his committee, he came to a village that was in a very bad condition.
Many sick and dying for want of food, he asked the Zemstov if a kitchen
could not be established. The reply was no; there was no one to manage
it. "But," he said, "you have a school here; the teacher can take charge
of the kitchen." "No; he is not capable; he is too slow and of no
account, and we intend to get rid of him as soon as we can get someone
to take his place. There is not a person in the village that could
conduct a kitchen." The count in his rounds came to the school house and
found, as he had been told, that the school-master did look miserable
enough in an old, worn and even ragged coat, and learned that he had not
received his wages for some months; there was no money to pay him. His
roll showed a list of sixty pupils; there were but fifteen present. When
asked where the others were, he replied that it was so near the holiday
time--only ten days--that he had let them go home. The count turned to
one of the boys and asked if he had had anything to eat to-day,
expecting him to say no; but he said yes; "he had a warm soup this
morning." The same question to the second boy, with the same reply; and
so on with all the fifteen. When asked where they got their soup, they
said the master had given it to them, and had been doing so for some
weeks.
The master stood in the corner with his face very red, looking very much
ashamed. It was then learned that when the school-master found his
pupils coming to school without food, he began to use the savings he had
laid by, to feed them, until his purse would not allow him to continue
with so large a number; and he had let all but the fifteen go, and he
was feeding and teaching them from the savings of other years. The count
said he could not pay him his wages due, but he furnished the village
with the means for a soup kitchen, and the master was put in charge and
conducted it in such a manner that no one thought of his being an
incompetent manager.
The shipping of the cargo of corn in the "Tynehead" to the Baltic in a
voyage of twenty-eight days and its distribution through Russia answers
a number of questions that were raised when the proposition to send corn
to Russia was contemplated. These questionings came from business men,
shippers, boards of trade, the produce exchange and philanthropists, and
by some it was stoutly asserted that corn could not bear ocean
transportation that distance without spoiling.
And if it should pass without spoiling, it was affirmed they had no
mills to grind it in Russia, that the peasant knew nothing about corn,
that they could not change their habit of living, and therefore would be
unable to make use of it, if received. One of the leading business men
of the country went so far as to write that we might as well ship a
cargo of pebbles as a cargo of unground corn. Hence there was a degree
of satisfaction to see the entire cargo, with the exception of a small
quantity referred to loaded in the rain, come out of the ship in as good
condition as when it was put in the hold, and to find in our journey in
the interior that the peasants even needed no suggestion about grinding
it in their windmills, which were amply sufficient.
But when the little corn that had heated was sent to Samara with the
suggestion that it be used to feed the cattle, with four additional days
in the hot state in the cars, and this was still used by the peasants
and called _good_, it removed any doubt that might be forced into one's
mind that a starving peasant would die rather than eat a food that he
was not accustomed to.
Referring back to St. Petersburg, after our list had been made up for
the general distribution of the cargo, Mr. Hilton carefully went over it
and said, from his personal knowledge of the people to whom the
consignments were to be made, he would be willing to personally
guarantee that 80 per cent of everything sent according to the list
would be honestly and faithfully distributed, just as the donors wished,
and he further believed that the remaining 20 per cent would be as
faithfully handled.
My trip to the various places of distribution, widely separated and at
unexpected times, confirmed Mr. Hilton's belief that the entire cargo
could not have gone through better hands in any land.
To be able, after such observations and inquiries, to give this report
is a satisfaction that repays for all the anxious care and
responsibility naturally felt with such a charge.
To add to this, the deep gratitude expressed by nobleman and peasant
alike, in capital or in far-away, unfrequented interior village, always
the same, even the humblest peasant refusing compensation for any
service rendered an American, manifests a genuine gratitude and
friendliness to America and Americans which has characterized Russia
during many years.
THE SEA ISLANDS HURRICANE.
COAST OF SOUTH CAROLINA.
It is probable that there are few instances on record where a movement
toward relief of such magnitude, commenced under circumstances so new,
so unexpected, so unprepared and so adverse, was ever carried on for
such a length of time and closed with results so entirely satisfactory
to both those served and those serving, as this disaster, which, if
remembered at all at the present day, is designated as the "Hurricane
and Tidal Wave of the Sea Islands off the Coast of South Carolina." The
descriptions of this fearful catastrophe I shall leave to the reports of
those who saw, shared its dangers and lived within its tide of death.
They will tell how from 3,000 to 5,000 human beings (for no one knew the
number) went down in a night; how in the blackness of despair they clung
to the swaying tree tops till the roots gave way, and together they were
covered in the sands or washed out to the reckless billows of the great
mad ocean that had sent for them; of the want, woe and nothingness that
the ensuing days revealed when the winds were hushed, the waters stilled
and the frightened survivors began to look for the lost home and the
loved ones, and hunger presaged the gaunt figure of famine that silently
drew near and stared them in the face. How, with all vegetable growth
destroyed, all animals, even to fowls, swept away, all fresh water
turned to salt--not even a sweet well remaining--not one little house in
five hundred left upright, if left at all; the victims with the clothing
torn and washed off them, till they were more nearly naked than
clothed--how these 30,000 people patiently stood and faced this silent
second messenger of death threatening them hour by hour. Largely
ignorant, knowing nothing of the world, with no real dependencies upon
any section of its people, they could only wait its charity, its pity,
its rescue and its care--wait and pray--does anyone who knows the negro
characteristics and attributes doubt this latter? Surely, if angels do
listen, they heard pleading enough in those hours of agony to save even
the last man and woman and the helpless babe. Something saved them, for
there is no record of one who died of starvation or perished through
lack of care.
I have promised to leave these descriptions to those who saw. I will
also leave the descriptions of the work of relief done at the field to
those who so faithfully performed it, the members of my working staff
and the volunteer workers of other fields who came to their assistance
on this.
I place here the more important of the reports made to me at the time,
but which have until now remained under seal, no general report of that
field having been made. The main interest of these reports will consist
in showing the methods of work adopted, not only to preserve so many
people in life with so small means as we had at hand, but to preserve
them as well from habits of begging and conditions of pauperism; to
teach them self-dependence, economy, thrift; how to provide for
themselves and against future want, and help to fit them for the
citizenship which, wisely or unwisely, we had endowed them with. I will
then, with the reader's kind permission, simply show the open doorway
through which we were called to enter that field and introduce the
nationally renowned advocates and escorts who personally conducted us
and placed its work in our hands.
About the twenty-eighth or twenty-ninth of August, 1893, the press
commenced to give notice, such as it could get over wrecked roads and
broken wires, of a fearful storm coming up from the West Indies that had
struck our coast in the region of South Carolina, sweeping entirely over
its adjacent range of islands, known as the Old Port Royal group,
covering them from the sea to a depth of sixteen feet, with the wind at
a rate of one hundred and twenty miles an hour--that its destructive
power was so great that it had not only swept the islands, but had
extended several miles onto the mainland of the State.
[Illustration: Copyright, 1898, by Clara Barton.
WOMEN CUTTING POTATOES FOR PLANTING--SEA ISLAND RELIEF,
S.C., FEBRUARY, 1894.]
[Illustration: Copyright, 1894, by Charles Scribner's Sons.
A WINDFALL FOR ST. HELENA.--WRECK OF THE "CITY OF
SAVANNAH."]
I chanced to be familiar with the geography and topography of that group
of islands, having lived on them in the capacity of war relief many
months during the siege of Charleston in 1863-64. Knowing that they
scarcely averaged four feet rise above the sea level, with no mountains,
not even hills that could be called such, that the soft, sandy soil
could not be trusted to hold its tree roots firm, that the habitations
were only huts, to be washed away like little piles of boards--I thought
I saw no escape for the inhabitants and that _all_ must have
perished; and so replied to all inquiries at first made as to whether
this were not a disaster for the Red Cross to relieve, "No, there was
nothing left to relieve." Later and more reliable news brought the
astonishing fact that it was estimated that from thirty to forty
thousand had survived and were in the direst need. Was not this a call
for the Red Cross? Still more emphatically, "No; if that is the case, it
is beyond the Red Cross. Only the State of South Carolina or the general
government can cope with that;" and again we closed our ears and
proceeded with our work.
But the first week of September brought pitiful paragraphs from various
Southern sources--one I recall from the governor of the State, in which
he proclaimed his perplexity and great distress at the condition of
these poor people, needing everything, and who, at that season of the
year, with crops all destroyed, would continue to need; and closed by
wondering "if the Red Cross could perhaps do anything for them."
It would not do to close our ears or eyes against this suggestion, and I
at once sought our congressional neighbor, General M.C. Butler, of South
Carolina, then in the Senate, now on the Cuban Commission, asking his
views. The response was such as would not have been looked for in that
busy, hard-worked Senator, surrounded by a network of political wires,
some of them only too likely to be "live;" he dropped all business,
telegraphed at once to Governor Tillman at Columbia to learn the
conditions and urgently requested us to go, and he would even leave his
seat and go with us as soon as we could be ready. Time is never a
question with the Red Cross, and the next night, in a dark cheerless
September mist, with only two assistants, I closed a door behind me for
ten months, went to the station to meet General Butler, prompt and kind,
and proceeded on our way. At Columbia we were joyfully surprised at
meeting Governor Tillman, prepared to accompany us, with a member of his
staff, and thus powerfully reinforced we made our entrance into
Beaufort.
The work of relief had been wisely placed at first in the hands of
committees from both Beaufort and Charleston, comprising the best
business men of each city--its lawyers, merchants, bankers, all men of
prominence and known practical ability. They had done and were doing all
possible for them to do, with hearts full of pity, hands full of work,
themselves large losers by the storm, business nearly wrecked, and
needing every remaining energy for the repairing of their own damages
and those of the citizens about them.
The governor, at whose request they had formed, realizing the
necessities of the case, sought to release them, calling them together
in each city and successively relieving them, placing the Red Cross in
full charge of the relief. With the little knowledge we had of the
conditions and surroundings, it would have been madness to accept, at
least until both more knowledge and more numerical force were gained,
and the refusal was as prompt as the proffer had been. We however
promised to remain in Beaufort, meet with the committee each day, advise
with them, study the situation and report our conclusions when we could
safely arrive at them.
Thus we remained until the first day of October, when, realizing that
the relief coming in from outside would soon diminish, as the excitement
should wear away, that the sum in hand was painfully small, that the
number of destitute was steadily increasing, that the winter was
approaching and they must be carried through in some manner till the
next year's crops could grow; and that, in order to do this a fixed
system of relief must be adopted, a rigid economy enforced and every
person who could do so must be made to work for his food and receive
food and raiment only in return for labor; that this could only come
from persons who had no interests but these to subserve and with the
light of all experience that could be called to the task. Even then a
successful result was questionable; but there was no question of the
fatal result of any other course, and after a thoughtful council of our
official board (which had meanwhile become nearly filled) on the night
of September thirtieth it was decided that the Red Cross would accept
the appointment of the governor and enter upon its duties the following
day.
Accordingly, at the meeting of the next day, October 1, 4 p. m., the
Beaufort Relief Commission, as appointed by the governor, was formally
released as a committee and immediately re-elected by the Red Cross as
its "advisory board," to meet and advise with us as we had done with
them.
Through all these years the tenderness springs to my heart and gathers
in my eyes as I recall the kindly and affectionate intercourse of
months, without one break, that grew up between us. And although some
have been called to higher service and greener fields, I am confident
that none of us will ever seek on this side a better, more trusted,
kindlier association than were found in these.
I desire to supplement the foregoing allusions to the storm by the full
and ably rendered account of commodore, now admiral, Beardslee, then in
command of the naval forces of that section, with headquarters at Paris
Island. The admiral and his charming wife were our neighbors, and most
efficient helpers through all our work:
ADMIRAL BEARDSLEE'S DESCRIPTION OF THE HURRICANE.
Mrs. Beardslee and I were participators in the events and shared the
dangers brought to the inhabitants of the Sea Islands of South Carolina
by the terrific West India hurricane, with accompanying tidal wave,
which desolated those unfortunate islands in August, 1893.
Since our recent return and while on the journey, and at New York,
friends whom we have met, and new acquaintances, have almost universally
exhibited much interest in the description of the situation of affairs
on those islands, before, during and after the storm, and to many the
simple details which were to us but household words, brought the first
realizing sense of the magnitude of the calamity.
* * * * *
Miss Clara Barton, the president of the American branch of the
International Organization of the Red Cross, who has the management of
contributions and of the dispensing of aid among the Sea Islands now,
and had occupied a similar position at Johnstown, made us her agents to
dispense on one of the islands, where weekly we feed over four hundred
persons, and I know we are but doing as she would wish, in continuing so
to act, during our brief respite from our work.
Therefore I most cheerfully comply with the request, and trust that my
efforts to interest and revive interest will not be in vain.
GEOGRAPHY OF THE COAST.
I will premise with a bit of geography: The coast of South Carolina is
bordered for over a hundred and fifty miles by an archipelago consisting
of hundreds of islands and islets from a hundred square miles to as many
yards in area. These are nearly all well wooded with pine, oak, magnolia
and gum trees. Many of them consist largely of arable land, which,
before the war of the rebellion, was divided by hedges into great
plantations, whereon the rich planters, aided by their hundreds of
slaves, cultivated, besides vegetables of all kinds, the famous long
staple "Sea Island cotton." The islands are separated from each other
and from the main land by arms of the sea, here called rivers, or
creeks, according to their width and depth, some, as Beaufort, Broad and
Coosaw rivers, from one to three miles in width and thirty feet in
depth, and others, which, at low tide, are but marshes, with a thread of
water.
AFTER THE WAR.
After the war the large plantations were subdivided into five, ten and
twenty-acre farms, which were by the government distributed among the
"heads of families," generally of the slaves who were left on them, and
these negroes, with their descendants, still occupy these farms, living
in comfortable cabins, each plantation having its own hamlet or colony.
After the first shock of change was over, these negroes developed into
orderly, industrious, thriving Christian communities. Each farm was
thoroughly cultivated, and there was produced every year good crops of
potatoes, sweet and Irish, peas, corn, melons and one or two bales of
cotton, which, mortgaged to the local storekeeper, generally a white
man, furnished them with groceries. All raised and owned horses, mules,
hogs, cattle, turkeys, domestic fowls and ducks. All were owners of one
or more buggies, carts, plows and other agricultural implements, and
those who lived near the sea owned one or more boats, with outfit of
nets and fishing gear, and from spring until winter the sea yielded
abundant harvest of good fish, turtles, crabs, shrimps, prawns, clams
and oysters, and the marshes furnished terrapin, which sold at very
remunerative figures, as I well know, for the storm took from me nearly
three hundred of them. Every cabin was comfortable, from their point of
view, furnished, and in many were sewing machines, house organs and
melodeons, and for every member of the family, however slightly attired
on week days, a fine, often gorgeous, suit of Sunday clothes--and they
are all church-goers.
The great barn-like structures that they build for churches are presided
over by preachers of their own race--"reverence doctor" is the
title--and are crowded. They have also smaller places of worship, called
"praise houses," where they assemble once or twice a week in the evening
to indulge in "shouting" a mingled prayer, responding, singing, and when
"spirit dun come pow'ful," a wild, waltzing sort of a dance, such as I
have seen in Africa. They have schools which troops of well-dressed
children attend daily. There are lots of children, and but a very small
portion of those under twenty have not quite a fair common school
education. Said an old aunty to a lady friend of mine: "Has yer
children, honey?" "Yes, aunty, I have three boys and one girl." "Is dat
all?" "Yes, isn't it enough?" "Dat's as the Lord wills, honey; to some
He sends little litters and to some big ones. I'se got thirteen head and
I'se dun loss four head."
THE DISASTROUS STORM.
The climate is perfect, very little labor produces good results, and I
think that without going more into detail you will all admit that the
Sea Islanders were a happy, contented, very comfortably fixed set of
people. So it was at the going down of the sun on the twenty-seventh day
of August, 1893. When the sun rose the next morning, hundreds of those
cabins had been swept from the earth, with all they contained. Over
thirty thousand of those people were homeless, clotheless, foodless,
with no resources. Over eight hundred were dead (the figures are from
actual census). A hurricane on its way from the Gulf of Mexico to the
north had swerved somewhat from the usual course of these storms, its
centre, instead of following the Gulf Stream, had come in over the land,
and the great uprising of the surface of the sea, which always occurs at
the calm centre of these storms, caused by the low atmospheric pressure,
as shown by low barometer, had, instead of dissipating itself on the
surrounding ocean, inundated our islands to depths varying from one to
ten feet according to the height of the land, the average height of the
tidal wave, above high water, being about seven feet. Thus the surface
of each island was a sea, and driven by the tremendous force of the wind
over a hundred miles per hour, as recorded at Charleston, north of us,
and at Savannah, south, into death-dealing waves.
The houses, all built on posts two to four feet above ground, came down
like card houses. Some collapsed and crushed their inmates on the spot;
others went drifting off with men, women and children clinging to them,
until falling to pieces they dropped their living freight into eternity.
Some escaped by seeking shelter amid the branches of the giant pines and
oaks; some were so saved, but others had but found death traps, for
yielding to the force of the wind, many were thrashed to death by the
whipping branches, or knocked off into the raging sea below. And among
the thousands of these trees which were uprooted, or twisted off, were
many on whose branches people were clinging. I knew nothing of what was
occurring on other islands than the one we were dwelling on, Paris
Island, where I am in command of the naval station; for, deprived of
every means of communication with the outer world by the destruction of
all railroads and steamers that connected with us, telegraph and
telephone lines down, and all of my boats either sunk or wrecked, our
own affairs had my entire time and attention.
A WORK OF RESCUE.
I have been a sailor for forty-five years, and as such have battled with
many tempests, but on my own ship, with plenty of sea room, I have known
what to do to increase safety and lessen danger. But in this case I was
nearly helpless. Fortunately I alone knew this, for I was now surrounded
by those who looked to me for help. I was forced to "keep a stiff upper
lip," but the task was not a slight one. My house is a two-story frame,
built on brick piers, about sixty rods from the beach. Between it and
the water were six negro cabins and two quite large houses. Shortly
after sunset the weaker of them succumbed, but the tide was not yet so
high but that my men succeeded in saving from the wrecks the women and
children, all of whom were carried first to the largest of the two
houses. About 11 p.m. the tide was at its height, and there came driving
onto my lawn and under my house great timbers, wrecks of houses,
wharves, and boats, and fortunately a large flat boat, called a lighter.
Some of the braver of my men captured this boat by plunging in up to
their necks and pushed and pulled it to the house where the refugees had
gathered, at which the screams told us there was trouble. They got there
just in time to rescue about fifty and brought them to my house.
During all this time the rain was falling in torrents and every person
was soaked through, and as the wind was from the northeast, the rain was
cold, and they were chilled through. An attempt to get up a fire in my
kitchen stove disclosed the fact that my woodshed was gone and there was
no wood. Some empty packing boxes in the garret were utilized; then a
big pot was put on to make coffee. We then found that excepting in a few
pitchers there was no fresh water. My cistern had been overflowed by the
sea. Fifty men were put to bailing and pumping, and weather boards from
my shed and servants' quarters were quickly extemporized into gutters
and pipes--then the rain proved a blessing, and we were saved from water
famine. But there were chances of a food famine. My storerooms and those
of my only white neighbor, the civil engineer of the station, held all
of the food on the island, and there were hundreds to feed. Fortunately
it was Sunday. Saturday is our marketing day, and we had a week's supply
under ordinary circumstances, but with such a lot of boarders we had to
handle it very sparingly.
THE NEXT DAY.