CHAPTER XXIV.

One Hero Rescues Over Two Hundred—Traveler Caught in the Rush of Water—Report of a Government Official—How the Great Storm Started.

There are many people who are composed of the material that constitutes a hero, but the majority pass through the time allotted to them on earth without having the opportunity of demonstrating the fact to the world. On the night that the awful catastrophe visited the city of Galveston few were those who had not this opportunity presented to them.

Of course there were some who failed to develop this quality. The every effort of these was directed with the one supreme purpose of self preservation. Others there were who devoted their services unreservedly to the helpless and in consequence their names will never be forgotten by those whom they preserved from a watery grave.

Some of the deeds of this nobler class will never be known—not even after the relentless sea gives up all its dead. There is one name, however, which will be recorded and preserved in the memory of some as long as that never to be forgotten night of the hurricane at Galveston is remembered by the sons of men. That name will be taught by mothers to their children in the age to come as the name of one possessed of undying courage and heroism.

The name is that of Zachery Scott, a young medical student who was at St. Mary’s Infirmary at Galveston on the fateful night. Alone and single-handed Mr. Scott rescued over 200 souls from the very jaws of death. St. Mary’s Infirmary is composed of a large brick building and several wooden structures, and the latter were entirely destroyed by the fury of the wind and the water. In the wooden buildings were nearly 200 patients who were too sick and weak to battle against the elements and the raging storm, besides a score of the sisters who were at the time acting as nurses.

When the water began to rise, Mr. Scott, who was in the brick building, went over to where these patients were quartered and soon returned, through water waist deep, with one in his arms. Over 200 times he performed this feat, although before the task was completed the water between the two buildings was over six feet in depth.

Back and forth, during all the stormy night, he went and every time he returned another soul was saved from a dreadful fate. When the storm was at its height, the debris was flying in all directions, the resistless waters carrying people on to destruction and when he was weak and weary from his exertions, the inmates of the brick building begged him not to attempt the feat again. But still, with a dauntless courage born of devotion, he never faltered in his duty, and every person in the doomed building was taken to a place of safety. Such courage, devotion and heroism deserves a place side by side with that of the greatest heroes who ever lived.

A MARVELLOUS ESCAPE.

Harry Van Eaton, a well known traveling salesman for Tenison Bros., Dallas, was in the midst of the disaster, but saved his life in a marvellous manner.

“It was the worst trial of my life,” he said with a shudder. “I shall never forget its horrors. I arrived in Galveston Saturday morning and immediately went to the beach with a party of us and for a while had a good time in bathing. But the waves soon became furious and we were notified by the life saving crew ‘to get out of the water as there was danger coming.’

“Luckily we obeyed their command, for when we had dressed, the waves were enormous. We had to wade waist deep in water before we reached the Tremont Hotel. The wind kept increasing and at this stage of the game I began to realize something awful was going to happen.

“At eight o’clock that night the wind must have been going a hundred mile an hour gait and it was about this time that the roof of the hotel gave away and the skylight fell in on the thousand or more people who were there. I walked through three or four feet of water to reach the front door.

“There was a regular millrace rushing past the door and I was caught in it, but by God’s help and by expert swimming I managed to reach the mainland.

“It was a terrible experience; whirling by me were hundreds of bodies, more than I dared to count, crushed and mangled between timbers and debris. Men, women and children sinking, floating and dashing on, many to an instant death. I also passed many dead horses and cattle. How it all ended, that I reached safety, I hardly know; but I kept my presence of mind and by God’s help was saved.”

PERILS OF A RELIEF TRAIN.

One of the passengers on the first relief train that went out of Houston on Saturday evening, during the prevalence of the storm, to bring the people in from La Porte and Seabrook, gives the following description of the trip:

“Little did we know what trials were before us as we started out for La Porte and Seabrook at 8 o’clock on that fatal Saturday night. But we did know our loved ones were in danger, and with a brave volunteer crew in charge of the train, and trusting to the good God above to care for us, we started, hoping for the best.

“The first obstacle that impeded our progress was a pine tree of about two feet in diameter across the track. This was soon cut in two and we journeyed along, the wind almost blowing the train off the track. We had gone only a few miles further when we collided with two box cars that had been blown from the switch to the main track.

“After a considerable delay we started again, engine crippled, and everybody wet as water could make them. At Pasadena we took on board several men, ladies and children, who had been standing waist deep in water for several hours. Soon Deep Water was reached. Here two ladies got off and were carried to the residence of Mr. W. E. Jones. The train had just started again when the depot blew away, part of it against our train, breaking the windows and blinds of the coach and throwing glass all over us. Luckily no one was hurt.

“We had now been three hours coming twelve miles, and we all began to grow more uneasy. It was at this point where we first felt or knew what a storm we were in. The coaches rocked like cradles, windows blew in, and it seemed that we would be blown away ourselves. After two hours more we reached East La Porte. There most of our companions left us to look for their people. It did not seem that anyone could live in that storm—the wind must have been blowing 100 miles an hour. But our friends knew that they were needed at their homes, and they launched out. Some to be blown back to us, only to try it over again; others to be blown in the mud and water.

DIFFICULTIES OF A TRAIN.

“After a considerable delay the train started on. At West La Porte we found the depot blown across our way. All went to work cutting and moving timbers, and with the assistance of the wind, we soon had the track clear. We now had but one more serious place to get across before we could get to Seabrook. At last we reached it, and were in a few minutes across Taylor’s bayou, which we found to be a half mile wide and the waves four feet high. This bayou, in ordinary weather, is about fifty feet wide. On reaching Seabrook we found the depot full of refugees, houses all gone, water over everything. Some of the families of our companions on the way were lost, never to be seen alive again.

“Here we started out to work in earnest and it was only a very short time before we had everyone that was without a home on board. By this time the train crew had fires in the coaches and we served coffee, cheese and bread to the hungry ones, and made them as comfortable as possible. We still had lots of work to do, though, and we were looking for it when a man appeared on the scene, reporting Judge Tod’s barn had blown down on two ladies and several children. We went to work to get them out, and after three hours’ work we rescued all alive except the mother. She probably could have saved herself, but she gave up her life for the children. She was found in a position leaning over them, protecting them.

“Finally day came and we could now see what damage the storm had done. Mr. Hamilton’s house was the only one left in the flats, and most of the houses on the ridge were blown to pieces. It was a miracle that more lives were not lost.

“We gathered up everyone who wanted to come and left for Houston at 9.30 A. M. Sunday, and arrived at Houston about 12 o’clock; our journey lasting eighteen hours, was over. The gentlemen on the train who had families at La Porte and Seabrook are under lasting obligations to the Southern Pacific officials and especially to the train crew. No braver crew ever went out with a train, and we wish to tender them our earnest and sincere thanks. Courage and manly conduct have always been lauded by the world, and no men ever stood more nobly to duty on battle grounds than did these men who ran the relief train in the full fury of the storm to the search for the wave-tossed people of La Porte and Seabrook.”

As showing the immediate demand for laborers, the following advertisement inserted in the “Houston Post,” will be of interest:

WANTED AT GALVESTON IMMEDIATELY.

“24 plasterers, $4.50 per day and board paid; 30 bricklayers, $5.50 per day and board paid; 25 tinners, $3.50 per day and board paid; 100 laborers, $2.00 per day and board paid.”

The old saying that it is an ill wind that blows good to no one is illustrated in this advertisement. Probably never before in any Texas city were workmen offered wages so high.

Colonel Walter Hudnall, the representative of the Treasury Department of the Government, who was sent from San Antonio to Galveston, to investigate the conditions and report completed his work.

Colonel Hudnall spent several days in the stricken city. He came prepared for the worst, but when he saw what actually had occurred, he threw up his hands in amazement. No man, in his opinion, can form an estimate of the loss of life and property from the reports which have been sent out, and the extent of the devastation is beyond the grasp of human reason. He has made a canvass of the city mounted; he has visited every place which a man could on a horse, and he has made a complete investigation of the conditions as they exist.

He knew Galveston as she was before being struck by the storm, and he knows her as she is to-day. In his report to the Treasury Department, he will say that no man can estimate the property loss in the city, and that it is his opinion that any one attempting to make such an estimate will miss it by $10,000,000; the idea of making any estimate of property loss appears to him ridiculous.

MAYOR JONES’ STATEMENT AND APPEAL.

Of the loss of life, Colonel Hudnall believes that it will be between 6000 and 8000, and he will so report. He will say that he does not believe that it is possible for it to be less than 6000 lives, and he would not be surprised should it be 8000. He calls attention to the fact that in places there are from forty to sixty solid squares of ground swept clean as a parlor floor, as far as standing buildings are concerned. Colonel Hudnall does not believe disease will result if the proper sanitary precautions are taken, and this is being done as fast as the laborers can distribute the quicklime and carbolic acid.

As he was leaving he was asked regarding his idea of the future of Galveston. He said: “If the expression of the people who live here is to be my guide in forming an opinion I will say that Galveston will be rebuilt and will be a prosperous city. There is no doubt that the property owners expect to go to work repairing the damage as far as they can.

“There has been a great deal said about martial law,” continued the colonel. “The city is yet under the control of the mayor, and civil law is in force. The soldiers are being used simply to enforce the civil law and to maintain a discipline which is necessary under the disturbed conditions. The soldiers do not work a hardship on any one.”

A statement and an appeal addressed to the American people, signed by Mayor Jones and members of the Relief Committee, and endorsed by Governor Sayres, was issued September 25th. It set forth in detail the extent of the disaster which overtook the city, in part as follows:

“Seventeen days after the storm at Galveston it is still impossible to accurately estimate the loss of life and property. It is known that the dead in the city will number at least one sixth of the census population. The island and adjacent mainland will add perhaps 2000 to this number. Actual property damage is incalculable in precise terms, but we have the individual losses, and losses in public property, such as paving, water works, schools, hospitals, churches, etc., which will easily amount to $30,000,000. This estimate takes no account of the direct and indirect injury to business. Along the beach front upwards of 2600 houses, by actual map count, were totally destroyed. Moreover, we estimate that 97½ per cent. of the remaining houses throughout the city were damaged in greater or less degree. In fact none entirely escaped.”

CONFRONTED BY A GREATER PROBLEM.

Grateful thanks are extended for the help received, and the address continues: “But a greater and a graver work confronts us. Some kinds of homes, be they ever so humble, must be provided for the 10,000 people now huddled in ruined houses, public places and improvised camps, to the end that they may not become paupers, but may speedily set up their households wherein repose all that is best and noblest in American life. We believe that the well to do and the charitable people of this nation will not be contented to merely appease hunger and bind up bruises, but will in very large measure and with more far reaching effect contribute to the restoration of this people to a plane of self support and self respect. It is for this purpose that we make this further appeal.”

Miss Clara Barton also endorsed the appeal, saying: “Could the people of our generous country see as I have seen in its dreadful reality the desolation and the destruction of homes by thousands, the overwhelming bereavement in the loss of near and dear ones, and the utter helplessness that confronts those remaining, the appeal of Mayor Jones for continued help would meet with such a response as no other calamity has ever known.”

REVIEWING THE SITUATION.

Reviewing the situation in Galveston, a correspondent communicates the following: “On Sunday following the storm all saloons were closed by order of the Mayor. On the following Sunday several saloonists began selling liquor on the quiet. They were arrested and taken before Adjutant General Scurry, who warned them they must not repeat the offense. A prominent saloon man was arrested for disobeying the order and was put to work in a street cleaning gang. Dr. Donaldson, chief surgeon of one of the relief corps, says it will not be necessary for the outside surgeons to remain here longer than two or three days more. He has written an article for a medical journal commenting upon the comparatively small number of seriously wounded and sick persons. He explains the absence of a large number of seriously wounded persons by saying that most of those so wounded were drowned, but says it is surprising that more people, especially women and children, did not get sick from such trying experiences.

“Efforts are being made to open the public schools on October 1, the date set before the storm for their opening. Three of the school buildings can be made usable at slight cost and it is planned to hold two sessions a day.

“The estimated losses to the life insurance companies at Galveston are about $500,000. Most of those who carried old line life policies escaped. The fraternal orders will lose quite heavily.”

The Gulf Port Trading Company addressed a letter to General Manager Polk of the Gulf, Colorado and Santa Fe railway, advising him that strenuous efforts were being made to divert business from Galveston to other ports on representation that Galveston would be unable to take care of the shipments. He was asked to say whether his line would issue domestic and foreign bills of lading for export shipments through Galveston. Colonel Polk replied that the representations were entirely false; that it is expected to have rail communication open to Galveston very soon and to begin the delivery of local and export freight here Friday morning the 21st; that orders have already been issued to superintendents to let Galveston freight come forward and that agents have been authorized to accept freight for Galveston and sign domestic and foreign bills of lading as usual.

A PECULIAR CONDITION.

The wheat in elevator ‘A’ is being turned over and put in shape to deliver to vessels. There were about 1000 cars of wheat on track here and most of these show a peculiar condition on inspection. It appears that in nearly all of them there is a foot of wheat on the bottom to which the water rose. It was salt water and the wheat caked so hard that the ‘tryer’ used by the inspector will not penetrate it. The grain above this water line appears not to have been damaged. The good grain was being transferred by hand to other cars and that on the bottom will probably go to distilleries or some other places. A number of grain exporters, in fact, all who do business through this port, have written letters of sympathy and express themselves as having confidence in the ability of the Galveston people to care for their wheat in the best manner.

“Hanna & Leonard’s new elevator has started. It was about completed before the storm, little damaged during the storm, and has been completed since the storm in order to handle the grain and put such as is out of condition into condition for export.

“A census bureau has been established and placed in operation. A mortuary bureau has also been opened where relatives and friends make oath of the known death of persons lost in the storm. These bureaus will greatly assist in securing an accurate estimate of the loss of life. The clearing of debris in the streets proper has progressed and the spirit of rehabilitating the city is seen in every business. The military forces are accomplishing wonders, and the prediction is made that Galveston will assume normal conditions in a week. Resumption of trade in every channel is apparent. But five arrests and court martial trials is the record for the past week (the second after the flood) since General Scurry assumed control of the city.

“Insurance Inspector J. G. Youens has begun to go over the town to make a detailed report of the houses destroyed. Up to date he has covered the district bounded on the north by East Broadway, on the east and south by the Gulf, and on the west by Fourteenth street. In these forty-five blocks he found destroyed an average of sixteen houses to the block. The fire insurance companies are arranging to refund a pro rata on policies on houses and furniture where the same have been entirely destroyed by the hurricane, and the holders thereof want them cancelled.”

DR. YOUNG’S GRAPHIC STORY.

The following very interesting account of the beginning of the great Galveston storm and graphic story of his experience was prepared by Dr. S. O. Young:

“Tuesday morning, September 4, I was standing near the signal service officer who makes the weather bureau map each day for the Cotton Exchange. This is simply a large blackboard on which is painted a map of the United States. Wherever the bureau has a signal station the readings of the barometer, thermometer, direction and force of the wind and rainfall are recorded on this map, different colors of chalk being used to indicate each.

“When the observation at Key West was-recorded I saw that the barometer was low, that the wind was from the northeast, and the map as a whole showed pretty plainly cyclonic disturbances to the south or southeast of Key West. There was a region of high barometer over Pennsylvania and New York, shading gradually down to Key West and presumably far to the south of that point, while there was another region of high barometer over Colorado, with a comparatively low barometer between the two, all shading toward low the further south the records were made.

“I remarked to the observer who was making the map that the Key West record, backed by the map as a whole, showed pretty plainly that there was a cyclone forming. He agreed with me, but said his office had received no notice of anything of the kind. Wednesday afternoon the tide in the Gulf was high and the water was rough, though there was no wind to cause the disturbance. Thursday afternoon the tide was again high and the water very rough, while the atmosphere had that peculiar hazy appearance that generally precedes a storm, though not to a marked degree.

“The wind was from the north, and during the night was rather brisk. Friday the wind was from the north, and as night came on it increased in violence. The tide was very high and the Gulf very rough, though as a rule with a north wind the tide is low and the Gulf as smooth as the bay. I was then confident that a cyclone was approaching us and accounted for the high tide by assuming that the storm was moving toward the northwest or against the Gulf stream, thus piling up the water in the Gulf.

KNEW CYCLONE WAS COMING.

“For my own satisfaction, and at the request of my friends, I constructed a chart, outlining roughly the origin, development and probable course of the cyclone. From the Key West observation and the map of Tuesday I assumed that the center of disturbance was originally somewhere south of Cuba; that it moved to the northwest as cyclones always do at first, and that the storm had developed into a cyclone in the neighborhood of Yucatan; would move to the northwest and strike somewhere near the mouth of the Mississippi, going thence to the northeast and passing into the Atlantic ocean off the New England coast. The error I made was in placing its course too far east.

“My residence was within two blocks of the beach, so I had ample opportunity to observe the Gulf. Friday night there was a strong wind from the north, and Saturday morning, about 6 o’clock, I went to the beach. I saw that the tide was high, but that it had fallen again and was then at a stand. While I was out there the tide began to rise again, and soon washed up to and over the street railway track near the Olympia. I was certain then we were going to have a cyclone, and so soon as I could get to town I telegraphed to my wife, who, with my children, was on a Southern Pacific train coming from the West, to stop in San Antonio. I told her that a great storm was on us, but not to say anything about it and not to feel anxious about me.

“By 12 o’clock the wind had increased in violence to between 40 and 50 miles an hour, blowing from the north, and the water, both in the bay and Gulf, was very high and still rising. At 1 o’clock I visited the wharf front. The wind had shifted a point or two to the east of north, and was over fifty miles an hour. The bay water was over the wharves and was slowly encroaching on the Strand. All low places were completely inundated.

LARGE BUILDINGS FLOATED PAST.

“From the bay I went to the Gulf side, and found the tide very high and the water very rough. At 2 o’clock I concluded to go home and look after things there. My residence was on the northeast corner of avenue P½ and Bath avenue. As both P½ and Bath avenues were low at that point, my sidewalk had been curbed up about four feet and the whole lot raised four or five feet above the level of the street. When I got home I found about two feet of water on my lot. I sat on my front gallery and watched the water. It rose gradually until the third step was under water, when it apparently stopped rising and for over an hour remained stationary.

“My house, a large two-story frame building, stood on brick pillars about four feet high, so I had no fear of the water coming into the house. I dismissed a negro boy I had with me, went inside and proceeded to secure the windows and doors, and to make everything ship-shape before dark, for I felt pretty sure the electric lights would all be knocked out.

“At 4 o’clock the water was two feet deep on my ground floor, and was rising gradually. The wind had hauled further to the east and was blowing at a terrific rate. I moved my chair near the window and watched the water as it flowed down avenue P½ the west at a terrific rate, carrying wretched shanties, boxes, barrels, wooden cisterns and everything else that fell in its power. The flow was almost exactly from east to west, just as the streets run, for a box or barrel that passed my house, in the middle of the street, kept the same position as far as I could see it.

“Between 5 and 6 o’clock the wind became almost due east and increased in violence. The debris fairly flew past, so rapid had the tide become. At twenty minutes to 6 o’clock (I am exact because I noticed my large clock had stopped, and wound it up and set it by my watch) there was a marked increase in the violence of the wind. I went to a west window to watch a fence I had been using as a marker on the tide, and while I was looking, I saw the tide suddenly rise fully four feet at one bound. In a few minutes several houses on the south side of P½, between Twenty-fifth and Twenty-sixth, went to pieces and floated away, and the debris from a number of large buildings began to float past from the east.

THE ROAR WAS AWFUL.

“It was then getting dark very rapidly. I turned on my lamps, but, as I had anticipated, there was no electricity. I had found a candle and lit that, then I thought I had best save it, so I blew it out, got a comfortable arm-chair and made myself as comfortable as possible. Being entirely alone, with no responsibility on me, I felt satisfied and very complacent, for I was fool enough not to be the least afraid of wind or water.

“About 7.30 o’clock I heard heavy thumping against the east side of my house, and concluded it was downstairs in one of the lower bed rooms. I lit the candle and went to the stairs, and found the water was very nearly up to the top of them. I put the candle down, went to the front door and opened it. In a second I was blown back into the hall. I eased myself along the east side, caught the door knob, then the side of the door on the gallery and drew myself out far enough to catch hold of a blind, and, clinging with both hands, I drew myself out on the gallery and stood there. The scene was the grandest I ever witnessed. It was impossible to face the wind, which had now increased to fully 100 miles an hour, and drove sheets of spray and rain, which were blinding.

“The roar was something awful. I could see to the right and, to the left, and, so far as I could see, only my house and that of my next door neighbor, Mr. Youens, were left standing. All the others were gone, and we were left practically out in the Gulf of Mexico. About two minutes after I got on the gallery, I saw Mr. Youens’ house begin to move forward. It turned partly around and then seemed to hang as if suspended. Suddenly the wind switched to the south by east, and increased in violence. Mr. Youens’ house rose like a huge steamboat, was swept back and suddenly disappeared. I knew that he had his family with him, his wife, son and two daughters, and my feelings were indescribable as I saw them go.

POSTS BLOWN AWAY LIKE STRAWS.

“The new position of the wind and its increased violence caused a sudden rise in the water, and at one bound it reached my second-story and poured in my door, which was exactly thirty-one feet above the level of the street. The wind again increased. It did not come in gusts, but was more like the steady downpour of Niagara than anything I can think of. One of the front posts on my gallery blew out, split my head open and mashed my shoulder badly. I was knocked insensible for a moment, but pulled myself together and hung on.

“The constant shaking and jarring had loosened the front door facing, and I saw I could tear it loose from the top when the crash came, so I kept hold of it all the time. I had outlined a plan of campaign from the first and carried it out to the letter. The other posts and railing of the gallery blew away like straws. The top of the gallery was lifted up and disappeared over the top of the house. The gallery floated away, and, with one foot inside the door, I was left hanging against the front of the house. It was an easy thing to stay there, for the wind held me as firmly as if I had been screwed to the house.

“It is hard to believe, but still it is true. A little after 8 o’clock the wind actually increased in violence. I am confident I do not exaggerate one bit when I say it was blowing fully 125 miles an hour. I could see into the hall, and saw a beautiful phenomenon when the wind was at its height. Whether from phosphorescence of the sea water or from electricity generated by the high wind, I can’t say, but, from whatever cause it was, the drops of rain became luminous as they struck the wall, and it looked like a display of miniature fireworks. The luminous particles were about the size of a pin head, though one ball about half as large as a boy’s marble, formed on the door facing and slowly slipped down into the water.

WIND AT 125 MILES AN HOUR.

“The wind at 125 miles an hour is something awful. I could neither hear nor see when it was at its height and it was difficult to breathe. I am nearly six feet in height and estimating the surface of my body exposed to the wind at five square feet, my body sustained at that time a pressure of 390 pounds. I began to think my house would never go. The wind acted as if it thought so, too, for it got harder and harder and harder until finally I felt the house yielding. I took a firm hold of my door facing, placed both feet against the house, exerted my full strength, tore the facing loose and as the house went kicked myself as far away from it as possible, so as to avoid sunken debris rising to the surface.

“The house rose out of the water several feet, was caught by the wind and whisked away like a railway train and I was left in perfect security, free from all floating timber or debris, to follow more slowly. The surface of the water was almost flat. The wind beat it down so that there was not even the suspicion of a wave.

“The current impelled by the wind was terrific. Almost before I had felt I had fairly started I was over the Gartenverein, four blocks away. The next moment I was at the corner of the convent. Here I got in a big whirlpool and caught up with a lot of debris. I was carried round and round until I lost my bearings completely and was then floated off (as I found afterwards) to the northwest, finally landing in the middle of the street at Thirty-fourth and M ½, or fifteen blocks from where I started.

“It was very dark, but I could see the tops of some houses barely above the water; could see others totally wrecked and others half submerged. I knew it was not so very late and as I could not see a light or hear a human soul I concluded that the whole of that part of the town had been destroyed and that I was the only survivor. For eight hours I clung to my board, which had found a good resting place, and during the whole time I did not hear a human voice except that of a woman in the distance calling for help.

NEARLY FROZEN TO DEATH.

“The wind beat the rain on me and nearly froze me to death. I was never so cold in my life. I think I had at least a dozen good hard chills before the water fell sufficiently for me to wade to a house half a block away, a little elevated cottage of two rooms in which fifteen or twenty colored people, who forgot their own misery when they saw me bareheaded, covered with blood and shaking with cold. They pulled me in out of the rain, wrapped some half dry clothes about my shoulders to get warmth in my body and for the moment forgot their own misery.

“When daylight came two of the men piloted me to town, where I met a friend whose room had escaped destruction. He took me there, sent for a doctor, had my wounds dressed and by 9 o’clock I was myself again and barring weakness from loss of blood was as well as ever.

“In conclusion, I desire to say this of the storm. In my opinion it began south of Cuba, developed fully near Yucatan, came to the northwest, landed west of Galveston, its center passing south of Galveston between 6 and 7 o’clock Saturday evening, and that it was from 200 to 300 miles in diameter. It passed to the northeast, going out of the United States over the great lakes through Canada and died out in the far North Atlantic. I have seen absolutely no report of this storm, but this is my conclusion from my observation.”

Said a citizen of Galveston: “It is not all tears in Galveston, not all sorrow. Hearts bowed down with grief are not heavy all the time, and there are smiles and good cheer and hearty hand shakes with it all. Here is a sample of the conversation:

“‘Hello, Bill, I’m glad to see you alive!’

“‘Same to you, old man,’ as they join hands in hearty clasp.

“‘How ’bout your family?’

“‘All safe, thank God.’

“‘I lost my little one, but the rest are safe. How’s your home?’

“‘Gone: knocked into kindling wood, but that don’t matter, as I saved my wife and children after a hard struggle.’

TEARS IN MANY EYES.

“And the two pass on, the one light hearted, the other a smile glistening in his tear dimmed eye, both glad for what was left them. I saw a telegram to a Galveston woman from a sister in Houston with whom she had hardly been on speaking terms for years. It read:

“‘Are you safe? Do you want any money? Come up to Houston and live with us.’

“Is there necessity of comment? I saw neighbors who had been quarreling and saying spiteful things about each other for months, riding down the street in the same buggy, the most loving chums in the world. I saw rival candidates for the same political office catch hold of opposite ends of the same log, and with a ‘heave ho!’ toss it up out of the way of wagons and pedestrians, each doing the work for humanity’s sake.

“Social distinction is wiped out. I heard the banker tell his story of the storm to his stableman with as much vim and gusto as though hobnobbing with his heaviest depositor. White and colored stopped to make inquiries of each other and shake hands. I saw a blind mendicant, a continual object of charity, on the corner of Twenty-first and Market, and heard of hundreds upon hundreds of great, strong, useful men who went down with the flood. Life is stranger than fiction, but it does seem an ironical providence that saves the halt and the maimed and takes away the useful.”

Police Officer W. H. Plummer is the happy possesser of a four-oared boat which he has christened “Cyclone Rescue,” in honor of its work in the storm. The boat is constructed on the pattern of what is known as an Eastern pod, such as is used by the lobster fishermen of Maine. The boat was built to withstand the rough seas, and was so constructed with two air-tight compartments as to be used as a lifeboat. This boat, with lashed oars, was kept by Officer Plummer in his yard, corner of Seventh and Church streets, one of the first districts to suffer from the invasion of the destructive Gulf on the fatal day of the storm.

GRAND WORK OF RESCUE.

When Captain Plummer went home to dinner on that day the Gulf was rising very rapidly and the storm gave indications of greater severity. Having spent many years at sea, Captain Plummer called his two sons, who are sailors, and the three men launched the boat and started rescuing families in the neighborhood, taking them to St. Mary’s Infirmary. From noon until late that night the good boat and its faithful crew braved the terrific storm and are credited with having saved two hundred lives. On the last trip that night, with Captain Plummer almost helpless from exhaustion and his sons fast succumbing to the terrible battle of the day, the boat suffered a slight mishap. She was struck by a piece of wreckage driven with great force into her side. But the boat held the water and landed her crew safely at the Infirmary.

Once, during the height of the storm, the boat, with seven on board, was capsized, but the experienced seamen soon had her righted and bailed, and all on board were saved. Captain Plummer lost his home and everything but the scant clothes on his back, but he says he wouldn’t part with the “Cyclone Rescue” for its weight in gold.

Some who were out in the water from the time the houses first began to go down drifted but a few hundred feet, while others were carried miles by the water. So it was with Miss Anna Delz, a 16–year old girl, who lived out in the west end near the beach. She drifted a distance of over eighteen miles, landing not far from Texas City. She passed the bay bridge and hung for some time on one of the piling, then catching a piece of driftwood, continued her perilous journey, landing not far from her aunt’s house on the mainland.

STORY OF A PERILOUS TRIP.

She tells the story of her trip on the crest of the waves as follows:

“It was about 2 o’clock in the afternoon when I first realized that the storm was increasing. Together with a girl-friend who was in the house, I packed my mother’s trunk and carried all of the household goods that I could and piled them in the second story to keep them from being washed away by the water, which was rapidly rising. During this time the wind had been increasing in velocity all of the time.

“At about 4 o’clock my mother and sister, who is 13 years of age, were taken to a place of refuge by a friend. A girl friend and myself were left, thinking that we would be safe, but it was not over an hour after that when the house went down. It went with a crash, and myself, together with the others in the house, were thrown out into the furious waters. I caught onto a tree and stayed there for a little while, but was dashed off and sank under the water several times. While hanging on to the tree a roof came along, on which there were about twenty people, mostly women and children. I got on with them and stayed there for some time, seeing my companions in distress being washed off one by one, until at last there were only a young girl and myself left. Soon she went, and I was left alone to battle with the waves. Soon I caught a piece of driftwood and I think I floated out into the Gulf. Then the wind changed and I began going the other way. I was tossed out into the bay at last, having passed during this time many people floating on drift of all kinds, and people struggling in the water trying to save themselves.

“I drifted thus for a long time, coming after a while to where the railroad bridges crossed the bay. I caught hold of one of the piling and stayed there for a time trying to rest. During the night my clothes had been entirely torn from my body and I was in a horrible plight. After having stayed there a little longer, I caught a piece of drift and turned loose and drifted with the tide. At last I drifted to a pile of lumber, and finding that the water was not deep there, I fell on top of the lumber. I was so exhausted by the terrible ride that I had taken that I immediately went to sleep.

“About daylight I awakened and found myself in a strange place. I walked to a house some distance from there, and on inquiring, found that I was at Lamarque. Remembering that I had an aunt living at that place, I found her house, which was also almost a ruin. This aunt took me in charge and I stayed there until I heard from my father, and then came back to Galveston.”