CHAPTER XXI. Unparalleled Bombardment of Waves--Wonderful Courage Shown by the Survivors--Letter From Clara Barton.

A visitor to Galveston thus gives his impressions on the 12th day after the great flood:

“For two days after the great catastrophe, the people of the city of Galveston were stunned. They seem to be dazed. It is a remarkable thing that there were no signs of outward grief in the way of tears and groans to mark the misery that raged in the breasts of the people. Only when some person who was thought to have been dead, appeared to a relative living who had mourned for him or her, were there any tears. There was a callousness about all this that attracted the attention of those who had just come to the unfortunate place. There was a stoicism in it. But it was unexplainable. It indicated no lack of appreciation of what had occurred.

“It demonstrated no lack of affection for those who had gone. Nature, generous in this instance, came to their relief in a way and made them dull to the seriousness of what had occurred, to an extent which prevented them from becoming maniacs. For, if the grief which comes to a mortal when he loses a dear one, had come to this whole community, the island would have been filled with raving maniacs. In case of individual losses, there is always some one near to give consolation. Had the grief came to the whole island, there could have been no consolation, for every soul on it had lost in some way that which was dear to it.

“‘The case is just like the afterthoughts of those who have participated in a great battle,’ said an old soldier to me. ‘If a popular man was lost on the picket line, there were tears for him, but when the time came for all to be mowed down, the horror of it dulled the sensibilities of those who survived.’

“I was talking to an estimable and bright woman on the subject. She had lost members of her family, though not immediate ones. She said to me: ‘I study myself and am overcome at myself. I know what has happened. I know the losses. I have lost some of the members of my family, though they are not blood kin. I have lost the dearest friends of my life. And yet I have not shed a tear. My eyes are hot. I would give anything to cry, but it looks as if the fountains were dried. I am ashamed of my seeming indifference to this horrible thing and the loss of those who were so dear to me. But I cannot cry. I know that I suffer, but it looks so cruel to sit here with dry eyes and without any other evidence of the deep sorrow that fills my bosom.’

“I talked to one man and asked him how many people he had lost. He had saved his daughter and her child. All the rest, amounting to three souls, were gone. But they were dry. He spoke in a low voice, but it did not tremble. He was agonized—I saw that—but his mind was unable to grasp the true meaning of his loss, and when he had finished he asked if I had a match about me.”

THE SAME BELL.

“Up to Thursday night there had been no sleep in the city. True, exhausted nature had thrown men and women and children on their beds and they had closed their eyes and the physical strain had been to some degree relieved, but the mental strain was still at the breaking point. One man said that on Thursday morning he was awakened by the convent bell summoning the living to mass. It was the same bell that had rung or tinkled in the tone since the day of the storm.

“He bounded from his bed a new man. He was hopeless the day before. He had seriously thought of abandoning his house, which he believed beyond repair, but when he looked at it on Thursday morning it did not look so badly. He resolved to fight it out. He went and found others like himself—resolved to fight it out.

“Thursday night’s sleep made the people a new people. The difference in their look and deportment from that of the day before was observed by everyone. The streets were filled with them, when on the day before the streets were silent of all except those who had the horrible work of taking care of the dead on their shoulders. Now women could be seen talking to women. They met on the corners in the residence portion of the town and told their adventures. The men began to discuss the future. By 10 o’clock the town was up and buoyant. The effect of that one night’s sleep was marvelous. There was no longer any talk of abandoning the town. Galveston should be greater than Galveston had ever been. That was on the lips of everyone.

GALVESTON SAFER THAN EVER.

“On Friday I would not have given $10 for the place. On Thursday I would have given more for a lot than I would have given before the deluge and storm. Why? Because the pluck of the people came out through that night of rest. Galveston should be greater than it had ever been. That is what they said. Galveston was safer than before by the island’s weathering such a storm. That is what they said, too. They began to talk of their own pluck. We have stood so much, but the world will say that we stood it well. If we can do as we have done in such a trial, what can not we do in the battle of life? Galveston shall be rebuilt.

“Galveston shall be the greatest of towns. Hurrah for Galveston! Thus they talked and went about their work of throwing up breastworks against disease by cleaning the town. Thousands of the people, negroes as well as whites, went about the work of burning the dead and cleaning away the debris. They asked nothing about wages, even those who had no property. They had begun the fight. It was evident that they intended to keep it up. The cold, calculating speculator would have had something to study over if he had seen these people as I saw them the day after their one night’s rest. Well, there was nothing wild in their determination. The island has not a break in it.

“There is a story of millions of feet being torn from it and cast into the sea. This story may be true if applied to some part of the island which I did not visit. But where I went it is not true. There was erosion. That was to be expected. Erosion would have come from a far less storm than this. I have seen a common “rise” on the Ohio River carry away more dirt than this storm carried from Galveston Island into the Gulf. The people of the interior know where the old Beach Hotel stood.

“They know where the chimney of that house was built. They know how far it was from the beach. They will understand the work of erosion. I stated that the brick of that chimney is not in the water. The piling on which the hotel was built are in some places in the water. In fact, according to my observation, the erosion at this point has not been above 300 feet. I went to the east end of the town and to the west end of it. The destruction of the island is no greater anywhere that I saw than at the location of the hotel mentioned.

PREDICTIONS OF DISASTER.

“For years and years people have said that when the right kind of storm came the island would sink under it or be washed away like a house of cards in a flood. It was supposed that the great currents which would rush across the island would dig bayous as deep as the bay. These would grow in width, and finally the great island would be cut into small ones, if it did not disappear beneath the waves. But the result of this greatest storm on record? Why, there is not, as far as I could hear, and I made inquiries, a single excavation made from the Gulf to the bay or the bay to the Gulf. The island stands there in all things, except in the matter of the erosion mentioned, as stable and firm as it has ever been since man knew it. That is enough. The foundation is there. Man can do most any thing with a proper foundation.

“The only need now is stable and the right kind of houses. The old houses seem to have stood the shock better than the new ones. The reason of this is apparent. The old ones were built with an eye to storms. The new ones were built in book times. One young fellow told me that his house, the one in which he was born, had stood the storm of 1875 and every storm since that time without a quiver.

“‘And it would have stood this one had it not been for one thing,’ he said. ‘That thing was the outward flow of the tide when the storm was over. The water rushed back to the sea like a torrent. It fell over a foot and a half in fifteen minutes, and as it went out it swept many a house from its foundations.’ This flow, running like a torrent, swept across the island, and yet there was not left a single evidence in the way of excavations of it going.

“FOUNDED ON A ROCK.”

“Attention was attracted to the house of Mr. J. H. Hawley, the brother of Congressman Hawley. He bought the property from an engineer who lived in Galveston some time about the flood of ’96. He said he would build him a house which would stand. He placed the foundations on an iron fence two feet in the ground. This foundation was of brick. In this foundation he placed the railing of the iron fence running up three feet. At the top he placed filagree brick work. His house was braced well and the timbers were heavy and well put together. The storm did not phase it.

“The fence acted as a barrier to timbers from the houses which had been destroyed. It kept away the battering rams with which the waves assaulted all places. When the night’s horrors were at an end the house stood intact. Even the cistern, which was on piling, stood the test and was uninjured. Now the Galveston people begin to consider the question of whether much was not their fault in that their structures were not of the kind that should have been built, when storms were sure to come.

“It is just such things as this that give them hope. As I have said, I despaired of the town when I walked among the dead bodies and saw the destruction on every side. But like the rest I got over this depression. I caught the infection of the new life when it came. I know that I speak the truth when I say that the life in Galveston now is capable of upbuilding the town, and building it better in every way than it ever was. Millions of dollars are invested in enterprises in the town. The men who have lost thousands, not to say millions, will not permit the rest to go without a struggle.

“The railroads running into the place and depending on the thirty feet of deep water, which is said now to exist in the channel, for export of the freight, will not agree to abandon the port, the only one of such depth for thousands of miles. Cotton factors in all the world, who look to this port for their supplies, will not abandon it. The monetary interest in the city of itself would save it even if the people were not so full of heart as they are. But above this, the poor people and the working classes have no where else to go. With many of them, it is too late in life to begin it anew. It is too late for them to build up acquaintances again. They have lost their houses, but the lots on which the houses were located are there.

EXTRAORDINARY PUBLIC CHARITY.

“Subscriptions to the amount of perhaps $2,000,000 have poured in for their relief. The well-to-do Galvestonian is determined that this relief shall go to those who are poor, that they may to some extent repair their fortunes. The rich themselves will build. In a month from now every man in the place will have all the labor he can perform. Every person will be busy. The work of upbuilding will in some measure rub out the recollection of the horrors of the storm. The Huntington estate will continue its work. Bridges of the very first class will span the waters between the island and the mainland. If great corporations can risk their money, as they are determined to do, why shall not a poor man risk his labor to build another house on the lot he owned?

“Why, even behind the business and necessitous phases of the matter, there rises a sentiment among the people. That sentiment is that we will show the world the stuff that Galveston people are made of. Galveston is all right. The storm could not kill her, though it wounded her to the death almost. There is pluck there. There is pride there. There is money there. And, above all, there are recollections there for the Galvestonian, and he will not be downed by wind and wave. Mark that.”

Galveston, Tex., Sept. 18.—It would be somewhat difficult just now to give an answer to the question: “What is new in the situation at Galveston?” The situation has resolved itself into a routine of hard and systematic work which presents no features of special or startling interest, and which will, in the end, have the effect of showing what a stricken people can accomplish in the face of a fearful calamity if they go about their work in the proper manner.

Generally speaking, conditions are improved at every point. The various committees continue to carry out the tasks they have in hand, and on all sides progress which would not have been thought possible is being made. Business concerns are resuming business or making every possible effort toward that end. Wherever possible, buildings are being repaired, at least to an extent which will protect their contents from the elements. Roofs are being replaced with temporary shields against the wind and rain, panes of glass are being placed in the frames which were destroyed by the storm, and stores are being cleaned out and the damaged goods they contain exposed to the sun and wind in order to dry them and thus minimize the damage done.

RAIN ADDS TO THE SUFFERING.

Early this morning there was a sharp shower of rain—the first since the storm—which, while it lasted but a few minutes, showed how absolutely necessary it is to get the buildings of the town in something like their normal condition as soon as possible. In the Tremont Hotel, the rain over a part of which is the office, came in in many places—through parts of the roof itself, through the broken skylight and through the empty window panes. Out in the residence portion of the town the rainfall undoubtedly caused at least a great amount of discomfort, for hundreds of houses which were not absolutely uninhabitable during the prevalence of fair weather were drenched and deluged, and the weary and heartsick people they sheltered were rendered all the more miserable.

It must be understood in this connection that while the work of repairing and making proof against the elements the building of the city is a very important feature of the situation, the matter of cleaning up the debris and disposing of the dead bodies therein is paramount on account of the danger which might result to the public health were this work not done as rapidly as possible.

Right here it should be said that, all reports to the contrary notwithstanding, there is at present practically no likelihood whatever that anything like an epidemic will result from the presence of decomposing bodies and the deposits made by the water during the storm. This is perhaps a broad statement, but it is one which is backed by all of the eminent medical authorities of the city, who are certainly in a position to know if any one is.

DISINFECTING THE CITY.

Satisfactory progress is being made in the work of removing the offending matter, and a large amount of disinfectants of various sorts is being used where it will do the most good. The fear of an epidemic is one which has probably caused a great deal of uneasiness among the people who have friends and relatives still in the city, but from the standpoint of a layman, who has formed his opinion largely from investigation and from physicians who are interested in the work of caring for the health of the city, it may be stated, without any reservations whatever that the possibility of the prevalence in the future of any malignant disease is very remote indeed. Those interested may well set their fears on this score at rest.

The progress that has been made in securing a correct list of the dead is something wonderful, considering all the circumstances. Debris is being removed in all parts of the town and many more bodies were burned to-day. There are places here, however, which the workers have been unable to reach. Unless he goes into the mass of debris he can not imagine a condition equal to that which exists. There are places where the wreckage is piled so high and is in such an entangled mass that the workers will have great difficulty in getting it cleared away. There are some places where timber enough is stacked in a confused heap which is of quantity sufficient to stock a good-sized lumber yard. Houses have been torn limb from limb, as it were, and from beneath the unexplored depths of these places more bodies will be found.

Dr. J. Wilkes O’Neill, of Philadelphia, Secretary of the Associate Society of the Red Cross, received a letter from President Clara Barton, dated Galveston, September 19, in which she says:

CLARA BARTON’S LETTER.

“The conditions here are as much as you will gather from what you have read. Like some other fields that we have visited, it does not admit of exaggeration. One can scarcely imagine how it could have been worse, and yet one sees the city full of people left alive; but when we think of the hundreds, and it may be even thousands, lying buried and decaying in great heaps of debris stretched for miles along the edge of what was once a town, it is hard to conjecture anything worse.

“Supplies are coming in from all sides. Of course, disinfectants were the first thought, to protect the living against the dead. All that can be done by the purification of fire is being done, the pyres of human sacrifice are burning day and night. I have never had any fears of an epidemic. We have in all our experience, you will remember, never known an epidemic to follow a flood. There will, I believe, be no pestilence here.

“There is a portion of the town containing business houses, which, while being terribly damaged, stood upright, and stores with their valuable contents were entirely submerged. The streets are filled with elegant goods, drying off, and it will be most reasonable charity to buy these of the merchants at the prices put on them—which are scarcely half—in preference to using first those that are sent, until these dealers are relieved in a measure.

“Every accommodation which the city can afford was placed at our disposal. A large warehouse is being fitted to-day ready to receive the carloads of goods on the way. Every official, from the highest to the least, calls to know what the Red Cross needs, and how it can be served. The grateful confidence with which they approach us, or even speak the name, makes one humble, filled with the fear that we will fail to justify the fullness of the confidence and hope that is offered.

“There seems to be an unusually large number of children with no one to care for them or who knows them. There are five or six hundred of these, it is stated, gathered in the houses of the poor, overburdened with their own wants, and yet cannot see another child suffer. We will help them as far as possible, gather them in, and the world will give them homes. It requires great calamities to show how generous and great are the hearts of the people of the land.

GUARDING AGAINST FUTURE DESTRUCTION.

“This city will be built up again, probably finer than before—and it was a fine city always—but I hope never without a protection from the storms. It is criminal to allow people perfectly unsuspecting to settle themselves and live on territory, however beautiful, that is morally certain at some evil moment of destruction. If Galveston is worth the possession that it is and has been to our country, it is worth its protection; therefore we shall see that it shall not fail to implore of the government that it give work to its men and security to its inhabitants by a sea wall, which shall render it almost safe.”

On September 20th we find this tragic recital:

“The storm has claimed another victim, and another soul that passed through that night of nights has gone to its reward. In chronicling the death of Miss Clara Olsen, another pathetic chapter is added to the thrilling tale of horrors which will never be told in its entirety. Miss Olsen, who was a graduate of the Ursuline Academy, and a most estimable young lady, lived with her aged mother on Twenty-seventh street, near the Ursuline Convent. When the storm rose to its height, and their humble home succumbed to the destructive elements, mother and daughter were thrown out into the surging waters.

“With one hand firmly grasping her mother, the young lady bravely struggled against the wind and sea. At last the branches of a large tree were sighted above the raging torrent, and mother and daughter exerted their fast failing energies to reach the luring tree top. As the two weary creatures neared the haven, the daughter reached with one hand to grab a swaying branch. She missed it and was carried backward by the wind. Another attempt and she secured a hold, but her mother had been torn from her embrace by the sea, and was swept to her death beneath the waters.

LODGED IN A LARGE OAK.

“In the early hours of the morning a rescuing party found the almost lifeless form of the young lady resting in the tangled branches of the large oak. She was carried to the home of friends and recovered from the shock. But the thoughts of her mother’s tragic death, and the strange feeling that she was responsible for it, weighed heavily on her heart and mind. The haunted thoughts racked her brain and slowly undermined her failing health until the end came, when the broken-hearted and weary spirit responded to death’s sweet sleep. ‘Mother’s in heaven and I’ll soon be with her,’ were the last words whispered by the girl.”

The work of clearing the streets and the city in general progresses with surprising rapidity and systematic thoroughness. Street after street is being cleared up and the wreckage being stacked away. In accordance with an order from military headquarters, a new plan has been inaugurated in removing debris. Instead of removing the debris and throwing it to one side to remove the dead, it is ordered that the ridge of wreckage along the beach be separated into two piles. The first pile removed is to be stacked out near the beach, where it can be fired and consumed. The bodies found are to be disposed of on pyres placed at convenient intervals between the two piles of debris. The second pile will be fired separately.

Military law has had a wonderful effect in placing the operations of all classes of work under one head, and the work of this general headquarters has won the highest commendation from the good citizens. Every ward has its supervisor, who reports daily all work done in his respective ward, files complaints, makes suggestions, and, in fact, keeps the general headquarters informed on all matters pertaining to the management of his district.

The ward supervisor has in charge a number of foremen, who in turn are in charge of gangs of workmen numbering from ten to twenty men. General Scurry holds the ward chairmen responsible for their districts, and the chairmen hold their foremen accountable for the actions of their gangs of laborers. Every department and branch of public service is under control of Brigadier General Scurry, who is ably assisted by Adjutant General McCaleb, Assistant Adjutant Reid and a score or more of efficient clerks and stenographers. At headquarters is a busy place. There all complaints, all reports, all requisitions and all operations of the military force of over 200 soldiers are filed and made note of.

FLOOD OF TELEGRAMS.

Every class of work has its corps of officers and clerks and every communication or record is carefully filed in the proper place. Hundreds of telegraphic messages are received and answered every day. Orders are promulgated and duplicate copies distributed around the city and a thousand and one matters must be attended to and all of them require prompt action and attention.

General McCaleb, who is in touch with the pulse of the community by reason of his office and who is familiar with the detailed operations of the military department, stated that Galveston was recovering amazingly from the calamity, and that it could be stated as a fact that in three or four days the city will have resumed normal conditions.

“This department has accomplished a great deal, and to the several hundred men who have devoted their time and attention to the city’s welfare too much credit cannot be given,” said he. “It is astonishing to note the spirit of the people of Galveston and the manner in which they go about the work of restoring the city. We have had no serious trouble either in having to impress men into service or in keeping the lawless element under control. Considering the condition of affairs, the city has been unusually orderly and very few arrests have been made of a serious nature. I have tried but five cases since the establishment of martial law, and that tells the story of how the law is being respected.”

A MARVEL OF BRIDGE BUILDING.

The construction of the bridge across Galveston bay has been a marvel of hustling, and the dispatch with which it has been done reflects the indomitable energy, good judgment and skill of the men who had it in charge. The work was not started on the bridge until Thursday of last week, because the material could not be gotten to the place, but when it was started Vice President Barr and General Superintendent Nixon said: “We will run trains into Galveston next Thursday.” Not many people expected that they could make good the promise, and almost everybody said they would be satisfied if the trains came within a fortnight. But the men who directed the work said that trains would cross on Thursday, and they stuck to it.

No work was ever beset by such difficulties as the work of restoring the tracks on the island and the mainland and the building of the bridge. The men on the track had to bury dead humans and animals, strewn by the hundreds over the prairies. They toiled in mud and water under a blazing sun. They had to remove hundreds of wrecked cars and twisted and tangled steel rails. They worked in the stench of dead flesh and the horrible odor of rotting grain and other wreckage. They built the track over a wreck-strewn prairie torn by the angry sea. It was difficult to get supplies to them and difficult also to get material.

The men who rebuilt the bridge worked the first day without dinner. It was difficult to get boats light enough in draft to bring provisions or materials or pile drivers to Virginia Point. When the boarding camp was pitched it stood in a new made cemetery, where hundreds of victims of the storm lay unidentified, unshrouded and uncoffined.

For the first four days after construction was commenced, the bridge timbers were rafted down Highland bayou and West bay, a distance of seven miles, to Virginia Point. When the track on the mainland had been restored to Virginia Point, the delivery of material by rail began. The storm swept away most of the pile drivers around Galveston. One marine driver was sent out and put to work on Sunday closing the gaps aggregating about 1000 feet of trestlework, where the piling had been carried away. The next day another marine driver was sent out, and Assistant Engineer Boschke, of the Southern Pacific, built two skid drivers and sent them out to the work.

GETTING THE TRACKS READY.

When a reporter was at the island end of the bridge, at 9.30 o’clock yesterday morning, the Santa Fe track at the island had just been completed. The steel laying gang on the bridge was about a mile from shore, with the stringer gangs about half that distance away. The caps were laid up all the way to the shore. The Santa Fe has some pretty rough tracks for a short distance this side of the bridge, but the track through the west yards is in good condition and in fair condition the rest of the way in.

The Galveston, Houston and Henderson Railroad completed its island track to a connection with the Santa Fe at the bridge yesterday forenoon, and the Southern Pacific folks expected to complete their track last night. The Southern Pacific track is in very good condition. It has been rebuilt under the direction of Mr. E. K. Nichols, the agent of the company at this point. Nearly all the material used was gathered up from the prairie, some of it having been washed several hundred feet away. The work was delayed by a large number of wrecked cars. There was no wrecking outfit to be had in the city, and it was necessary to remove the wreckage by slow processes.

The Southern Pacific had about 200 cars in its west yard loaded with grain, cotton and merchandise. The yard was terribly swept and many of the cars wrecked, some of them being washed nearly a quarter of a mile away. The new double-track railroad of the Southern Pacific, near the bay shore, was torn to pieces.

Bradstreet’s weekly report commented on the great calamity as follows:

“Galveston was flooded by one of the tropical storms which from time to time vex the southern coast, and as the result of its ravages, thousands of people have been killed, many more have been made homeless, and the city has been reduced to a condition which has led some people of a pessimistic turn to despair of its future. Views of this kind, however, do not take sufficient account of the energy of the American people or of the efforts which will be put forth to save to the commerce of the world one of its great ports.

SUPERIOR TO THE CALAMITY.

“It may take some time for Galveston to recover from the shock and the horror of its late visitation, the most destructive in its effects that has darkened the annals of the United States, but the pride and energy of its people may be counted upon to rise superior to even this calamity. Meanwhile the spirit of helpfulness and charity that has made the people of the United States conspicuous among those of all the world may be counted upon to aid in healing the wounds made by this signal disaster, so that, before long, after the succor most immediately and imperatively demanded has been furnished, the great Gulf port may be once more rebuilt and made to contribute as it has done in the past to the extension of the trade of the country, for whose commerce it has furnished a conspicuous outlet. Earnestly desirous of contributing to such a result, Bradstreet’s will be glad to forward to the proper relief committees any subscriptions which its readers may deem proper to confide to it for the aid of the distressed city and its inhabitants.”

St. Mary’s Infirmary was the refuge where over a thousand of lives were saved from a cruel death, which the terrible storm seemed so anxious to administer, and if it had not almost ceased to be at a premium on account of so many displays of that most noble virtue, the heroism displayed at and around that institution that afternoon and night would be something remarkable. Men worked with five boats all of that afternoon, never tiring in their heroic efforts in bringing women and children from their frail dwellings to this haven of safety, and when these poor frightened people arrived they were still heroically dealt with by the Sisters of Charity.

ONSLAUGHTS OF THE STORM.

Of all those who took refuge there only two lost their lives, and those were in an outbuilding where some fifty-two had taken refuge. While the main building, where most of the people were, shook and trembled under the awful onslaughts made on it by the wind and water, and although the water kept coming up into that building until it stood three and a half feet deep on the lower floor, the building stood the shock bravely and not a life was lost in it.

Only those who were there and heard the terrible noises that the wind and water made in their mission of destruction, and only those who felt the building tremble and saw the houses around the place torn down and washed away, can realize the fearfulness of that evening and night. But during it all the Sisters were there, forgetting their own personal danger in quieting the fears of those who had come to them for refuge. It was indeed a hardened man that did not there that night ask his Creator for protection.

It was early in the afternoon that the refugees began to come. They came first from the flats east of the building, which is lower than the ground around and to the west of the Infirmary, the water rising there first. Then, as the storm kept increasing and the water rising, they began to come from the houses all around. They waded in first, but it was not long before it was too deep and turbulent for that. It was then boatloads began to arrive, and it was in this way that the boats were brought there which afterward were the means by which so many others were saved.

No sooner would a cargo of precious lives be left at the door than the boat would be snatched away by ready hands and taken out to pick up another load. This was continued all the afternoon and up until it became so dark the men could not see which way to go after they had procured a load of frightened people. At first it was a comparatively easy thing to push the boats about and collect people, but along in the afternoon the wind had so increased and the water became so agitated that it was with the greatest danger this was done.

THE MEN STUCK TO THEIR WORK.

Notwithstanding this great danger and the hard task of handling the boats, the men stuck to it manfully. Not once did they stop for even a breathing spell. They realized the terrible danger that was before those who had not found a stable refuge, and stood to the work heroically. Many times were the boats almost swamped, and many times did the occupants and those who were pushing come within an ace of drowning, but looking death in the face and defying the wind and waters to do their worst, they kept at their mission of salvation until blinded by the darkness. Even before they made their last loads houses were beginning to go down, maiming and drowning their inmates.

After the men had shown the heroism born in them, it was the turn of the women to show their mettle, and they did it, every one of them. The Sisters forgot the great danger of instant death and went about comforting and trying to ease the fears of the many who had come to their institution seeking safety. But even they shuddered with fear when they saw the house formerly occupied by the patients from the Santa Fe road, go down, burying the refugees whom they knew to be in the building, go down, not onto the ground, but into a boiling, seething mass of water—that water which seemed to vie with the wind in its destruction.

Then when the water kept rising and the wind increasing in velocity, until it seemed that nothing could stand before it, it was, indeed, a time to be afraid. This condition continued for several hours, which seemed days to those whose hope was in its abatement, until about midnight the waters began to subside and the wind to decrease in velocity.

It was not until between 3 and 4 o’clock in the morning, however, that the water had gone down enough to allow any one to venture out. When the water had receded enough for one to go outside, it was found that the Santa Fe wing of the hospital, which was a frame building, was a mass of wreckage and had washed over against the rear of the Infirmary building proper. Knowing that there were refugees in the building when it went down, there was fear for their safety.

IMPRISONED IN THE WRECKAGE.

At once men began a search and found the frightened and maimed refugees imprisoned down among the wreckage. The work of getting them out was begun. All were found to be alive except two, a child and a crippled woman named Mary Sweeny. Although the survivors were alive, they were horribly cut up and wounded, which was proof of the terrible night they had spent and of their awful experience.

Then daylight came to present a picture such as none had ever seen and none ever cares again to cast his eyes upon. The clean sweep of the waters and their horrible destruction was in full view, and to add to the awfulness of the picture, the water had left several bodies of its victims at the door of the Infirmary. The people then left, not to go to their homes, but to go to where their homes had been. Many returned on account of having no place to go, and for days stopped at the Infirmary, their wants being administered to by the good Sisters. Since then, that institution has been, as well as a hospital where the injured have been attended to, a house of refuge where those made destitute and homeless by the storm have stayed.

Martial law, which had been declared, was suspended at the earliest moment consistent with the peace and safety of the city, as will be seen by the following:

Headquarters Office, Galveston, Texas, September 20.—Hon. Walter C. Jones, Mayor of Galveston, Texas—Sir: “I have the honor to report that, in my opinion, the conditions upon which you based your proclamation declaring martial law in Galveston, have rapidly changed. Order has been restored, the energies of the city have been directed into the proper channels, and the moment is opportune for a return to civil processes.

“I would respectfully ask that you prepare to resume the functions of civil government within twenty-four hours.

“Such troops of the Texas volunteer guard as may be necessary will be retained here while needed to aid the civil authorities in maintaining order. Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

CITY GOVERNMENT THE SAME.

As far as the general public is concerned, there is to be no radical change in the general government of the city. The change means a shifting of the powers that govern from the military to the civil process, but the good work inaugurated and expedited under the able and efficient direction of General Scurry will be continued and hastened to an early completion. General Scurry and his military command will remain in the city, and will be continued in service for police and guard duty as heretofore, except that they will act under the direction of the civil authorities.

The resumption of civil control of the affairs of the city will remove the bars to traffic into and out of the city so far as good citizens are concerned, but certain restrictions will be maintained to keep out persons not wanted in this community. With the military force and the increased police department and sheriff’s department there will be enough men to guard all the gateways to the city and patrol the streets of the city.

Mayor Jones and General Scurry desire it to be clearly understood that the lawless element will be shown no quarter. Mayor Jones has instructed General Scurry that he wants law and order maintained at any cost and that the military command shall be backed in their work.

From to-day noon it will not be necessary for persons desiring to leave the city to secure passes, nor will it be necessary for persons desiring to come to Galveston to secure passports. However, all gateways will be guarded and suspicious characters will be subject to scrutiny and examination before being allowed to enter the city.

The sporting element, including gamblers and others of the sporting fraternity, will not be allowed to come to Galveston, and if found here their immediate deportation will follow their conviction. Drunkenness will not be tolerated and all arrests upon this charge will be prosecuted to the severest extent of the law. On this score Mayor Jones and General Scurry are most emphatic and they seek to impress the people most firmly in this regard.

SALOONS CANNOT OPEN.

“I want it distinctly understood that the suspension of martial law does not mean that the saloons may open up,” said Mayor Jones yesterday. “I desire ‘The News’ to announce that the saloons must remain closed until further orders and that no back or side door business will be permitted. The saloons were not closed under martial law, but were closed by my order before martial law was proclaimed. The proclamation closing them, therefore, holds good and will not be revoked until I am satisfied that it can be done with safety. Although martial law will be raised to-morrow, General Scurry is going to remain with me and assist me as he has so admirably done during the past ten days.”

The citizens of Galveston were not in a position to look after the affairs of the city government under the circumstances. It was a public calamity that befell the city and every citizen had his burden of sorrow to bear. There is no gainsaying the fact that the establishment of martial law was the best course to be pursued under existing circumstances and the beneficial results are plainly manifest on every hand. Public spirited citizens volunteered their services and men who held back were promptly impressed into public service for their own as well as the good of every person living in Galveston.

Organization of this vast army of workers was perfected, departments were instituted to conduct the different classes of labor, and under strict military discipline order was restored. The clearing of the streets, burial of the dead, caring for the living and providing for the restoration of the city was commenced in earnest under military supervision and urged to most flattering success. There are few who regret the institution of martial law, but there are many who would deplore the removal of the military forces.

General Scurry, who has won the commendation and heartfelt thanks of this community, is a man of few words. He says he tried to do his duty and he is glad that the people of Galveston appreciate the fact. He says he was never treated more kindly and he feels that the citizens were alive to the fact that what he did was for their own good and the good of Galveston.

PLACE AND ORDER OUT OF CHAOS.

Mayor Jones stated to a “News” reporter yesterday that the people of Galveston are obligated to General Scurry for the way he has conducted the affairs of the city in this hour of peril. He has brought peace and order out of chaos and with a remarkable display of executive ability he has brought sunshine from darkness and gloom. Without the slightest friction, without disturbance of any consequence, and without aid or advice from anyone, he has wrought wonders and restored the city to normal conditions.

As the work of removing the debris progresses more dead are found buried beneath the ruins. There are no official records at hand of the bodies found, and it is probable that the record will never be completed. It is known that there are many bodies found and disposed of by volunteer parties who failed to make a detailed report of the work. It is also known that there were many dead swept to sea and to mainland. Only those found on the island and on Pelican are accounted for. Even those on the mainland were not recorded. Some of them were from Galveston and some were from that section.

Several hundred of these bodies were disposed of by relief parties coming into Galveston on the first relief trains which came near the bay shore after the storm. The trains could not get to the bridge nor to Virginia Point, and the relief parties put in their time burying the dead. No record was kept of this work.

It is not known how many bodies are still in the ruins. It is known that there are many dead buried beneath the debris yet undisturbed. There is absolutely no way of estimating with any degree of accuracy how many unfortunates remain in their death prisons beneath the mountains of wreckage yet to be released. It is believed by some that many surprises await the removal of all the wreckage.

LAST TRAIN OVER THE BRIDGE.

Mr. J. T. Grimes, of near Brandon, has a fine farm and is a substantial and reliable citizen highly esteemed and respected. He was in Galveston during the hurricane and related a remarkable experience. He said:

“I left here Friday and got there Saturday evening. The storm was on when we got there. Our train was the last that went over the bridge before it went down. The water was then rising rapidly and nearly over the tracks. The conductor asked if any one had ever seen it that high before. Nobody had. A carload of cattle that followed us on the bridge went down with the bridge.”

“How came you to go to Galveston?” asked the reporter.

Mr. Grimes hesitated, as if considering, then said: “Well, sir, it was this way: I was sitting on the gallery with a baby in my arms—the child of that man standing there, whose wife cooks for me. Suddenly it was just like some one came to me and told me to go to Galveston. It came so powerfully I sprang up and handed the baby to its mother and told her I must go, and ordered my clothes prepared for the trip. In two hours I was on the way.”

“Did you have any idea what you were summoned to Galveston for?”

“No; only I knew there was some disaster threatening my children. I did not know what it was, but I could not refrain from going.”

Asked further about the trip to Galveston, he said the passengers got into the depot, but he never saw or heard of any of the train crew, and he thought they all must have perished. “I got a negro to show me the way to where my daughter, Mrs. Chilton, lived. The water was then all over the city and rising rapidly. When we got to Eighth street, my son-in-law here, Stufflebram, called out to me across the street. He had seen and recognized me. I went over and we started on. There was a lot of timber and driftwood floating, and some people along the way were pulling all of it in the houses they could get.

HOUSE WASHED TO FRAGMENTS.

“We had to push it apart to get through in places, and some of them laughed and said push it to them, and I did so, and they began hauling it in. Nobody thought how serious it was, but looked on it as merely high water. A little later all those buildings along there were destroyed and all the people there drowned. Stufflebram had taken his wife up to Chilton’s and Clarkson also, because it was a little higher ground there. We finally reached it, on Twenty-second street, just opposite Harmony Hall. We were all in the house together when Prof. Smith sent word over from Harmony Hall that we had better get out at once.

“We went to the hall, and the last of the party had hardly cleared the sidewalk when a large brick building gave way and mashed Chilton’s house to fragments. We staid in Harmony Hall until the cyclone ceased, though it looked once as if the hall would go when the roof blew off. It was the awfulest time I ever saw. My daughters and their families were saved, and I am truly thankful for it. They said at Galveston that we were the only family in the city who all got away alive. It must have been providential.

“We left there Thursday and went to Houston, where we were nicely treated. I never saw such charitable people and I just love Houston. Charity was a mile high there. They fed us and clothed our children and paid our fare to Hillsboro. The railroads, too, were nice, and did all and more for us than one could expect. I never saw or heard of such a time as we experienced at Galveston. Nobody can tell it as it was. It is impossible. For two days we didn’t think of eating. The dead people floating, the ruins all about us, destroyed all sense of hunger. It wasn’t the water that killed, death seemed to be in the atmosphere, there was so much electricity and such furious winds. It is awful, even to think of.”