Part 19
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.
By daylight the storm had modified and the sea subsided. Then came work. First of all my mules and carts were started with search parties for drowned people. Before night there were nine such laid out in my coal shed. To those we gave Christian burial, but to twelve others found during the next forty-eight hours, guided by the buzzards that had begun their feasts, we for sanitary reasons had to treat them as we did the many carcasses of animals, bury them at once where we found them. On the second day I captured a passing sailboat, one of the very few left, and obtained from Port Royal a big load of provisions, with which I started a store, paying the big gang of laborers that I had employed with checks on the store, where food was furnished at cost.
RED CROSS TO THE RESCUE.
On the fifth there came to us a great blessing. The Red Cross Association had been appealed to and had responded. Miss Barton, its president with her staff of physicians, nurses and other trained people, came, investigated and took charge of us, and under their systematic, business-like methods, taught them by much experience in many great calamities, are now keeping, and will keep, as long as the good people of the country will furnish the means, starvation away from this miserable mass of humanity.