The Great Galveston Disaster / Containing a Full and Thrilling Account of the Most Appalling Calamity of Modern Times Including Vivid Descriptions of the Hurricane and Terrible Rush of Waters; Immense Destruction of Dwellings, Business Houses, Churches, and Loss of Thousands of Human Lives; Thrilling Tales of Heroic Deeds; Panic-Stricken Multitudes and Heart-Rending Scenes of Agony; Frantic Efforts to Escape a Horrible Fate; Separation of Loved Ones, etc., etc.; Narrow Escapes from the Jaws of Death; Terrible Sufferings of the Survivors; Vandals Plundering Bodies of the Dead; Wonderful Exhibitions of Popular Sympathy; Millions of Dollars Sent for the Relief of the Stricken Sufferers

by Paul Lester

THE RESPONSE FOR RELIEF.

Thus the suspense had to be borne till the pilot reached the boat, and at this junction only the confirmation of their worst fears were realized. Only the passengers who were Galvestonians, all of whom agreed to work upon their arrival, were allowed to come in; the others were sent to Texas City, from which place they reached their various homes. The papers show how letters, telegrams and cables are daily coming in by thousands; also how the whole world has responded to the cry for help. Even the actors in New York, Philadelphia and all the large cities gave performances for the benefit of the sufferers.

One lady writes to a newspaper as follows: “While so many deeds of heroism shown during this late storm are being told I deem it one of my greatest privileges to be able to mention the names of Mr. Clark Fisher, Mr. Sam Robertson and Mr. Clarence Anglen, who, by their daring and courage, so heroically saved my family of six ladies with their large raft on East Avenue I, during the fiercest part of the storm. We had drifted with our house until it had become dismembered and then were thrown upon the mercy of the waves and strong current. These young gentlemen all cleverly proved by their coolness and bravery what was in them.”

Another lady writes: “September 8, at about 4 o’clock, things began to be alarming at my place, at Seventeenth and O, and houses were leaving before that. I hoped my little home was an ark. It proved to be until the water began to pour wildly into the windows. I and an old man named Inco, who rented a rear room from me, got over the stair-casing and climbed until our heads were at the ceiling. He said to me: ‘We die here together; good bye.’

“At the same moment the house separated. I climbed over the door through the transom and on to the roof, thence from one timber to another, always keeping to the top. A dog always kept by me and caused me a great struggle. It was about Twentieth street and O½ that something hit my head, which seemed either to give me courage or ease. I remember laying my head down on the raft and felt indifferent.

“About 4 o’clock the next morning I rejoiced to see where the gulf and island separated. I was resting not extremely uncomfortable at the top of drifts of a two-story house at Twenty-fifth and beach. Some Italians came along, looked unconcernedly at me. They were hunting someone and went on. I still halloed until I heard Mr. Beckman, who, with assistance, took me to a house. They could find nothing to cover me, but gave me whisky.

“Then came Mr. Womack, who left nothing undone to make me safe. He carried me over lumber on a board, with blanket and pillows, to his rooming house. From there I was taken to the Sealy Hospital, with the two blankets and pillows.”