Many stories of heroism, of self-sacrifice, of pathetic devotion, are told of that awful night; many strange incidents are related. Strong men perished, while frail and delicate women survived unhurt; skilled swimmers succumbed; helpless babes floated to safety. One little child, torn from its mother’s arms by the gale, drifted through the débris, across the island, across the bay, and was found the next day, quite unharmed, nested like a bird in the limbs of an oak tree on the mainland!
When the morning dawned, pale and wan, a ghastly spectacle met the dazed eyes of the survivors. The waters, receding sullenly, exposed masses of ruins; thousands of corpses strewed the uneven sands; not a sound from the outer world penetrated the dismal silence. There was a single moment of paralyzed despair; then, with a splendid courage, almost without parallel, the stricken people took heart and set life in motion again for themselves and for their beloved city. Help poured in from every direction: money, provisions, clothing, doctors, nurses; best of all, words of sympathy and cheer, which lightened the task. In an incredibly short time almost all traces of the Great Flood had disappeared, and the lovely island lay serene and smiling, as before, on the bosom of the Gulf. It is believed that from six thousand to seven thousand people perished in the storm.
In September, 1901, a sea wall, planned for the protection of the island against such storms, was begun; this enclosing wall, which is to cost one and a half million dollars, will be when finished sixteen feet broad at the base, sixteen feet high, and five feet in breadth at the top.
The dawn of the twentieth century was marked by the discovery of petroleum in vast quantities in southeast Texas. In the earliest days of Lone Star history, certain of the incurving bays west of the Sabine River were known as the Oil Ponds, because they offered upon their smooth surface a secure refuge from the stormy Gulf outside to all manner of sailing craft. The meaning of their strange quiet was undreamed of until the first well on Spindletop Heights near Beaumont shot its geyser of oil hundreds of feet in the air. The oil wells at Beaumont and elsewhere now number many scores; their rich output seems inexhaustible.
Long-continued droughts and the appearance of the boll weevil, an insect very destructive to the growing cotton, marred the splendor of this opening year. Vigorous measures have been taken to exterminate the boll weevil, and despite all drawbacks the crops of cotton, corn, and rice have steadily increased in size and in value.
In 1903 S. W. T. Lanham was inaugurated governor.
XI.
TEXAS.
FROM THE DOME OF THE CAPITOL.
On the 16th of May, 1888, there was a mighty gathering of people at Austin. They had come—men, women, and children—from every quarter of the great state: from the Pan Handle and from the coast; from the wide prairies of the west, and the wooded hills and valleys of the east. There was a throb of pride in every heart and a sparkle of joy in every eye; for Texas was about to give a housewarming, as it were, and her children had met together to have a share in the home feast,—the new capitol was to be dedicated.
The beautiful City of Hills was bathed in a flood of golden sunshine. The air was sweet with the breath of roses blooming in the gardens. A thousand flags and pennons and banners fluttered from housetops, floated from tall flag-poles, and waved from open windows. There was music everywhere, and everywhere the tread of moving feet and the gay noise and confusion of a happy crowd.