“January 16th: Gray morning early. Fine coast. Reached Palermo 9:30 and anchored outside breakwater. Some delay in getting permission from port authorities to land. Nurses and some of our party went ashore to buy clothing for the refugees. Then took drive about the city. Visited hurriedly royal palace and most interesting chapel with mosaics, one of the finest things of the kind I have ever seen. The cathedral inside quite uninteresting. Splendid view over the city and harbor and mountains from terrace of palace. Got back to lunch at two P.M. Visitors after lunch. Helped to make translation of flowery address to Captain. Warship ‘Garibaldi’ went to sea just before sunset, passing very close. We left at seven P.M. for Civitavecchia and Rome. At dinner our Captain made a speech, saying how well we had all worked under him. Other speeches followed; some of us stayed on deck till eleven P.M. At Palermo gave 30,000 francs and landed 1,200 mattresses and 1,300 kilos of food from ship stores.
“January 17th: At sea going to Civitavecchia. Fine day. Blue sea with white caps and more motion than any time since we left on this cruise. Took some snaps of old men and children, refugees, but they and all our Little Sisters of the Poor were seasick. Morning packed and handed over all my papers to Gay and wrote letters. After lunch busy till we landed, helping Flint and Elliott pay bills on ship. Reached Civitavecchia at about 3:30, but did not anchor for an hour. Finally got off in launch, towing two life-boats (the boats Belknap had commandeered before they left Civitavecchia; the third was lost by the clumsy sailors when they landed the goods at Messina the day of the dreadful storm). Ambassador and Mrs. Griscom and others waiting. After some delay we got off and reached Rome about eight. Have come back tired out but well. Very glad I went but glad to get back.”
Truly misery makes strange bedfellows! The misery of Messina had brought together an oddly assorted company of volunteers on board the “Bayern.” There was Mr. Gay, the Secretary of the Committee, a Fellow of Harvard College settled in Rome, who has devoted many years to the preparation of a History of the Italian Risorgimento; his splendid library at the Palazzo Orsini contains a remarkable collection of books and pamphlets on the subject. There was William Hooper of Boston, a man of affairs and a famous Harvard athlete, who had left the ease of his apartment opposite the Palazzo Margherita in Rome to act as treasurer to the expedition. There was Wilfred Thompson, the painter, who had left his studio and his little cat, to act as supercargo; Robert Hale, another painter, who in the list of assistants is set down as an assistant in the forward hold; the Avvocato Giordano, one of the most brilliant of the writers on the Tribuna. There was Weston Flint, the assistant treasurer, four Italian doctors, six nurses, and John Elliott (J.), who had left his studio to act “as interpreter and to assist in after holds and elsewhere.” These were the permanent members of the expedition. Now and then across this constellation of fixed stars flamed the meteor Chanler, a trail of glory behind him, and the indomitable Cutting, our Consul from Milan, who served in a thousand capacities beside inducing the German sailors to carry up the heavy cases to the temporary Consulate. They had some mishaps of course. The first day Mr. Gay fell down and broke a rib; the same day J. tumbled down an iron ladder into the hold and scraped the flesh off his lean shanks. Thompson, who had a cough, was drenched to the skin over and over again—that did not improve his health—and Cutting—alas and alas, that gallant soul who could never think of himself, had many a ducking besides the one Thompson describes, and endured endless discomforts at the “temporary Consulate” where he, Chanler and Major Landis lived during those first ghastly days. The only tie that bound together these men of varying tastes and habits, was the Red Cross each wore on his arm. In all the letters, reports, journals that tell the story of the “Bayern’s” cruise the most striking thing is the way these men speak of each other. Every man saw his comrades in a golden glow of enthusiasm; they were all good men and true in their fellows’ eyes!
As the “Bayern” steamed across the harbor of Civitavecchia J. looked into the blue brocade saloon. Sor Michaele, the old opera singer, sat at the white and gold piano, his stiff fingers surprisingly limbered up, striking the keys briskly, while his shrunken voice quavered out “Spirito Gentil,” the glorious aria from La Favorita that he had sung in his far off youth, now made familiar the world over by Caruso and the “Victor.” After he had struck the last chords, the old man’s head dropped on his breast and he began to sob.
“Coraggio!” cried J., “what is wrong with you? We’re almost there; your troubles are nearly over.”
“It is all finished,” sobbed the old man. “I have not been so happy for twenty years as I have been on board this ship. At the almshouse there is no piano; who knows if I shall ever see one again?”
Soon after the “Bayern’s” return, the Ambassador despatched a relief expedition under the leadership of Mr. Gay to the Calabrian mountain towns. Mr. Gay was accompanied by Captain Armando Mola of the Italian army, and Mr. W. Earl Dodge, who took with him his large automobile, thereby adding greatly to the effectiveness of the expedition. They had a wonderful trip, visiting forty villages, some of them almost inaccessible mountain hamlets. During the eleven days their trip lasted, they brought help to many a forlorn community that had heretofore received no outside assistance since the disaster. Mr. Gay has written an admirable report of the expedition, so full, so graphic, that it leaves nothing for me to say, save that I am thankful that this chapter of the romance of the American Relief Work has been told so well. The report should be read by all interested in knowing the full scope of the work. Mr. Gay’s letter to the Ambassador written from Palmi, gives a striking picture of what he saw and accomplished.
“Palmi, February 10th, 1909.
“American Ambassador,
“Rome—Palazzo del Drago.
“Tuesday, after an hour and a half in the automobile on very bad roads, and three hours on mules, we arrived in a snowstorm at S. Cristina, with nine mules loaded with clothing, and were received like the Messiah. We bought on the spot, at a low figure, 12,500 lire worth of standing timber, securing thus a triple benefit to the sufferers, namely, furnishing shelter to the homeless, saving the transport on the lumber which represents forty per cent. of the cost, and giving work to the unoccupied in cutting the wood. Today we are again visiting villages in the automobile. Tomorrow we shall start at daybreak in the automobile for Cittanova, Gerace, Melito, and Reggio. I am returning 5000 lire to the Committee, left over from the letter of credit on Palmi. We should like, if possible, a new letter of credit on Reggio for whatever amount the Committee thinks advisable.