George MacLaine, of St. Louis, arrived at Dallas from Galveston, where he spent the time from Friday until Tuesday. “I was intending to leave on the 1.50 train Saturday afternoon,” he said, “but I could not get away on account of the storm, the water having risen to such an extent that it could not cross the bridge.
“My experience was pretty much the same as a large number of others have given. During the storm I was in a building located at the corner of Twenty-fifth and Market streets, two or three blocks above the Santa Fe depot. We were in the parlor of the hotel on the second floor, with about eight feet of water in the lower story. The parlor was crowded with guests and refugees, men and women, and from the windows I witnessed a great many affecting and pathetic sights, particularly in the way of appeals to the men in the hotel to assist in rescuing women with children in the neighborhood who had become separated from their husbands.
“One case I particularly noticed—that of a woman and five young children, whose house fell on top of them, but, fortunately, in such a way as to protect them from the force of the waves and wind. Several attempts were made by various parties to rescue this family, but the rescue parties always returned with the statement that on account of the debris and the swift current they were unable to get near enough to the house to render any assistance. The first attempt was made about 6 o’clock in the evening.
“They were eventually given up for lost, when, to the surprise of everyone, cries for help were heard from the ruins about 5 o’clock in the morning. Appeals were again made to some of the white men in the house to go to their relief, but, I am very sorry to say, they were in vain until finally two colored men who worked in the kitchen and one of the whites volunteered their services and succeeded in bringing the party to the hotel. They had practically nothing on them when they came, but they were taken in hand and the best done with them in the way of giving them clothing and food that was possible. There were so many cases of this kind that, as I say, it is simply a repetition of the experience of others.
DRUNKEN REVELRY IN THE STREETS.
“On Sunday morning, immediately after the storm and as soon as daylight appeared, the scene on the streets was one I shall never forget. There were drunken women, almost nude, with their male companions, also under the influence of liquor, parading the streets and laughing and singing as if returning from a prolonged spree. There were some of the best citizens of Galveston hurrying to and fro, asking this one and that one if they had heard anything of their sisters, wives or some other member of their families.
“There were others who had been present when their families had perished, weeping and wailing over their losses, young children crying for their parents who had perished, parents crying for the loss of their children, and others walking aimlessly about or standing around as if they were stunned. Everyone appeared so thoroughly unnerved that there was a total lack of organized effort to search for the missing or to collect food.
“Almost immediately after the waters receded sufficiently to permit people to wade or walk in safety men and women could be seen with their long poles and baskets, whose principal aim and object seemed to be to profit by the misfortunes of the poor people who had lost their lives or their homes. On Sunday afternoon I took a walk out Tremont avenue to inquire as to the safety of some of my friends who lived on that street, and after making a few visits proceeded to the beach to witness the destruction that had taken place in that neighborhood.
“Of course it has been told by several how everything had been swept off the face of the land in that direction, but I could not help noticing the large number of colored people with their baskets and shawls searching through the ruins of what had been the finest homes in Galveston for bric-a-brac, silver and other articles of value. I stood for some time, amazed that they could have the audacity to do what they were doing, but as nobody seemed to interfere with them or question their right, I passed on as every one else did, simply feeling astounded that people could be so inhuman at such a time. I saw one colored woman who had filled her basket and was returning to the city when she met one of the unfortunate owners of the property, who, by the merest chance, noticed sticking out of the woman’s basket some article that she was able to identify as her property.