CHAPTER XXII.
Galveston Storm Stories—Fierce Battles With Surging Waves—Vivid Accounts from Fortunate Survivors—A City of Sorrow.
A resident of the stricken city gave the following graphic narrative of his experiences, which help to make up the dark picture of Galveston’s agony and desolation:
“Some people asked, ‘How did you feel when your house went down in the storm?’ It is a question easier asked than answered. I was among the few who lost their houses early in the storm and before darkness set in. Up to fifteen minutes or less before the house went down I had hopes that it might survive the storm. For three hours before it went I watched the waters patiently, mostly from the south windows, but of course had the restlessness natural to people who are waiting for a great crisis in the lives of themselves or those dear to them. To sit perfectly still under the circumstances was impossible.
“A few moment’s rest by a south window was followed by an uncontrollable desire to go to some other part of the house to see how matters were looking. Wandering from one point to another, the round of the house was made, and once more I found myself back of the south windows to watch the waters from the main danger point. I do not think that I or any of my family could have been called excited. There was a restless, uneasy feeling among us all, but actually no fear. When my wife left the house she fully expected to return to it when the storm was over. My boys were with her and my little girl, and for probably half an hour I was alone.
“During that time I was partly engaged in keeping the north and east doors closed. The wind blew them open several times, but did not break the hinges. When one was blown open torrents of rain poured in, and I remember thinking of the task the women would have in drying the floors and disposing of articles that had suffered from the water. From this it can be judged that even at that time I was not looking for a total wreck. How did I feel? I was not excited. I was not in fear of my life. It seemed to me that what I regretted was the property loss and the struggle I would have to repair damages.
“But a total loss—a sweeping away of everything I had in the world—was not thought of. In fact, it is hard to realize now, a week after the storm. The mind cannot rest all the time on one’s loss, and at times it seems when I want something at my house all I have to do is to go out and get it. My good wife last night caught herself the same way. Speaking of the need of a shirt for Sunday, she asked: ‘What do you want to buy a shirt for, when you have three or four—oh, I forgot; they were lost in the storm.’ We have been housed safely, and it has seemed more like a visit than a total loss of property to her, except when she has felt the need of something that was carried away in the storm.
THE OLD FAMILY BIBLE.
“As time passes and we begin to realize that all is gone, there is a desire to find something, even if it is of no value, when the wreckage is cleared away. My wife expressed the wish that the family Bible might be found, be it ever so dirty and torn. It contained records that could be nowhere else secured, and if a new one is purchased and the records again written, it must be entirely from memory.
“But though we lost all, we were among those families where no life was sacrificed in the storm, and in that respect were more fortunate than some of our neighbors and many of our friends. The number of broken families in Galveston seems innumerable. As one walks the streets he meets friends of whom he had never thought, and the first greeting is ‘Did you save all your family?’ An affirmative answer brings out the remark, ‘You are lucky; many have lost not only all their worldly goods but their families.’”
“In many instances the reply is that your friend has saved his family but has lost his other relatives. It seems that there is scarcely an individual in the city who has not lost some relative. Where the loss is not positive it is believed to have occurred, because no news of the supposed dead ones has been received.