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

PREPARED FOR THE WORST.

Two hours after Captain Haines’ attempt, the life saving station collapsed and Mrs. Haines, the nearest neighbor of the lighthouse keeper’s family, and one of the crew were killed. As the shades of night began to fall the destruction in and about the Point was about complete, and the keeper of the light and his faithful companion withdrew to prepare themselves for the worst. From the sleeping room of Colonel Anderson a stairway, winding around a steel post, which extends from the top of the light tower through the center of the entire structure, and fastened to a screw pile in the sand bed, leads to the light tower.

Promptly at the usual hour the keeper who, for five years, has watched and cared for the light, made his way to the tower with his brass kerosene lamp, and placed it within the strong, magnifying circular lens. The linen curtains which shade the glass enclosure during the day were drawn aside and the bright light shed its rays out into the gloom, and storm-tossed vessels in port were able to get their bearings.

The water rose higher and higher and the storm waves sent their spray over the top of the tower. The hurricane increased in violence and the slate from the roof of the keeper’s home was picked off piece by piece by the wind. An hour passed, and the keeper had made frequent journeys to the tower to see that the light was burning. He went up again, but had hardly reached the landing through the small opening in the floor, when one of the large panes of thick glass on the northeast side was smashed by flying slate. The light was extinguished and a piece of glass struck the aged keeper in the head and face. The opening in the lens faced the broken window pane and it was useless to relight the lamp. Stunned by the blow, and bleeding from the wounds in his head and face, the old man made his way down the stairs where his wife waited and watched for his return. “Mama” quickly dressed the wounds, and then the aged couple went into the parlor and in silence waited for the end.

Above the howling tempest the agonizing grinding of the jetty railroad iron on the metal supports of the lighthouse struck terror to the hearts of the anxious watchers imprisoned above. The slate roof suffered severely and the rain pouring in from above added to the pitiful experience of the night.

IN DANGER OF STARVATION.

This is just the plain story of what happened on that fateful night, but the sufferings of the next few days were even greater to the keeper and his wife. There were no provisions in the house and the supply of vegetables, fuel and fresh water in the “basement” had been washed away. The water around the house even after the tide went out was over ten feet deep. The life boat had been stolen by the storm, and not even a plank to serve as a raft was to be found on the premises. Having weathered the terrible storm they were apparently left to starve to death. The shipping in the harbor had suffered and no boats were to be seen in the channel. The flag of distress hoisted on the gallery was not responded to, and no small boat could enter through the breach in the jetty; it was too dangerous. Alone and forgotten. Who thought of the lighthouse and the two mortals imprisoned there by the storm and isolated by fate?

Three days passed and the scant supply of three or four cans of soup and fruit had long since been exhausted. On the third day a voice was heard calling from below and Mrs. Anderson recognized her son, C. D. Anderson, Jr., a boy of 16 years, swimming in the water from the jetty to the lighthouse. He had for three days been trying to get to his father and mother, having been up the bay with a surveying party when the storm struck the island. Dr. Mayfield, the quarantine officer, had brought him in his boat from town.

Young Anderson was fearful of the fate of his parents and he made his way to them as soon as possible. In a small bundle which he managed to save while he swam the stream, he carried some nourishment, but he had not contemplated that he would find his mother and father suffering for food and water. The boy returned to town and notified the authorities to send food and fresh water to the water-bound keeper and his wife, but the request was not complied with. The city was weighted with sorrow and every man was burdened with grave responsibilities. No boats were running out in that direction.

Ten days wore away and the situation had become critical with the noble keeper and his wife when the Arbutus, the lighthouse tender, came into port, and passing the light house saw the signal of distress flying from the prison-home. That day a supply of food and two small casks of tainted water were delivered at the light house. It was not the food that the family was accustomed to—it was simply hard tack and salt meat, which is supplied as rations to the crews of vessels. The government does not furnish supplies to its light house keepers, and Colonel Anderson’s home always boasted of the goodies served at meal time at his own expense.