The San Francisco calamity by earthquake and fire Part 11

"'Ah, Julia, dear, you must stay to luncheon,' she said, extending her fingers just as though she stood in her own drawing-room."

MISERY DRIVES SOME INSANE.

"I looked at the maid in astonishment, for I had never met the young society woman before. The maid shook her head and whispered when she got the chance:

"'My mistress is not in her right mind.'

"'Where is her husband?' I asked.

"'He has gone to try to get some food,' said the girl. 'She imagines that she is in her own home, before her dressing table, and is having me do up her hair against some of her friends dropping in.'

"'She must have suffered,' I said, 'to cause such a mental derangement.'

"The girl's eyes filled with tears. She told me that her mistress had seen her brother killed by falling timbers while they were hurrying to a place of safety. A little farther on I saw two women concealed as best they might be behind a tuft of sand brush, one lying face down on the ground, while the other vigorously ma.s.saged her bare back. I asked if I might help, and learned that the ministering angel was the unmarried daughter of one of the city's richest merchants, and that the girl whom she succored had been employed as a servant in her father's household.

The girl's back had been injured by a fall, and her mistress' fair hands were trying to make her well again.

"Thus has this overwhelming common woe levelled all barriers of caste and placed the suffering mult.i.tude on a basis of democracy. On a rock behind a manzanita bush near the edge of Stow Lake I saw a Chinaman making a pile of broken twigs in the early morning. The man felt inside his blouse and swore a gibbering, unintelligible Asiatic oath as his hand came forth empty. Observing my escort, the Chinaman approached and said:

"'Bosse, alle same, catchee match?'

"My escort gave him the desired article, and the Chinaman made a fire of his pile of twigs. 'Why are you making a fire, John?' I asked.

"'Bleakfast,' he replied laconically.

"I asked him where his food might be, and he gave us a quick glance of suspicion as he said briefly, 'No sabbe.'

"We stood watching him, evidently to his great distress, and finally he made bold to say, 'You no stand lound, bosse. You go 'way.'

"We left him, but after making the tour around the lake came back to the same place. There sat four people on the ground eating fried pork, potatoes and Chinese cakes. In a young woman of the group I recognized one whom I had seen dancing at one of Mr. Greenway's Friday Night Cotillion b.a.l.l.s in the Palace Hotel's maple room during the winter. They offered to share their meal with us, but we told them that we had just come from breakfast in Oakland. I told them about the strange conduct of their Chinaman, who was traveling back and forth from his fire to the 'table' with the food as it became ready to serve.

"The father of the family laughed."

SOCIETY FOLKS COMPELLED TO CAMP.

"'Yes,' he said, 'that is Charlie's way. He has been with us many years, and when our home was destroyed he came out here with us in preference to seeking refuge among his countrymen in Chinatown. Yesterday we were without food, and Charlie disappeared. I thought he had deserted us, but toward dark he came back with a bamboo pole over his shoulder and a Chinese market gardener's basket suspended from either end. In one of the baskets he had a pile of blankets and a lot of canvas. In the other was an a.s.sortment of pork, flour, Chinese cakes and vegetables, besides a half-dozen chickens and a couple of bagfuls of rice.'

"'Charlie had been foraging in Chinatown for us before the fire reached that quarter. He made a tent and improvised beds for us, and he has the food concealed somewhere in the vicinity, but where he will not tell us, for fear that we will give some of it to others and reduce our own supply. Charlie boils rice for himself. He will not touch the other food. Without him we should have been starving.'"

G. A. Raymond, who was in the Palace Hotel when the earthquake occurred, says:

"I had $600 in gold under my pillow. I awoke as I was thrown out of bed. Attempting to walk, the floor shook so that I fell. I grabbed my clothing and rushed down into the office, where dozens were already congregated. Suddenly the lights went out, and every one rushed for the door.

"Outside I witnessed a sight I never want to see again. It was dawn and light. I looked up. The air was filled with falling stones. People around me were crushed to death on all sides. All around the huge buildings were shaking and waving. Every moment there were reports like 100 cannon going off at one time. Then streams of fire would shoot out, and other reports followed.

"I asked a man standing by me what had happened. Before he could answer a thousand bricks fell on him and he was killed. A woman threw her arms around my neck. I pushed her away and fled. All around me buildings were rocking and flames shooting. As I ran people on all sides were crying, praying and calling for help. I thought the end of the world had come.

"I met a Catholic priest, and he said: 'We must get to the ferry.' He knew the way, and we rushed down Market Street. Men, women and children were crawling from the debris. Hundreds were rushing down the street, and every minute people were felled by falling debris.

"At places the streets had cracked and opened. Chasms extended in all directions. I saw a drove of cattle, wild with fright, rushing up Market Street. I crouched beside a swaying building. As they came nearer they disappeared, seeming to drop into the earth. When the last had gone I went nearer and found they had indeed been precipitated into the earth, a wide fissure having swallowed them. I worked my way around them and ran out to the ferry. I was crazy with fear and the horrible sights.

"How I reached the ferry I cannot say. It was bedlam, pandemonium and h.e.l.l rolled into one. There must have been 10,000 people trying to get on that boat. Men and women fought like wild cats to push their way aboard. Clothes were torn from the backs of men and women and children indiscriminately. Women fainted, and there was no water at hand with which to revive them. Men lost their reason at those awful moments. One big, strong man, beat his head against one of the iron pillars on the dock, and cried out in a loud voice: 'This fire must be put out! The city must be saved!' It was awful."

TERRIBLE SCENE AT THE FERRY.

"When the gates were opened the mad rush began. All were swept aboard in an irresistible tide. We were jammed on the deck like sardines in a box. No one cared. At last the boat pulled out. Men and women were still jumping for it, only to fall into the water and probably drown."

The members of the Metropolitan Opera Company, of New York, were in San Francisco at this time, and nearly all of these famous singers, known all over the world, suffered from the great disaster.

All of the splendid scenery, stage fittings, costumes and musical instruments were lost in the fire, which destroyed the Grand Opera House, where the season had just opened to splendid audiences.

Many of the operatic stars have given very interesting accounts of their experiences. Signor Caruso, the famous tenor and one of the princ.i.p.als of the company, had one of the most thrilling experiences. He and Signor Rossi, a favorite ba.s.so, and his inseparable companion, had a suite on the seventh floor and were awakened by the terrific shaking of the building. The shock nearly threw Caruso out of bed. He said:

"I threw open the window, and I think I let out the grandest notes I ever hit in all my life. I do not know why I did this. I presume I was too excited to do anything else."

GREAT SINGERS ESCAPE.

"Looking out of the window, I saw buildings all around rocking like the devil had hold of them. I wondered what was going on. Then I heard Rossi come scampering into my room. 'My G.o.d, it's an earthquake!' he yelled.

'Get your things and run!' I grabbed what I could lay my hands on and raced like a madman for the office. On the way down I shouted as loud as I could so the others would wake up.

"When I got to the office I thought of my costumes and sent my valet, Martino, back after them. He packed things up and carried the trunks down on his back. I helped him take them to Union Square."

It is said that ten minutes later he was seen seated on his valise in the middle of the street. But to continue his story:

"I walked a few feet away to see how to get out, and when I came back four Chinamen were lugging my trunks away. I grabbed one of them by the ears, and the others jumped on me. I took out my revolver and pointed it at them. They spit at me. I was mad, but I hated to kill them, so I found a soldier, and he made them give up the trunks.

"Ah, that soldier was a fine fellow. He went up to the Chinamen and slapped them upon the face, once, twice, three times. They all howled like the devil and ran away. I put my revolver back into my pocket, and then I thanked the soldier. He said: 'Don't mention it. Them c.h.i.n.ks would steal the money off a dead man's eyes.'"

They say that Rossi, though almost in tears, was heard trying his voice at a corner near the Palace Hotel.

TEDDY'S PICTURE PROVES "OPEN SESAME."

"I went to Lafayette Square and slept on the gra.s.s. When I tried to get into the square the soldiers pushed me back. I pleaded with them, but they would not listen. I had under my arm a large photograph of Theodore Roosevelt, upon which was written: 'With kindest regards from Theodore Roosevelt.' I showed them this, and one of them said: 'If you are a friend of Teddy, come in and make yourself at home.'

"I put my trunks in the cellar of the Hotel St. Francis and thought they would be safe. The hotel caught fire, and my trunks were all burned up.

To think I took so much trouble to save them!"

In spite of the news of all the woe and suffering which we hear, it is cheering to learn also of the many thousands of heroic deeds by brave men during the terrible scenes enacted through the four days pa.s.sing since the eventful morning when the earth began to demolish splendid buildings of business and residence and fire sprang up to complete the city's destruction. The Mayor and his forces of police, the troops under command of General Funston, volunteer aids to all these, and the husbands of terrified wives, and the sons, brothers and other relatives who toiled for many consecutive hours through smoke and falling walls and an inferno of flames and explosions and traps of danger of all kinds, often without food or water--toiling as men never toiled before to save life and relieve distress of all kinds--all these were examples of heroism and devotion to duty seldom witnessed in any scenes of terror in all time. There are brave, unselfish men and heroic women yet in the world, and all of the best of human nature has been exhibited in large dimensions in the terrible disaster at San Francisco.