Читать книгу The Red Cross in Peace and War - Barton Clara - Страница 37

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But the respite was all too short for our purposes. The rapidly melting snows of February, 1884, brought the one thousand miles of the Ohio River again out of its bed. A wild cry went out all over the country for help. The government, through Congress, took immediate action and appropriated several hundred thousand dollars for relief, to be applied through the War Department. The Red Cross agents must again repair to the field, its societies be again notified.

But its president felt that if she were to be called every year to direct the relief work of the association in these inundations it was incumbent upon her to visit the scene in person, to see for herself what floods were like, to learn the necessities and be able to direct with the wisdom born of actual knowledge of the subject; and accordingly, with ten hours’ preparation, she joined Dr. Hubbell on his way and proceeded to Pittsburg, the head of the Ohio River. There the societies were telegraphed that Cincinnati would be headquarters and that money and supplies should be sent there. This done, we proceeded to Cincinnati by rail.

Any description of this city upon our entrance would fall so far short of the reality as to render it useless.

The surging river had climbed up the bluffs like a devouring monster and possessed the town; large steamers could have plied along its business streets; ordinary avocations were abandoned. Bankers and merchants stood in its relief houses and fed the hungry populace, and men and women were out in boats passing baskets of food to pale, trembling hands stretched out to reach it from third story windows of the stately blocks and warehouses of that beautiful city. Sometimes the water soaked away the foundations and the structure fell with a crash and was lost in the floods below; in one instance seven lives went out with the falling building; and this was one city, and probably the best protected and provided locality in a thousand miles of thickly populated country.

It had not been my intention to remain at the scene of disaster, but rather to see, investigate, establish an agency and return to national headquarters at Washington, which in the haste of departure had been left imperfectly cared for. But I might almost say, in military parlance, that I was “surprised and captured.”

I had made no call beyond the Red Cross societies—expected no supplies from other sources—but scarcely had news of our arrival at Cincinnati found its way to the public press when telegrams of money and checks, from all sides and sources, commenced to come in, with letters announcing the sending of material. The express office and freight depots began filling up until within two weeks we were compelled to open large supply rooms, which were generously tendered to the use of the Red Cross. A description could no more do justice to our flood of supplies than to the flood of waters which had made them necessary—cases, barrels and bales of clothing, food, household supplies, new and old; all that intelligent awakened sympathy could suggest was there in such profusion that, so far from thinking of leaving it one must call all available help for its care and distribution.

The government would supply the destitute people with food, tents and army blankets, and had placed its military boats upon the river to rescue the people and issue rations until the first great need should be supplied.

The work of the Red Cross is supplemental and it sought for the special wants likely to be overlooked in this great general supply and the necessities outside the limits of governmental aid. The search was not difficult. The government provided neither fuel nor clothing. It was but little past midwinter. A cyclone struck the lower half of the river with the water at its greatest height and whole villages were swept away in a night. The inhabitants escaped in boats, naked and homeless. Hail fell to the depth of several inches and the entire country was encased in sleet and ice. The water had filled the coal mines so abundant in that vicinity until no fuel could be obtained. The people were more likely to freeze than starve and against this there was no provision.

We quickly removed our headquarters from Cincinnati to Evansville, three hundred miles below and at the head of the recent scene of disaster. A new staunch steamer of four hundred tons burden was immediately chartered and laden to the water’s edge with clothing and coal; good assistants, both men and women were taken on board; the Red Cross flag was hoisted and as night was setting in, after a day of intense cold—amid surging waters and crashing ice, the floating wrecks of towns and villages, great uprooted giants of the forest plunging madly to the sea, the suddenly unhoused people wandering about the river banks, or huddled in strange houses with fireless hearths—the clear-toned bell and shrill whistle of the “Josh V. Throop” announced to the generous inhabitants of a noble city that from the wharves of Evansville was putting out the first Red Cross relief boat that ever floated on American waters.

The destroyed villages and hamlets lay thick on either bank, and the steamer wove its course diagonally from side to side calling the people to the boat, finding a committee to receive and distribute, and learning as nearly as possible the number of destitute persons, put off the requisite quantity of clothing and coal, and steamed away quickly and quietly leaving sometimes an astonished few, sometimes a multitude to gaze after and wonder who she was, whence she came, what that strange flag meant, and most of all, to thank God with tears and prayers for what she brought.

In this manner the Red Cross proceeded to Cairo, a distance of four hundred miles, where the Ohio joins the Mississippi River, which latter at that time had not risen and was exciting no apprehension. Returning, we revisited and resupplied the destitute points. The government boats running over the same track were genial and friendly with us, and faithful and efficient in their work.

It should be said that, notwithstanding all the material we had shipped and distributed, so abundant had been the liberality of the people that on our return to Evansville we found our supply greater than at any previous time.

At this moment, and most unexpectedly, commenced the great rise of the Mississippi River, and a second cry went out to the government and the people for instant help. The strongest levees were giving way under the sudden pressure, and even the inundation of the city of New Orleans was threatened. Again the government appropriated money, and the War Department sent out its rescue and ration boats, and again the Red Cross prepared for its supplemental work.

In an overflow of the Mississippi, owing to the level face of the country and the immense body of water, the valley is inundated at times thirty miles in width, thus rendering it impossible to get animals to a place of safety. Great numbers drown and the remainder, in a prolonged overflow, have largely starved, the government having never included the domestic animals in its work of relief. This seemed an omission of vital importance, both humanely and economically considered, and the Red Cross prepared to go to the relief of the starving animals of the Mississippi valley. It would also supply clothing to the destitute people whom the government would feed.

The navigation of the Mississippi River calls for its own style of boats and pilotage, the latter being both difficult and dangerous, especially with the changed channels and yawning crevasses of a flood.

The steamer “Throop” was left at Evansville and the “Mattie Bell” chartered at St. Louis and laden with corn, oats, hay, meal and salt for cattle; clothing and cooking utensils for the destitute people; tea, coffee, rice, sugar and medicines for the sick: and as quickly as possible followed the government steamers leaving the same port with rations of meat and meal. These latter boats kindly burdened themselves with large quantities of our forage which our overladen boat could not contain.

We soon found that our judgment in regard to the condition of the animals had been correct. Horses, mules, cows, sheep and pigs had been hastily gotten upon floating rafts and platforms of logs raised above the water, or had taken refuge, as many as could, on the narrow strips of land, known as broken levees, say eight to twelve feet in width, just peering above the water; and here they stood often crowded beyond the possibility of lying down, with no morsel of food save the wee green leaves and tips of the willow branches and gray moss which their pitying owners, largely poor negroes, could gather in skiffs and bring to them. Day by day they stood and wasted, starved, and their bodies floated down the stream, food for the birds of prey hovering above. Week after week hour after hour the mighty river, pouring through its monster crevasses, spread wider and wider every hour. We left our steamer at times and were rowed out in little boats for miles alongside of the levees, and went among the cattle. Some waded out into the water to their backs to reach after the green scum which gathered and swam delusively upon the surface. Some, unable to stand, lay stretched at length with head and horns dabbling in the mud, fearlessly turning great pitiful eyes upon us as we approached. Others, reeling, followed us tamely about, as if beseeching us to feed them. I need not add that they were fed. Committees of both white and colored persons were formed and the requisite quantity of food for the animals and clothing for the people were left with these committees at every needy point. Our steamer was reladen, or our supplies replenished at each available port, and in this manner we passed to New Orleans, and returning, resupplied our committees.

The necessity for a change of boat on the Ohio and Mississippi has been mentioned; that the “Throop” was discharged at Evansville and the Red Cross body passed over to St. Louis. Perhaps some reference to the journals of that date would best illustrate the necessity for these movements, as well as the spirit of the people and of the times.

From an editorial in the Chicago Inter-Ocean of March 31, 1884, the following extract is taken:

The day is not far distant—if it has not already come—when the American people will recognize the Red Cross as one of the wisest and best systems of philanthropic work in modern times. Its mission is not accomplished when it has carried the generous offerings of the people to their brethren who have met with sudden calamity. It does not stop with the alleviation of bodily suffering and the clothing of the destitute—blessed as that work is, when wisely done, so as not to break down the manly spirit of self-help. The Red Cross has become a grand educator, embodying the best principles of social science, and that true spirit of charity which counts it a sacred privilege to serve one’s fellowmen in time of trouble. The supplying of material wants—of food, raiment and shelter is only a small part of its ministry. In its work among suffering humanity, when fire or flood or pestilence has caused widespread desolation, the Red Cross seeks to carry to people’s hearts that message which speaks of a universal brotherhood. It is all the time and everywhere sowing the seed of brotherly kindness and goodwill, which is destined in time to yield the fruits of world-wide peace. Once let the love of doing good unto others become deeply rooted and practiced as an international custom, and arsenals and ironclad navies will give way to the spirit of equity. War will cease as a relic of barbarism, and peace will shed its benedictions over all nations.

From the Evansville Journal of April 3, the following:

The president of the Red Cross left for St. Louis last night, where she will take charge of a steamer which has been chartered under her direction for relief service in the lower Mississippi.... The mission of the Red Cross, which has done such wonderful and effective work in the Ohio valley, is not yet completed. The lower Mississippi cries for aid. The destruction of property below the mouth of the Ohio is, if possible, greater than was experienced on the Ohio. Life has not been in such desperate peril, but property has been swept away by oceans of water, and the landowner, with corn and cotton fields, has been reduced to pauperism.... This year the overflow has been of such a character that neither crop, mortgage, nor advance are safe, and the renter and half-share farmer must suffer. The Red Cross comes to the rescue. Miss Barton will be accompanied by several ladies from this city and will be joined by many gentlemen and ladies from St. Louis.

From the St. Louis Democrat, April 4, the following:

Miss Clara Barton arrived at the “Southern” yesterday morning. Miss Barton is accompanied by Mrs. De Bruler and Miss Enola Lee, of Evansville, Ind., Dr. J. B. Hubbell, field agent, and Mr. John Hitz, of Washington, D.C. The members of the party were busily engaged yesterday in superintending the loading of the steamer “Mattie Bell,” which leaves for the inundated districts of the lower Mississippi this morning. Miss Octavia Dix, secretary of the St. Louis branch of the Red Cross, will accompany the expedition.

The brave men of the Fifth Corps in the Cuban War of 1898, endured hunger and thirst and other conditions better remembered than described. Some of them partook of the gracious offerings of hot gruel, malted milk, boiled rice, apple wine, and prune cordial at the hands of Mrs. Dr. Gardner. It will perhaps interest them to know that she is the same who, as Miss Enola Lee, was one of the company of the “Mattie Bell” in 1884.

Some of the men of the War of 1861 may remember the officer who had charge of the Commissary Department at Washington. I shall never forget the man who, despite all rank and position, stood many an hour of many a day beside my army wagons loading at his headquarters, and who wisely directed the selection of material best suited to and most needed at the proposed terminus of the dark and weary journey I was about to undertake—it was then Colonel, now General Beckwith of the regular army. He was in 1884, holding the position of Commissary at St. Louis. In the same old time spirit and in the old time way he came upon the deck of our little steamer, and directed the placing of the supplies of the “Mattie Bell.” One will never forget the terror depicted on his fine face when he saw the bales of hay taken on board. “Great heavens, you are not going to risk that! Think of it—you in the middle of that great, rushing river, no land in sight, and your ship on fire!” Still, the risk was taken, and both the ship and the stock were saved.

A few hours previous to the sailing of the “Mattie Bell” from St. Louis a stranger came on board and asked to be permitted to go with us. There was nothing very remarkable in his appearance, either for or against; but on general principles we objected to taking on a stranger without some good reason for it. His quiet persistence, however, won, and perhaps through lack of active measures on the part of some one he went. He was a silent man—walked by himself, or stood alone on some unfrequented corner of the deck. As we got lower down and more tributaries were pouring their contributions into the mighty volume that rolled and seethed about and beneath us, the danger became more imminent. Running after dark was out of the question, and timely orders were given one afternoon to tie up for the night; but our captain, anxious to make a headland a few miles further on, begged permission to run a little later, sure he could reach it before dark.

His request was rather reluctantly granted, and as we steamed on a fog and mist came up and night set in with us still afloat. In less than a half hour the stranger rushed to me with: “We are in a crevasse! We must pull out or we are lost! I have warned the engineer and captain.” The forward rush of the boat ceased; she stood still, pulled first one way then the other, shivered and struggled amid the shrieks of the reversed engine, while we waited, thoroughly aware of the situation and the doom awaiting us all, depending on the power and strength of one mute body of steel and one firm man at the helm. At length the struggling ceased; the engines had triumphed over the current. We commenced to move slowly backward, and with a grateful awe in our hearts that no words could express we found a place of safety for the night.

Daylight revealed to us a crevasse opened the day before where the river had broken through to a width of thirty rods, with the water pouring down a depth of twelve or fifteen feet in a perfect torrent into the current below, and rolling off in a self-made track to some other stream or to the Gulf of Mexico.

I have no way of accounting for this incident, but the reader will perhaps not be “too hard” on me, if I say with the father of “Little Breeches,” “I have believed in God and the angels ever since one night last spring.”