Chapter 52
The Ladies Meeting went exactly as planned yesterday. Rose came home with a long list of ideas and began to paint again. Stella had told them about her sketches and water colors before she could quiet her.
Mrs. Shevington suggested she bring several to the next meeting so they might, if she agreed of course, auction them off at their first public auction. They would need every hand-designed item to sell.
Rose agreed, but only if the ladies thought they were worth selling. Today she sketched Lily holding Carolina Jane. And one of Emmanuel and Ready with the buggy. Once those were finished she put away her pencils and finished hemming two new little dresses. She had missed several church services, unwilling to leave little Carolina Jane at home. But she had promised to read an announcement at church about the upcoming auction so was arranging for a cool bath and the laying out of her clothing.
Once finished Portia had come up and was combing the tangles from her hair when they heard someone at the door. Carolina Jane was already asleep. Lily came bouncing up the stairs. Papa Emmanuel said ‘dis come for you.” She handed Rose a telegram.
Rose eyed it, then quickly tore it open. Who could it be? Her eyes fell on the first line.
“It’s from Captain Wyatt.” She said. “He’s never sent a telegram before. He’s always written. What could be the matter?” She wondered aloud, then read.
“It ain’t bad news is it?” Portia’s eyes grew large.
“No.” Rose stopped and read again. “It seems Captain Wyatt has informed me that he will be spending the winter months in London, and should I need any assistance I am to send a telegram.”
“He ain’t coming back ‘til next year?”
“That’s what he is saying. Says further that he has attained a flat.”
“Well, I’ll be. Captain Wyatt done got hisself a place in London. Don’t dat beat all.”
Rose set the paper aside and thought about his last visit, how nicely he dressed and his new hat. Perhaps that load of cotton he took over did bring him enough funding to make himself comfortable. Well, she decided that was good, then. Her one dread was that she did not want to deal with Mr. Dalton. She still remembered that strange comment he made about getting his house back again. This house.
He was an odd man, but she had other things to worry about and set the telegram aside.
Sunday Church was the best thing that she’d done all week. Emmanuel had driven her alone just like he always did and she was glad to see two new ladies raise their hand to consider helping Jamison Orphanage make their new move.
The ride home was hot and dreadful. She came in and up the stairs in a flash to find her daughter awake and in her cradle. She bent over and before she could get her Sunday bonnet off, the child had tangled her hands in the ribbons. Rose laughed out loud.
By Tuesday morning it was so hot, Rose told Portia to shut both doors against the heat. She had absolutely no motivation. Thank goodness tomorrow was the first day of September. At least in a month or so the air would begin to lose the sultry wetness that now lay upon them like a rain-soaked blanket. Tonight she was thankful her bedroom was at the back of the house overlooking the gardens. The front of the house was too bright from the sun reflecting on the water in the morning hours.
Rose slipped into a cotton gown and tied her hair up so it didn’t hang on her neck and climbed into bed early.
Suddenly Rose found herself not in a dream but falling from her bed. The floor was shaking beneath her. And the noise! Was it a hurricane or were they cannonballs? Her mind would not work. Were they at war again?
She heard screams that were not her own. The baby! She crawled on hands and knees her stomach roiling and saw the cradle pitching back and forth violently. There were explosions of light outside her windows. She could see in the dark. When the cradle swung her way she held on and turned it on it’s side and felt ceiling plaster raining down on her as she grabbed the child with both hands and covered her with her own body. The fearsome screams were muffled beneath her breast. She held herself away slightly to keep from smothering her.
There were bricks falling outside, she could hear the clicking together over and over again as they slammed against each other. What evil was upon her and why didn’t the noise stop?
Rose wondered if the house were going to topple down on top of them. Dust and plaster kept falling across her back. She grabbed the counterpane and threw it over her head. As suddenly as it began the infernal shaking stopped. Afraid to move, lest the roof caved in, she waited. They were tented in the blanket, so she lifted herself away and heard only whimpering.
“There there..it’s over now.” She heard her own voice, then others calling from below. There were screams outside. Fire exploded again and again outside her windows. It was the dead of night. Had the world ended? What could be the matter. People were yelling. It wasn’t just her own house…something dreadful had happened to the entire city.
“Miz Rose. Miz Rose.” She heard someone calling her name. So this was not a dream, then?
It was Thomas. “I’m here. I’m here.” She yelled back.
“Are you safe?”
“Yes I am safe.”
“And the child?”
“Yes, we are both safe.”
“Don’t move. Stay there. They’s cracks in the walls. I be coming up the steps slow-like, Miz Rose. You stay right there you hear?”
“I hear Thomas.”
Now that the shaking had stopped she lifted the blanket off and dust flew and clumps of ceiling lay all over the floor. The noise outside increased as people came out of their homes yelling for family members, crying, some screaming for help.
Rose rolled away from the baby careful to protect her eyes from the dust. And what she saw nearly ripped her heart out. She was smiling!
Suddenly, her heart gave way. She began to sob. The little thing was safe and looking at her as though she were a hero. Rose gathered her to her breast and cried all the harder.
“Miz Rose, you hurt?” Thomas yelled up.
“No Thomas, just happy.” She yelled quickly. “We’re fine. We’re fine.”
“Thanks be to God.” Rose heard him say.
“Indeed.” She agreed and took another look at her child to be sure she wasn’t dreaming again. The noises outside increased. It sounded like the whole town was gathering in White Point Gardens. What disaster had befell them?
“Almost there Miz Rose.”
“Don’t hurry Thomas.”
Each time another explosion occurred outside it lit the inside of the dark house. The gas lights along the street were dark. There must have been a hurricane. It was the season for it. She spit white dust out of her mouth and took in a short, shaky breath.
She heard Thomas making his way down the hall. And then heard Portia’s voice below.
“You be up der yet Thomas?”
“I’m up Granmama. She safe. Dey both safe.”
“Thank you Jesus.” Rose thought she heard Portia say.
“Thank you Jesus.” Thomas repeated.
Rose agreed.
“What happened?” She asked Thomas, never so glad to see someone.
“Earthquake. Bad one. Done shook the bricks right off’n the house. We nearly got caught, too.” He said quickly assessing the situation as best he could in the dark.
“Come on now, we gonna get you down before dis house cracks down on us all. Best we get outside and over to the park. Dat’s where everybody’s goin’. I hear them out there. And if it is a quake we gonna get some more shakin’. Here, give me the baby, whilst you stand up.”
She tried to stand, but her legs were so weak from fear, she had to grab the foot of the bed and pull herself up.
“You take the baby and hold onto my shoulder. I’ll go ahead and take each step. Feel along the wall and don’t let go the wall. Another quake starts, get away from de walls okay?”
“Yes.” Rose said. “Hurry, Thomas…”
“Yep, we
going down now…mind you watch the steps and put one foot down first before you trust the step…each one now.”
Rose followed his every instruction and when her toes touched the marble floor, she gave a sigh. About that time the earth began to shake beneath their feet. “Here get in the doorway.” He shoved her from behind and stood next to her. Carolina Jane began to whimper again. Rose murmured comfort to the baby and prayed.
“Der dat one not last as long as the other. But it was bad.”
Another explosion from down the street lit up the scene. Bricks from the house were strewn across the porch which listed to the right, it having come off it’s foundation like a ship sinking in the water. Telegraph poles lay tangled among the still sparking wires and shouts of fear and anguish filled the darkness.
“Oh Thomas.” Rose closed her eyes tight and wished when she opened them the scene would be gone. “We are undone.”
“Bricks fall Miz Rose, but we can put ‘em back up again. I feared that people done died in their beds.” He said quietly.
Rose couldn’t speak a word.
When the shaking stopped and the dust settled again, she heard Portia and Emmanuel as they made their way through the dining room. Glass was crushed everywhere. Rose hadn’t even noticed. She was barefoot.
“You okay?” Portia’s voice was nearby.
Rose reached out with one hand. “Yes. Are you and Emmanuel and Lily all right?”
“We fine. Our little carriage house in the back be fine. Thinking the big house done got the worse of it.”
“Thank God we’ll all accounted for.”
“Amen. Amen. Thank you Jesus.” Portia said over and over. “I done heared dat baby cry and cried myself.”
Rose’s knees began to shake when she realized how they could have all been dead right this minute and tossed the thought out of her head. They were still here, talking, breathing, alive. That was enough for now.
“We all headin’ for the park.” Emmanuel said. “Grab anything you can for the baby there and I’ll bring some blankets and pillows and something to make a tent. We can’t go back in the house till morning. We gonna get more shakin’ afore the night’s done.”
Portia called over her shoulder she was going to get the diapers off the line and the milk for the child. “You go on over.” She called.
Rose needed shoes and gave the baby to Lily and went to the closet beneath the stairs and tried to open the small door.
Thomas came and jerked the door open and stood back, letting the dust settle. “Best we wait, make sure dem steps don’t come down.”
He leaned in and felt around until he found two shoes to match and took her elbow and hustled her out to the porch. There was a small space where they could stand. She got her shoes on and took the baby, afraid to let her out of her arms.
Thomas cleared a path for them throwing bricks as he went. The sound of the clicking bricks reminded her of the noise that woke her up. She flinched each time one hit another.
The Oleander bushes out front were crushed and the beautiful white flowers, poisonous as they were beautiful, lay beneath tree branches from the live Oak nearby. She didn’t want to see the damage to the beautiful tree. And she did not turn around to look at the house.
Portia soon joined them with a tablecloth filled with items they might need. “We get some wood and build a fire over yonder and make do.”
Thomas led the way. People were tripping over large and small debris that had been shaken loose. Lily had not uttered a single word. Rose could see she was in shock. They walked together and found neighbors with the same looks on their faces. Some folks were coming down the brick-laden streets stepping over poles, holding bedding. Some were sobbing, others were yelling instructions to family members, hoping to keep the living alive.
Then there were other sounds. There were fathers holding onto grief-stricken mothers who’d lost their children and would not leave them in the houses alone in the dark. Rose cringed. Darkness and death and dread filled the air.
Some already had gas lamps lit and were helping others. Portia laid out a huge blanket on the ground, then Emmanuel came with sticks and poles cut off the trees with his knife to make tent-posts.
“Come on inside here, Portia ordered Lily. Rose followed. Pillows were tossed around and they all found a place to lay their heads. Portia insisted on holding the baby and feeding her. “You go lay down now. You take care of her tomorrow. I’ll hold onto her tonight so’s you can rest.”
Rose watched her wrap up the little girl, just two months old and hold her to her large breast. She was within arm’s reach and Rose shut her eyes, which were dry from the dust, but soon were watered by thankful tears. She turned her face away and hoped she could sleep.
Chapter 53
Rose hardly slept, but kept her eyes closed and her lips praying. Voices of death were all around. Some crying out for lost children, others having recently received news their loved one had died in their bed. She never slept and before dawn most were up and moving about the makeshift campsite. Portia was already at the fire with the baby in her arms, Lily gathering sticks that were plentiful. Thomas was off helping other families and Emmanuel fed and watered the horses and went inside the house to assess the damages.
“The front of the house was hardest hit. The winds off the water and the earth shaken below made big cracks in the roadways. Watch yer step. Stay ‘way from the house, too. Days and days they’ll be aftershocks. We done been in one before.”
Rose, wide-eyed, listened to each comment.
“You’s need anythin’ you let me go back into dat house.” Emmanuel warned.
Portia came with a cup of tea. It was sweet and Rose gulped it down. Then toast appeared and she chewed and swallowed, knowing she would need the sustenance for the long day ahead after a near sleepless night.
Rose fed the infant with her little spoon and handed her to Lily who seemed to need something to hold onto, while she tidied up. Soon everyone was wandering about wondering what to do. The looks on their faces mirrored what she herself felt. Shock. Unbelief. And fear.
She soon learned, through talk of the ladies, that Patrice and her daughter Colleen had perished in their beds. The husband and father was found wandering the streets. The Irish captain was without his wife and daughter so soon after they had come to this new land. Tears boiled over as Rose thought of the little blue-eyed lass and her mother’s worry she had lost her child. Now the two of them were together. In another place. She couldn’t stop crying so went to the tent and let the tears flow, her face buried in a pillow.
News kept coming in and each time Rose wanted to put her hands over her ears and stop the world from spinning. No word yet about her friends, Ava and Stella. They lived on the other side of town, but couriers coming back said hardly a building stood without some sort of damage. Bricks lay cast down in piles, porches and verandahs were most badly damaged. It was reported that hardly a chimney was still standing in the whole of Charleston.
Two days passed, the wagons with wooden boxes rattled by. Rose was glad she didn’t have to watch the parade of death march by her house. But the park became eerily silent everytime a wagon passed two streets over, the metal wheels clunking over each cobblestone. God seemed so far away she wondered if the inhabitants of their beloved city would recover. It would take months maybe years.
Their family group was getting into a routine. Water was easily had from the Cooper and Ashley Rivers. Lily spent a great deal of time, her eyes lifeless as she made trip after trip to the river, looking at her feet most of the time. Thomas had found himself digging holes in the ground wary of sinkholes to bury the dead. He came back each evening for three solid days, ate and slept. Finally the fourth day they were finished. There were 60 people dead and many more laying in Roper Hospital. That building had been shored up first to care of the injured.
Between meals Portia took Lily and they went to help others any way they could. Rose stayed with Carolina Jane, feeling ea
ch time she held her and fed her, that she was one of the blessed ones who still had her child. On the seventh day after the earthquake Rose looked up and saw Stella and Foster coming her way. She was so full of joy she ran to them and threw her arms around both at the same time. The funniest thought shot through her head.
Charleston ladies did not allow themselves such silliness, shaking of hands, hugging or showing any sort of affection in public. Now it didn’t matter a bit. Everyone was on the same level, living in tents and makeshift houses. News came from Foster that the bank’s vault was safe and people were beginning to draw out monies to buy or trade for food at the markets that were still cleaning up debris, actually using the debris to built lean-to’s against the weather.
People, if nothing else, were clever. They used whatever they had to find a way to keep themselves together and help those who had needs.
Rose laughed as Stella and Foster looked around their new living quarters. “Smart tent you have there.” Foster smiled.
“Yes, Emmanuel was very creative. It seems he lived though an earthquake before. We have our own closet that doubles as our clothesline.” Rose pointed. He wrapped a good long line of rope around two trees and brought hangers so it looked like someone’s closet.
“Very inventive.” Foster agreed.
Rose noted Stella was not saying too much. She was halfway through her pregnancy and looked tired. “Sit down, Stella. Tell me. How did your house fare?”
She noted her friend was unusually quiet until they got off together. Rose spread a quilt and while Foster went for a bucket of water for them, the ladies talked. Rose didn’t know how to ask, but decided with all that had happened, it was best to come right out.
“Is the babe all right?” She leaned close and caught Stella’s eyes.
“I don’t know.”
“Can you find Doctor Case?” Rose was afraid to ask if he were still alive.
“No, there are too many other people he needs to take care of. But I have been so tired and I can’t think straight. Our house is one of the least injured in the quake, but I am afraid to go back inside.”
“As you see, we haven’t gone back in either. Any day now, but I’m in no hurry.” Rose admitted. “We’ve done just fine and thank the Lord it hasn’t stormed or rained once. But Emmanuel and Portia said it’s almost time for a good rain. There will be little shocks, but hopefully none as large as the first few days.”