IMPRISONED BY THE STORM.Thrilling Experience of Colonel Anderson, the Fort Point Lighthouse Keeper and His Wife—In the Face of Death the Light Was Put Up—Isolated for Days in the Wrecked House Without Supplies.
The government reservation of several hundred acres situated at the extreme eastern end of Galveston island met the full force of the storm of September 8th. Unprotected from any side the destructive hurricane and relentless gulf swept the historic spot and the massive concrete fortifications crumbled like so much papier mache. The substantial, double iron-braced barrack buildings and quarters were battered into kindling wood and not a stick stands to mark the place where thirteen buildings stood. Situated within the United States government reservation were the quarantine officers’ home and headquarters; the torpedo casemate, torpedo cable-tank, torpedo warehouse, engineers’ store rooms and wharf leading to the cable tank and casemate.
These structures were located on the bay shore in the northwestern corner of the immense reservation. Following the jetty as it extended eastward and curved to the south were the United States life saving station and the Fort Point light house, each about two hundred yards apart. At the northeastern point of the island are the two rapid-fire batteries pointing over the jetty and commanding the channel in the bay between the two jetties. Around on the eastern and southeastern edge of the point are the 10–inch rifle battery and the 12–inch mortar battery, about 500 yards apart. In the centre of the reservation were grouped the barrack buildings. These buildings were built about eighteen months ago and afforded accommodations for a one-battery post.
The government was raising this reservation by filling in the site about ten feet above mean low tide. The quarters had not been occupied, having been built on piling, high in the air, to allow for the filling which was being distributed in the shape of sand pumped from the bay by the government dredge boat. The detail of twelve men from battery O which cared for the batteries at Fort San Jacinto, which was the new name given to the historic “Fort Point” of early Texas days, occupied quarters in temporary structures erected in the rear of the 10–inch battery.
Before the storm Fort San Jacinto was a most inviting and attractive place. The immense reservation east of the fence, which marked thewestern boundary, extending across the island from bay to gulf, was a most picturesque section of the island. When the storm had finished its merciless onslaught, Fort San Jacinto and its government structures presented a picture of terrible ruin. The costly coast fortifications, which had been constructed to withstand the attacking powers of the navies of the world, were silenced and rendered helpless by the combined batteries of the wind and sea.
The life saving station, where Captain Edward Haines and nine of his brave comrades stood ready to render succor to the storm-driven wretches, was picked up with its load of boats, beach apparatus and other life saving paraphernalia and crushed like a match box. Only four or five of the long pilings mark the site of the station house. Mrs. Haines, wife of Captain Haines, and one of the crew met their death at the station when the building collapsed.
The south jetty, which marked the northern and eastern boundaries of the reservation, pointed its long line of rail-capped rocks five feet above the tide before the storm. But when the northeast gale backed the waters of the bay against the stone wall and the storm swelled the bay out of its banks, the water rose above the jetty and swept like a millrace to meet the waters of the gulf, which came running in from the southeast. This was early in the afternoon, and as the hurricane increased in velocity and the gulf roared out its warning, the terrible work of destruction commenced. The reservation was inundated and the force of the mighty waters quickly dug channels beneath the fortifications.
Then the wind and gulf joined forces and the great coast defenses succumbed to the attack and were washed from their foundations and half buried in the grave dug by the waters of the gulf. The immense concrete and rock structures toppled like toy houses as the greedy waters plowed channel after channel in the quicksand upon which the batteries stood. With the wooden structures, the barracks and warehouses, the wind made quick work, and the wreckage was shot through the rapids and carried to sea.
As the waters on their reservation rose higher and higher and the fortifications sank from view the lighthouse stood alone in the high sea which made the gulf and bay one. In this structure two human souls watched the storm gods at work and waited for their time. There was no hope of escape. The steel bridge leading from the top of the jetty to the lighthouse had been twisted by the wind and carried away; the lifeboat whichhung from davits beneath the house had been snatched from its position and smashed against the iron supports, and the water carried off the splintered remnants.
Night came and the lamp in the tower, as though defying the hellish work of the raging elements, cast its mellow rays of light upon the scene of devastation and death which Night had just covered with its mantle. That human hands should dare to illuminate the appalling scene of tragedy must have enraged the murderous elements, and the storm batteries were turned on the tower. For an hour or more the attack continued with increasing vengeful power, and then—the light went out. Satisfied, perhaps, that the last defender of the reservation had been silenced the warring elements abandoned their fierce attack and entered the city to finish their destruction.
With the dawning of day an aged couple, who had faced many dangers in life’s stormy sea together, came out on the gallery of the lighthouse and, standing arm in arm, viewed the funeral procession in the bay. They had survived the night, and while they stood there high above the water in silent thanksgiving for their safe deliverance, they saw the ebbing tide carrying its dead to sea. Out through the jetties the long cortege moved swiftly, with the angel of death piloting the craft of human corpses.
Fort Point lighthouse is situated two miles from the city. It is a six-sided iron structure rising above the water to a height of about sixty feet. It stands about 300 feet south of the jetty, and the water up to the time of the storm was never over two feet in depth around the house. At times it was dry, but usually only a few inches of water played around the iron screw piles, which were screwed into the sand about eighteen feet, and upon which the iron superstructure is supported. The metal framework supporting the lighthouse proper and the light tower rises about thirty-five feet from the base.
Then comes the living apartments of the keeper, Colonel C. A. Anderson, and his wife. On top is the light tower, a six-sided glass house, with iron framework. A gallery encircles the living apartments, and another the light tower. About ten feet beneath the living apartments and about twenty-five feet above the base a wooden platform served the dual purpose of basement and back yard to the isolated habitation. On this platform two large tanks furnished fresh water for the household, a shed held the wood supply and another shed was used as a storehouse for a several months’ supply of kerosene oil for the light.
From the jetty a steel bridge led to the lighthouse, and from the bridge a stairway extended to the basement and living apartments. In the rear an iron ladder leading from the gallery of the keeper’s home communicated with the “back yard” and basement, and also with the boat house and a platform extending from the rear of the structure to the bridge in front.
When the wind had subsided and the sea receded the naked metal frame supporting the house was all that was left of the lower structure. Wrapped around the iron pillars and braces were steel railroad tracks, which the wind and sea had wrenched from the jetty railroad and twisted around the lighthouse supports. The bridge had fallen an easy victim to the storm, and the water supply, wood, oil, lifeboat and stairway were torn from their fastenings and carried to sea. The jetty, with its huge rocks, weighing tons, had suffered many a breach, and a large opening was in front of the lighthouse. Through this break the waters of the gulf and bay rushed like a mill race, and a new channel connecting the bay and gulf was cut in a night. The isolation of the lighthouse was most complete.
Colonel Anderson is seventy-three years of age and his wife some years his junior. No human mind can picture their experiences on that night of nights. Words are inadequate to convey an idea of the feelings of this devoted couple while the storm cried out its death warning and these two mortals prepared for the end which they were so sure was at hand. To attempt to leave the home would have been madness itself, but this thought was not for a moment entertained. The colonel would never desert his post, and his consort was happy to be near that they may both go to their death together.
Four rooms and a bath room comprised the home of the keeper, and the many friends of the family speak of the place as “Mamma Anderson’s doll house.” Not because the apartments are small, for they are comparatively good sized rooms, but because they were the cosiest and prettiest furnished rooms to be found, perhaps, on the whole island. Every nook and corner reflected the exquisite handiwork of the dear housewife who made this home an emporium of fancy needle work, embroidery, dainty laces and other rich and beautiful decorations and ornaments in which she justly took great pride.
The affectionate couple addressed each other in the endearing termsof “Mama” and “Papa,” and their home far beyond the city is truly “home, sweet home.”
Early in the afternoon of the storm Captain Haines and his brave crew from the life saving station manned the life boat and started to go to the lighthouse to bring the keeper and his wife to town. But even at that early hour no boat could live in the gale and raging sea that was threatening the destruction of the whole island. The wall of rock, called the jetty, would not permit any boat approaching within several hundred feet of the sharp-pointed line of stone extending five miles to sea. But, as Mrs. Anderson said in relating the incident to aNewsreporter who visited the stricken home two weeks after the storm: “It was a noble act for Captain Haines to attempt to rescue us, but it would have resulted in a useless risk, because Papa would not have left the lighthouse while it stood and I would never leave without him.”
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 openingin 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.
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 andhis 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.
Two weeks after the storm the situation had been somewhat improved, but the fresh water supply had been exhausted and when a News reporter visited the home Colonel Anderson and his wife were praying for rain that they might catch a supply of heaven’s dew in a tub which had been placed under the spout from the roof. The light house tender Arbutus had sent a man who repaired the damaged light tower, but the aged couple were left to their own resources to get water and food. The reporter, who had been able to reach the light house through the kindness of Assistant Engineer Wilcox of the United States engineering office, brought back to town another communication asking that food and water be sent out to the light house.
Colonel C. D. Anderson is quite a noted character and is well known as a man who figured conspicuously and gallantly in the civil war, and also in public office since the war. He is a native of South Carolina, a graduate of West Point and held a commission in the United States army before the civil war. He received his appointment as second lieutenant in the Fourth artillery from Texas on June 26, 1856, was made first lieutenant July 6, 1859, and on April 1, 1861, resigned his commission and came south to join the army of the confederacy. He was appointed to a captaincy and distinguished himself and rose rapidly to the rank of Colonel and was given command of the Twenty-first Alabama infantry.
He was in command of Fort Gaines and his gallant defense of that fort won the admiration of Admiral Farragut, who returned Colonel Anderson’s sword which was delivered to the admiral at the surrender of the fort. Colonel Anderson has the sword in his possession and prides it as a gift from his friends when he came south and joined the confederate army.The blade of the sword bears the following inscription which Admiral Farragut had engraved on the weapon before its return to its owner:
“Returned to Colonel C. D. Anderson by Admiral Farragut for his gallant defense of Fort Gaines, April 8, 1864.”
The sword was carried by Colonel Anderson in the battle of Shiloh and through many other battles and historical occurrences in the long struggle between the north and the south.
After the war the colonel, who is a civil engineer of note, held several prominent positions under the government in river and harbor engineering, and finally came to Texas where he has resided for many years. He engaged in railroad construction and built many miles of Texas roads. He served two terms as city engineer of Austin and then came to Galveston. The new custom house in this city stands as a monument to the engineering skill of the aged keeper of Fort Point lighthouse, whose life history reads like a romance. Mrs. Anderson comes from a family closely associated with the history of this country, and the department of justice building in Washington was her father’s home and the house where Colonel Anderson, then a gallant young army officer, claimed her as his bride.