IV The Cruise of the “Bayern”
“It looks as if God had put His foot upon it!” said Hugh, the Yeoman. J., watching the pallid sunset from the deck of the “Bayern,” as she swung at anchor in the sickle-shaped harbor of Messina, turned from the sombre Sicilian mountains, rising tier above tier to the wet gray sky, and looked at what men called the “indispensable city” before God had set His foot upon it. The pile of smoking ruins, in some places tall as the wrecked buildings had originally been, in others crushed flat to the earth, looked indeed as if some mighty being had stamped his way with giant strides over the city; you could trace his footsteps in the shattered remnants of the great Sicilian seaport.
“Do you believe the earthquake was a judgment?” Hugh went on.
Gasperone, the Messinese, shook the rough mane of hair out of his eyes and parried the question with a “Chi lo sa?” Then he added: “It was foretold; I myself heard the prophecy, though at the time I laughed, with others who laugh no more. One of the hottest days of last summer a tall Nazarene, a hermit from the hills dressed in sackcloth, went up and down the city, followed by a boy—half naked like himself—ringing a great bell. There on the Marina they stopped at a cross street and the Nazarene cried out like one possessed:
“‘Be warned! Take heed and repent, ye of Messina! This year shall not end before your city is utterly destroyed!’”
“It was a wicked city,” said Hugh; “the Almighty smote this place. What else could ha’ done it? Our chart called for fifty fathom of water, we plumbed and plumbed—two hundred and fifty didn’t fetch it, the bottom had just dropped out. There’s Riggio ’crost the straits, hit the same way—a double stroke you may say. When you see a city smote like that, you may know it was a wicked city; ’twas the same with ‘Frisco—she got what she deserved. Down to Callao centuries ago ’twas the same. The people were fighting and killing each other, so the Almighty he shook down the town and out of the water a great high mountain riz right up in the air carrying a big ship as was lying in the harbor with it; I know folks as has seen it! They put an immense cross on the spot; the kings or presidents or whatever there is down there, swore that until that cross was pulled down they would never fight no more. Whenever they’re like to quarrel, some one points to that cross, and then they manage to settle the row without bloodshed!”
“Awe ri’,” said Gasperone.
“They say a vile piece of poetry was printed in an infidel paper, asking our Saviour to prove He could work miracles by sending a good earthquake—is that true?”
Gasperone spat over the side and nodded; then he too prophesied.
“There is more to come.” Gasperone shook a warning finger: “Listen! la Sicilia will go down, down, and finally be lost under the sea. Already it has begun; the mountains grow lower and lower; when I was a boy they were much higher than now. The Marina has sunk in some places a metre. You know the ancient stemma, the coat-of-arms of Sicily, has but three legs? We have lost one leg, there are but two left. When the next leg goes, it will be finished; the island will topple and sink beneath the sea. I have said it.” He made a gesture as if to wipe the ancient island of Trinacria from the face of the globe.
It was the third day of the cruise of the “Bayern;” all the relief party were on shore, except Wilfred Thompson and J., who had been detained on board by their work. J., who had come up from the hold to take a breath, listened half consciously to the talk of Gasperone and Hugh, the Yeoman. In his confused memories of that time this scrap of their conversation survives.
What has happened since the “Bayern” sailed from Civitavecchia? First one, then another of that strangely assorted ship’s company shall tell the story.
“Immediately on getting under way,” writes Captain Belknap, “the work of arranging our supplies began, so that we might know what, how much, and where to lay our hands on everything. Supplies purchased at Genoa were in the after hold, those from Rome forward; except for this separation everything was mixed together. The Rome purchases had been made by several persons acting independently; marks on many packages had been torn off or obliterated in the hurry of transportation, and the difficulty was increased by the absence of many invoices. Fortunately good weather favored us. The work continued in the fore hold until ten P.M. on Thursday.”
“Worked very hard till dinner getting cargo in order and opening up some stuff. After dinner worked on bills with Flint and Hale,” writes Wilfred Thompson in his diary for January 7th.
A letter from J., of the same date, gives a fuller account of the first day:
“We got straight to work the moment you were all clear of the ship. I didn’t even get a chance to take a snap-shot as we left the harbor of Civitavecchia; indeed, I didn’t even see the town, as I was helping Thompson with his invoices. After that we all went down in the hold and were hunting or moving things and getting them up on deck. Such confusion as there was in the hold, it is impossible to imagine! Everything simply dumped in a heap. I found a lot of things they wanted. We worked down there till dinner just like porters, and I am tired as a dog.”
Friday, January 8th, was a busy day for all on board. In the morning the weather was fine, at noon they passed Stromboli, the burning mountain that rises in a sharp cone from the Tyrrhene Sea. Mr. Thompson notes in his diary the beauty of the Calabrian coast. They passed near enough the shore to see the people of the ruined villages living in tents and shanties.
J.’s letter for that day says:
“After breakfast I went to find sterilized milk in the forward hold. Then I got to work with Hooper, who is a brick, as my partner, and between us we cleaned out that hold. Mr. Griscom came down and saw what we were doing, and tried to photograph us. He approved our efforts, which resulted in our finding many things at the bottom that were supposed to be missing. Such a jumble there never was seen! Everything had been hauled off the lighters and pitched into the holds, without any attempt at order; one and every kind of thing on top of the other and always the thing most needed at the bottom. When I tell you that a bunch of picks and spades had been dropped upon boxes of macaroni, you may get a slight idea of what would naturally happen. I spent the day as Hooper’s side companion—a bully worker, no shirk in him—and we got through about six this evening. It was a splendid day and Thompson, who worked above the water line, had a glimpse of Stromboli as we passed it about noon. At 4.45 we dropped anchor at Messina—what there is left of it, only a heap of ruins, though at first sight the houses didn’t seem to be so utterly destroyed. However, under the searchlights from the ships one could see how complete the ruin is—nothing but heaps of rubbish with walls sticking up above them. As soon as we came to anchor, the Captain of the Port came aboard. I stuck to the Commander like Sherlock Holmes and was his interpreter. He (the Italian port official) wanted to know the kind of things we had on board. Three American officers came aboard with Major Landis and Delmé Radcliffe, Mr. Cutting and Chanler, who seemed quite in his element.... Everyone says what splendid work he has been doing. A little later the Ambassador and the Commander (Belknap), Mr. Lupton, the American Vice Consul, Major Landis, and yours truly, went to see General Mazza on board the ‘Duca di Genova,’ a magnificent Italian liner. It was all very interesting. I went as interpreter. Delmé Radcliffe is quartered on board the staff ship, so he went with us too. He applied to the captain of one of the American ships in the harbor for a boat to take the remains of the English Consul’s wife to the cemetery tomorrow morning, but could not get one promised till three P.M., as the U. S. flagship only arrives in the morning. Mr. Griscom returns on her and brings you this letter. Delmé Radcliffe saw a man taken out alive at six o’clock this afternoon. A propos of boots, they seem to be the things most needed. I fear I have lost my pen in the hold. I am sorry Mr. Griscom is leaving, and Dodge too. D. has been working like a slave. Splendid! I forgot to say that the visit to the General in command was to place the ship with everything aboard at his disposal.”
Captain Belknap’s record for the same day, giving a fuller account of the visit to the “Duca di Genova,” ends with these words:
“General Mazza expressed his warm appreciation of the offer and the spirit that prompted it, and recommended that the ship proceed to Catania and Palermo, possibly also to Syracuse, as these places had received many sick, wounded and refugees, but so far no help in proportion to their needs. At Messina the situation was well in hand and supplies were already available, sufficient for all requirements.”
The next morning, Saturday, the U. S. S. “Connecticut,” flagship of the Atlantic Fleet, Admiral Sperry commanding, arrived at Messina with her tender, the “Yankton,” and the supply ship, “Culgoa.” A conference was held, and the plan of action, the policy of the American relief work in Sicily was doubtless then and there perfected; of this the men in the hold of course knew little or nothing. They only knew that Mr. Griscom, the leader of the expedition, was to leave them and were sorry that he should go.
Admiral Sperry landed two hundred and fifty men to excavate the American Consulate and recover the bodies of the Consul and his wife; the “Yankton” remained at Messina as a base of supplies; and the “Connecticut,” with the Ambassador on board, sailed for Naples Saturday afternoon and left the “Bayern” to coöperate with the supply ship, “Culgoa,” in relief work along the coast.
Several boatloads of supplies for the American Consulate were landed, and a large amount of food and clothes was given with a sum of money to the Archbishop of Messina. About the time the “Connecticut” sailed, a message was received by the Americans that at Reggio, the city on the Calabrian shore that faces Messina, their help would be gratefully received.
While all these official matters were going on, Wilfred Thompson was busy with his invoices and accounts, and J. with his stores in the hold. It was not until the afternoon of Saturday that they went on shore. Gasperone and Hugh, the Yeoman, went with them. In all J.’s notes and letters there is frequent mention of the strange Sicilian servant, Gasperone, who seems to have been half crazed by the earthquake, and of Hugh, the Yeoman, one of the enlisted men who had sailed on the great cruise round the world.
They landed in a pouring rain and made their way to the ruins of the American Consulate. From a shattered window flapped a yellow brocade curtain above a huge mass of stone and plaster, with gaunt beams sticking up against the leaden sky. A detachment of American sailors were working here in shifts day and night. A little farther on the party stopped, rooted to the earth by the sound of a weird lament, like the keening of the mourners at an Irish wake. They soon saw where the dreadful wailing came from. Seated on a pile of debris was an old woman, all huddled together, her head in her hands, her knees drawn up to her chin, swaying slowly backwards and forwards, the movement of her body keeping time to her moans; she might have been one of the ancient cave-dwellers, the attitude, the lament seemed a strange primitive expression of despair, old as the race.
“That is Sora Anna; they have found her son’s head and part of the body,” said Gasperone indifferently. “That girl is Elena, his fidanzata; they were to be married this month. They are waiting for the coffin.”
The girl, Elena, stood beside the old woman like a thing of stone. She was a beautiful creature; her face was almost as white as the lint with which her head was bandaged. Silent and dry-eyed, she looked like a statue of revolt. At her feet lay the ghastly fragments of her lover’s body. Two soldiers passed with picks on their shoulders; one of them asked the girl if he could help her. She paid no attention, but stood looking across the sea, stony and silent, while the mother wailed the death song for her son.
“Come,” said Gasperone, “it will be dark in an hour; the sun no sooner gets up than it goes to bed. Madonna! With all the rest, it is too much that the days should be so short. After dark, the wild dogs who come from the mountains to devour the dead are dangerous; in the day, they are more timid, the soldiers have shot so many.”
Gasperone led the way towards the cathedral square. On their way they passed the ruins of the Banca d’Italia, guarded by a strong force of soldiers.
“There is a great treasure here,” said Gasperone, “that must be guarded at any cost, you understand. These soldiers might—but it is always so; gold is worth more than flesh and blood!”
In one of the main streets Gasperone stopped beside a tragic group—a priest, an old woman and a dead man.
“Ah, behold!” he cried, “they have just found Padre Antonio’s twin brother. He and his mother were the only ones saved of a family of fourteen.”
The priest, haggard and wild looking, with his arm in a sling, began to read aloud a prayer. His mother stood beside him, swaying backwards and forwards. As the prayer ended, the mother joining in the benediction, In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritûs Sancti; a newspaper reporter fixed his camera on a tripod and photographed the pathetic group. The rain, that had stopped for a moment, now came down again in torrents and drenched them all to the skin.
“It was raining like mad most of the time,” J. writes, “I can well understand how your poor old woman, Rosina, kept harping on the rain. Anything more dismal it is hard to imagine. I have only been made uncomfortable by it; but there are hundreds of poor people camping out wherever there is a clear space big enough to run up a primitive shelter with boards, if they have them, or sails rigged on poles. I saw one ambitious family roofing roughly with tiles they had collected from the streets. They seemed to be the first to make the attempt, though the streets are literally strewn with tiles. In these poor shelters, and in the miserable little tents (some of them about half big enough for a man to crawl into and lie down, and which do not reach the ground by about a foot and a half) the water had flooded everything. The suffering from this cruel rain that these poor souls endure must be cruel beyond words.”
Mr. Thompson writes under the same date:
“Worked early getting off the goods the Vice Consul had asked for. The Ambassador and the rest of the party, except Elliott and myself, went on shore; weather very wet and stormy. Lunched early and went on shore with Elliott, passing the ‘Connecticut’ with the Ambassador on board. Went to temporary Consulate and met Deputy Vice-Consul, Mr. Cutting, and the acting English Consul. Then Elliott and I went out to see the town, wearing our red crosses. The sights were terrible; we realize now what an earthquake means. We walked along the Marina, the former chief water-front street. It has in places sunk beneath the water level, and is full of huge cracks. Here and there we passed a house but little damaged, but nearly all have the roofs fallen in; and, curious to say, at short intervals are houses that have been utterly and entirely smashed for no particular reason that one could see. The American and British Consulates are a case in point. Italian soldiers were digging and the party from the ‘Culgoa’ working all day under the driving rain, looking in vain for the bodies of the American Consul and his wife. Constantly saw soldiers with spades passing along. The city is under martial law and we saw many soldiers on guard. A few people living in wooden shanties or among the ruins with the rain soaking in upon them. Made our way inland to the cathedral which looks, as far as one can judge, as though the façade must have been fine. The ruins of the cathedral are well guarded by soldiers, on account of the great treasure buried there. The streets around the duomo are so ruined that we climbed over debris level with the second and third floors. The presence of the dead was all too obvious at every few yards. It will take two or three years to clear what is left of the city, and I should think it was a hopeless task and that Messina must be abandoned. Some of the remains, broken beds and chairs, tawdry candlesticks, torn dresses were very pathetic. One of the sentries stood on guard under a black silk lace-trimmed parasol. So fearfully wet we returned to the Consulate and found Mr. Griscom. About four P. M. we went down on the beach to wait for the boat. Grand and terrible storm over Calabrian coasts. Flashes of lightning lit up the shipping in the harbor and the dreary shore with its broken barrels and all kinds of rubbish. Fell in with an officer from the ‘Culgoa.’ Frightful rain and flashes of blinding lightning. When it was dark but for these, the launch from the ‘Bayern’ at last arrived with a boat in tow. The boat was cut loose, but the fool men did not know how to manage it and tried to beach it on the shelving shore over a huge iron grating. Every wave filled the boat and the men let her get broadside on and almost swamped her. To my relief Mr. Cutting was on board and jumped into the water over his knees. Cutting ordered the men to carry the bales and cases of stores ashore. The goods were full of water and some were in consequence almost too heavy to carry. Quite dark except for the lightning. I sent a man back to the Consulate for a lantern, which helped somewhat. Finally Cutting and the men went off and left me to guard the goods. When all but the heaviest were taken away I went to the Consulate, taking my officer. Found various men and we had hot coffee, which was welcome and I think saved me. My coat so heavy with water I could hardly move under the weight. Great difficulty in getting the German sailors (of the ‘Bayern’) to carry up the heavy cases to the Consulate. If Cutting had not spoken German we never could have done so. Finally got it done and started to walk about a mile to where the launch and boat were waiting for us. Weird effects! Lights of ships in the harbor over inky black water and sky. At last got launch and got to our ship. Tired out but felt better after dinner. Dreams full of earthquake and huge waves. The desolation of those hours in the drenching rain, waiting for the boat, will remain always in my mind!”
“January 10th: Left Messina about 7:30 A.M. in rain. Came over to Reggio and lay there all day. Commander Belknap heard from the Italian cruiser, ‘Napoli,’ that they wanted stores there, so we had a hard and busy day getting them out. Officers and boats came about three P.M. to fetch them. So rushed had hardly time to look at coast and Reggio, but it did not seem so badly damaged as one would expect from the newspaper accounts. The ‘Napoli’ is to distribute our stores to the small towns along the coast. Tired out and bruised by fall. Thick wet evening. At dark got all boats on board and got up anchor and went back to Messina, and lay there for the night about a mile off shore (there is no anchorage at Reggio). Woman said to have been taken out alive from debris at Messina but to have died later.”
J.’s letter for the same date says:
“I only got a squint at Reggio for a moment, just as we were leaving, when the rain let up a little and we had sent our last boatload ashore. I spent all the morning getting up the stuff from the hold and keeping track of it, and most of the afternoon. What did not go into the boats went into the forward hold. I hunted among hundreds of bales and things for two bales of tent canvas, which I found and got on deck. Chanler had been down there with a gang in the morning and arranged things in a way that made it possible. The last time I was down there it was in a terrible mess with everything together. You see the after holds are where I have been since the first day, and in my part I know where to find everything they ask for, though some things—the white beans for instance—I can’t get at, as there are two layers of sacks on top of ’em, which will have to be removed first. It is raining like mad most of the time; I never saw such rain as we had last night. I believe I have said so already; anything more dismal it is hard to imagine.”
In Captain Belknap’s report of this day he says:
“We were unable to see General Mazzitelli (in command at Reggio), as he was ill, but Captain Cagni, commanding the ‘Napoli,’ senior Italian naval officer present, received us in his stead. He showed much satisfaction in having our supplies to draw upon, especially for women and children’s clothing, oil stoves, tent canvas, cooking and table utensils, tools and nails. About four-fifths of the ‘Napoli’s’ crew had been sent away on relieving expeditions among the outlying small villages, and our supplies were in good time for use in a second expedition which was being prepared. We were cordially thanked for our supplies (about 25 tons), which we were able to transfer that afternoon. The ‘Bayern’ then returned to anchor overnight at Messina, there being no good berth at Reggio. The ‘Culgoa’ remained off Reggio to deliver provisions next day.”
Remember Captain Cagni! We shall hear of him again; a live man, with red blood in his veins!
Extract from Mr. Thompson’s diary.
“Monday, January 11th: Left Messina about six A.M. Splendid rainbow with moon above it. At 7:30 as we passed close to the coast, the lower slopes of Etna, covered with snow, visible. Unfortunately a cloud on top. Anchored off Catania at 10:30. Ugly town from the sea view, but Etna proud above it.”
Extract from J.’s letter of same date:
“We have been getting rid of a lot of stuff and I believe are likely to discharge the greater part of our cargo here, perhaps all, and take a fresh cargo of planks and building wood to some particular place where they are very much in need of it for shelter. This afternoon I helped Captain Belknap to receive the Prefetto and Sindaco of Catania, together with a committee of ladies and gentlemen, and to show them over the ship. The operating room, store room, and rooms where the nurses have the clothes, boots, hats, etc., which they put up in bundles as they are wanted. They inspected also the staterooms, turned into hospital wards. As soon as they were all gone I got the hatches off (it was six o’clock), went down into the hold and sent up sixteen bales of blankets and two cases of suits of clothes. As luck would have it, I had them all moved in the morning, right under the crane so that I was able to get them slung up and over the side into the boats on record time, but for all that it took an hour and three quarters and I didn’t come out of the hold till eight o’clock. I helped Thompson for about an hour after dinner, and that let me out for today. We started in with breakfast at 7:30; hatch off at 8:30, work till lunch at 12 o’clock; then getting ready for the reception—the receiving committee being Captain Belknap, Hooper (my side companion) and Gay—myself and Flint (a firstrate Harvard boy) as assistants to handle the crowd. I have done so many different things today that I have forgotten about half of them. Now I must go to bed as tomorrow is going to be a tremendous day.”
Catania is the second largest city in Sicily. Twenty-five thousand of the survivors had been sent to Catania from Messina and the smaller towns destroyed by the earthquake; the problem of supplying food, clothing and shelter for these poor people was no easy one for the Catanians to solve. Catania had not suffered from the earthquake and therefore was not under military law; the civil authorities were most grateful and appreciative of all the help the Americans offered in whatever shape. Admiral Gagliardi, who was in the harbor on board the battleship “Garibaldi,” seems to have been as cordial in his reception of the “Bayern” as the Sindaco. He immediately sent an officer to welcome the expedition and to offer any assistance Captain Belknap might require. The cordial relations that immediately sprang up between the Italian admiral and the commander of the American relief expedition can be felt even in Captain Belknap’s necessarily guarded record.
“We were immediately boarded by an officer from the battleship ‘Garibaldi,’” he says, “with the compliments of Rear Admiral Gagliardi. The Admiral offered us any assistance we might need; and when I made an official visit to him that afternoon, he inquired with much interest about all that could be learned of the situation at Messina and Reggio, and about the expedition. He very kindly made it well understood that we had only to ask to obtain any assistance at his disposal—an offer that I was glad to avail of, for men to assist with handling supplies, transmission of telegrams by wireless, and service of boats. The Admiral returned the visit next day, inspected the ship with evident interest, and expressed his approval of her organization and arrangements, particularly of the medical department.”
Catania was glad to see the Americans, and the Americans were glad to see Catania. Everything combined to make the visit a success. It is noted in the diary that the eleventh of January was “a splendid warm day and a starlight night.” The dreadful rain had held up for a little; they were received with open arms. The Sindaco letter of welcome, dated January 11th, rings true:—
“Municipality of Catania,
“January 11th, 1909.
“With pleasure I express to you, Gentlemen of the Committee and all of the Expedition of the American Red Cross, embarked on board the S. S. ‘Bayern,’ the heartiest thanks of the population of Catania, and of the refugees and wounded who have found here a shelter, for your generous offer of medicines, clothes, food, etc.
“The relief brought by you will be effective to lessen the sufferings of so many wretched people who have been deprived in a few moments of their relatives, of their beloved native town and of every possession.
“With esteemed consideration,
“The Mayor, S. Gonsoli.
“The Signor Reginald Rowan Belknap.”
Catania, the rival seaport of Messina, is a thriving city but the drain put upon the citizens, many of whom had suffered great loss of property through the earthquake, and the consequent paralysis to business all over Sicily, was more than they could meet. The relief work was in the hands of a Municipal Committee and a Ladies’ Committee; through these well organized committees the medicines, clothes, food and tools that our committee in Rome, and our Consul in Genoa, had worked so hard to collect, were distributed and put into immediate use. Mr. Hooper notes in his diary that “Mr. Gay and Mr. Cutting were sent on shore to investigate hospitals and the general situation.”
Tuesday, the 12th of January, was a busy day; the men in the holds worked from early morning till late night, getting out stores as they were wanted. Here at last was a demand for their wares. In desperate, stricken Messina General Mazza’s policy was to discourage the few survivors from remaining. The military authorities wished to get rid of them as quickly as possible, and they were shipped to all parts of Italy by steamer or train. The entry in Mr. Thompson’s diary for January 12th is briefer than usual, but the quality and color of it brings the whole scene vividly before us.
“January 12th: In Catania harbor all day unloading goods. A long hard day. Crowd of soldiers, sailors, representatives of various hospitals, priests, sisters of charity and others, all standing about, asking for ‘goods’ and getting in the way. Had a party of thirty men from Italian warship to help load the lighters. The hardest day of the expedition, nearly knocked out by night. A beautiful day, especially towards sunset. Admiral Gagliardi from the ‘Garibaldi’ came aboard with officers and the committee from Taormina arrived; Miss Claxton, one of the nurses, left us. German Consul and friends to dinner. Two quite dirty men kissed Gay on each cheek as a slight token of their gratitude.”
The committee from Taormina included Miss Mabel Hill, Fräulein Gasser, Mr. Harry Bowdoin, and Mr. Charles King Wood. They brought with them a letter from the Sindaco of Giardini, a fishing village on the coast, at the foot of the hill on which Taormina stands.
Captain Belknap’s report of the Taormina Committee’s visit says:
“Upon their representations of conditions in their district, work already done and still in hand, and cases of need still unrelieved, about twenty tons of clothing, sheets, blankets, provisions, medical dressings and miscellaneous articles were given into their care for shipment by rail, and 10,000 lire to be spent at the discretion of the committee in their work in these two places. We also sent with this shipment all clean linen remaining on board. The services of a nurse were also wanted at Taormina and Giardini, and Miss Claxton was sent with this party on their return there. A letter since then has been received from Miss Claxton, saying that she is engaged as a district or visiting nurse, and that all the supplies sent have proved very useful. A further sum of money was entrusted to Messrs. Bowdoin and Wood, both members of the American Red Cross, who undertook to arrange for the expenditure for the relief of the small villages outside Giardini and Taormina, between there and Messina.
“In response to an appeal from Acireale, Mr. Gay made a personal visit among the relief workers there, after which some clothing and other supplies and 5,000 lire were delivered to them. To the Little Sisters of the Poor 1,000 lire were given for their immediate assistance. A few bundles of clothing were sent by rail to Messina in care of Mr. Chanler in response to a wireless message from the ‘Yankton.’”
The Little Sisters of the Poor had suffered heavily at Messina. Their convent and the schools and hospital attached to it had been completely destroyed; many of the sisters had been killed or injured. The devotion and courage of these faithful nuns to the old people and the children under their care made a deep impression on all the company on board the “Bayern.”
“While lying in Catania,” Captain Belknap continues, “knowing that lumber was needed at Reggio, Mr. Flint was sent ashore Wednesday morning, to buy such quantity as we could get on board that day. Lighterage facilities were very scarce, as many steamers were in the harbor discharging; but by the persistent efforts of the German Vice-Consul, Mr. Jacob Peratoner, who very kindly devoted almost his entire day in our behalf, we succeeded in getting on board enough lumber to build 25 houses, 13 by 13 feet, complete with floors.”
Mr. Thompson’s diary for January 13th is of unusual interest. This journal is human and vital. It tells us just what one man saw, did, and understood; it reflects his mood; it has the heat of his life. It gives us a series of snap-shots of the good ship “Bayern” with the rosy eupeptic German Captain and the pale slender American Commander, the crew—rather a poor lot of sailors got together at a few hours’ notice—the stewards neat and literal, the cast-iron routine, the prescribed Italian doctor, and all the usual personnel of a North German Lloyd liner, commandeered for unusual service, with the supreme authority vested for the nonce in the American Commander, the quiet man with a will of iron, who never seems to rest, but by his example ceaselessly stimulates, vitalizes, every member of the ship’s company.
Mr. Thompson’s journal:
“January 13th: In Catania harbor unloading goods. Emptied after holds before lunch. Afternoon sent away goods for Taormina. Went ashore with Little Sisters of the Poor. Town not interesting. Came back at dusk. Elliott got his nose cut on shore in an automobile smash. A number of refugee children from Messina came on board to be carried to Genoa. They had lost every one belonging to them. Most of them were apparently happy except one older one. Eleven old men, ten old women, six Little Sisters of the Poor, and six children came on board. Busy serving out blankets till near midnight.”
These twenty-one old people were between eighty and one hundred years of age. The Sisters had assumed the care and future responsibility for these poor souls.
The stay at Catania was the most important phase of the “Bayern’s” cruise. Here the most significant work of the expedition was accomplished. The Americans were brought into close and cordial relation with the leaders of the relief work in Catania. They visited the refuges and, finding how well they were administered and how grievously in need of succor, they helped with money and all the remaining stores of the “Bayern.”
At Catania the American Committee for the first time was brought into direct touch with the Americans working at Taormina; here was another channel through which the stream of American help could flow directly from the source of supply to its destination, administered from first to last by Americans. The policy of the committee was, as far as possible, to employ Americans to disburse the American money and the supplies it had purchased. It was more satisfactory to the contributors, and was of great use to the earnest men and women who devoted themselves to the cause. Here the committee came in contact, not only with Mr. Bowdoin and Mr. Wood, those tireless workers from Taormina, but with Miss Katherine Bennett Davis, one of the most significant figures among all those who labored for Italy in her dark hour. They had expected to go to Syracuse, and Mr. Cutting went thither by rail in order to learn the existing conditions of the relief work. He reported that the work in Syracuse was admirably organized, under the leadership of Miss Davis. It was found best, however, not to take the ship to Syracuse, and Mr. Flint was sent there with an American sailor to guard him and the large sum of money he carried for Syracuse. The greater part was given to Miss Davis, the rest was divided between the Sindaco and the Marchesa de Rudini.
The refugees taken on board at Catania added to the interest of life on the “Bayern,” though the men in the hold had little time to notice them; still they added a certain color and picturesqueness to the daily routine. J. has memories of the little children dancing on the deck of the “Bayern,” romping in and out of the piles of goods as they came up from the hold; and strongest of all, of Sor Michaele, an old opera singer, from the almshouse at Messina, who sat all day long at the piano in the blue brocade saloon, playing and singing the operas of his youth.
In Catania the members of the “Bayern” expedition saw thousands of the superstiti. Here they learned what the effects of the earthquake had been upon the survivors.
“They had all been singed by death,” writes J. “They looked like death’s heads with the grin and the terror of the skull in their faces. One woman—I saw her once, I heard of her often—went from hospital to hospital, to the refuges, to all the places where there were profughi, asking the same question everywhere: ‘Have you here perchance a baby who has the habit of sucking the two first fingers of his left hand?’ That was the only clue she had to her lost child. I never could hear whether or not she found him. In one of the refuges I saw a woman who was said to be one of the richest people in Messina. She had lost every member of her family, she had nothing in the world, not a suit of clothes, not a crust, nothing but herself. Dr. Alessandrini, who is studying the nervous effects of the earthquake, says that most of the survivors dream continually of it. We saw one woman who had dreamed of it every night and each time awoke in a convulsion of fright. They were in great doubt if they could save her life. The children, even the quite grown ones of fourteen or fifteen, however, forgot it all immediately. It was like a bad dream to them.”
The automobile accident Thompson referred to, was telegraphed to Rome. At ten o’clock that night I read an exaggerated account of it in a newspaper. “The painter Elliott injured in an automobile accident,” was the heading in the Roman Tribuna. In his letter J. makes light of the accident.
“It was nothing but a collision, the jar of which drove my nose through the plate-glass window of the automobile. Sicily is a bad place for automobiles; the people won’t get out of the way. I heard one fellow say, ‘Am I a goat that I should skip out of the way of this thing?’ They are half Oriental; it would be undignified to run in order to get out of the way of a motor. Mr. Robert Winthrop has brought down a lot of tetanus antitoxin. Captain Belknap has divided it between Messina and Catania.”
Mr. Thompson’s journal:
“January 14th, Reggio di Calabria. Left Catania at four A.M. Went on deck at sunrise. Fine effect on rocky coast and Etna in the background with top covered in cloud. Reached Reggio about eight A.M., but could find no anchorage, so circled about all day. Rough weather. Sent away two life-boats of stores, but could not discharge cargo of lumber taken on at Catania to build shacks at Reggio. Stormy sea and sky with splendid sunset effects. Etna, still with cloud-covered top, against a gold sky and masses of purple cloud. Flint came on board in the evening and heard we were at once to sail for Palermo, to relieve refugees in care of U. S. Consul. Later toward midnight this plan was changed; we are to discharge our stores and lumber here, and start for Palermo Friday night. This day week we left Rome. It seems like a month ago. Reggio on nearer view a sad sight. Lay off Messina for night.
“January 15th: Left Messina about 6:30 and came over to Reggio. Stormy early, later cleared and day became splendid. Got well in and anchored near the shore, close to Italian cruiser ‘Napoli.’ The others went ashore and by ferry to Messina, but I had to see all stores brought up. Everything up by 11:30, and we put the lumber over in bundles to be towed ashore by boats and launch. Afternoon uneventful for me. Etna clear against the sky. Got all lumber over the side and had boatload of goods away, and left Reggio at seven P. M. for Messina. Accounts of condition of city from our people very sad. Persons said to have been taken alive from the ruins two days ago. Our people could hear the cries of a buried dog. The U. S. S. ‘Illinois’ had party of three hundred men digging for bodies at Consulate. At last succeeded in finding bodies of Consul and his wife. Five people taken out alive today at Messina. Two had food. Left Messina at 10:55 for Palermo.”
At Reggio the nurses, J., and another member of the expedition were having their lunch on the outskirts of the town close by the station. Near where they sat the railroad carriages, swept off the track and out to sea by the tidal wave, lay half submerged in the water, washing idly to and fro, one of the strangest sights of all that topsy-turvy world. The carriages were doubly lost, first to the railroad company for transporting passengers, second to the poor profughi who used the railroad carriages as houses. Happy the family who could find shelter in one of them from rain and cold!
As the party from the “Bayern” were finishing lunch, an orderly from Captain Cagni brought an invitation to come to headquarters and have some hot coffee. The invitation was accepted with glee, and they waited while the coffee was made by one of the soldiers. It was hot, it was black, but, alas, it was salt. The supply of fresh water was so meagre that they used sea water to wash the dishes, and the orderly who made the coffee made the mistake of taking salt water instead of fresh. There were a thousand apologies, and the hospitable host begged the guests to wait till a fresh pot of coffee was brewed, but time pressed, and they were due on board the “Bayern.” One of the Americans, adding brandy to his coffee, tried to drink it with painful results. They gave the remains of their luncheon to some children; every crumb of food was precious, even at Reggio where the suffering from hunger was never so great as at Messina. Captain Cagni saw to that! First he commandeered all the cattle in the neighborhood and served them out in rations as beef. When the cattle gave out, the donkeys were gathered in and served out as beef, mind you, always beef. Finally the dogs and cats were served out in the same way. Captain Cagni said it was beef, so beef it was.
Captain Belknap had received several messages from Mr. Bishop, the American Consul at Palermo, asking that the “Bayern” visit that place, where the crowd of profughi was so enormous that the Palermitans could not begin to feed and clothe them. It was decided to visit Palermo on the way from the Straits of Death back to Civitavecchia. The fifteenth of January was the last day of their stay in the ruined districts.
Mr. Thompson’s diary:
“January 16th: Gray morning early. Fine coast. Reached Palermo 9:30 and anchored outside breakwater. Some delay in getting permission from port authorities to land. Nurses and some of our party went ashore to buy clothing for the refugees. Then took drive about the city. Visited hurriedly royal palace and most interesting chapel with mosaics, one of the finest things of the kind I have ever seen. The cathedral inside quite uninteresting. Splendid view over the city and harbor and mountains from terrace of palace. Got back to lunch at two P.M. Visitors after lunch. Helped to make translation of flowery address to Captain. Warship ‘Garibaldi’ went to sea just before sunset, passing very close. We left at seven P.M. for Civitavecchia and Rome. At dinner our Captain made a speech, saying how well we had all worked under him. Other speeches followed; some of us stayed on deck till eleven P.M. At Palermo gave 30,000 francs and landed 1,200 mattresses and 1,300 kilos of food from ship stores.
“January 17th: At sea going to Civitavecchia. Fine day. Blue sea with white caps and more motion than any time since we left on this cruise. Took some snaps of old men and children, refugees, but they and all our Little Sisters of the Poor were seasick. Morning packed and handed over all my papers to Gay and wrote letters. After lunch busy till we landed, helping Flint and Elliott pay bills on ship. Reached Civitavecchia at about 3:30, but did not anchor for an hour. Finally got off in launch, towing two life-boats (the boats Belknap had commandeered before they left Civitavecchia; the third was lost by the clumsy sailors when they landed the goods at Messina the day of the dreadful storm). Ambassador and Mrs. Griscom and others waiting. After some delay we got off and reached Rome about eight. Have come back tired out but well. Very glad I went but glad to get back.”
Truly misery makes strange bedfellows! The misery of Messina had brought together an oddly assorted company of volunteers on board the “Bayern.” There was Mr. Gay, the Secretary of the Committee, a Fellow of Harvard College settled in Rome, who has devoted many years to the preparation of a History of the Italian Risorgimento; his splendid library at the Palazzo Orsini contains a remarkable collection of books and pamphlets on the subject. There was William Hooper of Boston, a man of affairs and a famous Harvard athlete, who had left the ease of his apartment opposite the Palazzo Margherita in Rome to act as treasurer to the expedition. There was Wilfred Thompson, the painter, who had left his studio and his little cat, to act as supercargo; Robert Hale, another painter, who in the list of assistants is set down as an assistant in the forward hold; the Avvocato Giordano, one of the most brilliant of the writers on the Tribuna. There was Weston Flint, the assistant treasurer, four Italian doctors, six nurses, and John Elliott (J.), who had left his studio to act “as interpreter and to assist in after holds and elsewhere.” These were the permanent members of the expedition. Now and then across this constellation of fixed stars flamed the meteor Chanler, a trail of glory behind him, and the indomitable Cutting, our Consul from Milan, who served in a thousand capacities beside inducing the German sailors to carry up the heavy cases to the temporary Consulate. They had some mishaps of course. The first day Mr. Gay fell down and broke a rib; the same day J. tumbled down an iron ladder into the hold and scraped the flesh off his lean shanks. Thompson, who had a cough, was drenched to the skin over and over again—that did not improve his health—and Cutting—alas and alas, that gallant soul who could never think of himself, had many a ducking besides the one Thompson describes, and endured endless discomforts at the “temporary Consulate” where he, Chanler and Major Landis lived during those first ghastly days. The only tie that bound together these men of varying tastes and habits, was the Red Cross each wore on his arm. In all the letters, reports, journals that tell the story of the “Bayern’s” cruise the most striking thing is the way these men speak of each other. Every man saw his comrades in a golden glow of enthusiasm; they were all good men and true in their fellows’ eyes!
As the “Bayern” steamed across the harbor of Civitavecchia J. looked into the blue brocade saloon. Sor Michaele, the old opera singer, sat at the white and gold piano, his stiff fingers surprisingly limbered up, striking the keys briskly, while his shrunken voice quavered out “Spirito Gentil,” the glorious aria from La Favorita that he had sung in his far off youth, now made familiar the world over by Caruso and the “Victor.” After he had struck the last chords, the old man’s head dropped on his breast and he began to sob.
“Coraggio!” cried J., “what is wrong with you? We’re almost there; your troubles are nearly over.”
“It is all finished,” sobbed the old man. “I have not been so happy for twenty years as I have been on board this ship. At the almshouse there is no piano; who knows if I shall ever see one again?”
Soon after the “Bayern’s” return, the Ambassador despatched a relief expedition under the leadership of Mr. Gay to the Calabrian mountain towns. Mr. Gay was accompanied by Captain Armando Mola of the Italian army, and Mr. W. Earl Dodge, who took with him his large automobile, thereby adding greatly to the effectiveness of the expedition. They had a wonderful trip, visiting forty villages, some of them almost inaccessible mountain hamlets. During the eleven days their trip lasted, they brought help to many a forlorn community that had heretofore received no outside assistance since the disaster. Mr. Gay has written an admirable report of the expedition, so full, so graphic, that it leaves nothing for me to say, save that I am thankful that this chapter of the romance of the American Relief Work has been told so well. The report should be read by all interested in knowing the full scope of the work. Mr. Gay’s letter to the Ambassador written from Palmi, gives a striking picture of what he saw and accomplished.
“Palmi, February 10th, 1909.
“American Ambassador,
“Rome—Palazzo del Drago.
“Tuesday, after an hour and a half in the automobile on very bad roads, and three hours on mules, we arrived in a snowstorm at S. Cristina, with nine mules loaded with clothing, and were received like the Messiah. We bought on the spot, at a low figure, 12,500 lire worth of standing timber, securing thus a triple benefit to the sufferers, namely, furnishing shelter to the homeless, saving the transport on the lumber which represents forty per cent. of the cost, and giving work to the unoccupied in cutting the wood. Today we are again visiting villages in the automobile. Tomorrow we shall start at daybreak in the automobile for Cittanova, Gerace, Melito, and Reggio. I am returning 5000 lire to the Committee, left over from the letter of credit on Palmi. We should like, if possible, a new letter of credit on Reggio for whatever amount the Committee thinks advisable.
“We should also like for General Tarditi, addressed as before, a freight car of miscellaneous supplies as follows: 400 litres of benzine to replace what we have borrowed here; 400 blankets; 200 panes of glass 60 centimetres square; 100 locks, with ordinary keys but all different; together with the following supplies for use in the hospital which will be opened within a week: 50 white varnished chairs, with 6 arm-chairs for the sick, to match; 50 wrappers, 50 pair of slippers, and 50 caps for the sick; 6 wall washstands of white earthen ware; 6 alcohol stoves which can be had from Bianchelli for about 35 lire each; 400 square metres of oil-cloth of a light color, to cover ceilings of the hospital wards; 200 square metres of the same of a dark color, to cover the wainscoting; 350 square metres of linoleum of a dark color for floors.
“Our telegraphic address tomorrow will be, Telegraph Office, Reggio.
“We shall telephone tonight. All well.
“Gay.”