drowned, and that thirty
thousand remained with no earthly possession of home, clothing, or food.
The few boats not swept away took them over to the mainland in
thousands, and calls went out for help. In this emergency Governor
Tillman called for the services of the Red Cross, and my note-book has
this passage:

"The next night, in a dark, cheerless September mist, I closed my door
behind me for ten months, and with three assistants went to the station
to meet Senator Butler."

At Columbia we were joined by Governor Tillman, and thus reinforced
proceeded to Beaufort. After due examination the work which had been
officially placed with us by the Governor was accepted October 1st, and
carried on until the following July.

The submerged lands were drained, three hundred miles of ditches made, a
million feet of lumber purchased and houses built, fields and gardens
planted with the best seed in the United States, and the work all done
by the people themselves. The thousands of boxes of clothing received
were distributed among them, and we left them in July, 1894, supplies of
vegetables for the city of Beaufort.

Free transportation for supplies continued till about March. No
provisions in kind were sent from any source after the first four weeks
of public excitement. After this all foodstuffs were purchased in
Charleston and distributed as rations. Men were compelled to work on the
building of their own homes in order to receive rations.

We found them an industrious, grateful class of people, far above the
ordinary grade usually met. They largely owned their little homes, and
appreciated instruction in the way of improving them. The tender memory
of the childlike confidence and obedience of this ebony-faced population
is something that time cannot efface from either us or them.

On the third day after our arrival at Beaufort four middle-aged colored
men came to the door of the room we had appropriated as an office, and
respectfully asked to see "Miss Clare." They were admitted, and I waited
to learn what request they would probably make of me. At length the
tallest and evidently the leader, said:

"Miss Clare, we knows you doesn't remember us. But we never fo'gits you.
We has all of us got somethin' to show you."

Slipping up a soiled, ragged shirtsleeve, he showed me an ugly scar
above the elbow, reaching to the shoulder. "Wagner?" I asked.

"Yes, Miss Clare, and you drissed it for me that night, when I crawled