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AN ACCOUNT OF THE EARTHQUAKE
IN CHARLESTON IN 1886
The following transcript of an account by Elia W. Hard (Mrs. Charles F.
Hard) was contributed by Ken Peters. It was among the Hard family papers
included in the manuscript collections of the South Carolinian Library
at the University of South Carolina in Columbia.
The 31st day of August, 1886, had been one of intense heat, so hot that
the air fairly quivered with the heat. I took two baths during the day,
but the water seemed to give no relief. Nell and Edith were fretful and
apparently limp from the constant perspiration which poured down their
little bodies. About six o'clock I bought some ice cream from a wagon for
them, it melted before they could eat it. though they seemed to fairly
gulp it down.
I put them to bed just at dusk thinking they might be more comfortable
in their little night gowns. About this time, or a little earlier, I heard
sharp reports and thought it queer anybody should be shooting birds at
that time of year. The sound came from the marshes along Ashley River.
Soon after this a most horrible odor came into the house, so unpleasant
that, hot as it was, we closed the doors and windows. We could not imagine
its source. Afterwards Alex McIver said that on the Island boat the reports
had been heard and the bad smell noticed. A gentleman had remarked, "If
I was in South America, I would say we were going to have a shake, it seems
as if some force is disturbing the gases in the marsh."
Just as we finished tea I cleared away the table and went into my room,
feeling I could not stand my clothing a minute longer. It was then a little
after nine o'clock. I put the lamp on the hall table so as to get rid of
that much heat, and had just loosened all of my clothing when the terrible
roar came.
This was on Monday night; on the Friday morning previous as I lay awake
in bed, I heard a queer rumbling noise. I listened expecting it to stop,
when to my surprise it apparently struck a corner of the house and rolled
over and under it. It was very singular, but instantly the thought came
to me, "earthquake". I felt that in my earliest childhood I had had just
such a sensation. (Some years after I discovered that there had been a
slight shake in Charleston when I was between four and five years old.)
The shock was very slight and I did not disturb Mr. Hard. When we were
dressing, I told him of my experience, and to my surprise he did not laugh
at me, but said several shocks had been felt in Summerville and he had
purposely kept me from seeing the papers.
So when that fearful sound came, a sound like the bellowing of all wild
animals, the grinding of immense rocks, and human cries of agony-I knew
what it was. Buttoning my dress with one hand, I ran into the parlor, just
across the hall, where Percy was sleeping on a cot for the sake of coolness,
the parlor having six large windows. He was on a visit to me and
a very timid boy. I met him rushing out the door and grasped him with one
arm as the great shock came. Mr. Hard was reading in the dining room but
came running to me. For several seconds the three of us reeled and
were thrown against the walls. It seemed hours. There were three lamps
in the hall, and all were thrown to the floor, the oil igniting and running
over the floor. Without a word we each tried to put out the fire. I gathering
all Mr. Hard's clothes from the closet, and he getting water from the hall
spigot. The second shock came while we were so occupied and we clung to
the stair banister to keep from being thrown to the floor. Strange
to say, up to this time, Nell and Edith had been asleep. Now they called,
and I went to them taking them both in my arms, sitting on the side of
the bed. Nell said, "Mother, I can't sleep with all that big noise, won't
you sing to me?" I thought the Day of Judgment had come, but I wanted to
keep fear from them, so God gave me strength, and I sang, "Hush, my dear,
Lie still in slumber" to them-the hardest singing I ever did. We could
hear a neighbor calling to us and asking if we were dead or alive, and
Mr. Hard thought we had better go out.
It had turned very cold with the first shock and all the blankets were
packed in the attic, two stories above. But Mr. Hard went for them and
we all left the house. All the time 1 prayed God that He would be with
us, and that we could all go together. Mr. Hard wrapped up Nell and took
her and I started out with Edith, Percy running on ahead, but he was called
back and carried Edith into the street. There we found most of the neighbors,
and we stood together in breathless awe. The third shock then came. After
this Mr. Hard went into the house and brought out a small cot and Percy's
clothes, he only having on a little night shirt. We put the children on
the cot and I sat down by them. The air was so filled with mortar from
fallen buildings that I had constantly to keep brushing it from their faces,
and the next morning the blankets were covered. At the time many persons
thought this was sulphur, as it certainly smelled like it. The terrible
agony of that night can never be described or forgotten, waiting momentarily
for the earth to open, or a tidal wave to come. But in our group all were
calm and quiet except one poor man whose nervous system seemed a perfect
wreck. In some camps the people were in a pitiful state, in others there
was constant card playing and drinking-men and women drinking to excess
who had never done so before. But we were all thankful that among us was
dear old Dr. Robertson, eighty years old, who had prayers every night and
morning in which everyone joined. That was the most absolutely still night
possible. All animals, birds and insects seemingly frightened into silence-not
even a rooster crowed. Our three dogs crouched beside us terror stricken.
A friend was driving from the Union depot when the first shock came, his
horse stopped short trembling with fear. He got out of the buggy and stroked
his ear for some minutes, when the second shock came the animal dropped
dead.
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