The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1883-02-28


instances the second floor was submerged
and the families had taken refuge on the
third. Such was the case with Cashier Nor
ton, whose wife handed him his valise out of
the third-story window when he started to
the boat to accompany us to Evansville
Many of the stores had opened out upstairs,
and seemed anxious to catch the patronage
of the public, Swofford Brothers, opposite
the bank Building, had out this cheerful
sign: "Open to the world. Entrance back
door. Come up!" At the back door was
rugged up a ladder, so that their patrons could
make their ascent and descent from their
family boats. Of the many families driven
to the upper floors of their houses along this
street. all seemed disposed to make the best
of it. and were in good spirits as we called to
them passing. Turning west, at the bank
corner, we approached that portion of the
town where the greatest damage was
wrought. The scene was appalling
and beyond the power of portrayal. No
one not seeing 1t can in any de-
gree realize the fearful destruction
wrought. 1 have seen towns swept by streams
and submerged by rising rivers but this was
both combined, and it was if a cyclone
had first torn it to tatters and the wreck had
afterward been deluged by a food. 1t is safe
to say that no scene of more complete de-
struction was ever witnessed anywhere ex-
cept, perhaps, where IAN earthquake
smacked its mumbling lips DER some thick
no such fearful evidences of its ravages.
There is something inspiring in the hammered
flames that rush onto and consume city
Sense of fear is lost in admiration of the
grandeur of the scene that accompanies a
contlagration But the havoc wrought at
Shawneetown had nothing to mitigate its
horrors. The creeping water, silent as death
and as relentless, is more terrifying than the
encroaching flames.
MAKING WAY FOR THE WATER.
To the northward yonder, half a mile
away somewhere under the food, is the
north levee. built to save the town from
the destruction which now overwhelms
it, Last year the river went over it and en-
tered the town, and in 1867 it was the high
est ever known. But this flood, now on Is
way to the gulf, surpasses the deluge of 1867
by over five feet. The people were not with
out warning, however and all prepared for
siege by moving their goods to upper floors.
Those in the lower portions of the city aban-
doned their homes, not that they anticipated
all that was about to happen, but knowing
from experience that their houses would be
uncomfortable, if not actually untenantable,
while partially submerged, they took the
precaution of taking a few necessaries and
going elsewhere until the river should sub
side Inch by inch the water crept up the
levee until at last it began to run over. To
let it make mad rush from the north was
simply to let the entire town be swept away
by the banked-up tide To avoid this present
disaster the levee half mile to the south was
cut so that the water backed up to the
town and helped hold back the flood that
was beating AGAINST the levee on the north.
The town still hoped to escape with nothing
more serious than the usual inundation. But
the record was to be surpassed. From the
floors the rising tide crept up the walls to
midway the windows, and from there to the
ceilings. Nor did it stop there In the lower
portion of the town it passed the ceilings
and touched the ewes of one-story houses and
ran over the second floors of those higher
And then the work of destruction began. The
smaller houses began to float away, topping
over and bobbing up and down in the water
in the most fantastic manner They edged
against each other and seemed TO rub noses
as though animated and wondering what it
all meant and what would happen next
Then, as if actuated by some spirit of mis-
chief or malice, these old-time neishbors
urged on by the rushing river that flowed
through the once quiet streets, began
tearing each other, the weaker going down
with sullen crash and drifting away
in shapeless masses In the day time, before
the eyes of their owners, they toppled and
fell and in the dead of night they tumbled
and sank, and whirled and swan in direst
confusion, the terror-stricken inhabitants
nearing the uDrOdr anu not knowing what
structure would be next to follow. Resi-
dences covering entire squares were swept
away leaving nothing but the foundations
to tell where they stood And at last large
warehouse 40 by 100 feet in size, situated at
the upper levee, was lifted by the river and
slowly made its way down through the town,
tearing still other houses from their founda-
tions and crushing others already afoat, and
finally lodged on the lower leyee mile from
where it started.
HALF THE TOWN DESTROYED.
Here on the left is the Presbyterian church,
flooded ten feet deep, and with all the furni-
ture drifting about inside and utterly ruined.
Here the courthouse, the first story entirely
submerged, and the upper story crowded
by 100 victims of the food, living as
best they can in the wretchedest condition
imaginable some declaring that the mis-
cries endured in Libby Prison were more
toerable The courthouse yard is piled high
with wrecks of cottages. Some on their tip
toes as if about to take a dive; others upside
down, and the wreck and debris of every de-
scripton imaginable crammed in between
Here are houses with only their chimneys
visible above the surface, presumably brick
structures that will not float Dozens of cot
tages caught in the act of elopement with
their strange wooer, are anchored by ropes
and cables-some bolt upright, as though in
dignant at the implied charge; others reel
ing as ifin frenzy about to take header
down below The boat makes its Roadway
among them with the greatest caution, now
enabling the inmates to see household furni-
ture bowling and waving in the sunken win
dows, as if rejoicing in the jollity of a mer-
maid frolic. That roof spread out low over
the water like duck, is the Colored Method
list Church, and that one yonder, with
the bell just above the waves, is
the Colored Baptist Church, each with
all their contents irretrievably ruined
Looking south now scores and hundreds of
wrecks are in sight, and down at the levee
at one place are thirty houses recklessly
jammed together and crushed one upon an
other, like so many bodies on battlefield.
Our guide, counting from memory shuts his