The Strange Story of Harper's Ferry, with Legends of the Surrounding Country

In the meantime, the greatest consternation prevailed in the lower part of the town. Many families that had remained in their houses on Shenandoah street, expecting every moment the flood to attain its greatest height and then subside as suddenly as it had risen, finding that it increased with great rapidity and persistency, made efforts to escape about 7 o'clock, p.m. A family named Kane living between the Winchester and Potomac railroad and the Shenandoah river were rescued with great difficulty by passing a basket to them on a rope thrown across the abyss and transporting them, one by one, to dry land in this novel aerial carriage. Charles King, at one time proprietor of the Shenandoah House, a man of great physical strength and activity as well as courage, directed the operations of the rescuing party and, in several other instances, rendered valuable assistance in saving life and property. The Widow Furtney and family, living at the upper end of Shenandoah street, were rescued in the same manner as were the Kanes, and, in the latter case, the Reverend Daniel Ames, another citizen, exhibited a great deal of courage and tact.

Mr. William B. Fitzpatrick, supervisor of track on the Winchester and Potomac railroad, while attending to his duties some hours before, near Strasburg, Virginia, learned that the river was swelling to an unusual height and, fearing for the safety of his family at Harper's Ferry, he hastened home on his engine and had just crossed the bridges on the islands when they were swept away. As the engine proceeded along the trestling through Harper's Ferry, the track swayed in such a manner that it was with the utmost difficulty the engineer could direct his course and, just as they left the trestling and landed on terra firma at the market house, the uprights that supported the track above the solid ground gave way before the force of the waters, and at the same time, the houses from which the Kane and Furtney families had been saved, as well as others from which the inmates had fled or had been rescued, fell with a horrible crash, and so completely were they demolished that in some cases there was a doubt afterwards as to their exact site, the very foundations having disappeared. Mr. Fitzpatrick found it impossible to reach his family, but having climbed the hill on which the Catholic church is built and descended it on the other side to the water's edge, he stood opposite his house and called to his wife inquiring how it fared with her and their children. She replied that the house was giving way – that the walls were cracking and that she expected to be swept away at any moment, but at the same time she appeared to be more concerned for the safety of her aged and feeble mother, who was at the time lying sick in bed in the house, than for her own. Mr. Fitzpatrick, who was a man of the most acute sensibility, and who was thoroughly devoted to his family, became completely frantic, offering all that he possessed to any one who would venture to help him across the raging torrent to their aid. The utmost sympathy was felt for him, but nothing could be done to assist him in a rescue. The poor fellow sat all night on a rock opposite his house and, between the paroxysms of his grief, sent words of encouragement across to his dear ones. The behavior of Mrs. Fitzpatrick under the circumstances was very remarkable. She evidenced the most extraordinary coolness and courage and was heard to express her willingness to abide by the decrees of Providence, manifesting a composure in the face of death, which could arise only from a consciousness of her having lived a good life and from a well founded hope of happiness hereafter.

Interminable appeared that autumn night to the anxious watchers in the town and few, even of those who had nothing at stake, thought of sleep. At length the dawn appeared and, from marks left by the water it was seen that the river had fallen a few inches. Joyful news this was to all, but people of experience in such matters were far from being relieved from all anxiety, as it is well known that the turn of a flood is the most critical time for a building that has been exposed to the action of the current. As soon as it was clear daylight the attention of many people was directed to the house of Mr. Samuel Williams – the same gentleman that was taken prisoner by John Brown's men at the rifle factory – situated on the very bank of the river, near the ferry crossing to Loudoun, in which it was known that not only the Williams family but those of Messrs. John Greaves and James Anderson were imprisoned. The last two resided in small buildings near the house of Mrs. Williams and they and their families had barely time to escape to his more substantial residence, when their own houses were swept away. As soon as there was light enough the endangered people were seen crowding to the windows and gesticulating wildly, but their voices were lost in the roar of the rushing waters and the reason for their great excitement at this particular time was not fully understood until they were rescued in the afternoon, as will be narrated hereafter. At that moment nearly the whole side of the house fronting the river fell in, and very naturally caused the hapless prisoners to give up all hope. Of course, nothing could be done for them then, as the water had fallen but a few inches, and, as the other people in the town were not aware of the catastrophe to the river side of the house, there was not as much anxiety felt for them as their situation really demanded. Besides, two trees that grew near the end of the house, looking up stream, had gathered a vast pile of drift, and the sleepers and other timbers of the railroad that had been wrecked on the previous evening, still connected by the rails, had swung about and surrounded the house, collecting a great deal of miscellaneous rubbish which broke the force of the current and materially protected the building. Still great uneasiness was felt and hundreds of eyes eagerly watched the watermark, but for many hours there was but little fall and, indeed, it was 4 o'clock, p.m., on Saturday before there was any marked diminution in the volume of water.

About 10 o'clock, a.m., on Saturday, the crowd of spectators that covered the hill near Jefferson's Rock, heard a crash on Virginius Island and soon it was known that the noise was caused by the falling in of a portion of the building occupied by Mr. John Wernwag as a dwelling and a machine shop. Mr. Wernwag was the same that has been noticed in this book as a man of great mechanical genius, but very retiring habits. He resided alone in this house and, surrounded by strange tools and devices of his own planning and construction, and entirely devoted to those creatures of his brain and hand, he lived in a world of his own, voluntarily cut off from association with his kind. In a few minutes the sound was repeated, when the remainder of the building crumbled and fell into the tide. The roof floated down the stream, but at first nothing was seen of Mr. Wernwag himself. Many a loud and earnest prayer was sent to Heaven from the throng of spectators for the soul of the poor recluse and the hoarse murmur of many voices in supplication, mingled with hysterical screams from women and the more sensitive of the other sex, the wild rush of the river and all the awful surrounding presented a combination of horrors happily of rare occurrence. Two large trees grew on the river bank about a hundred yards below the island, and, as the roof floated down the stream, it fortunately dashed against one of them and was broken in two. Through the space made between the portions of the roof Wernwag's head was seen to emerge from the water and soon the brave old man had succeeded in climbing nimbly to one of the pieces. He had sunk under the roof and would have been suffocated in a few minutes had not the tree broken the incubus that was preventing him from making any exertion to save himself by swimming. As he secured his seat on the fragment he was seen to motion with his hand as if bidding adieu to his life-long friends. It is probable that he merely wiped his brow and put back his dripping hair, but the belief got abroad that he motioned a farewell and the excitement of the people was greatly intensified. Past the town he was hurried by the remorseless flood, until he was lost to sight amid the waves of "the Bull Ring," a rocky ledge that runs across the Potomac a little below the mouth of the Shenandoah. Over this barrier in time of high water, the waves of the united rivers plunge with a fury equalled only by the ocean tides bursting on an iron-bound coast, and the most sanguine of those who took heart on seeing Mr. Wernwag emerge from under the incubus and climb to the fragment of roof, now gave up all hope of him, but in an hour or two a report reached Harper's Ferry that he had been rescued at Berlin – now Brunswick – about six miles below. After a little more time the news was confirmed, qualified, however, by the intelligence that he was likely to die from the effects of the exposure. Shortly after, another rumor was spread that he had died, but, about 8 o'clock, p.m., the old hero made his appearance in the flesh, having been rescued, sure enough, and having revived from a fainting fit into which he had dropped on being landed from his perilous voyage. He had waited at Berlin for the passenger train due at Harper's Ferry at the above hour, and having taken passage on it he was restored to his anxious friends. He was received with the greatest enthusiasm and conveyed by an exultant crowd to the residence of his niece, Mrs. Julia Johnson. It was the seventy-sixth anniversary of Mr. Wernwag's birthday and, taking into account his age, as well as the circumstances of the adventure itself, it is one of the most extraordinary instances on record of providential preservation from what appeared to be inevitable destruction.

Soon after Mr. Wernwag's hasty passage down the river, a ludicrous mistake was near causing trouble between some of his friends. At that time there lived at Harper's Ferry two men of hasty tempers, but of generous impulses – one an Englishman and the other an Irishman. They were inseparable companions and proverbial for their attachment to one another. Both were great admirers of Mr. Wernwag and with moist eyes they both stood close together on the river bank, when their old friend was swept off to his death, as all supposed. Mr. Wernwag had an only son who was named Edward. The young man happened to be away from the place at the time, which was a great aggravation of the calamity supposed to have been consummated. The boy's acquaintances used to call him "Wernwag's Ed." and this familiar appellation was the cause of a misunderstanding, which was near ending in a fist-fight, between the friends referred to. About the time when the old man reached the "Bull Ring" the Englishman turned to his Irish friend and asked him where he thought Wernwag's Hed could be found – of course meaning the boy. As usual with his countrymen, he used the aspirate "H" before the vowel. The Irishman understanding the inquiry to refer to the poor old gentleman's cranium, and thinking that the question savored of untimely levity, replied that he supposed it would be found with the rest of the body, and he added some comments to show his opinion of his friend's heartlessness. The Briton feeling innocent of any wrong, and being a man of pluck, put in a sharp rejoinder which was met by another from the peppery Irishman. The quarrel was intensified by the laughter of the by-standers who took in the situation accurately. The interference of friends alone prevented a set-to and the belligerents were alienated from one another for many weeks after. The matter dropped when the mistake was explained and they became fully reconciled.

About 4 o'clock, p.m., on Saturday, Mr. Williams and his fellow prisoners were rescued by the same process that was used in saving the Kane and Furtney families. Great difficulty was experienced in passing to them a rope, as the distance was very great from the house of Mr. Matthew Quinn, but through the ingenuity of a Mr. Crosby, of Ashtabula county, Ohio, who was temporarily residing at the place, constructing agricultural machines, a rope was cast after many trials to Williams' house and the inmates were taken out, one by one, in a basket. Charles King, before mentioned, was very active on this occasion, as was also the Reverend Daniel Ames, who on the previous evening had distinguished himself in rescuing the Furtney family. Mr. Ames ventured across in the basket on its first trip to Williams' house, remained there encouraging the women and children and securing the passengers with ropes in their frail and unsteady carriage, and was the last to leave the tottering building. When he arrived back he was received with rounds of applause from the spectators, and the surrounding hills echoed with the cheers sent up for his brave and self-sacrificing man. Mr. Ames was a man of very mild and unassuming manners and the great courage manifested by him on this terrible occasion was a matter of surprise to many who regarded bluster as the only indication of bravery. Too much credit cannot be given to him or Mr. King for their conduct at this time. They were both New Englanders who came to reside at Harper's Ferry during the war, where their upright and courteous behavior had gained for them many friends long before this trying period, and where their heroic courage on this occasion covered them with glory. Mr. Ames, as before stated, is now dead, but Mr. King moved to New Haven, Connecticut, many years ago and his subsequent career is unknown to us.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick and family were rescued on Saturday about 9 o'clock, a.m., by some young men who floated to their house on pieces of drift and succeeded in bridging the gulf between the Fitzpatrick house and that of Mr. Matthew Quinn. They did so by stopping and securing in some way floating fragments of timber – enough to allow of walking from the one house to the other.

Early on Saturday morning a colored woman was found clinging to a tree near the site of her house on Shenandoah street. She hung by the hands to the tree, the water being too deep to allow her to touch bottom. Back and forward she swayed with the current that eddied round the ruins of her house, but she held on with a death grip. A youth named William Gallaher went in a skiff to her rescue and, with the utmost difficulty, succeeded in saving her life. At that time there was no injunction on the name of Gallaher to "let her go," and, if there had been ten thousand orders to that effect, Will was not the boy to obey any command that militated against humanity. He was one of the author's pupils in school, when the writer wielded the birch and this notice of the gallant boy is given with a great deal of pleasure by his old taskmaster. Mr. Gallaher died lately in Cumberland, Maryland. The woman told an almost incredible tale; that she had thus hung on all night; that her cabin had been washed away about 8 o'clock, p.m., and that her daughter had been drowned, but that she had caught the tree and had retained her hold till morning. It is probable that at first she got into the forks of the tree and there remained 'till within a short time of her discovery, when she fell into the water from exhaustion but, yet, retaining the instinct of self-preservation, had clutched the tree and held on with the grip of a drowning person until she was rescued.

Messrs. Child, McCreight and Hathaway, of the mill firm, as well as many others living on the island of Virginius, had not yet been heard from, when Mr. Williams and his companions were saved. These gentlemen and the Reverend Dr. Dutton of the Presbyterian congregation who, also, resided on that island, were among the very best and most respected citizens of the place. Their houses could be seen yet standing, but, as the island was entirely submerged, it was plain that each family was isolated and that no communication could easily be held from one to another in case of special emergency, and it was feared that some casualties might have occurred which, as in the case of the river front of Mr. Williams' house, could not be perceived from the shore. Each family had its own adventures and experiences to relate afterwards. All the houses on the island, except that occupied by Mr. Child, were badly injured and the lives of the inmates hung by a hair. The Reverend Dr. Dutton was severely wounded by a brick that fell on his head from a partition in his house which tumbled down suddenly while he was standing near it. He was stunned and for a while rendered entirely helpless and unconscious. He and his wife lived alone and, as there was no one to render her assistance, Mrs. Dutton, as soon as her husband had partially recovered, contrived to communicate with a neighbor who threw her a rope by means of which, strongly bound by her delicate hands around her husband, he was dragged through the water across to the neighbor's house, where his wound was dressed and his wants supplied. The venerable sufferer lay for a long time sick from the effects of his injuries and the excitement and exposure of the occasion. He recovered, however, and for some years after continued to serve his divine Master with his accustomed zeal and devotion. He with Messrs. Child, McCreight and Williams is now dead, and the survivors of their families are scattered far and wide. Soon after the flood Mr. Hathaway, connected with the firm of Child and McCreight and also a resident of the island, returned to his old home in Ohio.

About 7 o'clock on Saturday evening the water had subsided enough to allow communication by boat with the island of Virginius, and Harper's Ferry was left to present an indescribable appearance of ruin, desolation and filth. The very streets were in many places ploughed up, as it were, and chasms many feet in depth were made in the road bed. Every house on the south side of the street, from the market house to the Island of Virginius was either entirely destroyed or badly injured, except that of Mr. Matthew Quinn, which was saved by the accident of the falling of some heavily laden house-cars with the railroad trestling, into the street near it and their lodging against it, which broke and diverted the force of the current. Some seventy houses in all were either entirely demolished or rendered uninhabitable and, as before stated, in many instances, the very foundations were obliterated. All imaginable floating things were represented in the huge piles of debris heaped up at corners or wherever the torrent met a check. Trees nearly two feet in diameter were to be encountered frequently, lodged the streets and the vast amount of rails, planks and various kinds of timber gathered up for use, formed a very important item of fuel for the citizens during the severe winter that followed. Sadder than all, some forty-two lives were lost. Three families named Bateman, numbering over twenty souls, disappeared, with a large brick building at Shenandoah City – a suburb – into which they had fled from their own houses for greater protection. Of these families only one body was recovered for interment. The Batemans were humble, hard-working people, supposed to have in their veins the blood of the Indians that in former times possessed the land, tinctured with that of the African, but they were a good deal respected for their industry and unobtrusive manners. It has been related before that ten were lost on Overton's Island. Mrs. Margaret Carrol, widow of Eli Carroll, formerly proprietor of the Wager house – afterwards called Fouke's hotel – and, at one time owner of "Hannah" who saved the author's life at the Brown raid, was drowned at the boarding house of Mrs. Nancy Evans on Virginius Island. She was very old and feeble and, when the family were retreating from the house on Friday evening, they tried to induce her to accompany them, but in vain. Either not considering the flood dangerous or being from age and infirmities, apathetic about the result, she refused to leave the house and there was no time to be lost in arguing the case with her, as the other inmates had barely a few minutes in which to make their own escape. Soon after the house was swept away and with it, of course, the hapless old lady. Strangely enough, her body was found some weeks afterward about thirty miles down the Potomac, near the mouth of Seneca creek, and within a few paces of the residence of one of her relations. The corpse was recognized by means of a ring with Mrs. Carrol's name engraved on it which was on one of the fingers, and the remains were forwarded to Harper's Ferry for interment. Several persons were drowned whose names cannot be gathered now, and, indeed, it is probable that the loss of life was much more extensive than is generally supposed, as it is known that the upper islands are always occupied by stragglers and obscure people, of whom little note is taken in the neighborhood, and the chances are that many of such temporary residents were lost of whom no account was given and about whom no questions were asked.

A remarkable occurrence took place in connection with this flood which, though, of course, accidental, was a very strange coincidence. The Reverend N. C. Brackett, county superintendent of free schools, had convened the teachers' association and had secured the services of Professor Kidd, a well known itinerant lecturer on elocution, to give instruction to them on this important branch of education. On Friday evening, before any apprehension was felt from the river, he was holding forth in the public school house, on Shenandoah street. He remarked on the faulty construction of school houses in general through that region as being a serious drawback on the comfort and advancement of pupils, and he turned the attention of his audience to the building in which they were, as being about the worst-planned of any he had seen. Warming with his subject, he expressed a wish that some convulsion of the elements would take place for the special purpose of destroying this house, so that another might be erected on a better plan. This wish, thoughtlessly or playfully uttered, was, strangely enough, gratified that very night. The river rose beyond all usual bounds and before 9 o'clock, not a vestige of the obnoxious school house remained. Professor Kidd, with his own eyes, witnessed the consummation of his desires, but whether Heaven was moved by the Professor's eloquence or the thing would have happened anyway, is a question which the writer will not undertake to decide.

Another strange occurrence used to be related by the late Mr. Edmond H. Chambers, one of the oldest and most respectable citizens of the place. Mr. Chambers was a class leader in the Methodist Episcopal church, and Mrs. Overton, whose tragic death in the flood has been narrated, was a member of his class. On the Sunday before the awful visitation, she attended the class meeting and seemed to be excited to a high degree during the exercises. Her unusual demeanor was noticed by all present, and it could not be accounted for, as she was not generally very demonstrative in her devotions. She went 'round among the members of the class and shook hands with them all, bidding them farewell and saying that, in all probability, she would never again meet them on this side of the grave. Her words were prophetic for, sure enough, on Friday night of the same week, she passed "the bourne from which no traveler returns." Who can tell what message she may have received from that mysterious world towards which we are all traveling – that her weary pilgrimage on earth was nearing its end and that in a few days she would rejoin the loved ones who had gone before her. It is useless for the most practical and so called hard-headed of the world to deny that many such presentments are felt, and that events often prove their correctness. When people of nervous and susceptible natures take up the belief that they are doomed to a speedy demise, it may be said with plausibility, that their imaginations contribute to bring on some disease to fulfill the prophecy, but when the catastrophe occurs through accident or any means that did not or could not before affect the mental or bodily health of the subject, we are bound to confess the probability of some communication between the incarnate spirit and one of clearer vision and superior knowledge. But, patience! We will know more about it some day, perhaps.

On Sunday, October 2nd, a meeting of the citizens was convened to adopt measures for the relief of the sufferers and a subscription list was immediately opened. All the people of the place who could afford to do so, subscribed to the fund and, soon, meetings were held at Charlestown and other places and large contributions of money, food, raiment and fuel poured in from the neighboring country and many cities of other states, so that in a few days provision was made for the support of the destitute sufferers during the coming winter, and a committee composed of the most prominent of the citizens regulated the distribution of the funds, &c., subscribed by the charitable all over the country. Those whose houses were destroyed or badly injured were kindly entertained by their more fortunate neighbors until arrangements could be made for rebuilding or repairing their own homes, and the sympathy evinced toward those luckless people by their fellow citizens and kind hearted people in other places was creditable to our common humanity. Had not the flood been confined to the Shenandoah and, had the Potomac risen like its tributary, it is possible to imagine the amount of damage that would have been done. The rivers, it is true, would have checked one another and lessened each other's current, but the water would have covered the whole peninsula and that part at least of the beautiful Shenandoah Valley would have been for a time what antiquarians and geologists assert it formerly was – the bed of a considerable sea.