At 3:35pm the ground started to shake, it is
reported that the actual event lasted only 30 or 40 seconds. The sound of a
city crashing in upon itself can only be imagined. I remember my
Grandmother telling me that she had never in her 90 years heard anything
like it. The main construction material at the time was brick, large
public buildings and private homes literally fell apart. Some older
wooden buildings survived the quake but not for long.
Within minutes the city
began to burn, hundreds of people, still alive but too injured to escape,
were now burning alive. The fire brigade headquarters was in ruins, not
that any fire service would have had the capability of putting a dent in
the conflagration which ensued. The entire heart of the city as it
existed then burned, from the sea to South Parade, from Orange St to
Mark Lane. Some reports say the fire burned overnight but my memory of
my Grandmother's tales was that the fire burned for days.
My Grandmother recounted
the story her entire life, she told it more often than she did stories
of two World Wars, her young widowhood and raising three children alone
in the 1920s, and all the other earthquakes, hurricanes and general
events that happen over a lifetime. I wish she were here now to tell it
yet again.
They lived in the heart
of the City, her father had returned to his office on King Street after
lunching at home, her mother was in the kitchen planning the evening
meal. Her little brothers were doing whatever little boys did before
video games. She and her sisters were dressing; in those days everyone
"dressed" in the afternoon. Suddenly the crystal chandelier started to
tinkle, which was odd, then everything started to shake and clatter.
There was a sound like a train coming closer and closer and then like a
thousand trains right upon them. Her cousin ran naked from the
bath, then turned back at the head of the stairs, teenagers were more
modest then, just seconds before the entire staircase collapsed.
Within minutes, their
beautiful home lay about them but they hardly noticed for Mother,
children and staff were all in one piece. Someone was sent to find
Father and met him on the way coming home. Once cuts and bruises were
attended to with alcohol and torn linen, Father arranged for the family
of ten to move into the coach house of a friend whose house was still
standing, more or less.
They gathered what they
could find in the rubble and proceeded like a rag-tag band to Mr B's
coach house. Members of staff who wanted to go home were given two
shillings each and room was made for those who wished to stay. On the
way to the coach house they saw flames in the distance, Kingston had
started to burn.
Father went off to see
what was happening for, of course, phones were down. News came that Aunt
Bertie and the baby had died. Later they heard that a cousin of Mother's had
also perished. They mourned the loss. They had lost all their possessions,
Mother's pride and joy, the crystal chandelier from France was in
splinters but what did that matter, all her children were safe and most
of her family had survived.
My Grandmother's story
never went past the day itself so I heard nothing about how long they
lived in the coach house or the difficulties of finding a new home in a
destroyed city. I don't know what they did for food and clothing or even
clean water. I imagine provisions must have come in from the country
parts, help would have come from abroad, but that would have been by ship
and taken days. They were well off but money is no use when there is
nothing to purchase. Mother owned a house in Gordon Town, maybe they
went there while Father stayed in Kingston to put back the pieces of his
business. I know they eventually salvaged some furniture for I have some
of it now. I know the fire did not reach their new lodgings for I would
have heard of that.
But in any event, they
survived, as did Kingston. Their lives, and the city, were rebuilt, to
grow and flourish. But that day has not been forgotten, least of all by
me who was not even born until almost fifty years after the event. And,
if I do forget, I have only to look in my china cabinet and I will see
the crystal boat with a crack running right through it and I will think of a
little girl asking "Grandma tell me about the earthquake!" and of
another little girl who lived through it.
Betty S.
Editor
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A
rather interesting occurrence took place at this
time. An internationally famous geologist, Vaughan
Cornish
D.Sc., F.R.G.S. and his wife were in
the middle of a world tour. On January 10th, the
Cornishes landed in Kingston. Four days later the
disaster happened. Both were injured and returned to
England to recuperate. However, within a few months
Dr Cornish returned to study the disaster. He
prepared several papers with his findings for the
Royal Geographical Society. Unfortunately his
reports are not available online. However, to the
left is the map he prepared after the event. |
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