by Jean Little
A tidal wave of sounds.
I don’t know how long we stayed there, frozen, not knowing what we were supposed to do. It felt like an hour but I suppose it was only minutes. Then I carried Davy out into the hall. Uncle Martin was there, hopping on one foot while he pulled on his trousers. I stared at him but he didn’t explain. He just ordered me to go and see if there was a telegraph message coming in. I turned to the door and reached for the handle.
“Don’t go out there, Abby!” Bird screamed, clutching at me. “You’ll be killed!”
I shifted Davy so I could hold him with one arm, then I pulled the big door open a crack. I stood staring out into the darkness. Except it wasn’t all dark. I peered out but what I saw made no sense. I felt as though I were sleepwalking and in a strange place I had never been.
My arms shook and I was afraid I would drop Davy, so I put him down on the floor. Then I just stood, waiting for someone to tell me what to do.
The air was filling with dust — gritty dust that smelled of smoke. I blinked hard, but I could not see anything clearly in the darkness.
Then Uncle Martin grabbed my shoulders and yanked me away from the door into the hall. His fingers had a grip like iron. I was already off balance so I toppled over backwards and landed half on top of Davy, sprawled on the floor.
It is still hard to even write this.
Inside me, a voice kept saying, “He was right.” And I knew “he” was Bird’s grandfather. The mountain had walked, just as he had said it would. And it had walked right over Frank.
May 1903
Friday morning, May 1, 1903
I’m watching to see that Davy naps, so I have a little time to write. I’ll start up where I broke off last night.
I crouched in the hall, choking partly with terror and partly because the air was thick with bits of dust. Everywhere people were coughing and fighting for breath. Davy wrapped his arms around my legs. He was screaming.
I got up and reached to get him. He wound his arms around my neck then and practically strangled me. He must have been terrified. In the few seconds I had looked out the door, he and I had both seen a world we did not know. Fires seemed to be springing up on the other side of town. Some turned out to be only lanterns, but others were real fires.
People were screaming and running every which way. There were cries that must have been made by injured animals. Mostly horses. There was constant rumbling and crashing such as I had never heard before. I know now that it was great chunks of Turtle Mountain breaking loose and coming down, carrying tons of mud and rocks with them. The weight of sliding earth was crushing everything that got in the road. Parts of Frank were being buried or swept away while I stared out into the night.
I heard somebody shriek, “It’s the end of the world!” I wondered if it might be true.
As the seconds passed, more and more voices joined in. Some called children’s names. A few were children themselves crying.
It wasn’t just the noise that was terrifying. Huge boulders came crashing past. Nothing was clear in the dark and yet the light shining out from the hotel windows showed flashes of things.
I began crying, which washed some of the grit out of my eyes. It is hard to know what to do when something so horrifying happens without warning.
The hotel’s front hallway was soon jammed with people, many in their nightclothes. None of them knew what to do either. More and more people were pushing and shouting questions. Bird was close to me. I could hear her crying. I was beginning to feel my breath squeezed out of me and I could hear Davy struggling to get some air when Aunt Susan, using her elbows and boots, barged through to us and hauled us out of the crush. Bird hung on to her too. We tramped on people’s feet but nobody was noticing.
Aunt Susan kept barging through whoever was in her way until we got to the foot of the stairs, where Mrs. Mutton was standing over a pail of water, handing out drinks to people who were about to faint. Mother was beside her, helping.
“Oh, Susan, you’re wonderful,” she said, doing her best to hug me and Davy. I leaned against her without speaking and did not even notice, at first, that I was squeezing Davy so hard that I was hurting him. When he whimpered, I loosened my grip and kissed him. Then I mopped my face on his nightshirt.
It was just then that Mother realized John had not come to tell us he was all right. Her face went white and she dropped the ladle. She said just one word, John, and suddenly I knew what she meant.
I can’t write any more.
Saturday, May 2, 1903
There is too much to write all at once. I keep needing to find a drink of water because the inside of my mouth feels raw. Water helps, but not for long.
Mother pushed out through the crowd, Uncle Martin leading the way. Bird ran down the hall and came back with my dress and boots.
“Here,” she said. “Get these on.” She sounded like a general.
I stripped off my torn nightgown and got dressed automatically, not caring that we were still out in the hall. Then I waited for Bird to tell me what to do next.
Later
John is wounded but safe, but there is so much to do. It is like living in an enormous jigsaw puzzle which has been dumped out of the box with no picture to tell you how to fit the bits back together. Except it is not just one jigsaw but a heap of them, all mixed up. And we are broken too. Many of us looked fine at first, but now we are finding out that parts of us are missing. I know that sounds crazy. But it is still true. Many people have hurts inside, hurts that will never heal.
I’ll go on with this later.
Saturday night
The Premier of the North-West Territories was here today, Frederick Haultain. He says we must be evacuated. We will be going tomorrow. He is afraid there might be another landslide.
I read over what I have written so far. It sounds choppy. Perhaps I can tell it properly if I go more slowly. When I start writing, though, I start to tremble and my hand grows unsteady. I need to be by myself sometimes and that is hard to do. Right now, for instance, I hear Olivia calling me. I will return to my writing later, but it feels as though there was a landslide in my notebook.
Bedtime, but I can’t sleep
Less than half of Frank is buried. It seems like more but it is just the southeastern edge, really. Mary Ruth is dead. Her whole family was killed in those two minutes. Jeremiah’s parents and his younger brothers died. Polly was at a friend’s house and she is still alive, but she was in a coma at first and, although she is conscious now, she does not speak yet. The doctor believes she will recover in time. I pray he is right.
Priscilla’s family died and so did Jessie’s. But the Ennis family are alive. Gladys, the baby, was found buried in mud and they thought she had died, but she is all right. Mrs. Ennis carried her body to the neighbours, thinking she was holding a corpse because Gladys was so still, but once they cleaned the mud off, they discovered she was just in shock. Mrs. Ennis says she cannot go on living in Frank though and they will be moving away.
So many are buried under tons of rock. I came home after we found John and Jeremiah. They are alive, but I can’t tell about our finding them right now. I am too tired and the page keeps getting streaked with my tears.
Sunday, May 3, 1903
I will tell first about what happened to John and Jeremiah. The two of them were together and they got trapped in the wreckage of the livery stable where Jeremiah had gone to check on one of the horses. They were coming out when the Slide struck, and the stable itself was demolished. They would have been killed along with the horses if it had not been for the way one beam fell. It trapped them, but it also saved them from being crushed by falling chunks of the mountain and great boulders that landed on either side of them. At first they were unconscious, but when John came to, he found he could not move and neither could Jeremiah. The rocks and wood piled around them also hid them from sight. John told us he cried out for help, but in all the noise, nobody heard him.
Bird and I were searchin
g for them as soon as Mother realized John hadn’t come back to the hotel. She and Uncle Martin ran toward the mine, Bird and I toward the stable. We would never have spotted them if it had not been for Davy, though.
It gives me the shivers to think how we almost left Davy behind. Everyone was too busy to mind him, so we just had to bring him along. While we were staring around helplessly at the huge boulders and smashed buildings, Davy quietly toddled off on his own. It wasn’t a safe place and Bird shouted to him to come back.
He didn’t, of course. The two of us went after him, making our way through the piles of broken boards, smashed and heaped against each other. It was terrible because of the dead horses. There were bones sticking out. Oh, I can’t describe it. I kept wanting to shut my eyes so I wouldn’t see, but I couldn’t, not if I wanted to find Davy or John.
Then, all at once, we did find Davy, hunkered down in a corner where the planks had formed a sort of rough cave. He was half hidden by the large beam and the boulders.
Then I heard John’s voice from somewhere near, begging Davy not to leave him and then asking, “Where’s Abby? Davy, where’s Abby?” over and over again.
I scrambled through to Davy and saw him stroking someone’s face. It was John, although he was hard to see in the shadows, and all covered with stone dust.
He and Jeremiah were both pinned down by that one huge beam. Only two big boulders that it rested on had saved them from being killed.
Dulcey had been with them, but I did not notice her body lying there until later. Thank goodness Davy did not see her.
I stayed with the boys while Bird went for help. John had gripped my hand and I could not leave him. Dr. Malcolmson’s office was full of people but Bird made him come, and on the way, collected Olivia.
When Olivia reached us, she went down on her knees in the dirt and kissed Jeremiah for all the world to see. She stayed with him while the boys were dug out and carried to the hospital and she has not left him yet.
It was not easy freeing the boys without increasing their injuries. John cried out, but luckily Jeremiah did not know what was happening until later. He had to have his left leg amputated. The bones were crushed and his leg could not be saved.
I can’t bear to think about this. John’s back was wounded. The fact that he was lying on the cuts helped a little to stop the blood from flowing. Otherwise he might have bled too much to recover. His collarbone was broken, but otherwise he will be all right when the fractures have had time to heal. Whenever I stop to think about it, I can’t help weeping. It isn’t just crying. Weeping comes from your heart.
The day after the Slide, I finally took in the truth about Mary Ruth’s family. They had all perished when their house was buried under the mountain. When I realized I would have died with them if Bird had not made me stay home, I threw up. Bird’s face paled but she managed not to vomit.
At last count, they say over seventy people have been killed. All seven of the row of small houses where the miners’ families lived got flattened by the Slide. The houses are now buried under tons of stone. Uncle Martin says they will not be able to get the bodies out.
I forgot to say that while we were looking for John, Mark showed up at the hotel, much to Aunt Susan’s relief. He had been at Nancy’s house and they had talked him into staying late. When he fell asleep on their couch, her mother said they should let him sleep till morning. Their place is at the far end of Frank from the hotel. At first Aunt Susan had made up her mind that Mark was buried under the Slide. When he walked in to the hotel, he looked stunned by all the wreckage he had seen. She probably looked stunned too, but with joy.
When I was in bed last night, I suddenly remembered Charlie, the horse John took treats to. I thought of him lying dead in the mine and I began to cry and could not stop. It is strange. I have heard such terrible things about people dying and have not fallen apart, and then just remembering Charlie broke my heart. I hope he died instantly and was not afraid or hurt.
We are going to be evacuated in the morning. They have brought boxcars for us to ride in, and we are to take whatever we will need in the next ten days or so with us. I will take this notebook.
Remember how I complained about spring cleaning? When we come back home, we are going to have to clean the whole hotel. I thought the spring cleaning we did was such a huge job. Cleaning up the mess left by the Slide will be one hundred times worse.
Yesterday I heard a woman say Frank will be a ghost town now. And it does feel that way sometimes, even though the Slide did not damage the whole town. Some of the people actually slept through it and did not know what had happened until daylight showed them. The landslide not only came down the mountain, it went right across the valley floor and a long way up the other side.
When I think of Mary Ruth and her family, I still begin to cry again. Mother gives us jobs to do. She thinks keeping busy helps. But inside each of us is an emptiness that won’t go away.
Monday, May 4, 1903
We have been evacuated. Frank really is a ghost town at the moment. We are staying in the Mounties’ barracks. It feels so strange. The authorities want to wait until they are sure there won’t be another landslide.
At least, here, I have a little more time to write. No hotel chores to do.
Davy and I are together in a space which is more like a closet than a room. We share a single bed, which is small, but no worse than the berth on the train. It wasn’t a bedroom, but they found there was enough room in it to put our cot and still shut the door. This way, if Davy grows noisy, nobody is disturbed. Davy is a bit disruptive. That is what Aunt Susan calls him. The rest of the family are in beds in the big room right outside the door. But I will be glad when we can move back into the hotel.
We are so lucky that the Slide missed us. We had broken windows, but no lasting damage except tons and tons of stone dust and dirt the four winds of Frank have spread around.
Today they brought John up here. He is still wrapped in bandages and must stay in bed. We have to change his dressings every day and he always asks for me to do them because I have a lighter touch. I know why this is. I learned to be gentle when I changed Davy or he would howl and kick. John does not struggle and we don’t talk much. But we understand each other.
Tuesday, May 5, 1903
Today John asked me if I realized we had played a part in history. He thinks that there might never have been such a huge disaster before in Canada. He heard some men discussing it when he was at Dr. Malcolmson’s and that is what they thought.
I suppose he is right. But aren’t ordinary days, when no mountains walk, also history? I believe history has peaceful days as well as disasters. It is just that nobody writes those days down.
Wednesday, May 6, 1903
Today when I was bandaging John’s back and shoulder, he told me he had confessed to Mother that he broke his promise and let me know about how I came into the family.
I asked him what she said. He shook his head and whispered, “Nothing. She looked at me and then she walked away without a word.” He said he felt lower than a worm.
“Forget it,” I told him.
When he stared up at me and began to talk about it again, I got up and walked away, just like Mother. I don’t want to think about it right now. Someday soon I will have to face it, I know, but I must get past the shock of the Slide first.
Bird says I will find the strength I need, but her family took her home soon after the Slide, so I don’t have her to bolster me up. I do miss her in this strange place.
Thursday, May 7, 1903
Mark told us such a story today. Mr. Mackenzie, one of the miners who survived, came to where a group of men were gathered and started talking in a really loud voice — he was nearly deafened by the mountain falling. Quite a few people had trouble hearing afterward.
Mr. Mackenzie was one of the seventeen miners trapped underground when the Slide happened. It was pitch black and the air was filled with stone dust.
Tons of rock
had sealed off the mine entrance. The men were trapped and could not find an opening to get out. Luckily they had their picks and chisels with them. They decided to try to dig out through the coal seam.
They got up on one another’s shoulders and began to chop at it with their picks. It got harder and harder to breathe. They tried, at first, to sing to keep their spirits up, but they could not risk running out of oxygen. Some gave up and slumped down, and some cried. Then Mr. Mackenzie said they should try once more, and all at once his pick broke through and light streamed in. Light and fresh air!
The miners cheered and hugged each other, even though the hole was clearly too small for them to squeeze through. The fresh air coming in gave them hope and strength. They finally cut through in another place.
“One minute we could not breathe and the next we were whooping with joy,” he said.
When I heard Mr. Mackenzie’s story, I shared his joy. Yet I could not forget all the others who did not get out but are buried under tons of stone. Just thinking about it makes me feel sick even now. It helps if I make myself think about the moment when Mr. Mackenzie’s pick broke through into daylight.
Bedtime
Davy is asleep but I am too restless, so I’ll write a little more.
Olivia never left Jeremiah’s side until they got the beam off and carried him out to freedom. When she came home, she was not a girl anymore. She was a woman. And her voice had changed. It was deeper and there were no giggles left in it. Her face, too, had become a woman’s. I can’t explain, but if I had Before and After pictures, you would be able to see the difference.
She was always pretty. Now she is beautiful.
Olivia stayed at Dr. Malcolmson’s until we were evacuated. They brought Jeremiah up here to the barracks, and she is never far from his bedside. He’s so brave! What with losing most of his family and worrying about Polly and wondering how he will manage with only one leg. I can’t see how he can bear the days but he actually jokes when he is conscious.
He is in a lot of pain, so he is given laudanum. John spends time with him whenever Olivia is helping with other patients.
