Twenty-Six, Storm

Twenty-Six

Storm

29 May 1824

After writing in this journal yesterday afternoon, we witnessed a storm the likes that we have not seen in Alabama since coming here from South Carolina.

The day started out as pretty as could be, if but a might bit warm.  About two o'clock in the afternoon, just after I finished writing, the skies clouded over and a storm threatened.  We have had many storms in the past few years, and this did not seem like it was going to be different.

There is a certain smell, and a certain colour in the sky, when you know that you best take heed.  The animals, too, can sense it.  The air was heavy and oppressive, and we pressed cloths damped in water to our faces to attempt to keep cooler.   I went outside to bring in some clothes that were drying from our weekly washing, as I believed that there would soon be rain.  The skies turned purple and green, and I knew to hasten to get back inside.  The winds picked up, and the horses in the barn were making a racket.  Father's dog, Sam, ran down the hill toward his master's cabin.  I remember thinking, Father, be safe, for as angry as I can be sometimes at him, I do not truly wish him harm.

We closed the shutters on all of the windows, even though this would make the air even hotter inside, for we did not want to chance that something could fly in or out.  All four hearths stirred up coals and dust as the wind came down the chimneys.  Then, for a moment, all was eerily still.

Suddenly, the winds picked up again, and the rain came down in torrents.   A tree limb snapped, and came down on the east side of the house, just missing it, with us being on the other side of the wall in the next room.   Rain turned to hail, and the temperature dropped to where it was almost chilly.  I began to be frightened; Mother and my sisters already were.

The slaves were running in from the fields, and my brother Thomas could be heard shouting at them to seek shelter in the barn as it is mostly stone.  As the winds grew fiercer, we decided to crouch under the table, it being the sturdiest furniture in the house.   We were beginning to wish we had gone out to the space below the house, but now it was too late.

Another tree limb snapped, taking down with it the shutters and the parlour window on the south side.  We were in the other room, but could hear the glass shatter.  The front door, which was not bolted, flew open and we could see a wagon overturn. 

Then, boom!

It was all over in a few minutes, it seemed, and we went out to inspect the damage outside.  Then we saw it.  The roof on Father's cabin was gone, having flown in part over to the barn, hitting it.  I ran down the hill to the cabin, very much afraid of what I would see.  Father was there, bent over Susie who was lying still on the cabin floor.  Father looked injured, too, but would not leave Susie to tend to his wounds.

I shouted for Thomas who had gone to barn, and he came running.  He checked on Susie and said that she was still alive, but had been hit in the head by something.  The two of us pried Father away from Susie to care for him.  He was coughing, and holding his side, and Thomas had him limp over to the corner onto a wet and littered bed, but it was intact.  He laid Susie  on the part of the floor that was mostly cleared of debris. She still was not moving.

Father called for Susie, asking if she were all right.  Just after this, Susie stirred, her eyes barely open, and instantly we all could feel like we could catch our breath, including Father.  Susie then opened her eyes more and asked what was we all starin' at, and she grinned weakly, but the twinkle was back in her eyes.  She rubbed the top of her head, and found that she was bleeding.  I pressed the rag that I found in the corner gently to wipe away the blood.  Thank goodness the wound was not deep.

Father resumed coughing, and with each cough he moaned.  I think he cracked a rib. 

There is no doctor around here in the Falls; the nearest one is in Vernon, some miles away.  We figure that doctor will be very busy with this storm, so we depended upon Susie, who was sitting up now, to know what to do, as she always seemed to know what to do when someone is ill or injured.

Susie unsteadily came to father, gently touching him all about his chest and back, and then told us that she did not think he had broken anything, but that he would have some pain, especially with the coughing.  She then asked us if we had some whisky, to which we answered no.  Susie called out to Jeremiah had come from the barn to check on everyone, asking him if he had some alcohol stashed somewhere.  Jeremiah nodded and ran toward his cabin, returning in a bit with a jug.  Susie removed the cork, smelled it, and said, this will do.

Susie told Father to drink.  But Father said, no Susie.  I cannot.  Susie looked exasperated, but then reconsidered.  Susie then turned toward the house, which she could see because half the wall was gone, too, and without a word, marched up to our house.  Seeing my sisters, who looked terrified, she said, "Patsy, boil some watuh for tea.  Nancy, git a teacup.  Fathuh need to drink  somethin wahm for his cough.  He be hurtin' in his ribs."  

In all these fifteen years since their big fight, Mother had not allowed Susie in the house.  But now,  Mother did not say a word.  She watched from a few feet away from Susie, looking from her to Father and back again.  Her eyes seemed to soften, and she beckoned for Tom to get a blanket to lay on the floor for father.  Nan and Patsy, who had long ago forgiven father, tried to make him comfortable, and when the tea was ready, Nan poured it for him and helped him drink.

The decision was made for the girls to go to Uncles.  I was to sleep with Mother, and Father was given my bed.  Thomas had Patsy's bed in the same room.  Susie went to Jeremiah's cabin.  The world changed for us yesterday.