On the night of April 23d the earth tremor returned
with a slight shock, only sufficient to cause a temporary
alarm. On the afternoon of the 25th came another
and severer one, strong enough to shake down some tottering
walls and add another to the list of victims.
This was a woman named Annie Whitaker, who was at
work in the kitchen of her home at the time.
The chimney, which had been weakened by the great shock,
now fell, crashing through the roof and fracturing
her skull. Thus the earth powers claimed a final
human sacrifice before their dread visitation ended.
The Demon of Fire Invades the Stricken City.
The terrors of the earthquake are momentary.
One fierce, levelling shock and usually all is over.
The torment within the earth has passed on and the
awakened forces of the earth’s crust sink into
rest again, after having shaken the surface for many
leagues. Rarely does the dread agent of ruin
leave behind it such a terrible follower to complete
its work as was the case in the doomed city of San
Francisco. All seemed to lead towards such a
carnival of ruin as the earth has rarely seen.
The demon of fire followed close upon the heels of
the unseen fiend of the earth’s hidden caverns,
and ran red-handed through the metropolis of the West,
kindling a thousand unhurt buildings, while the horror-stricken
people stood aghast in terror, as helpless to combat
this new enemy as they were to check the ravages of
the earthquake itself.
Why not quench the fire at its start with water?
Alas! there was no water, and this expedient was a
hopeless one. The iron mains which carried the
precious fluid under the city streets were broken or
injured so that no quenching streams were to be had.
In some cases the engine houses had been so damaged
that the fire-fighting apparatus could not be taken
out, though even if it had it would have been useless.
A sweeping conflagration and not an ounce of water
to throw upon it! The situation of the people
was a maddening one. They were forced helplessly
and hopelessly to gaze upon the destruction of their
all, and it is no marvel if many of them grew frantic
and lost their reason at the sight. Thousands
gathered and looked on in blank and pitiful misery,
their strong hands, their iron wills of no avail,
while the red-lipped fire devoured the hopes of their
lives.
In a dozen, a hundred, places the flames shot up redly.
Huge, strong buildings which the earthquake had spared
fell an unresisting prey to the flames. The great,
iron-bound, towering Spreckles building, a steeple-like
structure, of eighteen stories in height, the tallest
skyscraper in the city, had resisted the earthquake
and remained proudly erect. But now the flames
gathered round and assailed it. From both sides
came their attack. A broad district near by, containing
many large hotels and lodging houses, was being fiercely
burnt out, and soon the windows of the lofty building
cracked and splintered, the flames shot triumphantly
within, and almost in an instant the vast interior
was a seething furnace, the wild flames rushing and
leaping within until only the blackened walls remained.
