WARNING: Please be advised that some of the photos shown on this page are quite morbid, depicting death and destruction as seen by photographers within a few days, weeks and months following the worst natural diaster in US history.

Every year on September 8, around the world, members of the Congregation of the Sisters of Charity of the Incarnate Word pause to sing an old French hymn, "Queen of the Waves." This is done in honor of the ten brave Sisters and ninety orphans of the Saint Mary's Orphans Asylum who lost their lives during the worst natural disaster the US has ever experienced. It occurred in Galveston, Texas in the year 1900.

The Sisters were originally called to Galveston by Catholic bishop Claude M. Dubuis in 1866 to help care for a large number of hospitalized persons. Among their duties, was the care of children who had been orphaned by the yellow fever epidemic of that time. Originally, the orphanage was operated in the hospital itself, but in time it was moved to a new location three miles west of the hospital. At this location, it would be removed from the city and the easy spread of contagious illnesses, plus the new location was near the beach.

Mariners had been reporting encounters with a storm in the Gulf of Mexico, which had crossed Cuba, narrowly missing the southern tip of Florida. The same storm then churned northwest across the Gulf of Mexico and was nearing the coast of Galveston, Texas in the pre-dawn hours of Saturday, September 8, 1900. Persons living in the Galveston area were accustomed to storms and knew from previous experience that each was to be judged on its own merit. From all indications, the average citizen didn't rule this storm to be especially bad. However, Galveston had been lucky in that it hadn't seen many really bad hurricanes.

At approximately 5 a.m., Mr. Isaac Cline of the National Weather Service started taking his readings, only to find that the local minor flooding in the low lying areas and the strong wind gusts were a part of something much more ominous. He kept checking and rechecking his readings - wind speeds picking up, rainfall increasing and barometric pressure dropping. He was convinced that hell itself awaited just slightly offshore! He continued to wire reports to the Washington Office.

On that morning and in bad weather, Sister Elizabeth Ryan, one of the ten sisters of St. Mary's Orphanage had come to the infirmary in town to get a wagonload of supplies. As she was preparing to leave, Mother Gabriel tried to convince her to stay at the infirmary until the storm passed. Sister Elizabeth declined saying that if she didn't return the kids wouldn't have any supper.

The people went about their daily routines, children were playing in the minor flooding and sightseers were at the beach watching the large swells come ashore. Mr. Cline kept sending telegrams to the Washington Office until the telegraph lines went down in the mid-afternoon. Most of his instruments had been damaged beyond use by the extreme wind. At this point, he mounted his horse, rode to the beach and began to yell warnings to all who could or would hear for them to leave for higher ground.

As the day wore on, the winds became greater, as did the rain and the waves crashing in on the shoreline. Downtown streets became flooded.St. Mary's Orphans Asylum consisted of two large two-story buildings, located near the beach, behind a row of tall sand dunes. By late afternoon, the rising tides began to erode the sand dunes and wash away the salt cedar trees that grew there, then the Gulf water reached the dormitories. The Sisters brought the children into the newer dormitory. In the first floor chapel of the dormitory, the Sisters tried to comfort the terrified children and had them sing an old French hymn, "Queen of the Waves."

As the waters rose, the Sisters moved the children to the second floor and asked Mr. Henry Esquior, an orphanage worker, to collect clothesline rope.

By 6 PM, the wind speed had already reached an estimated 100 mph! By this time, Mr. Cline's wind speed gage had already been broken. The Sisters tied the children together and then each Sister tied a group of children to herself.

At about 7:30 PM, the main tidal surge hit, laying waste to everything in its path except the strongest of buildings. The Sisters at the orphanage watched as the boys' dormitory was destroyed. The girls' dormitory was shortly afterward lifted from its foundation and parts of the roof collapsed, trapping many inside while other parts of the roof were simply blown away. Many of the Sisters and children were thrown into the debris-filled, turbulent Gulf waters, many going under never to surface again.

Three boys of the orphanage survived the ordeal by landing in a tree and clinging to it. Their first three hours were the roughest, with the island fifteen feet below them (estimated by Isaac Cline) and debris being blown their way in the darkness by an estimated 120 mph wind (more modern studies of the damage put the wind speed at closer to 130 mph)! At about midnight, things began to calm down. The three boys were in the water for over a day, fighting insects and wild animals, before they could finally get past the huge debris piles to reach the hospital. These badly beaten, exhausted little boys were the only survivors from St. Mary's Orphanage. Much of what you read here is based on their accounts.

Each of them agreed that all the children of St. Mary's were afraid, as could have been expected, but the Sisters were absolutely calm, showing no fear at all. One of the boys said that he overheard a Sister holding and comforting two little children, telling them, "I'll hold you close. I promise, I'll never let go."

The three boys of St. Mary's Orphans Asylum who survived the hurricane were William Murney, Frank Madera and Albert Campbell.

As the Gulf waters subsided and land became visible again, only a few bricks from the foundations would be left of the orphanage structures. Ninety bodies would be found there and in the immediate area; two of those were identified as Sisters. Other Sisters, some with children still tied to them were buried where they were found in the days and weeks that followed.

The bodies of Sisters Raphael and Genevieve were found in Texas City, about 10 miles away on the mainland. One of them had nine children still lashed to her. The other Sister was clutching two lifeless little bodies - as promised, she had never let go!

In the weeks that followed the storm, wagons hauling human bodies was a common sight on the streets of Galveston. Bodies were hauled away on wagons, weighted down and buried at sea. But, at some point, the bodies began to wash up on the shore. From that time on, the bodies were buried where they were found.

The final death toll was an estimate and one that has always been in question, but those who make such counts agree that the minimum number of persons killed by the storm was six thousand, some say eight thousand. There simply was no way of knowing how many were washed out into the Gulf, never to be seen again. Being a major seaport, there were many sailors from foreign countries who were probably lost also, in addition to visitors to the city. At any rate, Galveston had lost 1/6 of its population. In some areas, such as the area around St. Mary's Orphans Asylum, for a brief time, there were more dead people than live ones!

Ninety-four years after the great hurricane, the state of Texas placed a marker at 69th Street and Seawall Boulevard, marking the spot where the Saint Mary's Orphans Asylum once stood and absolute courage once lived.