"When I got to our ship, I found 220 patients who had been brought on board from the shore. All night long the ship's doctor—a wonderful young fellow—had been taking off limbs and attending to the injuries of the wounded. Seventeen dead people were carried from the ship, which has been well described as a 'shambles.' The whole of the decks were covered with blood. And this is the ship the Americans complained so bitterly that the captain would not allow them to take refuge on. We ourselves were not allowed to go on board; we had to go inland and camp out in the open. We did not know until the day after we left that five seamen were buried in the ruins, although it was known that four of our passengers who went out with us and were to return by the ship had met their deaths.
"The Governor, Sir Alexander Swettenham, was all the night long among the wounded; and his wife, a most magnificent woman, was at the temporary hospital making tea and soup, and preparing bandages for the injured people.
"Some American war-ships came into the British harbour at Kingston immediately after the earthquake. My oldest friend once said to me in Australia, 'Would you rather have in your employ a fool or a rogue?' His Excellency the Governor of Jamaica would probably answer—the latter, to-day. Sir Alexander had been working night and day for 48 hours, and threw himself down to sleep for a few hours on Thursday morning alter the earthquake. It was while he was asleep that his police inspector invited or accepted the invitation of the American Admiral to land an armed force in Jamaica. You may imagine the horror of the Governor, knowing the feeling—unjust feeling certainly—prevailing among the poor, ignorant people of Jamaica, at finding what had been done and how the action would be misunderstood. He hurried to the Admiral and explained the situation.
