VERY EARLY MONDAY MORNING,
OCTOBER 9, 1871
- Blame and Regrets -
Justin stood on tiptoe to see over the crowd in front of him. “The bridge! It’s just ahead of us. We’ll be safe soon.”
As they approached the State Street Bridge, Charlie groaned, “The fire has crossed the river! The buildings over on the other side are burning.”
“Oh, look at the boats—they’re on fire,” Justin said gloomily.
Father threw up his hands helplessly. “The oil and all the junk on the surface of the water acted like fuel.”
“I told you we should have turned down that side street a few blocks back. Then we’d have gone down to the lakefront,” Mother said in an accusing voice. “No one listens to me!”
“That’s all we do is listen to you,” Father snapped. “You never stop talking.”
“This is no time for ‘I told you so,’” Charlie scolded. “We’ll cross the bridge. No more discussion.”
They continued being swept along by the crowd, climbing over the bodies of dead animals and abandoned carpetbags, steering clear of wandering horses and wheelbarrows still filled with belongings. Some people stopped long enough to pick through the items and take what they wanted.
“Thieves everywhere,” Father muttered.
Suddenly Charlie set down the wheelbarrow that he’d been pushing for hours. “I can’t do this anymore! My hands are so badly burned—my blisters have broken and now they’re bleeding. Can someone else push this? Otherwise, I’m leaving everything right here.”
“I’ll take it,” Father said. He placed the bag he was carrying onto the top of the overloaded barrow and began pushing awkwardly as the top-heavy cart wobbled in every direction.
“I’ll try to get it over the bridge,” Father insisted. “If I can’t, I’ll leave it.”
“We’re not moving,” Charlie said. “Everyone is funneling onto the bridge.”
Justin stood on his tiptoes and looked ahead once more at the slow-moving wall of people. All the while the surging, towering flames and turbulent clouds of smoke roared skyward.
Justin felt trapped. Perhaps they should go back to that street his mother had said led to the lake. He stood tall and stretched to see behind them. Another barricade of people!
Suddenly, for a fleeting second he saw—or thought he saw—a small familiar figure struggling in the midst of the crowd. Is that Poppy? It was hard to tell in the darkness when the only light was from the fiery sky. Whoever it was disappeared from sight.
Justin turned around as a wagon made its way through the mob. “I have room for your belongings,” the driver called out. “Twenty dollars and I’ll carry your things to Lincoln Park and meet you there. That’s where everyone’s heading. The fire hasn’t touched the park.”
“Over here!” Father called. “Take all this stuff in the wheelbarrow.”
“Twenty dollars cash now,” the driver said.
Father pulled out his leather and handed over the money. The driver hopped down from the cart and tossed everything from the wheelbarrow into the back of the wagon.
“Take this, too,” Mother said, throwing her stuffed pillowcase to the man.
“What about your bag?” the driver asked Claire.
“No. I’ll keep this with me,” she answered. She looked guiltily at her mother. “My wedding linens are in here,” she whispered. “They’re the only things I could carry.” Her eyes filled with tears.
“It’s all right, dear,” Mother said, and patted Claire’s hand.
“Hey, kid,” the driver said to Justin. “I’ll take your goat if you tie her into the bed of the truck, but it’ll cost another ten dollars.”
“No!” Justin picked up Ticktock and cuddled her. “She stays with me.”
Nearby, a large man yelled at the driver and the Butterworths. “Move! The fire’s headin’ this way, for the love of God!”
The driver climbed into the cart and clicked the reins, and his horse tried to move through the line of people. “Get outta the way!” he hollered. Then, brandishing a whip, he cracked it over the heads of those in his path.
The crowd opened up and Father urged the family on. “Now we can move faster.”
“How are your hands, Charlie?” Mother asked.
“Sore—real sore. But I can’t think about it now. Let’s just get to Lincoln Park and meet the driver.”
“I heard some of the crowds are heading to a cemetery up there,” Father said. “There are few trees in the park and cemetery to catch fire.”
Justin set Ticktock down and the family continued across the bridge. The air was hot and Justin wished he had drinking water for himself and for his pet. “Can we get water?” he asked.
“There should be water soon,” Father said. “The new water tower is on this side of the river. The water tower is built of limestone blocks. It can’t burn down.”
“But there’s only one waterworks and that has a wooden roof,” Charlie said.
“Look!” A woman nearby pointed to the fire that had now taken hold on the far side of the river. “It’s heading that way. And if it hits the waterworks, there’ll be no water to drink—and none for the fire engines.”
“What fire engines?” another woman said mockingly. “Half of them are broke, they’ve been so overworked. I heard they’ve even misplaced some of the horses! We’ve got a bunch of stupid idiots runnin’ around loose.” She spit on the ground. “Chicago will be wiped right off the map.”
“It’s all punishment from God,” the first woman said. “This city is the most wicked city in the world. The fire is an act of God.”
Justin spoke up. “We live here and we’re good people. Why would God punish us?”
“God isn’t punishing anyone,” Claire said. “It’s a fire. That’s all.”
Justin thought about Claire’s words and felt better. If God had caused this terrible fire, well, Justin would never go to church again—even if Forrest was preaching.
They were off the bridge now and onto a street on the north side of the river. Then Justin thought of Poppy. “I think I saw Poppy back there in the crowd,” he said to Claire.
“You did? I hope she’s safe,” Claire said with a trembling voice. “I want so badly to let her know I trust and believe in her.”
“We let her down, didn’t we?” Justin said.
“Remember that night when she was trying on the dress? Poppy broke down, wanting so badly to live a good life. I said I’d help her. Oh, Justin, she looked up at me with those big brown eyes and … I know she believed everything I said and promised.” Claire began to weep again. “I shall never forgive myself if anything happens to Poppy.”
“Neither will I forgive myself,” Justin whispered.