Lowcountry Hurricanes

The Flagg Flood

The long glass display case in the Museum at Brookgreen Gardens held more than just postcards for sale. There, the Hostesses, Miss Genevieve and Cousin Corrie, also displayed mementoes and artifacts related to the history of Brookgreen and the Lowcountry.

One photograph of an old man with long white hair and a bushy white beard drew frequent attention from visitors. They regularly identified him as Walt Whitman and inquired about his connection to Brookgreen Gardens. Miss Genevieve patiently explained that this was not the famous poet, but Brookgreen’s long time resident and much beloved physician, Joshua John Ward Flagg, usually called "Dr. Wardie."

When visitors showed interest, Miss Genevieve encouraged Cousin Corrie to talk about his sad history and the story of what local people called “The Flagg Flood.” Miss Genevieve usually finished the story herself, recounting Dr. Wardie’s life after that tragic hurricane.

Cousin Corrie began her story . . .

Alice Flagg awoke uneasily to the stormy gray morning of Friday, October 13th, 1893. Now approaching spinsterhood, she kept house for her widowed father in their Wachesaw Plantation home called the Hermitage. The sturdy, two-story structure stood by the seashore marshes at Murrells Inlet on the Waccamaw Neck. (In case you don’t know, the Waccamaw Neck is the twenty-mile-long strip of mainland between the Waccamaw River and the Atlantic Ocean along South Carolina’s coast near Myrtle Beach.) This Alice had been named for her long-deceased aunt who once lived in that same house—and perhaps still does.

Looking out her bedroom window at the wildly unsettled weather, Miss Alice’s uneasiness increased. Lashing rain could herald a dangerous storm! The seacoast was no place to stay during a cyclone, which is what they called hurricanes back then. But what to do? Even suggesting a move to a safer location would raise her father’s ire. And Dr. Allard Belin Flagg’s ire frightened Miss Alice almost as much as the prospect of a deadly tempest.

Dr. Allard, of the Hermitage, and his daughter Alice, belonged to an old, proud Lowcountry family. Most Flagg men reveled in their aristocratic tradition, but Dr. Allard’s autocratic ways were legendary, even within the family. Fifty years earlier, his pride had led him to suppress what he considered a highly undesirable romance between his young sister, the first Miss Alice, and a socially inferior Horry County turpentine operator. Some claimed his ruthless actions led to Alice’s tragic death, but that’s another story.

The doctor had always dealt as sternly with his children as he had with his sister. Once, as he sat conversing with a neighbor, his young son, Allard III, ran into the parlor calling excitedly, “Father! Father!” Dr. Allard silenced the boy with one intimidating look. When Dr. Allard at last concluded his conversation, he turned to his increasingly agitated child. Finally given permission to speak, the boy burst forth. “Father, the house is on fire!”

Over the years, Miss Alice had learned to approach her father cautiously with suggestions or requests. He looked upon any challenge to his authority with special disfavor, even a challenge from Mother Nature. Alice knew she would have to express herself carefully that stormy morning.

Most days, Miss Alice and Dr. Allard could look out across the saltwater marsh from their mainland home and see Flagg family beach houses dotted along the strand of the sandy barrier island called Magnolia Beach—today’s Huntington Beach—just like today, we can see houses on Garden City Beach across the marsh from Murrells Inlet. Dr. Allard’s older brother, Dr. Arthur, and his large family summered there. Dr. Allard’s son, the one who had brought the news of fire, now grown up and called “Cousin Allard” by his relatives to distinguish him from his father, also summered there. A few additional local families maintained summer houses on the pleasant barrier island as well.

The esteemed Dr. Arthur practiced medicine on the Waccamaw Neck, serving planters and their families, along with their plantation workers. Additionally, he planted rice on his own small holdings near the center of the Neck. He had quickly become a respected leader in the community, and in All Saints Episcopal Church whose parish included all of the Waccamaw Neck.

Dr. Allard, of the Hermitage, had also become a community and church leader. He achieved less prominence than his brother, however, because of the more isolated location of his Wachesaw Plantation, on the northern edge of the parish, and because of his reclusive—perhaps even, odd—nature.

Every year during the "sickly season" of summer and early fall, Dr. Arthur moved his entire family, by now including children and grandchildren, from his small mainland plantation with its swampy rice fields out to Magnolia Beach on the barrier island. There, cooling sea breezes made the Southern heat more bearable. The absence of standing water also reduced the threat of malaria carried by the mosquitoes so common inland.

In Dr. Arthur’s time, the cause of malaria remained unknown. In fact, he and his medical colleagues believed foul summer air from swamps, "mal aria," caused the illness. The result was the same, no matter what the cause. Whites who remained inland during the sickly season often became ill and died. Those at the seashore stayed healthy. Therefore, Dr. Arthur and his family followed the long-standing custom among Waccamaw Neck planters and made the move to Magnolia Beach early every summer.

Dr. Allard, on the other hand, didn’t need to make such a move. He already lived right on the mainland seashore at Murrells Inlet, far from the swampy “mal-aria” inland. Besides, the reclusive widower enjoyed his daily life at the Hermitage, headquarters of the plantation he had received as a gift from his uncle, early Waccamaw Neck Methodist minister James Belin. In his old age, childless Parson Belin had given Wachesaw to his favorite nephew, Dr. Allard—although it’s hard to imagine how Dr. Allard could have been anyone’s favorite anything.

Dr. Allard also remained at the Hermitage because he preferred to keep a little distance between himself and all those folks out on Magnolia Beach. Since losing his wife, a daughter of Colonel Joshua John Ward, South Carolina’s richest rice planter in the 1850s, Dr. Allard had increasingly isolated himself from friends and relatives alike. He had been able to live quite comfortably, devoting himself to reading and quiet study, in large part due to improvements to the plantation made possible by his wife’s generous inheritance from her wealthy father.

Miss Alice, much like her father, also enjoyed the solitude of the Hermitage and usually remained there as well. Unlike his father and older sister, Cousin Allard enjoyed the company and outdoor activities on Magnolia Beach so he usually joined his relatives on the barrier island.

This stormy October morning, driving rain obscured any view of the island from those on the mainland. Since dawn, winds and rain had been increasing steadily, along with Alice’s anxiety. To speak? Not to speak? At last, she approached her father. “Sir, perhaps, do you think we might possibly want to contemplate moving inland, away from the threatening ocean.”

Coldly, Dr. Allard considered his daughter’s suggestion. He considered the storm.

No. Leaving was silly! No sense in disrupting his routine. They would stay. Decision made. There could be no real danger here on the shore . . . Now, the Flagg families out on that narrow, low-lying Magnolia Beach were much more vulnerable to wind and waves . . .

So, that dark Friday morning as they looked out at the storm, Dr. Allard, and even Miss Alice, worried more about what might be happening out on Magnolia Beach than about their own situation on the mainland. They added a prayer for the safety of all to their morning devotions, then sat down to a hot breakfast.

As longtime family servants Aunt Cincy and Maum Katherine brought steaming plates of fried eggs, shrimp, and grits swimming in melted butter into the Hermitage’s dining room, both women glanced nervously at the rain beating against the tall windows behind Miss Alice’s chair. Dr. Allard seemed unconcerned about the weather. He gazed steadily down the polished mahogany table at some object just above eye level on the far wall. Miss Alice, on the other hand, jumped as each increasingly fierce onslaught rattled the windowpanes.

Out on the barrier island, Dr. Allard’s brother, Dr. Arthur, also appeared unconcerned about the worsening weather. In spite of the risk of violent storms, planters usually remained at the shore until late October or early November when the first hard frost signaled the end of the sickly season.

This older gentleman delighted in the small summer community of relatives he had established near the century-old summer house where his grandmother Rachel, Mistress of Brookgreen Plantation, had once encountered her long lost fiancé, returned from the dead (another story). He intended to remain at Magnolia Beach for at least a few more weeks.

Dr. Arthur and his wife Georgeanna, another daughter of the wealthy rice planter Colonel Joshua John Ward, had raised three sons on the Waccamaw Neck. After the War Between the States, Dr. Arthur bought small portions of Springfield Plantation and adjacent Brookgreen Plantation, where his grandmother once entertained both President George Washington and British General Lord Cornwallis—not at the same time—using the money left to his wife by that wealthy father. These two plantations, as well as Dr. Allard’s Wachesaw Plantation, had weathered the disastrous conflict fairly well. Most of the former slaves considered the plantations their home and remained there as paid workers after Freedom. All three plantations continued to produce large crops of rice each year.

Although Dr. Arthur and Georgeanna’s boys had only received spotty formal schooling, their well educated parents instructed them in a variety of classical and practical areas. In addition to Greek and Latin, they learned to manage the plantation and to participate in community affairs. Following family tradition, all three sons attended the Medical College of South Carolina in Charleston, the fifth, sixth, and seventh members of their family to become physicians.

When the eldest son, Dr. Arthur, Jr., graduated from the Medical College, he returned to the Waccamaw Neck and began practicing medicine here. He married, started a family, and built a summer house on Magnolia Beach next to his father’s.

The second son, Dr. Wardie, also returned to the Waccamaw neck after graduation, but lived with his parents here on Brookgreen Plantation in the old home that once stood where the Alligator Bender Pool stands today. Unlike his two brothers, this young man never seemed interested in female companionship, preferring books to the social whirl. This new physician threw himself into helping his father “doctor" local patients and quickly became a favorite because of his kind and gentle concern for all, both black and white. Each summer, Dr. Wardie moved with his parents to their beach house where he could indulge his passion for reading during long days of leisure.

Only Dr. Charlie Flagg, the youngest of the three boys, did not remain in the Lowcountry. After his graduation, he struck out west to establish a medical practice in Camas, Washington, where his descendents still live today.

Days at Magnolia Beach had been long and lovely throughout the summer and fall of 1893. All generations of Flaggs enjoyed the sea breezes and relaxed way of living in their little community. They visited with family and neighbors. Sometimes, they made expeditions up to Murrells Inlet or down to Pawley’s Island. Other relatives often joined them for extended stays.

Occasionally, Dr. Arthur traveled back to his plantation to conduct business or to check on the progress of crops, but during most days he relaxed at the beach, reading medical journals or working on the official All Saints Parish Registry. An important church leader, he had served for many years on the Vestry—that’s the governing board—of All Saints Episcopal Church. As senior member of the Vestry, he took on the responsibility for recording all church member births, deaths, marriages, baptisms, and confirmations. That summer, he brought the Parish Registry to the seashore with him to update it.

Earlier church members had brought a beautiful sterling silver chalice and engraved bowl to South Carolina from England for use during communion. Church services rarely took place during the summer, so Dr. Arthur also carried the silver along with him to Magnolia Beach for safekeeping.

Mrs. Flagg had set herself a recording task while at the seashore as well. She brought along the Flagg family Bible to enter births and deaths within the family and among plantation workers during the past months. This, along with managing the household, kept her busy.

That household had grown larger than usual in October of 1893. In addition to herself, her husband, her son, and their servants, three of Mrs. Flagg’s teenage nieces had joined them for the month of October. Ann, Pauline, and Elizabeth Weston were children of still another of Colonel Ward’s daughters. Mrs. Flagg delighted in their visit. She even had her piano carried over from the plantation house so the three could practice their music every morning.

The only unpleasantness of that summer at the shore came from the polite but very definite tension between the elder Dr. Arthur and one of his neighbors, a Mrs. Hasell, widow of his colleague, friend, and former brother-in-law, Dr. Lewis Hasell.

Now these connections get a little complicated so listen closely. Mrs. Hasell was Dr. Hasell’s second wife. Dr. Hasell’s long-deceased first wife had been yet one more of Colonel Ward’s daughters, one of seven he fathered, in addition to his three sons (each of whom commanded the Waccamaw Light Artillery for a time during the War Between the States, but that too is another story). In his will—which later caused never ending complications for his family—Colonel Ward followed the custom of the day and divided his plantations among his sons while leaving substantial suns of money to each daughter. Women couldn’t be expected to manage property, don’t you know. In fact, even the money his daughters inherited actually went to their husbands for “safekeeping.”

Although Dr. Hasell’s first wife didn’t inherit any land from her father, Dr. Hasell had come to purchase the majority of Brookgreen Plantation through her connections—and with her money. That included Dr. Arthur’s grandmother Rachel’s beach house.

When Dr. Hasell died, the second Mrs. Hasell inherited Brookgreen Plantation and that century-old beach house. She was now spending the summer there with her entire household and several guests. The lovely old home, built of ancient cypress and sturdy pine heartwood, sat farther back from the strand than the other houses. From its high perch behind the sand dunes, it overlooked both the Atlantic Ocean to the east and the creeks and marshes between Magnolia Beach and the mainland to the west.

Now this second Mrs. Hasell came originally from New York. Some say her outspoken Northern ways did not sit well with Dr. Arthur. Others say the doctor disliked the fact that she was independently wealthy, much wealthier than he was. Still others say he resented her owning most of what he viewed as his family plantation along with its treasured beach house. For whatever reason, tensions ran high, but of course, Southern chivalry prevented any open hostility. Still, relations between the two households were not friendly.

In spite of the lovely weather that season, all knew that devastating hurricanes could strike the Carolina coast at any time. One big storm had already come ashore farther south that summer in August. It drowned hundreds in Charleston but did little damage at Magnolia Beach. Here, it only seemed to usher in the cooler days of early fall, often the most pleasant time of year at the seashore.

So, that mid-October morning, both the elder and the younger Dr. Arthurs and their households were still enjoying their usual lazy season at Magnolia Beach, as was Mrs. Hasell. Cousin Allard also remained in his own small cottage up the beach from the others. Of course, all the household servants remained with their various families.

No one expected trouble.

None of those at the elder Dr. Arthur Flagg’s house had slept well that Thursday night. Rising winds and pelting rain woke them repeatedly but none worried much. Their beach house had weathered many an October storm.

At first light on Friday, Dr. Arthur sent several of his uneasy servants back home to his plantation on the mainland. His manservant, Anthony Doctor, chose to remain with the family. Housekeeper and cook, Adele Duncan, born a slave on Brookgreen Plantation, always devoted herself to Flagg family needs. She and her helpers, Betsy and Kit, also stayed at the beach to carry on with their daily chores.

Maum Adele’s first responsibility was always getting breakfast on the table by precisely nine o’clock. Today was no different. Dr. Arthur consulted his gold pocket watch as he sat down, satisfied to see his directives being followed as usual.

Around the breakfast table, Dr. Arthur, Dr. Wardie, Mrs. Flagg, and her teenaged nieces discussed leaving Magnolia Beach themselves. None felt any great urgency to do so. The discussion ended abruptly when Anthony brought in the unsettling information that rising waters had cut off any passage over the causeway to the mainland, leaving no choice but to remain.

Fear suddenly clutched at Mrs. Flagg. What to do? What to do? An idea occurred to her. “Perhaps we should all move up to the Hasell house. We would be so much safer there, on the high dunes farther back from the ocean.”

“No! We will seek no assistance from that Mrs. Hasell!” thundered proud Dr. Arthur. Nearly as stubborn as his brother at the Hermitage, he rejected any such idea. “The Flagg family will weather the storm in our own home. We have done so many times before. Why would this time be different?”

Inside the Hasell house itself, anxiety was also beginning to run high. The equally proud and stubborn Mrs. Hasell had firmly discounted any real danger in remaining at Magnolia Beach to her guests the evening before. Rising early that morning, she put an end to talk among her household servants of returning to the mainland. She cautioned them strongly not to speak of their fears to her guests.

But during breakfast, Mrs. Hasell’s own doubts began to grow. The wind was continuing to rise. Maybe her guests—who certainly looked uneasy—would feel more comfortable back on the mainland. One glance out the back window showed her that this option no longer remained available however. Advancing water now trapped them on the island.

Down nearer the strand, young Dr. Arthur and his wife Mattie—a member of the wealthy, old LaBruce family of Waccamaw planters—also rose early after a restless night. They and their six young children had been enjoying their extended season on Magnolia Beach. Unlike their older relatives, the members of this family had busied themselves with outdoor activities. They took boat rides. They went crabbing. They fished. They bathed in the sea or walked along the strand gathering "treasures." Cousin Allard, and even Dr. Wardie, occasionally joined the lively youngsters in their outings. That October, two of Mattie’s unmarried sisters, Betty and Alice LaBruce, also arrived to join the fun at the family’s beach house. But that Thursday night, wind and rain had repeatedly disturbed everyone’s sleep.

When servants from his father’s house stopped by on their way to the mainland, young Dr. Arthur sent several of his own retainers back to the plantation with them. The ones who remained busied themselves cooking breakfast for the large household. Delicious aromas of fried ham, steaming grits, and hot biscuits soon filled the air. Mattie called the family to the long dining table already set with large pitchers of Bossy’s fresh, frothy milk.

Young Dr. Arthur sat at the head of the table, of course, with Mattie at the other end. Their eldest daughter, Madge, had gone to visit friends in Georgetown on the mainland, so nine year old Albert felt important as the senior child in residence. He sat next to his father and directed six year old Ward and three year old Eben to sit below him along the same side of the rustic table. The LaBruce sisters sat on the opposite side, placing four year old Alice between them. Baby Mattie, who had just turned one, continued to sleep peacefully in her cradle on the floor alongside her mother.

This Flagg family also talked about the storm, but the adults tried to hide whatever anxiety they felt from the children. They focused on settling down the younger ones and encouraging them to eat a hearty breakfast—while they avoided looking outside at the surging breakers.

As his relatives enjoyed their hot breakfasts, Cousin Allard—seemingly the only male Flagg not to become a physician—sat eating his own morning meal in his cottage up the beach. He and his manservant, whose name I don’t recall, were making do with last night’s cold cornbread. Allard had sent his cook and her helper back to the mainland the evening before when they became concerned about the threatening weather.

Cousin Allard chose to remain at the beach. He always enjoyed watching winds drive waves along the shore. His equally adventurous young manservant stayed too. Both looked forward to the excitement of riding out a storm by the ocean.

Back on the mainland, Dr. Allard and Miss Alice were finishing their breakfast at the Hermitage when the intensity of the storm increased. Miss Alice rose and crossed to the front window. The howl of wind grew louder. Through sheets of rain and flashing lightning, she could make out seawater rising higher in the marsh. Soon it covered even the tips of the marsh grass. As she watched, water began creeping—then rushing—into the yard. Closer and closer to the porch it came. Too late to think of moving inland! They couldn’t escape now.

Across the marsh at Magnolia Beach, a rising ocean surged up the strand, ever closer to the beach houses. High tide and wind-driven waves were also beginning to flood back yards from the creek side. And still the water rose. The mighty storm was growing.

Soon after Cousin Allard and his manservant finished their meager breakfast, they noticed the storm's increased force. Vicious wind and rain shook windows as the sky grew darker. As the two men stood watching, each neighboring house turned into an island in a sea of boiling waves. The adventurous young men had not expected this!

Although Cousin Allard’s residence was smaller than the other Flagg houses, like them, it had several outbuildings. A separate kitchen, built in the back yard, kept the heat and threat of fire away from the main house. The shed where Allard stabled his horse stood beside it.

As the water continued to rise, Cousin Allard decided to turn his horse loose, knowing it had a better chance of survival in the open, rather than trapped inside the rapidly flooding shed. He and his manservant fought their way through the wind and drenching rain to lead the horse outside and turn him loose.

The two men then struggled back to the house through swirling water, now waist-deep. Wind-driven rain pelted them unmercifully, stinging every inch of exposed skin. They reached the back door at last and made their way inside, shutting out the storm’s fury, at least for the moment.

At the Hermitage, torrential rains and wind-borne debris drummed against the outside of the house throughout the morning, but the old structure held fast. When rising water covered the porch, Dr. Allard ordered the front and back doors opened. Dark currents surged through the hall, into the dining room and parlor.

Dr. Allard and Miss Alice, followed by their two servants, climbed the hall staircase to the landing halfway up to the second floor. From there, Dr. Allard stared defiantly down at the swirling water that dared to continue inching its way up, covering one stair, then the next and the next. The women huddled behind him as claps of thunder punctuated the wind’s howl and roar.

From their perch on the landing, all four watched the progress of the storm. Through the open front door, they could see waves rolling across the front yard. Through the landing’s rear window, the back yard, usually a low-lying tidal swash only flooding at high tide, now presented a vast expanse of water. Ocean surrounded them on all sides! Each prayed silently for their safety, as well as for that of family members they knew to be in danger out on the barrier island. The ferocity of the storm continued to increase.

Cousin Allard felt secure inside his sturdy wooden beach house, even as winds howled and waves rose higher outside. Then water climbed the front porch steps. When waves began breaking against the front of the house, he opened the doors to relieve pressure on the structure. The ocean rapidly raced through, front to back, covering wide pine floorboards with inches, then feet, of murky, swirling seawater.

The two young men climbed the stairs to the second floor ahead of the rising flood. Larger and larger waves battered the wooden structure until it began to give way under the water’s crushing weight. Front walls collapsed inward with a mighty screech. The roof sagged slowly on top of them. Luckily, this gave the two men time to escape through a back window—escape, but into raging waters.

Allard and his manservant found themselves tumbling in the churning depths, choking on mouthfuls of salty water, grabbing at floating slabs of siding. Fortunately, the roaring wind and waves pushed them into what looked like a raft, actually the bobbing roof of the backyard kitchen! It seemed almost stable in the surrounding chaos. Both men scrambled aboard, only to be greeted by another bedraggled rider—the kitchen’s yowling, spitting tomcat!

All three clung desperately to their wildly pitching raft, safe for now, although each successive wave threatened to sweep them off into the turbulent water.

The elder Dr. Arthur and his family were also finishing their breakfast that Friday morning when they noticed the storm’s increasing force. Lightning and thunder now accompanied the wind-driven rain. Looking out their windows, they were startled to see ocean water already surrounding their beach house. And the water was rising. Time had come to move precious belongings to the second floor—just in case.

Dr. Arthur carried the Parish Register and the wooden box holding the communion silver upstairs. The Weston girls helped Mrs. Flagg gather up her correspondence, along with the family Bible and a few knick-knacks from the parlor. Maum Adele and her helpers carried china, crystal, linens, and flatware up from the dining room while Anthony and Dr. Wardie moved more books and medical journals upstairs.

Soon, water covered the front porch. The entire household gathered on the second floor, terrified by now-constant thunder and lightning. Waves began to break against the house as violent winds pushed them ever higher. Dr. Arthur sent Anthony back downstairs to open the doors and windows, letting water flow through the lower level. All bemoaned the fate of their precious piano but could do nothing to protect it.

Looking out the upstairs windows, the concerned family could barely make out young Dr. Arthur’s house down the beach. The ocean was battering the porch and lower story. They could see no signs of life, but hoped all inside remained safe.

Then their attention returned to their own house. It had begun to shudder ominously. Bricks collapsed from the chimney as smashing waves rose to the second floor, inside and out. The structure shook with each pounding onslaught. It could not hold together much longer.

Back on their makeshift raft, Allard and his manservant could only see over the towering swells occasionally. Driving rain further limited their vision. Still, they sensed the storm pushing them toward the mainland.

What was that dark object moving toward them in the water? A horse! Cousin Allard’s horse appeared, swimming strongly through the waves. Allard called to the animal, which seemed to recognize his voice and continued to follow behind the raft.

Frightening and exhausting hours stretched on as the two men and the tomcat clung to their battered raft. Yet all, including the horse, remained alive.

Fear gripped every heart in the group huddled on the second floor of the elder Dr. Arthur’s beach house as the structure began disintegrating around them. Frantic, Dr. Wardie eyed a large beach cedar—what we call a tamarisk—outside his bedroom window. It bent in the screeching gale but seemed firmly anchored—a last hope.

With Dr. Wardie’s help, Anthony pushed open the window and climbed down the shutter to the now-floating porch roof below. Dr. Wardie followed Anthony. Together they helped the three Weston girls, Mrs. Flagg, Maum Adele, Kit, Betsy, and finally, Dr. Arthur climb out onto the lurching porch roof.

None could see more than a few feet through the blinding rain and stinging salt spray, but, holding tightly together, they helped each other cross the roof and climb into the limbs of the wiry beach cedar. There, each inched along to a spot where he or she could get a firm grip on the tree.

Suddenly, bushes loomed out of the rolling swells in front of Allard and his manservant on their lurching raft. No, those were treetops! Wind and waves had carried them to the shore. Now, those same elements beat the men and their raft mercilessly against branches and trunks of live oaks and pine trees rising out of the swirling flood. The two men and the cat could only hold on to the kitchen roof with every scrap of their remaining strength. The horse swam off into the storm.

On and on the storm raged as Dr. Arthur and his household clutched their precarious perches on the beach cedar. Slashing wind-driven rain beat at their faces. Monstrous waves tore at their bodies. Soon the house was gone, demolished and carried away by the wild ocean’s fury. Only the beach cedar and those clinging desperately to it remained.

The storm and their own despair soon began to exhaust frail bodies. Young Pauline Weston lost her grip and sank under a breaking wave. Little Elizabeth weakened, then she too slipped into the surging water. Maum Adele, then Kit, then Betsy disappeared beneath relentless breakers.

Suddenly, a towering wall of water tore Mrs. Flagg from her limb. Dr. Arthur grabbed for her but lost his hold on the tree. Wardie watched helplessly as his parents vanished beneath the merciless waves, embraced in each other’s arms.

Hour after hour Dr. Wardie held his frantic grip on the wind-whipped beach cedar. It seemed an eternity for his exhausted body and mind. One surge tore Anthony from his limb but he caught another branch before the powerful sea could pull him under. Ann, the last Weston girl, began to weaken. "Live, for your mother’s sake!" begged Dr. Wardie, as the storm raged on.

At last, winds started to subside on the mainland. Waters receded and a bright afternoon sun parted the clouds. The Hermitage had held fast. At its highest point, seawater had only risen two feet inside the house, leaving its dark mark around the interior parlor walls.

As the weather cleared, Dr. Allard, Miss Alice, and the servants emerged into the yard, thankful the storm had caused them so little damage. But as all gazed out across the marsh, a chilling sight met their eyes. Maum Katherine, Aunt Cincy, and Alice, stood on the shore, staring in horror. Dr. Allard, always a stern and private man, turned without a word and disappeared into his study.

No house remained along the strand on Magnolia Beach.

When waters receded out on the island, Mrs. Hasell’s home still stood, safe behind the dunes. Badly damaged but intact, the old beach house and all those inside had survived another October storm.

Mrs. Hasell sent out a search party to look for other survivors. Down by the shore, they found Dr. Wardie, little Ann Weston, and Anthony Doctor, dazed but alive and still clinging to their beach cedar. Rescuers had to pry Dr. Wardie’s fingers from around the branch he still gripped with all his might.

The young doctor cooperated with rescuers’ efforts to bring him to safety but answered none of their inquiries. He only gazed beyond them with glassy eyes. Although he ate what they put in front of him over the next few days, Dr. Wardie only stared, or sometimes wept in response to their questions.

Within the week, rescuers were able to return Ann Weston, disconsolate, to her stricken parents. Anthony Doctor rejoined his thankful relatives in their quarters on the plantation.

Miraculously, Cousin Allard, his manservant, his horse, and his tomcat all survived the storm—one of the few reasons for rejoicing that day. Winds had even lodged their raft safely on the shore close to the Hermitage itself.

As for those in young Dr. Arthur’s summer house on Magnolia Beach, I can’t tell you how their struggle against the storm unfolded that morning. None from that large household survived to carry the tale.

The storm devastated seacoasts above and below Brookgreen Plantation. Fallen trees, dead animals, scattered possessions, and debris lay everywhere—inland, throughout the marshes, and along the strand.

Many lost their lives. The elder Dr. Arthur Flagg, his wife Georgeanna, and her two nieces Pauline and Elizabeth Weston all drowned. So did young Dr. Arthur, his wife Mattie, her sisters Betty and Alice, and five Flagg children—Albert, Ward, Eben, Alice, and Baby Mattie. Their eldest daughter Madge, visiting friends in Georgetown, was the only member of that family to survive what came to be called The Flagg Flood. Maum Adele, Kit, and Betsy from old Dr. Arthur’s household, and all of young Dr. Arthur’s servants who had remained at the beach died as well.

Only a few of the bodies were ever found. Maum Adele’s body washed ashore on Magnolia Beach later that week. Searchers discovered old Dr. Arthur’s body partially buried in mud along a creek bank. The gold pocket watch still ticked in his vest.

Mattie Flagg’s body lay in her sandy yard on Magnolia Beach, tangled in fence wire. Searchers found the bodies of two of her children lying almost next to each other on the beach several miles north, up by the Dick Pond, near today’s Surfside Beach. The body of Mattie’s sister, Betty, washed ashore just as far to the south, on Dubordieu Beach, still clutching the lifeless body of Baby Mattie in her arms.

Searchers placed coffins at intervals along the sandy road running down the Waccamaw Neck, ready to receive bodies as they discovered them. Funerals took place in churches all up and down the coast. Reverend Guerry held a Flagg funeral at All Saints Episcopal Church every day for a week.

The hurricane created other casualties, as well. All Saints’ beautiful communion silver disappeared completely, along with the Flagg family Bible. Mrs. Chandler, here, tells how Aunt Hagar Brown, one of the local plantation workers, always claimed she didn’t know her exact age because it had “gone to sea in Dr. Flagg’s Bible.”

The All Saints Parish Registry survived, however. It turned up on the strand at Magnolia Beach, torn and water soaked but still readable.

Mrs. Chandler can tell you more about another survivor of the storm—Dr. Wardie, the white haired gentleman in the picture.

Miss Genevieve continued . . .

Grief and horror so overcame Dr. Wardie after the tragic storm that he shunned all company. He moved into a small house on Brookgreen Plantation because he could not bear to return to his parents’ large home, so full of memories. Local people all worried about the sad young physician they loved so well.

One day, Maum Adele’s son, Tom, knocked on Dr. Wardie’s door. Tom had lived and worked on the plantation all his life. Now he shared the young doctor’s grief. Not only had he lost his mother in the storm but his younger brother had drowned as well.

When Dr. Wardie reluctantly opened his door, Tom announced that he had come to take care of him. Over the young doctor’s somewhat feeble objections, Tom began to set the neglected household in order. From that day on, Tom cooked and cleaned for Dr. Wardie. He chopped wood, carried water, and made the long trek into town for supplies. Tom even moved his wife and family to a nearby cabin so he could be closer to his self-imposed charge.

The young doctor remained isolated in his small house for many months. Some say he took to drink, with Tom nursing him through long, sad days and nights. Whether from drink or from grief, at times Dr. Wardie seemed to be reliving incidents of those long hours in the water. He would cry out to his doomed family, one by one, begging them not to slip away.

Plantation workers began to avoid the lonely cottage and the withdrawn man they had once loved and respected. Dr. Wardie rarely left his house and depended on Tom to bring him whatever he needed.

Like any great tragedy, the Flagg Flood inspired stories. Down at Pawley’s Island, the old tale of the ghostly Gray Man who warned residents of impending disaster gained new life.

Local folk here at Brookgreen began telling tales of an imprisoned mermaid who caused the storm. Strangely enough, the gentle and kindhearted Dr. Wardie appeared in one version of the story as the villain responsible for the storm that killed so many of his own family. That story claimed he had brought the tragedy on himself by capturing a mermaid.

Perhaps these folks were trying to explain Dr. Wardie’s extreme response to the loss of his family. If he felt guilty for causing their deaths, his extended grief and isolation would make more sense. Maybe the story also helped explain his lifelong avoidance of society, especially that of the female kind.

Now, Dr. Wardie had always shied away from the company of young ladies. Unlike his brothers, he showed little interest in chasing after girls. The young man always preferred his books or long walks on the beach to the carefully arranged—and carefully chaperoned—social gatherings of his day.

Perhaps it was something he said, or maybe it was something his teenage brothers made up to tease him, but the story began circulating that Dr. Wardie ignored young women because he had been enchanted by a beautiful mermaid. His long walks on the beach were really rendezvous with his true love from the deep.

Over and over—the story went—Dr. Wardie tried to convince the mystical creature to abandon her watery home, to come ashore and become his bride. He begged her to exchange her graceful tail and silvery scales for the form of a land-dwelling maiden. But the lovely enchantress would only laugh at his pleas and continue playing with the beautiful golden globe she always carried, then dive back into the splashing surf.

Finally, Dr. Wardie determined to capture his love and keep her on land until she consented to marry him. Early one morning he carried out his plan. When time came for their usual parting kiss, he seized her firmly in his strong arms and carried her to the secret alcove he had prepared in one of the outbuildings behind his father’s beach house. Over the next few days, the infatuated young man tried desperately to convince the mermaid to remain with him forever. He did not wish to harm her. He just wanted her to give up her watery ways and become his wife.

The mermaid grew quieter each day, spending more and more time spinning her golden globe. Dr. Wardie remained besotted, convinced he could win her over. Little did he know that her spinning globe was summoning mighty forces.

Of course, keeping something like an imprisoned mermaid hidden from curious eyes was impossible. Dr. Wardie’s family rarely ventured out to the buildings behind the beach house but family servants had frequent business there. When they discovered the supernatural creature, they pleaded with the young man to turn her loose. Of course, they dared not take such a liberty themselves. One after another, they warned him of the dire consequences of crossing this magical being.

Dr. Wardie would not be moved. He remained convinced his plan just needed a few more days. Even when torrential rains began to fall and angry winds lashed a rising ocean, he held fast to his hopes. He only recognized the folly of his dreams when he awoke to find himself and his family engulfed in a mighty hurricane. By then, it was too late. Once summoned, such a storm cannot easily be dismissed.

So, as crashing waves demolished Flagg beach houses, they released the beautiful mermaid from her prison. Perhaps Dr. Wardie saw her swim free as he clutched his storm-battered beach cedar. He certainly thought of her as grief overwhelmed him, grief that would haunt him for the rest of his years, grief for his lost family and for his lost love, his beautiful mermaid.

Dr. Wardie’s isolation in his cottage at Brookgreen continued month after month. Then an epidemic broke out among local children. With no other relief in sight, plantation workers begged the young physician to help them with medicine and doctoring their sick young ones.

Finally, Dr. Wardie’s concern for others reawakened. He began to provide needed medical services again to the local people, both black and white. He would go out at any hour of the day or night to take care of a patient. Although the local people kept him supplied with food, he rarely charged anyone for his care and often bought medicine with his own money for those who could not afford it.

Tom Duncan continued to take care of Dr. Wardie’s needs. Together they moved family portraits from the big plantation house into Dr. Wardie’s small cottage. There, the paintings, including a lovely oil of Dr. Wardie’s Aunt Alice, the White Lady of the Hermitage, painted by his uncle, George Whiting Flagg, kept him company throughout his long remaining years.

It was fortunate that they moved the portraits for shortly after the turn of the century, the big deserted plantation house caught fire and burned to the ground. That treasured painting of Alice still survives in the family somewhere today, most likely out in Washington.

Dr. Wardie lived in the small house on Brookgreen Plantation for the rest of his days, even though the plantation itself changed hands several times. Commercial rice growing ended in the early decades of the Twentieth Century. After that, plantation lands served as hunting retreats for wealthy businessmen. For a while, Brookgreen belonged to Dr. Julian Mood whose daughter, Julia Peterkin, wrote Scarlet Sister Mary, a novel about local Gullah people. It won a Pulitzer Prize in 1929.

In the 1930s, millionaire philanthropist Archer Huntington and his sculptor wife, Anna Hyatt Huntington, bought the historic rice plantation, along with three adjoining ones, combining them to create Brookgreen Gardens as a showplace for her sculpture. When Mr. Huntington developed Brookgreen Gardens, he built the lovely Alligator Bender Pool where the old plantation home once stood. It still serves as the central reservoir for the irrigation system today.

The Huntingtons also built their own home at the beach across the Kings Highway from Brookgreen Gardens. They called this sturdy brick structure “Atalya,” which means “watchtower” in Spanish. They patterned it after similar medieval structures along the coast of Spain. Wisely, they heeded the lesson of the Flagg Flood and set their home far enough back from the ocean to avoid any threat from our fall storms.

Cousin Corrie added . . .

Dr. Wardie continued to live in that small house, even after Mr. Huntington created Brookgreen Gardens. He never married and never went out into society, but he welcomed the occasional visitor who stopped into his home.

From time to time, my sister Mamie would carry our mother and me down from Murrells Inlet in her car to visit Dr. Wardie. He loved the figs my mother always brought him from a tree in our yard.

Dr. Wardie looked like a hermit in his later years, with long white hair and a white beard, just like in the photograph. However, he spoke readily and pleasantly with visitors. I remember him as a kindly man who liked to tell stories of the past.

Miss Genevieve concluded the story . . .

In 1938, Dr. Wardie passed away at the age of 77. He was buried with other family members in the cemetery at All Saints Episcopal Church. You can visit their graves there today, along with memorial stones for the ones whose bodies were never recovered.

Dr. Wardie had a funeral like none ever seen here before. At the family’s request, Dr. Wardie’s “good and faithful servant,” Tom Duncan, led the long and impressive funeral procession. Several hundred people, including our governor, attended the service. A large group of local people remained around the grave long into the night, singing spiritual after spiritual to honor their long time friend and physician.

Dr. Wardie had gone at last to join those loved ones he lost forty five years earlier on Friday, the thirteenth of October, 1893, the day of The Flagg Flood.