There was too much going on to
dwell on post-mortems. That night the streets were patrolled by marines
from United States warships in the harbor, whom the government had
hurried to the scene of action with all promptness possible.
No lights nor fires were permitted in houses. It was either retire at
sundown or retire in the dark. Whatever water was needed had to be
carried from the nearest well and even after the mains had been restored
to normal efficiency this practice was continued for fear that the
possibly broken sewers might contaminate or pollute the water. No fires
nor cooking were permitted in any building until every chimney and flue
had been passed upon by the authorities.
In order to obtain water it was necessary first to procure buckets, then
carry it from an old well in Lafayette Square, some dozen blocks away.
Baths were forgotten and shaving was a luxury. It entailed severe labor
to secure water with which to prepare the necessities of life and to
maintain a reasonable degree of personal cleanliness. In common with
every other citizen our stove was placed on the curb and this was our
kitchen and dining room for over six weeks. As there was no oven, baking
and roasting had to be dispensed with, boiling and frying being the
established fashion.
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