Isaac's Storm (33 page)

JOSEPH
LEFT
FOR
the
house
an
hour
or
so
after
Isaac,
and
arrived
about
5:30
P.M.
The
water
was
by
then
waist
deep,
Joseph
said.

Neck
deep,
Isaac
said.

Joseph
was
amazed
to
find
that
fifty
people
from
the
neighborhood
had
taken
shelter
in
the
house,
including
whole
familes
and
the
contractor
who
had
built
the
house.
"He
knew
better
than
anyone,"
Joseph
said,
"that
its
construction
was
of
the
finest
and
strongest
materials,
as
my
brother
intended
it
to
withstand
the
worst
wind
that
ever
blew."

Even
so,Joseph
did
not
trust
it.
The
storm
was
worse
than
anything
Galveston
had
ever
experienced.
Evacuate,Joseph
urged.
Stay,
Isaac
insisted.

TELEGRAM
 

Houston,
Texas
 

7:37
P.M.

Sept.
9,1900

To:
Willis
Moore,

Chief,
U.S.
Weather
Bureau

Washington,
D.
C.

We
have
been
absolutely
unable
to
hear
a
word
from
Galveston
since
4
P.M.
Yesterday...
 

G.
L.
Vaughan,

Manager

Western
Union,
Houston
 

AUGUST
ROLLFING
FOUGHT
his
way
back
into
the
city.
With
each
step
the
water
seemed
to
rise
higher
up
his
legs,
but
that
was
impossible
—
nothing
could
make
the
sea
rise
so
quickly.
The
storm
was
much
worse
than
it
had
been
on
his
way
home.
Now
and
then
powerful
gusts
scraped
squares
of
slate
from
nearby
rooftops
and
launched
them
into
the
air
as
if
they
were
autumn
leaves.
He
saw
whole
families
moving
slowly
toward
the
center
of
the
city,
everyone
leaning
against
the
wind.
Broadway
was
a
river
of
refugees.
Suddenly
Louisa's
desire
to
escape
the
beach
did
not
seem
so
crazy.

Rollfing
walked
to
a
livery
stable,
Malloy's,
and
there
hired
a
driver
and
buggy
and
sent
them
to
his
address
with
orders
to
pick
up
Louisa
and
the
children
and
take
them
to
his
mother's
house
in
the
city's
West
End.
He
believed
it
a
far
safer
neighborhood,
perhaps
because
it
was
many
blocks
from
the
ocean
beaches
at
the
east
and
south
edges
of
the
city.
Apparently
he
did
not
take
into
account
the
fact
that
the
bay
was
only
ten
blocks
north
of
his
mother's
home.
The
wind
was
still
blowing
from
the
north
over
the
long
fetch
of
Galveston
Bay,
and
with
each
increase
in
velocity
drove
more
water
into
the
city.
Rollfing
went
to
his
shop.

At
one
o'clock,
the
buggy
pulled
up
in
front
of
the
family's
house
at
18th
and
Avenue
O1/2.
Louisa
was
overjoyed.
She
raced
through
the
house
collecting
shoes
and
a
change
of
clothing
for
everyone,
and
packed
these
in
a
large
hamper,
but
once
the
driver
and
her
children
and
she
had
all
climbed
aboard,
she
realized
there
simply
was
no
room
left.
She
had
to
leave
the
hamper
behind.

She
held
Atlanta
Anna
in
her
arms.
The
driver
set
off
for
the
West
End,
no
doubt
first
driving
north
toward
the
slightly
higher
ground
at
the
center
of
the
city,
then
due
west.
"It
was
a
terrible
trip,"
Louisa
said.
"We
could
only
go
slowly
for
the
electric
wires
were
down
everywhere,
which
made
it
dangerous...
The
rain
was
icy
cold
and
hurt
our
faces
like
glass
splinters,
and
little
'Lanta'
cried
all
along
the
way.
I
pressed
her
litde
face
hard
against
my
breast,
so
she
would
not
be
hurt
so
badly.
August
and
Helen
didn't
cry,
they
never
said
a
word."

The
driver
dodged
other
storm
refugees
and
great
masses
of
floating
wreckage.
Judging
by
the
quantity,
whole
houses
must
have
come
apart.
The
sky
was
so
dark,
it
looked
as
if
dusk
had
arrived
half
a
day
early.

"We
got
as
far
as
40th
Street
and
Ave.
H,
just
one
block
from
Grandma,"
Louisa
said.
"The
water
was
so
high,
we
just
sat
in
it,
the
horse
was
up
to
his
neck
in
water."

The
driver
turned
onto
40th
Street.
Someone
shouted
for
the
buggy
to
stop.
"Don't
go!
You
can't
go
through."
The
water
was
too
deep,
the
caller
said
—
there
was
a
large
hole
ahead
filled
with
water.

The
driver
turned
the
buggy
around,
and
asked
Louisa,
"Where
shall
I
go
now?"

Louisa,
in
a
nearly
submerged
carriage
with
three
young
children,
was
at
a
loss.
"I
don't
know,"
she
said.

It
came
to
her
then:
August's
sister,Julia,
and
her
husband,Jim,
lived
in
a
house
at
36th
and
Broadway,
just
six
blocks
back
toward
the
city.
The
driver
gendy
eased
his
horse
back
along
Avenue
H,
against
the
flow
of
water
and
refugees.

When
Julia
saw
Louisa
and
the
children,
drenched
and
windblown,
she
was
shocked.
"My
God,
Louisa,
what
is
the
matter?"

Clearly
Julia
knew
nothing
of
the
damage
along
the
beach.
Louisa
quickly
described
conditions
in
the
East
End
and
how
the
West
End
too
was
underwater.
She
paid
the
Mallory's
driver
a
dollar
and
made
him
promise
to
tell
his
boss,
Mr.
Mallory,
their
new
destination
so
that
Mal-lory
could
pass
the
message
on
to
August.

"I
was
so
confident
that
August
would
go
there,"
she
said,
"but
he

didn't."

AT
ABOUT
TWO
o'clock
Galveston
time,
in
the
midst
of
Louisa's
drive,
the
wind
shifted.
Until
then
the
wind
had
blown
consistently
from
the
north,
the
weaker
left
flank
of
the
hurricane.
Now
the
wind
circled
to
the
northeast
and
gained
intensity.
Isaac
noticed
the
change,
but
most
people,
including
Louisa,
did
not.
They
were
too
busy
seeking
shelter
or
had
battened
themselves
within
their
homes.
The
stories
Louisa
told
her
hosts
of
what
she
had
seen
on
her
journey
frightened
them.
With
Louisa's
help,
they
began
bracing
the
windows
and
doors.
They
nailed
an
ironing
board
across
a
window.
A
neighbor
came
over
with
her
two
children
seeking
shelter
or
company
and
brought
the
total
number
of
people
in
the
house
to
ten.
They
closed
all
the
upstairs
doors
and
gathered
on
the
stairway.
They
had
a
pitcher
of
water
and
a
lantern.
Soon
they
heard
the
shattering
of
windows
and
blinds
in
the
bedrooms
behind
the
doors
they
had
just
closed.
"It
sounded,"
Louisa
said,
"as
if
the
rooms
were
filled
with
a
thousand
little
devils,
shrieking
and

whistling."

She
watched
quietly
as
Julia
and
Jim's
piano
slid
from
one
downstairs

wall
to
another,
then
back.

Sam
Young
 

AT
TWO
O'CLOCK
in
the
afternoon,
Dr.
Young
started
back
to
his
house
at
the
northeast
corner
of
Bath
and
P1/2,
one
block
north
of
Isaac
Cline's
house
and
adjacent
to
the
Bath
Avenue
Public
School.
Thinking
his
family
safe
in
San
Antonio,
he
prepared
for
the
storm's
arrival
—
prepared,
that
is,
to
enjoy
it,
and
savor
every
destructive
impulse.
Young
was
a
member
of
that
class
of
mostly
landlocked
men
who
believed
God
put
storms
on
earth
expressly
for
their
entertainment.

Young's
yard
was
a
plateau
of
land
five
feet
above
sea
level,
yet
by
the
time
he
got
home
he
found
the
yard
under
two
feet
of
water.
This
did
not
trouble
him,
for
he
had
seen
high
water
before.
He
took
a
chair
on
his
gallery
and
watched
the
storm.
The
water
rose
gradually
and
soon
began
to
climb
the
stairs
toward
him.
Even
this
did
not
worry
him.
"My
house,
a
large
two-story
frame
building,
stood
on
brick
pillars
about
four
feet
high,"
he
said,
"so
I
had
no
fear
of
the
water
coming
into
my
house."

A
young
black
boy
worked
for
Young
as
a
valet.
Young
sent
him
home,
then
began
closing
shutters
and
windows
and
securing
doors,
intent
mainly
on
getting
these
tasks
done
before
nightfall.

Around
four
o'clock,
he
began
to
see
that
he
had
been
wrong
about
the
water.
Two
feet
now
covered
his
ground
floor,
and
the
level
was
still
rising
—
not
gradually,
anymore,
but
rapidly.
Visibly.
Like
water
flowing
into
a
bathtub.

Young
had
noticed
the
change
in
wind
direction.
"The
wind
had
hauled
further
to
the
east
and
was
blowing
at
a
terrific
rate."
The
shift
accounted
for
the
more-rapid
increase
in
depth,
Young
knew.
Galveston
sat
astride
a
portion
of
Texas
coasdine
canted
forty-five
degrees
toward
the
northeast.
All
morning
the
north
wind
had
impeded
the
progress
of
the
incoming
storm
tide,
causing
water
literally
to
pile
up
in
the
Gulf.
Now,
with
the
wind
blowing
from
the
northeast,
a
portion
of
that
pent-up
tide
—
but
by
no
means
the
bulk
of
it
—
began
to
come
ashore.
The
wind
blowing
southwest
along
the
Texas
coast
pushed
the
sea
into
Galveston's
East
Side.

More
fascinated
than
appalled,
Young
moved
a
chair
to
a
second-floor
window
and
watched
the
water
as
it
flowed
along
Avenue
P1/2
(He
makes
no
mention
of
seeing
Isaac
Cline
or
Joseph
struggling
home,
although
the
last
block
of
their
journeys
would
have
been
within
his
view.)
The
water
moved
fastest
at
the
center
of
the
street
where
the
high
curbs
channeled
the
water
and
vastly
increased
its
velocity,
just
like
the
narrow
pipes
used
by
city
water
systems
to
increase
water
pressure.
The
street
had
become
a
causeway
for
wreckage.
Young
saw
boxes,
barrels,
carriages,
cisterns,
outhouses,
and
small
shacks.
He
watched
one
barrel
hold
its
course
all
the
way
down
the
street.
"The
flow,"
he
saw,
"was
almost
exactly
east
to
west."