Isaac's Storm: Part IV

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.

"Being entirely alone, with no responsibility on me, I felt satisfied and very complacent, for I was fool enough not to be the least afraid of wind or water."

Lumber ricocheted among the walls of the hallway outside the bath.

It was when the current caught them and swept them away that the violence occurred, with bedrooms erupting in a tumult of flying glass and wood, rooftops soaring through the air like monstrous kites.

The conversation starts quietly but soon, partly because their tempers rise, partly just to be heard over the wind, rain, and barrage of debris, they start shouting.

In Galveston harbor, the first mate of the English steamer Comino, moored at Pier 14, recorded in the ship's log a pressure of 28.30 inches, and noted: "Wind blowing terrific, and steamer bombarded with large pieces of timber, shells, and all manner of flying debris from the surrounding buildings."

A storm's trajectory can also increase the destructive power of a surge.

The house shuddered, shifted, became buoyant.

Moments later he too careened toward the Ursuline convent, but his door got caught in a large whirlpool of water and wreckage.

"As the house capsized, I seized the hand of each of my brother's two children, turned my back toward the window, and, lunging from my heels, smashed through the glass and the wooden storm shutters, still gripping the hands of the two youngsters."

"The momentum hurled us all through the window as the building, with seeming deliberation, settled far over. It rocked a bit and then rose fairly level on the surface of the flood."

She bled heavily from head lacerations.

He felt only square shapes, planks, serrated edges.

He was elated; he was distraught.

He was elated; he was distraught.