The Great Galveston Disaster / Containing a Full and Thrilling Account of the Most Appalling Calamity of Modern Times Including Vivid Descriptions of the Hurricane and Terrible Rush of Waters; Immense Destruction of Dwellings, Business Houses, Churches, and Loss of Thousands of Human Lives; Thrilling Tales of Heroic Deeds; Panic-Stricken Multitudes and Heart-Rending Scenes of Agony; Frantic Efforts to Escape a Horrible Fate; Separation of Loved Ones, etc., etc.; Narrow Escapes from the Jaws of Death; Terrible Sufferings of the Survivors; Vandals Plundering Bodies of the Dead; Wonderful Exhibitions of Popular Sympathy; Millions of Dollars Sent for the Relief of the Stricken Sufferers

by Paul Lester

PERILS OF A RELIEF TRAIN.

One of the passengers on the first relief train that went out of Houston on Saturday evening, during the prevalence of the storm, to bring the people in from La Porte and Seabrook, gives the following description of the trip:

“Little did we know what trials were before us as we started out for La Porte and Seabrook at 8 o’clock on that fatal Saturday night. But we did know our loved ones were in danger, and with a brave volunteer crew in charge of the train, and trusting to the good God above to care for us, we started, hoping for the best.

“The first obstacle that impeded our progress was a pine tree of about two feet in diameter across the track. This was soon cut in two and we journeyed along, the wind almost blowing the train off the track. We had gone only a few miles further when we collided with two box cars that had been blown from the switch to the main track.

“After a considerable delay we started again, engine crippled, and everybody wet as water could make them. At Pasadena we took on board several men, ladies and children, who had been standing waist deep in water for several hours. Soon Deep Water was reached. Here two ladies got off and were carried to the residence of Mr. W. E. Jones. The train had just started again when the depot blew away, part of it against our train, breaking the windows and blinds of the coach and throwing glass all over us. Luckily no one was hurt.

“We had now been three hours coming twelve miles, and we all began to grow more uneasy. It was at this point where we first felt or knew what a storm we were in. The coaches rocked like cradles, windows blew in, and it seemed that we would be blown away ourselves. After two hours more we reached East La Porte. There most of our companions left us to look for their people. It did not seem that anyone could live in that storm—the wind must have been blowing 100 miles an hour. But our friends knew that they were needed at their homes, and they launched out. Some to be blown back to us, only to try it over again; others to be blown in the mud and water.