“If you are in the right quadrant and far enough from the vortex, or storm center, though it will control the winds in your vicinage, cloudless and rainless weather may easily be your lot. And this was our experience, for the cyclone at 8 A. M. was central over Quebec, whither it had traversed from Des Moines, Iowa, over 1200 miles, in a direct line, northeast from where it was central on Tuesday morning the 11th, at 8 o’clock.
TERRIBLE VELOCITY OF WIND.
“The rate at which it made this jump, taking in the lakes in passing, was at the speed of fifty miles an hour, while the cyclonic winds kept blowing into the centre at a velocity of seventy miles an hour. That these two motions have nothing in common is shown by the fact that on Saturday, when the vertical velocities were at their height, ninety-six miles from the northeast and 100 from the southeast at Galveston, the cyclone was moving on its track from the Gulf to the interior of Texas at the sluggish pace of ten and one-half miles an hour. It was this slow rate which had prevailed ever since August 5 that accentuated all the evils of the rotary circulation, for as the centre passed slowly over Galveston it gave the cyclonic winds full opportunity to pile up the waters and buffet and wreck the buildings.
“Fortunately we were over 400 miles from the vortex, and, though we were within the sphere of its southern winds, they merely proved an annoyance through the excessive dust and were not disastrous. On the New England coast, as well as over the lakes, the winds were stiffer, and we are yet to hear the full story of the cyclone’s journey from gulf to gulf. Meteorologically, it is now a closed record, so far as the United States goes, but, unfortunately for Galveston, the horror of the visitation grows as access to the stricken town reveals the full extent of the devastation.”
CHAPTER VI.
Two Survivors Give Harrowing Details of the Awful Disaster—Hundreds Eager to Get Out of Galveston. Clearing up the Wreckage.
Alexander and Stanley G. Spencer, the two sons of Stanley G. Spencer, of Philadelphia, who was killed in Galveston, reached Philadelphia Monday afternoon, the 17th. Mrs. Spencer was to come north later when their affairs in the stricken city are settled, and would bring the body of Mr. Spencer, which was embalmed and placed in a metallic coffin in a vault in Galveston.
The two boys left Galveston at 9 o’clock Friday morning. It took them until 3.30 in the afternoon to reach Houston, which is only about fifty miles distant from Galveston. “All the society ladies of Houston met the train,” said Alexander, the older of the two boys. “They brought clothes and food for the people.”
The boys told a remarkable story of their experiences during the flood. “Storm warnings were sent out on Friday,” said Alexander, “but nobody paid much attention to them; only a little blow was expected. This did not come until Saturday afternoon. It first started with a chilly wind. Things looked rather dark and hazy and black, rapidly moving clouds sped by. Papa had finished work at the office and was getting ready to come home, when he received a telegram from the North telling him to meet Mr. Lord, with whom he was to conduct business relative to the buying of property.
“Papa telephoned us that he would not be home for several hours on account of this business. That is why we were not worried about him. He and Mr. Lord met in Ritter’s cafe, and it was there that he was killed. He was sitting on a desk, with his hands clasped over his head, a favorite position of his, talking to Mr. Lord and a Greek, named Marcleitis.
“Ritter’s cafe was in a strongly-built brick building, which was thought to be very safe, but, unfortunately, it was at the foot of a short street leading to the wharf. This gave the wind from the Gulf full sweep against it. There were several other men in the cafe, and one of them said: ‘Why, did you all know there are just thirteen people in this room?’ Papa laughed, and remarked that he was not superstitious. Just then the crash came, killing five out of the thirteen. In the floor above the cafe was a large printing establishment. A beam hurled down by the weight of the presses above struck papa, killing him instantly. His body was dug out of the ruins Sunday afternoon by about a hundred friends, and his was the first funeral in Galveston.”