Nary a wire was there in working order.
You see, Galveston is on a very flat island scarcely one mile wide, and
the only approach at this time was a low railroad bridge, three miles
long. Our wires were strung along the side of that, and at five o'clock
in the morning, every wire was under water, and the force on duty either
swam home or slept on the floor.
That day was about the easiest I ever spent in a telegraph office. There
was a Mexican cable from Galveston to Vera Cruz, but the flood had
washed away their terminals, and for that day, Galveston was entirely
isolated from the world.
Houston, fifty-five miles north, was the first big town adjacent, and as
all our wires ran through there, it was apparent they were having a hot
time doing the relaying all day. They had only a small force, and
evidently the business was delayed. The storm had finally blown itself
out, and at four o'clock Clarke called for volunteers to go to Houston
to help out until our wires came in shape again. The G. H. & H. railroad
people said they thought the water was low enough to permit an engine
to cross the bridge, and in response to Clarke's call eight of us
volunteered to attempt the trip.
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