t's the swash we hear?" I asked.

He got out of bed, limped over to the window, opened the blinds, looked
a minute and then yelled:

"Good Lord! the whole town is under water, and we are floating."

It needed but a glance to convince me that he spoke part truth. There we
were surrounded on all sides by water, but the house was still on its
foundation.

"Water, water, everywhere
Nor any drop to drink."

On account of the sandy nature of the soil on Galveston Island, most of
the houses were built up on piles, and the water was gently slopping all
over the first floor of our habitation. The streets were flowing waist
high, and filled with floating debris of all kinds;--beer kegs, boards,
doors, and tables _ad lib_. The wind soon began to quiet down, and when
our first fright was over we had a high old time swimming and splashing
around in the water. It's a great city that will bring salt water
bathing right up to the doors of its houses.

After a very skimpy breakfast, four of us made a raft, and paddled and
pushed it down to the office. 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. After reaching the mainland we would be
all right, but there was that confounded three mile bridge to cross. We
boarded engine 341, with Dad Duffy at the throttle, and at four-fifteen
he pulled out. Wat