y
head, and a cape of the same material covered my shoulders.

People living in tents when the storm began--and there were
thousands--had been washed out, or been obliged to leave them, and could
not get their own meals. The "Star" swarmed with hundreds who had never
been there before, as well as those in the habit of coming. Ten days
passed. Sometimes there would be a lull in the storm for a few hours and
we hoped it was over, but the surf ran high and could not return before
the wind again lashed it into fury.

One midnight, when I was sleeping soundly after an unusually hard day's
duties in the kitchen, there came a hasty knock at my door.

"Let me in quick Mrs. Sullivan, the warehouse, we fear, is going. We
must come in here. We will bring some more of our things," and little
sister dropped the armful of clothing she carried and ran back for more.

Sure enough, as I looked, the water surged up under the warehouse to the
foot of the steps. When she returned with another load I offered to
dress and assist them, but she said they would only bring the clothing
and bedding, and I better go back to bed.

Breathlessly the sisters worked for a time, until the tide prevented
them from again entering the warehouse, and they made their bed near me
on the floor. When, after watching the waters, they felt satisfied that
they receded, they retired, weary and troubled, hoping that before
another high tide the storm would have subsided and the danger would be
past.

By September twelfth the surf was the worst we had ever seen it, and
Snake River had overflowed its banks. Most of those on the Sandspit were
obliged to flee for their lives. Hundreds were homeless on the streets.
The town's whole water-front was washed away. Tents not only went down
by hundreds, but buildings of every description were swept away and
flung by the angry surf high up on the sands.

Anchored lighters and barges were loosened from their moorings and came
ashore, as did schooners broken and disabled. Dead bodies were each day
picked up on the beach, which was strewn with wreckage.

One dark night, when the rain had ceased for a time to give place to a
fearful gale which tossed the maddened waters higher and higher, there
appeared upon the horizon a dim, portentous shape. At first it was only
a form, indistinct and uncertain. As we watched longer, it gradually
assumed the semblance of a ship. Keen eyes soon discerned a huge, black
hulk, of monstrous