Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1879-04-17
A Hurricane at the Mauritius.

A Hurricane AT the Mauritius.
The first warnings are an excessive
heat, and an atmosphere so oppressive
as to lead one almost to believe some
unknown agency is at work against hu-
man existence; fever strikes with dead
ly viruience; the rays of the sun are
scorching, and the air is so overcharged
with electricity as to make men and an
imals alike feel uncomfortable Then
come few ragged clouds driven wildly
across the coppery sky, the barometer
falls rapidly, and an awful stiffness per-
vades everything. The birds flutter
in the thickest woods, the mules start
and sniff the air, the Indians tie up their
heads and hurry away to their huts. Not
leaf is stirring, all nature seems in
state of horrid expectancy. Then comes
sudden gust, which whistles past,
bending the aloes and palm trees nearly
double, and leaving them trembling in
the still calm which follow. More dri-
wing clouds, gray and leaden, creep up
from the leaden sea, and sweep swiftly
past, their ragged edges blown into
wisps which catch and tangle with each
other till the sky is covered with them.
The roar of the gusts is more frequent,
the sky seems to have descended like a
roof upon the land. Long since the
harbor master has been busy with the
shipping. Top-gallant-masts must be
struck by all ships in port during the
hurricane months; now yards and top
masts are sent down with a run, cables
are put out, and each tier of vessels Sc
curely lashed together. Ships at the
roadstead slip their cables and put to sea
to fight it out as best they can; some,
profting by the rules laid down in order
to avoid cyclones, escape-some are new
er heard of again. Another gust, in
creasing in force, and the second gun is
fired from the fort as a signal for the
trains to cease running, and for all pru-
dent people to get home. Shutters are
closed, windows and doors barricaded,
and the town resembles city of the
dead. A few policemen and an odd
straggler are all the living things to be
SEEN Gust now succeeds gust, the roar
ing of the wind is louder than thunder,
and it is difficult to make the voice
heard inside a house. Rain falls in
sheets, the roads are flooded, the rivers
are mere cataracts of milk-colored water,
the canes toss wildly like live creatures
in great agony, forest trees bend double,
and their branches crack and fly bodily
away, the air is filled with driving
boughs, leaves, tiles, roofs. wisps of hay,
and other debris; houses are torn from
their foundations and carried far away:
balks of timber and blocks of stone
weighing many hundred weight are roll
ed over. Between the gusts is dead
calm, in which the hiss of the rain and
the roar of the departing gust sound
painfully distinct. Dry earth has dis
appeared under a sheet of water dashed
and driven into spray, and again beaten
fiat by the ever descending rain. The
surface of the sea is torn up into curious
spiral columns revolving with great We
locity. Every now and then the sun
will shine out for few seconds with
ghastly glare, and then the clouds drop
down again, and darkness comes to hide
up the cruel wreck. The people in the
houses gather round the lamp in the
dryest room, and listen fearfully as each |
fresh blast threatens to bring the whole |
structure about their ears. Sleep is al
most impossible, cooking there is none,
clothes are saturated with the moisture
which drives in through every crevice,
and spirits are at their lowest with the
thought of the havoc going on outside.
Magazine.