BERMUDA HURRICANE

Dominion, Volume 21, Issue 300, 19 September 1928, Page 11

BERMUDA HURRICANE

A SEPTEMBER TERROR (By Everurd Anson.) September in the Islands of Bermuda and the West Indies is tlie hurricane month. Nobody talks of anything else. When spiders weave webs low amongst the cedars .it is a sign that a hurricane will surely visit this collection of coral islets; tlie vast Atlantic rollers are always knocking at the door, the sea is ever near in Bermuda. No wind disturbs the glassy landlocked harbour. The air is stilling with expectant storm. The very insects cease to buzz and drone; all is still and damp and Very hot. The roar of the surf as it breaks on tlie reefs can be heard everywhere. Still no wind blows, all is calm and ominously suffocating. Everyone is tapping the barometer. The hand points to 29.5 at breakfast; by midday it has dropped an inch and goes on falling. Gentle puffs fitfully sweep across the harbour ceasing as abruptly as they started. Thin clouds dim tlie sun. Prudent householders batten down shutters, make fast portable property such as sheds and hencoops. and hope for the best. Anything the hurricane takes will be blown out to sea. Even ships’ propellers weighing several tons and lashed to the quay were blown away in a recent hurricane. Gusts of wind follow one another rapidly, each one stronger than the last, until a burst of tropical ruin blends them into one enormous wind. This mighty wind roars louder than a train in a tunnel; speaking is impossible. The air inside tlie house drones like the lowest organ note, making tlie sound felt, not heard. Squall after squall blasts its way past and the air is full of Hying things. The harbour is a sheet of sliding spray. Rain and spume blow’ across the sky, it is impossible to tell where air begins and water ends. Between the rain squalls it is obvious that all is not well with the shipping in the harbour. Four-masted sailing ships lie helplessly aground, buffeted by waves incredibly large for a small land-locked harbour. Powerful ocean tugs steaming full speed ahead drag anchors on lee shores white with breaking seas. Electric light and telephone lines are down everywhere. All is darkness and confusion. It is touch and go whether our roof blows oil’ and sails away into the night. As the centre of the storm arrives the winds die down, and for a while all is peace. But tlie storm is not over; in half au hour the hurricane rages once again from the opposite quarter in all its fury. These storms cost even a small island £25,000 and leave behind utter confusion. Streets are impassable with broken roofs, drinking water tanks are full of salt water, food is unobtainable, electric wires, dead, gouts, and human beings, too, are all jumbled together amongst the debris. Masons reap rich harvests repairing roofs and rebuilding walls. In the wake of the storm comes glorious weather once again and the inhabitants settle down to peace and plenty till next September,