I Survived the Galveston Hurricane, 1900

by Lauren Tarshis

  “This is the spot,” Sarah announced, plopping the washtub down. She climbed inside and sat with her legs crossed. Charlie gave the tub a spin, and Sarah whirled around. Charlie floated around on his back while Sarah spun around in the tub.

  After a few minutes, he stood up and looked out at the Gulf. It had probably been churned up during the storm. But it was already calming down. Most days, the water seemed like a big, rippling pond.

  The tub had stopped spinning, and Sarah drifted toward Charlie. She sighed. “Don’t you think it would be fun to have a real ocean?” she said.

  “This is a real ocean,” Charlie said. “The Gulf is part of the Atlantic Ocean.”

  “I know that,” Sarah said, giving Charlie a look. “I meant with big waves we could ride on top of. Like in Hawaii.”

  They’d learned about Hawaii in school. It was a bunch of islands in the Pacific that had just become a territory of the United States. Their teacher had showed them a picture of someone in Hawaii riding on top of a giant wave on a long wooden board.

  Sarah stood up in the tub and held out her arms, like the people in the picture.

  “Look! I’m riding the waves!” she shouted. And then she teetered. “Whoooa!” She plopped into the water with a loud splash.

  Charlie laughed.

  He held out his hand and pulled her to her feet.

  “Look,” she said, giving Charlie a nudge. “There she is.”

  Charlie followed Sarah’s gaze over to three girls from their class last year. His cheeks got hot when he recognized the one in the middle: Rosemary Cline. Charlie had a crush on her, and Sarah knew it.

  Rosemary had one of the best singing voices in their class. Plus, her dad was kind of famous; he was the chief of Galveston’s weather office. He’d come to their class last year to give a talk on weather. It was pretty interesting. He talked about different storms. Sarah asked about the big hurricane that had recently hit Puerto Rico, a big island not so far from Florida.

  They’d all heard about it, of course. Thousands of people were killed. Mama’s church group collected clothes and money to send there.

  “Hurricanes are the most powerful storms in nature,” Mr. Cline had said. “But we never have to worry about a big hurricane hitting Galveston. It’s impossible.”

  Everyone in Galveston knew this — Mr. Cline was always being quoted in the newspaper.

  Charlie looked out at the Gulf now, remembering how Mr. Cline had explained it to them. He said that most big Atlantic Ocean hurricanes follow the same path. They form off the coast of Africa, chug across the Atlantic, then sweep over Florida and the East Coast of the United States.

  “These hurricanes can’t reach Galveston, because the winds will always pull them north,” he said. “And if a powerful storm does enter the Gulf, Galveston can’t be damaged. This part of the Gulf is too shallow for there to be truly powerful waves.”

  Charlie looked at the puny little waves now. It would be fun to have huge waves to ride on. But it was better not to have to worry about hurricanes.

  Sarah gave Charlie a little shove.

  “Go say hi to Rosemary.”

  Charlie shook his head.

  He liked Rosemary. But that didn’t mean he actually wanted to talk to her!

  Plus, the overflow was ending — the water starting to rush back into the Gulf. Soon the streets would be dry, and kids would be building sand castles on the beach.

  The current tugged hard on Charlie’s legs, like it wanted to take him for a ride.

  He hopped into the tub. If he was lucky, he could ride the current all the way from this flooded street, down the beach, and into the Gulf.

  Sarah gave the tub a big heave. It lurched forward, and off Charlie went. Zip! Sarah ran alongside him as he went rushing across the flooded road and down the beach toward the Gulf. He closed his eyes, imagining he was riding a huge Hawaiian wave.

  But before Charlie made it to the Gulf, Sarah screamed out.

  “Charlie! Watch out!”

  Charlie’s eyes popped open. Was there a snake somewhere? That was one bad thing about overflows — underground creatures sometimes got washed into the streets or onto the beach.

  Mostly they were harmless bullfrogs and garter snakes. But last year a kid playing in an overflow got bitten by a water moccasin. The kid was lucky because the snake was pretty small and his friends got him to the hospital quick.

  Charlie looked up, and his blood turned cold. It was not a snake.

  It was something much worse.

  Gordon Potts.

  He was standing in Charlie’s path. In his hands he gripped an enormous branch. The pointy tip was aimed right at Charlie’s chest.

  A hot streak of fear shot through Charlie as he threw himself to one side. The move tipped over the washtub, dumping Charlie into the water. With a sickening clang, one of the washtub handles smacked Charlie right in the mouth.

  He gagged as blood and salt water rushed down his throat.

  He came up coughing and sputtering. He struggled to his feet, and Sarah took him by the arm. His eyes stung, and everything was a blur.

  “Stop blubbering,” Gordon taunted. “You’re so weak!”

  Then he broke out in his high, earsplitting cackle.

  Haw! Haw! Haw!

  Haw! Haw! Haw!

  Was this really funny to him? Charlie bleeding and choking?

  “Hey, Gordon, come on!” another kid shouted. And Gordon disappeared.

  Sarah led Charlie away from the water and off the beach. The water was all gone, leaving behind a mucky soup. They headed back toward Charlie’s house.

  Charlie’s whole mouth throbbed. To his amazement — and relief — all his teeth were still attached. His bottom lip felt nasty. It was split and swollen.

  Sarah didn’t say anything as they walked along the crowded sidewalk. And when she finally looked at Charlie, her eyes didn’t have their usual gleam.

  “Gordon could have —” Her voice cracked. “He could have really hurt you, Charlie.”

  Charlie pictured that huge, pointed stick. Sarah was right.

  Just then, he noticed an old man in a worn green hat hobbling toward them on the sidewalk. It was Mr. Early, one of Grandpa’s friends. Charlie ducked his head down; he didn’t want Mr. Early to see him this way.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Charlie saw Mr. Early look right at him. But somehow the old man didn’t recognize him. Probably because Charlie’s face was so battered and bloody. He must look like he’d been kicked by a horse.

  A lump grew in Charlie’s throat, but he managed to fight back his tears. Why did Gordon pick on him?

  He’d never done anything to Gordon — or to anyone! He wasn’t a show-off or a teacher’s pet. He never chased girls around the playground or tried to push his way into marbles games. Charlie was just … Charlie. Except for Sarah, nobody even really noticed him. It was true that he sometimes wished they did, that he got invited to birthday parties, that girls like Rosemary Cline would choose him as a square-dance partner.

  But he was fine keeping mostly to himself.

  What did he do to make Gordon suddenly hate him so much?

  Over and over, Charlie had searched his mind for reasons. And he always came back to one night last May. Charlie had been out for an after-supper walk with Mama, Papa, and Lulu.

  Mama and Lulu were softly singing a song, and Papa and Charlie were laughing over some dumb joke they’d shared. In fact, they were laughing so hard people they passed were shooting them strange looks. This happened all the time.

  “Can you two please have a little less fun?” Mama had said. But she was smiling, too.

  As they were passing an expensive restaurant, a fancy-looking man and a woman came out onto the sidewalk. A boy was trailing behind them, and the man was scolding him.

  “I won’t tolerate this!”

  Charlie realized it was Mr. and Mrs. Potts — and Gordon. Charlie wasn’t surprised that Gordon was in trouble with his father.
Gordon was rude to everyone — even their teacher. And people said Mr. Potts was pretty nasty himself. Papa had done some carpentry work in his office. “That guy screams at everyone!” he’d said.

  But Mrs. Potts was sweet. She and Mama had become friends when they worked together at church to collect clothes to send to Puerto Rico. Mama had even gone to the Pottses’ house for lunch. They lived in one of the big mansions lined up along Broadway.

  “They have electricity in every room,” she’d told Charlie and Papa later.

  At Charlie’s house, they still used kerosene lanterns.

  “They have a telephone, too!”

  Charlie’s family didn’t have one of those either. Papa said those were just silly toys, a waste of money.

  “They’ll never catch on,” he’d said.

  But Mama had kept the best part for last. “They have a toilet … that flushes!”

  Even Papa was impressed with that. Charlie’s family still used their privy, a little shack a few feet outside the back door of their house. Inside was a hole in the ground, with a wooden seat on top.

  It wasn’t too bad, except for hot days in the summer. And the time Charlie opened the door and there were two raccoons inside.

  On that night outside the restaurant, Mrs. Potts had smiled and waved, and Mr. Potts had said a gruff hello.

  “I hope you’ll come over again soon!” Mrs. Potts had called to Mama. “Please drop by anytime. I’m still dreaming about those gingersnaps you brought!”

  Charlie had noticed that Gordon ignored them all. But that wasn’t unusual. Gordon had never paid any attention to Charlie.

  Until the very next day, when it all started. Gordon glared at Charlie. Shoved him on the way out of recess. Pelted him with spitballs. Each day was a little worse.

  Sarah convinced Charlie to tell their teacher. The day after that, Gordon called to Charlie.

  “Hey! I have a friend for you!”

  Charlie looked over.

  Thud. Something hit him in the stomach — a dead rat. A big, rotting rodent crawling with maggots.

  Luckily school ended the next day, and Gordon disappeared from Galveston.

  Charlie shivered now as he and Sarah walked along, even though the sun was blasting down. Sarah looped her arm through Charlie’s.

  Charlie had hoped Gordon would forget about him over the summer.

  Obviously he was wrong.

  Charlie opened his eyes and heard Lulu screaming.

  “The cloud monster! The cloud monster!”

  He looked out the window, and a hideous green cloud was swirling in the sky. All of a sudden, it twisted into a giant face. A giant, sneering face … a face Charlie recognized.

  “Aaaaaaaahhhh!” Charlie screamed.

  And then everything went dark. Charlie’s heart pounded. Where was Lulu? Why was it suddenly so quiet? And wait. Where was he?

  In bed, he realized. He’d had a nightmare. Charlie put his hand on his chest and took a deep breath.

  This is bad, he thought.

  Gordon had tormented him at school. At the beach … and now in his dreams!

  Charlie got out of bed and took deep breaths. He glanced in the mirror above his dresser. Even in the dim light of the moon, Charlie could see his swollen lip in the reflection. He didn’t look like Charles the Great. He looked like Charles the Ugly.

  Charles the Scared.

  Charles the Weak.

  A few tears slipped out. He wiped them away. Enough, he told himself.

  He sat down on his bed, switched on his lantern, and reached for Meraki’s book.

  Reading about Meraki’s life always made him feel better. He’d had a rough time, too, and look at him! The most famous magician in the world.

  One of the best chapters was near the end, when Meraki was kidnapped by two men. Charlie settled back on his pillow and started to read.

  I was walking home from a show, enjoying the night, and two men stopped me. They both had guns, and they ordered me to walk with them to a filthy building.

  I figured out very quickly that they did not want my money. They had been sent by my enemy. He’s a magician named Thedo the Powerful. For years he’d been trying to steal the secret of my most popular trick: The Floating Woman. It had taken me years to create that trick. It was my treasure.

  Thedo had sent spies to my shows in the past. They’d broken into my hotel rooms looking for the sketches of how the trick was done. And now he’d sent these brutes.

  The men took me to a small room, sat me down at a table, and shoved a notebook in front of me.

  “Write it down,” the taller of the men demanded.

  “A magician never reveals his secrets!” I replied.

  “Tell us or we’ll shoot you,” the other man said.

  I almost gave up. I picked up the pencil and began to draw the trick. But then a voice whispered through my mind — my own voice.

  You have power.

  But what power could that be? I wondered. These men were very strong. They both had guns. And then it came to me: my magic skills.

  I could use magic to trick them. To scare them into letting me go. I thought hard, and somehow came up with a plan.

  Luckily I always carried a few small props with me — cards, some coins, and a small vial of red liquid called magic blood. The vial was made of the thinnest glass. It was meant to be easily broken during a trick, and the shards would disappear into dust.

  I stood up. “I was raised by a family of snake charmers,” I said to the men. (This was not true, of course, but the men didn’t know that.)

  “I was bitten by cobras many times,” I continued. (In fact I had been bitten only once by a cobra, while visiting a village in India.)

  “The venom gave me powers,” I told the men. (Quite the opposite, that cobra bite had nearly killed me.)

  “And now, if you do not let me go, I will use my cobra powers to take all of the blood from your bodies. Every drop.”

  I used a low, rasping voice. I flicked my tongue several times in a snakelike way. I swayed my body slightly, as a cobra does when it rises from a snake charmer’s basket. I rolled my eyes up into my head so that only the whites showed.

  The men looked at each other in confusion. And here was my chance. I snuck my hand into my pocket and grabbed the fake blood. Keeping it hidden in my hand, I reached up to the taller man’s head, right next to his ear. I squeezed the vial so it cracked. The magic blood sprayed onto the man’s face, the wall, and the ceiling. It was a gruesome show.

  The men ran screaming from the room. I rushed to the police.

  Thedo never bothered me again.

  My floating woman trick was safe.

  Charlie slowly closed the book. His whole body tingled.

  You have power. It was like Meraki’s voice was whispering inside his head.

  And that’s when it came to Charlie — he could trick Gordon like Meraki had tricked his kidnappers.

  Charlie lay there for hours thinking, turning ideas over and over in his mind.

  By morning, he had his plan. He’d need a few days to prepare.

  But soon, everything was going to change.

  “Doing anything exciting today?” Papa asked Charlie, peering up over the newspaper.

  Lulu was stuffing a pancake into her mouth, and Mama was sipping her coffee. They all looked at Charlie.

  “I’m going to the Pagoda,” Charlie said, which wasn’t a lie. That’s where he’d find Gordon on a Saturday morning, for sure. Of course, Mama and Papa had no idea what Charlie actually planned to do today.

  Neither did Sarah. She definitely wouldn’t approve of his plan. Luckily she and her family had gone to Houston for the weekend. Sarah was now fifty miles away.

  “Thank goodness it’s cooler today,” Mama said, sliding another pancake onto Lulu’s plate. Yesterday had been brutal, one of the hottest days of the summer.

  Papa nodded. “Seems like the temperature dropped ten degrees before the sun came up.”


  “Speaking of sunrise,” Mama said, eyeing Charlie. “What got you out of bed so early?”

  Charlie gulped. He had been up early, but he hadn’t thought Mama or Papa had heard him.

  “Um, I …” Think fast. “I just needed a drink of water. Then I went back to sleep.”

  He couldn’t tell them the real reason: He’d crept into the kitchen to get some cockroaches. Dead ones. He needed them for the trick that was going to terrify Gordon Potts into leaving him alone.

  Finding cockroaches in Galveston was never a problem — they were everywhere, even in Mama’s spotless kitchen. Charlie quickly found three dead ones under the stove. He had them in his pocket now, tucked inside a box.

  Papa put his newspaper down on the table. “Well, it’s a good thing we’re not in Florida. Says here in the weather report there’s a very bad storm there.”

  “A storm?” Lulu said, her eyes suddenly wide.

  “No, darling,” Mama said, shooting Papa her don’t scare Lulu look.

  “Not anywhere near here,” Papa said, giving Lulu’s cheek a gentle pat. “We might just get a little rain.”

  Charlie leaned over and read the weather report for Galveston.

  Rain Saturday and Sunday. Some winds from the north.

  Papa was telling Lulu the truth. No storms today. Which was a relief. Because a storm would keep Gordon away from the Pagoda — and ruin Charlie’s plan.

  An hour later, Charlie was on his way to the beach. Eyeing the cloudy sky, Charlie decided it definitely looked like rain. But anything was better than yesterday’s sticky heat.

  As usual, the street was packed. But Charlie barely noticed. In his mind, he was going through his trick. He’d spent hours working it out, practicing over and over in the mirror. He felt like Meraki, rehearsing for a big show.

  He’d stalk Gordon, stride up to him, and stare right into his eyes.

  “Gordon Potts,” he’d say, in a low, steady voice. “Did you know it’s possible to put a cockroach into a person’s skull? It’s an ancient trick I’ve mastered.”