The Sweetwater Telephone, Thursday, Oct. 11, 1900

CLINE FAMILY'S EXPERIENCE

Thrilling Story Told by Dr. I.M. Cline, United States Weather Observer.

Desperate Efforts to Save Family-Afloat for hours with the children in the terrible storm, after 
their mother was lost.

Perhaps among the many thrilling experiences during the recent hurricane that experienced by the
family of Dr. I.M. Cline of the United States weather bureau is one of the most remarkable.  The
experience of Dr. Cline as related by some friends, among whom was a representative of The
Galveston News, is substantially as follows:

He and his assistants had spent a hard day distributing warnings issued by the United States
Weather bureau.  On account of the threatening condition he went on duty before dawn of day
and the doctor says about 3 p.m. he went home for lunch.  "I found things so serious in my
neighborhood that instead of eating lunch I proceeded to assist my neighbors less securely located
than myself into my residence, which I felt was secure.  Some forty or fifty people were thus
assisted.  I expected that my residence would weather the roughest wind and sea, and the
carpenter who built it came to it, seeking security.  About 6 p.m. Mr. J.L. Cline, my brother, who
had been left with Mr. J.D. Blagden at the weather bureau office to look after matters there, came
to my residence and told me that the barometer had fallen below 29.00, with the wind still
blowing from the northeast, and that fearing for the safety of my family he had come to assist me
in getting them to the center of the city.  At that time, however, things had reached a stage which
it would have been suicidal to have attempted the journey, for the wind was carrying timbers and
housetops through the streets as though they were paper.  I told my brother to take the horse and
to make his way down town and save himself.  He made no reply, but went to my children and
remained with them.  The water rose steadily and rapidly and soon passed above high water mark
of 1875.  We took up carpets and removed paintings and books upstairs.  In a few minutes the
water was coming into the house and was soon almost eight inches deep.  I stood at my front
door and watched the waters rush by in torrents.  Each street was a raging river, carrying floating
houses on its bosom.  Suddenly a very marked rise took place, and I was forced to retire to the
second story.  From here I could see but little except that there were some two or three dozen
houses piled up against my residence to the eastward.  These, with the raging waves, acted as a
battering ram against my house, and made it evident that it would soon be broken to pieces.

My brother took my two oldest girls, aged 10 and 12 years; I took my wife and my baby girl, 6
years old.  We gave and took a parting kiss, for it did not seem possible that any one could
survive the surging waves.  

About 7:30 p.m. the house shifted from its foundation and although 40 feet in length, appeared to
float for a few minutes.  Then suddenly, but slowly, it went from east to west and collapsed.

All was darkness.  A dresser fell and separated my brother and his charges from me and mine.  I,
with my wife and child, were thrown against the mantel, I thought of danger from the falling
chimney, but felt no fear.  In another moment we were pinned down under the water with the
falling timbers.  I felt for an outlet but could not find an opening that I could get my hand through. 
At that time I yielded myself to my creator, and the process of drowning commenced.  The last
reasoning of my mind was to the effect that I would make no effort to avoid drowning, as there
was no hope for escape.

The next thing I remember my head was above water and surging timbers were crushing me about
the chest, and I had hold of my baby, who was out on a piece of the roof of my building
endeavoring to rise.  A plank was across her back.  Another piece of timber was flying toward her
head, and I threw my hand in and caught the blow.  I caught the child in my arms and went back
down among the timbers into the water and searched for my wife, but could find no trace of her,
she did not appear anywhere among the timbers, and I knew she had been taken from me.  I
crawled back on the piece of roof, with my child in my arms, and asked the question of myself, "Is
this all that is left of us?"  In a few minutes, however, I saw three persons crawling across the
drifting and pitching timbers, and in answer to the question, "Who is there?" came back the
answer in familiar, clear, shrill voice: "The Cline children, who are you?"  With an aching heart I
told them of our misfortune, and the brave little darlings said: "Papa, don't cry, mamma is with
Jesus now." My brother had been more fortunate that I had been.   As the house went over, he
saw a window on the east side of the house and broke through it, carrying the two children with
him, out on the side of the house, and escaped being carried under the water.

With the three children and a young woman who had also come out of my house, we began
drifting.  The flying timbers threatened us with destruction, but we shielded ourselves with pieces
of plank, which we place between our backs and the wind.  These planks distributed the force of
the blows, which in many instances would have killed us.  We carried the children in front of us,
and thus protected them.  We drifted two hours without coming in sight of a house or a light, and
during this time my brother picked up a little girl about 7 years old, who was the only person we
had seen since we started drifting.

After we had been drifting probably more than two hours, we came in sight of houses.  The water
was up to their eaves.  The drifting timbers would strike them and they would go to pieces as
though they were blown up by dynamite.  Fragments would fly in every direction.  We were
compelled to change position quickly at times to escape being carried under falling houses.

At 10:30 p.m. we saw a house intact, with a light at the window, which was about fifty yards from
us, and both myself and my brother concluded that we should endeavor to land our charges there. 
My brother would go ahead and I would pass the children to him, and we repeated this operation
until we reached the house.  A window was opened and we were taken in by some most estimable
people, Mr. and Mrs. Kried, at Twenty-eighth and P Streets, just three blocks from where we
started.  We were badly bruised and half frozen, but in all the three hours of horrible drifting
those little children never murmured and obeyed like soldiers.  The children were certainly the
heroines of the hour."