Set in Galveston during the 1900 storm, the most devastating natural disaster in the history of the United States, this sweeping novel follows the fates of several richly drawn characters. And it is the story of Galveston herself, the grand old lady of the Gulf Coast, with her harbor filled with ships from the world over; her Victorian homes and her brothels and her grand pavilions set in their own parks; and her stately mansions along Broadway, the highest ground on the island, at eight feet above sea level. All must face their darkest night now, as nature hurls the worst she can muster at the narrow strip of sand and salt grass that is doomed to become, for a time, part of the ocean floor. This is the story of heroes and villains, of courage and sacrifice and, most of all, of people trying desperately to survive. And it is the story of an era now gone, of splendor and injustice, filled with the simple joy of living. For the first time in hardcover,  The 25th Anniversary Edition  includes a new preface from the author. Praise for Ron Rozelle "Like a stone washed smooth by the sea, Rozelle's language glows in the light and feels good in the hand." — Booklist "Skillful and compassionate writing." — Publisher’s Weekly "Wonderful, absolutely first rate in every way . . . beautifully written with a strong voice."  — Dan Rather  "Spare and understated . . . clear eyed and rendered in limpid praise."  — The Houston Chronicle "Ron Rozelle is a Texas treasure. What he writes is worth reading." — Galveston County Daily News "Rozelle has never written a bad book." — Galveston County Daily News "Using oral histories, contemporary news reports, and legal documents, Rozelle vividly re-creates the tragedy in East Texas." — The Austin American Statesman "Likely to change one’s perspective on life—possibly forever." — The Journal of Southern History "A very human story . . . Rozelle’s account is a well-researched yet eminently readable narrative." — Southwestern Historical Quarterly   "One I’ll gladly pick up and read again." — Huntsville Item "One of the most memorable and uplifting books of the year."  — San Antonio Express News Praise for the 25th Anniversary Edition “The storm of September 8, 1900, remains a pivotal event in local history that continues to influence the lives of residents and tourists.  Each year in May islanders prepare for a hurricane season often reconnecting with readings and images of the storm.  These artifacts of the storm resonate in our heads and remind us of the depth of this historical event.  I often say the 1900 storm was a tragedy and it needs no enhancements to make it a horror as it is still the largest loss of human life of any natural disaster in the US. . . . [Rozelle] carefully intertwines documented storm occurrences with fiction to enhance the narrative and make it seem real. . . . Rozelle’s work remains one of the best stories for those interested in the catastrophic storm of 1900.” — Dwayne Jones , Executive Director, Galveston Historical Foundation -- Dwayne Jones “An extraordinary exploration of an extraordinary event: a monster storm that destroyed Galveston in 1900 and even today has not been surpassed in horror and ruin.” — Margaret George , author of The Confessions of Young Nero -- Margaret George "...wonderful, absolutely first rate in every way. It is beautifully written with a strong voice."  — Dan Rather  -- Dan Rather RON ROZELLE is the author of eleven books of fiction and nonfiction, including the memoir Into that Good Night , a short list finalist for a national PEN prize. He taught English and Creative Writing on the Texas gulf coast for many years and in 2007 was inducted into the Texas Institute of Letters. In 2017 he and his wife Karen, also a retired teacher, live in Houston. Prologue It started raining after midnight. At first a few heavy drops, as large as pebbles, splattered against windows, and spotted the dry pavement of the streets. They plinked into half-full troughs of dirty water outside the saloons on Post Office Street; horses tied there winced against the stings. People inside the saloons-sailors and dock workers and whores-paid no attention to the steadily quickening tattoo being pelted out on the tin sheets or slates of the roofs but kept to the business at hand: the drinking, and gambling, and the sweaty, brief stabbing away at the very oldest of human exertions. Some of Galveston's people, in other parts of the city, listened to the rain from their beds. A few, who had looked up that day at the Levy Building on Market Street and noticed the pair of warning flags that flew from the fourth-floor offices of the Weather Bureau, knew that this was the first, slow calling card of a tropical storm. Isaac Cline, the chief of the bureau, had hoisted the flags on Friday morning, and they had danced and popped in the brisk north wind all day. The red one, with the black box in its middle, meant