The Hurricane of 1933

The Event
The Hurricane of 1933
by Mary (May) Flynn

“Mama, can Mont and I go swimming now, we’ve finished our chores?” “Yes, but don’t stay in the sun too long, and be back in time for lunch.” I knew that’s what she would say, if she didn’t have anything else for us to do, we always spent the morning in the water. But, before we left I asked her if she had heard Mr. Riddick had told Bob, he would let him take the boat to the gulf sometime soon. “Yes, the girls did mention it this morning. I suppose that means they will be gathering here this evening to make plans,” Mama said. “Mont, you’d better go down under the house and make sure we have plenty of the homemade root beer ready for drinking. I’ll check the pretzel supply: those kids can make them disappear in a hurry”.

No sooner than supper was over the bunch of teenagers began arriving at the cottage to make their plans for the boat ride. I was so excited when Bob said his mother wouldn’t let him go unless he could take his little sister, Janie, along, cause I knew that meant he would ask if I could go to keep her entertained. She was a year younger than me, and I had just turned 10 a month ago; I held my breath until Mama said I could go along with them.

It wasn’t very long before she told me it was time to get to bed. I really wanted to stay and hear the rest of their plans for the boat ride, but I was getting tired, so I went to the bedroom and got ready for bed. Trying to be as quiet as I could, I climbed up the head of the old iron bed and slid over onto the folding cot, that was stored on top of the closet between the two bedrooms, and settled down to listen to what was going on in the living room. I don’t know how much of the plans I heard, but when my sisters came to bed they woke me up and said I had better hurry and get down in the bed before Mama or Daddy found me up there.

The day of the trip dawned bright and clear, and it didn’t take long to get lunches packed, put bathing suits on, get other gear gathered up, and take off for Mr. Riddick’s pier. The water seemed to be a little rougher than usual but that didn’t bother Bob and the others in the group. However, by the time we got down the South River and headed into the Chesapeake Bay the waves were much bigger than they had been in the river. Bob found some rope and tied Janie and me to the bow of the boat and we were having a great time. As long as we were headed into the waves it was fine, but Bob decided it was time we turned around and headed back home. That was when it got really scary. When the waves began to hit the side of the boat, it felt like it was going to turn over and dump all of us right into the bay.

Bob did a great job of getting the boat turned around and headed back home. Going in the same direction as the waves had us back to Mr. Riddick’s pier in record time, and we were all mighty glad to get back on solid ground once again. Our parents were glad when we got back safe and sound, too. They had heard on the radio there was a hurricane heading right up the Chesapeake Bay.

When we woke up the next morning we found out what a hurricane was! It was raining so hard, and the wind blowing so hard we could barely see what was going on outside. It wasn’t long before our electricity went off, and it was a kind of weird color outside. Mama said this would be a good time to put a big pot of vegetable soup on the old oil stove that we had just for such occasions as this.

About mid-morning a couple of boys came by to see if we were doing okay. When they realized we had an oil stove, they asked if they could bring a coffee pot over to put on it. Of course Mama said that would be fine, and the next thing we knew they were going door to door to see if anyone else in the neighborhood had something they wanted heated up. Later that afternoon most of the teenagers were gathered in our cottage playing a game of “Pig” at the big table, and taking turns mopping up the water that was coming in at the base of each window and door. Mama had put a big galvanized tub in the middle of the floor and old towels at each window to mop up the water as it came in. Before it got dark that afternoon, the guys took any extra candles anyone had around the area to make sure everyone had something to see by when it got dark.

My Dad never did get home from work that evening. He worked at the “Washington Evening Star” Newspaper, and when he found there were several bridges washed completely off the road and down the streams, he turned around, and went back to the place where he worked, and spent the night on a couch in the room they called the “Club Room”. The next day was Saturday so he started out once again, and found a longer way to bypass the washed out bridges and finally made it home.