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The rain stops—temporarily, I suppose. I move my car to higher ground a half block away and decide to get some film while I'm out. As I drive along the street parallel to the shore, I find many of the street intersections fringed with backed up water. Long Island Sound is up in the streets.

Home, again, I find more and more of each succeeding wave is breaking over the sea wall. This brings more water onto the grass and walks. The water advances in broad, foamy fingers, as it proceeds farther and farther into the uncovered areas.

10:30 am. It looks like we will have to leave. I telephone Emil, my neighbor, to help me take the motor out of the furnace. In the cellar the water is beginning to come in around the margin of the windows. We remove the motor and Emil leaves. We are ready to quit our dwelling. However, we hear some shouting.

Looking out over the sound, we discover that the turbulent, seething, bucking waves have quieted—unbelievable!

We run outside and immediately notice the wind has changed and is blowing off shore. Suddenly, we realize the eye of the hurricane has passed north of us sufficiently to reverse the wind direction.

The Lord has spared us! Jubilation permeates our atmosphere!

And there, of a sudden, we see our ladder floating on the Sound's surface. The blessed off-shore wind is taking it swiftly toward Long Island.

The dark clouds scud off to the East and, after a little while, the sun streams through a rift overhead. The quieted water is about a foot from the top of the sea wall.

Neighbors on a sea wall watch the remnants of Hurricane Carol's spray bound 20 feet in the air. Even as it recedes, storm surge waves gently lap at the sign at the top of the sea wall on the far right, revealing the sign's full message: "PRIVATE KEEP OFF."

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