Throughout Friday night and into Saturday morning, the storm continues to batter the Pensacola with what feels like "exploding rain" (137): “All night the ship's steel beams howled like wolves" (138). Even after dawn, visibility often falls to zero, as horizontal rain makes it impossible for Captain Simmons and his crew to keep their eyes open. Simmons orders a sounding, a measurement of the ocean's depth. From this, he estimates that the ship is 115 miles Southeast of Galveston: “The storm seemed to be shoving the Pensacola directly toward the city" (139).

In the morning in Galveston, Isaac and Dr. Young watch as the waves crash over a streetcar trestle. Dr. Young recalls, "I was certain then we were going to have a cyclone" (140). Within moments, he walks to the Western Union office and composes a telegram to his wife who is still abroad a train, advising that she and their children remain in San Antonio during a brief layover there.

A measure of ambiguity surrounds Isaac's response to the early morning swells and waves. After the storm, Isaac will take credit for encouraging 6,000 people on or near the beach to evacuate to higher ground inland, claiming to have effectively saved their lives.