Hurricane

In August, first month of the Caribbean's high-wind season, hurricanes usually trace out tracks north of Jamaica, but last week's hurricane was a little south for August. It roared straight toward Kingston. Warned by a storm tide and a hot, moist atmosphere, Kingston (pop. 250,000) battened down; buses stopped running, movies closed, people stayed home.

The edge of the whirling hurricane crossed Kingston at 9:45 p.m.; for four roaring hours after that, it lashed the city's galvanized iron roofs and clapboard frame houses. Breadfruit, coconuts and avocados rained into the streets. In the harbor, six steamships were driven ashore. With the deafening winds came typical hurricane rains, 17 inches in a little more than five hours. It was the worst storm in Jamaica's wind-battered history.

When the sun reappeared at noon the next day, 109 people were dead. Thousands of men, women, and children, their homes beaten to matchwood, moved into churches, schools, hospitals. Damage, including windblown, flooded sugar cane and bananas, reached an estimated $56 million. Power lines had been knocked down and railroad tracks uprooted. The historic old town of Port Royal had been all but obliterated; only six habitable dwellings were still standing. And 76 convicts were at large; the 130-m.p.h. hurricane had toppled a penitentiary wall.

This week, some 800 miles farther along its west-northwesterly track, the hurricane lost much of its starch lashing the hardwood forests of Yucatan. But as it entered the Gulf of Mexico, the air was humid and hot--just right to regenerate the black storm.

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