that men can be so destitute of all manner of regard to invisible and superior power, to be acting one of the vilest parts of a villain, while infinite power was threatening the whole world with desolation, and multitudes of people expected the last day was at hand.
Several women in the city of London who were in travail, or who fell into travail by the fright of the storm, were obliged to run the risk of being delivered with such help as they had; and midwives found their own lives in such danger, that few of them thought themselves obliged to shew any concern for the lives of others.
Furious fire in Norfolk.
Fire was the only mischief that did not happen to make the night completely dreadful; and yet that was not so everywhere, for in Norfolk, the town of ---- was almost ruined by a furious fire, which burnt with such vehemence, and was so fanned by the tempest, that the inhabitants had no power to concern themselves in the extinguishing it; the wind blew the flames, together with the ruins, so about, that there was no standing near it; for if the people came to windward they were in danger to be blown into the flames; and if to leeward the flames were so blown up in their faces, they could not bear to come near it.
If this disaster had happened in London, it must have been very fatal; for as no regular application could have been made for the extinguishing it, so the very people in danger would have had no opportunity to have saved their goods, and hardly their lives: for though a man will run any risk to avoid being burnt, yet it must have been next to a miracle, if any person so obliged to escape from the flames had escaped being knocked on the head in the streets; for the bricks and tiles flew about like small shot; and it was a miserable sight in the morning after the storm, to see the streets covered with tile-sherds, and heaps of rubbish from the tops of the houses, lying almost at every door.
From two of the clock the storm continued, and increased till five in the morning; and from five, to half-an-hour after six, it blew with the greatest violence: the fury of it was so exceeding great for that particular hour and a half, that if it had not abated as it did, nothing could have stood its violence much longer.
In this last part of the time the greatest part of the damage was done: several ships that rode it out till now, gave up all; for no anchor could hold. Even the ships in the river Thames were all blown away from their moorings, and from Execution Dock to Limehouse Hole there was but four ships that rid it out, the rest were driven down into the Bite, as the sailors call it, from Bell Wharf to Limehouse; where they were huddled together and drove on shore, heads and sterns, one upon another, in such a manner, as any one would have thought it had been impossible: and the damage done on that account was incredible.
Together with the violence of the wind, the darkness of the night added to the terror of it; and as it was just new moon, the spring tides being then up at about four o’clock, made the vessels, which were afloat in the river, drive the farther up upon the shore: of all which, in the process of this story, we shall find very strange instances.
The points from whence the wind blew, are variously reported from various hands: it is certain, it blew all the day before at S. W., and I thought it continued so till about two o’clock; when, as near as I could judge by the impressions it made on the house, for we durst not look out, it veered to the S.S.W. then to the W. and about six o’clock to W. by N., and still the more northward it shifted, the harder it blew, till it shifted again southerly about seven o’clock; and as it did so, it gradually abated.
About eight o’clock in the morning it ceased so much, that our fears were also abated, and people began to peep out of doors; but it is impossible to express the concern that appeared in every place; the distraction and fury of the night was visible in the faces of the people, and every body’s first work was to visit and inquire after friends and relations. The next day or two was almost entirely spent in the curiosity of the people, in viewing the havoc the storm had made, which was so universal in London, and especially in the out-parts, that nothing can be said sufficient to describe it.
Another unhappy circumstance with which this disaster was joined, was a prodigious tide, which happened the next day but one, and was occasioned by the fury of the winds; which is also a demonstration, that the winds veered for part of the time to the northward: and as it is observable, and known by all that understand our sea affairs, that a north-west wind makes the highest tide, so this blowing to the northward, and that with such unusual violence, brought up the sea raging in such a manner, that in some parts of England it was incredible, the water rising six or eight feet higher than it was ever known to do in the memory of man; by which ships were fleeted up upon the firm land several rods off from the banks, and an incredible number of cattle and people drowned; as in the pursuit of this story will appear.
Abatement of the Storm.
It was a special providence that so directed the waters, that in the river Thames, the tide, though it rose higher than usual, yet it did not so prodigiously exceed; but the height of them as it was, proved very prejudicial to abundance of people whose cellars and warehouses were near the river; and had the water risen a foot higher, all the marshes and levels on both sides the river had been overflowed, and a great part of the cattle drowned.
Though the storm abated with the rising of the sun, it still blew exceeding hard; so hard, that no boats durst stir out on the river, but on extraordinary occasions; and about three o’clock in the afternoon, the next day, being Saturday, it increased again, and we were in a fresh consternation, lest it should return with the same violence. At four it blew an extreme storm, with sudden gusts as violent as any time of the night; but as it came with a great black cloud, and some thunder, it brought a hasty shower of rain which allayed the storm; so that in a quarter of an hour it went off, and only continued blowing as before.
This sort of weather held all Sabbath-day and Monday, till on Tuesday afternoon it increased again; and all night it blew with such fury, that many families were afraid to go to bed; and had not the former terrible night hardened the people to all things less than itself, this night would have passed for a storm fit to have been noted in our almanacks. Several stacks of chimnies that stood out the great storm, were blown down in this; several ships which escaped in the great storm, perished this night; and several people who repaired their houses, had them untiled again. Not but that I may allow those chimnies that fell now might have been disabled before.
At this rate it held blowing till Wednesday, about one o’clock in the afternoon, which was that day seven-night on which it began; so that it might be called one continued storm from Wednesday noon to Wednesday noon: in all which time, there was not one interval of time in which a sailor would not have acknowledged it blew a storm; and in that time two such terrible nights as I have described.
And this I particularly noted as to time, Wednesday, November 24th, was a calm fine day as at that time of year shall be seen; till above four o’clock, when it began to be cloudy, and the wind rose of a sudden, and in an half-an-hour’s time it blew a storm. Wednesday, December the 2nd, it was very tempestuous all the morning; at one o’clock, the wind abated, the sky cleared, and by four o’clock, there was not a breath of wind.
Thus ended the greatest and the longest storm that ever the world saw. The effects of this terrible providence are the subject of the ensuing chapter; and I close this with a pastoral poem sent us among the accounts of the storm from a very ingenious author, and desired to be published in this account
A Pastoral,
Occasioned by the Late Violent Storm.
Damon. Walking alone by pleasant Isis side.
Where the two streams their wanton course divide,
