1.1. AN ACCOUNT OF THE HURRICANE Which happened August 31, 1772.

NO state or condition in life can promise itself an exemption from distress and misery; let out prospects be ever so flattering, let our measures in pursuit of happiness be ever so wisely laid, let every action of our lives be governed by the strictest rules of prudence, yet vain are all our schemes if the hand of Providence interferes to blast our hopes, and render the plan of our felicity abortive. Hopes and fears alternately possess the human mind, and we are more or less agitated as danger or security approaches. We tremble in the face of danger, and then, and perhaps but then, call on Him for succour who can alone protect us. There is too much of common life in the observation to let a doubt remain of its truth; and it is equally true, that in our prosperous security we forget the Author of our happiness, and enjoy His gifts as if they arose spontaneous from ourselves.

It is true, indeed, the Divine Being sometimes visits the children of disobedience with His anger, yet we hope we shall never forget the mercies with which [Page 2] his last dreadful visitation was accompanied. In the midst of horror and confusion our lives were spared, to fulfil His wise purposes. That visitation of Providence, and the melancholy consequences flowing from it, is the subject of the following pages; and though it may not be treated with that elegance of diction, and that force of reasoning, which might be expected from an abler pen, yet the author will endeavour to attone for the want of those excellencies, by adhering to truth with the most religious attention; and he shall esteem himself very happy, if, after the perusal of these sheets, no Gentleman is offended: if, on the contrary, he unfortunately gives offence, he previously begs pardon for what he never intended to commit.

To account physically for Hurricanes is not my present purpose, but barely to relate what happened on the 31st day of August, 1772. Yet one observation on the propertty of hurricanes, and wherein they differ from storms in general, may not be altogether superfluous; and the rather, as I borrow my observation from the experience of two hurricanes equally severe, the one on the 11th of September, 1751, in Jamaica, and the other of yesterday. A Storm is a heavy gale, which blows regularly, and almost all of equal force, especially at a little distance from the skirts, where it must of course die away: on the other hand, an hurricane is an equal body of wind, but more partial in its progress; for being compresed into narrow flues, or gusts of no great extent, trebles it in force, and marks its way with ruin and desolation. THis will appear obvious to any observer, who will recollect that, in the late hurricane, many substantial houses have been destroyed, while some, not half as strong, have escaped almost unhurt, though not many yards distant from each other. Indeed other convincing circumstances in favour of this doctrine occur, but one is sufficient: almost every thing on the estate of William Garvey Esq. at Palmetto Point, was destroyed, while his next neighbours received little or no injury.

There is another circumstance wherein an hurricane differs widely from a storm, which is this: a storm continues mostly in one direction, whereas an hurricane will, before it entirely ceases, change to each of the cardinal points, with a lull between each variation.

For some days before the 31st of August, the weather seemed to portend something disastrous; the clouds flying low and rapidly, and frequently changing their course. On the 27th, in the evening, a great sea swell began, and continued increasing all that night; and on Friday the 28th it was dreadful. The wind blowing strong from the westward, prevented the vessels in the road from putting to sea, by which means several were drove on shore, and stranded, an account of which will be seen in the annexed table. About six o'clock on Friday evening the wind moderated, and the surf began to subside. It is impossible that a more dreadfully glorious scene could have presented itself than was seen that evening on the bay. The clouds, which were of various colours, seemed warring with each other; the sea dashing, with furious explosions, on the shore; the wrecks of vessels lost, in view: in short, nothing could convey a more exalted idea of Divine Majesty than this tremendous scene. On Saturday the weather was very moderate, and we fondly flattered ourselves that the worst was past. But, alas! the measure of our woes was not yet full. The widow and the orphan had not yet cause to shed the tears of affliction; the tender virgin was not yet obliged to lie in the street without a covering over her head; ruin had not yet overtaken the industrious and the careful: those events, those dreadful events, were reserved for Monday the 31st, a day appointed by the Almighty as a day of bitterness and sorrow, which can never be forgotten.

This day was ushered in with little flying gusts of wind and rain, which continued increasing till about nine o'clock, when the flood gates of Heaven seemed to have burst open, to pour desolation thro' [Page 4] a devoted land. Boreas rushed forth, armed with destruction and wide-wafting ruin, tearing up in its course churches, houses, trees of vast circumference, and stones snatched violently from the earth and thrown to considerable distances. Safety became a stranger, horror and dismay seized the stoutest hearts, for who can withstand the terrors of the Lord! universal destruction seemed suspended by a thread, and every succeeding moment expected to be our last. The crash of falling buildings, the shrieks of those who were left destitute of shelter, the rattling of timbers, carried aloft in air, then driving against the tops of houses, the tumbling of stone walls, all contributed to heighten this uproar of nature. All hearts became open to the soft influence of humanity and tenderness; discord and rancour were banished from every breast; and he was most happy who could yield the greatest assistance. The proverb was amply verified, "Fear made cowards loving."

When this war of wind and rain, which as it flew seemed mingled with fire, had continued about an hour, the new court house was torn up from its foundations, and laid in ruins; the roof of the east end of the church was carried away, and several private buildings destroyed: but the blustry god was not yet satiated with ruin, for before he let go the reins of the northern wind, the stores of Messrs. Henderson and Murray and Messrs. Sharry and Sanderson were unroofed, a great part of their goods destroyed, damaged, or stolen, and all the vessels in the road parted from their anchors, and were driven southward. About eleven o'clock the sun began to shine, and the wind dying away, gave the frighted and fatigued inhabitants an opportunity of visiting their friends, and of administering such consolation and relief as their several necessities seemed to require. Others were employed in removing their goods to places of greater security; and indeed every house that escaped the fury of the storm was open for their reception. This was but a short-lived cessation; for the wind veering to the [Page 5] eastward, soon passed that direction, and about five minutes before twelve was at south-south-east, when the storm re-commenced with redoubled fury. The hopes of safety entertained from the cessation soon gave place to terror and despair; every breath heaved with heart-felt anguish; and those who did not personally suffer in this wreck of matter, felt every pang for their absent relations that affinity, fear, and danger could inspire. The vessels blown from the road by the northern gale, were now drove furiously back and wrecked. To add still more to our terror and distress, a severe shock of an earthquake was felt about half after one o'clock. This gale was by far the most severe, though the former did the most mischief, having scarcely left any thing for the southern wind to destroy. At two o'clock the hurricane ceased, though the wind continued all the evening to blow pretty fresh; as it did most of the next day.

With regard to the number of lives lost, and persons wounded on this occasion, it was very inconsiderable, when we recollect the dangers of the day. I have heard of no more than four white people killed, which were, Mrs. Thomas, by the fall of Mrs. Palmer's house, at the Mornes; Mrs. Brown, by the fall of her house at Sandy Bay, by which accident also her daughter had some of her limbs broken; Richard Mathews, Esq. manager on the Belmont estate of Peter Mathew Mills, Esq. having staid in the house as long as he could with any degree of safety, in attempting to get out when the house was falling, he was jammed fast between two heavy beams, which killed him instantly; Mrs. Langley, at Sandy Point, was killed by the fall of the house she lived in.

There were several white persons wounded, and about twenty Negroes killed and wounded, and cattle innumerable.

The morning after the hurricane, the whole face of nature seemed changed; the trees were all, without a single exception, disrobed of their foliage; that beautiful verdure, tat was wont to grace our ever-green hills and vallies, snatched rudely from them; our loftiest tamarind trees, the plumy cocoa nut trees, mostly submitted to the superior power of the gale. Not a blade of grass, or indeed of any thing green, but what was whipped violently off, and every vegitable entirely destroyed. December never presented a more dreary scene than what was now beheld. The sugar canes, in many places, were twisted out by the root, others disjointed, and some for whole acres swept entirely away. Our roads were rendered impassable either by floods, gullies, or huge trees laid across them. However, a surprising vegitation, with the industry of the inhabitants, has since made the island assume a more comfortable aspect, and our hopes of the next crop are risen in proportion.

1.2. Losses sustained in the Island of St Christopher, by the Hurricane which happened on the 31st of August, 1772.

1.3. CONCLUSION.

TO reflect on the dreadful consequences of the fatal 31st of August, is the proper business of, as they must affect, every sensible mind. The melancholy evils flowing from this event will be felt when we shall cease to remember them, and posterity become acquainted with our mishap by experiment, unless frugality and industry coincide to avert the impending danger.

In the preceding accounts I have been as precisely just as the nature of my information would admit. It was a difficult task to accomplish, and the rather as many obstacles have been thrown in my way which I could not have foreseen; and it has even been suggested to me, since I began this account, that I have offended in attempting it: be that as it will, I have endeavoured to render it complete. It is true, truth sometimes borders so closely on falsehood, that it is difficult to distinguish the one from the other. If I have exaggerated any circumstance it was not intentional but merely want of information: and indeed I would rather they were exaggerated than under rated.

I cannot conclude this account with greater propriety than in returning my thanks, as a member of society, to those worthy men, who so liberally contributed to the relief of the widow and the orphan in the day of distress.

One very distinguishing example of benevolence I cannot omit, as it reflects the highest honour on human nature, Mr. William Somerfell, a native of this island, and now a merchant in South Carolina, no sooner heard of the calamity that had befallen his country, than he sent seventy-five pounds to be shared amongst the most distressed of his suffering countrymen.

But what honours are due to HIM, by whose prudence and zeal we were rescued from that worst of evils, a famine! every honour, every praise,------His Excellency Sir RALPH PAYNE, K. B. our present worthy Commander in Chief, lost no time in communicating our distresses to the Governors on the continent, soliciting their assistance in having supplies immediately sent us, and without which we must have perished. THis will sufficiently appear in the following state paper, which I chuse to insert, to convince the world of the truth of my affection.