of the pier. Gigantic waves were there
rolling in as if threatening the town with
destruction. The beach was entirely covered
with wrecks, and an undulating mass of
lumber, shingle, staves, barrels, trusses of
hay, and every kind of buoyant
merchandise. Only two vessels were afloat
within the pier, all the rest were capsized
or on their beam-ends in shallow water.
From the cathedral tower, a picture of
universal ruin presented itself at every
point of the compass. The whole face of
the country was laid waste, no sign of
vegetation was apparent, except here and
there small patches of a sickly green.
The surface of the ground seemed as if
scorched by fire. The few remaining trees,
half stripped of their boughs, looked forlorn
and wintry. The merchants' houses around
Bridgetown were no longer hidden by
groves, but stood out, desolate and exposed
ruins. The trees, by the direction of their
fall, showed that they had been for the
most part blown down by the blasts from
the north-west.

At the Barbadoes Government House the
hurricane had not altogether been unguarded
against. The calm, but fiery, evening sky
of the 9th had been followed by a storm
that had driven twenty-five large ships in
the bay to sea, and the doors and windows
of Government House had then been
barricaded, as a precaution against the now
inevitable storm. This was at six P.M.,
but by ten the wind had forced a passage
through the house from the north-west.
The tempest increasing every minute, the
family took to the centre of the building,
imagining, from the building being circular,
and the walls a good three feet thick, they
would withstand the wind's utmost rage.
However, by half-past eleven, half the roof
being torn off, they retreated to the cellar,
from whence they were soon driven by the
water, which, finding a vent there, rose to
the height of four feet. There was only
one refuge—the fields, though trees were
falling in all directions. The family then
huddled under the ruins of the foundation
of the flag-staff, which, however, soon after
gave way, and dispersed the fugitives.
The Governor and the few that remained
with him were thrown down by the wind,
but eventually gained the shelter of a
cannon, and crowded under the carriage,
dreading every moment lest it should be
dismounted and crush them by its fall, or
lest the powder magazine close by should
blow up. The armoury, not far off, was
soon levelled to the ground, and the arms
scattered far and near. The fortifications
were much injured, and it was particularly
mentioned, to show the force of the wind,
that a twelve-pounder gun on a wheeled
carriage was driven by degrees all the way
from the south to the north battery, a
distance of one hundred and forty yards.

This storm only touched a part of St.
Lucia; after a few hours the wind there
went entirely down, and the evening was
beautiful and calm. At St. Vincent's
every building was blown over and the
town destroyed. At Granada nineteen
sail of loaded Dutch ships were stranded and
beaten to pieces. Four ships foundered off
Martinique. In the town of St. Pierre more
than a thousand persons perished. At
Fort Royal, the cathedral, seven churches,
and fourteen hundred houses were blown
down, and the hospital of Nôtre Dame, in
which were sixteen hundred sick and
wounded, fell and crushed the greater part
of the inmates. Altogether, about nine
thousand persons perished in Martinique
alone. Tortola, too, suffered severely. The
whole town of Rood Harbour was
demolished, two-thirds of the sugar houses,
and all the negro huts were destroyed, and
one hundred persons perished. The president
of the island lost his wife, and was
himself severely injured; but he instantly
called a council to open the ports for six
months to all lumber and provisions sent
from the United States. The furniture,
plate, cattle, &c., engulfed or destroyed were
valued at four hundred thousand pounds.
The planters looked with horror on lands
where no crops could be expected for years,
even if the sugar works had not been
destroyed. At St. Eustatia seven ships were
driven on shore, and all the crews were
drowned. Nearly all the houses of the
town were washed into the sea, and
between four and five thousand persons lost
their lives. At St. Martin's everything was
blown down but the boiling houses, and
about one hundred and forty-seven persons
perished in the ruins of the fallen buildings.

This hurricane sweeping all round the
Leeward Islands, wrecked or shattered
every ship it met; at Antigua it sank a sloop
of war, and dashed several merchantmen
and about thirty small vessels on shore.
At St. Bartholomew forty vessels went on
shore at the same time.

The details of a small hurricane at
Rarotonga, one of the South Sea Islands, in
December, 1831, are curious, as exemplifying
some minor peculiarities of these tremendous
visitations. The Reverend Mr. Williams,
a missionary, describes this storm as
beginning with a very heavy sea, which