TROPICAL CYCLONES.
“The Storm is on his way!
With a lightning sword and a thunder shout,
And his robe on the night-wind floating out,
The Storm is on his way!
The Storm is on his way!
He smites, and the death-swept valleys groan,
The ocean writhes, and the forests moan,--
The Storm is on his way!”
The preceding pages show only the destructive power of the small
tornadoes of our land. We are fortunate in that the great cyclone is,
comparatively, a rare visitor among us. A moment’s consideration of this
ravager, as he appears in the tropics, will show how trifling are the
storms that have swept over our own land. A few examples will convince
the most skeptical.
Of the great cyclones which have traversed our country in recent times,
we may mention the hurricane of October 21-24, 1878. Gen. Greeley says:
“It first damaged buildings and sank vessels at Havana. It entered the
United States near Wilmington, N. C., and moving due north, passed over
Washington and eastern Pennsylvania, after which it curved eastward, and
crossing New England, left the coast near Portland, Maine. In
Philadelphia, over seven hundred substantial buildings were totally
destroyed, or seriously damaged, bridges injured, twenty-two vessels
sunk, several persons injured, and eight killed, entailing a loss
variously estimated from one to two millions of dollars. Other loss of
life and great damage by freshets and winds occurred elsewhere in
Pennsylvania. A large number of steamers, ships and coasting vessels
were dismantled, wrecked or sunk along the New Jersey, Virginia and
North Carolina coasts, entailing loss of life and enormous pecuniary
damage. The wind reached seventy-two miles per hour at Philadelphia, and
eighty-eight along the coast.” Another cyclone the next year ruined one
hundred large vessels and two hundred yachts and smacks. Another, in
1881, destroyed four hundred persons along the Carolina coasts, and
damaged property to the extent of $1,600,000.
But these are exceeded by the great Nova Scotia cyclone of 1873. The
property damage alone is estimated at nearly $5,000,000. The Signal
Service report says that “one thousand and thirty-two ships, of which
four hundred and thirty-five were small fishing schooners, are known to
have been destroyed during the 24th and 25th of August, in the
neighborhood of the Gulf of St. Lawrence and the Atlantic shores of Nova
Scotia, Cape Breton and New Foundland. On the other hand, over one
hundred and ninety vessels were destroyed by this hurricane in its
passage over the ocean before it reached Nova Scotia, making a grand
total of at least one thousand two hundred and twenty-three vessels
destroyed within a few days by its power. Two hundred and twenty-three
lives are definitely reported to be lost, and the moderate estimate of
the numerous cases in which whole crews have been lost swells this
number to nearly five hundred; and if to this is added the loss of life
on land, and the loss in the earlier history of the cyclone, the grand
total amounts to at least six hundred lives.”
Had the famed Shah Jehan ever visited the West Indies, it is probable
that he might have pronounced many of its lovely islets fit rivals for
that beautiful creation of his fancy, which bore above the gateway:
“If there be Paradise upon the earth,
This it is, this it is, this it is.”
Among the loveliest groups are the beautiful Virgin Isles, and loveliest
of these is the famed island of St. Thomas. A lofty mountain girdles the
island, leaving an opening between two hills into a wide oval harbor,
while the pretty little town lies around the inner side of the port,
sloping up the mountain behind, the queen of a vast natural
amphitheater. Such a fine harbor has rendered St. Thomas almost the
mistress of West Indian commerce; and one would not suspect, in looking
at the sunny slopes and green-clad ranges around the azure harbor, that
in this region is the birthplace of the Storm King. Yet, not a spot on
earth has been more frequently visited by great cyclones.
One of the most notable of its visitations during this century occurred
August 2, 1837. The barometer fell rapidly during the forenoon, and by
noon the storm began. In a short time it increased to a tremendous gale.
At about three o’clock, the wind suddenly ceased. In a few moments it
blew from the other direction, roaring and rolling black clouds before
it, raising up immense sea-waves, covering the island with intense
gloom. Six hours it blew, ever increasing. Tiles and slates whizzed
through the air, to be shattered on the rocks or driven into timbers:
great trees were whirled about, often dashing away houses that seemed
about to weather the storm, while the terrible roar of the wind was such
that even the crash of the thunder could hardly be distinguished. One
authority tells us that the great guns at the fort were blown through
the air and tossed about the beach like chaff! This must be taken with
allowance. It is more probable that the great guns on the beach were
washed up from the wrecks of some old pirate vessels or ships of war.
About 10 P.M. there was a slight cessation of the storm, and the people
were congratulating themselves that the worst was over, when there came
a violent earthquake, which laid in ruins almost everything that was
left. The wreck took fire in two or three places: at once the hurricane
began with renewed vigor: and ere the wretched people had fully
comprehended the magnitude of the calamity, the whole ruined town was a
sea of flame. Buffeted by the wind, blinded by the smoke and the pelting
spray whirled up from the raging sea, the people ran for the slopes of
the hills: the light of the funeral pyre of their hopes and labors
rendering the gloom more horrible, and seeming to rival the gleams of
Tartarus.
Day broke at last. The storm was gone. The earthquake staggered the
miserable folk no longer. The warm and brilliant sun of the West Indies
smiled upon the scene. “The whole country round was strewn with large
trees, uprooted or snapped off, and all plantations were destroyed. In
the town the fire was dying out, and it was only here and there that the
ruins were still smoking. The hurricane had swept away nearly all the
wooden houses; those which had been lightly placed upon beams, just
above the soil, being carried off as they stood, while the larger ones,
which had resisted the hurricane, were overturned in an instant by the
earthquake. The whole town was strewn with wrecks that told of the
violence of the catastrophe. The port, so gay and animated the day
before, was dreary and deserted, a few masts here and there emerging
from the water: while all along the shore, and even upon the slope of
the hills, were scattered wreckage and corpses of sailors.”
While we have noticed only the destruction wrought at
[Illustration: CYCLONE, FIRE AND EARTHQUAKE AT ST. THOMAS.]
St. Thomas, this storm was general throughout the Antilles. In the
Bahamas, it was less violent, they lying on the outskirts of the storm.
Millions of dollars worth of property--merchandise, vegetation, houses,
and vessels--were destroyed, and thousands of lives lost.
Thirty years later, St. Thomas again suffered from the combined forces
of storm and earthquake; and the damage was greater, because the
earthquake, with its sea-wave, came a few days after the storm, as the
work of restoration was well under way, and so involved a second
prostration of the resources of the people. Moreover, the town had grown
considerably in thirty years, and there was much more valuable property
to damage. Fifteen large steamers and many smaller vessels were driven
on the shore by the storm: while the sea-wave, a few days later, found
the port again filled with vessels of different nations. It overleaped
the sentinel hills at the entrance of the bay, and swept with tremendous
force upon the city, drowning with its terrible roar, the despairing cry
of the sailors; then suddenly retired with the wreck of the city to its
dark abyss. The batteries of heavy guns at the entrance of the harbor
were swept away. A few injured vessels wallowed on the waves, but most
had been swallowed up and left no trace behind.
While there is always deep sympathy for those who suffer such
calamities, yet it must remain of the type bestowed upon sufferers in
Arctic expeditions. The character of the climate is well known, and the
whole matter resolves itself into a question of the risk one is willing
to run. There is no blind chance in control of these movements. The
cyclone frequents only certain regions, and its habit and power is
understood. While we pity the sufferers, we can not assert that the
scourge is mysterious or unaccountable, any more than we find mystery in
the fact of eternal snow in the Polar world.
[Illustration: “DROWNING, WITH ITS TERRIBLE ROAR, THE DESPAIRING CRY OF
THE SAILORS.”]
But there have been storms in the West Indies far more destructive than
either of these, or both together. One of the most noted of the century
is the famous Barbadoes storm of 1831, which an eye-witness thus
describes:
“On the morning of the 10th of August, the sun arose without a cloud; at
10 A.M. a breeze that had been blowing, died away; towards 2 P.M. the
heat became oppressive; at 5 P.M. thick clouds appeared in the north,
rain fell, and was succeeded by a sudden stillness and a dismal
blackness all around except towards the zenith, where there was an
obscure circle of imperfect light. Till 10:30 P.M., however, there was
no sign of change; then lightning appeared in the north, and very
unusual fluctuations of the thermometer were observed. All this time the
storm was only approaching.
“After midnight the continued flashing of the lightning was awfully
grand, and a gale blew fiercely from the north and northeast, but at 1
A.M., on the 11th of August, the tempestuous rage of the wind increased
as the storm suddenly shifted and burst from the northwest and immediate
points. The upper regions were illuminated by incessant lightning, but
the quivering sheet of blaze was surpassed in brilliancy by the darts of
electric fire which exploded in every direction. At a little after 2
A.M. the astounding roar of the hurricane can not be described by
language.
“About three o’clock the wind abated and the lightning ceased for a few
moments at a time, when the blackness in which the town was enveloped
was inexpressibly awful. Fiery meteors were presently seen falling from
the heavens; one in particular of a globular form and a deep-red hue,
was observed by the writer to descend perpendicularly from a vast
height. On approaching the earth it assumed a dazzling whiteness and an
elongated form, and on reaching the ground splashed around in the same
manner as melted metal would have done, and was instantly extinct.” (It
is evident that the coincidence on this occasion with the day on which
the earth is known to pass through the August belt of meteors, rendered
the effect of this great storm at Barbadoes more striking. It is not
safe to assert that there was any relation between the phenomena.) “A
few minutes after, the deafening noise of the wind sank to a solemn
murmur, or rather a distant roar; and the lightning which from midnight
had flashed and darted forkedly with but few momentary intermissions,
now for nearly half a minute played frightfully between the clouds and
the earth with novel and surprising action. The vast body of vapor
appeared to touch the houses, and issued downward flaming blazes, which
were nimbly returned from the earth upward.
“The moment after this singular alteration of lightning the hurricane
again burst forth from the western points with violence prodigious
beyond description, hurling before it thousands of missiles, the
fragments of every unsheltered structure of human art. The strongest
houses were caused to vibrate from their foundations, and the surface of
the very earth trembled as the destroyer raged over it. No thunder was
at any time distinctly heard. The horrible roar and yelling of the wind;
the noise of the ocean, whose frightful waves threatened the town with
the destruction of all that the other elements might spare; the
clattering of tiles, the falling of floors, and walls, and the
combination of a thousand other sounds, formed a hideous and appalling
din.
“About 5 A.M. the storm abated; at six o’clock the wind was at south, at
seven o’clock, southeast, at eight o’clock, east-southeast; and at nine
o’clock, the weather was clear.
“The view from the summit of the cathedral tower, a few hours later, was
frightfully grand. The whole face of the country was laid waste; no
sign of vegetation was apparent, except here and there small patches of
sickly green. The surface of the ground appeared as if fire had run
through the land, scorching and burning up the productions of the earth.
The few remaining trees, stripped of their boughs and foliage, wore a
cold and wintry aspect; and the numerous seats in the environs of
Bridgetown, formerly concealed among thick groves, were now exposed and
in ruins.”
One peculiarity noticeable, was that in some places trees, timbers, and
many other objects, presented a scorched appearance, as though subjected
to intense heat. The reason of this is not clear, as unusual heat was
not perceptible after the beginning of the storm by any one. It may be
that this was produced by unusual quantities of electricity escaping
through imperfect conductors, for we learn, from other phenomena, that
during this storm there was an unusual state of electrical tension in
the atmosphere. Sparks occasionally leaped from the heads of persons out
of doors. Vast numbers of trees that were not blown down, speedily died:
and it has been suggested that an excess of electricity killed them.
The total loss in this storm is not definitely known. Some further idea
of its fearful violence may be gathered from the fact that at the north
end of Barbadoes, the waves broke over a cliff seventy feet high, and
the saltwater spray was carried inland in such quantities as to kill all
the fresh-water fish in ponds far in the interior. As for the tremendous
roar of the wind, the commanding officer of the thirty-sixth regiment
sought protection by getting under the arch of a lower window outside
his house. He did not hear the roof and upper story of the house fall,
and only found it out by the dust caused by the fall.
Far more destructive was the great hurricane of 1780.
[Illustration: HURRICANE IN THE TROPICS.]
The French and English were at war. Admiral George Rodney was in the
West Indies with an English fleet in several divisions. The French had
sent a convoy of five thousand troops to Martinique. The storm was of
immense width, extending from Trinidad, on the extreme southwest, to
Antigua. The evening of October 9th was red and lowering. By ten o’clock
next morning, the wind was high, and by one o’clock, vessels in the
harbors were dragging their anchors. The water was driven on shore with
such force at Barbadoes, that it was four feet deep in the Government
House. The family took refuge under the cannon, only to find that they
were moved about by the wind. By morning not a building in town was
standing; every tree was either blown away, or stripped of branches and
leaves.
The sunny islands were suddenly become as bleak and bare as a Siberian
steppe.
As to the loss, ten thousand perished at Martinique; six thousand at
Santa Lucia; four thousand five hundred at St. Eustatia; three thousand
five hundred at Barbadoes. Scores of smaller islands were devastated,
but the loss in detail is not known. Of the British fleet, the greater
part was destroyed; only one vessel out of nineteen at St. Eustatia
survived. A score of other ships of war and numerous transports were
sunk. Of the French convoy, with five thousand troops, the governor
wrote laconically that it “had disappeared.” Several English vessels at
Barbadoes were carried far in shore and converted into dwellings.
Doubtless, fifty thousand would hardly be too great an estimate of the
total loss of life in this storm. In a similar one in 1813, the
hurricane drove back the Gulf Stream, piling up the water thirty feet
deep in the Gulf of Mexico. The ship _Ledbury Snow_, endeavored to ride
out the storm, and when it was over, found herself high and dry. She had
let go her anchor among the tree-tops of Elliot’s Key. The Barbadoes
region suffered another severe gale in 1782, when the prizes captured by
Admiral Rodney were sunk, a number of merchant vessels and two English
war-ships foundered, and three thousand lives were lost at sea alone.
The temperate zone has its occasional hurricanes, though they are by no
means as powerful or as frequent as those of the tropics. It is stated
that in the year 944, one thousand five hundred houses were destroyed by
a tempest in London. In the year 1090, it is recorded that a violent
storm overturned six hundred and six houses in London alone.
Terrible as is the destruction of the cyclone in the western world, its
fury here can not give a fair idea of the awful havoc it makes in
Oriental regions. All through the Malay archipelago, along the coasts of
China, Japan, the Phillipines, Hindostan, and Farther India, the ravages
of the Storm King have been appalling, far exceeding even the terrible
hurricanes of the West Indies.
Hindostan affords peculiar facilities for destructiveness of cyclones.
Both its great rivers flow, for the latter part of their course, through
low alluvial plains, and their deltas extend into the ocean directly
toward the region of monsoons; so that a hurricane may send a great
tidal wave up the river: while the low rich plains for miles around are
but few feet above tide-water, and teem with a population attracted by
the amazing fertility. So a sudden great storm may totally submerge,
without any warning, hundreds of square miles of these fertile tracts,
with all their inhabitants. Even when the sea-wave is not added to the
horrors of the storm, the losses are fearful. A cyclone at Calcutta in
1867, destroyed thirty thousand houses, wrecked or sunk six hundred
ships and smaller vessels in the river, and killed ten thousand persons
in the city alone. When to this is added the havoc committed by the
storm--one hundred miles wide--in the rural districts, as it traveled on
toward the foot-hills, it is clear that every reader may be devoutly
thankful that such terrible visitants are altogether unknown in our
land.
Terrible as this storm was, there was a greater one on the 5th of
October, 1864. About one hundred ships were lost; and over sixty
thousand persons perished; forty-three thousand in Calcutta alone. It
was accompanied by a “bore” on the Hooghly, the water rising thirty
feet, which is ten feet higher than the highest spring tides; whole
towns were nearly destroyed. It indicated its approach for several days,
and Capt. Watson, of the _Clarence_, seeing the barometer falling, knew
a cyclone was approaching, and saved his ship by steering out of its
range.
Compare this with the storms of our own land, that thrill the country
with horror if but one hundred people are killed, and remember that the
cyclone of India destroyed six hundred lives where one was destroyed in
this region. Compare with the most terrible storms recorded in the West
Indies, and the latter must yield.
Coringa, on the Coromandel coast, has been several times desolated by
these terrible storm waves. In December, 1789, three immense rollers
came ashore during a single storm; the town was destroyed; the
neighboring country inundated. Ships were torn from their anchorage and
thrown high on the land: twenty thousand people were lost; and the heaps
of sand and mud rendered search for bodies and property useless.
In May, 1833, the region at the mouth of the Hooghly was inundated by a
cyclone. Three hundred villages and fifty thousand people were
destroyed. In June, 1822, Burisal and Backergunge, at the mouth of the
Ganges, were overwhelmed, and fifty thousand persons drowned.
But Hindostan has far greater horrors to report. A terrible flood in
1887 was driven by the cyclone over the Ganges delta. The victims
numbered many thousands: exact figures not at hand. But in 1876, a
cyclone swept the Backergunge district, and rolled in a storm wave over
the eastern edge of the fertile delta, covering it with from ten to
fifty feet of water. When the storm had subsided, it was found that more
than one hundred thousand people had perished!
Finally, a great cyclone in 1737, October 11-12, swept the Ganges delta
with a wave thirty feet deep on the land. Three hundred thousand people
perished in this storm! The mind can not grasp the appalling magnitude
of such a disaster.
These cases are the most destructive cyclones on record, and in each
case the destruction is due largely to the character of the region
traversed, though the winds of Bengal are not surpassed in violence by
those of any country in the world. Were the harbor an open seaport,
instead of a large river, no ship could live through such a storm.
Other regions in the east suffer much from tempests. The whole Malay
archipelago, with the Moluccas and Philippines, are visited quite as
frequently as the coasts of Hindostan. A cyclone that swept the
Philippine Islands, November 6, 1885, destroyed ten thousand people, and
millions of dollars worth of property.
The same character of storms is frequently met with in the Japan and
China seas, where it is known as the “typhoon,” our Anglicised spelling
of the Chinese title, “tei-fun.” With one example of the power of this
storm, this chapter must close. In the narrative of Commander Hall, of
the British Navy, is found this description of a typhoon that occurred
at Hong Kong, July 21-22, 1841:
“For days previously large black clouds appeared to
[Illustration: COAST OF INDIA SUBMERGED BY A STORM.]
settle on the hills on either side; the atmosphere was extremely sultry
and oppressive, and the most vivid lightning shot incessantly along the
dense threatening clouds, and looked more brilliant, because the
phenomena were most remarkable at night; while during the day, the
threatening appearances were moderated considerably, and sometimes
almost entirely disappeared. The vibrations of the mercury in the
barometer were constant and rapid, and though it occasionally rose,
still the improvement was only temporary; a storm was therefore
confidently predicted. Between seven and eight o’clock in the morning,
the wind was blowing very hard from the northward, or directly upon the
shores of Hong Kong, and continued to increase in heavy squalls hour
after hour. Ships were beginning to drive, and the work of destruction
had commenced on every side; the Chinese junks and boats were blown
about in all directions, and one of them was seen to founder with all
hands on board. The fine basin of Hong Kong was gradually covered with
scattered wrecks of the war of elements; planks, spars, broken boats,
and human beings clinging hopelessly for succor to every treacherous
log, were tossed about on every side; the wind howled and tore
everything away before it, literally sweeping the face of the waters.
From half-past ten to half-past two the hurricane was at its highest,
the barometer at this time having descended to 28.50. The air was filled
with spray and salt, so that it was impossible to see anything that was
not close at hand; the wind roared and howled fearfully, so that it was
impossible to hear a word that was said. Ships were now drifting foul of
each other in all directions, masts were being cut away, and from the
strength of the wind forcing the sea high upon the shore, several ships
were driven high and dry. The Chinese were all distracted, imploring
their gods in vain for help; such an awful scene of destruction and
ruin is rarely witnessed, and almost every one was so busy in thinking
of his own safety, as to be unable to render assistance to any one else.
Hundreds of Chinese were drowned, and occasionally a whole family,
children and all, floated past the ships, clinging in apparent apathy
(perhaps under the influence of opium) to the last remnants of their
shattered boats, which soon tumbled to pieces and left them to their
fate. On the 26th another typhoon occurred, but not so severe as the
first.”
The storm at sea presents a class of peculiar dangers and a variety of
thrilling experiences, such as the landsman never knows. The stories of
great shipwrecks and other purely naval disasters form some of the most
interesting narratives in history: and doubtless the reader will be
pleased to notice in detail the perils of the deep, and to learn of the
precautions taken and the means in common use for averting, as far as
possible, the disastrous results of the tempest. Certainly, the brave
tars who peril their lives on the ocean to bring us the luxuries of a
foreign land deserve especial attention, and no apology need be given
for devoting a portion of this volume to the story of their perils and
daring.