OF THE TOWN.

And first we will notice some of the calamities with which it has been visited; these have been principally of four kinds: Plague, Fires, Civil dissentions, and Storms.

The Plague was felt in this town very severely at several times: probably in 1349, and certainly in 1547.  In 1579, twice as many people died in Lowestoft as in 1578; and in 1579 the Plague raged at Yarmouth; the inference is pretty clear, this unwonted mortality was occasioned by the Plague.  In 1603, 280 persons were buried in five months; and in 1635, the number of deaths during the year was considerably above the average, amounting to 170.

Several severe Fires have happened in the town.  In 1606 the vicarage was destroyed, and with it, the town records.  In March, 1644–45, property was consumed by fire to the value of £10,300; several fires of less magnitude have also done considerable damage.

The town could not engage in the various skirmishes with Yarmouth, Cromwell, and others, without suffering some of the natural evil consequences of War; but as we have already directed the attention of our readers to the engagements themselves, and to the nature of the contests in which the townsmen have striven, it may, perhaps, not be presuming too much, to leave it to their own imagination to realise the injury done to life and limb, and to public and private interests, by this greatest scourge of all, with which a town or kingdom can be visited.

It remains then for us to present a few memorials of the havoc committed by that element, the contiguity of which to our town, gives it the greatest charm in the eye of the visiter.

That mighty ocean which, for the most part, rolls so harmlessly on the beach, is sometimes excited and whipt into a fury, and then scenes of awful majesty, and sometimes of terror, are witnessed.  These Storms are not so seldom experienced, as absolutely to necessitate the constant repetition of the same story to illustrate their fearful consequences; but there is one which,—though it has been several times printed—as it has been related by an eye-witness, with all that vividness with which an eye-witness alone could relate it, we think it most suitable to present.  Our highly respected townsman, the late Robert Reeve, Esq., describing the storm of December 1770, says:—

“The dreadful storm on Wednesday the 19th instant, began about one o’clock in the morning, and continued with increasing violence till five; when the wind suddenly changed from the south-west to the north-west, and for two hours raged with a fury that was hardly ever equalled.  Anchors and cables proved too feeble a security for the ships, which instantly parting from them, and running on board each other, produced a confusion, neither to be described nor conceived: not a few immediately foundered; others were dismasted, and none escaped unhurt.  At daylight a scene of the most tragic distress was exhibited.  Those who first beheld it assert, that no less than eighteen ships were on the sand before this place at one and the same time; and many others were seen to sink.  Of those on the sand, one-half were entirely demolished, with their crews, before nine o’clock; the rest were preserved a few hours longer: but this dreadful pause served only to aggravate the destruction of the unhappy men who belonged to them, who betook themselves to the masts and rigging.  These continually breaking, eight or ten were not unfrequently seen to perish at a time, without the possibility of being assisted.  Fifteen only, about two in the afternoon, were taken off one of the wrecks; and about as many more were saved by taking to their boats, or getting on board other ships when they boarded each other.  It is impossible to collect with certainty how many lives, or how many ships, were lost in this terrible hurricane.  Twenty-five at least, perhaps thirty ships, and two hundred men, do not seem to be an exaggerated account.  This, indeed, is too small a calculation, if credit is to be given to one of the seamen, who declares he saw six vessels sink not far without the Stanford, among which was a large ship bound for Lisbon, with sixty or seventy passengers on board.  One or two of the ships which are lost belong to Yarmouth, and one to Plymouth; but the generality are colliers, and belong to Sunderland, Shields, and other places in the north.

“The concern this destructive scene occasioned to the spectators of it, was increased by the following circumstance.  When the masts of one of the ships, on which were eight or nine men, fell, two of them were some time afterwards seen struggling among the wreck; and at length, after unremitted efforts, got upon the hull.  In the afternoon, a pilot boat ventured from the shore; but it was found impracticable to administer any relief to the unfortunate sufferers, whom they were compelled to leave in their forlorn state; an approaching dark, cold, stormy night, heightened the horrors of their situation.  The next day, to the astonishment of every body, one of the men was observed to be alive; and about noon the boat again attempted to save him, and approached so near as to ask the poor fellow several questions; but the hull on which he was, being surrounded with wreck, and the sea running very high, it was impossible to rescue him from the impending danger.  He was at the stern of the ship: towards her head the sailors conceived it barely possible to board her with safety.  This they told the unhappy man they would attempt, and bid him walk to the place; but replying that he was too weak to change his situation, they were again obliged to leave him, making signs of his inconceivable distress.  The ensuing night put a period to his misfortunes and life.”

The following extracts from letters, written at the time, by the late Rev. B. Ritson, and the late G. Everett, Esq., and inserted in the public journals, have been supplied by Mr. H. B. Disney, one of the actors in the several scenes described.  The letters indicate at once the humanity of the writers, the fearful character of the danger to which the unfortunate sufferers were exposed; and the heroic bravery of the hearts which faced the storms, to rescue fellow men from watery graves.

The following accounts are by the late Rev. B. Ritson, many years Curate of Lowestoft.

“On Sunday morning last (Oct. 22nd, 1820) a heavy gale of wind from SS. W. was experienced at Lowestoft, which, towards noon, had increased almost to a hurricane; the whole sea was one continued foam, and a most tremendous surf broke upon the shore.  About twelve o’clock, the inhabitants of the town had the pain of witnessing the distress of a vessel, which, in attempting to gain the inner roads through the Stanford channel, struck upon a sand called the Beacon Ridge, and, in about seven minutes went to pieces, and all hands on board perished.  A second vessel soon after followed, and, in making the same attempt, met with the same melancholy fate, and all the crew were lost.  The loss of these two vessels, (names unknown) was so awfully sudden as to afford no time for assistance from shore.

“A third vessel, a sloop called the Sarah and Caroline, of Woodbridge, laden with coals, struck upon a sand called the Newcombe, and remained thereon with her mast standing; but, soon filling with water, the crew, consisting of five persons, took refuge in the shrouds.  Here their situation was most perilous; for as it was only half ebb tide,