And on the 12th of November, 1717, about four in the morning, another sudden and terrible fire broke out in this town, in the fish houses belonging to the co-heirs of Captain Josiah Mighels, then in the occupation of Joseph Smithson, which in a short space of time, entirely consumed the said houses; together with part of those houses belonging to William Mewse, which laid to the south, and part of those belonging to Mr. John Barker and Mr. Thomas Mighels, on the north. The wind blew pretty fresh at south east, so that the sparks flew over the town, and once actually fired the thatch of a house in the Swan Lane: but men and water being ready for that purpose, it was immediately stopped; and it pleasing God of his mercy both to damp the wind and to bring it more to the southward, the town escaped as a brand plucked out of the fire. The damage sustained by the fish houses was estimated at £1000.
And also on Sunday, July 30th, 1780, at one o’clock in the morning, the east Mill, at the north end of the town, by some cause unknown, took fire; which fire being communicated by a strong wind to another wind mill, situate about forty roods distance to the westward, they were both totally consumed.
The other misfortune to which the town of Lowestoft is peculiarly liable, and from which it has greatly suffered, is that of a dangerous coast, when exposed to violent storms. This is, in a great measure, owing to the singular nature of this coast, arising from its numerous sands and shoals, and not having any harbour, or other place of security, to protect the shipping from the violence of a storm; consequently they have been too often sacrificed to the fury of the relentless ocean.
It is impossible to describe every dreadful shipwreck and melancholy scene of distress which have happened on this dangerous coast, they being too numerous to be recounted, as well as painful to be related; it shall suffice, therefore, only to mention a few of the most remarkable ones, such as were attended with the most distressing circumstances, and exposed the unhappy seamen to the most alarming situations.
At the end of the annals of Norwich, a manuscript in the chapter archives, an account is given, that in the year of Christ 1530, in the night immediately following the 4th of November, a violent storm, as it were, all over England, happened; and the next day following, namely, the 5th day of the said month, about one in the afternoon, the lord cardinal Thomas Wolsey was seized in his own house, at Cahowe, within his diocese of York; and afterwards, in his journey towards London, in the vigil St. Andrew next following he died at Leicester, upon which day a storm, as if from Hell—(a remarkable instance of the prejudice of the times; and shews how much better Christianity is understood in this more liberal and enlightened age)—again happened almost all over England, by the fury of which at Lowestoft, within the diocese of Norwich, and elsewhere in divers places within the realm of England, many ships were lost.
On the 30th July, 1730, happened in this town and neighbourhood, a most remarkable storm, accompanied with a dreadful tempest of thunder, lightning, and hail; the hailstones were of such prodigious magnitude as to measure from six to nine inches in circumference, and descended with such violence, as to break all the glass windows on the west side of the town, which cost the inhabitants £300 to repair the damage. All the corn was beat down and spoiled, for about a mile in breadth and three in length.
On December 24th, 1739, that severe frost called the hard winter, commenced with a violent gale of wind; when sixteen sail of ships were driven ashore on the coast between Yarmouth and Lowestoft, and were all totally lost, after their respective crews had undergone the severest hardships from the inclemency of the weather.
And in another storm, which happened on the 15th of December, 1757, twenty two sail of ships were driven ashore on the coast between Yarmouth and Kessingland, the greater part of which were lost. A particular account of the damage each ship sustained was soon after published in the London Gazette.
But the most dreadful storm that ever happened on this coast in the memory of man, was that of the 18th of December, 1770. The following account of which was written by Mr. Robert Reeve, attorney-at-law, and merchant at Lowestoft, who was a spectator of this dreadful scene, and was published in the Ipswich Journal of the 29th December, as follows:
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 south-west to the north-west, and for two hours raged with 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 founded, others were dismasted, and none escaped unhurt. At day-light a scene of the most tragic distress wag exhibited; those who first beheld it assert, no less than eighteen ships were upon the sand before this place at one and the same time, and many others were seen to sink; of those upon 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 were 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 unremmitted efforts, got upon the hull. In the afternoon, the 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, heightening the horrors of their situation. The next day to the astonishment of everybody, 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 high, it was impossible to rescue 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 and bid him walk to the place, but replying 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 an end to his misfortunes and life. [34] If such calamities as these, which are the dispensations of Providence, occasion any painful reflections, how great must our emotions be to consider the thousands of lives wantonly butchered in wars, killed merely to gratify the whim of princes, to feed the ambition of aspiring men, or to furnish men of dissipation with the means of indulging their excesses? To a dispassionate mind it seems equally wicked and absurd, that great civilized nations should sacrifice the property, the repose and the lives of their subjects to determine which of them has the best right to a desert, as truly worthless to them as if it was placed in the satellites of Jupiter.