346l. 2s. 6d., which was thankfully and gratefully received.
Many other fires have occurred since then, the vestiges of which remain to this day; one in particular, known by the appropriate name of the burnt wall, is still pointed out to the notice of the stranger. Part of this land has been lately purchased by the Wesleyans, who have erected a small chapel upon it, which answers also for a school-room, and where preaching is held on Friday evenings.
But the conflagration which happened on the 2nd April, 1841, has effaced the memory of all other events of the same nature. It broke out in the house of a person carrying on the business of a straw bonnet-maker, after the family had retired to rest, and it was only discovered in time for the inmates to make their escape by jumping from the upper windows.
A few moments after it was first perceived, the walls fell, and the flames burst forth with a fearful rapidity, curling and twisting themselves in all directions; seizing upon every thing within their reach, and illuminating the heavens with their awfully grand lustre. The church bell tolled forth its solemn warning; drums beat an alarm; and, in the words of an old writer, when describing the fire in London in 1666, “dreadful screams disturbed the midnight quiet, and raised the affrighted people from their beds, who, scarce awake, all seemed to be a dream. Each one appeared but as a moving statue, as once Lot’s wife, viewing her flaming Sodom, was transformed into a pillar.”
So saith “Samuel Wiseman,” and his graphic description answers equally for the fire of Antigua, as it did in yore, for that of London.
House after house, store after store, fell beneath the raging element; or, when built of stone, only their bare and blackened walls were left standing. No sooner was one house on fire, than the flames were pouring into the windows of the next; scathing the trees as they passed, dismantling them of their verdure, and leaving them only a seared and withered trunk. Again the Custom House fell a victim, and to this cause many deficiencies in the statistical part of this work may be attributed; for, from the suddenness and violence of the fire, many valuable records were lost.
Still the fiery deluge rolled on,—at one moment the sky was almost hidden by the dense masses of smoke; at another, bright spiral lines of flame shot up into the air, and cast a lurid light on all around. I am sorry to record it, but the negro-men behaved very ill, refusing to lend assistance, (in most instances,) but employing their time in plundering from the sufferers. To the glory of the women, be it spoken, they did not follow the example of their kinsmen, but cheerfully and firmly laboured through that awful night. The crew of two French ships of war, which chanced to be lying in the harbour, also assisted, aided by the sailors from the English and island vessels; and the gentlemen of the town, headed by the lieutenant-governor, Major McPhail, (who flew to the scene of danger stockingless and almost slipperless,) worked with undaunted courage and good-will; and by dint of energy, and pulling down several small houses, so as to make room for the flames in their gyral evolutions, at length succeeded in gaining the mastery over their formidable enemy.
But, alas! when morning came, and threw a steady light upon the picture, what a melancholy sight was presented to the view. A long line of building, including the best and finest houses, entirely destroyed; lumber-yards and warehouses despoiled of their goods, and the very streets strewed ankle-deep with burnt salt-fish, peas, rice, flour, and similar articles! In some parts might be seen groups of negroes carousing around some gutted dwelling, tearing out the burning provisions, and, amid all this desolation and the mournful feelings of men, who, in one short night, had lost that for which they had toiled for years, shouting forth from their stentorian lungs snatches of some bacchanalian song, or allowing their vacant heartless laugh to vibrate painfully upon the silent morning air.
Ever and anon, the smouldering fire sent up some fitful glare; or a brilliant coruscation of sparks, shot forth from some still burning log of pitch-pine, gilded the surrounding scene with their beautiful but dangerous showers. The fire burnt down to the sea-side; seizing upon the very timber of the wharfs and cranes, and destroying them to the water’s edge. The amount of damage has been estimated at 250,000l. sterling; but the loss is more than can be calculated, for it has despoiled and depopulated one of the finest and busiest streets in the town, and which, from the depressed state of trade, will be long, very long, before it is again rebuilt.
More than eight months have silently rolled by since that awful cry of “Fire” awoke the Antiguans from their tranquil slumbers, and sent a thrill of dismay through the hearts of all. And there stand the ruins, blackened and cracked by the intense heat which caused the very glass to pour down in streams, which, when congealed, appeared like icicles; or else, only shewing by the open space, where the ill-fated dwellings stood—where the voice of happy infancy once uttered many a jocund shout—or where the soft full tone of riper years carolled many a light and gladsome lay. Long grass and luxuriant weeds have already grown up in the spot once dedicated to business or pleasure, and the bat and the lizard have made it their own.