Eye of the stormWeather lashed out at early Liverpool![]() The Mersey River, peeking between buildings on this view looking down toward Water Street, where the Mersey meets the brackish Atlantic. Photo courtesy Queens County Museum. "I've lived in good climate and it bores the hell out of me. I like weather rather than climate." – John Steinbeck
While we may be inclined to quickly complain about the varying day-to-day temperatures, the occasional windstorm, or even an odd heavy snowfall here in Nova Scotia, the reality is that today, in the 21st century, Mother Nature does not quite have the same impact on our lives that she once did on our ancestors' existence. An occasional hurricane or blizzard might throw things temporarily into chaos every few years, but technological advances and the development of social infrastructure have all but assured that any interruption of the norm brought about by a typical storm will be short-lived. But such was not the case two centuries ago. An unexpected storm or surging tides could present devastation that would set a family, or even an entire community, back for years. This was particularly true in the 18th and 19th centuries, when the only provincial highway was the sea and the only guaranteed supplies to be had were those in one's own backyard or cellar. One of the earliest recorded violent low-pressure systems that visited this region took place in the overnight hours of January 19 and 20, 1813, bringing with it an assortment of different climatic conditions to Queens County's doorstep. On the evening of January 19, with unusually warm conditions in the southern half of the province, a brisk wind swept across the region for several hours, lasting into the next morning. By sunrise the following day, the wind had subsided, but had been replaced by a brilliant thunder and lightning storm. The thunderhead that spawned the storm eventually moved out of the region before the noon hour, but with the cold front that caused the thunderous conditions wafting to the northeast, a strong gale from the southeast blew in behind the system. Compounding matters, by the early afternoon, the wind had swung around and was no longer blowing warmer air out of the south, but a harsh, cold breeze out of the north. The resulting winds were also accompanied by a sudden ocean surge, roughly six feet above its normal level, rushing into Liverpool's harbour. The resulting storm surge swept vessels at the wharves away, their mooring lines snapping in the swells, some ships even taking their wharf posts with them. A total of five vessels were swamped up the Mersey River, above Liverpool. Near Milton, even more destruction occurred when the winter's ice pack was floated by the surging tidal waters. The swollen ice crushed against the wooden support structure of the bridge spanning the river near Milton's falls, destroying the bridge in little time. And while the waters did subside within an hour, to top the whole experience off, an extended period of freezing rain and hail reportedly followed the swells. At the mouth of the Mersey River, a large brig and another smaller ship were effectively pulled out into open waters when the storm surge began to recede. So severe and utterly shocking was the day's storm that when a low rumbling was heard once again later in the afternoon, a number of locals assumed that it was the rolling of an earthquake, rather than simply the shuddering of a final passing thunderhead. Ironically, despite the destruction, the strange weather system that descended upon the region on January 19 and 20, 1813, was not necessarily an altogether negative experience for the people of Liverpool. With the outbreak of the War of 1812, most of Britain's naval fleet was ordered to remain in Halifax for the winter season. Typically, the British Admiralty would order the fleet to Bermuda in late November for the duration of the winter, all in the name of avoiding the ill effects of winter weather on the wooden hulls of the fleet. But the declaration of war between the United States and Britain meant that, once again, the Nova Scotia coastline would be open to attacks by American privateers. If the tactics of the Revolutionary War decades earlier were any indication, then both shipping and settlements alike along the South Shore could be open to assault. While the winds of that winter season in 1813 may have whipped waters up against wharves and homes at Liverpool and elsewhere along the Mersey River, critically, the weather may also have spared the citizens of Queens County a more tumultuous fate. Those same storms occasionally served as a barrier to discourage brazen American privateers from descending upon the community, giving residents and British naval officials alike ample time to prepare their own coastal defences in anticipation of the raiders' onslaught - a virtual certainty for the following summer. But the trauma of the wintery surge of 1813 was far from an isolated incident. A similar storm, more than four decades later, wrought much destruction in the Liverpool Township, and even took a handful of lives. It was another January storm that descended upon the region on the 18th day of the month in the year 1855, which spurred Queens County chronicler James More to claim it to be "one of the most terrific storms ever known." Once again, a rapidly rising tide and high winds sent the Liverpool waterfront and other Queens County locales into a state of chaos. The brig Delegate, loose from its moorings, eventually was driven aground off the Gull Islands. The wharves at Hunts Point, to the southwest, were obliterated by the incoming force of the waves lashing against the shoreline. Elsewhere, a large fish store and flake were heaved violently into the Atlantic Ocean. The storm also ravaged other nearby communities, with damage reported at Port Mouton, Port Joli and a host of additional coastal settlements. But the most remarkable damage caused by the weather system took place in Liverpool proper. While basements and properties, particularly those along old Water Street, were badly damaged by floodwaters, several waterfront wharves were also ripped from their landings, the storm surge plucking a number of vessels, large and small, from their posts, scattering them along the shoreline. The ship Queen of the Seas, which had been held in place by a pair of large anchors and ample chains, was tossed about and ended up going ashore on the opposite side of the community's harbour. Elsewhere, the barque Wave went astray from its waterfront home and drifted nearly as far as Fort Point. The following day, after pursuing the Wave to Fort Point, locals also discovered that the schooner Rambler, which had dropped anchor in the vicinity of Fort Point during the storm while on its way from Halifax to Boston, had run aground on the rocks near the point. The ship and its large cargo of herring were immediately declared a total wreck, and it was discovered that all six men on board the vessel were drowned when she smashed apart on the shoreline. The bodies of the crew were eventually recovered from the wreckage and interred near Fort Point. The experience was one that was long remembered by the citizens of Liverpool. Though similar storms may cause short-term inconveniences today, most have nowhere near the ramifications similar weather phenomena had in the first century of settlement in Queens County. While a mild, unexpected storm could cause a season's worth of work to be lost at the hands of floodwaters or destructive winds, a larger, more menacing atmospheric event could easily claim one's life. Sources: More, James F., "The History of Queens County"; "Diary of Simeon Perkins, 1780-1789," published by The Champlain Society; "Diary of Simeon Perkins, 1804-1812," published by The Champlain Society. Written and researched by Patrick Hirtle. |
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