Great Storm of Wind and Rain
Great Rain Storm - On Monday the 14th of April, a deluging rain came on about noon and continued till about 9 o'clock the next day, the following graphic account of it appeared in the Hastings News.
On Tuesday morning there was water, water, if not everywhere, certainly in a good many places where it ought not to be. The watershed that throws its water into the Priory meadows is a large one. There are large streams from the valley leading to the Union House, from the valley leading to the Old Roar, from the valley leading by the Eversfield Waterworks to the Tivoli, besides other smaller valleys, all throwing their water into the Priory meadows. In the good old times there was a bridge at the Priory, and the stream bed was allowed to carry its water undisturbed into the sea. Then we had no floods, or we had them very rarely. But the march of civilisation has thrown down the bridge, as substituted a more appropriate for our iron age, an iron culvert of rather puny dimensions. Besides, the railway has thrown a rather large embankment over a great part of the Priory Meadows, and thus lessened the area available for any accidental overflow. During the latter part of Monday and throughout Monday night, we had something like a tornado [forshadowed by a large lunar halo the night before]. Rain and wind kept boisterous company, the latter bellowing bass to the treble splashing of the former. Extempore streamlets established themselves everywhere sweeping ruthlessly over the pedestrian's shoes, as well as deepening the furrows in the ploughed fields; whilst countless cascades dropped from every house and every tree. The Old Roar, proverbial for its gentleness of voice was roused to proper dignity and made itself heard like distant thunder in the town itself. The first warning of the coming torrent was given about midnight, and before two o'clock an immense body of water had surged and eddied and dashed over barriers and through outlets until it reached the Priory Meadow. Here the wind swept it on with amazing violence; and, in coming in contact with the lower road leading to the station, it bounded over the bank and threw its spray into mid-air like the waves of the sea. Our Council, envious of the immortal Canute, have for many years stereotyped the command 'thus far shalt thou go and no farther!' Canute failed - his voice was powerless; but our Council have succeeded only too well. When this torrent of a hundred streams reached the railway bank it found that its egress was by a narrow iron pass through which the streams were obliged to march single file. Like a rebel crowd, those that were left waiting got angry and chafed, broke into people's houses, barricaded the roads and caused as much confusion as they could. The houses most exposed were those built on the left-hand side of the lower railway road. These were completely surrounded by water and the lower floor half-full. Fortunately, the inmates received timely warning, and were enabled to make some preparations. Early in the morn
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