1778 — Dec 26-27, Blizzard, New England, esp. MA and RI, brig Arnold, sloop Stark–>153
—>153 Blanchard tally based on State breakouts below.[1]
–>125 Snow. Tales of Terror and Tragedy. 1979, p. 191.
— >50 Wilson. “Weather History: Dec 26…,” Wilmington Weather Examiner, Dec 25, 2009.
Maine ( 1)
–1 Kittery. Hypothermia outdoors; Reverend Chase. (Ludlum, p. 111.)
Massachusetts (100-102)
— 1 Boston Neck. Driver of team of oxen and horse found frozen standing upright. Ludlum 111.
–20 Nantucket. Crew from sloop General Stark, after grounding onshore. (Ludlum, p. 111.)
–81 Dec 26, Privateer brig General Arnold grounds, White Flats, Plymouth Bay, MA.[2]
–79 Dec 26, Privateer brig General Arnold grounds, White Flats, Plymouth Bay, MA.[3]
–66 Plymouth Bay shore. Crew of armed brig Arnold, after grounding. (Ludlum, p. 111.)[4]
Rhode Island ( >50)
—>50 Newport and vicinity. Ludlum, p. 111.[5]
— 3 Newport, Dec 26. (We translate “several men lost their lives” to “3”.) Ludlum, 110
— 3 Newport, Dec 26. Soldiers from Bunau’s Regiment. (Ludlum p. 110.)
— 1 Newport, Dec 26. Artillery soldier. (Ludlum p. 110.)
— 1 Newport, Dec 26. Soldier from Brown’s Regiment. (Ludlum p. 110.)
— 9 Newport. German (Hessian) mercenaries; hypothermia. (Wilson and Ludlum.)
— 3 Newport, no date. Mother and her two children.
Narrative Information
Ludlum: “The storm reached its greatest development in the vicinity of coastal Rhode Island. The center probably passed close to Block Island any may have hesitated in that area for six to 10 hours as often happens in a blocking situation…..
“Lt. Frederick Mackenzie of the Royal Engineers was stationed with the British at Newport at the entrance to Narragansett Bay… He described the onset of the developing storm and its destructive effects most vividly:
….Dec 27….Most of the Inhabitants were obliged to cut passages thro the Snow this Morning, in order to get out of their houses. Several men lost their lives yesterday, and may were frost bitten….[6]
“….The great storm struck all coastal New England a heavy blow. At Newport, appropriately, it was long called ‘The Hessian Storm’ Colonel Popp, a German mercenary from Hesse-Cassel, has related in his diary that nine men in one regiment alone were frozen to death at their posts during the storm period, and that a woman resident of Newport and her two children suffered a similar fate.[7] One historian of Revolutionary Newport estimated that at least 50 persons in the vicinity, military and civilian, died of freezing or the results of frostbite.[8]
“Around Massachusetts Bay the event ever since has been called ‘The Magee Storm’ in memory of the brave captain of the armed brig Arnold.[9] His ship had sailed from Boston into the teeth of the storm and was subsequently cast on the shore of Plymouth Bay after a desperate struggle with the mighty northeast gales which created an overwhelming wave surge. Of a crew of over 100 men, only 34 survived the rigors of the elements that wintry night though many had gained the shore, but were unable to find adequate shelter on the bare, sandy beaches.[10] Out at Nantucket the sloop General Stark, ran ashore with the loss of 20 hands. Many reports of wrecks came from points on the southern New England shore, Long Island, and New Jersey.[11]
“At Kittery in southern Maine a prominent pastor, Rev. Chase, fell victim to the numbing cold and was later discovered frozen to death in a field.[12] In another instance at Boston Neck, a driver with his team of four oxen and a horse were found after the winds subsided, solidly congealed and still standing rigidly upright.[13] Rev. Cutler at Ipswich, a weather observer of experience, could truthfully say: ‘Such a storm has not been known in the memory of men.’[14]” (Ludlum “The Hessian Storm of December 1778,” Early American Winters, pp. 109-110.)
Snow: “The blizzard of 1778, concentrating on Rhode Island, was the first recorded blizzard. It killed 125 people; probably many more were not even reported.”
Snow (Tales of Terror and Tragedy): “One of the most melancholy disasters in the entire history of Plymouth, Massachusetts, was the shipwreck of the armed brigantine General Arnold in 1778. More people perished in this marine tragedy than died in that first terrible winter which the Pilgrims endured back in 1620.” (Snow. Tales of Terror and Tragedy. 1979, p. 191.)
“The General Arnold sailed from Nantasket Road, Boston Harbor, on Thursday, December 24, 1778, in company with the privateer Revenge. Bound for the West Indies, the two vessels were still inside Cape Cod when a snow storm began. The superior sailing qualities of the Revenge enabled her captain, Barrows by name, to beat around the Race at Cape Cod and escape the worst of the storm so that she does not figure again in our chronicle.
“Captain James Magee of the Arnold, unable to follow the other craft, sailed for Plymouth but arrived off the Cornet, the outer arm of Plymouth Harbor, after night bad fallen. Although less than a mile from the friendly gleam of Gurnet Light, he anchored his vessel rather than risk the treacherous waters of the inner harbor without a pilot. By midnight the storm had intensified to a gale, and the General Arnold, off a lee shore, was now in great danger.
“The master prepared his brigantine against the increasing fury of the sea. Sixteen of the vessel’s twenty guns were lowered below decks, the topmasts were struck, and the sails snugly furled. Long scopes were given to the cable holding the anchor, and every other possible precaution was taken. The waves rose higher and higher. As the great breakers crashed against her, the vessel quivered and shook until finally the General Arnold began to drag anchor. Slowly but surely she drifted toward the shoals of Plymouth Bay, and Captain Magee realized there was little hope of saving his craft.
“Uncertain of their fate, the men stood ready for the moment when the brigantine would scrape bottom. Suddenly, with a tremor that jarred the ship from stem to stern, the General Arnold grounded on the sands of White Flats. The captain ordered the masts cut away, and the crew disappeared below for axes. An unfortunate incident now occurred.
“After what seemed an unnecessarily long interval, Captain Magee heard a loud clamor coming up through the hatchway, and went down to investigate. There he discovered that several members of the crew, instead of coming up on deck with their axes, had smashed into the liquor stores and were drinking heavily. It was truly a desperate situation, with his vessel ashore on a lee beach, the waves getting higher every hour, the ship slowly sinking into the sands, and now his crew drunk below deck.
“Captain Magee, however, did not falter. Pleading with some, bullying others, and physically assisting those who needed it, he managed to get his men back on deck, and finally the masts were cut away. All hands were allowed to go below into the cabin where they settled themselves for the night, but few were able to fall asleep. Hour by hour the storm increased in fury, until it reached an intensity seldom equaled in the annals of Plymouth history. For years afterwards other storms of unusual severity were compared with the…Gale of 1778.
“Rolling and thumping, grinding its way lower and lower into the White Flat sands, the General Arnold was enduring a terrific battering from the sea. The seams began to open. Water first trickled, then poured into the crowded cabin where within an hour it had reached a depth of three feet. Since there was nothing else to do but to return to the wave-swept deck of the brigantine, the 105 men and boys started for the companion hatchway and soon reached the comparative safety of the quarter deck.
“It was apparent, however, that there was not room for all of them without extreme discomfort as they had to lie on top of each other three and four deep….To give some protection from the elements, a sail was stretched from the topsail boom on the port side to the starboard quarter rail, and under this tentlike covering the men huddled together. Meanwhile the ship was gradually working itself lower and lower into the sand.
“With the coming of dawn, Saturday, there was no letup in the severity of the tempest. The snowfall was so heavy that some of the men, unable to move, were suffocated where they lay. Instead of getting lighter as the day wore on, the sky actually grew darker and darker, while the flakes were so thick that objects a few feet away became invisible. The sea mounted in fury, until each wave which hit the ship drenched the shivering men with icy spray, and the men could do nothing except lie still and endure their suffering.
“As the afternoon wore on, the officers gradually abandoned any thoughts of disciplining the sailors and prepared themselves for death. Captain Magee portioned out the remainder of the rum, advising the sailors to pour it down their boots as the alcohol had a lower freezing point than the water which was soaking them. The use of the rum in this manner is said to have saved the lives of several of the men.
“But the strain of the unequal struggle with the sea was starting to tell on the men. Captain John Russell, a tall, powerful officer, was the first to die. Capable of tremendous endurance, he had been calling on his followers for patience and fortitude when he suddenly fell heavily on the deck and rose no more.
“By now the water on the main deck was ankle deep, and the men prayed for the tide to turn. If the sea rose a foot or two higher, the brigantine would break up. Just as daylight faded, however, the tide began to go out, and the survivors were heartened considerably. Many said later that the receding waters gave them the courage to fight for their existence during the night.
“At dead low water the wreck was half exposed on White Flats. Although the spray did not hit the men on the quarter deck now, another danger threatened. When the wind veered to the northwest around midnight, the weather grew much colder, and the clothes of the men stiffened on them. Many froze to death before morning, and together with those who had fallen overboard or had been suffocated by the snow, more than thirty had now perished.
“But the blackness of the night finally ended, and the men looked out on calmer seas. The brigantine’s yawl under the port gangboard was put over, and three volunteers offered to row for help. They started away from the vessel with the cries and prayers of the others in their ears, but the three never returned. Those left on the General Arnold watched the men row over to the edge of the solid ice, climb out of the yawl, and walk toward a schooner a half mile away. Disappearing aboard the schooner, they evidently abandoned their comrades to their fate, for they were not seen afterwards.
“Bitterly disappointed with the turn of events, the freezing survivors decided to try to attract the attention of the residents of Plymouth and raised a great cry for help. Captain Magee tied a handkerchief to a stick and waved it frantically in an effort to be seen. The people in Plymouth had seen them hours before, however. Small dories which had set out had been trapped in the heavy ice floes, and the attempts at rescue by boat had to be abandoned. A causeway was begun out over the floe to the . brigantine but was still a long way from the vessel when darkness fell. Now began the coldest night of all.
“When the last glimmer of daylight bad gone and there was still no help from shore, the more discouraged of the sailors collapsed on deck and quickly perished. In a few hours only half the 105 who bad sailed from Boston were still alive. That night below zero weather together with a biting, icy wind swept the Massachusetts coast, and the survivors aboard the wreck of the General Arnold had to take unusual measures to resist the cold.
“Working desperately, the men piled up the bodies of their dead comrades in a protective heap around them to keep out the wind, and then sat down in a circle, their legs crossed over one another. By constantly moving their legs back and forth they kept alive the circulation in their bodies. When one of them fell asleep, he would receive a violent shove from his nearest companion, and thus would be brought back to life. In this way the survivors passed the night.
“The first gray streaks of dawn appeared, and Monday’s sun rose in a cloudless sky. The General Arnold’s quarter deck that morning was covered with the dead and the dying. Many of the bodies lay just as the men had perished, with their arms and legs bent in grotesque positions. Some were erect, others sitting, sonic half crouching with their hands on their knees, and still others frozen to death with their hands straight out from their bodies.
“The men from Plymouth renewed the building of the causeway at dawn and were making rapid progress out over the ice floe. Two hours before noon they were within hailing distance of the death ship. Soon the sleds and boards were pushed close to the brigantine, and contact was at last established.
“It is said that the Plymouth men who stepped aboard the General Arnold. that bitter morning never forgot the sight which greeted them. The victims were all huddled together in various positions on the quarter deck, and it was impossible to distinguish between the dead and those still alive.
“One of the survivors, Barnabas Downs of Barnstable, was lying helpless on the deck as the rescuers walked around him. This Cape Cod lad was so numbed by the cold that he was unable to indicate in any way that be was still alive. He heard himself referred to as one of the dead and feared that he would be left behind until too late. As one of the Plymouth men walked toward him, Downs made a supreme effort and succeeded in rolling his eyes at the man, who noticed the movement. The Barnstable Sailor was then taken down over the side and placed on a sled, which was pulled over the causeway to the shore.
“Barnabas Downs was taken into one of the Plymouth homes, where a large tank of cold water was waiting. After three hours’ immersion in the cold water, he revived enough to suffer excruciating pains as the blood began to circulate through his thawing limbs. He later said that the pain was much worse while he was regaining his circulation than when he was freezing out on the brigantine. All the other survivors were brought ashore and given the same treatment.
“When Captain James Magee was brought ashore, be attributed his survival to the fact that he poured the rum down his boots instead of down his throat, as some of the others had done. Those who drank the rum to excess died within a few hours.
“Seventy of the dead men were brought to Plymouth, where over a score were placed in the town brook to thaw out their bodies. It was arranged to have a mass funeral at the Plymouth Court House. The strain was so great during the services that the preacher, Reverend Mr. Dobbins, fainted. A large grave to hold the seventy men was prepared in the town cemetery, but not until 1862 was a monument erected to these Revolutionary War heroes.
“Many of the men aboard the General Arnold came from Cape Cod, but the deep snow prevented word of the disaster leaving Plymouth for several days. The terrible tidings finally arrived at Barnstable, where twelve of the men lived. Barnabas Downs, Senior, Mr. Oris Bacon, and others, started out by horseback to Plymouth, but when they reached the scene of the wreck only the young Downs boy was still alive. All the other eleven men had perished.
“Downs expressed a desire to be taken back home, but the roads were still impassable for a carriage. John Timelier constructed an improvised ambulance which be slung between two horses. After a feather bed was placed on the sling, young Barnabas was tenderly lowered upon it. The lengthy and painful journey to Barnstable now began, but the boy was in great agony long before the lights of Barnstable were seen that evening. Although given the best of medical attention and care, Barnabas Downs never fully recovered as he lost the use of his feet altogether and had to walk on his knees for the rest of his life.
“Of the 105 men who sailed from Boston Harbor, only thirty-three were brought ashore alive, and nine of them died shortly afterwards. Fifteen men recovered completely from their experience, while eight others were crippled for life….
“Some eighty years after the tragedy a benevolent gentleman of Plymouth noticed the unmarked graves in the Plymouth cemetery, and paid for a monument erected in 1862 to the memory of those who perished in die gale. But for those who had gone aboard the shipwreck that December day in 1778 to rescue the survivors, no monument was needed to remember the occasion, for they never forgot the terrible scenes they witnessed aboard the brigantine General Arnold, and their descendants still tell today the story of the “Captain Magee Storm of 1778”.” (Snow. Storms and Shipwrecks of New England 1943, 64-72)
Wilson: “1778. The Hessian Storm dumped 18 inches of snow from parts of Pennsylvania to New England. Snow drifts were reported as high as 16 feet in Rhode Island. More than 50 people froze to death in the subzero weather that followed the snow. The storm was named for 9 German mercenaries who froze to death at their posts in Newport, RI. Many ships were wrecked in the terrible gales that accompanied the storm, including the General Arnold, an American ship that sunk off Plymouth, MA. The storm was named for troops occupying Rhode Island during the Revolutionary War.” (Wilson. “Weather History: December 26: Record Warm/Heat, Cold, Snowstorm / Blizzard and Ice,” Wilmington Weather Examiner, December 25, 2009.)
Sources
Browne, Patrick. “The Grim Fate of the Privateer ‘General Arnold’.” Historical Digression blog. Accessed 10-24-2017 at: https://historicaldigression.com/2011/10/25/the-grim-fate-of-the-privateer-general-arnold/
Ludlum, David M. Early American Winters 1604-1820. Boston: American Meteorological Society, 1966.
Snow, Edward Rowe. Storms and Shipwrecks of New England. Boston: Yankee Pub. Co., 1943.
Snow, Edward Rowe. Tales of Terror and Tragedy. NY: Dodd, Mead and Co., 1979.
Wilson, Charlie. “Weather History: December 26: Record Warm/Heat, Cold, Snowstorm / Blizzard and Ice,” Wilmington Weather Examiner, December 25, 2009. Accessed at: http://www.examiner.com/x-4645-Wilmington-Weather-Examiner~y2009m12d25-Weather-History-December-26-Record-WarmHeat-Cold-SnowstormBlizzard-and-Ice
[1] Our tally of State breakouts below totals 151-153. However, descriptions of the storm clearly indicate there were other maritime losses than the two noted here. In addition, given the broad geographical coverage of the storm/blizzard, From upper northeast Pennsylvania through NY and NJ and New England, and the extreme cold that accompanied the storm, there surely were additional fatalities than those captured here.
[2] Snow, Edward Rowe. Storms and Shipwrecks of New England. 1943, p. 72.
[3] “….70 men perished on board the General Arnold. 33 were brought ashore alive, of whom nine later died….The victims were buried in an unmarked mass grave on Burial Hill in Plymouth.” (Patrick Browne. “The Grim Fate of the Privateer ‘General Arnold’.” Historical Digression blog. Accessed 10-24-2017.)
[4] Not used in that Ludlum noted that there were over 100 men onboard, with but 34 surviving, and in that the Browne narrative is much more detailed.
[5] “One historian of Revolutionary Newport estimated that at least 50 persons in the vicinity, military and civilian, died of freezing or the results of frostbite.” (Cites: Samuel G. Arnold. History of the State of Rhode Island…)
[6] F. Mackenzie. Diary, 2, p. 437.
[7] Cites: A Hessian soldier in the American Revolution; the diary of Stephen Poll. Reinhart J. Pope, trans. Racine, Wis. (?), private print, 1953.
[8] Cites: Samuel G. Arnold. History of the State of Rhode Island and Providence Plantation. New York, D. Appleton & Co., 1860, 2, 434.
[9] Cites: Edward R. Snow, Great storms and famous shipwrecks of the New England coast. Boston, The Yankee Publishing Co., 1943, 65-72.
[10] Cites: Mass. Gaz., 7 Jan, in N. J. Gaz., 20 Jan 1779.
[11] Cites: Mass. Gaz., 11 Jan, in N. J. Gaz. 27 Jan 1779.
[12] Cites: T. Smith. Journal, 239.
[13] Idem.
[14] M. Cutler, Life, 1, 73.