The Tornadoes of 1821
In Connecticut, the Yantic river was so full and the force of the water so great that the channel was considerably deepened in some places by the removal of large stones. One that weighed more than a ton, and which had been placed in the bed of the stream many years before to support a foot bridge, was raised and carried up into a meadow where it was thrown against a large tree. The six bridges that then spanned the river were all carried away. Three of them were at Norwich, two in Bozrah (one at Colonel Fitch's iron-works, and the other at Bozrahville), and one in Franklin. The oil-mill at Bean hill was swept away, and the oil-mill and the machine-shop near the falls at Norwich were much injured. A considerable amount of flax-seed was carried away from an oil-mill, and by the middle of May several meadows adjoining the river below the mill were covered with growing flax. At Norwich, a bridge that had been built in 1817 at an expense of ten thousand dollars, and which was supported by heavy stone piers, was lifted entire and carried down the stream in its usual position till it came to the rapids near the mouth of the river, when it separated into three parts, gliding with a graceful motion into the Thames. On the Wharf bridge, as it was called, several buildings were moved, some being partly turned round. The most interesting feature of the freshet was the carrying away of the Methodist chapel which stood on the bridge. It had been decorated with evergreens for some festive occasion, and they had not been removed when the building was swept from its foundations. It moved along like a majestic ship, bowing to the waves, then righting itself again. For a mile it retained its uptight position, and the frame held together until it had passed into the Sound. The incident gave rise to many exaggerated stories, the newspapers alleging that the church bore off both pastor and flock who were singing as they passed New London. Another report came that the church had successfully landed on one of the islands, and that notice had been given that services would be held there in the future. The schooner Fame, bound from Charleston, S. C., to Bridgeport, was in the harbor, and nearly collided with the building. The crew reported that it gallantly sailed by them in the night, being brilliantly lighted. The poet Brainard heard of the incident, and wrote some lines about it, which he entitled "The Captain." The following are a part of them: —
"Solemn he paced upon that schooner's deck,
And muttered of his hardships: — 'I have been
Where the wild will of Mississippi's tide
Has dashed me on the sawyer; I have sailed
In the thick night, along the wave-washed edge
Of ice, in acres, by the pitiless coast
Of Labrador; and I have scraped my keel
O'er coral rocks in Madagascar seas;
And often, in my cold and midnight watch,
Have heard the warning voice of the lee shore
Speaking in breakers! Ay, and I have seen
The whale and sword-fish fight beneath my bows;
And, when they made the deep boil like a pot.
Have swung into its vortex; and I know
To cord my vessel with a sailor's skill.
And brave such dangers with a sailor's heart; —
But never yet, upon the stormy wave,
Or where the river mixes with the main.
Or in the chafing anchorage of the bay,
In all my rough experience of harm,
Met I — a Methodist meeting-house!
"Cat-head, or beam, or davit has it none,
Starboard nor larboard, gunwale, stem nor stern!
It comes in such a 'questionable shape.'
I cannot even speak it! Up jib, Josey,
And make for Bridgeport! There, where Stratford point.
Long beach, Fairweather island, and the buoy
Are safe from such encounters, we'll protest!
And Yankee legends long shall tell the tale.
That once a Charleston schooner was beset.
Riding at anchor, by a meeting-house!' "
And muttered of his hardships: — 'I have been
Where the wild will of Mississippi's tide
Has dashed me on the sawyer; I have sailed
In the thick night, along the wave-washed edge
Of ice, in acres, by the pitiless coast
Of Labrador; and I have scraped my keel
O'er coral rocks in Madagascar seas;
And often, in my cold and midnight watch,
Have heard the warning voice of the lee shore
Speaking in breakers! Ay, and I have seen
The whale and sword-fish fight beneath my bows;
And, when they made the deep boil like a pot.
Have swung into its vortex; and I know
To cord my vessel with a sailor's skill.
And brave such dangers with a sailor's heart; —
But never yet, upon the stormy wave,
Or where the river mixes with the main.
Or in the chafing anchorage of the bay,
In all my rough experience of harm,
Met I — a Methodist meeting-house!
"Cat-head, or beam, or davit has it none,
Starboard nor larboard, gunwale, stem nor stern!
It comes in such a 'questionable shape.'
I cannot even speak it! Up jib, Josey,
And make for Bridgeport! There, where Stratford point.
Long beach, Fairweather island, and the buoy
Are safe from such encounters, we'll protest!
And Yankee legends long shall tell the tale.
That once a Charleston schooner was beset.
Riding at anchor, by a meeting-house!' "
Source: Historic Storms of New England by Sidney Perley, 1891
