Page 337 - A Jacobite Exile

There was a tremendous crash, and, running out into the street, they saw a
mass of beams and tiles lying in the roadway-- a house two doors away had

been completely unroofed. They felt that, in such a storm, it was really
impossible to proceed, and accordingly returned to their lodgings,

performing the distance in a fraction of the time it had before taken them.

For some hours the gale continued to increase in fury. Not a soul was to be

seen in the streets. Occasional heavy crashes told of the damage that was
being wrought, and, at times, the house shook so that it seemed as if it

would fall.

Never was such a storm known in England. The damage done was

enormous. The shores were strewn with wrecks. Twelve ships of the royal
navy, with fifteen hundred men, were lost; and an enormous number of

merchant vessels. Many steeples, houses, and buildings of all kinds were
overthrown, and the damage, in London alone, was estimated at a million
pounds.

There were few who went to bed that night. Many thought that the whole

city would be destroyed. Towards morning, however, the fury of the gale
somewhat abated, and by nightfall the danger had passed.

The next morning the two friends started, and posted down to Lancashire.
The journey was a long one. In many places the road was completely

blocked by fallen trees, and sometimes by the ruins of houses and barns. In
the former case, long detours had often to be made through villainous
roads, where the wheels sank almost to their axles, and, in spite of the most

liberal bribes to post boys and post masters, the journey occupied four days
longer than the usual time.

At last, they reached the lodge gate of Lynnwood. A man came out from
the cottage. He was the same who had been there in Sir Marmaduke's time.

Charlie jumped out of the post chaise.

"Why, Norman, don't you know me?"