The time of Armistice had been concluded but the volunteers heedless of the consequences opened fire upon the arsenal still in the hands of the Dutch situated in the Rue des Convout some partial firing more of a tantalising than an effective nature was also directed against the ships.
The Dutch then opposed force to force and their fire was opened from the Citadel and fleet upon the town with violence towards 4 o’clock in the afternoon of the 27th October. My father, in a letter to Lord George Stewart dated Feb 1831, thus describes what he suffered on the night of the bombardment…
“I have been very much occupied in the affairs of this unfortunate country in support as far as lays in my power of thousands of poor wretches who have brought distress upon themselves but whose mouths must be fed for the security of our property. I am placed at the head of a committee to procure about £10,000 for that purpose and thank God that I succeeded. Not that I feel in any way inclined to recompense the base and vile acts of this deluded and ungrateful nation, for you may well imagine how I, and all my house, felt disgusted ever since the commencement of this deplorable revolution. It broke out whilst I was at Jersey and Guernsey. I hastened home and did what every honest man ought to do in support of loyalty and good order and which I have ever continued in as my situation in life entitled me. Hard times have we indeed passed since the so-called patriots came to this city. Mrs Ellerman has shown firmness of character never surpassed. We passed a horrid night during the bombardment; she and all my children were in the cellar. Her brother Lionel, Charles and myself watched the progress of the flames. A 24 pounder passed into our house at the very spot where I kept almost constantly a look out. That and the alarm was all, thank God, we suffered; for although £2,000 worth of property was lost by me at the entrepôt it was not my own but belonged to my correspondents. I remember the fatal day well. I had wandered through the streets during the day, not without danger to myself, and it was while we were seated at dinner that the bombardment actually commenced and opened the sad tale of horrors which were to follow. The terrific noise went on increasing whilst we and as many trustworthy hands we could muster were busy removing valuables from the upper and ground floor to the bomb proof cellars where we passed the night. Dear little Emily was then a baby in arms and remained in perfect good humour whilst we listened with horror and alarm to the booming of guns and the bursting of shells. The town was burning in various directions and the light thrown from the entrepôt in flames was truly awful. We had buckets filled with water ready in the inner court to be applied to fire in case of need. My father and my uncle, Major Lionel Hughes, had repeatedly visited the (attic?) of the house and looked from the windows. Below these windows a ball struck the stone front wall of the house, which it penetrated and rolled exhausted along the flooring. My father and uncle had visited the spot only a few minutes before and had thus a miraculous escape. The ball which had previously passed through the Museum opposite has now been fixed in the wall itself as a remembrance of that fatal night.  ¶ 11:08 pm