BITD I would have set out a tarp or two to collect those bomb Cyclones and be set for decades!  And here in Oregon, those "sneaker" waves are Nike waves.

Had to Duck Duck mb to inches of mercury.  (My barometer, inherited from my sailing/scientist dad reads in both but I grew up thinking mercury.)  That 942.6mb - 27.84"!!  I don't know if I ever heard of below 28".  The story I did hear many times was of the man who purchased a barometer, took it home, looked at it, then returned it, complaining to the store owner that it wasn't reading right; ~28"!  Store owner said something to the effect that all his read the same.  The 1938 hurricane hit hours later.

Three more 1938 stories:  My granddad was cruising in Maine that summer.  Saw the super low barometer and move anchorage to the most sheltered spot in a small harbor and set both anchors securely.  His was one of the few boats that made it.  It was also passed on that all the varnish on the mast was stripped off.  That might have been hyperbole.

Not hyperbole: as a kid we used to go to Bristol RI every summer.  I could never jibe the old waterfront photos of the famous Herreshoff boat yard (that built many America's Cup boats when they were huge) and what my eyes told me when I went into town.  That hurricane completely destroyed the waterfront so the reconstruction was done from scratch to a new look and function.

And hiking at 13 years old in the White Mountains of NH.  We hiked through a forest of downed pines at altitude.  That hurricane again, now a couple hundred miles inland!  High enough that regrowth was going to take far longer than 3 decades.

And far more recent; the "little" storms we saw crossing the north Atlantic in 1987 - 60 mph winds and 15 foot seas with biggies of 25'.  In a 34' sailboat - quite real.  The front of the first storm was water chaos.  Like being a toy boat in a washing machine.  Trying to steer to manage the waves was pointless.  What you saw coming and what hit the boat had nothing in common.  We went through the eye of that first storm.  Weird.  Low storm clouds in a circle around us. Nearly the previous wave height but no breakers.  18 mph steady wind - perfect for full sail but we just unrolled what we had because we knew it wasn't long before we would be right back in the storm.  Second storm was much stronger but we were far from the center and behind it so we saw huge but organized waves, the same wind strength and both behind us pushing us to Ireland at 5 knots with no sail up.  Easy steering and almost fun.  Spent 40 minutes or so with a ~35' black whale parked beside us, obviously curious.  Never raised his head so we never saw the classic square forehead but it might have been a young sperm whale, a creature I've always wanted to see.  My brother, steering, and I both were fully aware that massive animal could do us in easily if it so chose.  Both storms - I've never been so wet.  The only dry on the boat was the contents of sealed containers.  (We all had bags of dry clothes for Ireland.)  Every time the companionway hatch was opened, a few more gallons came aboard.  Every surface was wet.  (I kept my sailing gloves in the open winch boxes in the cockpit because realizing you forgot them at the 4am watch was something you did only once!  And they did not get drier bringing them below!)

Now those little storms weren't global warming stuff, just what sailors had been facing crossing the north Atlantic over the past 500 years.  Exactly what that year's pilot charts predicted and we prepared for.  (Funny, when the boat docked in St Johns, Newfoundland, the locals all scanned it and us.  Were we prepared for that?  If yes, they were so helpful.  If no, they wanted nothing to do with those unprepared.  Every summer, wishful dreamers left there to their deaths and had been doing that forever.  We never needed a taxi.  Locals drove us everywhere.)

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