Harper's Round Table, January 26, 1897

BOYS AT SEA.

BY W. CLARK RUSSELL.

Everybody will remember the exciting story of the ship Aberfoyle: how her Captain drank himself into delirium-tremens and then poisoned himself, how the crew mutinied, how the mate was washed overboard, and how this ship was eventually safely navigated to Melbourne by her second officer, who was little more than a boy. But perhaps the most memorable example of a boy's heroism is that of young Shotten. He was an apprentice on board a vessel called Trafalgar, which left Batavia fever-stricken, with the result that the superior officers perished, and young Shotten was left alone with the remains of a wicked ship's company to navigate the vessel. He carried her to Sydney in safety. His story is a true romance of the deep. This fine young fellow had not only to fight the ocean and its tremendous perils, he had also to handle a set of desperate, reckless men who refused to recognize his authority, and, charged with the dreadful spirit of mutiny and murder, scarcely suffered the boy commander to save their lives. Stories of this sort need the pen of a Defoe; they should be submitted to the world by the hand of genius, that, being in all senses things of beauty, they might be immortal as inspirations in such hours of conflict as young Shotten passed through. It is to be regretted that writers for boys do not uniformly invent with some perception of the good taste, sound judgment, and high aspirations and feelings of the young public they address. The typical boy hero of the boy's book is, for the most part, impossible; the lad as he reads grows disdainful, he may even detect blunders in seamanship or in the employment of nautical words, and his confidence is gravely shaken. No impression is left, no animating and lofty influence exerted, because the tale is trash; it is not true; the boy knows it never could have been true. I was once a boy myself, though I find this hard to believe, and I remember that the sea-stories which influenced me and which did me most good were tales founded on the facts of the ocean, plain and sincere narratives of the stern realities of the deep, such as this of Shotten. A young apprentice in Shotten's situation might, after reading his story, take courage from it, find an example in it, and achieve an end not less heroic than the model he imitated.

Can it be imagined that any one of M. Jules Verne's boy heroes could animate a lad by his impossible, albeit ingenious adventures, into the rendering of such splendid services as the whole English-speaking world was praising in young Shotten in 1895? It is a truth that boys at sea have done daring and glorious things, and their stories should be told by able hands for boys to read, because there is no calling that makes, in times of disaster, such demands upon the stout heart and all that is manly in the human qualities as the ocean life. One of the pluckiest boys that ever rose to rank in the British royal navy, and to the achievement of a great reputation for prudence, foresight, and gallantry scarcely inferior to Nelson's, was Admiral Hopson, who was born in the Isle of Wight, left an orphan when a child, and apprenticed by the parish to a tailor. The tailor's board, however, soon grew hateful to the little fellow; he yearned for quite another sort of board--I mean shipboard. And being one day alone in the shop, looking across the sea, he spied a squadron of men-of-war floating slowly around Dunnose.

Acting upon the impulse of the instant, he rushed from the shop, sprang into a boat, cast her painter loose, and contrived, by sculling with all his might, to reach the Admiral's ship. He was received and entered as a volunteer. Early next morning the British squadron fell in with a number of Frenchmen, and a hot action began. Little Hopson obeyed orders with wonderful alacrity and fearlessness; but when the fight had proceeded for two hours he grew impatient, and, turning to a seaman, asked why the ships were firing at one another. Jack answered that the action must continue till the white rag at the enemy's mast-head was struck. The ships were then engaged yard-arm to yard-arm. The air was thick with smoke of gunpowder. Hopson sprang into the shrouds, ran out to the main-yard-arm, gained the French Admiral's yard-arm, and running aloft, cut away the French flag, and brought it safely on board his own ship. The effect was amazing. The British yelled "Victory!" believing the French had struck; and the Frenchmen fled below, not doubting, now that their Admiral's flag had disappeared, that the battle was lost. For this surprising act of heroism young Hopson was promoted to the quarter-deck.

Every one must regret that more is not known of these gallant worthies of past times. Why is not the story of their services written for boys? Who amongst living authors who produce literature for the rising generation could invent a more thrilling, romantic, and exciting tale than this which I have only glanced at? Here is another example of the courage of a boy and what the spirit of a lad may achieve in an hour of grievous peril at sea: A famous frigate, La Tribune, was lost on the Halifax coast one November towards the close of the last century. Four men escaped in the jolly-boat, eight others clung to the main and fore tops; the remainder of the large ship's company perished. The inhabitants approached so close to the wreck as to be able to shout to and hear the shouts of the poor fellows upon the masts.

One of the first to attempt to succor them was a boy thirteen years old belonging to Herring Cove; he jumped in a little skiff at about eleven o'clock in the day, and with extraordinary labor and skill so manoeuvred his tiny ark as to back her under the frigate's foretop, and two of the shipwrecked men dropped into her. The boat was too small to carry more. The boy conveyed them in safety ashore, and the record of this inimitable piece of youthful heroism affirms that he "had them instantly conveyed to a comfortable habitation." The 'longshore men, spiritless and afraid, in spite of this glorious example, held back, and six men remained to be saved. The undaunted boy at once put off again; but the sea and the boat combined opposed too heavy a task to his strength exhausted by his previous labors, and he failed to reach the wreck. But his example was at last an animation; some boats were launched, and after much trouble and in the face of grave peril, they brought off in triumph the remaining survivors.

It is a story that should be written in letters of gold. But what will you think of the enthusiasm of the chroniclers of that lad's deed when I tell you that I am unable to give his name? I have searched for it--to no purpose. All we know is he was a Boy. But he was among the very noblest, and with something of emotion after all these long years I salute the darling little chap's memory.

At the battle of Copenhagen a lad so distinguished himself as to excite the admiration of the great Nelson. He was a Danish boy, about sixteen years of age, by some called Welmoes, but others have given him a different name. Be that as it may, this young fellow was in command of a praam, a sort of raft armed with small cannon and manned by a company of some twenty-four men. Nelson's flag was flying aboard the Elephant; the heroic young Dane resolved to attack the famous Admiral, whose name was a terror, and he forthwith shoved off in his raft from the shore, and gained the stern of the line-of-battle ship, then thundering in broadsides. The marines of the flag-ship promptly discharged their muskets at the gallant little band, and the praam was rapidly converted into a shambles. Twenty fine fellows lay dead and dying, but their boy commander, who stood up to his waist amongst the bodies, stuck to his post until the truce was proclaimed. Nelson had observed the splendid behavior of this lad. He held him in memory, and when he was banqueted at the palace, he begged the Prince to introduce young Welmoes to him. When the boy was presented, the most famous of all sea chieftains put his arm round his neck and kissed him, and, addressing the Prince, exclaimed that the young fellow deserved to be made an Admiral.

"If, my lord," was the answer, "I were to make all my brave officers admirals, I should have no captains or lieutenants in my service."

Twice were the wonderful battles in which Lord Nelson fought associated with the heroism of boys. One of the French ships at the battle of the Nile was L'Orient. She took fire, and hundreds of her people sprang overboard. Amongst those who perished in her was Commander Casabianca. All will remember Mrs. Hemans's moving verses beginning,

The boy stood on the burning deck, Whence all but him had fled.

This boy was the Commodore's son; he was but ten years of age, yet behaved with amazing intrepidity whilst the battle raged. When the ship took fire his father bade him remain on deck, and he stuck to his post until the huge ship blew up. Memories of this sort should stir the blood of the young. They cannot be too often recited. They quicken the higher impulse, shape fancies into ardent resolution, and all will believe that they must be infinitely more valuable, even in an educational sense, than narratives of impossible adventure and of fictitious achievements which cannot serve as encouragements, because even the smallest boy will perceive that they are impracticable.

I have spoken of Lord Nelson, and of this great sailor many stories of his spirit when a boy are told. Some of these tales must be viewed with suspicion; one or two, perhaps, are worth recalling. The lad joined an expedition to the frozen sea under the command of Captain Phipps, afterwards Lord Musgrave. One night, when it was as bright as daylight, the ship lying hard and fast amid the ice, young Nelson took his gun and left the ship to shoot a bear which he had seen a long way off. Something went wrong with the lock of his musket, whereupon he grasped the weapon by the barrel, and gave chase to the beast, which went off on a trot. Having killed the bear, the boy returned to his ship, the Captain of which reprimanded him for going upon the ice without leave, and with a stern countenance asked what motive could have induced him to attack with a useless gun so formidable a beast as a polar-bear. The young hero's reply was to the point. "I wished, sir," he said, "to get the skin for my father."

All boys who are acquainted with the life of Lord Nelson--and every boy, be he American or English, who speaks the language in which this article is written, ought to read it and gather the meaning of that wonderful career--must have heard of Captain Trowbridge, one of the Admiral's favorite officers. He was the son of a baker, and rose by his splendid gallantry to be an Admiral and a baronet. One story of his fearlessness when a lad recalls Hopson's feat. He was midshipman aboard the Seahorse when she chased and captured the French ship Sartine. Much of the glory of that day was owing to young Trowbridge, who, watching his chance and shouting for followers, boarded the enemy from the forecastle, and with his own hands hauled down the French colors. Perhaps not every commander of a victorious ship would have proved so frankly honorable as was Captain Farmer of the Seahorse, for afterwards, whilst dining with the commander-in-chief, Sir Edward Hughes, he checked the congratulations he was being overwhelmed with by saying that the victory was entirely owing to the heroism of a boy, a midshipman named Trowbridge. Sir Edward was so struck and delighted that he became the boy's fast friend, and was of signal help to him in the earlier stages of his splendid career. These and the like are stories which are true, and they should be made known to boys. My instances are British; but scores of inspiriting examples may be culled from the American records.