From Powder Monkey to Admiral, a Story of Naval Adventure, by W.H.G.
Kingston.
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This book was written for "Boy's Own Paper" shortly after that magazine
started. The plan was to write a book illustrating how it might be
possible for any very ordinary little boy joining the Navy in the lowest
rating--powder monkey--and ascend to the very highest rank--admiral. It
had been done before, in the separate cases of Benbow and Hopson, and
there was no reason why it shouldn't happen again. A powder monkey was
so called because his job in manning the guns was to run from time to
time to fetch more powder whenever it was needed. Since the boys were
small they afforded little target for the enemy's shot, so they tended
to survive an engagement. Just as well, for their job was
indispensable.
In this book three boys join up in the same batch. They have the usual
Kingston-style adventures, but only one of them makes it to the quarter
deck to become a midshipman. This was probably the hardest step for any
of them, but it was his bravery, honesty and good manners that won for
him the necessary attention. At the end of the book there is a pathetic
scene where we meet again the boy who did least well. This is a good
and enjoyable read or listen, taking about twelve and three quarter
hours.
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FROM POWDER MONKEY TO ADMIRAL; A STORY OF NAVAL ADVENTURE, BY W.H.G.
KINGSTON.
Introduction.
A book for boys by W.H.G. Kingston needs no introduction. Yet a few
things may be said about the origin and the purpose of this story.
When the _Boys' Own Paper_ was first started, Mr Kingston, who showed
deep interest in the project, undertook to write a story of the sea,
during the wars, under the title of "From Powder-monkey to Admiral."
Talking the matter over, it was objected that such a story might offend
peaceable folk, because it must deal too much with blood and gunpowder.
Mr Kingston, although famed as a narrator of sea-fights, was a lover of
peace, and he said that his story would not encourage the war spirit.
Those who cared chiefly to read about battles might turn to the pages of
"British Naval History." He chose the period of the great war for his
story, because it was a time of stirring events and adventures. The
main part of the narrative belongs to the early years of life, in which
boys would feel most interest and sympathy. And throughout the tale,
not "glory" but "duty" is the object set before the youthful reader.
It was further objected that the title of the story set before boys an
impossible object of ambition. The French have a saying, that "every
soldier carries in his knapsack a marshal's baton," meaning that the way
is open for rising to the very highest rank in their army. But who ever
heard of a sailor lad rising to be an Admiral in the British Navy?
Let us see how history answers this question. There was a great sea
captain of other days, whose fame is not eclipsed by the glorious
reputations of later wars, Admiral Benbow. In the reign of Queen Anne,
before the great Duke of Marlborough had begun his victorious career,
Benbow had broken the power of France on the sea. Rank and routine were
powerful in those days, as now; but when a time of peril comes, the best
man is wanted, and Benbow was promoted out of turn, by royal command, to
the rank of Vice-Admiral, and went after the fleet of Admiral Ducasse to
the West Indies. In the little church of Saint Andrew's, Kingston,
Jamaica, his body lies, and the memorial stone speaks of him as "a true
pattern of English courage, who lost his life in defence of queen and
country."
Like his illustrious French contemporary Jean Bart, John Benbow was of
humble origin. He entered the merchant service when a boy. He was
unknown till he had reached the age of thirty, when he had risen to the
command of a merchant vessel. Attacked by a powerful Salee rover, he
gallantly repulsed these Moorish pirates, and took his ship safe into
Cadiz. The heads of thirteen of the pirates he preserved, and delivered
them to the magistrates of the town, in presence of the custom-house
officers. The tidings of this strange incident reached Madrid, and the
King of Spain, Charles the Second, sent for the English captain,
received him with great honour, and wrote a letter on his behalf to our
King James the Second, who on his return to England gave him a ship.
This was his introduction to the British Navy, in which he served with
distinction in the reigns of William the Third and Queen Anne. But his
obscure origin is the point here under notice, and the following
traditional anecdote is preserved in Shropshire:--When a boy he was left
in charge of the house by his mother, who went out marketing. The
desire to go to sea, long cherished, was irresistible. He stole forth,
locking the cottage door after him, and hung the key on a hook in a tree
in the garden. Many years passed before he returned to the old place.
Though now out of his reach, for the tree had grown faster than he, the
key still hung on the hook. He left it there; and there it remained
when he came back as Rear-Admiral of the _White_. He then pointed it
out to his friends, and told the story. Once more his country required
his services, but his fame and the echo of his victories alone came over
the wave. The good town of Shrewsbury is proud to claim him as a son,
and remembers the key, hung by the banks of the Severn, near Benbow
House. Whatever basis of truth the story may have, its being told and
believed attests the fact of the humble birth and origin of Admiral
Benbow.
Another sailor boy, Hopson, in the early part of last century, rose to
be Admiral in the British Navy. Born at Bonchurch in the Isle of Wight,
of humblest parentage, he was left an orphan, and apprenticed by the
parish to a tailor. While sitting one day alone on the shop-board, he
was struck by the sight of the squadron coming round Dunnose. Instantly
quitting his work, he ran to the shore, jumped into a boat, and rowed
for the Admiral's ship. Taken on board, he entered as a volunteer.
Next morning the English fleet fell in with a French squadron, and a
warm action ensued. Young Hopson obeyed every order with the utmost
alacrity; but after two or three hours' fighting he became impatient,
and asked what they were fighting for. The sailors explained to him
that they must fire away, and the fight go on, till the white rag at the
enemy's mast-head was struck. Getting this information, his resolution
was formed, and he exclaimed, "Oh, if that's all, I'll see what I can
do."
The two ships, with the flags of the commanders on each side, were now
engaged at close quarters, yard-arm and yard-arm, and completely
enveloped in smoke. This proved favourable to the purpose of the brave
youth, who mounted the shrouds through the smoke unobserved, gained the
French Admiral's main-yard, ascended with agility to the main-topgallant
mast-head, and carried off the French flag. It was soon seen that the
enemy's colours had disappeared, and the British sailors, thinking they
had been hauled down, raised a shout of "Victory, victory!" The French
were thrown into confusion by this, and first slackened fire, and then
ran from their guns. At this juncture the ship was boarded by the
English and taken. Hopson had by this time descended the shrouds with
the French flag wrapped round his arm, which he triumphantly displayed.
The sailors received the prize with astonishment and cheers of approval.
The Admiral being told of the exploit, sent for Hopson and thus
addressed him, "My lad, I believe you to be a brave youth. From this
day I order you to walk the quarter-deck, and if your future conduct is
equally meritorious, you shall have my patronage and protection."
Hopson made every effort to maintain the good opinion of his patron, and
by his conduct and attention to duty gained the respect of the officers
of the ship. He afterwards went rapidly through the different ranks of
the service, till at length he attained that of Admiral.
We might give not a few instances of more recent date, but the families
and friends of those "who have risen" do not always feel the same honest
pride as the great men themselves in the story of their life. While it
is true that no sailor boy may now hope to become "Admiral of the
Fleet," yet there is room for advancement, in peace as in war, to what
is better than mere rank or title or wealth,--a position of honour and
usefulness. Good character and good conduct, pluck and patience,
steadiness and application, will win their way, whether on sea or land,
and in every calling.
The inventions of modern science and art are producing a great change in
all that pertains to life at sea. The revolution is more apparent in
war than in peace. There is, and always will be, a large proportion of
merchant ships under sail, even in nations like our own where steam is
in most general use. In war, a wooden ship without steam and without
armour would be a mere floating coffin. The fighting _Temeraire_, and
the saucy _Arethusa_, and Nelson's _Victory_ itself, would be nothing
but targets for deadly fire from active and irresistible foes. The odds
would be about the same as the odds of javelins and crossbows against
modern fire-arms. Steam alone had made a revolution in naval warfare;
but when we add to this the armour-plating of vessels, and the terrible
artillery of modern times, "the wooden walls of old England" are only
fit to be used as store-ships or hospitals for a few years, and then
sent to the ship-yards to be broken up for firewood. But though
material conditions have changed, the moral forces are the same as ever,
and courage, daring, skill, and endurance are the same in ships of oak
or of iron:--
"Yes, the days of our wooden walls are ended,
And the days of our iron ones begun;
But who cares by what our land's defended,
While the hearts that fought and fight are one?
'Twas not the oak that fought each battle,
'Twas not the wood that victory won;
'Twas the hands that made our broadsides rattle,
'Twas the hearts of oak that served each gun."
These are words from one of the "Songs for Sailors," by W.C. Bennett,
who has written better naval poems for popular use than any one since
the days of Dibdin. The same idea concludes a rattling ballad on old
Admiral Benbow:--
"Well, our walls of oak have become just a joke
And in tea-kettles we're to fight;
It seems a queer dream, all this iron and steam,
But I daresay, my lads, it's right.
But whether we float in ship or in boat,
In iron or oak, we know
For old England's right we've hearts that will fight,
As of old did the brave Benbow."
But, after all, even in war, fighting is only a small part of the sum of
any sailor's life, and the British flag floats over ships on every sea,
whether under sail or steam, in the peaceful pursuits of commerce. The
same qualities of heart and mind will have their play, which Mr
Kingston has described in his stirring story,--a story which will be
read with profit by the young, and with pleasure by both young and old.