[Illustration: HENRY COXWELL.
(_From a Photograph by Messrs. Negretti & Zambra._)]
MY LIFE
AND
BALLOON EXPERIENCES,
WITH
A SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER
ON
MILITARY BALLOONING.
BY
HENRY COXWELL.
London:
W. H. ALLEN & CO. 13 WATERLOO PLACE, S. W.
1887.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
Boyhood and Youth 1
First view of a Balloon 8
Juvenile Conflicts 11
Launch at Chatham Dockyard 23
School-boy Observations of Green’s Balloon 32
Settling in Life 38
The Vauxhall Balloon 41
Departure for Amsterdam 43
First Ascent 48
Lieutenant Gale’s Balloon 55
Nocturnal Ascent 59
Ascents from Chelmsford 66
Engagements in Belgium 69
The Field of Waterloo 88
Ascent at Cologne 108
Exhibition at Berlin 116
Narrow Escape in Hanover 131
Ascent at Leipsig 147
1852 148
1853 155
The beginning of Military Ballooning 167
Military Ballooning during this Century 176
Air Torpedoes and Bombshells 185
Military Ballooning in the Year of Jubilee 189
Remarkable Ascents during this Century 202
Ascent, over five miles high, by Green and Rush 217
A Jump out of the Car in America 224
An Englishman’s Parachute Descent in 1839 225
Channel Ballooning 227
MY LIFE
AND
BALLOON EXPERIENCES.
Not far from Rochester Castle, at Wouldham, on the banks of the Medway,
I first saw the light of day, at the parsonage house, on March 2nd,
1819.
Should this allusion to my birthplace lead to the inference that I am
the son of a clergyman it will not be correct, although I am a grandson
of the Rev. Charles Coxwell, of Ablington House, Gloucestershire; but
my father was a naval officer who had seen a tolerable share of active
service, and who now sought repose in a secluded spot which presented
a striking contrast to the deck of a man-of-war, and to those bustling
scenes of warfare which he had so far participated in as to sustain
personal injury, and to require retirement for the sake of his health.
Before I was old enough to remember any of the first associations
of childhood in this rural abode at Wouldham, our family changed
residence, so that my earliest recollections date from the time shortly
after we had left the parsonage and had taken up our abode on board His
Majesty’s ship “Colossus,” my father having accepted command of the
vessels in ordinary at Chatham. Here we stayed for three years, and,
young as I was, I do not forget being ducked every morning from the
stage of the old seventy-four, nor the swinging round at tide-time of
the black old hulk, and of frequently being pulled ashore in a dinghy
to the marine stairs, where a landing was effected on a plank.
In taking a retrospective view of boyhood, the next circumstance which
impressed me was my being taken to a school at the marine barracks,
where one Sergeant W---- superintended an elementary school for the
sons of officers. Our usher, a corporal, was said to have had a
Cambridge education, but I suppose he went wrong in some weak point
before he enlisted; an under teacher was the master’s son, Jack W----
as he was familiarly styled, a precocious lad who betrayed a decided
proclivity for the young gentlemen’s tarts, so that at last Jack was
regarded as a person who could instruct in _meum_ and _tuum_, but
certainly did not set an example to the pupils in distinguishing
between them.
After I had been some time at this school, an event occurred which
excited the curiosity of all the boys, and which cannot well be
forgotten by those who broke through the rule of not leaving without
permission. One morning, Sergeant W---- and the second in command
appeared at their respective desks in full uniform rather earlier than
usual, and appointed W---- junior to be a monitor, as some important
duty, either on parade or in another remote part of the barracks, was
coming off. “Mind nobody leaves his seat until we return,” was the last
injunction as the sergeant marched out followed by the corporal, whose
general appearance was more intellectual than martial; his red-tailed
coat and black trowsers were conspicuously a misfit, and as he wore a
thin pair of spectacles, no doubt rendered indispensable by university
studies, the usher did somehow or other disturb the gravity assumed by
the obedient scholars. Jack in office, however, otherwise W---- junior,
was fully equal to a demonstrative attitude, and by a vigorous smack of
the cane on an old desk, that had never yet felt paint, struck terror
among us, so that for a few minutes order reigned supreme. Some wicked
wag, however, soon observed that, for his part, all he was afraid of
was that Jack would not remain in office up to the dinner-hour, by
which certain vile insinuations as to the appropriation of cakes,
&c., were conveyed to the nearest boys; this caused an insubordinate
titter, which again brought down the sturdy cane, this time with such
a threatening thump that its actual use on the hands was held to be
highly probable, especially as the talkative lad in the first class
again ventured a piece of undertoned information, albeit of a graver
kind.
“Don’t you know,” he said, “it is punishment morning, and the masters
have left to witness the flogging.”
Now before the lash was mitigated, or abolished, at any rate when I
was a youth, military floggings were of such frequent occurrence that
punishment morning was generally once-a-week; the elder pupils knew all
this, but some of the new boys listened with eager attention, if not
with fear, to the announcement.
“Hush,” cried one, who heard a tramp on the parade ground, a fact which
indicated that the Royal Marines were at that moment marching down to
the rear, where the halberts were invariably pitched, and where five
or six privates were not unfrequently strapped up in succession, each
to undergo from fifty to two hundred lashes, according to the articles
of war, as at that time interpreted. No sooner was it buzzed about
what was to take place than one of my own class--I will not name the
incorrigible--enquired if there was any chance of having a peep.
“No, it is not allowed,” said the big boy, “and anyone found looking
out of the barrack windows, commits a serious offence; but if,” he
continued, with a patronizing air, “you can get behind the green baize
near the door, you and I will slip out and see what is going on.” An
opportunity having presented itself, we deserted forthwith. I was
then led to a hole in a window-frame which had been plugged up, and
evidently used on former occasions.
The Chatham Division of Marines was now to be seen drawn up in square.
The red-painted triangle was ready for the first delinquent, and we
readily recognized the portly frame of the sergeant-major whose voice
disturbed the stillness of the ranks, by saying, “Number one, strip!” I
was struck with the apparent alacrity with which the man took off his
undress jacket, pulled off his shirt, and drew his belt tightly round
his waist; it was the work of a moment; there was no flinching, and he
walked over to the halberts, where his hands and feet were strapped, in
a firm way, which was very sensational and attractive to us ensconced
youngsters. A drummer was immediately at hand in a white jacket,
and the cat hung in his right hand until the sergeant-major cried,
“one” when suddenly the drummer threw himself into position, and the
cat flourished high over his head and fell evenly between the white
shoulders, producing a foul red mark on the fair form which shrugged
perceptibly, but less so as the work proceeded, so that by the time the
first complement of twenty-five lashes had disfigured the poor man’s
flesh, he appeared to be cat-hardened, for no cry or groan escaped his
lips, he took his hundred-and-fifty, and when cast loose, his shirt and
a great coat being thrown over his back, he marched off under escort
to the infirmary, for another kind of dressing, with an amount of
unflinching courage worthy of a better cause.
Number two was a different kind of man altogether; he was stouter, and
his skin looked redder, there was no manifest fear in him; indeed,
he assumed a defiant swagger, and looked round as if for approbation
during the process of securing, nor did the first few strokes make him
writhe like his predecessor, but no sooner had number twelve sounded,
than a piercing groan was uttered, when the fifes and drums were called
into requisition to drown his shrieks; and then, it may as well be
confessed, we withdrew to the schoolroom, after witnessing that which
did upset us, and was calculated to sicken persons in more advanced
life.
The next incident mentally photographed on my mind is one which
took place at the village of Gillingham, situated about three miles
from Chatham. Our house had a commanding view of the river Medway
right away to Sheerness. After leaving the “Colossus,” we had taken
up our quarters in the neighbourhood where a great number of
officers resided. The guard-ship “Prince Regent” lay at her moorings
three-quarters of a mile distant, and my eldest brother, a mate, was on
board awaiting a lieutenancy. He frequently came on shore and visited
us at home; but he had gone away to some foreign station before the
winter of 1827 set in, or he would have accompanied my sisters to the
Rochester ball, probably, in the place of my father who generally
required a little persuasion on the part of the girls before mixing
with the red and blue coats when they were going in for dancing. The
forthcoming Rochester assembly was duly prepared for, of course it was
a carriage drive, and in those days the return journey was not always
considered safe, although highway robbers were getting less frequent;
still it was well to be provided with firearms.
A day or two before the said ball, I was myself an eyewitness of sundry
preparations in the domestic circle; first, there was the coming and
going of dressmakers, and such sort, and on my respected parent’s
side, there was an inspection of small arms, and well I remember it;
the taking down of a naval trophy, very like a horse-pistol, which
was cleaned, and afterwards charged with powder and ball, but the
ammunition was not needed, for the assembly took place, and the girls
were safely housed without any adventure.
On their return the pistol had been placed on the top of an old
escritoire, and on the following Sunday, during divine service in the
parish church--and I may add in our house as well, my mother being
an invalid, and a younger sister being therefore called upon to read
prayers--just at this serious moment I was wandering about the house,
no doubt in search of mischief, when I espied the pistol, and enquired
of Mary the housemaid who was busy bed-making, what that was on the
drawers. Mary had enough to do in minding her own business, so that I
was requested rather pettishly not to bother her. I insisted, despite
this protest in the bed-room, and examined the pistol, asking the
domestic to allow me to snap the flint and steel in the direction of
her foot. I could not keep in check a desire to embark in this little
experimental trigger pulling; of course I had not the slightest idea
that my pistol could by oversight or neglect have remained charged,
nor was I sufficiently practised in gunnery to see the propriety of
examining the pan, or thrusting down the ramrod to ascertain if all
was clear. My idea was to strike sparks from the flint, and I did so,
but “gracious goodness,” as Mary exclaimed when she flew back as if
killed--and no sooner had she shrieked than my own mother and sister
followed suit--not only had I discharged the contents close to the
girl’s foot, but the bullet had gone right through the floor, down
into the room close to my parent’s sofa where she was reclining. What
consternation ensued I cannot describe; had I shot anybody or wounded
myself? Master Henry was most frightened, I am sure, as the pistol fell
from my hand, and I stood pale and amazed, until reassured that no
one was hurt, and that I was not supposed to have had any deliberate
intention of shooting Mary or my dear mother. It was a close shave for
all there, and I required protection on the maternal side after my
father returned from church.
“The young rascal,” he said, “had no business prowling about on a
Sunday morning; it was only a few days previously,” he continued in
a great rage, “that gunpowder had exploded in his pocket.” This was
a fact. I had collected some half cartridges which the soldiers had
dropped at a review, and was about trying my hand at springing a mine,
when my father came in sight, and to avoid detection I thrust a lighted
slow match in my pocket, when some loose powder ignited; being now
called upon for an explanation as to handling the pistol, I pleaded
ignorance as to its being loaded, &c., &c., and as the fault lay really
on my father’s side, I was pardoned, and I believe kissed by Mary for
not having deprived her of existence.
Scarcely six months had elapsed after this first experience of
shooting, ere the village talk turned upon a promised balloon
ascent from the Rochester Gasworks, by Mr. C. Green; several of my
schoolfellows and neighbours were going over to witness the first event
of the kind in that part of Kent. My father had determined not to go
to Rochester, but to be satisfied with a distant view from Chatham
Lines, where I myself, and my brother and sisters, were to assemble on
the occasion. I had strict orders to carry with all possible care an
old spy glass, of about sixteen inches round by two feet and a half in
length. Such a telescope under a boy’s arm now would inevitably excite
ridicule as to its much vaunted day and night powers. I cannot speak
very positively at the present time, though I still possess the said
instrument, and occasionally hand it about as a curiosity, on account
of its having been my father’s and the one that was taken to the hill
overlooking the gas-works to enable me to obtain a good view of Mr.
Green’s balloon, in the year 1828.
It was my lot on that day, as youngest son, to stand erect with back
towards my father, with the spy glass on my right shoulder to admit of
his getting the first view of the balloon. “There it is sure enough,”
was the intimation which only served to make me unsteady and anxious to
see what manner of thing a balloon could be. “Steady young gentleman,”
said the captain, “your sisters and friends wish for a good view. Now
then, take your line straight over Master Henry’s shoulder, as if you
were aiming point blank at that black gas holder, you will see the
balloon half full.” After our party had taken their turns and had
commented on what they saw, I was myself raised to the highest pitch
of expectancy, and could not for the life of me get a proper focus
or catch sight of the object for some time. At length I sighted the
variegated dome, and indulged in a long and selfish gaze; so much so,
that other boys with natural longing gave signs of impatience by elbow
digs, and at length shook the glass and compelled me to look no longer.
After the inflation was completed, we could perceive the balloon being
let up by ropes, and my father volunteered the opinion that persons
were in the car, though I question whether the captain knew much of
such affairs, or whether he had ever been nearer a balloon than he was
that day.
When the partial ascents were over, a number of old naval officers, who
appeared to be tired of waiting, gave it out as their belief that the
real ascent would not be long delayed. I remember the steady gaze of my
father, as he held up the old glass with a fixed look. He was silent
for some time; at length he exclaimed “look out boys,” a request we
attended to and were not kept waiting as in another ten seconds “she’s
off, she’s off,” resounded on all sides, and in less than a minute the
balloon had risen high into the atmosphere, and was gliding away over
Chatham Dockyard. Before the balloon reached the open sea an upper
current perceptibly wafted it inland; it seemed to go on bravely in
spite of danger, and many were the speculations as to where it would
fall. After being up for more than half-an-hour it was pronounced to be
over the Thames, and it could be seen through the clear air until it
was reduced to a mere speck. We heard next day that it alighted safely
in Essex.
It would, no doubt, be instructive to ascertain how far an imposing
spectacle influences the various members of a juvenile community. A
balloon ascent seen by children, generally, cannot produce a desire
for soaring, or aëronauts would be as plentiful as blackberries. In my
case, young as I was, Mr. Green’s ascent, created an interest which
never left me. It was not long before I invested my weekly allowance
of pocket money in sundry sheets of tissue paper, beginning on the
housetops with tiny parachutes, and progressing towards a rudely
constructed paper Montgolfier, which would not rise, and which did
burn, so that my first efforts, like those of most boys in aërostatics,
were unsuccessful; but, being taken with the amusement, I stuck to it,
not persistently, but with frequent flashes of enthusiasm, which are
evidence of a strong taste in that direction.
But there were other exciting pastimes in our seaport town which soon
proved as attractive as those miniature balloon experiments. I must
advert to a few of them, after stating that it had been deemed a fit
and proper time to remove me from my first school and to place me in
one of a higher class, kept by the Brothers B----, in Gibraltar Place,
Chatham. The boarders and day-scholars of this establishment were of
a mixed character, that is to say we had the military element, the
naval boys, and a fair contingent of commercial lads--some from London,
others from Canterbury, Dover, Hythe, and various parts of the country.
Our masters had first-rate pretentions to classical and mathematical
proficiency, and although excellent specimens of good teaching were
to be found among our ranks, yet there was one propensity which was
very strong among us, and that was pugnaciousness. I regret, even at
the present time, to avow that we were known under the sobriquet of
“B----’s bulldogs.” Not only individually but collectively did we earn
and deserve this title; whether it was because there were two or three
other schools in our immediate vicinity whose playgrounds bordered upon
our own, and which led to competitive trials of strength, or whether it
was owing to a martial spirit bred in the very bones of the officers’
boys, I really cannot now take upon myself to decide, but that we were
continually in hot water there remains no manner of doubt; and when I
think of the efforts, the gigantic efforts--if large canes, veritable
cats, and formidable birches are to be accounted as such--that were
made to cure us, I am surprised that more of the fire was not taken out
of us.
Perhaps in that day and generation we were not properly handled and
tamed; something was wrong, that is certain, or we should never have
been known as “B----’s bulldogs.” It is just possible that some of
the more grave and studious of my schoolfellows would object to this
undignified portraiture I am giving of a few of our weak points, I beg
to qualify my description by adding that it does not follow that one
and all were by nature and habits addicted to fighting, but a large
proportion were that way inclined, and I may truthfully add, that
a certain number were known to belong to a band of volunteers--not
such as emulate the regulars in the present day, but to a regiment of
young aspirants shouldering wooden guns and going forth to battle,
the exciting causes being some imaginary affront or some kind of
puerile knight-errantry, which would now be suppressed as unbecoming
and scandalous. No doubt certain allowances should be made for the
degenerate days of a youth before the Reform Bill had passed; and as
one or two of my companions are now staid, distinguished men, long
passed the meridian of life, they will not blush at my disclosures,
for the history of my boyhood is not designed to include by name any
associate. All I aim at is to describe the early scenes of my life,
which cannot well be omitted from this narrative, as they really
occurred.
As a specimen of the way in which we sometimes spent our half-holidays,
that is at the tender age of ten, I will give the following anecdote,
though I had better have passed it over perhaps. On one occasion I had
orders to join the small army to which I belonged, as there was some
chance of active service being engaged in on those wide-spread Chatham
Lines, where the members of our little force might, it was thought
possible, on a certain Wednesday afternoon, be provoked into mimic
warfare. We had recently, when exercising, suffered insult from the
wild half-ragged boys of Brompton, who were mostly soldiers’ sons, and
had a grudge against us on account of our superior personal appearance,
no less than for affecting to be armed and equipped as if we were men,
and equal to doing battle as such if need be. Well, the said boys
guessing that we should be out for drill not far from the trenches had
there assembled.
We fell in regardless of these tormentors, and Colonel H----, that is
our superior officer, who was the son of a live infantry Hibernian
colonel, had given orders to “ground arms,” when with some truth, but
much sarcasm, one of the urchins cried out “ground broomsticks”--of
course in open defiance to us and our leader, who had Irish blood in
his veins.
It was only a few seconds ere our next instructions were to “shoulder
arms, and prepare for action.” So far from “broomsticks,” ours were
wooden guns, in fair imitation of muskets, and the officers had swords,
purchased from a pawnbroker, unless, as in my case, they had been
provided from home in the shape of naval or military weapons, which
had been worn by their fathers in the days of Nelson or Wellington.
Without much ado or parley, we were preparing for close quarters, when
to our surprise, the enemy opened fire with stones, having provided
themselves with these formidable missiles with which they assailed us
at a disadvantage.
Colonel H----, though hit at the outset in the hand, motioned us to
deploy and fall back temporarily towards the sally-port, with a view of
exhausting their resources, before a retaliatory step was taken on our
side.
This strategic movement was well timed, as the ragged ruffians
redoubled their onslaught, but as anticipated, were soon short of
ammunition.
Perceiving at a glance that they were pressing for the bridge, in
order to replenish their pockets with stones, the word “Charge” was
given, and away we darted at the double, H----, himself, drawing his
sword and cutting at the thin air a slashing swish, just to let them
see it was the genuine cold steel he was leading us with, but--bless
the boys!--away they went, helter-skelter, before our colonel had
authorised us to use the butt-ends of our guns if necessary.
They beat us, though, in activity, and kept up their chaff while
running away. H----, I remember overtook the ringleader, who had a head
like a mop, while his garments, such as they were, happened to be made
of patches of old uniforms, partially tattered and torn.
This fellow, with a jeer enough to provoke a saint, exclaimed “Shure
we’ll meet yer on Saturday afternoon, at Tom-all-alones, ye know the
locality, I believe.”
“Agreed,” replied our leader, who brought us to the halt with no great
reluctance, being himself a stout lad of about fifteen years of age.
“We are masters of the field at any rate,” he said.
Not one of our party failed to cheer at the unexpected retreat of our
opponents; we were ill-matched so far as numbers, and stone-throwing
powers were concerned, but as H---- explained, we should have a better
chance on next meeting, as the soil was of clay at Tom-all-alones,
which is situated below the Brompton barracks, where there were at that
time model earth-works, and the sites of recently sprung mines to take
possession of.
We agreed also upon the advisability of securing the services of the
naval brigade, which had among those enrolled, some schoolfellows,
including my brother, who was just fifteen months my senior, and
thoroughly in advance of me, and indeed of his years, as regards acts
of downright daring.
On the following half-holiday, the combined forces, composed of
day-scholars, proceeded in two divisions to the proposed scene of
action. As it happened, we were the first on the ground, and no time
was lost in taking possession of an earth-work, or rather clay-work,
not long thrown up by Colonel Paisley and his Engineer detachment.
Guessing what would be the tactics of the rebels, no time was lost in
preparing a pile of balls, as in all probability we should be attacked
with such, at the commencement of the expected onslaught.
Having added to our numbers since the last brush, we awaited with
confidence an attack, nor were we long in doubt as to the arrival of
the enemy, as their outposts were descried in the distance, and soon
a scattered and disorderly force appeared on the rising ground to our
left; on they rushed, without any apparent organisation, but this time
they had sticks in their hands, and some were seen to have something in
their pocket handkerchiefs which were slung on one arm.
The Brompton lads had evidently heard that we were at the place
appointed, but they halted on perceiving how favourably we had
established ourselves, and that we had manufactured a conical heap
of clay balls. It was not long before they followed suit, their
bull-headed leader, who gave the challenge, being conspicuous by his
clothes and size. While thus preparing for an attack they withdrew
to a heap of moist clay, where they could be seen pressing the earth
into round shot. Some one of ours proposed to sally out and disperse
them, but H---- thought we had better hold our own, as possession of an
earth-work was nine points in our favour.
They were quicker and greater adepts at their work than we had been,
and the chances were that they would lick us at out fighting, so that
H---- sent, or sanctioned, a sortie by way of diversion, when a party
of our naval fellows made a dash at them when least expected, but in
numbers our men, like the six hundred riding at the Russian batteries,
were quite unequal to the contest, and suffered terribly; my brother
and several others came in bleeding, but our foes were disturbed and
brought to close quarters, where they resolutely let fly as if they
expected to dislodge us in no time, but we were several feet above
them, and they would have to scale our ramparts before driving us out.
In less than five minutes the exchange became uncommonly smart and hot.
I was also disfigured, as the clay begrimed not only our jackets but
our faces and hands.
No great length of time elapsed before it became as plain as a
pike-staff that we were getting the worst of it, and no wonder. H----
discovered the reason, “those ruffians,” he cried, “popped in stones
beneath their clay, we must at them at once; are you ready?”
“Then hurrah, and away, show no quarter.”
Down we rushed, the foul play that had been detected animating us with
the pluck and dash of adult warriors.
“Let ’em have it,” cried H----, unmindful of a wound in the head which
caused the blood to flow copiously. I, too, was hit, as indeed were one
and all of us, but “onwards boys,” was the word, and just as we were on
the point of crossing sticks and guns, they fell back suddenly, but not
before a personal exchange of compliments came off between our colonel
and the burly leader on the enemy’s side. In fact H---- closed with
him, and laid hands on his throat which brought him to the ground.
This incident gave a turn to the fortune of war, and at the real
tug which decides so many battles we were again the victors, most
unmistakeably so this time, as it became a total rout, and the
ringleader was not released until he rendered up his stick and pledged
himself never again to oppose or make light of us while exercising.
It was not very long after this scrimmage that a painful circumstance
occurred, and as it concerned three of us who had fought in company,
and who were shortly after fated to have a difference among ourselves,
I may as well mention it at once. I do so with twinges of regret even
at this distant period of time, as I was led, almost unwittingly, into
a fresh squabble which disfigured, I am aware, my early doings.
It was in this wise. My brother who was in the last affair (not an
elder brother who was in the Royal Navy), had some high words with my
colonel, H----, who had led us twice into action as recounted. H----,
by design or inadvertence, had cast a slur on our father--not that I
heard it or was aware of it until John, my brother, came in one day and
said, “Henry, we are going to fight H----.”
“Indeed,” I cried with doubt and pain; “what for, he is my colonel, I
have had no quarrel with him?”
“Well, it is all settled; he has insulted papa. Here’s Johnson, he will
tell you all about it, and when it is to come off. Owing to H----’s
size and age he is going to take the pair of us.”
“You see Master Henry,” said Johnson, who was a marine bandsman, and
who assisted, when off duty, in our house, “the captain, your father,
has been grossly insulted.”
“Only you make that clear, Johnson, and I am ready,” was my reply.
“Well, you had better step up into my room, young gentlemen, at once,
as time is on the wing, and will brook no delay.”
The bandsman having disclosed the nature of the aspersion, and the
hour having been fixed for the encounter, I found myself with no way
of escape consistent with honour and respect for a parent; so that I
may as well make a clean breast of another blot on my life’s history by
avowing that, the same evening, in a back yard, on suitable premises,
rented by one McMollon, a linesman, Johnson had arranged for the
meeting to take place; and for the better understanding of the why
and wherefore, as also of the respective characters of Johnson and
McMollon, I must unavoidably state that these worthies were, to some
extent, rivals, as Johnson was in our employ and McMollon was not,
though he wished to be. The former, moreover, was a Royal Marine of the
Chatham Division, while the latter was of another cloth altogether: and
then again the bandsman was a Man of Kent, while the soldier hailed
from the other side of St. George’s Channel, so that their brogue and
tastes were quite opposed.
McMollon considered that H---- had not insulted Johnson’s “bhoys,” as
he accentuated his allusion to us, and the Englishman swore in strong
Saxon that H---- had, and that the affair should be fought out.
Preliminaries having been settled, an adjournment took place to
Johnson’s private quarters, which were located near our back garden, as
was McMollon’s house and yard, though they were fully a stone’s throw
apart from the bandsman’s rooms and from our place.
On entering Johnson’s room, he threw off his coat, and then drew with
a piece of chalk a line across the floor, and brought us up to the
scratch, as he roughly named the place of demarkation. He then threw
himself into a pugilistic attitude and thus addressed us:--
“You are going to face, young gentlemen, a strapping young fellow,
whose hit may prove like the kick of a horse. From what I know of
you both, I have no fear whatever of the issue, if you follow my
advice; but if he lands his left on Master Henry’s nose and his right
between Master John’s eyes, by taking you apart and dropping on to you
unawares, then I’ll not answer for the consequences. Now look here! I’m
your opponent; please to foot the chalk line, and square up like men.
Capital--anyhow as a sample. Now, please not to forget that in round
one Master Henry must hit for the wind, and you, Master John, must play
for the face--left and right like a sledge-hammer. No. 2 then recovers
himself, and next pops in another compliment on the nob, as we call it
in the classics; and if you land your blows, as I expect you will, Col.
H---- will be taken all aback, and round one will soon be over.”
“But hold; look here Johnson,” I said, “supposing that when I aim at
the wind I catch one in the eye, how then?”
“Oh! that’s what we’re coming to. If you, after a spurt in sparring,
throw your guard well over your face, and butt in smartly at the same
time, you score a shot between wind and water, and then the figure-head
is open for master John. Come now, just go through it.”
But without further shocking or harassing the refined minds of my
readers, suffice it to say that we were put through these tactics
ultimately to the satisfaction of our accomplished instructor, and by
the time we faced H---- in McMollon’s yard, we came up with an air of
confidence which seemed to gladden the bandman’s heart.
H----, on being supported by McMollon, merely buttoned his blue jacket,
but we, in obedience to Johnson’s request, took off ours and then
tucked up our sleeves. We cut a poor figure, however, in a physical
aspect, as opposed to our big antagonist, who smiled as if he could
knock us to pieces, if he were so disposed.
“Faith, be jintle with them, Misther H----” said McMollon, when
Johnson--unmindful of swagger--put us forward with calm assurance,
and we lost no time in obeying his orders; perceiving that we stood
well as to position, he cried out “Now lads,” when in I went, to the
astonishment of H---- and his second, while my brother hit out well
from the shoulder, as told to do at rehearsal.
“Follow up, Master Henry,” cried Johnson, “ding dong, go it, the pair
of you.”
But, at this interesting moment, a manly figure came forward and,
pushing our backer aside, he dealt us both two sharp cuts on the back
with his walking-stick. It was my father!
“Disgraceful!” he exclaimed.
“How is this, Johnson, a pugilistic encounter?”
“The truth is, it is all about yourself, Captain.”
“Eh, what do you say, about me?”
“Well, the fact is, Master H----, yonder, insulted your good name, and
the young gentlemen took it up.”
“Oh! that’s it; well, I shall return in ten minutes, and if all this is
not over I shall be very angry.”
Pater then, to the bandsman’s delight, went away; an act which was
interpreted to mean, “go in and win,” which we did in a very short
period of time, to the dismay of McMollon, who now rounded on Johnson,
but the royal marine, of the Chatham division, was nothing daunted,
though a much smaller man; his coat was off, and he was well to the
front in no time.
“Shure the captain’s coming; don’t get yourself into trouble, now,”
cried McMollon, and with this excuse he declined to be mixed up in
the fray; and it is due to H---- to admit that, after the contest, he
explained that his insinuations were entirely misunderstood, and that
the Coxwells were far too touchy. This remark had in it some semblance
of truth, perhaps, but the explanation being accepted, we shook hands,
and were as good, if not better friends than ever.
As a description of my boyish pranks will lead to an inference that
the game of soldiers was to me a labour of love, still it must not be
supposed that I was indifferent to nautical pursuits and ship-building.
There was a fine field at Chatham for youths who aspired to serve their
country, and who had a liking for naval architecture. Much of my spare
time was spent in the machinery and dockyard departments. The parents
of some of my schoolfellows resided in the great naval depot, and
there were about half-a-dozen of us who inherited a strong bent for
everything appertaining to the wooden walls of Old England.
We had heard our fathers’ stories of sea fights, and cutting out
expeditions, of the days of two broad-sides and board, of chasing
foreign frigates, and of attacking the combined fleets of France
and Spain, until a lively interest in such undertakings was pretty
generally felt among us. Ready access being afforded to see the dry
and wet docks, slips, and gun wharf, we were fairly posted up in all
that was going forward to maintain, at that time, our supremacy on the
seas.
Although the dimensions of Chatham Dockyard have vastly extended since
the year 1831, still they were of no small magnitude then. There was
generally a first-rate on Number One slip, and a couple of ninety
gun ships close at hand, while lower down the yard an eighty-four
and several frigates, corvettes, and brigs of war were to be seen
in different stages of advancement. The dry docks too--especially a
new stone one--were invariably occupied, and in the river there was
constantly a vessel in commission, so that we frequently put off to
visit the officers, and to watch the progress of fitting out.
We had been observing for some time the completion of His Majesty’s
ship “Monarch,” and were eagerly looking out for her launch, not
because it would be a novelty to us--for we seldom omitted such
ceremonies--but we had agreed to be on board as she went off the
stocks. From some cause, better known to the Admiralty than to us, the
launch had been put off from time to time, until we grew impatient. At
last we noticed that the cradles were up, and that a coat of yellow
paint had been laid on, and finally we ascertained that when the next
spring tide served, this splendid eighty-four was destined to take the
water.
The day having been fixed, we either obtained or _took_ a whole
holiday--a half-holiday was no kind of use to us. We did not care to
arrive with the fashionable visitors who gathered about half-an-hour
before the christening. What we wanted was to be present during the
preliminary operations of removing the supports, and splitting out
the blocks from beneath the keel, and, in fact, of witnessing the
mechanical process of transferring the entire weight of a stupendous
ship on to the “ways” down which the “Monarch” was to slide.
From an early hour in the morning every available shipwright was at his
post accomplishing this task. It would never do to remove the spars
that propped up each section of the enormous hull until the day of the
launch; the strain would be too great on the timbers were this done
until the cradles are driven tight by wedging, which was just what we
took delight in. All hands were summoned for this office, when the
blows from a thousand hammers struck home and blended in one harmonious
sound.
The master shipwright and Bardoe the pilot were to be seen in company
during these preparations. An important personage was Bardoe; he was a
bluff, stalwart seaman, with a voice to be heard the other side of the
Medway, a Newcastle man by birth, and one to be obeyed, but gentle,
communicative, and a decided favourite with us boys.
“Now young gentlemen,” said the pilot, “you are here betimes, pray keep
out of mischief and mind your heads, they are just going to knock away
some of those props; and let’s see, you want to go with us, don’t you?
I hardly know what to say about it to-day; I shall have a large gang of
convicts aboard to assist in ‘bringing her up,’ and my orders are to be
strict about visitors.” “All right Mr. Bardoe, you’ll find room for us
I daresay.”
The tide was now flowing freely, and the yard began to be astir
with strangers. Many persons, quite ignorant of the details of
shiplaunching, were seeking information, and with no little pride we
undertook to enlighten a few, explaining the principle of launching,
and then conducting the inquirers to the dog-shores, comparatively
small pieces of timber, but forming the last connecting link, which,
being knocked away by falling pieces of iron, admit of the vessel
gliding into the stream.
Around the bows, and on either side of the “Monarch,” spacious stages
were erected for the accommodation of the public. Hosts of civilians
in gay dresses were arriving, and what with military uniforms, and
a strong muster of blue-coats, appearances were becoming uncommonly
lively.
Nor was the scene less stirring afloat, as aquatic parties were
rowing hither and thither, and a long line of boats began to take up
their positions in close proximity, not without peril, as the swell
becomes great when a quantity of water equal to the displacement of a
man-of-war is set in motion, and the boats’ crews have to look out in
case of being upset.
As it was drawing near to one o’clock the Marine band marched down, and
began playing inspiriting tunes. We then mounted the last ladder by
the ship’s side, and caught Bardoe’s eye; he was rather stiff with the
responsibilities of office, and had just given orders to clear away the
ladder which was moving already, so that no further person could enter
the ship. “Look alive young gentlemen,” Bardoe sung out, “tumble in
through a port-hole”; a privilege which we were not long in availing
ourselves of.
A stir with Bardoe’s gang of convicts next drew our attention. The
pilot had ranged his men to let go the anchors at a given order,
and for this they had to hold themselves in readiness. Presently a
tremendous thumping was heard under the “Monarch’s” bows, and then a
cheer arose. “Look out,” cried the pilot, “she is being christened”;
then all was silent, and a voice was heard, “Are you all ready Bardoe”?
“All ready, Sir,” was the prompt response.
Another sound was then heard: “Down goes the dog-shores!” exclaimed
Bardoe; then followed a slight tremble from stem to stern. “There she
goes,” resounded on all sides, as we began moving down the slip with a
pace which was at first easy, but which soon became accelerated to a
rapid, resistless, majestic descent, increasing as we took the water,
so that it seemed as if nothing could check our way until we reached
the opposite bank of the river. Bardoe had his eye on the stream, and
at the proper moment sung out lustily, “Stand by, my lads, let go,”
when down fell a huge anchor, and then a second one, which lessened
our speed. “Pay away handsomely,” exclaimed the pilot. “Port your helm
hard.” “Port it is, Sir,” by which movement the “Monarch” was brought
round skillfully, and prevented from touching the river mud.
There were two sentries on board having muskets loaded with ball
cartridge, as at times, an escaped convict would swim the Medway and
land unscathed on the Upnor Castle side of the river. Nothing of this
kind was attempted, however, on board the new line-of-battle ship which
had now entered her proper element, so that we landed in a boat without
having witnessed anything more sensational than the launch. A passing
reference to this scene may be considered by the reader as inapplicable
to the life of a balloonist; but I cannot well omit subjects of the
kind, if I faithfully chronicle the incidents of my early life, which I
am determined to portray to the letter, even if the general character
of my boyhood suffers thereby.
“Why not point out how you progressed with your studies, where you and
your friends worshipped, how many prizes you had for good conduct, and
such like?” asks a well-wisher to whom I read some of these pages in MS.
“The fact is,” I replied, “a very little of that sort of thing will
go a long way,” and we may come to it by and bye, but as I was a lad
of action, and have in after life stuck to my colours, though it was
thought I was cut out either for a parson or a soldier officer; I
must be true to my bent, and as to pretending that I was studious, or
intellectually inclined--well I will not affect anything of that sort,
having ever alluded to myself as a practical man; at the same time I do
hope, that by being straight-forward as to my plan and intentions, I
may not prove altogether dull in this truthful narrative.
“Still harping upon those horrid uninteresting experiences of your
early life and doings?” yes, and I must hark back upon a few other wild
acts and thereby risk further censure with an obtuseness deserving of
reprehension.
In this fresh adventure, I was all alone in my glory, having embarked
single-handed in a little practice with firearms.
My first essay with a horse-pistol, already described, when I nearly
shot a servant and my own relations, did not produce that dread that
might have been expected. Certainly I was now older, and had fought
with a wooden gun, had watched soldiers load, present, and fire, but
the fright attending my first efforts ought, by good right, to have
made me nervous on this score for many a year to come.
In one of my father’s rooms which was not marked strictly private,
there were some guns, swords, pistols, and a frightful old Spanish
blunderbuss with a bell-mouthed barrel and a bayonet affixed, which
was kept down by a catch. Whether it was that I had a coarse, depraved
taste in occasionally looking over this armoury, I cannot say, but
the blunderbuss took my fancy vastly. One day I became bold enough
to borrow it for a trial, and I surreptitiously provided myself with
ammunition, going among the ramparts in quest of something to let fly
at. As may be guessed, I made a poor hand with birds, owing to the
bell-mouthed weapon scattering so much. Annoyed at this, a packet of
ball cartridge was undone and I resolved to engage in target practice.
Following a road which led to the Spur battery, a disused sentry-box
presented itself, and as nobody appeared to be about, I made a circle
on one side, took aim, and fired!
Just as I was examining the effect, a file of the guard came in sight,
and I was sorely perplexed as to how to avoid detection, especially as
I noticed that daylight was let into the sentry-box on both sides; the
ball having penetrated through and through.
There were deep trenches on one side of the road and high palings
on the other, so that escape was impossible. Only one remedy was
applicable, and that was to keep moving with a view of diverting
attention from the damaged property; but the corporal was not to be
hoodwinked, he instantly detected what I had been at, and challenged me
to stand until I was overtaken.
In less than a minute I was a prisoner, and was marched off to the
guard-house. Here I was examined by a sergeant and sent with an escort
to the upper barracks.
On my way there I became the object of derision. When I was taken into
the presence of some officers on duty, I felt my position the more
keenly as Major O---- was my father’s friend and frequently visited our
house.
It was impossible to suppress a smile at my grotesque appearance,
carrying as I did the old blunderbuss, and I almost hoped that Major
O---- did not recognise me, as he turned his back and looked out of the
window.
The offence I had been guilty of having been notified, Major O----,
still gazing on to the parade, enquired if any sentry was on duty at
the time I fired. The information tendered being in my favour, Major
O----, without deigning to inspect me, ordered the sergeant to proceed
to my parents, and to request that I should not be permitted to handle
so dangerous a weapon for the future.
Slight as the sentence might have appeared, yet to me it was a
heavy one, as I was in no way prepared to face my father under the
circumstances.
On my way home I explained to the sergeant that we knew Major O----,
and I asked if he would mind going in the back way. To this proposition
he assented, and fortunately so, as the first person encountered was
our cook, who was a Scotchwoman and who espoused my cause, and insisted
that the sergeant should take some refreshment in the kitchen before
lodging his complaint in the parlour.
Cooky then stated that the captain was not at home, but that she would
undertake to deliver any message appertaining to my delinquency, when
the sergeant stated his orders from Major O----.
The cook observed that it was sure to be right, and that the major
would be at our house that evening to a party.
Sure enough the major came, and I saw him, but the cook had failed to
see my father, and the reticent major did not allude to the morning’s
interview, but politely left me in doubt as to whether he knew me or
not.
Among the various localities in which in some capacity or another I
well remember to have figured, was Gillingham Reach; here we were
accustomed to bathe, and three of us, viz., my brother, self, and
Stanley R----, a schoolfellow, had been disporting ourselves one day
for some time, where the stream ran fast, and I got out of my depth.
R---- was a splendid swimmer, and was far out in the tide, but I
disappeared and was beyond the reach of my brother, who, like myself,
could not swim.
Fortunately for me my friend Rudd was just in time to save my life, a
service which I am proud to acknowledge in these pages with his full
name.