It was the memorable 1st of June. A sea fight ever to be renowned in
history was raging between the fleets of England and France. The great
guns were thundering and roaring, musketry was rattling, round-shot, and
chain-shot, and grape, and langridge, and missiles of every description,
invented for carrying on the bloody game of war, were hissing through
the air, crashing against the sides of the ships, rending them asunder,
shattering the tall masts and spars, sending their death-dealing
fragments flying around, and hurling to the deck, mangled and bleeding,
the gallant seamen as they stood at their quarters in all the pride of
manhood, fighting for the honour and glory of heir respective countries.
A dark canopy hung over the scene, every moment increasing in density
as the guns belched forth their flashes of flame and clouds of smoke,
filling the pure air of heaven with sulphureous vapours, and almost
concealing the fierce combatants from each other's gaze.
"Who is that brave youngster?" asked the captain of the renowned
`Marlborough,' a seventy-four, which lay hotly engaged surrounded by
foes in the thick of the fight; "I never saw a cooler thing or better
timed."
"The son of Mr Ripley the boatswain, sir," was the answer.
"I must have my eye on him, there is stuff in that lad," observed the
captain. The deed which had called forth this eulogium was certainly
well worthy of praise. The "Marlborough" had for some time been
furiously engaged, almost broadside to broadside, with the "Impetueux,"
a French seventy-four, which ship had just fallen aboard her, the
Frenchman's bowsprit becoming entangled in her mizen rigging. To keep
her antagonist in that position was of the greatest consequence to the
"Marlborough," as she might thus rake her fore and aft, receiving but
little damage in return. An officer and two or three men sprang into
the "Marlborough's" mizen rigging to secure the bowsprit to it. The
French small-arm men rushed forward to prevent this being done, by
keeping up a fire of musketry. The two seamen fell. The lieutenant
still hung in the rigging, but the rope with which he was lashing the
bowsprit to it was shot from his hand; no other was within reach.
Having just delivered the powder he had brought from below, young Ripley
was watching the proceeding. Seizing a rope he sprang into the ringing
unhurt amid a shower of bullets, and handed it to the brave officer.
Together they made the required turns for lashing it fast, and descended
to the deck in safety. The young powder-boy then resuming his tub was
speedily again seen at his station, composedly sitting on the top of it
as if he had performed no unusual deed. The "Marlborough" had soon
another antagonist, the "Mucius," seventy-four, which fell aboard her on
the bow, the three ships thus forming a triangle, of which the British
ship was the base. With these two opponents, each more powerful than
she was, the "Marlborough" continued the seemingly unequal fight, but
the stout arms and hearts of her crew made amends for their inferiority
in numbers. Her mizen-mast fell soon after the "Mucius" engaged her,
her fore and main masts followed, and the Frenchmen began to hope that
victory was to be theirs, but they had not discovered at that time the
stuff of which British tars are made. Though dismasted herself, she had
her foes fast so that they could not escape. So well did her crew work
their guns, that they quickly shot away the bowsprit and all the lower
masts of the "Impetueux," those of the "Mucius" soon sharing the same
fate. At this juncture another French ship, the "Montague," passing
under the "Marlborough's" stern, fired a broadside into her of
round-shot and langridge, killing many of her brave crew, and wounding
among others her captain, though receiving but a few shots in return.
The first battle in that long, protracted, and bloody war was over, and
won by England's veteran admiral, Lord Howe; six of the enemy's finest
line of battle ships forming the prize of victory, and among them the
"Impetueux."
The "Marlborough's" captain had not forgot the promise he had made to
himself in favour of Young Ripley. As he lay wounded in his cabin he
sent for the boatswain. The proud father had heard of his son's
gallantry, and the captain's words had been repeated to him. It would
have been difficult to find a finer specimen of the superior class of
British seaman, the pith and sinew of the navy, than the boatswain of
the "Marlborough" presented, as, still in the prime of manhood, he
stood, hat in hand, before his captain. By his manner and appearance he
looked indeed well fitted for the higher ranks of his profession, but it
was his lot to be a boatswain, and he did not complain. With unfeigned
satisfaction he heard the account of his son's gallantry and coolness
rehearsed by the captain's lips.
"You have always proved yourself to be a brave man and a good officer,
and although I have it not in my power to reward you as you deserve, I
can your son," said the captain. "Would it be satisfactory to you to
see him placed on the quarterdeck?"
The father's heart beat quick; the blush of gratified pride rose to his
cheeks as he answered, "It is the thing of all others I should prize. I
trust that he will not be found unfitted for the rank to which he may
attain if you thus put his foot on the lower ratlins."
"I am glad to have hit the thing to please you, Mr Ripley," said the
captain. "Your son shall at once be rated as a midshipman in the ship's
books;" and then he added, a shade of grief passing across his
countenance, "He will have no difficulty in getting an outfit from the
kits of the four youngsters who were killed on the 1st. By the by, what
is he called?"
"Pearce, sir--Pearce Ripley is his name," answered the boatswain.
"Very well; send my clerk to me, and tell your boy that he is a
midshipman. The first lieutenant will introduce him to his new
messmates, and secure him a favourable reception," said the captain as
the boatswain withdrew.
Pearce Ripley was a fine-looking lad of about fourteen, with an
ingenuous countenance and frank manner, which spoke of an honest, brave
heart. With the ship's company he had been a general favourite; it was
to be proved how far he would recommend himself to the officers.
In the afternoon the young gentlemen, as all the members of the
midshipmen's mess were called, were summoned on the quarterdeck, and
briefly addressed by Mr Monckton, the first lieutenant. Pearce Ripley
was then sent for, and the boatswain's son had no cause to complain of
his reception by those whose messmate he was about to become. They,
with one exception, came forward and cordially shook him by the hand,
and when he entered the berth they all seemed to vie who should pay him
the most unobtrusive attention as forthwith to place him at his ease.
So surely will true bravery and worth be rightly esteemed by the
generous-hearted officers of the British Navy. Pearce had gained the
respect of his messmates; he soon won their regard by his readiness to
oblige, his good temper, his evident determination not to give or take
offence, and his general kind bearing towards all. On duty he showed
that he was resolved to merit the good opinion which had been formed of
him. The only person who differed from the majority was Harry Verner, a
midshipman of about his own age. Though Verner had shaken hands with
him, it had been with reluctance and marked coldness. His manner was
now haughty and supercilious in the extreme, and he took every
opportunity of making sneering remarks about men who had risen from the
lower orders always being out of place and never doing any good. "If
such were to become customary in the service, it would drive all the
gentlemen out of it," he remarked one day in Pearce's hearing. "Not if
those who entered it knew how to behave as gentlemen," Pearce replied,
quietly. Verner said nothing in return, but he gave a look to show his
intense displeasure. Generally Pearce walked away when Verner spoke in
that style, or when at table, and he could not move, pretended not to
hear what was said.
The fleet reached Portsmouth. Great was the satisfaction of the British
nation at the victory won. The good King George the Third and the kind
Queen Charlotte went on board all the ships and visited the wounded;
honours were awarded to the chiefs, and those officers who had
especially distinguished themselves were presented to their Sovereigns.
Among others was Pearce Ripley, as the midshipman who had helped to take
the "Impetueux." The "Marlborough's" crew declared on this that he was
a marked man and must get on in the service. The remark greatly excited
Harry Verner's indignation and wrath. "It is high time for me to quit
the service after this," he remarked, when the King patted Pearce on the
head, but did not even glance towards him. Of memorable days in English
history, the 1st of June, 1794, stands justly prominent.