Story Hour Readings: Seventh Year Part 43

2. What and where are the Severn, the Clyde, and the Shannon?

3. Who was Florence Nightingale? How was she connected with the Crimean War?

CABIN BOY AND ADMIRAL

Sir Cloudesley Shovel (1650?-1707) was the cabin boy of this story. He went to sea when quite young, and by his ability and courage won constant promotion, finally becoming admiral. In the sea fight between the English and French at La Hogue in 1692 (see Browning's "Herve Riel," page 307) Shovel's was the first English ship to break through the enemy's line.

It was a gray autumn evening more than two hundred years ago, in the reign of King Charles II. There was the moan of a rising storm over the North Sea, and the lowering sky, the flying streamers of cloud, and the great leaden waves, heaving sullenly far as the eye could reach, 5 warned even the bravest sailor that it was a day to keep safe in port. For what ship could live in such a sea as that?

Yet the English fleet, far from keeping in port, was beating seaward against wind and wave. On the quarter deck 10 of the flagship stood Admiral Sir John Narborough--the first seaman in England--who thirty-five years before had been a cabin boy. His daring and dauntless courage had earned for him the name of "Gunpowder Jack,"

and that dark autumn day was to test how well the bold name fitted him. But he had been tried many a time, and tempest and sea and the fire of the enemy could not make 5 his stout heart quail.

Suddenly his grave face lighted up and his stern gray eyes sparkled with joy. Far away along the eastern sky he saw a bristling line of tall masts with a flag which he knew well floating over them. The shadow of a smile of scorn 10 changed for a moment the expression of the admiral's face. For a moment only. There was no time for smiles.

There was mighty work to be done. The floating flag told that the Dutch were coming; and that day must see the enemy of England swept from the sea or England herself 15 forget her ancient glory.

Next to an old friend the British sailor loves an old enemy; and as soon as the men saw the flag of Holland they were eager for battle. On came the enemy in grim silence until their nearest vessels were within musket 20 range of the English. Then, all at once, bang! went the whole broadside from the admiral's vessel, and with a crash that seemed to echo to the sky the deadly struggle began.

The English blood was soon up and the only thought 25 was to fight to the last. Amid the blinding smoke, the reek of gunpowder, the thunder of cannon, and the grinding tear of the shot through the strong timbers, the sailors did n.o.ble duty that day in the dogged faith that they would "give as good as they got, anyhow!" 30

Aided by a sudden change of the wind, the Dutch vessels closed around the flagship with a perfect circle of fire.

Two guns were disabled, the main and mizzen masts had been shot away, and a long line of wounded and dying men were lying among the shattered rigging. The thunder from the guns on the right showed that there the English were getting the best of it; but even if help should come to the 5 admiral from that quarter, it might come too late.

But how should help be summoned? No signal could be seen in that smoke, and as for lowering a boat, the great waves that rushed roaring up the battered sides of the flagship were a sufficient warning against that. 10

"Lads," cried Sir John, going forward with a sc.r.a.p of paper in his hand, "this order must go at once to Captain Hardy, and the only way is for one of you to swim with it.

Fifty guineas to anyone that will volunteer!"

Such a request, in the face of that boiling sea and that 15 hailstorm of shot, was little better than a sentence of death; yet before the words were well out of his mouth, half the crew stepped forward. Before any of them could speak, however, a shrill, childish voice made itself heard: "Let me go, your honor!" 20

And there stood a ragged little cabin boy, bareheaded and barefooted, touching his forelock to Sir John, just as Sir John had touched his to the admiral, five and thirty years ago. The boy had evidently been in the thick of the fight. His hands were grimed with powder and there 25 were splashes of blood upon his tattered clothing. But through his bright, fearless blue eyes there shone a spirit worth that of ten ordinary men.

"You, my boy? Why, you can never swim so far in this sea, and with all that shot flying about." 30

"Can't I?" echoed the boy indignantly. "I've done more than that before now; and, as for the shot, I don't care _that_ for it. I'm not going to sit still while everybody else is fighting the Dutch. Flog me at the gangway to-morrow, if you like, your honor, but let me do this job to-day."

The old warrior's stern eyes glistened as if tears were 5 forcing their way. He grasped the thin little hand in his own.

"You're a chip of the old block," he growled, "and no mistake! Off with you, then; and may G.o.d keep you safe!" 10

The words were hardly spoken when the boy, thrusting the dispatch into his mouth, plunged headlong into the roaring sea. And then for fifteen fierce minutes all was one scene of fire and tumult and slaughter.

Many a time in that terrible quarter of an hour did the 15 weary men strain their bloodshot eyes, and strain them in vain, to catch a glimpse of English colors breaking through the smoke. "If help is to come at all, it must come soon,"

said more than one worn-out sailor.

Suddenly the admiral's grim face brightened with a 20 light never seen there before, and he drew a long, deep breath like one shaking off a heavy burden. At the same moment there broke out a fresh thunder of guns on the right, and through the smoke burst the flag of England, sweeping all before it like mists scattered by the rising sun. 25

The battle was won, and the few Dutch vessels that had escaped were disappearing in the dimness of night when the admiral and his remaining officers gathered on the quarter-deck to do honor to the little hero. He stood in their presence with a boyish smile upon his face; but when Sir 30 John held out a well-filled purse, the boy turned his head proudly away.

"Your honor, I did not do this job for money," said he firmly. "I did it for the sake of the flag and because you have been good to me. If you say you are satisfied, that is all I want."

The listening crew, forgetting all restraint, broke into a 5 deafening cheer; and the admiral's iron face softened strangely as he laid his blackened hand on the bare white shoulder: "G.o.d bless you, my brave lad! I shall live to see you on a quarter-deck of your own yet."

Thirty years later, when Queen Anne's greatest admiral, 10 Sir Cloudesley Shovel, sailed up the Thames in triumph, the first to greet him as he stepped ash.o.r.e was an old white-haired man who still retained traces of the fire and energy that had once distinguished "Gunpowder Jack."

"Welcome home, my lad!" said he, heartily. "I said 15 I'd live to see you on a quarter-deck of your own; and, thank G.o.d, I _have_ lived to see you there!"

1. What other sea fights have you read about? Make a list of sea books and sea battles with which you are acquainted.

2. What is the high point of interest in this story? What happened? How is the story related to Browning's "Herve Riel"?

3. In modern warfare, how do the ships communicate with each other? Contrast briefly naval warfare in Queen Anne's time (the early seventeen hundreds) with naval warfare of to-day as to: (_a_) propulsion of ships; (_b_) armor; (_c_) guns; (_d_) range of fighting.

4. What modern machines operate now in water fighting? Describe one of these.

LITTLE GIFFEN

BY FRANCIS O. TICKNOR

This poem is based on an actual occurrence. A lad, nursed back to life, rejoins the hard-pressed Southern troops and is killed in the first battle.

Ticknor (1822-1874) was a Georgian. By profession a physician, his love of poetry led to the production of some of the finest lyrics of the South. Among these the best known are "Little Giffen" and "The Virginians of the Valley."

Out of the focal and foremost fire-- Out of the hospital walls as dire-- Smitten of grapeshot and gangrene-- Eighteenth battle and he sixteen-- Specter such as you seldom see, 5 Little Giffen of Tennessee.

"Take him and welcome," the surgeon said; "Little the doctor can help the dead!"

So we took him and brought him where The balm was sweet in our summer air; 10 And we laid him down on a wholesome bed-- Utter Lazarus, heel to head!

And we watched the war with bated breath-- Skeleton boy against skeleton death!

Months of torture, how many such! 15 Weary weeks of the stick and crutch; And still a glint in the steel-blue eye Told of a spirit that wouldn't die,

And didn't! Nay, more! in death's despite The crippled skeleton learned to write.

"Dear Mother," at first, of course; and then, "Dear Captain," inquiring about the men.

Captain's answer: "Of eighty and five, 5 Giffen and I are left alive."

Word of gloom from the war, one day: "Johnston's pressed at the front, they say!"

Little Giffen was up and away; A tear--his first--as he bade good-by, 10 Dimmed the glint of his steel-blue eye.

"I'll write, if spared." There was news of fight, But none of Giffen.--He did not write.

I sometimes fancy that were I king Of the courtly knights of Arthur's Ring, 15 With the voice of the minstrel in mine ear And the tender legend that trembles here, I'd give the best on his bended knee-- The whitest soul of my chivalry-- For Little Giffen of Tennessee. 20

1. In what war did the incidents described occur?