It is probable that youngsters entered in this fashion were regarded, as a class, with a certain amount of jealousy, both on the part of the captain and that of their contemporaries. There is a decided spice of spiteful cynicism both in the curiously anomalous official designation by which they were distinguished—“Volunteers per Order”—and also in the more common and popular appellation of “King’s Letter Boys”; and it is quite conceivable that, when a captain had sailed from England with his snug little assortment of young brothers, nephews, and what not, the arrival of a smart frigate with a batch of King’s Letter Boys to be placed on his books would be decidedly unwelcome; but being “Volunteers per Order,” he had no option but to accept them.
No sort of qualifying examination was imposed upon these candidates, and regulations as to age were conspicuous by their absence. Indeed, it is here that the most absurd incongruities existed; for it was not considered in the least degree necessary that the applicants should be of an age to perform any kind of duty when they were entered on the ship’s books, or that they should even put in an appearance on board.
There are numerous instances of children in the nursery being borne on ship’s books, and shifted from ship to ship until they were old enough to embark.
The famous Thomas Cochrane, tenth Earl of Dundonald, whose name is associated with more daring and successful exploits than that of almost any naval officer, was born in December, 1775, and entered as captain’s servant when five years old, being kept on various ships’ books for years. His father, meanwhile, having originally intended him for the Army, had obtained for him a captaincy in the 79th Foot, and he did not join his first ship until he was nearly eighteen.
Some youngsters, through interest, were entered direct as midshipmen, at a very early age. Sir Edward Hamilton, for instance, born 12th March, 1772, was entered as midshipman on the 21st May, 1779, when he was only seven years old; and it is stated that he actually took part in an action on board his father’s ship, the Hector, in 1780! What part this warrior of eight years old performed in action is not stated.
Another officer, Sir Provo W. P. Wallis, whose long life bridged over the gulf from the days of Nelson’s victories to the last decade of the nineteenth century, was borne on a ship’s books from the age of four, until he actually joined his first ship, the Cleopatra, as midshipman, at thirteen.
Sir William Symonds, born in 1782, was actually entered at three years of age, and eventually embarked as midshipman at twelve.
Instances of entries at seven, eight, and nine years old are quite numerous; and, of course, the captain drew their pay, whether they joined or not.
This appears, at first sight, to reflect some discredit upon the captains, who, it may be said, must have been aware that they were, in a sense, obtaining money under false pretences. It is not fair, however, to saddle them with responsibility for the results of absurd regulations, which it was well known at headquarters must tend to such abuses; the whole system was a farce, and any little additional absurdities on the part of the captains were usually winked at with the forced leniency which is one of the inevitable accompaniments of inadequate legislation.
Here, then, we find a sad lack of method in regard to the majority of entries in Nelson’s time, though that great man himself was of the relatively mature age of twelve when he went afloat in 1770.