Somewhat lower down, at a hard where boats could be pulled up, my brother and I wandered one afternoon with a view of going off to one of the ships in ordinary. We waited for a long time hoping to see a waterman, but as no one appeared we took French leave and rowed away in a flat-bottomed boat which had previously been pulled up high and dry.
It happened to blow a strong westerly wind, but, boy-like, we took little heed of this until we got well out into the middle of the Medway. Then we discovered our mistake, as the wind and tide were setting one way; we missed the ship, and were swept down the river in the direction of Long Reach. All the efforts we made to pull were of no avail, but it so happened that our course was towards the guard-ship “Prince Regent.” We managed to row as nearly as possible in this direction with a view of obtaining assistance, but the waves were very rough, and had it not been for a seaman who hailed us out of the port bow we should have been carried away to Sheerness, and perhaps to sea.
This worthy, perceiving that we had no control over the boat, sung out lustily, “Pull in shore, my lads,” a piece of advice which we were just enabled to put in practice; by so doing, we crossed the river, and, although we were taken a long way on the weather side, yet here we were less exposed to the wind and tide. My brother then took off his clothes, and pushed the boat up by the stern. It was a long and tedious undertaking, but we got back safely and deposited the boat as we found it, without complaint or even detection.
In the year 1832, my father was taken seriously ill with a pulmonary complaint, brought on by injuries he received in boarding a Spanish line-of-battle ship. Several of his ribs were broken in this action, and he was never able to go to sea again, as it brought on spitting of blood. In the month of June he breathed his last, and as my mother was an invalid, and the neighbourhood was not considered to suit her case, we soon left the seaport and moved to Eltham, which was not far distant from Woolwich, where my eldest brother was previously stationed in a frigate. A school was selected for myself and second brother in the vicinity of Woolwich Common, where young gentlemen, as at Chatham, were prepared for the Military College.
During our stay at Eltham, I frequently used to spy balloons in the air, as they came from some of the Metropolitan gardens. Often have I watched them career along with a degree of interest which fast gained upon me, so that nothing would do, but I must go up to London and see, if possible, Mr. Green.
I was walking out one evening, when an object emerged from the clouds, which was rapidly descending. I perceived the grapnel at the end of a rope, and knew all about it in a moment.
Here was a chance of witnessing a descent. My heart leaped with joy, and I stood still until I made out the balloon’s course.
That being settled, I struck out like a hunter over hedges and ditches, and came up at the death before the gas had been exhausted.
It was Mr. Green’s balloon! The aëronaut was very busy, and, as I thought, rather ill tempered with the people for not standing back as he ordered them.
In my anxiety to get a close view, I first came in contact with the celebrated aërial voyager. I was pushing my way to the front ranks, and was looking at the valve, when I was admonished for my pains, and informed that I had better go to Greenwich Hospital. This advice raised a laugh, though I was at a loss to understand the reason, until my personal appearance became the subject of observation; then I perceived the force of Mr. Green’s remark.