My life and balloon experiences

by Henry Tracey Coxwell

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.