The minor sketches have been drawn from a variety of sources. One or two of these require special mention. In preparing the notice of John O’Neill, the Poet of Temperance, the writer has received kind help from Mr. Richard Gooch of Brighton, himself a poet of temperance. Messrs. J. & J. H. Rutherford of Kelso have also been good enough to place at the writer’s service—but, unfortunately, too late to be of much use—a copy of their recently published autobiography of John Younger, the Shoemaker of St. Boswells. In the all-too-brief section devoted to American worthies, valuable aid has been given to the author by Henry Phillips, Esq., jun., A.M., Ph.D., Corresponding Member of the Antiquarian Society of Philadelphia, U.S.A.
In all probability the reader has never been introduced to so large a company of illustrious Sons of Crispin before. It is sincerely hoped that he will derive both pleasure and profit from their society.
WILLIAM EDWARD WINKS.
Cardiff, 1882.
CHAPTER I.
SIR CLOUDESLEY SHOVEL
THE COBBLER’S BOY WHO BECAME AN ADMIRAL.
“Honor and shame from no condition rise;
Act well your part, there all the honor lies.
Fortune in men has some small difference made,
One flaunts in rags, one nutters in brocade;
The cobbler aproned and the parson gowned,
The friar hooded, and the monarch crowned.
“What differ more’ (you cry) ‘than crown and cowl?’
I’ll tell you, friend,—a wise man and a fool.
You’ll find, if once the monarch acts the monk,
Or, cobbler-like, the parson will be drunk;
Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow;
The rest is all but leather or prunella.”
—Pope, Essay on Man.
SIR CLOUDESLEY SHOVEL.
On the south side of the choir of Westminster Abbey may be seen a very handsome and costly monument, on which reclines a life-sized figure in marble, representing a naval commander. The grotesque uniform and elaborate wig are of the style of Queen Anne’s time. The commander himself has all the look of a well-bred gentleman and a brave officer. He is a capital type of the old school of naval heroes, stout in person, jolly in temper, but terrible in action, by whom our shores were defended, our colonies secured to us, and the power and stability of the British Empire were established for centuries to come. These men had, in many instances, risen from the lowest social status, and had been compelled to begin their nautical career in the humblest fashion, accepting the most menial position the naval service could offer them. When they came to hold positions of command, they had, perhaps, no culture nor general education; the little knowledge they possessed was confined to the arts of navigation and warfare, and this they had picked up in actual service. Such knowledge served them well, and made them equal to any emergency. It made them capable of deeds of valor and enterprise, that brought renown to their own name and honor to their country. They could sail round the world; they could, by their discoveries, add new territories to the British crown, and open up splendid fields for commercial enterprise; they could keep their vessels afloat in a gale of wind, get to windward of the enemy if they wanted, pour a broadside into him, board and capture his vessels or blow up his forts; and, very often fighting against fearful odds, beat him by dint of superior skill in seamanship and greater courage in action. Such a commander was “old Benbow,” whose name appears so often in the nautical songs of the last century; and such a commander was his contemporary, Sir Cloudesley Shovel, to whose memory the handsome monument just referred to is erected. Let us pause for a moment to read the inscription. It runs thus:
“Sir Cloudesley Shovel, Knt., Rear-Admiral of Great Britain, Admiral and Commander-in-Chief of the Fleet: The just reward of long and faithful services. He was deservedly beloved of his country, and esteemed though dreaded by the enemy, who had often experienced his conduct and courage. Being shipwrecked on the rocks of Scilly, in his voyage from Toulon, the 22d of October 1707, at night, in the fifty-seventh year of his age, his fate was lamented by all, but especially by the seafaring part of the nation, to whom he was a worthy example. His body was flung on the shore, and buried with others in the sands; but being soon after taken up, was placed under this monument, which his royal mistress has caused to be erected to commemorate his steady loyalty and extraordinary virtues.”
If a stranger to Sir Cloudesley Shovel’s history were to stand looking at this fine monument, admiring the fine figure which adorns it and reading the glowing epitaph, he would no doubt be greatly amazed if the intelligent verger by his side were to whisper in his ear, “That man was once a cobbler’s boy; the first weapons he ever used in fighting the battle of life were the awl and hammer and last.”
Yet such was really the case. It is true he did not remain long at his humble craft. He left it, indeed, sooner than any of the notable men whose life-story we have to tell in this book; yet he wore the leathern apron long enough to entitle him to a place in the category of Illustrious Shoemakers.
Cloudesley Shovel was born in the county of Norfolk in the year 1650, at a village called Clay, lying on the coast between Wells and Cromer. His parents are said to have been in but “middling circumstances;” but it is to be feared that even this modest term describes a better position than they actually held. They were evidently of the humblest class, and had no means of giving their boy either a good education or a good start in the way of business. Cloudesley came by his rather singular name as no doubt thousands had done before his time, and have done since. It was given him in honor of a relative who was in good circumstances, and in the hope that it might probably be a “means of recommending him to this relative’s notice.” But fortunately, as it proved for him, and proves also for many others, no fortune was left him. His parents were glad to send him to the village shoemaker to learn the art and mystery of making and mending boots and shoes.
Finding the drudgery of a sedentary occupation and the flatness and quietude of village life irksome to his active temperament and aspiring spirit, after a few years’ work at shoemaking, he made off to sea. His taste lying in the direction of the royal naval service, he went and joined himself to a man-of-war. Here he had the good fortune to come under the care and command of Sir John Narborough. This distinguished officer had once been in Cloudesley’s position as a man-of-war’s cabin-boy, and having shown himself a smart sailor and an industrious student of navigation, had been rapidly promoted by his generous captain, Sir Christopher Myngs. Sir John Narborough was therefore well disposed, by his kindly disposition and his own early experience, to favor any youth of