From Powder Monkey to Admiral | Page 2

he was left an orphan, and apprenticed by the
parish to a tailor. While sitting one day alone on the shop-board, he was
struck by the sight of the squadron coming round Dunnose. Instantly
quitting his work, he ran to the shore, jumped into a boat, and rowed
for the Admiral's ship. Taken on board, he entered as a volunteer.
Next morning the English fleet fell in with a French squadron, and a
warm action ensued. Young Hopson obeyed every order with the
utmost alacrity; but after two or three hours' fighting he became
impatient, and asked what they were fighting for. The sailors explained
to him that they must fire away, and the fight go on, till the white rag at
the enemy's mast-head was struck. Getting this information, his
resolution was formed, and he exclaimed, "Oh, if that's all, I'll see what
I can do."
The two ships, with the flags of the commanders on each side, were
now engaged at close quarters, yard-arm and yard-arm, and completely
enveloped in smoke. This proved favourable to the purpose of the brave
youth, who mounted the shrouds through the smoke unobserved,
gained the French Admiral's main-yard, ascended with agility to the
main-topgallant mast-head, and carried off the French flag. It was soon
seen that the enemy's colours had disappeared, and the British sailors,
thinking they had been hauled down, raised a shout of "Victory,
victory!" The French were thrown into confusion by this, and first
slackened fire, and then ran from their guns. At this juncture the ship
was boarded by the English and taken. Hopson had by this time
descended the shrouds with the French flag wrapped round his arm,
which he triumphantly displayed.
The sailors received the prize with astonishment and cheers of approval.
The Admiral being told of the exploit, sent for Hopson and thus

addressed him, "My lad, I believe you to be a brave youth. From this
day I order you to walk the quarter-deck, and if your future conduct is
equally meritorious, you shall have my patronage and protection."
Hopson made every effort to maintain the good opinion of his patron,
and by his conduct and attention to duty gained the respect of the
officers of the ship. He afterwards went rapidly through the different
ranks of the service, till at length he attained that of Admiral.
We might give not a few instances of more recent date, but the families
and friends of those "who have risen" do not always feel the same
honest pride as the great men themselves in the story of their life.
While it is true that no sailor boy may now hope to become "Admiral of
the Fleet," yet there is room for advancement, in peace as in war, to
what is better than mere rank or title or wealth,--a position of honour
and usefulness. Good character and good conduct, pluck and patience,
steadiness and application, will win their way, whether on sea or land,
and in every calling.
The inventions of modern science and art are producing a great change
in all that pertains to life at sea. The revolution is more apparent in war
than in peace. There is, and always will be, a large proportion of
merchant ships under sail, even in nations like our own where steam is
in most general use. In war, a wooden ship without steam and without
armour would be a mere floating coffin. The fighting Temeraire, and
the saucy Arethusa, and Nelson's Victory itself, would be nothing but
targets for deadly fire from active and irresistible foes. The odds would
be about the same as the odds of javelins and crossbows against
modern fire-arms. Steam alone had made a revolution in naval warfare;
but when we add to this the armour-plating of vessels, and the terrible
artillery of modern times, "the wooden walls of old England" are only
fit to be used as store-ships or hospitals for a few years, and then sent to
the ship-yards to be broken up for firewood. But though material
conditions have changed, the moral forces are the same as ever, and
courage, daring, skill, and endurance are the same in ships of oak or of
iron:--
"Yes, the days of our wooden walls are ended, And the days of our iron

ones begun; But who cares by what our land's defended, While the
hearts that fought and fight are one? 'Twas not the oak that fought each
battle, 'Twas not the wood that victory won; 'Twas the hands that made
our broadsides rattle, 'Twas the hearts of oak that served each gun."
These are words from one of the "Songs for Sailors," by W.C. Bennett,
who has written better naval poems for popular use than any one since
the days of Dibdin. The same idea