Part 1

[Illustration: HENRY COXWELL.

(_From a Photograph by Messrs. Negretti & Zambra._)]

MY LIFE AND BALLOON EXPERIENCES,

WITH A SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER ON MILITARY BALLOONING.

BY HENRY COXWELL.

London: W. H. ALLEN & CO. 13 WATERLOO PLACE, S. W. 1887.

CONTENTS.

PAGE

Boyhood and Youth 1

First view of a Balloon 8

Juvenile Conflicts 11

Launch at Chatham Dockyard 23

School-boy Observations of Green’s Balloon 32

Settling in Life 38

The Vauxhall Balloon 41

Departure for Amsterdam 43

First Ascent 48

Lieutenant Gale’s Balloon 55

Nocturnal Ascent 59

Ascents from Chelmsford 66

Engagements in Belgium 69

The Field of Waterloo 88

Ascent at Cologne 108

Exhibition at Berlin 116

Narrow Escape in Hanover 131

Ascent at Leipsig 147

1852 148

1853 155

The beginning of Military Ballooning 167

Military Ballooning during this Century 176

Air Torpedoes and Bombshells 185

Military Ballooning in the Year of Jubilee 189

Remarkable Ascents during this Century 202

Ascent, over five miles high, by Green and Rush 217

A Jump out of the Car in America 224

An Englishman’s Parachute Descent in 1839 225

Channel Ballooning 227

MY LIFE

AND

BALLOON EXPERIENCES.

Not far from Rochester Castle, at Wouldham, on the banks of the Medway, I first saw the light of day, at the parsonage house, on March 2nd, 1819.

Should this allusion to my birthplace lead to the inference that I am the son of a clergyman it will not be correct, although I am a grandson of the Rev. Charles Coxwell, of Ablington House, Gloucestershire; but my father was a naval officer who had seen a tolerable share of active service, and who now sought repose in a secluded spot which presented a striking contrast to the deck of a man-of-war, and to those bustling scenes of warfare which he had so far participated in as to sustain personal injury, and to require retirement for the sake of his health.

Before I was old enough to remember any of the first associations of childhood in this rural abode at Wouldham, our family changed residence, so that my earliest recollections date from the time shortly after we had left the parsonage and had taken up our abode on board His Majesty’s ship “Colossus,” my father having accepted command of the vessels in ordinary at Chatham. Here we stayed for three years, and, young as I was, I do not forget being ducked every morning from the stage of the old seventy-four, nor the swinging round at tide-time of the black old hulk, and of frequently being pulled ashore in a dinghy to the marine stairs, where a landing was effected on a plank.

In taking a retrospective view of boyhood, the next circumstance which impressed me was my being taken to a school at the marine barracks, where one Sergeant W---- superintended an elementary school for the sons of officers. Our usher, a corporal, was said to have had a Cambridge education, but I suppose he went wrong in some weak point before he enlisted; an under teacher was the master’s son, Jack W---- as he was familiarly styled, a precocious lad who betrayed a decided proclivity for the young gentlemen’s tarts, so that at last Jack was regarded as a person who could instruct in _meum_ and _tuum_, but certainly did not set an example to the pupils in distinguishing between them.

After I had been some time at this school, an event occurred which excited the curiosity of all the boys, and which cannot well be forgotten by those who broke through the rule of not leaving without permission. One morning, Sergeant W---- and the second in command appeared at their respective desks in full uniform rather earlier than usual, and appointed W---- junior to be a monitor, as some important duty, either on parade or in another remote part of the barracks, was coming off. “Mind nobody leaves his seat until we return,” was the last injunction as the sergeant marched out followed by the corporal, whose general appearance was more intellectual than martial; his red-tailed coat and black trowsers were conspicuously a misfit, and as he wore a thin pair of spectacles, no doubt rendered indispensable by university studies, the usher did somehow or other disturb the gravity assumed by the obedient scholars. Jack in office, however, otherwise W---- junior, was fully equal to a demonstrative attitude, and by a vigorous smack of the cane on an old desk, that had never yet felt paint, struck terror among us, so that for a few minutes order reigned supreme. Some wicked wag, however, soon observed that, for his part, all he was afraid of was that Jack would not remain in office up to the dinner-hour, by which certain vile insinuations as to the appropriation of cakes, &c., were conveyed to the nearest boys; this caused an insubordinate titter, which again brought down the sturdy cane, this time with such a threatening thump that its actual use on the hands was held to be highly probable, especially as the talkative lad in the first class again ventured a piece of undertoned information, albeit of a graver kind.

“Don’t you know,” he said, “it is punishment morning, and the masters have left to witness the flogging.”

Now before the lash was mitigated, or abolished, at any rate when I was a youth, military floggings were of such frequent occurrence that punishment morning was generally once-a-week; the elder pupils knew all this, but some of the new boys listened with eager attention, if not with fear, to the announcement.

“Hush,” cried one, who heard a tramp on the parade ground, a fact which indicated that the Royal Marines were at that moment marching down to the rear, where the halberts were invariably pitched, and where five or six privates were not unfrequently strapped up in succession, each to undergo from fifty to two hundred lashes, according to the articles of war, as at that time interpreted. No sooner was it buzzed about what was to take place than one of my own class--I will not name the incorrigible--enquired if there was any chance of having a peep.

“No, it is not allowed,” said the big boy, “and anyone found looking out of the barrack windows, commits a serious offence; but if,” he continued, with a patronizing air, “you can get behind the green baize near the door, you and I will slip out and see what is going on.” An opportunity having presented itself, we deserted forthwith. I was then led to a hole in a window-frame which had been plugged up, and evidently used on former occasions.

The Chatham Division of Marines was now to be seen drawn up in square. The red-painted triangle was ready for the first delinquent, and we readily recognized the portly frame of the sergeant-major whose voice disturbed the stillness of the ranks, by saying, “Number one, strip!” I was struck with the apparent alacrity with which the man took off his undress jacket, pulled off his shirt, and drew his belt tightly round his waist; it was the work of a moment; there was no flinching, and he walked over to the halberts, where his hands and feet were strapped, in a firm way, which was very sensational and attractive to us ensconced youngsters. A drummer was immediately at hand in a white jacket, and the cat hung in his right hand until the sergeant-major cried, “one” when suddenly the drummer threw himself into position, and the cat flourished high over his head and fell evenly between the white shoulders, producing a foul red mark on the fair form which shrugged perceptibly, but less so as the work proceeded, so that by the time the first complement of twenty-five lashes had disfigured the poor man’s flesh, he appeared to be cat-hardened, for no cry or groan escaped his lips, he took his hundred-and-fifty, and when cast loose, his shirt and a great coat being thrown over his back, he marched off under escort to the infirmary, for another kind of dressing, with an amount of unflinching courage worthy of a better cause.

Number two was a different kind of man altogether; he was stouter, and his skin looked redder, there was no manifest fear in him; indeed, he assumed a defiant swagger, and looked round as if for approbation during the process of securing, nor did the first few strokes make him writhe like his predecessor, but no sooner had number twelve sounded, than a piercing groan was uttered, when the fifes and drums were called into requisition to drown his shrieks; and then, it may as well be confessed, we withdrew to the schoolroom, after witnessing that which did upset us, and was calculated to sicken persons in more advanced life.

The next incident mentally photographed on my mind is one which took place at the village of Gillingham, situated about three miles from Chatham. Our house had a commanding view of the river Medway right away to Sheerness. After leaving the “Colossus,” we had taken up our quarters in the neighbourhood where a great number of officers resided. The guard-ship “Prince Regent” lay at her moorings three-quarters of a mile distant, and my eldest brother, a mate, was on board awaiting a lieutenancy. He frequently came on shore and visited us at home; but he had gone away to some foreign station before the winter of 1827 set in, or he would have accompanied my sisters to the Rochester ball, probably, in the place of my father who generally required a little persuasion on the part of the girls before mixing with the red and blue coats when they were going in for dancing. The forthcoming Rochester assembly was duly prepared for, of course it was a carriage drive, and in those days the return journey was not always considered safe, although highway robbers were getting less frequent; still it was well to be provided with firearms.

A day or two before the said ball, I was myself an eyewitness of sundry preparations in the domestic circle; first, there was the coming and going of dressmakers, and such sort, and on my respected parent’s side, there was an inspection of small arms, and well I remember it; the taking down of a naval trophy, very like a horse-pistol, which was cleaned, and afterwards charged with powder and ball, but the ammunition was not needed, for the assembly took place, and the girls were safely housed without any adventure.

On their return the pistol had been placed on the top of an old escritoire, and on the following Sunday, during divine service in the parish church--and I may add in our house as well, my mother being an invalid, and a younger sister being therefore called upon to read prayers--just at this serious moment I was wandering about the house, no doubt in search of mischief, when I espied the pistol, and enquired of Mary the housemaid who was busy bed-making, what that was on the drawers. Mary had enough to do in minding her own business, so that I was requested rather pettishly not to bother her. I insisted, despite this protest in the bed-room, and examined the pistol, asking the domestic to allow me to snap the flint and steel in the direction of her foot. I could not keep in check a desire to embark in this little experimental trigger pulling; of course I had not the slightest idea that my pistol could by oversight or neglect have remained charged, nor was I sufficiently practised in gunnery to see the propriety of examining the pan, or thrusting down the ramrod to ascertain if all was clear. My idea was to strike sparks from the flint, and I did so, but “gracious goodness,” as Mary exclaimed when she flew back as if killed--and no sooner had she shrieked than my own mother and sister followed suit--not only had I discharged the contents close to the girl’s foot, but the bullet had gone right through the floor, down into the room close to my parent’s sofa where she was reclining. What consternation ensued I cannot describe; had I shot anybody or wounded myself? Master Henry was most frightened, I am sure, as the pistol fell from my hand, and I stood pale and amazed, until reassured that no one was hurt, and that I was not supposed to have had any deliberate intention of shooting Mary or my dear mother. It was a close shave for all there, and I required protection on the maternal side after my father returned from church.

“The young rascal,” he said, “had no business prowling about on a Sunday morning; it was only a few days previously,” he continued in a great rage, “that gunpowder had exploded in his pocket.” This was a fact. I had collected some half cartridges which the soldiers had dropped at a review, and was about trying my hand at springing a mine, when my father came in sight, and to avoid detection I thrust a lighted slow match in my pocket, when some loose powder ignited; being now called upon for an explanation as to handling the pistol, I pleaded ignorance as to its being loaded, &c., &c., and as the fault lay really on my father’s side, I was pardoned, and I believe kissed by Mary for not having deprived her of existence.

Scarcely six months had elapsed after this first experience of shooting, ere the village talk turned upon a promised balloon ascent from the Rochester Gasworks, by Mr. C. Green; several of my schoolfellows and neighbours were going over to witness the first event of the kind in that part of Kent. My father had determined not to go to Rochester, but to be satisfied with a distant view from Chatham Lines, where I myself, and my brother and sisters, were to assemble on the occasion. I had strict orders to carry with all possible care an old spy glass, of about sixteen inches round by two feet and a half in length. Such a telescope under a boy’s arm now would inevitably excite ridicule as to its much vaunted day and night powers. I cannot speak very positively at the present time, though I still possess the said instrument, and occasionally hand it about as a curiosity, on account of its having been my father’s and the one that was taken to the hill overlooking the gas-works to enable me to obtain a good view of Mr. Green’s balloon, in the year 1828.

It was my lot on that day, as youngest son, to stand erect with back towards my father, with the spy glass on my right shoulder to admit of his getting the first view of the balloon. “There it is sure enough,” was the intimation which only served to make me unsteady and anxious to see what manner of thing a balloon could be. “Steady young gentleman,” said the captain, “your sisters and friends wish for a good view. Now then, take your line straight over Master Henry’s shoulder, as if you were aiming point blank at that black gas holder, you will see the balloon half full.” After our party had taken their turns and had commented on what they saw, I was myself raised to the highest pitch of expectancy, and could not for the life of me get a proper focus or catch sight of the object for some time. At length I sighted the variegated dome, and indulged in a long and selfish gaze; so much so, that other boys with natural longing gave signs of impatience by elbow digs, and at length shook the glass and compelled me to look no longer.

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.