From the yams of the old Navy it is apparent that the service atmosphere in early times must have been somewhat different from that with which we are surrounded in this year of grace. A spirit of waggishness in general and of aloof and eccentric dominance among the senior officers prevailed which finds small place in our workaday and centrally controlled life, otherwise the many tall tales of wooden ships could have no basis. These pleasant episodes, largely of our formative period, should be told and recorded before they pass from memory of man.
The Admiral's Wife
Shortly after the close of the Civil War, Admiral Farragut was ordered to Europe in the steam frigate Franklin. The Admiral’s appointment, while nominally to command of the station, was really intended as a compliment to the Admiral and as affording opportunity for a visit of good will to the various European courts. Airs. Farragut, a female relative, and Lieutenant Blank, acting as aide, accompanied him. The Franklin had as a tender, to facilitate entrance into shallow ports and for “side trips,” the small paddle-wheel sloop of war Frolic. On the day of the following episode the Frolic had been ordered to take the party from the Franklin at Constantinople through the Bosphorus, for a short cruise in the Black Sea. A Turkish pilot was in charge of the rather difficult navigation and had stationed himself with men of his own country beside the wheel aft, where he was busy conning the vessel through the shipping and intricate passages. Mrs. Farragut and her friend, in order to see all that was to be seen, had placed and occupied two chairs in the extreme bow, from which vantage point they were enjoying the view. The pilot could see ahead only with considerable difficulty and continually rushed from side to side to get a better view ahead; finally he called to Lieutenant Blank and asked that the ladies be requested to put their chairs on one side or the other so that the ship could be maneuvered with greater safety. So the Lieutenant politely spoke to Mrs. Farragut and asked permission to move them as the pilot requested and, of course, explained the reason. Mrs. Farragut liked her vantage point and refused to budge. A short time after the pilot excitedly complained again to the aide that he could not be responsible for the safety of the ship unless he had a clear view ahead. Again Lieutenant Blank approached the ladies and explaining the real necessity requested them to take up some other station.
“I don’t propose to move from this spot and I told you so before,” replied Mrs. Farragut.
“In that case, I am sorry to say I shall have to remove you.”
“I’d like to see you do it.”
Thereupon the Lieutenant knowing that he had to finish what he had started, called to two husky quartermasters and ordered them to lift the chair and place it further aft and on the starboard side. Just as the chair commenced to rise from the deck the lady bounced out, and thoroughly angry, bolted aft and below.
After the vessel had come to anchor the Admiral sent for our hero and asked,
“Blank, what is this trouble I hear of between you and Judy?”
“No trouble, sir; Mrs. Farragut was sitting in a position which prevented the pilot from seeing ahead and would not move when I requested her to, so I had two men pick up the chair.”
The Admiral turned to Mrs. Farragut and shook an admonitory finger at her:
“Judy, how often have I told you that ashore you may be in command, but at sea you are not the boss. Mr. Blank, you did exactly right.”
Duly Extraordinary
About the year 1867, the flag officer of the “European Squadron,” as it was then known, was Rear Admiral Louis M. Goldsborough, a giant of a man, 6 feet 2 inches in height, large in frame, and with a thick head of red, red hair. He was an excellent officer and seaman, but eccentric in deportment and between feigned and actual severity kept all hands guessing.
The tender Frolic, flying his flag, was lying at the Mole in Gibraltar, and the Admiral had been invited by the governor to a dinner given at Government House to the senior visiting naval officers. Our friend Lieutenant Blank accompanied him as his social aide. In accordance with rank, the American officer sat near the head of the table with the governor, and the aide near the foot. After the Queen’s health and numerous other healths had been drunk, the company relaxed into the gentle custom of postprandial anecdotes of the Seven Seas. Admiral Goldsborough, who was a remarkable raconteur, but whose ability was rather of the Munchausen School, easily held the table under an admiring, if skeptical, sway. After each story he would lean across the table, and fixing the aide with a severe eye, demand;
“Isn’t that so, Lieutenant Blank?”
And Lieutenant Blank would bow and reply, “Yes, Admiral.”
As story followed story the truth became more and more stretched and the Lieutenant found it increasingly difficult to appear hearty in his confirmatory' statement. Finally after a particularly atrocious yam, the Admiral repeated his menacing question:
“Isn’t that so, Lieutenant Blank?”
The aide, fearing to commit himself either way, and yet dreading the ferocious old tyrant, stammered, “Admiral, I— think—,” but got no farther.
“You think—you—you think; Mr. Blank, go down to the Ragged Staff and wait in the barge for me.” And Lieutenant Blank went.
Hours later the red-headed giant marched down to the boat, shoved off, and returned to his ship without a word. At the gangway he turned to the then very apprehensive young man, and growled, “I’ll see you in the cabin in the morning.”
Promptly at nine o’clock the aide presented himself to the Admiral, who was pacing the deck of the little cabin, his head almost touching the beams above, a rather fearsome monster. Without preliminaries he backed the little Lieutenant into the corner by the decanter-decorated sideboard and roared,
“Mr. Blank, you don’t know the first duties of an aide. Don’t you understand that when I lie you are to swear to it?”
“No,” Mr. Blank mustered up enough courage to reply; “no, sir, I don’t.”
“Well, that’s enough from you, you are relieved from duty with me; report to the commanding officer for watch duty.”
So that was the end of the staff duty of Lieutenant Blank. It just happened that the officer who relieved him was Lieutenant George Dewey.
The Chaplain's Mistake
Admiral Goldsborough was too famous a character in his day to allow him to escape with but one example of his peculiarities. The scene is the quarter-deck of the first-class steam screw frigate Colorado, flagship of the European Squadron, and the time 11.00 A.M. on a bright Sunday morning in some port in the blue Mediterranean. Divine service was held with much strictness and pomp in those days and was attended by all hands. Services were conducted on the after part of the spar deck, the Chaplain having his pulpit “rigged” just forward of the wheel and almost under the break of the poop; the officers sat immediately facing him, and the men, about 600 strong, stood in divisions behind.
On this particular Sunday, “all hands up and aft” had been reported, the orderly had gone through the cabin door to report to the Admiral, whose armchair stood vacant in the center of the waiting group of officers, that divine service was ready, and the Chaplain stood by, prepared to commence his duties. The minutes passed and no Admiral; the orderly was sent in a second time, the portable organ wheezed through another hymn, and still no Admiral. The commanding officer thinking that the Great One did not intend to appear, nodded to the Chaplain to commence.
With reverential voice of customary ministerial solemnity, the good man bowed his head and intoned, “The Lord is in his Holy Temple,” and came to a full stop, for at that precise moment the huge Admiral violently flung open the cabin door and bellowed,
“Hold on Chaplain, hold on. I’ll have you to understand that the Lord is not in his Holy Temple until I get there.”
Thereupon the service continued as per routine.
A Naval Commander-in-Chief depends more on his Captain than a General ashore does on his Generals. The latter can personally take upon himself the direct command of his troops, and himself go to any part to remedy the errors in movements of his subordinates. The Admiral has no influence personally except over the men in the ship on board which he is embarked; smoke prevents signals being seen, winds change, or are not the same in all parts of the line of battle— it is, therefore, of all professions that in which the subordinates should take the most responsibility upon themselves.—Napoleon.