Chapter 4

"When at the height of 26,000 feet I could not see the fine column of the mercury in the tube; then the fine divisions on the scale of the instrument became invisible. At that time I asked Mr. Coxwell to help me to read the instruments, as I experienced a difficulty in seeing them. In consequence of the rotary motion of the balloon, which had continued without ceasing since the earth was left, the valve line had become twisted, and he had to leave the car, and to mount into the ring above to adjust it. At that time I had no suspicion of other than temporary inconvenience in seeing. Shortly afterwards I laid my arm upon the table, possessed of its full vigour but directly after, being desirous of using it, I found it powerless. It must have lost its power momentarily. I then tried to move the other arm, but found it powerless also. I next tried to shake myself, and succeeded in shaking my body. I seemed to have no legs. I could only shake my body. I then looked at the barometer, and whilst I was doing so my head fell on my left shoulder. I struggled, and shook my body again, but could not move my arms. I got my head upright, but for an instant only, when it fell on my right shoulder; and then I fell backwards, my back resting against the side of the car, and my head on its edge. In that position my eyes were directed towards Mr. Coxwell in the ring. When I shook my body I seemed to have full power over the muscles of the back, and considerable power over those of the neck, but none over my limbs....I dimly saw Mr. Coxwell in the ring, and endeavoured to speak, but could not do so; when in an instant black darkness came over me, and the optic nerve lost power suddenly. I was still conscious, with as active a brain as whilst writing this. I thought I had been seized with asphyxia, and that I should experience no more, as death would come unless we speedily descended. Other thoughts were actively entering my mind when I suddenly became unconscious, as though going to sleep. I could not tell anything about the sense of hearing; the perfect stillness of the regions six miles from the earth--and at that time we were between six and seven miles high--is such that no sound reaches the ear. My last observation was made at 29,000 feet.... Whilst powerless I heard the words 'temperature' and 'observation,' and I knew Mr. Coxwell was in the car, speaking to me, and endeavouring to rouse me; and therefore consciousness and hearing had returned. I then heard him speak more emphatically, but I could not speak or move. Then I heard him say, 'Do try; now do!' Then I saw the instruments dimly, next Mr. Coxwell, and very shortly I saw clearly. I rose in my seat and looked round, as though waking from sleep, and said to Mr. Coxwell, 'I have been insensible'. He said, 'Yes; and I too very nearly ...'. Mr. Coxwell informed me that he had lost the use of his hands, which were black, and I poured brandy over them."

When Mr. Coxwell saw that Mr. Glaisher was insensible he tried to go to him but could not, and he then felt insensibility coming over him. He became anxious to open the valve, but having lost the use of his hands he could not, and ultimately he did so by seizing the cord with his teeth and dipping his head two or three times.

During the journey they got to a height of 36,000 or 37,000 feet--about seven miles--that is to say, two miles higher than Mount Everest, the loftiest mountain in the world.

The year following Mr. Glaisher had a narrow escape from drowning.

He and Mr. Coxwell started from the Crystal Palace at a little past one o'clock on the 18th of April, 1863, and in an hour and thirteen minutes after starting were 24,000 feet high. Then they thought it would be just as well to see where they were, so they opened the valve to let out the gas, and came down a mile in three minutes. When, at a quarter to three, they were still 10,000 feet high Mr. Coxwell caught sight of Beachy Head and exclaimed: "What's that?" On looking over the car Mr. Glaisher found that they seemed to be overhanging the sea!

Not a moment was to be lost. They both clung on to the valve-line, rending the balloon in two places. Down, down, down at a tremendous speed they went; the earth appeared to be coming up to them with awful swiftness; and a minute or two later with a resounding crash they struck the ground at Newhaven close to the sea. The balloon had been so damaged that it did not drag along, and though most of the instruments were smashed their lives were saved.

Much valuable scientific information has been obtained by Mr. Glaisher, and by those who, like him, have made perilous journeys into cloudland.

THE SOLDIER WITH THE MAGIC WAND.

THE STORY OF GENERAL GORDON.

"That great man and gallant soldier and true Christian, Charles Gordon."--THE PRINCE OF WALES.

Charles George Gordon was born at Woolwich on the 28th of January, 1833.

In early life he was delicate, and of all professions that of a soldier seemed least suitable for him. At school he made no mark in learning.

He was a fearless lad, with a strong will of his own. When he was only nine years old, and was yet unable to swim, he would throw himself into deep water, trusting to some older boy to get him out. He was threatened on one occasion that he should not go on a pleasure excursion because of some offence he had committed; and when afterwards he was given permission he stubbornly refused the treat--circus though it was, dear to the heart of a lad.

After passing through the Royal Military Academy at Woolwich he obtained in 1852 a commission as a Second Lieutenant of Engineers, and was sent out to the Crimea in December, 1854, with instructions to put up wooden huts for our soldiers, who were dying from cold in that icy land.

On his way he wrote from Marseilles to his mother; and, after telling her of the sights and scenes he has witnessed, mentions that he will leave Marseilles "D.V. on Monday for Constantinople".

Whilst in the Crimea he worked in the trenches twenty hours at a stretch times without number.

Once when he was leading a party at night he was fired at by his own sentries. On another occasion he was wounded in the forehead, and continued his work without showing any concern. He found it dull when no fighting was going on, but when there were bullets flying then it was exciting enough.

He was mentioned in the official despatches, and received from the French Government the Cross of the Legion of Honour.

Five years later Gordon was fighting with the English and French armies in China. Shortly after he was made commander of a force that was commissioned by the Emperor of China to put down a rebellion of the Taipings, of so dangerous a character that it threatened to overturn the monarchy.

Gordon had only about 3000 men, chiefly Chinese; and, notwithstanding the fact that when he took over the force it had just been demoralised by defeat, he soon proved himself more than a match for the rebel hordes. From one victory to another he led his men on, and cities fell in quick succession before him. His name ere long began to have the weight of an army in the mind of the rebels. Major Gordon, in fact, had made a great mark in the Chinese Empire.

On the 30th April Gordon was before the city of Taitsan, where three months before the same army which was now under his command had been defeated.

Three times his men rushed into the breach which the big guns had made. Twice they were hurled back; but for a third time Gordon urged them on, and their confidence in his leadership was such that they went readily; and this time, after a swift, sharp conflict, the city was won.

Europeans were fighting both with him and with the rebels. In the breach at Taitsan he came across two of the men he formerly had under his command. One was shot during the assault; the other cried out, "Mr. Gordon! Mr. Gordon! you will not let me be killed". "Take him down to the river and shoot him," said Gordon aloud. Aside he whispered, "Put him in my boat, let the doctor attend him, and send him down to Shanghai". He was stern and resolute enough where it was necessary, but underneath all was a heart full of love and pity.

During this war the only weapon Gordon carried was a cane; and men grew to regard this stick as a kind of magic wand, and Gordon as a man whom nothing could harm.

On one occasion when he was wounded he refused to retire till he was forcibly carried off the field by the doctor's orders.

After he had put an end to the rebellion the Emperor of China wanted to give him a large sum of money; but Gordon, whose only object in fighting was to benefit the people, refused it, and left China as poor as he had entered it. He had various distinctions conferred upon him by the emperor, and the English people gave him the title of "Chinese Gordon".

A gold medal was presented to him by the emperor. Gordon, obliterating the inscription, sent it anonymously to the Coventry relief fund. Of this incident he wrote at a later period: "Never shall I forget what I got when I scored out the inscription on the gold medal. How I have been repaid a millionfold! There is now not one thing I value in the world. Its honours, they are false; its knicknacks, they are perishable and useless; whilst I live I value God's blessing--health; and if you have that, as far as this world goes, you are rich."

He returned to England and settled down at Gravesend, living quite simply, and working in his spare moments amongst the poor. To the boys he was a hero indeed. That was but natural, seeing he not only taught them to read and write, and tried to get them situations, but treated them as his friends.

In his sitting-room was a map of the world, with pins stuck in it marking the probable positions of the ships in which his "kings" (as he called his boys) were to be found in various parts of the world. Thus, as they moved from place to place, he followed them in his thoughts, and was able to point out their whereabouts to inquiring friends.

It is no wonder then that the urchins scrawled upon the walls of the town, "C.G. is a jolly good feller". "God bless the Kernel."

He visited the hospitals and workhouses, and all the money he received he expended on the poor; for he believed that having given his heart to God he had no right to keep anything for himself. He comforted the sick and dying, he taught in the Ragged and Sunday Schools. He lived on the plainest food himself, thus "enduring hardness". He even gave up his garden, turning it into a kind of allotment for the needy.

He had one object in life--to do good. His views were utterly unworldly and opposed to those generally held, but they were in the main right.

In 1874 Gordon went to Egypt, and at the request of the Khedive undertook the position of Governor-General of the Soudan, in the hope of being able to put down the slave trade.

He was beset with difficulties, and "worn to a shadow" by incessant work and ceaseless anxiety; but he would not give up.

In all his trials he felt the presence of God. As he watched his men hauling the boats up the rapids he "_prayed them up_ as he used to do the troops when they wavered in the breaches in China".

Once his men failed in their attack on an offending tribe; and, believing they had been misled by the Sheik, wanted to punish him; but Gordon saw the other side of the man's character--"He was a brave patriotic man," he said; "and I shall let him go".

Here was his hope. "With terrific exertion," he writes, "in two or three years' time I may with God's administration make a good province--with a good army and a fair revenue and peace, and an increased trade,--also have suppressed slave raids." He felt it was a weary work before him, for he adds: "Then I will come home and go to bed, and never get up till noon every day, and never walk more than a mile". No wonder he was worn and tired, for he moved about the Soudan like a whirlwind. He travelled on camelback thousands of miles. In four months' time he had put down a dangerous rebellion that would have taken the Egyptians as many years--if, indeed, they could ever have done it at all.

This is the kind of way in which he won his victories. On one occasion with a few troops he arrived at a place called Dara. That great slave trader Suleiman, who had given Sir Samuel Baker so much trouble, was there at the head of 6000 men. Gordon rode into the place nearly alone, and told the commander to come and talk with him. Utterly taken aback the man did as he was requested, and afterwards promised obedience.

It is true he did not keep his promise; but after fighting several battles Suleiman was at length taken prisoner by Gordon's lieutenant; and so many were the crimes and cruelties that he had committed that he was condemned to death, and thus the slaves of Africa became rid of one of their worst oppressors.

The work begun by Baker was continued with great success by Gordon. He estimated that in nine months he liberated 2000 slaves. The suffering these poor creatures had gone through was appalling. Some of them when set free had been four or five days without water in the terrible heat of that hot country. Every caravan route showed signs of the horrible trade, by the bones of those who had fallen and died from exhaustion, unable to keep their ranks in the gang.

So great was the effect which the thought and sight of these sufferings produced on Gordon that he wrote in March, 1879: "I declare if I could stop this traffic I would willingly be shot this night".

Later on he was to give his life for these people; but the hour was not yet.

When Gordon was in Abyssinia King John took him prisoner. Brought before his Majesty, Gordon fairly took away the breath of the monarch by going up to him, placing his own chair beside the king's, and telling him that he would only talk to him as an equal.

"Do you know, Gordon Pasha," said the king, "that I could kill you on the spot if I liked?"

"I am perfectly aware of it," replied Gordon calmly; "so do it, if it is your royal pleasure."

"What! ready to be killed?" asked the king incredulously.

"Certainly. I am always ready to die," answered the pasha; "and so far from fearing your putting me to death you would confer a favour on me by so doing."

Upon this his Majesty gave up the idea of frightening him.

At the end of 1879 Gordon was free from the Soudan for the second time. In 1876 he had left it, as he thought, for good; but, as it turned out, it was only for a few weeks' holiday in England, and then back to quell the rebellion.

Even now it was destined that he should soon return once again and finally. But during the breathing time that now came to him, so far from leading an easy life or "never getting up till noon," he was in all parts of the world, from China to the Cape, from Ireland to India, still on the old mission of endeavouring to do a little good wherever he was.

Leopold II., King of the Belgians, who had a profound regard for Gordon, greatly desired that he should go out to the Congo; and in January, 1884, he was just preparing to start in his Majesty's service when on the 17th of that month a telegram from Lord Wolseley arrived, asking him to return to England.

At six o'clock next morning he was in London; and the same day, having received instructions from the Government, he was on his way for the last time to Khartoum.

The Egyptian garrisons of the Soudan towns were sore beset by the legions which were gathering beneath the banners of the Mahdi, who, flushed with victory, was threatening an eruption into Lower Egypt itself.

To extricate these garrisons without bloodshed if possible was Gordon's object. It was a forlorn hope; still if any one man could accomplish it Charles Gordon was that man.

But ere long it was found even beyond his powers; for after sending off a portion of the Khartoum population in safety down the river, the Mahdi's legions closed in upon him, and Khartoum was in a state of siege.

For nearly a year he held the city against all the forces of the enemy; and meantime Great Britain was stirred with a vehement desire to save the life of this devoted man.

In the autumn of 1884 a force under the command of Lord Wolseley was sent out to relieve Khartoum.

Whilst the British troops were slowly forcing their way up the river and across the desert, Khartoum was enduring a death agony.

By January, 1885, the city had been reduced to starvation. Donkeys, dogs, rats, everything indeed in the way of flesh, had been consumed; even boot leather, the straps of native bedsteads, and mimosa gum did not come amiss to the sorely-tried garrison.

Famine had produced lack of discipline on the part of some of the troops; and Gordon foresaw well what the end must be, though without a fear for himself.

You can read for yourself from the reproduction of the last page of his diary, written on the 14th December, 1884, his own estimate of the length of time he could hold out; and, though he managed to keep back the enemy for another month, yet on the 26th January, 1885, whilst yet Sir Charles Wilson and the British troops were fighting their way up the river Nile to his relief, Khartoum fell.

In the early dawn of that day the Mahdi assaulted the town in overwhelming force--whether helped by treachery is not exactly known; and before his well-fed, well-trained hosts, the feeble worn-out garrison gave way, the walls were scaled, the city taken, and the hero who had won the affection of many nations fell amidst the people he had come to save.

It was on the whole a happy and fitting end. The mind cannot conceive Gordon rusting out; and the man lived so much in the presence of God that death was a welcome visitor.

"Like Lawrence," he wrote, "I have tried to do my duty"; and England confessed that right nobly he had done it.

Let those who wish to testify their love and veneration for this great man remember the Gordon Home for Boys at Chobham, which was founded to perpetuate his name. It is situated in the midst of Surrey; and here are to be found over two hundred boys rescued from the streets of our great cities.

The bracing life they lead in their country home soon brings the colour to their cheeks, and the training they receive fits them for becoming useful citizens and valuable servants of the State. Most of them join the army, and the Gordon boys are now to be found serving the Queen in every land.

"VALIANT AND TRUE."

THE STORY OF SIR RICHARD GRENVILLE.

One of the most glorious of the many battles of the British navy was fought on the 10th and 11th September, 1591, by Vice-Admiral Sir Richard Grenville, in his ship _The Revenge_, against a great fleet of Spanish vessels. The fight was described by the gallant Sir Walter Raleigh, from whose account (published in November, 1591) the facts given in the following narrative are taken.

If the story seems somewhat out of place amongst nineteenth century records, it is, nevertheless, such a unique display of stubborn heroism "under fire" that I have not hesitated to include it.

On the 10th of September, 1591 (31st August, old style), Lord Thomas Howard, with six of her Majesty's ships, five victualling ships, a barque and two or three pinnaces, was at anchor near Flores, one of the westerly islands of the Azores, when Captain Middleton brought the news that the Spanish fleet was approaching.

He had no sooner delivered his message than the Spaniards came in sight. The few ships at Lord Howard's command were in a very unready state for fighting. Many of the seamen were ill. Some of the ships' companies were procuring ballast, others getting in water.

Being so unprepared for the contest, and so greatly outnumbered, the British ships weighed their anchors and set sail. The last ship to get under weigh was _The Revenge_, as Sir Richard waited for the men left on the island, who would have otherwise been captured.

The master of the ship wanted him to "cut his mainsail and cast about, and to trust to the sailing of his ship"; but Sir Richard utterly refused to turn from the enemy, saying that he would rather choose to die than dishonour himself, his country, and her Majesty's ship, and informed his company that he would pass through the two squadrons in spite of them. He might possibly have been able to carry out his plan; but the huge _San Philip_, an immense vessel of 1500 tons, coming towards him as he was engaging other ships of the fleet, becalmed his sails and then boarded him. Whilst thus entangled with the _San Philip_, four other ships also boarded _The Revenge_.

"The fight thus beginning at three of the clocke in the after noone," says Sir Walter Raleigh, "continued verie terrible all that evening."

Before long, the _San Philip_, having received the fire of _The Revenge_ at close quarters, "shifted herself with all diligence, utterly misliking her first entertainment".

The Spanish ships had a great number of soldiers on board, in some cases two hundred, in others five, and in some even eight hundred; whilst on _The Revenge_ there were in all only one hundred and ninety persons, of whom ninety were sick.

After discharging their guns the Spanish ships endeavoured to board _The Revenge_; but, notwithstanding the multitude of their armed men, they were repulsed again and again, and driven back either into their ships or into the sea.

After the battle had lasted well into the night many of the British were slain or wounded, whilst two Spanish ships had been sunk. An hour before midnight Sir Richard Grenville was shot in the body, and a little later was wounded in the head, whilst the doctor who was attending him was killed.

The company on board _The Revenge_ was gradually getting less and less; the Spanish ships, meanwhile, as they received a sufficient evidence of _The Revenge's_ powers of destruction, dropped off, and their places were taken by others; and thus it happened that ere the morning fifteen ships had been engaged, and all were so little pleased with the entertainment provided that they were far more willing to listen to proposals for an honourable arrangement than to make any more assaults.

As Lord Tennyson writes:--

And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the summer sea, But never a moment ceased the fight of the one and the fifty-three. Ship after ship the whole night long their high-built galleons came,

Ship after ship, the whole night long, with her battle-thunder and flame; Ship after ship, the whole night long, drew back with her dead and her shame. For some were sunk and many were shatter'd, and so could fight us no more-- God of battles, was ever a battle like this in the world before?

_The Revenge_ had by this time spent her last barrel of gunpowder; all her pikes were broken, forty of her best men slain, and most of the remainder wounded. For her brave defenders there was now no hope,--no powder, no weapons, the masts all beaten overboard, all her tackle cut asunder, her decks battered, nothing left overhead for flight or below for defence.

Sir Richard, finding himself in this condition after fifteen hours' hard fighting, and having received about eight hundred shots from great guns, besides various assaults from the enemy, and seeing, moreover, no way by which he might prevent his ship falling into the hands of the Spanish, commanded the master gunner, whom he knew was a most resolute man, to split and sink the ship. He did this that thereby nothing might remain of glory or victory to the Spaniards: seeing that in so many hours' fight, and with so great a navy, they were not able to take her, though they had fifteen hours in which to do so; and moreover had 15,000 men and fifty-three ships of war against his single vessel of five hundred tons.