Part 23

After the War of Independence, there lived in a cabin among the mountains of Tennessee a Spaniard named Farragut, who had come to America to help the people in their fight for liberty. He had married a brave little Scotch woman. While her husband was away one day several skulking Indians hung around and watched for a chance to get into the cabin. The mother had seen them and sent her two little boys up under the roof, while she stood inside the door for hours, with an ax in her small hands, to kill the first Indian who tried to enter. After a long watch, the red men stole away, as much afraid of the fire in that little woman’s eye as of the ax in her hands. One of the two boys who crouched in almost breathless silence up in the cabin loft was Davy Farragut.

When this lad was seven his father was appointed sailing master in the navy, and moved with his family to live by the large lake near New Orleans. When off duty, Farragut took his boys sailing on the lake. One day when he was out fishing he found an old man lying in the bottom of a rowboat, alone and unconscious. Farragut took the sick man home for his wife to nurse. In a few days the stranger died of yellow fever. The good wife caught the dread disease and died, too. The poor father was left to care for five motherless children under ten years of age.

It turned out that Captain David Porter, who was then in command of the naval station at New Orleans, was the dead man’s son. In gratitude for the care of his dying father, Captain Porter offered to adopt one of the Farragut boys. David was chosen, and the naval officer took the sturdy little lad to his home in New Orleans, and afterward to Washington, where he was sent to a good school.

In Washington the Secretary of the Navy saw what a bright, honest, pleasant-faced lad Davy Farragut was and, when he was ten years old, appointed him a midshipman on his adopted father’s ship. This was early in the War of 1812. After Porter’s warship, the _Essex_, had captured a British ship, the _Alert_, Middy Davy, lying awake in his hammock, saw a sailor of the _Alert_ standing near, with a cocked pistol in his hand. Davy pretended to be asleep and the man passed on. The boy got up, crept into Captain Porter’s cabin, and whispered to him what he had just seen.

“Fire! Fire!” shouted the captain, and the sailors of the _Essex_ came scrambling up on deck. Porter ordered them down to capture the imprisoned sailors of the _Alert_, who were preparing to kill the American crew and take the ship to England. Before any damage was done, the astonished Britishers were all in irons, thanks to the wide-awake shrewdness of eleven-year-old Midshipman Farragut.

Captain Porter was ordered to sail around South America into the Pacific Ocean to warn American crews that there was a war going on between the United States and Great Britain. He was also to capture British ships as prizes. Over one of these ships he placed in command David Farragut--then a boy of twelve. When Davy ordered the British sailors to “fill away the maintopsail,” the former captain of the ship was angry. It was bad enough to be captured and have his ship taken into a South American port as a prize; but to have his crew ordered about by an American boy of twelve seemed too much for an English captain to bear.

Shouting that he would shoot any Englishman who dared to touch a rope without his orders, the former captain went below to get his pistols to carry out his threat. Captain Farragut sent one of his men to follow the swearing captain down and tell him that if he came back on deck with a pistol in his hand he would himself be shot and pitched overboard. The man decided not to come back. Young David brought the British ship into port and reported to his proud foster-father what he had done.

The _Essex_ fought a great battle with two British warships, and Farragut himself has left a description of the sights in his first great sea fight:

“I shall never forget the horrid impression made upon me at the sight of the first man I had ever seen killed. It staggered me at first, but they soon began to fall so fast that it all appeared like a dream, and produced no effect on my nerves.

“Some gun-primers [for loading the cannon] were wanted and I was sent after them. In going below, while I was on the ward-room ladder, the captain of the gun directly opposite the hatchway was struck full in the face by an eighteen-pound shot, and fell back on me. We tumbled down the hatch together.

“I lay for some moments stunned by the blow, but soon recovered consciousness enough to rush up on deck. The captain, seeing me covered with blood, asked if I were wounded; to which I replied, ‘I believe not, sir.’

“‘Then,’ said he, ‘where are the primers?’ This brought me to my senses, and I ran below again and brought up the primers.”

After being powder boy and doing all sorts of service on a man-of-war, the little middy was taken prisoner, but was released at the close of the war.

When Farragut was fifteen he went on a cruise in the _Washington_ to watch for pirates in the Mediterranean Sea. While anchored off Naples he witnessed an eruption of the great volcano, Vesuvius. A naval chaplain, then American consul at Tunis, begged to have the Farragut youth stay with him, and study French, Italian, literature, and mathematics. While on a horseback journey to the Desert of Sahara, David suffered a sunstroke, which hurt his eyes so that he was unable to read much afterwards.

On his return home, Farragut passed the necessary examinations and at eighteen received the rank of lieutenant in the navy. Then he went to New Orleans and found that his father was dead and that his own sister did not know him. Here he was exposed to yellow fever and was very ill of it in a hospital after his return to Washington.

Lieutenant Farragut was married, soon after his recovery, and spent most of his time on shore until the breaking out of the Civil War. At that time he was living in Norfolk, Virginia. He did not, however, approve of the act of Virginia in withdrawing from the Union. People told him, that if he thought that, it would not be safe for him to live in Virginia. He replied coolly, “Well then, I can live somewhere else”; and he and his wife packed up and went to live on the Hudson River above New York City.

Though born and bred in the South, Farragut was a Union man and offered his services to his country. He was appointed to take New Orleans. It was the largest city in the South, and an important seaport. Its capture would cut short the war by preventing the South from selling cotton. Also, it would open the Mississippi, so that the western states could have that outlet to the sea. It was a dangerous undertaking, but Farragut was glad of the chance to risk his life for his country. He said as he started out, “If I die in the attempt, it will only be what every officer has to expect.”

Captain Farragut now commanded a fleet of forty-eight ships, carrying over two hundred guns. In six days and nights his mortars threw nearly six thousand shells on the two forts barring his way, one on each side of the Mississippi. The enemy sent five blazing rafts to set fire to his fleet, but Farragut’s men either dodged the burning craft or towed them out of the way. One heroic deed was the cutting, under fire from the forts, of the great chain which had been stretched across the Mississippi to keep the ships from coming up to New Orleans.

This was one of the greatest naval battles in the war; for, with a few wooden ships, Farragut ran against the current and past the two forts, meeting fire-rafts and fighting with a large fleet above the forts. Two of the enemy’s warships were ironclads. He finally captured the city of New Orleans after great loss of life on both sides. The next day the happy victor wrote home:

“MY DEAREST WIFE AND BOY:

“I am so agitated that I can scarcely write, and shall only tell you that it pleased Almighty God to preserve my life through a fire such as the world has scarcely known. He has permitted me to make a name for my dear boy’s inheritance, as well as for my comfort and that of my family.”

“The Hero of New Orleans” was soon made Rear Admiral for this, splendid service to the country. But there was to be still another test of the courage of David Glasgow Farragut. It came two years later in Mobile Bay, which he entered with fourteen ships and four monitors, or small ironclad boats. He saw his monitor, the _Tecumseh_, sinking with all on board.

“What’s the trouble?” came through his speaking trumpet to the men on the monitor nearest the sinking craft.

“Torpedoes!” was the reply.

What was to be done? Should he risk the whole fleet in a harbor filled with lurking mines? The good admiral sought help from above. “O God,” he whispered, “direct me what to do.”

Farragut heard the answer in his heart. Without an instant’s delay he shouted to the captain of his own ship, the _Hartford_, “Go ahead! give her all the steam you’ve got.”

The _Hartford_ took the lead and became the chief target of forts and batteries on shore as well as of the Southern gunboats in the harbor. As if that was not dangerous enough, the heroic admiral took his place in plain sight high above the deck, where he could better direct the battle; and so that he could still keep his commanding place if struck by a cannon-ball, his devoted men lashed him to the rigging.

That is one of the heroic pictures in the history of patriotism: Admiral Farragut tied up in the rigging of his flagship and borne amid the whizzing of cannon-balls and the bursting of shells, carrying the Stars-and-Stripes through the fire and smoke of battle to one of the grandest victories ever won in naval warfare.

THE STRENUOUS LIFE OF ROOSEVELT

Theodore Roosevelt’s father was a well-to-do business man in New York City. His forefathers were Dutchmen from Holland, who had come over when the country was new. The Roosevelts had been wealthy and well known for two hundred years. Though Theodore’s

father was able to give his family everything they needed or desired, he could not give this little son health and strength, for the baby was born frail and weakly. He suffered so with asthma that his anxious parents feared he could not live long. One dark night when Baby Teddy was gasping for breath, they took him driving fifteen miles into the country where he could have pure air.

While yet in his childhood, Theodore Roosevelt began the long, sturdy fight to conquer his weak body and “make the most of himself.” He was a “self-made man” even more than if he had been born poor but healthy in a log cabin. As a tiny child he tried to do what he saw well, strong boys do. As soon as he could run about the house he would climb up and perform such daring feats that the neighbors were often frightened. His father fitted up a gymnasium on a porch for him so that he could have fresh air while taking his health exercises.

It was a long, hard fight, but young Theodore’s brave spirit won the victory over his frail body. While his body grew big and strong his brave heart seemed to grow larger too, and he showed a broad, unselfish spirit. Thus his big, warm, strong heart conquered his poor, puny body.

Almost in babyhood Teddy began to read. His sister tells how he came to her one day, still wearing a stiff white dress and his curly hair long, dragging a book that was too big to carry in his little arms, to ask her what “foraging ants” were. While learning to walk, ride horseback, and swim, Theodore Roosevelt was reading books and finding out all he could about birds, butterflies, and other insects by watching and catching them. He and several other small boys at Oyster Bay, where the family spent many summers, collected and mounted specimens, and started what the boys called the “Roosevelt Museum of Natural History.”

While preparing a butterfly for his “museum,” Theodore happened to look at it through a small glass and found that he could not see as well as other boys. His father had spectacles fitted to his eyes, and everything looked so much clearer and brighter that he went about laughing and shouting “I can _see_!--_I can see!_”

The year when Theodore was eleven, the family traveled in Europe and Egypt. During their trip up the Nile he made quite a collection of the bright birds of that country for his “museum.” His brother scolded because Theodore kept live specimens and mounting materials in the washbowls and pitchers in the rooms of the hotels where they were staying. The boys lived and studied in Germany long enough for Theodore to learn to speak German quite well.

At sixteen, young Roosevelt went to Harvard University. He was a good student, yet he spent much of his time in athletic sports. He would tie his glasses tight to his head and box with the biggest fellows he could find who would fight with him. Of these “misfit matches” the other students said, “Roosevelt has a bad handicap, but what he lacks in size and strength he makes up in pluck.”

He spent his college vacations in the backwoods of Maine, and when he was graduated, at twenty-one, he had not only shown himself to be a good student, but he had gained much in health and strength. Also he read much more than was required in his college studies, and had begun to write his first big book, “The History of the Naval War of 1812.”

After graduation, Theodore began to study law, and decided to go into politics. Many of the ward headquarters of New York City were in saloons. As he went about with the ward workers, they expected their “silk stocking” candidate, as they called young Roosevelt, to favor the saloons and to use his “roll” (of money) freely. But instead of this, Theodore Roosevelt told them plainly that, if elected, he would fight against them and their bad methods.

He was elected and he kept his word. He began as a reformer, exposing and opposing bribery and other wicked things that were being carried on in politics. As Police Commissioner of New York he found much that was wrong and fought and struggled to make it right. He was Assistant Secretary of the Navy when the war was declared against Spain. He could not rest day or night because he found so much to do in getting ready to carry on the war. It was he who sent the word to Admiral Dewey on the other side of the world which prepared him for battle and helped the United States with the famous victory of Manila Bay. He was so keen and active that President McKinley said to his Cabinet: “Roosevelt has the whole program of the war mapped out.” But he resigned from his office to become a colonel of the Rough Riders, and was soon leading his brave company of cowboys and college men up San Juan Hill in the face of a blazing Spanish battery.

Although Colonel Roosevelt was by no means highest in military rank, he became the hero of the United States’ war with Spain. When that war was over he was elected governor of New York. All the “bosses” hated this man who would not consent to their robbing or cheating the people. They asked him to run for Vice-President of the United States, thinking that his hands would be tied, for a vice-president has very little to say as to how the government shall be conducted. But in a few months President McKinley, with whom Roosevelt was elected Vice-President, was shot and killed. This made Theodore Roosevelt President of the United States. Four years later he was elected President again. His courageous spirit and true heart, with his active brain and tireless body, made him one of the greatest presidents of the United States.

He had kept himself in good health and spirits by his constant labors and many risks as a cowboy on his own ranches, and by hunting grizzly bears and other big game in the Far West. Even while living in the White House, he showed his friends and fellow-workers in the government what he meant by “the strenuous life.”

Many expressions first used by Theodore Roosevelt are now heard in common conversation. This is the first use he made of the words, “the strenuous life”:

“I wish to preach, not the doctrine of ignoble ease, but the doctrine of the strenuous life--the life of toil and effort.”

The “square deal” was another expression of his, as in this statement:

“The labor unions shall have a square deal, and the corporations shall have a square deal, and, in addition, all private citizens shall have a square deal.”

The “big stick,” another phrase of Roosevelt’s, was not so well understood. He said of this:

“There is a homely old adage which runs, ‘Speak softly and carry a big stick and you will go far.’”

Other words of his--such as “mollycoddle,” “pussyfoot,” “hit the line hard,” and “one hundred per cent American”--almost explain their own meanings.

A year after leaving the White House, Colonel Roosevelt went hunting big game--elephants, lions, rhinos, and so forth--through the heart of Africa. On the way back he was the guest of kings, emperors, and important citizens of Europe.

After his return home he went on a dangerous trip of adventure and discovery in South America. From all these hunting trips he brought home many rare specimens for collections called by his name in the finest Natural History museum in the United States. It was even proposed to name the wonderful Panama Canal, which he did most to put through, the “Roosevelt Canal.”

His last years were spent in urging the patriotic men and women of America to take the part of human freedom, and force the “square deal” among the nations of Europe. Among his last words were: “He who is not willing to die for his country is not worthy to live in his country.”

He believed in preventing war by being fit and prepared to fight. One of the best things he did was to help in arranging the peace treaty between Japan and Russia. Theodore Roosevelt’s life motto, as expressed by his actions, was:

“In time of peace prepare for war; and in time of war prepare for peace.”

CLARA BARTON, “THE ANGEL OF THE BATTLEFIELD”

Miss Clara Barton, a quiet little old lady, used to tell stories of her childhood among the hills of central Massachusetts. She remembered how she was taken to the village school for the first time, and how the teacher, a tall, kind-looking man, put her in the spelling class with the smallest children, to study such words as _dog_ and _cat_.

“I don’t spell there,” said little Clara; “I spell in _Artichoke_.” And the small three-year-old showed her contempt for words of three letters by turning the leaves of her spelling book till she came to a page of wide three-syllable columns beginning with “Artichoke.” The teacher had to hide his smile from the small girl who could spell such long words.

Clara was very fond of her handsome big brother. “My brother David was very fond of horses,” she said, telling about him in later life. “He was the ‘Buffalo Bill’ of that part of the country. It was his delight to take me, a little girl five years old, to the field, seize a couple of beautiful young horses, and, gathering the reins of both bridles in one hand, throw me on the back of one colt, then spring upon the other himself; catching me by one foot, and bidding me ‘cling fast to the mane,’ we would go galloping away over field and fen, in and out among the other colts, in wild glee like ourselves.

“They were merry rides we took. This was my riding school. I never had any other, but it served me well. To this day my seat on a saddle or on the bare back of a horse is as secure and tireless as in a rocking-chair--and far more fun!

“Sometimes, in later years, when I found myself suddenly on a strange horse in a trooper’s saddle, flying for life or liberty, I blessed my baby lessons and wild gallops among the beautiful colts.”

By the words, “riding for life on a strange horse in a trooper’s saddle,” Miss Barton referred to her life as an army nurse, when she, with the mounted soldiers, sometimes found herself in great danger when the enemy’s cavalry was close behind.

At the age of eleven, Clara had her first chance to learn to be a nurse and fit herself for her life work. Her brother

David, then a young man, fell from the ridgepole of a large barn he was helping to build. The shock of this fall affected his mind, besides making him ill in body. He wanted no one near him but the brave little sister he had taught “to ride like the wind.”

So Clara stayed with her big brother, day and night, for two long years. She was thirteen when he was well again. Miss Barton told, long afterward, of the strange feeling she had at that time:

“I was again free, my work done, I wondered that my father took me to ride so much, and that my mother hoped she could make me some new clothes now--for in those two years I had not grown an inch!

“My shut-in life had made me the more bashful. I had grown even more timid, shrinking, and sensitive in the presence of others; also I was afraid of giving trouble by making my wants known. Instead of feeling that my freedom gave me time for play, it seemed to me like time wasted, and I looked about, anxious to find something useful to do.”

Then the family sent Clara away to school, hoping to conquer her painful shyness. She studied so hard that, at the age of fifteen, she became a teacher. There were not many public schools in those days, twenty-five years before the Civil War; and the few free schools were looked down on by well-to-do people as “charity” schools.

Clara Barton began with one of these schools where she had at first only six poor children to teach. But she was such a good teacher that before long six hundred came there to be pupils under her charge. She tried very hard to help everyone she could; at the end of eighteen years’ service as a teacher she had become almost an invalid and had lost her voice.

Still she could not bear to be idle while she had the use of her hands. From early girlhood her handwriting had been plain and neat. This, with her great desire to work, helped her to find a place in the Patent Office in Washington. Clara Barton was one of the first women to hold a position in the employ of the United States government. This gave offense to some of the men in that department. In those days most people thought it improper for a woman to work in an office; so these men stared at the new clerk, making remarks in her hearing about “brazen, strong-minded, ‘woman’s-rights’ women,” adding that such a creature was not fit to associate with gentlemen like themselves.

Sensitive and shrinking though she was, Miss Barton kept on. She was soon promoted to a position of trust. It was not long before she found that some of the very men who had insulted her were “patent thieves,” guilty of selling government secrets. Her duty to the country, rather than a wish for revenge, obliged her to report the wrongs that these ungallant “gentlemen” had done, and they were promptly dismissed from the service they had betrayed.

During the years of her humdrum life as a government clerk, Miss Barton was thrilled by the stories she read in the newspapers of the noble work of Florence Nightingale, the famous nurse in the Crimean War between Great Britain and Russia. It was said that the English soldiers adored Nurse Nightingale almost as if she were an angel from heaven, and some of them kissed her shadow when it fell upon their pillows as she passed by.