"The court, having maturely weighed and considered the evidence for and against the prisoner, together with what he has urged in his defence, is of opinion that he is guilty of both the charges preferred against him, which being in breach of the Articles of War, it does sentence him, Lieutenant John Shipp, of his Majesty's 87th regiment, to be discharged his Majesty's service.
"Approved and confirmed,(Signed)"Edward Paget,"General, Commander-in-Chief."
Attached to the sentence was the following recommendation of the court:—
"The court having performed a painful but imperative duty, in finding the prisoner guilty, beg respectfully, though earnestly, to recommend him to the clemency of his excellency the commander-in-chief. In presuming to express a wish that mercy may be extended to the present case, the court are impressed with a hope that the gallantry so frequently displayed by the prisoner, the numerous wounds he has received, and the high and apparently merited character which he has hitherto borne, will appear to his excellency sufficient grounds for the court's thus warmly interesting themselves in the prisoner's fate, and urging with anxious solicitude the present recommendation."Before closing their proceedings, the court deem it a justice due to Lieutenant-Colonel Browne, to express their opinion that his conduct, as far as it has come before them, has been honourable to himself and indulgent towards the prisoner."
"The court having performed a painful but imperative duty, in finding the prisoner guilty, beg respectfully, though earnestly, to recommend him to the clemency of his excellency the commander-in-chief. In presuming to express a wish that mercy may be extended to the present case, the court are impressed with a hope that the gallantry so frequently displayed by the prisoner, the numerous wounds he has received, and the high and apparently merited character which he has hitherto borne, will appear to his excellency sufficient grounds for the court's thus warmly interesting themselves in the prisoner's fate, and urging with anxious solicitude the present recommendation.
"Before closing their proceedings, the court deem it a justice due to Lieutenant-Colonel Browne, to express their opinion that his conduct, as far as it has come before them, has been honourable to himself and indulgent towards the prisoner."
Remarks by the Commander-in-Chief.
"Lieutenant Shipp has thus, by his persevering resistance to the advice of his late most respected commanding-officer, of the general of his division, and of the commander-in-chief, brought upon himself the heavy penalty of the forfeiture of his commission. Although these are circumstances calculated greatly to aggravate the offences of this officer, still the commander-in-chief is willing to hope that, in yielding, as far as he feels it is consistent with his duty, to the earnest intercession of the court, he runs no risk of shaking the foundations of discipline and subordination. The sentence of the court is accordingly remitted; but as, under all the circumstances of the case, the commander-in-chief deems it quite impossible that Lieutenant Shipp should continue to do duty with the 87th regiment, he grants him leave of absence from it, and shall recommend that he be removed to the half-pay list."The foregoing orders to be entered in the General Order-Book, and read at the head of every regiment in his Majesty's service in India.
"Lieutenant Shipp has thus, by his persevering resistance to the advice of his late most respected commanding-officer, of the general of his division, and of the commander-in-chief, brought upon himself the heavy penalty of the forfeiture of his commission. Although these are circumstances calculated greatly to aggravate the offences of this officer, still the commander-in-chief is willing to hope that, in yielding, as far as he feels it is consistent with his duty, to the earnest intercession of the court, he runs no risk of shaking the foundations of discipline and subordination. The sentence of the court is accordingly remitted; but as, under all the circumstances of the case, the commander-in-chief deems it quite impossible that Lieutenant Shipp should continue to do duty with the 87th regiment, he grants him leave of absence from it, and shall recommend that he be removed to the half-pay list.
"The foregoing orders to be entered in the General Order-Book, and read at the head of every regiment in his Majesty's service in India.
"By order of his Excellency the Commander-in-Chief,(Signed)"Thomas M'Mahon,(A true copy.)"Colonel, Adjutant-General."
"J Bowes, Lieutenant and Adjutant,87th Regiment."
On the tenth day of the proceedings, Colonel Browne, being examined on oath, is questioned by the court:—
Question.—"How long have you known the prisoner, and what was your opinion of his character previous to the misunderstanding between you and him?"Answer.—"I have known the prisoner since the year 1816. He was in the light company with me for a considerable time, and distinguished himself highly at Hattrass. I always considered him, and indeed know him to be, up to the present moment, one of the best officers in his Majesty's service."[16]
Question.—"How long have you known the prisoner, and what was your opinion of his character previous to the misunderstanding between you and him?"
Answer.—"I have known the prisoner since the year 1816. He was in the light company with me for a considerable time, and distinguished himself highly at Hattrass. I always considered him, and indeed know him to be, up to the present moment, one of the best officers in his Majesty's service."[16]
FOOTNOTES:[16]A summary of the court-martial proceedings (which in the original covered 300 foolscap folios) is given in the first edition of Shipp's "Memoirs," but omitted from the edition of which the present volume is a reprint.—Ed.
[16]A summary of the court-martial proceedings (which in the original covered 300 foolscap folios) is given in the first edition of Shipp's "Memoirs," but omitted from the edition of which the present volume is a reprint.—Ed.
When an officer has been tried by an honourable military tribunal, composed of fifteen British officers, and the sentence of the court-martial has been sanctioned and approved by a most merciful and gracious sovereign, it were as fruitless, as it would be highly improper and presumptuous, for the sentenced individual to urge anything further in his defence. I, therefore, as a sincere admirer of my country's laws, bow most humbly to my fate; I love my country as truly as ever I did, and would as willingly as ever risk my life to support its laws and freedom.
During the trial, which lasted thirteen days, I was exceedingly harassed, and my feelings were worked up to a state bordering on frenzy. There was a host against me, and I had not a soul to advise me how to proceed. I stood alone and unaided, with a limited education, to rebut the whole mass of evidence adduced against me.
The time necessarily occupied in sending the proceedings of the court-martial to my native country, and the long period which elapsed before its return, were spent in the bosom of domestic bliss, where I found refuge from the storm. The contemplation of my recent fall would at times sink me in gloomy despair, and it was my wife only who could divert my mind from useless forebodings, and whisper in my ear sweet hopes of better days to come. I removed some miles from the regiment, as I could not bear the commiserating remarks ofthe soldiers as they passed me, which only served to plunge me deeper in the vortex of despondency. From these motives I was induced to remove from that station where my profession had been my pride and boast, to where I should not meet the pitying countenances of those brave fellows with whom I had often shared in glory, and where I could, unmolested and undisturbed, think of the future, and compose my feelings. On leaving the regiment, and passing by the houses of the officers, that hung on the rapid Ganges, my feelings can be better imagined than described. Need I be ashamed to confess that I felt the tear trickling down my cheek, and a weight at my heart that the utmost ingenuity of man cannot accurately describe. I could not help comparing my then forlorn situation with the day I looked back on the little white village spire out-topping the high poplars that reared their heads over the briar-woven grave of my mother, save that I had now one near and dear to me, and ever ready to share the cup of sorrow. Many of the men whom I had befriended and had got promoted, followed my boat on the banks of the river, wishing me every prosperity, till prudence bade them return to their lines. The feelings I experienced on this occasion are such as the tyrant soldier never knows, and never ought to know. These friendly greetings of the men gratified my pride, but only sunk my heart deeper in anguish. Scarcely were my feelings so composed as to reconcile me in some degree to my fate, when an event, the most dreadful and agonizing, and which of all others I was the least prepared for, happened to her on whom I had built my most felicitous hopes, when more halcyon days should visit our humble cot. I could have borne poverty with a smile of contentment; but this blow was vital, and at once dashed the flattering cup of hope from my lips. During my long and harassing trial, such was the anxiety of my wife, that a premature birth of a boy was the consequence. This had nearly deprived me of her who was my best friend andguide; but, by dint of great care and good nursing, she recovered, and was at this moment in all the health and beauty of twenty-two, and expected shortly to present me with another pledge of mutual love. A strange coincidence brought her good mother, brother, and sister to the station, neither of whom we could have expected, and we all waited the happy issue of this event. I cannot relate our preliminary proceedings and great anxiety. Suffice it that, on the following morning, having given birth, after twelve hours' protracted labour, to a beautiful boy, she was a corpse, having that morning completed her two-and-twentieth year. All my former misfortunes now rushed upon my distracted mind with tenfold force, and this last blow seemed to bereave me of all that on earth I could love; and my poor child, kissing the cold lips of his dead mother, and pathetically beseeching her to get up and speak to him, roused me to a full sense of my utter misery and woe. Neither his uncle nor his aunt could drag him from embracing the corpse of his dear mother; his cries were dreadful; and it was imagined, for some time after, that the dear boy's intellect had received a shock that was likely to prove lasting. He frequently wept bitterly, and would affectionately hug and kiss, a thousand times, any little thing that had been his mother's, preserving most carefully even little pieces of rag or paper that he knew had been hers. My poor mother-in-law scarcely ever spoke for the long period of six months, after this dreadful shock, but lay in a melancholy state of insensibility, not knowing even her little grandson, who would linger over her sick-bed for whole days together.
At this very crisis of my life the court-martial was communicated to me as having been confirmed in England, and I was directed to proceed to the Presidency of Fort William, preparatory to being sent home, to be placed on the half-pay.
This final sentence was communicated to me through the regiment, some few days after my wife's death, who was, therefore, spared this last pang. When the letter was delivered to me, I was sitting on a couch with my two motherless babes, one four years old, the other but a few days. On tracing the contents of the letter, when my eager eyes met the words "Dismissed the service," I could not repress the tear of anguish, nor refrain from indulging in the most unavailing grief. To wind up a military career like mine in this manner, was distressing indeed!
From the age of nine to forty-one, I had now been in the army—a period of thirty-two years. My services during that time are already before the reader. In the course of those services, I had received six matchlock-ball wounds:—
One through the forehead, just above my eyes, which has so impaired my sight, that I have been obliged to use glasses for some years past.
Two on the top of my head, from which have, at different times, been extracted sixteen pieces of bone. These two wounds, at every change of the weather, cause a most excruciating headache.
One in the fleshy part of the right arm.
One through the forefinger of my left hand. Of this finger I have entirely lost the use, and I am still obliged to nurse it with great care, several pieces of bone having been extracted from it, and some splinters, as I fear, being still remaining.
One in the fleshy part of the right leg.
I had also received a flesh wound in my left shoulder, with several other slighter wounds not worth particularizing.
The above wounds, except one, having been received prior to the munificent grant of his present Majesty to wounded officers, I never received a farthing remuneration, except ninety-six pounds for the last—a year's pay as ensign.
I confess, then, I had entertained a sanguine hope, that the extent and nature of my services, and the number of wounds I had received, would have more than outweighed the offence of which I had been convicted, and I felt the disappointmentmost acutely, and could not avoid giving vent to my agonized feelings. I was aroused by the endearing behaviour of my child, whose arms had, on his observing my grief, encircled my neck. "What's the matter, father? you are always crying now, since mother is gone away," said he. This was touching a tenderer chord than the babe imagined, for he still supposed that his dear mother was gone for a time only, and his constant inquiries were when she would return. We were found in this state of woe by Captain Thomas Marshall, of the Bengal army, my neighbour. This officer was my neighbour indeed; for his kindness, and that of his amiable wife, towards me, were unabated and unceasing. In the affectionate bosom of this lady my orphan babe found a foster-mother, who shared with her infant, three days older than mine, the one half of its best comfort. Towards this dear and affectionate couple my heart will ever cherish the fond remembrance of gratitude, and I hope this humble declaration may meet them in the far-distant clime in which they sojourn. When Captain Marshall saw the sentence, he turned from me, and walked into another room—for what purpose, I leave the sympathizing reader to guess. He soon returned to me, and said, "Come, Shipp, you have often mounted the breach of danger—cheer up—and recollect you have those dear babes to clothe and feed." Here my little boy, supposing that this was meant as a kind of rebuke, said, "I don't want anything to eat, Captain Marshall; therefore, don't cry." These are touches which the feeling heart can alone appreciate. To prevent, for the time, any further indulgence in sorrow, I was prevailed on to accompany my kind neighbour to his hospitable house, where I spent the day with him, and where a little musical party assembled in the evening, to rouse me from the state of despondency into which this last blow had plunged me. But all attempts to divert me from the recollections of my misfortunes were fruitless. Music and society but added to my pain; and I found that I was never, for a length of time,so composed as in those days and nights which I spent free from all company but that of my two motherless babes, with whom only I could, if I may so express myself, luxuriate in grief.
GHAUT ON THE GANGES.From a Drawing byW. Daniell, R.A.
In one month after the confirmed sentence of the court-martial had been made known to me, I was compelled to obey the orders which I had received to repair to Calcutta, previous to embarkation for England. To enable me to comply with these directions, I was obliged to sacrifice all my property for a mere nothing, and I set out for the Presidency with my little boy, now my only comfort, having made the little infant over to my brother-in-law, J.P. Mellaird, Esq., indigo-planter Tirhoot, where his grandmother, somewhat recovered, found refuge also.
The voyage down the lonely river Ganges was not calculated to soothe my sorrows or to cheer my prospects. I reached Calcutta in safety, and remained there a considerable time waiting for a ship, where, strange to say, I received an order to proceed home with invalids, and to place myself immediately under the command of Captain Mathers, of his Majesty's 59th regiment. This order I was bound to obey; but it prevented me from bringing home my little boy, as every part of the ship was taken up for the troops, and the captain of the vessel would not accommodate me under a thousand rupees—a sum which I had not to give. A smaller foreign ship would have brought both myself and child home for what the Company allow for officers sent home—fifteen hundred rupees. By this I was deprived of the satisfaction of bringing home my child, who remains in India with my brother-in-law to this day.
In the beginning of the month of April, 1825, I embarked on board the free-trader,Euphrates, Captain Mead commanding, with an insufficient crew, as they did not exceed twenty-three hands in all, and winter was before us for the whole voyage. This would not have been a very pleasant prospect to theshattered nerves of an old Indian; but mine, although I had been so many years in that hot country, did not come under that description, and I had learnt long since to endure hardships. I was never much addicted to look on the dark side of things, but now it was impossible to refrain from thinking of the situation in which I stood. I was proceeding to a country, and that country my native home; but it was not endeared to me by a solitary relative that I knew of. I could not help comparing the close of my military career with its commencement. I was then friendless and isolated; and who had I now but those who mourned my departure from a land which I was compelled to quit for ever? I left England, when a child, without one friend or relative to bid me adieu, and I was now returning to it without one to bid me welcome! Yet there is something pleasing to every British bosom, in the anticipation of returning to the land of one's birth; and, although my prospects were anything but bright, I felt, notwithstanding, that I could be content to live in my native country, even in poverty. But the necessity which compelled me to leave behind me my two sweet babes distressed me exceedingly, and my eye seemed riveted on the arid sand along the banks of the river that had some few days before borne my boy from my sight. On the spot on which we parted I gazed with indescribable sensations, and I found that the more I gazed the dearer it grew in my estimation. There are few who have not experienced delight in revisiting, after many years' absence, the scenes of their childhood. When I returned to my native land from India, in the year 1807, after an absence of twelve years, I was proceeding home to visit my family; but when I reached Colchester (the place, as the reader will probably recollect, where I commenced "soldiering"), all the gambols and tricks I had played there when a boy, rushed upon my mind, and the place seemed endeared to me by a thousand recollections. Such was my wish to re-explore this place, that I forfeited my coach-hire for the rest of thejourney, and stopped there that night. Early on the following morning I sauntered along to the lanes that stood in the vicinity of the barracks, and, on coming to a certain lane that ran behind them, where we went every day to practice, I found my name still on a stile. This had been cut by me when I frequented the place as a little fifer, twelve years before. Such were my feelings on this simple occasion, that I could scarcely restrain a tear, and I sat on the stile for an hour, looking on my own name a hundred times over. It will not, therefore, be wondered at, if the eye of a fond father should fondly linger on the spot where he took leave of, and last saw his motherless babe.
The scene before me in the vessel soon diverted me from the contemplation of all other subjects. I could have brooded over the fate of my dear little ones the whole night; but the din and tumult of more than two hundred soldiers, with their friends from shore, all rioting in the cup of inebriety, tumbling over each other, blaspheming, fighting, singing, fifing, and fiddling, and all huddled together in a confined space, with their beds, bedding, parrots, minors, and other birds, roused me to a lively sense of the scene before me.
On the following morning we bade farewell to Fort William, under whose proud battlements we had been lying. The wind was serene and fair, and the wave had scarcely a ripple on its silvery surface. Would that my bosom had been equally composed and tranquil; but my heart sickened within me when I felt the beautiful ship smoothly gliding down the rapid stream, and bearing me from that country and that service in which I had spent the prime of my life, and, I may say, the happiest of my days. The rapid Ganges soon bore me from the sight of the English flag, and I dropped a tear to the recollection of the many happy days I had spent at Fort William.
I soon found that I had a queer set to deal with, without the means of checking any indiscretion that drunkennessmight drive them to commit. The captain commanding the detachment was in a dying state, and indeed did die on his passage home; consequently, all the trouble, anxiety, and care, fell upon me. I can venture to assert that, with the exception of about twenty men, a more disorderly and mutinous set than the fellows I had now under my charge, never disgraced the garb of soldiers.
An Eastern voyage, either home or out, is dull and monotonous enough, even with an agreeable party. Passengers we had none, save one lady and her little girl, her sick husband, the captain of the detachment, then lingering on the brink of the grave, and a young officer of the Company's Bengal Artillery, who survived but a few days the tossing of the ship, and was committed to a watery grave, ere the bloom of boyhood had left his cheek. We had one doctor on board, and a young officer of the Company's service, in charge of the Company's troops. Of the misery of the passage the reader may have some idea, when he is informed that we had upwards of two hundred men on board, some without legs, others without arms, and twenty of whom had been removed from hospital only a week or ten days before we sailed. Every man had a box or trunk, bed and bedding, with parrots, minors, and cockatoos, and all these poor creatures, with four women and four children, were huddled on one small deck, every one that could move endeavouring to seize the more secure spot, and tumbling over and treading on those who were unable, either from sickness or drunkenness, to move or assist themselves. The smell and heat below were beyond description. Added to all this, the men were, during the whole voyage, in a state of continual drunkenness, having means of procuring liquor privately, by some device which I never could discover. All my exertions were insufficient to check them in this practice, or indeed to keep them in any kind of order, from want of the usual means of enforcing obedience, there being neither a place of confinement, nor handcuffs, nor any othermeans of securing the ringleaders, in the ship. Nothing but the greatest personal risk on my part, and that of the Company's officer, Lieutenant Rock, prevented open mutiny among the troops; and I consider it a mercy that we were not both thrown overboard, which was more than once threatened.
Some of the more refractory among the soldiers soon discovered that my means to enforce obedience were limited; in consequence of which three-fourths of them set my orders at defiance, refusing in the most peremptory manner to obey me, even to clearing away their own filth and dirt; and I was ultimately obliged, rather than provoke that spirit of rebellion which I could evidently see only wanted some pretext to show itself, to pay a set of men daily, as a working party, to clear the deck, and keep off disease, so often occasioned on shipboard from a want of cleanliness. This I did by allowing those men two extra drams per day for their labour.
After a voyage of six months, spent in constant riot and anxiety, and the misery of the whole increased by scurvy, which prevailed on board, and the number of deaths which occurred during the passage, we at length reached our native land in safety, having, in the course of the voyage, thrown overboard the captain of the detachment, a lieutenant, who was a passenger, thirty-eight soldiers, and one child, all of whom had died in that short space of time. Most of the men fell victims to their intemperance in drink.
We reached England in the month of October, landed at Gravesend, and, on the following day, marched to the depôt at Chatham, where the detachment was drawn up on parade, and I left them in charge of the staff-officer of Fort Pitt Barrack.
The parade on which I then stood finished my military career of upwards of thirty years—five-and-twenty of which I had spent on the burning soil of India. I had but little cause to feel regret in resigning my command over the turbulentand drunken set whom I now was about to quit; but, situated as I was myself, I could not even leave those poor creatures without a tear; and, when I reflected that I was no longer a soldier, I felt a weight at my heart that sunk me almost to the earth.
The public are now in possession of a faithful account of the vicissitudes which have marked the career of one who, in misfortune, can pride himself on having performed his duty to his country, loyally, faithfully, and, he trusts, bravely.
From my military readers I feel it impossible to part without a few valedictory words. Brothers in arms, farewell! May the bright star from heaven shine on your efforts, and may you be crowned with glory! May the banner of Albion be hoisted in victory wherever it goes! As long as my mortal sight will guide me along the annals of war, I will exult and triumph in your successes, and drop a tear of pity for those that fall. Comrades, farewell!
The military career, traced in the preceding pages, has probably never been surpassed either in homely, affecting narrative, or in thrilling scenes of war and strife, by that of any soldier of modern times. That Shipp did not rise more rapidly to the dizzy heights of a hero's ambition, in a much shorter time, may reasonably be attributed to the age in which he served, as well as to the peculiar regulations of our service, than to any deficiency of fitness, ability, courage, or even notoriety on his part. In the English army, all the avenues to preferment are generally so crowded by aspirants of merit and influence, and so jealously guarded by the legislature, that the best and most valuable soldiers—men whose services acquire a very early distinction—scarcely ever rise from the ranks to the elevation which Shipp twice attained by his gallantry and soldiership. And it was the consciousness of this fact, and the marked departure from the rigid rules of the service, in the instance of his individual promotion, that rendered him so resigned and submissive, under the heavy blow which his own temerity subsequently inflicted upon him. Had his destiny enabled him to steer past the siren pleasures that too often interrupt the path of men possessing power, distinction, and popularity, it is more thanprobable that, instead of being permitted to retire without any public brand of disgrace upon his brow, into the obscurity of a private station, he would have attained the highest rank in the British army, and have been conspicuous, like Collingwood, not only for winning victories more gloriously, but for describing them to his countrymen more perspicuously than any military man of the age he lived in. It is not in this little autobiography, written in so terse, agreeable, and piquant a manner, that the brilliant exploits of Shipp would have been sought for: the brightness of that page of history which recorded them, would alone have secured the publicity of his renown. Few ever possessed, more eminently, all the elements essential to success as a soldier. Unimpeachable bravery, unwavering perseverance, cool fortitude, and determined steadiness of purpose, were amongst the most conspicuous of his attributes; and to these we may add an inexhaustible energy of mind. Endowments of this nature are not often combined with clearness of judgment, or with that discretion which cautiously avoids the precipice. But if Shipp had not always his judgment entirely at command—which frequently results from a habit of decision and promptitude, mistaken by many for impetuosity—he was always fertile in resources, quick in expedients, and any errors arising from his first impulses were amply amended by the energy and skill with which he ultimately fulfilled every tittle of the duty intrusted to him.
When John Shipp stood upon the parade at Chatham, in the October of 1825, he was, as he has himself informed us, performing the last of his military duties. We have already seen with what feelings he bade adieu to "the plumed troop and the big war"—to the profession which had been the choice of his childhood and the pride of his riper years—amid which he had grown and flourished; and, when he had resigned his command to the officer of Fort Pitt Barrack, he wandered forth into the world a melancholy man, because no longer asoldier. His military career was thus finished, as he truly foreboded, for ever. That eventful and not inglorious campaign of his existence, of which he has given so vivid an account, was at an end, and he was now alone in the world, destitute of occupation, and without immediate aim or object. Hitherto, his life had been a romance, the various vicissitudes whereof forcibly verify the adage, that "truth is stranger than fiction." Though the reader will have henceforth to regard him as a mere civilian, his movements confined to his native island, where stirring incidents and dashing adventures are not rife, yet the details of his remaining years are not entirely destitute of interest and instruction.
Although the first and natural feeling of the gallant ex-lieutenant, at the contemplation of his position, was one of deep despondency, yet the manliness of his nature forbid a tame submission to vain and bootless melancholy. He had before risen superior to the oppression of that gloomy goddess. His energies soon rallied, and the innate fortitude of his character came to his aid. He was furnished with excellent credentials from those officers with whom he had served; and, having taken up his residence in the metropolis, he set himself sedulously to work to procure employment. At first he was elated with hope, from the numerous promises which he received, and the kindness and urbanity with which his pretensions were entertained. He soon found, however, that there was a difference between professions and practice—between hospitality and active benevolence.
Amongst the first applications which he made, was one to the Court of Directors of the East India Company, setting forth his services in India, the wounds which he had received, and his other claims on their favourable consideration. This application was successful; for, though the Directors were unable to confer on him any appointment, they generously granted him a pension of fifty pounds a year, for life, commencing from the preceding Christmas. This honourableallowance was sufficient to keep him above actual want; but, with the habits which he had imbibed in a land where extravagance and luxury are almost regarded as virtues, it was insufficient to keep him out of difficulties. He was himself well aware, and willing to allow on all occasions, that his chief failing was improvidence. Nor was he really extravagant; but he possessed little knowledge of the value of money, and was as prodigal of that essential commodity as if his supplies had been unlimited. His generosity was so unbounded, that he has often been known to recompense moderate services with a liberality wholly beyond his rank or means. The resources derived from the India House soon failing, he renewed his exertions to obtain employment, but still without success. Remembering that the story of his life was full of interest, and having determined upon telling it to the public, he turned himself with great perseverance to his new occupation, and in a short time became fired with all the ambition of an expectant author. As he was, however, naturally doubtful of his own powers, he submitted his manuscripts to the revision of a gentleman every way well qualified for the task, and who performed it with equal judgment, good taste, and ability. This sanguine temperament now led him to indulge in many a golden dream of the profits of authorship; an error that occasioned more profuse expenditure than he would, even with his acknowledged lack of worldly prudence, have deemed excusable.
It was while he was under the delusion of this phantom—the expectation of competent means from literary labours solely—that he thought of submitting a second time to the bonds of Hymen; and the interesting and amiable object of his affections has shown sufficiently the wisdom of his choice, by her exemplary conduct and virtuous life, when placed in circumstances painful, difficult, and trying. The only available means of support under the increased expenditure that attended his married state, was his pension from the India House—hischief prospective supply, the result of his publications. As an author he displayed invention and quickness; and the rapidity with which his works of fiction appeared, was not less extraordinary than the imagination which they displayed. In 1826 he published "The Shepherdess of Arranville; or, Father and Daughter;" a pathetic tale in three acts; and, in 1829, "The Maniac of the Pyrenees; or, the Heroic Soldier's Wife;" a melodrama in two acts, printed at Brentford. The success of these light works, however, was inferior to that of his Memoirs, which soon became extensively popular, and have continued to gather favour with each added year. This reputation resulted, not more from the exciting nature of the details, than the freshness, rapidity, and air of candour, that pervades the whole. Shipp certainly derived advantage from the advice and assistance of an experienced and talented literary friend; but the vigour, playfulness, and peculiarity of style which characterize all his writings, were not infused by the pen of the ripe and ready writer—they were original qualities of the composition. Encouraged by the reception of his Memoirs, and urged by pinching poverty to constant efforts for the improvement of his circumstances, he took advantage of his literary popularity, and sent into the world his "Military Bijou," and a pamphlet on military flogging. The latter, dedicated to Sir Francis Burdett, produced a decided sensation, and was so much approved of by the patriotic senator with whose name it was associated, that he generously presented the author with a cheque for sixty pounds. Such precarious supplies, however, could afford no permanent ease to a mind so energetic, so unbroken by reverses, so incapable of yielding to any untoward pressure of Providence: he applied himself, therefore, resolutely to the obtainment of an employment attended with a certain income, without regard to the amount of compensation, degree of humility, or difficulty of position. Confident of his powers, physical and intellectual; relying on the education derived from boundless experience of men and manners, and being a perfect master of the art of discipline, he very naturally concluded that his qualifications for the situation of a metropolitan police officer were unequalled. He had calculated rightly. Without a moment's hesitation—in fact accompanied by an expression of regret that no more lucrative or suitable appointment was vacant—the office of Inspector was stated to be at his service, and to await his acceptance.
Entering with alacrity on the duties of his new appointment, he had the good fortune to be introduced, by Colonel Rowan, to Lieutenant W. Parlour, at that time superintendent of the Stepney division. This employment was not only particularly agreeable to Mr. Shipp, from the military rank of his superior in command, but laid the foundation of a steady friendship, which terminated only with his death. Mr. Shipp's talents and qualifications could not remain long unnoticed by the commissioners; indeed, they had evinced their perfect knowledge of both, and their desire to protect, encourage, and promote him, from the first moment of his presenting himself, by their placing him under the command of Lieutenant Parlour. A few months after Shipp's appointment, Lieutenant Parlour was made superintendent of the Liverpool constabulary force; and, on taking leave of his friend, assured him of his sincere determination to assist in restoring him to a situation of independence and respectful consideration. An opportunity soon presented itself. A superintendent for the night watch at Liverpool being required, Parlour sent an early communication to his friend Shipp, explaining all the advantages, the amount of salary (£200 per annum), and the respectable character of the employment; urging him to strain every nerve, turn every stone, ply every engine, to obtain the vacant place. The very conspicuous merits of Shipp soon distanced his numerous competitors, and procured for him the object of his ambition.
As superintendent of the night watch at Liverpool, Mr.Shipp proved himself a capable and efficient officer. By his intelligence, attention, excellent management, and gentlemanly manners, he gained the confidence and esteem, not only of the authorities, but of many individuals of wealth and consideration in that opulent community.
We have alluded to the fondness for scribbling which had been evinced by Mr. Shipp, from the period when he undertook the task of writing his Memoirs. This propensity, so far from diminishing, seemed to gather strength, till at length it became one of his favourite occupations. On his first settlement in Liverpool, he contributed gratuitously, to several of the local papers, tales illustrative of the manners of the Hindoos. Shortly afterwards he published a rather ponderous volume, entitled "The Eastern Story Teller:" but it is somewhat remarkable that the real events of his own life surpassed in interest those which were the offspring of his imagination.
His propensity for literary composition never interfered with his responsible duties as an officer. Accustomed to command, and possessing, from long experience, a thorough knowledge of character, he had the force under his control in a state of admirable order and discipline. Nor were there wanting several occasions for the display of that natural intrepidity which was so striking a concomitant of his character. Though he had command of a civil force, a military disposition was not unfrequently required.
It was his duty to "set the watch" at a particular hour each evening—the time, of course, varying according to the season. After this it was his habit to take his round in the night, at some hour casually selected, in order to keep the men alert and vigilant. He resided in a district of the town called Toxteth Park, which was at that period infested by gangs of ruffians known by the designation of Park Bangers. Prior to the passing of the Municipal Act, Liverpool was not protected by the efficient day and night police that has since beenestablished; and gangs of lawless individuals were in the habit of attacking pedestrians, male and female, sometimes for wanton mischief, and not unfrequently with the view of obtaining plunder. One winter's morning, Mr. Shipp, having performed a portion of his round, was returning home with the intention of taking a few hours' sleep, and then resuming his duty: as he was passing along one of the streets of the Park, his attention was attracted by a violent whirling of rattles, amid which he heard the shrieks of a female. He rushed forward in the direction of the sounds, and, on turning into a retired and respectable suburban street, saw two of his men fleeing with all the speed that their heavy habiliments would permit, before four fellows who brandished heavy bludgeons. A little further on lay a watchman, apparently insensible, while a couple of ruffians were kneeling over a prostrate figure on the footwalk. Leaning against the rails for support was a lady, whose shrieks had now subsided into heart-breaking sobs. Shipp saw in one instant how matters stood, and he hesitated not for a moment what course to take. Passing the fugitives and their pursuers, he rushed up to the fellows who were rifling the man on the footwalk, and, with the heavy stick which he always carried during his nocturnal perambulations, laid them both prostrate beside their victim. The remainder of the gang seeing this, turned from the pursuit of the watchmen, and rushed upon him; but, calling to the fugitives, he contrived to dart through his assailants, without receiving any injury save a contusion on the left shoulder. Another watchman who had heard the rattles, at this moment came; the two who were running off, hearing their superintendent's voice, had returned, and all four now faced the gang, who, however, fearing that the odds would soon be against them, fled, leaving one of their number a prisoner in the grasp of Mr. Shipp, in addition to the two whom he had prostrated, and who were then slowly recovering. The victim of plunder had already recovered his legs.Mr. Shipp now learned that he was a respectable tradesman of the town, who was returning home from a Christmas festivity with his wife, when he was assailed by a gang of thieves, who, finding that he resisted stoutly, struck him to the ground. The cries of the lady brought the watchmen, one after another, to the spot. The first was knocked down, and the two others, after receiving a few blows, were running off in search of more assistance, when their superintendent arrived in time to prevent the villains from effecting their object.
Mr. Shipp was one evening taking a glass of wine with a few friends at the King's Arms, one of the principal inns in Liverpool, when suddenly a strange tumult was heard in the house, and sounds of feet passing rapidly along the floors. At first the party took no notice of the matter; but, a still more strange and unusual sound reaching their ears, they gazed at each other in silence and amazement. Suspense to Shipp being always intolerable, he rose at once, and, followed by his companions, rushed into the passage, which was a spacious apartment. Here they were met by vociferations of "Go back! go back! Mr. Shipp, and shut your door." The advice was instantly followed by every one, save Shipp alone, who, with that firm nerve that enabled him to face death in various shapes, remained outside, where a melancholy spectacle met his eyes. In the middle of the hall, just opposite the large window of the bar, where a crowd of servants had taken refuge, and from whence they called loudly for help, stood a grey-headed man, apparently about fifty years of age, who, from his dress, appeared to be a helper in the stable. In his right hand he grasped a carving-knife; and, while his face appeared convulsed with the fury of a maniac, he uttered the most fearful, though incoherent denunciations of vengeance, against any one who should approach him. At this instant a young woman belonging to the establishment came tripping down the stairs, whom the maniac perceiving, he repeated thesame fearful cry which had so startled the company in the parlour, and, raising the knife, rushed at her. Shipp bounded after him like the lion from his lair, seized his uplifted arm, and, jamming the madman against the stairs with his knees, wrenched the weapon from his grasp. The terrified waiter now stepped forward, and assisted in securing the lunatic, who was immediately conveyed to Bridewell, and from thence to a proper asylum. He was an old servant of the establishment, who had on several occasions exhibited symptoms of mental derangement, which ultimately became confirmed by habits of intemperance. At length, on the evening in question, his malady had broken out into decided madness.
Shipp used himself to relate an incident, which has so much the character of romance, that it must not be omitted. He was seated one afternoon in an alcove on the green of the hotel at Birkenhead, when, in the adjoining recess, he overheard a deep masculine voice urging some tender proposal to a female: and he was about to depart, when he was struck by the extremely tremulous tones in which the girl refused compliance. "I cannot consent to go," said she; "it would not be proper."—"Well, but," replied the man, "I tell you your brother Tom is to go with us; he has consented to the whole arrangement; the sloop is in the river now, and we sail with the morning tide at five o'clock. We're all ready. Tom'll go on board this night; and, as he is fully expecting you, it will look foolish not to go. We can be married at Guernsey immediately, you know; and I shall have such a nice cottage for you; and we shall be as happy as possible."—"And why cannot I go on board when Tom does?" asked the girl. "Why, you know, dear," replied the man, with some hesitation, "the agents might board us this evening; and I should not like them to see us with a woman in the sloop. But come—I know you are not comfortable with that old aunt of yours; so just steal out of the house, and be on the watch for us at the slip, at half-past one. I shall have theboat waiting at one, close to the slip at George's Pier; the tide will be running in; I will pull over, and take you on board in a jiffy; and then away we go for beautiful Guernsey." A few more low sounds of tender entreaty followed, and then the girl seemed to yield a reluctant consent. The man, observing that she was faint, proposed that she should walk on the green and take the air. Shipp had then an opportunity of observing the pair. The girl was a pretty, graceful, innocent-looking creature, about twenty-two years of age. The man was a tall, swarthy, good-looking fellow, apparently a master in the merchant service. Shipp at once recognized him as an individual who had been, a few weeks before, convicted before the magistrates of Liverpool for smuggling, and heavily fined. By representation to the board, the fine had been considerably mitigated.
Shortly afterward, as Shipp was passing along the pier to the packet, he again passed the lovers, who were just separating. "Remember half-past one," said the man.—"I will," replied the girl, firmly; "tell brother Tom I shall scold him when I come on board, for not coming over to see me." The packet was moving from the pier, and the man stepped on board at the same moment as Mr. Shipp. The former was almost immediately accosted with great warmth by an individual, who pressed forward to meet him. The two shook hands familiarly, the friend exclaiming, "Ah! Captain, how are you? I haven't seen you this age. How's your wife?—is she in Liverpool?"—"No," replied the other, "I left her at home in Whitehaven three weeks ago, quite well and happy, thank you."—"And who is that pretty girl whom you've just parted with? I'll tell your wife, you rogue, the next time I see her. She ought to be jealous of you."—"Oh," replied the captain, "she is sister to a new acquaintance of mine; I've just been bidding her good-bye, as we sail to-morrow morning."
Shipp now became interested in the event, as he was convinced that some plot had been contrived, which would, in all probability, be fatal to the happiness of an innocent girl. When the passengers landed, he followed close to the man of whose proceedings he had become so strangely cognizant. As if fate had determined to let him into the whole secret, scarcely had the smuggler parted from the friend whom he had met in the packet, when he encountered a young man whom he addressed by the familiar appellation of Tom. "I've just left your sister," said he; "she's quite well—sends her love to you, and all that sort of thing, and wonders you have not been to see her. I told her you were going to Birmingham:—by the way, when do you start?"—"At five o'clock; but I wanted to see you before I went—how lucky I met you!"
Shipp heard no more, for he stood pondering on all that had passed under his notice, irresolute how to act. His first thought was to return immediately to Cheshire, and inform the young woman of the precipice on which she stood. A moment's reflection convinced him of the impracticability of this attempt, for he knew not her name or residence. His next impulse was to follow the brother, and inform him of the snare which had been laid for his sister. He turned, and followed in the direction which the pair had taken, but he was unable to find them. His next resolve, though not perhaps the most prudent that could have been adopted, was exceedingly accordant with his character and disposition.
It was his habit, when going his nightly rounds, to wear a rough overcoat of coarse blue cloth, and a broad-brimmed varnished hat, similar to those frequently worn by boatmen. Dressed in this guise, a few minutes before one o'clock, in the morning succeeding the afternoon just adverted to, he walked along George's Pier. The night was moonless, but not dark. The river was almost unruffled, though the faint light cast by the stars into the atmosphere was reflected in long lines upon the slight swell of the incoming tide. As he approached the steps, he discerned a boat in which four men were seated.His quick eye discovered that, as he had hoped, it was not a ship's boat, but one of the regular river craft. He began to descend the steps, when one of the boatmen exclaimed, "Is that you, Captain?"—"No," replied Shipp, coolly stepping into the boat, and seating himself in her bows, "but he'll be here immediately." The men, thinking he had been sent by the person who had employed them, made no remark. Presently footsteps were heard passing rapidly along the pier; the Captain, as the men called him, descended the steps, sprung into the boat, and, not observing Shipp, or, if he did so, thinking, from his position and appearance, that he was one of the regular crew, ordered the men to "push off, and pull away with a will." The men pulled with lusty sinews, and, in about half an hour, laid the boat alongside the pier at Birkenhead. "Holla!" exclaimed one of the boatmen, as their employer lifted a female into the boat, "is it a woman, Captain? this ought to be double pay, at least."—"Hold your tongue, man," replied the Captain, "and pull away for the sloop: I'll steer, for I know where she lies." The men again tugged hard at the oars, being as anxious as their employer to finish their job. Though the tide was now against them, another half hour of labour brought the boat alongside a small but handsome vessel, which was riding at anchor in the stream. "Hold fast, men," said the Captain, springing up the side of the sloop and gaining her deck; "stand by to help the lady, and then come on board and take a glass of grog, and be paid."—"Ay, ay, sir," was the ready response. It was now Shipp's turn to act. Stepping quickly to the stern of the boat he exclaimed loudly, "Let go, men, and pull ashore this instant. Young woman, you are deceived: this man is married: he has a wife at Whitehaven, and your brother is not on board his sloop."—"And who are you, Sir," exclaimed the master of the sloop, "that dare to interfere in my affairs?" "I am one of the police-officers of Liverpool," replied Shipp, "and I take this lady under my protection."—"If she choosesto come into my vessel," said the master, in a voice hoarse with passion, "I presume your interference is cursed impertinent and uncalled for. You wish to come on board, Mary, don't you?"—"Not if this be true," sobbed the girl; "if you are not deceiving me, call brother Tom; you said he would be here."—"I tell you," said Shipp, "your brother has gone to Birmingham, and you were on the point of being ruined. Let go, men, or it will be worse for you!" Hearing this, the boat-hook was instantly loosed, and the tide swept the boat from the sloop's side in a moment. "And are we to lose our money?" said one of the boatmen, as he reluctantly put out his oar; "we were to have had thirty shillings for this job."—"I will pay you," said Shipp. "Huzza!" exclaimed the boatmen, "pull away, my hearties!" As they rowed to the pier, Shipp related to the girl all that he had witnessed and overheard on the preceding day. "God bless you, Sir!" said she; "from what misery you have saved me!" On the following day the girl returned to her aunt, and, shortly afterwards, her brother called upon Shipp, and thanked him fervently for the great service he had rendered.
In the month of May, 1833, the office of governor of the workhouse at Liverpool became vacant by the death of Mr. Hardman, who had for many years filled that situation. The special vestry, after mature deliberation, decided upon recommending Mr. Hewett, master of St. Andrew's, Holborn, London. The recommendation was, that Mr. Hewett and his wife should be governor and matron, at the joint salary of £300 per annum. As the situation was a very desirable one—a handsome residence, with all the necessaries, comforts, and even luxuries of life being provided, in addition to the salary—a host of candidates (no less than thirty-seven) were quickly in the field. Amongst those who sought the office was Mr. Shipp; and, though he came rather late to the goal, he pursued the contest with his accustomed energy and perseverance.
On the 23rd of May, 1833, a special vestry was held for the purpose of nominating candidates and electing a person to fill the office. Mr. Hewett, who was backed by the most influential men of the select vestry, was nominated by two of the members of that body, amid many expressions of disapprobation. Other individuals were nominated by their respective friends; but they were but coldly received. At length Mr. Venables, a barrister of high standing and respectability, proposed John Shipp, with a glowing eulogium on his character and qualifications. The nomination was received with loud and reiterated cheers. Mr. Hall, also an eminent barrister, afterwards a magistrate at Bow Street, seconded the nomination. The show of hands being greatly in favour of Mr. and Mrs. Shipp, a poll was demanded on behalf of the other individuals nominated.
On the following morning, at ten o'clock, the polling commenced at the Sessions House, in Chapel Street. It was soon evident that Mr. Hewett, the candidate recommended by the select vestry, had not the slightest chance of success; and that gentleman accordingly resigned, an hour or two after the opening of the poll. A contest unparalleled in elections of this description followed between Mr. Shipp and Mr. Haram, who, with a certain class, was the favourite candidate, though the popular voice was for Mr. Shipp. The town was canvassed in every quarter, and placards covered the walls in all directions, as at a parliamentary election. At the close of the first day, Haram was upwards of 140 ahead of his opponent. On the second day, Shipp brought up his lee-way, and at the close of the poll on Monday he was upwards of 300 ahead. On Tuesday morning Haram resigned the contest; and thus the election terminated in favour of Mr. Shipp, whose majority was 352.
We now find Mr. Shipp in a position of comparative affluence, which unfortunately he did not live long to enjoy. He was installed in his new office of governor of the workhouse, atthe end of May, 1833. Soon after this he published a work called "The Private Soldier," a volume which did equal honour to his head and heart, and evinced his ardent love for that profession in which he had spent the best years of his life. He was still pressed by embarrassments, to the increase of which his literary speculations had in no slight degree contributed. The emoluments of his new situation, had he survived, would have enabled him to fulfil all his engagements, and make some provision for his family; but he enjoyed the comforts of the competency which had been bestowed upon him only a few months. In the February of 1834, he was suddenly seized with an attack of pleurisy, which terminated his existence after a few days of excruciating agony. He died on Thursday, the 27th of February, at the age of fifty-two, and was interred on the following Tuesday, in the chapel of St. Mary's cemetery. His funeral was attended by a vast number of his friends, as well as by all the inmates of the workhouse.
As Mr. Shipp had been greatly esteemed in Liverpool during his life, much sympathy was excited on behalf of his widow; and, as soon as it was known that her husband had died insolvent, a subscription was thought of for her relief. The gentleman who promoted, with the greatest zeal, the benevolent intentions of the public on behalf of the sorrowing widow, was Mr. William Parlour, whose name occurs in a former part of this Memoir. Through his instrumentality a meeting of Mr. Shipp's friends was called, at which it was resolved that a subscription should be opened; and in a few days £600 were collected. In addition to this liberal amount, a gentleman who held a bill of sale, including the chattel property of the deceased, made the widow a present of all the furniture which had reverted to him—a gift then valued at £200. This timely generosity—a tribute to the high character of her late husband, and to her own exemplary conduct—sustained the widow and her fatherless family, until that Providence, which never deserts the deserving, placed her in a situation less profitable, but not dissimilar to her former avocation.