A Salute Wasted — Was Old Negro Cook, Not the General

1900

The flag-ship Monongahela was anchored off the navy-yard at Pensacola Bay in 186—, and Admiral Farragut, who was then in command, was on board. He had been very busy the week before paying official calls on the mainland, and among those who had entertained him was General Canby. When, therefore, word was received that the general would visit the ship the next day, the admiral was determined to have everything ready to receive him in a style becoming his rank.

The old boat was scrubbed and holystoned from stem to stern, the bright work was given an extra rub, and things generally were put into the best of order. Captain Heywood, now brigadier-general commandant of the marine corps, had a special inspection of his company of marines, and not a spot of rust or a dull helmet spike escaped his notice. When night closed in, darkness settled down over a very clean ship and a very tired ship's company.

Bright and early the next morning the admiral's launch was sent off to bring the general aboard. At the last moment it was discovered that there was no fruit for luncheon, and Pompey, the admiral's cook, was sent in the dingy to get some.

Pompey was a character in his way, and had been with the admiral for many years. He was very proud of what he called his military bearing, and wore his beard carefully trimmed to a point. His hair and beard were nearly white, and although he was sixty years old, he ruled the other negroes with a rod of iron.

By ten o'clock every one was standing by in full dress, when the quartermaster came aft and reported that the admiral's launch was returning.

The officer of the deck walked to the rail and took a squint at the boat through his glasses. A man clad in a blue uniform was seated in the admiral's cane chair in the stern, but as the gunwale struck him just below the shoulder and the awning hid his head, the officer of the deck was not certain that it was General Canby until, as the wind lifted the edge of the awning, he caught a glimpse of a gray beard.

Word was passed that the general was coming off. The crew were beat to quarters, the marine guard paraded, and the gun squad, detailed to fire the salutes took their stations.

Everything was in readiness, and the admiral and his staff stood at the head of the gangway to receive the guest. A hush of expectancy settled over the ship.

The boat drew nearer. Just as the launch scraped alongside, boom! boom!! came the salute from the guns.

"Present arms!" came the command to the guard, and at a sign from the flag officer the band struck up "Hail to the Chief."

Amid all this military pomp and splendor the occupant of the launch was slowly clambering out, feet foremost, and just as the last gun was fired he stood erect at the top of the gangway.

Merciful heavens! It was Pompey, with a bag of fruit in each hand!

Confusion! The honors intended for a general had been rendered a negro cook! As the situation dawned on the men, even discipline could not check a general shout of laughter. The old admiral himself laughed until he could laugh no more.

It seemed that in some way the dingy had gone off and left the old negro, and that he had managed to convince the coxswain that "Marse Farragut was jes' bound to have dat fruit befo' the general came."

Pompey wanted to land at the port gangway, but the coxswain insisted that the admiral's launch never went to the port side, and that the old man would have to land on the starboard side, aft.

Had the awning been a little higher, the mistake in identification would not have occurred. As things were, no one could be blamed, and the affair was treated as a joke, while Pompey was nicknamed the "General."

When, an hour later, General Canby did come off, he was received with all due ceremony, and on being told the story, laughed till the tears rolled down his cheek; and demanded to see the man who had stolen his salute. — Youth's Companion.

Paul Jones's Flag, and Dewey's

1899

One of the remarkable features of the reception given to Admiral Dewey at Washington was the display of the flag which John Paul Jones, the first of American naval heroes, is said to have carried on the ship Ranger, when he set sail from the Delaware River to make a name for the infant American navy. This flag is now preserved in the National Museum at Washington.

There is evidence that it was indeed the flag which John Paul Jones flew on the Bon Homme Richard in the famous fight with the Seraphs off Flamborough Head. In that combat the flag was shot away and fell into the sea, whereupon Lieut. James Bayard Stafford jumped overboard, recovered the flag, carried it back to the Richard, and nailed it to the masthead.

It is believed by many, on the supposed authority of John Paul Jones himself, that this was the first American flag, of the pattern now employed, that was ever flown. In a letter of Jones's, which is quoted in his biography by Hamilton, the following passage occurs:

"America has been the country of my fond election from the age of thirteen, when I first saw it. I had the honor to hoist with my own hands the flag of freedom the first time it was displayed on the Delaware, and I have attended it with veneration ever since on the ocean."

This, however, seems to refer only to the first flying of the flag on the Delaware River. This particular flag is of English bunting, two and one-half yards long and a yard wide. It contains twelve stars, arranged in four horizontal lines of three stars each on a field of blue. There are thirteen stripes, alternately red and white.

The flag was made in Philadelphia by the Misses Mary and Sarah Austin, who worked, it is said, under the instruction of General Washington. It was presented to Capt. John Paul Jones, and immediately flown by him. This must have been as late as 1777.

A part of honor was assigned to this venerable flag in the reception to Admiral Dewey and the members of the crew of the Olympia. The space between its unfurling on the Delaware, with its twelve stars, and the triumphant bearing of the Olympia's flag, with its forty-five stars, into Manila Bay, was not a long one, as the history of nations goes, but it was a proud and honorable one.

The later hero of the American navy is no less worthy of honor, surely, than the earliest one, and Paul Jones's flag not only honored the Olympia's in the Washington procession, but was honored by it. — Youth's Companion.

The Wrong Coffin — His Mother-in-Law and The Admiral

1878

The Wrong Coffin

A gentleman, who had been spending the winter at a village between Perpignan and Toulon, France, started for Marseilles, having under his charge the remains of his wife's mother, who had expressed a desire to be buried in the family vault near the sea.

On arriving at Marseilles he went with the commissioner of police to receive the body from the railway officials, but noticed that the coffin was of a different shape and construction from that which he had brought from home. It turned out that the officials had sent on to Toulon the coffin containing his mother-in-law's body, believing that it held the remains of a deceased admiral, which were to be embarked for interment in Algeria, while the coffin awaiting delivery was the one which should have been sent on.

The mourner having requested the railway officials to communicate at once with Toulon by telegraph, proceeded thither himself with the coffin of the admiral, but the dispatch had arrived too late. He ascertained when he got there that the first coffin had been duly received, taken on board the State vessel which was waiting for it, and dispatched to Algeria.

He at once called upon the maritime prefect, and explained the circumstances of the case, but though a dispatch-boat was sent in pursuit, the other vessel was not overtaken.

Acting upon the principle that an admiral in hand is worth a mother-in-law in the bush, he declined to give up the remains then in his possession until the authorities should produce the other corpse. He consoled himself doubtless with the thought that full military and naval honors had been paid to his wife's mother, for the remains had gone out of harbor amid the thunder of fort and fleet. — New York Tribune.