A CANADIAN NEGRO V.C. By D. V. Warner.
Now that the war in South Africa is over, and our men have returned, Canada, as an integral portion of the Empire, has a just right to be proud of the noble manner in which her sons have borne their part in the conflict. They have not only one their duty on all occasions so as to win the admiration of prominent British generals, but four of their comparatively small number have so distinguished themselves as to be awarded for "conspicuous bravery" that most coveted of all decorations open to all classes of Britain's defenders, without regard to rank.      It will, no doubt, be interesting to many Canadians at this time, to those of us, especially, who have a more or less pronounced "race prejudice," to know that a negro native of this Dominion won the Victoria Cross during the Indian Mutiny, within a few years after the institution of the order; and for an act of bravery which was remarkable both for the number of lives which depended upon it, and for the coolness which characterized it throughout.      William Hall, the subject of this sketch, was born in Summerville, Hants Co., N.S., in 1832. His parents were extremely poor; and the boy, showing more independence than is usually found among young coloured men in this country, shipped before the mast in 1844, sailing in a small vessel from Hantsport, the nearest shipping port to his native village. The following six years were spent in the merchant marine of Nova Scotia. During this time Hall served in vessels of various rigs, and visited most of the well-known ports of the world, developing finally into a strong, active young man, and, for his years, a seamen of experience. For about eighteen months he served in the American Navy, then, once more, for a few months only, in a trading vessel.      The winter of 1852 found him in Liverpool, England, where on February 2nd, at the Recruiting Office in Red Cross Street, he enlisted in the British Navy as a seamen, and was appointed to the Rodney, Captain Graham, a vessel of 90 guns then lying in Portsmouth Harbour. With a number of other young naval recruits he proceeded to London, and thence to Portsmouth, where he and his fellow volunteers were under orders to report on board the receiving ship Victory. Nelson's famous flagship, after so many years of service in the front rank of Great Britain's "wooden walls," was still in use at that time, although in a somewhat humbler capacity.      For two years the Rodney was attached to the Channel Fleet; when, at the beginning of the trouble in the Biosphorus, which resulted in the disastrous Crimean war, she was ordered to the Mediterranean, and joined the fleet at Malta. During the long naval campaign which followed, Hall was present at the bombardment of Odessa, where as he himself expresses it, "we chastised the Russians for not recognizing the flag of truce," and later on at the siege and fall of Sebastopol.      At the conclusion of the Crimean war there many changes made in the crews of the vessels forming the war fleet. New men were drafted to fill the numerous vacancies, and the survivors were, in many cases, transferred to other vessels. Seamen Hall, who had gone through the whole campaign without a serious wound, was transferred to the frigate Shannon, which was then under orders to sail for Singapore, from which port she was to have the honour of conveying to Hong-Kong, Lord Elgin, ex-Governor-General of Canada, who had, on account of serious complications in China, been then recently appointed Plenipotentiary Extraordinary to that country. At Singapore the Shannon was gaily decorated with flags, and brought on board a salute of twenty-one guns was fired; and, as a special mark of honour to the representative of Her Majesty, all the yards were manned.      From Hong-Kong, the Shannon proceeded to Calcutta. The terrible Indian Mutiny had then broken out, and several British warships then cruising in Eastern waters were ordered to various ports in India. After lying for a short time at Calcutta, hurried orders were received by the captain of the Shannon to send as many men as could be spared overland to Lucknow.		Accordingly two hundred and fifty seamen and marines, including Hall, were selected from the ship's company, and ordered to co-operate with the relieving forces under Colonel, after Sir Henry, Havelock. Besides being well supplied with small arms, then men took eight of the ship's guns. The use of naval guns on land, which has been such an important feature of the war now happily over, was recognized at that time, although the effectiveness of the cannon was slight when compared to the frightful execution wrought by their successors to-day.      The march to the besieged city was, as we all know, long and accompanied with great loss of life. The naval guns were frequently found to be of great service. Each of them was operated by six men, numbered from one to six, beginning with the captain. If the officer in charge of a gun happened to be killed or wounded, man No. 2 took charge of the weapon, and so on. This arrangement prevented any confusion when a man was disabled, each man having a number and knowing what to do if his comrade holding the next lowest number was put out of action.      The Sepoys were continually hovering on the flanks of Colonel Havelock's men, and the Shannon's contingent suffered much from their annoying attacks. Each time, however, they succeeded in repelling the enemy with but slight loss, until one day, long to be remembered by the survivors.      As the British forces approached nearer to Lucknow the attacks of the Sepoys became more and more determined. On the day mentioned above the enemy fought desperately, and nearly succeeded in surrounding the British. The men of the Shannon, finding themselves hard pressed, endeavoured to gain a position nearby, where there was a ruined building surrounded by a high stone wall, their object being to use the building as a temporary fort and refuge for the exhausted men. In order to effect this they directed the fire of some of the guns against the walls. Breaches were finally made in the thick walls, through one of which the men, after heavy loss, dragged a gun, and from that point of vantage began to use it with effect to cover the retreat of their comrades.      This gun now occupied such a commanding position that the Sepoys, seeing the havoc it caused in their ranks, directed their fire to the spot so as to make it in a few minutes a very perilous situation. The men operating the weapon fell rapidly, and the officer in charge of the corps finally gave orders to abandon the piece.      Seamen Hall was then acting as "No. 2" at one of the other seven guns, but seeing the importance of the piece in the breach, he left his position and hurried across the intervening space to assist in working it. The two survivors of the original crew took courage when they saw help coming, and the officer in charge of the gun, Lieut. Salmon, shouted, "Ah, Hall! you're a man." Three more deserted their original positions, and the gun's crew was once more complete. Against the express orders of the commanding lieutenant, the gun continued its work of destruction for several minutes longer, until the Seypos drew off with heavy loss. Of the six heroes who saved the corps from annihilation but three were left alive. They were Lieut. Salmon, now prominent in our navy as Rear-Admiral Sir Nowell Salmon, K.C.B., and Seamen Robinson and Hall. Each man was recommended for and subsequently received the Victoria Cross.      After many years of faithful service in Her Majesty's navy, Hall was honourably discharged with a good pension, and after knocking about the world for a short time longer, finally settled on a small farm about four miles from the village of Hantsport, N.S., where he has lived quietly for the past twenty-four years.      Among the few heroes who have won this highest distinction which our sovereign bestows "for intrepid bravery in the face of the enemy" there are none who have merited the decoration better than our Canadian hero, none upon whose particular act of daring greater issues hung;		and, as I will proceed to illustrate, none who are more modest in speaking of the occasion when they won the honour.      The old veteran lives in a little farmhouse overlooking Minas Basin. the property is protected from heavy winds by a row of spruce trees bordering the road, so that only the upper windows can be seen when driving past. For a small farm it is well stocked with cattle and poultry, and there is a two-acre orchard of thrifty young trees adjoining the house. The proprietor of the place was busy sharpening a scythe when I called to see him one afternoon early in September last.      "It's rather late for haying, isn't it?" he observed, when I had taken the place of the small boy who was turning the stone, "but I just want to get a little salt hay off the marsh."      "By the way," I said, after a few turns of the stone, "haven't you been in the British navy?"      "Yes; I served a good many years in the navy," he replied; then, lifting the scythe from the stone, and carefully feeling the edge, "I think she'll cut that grass all right now, thank you; it doesn't require a very sharp scythe."      "Better sharpen the point a little more," I suggested; then, when the scythe had again been applied to the stone, "I hear you have the Victoria Cross," I said.      "Yes; I won the 'Cross' in India in '57, time of the Mutiny, you know."      In the course of the afternoon I obtained the account of the old sailor's life, which I have already given. He described minutely incidents which seemed to me to be of no particular importance, such as the reception in honour of Lord Elgin at Singapore. He had said very little about the march to Lucknow, not mentioning himself except as belonging to the Shannon's contingent, and was describing the character of the Sepoys, and the distressing scenes in the Residency during the relief, when I interrupted him with--"but I want to hear about the way you won the Cross; I've heard about the Relief of Lucknow."      "Oh!" he answered, with evident impatience, "that was way back on the march; I almost forgot about that."      After talking with him all afternoon I obtained from him the account which I have given. When he had brought his story down to the time when he was pensioned off, and settled down to a more peaceful occupation, near his old home, he surprised me by saying, "Thank you very much for taking note of me."      Of course I hastened to point out that the gratitude was all on my part, and then asked if I might see the Cross.      "See it, yes; come right in;" and we walked through the hall into a neatly furnished sitting-room, on the walls of which hung pictures of British war-vessels of fifty years ago. The old sailor stepped to the mantel, and taking down a small cardboard spool box, emptied the contents on the table. The blue ribbon from which the Cross was originally suspended is missing, having been "borrowed" by a relic-hunter several years ago; and it is now attached by wire to a heavy watch chain, and bears the date "16 Nov., 1857." There were three other commemorative medals in the collection, two of the Crimean war and one of the Indian Mutiny.      "It's nothing to have a Cross now; they're as thick as peas," the old man said.      "Do you know," I said, "that there are thousands of officers in the British army and navy who are longing to possess the medal that you have won; many of them, too, holding very high rank."      "Well," he answered slowly, "it isn't worth very much to a man after all, only ten pounds a year. If it wasn't for my regular navy pension of forty pounds a year besides I don't know how we'd get along here. The farm is small, and my two sisters live with me, you know."

 

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