Brave and gallant as had been the conduct of soldiers on board ship, whether acting as marines afloat or as landed parties, there are other instances of skill and courage equally well worth recording.

In 1852 the Birkenhead transport was on its way to India, with drafts of the 12th Lancers, and of the 2nd, 6th, 12th, 43rd, 45th, 60th, 73rd, 74th, and 91st Regiments, under the command of Colonel Seton, and, entering Simon’s Bay, struck on a sunken rock, and began to fill. She was ill provided with boats, for there was scarcely sufficient accommodation for the women and children, let alone the crew or the gallant representatives of the army, and the harbour swarmed with sharks. But the noble spirit of duty, that fearlessness of death and danger which all brave men have and which discipline intensifies, was never shown more grandly than in this moment of supreme peril. The men fell in on the upper deck as if on parade, and there they stood, bearing themselves as stoutly before that dread foe death, as ever they had or would have done before an earthly enemy, while the weeping, helpless, women and little ones were being saved. And standing there, while the officers shook hands and wished each other good-bye, the Birkenhead sank beneath their feet. Of 630 souls on board, only 194 were saved, and among them, Captain Wright of the 91st.

Similarly, in 1857, sheer coolness and discipline saved an entire ship. For the 54th were on their way to Mauritius, when the vessel caught fire. It was only through the exertions and steadiness of the men that the ship was saved at all, and then she reached her destination a mere burnt-out shell.

Nor was the case of the Birkenhead the only one in which the greatest of all bravery—facing death in cold blood—was evidenced by men of the 91st. In 1846, the reserve battalion was taking passage in the Abercrombie Robinson, when the vessel was wrecked near Cape Town. But the 500 men of the 91st assembled on deck as if on parade, and kept the grim silence of discipline until the women and children were safely in the boats.

Noteworthy is the discipline and patience of the gallant 78th, when the transport Charlotte, in which they had embarked, for transference from Batavia to Calcutta in 1816, ran ashore on a sunken rock a few miles from the island of Preparis, and that so violently, that in fifteen minutes she filled to her main deck. Though death was apparently imminent, the men behaved like the heroes and soldiers they were. Every man waited for orders, and there was no sign of panic or disobedience. The women, children, and sick were transported to the island, with a few bags of rice only, and a few pieces of salt pork. It was four days before the rest of the men and crew were landed on the inhospitable shores of Preparis, and during that time some 140 men were quartered on a raft fastened to a rock near the ship that was just aflush with water at low tide. There they had neither sleep, nor food, nor water. But the most perfect order obtained none the less. When they were all got on to the island, things were little better. They remained without relief from the 9th November until the 6th December, by which time even the poor two-day allowance of a glass of rice and two ounces of meat per head had been exhausted. Shell-fish were collected at low tide and stored. All such finds were brought to the common stock, and there was no need even for a guard! Officer and man shared the same privation until the final relief came, and throughout the discipline of the men was perfect.

But it is not merely in times of dangerous emergency that soldiers alone have shown that they are descended from those Vikings who were the true marines, equally good on shore or afloat. At the conclusion of the China war of 1860, the regiments engaged returned to England, and among them were the Buffs. Three companies of this grand old regiment, who, like the Royal Marines, claim their descent from London trained bands, and oftentimes had done seagoing duty, embarked on board the Athleta. All went well till after she had touched at the Cape to water. The crew was like many a merchant’s crew now, even if not much more so now than then, built up of indifferent materials, probably what is known as “Beachcombers,” men who in sterner days were marooned on desert islands. The gold fever in Australia, too, had set in, and hence caused desertions in homeward bound crews. So the crew of the Athleta tried to desert, and were prevented, and then came aft in a body to complain of imaginary ill-treatment, and request to be taken on shore before a magistrate. To have done so would have been fatal; and the commanding officer of the Buffs stepped in. He suggested that the captain should at once “weigh” and go to sea. The crew refused to move a finger in the matter. Colonel Sargent proposed, as a quiet and friendly way of settling the matter, to put the seamen in the fo’castle, with an armed guard for their protection, and bread and water for their food, while the Buffs worked the ship home. Captain Potter joyfully assented, and went to sea with his strange, untrained, crew. Volunteers were asked to go aloft, and the detachment was cautioned as to its dangers, and the supreme necessity for coolness and readiness of resource; and was told that to be ordered aloft was contrary to Queen’s regulations. None the less, sixty stalwart lads stepped forward, and of these, twenty-eight were chosen for the yards and “tops.” A week’s duty of this kind brought the mutineers to their senses; that and the bread and water probably. They prayed to be allowed to return to their duty, and did so. Colonel Sargent thought, and rightly, that “he had had pleasure in going aloft with them himself, because the boldest and most zealous of his men had never been in the rigging before, and some had not even been on board a ship of any kind previous to their voyage out and home.” Captain Potter thought and said that he “was perfectly astonished to see soldiers able to turn themselves all at once into such good sailors, and to teach so wholesome a lesson to his crew, not one of whom, he was convinced, would ever again strike work in a vessel on board of which British soldiers were embarked.” The Buff crew refused payment for their extra work, when it was proposed to stop a portion of the mutineers’ pay and hand it over to the new crew, and “wished to enjoy the satisfaction of feeling that they had only done their duty as British soldiers, determined to support their commanding officer in any position.”

The incident is not merely one of passing interest, it evidences that sentiment du devoir and discipline which, combined, form the finest soldiery the world has ever seen.

These are but a few of the noble records of the “Army at Sea.”