THE SIGNAL-MAN OF TRAFALGAR.

Lyttelton Times, Volume II, Issue 75, 12 June 1852, Page 6

THE SIGNAL-MAN OF TRAFALGAR.

(From Chambers's Journal). [For the following little historical fact, which will be admitted to possess some interest, we are indebted to a medical officer of respectability now in India.] While residing in London, in 1846-7, the attention of my father—who had served as surgeon of the Tonnant at Trafalgar—was directed to an old and broken-down man who made a scanty livelihood by crying watercresses and red herrings through the street. It was this man's practice to resort to Covent Garden Market every morning in the season at or before sunrise, to purchase his stock of cresses, and then for four weary hours his cracked voice never ceased to sound through the foggy air, except when a suffocating fit of coughing obliged him to pause and cling to the area railings for support. He appeared to be a quick, sharp-witted old man, and had a great reputation for sagacity among the lower class of neighbours. In the winter of 1846 his cough was so severe that we feared his occupation was gone. I endeavoured to persuade him to take refuge at Guy's, but he would not hear of this, preferring, he said, to die at home. The next spring, however, brought him out again. It was then we discovered that he was an old sailor named John Roome, and that he had served with Nelson at Trafalgar—in fact, that he was then a signal-man on board the " Victory." My father having formerly been acquainted with Captain Pasco, who was signal-lieutenant of the Victory at Trafalgar, purposed to write to that excellent officer, requesting his interest in favour of Roome ; but death came upon my parent while his intention was still unfulfilled, and some months elapsed before I could again direct my attention to the affairs of John Roome. I at length took an opportunity of calling the man in, and then seating him before me, asked him, " Who was the signal-offi-cer on board the " Victory" at Trafalgar?" He replied, "Mr. Pasco, sir." "Did you serve under him ?" " Yes." " Who then hoisted the signal, " England expects every man to do his duty P" " I did." I had felt somewhat prepared for this answer; still, as it was uttered, I could scarcely refrain from a demonstration of reverence towards the old, embarrassed, squalid man who sat uneasily before me. Upon further inquiry, I found that he was sixty-eight years old, and had been a seaman from his youth. He was not more than three or four years altogether in the king's service ; but his intelligence and previously acquired knowledge, had doubtless qualified "him for the rating of A. B. soon after he entered the navy. After Trafalgar he deserted, and the R. (run) against his name had disqualified him for a pension. His life had been one of trial and privation ever since. I enquired of him whether he would like a berth at Greenwich. He applied in the affirmative, but did not appear to pay much attention to the question. It doubtless seemed to him useless to think about a matter so far beyond his reach. I desired him, however, to bring me all his papers in a day or two, and promised to send copied of them, with an account of his present necessities, to Captain Pasco, then commanding his old flag-ship, the •' Victory," at Portsmouth. Roome assented to this; but for some time I feared I should not succeed in obtaining another interview with him. One day he called five hours after his appointment: on another he did not come at all, saying afterwards that he had " overslept himself." Misery and hard usage had evidently made him suspicious, and unused him to kindness ; and certain indefinite terrors with regard to the R. against his name in the Admiralty books still appeared to haunt him. At length, however, he was caught; his papers—even that with the damnatory note of desertion scrawled across it—were copied out, and enclosed with a few lines to Captain Pasco, giving an account of Roome's alleged service at Trafalgar, and requesting that the captain would exert his influence in procuring the man a refuge at Greenwich. As quickly as the post would allow I received a letter from Captain Pasco, thanking me for the interest I had taken in the cause of " his old ship-mate Roome," but referring me to the enclosure as evidence that his intercession had [ been unsuccessful. The accompanying letter

was from a high government official, to the effect that John Roome could not be admitted to Greenwich, as there were many other more deserving candidates still unprovided for. Roome was again summoned ; and as this disheartening news was read to him, the old man's lip quivered, his eyes filled with tears, and his cheek grew ashy white. I then knew how strongly the new hope had fixed itself in his mind. He could only stammer that he supposed it was no use troubling the gentleman any more; he had the R. against his name, it was true, but that an act of indemnity for all deserters who might surrender themselves had been issued (I think in 1S13); he and many others had surrendered accordingly, and he had hoped to be " whitewashed," as he termed it. The only course- remaining appeared to be, to write to Captain Pasco, thanking him for his humane kindness, and mentioning that Roome had anticipated forgiveness under the government order in question. This was done ; but before my letter could have reached its destination, I received a note from Captain Pasco, saying that if Roome would present himself either at Somerset House or the Admiralty on a certain day he would be admitted to Greenwich. And all this came to pass. A short time afterwards I received a visit from a smartly dressed Greenwich pensioner, who carefully deposited a basket of water-cresses in the passage. I found this edition of John Roome to be a wonderful improvement upon the tattered unfortunate of a few months back. He looked stout and contented; declared that Greenwich was a capital place for a poor man ;"and certainly presented an unquestionable evidence of the fact in his own person, for his cheeks were ruddy, and the tearing cough was gone. He wished to make me a present of a little frigate which he had built and rigged himself. I told him that I was about to embark for India, and there I feared I could not take his present with me. He then said he had himself been at Calcutta. India was a fine country; and that "if I would write him a ' chit' before I embarked, he would come and sling my hammock for me in a style that no seaman in Her Majesty's service could beat. It was not every man," he assured me, "ascould sling a hammock properly ; and there was more in slinging a hammock than gentlemen who had never been to sea would suppose." He then went away, taking his well-laden basket of water-cresses with him. I do not believe that he disgraced his uniform by crying " Watercress, oh !" It seemed that he carried the basket merely as a sign by which his old acquaintances might recognise the lately ragged itinerant in the now well-clothed and substantial looking Greenwich pensioner. I cannot tell whether Roome is living still. The snug wards of Greenwich have doubtless not been proof against the chilling gusts of the last four winters; but should he still survive, few of the readers of this narrative will, I am confident, defer the opportunity of seeking out one whose name must hereafter stand beside that of Nelson in the page of history.