Orders, Decorations and Medals

Six: Commissioned Boatman William Harper, H.M. Coast Guard, late Royal Navy

South Africa 1877-79, 1 clasp, 1877-8-9 (A.B. H.M.S. “Active”); Egypt and Sudan 1882-89, 2 clasps, Alexandria 11th July, Suakin 1884 (A.B. H.M.S. “Decoy”); Royal Navy L.S. & G.C., V.R., narrow suspension (Boatmn. H.M. Coast Guard) impressed naming; Khedive’s Star 1882; Board of Trade Sea Gallantry Medal, V.R., large bronze medal (Wreck of the “Middleton” on the 18th November 1893); Royal Humane Society, small bronze medal (Successful) (Boatman, Coast-Guard, 5th Novr. 1890) together with a bronze medal for ‘Proof of Service at a Wreck’, the campaign medals nearly very fine, otherwise nearly extremely fine and a rare group (7) £800-1000

This lot was sold as part of a special collection, The Collection of Medals Formed by The Late John Cooper.

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Royal Humane Society Case No. 25,201: ‘Joseph H. Glynn, William Harper and James Stevenson, Coast Guard at Staithes, Yorkshire, rescued the crew of the ship Carl Oskar. 6.45 a.m. 5th November 1890. Radcliffe, Yorkshire. The Brigantine Carl Oskar was wrecked on the coast and rocket apparatus was used. The cliff under which the wreck was placed is 500 feet high. These 3 men were lowered to a platform whence they went into the surf and had great difficulty in taking the five men from the breechs buoy. Bronze Medal to Glynn, Harper and Stevenson.’

Sea Gallantry Medal in bronze awarded to J. Gloyn, J. Kirkpatrick and W. Harper, coast-guard boatmen of Staithes, Yorkshire, for services at the wreck of the Brig Middleton, of West Hartlepool, on 18 November 1893.

The following details are taken from a copy news cutting, published in Thompson’s Weekly News on 19 May 1923, which accompanies the group: ‘To have been one of a party besieged for twelve weeks by an army of 25,000 natives is only one of the many stirring incidents in the adventurous life of Mr William Harper of 45 St Peter’s Road, Newcastle-on-Tyne, who has retired after about half a century of Government service. Fifty years ago, when but a strip of a lad 16 years old, Mr Harper joined the Navy, and after 27 years’ service retired with the rank of commissioned boatman. He afterwards became associated with H.M. Customs and Excise, from which he recently retired after serving 23 years.

Calling on Mr Harper, he proudly showed me a collection of medals which he had won on various occasions. One was for the Zulu War, another was the Egypt 1882 medal, with the clasp for the bombardment of Alexandria, and the Khedive’s Star and the clasp for Suakim. Two others, he explained, were just for doing his duty while engaged at Staithes, on the Yorkshire coast, as a coast-guard. “One of them,” he said, “is the Royal Humane Society’s medal, which I received in 1891, and the other is the Board of Trade bronze medal for meritorious service at the wreck of the Middleton in 1894. In the early nineties, when I was stationed at Staithes, we had opportunities of saving lives almost every day in the rough weather. The coast at that point is a veritable death-trap to ships in stormy weather, and when they were wrecked near our station we had a terribly dangerous job to rescue the crews.

“Once a Grimsby trawler came ashore during the night just south of the coast-guard station. As soon as we got the signal of distress, off we went to the wreck with rocket life-saving apparatus. To get to the shore from whence we could fire the rockets to the ship, we had to climb down a cliff nearly 500 ft. high. This perilous job we did with the aid of rope ladders. But when we got to the bottom the danger was far from over. The firing of the rocket brought pieces of loose rock down, and we had to look sharp to avoid them.

“One thing I am proud of in that stage of my career is that I never went to a wreck where a single life was lost. We always managed to save every soul. I’ve seen as many as 25 people brought ashore in the midst of a storm when I was at Amble on the rough Northumberland coast. Two of this batch were the bravest girls I’ve ever met. They were the captain’s daughters, and they stoutly maintained that because of their position they were entitled to be last off the ship, not first.

“During my time in the Navy,” continued Mr Harper, “I had two very near escapes from finding a last resting place in Davy Jones’ locker. We were sailing down the Red Sea on one occasion, and while I was crawling along the jib-boom the vessel gave an awkward lurch, and over I went right under her bows. As I felt myself come in contact with the hull of the ship I pushed myself off with my hands and feet. Then I managed to keep away from the vessel until a rope was thrown overboard. Navymen didn’t get much sympathy in their mishaps then, however, and after I had had some spirit I had to do my turn at the wheel. Both my hands and my feet were bleeding from wounds which had been done by the barnacles in the ship’s bottom when I pushed myself away.

“That was a very near squeak, but not long after I was destined to have another shock. This time I was busy up aloft of the top-gallant yard when I slipped and fell to what seemed to be certain death on the deck. But I kept my head, and as I fell I grabbed at a rope on one of the yard arms. Luckily, I caught it, and being then in mid-air, clinging for grim death for several minutes until a shipmate came and assisted me to deck in a very shaky condition.

“I think the most trying ordeal of my career, however,” concluded Mr Harper, “was the 12 weeks I was one of the 1400 men besieged in Fort Ekowe by some 25,000 Zulus. We lived on one small biscuit per day for the most part, and when we wanted a change we had to fight our way out of the fort and gather the natives’ mealies, which we ground up into flour and baked into small cakes.”