The fascinating sea-faring adventures of Bofeenaun's Boy Wanderer

It was a splendid summer’s afternoon when the SS Stephano passenger steamship docked at New York Harbour in mid-May, 1914. The ship's crew and passengers had enjoyed three days of smooth sailing along the 636-mile route from Halifax, Canada, to North America’s most famous port in the shadow of Lady Liberty.

Among the travellers cheerfully disembarking the Stephano, one young man cut quite a distinctive figure. Dressed in the dark blue uniform of a bugler of British Royal Artillery - complete with stiff high collar and brass buttons - few could have guessed that the young man beneath the peaked servicemen's cap was about to cause quite a stir as he set foot on American soil for the first time.

His name was Vincent Murray, aged 15, and he hailed from Boofeenuan, in the parish of Adergoole, County Mayo. The remarkable tale of adventure he would soon relay was one which made it into the pages of the New York press and the Western People in the days and weeks that followed. Presenting himself before harbour authorities, Vincent Murray duly produced official papers and documents which showed that the teeneger had spent the previous three years at sea as an apprentice ‘ship’s boy’, visiting a string of major ports around the globe.

He had come to North America to start a new life and give his sea legs a break on dry land: “Adventurer chooses New York as his new home port after a look at the world”, the Evening World told its readers on May 14 1914. The story of Murray’s “varied career” was picked up by the Western People the following month, and we can only imagine whether or not reports of Vincent’s whereabouts came as new to his relatives and friends at home in North Mayo.

The teenager gladly told of the many skills he had already acquired in his short life, as reported in the Western People on June 6, 1914. Not only was he a competent sailor who could “ship as an able seaman under sail or steam”, but he was a trained signalman who understood “semaphore, morse, wigwag, lights and whistle signals”.

He was a well-practised bugler, most recently attached to the second company of the Royal Artillery, stationed at the Canadian garrison in Halifax. He was quite the linguist, having picked up “German, Spanish, some French and Chinese” on his travels. 

Murray’s talents did not end there. He claimed to be a keen boxer and had even “licked the bandmaster of the artillery company for the 94-pound championship”. He even had a flair for entertaining and proudly demonstrated his unique ventriloquism abilities!

Murray’s age posed a quandary for New York Harbour authorities. As he was travelling alone and under the age of 16, he was technically classed as an ‘unaccompanied minor’. Thus he was obliged to present himself at Ellis Island - the busiest and most famous immigration inspection and processing station in the United States. 

Operating from 1894 to 1954, some 12 million immigrants passed through Ellis Island en route to their new lives in the land of opportunity. Among the vast archive of records that have survived, Vincent Marray’s passenger file can be found. A blue-eyed boy with light hair and a fair complexion, he was five feet tall.

He did not know his date of birth, except to say that he was born in the year 1899. In his pockets, he carried the sum of ten dollars. He gave no next of kin but revealed that he had an uncle living in New Jersey whom he planned to live with.

The fresh-faced youth told of how he had left his home on a small farm in Bofeenaun at the tender age of 11 after his father had passed away. He crossed the Irish Sea and made his way to the seaside village of Shotley, south-east of Ipswich, in the English county of Suffolk. Shotley was home to Ganges, a barracks and shore-based training facility of the British Royal Navy which opened its gates in 1906.

Somehow Murray secured a place as a new recruit, despite being considerably below 14, the average age of his fellow cadets.

Ganges' reputation was legendary. The rigorously enforced regime which centred on character-building and self-discipline was designed to ‘make men of boys’. Up to 500 boys were housed in the facility at any one time, accommodated in two large dormitories. Boat drilling, sail hoisting, knot tying, swimming and rope climbing were key components in the challenging curriculum, readying the young men for a career ‘following the compass’. 

The boys were instructed in literacy, signalling, first aid, morse code, sewing, athletics, and boxing. And of course, there was a good deal of drilling, marching and inspection. The officers in charge ran a tight ship and there was no room for misconduct. Boys found to be ‘members of the draggers club’ (i.e. smoking a cigarette) were given a punishment of ‘jankers’ and made to walk with a stick raised above their heads during recreation time for 14 days.

Ganges’ notoriety was enhanced by the famous ship's mast which was installed as a permanent fixture in the barrack grounds. In order to complete basic training, each cadet had to briskly scale the rigging of the 140-foot structure to at least the ‘half-moon’ (halfway) platform. Those who made it to the top were deemed the most promising future seamen, and the top prize went to the ‘button boy’ - the cadet who made it to the circular tip of the mast, known as ‘the button’.

Murray recounted that he had spent a year at Ganges. Next, it was time to put his training to the test as he was taken on as an apprentice ship’s boy in 1911. He was initially “shipped to Chinese seas” and would spend the next three years aboard British naval vessels, circling the globe on the high seas. It was an era when Great Britain ruled the waves, boasting the largest and most powerful naval fleet in the world. The priority of the Royal Navy made up of over 300 vessels and 300,000 personnel, was to protect and defend a vast empire on which the sun never set.

International trade routes vital to Britain’s economy were patrolled all year long. In areas that posed a potential threat to national security, a strong showing of maritime supremacy was maintained to send a clear message to the world.

In the years that young Murray was at sea, the British Royal Navy was active in every continent, bar Antarctica - in places such as Malta, Cape Town, Hong Kong, Singapore, Fiji, Bombay and Papua New Guinea to name but a few. While the position of apprentice ship’s boy offered a rare opportunity to visit far-flung destinations and learn to navigate on open water, it was a physically demanding role.

The regimented approach to on-shore training was replicated at sea, along with the strict code of order and discipline. Ensuring the ship’s deck was scrubbed spick and span, cleaning the sleeping and cooking quarters, keeping watch, and generally being at the beck and call of the crew, was all in a day's work for a young apprentice. Living quarters were cramped and food rations were basic. 

There were of course dangers to contend with too - treacherous weather, disease, and the threat of attack from enemy vessels. An apprentice did, however, earn a modest weekly wage, kept in trust and paid out at the end of each voyage. For Vincent Murray, the ten dollars he carried in his buglers uniform (the equivalent of $200 today) was certainly hard-earned.

After delighting journalists and passengers with his remarkable tales, Murray was at last given the decision of immigration authorities. He would be permitted to enter the United States and begin his civilian life, on condition that he go directly to the home of his uncle, Thomas Geraghty in Davis Street, Harrison, New Jersey.

What became of Vincent Murray is unclear, and sadly the trail of the young sailor in various records runs cold. Did he take to life on shore, or did the lure of the open waters call him back to sea? Was he among the countless young men whose fate was sealed by the outbreak of the Great War? The search continues for Bofeenaun’s boy wanderer, who took the ‘scenic route’ from the shadow of Neiphin to the streets of New York.

Note: The famous ship's mast at Ganges Training School in Shotley fell into neglect after the school closed its gates in 1976. It underwent extensive restoration and was unveiled for the coronation of King Charles earlier this year.