A Foggy Day in London: History of the BSA fiction

[baden405]

Hi everyone,

 

I'm new on the forums, but I would like to share a piece of fiction I wrote telling the story of the Unknown Scout and William D Boyce. I posted it to our Troop website, Baden405.com , but you can read it below:

 

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The Boy Scouts of America was founded on February 8, 1910 by William D. Boyce. An unknown Scout had guided him through a London fog in late 1909, and he was so inspired by this one good deed that he decided to bring Boy Scouting to the United States. It all started one foggy day in London

 

* * *

 

William D. Boyce was in London, and he was furious.

 

Not furious with anyone else. No, he was furious with himself, for he had exited his cab, walked a block, and got himself lost. How, he had no clue. But he had, and here he was, in the middle of a fog, with no one near.

 

Ah, that was how. The fog. Of course.

 

How stupid of me, Boyce grumbled. What an utterly, entirely stupid decision I made.

 

Boyce was a successful businessman. Born just east of Pittsburgh in 1858, he was a multimillionaire who owned the Chicago Ledger and Saturday Blade, with the newspapers weekly circulation being over two million copies nationwide. He was a sturdily built man at six foot, with piercing blue eyes and brown hair. In the late 1880s, he started to publish the Blade, and went on expeditions to Africa, Alaska, Mexico, and elsewhere, mainly to inspire him to write wild tales for his paper.

 

That was why, in late 1909, he was here in London. He was traveling to British East Africa for a safari and had stopped midway to rest before continuing his journey. Earlier that day, he had exited the steamboat, got a ride in a horse-drawn cab, and had, quite foolishly, asked the cabbie to stop about a quarter mile from the hotel so he could walk a while, getting some fresh air on the way.

 

Actually, he thought wryly, I made two stupid decisions today. London reeked; every lungful of air he breathed smelled like he was standing in a waste dump, and the fog was so thick he could barely see. How he was supposed to get to his hotel now, he had no idea.

 

He continued to walk, his way lit by far too few street lamps for his liking. And, unfortunately, they were not much help. After walking for a few more minutes, he stopped under one of the lamps and tried to get his bearings.

 

Sir? A voice behind him said loudly.

 

Boyce jumped, then quickly spun around and came face to face with a young boy.

 

Good heavens, boy! You dont do that to an old man like myself.

 

The boy looked down shamefully, then murmured, I am sorry, sir.

 

Boyce replied, Dont think a second about it, lad. I was shocked, thats all. Strolling through London with this fog would give anyone the willies. They should tell everyone to stay inside in this weather. The boy looked up with a faint smile.

 

Boyce continued, I mean, really, how can you not get lost in a fog like this? He paused, then looked down at the boy, who had started to quietly laugh.

 

Whats so funny? Boyce asked sternly.

 

The boy grinned at him, then replied, Well, sir, I have lived in London all my life and am quite familiar with the place. I have not gotten lost in years.

 

A flicker of annoyance passed over Boyces face before his eyes twinkled with a smile and he broke out in laughter. I guess tourists are not what they used to be. He winked, then asked, If you know so much about London, then where is the closest hotel?

 

The boy replied, That would be Browns, sir.

 

Boyce clapped his hands. Perfect. That is just the hotel I reserved a room in. He tipped his hat to the boy, then started to walk away.

 

The boy laughed again, then stated, That is the opposite way of the hotel.

 

Boyce spun around, feeling rather foolish. Ah. I see.

 

Would you like me to take you to the hotel, sir?

 

Boyce grinned, pushing his hat firmly onto his head. After you, my dear boy.

 

* * *

 

They walked in silence, the boy occasionally pointing the way through the fog. Boyce stayed close behind, watching the boy bob and weave through the streets and following suit. After a short period of time, they reached the door of the hotel. Boyce turned towards the boy, pulled a few coins out of his pocket, and held them out.

 

The boy looked at them, then shook his head. No thank you, sir. I am a Scout. I will not take anything for helping.

 

A Scout? Boyce asked, confused. And what might that be?

 

The boy told Boyce about Scouting, Robert Baden-Powell, and his fellow Scouts. Boyce listened intently, and when the boy finished, stood there in silence. He finally remarked, Scouting This is quite remarkable. I have never heard of anything like this. He stood there thinking for a moment more, then asked the boy, Do you know the address of Baden-Powell, you said, correct? Do you know the address of his office?

 

Of course, the boy answered. Do you have a pen and paper? I will write it down for you.

 

Boyce handed over the materials and the boy quickly scrawled a note. After he finished, the boy looked at Boyce mischievously, then commented, You may want to tell the cabbie to drive you to the building this time.

 

Boyce chuckled, then clapped the boy lightly on the shoulder. I will do that. Thank you, lad.

 

He turned to enter the hotel, walked a few steps, then asked, What did you say your name was, my boy? He turned around, but the boy was already gone.

 

Boyce smiled faintly, then spun back towards the hotel. Scouting, he murmured, and walked inside.

 

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Did you enjoy it? Please comment, and check out our Troop website at www.Baden405.com

 

(This message has been edited by baden405)

[Kahuna]

Good story. Thanks.

[baden405]

Thanks!! Glad you enjoyed it.