Back Aa

Three Midshipmen

<h3>Chapter Six.</h3> <h4>Paddy Adair, Hurrah!</h4> The beautiful frigate looked like a vast cloud of snowy whiteness, as, with studding-sails alow and aloft, she swept proudly along over the blue waters of the Mediterranean in chase of the stranger. The latter had been standing to the eastward; but seeing herself pursued, she also altered her course, and ran off before the wind towards the land. Night was coming on, and it was very important to get up with her, near enough to ascertain her character, to prevent her escaping, should such be her design, in the dark. Every one was on deck or in the tops, looking out at the stranger, and those considered themselves fortunate who could command the use of a spyglass. One person—bully Pigeon—was below, and he sat quaking on a chest in the orlop deck, where he had been told that he would be least likely to have his head shot away. “I am a non-combatant, you know. It would be very wrong in me to expose my life,” he observed with a trembling lip. “If I was one of you, of course I would do my duty as bravely as anybody; but as I am a civilian, and am come aboard for my health, I think it is my duty to take care of myself.” “Oh! of course,” was the reply; “so precious a person should run no risk of losing his valuable life.” “Oh, I wish poor Adair were with us,” exclaimed Jack. “He did so wish to see a real fight; and to have to go out of the world without having been in one was very trying.” Jack spoke just as his feelings for the moment prompted him, without much consideration, I suspect. “Do you know, Rogers, that since we escaped in so wonderful a way from drowning, I have more than once thought that perhaps some of the people of the Onyx may have been saved,” observed Murray. “I do not say that I have any great hopes on the subject, but still I cannot help thinking that it is possible.” “I’m afraid not, though; we should have heard of them before now,” replied Jack. “But if anybody escaped, I would rather it were Paddy Adair than any one else.” Their conversation was cut short by that rolling sound of a drum which makes the heart of every true man-of-war’s man leap with joy. It followed the captain’s order to the first lieutenant, “Beat to quarters.” What magic was there in the sound of those words! In an instant every one, from the first lieutenant to the smallest powder-monkey, was in full activity. Bulkheads were knocked away, firescreens were put up, the gallery fire was extinguished, the magazines were opened, powder and shot were handed up, the small-arms were served out, the men buckled on their cutlasses, and stuck their pistols in their belts. Although Captain Lascelles fully believed that he should gain the victory, he was too good an officer and too wise a man not to take every possible means to secure it. It was soon evident that the Racer was coming up hand-over-hand with the chase, and before long it was clearly made out that she was, at least, a fifty-gun ship. She showed no colours, and as to her nationality opinions were divided. Some thought she was French; but then in opposition to this conjecture, it was asserted that a French fifty-gun ship was not likely to run away from a frigate, whereas a Turk or an Egyptian was very likely indeed to do so. The officers on board them were generally very inefficient, while a total want of discipline prevailed. “That craft ahead must have a very bad conscience, or she would not be in such a hurry to get out of our way,” observed Jack; “she’s a Turk, or I am a Dutchman.” “So the captain thinks, which is fortunate, or you might have to turn into a Dutchman, or else break your word,” observed Murray. “I wish that he were a Frenchman. I should so like to have a tussle with him,” said Jack. “Let people talk as they will about liberty, equality, and fraternity, I agree with my father, that the French never will like the English till they have taught us to eat frogs, and have thrashed us on a second field of Waterloo, and I hope that time may never come.” “I hope not either,” said Murray. “But I have no wish to go to war with France or Frenchmen. If they are bad friends, they are worse enemies, and not to be despised, depend on that; no people could have fought better than they did during the last war.” “That is the reason I should like to fight them again,” exclaimed Jack. “What is the use of fighting with people who can’t fight?” Murray laughed at Jack’s style of reasoning. He had not arrived at the conclusion which an older man might have reached, that fighting under any circumstances is a dreadful business, and that the person who gives the cause for the fight does a very wicked thing, utterly hateful in the sight of God. Never let that truth be forgotten. Darkness was now rapidly coming on. The stranger could just be seen looming through it. Captain Lascelles felt pretty confident, however, that he should come up with her before she could make her escape. Night at last settled completely down over the ocean; still she could be seen, though very indistinctly. On the two ships flew before the breeze. At length the master, who had been examining the chart in his cabin, came up to the captain. “We are drawing in very near to the coast, sir,” said he. “It will be safer to keep the lead going.” “But where the ship ahead can float so can we,” observed Captain Lascelles. “She may manage to run in between reefs on which we may strike. Never let us trust to the leading of an enemy, sir,” was the answer. “You are right, master, you are right!” exclaimed Captain Lascelles, in a tone of warm approval. “Send a hand with the lead into each of the chains. We’ll run no risk of casting the ship away.” Soon the voices of the leadsmen were heard through the still silence of night, as the gallant frigate clove her way through the calm waters. “By the deep nine,” sang out one on the starboard side. “By the mark seven,” was soon afterwards heard from the man in the port chains. “Quarter less six,” was the next shouted out. “We are shoaling our water rapidly,” observed Captain Lascelles to the first lieutenant. “Stand by to go about.” All eyes had been fixed on the dark mass ahead. Onward it seemed to glide through the darkness. Every one felt certain that their eyes did not deceive them. There still appeared, they all believed, the sails of the stranger, a huge towering pinnacle reaching to the sky. Yet so near the ground were they that it was dangerous for the frigate, though of course drawing much less water, to stand on. “Was she a ship of mortal fabric?” some of the more superstitious among the seamen began to ask. As they looked, the tall pyramid seemed to rock, and then suddenly to dissolve into the air. A sound, at the same time, came from the southward, as if of breakers dashing on a rocky shore. “Hands about ship,” shouted the captain, with startling energy. The cry was repeated by the first lieutenant, and quick almost as the answer of an electric message, the boatswain’s whistle uttered the well-known call along the decks. Round came the ship, and when the eyes of those on board were turned to the south, not an indication could be discovered of the ship which had thus far led them in the chase. “We’ll keep her off and on during the night,” said the captain to the first lieutenant. “At daylight we will stand in, and see what has become of her. There is little doubt, however, that she has gone on shore. I trust, as there is not much sea on, that the people will contrive to save themselves.” At this time the Sultan of Turkey was running a great risk of losing the greater part if not the whole of his dominions. Mehemet Ali was one of the most remarkable men who have appeared in the East during this century. Although of the lowest origin and unable to read, having become a soldier, he raised himself by his talents and intrigues to the highest rank in the Turkish army. Being sent to Egypt, he deposed the ruler of that province, and became pacha in his stead. He even showed that he allowed no sentimental scruples to prevent him from accomplishing any object on which he had set his heart. Believing that the Mamelukes might be as troublesome to him as they had often proved to the Sultan, he invited 500 of them to a feast, and then had all of them murdered with the exception of one, who escaped by leaping his horse over a high wall. The idea was simple and very oriental. He might have made them his friends, but he thought that might be too difficult a task, so he chose the other alternative. Now Mehemet Ali thought that it would be much pleasanter to be an independent sovereign than a tributary to the Porte, so he threw off the Turkish yoke. Then he thought that he might as well rule over Syria also, and he accordingly marched his army there and took possession of the country. His ambition increased with his conquests, and at last he resolved, if he could, to mount the throne of the caliphs. He was backed up in all his proceedings by the French, who knew that if he succeeded they might easily take possession of Egypt on some excuse or other; while the Russians were well pleased to let him play his game, because they knew that the Sultan might call them in to his assistance, and thus they might get hold of Constantinople. The Egyptian army in Syria was commanded by Ibrahim Pacha, the adopted son of Mehemet Ali. He advanced his victorious standard to within a short distance of Constantinople; but then, instead of pushing on and occupying the city, he delayed till the Russians had reached the shores of the Bosphorus. He in consequence thought it wiser to enter into a treaty by which he secured the Pachalic of Syria and Adana as well as that of Egypt for himself and his father. At first the tribes inhabiting Syria welcomed him as their deliverer, but they soon found that they had not changed rulers for the better, and that he fleeced them as much as had the pachas appointed by the Sultan. They therefore entreated the Sultan to take them under his protection. He accordingly sent an army to their relief. It was now that England and Austria thought it time to interfere. Neither of them wished the Egyptians to succeed, because the Russians would have had an excuse for interfering. The Russians did not want anybody but themselves to interfere, but when the English, Austrians, and Prussians came forward, they were compelled to put a finger into the pie, to counteract the efforts of the French. The French would gladly have aided the Egyptians for the sake of gaining a footing in the country, but as they were not ready for war they thought it wiser to refrain from all open acts of hostility. The Turkish army advancing sustained a defeat from the Egyptians, while their fleet, which had been sent to the Dardanelles, sailed for Alexandria, and joined that of Mehemet Ali. The four powers accordingly entered into an agreement to make him withdraw his army from Syria, and offering him the ultimatum of the hereditary sovereignty of Egypt and the possession during his life of Saint Jean d’Acre. If he refused, he was to have only the government of Egypt, and the four powers were to compel him by force to accept this arrangement. The sturdy old pacha, however, backed by France, resolved to hold out. A British squadron was therefore sent to blockade the ports of Egypt and Syria, with a few Austrian and Turkish ships, Russia undertaking not to take possession of Constantinople. The French had not been consulted in the matter, and had they felt themselves sufficiently strong, there is little doubt that they would have supported Mehemet Ali, at the expense of a war with England. Thus much was at the time known to Captain Lascelles. Much circumspection was therefore required, for it was difficult to understand who were friends and who foes. The French commanders might have received secret orders to attack the English after a certain day; the Egyptians might at any moment do so, if they felt themselves strong enough to be assured of victory; while it was more than probable that any Turkish ships might have gone over to the Egyptians, and have thus become enemies. Few of the officers turned in that night; they were all anxious to ascertain who the stranger was, and what could possibly have become of him. Captain Lascelles took the frigate in as close as he could venture, and though each time every eye on board was turned eagerly towards the shore, not a sign of a ship could be discovered. At length daylight dawned, and a white sandy shore was seen, with bare dark rocky heights rising behind it. “There she is! there she is!” broke from many voices as all the glasses on board were directed towards the shore. There lay stranded the huge black hull of a ship, her masts gone by the board, and her rigging hanging down in confused masses on either side, while the white surf dashed up around her. What had become of the people it was impossible at that distance to say. Captain Lascelles, who was on deck, ordered the ship to be hove-to. “I wonder what is next to be done,” said Jack to Murray; “I hope if the boats are ordered away you and I will have to go in them.” Very soon the order was given. “Barge and first and second cutters away!” Jack and Alick belonged to the two latter. They hurried to get them ready. The crews were armed, and a three-pounder was placed in the bow of each boat. Mr Thorn had charge of the expedition. It was not expected that there would be any fighting, but as a precautionary measure it was necessary to be armed. No one now supposed that the stranger was French. There could be little doubt she was either Turkish or Egyptian, but why she had run on shore it was difficult to say. The idea was that she had been purposely lost. In high glee at the thoughts of an adventure, the party shoved off from the frigate. Mr Thorn was directed to ascertain the character of the ship, and to render assistance if it was required. A light breeze from the westward enabled them to stand in under sail towards the shore. As they drew towards the wreck, they looked anxiously to ascertain her condition. She was on shore about a quarter of a mile from the beach. All the masts were gone, some of the guns had been hove overboard, others had their muzzles still appearing through the ports. Many of the crew were on board, but a considerable number had made their escape to the shore, their red caps and petticoat trousers showing that they were either Turks or Egyptians. As the boats got close up to the ship, the people on board began to gesticulate furiously, and it seemed with no very friendly intentions. Of this they gave proof, for they got some smaller guns on the quarter-deck slewed round, and began firing away at the boats. Fortunately their gunnery was very bad, or they might have cut them to pieces. On seeing this, Mr Thorn made a white pocket-handkerchief fast to a boat-hook, and waved it towards them, but the barbarians seemed to hold a flag of truce in very little respect, as they continued firing as before. Just then, Rogers and Murray observed a young officer; he seemed to rush up from below, and furiously attack the men with his sword, driving them from the gun. He then leaped upon the taffrail and waved his hand to them and shouted, but they were too far off to hear his voice. “Murray, Murray, who do you think that is?” shouted Jack. “I know who it is like,” answered Murray. “It is like—” Just at that moment a terrific roar was heard. The entire vast mass of the wreck seemed to be lifted up bodily into the air. Up, up it went. Lurid flames and dense volumes of smoke burst forth, and then down came the huge mass shattered into a thousand fragments; beams, and guns, and planks, and human bodies, and the various contents of the ship all mingled together. A cry of horror escaped from the boats’ crews when they saw what had occurred. “Pull for your lives, my lads,” shouted Mr Thorn. “Give way now.” The men, recovering from their amazement, required no second order, but pulled away as hard as they could from the burning wreck. Happily they were no nearer, for in an instant afterwards down came burning fragments of the wreck, covering the sea far and wide, the terrific shower almost swamping the boats. Although several pieces struck them, no one was materially injured. The whole occurrence occupied not a minute of time. The ship, however, continued burning furiously, and the guns in the forepart of her, which appeared not to have been blown up, as the flames reached them went rapidly off, one after other, sending their shot whizzing away on either side. “Some of the poor fellows may have escaped with their lives, and may be struggling in the water. Can’t we go back and try to pick them up?” said Jack to Hemming, who commanded his boat. “A right notion—that we ought, Rogers,” answered Hemming, who was too high-minded even to refuse to take a suggestion offered by a junior. Hemming made the proposal to Mr Thorn, and back dashed the boats, not a man in them recollecting even for a moment that the people they were now so eager to save, had but a few minutes before been most unwarrantably firing away at them. Jack too had a strange feeling that he knew the appearance of the young officer who had interposed in their favour, but still it was too vague to allow him to ground any strong hopes on it. Murray had, however, conceived the same idea. With what eagerness they pulled about looking out for their struggling fellow-creatures! First they hauled on board a stout Turk, who did not appear to be much the worse for his flight and ducking, except that he was, not unnaturally, in a dreadful fright. If he had conceived the idea that he had already entered Paradise, the big-whiskered jolly tars, instead of the houris he might have expected to welcome him, must quickly have shown him his mistake. He looked up with a stare of astonishment as he was placed at the bottom of the boat. Another poor fellow had had his leg almost blown off, but still he clung on to a piece of plank. Hemming quickly formed a tourniquet with a handkerchief to stop the bleeding, while a savage-looking fellow was being hauled in, who even then cast a scowl of defiance and hatred at his preservers. “You might as well have said thank you, instead of looking so glum, old boy,” observed one of the men as he placed him alongside his companions. “There’s a young Turk hanging on to a spar away there, and waving to us,” cried Jack, putting the boat’s head in the direction he indicated. “Give way, my lads.” Murray’s boat was pulling in the same direction. Jack got up first to the young Turk, as he called him, and almost tumbled headlong into the water in helping him on board. “It is, it is,” he shouted; “it is himself! I thought so.” “Who? who?” asked Murray eagerly. “Paddy Adair?” cried Jack, almost bursting into tears. “It’s Paddy himself.” “Paddy Adair, hurrah! hurrah!” was echoed from all the boats. “Paddy, my dear boy, where have you come from?” asked Hemming, with unwonted gentleness in his tone. Jack had got Terence’s hand, and would not let it go. “The last place I came from was the poop of that Turkish ship which is burning away there; then I went up into the air, I believe; and lastly, you have hauled me out of the water; the remainder of my adventures would take some time to tell, so you had better try and pick up any more of my shipmates who may still be alive. There were a good lot of us altogether turned into sky-rockets.” Paddy had not forgotten his habit of joking. The boats altogether picked up some fifteen or twenty Turks, whom they landed on the beach, with the exception of those who had been injured, whom in mercy they conveyed on board the frigate. A considerable number had been drowned from leaping off the forecastle when the ship was in flames, and being unable to swim. Altogether a very large number of the crew must have been lost. “But, Paddy,” said Jack, looking earnestly up in Adair’s face, while he still held his hand, “you haven’t really turned into a Turk, have you?” “Give me a boiled leg of pork, and some pease pudding, and prove me,” answered Terence, laughing. “No, indeed; these wide nether garments and this red cap are the chief Turkish things about me, and the latter I thus gladly cast from me, and as soon as I can get a pair to supply their place, I’ll gladly throw the others after the cap.” Paddy as he spoke hove the fez into the sea with a look of intense satisfaction. “If you knew what I have gone through, you would not be surprised at my pleasure of getting rid of everything to remind me of it,” he observed. The boats made the best of their way out to the frigate, to report what had occurred. “What have you been about? what has happened?” were the questions eagerly asked, as they got alongside and handed up the wounded Turks. “Why, we have been and found Paddy Adair,” shouted Jack, unable any longer to restrain his feelings. The eager faces of several midshipmen were seen at the gangway, looking out to ascertain the fact by ocular demonstration. “It’s quite true, Paddy Adair is found, Paddy Adair is found,” exclaimed a dozen voices in joyful tones. The words were taken up, and echoed along the deck, “Paddy Adair is found; hurrah for Paddy Adair!” Especially vociferous were his own messmates, who were delighted to get him back again, and happy at the same time to have an excuse for using their lungs. The boats were hoisted up, and Paddy, having changed his wet Turkish costume for a dry midshipman’s uniform, was sent for into the cabin to give an account of his adventures to Captain Lascelles. He, however, reserved a still more detailed account to give to his messmates in full conclave assembled in the midshipmen’s berth. The only person on board who had not heard of Adair’s arrival was Pigeon. He had laid down after breakfast on a sofa in the first lieutenant’s cabin, and gone fast asleep. About luncheon-time he awoke, and rubbing his eyes sat up, and feeling hungry after all the excitement and fright he had gone through, arose and went into the gun-room. Finding no one there, he bethought him that he would go and honour the midshipmen with a visit, and talk of what he would have done if the ship had gone into action, and his services had actually been required. He was, somewhat to his surprise, welcomed with a cordiality to which he was not much accustomed. In a short time the conversation turned to the loss of the Onyx, and to the character of Paddy Adair. One said one thing of him, and one or two hazarded slightly disparaging observations. The bait took. “Oh, he was, I remember, always a foolish dunder-headed Irishman,” observed Pigeon; “I could thrash a dozen such fellows as he was. No one thought anything of him at school, I remember.” “Oh, bully Pigeon, oh, bully Pigeon, that you know right well wasn’t the case,” exclaimed Paddy, popping his head in at the door of the berth. Pigeon looked up at hearing the voice, and turning very pale, while his countenance exhibited a look of intense horror, fell back in a fainting fit, which afforded an excellent excuse to several of the youngsters for throwing half a dozen tumblers of water over him. Some of the water was cold, and some was rather hot, but the effect was the same. He got a thorough ducking, and after spluttering not a little, and coughing as the water dashed into his mouth, he quickly recovered his senses. It was some little time, however, before he could be convinced that Paddy Adair in propria persona sat before him. Harmony was soon restored, and Paddy assured him that he did not intend to frighten him so much, and that he hoped he would forgive him. Never was a happier party assembled in the berth at dinner than on that occasion. Paddy’s health was drunk, and he was warmly congratulated on his escape and return on board, even by the seniors of the mess. “And now, Adair, let us hear all about it,” said Hemming, when the cloth had been removed and the young gentlemen were discussing their walnuts and wine. “Why, it is not a very long story,” observed Paddy, “for do you see most of the events took place in a somewhat rapid way, my last skylark especially. However, you shall hear. We had just got on board the Onyx, and the commander had ordered the boats to be hoisted up, when, as the men were engaged in the operation, the squall struck her, and over she went in a moment—not a rope parted, nor a sail, I believe—just like a nine-pin knocked over by a ball. I was still in the captain’s gig on the weather side. Feeling her going, or rather gone, I believe it was more from fright or instinct than from any exercise of my reasoning powers, I seized a couple of oars under my arms, slid overboard down her bottom, and struck out with all my might away from the sinking hull. I never struck out so hard in my life, for I felt that I was swimming for my life. I believe that I gave myself a shove off with the oars, which helped me rapidly to increase my distance from the brig. Suddenly I felt myself drawn back, and I thought that I was going to be sucked under water—so I was for a short time; but I held a tight grasp of the oars, and once more quickly rose to the surface. When I looked round there was not a sign of a brig. I shouted, no one answered. I could see no one floating alive on the spot where the trim craft had lately glided in all her pride and beauty. I was alone on the dark troubled sea. The foam dashed in my face, and the waves tumbled me about terribly, and I thought more than once that I should have to let go and sink with the rest. I felt very miserable and very sorry that so many fine fellows had lost their lives, for I was too certain that I alone had escaped, and then I began to think how grateful I ought to be that I had been so mercifully preserved. I can’t talk about that; but I wish you fellows to know that I do not think or feel lightly on the subject, that is all. Night was rapidly coming on, my prospects were far from pleasant, and somewhat limited too, as I could only just make out the tumbling seas on either side of me. I felt pretty certain that the frigate would come back to look after the brig; but scarcely hoped that such a speck as I was would be seen. Still I determined to keep up my spirits, and to hang on to the oars as long as I could. Sometimes I put my legs up over them, and thus I both changed my position and floated very comfortably. Perhaps an hour had passed after the brig had gone down—it appeared as if several had elapsed—when I felt a sort of drowsiness come over me. Suddenly there appeared right over me a big dark object. I guessed that it was the bow of a vessel. I sang out with all my might. She was very nearly running me down. As she did not quite run over me, it was fortunate that she came so close. A rope was hanging over her side; I found my hands grasping it. It must literally have been towed over me; I clutched it with all my might, and found myself hauled up on the deck of a low latine-rigged craft running under her foresail before the squall. The crew had red caps on, and loose trousers, and talked a language I could not understand, so I concluded that they were Turks or Moors, or Egyptians; they were very good-natured though. They took me below and gave me some arrack, which was very nasty, and they took off my wet things, and rigged me out in one of their own suits. When I explained that my ship had gone down, they understood me perfectly. Next they made me eat some lumps of meat off a skewer, with some rice and biscuit, and then signified that I might lie down on a mat in the cabin and go to sleep. I did not awake till morning. I wanted to put on my own uniform again, but they would not give it to me, and I began to fear that they were going really to turn me into a Turk. “For several days we sailed on. Where we were going to I could not make out, for they would never let me see their compass. At last we made the land somewhere on the coast of Syria, I am pretty certain; and, running in, we found a fifty-gun ship, brought up in a roadstead a couple of miles off the shore. The Mistico went alongside and stores of all sorts and provisions were hoisted up out of her, and then without my leave being asked I found myself transferred, like the rest of the bales of goods, to her deck. I had not had a particularly pleasant time of it among the very dirty crew of the Mistico, so I thought that I might have changed for the better. I was much obliged to them, however, for saving my life; so we parted very good friends, and when the little craft shoved off, I waved them an affectionate farewell. I soon found that I had not much improved my condition. The larger the ship, the greater was the amount of dirt and disorder. No one knew their duty, at all events no one did it. How they managed to exist a day without being blown up or foundering, I do not know. They were constantly smoking with the doors of the magazine open and ammunition scattered about, and night and day with every prospect of a squall, the lower deck ports were ever left open. I got hold of some of the officers, and tried to show them the danger they were running; so they rubbed their caps about their heads and opened their eyes and tried to look very wise, and followed my suggestions. But the next day things were as bad as ever. However, when they found out that I was up to a thing or two, they insisted on making me an officer. What rank I held I never could tell. I only knew that everybody obeyed me, and that none of the officers interfered with my commands. This complaisant conduct did not arise so much from respect for me, as that they might save themselves trouble. I never met with men who seemed to hate it so much, from the captain to the youngest powder-monkey. My great difficulty arose from no one understanding a word I said, nor could I understand anybody. Still, we got on very well under ordinary circumstances by signs. At last I happened to go forward and to utter a few words of English. One of the men forthwith pricked up his ears. “‘Beg pardon, sir, you’d find an interpreter convenient, I think,’ he said, touching his cap. “‘What, are you not a Turk?’ said I. “‘I am not and I am,’ he answered; ‘I have become a Turk.’ “‘You are a renegade, in truth,’ said I. “‘Your honour has hit it,’ he replied. “I am sorry to say he was an Irishman. “‘But I’m ready to serve a countryman, and I think I can help you at a pinch.’ “‘I shall be much obliged to you,’ I answered; and from that time forward Pat Hoolan became my interpreter and right-hand man. “He was a great ragamuffin, and I did not trust him more than I could help; but he was very useful to me, and I believe faithfully interpreted the orders I issued through him. I learned also from him some of the politics of the ship. The captain was a great rascal according to our notions. He cheated the crew of their pay and their rations, and his government of the stores and provisions, and indeed anything on which he could lay his hands; while he had been tampered with by some of Mehemet Ali’s emissaries, and was only waiting an opportunity to carry his ship into Alexandria. Such was the state of affairs when we put to sea. He had just before found out that his treachery had been discovered, and that another Turkish ship had been sent in pursuit of him. He tried to get to Alexandria but could not, so we knocked about running from our own shadow till you hove in sight. He then did what he had long resolved to do, ran the ship on shore. He and most of the officers and some of the men escaped in the boats, leaving me with the remainder to be blown up as a reward for my services. No thanks to them I escaped, and that’s the end of my story.” Two days after this a brig of war hove in sight. She signalised “Important news,” “The war has begun.” The frigate made sail towards her. The two men-of-war, as they drew near each other, hove-to, and the commander of the brig came on board the frigate. It was soon known that the Racer was to join the squadron of Sir Robert Stopford. All sail was immediately made on both ships, and together they steered a course for the coast of Syria. <hr /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2

Update Required To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.