W.H.G. Kingston (continued 10)

The squadron came off the mouth of the river about an hour and a half after dark, when the flotilla of boats, without a moment’s delay, proceeded up the stream, with muffled oars. A mist lay on the water, though the stars could be distinguished overhead, which, as they kept directly in the centre, would, they hoped, conceal them from any persons on the banks. The crews were ordered to keep perfect silence; the larger boats were armed with guns in their bows, capable of throwing shot and shell, so that they were well able to compete with any force which might appear, even though accompanied by field—pieces. It was known, however, that the enemy possessed but few in that part of the country.

The boats at length got up within about a quarter of a mile of the ferry at which the caravan was expected to pass. Either bank of the river was lined with a broad belt of tall rushes, in which they were directed to conceal themselves, while Adair in his gig pulled up to try and ascertain whether the waggons had reached the bank. The commodore had settled to wait till some had crossed, so as to attack as many as possible close to the edge of the water, making sure of destroying them as well as those actually crossing.

The crews of the boats were waiting in anxious expectation for the order to dash out of their places of concealment. Day at last dawned; the startled wildfowl flew up from among the rushes, screaming loudly at the intruders; while, as the light increased, the dark water assumed a brighter hue, though a mist still lay on the surface, which greatly assisted in the concealment of the boats. At length Adair’s gig was seen dimly through the mist, pulling at a rapid rate down the stream. In an instant the crews of the boats, jumping into their seats, got out their oars ready to give way as soon as the order should be received. Adair soon reached the commodore’s boat; he said that the provision-waggons had begun to cross, and that several were already on the opposite or western bank. The boats had been ordered to pull up in two divisions, the larger to attack the east bank, the other the west; Jack’s and Adair’s boats belonged to the latter.

The welcome order to advance was heard, and the boats, emerging from their cover, pulled away in two lines, as fast as the men could bend to their oars, moving along like two huge serpents darting on their prey. Not a word was uttered; so that the boats, still shrouded by the mist, were close up to the ferry before they were discovered. The Russians were taken completely by surprise; the waggons on board the ferry-boat were at once captured. The small body of troops sent to convoy them fired a volley from the east bank, on which side the greater number of waggons were still advancing to cross, and then, seeing the strong forces approaching to the attack, retreated; while shouts and shrieks and cries resounded on all sides, the drivers endeavouring to turn round their animals and escape—while the seamen, who sprang on shore, set to work to cut the traces, to prevent them from so doing.

Jack and Adair, with their men, had landed on the west bank, where the drivers of the waggons were doing their utmost to urge on their beasts. The sailors were getting quickly up to the nearest of them to put a stop to their progress, while the others ahead still endeavoured to escape; some in their hurry getting off the road upset. The wildest uproar and confusion ensued, the drivers shrieking to their beasts, the seamen shouting as they rushed forward.

One of the leading waggons, as it dashed forward, overtook a carriage which had apparently been on its way down to the ferry, when the postillions, alarmed by the sounds which reached their ears, turned it round to escape in the opposite direction. A waggon coming against its hinder wheel, had upset it on one side of the road. Just at that juncture, Adair and Desmond, who with their men had gone ahead, arriving at the spot, heard cries for help from female voices proceeding from the carriage. At the same moment they saw a gentlemanly-looking personage in a travelling-dress emerging from one of the windows, and several others, who had evidently been on the outside, endeavouring to pick themselves up in a field into which they had been thrown.

“If that isn’t Tom Rogers, I’m not an Irishman!” exclaimed Desmond; “and there’s Archie Gordon, too—hurrah! provided they haven’t broken their legs or arms, they’ll be all to rights after all;—and that’s no other than our friend Colonel Paskiewich.”

Hurrying forward to assist Colonel Paskiewich in extricating himself from the overturned carriage, they perceived that there were several ladies in the inside, who, although they every now and then uttered screams, were wisely remaining quiet, holding each other in their arms.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” said the colonel; “I must now ask you to help out my wife and daughters, who are naturally fearfully alarmed at what has occurred.”

“We regret to have been the unintentional cause of their disaster,” said Adair politely; while he and Gerald, climbing up on the side of the carriage, caught hold of one of the young ladies, who proved to be Mademoiselle Feodorowna. They were quickly joined by Tom and Archie, the former of whom took the fair Feodorowna in charge. Another person now made his way up from the field into which he had been thrown.

“Why, Higson, my fine fellow, I am very glad to see you!” exclaimed Adair; “where do you come from?”

“I’ll tell you all about it by and by,” answered Higson, “when we have got out the ladies;” and he lending a hand, Mademoiselle Ivanowna was next hauled up, Higson taking her in his arms with the most affectionate solicitude and carrying her to a place of safety by the side of the road; while the rest dragged out her mamma, who, if not much hurt, was greatly alarmed. The coachman, who had also been thrown off his box, had in the meantime been assisting the postillions in cutting the traces; which, having been done, the latter galloped off, under the impression, probably, that should they remain they would be made prisoners with their master.

While this scene was taking place, Jack, with Jos Green, and their men, had advanced towards the post-house, in front of which a small body of troops were drawn up, waiting an opportunity, apparently, to attack the English as soon as they were still more scattered in their pursuit of the waggons, as it was evident they would quickly be. No sooner, however, did they perceive Jack’s compact party of seamen in well-ordered array advancing towards them, than, without even firing their muskets, they went to the right-about, and scampered off as fast as their legs could carry them.

Just as they disappeared, a window in the post-house was thrown open, and out of it jumped Dick Needham, followed by Tim Nolan. “Erin-go-bragh!” shouted the latter; “it’s ourselves have gained our liberty.”

“There’s no time to tell you how it all happened, sir,” said Dick, as Jack welcomed him; “we were not badly treated by the Russians, but I am main glad to get out of their hands—I only wish there was as good a chance of your brother and Mr Gordon getting set at liberty; but I am sorry to say they gave their parole, as they called it, to the colonel; and when I told them that Tim and I had got a plan for getting off from the Russians and making our way to the coast, they told me that they could not join in it, as they were bound to stay till the war was over.”

Commander Rogers, however, had no time to listen further to what his gunner had to say, as he had to set to work at once to destroy the captured waggons. Having examined the post-house to ascertain that no enemies lurked within, he set fire to the leading waggons; and, upon his way to the river to destroy the remainder, he came upon the overturned carriage, near which he found the colonel’s family, with Higson and the midshipmen. The colonel expressed his pleasure at seeing him, and informed him that he was on his way to visit an estate, remote from the seat of war, in the eastern parts of the country, when he heard that some English officers and seamen who had been made prisoners were in the neighbourhood, and that on visiting them he discovered that they belonged to the Tornado. Upon making application to the governor of the district, he had succeeded in obtaining the release of the officers on their parole, though the men had to continue in charge of their guard. “I am afraid, therefore,” he added, “that I cannot restore the former to you, unless you choose to consider me your prisoner.”

“As you are a non-combatant at present, we certainly cannot capture you or your family,” answered Jack; “but with regard to my lieutenant and the two midshipmen, I am somewhat in doubt whether or not to do so.”

Greatly to Jack’s surprise, Higson and Tom both expressed their decided opinion that as men of honour they ought to remain; though Archie seemed much less confident on the subject.

“We’ll get your carriage on its wheels and then think about this matter, colonel,” said Jack; “and if you will send your coachman to bring back the runaway postillions and their steeds, we will escort you across the river, and see you on your journey to the eastward.”

As there were no enemies to contend with, the plan proposed by Jack was quickly carried into execution; the horses were brought back; the carriage, which was an old-fashioned family coach, had not received much damage. Jack consulted Adair as to how he should act towards the lieutenant and midshipmen.

“As they are in our power, we are bound to lay hands on them whether they like it or not,” answered Adair; “if they go unwillingly, their parole is not broken;” whereupon Jack told Higson and the midshipmen that they must consider themselves under arrest, and prepare to return in the boats to their ship.

On hearing this, both the young ladies began to evince signs of agitation.

“Surely you are not going to take away Lieutenant Higson!” exclaimed Ivanowna.

“You cannot be so cruel as to carry off our dear Tom!” cried Feodorowna.

“We had all sorts of pleasant schemes to make them contented during their exile,” added Ivanowna.

“I must be very hard-hearted, and perform my duty,” answered Jack.

It was pretty clear that both Higson and Tom had no objection to remaining, but he was firm; though Archie seemed happy enough to get back.

“I’ll tell you how it is,” he whispered to Desmond; “the first lieutenant and Tom are spooney on the young ladies; it is my belief that they expect to marry them some day. The colonel and his wife seem to have taken a great fancy to Higson.”

“Oh, oh!” said Jack; “that makes it doubly important to keep them out of harm’s way.”

In vain the young ladies again and again pleaded, supported by their mamma and the colonel; Jack was inexorable. The remains of the waggons burnt on the banks of the river having been cleared away, the colonel’s carriage was escorted to the ferry-boat, which conveyed it across to the opposite bank. Here, however, so many more waggons had been destroyed that some time was spent before it could proceed. Higson and the midshipmen now got leave to pay their farewells to the ladies. Ivanowna could with difficulty restrain her feelings, as the gallant lieutenant approached to shake hands; and Archie declared to Desmond that he heard him vowing unalterable affection, and making a promise that as soon as the war was over he would come back and marry her, with her parents’ permission.

The more impulsive Feodorowna threw her arms round Tom’s neck and kissed him on both cheeks. He, in return, made the same promise as his lieutenant, with a proviso that he should obtain his papa’s permission.

“All right,” said Jack, when he heard of it; “he’s very safe.”

A considerable amount of damage had been inflicted, but the waggons proved only to be a leading detachment, a second and larger portion being some miles in the rear, and they, getting timely notice of the raid of the English, retreated to a safe distance. The commodore, receiving information that troops with some field-pieces were advancing, prudently conducted his boats down the river, to avoid an engagement which could have produced no satisfactory results.

Tom Rogers was at first very much downcast, but in the company of his old friends quickly regained his spirits; and he and Archie were loud in their praises of the hospitality with which they had been treated. Higson did not say much, but Jack could not help suspecting that he no longer relished being engaged in hostile operations against the countrymen of his charmer. He confessed as much: “Still, you’ve known me long enough to be sure that though it may be against the grain, I’ll do my duty whatever happens.”

Higson kept to his word, and no man was more active in the operations which soon afterwards took place off Gheisk, Vodnia, and Glofira. Strange as it may seem, considering that the places had before been attacked, the Russians had accumulated along the shore in their neighbourhood enormous rows of stacks, several miles in extent. They had, however, four thousand troops to protect their property, while they were aware of the small force possessed by the English, who could not muster more than two hundred men for boat service. The larger vessels, from want of water, had to remain in the offing, while the gunboats towed the other boats as near as possible to the shore, and then covered them by their heavy fire. They pulled in, when their crews, springing to land, drove back the enemy, and set fire to the stacks in succession; proving that it is much easier to commit harm than to prevent it.

These attacks being made simultaneously at different points, so distracted the enemy, that they knew not in which direction to proceed; scarcely had the flames burst out at one point than they saw fires blazing up at several others. The stores at Vodnia and Glofira having been destroyed, the squadron proceeded off Gheisk. Here, for full four miles, stacks of corn and hay were arranged close to the water’s edge; while under the protection of the forts around the town were vast piles of timber, cured fish, naval stores, and a number of boats. Here again the shallowness of the water prevented the larger vessels from approaching; even the gunboats could not get in nearer than long range; such boats as could carry heavy guns, being distributed in four divisions, were sent in to cover the landing-parties in the smaller boats, about a mile from each other. As they approached, they saw that the Russians had thrown up light breastworks along their front, from which they kept up an unremitting fire on their invaders. Fortunately the wind blew on shore, and carried the smoke from their own and the British guns in their faces; the landing-parties, rapidly advancing, sprang on shore, and, dashing with bayonet and cutlass over the Russian breastworks, speedily put the enemy to flight.

The stacks along the whole of the line, being simultaneously lighted, blew so dense a cloud of smoke into the eyes of the Russians, that, though they rallied and opened a hot fire, they were unable to take aim or ascertain what their persevering foes were about. In six hours every stack, as well as the timber and naval stores and boats, were destroyed, with no other loss to the British than five men wounded.

These proceedings, unheroic as they might appear, tended greatly to bring the war to a conclusion. The Flash, with several other vessels, had in the meantime been despatched to different parts of the coast to carry on a similar work. Tom had a short time before been sent to serve on board her. After he had been brought back to the Tornado, he appeared a changed being; unless when compelled, he spoke to no one except Higson, and they two seemed to have much interesting conversation together. Jack observed it, and came to the very natural conclusion that Tom was over head and ears in love with the Russian colonel’s daughter; he consulted Murray on the subject.

“Send him on board the Flash,” was Murray’s answer; “Adair and young Desmond will soon knock all that sort of nonsense out of him. It never does for midshipmen to be falling in love; it is bad enough for a lieutenant—except under some circumstances,” added Murray, recollecting how both he and Jack had acted.

“At all events my father would not approve of his marrying a Russian, even putting her religion out of the question,” said Jack.

The Flash being in company at the time, Jack pulled on board her and soon arranged the matter with Adair, who very readily consented to take charge of Tom. That young gentleman was somewhat astonished at finding that he was thus to be disposed of, but he could not venture to expostulate with his commander, even though that commander was his brother. With a deep sigh he wished Higson good-bye.

“Perhaps if you are sending a letter on shore you will put in a word from me to Feodorowna, and assure her that I shall ever be faithful,” said Tom.

“As to that, Tom, I don’t think there is much chance that I shall have an opportunity of writing to anyone living in the enemy’s country,” answered Higson, who could not help perceiving the absurdity of the thing. “You, with the interest you possess, have certain prospects of promotion, and you will be giving them all up, and be separated from your family, if you were to marry a Russian and settle down in this part of the world. My case is very different; I have no interest—am getting on in life, and shall probably not get my next step till I am old enough to retire from the service. The young lady has, I’ll allow, a fancy for you, but she’ll soon get over it; and if I ever come out and marry her sister, I’ll persuade her that it is the best thing she can do.”

Tom did not quite fancy this advice, but, like many another midshipman, he had to grin and bear it; and was two minutes afterwards proceeding with his chest on board the Flash. Gerald welcomed him warmly, and, having received the cue from Adair, said not a word for some time about the fair Feodorowna. The Flash being actively engaged, Tom had plenty of work, and very little time to think about his lady-love. His conscience was not at all troubled when he was sent in to burn stacks of corn and hay, and other Government property; indeed, had he been so, as he had heard Jack observe that by doing so the war would be the sooner brought to a conclusion, he would have considered that he was doing what would be well pleasing to the colonel and his family.

Although Adair thought Tom a goose for falling in love, he yet placed great confidence in his gallantry and discretion. The Flash had been sent to the eastern end of the Sea of Azov. She was cruising one day close inshore, when her commander observed a fort which mounted six guns, but could see no gunners to fight them. He accordingly came to the conclusion that they had been withdrawn to garrison Taganrog, or some other important fortress.

“We must have those guns,” observed Adair. “I intend sending you, Rogers, and Desmond, in to-night to bring them off, should I find, as I suspect, that they are undefended,” he said to Tom. “You will be supplied with a scaling-ladder, with which you can take a peep in and ascertain the state of affairs. If there are only three or four soldiers, you must secure them; then shut the gates of the fort, to prevent anyone getting in, while you hoist the guns into the boat.”

Tom and Gerald were delighted with the thoughts of the proposed expedition, and undertook faithfully to carry out their commander’s orders. The Flash continued steaming on till she was out of sight of the fort, when, as soon as it was dark, her head was put inshore, and she ran back to within a short distance of the fort Tom and Gerald were ordered to burn a blue light should they require assistance, but if not, to carry out the work as quietly as possible.

“You may trust us, sir,” they said, as they stepped into the gig, which had a crew of six hands, and a supply of tackles for lowering the guns.

“This is just the sort of fun I like,” observed Tom, as they were pulling for the shore.

“Much better than sighing your breath out for the Russian damsel,” answered Desmond; “I am sure of that.” It was the first time he had ventured to touch on the delicate subject.

“What, have you heard about my little affair?” asked Tom; “I suppose, then, the whole fleet have been talking about it?”

“Don’t trouble yourself as to that,” whispered Desmond; they were both speaking in a low voice, so that neither their own men nor the enemy could hear them; “however, it is time, unless we want to be discovered, to clap a stopper on our jaw-tackles.”

“You are right,” said Tom; “we shall soon be up to the fort.” They pulled on till they came under the walls, which rose sheer out of the water. Landing on one side, and leaving a couple of hands in the boat, they carried the scaling-ladder to a wall which offered a fair prospect of their being able to mount to the top. Tom claimed the post of honour for himself, the rest of the party being prepared to mount as soon as he should summon them. The instant after the ladder was placed he was on the top of it. On looking down, not a human being could he see, either awake or asleep. Making the signal to his companions, they speedily followed him, and dropped down noiselessly into the fort.

Their first care, as ordered, was to secure the gate; and then, lighting their lanterns, they began to search the various chambers in the fort. They had not gone far when they heard voices from what appeared to be a guard-house. “At all events, we shall have no great difficulty in securing them,” said Tom. As they opened the door, they found four soldiers, a flagon of vodka before them, and their heads resting on the table.

They were excessively astonished to find their arms seized by a party of Englishmen, who signified by their gestures that the less noise they made the better. They were then lashed to their seats, and almost immediately afterwards dropped off to sleep again.

“At all events, we are not likely to meet with much opposition,” said Tom; “though, if we had had some fighting, we might have gained more credit.”

No other persons being found in the fort, they immediately set to work to unship the guns and to lower them down into the boat, which was brought under the wall for the purpose. They were of brass, and not very heavy considering their size, but it was soon found that three were as many as the gig could carry. Having secured these, they pulled back to the Flash, which now stood in as close as she could venture, when they returned for the other three. They looked in as they arrived at the drunken garrison, who were still fast asleep and unconscious of what was taking place. The remaining guns were then removed as the first had been.

“Faith, those Russian fellows will be astonished when they wake to-morrow morning and find themselves minus their guns,” exclaimed Gerald, laughing.

“I only hope that they won’t be shot in consequence,” said Tom. “I think we ought to have left a notice of the way we surprised the fort, with a request that the brave garrison may not be punished.”

On returning to the ship, they received due commendation from their commander for the way in which their exploit had been performed. The next day Adair himself determined to undertake a still more hazardous expedition, very similar to that in which Tom and Desmond had been captured. He had to proceed north, two miles from the coast, to the banks of a river, where he burned a large number of stacks. On his return he was chased by a body of Cossacks; he fortunately got within fire of his men in the boats just as the Cossacks were up to him. He acknowledged on getting on board that he had never had a harder run in his life.

Thoroughly knocked up, he turned in, leaving orders that the ship should be kept along the coast, so as to draw off their attention from other places which were to be attacked. Adair was in a deeper sleep than a commander under such circumstances generally ventures to enjoy, when suddenly he was startled by a shock, accompanied by an ominous grating sound, the meaning of which he too painfully knew.

“The ship’s on shore!” he exclaimed to himself, starting up and with the practised rapidity of a seaman putting on his clothes. An officer entering his cabin, he found his worst apprehensions realised. The Flash had struck on a reef, not a quarter of a mile from the beach. He was on deck in a moment; the hands were turned up, and the boats immediately lowered to lay out an anchor astern to haul her off. The day was just breaking, and as the light increased rocks were seen inside of the ship, with a sandy beach and a wide extent of level country.

In vain the officers and crew exerted themselves; the tide had been falling, and every instant made the task of getting the ship off more difficult. Adair had once before lost his ship under circumstances when the best of seamanship could not have saved her; but he now felt that she had been got on shore by inexcusable carelessness, and this thought made him inclined to become almost frantic. He restrained his temper and feelings, however, in a wonderful way for an Irishman, and with perfect coolness bent all his energies to the task of getting her off. His first lieutenant was on the sick list; the second had a short time before been relieved by a mate who somewhat resembled Mr Mildmay, without the sterling qualities of that officer, and for the sake of being better able, as he thought, to examine the coast, had kept the ship just a point or two, as he said, to the northward of the course given to him. However, had he even steered directly for the shore the commander was answerable, Terence knew too well.

In vain the crew laboured away at the capstan till the hawser was taut as a fiddle-string; not an inch would the ship budge. The master suggested that by heaving the guns and stores overboard she might be got off.

“And perhaps even then we might stick fast, or before she is afloat the enemy might make his appearance and find us at his mercy,” answered the commander; “no, no—we’ll keep our teeth, and show them too, to some effect, as long as the ship holds together.”

Tom and Desmond were not very complimentary to the stupid old mate who had been the cause of the disaster. Tom, who was acting as signal-midshipman, had been for some time examining the shore, when he caught sight of some figures moving along in the distance. Presently, as they approached, he could see that they formed a small body of Cossack cavalry; two of them galloped on ahead, till they got near enough to ascertain the condition of the ship. A shot from one of her long guns, though it missed them, sent them to the right-about, and the whole body soon afterwards disappeared. No long time, however, had elapsed when they were again discerned coming in the direction of the ship, accompanied by a body of infantry and several field-pieces.

“We must be ready for those fellows,” observed Terence, “and do our best to dismount their guns.”

While one portion of the crew were sent to their quarters, the others were kept employed in endeavouring to haul off the ship. On came the infantry, looking out for such imperfect shelter as could be found on the coast; and the guns, which had remained some way behind them, opened their fire on the ship. They were not ill served, and their shot fell pretty thickly about her. Terence immediately ordered his guns to be fired in return, when the Cossacks, wheeling about, retired to a safe distance.

“I can’t say much for the gunnery of those fellows,” said Tom; “not a shot has struck us yet.”

“Wait a bit, my boy,” answered Desmond; “they’ll get the range presently. It’s more easy for them to hit a big object like our ship, than it is for us to reach those little gimcracks of guns.”

The Russian riflemen having in the meantime advanced, their bullets kept whistling through the air, close to the heads of the crew, who, however, took no more notice of them than had they been pellets from pop-guns. At last a shot from the Flash struck the earth directly in front of one of the Russian guns, which at the same instant was fired, and the next, when the dust and smoke had cleared away, it was seen upset with its carriage broken, and several gunners lying stretched on the earth on either side of it. The other guns, however, still kept their position, and fired away as briskly as before.

“They’ll be after getting tired of that,” observed Desmond, “if we can manage to send another of our pills down their throats like the last.”

The firing was kept up for some time on both sides without intermission, no apparent effect being produced on the enemy, while the ship was frequently hulled by their shot. Still Adair did not despair of getting her off, and as soon as the tide began to rise, he set to work with renewed energy. He and his crew seemed to bear charmed lives; for though the shot caught the rigging above their heads, and came plunging into the ship’s side, not one of them had been hit.

“There’s a fresh body of the enemy coming down, sir,” said Tom, pointing to the north-east.

“If they are only Cossacks they’ll not harm us,” answered Adair, taking a look in the direction Tom pointed through his telescope. “I am not quite certain about that same,” he observed to his first lieutenant.

“They appear to me to be artillery,” answered that officer.

In a few minutes more this became evident; up came the officers, galloping at full speed, with four more guns.

“They are not of very heavy metal, or they would not come along so fast,” observed Adair. “We’ll be ready for them,” and he ordered one of the after-guns to be trained so as to give them a warm reception as soon as they came within range. As they approached, however, the guns separated, and took up positions a considerable distance from each other, while those which had already been engaged followed their example.

This, of course, increased the difficulties of the Flash, as each of her guns could only engage one opponent at a time. Her heavy sixty-eight pivot-gun was, however, worked with such rapidity and skill that the enemy were frequently compelled to abandon their guns, and many of their men and horses were killed. Still fresh horses were brought up to move them to new positions, not allowing the crew of the Flash a moment of rest from their labours. Every time one of their shot was seen to tell with effect they cheered lustily; and as they worked away they seemed to enjoy the fun, laughing and joking as if no round-shot and bullets were whistling through the air near their ears.

The master had just reported that the water had risen another inch, and Adair had begun to entertain fresh hopes of getting the ship, ere long, afloat, when the smoke of a steamer was seen in the offing.

“I hope she’s the Tornado or Giaour,” observed Desmond; “they’ll be for sending the boats on shore and putting the enemy to the rout.”

Adair naturally hoped pretty much the same, but, on consideration, he could not help suspecting that the ship in sight was the Anaconda, commanded by Commander Allport, his superior officer, for whom, on account of previous circumstances which need not just now be mentioned, he had no special regard.

“At all events, he is a brave fellow, and will stand by me,” he said to himself.

As the stranger drew near, Adair found that his surmises were correct. He had, in the meantime, been continuing his efforts to get the Flash afloat, the crew working away as energetically as at first.

“She’s the Anaconda, sir,” said Tom, who had been watching the signals as they appeared at the masthead of the approaching vessel.

“Say the ship’s ashore, but I hope to get her off, and beg Anaconda to stand in and support me,” said Adair.

The signals were hoisted. It was possible that the wreaths of smoke which circled round the ship might have prevented them from being seen clearly. The enemy continued firing away at her as if hoping to secure her destruction before support could reach her, while her crew worked her guns with the same ardour as before. Adair calculated that, in another hour, she would be afloat, perhaps in less time. The Anaconda stood in nearer, and began again to make signals. Adair looked over the signal-book.

“It can’t be that!” he exclaimed, as he read, “Abandon ship, and come on board me with your crew.”

“There must be some mistake,” he added in an undertone. “I wish that I was blind of one eye and not able to see it. Answer it,” he said at length, “‘Before we quit the ship, we’ll try what we can do.’”

With reluctant heart he gave the order to heave the pivot-gun overboard, taking care to secure a buoy to it, hoping that he might yet get it up. The engine was set going, once more the capstan was manned, but still the Flash did not move.

“If that Commander Allport would stand in like a true man and lend us a hand, we might get off even now,” exclaimed Desmond. “Arrah, my poor uncle, ’twill be after breaking his heart to leave the barkey here.”

The Anaconda now fired a gun and made fresh signals, ordering Adair immediately to quit the ship. The boats, all of which had escaped injury, were hoisted out, and the crew were ordered to leave the ship they had fought so bravely. Adair was the last man to quit her.

“Well, I am the most unfortunate fellow alive!” he exclaimed.

He was thinking of Lucy and his promotion stopped, and all the other unpleasant consequences of the loss of his ship. The only thing which kept up his spirits was the hope that he might persuade Commander Allport to stand in and make fresh efforts to get her afloat. It was a wonder none of the boats were struck as they left the ship. They, however, at length succeeded in getting on board the Anaconda. Commander Allport, who was standing on deck, received Adair with a supercilious air. He had been many years a lieutenant, and his temper had been considerably soured before he had got his promotion; indeed, some of those whom he had known as midshipmen were now admirals, and he seemed to take especial pleasure in acting in a dictatorial manner towards all those under him.

“Well, Commander Adair,” he observed, as Terence stepped on deck, “you have made a pretty business of this somehow or other; young officers are, however, not always the best navigators, and the Flash has been lost to Her Majesty’s Service. It won’t bring much credit on those concerned.”

Adair bit his lip, but, though ready enough to retort, he wisely restrained his temper, and answered, “If you will let me have your boats, or will stand in and give us a tow while we keep the enemy at bay, we may get the Flash off before many hours are over; she has not a shot-hole in her to signify, as we plugged them all as soon as they were received.”

“Impossible, Commander Adair,” answered his superior officer; “the only thing we can do is to prevent the Flash from falling into the enemy’s hands. I cannot uselessly expose the lives of my crew in so hopeless an undertaking. Those who have the advantage of experience know that it is the duty of an officer to watch with a father’s care over his people. We’ll stand in closer, and then see what is to be done.”

Adair still urged the possibility of saving the Flash.

“I am your superior officer, and it is my duty to act as I think fit, without taking your opinion,” answered Commander Allport.

Adair turned away with no very affectionate feeling in his heart towards his “superior officer.”

The Anaconda stood on till, when still at a safe distance from the enemy’s shot, she brought her broadside to bear upon the unfortunate little Flash, and commenced practising with her heavy guns. A groan escaped from Adair’s bosom, echoed by many others from his crew, as he saw one huge missile after another strike his devoted craft, and in a short time commit more mischief than the enemy had inflicted on her during the gallant fight he had waged for so many hours.

“We must take care, should she fall into the hands of the Russians, that she is reduced to an utter wreck,” observed Commander Allport.

“You are certainly setting about the right way to make her so,” observed Adair.

He even now was strongly inclined to urge the old martinet to desist, as he saw shot after shot strike the hull of his vessel. The enemy, seeing that the English were engaged in destroying her, wisely saved their own powder by ceasing to fire, and allowed them to finish the work which they had commenced.

While the Anaconda was thus employed, another vessel hove in sight, steaming up from the westward.

“She’s the Giaour,” observed Commander Allport, looking at the signal-book; “Murray will assist us in knocking her to pieces.”

“I very much doubt whether he will do anything of the sort,” answered Adair, unable to restrain himself; “I only wish he had come an hour ago, to save her from destruction.”

“You are forgetting our relative positions, Commander Adair,” observed Commander Allport, beginning now to fume.

“I only expressed my opinion that Murray would not have tried to knock the Flash to pieces, till he had assisted me in making further efforts to get her off,” answered Adair; “and I only ask you to desist from firing till you have his opinion.”

Now Commander Allport did not recollect that Murray was his senior. The latter had been promoted a few weeks before him, and would have power to decide the question. Instead of desisting, however, he directed his guns so as to concentrate their fire upon one portion of the Flash, thus more completely to ruin her. Adair knew that it would be useless to plead any longer; his only regret was that he had obeyed his superior officer’s command, and quitted the vessel, instead of remaining on board and taking the consequences. Had he remained he felt that he would certainly have run the risk of censure for disobeying orders, but he would have saved his ship, and that alone would have proved a sufficient excuse had Commander Allport brought him to a court-martial; which it was very likely he would not have dared to do. Terence consoled himself with the reflection that he had fought his ship gallantly, and would have continued to fight her till she had been knocked to pieces, and that he had acted in obedience to the orders of a superior in quitting her.

“Well,” he said to himself, “as Murray always used to advise, ‘Do right and take the consequences.’ I have done right in obeying, but the consequences are not less unpleasant. I shall be reprimanded for losing my ship, and shall be sent on shore with a black mark against my name, and all my prospects in the service ruined; and Sir John will be less likely than ever to allow me to marry Lucy. I am the most unfortunate fellow alive.” This was about the twentieth time poor Terence had uttered the expression since he had been compelled to leave the Flash. As long as he continued on her deck, fighting her bravely, he had not cared half so much about her having run on shore; besides which, he had never abandoned the hope of getting her off. So completely did his feelings run away with him that he even began to contemplate, though his calmer moments would have forbidden him doing so, the idea of calling out Commander Allport, as the only way of avenging the injury he had received; but he, happily, had strength to banish the thought almost as soon as it was conceived, and, walking to the other side of the ship, he anxiously watched the approach of the Giaour.

As soon as she drew near, he ordered his gig, and, without holding any further communication with Commander Allport, pulled on board her.

“Why, Adair, what have you been doing with the Flash?” asked Murray, as he sprang up the side. Terence briefly explained what had happened, and declared his conviction that the ship might have been saved by the adoption of proper measures.

“Instead of that, old Allport is expending powder and shot in making a target of her, for no earthly reason beyond that of showing that he is my superior officer, though of equal rank. I wish to goodness he had been laid on the shelf, the only position he is fit for.”

“We must try what can be done,” said Murray. “Happily, I am his superior officer, which he will find out by looking at the Navy List, if he does not know it already;” and Murray directed a signal to be made to the Anaconda to “Cease firing.” Commander Allport, who still had not discovered that Murray was his superior, was at first inclined to pay no attention to the signal; till his first lieutenant, happening to know the true state of the case, brought him a Navy List, and pointed out to him Murray’s date of promotion.

“The old fellow is in the wrong box,” whispered Desmond, he having observed what was taking place; “there’s a chance after all for the little barkey.”

“Cease firing,” cried Commander Allport. Directly afterwards Murray sent his second lieutenant to the Anaconda, with a request that the commander would come on board his ship to consult with him as to the best means of saving Her Majesty’s ship Flash, now in sight on the rocks. The request, of course, amounted to an order, which Commander Allport, however unwillingly, obeyed.

“Save her?” he exclaimed; “surely you mean destroy her as soon as possible. I have done my best for the last two hours to knock her to pieces.”

“I am very sorry to hear it,” answered Murray; “we should never abandon a vessel while there is the slightest hope of saving her; and the enemy might easily have been kept at a sufficient distance to prevent them from interfering with us, when getting her off. I must ask you to stand in towards the shore, as close as you can venture, and keep the enemy in check with your guns.”

For the first time for some hours Adair’s heart began again to beat with hope, as the two steamers, with the lead going and a bright look-out kept ahead, stood towards the shore. The artillery were seen to limber-up and gallop off, while the infantry scampered away, as fast as they could go, to a safe distance; judging correctly that as they had made no material impression upon a single ship, they were unlikely to impede the proceedings of two.

Murray, accompanied by Adair, and followed by the whole of the boats of the Flash, immediately pulled on board her. Groans, and expressions which were certainly not groans, however much they were like growls, proceeded from the crew, as they observed the damage committed by the Anaconda’s shot. A very brief inspection satisfied Murray and Adair that she was too completely ruined to allow of any hope that she could be got off.

“It can’t be helped,” exclaimed poor Terence; “the only thing now to be done is to prevent her falling into the hands of the enemy. I would sooner have gone down in her to the bottom of this wretched pool than this should have happened. We must blow her up; I know it—I am the most unhappy fellow alive—I shall never get another ship, and Lucy is farther off than ever.”

“We must set her on fire, of course, or the enemy will boast that they have captured her; but as to any blame being attached to you personally at a court-martial, I don’t believe it,” answered Murray, in a tone calculated to soothe the feelings of his friend. “From what I see, I am pretty sure that, had old Allport not taken it into his head to knock her to pieces, we should have got her off and put her to rights in a few hours. The side exposed to the enemy is but slightly damaged, and he allows that you must have fought her bravely, and that he only ordered you to desert her for the sake of preserving the lives of you and her crew. The first thing, however, we have to do is to weigh her guns.”

Murray, having formed his plans, summoned the larger boats of the squadron, when, after much labour, the guns were weighed, and conveyed on board the Giaour. The Russian troops had taken their departure, and a good many parties of the peasantry were seen on the shore, spectators of what was going on, probably hoping that the wreck would be deserted, and that they should find a rich booty on board her. They were to be disappointed. Now came the scene most trying to Adair; everything of value, and that time would allow, was removed; the Flash was set on fire, and the boats pulled away, leaving her in flames fore and aft.

“There goes our little barkey,” exclaimed Desmond; and in a short time she blew up, covering the sea on every side with the fragments of wreck. “I am glad, Tom, it was not you or I got her on shore; I don’t envy old Fusty his feelings, if he’s got any; perhaps he hasn’t. If Uncle Terence doesn’t get a ship, he’ll be for cutting the service and going out and settling in Australia; and I intend to go with him, to keep sheep and ride after wild cattle, and lead an independent sort of life. I say, Tom, won’t you come too?”

“Oh no; I am bound to come out here, and marry my little Feodorowna,” answered Tom; “though perhaps she’d like to come out to Australia with me.”

“You be hanged, Tom! that’s all nonsense,” answered Desmond. “I thought you had forgotten all about that affair.”

“Of course not!” exclaimed Tom indignantly; “if she’s faithful to me, I am bound to be faithful to her.”

“Always provided Sir John approves of your faithfulness,” put in Desmond.

“Let’s change the subject,” said Tom. “It’s time that you and I and Gordon should pass for seamanship, and as soon as we go home we shall get through the college and gunnery, and then, I hope, before long get our promotion.”

Castles in the air erected by midshipmen are apt to fall to pieces, as well as those built by older persons. They serve, however, to amuse their architects, and after all, as they do not exhaust the strength or energy, are not productive of any harm.

The squadron continued their depredations along the coast, till not a Russian vessel, or any craft larger than a cock-boat, remained afloat, and every storehouse and stack of corn or hay which could be got at by the British seamen had been destroyed. As no private property was intentionally injured, these proceedings produced scarcely the slightest ill-will among the inhabitants, though they might have thought the perpetrators somewhat impious for thus daring to offend their sacred Emperor. History tells how gallantly the naval brigade behaved before Sebastopol, and how at length, the night before that proud fortress fell, the Russians sank their remaining line-of-battle ships; and how the English and French admirals, to prevent a single keel from escaping, placed their fleets across the mouth of the harbour, when the garrison, despairing of saving even their steamers, set them on fire with their own hands; and after proud Sebastopol had fallen, how Kinburn, not far from the mouths of the Boug and the Dnieper, a strong casemated fort, armed with seventy heavy guns, supported by well-made earthworks, each furnished with ten guns more, was attacked by the combined fleets. Its best defence, however, existed in the shallowness of the surrounding water and the intricacy of the navigation, so that ships of the line could not approach it; while the smaller vessels ran the risk of getting on shore when attempting to do so.

The fleet consisted of between thirty and forty steam-vessels, and numerous transports conveying four thousand troops. The French had as many troops, but fewer ships of war; among them, however, were three newly-invented floating batteries, from which the Emperor Napoleon expected, it was said, great things. Difficult as was the navigation, every inch of ground was well known to the commanders of the fleets, it having been thoroughly surveyed by Captain Spratt of the Spitfire.

Early on the morning of the 15th the troops were thrown on shore, to the south of the principal fort, when they immediately entrenched their position, to cut off the retreat of the garrison. The next day proving too rough for the ships to co-operate with the troops, the attack was postponed; but on the 17th the work was begun in earnest by the English mortar-boats, which first opened fire on the devoted fort. The French floating batteries followed suit, throwing their shot and shell with effective precision, while the enemy’s round-shot dropped harmless from their iron sides, their shells shivering against them like glass. After this game had been carried on for about a couple of hours, the ships of the line stood in on the southern side of the forts, till they got within twelve hundred yards.

“Now comes our turn!” exclaimed Jack Rogers to Adair, who was serving as a volunteer on board the Tornado, which ship, following close astern of the Giaour, formed one of a large squadron of steamers which had been directed to approach the forts on the northern side.

The two squadrons reached their destined positions at the same time, when they both opened a tremendous fire, literally raining down shot and shell upon the hapless garrison. Stubborn as were the Russians, human endurance could not long withstand such a fire.

“Faith, I’m very glad I’m not inside those walls,” said Gerald to Tom, as they watched the effects of their shot, hundreds of shells bursting in the air together, and raining down fragments of iron on the heads of the unfortunate garrison; “if each round-shot and shell only kills a single man, there won’t be one left alive in the course of a few minutes.”

“Fortunately, I fancy that it takes fully five shot to kill a man,” answered Tom, though he may not have been perfectly correct in his estimate.

“I should doubt if even a cat could escape, unless she hid herself in a cellar,” said Desmond; “it is tremendous.”

His last remark correctly described the scene; from the two lines there issued, without intermission, flashes and wreaths of smoke, each denoting the passage of an engine of destruction against the fortress; the shells forming continuous arches in the air, the shot flying with more direct aim, till the whole atmosphere became filled with dense clouds of smoke, amid which the walls of the fort and dark hulls of the ships, with their masts and rigging, could only be indistinctly seen. At the end of ten minutes there appeared, in a conspicuous part of the fort, a white flag. In an instant, as if by magic, the wild uproar ceased, and the only sounds heard were the cheers of the seamen at their speedily-gained victory.

The admirals at once proceeded on shore, when the governor and his officers, coming out of the fort, presented their swords, which were politely returned to them, when a French garrison was left in the fort. Two generals and a large staff of officers thus became prisoners, besides which a large number of guns, ammunition, and stores were captured.

As the Government still held out, the fleet proceeded to the attack of Oczakov, but, greatly to the disappointment of the allies, the Russians evacuated it, and blew it up. This was almost the last action of any consequence during the war; though the Mosquito fleet still continued their depredations on the shores of the Sea of Azov till the winter compelled them to retire, when, before the return of spring, peace with Russia was concluded.

Chapter Twenty Two.

Adair acquitted for Loss of Flash—Appointed to Gleam—The Tornado in the Bosphorus—Arrival of Herr Groben—Higson obtains Leave of Absence—Tom asks for it, and is sent on board Gleam—Higson Promoted—His Marriage with the Fair Russian—Ball on board the Tornado—The Gleam in a Storm—Tom and Adair lost overboard—Desmond’s Grief—The Admiral’s Home—Appearance of the Missing Ones—Joy of the Admiral—Adair narrates their Adventures—Jack and Adair married—Generosity of Admiral Triton.

Antecedent to the events mentioned in the last chapter, one of considerable importance to Terence Adair occurred. He had to undergo a court-martial for the loss of the Flash. She had been run on shore, of that there was no doubt; but when there he had fought her with the greatest gallantry, and had done his utmost to get her off. The result of the investigation was that, having been admonished for the loss of his ship, his sword was returned to him.

“Really, my dear Adair, I don’t think you need break your heart about the matter,” said Jack to him when he returned on board the Tornado, which he had joined as a volunteer; Tom and Desmond were already on board her. “Depend upon it, it won’t stand in the way of your getting another ship or promotion. I hear that the admiral highly approves of your conduct, and that he has stated he will give you solid proof of his opinion as soon as a vacancy occurs.”

These remarks raised poor Terence’s spirits, and he wrote a very hopeful letter to Admiral Triton, which he hoped might be shown to Lucy rather than the one he had penned some time previously. Still some weeks went by, and Adair remained without a ship; he at length got a cheery reply from his old friend in answer to his letter, urging him to keep up his courage, and prophesying that all would turn out well at last. “There is a young lady by my side who fully agrees with me, and who is as ready as I am to admire the gallant way in which you fought your ship, and to appreciate your merits, whether the Admiralty do so or not. I am the last man to advise a promising young officer to leave the service; but should you be compelled to come on shore, and turn your sword into a reaping-hook, I have made such arrangements as will enable you to do so without having to depend solely upon your pittance of half-pay,” wrote the admiral.

“What can the kind old man mean?” asked Terence, when he showed the letter to Jack.

Jack smiled. Perhaps he had heard something about the matter.

“It is evident that he has your interest at heart,” he answered, “and intends to give you substantial proof of his regard; however, my opinion is that you will not be laid on the shelf, and that if you remain out here the admiral will give you the first vacancy that occurs.”

Jack, was right; a few days afterwards, on the return of the Tornado to the fleet, the admiral sent for Adair, and, complimenting him on the gallant way in which he had fought the Flash, informed him that he was appointed to the Gleam, the commander of which had just been invalided home. Adair’s heart bounded as if a load had been taken off it. Without loss of time he went on board his new command. His natural wish was now to do something by which he might gain credit.

“Let me advise you, my dear fellow,” said Murray, who paid him a visit on board, “not to trouble yourself about that, but just go straight forward and do your duty, and you’ll gain all the credit you can desire in doing that.”

Terence followed his friend’s advice, and was warmly complimented by the admiral for his zeal and activity in carrying out the orders he had received, although he had done nothing to fill a page in history.

The Tornado was lying in the Golden Horn, having made her last trip to the Crimea, when a caique came alongside, an old gentleman in somewhat quaint costume seated in the stern. Green, who happened to be near the gangway, on looking down recognised his old German friend, Herr Groben. “Glad to see you,” he exclaimed, as he ran down to help him up the accommodation ladder.

“Ah, my friend Green, I am delighted to see you,” answered Herr Groben, shaking his hand warmly with both of his. “I come on a very delicate and important matter, and you can help me greatly.”

“Very glad to help you to do anything you wish,” answered Green, “provided it doesn’t amount to treason or petty larceny.”

“Ah, no, my friend, this is no treason,” answered the old tutor, looking over his shoulder as if he expected to see a Russian spy there; “it relates entirely to another sort of affair. You know that Mr Higson, the first lieutenant of this ship, fell in love with the eldest sister of my pupils; and, to confess to you the truth, the young lady fell in love with him, and she has been expecting now that the dreadful war is over that he would go back and claim her hand.”

“So I suppose he intends doing when the ship is paid off; but, till then, he is not his own master, and he could not get away however much he might wish it,” answered Green.

“Ah, Mademoiselle Ivanowna does not understand that sort of thing, and began so to pine and fret that she became very ill indeed; and, seeing her state, I volunteered to come to Constantinople, where I heard your ship was likely to be found, to bear a message to Lieutenant Higson; and I have been greatly anxious till I got on board lest the ship should have sailed away. Where is your first lieutenant, that I may deliver myself forth of my message?”

“For a wonder he has gone on shore,” answered Green, “but he will be off again soon; and, in the meantime, we will take good care of you; so come down at once into the gun-room, and we shall have luncheon on the table immediately.”

Herr Groben was warmly received by the officers when they heard who he was, and soon had out of him the whole history of the loves of Lieutenant Higson and the fair Ivanowna. Lieutenant Mildmay expressed his intention of writing it in verse; the doctor proposed their healths during luncheon, in conjunction with that of the Queen of England and the Emperor of Russia, now the best friends in the world. After luncheon, as Higson did not appear, Herr Groben expressed a wish to go round the ship, and Green at once offered to conduct him. As he was going round the lower deck, he popped his head into the midshipmen’s berth, when, whom should he see seated directly before him but Tom Rogers.

The recognition was mutual; Tom started up. “Oh, Herr Groben, I am delighted to see you!” he exclaimed. “Do tell me, how is Miss Feodorowna? Have you just come from there?”

“Not very long ago,” answered Herr Groben; “and I can tell you they have not forgotten you, and she told me if I saw you to give her very kind remembrances.”

“Is that all?” asked Tom.

“Of course,” exclaimed Paddy Desmond, who was seated in the berth; “what more could you expect from a young lady?”

“Then doesn’t she care about me?” cried Tom, forgetting that several of his messmates were within hearing, and that they were not likely to forget his question.

“As to that I must be discreet,” answered the old tutor, laughing; “if you ever come back to Russia in peaceable guise, not in one of your ships with big guns to batter down our forts, you may depend upon it. Colonel Paskiewich and his family will be very happy to see you.”

The conversation was cut short by Green, who had gone away, returning to conduct Herr Groben into the gun-room. Soon after he was seated there, Higson returned on board, little expecting whom he was to find. Though he had never been known to exhibit the slightest signs of nervousness, he looked excessively agitated on seeing the old tutor; who, after telling him that he had lately come from the family of Colonel Paskiewich, requested a private interview. The old German had evidently something of importance to communicate beyond what he had told Green. Higson’s agitation as he proceeded increased; he, however, at length came to a decision, and Herr Groben returned on shore, saying that he should expect to see him the next day.

When Jack, who had gone on board the Gleam to see Adair, just on the point of sailing for England, returned to his own ship, Higson begged to have a few minutes’ talk with him. Jack, of course, granted it, and, begging him to come into his cabin, sat down to listen to what he had to say.

“We have been shipmates a good many years, Commander Rogers, and I am going to ask a favour of you,” he began. “You know how I fell in love with a young lady in Russia, and she has fallen desperately in love with me, it seems. I don’t say it as a boast, and cannot account for it, and, what is more, her mother sends me word that she is dying for fear I should go away and forget her, or, at all events, not come back again. Now, I have no thoughts of doing anything of the sort; though the young lady may believe what I will write to her, I would rather give her practical evidence of my affection by paying her a visit at once. I could be there and back in a week or ten days, and if you could manage to give me leave for that period, I would run over and see them, and I trust that neither the service nor the ship will suffer from my absence.”

Jack reflected on the request made to him, and considering that Higson merited all the favour he could grant at his hands, and that the duty of the ship could be carried on in the meantime, gave him the leave he asked. Higson expressed himself very thankful, and set about making arrangements for his intended journey.

Scarcely had Higson left the cabin when Tom entered, and begged to have a few minutes’ conversation with his brother.

“What is it?” asked Jack.

Tom went into the whole story of the kind treatment he had received from the family of Colonel Paskiewich; “And you must know,” he continued, “that I fell in love with Miss Feodorowna, and promised to go back and marry her as soon as the war was over.”

“Really, Tom, I hope with the proviso that you should obtain the permission of Sir John,” remarked Jack.

“I don’t know about provisionally,” answered Tom; “I promised to go back and marry her as soon as peace was settled; and as you wouldn’t wish me to break my promise, I hope you will give me permission to do so at once.”

Jack burst into a loud fit of laughter.

“I’ll tell you what, Tom, I am much more likely to marry you to the gunner’s daughter,” he answered.

“That is very cruel treatment,” exclaimed Tom; “you’ll drive me to quit the service and expatriate myself for ever.”

Jack only laughed louder.

“Do you mean to say that you are going to deprive the country of your valuable services, bid farewell to your father and mother and sisters, or perhaps take service in the Russian navy, should they ever launch any fresh ships, and turn your sword against your countrymen, simply because I refuse to let you go and make a fool of yourself by marrying this little Russian girl? though my belief is that, even should I let you go, as soon as her father finds out that you haven’t a sixpence to bless yourself with, he’ll send you about your business with a flea in your ear. Come, Tom, think the matter over; you used to have some brains in your head, and I hope you have not left them all behind you in the Sea of Azov.”

Still Tom was obstinate; he really had a midshipman-like amount of attachment for Feodorowna, but though it was very disinterested and sincere and romantic, it was not the less foolish. Nothing Jack could say would induce him to promise to give up all thoughts of her, and to write a kind note pointing out the impossibility of their marrying, and bidding her farewell.

“She mayn’t see the impossibility of it,” answered Tom; “her father is the owner of thousands of acres, and country-houses, and serfs; and she told me that all he wanted was to get gentlemanly, intelligent sons-in-law, who could live in his houses and superintend the cultivation of his estates.”

“Well, well,” said Jack, “that doesn’t sound so badly; but still, you have no right at your age to go and marry without our father’s and mother’s sanction; and until you have got it I’ll be no party to your giving up the service and settling down for life in an out-of-the-way corner of Russia. With regard to Higson, the case is very different; he is twice your age, has very little prospect of promotion, and no friends that I know of to give up; besides which, I am pretty certain that nothing would induce him to take service in the Russian navy, with the chance of being employed against England.”

“I don’t see that our cases are so very different,” answered Tom; “and you may put me in irons, and do what you like, but I’ll not promise to give up Feodorowna, nor write the cruel letter you propose, to bid her farewell. There, you’ve got my answer, and I’ve in no way infringed the articles of war by saying that, though you are my commander.”

“I am not quite certain that you have not, by the tone in which you speak,” answered Jack; “however, I am very sorry for it, Tom, and warn you that as you are obstinate, I must take measures accordingly.”

What those measures were, Jack did not tell his brother. Having dismissed him, he sent for Dick Needham, and desired him to keep a watchful eye on the youngster, lest he might take French leave and quit the ship.

“Ay, ay, sir,” answered Dick; “though they’re not a bad sort of people in the main, I shouldn’t like Mr Tom to turn into a Russian—it won’t be my fault if he gives leg-bail.”

Satisfied on this point, Jack, ordering his gig, pulled on board the Gleam, which ship was to sail the next day for England. The Giaour had gone home some time before, and Murray hoped to pay her off and to be allowed to remain on shore with his beloved Stella. Jack explained his anxieties about Tom to Adair, who at once agreed to take him home, and not to lose sight of him till he had handed him over either to Admiral Triton or Sir John and Lady Rogers.

“Take him in the first instance to the admiral,” said Jack, “he will consider his opinion as less biassed than that of our father and mother, and be more likely to yield submission to it.”

On his return to the Tornado, Jack ordered Tom’s marine to pack up his chest, and have it lowered into his gig alongside; he then summoned Tom, and, allowing him to wish his messmates good-bye, told him to follow his chest. Tom looked, as he felt, very unhappy; Dicky Duff and Billy Blueblazes, especially, thought him a hardly-used individual—though his older messmates were more inclined to laugh than to sympathise with him. Adair received him on board in a very kind way, and Desmond acted the part of a true friend by listening to all he had to say—though he avoided giving him any encouragement, and when Tom declared his intention of making his escape in the first caique which came alongside, he warned him that he could not possibly succeed.

Next morning the Gleam steamed away down the Bosphorus. Tom had not been many hours at sea before he recovered his spirits, and was able to admire the beautiful scenery amid which the ship was steering her course.

Having now settled this matter to his satisfaction, Jack turned his attention to the affair of his first lieutenant. Higson’s interview with the old tutor had confirmed him in his resolution to abandon the service and marry Ivanowna; and Jack, though sorry to lose him, promised to do his best to forward his views. Jack gave him leave of absence, and Higson was engaged in packing up to accompany Herr Groben in a steamer which was to start the next day for the Crimea, when the commander of the Tornado was sent for on board the flagship. Greatly to his satisfaction, Jack found that he had to return to Balaclava on an affair relating to the evacuation of the place, and afterwards to visit other places to the eastward which had been captured by the allied squadrons and restored to the Russians.

“This is a most fortunate circumstance for you, Higson,” he said, when he returned on board; “you will have an opportunity of visiting your friends, and if you take my advice, you will go home in the ship, and, as I hope, obtain your promotion.”

Higson, thanking Jack, promised to be guided by circumstances. The Tornado had got her steam up, when the mail from England was signalled, and Jack waited for its arrival. He received several letters—one from his sister Mary, replete, as was usually the case in her letters, with scraps of news. The most important, as far as he himself was concerned, was that Julia Giffard was somewhat out of health, and that her father had taken her to Malta, where they intended to pass the winter. Sir John and Lady Rogers were as averse as ever to Lucy’s marriage with Adair, not from any objection to him, except on account of his want of means; and they were annoyed at the encouragement Admiral Triton and Miss Deborah appeared to have afforded the young people. The admiral had actually written to Sir John on the subject, but neither he nor Lady Rogers could understand his meaning, except that he thought him unwise in objecting to a fine promising young officer, who was certain if he remained in the service to become an admiral some day. “Poor Lucy is sadly perplexed about it,” said Mary; “she has given her heart to Adair, and is certainly not a person likely to bestow it on anyone else; so that her fate will be a hard one if she is not allowed to marry.” Sidney had returned home very much improved by his Crimean campaign, having dropped all his Guardsman’s airs, and become, Mary observed, very like Jack himself.

Jack would have been more deeply concerned about Julia, had he not received a letter from her, assuring him that the voyage had done her a great deal of good, and that she was looking forward to the happiness of seeing him shortly on his arrival at Malta. Murray had reached England, but, much to his disappointment, the Giaour had not been paid off, and he had been directed to hold himself in readiness to sail immediately. He spoke of the admiral as very much broken, while Mrs Deborah was also ailing. He could not sufficiently express his gratitude for the kindness with which the old people had treated Stella and his two children; she was still residing with them at Southsea—they insisted on their remaining there till his return, to which he had consented, as he hoped not to be long absent from home. “I shall then,” he said, “not seek for employment, and, as I have some hopes of my promotion, I may become an admiral some day. I had expected to have been back at Bercaldine and to have been able to receive you and Mrs Jack Rogers on your wedding tour; perhaps even now I may be home in time, and, at all events, my dear Jack, I look forward to the pleasure of seeing you and Terence Adair there as one of the greatest in this sublunary world.”

Jack had read his letters, when Higson entered the cabin, with an official-looking despatch in his hand.

“Congratulate me!” he exclaimed. “I have received what I little expected, my promotion; and, as there is small chance of my being employed, I think you will agree that I should be wise in taking advantage of the good fortune offered me.”

“I congratulate you heartily,” said Jack, “and I won’t say a word to dissuade you.”

Higson, after considerable trouble, succeeded in obtaining a commander’s full-dress uniform, with which he expressed himself highly delighted. He had just time to get on board when the Tornado steamed away for Balaclava, with the worthy tutor, to whom Jack had offered a passage on board. The duties with which he had been charged at Balaclava having been performed, Jack continued his course to the eastward, and the Tornado soon arrived off the fort with which he had had so gallant a contest. Jos Green having undertaken to carry the Tornado up the river as far as the depth of water would allow, she entered its mouth, keeping the lead going, and proceeded on at half speed till she came off Colonel Paskiewich’s house. Her approach had been perceived; gay flags, that of England being the highest, were hoisted on the flagstaff near the house, and numerous persons were seen collected at the landing-place.

Jack agreed to accompany Higson, who of course had put on his commander’s uniform, on shore; the two other boats followed with most of the officers, all in full-dress. The colonel was the first person to greet them. He welcomed them cordially, and invited the whole party up to the house, where the ladies sat ready to receive them. The eyes of the fair Ivanowna beamed with pleasure as they rested on the gallant commander, though she cast them down modestly as he approached to take her hand, which he lifted gallantly to his lips.

The eyes of poor little Feodorowna wandered in vain among the group of officers in the background in search of Tom, and her countenance fell on discovering that he was not among them. Unable to restrain her anxiety, she asked Herr Groben, who was compelled to inform her of the truth, on hearing which she burst into tears.

“How very, very cruel to send him away!” she exclaimed; “I don’t see why my sister’s lover should have been allowed to come and mine been sent off to England.”

Herr Groben tried to explain that the one was a commander, and the other only a midshipman; and that while one might be allowed to act as he thought fit, the other was still under the direction of his parents. Nothing, however, would comfort her; it had, however, the effect of making her look very interesting; and just at that moment any one of the officers would have been perfectly ready to take Tom’s place, especially Dicky Duff and Billy Blueblazes; indeed, they both determined to make her an offer in the course of the evening, and to toss up which should first do so. Perhaps the attention she received somewhat consoled her, for she soon dried her tears, and to all appearance became perfectly happy.

After a magnificent banquet, when the table literally groaned with viands of all descriptions, a dance was got up, several young ladies arriving from various houses in the neighbourhood, while for a couple of hours after it had begun, others, to whom notice of the coming of the English ship had been sent, arrived from greater distances. As a natural consequence, all the unmarried and unengaged officers lost their hearts to Russian young ladies, and it was said that Feodorowna received certainly two if not three offers before the evening was over. Jack, when he found the state of affairs, began to consider whether he had not made a mistake in coming to the place.

Not till morning dawned did they return on board. Honest Higson was, of course, the hero of the evening, and it was very evident, from the attention the colonel paid him, that he was well pleased with his intended son-in-law. At breakfast the next morning, Higson begged Jack to wait till his wedding, which he told him had been fixed for the next day.

“Rather sharp work,” observed Jack.

“Why, the fact is,” answered Higson, “Madame Paskiewich is anxious to give the marriage éclat by having the advantage of your presence, and that of my late shipmates, and, as the young lady did not object, of course I was delighted, and I hope you will be able to stay.”

Jack of course agreed, and the news, soon spreading round the ship, afforded infinite satisfaction. It would take more space than can be allowed to describe the magnificence of the fête. As many of the officers as could be spared were invited on shore, while an abundance of good viands were sent off to those who had to remain on board to take care of the ship. The whole neighbourhood were assembled in their gayest costumes. The upper classes were entertained either in the house, or in a large marquee erected on the lawn, and tables were spread in the neighbouring field for the peasantry and seamen, who, though they could not exchange many ideas, became nevertheless on excellent terms. Everyone, indeed, seemed to forget that a few months before their respective nations had been engaged in a fierce and bloody struggle.

The marriage ceremony was performed in a neighbouring church. Though Jack, who acted as Higson’s best man, did not admire the style of service, and the pictures of saints, and bowings and singing, he came to the conclusion that his friend was as firmly spliced as he would have been in a quiet English country church; and that, after all, as he remarked to him, was the chief point to be considered.

The officers and crew of the Tornado made all the preparations in their power to do honour to their former first lieutenant’s marriage; the ship was decked with flags, and the boats’ crews who had attended the wedding requested the honour of escorting the young couple round the ship. A barge having been got ready for their reception accordingly, Higson, leading his bride down to the water, embarked, and was rowed three times round the ship; while the crew manned yards, the band played “Haste to the wedding,” and the guns fired a salute.

Jack and his officers had also arranged to give a ball on board, and invitations had been sent out through Madame Paskiewich to all her acquaintances. The ship for the purpose had been housed in, and by an extensive use of bunting the deck had been converted into a perfect ballroom, while a handsome supper was laid out in Jack’s cabin and the gun-room. The ship’s boats, aided by a few from the shore, were employed in bringing off the guests; and as they danced away merrily to the music of the ship’s band, few recollected that a few months before the big guns on that deck had been busily engaged in firing on their countrymen. It was one proof of many how slight an interest the nation at large had felt in the war, which they had looked upon as an imperial affair, with which they themselves had nothing to do beyond sending, as in duty bound, their quota of friends and relatives to be slaughtered. Altogether, the ball was pronounced a success, and the officers and their guests parted mutually satisfied with each other.

Feodorowna, who suspected that Jack had been the cause of Tom’s being spirited away, could not help at first exhibiting her displeasure, but by degrees he calmed her anger, assuring her that Tom would have proved a very unsatisfactory husband, as he was much too young for her, and would in a few months have got heartily sick of an idle life on shore, and have either taken to drinking, or run away; and that she would do much more wisely to choose an older partner for life; on which she naïvely inquired whether his second lieutenant was disengaged.

Jack assured her that he was wedded to the muses, and that he doubted much whether even for her sake he would be induced to break off his engagement, but that he would ask him. On Mildmay’s begging to be excused, she begged Jack to select one of the officers; but he told her that notwithstanding his wish to oblige her, such not being the duty of a captain of a man-of-war, he must decline interfering in the matter. The result was, that, having bade Higson and his bride farewell, and wished them every happiness, Jack ordered the fires to be got up, and steamed away down the river.

Greatly to his satisfaction, on his return to Constantinople, he was ordered off to Malta, where he found Julia Giffard and her father. Jack thought Julia looking as blooming as ever; she acknowledged that the voyage had done her so much good that she thought she should be ready to go back again, should he be ordered to England.

“Then your father will, I hope, take a passage on board my ship,” said Jack; “the admiral will not now object to your doing so; but had I the happiness of calling you my wife, it would be against the rules of the service, and I should very likely be compelled to let you come home by some other vessel.”

Julia raised no objection to this proposal, and the colonel very kindly said he wished to do whatever his daughter liked. Jack, therefore, waited with some anxiety to hear the admiral’s decision as to his future proceedings. To assist in deciding the point, he directed the engineer to make a report as to the state of the engines; while the carpenter sent one in respecting the condition of the ship. Both were of opinion that though her safety would not be endangered by the voyage home, she was in a condition to require such a thorough repair as could only be obtained in England.

“In fact, Commander Rogers, you have no objection to go home and pay off your ship, I presume?” observed the admiral; “you certainly have not had much opportunity of allowing the weeds to grow on your keel since she was commissioned, and I shall therefore send you home with despatches; when the Admiralty will decide whether or not to pay the ship off.”

Jack, highly pleased, came back with the news to Julia, who the next day took possession of the cabin Jack had fitted up for her accommodation.

“This is indeed perfect,” she exclaimed, as she admired the neat chintz curtains and furniture, vases and flowers and pictures, which adorned the bulkheads; “I had no idea that a cabin could be made so nice and pretty.”

The colonel was equally well pleased with the accommodation provided for him, and Jack felt a proud satisfaction at being able to carry home his intended bride on board his own ship. We must leave them to make the passage, forgetful of the possible storms, and the many other dangers to which those who voyage upon the fickle ocean are exposed, and follow Adair on board the Gleam.

On touching at Gibraltar, Adair saw by the papers that the Giaour, instead of being paid off, was ordered to proceed to the Cape; and, as far as he could make out, Murray still commanded her.

“Poor Alick!” he exclaimed; “I thought he would now be allowed to remain on shore, and enjoy the society of his wife; there are plenty of other fellows who are not so blessed, who would have been delighted to supersede him.”

Adair was beginning to sympathise with his benedict friend, hoping as he did, in spite of adverse circumstances, ere long to belong to that fraternity.

While in harbour, he had a strict eye kept on Tom, who, though by this time he had regained his usual temper, might, he thought, if possible, take it into his head to try and make his way back to the Crimea.

After getting through the Straits, and when to the northward of the latitude of Cadiz, the ship encountered unusually bad weather. Instead of improving, it became worse and worse; two of her boats were washed away, the wheel and the steering apparatus damaged, and numerous other injuries were received. She would, indeed, have been compelled to put in to Cadiz, had not the wind shifted to the southward; when, setting her close-reefed topsails, she ran on before the gale.

“Well, old fellow, our sweethearts and wives have got hold of the tow-ropes, and are hauling us along at a famous rate,” observed Desmond to Tom.

“Don’t talk about that sort of thing to me,” answered Tom gloomily; “I have no sweetheart or wife in England to tow me along—I am only getting farther and farther from all I hold dear.”

At hearing this, Gerald burst into a hearty fit of laughter. Tom at first felt inclined to quarrel with him, but a poke in the ribs from his messmate, and the word “humbug,” made him instead join in Desmond’s cachinnations. Adair had invited his midshipmen to dine with him, and had by his kind remarks succeeded in driving Tom’s absurd notions out of his head. Tom, who really felt grateful to him, talked cheerfully of home, and of the pleasure he expected to enjoy on returning there.

It was Tom’s first watch. Shortly after sunset he and the second lieutenant, who was officer of the watch, were seen standing on the bridge; the weather had somewhat moderated during the evening, but it had now come on to blow harder than ever, and the ship seemed suddenly to have entered a wild region of tossing, tumbling waves. Adair had left the deck for a few minutes to obtain some refreshment, for he saw that the night was likely to prove a boisterous one, and he intended, as every good commander will do under such circumstances, to remain on deck. He hurried over his meal; indeed, there was no temptation to spend any longer time over it, as even the puddings and fiddles could scarcely keep the articles on the table. He had rung for his steward to clear away, to avoid that operation being performed by the eccentric movements of the billows, and was going towards the door of the cabin, when the ship received a tremendous blow, which made her quiver from stem to stern. At the same time loud cries reached his ears; he sprang on deck, when, glancing towards the bridge, he saw his second lieutenant alone standing there.

“Man overboard!” shouted several voices.

“Who is it?” he asked.

“Mr Rogers, sir,” was the answer; “he was on the bridge a moment ago, and he isn’t there now.”

“There he is, there he is,” shouted someone; and a figure was seen struggling on the foaming crest of a sea. Adair had made his way aft to the lifebuoy, and, pulling both the lanyards, as it dropped into the ocean, a bright light burst forth from its centre. For one moment he gazed at it; he recollected that Tom was Lucy’s brother,—he had been committed to his charge,—without aid he would be unable to reach the buoy. Can I allow him to perish without an attempt to save him? These thoughts flashed through his mind far more rapidly than it has taken to record them; and, without considering the fearful risk he was running, shouting to his first lieutenant to lower a boat, he plunged overboard, and was seen buffeting the tumbling seas and making his way towards the midshipman; who, catching sight of him, cried out, “All right—I see the lifebuoy, and shall soon be up to it.”

Adair, believing that he said this to prevent him from exhausting himself by making efforts to assist him, contented himself by treading water and throwing off his coat, that he might be able to swim to Tom’s assistance, should he prove after all unable to reach the lifebuoy. The ship, meantime, was running on before the gale, and minutes which seemed hours passed by before her canvas could be reduced and she could be rounded to, to enable a boat to be lowered. Besides the regular boats’ crews who stood collected between two of the guns, ready for instant service, numerous volunteers had come forward, as is always found to be the case whenever there is work to be performed; the two lieutenants stood together.

“We shall sacrifice the boat’s crew and boat if we make the attempt,” observed the first lieutenant; “still, I wish to obey the commander’s orders.”

The first lieutenant and master were both of opinion that a boat could not live in such a sea; the discussion was brief, but it lost time, and every moment was of consequence.

“Surely, sir, you’re going to lower a boat,” cried Desmond, who observed the hesitation of his superiors; “you can’t be after letting my uncle and Tom Rogers drown without an attempt to save them; it’s myself would go in her, even if I go alone;” and without further remark he sprang to the lee side, where several of the crew were already collected.

“I’ll go also, at all risks,” cried the boatswain. “Who’ll go with me and Mr Desmond?”

The crew were standing ready with the falls in their hands; he selected six of the best men; but, as they were on the point of leaping into the boat, a sea struck her, and, lifting her bows, unhooked the forward fall, and the next instant she was dashed to fragments against the side.

“I should be throwing away your lives, my lads, to lower another boat,” cried the first lieutenant, as he saw the crew running to the after-quarter boat. “Very sad, but it can’t be helped; we must look after the ship, or she’ll be in a scrape presently.”

By this time the light from the lifebuoy was no longer visible, and even had a boat been lowered, it would have been difficult, if not almost impossible, to find it. The order was given to brace round the headyards, the helm was put up, and the ship was kept on her course running before the wind. Several seas struck her, carrying away two more of her boats and committing further damage. Had not the hatches been battened down, so tremendous was the quantity of water which flooded her decks that she would in all probability have foundered.

Still the men talked and grumbled, and asked whether all had been done that was possible to save their commander and the midshipman. Poor Desmond was in a fearful state of grief; he declared, perhaps unjustly, that all had not been done, and that the ship ought not to have left the spot without, at all events, searching for the lifebuoy, and endeavouring, should the commander and Tom have been found clinging to it, to get them on board. The night was unusually dark, so that had the light not continued burning this would have been impossible. The weather, contrary to expectation, again moderated; Desmond thought that even now they ought to put back, and try to find the lifebuoy. He expressed his opinion very strongly to the first lieutenant.

“You are using very unwarrantable language, young gentleman,” was the answer; “I overlook it, as you naturally feel grieved at the loss of your uncle and friend, but I am the person to judge what it is right to do, and I should not have been warranted in risking the lives of the crew, even to attempt saving that of the commander.”

Poor Desmond was silenced, and though quite indifferent to the consequences, he felt that he had already gone further than he ought to have ventured. He was unable to recover his spirits during the remainder of the passage; he could scarcely say whether he was most sorry to lose his uncle or Tom Rogers, who was to him more even than a brother. From their earliest days, with slight intervals, they had been shipmates and friends; then, again, he thought of the grief Tom’s death would cause at Halliburton; and he had a slight inkling of the engagement between Lucy Rogers and his uncle, and having faith in the tender nature of young ladies’ hearts, he fully believed that hers would be broken. He had read Falconer’s Shipwreck, and remembered the lines, “With terror pale unhappy Anna read,” as she received the news of Palaemon’s loss.