W.H.G. Kingston (continued 6)

The officer in command of the party, having ascertained that Tom was right, gave the order to push forward as rapidly as possible. The Arabs had apparently not yet discovered them, and were still advancing, with their gaze fixed only on those whom they hoped to make their prey. Besides the Arabs, there were numerous blacks, secured together, in the ordinary barbarous fashion, with forked sticks. There could be little doubt that they were slaves who had escaped from the wrecked dhow, and were being taken back to the coast, to be embarked on board another slaver.

The seamen, descending into the valley, soon lost sight of both parties. In spite of the burning sun, which made the air in the valley like that of a hothouse, they pushed rapidly on. Presently they heard some shots fired, which seemed to come from the heights above them. Those heights must be scaled before they could reach their friends. The firing became more and more rapid as they climbed up; they at last caught sight of Archie and his party, who, posted on some rocks, were defending themselves against overwhelming numbers of Arabs. Tom and Gerald uttered a loud cheer, which was taken up by the men, and then, without waiting an instant to gain breath, first firing a volley, they rushed with their cutlasses at the Arabs, who, turning and throwing down their arms, scampered off with the activity of cats, leaving five or six of their number dead or wounded behind them.

The seamen pursued them along the ridge of the hill, cutting down all they overtook; but the larger number saved themselves by the fleetness of their feet. A party of them kept together, however, and made their way towards the group of slaves, in the hope, as it seemed, of carrying them off. The seamen were, however, at their heels before they could accomplish their object; and they were glad to make their escape into the desert, leaving their captives in the hands of the victors.

Hamed, who had followed them, was soon able to calm the fears of the blacks, whose bonds were speedily loosed, and their necks relieved from the forked sticks. A spot which could be easily defended, should the Arabs venture to attack them, was selected for their night encampment. The ground being too uneven to allow them to travel in the dark, it was necessary to remain till the next morning to return to the ship. They had brought an ample supply of provisions, and the Arabs had compelled the slaves to carry food for themselves. The low shrubs growing on the hillside afforded an abundance of fuel; camp-fires were soon lighted, and pots set boiling. Altogether, the midshipmen made themselves perfectly happy. The other officers sat round the fire, recounting their various adventures; Archie’s party had met two or three wild beasts, and been threatened on their road by the Arabs who had escaped from the wrecked dhow, but they kept them at a distance with their firearms; and the fellows had not dared to attack them till, joined by other parties proceeding to the coast, they gained confidence from superior numbers.

“They must be remarkably bad shots,” observed Archie; “for though they had thirty muskets among them, at the least, not one of us has been hit.”

In the morning they returned to the ship, having seen nothing more of the Arabs, who thought it prudent to keep at a distance from the hated Feringhees.

Chapter Thirteen.

Six Months pass away—The Gauntlet goes in Search of the Romp—Jack stands by her—“Breakers Ahead”—Anxious Suspense—Probable Fate of the Romp—Jack proceeds to Zanzibar—Search for Adair—Desmond and Hamed captured by Arabs—Adair and his Companions rescued—Opal and Gauntlet at the Cape—A Ball on Shore—Jack meets an old Friend—Falls in Love—Return to England—Prospect of War with Russia—Massacre of Sinope—The Three Commanders appointed to Ships.

Six months had passed away, and Jack Rogers had disposed of the liberated blacks, and had since been the means of setting many others free, though unhappily also the innocent cause of sending not a few to destruction, who might have otherwise drawn out a weary existence in abject slavery. Often had he to console himself with the reflection that their death truly lay at the door of the accursed slave-dealing Arabs. “It is the only way of putting down slavery that I can see, though a rough one,” said Jack to himself, “till English missionaries and English merchants take possession of the country, and we can drive the Arabs and Portuguese out of it, and induce the natives themselves to rise and aid us in the glorious work; however, I shall not see those days, I fear; and in the meantime we must do what we can to catch the villains at sea.”

The Gauntlet was slowly proceeding southward when she fell in with the commodore. Jack, going on board to receive orders, was directed to look out for the Opal and Romp, which were to proceed to Zanzibar, and thence to the Cape of Good Hope. “That means that they are to be sent home, I suspect,” observed Jack to Higson, when he returned on board; “the commodore ought to be going there too—he looks very ill; and the ship’s company have suffered much from sickness.”

“I hope that we shall soon follow,” observed Higson; “this slave-hunting is all very well in its way, but it’s a style of work one might get easily tired of.” Jack agreed with him; but as the ship had not yet been her full time on the station, there was every probability of her having to remain some months longer.

She had proceeded some way down the coast, when she fell in with one of the Opal’s boats, of which Jos Green had the command. He had captured one full slaver, but said that the ship had taken none. “Nor will she,” he added; “steamers or boats are the only craft suited for this sort of work.” He was very thankful to have his boat hoisted on board; and the next day the Opal was fallen in with. The news that there was a prospect of her returning to England was received on board the Opal with immense satisfaction, by no one more than by her commander.

Jack paid Murray a short visit, but, having a cargo of liberated slaves on board, he had to continue his voyage to Zanzibar. The Opal, meantime, sailed in search of her missing boats. Two days afterwards, as Jack was running down the coast, a bright look-out being kept for the Romp, the weather, which had been threatening for some days, became rapidly worse; the wind shifted to the south-east, then to the eastward, blowing furiously on the coast. A headland had just been doubled, forming the northern side of a deep bay, and Jack was about to put the ship’s head to the eastward to gain a safe offing, when a sail was sighted on the quarter, some way up the bay. He turned his glass towards her; “What do you make of her?” he asked of Higson.

“I have little doubt that she is the Romp, and, if so, I wish that she were well out of her present position,” he answered. “See, she has just gone about, she’s carrying on in the hopes of beating out of the bay, but it’s as much, I fear, as she will do; and, as far as I know, there isn’t a place in which she can anchor—while the shore all round the bay is as wild and rocky as can be.”

“We must stand in and help her!” exclaimed Jack.

“We should only run the risk of losing the ship if we attempt it,” said Higson, “for it will be as much as we can do to hold our own in the teeth of this gale; and as to towing her off, that will be impossible.”

Jack took a turn on deck. “I cannot bear the thoughts of leaving you, Terence, to your fate,” he said to himself. He knew, as well as Higson, the danger that would be run, for even a steamer embayed in such a place, with the full force of the gale blowing into it, would have hard work to get out. He took another turn on deck. “We must try it, notwithstanding!” he exclaimed; “should the wind moderate ever so little, we may carry her out; and if we are compelled to cast her off, she may still have a chance of escaping by bringing up and riding out the gale.”

Higson was not convinced, though almost as anxious as his commander to assist the brig, which was heeling over to the blast, rushing at headlong speed towards the southern side of the bay. She appeared already close upon the rocks, when about she came, and, her sails flattened in, she began racing back through a mass of foam towards the point from which she had come. Again she went about; but the slightest change of wind at the moment, or any want of seamanship, might allow her in a few seconds to be sent, by the furious seas rolling in, on to the black rocks under her lee.

“She’s gaining nothing, I fear,” observed Jack, as he watched her.

“She’s rather losing ground, I suspect,” answered Higson. Presently the brig fired a gun; another and another gun followed, at the interval of a minute. “It is as I feared,” observed Higson, “she’s driving farther and farther up the bay, and Commander Adair knows that there is no holding-ground which can be trusted to.”

“We must go in and help her, at all risks!” cried Jack; and the helm being put up, the steamer, under her head-sails, went rushing forward towards her small consort. In the meantime, the engineers were also ordered to get up as much steam as possible. Again the guns were heard. “Adair would not make those signals unless he were in great distress,” observed Jack; “tow her out we must; though I fear that unless we’re very brisk about it, we shall lose much ground in doing so.”

Two stout hawsers had been ranged aft and well secured, ready to carry on board the brig. Her movements were eagerly watched by all eyes on board. Desmond felt more anxious than he had ever before been in his life, for he loved his uncle heartily, and clearly saw the danger he was in. All round the shores of the bay appeared a broad line of snowy foam, contrasting with the dark shore. Not a break was there to be seen, not a spot where the brig could be beached with any prospect of affording escape to her crew. As she stood across the bay, she appeared to be not more than a couple of miles from the deepest part—and in how few minutes would she be driven that distance!

She had again reached the northern shore; once more her head-sails shivered in the gale, and the hearts of the bravest on board the Gauntlet trembled, lest, missing stays, her fate might be sealed. “She’s about all right!” shouted several voices; and like a gallant steed galloping across the course to the winning-post, she came plunging on through the troubled waters. Though Adair saw his friend coming to his assistance, he must not for a moment, he knew, relax his own efforts. By this time the Gauntlet had reached the centre of the bay, and her head being put to the wind, she waited at a spot which the brig must pass on her next tack to cross the bay.

The Romp was nearing the southern shore; again she came about. Adair gave proof that he was a good seaman, and his crew in prime order, or it could never have been done. He was seen standing aft conning the brig; the topmen were in the rigging, ready to swarm aloft to shorten sail; a party of the hands stood on the forecastle with the second lieutenant and boatswain, ready to secure the hawsers. The rest of the hands were at their stations on deck. The work, to be done successfully, must be done smartly; everyone knew that. Rapidly the brig approached. Two of the strongest and most active seamen were on the poop ready to heave the lines on board. Adair’s voice was heard above the gale, shouting, “Down with the helm—shorten sail!” In an instant the topmen were on the yards, the staysails were hauled down, and, the brig luffing up, the Gauntlet moved slowly ahead, while the hawsers were rapidly hauled on board.

Some flags were run up to the foremast and head of the brig. “He thanks you, sir,” said Desmond, who had the signal-book in his hand; and Adair was seen pointing significantly at the fierce breakers dashing over the rocks astern.

Short as had been the time occupied in the operation, the vessels had drifted farther into the bay. Now came the tug of war. The hawsers being secured, the Gauntlet, with all her boilers at full pressure, steamed ahead. Jack kept his eye on the shore, anxiously watching what way was made; both hawsers were at full stretch; though the screw was exerting all its power, yet the vessels scarcely seemed to move onwards. Higson, who was looking out at the other side, was unusually grave; anxious as he was to assist Adair, he thought that Jack had no business to venture into his present position.

“If anything goes, we are done for,” he muttered to himself; “she doesn’t move an inch ahead.” Jack thought the same; he sent for the chief engineer to ascertain if more pressure could be put on the engines.

“They will not stand it—they are doing their utmost, sir,” was the answer. Still, Jack was determined not to abandon Adair. On board the brig the hands were still aloft sending down topgallant-masts. Jack hoped against hope that the gale would decrease, and that he should then be able to tow Adair out of the bay; if he once weathered the headland, the brig might stand away on a bowline and gain the offing—but within the bay she lost, each time she tacked, more ground than she had gained.

Clouds were gathering thickly in the sky; down came a deluge of rain, such as is only known in the tropics, like a thick veil of mist obscuring the brig astern. The water lay deep on the decks before it had time to run off; all sight of the shore was completely shut out. As the steamer plunged into the sea, tugging away at the tow-ropes, Jack could not help believing that she must be going ahead; on and on she went—the rain showed no sign of ceasing.

“It must come to an end, at last!” exclaimed Jack, trying to peer through it at the shore, the dim outline alone of which he could distinguish.

The lead was of course kept going, but as it reached the bottom, it scarcely ran out of the lead-man’s hands. “She’s going more astern than ahead!” he shouted at length.

“Provided she doesn’t go much astern, we must keep at it in the hopes of a lull,” observed Jack to Higson.

Another ten minutes passed. Various were the expressions of opinion on board; the midshipmen were sanguine that they would succeed. “My brother Jack has determined to do it, and he will do it,” said Tom.

“Suppose the hawsers were to carry away?” said Archie.

“There are two of them; if one doesn’t hold, the other may,” answered Desmond.

Jack paced the deck; at length the rain passed by. The marks on shore showed that they had not changed their position; still the destruction of the brig had been delayed, for by this time she would have been on the rocks. Thus far something was gained; still the appearance of the sky indicated no improvement in the weather. “Hoist the signal—‘Prepare to anchor and strike topmasts,’” cried Jack at length. The brig made the answering signal. Preparations had already been going forward on board her, the topmasts were at length struck; still no effect was produced. Nobly the steamer tugged and tugged away. Higson did not offer any advice, but he was ready to give it as soon as his commander should ask for it. “There’s a lull!” cried Jack; “thank heaven, we may do it!”

Now the vessels moved ahead; had the water been smoother, by a steady pull the work might have been done; but, as it was, having to plunge into the heavy seas, the Gauntlet was in the trough of one while the brig was on the summit, or sometimes on the other side, of the one which had just passed astern of the leading vessel. “Here comes a lull—Heaven be praised! Surely she’s going ahead, Higson?” said Jack.

“It may be, though slowly,” was the answer. The occasion was a trying one to the young commander. “She’s doing it now, sir!” exclaimed Higson, with more hope in his tone than he had yet shown. There could be no doubt about it—the vessels were drawing out from the bay, but still the headlands appeared over the bows on either side.

“If the weather continues to be moderate, all may be right!” cried Jack, taking a turn with more elastic step. All on board were looking forward to saving the brig, when suddenly down came the tempest with renewed force, and a report like thunder was heard; one of the stout hawsers had parted. Still the other held, and might possibly hold. It was watched as anxiously by Jack and those in the ship as by all on board the brig, whose lives, in all probability, depended upon it. To replace it was impossible, as no line had been retained for the purpose; should the ship’s speed be slackened, and thus take off the strain, both vessels must drift back, and perhaps share a common fate. All now depended upon the single hawser. Hope was not abandoned; the day was drawing on; for more than three hours the steamer had been tugging away at the brig, and if the hawser would hold, Jack determined to tug on till the storm should abate. In that he was following the instincts of his nature—every British officer worth his salt would have done the same. He was impelled also by his faithful friendship for Adair, and he would have been ready to risk his own life to save that of his old shipmate.

Again there was a lull, and the hopes of all revived; but it was only for a time. A squall, heavier than any of its predecessors, struck the vessels, accompanied by a tremendous downfall of rain. Every fibre of the hawser was stretched to its utmost; a fearful sea came rolling in, deluging the deck; two poor fellows on the forecastle were washed off, but no help could be given them. Not a sound was heard as they were borne into their ocean graves. Shrieks and cries arose from the unhappy blacks on the maindeck, who believed that their last moments had come. Just then another loud report was heard, the hawser flying like a huge snake in the air; and many a voice exclaimed, “She’s parted! she’s parted!”

As they looked astern, the brig was seen broadside to the sea, driving helplessly before the gale; while the ship, relieved from her task, seemed to bound forward. With a heavy heart Jack ordered her to be kept on her course; stern duty demanded that he should abandon his friend; nothing that he could do could save the brig. Painful as it was to watch her, he could not help looking out aft to try and ascertain her fate. She might have been about two miles from the shore when she broke adrift, driving before the furious gale, but a few brief minutes must elapse ere she would be hurled on the iron-bound coast. On and on she drove, growing dimmer and dimmer to view, shrouded by the spray which filled the air.

“She’s scarcely a mile now from the shore,” observed Higson; “she’s making head-sail; they must be looking out for the least dangerous spot on which to run her.” Just as he spoke there came another furious downpour, forming a thick veil round the ship, which shut out every distant object, so that scarcely the outline of either lofty cliff could be seen.

“She may bring up and cut away her masts,” said Jack, with a deep sigh; “it is her only chance.”

“The holding-ground may be better than we suppose,” observed Higson, wishing to console him; “or there may be some opening up the bay which we could not discern; he has probably surveyed it.”

“I hope so,” said Jack. “Who are the men who are lost overboard?” he asked, turning his mind to his own ship’s company. The crew was mustered, and on the names of John Jackson and William Davis being called, no reply was made. The paymaster struck them off the ship’s books, and the next day their effects were sold, and the proceeds placed to the credit of their heirs, and all matters concerning them were brought to a conclusion, though now and then their shipmates might mention them with an expression of regret at their untimely fate.

The gale continued blowing as fiercely as ever, while the ship was still forcing her way ahead, and Jack could not help confessing that the steamer was a finer craft to command than he had ever supposed. His own ship in safety, his thoughts again recurred to Adair. He was acquainted with Lucy’s feelings for him, and, should he have lost his life, he thought of all the sorrow it would cost his sister. Desmond was very unhappy, though Tom and Archie did their best to console him. The general opinion on board was that the brig would go on shore, and that few or none on board her would escape with their lives.

Not only provisions for the blacks, but coals were running short, and it was therefore important that the ship should get to Zanzibar as soon as possible, when Jack intended to return and ascertain what had become of the Romp and her crew. If she had gone on shore, and the crew had escaped, they would be exposed to many dangers, either from want of food or from attacks by the natives.

On the arrival of the Gauntlet at Zanzibar, the slaves were handed over, by the directions of the consul, to another vessel, which was to take them to their future home. The Gauntlet, having then, with all possible despatch, obtained a supply of coals, steamed away northward to ascertain the fate of the Romp and to rescue any of her crew who might have escaped on shore.

Nothing had been seen of the Opal, and Jack began to fear that she might have suffered in the gale, which had blown with unusual violence all along the coast. The Gauntlet had got nearly up to the bay she was to visit, when, much to Jack’s satisfaction, the Opal was sighted, steering for Zanzibar. Jack immediately signalised that he wished to speak her. In a short time the two vessels hove-to, and lay within a few cables’ lengths of each other, when Jack immediately went on board. Murray heard, with great concern, of the too probable fate of their old shipmate, and, having no liberated slaves on board, willingly agreed to assist in the search, as his boats’ crews would be of service should an armed force be required to obtain the liberation of any of her crew who might have been made prisoners.

The wind being favourable, he followed Jack into the bay, where he brought up at a respectful distance from the shore; while Jack steamed farther in to look out for the wreck. All eyes were turned towards the shore, where, instead of the belt of surf, there now appeared a broad fringe of rocks, some rising to a considerable height out; of the water.

“A cruel place that for the ship to go on shore,” observed Jack, with a sigh, “there would not have been much left of her by the morning.”

“There she is! there she is!” cried several voices from forward; in another minute or so the wreck of a vessel, with her masts gone, could clearly be discerned jammed in between two rocks.

“She has held together better than I could have supposed,” said Higson.

“Put the ship’s head off-shore; we will bring up,” said Jack.

As soon as the ship came to an anchor, two of the boats were lowered, Jack himself going in one, with Hamed and Tom and Desmond, Jack knowing that the latter was eager to gain the first tidings of his uncle. They pulled in with some faint hopes of finding the people still on board, or encamped on the shore; but no signal was seen, and their hopes grew less and less.

Jack now looked out for a place suitable for landing, and as he approached, he saw several small sandy beaches, where a boat could land without danger. He chose one nearest the wreck, and both boats steered in for it; still not a sign of human beings could be seen. He at once landed, with Matson, who was in the second boat, and accompanied by him and the two midshipmen, and a party of his crew, well armed, proceeded at once to the wreck. It being now low water, they could almost reach her by clambering along the rocks. On getting close to her, it was seen that she had suffered more severely than had been supposed; her whole stem frame was knocked in, and the sea must have made a clean breach through her, so that no one could have remained on board. Her masts and guns were gone, and the whole of her stores had either been washed out of her, or had since been carried away. There were signs, indeed, that she had been plundered by a large party, as the marks of numerous feet were discerned on the sand above high-water mark.

While Jack and most of the party had been examining the rock, Hamed, with Desmond and Tim Nolan, had gone on towards a height some distance from the shore, under the expectation of being able to obtain from its summit an extensive view inland. After leaving the rock, Jack sent the party, two or three together, to examine the rocks, to ascertain if the bodies of any of the crew had been washed up upon them. Jack still had hopes that the crew had been able to hold on to the wreck, till the falling tide should have allowed them to reach the shore. Still he could discover nothing to settle the point; it was only evident that the guns must have been thrown overboard, and the masts cut away, before she reached the shore. Perhaps Adair might afterwards have set off overland to try and reach one of the Arab towns belonging to the Sultan of Zanzibar, where he could obtain provisions, and from whence he could send notice to the consul where he was, so that a ship of war might be despatched to render him assistance.

Jack was looking out for Hamed, when he caught sight of a figure running along at full speed from the direction of the hill, and every now and then casting a look behind him indicative of alarm. Jack immediately summoned the men from the rocks, and, as he hurried forward, he recognised Tim Nolan.

“Yer honour, it’s bad news I bring!” he exclaimed, panting for breath, though he did not forget to touch his hat to his commander; “the spalpeens of Arabs have been and taken Mr Desmond, and our ’terpreter Hamed, and they’ll be after cutting their throats if we don’t look sharp and carry them help. As they were hurrying them down the hill, and looking thunder and lightning at them, Hamed cried out to me, ‘Run for your life and tell the captain!’ and shure, run I did, for they’d have been after cutting my throat if I hadn’t.”

On receiving this intelligence, Jack immediately despatched Mr Matson’s boat to the ship with directions to signalise Murray to send his boats, well armed, on shore, desiring his own lieutenant to return with two more from the ship. He immediately, with his boat’s crew, pushed on in the direction Tim believed Desmond and Hamed had been carried. Instead, however, of going over the hill, he led his men round it at a turn, hoping by this to cut off the Arabs as they descended into the plain. Tim, one of the most active of the party, kept well ahead. He had just rounded the rocky point, when he caught sight of a party of Arabs, twenty or more in number, with Desmond and Hamed in their midst. Hamed, by the gesticulations he was employing, was apparently expostulating with his captors; while Desmond was using strenuous means to show them that he was disinclined to move forward.

The Arabs were so engaged with their prisoners, that they did not observe the approach of the English till they were close upon them. Jack and his companions redoubled their speed.

“Hurrah!” shouted Tim. “Knock the blackamoors down right and left, and we’ll be up soon.”

Desmond was perfectly ready to follow this advice, and two or three well-directed blows enabled him to spring out from among the astonished Arabs and join his friends. Hamed made a similar attempt, but, being tripped up, was caught by the Arabs, two of whom held their daggers at his breast.

“They stickee into me, they stickee into me!” shouted poor Hamed, “if you not doee what they ask.”

“What is it?” inquired Jack, who continued advancing towards the Arabs.

“Dey let goee if not shootee,” answered Hamed.

“Tell them that, though they deserve to be punished for daring to capture Her Majesty’s officers, I will not injure them if they will inform me in what direction our friends have gone,” said Jack.

Hamed on this appeared greatly relieved, and a long parley ensued between him and the Arabs. Their chief, a ragged old fellow, with somewhat tattered, though once rich, garments, stepped forward, and, making a profound salaam, uttered a long address, which Hamed briefly interpreted. “He say you pay him a hundred dollars, he takee where English stop, and fightee black fellows.” The Arab himself and his followers were as black as negroes, by the bye, having probably more African than Asiatic blood in their veins.

“The rascals!” exclaimed Jack; “why, we are sparing their lives, and they have the impudence to name their own terms. Tell them we’ll shoot every one of them if they refuse to guide us to our friends.”

Hamed had another talk with the chief. “He say very well, you shootee his people, and be no wiser than at first.”

“The old fellow’s got sense in his brains,” observed Jack, “and as we can’t pay him the dollars till we get back to the ship, the bribe may prevent him from acting treacherously and leading us into an ambush. Tell him that if through his means we recover our friends, I promise him the hundred dollars, though he must come on board my ship to receive them.”

The old slave-dealer again salaamed, and, through Hamed, expressed his perfect satisfaction with the arrangements. Jack would gladly have set off at once, for he suspected, from what Hamed had learned from the chief, that Adair and his crew must be very hard pressed, and destitute both of provisions and water. The Arabs looked greatly astonished at the strong force which landed, and became very humble and submissive. Perhaps Jack might have saved the hundred dollars, which were certain to be employed in the slave-trade, had he waited the arrival of the other boats. He had, however, promised them, and there was no help for it; he could only hope that the old fellow and his crew might be caught with a full cargo of slaves on board their dhow.

To Jack’s surprise, instead of proceeding south, their guides led the way to the northward. Hamed explained that so large a force had appeared in the south, that the shipwrecked crew had been compelled to retire northward; and Jack concluded that they had done so in the hopes of being able to communicate with the corvette, which Adair knew to be in that direction, or perhaps with some of the Romp’s boats which might be cruising in the same quarter.

Sailors are always in high spirits when tramping overland, in the hopes either of having a fight, or succouring those in distress. If the chief was to be believed, there was a fair probability of both these events occurring. Murray, as senior officer, of course took command of the expedition. He and Jack marched on together. Not entirely trusting their guides, they sent out scouts on either hand to feel the way, while the men were ordered to keep well together, and to be in readiness at any moment, in case of a surprise.

“Arrah, now,” exclaimed Desmond, who with Tom and Archie were in the rear, “I hope we may get a scrimmage with these blackamoors; the spalpeens, to be attacking my uncle and his shipwrecked crew instead of lending them a hand, as any decent people would, when we want to help them and to put a stop to slavery.”

“That’s the very thing they don’t want to have stopped,” observed Archie; “as long as they can make more money by selling their fellow-creatures, though no blacker than themselves, they’ll do it.”

“If we had a fleet of merchantmen on the coast,” said Desmond, “ready to give good prices for their ivory and ostrich feathers, and anything else their country produces, while all and every slave-trader knew that if caught he was to be hung up, I fancy that the slave-trade would soon be knocked on the head.”

“A very good idea of yours, Desmond, but it may be a difficult matter to induce merchants to send their vessels out. It will be done in time if they find out that it is to their advantage,” said Archie.

“If I had the management of affairs, I’d make them do it!” cried Desmond. “When a thing ought to be done, the sooner it is done the better; and if, as you say, it is the only way to stop this abominable slave-trade, and the misery and death of tens of thousands of Africans, we Englishmen shouldn’t stop haggling about the cost, but do it at once.”

“That’s my notion,” said Tom; “and when my eldest brother gets into Parliament, I’ll give him no rest till he gets the thing done, somehow or other.”

The other midshipmen were all of accord on the matter, but their conversation was interrupted by one of the scouts coming in with the information that he had seen a large party of men at the foot of a rocky height in the distance ahead, very busy about something or other, but what it was he could not make out. Hamed, after questioning the old chief, informed Murray and Jack that the people seen were undoubtedly those who had followed Adair and his crew, who were in all probability not far off.

The force therefore pushed on, and, passing over some very rough ground, reached a spot whence they could make out three or four hundred people on the low ground, and a small party on a rocky height. Two or three tiny jets of smoke, sent forth every now and then by the latter, showed that they had firearms, though very few; and, from the intervals which elapsed between each shot, it was evident that they were husbanding their ammunition, and only firing when necessity compelled them to keep their assailants in check.

On observing this, Murray ordered his party at once to fire a volley, which would inspirit their friends, and intimidate the enemy. “Forward!” cried their commanders; and they pushed on at a rate which quickly brought them close to the scene of action. As they advanced, leaping over rocks and all impediments, towards the mongrel army, the leaders of the latter were seen to be moving about in evident alarm. At the instant a shower of bullets was sent rattling among them, they, to a man, faced about, and scampered off as fast as their legs could carry them. The relieving force quickly surmounted the height, where they found Adair with six or seven of his officers, and little more than half his crew. Jack and Murray were soon shaking him warmly by the hand; his and his companions’ appearance showed, before a word had been spoken, that succour had come most opportunely. Their emaciated looks and hollow eyes told too plainly how they had suffered from hunger; not a particle of food remained in the camp, or a drop of water; and not more than three rounds of ammunition for the six muskets which had been saved from the wreck.

“If you hadn’t come, my dear fellows, it would have been all up with us, I fear,” said Adair; “we’d made up our minds to rush down on the enemy and try to put them to flight; but without food, and no chance of getting any, we should only have gained the advantage of being allowed to die in peace, unless one of our boats had appeared, for which we came here to look out. It is the saddest thing which has ever happened to me; twenty poor fellows drowned, besides the loss of the brig; and as we have seen nothing of our boats, I am afraid some harm must have happened to them.”

Jack and Murray did their best to comfort him, while all hands were employed in serving out the provisions and water which had so thoughtfully been brought. As the Romp’s crew were too weak to march, the party bivouacked on the hill, with plenty of camp-fires, for which the blacks collected abundance of fuel.

Just as they were about to start at daylight, two boats were seen rounding a point, and Adair had the satisfaction of finding that they were those which had been despatched from the brig some weeks before, and which had since been cruising in search of her. The more sickly men were at once placed on board them, and they were sent round to join the Gauntlet; while the rest of the party set off overland, accompanied by their Arab guide, who kept close to them for fear of losing his dollars.

On getting on board, Jack paid him punctually, with a warning, imparted through Hamed, that if they were employed in the slave-trade he would lose them again, and get himself into further trouble. Whether or not the old fellow followed the advice he received, Jack had no means of ascertaining.

On their return to Zanzibar, the Opal and Gauntlet received orders to proceed to the Cape. Loud cheers rose from the decks of both ships as the news was announced on board; and even poor Adair, though he had the unpleasant anticipation of a court-martial for the loss of the brig, felt his spirits rise considerably. Jack comforted him with the assurance that the evidence his officers had to give must acquit him of all blame, and that he himself had done everything possible to save the brig.

“But I had no business to have been caught in the bay,” sighed Adair. “My prospects in the service are ruined, and I shall never get another ship.”

“Never fear,” answered Jack; “we shall have perhaps a war before long, and, depend upon it, you will not be overlooked when ships are fitting out. Officers of dash and determination will be wanted, and you possess the required qualities.”

The packet from England had come in the day before they arrived at the Cape, and Jack found a letter from Admiral Triton. “We shall have some of the old work again before long, my boy, depend upon that,” he wrote. “I have it from the best authority that the Russians have made up their minds to quarrel with the Turks, and take possession of Constantinople. They have been for some time past badgering them about the Holy Places, and insisting that their co-religionists are ill-treated by the Moslems,—not that they really care about the matter,—and that is sufficient to convince anyone who has got his weather-eye open that they only want a pretext for war, decent or indecent. The news has just arrived, though it has not yet been made public, that we should be suspicious of the designs of Louis Napoleon, who has so wonderfully been transmogrified into an emperor—though for my part, I believe that no ruler of France has ever been more friendly disposed towards us, and the Russians will find that they are mistaken in wishing to set us by the ears. That Prince Menzikoff, their ambassador to the Porte, has presented the ultimatum of the Russian Government, which means war, for the Turks are certain not to knock under; and we and the French would not let them, if they thought of doing so. The Russians intend to invade Turkey with all possible despatch; indeed, they have an army all ready to throw across the frontier. Menzikoff will be away from Constantinople in the course of a day or two, and then the business will begin. Our Government intends to send a fleet through the Dardanelles without delay, and as the Russians have no small number of ships in the Black Sea, we may hope to have a brush with them. I wish you were here, Jack, to take a part in whatever goes on; and I am glad to find that your ship is ordered home, so that there is a chance of your being in time; you will not let the grass grow under your feet; and as you can steam through the calm latitudes, we may hope to see you here before long. I never liked steamers, but they have their advantages, there’s no doubt about that. In the meantime, I’ll use all the influence I possess to get you a craft you’ll like; and as I fancy that more work is to be done in a steam-vessel than in a sailing-ship, I’ll try and get one for you.”

The admiral’s letter contained a good deal more in his usual style of chit-chat; Mrs Murray had gone to stay with her friend Lucy at Halliburton Hall, though he expected both of them back again, and hoped that they would be with him when Jack arrived. Jack showed the letter to Terence, who sighed when he read it.

“What’s the matter?” asked Jack.

“I’m only thinking that an unlucky dog like myself, who has lost his ship, has very little chance of getting another,” said Adair; “and that the bright hopes I entertained of soon getting my post-rank must be abandoned for ever.”

Jack, of course, did his best to console him. “Come along,” he said; “there’s a grand ball to-night at the governor’s, and we’re asked; we’ll take the youngsters—it is a good thing to let them enjoy a little society, and will help to polish them up before they return home.”

Adair was unwilling to appear in public, but he yielded to Jack’s wishes. The three midshipmen were of course delighted, and busily employed themselves, with the aid of their marines, in burnishing up their long unused uniforms; so that when they entered the ballroom they presented a very respectable appearance following in the wake of their commanders.

Adair soon recovered his spirits, and Jack laughed as he watched him whirling round and round in the valse, or prancing away in the galop with true Hibernian vehemence. The midshipmen had entered into a compact to introduce each other to their partners. They did not fail to admire the blue eyes, light hair, and fair complexions of the Dutch damsels.

“Never saw so many pretty girls under one roof in my life!” exclaimed Tom; “I’m over head and ears in love with every one of them.”

“‘There’s luck in odd numbers, cried Rory O’More,’” answered Desmond; “to my fancy, the girl I last danced with is handsomer than any of them. She was asking me all sorts of questions about our ship and the commander and my uncle, and seemed very sorry about the loss of the brig, of which she had evidently heard. I’ll introduce you, Tom,—she was engaged for the next dance, but said that she should be happy if I would bring you up for the following one,—so come along. She’s only been here for a short time on her way home from India, so I gathered from what she said; but I daresay she’ll tell you if you ask her, for there’s evidently no nonsense about her.”

“That’s just the sort of girl I like,” said Tom, as Desmond led him across the room to a young lady who was seated far back in an alcove, from whence she could watch the crowd without being observed. Tom, as he made his bow, and was received with a sweet smile, thought that she fully came up to Desmond’s description, though she was certainly older than most of his previous partners. He willingly, in answer to her inquiries, told her all about the ship, his brother Jack, and Adair. She then got him to talk about Halliburton, and he was surprised to find that she was well acquainted with the country. At last she said, “I wonder you do not remember me, Tom;” on which, looking into her face, he exclaimed, “Why, you are Julia Giffard!”

She acknowledged that such was the case, and that she had gone out to India with her father, Colonel Giffard, who had been compelled, on account of ill-health, to visit the Cape, and had been advised to return home without going back.

“Jack will be delighted to see you,” said Tom; “I’ll go and find him and bring him to you, if you will allow me.”

Julia replied that she should be very happy to talk about old times with Captain Rogers, and Tom, after the dance was over, leaving her in her former seat, hurried off to find his brother.

“I thought it must be her,” said Jack; “but yet, as I fancied she was at home, I concluded that she was only remarkably like herself. She doesn’t look a day older than when I last saw her.”

Miss Giffard held out her hand as Jack approached, and they were soon engaged in an interesting conversation. Jack did not dance with anyone else during the evening. He promised to call the next morning on Colonel Giffard, who had not been well enough to come to the ball. The result of the visit was that Jack offered to convey him and his daughter to England. As the Gauntlet was to sail immediately, and might hope to make a quick passage, and the colonel being anxious to arrive at home as soon as possible, he gladly availed himself of Jack’s offer. Julia seemed very well pleased at the arrangement, and the midshipmen were delighted when they heard that they were to have a lady on board.

The Gauntlet and Opal sailed the same day. It was to be a race between steam and wind; at first the trim corvette, with a fair breeze, distanced her consort, and Archie, who, though still on board the steamer, retained a natural feeling of pride in his own ship, declared that she would win.

“Stay a bit, till the wind falls, and we get our fires alight,” answered Tom; “the old kettle will then show how she can go along.”

Miss Giffard had not been on board long before the commander’s attentions to her were remarked, and in the midshipmen’s berth it was decided that it was a gone case. Miss Giffard had heard of Jack’s engagement to the beautiful Irish girl, and of his bereavement; and the sympathy she exhibited quickly melted any ice which might have existed round his heart. His sisters would have been highly pleased could they have known the turn affairs were taking. Long before the ship reached Spithead, Jack was engaged to Julia Giffard, with the colonel’s full consent.

The Gauntlet received orders immediately to go into harbour, and scarcely had she picked up her moorings, than a note from Admiral Triton came on board, begging Jack to come to Southsea as soon as possible, as his sister and Mrs Murray were anxious to see him. Jack and Adair escorted Colonel Giffard and his daughter to The George, where leaving them, they hurried on to the admiral’s house. Stella was anxious to receive news of her husband, while Lucy’s happiness at seeing Jack and Adair was somewhat marred at being told of the loss of the brig. When, however, the admiral heard all the particulars, he assured Adair that he would be honourably acquitted, and that it would not stand in the way of his getting another ship.

“I’ve good news for you, whatever others may think of it,” he added; “the Russians have already invaded the Principalities, and, at the Sultan’s request, the British and French fleets have passed through the Dardanelles, and taken up an anchorage before Constantinople. They were there when news arrived—which reached me only this morning—that the Turks had a squadron of eight frigates and a few smaller vessels lying at anchor in the harbour of Sinope, according to Turkish custom, totally unprepared for battle. Instead of remaining where they were, they would have acted more wisely had they got out of the Black Sea and run for safety to the British fleet. As it was, there they lay, not dreaming of danger, when, during a thick log, the Russian admiral, Natchimoff, sailed out of Sevastopol with six line-of-battle ships, two frigates, and several small vessels, and suddenly appeared off the port, when the Turks, not liking his appearance, fired a few shots at him. Unfortunately for themselves, he immediately, without giving them the chance of striking their flags, opened upon them a tremendous fire from the broadsides of his line-of-battle ships. Though they could not have had the slightest hope of victory, they fought on with the utmost desperation, either refusing to strike their colours, or, if they were hauled down, the Russian admiral was too blind to see it. With barbarous resolution, he continued blazing away, till frigate after frigate sunk or was blown up; and four thousand of the brave fellows who had manned them were killed. One steamer only managed to get away and carry the news to Constantinople. Scarcely four hundred Turks, all of those more or less wounded, escaped on shore. The town was also dreadfully knocked about, and many people were killed. Natchimoff, having waited till the next day, returned to the harbour of Sebastopol. I only hope the next time he sails out of it, whether or not he has the whole of the Russian fleet to back him, that he will fall in with a British squadron. Depend upon it, England will not allow this outrage to go unavenged. The allied fleets are by this time in the Black Sea, looking out for the enemy. I wish you were there, but we shall be reinforcing the fleet in the Black Sea, as well as sending another up the Baltic to attack the Russians on their northern shores.”

This was not a time that Adair could press his suit with Sir John, though Colonel Giffard promised to use his influence as soon as he returned home. Meantime the colonel and Julia accepted the admiral’s and Mrs Deborah’s invitation to remain at Southsea till Jack had paid off the Gauntlet. She was to be immediately recommissioned as soon as she had undergone the necessary repairs.

The court-martial to try Adair for the loss of the Romp immediately took place; when not only was he honourably acquitted, but next day he was appointed to the command of the Gauntlet, ordered to proceed with the squadron under Sir Charles Napier to the Baltic. Jack, taking it into his head that he was to be placed on the shelf, proposed to marry at once; but the very next day he was appointed to a new steamer ordered to be brought forward with all despatch for the Mediterranean squadron. He had time, therefore, only to run home for a few days, and to return immediately to Portsmouth.

The Opal meantime had arrived, and, being paid off, her crew were turned over to Jack’s new ship, the Tornado. Murray, once more with his dear Stella, very naturally had no wish to leave her, and they were on the point of setting off for Scotland, when he received a flattering note from Captain Hemming, which completely altered his plans. “I have been appointed to the Briton, seventy-four, and, having to select my commander, I beg that you will allow me to name you, as I am very sure that you will get her well manned and quickly fit for sea, and that you will ably second me in any work we have to perform. I consider you, my dear Murray, as efficient an officer as any with whom I am acquainted. I do not know yet whether we are to be sent to the Baltic or the Mediterranean, but we are certain to go to one or the other.”

Alick placed the matter before Stella, who looked very pale, but answered heroically, “You must do what you conceive to be your duty. I have before advised you not to give up the service, and I must therefore say, accept Captain Hemming’s flattering offer.”

“I knew that you would decide rightly,” answered Murray.

“I heartily congratulate you!” exclaimed the admiral. “Deb and I will take good care of your wife while you’re away; it won’t be for a long period, I hope; and it won’t be Hemming’s fault if you have not some opportunity of distinguishing yourself and gaining your post-rank. I should like to see you all three captains before I slip my cable, which I must expect to do before many years are over; and it will give me more pleasure than I can well express to see you all whom I knew as youngsters gain your well-earned promotion. You’ve always done your duty, and will, I am sure, prove ornaments to our profession as long as you remain afloat.”

Chapter Fourteen.

Review at Spithead—Admiral Triton’s Opinion of Steam-vessels—The Allied Fleets in Cavarna Bay—Jack visits Murray on board the Briton—Bombardment of Odessa—Loss of the Tiger—Jack in Command of the Tornado runs into the Harbour of Sebastopol—A Visit to the Guards’ Camp.

“A magnificent sight! What would Nelson have done with such a fleet?” exclaimed the admiral, as, with his eye at a telescope turned towards Spithead, at an early hour on the morning of the 11th of March 1854, he gazed at the fleet collected there under Sir Charles Napier. “We must have a nearer look at them, ladies; the Gauntlet goes out of harbour, and Adair has sent his coxswain to say that his gig is waiting at the pier. Come, Deborah; come, Mrs Murray; get on your wraps. Lucy, my dear, you mustn’t mind appearances; though the sun is bright, the wind is still keen, and you will find it cold enough coming on shore again.”

The ladies, who had already finished breakfast, were soon equipped; and the admiral, helped by Miss Rogers and his sister, had got into his pea-jacket, and, Lucy having tucked the ends of the comforter which surrounded his throat well into it, he was ready, stick in hand, to tramp across the common. Lucy’s well-fitting yachting-dress, with an overcoat calculated to withstand all weathers, became her well. The gig was soon alongside the Gauntlet, at whose gangway Adair stood ready to receive his guests. It was the first time Lucy had come on board, and with no little pride and happiness he helped her up the accommodation ladder.

The next instant, casting off from her moorings, the Gauntlet steamed out of the harbour towards Spithead. “Well, after all, there is something to be said in favour of steam,” observed the admiral; “and though I did once think it would never come to much, I must confess I was wrong; though, had it never been invented, we should not have felt the want of it.”

“At all events, admiral, it enables us to get out to Spithead, which we otherwise should have found it a difficult job to do,” answered Adair, laughing. “Look at the magnificent Duke of Wellington, with her 131 guns; see the Royal George, and Saint Jean d’Acre, with what ease they can now manoeuvre, by the aid of their screws. I suspect Nelson would have been willing to exchange the whole of his fleet for three such ships at Trafalgar, and not only would have gained the victory, but would not have allowed one of the enemy to escape.”

“It might have been so,” said the admiral; “but I suspect, had the chance been given him, he would have preferred having his tough little Victory and the other stout ships of his fleet, to all the new-fangled contrivances.” The admiral, it was evident, had still a hankering for the good old days when he first went to sea.

The Gauntlet was able to steam through a considerable portion of the fleet before she took up her destined station; thus passing in succession the Duke of Wellington, Sir Charles Napier’s flagship, the Neptune, Saint George, and Royal George, 120-gun ships, the Saint Jean d’Acre, 101 guns; fourteen other ships carrying from 60 to 91 guns, most of them fitted with screws; five frigates, each able to compete with an old line-of-battle ship; and eighteen paddle-wheel and screw-steamers, anyone of which would speedily have sunk the largest ship of ancient days.

In a short time the Queen appeared in the Fairy yacht, passing through this superb fleet, when, the yards being manned, the crews greeted her with hearty cheers, and such a salute broke forth from their guns as had never before been heard.

“Well, admiral, I hope when we come back we shall be able to give a good account of our proceedings, if the Czar ventures to go to war,” observed Adair; “we may at least expect to take Sweaborg, Helsingfors, and Cronstadt, and perhaps lay Saint Petersburg itself under contribution.”

“If Sir Charles is at all like what he was a few years ago, I hope you may,” answered the admiral; “but though Charley is some years my junior, I should have declined ten years ago accepting such a command. He may be tough enough, but the sort of work he has to do wants nerve, and that, as a man advances in life, is apt to slacken.”

Still, notwithstanding Admiral Triton, the prognostications of Adair were shared in by all in the fleet, as well as by the nation at large, and grand results were expected. The admiral had engaged one of the steamers plying between Ryde and Portsmouth to come alongside and take his party on shore. Poor Lucy, it was very trying to her, though Mrs Murray from experience could give her heartfelt sympathy. Alick had already sailed for the Black Sea, and Jack some weeks previously had proceeded in the same direction.

We will make our way on board the Tornado. She had a quick passage under sail and steam to Malta, where she lay taking in a fresh supply of coals, and thence proceeded on through the Aegean Sea up the Bosphorus. Jack recognised with no small amount of pleasure many of the islands he had visited as a youngster; he had then thought them very beautiful, and he acknowledged that they were so still, though the proportions of the scenery appeared lessened in his eyes after the grander features of the West Indies and South America.

Tom and Desmond were inclined to turn up their noses at them, not having any great respect for the surrounding classical associations. “Very pretty hills to adorn the surface of a moderate-sized lake,” observed Tom, “but Trinidad and Jamaica completely take the shine out of them.” Higson, whom Jack had obtained as his first lieutenant, was much of the same opinion. Mildmay, who had been appointed by the Admiralty, not having seen the West Indies, was in raptures, and, with notebook in hand, stood dotting down the lines inspired by his muse. Jos Green, the master, suggested that he would be better employed in making outlines of the headlands and other prominent features of the land.

“Very well for you, master, who have to navigate the ship, but we are above such grovelling notions,” answered Mildmay; “you have nothing Byronic in your composition.”

“Just take care when it’s your watch that you don’t run the ship ashore in a fit of poetical abstraction,” said Green, laughing; “your Byronic enthusiasm would not be received as a valid excuse at a court-martial.”

Besides the officers named, Jack had several of his own and Murray’s old shipmates—Dick Needham as gunner, Ben Snatchblock as boatswain, with the two midshipmen, Dicky Duff and Billy Blueblazes; Jerry Bird; the Irishman, Tim Nolan; and several others, all good men and true.

With patriotic pride Jack saw the magnificent fleet under Admiral Dundas lying at anchor in Cavarna Bay as the Tornado steamed into that roadstead. It lies on the western side of the Black Sea, a little to the north of Varna. There lay the Britannia and Trafalgar, of 120 guns, the admiral’s flag flying at the masthead of the first; the Queen, of 116 guns; the Agamemnon, a name renowned in naval story, of 101 guns, carrying the flag of Rear-Admiral Sir Edmund Lyons; the Albion, of 91 guns; the Rodney and London, of 90; the Vengeance, Bellerophon, and Sanspareil, of 84, 80, and 70 guns respectively; the Arethusa, of 50 guns, twice the size of her predecessor, known in song as the “gallant Arethusa;” and numerous other frigates and steamers, the smallest equal in power to any frigate of the olden times. There too lay the French fleet, fifty sail of the line and twenty-one frigates and smaller vessels, with the flag of Admiral Hamelin flying on board the Ville-de-Paris, of 120 guns, and that of the second in command, Admiral Bruat, on board the Montebello, of the same force. What might not these fleets accomplish if only the Russians would dare to sail out from amid their stone walls and fight? There was the rub.

Jack, having paid his respects to the admiral, made his way on board the Briton, accompanied by Archie, whom he knew Murray would be glad to see. Jack, of course, brought despatches from Stella. “Now, Alick,” he said, after the first greetings were over, “you read those quietly, while Gordon and I look up some of our old shipmates whom you have on board.”

Jack was not disappointed, for though he could not boast of having as many friends as Jos Green, he seldom went anywhere without finding some former shipmates. All were in high spirits at the thoughts of active service, though as yet nothing of importance had been done. A very gallant act, however, had been performed, of which Jack now heard. It was very important to gain exact information as to the present state of the harbour of Sebastopol and the forts protecting it, for there was every reason to believe considerable alterations had of late been made. As soon as the news of the massacre of Sinope had reached England, the Government sent out orders to the admirals to enter the Black Sea, to stop every Russian ship they met, and to prevent by force, if necessary, any fresh aggression on the Turkish flag, that no repetition of such atrocity might occur. As war had not yet been formally declared, it was necessary to inform the Cabinet of Saint Petersburg and the Governor of Sebastopol of this resolution. Captain Drummond, commanding the Retribution, a steamer of twenty-eight guns, was accordingly ordered to proceed to Sebastopol, and to deliver the despatches to the governor. In order to make the necessary survey, he was to remain there as long as he possibly could without allowing his design to be suspected by the Russians. It was the middle of winter; the weather, as is generally the case at that time of the year, was very thick. This was favourable to the design. As he had a good chart of the coast, he stood boldly on, keeping the lead going, till he made his way between the two outermost forts into the mouth of the harbour, when he came to an anchor before he was discovered by the Russians. Great must have been their astonishment at seeing an English frigate thus boldly bearding them.

The fires were kept banked up, so that she might, if necessary, make her way out again, should the Russians venture to fire at her, of which there was a very great probability; indeed, it was said that the guns in the forts were actually loaded, ready at a moment to sink the audacious intruder. The instant the anchor was dropped, the boats were sent out to take the necessary soundings, while an accurate survey was commenced of both shores of the harbour and the forts, with the number of their guns which guarded the entrance. The fortifications were indeed of a most formidable character. On two sides of the harbour eleven forts and batteries were counted; one, which appeared to be the key to the entire works of the place, had its guns concealed from view, but in the other ten no fewer than 722 guns, mostly thirty-two pounders, were counted, half of which pointed seaward, and commanded the approach to the harbour; and the other half commanded the harbour, in which lay the Russian fleet itself. In every direction men could be seen strengthening the works and erecting new ones. The town was surrounded by a wall fifteen feet in height, and loopholed for musketry, with a ditch in front. So narrow was the entrance that two line-of-battle ships could barely sail in abreast.

Having delayed as long as he could, Captain Drummond sent a boat with an officer to convey the despatches to the governor, who at first expressed himself very much astonished at the appearance of an English ship at such a juncture. Being assured, however, that the frigate had come to perform an act of courtesy, he was satisfied, and, salutes having been exchanged, the Retribution lifted her anchor and steamed again out of the harbour, with the important knowledge which had been obtained, and which was quickly conveyed to Admiral Dundas. Captain Drummond was of opinion that the place was entirely unassailable by ships alone, but that it might easily be blockaded and harassed by shells thrown into it at night, though he was convinced that should a ship enter the harbour in order to destroy the Russian fleet lying there, it must be annihilated before it could get out again. He advised, therefore, that Sebastopol should be attacked by a combined naval and military force; and, as far as could be learned, the authorities had determined on this mode of proceeding.

Jack, having left Murray time to read his despatches, rejoined him, and heard more of what had taken place. “The army have suffered dreadfully,” said Murray, as Jack was seated in his cabin; “not from the enemy, but from cholera and fever. It has also appeared on board the fleet, and nearly every ship has lost a good many men. Upwards of fifty have died on board the flagship, and we have had thirty or forty on the sick list at a time, many of whom have succumbed to the disease. The steamers have, I hope, a better chance of escaping, but it has not left them entirely alone.”

“Well, I trust we shall keep free,” said Jack. “The best thing we can hope for is that the commander-in-chief will give us something to do before long.”

After describing the halt of the British forces at Scutari, and various incidents which had occurred, Murray went on with an account of what had since taken place: “After remaining for some time at Scutari, the greater part of the English force was moved on to the neighbourhood of Varna, where they have been distributed on the heights south of Varna Bay, and at various other points,” he continued. “The first division, consisting of the Guards and Highlanders, with two field-batteries, are encamped at Gevreckler, a dreary common covered with a short, wiry grass, one of the most desolate-looking plains I ever visited.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” said Jack, “for my brother Sidney is out there. I must try if I can get the chance of paying him a visit. Poor fellow! he was very anxious to come out, but he will find campaigning very different sort of work from a review in Hyde Park.”

“The chances are you are sent there on duty,” observed Murray; “if you go, remember me to Mackenzie, Gordon, and Douglas, of the — Highlanders. Heaven knows whether we shall meet again, for the cholera, I am sorry to say, has got among them, and it is expected that the allied army before long will have some hot work with the Russians, who are now besieging Silistria. The place is holding out nobly, the Turks being aided by those two gallant fellows, Captain Butler and Lieutenant Nasmyth. The Russians have already lost several thousand men before the place, but everybody believes that it must fall ere long, and that the Russians will then march on Constantinople. We shall do our best to stop them; and though we, of course, shall win, it will not be without heavy loss.”

“The fortune of war,” said Jack. “I only hope that the Russian fleet will soon sail out of Sebastopol and give us something to do. I have no fear but that we shall lick them.”

“Of course we shall,” answered Murray; “and if Charley Napier can meet their fleet in the Baltic and give them a drubbing too, they will have had enough of it, and we shall shake hands and be friends.”

Little did the young commanders, who thus easily settled the campaign, dream of the prolonged and sanguinary struggle which was about to take place. Jack and Archie remained on board to dine. The latter went back to the Tornado full of the news he had picked up, which he was as ready to impart to Tom and his shipmates as they were anxious to hear it.

“Look here,” said Archie, as he sat on one side of the berth, with Tom opposite to him, and most of the midshipmen surrounding the table, “I’ve been studying the chart, and I think I’ve a pretty correct notion of the position of the different places. Here’s the Black Sea, which we’ll call an irregular oval running east and west, and at the north side is the Crimea, something like a shoulder of mutton in shape, hanging on by the Isthmus of Perekop to the mainland. Sebastopol, the fortress we hear so much of, is at the southern end of a broad bay on its western side. Going back to the mainland, we find on the southern side of the Danube, which as it approaches the sea runs north, and then again to the east, at a considerable distance from the sea, the fortress of Silistria, where the Turks are bravely holding out against a numerous Russian army. South of Silistria are Varna and Schumla, between which places our troops are encamped, to be ready to intercept the Russians whenever they have captured Silistria, and thus to prevent them from getting to Constantinople. Some way north of the Danube, on the seashore, is Odessa, not far from the mouth of the Dnieper. To the north-east of the Crimea, with a narrow passage between it and the mainland, is the Sea of Azov. Near the entrance to that sea is the mouth of the river Kouban, where the gallant Circassians have long held out against the Russians. Here we have the Bosphorus at the south-west corner of the Black Sea, with Constantinople on the one side, and Scutari on the other; and rather more than half-way along the southern coast is Sinope, where the Russians so barbarously massacred the unfortunate Turks. Thus Russia possesses the northern shore of the sea, Turkey the western and southern, and Circassia the eastern. Still, with a tremendously strong place like Sebastopol almost in its centre, Russia may be said to command the whole of its waters; and that’s the reason, I suppose, that we shall try to destroy Sebastopol and the fleet, which at present lies snugly under the batteries.”

All hands agreed that they understood Archie’s account. He forgot to mention that several fortresses had been erected by the Russians on the Circassian coast. Their garrisons were, however, seldom able to venture far beyond their walls, the brave mountaineers being continually on the watch to attack them. Among other pieces of news that Archie had heard, was that the Furious, Captain Loring, had been sent to Odessa with a flag of truce, to bring off the British consul and any British residents who might be in the town. The day after Jack had joined the fleet, the Furious was seen coming in from the northward, and, soon after she anchored, it was reported that, notwithstanding her flag of truce, the Russians had fired at her, and also at the people she was bringing off.

This, of course, made the admirals very indignant, and several steamers were sent to the north to blockade the port; and, on the 17th of April, the combined fleets weighed and proceeded in the same direction, arriving off Odessa on the 28th.

“I thought it wouldn’t be long before we had something to do,” said Archie, as he and Tom stood on the deck, watching the coast along which the Tornado was steaming.

The city stands on the southern shore of a bay, with the houses built on the slopes, with moderately high hills rising up from it. In the centre of the bay was a citadel armed with heavy guns, overlooking the whole of the bay, with strong batteries placed at different points, so as to sweep it with a crossfire; while the ends of three piers were heavily armed with batteries.

As soon as the ships came off the place, the admiral sent in a summons to the governor, demanding, as an atonement for the insult offered to the flag of truce, that all English and French ships should be sent out, and the Russian ships surrendered; and threatening, should this demand not be complied with, that the combined squadron would open fire on the place. The officers and men on board the ships waited eagerly for the governor’s answer, whether he would yield to their demands and send out the vessels, or would try the chances of war. All hands hoped that he would prove obstinate, and give them the chance of trying their shot and shell against his stone batteries.

By the evening of the 21st no answer had been given, and Jack, with the other captains and commanders, having been summoned on board the flagship, returned in high spirits with the announcement that the place was to be attacked.

The next morning, Ben Snatchblock’s shrill pipe sounding along the decks roused up the watch below, who sprang on deck with even more than their usual alacrity. The midshipmen, turning out of their hammocks, quickly dressed. Everybody by this time knew that work was to be done. The grey light of morning was just breaking in the eastern horizon, beyond the combined fleets of England and France, which lay outside of the steamers. On the west was the city of Odessa, rising to a considerable height above the calm surface of the water, green fields and woods on either side, while in front could be seen the citadel and its numerous forts armed with heavy guns, ready to pour showers of shot and shell on the ships which might dare to oppose them.

The English and French admirals threw out the signal for the steam-squadron to weigh. It was answered with alacrity—the vessels, urged rapidly through the water by their paddles, stood in towards the shore. As they approached, the silence of the morning was broken by the loud roar of the Russian guns from the citadel and lower forts, responded to by those of the allies fired from the decks of the steamers; which, having delivered their broadsides with excellent aim, stood off again to give place to their successors in the line. Having made a semicircle and reloaded, they again came into action; this manoeuvre being repeated without cessation, so that not a moment of breathing-time was allowed to the Russians in the batteries. Most ably were the guns of the latter served, many of them firing red-hot shot as well as round-shot. At length, several of the former striking one of the French steam frigates, flames were seen to burst out from her, and she was compelled to stand out of action while her crew, not without difficulty, extinguished the fire.

A breeze springing up, the gallant Arethusa was seen standing in under sail, and as she closed with the batteries, she opened her fire with tremendous effect; then, putting down her helm, she came about and stood off once more, amid showers of shot and shell which came sweeping over and about her; though, close as she was, not a shot touched her. Greatly to the disappointment of her gallant captain, he saw the signal made from the flagship for his return. Thinking that he might shut one eye, as Nelson did at Copenhagen, he however once more stood in, delivering a fire from his eight-inch-shell guns, standing in even closer than before. This manoeuvre he repeated several times; but again the admiral, fearing that he would receive more damage than would be compensated for by the injury inflicted on the enemy, finally recalled him, and, sending for him on board the flagship, complimented him upon his gallantry and the skilful way in which he had manoeuvred his ship.

The attacking squadron was now strengthened by several other steamers and gunboats. The Tornado had been playing her part. “We shall make our fire tell before long,” observed Jack to Higson, who stood by his side, just as the ship had delivered her broadside and was standing out of action. “See, flames are bursting out from the fort at the end of the mole,—that won’t trouble us again,—look there on the other side, there must be numerous works and storehouses on fire. If we keep on in this fashion the Russians will have the whole place burnt about their ears.”

The men were at their quarters, with shirt-sleeves tucked up, their heads bound by handkerchiefs, and belts round their waists. Another circle was made, when, just as the Tornado had delivered her fire, a terrific sound was heard; the fort in front of her seemed to rise in the air, the flames shot upwards, and huge blocks of stone came hurtling down on either side. Loud cheers burst from the British crew. “Hurrah!” cried Tom, “I hope that won’t be the only fort blown up before long.” As he spoke, it was seen that several other forts were in flames. Soon after the squadron was brought closer in to attack the shipping within the mole. The shot and shell poured upon them rapidly did its work. Some of the vessels were sunk; others, with the rest of the storehouses, were set on fire. No efforts made by the Russians could quench the flames, which continued burning all night.

The work was most complete; all the Government vessels, barracks, storehouses full of ammunition and military stores, were completely destroyed. Next day the Russians were, however, seen attempting to rebuild their earthworks; but a few shells from the Arethusa dispersed them. Several Russian vessels having been captured at sea, the admiral sent in to propose to exchange their crews for those on board the vessels which had been detained in the harbour. The governor, however, replied that he had no authority to make an exchange of prisoners, which personally he much regretted. Admiral Dundas, on hearing this, sent his prisoners, who were all merchant seamen, on shore, observing that he was at war only with the Government of the country, and did not wish to inflict annoyance on the peaceable inhabitants. Some time after the return of the fleet to Baljik, the English merchant seamen who had been detained at Odessa made their appearance, having been released by order of the Czar, who would not be outdone in generosity by the English.

Several vessels had been left in the north to cruise up and down the coast. Among them were the Tornado, Tiger, and two others. Several prizes had been made when the Tiger parted company in a thick fog. Jack had been for some time looking out for her, when the sound of heavy guns was heard inshore. The Tornado, in company with another steamer, stood on in the direction from whence the sounds proceeded; in a short time a rapid firing of musketry was heard.

“One of our cruisers is being engaged with the enemy,” observed Higson.

“I suspect so,” said Jack; “but I very much fear that she must be on shore. At all events, we must stand in and drive away the enemy, while we try to get her off.”

Jack hailed his consort, and, putting on all steam, the two vessels stood towards the land. Just then the firing ceased, and directly afterwards, the fog lifting, Cape Fortan, a headland about four miles to the south of Odessa, appeared in sight. Every glass on board was turned in the direction of the land.

“There is a vessel on shore close to the cape,” observed Higson.

“She must, I fear, be the Tiger” said Jack; “we may still be in time to help her. Perhaps she has driven off the Russians.”

“I am afraid not,” said Higson, “for I can make out several boats surrounding her. I fear that Captain Giffard has been compelled to strike his flag, and that the Russians are removing the prisoners.”

“He would not have done that as long as he had the slightest hope of saving his ship,” said Jack; “still we may be in time to prevent her from falling into the enemy’s hands.”

While all on board were watching the ship on shore, flames were seen to burst out from her fore and aft.

“She’s done for; and all her crew, I fear, will be made prisoners,” said Jack.

Deep sympathy was felt on board for the unfortunate ship’s company, and vexation that so fine a vessel should be lost. Little hope remained of their being able to extinguish the flames. Still Jack determined to try what could be done. In a few minutes, however, the matter was set at rest—the fire increased, the masts and spars of the doomed ship were enveloped in flames; and then there came a thundering report, her deck lifted, the masts shot upwards, and an instant afterwards, as they came down hissing into the water, a few blackened timbers alone remained of the stout ship which had lately floated buoyantly on the ocean with her gallant crew.

Jack and his consort opened their fire on the Russian troops, who still remained in sight; but they, knowing that their field-pieces could produce no effect upon the ships, quickly retired out of harm’s way, and the steamers again stood off the shore.

It was not till some time afterwards, on the release of the crew, that Jack heard of the circumstances connected with the loss of the Tiger. She had gone on shore during a fog, when her situation was perceived by a body of Russian troops, who at once brought a battery of field-guns to bear upon her, assailing her incessantly also with a fire of musketry. Her captain was suffering from a severe fever at the time, but, immediately going on deck, was giving directions for hauling her off when he fell mortally wounded, both his thighs broken by a round-shot. Several of his men were struck down at the same time; and at length the first lieutenant, finding it impossible to get the ship off, hauled down his flag. Directly the Russians ceased firing, boats came off, and the officers and crew, with their wounded captain, were carried on shore. Instead, however, of receiving the rough usage they expected, all the prisoners, especially the wounded, were treated by the Russians with the most considerate humanity; and they acknowledged that, had they been wrecked on their own coast, they could not have received greater attention and kindness than was bestowed on them by their enemies. Nothing, however, could save the life of Captain Giffard, who quickly sank from the effects of his terrible wound.

Jack, as well as several of his brother commanders, had long been wishing to take a look at Sebastopol, knowing that the information they might gain would be acceptable to the admirals. The Russian fleet, supposed to be numerous and powerful, had not yet shown itself outside the harbour since its cowardly attack on the Turks at Sinope. Jack talked the subject over with Mildmay; the latter was ready for anything. He especially wished to take a sketch of the renowned fortress, and purposed making some lines on the subject. Jos Green was delighted with the idea; but how was it to be accomplished? They might run in at night, but then, as he observed, as they should see nothing, they would not be much the wiser. They were discussing the matter, when the look-out shouted, “A sail on the weather-bow.”

The vessel’s head was turned in the direction of the stranger, and, the wind being light, she had no more chance of escaping than a mouse has from a cat in open ground. She proved to be a brig under Russian colours, though the master and several of the crew were Austrians. They took their fate very quietly, and were ready to give all the information they possessed. The master had frequently been at Sebastopol in former days; he stated that an Austrian steam-packet, about the size of the Tornado, occasionally called off the port. Jack got a full description of the vessel from his informant, and he and his lieutenants agreed that they could give the Tornado much the same appearance.

“I have often read in the old war of the way vessels were disguised to deceive the enemy. It is quite a lawful proceeding,” Jack observed.

Sail-makers and painters were fully employed in shaping and painting old sails to conceal the heavy guns and figure-head, and to alter the general appearance of the ship. When all was done, Jack, with his first lieutenant and Needham, pulled off to a distance to have a look at her, and were fully satisfied that the keenest of eyes on shore would not discover her real character. The crew were also ordered to rig in their working-day clothes, and it was arranged that one watch should go below, while only a few officers in undress uniform were to appear on deck.

Highly delighted, Jack steered towards the lion’s den. The Austrian skipper was in a state of great trepidation. “If discovered, the ship will be inevitably sunk!” he exclaimed.

“No fear,” said Jack; “we’ll see what’s to be seen, and then steam out again at a rate which will give the Russian gunners no little trouble to hit us.”

The midshipmen were of course in high glee; Tom was only sorry that Desmond was not with them. “How he would have enjoyed the fun!” he exclaimed; “only perhaps he’s finding some still better in the Baltic.”

That night, few slept out the morning watch, all being so eager to have an early look at the fortress, as Jack had determined to enter the harbour soon after daybreak, when, as might be supposed, the garrison would not have got the sleep out of their eyes. As morning broke, the high cliffs on either side Sebastopol appeared in sight. The Austrian colours were hoisted, the greater portion of the crew were sent below, the remainder being ordered to lounge about in merchantman fashion; while Jack and Jos Green and the two lieutenants, with the Austrian skipper, walked the deck with the perfect composure of men who were well acquainted with the place. Keen eyes were, however, looking out from many a port at the rocky shores ahead, as the Tornado drew in to the land. Two brigs-of-war were discovered at anchor on either side of the harbour’s mouth, and as of course they would be on the alert, there was a great probability of their discovering the character of the stranger. A few shot might, however, quickly send them to the bottom, in case they should attempt to stop her. The crew were ordered to be in readiness to spring on deck at a moment’s notice, and every man below hoped that that notice would be given. On stood the Tornado, no sign being given on board the brigs that her character was suspected. Jack and his officers, as the steamer ran in, had time to count the guns which frowned down upon them from the four forts on either side of the harbour, each with three tiers of batteries; and, what was of more importance still, to make out the number of ships in the harbour.

“I can see three three-deckers and several two-deckers,” said Jack.

“There are at least four frigates,” added Higson, “and fully half a dozen smaller craft; and see, over the point, those mastheads; there are four of them, and evidently ships of the line. That makes not much fewer than our fleet; if they’ve any pluck in them, they’ll come out and fight us; and our admirals are the men to give them every chance of doing so.”

The Tornado had now got as far up the harbour as Jack considered prudent, and she was gradually brought round as if about to come to an anchor, with her head turned towards the harbour’s mouth. It had required no small amount of resolution to bring her into that position; at any moment twelve hundred pieces of artillery in those frowning forts above their heads might open their fire, and send their shot, which, plunging down upon the ship’s deck, would turn her into a sieve in a few seconds. Jack and his officers were equal to the occasion. He and Higson calmly lighted their cigars, and, as they walked backwards and forwards on deck, puffed away with might and main; both of them, however, keeping an eye on the forts, waiting for the moment when they might open fire. The ship, having been brought round, glided slowly on for some distance; then Jack gave the order to turn ahead at full speed, and out she shot between the two brigs, their crews even then wondering what had induced her so suddenly to take her departure. Not till she was well outside them did they begin to suspect the character of the stranger which had paid them a visit that morning, when their signal-flags were seen run up to the mastheads, answered by two or three of the outermost frigates.

Just then a schooner was seen entering under Russian colours. “We must take her,” cried Jack; “the impudence of the act will have a good effect, and show the Russians what Englishmen can dare and do. Haul down those colours—hoist our ensign,” he added. The change was rapidly effected; the signalising between the brigs and frigates went on still more vehemently, while the former sent a few ineffectual shot at their audacious visitor.

“Keep her for the schooner,” cried Jack. The skipper of the Russian merchantman was evidently much astonished at perceiving the Austrian steamer suddenly turned into an English man-of-war. Finding that he could by no possibility escape, he hauled down not only his colours, but his sails, when the steamer, running alongside his vessel, took her in tow, having first removed him and his crew to her deck. He proved, like the first, to be an Austrian; the two skippers mutually condoled each other on their misfortunes.

Away the Tornado steamed out to sea, but a sharp eye was kept on the proceedings of the Russian fleet. The two brigs were seen getting under way; presently afterwards three of the outside frigates slipped from their moorings, and stood out under all the canvas they could spread in chase of the daring intruder. The officers and crew had now mustered on deck, and, the painted canvas being got rid of, the ship was quickly made ready for action.

“Only let two of them come on at a time, and we shall have them in tow before long,” observed Dick Needham, a sentiment which was heartily responded to. The breeze, however, increased, and the frigates came dashing on, keeping pretty close together, at a rate which made it more than possible that they would overtake him. Jack heartily wished that he could have carried off the schooner as a prize, but it was not worth while to risk the loss of his ship in making the attempt. He could not hope to capture even one of the enemy, unless he could separate them, and this, as they were favoured by the wind, he saw that he should be unable to do. Prudence, therefore, compelled him very unwillingly to cast off the prize, upon which the Russians speedily pounced, but only to find her empty.

The crew cheered heartily, while many a laugh resounded through the ship, as they witnessed the Russians’ disappointment, and saw the squadron sail back again into port, jack communicated the information he had received to the admiral. Soon afterwards the fleet of the allies appeared before Sebastopol, two or three of their ships having been sent out of sight in order to make their forces equal, and to induce the Russians to come out and fight them. The latter, however, knew too well what would be the result to make the attempt. Admiral Lyons sailed away with a small squadron to reconnoitre the shores of Georgia and Circassia. During the trip, he endeavoured to persuade Schamyl, the far-famed Circassian chief, to co-operate with him in taking the fortresses of Soujak and Anapa, two of the only three fortresses still held by the Russians; but the old warrior was not in a condition to undertake the enterprise. Redoubt Kaleh was however attacked, and the garrison, after setting fire to it, retreated. The number of prizes captured by the squadron, which sailed throughout the Black Sea, sweeping it of every vessel except those of the allies, was very great. Jack was elsewhere, he having been employed in running several times to Constantinople, and back to Cavarna.