Mr. Binnacle took command of the privateer. The Alger, which was evidently sinking fast, was now aflame with lights, and all firing from her had ceased. The men clustered on her decks were shouting wildly for help. Some even leapt into the water, and strove to reach the Mary Rose by swimming. Regardless, for the moment, of everything except the saving of life, Binnacle ordered the boats to be got out, but soon learnt that he had not a single boat of any kind which would float. In the meantime the Troude was warily coming up, with the obvious intention of continuing the action. Binnacle’s decision was soon taken. He steamed round the Alger so as to place her between him and his new enemy, and when he was as close to her as he dared venture, hailed her.

“I have no boats,” he cried. “Signal to your consort to help you. I won’t interfere unless she attacks me. God preserve you!” And then, pretty confident that his permission would be gladly taken advantage of, he steamed back to where the Cécille lay motionless on the water a mile or more to the eastward.

The Cécille, it was now plain, had struck, and as the Mary Rose approached her, she hailed to say so. Binnacle replied, ordering her to send a boat, and in five minutes a boat left her side.

The officer who came in her was a grey-headed captain in full dress. He climbed on deck with some little difficulty, for his left arm was bound up in a sling; but although, as his slit sleeve showed, he had put on his full uniform after he had received his wound, and although he was in considerable pain, there were about him no other traces of having been in action. His face was clean, his linen was spotless, and his hair and whiskers were carefully brushed. The side was piped for him, and, hat in hand, he stood with bowed head asking in broken English for the captain.

Binnacle moved forward, a great contrast in every way to his visitor. The latter was clean, and almost spruce. The former had his clothes burned full of holes, and wet blood upon his cuffs, while his face was black, his hands were dirty, his head was bare, and his hair was badly singed. “Have I the honour of speaking to the captain of this ship?” asked the Frenchman in a voice which, though distinct, trembled with emotion.

“The captain is wounded, sir,” rejoined Binnacle; “but I am in command.”

“Perhaps, nevertheless, you will conduct me to the captain.”

Bowling lay near the break of the poop, where Dr. Rhubarb was attending to him. He had not received any further injury of importance. He had merely fainted from the effects of excitement acting upon his already sorely injured frame, and he was now regaining his senses. Binnacle pointed him out to the Frenchman, who approached him. Bowling looked up, and, realising the situation, struggled to his feet and took off his cap. But that Mr. Nipcheese supported him he would, however, have again fallen.

“Sir,” said the French captain, who had put his hat on the bitts, and who now tendered his sword, “my engines are disabled, half my crew are killed, and I have no choice but to surrender. It is a sad consolation for me to know that I surrender to an officer of your distinguished gallantry. Permit me to say that you have fought me splendidly, and have handled your ship to perfection. I do myself the honour of constituting myself your prisoner, and of begging you to assist my poor fellows.”

He had prepared this little speech, no doubt, and had steeled himself to utter it. When he had finished it he burst into tears and sobbed like a child. Bowling, still dazed, grasped the proffered sword, and attempted to reply, but was too weak to speak aloud. He could only beckon Binnacle to him and whisper: “Poor chap! Tell him to keep it, Binnacle. And do you carry on.” Then once more he fainted.

It was arranged that the prize should be towed to Malta, unless, indeed, her engines could in the meantime be rendered serviceable, and unless the other vessels of the enemy endeavoured to interfere. But it soon appeared that the enemy had no further stomach for fighting. The Troude, lying close to the Alger, was busily engaged in saving the ship’s company of that ill-starred craft, which, before daylight, but not until all her people had been removed, gave a great roll to port, and pitching down by the bows, sank; whereupon the Troude steamed slowly away to the westward. In the interval Lieutenant Tripper had gone to take charge of the Cécille.

He found on board of her a perfectly awful state of affairs. Tompion had worked his guns only too well. The Mary Rose, with her concentrated broadside, had raked the great French cruiser fore and aft along nearly the whole length of her spacious decks; and by that one terrible discharge had not only killed or wounded 239 out of the 486 officers and men in the Cécille, but had dismounted two out of six 6·4-in. and four out of ten 5·4-in. guns; had carried away the foremast close to the deck, had demolished the forward funnel, and had literally filled up the open engine-room hatch with heavy débris from the foremast, the funnel, the fore-bridge, the boats, and the deck structures. The débris had choked and jammed the engines, and had so caused a general dislocation of the machinery. Two out of the three 9·4-in. shells had, it appeared, burst high up under the upper deck, and, besides tearing it open and covering the upper deck from end to end with splinters, had spread equal devastation on the lower deck, which was in places actually covered with the mangled and unrecognisable remains of brave men, and across which a wash of blood swept from side to side as the ship rolled. Tripper was not squeamish. He had already seen some frightful sights in his own ship. But when he first went down to the Cécille’s lower deck and experienced the horrible warm odour of the slaughter-house there; when, lantern in hand, he saw the splashed brains, the fragments of flesh, and the trickling streams of crimson; and when he heard the sounds that filled that den of terrors, he could barely force himself to remain. Here a 6·4-in. gun, weighing about four tons, had been torn from its mounting and flung upon three men, whom it had crushed out of all shape of human kind; there again a body cut in half lay across the gangway and oozed blood and horror. The new war methods may not be more cruel, nor even more fatal than the old, but they are a hundred times more fearful.

When matters had been put a little ship-shape on board the prize, and when some of the prisoners had been removed from her, and a small prize crew, which could hardly be spared, sent on board from the Mary Rose, a hawser was passed to the Cécille, and she was taken in tow.

Malta was about 750 miles steam from the scene of action, and had the privateer been alone, she would probably have reached Valetta Harbour by six o’clock on the evening of Saturday, the 16th. With the French cruiser astern of her she did not, however, reach it until twenty-four hours later, and even then she made very good time, seeing that she covered the distance at an average speed of over 11·3 knots. This she could not have done had not a favourable wind sprung up, and had not the prize been able to slightly help her by hoisting a certain amount of sail.

During the passage Bowling picked up wonderfully, as did also Maintruck, Day, and Salthorse, and when, late on Sunday afternoon, the Mary Rose and the Cécille dropped anchor, by direction from the Admiral, off Point Bichi, all four of the wounded officers were not only on deck, but on their legs. For a fortnight Malta had been almost cut off from the rest of the world. A few Italian small craft had run across from Syracuse and Alicata, but they had busied themselves with the bringing of supplies rather than of news. All the cables were cut; a torpedo boat, which had been sent for orders to Messina, had not returned, and was supposed to have been captured; and a considerable French force, including the ironclads Richelieu, Friedland, Bayard, and Duguesclin, and the cruisers Milan, Jean Bart, and Faucon, having been observed off the island, it was not difficult to account for the non-arrival of the duplicate dispatches which, as Bowling knew, had been sent overland from London at about the time of his own departure from the Tyne.

The arrival of the two ships caused a scene of the wildest enthusiasm. Within a few minutes the harbour, as if by magic, became crowded with boats, the occupants of which seemed to be never tired of staring at the blue ensign which floated above the tricolour at the Cécille’s peak, or of examining the various marks of rough usage with which both vessels were liberally covered, and ever and anon some excitable person on the water started rounds of cheering for the mysterious British cruiser, and for her gallant but unknown captain, officers, and complement.

The warships in harbour or in dock were the Colossus, Sanspareil, Polyphemus, and Surprise, besides the half-dismantled Orion and the Victoria, which was, for the time, absolutely unserviceable. Their boats came off to the strangers, and many of those who came in them were rather astonished to find on the Mary Rose’s quarter-deck old shipmates, or at least old friends. The Admirals, also, too anxious to be able to stand strictly on their dignity, came off, the Mediterranean Commander-in-Chief in the Sanspareil’s galley, and the Admiral-Superintendent in his steam launch. To the latter officer Bowling had the satisfaction of personally handing Sir Humphrey Thornbeigh’s dispatch. Warm indeed were the congratulations which he received from all ranks when, in as few words as possible, and very modestly, he told his story.

“By Gad, Bowling,” said the Admiral-Superintendent, a little man, who habitually jumped about as if he were treading upon hot bricks, “to be able to say that I had done what you have done, I would willingly surrender all this gold lace. Damme, sir; if they don’t make a K.C.B. of you, I shall leave the service in disgust—when the war is over, of course.”

“I’m more desirous to get a little of the gold lace, sir,” laughed Bowling. “If they will give me my three stripes I shall be content, although that would involve my leaving the ship.”

The two Admirals, as soon as they had satisfied a little of their natural curiosity concerning what Bowling could tell them, took possession, without any ceremony, of his cabin, and in privacy opened Sir Humphrey’s dispatch. It was externally addressed to the Admiral-Superintendent, because Sir Humphrey, when he wrote it, was of course ignorant as to the whereabouts of the Mediterranean Commander-in-Chief, but it was internally addressed to the senior officer at Malta. It directed him to spare no efforts in getting ready for service as many vessels as possible, and then, taking command, to proceed to sea with them; running as little risk as might be, yet if necessary at all hazards. The object to be strictly kept in view was to make a rendezvous at one o’clock a.m. on Monday, June 1st, five miles south of Europa Point; and to effect this everything was to be sacrificed. “At the place and hour mentioned,” continued the dispatch, “I purpose to concentrate all available forces from Malta, from Gibraltar, and from home, in order, if the French Fleet be still off the Rock, to annihilate it; and if that Fleet be gone elsewhere, to resume our command of the Mediterranean, and then to follow the enemy, should they have left it for the Atlantic or the Channel.”

The dispatch—which was a long one—need not be further quoted. It contained plain directions as to the manner in which each squadron was to approach the rendezvous; a special code of signals; and minute instructions as to the course to be pursued in almost every conceivable combination of circumstances; and it concluded with the expression of a hope that the senior officer would treat Captain Bowling of the Mary Rose, letter of marque, with favourable consideration, and would utilise the services which Captain Bowling, Sir Humphrey felt sure, would be very eager to render to Her Majesty’s officers.

From that moment, Bowling, although he had no rank, held a unique and exceptional position. He was taken into the councils of the Admirals to an extent to which even the oldest post-captains were not; his advice was not merely asked, but frequently followed, and he was offered every facility which the dockyard officials, without prejudice to the naval service, could supply towards refitting his ship and bringing her sorely reduced complement once more up to the mark. Of men there was no lack, for many large merchant ships, including several vessels of the P. and O. Company’s fleet, were laid up in harbour. Indeed it was found possible to refit and re-man the Cécille as well as the Mary Rose. The former was re-named Rose, and the Commander-in-Chief suggested that, unless Bowling very much desired to keep her under his orders, she should be purchased into the Navy and officered by naval officers. Bowling preferred the latter course; whereupon the Admiral assumed the responsibility of the bargain, and the prize having been duly condemned, he gave Bowling bills for the very large amount at which she was officially valued.

In pursuit of the orders from home, Malta Dockyard, which had been busy enough before the Mary Rose’s arrival, became busier than ever. The Sanspareil was in No. 4 Dock, the Colossus in Somerset Dock, and the Polyphemus in No. 2—Inner Dock—so that the other vessels of large size had to make shift to repair alongside; but labour being plentiful, and the Admiral-Superintendent having with foresight erected some temporary but very powerful shears, it was found possible to lighten both the Mary Rose and the Rose sufficiently to enable their underwater injuries, which were not extensive, to be got at and set to rights. The Commander-in-Chief decided to sail on the evening of Wednesday, the 27th; but he did not allow his determination to become known to anyone except his brother Admiral and Bowling. Everyone, however, knew quite well that exciting events were in the air. Such matters seem to have mysterious tongues of their own, and to be unable to keep silence concerning themselves, even although they do not always blab of particular details.

In the battle off Toulon both the 111-ton guns of the Sanspareil had been put, or rather had put themselves, out of action, but as at Malta there were neither reserve guns nor appliances for, in so short a time, lifting out the old ones, they were obliged to be left in the ship. The accident was a very serious one, for it condemned the most important portion of the great vessel’s armament to inactivity, and deprived the craft of the whole of her bow fire. This being so, the Admiral, though very unwilling to desert her, felt it incumbent upon him to haul down his flag in her, and to transfer it to the Colossus. He even went so far as to question whether he should allow the Sanspareil to go to sea at all, and only at the urgent solicitation of her captain did he at length consent to permit her to accompany the squadron when it should leave harbour. In the meantime, and in order to neutralise to some slight extent the ship’s absence of heavy guns forward, he succeeded in getting a couple of 4·7-in. quick-firing guns mounted behind shields on the spar deck abreast of the funnels, so that they were partially protected by the otherwise useless turret, and could fire over it.

The ten days that were spent by the Mary Rose at Malta went very quickly. Work went on by night with as little interruption as by day, and upon the morning of the 27th all the vessels with which the Admiral intended to sail had hauled out from their docks and jetties, and lay at anchor in harbour, fully coaled, and in all respects ready for sea. During these ten days very little news of a trustworthy nature dribbled in from the outer world. It became known, however, that a further attempt by the French against the ships collected at Spithead had been repulsed without serious loss on the British side; but that, on the other hand, several open towns on the south coast had been bombarded by French cruisers, after having declined to pay ransom; that the Channel trade, so far as Great Britain was concerned, was almost at a standstill; and that in some parts of the country bloody bread riots had occurred, while in London itself there had been much disorder, owing to the supposed undue dilatoriness of the Board of War, and to the great rise in prices. Sir Humphrey Thornbeigh had been burnt in effigy in Trafalgar Square, and had immediately afterwards ridden out of the Admiralty court-yard, addressed the crowd from on horseback, and been cheered by the rabble as he returned. It became known also that, as late as the 22nd, the nightly bombardment of Gibraltar was being continued, and that the French were pretty confident of reducing the place by the end of the month, as they had improvised some floating batteries, armed with mortars of the largest calibre, throwing mélinite shells, which were excessively destructive.

Bowling was almost well, and, but for the loss of his eye, was very little the worse for having been in action. Hard work, indeed, seemed to be the best restorative for both him and his officers.

The 27th of May was a magnificent day. The sky was clear and of the deepest blue, and the gentle breeze was barely sufficient to blow out the bunting of the ships in harbour and the Union Jacks of the forts on shore. At ten o’clock the Admiral suddenly signalled for steam to be got up ready for 12 knots at five o’clock; at half-past four, having already un-moored, he signalled “Prepare to weigh,” and at five he weighed and led his ships out. Earlier in the day he had sent torpedo boats to scout all round the island, and, as they returned reporting no signs of the enemy, he did not hesitate to put to sea before dark. It subsequently appeared that the French vessels, which for a time had formed a squadron of observation off Malta, had, two days earlier, been ordered to reinforce the Fleet off the Rock, preparatory to the general and, as was hoped, the final bombardment, the French Admiralty having made up its mind that the ships in Malta were too badly damaged to venture much for some time to come, and too weak to dare to come out, even if they were patched up. Only a single cruiser had been left to watch, and she had, it turned out, gone off in chase of a vessel which she took to be British, but which was really the Italian corvette Cristoforo Colombo, bound for Palermo. The excellent Italian captain did not deem it to be his duty to enlighten his French “opposite number,” and steamed gaily away at 14 knots without answering the signals which the cruiser made to him. He was at length overhauled, and he then made, of course, most courteous explanations; but by that time the British squadron was at sea, and well on its way to the westward. When the cruiser returned to her station it was too dark for her to discover that the bird had flown. Next morning she did discover it, and then she pelted off to Toulon with the news, and received from the Commander-in-Chief there a sound rating for having been lured away by an Italian, who, as the Admiral chose to put it, was “only an Englishman in disguise.” There may have been an atom of truth in this assertion, for throughout the war the Italians certainly, although they always spoke French with the greatest politeness, spoke it, as used to be said at the time, with a decidedly English accent. In other words, they scarcely disguised their sympathies, and would, upon the smallest encouragement, have openly declared them. Happily for all parties, they managed to preserve for themselves that greatest of blessings—peace.

In the days of sailing ships pre-concerted action between fleets or even between single vessels was difficult and precarious. It was not, for example, of much use for the Admiralty to base important plans upon the junction at a particular time and in a particular place of two forces. It might be absolutely impossible for one or both of the forces to reach the spot within a month of the specified hour,—impossible, not because of the occurrence of unforeseen accidents, but simply because of the normal and natural conditions under which the work had to be done. If the wind did not blow, the ship did not go. But in modern days ships are independent of winds, tides, and currents. Mail steamers run, and have run for years, between points thousands of miles apart with almost the punctuality of railway trains; and if it were desirable that at eight o’clock in the morning of every Monday in the year a vessel should leave New York, and that, at eight o’clock in the morning of the following Wednesday week she should drop anchor in the Cove of Cork, there is no doubt whatever that in fifty cases out of every fifty-two, the programme could be literally carried out. If, in short, a slight margin over and above the time actually necessary for the voyage in moderate weather be allowed, ships can, barring unforeseen and unpreventible accidents, now move about with something akin to absolute punctuality. This fact lies at the root of all modern naval strategy, and at the root, also, of much of modern naval tactics; but it had never before been so frankly recognised and so boldly utilised as it was for the combined operations which were planned at Whitehall to be carried out on the 1st of June in the Strait of Gibraltar.

The gallant Admiral whose flag flew in the Colossus took care to keep a certain amount of time in hand from the beginning. At twelve knots, Gibraltar is, as nearly as possible, ninety-six hours’ steam from Malta. The rendezvous was for one o’clock a.m. on June 1st; therefore in order to keep it, a squadron steaming the whole distance at twelve knots, with a little speed in hand, was not obliged to leave Malta until one a.m. on the morning of May 28th. But the Admiral prudently allowed himself an additional eight hours; and thus, towards the end of his cruise, when he might reasonably expect to fall in with the enemy, he was able to go warily.

The last day was indeed an anxious time. To approach the African shore was to risk encountering French vessels on their way to or from Gibraltar and Algiers. To approach the Spanish shore, on the other hand, was to risk encountering French vessels on their way to or from Gibraltar and Toulon. Upon both routes men-of-war must necessarily be continually moving, Toulon being the repairing, and Algiers or Bizerta in all probability the coaling depôt for the hostile Fleet; and although the Admiral had come out to fight, he had come to fight in a particular place at a particular time, and not otherwise. In this difficulty the Rose was useful. Her French build and rig, and her general resemblance to other cruisers which still flew the tricolour, rendered her, the Admiral felt, invaluable as a scout; and, as a matter of fact, in the early morning of the 31st she was able, without exciting suspicion, to warn the squadron of the vicinity of a French ironclad which, although she might have been captured, might also have fatally delayed the combined movements upon which the success of the entire scheme depended. The Admiral kept for the most part a course as equidistant as possible between Spain and Africa all that day, the order being Colossus, Sanspareil, Polyphemus, and Mary Rose, in column of line ahead, with the Rose on the port and the Surprise on the starboard bow of the column at a distance of five miles. Bowling was treated almost exactly as one of the captains of the squadron, and obeyed signals, etc., just as they did; nor, owing to the good services which he had already done, was there the least trace of jealousy concerning him. Indeed, the squadron was proud of him.

The grand bombardment of Gibraltar began on the night between May 30th and May 31st. The French had previously collected for the purpose a fleet of twenty-five ironclads, inclusive of armoured coast-defence ships, ten floating batteries specially prepared, and numerous small unarmoured vessels, each mounting a single heavy gun. Attached to this force were two large squadrons of cruisers, one of which was disposed fan-wise at the Atlantic end, and the other at the Mediterranean end of the Straits, so as to give timely alarm in case of any threatened interference with what was going on at the Rock. In fact, almost the whole available resource of the French Navy was concentrated for the occasion, it having been determined in Paris that—at all costs—Gibraltar must be made to fall. Many of the most enlightened French critics doubted the wisdom of this policy; and, among others, M. E. Weyl, the distinguished naval editor of Le Yacht. In the course of an article, which he published within a few hours after the scheme had been decided upon, he wrote:—

“We shall never deal an effective blow at the naval power of Britain by hurling ourselves against her fortresses. We have rightly made up our minds, for the present, to leave Malta alone. Why not deal in a similar manner with Gibraltar? And why not consistently pursue those principles which, in the ardour of the moment and before the theorists had time to make themselves heard, we put in force off Toulon on the glorious day of the 28th of April? Gibraltar, like Malta, stands or falls with the British Navy. On the other hand, we may possess ourselves both of Gibraltar and of Malta without materially or permanently diminishing the power of our opponents on the sea. It is our duty, rather, to keep a single eye on the Navy of the enemy. If we destroy that, we gain everything; if we do not destroy it, all our other gains will be vain and illusory. Let us, then, implore the Ministry to alter its plans while there is yet time. Let us seek for a decisive action on the ocean. Already, in the past, Gibraltar has been the scene of one of the most costly of naval follies. Surely we are not about to deliberately repeat the stupidity of 1782? To attack Gibraltar with this huge force is to court disaster.”

But the French Ministry did not listen to the advice of M. Weyl, and of those who, with him, were students of the great principles enunciated by Captain Mahan. The official mind could not resist the specious reasoning: “If you place the tricolour on Gibraltar you become the doorkeeper of the Mediterranean;” and so, as has been said, the grand bombardment, began. It was resumed on the night of May 31st-June 1st, and fearful indeed upon forts, towns, and rock itself was the effect of that unexampled fire. But for two nights only did it continue.

At dusk, on the evening of the 31st, the little squadron from Malta slowed down to nine knots, being then about fifty miles from the Gut of Gibraltar. Steam was, however, kept for full speed, and the Admiral signalled that, as soon as any French cruiser should be observed ahead, full speed should be put on, and that the squadron should thenceforward restrain its pace only by the best speed of the flagship. The Surprise and Rose were directed to fall back before the enemy, and to take station astern of the other vessels, and avoid engaging.

The incidents leading up to the battle off Toulon and to the passage of the Straits by the Mary Rose had been exciting; but they were far less so than the incidents which were now leading up to an action, the nature and results of which not one man of the thousands who were about to take part in it could form even the faintest idea of. Three separate forces were moving independently upon the scene and towards the great French Fleet. None knew for certain how any one of the others was composed; none had any means of making sure that any one of the others would arrive at the right moment; and none knew either the strength or the disposition of the foe. Only afterwards did the world at large learn that the Fleet from Spithead consisted, so far as armoured ships were concerned, of two divisions—the first composed of the Royal Sovereign (flag), Anson, Camperdown, Howe, Rodney, Aurora, Immortalité, Narcissus, and Galatea, and the second of the Hercules (flag), Triumph, Neptune, Audacious, Iron Duke, Superb, Northampton, Nelson, and Shannon; that the Trafalgar, Dreadnought, and Australia issued from Gibraltar, and that from Malta came the Colossus (flag), Sanspareil, Polyphemus, and Mary Rose. The first Spithead and the Gibraltar and Malta divisions—fifteen ironclads in all—had orders to effect the junction at the rendezvous at one o’clock a.m. The second Spithead division, to which were attached an exceptional number of fast protected cruisers, had orders to make the same rendezvous forty minutes later, and had, in fact, left British waters two days earlier than the second division.

The arrangement seems to have been upon the whole a very prudent one. The second Spithead division was the weakest and slowest. Its numerous fast scouts would bring it, while on the passage, early information of the approach of an enemy, and would enable it, if necessary, to fall back upon the first and most fast and powerful division. On the other hand, the first division, in conjunction with the modern ships from Malta and Gibraltar, would, if the French were still engaged at the Rock, bear the first brunt of the fight, and allow the second division in its wake to come fresh upon a partially disorganised and probably badly damaged foe. The weakness of the scheme, if weakness there were, lay in the fact that at the outset fifteen British ironclads might be opposed to twenty-five French. But it must be recollected that while nearly all these British ships were vessels of very large size and modern design, at least half the French ships were smaller and older, and several of them, as, for example, the Colbert, Richelieu, Bayard, and La Galissonnière, were partially built of wood. Even the ships of the second Spithead division were most of them, vessel for vessel, nearly equal to the average of the French battleships off Gibraltar.

It is hopeless to attempt to describe in detail the episodes of a great Fleet action. The best general description of the battle of Gibraltar is contained in the official dispatch which was afterwards addressed by the Commander-in-Chief to the Chief Director of Fleets, and which is here copied:—

“Royal Sovereign, Gibraltar Bay,
“June 1st.

“Sir,—I have the honour to inform you that it has pleased God to bless Her Majesty’s arms with signal success, and that the combined movements which were directed to be carried out by the Fleet under my command, and by the squadrons at Malta and Gibraltar respectively, have been performed, and have to-day resulted in the gaining of a victory which, while it will, I trust, add a ray of glory to Her Majesty’s crown, will also, I pray, tend in no small degree to benefit the Empire and to bring to a speedy conclusion the present unhappy war.

THE “ROYAL SOVEREIGN.”

“The second division of the Spithead Fleet, composed of H.M. ships mentioned in the margin, sailed from Spithead on the 24th of May. The first division, with my flag in the Royal Sovereign, followed, in pursuance of your instructions, on the 26th. Neither division encountered on the passage any force of the enemy, and on the 31st, at noon, I communicated with and passed the second division, and proceeded at 13 knots for the mouth of the Strait. Shortly before 11 p.m., at which hour we could distinctly hear that the bombardment of Gibraltar was being vigorously continued, my cruisers, the night being clear and brilliant, sighted the cruisers of the French Fleet about six miles ahead, and soon afterwards exchanged shots with some of the most advanced of them. The French cruisers presently withdrew, and I increased speed to 14 knots, formed my command into quarter line, and disposed my cruisers on the quarters and at the rear of the division, with orders to them to expose themselves as little as possible, to keep out of the way of the second division as it came up forty minutes later, and, generally, to be prepared to render assistance to the battleships. The French Fleet, upon receiving intelligence of our approach, must have relinquished the bombardment, and in a formation of which I could not learn the nature, steamed leisurely to the eastward. At this time we had not ourselves sighted it, but a little before one o’clock, when we were already nearly abreast of Europa Point, and when the Trafalgar, Dreadnought, and Australia were visible coming out of the Bay, we discovered the enemy about seven miles ahead, fiercely engaged with the squadron from Malta. This consisted only of the Colossus, Sanspareil, Polyphemus, and Surprise of Her Majesty’s Navy, but attached to it, and obeying the orders of the Vice-Admiral, were the Mary Rose, armoured privateer, commanded by Mr. Thomas Bowling, late a lieutenant of the Royal Navy, and the Rose, late Cécille, a prize which was captured from the French Navy by the Mary Rose in a very gallant manner on the 14th ult., and which had been purchased into the service and manned at Malta by the Vice-Admiral upon his own responsibility, a course which I venture to hope will meet with approval. The Malta squadron was handled with conspicuous ability, but, ere I could come up with the enemy, was, I regret to say, very severely mauled, the Sanspareil being rammed by two ships, and sinking with her colours flying and guns firing, and the other vessels being much damaged and losing heavily. The squadron, however, broke through the French Fleet, which followed it, maintaining a running action until I was able to interfere. The enemy was by that time in somewhat confused formation; and my division in its original order, but reinforced, passed through it with less loss than might have been expected, and then altered course sixteen points together and returned, executing the whole movement at full speed, and with a precision which I have never seen equalled. Unhappily in this second passage, the Howe became unmanageable, and was torpedoed, rammed, and sunk. I am proud to be able to report that, except the vessels which received damage to their machinery or steering gear, and which were thus obliged to quit the line, all my ships preserved their stations, and that, so far as the British Fleet was concerned, there was nothing in the shape of a chance melée. Having twice passed through the French, and perceiving that they were falling into disorder, I led the way through once more, so as to place them between my own ships and the second division. In this passage I had the misfortune to lose the Dreadnought, which, after joining from Gibraltar, had taken station in the line, and which was blown up by the concentration of the depressed heavy gun fire of three French ships upon her low deck. After the third passage the enemy ceased to manœuvre as a fleet, but his single ships fought with great determination. As soon as I observed the approach of the second division I made the signal, ‘Ships will engage the enemy independently,’ and also that for close action. The latter, however, I presently annulled, it rapidly becoming clear that for a vessel to obey it was to unnecessarily expose herself to the French torpedoes. I made instead a signal ordering the ships of the first division to keep to westward of the enemy, and to engage as much as possible beyond torpedo range. It was now 1.45 a.m., and the second division had opened fire. I had ceased to have any doubts as to the general results of the action, but I was scarcely prepared for the effect which the arrival of the fresh ships had upon our opponents. The French had lost terribly, and were thoroughly disorganised; and when they found themselves placed between two fires, and with retreat cut off in both directions by forces of the exact strength of which they were no doubt ignorant, they evidently lost heart. So bright was the moonlight that we could distinctly see some of them strike their flags. Upon this, using the electric semaphore, I directed the Vice-Admiral in command of the second division to send his torpedo gun-vessels into the French Fleet. With admirable alacrity these little craft obeyed the order. The French, whose cruisers and torpedo boats were nearly all to the eastward of us, and were easily kept at a distance by the fire of our quick-firing guns, made some considerable resistance, and, I am sorry to say, sank two of our gun-vessels. But when three of their number had been torpedoed, the rest, to my great relief, surrendered, and were before three o’clock taken possession of by the ironclads of the second division. The cruisers of the combined Fleet were meanwhile dispatched in general chase of the cruisers of the enemy, and as I write are beginning to return. So far as I can at present ascertain, they have destroyed four and captured two of the cruisers which were attached to the French Fleet, but several reports have yet to come in. Concerning the losses on both sides in armoured ships I can inform you more exactly. We went into action with, in all, twenty-four vessels, including the Mary Rose, of this class. Of these, four are sunk or blown up, two have had to be run ashore to save them from sinking, and seven are so badly damaged as to be totally unfit for future service for some time to come. The enemy went into action with twenty-five armoured ships, and of this number she has not preserved one. Fourteen have been sunk or blown up; three are ashore; and eight, all more or less damaged, are now at anchor here under my orders. As to the losses in officers and men, they are, I am pained to inform you, exceedingly serious. My own flagship has over 400 killed and wounded; and many other ships, especially those of the first division and of the Malta squadron, have suffered heavily in proportion. The names of the ships lost and captured are set forth in the margin, and in an enclosure are such detailed statements as have yet reached me of the loss in officers and men.

“I HAD THE MISFORTUNE TO LOSE THE ‘DREADNOUGHT.’”

“All ranks behaved in a manner which merits my warmest approbation, and which is worthy of the finest traditions of our country and of the service. In a future dispatch I hope to render to individuals that particular meed of praise which as yet I lack the necessary materials for fairly apportioning. Of Mr. Bowling of the Mary Rose, whose situation both before and during the action has been an exceptional one, I cannot delay speaking. To do so would, I am convinced, be to hurt the feelings of every officer and man under my command. On the 14th ult. he, being at the time entrusted with duplicate dispatches to the Admiral-Superintendent at Malta, ran through the French Fleet into the Mediterranean, sinking the cruiser Davout, and badly damaging the ironclad Terrible and the cruiser Tage. In this gallant exploit he was badly wounded. On the following day, pursued by the cruisers Cécille, Alger, and Troude, he took the first, which is now H.M.S. Rose, sank the second, and only permitted the third to escape because she had taken on board the survivors of the second. He was again injured. In the action of this morning he behaved with a courage and coolness to which I cannot do justice, passing four times through the French Fleet, handling his ship in the most magnificent manner, and, I regret to have to add, being once more severely wounded. It will be within your recollection that a month ago the name of Mr. Bowling was removed from the list of Her Majesty’s Navy. I venture respectfully to represent that the Royal Navy would be greatly honoured by having it restored, though in what rank I do not venture to suggest. I merely, with all the urgency which I can attach to my words, beg that the magnificent services of Mr. Bowling and of his officers—nearly all of whom are retired from the Royal Navy—may be recognised in a manner that will partially repay the country’s great indebtedness to him and to them. In thus specially mentioning Mr. Bowling, who, on account of his wounds, goes home in the Surprise—his own ship being on shore badly damaged—I am acting not only in accordance with my own promptings, but also in accordance with the wishes of, I believe, every officer and man in the Fleet which to-day has had the happiness to gain for Her Majesty a complete and conclusive victory.”