H.M.S. Surprise left Gibraltar at noon on the day of the victory of the “Glorious First of June,” and, steaming at 14 knots in very favourable weather, dropped anchor in Plymouth Sound at about breakfast time on the 5th.

On the passage, Bowling, who in the height of the action had received a ball from a Hotchkiss revolving gun that had shattered the bone of his left arm just above the elbow, was obliged to have the arm amputated; but the operation was perfectly successful, and his other wounds, which, though numerous, were slight, rapidly mended. The ship was little better than a floating ambulance full of wounded officers, and, upon her arrival, she immediately discharged all of them to the Royal Hospital. Bowling, however, not being a naval officer, was provisionally retained on board as a guest of the captain, whose cabin he shared. The captain himself went at once by special train to London with his dispatches, leaving his wounded guest in charge of the first lieutenant and the surgeon.

Bowling was doubly a hero at Plymouth. He had already brought thither two very valuable prizes, the Duguay Trouin and the Normandie, and the fame of his exploits in the Mediterranean was rapidly disseminated throughout the Three Towns as soon as communications were opened between the ship and the shore. Though unable to sit up, he sent to Plymouth for a short-hand writer, to whom he dictated, for transmission to The Times, a full but modest account of his cruise. He was interrupted more than once, while engaged upon this duty, by visitors who came off to see him and to offer their congratulations; but he succeeded in finishing it before evening, and in getting it telegraphed to London in plenty of time for Saturday morning’s paper. On that day Sir Taffrail and Miss Stormer arrived, the latter, upon receipt of the news of Bowling’s return wounded, having obliged her father—who indeed did not need much persuasion—to take her where, even if she could not attend upon her lover, she could at least be near him. The Admiral alone came on board in the afternoon, and was suffered to see the invalid. But the old sailor was so violent in his congratulations, and betrayed such anxiety to talk, that he had to be forcibly removed in the interests of the patient. Using extremely uncomplimentary language to the surgeon who personally executed the unpleasant office, he was handed down to his boat, but in the evening he returned.

The surgeon, having heard his voice, met him on the quarter-deck. “You really must not go below, Sir Taffrail,” said that officer; “I have Captain Brace’s strict directions to prevent Mr. Bowling from being unduly excited by visitors, and he is now exceedingly fatigued.”

“And who the devil is Captain Brace, sir?” demanded the Admiral, with an angry stamp on the deck.

“Captain Brace is the captain of this ship, Sir Taffrail, and permit me to beg of you not to stamp in that manner.”

“Pish! nonsense!” returned the fiery Admiral. “I know better, sir. I know who is captain of this ship, sir, and I do not require to be instructed by you, sir.”

At this crisis the first lieutenant came up. “What Dr. Blister says is perfectly true, Sir Taffrail; and I am really afraid that our conversation here will be very agitating to Mr. Bowling.”

“I am going to see him, damme,” asserted the Admiral, with another stamp, “and if anyone tries to prevent me, gentlemen, by Gad, I’ll—I’ll—yes, gentlemen, damme, I will.” And he walked aft to the cabin.

Bowling looked up wearily.

“I’ve come off,” said the Admiral, “to tell you about your friend Brace. They have promoted him. Wait, I’ll read you the telegram, my boy.”

He leisurely put on his spectacles, pulled two or three pink papers from his pocket, and from one of them read: “‘Admiralty, June 6.—The following promotion has been made. Commander Ernest William Brace, who yesterday arrived at Plymouth with dispatches from the Commander-in-Chief of the Fleet now at Gibraltar, to be Captain in her Majesty’s Fleet.’”

“I’m very glad to hear it,” said Bowling; “but of course it is only what one expected.”

“What one expected! No, it isn’t what one expected. I didn’t expect, and I don’t care. Is there anything else that you expect, eh?”

“They’ll promote all the commanders and first lieutenants, I hope.”

“Bowling, my boy, you’re a fool. Listen to this.” And selecting another pink paper, he read: “‘Admiralty, June 6.—Her Majesty has been pleased to restore Mr. Thomas Bowling, late a Lieutenant in Her Majesty’s Fleet, to his former rank and seniority as a Lieutenant.’”

Bowling’s white face flushed with pleasure. “Thank you, Sir Taffrail,” he said; “that is good news, indeed.”

“Well, I don’t think so,” said the Admiral. “No, damme, I don’t think so at all. But look here: there’s Mary Rose alongside, and if you’d like to see her, by Gad, no one shall prevent my bringing her in. You have only to say the word, boy.”

“How good of her to come. Why did you not bring her in? Please ring the bell, Sir Taffrail.”

“No, I’ll fetch her; there are sharks about. The beggars dared to try and stop me—to stop me!” and going out on deck, he presently returned leading his daughter, who was very pale and agitated, by the hand.

“Oh, Tom,” she said, coming softly to him and seizing the hand which he held out to her and kissing it, “do forgive me, I couldn’t keep away. I am so proud, Tom, and so happy. And oh, Tom, I do hope and pray that you are going on well, and won’t be made worse by the good news.”

“I haven’t told him any good news,” blurted out the Admiral; “I’ve only told him that he is a lieutenant again, and about Brace.”

“May I tell him, then, papa?” asked Mary.

“As if you could help telling him!” retorted the Admiral. “Yes, read the telegram.”

Mary sat down, took the paper which her father gave her, and in a voice that was unsteady with happiness and emotion, read: “‘Admiralty, June 6th.—The following promotions have been made: Lieutenant Thomas Bowling to be Commander in Her Majesty’s Fleet. To date May 14th.’”

“Thank God!” ejaculated Bowling, whose colour came and went with every breath. “That’s what I hoped.”

“Hush!” continued Mary; “I haven’t done. Listen. ‘Commander Thomas Bowling to be Captain in Her Majesty’s Fleet. To date June 1st.’”

“That’s more than I dared to hope,” said the invalid, almost inaudibly. “I’m afraid, dear, I really can’t ... I can’t ... bear....”

He had fainted. Doctor Blister, who had been jealously watching at the door, entered quite angrily, and bustled out both visitors without much ceremony. Outside on the quarter-deck Mary sobbed and the Admiral swore: but Blister would not relent, and the visitors were handed down to their boat and obliged to pull off. Ere they did so, however, Mary squeezed a crumpled piece of paper into Blister’s hand, and said, “I haven’t told him all. Please tell him for me. He’s to be a baronet, too. And when may I come again? You’ll find it all in the telegram. And do, please, take care of him.”

Bowling’s condition was not immediately improved by the excitement of that evening, and next day he was very feverish; but Blister had learnt by experience, and he permitted no further visits to be paid to his patient—until the latter was fully able to receive them. Mary, therefore, had to content herself with sending off twice daily to know how Bowling was getting on, and with supplying her gallant lover with more delicacies in the shape of jellies and fruits than could have been consumed by five post-captains in the enjoyment of the soundest health and the largest appetite. In a week Bowling was allowed to be moved to the shore, where Sir Taffrail had taken suitable rooms and engaged an excellent nurse. Three weeks later he was able to walk about, and before the end of July, The Times of one fine morning contained the announcement:

“Yesterday, at Plymouth, Captain Sir Thomas Bowling, Bart., R.N., the gallant capturer of the Duguay Trouin and Cécille, etc., was married to Mary Rose, only daughter of Admiral Sir Taffrail Stormer, G.C.B. The wedding, which was celebrated in the Dockyard church, was a naval one, and was attended by nearly every officer from the ships in port, and by many officers of the garrison. The bride was given away by her father; and Captain Maintruck, R.N., C.B., who, it will be remembered, was first lieutenant of the Mary Rose, and who, for his services in her under Sir Thomas Bowling, was promoted to be Commander, acted as the bridegroom’s best man. The presents, which were exceedingly numerous and valuable, included a silver gilt centre-piece from Her Majesty, a silver gilt bowl from the Commander-in-Chief at Devonport, a silver dessert service from the officers who were engaged in the Battle of Gibraltar, and a sword from the officers lately serving in the privateer Mary Rose. Late in the afternoon Sir Thomas and Lady Bowling left Plymouth on board Sir Taffrail Stormer’s steam yacht Beelzebub for the Mediterranean, where, we understand, they will be, for a time, guests of the Admiral-Superintendent at Malta, Sir Thomas having been recommended to seek, for a short period, a warm climate. We are glad, however, to be able to say that the gallant baronet appeared to be in the best of health, and seemed to be in little need of such a change.”

The same day’s paper contained an account of the final signature of a treaty of peace between Great Britain and the French Republic. May that peace, so glorious to this country and yet so honourable to its defeated foe, never again be broken! And if, unhappily, it be broken again, may Britain be readier than she was at the beginning of the bloody two months’ war to hold her own in every sea.

THE END.

MORRISON AND GIBB, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.