What, then, had happened off Toulon?

The Times of Wednesday morning was the first newspaper to give anything like a full account of the affair. This it did in the following painful telegram:—

“San Remo, Tuesday Night.—I have just been landed here, thanks to the courtesy of the commander of the Italian dispatch vessel Agostino Barberigo, and, with much grief, I telegraph to inform you of the sudden and terrible disaster which early this morning overtook the Mediterranean Fleet. That Fleet, as your readers will see on referring to any of the service papers of last week, consisted of the battleships Camperdown, Nile, Collingwood, Colossus, Dreadnought, Edinburgh, Benbow, Inflexible, Sanspareil, Trafalgar—flag of the Rear-Admiral—and Victoria—flag of the Commander-in-Chief. On Sunday afternoon these vessels, together with the belted cruisers Australia and Undaunted, the armoured ram Polyphemus, and the unarmoured craft Fearless, Scout, and Surprise, anchored off Toulon, and found the French Mediterranean Fleet lying there also. This squadron, which had come in earlier in the day after a cruise, consisted of the battleships Amiral Baudin, Courbet, Dévastation, Formidable, Duguesclin, Hoche, Marceau, Vauban, Caïman, Bayard, Neptune, and Indomptable, with the cruisers Cosmao, Troude, and Lalande, the torpedo dispatch vessels Vautour, and Condor, and the torpedo gunboats Dragonne, Dague, Aventurier, Kabyle, Audacieux, Ouragan, and Téméraire. Up the harbour, in addition, lay the battleships Trident, Colbert, Terrible, Redoutable, and five other ironclads, all belonging to the ‘Escadre de Reserve,’ which has been newly constituted. There were also up harbour several cruisers and torpedo vessels.

“We exchanged salutes in the usual way; the Admirals called on one another; and yesterday after dinner about four hundred of our bluejackets were allowed to go ashore. I was, at the time, on board the Benbow, and can give, therefore, only a hearsay account of what occurred in the town.

“It appears that at about four o’clock in the afternoon some of our men, who were drinking in a wine-shop, got into an altercation over the merits of the two navies with several French seamen belonging to the Colbert. The Frenchmen boasted that their ships were in every way superior to ours; Jack strongly objected; from words the disputants went to blows; and, in less time than it takes to write it, our fellows were retreating down the street, pursued by a mixed crowd of French soldiers, sailors, and civilians. Reports vary as to the damage done, but it is, unfortunately, certain that at least a dozen of our men lost their lives, and that the French loss was nearly as severe.

“We, of course, lay too far out to be able to hear or see anything of the hubbub on shore. The first hint of what occurred came to us from the ship’s chaplain, who, returning on board in a shore boat, reported that a row was going on in the town. I went up into the top, whence through the glass I could see our men crowding into other shore boats and pushing off in great haste. There was much struggling, and I saw occasional puffs of smoke, which, I knew, could not proceed from our fellows, all of whom were, of course, unarmed. Being closely followed by boats full of Frenchmen, our men made for the Surprise, which lay closer in than the rest of the squadron. By this time the pursuers were using firearms freely, and we realised that the business was a very serious one. We were therefore ordered to man and arm boats and to cover the retreat. Our fellows pulled like demons, and, with oars and boat-hooks, fairly sunk one craft which came too close. Those of us who remained on board were all on the bridge or in the top; but just as we were wondering whether we should not have to open fire with our machine guns, we were disappointed by the Commander-in-Chief semaphoring from the flagship that, bearing in mind the evident gravity of the situation, nothing must be done that might complicate matters. This order did not, however, prevent our captain from directing the magazines to be opened, and all preparations to be made that could be made without too pronouncedly attracting the attention of the French. Meanwhile our boats had gained the Surprise, and the men were scrambling on board as fast as they could. A regular swarm of French boats of all kinds was crowding round the ship, and the people in them were screaming and gesticulating as if they were madmen. The Commander-in-Chief went in his steam launch to the Surprise. Through our glasses we watched his crew shoving the French boats aside, and I doubt whether the shore people would have made room for the launch to get alongside the dispatch vessel if a French officer had not opportunely arrived on the spot in a torpedo boat from up the harbour. When he appeared the French retired to a respectful distance, but continued vociferating so loudly that we could quite plainly hear them. The French officer followed our Admiral on board the Surprise, and there had an interview with him. Not long afterwards they were joined by a stout gold-laced, red-sashed dignitary from the shore; and the two Frenchmen between them made out, or tried to make out, that our bluejackets had begun the row, had deliberately murdered some men in the wine-shop, and, in fine, that they only were to blame. Our Admiral, of course, promised to institute the fullest inquiry; but the French officers took a high-handed attitude from the first. They demanded that all our men who had been ashore should be surrendered. Compliance with this was out of the question. They then said that they had telegraphed to Paris for instructions. Before the Commander-in-Chief got back to the flagship, we saw that most of the French ships in harbour were getting up steam.

“At a quarter to six all our captains were ordered on board the Admiral. When our captain returned, he looked very serious, and sent first for the commander, and then for the Fleet Engineer and all the lieutenants, most of whom remained with him in his cabin for three quarters of an hour. The French Admiral had promised to dine in the evening on board our flagship, but he sent a somewhat awkward excuse. If I may judge from what I saw in the wardroom in the Benbow, where I was a guest, the business spoilt the dinners of every one in both Fleets, for all our people had no end of work to do. We made as many preparations for action as we could without actually going to quarters: we got up steam for full speed; we kept unusually strict watch, and allowed no boats to approach us; and most of us unshipped all the pictures and breakables that we had in our cabins.

“At seven, the Surprise, by order, shifted her berth, and took up a fresh position outside our lines—we were anchored in two columns. The Scout and Polyphemus, under easy steam, went round the Fleet and swept their search-lights shoreward continually. To guard against sudden attack by torpedo boats, certain craft were ordered to use their search-lights in combination in such a manner as to form a complete path of brightness round the Fleet. The effect was very striking, but it was also very puzzling, for the illumination not only intensified the surrounding darkness, but also rendered it extremely difficult for us to again ‘pick up’ any craft—and there were several about—after it had once crossed the protected zone; and when half-an-hour’s experience had thoroughly demonstrated this, the experiment was ordered to be discontinued. The eyes of many of us had not, however, recovered from the dazzling results of the trial when, some hours later, we needed our best night sight; and I doubt whether we should not have been wiser had we relied solely throughout upon such natural light as was vouchsafed to us. At a quarter to nine a French steam launch went on board the Commander-in-Chief, and half-an-hour later we all knew what it had come out for. It brought a formal demand for the surrender by nine o’clock this morning of every officer and man who had been ashore during the day, and an imperious order that in the meantime no British vessel was to leave the roadstead.

“As soon as the French launch had shoved off again, the Commander-in-Chief signalled the Fleet to weigh. Almost at the same moment the Scout reported that a number of French ships were coming out. They soon began to play their search-lights freely on us, but we went on weighing as before, until one of their flagships, a great ironclad as big as the Trafalgar, but much higher out of the water, was abreast of the Victoria. It seems that the Frenchman hailed the Commander-in-Chief, and with great politeness demanded whether he intended to go to sea. Our lights showed us that all the French ships were cleared for action, and were full of men. I suppose that our Admiral said ‘Yes,’ and we half expected from the threatening attitude of the enemy that fire would be opened at once. But the French Fleet passed on, and went quietly out in single line ahead, the battleships being between us and their own light craft, which, naturally, kept off, and seemed to be in no regular formation. They were all a mass of lights, and we could plainly see the officers in full dress standing on the bridges and poops, and saluting us as they passed, some of them at a distance of less than a couple of cables from us. As far as I could count, there were sixteen battleships, eight or nine cruisers, and over a dozen torpedo boats.⁠[1] When they had got well outside of us, they suddenly extinguished all their lights, as if by preconcerted agreement, and ten minutes later another launch from the shore went on board the Commander-in-Chief. One of our lieutenants was in the flagship at the time for orders, and he told us on his return that the French had sent to say that any further attempt on our part to get away that night would, without hesitation, be prevented by force. Of course we were at once sent to quarters—we had really been at them all the evening, in the Benbow, at least. It was realised that, right or wrong, it was impossible, in the circumstances, to obey the dictation of any foreigner. At ten minutes past ten we got under way, and formed in two columns of divisions line ahead, the Victoria, Camperdown, Edinburgh, Collingwood, Sanspareil, and Inflexible constituting the starboard division in the order named, and the Trafalgar, Nile, Benbow, Colossus, and Dreadnought the port. The Polyphemus was a mile and a half ahead, the Undaunted an equal distance on the starboard bow, the Australia an equal distance on the port bow, the Scout on the starboard and the Fearless on the port quarter, and the Surprise a mile and a half astern. A rendezvous, which, for obvious reasons, I suppress, was given us, and the course, so soon as we had made an offing, was south-west. Although a guest on board, I, of course, volunteered to be of what use I could.

“It was an intensely dark night, and there was a nasty sea from the south-east, but very little wind; half a gale, which had been blowing during the afternoon, having dropped at sundown.

“It is not my business—and, indeed, I am still far too fagged and knocked up—to tell you much about our individual feelings and actions. I believe that we were all determined to do our duty, and I venture to think that, in what followed, most of us did it, although, for once, the luck was against us. You at home must remember, ere you judge us, that we were outnumbered, that several of our heaviest guns were very defective even before the action began, that the speeds of our ships were very unequal, and that, upon the whole, the French vessels were better protected at the water-line than ours. I am bound to mention these facts in justice to the hundreds of brave fellows who are gone. It was not their fault that guns broke down, or that the Fleets were un-equally matched. With anything like equal forces, the results of this, the bloodiest naval fight that the world has yet seen, would, I am confident, have been different. Surely the blame lies, not with those who had to use the weapons, but rather with those who forged them too weak and too few for the work required of them.

“For three hours we steamed at about ten knots, the slowness of the older turret ships preventing our easily doing much more, save under great pressure. We saw nothing of the French, and, as we showed no lights, we had much difficulty in keeping station.

“At half-past one this morning, the Polyphemus flashed a signal to the effect that she had sighted the French Fleet about two miles ahead of her, apparently lying to. We therefore altered course six points to the eastward, so as to head south-south-east, and, if possible, avoid the enemy; but I suspect the French must have seen the flashes by which the order was signalled, for half-an-hour later, the Scout reported them a mile on her starboard quarter, steaming fast, and apparently coming up with us. We then put on full steam to the utmost capacity of our slowest ships, and again altered course two points to the eastward, so as to bring our heads due south-east; but the Fleet, as a whole, could not, it was soon found, do more than 10½ knots against the sea which was running, the Inflexible doing barely that, and lagging behind in the most dangerous way. The Frenchmen, therefore, steadily drew up with us, having altered course soon after we did, and being able to steam fully 11½ knots, and perhaps more.

“It must have been inexpressibly galling to our gallant Commander-in-Chief thus to be obliged to show his heels even to an enemy of obviously superior force. But it is clear that he could not have remained at Toulon, where he could have accomplished nothing against the forts and batteries; and would, moreover, have been exposed to destruction from mines, submarine boats, and torpedoes worked from the shore, besides having to reckon with the French Fleet. It is clear, too, I think, that in the circumstances it was his duty, if possible, to avoid action; though on this point, there will probably be great differences of opinion. When once the French were outside of him, he had to think of Malta and Gibraltar, his immediate bases. I must, however, leave these questions for others to discuss.

“At this time I was sent for by the captain, who was on the bridge intently watching the Nile, whose huge hull ploughed through the water two cables ahead of us, leaving in her wake a broad strip of foam on the broken waves. The Benbow’s bows plunged ever and anon into the seas, which dashed aft against the barbette, well-nigh hid the muzzle of the great gun as they burst, and deluged us with spray. We must have had hundreds of tons of water at a time upon the forecastle, but the ship rising, shook them off with scarcely an effort, and then plunged again, as the rolling seas lifted her by the stern.

“We had no torpedo boats with us, and, had we had any, they would have been only so many encumbrances in such a sea as was running. Even our biggest boats—the 135 ft. ones—do not steam well in circumstances like those which environed us early this morning; and, unfortunately, we had nothing between them and the regular torpedo cruisers, Scout and Fearless, vessels of 1580 tons displacement. Very useful indeed to the Commander-in-Chief would have been a few fast gun-vessels of the Grasshopper or Sharpshooter class, not so big as to be easily visible, yet big enough to stand the knocking about and still preserve a decent speed of 15 or 16 knots. Alas! we had nothing of the kind, the Landrail and Sandfly being detached. The French, on the other hand, were well provided in this respect. They had with them several large torpedo boats, or avisos-torpilleurs, of the Bombe class, which served them in particularly good stead as scouts, and which, being craft of over 300 tons displacement, could breast the sea. With these, as we speedily found, they were able to creep up and observe us, without being sighted until they were close upon us. We, therefore, had an uneasy feeling that we were all the time being watched by spies which remained almost invisible.

“Finding, at last, that it was hopeless to think of getting rid of the foe by out-steaming him, the Admiral—the French being now reported broad-on the Inflexible’s starboard quarter, at a distance of between two and three miles—decided to attack. He, therefore, in accordance with a previously concerted arrangement, led his division ahead of the other one, so placing himself in the van of a long single column disposed in line ahead; and having completed this change of formation, ordered the battleships to alter course in succession ten points to starboard, and the cruisers to obey previous instructions, which seem to have run to the effect that they were to be as useful as possible, and to be ready to tow the ironclads, but not to needlessly imperil themselves.

“It looked at first as if we were going to engage the enemy in the old-fashioned manner, for the French were steaming in a direction nearly at right angles with our line, and in single column; but they very speedily altered formation, so as to bring themselves into a line abreast in groups of three. In this formation the two fleets neared one another, the Trafalgar leading, the Nile coming next, and after us in succession coming the Benbow, Colossus, Dreadnought, Victoria, Agamemnon, Edinburgh, Collingwood, Sanspareil, and Inflexible.

“It was about half-past two o’clock. Suddenly a ship near the centre of the French line began to use her search-lights on us, and fired a blank charge. Immediately all the other vessels did the same, and we soon followed suit, not, however, firing. Both sides seemed to feel that to engage in darkness would be doubly dangerous; but, in truth, the electric lights served only to render the situation more puzzling. The effect of the light when it shines into the eyes of the spectator is confusing in the extreme. It is absolutely impossible to decide, or even to guess, how far off the projector, whence the beam comes, is; and when the glare permits of surrounding objects being seen at all, it seems generally to show them distorted or misplaced. Moreover, in certain conditions of atmosphere, dependent, no doubt, upon the amount of moisture in the air, the beam, instead of being translucent, has the effect of a dazzling and semi-opaque white screen. Upon it, in these circumstances, shadows can even be cast, and phenomena resembling the mirage or the ‘Brocken spectre’ may be produced. I remember hearing Sir Nowell Salmon, years ago, tell how once in his steam launch he actually went in chase of one of these apparitions, and how he only discovered that he was pursuing his own shadow when he had occasion to shake his fist at the artificer in charge for not getting more speed out of the boat. I mention this solely because I am sure that more harm than good is, as a general rule, likely to be done during night actions by the use of the search-light.

A moment later the French opened a perfectly awful fire on us, apparently from every gun that would bear. It seemed as if the whole horizon had become a mass of ragged smoke and belching flame. Only a very few of our men happened to be on deck, but nearly all these were killed or wounded. The captain himself, who was still on the bridge, was wounded in the right leg, but he refused to go below. We got him into the conning tower, however, without further injury, and I remained at his side until the end, the enemy’s fire continuing, without intermission, from the moment when it first began until the action was over.

“The wind being so light as to scarcely stir the air, and that little coming now from the north-west, such smoke as did not hang rolled gently down the French line, and shrouded from us the greater part of it. Almost ahead of us was a group of ships, which I took to be the Formidable, Hoche, and Marceau. As the Admiral neared them he swerved to port and went straight for the Formidable, while we swerved to starboard and headed for what I believe was the Marceau. The Nile went for the remaining one. We thus put ourselves to windward of the flagship, and the smoke of her guns, as she opened fire, hid her from us. But I could see our immediate opponent quite plainly, a great towering single-funnelled three-masted ironclad, with a central battery, lofty sponsons, and a high forecastle. At less than a cable’s distance we got one shell from our fore barbette gun fairly into her starboard bow, where it burst, wrecking all the fore part of her. At almost the same instant, however, something struck our conning tower and caused nearly everything in it to fly, so depriving us of our communication with the people at the guns, except by means of the voice tubes which still held, but which were, in the din, nearly useless. There were only the captain, the staff-commander, myself, and two signalmen in the confined little box, from which, of course, no one could be spared, and which, for the moment, was practically cut off from the rest of the ship. The 6-inch guns in our starboard battery fired once; but in vain did we shout down the voice tubes for them to continue, although we were now almost brushing the paint off the Frenchman’s side as she just managed to escape our ram, and although we might, had we given her a broadside from our guns well depressed, have blown her bottom out. In the meantime she was treating us terribly; and it was not until we had passed through the enemy and well beyond him that it was possible for us to send a man below to convey orders and to report upon what had happened.

“The news that came up soon afterwards was even worse than I had feared to learn. The whole starboard side of the box battery was beaten in, two of the guns in it were dismounted, and every man in the battery had been killed or wounded. Part of the hydraulic loading apparatus of the gun in the fore barbette had broken down, and the gun was useless; the funnels were so knocked to pieces as to seriously reduce our steaming power, two 5½ inch projectiles had hit us and pierced us below the water-line, and two of our compartments were flooded. There were many other damages, the details of which were not reported, and there was no time, of course, for full inquiry.

“The captain, in spite of his injuries, was still able to retain command, and he had, after clearing the French line, brought the ship round sixteen points to port, in order to renew the action with the Marceau; or, in case we could not discover her, to engage some other ship. But scarcely had we turned ere we were attacked by two of the avisos-torpilleurs, to which I have already alluded, as well as by several torpedo boats of a smaller type. Ahead of us the battle was raging, and the night was lurid with flash and explosion; but abreast and astern of us all was darkness, and out of this darkness our little foes dashed upon us suddenly from all directions. At the first onset, as I have explained, our men had been driven from the quick-firing and machine guns on the upper deck by the enemy’s terrible fire. Many of these guns had been dismounted or injured, and the torpedo boats came on while those guns which had escaped were being again manned. For a few seconds, in consequence, we had nothing with which to meet the attack, and, in the meantime, the enemy was blazing away at us from his 3-pounders and machine guns. We tried to use our search-lights once more, but we could not get them to work, probably because the cables had been destroyed. We did, however, succeed in opening fire to a limited extent before the enemy got very close, and, I believe, we sunk one of the small boats. But, although the men behaved splendidly, and worked at the guns with admirable steadiness, the game was up. A torpedo hit us on the port bow, just under the forward sponson; and, in an instant, or, rather, as soon as we realised what had happened, we knew that the dear old Benbow was done for. The shock was tremendous, and threw us all down, for the ship’s bows rose violently into the air, and trembled as if they had been wrenched and twisted by some angry giant. But, bruised and bloody as we were, we were soon up again. The entrance to the conning tower was half blocked with the débris of boats and booms, yet the captain, in spite of his wound, managed to struggle out on deck, and I followed. Several boats were by this time almost alongside, and, as we appeared, a French lieutenant in one of them cooly removed his hat, and made a motion as if to ask whether we surrendered. The captain fired his revolver at the gallant fellow, and, even as he did so, fell back, shot through the chest by a bullet from a machine gun. ‘Don’t haul it down while we float,’ he cried, as he lay writhing in his last brief agony: ‘remember what they will say at home.’

“We did not haul it down. We drove the boats off, and gave them a weak cheer as they went, but the ship was by that time settling rapidly down by the head, with a frightful heel to port. The boats were ordered to be got out. They were, however, all knocked to pieces. We did our best also to steam back into the still battling fleets, feeling that no fate could be much worse than the one which immediately threatened us; but the water had got into the stokeholes, owing, I suspect, to some of the bulkheads having given way under the pressure, and we could not move. Just when everything seemed most hopeless, I saw what looked like a small cruiser rapidly making for us, with all her lights showing. But she came too late for most of us. While she was still a full mile away the Benbow’s stern rose high out of the water, so high as to send everything and everybody on deck adrift, and then, with a great gurgle, the ship dived down bows first.

“I have no further recollection that helps me to explain how, when the day was beginning to dawn, I found myself clinging to a splintered grating, alone upon the sea. I was dizzy and chill, and sore from head to foot, and I was almost naked, but I clung on mechanically. Indeed, my arms were so stiff that it seemed that I could scarcely have unclasped them, even if I had wished to do so. As the sun rose I caught sight of a vessel under steam, less than half a mile from me; and, although I was able to make no effort to attract attention, I was, in another quarter of an hour, so fortunate as to be picked up by a boat which was sent for me by the commander of the Agostino Barberigo, and to be taken on board by the kindly Italians. They tell me that at first I could give no account of myself, and that I could neither speak nor stand, but they treated me so well that by midday I recovered.

“My first question was, naturally, about the Fleet. Terrible, even beyond my apprehension, is the fragmentary story which my rescuers told me. The Agostino Barberigo had been almost within gunshot during the action, which had lasted for less than an hour. After the battle, her commander had hailed the French ironclad Amiral Baudin, and had learned that, of our ten battleships, five—namely, the Benbow, Camperdown, Edinburgh, Inflexible, and Collingwood—had been either sunk or compelled to strike, and that of the remainder, two at least, although they had temporarily got away, were entirely disabled. One of these was understood to be the Victoria, in which, quite early in the engagement, there had, apparently, been some serious accident. The fate of the Polyphemus was unknown, but she had rammed or torpedoed and sunk the Trident. The Australia had got away, but the Undaunted, towards the end of the action, had made a gallant endeavour to ram the Vauban, and, although she had considerably damaged her, had been sunk, firing as she went down. The Surprise had got away, but was on fire when last seen. The Fearless, after colliding with one of our own vessels and having her bows stove in, had been taken. The Scout had rammed and sunk the cruiser Sfax, but had herself gone down, though I am glad to be able to add that most of her officers and crew are safe on board the cruiser Cécille. Finally, in addition to the Trident and Sfax, the French are said to have lost the Vautour cruiser and the Kabyle—torpilleur de haute mer—as well as two small torpedo boats.

“But the victory, which is an undoubted one, lies with them. Our Mediterranean Fleet, as such, exists no longer. Half of it has been destroyed or taken; the other half is disabled, and, in all probability, scattered. Never before, in all her history, has England experienced so complete a disaster upon the sea, and it can be but slight satisfaction to us to know that to purchase this grand success our enemies have spent an old second-class ironclad, a large but not very new cruiser, and three or four small craft, even when we know also that many of their other vessels must be severely damaged.

“When I was picked up I was nearly ten miles from the scene of the action; and, so far as I know, I am the only one of my ship’s company that has escaped, though one cannot but trust that others were picked up by the cruiser which was approaching us when we went down. The Agostino Barberigo had, however, on board about thirty bluejackets and a wounded sub-lieutenant, whom she saved when the Camperdown sank; and it is certain that in the French Fleet, the greater part of which put back to Toulon, there are many other survivors.

“I can add no more. As a British officer who, as a volunteer, has tried to do his duty, I cannot, nevertheless, avoid expressing the opinion that if we had had a proper Mediterranean Fleet—one equal or superior to that of the French, this grievous disaster would not have occurred. We allowed ourselves to be lulled to sleep by the peaceful aspect of affairs here; and the unforeseen storm has found us unprepared to cope with it. Such Fleet as we had was weak, not only numerically, but also in armour and armament; for enormous guns and partial belts have proved a failure. We have been pinning our faith too much to these partial water-line belts, and to guns of monstrous proportions. The only one of the Sanspareil’s big guns that was fired broke down; the other could not, for some reasons which I have not been able to discover, be fired at all. And I am informed, by a seaman who belongs to the Victoria, but who had been lent as a signalman to the Camperdown, that the accident already alluded to as having occurred in the Victoria was, in fact, the bursting of a 110-ton gun in her turret. If I can, ere I start for home, learn any further details of our unexampled misfortune, I will lose no time in telegraphing them. I am aware that this account leaves much to be desired. The awful circumstances in which it is written must be my excuse. The fact that I have, in a short hour, lost, as I cannot but believe, most of my shipmates and dearest friends, gives me personally such poignant pain that I can barely concentrate my thoughts; but even more am I overwhelmed by the consciousness of the irreparable loss in officers and material that has fallen upon the country. Would that half the gallant fellows who perished to-day were still at the call of England; for sorely will she need them.”

Thus the bolt fell from a clear sky, and, within a few hours, the two most powerful naval nations of the world found themselves engaged in deadly struggle.

Elsewhere in its issue of that Black Wednesday, the Times gave particulars (see Table, p. 64), derived from other sources, of the victorious French Fleet. It also mentioned, in a leading article, that the telegraphic dispatch above quoted had been sent to it by Lieutenant Thomas Bowling, R.N., an officer on half-pay, who had been present as a guest in the ill-fated Benbow. And in its later editions it contained a great deal of bad news from a spot far less distant than the Mediterranean. This news will be found in the next chapter.