A number of women and children followed the army, and their sufferings were truly terrible. Soldiers began to fall out, unable to keep up with the columns, and the rear-guard passed scores of poor wretches frozen to death in the snow, while at Bembibre, where there were large wine-vaults, discipline began to relax its hold, and shameful drunkenness stained the hitherto excellent record of the troops.

Meanwhile, Napoleon made the most strenuous efforts to overtake us.

He insisted on marching from Benevente to Astorga in one short winter day, a distance of thirty odd miles, under an icy rain, the infantry being obliged to strip five or six times and scramble through the streams, holding their clothing and ammunition above the water.

So exhausted was his army that three veteran grenadiers of the Old Guard blew out their brains, unable to go on, and knowing that the sullen peasants in their sheepskin capas would murder them if they lagged behind.

Napoleon was much affected, but he still pushed forward, and late at night, drenched to the skin, and attended only by Lannes, the staff, and a hundred Chasseurs, he dashed into Astorga. Had Paget, who was only six miles off, learned this, he might have swooped down with the Hussars and changed the future fate of Europe by capturing the Emperor himself. Napoleon had marched two hundred miles in ten days with 50,000 troops in the depth of winter, but for all his haste, we had eluded him and gained the mountains, and at Astorga the Emperor handed the reins to Soult, reviewed his legions, and returned to Valladolid, leaving the Marshal Duke of Dalmatia to drive us into the sea.

The features of the retreat now underwent a change: our columns began to ascend into a wild and dreary region, the road winding along the mountain sides halfway between the summits and the rushing water in the valleys below.

Here and there a solitary cottage showed its slate roof; at intervals the weary leagues were marked on stone pillars by the way; the droning hum of the axles of the bullock carts could be heard for a great distance, and slanting rain beat on the tired stragglers, whose numbers were by this time terribly increased.

Bembibre, when the Reserve entered it on New Year’s Day, was full of drunken soldiers from Baird’s divisions; officers and men grew careless, and thought only of themselves, and it was found necessary to flog and hang to restore some semblance of order, with an active enemy on our very heels.

The light troops had marched for Vigo, whither Sir John Moore intended to follow, but at Orense a message overtook them, bidding them send the transports round to Corunna, and Captain Heisse, after a hard gallop through the snow, was just in time to despatch the vessels before an unfavourable wind set dead into the harbour mouth.

At Calcabellos, while Lord Edward Paget was haranguing the Reserve on the subject of the growing insubordination, two plunderers were caught in the act. The troops were instantly formed in hollow square round a tree to witness their execution, when a hussar dashed in with news that the enemy were upon us.

“I don’t care if the entire French cavalry are here,” roared the general; “I’ll hang these scoundrels!”

They were lifted in the arms of the provost-marshal’s men, the ropes were adjusted, and in another moment they would have dangled in mid-air, when a second hussar came up, and carbine shots rang out from the 3rd Germans at the bridge.

“Soldiers,” cried Lord Edward, “if I pardon these men will you promise better behaviour for the future?”

“Yes,” was the unanimous reply.

“Say it again!”

“Yes, yes!” from a thousand throats.

“A third time!”

It was done with a cheer, the men were released, and the troops went off at the double towards the firing.

Colbert attacked us there with a large body of cavalry, and our Rifles, posted in a vineyard, emptied a score of saddles as the French dragoons and light horse tore up the road to the bridge-head. Colbert was not only a splendid soldier, but a good man, in an army where, unfortunately, virtue was at a low ebb, and two days before, at the review, Napoleon had said to him, “General, you have proved in Egypt, Italy, and Germany that you are one of my bravest warriors: you shall soon receive the reward due to your brilliant successes.”

“Make haste, sire,” replied Colbert, “for, while I am not yet thirty, I feel that I am already old.”

At Calcabellos, an Irishman of the 95th, named Tom Plunkett, ran out and threw himself on his back in the snow. Passing the sling of his rifle over his foot, he sighted and fired, and Colbert fell from his horse. Jumping up Plunkett cast about and reloaded, firing again and killing the aide-de-camp who had rushed to his general’s assistance, after which the lucky marksman rejoined his comrades in safety (only to be discharged some years afterwards, without promotion, a victim to drink, that curse of our Peninsular armies).

Wherever the danger was pressing, Sir John Moore was to be found—nothing could exceed his personal exertions on the retreat.

At Villa Franca, romantically situated in a deep valley, with the pointed turrets of a Dominican convent rising against a background of bare hills, and where the ferocious Duke of Alva once had a castle, the army committed great disorders, and Sir John had a man shot in the market-place as a warning to the others.

Although we checked the enemy wherever the rear-guard faced about, the march had not been resumed long when their horsemen were again riding among the stragglers, cutting them down without mercy—man, woman, and child!

The 28th, with its brown calfskin knapsacks, taken from the French stores in Egypt, toiled over the snow, and the handsomest man of the Grenadier company, named McGee, fell lame and dropped behind, his comrades carrying his pack and musket for him, but two French troopers came up, and, unarmed as he was, slashed him to pieces almost in sight of his company.

Misery and disorder increased; the cavalry were sent on ahead, with the exception of a part of the 3rd Hussars, and the rear-guard fought every yard of the way until they reached Lugo, where Sir John drew up in order of battle, and discipline was again restored.

All day, in the drenching rain, we waited for the French to attack, but Soult was too wary; and at night, leaving the fires burning, the army continued its retreat, gaining several hours’ start before the enemy became aware of it.

The pay-waggons, heavily laden with silver dollars, were abandoned, as the oxen were quite used up, and Lieutenant Bennet stood with a drawn pistol and orders to shoot any soldier who lingered there.

Hugo, of the 3rd Hussars, gave an equal proportion to each man of his detachment, and it was carried in their corn-sacks to Corunna and delivered to the Commissariat; but the rest—£25,000 worth—was pitched over into the valley, the barrels breaking on the rocks and sending a silver cascade far down beyond the reach of the marching army.

The stragglers crowded round and fought for the money spilled on the road, one woman—wife of Sergeant Maloney, of the 52nd—making her fortune for life; but, stepping from the boat on to a transport at Corunna, she slipped, and the weight of the stolen treasure took her to the bottom of the harbour, never to rise again!

While the miserable wretches were scrambling in the snow, the enemy came up and slaughtered without mercy, stopping in their turn to gather up the spoil, and giving us a little breathing-time.

Farther on we met some Spanish troops discharging their muskets briskly, as though skirmishing, and it was feared that the French had intercepted us, but on getting closer we were told that the contemptible riff-raff were “only firing to warm their hands!”

At Lugo Sir John Moore had issued an order in which he said: “It is evident that the enemy will not fight this army, notwithstanding the superiority of his numbers, but will endeavour to harass and tease it on its march.... The army has now eleven leagues to march; the soldiers must make an exertion to complete them. The rear-guard cannot stop, and those that fall behind must take their fate!”

Many of the troops were now barefooted, and all were more or less in rags. Far too many camp-followers had been allowed to accompany us, and all were starving in a wild and sterile country, where a yellow fowl was often the only result of a plundered cottage.

The 28th found nothing at Villa Franca but one piece of salt pork, which Major Browne tied to his holsters—to lose it in the night-march to Herrerias.

The same officer, on embarking, exchanged his horse for a pig, but in the confusion the major was shipped on board one transport and the pig on to another!

Small wonder that the “Slashers,” on finding some Spaniards frozen to death among the débris of two bread-waggons, moved the corpses to hunt ravenously for the crusts among which they were lying!

At length it was the custom to stop all stragglers and take from them a proportion of the food they carried, and by that means they collected sufficient to serve out a ration to every man of the rear-guard!

At Nogales—where the country reminds one of Glencoe—a private who had been sent on ahead found a quantity of potatoes, which he boiled, and as the 28th filed past the house he distributed three or four to officer and man alike, without distinction; and at the same place some officers of the “Slashers” went into a cottage where there was a fire, and where they stripped to dry their clothes.

A Spanish general was sleeping snugly in an inner room, well wrapped in furs, and his two aides-de-camp were standing by the fire.

One of the “Slashers” laid his valuable watch down, and, returning from the door, where he had been directing some stragglers, found that one of the aides-de-camp had walked off with it!

“I cannot be held responsible for all the people about me,” was the grumpy remark of the Spanish general. What could be expected from an army whose officers were thieves?

The last halt was made at Betanzos, and while the rear-guard covered the partial destruction of the bridge there, the army marched in column to Corunna, only to find the Atlantic roaring on the rocks, but not a sail in sight!

The French were in great force at Betanzos, and furious at our continued escape. One sergeant charged alone in advance of his squadron, to the centre of the bridge, but a private of the 28th, named Thomas Savage, stepped out and shot him, securing his cloak before the others came up.

The Engineers bungled the bridge, and blew up one of their officers with it, while we had to fall back on Corunna before it was properly destroyed.

Fine weather now dried our rags. On the 11th January the Guards were quartered in the town, the Reserve near St. Lucia, and the other regiments posted in strong positions. Vast stores were meanwhile destroyed in Corunna, and two hundred and ninety horses of the German Legion shot in the arsenal square at St. Lucia, amid the tears of the brave troopers.

The 12th proved damp and foggy, and no trace of the fleet could be seen. The French still held back, our officers exchanging pot-shots with them until Paget put a stop to it; and on the 13th a terrific explosion from 4,000 powder-barrels caused something very like a panic in both armies. Corunna was shaken, its windows smashed, and a rain of white ashes fell for a considerable time.

At last, on the afternoon of the 14th, the transports hove in sight, and as soon as they were anchored we began to embark the wounded and the guns, the cavalry being ordered to ship thirty horses per regiment and shoot the rest as there was not time to get them on board with a heavy sea running. The 15th Hussars brought four hundred to Corunna, and landed in England with thirty-one! The 10th—the Prince of Wales’s particular regiment, and the first in our service to wear the showy Hungarian dress, which its hussar troop had adopted in 1803 and the entire corps two years later—began the campaign with six hundred handsome chargers and took thirty home again.

The greatest confusion took place among the camp-followers, but by degrees the embarkation proceeded, our gallant tars going in some cases two days without food in their noble efforts to help us.

There was a little skirmishing, but no very decided movement, until the 16th—in fact, French officers were seen picking up shells on the sands at low water within range of our muskets—but at last the infantry alone remained on shore, and the 28th, among others, was ordered to fall in at two o’clock on the 16th to march down to the boats.

Scarcely had they mustered when, a violent cannonade being opened upon us, and a forward movement being observed, they went off at the double towards the enemy again. They had done eighty miles in the last twelve days, standing several nights under arms in the snow; they had repulsed the French seven times, and the 28th alone had lost more than two hundred men; yet, when the battle of Corunna began, the Reserve had fewer men missing than any other division!

Some of the generals wished Moore to come to terms with Soult, but nothing was farther from the brave Scotchman’s thoughts.

Circumstances had compelled us to retreat, but it was no part of a British soldier’s training to shirk a battle at the last moment; consequently, the low hills behind Elvina were soon echoing to the rattle of musketry as our black-gaitered infantry opened fire on the French columns.

There was little or no manœuvring during the engagement: Soult advanced in three masses, driving our pickets out of the village of Elvina.

Baird, of Seringapatam fame, held the right of our line, Sir John Hope formed the centre and left with his division, while Paget and Fraser were in reserve before Corunna: 14,500 men in all, facing 20,000.

Sir John Moore sent the 50th and 42nd to retake Elvina, which was rendered formidable by sunken lanes and stone walls, but after a brave scrimmage which lasted half an hour, the French were driven out and the Guards advanced to take up the position originally occupied by the two regiments.

The Black Watch having exhausted their cartridges fell back, thinking the Guards were marching to support them, and the enemy returned in force and entered the village again.

Sir John rode up to the 42nd, and learning that their ammunition was expended, said, “You have still your bayonets, my brave Highlanders—remember Egypt!” and with a yell the Black Watch rushed forward once more.

While Sir John Moore was watching the struggle, a round shot struck him on the left breast and dashed him out of the saddle; but without a groan, he sat up, resting on his arm and for a moment gazed intently at the Highlanders driving the French steadily back.

Then, as a happy look came into his handsome face, the staff crowded round him and saw the shocking state of his wound. The shoulder was completely shattered, and the left arm hung by a piece of skin; the ribs over the heart were broken and bared of flesh, while the muscles of the breast were torn into shreds and strips, among which the hilt of his sword had got entangled.

“I had rather it should go out of the field with me,” said the dying hero, as Hardinge made an attempt to disengage it.

Men of the 42nd and Guards carried him tenderly in a blanket, taking an hour to reach Corunna, the general frequently making them halt and turn him round.

Like Wolfe at Quebec, his anxiety was for the success of the army, and like Wolfe his last moments were cheered by the knowledge that we had beaten the French.

Soult had fallen back, General Baird was badly wounded, and Hope carried out Sir John’s original plans for the embarkation.

“I hope the people of England will be satisfied,” said the dying man. “I hope my dear country will do me justice. Oh, Anderson!” he whispered to his friend, “you will see my friends at home; tell them everything—my mother——” then he broke down.

He was believed to be devotedly attached to Lady Hester Stanhope, eldest daughter of the third Earl Stanhope, famous alike for his eccentricity and his study of the electric fluid; and Moore’s last recorded words were in remembrance of her, addressed to her brother, his aide-de-camp.

He passed away very quietly in his forty-eighth year, and England lost one of her most chivalrous soldiers.

His burial, in the citadel at night by some men of the 9th, has been described in a poem which does immortal honour to the Irish clergyman who penned it, and the gallant enemy flew the tricolour halfmast high on the citadel and fired a salute over his grave, Marshal Soult afterwards erecting a tomb to his memory.

Our loss at Corunna was 800, the French, from their own accounts, 3,000.

Six cannon, 3-pounders, sent on without Sir John’s orders, had been abandoned during the retreat, and nearly 4,000 men left their bones to whiten the plains of Leon and the rugged roads of Gallicia; but the retreat won praise from Wellington and Napoleon alike, and not a regimental colour remained in the enemy’s hands.

The 95th was the last regiment to enter Corunna, the 23rd the last to leave it.

Great confusion existed on board the vessels, and an attempt to transfer the men to their respective ships was prevented by the enemy opening fire from St. Lucia. The cables were cut, and the three hundred transports put to sea on the 17th, convoyed by several men-of-war, the old Victory amongst them, and after cruising about in the offing for two days, they put helm up for England, where the army landed in a wretched condition.

All the clothing of the Rifles was burned behind Hythe barracks, in a state that spoke volumes for the misery undergone.

The Smallbridge went ashore near Ushant, and over two hundred of the German Legion were drowned. Then the newspapers began to raise a disgraceful outcry against the whole expedition, and the good name of Sir John Moore was placed under a cloud by men whose information was false, and whose opinion was of no more value than a spent cartridge.

We have learned the true state of things since then, and ample justice has been rendered to Moore’s noble character in the subsequent histories of that glorious period.

The last survivor of Corunna, Thomas Palmer, of the 23rd, died at the great age of a hundred, and was buried at Weston-super-Mare, with full military honours, in April, 1889—eighty years after his chief was laid to rest “with his martial cloak around him.”

The immediate causes which led to the battle of Navarin, or Navarino, are of a romantic and dramatic character. On the 6th of July, 1826—the Greeks having risen in revolt against the oppression of the Turks in 1820—a treaty had been signed in London on the part of Great Britain, France, and Russia, having for its object the pacification of the Levant by intervention between Turkey and Greece. Through the indiscretion of some unknown official the treaty found its way to the Times, which published it in its issue of July 12th, 1826—six days after its signature. It thus became fully known to all concerned before the official instructions which it rendered necessary could be delivered. As a result, Sir Edward Codrington, the British admiral in the Mediterranean, found himself in a situation of perplexity, and was directed to consult with the French and Russian admirals, and arrange a plan of action with them.

The instructions of the three admirals in question definitely required an armistice between Turkey and Greece, and limited the period for its acceptance to one month. If the result of negotiations should be—as was, of course, anticipated—acceptance by Greece and rejection by Turkey, the admirals were instructed to enter into friendly relations with the former country, and unite their fleets to prevent all Turkish or Egyptian reinforcements or warlike stores from being transported for employment against the Greeks. Each of the allied admirals had particular instructions to take care, if possible, that any measures they might adopt in restraining the Ottoman navy should not wear the aspect of open hostilities. They were directed to endeavour to carry their arguments rather by a display of force than by the employment of it. This, briefly, is a review of the situation whose climax was the battle of Navarino.

Sir Edward Codrington, the British admiral in the Levant, as we have already said, found himself in a situation of perplexity on the publication of the treaty. The French squadron was at Milo, and the Russians had not yet arrived. But with that instant resolution which has always been such a fine characteristic of the British naval officer’s spirit, Sir Edward determined to take the initiative, and with three sail of the line he placed himself before Hydra to oppose, “when all other means are exhausted, by cannon shot” the whole of the Turkish and Egyptian fleet. The “general order,” which he issued to all his captains on September 8th, 1827, well illustrates the policy which the English commander-in-chief resolved to adopt.

“You are aware,” he writes from on board the Asia, “that a treaty has been signed between England, France, and Russia for the pacification of Greece. A declaration of the decision of the Powers has been presented to the Porte, and a similar declaration has been presented to the Greeks. The armistice proposed to each, in these declarations, has been acceded to by the Greeks, whilst it has been refused by the Turks. It becomes, therefore, the duty of the allied naval forces to enter, in the first place, on friendly relations with the Greeks; and, next, to intercept every supply of men, arms, etc., destined against Greece, and coming either from Turkey or Africa in general. The last measure is that which requires the greatest caution, and, above all, a complete understanding as to the operations of the allied naval forces. Most particular care is to be taken that the measures adopted against the Ottoman navy do not degenerate into hostilities. The formal intention of the Powers is to interfere as conciliators, and to establish, in fact, at sea the armistice which the Porte would not concede as a right. Every hostile proceeding would be at variance with the pacific ground which they have chosen to take, and the display of forces which they have assembled is destined to cause that wish to be respected; but they must not be put into use, unless the Turks persist in forcing the passages which they have intercepted. All possible means should be tried, in the first instance, to prevent the necessity of proceeding to extremities; but the prevention of supplies, as before mentioned, is to be enforced, if necessary, and when all other means are exhausted, by cannon shot. In giving you this instruction as to the duty which I am directed to perform, my intention is to make you acquainted thoroughly with the object of our Government, that you may not be taken by surprise as to whatever measures I may find it necessary to adopt. You will still look to me for further instructions as to the carrying any such measures into effect.”

On September 11th Sir Edward Codrington, with the Genoa and Albion, arrived off Navarino, and beheld the whole of the expedition from Alexandria at anchor in the harbour, where it had arrived two days previously. The English squadron hovered off this place for above a week, awaiting the coming of the allies. On the 19th September Sir Edward Codrington notified the admiral commanding the Ottoman force in the port of Navarino that he would be prevented—by extreme measures, if necessary—from attacking the Greeks. Notwithstanding, on the 21st a division of the Turkish expedition got under way, and came out of the harbour. Their intentions were clear, and the British ships cleared for action. What the issue of this incident might have been it is difficult to say, had not the sails of a strange squadron appeared upon the horizon to windward whilst the English and Turks were still manœuvring near the land. The vessels turned out to be the French fleet, under Admiral de Rigny, and whatever might have been the intentions of the commander of the Ottoman expedition, it retired back into the harbour immediately the strangers were near enough for the French colours to be visible.

By the arrival of Admiral de Rigny at Navarino, not only was Sir Edward Codrington’s force largely augmented, but he was relieved of his isolated and critical responsibility by the certainty of a joint action in whatever steps might now be taken. The Russian squadron had not yet appeared; but the British and French admirals at once commenced proceedings by interviewing Ibrahim Pacha, the commander of the Turkish forces at Navarino, and clearly impressing upon him the determination of the allied Courts to carry out the spirit of the treaty, and the necessity imposed on them (the admirals) to enforce the armistice referred to in their instructions. The interview was a long one. Ibrahim said that the admirals must be aware he was a soldier like themselves, and that it was as imperative for him to obey orders as for them; that his instructions were to attack Hydra, and that he must put them into execution, it being for him merely to act and not to negotiate. The admirals replied that they quite sympathised with the feelings of a brave man under such circumstances, and that they congratulated him upon having a force opposed to him which it was impossible to resist. They reminded him that if he put to sea in defiance of their amicable warning they must carry their instructions into execution, and that if he resisted by force the total destruction of his fleet must follow, which, they added archly and significantly, was an act of madness the Grand Seignior could not applaud. Amidst a profusion of Oriental compliments, French politeness, and British bluntness was this interview between the warlike Turk and the allied admirals carried on; and, although in conclusion Ibrahim pledged his word of honour to observe the armistice, yet the actual result of the long palavar was to leave things very much in the same situation in which they had been before.

Admiral Codrington’s description of Ibrahim, contained in a letter written by him to his sister Jane shortly after the interview referred to, is particularly interesting. After a very graphic description of the Turkish camp and of Ibrahim’s tent, he proceeds:—“They first began with the ceremony of introduction, which, as there were a good many of us on either side, was proportionally long.... At length, however, I got settled, and began to look around me again.... This tent also was open, and from his sofa he looked down over the whole harbour, and really the sight was beautiful, covered as it was by the ships and boats of all sorts continually passing to and fro. His tent was outside the walls of Navarin; and, indeed, what force he had with him appeared to be outside of the town. Altogether, I thought he had chosen the coolest and most convenient place to pitch his tent in that could be found. But to return thither. He is a man of about forty years old, not at all good-looking, but with heavy features, very much marked with the smallpox, and as fat as a porpoise. Though I had no opportunity of seeing his height—as he was on his sofa, lying down or sitting the whole time—I should not think him more than five feet seven inches. He was, for a Pacha, plainly dressed, I think, particularly as his followers and officers were covered with gold and embroidery; and, for a Turk, I think his manners were very good indeed. The conversation first began about the weather, and such common-place things; for I learnt (from the interpreter) he does not talk of business till after coffee.”

Ibrahim proved treacherous. He disregarded his own word of honour to accept the armistice, and there followed a long series of negotiations, in which the attitude of the allied admirals gradually grew more threatening and that of the Ottoman leader proportionately defiant. On the 2nd of October, in the midst of a heavy thunderstorm, the Turkish fleet boldly put to sea. This was a direct breach of the parole which had been passed, and the Honourable Captain Spencer, in the Talbot, was instructed to inform the Turkish admiral that he would not be permitted to proceed, and that if he allowed a single gun to be fired at the English flag the whole of his fleet would be destroyed. This message speedily caused the Turks to bring their ships to the wind, and the second in command, Halhil Bey, came on board the Asia. He admitted that he had been present at Sir Edward Codrington’s interview with Ibrahim Pacha, when the latter bound himself in honour not to send any of his fleet out of the port, but pretended to believe that it had been sanctioned for a Turkish squadron to go to Patras. The British admiral bluntly informed Halhil that, having broken their faith with him, he would not trust them henceforth, and that if they did not put about and return to Navarino he would make them. This message was accompanied by the Asia firing a gun and filling her main-topsail; on which the Turkish fleet, by a signal from their admiral, swung their yards afresh and stood back towards the harbour.

This little incident confirmed Sir Edward Codrington in his intention of summarily enforcing the treaty he had been despatched to uphold. Admiral de Rigny, on his part, showed no less a degree of determination to maintain the pledge which his nation had conjointly given to the Greeks. Down to this period, however, the Russians had not appeared upon the scene; but on the 15th of October their squadron, under Count Heiden, joined the French and British fleets off Zante. Sir Edward Codrington, from seniority of rank, was commander-in-chief of the combined fleet. On the 18th of October the three admirals held a conference for the purpose of concerting the measures of effecting the object specified in the Treaty of London—namely, an armistice de facto between the Turks and Greeks. They considered: “That Ibrahim Pacha having violated the engagement he entered into with the admirals on September 25th for a provisional suspension of arms, by causing his fleet to come out and proceed towards another point in the Morea; that since the return of the fleet, owing to meeting Admiral Codrington near Patras, the Pacha’s troops had carried on a warfare more destructive and exterminating than before, killing women and children, burning habitations, etc., for completing the devastation of the country; and that all endeavours to put a stop to these atrocities by persuasion and conciliation, by representations to the Turkish chiefs, and advice given to Mehemet Ali have been treated as mockeries, though they could have been stopped by a word: Therefore the admirals found that there remained to them only three modes of action:—

“1st. The continuing throughout the whole of the winter a blockade—difficult, expensive, and perhaps useless, since a storm might disperse the squadrons, and afford to Ibrahim the facility of conveying his destroying army to different parts of the Morea and the islands;

“2nd. The uniting the allied squadrons in Navarin itself, and securing by this permanent presence the inaction of the Ottoman fleets, but which mode alone leads to no termination, since the Porte persists in not changing its system;

“3rd. The proceeding to take a position with the squadrons in Navarin, in order to renew to Ibrahim propositions which, entering into the spirit of the Treaty, were evidently to the advantage of the Porte itself.”

Having taken these three modes into consideration, the admirals unanimously agreed that the last method was best calculated, without bloodshed, but simply by the imposing presence of the squadrons, to produce the desired end. Sir Edward Codrington had a considerable difficulty to contend with in the jealousy which existed between the Russian and French admirals, and it called for no small exercise of tact on his part to maintain harmony in the combined fleet. The allied force was as follows:—

English: Three line-of-battle ships, four frigates, four brigs, one cutter.

French: Three line-of-battle ships, one double-banked frigate, one frigate, two cutters.

Russian: Four line-of-battle ships, four frigates.

In all twenty-four ships of war.

The Ottoman force was as follows:—Three line-of-battle ships, four double-banked frigates, thirteen frigates, thirty corvettes, twenty-eight brigs, six fire brigs, five schooners, forty-one transports.

In all, one hundred and thirty sail of vessels. The Turks had in addition to this imposing force an army of 35,000 Egyptian troops in the Morea, of whom 4,000 were on board the transports.

On the 19th of October Admiral Codrington issued his instructions to his colleagues as to the manner in which the combined fleet was to be disposed on entering the port of Navarino.

“It appears,” runs the order, “that the Egyptian ships in which the French officers are embarked are those most to the south-east.[8] It is, therefore, my wish that his excellency Rear-Admiral Chevalier de Rigny should place his squadron abreast of them. As the next in succession appears to be a ship of the line with a flag at the main, I propose placing the Asia abreast of her, with the Genoa and Albion next to the Asia; and I wish that his excellency Rear-Admiral Count Heiden will have the goodness to place his squadron next in succession to the British ships of the line. The Russian frigates in this case can occupy the Turkish ship next in succession to the Russian ships of the line; the English frigates forming alongside such Turkish vessels as may be on the western side of the harbour abreast of the British ships of the line; and the French frigates forming in the same manner, so as to occupy the Turkish frigates, etc., abreast of the French ships of the line. If time permits, before any hostility is committed by the Turkish fleet, the ships are to moor with springs on the ring of each anchor. No gun is to be fired from the combined fleet without a signal being made for that purpose, unless shot be fired from any of the Turkish ships, in which case the ships so firing are to be destroyed immediately. The corvettes and brigs are, under the direction of Captain Fellows, of the Dartmouth, to remove the fire vessels into such a position as will prevent their being able to injure any of the combined fleet. In case of a regular battle ensuing, and creating any of that confusion which must necessarily arise out of it, it is to be observed that, in the words of Lord Nelson, ‘no captain can do very wrong who places his ship alongside that of an enemy.’—Edward Codrington, Vice-Admiral.”

The combined fleet made an attempt to stand into Navarino on the 19th of October, but the wind was too light and the current too strong to enable them to effect their purpose. On the following day, however, at about two o’clock in the afternoon, the allied squadrons passed the batteries at the entrance to the harbour to take up their anchorage. The Turkish ships lay moored in the form of a great crescent, with springs upon their cables, the large ones presenting their broadsides towards the centre, and the smaller craft filling up the intervals between them. The allied fleet was formed in the order of sailing in two columns, the British and French forming the starboard or weather line, and the Russian the lee column. Sir Edward Codrington, in the Asia, led in, closely followed by the Genoa and Albion, and anchored in succession close alongside a line-of-battle ship flying the flag of the Capitana Bey, another ship of the line, and one of the large double-banked frigates, each thus having her proper opponent in the front line of the enemy’s fleet. The four ships to windward, which formed a portion of the Egyptian squadron, were allotted to Admiral de Rigny’s vessels; and those to leeward, in the bight or hollow of the crescent, were to mark the stations of the whole Russian squadron, the ships of their line covering those of the English line, and being followed by the frigates of their division.

Admiral Codrington had been very express in his instructions that no gun should be fired until some act of open hostility was committed by the Turks, and this order was strictly carried out. The three English ships were permitted to pass the batteries, and proceeded to moor in their respective stations with great celerity. But upon the Dartmouth sending a boat to one of the six fire vessels lying near the entrance to the harbour, Lieutenant Fitzroy and several seamen in her were killed by a volley of musketry. This immediately produced a responsive fire of musketry from the Dartmouth and likewise from La Syrène, the flagship of the French admiral, followed almost at once by the discharge of a broadside gun from one of the Egyptian ships, and in a breath almost the action became general.

The Asia was ranged alongside the ship of the Capitana Bey, and equally close to that of Moharem Bey, the commander of the Egyptian squadron. As neither of these ships opened upon the British flagship, notwithstanding the action was raging briskly to windward, Sir Edward Codrington withheld his fire. No interchange of hostilities between the vessels took place, therefore, for a considerable while after the Asia had returned the first volley of the Capitana; and, indeed, it was evidently the intention of the enemy to try and avoid a regular battle, for Moharem sent a message that he would not fire at all. Sir Edward Codrington, equally willing to avert bloodshed, sent the British pilot, Peter Mitchell, who also acted as interpreter, to Moharem with a message to the effect that it was no desire of his to proceed to extreme measures. As the boat went alongside, a discharge of musketry from the Egyptian ship killed Mitchell, and at the same time she opened fire upon the Asia. Upon this Admiral Codrington opened his broadside in real earnest, and so furious was the fire from his ship that in a very little while the ship of the Capitana Bey and that of Moharem were reduced to total wrecks, and went drifting away to leeward.

The French and Russian squadrons played their part gallantly and well. “The conduct of my brother admirals, Count Heiden and the Chevalier de Rigny, throughout,” wrote Sir Edward to the Duke of Clarence, “was admirable and highly exemplary.” In the British division the Genoa and Albion took their stations with magnificent precision, and maintained a most destructive fire throughout the contest. The Glasgow, Cambrian, and Talbot followed the example set by the intrepid Frenchman who commanded the Armide, which effectually destroyed the leading frigate of the enemy’s line and silenced the batteries ashore. Captain Fellows, in the Dartmouth, succeeded in frustrating the designs of the fireships stationed near the mouth of the harbour, and preserved the Syrène from being burnt. The battle was maintained with unabated fury for above four hours, and owing to the crowded formation of the Ottoman fleet, and the close quarters at which the allied ships engaged them, the havoc and bloodshed were prodigious. As the Turkish vessels were one after another disabled, their crews set them on fire and deserted them, and the lurid scene was rendered infinitely more terrible and weird by the flaming ships and incessant explosions among the huddled and shattered craft. The resistance of the enemy then began to sensibly slacken. By the time that night had closed down upon the scene, the Turkish fleet was so crippled as to cease any longer to be a menace to the violation of the Treaty. “When I found,” wrote Sir Edward Codrington, “that the boasted Ottoman’s word of honour was made a sacrifice to wanton, savage destruction, and that a base advantage was taken of our reliance upon Ibrahim’s good faith, I own I felt a desire to punish the offenders.” And most terribly punished they were. Never did British arms bear part in a more complete and decisive victory. When the dusk of the Oriental evening, obscured into a pall-like gloom by the dense banks of smoke, descended over the terrific spectacle, the enemy’s cannonade had grown feeble and scattered, and presently ceased altogether. Their vessels continued to blaze and to explode. Out of the proud fleet which in the noontide of that day had floated serenely upon the blue waters of Navarin harbour sixty ships were totally destroyed, and the remainder driven ashore in a shattered condition, with the exception of the Leone, four corvettes, six brigs, and four schooners, which remained afloat after the battle. The carnage was frightful. According to the statistics furnished by Monsieur Letellier, the French instructor to the Egyptian navy, to Commander Richards, of the Pelorus, the enemy’s losses amounted to 3,000 killed and 1,109 wounded. The defeat, indeed, practically amounted to annihilation. At ten o’clock on the night of the battle, Sir Edward Codrington was writing an account of the victory to his wife: “Well, my dear, the Turks have fought, and fought well too, and we have annihilated their fleet. We have lost poor Smith, Captain Bell, R.M., and many good men.... I am entirely unhurt, but the Asia is quite a wreck, having had her full allowance of the work.” The admiral, however, had a succession of marvellous escapes, and, indeed, almost seems to have borne a charmed life throughout the battle. Mr. Lewis, the boatswain of the Asia, while speaking to him early in the action, was struck dead. Mr. Smith, the master, was also shot down whilst talking with him. Sir Edward was a tall man, and in his uniform must have made a conspicuous figure upon the Asia’s deck. Instead of his cocked hat he wore a round hat, which afforded better shade to his eyes; this was pierced in two places by bullet-holes. His coat-sleeve, which chanced to be rather loose, had two bullet-holes in it just above the wrist. A ball struck the watch in his fob and shivered it, but left him uninjured. Tahir Pacha afterwards admitted to Mr. Kerigan, on board the Blonde, that he himself posted a company of riflemen to aim at the British admiral and shoot him if they could.

The combined fleets quitted the harbour of Navarino on the 25th of October, having tarried awhile, unmolested, to repair damages. They were suffered to depart by the Turks without the firing of a single shot, although it had been quite expected that the batteries would open upon them as they passed the harbour mouth. On the 3rd of November they arrived at Malta. Here they spent some considerable time in refitting. For his services Sir Edward Codrington received the Grand Cross of the Bath; the King of France conferred upon him the Grand Cross of the Military Order of St. Louis; and the Emperor Nicholas of Russia, in an autograph letter, bestowed upon him the rare honour of wearing the second class of the Military Order of St. George.