by G. A. Henty
“Now we will go aloft,” Wilkinson said.
Edgar ran up almost as quickly as his companion. He had not only been accustomed to ships in the port of Alexandria, but on the voyage to England and back he had spent much of his time aloft, the captains being friends of his father, and allowing him to do as he liked, as soon as they saw that he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself.
“This is not the first time that you have been aloft, sir,” one of the top-men said, as he followed Wilkinson’s example, instead of going up through the lubber’s hole.
“It is the first time that I have ever gone up the mast of a man-of-war,” Edgar replied; “but everything is so big and solid here, that it seems easy after being accustomed to smaller craft. It is a wonderful spread of sail, Wilkinson, after having been on board nothing bigger than a brig. I used to help reef the sails on my way back from England; but these tremendous sails seem altogether too big to handle.”
“So they would be without plenty of hands, but you see we have a great many more men in proportion here than there are on board a merchant craft. Will you go up higher?”
“Certainly.” And they went up until nothing but the bare pole, with the pennant floating from its summit, rose above them. “You don’t feel giddy at all, Blagrove?”
“Not a bit. If she were rolling heavily perhaps I might be, but she is going on so steadily that I don’t feel it at all.”
“Then I will begin by giving you a lesson as to what your duties would be if the order were given to send down the upper spars and yards. It is a pleasure teaching a fellow who is so anxious to learn as you are, and who knows enough to understand what you say.”
For two hours he sat there explaining to Edgar exactly where his position would be during this operation, and the orders that he would have to give.
“When we get down below,” he said, when he had finished, “I will give you all the orders, and you can jot them down, and learn them by heart. The great point, you see, is to fire them off exactly at the right moment. A little too soon or a little too late makes all the difference. It is generally a race between the top-men of the different masts, and there is nothing that the men think more of than smartness in getting down all the upper gear. When you have got all the words of command by heart perfectly, you shall come with me the first time the order is given to send down the spars and yards, so as to see exactly where the orders come in. It is a thing that we very often practise. In fact, as a rule, it is done every evening when we are cruising, or in harbour, or at Spithead, or that sort of thing. When it is a race between the different ships of a squadron, it is pretty bad for the top-men who are the last to get their spars down. But, you see, as we are on a passage I don’t suppose we shall send down spars till we get to Constantinople.”
“What are we going there for?”
“As far as I can understand, the captain is going on a sort of diplomatic mission. His brother is our ambassador there, and he is appointed to act with him in some sort of diplomatic way, I suppose, to arrange what troops the Sultan is going to send against the French, and what we are to do to help him, and what subvention is to be paid him, and all that sort of thing. I expect you will be pretty busy while we are there. Do you understand Turkish?”
“Yes, it is very like Arabic. All the officials and upper classes in Egypt are Turks, and one hears more Turkish than Arabic, except among the Bedouin tribes.”
While they were talking they were leisurely descending the shrouds side by side. As soon as they gained the deck, the captain’s steward came up to Edgar, and said that Sir Sidney Smith would be glad to see him and Mr. Wilkinson to dinner that evening. The captain had abstained from inviting him until he should have got his uniform, thinking that he would find it uncomfortable sitting down in civilian dress. The fact that he was going to dine late in no way interfered with Edgar’s enjoyment of his mid-day meal. During the two days he had been on board, he had got on friendly terms with all his messmates excepting Condor, who studiously abstained from noticing him in any way. The younger midshipmen he bullied unmercifully, and had a general dictatorial way with the others that made Edgar frequently long for the opportunity of giving him a lesson.
He had no doubt that Condor had determined to postpone the occasion until they had left the Pireus, at which point they were to call, as his service might be required there to interpret. Once away from the island, he would not be likely to be called upon to translate until they arrived at Constantinople.
It was a pleasant dinner in Sir Sidney Smith’s cabin. There were present the first and third lieutenants, the captain of the marines, the doctor, Wilkinson, and Edgar. Sir Sidney Smith was a delightful host; he possessed a remarkable charm of manner, was most thoughtful and kind to all his subordinates, and, though strict in all matters of discipline, treated his officers as gentlemen and on terms of equality in his own cabin. He had already accomplished many dashing exploits in the Baltic and elsewhere, and was beloved both by the sailors and officers. It was a time when life in the navy was very rough, when the lash was unsparingly used for the smallest offences, and when too many ships were made floating hells by the tyranny of their commanders.
“I should have asked you to dinner on the day that you came on board, Mr. Blagrove,” Sir Sidney said kindly, as the two midshipmen entered, “but I thought that you might prefer my not doing so until you got your uniform. It has been some privation for myself, for I am anxious to hear from you some details as to what has been doing in Egypt, of which, of course, we know next to nothing at home.”
During dinner no questions were asked, but after the cloth had been removed and the decanters were placed upon the table, he said:
“Now, Mr. Blagrove, we shall be glad if you will give us details of how you came to be left behind, of your personal adventures, and what you yourself witnessed, and your opinion of the situation in Egypt. This is desirable, not only as a matter of general information, but because it will be really useful to me to understand the situation fully, for the purposes of my mission.”
Edgar began his story, but was interrupted almost at the outset by Sir Sidney asking him how he came to be so intimate with these Bedouins. He was therefore obliged to relate how he had rescued the sheik’s son from an attack by two of the lowest class of Europeans in Alexandria. Edgar told the story modestly, making as little as possible of his share in it.
“And were these fellows armed, Mr. Blagrove?”
“They had their knives, but they had not time to use them. These fellows have no idea of boxing, and a straight hit is a mystery to them. The thing was all over in less than a minute.”
“Then, I suppose, you can box?” Sir Sidney said, with a smile.
“I was taught it in England, sir. My father thought that it would be useful, for the population of Alexandria is a rough one.”
Sir Sidney said no more, and Edgar told his story without further interruption, and then answered many questions as to the proceedings of the French, the rising in Cairo—of which Sir Sidney now heard for the first time, and the prospect of a general insurrection.
“I don’t think that there is much chance of that, sir. The defeat of the Mamelukes led them to believe that the French were invincible. The destruction of their fleet showed that this was not the case, and led to the rising at Cairo, but their easy defeat there, and the terrible slaughter inflicted upon them, will certainly cow them for a long time, and as long as the whole French army remains there, I don’t think there will be much further trouble, but if a portion were to march away, no doubt they might muster up courage to attack those that remained. Mourad Bey, with a considerable force of Mamelukes, still keeps the field, and the Arab tribes would certainly join him if they saw a chance of defeating the invaders.”
“And the two men you had that trouble with, have you ever come across them again, Mr. Blagrove?” the first lieutenant asked.
“We came across them in Cairo, sir,” Edgar replied reluctantly. “I was with
my friend, the sheik’s son. They did not recognize me, being in my Arab dress, but they knew him at once and pounced upon him, and were dragging him into a house. Of course, I took his part and there was a fight.”
“And what was the result, Mr. Blagrove?”
“The result was that they were both killed,” Edgar said quietly. “They attacked us with knives, and we had to use ours. My friend killed one of them and I killed the other. It was unfortunate, but it was their lives or ours, and if we hadn’t done it then, the thing would have happened again, and next time we might have been stabbed before we had a chance of defending ourselves.”
“I can quite understand that, Mr. Blagrove,” Sir Sidney said kindly, while the others smiled at the matter-of-fact way in which Edgar related what must have been a very dangerous business.
“I see that, whatever else we may have to teach you, it will not be how to use your weapons. Indeed, it seems to me that you are getting on very fast. I saw you go up the shrouds to-day, and I can see that you will very soon be as much at home there as any of my midshipmen. And now, gentlemen, we have had rather a long sitting, for it is nearly ten o’clock; but I am sure that you must have been as interested as I have been myself, in the information Mr. Blagrove has been good enough to give us.”
“By Jove, Blagrove,” Wilkinson said when they had left the cabin, “if you had told me all this before I should not have felt so doubtful about your fight with Condor. So you can really use your fists well?”
“I learnt for over two years from some of the best light-weights in London,” Edgar replied, “and unless he has had wonderfully good teachers I ought to have no trouble about the matter.”
Two days later the Tigre left the Pireus. To Sir Sidney Smith’s disappointment, he had not found Lord Nelson there, as he had expected to do, and he was the more disappointed inasmuch as he had missed Lord St. Vincent, who was commander-in-chief in the Mediterranean, at Gibraltar.
CHAPTER X
A SEA-FIGHT
Finding that the last news from Lord Nelson was that he was sailing to join the fleet blockading Toulon, Sir Sidney Smith remained but a couple of days at the Pireus, and then continued his voyage to Constantinople. They had had no intercourse with any of the natives, and Edgar’s services had consequently not been called into requisition.
In the afternoon Condor came up to Edgar, who was talking with some of the other midshipmen, and said:
“Now, Mr. Blagrove, if you really meant what you said, I think this is a good opportunity to settle our affair. Your valuable services are not likely to be required for a few days, and if you don’t wish to back out you had better come with me below.”
“With pleasure,” Edgar said quietly. “I have had some difficulty in waiting, and have several times been on the verge of stopping your pleasant habit of bullying youngsters.”
“Well, you need not say any more,” Condor said savagely; “let us see what you can do.”
Wilkinson and two or three others who were off duty went down at once with Edgar, and as the news spread among the others, every midshipman who could possibly get away unnoticed, stole off also, and joined them on the lower deck. Half a dozen lanterns were lighted and hung up from the beams. A few of the sailors, seeing so many midshipmen going down there, guessed that there was a fight coming off, and descending the hatchway forward, stole noiselessly aft to watch it.
Wilkinson had said nothing to the others of what he had heard in the cabin. The general belief was that although Edgar, no doubt, would make a plucky fight of it, he had no chance whatever with an opponent nearly three years his senior, two or three stone heavier, and with a reputation for being able to use his fists well.
The opponents stripped to the waist and faced each other. Wilkinson acted as Edgar’s second; none of the older ones would act for Condor, but a lad of fifteen, who dared not refuse his request, did so.
The combat is best described in the language in which one of the tars who witnessed it related it to his comrades.
“I never seed such a thing in all my born days,” he said. “It did not look a fair thing, for it was like a man against a boy. Condor is about three inches taller than the young ’un, and much more strongly built. The young ’un stripped well, and looked a wonderfully wiry young chap; there was a determined look about his face, and I guessed that he was game to the backbone; but his chance did not seem worth speaking of. Well, they stood up. The young one moved about quick on his pins for a moment, and then, it was so quick that you could scarce see how it was done, he gave a sort of bound, and hit out with his right, and the next moment Condor was on his back.
“I never saw such a clean, knock-down blow in all my life. The mids, they all cheered, and it was plain enough to see which way their ’pinions went. Condor was not down a moment; up he jumped again, looking as savage as a bull, but somewhat dazed. He meant mischief this time, and went with a rush at the young ’un; but lor, the latter just jumped out of his way, and hit him such a smack in the eye that it staggered him altogether. But he did not lose his legs this time, and made another rush. It was the same thing over and over again. The young ’un did just what he liked with him, and after five minutes he knocked him silly, his eyes were beginning to close, he was just bleeding like a pig at the nose; but it was a cut on the mouth that finished him, and knocked him out of time altogether, and the young ’un had never been as much as touched once.
“You should have heard how the middies cheered. As to the young ’un, he seemed to take it as a matter of course, and said, ‘There is nothing in it. Condor fought pluckily enough, but he knows next to nothing of boxing, while, though I say it myself, I am a first-rate boxer. I ought to be, having been taught by the best masters in London for a couple of years.’
“They had to chuck some water on Condor’s face to get him round, for the force with which he struck the deck stunned him. When he was helped to his feet, the young ’un went up to him and held out his hand. ‘I hope there will be no more ill-feeling between us, Condor,’ he said. ‘You have made a bad mistake, and have had to pay for it. Only I say this, that as long as I am on board there shall be no more bullying in the cockpit. We are all gentlemen, I hope. As long as we are on duty, of course, we obey the orders of our superiors, and, as our senior officer, we should all obey you; but when off duty we are equals. And if anyone attempts to bully anyone else, he has got me to reckon with.
“‘There is no reason why we should not have a pleasant time when we are below, and I will do my best to see that we do have it. You are the senior of the mess, and as such have to keep order; but beyond that you have no right to interfere. Now let us shake hands and say no more about it.’
“Condor shook hands without saying a word, and then slipped away. I have seen many a fight since I first took to the sea, but never such a fight as this before. It were just a massacre of the innercents, and I don’t think a fellow was ever more thoroughly sucked in than Master Condor when he undertook the job.”
Condor had to go on the sick-list half an hour after the fight was over. His eyes were almost closed, his face was enormously swollen, and he had lost three teeth—the effect of the blow that had brought the conflict to a close.
“Did you know how it was going to be, Wilkinson?” one of the other seniors said as they went up on the deck again.
“I guessed pretty well, from what Blagrove was telling Sir Sidney when he dined with him, that Condor would meet his match, but I did not think that it was going to be a hollow thing like that.”
“What do you mean, sir, by skulking below?” the second lieutenant angrily asked one of the midshipmen of his watch as he returned on deck.
“I just slipped below for a few minutes, sir,” the lad said.
“Well, you had better be careful, or you will find yourself at the mast-head,” the lieutenant said sharply.
“I fancy there has been a fight,” the first lieutenant said as Mr. Knight passed him, grumbling to himself. “I noticed just now
that there were only two midshipmen on deck. Do you see, they are coming up the hatchway, one by one, looking as innocent as a cat that has been at the cream-jug. They seem to be pretty nearly all here now, but I don’t see any signs in any of their faces that they have been in trouble.
“Well, well, midshipmen are only boys, and boys will quarrel. I expect we both had our share of it before we got our epaulettes.”
The other laughed. “I suppose so,” he said; “and after all it does them no harm, and it is much better, if two boys do quarrel, that they should fight it out and have done with it, instead of always wrangling.”
“I thought it might have been Blagrove,” the first lieutenant said. “A new hand generally has a fight before he has been on board a fortnight. After that he finds his level. However, it is not him, for there he is, looking as cool as a cucumber. It must have been some sort of meeting to discuss some fancied grievance. I daresay we shall hear something about it sooner or later.”
Half an hour afterwards the doctor came on deck. There was a smile on his face as he went up to the first lieutenant.
“One of your officers is on the sick list, Mr. Canes.”
“What is the matter with him?”
“I should say that it would come under the head of contusions.”
The lieutenant laughed.
“Bad contusions?”
“Rather more serious than is usual in these cases. Face greatly swelled, eyes closed, very great enlargement of the nose, lips puffed and badly cut, three front teeth missing.”
“By Jove, that is severe punishment! Who is it?”
“Master’s mate Condor.”
“Why, who has he been fighting with?”
