“The signal for the captains of each ship to assemble on board the Princess Charlotte,” cried Jack. “Hurra! the fun’s to begin.”
The captains having visited the flagship, the squadron stood in, the larger portion taking up a position opposite the town, which they forthwith commenced bombarding, while the rest were employed in landing troops at different points to co-operate with the Turks and to distract the attention of the Egyptians. Suliman Pasha, Governor of Beyrout, in spite of the shot and shell showered into his fortress, held out bravely and fired away in return as hard as he could. It was the first time the three midshipmen of the Racer had been under fire, but as she had not to take any very active part in the affair, they voted it very slow work.
“Is this what you call fighting,” said Jack. “It seems to me as if the fun was all one side.”
“Stay a bit, my boy,” observed Hemming; “this is only just the beginning of the game. Before many days are over perhaps we shall be at something which will make you cry out the other way.”
“At all events we have silenced them; see, up goes a flag of truce on the old castle,” exclaimed Jack.
Jack was right in his fact but wrong in his conclusions. A boat was instantly sent on shore to enquire the meaning of the white flag. She quickly returned to the flagship bringing the Indian mail, with a polite message from Suliman Pasha, assuring the admiral that he was not at war with individuals, and that he should feel a satisfaction in forwarding all letters to and from India. Sir Robert Stopford, himself so generous and polite, was the very man to appreciate such an act of courtesy: he therefore sent back the boat immediately with a case of wine, warmly thanking the Pasha, and begging that he would accept it as a slight acknowledgement of his kindness. This little episode over, the belligerents began firing away at each other as hard as ever. The Pasha showed that he was as brave as he was courteous, for in spite of all the cannonading he would not give in. A short drama was, however, enacted, which showed the midshipmen a little more of the realities of war. An Egyptian deserter came on board one of the ships, and gave notice that a train of gunpowder had been laid along a bridge leading to the eastern castle, in which was collected a large quantity of gunpowder, with the intention of blowing up into the sky any of the besiegers who might succeed in entering the place. The deserter offered to guide any party formed to cut off the train. Commander Worth, of the Hastings, undertook to accomplish the dangerous service; and numbers of officers and men volunteered to accompany him. Jack and Murray and Adair were among others eager to go. However, it was not likely that more than one midshipman from the frigate would be allowed to accompany the expedition. The morning of the day in which it was to take place, Murray had been sent with a message on board the Hastings. He came back with a flush on his cheek and a look of intense satisfaction on his countenance.
“Jack, Terence, my dear fellows, congratulate me. I’m to go. W—, who has known me for some time, has applied for me. He did so in most flattering terms. He said he wanted a midshipman who would be calm and collected whatever might occur, and yet one on whose courage and resolution he could perfectly rely, and he has selected me. It is that he has spoken of me in such flattering terms that has given me so much pleasure. I wish that you two fellows were going also.”
“I wish we were,” said Jack. “But I congratulate you, Alick; you’ll do justice to W—’s choice. That I know right well.”
“There will be more work to be done than when we attacked the pirate’s stronghold the other day,” observed Adair. “Well, I hope that my turn will come before long; I don’t feel as if I had any right to wear starch in my shirt-collars till I’ve taken part in some real downright fighting.”
Jack and Terence warmly shook Murray’s hand, as he stepped into the boat which was to convey him on board the Hastings.
“I say, old fellow, don’t now forget to come back to its safe and sound in life and limb,” cried Terence, laughing; “remember the fright I gave you and Jack. Don’t give him and me the same, and we’ll take care that Pigeon does not malign your character in your absence.”
Away went Murray. To say that he was in high glee would be to use a wrong term. There was a calm satisfaction and proud joy in his heart at the thought that the time had arrived when he might have an opportunity of distinguishing himself in the noble profession he had chosen, and to which he was so devotedly attached. Neither Rogers nor Adair would have felt as he did; and yet, though neither of them could be considered less brave than he was, yet in reality he was the bravest of all three, because his mind was so constituted that he clearly saw all the dangers to be encountered and knew every risk he was running. The expedition rendezvoused round the Hastings. The ships stood in as close as the depth of water would allow them, and then opening their fire, the boats shoved off and pulled away for the bridge which led to the castle. As soon as they appeared a heavy fire of musketry was opened on them from the fortifications; but in the face of it the men clambered upon the bridge, and, led by their gallant commander, rapidly pushed on across it. Jack and Terence eagerly watched the progress of the boats through their telescopes. Their chief sympathy was concentrated on that which contained Murray and his fortunes. They looked upon him as a dear brother, and in spite of their apparent lightheartedness, they both felt the deepest anxiety for his safety. In a very short time the whole party were hid from sight by the thick smoke which surrounded them. Murray with his brave companions, in spite of the leaden shower which came pattering around their heads, pushed on till they reached the spot where the train was laid. A few buckets of water, brought for the purpose, quickly cut off the train; then on they went to the gate of the castle. They were not long in blowing it open. In they rushed, putting the defenders to flight, who made their escape by an opposite gate, rejoicing in the belief that the infidel besiegers would soon be blown up sky high, and become the food of ghouls and vampires. They were sorely disappointed when they found that the castle did not blow up, and that the giaours had taken entire possession of it. The English leader saw that no time was to be lost. He and his men hunted about and soon came upon the casks of powder of which they were in search. “Now, my lads, heave them over the walls into the sea,” he sung out, setting the example which the men were ready enough to follow. Cask after cask was stove and thrown into the sea till some sixty or seventy casks had been destroyed. Sentries had been placed to give notice of the approach of the enemy. Notice was given that they were returning in force. “Now, my lads,” cried Captain W—, “we’ll carry off some of these casks to pepper the fellows with their own powder.” The idea just suited the taste of the seamen. Each man shouldered a cask, and, fearless of the consequences should a spark of fire get inside one of them, away they scampered through the gates and across the bridge with their booty. As soon as the enemy caught sight of them they again opened their fire. Several of the daring party were hit. The officers cheered them on. The fire was hotter than ever. One officer fell. He was a midshipman. The men rallied round him, and lifting him on their shoulders bore him on towards the boats. He did not breathe or give a sign of life. “Who is it? who is it?” was asked. They reached the boats and shoved off; for the Egyptians were gathering in force to attack them. Jack and Terence, perched on the hammock-nettings, were looking out for the return of the expedition. The frigate was close in, and the boats had to pass her on their way to their respective ships. One of the boats of the Hastings came first, the one in which Murray had embarked. A union jack was thrown over a part of the stern-sheets.
“Who have you there?” asked Jack, not able to restrain his anxiety.
“A midshipman, sir, who has been killed,” was the answer.
“Oh, Terence, it must be Murray!” exclaimed Jack, almost falling off the hammock-nettings overboard. “And yet, no, it can’t be; it must not be. Who is he, that midshipman?” shouted Jack; but the boat was already at some distance, and the people in her did not hear the question asked.
The report soon got about the decks that Murray was killed. Jack and Adair would have been gratified at hearing all the things said about him, and the grief expressed at his loss. Still, after giving vent to their grief for a time, they began to hope that possibly he might not have been killed, but only desperately wounded, and they resolved to ask leave to go on board the Hastings to ascertain the state of the case. As they were going aft for that purpose, a boat came alongside, and in a few seconds afterwards, who should appear on deck uninjured in limb, and in capital spirits, but Murray himself.
“Who are you? what are you? where do you come from?” exclaimed Terence, scarcely knowing what he said. “Why, Alick, to a certainty you are dead, are you not?”
“I hope not,” answered Murray, laughing at the reception his two friends were giving him. “I have not been hit or hurt that I know of.”
“All right,” exclaimed Jack, springing forward and grasping his hand, which he wrung heartily. “I am so glad. It would have been too dreadful if you had been killed.”
“Unhappily, one poor fellow of our party, a midshipman, L— of the Hastings, was killed,” observed Murray. “However, let us promise each other for the future, not to fancy that any accident has happened to those who are absent, unless we have very strong evidence of the same.”
“Agreed! agreed!” the other two exclaimed. “Whatever anybody else may tell us, we’ll all believe that we shall meet again somewhere or other, and be happy together.”
It is extraordinary what an effect the notion the three midshipmen had taken up, had on them. If Adair was away, though perhaps on some far-distant station, Jack frequently had to say that he did not know where he was to be found, but he always added, “I am certain that we shall meet again before long. What message shall I give him?” Murray said much the same thing of Jack or Adair, and they said the same of Murray. I cannot follow them through the various scenes of the war in Syria. While Sir Charles Napier, to his great delight, was acting the part of a general on shore, with some of his naval followers as his aides-de-camp, they were employed on board their ship, which, with the rest of the squadron, was engaged in sailing along the coast in co-operating with the army, and in blowing up and capturing one fortress after another of those which still held out for Mehemet Ali. Now and then both bluejackets and marines landed, and, much to their satisfaction, stormed the old Pasha’s strongholds, and literally fulfilled Charlie Napier’s promise of pulling the stones about the ears of his governors. On one occasion success did not attend the British arms, but, as Paddy Adair observed, “It’s an ill wind which blows no one good,” and he here had an opportunity which he had so long desired of distinguishing himself. The fortress was a very strong one, with a high thick-walled tower which looked fully capable of defying the battle and the breeze for a thousand years. The ship stood in with the intention of battering it down, but after firing away for an hour or more, little impression was made, and it was resolved to endeavour to take it by storm. Jack had to stay on board, greatly to his disgust, and he did say that he considered himself a most ill-used officer. Adair and Murray accompanied the body of seamen who, with the marines of the squadron and some mountaineers who had been taken on board along the coast, were landed to form the storming party. The ground between the castle and the sea was laid out in gardens. Here a body of the enemy was drawn up. The storming party landed to the south of the town, covered by the fire of the ships, which also cleared the gardens of the enemy. The marines and bluejackets now pushed bravely on, but encountered a terrific fire from the troops within the forts. Murray and Adair were side by side scrambling over walls and leaping ditches, and cutting through hedges of prickly pears in spite of the showers of shot which rattled round their heads.
“I say, Alick, poets talk of genial showers; I wonder what they would call the shower now rattling round us?” cried Adair, as he waved on his men.
“A leaden shower, I should think,” said Alick.
“Not far wrong, my boy, but I’m afraid it will not make us grow though,” answered Adair. “But, I say, the shot do pepper though.”
They did indeed. Numbers of the marines and sailors were knocked over.
“There’s another poor fellow down,” cried Adair, stooping down to help up the man; but his aid was of no avail. A deep groan escaped from his bosom, his musket fell from his grasp, and he was dead. Adair, with a sigh, for the marine had been his servant, let go his hand and sprang on. In vain the British and their allies fired away at every loophole and embrasure where a man’s head or firelock was to be seen. The enemy rattled away as rapidly as ever, and no impression seemed to be made on the walls, while numbers of the storming party were falling one after the other around. Now a poor fellow would spring up into the air shot through the head, now one would fall down with a groan, and rolling over, clutch convulsively at the earth; one would utter a sharp shriek as he fell; others, with the blood streaming from their limbs, would endeavour to scramble on till they sank with a cry of pain exhausted to the ground. The midshipmen now began to comprehend more clearly than they had ever before done, the stern realities of warfare. They got within thirty yards of the walls when they found themselves in front of a crenelled outwork with a deep ditch before it. In vain the officers looked for some part of the castle wall which might prove practicable. Not a spot appeared accessible, and nothing but the ugly-looking muzzles of the enemy’s muskets were visible through the loop-holes. Most unwillingly was the command given to retire, and most unwillingly was it obeyed.
“I say, Murray, I don’t like this—to have to turn my tail on those red-capped gentry,” exclaimed Adair.
“We must obey orders, at all events,” observed Murray. “Steady, my men, steady,” he added, as some of the sailors were turning round to take a parting shot at the foe.
The marines were drawn off in beautiful order, and the whole party were soon out of the reach of shot. As they were pulling off, Murray and Adair remarked that a flag which had been planted in the garden, in front of the fort, was left flying.
“That will never do; the enemy will be getting it,” cried Adair. “I say, Alick, let you and me go and see if we cannot pull it down, and carry it off.”
“With all my heart,” answered Murray. “Let us put back at once; we must ask Captain A’s leave as we pass his boat. He will not refuse it, I’m sure.”
