LEISURE HOURS
We stayed a few days at Constantinople _en passant_. I enjoyed as many
hours as possible ashore at the Embassy with the kind Lord Stratford
de Redcliffe and his charming family. Then we cruised, spending a few
days at the lovely Princes Islands, in the Sea of Marmora; then on to
Smyrna. Smyrna was a charming place to lie at. The merchants and the
Levantines were hospitable. After their work hours, I used to drive out
to their country bungalows, and dine and stay the night; and, by my
wig, what pretty girls were to be seen! Lovely little one- or two-story
houses, each (generally) with a marble courtyard in the middle of
the building, and delicious fountains playing in the centre of this
yard, which was a mass of flowers and pretty shrubs--such was Smyrna.
The gardens beyond were delightful. Usually there were dances in the
evenings (which were deliciously cool), or rubbers of whist. The
bazaars also were an attraction, and very good; and the town to my mind
seemed more Turkish than Constantinople itself. Sometimes we gave a
dance on board, or took our friends for a picnic. In fact, the sojourn
was enjoyable. Dwelling there was a certain Miss Blount, our Consul’s
daughter. She was considered a great beauty, and was always called “The
Fair Maid of Athens,” being so like the lady of Byron’s song. I rather
think that her father was Consul at Messalonghi, where, it is said,
Byron wrote his lines on “The Fair Maid.”
After leaving Smyrna, we sailed for the Piræus. We stayed some little
time, refitting; and we mids got up regattas, hiring the sailing boats
of the Piræus, and racing round Salamis bay and islands. Here it was
that I derived my first taste for boat-sailing, which in my late
years led to so much yacht-racing in England. The snug harbour of the
Piræus always had a charm for me. I have often visited Athens since
those days, both in men-of-war and in a private capacity; and I know
of no better station to be on while in command of a ship. Your limits
generally extended from Corfu to Chalchis. Corfu and its islands are
perfectly charming, and afford excellent wild shooting. I have made
very considerable bags in those parts; and was, luckily, once under the
command of a genuine sportsman, Admiral Hobart Pasha. We used to shoot
great quantities of game in the Morea, all round in the bays of those
lovely stretches of country. Fifty or sixty couple of woodcock fell
to our guns on several occasions, when you just happened to hit off a
flight of these birds. Snipe also abounded, and wild duck and pigs were
to be got. Indeed, in all the bays there was always plenty of game,
and in the higher lands the red-legged partridge. Hobart was a genuine
sportsman, and a wonderfully good shot. Every day of the week he used
to get some shooting, devoting Sundays to consular work, or to whatever
business the ship was sent to do: shooting was more to his taste. We
had still better sport up a river called the Jahun, in Iscanderoun Bay.
We were returning to our ship on one occasion, having been tenting-out
up this fine river for ten days. Our two boats were well laden with
game, besides wild boar. Unfortunately, the boat containing Hobart and
myself filled and swamped as we were crossing the bar. We managed to
touch hard sand when we stepped out; but it was touch-and-go, as the
current out of the river was at a great pace, and the breakers and surf
were running very high. Thank God, we all escaped; but we lost our
boat, game, guns, dogs, and all. The poor brutes swam in our eddy as
long as they could; but soon they became exhausted, and drifted away to
sea, to be drowned.
The society at Athens was most enjoyable, and the number of times I
lost my heart it would be hard to say. In late years, when I commanded
the _Rapid_, a wooden sloop, my very dear friend and most excellent
Commander-in-Chief, Sir Hastings Yelverton, used invariably to send me
to that station, where I had the honour of becoming acquainted with His
Majesty King George and Her Majesty Queen Olga. No words that I can use
would be commensurate with the marked kindness and hospitality that I
received at their Majesties’ hands. I spent many of the happiest days
of my life under their roof, or otherwise in their society; and some
who may chance to read these lines will bear me out in acknowledging
the debts of gratitude which those who had the distinguished privilege
of their Majesties’ acquaintance must have felt for the kindness shown
to them on their visiting Athens, and that lovely country-seat, Tatoi.
I first knew Athens in King Otho’s reign; and I was there at the _coup
d’état_, when His Majesty was conveyed away in Her Majesty’s ship
_Sylla_, commanded by Rowley Lambert.
From Athens the _Princess Royal_ was suddenly ordered to proceed
post-haste to the island of Zea, in the Archipelago, where the _Royal
Albert_, flagship, had sought refuge, having sprung a serious leak
in her stern post on the way from Constantinople. We found her with
her bows run ashore, and hard at work having the leak repaired. We
assisted, and in a day or two were enabled to get her off. A paddle
sloop, the _Sphynx_, took her in tow. We formed the escort, and
eventually arrived all together at Malta.
Dear old place! What a time we middies had there! I immediately fitted
myself out with new clothes, took a stall at the Opera, and was the
young swell to my heart’s content. The performances were very good
for second-class singers. Some made their fame afterwards in European
capitals, and rose to the zenith of their profession. Balls, parties,
and every sort of fun went on during our stay. We used to ride in
parties of twenty or more all over the island. Helter-skelter we flew
along those hard rocky roads, to the peril of anything that came across
our path. Cetta Vechia was the famous _rendezvous_ for luncheon or
refreshments, and the orange gardens suffered considerably from our
thirsty mouths. The Maltese, apparently, did not mind. Fresh from
the war, we were given unlimited licence in our expeditions; and we
certainly made the most of it.
The harbour was always astir, transports and ships of war constantly
arriving or leaving: all was interest and excitement.
Malta had great fascinations to my mind. Everything was picturesque: a
beautiful harbour, with its numerous creeks splitting up the town into
several small ones: though under different names, it was all Malta.
There were an excellent club, races, cricket, and every sport save
shooting, though quails were to be found at certain seasons.
About the middle of April 1856 our stay at Malta came to an end. We
left for a cruise in the Archipelago: to pass the time during the long
armistice, and also, I imagine, to be handily awaiting events while the
peace preliminaries were under discussion.
We had not long to wait. A day or two after we arrived at the island of
Rhodes the _Spiteful_ hove in sight, flying the signal, “Have important
despatches for you.” These turned out to be an order to proceed
full-speed to Constantinople, to hoist our guns out, and be off as fast
as possible to the Crimea, to take on board troops for conveyance to
England. Hurrah! We were indeed glad to find the war at an end and home
looming in the near future. Our guns were hoisted out on the Asiatic
side of the Bosphorus, and one day sufficed to turn the man-of-war into
a troop-ship. Eighteen months is not a long time for a sailor to be
away from home; yet as a boy, especially after war service, one felt
anxious to return to one’s family,--a small warrior full of narrative.
My cadet’s time had now expired: so I was able to don “the patch” of
white on the collar, and felt as proud as Punch.
From the Bosphorus we made for Katzatch harbour, and took on board a
battalion of the Scotch Fusilier Guards, 1260 strong.
We had a fine army at the close of the war. I believe that most of the
regiments were on a real war-strength footing. The Scots Fusiliers were
a splendid regiment, officered by some of the finest fellows you could
possibly meet. Several were great friends of mine for years afterwards;
though, as I write this, many of them are gone. Alister Frazer,
Trefusis, Astley (the mate), Gordon, Erskine, Gipps,--all had served
through the war. Landing at Varna in 1854, they had fought at the
Alma, at Inkerman, at Balaclava, and in other actions, and weathered
the storm of shot and shell in the trenches during those tedious and
trying times. It was a marvel they lived to tell the tale. I believe
that only 400 of the men who landed with the regiment at the beginning
of the war came home in my ship. Most of the other ships of the Fleet
were embarking troops, and every available steamer was chartered from
the Merchant Service. The _Himalaya_ bore the palm for size and beauty.
She was looked on in those days as simply majestic: nothing approached
her in size. She was afterwards brought into the Navy from the P. and
O. Company, and for years afterwards she served as a troop-ship with
the White Ensign at the peak, and was always, until her last days,
considered a perfect vessel: she could be relied on to make her long
passages almost to a day. I saw her in 1896, about to be broken up,
lying in the Hamoaze at Plymouth; and I could not help feeling a pang
when I heard that her days were numbered and she was to be broken up,
for a more dutiful vessel has not graced the Royal Navy. On whatever
station one happened to be, out would come this glorious old ship,
looking as neat as possible, even in her old age.
We in the _Princess Royal_ did all we could to make the time pass
pleasantly for the Scots. The Mate (Astley) was always to the fore
sky-larking with us mids; and we tried the old game of getting him
aloft to lash him to the rigging, so that he should “pay his footing”
(as it was called); but he was as nimble as a cat, and we never
succeeded.
We stopped to coal at Malta and at Gibraltar, and made the best of
our way to England under steam and sail. We took three weeks from
Sebastopol to Spithead: not a bad time for a liner of those days.
Directly we anchored at Spithead a couple of gun-boats were lashed
alongside, and our living freight was soon away to the ringing cheers
of our sailors. Again and again this healthy display went on, until
the boats were nearly into Portsmouth harbour.
My ship went into harbour, and was soon dismantled and paid off.
Shortly after this event my father received a letter from Captain the
Honourable Henry Keppel; and I cannot do better than give a copy of
it.--
MY DEAR LORD SANDWICH--Your son Victor and myself have established
a friendship and mutual regard I flatter myself for one another.
Should I be appointed to a frigate going to India, how far would it
suit you and Lady Sandwich if I were to apply for him. I need not
say the pleasure it would afford me to have the little fellow under
my care, and I cannot help thinking that nothing is so beneficial
to a youngster as the regularity and system established in a
man-of-war during a long sea-voyage, and nothing so injurious as
the constant harbour work (after the first two years of servitude)
of a line-of-battle ship.--Allow me, my dear Lord, to remain, Yours
very truly,
HENRY KEPPEL.
How this letter describes the man who wrote it! It is so full of kind
solicitude that, I am sure, he thought not of his own interests, but
only of the good it would do me to go out on a long commission, and
gain a deal of sea experience into the bargain, as he was about to
hoist his pennant in a sailing frigate. He knew, also, how the war had
kept us mids away from regular study in navigation and other branches
of our profession.
[Illustration: H.M.S. ‘Raleigh,’ 50-gun sailing frigate, wrecked off
Macao (China), the 14th of April 1857.]