The fortress of Magdala consists of three hills. Magdala itself, the strongest of the three, upon which the royal town is situate, lay behind the other two, and, except across a wide neck separating it from them, was inaccessible, as upon its other three sides it rose almost precipitously from the plain. The two hills in front were called Sallasye and Fala. As there was no intention of attacking until the second division had reached the spot, the troops were ordered to lie down, and an hour or two passed in inactivity. Then, with telescopes, a stir could be seen upon the top of Fala, where several guns were in position. Presently there was a flash, a pause for a second or two, and then the sound of a ball whistling through the air. This fell near the Beloochees, who were lying with piled arms on the plateau. Almost simultaneously a great body of men were seen descending by the road which led from the neck connecting the hills of Fala and Sallasye. When the head of this body reached the plateau it broke up, and was seen to be composed of great numbers of natives, headed by many chiefs on horseback.

Sir C. Napier at once gave orders for the 4th to advance. Thirst and fatigue were forgotten in a minute, and at a swinging trot the 4th passed to the front. The next order was for the Naval Brigade to advance to a knoll which commanded the plateau, and to open fire with their rockets upon the crowd of advancing enemies.

The moment was critical, the head of the baggage train had just reached the plateau from the ravine below, and there was a doubt whether the enemy would not be upon it before the troops could come to its assistance. The sailors were but a short time in laying their tubes, and a cheer broke from the troops as the first rocket whizzed out across the plateau. The roar and rush of this strange, and to them unknown, missile caused an instant halt of the advancing crowd of Abyssinians. The horses of the chiefs swept round and round, and scampered hither and thither in wild affright. The footmen paused, and for a moment it seemed as if the attack was coming to an end. Rocket after rocket whizzed out; but as the Abyssinians soon saw that the destruction wrought by these missiles bore no proportion whatever to the noise they made, they speedily recovered themselves, and advanced bravely to the attack.

The delay, short as it was, had, however, enabled the 4th to come into line, and as the Abyssinians advanced they opened a heavy fire of musketry upon them with their breechloaders, which were here for the first time used by British soldiers in actual warfare. For a few minutes the Abyssinians stood bravely against the storm of shot; then, leaving the ground scattered with dead and wounded, they turned and made towards the fortress.

In the ravine itself the combat had been more serious. There a large number of Abyssinians, coming straight down from Magdala, fell upon the baggage train. The company of the 4th under Captain Roberts, forming the baggage guard, defended themselves and their charge gallantly. Fortunately many of the mules were loaded with ammunition. These were broken open, and the contents served out; and the men were consequently enabled to keep up a steady stream of fire upon their opponents. These, however, pressed gallantly forward, and did not give way until the Punjaubees, advancing to the edge of the plateau, took them in flank, and, pouring volley after volley among them, drove them up the hillside with a loss of more than 500 killed. This body was estimated at 2000 strong, and it is questionable whether any of them returned to Magdala.

As the enemy upon the plateau retreated, the Naval Brigade moved forward and took up a fresh position, and sent their rockets into the crowd as they ascended the path to their fortress, and then, turning their aim at the guns upon its edge, near which Theodore was himself standing, sent their rockets up with so accurate an aim that the guns were speedily deserted. King Theodore himself was greatly moved by these strange implements, and asked Mr Rassam, whom he had placed near him, if they were allowed in civilised warfare. In all, the fight cost the Abyssinians 800 killed and 1500 wounded, besides the 1500 whose retreat to the fortress was cut off.

The effect of this encounter upon Theodore was immense. Hitherto he had looked upon himself as invincible, and believed that he should defeat the English without the least difficulty. This view was also held by all the people through whom we had marched upon our way. In Abyssinia it is the priests only who wear head-gear, and the people viewed the helmets of our soldiers as signs that, if not absolutely clerical, they were at least men of a peaceful disposition. Our close formation, too, had altogether failed to impress them, and the reports which had been forwarded to Theodore had no doubt confirmed his belief that we were not formidable as opponents. The complete defeat of his army on the plateau of Aroge, in which his most trusted general, Fitaurari Gabriye, was killed, completely shook him, and among his people the disinclination to renew the combat with men armed with such wonderful weapons was complete. The Abyssinians, indeed, complained that we did not fight fair; their custom being that a line of men should advance, discharge their pieces, and then retire, after which the opposite side did the same. Then when the battle had gone on for some hours, the party that had lost most men retired. The steady advance of the British troops, and the incessant fire which they kept up, struck them as opposed to all rules of fairness.

Theodore now sent down to inquire what terms would be given him; but the reply was that nothing short of unconditional surrender could now be granted, but that if he would send down his captives, and submit, his life should be spared, and honourable treatment given him. He now sent down a large herd of cattle, and these were, somewhat unfortunately, received, for there is no doubt that the reception was, in accordance with Abyssinian customs, a sign that hostilities would come to an end, and the following morning the whole of the captives were sent into camp. Theodore again asked for terms; but was again informed that unconditional surrender could alone be accepted.

By this time the second division had arrived upon the scene, and a strong force prepared to attack the stronghold of the Abyssinian king. The Gallas, the hereditary enemies of the Abyssinians, had come up in great numbers and encircled the fortress behind, rendering all escape in that direction impossible, for although the fortress could not be attacked from the rear, there existed two or three narrow paths by which escape was possible. On the night before we attacked, Theodore attempted to escape in this manner; but finding the Gallas everywhere in force, he returned to his citadel and prepared to defend it to the last. His army was now, however, determined to offer no further resistance. Cowed by the terrible slaughter at Aroge, and seeing that the power to order wholesale executions had now passed out of the tyrant's hands, the whole of the chiefs and their followers declared that they would no longer obey his orders, and only some twenty or thirty faithful men remained with him.

The 33rd Regiment led the assault, and advanced up the steep road by which the enemy had before descended to the attack. Fala and Sallasye were covered with natives, and at every moment an attack was expected upon us, although messages had been sent down by the chiefs saying that they rendered their submission. The 33rd, however, gained the top of the hill without a shot being fired, and there some 15,000 or 20,000 persons were seen sitting quietly down. Orders were given to disarm the men, and they and their families were then suffered to leave, and the force moved over the shoulder of Sallasye towards Magdala itself.

A small party of officers and others, riding on in advance, came, at the edge of the shoulder connecting Sallasye with Magdala, upon some fifteen of Theodore's guns, which he had not had time to take with him into Magdala. At the same moment a party of horsemen, among whom the natives recognised Theodore himself, came down the steep path from the fortress, and rode about on the plateau, brandishing their arms and shouting defiance. The officers dismounted, and finding some cases of ammunition with the guns, turned these upon Theodore, and speedily drove him and his companions up into the fortress again.

Presently the 33rd and Naval Brigade arrived on the spot, as well as Penn's Battery, and fire was opened upon Magdala by the guns and rockets. Soon some of the conical thatched houses which covered the top of Magdala were in flames, and after half an hour's fire the 33rd advanced to the attack. As they ascended the steep hill, shots were fired from the inside. The 33rd replied by thrusting their muskets through the loopholes; others climbed up a steep shoulder, from which they commanded the back of the gate. The defenders were shot down, and the English soon entered the place. A few shots more only were fired, and one of these proved fatal to the Abyssinian king. Whether he killed himself, or whether he was shot, will ever remain a disputed question. But the general opinion was that he fell by his own hands. Certain it was that the shot entered his mouth and passed out at the back of his head.

The work of the expedition was now over. Great numbers of native prisoners, many of whom had been detained in Magdala for years, were released; the huts dignified by the name of the Palace were fired; and soon nothing remained of the royal town save blackened ashes. The expedition then turned its face to the sea, which it reached just in time. Had it been a few days later, the rains, which had already commenced, would have filled the passes, and confined the troops prisoners on the plateau land until their subsidence.

The result of this expedition gave great satisfaction at home, and a peerage was conferred upon the able and fortunate commander, under the title of Napier of Magdala.



CHAPTER TWENTY.

THE ASHANTI WAR—1874.

Seven years after the Abyssinian campaign another African war broke out, this time upon the western coast.

Here, at a short distance above the line, lies the British colony of Cape Coast. The town, known as Cape Coast Castle, had been in the possession of the English for centuries, and a large tract of country down the sea coast, and extending back 80 miles to the river Prah, was under their protectorate.

North and west of the Prah were the Ashantis, a warlike race, who had gradually conquered and absorbed all their neighbours. The rites and ceremonies practised by the kings at Coomassie, their capital, were of the most savage and bloodthirsty nature, rivalled in this respect only by the neighbouring kingdom of Dahomey. At coronations, funerals, or other state occasions, it was customary to immolate hundreds of victims, and in order to supply this demand constant wars were undertaken. The Ashantis had for the most part kept up their connection with the sea through Elinina, a town situate some seven or eight miles from Cape Coast Castle. This place belonged to the Dutch; but a short time before, it had been handed by them to us in exchange for some positions farther up the coast. This caused much offence to the Ashantis, who maintained that Elmina was tributary to them, the Dutch having been in the habit for very many years of sending an annual present, or, as the Ashantis regarded it, tribute.

The Ashantis had some grounds for their belief that they could overcome any force that the English could send against them, for in the year 1824 an expedition, headed by the governor, Sir Charles Macarthy, had crossed the Prah against them, and had been surrounded and cut to pieces, only three men escaping. As this defeat had never been avenged, the Ashantis were justified in the belief that they were capable of overrunning our country; and in 1873 a large force crossed the Prah and fell upon the villages of the Fantis, as the natives of this part under British protection are called. The natives of the protectorate having for very many years been prevented from fighting among themselves, had lost all their national virtues of bravery, and the consequence was that they were utterly unable to withstand the advance of the Ashantis.

The only forces at the command of the governor were some companies of the 2nd West India Regiment, a body of Fanti police, and a small force of Houssas, an extremely brave and warlike people living near Lagos, ready at all times to enlist where fighting is likely to go on. This little force was commanded by Lieutenant Hopkins; but, when the Ashantis approached, the great body of our Fanti allies, after fighting for a few hours, fled, and Lieutenant Hopkins, being unable with so small a force to withstand the approach of the enemy, fell back. The Ashantis took possession of Dunquah, and thence threatened both Elmina and Cape Coast Castle. The castle itself was originally strong, and was still in sufficiently good repair to resist any attack that the enemy were likely to make upon it, but the town was entirely incapable of defence; and had the Ashantis pushed on after their victory, there can be little doubt that both Cape Coast and Elmina would have fallen into their hands.

Fortunately, however, HMS Baracouta, Captain Freemantle, arrived upon the spot, and a body of 110 marines under the command of Lieutenant— Colonel Festing, of the Royal Marine Artillery, was landed. Martial law was proclaimed. The inhabitants of the native town of Elmina rose; but the Baracouta bombarded the place, and set it on fire, and the natives retired to join their Ashanti friends in the woods. These were now approaching the town; and Colonel Festing landed with the marines and marine artillerymen, a party of bluejackets belonging to the Baracouta, Druid, Seagull, and Argus, under Captain Freemantle, some men of the 2nd West India Regiment, and a body of Houssas. The Ashantis, some 2000 in number, marched boldly along, and attempted to outflank the position occupied by the English.

In this they would have succeeded had not Lieutenant Wells of the Baracouta opened fire upon them with a very heavy fire of Sniders on the part of his tars. The head of the column was arrested, and Colonel Festing, advancing upon them with his main force, opened fire, and thus, attacked both in front and on the flank, the Ashantis fled, leaving 200 killed. Several other skirmishes took place. Lieutenant Gordon, who had raised a body of Houssas, did excellent service, and formed a redoubt at the village of Napoleon, about five miles from Cape Coast. Except, however, within range of the guns of the forts, the whole country was in the hands of the Ashantis.

It was now evident that a force which was estimated at 20,000 could not be driven out from the vast woods which covered the whole country as far as the Prah, with so small a force as that at the disposal of the authorities, and it was determined by the Home Government to send out an expedition to deliver the protectorate of its invaders, and to chastise the Ashantis on their own ground. In the meantime the Simoom arrived on the coast with a strong body of marines and marine artillerymen, and Commodore Commerell came up from the Cape of Good Hope and took the command of the naval portion of the forces.

He determined to ascend the Prah with the boats of the squadron, to see what facilities that river offered as a means of advance into the interior, and to communicate with the chiefs upon the bank. He had ascended the river only about a mile and a half when a very heavy fire was suddenly opened upon him by the enemy concealed in the thick bush which lined the banks. The commodore himself was badly wounded; Captains Luxmore and Helden were also severely hurt; and 4 men killed and 16 wounded. The boats returned at once to the Rattlesnake. The town of Chamoh, which stood at the entrance of the Prah, was the next day bombarded and burnt.

Several other skirmishes occurred; but as we were not in a position to take the offensive, and the Ashantis appeared indisposed to renew their attacks upon Elmina or Cape Coast, things remained quiet until the arrival of Sir Garnet Wolseley, with some twenty English officers, in the Ambriz. No troops had been sent with him, as it was considered that the situation might have changed before he reached the coast, or that upon his arrival there he might find the force of marines and bluejackets, with the aid of the 2nd West India Regiment, another wing of which had come down from Sierra Leone, sufficient for the purpose.

He found, however, that the situation was far too serious: that the Fantis were utterly untrustworthy; and that with so small a force he could make no impression upon the great Ashanti armies gathered in the woods. Two regiments of natives were, however, enrolled, the one under Lieutenant-colonel Evelyn Wood, the other under Major Russell, each of them numbering some 300 or 400 men. It was decided that the advance into Ashanti should be attempted from two different points. At the southern point of the colony, where the river Volta forms the frontier of the territory, Captain Glover, formerly of the Royal Navy, was commissioned to raise a large native force. Upon the opposite side of the Volta the people were in alliance with the Ashantis, and unless a strong demonstration had been made at this point, they might at any moment have crossed the river and attacked the protectorate from the east.

The first operation undertaken by Sir Garnet Wolseley was an attack upon several of the villages near Elmina, occupied by the Ashantis. The most perfect secrecy was maintained as to the plans, for it was certain that the enemy were accurately informed of all our doings. It was given out that Sir Garnet intended to go down to Accra, some 50 miles down the coast, and many of his officers at the time of embarkation believed this to be the true state of the case.

On board ship all preparations had been made for landing, and before daybreak the men-of-war were off Elmina. The boats were at once lowered, and the marines and bluejackets disembarked. At Elmina they were joined by several companies of the 2nd West India Regiment in garrison there. A large number of native bearers were also in readiness, these having been sent off the night before, with orders to bring back stores.

Morning was just breaking when the force moved forward. For the next three hours no resistance was met with. One village found deserted was burnt.

As they passed along through the bush, the Houssas, who had been drilled by Captain Rait, RA, kept up a tremendous fire, yelling and shouting. But as their aim was quite wild and half the guns fired into the air, much ammunition was wasted. Captain Freemantle with the sailors then made for the left of the wood so as to divert the enemy's attention. A heavy fire was poured in upon them by the natives, who were completely hidden from our men.

The marines and bluejackets pushed on steadily in the direction of a village which lay in the centre of the wood. The natives, who were assembled in large numbers, kept up a heavy fire from the roofs of the huts. As Captain Freemantle was advancing to find a better place for the gun, he was wounded by a slug, which passed right through his arm, but fortunately was able to continue directing the gun. The Houssas under Captain McNeill were doing little good by their indiscriminate firing, and indeed it was a matter of some difficulty to keep them together. Colonel McNeill was severely hit in his arm, and subsequently had to return to England from the effects of the wound.

A combined movement was made upon the enemy, who retreated from the village before the dashing of the bluejackets.

From this village the force marched to the sea coast, whence a portion continued their way some four miles farther, and attacked and carried another village, where the Ashantis made a somewhat obstinate defence. The force here was embarked by the boats of the squadron, while the remainder marched back to Elmina. The distance marched by the seamen and marines who had been up all night, was no less than 21 miles, under a burning sun. In the course of the march several deep swamps, where the water came over the men's knees, had to be crossed. The paths were everywhere difficult in the extreme, and yet no man fell out, and only four were admitted to hospital upon the following day.

The next engagement took place near Dunquah, where Colonel Festing commanded the force. Sallying out to attack a large body of Ashantis, he inflicted considerable damage upon them; but their numbers were so strong, and they fought with such determination, that he was obliged to fall back. Lieutenant Wilmot, who commanded eight Houssas of the artillery, was early in the fight wounded in the arm, but continued at his post until, an hour later, he was shot through the heart. A few days afterwards another indecisive fight of the same nature took place.

A position of much importance, lying some three miles off the main road, was the village of Abrakrampa. This place had been a missionary station, and contained a church and several houses, besides the village huts. It lay in the heart of the forest, and at night the sound of the war-drums of the Ashantis could be plainly heard. The post was commanded by Major Russell, with his black regiment, and he had with him a body of seamen and marines. As, however, the amount of fever among the white men on shore was very great, and the naval officer in command, Captain Freemantle—for Commodore Commerell had been obliged to return to the Cape from the effect of his wound—was anxious that his men should not remain upon shore, orders were sent up to Major Russell to march the marines and seamen down to the shore. Fortunately, however, an hour or two before the men were to start, the news arrived that the Ashantis were advancing to attack the camp.

A breastwork had been thrown up round the village, and the church was converted into a sort of keep, platforms having been raised inside to the level of the upper windows, through which the marines and seamen could fire at the advancing enemy. When, from the noise in the woods, Major Russell became assured that the news was true, he sent a messenger to Cape Coast for assistance, and prepared to repel the attack. The Ashantis advanced with great bravery, but were driven back by the rapid fire kept up upon them from the breastworks and church, and presently fell back into the woods again. They, however, continued to beleaguer the place, occasionally showing in great masses.

Directly the news reached Cape Coast every available seaman and marine was landed from the ships, and at seven in the morning the column started. The distance was about 15 miles, and the heat tremendous. An hour's rest was allowed at a village where the road for Abrakrampa turned off from the main line, and at the end of that time the great proportion of our men were sufficiently recovered to continue their march. They made a long detour, so as to avoid coming down by the road by which the Ashantis would naturally expect them to advance, and in which they would have been engaged in a fight in the thick of the forest. They therefore arrived at Dunquah without firing a shot.

It was then late in the evening. The following morning the black troops advanced into the forest, and reported that the Ashantis were in full flight. The garrison then sallied out, and found that the village occupied as the Ashanti headquarters had been deserted, and that the enemy had left. They still, however, lingered in large numbers in the woods near, for a party of Fantis were fallen upon, and many were killed.

The force of bluejackets and marines, together with the 2nd West India Regiment, now advanced towards the Prah, the Ashantis hastily retreating, and no more fighting took place.

Thus the invasion of the protectorate was defeated, and the invaders driven across their frontier, with a loss admitted by themselves of several thousands, before the arrival of a single soldier from England, solely by the naval forces, aided by the one black regiment upon the spot. The West Indians were placed in garrison upon the Prah, and the bluejackets returned to their ships.

In December the 42nd, a battalion of the Rifle Brigade, and the 23rd Fusiliers arrived. It was found, however, that it was impossible to provide transport for so large a force, and the 23rd were therefore re-embarked, together with a battery of Royal Artillery which had also come out. Two hundred of the Fusiliers, however, subsequently re-landed and marched to the front.

On the 1st January the disembarkation took place, and the 42nd Highlanders and Rifle Brigade marched for the front, the Naval Brigade having gone up a week previously. On the 20th the bridge across the Prah was completed by the bluejackets and engineers, under the command of Colonel Home. Lord Gifford, in command of a party of native scouts, first went forward, and was followed by Wood and Russell's native regiments. These pushed forward without opposition, and gained the crest of the Adansi hills. The King of Ashanti was now seriously alarmed, and sent in three German missionaries and a French merchant, whom he had retained for some time as prisoners.

Short as the time had been that the force was on shore, already large numbers were suffering from sickness, and out of the total European force of 1800 men, 215 were already unfit for duty.

Without opposition the force arrived as far as Fommanah, a large village 30 miles from Coomassie. Here letters were received from the king, asking for peace. Sir Garnet Wolseley, however, demanded that hostages consisting of leading members of the king's family should be given up as proofs of his sincerity. The king, however, who was in reality only trying to gain time, took no notice of the demand, and the advance continued.

At the village of Borborassie, a few miles farther, the Ashantis offered their first resistance. The place was carried with a rush by the Naval Brigade, a company of Fusiliers, and some of Russell's regiment. Captain Nicol, who led the advance, was killed.

Information was now gained that the enemy was posted in great force near the villages of Amoaful and Beckquah, and here a battle was expected to take place. Owing to the number of garrisons left at the various posts upon the road, Wood's regiment was now reduced to three companies only, Russell's to four companies. These regiments took their place in the line in the rear of the Naval Brigade.

The plan of battle was that the 42nd were to form the main attacking force, and were to drive the enemy's scouts out of Agamassie, a little village two miles in front of Amoaful, situate in a dense wood. After carrying the village, they were to move straight on, extending to the right and left, and if possible advance in a skirmishing line through the bush. The right column, consisting of half the Naval Brigade and Wood's regiment, was to cut a path out to the right, and then turn parallel with the main road, so that the head of the column should touch the right of the skirmishing line of the 42nd; the left column, consisting of the other half of the Naval Brigade, was to proceed after a similar fashion on the left. The Naval Brigade, it should be said, was commanded by Commodore Hewett. The company of the 23rd was to go behind the head-quarter staff, and the Rifle Brigade to remain in reserve. Thus, could this plan of battle have been carried out, the whole would have formed a hollow square, the right and left columns protecting the 42nd from any of those flanking movements of which the Ashantis were always so fond.

Upon the preceding evening Major Home, advancing from the village of Quarman, at which the head of the column had halted the night before, cut a wide path to within 50 yards of the village of Agamassie, and ascertained that that village was held by a small body only.

The 42nd went on in advance, and with a rush carried the village. For a minute or two the fire lulled, and then from the circle of woods lying around it, a tremendous fire broke out upon them. The first shot was fired a few minutes before eight. The 42nd gradually made their way forward; but some delay elapsed before the Naval Brigade could take up the two positions assigned to it, for Agamassie was but a tiny village, and this was so encumbered by the troops, and with the bearers of the hammocks and ammunition, that movement was difficult in the extreme. The noise was prodigious, the Ashantis using very heavy charges of powder. Close to the village Captain Buckle of the Royal Engineers was shot dead as he led his men, cutting a path into the forest from which the Ashanti fire was pouring out.

For an hour but little advance was made, the Ashantis holding their ground most tenaciously. The two bodies of the Naval Brigade were accompanied by parties of Rait's artillerymen with rockets, but the fire of these and the Sniders was insufficient to clear the way. Even after an hour's fighting, the Ashantis still held the bush, not 200 yards from the village, and two companies of the Rifle Brigade were sent up the left-hand road to keep the line open. The wood was so thick that the Naval Brigade were unable to make much way, and were forced to lie down and fire into the dense bush, from which the answering discharges came incessantly, at a distance of 20 yards or so. The air above was literally alive with slugs, and a perfect shower of leaves continued to fall upon the path.

In the wood, all just views of direction were lost. The sailors complained that the 23rd or the 42nd were firing at them, and the 42nd and 23rd made the same complaint of the Naval Brigade. In fact, from the denseness of the wood, and the general and continuous roar of musketry, it was impossible to gain any just ideas of direction.

Colonel Macleod, who commanded the left column, presently found the resistance in front of him cease; but he knew nothing of the position of the 42nd, with whose left he should have been in touch.

The 42nd were having a hard time of it. They were well handled by Major Macpherson, who was in command. For a time they succeeded in forcing the enemy back, but coming to a swamp between two rises, their advance was for a time completely arrested. Not an enemy was to be seen; but from every bush on the opposite side the puffs of smoke came thick and fast, and a perfect rain of slugs swept over the ground on which they were lying. Captain Rait, assisted by Lieutenant Saunders, brought his gun—for from the narrowness of the path he was able to bring only one into action—well to the front of the 42nd, and poured round after round of grape into the enemy, until their fire slackened a little, and the 42nd again advanced. At the top of the hill the Ashantis made again a desperate stand. Here the gun again did good service, and at last the regiment fought their way over it, the enemy contesting every foot. Another rush was made, and the regiment then burst through the wood into the open clearing in which the large village of Amoaful was situate. Out of 450, they had 9 officers and 104 men wounded. For a short time the Ashantis kept up a fire from the houses; but the 42nd soon drove them from the village, and all further resistance at this point was at an end.

The right-hand column, too, had suffered severely. Colonel Wood received a slug in the left breast, and 6 naval officers and 20 men were also wounded. Captain Luxmore, RN, was in command here. A company of the Rifle Brigade had been sent out to strengthen them, when all at once, just when the battle appeared over, the Ashantis made a tremendous effort to turn our flank and to retake the village of Agamassie. The Rifles in reserve sprang to their feet and advanced to meet them, and for a while the roar of musketry was as heavy as it had been during the day. Then, after an hour's fighting, Sir Garnet Wolseley gave the word to advance. The men of the Rifle Brigade sprang forward, and in five minutes the Ashantis were in full retreat. Altogether, including the natives, the number of British casualties exceeded 250.

The force slept at Amoaful, and the next day the Naval Brigade, with Russell's regiment and Rait's battery, supported by the 42nd, moved off the main road to attack the neighbouring village of Beckquah, which was the capital of one of the most powerful of the Ashanti kings. As the narrow road entered the clearing, the enemy opened a tremendous fire upon them. Lord Gifford rushed forward, followed by his scouts. The Houssas, who were next behind, for once hung back; but the sailors, who came next, sprang forward over the Houssas, and entered the village. The natives, encouraged by the smallness of our force, fought strongly; and as there were over a thousand fighting men in the village, we should have suffered heavily had not the lesson given the day before of the white men's superiority stood us in good stead; and as the Houssas and other companies of Russell's regiment now poured in, the enemy speedily lost heart and fled. The troops were placed in position to defend the place from any attack from the bush, and the sailors, provided with port-fires, set fire to the town from end to end.

Next day the advance began, the orders being that every man was to receive four days' rations, and each regiment take its own provision and baggage. The advance began at seven o'clock. The road was found strewn with the litter cast away by the retreating enemy. The road was very difficult and boggy. Streams had to be bridged in many places by the engineers, and it took six hours to move as many miles. At one village on the way, a thousand of the enemy assembled to make a stand; but their defence was feeble, and Russell's regiment carried the place at a rush.

Upon reaching the village of Agamemmoo, the general sent back for the baggage. This did not arrive until nearly four o'clock, and it was then too late to move on in the night. The clearing was a small one, and so close had the troops to lie, that the whole width and length of the street was paved with human bodies. The next day there was fighting during the whole march, the Ashantis having placed several ambushes. The streams and swamps were even more frequent than upon the day preceding, and eight hours were occupied in going six miles, when the camp halted on the river Dah. A flag of truce came in, but as the king did not send the hostages required, preparations were made for an advance at daybreak in the morning. The engineers set to work to bridge the river, and Russell's regiment waded through, and bivouacked upon the opposite bank.

The night was tremendously wet; but the troops moved forward in high spirits in the morning. The fight commenced as soon as the column had crossed, and was a repetition of that of Amoaful. Lieutenant Saunders, in the front, with his gun cleared the way with grape. The Bonny men, who were in advance, would at last go no farther, and Lieutenant Eyre, adjutant of Wood's regiment, to which they belonged, was killed.

The Rifles then came forward, and very slowly the advance was continued until the head of the column was within 50 yards of the village. Then the Rifles gave a cheer, and with a sudden rush cleared the way to the open, and carried the village. In the meantime the whole column was engaged in repelling a series of flank attacks. These attacks were most gallantly persevered in by the Ashantis, who at times approached in such masses that the whole bush swayed and moved as they poured forward. Their loss must have been extremely large, for our men lined the road and kept up a tremendous Snider fire upon them. Our own casualties were slight, the road, like almost all roads in the country, being sunk two feet below the level of the surrounding ground; consequently the men were lying in shelter, as behind a breastwork.

The Naval Brigade at one time inflicted great slaughter upon the foe, by remaining perfectly quiet, until the enemy, thinking that they had retired, advanced full of confidence, cheering, when a tremendous fire almost swept them away.

It took us, altogether, nearly six hours from the time our advance began until the rear-guard had gained the village, a distance of only a mile and a half. Coomassie was still six miles off, and had the Ashantis continued to fight with the same desperation, we should not have reached Coomassie that night.

The instant the baggage was all in the village, the advance again began.

At first the Ashantis fought with great determination. But our men pushed steadily forward, and then, advancing at a double, the foes, scared by the onslaught, gave way, and fled at the top of their speed. The whole force now pushed forward, and without further opposition crossed the pestilential swamp which surrounds Coomassie, and entered the town.

The king and the greater portion of his fighting men had retired, and as the provisions were running short, and the force greatly weakened by the number of wounded and of men who had dropped with fever, it was impossible to pursue him in the bush. After a day's halt, the blood-stained capital was burnt, and the army retired to the coast.



CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

SPIRITED AND GALLANT EXPLOITS.

A REMARKABLE RESCUE.

The following account is given in the words of Admiral Castle:—

"In the year 1837, I commanded HMS Pylades, on the East India station. We were on our return home, by the way of the Cape of Good Hope, when, on the 8th of May of that year, we were off Cape L'Agulhus. It was blowing a heavy gale of wind, with a tremendous sea running, such a sea as one rarely meets with anywhere but off the Cape, when just at nightfall, as we were taking another reef in the topsails, a fine young seaman, a mizen-topman, James Miles by name, fell from the mizen-topsail-yard, and away he went overboard. In his descent he came across the chain-span of the weather-quarter davits, and with such force that he actually broke it. I could scarcely have supposed that he would have escaped being killed in his fall; but, as the ship flew away from him, he was seen rising on the crest of a foaming wave, apparently unhurt. The life-buoy was let go as soon as possible, but by that time the ship had already got a considerable distance from him; and even could he reach it, I felt that the prospect of saving him was small indeed, as I had no hope, should we find him, of being able to pick him out of that troubled sea; and I had strong fears that a boat would be unable to swim, to go to his rescue, should I determine to lower one. I was very doubtful as to what was my duty. I might, by allowing a boat to be lowered, sacrifice the lives of the officer and crew, who would, I was very certain, at all events volunteer to man her. It was a moment of intense anxiety. I instantly, however, wore the ship round; and while we stood towards the spot, as far as we could guess, where the poor fellow had fallen, the thoughts I have mentioned passed through my mind. The sad loss of the gallant Lieutenant Gore and a whole boat's crew a short time before, about the same locality, was present to my thoughts. To add to the chances of our not finding the man, it was now growing rapidly dusk. As we reached the spot, every eye on board was straining through the gloom to discern the object of our search, but neither Miles nor the life-buoy were to be seen. Still, I could not bring myself to leave him to one of the most dreadful of fates. He was a good swimmer, and those who knew him best asserted that he would swim to the last. For my part, I almost hoped that the poor fellow had been stunned, and would thus have sunk at once, and been saved the agony of despair he must be feeling were he still alive. Of one thing I felt sure, from the course we had steered, that we were close to the spot where he had fallen. Anxiously we waited,—minute after minute passed by,—still no sound was heard; not a speck could be seen to indicate his position. At least half an hour had passed by. The strongest man alive could not support himself in such a sea as this for so long, I feared. Miles must long before this have sunk, unless he could have got hold of the life-buoy, and of that I had no hope. I looked at my watch by the light of the binnacle lamp. 'It is hopeless,' I thought; 'we must give the poor fellow up.' When I had come to this melancholy resolve, I issued the orders for wearing ship in a somewhat louder voice than usual, as under the circumstances was natural, to stifle my own feelings. Just then I thought I heard a human voice borne down upon the gale. I listened; it was, I feared, but the effect of imagination; yet I waited a moment. Again the voice struck my ear, and this time several of the ship's company heard it. 'There he is, sir! There he is away to windward!' exclaimed several voices; and then in return they uttered a loud hearty cheer, to keep up the spirits of the poor fellow. Now came the most trying moment; I must decide whether I would allow a boat to be lowered. 'If I refuse,' I felt, 'my crew will say that I am careless of their lives. It is not their nature to calculate the risk they themselves must run.' At once Mr Christopher, one of my lieutenants, nobly volunteered to make the attempt, and numbers of the crew came forward anxious to accompany him. At last, anxiety to save a drowning man prevailed over prudence, and I sanctioned the attempt.

"The boat, with Mr Christopher and a picked crew, was lowered, not without great difficulty, and, sad to say, with the loss of one of the brave fellows. He was the bowman; and, as he stood up with his boat-hook in his hand to shove off, the boat give a terrific pitch and sent him over the bow. He must have struck his head against the side of the ship, for he went down instantly, and was no more seen. Thus, in the endeavour to save the life of one man, another was already sent to his long account. With sad forebodings for the fate of the rest of the gallant fellows, I saw the boat leave the ship's side. Away she pulled into the darkness, where she was no longer visible; and a heavy pull I knew she must have of it in that terrible sea, even if she escaped destruction. It was one of the most trying times of my life. We waited in suspense for the return of the boat; the minutes, seeming like hours, passed slowly by, and she did not appear. I began at length to dread that my fears would be realised, and that we should not again see her, when, after half an hour had elapsed since she had left the ship's side on her mission of mercy, a cheer from her gallant crew announced her approach with the success of their bold enterprise. My anxiety was not, however, entirely relieved till the falls were hooked on, and she and all her crew were hoisted on board, with the rescued man Miles. To my surprise I found that he was perfectly naked. As he came up the side, also, he required not the slightest assistance, but dived below at once to dry himself and to get out of the cold. I instantly ordered him to his hammock, and, with the doctor's permission, sent him a stiff glass of grog. I resolved also to relieve him from duty, believing that his nervous system would have received a shock from which it would take long to recover. After I had put the ship once more on her course, being anxious to learn the particulars of his escape, as soon as I heard that he was safely stowed away between the blankets, I went below to see him. His voice was as strong as ever; his pulse beat as regularly, and his nerves seemed as strong as usual. After pointing out to him how grateful he should feel to our Almighty Father for his preservation from an early and dreadful death, I begged him to tell me how he had contrived to keep himself so long afloat. He replied to me in the following words:—'Why, sir, you see as soon as I came up again, after I had first struck the water, I looked out for the ship, and, getting sight of her running away from me, I remembered how it happened I was there, and knew there would be no use swimming after her or singing out. Then, sir, I felt very certain you would not let me drown without an attempt to pick me up, and that there were plenty of fine fellows on board who would be anxious to man a boat to come to my assistance, if you thought a boat could swim. Then, thinks I to myself, a man can die but once, and if it's my turn to-day, why, there's no help for it. Yet I didn't think all the time that I was likely to lose the number of my mess, do ye see, sir. The next thought that came to me was, if I am to drown, it's as well to drown without clothes as with them; and if I get them off, why, there's a better chance of my keeping afloat till a boat can be lowered to pick me up; so I kicked off my shoes, and then I got off my jacket, and then, waiting till I could get hold of the two legs at once, I drew off my trousers in a moment. My shirt was soon off me, but I took care to roll up the tails, so as not to get them over my face. As I rose on the top of the sea, I caught sight of the ship as you wore her round here, and that gave me courage, for I felt I was not to be deserted; indeed, I had no fear of that. Then I knew that there would be no use swimming; so all I did was to throw myself on my back and float till you came up to me. I thought the time was somewhat long, I own. When the ship got back, I saw her hove to away down to leeward, but I did not like to sing out for fear of tiring myself, and thought you would not hear me; and I fancied also that a boat would at once have been lowered to come and look for me. Well, sir, I waited, thinking the time was very long, and hearing no sound, yet still I could see the ship hove to, and you may be sure I did not take my eyes from off her; when at last I heard your voice give the order to wear ship again. Then thinks I to myself, now or never's the time to sing out. And, raising myself as high as I could out of the water, I sang out at the top of my voice. There was a silence on board, but no answer, and I did begin to feel that there was a chance of being lost after all. "Never give in, though," thinks I; so I sung out again, as loud, you may be sure, as I could sing. This time the answering cheers of my shipmates gave me fresh spirits; but still I knew full well that I wasn't safe on board yet. If I had wanted to swim, there was too much sea on to make any way; so I kept floating on my back as before, just keeping an eye to leeward to see if a boat was coming to pick me up. Well, sir, when the boat did come at last, with Mr Christopher and the rest in her, I felt strong and hearty, and was well able to help myself on board. I now can scarcely fancy I was so long in the water.' I was much struck with the extraordinary coolness of Miles. He afterwards had another escape, which was owing less to his own self-possession, though he took it as coolly as the first. On our passage home, the ship was running with a lightish breeze and almost calm sea across the Bay of Biscay, when Miles was sent on the fore-topgallant-yard. By some carelessness he fell completely over the yard, and those aloft expected to see him dashed to pieces on the forecastle. Instead of that, the foresail at that moment swelled out with a sudden breeze, and, striking the bulge of the sail, he was sent forward clear of the bows and hove into the water. A rope was towing overboard. He caught hold of it, and, hauling himself on board, was again aloft within a couple of minutes attending to his duty, which had so suddenly been interrupted. On his arrival in England, Lieutenant Christopher received the honorary silver medal from the Royal Humane Society for his gallant conduct on the occasion of saving Miles' life."

TWO COURAGEOUS SWIMMERS—1838.

HMS Seringapatam, Captain Leith, was lying off the island of Antigua, in August 1838, when, on Sunday, the 26th of that month, eight of her officers, three of whom were youngsters, and all belonging to the midshipmen's berth, with a gentleman, a resident in the island, and two seamen, started away from the ship in a pinnace on a cruise. Their intention was to go down to Falmouth Bay, situated about two miles to leeward of English Harbour, where the ship was, and to beat back. The afternoon was very fine, and everything seemed to promise them a pleasant excursion. Having spent a short time in Falmouth Harbour, they hauled their wind, and made three or four tacks on their way back to the ship. The boat, however, made little or nothing to windward, in consequence of the wind being very light. Forgetful of the sudden squalls which visit those latitudes, the merry party of young officers seemed to have kept but a bad look-out to windward; for, while standing in on the starboard tack, the boat was taken by a sudden squall. The helm was put down; but the boat not coming up to the wind so as to lift the sails, she was capsized under every stitch of canvas. She, however, went over so gradually, that all hands had time to creep to windward and seat themselves on the gunwale. The sails prevented her from turning bottom up, and at the same time protected them in some measure from the breaking of the sea. What seems very extraordinary is, that not one of the party, officers or seamen, had a knife in his pocket, so that they had no means of cutting away the rigging and righting the boat. As soon as they had settled themselves on the side of the boat, they had time to look about them, and to consider their perilous position. They were fully two miles from the shore, whence it was scarcely possible anyone should have observed the accident, and they were an equal distance or more from the ship; thus the current might carry them far away before anyone could come to their assistance. A sea might get up and wash them off the wreck; or sharks might attack and devour them, for the boat's gunwale was only six inches awash. Not a sail was in sight; and all felt convinced that if some unforeseen assistance did not come to their aid, they must perish. Despair was well-nigh taking possession of the bosoms of all the party. Silent and melancholy they sat on the wreck, meditating on their fate. All were young. Life, with all its fancied charms and anticipated pleasure, had a few short moments previously been before them; and now, death in all its terrors—slow, lingering, and agonising—stared them in the face. One only of the whole party was a good swimmer, Mr W.R. Smith, and he was a very bold and strong one. He looked at the shore: two miles was a long distance to swim, with a full consciousness, too, that those deep waters swarm with those terrific monsters of the deep, the seamen's just dread—the hideous, shark. "Well," said Smith at last, looking wistfully at the distant shore, "I feel that I ought to try, as it is the only chance of saving all hands; and I think I could have managed it if I had had but a companion, but it's a long way to go alone through the silent water."

"If that is your only reason, Smith, why, I will try and keep you company," said Palmes, another midshipman, who had hitherto sat silent, not complaining like some of the rest. "I am not much of a swimmer, and I don't feel as if I could ever get to shore. However, it's a good cause, and I'll do my best." Thus it was speedily settled, for there was no time to be lost. The two noble adventurers, having bid farewell to their shipmates, whom Palmes, at all events, never expected to see again, threw off their jackets and shoes, and struck away together from the wreck. The prayers of those they left behind followed them, for the safety of all depended on their success. Smith swam steadily and strongly, and Palmes made amends for his want of strength and skill by his courage and spirit. Still, before they got half-way to the shore, the courage of one of them was to be sorely tried. As Smith swam along, he felt his legs strike against something, and, looking down into the clear water, he saw, to his horror, two enormous sharks swimming past him. As yet they had not noticed him; and fortunate was it for both of the brave fellows that they had kept on their trousers and socks, for had the monsters seen the white flesh of their naked feet, they would to a certainty have fixed on them as their prey. With admirable presence of mind, Smith kept this dreadful fact to himself, lest the knowledge of it should still further unnerve his companion, who already was almost exhausted by his exertions. At this time they were still full a mile from the shore, which, to their anxious eyes, appeared still farther off. "Smith, my dear fellow," exclaimed Palmes, "I can swim no farther. Do you push on, and leave me to my fate."

"Not I, my lad," answered Smith. "Cheer up, man; we'll yet do well. Here, rest on me for a time; but don't cease striking out." Suiting the action to the word, he came alongside and supported his companion; but he did not tell him why he urged him to keep striking out. Again they struck out together, and Palmes seemed somewhat recovered; but once more his strength forsook him, and he fancied himself incapable of proceeding. Still Smith did not lose courage; but he saw the necessity of keeping their limbs moving, lest the dreadful sharks should be tempted to lay hold of them. Palmes had fully as much moral courage as his companion, but he was his inferior in physical strength; yet, feeling that not only his own life and that of Smith, but that of their nine fellow-creatures remaining on the wreck, depended on their reaching the shore, nerved him to further exertions.

Those only who have swam for their lives, when the arms have begun to ache, the knees refuse to bend, and the breath grows short, can tell the feelings of the two gallant young men, but more especially those of the brave Palmes. Spurred on by Smith, each time that he grew faint and weary, he nerved himself for fresh exertions. At last, as they strained their eyes ahead, the shore seemed to come nearer and nearer. They could distinguish the sandy beach and the green herbage beyond. On a sudden, before even he expected it, Smith felt his foot touch the shore. With a joyful exclamation of thankfulness, he grasped Palmes by the hand, and aided him to wade on to the dry land. No sooner had they emerged from the water, than, overcome with fatigue, poor Palmes sank down on the beach, where he lay for some time unable to move. We fain would believe—nay, we are certain—that they both offered up in their hearts a silent thanksgiving to the Great Being who had thus mercifully preserved them from the perils of the deep. But the gallant Smith, while rejoicing in his own preservation and that of his friend, did not forget the shipmates he had left floating on the wreck. As soon as he had recovered sufficient strength to move, he hurried off to the nearest habitation, to give information of the accident, and to procure a boat to go to their assistance. Already much time had been lost. It was half-past four when the accident occurred, and they had been two hours in reaching the shore, so that darkness was now rapidly approaching, which, of course, would increase the difficulty of finding the wreck. The instant Palmes was able to move, he also got up and went in search of a boat. He procured one, with a crew to man it, while Smith took charge of another; and they immediately started in search of their shipmates. Meantime information of the sad accident had been conveyed on board the Seringapatam. The kind heart of the captain was much grieved when he heard of it, for he could not but fear that the remainder of the party had perished. From him, downwards to the smallest boy in the ship, everybody was most painfully anxious about them. He instantly despatched boats in all directions to search for the missing party. All sorts of reports were flying about on board; and as sharks were known to abound, it was feared by the seamen that they might have destroyed their young shipmates. The night also became very bad: the wind rose, and threatened to increase; the sea got up with it, thick clouds collected, and the white-topped waves added to the gloominess of the night, while the rain came down in torrents, and the lightning burst forth in sharp and vivid flashes, increasing the dangers to be apprehended. The boats of the Seringapatam took different directions, each officer commanding shaping the course he thought most likely to bring him up to the wreck. Some of the searching boats went in a wrong direction altogether, being misled by a pilot as to the direction the current took. Hour after hour passed by, and no sign of the wreck was perceived; and both those on board, and many of those in the boats, began to despair of success. As they looked out through the darkness, they fancied they could hear the voices of their shipmates at a distance, imploring aid, or that they saw their figures on the bottom of the boat amid the surrounding gloom. We shall, however, follow the Seringapatam's barge, commanded by her gunner. He knew the set of the current; and, as soon as he shoved off from the ship's side, he ran directly down to leeward along the coast, at the distance he understood the boat had been capsized, he being thus better able to calculate the direction in which she would have drifted. His purpose was then to beat back again, thus entirely covering the ground where the wreck must be. On his way down he fell in with the shore-boat, commanded by Mr Smith, who, at once approving of his plan, joined him in the search. By their calculations, the boat would have drifted some five or six miles to leeward, and would be drawn rather off shore. They were right; and about the very place where they expected, she was discerned still floating as Smith had left her. With anxious hearts they pulled up to her. Five only of the nine were seen still clinging to her. The other four had too probably given themselves up to despair. The crew of the barge cheered, and were answered with a faint hail from those they had come to save, almost sinking from exhaustion. "Where are the rest?" exclaimed Smith, as he saw their diminished numbers. "Only a short distance inshore of us," was the answer. "They have not left the wreck five minutes."

"Alas! but in those five minutes the poor fellows may have sunk fathoms down, or been grasped by the jaws of the hungry sharks," thought Smith, as he instantly pulled away in the direction indicated.

His four shipmates were found not far apart, each of them lashed to an oar, and striking out as well as they could for the shore; but, strange to say, only one of them could swim at all.

It was then past nine o'clock, making nearly five hours that the poor fellows had held on to the boat, with all the horrors of death staring them in the face; for of course they were not aware that Smith and Palmes had reached the shore, and indeed had begun to fear that they were already numbered with the dead. Their pleasure, and—we believe, their gratitude—was increased when they discovered that both had escaped, and had been the means under Providence of preserving their lives.

Their sufferings had been very great. When the storm came on, they expected every moment to be washed from the wreck; and, to add to their horrors, a shark had been for most of the time lying between the masts of the pinnace, his fiery eyes glaring up at them, and watching them, as about soon to become his prey. Had it not, indeed, been for Smith's coolness and skill as a swimmer, and for the generous daring of Palmes, in all human probability every soul must have perished. The circumstances we have narrated having been represented to the Royal Humane Society, the silver medallion of the Society, with a complimentary letter, was sent out, and presented on the quarter-deck of the Seringapatam, by Captain Leith, to each of the two young officers, in the presence of the whole ship's company,—a suitable and gratifying reward for their gallantry, in addition to that their own consciences could not fail to afford.

Some years after the events I have just described, Mr W.R. Smith, having reached the rank of lieutenant, belonged to HMS Endymion. On the 4th of February 1847, she was at anchor off Sacraficios Island, near Vera Cruz. The night of the 4th was excessively dark, and a strong current was running past the ship, when Mr West, mate, slipped his foot from the gangway, and fell into the sea, striking his head against the ship's side. On the cry of "A man overboard!" which was instantly raised, Lieutenant W.R. Smith and others rushed on deck; but, owing to the excessive darkness and the strong current, no object could at first be seen floating. At length something white was perceived at a distance, when Lieutenant Smith immediately plunged into the water, and struck rapidly out towards it. On reaching the object, he found it to be Mr West, who was lying quite motionless, though, from his head sinking under water, he would speedily have been deprived of life. Lieutenant Smith at once raised his head above water, and kept him floating until by repeatedly calling he attracted a boat to his assistance, when he and his companion were carried on board. The crew were thickly clustering on the rigging to see them return, and from among them another man missed his footing and fell overboard from the main-chains. Mr Smith, who saw the accident, not knowing whether the man could swim, instantly plunged in again to his assistance, but found, on reaching him, that he was perfectly able to keep himself afloat till the boat could arrive to pick him up.

RESCUE OF A BOAT'S CREW—JANUARY 1840.

HMS Wolverine formed one of the African squadron, and was commanded by the brave and kind Commander Tucker. She had been cruising off the coast, when, on the 15th of January 1840, she anchored off the river Brass, or Saint John, one of the mouths of the far-famed and mysterious Niger. Captain Tucker had made himself thoroughly acquainted with the coast, as well as with the modes of proceeding of the slave-dealers and of the slavers, and he was thus enabled to capture a very large number of vessels, though, with single-minded purpose, as his object was to stop the slave trade, he endeavoured to take them before they got their slaves on board. Soon after the brig had brought up, about four miles from the shore, Captain Tucker ordered the boats to be hoisted out, and to be fitted for service during an absence of three days. While this work was going forward, a canoe was observed paddling off from the shore towards the ship. On her coming alongside, she was found to contain two natives of great consequence, it seemed, judging from their costume,— that is to say, if scarlet dresses, or rather wrappers round the loins, and ornamented caps, might be admitted as tests of rank. They came up the side without hesitation, and, after some cross-questioning, they informed Captain Tucker that they had seen a fine schooner, under American colours, up the river Nun, and that from her appearance and movements there could be no doubt that she was a slaver. The promise of a reward induced them, with negro eagerness, to undertake all Captain Tucker proposed,—to act as spies, and to bring further information about the vessel, and then to perform the part of pilots in conducting her, when captured, down the river. This information, which it was hoped was correct, hurried the departure of the boats. Lieutenant Dumaresq took charge of the pinnace, as commanding officer of the expedition; Mr Arthur B. Kingston, then a mate, had the cutter; and Mr Thorburn, another mate of the Wolverine, went in the gig. Water, provisions, and arms having been placed in the boats, and all being ready, they shoved off from the ship at half-past ten in the morning. Lieutenant Dumaresq had one of the black pilots in his boat, and Mr Kingston had the other with him. Sometimes sailing when there was a breeze, and at others, when it fell light, the crews, eager for work of some sort, pulling away with a will, they soon reached the mouth of the river Brass. The river is here pretty broad; its banks, as far as the eye can reach, covered with tall mangroves, their dark foliage imparting a sombre and almost funereal aspect to the scenery. After the boats had pulled about ten miles up the Brass, they reached a sort of natural canal which connects the Brass with the Nun. On passing through this, they entered the Nun, when they hove to for dinner,—a meal not at all unwelcome after their long pull. The crews being refreshed, they again bent to their oars, and proceeded about 30 miles up the Nun. Darkness now rapidly came on, and they were no longer able to see ahead, nor had they been able to discover anything of their looked-for prize. On questioning their black volunteer pilots, the worthy gentlemen seemed very uncertain, not only whether the slaver had sailed, but where she had been and where they then were. One declared that they had come much higher up than where she was last seen, and that she had probably been sheltered from their observation in one of the numerous creeks which run through the banks of the river. In this dilemma a council of war was held, and at first it was proposed to retrace their steps, till the elder of the black pilots offered to take a small canoe they had with them higher up the river, to ascertain whether or not the slaver was there. This proposal being agreed to by Lieutenant Dumaresq, the two negroes pulled away, and were soon lost in the darkness, not without some slight misgivings as to whether or not they would ever return. However, to pass the time during the absence of the negroes, they piped to supper. A small portion only of the ship's biscuit and salt pork had been discussed, and a glass of grog had just been served out all round, when the canoe was seen gliding at full speed out of the darkness, the dip of her paddles just breaking the stillness of the night. "Well, my men, any news of the slaver?" asked the lieutenant in an eager whisper, for the return of the canoe gave him hopes that a prize was at hand. "Ship live there," answered the elder black, in the clear and distinct tones in which his race can speak, but still only in a whisper. No sooner was this announcement made than the oars were got out simultaneously, and, at a word from Lieutenant Dumaresq, the boats went ahead like magic. Not a word except the necessary ones of command was uttered. Everyone knew the importance of silence. The three boats, urged on by their eager crews, advanced abreast at full speed. Ten minutes, or little more, were sufficient to show the dark outline of a schooner, her masts and spars relieved against the starry sky. Silent as the grave, the boats pulled on, their oars so carefully dipped, that scarcely a splash was heard. Those on board the schooner slept, or seemed to sleep, for not a sound was heard from her decks. A slaver's crew, however, conscious of the risks they are running in their nefarious traffic, are seldom off their guard, and the British seamen were fully prepared for a reception with a shower of grape and musketry. Yet, without a thought of the consequences, on getting close to her, on they dashed with a cheer, and in another instant were alongside and scrambling up her sides. So unexpected had been their attack, that not an attempt at resistance was made; and, to the no small delight of Lieutenant Dumaresq and his followers, they found themselves in possession of a fine little schooner, which proved to be the Lark, with a crew of no less than thirty Spaniards. They were first all properly secured and sent down below, with orders to behave themselves, and a hint that if they did not, it would be the worse for them.

A slaver's crew have a right, it is understood, to try and retake their vessel without being treated as pirates and hung in case they do not succeed, or are afterwards captured; so it becomes necessary to keep a very sharp look-out after them. Her papers were at the same time secured, and, on her circumstances being investigated, not a doubt remained as to her character.

Bending sails, and getting all ready for an early start, occupied some time, when, the watch being set, with strict orders to keep a wakeful eye on the prisoners, the rest of the party lay down on the sails, and were soon sound asleep.

At early dawn all hands were roused up, and the schooner was very soon got under weigh. There was little or no wind to fill her sails, so the boats' crews had to tow her down the river, hoping to find a breeze, as they got near its mouth, to take her out. Nine miles of their distance had been thus accomplished, when, at about seven o'clock, as she was passing through a long reach of the river Nun, a sail hove in sight, which was soon discovered to be a rakish two-topsail schooner. She stood boldly on up the river towards the barracoons, either not observing the little Lark, or, at all events, not suspecting into whose hands she had fallen. Lieutenant Dumaresq on this instantly ordered the man-of-war boats to be hauled up alongside of the schooner on the opposite side to that on which the stranger was approaching, so that she should not observe them, and, by taking fright, endeavour to make her escape. At the same time, the pinnace and gig were manned and held in readiness (the crews being well armed) to board the schooner, Mr Kingston receiving orders to remain in charge of the Lark with the cutter's crew. On slowly came the stranger, the light wind only just enabling her to stem the current. She seemed totally unconscious of the neighbourhood of her enemies. On a sudden something seemed to awaken her suspicions; and Lieutenant Dumaresq, judging that the best time had arrived for taking possession, shoved off and pulled towards her as fast as the crews could lay their backs to the oars. Mr Kingston meantime was left in command of the Lark, with the cutter's crew; Mr Thorburn accompanied their leader. Away went the boats. The stranger now for the first time was aware of her danger, or rather certainty of capture, unless she could blow the approaching boats out of the water; but she could have had but slight hopes of doing so with any chance of ultimate success, as she saw that the Lark was in the hands of her enemies, and she could not tell how many people might be remaining on board to avenge the destruction of their comrades. Still, slavers, when they have seen a chance of success, have often fought desperately; and the cutter's crew on board the Lark watched with deep interest the approach of the two boats to the big schooner, not knowing what moment she might open her fire on them; but the slaver's crew had not even the brute-like courage to induce them to fight in defence of their accursed calling, and, without firing a shot, they allowed the two boats to come alongside. Once having a firm hold of the slaver's chains with their boat-hooks, the British seamen very quickly scrambled on board. The crew, who were chiefly Spaniards, made no opposition, nor did a number of other people, who, dressed in shore-going clothes, announced themselves as passengers. There was certainly a wonderfully sea-going look about them, though they all seemed very anxious to leave the vessel as fast as possible. Now, as the consequences of detaining people against their will are often very disagreeable, Lieutenant Dumaresq, whatever might have been his suspicions, thought it best to allow the gentlemen to take their departure. It was afterwards discovered that the fellows, who were all of them belonging to the slaver's crew, took on shore a very considerable number of doubloons, which form in general the most valuable portion of a prize, unless she has her cargo of slaves on board; the slave-vessel herself and her stores rarely sell for much. What was called head-money has of late years been reduced to one-fourth of what it was formerly. The new prize proved to be the Asp, a fit name for a slaver, though she was now effectually deprived of her sting. As soon as she was thoroughly overhauled, and all her forthcoming papers secured, the Spanish crew were sent below, and the man-of-war's boats began towing the two schooners down the river. It was laborious work, after the incessant labour for so many hours the men had gone through; but a prize tows easily, and the gallant fellows cheerfully bent to their oars. Thus the two vessels proceeded on rapidly between the mangrove-covered banks of the river. By five p.m. the entrance of the Nun appeared in sight, and preparations were instantly made for crossing the bar,—I must rather say bars, for there are three, one within the other, at some distance apart; and over them, when the current sets out and the wind blows in, the sea breaks with great violence, so that, under those circumstances, the crossing them, even in a decked vessel, is a work of very considerable danger. On this occasion appearances were far from favourable: the wind was foul, and blowing very strong; a heavy sea was breaking over the bars, its incessant roar seeming like a warning not to venture into its power; while evening was rapidly closing in, the coming darkness threatening to increase the difficulties to be encountered. Still Mr Dumaresq was unwilling to expose his followers to the baneful atmospheric influences of another night spent within the mouth of the river, or to the chances of attack from any of the slavers' friends who might be in the neighbourhood, and who would always be ready to win back a prize at any sacrifice of the lives of the captors; though that was a contingency not likely to happen. He was rather influenced, probably, by his anxiety to secure his prizes, and to report his proceedings to his superior officer. The schooners had anchored just inside the inner bar, and all the necessary preparations having been made, and the tide serving, they again got under weigh. Mr Dumaresq led in the Asp, directing Mr Kingston to follow in his wake. This Mr Kingston did, approaching the bar on the starboard tack, the Lark having the cutter towing astern, and her own boat, which could not be hoisted up on account of the tackles being unrove, and a net full of vegetables being worked athwart the davits. Neither could her boat be got on board, on account of the crowded state of the decks. As the Lark drew close to the bar, the appearance of things in no degree mended. Hands were placed in the chains, who kept the lead constantly going; and, as the water shoaled, the schooners had to tack repeatedly, wearing sometimes, as the heavy swell threatened otherwise to prevent their coming round. From the first, Mr Kingston had but little confidence in the black volunteer pilot who had accompanied him on board the Lark; and now, though he urged him by threats to perform the duty he had undertaken, and tried to stimulate him to exertion by reminding him of his promised reward, he only answered, "This is no my bar!" and finally threw himself down on the deck under the bulwarks, refusing to take any further charge of the vessel. It must be remembered that the boats had entered the Niger by the Brass river, the bar of which was his bar, and that he had bargained to act as pilot through its mouth, so that there was ample excuse for the poor wretch; this, however, in no degree lessened the danger of the position in which the little Lark was placed.

It was now perfectly dark and very squally, while nothing was visible to mark the course the vessel should pursue but the phosphorescent light of the breakers stretching across the bar from shore to shore; while to all appearance there seemed to be reef only beyond reef, destruction on which it was scarcely possible the schooner could escape. Though the Lark was pressed to the utmost, the Asp soon distanced her; and though Lieutenant Dumaresq showed lights, they were of little or no use in guiding her course. Squall after squall struck the little schooner; and, as she heeled over, it sometimes appeared that she would never again rise, or be able to beat out through the tremendous surf which came rolling in. At length Mr Kingston judged it wise to shorten sail, which he forthwith did, having set only his mainsail, jib, and fore-and-aft foresail, a fore-trysail. He also sent a good hand on the fore-yard to look out for any break which might happily appear in the white wall of surf which came rolling in over the surrounding shoals. The little Lark had now reached the innermost of the three bars, and was pitching into the seas, which came foaming up and rolling over her decks. She had the cutter towing after her, and astern of that was the schooner's boat. That very soon began to fill, and finally swamped, when it became necessary to cut her adrift. This was done, and she quickly disappeared. At about a quarter to eight a blue light was observed close to windward; and as the Lark was wearing off the heaviest part of the bar, some voices were heard hailing her. It was soon discovered that they proceeded from the pinnace, which had apparently several hands in her. Again they hailed, imploring to be picked up, stating, as far as could be understood, that they had broken adrift from astern of the Asp, with the gig, which was lost; and from the words which reached the Lark, Mr Kingston was very much afraid that several lives were already sacrificed, while it seemed too probable that those in the pinnace would share the same fate, unless he could manage to get near them to take them on board. There was not a moment to spare. The pinnace, it must be understood, was inside the Lark, higher up the river, the Lark having passed her after she had broken adrift from the Asp. In another minute she would have drifted among the breakers, when the destruction of all on board would be sealed. To pick her up under weigh was almost impossible; and, with the tide and heavy sea, the schooner could not be steered with any degree of certainty even near her; and could even this be done, the probabilities were that she would be swamped before the men could be got out of her. The young officer therefore saw that but one course only was open for him to pursue with any chance of success, and that involved immense risk both to the vessel and his people. To think is to act with a British seaman in a case of emergency. He saw that to intercept the boat he must anchor; and, having both anchors clear, and a hand by the weather one all along, he ordered it to be let go, though he had but two fathoms at the time under the vessel's keel, while the surf from the second bar was curling up round the vessel's sides, threatening to make a clear sweep of her decks. His order to let go was perhaps not understood, or the Spanish crew, some thirty in number, seeing what was about to be done, and expecting instant destruction in consequence, endeavoured to impede it; at all events, he had to rush forward and cut the stoppers with an axe, which he luckily had at hand.

The schooner brought up all standing, the sea at the same instant making a terrific breach over her; but the helmsman was a good hand, and sheered her over to the exact spot the pinnace must pass. The whole was the work of a moment. The boat drifted near, a rope was hove into her, and providentially caught by the nearly exhausted crew. She was hauled alongside, her people being got out, while some fresh hands went down into her and secured her with her own cable and the end of the schooner's main-sheet. At the same time the schooner's fore-sheet was passed into the cutter as a preventer. Four men were saved from the pinnace. They stated that she and the gig had been towing astern of the Asp, with two hands in each, when, on crossing the inner bar, they both broke adrift together. Instead, however, of the two men in the pinnace getting into the gig, which they might have managed, those in the smaller got into the larger boat, fancying they would be safer, when they found themselves totally unable to pull her against the tide, or to guide her to shore. The Lark very soon after this began to drive, when the other anchor was dropped under foot, while they veered away on the larboard cable. She now held, but the breakers made a clean breach over her decks, washing adrift the numerous casks, loose spars, fowl-coops, and a variety of other things; and in addition, what was worse than all, a large scuttle-butt of palm-oil. Meantime, to increase the confusion and danger, the cutter and pinnace were striking the stern and quarters of the vessel with great force, often coming as far forward as the main-chains on both sides. The Spaniards had from the first been very unruly, and they now gave symptoms of an intention of breaking into open mutiny. In addition, therefore, to the variety of other duties the British seamen were called on to perform, it became necessary for them to keep their arms in readiness, to repel any sudden attack the fellows might venture to make on them for the purpose of regaining the schooner. The palm-oil, also, which is like very thick red mud, had coated the whole deck from before the foremast nearly as far aft as the mainmast, making it more slippery even than ice, so that no one could either stand or walk on it. The water, also, had no effect on its greasy composition, and as there were no ashes on board to strew over it, one part of the deck became almost separated from the other. The Spaniards were evidently watching their opportunity, and kept eyeing the British seamen with no friendly intentions. They were four to one of them, and though deprived of their muskets and cutlasses, they had still the long knives in their belts, without which no Spaniard ever thinks his costume complete. The wretches kept up such a hubbub, and did so much to impede the work of the vessel, that some of them very nearly got shot, as a hint to the rest of what they might expect if they proceeded to extremities. The gallant young officer himself had little fear of what they might venture to do, as, considering the dilemma the vessel was placed in, surrounded by shoals, with heavy breakers close at hand, and in thick darkness, they could scarcely hope to get out to sea and escape that way, or, if they returned up the river, to avoid recapture should they regain possession of the vessel. In obedience, however, to his written instructions, he kept some of his people under arms to watch the fellows. For full half an hour the little schooner lay in this way, it being expected every instant that her anchors would part, when a roller, more severe even than the others, threw the cutter on board on the larboard quarter, breaking the bunk adrift and capsizing it. As the vessel rose again, the boat fell aft and immediately filled, when she was of necessity cut adrift to prevent her doing more damage; and as soon as this was done she sank. Shortly after this the squalls began to become less frequent, and the breakers moderated gradually; an opening, also, was seen in the line of sparkling foam from the fore-yard; so Mr Kingston resolved to make sail and to get out of the river. He contrived to weigh the starboard or lee anchor, after very many fruitless attempts to do so on account of the heavy surges; but as it was found impossible to purchase the weather one, it was slipped, and the schooner wore round under her jib in a quarter less two fathoms. A sharp-sighted seaman stood on the fore-yard, from whence he conned the vessel,—the lead kept going as before. The mainsail was then set, and the schooner stood out towards the opening which appeared in the surf. She obeyed her helm readily, the rocks and shoals were avoided, and at length the outer bar was safely passed. At about ten p.m. she came up with the Asp, anchored a short distance outside. Lieutenant Dumaresq stood with speaking-trumpet in hand, and hailed the Lark. "I'm glad you've got out safe; but I fear four of my poor fellows are lost, and our two boats."

"They're safe on board, and I have your boat in tow," was the answer. A loud congratulatory cheer from the British seamen on board the Asp signified their satisfaction at the success of Mr Kingston's gallant exploit. He then anchored, and, going on board the Asp, was further thanked and congratulated by his superior officer; who had not only given up all hopes of the people in the pinnace and gig having escaped, but of the Lark herself, as his own vessel had had a most perilous passage across the bars. She had struck three times, in one of which shocks the boats had broken adrift. The two schooners again weighed and ran down to the Wolverine, lying off the Brass, ten miles distant. On their arrival, Mr Kingston had the satisfaction of receiving the warmest approval of his excellent commander for the gallantry and judgment he had displayed. The vessels were afterwards sent to Sierra Leone, where they were condemned and cut up.

Mr Kingston having taken the Lark schooner to Sierra Leone, where she was condemned, was appointed to HMS Saracen, which soon afterwards arrived there. From that place the Saracen sailed for the river Gambia, soon after the 2nd of March.

On the evening of the 13th of the same month, while on her passage there, when it was blowing fresh, with a heavy cross sea, a lad aged nineteen, named John Plunket, fell overboard from the main-topgallant-yard. In falling he struck against the topsail-yard and the sweeps stowed on the quarter, and was bleeding at the mouth and almost senseless when he reached the water. The lad could not swim, and his death seemed inevitable; when Mr Kingston, who was on the quarter-deck, without a moment's hesitation sprang overboard, exclaiming to his commander as he ran aft, "Send a boat as quick as you can, sir— I'll save him." He struck out bravely towards the poor lad, but before he could reach him he sank. A cry of horror arose from all on board, for they thought the lad was lost, though every exertion was made to get a boat in the water to pick up Mr Kingston. Plunket, however, again rose, and Mr Kingston grasping hold of him, supported him above water, though with much difficulty, as the lad, who bled profusely from the mouth and nostrils, convulsively clung round him, and almost dragged him down to the bottom. Fortunately, he released himself from the clutch of the now senseless youth, and continued to support him by swimming and treading water. For fear of exhaustion, he afterwards threw himself on his back, and, placing the head of his almost inanimate shipmate on his chest, he kept him up for a quarter of an hour, till a boat reached them and took them on board.

On another occasion, while on the coast of Africa, in a spot where sharks were known to abound, Mr Kingston leaped overboard after another lad who had fallen into the water. Fortunately the life-buoy was let go at the same time, and, wisely catching hold of it, he towed it up to the sinking youth, and providentially preserved his life.



CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

GALLANT DEEDS.

HUMANITY OF LIEUTENANT BREEN, RN—MEDITERRANEAN, 1850.

That the seamen of the British navy are as humane as they are brave we have numberless examples to prove. The following is one of numerous instances in which they have risked and often sacrificed their lives for the good of others, and should on no account be passed over.

As one of the boats of HMS Ganges, forming part of the British fleet in the Piraeus, with Lieutentant Breen, Mr Chatfield, midshipman, and 16 men, was returning from the shore, laden with water, she was swamped and turned over just half-way between the Queen and the east point of the island of Lypso.

Mr Breen, Mr Chatfield, and most of the men, immediately struck out for the island, and reached it. The gale increased, and the cold became so intense that their clothes were frozen stiff upon them. In the morning they could see the fleet, but were unable to draw attention to themselves by the signals they were making. One of the men suffered so much from the cold that Lieutenant Breen generously stripped off his coat and put it on him. As the day closed, most of the men retired into a cave; but Mr Breen separated himself from the others, and was no more seen. On board the Ganges it was thought that they had not put off from shore; but next night it was known that they had set out, and a boat was sent to search. As she was passing by Lypso at dawn on the third day, the wrecked boat was accidentally descried on the beach. Mr Chatfield and half a dozen men were found in the cave in a torpid state; Mr Breen was found dead, crouched under a bush, and ten seamen were missing. There is little doubt that poor Mr Breen lost his life from his generous act in favour of the suffering seamen. The survivors found in the cave all recovered.