In December, 1891, the second annual regatta of the Mediterranean Fleet was held in Marmorice Bay. In the officers' race, I pulled stroke in the galley of the Undaunted, in spite of Sir George Tryon's kindly warning that my heart would give way. We beat the Australia's boat by about two seconds. In the next race, held the following year, the Australia beat us.
There were seventeen ships on the station, and 9000 men. The Undaunted won 22 prizes (12 of them, I think, first prizes) out of 29. All her ratings were regularly practised in all her boats, each boat racing against the other. In order to equalise chances, the boats started in rotation, the time allowance being given at the start, instead of being calculated at the end as in yacht racing, so that the boat first across the line at the end of the course won the race. The launch, being the heaviest boat, started last, manned with four men to the midship oars, three men to the after oars, and two men to the foremost oars. The boats would often all come in together. The enthusiasm of the men was immense. At that time the island of Crete was in a state of chronic agitation, which culminated in the troubles of 1897, and their suppression by the Council of Admirals, of which Admiral Sir Robert H. Harris, who represented Great Britain with so great ability and resource, gives an excellent account in his book, From Naval Cadet to Admiral. In the meantime, Christians and Mohammedans were joyfully shooting one another, while the Turkish garrison endeavoured to keep order by shooting both parties impartially. Riding up from Suda Bay to call upon a certain distinguished Turkish Pasha, an old friend, I passed several corpses, both of Christians and Mohammedans, lying on the roadside.
"Cannot you stop these murders?" I said to the Pasha. "It is really very distressing to see so many dead bodies."
"Yes, Lord," said the Pasha (he always called me Lord). "Very sad, Lord. I am sure you must feel it very much, Lord. It must make you think you are back in your own country."
The retort was apposite enough, for moonlighting was then the joy of Ireland.
Not that the Turkish soldiers neglected musketry practice. Riding up to Canea, I was met by bullets whistling past my head. I pulled off the road, and was joined by an old Turk, who was riding a donkey and carrying a large white umbrella. Presently we perceived a pot placed in the middle of the highway, and then we came upon a party of Turkish soldiers lying in a row and firing at it; whereupon the aged Turk climbed from his donkey, rolled up his umbrella, and belaboured the soldiers with it.
I once asked my friend the Pasha why he had not ere then been promoted.
"I do not know, Lord. The Government does not know. God Almighty does not know. Even his Imperial Majesty the Sultan does not know!" quoth the Pasha.
The Undaunted visited Sorrento in 1891, when Lord Dufferin was staying there. None who had the privilege of his acquaintance will need to be reminded of the singular charm of a talented, witty and urbane personality. Lord Dufferin had the unconscious art of impressing upon those whom he met that he had been waiting all his life for that moment. The small sailing yacht, Lady Hermione, which he kept at Sorrento, was a marvel of ingenious contrivance. She was a decked boat, with a well into which the ropes and gear were led and were attached to all sorts of levers, tackles and winches, to enable her to be sailed single-handed. Lord Dufferin, accompanied by Lady Dufferin, frequently sailed her in the Bay of Naples. On one such voyage, wishing to tauten up the peak halliards, he told Lady Dufferin to heave upon a certain lever. She seized the wrong handle, and away went the anchor with 130 fathoms of chain, which ran out to the clinch. Then the rest of the equipment became really useful, Lord Dufferin rigging up purchase on purchase with it, and so heaving up the anchor. After four hours' incessant toil he succeeded in getting it berthed, and returned in a state of exhaustion.