In this and following chapters, we will ask the reader to accompany us in imagination round the world, on board a ship of the Royal Navy, visiting en route the principal British naval stations and possessions, and a few of those friendly foreign ports which, as on the Pacific station, stand in lieu of them. We cannot do better than commence with the Mediterranean, to which the young sailor will, in all probability, be sent for a cruise after he has been thoroughly “broken in” to the mysteries of life on board ship, and where he has an opportunity of visiting many ports of ancient renown and of great historical interest.
The modern title applied to the sea “between the lands” is not that of the ancients, nor indeed that of some peoples now. The Greeks had no special name for it. Herodotus calls it “this sea;” and Strabo the “sea within the columns,” that is, within Calpe and Abyla—the fabled pillars of Hercules—to-day represented by Gibraltar and Ceuta. The Romans called it variously Mare Internum and Mare Nostrum, while the Arabians termed it Bahr Rüm—the Roman Sea. The modern Greeks call it Aspri Thalassa—the White Sea; it might as appropriately be called blue, that being its general colour, or green, as in the Adriatic, or purple, as at its eastern end: but they use it to distinguish it from the “Sea of Storms”—the Black Sea. The Straits—“the Gate of the Narrow Passage,” as the Arabians poetically describe it, or the Gut, as it is termed by our prosaic sailors and pilots—is the narrow portal to a great inland sea with an area of 800,000 miles, whose shores are as varied in character as are the peoples who own them. The Mediterranean is salter than the ocean, in spite of the great rivers which enter it—the Rhone, Po, Ebro, and Nile—and the innumerable smaller streams and torrents.[69] It has other physical and special characteristics, to be hereafter considered.
The political and social events which have been mingled with its history are interwoven with those of almost every people on the face of the globe. We shall see how much our own has been shaped and involved. It was with the memory of the glorious deeds of British seamen and soldiers that Browning wrote, when sailing through the Straits:—
“Nobly, nobly, Cape St. Vincent to the north-west died away;
Sunset ran, one glorious blood-red, reeking into Cadiz Bay;
Bluish, ’mid the burning water, full in face Trafalgar lay;
In the dimmest north-east distance dawned Gibraltar, grand and gray;
‘Here, and here, did England help me—how can I help England?’—say
Whoso turns as I, this evening, turns to God to praise and pray,
While Jove’s planet rises yonder, silent over Africa.”