Unfortunately, the Pasha of Rhodes had left in a Turkish gun-boat bound for Smyrna, and, on calling in at the island of Symi en route, heard from the natives of that island that a caique, apparently a pirate, had been seen becalmed off the north-west point of the island the day before. This was a fine chance for the Pasha. As it was calm weather, he sallied forth in a north-westerly direction, and, to his delight, saw the caique in the offing. Guns were loaded; shots were fired across the caique’s bows; and he ran his gun-boat alongside. Up went the English Ensign, which poor Turk naturally thought most improper, seeing a Greek boat and a Greek crew on deck. To cut my story short: They were boarded, taken prisoners, and thumb-screwed. No power on earth, for a long time, could dissuade the old Turk from his way of thinking. So the caique was taken in tow, and a return journey made to Rhodes, where all on board seemed like to be thrown into a dungeon. Luckily, there happened to be in their gun-boat a Scotch engineer who, on being called up, soon discovered who everybody was, and explained the ruse. The poor old Pasha would even then not have it for a long time, and kept them prisoners for the day; and when he had to release them, was furious at having been taken in himself.
As soon as the Foxhound returned from her cruise, all this, of course, was reported; and Hobart, not being a man to allow the British Flag to be trifled with, rushed off in chase of the unfortunate Pasha, caught him entering Smyrna Bay, fired a shot across his bows, hove him to, boarded him, gave him an hour to return all the officers’ and men’s effects that had been bagged, pay a sovereign apiece to all the English crew, and salute the British Flag with twenty-one guns—or be blown out of the water. Poor Turk, it is needless to say, did what he was told. The incident found its way to our Ambassador at Constantinople, and there was nearly a big shindy.
The Raleigh anchored in Simon’s Bay on arrival at the Cape; and we remained there a few days, refitting and putting matters in order. During a fresh gale we dragged our anchor and parted our cable; but no harm was done, though we drifted rather near the only rocky part of the Bay. All the officers who could be spared went up to Cape Town. There being no railroad, we drove or rode all the way.
The second night of our stay at the hotel, the middies took it into their heads to entertain the Commodore at dinner. That pleased him very much, and we had a very cheerful evening. After he left, it being necessary to pay our bill, the head waiter, a gray-headed old Kaffir, was sent for. On producing the bill he was much abused for its proportions, and was told that if he could not get it reduced there would be a bad look-out for him. The poor creature reappeared shortly, looking miserable, and told us that nothing could be done. Forthwith he was hauled over the end of the table, and cobbed, we tying knots in our napkins and inflicting chastisement on the spot. Poor devil: he yelled sorely; but we had no intention to hurt him, and did not do so.
CHAPTER XI
WAR WITH CHINA DECLARED
After leaving the Cape we steered a southerly course for some days, so as to get hold of the south-east trade winds, which took us north to the line, making a poor passage of it; but from the line to Penang, by the north end of Sumatra, we made a tedious voyage. We were becalmed near the line for several days, in the doldrums. There was no dependence on a breeze when it sprang up. It was generally accompanied by strong wet squalls, which blew hard for a short time from all directions, and left you again in a hot calm. One hour the ship was under all possible sail; the next, perhaps, everything was in except the topsails, and they were lowered at times. It was dreary work. Worse: the sails were often flapping about for two or three days, in a bit of a swell, with only the faintest of airs to move you along. We did not anchor at Penang until the fiftieth day out from the Cape. For six weeks we had been out of sight of land.
I shall never forget the charm of first scenting the spice islands and the tropical vegetation, long before land was in sight. These delicious flavours came off many miles to sea, and the scented airs were very pleasant after so long a voyage. I was up aloft, as usual, one morning at six o’clock. There was no land in sight, though I could smell it distinctly; and we must have been from 60 to 80 miles from the nearest coast of Acheen Head, the north-west end of Sumatra. We had met scarce a sail during this cruise, and we were glad to arrive and anchor. There was something particularly refreshing in putting foot ashore after being cooped up on board, surrounded with nothing but sky and salt water. (We had become rather short of water, and our allowance had had to be reduced.) When you first land, legs and feet feel rather cramped, and one’s body is sadly out of condition, even at the happy age of sixteen.
At Penang, where we first touched, we heard that war with China was imminent. Our stay, therefore, was cut very short. We stopped only long enough to get in water and fresh provisions. Our next point was Singapore; and getting through the Straits of Malacca took some doing in a sailing vessel. Keppel was in his glory at the prospect of having a crack at John Chinamen and again seeing active service. So it can be imagined how we carried on all the way to Singapore. Squalls or no squalls, the ship had to put her best foot forward; and, as at that season the Straits are celebrated for violent squalls, we knew what was in store, for Keppel must get to Hong-Kong in time to be in the fray.