I used to gallop in between General Oudinot’s camp and Garibaldi’s headquarters, having on my arm a red scarf for a sign that I was not a belligerent.  My scarf was not much use, however, as I was generally fired at all the time that I was passing the space between the French camp and Garibaldi’s headquarters in Rome.

I was amused by the audacity with which Garibaldi resisted the French army.  I fancy he wanted to delay matters so that the Pope should be induced to take the ill-advised step of leaving Rome, and in this the republican general succeeded.  What went on in Rome, the way in which the Pope escaped, &c., I am not able to relate.  All I know is that one fine morning a simple carriage arrived from Rome at Civita Vecchia, bringing a portly individual enveloped in the large cloak of an English coachman, and another man in ordinary apparel.  They strolled down to the place of embarkation, and went quietly on board, not (as was expected) the English man-of-war, but a French vessel-of-war which was lying with her steam up.

This vessel then left the harbour, almost unnoticed, and it was not for hours afterwards that we heard that His Holiness Pius IX. was the humble-looking person who had embarked before our eyes, and thus got away safely to Gaeta.

CHAPTER IX.

IN THE BALTIC.

In 1854 the war (commonly called the Crimean war) broke out, and I was appointed first lieutenant of H.M.S.——­ for service in the Baltic.

I shall never forget the excitement among us all when, after so many years of inactivity, we were called upon to defend the honour of our country.  Unfortunately for old England the Baltic fleet was put under the command of Sir C. N——­, ‘fighting old Charley’ as he was called, though it was not long before we discovered that there was not much fight left in him.  It might well be said by those generously inclined towards him, in the words of the old song, that the

’Bullets and the gout
Had so knocked his hull about,
That he’d never more be fit for sea.’

A finer fleet never sailed or steamed from Spithead than that destined for the Baltic in 1854.  The signal from its commander, ’Lads, war is declared!  Sharpen your cutlasses and the day’s your own,’ sent a thrill of joy through every breast.  After following the melting ice up the Baltic Sea to within almost reach of the guns of Cronstadt, we waited till the ice had disappeared, and then went in as we thought for the attack.

The ship to which I belonged being a steamer, and drawing much less water than the line-of-battle ships, led the way.  A grander sight could not be conceived than that of twenty splendid line-of-battle ships, formed in two lines, steaming straight up to the frowning batteries of Cronstadt.  On our approaching the batteries a shot was fired, and fell alongside the ship I was in, which, as I said, was leading for the purpose of sounding, when, to our astonishment and disgust, the signal was made from the flag-ship to the fleet ‘Stop!’ and immediately afterwards to ‘anchor.’