Shortly after my installation as vice-admiral in the Turkish navy, it was decided that I should be sent to Crete to put a stop to the blockade-running.  ‘Set a thief to catch a thief,’ as one of my, what may be called, unfriendly critics has written about me, and the remark was ben trovato at all events, for I certainly did know something about blockade-running.

I accordingly hoisted my flag in a fine fifty-gun wooden frigate, and arrived at Suda Bay, the principal port of Crete, where six or seven Turkish men-of-war were stationed, of which I took command.  Here I heard all the naval officers had to say about the blockade, the impunity with which it was carried on, &c.  I found, as I before mentioned, that the Turkish naval officers’ hands were tied by all sorts of imaginary difficulties.  They had most zealously done their duty while trying to stop the blockade-running.  They had shown great pluck and endurance, but they always feared to break the law and so get the ever-bullied Turkish Government into trouble.  Here I also heard of the triumphant manner in which the blockade-runners left the ports of Greece.  How the Mayors of Syra, Poros, and other Greek towns, conducted, with flags flying, bands playing, and the hurrahs of the entire population, the hitherto triumphant blockade-running captains and crews to their ships, on the way to feed the flame of revolt against a nation with whom the Greeks professed to be on most friendly terms.

I heard all this, and was moreover told that if the blockade-running was stopped, the insurgents in Crete would at once lay down their arms for want of food and warlike stores.

I determined to stop it at all risks.

Picking out of my squadron a couple of fast despatch boats and a quick steaming corvette to accompany my flag-ship, I started on a cruise, and once out of sight of the harbour of Suda, steamed straight for Syra.  Now this port had been the principal delinquent in fitting out and sending blockade-runners to Crete; so I thought that by going as it were to the starting-point, I should be somewhat nearer to my quarry than by waiting for them in Crete.  Circumstances favoured me in the most marvellous manner.  As morning broke the day after I left Suda, I was about eight miles from Syra harbour, steaming slowly, when I saw what made my heart leap into my mouth, viz., a regular blockade-runner exactly of the type used in the American war, going at full speed for Syra harbour.

He was outside my little squadron, and must pass within a mile or so ahead to get to his port.