When all this was settled, I sent back the bulk of the squadron to Cadiz to revictual, and get ready to recommence operations, if necessary.  During the whole of this campaign the only staff I had to help me to direct sailing and fighting operations, and above all to supply a naval force numbering seventeen sail, not reckoning my disembarkation craft, with food, coal, and munitions of war, was one first lieutenant, who acted as chief of the staff, aide-de-camp, &c., one second class cadet to go messages and keep the look out, and the purser of my own ship, the Suffren.

It is true all these were first-rate men.  The two officers have both become admirals—­one is Admiral Touchard and the other Admiral Pierre.  The purser’s name was Roumo.  I merely mention this detail because, with the present mania for large staffs, things would be less simply managed nowadays.  I should like to add that I found my best assistance in the goodwill, pluck, intelligence, and devotion to their country’s interests invariably shown by everybody, without distinction of rank.  In short, the behaviour of the naval force I had the honour of commanding was even better than I could have expected of it.  The service still bears the same good character, and will continue to bear it so long as no one lays a sacrilegious hand on an organisation the value of which has been thoroughly tested, and which now rests on long and splendid traditions.

But one misfortune befell us.  The Groenland, a large transport, was wrecked some way south of Larrache.  By some miscalculation or other she ran aground, going nine knots an hour, at high water, on a spring tide, at the foot of a cliff as high as those of the English Channel.  When the fog cleared, some Arabs, very few fortunately, on the top of the rocks, saw her, and poured their fire into her with perfect impunity.

One of our despatch-boats, the Vedette, becoming aware of the catastrophe, hurried to the trooper’s assistance; but she was almost powerless, her engines not being strong enough to tow off a big ship stranded in such a deplorable position.  The shots fired from below at the Arabs on the summit of the cliff only attracted more of them to the spot.  But at all events they were useful in so far as they made me aware of the disaster.

I was passing by, out at sea, on board the Pluton, on my way to Cadiz, when the sound of the guns, which was very unexpected thereabouts, attracted my attention, and steering towards the noise I soon caught sight of the unlucky Greenland lying close ashore, while the rifle-shots flashed from the top of the cliff.  It was just getting dark when I reached the spot.  I boarded the ship at once, no easy matter, for a heavy surf was breaking on her stern, the only part of her which was at all accessible.  But they threw me a rope and hoisted me on board.