The unlucky officer in command, Captain Besson, had done everything in his power after the vessel had gone ashore.  He had laid out anchors, lightened the ship, and cut down her masts and spars.  Then, in the pluckiest way, he had tried to go about, under the full fire of the Arabs.  Fourteen of his men had been killed or wounded at the capstan bars.  But the cables gave way, and the only result of lightening the ship was that the swell carried her closer in shore.  I went down to the engine-room, which was full of water.  It was clear to my mind that her side was stove in.  It was out of the question to make any attempt to float such a large vessel—­a difficult enough job on a friendly coast—­ under the rifle-fire of the thousands of Arabs who were sure to gather on the cliff at daybreak.

If the sea rose, the ship would not only go to pieces, but it would be impossible to rescue her passengers and crew.  I therefore settled to proceed at once to the removal of the wounded, in the first place, and then of the rest of the soldiers and sailors on board.  This was carried out without any accident.  Captain Besson was the last man to leave his ship, having first, at my request, set her on fire, so as to leave nothing in the way of a trophy in the enemy’s hands.

On my arrival at Cadiz, besides letters from the Minister for Naval Affairs, Admiral de Mackau, signifying the approval of his Majesty’s Government of what I had done, I found one from General Bugeaud (who had been created a marshal), in which he said: 

I have just received your despatch of lyth August, which has caused me the greatest joy.  In spite of the great distance between them, the harmony between our military and naval operations has been complete The Moorish army was defeated on the 14th, and Mogador was shelled and captured on the 15th.

Between the two victories, the Princesse de Joinville has made you a happy father.  It seems to me that the young Princess ought certainly to receive the name of Victoria.

I am very happy to assure you that you cannot be more pleased with your fleet than the army is with both it and you.

I was busy revictualling and refitting, and reorganising my squadron, when M. de Martino sent word that Muley Abdurrahman was sueing for peace, and had given Sidi Bousselam full powers for the purpose.

There was a regular congress of diplomats at Cadiz.  M. Guizot had associated young Decazes—­known to all the world in later days as Marshal MacMahon’s Foreign Minister—­with M. de Nion, our decharge d’affaires at Tangier.  And then, behind the diplomatic curtain, there was the British Minister in Spain, Mr. Bulwer, who took the deepest interest in our proceedings, and like his chief, Lord Aberdeen, sincerely desired to see the Morocco question dead and buried.  Everybody was eager to draw up protocols.  But I thought it much better to let ourselves be pressed a little, and make the Moors feel a little keener