It was late when I folded this letter, about the surprising effects of which I have yet to speak.

 

Having been very much overwrought in the hospitals that day, I flung myself on my bed and fell into a sound sleep, having previously cautioned my assistant, who occupied a couch opposite mine, not to disturb me except in a case of necessity.

 

It could not have been long afterwards when I was awakened by him violently, and told that a telegram had just arrived summoning me home! I sprang up and read it anxiously. There was no explanation. The telegram was simple but urgent. My mother, my sister, Nicholas, illness, death, disaster of some sort, filled my mind as I huddled on my clothes and made hurried preparations to obey the summons. Of course no inquiries could be made. The telegram was peremptory. I crushed a few things into a portmanteau, and, obtaining permission, left the hospital without a moment’s delay.

 

The distance to the coast was considerable, but I had ample means, and found no difficulties in the way. It is always so in this life—at least in regard to ordinary things—when one possesses unlimited means.

 

Now I must pause at this point, and beg the reader to bear with me while I relate a few things that may appear at first sight overdrawn. Let judgment be suspended until all has been told.

 

There was no difficulty whatever, I repeat, in reaching Varna. From thence to Constantinople was merely a matter of a few hours’ in an ordinary steamer. My personal acquaintance with several European ambassadors enabled me to pass the lines and travel in the enemy’s country without obstruction or delay. My position as occasional war-correspondent of the Scottish Bawbee would have procured me interviews with many celebrities, but anxiety prevented my taking advantage of this.

 

In process of time I arrived at Besika Bay, and here I found the British fleet at anchor. Of course I had been aware of its presence there, and felt some pleasure in contemplating a visit to some of the ships, in several of which I had friends. It was with great surprise that I found the Thunderer among the war-ships assembled in the Bay. I had never heard of her having left England, though I had been told that her sister-ship the Devastation was at Besika.

 

Remembering the injunction of my friend Biquitous, I went on board the Thunderer, and was hospitably received by the captain. He had only time, however, to shake hands and beg me to make myself at home. There was obviously something of importance about to happen, for great activity prevailed among officers and men. It seemed to my untutored eye as if they were getting up steam and preparing for some sort of expedition. The captain did not invite me to accompany them; nevertheless I went. It was not long before the object of the expedition was revealed. A monster Russian ironclad, it was said, lay somewhere “outside.” We were sent to observe her. In the evening we sighted her. There was another Russian war-ship—a frigate—close to her. The ironclad was similar to ourselves: a long low hull—a couple of turrets with a central “flying” structure or “hurricane-deck.” We made straight towards her. The bugle sounded and the crew was called to quarters.

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