security of an ironclad. His heart quailed beneath his Commander's uniform.

However, setting his teeth and consoling himself with the thought that she
would undoubtedly fall to pieces before they could leave the harbour
behind, he went aboard.

The master, an unprepossessing but exceedingly polite child of the AEgean,
was overwhelmed at the prospect of carrying a British Naval Commander as
passenger. He saluted wildly; he gesticulated; it was too much honour.
Would his Excellency the Commander accept the use of his poor state-room--
yes? Would he undertake the navigation of this so dangerous voyage--no? Ah,
but he would seek his so expert advice in the sudden perilous moment--good.
Reginald bowed nervously.

At first all went well. Except for the atmosphere of the state-room, which
was richly tinged with a mixed odour of mildewed figs and rotten
pomegranates, and the uncomfortable feeling that, unless he trod
delicately, the decks would crumble away and deposit him in the bosom of
the Mediterranean, Reginald was fairly happy. A ready wit and a dignified
bearing combined to cloak his lack of seamanship and kept the skipper in a
fit state of humility and awe.

But in the Gulf of Lyons a breeze sprang up. It was quite a gentle breeze
at first, and Reginald found it rather stimulating. Towards evening,
however, it freshened, and the ship began to stagger. Reginald became
conscious of those disquieting symptoms common to landsmen in such case.
Fearful for his reputation he crept below to suffer in solitude.

By midnight it was blowing a gale, and Reginald had lost interest in life.
He was thinking mournfully of the vanity of all human desires when a
message was brought from the captain. They were about to perish. Would his
Excellency the Commander come up to the bridge and save them, please?

It was a painful predicament, and Reginald was justly horrified. Could he
venture out and display the weakness of the British Navy in the face of a
crew of unwashed Greek matelots? On the other hand, could he skulk in his
cabin and allow the Master to doubt his courage and resource? He rose and
lurched unsteadily on deck.

The Captain was distinctly excited. Destruction was imminent. He had
appealed to the Saints without avail. Would the British Commander come to
their assistance? What did his Excellency think of it?

Reginald thought it was perfectly horrible. He had never thought such a
ghastly scene possible. The ship appear