I told my friends, the Englishmen, about that little ’accident’ down at El Castellar with our 9.2, and they were highly amused—everything seemed to amuse them that day. A most cheery lot they were, and when I wished them good-bye, before getting into my boat, and asked them what they actually had done with the hydraulic machinery I had brought them, they were more amused than ever, and I left them enjoying some little joke they had. Old ’Spats’ sent me a wireless signal from the _Hercules_ next day to tell me that _La Buena Presidente_, flying the black and green flag, had put into Madeira to coal, but had been refused permission. If that was the case, she’d have a good deal of trouble to arrange for colliers to meet her at sea, and it might be many weeks before she arrived here. Things went along remarkably peaceably for the next few days, my two doctors were up to their necks in work ashore, and hardly had time to come aboard and ask after my gout, and we heard that Gerald Wilson had driven Zorilla and his army into El Castellar and was investing it. Then, one fine morning, along came the whole of the Santa Cruz fleet, cruisers, gunboats, and torpedo-boats, escorting half-a-dozen tramp-steamers filled with troops. They anchored close to El Castellar—we could see their smoke plainly enough—and began firing—shelling Wilson’s trenches, we presumed. Of course we all thought they’d do the natural thing—land their troops there, drive off the insurgents, join hands with all that was left of Zorilla’s army—about two thousand infantry—and come marching along the seashore under cover of the ships’ guns. This was evidently what Wilson’s brother thought, for we could see his people streaming out from San Fernando, along the road to Marina, towards El Castellan. Well, I suppose I’m a bit of a fool, but when I was a youngster I should have been mad to have missed anything like that, so I sent for the Commander, and told him he could give leave to the mids. and as many of the officers as he could spare. Most of them were already crowding on the fore bridge and up in the fore fire-control position, trying to see the Santa Cruz ships through their telescopes, but they clambered down in a twinkling, and cleared ashore in less than half an hour. ’Don’t get into mischief or there’ll be the dickens to pay,’ I sang out to them, and, of course, immediately afterwards regretted letting them go. They had been gone about two hours, and we’d seen them driving or walking out towards El Castellar, when the firing ceased, and it was reported to me that the fleet and transports were standing towards us. I went along to my spare cabin, which I had given up to fat little Navarro (Zorilla’s A.D.C.) whilst he was aboard, with his broken thigh, and told him what was happening. He was very excited, and craned his neck out of his scuttle to see the advancing ships.