The French would gladly have aided the Egyptians for the sake of gaining a footing in the country, but as they were not ready for war they thought it wiser to refrain from all open acts of hostility. The Turkish army advancing sustained a defeat from the Egyptians, while their fleet, which had been sent to the Dardanelles, sailed for Alexandria, and joined that of Mehemet Ali. The four powers accordingly entered into an agreement to make him withdraw his army from Syria, and offering him the ultimatum of the hereditary sovereignty of Egypt and the possession during his life of Saint Jean d'Acre. If he refused, he was to have only the government of Egypt, and the four powers were to compel him by force to accept this arrangement. The sturdy old pacha, however, backed by France, resolved to hold out. A British squadron was therefore sent to blockade the ports of Egypt and Syria, with a few Austrian and Turkish ships, Russia undertaking not to take possession of Constantinople. The French had not been consulted in the matter, and had they felt themselves sufficiently strong, there is little doubt that they would have supported Mehemet Ali, at the expense of a war with England. Thus much was at the time known to Captain Lascelles. Much circumspection was therefore required, for it was difficult to understand who were friends and who foes. The French commanders might have received secret orders to attack the English after a certain day; the Egyptians might at any moment do so, if they felt themselves strong enough to be assured of victory; while it was more than probable that any Turkish ships might have gone over to the Egyptians, and have thus become enemies. Few of the officers turned in that night; they were all anxious to ascertain who the stranger was, and what could possibly have become of him. Captain Lascelles took the frigate in as close as he could venture, and though each time every eye on board was turned eagerly towards the shore, not a sign of a ship could be discovered. At length daylight dawned, and a white sandy shore was seen, with bare dark rocky heights rising behind it. "There she is! there she is!" broke from many voices as all the glasses on board were directed towards the shore. There lay stranded the huge black hull of a ship, her masts gone by the board, and her rigging hanging down in confused masses on either side, while the white surf dashed up around her. What had become of the people it was impossible at that distance to say. Captain Lascelles, who was on deck, ordered the ship to be hove-to.