At dusk our bands played, and the mountains of the Morea, for the first time since they rose from the sea, echoed the strains of " God save the Queen." Our vocalists assembled, and sang glees or vigorous choruses, and the night passed pleasantly in smooth water on an even keel. The people lighted bonfires upon the hills, but the lights soon died out. At six o'clock on Tuesday morning the Golden Fleece left Vatika Bay, and passed Poulo Bello at 10.45 a.m. The Greek coast trending away to the left, showed in rugged masses of mountains capped by snowy peaks, and occasionally the towns — clusters of white specks on the dark purple of the hills — were visible; and before evening, the ship having run safely through all the terrors of the iEgean and its islands, bore away for the entrance to the Dardanelles. At 2 a.m. on Wednesday morning, however, it began to blow furiously again, the wind springing up as if "iEolus had just opened and put on fresh hands at the bellows," to use the nautical simile. The breeze, however, went down in a few hours, with the same rapidity with which it rose. Smooth seas greeted the ship as she steamed by Mitylene. On the left lay the entrance to the Gulf of Athens — Euboea was on our left hand — Tenedos was before us — on our right rose the snowy heights of Mount Ida — and the Troad (atrociously and unforgivably like the " Bog of Allen! ") lay stretching its brown folds, dotted with rare tumuli, from the sea to the mountain side for leagues away. Athos (said to be ninety miles distant) stood between us and the setting sun — a pyramid of purple cloud bathed in golden light; and the Leander frigate showed her number and went right away in the very waters that lay between Sestos and Abydos, past the shadow of the giant mountain, stretching away on our port beam. As the vessel entered the portals of the Dardanelles, and rushed swiftly up between its dark banks, the sentinels on the forts and along the ridges challenged loudly — shouting to each other to be on the alert — the band of the Rifles all the while playing the latest fashionable polkas, or making the rocks acquainted with " Rule Britannia," and *' God save the Queen."
At 9.30 p.m., our ship passed the Castles of the Dardanelles. She wTas not stopped nor fired at, but the sentinels screeched horribly and showed lights, and seemed to execute a convulsive pas of fright or valour on the rocks. The only reply was the calm sounding of second post on the bugles — the first time that the blast of English light infantry trumpets broke the silence of those antique shores.*
* It is a fact that at one time the Turks were busily engaged strengthening the batteries at the entrance of the Dardanelles, in order to prevent the entrance of the A/lied fleets without their consent.
After midnight we arrived at Gallipoli, and anchored. No one took the slightest notice of us, nor was any communication made with shore. When the Golden Fleece arrived there was no pilot to show her where to anchor, and it was nearly an hour ere she ran out her cable in nineteen fathoms water. No one came off, for it was after midnight, and there was something depressing in this silent reception of the first British army that ever landed on the shores of these straits.
When morning came we only felt sorry that nature had made Gallipoli, a desirable place for us to land at. The tricolor was floating right and left, and the blue coats of the French were well marked on shore, the long lines of bullock-carts stealing along the strand towards their camp making it evident that they were taking care of themselves.