CHAPTER XXIII.
_The Baron proceeds on his voyage--Convoys a squadron to Gibraltar -- Declines the acceptance of the island of Candia--His chariot damaged by Pompey's Pillar and Cleopatra's Needle--The Baron out-does Alexander--Breaks his chariot, and splits a great rock at the Cape of Good Hope._ Taking the reins in my hand, while the music gave a general salute, I cracked my whip, away they went, and in three hours I found myself just between the Isle of Wight and the main land of England.

Here I remained four days, until I had received part of my accompaniment, which I was ordered to take under my convoy.

'Twas a squadron of men-of-war that had been a long time prepared for the Baltic, but which were now destined for the Mediterranean.

By the assistance of large hooks and eyes, exactly such as are worn in our hats, but of a greater size, some hundredweight each, the men-of-war hooked themselves on to the wheels of the vehicle: and, in fact, nothing could be more simple or convenient, because they could be hooked or unhooked in an instant with the utmost facility.

In short, having given a general discharge of their artillery, and three cheers, I cracked my whip, away we went, helter skelter, and in six jiffies I found myself and all my retinue safe and in good spirits just at the rock of Gibraltar.