inted with all the risks to be encountered. I knew
that I might either be blown up, or, if overtaken by the enemy, cut to
pieces without remorse, no quarter being given to people engaged in that
sort of work. During the first day after volunteering I had not time to
think much about the matter, but four-and-twenty hours spent in
comparative inaction enabled me to contemplate the consequences in their
true light, and though I felt as resolved and determined as ever, I knew
well that this might be the last day of my existence. I did not so much
dread the future, I own, as regret all I was leaving behind. I thought
over and over again of Madeline--of the happiness I had hoped to enjoy
with her--of the grief should I fall, my death would cause her. I
thought of my family and of the dear ones still surviving at home who
hoped to welcome me when war was over, but would hope in vain. I felt
very grave and sad, but not the less resolved or undaunted I may say,
and determined to do my duty. The time was approaching for our start.
I walked aft and stood looking over the taffrail away from the crew, and
there I offered up a deep, earnest prayer for protection for myself and
also for my people in the expedition in which we were engaged. Yes, I
prayed, and sincerely too, believing that I was praying aright as I
stood over all those terrific combustibles which were to bring havoc and
destruction among hundreds of our fellow-creatures not more guilty, not
more worthy of death than were I and my fellows. I will not stop to
moralise on that subject, yet I have often since thought that it is one
worthy of deep consideration. Of one thing only I was certain that, as
an officer in the Navy, I was doing my duty to my king and country in
endeavouring to destroy their enemies, and all the rest I left to the
guidance of Him who rules all things for the best. I now feel that
there is a purer law, a stricter rule which should prevail instead of
those which most men follow, but it would be out of place here to
discuss the subject.

The ships in the harbour gave out the hour of midnight. It was the
signal agreed on for starting. We made sail, cut our cables, and ran
down the river. The wind held fair, the night was dark, and there
appeared every probability that our undertaking would succeed. Nol
Grampus, Rockets, and four other men were with me to man the boat in
which we were to make our escape. Not a word was spoken. Every
arra