up-stream, of about thirteen miles from Boolambemba Point. It was at
the mouth of a creek, named Chango Creek, and in a small bay or
roadstead about a mile long by perhaps half that width formed by six
islands, the largest of which was nearly two miles long by half-a-mile
wide, while the smallest and most easterly of all was a very diminutive
affair, of perhaps not more than an acre in area, densely overgrown,
like the rest of them, with thick, impenetrable bush. In the very
centre of this small roadstead, to which we had been piloted by the
Portuguese trader, we anchored the brig in two and a half fathoms of
water; when, the canvas having been furled, and all our preparations for
the attack having been fully made before dark, a strong anchor-watch was
set, and everybody else turned in to get an hour or two's sleep, strict
injunctions being laid upon the master, who had charge of the watch, to
keep a bright look-out, and to have all hands called at two bells
precisely in the middle watch. As for Lobo, he took leave of us
directly that our anchor was down, and, rousing out his sable crew, who
were fast asleep and snoring melodiously underneath the long-boat, took
to his canoe, once more and almost immediately vanished among the deep
black shadows of the islets that hemmed us in.

I know not what were the feelings of others on board the brig on that
eventful night, or how those two short hours of inaction were spent in
other parts of the ship, but I am convinced that when we all went below
to turn in, a very general conviction had spread among us that the
enterprise upon which we were shortly to engage was one that would prove
to be more than ordinarily difficult and dangerous, and while not one of
us probably had a moment's doubt as to its ultimate result, I believe
the feeling was pretty general that the struggle would be fierce and
obstinate, and that our loss would probably be unusually heavy. I
gathered this from the demeanour of the ship's crew generally, officers
as well as men; the former revealing the feeling by the extreme care
with which they scrutinised and personally superintended the several
preparations for the expedition, and the latter by the grim and silent
earnestness with which they performed their share of the work. True,
there was some faint attempt at jocularity among a few of the occupants
of the midshipmen's berth as we sought our hammocks, but it was
manifestly braggadocio, utterly lacking