al exploit called for
volunteers. If I bore a charmed life it was no credit of mine, and if I
had more than my fair chance of distinguishing myself it was because the
adventure always comes to the adventurous, not that I was greedy of what
belonged to others.

On one occasion--it was an evening towards the end of our long term of
service in foreign waters--I found myself not only lucky but famous, in
a way I had never dreamed of. We were lying off Chanson, a French
island, embayed by a strong gale of wind, and uncomfortably near the
range of a fort, with which for some hours we had been exchanging
distant shots of defiance. Captain Swift, our commander, would have
liked, had it been possible, to secure himself more sea-room; but as the
wind then blew it did not seem safe to attempt to shift our anchorage,
and incur the risk of getting further under the guns than we were.

Captain Swift was in the act of debating with his officers as to the
advisability of sending an expedition ashore to deal with the fort, when
the look-out man announced two French sail in the offing bearing down on
us.

This decided the question. To stay where we were was to wait to be
caught between the two fires of the ships and the fort. We must get out
of the bay somehow, and to do it we must make a desperate effort to
silence the fort.

Two boats were ordered out, each in charge of a midshipman and a petty
officer. Twenty men were told off for each boat. Our instructions
were, as soon as night fell, to put off for shore, land at two different
points a mile apart, and approach the fort from opposite sides. The
_Diana_, meanwhile, was to slip her cables and attempt the perilous feat
of warping out of the bay, so as to be ready for the French ships.

Much depended on the promptitude and success with which the
expeditionary force tackled the fort. For if morning dawned with its
guns on our lee-side and the two enemies to windward, there was little
chance of getting out of the dilemma.

The lieutenant in charge of the first boat selected me among his crew.
With cutlasses and pistols in our belts, a coil of rope over our
shoulders, and spiking gear handy, we took our places silently, and
waited impatiently for the dark. The sun as usual in those parts
toppled down suddenly into the sea, and almost before the last edge of
his orb dipped, we were on our way for the shore. Our only difficulty
in landing was the heavy surf, which nearly st