SERVICE.

The task with which I had been intrusted was one of the very greatest
responsibility; for the descent of a combined French and Spanish fleet
upon West Indian waters could only be assumed to point to an intention,
on the part of our enemies, to wrest at least some of our West Indian
possessions from us; an intention which our available resources on the
spot would be utterly inadequate to frustrate, in view of the formidable
force possessed by the enemy. It was therefore of the last importance
that any British reinforcements which might be hastening to the support
of the colonies should be quickly found and communicated with; and it
was equally important that they should be furnished with the latest
possible intelligence with regard to the movements of the enemy. The
duty, therefore, that I was asked to perform, single-handed, was such as
actually called for the employment of several vessels. Unfortunately,
however, there were absolutely none available for the Admiral at this
juncture, the only ship in port at the moment of my arrival in Jamaica
being the schooner _Firefly_, which vessel had immediately been
despatched to the several islands belonging to the British Crown with a
warning that a formidable force was approaching; for the reception of
which the best possible dispositions were to be made. It thus came
about that I, a young, untried hand, found myself called upon to perform
a service of almost national importance with only my own discretion to
guide me. My instructions, however, were simple and explicit enough,
and I resolved to carry them out to the letter.

After giving the subject the best consideration of which I was capable,
I came to the conclusion that if Monsieur Villeneuve really intended to
attack the islands in our possession, he would probably begin with the
Windward Islands. Instead, therefore, of working my way out into the
Atlantic, through the Windward Passage between Cuba and Saint Domingo, I
stretched across the Caribbean Sea on a taut larboard bowline, and noon
on the fourth day after sailing from Port Royal found us some ninety
miles west-north-west of the French island of Martinique, and while I
was at dinner the mate stuck his head through the skylight to report
land right ahead. I went up on deck to get a look at it, and soon
identified it as the summit of Mont Pelee, the highest point in the
island. We stood on, keeping a sharp look-out for vessels, but saw
nothing; an