in a most gallant fashion by the
solitary middy of the party, a lad named Franks, only fifteen years
old. One of the two boats belonging to the British had been bilged by
the surf, and the thirty-five seamen--only four of them wounded--packed
themselves into the remaining boat and pulled off, carrying with them
the captured Dutch colours. Let the reader's imagination illuminate,
as the writer's pen cannot, that midnight dash by thirty-five men on a
heavily armed fort with a garrison twelve times the strength of the
attacking force. Where in stories of warfare, ancient or modern, is
such another tale of valour to be found? Lyons, however, was not
promoted, as he had "acted without orders."

A tale, with much the same flavour in it, but not so dramatically
successful, has for its scene the coast of Spain. In August 1812, the
British sloop _Minstrel_, of 24 guns, and the 18-gun brig _Philomel_,
were blockading three small French privateers in the port of Biendom,
near Alicante. The privateers were protected by a strong fort mounting
24 guns. By way of precaution, two of the ships were hauled on shore,
six of their guns being landed, and formed into a battery manned by
eighty of their crews. The _Minstrel_ and her consort could not
pretend to attack a position so strong, but they kept vigilant watch
outside, and a boat from one ship or the other rowed guard every night
near the shore. On the night of the 12th the _Minstrel's_ boat, with
seven seamen, was in command of an Irish midshipman named Michael
Dwyer. Dwyer had all the fighting courage of his race, with almost
more of the gay disregard of odds than is natural to even an Irish
midshipman. It occurred to Mr. Michael Dwyer that if he could carry by
surprise the 6-gun battery, there would be a chance of destroying the
privateers. A little before ten P.M. he pulled silently to the beach,
at a point three miles distant from the battery, and, with his seven
followers, landed, and was instantly challenged by a French sentry.
Dwyer by some accident knew Spanish, and, with ready-witted audacity,
replied in that language that "they were peasants." They were allowed
to pass, and these seven tars, headed by a youth, set off on the three
miles' trudge to attack a fort!

There were eighty men in the battery when Michael and his amazing seven
rushed upon it. There was a wild struggle for five minutes, and then
the eighty fled before the eight, and the delighted middy