The Admiral lent him a paddle-sloop, the _Spitfire_, commanded by an able officer, one Spratt; and for several nights I accompanied my uncle while the operations were going on. Our only danger was that we might be discovered by the Russian guard-boats that were always prowling about outside the harbour mouth. Somehow, they never saw us. After a week’s work at placing the lights, everything was in readiness for the night attack. The lights were very ingeniously placed, showing different colours on different bearings; and when on these bearings we knew our approximate distance from the fort at the harbour’s mouth. On the night of the 16th of June the _Miranda_ frigate, commanded by Captain Lyons, supported by rocket boats, was sent in to attack the forts. Unfortunately, the enemy got his range--owing to the illumination caused by the rockets, which lit up the whole scene. Poor Lyons was killed, and there was considerable loss besides, and the incident ended in being somewhat a failure. The intention of these night attacks was to worry the enemy, and keep the sailors and gunners down at the forts instead of their assisting in the siege batteries up at the front. Next night, that of the 17th of June, came our turn in the _Princess Royal_. My Captain begged to be allowed to go in alone, so as not to attract the fire of the forts by too great a display of firing, such as that of the previous night. Of course, this sort of affair under cover of darkness makes it a mere question of luck whether we should be sunk, or seriously mauled, or escape scot-free. The enemy could fire at random only. We were not blessed in those days with search-lights: in fact, there was nothing to give the enemy a clue to our distance, and they could not lay their guns with any certainty: whilst, we being directed to fire in broadsides only, there would naturally be no continuous firing to assist their gunners in laying the guns. We cleared for action at 9 P.M. that evening, hove in our cable, and awaited the signal to weigh. How wearisome each half hour seemed! We longed to have the business over. We waited and waited the signal; but half hour after half hour passed, and nothing happened. So we could only lie down at our guns and take a snatch of sleep--or make the attempt, at any rate. I wonder what many of us thought over during those weary half hours, and whether our minds were far away? Not a light was allowed. All was still, and in utter darkness. The only light to be seen on board was in the binnacle compass on the poop. I recollect well running up and down constantly to the poop to find out the latest news, and convey it below, because at one time we began to despair of the attack coming off that night.