My uncle was calmly walking the poop, in close conversation with the Commander, and awaiting the signal to weigh. At last, at midnight, up went the signal, by lanterns: “Weigh and proceed.” All was bustle in an instant; though beyond the links grinding in at the hawse pipe not a sound was to be heard--no boatswain’s whistle: absolutely nothing. We were soon under weigh, and off at slow speed. The lights which we placed were plainly visible as we steamed in. It was a most exciting moment as we gradually approached the enemy’s huge batteries. The men were already at their guns, and we had placed a few more from our port batteries over to the star-board side, in order to give them not only 46 but also 50 or more shots from our star-board broadside. Having got our bearings on with the lights (coloured large lanterns), we steamed on until a certain light showed red: then we knew our approximate distance, and that it was time to fire. Up to this time I had been constantly sent down with messages to the officers at their quarters, in order to make sure that no mistake could possibly be made; and the Captain arranged to give the order himself for the broadside to be fired at the exact moment. I was on the poop by the Captain’s side. Suddenly he asked whether all was ready below--the guns being elevated to 1200 yards and loaded with shell. The answer was, “Yes, sir.” He said, “Stand by.” A few seconds of suspense followed. When the order to fire was given, off went the roar of these guns simultaneously from our whole broadside; and in a few seconds I saw the most lovely illumination of the whole front of Fort Constantine. Our shells had burst beautifully. On the face of the fort, for an instant or so, I could plainly see the embrasures (so to speak) lit up, and, indeed, the whole face of the fort. A minute or two elapsed before any fire was returned. First came one or two shots; then gradually more; until they began pounding away to their hearts’ content, firing red-hot shot, shells, and chain shot, the latter to cut our rigging. The shells I could plainly see coming over us, some few bursting short; but the enemy must have estimated our range to be 200 yards farther out, for hundreds passed over us, cutting our rigging unmercifully. Had we been that distance farther out to sea we should indeed have got a proper mauling. It was great luck, indeed, that our hull was hit only five times. We lost only two killed and five wounded: all at one gun under the poop: just below where my Captain and I were standing.