I had one very close shave during the fighting. (Probably there were plenty of others, unknown to me.) I was standing on the sponson, helping the wounded up out of the boats, when I heard a devil of a crash close to my head, and, turning round, saw a great bulge and crack in the pantry bulkhead, at the after end of the paddle-box, exactly in a line with my head. I could not resist the temptation to look round, and in at the door, to see what was wrong; and there I beheld an 18-pound shot still pirouetting round on a shelf on which stood some of our crockery, now all more or less smashed. The missile had gone right through our paddle-box from one end to the other. A few more grains of powder or one bulkhead less, and my head would have been unshipped to a moral. Luckily, John Chinaman was not in those days enlightened in the use of shells. Had he been so, we should probably have lost four times as many men, and we might not have been able to take and destroy the Chinese Fleet as we did; Still, the Chinamen had grape, and filled their guns with bags of musket balls; and the jingall was an ugly customer, throwing a very large bullet. Once out of fire, on our way down the river, there was time to reflect. What would we not have given for a good cup of China tea under some of the groves we passed, and for the privilege of being left in peace for a short time? Instead of being at rest, we were tearing along full-speed, leaking like a sieve, owing to the shot holes. The first thing I did to my outward person was to change my clothes and make an attempt at a wash. I was covered in blood, begrimed with smoke: in fact, filthy. I had a hasty feed on what I could get hold of: to find anything was difficult, with so many poor wounded lying about on the beds in our cabins, on the sofas, everywhere. The next trouble was our leaks. Where the shot had gone through our sides all was fairly well, as the holes had been plugged up and covered with boarding; but several had stuck in our sides, and the vibration of the engines loosened them, and the leakage was serious. Pumps were kept going; but at one time during the night it was doubtful if we should reach Hong-Kong, as the water was rising to near the stoke-hole fire-pits. We hung on all night, however, and reached Hong-Kong at nine next morning. The remembrance of that evening and night, while we were steaming down, is heart-rending. It was dead calm, and the cries of the wounded were unbearable. Many were calling for their relations and friends; others would rise up in their beds, and then throw themselves down in despair. Several times I went on to the sponson to have their piteous cries drowned in the noise of the paddle wheels.