As the handkerchief dropped, Hutton fired low and sprinkled me with gravel. Our seconds, unlike Irishmen, held counsel, and said honour was satisfied. _I_ know I thought so; but Hutton declared for “Apology or blood.” On retaking our places, I began to think that I would rather bleed Dirk than die myself. When the handkerchief fell I thought I had spotted him. His pistol missed fire. My ball went through the thick part of his cap, and I was saved a life’s misery. Seconds declined to load again, and recommended the necessary shaking of hands. Hutton stated that I should go to him. I refused to go more than halfway way, which the seconds decided was just, and so ended the affair. O’Brien, thinking I might be able to eat a small supper, provided that pleasant meal at the quarters of his friend Holyoake, 78th Highlanders. I said my prayers more earnestly that night. CHAPTER IX THE _MAGICIENNE_ [Sidenote: 1832. March.] Trincomalee is a beautiful and extensive harbour, which had been taken and retaken by the Dutch and ourselves several times during the last century, and at the Peace of Amiens, in 1802, was ceded to England. In 1702 many pretty naval actions were fought off the island, in which our neighbours appear to have got the worst. In the centre of the harbour is Sober Island, about which our liberty men delighted to roam. Jack had discovered sundry little secret dells, in which, if after sunset you planted a rupee, on the following morning would find it had grown into a bottle of samshoo! The island belonged, I believe, by purchase to Commander Henry Ellis. Off the dockyard was a useful old hulk, the _Arrogant_, on board which Divine service was held on the Sabbath Day; and after dinner came “Sober Island,” with its usual results. [Sidenote: Mar. 12.] The _Southampton_, 52, arrived. We saluted the flag of Rear-Admiral Sir E. W. Owen, K.C.B. [Sidenote: Mar. 15.] The dark owner of a small farm brought a report of an invasion by elephants on his premises, destroying a plantation of cocoanuts, yam, and fruit, and if gentlemen sportsmen liked to come at night he was ready to show the way. This was indeed a chance. There was no difficulty in getting up a night picnic. Climate perfection--coolies willing. Towards midnight it came over a thick mist. Curries and songs expended. Our guide professed to scent Gadjá, and proposed an advance. We were led into a low jungle bordering a pâdi-field, but so dark you could scarcely see your hand. However, we could hear there was something alive, and my attention was called to a darker patch, into which we were directed to fire. There was a groan and a splash. It was too dark to follow, and our guide proposed the search should be postponed until after breakfast. When I got back I found myself invited to dine with the Admiral, who had been informed of my night picnic. The dinner was a grand affair, the Admiral’s band, ladies of officials, and all the Captains present.