For an hour he lay in his little punt hoping for an opening to pass through. Daylight came and he had not time to return the distance to where we were; he therefore struck at once for Careening Bay, one side of which he knew was in the possession of the French. Lord Charles Paget’s plan of night attack had caused the Russians to change the route for conveying reliefs across. [Sidenote: July 19.] On returning from batteries got news of Lushington’s promotion and my appointment to the command of the Naval Brigade! Lucky dog that I am! [Sidenote: July 20.] Early ride to Kamiesch and breakfast with the Admiral. Kind and confidential chat. [Sidenote: July 21.] Assumed command of Naval Brigade: Prince Victor of Hohenlohe, A.D.C.; Rev. Josiah Thompson, Chaplain; forage allowance for five horses. Early morning, a cavalry corporal with two orderlies at my tent door. Reported myself at headquarters. [Sidenote: July 22.] Sunday, divine service in open air. Visited Right Attack and Quarries with Sir Harry Jones; dined with him. [Sidenote: In the batteries of Naval Brigade, July 23.] Instructions from headquarters to prepare for a sortie, and that I had better communicate with the General at the Quarries. The day was far advanced: a storm brewing. Had an experienced and good officer in Captain Moorsom, who had been in the Naval Brigade from the beginning. Of course Moorsom opened a sharp fire on the Russian batteries, which eventually drew part of their fire off our advanced trenches. He knew the bearings of the Russian forts on which our batteries could tell best. Could not do better than leave him in charge, while I went to the quarries for further instruction. Storm commencing, shifted into pea-jacket and jack-boots, sword and cap. Rain fell heavily. Zig-zags being on the slope, I was soon washed out and took to the open. Dark, too, came on with the storm; lost my way, but knew by descending, and the constant discharge of musketry, I must come to our own troops--which I did; but no one could hear or attend to me. I knew not the way. Took to the right. Came on the Guards, whom I knew by their bearskins; they were equally busy. It was no use pulling their coats; the thunder of guns and muskets rendered one’s voice equally useless, so crept on. The storm began to break. Laid hold of a soldier’s coat and bellowed to him. He bellowed “sergeant,” who bellowed me what my name was. When I told him, he said: “That lie won’t do. I know Captain Keppel of the Grenadiers. You must come to our officer.” I pleaded inability to walk further. Another bearskin on my left! No alternative. The storm and sortie were over. By the time we reached the officers, they were enjoying a little rest as well as refreshment. One of them asked the sergeant: “What have you there?” “A prisoner, sir.” After a while there was a laugh. Most of them knew and had made me out.