but did not open their heaviest fire till we were within 600 yards. Nearly the first poor fellow cut in two by a round shot was an amateur, Major Kearney, whom I had known many years. We cheered, and were trying to get to the front when a shot struck our boat, killing the bowman. Another was cut in two. A third shot took another’s arm off. Prince Victor leaned forward to bind up the man’s arm with his neck-cloth. While he was so doing, a shot passed through both sides of the boat, wounding two more of the crew; in short, the boat was sunk under us. [Illustration: _Part of my Galley’s Crew._] Our man-of-war boats do not carry iron ballast, but are steadied by “breakers” made to fit neatly under each thwart and filled with fresh water. The tide rising, boats disabled, oars shot away, it was necessary to re-form. I was collared and drawn from the water by young Michael Seymour, a mate of his uncle’s flagship, the _Calcutta_. We were all picked up except the dead bowman, whom the faithful dog “Mike” would not leave. As we retired I shook my fist at the junks, promising I would pay them off. We went to the _Hong-Kong_ and re-formed. I hailed Lieutenant Graham to get his boat ready, as I would hoist the broad pennant for next attack in his boat. I had no sooner spoken when he was down, the same shot killing and wounding four others. Graham was one mass of blood, but it was from a marine who stood next to him, part of whose skull was forced three inches into another man’s shoulder. When we reached the _Hong-Kong_ the whole of the Chinese fire appeared to be centred on her. She was hulled twelve times in a few minutes. Her deck was covered with the wounded, who had been brought on board from different boats. From the paddle-box we saw that the noise of guns was bringing up strong reinforcements. The account of our having been obliged to retire had reached them. They were pulling up like mad. The _Hong-Kong_ had floated, but grounded again. A bit of blue bunting was prepared to represent a broad pennant, and I called out, “Let’s try the row boats once more, boys,” and went over the side into our cutter (_Raleigh’s_), in which was Turnour and the faithful coxswain, Spurrier. At this moment there arose from the boats, as if every man took it up at the same instant, one of those British cheers, so full of meaning, that I knew at once it was all up with John Chinaman. They might sink twenty boats, but there were thirty others who would go ahead all the faster. It was indeed an exciting sight. A move among the junks! They were breaking ground and moving off, the outermost first! This the Chinese performed in good order, without slacking fire. Then commenced an exciting chase for seven miles. As our shot told they ran mostly on to the mud banks, and their crews forsook them. Young Cochrane in his light gig got the start of me,