Shortly afterwards, four Sicilian gun-boats, each carrying a twenty-four pounder in its bow, were captured by the enemy close by Scylla; and these cannon were landed and added to the train against the fortress. The moment it was known they had fallen into Regnier’s hands, the _Delight_ sloop-of-war, commanded by Captain Hanfield, stood close in shore to recapture them; and we watched her operations, from the ramparts, with the greatest interest. Although the last day of December, it was a beautiful evening, and the golden Straits were gleaming in the light of the setting sun, then verging, through a sky of the purest azure, towards the green and lofty mountains which rise behind the spires and towers of Messina. The French beached the gun-boats in succession; and, covered by field-pieces and surrounded by squadrons of cavalry, we feared the sailors of the _Delight_ would never cut them out or destroy them. Protected by the ship’s broadside, three well-armed boats put off from her, and pulled shoreward, with the gallant intention of spiking the gun-boats’ artillery at all risks. Fire flashed incessantly from the red portholes of the _Delight_; and the white smoke of her cannon, rising through her taut rigging in fantastic curls, rolled away over the still bosom of the glassy Straits. The shot of the French field-pieces fell in a shower round her advancing boats; and wherever a ball plunged into the bright ocean, a pillar of liquid, like a water-spout, reared into the air with a hollow roar: a dozen of those crystal columns shot up their foamy heads at every moment, as the sailors pulled steadily towards the beach. In the headmost boat waved a large union-jack; and beside it, in the stern-sheets, sat Hanfield, waving his sword and cheering on his men. Close in his wake came the other boats, crowded with red and blue jackets, and glittering with boarding-pikes, bayonets, and cutlasses; while the glistening blades of the feathered oars flashed like silver in the sunlight, as they rose and fell in measured time, shooting the swift boats onward. Crowding on the ramparts, the 62nd cheered, and threw their caps into the air; a response arose from the deck of the distant sloop, when lo! a most unlooked-for misfortune took place. Scylla, that place of horror and mystery to the ancient mariner, and before whose "yawning dungeon" Æneas and Ulysses quailed with terror, was still fraught with danger. Under a press of canvass, the _Delight_ sailed obliquely, to keep company with her boats: there was a stiff breeze blowing straight from Sicily, and she stood close along shore, with every inch of her snowy canvass filled, when we beheld her shaken by a tremendous shock: her stately masts shook like willow wands, her long pendant fluttered, her broad sails shivered in the breeze, and she careened suddenly over. An exclamation burst from every lip.