Faulknor gave orders to let fall the foresail and hoist every stitch of canvas that the ship's masts would stand. Then he again headed the _Zebra_ up the bay, pointing in directly for the ramparts of Fort Louis. All round her, as the little sloop dashed forward, the water leaped and splashed, torn into spray under the tornado of grape and canister and round shot--any single one of which hitting the _Zebra_ fairly must have torn the little vessel open and sent her to the bottom like a stone--with which the French batteries met her as she came on. But it made no difference. A special Providence--in the form of a drizzling squall that suddenly came on, blowing in from the sea right in the faces of the French gunners--seemed to be protecting the ship and her men, and she passed through practically unscathed. One shot cut the main-topmast away, but that was all. The balls whizzed through the rigging and within a few inches of the men's heads but not a single man was harmed. At the instant that the _Zebra_ was seen to make sail and move ahead, the boats of the squadron set off rowing after her at their best speed, while the Naval Brigade batteries on shore, facing the flanking bastions of Fort Louis on either side, redoubled their fire on the enemy's works to distract the attention of the French as far as possible. At the same time, to hold Fort Bourbon on the hill behind Fort Louis in check and prevent reinforcements being sent down to assist the lower fort, the British siege batteries up above burst out into a tremendous fire of round-shot and shell that swept the French ramparts in the upper fort from end to end. On board the _Zebra_ it was an anxious time for every one; and with it all, simultaneously, Commander Faulknor had yet another trial sprung upon him. The risk from the enemy's shot was not the severest ordeal that the captain of the _Zebra_ had to go through. By an extraordinary coincidence, exactly the same thing happened on board the _Zebra_ as had already happened with such unfortunate results on board the _Asia_.[62] The pilot's nerve failed. The pilot of the _Zebra_ was an old man-of-war's man, who had been employed for many years in the West Indies on account of his pilot knowledge of the islands. He now broke down at the critical moment. But, as has been said, Commander Faulknor was not a Captain Brown. As he gave the pilot the order 'to place the sloop close under the walls of Fort Royal,' he instinctively noticed that something was wrong. The man, he thought, seemed to hesitate. He turned aside to one of his officers. 'I think Mr. ---- seems confused, as if he doesn't know what he is about. Has he been in action before?' 'Many times, Sir,' was the reply; 'he has been twenty-four years in the service.'