At 6 next morning we put out from Zanzibar and proceeded again to Dar-es-Salaam, where we demanded the surrender of the prisoners, threatening in the event of a refusal to again bombard the town. The Germans, however, had no intention of relinquishing their captives, so at 9 a.m. we commenced fire. I think I forgot to mention that the Torpedo Lieutenant who had greeted us boys so kindly when we first arrived on the ship from Dartmouth was one of those taken prisoner on this occasion, to our very deep regret. We ceased fire at 2 p.m. and put to sea for the night in case an attempt should be made to torpedo us. This second bombardment was not quite so successful as the first, but it started two more serious fires in the town—so we had our revenge all right! That evening it was decided that on the following morning a party should be sent to attack and demolish the lighthouse, which was situated on a small island at the entrance to the harbour. For this purpose there was detailed a landing party, consisting of seamen and marines, officered by a lieutenant and the subaltern of marines. Browne, one of the “snotties,” was also to accompany this expedition. However, much to the general disappointment, the sea on the next morning proved too rough to allow of any boats being lowered, and we had to abandon the project and return to Zanzibar. CHAPTER IX ORDERED TO THE DARDANELLES WE left the Cape about the 16th of February 1915. For several days previous to our departure we were busy taking in a quantity of stores suggestive of a land campaign. These included hand-grenades, entrenching tools, water troughs and tanks, provisions of every description, and a whole lot of empty biscuit-tins, the eventual usefulness of which I, for one, failed to fathom. When finally we weighed anchor and steamed out, having the Vice-Admiral and his staff on board, we encountered some very heavy weather. A stiff south-easter had been blowing for some days past, and off Cape Agulhas and in False Bay it was very rough indeed; but, save for the general discomfort which such weather always brings in its train, our voyage was without accident or incident, and a week later we dropped anchor in Port Natal—the port of Durban. Leave was given in the afternoon, but as half of us had to stay on board, and as it was improbable that we should get leave again in this particular place, we cast lots in the gun-room to determine who should go ashore. Baker and I were among the lucky ones, and we went off together and took the tram into Durban. We got down at the town station and walked along the main street, looking into all the shops. It was jolly being in such a very European place again. The quaintest feature of Durban seemed to us the native rickshaw-boys, who paint their faces and wear head-dresses of enormous many-coloured feathers, gaudy dresses sown with beads, and huge copper rings on their wrists and ankles.