“Silently and regularly we moved on this our last short night-march in the dark, tranquil night of the 16th, and, passing through the gates, reached the quay. The names of our respective transports had previously been explained to us, my own being the brig _Reward_, which I found to be from Sunderland. I was on deck as light dawned, and then at once saw the danger of the position of this miserable little transport, as well as of a dozen or more of the same craft. They had been foolishly allowed to anchor immediately under the tongue of high land which forms the eastern side of the harbour, and on which there were no land defences. Knowing that this ground was only a continuation of the hilly track on which my division had marched a few hours before, and being certain that the French would with the peep of day pass over our old bivouac to this promontory, I at once urged our skipper to get up his anchor betimes. But the grog had, I suppose, been strong that night. He exclaimed, ‘Why, I tell you, the brave Highlanders are there; they have not come away like you folks.’ Scarcely had he spoken when a battery of field-pieces opened their fire and sent some balls through our rigging. Turning pale as death under the fire of these mere field-pieces, and seeing that his crew were ready to run below, he applied the axe to the cable, and in a few minutes we were drifting away as we best could. The wind being from the east, we were fast approaching the rocks on which the Castle of Antonio stands, and on which at least five transports similarly circumstanced to my own were wrecked, the men being saved with difficulty, after losing their arms, colours, and baggage. “I have often reflected on the extraordinary want of all due arrangement on the part of our admiral, in command of a splendid fleet, who allowed those miserable transports to anchor in such a position without placing a frigate or two near them to silence the puny battery and prevent the dismay which seized the skippers. “Not missing stays, the _Reward_ floated away, and was soon going fast before a strong nor’-easter, with the rest of the fleet helter-skelter for the Channel.” In 1815 Murchison met Charlotte Hugouin, the daughter of General Hugouin, and as she was attractive, piquante, clever, and highly educated, she made a conquest of the gallant soldier. They were soon married, at Buriton, in Hampshire. Hitherto he had lived at his own free will. From this time he came under the influence of a thoughtful, cultivated, and affectionate woman. Quietly and imperceptibly that influence grew, and she led him, with true womanly tact, into a sphere of exertion where his uncommon powers might find full scope. To his wife he owed his fame, as he never failed gratefully to record; but years had to pass before her guidance had accomplished what she had set before her as her aim.