For a moment the success of the French seemed complete, and the sway of Napoleon universal; whilst the British army appeared, as had been often threatened, “driven into the sea.” But the British meantime returning to England, the chasms which want, fatigue, and the sword had occasioned in the recent retreat, were speedily filled up, and now our army only waited the opportunity when, returning to the Peninsula, it should avenge the past and deliver the oppressed. Soon, under Lieutenant-General Sir Arthur Wellesley, landed at Lisbon, it began that victorious career which, by a perpetual series of successes, advanced the tide of war through Spain, and, at length entering France, helped materially to overthrow the dominion which the Empire had usurped. Although the Ninety-first claims an interest in the actions of the “Peninsula,” it was not until the British army was about entering France that its connection therewith led to conspicuous service—the memorials of which are still borne upon the colours and appointments of the regiment in these words: the “Pyrenees,” the “Nive,” the “Nivelle,” “Orthes,” and “Toulouse.” From these scenes of stirring and thrilling interest, we turn to record a signal instance of heroism which, occurring nearer our own time, presents an illustrious example of the qualities which brightly distinguish the British soldier far more truly than even the triumphs of the battle-field. We give the incident as inscribed by order of the Duke of Wellington in the Records of the Regiment, who declared “he had never read anything so satisfactory,” that is, in its compilation, and the marvellous obedience to orders and fidelity to duty it serves as a report to show:— “The reserve battalion of the Ninety-first Regiment arrived in Table Bay on the 25th of August, 1842, under the command of Lieut.-Colonel Lindsay. “On the 27th of August the command of the battalion and of the detachments embarked on board the ‘Abercrombie Robinson’ transport, devolved on Captain Bertie Gordon of the Ninety-first Regiment, Lieut.-Colonel Lindsay and Major Ducat having landed on that day at Cape Town. “The situation of the transport was considered a dangerous one from her size (being 1430 tons), and from the insufficient depth of water in which she had brought up. The port-captain, who boarded her on the evening of the 25th, advised the captain to take up another berth on the following day. This was impossible, for the wind blew strong into the bay from the quarter which is so much dreaded there, and had continued to increase in violence during the 26th, 27th, and 28th August. “At eleven o’clock P.M., on the night of the 27th, it was blowing a strong gale, and the sea was rolling heavily into the bay. The ship was pitching much, and she began to feel the ground; but she rode by two anchors, and much cable had been veered out the night before.