It was a fine cold night in March, and the Portland lights were in sight. I was in my cabin asleep, for all was going well, when in rushed the chief engineer asking for my tomahawk to cut the tow-ropes. I grabbed it myself and jumped on deck habited in a scarlet flannel sleeping suit, such as some of us rather affected at the time. There I found that a large sailing-ship had struck the _American_ on the port side, making a big hole in her, and knocking down the engine-room skylight on top of the engines, so that they could not be moved. The _Syria’s_ helm for some reason had been starboarded and we passed the stern of the sailing-ship dragging our tow-ropes with us; when these tightened the two steamers drew alongside one another and the _Aracan_, as the sailing-ship was called, lay across our two sterns. No one that was playing an acting part can describe a scene such as that. I can only record certain, impressions--I looked over the side and saw the interior of the ladies’ saloon of the _American_ through a great hole in the side, a stewardess standing with a candle in her hand in blank amazement. On the quarter-deck of the _American_ was Baynton as cool as a fish, with his chief beside him, saying that there were plenty to do the running about, all _he_ wanted was his engines cleared. At the after end of the _Syria_ was a crowd trying to board the _American_, thinking we were sinking. At the fore end of the _American_ another crowd were coming on board us under similar delusion, and to add to it all some Irish women were yelling blue murder either from fright or devilment, I know not which. I got some of our boats in the water by the skipper’s orders and then went on board the _Aracan_, whose crew had left her, to get her clear of our stern. This I succeeded in doing. She drifted a short distance away and went down by the head, her masts crashing as the sails felt the water on her downward plunge. She had been loaded with ammunition for Hong Kong, and it was rather a mercy that nothing caused an explosion, for her bow was flattened in like a wall where she had sailed into the _American’s_ side. When I got back to the _Syria_ I got orders to hoist the boats, and, hailing one to come alongside, I asked who was in charge, “Sergeant Dighton, sir,” came back the reply. She was manned mostly by volunteers from marine artillery, passengers, and that incident always struck me as being comical. By this time they had cleared the _American’s_ engines, and Baynton, seeing that the tow-ropes hung clear of his propeller, went full speed ahead like the fiend he was. Any other man would have got a spring out to separate the ships, but he meant to be out of it at the first minute at all costs--it was rather a mercy that we did not have some of the sticks down. Beyond a few breakages, however, little harm was done to us, and one of the tow-ropes held, so that we proceeded on our way to Southampton I cannot say how, but we got there the next day