At first the Ashantis fought with great determination. But our men pushed steadily forward, and then, advancing at a double, the foes, scared by the onslaught, gave way, and fled at the top of their speed. The whole force now pushed forward, and without further opposition crossed the pestilential swamp which surrounds Coomassie, and entered the town. The king and the greater portion of his fighting men had retired, and as the provisions were running short, and the force greatly weakened by the number of wounded and of men who had dropped with fever, it was impossible to pursue him in the bush. After a day's halt, the blood-stained capital was burnt, and the army retired to the coast. CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. SPIRITED AND GALLANT EXPLOITS. A REMARKABLE RESCUE. The following account is given in the words of Admiral Castle:-- "In the year 1837, I commanded HMS _Pylades_, on the East India station. We were on our return home, by the way of the Cape of Good Hope, when, on the 8th of May of that year, we were off Cape L'Agulhus. It was blowing a heavy gale of wind, with a tremendous sea running, such a sea as one rarely meets with anywhere but off the Cape, when just at nightfall, as we were taking another reef in the topsails, a fine young seaman, a mizen-topman, James Miles by name, fell from the mizen-topsail-yard, and away he went overboard. In his descent he came across the chain-span of the weather-quarter davits, and with such force that he actually broke it. I could scarcely have supposed that he would have escaped being killed in his fall; but, as the ship flew away from him, he was seen rising on the crest of a foaming wave, apparently unhurt. The life-buoy was let go as soon as possible, but by that time the ship had already got a considerable distance from him; and even could he reach it, I felt that the prospect of saving him was small indeed, as I had no hope, should we find him, of being able to pick him out of that troubled sea; and I had strong fears that a boat would be unable to swim, to go to his rescue, should I determine to lower one. I was very doubtful as to what was my duty. I might, by allowing a boat to be lowered, sacrifice the lives of the officer and crew, who would, I was very certain, at all events volunteer to man her. It was a moment of intense anxiety. I instantly, however, wore the ship round; and while we stood towards the spot, as far as we could guess, where the poor fellow had fallen, the thoughts I have mentioned passed through my mind. The sad loss of the gallant Lieutenant Gore and a whole boat's crew a short time before, about the same locality, was present to my thoughts. To add to the chances of our not finding the man, it was now growing rapidly dusk. As we reached the spot, every eye on board was straining through the gloom to discern the object of our search, but neither Miles nor the life-buoy were to be seen. Still, I could not