The inhabitants of Sardinia were as wild as their country; the mountaineers and lowlanders generally were engaged in a kind of petty war with each other. Both parties always went armed, and murders frequently took place. At one of the anchorages in the straits, another mid and myself were attending a watering party--one of these fellows rode down with a bag of cheese, made of goat’s or sheep’s milk, for sale; he was armed with a long gun and pistols, and we had no firearms with us. Some dispute in the bargaining, for the want of understanding each other’s language, arose; the Sard, very coolly mounted his horse, and taking up his cheeses, rode off a short distance, and fired at us; the ball passed through the sleeve of the mate’s coat, and near my head; he then galloped off, reloaded his gun, rode up, and gave us another shot, but luckily without injury. A midshipman of the _Victory_ was killed by these fellows a short time afterwards in consequence of some dispute about the hiring of a horse that had been brought down by these wild folks to the beach. The poor mid, anxious for a ride, gave the rascal a dollar, mounted the horse, and rode backwards and forwards for an hour on or near the beach. The Sardinian wanted his horse, the other thought he had not had his dollar’s worth of riding, and a warm dispute ensuing, the Sard most deliberately shot at him with his gun, and broke his arm, so close up that it was necessary to take it out of the socket. He bore the operation well, poor fellow, but a fever afterwards came on, which carried him off. Lord Nelson tried to get satisfaction, but in a wild country like this, without law or justice, it was found impossible. The offender made his escape to the mountains, and nothing further was heard of him. Shooting parties occasionally took place, but, not having dogs, the sportsmen were seldom rewarded. Although some kinds of game were numerous, and flocks of blue pigeons, to the amount of thousands together, were seen, few were brought on board, for no person dared follow them far for fear of the wind changing, when we knew the fleet would sail immediately to regain our station. Previous to the Spanish war we were sent by his lordship, in the _Renown_, to the Bay of Rosas, in Catalonia, to procure bullocks and oranges for the fleet, where we remained long enough to have our clothes washed--a luxury we stood much in need of. Our long cruise of near fourteen months off Toulon, amidst nothing but gales of wind, and heavy storms of most terrific thunder and lightning, met with no reward in the shape of prize-money.