The _Labrador_ steamer had a narrow escape from entire destruction. Towards four o’clock a shell burst in the captain’s cabin, adjoining the powder magazine, and set fire to some ropes. A cry of “fire” was raised, the pumps set to work, and enormous quantities of water poured into the magazine. The fire was fortunately extinguished in time to save the vessel. She was, of course, compelled to withdraw from the attack, her powder being rendered useless. Admiral Dundas’s flag-ship, the _Britannia_, which fired from a longer range than the ones we have mentioned, received less damage, though she did not escape quite scatheless. The enemy’s shot ploughed up the water around, and occasionally a shell or round-shot fell upon the deck or crashed through the rigging. Fortunately, however, only two men were wounded on board this ship. The French vessels gallantly performed their part in the bombardment. Our allies had adopted the same plan as the English, and lashed small steamers to the large sailing-vessels to bring them into action. Two splendid steamers, the _Pluton_ and the _Charlemagne_, proudly led the way in, followed by the _Montebello_, the _Jean Bart_, and the rest of the squadron. The enemy at Fort Alexander maintained an unflinching resistance, and inflicted severe punishment on the attacking vessels. Those who witnessed this tremendous bombardment, whether from land or sea, will probably never forget the spectacle. No imaginative description could approach the mingled sublimity and horror of the scene. A fleet of noble vessels, powerfully armed, poured forth sheets of flame from every port-hole on the attacking side; and the ponderous forts, from hundreds of embrasures, vomited a death-dealing reply. The thunder of artillery was deafening, and the sky darkened with the smoke. Thousands of grim and fierce-looking men, their faces blackened with gunpowder and sweat, moved about the decks, and pointed the guns, amid the crash of falling spars and the groans of their wounded messmates. Beyond the town, a sullen roar was heard, which might have been the echo of the sea-battle, but which the sailors well knew was the voice of the guns on land, many manned by seamen from the fleets, and responded to by a thousand of the enemy’s pieces. The awful boom of the guns grew in intensity as some fresh ship arrived on the scene, and contributed her broadside to the attack.