Some time was to elapse before the arguments of Robins gave signs of bearing fruit. Experiments carried out at Woolwich in the seventies by Dr. Hutton with all the facilities ensured by the patronage of a ducal master-general of ordnance merely extended and confirmed Robins’ own results. In ’79 the carronade made its appearance, to attest in dramatic fashion the value, at any rate for defensive work, of a large ball, a small charge, and an unusually small windage. As offensive armament it represented, of course, the _reductio ad absurdum_ of the principles enunciated by Robins; its dominant feature of a ball of maximum volume projected with a minimum velocity was, in the words of an American authority, “manifestly as great an error as the minima masses and the maxima velocities of the long gun system, to which the carronade was thus directly opposed.” Nevertheless, the carronade (whose history we deal with in a later chapter) did excellent work. Mounted upon the upper decks and forecastles of merchantmen and the smaller classes of warships, it emphasized, by the powerful and often unexpected blows which it planted in the ribs of such adversaries as ventured within its range, the comparative inefficiency of the smaller types of long gun with which our ships of war were armed. To the clearest-sighted of our naval captains the relative merits and defects of the carronade and the small long gun were evidently clear. In the year 1780 we find Kempenfelt advocating, in a letter to Sir Charles Middleton, a weapon with a little more length and weight than a carronade: something between it and a long gun. Robins’ arguments against the still prevalent types of small pieces have proved convincing to him, and he transcribes the whole of the _Proposal_ for the consideration of his superior. “Here you have, sir,” he writes, “the opinion of the ablest artillery officer in England at that time, and perhaps in Europe.” Once more the versatile and gifted pen was called in aid of politics. In 1749 he was persuaded to write what his biographer describes as a masterpiece of its kind: _An apology for the unfortunate affair at Preston-Pans in Scotland_.[84] But soon an opening worthier of his talents presented itself. The East India Company, whose forts in India were as yet ill-adapted for defence, required the services of an expert in military fortification. An offer was made, and, as Engineer-General to the Company, Robins left England for the East at the end of ’49, to the great sorrow of all his acquaintance. They were not to see him again. In the summer of the following year he died of a fever, pen in hand, at work upon his plans in the service of the Company. * * * * *