In 1792 he was ordered to Malta, and two years later he was fighting with the French in Corsica, the peace having already come to an end. On the 10th of July ended successfully the siege of Calvi, that being the last spot in the island which the French had managed so far to keep. As Moore was gallantly storming the breach he had a severe wound, a fragment of shell striking him on the head. For an instant he was stunned; but regaining sense, he once more sprang up the breach. Sir Charles Stuart, chief-in-command, looking anxiously on, was alarmed at the bursting of shells among the assailants. He rushed forward and dashed over intervening obstacles, to find Moore in the midst of shouting grenadiers, his face streaming with blood. Apparently the great dread of Sir Charles had been that he was killed, for in the excitement of the moment he caught him in his arms, hardly able to utter his thankfulness, not only that the breach was won, but that John Moore still lived. Two years later a collision between the English viceroy of Corsica, Sir Gilbert Elliot, and Sir Charles Stuart, made the latter resign his command and return to England; and later Moore was sharply ordered home by Elliot, who seems to have been annoyed with the friendship between him and the leading Corsican patriots. Moore, on reaching England, protested with much heat against the way in which he had been treated. He had, however, no need to disquiet himself. The King and the Duke of York took the matter up, promoted him to the rank of Brigadier-General, and sent him out to the West Indies, there to serve under Abercrombie. Both the Duke of York and Pitt had been, from the time of his seat in Parliament, his personal friends. Wherever he went he made friends for life. While he was in the West Indies, Denham Ivor, then a young subaltern of eighteen, was first thrown under the fascinating influence of Moore, having been for years one of his warmest admirers. As usual, numberless opportunities occurred for the display of personal bravery, in which Moore always shone. On one occasion he had a most narrow escape. At the storming of the all but impregnable fortification of Morne Fortuné in St. Lucia, as he led a desperate charge against the French, shouting till nearly voiceless, "Forward, forward! We have almost gained the heights!" a musket was aimed point-blank at him. One half second more, and Moore's career would have been ended; but a private grenadier, seeing his peril, flung himself between, received the bullet meant for him, and was caught in Moore's arms as he fell dead. Ivor too had won laurels and promotion in those days of hard fighting. Moore's influence over the younger officers was unrivalled; and many a one besides Ivor could look back, long years after, with the knowledge that John Moore had been the making of him, not only as a soldier, but as a man. Moore shaped the characters of those with whom he had to do.