Unfortunately so much time had been spent in convincing the captains of the Pallas and the Vengeance of the feasibility of an attack upon Leith, that the golden hour of success was lost. As the little fleet of three vessels was sailing up the wide Frith of Forth, and were abreast of Inchkeith Island, within ten or twelve miles of Leith, and which island is at the entrance of the harbor, the success of the enterprise seemed certain. It was the morning of the seventeenth. In an hour the vessels would have been within cannon-shot of the town. Everything was ready for the descent. Every preparation was made for the landing of troops under Lieutenant-Colonel Chamillard. The summons to the chief magistrate was written. It was characteristic of the humanity and energy of Captain Jones. “I do not wish,” he wrote, “to distress the poor inhabitants. My intention is only to demand your contribution toward the reimbursement which Britain owes to the much injured citizens of America. Savages would blush at the unmanly violation and rapacity that have marked the tracks of British tyranny in America, from which neither virgin innocence nor helpless age has been a plea of protection or pity. “Leith and its port now lay at our mercy. And did not the plea of humanity stay the just hand of retaliation, I should, without advertisement, lay it in ashes. Before I proceed to that stern duty as an officer, my duty as a man induces me to propose to you, by means of a reasonable ransom, to prevent such a scene of horror and distress. For this reason I have authorized Lieutenant-Colonel de Chamillard to agree with you on the terms of ransom, allowing you exactly half an hour’s reflection before you finally accept or reject the terms which he shall propose.” The alarm had reached Leith, and was running along the thronged streets of Edinburgh. All was hurry and confusion. Crowds were assembled on the beach, and were rushing to all the commanding heights in the neighborhood. On the northern shore of the bay was the thriving little town of Kirkaldy. The three vessels passed within a mile of the town. It was the morning of the Sabbath. Nearly all of the little community were at church. Alarmed by the near approach of the squadron, they made a general rush to the beach, accompanied by their pastor, the Rev. Mr. Shivra. He was a man of great eccentricity, and particularly remarkable for the familiarity with which he was accustomed to address the Deity. Standing upon the beach, with uncovered head and uplifted hands, and surrounded by his reverent flock, it is said that he offered, in broad Scotch, the following extraordinary prayer. It was not extraordinary to them, or irreverent, for they had ever been accustomed to such utterances.