“Ay, ay, sir,” said the mate; and the clear, steady voice of the leads-man was heard giving out the soundings, and shortly after the Onyx was hove up in the wind, and an anchor dropped in about nine fathoms of water, about three-quarters of a mile from the shore, and a mile to the eastward of Lyon Head. The boats were all in the water, the crews served each with a cutlass and brace of pistols. The launch was a fine boat; she carried a long twelve-pounder, loaded with grape, in her bows, and was steered by Master Burdett, the midshipman. Bill Saunders was in his glory; he was to have, by special permission, the charge of the gun. In a few minutes, all being ready, the men in their places, the row-locks muffled, the word to give way given, off they started, in high spirits. Captain O’Loughlin leading in the pinnace, in which he had a lieutenant of marines and eight men, besides twelve picked men of his own crew. He left the Vengeance to our hero and the two boats, his intention being to carry out the brig. There was scarcely a ripple against the rocks, the water was so smooth. They soon came up with the mouth of the creek, which, by keeping close alongside, they easily found, though from some distance off it would be scarcely visible. The entrance was not unlike that into Dartmouth, but infinitely narrower. The tide was nearly at full, so the boats glided noiselessly up the narrow part—the cliffs being very high and precipitous on both sides. The breeze came steadily down the creek. Just as they opened the wide part, they became aware of a large square-rigged craft, coming down dead before the wind, under top sails and top-gallant sails. “The brig,” said Lieutenant Thornton to the midshipman. The pinnace was about sixty yards ahead. Just as he uttered the words, a bright line of fire flashed from one side of the creek, and the rattle of musketry broke upon the stillness of the night. “Discovered, by Jupiter!” said our hero, standing up; “give way, my lads. Any one hit? Keep steady, men.” “No one hit, sir; all right,” shouted Bill, from the bow. “Look, sir, the brig is running ashore!” Our hero perceived that Captain O’Loughlin pulled up alongside, and, though received with a smart fire of musketry and pistols, soon gained her deck; and then the loud cheer of his men was echoed from the steep cliffs. “All right, my men,” said our hero; “give way, and now for the Vengeance;” and, through a fierce fire of musketry from the shore, the launch flew through the still waters of the creek. They were within seventy yards of the Vengeance when she opened fire from an eight-pounder, crammed to the muzzle with grape. The water round the launch was lashed into foam, and the spray flew over the men; but, as often happens, strange to say, in attacks of the same kind, not a man was hit.