When the final attack was made upon Sebastopol, the light division formed the storming party and supports. After running across the intervening ground between the trenches and the Redan, two hundred and eighty yards, and getting into the ditch and up on to the salient of the Redan, a check took place, and officers and men got no further. Some time elapsed, all the ammunition was expended, and no more was to be got. The Russians soon found this out, and charged us. The consequence was we were all sent tumbling over into the ditch which we had previously crossed. I fell flat among some poor fellows who never rose again, and my feelings of disgust were great when the above-mentioned officer put his foot--like a fiddle-case--in the centre of my back, and made use of me as a stepping-stone to get out of the ditch. I got out some way or other, and found myself, with many others, hurrying to our trenches, where I arrived in a very tattered condition. The first officer I met was my Scotch friend, who appeared greatly surprised to see me, and greeted me warmly, saying, ‘Maxwell! is that you? I thought you were dead. Have a drink,’ producing a flask, at which I was delighted to have a pull. The siege was over, another winter had passed in luxury compared with the one that had gone before, summer was coming again, and the Sebastopol heights were clothed with flowers, which hid both shot and shell beneath their green leaves. Peace was made, and we were all dreaming of home. I was paying a visit to Sir Houston Stewart, in his flagship, the _Hannibal_, commanded by my old friend, Sir John Hay. We had a most pleasant party, among whom was Sir Henry Bernard, a genial and agreeable companion. He now lies in his grave in front of Delhi. A man-of-war, the _Belleisle_, was reported as having arrived, and it was decided that the 88th Regiment should return to England in her. I was ordered to telegraph to the regiment, and next day they embarked. We were all in the greatest spirits. I bid adieu to the kind admiral and all friends in the _Hannibal_, and proceeded on board the _Belleisle_. A fatigue party of the regiment was engaged at the capstan when a fearful accident happened. I cannot tell what the cause of it was, but I believe the man who watched the chain neglected his duty. I can only state, however, what occurred. All of a sudden the chain ran out with great velocity, round went the capstan, and out flew the bars like porcupine quills. I was standing on the poop, and one of the capstan bars hit me on the face and marked me for life; but, far worse, a soldier, named Burke, who had been all through the siege, was killed outright. Another man had his leg broken, and others were wounded severely. Sir Houston Stewart telegraphed home that the accident had occurred, and that I was all right. I am glad he did so, for my brother had received the telegram, before he read in a Scotch paper that I was killed.