There were landed from our ship quantities of stores, such as canvas to shelter the homeless people, and barrels of salt provisions as their victuals. The inhabitants after a while becoming somewhat reconciled to their misfortune, we left St. John's to see it no more, or so we then understood. We sailed for Bermuda, calling on the way at Halifax. "Just another cruise to the West Indies, boys, and then to dear old England," was the comforting assurance with which we often hailed one another. As on two previous occasions, so now again, we spent our Christmas at Bermuda with the fleet. The decorations on this our third Christmas-tide were not to be compared with the preceding year--a significant sign that there had been more scope for harmonious feeling between officers and men during the last twelve months. "Never mind, lads, we shall spend next Christmas at home," was the word of consolation passed from one mess to another.
It was customary when the fleet was thus assembled to hold battalion-days--that is to say, that all the various crews would land with their rifles and cutlasses, and a field gun from each ship. Headed by the flag-ship's band, we would be marched to a plain, and there engage in infantry drill as a battalion. Meantime the guns' crews were competing with each other as to their qualifications for smartness. The guns would be taken to pieces, unlimbered, and scattered on the ground, and the wheels of the gun-carriage wheeled away a considerable distance. On the order being given to "Limber up, and fire!" the crew which mounted its gun and fired the first shot earned the laurels. On one occasion the gun's crew of the 'Bellerophon' gained the honour, but unfortunately, through the neglect of one to serve the vent, the poor fellow lost his right arm, which was blown into atoms. I am pleased to add that every man and officer in the fleet freely gave him a day's payment, which in its totality amounted to nearly a thousand pounds.
It was during this stay at Bermuda that I was nearly shot dead. With others, I had landed to do my annual firing, which is required of every man in the navy. We had to fire ten shots from each firing point, which were separated a hundred yards apart from each other. There were six firing points, and therefore the limit for firing at the target was six hundred yards. I had fired my ten shots from the first point, and now had receded to the two hundred yards range. We fired in couples. I had made eight bull's eyes on the target, which delighted me, and after discharging my tenth shot my shipmate had still to fire his. He held the rifle in the firing position, and was in the act of pulling the trigger, when I passed within two inches of his muzzle. I just cleared it when the bullet was fired. It would have been my fault wholly and solely had an accident happened, as I ought to have dropped to the rear, instead of passing to the front. How can I doubt Providence in the light of this incident? It was God who made the trigger hard to pull that day, and I am positive that had it been an easy pull-off, the bullet would have passed through my head, as my mate fired from the kneeling position.