The Journal of a Sporting Nomad 



At daybreak the order was given to attack 

 Nimbi, and a flotilla was formed, led by a 

 pinnace under the command of the first lieu- 

 tenant of H.M.S. St. George. 



Facing down the long creek was a wooden 

 house, one of the principal landing-places to the 

 town, and here the natives had set up some old 

 muzzle-loading guns, loaded with solid shot. So 

 soon as the pinnace came within range, they 

 fired point-blank at the leading boat, their aim, 

 unfortunately, being only too correct, for the first 

 shot hit the edge of the shield, behind which 

 the first lieutenant was standing. Glancing off, 

 the round shot hit the poor fellow in the face, 

 killing him instantly. Another try sent a second 

 death-dealing shot through one of the port-holes. 



Now several three-pounders joined in the 

 fray, the boom of which mingled curiously with 

 the incessant chatter of the Maxims and the 

 shrieking war rockets. Presently the firing from 

 the house ceased, a landing was effected, and 

 the bush cleared by the firing of volleys into it 

 a necessary precaution, for there was a narrow 

 path on which our party might very easily have 

 been ambushed. 



I was more or less " on my own," not being 

 attached to any force in particular, and went at 

 once to the wooden landing-house, where the 

 walls stood honeycombed with Maxim bullets 

 it would have been hard to find a square foot 



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