240 
IN FOKBIDDEN SEAS 
the bullets which struck me all entered my clothing 
on the left side. The uppermost entered under 
my arm just outside the breast pocket of my coat, 
passed through the pocket, round my chest, and out 
on the right side. The next entered a few inches 
lower, following a similar course. The third passed 
across my stomach, making several holes in my 
clothing in its course. The fourth entered my left 
thigh, passing through the flesh behind the leg-bone. 
I expected every moment to be shot through 
the body, and I could not help wondering how 
it would feel. Another thing that vividly im¬ 
pressed itself upon me was the smell of hot lead. 
Had anyone told me previously that it was possible 
to smell bullets that were being fired at you, I 
should certainly have thought he was drawing on his 
imagination. Most people know the smell of melted 
lead. Now, the men firing at us were using Win¬ 
chester repeating rifles ; with rapid firing the barrels 
of the rifles soon become very hot, so hot, indeed, 
that with soft lead bullets, such as were then used, 
the outside of the bullet often becomes partly melted, 
and is apt to slither, particles dropping off after it 
leaves the barrel. This I have often proved in 
running a breaching otter, where constant firing 
has to be kept up. I reckon that over 400 
shots were fired at us, sixty or more of which took 
effect on the boat and ourselves. There were thirty- 
four holes through the boat, and eleven bullets struck 
our oars and paddles. The balance we got our¬ 
selves, and it will thus be seen that we had a perfect 
hail of bullets about us. The term “ to smell 
powder ” is intended to denote danger of being 
shot; “ to smell lead ” would be much more appro- 
