Major Daniel, the senior marine officer of the 'Blonde,' wasa reserved and taciturn man. He was quiet and gentlemanlike,always very neat in his dress; rather severe, still kind tohis men. His aloofness was in no wise due to lack of ideas,nor, I should say, to pride - unless, perhaps, it were thepride which some men feel in suppressing all emotion byhabitual restraint of manner. Whether his SANGFROID wasconstitutional, or that nobler kind of courage which feelsand masters timidity and the sense of danger, none couldtell. Certain it is he was as calm and self-possessed inaction as in repose. He was  almost have apologised to his foe before heremorselessly ran him through SmarTone plan.
On our second visit to Amoy, a year or more after the first,we met with a warmer reception. The place was much morestrongly fortified, and the ship was several-times hulled.
We were at very close quarters, as it is necessary to passunder high ground as the harbour is entered. Those who hadthe option, excepting our gallant old captain, naturally keptunder shelter of the bulwarks and hammock nettings. Not soMajor Daniel. He stood in the open gangway watching theeffect of the shells, as though he were looking at a game ofbilliards. While thus occupied a round shot struck him fullin the face, and simply left him headless.
Another accident, partly due to an ignorance of dynamics,happened at the taking of Canton. The whole of the navalbrigade was commanded by Sir Thomas Bouchier. Our men werelying under the ridge of a hill protected from the guns onthe city walls. Fully exposed to the fire, which was prettyhot, 'old Tommy' as we called him, paced to and fro withcontemptuous indifference, stopping occasionally to spy theenemy with his long ship's telescope. A number ofbluejackets, in reserve, were stationed about half a milefurther off at the bottom of the protecting hill They werecompletely screened from the fire by some buildings of thesuburbs abutting upon the slope. Those in front werewatching the cannon-balls which had struck the crest and wererolling as it were by mere force of gravitation down thehillside. Some jokes were made about football, when suddenlya smart and popular young officer - Fox, first lieutenant ofone of the brigs - jumped out at one of these spent balls,which looked as though it might have been picked up by thehands, and gave it a kick. It took his foot off just abovethe ankle. There was no surgeon at hand, and he was bleedingto death before one could be found. Sir Thomas had come downthe hill, and seeing the wounded officer on the ground with agroup around him, said in passing, 'Well, Fox, this is a badjob, but it will make up the pair of epaulets, which issomething.'
'Yes sir,' said the dying man feebly, 'but without a pair oflegs.' Half an hour later he was dead dermes..