On landing we found an unusual number of people on the Hard for that early hour, while parties of soldiers, headed by sergeants, were passing at the double-quick march. We inquired of one of the men we met what had happened. He said that on the relief coming to the spot where the sentry-box had stood, and finding neither box nor sentry, they had been seized with alarm. The captain of the guard had immediately reported the circumstance to the fort major, and, forgetting that peace had been established, he roundly asserted that the French squadron was at Spithead, that the Isle of Wight had been captured, and that Portsmouth would be attacked. The whole garrison was aroused, and the telegraphs on the hills set to work to communicate the intelligence far and wide. As I was the only person in the boat who knew what had actually occurred, I thought it prudent to hold my tongue and let things take their course. Nettleship and I therefore proceeded in search of the men, and before long found them, much in the condition we had expected, though sufficiently recovered to walk. Helped along by their shipmates, we got them down to the boats. The excitement was still at its height, when, just as we were shoving off, a boat arrived from the Gosport side, with the astounding intelligence that the missing sentry-box, with the sentry in it, was standing upright on the beach. Immediately a number of boats, one of which contained the captain of the guard and several other officials, pulled across to investigate the matter.
“We may as well go to see the fun,” said Nettleship; “the first lieutenant won’t find fault with us when I explain the object.”
Away we pulled with the rest, and lay off the beach, while Captain Bouncer and his party landed.
The sentry, who was standing in his box, stepped out, and saluted in due form.
“How did you get here, my man?” inquired Captain Bouncer in an angry tone.
“Faith, captain, that’s more than I can be after telling you,” answered the sentry, whom I recognised as a countryman.
“You don’t mean to tell me that you don’t know how you and your sentry-box were transported across the harbour in the middle of the night!” exclaimed Captain Bouncer.
“That’s just what I’m saying I can’t do, captain dear,” replied the sentry.
“You must have been drunk as a fiddler,” shouted the captain.
“I can swear, your honour, by all the holy saints, that I was sober as a judge,” answered Pat. “Shure it’s my belief I was lifted up by a couple of witches riding on broomsticks, and carried across without so much as wetting my feet, for my boots are as dry as if they had been roasting before the fire.”