e, who, never a favourite with his master, now obtained a
double allowance of finnams, and a sly rope's-ending whenever
opportunities offered. Bobby began to discover that revenge, though
sweet, may recoil on the head of the avenger, and become very bitter.
More ultimately came out of the beef-bone affair.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

REACH THE MEDITERRANEAN--MALTA--A RIDE ON SHORE--A BALL--A HEROINE--OUR
PARTNERS--MR. NIP AND HIS PARTNER--AN ODD EGG HATCHED--ADAM STALLMAN'S
ADVICE--THE RIGHT THING THE BEST THING.

Nothing of importance occurred that I remember during our passage across
the Bay of Biscay. We had the usual heavy swells (though I have found
it as level as a fish-pond), a stiffish breeze for a day or so, which
gave us a cheery shove on our way, and light and variable winds and
calms, which latter let us roll till our yard-arms almost touched the
water, and effectually turned the landsmen inside out. Ten days after
leaving Plymouth, we were in the latitude of Lisbon. It was early
morning, and the land we were approaching was shrouded to common eyes by
a soft silvery haze, which allowed only a circle of blue sea to be
perceived round the ship, and a patch of about the same size of clear
sky overhead. On the larboard bow was perceived a darker mass of mist,
which after some time resolved itself into the well-known form of the
Rock of Lisbon. The wind being light and variable, we drew very
gradually inshore, till the mist suddenly lifting, as if at the command
of a magician, disclosed to us the splendid and fantastic scenery of
those rocky heights, as they rose proudly from the glittering ocean,
which was dotted with numerous sails of fishing-boats and coasters, and
here and there the canvas of some loftier merchantmen, making for the
mouth of the Tagus. On the lower land, to the north of the Rock, was
seen the royal palace of Mafra--a curious huge pile, imposing from its
height and the large extent of ground it covers. I do not, however,
intend to bother my readers with accounts of places and scenery, which
they may find much better described in numberless books of voyages and
travels. The wind freshening and coming fair, we continued our course,
and, passing the Capes of Ortegal and Finisterre on the second day after
leaving the Rock, were off Cape Saint Vincent, immortalised in naval
memories by Sir John Jervis' great action, and since then, by the way,
by a very pretty bit of fighting under Charlie Nap