so unlikely that I could have been in Chatham without
being recognised by somebody.

My grandmother shook her head, and said nothing during all this
canvassing of the question; but my aunt Milly declared that I never
would have been at Chatham without coming to see her. And it was her
opinion that the servant girl had read the letter when left on the
table, and had taken it out to show to her associates; and somebody who
wished to have a hold upon my mother by the possession of the letter had
retained it.

I think my mother came to that opinion at last, and it was the source of
much uneasiness to her. She dared not say a word to Captain Delmar, and
every day expected to have an offer made of returning the letter, upon a
certain sum being paid down. But the offer was never made, as the
letter had been sewed up by Bob Cross in the piece of seal-skin, and was
worn round my neck with a ribbon, with as much care as if it had been a
supposed bit of the wood of the true cross, possessed by some old female
Catholic devotee.

But long before all these discussions were over, H.M. ship Calliope had
been ordered to sail, and was steering down the Channel before a smart
breeze.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

Although I have so much to say as to oblige me to pass over without
notice the majority of my companions, I think I ought to dedicate one
chapter to a more particular description of those with whom I was now
principally in contact on board of the Calliope.

I have already spoken much of the Honourable Captain Delmar, but I must
describe him more particularly. When young, he must have been a very
handsome man; even now, although nearly fifty years of age, and his hair
and whiskers a little mixed with grey, he was a fine-looking personage,
of florid complexion, large blue eyes, nose and mouth very perfect: in
height he was full six feet; and he walked so erect that he looked even
taller.

There was precision, I may say dignity, in all his motions. If he
turned to you, it was slowly and deliberately; there was nothing like
rapidity in his movement. On the most trifling occasions, he wrapped
himself up in etiquette with all the consequence of a Spanish Hidalgo;
and showed in almost every action and every word that he never forgot
his superiority of birth.

No one, except myself, perhaps, would ever have thought of taking a
liberty with him; for although there was a pomposity about him, at the
same time it was the pomposity