when Her Majesty's brig _Ione_
made her number in the offing, approaching the port from the northward.
It was observed at the signal station at the top of Government House,
and from thence telegraphed to the guard-ship. At the same time another
sail appeared from the eastward. She soon was made out to be a
merchantman. Both had a fair wind. The brig of war stood in for the
harbour on a bowline, her yards braced up on the larboard tack; and a
very beautiful object she appeared, with all her canvas to her royals
set to a nicety, as she rounded Fort Saint Elmo, and then kept away a
little and run to her former anchorage, when, at a wave of her
commander's hand, as if by magic, the whole crowd of canvas was in an
instant clewed up and furled, and she brought up off Fort Saint Angelo.
The merchant brig, which had the yellow flag flying, ran towards Port
Marsa Musceit, and deliberately furling one sail after another, she
dropped her anchor at the quarantine station, for she had come from the
land of the plague, and many a day must pass before she could get
_pratique_. Captain Fleetwood ordered his gig and hastened on shore, in
order to report himself and to deliver his despatches to the governor.
He had just returned from a trip to Naples, where he had been sent to
convey despatches and also to bring back a few casks of light wines for
the governor's table. He was cordially received by the old veteran,
with whom he was a favourite. He was just taking his departure when he
was called back.

"It may be for your satisfaction to learn, Captain Fleetwood, as I know
that you are in a hurry to reach England, that you are to be sent home
immediately with despatches and the mails," said the governor kindly.
"I dare say we shall see you out here again before long, from what I
hear, eh?" Charles Fleetwood actually blushed.

"I shall certainly come back to the Mediterranean, with or without a
ship, as soon as I can," he answered; "and I hope I shall find you well,
sir."

"I shall be glad to see you, my lad, and I wish ye every success," said
the old governor kindly, as Fleetwood took his final leave. On his way
back to the ship he called at the post-office, for he was anxious to
ascertain, without delay, if there were any letters for him. He hoped
to receive one from Cephalonia. He felt sure Ada would have contrived
to write to him; and as he made the inquiry his heart beat much faster
than usual. He had a packet of letter