wn off from old Collet, and his
refreshing draughts, towards a boat which pulled alongside, filled with
musicians, who if they produced sounds not especially harmonious, took
care that they should be loud enough to be heard far and wide.

"Huzza for the Banjee," sung out some of the men forward. "Come,
Smaitch, tip us a tune there--Go ahead, Banjee!" and on this requisition
the performers in the Banjee boat began to exert their talents to the
great delight of their hearers, who rewarded them with showers of pence.
Not, however, of this character are the principal Banjee boats; which
really contain very good musicians, who enliven the harbour with their
sweet harmony, and are often some of the best performers from the Opera
House. Valetta harbour is in truth as lively and animated, as
interesting and picturesque a sheet of water as is to be found in any
part of the world. On the north side of where the ship lay were the
dazzling white walls of the city towering towards the blue sky, with the
Marina below them, and numerous vessels moored along the quays; on the
other side the frowning batteries of Fort Saint Angelo, and the Venetian
looking canal, called Dockyard Creek; many of the houses having doors
cut through the rock opening down to the water, the whole wearing an
aspect more Oriental than European. Then the boats, darting about in
every direction, mostly painted bright green and yellow, with upright
sterns rising high above the gunnel, and great big eyes painted on the
bows--very often having the name of some ship or other on them in
addition.

And the boatmen, with their long red or blue caps, the tassel reaching
to their waists, their gay waistcoats, their shirt-sleeves rolled up
above their elbows exhibiting their brawny arms, their red sashes, their
blue overall trousers, and their nankeen ones below, are not unworthy of
remembrance. But the most picturesque objects are the lateen sails with
their long tapering yards either wing and wing when skimming along
before the wind, or heeling over when close-hauled upon it.

Such in part was the scene viewed from the deck of the _Ione_.

Captain Fleetwood sat meditating in his cabin. He had read all his
letters from home. They contained nothing that was not satisfactory,
and yet his thoughts were far from cheerful. He was out of spirits at
not hearing from Ada; from being unable to gain any information about
her. He, however, had received no positive orders