AN D'ACUNHA: JOS GREEN, AS
USUAL, "MEETS WITH A FRIEND"--THE OPAL AT THE CAPE--SAILS FOR
MADAGASCAR--COMMODORE DOUCE OF THE RADIANT--A BOAT EXPEDITION UP THE
ANGOXA RIVER--THE SLAVERS' STRONGHOLD--MILDMAY'S SONNET INTERRUPTED BY
THE GUNS OF THE FORT--ATTACK ON THE SLAVE-DHOWS--THE COMMODORE IS LANDED
BY TOM BASHAN--CAPTURE OF THE FORT--CROSSING THE BAR.

Her Majesty's corvette _Opal_, under all sail, was slowly gliding across
the line, for which Dicky Duff and Billy Blueblazes were eagerly looking
out, Paddy Desmond having assured them that if they watched fast enough
they would be sure to see it. Mr Mildmay, being addicted to poetry,
was busily engaged in writing a sonnet on the subject, which, however,
did not corroborate Gerald's statement, as it began, "Ideal cincture
which surrounds the globe;" but as he was interrupted by Ben
Snatchblock's pipe summoning the crew to exercise at the guns, the
second line was not written, when Jos Green caught sight of the
manuscript which he had left on the gun-room table.

"I say, Desmond, Dicky and I have been looking out this last hour or
more for the line, and haven't sighted it yet," said Billy.

"Of course not; and you never will on deck. You should go to the
fore-topgallant-masthead; you will see it clearly from thence, if you
keep your eyes open wide enough; but if not, you have no chance."

"But if we do, we shall miss Neptune's visit. I suppose he'll be on
board us before long?" answered Billy.

"Of course he will, if he doesn't happen to be otherwise engaged; but he
has plenty of work on hand just now, and is just as likely as not paying
a visit to some other ship away to the eastward. You see, he can't be
everywhere at the same time. Or maybe his children have got the measles
or whooping-cough, and of course he wouldn't like to leave them,
especially if his wife happens to be out marketing. He's a domestic old
fellow, and the best of husbands and fathers. So you youngsters mustn't
depend on seeing him; and lucky for you, too; for his barber would be
after shaving your chins off, seeing you've nothing else round your
faces for him to operate on."

Paddy, the rogue, knew very well that the commander did not intend to
allow the once usual frolics and gambols to take place; the
time-honoured custom having, of late years, been generally abandoned on
board Her Majesty's ships of war, as has the barbarous custom of burning
Guy Fawkes been given up on shore by the