even if we had succeeded in launching it. The Commodore, after having taken in a reef, hove her to on the port tack, and I turned in.

Next morning we found we had drifted a long way back, and as the wind was very light we did not bring up at Vigo till half-past seven P.M. By the time we had made her snug, it was too late to think of going ashore, so we dined on board. It was quite a comfort to be able to have the table laid and to be able to eat like a Christian, off a plate, and without having to hold on.

We

Early next morning Manuelo was alongside with everything we could desire, amongst other things some delicious strawberries, and we had a splendid breakfast. Coming on board about I for our lunch, we saw that the Vanadis, a steam yacht of 300 tons, had come in, and while we were at lunch, her owner came on board and kindly invited us all to dine with him that night, and the Commodore accepted the invitation. spent the afternoon idling about the shore and showing Mr. J— the sights, and we did not forget to call on the manager of the "Hotel Continental" and sample some English beer. At halfpast six the steam launch from the Vanadis was kindly sent to fetch us, and we spent a delightful evening on board. About eleven o'clock we bade good-bye to our kind host, who expressed his

H

doubts as to our ever getting back to England, and he also said that "although he was going to stop at Vigo two days and two at Corunna, he would be back at Southampton before we were." His prophecy, however, did not come true, as we were at Southampton at least ten days before him.

The next morning the Vanadis party paid us a visit, and were pleasantly surprised at the extent of the Chiripa's accommodation. We exchanged books, and were delighted to get something fresh to read. We informed our friends of the curious news we had heard at the Consul's that morning, i.e. that the cholera had broken out in England, and, of all places in the world, at Durham, but we could not fancy cholera in that dreariest of cathedral towns. The Commodore told them he would get under-way after lunch, and they said they would look out for us, and wishing us a safe passage they steamed away. Lunch despatched, our friend, Mr. J——, wished us good-bye, and was put ashore by Jack, it being his intention to return to Lisbon by train. Before we say goodbye to Mr. J—— I think I ought here to repeat a story not an anecdote, but a fact-which he told us. We had been complaining to him about the way in which we had been mobbed whenever we went to the theatre at Lisbon, and at the

same time expressed our astonishment at the unusual amount of politeness we received from the manager and all the employees at the hotel. So far as the mobbing at the theatre went, we had attributed it, more or less, to our costume, because, as our wardrobe was limited, and we never knew what weather we might have to go off in, we always went ashore in blue flannels, yachting caps, and shoes. We had raised the question one evening, over our pipes, when he said, much to our amusement, "Why, don't you really know?"—"No, certainly not," was our reply; "unless it was our generally disreputable appearance.”—"Nothing of the kind. The fact is, it was in all the papers when you first arrived that you were four English noblemen who had made a very heavy wager that they would do the trip from England to Gibraltar and back; and the manager told me that lots of people came to the hotel simply to stare at the representatives of England's old nobility." I can only hope we did it credit. While Jack was away a big bouquet of fresh flowers was affixed to the Chiripa's bowsprit, the anchor was weighed and made fast inboard, and under all plain sail, we bore down on the Vanadis, running close alongside, we dipped, and, with waving of hats and handkerchiefs, bade good-bye to the Vanadis and to Vigo.

CHAPTER X

IT was a perfect day just such a day as we had when we left Vigo for Lisbon-and we looked forward hopefully to a pleasant crossing. There was next to no wind, but what there was, was from the north, so it was not till 7.30 that we got clear of Bayona Island, going through the north passage. We were very glad when we were clear, as it was rather thick, and it was fast getting thicker. At 8.30 the wind freshened up considerably, so we hove-to, took in two reefs, and shifted to fourth jib. There was a nasty lumpy sea running, and we shipped a lot of water. After midnight, to our great joy, the haze commenced to lift and the wind eased.

Next day, 26th May, broke nice and fine. We met several steamers during the day. Shortly after mid-day the Commodore shook out two reefs, and we set second jib. At 7 o'clock we tacked in to Finisterre light, bearing N.b.E., and distant about five miles. Hour after hour

I

did we stand on and off the shore, but we did not seem able to shake off the light. It was a lovely night, quite clear, and a bright moon. think the moon must have been accountable for it, as during our watch Mac concocted the following poem, with which he favoured us the next morning :

"TO THE COMMODORE.

"When at the helm I breathed a prayer,

But you were hard of hearing,
That when I reached Cape Finisterre,
That I might finish steering."

At 1 o'clock A.M. Finisterre light, then bearing E.S., suddenly disappeared. The Commodore then laid course north-east, and took departure. It was such a lovely night that I did not mind yielding to Mac's entreaties to dog one watch, as there was certainly no necessity for more than two to be on deck at a time. When I relieved Mac and came on deck I went forward as usual to inspect our side lights, and found the starboard one had gone out, so I came aft and took the tiller from Orvis, while he went below to trim and re-light it. I was alone on deck, not the first time by many, but this was such a perfect night that one could, for a short time at least, realise "how passing sweet is solitude." I know nothing so impressive as to