's own man, Mitchell, who, like his master,
was a character not unworthy of note. Bowse, who understood pretty well
the state of affairs, soon contrived to get the colonel below, while he
detained Ada on deck, and then pointing out Captain Fleetwood's boat to
her, beckoned him on board. He was much too judicious to show in any
other way that he was aware of the feelings of the parties; but leaving
them together, he rejoined the colonel in the cabin, determined to keep
him there as long as he could, showing him the arrangements made for his
convenience. Little did the old gentleman think, that when praising
many of them, he was indebted for them to the man for whom he had
conceived so hearty an aversion. What the lovers said need not be told.
Those few moments were sweet but sad, and both felt that they would on
no account have missed them. Ada again assured him that nothing should
induce her to give him up, and he repeated his promise to hasten and
claim her in spite of all opposition. The appearance of Bowse's honest
face up the companion-ladder was the signal for him to tear himself away
from her, and he had just time to get over the side, when the colonel
appeared on deck.

"What are you gazing at there, missie?" he asked, as he saw her, soon
after, looking up the harbour. "Oh, ay, thinking of your partners at
the ball, I suppose." She did not answer; but as she turned her face
with a reproachful look at her uncle, her eyes were full of tears.

As soon as Bowse came on deck, he gave the signal to weigh. The cable
was already hove short, the topsails were loose. The men went about the
work with alacrity, and in a style very different to that of merchant
seamen in general. They were all prime hands, mostly old men-of-war's
men turned adrift, as ships were paid off, and had all before served
with Bowse.

He carried on the duty, therefore, as far as circumstances would allow,
in the fashion to which they had been accustomed, and to which they
willingly submitted. The brig was consequently looked upon as as fine a
vessel as any sailing out of the port of London. To the cheery sound of
the pipe, they manned the capstan bars, and singing in chorus to a merry
strain, away they ran swiftly round. A hand was sent to the helm, and
the mate was on the forecastle.

"Heave and away," he sung out, as the cable appearing up and down showed
that the anchor was under the forefoot. As the wind blew out of the
harbour