aged in shortening sail to get out my letter. When I
was at last able to go below, I hurried to my bag, intending to add a
postscript, but what was my dismay to be unable to find it.

I felt again and again, and then turned out all my things, but could
nowhere discover the missing epistle. I hastened to try and obtain
another sheet of paper from the purser's steward, but he was just then
too much engaged to attend to me, and directly after I got it my watch
was called and I had to return on deck.

The moment my watch was over, I went below and, as well as I could,
began writing. It was no easy matter in the dim light and hubbub going
on around me. I finished it, however, telling my dear wife all that had
occurred, how miserable I was at being separated from her, and my hopes,
while I remained in the Channel cruiser, of being allowed to get on
shore some day, even though we might be together but for a few short
hours. The letter was closed and wafered; I rushed on deck with it, but
only to find that the last boat from the shore had shoved off, and the
next instant the hands were turned up to make sail.

I felt more inclined than I had ever done since my childhood to burst
into tears. I think I should have done so from very vexation and
disappointment, had I not been obliged to hurry to my station, putting
my letter in my pocket as I did so.

It was trying, every one will allow, for all this time my dear wife
could not tell what had become of me. My other friends might think me
dead, but I knew that she would never believe that to be the case until
she had strong evidence of the fact. Even if she had, I felt sure
nothing would ever induce her to marry again.

The wind was fair up Channel. Arriving nearly abreast of the Start
Point, we ran out to the southward, the captain hoping to fall in with
one of the two French frigates which a short time before we and the
_Venus_ had chased into Cherbourg. One of the two was, as I before
said, the _Semillante_, the other was the _Cleopatra_.

On the morning of the 18th of June, just as day broke, the Start bearing
east by north, distant five or six leagues, we discovered a sail in the
south-east quarter, and immediately afterwards bore up in chase,
carrying all the canvas we could set. As we approached the stranger, we
felt nearly sure that she was the very French frigate we were in search
of. She was under all sail, some of us thought, for the purpose of
getting a