eman, bowing to me politely, took his departure
from Sheerness dockyard, which I also left soon afterwards, pleased with
all that I had seen and more than glad of having visited the place if
only for the chance it afforded me of hearing his yarn.

CHAPTER THREE.

THE GREEK BANDIT.

A REMINISCENCE OF A YACHTING CRUISE IN THE AEGEAN SEA.

Some few years ago, when I was a youngster, I had what was then the
great desire of my heart gratified by being allowed to accompany a party
on a yachting cruise to the Mediterranean.

How I enjoyed myself, and how tragically our cruise nearly terminated, I
will now proceed to tell.

There were six of us in all on board the yacht. There was dad, one;
Captain Buncombe, two; Mr Joe Moynham, three; Bob, four; myself,
Charley, five; and dog Rollo, six--though I think, by rights, I ought to
have counted Rollo first, as he was the best of us all, and certainly
thought the least of himself--brave, fine, black, curly old fellow that
he was!

Just as you fellows in England were having the nastiest part of the
winter, when there is no skating or snowballing, and only drenching rain
and easterly winds, that bring colds and coughs and mumps, we were
enjoying the loveliest of blue skies and jolly warm weather, that made
swimming in the sea a luxury, and ices after dinner seem like a taste of
nectar. We did enjoy ourselves; and had a splendid cruise up the old
Mediterranean, going everywhere and seeing everything that was to be
seen. Oh, it was jolly! The yacht stopped at Gibraltar, where we
climbed the rock and saw the monkeys that lived in the caverns on the
top; at Malta, where we went up the "Nothing to Eat" stairs mentioned in
_Midshipman Easy_: and then, sailing up the Levant, the _Moonshine_--she
was eighty tons, and the crack of the RYS--was laid up at anchor for a
long time at Alexandria, while we went ashore, going through the Suez
Canal, across the desert to Cairo, and thence to the pyramids, after
which we started for Greece.

You must know, before we get any further, that Bob and I didn't want to
go anywhere near Greece at all! We had good reasons for this dislike.
There were dad and Captain Buncombe--who was what people call an
archaeologist, fond of grubbing up old stones and skeletons, and digging
like an old mole amongst ruins--continually talking all day long about
Marathon and Hymettus, the Parthenon and Chersonese, the Acropolis, and
Theseus and Odysseus and all