say why; but the rapid motion served to warm
my blood, so that when I reached the hotel, I
felt more assured and more resolute.

Rogers was asleep, and so soundly that I
had to pull the pillow from beneath his head
before I could awaken him; and when I had
accomplished the feat, either the remote effect
of his last brandy-and-water, or his drowsiness,
had so obscured his faculties that all he could
mumble out was, "Hit him where he can't be
spliced—hit him where they can't splice him!"
I tried for a long time to recal him to sense
and intelligence, but I got nothing from him
save the one inestimable precept; and so I went
to my room, and throwing myself on my bed in
my cloak, prepared for a night of gloomy
retrospect and gloomier anticipation; but, odd
enough, I was asleep the moment I lay down.

"Get up, old fellow," cried Rogers, shaking
me violently, just as the dawn was breaking;
"we're lucky if we can get aboard before they
catch us."

"What do you mean?" said I. " What's
happened?"

"The governor has got wind of our shindy,
and put all the red-coats in arrest, and ordered
the police to nab us too."

"Bless him! bless him!" muttered I.

"Ay, so say I. He be blessed!" cried he,
catching up my words; "but let us make off
through the garden; my gig is down in the
offing, and they'll pull in when they hear my
whistle. Ain't it provoking—ain't it enough to
make a man swear?"

"I have no words for what I feel, Rogers,"
said I, bustling about to collect my stray articles
through the room. "If I ever chance upon
that governor—he has only five years of it—I
believe——"

"Come along! I see the boat coming round
the point yonder." And with this we slipped
noiselessly down the stairs, down the street,
and gained the jetty.

"Steam up?" asked the skipper, as he
jumped into the gig.

"Ay, ay, sir; and we're short on the
anchor, too."

In less than half an hour we were under weigh,
and I don't think I ever admired a land prospect
receding from view with more intense delight
than I did that, my last glimpse of Malta.

CHAPTER XLVIII.

OUR voyage had nothing remarkable to
record: we reached Constantinople in due course,
and during the few days the Cyclops remained
I had abundant time to discover that there
was no trace of any one resembling him I
sought for. By the advice of Rogers, I
accompanied him to Odessa. There, too, I was not
more fortunate; and though I instituted the
most persevering inquiries, all I could learn was
that some Americans were employed by the
Russian Government in raising the frigates
sunk at Sebastopol, and that it was not impossible
an Englishman, such as I described, might
have met an engagement amongst then. At
all events, one of the coasting craft was already
at Odessa, and I went on board of her to make
my inquiry. I learned from the mate, who was
a German, that they had come over on rather a
strange errand, which was to convey a corps of
circus people to Balaclava. The American
contractor at that place being in want of some
amusement, had arranged with those people to
give some weeks' performances there, but that,
from an incident that had just occurred, the
project had failed. This was no less than the
elopement of the chief dancer, a young girl of
great beauty, with a young Prince of Bavaria.
It was rumoured that he had married her, but
my informant gave little credence to this version,
and averred that he believed he had bought,
not only herself, but a favourite old Arab horse
she rode, for thirty thousand piastres. I asked
eagerly where the others of the corps were to
be found, and heard they had crossed over to
Simoom, all broken up and disjointed, the chief
clown having died of grief after the girl's flight.

If I heard this tale rudely narrated, and not
always with the sort of comment that went
with my sympathies, I sorrowed sincerely over
it, for I guessed upon whom these events had
fallen, and recognised poor old Vaterchen and
the dark-eyed Tintefleck.

"You've fallen into the black melancholies
these some days back," said Rogers to me.
"Rouse up, and take a cruise with me. I'm
going over to Balaclava with these steam-boilers,
and then to Sinope, and so back to the Bosphorus.
Come aboard to-night, it will do you good."

I took his counsel, and at noon next day we
dropped anchor at Balaclava. We had scarcely
passed our "health papers," when a boat came
out with a message to inquire if we had a
doctor on board who could speak English, for
the American contractor had fallen from one of
the scaffolds that morning, and was lying dreadfully
injured up at Sebastopol, but unable to
explain himself to the Russian surgeons. I
was not without some small skill in medicine;
and, besides, out of common humanity, I felt it
my duty to set out, and at about sunset I reached
Sebastopol.

Being supposed to be a physician of great
skill and eminence, I was treated by all the
persons about with much deference, and, after
very few minutes' delay, introduced into the
room where the sick man lay. He had ordered
that when an English doctor could be found,
they were to leave them perfectly alone together;
so that as I entered, the door was closed
immediately, and I found myself alone by the bedside
of the sufferer. The curtain was closely drawn
across the windows, and it was already dusk, so
that all I could discover was the figure of a man
who lay breathing very heavily, and with the
irregular action that implies great pain.

"Are you English?" said he, in a strong,
full voice. "Well, feel that pulse, and tell me
if it means sinking—I suspect it does."

I took his hand and laid my finger on the
artery. It was beating furiously—far too fast
to count, but not weakly nor faintly.