_Arrogant_ sailed for Sierra Leone and Gambia to quell disturbance by King Badiboo. Inspected the “island of forbidding appearance,” without water or wood, and formerly regarded as an impracticable heap of ashes. Ascension is now in a state of improvement as to its resources, natural and artificial. Government buildings of stone, neat and substantial, consisting of store-house, hospital, a good smith’s shop, mess-room and barracks; but the chief interests of the island are centred in turtle. The first part of a tolerably good road has been made between hills of cinders and along plains of ashes, dust, and lava. Green Mountain is nearly in the centre of the island, 2818 feet above the sea; rising, as the Directory terms it, a “graceful oasis amidst waste and desolation”; from it you look down on some forty hills of cinders, each of which has in its turn contributed to the supply of lava and ashes; but now, with the assistance of planting and cultivation attracting rain, it is rapidly progressing. There appear to be about 2000 acres in pasture, planted, or under cultivation. Cattle, and occasionally horses are bred, but sheep appear to thrive best. In addition to seven or eight milch cows, the Government farm can boast of two bulls, thirty oxen, and about eleven thousand sheep. [Sidenote: Jan. 22.] Weighed. [Sidenote: Feb. 6.] Came to in Sierra Leone. Found _Arrogant_. Saluted authorities and landed, receiving due honours. [Sidenote: Feb. 11.] Arrived H.M.S. _Falcon_, under command of Lieutenant Bagge, Commander Arthur Fitzroy having died of fever. At this sad event I am deeply grieved. It was only in the Crimea that I attended the deathbed of his elder brother: one of a family through whose care and kindness I, as a midshipman, recovered from this deadly African fever. I appointed my Flag Lieutenant, Algernon C. F. Heneage, to poor Arthur Fitzroy’s vacancy in the _Falcon_. She was lying in the river, where there was nothing above the surface to be seen moving but sharks’ fins. The new Commander was well got up, as was his wont, even to kid gloves. Just as his four-oared gig was getting alongside, one of the boys missed his footing and disappeared. In a moment Heneage unbuckled his sword, dived and saved the boy. He read his commission at the capstan in his muddy suit--a good beginning!--and returned on board _Forte_ to dine with his old Chief. For this gallant deed the Humane Society awarded Heneage a medal. It was now my painful duty to write the following official letter:-- “FORTE,” AT SIERRA LEONE, _February 11, 1861_. To the Secretary of the Admiralty.