The Royalist at last arrived: she had but few letters, but, valuable and dear to us as letters always were, she brought intelligence that made every heart, except one, beat with delight. Was it possible? Yes, it was true--true! We were _ordered home_. Oh, the delight, the frantic joy, which was diffused through the whole ship. To have witnessed the scene we should have been considered as mad. Every one embracing one another, shaking hands, animosities reconciled at once, all heart-burnings forgotten: we could have hugged every thing we met--dogs, monkeys, pigs--except the captain. All our sufferings and privations were forgotten in the general ecstasy, and, although thousands of leagues were still to be run before we could arrive at the desired goal, and months must pass away, time and space were for the time annihilated, and, in our rapture, we fancied and we spoke as if we were within reach of our kindred and our homes. Could it be the Samarang that we were on board of?--the same ship that we were in not one hour ago?--the silent, melancholy vessel, now all hands laughing, screaming, huzzaing, dancing, and polkaing up and down the deck like maniacs? And then when the excitement was a little over, and we became more rational, Why were we ordered home? was the first surmise. We had been sent out on a seven years' expedition, and we had not yet been out four. The surveys were not half finished. Was it the row that the captain had had with the admiral, and the reports of many officers who had quitted the ship? We made up our minds at last that it must have been upon the representations of the admiral to the Admiralty that we had been ordered home. There could be no other reason. We drank his health in nine times nine. [Illustration: ILLANOAN PIRATE. (TAMPASSOOK, BORNEO.) F. M. DELT. M. N. HANHART LITH. PRINTERS LONDON; LONGMAN & CO. 1848]