A small crowd of friends and relations were here gathered together, anxious to have a last look at those dear ones who were going so far away, perhaps never to return. Some were brave enough to step aboard, and go down as far as Gravesend, where the vessel was to wait a couple of hours. But others were detained by work or business in London, and could not afford to indulge their inclination. All had time, however, while the _Pandora_ slowly crawled through the narrow entrance, to whisper their last farewells--to implore the travellers ‘to be sure to write,’ and tell them all their news--to wish them a prosperous voyage, and, above all, to give them a warm grip of the hand, or a parting kiss. Ah! these long uncertain partings are very Death in Life. They have all the agony of Death about them, and none of its peace. They are the most cruel trials this miserable world affords us! When the vessel was clear of the docks, and had glided into the broad river, the helm was put to starboard, and her head pointed eastward--then the hawser gradually ‘taughtened’ as the tug went ahead, and many of the passengers, realising that they were really ‘off,’ strained their eyes, brimming with tears, towards the shore, and with a choking sensation in their throats, waved their handkerchiefs as a last farewell to the friends they had left behind them. But their emotion soon subsided as they watched the lively scene spread out upon all sides. It is those who stay at home who feel parting most. The river was alive with barges, which had taken advantage of the wind to stem the tide. Large passenger steamers took their way carefully amongst the smaller craft, and channel and river boats plied fussily backwards and forwards, with groaning deckloads of gaily-dressed pleasure seekers. Large wooden ships lay moored to the buoys, discharging blue casks of petroleum, and in their wake fruiters and colliers were similarly employed. Trinity boats, with their decks crowded with red and white buoys, had made fast under the shears, and innumerable tugs, and ferryboats, and watermen were waiting for something to ‘turn up.’ At two o’clock Gravesend was reached, where dozens of vessels had come to a standstill, and half-an-hour afterwards the _Pandora_ was brought up and moored to a buoy close to the red powder-hulks, with her burgee flying at the masthead. The powder having been brought alongside in lighters, laden with small wooden tubs, a double line of men was ranged from the port to the locker, and the kegs quickly passed along. Whilst the powder was being taken in, a boat pulled by four men approached the vessel. In her stern were seated the coxswain, and another man who was evidently a passenger. When she reached the _Pandora’s_ side the gangway was lowered, and the mysterious stranger who had chosen this late hour to arrive, ascended the ladder.