It had been the intention of the pilot who had taken over charge of the _Pandora_ at Gravesend to have come to an anchor off Southend, but as the breeze chopped round to the southward, and seemed likely to remain for some time in that direction, the vessel continued her course. The fore and aft sails were run up, and the topsails loosed, and before ten o’clock the Nore Light was passed, and she was towed out into the open sea. All that night the two vessels pursued their journey together, and early the next morning brought up with a head-wind in the Downs. Some of the passengers had already succumbed to the long, steady roll of the _Pandora_, as she swayed from side to side, sometimes dipping her martingale deep into the swells, and rising gracefully again before making another plunge. The smell of the new paint and varnish, the ‘swash’ of the water as it rushed against the sides of the ship, the swinging of the trays and lamps that were suspended to a brass rod, no less than the long sweeping rock of their new cradle, all combined to produce a queer sensation in their throats, which gave them a difficulty in swallowing, and a dizziness in their heads, which prevented their walking about lest their unseaworthy legs should bring them to the ground. But the captain of the _Pandora_ steadily paced the weather side, heedless of the groans of his unfortunate passengers, and thinking only of the wind that had compelled the pilot to drop the anchor in that unlucky hour. Uneasily he moved to and fro, occasionally giving vent to an unmusical grunt, as his eyes roved along the horizon, and over the South Foreland and Walmer Castle. Captain Robarts was a man of stunted growth of much the same build as his chief officer, but both broader and shorter. His figure approached insignificance, and his features were coarse and forbidding. His hands, horny from manual labour and hairy and freckled from exposure, were generally carried well down in the pockets of his monkey-jacket, from which he seldom extricated them. He was a good navigator and a diligent officer, but he was not a smart sailor. Had his duties required activity, he would have failed in fulfilling them, but as his sole work was to prick out the chart and give his orders, little fault could be found with him on that score. In manner he was voted on all sides to be a bear. He never addressed his passengers except when absolutely obliged to do so, confining his conversation to the officers of the vessel; and if any lady or gentleman ventured to ask him a question on the most ordinary subject, his answer was generally conveyed by a low grunt, as he turned away to the sacred precincts of the bridge, where none but those on business were allowed to follow him.