Early one morning a treacherous squall burst upon the _Pandora_, which threw her for a few seconds on her beam ends, till she was righted by the cool pluck of Mr Coffin, who ordered the halliards to be let go; and perceiving the yards would not come down, took charge of the helm himself, and shivered the weather leeches, which righted the ship, though she sailed within an inch of being taken flat aback, and losing her sticks. When she was out of danger, Captain Robarts considered it necessary to stay the vessel, as she was many points out of her course, and the order was given to ‘’bout ship.’ The decks were now dry, and the breeze fresh and invigorating. The passengers had crowded on the knife-board to see the _Pandora ‘turned round’_--an operation which was new to them. The ropes were cleared for running, and the hands stationed; and when clean full ‘Sea-oh!’ was passed to the chief mate, who, with a few men, was standing by to ease off the jib sheets on the topgallant forecastle. When within a point and a half of the wind, and the sails were hugging the masts, the order was shouted to ‘crossjack haul,’ and the hands of the main fiferail gathered in the slack of the braces, which whizzed and cracked through the blocks at the opposite side, as the heavy yards swung round. But when square the lower yard brought up with a sudden jerk, and refused to be pointed. ‘What’s foul?’ roared Captain Robarts. ‘There’s something in the starboard crossjack braceblock, sir,’ replied the third officer. ‘Send a hand up to clear it, then,’ bawled the irate skipper. Now it happened that the ship’s washerwoman had taken advantage of the recent rainy weather to collect a quantity of fresh water, and that very morning had hung her clean linen to dry on a small line suspended over the deck, between the main shrouds. The velocity of the braces as they ran up aloft made them twist and curl and assume fantastic shapes, and as they careered in close proximity to the wet clothing, a mysterious garment was caught up, and became jammed in the block. One of the sailors ran up the ratlines, and clambered into the top; and, by a strong pull from below, the garment was disengaged. The language of the officers was high Dutch to the passengers assembled on the poop, but from the visible excitement of the captain, they guessed that something must have gone wrong, and watched the seaman curiously, as he hastened up the rope ladder. ‘What is it?’ shouted the skipper, as he saw the block was cleared. The sailor in the maintop did not answer, but glanced slyly down at his shipmates, and then at the red flannel garment he held in his hand; whilst the ladies and gentlemen stood in a group together, and looked on with breathless interest. ‘It is something _red_!’ exclaimed Alice Leyton, who was very close to Captain Lovell. ‘What on earth can it be? Is it a flag, Jack?’ she asked of Vernon, who stood just below them.