Mr. Frisbone was informed of the use to be made of the steamer; but he offered no objection. He had heard that Madeira was a good place for invalids; and very likely his wife’s sister would do as well as, if not better than, at Malaga so late in the season. He was as willing to go to Funchal as to Spain. He staid in the fire-room till six o’clock, when he had thoroughly trained both watches of firemen in their duties. During the forenoon Tom Speers saw Miss Rodwood for the first time since the stirring event of the early morning. She expressed her gratitude to him in the warmest terms, and Tom thought she was prettier than ever. “You bear a name which has been familiar to me for some years, Miss Rodwood,” said Tom, trying to turn the conversation from his own gallant deed. “Judge Rodwood was my uncle’s most intimate friend, but I have no acquaintance with his family; and possibly you are his daughter.” “I am not his daughter: he has no children. Judge Rodwood is my uncle; and he is a very intimate friend of Mr. Frisbone.” “Yes; and he was very anxious to find you, young man,” said the Prince, who joined the party in the cabin at this moment. “He was more anxious to find me than I was to have him find me,” replied Tom, laughing. “Your uncle has left you a big fortune, and appointed the judge your guardian. Didn’t you get a despatch and some letters from him?” asked the Prince. “I received a despatch and a letter from him,” replied Tom. “Then, why under the sun didn’t you answer it, or go to London at once?” demanded the Prince, who supposed he had not received any thing from the judge. Tom honestly explained why he had not opened the letter. “If you have any influence with Judge Rodwood, I hope you will use it to induce him to allow me to remain in the academy squadron,” continued Tom. “I certainly will; for I believe it is the best institution in the world,” replied the Prince heartily. “Sail on the starboard bow!” shouted the lookout in the fore-top of the Tritonia, loudly enough to be heard on board of the steamer. This announcement put an end to the conversation, for all were anxious to know whether or not the sail was the Josephine. All the glasses on board were pointed at the white spot on the ocean in the distance. A gentle breeze was blowing from the south-east, and the vessel had all sail set; but she was too far off for the officers of the steamer to determine what she was. “On board the Ville d’Angers!” shouted the officer of the deck on the Tritonia.