Portsmouth, its spires, batteries, and ultramural line of magnificent, but now obsolete, batteries and casemates, its masts and shipping, was becoming shrouded in the golden haze of evening, and the farewell greetings of the women on board the harbour craft and those of the youthful tars of the old _St. Vincent_ had died away astern; but cheers rose in volleys, if we may use the term, when the _Bannockburn_ neared Cowes, where the Queen--the Queen herself--was known to be in the _Alberta_ yacht, which had the Royal Standard floating at her mainmast head, and every heart beat high as the vessels neared each other, and the Queen--a small figure in black--was seen amid a group waving her handkerchief. Roland had only two buglers on board, but these poured forth the Royal Anthem with right good will from their perch in the foretop, while instead of the boatswain's shrill whistle the steam siren was sounded. The Royal yacht steamed round the towering trooper, which slackened speed, and the signal fluttered out, 'You may proceed.' Once more the hearty cheers responded to each other over the water; again the little white handkerchief was seen to wave as the yacht led the way down the Solent and through Spithead, that famous reach and roadstead, the rendezvous of our fleets in time of war. 'Farewell, God speed you!' came the signal from the yacht once more, and the _Bannockburn_ stood out to sea under the lee of the beautiful Isle of Wight. The boats were all finally secured; the anchors hauled close up to the cat-heads by the cat-fall; the forecourse and maintopsail were set to accelerate her speed, and the troop-ship stood on her voyage down the Channel. The high excitement of the last few hours had now completely passed away. On deck the half-hushed groups of soldiers in their gray greatcoats were lingering, watching the occasional twinkling of the shore lights, taking their last look of old England; and when night had completely fallen, and the bugles had blown tattoo, the Mother of Nations had faded out in the distance as the ship gave the land a wide berth. Weary with the unintermitting toil and bustle of the day, Roland, after mess, betook himself with a cigar to his own little cabin; a small substitute certainly for the luxuries of Earlshaugh, as was his sole retinue now, for the staff there; his single soldier-servant by this time had made his bed, arranged his toilette and sea-going kit, and put the entire place in the most perfect order; and of old, Roland knew well how invaluable a thorough soldier-servant is.