I was still asleep when a gentle touch upon the shoulder dispelled my uneasy slumbers, and the faithful follower of my uncle’s fortunes told me it was time to dress, and that the camarados of my intended voyage and campaigns were afoot, and waiting in the court-yard. Indeed, the ratcatcher’s presence was intimated already--for in perfect indifference as to what might be the complexion of our future fortune, Shemus Rhua was croning an Irish ditty. I dressed by candlelight, descended to the eating-room, and there found “mine honoured uncle.” Alas--Isidora was not there to say farewell. She slept, poor girl, little dreaming that we had already parted; and that many a month and stormy passage in a soldier’s life must wear away, before I should be permitted to return and claim her plighted hand. “Hector,” said my uncle, with a sigh, as he received the papers he had entrusted to me, and immediately committed them to the fire, “you are now in full possession of every secret of my life. ‘Tis done--the disclosure is made--and I have nothing either to communicate or conceal. No more of this; the clock chimes,--and our hour of parting hurries on. I am going to deprive you of a follower, provided you can dispense with the services of Captain Macgreal, and that he is willing to transfer his allegiance to me. Pray step down; and if the ratcatcher has no particular objection, let me have his valuable assistance till you return. ‘Strange fortunes produce strange bedfellows,’ a proverb says; and singular positions require as singular agents. Odd as it may appear, in the tangled web I shall have to unravel, I may be beholden for success to that wild woman who seems devoted to your interests, or this wandering personage, who appeal’s equally attached, and willing to follow where you lead.” A brief communication with Shemus Rhua effected my uncle’s wish; and the ratcatcher placed his services at the disposal of Mr. Hartley. Sooth to say, the captain’s previous experience of a martial life had left no craving in his breast after “the bubble reputation.” Nothing could be more picturesque than the departure of the fleet from Portsmouth; and years afterwards, memory recalled the poet’s description, and I could have imagined that Byron had been a fellow-passenger. The morning was brilliant. The signal gun was answered. All were immediately under way. “I ween, a full fair sight; When the fresh breeze was fair as breeze can be, The white sail set, the gallant frigate tight, Masts, spires, and strand retiring to the right, The glorious main expanding o’er the bow, The convoy spread like wild swans in their flight, The dullest sailor wearing bravely now; So gaily curl the waves before each dashing prow.”