Everything was quiet then, and not a breath of wind ruffled the water. Presently there was a sign of life in the men-of-war, the Octavia, Serapis, and Argus. Men began to climb the rigging, and to fasten man-lines above the yards. Then they came down again, and all was quiet on board the men-of-war; but the merchant-vessels were now making a move, and the native boats were putting off towards the ships they were told off to discharge. In the mean time the guard of honour and the officers took their places at the head of the bunder. Now a signal is run up to the mast-head of the Octavia, and, as if by magic, a crowd of white figures leap up the shrouds of the men-of-war, and run out upon the yards. Another minute of silence, and then a boat with an awning pulls out from the after-side of the Octavia, and a few seconds afterwards the thunder of her guns tells us that the Chief of the invading army has left the ship. Three minutes later the little guns of the mountain train proclaim that he has landed; the band strikes up “God save the Queen,” the troops salute, and Sir Robert Napier has taken command of the forces here. After all, this is more a ceremony than a reality, for the General has been ashore examining into all that was going on every day since he came into harbour. There is a great feeling of satisfaction at his arrival, as, in the first place, he is a most popular chief, and in the next, nothing definite could be decided upon as to the movements of troops or on the plan of the campaign until he arrived. The _on dit_ now is that no more troops will be sent forward at present, but that the whole efforts of the transport corps and commissariat will be devoted to accumulating a six months’ stock of provisions at Senafe. The 33d have already gone on; but it is now probable that no other regiment will move for another fortnight.