Dick had never seen so many ships together. To his eyes they presented a grand sight, as with colours flying and sails loosened from the yards, they were prepared to obey the signal for getting under way. He felt proud of belonging to one of the ships which had charge of so many fine vessels, many of them capable, it seemed to him, of coping with even the enemy's men-of-war. The wind suddenly came round to the northward. The _Wolf_ fired the signal gun, the anchor was hove up, her canvas was let fall and sheeted home, and she glided out of the Sound, followed in rapid succession by the merchant vessels; the _Ione_, the other frigate, bringing up the rear and acting as whipper-in to the fleet, which, as they spread out on their course down the British Channel, with their snowy canvas extended below and aloft, seemed increased in number. The signal midshipmen had work enough to do in watching the merchant vessels, and in hoisting and hauling down the bunting as the requisite signals were made, while both frigates were continually firing their guns to hasten on the laggards, or to make the faster sailing ships shorten sail. Rapid voyages were not expected to be made in those days, for the more nimble-heeled had to wait for the slower-sailing craft, while the men-of-war had to keep the whole of the vessels under their charge in sight, and as close together as circumstances would allow. The midshipmen had assembled for dinner in their berth on the day the fleet sailed, with the exception of those on duty. "Faith, Ludlam! I thought you'd have been our new third, rather than Oswald, who hasn't been in the service half as long as you have, and isn't as good a seaman by a long score," said Paddy Logan. "It's my ill luck; I've not got a marquis for a father, and must submit," answered Ludlam, shrugging his shoulders. "It's a crying shame, I say. Oh! you should have seen him come on board last night, with his new-fledged honours thick upon him, in the shape of an epaulet on his left shoulder. How he strutted about the deck, with a shaggy Newfoundland pup running after him! and how he shook hands with Curling and Jager, giving a nod to the master and old `cheese-parings,' as if he considered them scarcely worth his notice, though he did condescend to offer the tips of his fingers to Renton, our new lieutenant of marines, and to Dr O'Brien! I say, old Voules, I thought he was going to cut you altogether; but perhaps he'll honour you by giving that yelping pup of his into your charge to dry nurse. You'll not have many opportunities of paying court to him if he treats you in the fashion he does others."