"Here, my boy," said he, "is a letter from my friend Lascelles, your old captain. He says--let me see what he says. Oh! here it is. `I cannot find the address of Jack Rogers, so pray tell him to come down to Portsmouth at once and join the _Ranger_. I have just been appointed to her, to go out as commodore on the African station. Let his outfit be got ready accordingly. I have no doubt that he will find some opportunity of distinguishing himself; and as he has already served four years, there is a fair chance of his getting his promotion when he returns home.' The rest is private," observed the admiral, when he had concluded this somewhat laconic epistle. "And now, Jack, I congratulate you, my lad," he continued. "You have been quite long enough on shore to rub up your shore manners, and that is as long as a midshipman ought to remain at home. How soon shall you be ready?" "In ten days or a fortnight I think that I could get his shirts and flannel waistcoats made, and his socks marked, and his--" "I beg your pardon, my dear madam, but by that time the _Ranger_ may be halfway across the Bay of Biscay. Ten or fourteen hours you should say. He must go and see his ship fitted out. He'll never be at home in her unless he does. Well, well, then the day after to-morrow I intend to go down with him. I enjoyed my last trip so much that I would not miss the opportunity of seeing him on board his new ship. I know what you would say, my dear madam, but a longer delay would be objectionable. Rogers will agree with me. There, it is settled, so let us say no more about the matter."