Wherever I have passed, a road, a bridge, a chapel,--a something, has marked my passage. I once built a jetty in the Bay of Bourgas, betwixt Varna and Constantinople, 147 yards long, 8 yards wide, having 22 feet of water; and on it embarked 45,000 troops, 9400 horses, 140 field-guns, with ample stores, for the Crimea; and the jetty (which is still standing), and the embarkation above mentioned, all was completed in twelve weeks. It is true I was helped by a British officer, Commodore Eardley Wilmot, of her Majesty’s steamer Sphinx, but neither of us got (nor in fact wanted) anything for our pains. The pleasure of the work was sufficient payment. I merely mention these things that the reader may know that I am not a mere amateur soldier, but one who has had a practical knowledge of his work. As I said above, I was walking on the sea-shore when I was accosted by a good-looking sailor with “Sir, I am a fellow-countryman of yours, and a west-countryman to boot. I should like to shake hands; my name is Sam Rowe, and I hail from Penzance.” I expressed the pleasure, which I really felt, on making his acquaintance. After this he joined us as we proceeded in our examination of the beach. When this was over, while we were returning to the town, Mr Sam Rowe said he wanted a minute’s private talk with me. Stepping aside for that purpose, he informed me that he would be happy to take me to Cape Town if I would go in that nice little craft, pointing to a cutter in the bay. He had heard from the town-folks that I was going there, and he thought I should like to sail with him. The vessel was his, and his time too. It was impossible to reply to Mr Rowe’s eager offer by refusal, so with a shake of the hand it was arranged there and then. The conditions were that the vessel was to be mine during the trip; he and his crew, consisting of three men and a boy (his son) were to be at my orders. Of stores there were plenty--fish, poultry, and salted pork, captains’ biscuits from Plymouth, bloaters direct from Yarmouth, and real rum from Jamaica. As for the craft herself--named Mary Jane, after his little daughter at home--why, nothing afloat, from a St Michael oranger to a fifty-gun frigate, could stand with her in a gale or a breeze. All these things Captain Sam Rowe offered me, and in exchange only required the company of my humble self, and yarns from the seat of war. Two days afterwards I embarked in the Mary Jane, and found her to be a smack of forty tons. A long time ago she had been a trawler, but was now employed in the more important service of a Government transport. Captain Rowe I have already partly described. I will only add that he was dark-haired, fair-skinned, grey-eyed, about 5 feet 8 inches in height, broad-shouldered, with well-rounded limbs, daring to folly (but his folly had a method in it); and his sheet-anchor a Bible, and a stout-hearted Devonshire matron at home.