Round the decay 
    Of that colossal wreck; boundless and bare 
    The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Tuesday, April 17th. - The breeze still continued and freshened, and we sailed along pleasantly before it, finding it a great relief to be rid of the thud and beat of the engine. There is no vibration, but the noise is unpleasant. About eleven o'clock we passed the island of Perim, a most desolate-looking place. I do not wonder that officers so much dislike being quartered there. It is an important position though, and is shortly to be strengthened, when water-tanks will be built, and attempts made to cultivate the soil. At present there does not appear to be a blade of vegetation, and on the side we passed, between the island and the coast of Arabia, nothing is to be seen but the little white lighthouse and the path leading up to it. On the southern side there is a very fair harbour and a moderate town. On the shore all round the island turtles are caught at the season when they land to deposit their eggs. To pass the island of Perim we sailed through the Straits of Bab-el-Mandeb, or 'Gate of Tears,' thus called on account of the numerous wrecks which took place there in former years. Once through the straits, we were fairly in the Red Sea. The colour of the Red Sea is certainly the bluest of ultramarines. In the afternoon the town of Mocha Yamen, celebrated alike for its breed of Arab horses and its coffee, was visible from the masthead. It is a large white town, full of cupolas and minarets, surrounded with green as far as irrigation extends, and looking like a pearl set in emeralds on the margin of the deep blue sea against a background of red and yellow sand-mountains. Later in the afternoon we passed Great and Little Hamish, where the P. and O. boat, 'Alma,' was wrecked some fifteen years ago, and during the night sailed by Jebel Zibayar and Tukar.

Wednesday, April 18th. - In the morning, at daylight, we were off Jebel Teir, Mussawa Island, Annesley Bay lying 60 miles to the west. Our position was about 60 miles to the south-west of Mussawa Zoulia, where the expedition under Lord Napier of Magdala landed in 1867. At noon we had sailed 221 miles, a most unexpected run in the Red Sea. In the afternoon it fell calm, but the wind freshened again, and we went on sailing until after midnight.

Thursday, April 19th. - We commenced steaming at 1 a.m., stopped, however, at 5 a.m., and sailed all day. Yesterday we were surrounded by some beautiful blue birds, who hovered about us and settled at intervals on the masts and yards. During the night two were caught napping by the men, and in the course of to-day two more, hotly pursued by a hawk, took refuge on board and were also captured. One was given to me. It appears to be a very beautiful kind of jay, with feathers of the most brilliant shades of blue. The men have killed their birds for the sake of the skins, but I mean to try and keep mine alive. At Colombo several birds and two curiously starred tortoises were added to our collection; and we took on board at Aden a gazelle, a black cockatoo, and a green monkey.

We passed Souakim to-day, the port of Nubia. It is about 275 miles, or 25 days' camel-journey, from thence to Berber on the Nile. The road passes through Korib, and among fine red granite and black basalt mountains, 4,000 feet high. We left one of the firemen, Tom Dollar, behind at Aden by mistake, and only found out yesterday that we had done so. It appears that he has a brother living there, whom he was most anxious to go and see directly the anchor was let go, in the morning. Unfortunately, he did not speak to us on the subject. He had never been in anything but a regular steamer before, and could not believe it possible that the 'Sunbeam' could spread her wings and be off without any preliminary 'fire-worshipping,' I am very sorry for the poor man, as he has left all his clothes and the wages he had earned on board the P. and O. steamer behind him. We must send them back from Suez, and telegraph to some one to look out for him. The heat is intense, and we all sleep on deck at night; the sunrises and sunsets are magnificent.

Friday, April 20th. - A little hotter still; there is no wind at all, and we are obliged to steam. In the morning we passed to the southward of Jeddo, the port of Mecca. Unfortunately it was so hazy that we could not distinguish anything whatever of the town or country, only a line of mountains rearing their heads above the clouds. We had hoped to be at Suez early on Sunday, but now I fear we shall not arrive until Monday.

Saturday, April 21st. - Hotter and still hotter every day, says the thermometer, and so we say also. Everybody told us these would be our two hottest days, and certainly the prediction has been verified. We did not see a single ship all day, but in the afternoon passed Zambo, the port of Medina. A little before midnight we made the light on the Daedalus shoal on the starboard bow.

This being Muriel's fifth birthday, Mabelle and the doctor and the men have been arranging a surprise for her all day, and none of us were allowed to go on the port side of the deck, but after dinner we were taken to a hastily fitted-up theatre, very prettily decorated with flags and Japanese lanterns. On a throne covered with the Union Jack, Muriel was seated, the two pugs being on footstools on either side of her to represent lions couchant. Some of the men had blackened their faces, and gave us a really very excellent Christy Minstrel entertainment, in which undreamed-of talent came to light. It is very odd and interesting how one is perpetually finding out something new about the men. Some of the crew we thought the most unpromising when we started, have turned out among our best men, always ready and willing for everything, while others, who at first appeared the best, have not proved so good. Many we knew well beforehand. On the whole, however, we have very little cause to complain of our crew; all pull well together when they are kept up to their work and have plenty to do.

Sunday, April 22nd. - Clouds veiled the sunrise this morning, which was a welcome relief; still it was too hot for service in the saloon, and it was therefore held on deck. A light breeze sprang up ahead during its performance, which cooled and refreshed us immensely. About twelve o'clock we passed another pair of 'Brothers,' a couple of odd-looking rocks or islands, like tables, rising straight out of the sea; there is a beacon on the northernmost one. While we were at lunch, the breeze freshened so much that we were all glad to add some wraps to our light and airy costumes. A little later, a summer gale was blowing ahead, making some of us feel very uncomfortable and long for the halcyon days of the past, even with the accompaniment of the inevitable heat. Such is mankind, and womankind too for that matter, 'never blessed but always to be blessed.' The gale freshened, the screw was raised, the yacht pitched and rolled, and we were obliged to put her off her course and under sail before night fell. The spray came over the decks, and there was a strong wind dead ahead. We all felt cold and miserable, though the thermometer still registered 75 deg.. The poor monkeys and parrots looked most wretched and unhappy, and had to be packed away as speedily as possible. Nine monkeys in an empty wine case seemed very happy and cuddled together for warmth, but the two larger and more aristocratic members of the party required a box to themselves. The gazelle had a little tent pitched for him specially in a sheltered corner, and the birds were all stowed away and battened over in the smoking fiddle. Dinner was rather a lame pretence, and it was not long before we all retired, and certainly no one wished to take his or her mattress on deck to-night. It is the first night I have slept in a bed on board the yacht for many weeks, and a very disturbed night it was, for the waves ran high, and we have lately been sailing so steadily over smooth seas, that we did not know what to make of this.

Monday, April 23rd. - The gale blew as hard as ever, and quite as dead ahead. About noon we made the island of Shaduan, or isle of Seals, so named by the ancients, when the sea and gulf abounded with seals. There are still a few occasionally to be seen to the northward by the fishermen, and their skins are brought to Suez for sale. We are making tacks backwards and forwards across the narrow sea, an exciting amusement for a yachtsman, as it requires constant attention. The sailing directions say that this sea is ill surveyed, except in the direct channel. There are many coral reefs and sunken rocks, and on whichever side you may happen to be wrecked, the natives are ready to rob, ill-treat, and kill you, or sell you as slaves in the interior. It was on two projecting coral reefs from the island of Shaduan, that the 'Carnatic' was wrecked in 1869. She ran ashore at four o'clock in the morning of the 13th of September, soon after having made the light on Rhas Garril. We were at Suez in October of the same year, and everybody was then full of the sad particulars of the wreck, the soldiers being especially useful in bringing in the passengers' luggage, which had been recovered from the Arabs. One of our firemen, Abraham, was on board the 'Carnatic' at the time of the disaster, and lost all his worldly goods (not many, I should think, judging by what he has brought on board here).

The sea was very rough and disagreeable all day. To us the temperature appears quite cool, indeed cold, though the thermometer still remains at 75 deg. Our friends at Aden, who prophesied that I should want my sealskin jacket before leaving the Gulf of Suez, were not so far wrong in their prognostications as I imagined at the time.

Tuesday, April 24th. - We are still beating to windward against a head gale, and by noon had made sixty-five miles to the good, right in the wind's eye - not a bad performance, considering that the gale was blowing with a force of nine or ten. It has the merit of novelty too, for I suppose that for years no sailing ships have been seen in the Gulf of Suez. The winds blow so steadily for months together, that for six months in the year you cannot get into the Red Sea, and for the other six months you cannot get out of it.

We passed the island of Rhas Garril, and soon afterwards a steamer went by, altering her course a good deal to inspect us. She evidently thought we were a broken-down steamer, and intended to come to our rescue. All yesterday and to-day we have been making flannel coats for the monkey, and covers for birdcages, and improvising shelters and snug corners for our pets. At night especially the wind is quite crisp. If this gale continues, it will be Thursday or Friday before we reach Suez; but it may possibly change to-night, and it looks now as if it were breaking.

Wednesday, April 25th. - At last the gale has broken. There was not much wind when I went on deck at 4 a.m., and by seven o'clock it was so nearly calm, that the funnel could be raised and fires lighted, and we were soon steaming straight for our destination. We could not see Mount Sinai on account of the mist, but made out the place where the Israelites are said to have crossed the Red Sea, and by four o'clock the town of Suez lay right ahead. The shores are very barren, not a blade of grass nor a scrap of vegetation being visible. Nothing is to be seen save mountain peaks, rocks, stones, and sand. But even this barren scene has a special beauty of its own, particularly at sunrise and sunset. The shapes of mountain and rock are alike striking, the sharp shadows are lovely, and the contrast of reds, yellows, and browns, with the bright blue sea and crisp white waves, is very beautiful. Even when the sun has set, and the rich tints have faded away, the full moon adds another charm to the landscape.

This afternoon, as we were steaming up towards Suez, I had a chat with Mahomet, one of our Indian firemen, who was fringing a piece of muslin for a turban. I asked him if it was English. 'No, Missy; no English - Switzerland; English no good; all gum and sticky stuff; make fingers dirty; all wash out; leave nothing.' In the South Sea and Sandwich Islands, and in the Malay Peninsula, the natives make the same complaints as to the Manchester cottons. At Hongkong some of the large shops had fifty expensive English ships' compasses on hand; they were all quite unsaleable owing to the liquid having gone bad, in consequence of its not having been properly prepared. Some American compasses of the same quality were in good order and not in the least affected by the climate. It will be a bad day when the confidence in England's honesty as a nation throughout the world, and consequently her well-earned supremacy in commerce, have passed away. The burden, unfortunately, will not fall on the heads of the offenders alone, but, as usual, the innocent will suffer with and for the guilty.

After four o'clock we came near two steamers lying at anchor, and were shortly afterwards boarded by the captain of the port, the health officer, and sundry other functionaries. After a short delay we dropped anchor, and just as the sun was setting in 'purple and gold' behind the mountains of Arabia, we went ashore in the steam launch. We landed at the Canal Company's Office, in front of which there is a bust of Lieutenant Waghorn, the inaugurator of the overland route.

At the office, the 'Sunbeam' was entered on the Company's books, and arrangements were made with the chief pilot for to-morrow, while the children amused themselves by riding a pony up and down, and jumping over the little brooks, and I strolled about admiring the enormous growth of the vegetation since we were here last in 1869. We next steamed five miles further on to the town of Suez, and landed opposite the big hotel, which is more uncomfortable than ever. The rooms are dirty, and the cooking execrable.

There is nothing to see at Suez, but still we went for a ramble to see that nothing. We cleared our boxes and our letters, and then went on ankle deep in sand to the one European house, the railway station, the Arab quarter and the bazaars, where it is occasionally possible to pick up rather interesting little curiosities brought by the pilgrims from Mecca and Medina.

Thursday, April 26th. - Such a sunrise as this morning's you could only see in Arabia or Egypt. There is a peculiarity about desert colouring at sunrise and sunset that can never be seen anywhere else. We had sundry visitors during the early morning, and before ten o'clock we were in the Canal and steaming on at regulation speed. As the sun rose the heat became intense, 96 deg. in the shade under double awnings. So far from there being a cool breeze to temper it, a hot wind blew from the desert, like the blast from a furnace. I stood on the bridge as long as I could bear the heat, to look at the strange desert view, which could be seen to great advantage in going through at the top of high water. Sand, sand everywhere; here a train of camels, there a few Arab tents, now a whole party shifting their place of abode; a group of women washing, or a drove of buffaloes in a small tributary stream. After going about eight miles we stopped at a gare (as the stopping-places are called) to allow three vessels to pass. One was a fine steamer belonging to the Ducal Line; the others were a Dutch and a German boat (one, the Friesland, has been since wrecked off Cape Finisterre, in December 1877). The cleanliness and general smartness of the former presented a great contrast to her companions, on which the passengers looked very hot and uncomfortable. The centre part of each vessel was crowded with a large number of Dutch or German boys, going out as soldiers to Acheen, who certainly did not appear to be enjoying their voyage.

We passed Chaloux and reached Ismailia just at nine o'clock, not without considerable effort on the part of the pilot. A steam launch came off from the shore, and we (children and all) landed at once; and, after a moonlight donkey ride, dined at the excellent Hotel de Paris, kept by an old Frenchman. Table-d'hote was over, but they gave us a capital little dinner by ourselves. The children and I, and some of the gentlemen, start to-morrow, overland via Cairo, to join the yacht at Alexandria, in order that they may see the Pyramids. It was a glorious night as we rowed off to the yacht under the bright beams of the full moon, and the air, too, was quite fresh and cool - a most refreshing change from the noontide heat.

The traffic on the Canal has increased during the last few years, and especially during the last few months; on an average four or five ships passed through every day. To-day they took 6,000_l. at the Suez Office alone. They have an excellent plan of the Canal there, and little models of ships, which are arranged according to the telegrams constantly received, so that the chief officers at each end of the Canal know exactly where every ship is. Instant information is of course sent of any stoppage or any accident, but these occur comparatively seldom. Some time ago M. Lesseps bought a small canal partially stopped up leading from the Nile at Cairo to Ismailia. It has been widened and deepened, and was opened a few weeks ago with great ceremony and grand doings. Now any vessel not drawing more than fourteen feet can go direct from Suez or Port Said to Cairo. If we had had time, we might have done it in the yacht, and lain at anchor almost under the shadow of the Pyramids of Cheops. The special object of the new canal is to make Cairo and Ismailia Egyptian ports as well as Alexandria, thereby saving much land carriage and labour of shifting. Already several ships laden with grain, from Upper Egypt, have availed themselves of this new means of communication.

Friday, April 27th. - Another glorious sunrise. The pilot was on board at 5 a.m., and the Dhebash with fish, strawberries, and fresh vegetables. This is a beautiful climate, though there is scarcely any rain; only one very slight shower has occurred during the last three years at Suez, but the soil of the desert after the Nile overflow brings forth tenfold.

The 'Sunbeam' was to start at eight o'clock, as soon as a large vessel had passed up from Port Said. There are only certain places in the Canal where vessels can pass one another, so one ship is always obliged to wait for another. We landed at half-past seven. The sun was already blazing with a burning fury, and we found it very hot riding up to the hotel on donkeys. We had an excellent breakfast at the same comfortable hotel, paid a very moderate bill, and left by the eleven o'clock train for Cairo. We stopped at Zag-a-zig for an hour for luncheon in a nice cool dark room, and started again about three o'clock. The change in the face of the country since we were here eight years ago is something extraordinary. A vast desert of sand has been transformed into one large oasis of undulating fields of waving corn, where there used to be nothing but whirlwinds of sand. All this has been effected by irrigation. The wealth of Egypt ought greatly to increase. How the people managed to live before is a mystery. Now every field is full of labourers reaping and stacking the corn, women gleaning, and in some places the patient, ugly black buffaloes ploughing the stubble for fresh crops.

At half-past six we reached Cairo, and were conveyed in a large char-a-bancs to what was formerly Shepherd's Hotel, now partly rebuilt and much altered for the better. Even in that short drive we could see that the face of the capital of Egypt had altered as much as the country, though I am not sure that it is so greatly improved. After a refreshing dip in cool marble baths and a change of garments, we went down to the large table-d'hote. Then we sat in the verandah looking on the street until we became tired of doing nothing, after which we started for a stroll in the Ezkebieh gardens close by. They are beautifully laid out for evening promenade; but although the flowers are lovely, and the turf, thanks to constant waterings, is deliciously green, all the large trees have been cut down. There is no seclusion, no shade, which seems a pity in a country where the greatest desire of life is shelter from the noonday heat. To-night both Arab and French bands were playing within the enclosure, and it was pleasant enough listening to Offenbach's music under the beams of the full moonlight. Few people appeared to appreciate it, however, for the gardens were nearly empty; but then the season is over, and every one has fled before the coming heat.

Saturday, April 28th. - We had settled to start at six o'clock this morning to visit the Pyramids, an excursion which had been for some little time eagerly looked forward to and talked about by the younger members of our party. The morning was cold and grey, a strong northerly wind was blowing, and the change from the weather which had prevailed but a few hours previously was altogether most striking and unexpected. We drove rapidly through the streets and the outskirts of the town, where old houses are being pulled down and new ones rapidly built up, and where a general air of new bricks and old rubbish pervades the scene. Then we crossed the Nile by a handsome iron bridge, and saw the Palace of Gezireh, where the Prince of Wales and his suite were lodged. We passed the railway extension works, and, to the great delight of the children, saw two elephants busily employed, one of which was being made to lie down to enable his mahout to dismount. Soon the little ones gave a shout of 'The Pyramids!' and there before us stood those grand monuments of a nameless founder, which for centuries have stood out in the sands of the desert, while the burning African sun and the glorious African moon have risen and set on their heavenward-pointing summits for countless days and nights. Even the earth has changed her position so much since they were erected that the pole star no longer sheds its light in a direct line through the central passages, as it did when first they were designed.

We drove along under avenues of now leafless trees to the foot of the hill on which the Pyramids are situated. Here everybody was turned out to walk except Muriel and me, and a tremendous tug the horses had to drag even us two up to the real foot of the Pyramids. On arriving we were at once surrounded by a crowd of Arabs. They are certainly a fine-looking lot of men, rather clamorous for backshish, and anxious to sell their curiosities, real or imitation. They were, however, good-natured, civil, and obliging, and amused me much during the hour I spent alone with them while the rest of the party were ascending and descending the Pyramids. Many could speak several languages quite fluently, and almost all of them took a good deal of interest in the war, and the prospects of success on either side; while many had a fair knowledge of the geography of Europe. While all the rest were on the top of the one large Pyramid, a man ran down from the summit and up to the top of the next smaller one (which is, however, more difficult to ascend) in 'eight minutes for a franc' This feat was repeated several times by different men, but it really occupied nearer ten minutes.

We ate some bread and wine, bought a few curiosities, and then drove back to the city, feeling very cold and shivery and regretting the wraps we had left behind. We reached the hotel just in time for twelve o'clock table-d'hote breakfast, and, after an acceptable rest, sallied forth again, this time on donkeys, to see the bazaars and the sunset from the citadel. We went across squares and gardens and through wide streets, for, alas! Cairo is being rapidly Haussmannised. For the capitalist or resident, Cairo may be improved, but for the traveller, the artist, the lover of the picturesque, the quaint, and the beautiful, the place is ruined. Cairo as a beautiful and ancient oriental city has ceased to exist, and is being rapidly transformed into a bad imitation of modern Paris, only with bluer skies, a more brilliant sun, and a more serene climate than it is possible to find in Europe. Only a few narrow streets and old houses are still left, with carved wooden lattices, where you can yet dream that the 'Arabian Nights' are true.

We went to the gold and silver bazaar, and bought some quaint silver jewellery from Assouan, Soudan, and Abyssinia; then through the Turkish bazaar, the saddlery bazaars, past mosques and old houses, till at length we emerged into new squares and new streets, before climbing the hill to the citadel, the Viceroy's palace, and the splendid Mosque of Mehemet Ali, built of Egyptian alabaster. The view from the terrace is superb, over city, desert, river, palm-trees, and Pyramids. The sunset this evening was a disappointment; yellow, cold, and watery, a strong north wind bringing up all the sand from the desert. We returned to the hotel for dinner, and were all glad to go early to bed.

Sunday, April 29th. - The children and I went to the English church, a semi-Gothic building, without a single window which could open. Though the church was nearly empty, the air felt like that of an exhausted receiver, and made one gasp. In the cool of the afternoon we drove through Roulai, where the museum stands, in a beautiful garden close by the riverside, amid flowers in full bloom.

After an early meal (hardly to be called dinner) we went to the station, just as all the people were going for a drive to Shoubrah in the smartest carriages and the prettiest toilets.

Our journey to Alexandria in the evening was cool and pleasant. A huge break met us, and we drove to Abbat's Hotel - considerably improved since our last visit in 1869.

Monday, April 30th. - Got up at 5 a.m. After a deliciously soft but very muddy bath, I went for a donkey ride before breakfast with Mabelle. Tom arrived from the yacht in time for twelve o'clock breakfast, and announced the voyage from Port Said to have been rough and unpleasant.

We called on the Consul, the Vice-Consul, and our old friend, Consul Burton of Trieste, Haj Abdullah. He has just returned from a journey through the ancient land of Midian, undertaken at the special request of the Viceroy. He describes the expedition as having been most successful; the climate is almost perfect from September to May; the land is well watered by little streams flowing through fertile valleys, and full of fragrant flowers and luscious fruits. The corn reaches above the camel-men's heads, which means a height of fourteen or fifteen feet. But the mineral wealth of the country is its most extraordinary feature. He found traces of gold in the sand of the river-beds, in spots pointed out to him by his fellow-pilgrims on the way to Mecca twenty years ago, to say nothing of tin, iron, &c. Perhaps the most interesting part of his discovery was the remains of eight ruined cities with traces in the dry river-beds of stone-crushing and gold-seeking apparatus, which must have been used centuries ago. He is writing a book on the subject, which you may perhaps see before you read this.

The Consul kindly sent a janissary with us to show us the Sultan's palace. It is large and bare of furniture; and the general style of decoration is like that of the palaces at Cherniga and Dolma Batscher. Thence we went to see Pompey's Pillar and Cleopatra's Needle, the dahabeas ready to go up the Nile, &c.; and returned to the hotel in time for dinner and a chat afterwards in the cool courtyard.

Tuesday, May 1st. - I wrote from 3 a.m. to 6.30 a.m., in order to send letters off by the French mail, and at seven Mabelle and I sallied forth on donkeys to visit the market. There was not much to see, however, everything being so crowded and jammed up, meat, fish, vegetables, and fruit, all close together. The crowd was amusing, as all the European householders had negroes or Arabs following them, laden with their purchases. We found some lovely flowers in a street near the market, and then we went on to the big gold and silver bazaar, and to the Turkish and Syrian bazaars, where we saw all the specialities of Constantinople, and Broussa, Damascus, and Jerusalem laid out before us. After breakfast, the antics of two enormous apes, who came round on a donkey, accompanied by a showman and a boy, amused the children much. They were hideously ugly, but the cleverest monkeys I ever saw. They went through a regular little play, quarrelled with one another; the man and the boy rode the ape, and made him kick; at last the ape was hurt, and lay fainting in the man's arms, limp and languid, just able to sip a little water; then he died, and dropped down stiff, with his eyes shut. His tail was pulled, his lips and eyelids were forced open, but he never winked an eyelid or moved a hair of his whiskers. He was thrown about from side to side, remaining perfectly motionless till, at a sign from his master, he jumped up as well as ever, shouldered his gun, and mounted his ass to take his departure. He was promptly ordered to dismount and ask for backshish, which he did, cap in hand. Some of the crowd round about not contributing to his master's satisfaction, the ape took a nasty venomous-looking little snake out of a bag which he carried over his shoulder, and threw it among the bystanders, to their great consternation.

At two o'clock we went to lunch with the Consul, and what a pleasant lunch it was, prepared by a French cook, and eaten in a cool, airy, and shady room free from flies, which were kept out by fine wire gauze placed in front of each well-shaded door and window! The table was one mass of the roses for which Alexandria is so famous. Everybody had wandered about the world more or less, everybody was in good spirits, and we laughed and chatted and talked sense or nonsense as the fancy took us, till it was time to go on board the yacht en masse, and receive some visitors at tea. A few had arrived before us, but the children and some others of the party were on board and had been doing the honours and showing them round. About 5.30 p.m. our last guests departed, and all was ready for a start; but, alas! we had to wait for an absent steward, who had gone in search of the always late linen, that plague of the poor yachtsman's life when he has a large party on board. The sun was sinking fast, the wind was blowing fresh and fair, and if we did not start soon it would be impossible to do so at all, and a night's work of more than 120 miles would be lost. At last the welcome boat was seen coming from the shore; we unmoored, and went ahead for about an hour. But the light gradually faded away; it became impossible to distinguish the beacon; the sand banks are numerous, and there are no lights. It was only endangering the ship and the lives of all on board to proceed; so the order was reluctantly given, 'Hard a-port.' Round she went in her own length almost, and very soon we let go the anchor just outside our old moorings, and spent the night, after all, in the harbour of Alexandria.