was running short, and he had a fancy that light Italian wines might suit his palate. At Malta they halted of course. Jellybags had plenty of business to transact in the Strada Stretta. But these days at Malta were full of excruciating torture to Alured, for he had there met a young officer like himself, who had been actually detained at Malta, as too young to go on. Frere ran back from Joe Micalet's straight to the Sailor Queen, and hid himself. He neglected altogether the introductions given him by his father and Lord Moynehan. He did not dare go on shore to present them. And one was to the general in command, Alured's chief enemy! It was not till they were once more at sea that he breathed freely.

There was some talk of making for Alexandria, but a naval officer among the passengers who was anxious to join his ship before Sebastopol, began to talk about "charter parties," and "demurrage" for delays. Jellybags grew frightened. The further he got from England the more he respected the powers of war, and those who followed its

trade. But he made a stand at Syra, in the Grecian archipelago, though there was little trade to be done there except in windmills; and at Constantinople they wasted a week. At last, one morning, Alured woke in Balaclava harbour.

VOL. I.

Р

CHAPTER XIII.

AT THE FRONT.

"The trumpets sound
The colours flying are, my boys;

To fight, kill, or wound,

May we still be found,

Content with our hard fare, my boys,
On the cold ground."

THE Sailor Queen lay amidst a forest of masts, in a busy bay, landlocked and sheltered by high hills. Bustle surrounded her. Boats hurrying to and fro, laden with freight, living and dead, merchandize, fruits, sick and wounded, shot and shell.

There goes Blatherwyck," cries some one, as a man in an old sheepskin coat, and looking like a ghost, is rowed past. "I said he wouldn't last a week out here."

"Dying of funk probably."

Blatherwyck was one of the Ballybanagher bad bargains. He had shirked so long, that

at last they had ordered him to sell or sail. He sailed, and stayed in the Crimea just one week, during which time he obtained a majority without purchase in his regiment.

But by this time the Sailor Queen had been boarded by many visitors. It was refreshing to see the air with which the captain and Mister Jellybags did the honours of the ship. These visitors were customers,-officers from "the front," in search of food, clothing, drink,— anything, from paper to pickles. Jellybags was more at home now than he had been at sea. His real trade was barter; his training had been behind a counter, in the mysteries of profit and loss.

"Hexcuse me, major, it's cheap at forty-two the dozen;" and "I couldn't let you have it a halfpenny cheaper;" "They stands us in more than that; they does indeed," were phrases constantly in his mouth. Captain Costabadie presided at the festive board, where sardines and bottled beer were laid out to foster enterprise among the buyers.

Of course there was plenty of news about.

A sortie last night; the -th bolted."

"Oh come!"

They did.

Blessington
Blessington told me so. I'd

have fired into them, by George."

"Like Paddy Geoghan of ours.'
"Did he ?"
'Yes, faith.

We were in support at the Woronzoff road, and a fellow of the Blazers hooked it back from the chevaux de frise. Crying for his mother he was. The Russians were in force at the picquet house."

"Well ?"

"As he came towards us, Geoghan put up his rifle, and shot him dead."

"What did they do to Geoghan?"

"What'd you want 'em to do to him? He's shouldering his gun still. They call him Paddy Geoghan that shot the Blazer,' that's all." "Carruthers, of the th was shot, at the Ovens last night."

"Infernal place. Hot as-" "An oven."

"Poor joke. But it is hot. There's a casualty or two there most nights."

"A casualty" is a military euphemism for a man killed.