Making the run across from Cape Griznez to Dover is no place for gaping, let alone sleeping; for vessels are so continually passing to and fro that one requires all their wits about them to keep clear of the steamers.  These monsters, with their red and green eyes, came looming up so noiselessly in the still night, without the least warning (save these same eyes) of approaching danger, that I almost shuddered as they passed just ahead or astern, to think what might happen if either one of us slept for only a few minutes on his post.  Just a crash, a scream, and all would be over, and the great steamer would most likely pass along on her voyage, and no one be the wiser that a couple of lives had been sacrificed to Morpheus.

When morning dawned the dear old chalk cliffs of Dover were looking down upon our little cockle-shell, as she rose upon each glittering wave, and looking up at those gigantic white cliffs, we seemed really to be at home.  Here was England at last, and I could not resist the temptation of running into the harbour to once more put foot on my native land.  We got in about seven, and had a stroll about the hilly old place, then went to a dining-room and had such a breakfast as my slim purse would afford.  We then gave “Begum” (who looked after the vessel while we were away) a run ashore for half an hour, while we trimmed up and made all snug.

At about half-past nine on the 6th we left the harbour in brilliant sunshine, Ramsgate and Margate looking gay with their flags, yachts, bathing machines, white houses, and throngs of holiday makers.  The water round the English coast looks hardly clean enough to bathe in after the limpid crystal we had been used to at Jethou.  It struck us as looking peculiarly chalky and turbid, but a few days reconciled us to what we shall in future have to put up with.

We kept close in to the North Foreland, to avoid the dreaded Goodwin Sands, as we did not wish to leave the bones of the “Happy Return,” with her valuable cargo, upon them.

From the Foreland we took a straight course across the Thames estuary, for what we thought was Walton Naze, but as we had no compass, and were quite out of sight of land, we made a slight error, and about dusk found ourselves close in with the shore.  Not knowing where we were, as a fog from the land had come bowling along over the calm sea, we entered a pretty little bay, and dropped anchor for the night.

While we were preparing supper and wondering where we had got to, as there was not a house, church, or other landmark in sight, we felt a bump against our quarter, and immediately after a head appeared above our side, with a “Good evening, mates; I thought as how you might want summat from the town, so I jest put off to ye, seeing ye were strangers like.”

“Very good of you indeed, my man.  Make fast and come aboard.”