After forty-eight hours’ diligence travelling, Jack reached the pretty seaport on the northern shore of the Adriatic.  He found to his satisfaction that one of the Austrian Lloyd’s steamers would sail for Constantinople on the following morning.  He spent the evening in buying a great stock of such articles as he had most found the want of in camp, and had accumulated quite a respectable stock of baggage by the time he went on board ship.  After six days’ steaming, during which they were never out of sight of land, they cast anchor opposite Constantinople.

Jack did not report himself to the naval authorities here, as he thought it quite possible that the “Falcon” had been recalled or sent on other service, and he hoped that in that case he would, upon reaching the front, be appointed to some other ship.

There was no difficulty in obtaining a passage to Balaklava, for two or three transports, or merchantmen laden with stores, were going up every day.  He paused, however, for three days, as it was absolutely necessary for him to obtain a fit-out of fresh uniforms before rejoining, and at Galata he found European tailors perfectly capable of turning out such articles.

Jack felt uncommonly pleased as he surveyed himself in a glass in his new equipment; for it was now eight months since he had landed in the Crimea, and the dilapidation of his garments had from that time been rapid.  The difficulties of toilet had, too, been great, and white shirts were things absolutely unknown; so that Jack had never felt really presentable from the time when he landed.

The day he had obtained his outfit he took a passage in a ship laden with stores, and sailed for the Crimea.  He had already learned that the “Falcon” was still there, and when the vessel entered the harbor he was delighted at seeing her lying as one of the guard-ships there.  An hour later, one of the ship’s boats conveyed him and his baggage to the side of the “Falcon.”  The first person he saw on reaching the deck was Mr. Hethcote.  The officer stared when Jack saluted and reported himself in the usual words, “Come aboard, sir,” and fell back a pace in astonishment.

“What, Jack!  Jack Archer!” he exclaimed.  “My dear boy, is it really you?”

“It’s me, sure enough, sir,” Jack said, and the next moment Mr. Hethcote was shaking his hand as if he would have wrung it off.

“Why, my dear Jack,” he exclaimed, “the men all reported that both you and poor Hawtry were killed.  They said they saw him shot, and, looking back, saw you killed over his body.  It was never doubted a moment, and your names appeared in the list of the killed.”

“Well, sir, we are alive nevertheless, and Dick is by this time at home with his people.  He would have come on and joined with me at once, sir, only he got his arm broken, and was laid up with fever after some fighting we had among the Polish insurgents.”

“Among what!” Mr. Hethcote exclaimed, astonished.  “But never mind that now; I am glad indeed to hear that Hawtry also is alive, but you must tell me all about it presently.  There are your other friends waiting to speak to you.”