For the two days during which he was delayed by contrary winds, he took up his abode at the house of Mr. Hancock, his banker, and passed the greater part of the time in company with the English authorities of the Island.  At length the wind becoming fair, he prepared to embark.  “I called upon him to take leave,” says Dr. Kennedy, “and found him alone, reading Quentin Durward.  He was, as usual, in good spirits.”  In a few hours after the party set sail,—­Lord Byron himself on board the Mistico, and Count Gamba, with the horses and heavy baggage, in the larger vessel, or Bombarda.  After touching at Zante, for the purpose of some pecuniary arrangements with Mr. Barff, and taking on board a considerable sum of money in specie, they, on the evening of the 29th, proceeded towards Missolonghi.  Their last accounts from that place having represented the Turkish fleet as still in the Gulf of Lepanto, there appeared not the slightest grounds for apprehending any interruption in their passage.  Besides, knowing that the Greek squadron was now at anchorage near the entrance of the Gulf, they had little doubt of soon falling in with some friendly vessel, either in search, or waiting for them.

“We sailed together,” says Count Gamba, in a highly picturesque and affecting passage, “till after ten at night; the wind favourable—­a clear sky, the air fresh but not sharp.  Our sailors sang alternately patriotic songs, monotonous indeed, but to persons in our situation extremely touching, and we took part in them.  We were all, but Lord Byron particularly, in excellent spirits.  The Mistico sailed the fastest.  When the waves divided us, and our voices could no longer reach each other, we made signals by firing pistols and carabines—­’To-morrow we meet at Missolonghi—­to-morrow.’  Thus, full of confidence and spirits, we sailed along.  At twelve we were out of sight of each other.”

In waiting for the other vessel, having more than once shortened sail for that purpose, the party on board the Mistico were upon the point of being surprised into an encounter which might, in a moment, have changed the future fortunes of Lord Byron.  Two or three hours before daybreak, while steering towards Missolonghi, they found themselves close under the stern of a large vessel, which they at first took to be Greek, but which, when within pistol shot, they discovered to be a Turkish frigate.  By good fortune, they were themselves, as it appears, mistaken for a Greek brulot by the Turks, who therefore feared to fire, but with loud shouts frequently hailed them, while those on board Lord Byron’s vessel maintained the most profound silence; and even the dogs (as I have heard his Lordship’s valet mention), though they had never ceased to bark during the whole of the night, did not utter, while within reach of the Turkish frigate, a sound;—­a no less lucky than a curious accident, as, from the information the Turks had received of all the particulars of his Lordship’s departure