NINE days after leaving Gibraltar the "Fortuna" glided into the Grand Harbour at Malta, where, having obtained pratique, we remained three days.

Owing to the strong gales and head winds, another fourteen days passed ere we sighted the high light at Port Said, the northern entrance to the Suez Canal. Entering between two long and extremely low concrete breakwaters, we had to pay the necessary tolls and make a number of declarations before authority was given us to proceed. By the company's regulations we were compelled to make the passage through the Canal under power, and if unable to cover the entire length of eighty-seven miles by daylight, we should have to make fast by night, when, except under most urgent circumstances, no traffic is permitted.

It was noon, however, before the tedious journey commenced, and in consequence we had little hopes of arriving at Suez before nightfall.

The bos'n had overhauled the wire hawsers, and had cleared away one of the bow anchors, and had carried the kedge aft, so as to bring the yacht to a standstill in the event of a mishap. The awnings were rigged to mitigate the effects of the blazing sun, and a square of damp canvas was placed over the motor-case to prevent the gritty sand and dust from playing havoc with the engine.

The very monotony of the Canal made the hours drag slowly. Occasionally we passed a steamer, sometimes having to "tie up" to the bank to permit her to pass, but for the best part of the day there was nothing to be seen but a dreary bank of sand on either hand, and a long thread of sluggish water ahead. The heat, too, was terrific, and when, as frequently happened, a sudden squall swept down from the desert, the air was filled with particles of fine sand that made our eyes smart in a most painful manner.

One of these squalls occurred just as a large tramp steamer, high in ballast, was passing us. The "Fortuna," being protected to a certain extent by the bank, escaped with a shower of sand, but the steamer, her high sides offering an enormous surface to the blast, was blown broadside on to the lee shore, where she stopped dead against the bank, her propeller throwing up columns of sand and water till the engines could be stopped, and as long as she remained in sight we could see that the tramp was still aground.

A few miles farther we passed a "gare," or widening of the Canal, where two large vessels could pass, and barely had we gone another mile than there was an ominous dragging of the propeller. The man stationed at the motor immediately stopped the engine, and the anchor was let go. Something had fouled the propeller, and, reversing being futile, we were hung up in a helpless condition.

"It's a case, sir, I'm afraid," said the bos'n. "I think we had better tow her back to the siding and get help."

My father consented; the gig was lowered, and ten men rowed for the bank, paying out a stout hempen hawser as they went. Then, in the broiling sun, the party laid hold of the rope and marched slowly along the bank, their feet sinking deep in the loose, drifting sand.

It took over an hour to tow the "Fortuna" back to the gare, where we made fast and took steps to clear the propeller. Unwilling to unpack the diving-dresses, the bos'n got hold of some Arabs and explained to them in dumb show that something had fouled the propeller. Showing their white teeth in a broad grin that expressed that they had grasped the situation, two of the Arabs threw off their scanty clothing and dived beneath the yacht's counter.

For nearly a minute they remained beneath the surface, but, on reappearing, they made signs that a rope had wound itself round the screw; though, in spite of the bos'n's gesticulations, the Arabs refused to dive again, jabbering away in a language that was, of course, totally unintelligible to us.

At that moment a stout, big-built man, dressed in a blue surcoat and trousers and wearing a scarlet tarbouch, appeared on the scene, riding a small and miserably lean donkey and attended by two barefooted runners. Sliding awkwardly to the ground, he waddled to the edge of the Canal, and, addressing us in French, asked what had gone amiss.

The bos'n began to explain the situation, and at the same time the Arabs appealed to him; with the utmost capacity of their voices.

"It's one of the native officials of the Canal," explained the quartermaster, who had had previous experience of the East.

"Ask him to come aboard," said Uncle Herbert, and, stepping awkwardly into the gig, he was rowed alongside. Puffing and blowing like a grampus, he gained the deck, and after a few words with the Arabs he turned to my father.

"They want to be paid in advance," he explained in French, a language which the pater readily understood. "They are asking a hundred piastres (slightly over one pound) to clear the propeller, as they say the rope is wound round as hard as iron."

"Tell them that they will be paid directly they have finished the job," said my father resolutely, his Cornish determination beginning to assert itself, "or else I'll send our own divers down."

"Offer the old sinner five piastres for himself, sir," said the quartermaster in a stage aside. "He is not above taking baksheesh, I'll allow."

My father took the hint, and the Gippy jumped at the bait, for, seizing a stout stick which one of his attendants carried, he chased the Arabs over the side, belabouring and reviling them with all the energy at his command. This done, he waddled breathlessly to a deck-chair, and, seating himself, demanded the promised guerdon.

In the meantime four of the Arabs, armed with long knives, were working in relays, two at a time, and within half an hour the obstruction was removed and the propeller in working order.

Hardly had this task been completed and the men paid than the sun set, and with remarkable suddenness the daylight gave place to intense darkness, so the "Fortuna" was compelled to remain in the gare till sunrise.

The tropical heat of the day gave place to a piercing cold, a circumstance that surprised us, and we were glad to turn out our warm clothing, which, soon after leaving Gibraltar, we had discarded, as we had hoped, for months.

Just before turning in I went on deck, and, looking southwards, I noticed a glare in the sky. It turned out to be the searchlight of the P. and O. s.s. "Caledonia," which vessel, being privileged to proceed through the Canal at night, carries a powerful lamp that, with its operator, is suspended in a large cage over the bows.

Slowly the huge liner passed, leaving the darkness intensified by the blinding glare.

"A pretty sight, isn't if?" remarked my uncle, who had joined me on deck and was puffing at a cheroot.

"Rather!" I assented, drawing my coat collar over my ears. "But it's too chilly to stay here, so I think I'll turn in."

"Stay another ten minutes," he continued, pulling out his watch and peering at it by the glow of his cheroot, "and you'll see something that will well repay the trouble of waiting in the cold."

"Now," he added, after a few minutes' interval, "look over there"; and, following the direction of his outstretched arm, I saw nothing but the dim outlines of a break in the sand-hills that fringed the Canal.

Even as I looked, a dazzling red disc appeared to leap above the horizon, and in a moment the desert was flooded with a ruddy light. The moon had risen with all the splendour that is only met with in the rarefied atmosphere of tropic and sub-tropic climes.

In another quarter of an hour it was well above the horizon, bathing the surrounding country in a mellow light and casting long shadows of our spars athwart the opposite bank of the placid Canal.

"Splendid!" I exclaimed.

"Yes," assented my uncle, "and sunrise will be quite as rapid. Now go below and have a good night's rest, and I'm certain you won't turn out till we are nearly clear of this glorified ditch."

Uncle Herbert was right, for I did not awake till nearly noon, to find the cabin sweltering in the midday heat and the "Fortuna" passing through the last of the Bitter Lakes, Isma?lia having been left astern two hours after daybreak.

A short stay at Suez, and the "Fortuna" cleared the southern entrance to the Canal, the town and the basins of Port Ibrahim being lost to view at a distance of three miles.

Before midnight we had emerged from the Gulf of Suez, catching but a short glimpse of the famous Mount Sinai against the western sky.

"You see that mountain just this side of it?" asked my uncle. "That's Jebel Katherina, more than a thousand feet higher and two miles to the west'ard of Sinai—yet almost every passenger on the Oriental liners firmly believes that he has seen the actual mountain mentioned in the Bible; but, as a matter of fact, this is the only position from which we can see it. In less than two minutes Sinai will be hidden by the other mountain. See, they are even now getting into line."

Next day we were in the cent............