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Three minutes later we were joined by Monsieur Saint Croix in the Vestale's cutter, when the canvas was set in both boats, the wind, though dead in our teeth for the passage up the river, being free enough to carry us as far as Boolambemba Point. For the remainder of that day and up to about 4 p.m. on the day following, the expedition progressed without incident of any kind worth mentioning.
By the time that this message had been communicated by the slow and tedious process then in vogue the two vessels were too far apart to render any further conversation possible, and in little more than an hour after the final hauling-down of the last signal the Vestale's main-royal sank beneath the verge of the western horizon, and we were once more alone.
We stood on as we were going until eight bells in the afternoon watch that day, when the ship was hove round on the larboard tack and a course shaped for Saint Paul de Loando, our skipper having come to the conclusion that the brig referred to in the Vestale's signal was undoubtedly the craft which we had been on our way back to the Congo to look for, and that as, according to the gun-brig's statement, she was no longer there, we were now free to proceed direct to Saint Paul to land the burnt-out crew as soon as possible.
The final string of flags then disappeared, and the Vestale's answering pennant directly afterwards showed just above her topgallant yard, indicating that she had completed her signal and awaited our reply. We answered "No;" and, in our turn, inquired whether the Vestale had seen or heard of such a craft.
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