CHAPTER XXII.

CHAPTER XXII.SYDNEY.—UP ANCHOR FOR HOME.—"GALWAY MIKE."What a change in their bill of fair awaited our crew the morning after our anchor went down in this beautiful harbor; the change from the eternal salt junk and yams, and unrelenting hard-tack, to the luxuries of a Sydney bumboat! The sailor, to be sure, is no greatconnoisseurin matters of this sort; nevertheless, as our observant cook pithily expressed it, "he likes good grub better than he does poor." A very small sum of money was sufficient to spread a table (or a sea-chest, either,) with baker's loaves, fresh butter and cheese, new milk, eggs, and various other "manavelins," as Jack terms them. I write the word as it is pronounced, but my researches in etymology, are, thus far, all at fault. Neither Noah Webster nor Nat Bowditch throws any light on the matter.Prices of fresh meats, except pork, were almost nominal. Beef could be bought at a penny a pound, mutton at three farthings; for this was long before the gold discoveries in Australia or California. No flood-tide of emigration had yet set in that direction; no yellow-metal fever had yet raged to inflate prices to a fictitious standard. Australia possessed peculiar advantages as a grazing country, and stock could beraised almost without trouble or expense. Thousands were slain merely for the hides, horns and tallow, and extensive shipments of these articles, as also of wool, were made to the mother country. Several large ships were loading at the time of our arrival, forcing the bales of wool into their places with jack-screws, much after the manner of our cotton-droghers in southern ports.Sydney impressed us as rather a handsome town, though not showy or glaring in appearance, most of the buildings being of a crumbly sandstone, which is quarried in the immediate neighborhood, and worked out by convict labor. We inferred, from what we saw, that stone might be cheaper than lumber for building purposes. The convicts who worked in quarrying stone appeared to be the most finished illustrations of laziness reduced to a system that I have ever met with, and to accomplish the least amount of work that it was possible for men to perform who kept steadily at it all day. This was what they called "working government stroke;" and they might have all taken diplomas at the great Circumlocution Office in the science of, How not to do it. They were not allowed to stop work entirely, nor were they ever hurried up. Sentinels in scarlet paced back and forth near them, but this was merely to preserve order and to prevent escape. The convicts themselves were all in uniform of stout, coarse cloth, with the name of the gang or division to which they belonged conspicuously stenciled on the leg of the pants, and across the back of the frock-shirt. Thus some were labelled "ChainGang," others "Hyde Park Barracks," and so on. They were scarcely ever called convicts here, I observed, being spoken of either politely, as "government men," or else, in slang phrase, as "lags."One of the striking features of Sydney, as of all British seaport towns of any size, was the taverns, or "publics," the name of which was legion, each having its distinctive sign. Here were to be found the Red Cross, the Blue Cross, and crosses of all hues of the rainbow; the Red Rose and the White Rose as rivals, typical of the ancient houses of Lancaster and York; the Thistle and the Shamrock both rivalling the Rose, and again a more compromising publican bore aloft a trinity of all three; Red Lions, Green Boars, Blue Elephants, and other impossibilities in zoology, boldly asserted the reality of their existence, while Swans and Magpies on one side of the street eyed Crooked Billets and Wheels of Fortune on the other, and the Jolly Tar near the landing swung his tarpaulin aloft, and kicked up his heels at the whole 'long shore tribe' of them. The landlord of this house was especially gracious to us all, and found his account in it, as our men spent much of their time and money in his establishment, so that the Jolly Tar was, for the time being, even more jolly than was his wont.The advent of an American whaleship at Sydney was a rare occurrence at that day, though, two or three years later, it became a fashionable port of resort for Nor'westmen, the exorbitant port-charges to foreign ships having been taken off, as also the duties on oil sold under a certain quantity. As we had a goodvoyage in the ship, and came on shore with substantial linings to our pockets, we were always welcome visitors at the "publics," taking the wind out of the sails of all wool-droghers, soldiers, and bar-room loungers generally. It was "Get up, Jack, and let John sit down," when the Yankee whaler's men were coming. I made the acquaintance of an intelligent seaman at the Jolly Tar, a Philadelphian, who had been here some time, having been left sick in the hospital from an American brig, and was anxious to ship and go home with us if possible. Speaking of the landlord of the house, this Ashton said to me:"You would hardly believe, would you, that this man was sent here with two pen'worth of lag?""Two pen'orth of lag!" said I, considerably mystified, "What do you mean by that?""It means," explained Ashton, "in the slang phrase used here, that he was transported for fourteen years. A term of seven years is called a pen'orth of lag, fourteen years two pen'orth, and so on.""But you don't mean to say that he is a convict, now?" said I."Certainly," he returned, "but you must not use that word here; or, if you do, don't speak it so loud. Say a 'government man.' He is still under sentence. I don't know what his offence was, but a few years ago a small matter was enough to transport a man. The law is changed now, and the system is, I think, abolished altogether. No new ones are brought, and these you see here are old stock whose term of service has not yet run out.""But can a convict, then, go into business for himself?""Yes, after he gets his ticket of emancipation, which is generally granted to him after two or three years of good behavior. He can then go to work for himself, and is, to all intents and purposes, free, except that he cannot go out of the colony. In most cases, they don't want to, as they are infinitely better off here than they would be in England. I am told that some of the wealthiest men in the colony are 'lags.'""But why was the system abolished?" I asked."Because, in its practical working, it proved worse than a failure. In fact, instead of checking crime, it was setting a premium upon it. It is said that men, who would like to emigrate to this country but could never accumulate money enough to pay their passage, would commit a theft, so as to be sent here at government expense. They would then conduct themselves well, so as to get their tickets of emancipation, go to work for themselves, and send home the means to bring their families out. Indeed, it is said there were not a few cases where the wife, too, committed theft in order to join her husband, for women were transported as well as men.""But the system, if it did not prevent crime, answered the purpose of peopling the colony, I suppose?""Hardly that," said Ashton, "except with rogues and felons; for the really honest and industrious classes who form the great bulk of those who come to Australia, would hardly desire to emigrate to a penal settlement,full of desperadoes and thieves. The colony has not grown as fast in population under the system, as it would without it, or as it will hereafter. But here comes some of the crew of that whaling bark that got in this morning. She got seven hundred barrels, and left the ground, with whales plenty, because the men's time was up.""Do they ship for a fixed length of time, then?""Yes, it is specified in the articles; and not only the length of the voyage, but the price they are to receive for their oil when they arrive. I went down to see the agents of the Lady Blackwood, that sailed yesterday. I had some idea of shipping, but they had already as many foreigners on the articles as the law allowed. They were ready to ship me if I would make oath that I was a British subject, but, of course, I declined doing so, and that was an end of the negotiation. We were to sign for eighteen months, and to have fifty pounds a tun for our oil, to have two glasses of grog a day and lime-juice, pursuant to the Act of Parliament, and the devil knows what else," said Ashton, with a laugh; "but come, let's go up to the 'Royal Victoria Theatre,' and spend the evening. The seamen will all rally there to-night, for 'Black-eyed Susan' is announced on the bills."After the play was over, we came down to the Jolly Tar, and stepped in to take a parting glass, as I intended going on board in one of the wherries, several of which were moored near by, the watermen having a little watch-house, or shanty, where they could make themselves comfortable and where one or more ofthem could be found, ready for a job, at all hours of the night. It was getting late, and the public house was deserted and quiet, though not yet closed. There was no one in the bar when we entered, but a single small lamp was burning on a shelf. As Ashton was a boarder in the house, he was perfectly at home there, and he passed through into a back room to call some one to attend to our wants at the bar. While waiting for him, I saw the form of a stout man pass across the doorway, and disappear by a narrow entry or passage leading towards the back of the house. I saw that he had on a blue flannel shirt, such as English seamen usually wear, and supposing him to be a boarder about retiring for the night, gave no further thought to the matter. The landlord made his appearance to wait upon us, and, after taking our parting nip, we lingered a moment outside under the little veranda in front."There's a strange sail in these waters," said Ashton. "Did you see the man who went out at the back door while you stood in the bar?""Yes, I saw a man," I answered; "but thought he was one of the regular crew of the house. I shouldn't know him again if I met him, for I only had a glimpse of him for a moment, and that by a dim light.""Well, that," said he, "is a runaway convict—I beg his pardon—a government man. He doesn't know me, but his face is familiar to me, for I have seen him several times at work; in the chain-gang, too. I suppose our landlord is hiding him, and he will lurk round here till he gets a chance to escape into thebush, or else to get on board of some vessel. However, it is none of my business. If he can make his escape, why, let him, I say.""Well, so do I," I replied. "I don't think either of us would turn informer for the sake of the reward that may be offered for him. Well, good-night." I hailed a waterman, and in a few minutes was on board the Arethusa.We were ready for sea within a few days after this occurrence, and, though we had enjoyed our stay at this port, we were all impatient to lift our anchor for the last time, as we hoped, before dropping it off Nantucket Bar. Peter, the Mani Kanaka, took his discharge here, as he had no desire to go to America, and had been offered a chance as boatsteerer in a Sydney whaler. I could not help feeling deeply at parting with the brave fellow, who had stood by me so faithfully in the adventure at Dominica, and whom I should probably never see again. My friend Ashton was shipped to fill this vacancy.It was a fine morning when we hove short and loosed our foretopsail, with the stars and stripes flying at the mizzen peak, and waited for the police-boat which we saw pushing off to board us, as is done in the case of every vessel leaving this port. The first order of the officer in charge of the boat was to have the crew mustered. We were all drawn up on the quarter and main deck, our number counted, and our names called and responded to. We remained as we had been drawn up, while the police, armed with pistols and swords, proceeded to search the ship. This formis always gone through with on board of every outgoing vessel; but in our case the search was more rigidly conducted than usual. The cabin and forecastle were examined; the hatches were taken off, and the between decks rummaged by armed men in every direction; the galley, the round house, the boats, and every place above deck capable of concealing a man, were visited; and the cover was lifted off the tryworks to get a look into the pots. The result was satisfactory to the officer that all were on board who ought to be, and no others."Captain," said he, "I have detained you to make a strict search, for the reason that a notorious criminal, known as 'Galway Mike,' made his escape from the chain-gang a few days ago, and is still at large. He has probably gone back into the bush, for he got away once before, and was nearly two years a bushranger, and you know, I suppose, what sort of a life that is. It is but a few weeks since he was captured, and he has managed to get off again. But our search of your ship has been thorough, and I presume that you and your officers are willing to give your word of honor that there is no concealed man on board, to your knowledge."Of course they were ready to do so."That is sufficient," said the boarding officer. "You can take up your anchor now, understanding, of course, that you are to hold no communication with the shore by boats after doing so. I am sorry to have delayed you so long, but my duty must be done. I wish you good-morning, and a pleasant voyage."He had hardly landed at the pier, before our anchor was being bowsed up to the cat-head with the roaring chorus of "Time for us to go!" and, under our three topsails and jib, we were shooting out of our berth and threading our way among the fleet of shipping. The pilot left us when near "the Heads," and the long Pacific waves again tossed our noble ship along with her cutwater pointed homeward. We were busied in securing the anchors, and getting everything in sea trim generally, and, with a fresh breeze on our quarter, we had run the coast of New South Wales well into the dim distance before getting our meridian observation."Mr. Grafton," said the captain, as he took his quadrant from the case, "you may set the foretopmast-staysail. It will do some good with the wind out here on the quarter.""Ay, ay, sir," answered the mate. "Stand by to hoist the staysail," said he, as he came forward. "Jump out there, Kelly, and cast that stop off."The staysail had been furled ever since the night we let go our anchor in Sydney, being stowed flat down on the netting, and stopped with a short piece of small rope. Kelly had cast off the stop, and sung out "Hoist away!" when he nearly lost his balance and fell overboard, as the folds of the canvas opened before him, and a powerful, sun-browned man, with hair and beard close shaven, leaped out on the bowsprit, and stood staring into his astonished eyes."Hillo!" shouted the mate; "Who the devil is thisboarding us over the bows? Here, this way, you, sir! Where did you come from?"The strange man had by this time jumped in on deck, and casting a glance astern at the dim outline of the land melting in the horizon, muttered:"All right, he wont put back now to land me.""That's the very man who was lurking round the Jolly Tar," said Ashton to me, as he came aft with the mate."Who are you?" asked Captain Upton. "A convict, I suppose, or you wouldn't be shaved and shingled so closely. Either an escaped convict, or a deserter from the army. Are you the man they were searching for this morning?"The stranger folded his arms, and answered boldly:"Yes, sir; I'm an escaped convict, as you call it, or as I should say, a runaway lag. I am the very man they were looking for this morning. My name is—never mind what it really is—I am best known as Galway Mike."I observed that there was no Irish accent in his speech. The title by which he was known was evidently a misnomer."And how long have you been stowed away in the staysail?""Since last night, sir;" he replied."Did any of my crew help you, or stow you away?""No, sir. No one of them knew I was there until now, and you would not have known it till to-morrow, if you hadn't had occasion to hoist the sail.""And what do you expect me to do with you now?"asked the captain, who was evidently impressed by the man's speech and bearing, and who had that repugnance that all seamen feel to delivering up to justice any man who has thrown himself on their protection. The certainty of a hundred pounds reward, would not, probably, have tempted a man of the ship's company to vote for putting back to land him, though none of us really wanted him as a shipmate."You'll do what you please with me, of course," answered the convict, coolly. "I don't care much what it is, so that you don't carry me back to the chain-gang. I hope you won't do that, sir.""No, I'm sure I shall not do that, with a forty miles offing, a strong westerly wind, and homeward bound;" said the old man."Well, sir, I'm willing to do duty and act a man's part on board the ship," said Galway Mike. "I'm not much of a sailor, but I've been a short time at sea, and I'm strong and willing.""But I don't want you;" replied the captain. "My crew list is full, and I shall not carry you to America, for no one there would thank me for it, if what is said of your past life is true.""Never mind what is said of my past life, now, sir," he interposed; "I shall neither confirm nor deny anything. What is to be done with me, then?""I shall be obliged to land you somewhere in New Zealand, though I suppose that amounts to nearly the same thing as carrying you back to Sydney," said the old man, with a shade of regret."Not at all, sir," said Mike, "unless you put medirectly into the hands of the authorities. If you will land me so that I can have a few hours start of them, they may whistle for me. I'm quite willing to take my chance among the Maories.""All right!" returned the captain, glad to be able to compromise with his sympathies in this way. "I shall make the land in a few days, and will set you ashore there somewhere. How did you get on board? by swimming?""Yes, sir. I swam under the bows, and climbed up the chain cable.""Well, I must say you showed good judgment in selecting a hiding-place," said the captain, with a laugh. "What would you have done if we had set the staysail when we first got under way?""I say nothing about what I would have done under circumstances that did not occur," answered the man quietly. "I should have done all that could be done. It's not the first runaway business that I've had to do with.""I presume not;" the captain replied, laughing again, for he was amused at the stranger's oddity and perfect coolness. "Well, go forward and tell the cook to give you some dinner with the rest, for you must be sharp-set by this time. I will do as well as I can by you, but I must get rid of you at New Zealand, anyhow.""Thank you, sir!" answered Galway, as he passed forward among the crew."What do you think of him, Mr. Grafton?" said the old man."He's no Irishman. There's no Mike about him, nor Galway either," said the mate. "My honest belief is, that he is an American, though how he got out here as a transported convict I expect would be a long story. It's useless to askhimabout it, that's evident.""Quite so," answered the captain. "But, come, I have lost my latitude, talking with him, and the steward is waiting dinner for us."CHAPTER XXIII.HOMEWARD.—THE EPISODE OF GALWAY MIKE.—CAPE HORN.—THE LAST WHALE.The inspiring cry of "There she blows!" greeted our ears the third day after leaving Sydney, and two sixty-barrel bulls, tugging at the fluke-chains that night, were the rich reward of our hard day's labor, putting us all in high spirits, for another hundred barrels would fill the ship, and this we hoped to get somewhere on the passage. Our progress was somewhat delayed, of course, as we were obliged to lose the fair wind while cutting. We had the last "junk" in the tackles, when a sail was seen to windward running down across us, and, on drawing nearer, was made out to be a small hermaphrodite brig. He seemed to recognize us, for, instead of running down across us, he rounded to windward and lowered his boat. As he came up to the wind, exposing his broadside to view, we had no difficulty in recognizing a little brigantine that lay a little inshore of us, while in Sydney. "That's the Paramatta!" said a dozen voices at once, and no one knew her better than our supernumerary shipmate. He said not a word to those near him, but went aft to the captain. He stood respectfully on the lee side of the quarter deck, waiting till the old manshould be at liberty to notice him. Nothing in his manner or appearance indicated that he was at all disturbed or alarmed."Well, Mike," said the old man, as, shutting up his spyglass and turning round, he, for the first time, perceived him. "What's the word? You know that fellow, I suppose?""O, yes, sir. That's the Paramatta, bound to Auckland. I suppose it's all up with me.""How so?" asked the old man. "Do you mean to go on board and give yourself up?""No, sir, not I; I shall never go unless I am carried by force; but I thought perhaps you might give me up, as it would save you the trouble and delay of landing me at New Zealand. Perhaps I did you injustice in thinking so. I hope I did, sir.""Of course you did, Mike," said the captain, severely. "I gave you my word that I would land you, and I shall keep it. Perhaps you had better keep out of sight for the present, as I don't care to have it known that you are on board my ship, and some of the boat's crew might recognize you.""All right, sir," replied the convict. "I'll be all snug before they get here. His crew wouldn't be likely to blow upon me any more than yours would, but old Pickering himself would sell me at sight to get the reward. He would like nothing better than to take me to Auckland. You see he isn't a regular-built seaman, sir; he's a sort of 'long shore trader.""I see," said the old man. "Well, he won't be much the wiser for his visit to me. But here he is,close under our quarter. You wont need any instruction about hiding yourself, for you are qualified to teach me," he added, with a laugh, as Mike passed forward and vanished below the deck."It's very likely," said the old man, walking to the mainmast, and raising his voice for the benefit of all who might be within hearing, "that some inquiries will be made about that man who is not down by name on the ship's articles. As for myself, I don't mean to know anything about him. The rest of you, of course, are at liberty to turn informers, if you wish to. I should be sorry to think any of my men would do so, but I have no authority to dictate what subjects you shall talk about."He had said enough; Mike's secret was perfectly safe. Pickering, the skipper of the brigantine, a "comfortable" looking Englishman, with thin side whiskers, and a general roast-beef appearance, stepped on deck and shook hands with Captain Upton."Ah! captain, you've got a good cut, I see.""Yes," answered the old man. "We've had greasy luck, and got a couple of nice whales. When did you leave Sydney?""The same day that you did, in the afternoon. Have you got a strange man on board, captain?""I don't see any," said our conscientious skipper, glancing innocently forward among the groups of men. "Your harbor police overhauled me pretty severely before I tripped my anchor, andtheydidn't see any, either.""Yes, I noticed they spent some time on board ofyou. But there was a mighty stir among them within two hours after you left. The keeper of that public near the landing was arrested for having harbored and concealed him. Some one informed against him, and it was proved that this Galway Mike had been seen near the house the evening before, and so, instead of putting back into the bush, it was thought he had gone on board some vessel.""The Jolly Tar is fallen into melancholy, then, I suppose.""Yes," replied Pickering; "the landlord had his 'ticket' revoked, for he was a lag himself. He was lugged up to Hyde Park Barracks and put into uniform. He will have to serve out his time in the stone quarry.""But don't you think," asked the old man, "that if that convict had been on board the ship, he would have shown himself before this time?""Yes, he would," said the Englishman, "unless some of your men are parties to his concealment, and furnish him with food. In that case he might be concealed for some time.""So he might," said our captain, dryly. "That's true.""He may be hid somewhere on board at this moment," observed Pickering, in a low and mysterious tone."I shouldn't wonder," answered Captain Upton, in the same manner. "Or he may be on board the Paramatta.""He wouldn't be likely to run from New SouthWales to New Zealand, if he could get any other voyage. There's thirty pound reward offered for his apprehension," said Pickering."Is there, indeed? That's quite an object. But, come, let's go below and take something. I'm too busy to hunt for the man now, but if I should find him on board before I get to New Zealand, I'll land him there."They reappeared in a few minutes, and Pickering manned his boat and left us. The brigantine was soon running off on her course, and the convict was again at work among the rest."His fingers are itching for that thirty pounds, Mr. Grafton," said the old man. "He didn't make anything by coming here. I didn't tell him any lies though—or, at least, nothing but Quaker lies," said he, compromising with his conscience. The mate laughed, evidently understanding what he meant; but Mr. Dunham inquired his meaning."Well," said the captain, in explanation, "you don't remember Uncle Reuben the shoemaker, but Mr. Grafton does. I went there to be measured for a pair of boots, and, of course, I asked him when they would be done? 'Well,' said he, 'thee may come in seventh-day night.' So at the appointed time, I went for my boots, and he hadn't begun on them yet. I was much disappointed, for I expected to have worn them on Sunday, and I said to him, indignantly: 'You told me they would be done Saturday night.' 'O, no!' said Uncle Reuben, in his mild way; 'I didn't tell thee so. I told thee,thee might comeseventh-day night,and that was just what I meant. If they were done, thee could have them; if not, I would tell thee when to come again.' Now that was as near a lie as anything that I said to Captain Pickering."We finished boiling and stowing down our oil, and again cracked sail on the ship. On the twelfth day after leaving our port we made the North Cape of New Zealand, and the islands named, by Tasman, "The Three Kings." We stood in near the coast, looking for an eligible place to set our man ashore, and the old man said to him:"I suppose, Mike, you wouldn't want to be landed very near the Bay of Islands?""No," said the convict, "I would rather not. Put me among the Maories, and that is all I want. There is a headland here not far off. I'll tell you when we come to it. There, I can see it now," said Mike, who appeared to be better acquainted with the coast than any one on board. "There is the entrance to a snug, land-locked bay called by the natives, Wangaroa. It's not generally known to whalers yet, but will be visited more, by and by. Put me on the rocks, anywhere within the entrance, and I'll give you no more trouble. I am known among that tribe there. The English authorities will not find me, there. The Maories are in a state of war with the English, and they are not to be despised when they fight in their own way, among their native mountains."We hove to off the place indicated, and lowered our boat, taking the convict himself as our pilot. He shook hands heartily with everybody, seeming neither elatednor despondent, but self-collected and impassible as he always was. He took with him nothing but an old musket and some ammunition which the old man had given him. We rounded a point of rocks and pulled a short distance into the bay, when two Maories, on an elevation a short distance from us, hailed us, at the same time bringing their muskets up to the shoulder. We ceased pulling and lay on our oars. The convict rose and answered them in their own dialect, seeming to speak it quite fluently. They answered again, and a short conference seemed to produce satisfactory results, for they lowered their guns and descended the hill towards us, after giving a louder shout than any before, to which we could hear a responsive yell from voices further up the bay."They'll pass the word all the way over those mountains," said our cool and ready companion. "There's a chain of sentinels and pickets on every hill. It's all right; these fellows know me well. Lay right in for that flat rock, and I'll land there."We did so; he jumped out on the ledge of rock, and with a single "good-by" to us, he rushed up to meet the two natives half-way. They seemed to greet each other as former acquaintances might, and the three disappeared over the brow of the hill together, as we pulled out at the mouth of the bay. This was the last that any one of us ever saw of our "government man;" but some two years afterwards, I read, by accident, in a Sydney newspaper, an account of a smart and bloody skirmish between the English troops and the Maori tribes, and among the slain had beenfound the body of a white man, tattooed in the face like a chief of rank, and it was recognized as that of a desperado long known in the colonial settlements as Galway Mike. Thus read the statement in the Gazette, and this is all I know of his history.The passage across the South Pacific Ocean is monotonous and barren of incident. From New Zealand to Cape Horn we had rugged weather and strong winds, for the most part fair for running on our course, at times blowing, day after day, with the regularity of trades, again hauling a few points so as to trim for it on the other quarter, and in one or two instances increasing to a gale, so violent as to compel us to heave to for the safety of the ship. As we approached Cape Horn we again encountered the cutting hail squalls which seem almost peculiar to this part of the world, but with the wind aft, we did not mind them so much as when outward bound. Rolling off before the westerly gales with sufficient press of canvas on the ship to keep her well clear of the mountainous seas in chase of her, with everything well secured, and careful men at the wheel, we laughed at the weather now, and wondered at our own progress, as we counted off five, six, or seven degrees of longitude each day, and reckoned how many more days at this rate of sailing ere we should have room to edge away to the northward and begin to steal towards a milder climate. Degrees of longitude are short ones in this latitude, and we seem to be "putting a girdle round about the earth," if not, like Puck, "in forty minutes," yet still at a rate that appears to us marvellous, as we find ourclock nearly half an hour behind the sun each day at meridian, and push her ahead to keep her up to our flying rate of progress.Land ho! most welcome to our eager eyes, rough, barren and uninhabitable though it be, the storm-beaten rock of Diego Ramirez, for it tells us where we are, better than the whole slateful of figures. "Shake out another reef!" she'll bear it! another day's run, and we can shove her off north-east on the "home side of the land"—the towering seas gather and roll on after us—but keep the canvas on her and she will keep ahead of them—every one of them shoots her on towards "Home, sweet home"—Diego Ramirez fades into the dark squall astern, and if the wind stands where it is, we shall catch Cape Horn asleep. That squall has passed—it is not so heavy as it promised to be—"Give her the mainto'gallantsail!" We must make the most of the breeze while we have it, for we're homeward bound! The sun rises brightly this morning, and the wind is fresh yet, and canting to the southward—"Never mind! let her slide off two points, east-north-east now!" for we've plenty of sea room—we're in the Atlantic!We passed to the eastward of the Falklands, and were nearly on the ground where we lost our third mate, when outward-bound. Of course the melancholy circumstance was recalled, and talked over, and the captain mentioned that some twelve years previous, when mate of the Colossus, he had struck a whale in this vicinity, and lost him in consequence of his iron breaking."I hope," said he, "to see whales yet in crossing this ground. It bids fair to be a good day to-morrow, and I think we will shorten sail at night and let her jog easy, so as to take a good look along here. One large whale would be all we want to chock us off, and we would go home with flying colors."The next morning we had hardly got the reefs shaken out, when whales were raised. There were several of them, but they did not appear to run together, but were seen here and there in different directions, and were also irregular in their time of rising and going down."These whales have been gallied," said the old man, "and have not got regular yet. Some ship has been whaling here yesterday, I think. But here is one off the lee quarter that I think can be struck, Mr. Grafton. You and Mr. Dunham lower away and go down there and try him, and I will wait a while and take the ship's chance. If you get fast, I'll come down there to you."Away we went off to leeward, but it soon appeared that his whaleship was too shy for us, and was playing a dodge game with us. In vain we tried to "prick for him;" we spread our chances, and used our best judgment, but all to no purpose. He always rose in some unexpected quarter, and spouting but a few times, was down again before we could get near enough to "stand up." At length he took a start and went off to leeward at a round pace, and led on by our ardor in the chase we pursued it until we were full three miles from the ship, when it became evidentthat he was moving faster and faster at each rising, and we abandoned the chase, especially as the ship showed no signs of running off, but still lay aback in the same position as when we lowered. We laid round the heads of our boats towards the ship, and pulled to windward, wondering why the old man still kept his luff, when up went the ensign at the peak, and the small signal at the main was run up and down several times in rapid succession."Give way hard, boys!" said the mate. "We are wanted in a hurry. The old man must have lowered and struck a whale to windward, and wants help. Perhaps he's stove! spring hard and shoot her up there!"We put our strength to the oars with a will, the second mate keeping way with us, and, though doing our best, it seemed in our anxiety and impatience, that he did not make any headway. The signal was now and then run up and down again hurriedly, speaking the most urgent language of which it was capable. We saw men on the bearers, apparently trying to clear away the lashings of the spare boat which was turned up overhead, but soon this seemed to be abandoned. We could make out now, as we drew nearer, that the cooper was on the hurricane house, waving with all his might to us and thus stimulated to greater exertion, we toiled away at our oars, the boats jumping into the head sea, and sending the spray all over us. We could hear them hailing us from the ship, long before we could make out the words. We could see them pointing to windward, as if to tell us we were needed there. Up across thestern we held our long and strong stroke, receiving the information as we passed, that the old man had struck a whale off the weather bow, and he had run him into the "sun-glaze," so that they could not see him from the ship, and they thought he must be stoven. He could not be far off, however, as he was not more than a mile from the ship when last seen."Give way hard, boys!" said the mate again. "Brace forward, Cooper, and down tacks!" but he was already mustering his small force for this purpose. We "laid back" on our oars, the mates heaving at the stroke oars, and keeping a sharp look out, not pulling directly at the glare of the sun, but in a direction abaft it so as to look broad off the bow and beam of the boat. Soon the mate's countenance lighted, and he threw her head suddenly off with the steering oar."Here they are!" said he, "and not far from us, either! Spring hard, men! They're all on the wreck—two, four, five, six—all safe yet!"They were, indeed, all safe as yet; but we were none too soon, for they were nearly exhausted, as there was a smart sea on, washing over them, and they had all they could do to keep their positions, the strongest assisting and encouraging the others. My friend Ashton was almost gone when I dragged him into our boat; a few minutes more would have finished him. The whole bottom of their boat was crushed, she had filled and rolled over with them, and they had all clung to the bottom."Never mind the boat," said the old man, "sheisn't worth picking up. Set a waif for the cooper to tack and stand towards us. Let's get on board, some of us and get the spare boat out. I think we shall see the whale again if we work up to windward a tack or two."The ship went about, and soon hove to again close to us. We shot alongside, put the half-drowned men on board, and had hardly done so when the whale came up in the ship's wake, distance less that half a mile. "Shove off!" was the word, and we were after him again with two boats, while the captain with his force were already rousing the third one off the bearers. The second mate got the lead this time and was fast a few minutes after pushing astern of the ship. The whale rounded to, and "showed good play," and we were quickly on hand to let more blood from him. He was already weakened from his wounds, and a few touches of the lance made him our prize. The spare boat was not called into service; but another short tack with the ship, and with shouts of triumph that rang loud and clear over the sea, we hauled alongside our last whale, that was to "chock off" the between decks and fill all our spare casks. Our perils in the attack of these monsters were over, for this voyage. No more hard pulls to windward—no involuntary sea-bathing—no more tedious "mastheads" to be stood. Well might we shout over this "last but not least" of our hard-earned prizes.CHAPTER XXIV.HOMEWARD.The whale recognized as an old acquaintance.—Incidents of the run home.—Nantucket again.The last whale! How many pleasant recollections are associated with this landmark in the voyage! How many congratulations were exchanged among us, and how many smart things said! Sweethearts and wives are especially remembered, for both married and single are in high feather, and this is emphatically a red-letter day in the Arethusa's calendar. The work of cutting goes bravely on, amid a running fire of good-natured remarks and spicy jokes, which, of course, between the regular "natives" bear something of a personal character; for every true knight of the island chivalry in those days had his "ladie-love," whose image, held in fond remembrance, fired his heart and nerved his arm in his perilous encounters with leviathan. Each of our Nantucketers, on occasions like this, called to mind some fair face and form, his life-partner, eitherin esseor inposse; all had either wives tomaintain or wives toobtain. The captain himself is not slow to take part in this badinage, for we are cutting the last whale now, and it is a time to waive the little restraints of rank."This is a noble whale, and, being the last one, of course, the blubber is uncommonly fat," said he, as he drove his sharp spade into it, and slashed it into convenient pieces with true professional pride; "this is the one that pays for the bridal outfits and town clerk's fees. Let's see, Mr. Grafton, we shall get invitations to three weddings, certain. I don't know but more, but we may count on three.""Mr. Bunker thinks we needn't count on him," said the mate."Nonsense!" returned the old man. "He thinks we Newtowners don't know his cruising-grounds, because the first landfall he means to make is away up North Shore Hill. But he can't throw any dust in my eyes.""You didn't mean to count me, sir," said Fisher, "for I never have anything to do with the women.""No, of course not," said the captain. "I'll bet that within forty-eight hours after we all get our new sails bent, I shall meet you, head and head, coming down the fashionable side of Orange Street, with studdingsails out both sides—sweeping common folks like me right off into the gutter.""Well, I've got sisters, you know, sir," said Fisher with a half-blush. "I must show them round.""Yes, I know it; but, if the Fortitude gets home ahead of us,oneof your sisters wont want your services.""That's so," put in the second mate. "You can set a new studdingsail on that boom, Fisher.""There, you haven't a word to say, Mr. Dunham,"replied the captain. "If you were landed there to-day, there would be an invasion of 'Egypt,' and a 'rush to arms' in that quarter of the world that would equal anything in the days of Bonaparte. A-a-ah! my spade!" said he, suddenly changing his tone. "I've struck a ringbolt—no, it isn't—it's something in the blubber—head of an iron—somebody has had a crack at this whale before."He pulled it out, and wiped it off with a piece of canvas, scraped it lightly with his jackknife, and examined it with an incredulous look."Eureka!" he shouted at last, holding up the fragment of the harpoon. "Here's my iron! Who says he isn't my own whale, when he has carried my mark these twelve years!"It was even as he said. There was little more than the barbed head left, for it must have been long before the wound cicatrized, and the small part of the shank had been reduced to a mere shred of iron from the effects of long attrition and corrosion; but fairly legible on the thick centre-piece of the head were the marks boldly cut with a chisel, S. COL'S. L. B."Ship Colossus's Larboard Boat," said the old man, triumphantly. "Shouldn't want any more evidence in case of life and death. It's twelve years since I struck that fish—the first time, I mean."The last round of blubber has been "piked off;" the last pot of oil "baled down;" the last pipe stowed that "chocks off betwixt decks," and Old Jeff's immense "plantations" displayed in a triumphant doubleshuffleon the main hatches. Now comes the expected and welcome order. "Overboard tryworks!" Crowbars, hammers, or whatever else will serve the purpose, are seized, and rapidly the cumbrous pile of greasy bricks and mortar disappears under our vigorous blows, the pots alone being saved for the next voyage; the deck is washed and planed off where it had stood; and the old strainer, shattered by hard service, and half-charred by the fire, travels the same road, overboard. We are all astonished that our ship has such a spacious maindeck; and she herself, by her more buoyant and elastic movement, seems to share in the general joy, at being relieved of this unsightly burden.Still onward, homeward, she bounds along! down into the south-east trades, where the duty of dressing her up for home begins; where the operations of fitting, rattling down and tarring down furnish ample employment for us all; where outward-bound merchantmen are met, and passed every day, and longitudes compared by chalking them in gigantic figures on boards, like showmen's posters; where the south-east trades haul to north-east, and knock us off into the "bight of Brazil," compelling us to beat off and on for several days; wherecatamarans, or triangular rafts, fully officered and manned by one Portuguese, come off several miles to sea, to catch fish, and to sell them, too, if a passing ship comes conveniently near; where a big, black steamer, evidently of Yankee build, but wearing the gorgeous Brazilian flag, and showing the name "Bahiana," passes almost within hail of us. Weare favored with a slant of wind at last; Cape St. Augustin is doubled and left astern, the towers of Pernambuco are seen, with ships in the roadstead, and now the coast again trends to the westward, and is soon lost to our view."Sail ho!" a whaler, too, right from home! Now for a gam, for newspapers, perhaps letters, too, for some of us, for books, for tobacco! She hails us, and gives her name as the "Delta, of Greenport." No letters for us there; but we get bundles of New York papers, and peruse them, all four pages, from "clew to earring," advertisements and all. They are filled with politics, for this is campaign year (1844), and of course, we are highly competent, after nearly three years' absence, to understand the issues of the hour! Not a word is said about the National Bank, or the Sub-Treasury, or any of the old bones of contention which are familiar to us, but everything is Texas or no Texas. Henry Clay's name is prominent, and excites no wonder, for his fame has long been national; but "who is James K. Polk?"The equator is crossed, and now how we check off the degrees of latitude, day by day, as we run them up in the north-east trades, for we are on the home side of the line! Our rigging is all fitted and tarred down, and a coat of paint from the mastheads down to the water-line, inside and out, works a wonderful change in the appearance of our noble ship. How eagerly we hail the first patches of gulf-weed! and as we plough through immense quantities of it, day after day, and haul great snarls of it in on deck.wonder what is the use of it, and what becomes of it all, finally?We pass Bermuda without the usual heavy squalls characteristic of that locality, but off Hatteras we lie to a couple of days, and ride out a "clear nor'wester," which seems to blow out of the sun and stars, rather than the clouds. Block Island is our first landfall; and, leaving this on our port bow, we shape our course for the Vineyard Sound. It is nearly night when we see a pilot-boat coming for us, and every heart leaps with joy at the thought of soon being at anchor in a home port. Merrily we rouse up the chain cables from their rusty lockers, and tumble the anchors off the bow; our maintopsail is thrown aback, and the pilot-boat shoots up within hail."What shipisthis?" he asks."The Arethusa, of Nantucket.""O yes! how d'ye do, Captain Upton? You look deep," says the pilot."Full ship," replies the old man, rather proudly. "What's sperm oil worth?""'Bout eighty-five cents. Haint you got a piece of salt pork to spare, captain?""Yes, half a dozen," answers the captain, who, knowing the ropes, has it all prepared beforehand. "Here, pass this meat into the boat.""Now, haint you got a few fathoms of second-hand towline that you can spare as well as not? You see my peak-halyards, they're about worn out.""Here it is, waiting for you," says the old man, with a laugh. "It's the most remarkable thing, thata Sound pilot-boat's peak-halyards alwaysareabout worn out! Here, pass this coil of line into the boat. I suppose you can get us into Oldtown to-night, can't you pilot?""Well, I guess you don't want to go in there, captain. I can get you in to-night as far as Holmes' Hole, anyhow, and if it's fair weather in the morning I'll take you right down to the Bar, and the camels will take you in.""Ah, yes, the camels; they're a new institution that we've never seen yet. They've been built since we were away. Do they work well?""O, yes, indeed," says the pilot, "pick the ship right up, cargo and all, and back her into the harbor and drop her alongside of the wharf.""Good," says Captain Upton; "those are the very animals that I want to see.""I reckon the folks down to Nantucket are getting worried a little about you, captain. They heard from you on Japan, somewhere in the middle of the season, but they didn't hear of your being at the islands in the fall, when we got the reports from the fleet. 'Spose you made a port in some out-of-the-way place?""Yes, I made a running cruise of it, and didn't anchor till I made my last port in Sydney; so I've brought my own report from there."We ran into Holmes' Hole and anchored at nine o'clock among a large fleet of coasting vessels, who had made a harbor for the night like ourselves. Before daylight in the morning we were heaving up again, and, with a fair wind, we ran down for Nantucket Barwith all our bunting flying. Down goes our anchor again in the old berth which we left three years ago, the sails are rolled up to the yards in a hurry, and a boat is lowered to pull the captain ashore. The owner is seen with his horse and the inevitable green box on wheels, waiting on the cliff shore to receive him, and take him to the arms of his family. The boat pulls square in, and lands him on the north beach, and returns to the ship, for an immense black Noah's-ark-looking craft is already seen moving out of the docks in the harbor, which the pilot tells us is "the camels." Several boats soon arrive, with friends and relatives of the Nantucket men. Here is our worthy mate's son in one of them, a stout, well-grown lad and evidently a "chip of the old block;" and here in another boat is an embryo "Cape Horner," a young brother of Obed B., who is already shipped, and is to sail in a fortnight."Ah, Obed;" he says, as he hops in over the rail, with hands outstretched, and his nut-brown, young face lighted up with pleasure and excitement, "I'm going in the Ranger; and if you hadn't got home just as you did, you wouldn't have seen me for I don't know how many years. Yes, the folks are all well at home, and the camels will have you into the wharf before night. The steamer will be along soon. We've got a new steamboat, too, since you went away. Say, Obed, I got the dollar from Captain Upton's wife this morning. I was the first boy that knew it was the Arethusa. One of the men came down out of the old south tower, and told me what signal the ship had set,and I put for the captain's house. I got the dollar, and then I dug for another, for I knew where the mate's wife lived, too; but some other boys had found it out by that time, and I had a tight race for it with Jack Manter, but I was tired then, I had run so far, and Manter got ahead of me, and sung out first, as he rushed into the front entry, but I tumbled right in after him. Mrs. Grafton was scared half to death at first, till she understood what the matter was, and then she laughed and cried both at once, and handed out a dollar, and said we might divide it, if we liked, but it belonged to Jack, for he was a little ahead of me, and I didn't care much, for I'd got one. Some mates' wives don't give but half a dollar," said he, pausing to get breath.I cannot stop to hear any more, for here is Richards, still out-door clerk of Messrs. Brooks & Co., and he is the only man likely to have any news for us "off islanders." He is ready with a hearty greeting and hand-shaking, and is prepared to "infit" us with clothing of any style, price or quality, as soon as we land. He produces a bunch of letters which have been directed to various ships expected to arrive soon, "care of Brooks & Co.," and rapidly shuffles them over. Yes! there is my loved sister's handwriting, and here is another from my parents. I tear them open with a beating heart; all is well with those nearest and dearest to me. That is enough for the present. I will read the details when more at leisure, and in a few days I will be with them. I shall not write in reply, but, like the ship, I will bring home my own report."Here comes the camels round Brant Point!" cries the mate, running with the spyglass to look at the clumsy, floating dock which is creeping slowly at us, without any visible means of propulsion, so far as we can see, for the propellers are under the stern. It looks like nothing in the way of naval architecture that we have ever seen, but might serve as an immense floating battery, to be moored for the defence of a harbor. As it draws nearer, we can see that it is built in two parts, being divided lengthwise. The inside of each section or half is built concave to receive the hull of the ship, and to fit round her sides, and under her bilge and floor, as nearly as possible to its general form. The two parts are connected by several heavy chains, which are secured on the deck of one "camel," passing down through it under the keel of the ship, and up through the other, where they are hove taut with windlasses.The camels having taken up their position near the ship, the plugs are drawn, allowing them to fill with water and sink. Being now ready to receive the ship, our anchor is hove up, lines streamed, and she is hauled in between them. The connecting chains are then hove taut by the windlasses, and thus the ship is completely docked, her bottom resting fairly on the concave inner surfaces of the camels, and the chains passing under her keel. She is now ready to be raised, and as soon as the steamboat heaves in sight, returning from her regular trip to New Bedford the steam pumps are set in operation throwing out the water from the camels. The steamer passeswithin hail, and goes on into the harbor to land her mails and passengers, the captain promising to return at once and hook on to us. Meanwhile the steampumps work steadily on, throwing out the water, and the whole fabric is seen gradually to rise, inch by inch, till the water is all out, and the ship is lifted out of the water, the camels themselves being flat and the draft very light. We are just in time for the returning steamboat, hawsers are run to us, she takes us in tow, and after a short struggle to overcome thevis inertiæof the immense arklike contrivance, we move along under good headway. We round Brant Point and steam up nearly to the end of the wharf, when the steamer leaves us, the camels are filled and sink down again, the ship is dropped out from between them, lines run to the pier, and, in a few minutes, she is tied up head and stern alongside her wharf, and ready to discharge her oil. "Hurrah for the camels!" is the sentiment of every man on board, and of nearly every one on shore, too, except the lightermen whose "occupation is gone."Our old landlord is on hand to furnish us board and lodging at the old rates; Messrs. Brooks & Co. are in the same place, the same business operations are going on now as three years ago, and the same knots of seafaring men, or, at least, their very counterparts, pervade "the store," and pass their time in much the same manner. No one seems to have changed or grown any older. There is nothing new under the sun but the camels and the steamer "Massachusetts."Of course, we could not be paid off until the oil wasdischarged on the wharf, gauged, and filled up, so that our "lays" could be calculated exactly. This detained me several days; for, although I might have drawn money from the owners, or from Brooks & Co., yet I preferred to settle up the whole matter before going home to my friends, rather than to be under the necessity of returning to Nantucket. I, of course, took my place among the veteran whalemen, now. I had earned the right to wear a fine, blue roundabout, and morocco pumps, with long streamers of ribbon, to roll and swagger as becomes the "ancient mariner," and to patronize the green hands who formed the last cargo of the Lydia Ann, for that gallant craft is still running as good as new.The newly-arrived seaman, if he be man enough to keep himself sober, finds the time hang heavily on his hands. A restless activity is observable in all his movements, and some sort of excitement must be found to drive away the blues. Itisfound, at least so long as the money lasts. We patronized the livery stables extensively; for every day a string of carriages might be seen bound at racing speed to or from Siasconset, or "South Shore," the occupants urging the smoking horses to their greatest efforts, in desperate rivalry to "outsail" each other; and the cruise is a dull one, and wanting in interest, unless there is either a capsize, a breakdown, a runaway, or a collision. Jack is no horseman, though he is prone to think himself an excellent one. His courage and coolness in emergencies, perhaps, stand him in as good stead as would a better acquaintance with the management of theanimal, for he never becomes excited after the danger arrives, and never loses his self-possession at the very moment it is needed. It is owing perhaps to this fact, that he never gets hurt in these little equestrian diversions, though he often has heavy bills to pay for repairs, to the livery-stable proprietors.The bowling-alley is another of the seaman's favorite resorts, where he can strip to his shirt sleeves, select the heaviest balls, and sling them at the pins with a perfectabandonor "looseness," as he would term it. The game is muscular and boisterous, and these are its recommendations; for, it is notable that the whaleman, or at least, theyoungwhaleman, never affects billiards. Gentle exercise, such as can be taken with the coat buttoned, is not to his taste, until after he arrives at the rank of chief mate, and has more sedateness, and more dignity to maintain.But few days are allowed me to participate in the rough sports of my brother Cape Horners, for the stevedore's gang, and the laborers, with the gauger on the wharf have not been idle, and the "figurer," as he is called here (and who, by the way, is not one of the owners of the ship, but a disinterested party), is ready to settle up and pay us off. The next morning sees a goodly number of us on board the steamer, bound for our respective homes. We take our last look at the ship that has borne us in safety over so many thousand miles of ocean, as she now lies at the next wharf, high out of water, and in process of being stripped to a girtline, for she is to be fitted out again as fast as possible under command of Mr. Grafton. Hehas offered me a good berth in her, but I have not committed myself yet by any decided answer. Kelly and Hoeg are both going with him, as boatsteerers, of course, and perhaps some of the others. But I must visit my home in the country, and look about me a little before I make up my mind for another whaling cruise. In the meantime, I bid them a hearty farewell, as to all others who have accompanied me, either in the good ship herself, or in these sketches, through the pleasures and perils, the lights and shades of my checkered cruise in the Arethusa.THE END.

CHAPTER XXII.SYDNEY.—UP ANCHOR FOR HOME.—"GALWAY MIKE."What a change in their bill of fair awaited our crew the morning after our anchor went down in this beautiful harbor; the change from the eternal salt junk and yams, and unrelenting hard-tack, to the luxuries of a Sydney bumboat! The sailor, to be sure, is no greatconnoisseurin matters of this sort; nevertheless, as our observant cook pithily expressed it, "he likes good grub better than he does poor." A very small sum of money was sufficient to spread a table (or a sea-chest, either,) with baker's loaves, fresh butter and cheese, new milk, eggs, and various other "manavelins," as Jack terms them. I write the word as it is pronounced, but my researches in etymology, are, thus far, all at fault. Neither Noah Webster nor Nat Bowditch throws any light on the matter.Prices of fresh meats, except pork, were almost nominal. Beef could be bought at a penny a pound, mutton at three farthings; for this was long before the gold discoveries in Australia or California. No flood-tide of emigration had yet set in that direction; no yellow-metal fever had yet raged to inflate prices to a fictitious standard. Australia possessed peculiar advantages as a grazing country, and stock could beraised almost without trouble or expense. Thousands were slain merely for the hides, horns and tallow, and extensive shipments of these articles, as also of wool, were made to the mother country. Several large ships were loading at the time of our arrival, forcing the bales of wool into their places with jack-screws, much after the manner of our cotton-droghers in southern ports.Sydney impressed us as rather a handsome town, though not showy or glaring in appearance, most of the buildings being of a crumbly sandstone, which is quarried in the immediate neighborhood, and worked out by convict labor. We inferred, from what we saw, that stone might be cheaper than lumber for building purposes. The convicts who worked in quarrying stone appeared to be the most finished illustrations of laziness reduced to a system that I have ever met with, and to accomplish the least amount of work that it was possible for men to perform who kept steadily at it all day. This was what they called "working government stroke;" and they might have all taken diplomas at the great Circumlocution Office in the science of, How not to do it. They were not allowed to stop work entirely, nor were they ever hurried up. Sentinels in scarlet paced back and forth near them, but this was merely to preserve order and to prevent escape. The convicts themselves were all in uniform of stout, coarse cloth, with the name of the gang or division to which they belonged conspicuously stenciled on the leg of the pants, and across the back of the frock-shirt. Thus some were labelled "ChainGang," others "Hyde Park Barracks," and so on. They were scarcely ever called convicts here, I observed, being spoken of either politely, as "government men," or else, in slang phrase, as "lags."One of the striking features of Sydney, as of all British seaport towns of any size, was the taverns, or "publics," the name of which was legion, each having its distinctive sign. Here were to be found the Red Cross, the Blue Cross, and crosses of all hues of the rainbow; the Red Rose and the White Rose as rivals, typical of the ancient houses of Lancaster and York; the Thistle and the Shamrock both rivalling the Rose, and again a more compromising publican bore aloft a trinity of all three; Red Lions, Green Boars, Blue Elephants, and other impossibilities in zoology, boldly asserted the reality of their existence, while Swans and Magpies on one side of the street eyed Crooked Billets and Wheels of Fortune on the other, and the Jolly Tar near the landing swung his tarpaulin aloft, and kicked up his heels at the whole 'long shore tribe' of them. The landlord of this house was especially gracious to us all, and found his account in it, as our men spent much of their time and money in his establishment, so that the Jolly Tar was, for the time being, even more jolly than was his wont.The advent of an American whaleship at Sydney was a rare occurrence at that day, though, two or three years later, it became a fashionable port of resort for Nor'westmen, the exorbitant port-charges to foreign ships having been taken off, as also the duties on oil sold under a certain quantity. As we had a goodvoyage in the ship, and came on shore with substantial linings to our pockets, we were always welcome visitors at the "publics," taking the wind out of the sails of all wool-droghers, soldiers, and bar-room loungers generally. It was "Get up, Jack, and let John sit down," when the Yankee whaler's men were coming. I made the acquaintance of an intelligent seaman at the Jolly Tar, a Philadelphian, who had been here some time, having been left sick in the hospital from an American brig, and was anxious to ship and go home with us if possible. Speaking of the landlord of the house, this Ashton said to me:"You would hardly believe, would you, that this man was sent here with two pen'worth of lag?""Two pen'orth of lag!" said I, considerably mystified, "What do you mean by that?""It means," explained Ashton, "in the slang phrase used here, that he was transported for fourteen years. A term of seven years is called a pen'orth of lag, fourteen years two pen'orth, and so on.""But you don't mean to say that he is a convict, now?" said I."Certainly," he returned, "but you must not use that word here; or, if you do, don't speak it so loud. Say a 'government man.' He is still under sentence. I don't know what his offence was, but a few years ago a small matter was enough to transport a man. The law is changed now, and the system is, I think, abolished altogether. No new ones are brought, and these you see here are old stock whose term of service has not yet run out.""But can a convict, then, go into business for himself?""Yes, after he gets his ticket of emancipation, which is generally granted to him after two or three years of good behavior. He can then go to work for himself, and is, to all intents and purposes, free, except that he cannot go out of the colony. In most cases, they don't want to, as they are infinitely better off here than they would be in England. I am told that some of the wealthiest men in the colony are 'lags.'""But why was the system abolished?" I asked."Because, in its practical working, it proved worse than a failure. In fact, instead of checking crime, it was setting a premium upon it. It is said that men, who would like to emigrate to this country but could never accumulate money enough to pay their passage, would commit a theft, so as to be sent here at government expense. They would then conduct themselves well, so as to get their tickets of emancipation, go to work for themselves, and send home the means to bring their families out. Indeed, it is said there were not a few cases where the wife, too, committed theft in order to join her husband, for women were transported as well as men.""But the system, if it did not prevent crime, answered the purpose of peopling the colony, I suppose?""Hardly that," said Ashton, "except with rogues and felons; for the really honest and industrious classes who form the great bulk of those who come to Australia, would hardly desire to emigrate to a penal settlement,full of desperadoes and thieves. The colony has not grown as fast in population under the system, as it would without it, or as it will hereafter. But here comes some of the crew of that whaling bark that got in this morning. She got seven hundred barrels, and left the ground, with whales plenty, because the men's time was up.""Do they ship for a fixed length of time, then?""Yes, it is specified in the articles; and not only the length of the voyage, but the price they are to receive for their oil when they arrive. I went down to see the agents of the Lady Blackwood, that sailed yesterday. I had some idea of shipping, but they had already as many foreigners on the articles as the law allowed. They were ready to ship me if I would make oath that I was a British subject, but, of course, I declined doing so, and that was an end of the negotiation. We were to sign for eighteen months, and to have fifty pounds a tun for our oil, to have two glasses of grog a day and lime-juice, pursuant to the Act of Parliament, and the devil knows what else," said Ashton, with a laugh; "but come, let's go up to the 'Royal Victoria Theatre,' and spend the evening. The seamen will all rally there to-night, for 'Black-eyed Susan' is announced on the bills."After the play was over, we came down to the Jolly Tar, and stepped in to take a parting glass, as I intended going on board in one of the wherries, several of which were moored near by, the watermen having a little watch-house, or shanty, where they could make themselves comfortable and where one or more ofthem could be found, ready for a job, at all hours of the night. It was getting late, and the public house was deserted and quiet, though not yet closed. There was no one in the bar when we entered, but a single small lamp was burning on a shelf. As Ashton was a boarder in the house, he was perfectly at home there, and he passed through into a back room to call some one to attend to our wants at the bar. While waiting for him, I saw the form of a stout man pass across the doorway, and disappear by a narrow entry or passage leading towards the back of the house. I saw that he had on a blue flannel shirt, such as English seamen usually wear, and supposing him to be a boarder about retiring for the night, gave no further thought to the matter. The landlord made his appearance to wait upon us, and, after taking our parting nip, we lingered a moment outside under the little veranda in front."There's a strange sail in these waters," said Ashton. "Did you see the man who went out at the back door while you stood in the bar?""Yes, I saw a man," I answered; "but thought he was one of the regular crew of the house. I shouldn't know him again if I met him, for I only had a glimpse of him for a moment, and that by a dim light.""Well, that," said he, "is a runaway convict—I beg his pardon—a government man. He doesn't know me, but his face is familiar to me, for I have seen him several times at work; in the chain-gang, too. I suppose our landlord is hiding him, and he will lurk round here till he gets a chance to escape into thebush, or else to get on board of some vessel. However, it is none of my business. If he can make his escape, why, let him, I say.""Well, so do I," I replied. "I don't think either of us would turn informer for the sake of the reward that may be offered for him. Well, good-night." I hailed a waterman, and in a few minutes was on board the Arethusa.We were ready for sea within a few days after this occurrence, and, though we had enjoyed our stay at this port, we were all impatient to lift our anchor for the last time, as we hoped, before dropping it off Nantucket Bar. Peter, the Mani Kanaka, took his discharge here, as he had no desire to go to America, and had been offered a chance as boatsteerer in a Sydney whaler. I could not help feeling deeply at parting with the brave fellow, who had stood by me so faithfully in the adventure at Dominica, and whom I should probably never see again. My friend Ashton was shipped to fill this vacancy.It was a fine morning when we hove short and loosed our foretopsail, with the stars and stripes flying at the mizzen peak, and waited for the police-boat which we saw pushing off to board us, as is done in the case of every vessel leaving this port. The first order of the officer in charge of the boat was to have the crew mustered. We were all drawn up on the quarter and main deck, our number counted, and our names called and responded to. We remained as we had been drawn up, while the police, armed with pistols and swords, proceeded to search the ship. This formis always gone through with on board of every outgoing vessel; but in our case the search was more rigidly conducted than usual. The cabin and forecastle were examined; the hatches were taken off, and the between decks rummaged by armed men in every direction; the galley, the round house, the boats, and every place above deck capable of concealing a man, were visited; and the cover was lifted off the tryworks to get a look into the pots. The result was satisfactory to the officer that all were on board who ought to be, and no others."Captain," said he, "I have detained you to make a strict search, for the reason that a notorious criminal, known as 'Galway Mike,' made his escape from the chain-gang a few days ago, and is still at large. He has probably gone back into the bush, for he got away once before, and was nearly two years a bushranger, and you know, I suppose, what sort of a life that is. It is but a few weeks since he was captured, and he has managed to get off again. But our search of your ship has been thorough, and I presume that you and your officers are willing to give your word of honor that there is no concealed man on board, to your knowledge."Of course they were ready to do so."That is sufficient," said the boarding officer. "You can take up your anchor now, understanding, of course, that you are to hold no communication with the shore by boats after doing so. I am sorry to have delayed you so long, but my duty must be done. I wish you good-morning, and a pleasant voyage."He had hardly landed at the pier, before our anchor was being bowsed up to the cat-head with the roaring chorus of "Time for us to go!" and, under our three topsails and jib, we were shooting out of our berth and threading our way among the fleet of shipping. The pilot left us when near "the Heads," and the long Pacific waves again tossed our noble ship along with her cutwater pointed homeward. We were busied in securing the anchors, and getting everything in sea trim generally, and, with a fresh breeze on our quarter, we had run the coast of New South Wales well into the dim distance before getting our meridian observation."Mr. Grafton," said the captain, as he took his quadrant from the case, "you may set the foretopmast-staysail. It will do some good with the wind out here on the quarter.""Ay, ay, sir," answered the mate. "Stand by to hoist the staysail," said he, as he came forward. "Jump out there, Kelly, and cast that stop off."The staysail had been furled ever since the night we let go our anchor in Sydney, being stowed flat down on the netting, and stopped with a short piece of small rope. Kelly had cast off the stop, and sung out "Hoist away!" when he nearly lost his balance and fell overboard, as the folds of the canvas opened before him, and a powerful, sun-browned man, with hair and beard close shaven, leaped out on the bowsprit, and stood staring into his astonished eyes."Hillo!" shouted the mate; "Who the devil is thisboarding us over the bows? Here, this way, you, sir! Where did you come from?"The strange man had by this time jumped in on deck, and casting a glance astern at the dim outline of the land melting in the horizon, muttered:"All right, he wont put back now to land me.""That's the very man who was lurking round the Jolly Tar," said Ashton to me, as he came aft with the mate."Who are you?" asked Captain Upton. "A convict, I suppose, or you wouldn't be shaved and shingled so closely. Either an escaped convict, or a deserter from the army. Are you the man they were searching for this morning?"The stranger folded his arms, and answered boldly:"Yes, sir; I'm an escaped convict, as you call it, or as I should say, a runaway lag. I am the very man they were looking for this morning. My name is—never mind what it really is—I am best known as Galway Mike."I observed that there was no Irish accent in his speech. The title by which he was known was evidently a misnomer."And how long have you been stowed away in the staysail?""Since last night, sir;" he replied."Did any of my crew help you, or stow you away?""No, sir. No one of them knew I was there until now, and you would not have known it till to-morrow, if you hadn't had occasion to hoist the sail.""And what do you expect me to do with you now?"asked the captain, who was evidently impressed by the man's speech and bearing, and who had that repugnance that all seamen feel to delivering up to justice any man who has thrown himself on their protection. The certainty of a hundred pounds reward, would not, probably, have tempted a man of the ship's company to vote for putting back to land him, though none of us really wanted him as a shipmate."You'll do what you please with me, of course," answered the convict, coolly. "I don't care much what it is, so that you don't carry me back to the chain-gang. I hope you won't do that, sir.""No, I'm sure I shall not do that, with a forty miles offing, a strong westerly wind, and homeward bound;" said the old man."Well, sir, I'm willing to do duty and act a man's part on board the ship," said Galway Mike. "I'm not much of a sailor, but I've been a short time at sea, and I'm strong and willing.""But I don't want you;" replied the captain. "My crew list is full, and I shall not carry you to America, for no one there would thank me for it, if what is said of your past life is true.""Never mind what is said of my past life, now, sir," he interposed; "I shall neither confirm nor deny anything. What is to be done with me, then?""I shall be obliged to land you somewhere in New Zealand, though I suppose that amounts to nearly the same thing as carrying you back to Sydney," said the old man, with a shade of regret."Not at all, sir," said Mike, "unless you put medirectly into the hands of the authorities. If you will land me so that I can have a few hours start of them, they may whistle for me. I'm quite willing to take my chance among the Maories.""All right!" returned the captain, glad to be able to compromise with his sympathies in this way. "I shall make the land in a few days, and will set you ashore there somewhere. How did you get on board? by swimming?""Yes, sir. I swam under the bows, and climbed up the chain cable.""Well, I must say you showed good judgment in selecting a hiding-place," said the captain, with a laugh. "What would you have done if we had set the staysail when we first got under way?""I say nothing about what I would have done under circumstances that did not occur," answered the man quietly. "I should have done all that could be done. It's not the first runaway business that I've had to do with.""I presume not;" the captain replied, laughing again, for he was amused at the stranger's oddity and perfect coolness. "Well, go forward and tell the cook to give you some dinner with the rest, for you must be sharp-set by this time. I will do as well as I can by you, but I must get rid of you at New Zealand, anyhow.""Thank you, sir!" answered Galway, as he passed forward among the crew."What do you think of him, Mr. Grafton?" said the old man."He's no Irishman. There's no Mike about him, nor Galway either," said the mate. "My honest belief is, that he is an American, though how he got out here as a transported convict I expect would be a long story. It's useless to askhimabout it, that's evident.""Quite so," answered the captain. "But, come, I have lost my latitude, talking with him, and the steward is waiting dinner for us."

SYDNEY.—UP ANCHOR FOR HOME.—"GALWAY MIKE."

What a change in their bill of fair awaited our crew the morning after our anchor went down in this beautiful harbor; the change from the eternal salt junk and yams, and unrelenting hard-tack, to the luxuries of a Sydney bumboat! The sailor, to be sure, is no greatconnoisseurin matters of this sort; nevertheless, as our observant cook pithily expressed it, "he likes good grub better than he does poor." A very small sum of money was sufficient to spread a table (or a sea-chest, either,) with baker's loaves, fresh butter and cheese, new milk, eggs, and various other "manavelins," as Jack terms them. I write the word as it is pronounced, but my researches in etymology, are, thus far, all at fault. Neither Noah Webster nor Nat Bowditch throws any light on the matter.

Prices of fresh meats, except pork, were almost nominal. Beef could be bought at a penny a pound, mutton at three farthings; for this was long before the gold discoveries in Australia or California. No flood-tide of emigration had yet set in that direction; no yellow-metal fever had yet raged to inflate prices to a fictitious standard. Australia possessed peculiar advantages as a grazing country, and stock could beraised almost without trouble or expense. Thousands were slain merely for the hides, horns and tallow, and extensive shipments of these articles, as also of wool, were made to the mother country. Several large ships were loading at the time of our arrival, forcing the bales of wool into their places with jack-screws, much after the manner of our cotton-droghers in southern ports.

Sydney impressed us as rather a handsome town, though not showy or glaring in appearance, most of the buildings being of a crumbly sandstone, which is quarried in the immediate neighborhood, and worked out by convict labor. We inferred, from what we saw, that stone might be cheaper than lumber for building purposes. The convicts who worked in quarrying stone appeared to be the most finished illustrations of laziness reduced to a system that I have ever met with, and to accomplish the least amount of work that it was possible for men to perform who kept steadily at it all day. This was what they called "working government stroke;" and they might have all taken diplomas at the great Circumlocution Office in the science of, How not to do it. They were not allowed to stop work entirely, nor were they ever hurried up. Sentinels in scarlet paced back and forth near them, but this was merely to preserve order and to prevent escape. The convicts themselves were all in uniform of stout, coarse cloth, with the name of the gang or division to which they belonged conspicuously stenciled on the leg of the pants, and across the back of the frock-shirt. Thus some were labelled "ChainGang," others "Hyde Park Barracks," and so on. They were scarcely ever called convicts here, I observed, being spoken of either politely, as "government men," or else, in slang phrase, as "lags."

One of the striking features of Sydney, as of all British seaport towns of any size, was the taverns, or "publics," the name of which was legion, each having its distinctive sign. Here were to be found the Red Cross, the Blue Cross, and crosses of all hues of the rainbow; the Red Rose and the White Rose as rivals, typical of the ancient houses of Lancaster and York; the Thistle and the Shamrock both rivalling the Rose, and again a more compromising publican bore aloft a trinity of all three; Red Lions, Green Boars, Blue Elephants, and other impossibilities in zoology, boldly asserted the reality of their existence, while Swans and Magpies on one side of the street eyed Crooked Billets and Wheels of Fortune on the other, and the Jolly Tar near the landing swung his tarpaulin aloft, and kicked up his heels at the whole 'long shore tribe' of them. The landlord of this house was especially gracious to us all, and found his account in it, as our men spent much of their time and money in his establishment, so that the Jolly Tar was, for the time being, even more jolly than was his wont.

The advent of an American whaleship at Sydney was a rare occurrence at that day, though, two or three years later, it became a fashionable port of resort for Nor'westmen, the exorbitant port-charges to foreign ships having been taken off, as also the duties on oil sold under a certain quantity. As we had a goodvoyage in the ship, and came on shore with substantial linings to our pockets, we were always welcome visitors at the "publics," taking the wind out of the sails of all wool-droghers, soldiers, and bar-room loungers generally. It was "Get up, Jack, and let John sit down," when the Yankee whaler's men were coming. I made the acquaintance of an intelligent seaman at the Jolly Tar, a Philadelphian, who had been here some time, having been left sick in the hospital from an American brig, and was anxious to ship and go home with us if possible. Speaking of the landlord of the house, this Ashton said to me:

"You would hardly believe, would you, that this man was sent here with two pen'worth of lag?"

"Two pen'orth of lag!" said I, considerably mystified, "What do you mean by that?"

"It means," explained Ashton, "in the slang phrase used here, that he was transported for fourteen years. A term of seven years is called a pen'orth of lag, fourteen years two pen'orth, and so on."

"But you don't mean to say that he is a convict, now?" said I.

"Certainly," he returned, "but you must not use that word here; or, if you do, don't speak it so loud. Say a 'government man.' He is still under sentence. I don't know what his offence was, but a few years ago a small matter was enough to transport a man. The law is changed now, and the system is, I think, abolished altogether. No new ones are brought, and these you see here are old stock whose term of service has not yet run out."

"But can a convict, then, go into business for himself?"

"Yes, after he gets his ticket of emancipation, which is generally granted to him after two or three years of good behavior. He can then go to work for himself, and is, to all intents and purposes, free, except that he cannot go out of the colony. In most cases, they don't want to, as they are infinitely better off here than they would be in England. I am told that some of the wealthiest men in the colony are 'lags.'"

"But why was the system abolished?" I asked.

"Because, in its practical working, it proved worse than a failure. In fact, instead of checking crime, it was setting a premium upon it. It is said that men, who would like to emigrate to this country but could never accumulate money enough to pay their passage, would commit a theft, so as to be sent here at government expense. They would then conduct themselves well, so as to get their tickets of emancipation, go to work for themselves, and send home the means to bring their families out. Indeed, it is said there were not a few cases where the wife, too, committed theft in order to join her husband, for women were transported as well as men."

"But the system, if it did not prevent crime, answered the purpose of peopling the colony, I suppose?"

"Hardly that," said Ashton, "except with rogues and felons; for the really honest and industrious classes who form the great bulk of those who come to Australia, would hardly desire to emigrate to a penal settlement,full of desperadoes and thieves. The colony has not grown as fast in population under the system, as it would without it, or as it will hereafter. But here comes some of the crew of that whaling bark that got in this morning. She got seven hundred barrels, and left the ground, with whales plenty, because the men's time was up."

"Do they ship for a fixed length of time, then?"

"Yes, it is specified in the articles; and not only the length of the voyage, but the price they are to receive for their oil when they arrive. I went down to see the agents of the Lady Blackwood, that sailed yesterday. I had some idea of shipping, but they had already as many foreigners on the articles as the law allowed. They were ready to ship me if I would make oath that I was a British subject, but, of course, I declined doing so, and that was an end of the negotiation. We were to sign for eighteen months, and to have fifty pounds a tun for our oil, to have two glasses of grog a day and lime-juice, pursuant to the Act of Parliament, and the devil knows what else," said Ashton, with a laugh; "but come, let's go up to the 'Royal Victoria Theatre,' and spend the evening. The seamen will all rally there to-night, for 'Black-eyed Susan' is announced on the bills."

After the play was over, we came down to the Jolly Tar, and stepped in to take a parting glass, as I intended going on board in one of the wherries, several of which were moored near by, the watermen having a little watch-house, or shanty, where they could make themselves comfortable and where one or more ofthem could be found, ready for a job, at all hours of the night. It was getting late, and the public house was deserted and quiet, though not yet closed. There was no one in the bar when we entered, but a single small lamp was burning on a shelf. As Ashton was a boarder in the house, he was perfectly at home there, and he passed through into a back room to call some one to attend to our wants at the bar. While waiting for him, I saw the form of a stout man pass across the doorway, and disappear by a narrow entry or passage leading towards the back of the house. I saw that he had on a blue flannel shirt, such as English seamen usually wear, and supposing him to be a boarder about retiring for the night, gave no further thought to the matter. The landlord made his appearance to wait upon us, and, after taking our parting nip, we lingered a moment outside under the little veranda in front.

"There's a strange sail in these waters," said Ashton. "Did you see the man who went out at the back door while you stood in the bar?"

"Yes, I saw a man," I answered; "but thought he was one of the regular crew of the house. I shouldn't know him again if I met him, for I only had a glimpse of him for a moment, and that by a dim light."

"Well, that," said he, "is a runaway convict—I beg his pardon—a government man. He doesn't know me, but his face is familiar to me, for I have seen him several times at work; in the chain-gang, too. I suppose our landlord is hiding him, and he will lurk round here till he gets a chance to escape into thebush, or else to get on board of some vessel. However, it is none of my business. If he can make his escape, why, let him, I say."

"Well, so do I," I replied. "I don't think either of us would turn informer for the sake of the reward that may be offered for him. Well, good-night." I hailed a waterman, and in a few minutes was on board the Arethusa.

We were ready for sea within a few days after this occurrence, and, though we had enjoyed our stay at this port, we were all impatient to lift our anchor for the last time, as we hoped, before dropping it off Nantucket Bar. Peter, the Mani Kanaka, took his discharge here, as he had no desire to go to America, and had been offered a chance as boatsteerer in a Sydney whaler. I could not help feeling deeply at parting with the brave fellow, who had stood by me so faithfully in the adventure at Dominica, and whom I should probably never see again. My friend Ashton was shipped to fill this vacancy.

It was a fine morning when we hove short and loosed our foretopsail, with the stars and stripes flying at the mizzen peak, and waited for the police-boat which we saw pushing off to board us, as is done in the case of every vessel leaving this port. The first order of the officer in charge of the boat was to have the crew mustered. We were all drawn up on the quarter and main deck, our number counted, and our names called and responded to. We remained as we had been drawn up, while the police, armed with pistols and swords, proceeded to search the ship. This formis always gone through with on board of every outgoing vessel; but in our case the search was more rigidly conducted than usual. The cabin and forecastle were examined; the hatches were taken off, and the between decks rummaged by armed men in every direction; the galley, the round house, the boats, and every place above deck capable of concealing a man, were visited; and the cover was lifted off the tryworks to get a look into the pots. The result was satisfactory to the officer that all were on board who ought to be, and no others.

"Captain," said he, "I have detained you to make a strict search, for the reason that a notorious criminal, known as 'Galway Mike,' made his escape from the chain-gang a few days ago, and is still at large. He has probably gone back into the bush, for he got away once before, and was nearly two years a bushranger, and you know, I suppose, what sort of a life that is. It is but a few weeks since he was captured, and he has managed to get off again. But our search of your ship has been thorough, and I presume that you and your officers are willing to give your word of honor that there is no concealed man on board, to your knowledge."

Of course they were ready to do so.

"That is sufficient," said the boarding officer. "You can take up your anchor now, understanding, of course, that you are to hold no communication with the shore by boats after doing so. I am sorry to have delayed you so long, but my duty must be done. I wish you good-morning, and a pleasant voyage."

He had hardly landed at the pier, before our anchor was being bowsed up to the cat-head with the roaring chorus of "Time for us to go!" and, under our three topsails and jib, we were shooting out of our berth and threading our way among the fleet of shipping. The pilot left us when near "the Heads," and the long Pacific waves again tossed our noble ship along with her cutwater pointed homeward. We were busied in securing the anchors, and getting everything in sea trim generally, and, with a fresh breeze on our quarter, we had run the coast of New South Wales well into the dim distance before getting our meridian observation.

"Mr. Grafton," said the captain, as he took his quadrant from the case, "you may set the foretopmast-staysail. It will do some good with the wind out here on the quarter."

"Ay, ay, sir," answered the mate. "Stand by to hoist the staysail," said he, as he came forward. "Jump out there, Kelly, and cast that stop off."

The staysail had been furled ever since the night we let go our anchor in Sydney, being stowed flat down on the netting, and stopped with a short piece of small rope. Kelly had cast off the stop, and sung out "Hoist away!" when he nearly lost his balance and fell overboard, as the folds of the canvas opened before him, and a powerful, sun-browned man, with hair and beard close shaven, leaped out on the bowsprit, and stood staring into his astonished eyes.

"Hillo!" shouted the mate; "Who the devil is thisboarding us over the bows? Here, this way, you, sir! Where did you come from?"

The strange man had by this time jumped in on deck, and casting a glance astern at the dim outline of the land melting in the horizon, muttered:

"All right, he wont put back now to land me."

"That's the very man who was lurking round the Jolly Tar," said Ashton to me, as he came aft with the mate.

"Who are you?" asked Captain Upton. "A convict, I suppose, or you wouldn't be shaved and shingled so closely. Either an escaped convict, or a deserter from the army. Are you the man they were searching for this morning?"

The stranger folded his arms, and answered boldly:

"Yes, sir; I'm an escaped convict, as you call it, or as I should say, a runaway lag. I am the very man they were looking for this morning. My name is—never mind what it really is—I am best known as Galway Mike."

I observed that there was no Irish accent in his speech. The title by which he was known was evidently a misnomer.

"And how long have you been stowed away in the staysail?"

"Since last night, sir;" he replied.

"Did any of my crew help you, or stow you away?"

"No, sir. No one of them knew I was there until now, and you would not have known it till to-morrow, if you hadn't had occasion to hoist the sail."

"And what do you expect me to do with you now?"asked the captain, who was evidently impressed by the man's speech and bearing, and who had that repugnance that all seamen feel to delivering up to justice any man who has thrown himself on their protection. The certainty of a hundred pounds reward, would not, probably, have tempted a man of the ship's company to vote for putting back to land him, though none of us really wanted him as a shipmate.

"You'll do what you please with me, of course," answered the convict, coolly. "I don't care much what it is, so that you don't carry me back to the chain-gang. I hope you won't do that, sir."

"No, I'm sure I shall not do that, with a forty miles offing, a strong westerly wind, and homeward bound;" said the old man.

"Well, sir, I'm willing to do duty and act a man's part on board the ship," said Galway Mike. "I'm not much of a sailor, but I've been a short time at sea, and I'm strong and willing."

"But I don't want you;" replied the captain. "My crew list is full, and I shall not carry you to America, for no one there would thank me for it, if what is said of your past life is true."

"Never mind what is said of my past life, now, sir," he interposed; "I shall neither confirm nor deny anything. What is to be done with me, then?"

"I shall be obliged to land you somewhere in New Zealand, though I suppose that amounts to nearly the same thing as carrying you back to Sydney," said the old man, with a shade of regret.

"Not at all, sir," said Mike, "unless you put medirectly into the hands of the authorities. If you will land me so that I can have a few hours start of them, they may whistle for me. I'm quite willing to take my chance among the Maories."

"All right!" returned the captain, glad to be able to compromise with his sympathies in this way. "I shall make the land in a few days, and will set you ashore there somewhere. How did you get on board? by swimming?"

"Yes, sir. I swam under the bows, and climbed up the chain cable."

"Well, I must say you showed good judgment in selecting a hiding-place," said the captain, with a laugh. "What would you have done if we had set the staysail when we first got under way?"

"I say nothing about what I would have done under circumstances that did not occur," answered the man quietly. "I should have done all that could be done. It's not the first runaway business that I've had to do with."

"I presume not;" the captain replied, laughing again, for he was amused at the stranger's oddity and perfect coolness. "Well, go forward and tell the cook to give you some dinner with the rest, for you must be sharp-set by this time. I will do as well as I can by you, but I must get rid of you at New Zealand, anyhow."

"Thank you, sir!" answered Galway, as he passed forward among the crew.

"What do you think of him, Mr. Grafton?" said the old man.

"He's no Irishman. There's no Mike about him, nor Galway either," said the mate. "My honest belief is, that he is an American, though how he got out here as a transported convict I expect would be a long story. It's useless to askhimabout it, that's evident."

"Quite so," answered the captain. "But, come, I have lost my latitude, talking with him, and the steward is waiting dinner for us."

CHAPTER XXIII.HOMEWARD.—THE EPISODE OF GALWAY MIKE.—CAPE HORN.—THE LAST WHALE.The inspiring cry of "There she blows!" greeted our ears the third day after leaving Sydney, and two sixty-barrel bulls, tugging at the fluke-chains that night, were the rich reward of our hard day's labor, putting us all in high spirits, for another hundred barrels would fill the ship, and this we hoped to get somewhere on the passage. Our progress was somewhat delayed, of course, as we were obliged to lose the fair wind while cutting. We had the last "junk" in the tackles, when a sail was seen to windward running down across us, and, on drawing nearer, was made out to be a small hermaphrodite brig. He seemed to recognize us, for, instead of running down across us, he rounded to windward and lowered his boat. As he came up to the wind, exposing his broadside to view, we had no difficulty in recognizing a little brigantine that lay a little inshore of us, while in Sydney. "That's the Paramatta!" said a dozen voices at once, and no one knew her better than our supernumerary shipmate. He said not a word to those near him, but went aft to the captain. He stood respectfully on the lee side of the quarter deck, waiting till the old manshould be at liberty to notice him. Nothing in his manner or appearance indicated that he was at all disturbed or alarmed."Well, Mike," said the old man, as, shutting up his spyglass and turning round, he, for the first time, perceived him. "What's the word? You know that fellow, I suppose?""O, yes, sir. That's the Paramatta, bound to Auckland. I suppose it's all up with me.""How so?" asked the old man. "Do you mean to go on board and give yourself up?""No, sir, not I; I shall never go unless I am carried by force; but I thought perhaps you might give me up, as it would save you the trouble and delay of landing me at New Zealand. Perhaps I did you injustice in thinking so. I hope I did, sir.""Of course you did, Mike," said the captain, severely. "I gave you my word that I would land you, and I shall keep it. Perhaps you had better keep out of sight for the present, as I don't care to have it known that you are on board my ship, and some of the boat's crew might recognize you.""All right, sir," replied the convict. "I'll be all snug before they get here. His crew wouldn't be likely to blow upon me any more than yours would, but old Pickering himself would sell me at sight to get the reward. He would like nothing better than to take me to Auckland. You see he isn't a regular-built seaman, sir; he's a sort of 'long shore trader.""I see," said the old man. "Well, he won't be much the wiser for his visit to me. But here he is,close under our quarter. You wont need any instruction about hiding yourself, for you are qualified to teach me," he added, with a laugh, as Mike passed forward and vanished below the deck."It's very likely," said the old man, walking to the mainmast, and raising his voice for the benefit of all who might be within hearing, "that some inquiries will be made about that man who is not down by name on the ship's articles. As for myself, I don't mean to know anything about him. The rest of you, of course, are at liberty to turn informers, if you wish to. I should be sorry to think any of my men would do so, but I have no authority to dictate what subjects you shall talk about."He had said enough; Mike's secret was perfectly safe. Pickering, the skipper of the brigantine, a "comfortable" looking Englishman, with thin side whiskers, and a general roast-beef appearance, stepped on deck and shook hands with Captain Upton."Ah! captain, you've got a good cut, I see.""Yes," answered the old man. "We've had greasy luck, and got a couple of nice whales. When did you leave Sydney?""The same day that you did, in the afternoon. Have you got a strange man on board, captain?""I don't see any," said our conscientious skipper, glancing innocently forward among the groups of men. "Your harbor police overhauled me pretty severely before I tripped my anchor, andtheydidn't see any, either.""Yes, I noticed they spent some time on board ofyou. But there was a mighty stir among them within two hours after you left. The keeper of that public near the landing was arrested for having harbored and concealed him. Some one informed against him, and it was proved that this Galway Mike had been seen near the house the evening before, and so, instead of putting back into the bush, it was thought he had gone on board some vessel.""The Jolly Tar is fallen into melancholy, then, I suppose.""Yes," replied Pickering; "the landlord had his 'ticket' revoked, for he was a lag himself. He was lugged up to Hyde Park Barracks and put into uniform. He will have to serve out his time in the stone quarry.""But don't you think," asked the old man, "that if that convict had been on board the ship, he would have shown himself before this time?""Yes, he would," said the Englishman, "unless some of your men are parties to his concealment, and furnish him with food. In that case he might be concealed for some time.""So he might," said our captain, dryly. "That's true.""He may be hid somewhere on board at this moment," observed Pickering, in a low and mysterious tone."I shouldn't wonder," answered Captain Upton, in the same manner. "Or he may be on board the Paramatta.""He wouldn't be likely to run from New SouthWales to New Zealand, if he could get any other voyage. There's thirty pound reward offered for his apprehension," said Pickering."Is there, indeed? That's quite an object. But, come, let's go below and take something. I'm too busy to hunt for the man now, but if I should find him on board before I get to New Zealand, I'll land him there."They reappeared in a few minutes, and Pickering manned his boat and left us. The brigantine was soon running off on her course, and the convict was again at work among the rest."His fingers are itching for that thirty pounds, Mr. Grafton," said the old man. "He didn't make anything by coming here. I didn't tell him any lies though—or, at least, nothing but Quaker lies," said he, compromising with his conscience. The mate laughed, evidently understanding what he meant; but Mr. Dunham inquired his meaning."Well," said the captain, in explanation, "you don't remember Uncle Reuben the shoemaker, but Mr. Grafton does. I went there to be measured for a pair of boots, and, of course, I asked him when they would be done? 'Well,' said he, 'thee may come in seventh-day night.' So at the appointed time, I went for my boots, and he hadn't begun on them yet. I was much disappointed, for I expected to have worn them on Sunday, and I said to him, indignantly: 'You told me they would be done Saturday night.' 'O, no!' said Uncle Reuben, in his mild way; 'I didn't tell thee so. I told thee,thee might comeseventh-day night,and that was just what I meant. If they were done, thee could have them; if not, I would tell thee when to come again.' Now that was as near a lie as anything that I said to Captain Pickering."We finished boiling and stowing down our oil, and again cracked sail on the ship. On the twelfth day after leaving our port we made the North Cape of New Zealand, and the islands named, by Tasman, "The Three Kings." We stood in near the coast, looking for an eligible place to set our man ashore, and the old man said to him:"I suppose, Mike, you wouldn't want to be landed very near the Bay of Islands?""No," said the convict, "I would rather not. Put me among the Maories, and that is all I want. There is a headland here not far off. I'll tell you when we come to it. There, I can see it now," said Mike, who appeared to be better acquainted with the coast than any one on board. "There is the entrance to a snug, land-locked bay called by the natives, Wangaroa. It's not generally known to whalers yet, but will be visited more, by and by. Put me on the rocks, anywhere within the entrance, and I'll give you no more trouble. I am known among that tribe there. The English authorities will not find me, there. The Maories are in a state of war with the English, and they are not to be despised when they fight in their own way, among their native mountains."We hove to off the place indicated, and lowered our boat, taking the convict himself as our pilot. He shook hands heartily with everybody, seeming neither elatednor despondent, but self-collected and impassible as he always was. He took with him nothing but an old musket and some ammunition which the old man had given him. We rounded a point of rocks and pulled a short distance into the bay, when two Maories, on an elevation a short distance from us, hailed us, at the same time bringing their muskets up to the shoulder. We ceased pulling and lay on our oars. The convict rose and answered them in their own dialect, seeming to speak it quite fluently. They answered again, and a short conference seemed to produce satisfactory results, for they lowered their guns and descended the hill towards us, after giving a louder shout than any before, to which we could hear a responsive yell from voices further up the bay."They'll pass the word all the way over those mountains," said our cool and ready companion. "There's a chain of sentinels and pickets on every hill. It's all right; these fellows know me well. Lay right in for that flat rock, and I'll land there."We did so; he jumped out on the ledge of rock, and with a single "good-by" to us, he rushed up to meet the two natives half-way. They seemed to greet each other as former acquaintances might, and the three disappeared over the brow of the hill together, as we pulled out at the mouth of the bay. This was the last that any one of us ever saw of our "government man;" but some two years afterwards, I read, by accident, in a Sydney newspaper, an account of a smart and bloody skirmish between the English troops and the Maori tribes, and among the slain had beenfound the body of a white man, tattooed in the face like a chief of rank, and it was recognized as that of a desperado long known in the colonial settlements as Galway Mike. Thus read the statement in the Gazette, and this is all I know of his history.The passage across the South Pacific Ocean is monotonous and barren of incident. From New Zealand to Cape Horn we had rugged weather and strong winds, for the most part fair for running on our course, at times blowing, day after day, with the regularity of trades, again hauling a few points so as to trim for it on the other quarter, and in one or two instances increasing to a gale, so violent as to compel us to heave to for the safety of the ship. As we approached Cape Horn we again encountered the cutting hail squalls which seem almost peculiar to this part of the world, but with the wind aft, we did not mind them so much as when outward bound. Rolling off before the westerly gales with sufficient press of canvas on the ship to keep her well clear of the mountainous seas in chase of her, with everything well secured, and careful men at the wheel, we laughed at the weather now, and wondered at our own progress, as we counted off five, six, or seven degrees of longitude each day, and reckoned how many more days at this rate of sailing ere we should have room to edge away to the northward and begin to steal towards a milder climate. Degrees of longitude are short ones in this latitude, and we seem to be "putting a girdle round about the earth," if not, like Puck, "in forty minutes," yet still at a rate that appears to us marvellous, as we find ourclock nearly half an hour behind the sun each day at meridian, and push her ahead to keep her up to our flying rate of progress.Land ho! most welcome to our eager eyes, rough, barren and uninhabitable though it be, the storm-beaten rock of Diego Ramirez, for it tells us where we are, better than the whole slateful of figures. "Shake out another reef!" she'll bear it! another day's run, and we can shove her off north-east on the "home side of the land"—the towering seas gather and roll on after us—but keep the canvas on her and she will keep ahead of them—every one of them shoots her on towards "Home, sweet home"—Diego Ramirez fades into the dark squall astern, and if the wind stands where it is, we shall catch Cape Horn asleep. That squall has passed—it is not so heavy as it promised to be—"Give her the mainto'gallantsail!" We must make the most of the breeze while we have it, for we're homeward bound! The sun rises brightly this morning, and the wind is fresh yet, and canting to the southward—"Never mind! let her slide off two points, east-north-east now!" for we've plenty of sea room—we're in the Atlantic!We passed to the eastward of the Falklands, and were nearly on the ground where we lost our third mate, when outward-bound. Of course the melancholy circumstance was recalled, and talked over, and the captain mentioned that some twelve years previous, when mate of the Colossus, he had struck a whale in this vicinity, and lost him in consequence of his iron breaking."I hope," said he, "to see whales yet in crossing this ground. It bids fair to be a good day to-morrow, and I think we will shorten sail at night and let her jog easy, so as to take a good look along here. One large whale would be all we want to chock us off, and we would go home with flying colors."The next morning we had hardly got the reefs shaken out, when whales were raised. There were several of them, but they did not appear to run together, but were seen here and there in different directions, and were also irregular in their time of rising and going down."These whales have been gallied," said the old man, "and have not got regular yet. Some ship has been whaling here yesterday, I think. But here is one off the lee quarter that I think can be struck, Mr. Grafton. You and Mr. Dunham lower away and go down there and try him, and I will wait a while and take the ship's chance. If you get fast, I'll come down there to you."Away we went off to leeward, but it soon appeared that his whaleship was too shy for us, and was playing a dodge game with us. In vain we tried to "prick for him;" we spread our chances, and used our best judgment, but all to no purpose. He always rose in some unexpected quarter, and spouting but a few times, was down again before we could get near enough to "stand up." At length he took a start and went off to leeward at a round pace, and led on by our ardor in the chase we pursued it until we were full three miles from the ship, when it became evidentthat he was moving faster and faster at each rising, and we abandoned the chase, especially as the ship showed no signs of running off, but still lay aback in the same position as when we lowered. We laid round the heads of our boats towards the ship, and pulled to windward, wondering why the old man still kept his luff, when up went the ensign at the peak, and the small signal at the main was run up and down several times in rapid succession."Give way hard, boys!" said the mate. "We are wanted in a hurry. The old man must have lowered and struck a whale to windward, and wants help. Perhaps he's stove! spring hard and shoot her up there!"We put our strength to the oars with a will, the second mate keeping way with us, and, though doing our best, it seemed in our anxiety and impatience, that he did not make any headway. The signal was now and then run up and down again hurriedly, speaking the most urgent language of which it was capable. We saw men on the bearers, apparently trying to clear away the lashings of the spare boat which was turned up overhead, but soon this seemed to be abandoned. We could make out now, as we drew nearer, that the cooper was on the hurricane house, waving with all his might to us and thus stimulated to greater exertion, we toiled away at our oars, the boats jumping into the head sea, and sending the spray all over us. We could hear them hailing us from the ship, long before we could make out the words. We could see them pointing to windward, as if to tell us we were needed there. Up across thestern we held our long and strong stroke, receiving the information as we passed, that the old man had struck a whale off the weather bow, and he had run him into the "sun-glaze," so that they could not see him from the ship, and they thought he must be stoven. He could not be far off, however, as he was not more than a mile from the ship when last seen."Give way hard, boys!" said the mate again. "Brace forward, Cooper, and down tacks!" but he was already mustering his small force for this purpose. We "laid back" on our oars, the mates heaving at the stroke oars, and keeping a sharp look out, not pulling directly at the glare of the sun, but in a direction abaft it so as to look broad off the bow and beam of the boat. Soon the mate's countenance lighted, and he threw her head suddenly off with the steering oar."Here they are!" said he, "and not far from us, either! Spring hard, men! They're all on the wreck—two, four, five, six—all safe yet!"They were, indeed, all safe as yet; but we were none too soon, for they were nearly exhausted, as there was a smart sea on, washing over them, and they had all they could do to keep their positions, the strongest assisting and encouraging the others. My friend Ashton was almost gone when I dragged him into our boat; a few minutes more would have finished him. The whole bottom of their boat was crushed, she had filled and rolled over with them, and they had all clung to the bottom."Never mind the boat," said the old man, "sheisn't worth picking up. Set a waif for the cooper to tack and stand towards us. Let's get on board, some of us and get the spare boat out. I think we shall see the whale again if we work up to windward a tack or two."The ship went about, and soon hove to again close to us. We shot alongside, put the half-drowned men on board, and had hardly done so when the whale came up in the ship's wake, distance less that half a mile. "Shove off!" was the word, and we were after him again with two boats, while the captain with his force were already rousing the third one off the bearers. The second mate got the lead this time and was fast a few minutes after pushing astern of the ship. The whale rounded to, and "showed good play," and we were quickly on hand to let more blood from him. He was already weakened from his wounds, and a few touches of the lance made him our prize. The spare boat was not called into service; but another short tack with the ship, and with shouts of triumph that rang loud and clear over the sea, we hauled alongside our last whale, that was to "chock off" the between decks and fill all our spare casks. Our perils in the attack of these monsters were over, for this voyage. No more hard pulls to windward—no involuntary sea-bathing—no more tedious "mastheads" to be stood. Well might we shout over this "last but not least" of our hard-earned prizes.

HOMEWARD.—THE EPISODE OF GALWAY MIKE.—CAPE HORN.—THE LAST WHALE.

The inspiring cry of "There she blows!" greeted our ears the third day after leaving Sydney, and two sixty-barrel bulls, tugging at the fluke-chains that night, were the rich reward of our hard day's labor, putting us all in high spirits, for another hundred barrels would fill the ship, and this we hoped to get somewhere on the passage. Our progress was somewhat delayed, of course, as we were obliged to lose the fair wind while cutting. We had the last "junk" in the tackles, when a sail was seen to windward running down across us, and, on drawing nearer, was made out to be a small hermaphrodite brig. He seemed to recognize us, for, instead of running down across us, he rounded to windward and lowered his boat. As he came up to the wind, exposing his broadside to view, we had no difficulty in recognizing a little brigantine that lay a little inshore of us, while in Sydney. "That's the Paramatta!" said a dozen voices at once, and no one knew her better than our supernumerary shipmate. He said not a word to those near him, but went aft to the captain. He stood respectfully on the lee side of the quarter deck, waiting till the old manshould be at liberty to notice him. Nothing in his manner or appearance indicated that he was at all disturbed or alarmed.

"Well, Mike," said the old man, as, shutting up his spyglass and turning round, he, for the first time, perceived him. "What's the word? You know that fellow, I suppose?"

"O, yes, sir. That's the Paramatta, bound to Auckland. I suppose it's all up with me."

"How so?" asked the old man. "Do you mean to go on board and give yourself up?"

"No, sir, not I; I shall never go unless I am carried by force; but I thought perhaps you might give me up, as it would save you the trouble and delay of landing me at New Zealand. Perhaps I did you injustice in thinking so. I hope I did, sir."

"Of course you did, Mike," said the captain, severely. "I gave you my word that I would land you, and I shall keep it. Perhaps you had better keep out of sight for the present, as I don't care to have it known that you are on board my ship, and some of the boat's crew might recognize you."

"All right, sir," replied the convict. "I'll be all snug before they get here. His crew wouldn't be likely to blow upon me any more than yours would, but old Pickering himself would sell me at sight to get the reward. He would like nothing better than to take me to Auckland. You see he isn't a regular-built seaman, sir; he's a sort of 'long shore trader."

"I see," said the old man. "Well, he won't be much the wiser for his visit to me. But here he is,close under our quarter. You wont need any instruction about hiding yourself, for you are qualified to teach me," he added, with a laugh, as Mike passed forward and vanished below the deck.

"It's very likely," said the old man, walking to the mainmast, and raising his voice for the benefit of all who might be within hearing, "that some inquiries will be made about that man who is not down by name on the ship's articles. As for myself, I don't mean to know anything about him. The rest of you, of course, are at liberty to turn informers, if you wish to. I should be sorry to think any of my men would do so, but I have no authority to dictate what subjects you shall talk about."

He had said enough; Mike's secret was perfectly safe. Pickering, the skipper of the brigantine, a "comfortable" looking Englishman, with thin side whiskers, and a general roast-beef appearance, stepped on deck and shook hands with Captain Upton.

"Ah! captain, you've got a good cut, I see."

"Yes," answered the old man. "We've had greasy luck, and got a couple of nice whales. When did you leave Sydney?"

"The same day that you did, in the afternoon. Have you got a strange man on board, captain?"

"I don't see any," said our conscientious skipper, glancing innocently forward among the groups of men. "Your harbor police overhauled me pretty severely before I tripped my anchor, andtheydidn't see any, either."

"Yes, I noticed they spent some time on board ofyou. But there was a mighty stir among them within two hours after you left. The keeper of that public near the landing was arrested for having harbored and concealed him. Some one informed against him, and it was proved that this Galway Mike had been seen near the house the evening before, and so, instead of putting back into the bush, it was thought he had gone on board some vessel."

"The Jolly Tar is fallen into melancholy, then, I suppose."

"Yes," replied Pickering; "the landlord had his 'ticket' revoked, for he was a lag himself. He was lugged up to Hyde Park Barracks and put into uniform. He will have to serve out his time in the stone quarry."

"But don't you think," asked the old man, "that if that convict had been on board the ship, he would have shown himself before this time?"

"Yes, he would," said the Englishman, "unless some of your men are parties to his concealment, and furnish him with food. In that case he might be concealed for some time."

"So he might," said our captain, dryly. "That's true."

"He may be hid somewhere on board at this moment," observed Pickering, in a low and mysterious tone.

"I shouldn't wonder," answered Captain Upton, in the same manner. "Or he may be on board the Paramatta."

"He wouldn't be likely to run from New SouthWales to New Zealand, if he could get any other voyage. There's thirty pound reward offered for his apprehension," said Pickering.

"Is there, indeed? That's quite an object. But, come, let's go below and take something. I'm too busy to hunt for the man now, but if I should find him on board before I get to New Zealand, I'll land him there."

They reappeared in a few minutes, and Pickering manned his boat and left us. The brigantine was soon running off on her course, and the convict was again at work among the rest.

"His fingers are itching for that thirty pounds, Mr. Grafton," said the old man. "He didn't make anything by coming here. I didn't tell him any lies though—or, at least, nothing but Quaker lies," said he, compromising with his conscience. The mate laughed, evidently understanding what he meant; but Mr. Dunham inquired his meaning.

"Well," said the captain, in explanation, "you don't remember Uncle Reuben the shoemaker, but Mr. Grafton does. I went there to be measured for a pair of boots, and, of course, I asked him when they would be done? 'Well,' said he, 'thee may come in seventh-day night.' So at the appointed time, I went for my boots, and he hadn't begun on them yet. I was much disappointed, for I expected to have worn them on Sunday, and I said to him, indignantly: 'You told me they would be done Saturday night.' 'O, no!' said Uncle Reuben, in his mild way; 'I didn't tell thee so. I told thee,thee might comeseventh-day night,and that was just what I meant. If they were done, thee could have them; if not, I would tell thee when to come again.' Now that was as near a lie as anything that I said to Captain Pickering."

We finished boiling and stowing down our oil, and again cracked sail on the ship. On the twelfth day after leaving our port we made the North Cape of New Zealand, and the islands named, by Tasman, "The Three Kings." We stood in near the coast, looking for an eligible place to set our man ashore, and the old man said to him:

"I suppose, Mike, you wouldn't want to be landed very near the Bay of Islands?"

"No," said the convict, "I would rather not. Put me among the Maories, and that is all I want. There is a headland here not far off. I'll tell you when we come to it. There, I can see it now," said Mike, who appeared to be better acquainted with the coast than any one on board. "There is the entrance to a snug, land-locked bay called by the natives, Wangaroa. It's not generally known to whalers yet, but will be visited more, by and by. Put me on the rocks, anywhere within the entrance, and I'll give you no more trouble. I am known among that tribe there. The English authorities will not find me, there. The Maories are in a state of war with the English, and they are not to be despised when they fight in their own way, among their native mountains."

We hove to off the place indicated, and lowered our boat, taking the convict himself as our pilot. He shook hands heartily with everybody, seeming neither elatednor despondent, but self-collected and impassible as he always was. He took with him nothing but an old musket and some ammunition which the old man had given him. We rounded a point of rocks and pulled a short distance into the bay, when two Maories, on an elevation a short distance from us, hailed us, at the same time bringing their muskets up to the shoulder. We ceased pulling and lay on our oars. The convict rose and answered them in their own dialect, seeming to speak it quite fluently. They answered again, and a short conference seemed to produce satisfactory results, for they lowered their guns and descended the hill towards us, after giving a louder shout than any before, to which we could hear a responsive yell from voices further up the bay.

"They'll pass the word all the way over those mountains," said our cool and ready companion. "There's a chain of sentinels and pickets on every hill. It's all right; these fellows know me well. Lay right in for that flat rock, and I'll land there."

We did so; he jumped out on the ledge of rock, and with a single "good-by" to us, he rushed up to meet the two natives half-way. They seemed to greet each other as former acquaintances might, and the three disappeared over the brow of the hill together, as we pulled out at the mouth of the bay. This was the last that any one of us ever saw of our "government man;" but some two years afterwards, I read, by accident, in a Sydney newspaper, an account of a smart and bloody skirmish between the English troops and the Maori tribes, and among the slain had beenfound the body of a white man, tattooed in the face like a chief of rank, and it was recognized as that of a desperado long known in the colonial settlements as Galway Mike. Thus read the statement in the Gazette, and this is all I know of his history.

The passage across the South Pacific Ocean is monotonous and barren of incident. From New Zealand to Cape Horn we had rugged weather and strong winds, for the most part fair for running on our course, at times blowing, day after day, with the regularity of trades, again hauling a few points so as to trim for it on the other quarter, and in one or two instances increasing to a gale, so violent as to compel us to heave to for the safety of the ship. As we approached Cape Horn we again encountered the cutting hail squalls which seem almost peculiar to this part of the world, but with the wind aft, we did not mind them so much as when outward bound. Rolling off before the westerly gales with sufficient press of canvas on the ship to keep her well clear of the mountainous seas in chase of her, with everything well secured, and careful men at the wheel, we laughed at the weather now, and wondered at our own progress, as we counted off five, six, or seven degrees of longitude each day, and reckoned how many more days at this rate of sailing ere we should have room to edge away to the northward and begin to steal towards a milder climate. Degrees of longitude are short ones in this latitude, and we seem to be "putting a girdle round about the earth," if not, like Puck, "in forty minutes," yet still at a rate that appears to us marvellous, as we find ourclock nearly half an hour behind the sun each day at meridian, and push her ahead to keep her up to our flying rate of progress.

Land ho! most welcome to our eager eyes, rough, barren and uninhabitable though it be, the storm-beaten rock of Diego Ramirez, for it tells us where we are, better than the whole slateful of figures. "Shake out another reef!" she'll bear it! another day's run, and we can shove her off north-east on the "home side of the land"—the towering seas gather and roll on after us—but keep the canvas on her and she will keep ahead of them—every one of them shoots her on towards "Home, sweet home"—Diego Ramirez fades into the dark squall astern, and if the wind stands where it is, we shall catch Cape Horn asleep. That squall has passed—it is not so heavy as it promised to be—"Give her the mainto'gallantsail!" We must make the most of the breeze while we have it, for we're homeward bound! The sun rises brightly this morning, and the wind is fresh yet, and canting to the southward—"Never mind! let her slide off two points, east-north-east now!" for we've plenty of sea room—we're in the Atlantic!

We passed to the eastward of the Falklands, and were nearly on the ground where we lost our third mate, when outward-bound. Of course the melancholy circumstance was recalled, and talked over, and the captain mentioned that some twelve years previous, when mate of the Colossus, he had struck a whale in this vicinity, and lost him in consequence of his iron breaking.

"I hope," said he, "to see whales yet in crossing this ground. It bids fair to be a good day to-morrow, and I think we will shorten sail at night and let her jog easy, so as to take a good look along here. One large whale would be all we want to chock us off, and we would go home with flying colors."

The next morning we had hardly got the reefs shaken out, when whales were raised. There were several of them, but they did not appear to run together, but were seen here and there in different directions, and were also irregular in their time of rising and going down.

"These whales have been gallied," said the old man, "and have not got regular yet. Some ship has been whaling here yesterday, I think. But here is one off the lee quarter that I think can be struck, Mr. Grafton. You and Mr. Dunham lower away and go down there and try him, and I will wait a while and take the ship's chance. If you get fast, I'll come down there to you."

Away we went off to leeward, but it soon appeared that his whaleship was too shy for us, and was playing a dodge game with us. In vain we tried to "prick for him;" we spread our chances, and used our best judgment, but all to no purpose. He always rose in some unexpected quarter, and spouting but a few times, was down again before we could get near enough to "stand up." At length he took a start and went off to leeward at a round pace, and led on by our ardor in the chase we pursued it until we were full three miles from the ship, when it became evidentthat he was moving faster and faster at each rising, and we abandoned the chase, especially as the ship showed no signs of running off, but still lay aback in the same position as when we lowered. We laid round the heads of our boats towards the ship, and pulled to windward, wondering why the old man still kept his luff, when up went the ensign at the peak, and the small signal at the main was run up and down several times in rapid succession.

"Give way hard, boys!" said the mate. "We are wanted in a hurry. The old man must have lowered and struck a whale to windward, and wants help. Perhaps he's stove! spring hard and shoot her up there!"

We put our strength to the oars with a will, the second mate keeping way with us, and, though doing our best, it seemed in our anxiety and impatience, that he did not make any headway. The signal was now and then run up and down again hurriedly, speaking the most urgent language of which it was capable. We saw men on the bearers, apparently trying to clear away the lashings of the spare boat which was turned up overhead, but soon this seemed to be abandoned. We could make out now, as we drew nearer, that the cooper was on the hurricane house, waving with all his might to us and thus stimulated to greater exertion, we toiled away at our oars, the boats jumping into the head sea, and sending the spray all over us. We could hear them hailing us from the ship, long before we could make out the words. We could see them pointing to windward, as if to tell us we were needed there. Up across thestern we held our long and strong stroke, receiving the information as we passed, that the old man had struck a whale off the weather bow, and he had run him into the "sun-glaze," so that they could not see him from the ship, and they thought he must be stoven. He could not be far off, however, as he was not more than a mile from the ship when last seen.

"Give way hard, boys!" said the mate again. "Brace forward, Cooper, and down tacks!" but he was already mustering his small force for this purpose. We "laid back" on our oars, the mates heaving at the stroke oars, and keeping a sharp look out, not pulling directly at the glare of the sun, but in a direction abaft it so as to look broad off the bow and beam of the boat. Soon the mate's countenance lighted, and he threw her head suddenly off with the steering oar.

"Here they are!" said he, "and not far from us, either! Spring hard, men! They're all on the wreck—two, four, five, six—all safe yet!"

They were, indeed, all safe as yet; but we were none too soon, for they were nearly exhausted, as there was a smart sea on, washing over them, and they had all they could do to keep their positions, the strongest assisting and encouraging the others. My friend Ashton was almost gone when I dragged him into our boat; a few minutes more would have finished him. The whole bottom of their boat was crushed, she had filled and rolled over with them, and they had all clung to the bottom.

"Never mind the boat," said the old man, "sheisn't worth picking up. Set a waif for the cooper to tack and stand towards us. Let's get on board, some of us and get the spare boat out. I think we shall see the whale again if we work up to windward a tack or two."

The ship went about, and soon hove to again close to us. We shot alongside, put the half-drowned men on board, and had hardly done so when the whale came up in the ship's wake, distance less that half a mile. "Shove off!" was the word, and we were after him again with two boats, while the captain with his force were already rousing the third one off the bearers. The second mate got the lead this time and was fast a few minutes after pushing astern of the ship. The whale rounded to, and "showed good play," and we were quickly on hand to let more blood from him. He was already weakened from his wounds, and a few touches of the lance made him our prize. The spare boat was not called into service; but another short tack with the ship, and with shouts of triumph that rang loud and clear over the sea, we hauled alongside our last whale, that was to "chock off" the between decks and fill all our spare casks. Our perils in the attack of these monsters were over, for this voyage. No more hard pulls to windward—no involuntary sea-bathing—no more tedious "mastheads" to be stood. Well might we shout over this "last but not least" of our hard-earned prizes.

CHAPTER XXIV.HOMEWARD.The whale recognized as an old acquaintance.—Incidents of the run home.—Nantucket again.The last whale! How many pleasant recollections are associated with this landmark in the voyage! How many congratulations were exchanged among us, and how many smart things said! Sweethearts and wives are especially remembered, for both married and single are in high feather, and this is emphatically a red-letter day in the Arethusa's calendar. The work of cutting goes bravely on, amid a running fire of good-natured remarks and spicy jokes, which, of course, between the regular "natives" bear something of a personal character; for every true knight of the island chivalry in those days had his "ladie-love," whose image, held in fond remembrance, fired his heart and nerved his arm in his perilous encounters with leviathan. Each of our Nantucketers, on occasions like this, called to mind some fair face and form, his life-partner, eitherin esseor inposse; all had either wives tomaintain or wives toobtain. The captain himself is not slow to take part in this badinage, for we are cutting the last whale now, and it is a time to waive the little restraints of rank."This is a noble whale, and, being the last one, of course, the blubber is uncommonly fat," said he, as he drove his sharp spade into it, and slashed it into convenient pieces with true professional pride; "this is the one that pays for the bridal outfits and town clerk's fees. Let's see, Mr. Grafton, we shall get invitations to three weddings, certain. I don't know but more, but we may count on three.""Mr. Bunker thinks we needn't count on him," said the mate."Nonsense!" returned the old man. "He thinks we Newtowners don't know his cruising-grounds, because the first landfall he means to make is away up North Shore Hill. But he can't throw any dust in my eyes.""You didn't mean to count me, sir," said Fisher, "for I never have anything to do with the women.""No, of course not," said the captain. "I'll bet that within forty-eight hours after we all get our new sails bent, I shall meet you, head and head, coming down the fashionable side of Orange Street, with studdingsails out both sides—sweeping common folks like me right off into the gutter.""Well, I've got sisters, you know, sir," said Fisher with a half-blush. "I must show them round.""Yes, I know it; but, if the Fortitude gets home ahead of us,oneof your sisters wont want your services.""That's so," put in the second mate. "You can set a new studdingsail on that boom, Fisher.""There, you haven't a word to say, Mr. Dunham,"replied the captain. "If you were landed there to-day, there would be an invasion of 'Egypt,' and a 'rush to arms' in that quarter of the world that would equal anything in the days of Bonaparte. A-a-ah! my spade!" said he, suddenly changing his tone. "I've struck a ringbolt—no, it isn't—it's something in the blubber—head of an iron—somebody has had a crack at this whale before."He pulled it out, and wiped it off with a piece of canvas, scraped it lightly with his jackknife, and examined it with an incredulous look."Eureka!" he shouted at last, holding up the fragment of the harpoon. "Here's my iron! Who says he isn't my own whale, when he has carried my mark these twelve years!"It was even as he said. There was little more than the barbed head left, for it must have been long before the wound cicatrized, and the small part of the shank had been reduced to a mere shred of iron from the effects of long attrition and corrosion; but fairly legible on the thick centre-piece of the head were the marks boldly cut with a chisel, S. COL'S. L. B."Ship Colossus's Larboard Boat," said the old man, triumphantly. "Shouldn't want any more evidence in case of life and death. It's twelve years since I struck that fish—the first time, I mean."The last round of blubber has been "piked off;" the last pot of oil "baled down;" the last pipe stowed that "chocks off betwixt decks," and Old Jeff's immense "plantations" displayed in a triumphant doubleshuffleon the main hatches. Now comes the expected and welcome order. "Overboard tryworks!" Crowbars, hammers, or whatever else will serve the purpose, are seized, and rapidly the cumbrous pile of greasy bricks and mortar disappears under our vigorous blows, the pots alone being saved for the next voyage; the deck is washed and planed off where it had stood; and the old strainer, shattered by hard service, and half-charred by the fire, travels the same road, overboard. We are all astonished that our ship has such a spacious maindeck; and she herself, by her more buoyant and elastic movement, seems to share in the general joy, at being relieved of this unsightly burden.Still onward, homeward, she bounds along! down into the south-east trades, where the duty of dressing her up for home begins; where the operations of fitting, rattling down and tarring down furnish ample employment for us all; where outward-bound merchantmen are met, and passed every day, and longitudes compared by chalking them in gigantic figures on boards, like showmen's posters; where the south-east trades haul to north-east, and knock us off into the "bight of Brazil," compelling us to beat off and on for several days; wherecatamarans, or triangular rafts, fully officered and manned by one Portuguese, come off several miles to sea, to catch fish, and to sell them, too, if a passing ship comes conveniently near; where a big, black steamer, evidently of Yankee build, but wearing the gorgeous Brazilian flag, and showing the name "Bahiana," passes almost within hail of us. Weare favored with a slant of wind at last; Cape St. Augustin is doubled and left astern, the towers of Pernambuco are seen, with ships in the roadstead, and now the coast again trends to the westward, and is soon lost to our view."Sail ho!" a whaler, too, right from home! Now for a gam, for newspapers, perhaps letters, too, for some of us, for books, for tobacco! She hails us, and gives her name as the "Delta, of Greenport." No letters for us there; but we get bundles of New York papers, and peruse them, all four pages, from "clew to earring," advertisements and all. They are filled with politics, for this is campaign year (1844), and of course, we are highly competent, after nearly three years' absence, to understand the issues of the hour! Not a word is said about the National Bank, or the Sub-Treasury, or any of the old bones of contention which are familiar to us, but everything is Texas or no Texas. Henry Clay's name is prominent, and excites no wonder, for his fame has long been national; but "who is James K. Polk?"The equator is crossed, and now how we check off the degrees of latitude, day by day, as we run them up in the north-east trades, for we are on the home side of the line! Our rigging is all fitted and tarred down, and a coat of paint from the mastheads down to the water-line, inside and out, works a wonderful change in the appearance of our noble ship. How eagerly we hail the first patches of gulf-weed! and as we plough through immense quantities of it, day after day, and haul great snarls of it in on deck.wonder what is the use of it, and what becomes of it all, finally?We pass Bermuda without the usual heavy squalls characteristic of that locality, but off Hatteras we lie to a couple of days, and ride out a "clear nor'wester," which seems to blow out of the sun and stars, rather than the clouds. Block Island is our first landfall; and, leaving this on our port bow, we shape our course for the Vineyard Sound. It is nearly night when we see a pilot-boat coming for us, and every heart leaps with joy at the thought of soon being at anchor in a home port. Merrily we rouse up the chain cables from their rusty lockers, and tumble the anchors off the bow; our maintopsail is thrown aback, and the pilot-boat shoots up within hail."What shipisthis?" he asks."The Arethusa, of Nantucket.""O yes! how d'ye do, Captain Upton? You look deep," says the pilot."Full ship," replies the old man, rather proudly. "What's sperm oil worth?""'Bout eighty-five cents. Haint you got a piece of salt pork to spare, captain?""Yes, half a dozen," answers the captain, who, knowing the ropes, has it all prepared beforehand. "Here, pass this meat into the boat.""Now, haint you got a few fathoms of second-hand towline that you can spare as well as not? You see my peak-halyards, they're about worn out.""Here it is, waiting for you," says the old man, with a laugh. "It's the most remarkable thing, thata Sound pilot-boat's peak-halyards alwaysareabout worn out! Here, pass this coil of line into the boat. I suppose you can get us into Oldtown to-night, can't you pilot?""Well, I guess you don't want to go in there, captain. I can get you in to-night as far as Holmes' Hole, anyhow, and if it's fair weather in the morning I'll take you right down to the Bar, and the camels will take you in.""Ah, yes, the camels; they're a new institution that we've never seen yet. They've been built since we were away. Do they work well?""O, yes, indeed," says the pilot, "pick the ship right up, cargo and all, and back her into the harbor and drop her alongside of the wharf.""Good," says Captain Upton; "those are the very animals that I want to see.""I reckon the folks down to Nantucket are getting worried a little about you, captain. They heard from you on Japan, somewhere in the middle of the season, but they didn't hear of your being at the islands in the fall, when we got the reports from the fleet. 'Spose you made a port in some out-of-the-way place?""Yes, I made a running cruise of it, and didn't anchor till I made my last port in Sydney; so I've brought my own report from there."We ran into Holmes' Hole and anchored at nine o'clock among a large fleet of coasting vessels, who had made a harbor for the night like ourselves. Before daylight in the morning we were heaving up again, and, with a fair wind, we ran down for Nantucket Barwith all our bunting flying. Down goes our anchor again in the old berth which we left three years ago, the sails are rolled up to the yards in a hurry, and a boat is lowered to pull the captain ashore. The owner is seen with his horse and the inevitable green box on wheels, waiting on the cliff shore to receive him, and take him to the arms of his family. The boat pulls square in, and lands him on the north beach, and returns to the ship, for an immense black Noah's-ark-looking craft is already seen moving out of the docks in the harbor, which the pilot tells us is "the camels." Several boats soon arrive, with friends and relatives of the Nantucket men. Here is our worthy mate's son in one of them, a stout, well-grown lad and evidently a "chip of the old block;" and here in another boat is an embryo "Cape Horner," a young brother of Obed B., who is already shipped, and is to sail in a fortnight."Ah, Obed;" he says, as he hops in over the rail, with hands outstretched, and his nut-brown, young face lighted up with pleasure and excitement, "I'm going in the Ranger; and if you hadn't got home just as you did, you wouldn't have seen me for I don't know how many years. Yes, the folks are all well at home, and the camels will have you into the wharf before night. The steamer will be along soon. We've got a new steamboat, too, since you went away. Say, Obed, I got the dollar from Captain Upton's wife this morning. I was the first boy that knew it was the Arethusa. One of the men came down out of the old south tower, and told me what signal the ship had set,and I put for the captain's house. I got the dollar, and then I dug for another, for I knew where the mate's wife lived, too; but some other boys had found it out by that time, and I had a tight race for it with Jack Manter, but I was tired then, I had run so far, and Manter got ahead of me, and sung out first, as he rushed into the front entry, but I tumbled right in after him. Mrs. Grafton was scared half to death at first, till she understood what the matter was, and then she laughed and cried both at once, and handed out a dollar, and said we might divide it, if we liked, but it belonged to Jack, for he was a little ahead of me, and I didn't care much, for I'd got one. Some mates' wives don't give but half a dollar," said he, pausing to get breath.I cannot stop to hear any more, for here is Richards, still out-door clerk of Messrs. Brooks & Co., and he is the only man likely to have any news for us "off islanders." He is ready with a hearty greeting and hand-shaking, and is prepared to "infit" us with clothing of any style, price or quality, as soon as we land. He produces a bunch of letters which have been directed to various ships expected to arrive soon, "care of Brooks & Co.," and rapidly shuffles them over. Yes! there is my loved sister's handwriting, and here is another from my parents. I tear them open with a beating heart; all is well with those nearest and dearest to me. That is enough for the present. I will read the details when more at leisure, and in a few days I will be with them. I shall not write in reply, but, like the ship, I will bring home my own report."Here comes the camels round Brant Point!" cries the mate, running with the spyglass to look at the clumsy, floating dock which is creeping slowly at us, without any visible means of propulsion, so far as we can see, for the propellers are under the stern. It looks like nothing in the way of naval architecture that we have ever seen, but might serve as an immense floating battery, to be moored for the defence of a harbor. As it draws nearer, we can see that it is built in two parts, being divided lengthwise. The inside of each section or half is built concave to receive the hull of the ship, and to fit round her sides, and under her bilge and floor, as nearly as possible to its general form. The two parts are connected by several heavy chains, which are secured on the deck of one "camel," passing down through it under the keel of the ship, and up through the other, where they are hove taut with windlasses.The camels having taken up their position near the ship, the plugs are drawn, allowing them to fill with water and sink. Being now ready to receive the ship, our anchor is hove up, lines streamed, and she is hauled in between them. The connecting chains are then hove taut by the windlasses, and thus the ship is completely docked, her bottom resting fairly on the concave inner surfaces of the camels, and the chains passing under her keel. She is now ready to be raised, and as soon as the steamboat heaves in sight, returning from her regular trip to New Bedford the steam pumps are set in operation throwing out the water from the camels. The steamer passeswithin hail, and goes on into the harbor to land her mails and passengers, the captain promising to return at once and hook on to us. Meanwhile the steampumps work steadily on, throwing out the water, and the whole fabric is seen gradually to rise, inch by inch, till the water is all out, and the ship is lifted out of the water, the camels themselves being flat and the draft very light. We are just in time for the returning steamboat, hawsers are run to us, she takes us in tow, and after a short struggle to overcome thevis inertiæof the immense arklike contrivance, we move along under good headway. We round Brant Point and steam up nearly to the end of the wharf, when the steamer leaves us, the camels are filled and sink down again, the ship is dropped out from between them, lines run to the pier, and, in a few minutes, she is tied up head and stern alongside her wharf, and ready to discharge her oil. "Hurrah for the camels!" is the sentiment of every man on board, and of nearly every one on shore, too, except the lightermen whose "occupation is gone."Our old landlord is on hand to furnish us board and lodging at the old rates; Messrs. Brooks & Co. are in the same place, the same business operations are going on now as three years ago, and the same knots of seafaring men, or, at least, their very counterparts, pervade "the store," and pass their time in much the same manner. No one seems to have changed or grown any older. There is nothing new under the sun but the camels and the steamer "Massachusetts."Of course, we could not be paid off until the oil wasdischarged on the wharf, gauged, and filled up, so that our "lays" could be calculated exactly. This detained me several days; for, although I might have drawn money from the owners, or from Brooks & Co., yet I preferred to settle up the whole matter before going home to my friends, rather than to be under the necessity of returning to Nantucket. I, of course, took my place among the veteran whalemen, now. I had earned the right to wear a fine, blue roundabout, and morocco pumps, with long streamers of ribbon, to roll and swagger as becomes the "ancient mariner," and to patronize the green hands who formed the last cargo of the Lydia Ann, for that gallant craft is still running as good as new.The newly-arrived seaman, if he be man enough to keep himself sober, finds the time hang heavily on his hands. A restless activity is observable in all his movements, and some sort of excitement must be found to drive away the blues. Itisfound, at least so long as the money lasts. We patronized the livery stables extensively; for every day a string of carriages might be seen bound at racing speed to or from Siasconset, or "South Shore," the occupants urging the smoking horses to their greatest efforts, in desperate rivalry to "outsail" each other; and the cruise is a dull one, and wanting in interest, unless there is either a capsize, a breakdown, a runaway, or a collision. Jack is no horseman, though he is prone to think himself an excellent one. His courage and coolness in emergencies, perhaps, stand him in as good stead as would a better acquaintance with the management of theanimal, for he never becomes excited after the danger arrives, and never loses his self-possession at the very moment it is needed. It is owing perhaps to this fact, that he never gets hurt in these little equestrian diversions, though he often has heavy bills to pay for repairs, to the livery-stable proprietors.The bowling-alley is another of the seaman's favorite resorts, where he can strip to his shirt sleeves, select the heaviest balls, and sling them at the pins with a perfectabandonor "looseness," as he would term it. The game is muscular and boisterous, and these are its recommendations; for, it is notable that the whaleman, or at least, theyoungwhaleman, never affects billiards. Gentle exercise, such as can be taken with the coat buttoned, is not to his taste, until after he arrives at the rank of chief mate, and has more sedateness, and more dignity to maintain.But few days are allowed me to participate in the rough sports of my brother Cape Horners, for the stevedore's gang, and the laborers, with the gauger on the wharf have not been idle, and the "figurer," as he is called here (and who, by the way, is not one of the owners of the ship, but a disinterested party), is ready to settle up and pay us off. The next morning sees a goodly number of us on board the steamer, bound for our respective homes. We take our last look at the ship that has borne us in safety over so many thousand miles of ocean, as she now lies at the next wharf, high out of water, and in process of being stripped to a girtline, for she is to be fitted out again as fast as possible under command of Mr. Grafton. Hehas offered me a good berth in her, but I have not committed myself yet by any decided answer. Kelly and Hoeg are both going with him, as boatsteerers, of course, and perhaps some of the others. But I must visit my home in the country, and look about me a little before I make up my mind for another whaling cruise. In the meantime, I bid them a hearty farewell, as to all others who have accompanied me, either in the good ship herself, or in these sketches, through the pleasures and perils, the lights and shades of my checkered cruise in the Arethusa.THE END.

HOMEWARD.

The whale recognized as an old acquaintance.—Incidents of the run home.—Nantucket again.

The last whale! How many pleasant recollections are associated with this landmark in the voyage! How many congratulations were exchanged among us, and how many smart things said! Sweethearts and wives are especially remembered, for both married and single are in high feather, and this is emphatically a red-letter day in the Arethusa's calendar. The work of cutting goes bravely on, amid a running fire of good-natured remarks and spicy jokes, which, of course, between the regular "natives" bear something of a personal character; for every true knight of the island chivalry in those days had his "ladie-love," whose image, held in fond remembrance, fired his heart and nerved his arm in his perilous encounters with leviathan. Each of our Nantucketers, on occasions like this, called to mind some fair face and form, his life-partner, eitherin esseor inposse; all had either wives tomaintain or wives toobtain. The captain himself is not slow to take part in this badinage, for we are cutting the last whale now, and it is a time to waive the little restraints of rank.

"This is a noble whale, and, being the last one, of course, the blubber is uncommonly fat," said he, as he drove his sharp spade into it, and slashed it into convenient pieces with true professional pride; "this is the one that pays for the bridal outfits and town clerk's fees. Let's see, Mr. Grafton, we shall get invitations to three weddings, certain. I don't know but more, but we may count on three."

"Mr. Bunker thinks we needn't count on him," said the mate.

"Nonsense!" returned the old man. "He thinks we Newtowners don't know his cruising-grounds, because the first landfall he means to make is away up North Shore Hill. But he can't throw any dust in my eyes."

"You didn't mean to count me, sir," said Fisher, "for I never have anything to do with the women."

"No, of course not," said the captain. "I'll bet that within forty-eight hours after we all get our new sails bent, I shall meet you, head and head, coming down the fashionable side of Orange Street, with studdingsails out both sides—sweeping common folks like me right off into the gutter."

"Well, I've got sisters, you know, sir," said Fisher with a half-blush. "I must show them round."

"Yes, I know it; but, if the Fortitude gets home ahead of us,oneof your sisters wont want your services."

"That's so," put in the second mate. "You can set a new studdingsail on that boom, Fisher."

"There, you haven't a word to say, Mr. Dunham,"replied the captain. "If you were landed there to-day, there would be an invasion of 'Egypt,' and a 'rush to arms' in that quarter of the world that would equal anything in the days of Bonaparte. A-a-ah! my spade!" said he, suddenly changing his tone. "I've struck a ringbolt—no, it isn't—it's something in the blubber—head of an iron—somebody has had a crack at this whale before."

He pulled it out, and wiped it off with a piece of canvas, scraped it lightly with his jackknife, and examined it with an incredulous look.

"Eureka!" he shouted at last, holding up the fragment of the harpoon. "Here's my iron! Who says he isn't my own whale, when he has carried my mark these twelve years!"

It was even as he said. There was little more than the barbed head left, for it must have been long before the wound cicatrized, and the small part of the shank had been reduced to a mere shred of iron from the effects of long attrition and corrosion; but fairly legible on the thick centre-piece of the head were the marks boldly cut with a chisel, S. COL'S. L. B.

"Ship Colossus's Larboard Boat," said the old man, triumphantly. "Shouldn't want any more evidence in case of life and death. It's twelve years since I struck that fish—the first time, I mean."

The last round of blubber has been "piked off;" the last pot of oil "baled down;" the last pipe stowed that "chocks off betwixt decks," and Old Jeff's immense "plantations" displayed in a triumphant doubleshuffleon the main hatches. Now comes the expected and welcome order. "Overboard tryworks!" Crowbars, hammers, or whatever else will serve the purpose, are seized, and rapidly the cumbrous pile of greasy bricks and mortar disappears under our vigorous blows, the pots alone being saved for the next voyage; the deck is washed and planed off where it had stood; and the old strainer, shattered by hard service, and half-charred by the fire, travels the same road, overboard. We are all astonished that our ship has such a spacious maindeck; and she herself, by her more buoyant and elastic movement, seems to share in the general joy, at being relieved of this unsightly burden.

Still onward, homeward, she bounds along! down into the south-east trades, where the duty of dressing her up for home begins; where the operations of fitting, rattling down and tarring down furnish ample employment for us all; where outward-bound merchantmen are met, and passed every day, and longitudes compared by chalking them in gigantic figures on boards, like showmen's posters; where the south-east trades haul to north-east, and knock us off into the "bight of Brazil," compelling us to beat off and on for several days; wherecatamarans, or triangular rafts, fully officered and manned by one Portuguese, come off several miles to sea, to catch fish, and to sell them, too, if a passing ship comes conveniently near; where a big, black steamer, evidently of Yankee build, but wearing the gorgeous Brazilian flag, and showing the name "Bahiana," passes almost within hail of us. Weare favored with a slant of wind at last; Cape St. Augustin is doubled and left astern, the towers of Pernambuco are seen, with ships in the roadstead, and now the coast again trends to the westward, and is soon lost to our view.

"Sail ho!" a whaler, too, right from home! Now for a gam, for newspapers, perhaps letters, too, for some of us, for books, for tobacco! She hails us, and gives her name as the "Delta, of Greenport." No letters for us there; but we get bundles of New York papers, and peruse them, all four pages, from "clew to earring," advertisements and all. They are filled with politics, for this is campaign year (1844), and of course, we are highly competent, after nearly three years' absence, to understand the issues of the hour! Not a word is said about the National Bank, or the Sub-Treasury, or any of the old bones of contention which are familiar to us, but everything is Texas or no Texas. Henry Clay's name is prominent, and excites no wonder, for his fame has long been national; but "who is James K. Polk?"

The equator is crossed, and now how we check off the degrees of latitude, day by day, as we run them up in the north-east trades, for we are on the home side of the line! Our rigging is all fitted and tarred down, and a coat of paint from the mastheads down to the water-line, inside and out, works a wonderful change in the appearance of our noble ship. How eagerly we hail the first patches of gulf-weed! and as we plough through immense quantities of it, day after day, and haul great snarls of it in on deck.wonder what is the use of it, and what becomes of it all, finally?

We pass Bermuda without the usual heavy squalls characteristic of that locality, but off Hatteras we lie to a couple of days, and ride out a "clear nor'wester," which seems to blow out of the sun and stars, rather than the clouds. Block Island is our first landfall; and, leaving this on our port bow, we shape our course for the Vineyard Sound. It is nearly night when we see a pilot-boat coming for us, and every heart leaps with joy at the thought of soon being at anchor in a home port. Merrily we rouse up the chain cables from their rusty lockers, and tumble the anchors off the bow; our maintopsail is thrown aback, and the pilot-boat shoots up within hail.

"What shipisthis?" he asks.

"The Arethusa, of Nantucket."

"O yes! how d'ye do, Captain Upton? You look deep," says the pilot.

"Full ship," replies the old man, rather proudly. "What's sperm oil worth?"

"'Bout eighty-five cents. Haint you got a piece of salt pork to spare, captain?"

"Yes, half a dozen," answers the captain, who, knowing the ropes, has it all prepared beforehand. "Here, pass this meat into the boat."

"Now, haint you got a few fathoms of second-hand towline that you can spare as well as not? You see my peak-halyards, they're about worn out."

"Here it is, waiting for you," says the old man, with a laugh. "It's the most remarkable thing, thata Sound pilot-boat's peak-halyards alwaysareabout worn out! Here, pass this coil of line into the boat. I suppose you can get us into Oldtown to-night, can't you pilot?"

"Well, I guess you don't want to go in there, captain. I can get you in to-night as far as Holmes' Hole, anyhow, and if it's fair weather in the morning I'll take you right down to the Bar, and the camels will take you in."

"Ah, yes, the camels; they're a new institution that we've never seen yet. They've been built since we were away. Do they work well?"

"O, yes, indeed," says the pilot, "pick the ship right up, cargo and all, and back her into the harbor and drop her alongside of the wharf."

"Good," says Captain Upton; "those are the very animals that I want to see."

"I reckon the folks down to Nantucket are getting worried a little about you, captain. They heard from you on Japan, somewhere in the middle of the season, but they didn't hear of your being at the islands in the fall, when we got the reports from the fleet. 'Spose you made a port in some out-of-the-way place?"

"Yes, I made a running cruise of it, and didn't anchor till I made my last port in Sydney; so I've brought my own report from there."

We ran into Holmes' Hole and anchored at nine o'clock among a large fleet of coasting vessels, who had made a harbor for the night like ourselves. Before daylight in the morning we were heaving up again, and, with a fair wind, we ran down for Nantucket Barwith all our bunting flying. Down goes our anchor again in the old berth which we left three years ago, the sails are rolled up to the yards in a hurry, and a boat is lowered to pull the captain ashore. The owner is seen with his horse and the inevitable green box on wheels, waiting on the cliff shore to receive him, and take him to the arms of his family. The boat pulls square in, and lands him on the north beach, and returns to the ship, for an immense black Noah's-ark-looking craft is already seen moving out of the docks in the harbor, which the pilot tells us is "the camels." Several boats soon arrive, with friends and relatives of the Nantucket men. Here is our worthy mate's son in one of them, a stout, well-grown lad and evidently a "chip of the old block;" and here in another boat is an embryo "Cape Horner," a young brother of Obed B., who is already shipped, and is to sail in a fortnight.

"Ah, Obed;" he says, as he hops in over the rail, with hands outstretched, and his nut-brown, young face lighted up with pleasure and excitement, "I'm going in the Ranger; and if you hadn't got home just as you did, you wouldn't have seen me for I don't know how many years. Yes, the folks are all well at home, and the camels will have you into the wharf before night. The steamer will be along soon. We've got a new steamboat, too, since you went away. Say, Obed, I got the dollar from Captain Upton's wife this morning. I was the first boy that knew it was the Arethusa. One of the men came down out of the old south tower, and told me what signal the ship had set,and I put for the captain's house. I got the dollar, and then I dug for another, for I knew where the mate's wife lived, too; but some other boys had found it out by that time, and I had a tight race for it with Jack Manter, but I was tired then, I had run so far, and Manter got ahead of me, and sung out first, as he rushed into the front entry, but I tumbled right in after him. Mrs. Grafton was scared half to death at first, till she understood what the matter was, and then she laughed and cried both at once, and handed out a dollar, and said we might divide it, if we liked, but it belonged to Jack, for he was a little ahead of me, and I didn't care much, for I'd got one. Some mates' wives don't give but half a dollar," said he, pausing to get breath.

I cannot stop to hear any more, for here is Richards, still out-door clerk of Messrs. Brooks & Co., and he is the only man likely to have any news for us "off islanders." He is ready with a hearty greeting and hand-shaking, and is prepared to "infit" us with clothing of any style, price or quality, as soon as we land. He produces a bunch of letters which have been directed to various ships expected to arrive soon, "care of Brooks & Co.," and rapidly shuffles them over. Yes! there is my loved sister's handwriting, and here is another from my parents. I tear them open with a beating heart; all is well with those nearest and dearest to me. That is enough for the present. I will read the details when more at leisure, and in a few days I will be with them. I shall not write in reply, but, like the ship, I will bring home my own report.

"Here comes the camels round Brant Point!" cries the mate, running with the spyglass to look at the clumsy, floating dock which is creeping slowly at us, without any visible means of propulsion, so far as we can see, for the propellers are under the stern. It looks like nothing in the way of naval architecture that we have ever seen, but might serve as an immense floating battery, to be moored for the defence of a harbor. As it draws nearer, we can see that it is built in two parts, being divided lengthwise. The inside of each section or half is built concave to receive the hull of the ship, and to fit round her sides, and under her bilge and floor, as nearly as possible to its general form. The two parts are connected by several heavy chains, which are secured on the deck of one "camel," passing down through it under the keel of the ship, and up through the other, where they are hove taut with windlasses.

The camels having taken up their position near the ship, the plugs are drawn, allowing them to fill with water and sink. Being now ready to receive the ship, our anchor is hove up, lines streamed, and she is hauled in between them. The connecting chains are then hove taut by the windlasses, and thus the ship is completely docked, her bottom resting fairly on the concave inner surfaces of the camels, and the chains passing under her keel. She is now ready to be raised, and as soon as the steamboat heaves in sight, returning from her regular trip to New Bedford the steam pumps are set in operation throwing out the water from the camels. The steamer passeswithin hail, and goes on into the harbor to land her mails and passengers, the captain promising to return at once and hook on to us. Meanwhile the steampumps work steadily on, throwing out the water, and the whole fabric is seen gradually to rise, inch by inch, till the water is all out, and the ship is lifted out of the water, the camels themselves being flat and the draft very light. We are just in time for the returning steamboat, hawsers are run to us, she takes us in tow, and after a short struggle to overcome thevis inertiæof the immense arklike contrivance, we move along under good headway. We round Brant Point and steam up nearly to the end of the wharf, when the steamer leaves us, the camels are filled and sink down again, the ship is dropped out from between them, lines run to the pier, and, in a few minutes, she is tied up head and stern alongside her wharf, and ready to discharge her oil. "Hurrah for the camels!" is the sentiment of every man on board, and of nearly every one on shore, too, except the lightermen whose "occupation is gone."

Our old landlord is on hand to furnish us board and lodging at the old rates; Messrs. Brooks & Co. are in the same place, the same business operations are going on now as three years ago, and the same knots of seafaring men, or, at least, their very counterparts, pervade "the store," and pass their time in much the same manner. No one seems to have changed or grown any older. There is nothing new under the sun but the camels and the steamer "Massachusetts."

Of course, we could not be paid off until the oil wasdischarged on the wharf, gauged, and filled up, so that our "lays" could be calculated exactly. This detained me several days; for, although I might have drawn money from the owners, or from Brooks & Co., yet I preferred to settle up the whole matter before going home to my friends, rather than to be under the necessity of returning to Nantucket. I, of course, took my place among the veteran whalemen, now. I had earned the right to wear a fine, blue roundabout, and morocco pumps, with long streamers of ribbon, to roll and swagger as becomes the "ancient mariner," and to patronize the green hands who formed the last cargo of the Lydia Ann, for that gallant craft is still running as good as new.

The newly-arrived seaman, if he be man enough to keep himself sober, finds the time hang heavily on his hands. A restless activity is observable in all his movements, and some sort of excitement must be found to drive away the blues. Itisfound, at least so long as the money lasts. We patronized the livery stables extensively; for every day a string of carriages might be seen bound at racing speed to or from Siasconset, or "South Shore," the occupants urging the smoking horses to their greatest efforts, in desperate rivalry to "outsail" each other; and the cruise is a dull one, and wanting in interest, unless there is either a capsize, a breakdown, a runaway, or a collision. Jack is no horseman, though he is prone to think himself an excellent one. His courage and coolness in emergencies, perhaps, stand him in as good stead as would a better acquaintance with the management of theanimal, for he never becomes excited after the danger arrives, and never loses his self-possession at the very moment it is needed. It is owing perhaps to this fact, that he never gets hurt in these little equestrian diversions, though he often has heavy bills to pay for repairs, to the livery-stable proprietors.

The bowling-alley is another of the seaman's favorite resorts, where he can strip to his shirt sleeves, select the heaviest balls, and sling them at the pins with a perfectabandonor "looseness," as he would term it. The game is muscular and boisterous, and these are its recommendations; for, it is notable that the whaleman, or at least, theyoungwhaleman, never affects billiards. Gentle exercise, such as can be taken with the coat buttoned, is not to his taste, until after he arrives at the rank of chief mate, and has more sedateness, and more dignity to maintain.

But few days are allowed me to participate in the rough sports of my brother Cape Horners, for the stevedore's gang, and the laborers, with the gauger on the wharf have not been idle, and the "figurer," as he is called here (and who, by the way, is not one of the owners of the ship, but a disinterested party), is ready to settle up and pay us off. The next morning sees a goodly number of us on board the steamer, bound for our respective homes. We take our last look at the ship that has borne us in safety over so many thousand miles of ocean, as she now lies at the next wharf, high out of water, and in process of being stripped to a girtline, for she is to be fitted out again as fast as possible under command of Mr. Grafton. Hehas offered me a good berth in her, but I have not committed myself yet by any decided answer. Kelly and Hoeg are both going with him, as boatsteerers, of course, and perhaps some of the others. But I must visit my home in the country, and look about me a little before I make up my mind for another whaling cruise. In the meantime, I bid them a hearty farewell, as to all others who have accompanied me, either in the good ship herself, or in these sketches, through the pleasures and perils, the lights and shades of my checkered cruise in the Arethusa.

THE END.

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