sold _The Dove_ (as the schooner was called), and also having dined
exceedingly well at the one hotel then in Apia, became very talkative.

"I can tell you, gentlemen, that _The Dove_, although she is not a new
ship, is as strong and sound as if she were only just built. I have had
her now for nearly thirteen years, and have made my little fortune by
her, and I could kiss her, from the end of her jibboom to the upper
rudder gudgeon. But I am an old man now, and want to go back to my own
country to die among my people--or else"--and here he twisted his long
moustaches and laughed hilariously--"settle down in England, and become
a grand man like old General Rosas of South America, and die pious, and
have a bishop and a mile-long procession at my funeral."

The partners joined the old sailor in his laugh, and then Marsh said
casually, and to make conversation:--

"By-the-way, Captain, where did you buy _The Dove?_"

"I didn't buy her, my bold breezy lads. And I didn't steal her, as many
a ship is stolen in the South Seas. I came by her honestly enough."

"A present?" said Meredith interrogatively.

"Wrong, my lad--neither was she a present" Then the ancient squared
his broad shoulders, helped himself to some refreshment (more than was
needed for his good) and clapping Marsh on the shoulder, said: "I'll
tell you the yarn, my lads--for you are only lads, aren't you? Well,
here it is:--

"About twelve or thirteen years ago I was mate of a San Francisco
trading brig, the _Lola Montez_, and one afternoon, when we were running
down the east coast of New Caledonia, we sighted a vessel drifting in
shore--this very same schooner. The skipper of the brig sent me with a
boat's crew to take possession of her--for we could see that no one was
on board.

"I boarded her and found that her decks had been swept by a heavy
sea--which, I suppose, had carried away every one on board. I overhauled
the cabin, but could not find her papers, but her name was on the
stern--_Meta_."

Marsh started, and was about to speak, but the old skipper went on:--

"During the night heavy weather came on, and the _Lola Montez_ and the
_Meta_ parted company. The _Lola_ was never heard of again--she was old
and as rotten as an over-ripe pear, and I suppose her seams opened, and
she went down.

"So I stuck to the _Meta_ brought her to Sydney, and re-named her _The
Dove_. And she's a bully little ship, I can tell you. I think that she
was built in t