we have landed them at Billingsgate. Although
the mate had not succeeded as well as we, the catch of the two boats
aggregated half a ton, not a fish among the lot less than five pounds
weight, and one of a hundred and twenty--the yellow-tail aforesaid. As
soon as we reached the ship, the boats were run up, sails filled, and
away we lumbered again towards New Zealand.

As the great mass of that solitary mountain faded away in the gathering
shades of evening, it was impossible to help remembering the sufferings
of that afflicted family, confined to those trembling, sulphurous,
ash-bestrewn rocks, amid gloom by day, and unnatural glare by night, for
all that weary while. And while I admit that there is to some people a
charm in being alone with nature, it is altogether another thing when
your solitude becomes compulsory, your paradise a prison from which you
cannot break away. There are many such nooks scattered about the ocean,
where men have hidden themselves away from the busy world, and been
forgotten by it; but few of them, I fancy, offer such potentialities of
terror as Sunday Island.

We had hardly lost sight of the land, when Polly's capture gave birth
to a kid. This event was the most interesting thing that had happened
on board for a great while, and the funny little visitor would have
run great risk of being completely spoiled had he lived. But, to our
universal sorrow, the mother's milk failed--from want of green food, I
suppose--and we were obliged to kill the poor little chap to save him
from being starved to death. He made a savoury mess for some
whose appetite for flesh-meat was stronger than any sentimental
considerations.

To an ordinary trader, the distance between the Kermadecs and the Bay of
Islands, New Zealand, roughly represents a couple of days' sail; but to
us, who were apparently incapable of hurry under any circumstances, it
meant a good week's bludgeoning the protesting waves before the grim
outliers of the Three Kings came into view. Even then, although the
distance was a mere bagatelle, it was another two days before we arrived
off that magnificent harbour where reposes the oldest township in New
Zealand--Russell, where rest the mortal remains of the first really
Pakeha Maori, but which, for some unaccountable reason, is still left
undeveloped and neglected, visited only by the wandering whalers (in
ever-decreasing numbers) and an occasional trim, business-like, and
gentlemanly man-o'-war,