ided Paddy as
if he were a leper--hated the sight of him, in fact, as did most of his
CONFRERES; but our genial skipper, whose crew were every whit as well
treated and contented as the CHANCE's, and who therefore needed not to
dread losing them, met the little philanthropist on the most friendly
terms.

The first fine weather, which came four days after our arrival, both
our harbour mates cleared out. Characteristically, the CHANCE was away
first, before daylight had quite asserted itself, and while the bases of
the cliffs and tops of the rocks were as yet hidden in dense wreaths of
white haze. Paddy lolled on the taff-rail near the wheel, which was held
by an immense half-breed, who leant back and carried on a desultory,
familiar conversation with his skipper; the rest of the crew were
scattered about the decks, apparently doing what they liked in any
manner they chose. The anchor was being catted, sails going up, and
yards being trimmed; but, to observers like us, no guiding spirit was
noticeable. It seemed to work all right, and the old ark herself looked
as if she was as intelligent as any of them; but the sight was not an
agreeable one to men accustomed to discipline. The contrast when the
TAMERLANE came along an hour or so after was emphatic. Every man at
his post; every order carried out with the precision of clockwork;
the captain pacing the quarter-deck as if she were a line-of-battle
ship--here the airs put on were almost ludicrous in the other direction.
Although she was only "a good jump" long, as we say, whenever an order
was given, it was thundered out as if the men were a mile away each
officer appearing to vie with the others as to who could bellow the
loudest. That was carrying things to the opposite extreme, and almost
equally objectionable to merchant seamen.

We were thus left alone to finish our trying-out except for such company
as was afforded by the only resident's little schooner, in which he went
oyster-dredging. It was exceedingly comfortable in the small harbour,
and the fishing something to remember all one's life. That part of New
Zealand is famous for a fish something like a bream, but with a longer
snout, and striped longitudinally with black and yellow. I am ignorant
of any polysyllabic prefix for it, only knowing it by its trivial and
local appellation of the "trumpeter," from the peculiar sound it makes
when out of water. But no other fish out of the innumerable varieties
which I hav