the eye. In his jet-black felt,
my poetry-critic looked the picture of a member of the _Athenaeum_ staff
(lamented _Athenaeum_!). Others wore the type of hat but not the manner. A
number of matey caps, check and khaki and indigo, then white wideawakes as
though for haymaking, and a few pillbox-like creations in crimson and
daffodil, made part of the splendour. Some of the coalheavers wore
large sashes amidships, sashes of lurid colour also, violet and plum,
extra shade. In the shirts, more colour appeared. Here, like Aurora,
stepped Antonio in salmon pink; there, was a construction of red and
green rings on a white background. The bright-blue cotton suits added
to the general effect. Curious that these workers should come so clean,
only to be coated with coal-dust in half an hour! It spoke well for their
outlook.

The work was much as before. Wheelbarrows had to be got to put the sacks
beside other hatches which the winch did not command. The chief had some
argument with the Italian foreman about the last two hundred bags, which
he wished to be shot into the starboard hatch only, to bring the ship up
straight. The foreman asked him to withdraw this. "Damn you!" roared
Phillips, and put an end to the matter, "when I say NO I mean NO. Don't
you understand plain English?"

So that was that, and my job finished. The bosun and his worthies
quickly gathered to remove the disgraceful signs of bunkering; they swept
and garnished, the stylish shipping clerk came aboard with his final
papers to see Hosea and Phillips. Already the pilot was on the bridge;
soon we were slowly backing away from our mooring. The blue peter was
hauled down, the gangway got in. The _Bonadventure_ was manoeuvred past
the breakwaters and down the marked channel, at whose last buoy, or soon
afterwards, the tug to fetch the pilot came alongside. As he withdrew
in her she sounded the three blasts or rather hoots meaning a "Bon
voyage," and our own burly voice sounded three times in acknowledgment.
The many turrets and spires, chimneys and gaunt roofs of Monte Video,
distinctly ranged along a rainy sky with shelves of rock-like cloud,
lessened duly; the evening came on. Still the coast appeared here and
there, its yellow sands, its dark-blue cliffs and hills, and as if
shouldering the dull and heavy sky the sun burned out with a golden power
before he departed.

Mead bade good-bye for a short time--in all probability--and myself for
a long time, to South