their up-country journey, after bidding me a most cordial farewell,
accompanied by the hope that they might find me still in port upon their
return. I felt exceedingly sorry to part with them, and told them so;
adding that I could not entertain the hope of seeing them again, on that
side of the world at least, since they expected to be absent from Sydney
for at least a month, by the end of which time I hoped to be some
distance on my way to the treasure island. But I gave them a faithful
promise to write to them on my return to England, acquainting them with
the issue of my adventure, even should I find myself unable to accept
the pressing invitation they gave me to visit them at their place in
Devonshire.

Sydney, as everybody knows, is a fairly busy port, and can always make a
goodly display of shipping; at least, that is my experience of the
place, and I had been there thrice prior to the period of this story;
but, knowing--as I thought I did--something about the annual amount of
tonnage using the harbour, I was astounded at the vast fleet of craft of
all rigs and sizes that met my gaze when I beheld the noble city for the
fourth time. The anchorage seemed literally packed with them; and it
required some very delicate manoeuvring on the part of our pilot to take
us to our berth without running foul of something. Fortunately for us--
and possibly also for some of the other craft--there was a nice working
breeze blowing at the time; and, the _Esmeralda_ happening moreover to
be an exceptionally smart and handy vessel under canvas, we managed to
thread our way in and out among the fleet without hurting ourselves or
anybody else. The pilot observed the wondering glances I cast around me
as we made our way up the harbour, and remarked, with a smile, and in a
semi-confidential tone of voice--

"Curious sight, isn't it, sir?"

"Very," I agreed. "And the most curious part of it, to my mind, is the
_deserted_ look of the craft, everywhere. Most of them appear to be
loaded and apparently ready for sea, yet in scarcely any of them is more
than a single person to be seen; while many of them appear to have
absolutely nobody at all on board."

"That's just how it is with them, sir. There's upwards of a hundred
sail of vessels at anchor round about us at this present minute, without
a soul aboard to look after 'em. Deserted by all hands, from the
skipper to the cabin-boy, and left to take care of themselves while
their