dockyard basin if I did not get out to Australia. We
sat for at least an hour over our ale, talking very earnestly, and when
we arose and bade each other farewell I had settled with him what to do.

The "Huntress" was a large frigate-built ship of 1400 tons. On the
morning of the day on which she was to haul out of dock I went on board
of her. Nobody took any notice of me. The vessel was full of
business, clamorous with the life and hurry of the start for the other
side of the world. Cargo was still swinging over the main hold, down
whose big, dark square a tall, strong, red-bearded chief mate was
roaring to the stevedore's men engulfed in the bowels of the ship. A
number of drunken sailors were singing and cutting capers on the
forecastle. The main-deck was full of steerage, or, as they were then
termed, 'tweendeck passengers--grimy men, and seedy women and wailing
babes, and frightened, staring children. I did not pause to muse upon
the scene, nor did I gaze aloft at the towering spars, where, forward,
up in the dingy sky of the Isle of Dogs, floated that familiar symbol
of departure, Blue Peter. I saw several young men in shining buttons
and cloth caps with gold badges, and knew them to be midshipmen, and
envied them. Every instant I expected to be ordered out of the ship by
some one with hurricane lungs and a vast command of injurious language,
and my heart beat fast. I made my way to the cuddy front, and just as
I halted beside a group of women at the booby hatch, James Back came to
the door of the saloon. He motioned to me with a slight toss of his
head.

"Don't look about you," he whispered; "just follow me straight."

I stepped after him into the saloon. It was like entering a grand
drawing-room. Mirrors and silver lamps sparkled; the panelled
bulkheads were rich with hand paintings; flowers hung in plenty under
the skylight; goldfish gleamed as they circled in globes of crystal.
These things and more I beheld in the space of a few heart-beats.

I went after James Back down a wide staircase that sank through a large
hatch situated a dozen paces from the cuddy front. When I reached the
bottom I found myself in a long corridor, somewhat darksome, with
cabins on either hand. Back took me into one of those cabins and
closed the door.

"Now listen, Mr. Peploe," said he. "I'm going to shut you down in the
lazarette." He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, on which was a
rude tracing. "This