the evenings and moonlight nights spent
wildfowl shooting in the bogs in the cold, I got rheumatic fever, and
once more returned to hospital. My illness, which became very serious,
led to my being ordered the longest sea voyage I could take, in the hopes
of regaining my strength. This necessitated my resigning my commission
and taking my passage for a trip to New Zealand, though the doctors did
not seem to think I should reach that far-off land. Thus ended my second
romance. And now for fresh worlds to conquer, if Providence only gave me
health.

CHAPTER XI

A VOYAGE TO NEW ZEALAND

It was a bright summer's morning. Somewhere about noon the good clipper,
the New Zealand Shipping Company's _Waipa_, slipped her cable and was
taken in tow down the old River Thames. Her skipper was a good sea salt;
he was a Scotsman all right. His name was Gorn. I had been allotted my
cabin. I was, of course, unable to move without help, but I did look
forward to getting better as the good old ship moved to the south and
worked into warmer tropical climes. The days are now past to go to the
other end of the world--the farthest end, anyhow, then known--in a
sailing ship. We had three months' voyage in front of us. We were to call
nowhere; we were just to sail merrily along for three solid months, till
we reached our first port of call, Port Chalmers, in New Zealand.

Our passengers were not many in what we called the saloon--three New
Zealanders, who had made money as shepherds and then become owners of
sheep stations, and a few intending settlers in that beautiful land,
retired officers and ex-clergymen, with their families, took up the
available first-class accommodation. The remainder of the passengers, of
whom there were a good many, were emigrants of both sexes, a happy,
contented crowd, many of whom were looking forward to the better
conditions of life which New Zealand offered them through her commercial
agents in London.

I well remember how soon our small troubles began. Perhaps the only real
trouble was our medical officer. He was the doctor in charge of the ship,
and was kind and attentive, but, even before we reached the Doldrums,
which was about a third of the way, we were not surprised to find there
were no medical comforts left. Our worthy captain was very much
concerned, especially as about that time the potatoes had given out, the
fresh meat had been consumed--even to the last poor fowl--and the
so-called baker