eck and awaited our visitors at the
gangway, our own steerage passengers, who had crowded the lee rail to
see the strange boat come alongside, respectfully making way for them.

One only of the boat's crew--the man in the stern-sheets--ventured to
come on deck, the other three staring up at the heads peering down at
them from our rail, without saying a word in reply to the multitude of
questions that were fired into them, beyond remarking that "the bo'sun
will tell your skipper all about it."

The boatswain of the _Mercury_--for such the newcomer proved to be--
passed through our gangway, pulled off the knitted woollen cap which
decorated his head, and at once addressed himself to the skipper.

"Mornin', sir," he remarked. "My name's Polson--James Polson, and I'm
bo'sun of the _Mercury_, which ship you see hove-to yonder,"--with a
flourish of his hand in the direction of the vessel named.

"Yes?" said the skipper enquiringly, as the man paused, apparently
waiting to be questioned after this introduction of himself. "I see you
have a signal of distress flying. What's wrong with you?"

"Well, the fact is, sir, as we've lost our cap'n and both mates--"
answered the man, when the skipper struck in amazedly:

"Lost your captain and both mates! How in the name of Fortune did that
happen?"

"Well, sir, you see it was this way," was the reply. "When we'd been
out about a week--we're from Liverpool, bound to Sydney, New South
Wales, with a general cargo and two hundred emigrants--ninety-seven days
out--when we'd been out about a week, or thereabouts--I ain't certain to
a day or two, but it's all wrote down in the log--Cap'n Somers were
found dead in his bunk by the steward what took him in a cup o' coffee
every mornin' at six bells; and Mr Townsend--that were our chief mate--
he took command o' the ship. Then nothin' partic'lar happened until we
was well this side o' the Line, when one day, when all hands of us was
shortenin' sail to a heavy squall as had bust upon us, Jim Tarbutt, a
hordinary seaman, comin' down off the main tops'l yard by way o' the
backstays, lets go his hold and drops slap on top o' Mr Townsend, what
happened to be standin' underneath, and, instead of hurtin' of hisself,
broke t'other man's neck and killed him dead on the spot! Then,"
continued Polson, regardless of the ejaculations of astonishment and
commiseration evoked by the recital of this extraordinary accident,
"then Mr Masterman, what