n the sun.

For nine months of the year a crisp, cool south-east wind blows, the
snow-white beach is splashed with spray and dotted with the picturesque
figures of Japanese divers and South Sea Island boatmen. Coco-nut palms
line the roads by the beach, and back of the town are the barracks and a
fort nestling among the trees on the hillside. Thirsty Island is a nice
place--to look at.

When a vessel makes fast the Thirsty Islanders come down to greet
the new-comers and give them welcome to Australia. The new-chums are
inclined to patronise these simple, outlying people. Fresh from the
iniquities of the China-coast cocktail and the unhallowed orgies of the
Sourabaya Club, new-chums think they have little to learn in the way of
drink; at any rate, they haven't come all the way to Thursday Island
to be taught anything. Poor new-chums! Little do they know the kind of
people they are up against.

The following description of a night at Thursday Island is taken from a
new-chum's note book:

"Passed Proudfoot shoal and arrived at Thursday Island. First sight
of Australia. Lot of men came aboard, all called Captain. They are all
pearl-fishers or pilots, not a bit like the bushmen I expected. When
they came aboard they divided into parties. Some invaded the Captain's
cabin; others sat in the smoking room; the rest crowded into the saloon.
They talked to the passengers about the Boer War, and told us about
pearls worth 1000 pounds that had been found lately.

"One captain pulled a handful of loose pearls out of a jar and handed
them round in a casual way for us to look at. The stewards opened
bottles and we all sat down for a drink and a smoke. I spoke to one
captain--an oldish man--and he grinned amiably, but did not answer.
Another captain leaned over to me and said, 'Don't take any notice of
him, he's boozed all this week.'

"Conversation and drink became general. The night was very hot and
close, and some of the passengers seemed to be taking more than was good
for them. A contagious thirst spread round the ship, and before long the
stewards and firemen were at it. The saloon became an inferno of drink
and sweat and tobacco smoke. Perfect strangers were talking to each
other at the top of their voices.

"Young MacTavish, who is in a crack English regiment, asked the captain
of a pearling lugger whether he didn't know Talbot de Cholmondeley in
the Blues.

"The pearler said very likely he had met 'em, and no doubt he