don't ship on _that_ craft, young fellow, take my advice. Are
you dead, stony broke?"

"Pretty near, all but a few shillings. And I find it hard to get a
ship--that is, the sort of ship I want. I've been in the South Sea
trade a couple of years, and I like it."

"Ah, I see. Well, you know best, mister. I daresay you'll see the
_Mahina's_ captain coming down the wharf before it gets dark. He's a
little, dark-faced, good-looking chap, with a pointed beard. I wish
you luck, anyway."

"Thank you," said Barry, as he returned the policeman's good-natured
nod and watched him saunter off again towards the end of the wharf.

Half an hour later five men appeared, all walking quickly towards the
spot where Barry was still patiently waiting. The man who was leading
he at once recognized as the captain of the brig--the four who followed
at his heels were common seamen by their dress, and ruffians of the
first water by their appearance. Each carried a bundle under his arm,
and one a small chest on his shoulder; he was evidently the wealthy man
of the lot.

Stepping out from under the shelter of the wall, Barry stood in the
centre of the path, and waited the captain's approach.

"Are you in want of hands, sir?" he asked, touching his cap. The
master of the brig gave him a swift, searching glance from head to
feet, and then without answering the inquiry he turned to his followers.

"Go on to the end of the wharf. Hail the brig to send a boat ashore,
and then wait for me." His voice was clear and sharp, but not
unpleasant. The four men shuffled off, and the moment they were out of
hearing he addressed himself to Barry.

"I've just found all the men I want, but I could do with another--if he
is anything better than such things as those," and he nodded
contemptuously at the figures of the four seamen. Then with
lightning-like rapidity of utterance he asked, "You're not a foremast
hand?"

"I want to ship before the mast," was the quiet answer.

"Got a mate's or second mate's certificate?"

"Yes; both."

"Last ship?"

"The _Tawera_, brig, of Tahiti."

"Ha! You're used to the Island trade, then?"

"Pretty well."

"Willing to ship as mate or second mate?"

"Yes, and no. Willing enough in one way, and not liking it in another.
I'm hard-up, have no clothes, and should cut a sorry figure on such a
smart-looking brig as yours when I haven't even a donkey's breakfast[1]
to bring aboard if I shipped before the