sel would afford her an
excellent opportunity; his own services in bringing the cutter back to
Samoa to be 'squared' by free passages for himself and wife.

My partner Alan was quite satisfied. The big man planked down two
hundred and fifty dollars on account, and we shook hands all round.
Hannah was a quiet, silent sort of fellow, but I knew we should get on
all right, for he came down to us next morning with his people, helped
us heave the cutter off the beach, and covered our decks with pigs and
poultry. That afternoon we got our wood and water aboard, and were ready
for sea at daylight.

Alan was a splendid type of a man. Brought up to the sea from his
childhood, he had served some years as a boat-steerer on American
whale-ships, then with 'Bully' Hayes as boatswain in the notorious
_Rona_ brig; and a finer seaman never walked a deck. He was very proud
of the English blood in his veins, and always talking of the exploits
of his father, who had served with the gallant Cochrane in the Chilian
navy. At sea he was a man for emergencies--quick, resolute, resourceful
and sober. On shore, with money in his pocket, he descended to the
level of the lowest beach-comber, and was always in trouble for thumping
somebody--generally another half-caste or a policeman. Peace to his
bones! He went to a sailor's death long ago; but the writer of this
narrative will never forget the dark, handsome face, laughter-filled
eyes, and cheery voice of the best shipmate with whom he ever sailed.

We put to sea with a fine breeze, and running between the islands of
Upolu and Savai'i, were out of sight of land by dusk. There were but
thirteen persons all told on board--our seven passengers, Alan, four
native sailors, and myself--but we were in no wise crowded for room, for
the hold was used as a sleeping-place by Captain Hannah's wife, her two
children and three servants. Mats had been spread over the cargo, and
the weather being fine, the hatch was left open from the time we left
Samoa nearly till we reached Santo.

The south-east trade wind held steadily, and the little vessel, being
clean and in fine trim, ran along at a great rate, till, on the sixth
day out, when we had just sighted Pentecost Island, one of the New
Hebrides group, it died away, and at sunset we were becalmed. All that
night the air was close and muggy, but towards dawn a faint air came
from the westward. During the night the strong current had carried us in
ten or twelv