ter left Liverpool as an
apprentice on the clipper ship _Maid of Normandy_. Appropriately enough
the captain's name was Fairweather, and he certainly was a character in
his way. In fact the whole ship's company were originals. Had my father
searched all England through he could not have discovered a set of men,
from the captain to the cook's mate, who would have been better
calculated to instil in a young man's heart a distaste for Father
Neptune and his oceans. In the number of the various books of the sea I
have encountered, was one entitled, _A Floating Hell_. When reading it I
had not expected to have the misfortune to be bound aboard a vessel of
this type. It was my lot, however, to undergo the experience. We carried
three apprentices, including myself, each of whom had paid a large sum
for the privilege. I was the youngest. The eldest was the son of a
country parson, a mild, decent lad, who eventually deserted and became a
house-painter in the South Island of New Zealand. The next was washed
overboard when we were rounding the Horn on our homeward voyage. Poor
lad, when all was said and done he could not have been much worse off,
for his life on board was a disgrace to what is sometimes erroneously
called, "Human Nature." In due course, as we cleared for San Francisco,
and long before we crossed the Line, I was heartily tired of the sea. In
those days, few years ago as it is, sailors were not so well protected
even as they are now, and on a long voyage aboard a sailing ship it was
possible for a good deal to happen that was not logged, and much of
which was forgotten before the vessel reached its home-port again. When
I returned from my first voyage, my family inquired how I liked my
profession, and, with all truth, I informed them that I did not like it
at all, and that I would be willing to have my indentures cancelled and
to return to shore life once more, if I might be so permitted. My father
smiled grimly, and seemed to derive considerable satisfaction from the
fact that he had prophesied disaster from the outset.

"No," he said, "you have made your bed, my lad, and now you must lie
upon it. There is still a considerable portion of your apprenticeship to
be served, and it will be quite soon enough for us at the end of that
time to decide what you are to do."

A month later I was at sea again, bound this time for Sydney. We reached
that port on my nineteenth birthday, and by that time I had made up my
mind. A