they had had a hard and wet paddle. So I-and I hate and detest myself now for my meanness-doled out one pipe and a little bit of tobacco from the plenteous store given me by the sailor men, and which I could increase in the land of all good things, whither I was bound-doled out this to the generous, affectionate lad, who was giving up all for the sake of his father. We have often laughed over it since.

!

"Ashore go I away with you!" he cried, and disappeared from the deck.

"Ashore with you!" I answered, after our fashion.

"Next year!" said the Bishop, looking over the bulwark at the canoe fast falling astern, and heading for the shore.

Then, after the last straggler had had to swim ashore, or to some friendly canoe, we finally set sail.

With a fast-beating heart, and joy tingling in every vein, I saw the vessel's head turned eastward-or, rather, south-eastward. A couple of hours later, I was the most miserable of mortals-sea-sick for the first time in my life, and wishing myself ashore again among the flickering fires of retreating, night-beshrouded, but steady, Pombuana.

If a canoe had come alongside then, I should very likely have never visited the East (as we called it) at all, and you would not now be reading this Story.

CHAPTER XI.

DESCRIBES MY NEW LIFE, AND INTRODUCES A MOST IMPORTANT

CHARACTER.

I SOON got over my sea-sickness, and settled down to my new state of existence.

One night, a beautiful tropical night, when the Aurora (that was the vessel's name) seemed to be gliding through a liquid

ON BOARD THE AURORA.

43

firmament of stars, Mr. Wakefield touched me on my shoulder and made me sit down beside him on the spare-spars, just within pleasant draught of the foresail, which rose like a dark wing above us, as if to screen us from the gazing stars. The breeze was so gentle and so steady that the shadowy vessel might have been sailing in her sleep.

My companion still called me "Na Halo," so I laughed, and said "Pomo!"

He then appeared to be in doubt whether to believe me or his book, but at last decided in my favour, and crossed out something in the book. Next, he stabbed himself with his forefinger, and said "Wakefield," which I pronounced as "Waykayfeeloo," and which it always has been in Pombuana. He shook his head and laughed, and then said very clearly, "Percy," tapping his breast again.

'Parsee!” said I, amusing him once more; but after a few trials I pronounced it to his satisfaction, and thenceforward I called him by the shorter, easier, more familiar

name.

Mr. Carter, the Bishop's particular friend (whom we called Missy Kahtah) was older than Percy, and seemed to dislike being on board ship, and never to be quite well. He was quite as kind as either the Bishop or Mr. Wakefield, but not so familiar with me. He had friends among the other islanders; and, I confess, I was a little afraid of him, for he was always. making amiable fun of me, which made me feel as if I did not know what to do with myself. The first English custom which I particularly noticed was the reverence paid to Sunday, or Sanday, as we called it, on which day everybody came out in fine clothes, and coats and collars, and the Captain oiled his hair and scented his pocket handkerchief, and there was a general sacrifice of comfort to appearances.

I kept my first Sunday by wearing my first shirt, which I very nearly split in trying to get into it.

We schooled, cooked, washed cabins, sawed firewood, fished, bathed, ate, and slept, and all with so much regularity that we untamed creatures sometimes felt it tiresome.

The three facts which have left the clearest impressions on my memory are, first, the melancholy one, that we reached the confines of the areca nut region before we came to the "end of the sky," and I felt quite sick for want of it. Second, that Cookee chose me to be his mate, and it became my business to lay the cloth, clean the knives, and set the table in the aftercabin, which occupation allowed me to see a great deal of the Bishop, Mr. Carter, and Percy Wakefield, and, of course put me in the way of learning English. Thirdly, that as we travelled to the south we seemed to get farther from the Sun, until one evening Mr. Wakefield brought out a bag of clothes, and served out to us a change of shirts, with flannels and

trousers.

The party in the Bishop's cabin suffered not a little at first from my introduction there as waiter. Mr. Wakefield and Mr Carter had done the work before, as there was no steward kept; and often did Mr. Wakefield and I scrub the floor together.

But now the cook wished to teach me to do it all, and I was quite as anxious to learn. It was a very enviable position, for I used to eat with the cook, instead of with the boys; in fact, I had decidedly the best of the bargain, while my friends' disadvantages were not a few. For instance, they often had the difficult task set them of having to eat pea soup with forks; they likewise received pickles for jam, and jam for pickles; there was always something wanting, or something that was not wanted, until I nearly gave it up in despair.

One rough Sunday morning in particular, I remember well, when my unfortunate benefactors were first made aware of the fact, always solemnly announced by Cookee, as "Breakfast is down, Gentlemen," by the unexpected arrival at the bottom of

the stairs of a fast plate of rice, attended by an express dish of currie, followed by me-flying! Mr. Wakefield comforted me by telling me that the same thing had happened to himself, but nevertheless, I felt very frightened at what I had done, and considered myself worthy of death.

Cookee had a wholesome English contempt for the Pombuana language, chiefly because it was not English, which was a sufficient reason in his eyes for despising anything. English, therefore, he determined I should learn, and if ever he did make use of any Pombuana words from sheer necessity, it was not without a patronising air, as if, poor jargon! it knew no better, and could not help it; and indeed, it became indebted to him for being relieved to a great degree of its foreign character, for he would never condescend to try our pronounciation of it, but adapted it to his own ideas on the subjects, and made it as English as its natural stubbornness would admit of. He got hold of our word "Uto!" among others, which means, well! all right and this he used to utter boldly and stirringly, as "Hoot-o! Hoot-o! Hoot-o!" as a means of hurrying us, or encouraging us, or stopping us, as the case might be, when we were helping him; evidently enjoying intellectually (as Mr Wakefield used to say) the delicate flavour of owl.

My first public effort at English speaking, under Cookee's tutorship, I shall now relate.

One terrible morning, which I never shall forget the bare recollection of it makes me turn warm all over-I appeared at the door of the cabin, trembling, and with my eyes fixed upon the oil-cloth which covered the cabin-floor. After a few moments of profound silence, I became conscious that I was saying these remarkable words, as taught me by Cookee, though slightly varied from the original. I spoke slowly and penitentially, as if I was stumbling through a badly learnt lesson.

"If you fleas, jennyfum, I bin bloke him all-a-same-toomuch-blight. I weeny solly, jennyfum, that-'ll do-me-boy!"

The last part of my sentence, I found out afterwards, was only Cookee's applause, and should not have been introduced into my speech when delivered in public. Instead of being shot down on the spot and messing the oil-cloth with my blood, as Cookee had led me to expect would be my fate, Mr. Carter and the Bishop, after a moment's astonishment, burst into a hearty laugh. As I could give no explanation whatever, but would repeat my sentence as often as the "jennyfum" pleased (for I was beginning to know it perfectly), they sent for the odd author of it, who entered nodding, cap in hand. Then followed this conversation, which Mr. Wakefield has preserved :

"Wot this 'ere Pomer wanted to hintimate, gentlemen, wos as 'ow e'd bin an bruk the lamp, you hun'erstand.

"But we don't understand, cook," said the Bishop.

"Ah, that's w'ere it is gentlemen. You see I takes a pride like, in teachin' of 'im Hinglish-for, if you'll believe me, gentlemen, e's a sharp lad, is Pomer, has 'll do us credit yit."

"But what we want to know is the translation of what he said what did he mean by too-much-blight?""

6

"That's wot I'm comin' to, gentlemen. 'Old on a bit. Ye see, hi've 'ad a sight of experience in dealin' wi' Chiney folks, han' bein' hay obsarvin' kind of a card-you'll hexcuse me, gentlemen,”

"Well, sir, wot I tuk partickler notice on wos this 'ere, fizz : that them Chiney folks aint got so much as a har among 'em, not a har. Consequentially they gets druv up into a corner like; an' w'ere me and you-if you'll hexcuse me, gentlemen, -w'ere me an' you ud put a har, you hun'erstand, wy they've nothing for it but to put a hell, you see. That's w'ere it is. W'y, their hars is all hells, in a manner o' speakin'."

"And where did you gain your Chinese experience, cook?" inquired Mr. Carter.