The spell of heavy weather lasted but a few hours, after which time the wind died away, the waves calmed down and the sun shone as brilliantly as ever. On the night of December 30th and while the weather still left much to be desired, we sighted the Northernmost Island of the Samoan group, which are famous by reason of the destruction of a fleet of United States cruisers anchored in one of the harbors by a tornado, a native insurrection that threatened to bring about war between the United States and Germany, and as the home and burial place of Robert Louis Stevenson, the famous writer. Ed Crane and several others of the party and myself were sitting on deck and under the shelter of an awning watching for a glimpse of the land that we all knew was not far away, when a little after 11 o'clock we ran suddenly under the lee of a mountainous ridge of land that loomed up like a huge shadow in the uncertain light, and almost immediately found ourselves in smooth water. Walking toward the bow of the boat we reached there just as a green signal light was flashed from the bridge. Before us lay the land, and as we watched, a light twinkled on the shore nearly five miles away in answer to our signal. Slowly we steamed toward it, the signal lights flashing their messages at short intervals through the darkness until we reached the harbor, where we lay about half a mile from the land until a sloop and a dory reached us with the mail and passengers for Auckland. Of both the land and the natives we had but a glimpse, one of the latter, a red-headed and stalwart specimen of his race, clambering to the steamer's deck in order to get a receipt for the mail and a glassful of gin, both of which were given him by the purser. The former he stowed away somewhere in his scanty clothing and the latter he gulped down as though it were water, after which he swung himself over the rail and disappeared from sight in the darkness. A few moments later we had left Samoan Islands behind us and were again tossing on the foam-topped waves. Samoa was left not far behind, however, when the weather turned colder and before many hours had passed we were all glad to change our clothing of a tropical weight for garments that were much heavier, and to seek comfortable places in the cabin at night rather than the open deck. Even the cricket practice had begun to get monotonous, and we were all looking forward with pleasure to the time when we might once more feel the solid land beneath our feet. It was with feelings of delight therefore that we heard early on the morning of December 9th that we were within sight of our destination and that we should be on shore, barring accident, by the noon hour. Standing on deck long before it was time for breakfast, we feasted our eyes on the green hills that were in plain sight, and then fell to wondering what sort of a welcome awaited us in the New Zealand seaport that we were rapidly nearing.