After discharging cargo at Melbourne, we took on a shipload of Australian coal and set sail for Caleta Buena in Chile. I'll never forget that part of the voyage, because I managed to pass New Year's in a Chilean dungeon. After a spree ashore, I determined to go back to the ship in a certain particular direction. I went in that direction until I came to a wall. I climbed over it and fell into a pig sty. Hearing the grunts of the porkers, the owner of the place, a very dignified gentleman, came out. I told him I wanted to go to my ship. "I will escort you to your ship," he offered with grave politeness. With no less politeness, I accepted his kindness. He led me to a house, in front of which stood a police guard. I was astonished, but he invited me to enter. I did. "This thief has tried to steal my pigs," he told the police officers inside. "I want to get back to my ship," I protested. They threw me into a cell, where there were a number of others, sailors among them, who had been celebrating New Year's Eve too well. I fell asleep on a bench. I awakened. A woman was being hurled into the cell. I fell asleep, and when I became conscious again, I found that the new arrival had taken a place beside me, and fallen asleep with her head in my lap. I raised her from my lap, to place her on the bench. She yelled, "_Robadores!--caramba._" The guard came in, and the señora, still shrieking, told him that I had beaten her. They seized me and threw me down a dark stairway into a dungeon. I fell over a mule harness into a pile of saltpetre dust. I put my head on the harness and fell asleep again. I stayed there, in the company of many very tame rats, for three days. Then the mate came and got me out. The captain had been informed on the first day that I was in the calaboose, but he said: "Oh, Phelax! We have three days in port, and it won't hurt him to be by himself a little until we sail." With a cargo of saltpetre, we headed for Plymouth, and off the Falkland Islands were caught in a dreadful hurricane. At first we were able to run before the wind. The _Cæsarea_ was good at scudding, a fast boat with the wind behind her. The pull of the water at the stern varies greatly with different ships. With some it drags back heavily. With others it falls readily away. On the other hand, you must not run before the wind too long, or you may be unable to heave to at will, and your ship may be overwhelmed by seas overtaking her from astern and raking her deck from stern to bow. Well, aboard the _Cæsarea_ we were caught in just this peril. The seas were breaking over her. We hung out all the hawsers we had to catch the waves astern.