Then he walked off in a bad humour, and I had to go back to the boat to tell my shipmates how I had fared. That same day, at dinner-time, we arrived at the next plantation. I was by this time in very low spirits, because I did not know what was to become of me. Everybody seemed to have an errand and something to do except myself, and I did not see how and when my services would be called into requisition; but my two shipmates kept telling me it was my own fault, and that I should take anything I could get to do. So I would, but what was it I could do? Anyhow, they kept telling me that here was the only likely place left, and I there _must_ get a job. I must say I could do anything. After I had dined, the Frenchman kept poking at me and pointing out to me the planter, telling me I must ask for a job. So I mustered up courage and went up and spoke to him. "What can you do?" "Anything." "Can you cook?" "Do you mean making dinners?" "Yes." "No, I cannot do that." "Can you split fencing stuff?" "No." "Can you make brick?" "No." "Can you chip?" "What is that?" "Kill weeds with a hoe." "I never did it before." "I am afraid it is difficult to find you a job. You say you can do anything: what is it you can do?" I was again quite crestfallen as I said, "I do not think I can do _any_thing." "Well, then, I cannot find you anything to do." With that he went his way, and I came back to where the Frenchman sat, and I had to tell him once more of my hard fate. At this he began to swear in French like one demented, and asked me had I never told the planter I was a carpenter. "No." "Mon Dieu! oh, Mon Dieu, was any one like this infant!" Then he ran after the planter and spoke to him, and soon they both came back. The planter then said he had been told I was a carpenter, and that he was prepared to find work for me at that trade, but that he would prefer me to go into the boat to the next plantation, as he knew his neighbour was much in want of me. If I did not get on there he would employ me as I came back. What a relief I felt, especially as I understood they did not expect me to build houses out of growing trees! The next evening we passed the place where I was told I could get work, but it was on the other side of the river. A man stood down by the water's edge hailing the boat. He sang out to us if we thought it possible he might get a carpenter in Cardwell. It was music in my ears. The Frenchman cried back: "We have one on the boat." The man on shore replied he wanted one to make boxes, tables, and the like. I was ready to jump out of the boat with anxiety, but I had to content myself, as my shipmates would not let me off before the return journey, and so I had to ply the oar until, far out into the night, we arrived at the furthest point of our journey, viz., the Native Police camp.