Well, with the least possible lapse of time I gave up my job, got a cheque for my wages, duly cashed it, and took my passage back in a sort of coach. I have no very clear recollections of any incidents in that trip, but I got to Adelaide all right and learned that a warrant was out for me as a deserter. That was no more than I expected, for it was the ordinary thing. The police, however, were not over zealous in worrying runaway seamen, for they themselves had mostly once been in the same category. The thing was to find a ship, and for that purpose I was advised to consult a certain boarding-house master, Jack Hanly I think his name was, and not a bad sort by any means, but it was rather an eye-opener to be fitted out with a discharge that had belonged to some other seaman of about my own age, and it further involved a change of name which I saw might lead to complication when it came to producing papers for the Board of Trade. The first trial showed me that it would not do. There was in the harbour a big American ship called the _Borodino_, and when Jack and I went to the captain the following conversation took place. Said Jack: “Captain, I’ve brought you a hand, wants to learn to be a captain.” “No, thank you,” said the skipper, “looks too white about the gills for me, no deal.” That was the end of that episode, and I cast round myself to see what could be done. There was also in port another ship called the _Troas_, which I remembered we had spoken at sea on the previous voyage. On the strength of this acquaintance, I went to see her skipper, who, being badly in want of hands, agreed to see me through the police court and ship me as an ordinary seaman. When I was fined £5 or a month for desertion my new skipper paid the fine, and I forthwith took up my berth in my new ship. She was a full-rigged vessel of about 800 tons, and was bound for Foo Chow to load tea for home. So far as the officers were concerned the tone of the ship was on a fairly high plane. The mate was no great personality, but the second, George Davies, was a very fine seaman and a splendid officer. He was also a splendid athlete. I have seen him go out on a bare topmast stunsail boom to reeve a tack that had become unrove, in order to save the time it would have taken to rig the boom in. I believe he was afterwards in command of a sailing vessel that was lost in a typhoon in the China Sea--at all events his ship was reported as missing. There was also a third mate, whom I afterward met when he was serving in the P. & O. service. The crew were a curious lot. There was especially one typical old sailor full of ancient lore and tradition. Commenting on the fact of the captain having his wife on board he predicted evil from the commencement. “You mark my words,” he said, “they are bad cattle to sail with.” That was not, however, the general opinion, for the lady in question was pleasant to look upon, and every one she spoke to was pleased with her charming manner.