We arrived at Wallaroo after a long passage, and were moored alongside the pier. It was not a comfortable berth, for the port was subject to sudden strong winds known as “Southerly busters.” These came up against the side of the pier and consequently the stern moorings were slip ropes, which permitted the vessel to cast off and ride by the head moorings, end on to the wind. The pier is probably strengthened by this time, but in those days it was a very flimsy affair. Our skipper was a man who used his head, and by his instruction the mate had rigged a swinging derrick that discharged our cargo with ease and safety. We then ballasted and set sail for Port Victor, where we loaded a cargo of wool for Melbourne. Before leaving Wallaroo, however, my old shipmate Hill of the _Essex_ tried very hard to get permission for me to transfer to a brigantine which he owned and was in command of in Adelaide. We had inspected her together in London, and he had then bought her, declaring I should be second mate with him. He reckoned, however, without my skipper, who was obdurate. Hill afterwards took the _Belle_ trading in the China Sea, where he died suddenly, leaving a young wife on board. Port Victor was a curious little place in those days. It had originated as a boiling-down station. It was not much more than an open roadstead, but it was sheltered by an island that afforded some protection at the mouth of the bay. We had fair luck there and, loading our wool easily, got to Melbourne, where we discharged at Williamstown, and ballasted. There were many splendid ships in port--curiously enough again the _White Star_ and _Champion of the Seas_, and also a celebrated Aberdeen White Star liner _The Star of Peace_. Those ships were in a class by themselves; they made very good passages, at times records, and were kept up in first-rate style, I retain a vivid recollection of being passed by one of them when bound up-Channel--but I will refer to that in its proper order. We beat down Melbourne harbour in charge of one of the smartest pilots I ever saw. I am sorry I have forgotten his name, but the way he worked that ship to windward was a very masterpiece of handling. He had, moreover, a fairly biting tongue, and a vocabulary that was practically inexhaustible if the least thing went wrong in tacking ship. We heard a good deal of it, but we made a fair start for Point de Galle, and nothing of moment happened on the passage.