We made the run from the meridian of the Cape to Adelaide in twenty days, which was very fair work, and duly docked the ship and started to discharge cargo. There was, however, to be another unpleasant little episode before the crew were finished with, and to this day I laugh at the remembrance of the mate’s coat-tails streaming behind him as he rushed forward one afternoon with a hammer in his hand, to take vengeance on some man who had aroused his ire. I forget what it was all about, but the men came aft in a body bent on mischief. The ship was alongside the wharf, the old man was on shore, and there was a crowd of onlookers from other ships, when the mate left to fetch the police. I was being roughly handled, but putting up the best fight I could, when, seeing the captain of another ship looking on, I shouted to him to ask what I was to do. “Get a cutlass and smash their skulls for them,” was the answer I got, and with one in my fist I escaped further trouble. The police came down and marched the lot off to jail, and on the next day I fancy they got three months a-piece. There was a Captain Douglas, R.N., acting as one of the magistrates on the bench, and he appeared highly interested in learning the manners and customs which had obtained on board the _Lord of the Isles_. Our stay in port after this was most agreeable; I renewed acquaintance with many old friends, and when it was time to depart did so with regret. There is a certain great artist alive to-day, who may remember an episode concerning a letter and an old boot. Do you, Mortimer Menpes? I have not forgotten. Some pains were taken to get a decent crew together. We were towed to the outer anchorage, there to await their arrival, for we were to sail for Newcastle, N.S.W., in ballast and then take a cargo of coal for Manilla, where we were to load for home. The mate and I had by this time made up our minds that if there was to be any more hammering done we were not intending to play the passive part. It is very curious how these things happen. The cook was the only bit of the old leaven that was left, and there was no love lost between him and the steward. The first morning we were at anchor outside, the steward, who was a very good-looking fellow, went forward to the galley to get early morning coffee for the mate and me. While it was preparing in the customary saucepan, the cook blew upon the rising steam to see if the preparation was boiling. “Don’t blow on the coffee, cook,” said the steward. “Shall if I like!” replied the cook.