In the morning the fog lifted and the wind came out dead ahead. Two pilot boats came running down from the Cape Ann shore, and the leading one, being intent on securing both our vessel and a ship to leeward, dropped a pilot in a "canoe" while sailing ten knots an hour, and sped on to the other ship, thus successfully cutting out her rival. The pilot pulled alongside of us, and we took both himself and his boat on board. Many eager questions were asked, one of the first being, if the "F----" had arrived? We were told she had not, and we had the satisfaction of beating her eight days on the passage. All day we were beating up the Bay, and at 10 P.M. took a tow boat off Boston Light which soon brought us alongside Central Wharf, where we made fast early on a Sunday morning after ninety-three days passage from Padang. In the morning I stepped on to the wharf to take a survey from a new point of view of what had been my home for so many months. As I was standing near the stern I noticed some sailors belonging to the Revenue Cutter, sitting down with their backs toward me and their legs hanging over the edge of the wharf. They were discussing the looks of the vessel, and I heard one of them say, "I wouldn't want to go to sea in that bark. She must be a regular workhouse. Everything aboard of her is scraped bright from her trucks to her fenders. Just see how that royal-yard shines!" I walked up to them and said: "Boys, does she look well?" "Yes," answered the one that had just spoken; "a neater looking vessel than that never came into this harbor." "Well," said I, "her crew haven't lost a watch below the whole voyage." "Oh! that's a different thing then," said he; "if a man has watch and watch he's got no right to complain. Of course he expects to work in his watch on deck." The next day the crew were paid off, all being sober except Murphy. I handed him his money and said, "Take good care of that and don't throw it away." Murphy was already well past a condition to take care of anything. He had indulged in one good spree the night before, and was now what would be called "ugly drunk." His thick black hair was tossed about in confusion over his head, and his dark eyes fairly snapped with passion. Holding his money in his clenched fist he brandished it aloft and said, "Cap'n, all that's going for rum," and off he went with a waiting land-shark, who no doubt sent him to sea within a week, penniless and ragged. But everybody else was sober, and on the whole the crew made a very creditable appearance, so much so that it excited remarks from many who saw them.