The next day we got the breeze, and trimmed to it as soon as we had finished cutting. A few days found us running down the coast of New Holland, with the land well aboard and a fair wind, only thirty miles between us and the entrance to our port, and every prospect of being at anchor before night. But we were doomed to disappointment, for the wind suddenly shifted to the southward, heading us off, and blew up a gale about as fast as we were able to strip the canvas off the ship. Noon saw us lying to, on the off-shore tack, under a goose-winged maintopsail and storm staysails. The wind still increased, and we rode out a wild night under this short sail, while the wind, meeting a counter current which sets to the southward along this coast, occasioned a short, chopping sea, which knocked us about rather roughly, and, in one of her heavy lurches, the waist boat was rolled under and lost. This was the only accident we met with, however; the gale blew out in twenty-four hours and the wind having settled light from the southward, we were compelled to make out our log for four or five days at least. So we made all sail, and boarded our tacks, standing off and on. While we were beating here, having stood well in on the inshore stretch, a small steamer, which plied as a packet between Sydney and Newcastle, passed us, shearing nearer as she approached, enough to read the name on our stern. The sight of a steamboat was, of itself, a sufficient novelty to fix the attention of every man on deck, but what a burst of emotion greeted the appearance of a woman on the deck of the steamer! The word was passed below, and the other watch were all on deck in a twinkling to look at her. She appeared to be the only lady passenger on board, or at least the only one who was able to show herself on the upper deck. At that distance, it was difficult to say whether she was young and beautiful, or otherwise, but she was at least a white woman in a civilized dress, an object which had not greeted our eyes for more than two years. We had taken our last look at a phenomenon of this kind when we left Talcahuano, four months out. "Well, Mr. Grafton," said the old man, as they both drew a long breath after the vision had passed out of view, "how do you feel? homesick?" "Well, yes, sir," replied the mate; "I suppose that's what you may call it. The sight of a woman of our own color and race, after we have been outcasts so long, _does_ have a humanizing influence, and starts up associations of home, and of near and dear ones left there." "Yes, that's true," said the captain. "That lady, who ever she is, may safely boast that she has created a sensation at least once in her life. Here's Mr. Dunham has lost half his watch below on her account, and Cooper has dropped a shook that he had half-raised in the hoop, and seems in no hurry to pick up the staves again. There are two boys up in the fore-rigging, trying to get another look at her yet."