No one was assigned to take Joe's place, but after a week of it Scouse was relieved and Tony became my partner in filth. "I suppose we will have other deserters," said the mate, coming down and looking us over. His words were evidently intended for me. "I don't think so, sir. Scouse doesn't mind this a bit," which was a foolish remark, but at least resulted in giving the red-head a relief. I kept fit by getting up an hour earlier each morning than the rest of the crowd and taking a plunge overboard as a bracer, swimming about the ship. In the evening, being too dirty to give a hand in pumping out, I had the pleasure of a plunge into the cool waters before supper. I always washed out my dungarees as soon as I came up, and alternated, leaving the ones last worn to have a good sunning. Captain Nichols saw me one noon looking rather dirty. He may have remarked the fact that he had seen me in the same state some ten days before, when the grind first started. "What are you doing?" he asked. "Cleaning out the limbers, sir." "How do you like it?" grinning. "Fine; wish the ship had four instead of two, sir." This seemed to tickle the old man, and whatever he did I don't know, but the next day the mate came below and lifted a horrible fuss about the way things were dragging, with Chips at his heels saying "Yes, sir, yes, sir," so fast that the mate turned on him and asked him if he had St. Vitus's dance. "Yes, sir," answered Chips, before he realized his mistake. "Well, then, get the hell out of here and let me finish this." Four extra men were sent down and the job cleaned up the next day. I was mighty glad when the drill was over, for to tell the truth my health was beginning to suffer from the nasty grind and the constant breathing of foul air. In the fo'c'sle, too, the boys were more than decent about it. "Well, you stuck it out," was the opinion. CHAPTER XVI HONOLULU OF THE OLD DAYS Honolulu harbor in 1898 retained more than a trace of its old time flavor of romance. In later years, when I again visited the port, the improvements had entirely eliminated many old landmarks that spoke so clearly of the historic past. At the time we were there in the _Fuller_, the remains of the hulk that once was the famous, or perhaps I should say infamous, Hawaiian man o' war, _Kaimiloa_, lay bedded in the mud flats at the delta of the Nuuanu River, a shallow part of the harbor between the railroad wharf and the waterfront of the city. The _Kaimiloa_, a vessel of 170 tons, had once been called the _Explorer_, and was then engaged in the copra trade. King Kalakaua purchased her (she was a wooden steamer, by the way) for $20,000, and had her refitted as a ship of war. On the 17th of May, 1887, she was dispatched to Samoa to strengthen the hands of the embassy. Robert Louis Stevenson wrote, "The history of the _Kaimiloa_ is a story of debauchery, intrigues, and waste of government property."