One morning I sat down on the side of my bed to count my little over, and found that I was the possessor of five one dollar bills and a five dollar note. Gee! but this looked pretty bad for me, and I began to wonder what I was going to do when the money ran out. After finishing my breakfast that morning I glanced over the "Help Wanted" columns and my eye stopped on "Sailors wanted. Ships sailing for Australia, India, China and the Orient. Apply Humboldt House." I felt that I would not experience any trouble in securing a place on any one of the steamers as I had with me an able-bodied seaman's certificate, which I had earned plying up and down the South African coast. In the afternoon I strolled down to the Humboldt House, situated in the heart of the sailor quarter, and on making application to the booking clerk of the office, I was not long in signing up for a voyage to Sidney, Australia, and back by way of Hong Kong, China. The thought of a trip through the East pleased me highly, so I walked down to where the "Britisher" was docked and went aboard. I spent half an hour on her and when leaving told the "bowswain" that I would be back the next morning with my outfit. The "Britisher" sailed the following afternoon, but it sailed without one Jack Rand, for I actually would not have made the trip on that old shell had they made me captain of her. Every hand on the boat was a Chinaman with the exception of the Captain, First Officer, Engineer and the "Bowswain." Those ugly looking Chinamen with their long pigtails hanging down their bony backs, and keen edged knives stuck securely in their belts did not look any too good to me. The night I remember as well as if it was only yesterday. I left my hotel shortly after supper and headed toward Golden Gate Avenue. It was a damp night and I wanted to mingle with the people, hear the music of the dance halls, and maybe trip the fantastic myself, for I was homesick and lonely. My little pocket account was still decreasing, and I really did not feel the toughness of the position I was playing till that evening when I found my earthly belongings in the coin line amounted to four dollars and fifty-five cents. Three thousand miles away from home with a bad cold, four dollars and fifty-five cents, hotel bill due, not a single friend or acquaintance to turn for assistance. I strolled down Golden Gate Avenue with hands dug deep in my pockets, coat collar turned up and hat pulled down over my eyes, for it had just begun to drizzle rain and the breeze from the sea was biting and penetrating. As I strolled along I saw on almost every side big life-size placards, and pictures of Jimmie Boyles, the Amateur Champion of the Pacific Coast, who was booked to fight that night at the Dreamland Skating Rink.