“Oh, is that you, Pilot?  Well, about those buoys, eh?  That’s all right.  All you have to do is go to my office in Williamstown, tell my clerk to fill in a form for you, take it to the Treasury, and you will get your money.”

Davy went back to the office at Williamstown, had the form made out by the clerk, and took it to Melbourne in the steamer, the last trip she made that day.  By this time the Treasury was closed.  It was situated in William Street, where the vast Law Courts are now; and Davy was at the door when it was opened next morning, the first claimant for money.  A clerk took his paper, looked over it, smiled, and said it was of no use whatever without Bunbury’s signature.  Davy started for Williamstown again in the second boat, found that Bunbury had gone away again in the ‘Apollo’, followed him in a whale boat, overtook him off St. Kilda, obtained his signature, and returned to the Treasury.  Captain Lonsdale was there, but he said it was too late to pay money that day, and also that the form should be signed by someone at the Public Works office.

Then Davy’s patience was gone, and he spoke the loud language of the sea.  The frail building shook as with an earthquake.  Mr. Latrobe was in a back room writing one of those gubernatorial despatches which are so painful to read.  He had to suspend the pangs of composition, and he came into the front room to see what was the matter.  Davy told him what was the matter in very unofficial words.  Mr. Latrobe listened patiently and then directed Captain Lonsdale to keep the Treasury open until the account was paid.  He also said the schooner ‘Agenoria’ had been wrecked on the day that Davy left Port Albert, and requested him to return to duty as soon as possible, lest other vessels might be wrecked for want of a pilot.  “The sweet little cherub that sits up aloft” could not be depended on to pilot vessels over the bar.

Davy took his paper to the Public Works office in Queen Street.  Here he found another officer bursting with dignity, who said:  “There is already one signature too many on this account.”

“Can’t you scratch it out, then?” said Davy.

“We don’t keep hens to scratch in this office,” replied the dignified one, who took a ruler, and having drawn a line through the superfluous name, signed his own.  When Davy went again to the Treasury with his account, Captain Lonsdale said he had not cash on hand to pay it, and deducted twenty pounds, which he sent to Port Albert afterwards, when the Government had recovered its solvency.  His Honour the Superintendent might have assumed the classical motto, “Custos sum pauperis horti.”