On the 3rd of August we sighted the coast of Canterbury, and at daylight on the 4th we found ourselves lying becalmed about 12 miles off Port Lyttelton Heads, from whence the captain signalled for a pilot steamer to take the ship to harbour.  In the clear rare atmosphere, and the pure invigorating feeling of that glorious morning, we were all impatient of delay.  A couple of fishing boats were lying not far off, and we begged the captain to let us row out to them and he permitted us, conditionally that we returned and kept near the ship, because immediately the tug arrived we would start.  We rowed to the boats and obtained some information from the fishermen, with whom were two of the natives, Maori lads; indeed, I think the boat partly belonged to the Maoris, for these people do not take service with the white settlers.  They pointed out to us where the entrance lay, and told us that Port Lyttelton was some five miles further down a bay.

Before we returned to breakfast we had decided to anticipate matters by going ahead of the ship.  We quietly laid in a small supply of food and appeared at the cabin table like good and obedient boys.  Incidentally, one of us asked the captain if it would be easy to row into port, and he replied that it would be very risky to attempt it; it was a long way, and the wind or a squall might get up at any moment, or the tide might be contrary, and he positively forbade us to entertain any such idea.  All this, however, only increased our desire for the “lark,” as we called it, and about 9 o’clock, having rowed about quietly for a while, we suddenly bade good-bye to the “Mary Anne” and steered straight for the Heads, where we had been told Port Lyttelton lay.  Our crew consisted of Smith, the two Leaches, C——­, and myself, with a man named Kelson, who was a good oarsman, and we thought he would be useful as an extra hand, but he had no notion of our freak when we started, and was considerably chagrined when he discovered our real intention; he had a young wife on board, whom he feared would be in distress about him.

For some time we pulled away manfully, but at length began with some dismay to notice two facts, one, that we were losing sight of the ship, and the other that the hills did not appear to be any nearer!

Some one suggested returning, but as that would have looked like funk, it was overruled, and we went to the oars with renewed vigour.  After some hours pulling we had the satisfaction to find that although the masts of the ship were scarcely visible we were certainly drawing nearer to the land, and could occasionally distinguish waves breaking on the rocks.  The coast apparently was quite uninhabited, with no sign of life on land or sea.  We had evidently been working against the tide or some current, for we had been rowing steadily from 9 to 4, which would have amounted to less than two miles an hour, whereas we could pull five.  Our course must have been true, as also the directions we received, for on entering