The Boomerang was about as long as two street cars, and about as wide as one.  She was so small (though she was larger than the majority of the inter-island coasters) that when I stood on her deck I felt but little smaller than the Colossus of Rhodes must have felt when he had a man-of-war under him.  I could reach the water when she lay over under a strong breeze.  When the Captain and my comrade (a Mr. Billings), myself and four other persons were all assembled on the little after portion of the deck which is sacred to the cabin passengers, it was full—­there was not room for any more quality folks.  Another section of the deck, twice as large as ours, was full of natives of both sexes, with their customary dogs, mats, blankets, pipes, calabashes of poi, fleas, and other luxuries and baggage of minor importance.  As soon as we set sail the natives all lay down on the deck as thick as negroes in a slave-pen, and smoked, conversed, and spit on each other, and were truly sociable.

The little low-ceiled cabin below was rather larger than a hearse, and as dark as a vault.  It had two coffins on each side—­I mean two bunks.  A small table, capable of accommodating three persons at dinner, stood against the forward bulkhead, and over it hung the dingiest whale oil lantern that ever peopled the obscurity of a dungeon with ghostly shapes.  The floor room unoccupied was not extensive.  One might swing a cat in it, perhaps, but not a long cat.  The hold forward of the bulkhead had but little freight in it, and from morning till night a portly old rooster, with a voice like Baalam’s ass, and the same disposition to use it, strutted up and down in that part of the vessel and crowed.  He usually took dinner at six o’clock, and then, after an hour devoted to meditation, he mounted a barrel and crowed a good part of the night.  He got hoarser all the time, but he scorned to allow any personal consideration to interfere with his duty, and kept up his labors in defiance of threatened diphtheria.

Sleeping was out of the question when he was on watch.  He was a source of genuine aggravation and annoyance.  It was worse than useless to shout at him or apply offensive epithets to him—­he only took these things for applause, and strained himself to make more noise.  Occasionally, during the day, I threw potatoes at him through an aperture in the bulkhead, but he only dodged and went on crowing.

The first night, as I lay in my coffin, idly watching the dim lamp swinging to the rolling of the ship, and snuffing the nauseous odors of bilge water, I felt something gallop over me.  I turned out promptly.  However, I turned in again when I found it was only a rat.  Presently something galloped over me once more.  I knew it was not a rat this time, and I thought it might be a centipede, because the Captain had killed one on deck in the afternoon.  I turned out.  The first glance at the pillow showed me repulsive sentinel perched upon each end