Some three years after this the widow was again married, to Captain Cawes, of the ship “Coriolanus.”  This ship came to Hankow to load tea and I had the pleasure to meet Mrs. Cawes, who had been saved from my old ship in which I had served for years.

The steamer that run down the “Northfleet” was twice arrested, but nothing definite could be proved until some two years later, when one of her officers was near dying, and he confessed that it was the steamer “Murillo,” which was later proved to be true, and the vessel was confiscated.

Chinese Politeness.

Whilst running to Hankow with the steamer “Neimen” I had as sailors Malays.  The firemen were seedy boys, or Nubians.  The steward was a Goa Portuguese.  The servants were Chinese, and the cook a Chinese who claimed to be an American, he having been trained by Captain John Parrott, of San Francisco, “a number one American man,” who had taught him to swear quite neatly.

Well, on Christmas Day, 1862, we had a very hard gale and snowstorm, and early in the evening we had to anchor.  Then we sat down to dinner, which we hoped to enjoy.  There were several passengers on board, and when the soup was served and tasted each looked at the other, and I looked at the steward and asked him what kind of soup it was.  He said it was plain soup.  I asked why some meat had not been used in its making, and he replied that the cook must have eaten the meat, as he was given plenty.

The cook was sent for, and when he was confronted with the steward he began to use the refined language taught him by Captain Parrott.  I ordered the steward to put all the soup back into the tureen.  Then I invited the cook to take a seat at the table and consume the soup, which he did.  When he had taken it he rose and, bowing most politely, tucked the tureen under his arm like an admiral with his cocked hat, and said, “Excusey, my sir; all hab finishee,” and backed out of the saloon most politely.

A Brazilian Slaver.

In the year 1851 I was on a voyage to Melbourne, Australia, on the sailing ship “Severn.”  This was shortly after the opening of the gold mines.  We left Southampton with about one hundred passengers, and had a very fine run with fair weather.  There was no incident to mar the enjoyment of the trip until we neared the coast of Brazil, when one morning we saw a smart-looking brig hove to, waiting for us to come up, and when we came near our passengers became very much excited, as we could see there was an unusual number of men on her deck; the idea was that it was a pirate vessel.

When we came very near to her, a boat was put off from her, and an officer brought a letter from her captain asking for provisions and water, saying that the vessel was bound for the port of Santos, and had been blown off the coast in a pampero.  Neither the officer nor the boat’s crew could or would speak English.  They could only ask in Spanish for “tabac.”  Some of our sailors protested