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 the chancy, or rather, unchancy, headland, that makes a sharp angle in that part of the coast-line—Cape Runaway, namely; and ran, just at nightfall, into Hicks Bay, a small, deep indentation upon its farther side. Here we had a surprise, and a pleasant one, for the riding-lights of no fewer than four other small vessels twinkled through the twilight, shot streamers of gold down through the quiet water, and lent to this remote and lonely inlet the cheerful and homelike appearance of a peopled port. The men named these boats readily from their rig. “That’s Peters in the Resolution; an’ that’s the Konini next, an’ the Coronation—ought to ha’ been in Auckland days ago; an’ the little ’un she’s the Aorere. No’therly bound, all of ’em, an’ put in here for shelter. Visitin’ cards in the cabin soon, you’ll see.”

And, sure enough, the Tikirau’s anchor was scarcely down before the plash of oars resounded alongside, and the calling had begun. Our little saloon was shortly refurnished with a tableful of quite new faces, and the evening sped away like a shot in animated discussions concerning weather, trade and—engines.

Just before sunrise next morning, while we were loading our first boat, one after another the rest all slipped past us, out upon their homeward way, for the wind had come fair. Hicks Bay is perhaps the most picturesque spot on all that picturesque coast; and a lovely sight it was that morning. A tawny, grass-grown promontory ran out upon the sea to our right, the opposite barrier was a tumble of black rocks and Bush, and the head of the bay was formed by lofty mountains, covered almost to the water’s