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104 in. Moreover, the Yarraman's officers and myself were old friends, and, if the truth must be told, my heart yearned for the sight of a ship and a talk about days gone by.

Accordingly, we made our way down to the Embankment, took the underground train at Charing Cross for Fenchurch Street, thence by "The London and Blackwall" to the West India Docks.

The Yarraman, travel-stained and bearing on her weather-beaten plates the evidences of the continuous tramp-like life she had led, lay well out in the stream. Chartering a waterman, we were put on board, and I had the satisfaction of renewing my acquaintance with her chief officer, Riley, at the yawning mouth of the for'ard hatch. The whilom apprentice, Cleary, now raised to the dignity of third officer, grinned a welcome to me from among the disordered raffle of the fo'c's'le head, while that excellent artificer, Maclean, oil-can and spanner in hand, greeted me affectionately in Gaelic from the entrance to the engine-room. The skipper was ashore, so I seated myself on the steps leading to the hurricane deck, and felt at home immediately.

Upon the circumstances attending that reunion there is no necessity for me to dwell. Suffice it that we dined in the deserted wastes of the saloon, and adjourned later to my friend Percival's cabin in the alley way just for'ard of the engine-room, where a bottle of Scotch whisky, a strange collection of glass ware, and an assortment of excellent cigars, were produced. Percival and Cleary, being juniors, ensconced themselves on the top bunk; Maclean (who had been induced to abandon his machinery in honour of our meeting) was given the washhandstand. Riley took the cushioned locker in the corner, while I, as guest, was permitted the