"I don't think," replied Havens, a tall, bland, cool-looking, leisurely

Englishman, attired in spotless duck, and deliberately dealing with a

cigarette. "I may say I know. She's consigned to me from Auckland by

Donald & Edenborough. I am on my way aboard."

"What ship is she?" asked the ancient mariner.

"Haven't an idea," returned Havens. "Some tramp they have chartered."

With that he placidly resumed his walk, and was soon seated in the

stern-sheets of a whaleboat manned by uproarious Kanakas, himself

daintily perched out of the way of the least maculation, giving his

commands in an unobtrusive, dinner-table tone of voice, and sweeping

neatly enough alongside the schooner.

A weather-beaten captain received him at the gangway.

"You are consigned to us, I think," said he. "I am Mr. Havens."

"That is right, sir," replied the captain, shaking hands. "You will find

the owner, Mr. Dodd, below. Mind the fresh paint on the house."

Havens stepped along the alley-way, and descended the ladder into the

main cabin.

"Mr. Dodd, I believe," said he, addressing a smallish, bearded

gentleman, who sat writing at the table. "Why," he cried, "it isn't

Loudon Dodd?"

"Myself, my dear fellow," replied Mr. Dodd, springing to his feet with

companionable alacrity. "I had a half-hope it might be you, when I found

your name on the papers. Well, there's no change in you; still the same

placid, fresh-looking Britisher."

"I can't return the compliment; for you seem to have become a Britisher

yourself," said Havens.

"I promise you, I am quite unchanged," returned Dodd. "The red

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