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Chapter I. Introductory.

I was born at sea, about the beginning of the present century. The vessel which was my birthplace, and for some years afterwards my home, was a collier, trading between Newcastle and London, my father being part owner and captain. When I had reached the age of thirteen, my father determined to give up his sea-faring life, and settle on shore. He purchased a small cottage near a village on the south coast of England, where he could, as he said, “smell the sea, at any rate.” My inclinations, however, would not let me remain inactive on shore; and my father, seeing I was determined to make the sea my home, procured me a berth as cabin-boy on board a vessel trading to Buenos Ayres.

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During the next twenty years of my life, I frequently changed about from one ship to another, and visited almost every land under the sun. About the end of that time I entered as second mate on board of the Albatross, whaler, bound for the South Seas. At the time I shipped, she was lying in dock, in Liverpool, to which port she belonged. It was on board this vessel I first met Harry Murton, who was my companion for years afterwards, and was one of the survivors of the wreck on the West Coast of New Zealand. He and I became thick chums, and stuck to one another when we left the Albatross. Though only an A.B. before the mast on the whaler, he got on board the German Prince, running between London and Melbourne, as third mate; I having joined the same ship as second officer.

About this period the Australian diggings had attracted so much notice — people of all nations were flocking by thousands daily into the El Dorado of the South. Harry and I, soon after our arrival in Melbourne, caught the gold fever, and determined to try our luck at the diggings. With two other shipmates, we started inland, and duly arrived at our destination. It is needless to enter into particulars of our life there. One day making a “pile;” then for weeks we would never find even the “color.”

After over two years' knocking about on the different diggings, we found ourselves worth about three thousand pounds each, and Harry and I determined to return to Melbourne, and ship by some vessel to England. On arrival at Melbourne, however, no vessel happened to be leaving for a fortnight or three weeks, and so Harry proposed we should take a run over to New Zealand. We found a brig just about sailing for Lyttelton, on board of which we took passage. After a quick voyage we sighted Port Cooper, and in due time landed at Lyttelton—which in page 3 those days consisted of about half-a-dozen houses. The morning after our arrival, Harry and I started by the bridle-track over the Port Hills, to have a look at Christchurch, which was then very little more than one vast flax swamp. Just as we got to the top of the hill, however, it came on to rain, so we turned back, after a distant view of what is now perhaps the prettiest and best laid out town in New Zealand. On returning to the Port, the captain of the Corsair—the brig which had brought us over from Melbourne—informed us that he was going to sail for Port Chalmers the same evening, so we decided to continue on there with him. On arriving at Port Chalmers we left the brig, and proceeded up to Dunedin in a whale-boat. After putting up at an apology for an hotel, we strolled out up the hill behind the town, to have a look about us.

On our return to the “public,” who should we come across but Captain Marsh, of the Albatross. His vessel had been wrecked somewhere on the south coast of the island, but the crew managed to get ashore safely, and were now all in Dunedin. Captain Marsh had chartered a large three-masted schooner, and, with some of his old hands, was just about starting on a whaling and sealing voyage to the south of New Zealand. He immediately proposed our going with him, as he was in want of two officers—those of the Albatross having gone over to the Australian diggings. After some further conversation we agreed to join him; and two days afterwards we were once more at sea.