The month in port had pulled us together in a remarkable manner. The ship's company forward were as one large family gathered by strange chance from the ends of the earth, and, because of the wonderful adaptability of human nature, we were working and living our life in pleasant harmony. Of course it might as well be said that if anything otherwise had occurred, if constant fighting had taken place, our well trained masters of the cabin would have put the disturbances down with little delay.

On the Fuller we mustered an imposing array of nationalities; besides Americans, we had Norwegians, a Swede, an Italian, two Germans, and an Englishman. The mate, an American, had "Blue Nose" written all over him. He was one of those hard men, originating in Nova Scotia, who have added their bit to the consummate seamanship of New England and New York. The Chinese cook, and Japanese boy, and later on our Kanaka sailors, helped to make us as conglomerate as any melting pot. The one man we lacked, and it was the only place in my career of much work and poor pay, that I did not find him, was the Irishman. We missed Paddy; he should have been there.

The amount of the pay day coming to us, some time in the distant future, was a constant source of computation. Figuring the time since the working off of the dead horse, and deducting the slop chest account, also the money advanced while in port, and while the figures were often disappointing, there was still the possibility of a tidy pay day looming far ahead. Unlike the poor whaleman with the prospect of nothing but his "Iron Dollar" and escape from slavery, we did have a show to collect. The captain in American ships is allowed to charge a profit of ten per cent on his slop chest account. I doubt if Captain Nichols did even this. He had the steward serve out such things as were wanted, and the prices were lower than the cost of similar articles on South Street. When Peter dipped in too strong, getting, or rather attempting to get expensive things from the slops, the captain refused to let him have them. Peter once wanted some tobacco, he was going very heavy on this item as he regularly gave it away. Captain Nichols shut down on him and after that handed him cigars whenever he happened to see Peter.

Scouse was one of the principal calculators of the pay day. He had a frugal mind and was planning great things with his money when he should once more get back to New York. With Joe gone, Scouse became a different man. He was a sobered Scouse, a deep thinking plodder who gave himself up to day dreams that must have been of vast extent. Scouse announced that he intended to get married. He planned to meet and marry some good obliging German girl, "Just over; dot's the one." A girl not averse to a big lumbering Dutchman with a shock of coarse red hair, and a terrible appetite; however a man not afraid to work. His idea was to go west. "No more from dis rotten sailor's humbug by me. I was going to be somepody ant get respect ant lif like decent people." Also he figured on a nest egg of a little over one hundred dollars. But then, families have been founded on less, though of course the founders were not destined to be welcomed home by a band of crimps and blandishers.

Frenchy too had great plans. He was going back to Dunkirk. To be sure he even talked of going back to Havre, in the French Line, paying his steerage passage. Then he planned to get spliced, and his scheme was to go out in the fishing fleet, or else back to New Caledonia, where he knew the country, and start life afresh.

Axel was going back to Sweden, to Stockholm, so he said, and never more out on the briny billows of discontent. Fred was also a prospective homeward bounder. Trondhjem was his destination, and the fishing fleets of the town the means for his living. Tony and Charlie Horse intended to join Scouse in so far as they were bound for the interior of the U. S. A.

During these many discussions, the wise sailor-men like Hitchen, Brenden, and Smith, the seasoned shellbacks, full of the cruel furrows of time spent before the mast, and God alone knows what other outlandish callings that roving men may follow, kept their counsel and smiled.

"Sonny, I guess I am down on the books of some ship that sails a few weeks after we get back. Another crowd, another skipper and mates, and another voyage." Old Smith was as nearly sentimental as it was possible for him to be, and still be Old Smith. "Yes, I like this ship, but how in hell are we all going to sign on again when more than half the crowd is going to get married?"

It was strange how thoughtful the hard days of hauling that chain made all of us. Besides this, the Honolulu climate was gradually getting under our hardened hides. They can say what they like about the Hawaiian Islands being a "white man's country." It is if you mean a white man who never has anything harder to do than to tell a Kanaka or a Jap to lift the burden. The trades do blow, and it is lucky for the inhabitants that they do, otherwise, the Isthmus of Panama would be duplicated out in the broad Pacific. In spite of the pleasing winds and the beautiful clear weather, things are a bit too balmy for continued physical exertion. Lifting a gin rickey is good enough exercise, and if you lift them often enough, out at Sans Souci, for instance, you can imagine anything you like about the Islands.

Working men stay home, if you are white, let the coolies shoulder the physical burdens; but if you are wealthy and also lucky, you will very likely own stock in a sugar plantation. They were paying seventy-five per cent dividends in those days, and this is so even now, I believe. Also if one is ambitious to put pep and fire into things, seek a cooler clime. It is a fact that the white people of the Islands, who can do so, spend a part of their time on the coast and whenever possible, prospective mothers go to the coast during the time of their pregnancy, as the Hawaiian climate seems to rob them of much of the necessary vitality for the ordeal of birth.

But the Islands do hold a magic, all pervading charm, they are as unlike any other islands as it is possible for them to be. Honolulu, with its beautiful villas, with its modern setting amid a glory of tropical verdure, springing from an age old fertile humus, bathed in tropic sun, cannot be duplicated.

On getting alongside the railroad wharf, which we did by the economical and laborious process of warping across the harbor by use of a kedge anchor, we found that the greater part of the day had gone by, a day that started at four o'clock in the morning with the regular washdown to begin things, when we were ordered to carry out the kedge and pick up our moorings.

Time was plentiful with us in those days, for the eight hour schedule had never been heard of. Mr. Furuseth and Senator La Follette were not there to shield us from cruel fate, and besides, whatever extra drilling was done, was simply at the expense of sleep, a thing under the complete control of the mate. We got up when we were told to by the mate, as Charlie Horse went aft for his orders each evening, and when extra work was to be done he was instructed accordingly.

Once alongside, we took aboard the long hardwood sugar chutes, worn smooth by endless polishing of the gunny sack, in which the partly refined sugar is shipped. These chutes were arranged very cleverly by Nigger who came aboard with a shore gang of stevedores. The inclination must be just right, and the chutes must be placed just so, in order to prevent spilling, where it is necessary to cut corners in order to reach the farther parts of the hold. We were glad that natives were to stow the ship; in fact this work is mighty technical, and we never would have been able to do so with our crew. Working with the natives, we picked up a lot of knowledge about the handling of sugar, points that were to be of much use to me in later years when I returned to the islands as mate of a steamer.

On the Railroad Wharf there were several lines of track and some turnouts carrying short flat cars loaded with sugar bags all safe under huge tarpaulins. We also found the warehouse pretty well stocked with it, and were told that when we once started to load, the sugar would pour into the ship in a constant stream.

That night we again put up our mosquito bars against the enemy from which we had mercifully been saved during the few days in the stream. Tired but strangely content, we sat on the fo'c'sle head in the evening glow or walked out on the stringpiece of the railroad wharf, which then jutted far into the harbor, and watched the lights aboard the U. S. S. Bennington. Except Peter, we had made no friends aboard the gunboat. They seemed like men of a different world, as indeed they were. The sounding of "taps" over the water, the clear plaintive notes of the bugle, ended our day. We were to load on the morrow; at last we were to start on the final half of our voyage, with the taking aboard of our first bag of sugar.