As the hold began to fill up, the top of the sugar was brought inboard from the wings to an apex, and the lower cargo space not quite filled. The 'tween deck was then loaded in order to carry the dead weight sufficiently high to prevent the ship from being stiff; to make her more "sea kindly" as sailors say. Theoretical questions of metacentric height, of the center of buoyancy, and their relation to stability never bothered the captain or Mr. Zerk. But as the loading progressed they paid a lot of attention to her trim and in the placement of the last part of the cargo, the mate assumed complete charge. The Fuller sailed best trimmed a few feet by the stern, but in the final loading this extra depth aft was cut down to a single foot as a matter of experiment, the mean draft loaded being seventeen feet eight inches, giving her the usual freeboard of about four feet or three inches to every foot of draft, according to the old rule. Draft is shown by figures cut into the stem and stern post; these are six inches high and the figure rests on the mark it indicates.

In addition to the sugar from the railroad, we had steamers of the inter-island trade come along side and discharge their cargoes right onto our deck. These craft have been touched upon before. The Mauna Loa, one of the largest at that time, was quite a passenger carrier. As I think of the inter-island steamers they always appear to have been somewhat out of drawing, when compared with the beautiful sailers of those days.

During the final week of loading, when we had closed the 'tween deck hatches to the lower hold and were putting down the finishing tiers of cargo, we paid our last visits ashore. I bid "good-bye" to Mr. McInerny and the good friends I had made, both in society and out. We went over to the British Monarch, Hitchen and I, for a last visit. The mates had a bit of a "blow" for us, hot toddy, which tasted right in spite of the warm weather, cigars, and some Huntley and Palmer biscuits broken out of their stores for this special occasion. Of course we promised to write, and never did, and Mr. Gore gave me an old copy of Raper, he having two of them, as a parting gift. To Hitchen he gave a tin of navy cut that had been sent out to him from England. They were hoping for word of a charter to be on their way, and thought they might load sugar for New York, when we planned to meet again as sailors sometimes do.

With what little change we had left, we laid in a few stores for the voyage home, a few bunches of bananas, odds and ends of clothing, and the like. I purchased a pair of mittens, after a search in that tropic city, as mine had worn out in hauling at the gear. The most startling addition to our life forward was a green parrot that Frenchy brought aboard, having swapped him at the Union saloon for a small brig, rigged in a bay rum bottle. This brig had been a long time making, and Frenchy only let go of it when he was assured of a prize. The bird, hailing from God knows where, as I don't believe they are native to the islands, was to be a present to his sister Madeleine. Frenchy named him Jaques, at once vulgarized to common Jake, and he was hung in his wooden cage under the fo'c'sle head.

Just before hauling into the stream, Captain Nichols shipped three Kanakas to take the places left vacant by Mr. Stoddard, Jimmy, and Joe. This made it certain that someone from the crew would be taken aft as second mate. The Kanakas were a rare assortment. Kahemuku, a lanky, poetical looking fellow with long hair and dreamy eyes, hailed from Tahiti. The two others, both of them short and somewhat stout, were from Honolulu and should have known better than to ship around the Horn. John Aahee was assigned to the starboard watch; he was clean shaven and dull, a poor devil who merely existed after we got to sea. Black Joe, so the mate called him, since his name was beyond ordinary understanding, was fully whiskered with a bunch of fuzz that looked like the stuffing of an old hair mattress. Joe had a peculiar idea about the relation between officers and men, and never could get this straightened out. Black Joe and Kahemuku were assigned to the port watch to take the place of Jimmy and Joe.

Some of the men thought that I would be called aft as second mate. Ambitious as I was for preferment, I realized that the billet would be about the worst thing that could happen to me. Whatever the captain may have thought about it, the mate was against me, as we remained at loggerheads while I visited with my "dude friends," which I did at intervals as long as we were in port.

Old Smith was the logical candidate for the job, and the mate wanted him. Others were like Barkis, but the strange part was that the real sailors in the crew, the men who knew enough to stand a watch at sea and work the ship, were the most anxious to side step the honor.

Having loaded our sugar, the chutes were sent ashore, and we again hauled out into the stream, this time for good. We at once battened down the hatches, putting on triple tarpaulins, and, having taken down the cargo pendants, we again rove the seagoing running gear; after a day of scrubbing, during which the spars were washed clean of dust, we then began to bend sail. This took us the greater part of two days while we sent aloft the fine weather canvas. Then followed another general washing down and cleaning over the side, and the ship A. J. Fuller looked herself again. Loaded to her deep sea trim, with yards squared to a hair and canvas furled with a harbor stow, we were as flash a ship as ever hailed from the port of New York—clean, and seamanlike in every detail. Fancy manropes were got out for the gangways, the galley smoke stack was given a coat of black paint, making "Charlie Noble," as this piece of humble but necessary sea furniture is called, as sporty as any part of the old girl.

In the meantime, while our busy little ship world revolved within its restricted orbit, events of historic importance were happening in the great arena beyond the seas. Dewey had captured Manila and the first troops to go out from the United States were expected in Honolulu, en route to the Philippines. Preparations to welcome them of a gigantic nature were carried out by the enthusiastic citizens of Honolulu, the American element being in the ascendant. A tremendous flag was got ready, to be raised over the railroad wharf, and huge stores of sandwiches were made and held in readiness for the soldiers. Also every barrel and bottle of beer in the place was put on ice against an emergency. The citizens were determined that hunger should not outflank the U. S. forces, if by any means it could be prevented, nor was old General Thirst to be allowed to down a single man. It was also decided that U. S. legal tender was not to be accepted when offered for refreshment by a man wearing the uniform of Uncle Sam, showing how war fever (for a time) upsets the commercial mind.

The transports City of Pekin, City of Sydney, and Australia, came into the harbor on June first carrying twenty-two hundred troops. These vessels were under convoy of the U. S. S. Charleston. The day was a gala one and in the midst of the excitement we received our orders to sail for Delaware Breakwater. This came as a surprise as we expected to be sent to Frisco because of the possibility of our being picked up by a Spaniard in view of the uncertain state of affairs in the Atlantic. We were then in the stream, wistful gazers at the harbor activities and the glimpses of great times ashore afforded by the pier heads and the esplanade.

With the coming of our orders, Captain Nichols sent out such fresh provisions as deep water ships usually take to sea with them. A potato bin had been constructed under the fo'c'sle head in a place that would be fairly dry and having a good circulation of air. Into this we put about a ton of the tubers. Some fresh meat was sent aboard, and a few bunches of bananas strung in the after wheel house for the cabin mess. A number of our men had been offered billets on coasters, and this was specially so during the last few weeks of our loading. The pay day of close to fifty dollars already on the books, and the prospect of landing in New York with almost eighty dollars added to it, was a prospect hard to leave, especially since the plans for great futures depended absolutely upon these prospective nest eggs. The fact, however, was that we were a well selected crowd and liked to sail together. The captain was absolutely square and the mate was a sailor from his toes to his truck; we were too much accustomed to the routine on the Fuller to want to change. As far as I was concerned, I was happy to remain on board and work back around old Cape Stiff again. Mr. McInerny had offered to have me released from the articles and wanted me to take up my residence in the islands, telling me of the many advantages, much after the manner of Robinson Crusoe's old father, when that wilful lad determined upon the sea as a career. I, too, had old Crusoe's trouble pretty well soaked into my system. I was really an enthusiast about going to sea, in spite of the hard knocks, so I made up my mind to complete the voyage.

On Sunday, five days before we sailed, the captain called Old Smith aft and formally offered him the billet as second mate. Old Smith refused to move out of the fo'c'sle, and came forward with a fat cigar in his teeth, saying, "The skipper's all right. He sure is all right."

After that we were too busy to think anything more of the vexed problem, being horsed about at bending sail and preparing for sea. On the eve of our departure we were sitting on the fo'c'sle head watching the crowded harbor, the comings and goings from the men o' war and transports, and listening to the bugle calls. We had washed up after the day's work, and the mess cooks had gone to the galley for the kids.

"We'll sleep our last night in, tonight," ventured Frenchy, as we perched on the heel of the starboard cathead. It was a thought that came to all of us.

"Grub O!" called Fred from the space about the fore pin rail, where both watches ate together while in port. We sat around the kids, under the tall gear of the foremast rising overhead, the faint peppering of stars showing between the yards as we began our supper.

"Here comes the mate," said Martin, who was perched on the short ladder leading to the fo'c'sle head, from the port side of the house.

"Wot of it, let him come."

Presently Mr. Zerk stood in the gangway looking at us, he bulked big, and smoked a strong cigar. This was the first time he had ever intruded upon our meals during our stay in port.

"Where's the second mate?" he asked pleasantly.

Most of us looked around anxiously, half expecting the old second mate would bob up from some dark corner.

"Come on, where is he?" The mate was evidently enjoying his little game. "Where is he now?" came the question again, but in a sharp tone such as we usually associated with coming trouble. "Come on, where is he?" Suddenly he started to laugh; of course we all joined him in a sort of nervous chorus.

"Ho, there he is hiding behind the kid! Our new second mate, Mr. Morstad! Well, well, well!" and this is how Tommy, most unexpected of candidates, became Mr. Morstad, second mate of the ship A. J. Fuller.

"Lay aft," said the mate, as he turned to go, "the steward has your dinner ready, and don't forget to bring your napkin."

Tommy was choking with astonishment, speechless, and miserable. None of us laughed at the last cruel thrust; in fact we felt sorry for Tommy, but as soon as we saw him stop eating the fo'c'sle grub, with the quick perception that better things awaited him aft, a lively discussion arose.

"Call him Mr. Morstad!" thundered Australia. "I won't have no disrespect here just because Mr. Morstad ain't had the bringin' up you an' me has. No, sir, I have some respect for the officers of this ship, I have."

There was a lot more in a similar vein. Volunteers offered to carry his chest aft, and did every thing but lift it, poor Tommy having to drag it along the deck until he got to the waist, when Chips came out of his den and helped him the rest of the way. It was dark then, and the gong for the second cabin table no doubt compensated Tommy for all the tortures of his departure.

"I'm damn glad he ain't in my watch," said Brenden, and all of us to port felt the same way. Before Tommy had time to adjust himself to his new condition, the kicking started to starboard.

In this particular episode of the voyage Mr. Zerk departed as far from the traditions of the sea as it was possible for him to go. The next morning, as we got under way to sea, Captain Nichols made it a point to show public respect to the new second officer. It was "Mr. Morstad, this," and "How do you head, sir?" all of which pleased Tom immensely, and was the right and proper thing to do.