the seas wanting help such as has been indicated, and too often finding none.

The ship referred to dropped her anchor. The calm and beautiful bay, the picturesque city laid out in front, and the brilliant Californian sun, one might have imagined, would have brought a touch of rest and peace to those weary sailors if they had been left alone. This, however, was not to be. Times were busy, ships were loading and sailing rapidly, and men were scarce on shore and hard to get to fill up the crews of those vessels which wanted men to take the places of deserters.

The crimps boarded the ship the moment of arrival, and all their tempting goods and chattels were laid out before the crew, and a number of the men were soon on the way to the shore with their friends and protectors.' On the next morning the writer met six of those young sailors in the Seamen's Institute, and asked them how they possibly could have done such a mad act as to leave the ship with six months' pay due to them. Their simple reply was that they were wretched in mind and body, with an intense desire to go ashore and have a good meal.

It has already been stated that their

'guardians' were ready at hand to satisfy both these desires, and offer much more in addition.

Four of these sailors were badly touched with scurvy. They showed the writer their legs from the knee downwards, and they were much discoloured; moreover, their gums were affected.

The writer told them they were not fit to go to sea, and should be in the hospital, and said he would go at once to the British Consul, and arrange to get them sent there. They replied they would have to see the boarding-master about it. Unfortunately, the writer did not ask their names, nor that of the house in which they were staying; but they promised, after seeing him, to come back, and wait at the Institute till they heard what the Consul said.

The matter was immediately reported to the British Consul, who promised to see the men attended to, and asked for them to be sent to him without delay.

The writer then returned to the Institute, but the sailors were not there. He never saw them again, and the next morning ascertained that those men, with scurvy upon them, were shipped away for another five months'

voyage on a deep-water ship bound round the Horn, after being sixteen hours on shore from a voyage of about seven months!

The British Consul was in no way to blame. The abominable conditions under which sailors are shipped away, after being lured or starved out of their ships, are the cause of such monstrous occurrences.

That ship lay in San Francisco three months. The sail-maker on board, an old and most respectable man, fell ill. He was taken to the hospital, and there he lay for about a fortnight, a perfect example of patience and resignation, and then, without much suffering, without a murmur, and only words of gratitude for those who attended him, that brave old sailor breathed his last, and was laid to rest thousands of miles from his home, his friends, and all he loved. An apprentice fell down the hold, and narrowly escaped being killed. He, too, was taken to the hospital, but happily recovered; though as he lay there he saw, on the bed opposite, his old shipmate, who had shared with him all the dangers and trials of the long voyage, pass peacefully beyond the veil.

Some little time before the ship sailed for home, the carpenter, a comparatively young

man, was taken ill. Everything that was possible was done for him. An excellent man was in command of the ship, having come out from England to take that position, and he urged him either to go to the hospital, or be sent home overland. But the carpenter refused. He would go in the ship, and nothing would turn him from his purpose. The night before the ship sailed the writer held a service on board, and somehow it seemed a very solemn one, and the vessel sailed next day on her long voyage to England. She arrived safely home, but the carpenter did not land with those who stepped ashore so gladly in old England. Not many weeks after the voyage commenced, he was obliged to take to his bunk, and his life fast ebbed away. Shortly before he died, he asked an apprentice who was with him to sing a hymn, and the boy sang 'Safe in the arms of Jesus,' and soon afterwards he passed away, and they said his end was peace.

Perhaps the writer has deviated a little from the subject which he has in hand, but such a story cannot fail to excite interest.

CHAPTER VIII.

RUNNING MEN OUT' OF SHIPS.

FROM 800 to 1,100 seamen annually deserted British sailing-ships in San Francisco from 1892 to 1898, leaving behind them when they deserted, and in the two months' advance of £8 which most of them left with the boarding-masters before they sailed again from San Francisco, many thousands of pounds annually. Who profits by all this money? Does the Board of Trade get all the wages into their possession which are sacrificed by deserting seamen? We trow not, for at present it is no difficult thing to produce bills against a sailor which go far to prove that when they are paid there are no surplus wages for the Board of Trade to take. Do Do any shipowners at all profit by the wages of deserting seamen? Do any captains of ships? For it stands to reason if a ship takes five or