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for hours, so long as the wind blows off the shore, which it does throughout the summer, they have the benefit of this cyclone of smell. Curiously, however, unlike the sewage, it does not seem to be unhealthy, and it is devoutly to be hoped, for the sake of future dwellers on this choice piece of ground, that it will not prove to be so.

Not only are the wharves, with their peculiarities, well known to sailors, but also nearly all parts of the great Bay of San Francisco, from the odoriferous Mission Bay above mentioned to Oakland Creek, where on its foul and filthy mud, ships 'lie up' for months, and where last year (1897) for a time quite an epidemic of typhoid fever raged. Then there is the Bay of Sausalito, that favourite and sheltered spot, with its calm and delightful climate so different from Mission Bay, with its smoke, and smell, and fog, only eight miles or so away. No wonder Sausalito is the spot chosen by many captains when it is a case of 'laying up' the ship. It is a charming place. The little town up the wooded and steep hillside is picturesque, and the people are most hospitable. Ships lie well out of the strength of the tide, which goes tearing through Racoon Straits and up

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the bay. Moreover, if they wish, captains can lay their ships on the mud, and, in a measure, keep their bottoms clean. It is a safe place to lie, and quite handy to get from it to the city. Few sailors, if they have to ‘lie up,' regret doing so in Sausalito, with the exception, of course, of those whose captains only permit them to go on shore once every two or three months. It is the shipping 'Rotten Row' of San Francisco Bay, and lucky are the ships that get there before the number of vessels which the little bay can safely hold, is completed.

Far up the Sacramento River, thirty-five miles from San Francisco, is the Bay of Martinez. There the water is fairly fresh, which helps to clean the bottoms of ships, and prevents fresh growth and weed adhering to them -and these, if allowed to grow, knock so many knots each day off the speed of the ships on the homeward voyage. But although there is fresh water in the river at Martinez, there are mosquitos in the air, and very badly have the faces and arms of the sailors to suffer for the sake of the bottoms of the ships. Mosquitos are very unpleasant insects to have to deal with, and it seems to cause them intense pleasure-judging from appear

ances-when they come across some young healthy-looking sailor, as large numbers at once rush to the feast, and will not be denied.

Things often go heavily with the sailors laid up for months at Martinez. It is a long way to the city, and takes time and money; and although there is squirrel, rabbit, and duck shooting all winter, not many can get it, and other amusements are hard to find. It is weary work having to remain by a ship for months within a hundred yards of the shore, doing ship's work all the time. Every now and then some captain or officer gets up a cricket or football club, which keeps things going for a time; but, take it all in all, sailors get pretty weary of ' lying up' in Martinez. However, there

they are very often, and there often for months, sometimes a year, and under exceptional circumstances for two years-they have to remain.

CHAPTER III.

DISCONTENT.

How often do we hear it said that seamen are a most discontented class of men, and whatever you do for their welfare does not remove one jot or tittle of their discontent, and that they will grumble at the best of food, and the fairest and most just treatment! In point of fact, we are told nothing can in any way help to remove their discontent, and that so long as there remains a sailor, there will accompany him a growl.

Two questions on the subject may fairly be asked. Has the average seaman any solid ground for discontent? and are seamen the only men who possess the faculty for growling? Regarding the second proposition, do we, it may well be asked, observe all other men except seamen walking through life with

the smile of happy contentment ever resting on their features? Do merchants, shipowners, tradesmen of all kinds never growl? Do they possess the happy secret? We trow not. Wheat rises and falls, and so do freights. Trade is good one year, and bad the next. If we could cast a glance at all the different professions and trades in an instant of time, how many, either of employers or employed, should we find with an air of deep content about them? Is not the same spirit of discontent easily observable in numbers of young aristocrats and swells who dawdle round clubs and go to race-meetings, and perpetual dinners and entertainments? Yes, sailors may growl; but aristocracy joins them, if not always outwardly, at least inwardly, and it is often a perpetual and long-winded growl about most trivial matters, sighing unconsciously for something which, with money and splendid dinners, high-born companions and luxurious surroundings, they cannot grasp any more than the sailors.

Discontent is a universal complaint, in many cases caused by the uncertainties of business, in many by worthless trifles; but also, if not actually caused, it is in many cases deeply accentuated, by causes unjust

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