MY brother officers — Coxon, Puttock, Hogan — and I, had served on board of the Kwang Tung some months before our names appeared in the Indian Government Gazette, and as we had been appointed by the Director of the Indian Marine on the authority of the Viceroy of India, we naturally considered that we had nothing to worry about, notwithstanding the fact that our appointments had been made subject to the approval of the Secretary of State for India.

One way and another, time slipped away very pleasantly and quickly on board the old Kwang Tung, which was commanded by a smart and popular captain; especially as we had a host of friends at both Port Blair and Nancowry, and we all looked forward to a very pleasant career in the Indian Marine.

However, one day, a year or so after our appointment, we received the bad news that a new regulation had come into force at home about the time of our appointments, limiting the age of new recruits to twenty-two, and as we were all a little over that age, the Secretary of State for India could not see his way to confirm our appointments. And so we had to seek other employment.

Some few months previously, Coxon had received the offer of an appointment to one of the Chinese Maritime Customs cruisers, then being commissioned at Hong Kong. I had not been to China, and as I thought I would like it, wrote and asked my father if he could not manage to get me appointed to the Chinese Maritime Customs cruisers through the Viceroy of India, Lord Dufferin, who was a great friend of his.

Some months after leaving the Indian Marine I received the desired appointment from Sir Robert Hart, who was a friend of the Viceroy.

We had served in the Indian Marine nearly two years before arrangements for our relief had been completed, and we left Port Blair for Calcutta by the monthly mail steamer. We had a great send-off and the kind captain of the Kwang Tung could not do enough for us. Among other things, he very thoughtfully had the ship and yards manned by the crew, and as we left the ship those on deck gave us a rousing cheer to show the world that we were not leaving through any fault of our own. And so ended a very happy period of my life.

On the way to Calcutta we arranged to have a group photograph taken of all four of us before we went our several ways. The day we went to the photographers was exceedingly hot, about 105° in the shade, and as so many horses had sunstroke that day we could not get a conveyance. Taking into consideration the fact that we were obliged to walk, I often marvel, when I look at that photograph, how we managed to look so cool in spite of our cloth clothes.

The first thing Puttock and I did at Calcutta was to present ourselves before the Board of Trade Examiners for our First Mate's Certificates. Having obtained these, we accepted a very kind invitation from Coxon's friend, Mr. McDonnell, to stay with him at Narayanganj, near Dacca. Mr. McDonnell gave us a splendid time, which I thoroughly enjoyed, particularly the excellent riding on his beautiful horses. Coxon is the author of that delightful book, " And That Reminds Me."

On our return to Calcutta from Narayanganj, Puttock and I accepted an offer from the Irrawaddy Flotilla Company to join their river steamers plying between Rangoon and Mandalay, and proceeded to Rangoon forthwith, only too glad to have something remunerative to do, until we obtained the appointments we had applied for, as our funds had reached a low ebb.

Rangoon is a beautiful place, and its huge golden pagoda, perched on the top of a hill, is a magnificent sight, particularly on a bright holiday when thousands of gaudily-dressed Burmese throng the long flight of steps that lead up the hill to the pagoda.

About half-way between Rangoon and Mandalay is a port named Prome, which at that time was the terminus of the railway from Rangoon, where steamers received mails destined for Mandalay. Here I found an old friend of mine who asked me to go out for a ride with him one afternoon. Both our mounts were pretty fresh and it was easier to let them go their own pace than to try and restrain them. We had had a good ride and were on the way home through a pretty lane, when suddenly my friend disappeared under some trees at the foot of a slope, and before I could pull up I found myself in a pool of soft mud beside him, out of which we had great difficulty in extricating ourselves and the ponies. By the time we had wiped some of the black mud off our white clothes and remounted, it was nearly dark.

It was hard enough controlling the pace of our ponies before our mud bath. Now that we were going home with slimy mud on our hands, bridles and saddles, they took complete charge and went at a full gallop.

How it was that we ever reached my friend's house is a marvel, and, more marvellous still, that we ran over no one when passing through crowded village roads lined with illuminated bazaars and brightly-lit stalls.

I was so dirty that I begged my friend to lend me a clean outfit, as I could not return to my ship as I stood, for my captain — a hard case — would draw his own conclusions as to how I had got into such a mess.

The captain was, indeed, a hard case. While the steamer was on one of her voyages from Mandalay to Rangoon, a woman passenger fell overboard. The first officer ran forward at once to tell the captain, who was navigating the vessel, naturally expecting him to make some effort to pick her up; but the first question the captain asked was, " Has she paid her fare? " On being told she had, he said, " Those boats astern will pick her up," and took no further notice.

As the boats in question were nowhere near the woman, and had no reason to know of the accident, they could do nothing to help her.

I had served in the Irrawaddy Flotilla Company about two months when I received my letter of appointment to the Chinese Maritime Customs cruisers, with instructions to report at Hong Kong, where the Kowloon Commissioner of Customs had his office. I resigned my post and took the first steamer to Singapore, where I obtained a passage to Hong Kong on board the Blue Funnel S.S. Ulysses.



While the Ulysses passed the many islands in the approaches to Hong Kong, I was greatly interested in the Chinese junks we saw, for they were strange to me, and made a perfect picture when the sun shone on their sails, giving them the appearance of silk.



As junks are built to navigate shallow waters, and rest on the bottom of the sea at low tide, they have no keel, and for this reason their masts are not stepped at all, but their tapered lower ends are held between the jaws cut in two stout timbers secured to the frames of the junk. The upper timber goes across the deck, while the lower timber crosses the hold a little way above where the hold-flooring or ceiling should be.

As the heavy sails call for the easing up of the lee-rigging when running free, you can well imagine the groaning noise these vessels must make when they labour in a heavy sea. Small wonder that the crew of a junk cut away her tall and heavy mainmast as soon as the weather becomes really bad, otherwise the heavy labouring will cause the loosely stayed mast to loosen the junk's planking.

The strain on the junk caused by this method of securing the masts is partly overcome by means of wooden bulkheads running across the junk before and abaft the mainmast. These bulkheads, being securely fastened to the framework of the junk, the edges are then caught, which makes them watertight; and this is the origin, no doubt, of the system of water-tight bulkheads in the present-day vessels of any kind.

They are used to strengthen the masts — in the junks of southern China the mainmast only needs strengthening.



Among the few passengers she carried there was a man named May in the Hong Kong Government Service, who was returning from home leave. May and I became friends on the journey to Hong Kong, and on our arrival he very kindly invited me to dine with him and accompany him to the St. Andrew's Ball that evening. I enjoyed my first evening at Hong Kong immensely, thanks to Mr. F. H. May, who subsequently held the post of Governor of Hong Kong.

There now stands a monument in a prominent place in Hong Kong to commemorate his term of Governor-ship, which he resigned in 1919, when he was Sir Henry May, K.C.M.G. He was a very keen sailor at the time I first met him, but as he had not then had much practice, he asked me to sail his boat in the forthcoming regatta, and I am proud to say that I won that event for him a few weeks after my arrival at Hong Kong, on November 30th, 1888. I at once reported myself to the Kowloon Commissioner of Customs, who appointed me to the Revenue cruiser, Fei Hoo, to which vessel I was conveyed by steam-launch the following day.