"Ye'll hae the gudeness, Mr. Williams, to be vary parteecular in having the coals trimmed in the bunkers. I've nae been doon in yon bunkers mysel', and I hae nae time at this moment to gang there; but I mind hearin' tell that there's something peculiar about the construction of them, so I'll thank ye to gie your attention to the matter, as I maun gang awa' to the office the noo."  
Mr. Williams, the second engineer, gave a rather gruff and surly response to the order of his chief, who immediately afterwards turned away and went on shore.
 
I, who was the third officer of the Serampore, upon the main-deck of which vessel the above colloquy took place, was standing in the main hatchway attending to the stowage of the cargo, and took but little heed of the circumstance at the time, though events which took place subsequently brought it to my mind.
 
Owing to some derangement of the Company's lines of service in the Red Sea, it had been necessary to bring forward for immediate duty the old Serampore, a side-wheeler, which, in consequence of the recent introduction of screw-steamers into our fleet, was beginning to be classed amongst the obsolete ones. Orders had been given by the agent at Bombay, where the ship was lying, to have the vessel got ready for sea at once and despatched to Aden and Suez, where her services were required to take the place of another ship in the regular line of Eastern communication.
 
The captain, officers, and engineers had all been hurriedly selected from other vessels and appointed to this ship, the second engineer having been the only officer in charge while she was laid up. He had expected, with much confidence, that he would have been made chief engineer in the event of the ship being wanted again, and, no doubt, felt a considerable soreness at a chief engineer from another ship being put over his head.
 
At this moment the chief officer called out to me—
 
"Have you got much more room there, Hardy? There are two more boat-loads of stuff coming alongside now."
 
"Yes, plenty of room, sir," replied I, and was soon busily engaged in superintending the safe stowage of boxes of tea, cases of indigo, and the other articles that composed our cargo. On the upper deck there was a constant stream of coolies shooting the baskets of coal down into the bunkers on both sides of the deck, through the small round holes which had been made for that purpose, and which were fitted with iron plates for covers let in flush with the deck, when closed.
 
From the fact that such a ship as the old paddle-steamer Serampore was still available for service, it will be readily understood that the incidents I am about to relate did not happen yesterday. In fact it was before the days when the Suez Canal was opened; and consequently, when it was known in Bombay that an extra P. & O. ship was put upon the berth, several officers and others who had come from up country, and were waiting for the regular mail to start to England, seized this opportunity, with the idea of getting a few more days in Egypt than they would otherwise have been able to secure.
 
 
In due time the Serampore was coaled and her cargo all in, so she slipped her moorings at Masagon and took up her berth off the Apollo Bunder, where her passengers were to join her. As it was in the end of the month of July, we anticipated meeting the south-west monsoon in its greatest force, and had prepared for this by sending down all the Serampore's upper spars, lowering the topmasts half-way down the lower masts, the backstays being "snaked" across and across the fore and main rigging on both sides, while the fore and main yards only were kept up aloft, and the trysail gaffs, with their respective sails.
 
"A quiet smoke."
The Serampore, as it was the fashion with steam-ships of that period, had a goodly show of top hamper when she was all a-taunto, and stripped in the manner which I have just described, she appeared, in my eyes, to present a melancholy aspect, something like a skinned rabbit. But as I had only recently been enjoying sea life as a midshipman in a large sailing-ship, that fact may excuse the comparison in which I indulged as to her appearance.
 
We were to sail next morning at nine o'clock, and the evening was passed by the chief and second officers and myself in a quiet smoke and a chat about things in general.
 
"What's the new skipper like, Mr. Urquhart?" said the second officer; "do you know anything of him?"
 
"Oh yes," replied the chief officer, "I think he's a very nice fellow."
 
"What's his name, sir?" said I.
 
"Skeed," replied the chief officer. "He was in the Navy once. I believe his nickname there was 'Donkey Skeed.'"
 
"'Donkey' Skeed?" said I, laughing; "what, on account of anything in his appearance?"
 
"Oh no; not on account of his ears," replied the chief, "but on account of his obstinacy. When he once gets an idea in his head, nothing in the world will ever knock it out of him."
 
"Where did you hear all this?" said the second mate.
 
"Oh, I remember hearing about him at home from a naval man I knew who was messmate with him on the West Coast."
 
"Well," said the second officer, "there isn't much to be obstinate about at present, except fighting the south-west monsoon."
 
"Exactly," replied Urquhart; "and from what he said to me to-day that's just the very thing he's got in his head. He's got a new idea, he says, which he is going to try."
 
"What is it?" said the second officer and I simultaneously.
 
"Well, he thinks that, instead of steering a direct course for Aden right in the teeth of the monsoon, it would be better policy to edge away across the Arabian Sea on a nor'-west course, making the monsoon a leading wind, because he declares it his opinion that on the Arabian coast the monsoon will be either much lighter or have drawn more to the southward."
 
"What did you say to that?"
 
"Oh, I said I thought it might be so, but that we should have to traverse considerably more distance; to which he replied that the speed at which the ship would travel under the improved conditions of weather would make up for that."
 
"I'm not at all sure about it," said the second officer.
 
"Nor I," said Mr. Urquhart. "But I believe he's going to try it this voyage anyhow. Good-night, you fellows; I'm going to turn in."
 
Early next morning several bunder-boats came alongside. The bunder-boats of Bombay, I may mention, are the most convenient water-carriages possible, and very suitable for the wet and blowy weather prevailing in the monsoon. They are large, roomy boats, with a covered-in cabin in the after-part, capable of holding four or five people comfortably. They are rigged with two short masts and a patémar, or lateen sail, and carry a strong crew. The first passengers to appear were two ladies, two children, and an ayah. These proved to be Mrs. Woodruff, her sister Miss Reed, and her two children, the lady having been ordered home from Allahabad, where her husband's regiment was stationed, on account of her health. A captain and subaltern of the same regiment, invalided; then two officers, Captains Thompson and Shaw, from Poonah, with their wives, going home on furlough; a professor from the university, named Spiller; and two more ladies, wives of civil servants, made up the number. While the fourth officer was busy looking after the baggage, and before he had well got it out of the gangway, the quartermaster of the watch called out—
 
"Look out, sir; captain's coming alongside."
 
"Shove that bunder-boat off, out of the way! Clear the gangway there!" and in another minute the Serampore's white gig flashed up alongside, and Captain Skeed sprang up the accommodation ladder.
 
All of us on deck saluted him, and turning hastily to the chief officer, he asked—
 
"Have you ordered steam, Mr. Urquhart, for nine o'clock?"
 
"Yes, sir."
 
"The ship appears to be down by the stern. Isn't she, Mr. Urquhart?"
 
"I believe she is, sir, a little. The carpenter hasn't given me the draught this morning."
 
"She appeared to me, as I pulled off in my gig, to be eight or nine inches at least, if not more."
 
"I thought she would do better in monsoon weather a little by the stern, but I'd no idea she was as much as that, and there's nothing in the cargo stowage that I'm aware of to account for it," said the chief officer.
 
"Well, I don't know that it matters very much," rejoined the captain; "at all events, we can't alter it now. See everything ready for slipping from the buoy at nine o'clock. Now we'll have breakfast," added he, as eight bells struck. "Has the purser come off with the ship's papers yet?"
 
"Not yet, sir; but he's been gone some time. I expect he'll be here every minute," replied Mr. Urquhart, as they entered the saloon together.
 
At the appointed hour the Serampore slipped from her buoy, and steaming away through the shipping at anchor, soon passed the light vessel, and leaving Colaba lighthouse on her quarter, began to breast the heavy seas and face the rain and spray that the fierce monsoon blast drove against her. In half-an-hour's time nothing was visible but the white-capped waves pounding against her bows, dimly seen at times through the thick driving rain that enveloped her, as it were, in a dreary and isolated world of her own.
 
"This is a pleasant prospect."
"This is a pleasant prospect," thought I to myself, as I buttoned up my oilskins and ascended the bridge ladder to relieve Mr. Urquhart at eight o'clock.
 
"Keep her west-sou'-west," said that officer, "and call the captain if there is any change."
 
"All right, sir," said I. "What's she going?"
 
"Five and a half," replied the chief officer; "twelve revolutions. Keep a good look-out for ships, Mr. Hardy."
 
"Ay, ay, sir," said I. "There's one comfort, that we can't change to much worse weather than we've got."
 
"No," said he with a laugh, as the Serampore buried her broad bows right up to the heel of her bowsprit, over an extra heavy sea.
 
The chief officer and his satellite, the fourth, who kept watch with him, after divesting themselves of their oilskins, betook themselves to the comfortable and well-lighted saloon, where such of the ladies and gentlemen as had not succumbed to the influences of the weather and the diving of the ship, were endeavouring to get up a show of sociability; though not even Miss Reed, who had struck me at dinner as being a lively, agreeable, and pretty person, had courage enough to attempt a performance on the piano.
 
"I wonder how many days we're in for of this," thought I to myself, as I paced the bridge, the pitching of the vessel jerking me against the rail at every other step. "Let me see—it's about 1700 miles to Aden, I think. At the rate we're going, we shall have nearly a fortnight of this. It's enough to make one savage;" and to relieve my feelings, I immediately yelled out to the two look-out men who were on the forecastle (Lascars, of course)—
 
"Koop dek agle" ("Good look out forward").
 
 
"Acha, sahib" ("Very well, sir"), came back like a shot from the men on duty, who were getting soused every now and then by the seas that broke over the bows.
 
The night was dark as well as thick. The wind howled shrilly through the Serampore's rigging, giving me a melancholy accompaniment to my march backwards and forwards across the bridge platform. I kept a bright look-out for any ships that might be about, as we were just now in the track of vessels bound up to Kurrachee or the Persian Gulf, and I knew that there would be scanty time to do anything to avoid a collision should we chance to meet one. Nothing, however, happened to disturb the dull monotony of what sailors would describe as a regular pile-driving business.
 
At eig............