A Lively Passage.

Mr. H. B. Dobie, of Auckland, who was a passenger by the Lutterworth in 1875 on the voyage out to Auckland, after reading my account of the fire when it was published in the "Star," sent me the following:—

"In reading the very interesting account of the old Luterworth, I was reminded of a hair-raising incident that disturbed the peace of mind of those who knew about it far more than the fire in the saloon.

"The second-class passengers reached their quarters in the hold by the mizzen hatchway, which had been provided with a temporary skylight, through which came all our light and air. When this was swept overboard in a gale, the ship's hatchway was replaced, battened down, and a tarpaulin stretched over the top. This resulted in our quarters being pitchy dark both day and night for the next six weeks. To get on deck one had to climb the companion ladder, push back a wooden slide, and squeeze under the tarpaulin.

"I had a few candles, and, instructed by Mr. Eadington, the mate, I constructed a slush lamp, which smelt abominably, but gave enough light to read by. After a week of this Cimmerian darkness one of the passengers who was always begging candles of me, appeared one morning with a good supply. Not only did he return those he had borrowed, but he gave me a whole packet. It seems he had removed some boards in the bulkhead of his cabin and broached cargo. Immediately round our cabins was stowed 40 tons of blasting powder. I could hear it sifting in the barrels with the rolling of the ship as I lay in my bunk. To reach the case of candles that he had broken open he had to crawl over the power barrels with a lighted candle! It was a miracle that the ship was not blown to atoms in mid-ocean.

"According to 'The Ancient Mariner,' the albatross is a bird of ill-omen. It certainly was the case on board the Lutterworth. One morning, while we were at breakfast, Mr. Eadington caught two, but one of the passengers claimed them as they had been captured with the line he had been fishing with since daylight. This led to a violent dispute, which Captain Pearson settled by giving one of the birds—a large white albatross 10ft across the wings—to me. 'He is the only man on board who will skin it.' My wife still has it, made into a muff. This dispute was the origin of two rival factions—one headed by the passenger, the other by Mr. Eadington—that lasted the rest of the voyage. About a fortnight before we reached Auckland the feud culminated in a free fight on the poop. Some of the belligerents actually tried to fling their opponents overboard.

"On landing in Auckland, the mate and I were met by a policeman and served with warrants for assault and battery on the high seas. Mr. Eadington was bound over to keep the peace in two sureties. I was one, and my small capital was impounded by the clerk of the Court, leaving me with only a few shillings in my pocket to begin my career in a new country."

Here follow the record of passages made by the Lutterworth.

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