The Elk's Happy Crew.

The old sailor reverted to the comfort of the life in the old gun-brig. It was comparative comfort, of course, taking the ordinary sea life of that day as the datum-point. Everything depended on the captain in such a ship.

“We were a happy crowd,” said Capper. “You should have seen the lads laying aft for their tot of rum, the regular midday grog ration. They came slapping along on their bare feet, dancing along to the big tub with the polished brass hoops, and the fiddler playing away at a lively reel, perched up there on a gun in the waist. I tell

(Rly. Publicity photo.)
Picturesque Waiwera, a popular hot springs resort near Auckland.

you it was the real thing, that old Jamaica rum. I do believe there'd have been mutinies in some of the old ships if it hadn't been for that regular rum ration. You know, a sailor would stand a lot for his grog.

“As I told you, there was no flogging in our ship; Captain Campion detested it. He was one of those officers who were trying to rid the navy of a brutal, degrading practice. But there were some that didn't hold with him. I remember our bo's'n was so disgusted because the captain wouldn't order a flogging for a certain man he—the bo's'n—wanted punished that he laid his warrant on the quarterdeck capstan. The Captain put him under arrest for it. But discipline wasn't really any slacker because there was no flogging.”

That gun brig the Elk enjoyed a curious sort of fame in Auckland and Sydney, 1859–1860. Her figurehead was the talk of the waterfront. Never was there a ship's figurehead like it. It was the stuffed head and neck of an American elk, skin and all, mounted as for a hall. The captain was immensely proud of it. But he only used it when lying in port; it was for harbour show. He unshipped it when he went to sea and put a fiddlehead in its place. The elk-head he took into his cabin for the cruise.

“You should have seen the way,” said my old sailor, “the skipper went round the ship's bows in one of the boats every morning in port, making sure that the precious head with the big antlers was all right. He'd pull round to see that the yards were squared nicely, and everything in its place, but he gave most of his attention

Leading New Zealand Newspapers.

to the old elk. He'd be specially particular about it on Sunday mornings, because we were sure to have a lot of visitors in the afternoon, going round the ship.

“When we were lying in Sydney after that South Sea cruise, some scoundrels got up to a lark with our figurehead. Imagine the horror of the captain when he pulled round the ship, as usual, and found that a bunch of carrots had been hung just under the elk's nose! They were from another ship, of course; our own lads thought almost as much of the old fellow as the captain himself did. We had something to say about it on shore the first time we met those jokers. I tell you there was a fight or two over those carrots before we sailed from Sydney.”

That South Sea cruise under the White Ensign was one of a great many episodes of the ‘Sixties which the sturdy old sailor told in our leisurely talks. He had an uncommonly good memory for details of names, places, and conversations. After his Navy experience he joined the Waikato Militia for the Maori War, and served in the fighting from Mauku—the battle of Titi Hill—right through to Orakau. Then a turn on the West Coast goldfields, like so many old sailors, and back to the salt sea again. When he died in Wellington a few years ago, aged just over ninety, his last request was that his ashes should be scattered on the ocean he had sailed for so many years, and this filial duty his sons carried out in the waters of Cook Strait.

The changes time brings! Half-acentury ago no one with any pretensions to respectability would have dreamt of smoking in the street, and few clubs or private houses possessed smokerooms. To-day as many pipes and cigarettes are smoked out of doors as indoors, and every club and every large private residence rejoices in its smokeroom. But public taste is more fastidious than of old in the choice of tobacco, and the best brands now command the largest sale. This is especially noticeable in New Zealand where “toasted” has become so highly popular. Go where you will, you'll find the five famous toasted brands, Cut Plug No. 10 (Bullshead), Navy Cut No. 3 (Bulldog), Cavendish, Riverhead Gold and Desert Gold on sale. “Once a smoker always a smoker,” it is said, and it's no less true than once a smoker of toasted always a smoker of toasted. For there's nothing to compare with it for flavour and bouquet, also for purity and harmlessness. The toasting eliminates the nicotine! But beware of “imitation” toasted. It's no good!^*

(Courtesy, Great Western Railway.)
Building the First Locomotive.

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