90 A YEAR WITH A WHALER 



whose trees peeped manors and villas of wealthy 

 citizens. 



We reached the long pier at last and tied up 

 the boat. While the captain went into the city 

 the sailors remained on the dock in charge of 

 Long John, the boat-steerer. Three snaky-eyed 

 Kanaka policemen in blue uniforms hung about, 

 watching our every movement. We were not 

 allowed to stir off the dock. There was a street 

 corner within a stone's throw. A little red brick 

 store stood upon it. A lazy Kanaka lounged 

 against the building, smoking a cigarette. That 

 corner fascinated me. If I only could dodge 

 around it! How near it seemed, and yet how 

 unattainable ! 



But if we sailormen could not get into town, 

 >ve at least had the freedom of the long pier. 

 This was several hundred feet long and piled 

 thick with freight of all descriptions, which shut 

 its harbor end from view. With a casual and 

 indifferent air I sauntered out along the pier. 

 In a moment I was hidden behind the merchan- 

 dise from the unsuspecting Long John and 



