Chap. XL A WHALER'S HOUSE— CLEANLINESS, 331 
A large deal table and two long benches stand in the 
middle of the hard earthen floor. The rafters support 
spare coils of rope, oars, masts and sails, lances, spades 
and harpoons, and a tin oil-lamp carefully burnished. 
Two square holes in the wall serve as windows, with 
wooden shutters for the night. The harness-cask (for 
salt meat), flour-keg, and water-butt, stand on one side, 
and a neat dresser, shining with bright tin dishes and 
a few glasses and articles of crockery, on the other 
side of the door. On the threshold an old mongrel 
pig-dog, scarred all over the head and neck by repeated 
battles, lies repelling the advances of a tame sow, and 
those of some begging natives, who have an equal 
desire to be allowed the opportunity of picking up any- 
thing which may have been left about inside. Two 
or three of the Maori are asleep, rolled in their 
blankets against the sunny wall ; and a few half-caste 
children are playing with the goats or hallooing at the 
fowls and pigeons on the oily beach before the house. 
The great cleanliness and neatness which prevail 
in the house, and in the dress of the native women 
and their children, reminds one of a Dutch coaster ; 
this is evidently a point on which the whaler is ex- 
ceedingly particular. 
Should a vessel heave in sight, boats will pull out 
a long distance to meet her, and pilot her in. This 
arises partly from a wish to hear news, and partly 
from the proverbial readiness of the sailor to assist his 
fellow. When the Tory was lying at Kapiti in Oc- 
tober 1839, a brig was seen to the southward, making 
vain attempts to reach the anchorage against a strong 
north-west gale. Ignorant of the locality, and weak- 
handed, the captain was exposing himself to the un- 
favourable tide, and losing ground. Tommy Evans, 
the " old man" who headed the principal station. 
