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Late one evening, just as Stenhouse and his son-in-law, Adams, were smoking their last pipes before tarning in, their comrade entered the house hurriedly, accompanied by one of their native employees, who had been away on a fishing excursion. "Here's news! There's a big full-rigged ship just anchored under Cape Stephens. Masik boarded her, and had a yarn with the mate."
Adams eagerly extended his hand for a bundle of newspapers which Masik carried wrapped up in a piece of old sail-cloth. "This is a god-send," said Adams, as he opened the packet and tossed some of the papers to Stenhouse and Ford, "only about six months old. Hallo, here's the name of the ship and captain I suppose, on one of them: Roger Fullerton, Esq., Ship Ramillies " "What!"
"Where is she from?" asked Stenhouse, turning his one eye upon the native, Masik. "I know not, master. But she is a great ship with many men on board some white, and some yellow, with shaven heads. "Ah, a Calcutta-Sydney ship, most likely," said Stenhouse to his comrades. Then turning to Masik "Why came she here? Didst ask?"
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