just as he pleased. The first thing they did before coming aboard
was to look at the name for themselves. No doubt they knew the
reputation of every pearler. Jensen did on one occasion exercise
his authority to the extent of transferring some of his own Malay
divers to another ship when we were out at sea.

At last everything was ready, and when we sailed for the pearling
grounds, our crew numbered forty-four all told, not including a
fine dog that belonged to the captain. This dog, which played so
important--nay, so vitally important--a part in my strange
afterlife, was given to Jensen at Batavia by a Captain Cadell, a
well-known Australian seaman, who had gained some notoriety by
navigating the Murray River for the first time. Cadell, who was a
great friend of Jensen, was himself a pearler. But he met with a
sad end. He was in a pearling expedition in the neighbourhood of
Thursday Island, and among his crew were some of the very
Australian Blacks who in after years proved so friendly to me.
Cadell treated these men very badly, keeping them at work long
after the time for their return home had expired, and one day they
mutinied and murdered him whilst he was asleep. The black fellow
who called himself "Captain Jack Davies," of whom I shall have more
to say hereafter, was amongst the crew at the time. I obtained
this information in Sydney from Captain Tucker, a well-known Torres
Straits pearler. Bruno, Jensen's dog, was something of a greyhound
in build, only that his hind-quarters were heavier.

As you may suppose, my knowledge of seamanship was very limited
indeed, but Jensen interested himself in me, so that I soon began
to pick up a good deal of useful knowledge. He taught me how to
take the sun, I using his old instruments; but I could never grasp