WHEN the time drew near for my retirement, we packed up those of our belongings that we intended to take with us, and my wife sailed for England in April via Canada and New York. We had a large cruiser in course of construction, which I was anxious that she should christen. It was ready for launching on the afternoon of the day she was leaving, and as there would not have been time for her to reach the tender conveying passengers to her steamer after the christening ceremony, I obtained the use of a tug.

She launched the cruiser and christened her Haihsing, and even made a speech, while the large company who attended the launching sat down to a light meal and champagne. My wife received a handsome diamond brooch, and a beautiful bunch of flowers. I then hurried off to the tug, which was waiting nearby, and took her to the Empress of Australia, accompanied by some friends who went to see her off. She was very sad at leaving Shanghai, where she had spent so many happy years.



I was in the midst of my preparatory work before handing over charge to my successor, Captain Hillman, R.N., when, six weeks before that time, I found it best to go to Chung King and report on the matters personally to the Inspector-General at Peking. I left Shanghai for Nanking, where I had the luck to find a steamer bound for Hankow. Here again I was fortunate, in spite of the lowness of the water, in finding a vessel on the point of leaving for Ichang, which was the next stop.

On arriving there I was told that all the Upper Yangtze steamers were stuck up river by the lowness of the water. Soon afterwards a steamer turned up which left next day, and we were able to scrape over the shallows. As it did not take me long to complete my work, I was able to return to Ichang the next day, where I caught another steamer bound for Hankow, and then boarded the express train for Peking from Hankow.

I spent some three days at Peking, returning to Shanghai by rail, and had plenty of time left to complete my work and hand over charge of the office on the 14th of July, 1924. That afternoon Captain Hillman, my successor, took me to our commodious drawing office, where our chart work was prepared by a large number of cartographers and tracers under the able supervision of Mr. Mills.

Here, after the most eloquent of valedictory speeches, by Captain Hillman on behalf of the Foreign Staff, and by a Chinese on behalf of the Chinese members of the Staff, I was presented with the following magnificent articles: —

By the Foreign Staff.
I.
A carved blackwood table with satinwood top panels.

II.
A wonderfully carved blackwood screen, with beautifully painted porcelain panels framed in blackwood. It dates from the Tao Kuang Dynasty A.D. 1821-1850.

III.
A beautiful bronze figure from the Ming Dynasty A.D. 1368-1643. It is of Leu Tung- Pin or Li Chung Yan, who was one of the Eight Immortals, and was born in A.D. 755.

Whilst a magistrate of the district of Teh-hwa, he is said to have encountered Han Chung-li among the recesses of the Lu Shan, from whom he learned the mysteries of alchemy and of the Elixir of Immortality. He was exposed to a series of temptations, ten in number, and having overcome them was invested with a sword of supernatural power, with which he traversed the empire, slaying dragons and ridding the earth of divers kinds of evil for upwards of four hundred years. His emblem is the sword, which is generally shown as slung across his back.

By the Chinese Staff.

A pair of beautifully embroidered yellow silk curtains, on the front of which are represented flowers, trees and flamingos, while on the white satin back the Chinese names of all those who had made the presentation, and the valedictory speech, are embroidered in Chinese characters.

It must have taken years to complete all that beautiful embroidery.

I travelled from Shanghai to Tilbury by steamer, feeling as if everything worth while had come to an end; but here I am, scribbling the last lines of my record over eleven years later; and I can only hope that this story has been as interesting to my readers as living through it all has been to me.

Do not think me helpless because my sight has failed me, for such is not the case. To prove this to you, I must tell you that I am now seventy-two years old, with enough sand left in my hour glass to enable me, in spite of my feeble sight, to do such useful jobs as building a garage, a large concrete incinerator, a wash-house for a washing machine, and fences; besides cutting down tall trees and topping them in sections from ladders made by myself. I am looked upon as a handy person by my friends, even though I have to be helped about in every house to which I go. After all, there is not much use in being a sailor unless one can do odd jobs like these single-handed.

I hope that my readers do not imagine that I consider myself unusually capable, for I frequently have occasion to admire work done by those who are completely blind. I like to think out the details of any piece of work I undertake, and to make it my own way; although I must admit that it usually proves rather costly in the end ! However, I have the satisfaction of knowing that it is strong and will generally outlast articles that are bought.

These last lines are written to encourage those who, like myself, have lived an active life and have travelled far, and who find on retirement that they have no way of killing time, if they cannot see well enough to play games.

I would like to add that I am still in touch with Going, my fellow apprentice who caught the Mother Carey's chicken off Cape Horn on my first voyage many years ago.

Please do not think, kind reader, that I think the foregoing record is in any way remarkable, but it has given me a great deal of pleasure and satisfaction to string together the various incidents of a happy life spent in many interesting and pleasant places.

FINIS