CHAPTER I. THE VOYAGE. Ir was on a lovely morning in the early part of June, 1851, that the good ship "Canterbury" was signalled to take her departure from the East India Docks on her voyage to New Zealand. An emigrant ship on the eve of her departure presents an extraordinary spectacle to the inexperienced eye. The noise, confusion, and bustle on board,—the busy hammering of the carpenters finishing the different cabins,—the gangs of "lumpers" hoisting in the huge casks and packing-cases, and stowing them in the ample hold, the constant arrival of the different classes of passengers, anxiously watching the descent of their little property down the gaping hatchway, or turning to B console some weeping wife or mother, quitting, perhaps for ever, her much-loved home, or gazing with eyes of wonder upon the busy scene bewilder the novice as he first sets foot upon the deck. The state of the "tween - are decks," also, as it is termed, is little different. The chief cabins are crowded with confused heaps of furniture, which the owners endeavouring to arrange and reduce to order, -servants are running hither and thither, and in their embarrassment hindering rather than assisting their masters, outfitters are looking for their customers, with articles forgotten or not ordered until the last moment; whilst the half-distracted passengers are almost ludicrously endeavouring in the midst of the unaccustomed tumult, to get their furniture and luggage securely stowed in their little cabins, as though in anticipation of the immediate presence of the dreaded sea-sickness. To the inexperienced eye there seemed but little chance of getting clear of the dock by the appointed time. Despite, however, of the tumult and confusion the ship moved from her station to Gravesend, and on the Sunday afternoon was beating down the Channel, |