"`All's well that ends well,' as you say, sir; and I only hope we'll soon have a freight back which will recoup any loss the owners may have suffered from the mishaps of our voyage out." But, hoping for a thing, and having it, are two very different things.
It was the middle of July when we finally reached Shanghai, and it took us, with the slow way of going to work of the Chinese coolies and their comprador and the people ashore and all, a good three weeks to unload our cargo; so that, by the time we had the hold swept out and got ready below for the reception of a freight of tea promised the captain, lo and behold we found we were too late, for the consignment intended for us was now well on its way home in another vessel.

This latter, however, we were told in excuse for our disappointment, had been waiting longer for a cargo than us, having been lying in the river since May, and only starting off as we commenced discharging.
We were cheered up, though, by the hope of having a cargo of the second season tea, which the shore folk said was expected in the town from up country shortly; which "shortly" proved to be of the most elastic properties, it being September before we received authoritative information of our expected freight being at last at Shanghai and ready for shipment.
When it came, though, we did not lose much time in getting it on board and stowed, even Tom Jerrold and I working under hatches.
"Begorra, we'll show them poor craythurs," cried Tim Rooney, bracing himself up for the task and baring his sinewy arms with much gusto as he buckled to the job, setting the hands a worthy example to follow.

"Aye, we'll jist show them what we calls worruk in our counthry, me darlints.
Won't we, boys ?" "Aye, aye," roared out the men, all anxious to set sail and see Old England again; sailors being generally the most restless mortals under the sun, and never satisfied at being long in one place.

"Aye, aye, bo, we will!" And they did, too, "Old Jock" rubbing his hands and snorting and sniffing in fine glee as the tea-chests were rattled up out of the junks alongside and lowered into the hold, where they underwent even a greater amount of squeezing and jamming together than our original cargo out, the process of compression being helped on by the aid of the jack-screws and the port watch under Mr Mackay--who now superintended the stowage of the cargo, in place of poor Mr Saunders.

No one, apparently, save the faithful Tim Rooney, gave a thought to the latter, now resting in his quiet tomb in Happy Valley! "Bedad, we miss our ould sickond mate, sorr," I heard him say to Mr Mackay, who was a little strange to the job, having had nothing to do in the stowing line for some time, his duties as first mate being more connected with the navigation of the ship.