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Chapter XIV.
“PELORUS JACK.”
“. . . underneath the sounding wave
Where drowned Atlantis hides her head.”
We crossed to Nelson in the “Pateena,” and it was like a cruise in a very fine steam yacht.
We left Wellington at about two o’clock on a glorious afternoon and sat on deck watching the harbour unfold itself and the hills and islands change as we neared them from blue to green. When we had left the Heads some way behind we went down to afternoon tea, and on our return the “Pateena” was just entering the beautiful Queen Charlotte Sound.
We spent an hour or so at Picton, a delightful little Arcadia tucked away on the edge of the sea in among green hills, and then steamed slowly away through the silent waters of the main arm of the Sound to the open sea again.
After dinner, which was a great deal better than any of the hotel dinners and infinitely better served, we had coffee on deck with the Captain, who told us the story of the wonderful fish that lives in Pelorus Sound.
