Chapter VII: Part 7

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 19.—We are the only Americans on board the “Anchises,” although a passenger from London once met an American who lived in Connecticut. The Londoner asked me today if I knew his Connecticut friend. I was compelled to confess I did not know him, although the London man said his friend was one of the prominent men of that part of the world.... It seems we are not a musical crowd; although a concert has been announced for the night before we reach Durban, there is no one to play the piano. I suggested to a member of the Sports Committee that some of us might learn, as we would have ample time, but he did not believe my scheme practical. A man on board has a graphophone, with sixty records, and this is going a good deal. Last night he loaned the machine to his nurse girl, and she gave a concert on the lower deck for the benefit of the crew. One of the firemen plays the violin, and the laundry girls, stewardesses and nurse girls danced with members of the crew. It was a bright moonlight night, and this social event attracted more attention than anything else we have had on board. There was a euchre tournament in the smoking-room, but it did not attract as much attention as the dance. Euchre is called a “nigger’s game” here; it is said to be so simple that niggers can learn it.... Women are in the smoking-room of the “Anchises” constantly, but some captains do not allow this: they say the smoking-room is for men, and that if women are allowed in the room, some of the men will keep out.... The Eurasian on board speaks no English, and, in addition, has had toothache for more than a week. Toothache is one of the dangers of the sea. Captain Trask told me that he once suffered seven weeks with toothache, when on a sailing-ship, and was not free from pain a moment during all that time. On a sailing-ship there is no doctor; the captain doctors the sailors when they become ill, and usually he doesn’t know much about medicine.... We have had an unusually smooth sea today, but the weather has been cloudy; we have not had a clear day since leaving Adelaide, although the sun occasionally shows itself for a short time.... The English people are as crazy about cricket as Americans are about baseball. A man who attends all cricket games, and knows all the fine points, is called a “barracker.” But he does not abuse the players, as do our baseball fans; a “barracker” seems to be more of a gentleman than a “fan.”... I don’t believe I look at the sea more than once a day; usually, when I get up in the morning, I look out the window, and remark that the sea is smoother or rougher than yesterday, but that is about all. I have never seen anything beautiful or unusual at sea, except one evening when on the “Sonoma.” I was leaning over the rail forward, as the sun was setting. The rays of the setting sun were reflected in the waves rolled up by the prow of the ship; I could see all the colors of the rainbow, and the effect was very unusual and beautiful. But as a rule, the sea is never majestic, though it is frequently what the English call “nasty.”... This is our seventh day out, and we have not seen a sail or ship. One day we saw a black spot which might have been smoke from a steamer, but that is all. Even the albatross have deserted us, and we are as lonely as lonely can be. The members of the Sports Committee are working hard to Keep Something Going On, but they are not meeting with any great success. It is amusing to see them hunt up players for the different games. The head of the Sports Committee is a fine old gentleman named Irons, a friend of ours, and we find a good deal of amusement in watching him worry around like the man who proposed a picnic which isn’t going very well. We try to take the Sports Committee seriously, since the other passengers would probably think us “funny” if we did not (if they do not already entertain that suspicion), but as a matter of fact the Sports Committee is a joke to us. “Well,” one member of the committee said to me this evening, “it has been a strenuous day.” I thought it the dullest day I ever experienced anywhere. We hear this evening that our friend Mr. Irons, head of the Sports Committee, is in bed as a result of the excitement of the day, and we are laughing at him, in which his wife joins us.... It is at least clean at sea; no dust and no dirt. If it were not for the idea of it, you might wear a collar a week at sea.... Somewhere out in this wilderness there is said to be a large island where the women greatly outnumber the men; of six hundred adults, five hundred are women. I have forgotten the name of the place, but I have heard the men talk about it a good deal. On this island, the men do nothing, and the women wait upon them with great cheerfulness. A man is at liberty to have as many wives as he pleases; the men tell very amusing stories about life on the island, and usually they tell them in the presence of the women, to adorn a moral. This paradise for men is known in a general way as “The Island,” and I am of the opinion that it is an invention of some man who has dreamed of such a place, after being imposed upon a good deal by women and girls.

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 20.—In Australia, what we call a tramp is known as a “Sundowner,” because of his habit of appearing at sundown, and asking for a night’s entertainment.... The best thing we have to eat on the ship is oatmeal, which is served every morning for breakfast. I have been neglecting this nutritious and palatable food for years, having drifted off to new breakfast foods extensively advertised, but I shall drift back to the Old Reliable, as I find it surprisingly good.... Opposite me on deck today sat a woman reading an English magazine. On the front cover was an advertisement of “Black and White” whisky. The magazine was about the size of our _Ladies’ Home Journal_; imagine that fine publication with a whisky advertisement occupying two-thirds of the front cover page.... A passenger named Grice was telling this morning of an uncomfortable experience. He was riding after cattle on the plains of Australia, when his horse fell over an ant-hill. The horse broke its neck, and fell on the man in such a way as to pin him to the ground. After six or seven hours, help arrived. There was no surgeon in the district, and the man was carried to Melbourne, 180 miles. Here he was operated on seven times, and is just out of the hospital, where he spent eight months. He is on his way to Mombasa, in Africa, to hunt. When surgeons and hospitals are mentioned, I find that the Mayos, of Rochester, Minnesota, are known everywhere.... I have heard that some men, when they return from a long trip abroad, are very conceited about it, and talk too much of their experiences. In case I am so fortunate as to return from this trip, I shall be very modest, and greatly admire those who had sense enough to remain at home. How I admire Uncle Bruce, of Potato Hill farm, who has nothing to do this winter except haul manure from town for his next year’s crop! What good things he has to eat down at the farm-house! And what an appetite he has! I wish I could change places with him. For dinner today we had venison and pheasant, but they tasted like leather. Game kept a long time isn’t fit to eat.... Last night there was a dance on deck, and members of the Sports Committee were indignant because of the small attendance. “We have worked hard to provide amusement,” they said, “and almost no one is dancing.” It has probably never occurred to the members of the Sports Committee that they are a nuisance rather than a blessing. It would be very much pleasanter on board if a Gay Time had never been thought of. I do not care to dance; nor do I care to have members of the Sports Committee urge me to dance. If I care to play quoits, or any other of the deck games, I do not need a Sports Committee to urge me. The members of the Sports Committee think it an outrage that Adelaide does not dance, and look at me reproachfully. I tell them I had nothing to do with it; that her parents are church members, and do not believe in dancing. This also greatly astonishes them. It wouldn’t surprise me if the members of the Sports Committee did not finally get into trouble with some of the other passengers who want to be let alone. I hear a good deal of grumbling in the smoking-room from men who are being constantly urged to dance, take part in the concert, play skittles, or quoits, or deck billiards, or sea croquet. The members of the Sports Committee remind me of five or six men who decide that a town needs another lodge, and bore all the other citizens to join. Wherever you go, on land or sea, you find impudent men who urge others to do things there is no necessity for doing. Our pastor, the tall clergyman heretofore mentioned, is far more considerate of us than members of the Sports Committee. Sunday morning he sends a steward about the deck tolling a gong, to give notice that religious services will shortly be held in the music-room; but those who do not care to attend are not reprimanded by the holy man for absence. I thoroughly dislike a man who is forever protesting because others do not accept his notions, or admire whatever he happens to admire. Always remember that what you regard as the greatest thing in the world may be regarded as the most useless by many worthy and intelligent people.

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 21.—On this ship are eighteen thousand frozen sheep carcasses, en route from Australia to London. In order to keep this meat properly, great refrigerators are necessary. This frozen-meat trade is the source of Australia’s prosperity; before it was inaugurated, Australian sheep were not worth much except for their wool and tallow; old-timers in Australia remember when a sheep carcass might be bought for a shilling. This frozen-meat trade is also carried on between South America and England, and the result is that the English have cheap meat. The people of the United States might have cheap meat, also, were it not for the tariff. Our admiration for the farmer is so great that we pay a third or half more for meat than is necessary, in order that the farmer may receive high prices for his live-stock. When an American goes to a meat market, would he cheerfully pay thirty cents instead of twenty for a piece of meat were it not for his Statesmen? I have always doubted that the people see the advantage of a high tariff; it is the Statesmen who are able to figure it out.... The men who thought of the frozen-meat scheme did a lot for humanity, but probably no one knows who they are; hundreds of men had a little to do with it.... The captain says a ship loaded with frozen meat arrives in England from Australia or South America every day of the year.... The “Anchises,” on its last voyage out to Australia, was in a great storm in the Bay of Biscay, and the ship’s doctor was seasick four days. “Tell me,” I said to the doctor today, “how a big storm at sea looks.” “Blessed if I know,” he replied; “I was sick in bed; I didn’t see anything of it.”... My dining-room steward says the captain is always sick for a day or two after leaving port, but the other ship employees deny this. They say that on leaving port the captain has his meals served in his room, which is near the bridge, and thus the story of seasickness started.... We have had a bad sea all day, with drizzling rain. Not many are sick, owing to the ship’s unusual steadiness. It rolls and pitches, but gently, and I wonder the “Anchises” is not famous the world over for its unusual sea-going qualities. Some ships cut up at sea, however carefully they were built, while occasionally one will prove unusually steady. The “Maunganui” was a big ship, and very handsome, but it had a certain little movement of its own that was atrocious. While lying in my bed, the ship came up under me in such a way as to make me feel as though I were hanging on a clothesline, with the back of my head dangling against my heels.... The English have many customs and pronunciations I do not understand. How much do you suppose a hundredweight is in England? Not a hundred pounds, but a hundred and twelve pounds. A ton, consequently, is not 2,000 pounds, but 2,240 pounds; and this system bothers every country with which England does business. The English also use the term guinea in reckoning money, although there is no such coin, nor is English paper money issued in guineas. A guinea is as much more than $5 as a pound is less. If the people of the United States should invent a slang term meaning $1.03, and occasionally use it in reckoning money, instead of the dollar, it would be about the same thing as the English custom of occasionally dragging out the word guinea, and using it, to confuse strangers.... Some Americans say, “Don’t you know?” in conversation, and it is a very bad habit, since the term is meaningless, and soon gets on the nerves of the listener. The English make fun of the expression, and represent all Americans as saying “Don’t you know?” It is a fact that too many of them do. But Australians add, “You see” to their statements a great deal. I believe a majority of the Australians say “Yis,” instead of “Yes,” and they have many other oddities of speech which grate on the nerves of Americans, who believe in pure as well as free speech.... On a rough night, the squeaks in a ship sleeping-room are worth mentioning. Last night as I lay in bed, I made note of the squeaks, and could distinctly count four different ones: two for each pitch, and two for each roll. When the weather is fine, there is no strain on the ship, and the squeaks disappear.... This morning at 10 o’clock the captain made a calculation, and said the time in Atchison was 10 P. M. Thursday night. He showed me how he figured it. Atchison is in 96 degrees longitude; therefore it is six hours and twenty-four minutes _behind_ Greenwich time. The ship today is in 80 degrees longitude, and therefore five hours and twenty minutes _ahead_ of Greenwich. To be exact, the difference in time between Atchison and the position of the ship today is eleven hours and forty-four minutes.... The lady who has five children and two nurses on board says that babies should be made to mind when six months old. I told her that in America we did not begin spanking that young; that our rule was to spank girl babies at eight months, and boy babies at one year.... Which recalls the fact that I have lately been reading R. A. Wallace’s “Malay Archipelago.” Wallace spent several years in that section in hunting the orang-utan, the monkey-like animal which is most like man. One day he killed an adult female, and found that it had a baby six or seven weeks old. This he tried to raise, hoping to present it to the British Museum. He found the baby orang-utan very much like a human baby. It cried for food, or when uncomfortable, and became so badly spoilt that he was compelled to spank it when it became four or five months old. Unfortunately the little orang-utan contracted an illness about this time, and all Professor Wallace could do was not sufficient to save its life.

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 22.—A howling gale has been raging all day. On the upper deck this afternoon, many of the passengers were soaked by a wave which came aboard. The wind is following us, and pushing the ship along; the sailors say that a head-wind would have resulted in as bad a day as is usually seen at sea. The decks are slippery, and those who go out are in constant danger of being soaked with spray. For a wonder, I am not seasick, and spent my time talking with passengers who have visited strange places. One man lived for a time in one of the remote islands of the Malay archipelago, where the natives wear very little clothing, and he says the men have the handsomest figures he has ever seen; that the marble figures in art galleries do not equal living examples in Borneo. The figures of the men are much superior to the figures of the women. Occasionally a very young girl will have a good figure, but never equal to a boy of the same age; men of thirty have splendid figures, whereas women of that age have no figures at all.... A bird known as the hornbill is found in Borneo. When the female has laid a sufficient number of eggs, the male seals her up in the nest, which is in a hollow tree, and compels her to sit until germination takes place. While the female is a prisoner, the male feeds her faithfully. Another bird deposits its eggs in a pile, covers them over with sand, and leaves hatching to the sun. A half-dozen hens will place their eggs in the same pile. When the eggs are hatched, the young are immediately able to look after themselves.... In some of the islands of the archipelago there are no judges, courts, or policemen, yet the natives are well behaved, and crime is almost unknown. This, my informant says, is probably the natural state of man; wherever crime is rampant among savages, it has usually been introduced by members of civilized races. In a state of nature, a man soon learns that if he expects his rights, he must respect the rights of others; therefore if he desires peaceable possession of his house, or his cattle, or his wives, he must respect the property rights of others. Crime seems to be the product of civilization, and not of savagery.... Captain Warrall says there is nothing in the story that he becomes seasick every time he leaves port. But he says it is a fact that when he goes to sea after a long stay on land, he suffers with a headache for several hours. This headache is due to the motion of the ship, and he believes most sea-going men are affected in the same way. The second engineer told me he had the same experience as the captain, and my room steward says that on leaving London or Sydney he always gets a headache, which does not entirely disappear until the second day out.... In the old days when I was a reporter on the Atchison _Globe_, I thought it a good item when I found a farmer’s boy with forty rabbits. I found a better rabbit story than that today. On this ship are one hundred and eighty thousand frozen rabbits, en route for London, every one of them trapped. Rabbits in our country are ruined by being shot; we have never learned the art of trapping them. I have been familiar with rabbits all my life, but never knew a man who could trap them. In Australia, rabbit-catching is a trade, and the rabbit-catchers have a union, which was raising quite a disturbance while I was there, by threatening a strike. The rabbits caught in Australia and shipped to England bring in a tremendous sum of money annually; I have forgotten the figures, but the total is enormous. Rabbits were imported into Australia by members of an energetic Sports Committee. In the early days certain of the citizens of Australia said: “Our people have no amusement; let us import rabbits from England, that there may be something to hunt.” So a Sports Committee was formed, and members of it held public meetings, and passed subscription papers, and abused those who did not give. As a result of it all, rabbits were imported from England, and they are now a far greater pest than English sparrows are in the United States.

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 23.—Our tall pastor conducted Holy Communion services at 7 o’clock this morning, in the music-room. There were four present: the pastor, his wife, his nurse maid, and myself. I am a very early riser, and this service was the only thing going on; besides, I nearly always sympathize with a small attendance. Our pastor carries two uniforms with him; a white one fringed with black, and another entirely of black, which he wore this morning. I am inclined to believe that he is Low Church. The most animated and vicious church row I was ever familiar with started because a certain pastor insisted on using wafers in his communion service, whereas a bossy woman in the congregation preferred bread. Bread is Low Church; wafers represent the High, I am told.... Although only three persons attended the communion service, out of a total of possibly three hundred on the ship, our pastor does not go around making sneering remarks about his efforts not being appreciated, as do members of the Sports Committee. I am inclined to believe that the tall pastor is right. The communion service was advertised by posting notice of it on the bulletin board. The passengers know about hell, and about its rewards offered by the church; the pastor is quite right in letting them alone. As old-fashioned children used to say, you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink.... We feel tonight that we are almost within sight of Durban; we are still more than two thousand miles away, but we should be there in six more days, and we shall not mind the last two or three, in making preparations to land. The sun came out this afternoon, and the sea is smoother, so that we are all feeling better.... Back of the smoking-room there is a balcony where the passengers often sit. The young engineers also come up from the deck below, and sit in the balcony at times, when off duty. I have become acquainted with a number of them, and ask them questions about the sea. They explained to me where the Pacific ocean ends, and the Indian ocean begins. The line is somewhere in the vicinity of Melbourne, so that Australia is partly in the Indian ocean and partly in the Pacific. Flowing eastward from Africa, there is a great current. After reaching the vicinity of Melbourne and Tasmania the current turns, and flows westward five or six thousand miles. The two currents are a thousand miles apart. The “Anchises” came out in the current flowing eastward, and did not stop at Durban, but, on its homeward voyage, it is in the current flowing westward. The engineers say this current probably caused the Indian ocean to be distinguished from the Pacific.... At dinner tonight, the decline of American shipping came up. “When I went to sea as a boy,” Captain Warrall said, “the American clipper ships were the pride and envy of all seamen. They could sail all around the English, and the Maine Yankees could do it today, as they have repeatedly proven in the international yacht races. I often think it is incorrect to speak of the decline of American shipping. Some of the finest ships afloat should carry the stars-and-stripes, since they are owned and controlled by American capitalists. Were it not for the American policy of protection, the seas would glisten with the stars and stripes. As a famous American says, ‘There’s a Reason’ for American cargoes being carried in foreign ships. The reason is that English seamen receive about half as much pay as your seamen receive. The fact that you Yankees do not own ships is really another of your cute tricks; you get your carrying done cheaper in another way.”... A citizen of Melbourne was at the table, and he said he saw the fleet of American warships come into that harbor a few years ago. He spoke very highly of the crews; he was on the streets of Melbourne constantly, and saw thousands of American sailors, but did not see one who was drunk or rude. It is the commonest sort of thing here to hear both English and Colonists speak in the highest possible terms of America and the American people.... I frequently hear this, too: “You Americans give tips too liberally.” So far as I am concerned, I only conform to a custom established by the English. I give because it is the custom, and give no more than seems to be necessary to prevent a riot. The English also have an exaggerated notion of tipping in America. One of them told me today that he understood that when a bell-boy took a guest to a room in an American hotel, he was impudent unless he received a dollar. Nothing in the story, of course; and many of the other stories told of Americans over here are equally untrue and absurd.... On the “Maunganui,” in which I sailed from New Zealand to Australia, there was no concert. But an active, meddlesome man could have arranged one, and organized a Sports Committee to unnecessarily bother at least three-fourths of the passengers. Behave yourself, and let others alone, is a good rule.... At 3 o’clock this afternoon a woman slipped into the music-room, and began singing, playing her own accompaniments. There is nothing quite so absurd as an amateur singer who cannot sing much, and who is quavery and uncertain. This woman was very bad, and I understand she is to appear at the Grand Concert arranged by the Sports Committee.

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 24.—There is a sick woman on board, and the other women pay her a great deal of attention. Two of them attend her constantly, in her room and on deck, and a dozen others would gladly do as much, if opportunity presented. Another woman passenger looks after the sick woman’s two children.... There is also a sick man on board. He is very ill, and I doubt if he will live to reach Liverpool. Occasionally, on fine days, a steward brings him on deck, where he looks pale and unhappy, and pants for breath, but as a rule he is confined to his stuffy room, where no one sees him except the doctor. I have never seen a sick man more completely neglected, whereas the woman passenger who is ill receives every possible attention. The women say the sick man prefers to be let alone, but I don’t believe it. The sick man is a tragedy in loneliness. He came out on the “Anchises” from London, hoping the voyage would benefit him, but it has harmed him instead.... The sky is very brilliant at night, and we see many shooting stars; and every time we see a shooting star we wish that Mr. Riley will fall overboard. Mr. Riley is indulging in a great big drunk, and I hear he has borrowed money from half the men on board, promising to pay on arrival at Durban. Mr. Riley is a very active member of the Sports Committee, and prominent in everything except the Holy Communion services held every Sunday morning. I do not believe he has heard of these, as he gambles in the smoking-room until a late hour every night, and does not get up very early. If Mr. Riley should hear of the early communion service in the music-room, he would certainly advise the tall pastor as to its ceremonies, for he offers advice in everything else. My room is near the bar, and I never go to it that I do not hear Mr. Riley calling on the barkeeper to hurry along the grog. Mr. Riley also has a very irritating laugh, and I have come to dislike him as much as a menagerie monkey dislikes a boy. Last night there was a dance held near my room, and this, in addition to Mr. Riley and the bar, kept me awake until long after midnight.... “Of course you know why the men wear colored socks,” a man said to me on deck last night. “It is because colored socks do not show dirt, and can be worn until they are filthy. I wear white socks, and probably change them oftener than any other passenger on the ship, but I think I am a marked man because of my white socks. I often catch the other passengers looking at my feet in wonder.” I asked him if he also wore a night-gown, instead of pajamas, and he said he did, whereupon we organized a club, as I also wear white socks and a night-gown. Pajamas do not seem enough of a change from pants and shirts, and I cannot sleep in them; and colored socks irritate my ankles.... On the ship, children are almost universally called kids, or kiddies, another form of bad English which Americans deplore. There are eighteen children on board, and the ship resembles a nursery. Even the stewards privately complain of the incessant racket. This morning most of the passengers shifted to the port side of the deck, but we remained on the starboard side, because all of the children went with the crowd. “You must be enjoying a quiet and pleasant day,” the deck steward said to us. A good many of the passengers had their chairs shifted back to the starboard side, and I heard them grumbling about the noise; from which I am led to believe that if the passengers spoke their minds freely, a protest would go up to the captain about Mr. Riley, the Sports Committee, and the “kiddies.”... A passenger was telling today of a man he once knew in Melbourne who took thirty drinks of whisky a day. Finally, during an illness, the doctor advised him that he must be more temperate; that twenty drinks a day were enough. The man tried twenty drinks a day, but the almost total abstinence from alcohol killed him.... A prominent citizen of Sydney, with whom I talk a great deal, says many of his fellow-citizens believe that if the government had kept out of railroad building, and left it to private enterprise, the country would have many more miles of railroad, and double its present population. Considering the resources of the country, the railroad facilities of Australia are insignificant. There are half a dozen different railroads running finer trains in little Kansas than may be seen in Australia. And both freight and passenger rates are lower in Kansas than in Australia; service is better, and the employees receive higher wages. There is something wrong with the Australian railways, and I believe it is government ownership.

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 25.—Today we had a cricket match between members of the crew and the passengers. Score, 29 to 27, in favor of the crew. The features of the game were: 1. The batting of Mr. Connell, who sits at our table; 2. The bowling (which means pitching) of Mr. Connell; 3. The bad playing of Mr. Riley, whom we hate; 4. The appearance of a Mr. May, a passenger, as a barracker for the crew. A barracker in cricket means the same thing as a fan in baseball, and Mr. May’s line of talk in making fun of the passenger players was very good. I coached him a little in baseball talk, and the mean way in which he said, “Take him out!” when a pitcher was hit freely, was quite a pleasant reminder of home.... One of the players in the ship’s team was the young man who appears when you press a button in the smoking-room; in short, he is one of two bartenders employed on the “Anchises.” This young man was a particularly good pitcher. The best batter on the ship’s team was the second officer. There is a democracy in sport which levels all rank. The game lasted nearly two hours, and I picked up a smattering of the rules. There are eleven players on a side, and each player must take his turn at batting; but the best pitchers of the team may do all the pitching. Before a batter is out, the pitcher must knock down the wicket with the ball; sometimes a batter knocks the ball about a long time before he is out. Mr. Connell, who sits at our table, made nineteen scores before they got him out, and batted three-quarters of an hour.... A good many of the passengers are mining men from South Africa. Among these is a man who was born in America, but who has lived among Englishmen so long that he cannot be distinguished from them. He married an English woman, and has three children who have a very rich brogue. The man told me today that he very naturally fell into the ways of the English within a year after going to South Africa, and that now our pronunciations amuse him as much as they amuse the English. He plays cricket, likes it better than baseball, and pitches with the peculiar twist which distinguishes the English game.... This evening I saw a man sitting on deck apparently curling his moustache. Later it developed that he was getting a string around an aching tooth; this accomplished, he pulled the tooth with a single jerk. He said to me: “In a year or two I shall have them all out, and put in a full set of good teeth.” All the people here seem to look forward to the time when they will have all their teeth out, and put in a full set of the kind supplied by dentists. One of the first things you notice here is the great number of people with full sets of false teeth. I believe I could name a dozen comparatively young women on this ship who have no teeth of their own.... We have been in the South-east trade-winds several days; the smoke from our funnels is always ahead of us. On this track the wind blows in the same direction for months at a time; there is also a current flowing with the wind. A thousand miles south of us, the current flows eastward, and the winds blow eastward as steadily as they blow westward here.... There is gossip on board to the effect that the two women passengers who have been nursing the sick woman, have quarreled. The invalid is carried on deck every fine day, and reclines on a cot, and it has been remarked that one of her volunteer nurses has disappeared; she is sulking in her room over some affront offered her by the other volunteer nurse. The passengers are much interested in the row. The nurse who is still on duty will leave the ship next Sunday, at Durban, and her rival will have a clear field during the run of nearly three weeks to Liverpool. The invalid was injured in a hunting accident; her horse fell while going over a hedge. She is a particularly nice woman, and one of the amusements on deck is to visit with her as much as the nurses will allow. And she has a baby boy called “Captain,” who is loved by everybody.... On deck this afternoon, a woman ordered her two boys to go to their room, and wash their faces. Much to my surprise, they did it. In America, when a woman tells her child to do anything, he attempts to argue her out of the notion, and usually succeeds. The children on the ship are somewhat annoying; not because they do not mind well, but because they are left to themselves. Their mothers are generally members of the Sports Committee, and their nurses are flirting with members of the crew. There is one very noisy youngster who is rapidly driving me to distraction. She has a nurse, but I have not seen the nurse all day.... The mother of a ten-year-old boy on board says he does not know anything about money; that he can’t tell a shilling from a penny. At home, a boy of that age would be packing a newspaper route, and know all about money. I particularly admired Captain Trask, of the “Sonoma,” because he told me two of his sons were carrying newspaper routes. That’s the way to bring up a boy in town; buy him a newspaper route by the time he is nine or ten years old, and let him learn who is good, and who is not.... Mr. Riley, who has not yet fallen overboard, although all of us have wished it on every shooting star since leaving Adelaide, believes he is the life of the ship, and a general favorite, although I believe I have never known anyone to be more generally disliked. He is always half-drunk, and thinks that is the proper thing on shipboard. There is a disagreeable smell about a steady drinker, and Mr. Riley has it in a very marked degree. I once heard him say to a modest, gentlemanly man with whom he was arguing: “You must confess that you admire a good fellow who spends his money more than you admire the saving, industrious man who doesn’t.”... Mr. Riley is that sort of a fool; and that sort is the very worst kind. The man Mr. Riley was arguing with made a stinging reply, but Mr. Riley is usually so drunk that he doesn’t know it when repartee goes against him.... Next to our table in the dining-room sit a father and mother and their grown son. Every morning the wife and mother gives her orders to her men-folks for the day, and points out what they did the day before that was displeasing. They talk in low tones, but we can generally hear what they say. The son seems to be the principal culprit, as he is paying attention to a certain Miss Helen the mother does not like; but the husband is well trained, for I have noticed that he takes his orders humbly.

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 26.—This evening members of the crew gave a concert on deck, for the amusement of the passengers. The concert did not begin until 9 o’clock, as most of the performers are waiters in the dining-room, and they were compelled to “do up” their work before starting.... As is common at amateur concerts, the stage was the best part of it. There were elaborate lighting effects, including footlights, and much nice furniture, and palms, had been loaned for the occasion. As usual, the disturbance was not ten feet from my door; as a matter of fact, I loaned my cabin for a dressing-room. Toward the sea, the space above the rail was covered with flags, and the result was a very elaborate little theatre. Steamerchairs were arranged in rows for the convenience of the passengers, and these chairs are much more comfortable than theatre chairs. As is customary at such events here, there was a chairman: John Adams, the chief engineer, who announced the numbers, although elaborate programmes had been printed, and sold at a shilling each. Mr. Adams sat near the stage, with a table in front of him, and on the table was a pitcher of water and a tumbler. “The first item on the programme,” Mr. Adams announced, “will be a song by W. Mansbridge, entitled ‘Captain Ginjah, O. T.’” An American would have said, “The first number on the programme,” but here they always say “The first item on the programme.”... W. Mansbridge turned out to be the steward who has charge of Adelaide’s room, and we were quite proud of his performance, as he was called back twice. The affair throughout was considerably better than the average amateur concert in a town the size of Atchison. The young man who waits on us in the dining-room appeared as a female impersonator, but was very awkward; in fact, about the worst of the lot. He thought he must “act natural,” and walk about, and all the performers had the same notion. Another of the singers was the assistant barkeeper who had distinguished himself the day before in a cricket match. But he was painfully frightened, when singing before an audience, and could not show off a voice which was really quite good. A dining-room steward named R. Morris was positively clever; if he had a little training, he could make a living as an actor-singer, as he has an excellent voice, and is young and good-looking. J. S. Tait, the purser’s clerk, appeared in a series of crayon sketches which were very good. Another clever performer was W. A. Dalton, who, I believe, is storekeeper.... At the conclusion of the entertainment, Mr. Adams, the chairman, proposed a vote of thanks to Miss Woodburn, a passenger, who had volunteered as accompanist. Thereupon the chairman of the Sports Committee made a speech, and endorsed the motion to adopt a vote of thanks to Miss Woodburn; indeed, he moved a vote of thanks not only to Miss Woodburn, but to the captain, crew, etc. At mention of his name, Captain Warrall, who had come down quietly from the upper deck, slipped out; I don’t think he cares much about mingling with the passengers. Anyhow, he acts bored when with them, and we do not see much of him. But the proposition of the chairman of the Sports Committee was adopted, and, this being accomplished, we sang “God Save the King,” and went to bed, or to the smoking-room, or to walk the decks. “God Save the King” is sung at the conclusion of every entertainment here, including dances; it is the same air as our “My Country, ’Tis of Thee.” But the words are different; the English words begin: “God save our gracious king, long live our noble king. Send him victorious, happy and glorious, long to reign over us. God save the king.” While we stole the tune from the English, they stole it from the Germans; so it is to the Germans that both Americans and English should apologize.... Mr. Riley, of course, attended the concert, and, being drunk, and knowing most of the songs on the programme, sang as loudly as the performers, very much to the disgust of the passengers. A good many have threatened to “speak” to Mr. Riley, and tell him plainly that he is a nuisance, but so far no one has done so, and he is still of the opinion that all of us will greatly miss him when he leaves the ship at Durban.... I have had neuralgia in the face several days, and the ship doctor said to me: “When a man has used tobacco many years, and quits, the effect upon his system is very great. Try smoking two strong cigars.” I had his prescription filled at the bar, and enjoyed an exquisite pleasure; cigars never tasted so good before. I hoped that I had lost my taste for them, but found I hadn’t. The men were very much amused over the doctor’s prescription. Did the cigars do the neuralgia any good? The pain stopped within five minutes after I began smoking, and has not returned since. I smoked only two, and I shall not smoke again except on the advice of a physician.

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 27.—I find that Mr. May, the fine old gentleman who was attended by so many friends when he embarked at Adelaide, is manufacturer of May’s Complete Harvester, the Australian machine which strips off the heads of wheat. This machine also threshes the wheat, or separates it from the husks, and, within an hour after cutting, the grain is ready to be sent to market. At home we cut wheat with a binder, which drops it in sheaves. These sheaves are then set up in the field to dry, and, in a few days, stacked. After the stack has gone through a sweat, a thresher is sent for, and the grain made ready for market. Some farmers thresh out of the field, within a few weeks after cutting, but old-fashioned farmers prefer stacking. The Australian way seems very much better than our way, and Mr. May says that with his machine, wheat may be harvested at an expense of only 25 cents an acre for labor. The May machine sells for from four to six hundred dollars, cuts from five to eight feet, and is drawn by from four to six horses. The machine has cut as high as thirty acres in a day, with everything running favorably, and has been in practical use in Australia for twelve years. There is waste in any method, but Mr. May says his complete harvester saves as large a per cent of the wheat as the best machine manufactured in America. He told me of a farmer with 400 acres of wheat who harvested it with the assistance of a man and a boy. It is probable that the May machine would not work satisfactorily in our section, although it might prove successful in the dry districts further west. Mr. May admits that his complete harvester is a success only when the wheat is very dry and very ripe. A little dampness would necessitate the use of the older-fashioned binder.... Mr. May says wheat-growing in Australia has been revolutionized by the discovery that the land needed phosphate. This was supplied at a cost of about $2 an acre, and the wheat yield doubled. Virgin land is now fertilized with phosphate, which is drilled in with the wheat. The discovery that the land needed additional phosphate was made by a young scientist in an agricultural college; farmers everywhere should pay more attention to the doings of agricultural colleges, horticultural societies, etc.... Another great machine invented in Australia is the jump plow. Much of the land in Australia is full of either stumps or stones. The jump plow jumps the stumps or stones by means of a clever device, the main feature of which is a hinge attachment. Most of the Australian plows are in gangs of six to twelve, all of them supplied with the jump attachment.... So far as I was able to judge from what Mr. May said, our wheat yield is one-third or one-fourth greater per acre, without fertilizer, than the wheat yield of Australia; but our land costs a third more.... In Australia, when a young woman is called upon regularly by a young man, he is known as a “follower.” In the section of country where I live, he would be called the young woman’s “steady,” or steady company.... Nine-tenths of the passengers on this ship are Australians or New Zealanders, en route to England, and most of them will return home by way of the United States, a route considerably shorter than by way of Cape Town or the Suez Canal. Most of them have interviewed me about routes, and I am now getting even with those American railroads against which I have grudges.... Today we are off the southern coast of Madagascar, but a drizzly rain is falling, and we cannot see a half-mile from the ship. At noon the distance to Durban is about the distance from New York to Chicago, which is made by railroad train in eighteen hours, but we shall not make it under three days and nights, as we steam only 330 miles a day. This is our fifteenth day at sea, without sight of land, and neither of our double engines has stopped once since they were started at Adelaide.... I believe I admire our tall pastor as much as anyone on board. He lets us all alone, and does not ask us if we read the Bible, and say our prayers. To let people alone is the most agreeable thing you can do for them.... When you send a wireless telegram at sea, you are compelled to sign the following agreement: “No company concerned in the forwarding of this telegram shall be liable for any loss, injury, or damage from non-transmission or non-delivery or neglect, in relation to this telegram, or delay, or error, or omission in the transmission thereof, through whatever cause such non-transmission, non-delivery, neglect, delay, error or omission shall have occurred. Having read the above conditions, I request that this telegram may be forwarded according to said conditions, by which I agree to be bound.”... Under that agreement, the wireless operator might tear up every telegram, and senders would have no redress. A wireless contract is as one-sided as the contract you sign when you buy a steamship ticket. When I bought two tickets for Durban from Adelaide, I was compelled to sign a contract which relinquished every right I have in law. If the captain sees fit, he may change his destination from Durban to Capetown or Montevideo, and not go to Durban at all. In case he should conclude to go to London direct, and not stop at any South-African port, I agreed to pay him the price of two tickets between Durban and London. If for any reason he finds it necessary or convenient to put into any other port, to make repairs, I agreed to pay my board while such repairs were being made. If the captain should take a dislike to me, and put me off on the coast of Madagascar, I agreed not to ask damages for the inconvenience when I purchased my tickets. Fortunately, these cutthroat contracts are almost never enforced, but they could be enforced should necessity arise.

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 28.—This has been the most miserable day I have ever spent at sea. A steady rain began falling at daylight, and continued without intermission until evening. The passengers were driven from the upper deck, and congregated on one side of the main deck, where the children made more noise than ever. The dampness was of the penetrating kind that reached our clothing and our rooms, and we could not be comfortable anywhere.... About five o’clock the rain ceased, and a boy went about beating a gong. This was notice of a meeting of the general Sports Committee in the music-room, to decide whether the fancy dress ball arranged for tonight should be given up on account of the rain. The vote was in favor of going ahead with it. The sailors at once began arranging the dry side of the deck into a ball-room, and the passengers were forced to go to their cabins, or sit in the smoking-room.... The fancy dress ball proved to be more creditable than was anticipated. Those who took part wore their costumes to dinner at 7 o’clock, and the children, nurses and stewards gathered in the main hallway to see them go in. There were about twenty-five costumes in all, nearly all of them made on board. One young woman appeared as “Topsy,” and her feet were bare. Women usually dislike to show their feet, and there was a good deal of surprise expressed because this woman appeared with nothing much on except a dress made of coarse sacking. She not only appeared barefooted in the dining-room, but danced in her bare feet. Afterwards the passengers voted on the best costume, and “Topsy” won the second prize, the first going to an English actor who appeared as Cardinal Wolsey.... Mr. Riley borrowed a greasy suit of working-clothes from a sailor, and, appearing at the dance as a Sundowner, or tramp, it became necessary to take him away.... The gents who appeared in fancy dresses talked about the ball until 1:30 A. M., as amateur actors talk about the performance, and of course this talk centered around the bar. As my room adjoins the bar, I heard the talk and the accompanying rattle of glasses. So my disagreeable day began at 5:30 A. M., and ended at 1:30 the following morning. I shall long remember February 28, 1913.