TO AMERICA AS AN IMMIGRANT
THE company's coal steamer brought me safely to Tromso. What a
wonderful transformation had taken place during my two months' absence.
Tromso had discarded her dreary winter garments and was now arrayed
in a mantle of summer gladness. Her gentle slopes were covered with
green grass and myriads of little wild flowers literally danced as they
thrust their tiny faces towards the deep blue sky. Trees were in leaf,
the air was crisp and clear and birds were singing. The atmosphere rang
with the joy of summer time and the snow-bound village of the winter
was a glorious symphony of beauty and happiness. I wanted to remain
there the rest of my life.
But I was now homeward bound. My whole object was to reach Toronto,
where I was to meet my father, by the quickest and cheapest route.
It was my plan to go by train through Sweden to Stockholm. My steamer
for Narvik, the beginning of the railroad, did not leave for a day,
during which I remained in Tromso. That evening I spent with several
of my Norwegian friends at the Grand Hotel eating, drinking and making
merry. In the midst of our good time, about ten o'clock, one of the
bell boys presented me with a note. This little communication was from
one of Norway's many Mr. Ole Olesens. This particular Ole Olesen was
one of Tromso's butchers, from whom the company had purchased most of
the meat for the mine. He was showing me a courtesy by asking me to go
fishing with him about midnight. To engage in such a pastime at such an
hour struck me as an odd thing to do. With the assistance of one of my
native friends I wrote Mr. Olesen a cordial note--declining.
Anyway, I had another engagement for the rest of the evening. I called
on the wife of a Norwegian army captain and a woman companion of hers.
Her husband was in Christiania, two thousands miles away. On a previous
occasion the captain's wife had told me through an interpreter that I
was the finest man she ever knew. This sort of flummery was new stuff
to me. Making love through an interpreter is a very unsatisfactory
process, even if it is to another man's wife.
Whatever admiration this woman may have had for me was completely
dispelled, I thought, by the displeasure she manifested on the occasion
of this call. I had some difficulty in ascertaining what her grievance
was, but finally learned that she was provoked at the method I had
pursued in entering her house. I couldn't find the gate in front of
her residence, so I climbed over the fence. My object was to get in
and I had no time to spend searching for gates if such entrances were
not in the places they should be. To climb over a fence at eleven
o'clock at night in the light of the midnight sun was a fearful breach
of Norwegian good form. What would the neighbours say to see a man
entering her house in this strange manner at such an hour, when her
husband was away? I left her house, disgraced.
I was on board the steamer for Narvik. The boat was swinging away from
the Tromso pier. My displeased friend of the night before came running
down the street to bid me farewell. By the time she reached the wharf I
was beyond speaking distance--my boat was out in the stream. We could
do nothing but wave handkerchiefs. I waved until my arms were tired and
the lady was out of sight. I borrowed a pair of field glasses, and as
long as I could see the poor woman continued waving. She may be waving
yet. She had forgiven me for the fence episode. Hers was the first
broken heart I had left behind me on the whole trip.
A dreary journey in a third-class compartment of a Swedish train
brought me from Narvik to Stockholm. I saw this beautiful city
as a real tourist. I was a comparatively rich man with the money
I had earned in Tromso and Spitzbergen, and I lavished it rather
extravagantly in an effort to crowd the interesting points of Stockholm
into a short time.
[Illustration: _Upper_: THE _Munroe_ ALONGSIDE THE ICE--60 MILES FROM
LAND]
[Illustration: _Lower_: LONGYEAR CITY, SPITZENBERGEN--700 MILES FROM
THE NORTH POLE]
I sailed from Gottenborg for Hull as an honest passenger of the
steerage. My fellow travellers were Swedish, Danish and Norwegian
immigrants bound for America. Being the only member of the steerage
without a through ticket to New York, I was called before the captain
of the ship, the second day out, for a cross-examination. He asked
me several personal questions. I feigned that I was not used to such
humiliation, and the generous-looking skipper said that he would leave
my case to the English authorities.
When the ship docked at Hull, the cattle of the steerage were
instructed to congregate in the mess-room for inspection. Presently
a group of five British immigration officials entered the room. They
were all dressed in blue uniforms with brass buttons, and these brass
buttons seemed the biggest thing about them to me.
"Where is the tramp from Sweden?" gruffly asked one of them, directing
his question to the captain of the ship.
"I presume I am the man for whom you are looking," I volunteered in as
excellent English as I could command. I was standing beside the officer
and he seemed somewhat perplexed when a response to his question came
in the words of his own language from an unshaved tramp. The Swedish
authorities had cabled to the immigration headquarters at Hull that I
was on the boat, and I was thus assured of a reception.
"Are you a Swede?" was the officer's next question as he turned his
eyes on me.
"Do I look like one?" was my flippant reply.
"What nationality are you, then?" he enquired sternly.
"I am an American."
"Where are you going?"
"I am going to America as fast as I can get there."
"How much money have you in your possession?"
"I have enough."
"I want to know the actual amount," said the officer impatiently.
"About sixty pounds."
The officer conducted me into an adjoining cabin and there I had to dig
into my pockets, pull out my money (which I had converted into English
coin in Stockholm) and prove to his satisfaction that I had some real
wealth in my possession.
"I think this thing has gone about far enough," I said. "I am not a
pauper and am well able to take care of myself. There is no need to
suspect that I will become a public charge. This sixty pounds is as
much as any one of you makes in a whole year. I realise that you are
simply carrying out the immigration regulations and doing your duty,
but why can't you exercise a little discretion and let a man, who is
well able to take care of himself, go on his way without all this
nonsense?" This complaint of mine seemed to bring the Britisher to his
senses and with a few remarks in conclusion I was allowed to land; not,
however, until I had promised to go directly across to Liverpool and
take the first steamer for America.
In five minutes I was going towards London at sixty miles an hour. The
first boat from Liverpool to Quebec did not leave for a couple of days,
and I decided to spend this time in the metropolis in spite of the
instructions of the immigration officials.
Nearly three years of travel had reduced my wardrobe to a shabby
lot of garments, and I was afraid of being arrested for vagrancy. I
wandered into a men's furnishing store on Holborn Street and purchased
a complete new outfit, including a Scotch tweed suit and two English
caps. I was now equipped to travel to California with my father
properly dressed.
That evening I put on all my new clothes, hopped into a taxicab and
was off to make a call. I alighted at Fulham Palace and presented
to the servant at the door a card of introduction to the Bishop of
London, which I had received from the chaplain of the British legation
in Peking. In a minute the servant informed me that Bishop Ingram was
absent from the city and was not expected for two weeks. I was sorry. I
wished to end up by interviewing a Lord Bishop.
I cabled my father in California that I would meet him in Toronto on
August 17th, and left from Paddington station for Liverpool. I bought a
through ticket from London to Liverpool by rail, thence to Quebec by
steamer and finally to Toronto on a colonial train--all for six pounds.
At Liverpool I boarded the _Tunisian_ of the Allan line and in a few
minutes was lost in the hold of the ship among the two thousand English
and Irish emigrants. My three cabin-mates were East End cockneys and
they might as well have been Comanche Indians--for I was unable to
understand their peculiar twang for a couple of days. The food was a
substantial sort of stuff but was served as though the eaters were
animals. And, as a matter of fact, the eaters were quite capable of
playing the rôle of any trough-fed beast. "Pass the bloody jam" and
"shoot the bleeding bread" were the customary phrases employed in
asking for food. Profane and obscene expressions, which are not fit
for print, although considered proper for the ears of the women of the
steerage, were used at the table as so many platitudes. Seamstresses,
Irish mill hands, English servants, cobblers, mechanics, barbers and an
endless assortment of skilled and unskilled labourers of Great Britain
were on their way to Canada to begin life over again.
After the first two days of sea-sickness were over, the fun on board
ship began. Restraint and feminine modesty were cast to the winds,
and the man who wasn't good enough to get a lover wasn't worth taking
along. The women "fell" for anybody. "Down the bloody hatches" and on
the "bleeding deck" and in every nook and corner were lovers. It was
probably the most brazen exhibition of spooning I ever saw. It was a
case of wrestle and osculate from morning until night regardless of how
many curious and amused spectators were in the audience. The jesting
and jeering of the onlookers seemed to act only as an incentive to the
love-sick sea-farers, who were bent on having a big fling now that they
were free from the restraint of home surroundings.
I spent most of the time as a spectator, frequently engaging in
conversation with my fellow passengers to learn their ideas of this
world and the next. I occasionally dropped into the first-class kitchen
and made a friend of the chief cook, a good man to know when travelling
steerage and living on its dessertless menu. I soon was the daily
recipient of hand-outs and I very gratefully devoured the samples
of cake, pudding and tarts which were prepared for the first-class
passengers of the ship.
The _Tunisian's_ schedule from Liverpool to Quebec was nine days but,
owing to the dense fogs, we were compelled to anchor for three days
off the Newfoundland coast to avoid any chance of colliding with an
iceberg. When the fog lifted there was no end of these huge monsters
of ice in our immediate vicinity. On one side of the ship I counted
sixty-five icebergs, and there were as many on the other side.
The twelfth day we pulled into Quebec and the two thousand steerage
passengers were quartered in the immigration sheds awaiting inspection
by the Canadian officials. I again encountered difficulty in proving
that I was not a Norwegian cut-throat or a Swedish crook but finally
obtained my inspection card which permitted me to go on my way.
I took a colonist train to Toronto, where I met my father, who had
come from California to meet me. He had wished me Godspeed three years
before from San Francisco, and he was now to cross the continent with
me and help me complete the circuit. Our meeting was a joyful one. He
didn't shy at my travel-worn appearance. I was dressed in an old suit
which was spotted and covered with dust; I had a two-weeks' growth on
my face and I needed a hair-cut and a bath. While my father waited in
the station I sought the first barber shop I could find, and after an
hour of cleansing at an expense of $1.55, I was ready to travel with
civilised people.
Toronto was my native city and I had not visited it since I was an
infant. My father and I, therefore, spent several weeks looking up
friends and relatives before starting west. _En route_ to St. Louis,
I took leave of my dad, and went to visit Richardson at his home in
Fairmont, Minnesota. He had returned to America four months before and
we had not seen one another for nearly nine months--since we separated
in Constantinople.
During my two days' visit we each outlined where we had been since
parting and related to one another our different experiences.
Richardson remained in Constantinople two months holding down his job
of electric wiring for Roberts College. In that time he made many trips
about Constantinople and its environs and became very familiar with the
Turkish capital. He made a journey into the country districts and got a
glimpse of village life in Turkey.
His course through Europe was somewhat similar to mine and included
Greece, Italy, Switzerland, Germany, France, England and Scotland.
He did not visit Austria-Hungary but spent several weeks in Germany,
stopping at Munich, Nürnberg, Dresden, Leipsic and Berlin. From London
he took a trip to Edinburgh, returning to Liverpool whence he crossed
the Atlantic steerage to Boston. He arrived in America without a cent.
Fortunately there was a letter for him at Thomas Cook and Son's office
from his mother, in which was enclosed a money order for twenty-four
dollars with which to buy tableclothes. He cashed the order and with
the money bought a cheap ticket to Fairmont. Again broke, he arrived
home after being away two years and eight months. At the time of my
visit he had a position with the New York Life Insurance Company.
I joined my father in St. Louis, where I spent three days visiting a
married sister, and we then continued our journey to California. My
return to San Francisco was the occasion of the following article in
the _Examiner_:
U. OF C. STUDENT GIRDLES GLOBE ON $3.85
Alfred C.B. Fletcher Travels Three Years as Teacher, Sailor and
Adventurer
"Three years of adventure and 30,000 miles of travel through the
seven seas ended yesterday when Alfred C.B. Fletcher, university
graduate, journalist, school teacher, Government official, sailor and
miner, returned to California with a Kiplingesque stock of personal
experiences and jingling a silver surplus over the $3.85 with which
he left San Francisco.
Fletcher was arrested as a spy in Japan, battled with pirates on
a Chinese junk in the Chinese sea, visited Bethlehem on Christmas
Day, attended the Durbar in India, toiled in a mine of Norway and
has returned from the rough and tumble of world adventure to study
theology for Orders in the Episcopal Church.
LEADER IN UNIVERSITY
In 1907 Fletcher graduated from the University of California, where
he was a leading figure on the campus. He was editor of the _Daily
Californian_, prominent in other affairs, and a member of the
Golden Bear and Winged Helmet honour societies and the Psi Upsilon
fraternity.
[Illustration: NORWEGIAN WIRELESS STATION IN ICE FJORD]
Three years ago he decided to take a graduate course in the school of
hard knocks and see the world on his nerve and native hardihood. He
bought a steamer ticket to Honolulu and waved good-bye to his friends
at the pier with a promise that he would not return until he had
swung around the belt of the Globe.
At Honolulu he halted for lack of funds to get him further
transportation and entered the business of school teaching. Between
school periods he took examinations for work as a Government official
on the Pearl Harbour project, more from curiosity than a desire to
quit school teaching. His examination marks were high and he was
appointed.
TRAVELS ON EARNINGS
Several months of Pearl Harbour work got him money enough to go on,
and he travelled for several months on the earnings. On this leg of
the journey he was accompanied by a young Dartmouth graduate whose
method of travel was akin to his own.
While in Japan they snapshotted pictures of Japanese fortifications
and were arrested and thrown into prison. The services of the
Secretary of State were secured before the two young college
travellers were liberated. For the rest of their visit in Japan they
were shadowed by agents of the Japanese Government, and they found
the pursuit so uncomfortable that they shortened their stay.
In China Fletcher became instructor in a Peking school of
engineering. He travelled leisurely down the coast to Hongkong,
making inland trips and long stays in all the great ports of China.
By the time he reached Hongkong his finances were low and a trip
across the China sea to Manila was made in a junk. On the voyage a
typhoon struck the rickety craft, and the Chinese, believing they
were lost, flocked around the images of their gods with shrieks of
terror. Fletcher rushed to the deck, saw the danger to the unmanned
ship, and compelled the Oriental sailors to return to their posts.
MORAL FORCE NECESSARY
For several months he remained in Manila, serving most of the time
as an official of the Territorial Government in its department of
education. From there he journeyed on to India and witnessed the
Durbar spectacle.
His travel was broken by spells of work on land. Frequently he signed
on steamers as sailor or deckhand. A long stay was made in Palestine.
From the eastern Mediterranean he went up into France and England
and, for the first time in years, looked into familiar faces. Many
of his former college friends were travelling in Paris, London and
studying at Oxford.
The experience in Europe took his last cent and he worked his way to
Spitzbergen, Norway, where a friend of college days is superintendent
of a mine. There he spent several months and gathered sufficient
funds to insure his return to California.
Fletcher is visiting his brother, John D. Fletcher, at 2320 Le Conte
Street, Berkeley. For a few days he will renew old associations
around the university and after a visit to his home at Covina in the
southern part of the state he will leave for New York to enter a
theological seminary."
Three days in the vicinity of San Francisco, and I went to my home
in Southern California. When in Toronto I had bought a ticket to Los
Angeles and return, for I had planned to go to New York City to enter
a theological seminary. I might state parenthetically that after six
months of study for the ministry, I came to the conclusion I was in
the wrong pew and gave it up. The change from a tramp to an embryo
parson was too sudden, I suppose. The price of the round-trip ticket
from Toronto and my expenses to California had taken the last of my
Norwegian earnings and I arrived home broke. I had been away three
years, had circled the globe and had travelled over sixty thousand
miles.
THE END