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.
SATURDAY, MARCH 1.—On the lower deck this morning there was a Pillow
Fight, arranged by the Sports Committee. A spar, or smooth pole, was
fixed about six feet from the deck. Beneath the spar was arranged a net
made of heavy sail-cloth. Two men climbed out on the pole, and fought
with pillows, the aim of each man being to knock his opponent off. The
participants were not permitted to hold to the pole with their hands,
and they fell off very easily. This was the only really amusing thing
arranged by the Sports Committee at many meetings announced by the
disagreeable beating of a gong. The passengers witnessed the pillow
fights from the deck above, and screamed with laughter. The sea was
rough, and every player got one or more tumbles into the net....
Soon after the pillow fight, I got even with members of the Sports
Committee. They were standing on the weather side of the lower deck,
displaying their usual gravity in superintending a foolish game, when
a big wave came over the side and soaked them all. This was even
funnier than the pillow fight, and the passengers enjoyed it quite
as much.... The storm which began with rain yesterday morning,
increased in violence as the day wore on, and it was soon necessary
to suspend the sports. By noon, the sea was much rougher than it has
been at any time since we left Adelaide on the 12th of last month. The
passengers dreaded to go to their rooms, as all portholes were closed;
so the stewards found it necessary to distribute the little tin affairs
which add to the discomfort of a sea voyage.... Throughout the day I
did not feel the slightest discomfort because of the terrific motion,
and for the first time witnessed a storm at sea from the deck of a
ship. On a quiet day the sea is very uninteresting, but on a rough day
it is wonderful; the waves seem to fight each other and the ship. Ten
or twelve of the passengers had gone to the upper deck to finish some
foolish deck game, when a wave swept over them. The ship reeled from
the blow, and we saw the water pouring in torrents from the roof of
the deck where we sat. Then down the stairway came not only a flood of
water, but the soaked passengers who had been playing the foolish game.
They were as wet as though they had been in swimming without removing
their clothing. The same wave poured water into the skylight over the
dining-room, and flooded everything. After that, passengers were not
permitted on the storm side of either deck.... Late in the afternoon
I went to my room to take a nap. In order to get about the ship, it
was necessary to catch a quiet moment, and then take a run. I soon
went to sleep after reaching my room, but was awakened by a tremendous
rattle and bang in the bar, next door. A big roll had sent most of the
glassware crashing to the floor, and Mr. Riley will be compelled to
drink out of bottles. It was a great comfort to me to get even with
the barroom.... The stewards say the approach to the coast of
South Africa is always rough. The passengers are saying that the storm
will be very much worse during the night; that a sailor told them so,
but the chief engineer told me that a wireless message announces that
the weather at Durban is calm, and that we shall certainly run out of
the storm during the night.... At dinner, not half the passengers
were in their places, but Adelaide and I occupied our usual seats at
table, although we had a difficult time getting down the two stairways
to the dining-room. The dishes were fenced up, so that they could not
roll off the tables, and the portholes were under water at every roll
of the ship. The sick man who has been seen on deck nearly every day
of the voyage, surprised us all by appearing at dinner for the first
time, although he was almost literally carried down the stairways,
and across the dining-room floor. The diners at the two centre tables
were forced to go to other tables, owing to a crash in the skylight
above, and a downpour of water. But in spite of all this confusion,
Mr. Connell, a very calm and well-informed man who sits at my table,
interested me by telling of something he had read during the day. At
the battle of Waterloo, in 1812, less than 170,000 men were engaged.
The battle lasted twelve hours, yet the casualties amounted to 61,000.
The battle of Lule-Burgas, fought between the Bulgarians and Turks in
1912, lasted five days, and, although 300,000 men took part with modern
implements of war, the casualties amounted to only 35,000. We moderns
have more effective weapons than the ancients, but seem afraid to use
them. The modern man has more sense than bravery. The old savage man
had a fool notion that it was bravery to fight for a ruler, but modern
man has discovered that bravery is to fight for himself, and meet his
ordinary difficulties with patience and fairness. The prizefighter is
brave in that he is able to stand a great deal of punishment, but in
private life he is not very nice, and often keeps a saloon and whips
his wife.... At dinner, Mr. Connell also told me that in Australia,
where the women have full suffrage, the wives of the workingmen often
vote against their husbands. In a certain election of 1911, the Labor
party demanded the adoption of a measure that would result in many
strikes and much disturbance. It was believed that the measure would
carry by a large majority, but the wives of the labor men generally
voted for peace, and the measure demanded by their husbands was
defeated by two to one.
[Illustration: A Caravan at rest
A Native Sledge
Cultivating Land, Egypt
Mohammedan Procession
Natives and Hut]