my cabin window looks out on the deck where the steerage passengers
are. Early this morning I heard a babel of voices, and supposed all the
negro boys were on deck, and talking at the same time. Looking out of
my window, I discovered that fifteen or twenty Hindus were doing all
the talking, while the two hundred negro boys were sitting around in
perfect silence. The steerage passengers can look into my room, if so
disposed, and often do. Before I finished dressing, the two hundred
negro boys were fed. Each was given three ship biscuits, and weak tea
was provided for those who could get to it. When the boys gathered
around the teakettle, they reminded me of pigs around a swill-trough.
The stronger boys drank the tea from cups made out of the hollow of
their hands, and the weaker ones, or runts, got none. Several of the
boys were living skeletons, and had evidently been very ill. I threw
an apple to one of the runts, but he had never seen that kind of fruit
before, and I was compelled to inform him by means of signs that it was
good to eat.... Six of the boys sat together, and divided everything
given them. I was told that they were brothers, although there wasn’t
a year’s difference in their ages. Their father probably has a dozen
wives, as polygamy is practiced by nearly all the natives.... While
the negro boys were scrambling for the scant food provided by the
steamship company, the other deck passengers were eating breakfasts of
their own providing. In one place, six Hindu men were eating, seated
in a circle; they seemed to be traveling together. In every party of
Hindus, one of the number seems to be a half-servant, and he waits
on the others. Several of the negro passengers are dressed like the
Hindus, and do not seem to know any other language than Hindu. Other
parties of diners on the deck were Arabs, and all ate with their
fingers. Yesterday, as soon as the ship anchored off Chindi, the Hindus
began fishing, the pastime of lazy people everywhere. All of them had
hooks and lines in their baggage, and the cook provided them with
fresh meat for bait. A dozen or more fish were caught, of a variety
resembling our catfish. One Hindu family caught three fish, which were
“cleaned” for dinner in the dirtiest manner imaginable. I saw the Hindu
mother finally prepare the fish for the fire, and this was the way she
did it: Each piece of fish was dusted with curry powder before going in
the pot, as we dust fish in cracker-meal for frying. Then she put in
a few pieces of potato and onion, and a crushed mass of some sort of
vegetable. The woman’s hands being covered with curry and the crushed
vegetable referred to above, she washed them in water, and poured the
water into the pot with the fish. Then the half-servant took the pot
away, and evidently placed it on the stove of the crew cook. In an hour
he brought it back, and the mess was allowed to cool, after which the
six members of the family gathered around, and ate with their fingers.
The mother made a drink in the following manner: A little condensed
milk was poured into a dirty washbasin nearly full of water. Sugar was
added, and this beverage was passed about, and drank with a relish.
One member of the family was a girl of fourteen, rather pretty, but
dirty beyond description. A boy of eleven was also very good-looking.
The mother, after dinner, lit a cigarette, and handed it occasionally
to her husband, who took a few puffs, and handed it back to his
wife.... Speaking of smoking cigarettes, last evening Adelaide and I
sat with a party on deck to drink coffee after dinner. There were five
ladies in the party, and Adelaide was the only one who did not smoke a
cigarette with the coffee.... The poorer class of Hindus seem to be
the laziest class of people in the world; the poverty of the people of
India is due more to shiftlessness than to British oppression....
The weather has been superb all day, and land in sight nearly all the
time.
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 9.—Shortly after breakfast this morning, we went
ashore at the old Portuguese town of Mozambique, and wandered about
until the big ship whistle warned us, at 1 P. M., to go on board.
When we went down the ship’s side to enter the small boats which
carry passengers ashore at a shilling each, we were mobbed by the
Arab boatmen, who were quarreling over our patronage. They fought
viciously, and many of them fell into the sea, but we had had no
excitement for several days, and rather liked the commotion. There
were certainly two boatmen for every passenger, and the noise they made
was tremendous.... Mozambique is Moorish in design, and I greatly
enjoyed my visit there. The streets are narrow and crooked, and the
houses hundreds of years old; in some of them may still be seen the
windows of mica with which they were originally fitted. Everywhere
are the most delightful little parks, and wherever you go in the town
you cannot see your way out, as the streets are crooked, and you see
only queer old houses with thick walls of stucco. In most towns the
streets are straight; there are long rows of houses on either side,
and the streets end in a distant view of the country. But Mozambique
apparently tries to hide the fact that it is a small town, so no street
runs straight for more than a block or two, when it turns; thus you
are constantly in a maze of houses. The streets are not more than
thirty feet wide, and as all doors are open, owing to the intense heat,
the visitor gains an intimate idea of the habits of the people. The
Portuguese are related to the Spanish, so their houses have interior
courts, and these are provided with gardens or fountains, when water
can be had. I have never seen anything more quaint than the shops of
Mozambique; it is a small, dull town, and its people are therefore
polite. Seven out of ten of the inhabitants are negroes, but the
negroes live in a location to themselves, and their houses are almost
as unusual as the houses in the white town, for they differ from all
the other negro huts I have seen in Africa.... Mozambique has an old
fort, and the stones with which it is built were brought from Portugal
in the rude ships of three or four hundred years ago. Its cannon are
falling to pieces from rust, and I doubt if there is a big gun in the
place that could be fired; but a Portuguese garrison is maintained
there, and we were compelled to give up our cameras before going in—the
soldiers feared we might take pictures of the fortification and sell
them to their enemies. Portugal is the weakest of all nations, and has
always been kicked about. It is unprogressive and poor, and people
out here have very little more respect for the Portuguese than they
have for the Kaffirs. Brazil once belonged to the Portuguese, and
it became such a prosperous country that the court left Lisbon and
located in Rio de Janeiro; the colony became greater than the mother
country. But the inevitable revolution soon came, and Brazil is no
longer a Portuguese colony, although there are more Portuguese there
than in Portugal. Portuguese East Africa will become independent as
soon as it wants independence.... The old fort in Mozambique has
been assaulted and captured by the Arabs many times. This section was
formerly the center of the slave trade. The Arabs began stealing the
natives of East Africa and selling them as slaves, but the Portuguese
saw that the traffic was profitable, and the two rivals for supremacy
in what became a world industry, often clashed. It is related that
on one occasion the Arabs besieged Mozambique fort many months, and
when the garrison surrendered, only three of its defenders were left.
There are no better fighters than the Arabs; they made up the armies
with which Mahomet and his successors almost captured the world. The
Mohammedan influence is still strong here; everywhere we see black men
wearing the red cap which indicates the Mohammedan. Occasionally the
red fez is supplanted by a white embroidered cap, indicating that its
owner has visited Mecca, the holy city. On the ship, most of the deck
passengers are Mohammedans, and we often see them at their prayers.
A Mohammedan is as proud of his religion as a Salvation Army man,
and when he is not praying, he reads the Koran with as much interest
as a Christian Scientist reads “Science and Health.” As Christians
say of the Bible, and Christian Scientists say of Mrs. Eddy’s book,
every reading of the Koran displays new beauties.... Among our deck
passengers, the only one who has been to Mecca is a big negro, and he
is as devout as a Methodist class-leader. He has a prayer-rug, and
seems to loan it to the Indians. Both the negroes and Indians should
be ashamed to accept the Mohammedan religion, for it is a mark left on
them by conquerors. Mohammedan Indians associate freely with negroes,
but the Indians who have remained true to Hinduism do not.... In
the history of the human race, probably more cruelty was practiced in
the slave trade between Mozambique and Zanzibar than anywhere else in
the world. And the negroes in the interior do not seem to be any more
capable of defense now than they were when anyone was at liberty to
enslave them. Human slavery is no longer practiced, either because of
civilization among the stronger races, or because it doesn’t pay. Why
should a planter go to the expense of buying slaves when he can hire a
black laborer for $2 a month, and confine him to quarters, and make him
work as many hours as he chooses? This is done in British territory
all over Africa.... In Mozambique we visited the public market,
and found that many of the negro women had their faces whitened like
circus clowns, in order to look like white people. Adelaide weighs
only a hundred pounds, and has rather a small waist, and all the negro
women thought her waist was disgracefully small. One of them asked
if she might measure it with a string. Permission being granted, and
the measurement made, the string was passed around, and attracted a
babble of disgusted comment from black ladies with the middle-age
spread.... Young chickens were sold at the market at eighteen cents
each, and everything else was equally cheap. Mozambique is built on a
coral island, three miles from the mainland, and everything is brought
in by boats.... The Englishman is a grave sort of person, and has
little sense of humor, but Sammy Marks, the theatrical man, made me
laugh today. In walking about Mozambique, we came across a school in
which forty children of all races were reciting in chorus to an Arab
teacher seated on the floor. “Children,” Mr. Marks said to them, “don’t
you know this is a free day? Sammy Marks is in town, and you can take
your books and go home.” Some of the children understood the words
“free day,” apparently, for after a little preliminary chatter, every
child in the room dashed out the front door, leaving the teacher to
wonder what had happened. The English are great in commerce and war,
but I never before knew one who had a real sense of humor.... One
of the passengers on the “Burgermeister” is a Frenchman, and as he
sits at our table, we know him very well. He is an old traveler, and
knows how to handle ship servants. He eats more food, and drinks more
wine, than any other human being I have ever been acquainted with.
But he is a very polite man, and speaks German as well as French, so
that he is of the greatest assistance when I get into difficulty with
the German waiters. He is always buying champagne, and has five or
six boxes of cigars in his cabin. He usually has not only his waiter
hovering over him when in the dining-room, but the chief steward as
well, and his capacity for getting what he wants is so great that he
amuses me, although an electrical engineer at the same table is mad at
him, and talks about a personal encounter.... I visited Mozambique
with Sammy Marks, the theatrical manager from Capetown, and theatrical
men are usually able to get what is coming to them. But Sammy Marks
could not find a ricksha for hire in Mozambique. We saw plenty of
rickshas, but were told that they were privately owned. Just as we
acknowledged that rickshas were an impossibility in Mozambique, along
came the Frenchman in one. Learning that Mrs. Marks and Adelaide were
very tired, he gallantly turned his vehicle over to them. He went away
for a few minutes, but soon came back riding in another ricksha, and
continued with us in it until we returned to the boat-landing. Mrs.
Marks speaks French like a native, having been born in Paris, and when
I make a remark at table that interests her, she translates it to the
Frenchman. One day I was asked to tell an “American story,” and it
happened to greatly amuse Mr. and Mrs. Marks. The Frenchman did not
catch the “story,” saying I talked too fast in telling it. Thereupon
Mrs. Marks translated it, and the Frenchman was convulsed with
laughter. Mrs. Marks telling my “story” in French, and the Frenchman
listening seriously and intently, was a very amusing experience to
me.... When we were ready to return to the ship, we found the tide
out, and the Arab boatmen carried us to their boats. One boatman, in
carrying a very fat woman, stumbled and fell in the water, and the fat
woman was soaked.... Arriving at the “Burgermeister,” my boatman
demanded 800 reis for carrying two of us to the town and back. The
amount startled me, but it turned out that 800 reis amounts to only
ninety-six cents in American money.... A Portuguese gentleman
became a passenger on the “Burgermeister” at Mozambique, and a number
of friends came aboard to say good-by. They were so busy drinking in
the smoking-room that they did not note the whistle which blew for
visitors to depart; so when we were a mile out, we were compelled to
stop, and signal for a tug to come after them. As the visitors departed
each one embraced his friend again, with great deliberation. Meanwhile
Captain Ulrich was walking the bridge, swearing like a pirate. Just
when it was thought the captain would explode with indignation, he was
told that the mail had not been sent on board, and he was actually
compelled to turn the huge ship around and return to the harbor, where
we whistled ten minutes before the sleepy Portuguese put off in a boat
to see what the noise was about. We were delayed an hour and a half by
the sleepy Portuguese, and nearly everyone on board is cursing them.
The Portuguese are everywhere regarded as slow and unenterprising,
and countries controlled by them do not prosper.... I shall long
remember Mozambique as the quaintest town I have ever visited. I had
never heard of it, therefore it was a surprise.
THURSDAY, APRIL 10.—I awoke very early this morning, and found
unloading in progress at Port Amelia. The deck passengers were up, as
it was necessary to disturb them in order to remove the hatches and
get at the cargo. But when we are at sea, the deck passengers divide
the space over the forward hatch, and make rooms for themselves with
bundles and boxes. Some of them have carpets in their bundles, and
nearly all of them have bedding. A tarpaulin forms a covering over
them, and at night their quarters are lighted by a bunch of electric
lights. It is surprising how well these deck passengers get along,
and how comfortable they are. They may buy supplies of the ship
steward, and seem to have plenty to eat. Most of them are going back
to India, which is not far away from this coast. It was from India
that the small Arab boats came, after the Mohammedan conquest, and
made slaves of hundreds of thousands of the people of the East Coast
of Africa.... Here is an exact description of a dinner I saw six
Indians eat yesterday evening: They squatted around a large pan of
rice, which had been cooking most of the afternoon on the galley stove.
In the centre of the rice was placed a small pan containing a yellow
liquid; probably curry. In the curry-pan was a spoon, and the diners
used this spoon to ladle out the curry into the rice. Each man covered
the portion of rice in front of him with curry, and then stirred up
the mass with his fingers, in order that the curry might be thoroughly
mixed with the rice. The diners were very polite; when one of them
used the spoon, he passed it on to the man next to him. The rice and
curry being thoroughly mixed, the diners made it into balls with their
fingers, and put it in their mouths. During the meal they discussed the
gossip of the day in the most animated manner, as do diners who have
many articles of food, served with plate and silver. One old Hindu in
the party doesn’t seem to be very well, and he soon retired from the
circle, and three others followed him not long after, but two young
fellows remained until both pans were scraped clean. Civilized men eat
a great variety of food, but the more primitive races do not seem to
care for it.... Port Amelia is located in the finest harbor I have
seen in Africa, but it is in the wilds, and does not amount to much.
The place was founded by a major in the English army, who had been
cashiered for bad conduct. He sold his rights to a British company,
which secured a franchise for a railroad to Lake Nyanza, and hopes
to finally be able to finance the venture. Any story of the American
frontier may be duplicated in Africa; adventurers are bold, and capital
timid. Several Arab boats which seemed to be hundreds of years old,
came off after cargo. These boats do not exceed sixty or seventy feet
in length, and sail all along the coast and to India. Several of the
passengers accompanied Captain Ulrich ashore before breakfast. The
captain is an enthusiastic photographer, and takes pictures in natural
colors with an ordinary camera. Anyone may do it by using the special
plates which are sold in most trade centres. The captain sells his
pictures in Germany for very good prices.... Port Amelia was a short
horse, and soon curried, and by 10 A. M. we were out at sea again,
being entertained by a Hindu fakir who obtained permission to come up
on our deck. This man has been my neighbor ever since I came aboard at
Beira; he is camped on deck, with his family, in front of my window. He
has a wife, a daughter of fourteen, a son of twenty, and a son of nine,
and an old retainer who seems to be half cook and half assistant. My
neighbor proved to be the cleverest man of his class I had ever seen.
The collection amounted to only $2.50, and the old man was considerably
disappointed, saying he did better in the second-cabin the day before.
The son of twenty attempted a trick, but failed to do it, and was
hooted by the passengers. Then the father attempted it, and succeeded
without any difficulty. The old fakir knew me, having seen me in my
room many times, from his quarters on deck, and addressed most of his
conversation to me while doing his tricks. He talks a little of half
a dozen languages, and Sammy Marks, the theatrical manager, says the
old fellow would prove a drawing card at any theatre.... There is a
woman on board who is said to resemble the late Queen Victoria. I think
she started the story herself, as she seems very proud of the alleged
resemblance.... The people on this ship are much politer, and much
quieter, than were the passengers on the English ship “Anchises,” on
which we sailed from Australia to South Africa. The English go crazy
about ship sports, and greatly annoy those who want to be quiet, but
the Germans are more considerate of others.