Transcriber's Note:
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
[Illustration: TOWERING PALMS OF RIO.
RIO DE JANEIRO, BRAZIL.
See page 22.]
SEVEN LEGS
ACROSS THE SEAS
_A PRINTER'S IMPRESSIONS
OF MANY LANDS_
BY
SAMUEL MURRAY
Author of "From Clime to Clime"
NEW YORK
MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY
1918
Copyright, 1918, by
MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY
_Published, February, 1918_
INTRODUCTORY
I was early aboard the fastest ship that ever foamed the seas. Later,
a long, strong whistle blast blew--the signal for starting--and soon
she headed southward, the great vessel traveling through New York
harbor to Sandy Hook as noiselessly as a bobsleigh drawn through two
feet of unpacked snow.
I had secured a second class ticket to Buenos Aires, Argentina, by way
of England, this marking the first of several legs of the world over
which I had planned to travel. Thirteen hundred and fifty dollars,
representing years of economical living, was the sum deemed as
necessary to accomplish what I had purposed doing. By trade I am a
printer and linotype operator.
In earlier years money for traveling expenses was of little concern,
for the fascination that accompanies prowling about freight trains
seeking an empty box car, or the open end door of a loaded one in
which to steal a ride, or of turning one's back to the tender of a
locomotive to protect the eyes from hot cinders coming from a snorting
passenger engine while standing on the draughty platform of a "blind"
baggage car--one without end doors--the train at the same time
traveling at a speed of from 45 to 50 miles an hour--the "cinder days"
during the catch-as-catch-can periods of traveling through coastwise
tracts of country, across unbroken prairie stretches and over mountain
fastnesses, are pleasant ones to recall, not forgetting the hungry,
cold and wet spells that all men meet with who are enticed by the
gritty allurements to beat their way about the country on railroad
trains.
Since Benjamin Franklin's day it has been a custom with printers to
travel from place to place, and, as some of the devotees of the "art
preservative of all arts" had covered large territories of the world
from time to time, I wished to be numbered among those at the top of
the list. A union printer has little trouble in getting work in the
United States, by reason of the large Sunday newspaper editions
requiring extra men during the latter part of the week, and by
vacancies taking place through the "moving spirit" of the workers,
which has always characterized the printing trade.
This fascination, however, like other diversions of a rough nature,
lost its charm in time, as it proved more comfortable traveling by
passenger trains--inside the coach and sitting on a cushioned
seat--than riding on the platform of a car that was being constantly
pelted with red-hot cinders. I had graduated from the "free-ride"
school.
On a trip through North America I had visited Yosemite Valley and
Mariposa Big Tree Grove, Yellowstone Park, the Grand Canyon of
Arizona, Mexico, Mammoth Cave, Niagara Falls, and the Thousand Islands
after I had enrolled in the "Cushion College."
Later on, having saved $400, a trip to Europe was made, visiting in
that part of the world most of the chief points of interest. I had
gone as far East as Vienna, Austria, when my funds became so low that
two meals a day was all they would allow of, and I resorted to
traveling at night on railroad trains with one compulsory aim in
view--to save lodging money. After I had bought my steamship ticket in
Rome, Italy, for New York, two weeks before the ship was to sail from
Naples, the best I could figure out of the surplus money I would have
at the time of sailing--on a two meals a day basis--was four
francs--eighty cents. My savings for years, in short, had passed over
the office counters of railroad and steamship companies.
As the major portion of my travel was by water, the nautical word Leg
has been chosen as a designating term for the different sections of
the world visited, embracing South American cities, South Africa,
Zululand, and Victoria Falls, in Rhodesia; Australia, New Zealand and
principal South Sea Island groups; then back to Africa and up the East
Coast to Zanzibar and Mombasa; next through British East Africa to and
across Victoria Nyanza into Uganda. Leaving Africa, we sailed over
the Indian Ocean to India, visiting, among other features in that
country, the Himalaya Mountains, and afterwards Ceylon. From Colombo
we traveled eastward to the Straits Settlements, Philippines, China
and Japan, concluding observations at the Hawaiian Islands. The
journey was from New York to New York over the territory briefly
outlined in the foregoing itinerary.
From Sandy Hook we sail for England.
CONTENTS
PAGE
Introductory iii-v
LEG ONE
CHAPTER I
Incidents of Ocean Travel--Sights and Scenes in England--
London Railways and Traffic--Public Institutions Contrasted 3
CHAPTER II
Off for South America--Storm in Bay of Biscay--Impressions
of Lisbon, Portugal--Madeira Island--Novel Public Hack--
"Neptuning" Passengers--Crossing the Equator--Southern
Cross 10
CHAPTER III
Brazilian Ports--Rio de Janeiro--Monroe Palace--Towering
Palms of Rio--Uruguay--The River Plate--Characteristics of
the People--Buenos Aires--Off for South Africa 19
LEG TWO
CHAPTER I
A Tramp Ship at Sea--Wonderful Birds--Ashore in South Africa 37
CHAPTER II
Durban--Its Mixed Population--Sanitary and Clean--The Christ
Thorn--Novel Ways of Trapping Monkeys--The Indian Coolie, a
Taxed Ulcer--"Spiking" a Hindu's Tongue--Horned Ricksha
Pullers--Labor in Politics--Harpooning and Cutting up Whales 43
CHAPTER III
Trip to Zululand--Home Life of the Natives--Wives for Cows--
Calling on an Old Printer 74
CHAPTER IV
South African Railway Travel--Scenes of Massacres--
Johannesburg--Transvaal Gold Mines 90
CHAPTER V
Pretoria and the Boers--The Kruger Monument--Puzzling Names 109
CHAPTER VI
On to Mafeking--Interesting Natives and Souvenirs--Sighting
Rhodes' Grave--Rhodesia--Bulawayo--Victoria Falls, a Mile of
Amber-Colored Lace--Falls Compared--Deadly African Fever 115
CHAPTER VII
Kimberley, the Diamond City--Bloemfontein, the Convention
City--Crossing the Dry, Barren Karoo Country--The
Ostrich--Capetown--Climate the Best in South Africa--Table
Mountain 129
LEG THREE
CHAPTER I
Leaving the Baltic Sea for Australia--A White Country--The
Gold Fields--Crossing the Great Australian Bight--
Melbourne--Pensions for Aged--Immigration Encouraged 145
CHAPTER II
Trip to Adelaide--Finest Homes in the World--Kangaroo Called
the Native--Visit to Ballarat 157
CHAPTER III
The Heads--Sydney, Its Noted Harbor--Rural Education on
Wheels 162
CHAPTER IV
Crossing Bass Straits--Tasmania--Hobart--Port Arthur and Its
Prison Walls and Memories 170
LEG FOUR
CHAPTER I
Crossing the Tasman Sea--Last White Settlement--Dunedin, a
Scotch City--Christchurch--Wellington and Its Splendid
Harbor--Pelorus Jack, the Pilot Fish 179
CHAPTER II
To Maoriland--Rotorua--Geyserland--The Maori--Nose-Rubbing--
Auckland--Courteous, Prosperous People 190
CHAPTER III
South Sea Islands--The Fijians--Free Railroad Travel--A
Vegetable Marvel 199
CHAPTER IV
An Ocean Park--Natives of the Samoan Group--No Locked
Doors--The Samoan a Fatalist 208
CHAPTER V
Friendly Islands--Pretty Harbor of Vavau--Customs--A
Striking, Strapping King--Sacred Animals 215
LEG FIVE
CHAPTER I
A "Red Ticket" for South Africa--Eight Weeks' Travel for
Ninety Dollars--Portuguese East Africa--Inhambane, Where
Death Revels--Beira, the "Trolley Town" 225
CHAPTER II
German East Africa--Women in Iron Yokes--Zanzibar--Old Slave
Mart--Cloves Thrive--Tanga 232
CHAPTER III
Mombasa--A Three Years' Residence Limit--In the Big Game
Country--Nature's "Greatest Show on Earth"--Nairobi--Dead
Left to Wild Beasts 240
CHAPTER IV
Naked Natives--Victoria Nyanza--Bubonic Flea--Uganda--
African "Freight Train"--Sleeping Sickness--Deadly Tsetse
Fly--Beautiful Entebbe--The Rubber Country--Ant Eaters--
Kampala--Jinja and Ripon Falls--River Nile 250
LEG SIX
CHAPTER I
Off for India--Ship Doctor Hunting for Jiggers--
Seychelles--Bombay--The Parsi--Towers of Silence--
Handsomest Railway Station 265
CHAPTER II
In Baroda--Sacred Monkeys--Ahmedabad--Birds, Animals and
Insects Worshiped--Agra--The Taj Mahal--Plural Wives--Delhi,
Rebuilding--Elephant "Rocks" the Cradle 278
CHAPTER III
Aligarh--Novel Water Carrier--Cawnpore--The Massacre
Well--Lucknow--Benares--Hindu Gods--Monkey Temple--Bathing
Ghats--Sarnath and Its Temple Ruins 292
CHAPTER IV
Himalayas--Magnificent Views--Kinchinjanga, the
Giant--Darjeeling--Mountain Tribes 306
CHAPTER V
Calcutta--Memories of "The Black Hole"--Blood Offerings--A
Mecca for Hindu Widows Who Bathe--Madras--First
Christian Church in India 316
CHAPTER VI
Colombo--Ceylon--Cinnamon Tree Industry--Trotting Bullocks
Afford Rapid Transit--Kandy--Buddha's Tooth--Elephants in
Trucking--Nutmeg Trees 327
LEG SEVEN
CHAPTER I
Nine Weeks to the Orient--Singapore--Malay States Rubber
Mad--Straits Settlements--Hogs in Baskets--Chinamen in Motor
Cars--A "Dutch" Wife--Off to Hongkong--A Horseless
Town--Mountain Travel 335
CHAPTER II
Canton--Chinese Pirates--Lost Within the City Walls--City of
the Dead--"Feeding" the Dead--Quaint Home Customs--Chinese
Industrious--No Waste Land 347
CHAPTER III
Manila--Poor Water, Whisky Plentiful--Consumption--Squirrel
Nest Homes--Chinese Opium Smugglers--Evicting the Dead--No
Vault Rent, No Resting Place--The Manila Wall 354
CHAPTER IV
Shanghai--Professional Weepers--Family Feeding by
Contract--Wheelbarrow Transit--The Bund--Leaving Wusung for
Japan--Japanese Girls Coaling Ship 362
CHAPTER V
The Inland Sea--Kobe--The Jap's Home--Street Cars and
Rickshas in Competition--Men, Women and Children in
Harness--Income Tax on Labor--Kyoto Paper Houses--Kyoto
Temples--Yokohama--Kamakura--The Daibutsu Bronze Giant 371
CHAPTER VI
Tokyo--Mikado's Palace--Asakusa Temple--Geisha Women--
Hari-Kiri--Black Teeth--Nikko, Its Temples--Funeral
Festivals 383
CHAPTER VII
To Honolulu, Hawaii--Recrossing the 180th Meridian--Cheap
Ice and Bananas--"Don't Spit" Signs--Sugar Cane--The Prize
"Black Maria" of the World--Education--Natives Seek Easy
Jobs--Home of the Last Queen--Hilo--To Kilauea Crater--The
Volcano in Action--An Appalling Scene 394
Itinerary 405
Map.
ILLUSTRATIONS
Towering Palms of Rio. Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. (See
page 22) _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
Southern Cross. (See page 17.) 16
Plaza de Mayo (top) and Avenida de Mayo (bottom).
Buenos Aires, Argentine 30
Jim Fish Was the Swiftest Puller that Ever Wore a
Brace of Horns. Durban, South Africa. (See page
61) 60
Zulus "Scoffing" Mealy Meal. Zululand, South Africa 78
Native Huts and Kafir Corn (top); African Transport
(bottom). South Africa 96
Victoria Falls, Rhodesia. (See page 122) 122
Parliament House, Melbourne (top), and Victoria Markets,
Sydney, Australia (bottom) 162
Maori Women Cooking by Boiling Springs (right).
(See page 193.) Maori Women's Salute--Rubbing
Noses and Shaking Hands (left). New Zealand.
(See page 195) 194
Interior of Samoan Home, Built of Breadfruit Tree, Secured
by Coir; No Nails Used. Samoa. (See page 213) 212
Vigil on the Veld (top), British East Africa; "Trolley"
Pushers (bottom), Beira, Portuguese East Africa.
(See page 230.) 248
Parsi (right), Bombay, India. (See page 271.) Bhisti
(Water-Carrier) (left). India. (See page 293.) 270
Types of Indian Soldiers. The Goorkha (right). (See
page 311.) The Sikh (left). (See page 311.) 290
Mount Kinchinjanga (Himalayas). Center Peak in
Circle, Mount Everest. Darjeeling, India. (Photo,
Burlington) 312
Small Colony of Half a Million Sampan Dwellers of
Pearl River; These Water Homes Save House Rent.
Canton, China. (See page 351.) 352
Panorama of Honolulu, Hawaii 398
LEG ONE
SEVEN LEGS ACROSS THE SEAS
CHAPTER I
A puzzling phase of ocean travel soon becomes apparent during a
passenger ship's journey to one making his first voyage--sometimes
when a vessel has been at sea not more than a few hours. He is apt to
find himself at a loss to account for the absence of the many persons
who crowded the deck rails of the steamship--chatting, saying good-by
to friends and some bidding a final farewell to their country--before
and immediately after the vessel pulled away from her dock into the
harbor. After a few days, however, the mystery gradually unfolds.
Vacant chairs in the dining saloon become occupied from time to time
as the journey advances; more passengers are taking part in deck
amusements; new faces are seen in the social hall and smoking
saloon--the ship's "family" surely grows. On voyages of from two to
four weeks' duration this feature becomes even more interesting.
Frequently, when the ship has reached the end of the journey, before
which every one would seem to have become used to the sea, "strangers"
will be observed leaving the vessel. One cannot help thinking the ship
has stopped during the night hours and taken on passengers from the
main. This is explained by some voyagers keeping to their cabins from
the time of sailing.
Seasickness is largely responsible for this perplexing phase of water
travel. Women are more affected than men, and the man who will
discover a remedy for seasickness will find his name immortalized.
Many women will travel for weeks on the water so sick they cannot
raise their heads, yet not a complaining word will be uttered by most
of them. This form of bravery seems to be the only comforting thing
that accompanies the sea wreaking out its vengeance on womankind.
Six days after leaving Sandy Hook found us in Liverpool, England.
Passengers disembarked early in the forenoon, who, having heard so
much of England's dull atmosphere, were all surprised to find the sun
shining. The orb was of a vapory appearance, though, which suggested
that perhaps it had been on a sea voyage also, as there was a marked
resemblance between the appearance of the sun and some of the
passengers who had undergone a sick trip across. Most of us boarded a
train for London.
Railway train service in England is fast, the speed on main lines
being from 45 to 50 miles an hour. The passenger coaches are of
compartment design, which are comfortable to ride in when only half
filled, or four persons to a compartment; but when from six to eight
passengers--the latter number being the full seating capacity--occupy
one compartment, travel proves very uncomfortable, as there is no room
to stretch one's legs in any direction, since the passengers sitting
on one side face those seated on the other side. It is a case of knees
to knees. Railroad fare is two and three cents a mile; a higher rate
is charged for hauling freight in England than that prevailing in
America. Food, however, is cheaper than on American trains.
The locomotives are small--some of them not half the tonnage of the
American engine--but the driving wheels reach to the top of the
boiler, which accounts for the high speed schedules of the English
railroads. One misses the ringing of the locomotive bell, as there are
no bells on English engines. Another feature of the English railroads
that seems odd to an American is the small freight cars, which in some
instances are not one-third as large as some of the American cars and
trucks. Trains in England have not the solid appearance of the
American train, for the reason that their wheels are not like the
American wheel, but have spokes, like those of a wheelbarrow. The
convenience a union railway station affords the traveling public,
found in many cities of America, is much missed when visiting the
metropolis of England. Naturally, numerous railways center in London,
and the terminus of each seems to have been located as widely apart
from each other as the boundaries of the city will allow. None of the
stations seen here can favorably compare with those found in the
larger cities of the United States.
The cleanliness of London's streets is the first impression one has of
the premier city of Europe. And how obliging the public conveyance
employees are; and the policemen, also. It is a pleasure to go about
in London, as every one seems willing to answer questions, to point
out to a stranger places of interest, and to make one comfortable in
every sense of the word.
"London traffic," a feature of this city one often hears mentioned, is
accounted for, to a large degree, by the absence of surface car lines
or elevated railroads coursing the streets of London City proper, and
also to the narrowness of many of the main thoroughfares. With such an
immense population, one can infer the great demand placed upon 'buses,
public hacks, taxicabs and private vehicles, which at once suggests
light-tire traffic. Heavy trucks, loaded with all sorts of
merchandise, are not seen in corresponding sections of London as one
finds them in populous American centers. In the subways, or tubes, are
but two tracks, which prohibit, of course, fast travel. On the other
hand, sixteen underground railways intersect the city and suburbs. The
atmosphere of a subway is perhaps a more cosmopolitan phase than any
other of our industrial factors. Were a blind person--one familiar
with our underground railway odors--to sail from New York for Europe,
being ignorant of the presence of subways there, and later, in London
or Paris, find himself at the entrance of a "tube," he would at once
know he was at the approach of a subway by the presence of the smell,
as a similar atmosphere emanates from all of them.
Street car fare is higher for long distances than in most American
cities. Though short distance rides are cheaper, some of the five cent
rides in America would cost fifteen cents in London. Motor 'buses,
which are numerous, go a certain distance for two cents, but the next
"stage" is another two-cent charge, and by the time eight or ten miles
are traveled one will have paid from 10 to 15 cents. Most public
conveyances are double decked. Electric trolley cars are operated
outside of London City proper, and the fare on these is similar to
that charged by the 'buses. One can ride a long distance in a cab for
25 cents, however.
Newspapers here generally have not the attractive nor the prosperous
appearance of those in the United States. Until recently most of the
London dailies sold for two cents, and even more. Periodicals and
books also are more expensive in Great Britain, although the average
wages paid artisans in this industry is about half those paid in
America. Mechanics engaged in other trades received from $11 to $15
weekly, and consequently the British mechanic in America doubles the
salary of his own country, plus other advantages. House rent,
generally paid weekly, runs from $3.50 to $5. Most of the working
people of London live in the suburbs, and are charged but half
price--about 8 cents--for return railway tickets if bought for trains
reaching the city before 8 o'clock in the morning. The government
collects an income tax on all yearly salaries of $600 and over.
It looks strange to American visitors in London to see only boys
engaged in keeping the streets clean. One may not quite agree with the
practice of boys doing that sort of work--for the reason it looks as
if men should be engaged at such employment--but the fact remains the
streets are very clean. The sweepings are not put in cans, as is
customary in some American cities, where they might be tipped over by
mischievous boys, but iron bins are placed in the sidewalk close to
the curb, into which the refuse is emptied. This custom seems much
better than the American system.
Seen drawn about the streets here, close to the curb, is what one
would call a street sprinkler. It is a sprinkler, but the liquid
running from the pipes is a disinfectant, a carbolic acid odor being
noticeable.
The sale of matches by persons who seem to be in needy circumstances,
seen at almost every corner of the business sections of the city,
leads one to think that they must be used even for stove fuel. The
proportion of poorly dressed people is much larger than in American
cities. Any of the homeless who apply for shelter are provided with
sleeping accommodation by the authorities.
The price of food in a similar class of restaurants seemed more
expensive in London than in New York. At a second class hotel where I
stopped the rate was $1.25 for room and breakfast, but heat was not
included. A fireplace in the room contained smoky, bituminous coal,
and to have this lighted cost 25 cents. So with the room, fire and
breakfast, the charge came to $1.50 a day.
Chairs are scattered about the London parks, and an American naturally
thinks seats in public places are free, as in the United States; but
one is not sitting long before a man appears and asks for a "check."
The person resting then learns that it costs two cents to occupy a
chair in these places. The benches, however, are free, but these are
few compared to the number found in American parks. Similar conditions
will be met with in some of the parks of Berlin, and also in Paris,
but the resting places in the French capital are more liberally
supplied with free seats.
Many men may be seen in London wearing a "plug" hat, a sack coat and
trousers turned up to the ankles. Those engaged at clerical employment
usually wear this sort of headgear to the office. Mechanics, also,
boast of a "stove-pipe" in their wardrobes. While the high hat may be
retained by some artisans as a memento of their wedding day, still
many may be seen worn by this class of breadwinner when attending
church services.
No people spend less time in public eating and drinking places than
Americans. In Continental Europe they have their cafés, chairs and
tables inside the buildings and out on the sidewalks and streets, and
these are used to a large extent as offices by patrons, as proprietors
furnish writing paper and ink to customers. In England they have
their tea rooms, where men sit and sip tea and smoke their pipes for
hours. Cake or scones are usually served with tea, an additional
charge being made.
To no people more than Americans have so many heirlooms of memory been
handed down by England. How the serious thought of one is aroused by a
visit to Westminster Abbey or St. Paul's Cathedral; how youthful days
stand before one, so to speak, when a visit is made to London Bridge,
Hyde Park, the Tower, the great British Museum, or to historic places
in and about the city where great Englishmen lived and died.
Hearing so much of the English Parliament building, one is led to
believe that he will see the best legislative structure in the world
when his eyes rest on this historical edifice. He may see in his
mind's eye an imposing structure of white marble or granite built on
an elevated plot of land, as most capitols are, rich with
ornamentation and strikingly imposing. But, on the contrary, the
building, located on the River Thames, is rather mediæval in
appearance. America is far behind some of the European countries in
art galleries, good roads, docks, and splendid cathedrals, but there
are features of the United States which neither Europe nor other
divisions of the world can equal. For instance, no capitol can compare
with the admirable appearance of the United States' legislative
building; in no country will one find such splendid municipal parks as
are found in some American cities. We have not seen Hagenbeck's Zoo in
Hamburg, Germany, but, apart from that city, Bronx Zoo in New York is
foremost of those seen in other cities; the Museum of Natural History
in Gotham is unexcelled; our great bridges are unequaled; the interior
of the Congressional Library in Washington, D. C., will stand
comparison with any, and the inspiring Washington Monument, also
located in the national capital, stands alone when dealing with
campaniles, towers, and pagodas. To the foregoing "prides" of the new
world may be added towering Mariposa Big Tree Grove, peerless Yosemite
Valley, wonderful Yellowstone Park and the marvelous Grand Canyon of
Arizona.
After a short stay in London we boarded a "boat train"--an English
travel convenience--for Southampton, from which port the steamship on
which we had booked passage sailed for South America.
CHAPTER II
On reaching the Bay of Biscay a storm was encountered, the decks being
vacated by passengers and the cabin berths made use of for some time.
During the night sounds were heard at intervals that reminded one of a
large tree falling. The piano in the social hall had been forced loose
from its fastening by the rolling and pitching of the ship, and while
in what might be termed its periods of tantrum the big musical
instrument seemed bent on smashing all the furniture "in the house."
Most of the passengers were awake, and a great many were inquiring if
the ship was breaking to pieces.
Those starting on long journeys should provide themselves with a
passport. One may travel for years through certain sections of the
world and not be called upon to show his national voucher to verify
his identity; yet it is a good thing to have one in one's possession.
One may be taken into custody in some foreign city through mistaken
identity, or be detained in other ways, when a passport would clear
matters at once with small inconvenience and little delay, compared to
much uneasiness and considerable time lost, if one has neglected to
include in his traveling outfit this means of identification. Again,
when visiting a consulate, one will not have conversed with the
officials long before he will be asked, directly or indirectly, if he
has his passport with him. If the visitor should not have one, the
conversation is usually of a casual nature. On the other hand, if the
visitor has his government's credentials, an interesting chat will
often result, during which information may be gathered of the
character of the country he is traveling in that would not be
volunteered to an American who had failed to identify himself with the
standard voucher. When leaving the consulate, the person with a
passport is generally invited to "call any time while in the city."
Furthermore, if the assistance of a consul were needed in any
contingency, that government officer, if he should not care to offer a
helping hand, may evade a reasonable duty, and defend his actions
behind the fact that the "alleged" American did not have a passport.
If the person in need of official assistance had this means of
identification, that same officer, fearing he would be later called
upon by his government to explain why he neglected to do his duty,
would exert himself and lend aid to his countryman. An American with a
passport in foreign lands has a better standing with his government's
representatives than a citizen who has not provided himself with one.
Being good for only two years, and not generally recognized after that
time, in order to keep in good standing with his country, one must, if
living in foreign parts, have his passport renewed or extended. Only
in exceptional circumstances is a consul allowed to issue passports;
these must come from Washington. A consul may extend one, however, for
an additional two years; but the passport cannot be extended more than
once. Application should be made to the Secretary of State,
Washington, D. C., when two blanks--native and naturalized--will be
sent to the applicant. If a native, he fills out the native blank and
will have the contents sworn to before a notary public. The verified
blank will then be sent to the Secretary of State, when a passport
will soon reach the applicant. The charge is one dollar, plus the
notary's fee.
"I wish I had one of those fat, juicy beefsteaks that I was served
with while traveling across America," said a Portuguese woman
globe-trotter, as some of us, like chickens after rain, began to
appear on deck when the storm had subsided. "I never ate beefsteak in
any country that tasted as good as those I got in America," she added,
with a perceptible smacking of her lips. She wasn't the only one who
wished they had a succulent piece of American beefsteak. But the
commissary of the ship had little to do while traveling from Cape
Ushant to Cape Finistierre--the former marking the north and the
latter the south boundaries of the Bay of Biscay, 365 miles across.
At Lisbon, Portugal, the chilling winds of the north and the raw
weather were succeeded by soft, south breezes and warm sunshine.
Entering the Tagus River on our way to the Portuguese capital, we
passed a commanding fort, the banks green with grass and vegetables.
Reaching the city, women in their bare feet and none too tidy, bearing
heavy burdens on their heads, mostly in baskets--fish, vegetables,
coal, flowers, and other marketable commodities--revealed a condition
in Southern Europe not pleasant to contemplate, and which is seen in
few countries of Continental Europe. The first suggestion of the
tropics was had at Lisbon, by reason of a great many of the people,
dark skinned, appearing in thin clothing and bare feet. Verdure was
growing on every side--it was the month of February.
Travelers cannot fail to show a slight weakness for the small Latin
country, for Portugal was the home of Vasco da Gama, the explorer--a
really great traveler--whose daring achievements late in the fifteenth
century laid the foundation of an empire, and who discovered places
and countries we are to visit later.
"Look!" said a man wearing the cloth of a church official, who was
showing a number of visitors around a Lisbon cathedral. We were in the
crypt, where, in expensive coffins, rested the remains of some of the
distinguished dead of Portugal. He had opened the lid of a casket and
invited his visitors to look inside. To our astonishment, in the
gruesome light, our eyes rested on the crumbling remains of a
personage who, the official said, had passed away a long time before.
More coffin lids were turned back, and in the boxes were seen, in the
murky light, the grim, long outline of a human being. We had never
known any one to go so far to obtain a fee.
American-made street cars are in use in the Portuguese capital, and
were easily recognized from those manufactured in other countries, as
the American car is single, while those of other countries are mostly
of a double-decked pattern.
Pavement of dark gray and white colored stone in that city looks odd,
laid at twisting angles. A plaza is paved entirely with this deceptive
stone, which sailors call "Rolling Motion Square." This square is
located close to the wharf, and sailors, having finished their shore
leave and returning to their ship, usually find trouble in getting off
"Rolling Motion Square."
Egg soup is a delicacy made in Lisbon. When served, it resembles
consommé, with halves of a hard-boiled egg swimming in the dish.
The business section of Lisbon is built between two high hills, which
necessitates using an elevator, in some instances, if one is going
from the center to the higher part of the city. The buildings are of
stone and brick, faced with cement. One of the most attractive avenues
in the world runs through the commercial district of the city. This
boulevard is unusually wide, the center comprising a broad park place,
with roadways of a good width on each side. Nearly half a million
people compose the population of this Latin capital. Portugal was a
Roman province as early as 200 B. C.
Funchal, Madeira Island, located about 450 miles west of the Moroccan
coast, was next reached, being favored with a good sea from Lisbon,
the first since leaving Southampton. This place, with a population of
20,000, is the chief port of Madeira, and its attractiveness--flowers,
vines, spreading trees, climate and tidy appearance--proves a magnet
to many Europeans who seek rest and recreation.
A strange and unusual public "hack" here arrests one's attention. This
vehicle, covered with canvas and drawn by oxen, is really a sleigh,
although it is doubtful if a flake of snow has ever fallen in this
section. The runners, as those of a snow sled, are shod with strips of
steel, which are pulled over streets paved with cobblestone. When
ready to start, the driver says a word to the oxen, and off they go,
the sleigh gliding over the paving nearly as smoothly as if drawn over
snow. The steel runners, passing over them for years, have worn the
stones quite smooth, even slippery in some instances, hence the
practicability of the sleigh-hack.
Madeira Island, termed the Pearl of the Atlantic, a Portuguese
possession, has an area of 315 square miles, and is 35 miles long and
12 wide. It is very productive of fruit--oranges, lemons, figs,
pomegranates, pears, peaches and grapes. The island is more noted for
its good climate and wines, however, most of the inhabitants being
engaged in the grape growing industry. The United States came to the
fore in 1871 by saving the grapevines here, which were being destroyed
by a pest. The American grapevine stock was introduced and grafted to
the native stump, which withstood the attacks of phyloxera.
Funchal is a sea junction, as most of the passenger steamships plying
between Europe and South American ports stop at this place. Passengers
coming north from South America and going to South Africa come to
Madeira, and those coming from South Africa and going to South America
also transship at this island.
Getting a glimpse of the places mentioned in the foregoing will
account for one traveling from the United States to South America by
way of England. The fare was also cheaper for the same accommodation
than by going direct from New York.
We regretfully return to our ship, there being no more stops for eight
days, as we are to recross the Atlantic Ocean diagonally. The big
vessel, with a crowded passenger list and loaded to the water line
with cargo, was headed toward the equatorial line, sailing on a
velvety sea. Sailors were busy stretching canvas over the decks to
make the hot weather soon to be encountered more bearable, while the
electric fans in the cabins were being put in order. Every one had
settled down for the sail to Pernambuco, Brazil, the next port.
During the trip British third-class passengers enjoyed the benefits of
the good maritime laws of their country, while passengers from other
countries traveling in the same section of the ship did not fare so
well. Britishers were allowed privileges on a portion of the upper
deck, as provided by law, while third-class passengers who embarked at
ports south of Southampton remained on the third-class deck.
It is surprising how time slips by during long voyages, and it is
interesting to note the national grouping of travelers. The French
passengers will be found assembled on a certain portion of the deck,
the Spaniards likewise, also Germans--each nationality generally
keeping to itself. Our breakfast was ready at 8 o'clock, and a light
lunch served two and a half hours later. Ship inspection usually takes
place at from 10 to 11 o'clock in the forenoon, the captain, the
purser, the doctor or the chief steward being the officers who form
this committee. Each deck is visited, when the dining saloons,
kitchens, berths, bedding and other furnishings of the cabins
generally receive the critical attention of the inspectors. Passengers
having complaints to make or suggestions to offer concerning ship
conditions may do so at this time. At half-past twelve dinner was
ready. In the second class section mealtimes are designated as
breakfast, dinner and supper; in the first-class, breakfast, luncheon
and dinner. When ready, these are generally announced by ringing a
bell, beating a gong, or by bugle call. Many passengers take a nap in
their cabins after dinner, and, if not in the cabin, one is pretty
sure to find them in the Land of Nod in their steamer chair on deck;
others read a great deal and divide the time with sleep. The sleepers
are sometimes hurriedly awakened from their slumbers, however, as what
is termed "fire practice" takes place several times a week on
well-conducted ships. Bells clang, without warning; the ship's whistle
blows shrill blasts; sailors, stewards and officers hurry to the
lifeboats to which they had been assigned before sailing, which are
soon raised from their davits, swung outward, and lowered at the sides
of the vessel; members of the crew may be seen wearing life-saving
devices, and the passengers generally give evidence of anxious concern
on such occasions until they learn it is but a "fire drill" that is
being enacted instead of the ship being really afire. Beef tea was
served in the cool climate and ices when the hot zones were reached
between noontime and supper. Light lunch--generally cheese and
crackers and tea--was served between the evening meal and bedtime.
Music was furnished twice a day by an orchestra. Religious
services--those of the Church of England--on British passenger
steamships are made obligatory by maritime law. On Sunday mornings
many of the passengers attended, which took place in the social hall
of the first-class section, the ritual being read by the captain or
purser. Most of the ship's crew must be present, some of whom
generally lead the singing and furnish the music. It often happens,
however, preachers are among the travelers, when one of them will be
invited to preach. First class passengers are expected to appear in
evening dress for dinner on vessels of some of the popular British
lines running to far Southern ports.
So far as bird life is concerned, the sea is a graveyard when sailing
through the equatorial zone. All fowl leave the ship when the sun gets
hot and the breezes become warm. The only winged life appearing in
this hot section of the sea was flying fish, sometimes hundreds of
them rising from the water at the same time. These fish are from four
to ten inches in length, slender, and resemble young mackerel. They
spring from the sea by a quick stroke of the tail, and, with fins
outspread, are able to sustain and prolong their leap for a minute or
more. The fins measure several inches across and become transparent in
the sun, but do not flap like the wings of a bird. As the fish rise
only from six inches to a few feet from the water, their flight, in a
choppy or rough ocean, is generally not more than from two to twenty
feet, as they disappear on coming in contact with a wave. On a calm
sea, however, their isinglass-like "wings" will often remain
outstretched for a distance of a hundred yards or so, when the fish
will dart into the water as suddenly as they emerged from it.
[Illustration: SOUTHERN CROSS.]
"Neptune" is a "game" played only at sea, and the "sport" is generally
indulged in when a passenger steamship is sailing under the equator. A
canvas tank is fixed on deck and nearly filled with water. It is an
unvarying rule with some travelers that one who has not crossed the
equator must be "Neptuned." A "coaster," as one is termed who has
never crossed the equatorial line, is reminded by the Simon-pures
that, in order to be a full-fledged traveler, he must take a plunge in
the canvas tank. Most passengers who are not sick comply with the
request, but there are some who do not take kindly to the idea. In
such instances a half dozen, or a dozen passengers if necessary, bend
the will of the unwilling one to their idea of maintaining this
tradition of the sea by literally picking up the unbeliever and
pitching him into the canvas tank of water. He then has been
"Neptuned." Danger of taking cold from this outdoor plunge is slight,
as often the tar in the cracks between boards on deck of the ship is
bubbling from the intense rays of the sun.
Having reached the southern division of the world, the heavenly bodies
forming the Southern Cross appear. The cross is not composed of a
thickly starred upright beam, neither is there a compact panel of
stars forming the crosspiece. Four stars located at certain sections
of the heavens form a distinct outline of a cross. The great crucifix
at times appears to be standing straight, but more often it will be
seen in the heavens in a reclining position, so to speak; again it
will be observed resting on its side, but never pointing downward. The
section of the sky in which the cross is to be found is the southeast.
At one season of the year it will rest near the center of the
firmament and in the "Milky Way "; at another period it will be seen
closer to the horizon. Lesser bodies appear in the zone embraced by
the four stars that compose the profile of the ensign of Christianity,
but these neither add to nor detract from the formation of the solemn
emblem of suffering that stands out so clearly among the millions of
orbs in the starry firmament. Two bright stars below, in direct line
with the bottom star of the cross, are called "the pointers."
What a difference is at once apparent in the period of daylight north
of the equator and that south of the equatorial line. From a slow
setting sun and a lingering twilight north of the great line to a
rapidly setting sun and a comparatively short twilight south of the
equator is observed. Fifteen to twenty minutes after the sun sets
darkness will have settled.
"Holy stoning a ship" is a nautical term that, when first heard by a
landsman, arouses his curiosity concerning the particular duty the
phrase suggests in a sailor's routine. A holy stone--somewhat larger
than two bricks placed together, of cream color and of a soft or
sandy material--is used to whiten the deck of a ship. Most persons
would conclude that a thorough washing of a deck with clear water
should satisfy one possessed of even super-neat exactions. But a
sailor's conception of the term "spick and span" does not end in this
matter with the merit of water alone. The holy stone is secured in an
iron frame similar to that of a house mop, with handle attached. It is
also pushed forward and pulled backward when used to clean a deck in
the same way that a mop is used to clean a floor. The deck is made wet
before "stoning," then sprinkled with fine white sand, and is next
thoroughly gone over with the "cleaner." When the sailor has finished
his hard "scrubbing" task the deck appears many shades brighter than
it would if only water had been used. The term "holy stone" is said to
have originated through the first stones used in bleaching ship decks
having been taken from the ruined walls of a church in Cornwall,
England.
CHAPTER III
Security of life in an Indian's bark canoe, even when going over river
rapids, would seem assured, compared to the chances against one being
able to keep his feet on a Brazilian catamaran sailing on the broad
ocean. Men stand on two logs tied together, these about a foot each in
diameter and from eight to ten feet in length, the upper side flat,
with a small pole fastened in one of the logs, to which is secured a
piece of canvas--as flimsy a sample of sea craft as one may see in a
lifetime. No provision being made for a seat on the shaky and risky
"boat"--no room for one, in fact--it seemed dangerous to sail it even
on a small lake; yet a number of these were seen skimming over the sea
several miles outside the harbor of Pernambuco, Brazil.
We had reached South America at the beginning of March, which is
Northern August south of the equator. The winter season of the year in
the northern is the summer in the southern division of the world.
Passengers leaving the vessel entered a large basket by a door. When
six persons had got inside, the winches on the ship began to revolve,
raising the basket high enough to clear the deck rail, and the
passengers were slowly lowered to a lighter below. Chug! They had
reached the bottom, and if any of the travelers had their tongue
between their teeth at that moment it would be safe to infer that that
member had suffered from the bump. This carrier was six feet deep,
made of reed or wicker, and was kept in shape and supported by
circular iron bands, like the hoops round a barrel, which, in this
case, were inside the basket. Passengers embark by the same means.
Crude and odd devices of this sort lend spice to travel.
Bahia, the oldest city in Brazil, was the next stop. At this port no
basket was used for disembarking, passengers leaving the ship by a
side ladder and being taken ashore in launches. An unusual number of
men seemed to board the vessel, and later, when the gong sounded for
visitors to go ashore, most of them left with their pockets bulging
with goods bought aboard. Pertaining to this, an amusing feature came
to light--the custom officers, who had been stationed at the gangway
and other parts of the ship to prevent smuggling, seemingly not
noticing the difference in the girth of a man on leaving the vessel to
that when he boarded her.
Sailing on the same smooth sea on which we had started from Madeira
Island ten days before, Rio de Janeiro, the capital and metropolis of
Brazil, was reached later.
The harbor of this city is considered the finest in the world. The
noted haven is entered by a deep channel, three-quarters of a mile
wide, flanked by two imposing stone mountains, rising nearly 1,300 and
1,100 feet, respectively. Tropical vegetation grows luxuriantly on the
shores, and beyond a circle of high, evergreen mountains offer an
unusually fascinating foreground. The harbor is sixteen miles long and
from two to seven miles wide, this area being dotted with over a
hundred islands, also heavily verdured with a tropical growth. One
feature, however, robs Rio de Janeiro and her harbor of a scenic
climax. To the left, on which side of the bay the city stands, rise
low hills, which shut from view, until opposite the wharves, what
otherwise would reveal a panorama of the metropolis in keeping with
that of the fame of the harbor. One is at a loss to account for the
absence of docks here, considering this city has a population of
nearly a million inhabitants and is the commercial center of Brazil.
Before, and also after, the ship anchored in the bay, where a large
number of passengers left, the deafening noise made by hack barkers
and hotel runners, shouting from boats below, exceeded anything of
this nature heard elsewhere. Here it was a medley of whistles on
yachts, launches and similar craft, together with blasts from horns, a
racket from other noise-making devices, and the raucous voices of
fruit vendors, crying their wares from rowboats. For a quarter of a
mile about the vessel hundreds of small craft were bumping into each
other, their owners cursing and shouting at those in approaching boats
who sought a more advantageous place where a fare might come their
way; in no place in the world, one would feel safe in saying, could
there be more turmoil and confusion under similar circumstances. No
one seemed to be in charge; every one was bending his every effort for
a fare. Evidently a great deal of revenue would be cut off from a
considerable number of the population of Rio were the government to
build docks.
Having read of cholera in Rio years before would lead one to entertain
a belief that he is entering an unclean city, and the great number of
blacks and half-castes one sees before he gets off the ship suggests
nothing to the contrary. But, when in the city proper, what a surprise
one meets with. No place is better supplied with small parks than this
metropolis, and public conveniences and sanitation in general, which
are so essential to the physical welfare of a people, are creditable
features. To be sure, the old part is of Spanish style--brick and
cement houses, with narrow streets. The object in building narrow
streets is to foil the sun--to keep cool--as the narrower they are the
more shade is cast. One will soon notice the difference in comfort
when walking between narrow or wide streets in hot climates--the
narrow, shady ones will be given the preference. Only one vehicle can
travel in a street, and for this reason traffic passes through one and
returns by another. They are one-way streets. Two persons moving in
opposite directions can just manage to pass without one of them
stepping off the walk. Rio de Janeiro is the second largest city in
South America, and good management of this tropical center was in
evidence.
Looking down Avenue Central, one of the principal thoroughfares,
composed largely of business buildings, a scene of architectural
beauty is revealed rivaling any metropolis in the world. No street
cars run on this avenue, but brightly painted, well designed, small
motor 'buses are in use. The artistic effect reflected by the
arrangement of lights and trees is in keeping in every detail with
the admirable designs of the buildings on each side. A municipal
theater on this street, prominent by its striking exterior
ornamentation, together with handsome government buildings, add
greatly to the attractiveness of Avenue Central. To an American the
street view at the head not only equals the lower portion, but is
enhanced, for there stands the Monroe Palace, a memorial to James
Monroe, whose name is immortalized as the father of the Monroe
Doctrine, serving as a fitting cap-sheaf, and at the same time
infusing patriotic sentiment to the harmonious foreground and
attractive environments. From Monroe Palace, which is shaded by trees
growing in a beautiful park at the side, Avenue Central verges into a
long boulevard, built alongside the walled harbor, fringed in places
with rows of palm trees, fifty to sixty feet high; under tropical
verdured hills, with parks, flowers and shade trees bordering the
thoroughfare to the shore of the Atlantic Ocean.
This palm tree of Rio is the highest we have seen either of
nut-bearing or non-nut-bearing species. The trunks are smooth,
straight and round, free of limbs, and gradually taper to their full
height, where a circle of fronds branch broadly from every side.
Standing between these tropical, sentinel-like columns, high above the
spectator will be seen an arch formed of long, broad leaves. As some
of these double rows of palms extend for considerable distances, this
light-green archway grows more enchanting as, down the pillared vista,
the fringed-frond arcade gradually lowers and contracts until the
trees converge into a narrow bower. The symmetrical finish to the
towering palms of Rio will remain in one's mind long after other of
Nature's masterpieces, of equal merit but differing in form, will have
been forgotten.
American money and enterprise have added much to the modern public
utilities of Rio, for the street car and lighting systems are headed
by Americans. "Bond" is the name for street cars here. To raise
capital to construct the system bonds were issued, and as the word
bond was much used before construction began, the Brazilians, when the
cars started running, called them "bonds."
The Portuguese language is used in the Brazilian republic. But what a
mixed population these Brazilians are! Most of them are dark-skinned
and the greater number are black. From observation, there seems to be
little or no distinction between the races. Yet this race possesses a
knowledge rarely displayed by others in erecting buildings suited in
every respect for business purposes, and in giving them an artistic
finish at the same time. Immigrants from many countries have settled
in this republic during the last decade.
European customs are strongly in evidence, the most noticeable being
lounging about cafés. The habit of living on the sidewalk and in the
street outside of cafés is the same here as that which strikes one as
being strange on his first visit to Paris and other places in
Continental Europe. One often has to maneuver his way through little
iron-legged tables and chairs, used for refreshments. Some of the
patrons are seen sipping black coffee from cups no larger than half an
eggshell; others may be found drinking vari-colored liquids, of which
there is a great variety, and many will have cigarettes between their
lips or between their fingers. Still one cannot fail to note the
improvement these cafés are on the American saloon. There are no back
door entrances to these places; no front doors closed; no
curtains--everything open and above board. And, as with Europeans,
seldom is a person seen intoxicated or disorderly. Prosperity is
suggested by crowded cafés, for refreshments in Rio are expensive.
Women seem to have an easy time in Brazil, in the capital, at least,
for men are seen looking after rooms in hotels, sweeping,
dusting--doing general housework.
Two meals a day seem to be all the Brazilians desire. A cup of coffee
is taken early in the morning, as the regular time for breakfast is
from 11 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. Dinner is served from 5 to 7:30 o'clock in
the evening.
Everything one buys in the Brazilian metropolis is expensive.
Manufactures are few--almost everything is imported, and the customs
duty is exorbitant. Street car fare, even, is double that charged in
most large cities. Small articles costing from ten to fifteen cents
in the United States cost a milrei in Rio. Very few things can be had
for less than 33 cents. Soda water and other soft drinks generally
cost from 9 to 12 cents.
The Portuguese money system--reis and milreis--is that of Brazil. The
value of a milrei in American money is 33 cents, and a rei is equal to
one-thirtieth of a cent. In financial figures the dollar mark is used
to denote milreis, but is placed between the figures instead of in
front--thus: 10$000. Money is on the decimal system, 1,000 reis making
a milrei.
One unaccustomed to Portuguese money is apt to feel perplexed when
presented with a bill for 50 cents. This is how a 50 cent dinner bill
would look: 1$500. The figure 1 represents a milrei--33 cents--and the
500 is 500 reis--half a milrei--16½ cents. One hundred reis is three
cents in American money. Only among the poorer class are coins of less
than 100 reis in use. Paper bills are used for a milrei and larger
sums. The coins are mostly of nickel.
At São Paulo, over three hundred miles from Rio, woolen and cotton
mills have been established, and so far have proved a good investment.
English money is represented in this industry. American money and
machinery figure largely in the development of the ore mines of that
large country, so with English capital erecting mills and American
money opening and developing mines business development is assured.
Brazil produces three-quarters of the world's annual consumption of
coffee. Rubber is another staple product of this republic.
The tropical scenery about Rio adds much to the attractiveness of the
capital of Brazil. High hills and mountains almost circle both the
harbor and city, and from these elevated points one looks down through
a dense growth of trees bearing flowers, large blooming vines,
wide-leaved palms, and clumps of high, swaying bamboo--an expansive
botanical garden--on to the thousands of gray houses, with their
red-tiled roofs. Similar scenes and objects, attractive when viewed
from less favored vistas, seen through a tropical foreground, assume
an enchanted charm.
Though very little English printing is done here, a number of good
Portuguese daily newspapers are published, the offices being equipped
with linotype machines, web presses and stereotyping machinery. The
wages paid workers in this trade range from $25 to $30 a week. As
there is little manufacturing in Brazil, and the tariff is so
exorbitant on imports, together with high dwelling rentals, $30 a week
would not be considered good wages in America under such conditions.
One seldom sees a Brazilian carrying bundles in his hands--such as
valises, etc. The people who make their living at that sort of work
carry a strap with them, which is thrown over the shoulder. If two
valises are to be borne, one is placed in front and the other at the
back, each fastened to the end of the strap.
Church bells here, as in the City of Mexico, are ringing in most parts
of the city all the time.
As a rule good photographs exaggerate and flatter objects, but when
looking at a picture associated with Rio de Janeiro, no matter how
pretty and artistic it may appear, one should not discount the picture
as being overdrawn, for Rio would very likely carry away the honors if
entered in a "beautiful city" exhibit.
At Santos, another coffee mart of Brazil, enterprise was in evidence
when our ship drew up to a dock. This was the first dock the ship
pulled alongside of since leaving Southampton, England. Santos is also
the port for São Paulo. From this place we continue southward.
Twelve hundred miles south of Rio, Montevideo, Uruguay, is located at
the delta of the River Plate. This city is the capital of Uruguay.
Most of the ships head for the River Plate, and a great many sailing
southward and through the Straits of Magellan stop at this port,
allowing passengers time to look about the city. The River Plate (La
Plata in Spanish) spreads out at this point to a width of a hundred
miles. A great number of vessels sail up the Plate from time to time,
and it ranks high in the list of waterways of the world.
A glimpse of Montevideo revealed but little difference in architecture
to that of the Spanish style--brick and mortar. Most of the dwelling
houses are but one story in height, the outside steps and stairways,
however, being of white marble, which gives the building a strikingly
clean appearance.
More than one night in this city is required to become used to the
noise made by mouth whistles before a light sleeper can rest. These
are blown by the police, who keep in touch with each other by this
means.
A striking feature of Montevideo to one who has been in Brazil is the
large size of the Uruguayan. Deep-chested, broad-shouldered and of
good height, he appears to possess double the strength of the
Brazilian. While the people are of dark complexion, no blacks are
seen.
The money unit of Uruguay is higher than that of any country in the
world. It is known as the dollar, and its value is $1.04.
Uruguay is a republic, its principal industry being agriculture and
stock raising. Flattering inducements are offered by that government
to immigrants who intend to make their home there. These are in the
nature of giving land to homeseekers, the government even promising to
stock the farms with cattle.
How little some of us who pay but passing attention to sea commerce
know of the tremendous volume of business carried over the world in
vessels, and the long runs made. At Rio de Janeiro I left the ship
that I sailed on from Southampton, England, and after several weeks'
stay in the Brazilian capital continued my journey southward by
another line, tickets being interchangeable. The ship from Rio that
landed Argentine passengers at Montevideo proceeded southward to and
through the Straits of Magellan, to Valparaiso, Chile; up the Pacific
coast as far as Callao, the port for Lima, Peru, stopping at several
places between, distributing passengers and cargo at each. From among
the passengers Brazil, Uruguay, Argentine, Chile, Paraguay, Bolivia
and Peru received its quota. From England to Callao six weeks' time
was required to make the voyage. The manner in which these merchantmen
slip in and out of bays, deep and shallow harbors, crawl up rivers and
down again--into commercial nooks of every character--reminds one of
the unexpected places to which the sun so often finds its way.
Passengers from Great Britain seemed to be in the majority of those
traveling south of the equator. A greater number of men than women are
always to be found, though almost every ship carries young women who
will be on their way to meet and marry their fiancés located in the
interior of the South American republics.
Buenos Aires, capital of the Argentine republic, the New York of South
America, is located 124 miles up the River Plate. Many entertain the
opinion, gathered from newspaper accounts, that, 6,000 miles south of
New York, there is a good-sized city--Buenos Aires. But what a
difference there is between reading about something and seeing it! It
is said of a visitor that "a look at New York will knock his eye out,"
and to travel through the busy waterway of the big harbor of this
South American metropolis, and look through the dense thicket of
masts, spars, shrouds, ropes, pennants, flags and many-colored funnels
from ships that stretch for miles about the outer and inner harbors,
will surely cause one's eye to bulge with astonishment. Such an influx
of merchantmen visit this city at certain periods of the year that,
for as long as three and four weeks, ships loll at anchor in the outer
harbor before dock room can be made for unloading their cargoes. The
dock system is good; and one may gather an idea of the harbor space
available when he learns the River Plate is thirty-five miles wide at
Buenos Aires. Up to the interior of South America ships ply for 1,000
miles on the Plate to the Bolivian border, going up loaded and sailing
away to sundry parts of the world with cargoes submerging the vessels
to their water lines. It seemed that every ship sailing south of the
equator on the western side of the Atlantic Ocean was headed for the
River Plate or for other coast ports of the Argentine.
A more intimate acquaintance with matters will reveal a Briton at the
helm of those ships of industry or the hidden power behind the scene.
Every passenger ship leaving a British port for the River Plate
carries brain and brawn from Great Britain. English money figures
prominently in the industrial advancement of the Argentine, upward of
a billion dollars having been expended in building railways and
developing the lands. The flower of Great Britain will be found
engaged at farming, connected with shipping, railroads, banking, or
other pursuits; and English advice on governmental legislation is
often sought.
In Buenos Aires one finds a busy city of nearly a million and
three-quarters of people, largely of a cosmopolitan character. Sixteen
big, well-printed daily newspapers of evening and morning editions are
published in this commercial center. Besides the native, or Spanish
language, are those printed in the French, Italian, English, Swedish
and other languages. The wages paid artisans engaged in this industry
do not compare with those paid in the United States. The highest paid
for newspaper work is $3.50 a day, but $2.50 is the general daily
wage, paid monthly. Working time is seven and eight hours a day. On
the other hand, living expenses are higher than in American cities.
House rent is very high, and the price of food in ordinary restaurants
is as high, and generally higher, than that charged in similar grade
eating places in American cities. Anent cheap living in other
countries, about which one hears so much in the United States, I have
come to look upon such alleged facts as mythical, for, speaking
generally, I have yet to come across them, and my unsuccessful search
for these "much-cheaper" places has not been from lack of effort.
The Argentine silver dollar is about the same value as the Mexican
dollar--44 cents. Another dollar is in use, however, pertaining to
shipping, customs charges and government tariff of a general nature,
known as the gold dollar, and is worth 96 cents. But it is the 44-cent
dollar that is in general use for retail purposes, wages, etc.
The great number of street cars running through and about the city is
in keeping with the large number of ships seen in the harbor. There
are only two streets in the business district--and for a considerable
distance beyond--on which street cars do not run. Any one who has
lived in busy centers will naturally glance about when crossing
streets, to see if the way is clear. But in Buenos Aires one must be
on the alert for street cars even when walking along walks between
the crossings. The Spanish system of laying out a town--narrow
streets--is the rule in Buenos Aires, in the older section of the
city. To build street car lines in the center of the streets would
shut off vehicular traffic to a great extent, as there is not room for
a truck and car to pass between the car line and the curb at the same
time. The car tracks, therefore, are laid at the side of the street,
by which plan car and vehicular traffic have room to move together,
but only in one direction. To make matters worse, a "trailer," or two
cars, are in use on many of the lines. A sidewalk fender is secured to
the rear platform of the front car and to the forward platform of the
"trailer." This device is formed of strips of steel, bowed half-barrel
shape, which extends over the walk, and is attached to prevent
pedestrians from falling between the cars. The walks also are
proportionately narrow, affording room for only two persons to pass at
the same time. Were a person to become thoughtless or one's mind be
occupied with something foreign to street traffic, while walking at
the outer edge of the walk, or when stepping to one side to allow
another to pass, the half-barrel shaped steel-strip fender is apt to
scrape his leg. Being fearful of coming in contact with the fender at
any moment when walking the streets prompts one to frequently look
behind.
Ten cents (Argentine money) is the fare, equaling four cents in
American money. That sum will carry a passenger from one end of a car
line to the other. By reason of the narrow streets, the two-car
system, and the great number of cars running on the different lines,
tie-ups, turmoil and confusion result. On boarding a car, there is no
telling when one will reach his destination. Improvements, however,
were in progress.
Among the park squares of Buenos Aires (termed "plazas" in
Latin-speaking countries), Plaza de Mayo is perhaps the most popular,
and the first laid out in the Southern metropolis. This plaza is
located at one side of the business center of the city, with
government buildings, hotels, a cathedral, and business houses
fronting the four sides. Attractive palms adorn this pretty resting
place, together with trees, shrubbery, flowers all the year round,
lawns and good walks. Historical memories, dear to the Argentinian,
however, prove of greater interest to the populace than that wrought
by the landscape gardener, as in this section of the city in early
days a decisive battle was fought with Britishers. At one side of the
square stands a memorial shaft that marks the place of surrender to
native forces by the invaders early in the nineteenth century. Within
the city limits are six parks, a number of promenades, thirty-eight
squares, and many public gardens.
Avenida de Mayo is the promenade and show section of Buenos Aires.
Starting at Plaza de Mayo, it extends for nearly a mile to Congreso,
or Congress Hall. The Avenida is one of the two streets on which cars
do not run, and is the only one of fair width in the busy center of
the city. It is paved with asphalt, most of the others being paved
with stone blocks. The best hotels line the Avenida, and the other
buildings are of attractive appearance. Prizes are offered by the city
for the best building designs, and the result of this municipal pride
is frequently observed. Through the Continental custom of blocking the
sidewalks in front of hotels and cafés with tables and chairs one
often finds difficulty in walking. The park system of the city is
creditable, and there are good boulevards in the suburbs.
Here, too, as in Rio de Janeiro, one wonders what women do to occupy
their time, as men make the beds, do the dusting, look after rooms,
sweep the carpets, and do general household duties one is so
accustomed to seeing women perform in North America. Neither is there
any chance for a woman to earn her living working in eating places, as
men seem to have made that source of livelihood a "closed shop" to
women.
[Illustration: PLAZA DE MAYO (top) and AVENIDA DE MAYO (bottom).
BUENOS AIRES, ARGENTINE.]
The clumsy way the Argentinian hitches horses to a cart strikes one as
odd. Carts, instead of trucks, are mostly in use. Often three or four
horses will be attached to a cart--one horse between the shafts, and
one hitched to the cart on each side of the shaft horse. The horse in
the lead will precede the second horse by a space of from three to
five feet, and the second horse will be in advance of the shaft
horse the same distance. How the animals can see is a puzzle, for a
heavy leather fringe reaches from the top of the horse's head to the
nose.
To see men embracing each other, with radiant faces, strikes one from
the North as an unusual custom. While Americans greet with a
handshake, Argentinians embrace.
A novel way to keep "park residents" from occupying seats in some of
the park squares is amusing. The park workers keep moving the seats
from shade to sun, and in the evening and on cloudy days the
"never-works" are told to "move on." But the idlers enjoy sweet
revenge from the fact that no one else has a chance to sit in the
shade in the daytime.
It is hard on one who has been used to three meals a day to practice
the principle of the old adage, "When in Rome, do as the Romans do,"
for only two meals a day are served. Of course, one gets coffee and
rolls for breakfast, but more than that brief menu is unknown to the
Argentinian. The noontime meal is called breakfast, and dinner is
served about 7 o'clock.
Olives, potato chips, peanuts and cigarettes are accessories that go
with refreshments at the "sidewalk dining-rooms" in Buenos Aires.
People may be seen for hours taking sips of liquid from small glasses,
then a potato chip will be snapped in two parts; next a few puffs of a
cigarette; another sip; a peanut shell is then cracked and a kernel
eaten; another sip of liquid; next an olive; more cigarette puffs, and
so on.
Churches and church holidays being numerous, banks are closed on these
occasions for four or five days. What is known as "the American
Church" attracts many of the English-speaking people of that city.
In addition to the Argentine being a grain and cattle country, fruit
trees and grapevines bear heavy yields. Fig and peach trees, which are
numerous, yield abundant good fruit, and some bunches of grapes will
half fill a water bucket.
Gentility is denoted in the Argentine by a long little fingernail. A
fingernail could not grow from one to two inches long on the hand of
one engaged in daily toil, for it would break off. Hence a man with a
long fingernail is included in the list of "retired" citizens.
The dwelling houses and buildings of all sorts are substantially
built. Brick is generally used, and this is covered with several
inches of cement. A courtyard is a feature of all buildings, with a
veranda around, and more rooms open on the court than on the street.
Strong iron bars protect the windows in a great many instances, while
the street doors are very heavy and the locks big and strong. Most of
the dwelling houses are one and two stories in height, but some of the
hotel and business buildings are from three to seven stories high. The
higher buildings are of steel frame construction, which is known as
"the American system."
One will find splendid stores, with goods attractively displayed in
large, wide windows. Church buildings are numerous, and some of the
government buildings large and imposing. Several of the newspapers are
large, newsy and well printed. Linotype machines, web presses--all the
modern machinery in use in the North--will be found in the emporium of
South America.
Portuguese is the language of Brazil, Spanish of the Argentine, and
any one going to these countries to transact business without first
acquiring an inkling of these languages will find himself at a great
disadvantage. The foreigner who can speak both languages will succeed
much better than the person who sticks to his native tongue.
The pickpocket of Buenos Aires is said to be as deft at his trade as
are his clever colleagues in the City of Mexico. The great number of
thieves here may be the reason for the presence of bars in front of
windows, heavy doors and strong locks on buildings.
I had work offered to me at my trade in that city, but one who had
been used to receiving $5 a day does not relish working for $3 a day
for the same duties. Besides, just then the surface of my funds had
been scarcely scratched.
I stopped at a boarding house, paying $2 a day for my keep, occupying
a small room next to the roof, with the only window a little larger
than the port hole of a ship. It behooved one to be promptly in his
seat at the table at mealtime, in order to prevent remonstrance that
would justifiably be made by the inner man until the next meal if the
rules of strict punctuality were not conformed to.
One notices an improvement in the condition of the working people in
both Rio de Janeiro and Buenos Aires over that seen in Lisbon. Poverty
is not a feature of either city, more particularly in Buenos Aires.
My fare from New York to Buenos Aires was $150, and the distance
traveled was 9,852 miles. From New York direct to Buenos Aires is some
6,000 miles, and the fare, third-class, $90, first-class, $240, there
being no second-class rate. Third-class travel is generally
unsatisfactory, and a first-class ticket would have cost more than I
cared to spend on the first leg of my journey. It was a 26-day sail
from Southampton to Buenos Aires.
From Buenos Aires direct across to Capetown, South Africa, is 3,600
miles; by way of Madeira 9,500 miles, and second-class fare $250. This
large sum of money for a ticket set me inquiring if there was no other
way to get to South Africa without traveling nearly half the distance
around the world. A tramp ship going to Asia and stopping at Durban,
South Africa, for bunker coal was one's only hope of avoiding the long
and tedious journey by way of Madeira and the big expense. Four
different captains who had received orders to sail to India did not
want to take a passenger with them, giving as their reason that "it
was against the Act" for tramp ships to carry travelers. The fifth
captain seen, however, agreed to take me across to Durban for $50.
Here was a saving of $200.
That being my first introduction to tramp ship travel, I faced the
voyage with some mistrust, as merchantmen, as a rule, are slow, are
not equipped with wireless telegraphy appliances, and one does not
know what may happen when sailing on the high seas. But the captain
had a good face, which inspired me with confidence.
"Meet me at the British Consul's office to-morrow morning at 10
o'clock," the captain instructed, "for you'll have to ship as an 'A.
B.' (able-bodied seaman), as the 'Act' does not allow us to carry
passengers." "Aye, aye, sir," in sailor style, was my answer to his
instructions.
"How much are you going to pay this man?" asked the consul. "Ten
shillings ($2.40) a month," answered the captain. "A pretty cheap 'A.
B.'" sagely remarked the consul.
"The ship is the one with a red funnel, having a yellow circle around
it close to the top. _Bertha Clay_ is her name. Be aboard at 3 o'clock
at the latest, as we shall sail between 3 and 4," was the final
instruction by the captain.
"You found her all right?" the skipper remarked, when he had come
aboard his ship. A cargo of coal had just been unloaded, and the dust
was an inch deep on the deck.
Later a long blast from the whistle was blown, and in a short time a
rope from a tug had been fastened to the _Bertha Clay_, when she was
slowly drawn from the dock into the narrow channel, which was solidly
walled by ships. We had started for "Darkest Africa."
LEG TWO
CHAPTER I
The evening sun was sinking fast as we were being towed from the inner
harbor of the Argentine metropolis to the broad expanse of
gray-colored water of the River Plate.
Berths were short on the _Bertha Clay_, as the skipper had informed me
before I had boarded his ship I would have to sleep in the chart room.
Charts and other navigating paraphernalia were kept in this room, and
the wheel house was on top of the chart room roof. "Sleep on the couch
to-night," instructed the captain, "and to-morrow I'll try to have a
berth put up for you, which will be more restful."
Next morning found the tramp ship at sea, and behind, in the distance,
the panorama of Montevideo, built on a hillside, was kept in view till
lost to sight. "If you prefer land to sea view," the captain remarked
later, "take a good look yonder, for, with the exception of a small,
uninhabited island 1,200 miles to the east, it is the last land we
shall see until we reach the South African coast. That is Lobos
Island, off the Uruguayan coast, at which we are looking, on which
large numbers of seal assemble."
For six days out from the Plate the weather was summer-like, and these
were pleasantly spent sailing over a smooth sea. Talent is generally
found among sailors, and during the evening some of the crew would
sing, others dance, or boxing bouts would take place; wrestling
matches also were listed among the means of entertainment. Then the
weather changed for the worse, and evening sports were discontinued.
The captain had brought with him eight sheep and a couple of dozen
live chickens, as this ship carried no ice. A sheep was killed each
week, and we had chicken twice weekly, so, between the sheep and the
chickens, we had fresh meat three times a week.
"Keep a look out for Gough Island," suggested the captain to his first
officer, "for it should be in sight by four o'clock." At 4:15 the
mate, opening the door, reported, "Land port abeam, sir!" The island
proved to be a small, rocky and uninhabited sea "oasis." "No more land
until we reach Africa," said the skipper.
The weather had grown stormy, the sea rough, and the _Bertha Clay_ was
rolling badly. She pitched, tossed and rolled so much, in fact, that
the "A. B." had "callouses" on his hips through being slammed back and
forth against the sides of his bunk in the chart room.
Masters of ships usually have an easy time at sea. After they have
left a port, the next few days are occupied in straightening their
accounts. From then on, if the weather be at all favorable, little
work is done save at noontime, when the sun is sighted, by which means
alone the course is maintained. Each officer has a sextant, and from
two to four of these are pointed sunward from ten to fifteen minutes
before the orb has reached the zenith.
A captain of a tramp ship is generally sent from port to port by cable
from the owners to their agent. After the cargo has been unloaded, he
may remain in a port for days, or even weeks, waiting for orders to
sail; but sometimes he has little idea to what part of the world he
may be directed to go. The cable directions may read "Capetown." He
heads his ship for that port, but does not know whence he will be sent
until given instructions by the company's agent on arrival.
The salary paid some sea captains is small, compared to the
responsibility assumed. English and other European shippers pay
masters of tramp ships from $100 to $130 a month, while captains of
American ships receive double that sum. Perquisites, however, may come
to a skipper in connection with his calling. Coal firms generally give
the master of a ship a commission on fuel supplied, and chandlers
maintain the same custom when furnishing stores.
Sea charts with which captains are furnished are marvels of exactness
to a landsman, shoals, rocks, lights, jutting points of land, sea
currents and courses being as clearly marked as are rivers, turnpikes
and railways on land maps. With a good navigator there is little
danger of getting off the course if the sky be clear at noontime. It
is in cloudy periods, when officers cannot get their bearings from the
sun, that danger may occur.
Rainy weather and clear days are the same to a sailor aboard
merchantmen. Though sailors on a tramp ship rest on Sunday, firemen
and officers have no day off. Chinese, Arabs and Indians, the latter
called "lascars," form the crew of a large number of British ships.
From $12 to $16 a month were the wages then paid. On American ships
white sailors receive $40 a month.
Two hundred miles a day was all the _Bertha Clay_ was traveling. Her
smoke funnel was white with salt from the waves of the sea dashing
against it. Some of the officers gathered in the little saloon every
evening, when the hours were whiled away until bedtime by indoor
amusements.
Sea birds of the Southland are different from those that accompany
ships above the equator. No traveler who has the noble albatross as a
companion can refrain from devoting hours and hours of time during a
voyage to watching and admiring the smooth, graceful movements of this
large bird. Sometimes as many as a hundred of these handsome soarers
may be seen encircling the ship for as long as an hour at a time,
seldom flapping their wings. In far southern waters the albatross
generally joins an outgoing vessel from 200 to 400 miles from shore,
and is not seen when a ship is the same distance from land at the
other side of the ocean, although companions for weeks before. Its
color is generally gray and white, but some are snow white, and
occasionally brown-colored ones are seen with the others. These birds
are as large as a swan, some measuring twelve feet from wingtip to
wingtip. But many a sailor has lost his life when falling from a
vessel in parts of the sea inhabited by the albatross. The great bird
will pounce on anything it sees in the water, and, being so strong,
the beak will penetrate the skull of a person at the first attack.
Navigators say that it will not live during transit across the
equator. The mollemoke is another companion sailors have with them
when traveling south of the equator. This bird, while not so large,
resembles the larger specie both in poise and color, and also mingles
with the albatross during a voyage. Feeding on garbage thrown from the
ship seemed to be the chief attraction to the fowl. A very pretty sea
bird seen in far southern waters is the Cape pigeon. The pigeon is as
large as a sea-gull, but in color is like the guinea fowl--spotted
white and black--but of much brighter color. The snowbird is another
companion that follows a ship in the southern seas, but only in
sections where the weather has become chilly. The petrel is also found
in these parts, and still another, a small, dark colored bird, no
larger than a swallow, appears in large numbers at intervals. Sailors
call these Mother Carey's chickens. All these fowl are one's
unfettered companions while traveling through watery Southland, save
an occasional whale. Sea-gulls do not appear.
It was eighteen days since we sailed from Buenos Aires, and twelve of
these had been stormy. The "A. B." was near the captain while he
studied the chart, at 9 o'clock one evening, when the mate came into
the chart room. "Mr. Jones," said the captain to the first officer,
"keep a sharp lookout, as we should see the Cape of Good Hope light by
10 o'clock, or thereabouts." "Aye, aye, sir," he replied, as he passed
out, and then scaled the ladder to the bridge. The sea had calmed as
we neared the African coast. Less than an hour later the skipper and
the "A. B." were chatting, when the door opened. The mate, putting his
head between the door and jamb, in sea manner, announced: "Flash light
port abeam, sir!" It was the Cape of Good Hope light. We had reached
another continent--the African.
For five more days we sailed in sight of the green, treeless hills of
South Africa, using glasses frequently, as may be imagined, eager to
see houses, cattle and grain fields. Finally we came in sight of the
Bluff, the beacon of Port Natal. Soon we were opposite the entrance
channel to the harbor, when anchor was cast. Shortly after a harbor
boat was seen coming through the channel. Later a rowboat, manned by
Zulus, headed toward the _Bertha Clay_, in which was a white man
dressed in a white suit. The captain shouted to the man in white,
asking if we could get into the harbor before night. It was then
nearly sunset. The answer from the rowboat was, "I'm coming." This was
the skipper's first trip to a country where white clothes were worn,
and he mistook the man in the rowboat to be the port doctor. One
unfamiliar with customs in that part of South Africa--or, in fact,
anywhere--would never dream of seeing a grizzled sea pilot dressed in
an immaculate white suit of clothes. It proved to be the man who was
to steer our ship safely to harbor. "All well?" he inquired--the usual
salute--when his rowboat had reached speaking distance of the tramp
ship. "All well," replied the master of the _Bertha Clay_. When the
pilot had drawn alongside our vessel, he began to wriggle up the rope
ladder at the side of the ship, the usual means of boarding and
disembarking under such circumstances.
We anchored in the harbor as twilight was hastily changing to
darkness. "Supper is ready," announced the steward when the anchor
chain was silenced. As ship food had no charm for the "A. B." when
land food was available, he hurriedly made steps for the ladder at the
side. This settled matters concerning eating supper aboard ship that
evening, as the captain shouted, "Wait." Soon the skipper also started
down the ladder, and the master of the _Bertha Clay_ and his passenger
had dinner ashore.
We had stepped foot on Leg Two.
The captain wished the "A. B." to return to the ship and sleep in his
recently vacated bunk in the chart room that night--"the last night,"
as he put it--but my feeling of relief at the thought of not having
longer to occupy that "cabin," in which the bedclothing had often been
made damp through waves dashing against and over the ship, together
with several inches of water at times covering the floor, might be
compared to those that one would experience on leaving a "house of
trouble."
"You'll have to come to the port office in the morning and get paid
off and discharged," remarked the captain, after we had finished
eating the best meal we had had for nearly a month. Meeting at the
time designated, the formality of paying off was gone through with, in
accordance with maritime law. The "A. B." was handed $2.40 for his
"work" during the voyage, but the money did not reach his pockets, as
it was handed back to the genial skipper. The provisions of the "Act"
had been complied with--in name.
The _Bertha Clay_, with her bunkers full of coal, left the following
day for Cochin-China--6,000 miles further east--thirty days' more
sailing.
"Sixty cents a day" (the minimum legal charge for a person's food on
English ships) "is all it will cost you if you will come with us,"
inducingly spoke the captain to his discharged "able seaman," while
shaking hands warmly, a short time before the _Bertha Clay_ sailed out
of the harbor. The skipper's generous offer was declined.
The passenger left behind sought the highest point of the seashore to
watch the tramp ship sail on her initial stretch to Asia. She dipped
her nose in the sea and wobbled and pitched as she had done for
twenty-three days during her former voyage. It was not long before
only an outline of the hulk was in view. Then that disappeared
altogether, when all that remained in sight was the smoke funnel. Soon
that also had faded to but a speck, and a short time later the _Bertha
Clay_ became hidden in a hazy horizon.