It is 9.45 pm. We have just this moment come along the quay-side at
Bergen. We are not to land until to-morrow morning. The crossing has
been wonderful; as calm as a lake the whole way.
I have a cabin for three all to myself, there are very few people on
board. It is as comfortable as a yacht. The only fellow traveller with
whom we have spoken is an American, calling himself Comrade Costello. He
reports for the Federated Press. A very keen journalist, typically
American, and one who does not allow the grass to grew under his feet.
For an hour this afternoon I acted as interpreter between him and
Kameneff. I had to ask about strange people and strange things, that I
knew nothing about. I had not even heard of Debs before.
I expect that I shall have a pretty good knowledge of all the
Revolutionary Leaders in all countries before long.
Kameneff had a cigarette in my cabin this evening, and we discussed
Philosophy, Religion, and Revolution. It surprised me very much that he
does not believe in God. He says that the idea of God is a domination
and that he resents it, as he resents all other dominations. He talked
nevertheless with great admiration of the teachings of Christ, Who
demanded poverty and equality among men, and Who said that the rich man
had no more chance of the Kingdom of Heaven than a camel of passing
through a needle’s eye.