Before the following Spring term was half ended I began to plan my
second trip to Europe.
The work on the ship the second trip over was practically the same, but
I had a number of experiences which were new to me.
On this trip there were in all thirteen cattlemen on board, eight
college fellows, the foreman and four hoboes. There was "Frenchy," our
foreman, an excitable man with an irritable temper, who did not know
that men were not to be abused, but in some cases be coaxed.
Another member of the bunch was "Smithy," a little clumsily built
fellow, with red whiskers and cross eyes, who had driven eight horses
to one of Sells Brothers' Circus wagons for a number of years, and who
was in every respect a typical hobo.
Then there was "Rates," a good sort of fellow he was, and at times I
really felt sorry for him. He was the hardest worker in the lot and
often did twice his share when the other fellows were sick. "Rates"
had been a cowboy in Dakota for a number of years, and enlisting in
the United States Army while there, he went to the Philippines as a
cavalryman, where he remained two years. With us, he was making his
first trip across. From London I learned he went to Capetown, South
Africa.
The greatest character on board was old Cole. In all my life I have
never seen a man his equal in many respects. Medium in size with brawny
arms and an over-developed muscular neck, he reminded one of a huge
beast, muscles superbly developed and mind untrained. Cole was some
forty years of age, and a boaster from the word "Go." At the early age
of ten he ran away from his parents in Norway, and secured passage
on a sail boat bound for Odessa on the Black Sea. I think him one of
the most interesting talkers, from a certain standpoint, I have ever
conversed with. At times he would charm me for hours with his tales of
adventure by sea and land. I became so intensely interested in this man
that at night, when all had retired save the watchman, I would sit with
him on deck for hours and hear him spin his tales of the past. Cole had
been around the world several times and had visited every continent on
the globe. In the heart of India he had served as a lackey to a very
rich man; in Australia he herded sheep for two seasons; in Japan he was
hostler for an American planter; in South Africa he mined, and in South
America, at Buenos Ayres, he worked in the shipyards. Thirty years of
his life he had spent in travel. Whiskey and tobacco he craved.
Old man Miller was our night watchman. He was a good old fellow, who
did his duty and never had much to say. A baker in Baltimore, he became
tired of his occupation, and feeling need of a change, he had sought a
cattle boat for recreation.
The ninth day out a terrible mishap came near ending the life of one
of our comrades. On this particular afternoon it was raining and the
sea was running high. We were all seated in the engine room, hovering
around the steam pipes, endeavoring to dry our clothes and warm our
chilled bodies, when a shrill cry was faintly heard from the fore
part of the boat. Thinking that perhaps trouble had befallen some
one, we rushed in the direction from which the cry seemed to have
come. Arriving at the door of the "foc's'le," we peeped in, and there,
lying on the floor prostrate and apparently dead, was Cole, with blood
streaming from his mouth and nostrils. Over him stood a fearless and
well developed young fellow, whose name was Max Goodman, with fist
clenched and face badly bruised. When I saw the bloody sight I was
dumbfounded, for I feared that Cole would never again see the light of
day.
Goodman was considered one of the best young college pugilists in the
South, and I realized from experience the force of his blows. He was
one of our star football players, and we had been on the 'varsity
eleven together. Half blinded as he was by passion, I took him by
the arm, and led him to the engineer's stateroom, where matters were
explained.
It seems that Cole had attempted Goodman's life with a pitchfork. On
finding that he was unable to protect himself against this deadly
weapon, Goodman retreated to a corner, where he secured a bucket, which
he threw at Cole's head, causing him to drop the fork. Goodman then
seizing his opportunity, charged on Cole and hit him squarely between
the eyes. From the effects of the blows, poor Cole was confined to the
ship's infirmary with a broken jaw and a badly bruised face.
Seventeen days after embarking from America we steamed into the mouth
of the Thames, and never was there a happier bunch of American college
boys together. When we stepped ashore that most beautiful Sunday
afternoon we were no longer cattlemen, but young Americans in Europe to
see, hear and learn all we possibly could.
Landing at Alexander dock, about twenty miles below London proper, we
made our way rapidly to the nearest station of the elevated railway
which runs parallel with the Thames, and boarded the first train going
to the Fenchurch Street Station. Engaging two four-wheelers, we were
soon driven into the square of the great and lavishly furnished Hotel
Cecil, where we registered.
Hubert Collins, a university man who was on this trip, and I left
London for Liverpool, where we went aboard the steamship "Oravia,"
which was to transport us to Lisbon, Portugal.
We glided smoothly out of the harbor and on our way to Portugal, which
we so much desired to see, and from which point we could easily make
our way across the frontier and into old historic Spain, where Don
Quixote made his daring raid upon the windmills.
Before we had been an hour out of port we selected our bunks and were
comfortably seated in our new quarters. The first day out we made the
acquaintance of most of our fellow passengers, and indeed we found them
surprisingly agreeable.
Leaving Liverpool on a Thursday, we made our first stop at La
Pallice, the seaport of La Rochelle, a town of about twenty thousand
inhabitants. Arriving at eight-thirty in the morning, we boarded a car
which conveyed us to La Rochelle, at which place we spent the entire
day in sight-seeing. We made our lunch on good French wine and sweet
cakes.
We returned to our ship about six o'clock that afternoon, tired and
footsore from our day's tramp over the city.
That night our ship remained in port, and never shall I forget the
Frenchman who mistook me for a sailor and offered to tip me with fifty
centimes for pointing out to him the engine room of the ship. The next
morning we steamed away, and Monday we made our second stop at Coronna,
Spain, where Sir John Moore and his English soldiers were defeated by
the Spanish troops.
Thursday we were scheduled to anchor at the port of Lisbon. I sincerely
hoped that nothing would happen to delay us, for the novelty of the
trip had worn away and we were anxious to get ashore again.
At the last stop we took on board two hundred dirty, foul-smelling
Spanish immigrants bound for South America, and they kept things hot
with their hand-organs and bagpipes. They never tired of dancing, for
they kept it up from morning till night.
There were several beautiful Spanish girls on board, and they danced
most gracefully. I hardly think any one can equal the grace of a
Spanish dancer.
We arrived in the picturesque natural harbor of Lisbon in the morning
and were soon bidding farewell to the many friends that we had made
during our week's voyage.
In Lisbon we set about to find a suitable hotel, and this we were not
long in doing, for the Hotel Camoes had been recommended to us by the
steward of the "Oravia." Here we found everything to our liking.
On arriving at Lisbon I soon found a land far different in customs from
any of the other European countries, for everything at first sight
appears purely Oriental.
I have traveled in many countries of Europe, but I must confess that
none struck me with such simplicity of customs.
Lisbon, like Rome, is built upon several hills, and on first sight one
would fancy it a city void of life and pleasure, but upon investigation
this opinion is quickly changed. The population of Lisbon is some
forty thousand inhabitants. The streets are well kept, and the street
car system is surprisingly good. While there, we saw many things of
interest, among them being the King's palace and beautifully kept
parks, city waterworks, said to be among the finest in the world; Black
Horse Square, the Cave of the Dead, magnificent churches, and massively
handsome government buildings.
There we witnessed our first bull fight, on a Sunday, and never shall
I forget how scorchingly hot I became while occupying my one peseta
(15 cents) seat. I later learned that there is a radical distinction
between the Portuguese and the Spanish bull fights, the latter being
far more cruel.
By good fortune we had the pleasure of seeing the King and Queen with
their young son as they drove from the palace.
Two days we spent on a visit to the town of Bremen, which is but a
short distance from Lisbon. There is constructed one of the finest of
the world's cathedrals, in which rests the remains of Vasco Da Gama. We
saw also the point from which he set out upon his voyage to discover a
shorter route to India.
In Portugal one feels the spirit of the South. The men are exceedingly
small in stature, their hair black and their eyes quick in movement.
The women, like many of the Oriental people, are beautiful in girlhood
and young womanhood, but the hot, scorching sun soon dries them into
old and ugly women. Even the women of the peasant class are remarkably
beautiful, with their dark, bewitching eyes, long black silky hair and
trim figures. The peddling on the streets is done by women. They wear
large ear-rings and big bracelets around ankles and wrists. Their dress
is of the simplest, and they wear neither shoes nor hats. On their
heads they carry large flat baskets, loaded with their wares, and on
every street one can hear them crying their goods and wares to the
passing public.
The principal beasts of burden in Portugal are donkeys and oxen. Of
course, horses and mules are used, but they are for the richer classes.
The wagons are pulled by oxen, sometimes four and six in hand. One car
line in Lisbon is operated alone by mules and oxen. Those cars operated
by electricity are generally patronized by the better living class,
while the cars operated by mules are patronized by the poorer class.
The shaggy ill-kept donkeys present a comical sight, with great big
baskets securely tied on either side. The load often looks larger than
the donkey. Once while tramping in Southern Portugal I saw a little
donkey about the size of a mastiff, plodding along with two cages of
chickens on either side and a woman and her babe comfortably seated on
the donkey's back en route to market.
One thing peculiarly common in Portugal and foreign to many other lands
is the way in which the dairies are conducted. In the stores along the
main thoroughfares milch cows are stalled, and when a customer arrives
the proprietor simply milks the amount called for fresh from the cow.
By this means the buyer is sure of the purity of the milk.
Soon tiring of Portugal and its oddities, we secured tickets for
Madrid, but before reaching there we had a rare experience.
Leaving Lisbon about 9:30 we arrived at a station,--Baylo,--where
we should have changed cars. There the train remained some minutes
and during the wait we purchased two bottles of wine and four loaves
of bread. The train moved slowly off, so being hungry, we settled
comfortably back into our seats and soon fell to.
As we were preparing to take our afternoon smoke, the conductor came
around to collect the tickets. On looking at ours he told us we were on
the wrong train. By this time we were some twenty-five miles from Baylo.
At the next station we were put off by the conductor, and from signs
and words obtained from a Portuguese-English conversation book, we
learned that we would have to remain in that forsaken spot till 11:30
that night. It was then three o'clock in the afternoon. On discovering
the costly mistake, we both cursed our ill luck. The worst of it was,
we only had between us three hundred rois, thirty cents in Uncle Sam's
coin.
Two days later found us in Madrid, tired, dusty and hungry. We soon
found a suitable hotel and made ourselves comfortable.
It would be utterly impossible for me to write of all the things of
interest which we saw while in Madrid, the capital of Spain. The first
day there we spent in resting, but after that we were on the go from
morning till night, for we were out to see all there was to be seen.
We visited the Royal Palace, which is said to be next in grandeur to
the Czar's Winter Palace at St. Petersburg. This palace is superb
in architecture and is magnificently furnished. The royal stables
contain hundreds of beautiful horses of all description and carriages
of every style. The most interesting part of the palace is the Royal
Armory, in which we saw the old but well preserved armor of Christopher
Columbus and the war implements and armor of Charles V. In this armory
the weapons of all the great Spanish warriors are preserved, always
carefully guarded.
The Art Gallery of Madrid is second to none. There are collected the
masterpieces of the world's greatest artists, not only of Spain, but of
other countries.
The arena for the bull fights is most handsomely constructed, and
there we had the pleasure of witnessing our second bull fight. These
fights are held every Sunday, and quite often on Wednesdays. At this
particular fight there were killed three horses and several bulls. It
was far more cruel than the fight we had witnessed at Lisbon.
We made Madrid our headquarters while in Spain and took excursions out
to Toledo, the Escurial, Bungos and Granada. These places proved of as
much interest to us as did Madrid.
In Madrid the main thoroughfares are kept surprisingly clean, while the
back streets are filthy. Several nights we spent theatre-going and saw
some of Spain's celebrities.
In the day time, between the hours of eleven and four, the streets are
practically deserted, for the sun is so hot that work is impossible.
Later in the afternoons the boulevards and squares are crowded.
The Spaniard, the most courteous of all men, is insanely fond of bull
fights, cigarettes, coffee, wine and women. The drinking taverns are
always crowded in the evening with customers, who sit and sip their
strong black coffees and puff their cigarettes, while they chat of
dancers and matadores.
A thing most peculiar to Spain is the large amount of counterfeit money
which is in circulation. Whenever one purchases any thing and tenders a
coin in payment, the shopkeeper invariably tests the purity of the coin
on a sounding slate.
From Madrid we journeyed to San Sebastian, where we visited the King's
summer palace, and saw his Majesty. We happened here on a Sunday, and
we did not miss the opportunity of seeing another bull fight.
San Sebastian is the most fashionable watering-place in Spain and
there all the nobles and wealthy people of Portugal and Spain spend the
hot season. Here we spent several days in preparing for our journey
on foot across the Pyrenees Mountains. I had always wanted to cross
the Alps or Pyrenees on foot, so when the opportunity was presented, I
surely was not going to let it go by.
Securing heavy walking shoes, suitable clothing, heavy walking sticks,
we boarded the train at San Sebastian and alighted at the foot of the
hills, where the road starts its winding way across the rugged slopes.
Our only arms consisted of a couple of daggers, which we purchased at
Toledo and a thirty-eight Colt's revolver.
These lofty mountains and rugged foothills are inhabited by a lawless
and murderous set of treacherous Spaniards, who strike whenever they
have an opportunity. Not heeding wild stories, we set out upon a
journey calculated to test to the utmost the metal of your companion
and one's endurance.
The first day carried us into the heart of the wilderness, where on
every side one could see nothing but lofty crags covered with large
boulders and shaggy grass.
[Illustration: "The First Day carried us into the Heart of the
Wilderness where on Every Side one could see Nothing but Lofty Crags."
(_Wanderlust._)]
We employed a guide for a day to conduct us safely to the beaten trail,
and four days later we were safely settled in the little village of
Blanto, on the frontier of France.
Although we had put up with a great many hardships, we enjoyed our
tramp, and we only wished our journey had occupied twenty days instead
of five, for we felt better each succeeding day, tramping over the
rocky pathways. Two nights were spent on the ground under the shadow
of the cork trees, while the other nights were spent in huts along the
way.
During the tramp our food consisted, principally, of bread, goat's milk
and fruit.
One night while sleeping out we were alarmed by the approach of some
sort of big animal, which persisted on making our acquaintance. By
firing the revolver several times we succeeded in frightening it away,
after which we went back to sleep, only to be awakened in the early
morning by a Spanish goat herder, who insisted that we had killed one
of his dogs. The dead animal proved to be our visitor of the previous
night.
At Blanto we made preparation for our railway journey to Paris.
August found us in the gay city of Paris, where we chanced to meet
again two of our friends of the cattle boat, Roy Saunders and Philip
McDuff.
We arrived in Paris about seven o'clock in the morning. Engaging a
four-wheeler we were driven to our hotel, which was situated about a
block from the Champs Elysees, the most beautiful boulevard in that
wonderful city. After enjoying a good breakfast we repaired to our
room, where we discussed the situation, and, I regret to say, it proved
a serious one.
We found that our friends, McDuff and Saunders, had spent all the money
they had, with the exception of a few francs. Hubert Collins had about
enough to carry him to New York, and I had something like seventy-five
francs (fifteen dollars). Three days later Collins left Paris for
London, from which place he sailed for New York.
We three other fellows remained in Paris, expecting money by every
mail, but we had to content ourselves with mere expectations, for
letters containing the money never came. We soon realized that our
situation was becoming a desperate one, and that we must do something,
for our little supply of funds was diminishing daily.
Finally we decided on advertising in the Paris edition of the _New York
Herald_, thinking that perhaps this would bring us an opportunity for
some sort of work. Our advertisement read:
Three young Americans, university education, desire position doing
anything. Address X Y Z, _New York Herald_.
We paid for the insertion of our advertisement in three editions and
departed the office feeling that this would surely bring us something.
Three days later we received a letter, which read,
X Y Z, Herald.
GENTLEMEN:
Noticed your advertisement in the _Herald_ this morning and would
be glad to see you at my rooms this evening between hours of 6 and
8.
Very truly yours,
K. M. POE.
In reading this our hearts beat with joy, for we anticipated great
things. McDuff planned keeping his position for six months, so that he
could learn to speak the French language. I readily decided to do the
same, while Saunders expressed his desire of working only long enough
to get money to pay his hotel bill and secure a ticket to London.
At the time appointed we called at the gentleman's rooms, which were
in the Standard Hotel, and he proved to us a notable disappointment.
He proposed to teach us a game by which we could easily break the bank
at Monte Carlo and thereby win our fortunes. He said, of course we
would have to begin with about a thousand francs. This gentleman, as he
termed himself, proved such a disappointment to us that we decided to
have some amusement, so we praised his scheme highly and advised him
that we would certainly return the following evening.
Several days later we left for London, and you may be sure we did not
keep our appointment with the would be prince of schemers.
Paris is pre-eminently the city of pleasures. In the gay summer
season one can see hundreds of tourists strolling along the beautiful
boulevards. At nights the principal ways are brilliantly lighted,
and in passing by one sees scores of people in the fascinating cafés
enjoying the refreshing night air and the merry music as they sit and
sip.
The Champs Elysees at night is one great highway of pleasure. On either
side are theatres and drinking gardens, and from every direction one
hears the gay music of the orchestras.
One day while walking through one of the many beautifully kept parks
we met a party of five young American students. They had ridden on
bicycles from London to Paris and had stopped for a rest of several
days, after which they intended making their way into Germany. These
fellows were all members of the same class at Harvard and were touring
Europe on their bicycles.
At our hotel we only secured breakfast and dinner. Lunch usually
consisted of cheap French wine and a loaf of bread on one of the penny
seats in the park.
We kept up our bluff remarkably well at the hotel, and, honestly, the
landlady never even suspected that we were stranded. If she had known
it, most probably she would have demanded pay in advance, but we talked
so cleverly of how we enjoyed the theatre, how delightful the drive
was, and such things that she never had a suspicion of our financial
predicament.
One morning I came near getting myself into trouble for drenching a
vegetable peddler with water. It seemed to me that he had been standing
in the streets below for an hour, crying out his vegetables. I wanted
to go to sleep but couldn't with all that racket going on below, so I
filled the bowl with soapy water and dashed it all over him. When the
water drenched him he yelled like an Apache Indian, and before long a
policeman came up to investigate the source of such an act. Of course
we were innocent! having just awakened from a sound slumber.
One of the most pleasant surprises of my stay in Paris was while
waiting at the mail window of Thomas Cook and Son for the long expected
coin, when whom should I see but my old comrade Goodman, vainly
endeavoring to gain some information from a chesty policeman. Goodman
did not see me and I had some real pleasure in watching him attempting
to converse in French, when the only French he could muster to his
service was, "Oui, Monsieur," and "Parlez vous Français?" Stepping up
to him I laid my hand on his shoulder and said, "Pardon me, sir, but
are you an American?"
Never have I seen one's face so radiant with joy and happiness. We soon
got together and began to arrange and plan for our future maintenance
and support, Goodman being in about the same condition, financially as
the rest of us.
One who has never been in a large foreign city, far from friends and
home, cannot comprehend the absolute feebleness, helplessness and
lonesomeness, which we four fellows experienced for days.
The last night of the miserable days which we spent in Paris came very
near terminating disastrously for Goodman and myself. It was a night at
one of the largest dance halls in the Latin Quarter, the most dangerous
portion of all Paris. Goodman and I paid our admission fee, one franc
each, and immediately began looking around, hoping that we might find
some one who would be so charitable as to present us to some of the
charming dancers.
For a while it seemed that our sole enjoyment would come from looking
on, but presently, much to our pleasurable surprise, I saw a young
Frenchman whom we had met a few days previous while visiting at the
University of Paris. This young fellow with his delightful manner
proved quite a help, introducing us to several captivating belles, who,
to our surprise could two-step and waltz exquisitely. Here we enjoyed
ourselves till the early morning hours and when we were ready to
depart, much to our chagrin and disappointment, we found that we were
totally lost, traffic having long since ceased.
Our first thought was to find a policeman, but we found that officers
were rare in that particular quarter, which added to the horror of the
situation. In the hazy distance we caught the glimmer of lights which
we instinctively followed, only to find, too late, that they led in the
very opposite direction from which we desired to go.
I then suggested to Goodman that we had better look for a four-wheeler,
but he stubbornly insisted that we continue on foot, and in less than
five minutes we found ourselves beset by thieves and murderers of that
treacherous quarter.
At first we pretended not to understand what this sudden and unexpected
demonstration meant, but we were not long in learning that it meant
injury, robbery, outrage, and probably murder. Immediately Goodman
delivered one of his right hand swings straight for the jaw of the
foremost thug, and he fell as if stricken by an electric shock. In the
meantime both of my arms were pinioned behind me by two husky ruffians.
Goodman attempted to rescue me, and received a blow on the arm which
deprived him temporarily of its use. The ruffians were dismayed at
Goodman's force of arm and physique and turned their attention toward
me. I called out, "Run, Max, run." Goodman was loath to leave me, but
he soon took to his heels when two men of his size advanced towards him.
[Illustration: "Immediately Goodman Delivered one of His Right Hand
Swings Straight for the Jaw."
(_Wanderlust._)]
They dragged me into a dark alley nearby and there they cursed and
swore on finding that I was penniless, with the exception of about two
measley francs. The ruffians seemed fearfully disappointed in that
they found such a small mite upon my person, for most foreigners have
the erroneous impression that all Americans are millionaires. Foolish
idea. They seemed to think that Max would return with help, and, after
administering several hard kicks and knocks over my head and on my
body, I was left to the mercies of Providence, bleeding, dazed and
semi-conscious. I staggered to my feet and attempted to find the way
to my hotel and my friends. Never again do I expect to feel as I did
that morning as I sneaked into the hotel, after having spent such a
miserable and perilous night wandering forlornly through the still and
desolate avenues of the Latin Quarter.
Realizing that something must be done, we managed to secure enough
money to pay our board bill and purchase tickets to London. That night
we bade farewell to Paris, and started for London, where we arrived at
an early hour, without a blooming sou in our pockets. We finally found
a boarding place and spent the morning in sleeping. In the afternoon
we set out and pawned what little jewelry we had with us, with which I
secured food.
Goodman and I had been thinking of going to Odessa, on the Black Sea,
and now that we were desperate we decided to make the trip, if there
was any possible way.
After we had been in London some days, we went down on the Thames where
the big ships were docked, and finding one ready to set out for Odessa,
we stole aboard and stowed away in the bottom of the ship, where no one
was likely to discover us.
When well at sea, we intended coming out and offering to do whatever
we were ordered. Even hard work on a ship was better than starving in
London, for sailors are usually given potatoes three times a day, while
a penniless man in London knows not whence comes the next meal.
In the bottom of the dark, dirty, foul-smelling ship we lay for hours,
thinking every moment that she would start, but to our disappointment
it was another half day before she set out on her voyage. All this
time we had been without a single mouthful of food or a drop of water.
We became desperate and crawled out of our hiding place to the deck,
where we were soon spied and despite our pleading and begging, we were
ordered ashore.
The ship was now slowly wending its way down the Thames, with the pilot
skilfully guiding it through the deep channels. On either side were the
banks dotted with the little huts of fishermen and sailors. We were so
feeble from our fast and from lying in that cramped position for hours
that neither of us could barely move, and when we were told we would
have to swim ashore I almost fainted. I had never had much practice in
swimming and to undertake such a task at this time seemed suicidal, for
I knew that I was too weak to hold out.
The sailors crowded about us, and our delay seemed to excite the anger
of the officer who was ordering us around. He shouted that if we didn't
make haste he would have us lowered over the side of the ship by ropes.
Realizing that the only thing to do was to swim, we climbed down the
rope ladder on the starboard side. Max went first and when at the
end of the ladder he leaped into the river and began swimming toward
the shore. I yelled at him to wait for me, but he kept on, seemingly
frightened out of his wits. Now that it was up to me I climbed slowly
down to the bottom of the ladder, and there I clung hesitating. What
would it be, suicide or murder? I felt that if I should attempt to swim
I would surely drown. Yet if I did not the sailors threatened to throw
me over.
While clinging to the end of the ladder it was jerked violently out of
my hold, and, losing my balance, I plunged backward into the river. As
I fell I heard the wild, hideous shouts of the sailors above who were
leaning over the deck rail.
It is a well known fact that one can be drawn under a ship by the
suction and cut to pieces by the propeller. Naturally, this thought
flashed into my mind as I sank into the water. It seemed to me that my
time had come, but I was not one to give up all hope. When I came up
again to the water's surface I beat desperately and frantically to keep
from going under the second time. Fighting for safety, I began swimming
toward the bank, some hundred yards away. Before I had gone ten yards,
I realized my wet clothes were hindering my progress. I fought with the
current more desperately than ever, for the sounds of "Help! Help!"
were ringing in my ears.
I reached the bank safely, but so worn out that I could scarcely drag
my limp body to dry land. Looking over my shoulder, I saw poor old Max
lying on the opposite bank, and when I waved my drenched handkerchief
to him, he saluted by a wave of the arm.
Fortunately the sun was shining, and on the grassy banks of the Thames
we sprawled in the warm rays while our drenched garments were being
dried. When our clothes had been sufficiently dried we proceeded up the
banks opposite each other, and it was not long before we were gripping
hands.
The following day while strolling along the Strand we met a couple of
friends, Bob Morris and Nelson, both of Georgetown University. These
fellows had just arrived in London and from them we secured a small
loan, which was, at least enough to feed us for several days to come.
A few days later our troubles ended, for Goodman received a letter
containing a considerable sum and on the first outgoing steamer he
sailed for New York.
Two days later I was steaming homeward on a cattle boat. The return
trip lasted ten days and the monotony of it soon palled upon me.