Outback Penguin
Page 3
There are some sports on board this morning, but I don’t think I shall enter for any of them. It is really surprising how tired one gets doing nothing. Now, I suppose, the Captain will try some fresh stunts with the clocks. The first day the clocks were put back one hour and every day they are changed every possible way – backwards and forwards, accelerating and decelerating.
There is a great and honourable party on board consisting of nine broad-minded men who call themselves ‘The Intellectuals’. Their names are as follows:
Father Wigram (a Cowley brother) (‘George Robey’)
Mr Tyler (Wat) a theological student
Mr Tomkins (Robin), a theological student
Mr Keith Garvie – this gentleman has been a private secretary, an actor, a dancing instructor, a book traveller, a clerk of works and several other things
Mr Morgan, one of the heads in the Y.M.C.A. – he is supposed to be in charge of us (I call Mr Morgan ‘Runabout’; there is a three-wheeled cycle car called a ‘Morgan Runabout’, so hence his nickname)
Mr McMinn (Mac), a farm apprentice;
Mr Askwith (Bill), a farm apprentice;
Mr Veal (Jim), a farm apprentice;
Mr R.G. Williams Lane (Dick), a farm apprentice and your humble servant.
Tonight I am to open a debate on ‘Sunday Observance’. It is really quite cool here today and there is a very fresh breeze. The sea is very calm. A lot of people have colds, but I have not yet (touch wood).
Tuesday, 19 September 1922
We did not have a debate last night, but instead we had a grand supper party. It consisted of all the Intellectuals except ‘George Robey’. One person brought a cake, another some chocolate biscuits, another plain biscuits, another fancy biscuits, another contributed some lemonade, and another a tin of sweets. When we had finished, some of us began to chuck the tin of sweets from one to the other. It fell several times and every time a few sweets tumbled out. Eventually someone threw it a bit too high and now, I expect, the sharks are enjoying them. I hope they get toothache!
It is very nice this morning, a beautiful breeze and not too hot. I sleep on deck every night now and have a cold bath nearly every day.
One of the pupils has gone mad. He will not sleep on the top bunk, as he is afraid somebody will stab him with a knife. A couple of nights ago he woke everybody in his cabin up and told them the ship was sinking. He then rushed up on deck with a lifesaving jacket on. Last night he prayed aloud for his cabin-mates and blessed them. He has seen ‘Sawbones’ (the doctor) several times, but he does not seem any better. Last night several pupils got drunk with whisky and soda. They are a lot of fools. All the Intellectuals have made a vow not to smoke until they get to Cape Town. Some of the weaker-willed ones have only agreed not to smoke for three days, but liable to extension with notice.
There are three Germans on board; they are all complete with short-cropped hair and spectacles.
Last night Mac and Billie Askwith were sitting on somebody else’s deck chair when, without notice, the canvas split in two. They are now looking out for the owner, to apologize.
Wednesday, 20 September 1922
The mad boy drank some Brilliantine last night, to oil his throat.
Mac and Billie got on very well with the owner of the busted chair. After looking out for the owner for quite a long time they discovered that it was a young girl of about nineteen or twenty. All she said was: ‘Accidents will happen.’
Thursday, 21 September 1922
There is a man on board called Mr Ker. He knows Devonshire very well, and his wife lived at Belstone for several years. Mr Ker gives first-aid classes to about a dozen pupils, three times a week: Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday mornings at 10 o’clock. Most of the Intellectuals attend, including myself. We overtook a boat this afternoon. It was called the Tricolor and was laden with timber. We passed within a quarter of a mile of it.
Friday, 22 September 1922
It is very cold today; I am wearing my overcoat and have a rug. It is very windy and the sea is choppy. I saw an albatross this morning; it was very big. Last night we had a short lecture on South Africa. The lecturer was saying how one day, when they were motoring, the car had broken down miles from anywhere and so they had to spend the night in the car. The mad boy interrupted and said, ‘Yes, but I heard that story somewhere else.’ Also, when the lecturer said he did not know where to begin the mad boy said, ‘I will begin for you, if you like.’
From last night onwards nobody is allowed to sleep on deck. So I had to sleep in the cabin. I did not enjoy it. One man got drunk and wanted to fight the surgeon (‘Sawbones’); he was taken away by four officers and put in irons. There is to be a fancy dress display this evening. A lot of people are busy making preparations.
Saturday, 23 September 1922
We passed a ship this morning about 12 o’clock. The sea is awful; the boat is rolling terribly and I feel fit for nothing. It is terribly rough now and very windy. I feel awful. I don’t think there is much chance of it calming down before we get to Cape Town. I am absolutely fed up with everything. It is about 7 o’clock now and as black as it possibly could be. It is terribly cold. This afternoon I was nearly shivering with an overcoat on and several rugs. We ought to arrive at Cape Town on Tuesday.
Sunday, 24 September 1922
Felt rotten. Very rough. Stayed in bunk till after 2 o’clock. Sick all night.
Monday, 25 September 1922
I feel a lot better this morning. I am afraid we shall not arrive until Wednesday. I have seen several albatrosses; they are very beautiful and weird in their movements. They glide for miles without moving their wings. Sometimes they appear to touch the tops of the waves with the tips of their wings.
Nearly everybody is making a list of the things they intend to purchase at Cape Town.
I did not go down to any of the meals yesterday, but Mrs Petheram brought me up some tea, bread and butter and jam, and the best part of a rock cake. There was only one rock cake per person and so the Petheram family divided their rock cakes up so that I should have a good share. Don’t you think it was jolly decent of them? Mr Garvie came down to my cabin several times. He brought me some pills, which were quite good, and also biscuits and water. Mac offered to do anything he could. He made my bed when the lazy stewards forgot to do so, and offered to bring me in any meal or part of a meal. Also, he brought me a basin when I needed it. So, you can see how everybody did their best for me when I was bad.
I will not say much about Saturday night. I didn’t sleep for more than half an hour the whole night and I was sick at frequent intervals. When I could be sick no longer, I retched. First you would think the ceiling was going to hit your head and then you expected to land on the floor. It was terrible to try and walk up or down steps. Father will tell you what it is like. It is still quite rough, but not half as bad as yesterday or Saturday.
Tuesday, 26 September 1922
There was quite a big concert last night. I came out halfway through, as I was fed up with it. The selections were very bad.
I have just seen the Southern Cross; it was very clear. Venus was showing up very brightly. The moon was marvellously clear; so were all the stars.
Wednesday, 27 September 1922
Whole day at Cape Town. Watched the lights of Cape Town early this morning, about 5.30am.
Thursday, 28 September 1922
We arrived very early yesterday morning. I got up soon after 5 o’clock and even though it was fairly dark I could distinctly see Table Mountain and Lion’s Head. I saw the sun rise; it was very beautiful. The sky was pink in some places, then there was a screen of smoke over C.T., then the blue sea. The Bendigo was at anchor and, as she slewed around, one side was sheltered and the sea was perfectly calm, not a ripple or anything. Then, just before 7 o’clock, the pilot came on board in a tug called the Sleuthhound. Shortly after we started to enter the harbour. There were two other big boats there: the Arundel Castle, a Union Castle boat with four fu
nnels, and the Euripides of the Aberdeen line. While I was watching the boat being made fast, the second steward was walking up and down the deck inquiring after ‘Mr Lane’. I told him that that was my name and he said that the port doctor wanted to see me in the office. (What’s up?) I went there, and the doctor gave me a letter which was as follows:
Cape Town
23 Sept 1922
Dear Mr Lane,
Colonel Beck, who received a letter from your Father, had unfortunately to leave for up country some days ago. He was very sorry to miss the opportunity of seeing you and asked me, as his brother-in-law, to do what I could to introduce Cape Town to you.
The good doctor has promised to take this on board for me and I hope to be on the wharf awaiting a chance of getting into touch with you. If you will hail the most unpresentable looking person you see, no doubt we shall manage to meet. Should this fail however, please ask to be directed to Portswood Road, quite near the docks. After passing through the customs’ gates you will see on the left-hand side, and across the patch of grass, a strange looking house with iron-barred windows. Approach it though the iron gates and ask for me. I believe the Bendigo will stay at Cape Town for twenty-four hours, so you ought to be able to see something of what is properly regarded one of the most beautiful places in the world.
Yours very truly.
G.A. Moore
When I had finished reading the letter the doctor pointed Mr Moore out to me and, as soon as I was able, I went down the gangway and met him. Mr Moore told me that Mr Beck retired at the end of last month and had gone upcountry for a holiday.
We took our places in the train, to take us to the town, but as it did not start right away we got out and took a taxi. This was about 9.30am. We booked two seats for a char-a-banc trip around Table Mountain, which started at 10.30am. I had my hair cut and, after buying a watch-key, it was time to start. We went right along the sea front to Camps Bay and Hout Bay, where we stopped and had some tea at the Beach Hotel. It was very strange to see white sand everywhere instead of the yellowish sands of England. The ride along the seashore was very beautiful. On the left there were hundreds of big, smooth rocks and, in the distance, Table Mountain. On the right there were a lot of bungalows and small houses, then the bays with white sand and the sea. There were hundreds of new and more solid houses on the left of the road. They all had verandahs.
After we had finished our tea at Hout Bay we went for a short walk and were simply pestered by dozens of small black children who wanted to sell us strings of shells. I was quoted two, three and four strings a shilling. I did not buy any as they were very brittle. We came back through the late Cecil Rhodes’ estate. We passed some natives breaking up stones with small hammers. I wonder if Father ever saw any when he was there. The scenery was indescribably lovely. We passed through long avenues of Port Jackson willows in flow. It must have been early spring, as all the oaks were covered with beautiful fresh green leaves and the peach trees were covered with burst and half-burst buds. The vines had been cut-off short and were just sprouting; they were not more than nine inches high and some of them must have been nearly as thick as a broom handle. I saw many fields of them.
I dare say Father has seen them at a more enjoyable time, as regards flavour. A lot of grapes are now dried and sent to England from South Africa. A few weeks ago they were three pounds per shilling, but the cheapest I saw were six shillings per pound. I saw a lot of fields simply covered with lilies, all wild. I bet Nora would have picked a few, if she had been there and had had the time, but I had nowhere to put them and the char-a-banc would not have stopped.
In the Cecil Rhodes’ estate there are a lot of animals in cages: lions, baboons, monkeys, peacocks and a lot of others. Does Father remember the wildebeest? Or for short, ‘gnu’. It is a very fierce animal, about the size of a big goat, and has a head something like a horse. I saw the Rhodes Memorial, right amongst the trees. I expect Father will be pleased to hear that I saw it as I remember him telling me, in Bristol, about it.
I think we passed through Wynberg, but I am not sure. There was a person on the boat called Barge, who lived there. There were three generations: grandmother, mother and daughter. I wonder if Father has ever heard of the name. I believe Mr Barge has something to do with a chutney factory. When we came to the end of the char-a-banc trip we got out and walked to the station where we went to the restaurant and had dinner. It consisted of soup, curried eggs and rice, roast beef, potatoes, jelly and cabbage, fruit salad and junket, toast and butter, dry ginger ale, coffee and Egyptian dates. It was served excellently and quickly; we never had to wait for more than fifteen seconds for anything. It was a topping change after Bendigo dinner. Then Mr Moore introduced me to Mr Kay, who is another brother-in-law of Mr Beck. After making an appointment for tea, we went to the gardens, passing by the Museum and Art Gallery, and Parliament House.
The gardens were lovely. I saw several cacti or cactus plants which were twenty to forty feet high, or at least that is what they looked like. I also saw some beautiful ferns in a glasshouse. The grass in the gardens was very coarse compared with that in England. There was a pond there absolutely full of goldfish. I saw a grey squirrel, and Mr Moore said that they were very warlike and had killed all the brown squirrels. They also do a lot of damage to the crops. I do not like the look of them half so much as the brown squirrel. Then we took a tram and fetched Mr Kay, and went to Cartwrights in Adderley Street and had tea.
Afterwards, Mr Moore bought me some fruit – pineapples were three a shilling; apples from thirty to ten a shilling; oranges from forty to twelve a shilling. There was hardly any fruit in season, but this afternoon I have had apples, oranges, slices of pineapple and a guava. Does Father remember guavas? I expect so.
Then I went to Mr Moore’s house, which is just inside the old convict prison. It has lately been used as a prison for white, young adults from about seventeen to twenty-five years of age, but has just been sold to the S.A.R (South African Railways) and so Mr Moore and family expect to be moved, perhaps to Johannesburg. He has two children, both boys, about seven and eleven years old. They are very decent little boys. I took a photo of Mr and Mrs Moore and, if it comes out, I will send you a print. We then went for a walk along the sea front and took the dog with us. Mr Moore is Assistant Chief of all the prisons and convict stations in and around Cape Town. He has been in charge for the last six months, as his chief has been to England for a holiday and only came back last week. He was in charge of Robbin Island (a leper settlement) for two months when the Governor was ill. Mr Moore’s chief is a man named Orpen, a cousin of the artist.
When we came back from our walk we had another tea. Meat and potato pie, fruit salad – containing pineapple, oranges and bananas – and mostbolletjies and Cape gooseberry jam. I expect Father remembers both of them. I believe the gooseberries grow in pods. Mrs Moore gave me some mostbolletjies to take on board with me. A mostbolletjie is a kind of a bun made from moss and a certain part of grapes – please ask Father for details in this and also in Cape gooseberries. They are both jolly decent. We did not have tea till nearly 7 o’clock. Do you know a person called Hastings Beck? They asked me if I knew him, but I did not. After a very pleasant talk, Mr Moore walked back with me as far as the boat.
What do you think of a man who will give up a whole day to show a complete stranger over a town and pay all expenses, give him fruit and do everything possible to make his short stay as perfect as possible? I think he is a gentleman of the first order. As perfect a gentleman as you would find anywhere. I cannot speak too highly of him and I am sure you are very grateful to him for giving me such a topping time. He would not let me pay for anything; he even paid for the fruit I took on board. He said, soon after I met him, that as far as I was concerned he was Mr Beck. You may be sure I thanked him and his wife very much for their kindness.
All the time I was in Cape Town, I was thinking a lot of Father. Of how he had arrived there; of how he had admired the gorgeous scener
y; of the lovely food I had and the indifferent food he had; and of hundreds of other thoughts promoted by the scenery and people. A few minutes ago the sun was setting at the stern of the boat, now it is the bows. We are going full steam ahead for Cape Town. Everybody is excited and rumours are flying all over the ship. I expect it is to test the compass or something like that, but at any rate we are still going back.
One man arrived on board this morning after the boat was well out of C.T. He had spent the night at a police station, dead drunk. His night’s entertainment will cost him at least £10. Serves him right.
There is a coal strike on in Australia and we are going to get two thousand more tons of coal.
Friday, 29 September 1922
I am on the top of Lion’s Head writing this. It was some climb. I have only written this just for the novelty.
Saturday, 30 September 1922
Left Cape Town at 12 midnight. Fairly tired – went in to town.
Sunday, 1 October 1922
I may as well explain that if you notice any discolouring on the pages of this diary it is most likely due to some flowers which I picked on Lion’s Head and temporarily pressed in this book. We arrived at Cape Town on Friday morning before daybreak and were allowed on shore soon after 9am. Mac and I made up our minds to try and climb Table Mountain, but when we called on Mr Moore to ask him the way he advised us to climb Lion’s Head Peak instead. You may be sure he was very surprised to see me again. When the Bendigo left on Thursday, he waved a towel from the bathroom window. This little act, though small in itself, made a lump rise in my throat. You can easily understand why.
Well, we, Mac and I, took a tram to Kloof’s Nek and then started to walk. I had brought two films with me, but one of them was a dud – one end of the film had not been stuck to the paper and when I turned it the film crinkled up and I had to throw it away. After walking about half an hour we came upon a belt of silver trees. I picked several leaves. The wild flowers about here were topping and I tried to press several in my diary. The path wound right around the mountain. You could look up to the top of the mountain and, even a few hundred feet from the top, it looked almost unclimbable. The scenery was grand. It looked as if you could climb up Table Mountain in a few minutes. Big liners looked like small clockwork boats on a little pond and, from the top, it was almost impossible to see any people. You could just see little dots moving about on the white sand, if you looked very carefully.