“‘You holy beggars!’ I thought to myself. ‘I pray God that I may never become religious.’
“My comrade took me up to the White Hotel. Had a good time as far as times go when you’ve trouble on your mind.
“Cannot make out what has become of Waylao. Wondering if she has committed suicide. Feel down in the mouth.
“I feel lost without seeing Waylao. She’s my romance.”
I see by my next entry in my diary that the Knut left Suva on the following Wednesday, so that we were together for three days on arriving at Suva. I was very sorry to part with him; he was a good friend and cheered me up by his entertaining ways. Ere he left me he got slightly infatuated with a tourist girl he had met on the Victoria Parade. She had dropped her handkerchief and he picked it up. I recall her well. She was a horsey-looking being. Her name was Julia. The last I saw of them together was on the highroad near Suva. He was ogling Julia through his glass ogle as he strolled by her side. I hope he got well out of his love dilemma, for though he was a good chap, he did not strike me as one who would care for so serious-looking a catch as Miss Julia. Though he sneered at my romantic ways, he was really full of sentiment. I remember he helped me get my violin out of pawn, and then made me sit up all night playing sentimental songs of the homeland.
I never saw him again after he left Suva. Probably a further account of his doings can be found in some published book of South Sea Reminiscences. I know that he intended to write down his adventures in the South Seas, and include as illustrations those photographs that I have described.
I sometimes wonder if I am in his book. If so, I suppose he has got me down as some mysterious individual full of romance; one who tried to convince him that he was a prince travelling incognito, searching for a dusky princess.