We are southbound out of Rio de Janeiro (River of January, because I am told it was discovered in January). . . We docked early on the morning of Dec. 7th and sailed out at 6 p.m. next day.
I was standing at the rail when we docked. I have had feelings of helplessness many times, and more or less acute. But when I looked down some 30 feet and saw that crowd of coated, black haired and hatless men, and saw those upturned faces ranging from swarthy to ebony black, and heard that strange Portuguese as it came up in increasing volume along with its accompanying pantomime . . . I wondered and wondered what I was going to do and how.
By that time passengers were descending the accommodation ladder and strangers had come up. Shortly, the cabin boy came with a short, thin, wiry, coal black haired young fellow. He said, "You are Mr. Durham?"
"Yes," I said.
He handed me a card bearing the name of a well known American firm doing business in South America and said, "We received word you and your daughter were arriving and I am down to ask you to be our guests so we may have the pleasure of entertaining you while here. May we have that pleasure?"
"Son," said I, "you most certainly may—and before you have time to change your mind." And I meant it.
He looked a trifle puzzled. We went inside the Verandah Cafe and right there another less swarthy and older man accosted me in like manner, for a like purpose, and handed me a card of another well known American firm.
We sat down and ironed it out: the answer was most simple—and most satisfying to both hosts. We saddled ourselves on the young fellow the first day and on the older man the second day.
Come to think it all over carefully, that thing could have been rehearsed by said parties of the first part. Things fit in too well.