Bosson, the new hand taken on at Cape Town, whom I had allowed to go for a run ashore, fell into a cactus bush, and did not forget the fact in the next few days.
We had an uninterrupted run to Ascension Island, where I intended to take in coal. As we approached we saw hundreds of birds, which flew squawking overhead, but were apparently intent on their fishing, and took very little notice of the ship. We arrived and dropped anchor about 8 p.m. on August 1st.
From the shore we received a signal to ask if we had a clean bill of health, and soon after the officer commanding the station came off to visit us in a boat pulled by several hefty bluejackets. He announced that at the moment of our arrival an interesting and unusual event had taken place: the birth of a child. I learned from him that I could get what coal I required to take me on to St. Vincent.
August 2nd was a rather muggy day. The ship was surrounded by thousands of fish of a dark purple colour with white patches on their tails. They rushed at anything edible that was thrown overboard, and the water was lashed into foam by their efforts to get at it. It was really a wonderful sight. They could not be induced to take a hook and fought very shy of anything with a line on it. Green, the enthusiast, tried all morning to catch some, but without success. He succeeded, however, by putting out more line, in catching a red spiny variety at a deeper level. He also caught a shark.
I sent ashore the scientists, and later went myself with McIlroy and Macklin. On landing, Macklin saw an officer of marines to whom he said: “Your face is familiar to me. Where have I seen you before?” Apparently they had met somewhere in Russia. It was rather extraordinary meeting again in this out-of-the-way little spot in tropical mid-Atlantic. We went on to the “Club,” where we met several more officers of the station and a number of the Eastern Telegraph Company’s officials.
The island is bare, sandy and desolate looking. The barracks and officers’ quarters are at sea level. The latter consist of neat little bungalows, about which some pretty blossom has been induced to grow.
The troops and naval ratings wear solar topees, khaki shorts and shoes. Usually they have no stockings. The soldiers have khaki shirts, and the ratings white jumpers. There are a number of women on the island. They wear light cotton dresses and often have no stockings—a sane and healthy fashion for this part of the world.
After lunch Macklin went off to see one of the sights of the island—the nesting-ground of the “Wideawakes.” He writes:
After leaving Commander Wild and Mick, I walked out to “Wideawake Valley,” so called because of the number of birds which nest there. It is an extraordinary sight. There are millions of them, covering the ground for acres. They lay a single egg, about the size of a bantam’s and spotted. Many of the chicks had hatched out. If one goes too near they rush frantically about and lose their parents, and if they intrude too much on their neighbours sometimes get pecked to death. Many of the birds rise up and come flying, with raucous din, all about one’s head. The noise is maddening. Having seen what I wanted to see, I was glad to get away. I left the track I had come by and returned across country. The going off the tracks is very bad indeed, the surface of the island being much broken and covered with a short dry grass amongst which were numerous stones and boulders, which tired one’s feet very much. The heat, too, was considerable, and I was glad when I reached the club and obtained a long, cool drink, which was very comforting to my parched throat.
During the afternoon the Durham Castle came in. This is a bi-monthly event, and throws the whole island into a fluster. I took Worsley, McIlroy and Macklin aboard, when we met the captain and the ship’s doctor. I dined in the evening with the commandant.