We had had our share of the representatives of the press, but any temptation to self-complacency would have been quenched by the knowledge that real success in newspaper paragraphs had already been achieved by the American cook who left in so summary a fashion at Honolulu. He had turned up from Hawaii and given out that he had been obliged to quit the yacht because he “could not stand a spook ship with skulls on board.” Except by one Christian Science reporter, scientific research was considered dull, but this aspect of our work gave a hope of copy; and we received a request, from more than one agency, that we would pose for moving pictures on the deck of the yacht exhibiting the said skulls to one another.
The Pitcairn Islanders almost rivalled the cook as objects of popular interest; as the men had nothing to gain from notoriety, we fixed a modest sum to be given them by each reporter whom they saw; as might perhaps have been foreseen, an interview then appeared without any such unnecessary preliminary as a previous conversation. Charles and Edwin told us that the life of a great city surpassed even their expectations, but it must be confessed that their most enthusiastic admiration was aroused by Charlie Chaplin as he appeared at the picture palaces.
The Exhibition was just over, and Mana was moored alongside the now deserted buildings, which even in their then condition were well worth seeing. We had understood that there would be no difficulty about our new cook, as he was not Chinese, and came from an American dependency, but he was forbidden by the authorities to go on shore. This ruling we had, of course, no means of enforcing; and we found also that we were liable to a fine of over £100 if we could not produce him when we sailed. It was not encouraging to be told that there were plenty of people who would entice him away for a share in the fine, and it was a relief when Mana at length sailed having all her crew safely on board.
It had been arranged that I was to return home overland, in order to avoid the long hot voyage on the yacht, and to put in hand preliminary arrangements there. I left on January 16th, taking the more southerly route across the continent. A night was spent at Santa Barbara, to see the mission buildings which are in the hands of one of the two remaining San Franciscan communities. The Brother who acted as guide, and who was of Hungarian Polish descent, said that it had been instrumental in converting between 4,000 and 5,000 Indians. From Santa Barbara the route runs to Los Angeles, which forms a winter resort for various Central American millionaires. A detour was made to the Grand Canyon, which is perhaps more impressive than beautiful, and so to Washington. A happy time was spent in seeing the city, and being shown over the National Museum by Dr. Walter Hough. The objects brought from Easter by the Mohican naturally proved of the greatest interest. At New York the beautiful Natural History Museum excited admiration, and gratitude is owed for the kindness of Dr. Lowie. At that time we were considering the question whether, owing to war conditions, to lay up or sell Mana in New York. Nothing could have been kinder than the assistance given in my search for information by more friends than I can mention. It was finally, as will be seen, decided to bring her home. The crossing of the Atlantic in an American vessel was uneventful, and on Sunday, February 6th, 1916, I found myself, with an indescribable thrill, at home once more in the strange new England of time of war; which was yet the dear familiar England for which her sons have found it worth while to fight and if need be to die.
PART IV
THE HOMEWARD VOYAGE—Continued
SAN FRANCISCO TO SOUTHAMPTON
By S. R.
CHAPTER XXII
SAN FRANCISCO TO PANAMA
Catching Turtle—The Island of Socorro and what we found there—The tale of a Russian Finn—Quibo Island—Suffering of the Natives from Elephantiasis—A Haul with the Seine.
On the 20th of January, 1916, we left the harbour of San Francisco, and proceeded to get well clear of the land, as the glass told us to expect a blow: and in due course it came—and plenty of it. We hove to for twenty-four hours, with oil bags to wind’ard, for the seas were high and untrue. The weather then moderated, so we let draw, and put her on her course, and were soon in a more pleasant climate.
The Panama Canal had been closed to all traffic for many months past, in consequence of land-slides. Of course Mana, drawing but 11 feet, and only 72 feet on the water-line, would experience no difficulty in passing, if the Administration would permit her to do so. But would it? We had been unable to discover, through any source in San Francisco, whether we should, or should not, be allowed to traverse the Canal. The only course left open to us was to go to the Isthmus and see what could be done on the spot: if we could not get through we must continue onwards to the S’uth’ard, and go round the Horn. Mr. Gillam and the Owner were quite keen on doing so. Mr. Gillam thought it was only fair to the vessel “to give her a chance of showing what a good little ship she was.” The crew, however, said they were quite satisfied on that point, and after three years of it, sighed only for Britain, Beer, and Beauty. So firmly were they convinced that our plucky Sailing-master would take her round the Horn, just for the sake of doing so, should he chance to come back alone without the Owner, that, when they signed on again at Tahiti for the voyage home, it was subject to the proviso that the outside passage round Cape Horn should not be taken without their consent.
So, from the so-called Golden Gate of San Francisco town, to the real Balboa gate of the Panama Canal, sailed we in the pious hope that something would turn up in our favour, and believing that it would do so, for Mana is a “lucky ship.” And of course that “something” did: but other events, not devoid of interest, intervene and demand recital.