But a truce to moralizing on the past. The children of Israel seem to have made and kept their record as "passengers." I was interested in the passage of a child of Ham. I am somewhat deficient in Bible history, and am without knowledge of the whereabouts of Ham's children at that time, or whether they had "crossing" to do; but if they possessed the proverbial character imputed to some of their offspring, antipathy to water, especially for lavatory purposes, I am of the opinion they took no desperate chances, "content to bear the ills they had than fly to those they knew not of."
Passing Hurich Island, a British possession, and having had a very pleasant passage on the Red Sea, we arrive at Djiboute, Abyssinia, the terminus of King Menelik's domain, the scenes of recent conflict between Italy and the King's forces, the "unpleasantness" resulting unprofitably to the Italians. There were landed from the ship many boxes of rifles and ammunition for the King's governor, who resides here. During the few hours we remained there, we were interested in and enjoyed the gathering of ten or fifteen native boys around the ship diving for centimes or francs thrown by the passengers, their dexterity as divers, securing every penny, was as clever as grotesque. They remained in the water six or eight hours during the ship's stay. A few hours brought us to Aden, a very strongly fortified appendage to the British Empire at the south end of the Red Sea. For armament and strategical locality it is the Gibraltar of the southern seas.
The rivalry of native boatmen for passengers and luggage to take ashore was appalling. When I say it surpassed a third ward political meeting in "ye olden times" in Little Rock I faintly describe it. Sunday morning; once more on the way; one more stop, and then to Tamatave, our destination.
Looking this beautiful morning on the foam-crest waves as they roll in sportive emulation, with a cloudless sky coming down on every side to kiss the horizon, shutting out human vision of all else beyond, one could not fail to be impressed with the greatness, the omnipotence of the Creator. This being but a speck of that vast whole, comprising the celestial and terrestrial aggregation, he, indeed, who regards this sublime workmanship as the product of chance and not that of a super-human architect and law-giver, by Whom every atom of nature is controlled, is more to be pitied than condemned.
To conclude our voyage, we have six or seven days of "innocuous desuetude." That is what I believe President Cleveland designated a monotonous and unprofitable period. I am not certain, however, and one should be careful in quoting great authors.
We pass the Gulf of Aden and enter the Indian Ocean, Rem Huffien Island to the right, and now appears the eastern coast lines of the continent of Africa. On that continent, I learn, lies the ashes of my forefathers. Peace abide with them, and may peace crowned with justice come to such of their descendants as are still the victims of dishonesty and inhumanity by enlightened and professedly Christian nations.
Travel by sea loses in interest as you recede or are midway between distant points. You somehow feel yourself located in the neighborhood of "Mahomet's coffin," and have a sort of a "don't-care-a-continental" atmosphere surrounding you, with nothing to arrest attention save the usual incidents of ocean voyage, with no land in sight. The constitutional promenade on deck before and after meals, with the French etiquette of raising your hat or cap as you pass; reading or lounging on sofas or reclining chairs; relating individual experiences of life or travel; criticising the conduct of others than yourselves; the welcome sound of the bell that calls you to meals; the last view of the sun as it bids you "good-bye," with its ineffectual rays, and gently sinks beneath the horizon; the rising of the moon, shedding its sheen of sparkling light on the dancing waves; retirement to your couch to listen awhile to the heavy breathing, and feel the pulse-beat of the iron monitor as it speeds you onward; finally to sleep, to dream of loved ones at home.
The suavity of the French is in notable contrast with the more taciturn deportment of the English; amiable contact has much to do with softening the asperities of life.
We are now crossing the heretofore much-dreaded equator—weather splendid, light, cloth suit not uncomfortable, but we are at sea and not on land. The forward deck is today given up to the sports of the sailors (the custom when crossing the line), and is now the center of attraction—running "obstacle races," the two competitors getting under, and from under a canvas-sheet held to the deck by a number of their fellows, and then running for the goal, picking up potatoes as they ran. Afterwards, with bucket of paste and paintbrush, lathering head and face, shaving with a large wooden razor the unlucky competitor—were a part of the amusements they imposed on "Old Father Time."
Arrived at Diego Suarez, on the northern port of Madagascar, a French naval station, having a land-locked harbor, providing good shelter and anchorage. The town is located on a plateau overlooking the bay. Many officers disembarked and a large amount of freight discharged. The resident population consisted of a medley from all eastern nations. Anchored a mile off and in small boats, and after 20 minutes' rowing we were landed. A dozen stores, barracks and the hospital on the opposite side of the bay were the only objects of interest. The large amount of freight discharged indicated it to be a prominent distributing point for the interior. Leaving Diego and running down the eastern coast with land in view, mountainous and apparently sterile, we reach Tamatave and anchor in the bay.