Friday, September 21. London.
The naval officers and three of us holdup men had a bitter argument over the respective merits of Baltimore, Dowagiac, Rockford, Niles, and What Cheer, Iowa, of which Mr. O’Flaherty is a native, and, so far as I know, the only one. It was finally voted to award What Cheer first prize for beauty of name, Dowagiac for handsome young men, Niles for scenic grandeur, Rockford for social gaieties, and Baltimore for tunnels.
I wanted to do some work, but the rest of the crowd seemed to think my room was open house for the balance of the day, and here they stuck despite all efforts to oust them.
To-night it was Chu Chin Chow at His Majesty’s Theater. You have to keep going to theaters in London. They’re the only places that are lit up.
Chu Chin Chow is a musical comedy based on The Forty Thieves, and the music, according to our unanimous opinion, is the best since The Merry Widow. I seem to have resigned as war correspondent to accept a position as dramatic critic. But, as Mr. O’Flaherty says, there’s nothing to write about the war, and what you do write the censors massacre.
Our ship still thinks it’s going to sail to-morrow night, and the train leaves at nine-thirty in the morning. I am to be convoyed to port by the captain and the lieutenant, whose holiday is over.
Saturday, September 22. In Bond.
We’re anchored in the middle of the river and have no apparent intention of moving to-night. And everybody’s out of cigarettes, and it’s illegal to sell them while we’re in bond, whatever that may mean. But I guess I’d rather be in it than in a spy’s cell, which seemed to be my destination at one time to-day.
The United States naval gentlemen were down at the train early and commandeered the best compartment on it. They had saved a seat for me and an extra one on general principles. This was awarded to Mr. Hanson, one of the active members of the French Line conspiracy which caused my arrest in Bordeaux. I hope he’s seasick all the way home.
On the trip up from London we scored a decisive verbal victory over the submarines and formulated the terms of peace. Captain Baltimore and Lieutenant Rockford said farewell at the Liverpool dock and started for wherever they were going. We found seats in the inspection room and waited. Mr. Hanson grew impatient at length. He flashed his passport, a diplomatic one, on the usher and was sent through in a hurry. Not so with this well-known suspect. I was among the last to be called. My passport, strangely enough, was approved, but the baggage examination was yet to come.