I also hoped, should time permit, to have a try for a Rocky Mountain goat, and possibly a bear on the Mainland.
I sailed from Southampton on July 10, on the Deutschland, the magnificent steamer of the Hamburg-American Line, and never did I travel in greater luxury.
The voyage across the Atlantic is always dull and monotonous; it was therefore with great relief that, having passed Sandy Hook in the early morning, I found myself approaching New York on the 16th.
Here I was to have a new experience.
I am, I hope, a modest man, and never dreamt that I was worthy of becoming the prey of the American interviewer.
The fact of being a Pasha in Egypt, a rank which I attained when serving in the Egyptian Army, was my undoing.
A kind German friend who had used his good offices on my behalf with the Board of the Hamburg-American Line, gave the show away, for I found myself on the printed passenger list figuring as Sir John Rogers Pasha.
To the American interviewer, a Pasha was, I presume, a novelty, and the opportunity of torturing one not to be forgone, for as soon as we came alongside the quay at Hoboken, a pleasant and well-spoken individual came up to me and, raising his hat, remarked, "The Pasha I believe. Welcome to America." I then realized what I was in for.
Had I been a witness in the box, I could not have undergone a more merciless cross-examination. It was almost on a par with a declaration I had to make for the Immigration Authorities—giving my age, where I was born, who were my father and mother, when did they die, what was the colour of my hair and eyes, and lastly, had I ever been in prison, and if so, for what offence?