After the “Rhine” had been anchored in the harbour of St. Thomas, West Indies, for the space of two days, our First Officer, more generally known in these records as the Model Man, received a rather remarkable communication. It was a letter from a black sportsman, who issued a challenge to our ship on behalf of a local club. This note reminded the Model Man of a most successful cricket match in the past, when an eleven from the “Rhine” was victorious; and it suggested that, during the present visit of our vessel, a return match might be played. We talked the matter over, and I said:
“Of course you will accept.”
But the Treasure answered:
“You see there is always one great difficulty with black cricketers. They have a theory you cannot play the game properly in clothes, and they get themselves up for a match much the same as we should if we were going swimming.”
“Why, last time we played,” continued the Model Man, “only one man had anything you could fairly call raiment. He came on to the pitch with what he regarded as a pair of cocoanut-fibre trousers, and his team made him captain upon the strength of them.”
“If they prefer to play undraped, I don’t see that it much matters to us.”
“as if they were
going in swimming.”
“Not personally, but a mixed audience cannot be expected to stand it,” replied the Treasure. “We play cricket in St. Thomas upon a very public and central piece of ground, and, at one time, everybody used to turn out and watch the matches; but now, owing to the barbarous reasons I have given you, cricket has fallen into disrepute. Of course, to see an eleven taking the field in a state of nature makes dead against civilisation and human progress.”