There is a whole army of cockroaches in our cabins. Before going to bed, I chase these nasty insects, and wrapping them up in a bit of paper, I throw them into the corridor.
We are now at the extreme end of the world, and have the feeling of standing upside down; and, in fact, if the globe was being pierced through, we should have found ourselves in that uncomfortable posture conformably to the inhabitants of St. Petersburg. When it is midnight in that city it is midday here.
Severe rules and regulations hang on the wall in my cabin. First rule: The striking of matches forbidden. Second rule: The rush to the life-boats before receiving permission, forbidden. Third rule: Not to take fright when the false alarm of fire was rung. This false alarm takes place once a week for the practice of the crew. Dear me, what a noise they were making! The alarm began by the piercing sound of a whistle, and loud shouts of Fire, Fire! After which the sailors rush on deck to open the fire-pumps, and pour out the water into the ocean, laughing loudly all the time.
Travelling on the same boat with us was a company of Teutonic travellers, with Baron Korff, a German General. One of the youngest members sang German lullabies and love-songs to me, tapping ruefully over the region of his heart and rolling his eyes as if in mute appeal to heaven. His favourite song was Mit einer Rose in der hand bist Du geboren. (With a rose in the hand you are born.) The captain of a Mexican sailing vessel, a cadaverous-looking man like Don Quixote, with very black teeth and little hair, fell to my lot as companion at table. An American missionary of grave aspect sat on the other side of me. He was bound to Japan with his wife, a thin and sickly-looking lady, and a whole band of children. The youngest, a baby in arms, was born in America during the missionary’s holiday. The children ran wild in the corridor, fighting and quarrelling the whole day, and are as noisy and troublesome as they can be. The boys no sooner heard me go out of my cabin than they were upon me like an avalanche. I could not read or work in the saloon, my attention being constantly disturbed by the children. They were as wild as young colts. One little boy believed himself to be a steam-engine and raced round the saloon driving a tandem of chairs, and his little brother, getting the maximum of sound out of a trumpet, executed a sort of war-dance round me, yelling like a wild Indian. The eldest of the family, a boy of six, was especially ungovernable. The heartless little wretch amused himself in tormenting Mrs. Beurgier’s kitten, and I flew to its rescue as soon as I heard the piteous mewing of the poor little animal, which gave me a furious desire to box the little wretch’s ears.
On Sunday morning, when I entered the saloon, I saw a notice stuck up on the mirror, announcing that the missionary was going to hold a service in the lower saloon at ten o’clock. At the appointed hour a boy sounded a gong, at which all the passengers assembled in the saloon and joined in the singing of hymns. The servants, baptised Chinamen, stood in a row as near the door as they could get.
July 17th.—Oh, what a night that was! I wonder my hair didn’t turn white. We all thought we were going to the bottom. The ship was rolling and pitching violently, every board cracked and quivered, and enormous waves dashed over the deck; vases in the saloon went down with a fearful crash, and all my things were scattered about my cabin. The captain kept watch on the bridge the whole night. I heard him shouting orders to the crew to take down the sails.
The sentimental German passenger did not coo his romances to me now. He suffered from liver complications and sea-sickness, and lay stretched on a bench on the deck, looking dreadfully green in the face.
July 18th.—The wind abated somewhat towards dawn, nevertheless the rolling continued and I lay in my berth the whole day. My head, finding no support, rolled from right to left on my pillow.