This is the second page of Ellsberg's diary.
Yesterday we took a trip to Finse which Coontz arranged for us. All of the Iowa’s midshipmen and half of ours went yesterday while the rest go today. We had an early breakfast, and went ashore in the launches. We fell in on the formed, counted off, and then marched in squads to the depot, where we met the Iowa’s division. We got to the train first, so I and five other youngsters managed to get a compartment which we occupied for half an hour, leaving only at the urgent request of some first classmen. After that we occupied ordinary seats in the rear car. I like compartments much better.
From the very start the scenery was great. We traveled along the very edge of a fiord which went directly inland. We had rugged cliffs rising up on each side of us, while right underneath the water of the fiord was a deep blue right up to the very edge. At first we saw few farms, and these were very small, having only a few acres. They had no real soil, the hay growing from a covering of the two or three inches of dirt which lay over the bedrock. Layers of rock would stick right up in the middle of a field. The houses were small huts of stone with a dirt roof from which grass and other things grew.
As we got farther into the interior, the fields became larger, but we saw not one which would compare with a small American farm.
We spent most of the time passing through tunnels of which there must be at least a hundred along the line which we traveled. This road is said to be the most expensive in the world and it ought to be for it is almost all tunnels.
We made two or three short stops but not to take on passengers for our train was a special. About one o’clock we began to spot patches of snow in the mountain tops and soon we passed above the timberline, which is, of course, lower in Norway than it is in America. The mountains were still green, however, for they were covered with grass and other small plants. A few peaks however had nothing at all on them and stood a dark gray against the green of the others. Snowsheds now became frequent, and between snowsheds and tunnels, we were undercover almost all the time. We had now left the fiord far behind us and were traveling along a mountain stream which had the most beautiful turquoise and green color that I have yet seen.
At 2:50 PM, we arrived at Finse and disembarked. Immediately we all entered the large dining room of the hotel and had the finest dinner which I have eaten in Europe. After dinner, which was of six courses, we wandered around Finse for about twenty minutes. We could see the glacier a short distance away, and a few of the fellows ran up to one of the snowfields to roll in the snow.
Finse consists only of one fine hotel where we ate dinner, and three other buildings. It is a general stopping place for tourists who take skis, which we saw at the hotel, and go skiing in the mountains on the snowfields. None of us did though.
We left Finse at 4:20 PM. The roll was called before leaving, and two second-classmen were found absent. They didn’t show up so we pulled out without them.
Our first stop on the way back was at Myrdal where we stayed for three quarters of an hour. We walked from the station to Vatnahalsen where I obtained the finest view which I have yet seen. Right below us we could see the road snaking back and forth beneath us as it descended into the depths. That road was the steepest and most winding road I ever saw. A sign posted at the top and having a legend in German, French, and English said, “Be gentle against the hill, walk the horse.”
A short stretch of canyon, about a mile long, which is a fine imitation of the Grand Canyon, had at its farther end a small waterfall which fell from the top clear to the bottom of the valley. The view from Vatnahalsen alone is worth coming to Norway to see.
I dropped into Vatnahalsen Hotel and registered. Then we all hiked back up a steep road to the train. The road formed a stiff climb, so we were all dusty and tired when we got back. Immediately after leaving Myrdal, we entered the longest tunnel on the road. It took us just eight minutes and seventeen seconds to go through it on the downgrade.
After leaving the tunnel, we passed down rapidly, shooting by cataracts, sighting a fine view every little while, and all feeling happy. While it was close to seven PM, no one had noticed in the least that we had been traveling all day as everything was so interesting.
A little after seven, we stopped at Voss and had supper served in the hotel there. It hadn’t been so long since we had had an excellent dinner so no one was really hungry, but the supper was swell, so we all dug into it. It was served by waitresses dressed in Norwegian costumes.
After dinner we took a view of the beautiful farms lying on the slopes of the valley, and then returned to the hotel where we spent the few minutes left in singing “Anchors Aweigh” and other Navy songs. We left at eight PM.
From there we rode down into Bergen. At every stop we made, little kids came out to sell us dishes of huckleberries and other berries, and so we pleasantly finished the journey. We arrived at the station about eleven, were again mustered, and then fell out to walk to the pier. The Iowa bunch immediately left in their boats, but no boats came for us till nearly twelve so I hung around the wharf until then. The wait was far from tedious, for far down the fiord at almost twelve PM we could see the last rays of the setting sun gilding the clouds. In addition, some native musician in a small boat played us some beautiful music on an accordion while someone else pulled him along. We applauded every piece so he played on till our boats came and took us off at midnight, putting an end to a most enjoyable day. Coontz and Lt. Enochs accompanied us on the trip and I believe that they enjoyed it as much as we did. Coontz is right there in fixing things up for us. The whole cost of the excursion, meals and all, was only $3.50.
On returning to the ship, I received the first answer to one of my letters, just a month and two days after I mailed the letter in Queenstown.
There is a cosmopolitan collection of yachts and steamers in Bergen harbor. The strangest one is a Turkish yacht, and the queer thing about it is that there is an English yacht in the harbor which is an exact counterpart of the Turkish one. On the Turkish one’s deck we saw the owner, a small man in European clothes, smoking a cigar, but crowned by a fez. At the wharf we saw one of the small boats belonging to the yacht with a sailor on it. He was dressed in regulation sailor costume, but wore a bright crimson fez with a tassel. He had some Turkish characters written in red on his chest, evidently the name of the yacht.
The Norwegian boats themselves would attract attention anywhere. If they are any improvement over the boats of the Vikings, the fact is not evident from a casual inspection. They have but one mast, upon which a large square sail is spread making the boat look for all the world like a boat of the eleventh century. Instead of a bowsprit, the timber to which the side timbers are fastened rises straight up for about ten feet, and it only needs a carved dragon’s head on top to make one think that he’s up against some pirates.
One of the things which added interest to our Finse trip was the printed itinerary furnished by the tourist bureau from which we got our tickets. The things done to the English language would make anyone laugh. On the back cover were advertised Norwegian souvenirs, “Artfully decorated.”
In another place some antique furniture was advertised with the following guarantee, “All antiquities granted genuine old.”
While we were still sailing over the bounding deep, one of the quartermasters told me that when we got to Bergen, the people would come out and sing to us during the midwatches. I didn’t think it possible then but it happened. A few nights ago when I was on the midwatch, a boat approached us at about one AM, and when within about fifty yards, a male quartet cast loose and opened up on us with some Norwegian song. It certainly is romantic to lean over the rail during the twilight at one AM and listen to the voices of the singers coming across the water. I almost imagined that I was in Venice.
July 22 I was on the lifebuoy watch and in the running boat crew yesterday. I stood watch from 12 to 2 PM and from 8 to 12 PM. During my night watch I walked up and down the quarterdeck with a third class quartermaster and heard him recite selections from various poets from Shakespeare to Longfellow. About eleven o’clock we sent our boats ashore to bring off the second half of our midshipmen who went to Finse. It had started to rain rather heavily about nine so the crowd got wet coming off.
They had the latest news from Finse. The commandant went back to Finse again yesterday to see if they could get news of the two fellows who were missing. No trace but a midshipman’s hat has been found. The two fellows have overstayed their liberty now for two days and unless they have a darn good excuse when they get back, neither will get any September leave. It is, of course, possible that something happened to them, but both of them have rather bad records for conduct so it seems more probable that they just broke liberty.
The running boat made only one trip yesterday so I didn’t have to pull much. We shoved off and rowed leisurely past the Massachusetts and down to where the Iowa was coaling. Her decks were covered with coal and dirty midshipmen were hustling coal bags around. We were making casual remarks about the pleasures of coaling, to no one in particular, when suddenly we all stopped talking and started rowing diligently for we noticed the eyes of “Buck” Enochs upon us. After that we pulled back to the Indiana where we had to make two landings because our coxswain made the first landing in rotten style.
This morning the race for the Lysistratus Cup, presented by James Gordon Bennett, was rowed in the harbor. At 9:30 we fell in for quarters, but the exec belayed the formation and had all the midshipmen and crew piped aft to see the race.
We couldn’t make out the different boats at the start, but when the boats were half way down the course, we could see that the middle one had a lead, and when a minute later the exec, who had the biggest telescope on board focused on the boats, shouted, “The middle boat is the Indiana’s!” we all went wild. From then on we were howling continually, “Come on, Indiana!” and at a distance of a half mile from the finish it looked like our race for our lead was about ten lengths. At a quarter mile, it began to look doubtful for the other two boats began to close up, but that only lasted for a few seconds. With our shrieks in their ears, our crew began to stretch themselves and made their lead bigger and bigger. We finally shot across the line fifty yards ahead of the Massachusetts, which led the Iowa by a length, and the Lysistratus Cup was ours for another year for the Indiana also won it last year.
As soon as the other two boats had finished they were towed to the flagship where our crew received the cup. Then the crew left the Iowa and as they approached us in the admiral’s barge, the entire crew, officers, midshipmen, and bluejackets, assembled on the quarterdeck to meet them. The boatswain piped them over the side, and as they came up the gangway, the captain shook hands with each man.
The captain then made a speech congratulating us upon our victory, and also expressing his pleasure at the success which we were having on this cruise, saying that it was the best cruise which he had made. We all agreed with him. The captain then led in three cheers for the crew, and after that we finished off with a four N yell upon which we just about split our lungs. It was great to see the way the officers, some of whom have been out of the Academy for twenty years, come down with that N-N-N-N. Grahame, our chief engineer officer, nearly had apoplexy from shouting.
We were due to have a very rigid captain’s inspection of the whole ship this morning, but in consideration of our victory, the captain let it go.
July 23 I went ashore on liberty yesterday in a pouring rain, which, however, only lasted a few minutes. I made my usual round up and down the Torvetgarden and then walked down the peninsula toward the bathing beach. There is no beach there, for the shore is rocky, but a terrace on the pavilion furnishes a substitute for it.
I didn’t get to the pavilion, for on the way I stopped to sit down on a bench overlooking the harbor and our ships, and while there I talked with an old Norwegian who sat down beside me. His English was rusty at first, but he soon limbered up. He said that he had been the skipper of a brig that ran to New York in 1870, but since then he had stayed in Norway.
Upon his advice, I began to climb a high mountain in the rear of the town. A series of steep stone steps led to the road going up. Before I got very far, the raincoat which I had brought with me from the ship began to feel uncomfortably heavy, so I left it at the halfway house and continued my climb. A few yards farther along I met two bluejackets from the Massachusetts also going up, and went the rest of the way with them. We had a pretty good time going up, for the road was smooth and the rocks and small lakes which we passed were interesting. It was not very steep climbing, for the road crossed back and forth across the face of the mountain, making a large number of sharp turns. Towards the end of our climb, the road became so soft and springy that it felt as if we were walking on air cushions, although it was almost covered with small stones.
We finally reached the top, upon which was built two stone monuments. From there we could look down into the harbor, or seeing the fiords winding in and out among the mountains, or looking farther out toward the west, we could see the Atlantic Ocean with its smooth face reflecting the rays of the sun. A few minutes later, clouds began to drift around us and below us, so we started to descend. We didn’t care to follow the road going down, so we took the first likely looking place and started down the face of the mountain. We soon wished that we hadn’t for we came to a pretty steep cliff, but as we didn’t care to go back up again to the road, we began to climb down it. The first bluejacket made it safely and then I started. I made almost all of it without much trouble, but when about ten feet from the bottom, I slipped on a wet rock and went down the rest of the way headfirst. Fortunately I landed on a patch of moss with which the mountain is covered and so I wasn’t hurt in the least, although I got rather wet from the moss. The other sailor got down without mishap. After that we stuck to the road until we reached the halfway house, where we stopped for supper. Our chief boatswain and our gunner were there, and a few minutes later “Buck” Enochs and two other lieutenants arrived. I and the two sailors got a swell meal with some fine strawberries and cream for only two kroners.
After supper, we descended the remainder of the way and reached the town at half past eight just three and a half hours after I started. I wandered around town for half an hour, buying a few cards, and then returned to the ship. I didn’t have any watch so I had all night in.
This morning we did not sail, as we were scheduled to do. Lt. Brown said that we would sail at 8 AM tomorrow. The delay was made to enable the officers to attend a ball in town today, I believe. There are all sorts of rumors floating around the ship however. Some say that we have received orders to sail on the thirty-first for the Azores, and not to go to Gibraltar at all.
Lt. Brown says that the two missing second classmen had been traced part of the way to Christiania, and then been seen yesterday in Bergen. It seems that after leaving us, they went to Christiania, stayed there a day, and then returned to Bergen. They have not yet returned to their ship. They will certainly get a hot reception from Coontz when they return.
July 24 The lost have been found. Some of the Norwegian Secret Service men who were working on the case discovered our two wanderers living in a house about fifteen miles from Finse. They notified the commander and Lt. Van Auken went up and arrested them. He brought them back to the ship this morning, after they had been missing three days. They were well supplied with cash, one of them having five hundred dollars in his possession when arrested. They evidently had no intention of returning to the ship in this port at least, for they were not found until this morning, and we were to have sailed yesterday. Some trouble about cash arrangements in Gibraltar delayed our departure until today. Both of them will certainly be dismissed when we get back to the United States, unless they are disrated instead and made to serve three years as ordinary seamen.
Our delayed departure was said to be because we weren’t going to Gibraltar at all on account of some trouble down there between France and Germany over Morocco. Their dope was all wrong for we will sail for Gibraltar some time this evening. We are getting up our anchors now, a rather hard job because we have so much chain out. The Iowa, by the way, recovered the anchor which she lost. After many ineffectual attempts to get it by grappling, one of the gunner’s mates went down in a diving suit and secured it.
We had an informal boxing tournament on the forecastle yesterday afternoon. I fought three rounds with another youngster with whom I had some trouble on the Killarney trip. We had a pretty hard fight but I beat him. When we finished he was bleeding pretty freely from the punches which he got around his head. I came out with only a slightly swollen lip. Our fight was the liveliest of the bunch and we had about the whole ship’s company as spectators before we finished. The turrets and the deck were covered with sailors and midshipmen, while the rail was left clear in order to afford an unobstructed view to the large number of shore boats which gathered around the ship’s side.
In the evening, one of the sailors got an accordion from a rowboat alongside and we had a musical entertainment. The other sailors sang while he played.
It was of course my luck to strike the mid-watch last night, so I had to get up at twelve and stay on the bridge till four AM. There was nothing to do but to watch the ripples running over the bay and listen to the different songs from various small boats. Bergen appears to be a dead town at night, for, outside of a few red and green lights to mark the various piers, there was not a single light in all the town.
July 26 We got up anchor in the evening of the twenty-fourth. The Iowa and Massachusetts got theirs up first and steamed out of the harbor at six PM. Our two anchor chains got fouled and it took us two hours longer before we got underway. A few small boats tried to follow us out, but we soon dropped them astern. This was the first time that we have steamed yet without the other two ships in front of us. We passed out of the fiord in a few hours and started out to sea. Our ship passed through a large German fleet which was headed in for Bergen. The Iowa and the Massachusetts were waiting for us a short distance out at sea.
I had all night in. When I awoke in the morning, we were running in a rough sea which did not agree very well with all the fancy grub which I had been eating ashore. I didn’t really get seasick, but I couldn’t help shooting my grub over the rail. After that I was all right. A large number of fellows got seasick in the morning, but by evening, we all were well again.
Nothing of interest occurred. We sighted several small sails, but none came near us. About noon, we sighted the Shetland Islands south of us, and passed around them. We are due to sail north of Scotland and Ireland and then to go south to Gibraltar. The weather has been cold. We struck our coldest night of the cruise on the first night out.
I had the eight to twelve PM watch on the bridge last night. The sea was smooth, but it was rather cold so the quartermaster allowed us to go down on the skid deck and sit on the lee side of the forward stack.
This morning we had a fire, a collision, and an abandon ship drill. We didn’t abandon the ship however, merely standing by the boats. Our other drills this week have consisted of writing up various parts of the ship.
July 27 We passed northward of Scotland already, and turned south yesterday. In the evening we sighted some of the Hebrides Islands, and a little later, about eight o’clock, we sighted some barren rocks sticking out of the water at an apparent distance of about two miles. There were about seven islands altogether, every one sticking straight up from the water, ragged and rocky, with not a single smooth slope in the bunch. About nine o’clock when the sun began to set, it came out from behind the clouds and gilded them a beautiful yellow. I had already turned in, but I got out of my hammock to see that. I learned later that they were the St. Hilda Islands. We were seven and a half miles from them when we passed.
I turned out at twelve PM to go on watch. It was raining and blowing rather hard. I spent only one hour on the bridge and the other three trying to sleep in the lee of the after stack. I woke up at three AM to find both my legs lying in a pool of water, and spent the time till four AM hanging my legs down the well by the stack trying to dry them. I turned in at four in my hammock and woke up at seven AM to discover that someone had appropriated my sweater.
The sea has been smooth for the last two days. The barometer dropped last night, a sign of a storm, but it passed us by.
We scrubbed hammocks yesterday. I was going to let one of the colored mess-boys scrub mine, but when I learned that the cost was seventy-five cents, I changed my mind. Money is rather scarce on the ship at present, so I scrubbed it myself.
I learned a little inside history of the navy from Clickner, the boatswain’s mate from Denver, a few days ago. Back in 1901, when the Pacific Fleet of four cruisers, the California, the Colorado, the Maryland, and the West Virginia, and about six gunboats and five torpedo boats were lying in Shanghai harbor, there was a rather large Japanese war-scare in this country. One evening, the fleet saw three Japanese cruisers come in the harbor, stay a few minutes, and leave again. Later in the evening, they saw the whole Japanese fleet cross and recross the horizon several times. That looked suspicious, so all the men were called to quarters, the magazines opened, and the guns kept loaded and ready, with ammunition on the deck, all that night. Nothing happened, but the sailors are convinced that if they hadn’t taken those precautions, the Japs would have come in and blown them out of the water, in the same way they did the Russians in Chemulpo harbor when they started the war by running into the harbor and sinking the unprepared Russian ships.
Clickner was on the Oregon on the Asiatic station during the Russo-Japanese War, and saw a lot of it. He said that one night while they were in Chefoo, a Russian cruiser, a five-stacker, came shooting into the harbor, filled full of holes, with three Jap cruisers in hot pursuit firing at her. The Japs turned back as soon as she got into the port for she was then in neutral waters. The Russian had her bow shot away and her decks covered with wounded men. The Chinese disarmed her, and kept her till the end of the war.
Another time, when our fleet sailed out of Manila to maneuver, they spotted four ships sneaking along the coast. We steamed over to them and found that they were four Russian cruisers, looking like sieves, which had escaped the Japs and were trying to get to Manila. Our fleet escorted them there and disarmed them by taking away their breech-plugs. The ships stayed there the rest of the war, and Clickner says that they were glad of it.
July 28 We had a regular flood on deck yesterday evening. The rain came down so hard that we had to put on rainclothes to go on deck for thirty seconds in order to receive our hammocks. The rain only lasted for a short time and then left us.
We are going to have a smoker when we get to Gibraltar. The officers will contribute $100, and everybody else on board will dig up a dollar so we will have an expensive blowout. We are going to have boxing matches, a battle royal, and a number of special acts.
I saw one of the most unexpected and out-of-place performances on the forecastle this morning that could be found on a battleship. One sailor with a large husky fist was sitting on the anchor chain while another sailor was manicuring his nails. Both of them were taking it seriously, too.
July 29 At eight o'clock this morning we were a few hundred miles west of Brest. We crossed our course going to Queenstown, yesterday.
Ever since arriving off the coast of France, we have been sighting sailing vessels, mostly small ones. This morning we saw one four-masted bark which was the largest that we’ve seen yet. She was about four miles away, but we could make her out plainly with the telescopes. She had five sails rigged on each of her three forward masts. She hoisted her international signal letter but at the distance we were unable to make it out. About five minutes after first sighting her, she ran into a fogbank which we couldn’t see at all and completely disappeared from view. When she reappeared all her sails, except those on her aftermast, were furled. She tacked several times before we finally lost sight of her so we obtained various views of her.
Soon after, we ran into a rainstorm which lasted for half an hour. The captain was to have made an inspection of the ship and the crew, but the rain cut it short.
After the rain, we ran close to a school of porpoises. They came racing toward the ship, going at high speed and leaping clear out of the water every twenty yards. They chased us for about twenty minutes during which time we could see fins cleaving the water and fish shooting over the surface, all around us.
While I was on the bridge, Lt. Brown read us an order from the flagship, saying that we would increase our speed and that we probably reach Gibraltar a day ahead of time although we left Bergen a day and a half late.
The food has been as good lately as during the beginning of the cruise. Last Sunday we got a whole spring chicken apiece for dinner and our ordinary meals are fine.
The sailors have already begun to paint some scenery for the stage at the smoker. The drop is to represent the Rock of Gibraltar. While they were discussing where to begin, one of the sailors remarked, “We ought to put the ground coat on first. Then we can all go ashore.”
I have got a fine job for next week. I am additional aide to the exec and I get all night in every night. It’s quite a graft.
We were some distance north on this trip. We went as far north as the southern part of Greenland, the center of Hudson Bay, or Sitka, Alaska. We are now getting down to a latitude where the sun sets at a civilized time. It seems queer to us, however, to have the sun set at seven-thirty instead of half past eleven. It is also getting warmer. For the first time since our departure from Crabtown, the uniform has not been sweaters. Someone considerately took my sweater a few days ago, doubtless to prevent me from hitting the pap for being out of uniform.
July 30 When I went to sleep last night, the wind was getting rather strong and when I turned out at six AM to go on watch on the starboard side of the superstructure, the sea was certainly rough. The wind was dead ahead and blew so hard that it was impossible to stand up out on the gallery so I came in and finished my watch inside the bulwarks. About six-thirty we ran into a thick fog and it immediately began to rain so hard that the decks were wet in no time. The wind blew the rain so that it was horizontal and shot it into our faces so hard that I couldn’t keep my eyes open when facing it. The fog horn began to toot at intervals of one minute, one long toot and two short ones being our signal. Spray from the tops of the waves was flying all around and the waves broke over the decks. The rain stopped at about eight o’clock and the wind died away soon after but a heavy sea kept running all the rest of the day. A number of the fellows got seasick, but I did not.
The chaplain cut his morning sermon rather short, saying that this was one of the days when a poor sailor like himself did not feel at his best.
We are now getting so far south that it is not cold any more although it is windy. We are at present somewhere off Cape Finisterre.
July 31 The water has been getting bluer every day. It is now a very deep indigo but it has a certain sparkle in it as the wind blows it around, that makes it look fine.
We are now well down the coast of Portugal. We got our first glimpse of it today shortly before noon in the shape of two dim peaks thirty miles away from us. As we went south we kept getting closer to land so that we can now see coast plainly although we are still twelve miles away. The coast consists of land sloping down to the water but there are several fairly high cliffs along the shore. We can see one large white house surmounted by a tower which stands on a cliff while behind it are numerous small houses, all painted white. The coast does not appear green, but brown.
About noon, we passed the entrance to the Tagus River and at that time we were only forty miles from Lisbon. We could see several large steamers going up and down the coast.
I didn’t have anything to do today, so I spent most of the time sleeping on the forecastle along with about half of the crew. The sun kept the deck planks warm so we had a pleasant, though hard, place to sleep on. Occasionally, however, a cloud of spray would be blown over the deck and wet somebody, but no one minded this much. And thus we lay and talked and slept while we steamed down the coast of Portugal.
The deck force is painting the ship today, and about everything except the decks is covered with fresh gray paint which we occasionally rub off on our white clothes, giving them a delightfully dirty appearance which is much appreciated since we have to scrub our own clothes.
The order came over today from the flagship that the first conduct grade would get daily liberty from one to seven PM and the other grades only one liberty. I think we have to get back at seven instead of nine-thirty because the sun sets so much earlier in Gibraltar than it did in Bergen. We are only going to draw one-half a pound here. I have half a pound left from Bergen so I have a pound altogether but $4.87 won’t go very far in Gibraltar, I fear.
August 1 I had to stand the lookout watch from 8 to 10 PM on the bridge, and from 10 to 12 PM I stood the lifebuoy watch on the port gallery. I was never so sleepy before on the cruise as I was on that lifebuoy watch. If anybody had fallen overboard, I think that they would have had to do without the lifebuoy, for on account of my drowsiness, I walked into the scuppers about four times while I paced up and down the gallery and if it hadn’t been for the rail, I would have walked off into the water.
The nights here are very different from those we saw up north. Here it grew dark about eight o’clock, and a short while later the sky was filled with brilliant stars while a crescent moon rose for a short distance above the horizon and added to the beauty of the scene. And all the while I stumbled along my gallery, bumping first the bulwarks and then the rail.
We passed Cape St. Vincent early this morning and then headed due east for Gibraltar. Nelson landed on the French fleet right off this cape, and all the waters around here are full of historic associations. The chaplain gave a short talk on the berth deck this afternoon on the history of the places which we were passing.
Our marks for the second month of the cruise were posted today. I stood one in conduct with a 4.0; one in the subject “Practice Cruise” with a 3.78; and two in aptitude with a 3.72.
Aug. 2 Yesterday the sailors brought the phonograph up on deck and we had a concert on the forecastle as we steamed along.
In order to avoid arriving at Gibraltar during the middle of the night, we cut down the speed so that we only went at seven knots an hour.
I had the mid watch last night on the bridge. I turned in at nine and woke up rather unwillingly to go up on deck to stand my watch. The night was very dark for although the sky was filled with stars, there was no moon. Shortly after coming on watch, we picked up the light on Cape Trafalgar when we were about twenty miles away from it. Nelson put the finishing touches on the French and Spanish here. At the same time we picked up the light on Cape Spartel, the north-western corner of Africa. Every thirty minutes the officer of the deck would fix our position on the chart from the bearings of these two lights. The water was the smoothest that we’ve met yet, and we gently slid though it. The officer of the deck, Lt. Bassett, kept us all laughing at his jokes.
About one o’clock the lookout was instructed to keep a bright watch for the Tariffa Lighthouse, which he ought to see about one point on the port bow when we were seventeen miles from it. Shortly after he reported that he saw it on the horizon but when we looked we found that it was a star. We finally picked up the light at 1:30 AM.
I turned in at four AM and woke up at six AM to hear the chief jimmy-legs telling me to rise and shine. “Wake up and see the Rock,” he added. I told him that the Rock could go to (Ed: no missing word) for all I cared, but I had to get up anyway. I looked out of a porthole and saw the outline of the Rock through the morning mist.
After dressing I went on deck and found that we were remarkably close to the African side. We could see the African Pillar of Hercules standing out above the surrounding mountains, with ledges of rock protruding which looked a great deal like white quartz.
The Rock of Gibraltar rose on our port side in its familiar outlines. We could see the rocky southern face as we steamed toward it, with the town nestling at its western base. A slight mist hung around it, but when it cleared, we could see that the sides of the Rock had been well fortified.
We stopped at the entrance to Gibraltar Bay and each ship took on a pilot. We then stopped while the Iowa and the Massachusetts went in, rounded the breakwater, and then tied up to the inside of it. After they got in, we went ahead slowly and tied up to the inboard side of the mole with about eight seven-inch cables. They certainly ought to hold us.
The city of Gibraltar rises in terraces a short distance up the rock, looking somewhat like Queenstown. Directly across the bay, about fifteen miles from us, the Spanish city of Algerciras lies like a white blanket on the edge of the bay.
The big fleet was here in 1909 when it went around the world. The sailors claim that Admiral Evans said that he could take the fort in twenty-fours with his fleet. The story is doubtful, I think. While our fleet lay here then, seven Russian warships were also in the harbor. It happened that a Russian sailor struck his officer on board one of their ships and the Russian admiral asked permission of the English commander of the station to hang the man in the harbor. His request was not granted, so the Russian ship steamed out, hanged the man, and then returned.
I just received some letters and some money from home so I guess that I will be able to have a fine time here after all.
Contrary to the order published at the beginning of the cruise that no liberty would be given on the days of arrival in ports, we were given liberty in the afternoon. We broke out our whites and went ashore in white uniforms instead of in blue. We landed at the King’s Stairs in the royal dockyard, and after passing through several walls, we entered the town. Gibraltar is the first walled city that I have seen. It has high stone walls all along the water’s edge with gun ports in them but no guns. I walked down the main street which is only about thirty feet wide with sidewalks about two feet wide, on each side. The street was lined on both sides by stores large and small, generally run by Moors, who were selling all sorts of silk goods and Toledo engraved jewelry. I was pulled into several stores but didn’t buy anything.
I dropped into a fruit store and bought sixpence worth of Malaga grapes and cherries. They were fine. I stayed in the store to eat them, and meanwhile conversed with the owner in Spanish. I learned from him that there is to be a bull-fight next Sunday afternoon in which two celebrated matadors, with their quadrilles will fight four bulls of Dr. Espada’s famous breed. He told me that they had a bull fight a few months ago in which one of the banderilleros, who was merely supposed to irritate the bull with a banderillo or short dart, became enraged at the bull, and taking out his pocket knife, killed the bull with it. This, of course, was entirely against the etiquette of the bull ring as the matador is supposed to kill the bull with his sword, so they took the banderillero and put him in jail for two years and made him pay for the bull besides.
I ate so much of those grapes that when I got back to the ship, I had a stiff pain in the stomach. No more Malaga grapes for me.
Gibraltar has an Oriental touch, for I saw many Moors wandering about the streets in flowing robes with turbans wound around their heads. They were husky looking chaps, about twice as large as the Spaniards whom we saw.
The cafes have learned that we have arrived for I saw several freshly printed signs, advertising the fact that “Pabst Cerveza, Made in Milwaukee, Wis., U.S.A.” was for sale there.
I saw a few Spanish girls in the streets with fat duennas following in their wake, and several others riding in carriages and working their fans. Those in the carriages looked rather sour.
Half of the shops in town seemed to be money-changing offices. The exchange on a sovereign for the day was quoted at 27 pesetas.
We got back to the dock at 6:45 PM. I started to wander down a road which led past three torpedo boats in dry docks, but a bobbie headed me off and I had to stay near the boat. We had to return to the ship at seven PM. Most of the fellows were carrying packages when they returned, and almost all had already blown their half pounds.
I saw a number of the English soldiers and sailors who garrison Gibraltar. The soldiers didn’t wear the fancy uniforms that we saw in Cork, but were dressed in khaki and helmets, while the English sailors wore straw hats. The soldiers still sported a small cane, though.
Aug. 4 I drew my half pound from the pay officer and went ashore in the first liberty boat at one o’clock. After landing, I went down Waterport Street, out of the city gate, bought a ticket on the steamer to Algeciras. The boat left at 2:20 PM and we got to Algeciras half an hour later. The first thing I saw when I landed was a little Spanish soldier with a gun which looked more like a popgun than any which I’ve encountered. His uniform was made of some sort of white cotton with vertical black stripes in it.
When I got off the pier, I walked down a beautiful ocean driveway past several very nice looking villas to the Hotel Reina Cristina. This was a long low building of only two stories but exceedingly well designed. It was built around Moorish-looking court with a tiled floor and a fountain in the middle. The gardens surrounding the hotel were carefully laid out and were filled with tropical plants. I sat down on the veranda and ordered some lemonade. They brought me a large pitcher full of it, probably thinking that I was a tank.
The town of Algeciras didn’t contain anything of historic interest. There were two or three ancient convents and churches scattered around, and an old decaying cement column.
Outside of the town was an old Roman aqueduct which was pretty well preserved.
The town of Algeciras is composed of one or two storied houses, all whitewashed. The doors of the houses generally had curtains hanging across them, but occasionally I could see into a small inner court which had plants and trees growing in it.
Half of the buildings in Algeciras are small cafes, where the ragged Spaniards sat and drank. I didn’t see anyone in the town who looked as if he had a steady job. The streets are full of small children who are nearly naked.
Right by the edge of the town is the bullring where a fight is held every two weeks. I went in and the keeper showed me around. The ring was only about a hundred yards in circumference, with rows of wooden benches rising in tiers above it. The highest seats had a roof built over them, but the others were open to the sun. At one end, was a box in which the alcalde sits. Under his box was the passage through which the bulls came. The keeper showed me six stalls with wooden doors where the bulls were kept. Nearby was a large pool of dried blood where one of the bulls had died the Sunday before. The keeper then showed me the banderillas which the fighters stick in the shoulders of the bull. These were small sticks covered with colored paper with a sharp steel barb in one end.
On going out, as I didn’t wish to tip the keeper too much, I gave him some coppers and learned the Spanish method of hinting that the tip was too small. The keeper immediately turned around and handed the coins to one of the crowd of little beggars which was hanging around. I gave him a larger tip then.
I had supper and then returned to the pier. A train had just pulled in, and out of one of the compartments stepped a sailor in the uniform of a chief petty officer. “Is the Iowa in yet?” he asked me, and when I told him it was he lighted up. He had just come from the converted gunboat Scorpion which is now lying in Trieste, from which he had been transferred to the Iowa. He was overflowing with joy at leaving the Scorpion which he said was full of bright work to shine, and especially glad to get a chance to get where he could talk English.
I got back to the ship at seven o’clock and went forward to see the stage for the smoker. The stage built on the forecastle was beautifully fitted up with wings and a drop curtain representing our fleet steaming into Gibraltar, which was painted by two sailors on board. The whole forecastle was covered with lights when the show commenced at eight. The first five acts consisted of vaudeville stunts by midshipmen and sailors, of which the best was the last one, a seagoing minstrel show with Lt. Bassett as the interlocutor. The minstrels were eight midshipmen, with large sou’wester hats, enormous beards, and what was funniest of all, their own legs were hidden and in front of each man was a pair of legs formed by the arms of a supe behind the screen, making each one of the minstrels look like a sailor with a large body and a pair of legs about a foot long. The antics of the feet kept us all laughing. The jokes of the minstrels were all personal, mostly relating to the experiences of some officer or midshipman in Berlin. Some midshipman, wisely keeping himself out of sight behind the screen, burlesqued a speech which Lt. Enochs made to us in the messhall last winter, which was great. As soon as he had finished, our goat came on the stage with the sign, “Whose goat did that get?” I think Lt. Enochs got sort of hot under the collar.
The moving picture part of the show was run by the chaplain. The first picture, though, which he threw on the screen was the picture of Lt. Commander Briggs, our exec., asleep on a hatch on the quarterdeck, which one of the midshipmen snapped a few weeks ago. I would like to know how Briggs felt when he saw that picture on the screen. They ought to present him with the original.
After the moving pictures, we had three boxing matches. The first two, between midshipmen, were lively enough, but the last one between Capper of the Indiana and Lohman of the Iowa, both sailors, was a real fight. It went for six rounds. Capper knocked Lohman off his feet in the first round, and after that had the fight pretty well cinched, but Lohman kept fighting to the end and there was heavy slugging in the match. Downes, our chief jimmy-legs, who was the lightweight champion of the fleet a few years ago, refereed the fight. He gave Capper the decision.
After the conclusion of this fight, we went below and filled up on soda, sandwiches, and cakes. The air was rather thick with smoke, for cigars and cigarettes were passed around at frequent intervals during the show.
All the officers, fifty midshipmen, and fifty bluejackets from each of the other ships were invited. A few English officers were also present. The officers occupied the reserved seats on the anchor engine house, while the rest of us sat on benches, turrets, guns, and masts. The whole ship was covered with men.
Just about the time the show ended, a heavy fog came down and shut the city and even the other ships out of view. It didn’t rain, but it might just as well have done so, for in a few minutes everybody on deck was wet.
Aug. 5 The sailors spent all the morning in cleaning up the bottles and cigar stumps from the deck, and in taking apart the stage. It was not until noon that the ship began to look descent again.
I went ashore at one o’clock, and following the universal custom, I bought one of those small canes which the English soldiers always carry. After that, I dropped into a Turkish shop and acquired a fez. Then I managed to get hold of a hack whose driver was willing to work for only a third more than the legal rate (all the other drivers thought we were easy on account of our uniforms, and wanted twice the legal rate) and rode around Gibraltar in style for a few hours.
We drove outside of the city gates to the southern end of the Rock where the barracks and a large number of the shore batteries are placed. Overlooking Rosia Bay were two obsolete guns, both muzzle loaders of about fourteen inches in the bore, and as big around as any modern gun but only about half as long. One was dismounted and the other was all rusty.
Nearby was a modern dockyard with two large drydocks. We weren’t allowed to enter it, but I could look down into it from the road. A British warship, a large four stacker, was in one of the drydocks, undergoing repairs. Her armament was not very modern for she only had one gun turret.
We turned around and started back to the town. On our way, I got a salute from a squad of British bluejackets who were marching down the road. After gong through the town again, we drove around the northern face of the Rock, which, I believe, is steeper than any other. At the corner were two little heliograph stations, projecting a few feet out from the sides of the mountain. The northern end of the Rock faces the peninsula by which Gibraltar is connected to the mainland, and for this reason it has been strongly fortified by the English. About a thousand feet up the side of the cliff which forms this end, are rows of square holes cut out of the Rock, which are made for gun-ports. The only method of reaching them is the tunnels which have been cut through the heart of the mountain and which run to these batteries. It is impossible to scale the Rock here.
The Rock here is formed of limestone and several cement factories are situated here, deriving their raw material from the base of the Rock.
Leaving this spot, we drove around to the eastern face of the Rock which faces Catalan Bay. Here in a little hollow in the base of the Rock is the village of Catalan, which was founded by the crew and passengers of a Genoese sailing vessel that was wrecked here. The eastern face is as steep as the northern one, except in one place where there is a slope of about 45º which leads to within a hundred yards of the top. To prevent the Rock from being scaled at this point, the English have put a smooth coat of cement over the slope, making it so slippery that no foothold can be obtained.
Leaving Catalan, we drove northward till clear of the Rock, and then headed for Spanish territory. We soon came to a strip of barren ground, without houses or vegetation, called the “Neutral Ground,” which separates the English territory from the Spanish. On one side of this strip are the English sentries, and on the other, the Spanish. I paid off my cabby here, for he said that he wasn’t allowed to drive into Spanish territory, and walked across the neutral ground to Spain where the city of Linea is located.
At the entrance to the town, which was a gate in a wire fence which enclosed the neutral ground, were three or four Spanish soldiers who were doing duty as custom house inspectors. Three or four donkeys with baskets on each side, passed through the gate ahead of me, and as each one passed, the soldiers stuck sharp iron rods, a few feet long, through each basket. They let me pass without inspection. I didn’t stay long in Linea. It didn’t take five minutes to discover that the town was about fifteen shades worse than Sodom or Gomorrah, so I beat it back to Gibraltar. After getting supper there, and adding some postcards to my collection, I went down to the dock and returned to the ship in the seven o’clock boat. I had just $7.50 less on me than when I disembarked on the dock at one o’clock.
Today, after three straight days of liberty, I am on duty.
Aug. 6 I didn’t have much to do yesterday. I stood the signal watch on the bridge from 4 to 6 PM, and from 8 to 12 PM.
During the morning, a North German Lloyd steamer pulled out, and as she went by us, she dipped and her band played the Star Spangled Banner.
The only other exciting occurrence of the day was a fight on the forecastle between two sailors. The jimmy-legs, who are supposed to keep order on the ship kept order – in the crowd. They made everyone keep clear so as to form a ring, and prevented any shouts from the spectators which might have brought an officer to the scene and stopped the fight. The two men went at it with bare fists. The fight was exciting while it lasted. One of the participants was decidedly unpopular for he had a reputation of starting fights and then laying down. It happened about the same way this time. At first he lit into his opponent and cut his face open with several well-directed punches, but when the other man began to get together and landed on him a few times, even though he was not nearly so badly hurt as the other sailor, he said, “All right, we’ll call it square now,” and walked away. He ought to have been called square with a club.
Gibraltar nights are certainly cool and damp. Every night it gets so damp here from the fog that a film of vapor collects on the iron fittings of the ship, and even my clothes get wet.
Aug. 8 I went ashore Sunday afternoon at one o’clock and found that almost all of Gibraltar was closed up, so after spending an hour there, I took a carriage and drove over to Linea, a Spanish town just across the neutral ground from Gibraltar. I wandered around here for a few hours. All the houses here are low, white-washed, one-story buildings and are usually rather old. One or two of the streets are paved with cobblestones, but most of them are nothing more than dusty roads. The people are all ragged, and the town has not a prosperous appearance. I was besieged by beggars everywhere, some of whom were cripples and exhibited their injuries.
This was a gala day in the town for a bull-fight with four bulls was scheduled for the afternoon. I heard that it would probably be a tame affair, but I went to see it anyway.
At four o’clock, I went to the bull-ring, which was similar to the one at Algeciras. A large crowd of kids, selling paper bags stuffed with straw to sit on, surrounded the entrance, but I pushed through and bought a ticket for a seat “de sombra.” There are two kinds of seats, “de sombra” and “de sol,” in the shade and in the sun.
I got in and climbed up the seats to a row of stone seats situated near the top, close by the band and the alcalde’s box. It was about an hour before the fight was to start, but a fair-sized crowd had already gathered, and there was a continual roar on the inside of the ring from the vendors of grapes, cakes, wine, beer, and paper cushions.
The audience was mixed. On the side of the ring which contained the seats “de sombra” sat a large number of midshipmen, American sailors, and English sailors, together with a number of the well-to-do Spaniards. On the other side of the ring were the kids, and the poorer Spaniards. A company of Spanish soldiers with their rifles was placed in the seats near the ring.
At five o’clock the bull fight commenced. The matadors and banderilleros marched out of a gate opposite us and came across the ring toward the alcalde. The two matadors dressed in the traditional costume, led the way with a little boy, also dressed as a toreador, between them. Behind them came the banderilleros, dressed in the same manner, and the rear of the procession was closed by three mules decked out with gay trappings. On reaching the alcalde, the procession stopped, the toreadors bowed, the mayor threw down the key to the bull ring, and then the mules were driven out and the banderilleros scattered themselves around the circumference of the ring.
The band gave three ruffles, the door of the bull enclosure opened, and the first bull came forth. He stopped a moment, and then seeing a toreador waving a purple cape at him, put down his head and charged. The banderillero dodged and the bull slid by him. After chasing several others and missing each time, he began to paw up the earth and blow the dust through his nostrils. The banderilleros soon had him busy again, and there was plenty of excitement as the bull chased them around, but they were good dodgers and the bull’s horns would scrape by them every time.
The band gave a flourish at the direction of the alcalde, and the toreadors left the ring, each returning a moment later with a pair of banderillas, - iron darts fastened in sticks which are covered with colored paper. The first one got the bull’s attention by facing the bull and holding his banderillas above his head. The bull charged, and as he went by, the banderillero stepped aside and drove his darts into the bull’s shoulders. Then the bull got mad, and plunged bellowing around the ring trying to shake out the darts, but in vain. The other banderilleros took their turns, and soon there were about ten banderillas sticking in him. And now the band gave another flourish and the matador entered. He was dressed in a red suit, trimmed with black, and carried a red cape in one hand and a long narrow sword in the other.
Going up to the bull, he held out the cape with his sword beneath it, and as the bull charged, he stepped a little to one side and then flashed his cape in the bull’s eyes. He kept playing with the bull in this manner until he got him into the middle of the ring, and then prepared to kill him. He held the sword on a level with his eyes and extended it forward, aiming along it at a spot in the bull’s back. Then he waved his red cape, and as the bull started to charge, he drove the sword home almost to the hilt in the bull’s back. The bull staggered and then ran to the edge of the ring where he staggered and fell. He did not die immediately, however, so one of the attendants ran out and plunged a dagger into his brain. Then, amid the applause of the crowd, the three mules were brought forward and dragged the bull out at a gallop. The bull did not bleed at all.
The second bull then came out and the performance was repeated. A different matador came out to finish this one, but he bungled the job and in four attempts, only succeeded in plunging his sword in about a foot. The bull kept running around bellowing, and the spectators began to protest, so he tried again and this time managed to kill him. As soon as the bull dropped, some attendants ran down, pulled the banderillas from the bull’s shoulders, and went up to the spectators to sell them. I bought one for a shilling.
Bull number three was lively and the banderilleros had to keep on the move. Two had to jump over the barrier in order to escape. The first matador killed him on the first attempt.
The fourth and last bull was the best. He came into the ring on the run and started things immediately. One of the banderilleros didn’t step out of the way quickly enough and the bull’s sharp horns ripped his jacket up the back. Then two banderilleros took a cape, each holding one end and when the bull charged, they let him pass between them. They did this several times, but the last time, one of them misjudged his distance, the bull got his horns under him and sent him sailing over his head. The banderillero landed on his feet, and walked away, apparently unhurt. After they had stuck about a dozen banderillas into the bull, the matador who had made so many errors on the second bull, came out again to redeem himself. He did it. He aimed his sword at the bull, and when the bull charged, he plunged his sword into the very center of the bull’s back, driving it in clear to the hilt. He was too slow in dodging though, for the bull knocked him down and stepped on him as he rushed by. The matador was unhurt and rose to receive the tumultuous applause of the crowd for his good stroke. The bull staggered and went down in a few seconds.
I was rather glad that I had seen the bullfight for it was interesting and it was exciting. The toreadors exhibited great skill, and the bulls showed a large amount of fight. On the whole, however, I don’t think that I would care to see any more bull fights.
As soon as the last bull was finished, I left the arena and went back to Gibraltar in a carriage. On the way, I saw another carriage taking the matadors to a hotel, while a crowd of little kids was hanging on behind or chasing along by the side of the carriage.
I got into Gibraltar about six-thirty, bought a few postcards and got some ice cream. In Gibraltar they have the secret of making ice cream without using cream, as corn starch seems to them to be better (also cheaper). I arrived at the dock at seven PM and found the boat waiting.
Yesterday we coaled ship. Instead of using the collier, we coaled from lighters, small boats similar to canal boats, which were brought alongside. As we didn’t have to get forty feet down into a coal bunker to get the coal, it was much pleasanter for the wind immediately blew the dust away. One lighter nevertheless, had such dusty coal that before we finished her, I could scarcely keep my eyes open. We finished coaling at about four o’clock. I hiked for the wash room and by five o’clock was all clean, except for two rings of black around my eyes. I couldn’t get these washed away until today. I was in hopes that we would be allowed to go swimming after coaling but we weren’t. Saturday afternoon, a large part of the fellows went swimming from the ship’s side, but I happened to be on duty on the bridge at that time, so I couldn’t go in.
The rest of the evening I spent in lounging on the dock and in writing a few postals which were to leave the ship by the last mail this morning.
We were turned out at five o’clock this morning, had breakfast at six, and prepared to unmoor ship. At about eight o’clock the word was passed, “All hands unmoor ship,” and we immediately began to cast off the lines to the dock. The bumboatmen who had been aboard for the last week jumped onto the dock, and we sheered off and went out backwards. As soon as we cleared the end of the dock, we started ahead and went out of the harbor, past several British mail steamers which were lying in quarantine. A few minutes later, the Massachusetts and the Iowa cast off and flowed us out.
Scarcely had we cleared the dock and headed down the bay when the word was passed “All hands scrub clothes!” and in less than five minutes I was down on my knees on the forecastle, scrubbing clothes, and mighty glad of the chance for it was about two weeks since I had a chance to do it. And thus, to the merry scrape of the ki-yis, we passed out of Gibraltar.
I had a much better time there than I had anticipated, but it was with no feelings of regret that I saw the Rock sinking below the horizon as we went westward. It was not until about three o’clock that we finally lost sight of Spain and Africa and stood out in the open sea.
Our traveling formation has been altered. We now lead the column instead of being the end ship, while the Iowa has our old position. Our fleet is also larger by one ship, for the collier Vulcan which coaled us at Queenstown and Bergen, and the Iowa at Gibraltar, is following along in the wake of the Iowa. I think that she will go home with us.
The ship’s collection of pets is larger by a monkey and two canary birds than it was when we hit Gibraltar. We now have five dogs, Rags, Mutt, two unnamed dogs from Ireland, and Kiel, who hails from Germany; one goat named Bill; two white rats; one cat; one monkey; and two canary birds.
Aug. 10 We had smooth weather the first day out, but yesterday the weather was bad and the ships pitched a great deal. I was seasick for about half an hour, but after that I was all right. The weather is the same today and a number of fellows are still seasick.
Yesterday the German steamer Haake passed astern of us, evidently headed for South America. Today we passed a bark which was headed in the same direction.
The clothes which we scrubbed the first day out from Gibraltar were stopped on the forecastle line to dry, as usual, but on account of the waves and the spray which were continually breaking over our bow, the clothes didn’t get dry until this afternoon. When the order to pipe down was given, we went to get our clothes and found them a beautiful white in color. They were crusted with salt which could be easily tasted, and which made them about as stiff as a board.
From our new position, we can see the bows of the other ships, instead of their sterns. As the Massachusetts plows along, she buries her nose so deep in the waves that only her turrets are visible, and then as she comes up, the water pours down her sides in a foaming cataract. The Iowa has a higher forecastle, so she doesn’t get so wet. The Vulcan runs along smoothly, but once in a while she begins to roll a lot worse than we do.
We are having rather easy drills this week. All we have to do is learn the rules of the road and the lights which vessels carry in various circumstances.
Aug. 11 The chaplain gave another moving picture show on the port side of the quarterdeck last night. The films were all good and were much applauded. Music for the occasion was furnished by four mandolins and a guitar. The mandolins did good work but the guitar sounded as if it only had one string. The weather conditions were ideal and everyone was much pleased with the whole performance. I watched the show from the top of one of the eight-inch turrets, with a jimmy-legs behind me, constantly reminding me to keep clear of the edge.
I had all night in and only woke up twice, at twelve and at four, when they called the watches, so I turned out much refreshed at six and went on watch on the bridge at eight AM. We were to have a signal competition with the Massachusetts, and as the first classman in charge was very anxious to win, he rigged up a lot of special blocks and put three shifts of us on the ropes, with the result that we succeeded in winning two hoists out of sixteen, which was worse than we had ever done before with the regular signal apparatus and one shift.
I was only supposed to stand a four hour watch from eight to twelve AM, but as they set the clock back half an hour during my watch, I had to stand that also. Going to Europe we used to set the clock ahead, but we make up for it now by setting the clock back.
We aired our hammocks this morning. Instead of lashing them up and stowing them in the hammock nettings, we took them up on the skid deck and left them open to the sun for several hours.
Briggs passed the word out this afternoon that all midshipmen should scrub clothes, so I chased by bucket and ki-yi out on the forecastle and scrubbed two suits of works. I now have ten clean suits so I don’t intend to scrub any more clothes on this cruise.
The sea is calmer today than I have ever seen it before. The ship pitches slightly for there are always swells in the Atlantic, but today there are no waves at all, only little ripples that cover the swells. The water itself is a deep blue and looks so beautiful that it would almost be a pleasure to fall overboard. I understand that such a course is not advisable, however, for a second-classman fell over-board last year as the fleet was steaming into Marseilles, and this made the skipper so mad that he put the second-classman on the pap for fifty demerits for gross carelessness.
The same chart that was used to plot our daily position in crossing the Atlantic the first time is again being used to plot our course on the way home. At our present speed, we will pass southward of the Azores tonight or tomorrow morning.
We are traveling over the same course that Christopher Colon used in discovering America. He certainly had nerve to try it in three small ships when it’s a long journey even for us.
Aug. 12 The chaplain gave another moving picture show on the quarterdeck last night, but I had the ill luck to be on duty from eight to twelve PM so I didn’t see it. I had a good time on the bridge anyway, talking with the other fellows there about our experiences afloat and ashore. The night was very dark until ten o’clock when the moon rose, so our laughter at certain personal stories went unreprimanded for the officer of the deck couldn’t see who it was that laughed.
This morning at quarters, we had a captain’s inspection. While we were lined up on the starboard side of the forecastle waiting for the skipper to get around to us, we were kept in a continual roar, in which Lt. Bassett took part, by the antics of the monkey who was moored in front of our division. Rags, one of our Irish terriers, came up and tried to bluff the monk, but the monkey was right there and instead of looking scared, he opened his mouth as if he were going to take a piece out of Rags’ hide and then hit him about three punches with his fist. Rags beat it. The monkey then looked around for new fields to conquer and spotted Bassett’s muster-book. He grabbed it and after turning over a few leaves, ate one up. This was too much so Bassett had him removed.
Nothing more happened until the afternoon. The sea is so smooth that there aren’t even any ripples on the swells. Nevertheless, the ship pitches so much that occasionally one of the swells washes over the forecastle. This smoothness of the sea makes it possible for us to see the whole surface of the sea for miles around.
About three o’clock we saw small clouds of spray on the water a few miles ahead of us. A few minutes later, I saw a whale stick his forked tail out of the water and wave it as he went down. As we got closer, we could see that there were about six or seven young whales swimming through the water ahead of us, and blowing every few seconds. Most of them left in a hurry when we got within a few hundred yards, but there was one who lay asleep on the surface of the water and didn’t seem conscious of our approach. I went for my camera and took a position on the starboard bow where I could thrust it clear of the rail and the other fellows there. The whale lay directly in our path with the greater part of his back and head sticking out of the water. He was about twenty feet long. When we got within about a hundred feet of him, I snapped him and a second later he woke up to what was happening and went down with a flourish of his tail. He was the last whale we saw.
Aug. 13 Last night the chaplain showed us some slides of the Jeffries-Johnson fight. After the slide which showed Jeffries knocked down in the last round, the chaplain said, “Jeffries is not the only man who was ever put to sleep,” and then he threw that picture of Briggs, our exec, asleep on the after hatch, on the screen. Everybody laughed but Briggs.
I was on the lookout in the crow’s nest yesterday afternoon, for the second time this cruise. I got a fine view of the Massachusetts, the Iowa, and the Vulcan plowing along behind us, while all around I could look out over the smooth ocean. I witnessed the sunset from my position and saw the sun go down between two clouds which it lit up like a furnace. I also stood the lifebuoy watch from two to four AM on the starboard gallery.
The sea during the last few days has been unusually smooth. There has not been any wind strong enough to cause waves, but the motion of the ship through the air has always made it seem that there was a sufficient breeze blowing to keep us cool. The swells, however, make the ship pitch more than I have seen her do in what appeared to be fairly heavy storms.
Aug. 14 Yesterday afternoon the swells grew so large that we pitched wildly. The Massachusetts did the same, and her bow rose so high out of the water that we could see her ram and look along her keel. She almost stood on her stern several times. One of the swells came over our bow in a solid wall of water, wet everybody on the forecastle, washed the top of the thirteen-inch turret, and lifted a heavy steel hatch cover so high that its supports pulled out of their sockets and the hatch came down, nearly smashing some fellows who had been sitting under it. After that, the officer of the deck made everyone keep off the forecastle. The swells kept up all the afternoon but in the evening their place was taken by choppy waves that a rising wind caused.
I was on the lookout in the crow’s nest from four to six AM this morning. It was rather windy with a slight rain. Southwest of me was a fog bank. I took a look around the horizon and then looked at the east where the edge of the sun was just coming up over the water, with a thin veil of mist in front of it that left its outlines clear enough but removed all the sun’s brightness. The next moment I heard a voice from the speaking tube leading down to the bridge say “Lookout there!” I answered, “Hello.” “Do you see that ship over there on the port bow?” I looked, and where a moment before there had been nothing but a fogbank, a full rigged ship was now in full view, just clear of the fog. The man on the bridge said, “Well, get on the job!” which was my reprimand for not having reported the ship before it was seen on the bridge. It wasn’t altogether my fault, of course, for the ship appeared so suddenly.
The ship was about a mile away from us, going north, and we were headed right for her, so in a few minutes we approached rather close to her. We gave two toots on the steam whistle to indicate that we were changing our course to port so as to pass astern of her, for a steamship must keep clear of a sailing vessel. The sailing ship passed about one hundred yards ahead of us, and as she did so, she broke out a Norwegian flag and dipped it to us. A peculiar thing about this ship was the fact that she had the exact appearance of a frigate of about the period of 1812. I believe that she probably was once a man of war, for along her sides were two bands of white paint in which at intervals of about ten feet, were gun ports painted black. The guns, of course, were gone. She had all sail set upon her three masts, even up to the star-gazers, and as she went by, presented a fine appearance, giving us the closest view of a sailing ship under sail that we have obtained on this cruise.
The Norwegians have a reputation of taking wooded ships about a hundred years old, and going out to sea with them, so this ship was probably a converted wooden warship.
I laid down from aloft at six AM and on the way down the mast, I passed the new lookout going up. He knew what had happened to me. Scarcely had he been on the lookout for five minutes, when exactly the same thing happened to him that had happened to me. A ship burst out of a fogbank on the starboard bow and the men on the bridge saw it while the lookout didn’t report it at all. The officer of the deck called his attention to the new ship, through the speaking tube, at the same time getting sarcastic. “You are up there as a lookout!” he shouted up the tube to my successor when the latter failed to report the ship a whole minute after we saw it from the deck.
Aug. 16 Last night I stood watch on the bridge from eight to ten PM, but I had to stay on the bridge deck until twelve, so after being relieved at ten, I went to sleep on the deck with my jersey for a pillow. About eleven thirty, it suddenly started to rain, and I had to get up in a hurry for in a few seconds, streams of water were running across the deck. The man next to me woke up to find himself lying in a pool of water.
A large number of midshipmen thought that the gun deck was too warm, so they swung their hammocks up on deck last night. It took only a few minutes for the heavy rain to fill those hammocks up with water and soon dripping midshipmen in soaked pajamas were tumbling out of them and chasing around the decks looking for a dry spot to stand. They finally had to take their wet hammocks and blankets below and sleep on the deck.
The commissary is making a grand finish. We had to throw overboard all the fresh meat that we got in Gibraltar because it was no good, but we have a large supply of canned Willie, canned salmon, and a bunch of other canned stuff which we like a lot better, and the baker turns out some pies or cakes every few days which are swell. Our baker makes some of the finest pies that I’ve ever tasted.
There is a rumor floating around the ship that we disembark the 26th of August instead of the 29th. All sorts of rumors have floated around since we started on the cruise, most of which only turned out to be rumors, but I hope that this one is true.
I was sleeping on the port side of the forecastle this afternoon alongside of a marine, when I heard a roar as a wave struck the side of the ship, and then, even before I was awake, I was on my feet and hiking for the door in the bulkhead. Just as I got to it the wave struck me, knocked me through the door, and soaked me clear through from head to foot. That woke me up, and I found myself standing with my shoes oozing water in a compartment half full of the ocean. The marine got through the door ahead of me so he was only wet to the waist.
Aug. 18 Night before last the fleet had a searchlight drill at about eight o’clock. Each ship had her six searchlights lit, and for a while eighteen streaks of lights were playing at random over the water. Sometimes a beam would be invisible because it was playing in clear air, and sometimes, after showing a clear light in the sky for several hundred yards, a beam would break off abruptly because the clouds which reflected the light ended there. After about ten minutes of this, the lights were worked in concert as they would be in wartime to guard against a torpedo-boat attack. The lights on each side of the ship swept the water on that side, each light covering a certain arc close to the ship at first. Gradually the lights were elevated and the water from the ship to the horizon was carefully covered so that any torpedo-boat in sight would be detected. The nine searchlights on each side of the fleet slowly moving forward together, and then suddenly moving back, only to come forward again a little farther out from the column, looked like the teeth of a rake going over the grass.
Yesterday morning the fleet did some maneuvering. Right after breakfast we changed our course to starboard and increased the speed half a knot. The Massachusetts went by us headed to port and the Iowa came up in the middle. In half an hour the Massachusetts was about six miles away on our port beam and the Iowa was about three miles away in the same direction. The collier followed about a mile behind the Iowa. We covered quite a bit of the ocean in that formation. We couldn’t see the hull of the Massachusetts at all, and the Iowa wasn’t any too clearly defined. The officers cast loose the range-finders in the fighting tops and on the skeleton mast, and we were soon theoretically blowing the other ships out of the water.
We changed the formation to a triangular one in a few minutes, with the collier in the middle and the Iowa at the vertex of the triangle. After running that way for a few hours, the ships closed up again, and we were traveling in our old formation, with the Iowa leading, the Massachusetts next, and we last. The collier is following in our rear. I think that we will finish our cruise in this order.
Yesterday afternoon, I discovered a way to get some fine hot toast. The blacksmith had left his portable forge with a heap of red coals still glowing in it and a pair of pincers lying across the coals. A second classman and I swiped about six slices of bread from the baker and toasted them on the pincers, blowing up the fire occasionally with the bellows. The scheme worked finely, and the bread came out of the forge as the finest toast that I’ve tasted for a long while. It also happened that there was a butter dish left from dinner, nearby, and we smeared the butter on liberally. It melted as soon as it touched the hot toast, giving us some fine, hot, buttered toast which almost melted in our mouths.
I had to go up to the crow’s nest as the lookout yesterday afternoon. When I got up to the second fighting top, I found the floor of it almost covered with beans which some seasick lookout had shot out of the crow’s nest. He must have been a very good marksman to hit the fighting top from the crow’s nest.
Each day our position on the chart in the bulletin board gets closer to dear old Chesapeake Bay. At our present speed, we ought to strike Cape Henry some time Monday night. I would like to be the lookout when we sight the lighthouse that we lost below the horizon one night three months ago. There will certainly be some excitement when the lookout sings out, “Light, ho!”
Two days ago a fellow in the crow’s nest felt morally certain that he would get seasick if he had to stay up there a minute more than necessary, so when he was relieved he was in such a hurry to get down that instead of climbing down the rope ladder, he slid down the mast. The skipper saw him do it and took the lookout down into his cabin to reprimand him. “I ought to put you on the report for ‘foolhardy descent from the lookout’ but I won’t do it,” he said. “You might have fallen overboard and been drowned. Of course I don’t mind that, but the Navy Regulations require me to stop the ship and make an attempt to save you, and if I did that, there might be some danger of a collision with the ships behind us. So never come down that way again.”
Aug. 20 I was up in the lookout yesterday from two to four PM during a rather hard storm. The rain came down in torrents but I didn’t get wet as I had on a suit of oilskins. The pitching of the ship was especially noticeable up in the lookout station, and it made me seasick for a while.
We had a lecture by the carpenter yesterday on the ship’s steering gear and on the ship in general. He told us that holystoning the decks is a bad practice for it wears the decks out rapidly. Sailors all agree that holystoning decks ought to be discontinued. A few months ago some of the sailors on the Indiana decided to put an end to holystoning the decks so some of them got up at midnight and threw all the holystones overboard. The next morning the boatswain got even with them, however, for he brought up a bunch of sandpaper from the hold and made the crew get down on their knees and sandpaper the forecastle.
Aug. 21 We had only 167 miles left to do this noon. We will certainly get into the bay some time tonight.
We ran along until three PM headed for home, and then we started to go in circles. The Massachusetts started to circle to the left and we started to circle to the right at half speed. The Iowa and the Vulcan followed us. Before long, we were headed east instead of west, and the Massachusetts was so far away that we could barely see her. This maneuver is called “Swinging ship” and is for the purpose of determining the errors of the ship’s compass. None of us are very enthusiastic about it for it has taken us off our course and will make us arrive several hours later than we expected.
I was in the lookout during the process of swinging ship and stayed there a half hour longer than I was supposed to, for the midshipman in charge of our division forgot to send anyone to relieve me.
From the very start the scenery was great. We traveled along the very edge of a fiord which went directly inland. We had rugged cliffs rising up on each side of us, while right underneath the water of the fiord was a deep blue right up to the very edge. At first we saw few farms, and these were very small, having only a few acres. They had no real soil, the hay growing from a covering of the two or three inches of dirt which lay over the bedrock. Layers of rock would stick right up in the middle of a field. The houses were small huts of stone with a dirt roof from which grass and other things grew.
As we got farther into the interior, the fields became larger, but we saw not one which would compare with a small American farm.
We spent most of the time passing through tunnels of which there must be at least a hundred along the line which we traveled. This road is said to be the most expensive in the world and it ought to be for it is almost all tunnels.
We made two or three short stops but not to take on passengers for our train was a special. About one o’clock we began to spot patches of snow in the mountain tops and soon we passed above the timberline, which is, of course, lower in Norway than it is in America. The mountains were still green, however, for they were covered with grass and other small plants. A few peaks however had nothing at all on them and stood a dark gray against the green of the others. Snowsheds now became frequent, and between snowsheds and tunnels, we were undercover almost all the time. We had now left the fiord far behind us and were traveling along a mountain stream which had the most beautiful turquoise and green color that I have yet seen.
At 2:50 PM, we arrived at Finse and disembarked. Immediately we all entered the large dining room of the hotel and had the finest dinner which I have eaten in Europe. After dinner, which was of six courses, we wandered around Finse for about twenty minutes. We could see the glacier a short distance away, and a few of the fellows ran up to one of the snowfields to roll in the snow.
Finse consists only of one fine hotel where we ate dinner, and three other buildings. It is a general stopping place for tourists who take skis, which we saw at the hotel, and go skiing in the mountains on the snowfields. None of us did though.
We left Finse at 4:20 PM. The roll was called before leaving, and two second-classmen were found absent. They didn’t show up so we pulled out without them.
Our first stop on the way back was at Myrdal where we stayed for three quarters of an hour. We walked from the station to Vatnahalsen where I obtained the finest view which I have yet seen. Right below us we could see the road snaking back and forth beneath us as it descended into the depths. That road was the steepest and most winding road I ever saw. A sign posted at the top and having a legend in German, French, and English said, “Be gentle against the hill, walk the horse.”
A short stretch of canyon, about a mile long, which is a fine imitation of the Grand Canyon, had at its farther end a small waterfall which fell from the top clear to the bottom of the valley. The view from Vatnahalsen alone is worth coming to Norway to see.
I dropped into Vatnahalsen Hotel and registered. Then we all hiked back up a steep road to the train. The road formed a stiff climb, so we were all dusty and tired when we got back. Immediately after leaving Myrdal, we entered the longest tunnel on the road. It took us just eight minutes and seventeen seconds to go through it on the downgrade.
After leaving the tunnel, we passed down rapidly, shooting by cataracts, sighting a fine view every little while, and all feeling happy. While it was close to seven PM, no one had noticed in the least that we had been traveling all day as everything was so interesting.
A little after seven, we stopped at Voss and had supper served in the hotel there. It hadn’t been so long since we had had an excellent dinner so no one was really hungry, but the supper was swell, so we all dug into it. It was served by waitresses dressed in Norwegian costumes.
After dinner we took a view of the beautiful farms lying on the slopes of the valley, and then returned to the hotel where we spent the few minutes left in singing “Anchors Aweigh” and other Navy songs. We left at eight PM.
From there we rode down into Bergen. At every stop we made, little kids came out to sell us dishes of huckleberries and other berries, and so we pleasantly finished the journey. We arrived at the station about eleven, were again mustered, and then fell out to walk to the pier. The Iowa bunch immediately left in their boats, but no boats came for us till nearly twelve so I hung around the wharf until then. The wait was far from tedious, for far down the fiord at almost twelve PM we could see the last rays of the setting sun gilding the clouds. In addition, some native musician in a small boat played us some beautiful music on an accordion while someone else pulled him along. We applauded every piece so he played on till our boats came and took us off at midnight, putting an end to a most enjoyable day. Coontz and Lt. Enochs accompanied us on the trip and I believe that they enjoyed it as much as we did. Coontz is right there in fixing things up for us. The whole cost of the excursion, meals and all, was only $3.50.
On returning to the ship, I received the first answer to one of my letters, just a month and two days after I mailed the letter in Queenstown.
There is a cosmopolitan collection of yachts and steamers in Bergen harbor. The strangest one is a Turkish yacht, and the queer thing about it is that there is an English yacht in the harbor which is an exact counterpart of the Turkish one. On the Turkish one’s deck we saw the owner, a small man in European clothes, smoking a cigar, but crowned by a fez. At the wharf we saw one of the small boats belonging to the yacht with a sailor on it. He was dressed in regulation sailor costume, but wore a bright crimson fez with a tassel. He had some Turkish characters written in red on his chest, evidently the name of the yacht.
The Norwegian boats themselves would attract attention anywhere. If they are any improvement over the boats of the Vikings, the fact is not evident from a casual inspection. They have but one mast, upon which a large square sail is spread making the boat look for all the world like a boat of the eleventh century. Instead of a bowsprit, the timber to which the side timbers are fastened rises straight up for about ten feet, and it only needs a carved dragon’s head on top to make one think that he’s up against some pirates.
One of the things which added interest to our Finse trip was the printed itinerary furnished by the tourist bureau from which we got our tickets. The things done to the English language would make anyone laugh. On the back cover were advertised Norwegian souvenirs, “Artfully decorated.”
In another place some antique furniture was advertised with the following guarantee, “All antiquities granted genuine old.”
While we were still sailing over the bounding deep, one of the quartermasters told me that when we got to Bergen, the people would come out and sing to us during the midwatches. I didn’t think it possible then but it happened. A few nights ago when I was on the midwatch, a boat approached us at about one AM, and when within about fifty yards, a male quartet cast loose and opened up on us with some Norwegian song. It certainly is romantic to lean over the rail during the twilight at one AM and listen to the voices of the singers coming across the water. I almost imagined that I was in Venice.
July 22 I was on the lifebuoy watch and in the running boat crew yesterday. I stood watch from 12 to 2 PM and from 8 to 12 PM. During my night watch I walked up and down the quarterdeck with a third class quartermaster and heard him recite selections from various poets from Shakespeare to Longfellow. About eleven o’clock we sent our boats ashore to bring off the second half of our midshipmen who went to Finse. It had started to rain rather heavily about nine so the crowd got wet coming off.
They had the latest news from Finse. The commandant went back to Finse again yesterday to see if they could get news of the two fellows who were missing. No trace but a midshipman’s hat has been found. The two fellows have overstayed their liberty now for two days and unless they have a darn good excuse when they get back, neither will get any September leave. It is, of course, possible that something happened to them, but both of them have rather bad records for conduct so it seems more probable that they just broke liberty.
The running boat made only one trip yesterday so I didn’t have to pull much. We shoved off and rowed leisurely past the Massachusetts and down to where the Iowa was coaling. Her decks were covered with coal and dirty midshipmen were hustling coal bags around. We were making casual remarks about the pleasures of coaling, to no one in particular, when suddenly we all stopped talking and started rowing diligently for we noticed the eyes of “Buck” Enochs upon us. After that we pulled back to the Indiana where we had to make two landings because our coxswain made the first landing in rotten style.
This morning the race for the Lysistratus Cup, presented by James Gordon Bennett, was rowed in the harbor. At 9:30 we fell in for quarters, but the exec belayed the formation and had all the midshipmen and crew piped aft to see the race.
We couldn’t make out the different boats at the start, but when the boats were half way down the course, we could see that the middle one had a lead, and when a minute later the exec, who had the biggest telescope on board focused on the boats, shouted, “The middle boat is the Indiana’s!” we all went wild. From then on we were howling continually, “Come on, Indiana!” and at a distance of a half mile from the finish it looked like our race for our lead was about ten lengths. At a quarter mile, it began to look doubtful for the other two boats began to close up, but that only lasted for a few seconds. With our shrieks in their ears, our crew began to stretch themselves and made their lead bigger and bigger. We finally shot across the line fifty yards ahead of the Massachusetts, which led the Iowa by a length, and the Lysistratus Cup was ours for another year for the Indiana also won it last year.
As soon as the other two boats had finished they were towed to the flagship where our crew received the cup. Then the crew left the Iowa and as they approached us in the admiral’s barge, the entire crew, officers, midshipmen, and bluejackets, assembled on the quarterdeck to meet them. The boatswain piped them over the side, and as they came up the gangway, the captain shook hands with each man.
The captain then made a speech congratulating us upon our victory, and also expressing his pleasure at the success which we were having on this cruise, saying that it was the best cruise which he had made. We all agreed with him. The captain then led in three cheers for the crew, and after that we finished off with a four N yell upon which we just about split our lungs. It was great to see the way the officers, some of whom have been out of the Academy for twenty years, come down with that N-N-N-N. Grahame, our chief engineer officer, nearly had apoplexy from shouting.
We were due to have a very rigid captain’s inspection of the whole ship this morning, but in consideration of our victory, the captain let it go.
July 23 I went ashore on liberty yesterday in a pouring rain, which, however, only lasted a few minutes. I made my usual round up and down the Torvetgarden and then walked down the peninsula toward the bathing beach. There is no beach there, for the shore is rocky, but a terrace on the pavilion furnishes a substitute for it.
I didn’t get to the pavilion, for on the way I stopped to sit down on a bench overlooking the harbor and our ships, and while there I talked with an old Norwegian who sat down beside me. His English was rusty at first, but he soon limbered up. He said that he had been the skipper of a brig that ran to New York in 1870, but since then he had stayed in Norway.
Upon his advice, I began to climb a high mountain in the rear of the town. A series of steep stone steps led to the road going up. Before I got very far, the raincoat which I had brought with me from the ship began to feel uncomfortably heavy, so I left it at the halfway house and continued my climb. A few yards farther along I met two bluejackets from the Massachusetts also going up, and went the rest of the way with them. We had a pretty good time going up, for the road was smooth and the rocks and small lakes which we passed were interesting. It was not very steep climbing, for the road crossed back and forth across the face of the mountain, making a large number of sharp turns. Towards the end of our climb, the road became so soft and springy that it felt as if we were walking on air cushions, although it was almost covered with small stones.
We finally reached the top, upon which was built two stone monuments. From there we could look down into the harbor, or seeing the fiords winding in and out among the mountains, or looking farther out toward the west, we could see the Atlantic Ocean with its smooth face reflecting the rays of the sun. A few minutes later, clouds began to drift around us and below us, so we started to descend. We didn’t care to follow the road going down, so we took the first likely looking place and started down the face of the mountain. We soon wished that we hadn’t for we came to a pretty steep cliff, but as we didn’t care to go back up again to the road, we began to climb down it. The first bluejacket made it safely and then I started. I made almost all of it without much trouble, but when about ten feet from the bottom, I slipped on a wet rock and went down the rest of the way headfirst. Fortunately I landed on a patch of moss with which the mountain is covered and so I wasn’t hurt in the least, although I got rather wet from the moss. The other sailor got down without mishap. After that we stuck to the road until we reached the halfway house, where we stopped for supper. Our chief boatswain and our gunner were there, and a few minutes later “Buck” Enochs and two other lieutenants arrived. I and the two sailors got a swell meal with some fine strawberries and cream for only two kroners.
After supper, we descended the remainder of the way and reached the town at half past eight just three and a half hours after I started. I wandered around town for half an hour, buying a few cards, and then returned to the ship. I didn’t have any watch so I had all night in.
This morning we did not sail, as we were scheduled to do. Lt. Brown said that we would sail at 8 AM tomorrow. The delay was made to enable the officers to attend a ball in town today, I believe. There are all sorts of rumors floating around the ship however. Some say that we have received orders to sail on the thirty-first for the Azores, and not to go to Gibraltar at all.
Lt. Brown says that the two missing second classmen had been traced part of the way to Christiania, and then been seen yesterday in Bergen. It seems that after leaving us, they went to Christiania, stayed there a day, and then returned to Bergen. They have not yet returned to their ship. They will certainly get a hot reception from Coontz when they return.
July 24 The lost have been found. Some of the Norwegian Secret Service men who were working on the case discovered our two wanderers living in a house about fifteen miles from Finse. They notified the commander and Lt. Van Auken went up and arrested them. He brought them back to the ship this morning, after they had been missing three days. They were well supplied with cash, one of them having five hundred dollars in his possession when arrested. They evidently had no intention of returning to the ship in this port at least, for they were not found until this morning, and we were to have sailed yesterday. Some trouble about cash arrangements in Gibraltar delayed our departure until today. Both of them will certainly be dismissed when we get back to the United States, unless they are disrated instead and made to serve three years as ordinary seamen.
Our delayed departure was said to be because we weren’t going to Gibraltar at all on account of some trouble down there between France and Germany over Morocco. Their dope was all wrong for we will sail for Gibraltar some time this evening. We are getting up our anchors now, a rather hard job because we have so much chain out. The Iowa, by the way, recovered the anchor which she lost. After many ineffectual attempts to get it by grappling, one of the gunner’s mates went down in a diving suit and secured it.
We had an informal boxing tournament on the forecastle yesterday afternoon. I fought three rounds with another youngster with whom I had some trouble on the Killarney trip. We had a pretty hard fight but I beat him. When we finished he was bleeding pretty freely from the punches which he got around his head. I came out with only a slightly swollen lip. Our fight was the liveliest of the bunch and we had about the whole ship’s company as spectators before we finished. The turrets and the deck were covered with sailors and midshipmen, while the rail was left clear in order to afford an unobstructed view to the large number of shore boats which gathered around the ship’s side.
In the evening, one of the sailors got an accordion from a rowboat alongside and we had a musical entertainment. The other sailors sang while he played.
It was of course my luck to strike the mid-watch last night, so I had to get up at twelve and stay on the bridge till four AM. There was nothing to do but to watch the ripples running over the bay and listen to the different songs from various small boats. Bergen appears to be a dead town at night, for, outside of a few red and green lights to mark the various piers, there was not a single light in all the town.
July 26 We got up anchor in the evening of the twenty-fourth. The Iowa and Massachusetts got theirs up first and steamed out of the harbor at six PM. Our two anchor chains got fouled and it took us two hours longer before we got underway. A few small boats tried to follow us out, but we soon dropped them astern. This was the first time that we have steamed yet without the other two ships in front of us. We passed out of the fiord in a few hours and started out to sea. Our ship passed through a large German fleet which was headed in for Bergen. The Iowa and the Massachusetts were waiting for us a short distance out at sea.
I had all night in. When I awoke in the morning, we were running in a rough sea which did not agree very well with all the fancy grub which I had been eating ashore. I didn’t really get seasick, but I couldn’t help shooting my grub over the rail. After that I was all right. A large number of fellows got seasick in the morning, but by evening, we all were well again.
Nothing of interest occurred. We sighted several small sails, but none came near us. About noon, we sighted the Shetland Islands south of us, and passed around them. We are due to sail north of Scotland and Ireland and then to go south to Gibraltar. The weather has been cold. We struck our coldest night of the cruise on the first night out.
I had the eight to twelve PM watch on the bridge last night. The sea was smooth, but it was rather cold so the quartermaster allowed us to go down on the skid deck and sit on the lee side of the forward stack.
This morning we had a fire, a collision, and an abandon ship drill. We didn’t abandon the ship however, merely standing by the boats. Our other drills this week have consisted of writing up various parts of the ship.
July 27 We passed northward of Scotland already, and turned south yesterday. In the evening we sighted some of the Hebrides Islands, and a little later, about eight o’clock, we sighted some barren rocks sticking out of the water at an apparent distance of about two miles. There were about seven islands altogether, every one sticking straight up from the water, ragged and rocky, with not a single smooth slope in the bunch. About nine o’clock when the sun began to set, it came out from behind the clouds and gilded them a beautiful yellow. I had already turned in, but I got out of my hammock to see that. I learned later that they were the St. Hilda Islands. We were seven and a half miles from them when we passed.
I turned out at twelve PM to go on watch. It was raining and blowing rather hard. I spent only one hour on the bridge and the other three trying to sleep in the lee of the after stack. I woke up at three AM to find both my legs lying in a pool of water, and spent the time till four AM hanging my legs down the well by the stack trying to dry them. I turned in at four in my hammock and woke up at seven AM to discover that someone had appropriated my sweater.
The sea has been smooth for the last two days. The barometer dropped last night, a sign of a storm, but it passed us by.
We scrubbed hammocks yesterday. I was going to let one of the colored mess-boys scrub mine, but when I learned that the cost was seventy-five cents, I changed my mind. Money is rather scarce on the ship at present, so I scrubbed it myself.
I learned a little inside history of the navy from Clickner, the boatswain’s mate from Denver, a few days ago. Back in 1901, when the Pacific Fleet of four cruisers, the California, the Colorado, the Maryland, and the West Virginia, and about six gunboats and five torpedo boats were lying in Shanghai harbor, there was a rather large Japanese war-scare in this country. One evening, the fleet saw three Japanese cruisers come in the harbor, stay a few minutes, and leave again. Later in the evening, they saw the whole Japanese fleet cross and recross the horizon several times. That looked suspicious, so all the men were called to quarters, the magazines opened, and the guns kept loaded and ready, with ammunition on the deck, all that night. Nothing happened, but the sailors are convinced that if they hadn’t taken those precautions, the Japs would have come in and blown them out of the water, in the same way they did the Russians in Chemulpo harbor when they started the war by running into the harbor and sinking the unprepared Russian ships.
Clickner was on the Oregon on the Asiatic station during the Russo-Japanese War, and saw a lot of it. He said that one night while they were in Chefoo, a Russian cruiser, a five-stacker, came shooting into the harbor, filled full of holes, with three Jap cruisers in hot pursuit firing at her. The Japs turned back as soon as she got into the port for she was then in neutral waters. The Russian had her bow shot away and her decks covered with wounded men. The Chinese disarmed her, and kept her till the end of the war.
Another time, when our fleet sailed out of Manila to maneuver, they spotted four ships sneaking along the coast. We steamed over to them and found that they were four Russian cruisers, looking like sieves, which had escaped the Japs and were trying to get to Manila. Our fleet escorted them there and disarmed them by taking away their breech-plugs. The ships stayed there the rest of the war, and Clickner says that they were glad of it.
July 28 We had a regular flood on deck yesterday evening. The rain came down so hard that we had to put on rainclothes to go on deck for thirty seconds in order to receive our hammocks. The rain only lasted for a short time and then left us.
We are going to have a smoker when we get to Gibraltar. The officers will contribute $100, and everybody else on board will dig up a dollar so we will have an expensive blowout. We are going to have boxing matches, a battle royal, and a number of special acts.
I saw one of the most unexpected and out-of-place performances on the forecastle this morning that could be found on a battleship. One sailor with a large husky fist was sitting on the anchor chain while another sailor was manicuring his nails. Both of them were taking it seriously, too.
July 29 At eight o'clock this morning we were a few hundred miles west of Brest. We crossed our course going to Queenstown, yesterday.
Ever since arriving off the coast of France, we have been sighting sailing vessels, mostly small ones. This morning we saw one four-masted bark which was the largest that we’ve seen yet. She was about four miles away, but we could make her out plainly with the telescopes. She had five sails rigged on each of her three forward masts. She hoisted her international signal letter but at the distance we were unable to make it out. About five minutes after first sighting her, she ran into a fogbank which we couldn’t see at all and completely disappeared from view. When she reappeared all her sails, except those on her aftermast, were furled. She tacked several times before we finally lost sight of her so we obtained various views of her.
Soon after, we ran into a rainstorm which lasted for half an hour. The captain was to have made an inspection of the ship and the crew, but the rain cut it short.
After the rain, we ran close to a school of porpoises. They came racing toward the ship, going at high speed and leaping clear out of the water every twenty yards. They chased us for about twenty minutes during which time we could see fins cleaving the water and fish shooting over the surface, all around us.
While I was on the bridge, Lt. Brown read us an order from the flagship, saying that we would increase our speed and that we probably reach Gibraltar a day ahead of time although we left Bergen a day and a half late.
The food has been as good lately as during the beginning of the cruise. Last Sunday we got a whole spring chicken apiece for dinner and our ordinary meals are fine.
The sailors have already begun to paint some scenery for the stage at the smoker. The drop is to represent the Rock of Gibraltar. While they were discussing where to begin, one of the sailors remarked, “We ought to put the ground coat on first. Then we can all go ashore.”
I have got a fine job for next week. I am additional aide to the exec and I get all night in every night. It’s quite a graft.
We were some distance north on this trip. We went as far north as the southern part of Greenland, the center of Hudson Bay, or Sitka, Alaska. We are now getting down to a latitude where the sun sets at a civilized time. It seems queer to us, however, to have the sun set at seven-thirty instead of half past eleven. It is also getting warmer. For the first time since our departure from Crabtown, the uniform has not been sweaters. Someone considerately took my sweater a few days ago, doubtless to prevent me from hitting the pap for being out of uniform.
July 30 When I went to sleep last night, the wind was getting rather strong and when I turned out at six AM to go on watch on the starboard side of the superstructure, the sea was certainly rough. The wind was dead ahead and blew so hard that it was impossible to stand up out on the gallery so I came in and finished my watch inside the bulwarks. About six-thirty we ran into a thick fog and it immediately began to rain so hard that the decks were wet in no time. The wind blew the rain so that it was horizontal and shot it into our faces so hard that I couldn’t keep my eyes open when facing it. The fog horn began to toot at intervals of one minute, one long toot and two short ones being our signal. Spray from the tops of the waves was flying all around and the waves broke over the decks. The rain stopped at about eight o’clock and the wind died away soon after but a heavy sea kept running all the rest of the day. A number of the fellows got seasick, but I did not.
The chaplain cut his morning sermon rather short, saying that this was one of the days when a poor sailor like himself did not feel at his best.
We are now getting so far south that it is not cold any more although it is windy. We are at present somewhere off Cape Finisterre.
July 31 The water has been getting bluer every day. It is now a very deep indigo but it has a certain sparkle in it as the wind blows it around, that makes it look fine.
We are now well down the coast of Portugal. We got our first glimpse of it today shortly before noon in the shape of two dim peaks thirty miles away from us. As we went south we kept getting closer to land so that we can now see coast plainly although we are still twelve miles away. The coast consists of land sloping down to the water but there are several fairly high cliffs along the shore. We can see one large white house surmounted by a tower which stands on a cliff while behind it are numerous small houses, all painted white. The coast does not appear green, but brown.
About noon, we passed the entrance to the Tagus River and at that time we were only forty miles from Lisbon. We could see several large steamers going up and down the coast.
I didn’t have anything to do today, so I spent most of the time sleeping on the forecastle along with about half of the crew. The sun kept the deck planks warm so we had a pleasant, though hard, place to sleep on. Occasionally, however, a cloud of spray would be blown over the deck and wet somebody, but no one minded this much. And thus we lay and talked and slept while we steamed down the coast of Portugal.
The deck force is painting the ship today, and about everything except the decks is covered with fresh gray paint which we occasionally rub off on our white clothes, giving them a delightfully dirty appearance which is much appreciated since we have to scrub our own clothes.
The order came over today from the flagship that the first conduct grade would get daily liberty from one to seven PM and the other grades only one liberty. I think we have to get back at seven instead of nine-thirty because the sun sets so much earlier in Gibraltar than it did in Bergen. We are only going to draw one-half a pound here. I have half a pound left from Bergen so I have a pound altogether but $4.87 won’t go very far in Gibraltar, I fear.
August 1 I had to stand the lookout watch from 8 to 10 PM on the bridge, and from 10 to 12 PM I stood the lifebuoy watch on the port gallery. I was never so sleepy before on the cruise as I was on that lifebuoy watch. If anybody had fallen overboard, I think that they would have had to do without the lifebuoy, for on account of my drowsiness, I walked into the scuppers about four times while I paced up and down the gallery and if it hadn’t been for the rail, I would have walked off into the water.
The nights here are very different from those we saw up north. Here it grew dark about eight o’clock, and a short while later the sky was filled with brilliant stars while a crescent moon rose for a short distance above the horizon and added to the beauty of the scene. And all the while I stumbled along my gallery, bumping first the bulwarks and then the rail.
We passed Cape St. Vincent early this morning and then headed due east for Gibraltar. Nelson landed on the French fleet right off this cape, and all the waters around here are full of historic associations. The chaplain gave a short talk on the berth deck this afternoon on the history of the places which we were passing.
Our marks for the second month of the cruise were posted today. I stood one in conduct with a 4.0; one in the subject “Practice Cruise” with a 3.78; and two in aptitude with a 3.72.
Aug. 2 Yesterday the sailors brought the phonograph up on deck and we had a concert on the forecastle as we steamed along.
In order to avoid arriving at Gibraltar during the middle of the night, we cut down the speed so that we only went at seven knots an hour.
I had the mid watch last night on the bridge. I turned in at nine and woke up rather unwillingly to go up on deck to stand my watch. The night was very dark for although the sky was filled with stars, there was no moon. Shortly after coming on watch, we picked up the light on Cape Trafalgar when we were about twenty miles away from it. Nelson put the finishing touches on the French and Spanish here. At the same time we picked up the light on Cape Spartel, the north-western corner of Africa. Every thirty minutes the officer of the deck would fix our position on the chart from the bearings of these two lights. The water was the smoothest that we’ve met yet, and we gently slid though it. The officer of the deck, Lt. Bassett, kept us all laughing at his jokes.
About one o’clock the lookout was instructed to keep a bright watch for the Tariffa Lighthouse, which he ought to see about one point on the port bow when we were seventeen miles from it. Shortly after he reported that he saw it on the horizon but when we looked we found that it was a star. We finally picked up the light at 1:30 AM.
I turned in at four AM and woke up at six AM to hear the chief jimmy-legs telling me to rise and shine. “Wake up and see the Rock,” he added. I told him that the Rock could go to (Ed: no missing word) for all I cared, but I had to get up anyway. I looked out of a porthole and saw the outline of the Rock through the morning mist.
After dressing I went on deck and found that we were remarkably close to the African side. We could see the African Pillar of Hercules standing out above the surrounding mountains, with ledges of rock protruding which looked a great deal like white quartz.
The Rock of Gibraltar rose on our port side in its familiar outlines. We could see the rocky southern face as we steamed toward it, with the town nestling at its western base. A slight mist hung around it, but when it cleared, we could see that the sides of the Rock had been well fortified.
We stopped at the entrance to Gibraltar Bay and each ship took on a pilot. We then stopped while the Iowa and the Massachusetts went in, rounded the breakwater, and then tied up to the inside of it. After they got in, we went ahead slowly and tied up to the inboard side of the mole with about eight seven-inch cables. They certainly ought to hold us.
The city of Gibraltar rises in terraces a short distance up the rock, looking somewhat like Queenstown. Directly across the bay, about fifteen miles from us, the Spanish city of Algerciras lies like a white blanket on the edge of the bay.
The big fleet was here in 1909 when it went around the world. The sailors claim that Admiral Evans said that he could take the fort in twenty-fours with his fleet. The story is doubtful, I think. While our fleet lay here then, seven Russian warships were also in the harbor. It happened that a Russian sailor struck his officer on board one of their ships and the Russian admiral asked permission of the English commander of the station to hang the man in the harbor. His request was not granted, so the Russian ship steamed out, hanged the man, and then returned.
I just received some letters and some money from home so I guess that I will be able to have a fine time here after all.
Contrary to the order published at the beginning of the cruise that no liberty would be given on the days of arrival in ports, we were given liberty in the afternoon. We broke out our whites and went ashore in white uniforms instead of in blue. We landed at the King’s Stairs in the royal dockyard, and after passing through several walls, we entered the town. Gibraltar is the first walled city that I have seen. It has high stone walls all along the water’s edge with gun ports in them but no guns. I walked down the main street which is only about thirty feet wide with sidewalks about two feet wide, on each side. The street was lined on both sides by stores large and small, generally run by Moors, who were selling all sorts of silk goods and Toledo engraved jewelry. I was pulled into several stores but didn’t buy anything.
I dropped into a fruit store and bought sixpence worth of Malaga grapes and cherries. They were fine. I stayed in the store to eat them, and meanwhile conversed with the owner in Spanish. I learned from him that there is to be a bull-fight next Sunday afternoon in which two celebrated matadors, with their quadrilles will fight four bulls of Dr. Espada’s famous breed. He told me that they had a bull fight a few months ago in which one of the banderilleros, who was merely supposed to irritate the bull with a banderillo or short dart, became enraged at the bull, and taking out his pocket knife, killed the bull with it. This, of course, was entirely against the etiquette of the bull ring as the matador is supposed to kill the bull with his sword, so they took the banderillero and put him in jail for two years and made him pay for the bull besides.
I ate so much of those grapes that when I got back to the ship, I had a stiff pain in the stomach. No more Malaga grapes for me.
Gibraltar has an Oriental touch, for I saw many Moors wandering about the streets in flowing robes with turbans wound around their heads. They were husky looking chaps, about twice as large as the Spaniards whom we saw.
The cafes have learned that we have arrived for I saw several freshly printed signs, advertising the fact that “Pabst Cerveza, Made in Milwaukee, Wis., U.S.A.” was for sale there.
I saw a few Spanish girls in the streets with fat duennas following in their wake, and several others riding in carriages and working their fans. Those in the carriages looked rather sour.
Half of the shops in town seemed to be money-changing offices. The exchange on a sovereign for the day was quoted at 27 pesetas.
We got back to the dock at 6:45 PM. I started to wander down a road which led past three torpedo boats in dry docks, but a bobbie headed me off and I had to stay near the boat. We had to return to the ship at seven PM. Most of the fellows were carrying packages when they returned, and almost all had already blown their half pounds.
I saw a number of the English soldiers and sailors who garrison Gibraltar. The soldiers didn’t wear the fancy uniforms that we saw in Cork, but were dressed in khaki and helmets, while the English sailors wore straw hats. The soldiers still sported a small cane, though.
Aug. 4 I drew my half pound from the pay officer and went ashore in the first liberty boat at one o’clock. After landing, I went down Waterport Street, out of the city gate, bought a ticket on the steamer to Algeciras. The boat left at 2:20 PM and we got to Algeciras half an hour later. The first thing I saw when I landed was a little Spanish soldier with a gun which looked more like a popgun than any which I’ve encountered. His uniform was made of some sort of white cotton with vertical black stripes in it.
When I got off the pier, I walked down a beautiful ocean driveway past several very nice looking villas to the Hotel Reina Cristina. This was a long low building of only two stories but exceedingly well designed. It was built around Moorish-looking court with a tiled floor and a fountain in the middle. The gardens surrounding the hotel were carefully laid out and were filled with tropical plants. I sat down on the veranda and ordered some lemonade. They brought me a large pitcher full of it, probably thinking that I was a tank.
The town of Algeciras didn’t contain anything of historic interest. There were two or three ancient convents and churches scattered around, and an old decaying cement column.
Outside of the town was an old Roman aqueduct which was pretty well preserved.
The town of Algeciras is composed of one or two storied houses, all whitewashed. The doors of the houses generally had curtains hanging across them, but occasionally I could see into a small inner court which had plants and trees growing in it.
Half of the buildings in Algeciras are small cafes, where the ragged Spaniards sat and drank. I didn’t see anyone in the town who looked as if he had a steady job. The streets are full of small children who are nearly naked.
Right by the edge of the town is the bullring where a fight is held every two weeks. I went in and the keeper showed me around. The ring was only about a hundred yards in circumference, with rows of wooden benches rising in tiers above it. The highest seats had a roof built over them, but the others were open to the sun. At one end, was a box in which the alcalde sits. Under his box was the passage through which the bulls came. The keeper showed me six stalls with wooden doors where the bulls were kept. Nearby was a large pool of dried blood where one of the bulls had died the Sunday before. The keeper then showed me the banderillas which the fighters stick in the shoulders of the bull. These were small sticks covered with colored paper with a sharp steel barb in one end.
On going out, as I didn’t wish to tip the keeper too much, I gave him some coppers and learned the Spanish method of hinting that the tip was too small. The keeper immediately turned around and handed the coins to one of the crowd of little beggars which was hanging around. I gave him a larger tip then.
I had supper and then returned to the pier. A train had just pulled in, and out of one of the compartments stepped a sailor in the uniform of a chief petty officer. “Is the Iowa in yet?” he asked me, and when I told him it was he lighted up. He had just come from the converted gunboat Scorpion which is now lying in Trieste, from which he had been transferred to the Iowa. He was overflowing with joy at leaving the Scorpion which he said was full of bright work to shine, and especially glad to get a chance to get where he could talk English.
I got back to the ship at seven o’clock and went forward to see the stage for the smoker. The stage built on the forecastle was beautifully fitted up with wings and a drop curtain representing our fleet steaming into Gibraltar, which was painted by two sailors on board. The whole forecastle was covered with lights when the show commenced at eight. The first five acts consisted of vaudeville stunts by midshipmen and sailors, of which the best was the last one, a seagoing minstrel show with Lt. Bassett as the interlocutor. The minstrels were eight midshipmen, with large sou’wester hats, enormous beards, and what was funniest of all, their own legs were hidden and in front of each man was a pair of legs formed by the arms of a supe behind the screen, making each one of the minstrels look like a sailor with a large body and a pair of legs about a foot long. The antics of the feet kept us all laughing. The jokes of the minstrels were all personal, mostly relating to the experiences of some officer or midshipman in Berlin. Some midshipman, wisely keeping himself out of sight behind the screen, burlesqued a speech which Lt. Enochs made to us in the messhall last winter, which was great. As soon as he had finished, our goat came on the stage with the sign, “Whose goat did that get?” I think Lt. Enochs got sort of hot under the collar.
The moving picture part of the show was run by the chaplain. The first picture, though, which he threw on the screen was the picture of Lt. Commander Briggs, our exec., asleep on a hatch on the quarterdeck, which one of the midshipmen snapped a few weeks ago. I would like to know how Briggs felt when he saw that picture on the screen. They ought to present him with the original.
After the moving pictures, we had three boxing matches. The first two, between midshipmen, were lively enough, but the last one between Capper of the Indiana and Lohman of the Iowa, both sailors, was a real fight. It went for six rounds. Capper knocked Lohman off his feet in the first round, and after that had the fight pretty well cinched, but Lohman kept fighting to the end and there was heavy slugging in the match. Downes, our chief jimmy-legs, who was the lightweight champion of the fleet a few years ago, refereed the fight. He gave Capper the decision.
After the conclusion of this fight, we went below and filled up on soda, sandwiches, and cakes. The air was rather thick with smoke, for cigars and cigarettes were passed around at frequent intervals during the show.
All the officers, fifty midshipmen, and fifty bluejackets from each of the other ships were invited. A few English officers were also present. The officers occupied the reserved seats on the anchor engine house, while the rest of us sat on benches, turrets, guns, and masts. The whole ship was covered with men.
Just about the time the show ended, a heavy fog came down and shut the city and even the other ships out of view. It didn’t rain, but it might just as well have done so, for in a few minutes everybody on deck was wet.
Aug. 5 The sailors spent all the morning in cleaning up the bottles and cigar stumps from the deck, and in taking apart the stage. It was not until noon that the ship began to look descent again.
I went ashore at one o’clock, and following the universal custom, I bought one of those small canes which the English soldiers always carry. After that, I dropped into a Turkish shop and acquired a fez. Then I managed to get hold of a hack whose driver was willing to work for only a third more than the legal rate (all the other drivers thought we were easy on account of our uniforms, and wanted twice the legal rate) and rode around Gibraltar in style for a few hours.
We drove outside of the city gates to the southern end of the Rock where the barracks and a large number of the shore batteries are placed. Overlooking Rosia Bay were two obsolete guns, both muzzle loaders of about fourteen inches in the bore, and as big around as any modern gun but only about half as long. One was dismounted and the other was all rusty.
Nearby was a modern dockyard with two large drydocks. We weren’t allowed to enter it, but I could look down into it from the road. A British warship, a large four stacker, was in one of the drydocks, undergoing repairs. Her armament was not very modern for she only had one gun turret.
We turned around and started back to the town. On our way, I got a salute from a squad of British bluejackets who were marching down the road. After gong through the town again, we drove around the northern face of the Rock, which, I believe, is steeper than any other. At the corner were two little heliograph stations, projecting a few feet out from the sides of the mountain. The northern end of the Rock faces the peninsula by which Gibraltar is connected to the mainland, and for this reason it has been strongly fortified by the English. About a thousand feet up the side of the cliff which forms this end, are rows of square holes cut out of the Rock, which are made for gun-ports. The only method of reaching them is the tunnels which have been cut through the heart of the mountain and which run to these batteries. It is impossible to scale the Rock here.
The Rock here is formed of limestone and several cement factories are situated here, deriving their raw material from the base of the Rock.
Leaving this spot, we drove around to the eastern face of the Rock which faces Catalan Bay. Here in a little hollow in the base of the Rock is the village of Catalan, which was founded by the crew and passengers of a Genoese sailing vessel that was wrecked here. The eastern face is as steep as the northern one, except in one place where there is a slope of about 45º which leads to within a hundred yards of the top. To prevent the Rock from being scaled at this point, the English have put a smooth coat of cement over the slope, making it so slippery that no foothold can be obtained.
Leaving Catalan, we drove northward till clear of the Rock, and then headed for Spanish territory. We soon came to a strip of barren ground, without houses or vegetation, called the “Neutral Ground,” which separates the English territory from the Spanish. On one side of this strip are the English sentries, and on the other, the Spanish. I paid off my cabby here, for he said that he wasn’t allowed to drive into Spanish territory, and walked across the neutral ground to Spain where the city of Linea is located.
At the entrance to the town, which was a gate in a wire fence which enclosed the neutral ground, were three or four Spanish soldiers who were doing duty as custom house inspectors. Three or four donkeys with baskets on each side, passed through the gate ahead of me, and as each one passed, the soldiers stuck sharp iron rods, a few feet long, through each basket. They let me pass without inspection. I didn’t stay long in Linea. It didn’t take five minutes to discover that the town was about fifteen shades worse than Sodom or Gomorrah, so I beat it back to Gibraltar. After getting supper there, and adding some postcards to my collection, I went down to the dock and returned to the ship in the seven o’clock boat. I had just $7.50 less on me than when I disembarked on the dock at one o’clock.
Today, after three straight days of liberty, I am on duty.
Aug. 6 I didn’t have much to do yesterday. I stood the signal watch on the bridge from 4 to 6 PM, and from 8 to 12 PM.
During the morning, a North German Lloyd steamer pulled out, and as she went by us, she dipped and her band played the Star Spangled Banner.
The only other exciting occurrence of the day was a fight on the forecastle between two sailors. The jimmy-legs, who are supposed to keep order on the ship kept order – in the crowd. They made everyone keep clear so as to form a ring, and prevented any shouts from the spectators which might have brought an officer to the scene and stopped the fight. The two men went at it with bare fists. The fight was exciting while it lasted. One of the participants was decidedly unpopular for he had a reputation of starting fights and then laying down. It happened about the same way this time. At first he lit into his opponent and cut his face open with several well-directed punches, but when the other man began to get together and landed on him a few times, even though he was not nearly so badly hurt as the other sailor, he said, “All right, we’ll call it square now,” and walked away. He ought to have been called square with a club.
Gibraltar nights are certainly cool and damp. Every night it gets so damp here from the fog that a film of vapor collects on the iron fittings of the ship, and even my clothes get wet.
Aug. 8 I went ashore Sunday afternoon at one o’clock and found that almost all of Gibraltar was closed up, so after spending an hour there, I took a carriage and drove over to Linea, a Spanish town just across the neutral ground from Gibraltar. I wandered around here for a few hours. All the houses here are low, white-washed, one-story buildings and are usually rather old. One or two of the streets are paved with cobblestones, but most of them are nothing more than dusty roads. The people are all ragged, and the town has not a prosperous appearance. I was besieged by beggars everywhere, some of whom were cripples and exhibited their injuries.
This was a gala day in the town for a bull-fight with four bulls was scheduled for the afternoon. I heard that it would probably be a tame affair, but I went to see it anyway.
At four o’clock, I went to the bull-ring, which was similar to the one at Algeciras. A large crowd of kids, selling paper bags stuffed with straw to sit on, surrounded the entrance, but I pushed through and bought a ticket for a seat “de sombra.” There are two kinds of seats, “de sombra” and “de sol,” in the shade and in the sun.
I got in and climbed up the seats to a row of stone seats situated near the top, close by the band and the alcalde’s box. It was about an hour before the fight was to start, but a fair-sized crowd had already gathered, and there was a continual roar on the inside of the ring from the vendors of grapes, cakes, wine, beer, and paper cushions.
The audience was mixed. On the side of the ring which contained the seats “de sombra” sat a large number of midshipmen, American sailors, and English sailors, together with a number of the well-to-do Spaniards. On the other side of the ring were the kids, and the poorer Spaniards. A company of Spanish soldiers with their rifles was placed in the seats near the ring.
At five o’clock the bull fight commenced. The matadors and banderilleros marched out of a gate opposite us and came across the ring toward the alcalde. The two matadors dressed in the traditional costume, led the way with a little boy, also dressed as a toreador, between them. Behind them came the banderilleros, dressed in the same manner, and the rear of the procession was closed by three mules decked out with gay trappings. On reaching the alcalde, the procession stopped, the toreadors bowed, the mayor threw down the key to the bull ring, and then the mules were driven out and the banderilleros scattered themselves around the circumference of the ring.
The band gave three ruffles, the door of the bull enclosure opened, and the first bull came forth. He stopped a moment, and then seeing a toreador waving a purple cape at him, put down his head and charged. The banderillero dodged and the bull slid by him. After chasing several others and missing each time, he began to paw up the earth and blow the dust through his nostrils. The banderilleros soon had him busy again, and there was plenty of excitement as the bull chased them around, but they were good dodgers and the bull’s horns would scrape by them every time.
The band gave a flourish at the direction of the alcalde, and the toreadors left the ring, each returning a moment later with a pair of banderillas, - iron darts fastened in sticks which are covered with colored paper. The first one got the bull’s attention by facing the bull and holding his banderillas above his head. The bull charged, and as he went by, the banderillero stepped aside and drove his darts into the bull’s shoulders. Then the bull got mad, and plunged bellowing around the ring trying to shake out the darts, but in vain. The other banderilleros took their turns, and soon there were about ten banderillas sticking in him. And now the band gave another flourish and the matador entered. He was dressed in a red suit, trimmed with black, and carried a red cape in one hand and a long narrow sword in the other.
Going up to the bull, he held out the cape with his sword beneath it, and as the bull charged, he stepped a little to one side and then flashed his cape in the bull’s eyes. He kept playing with the bull in this manner until he got him into the middle of the ring, and then prepared to kill him. He held the sword on a level with his eyes and extended it forward, aiming along it at a spot in the bull’s back. Then he waved his red cape, and as the bull started to charge, he drove the sword home almost to the hilt in the bull’s back. The bull staggered and then ran to the edge of the ring where he staggered and fell. He did not die immediately, however, so one of the attendants ran out and plunged a dagger into his brain. Then, amid the applause of the crowd, the three mules were brought forward and dragged the bull out at a gallop. The bull did not bleed at all.
The second bull then came out and the performance was repeated. A different matador came out to finish this one, but he bungled the job and in four attempts, only succeeded in plunging his sword in about a foot. The bull kept running around bellowing, and the spectators began to protest, so he tried again and this time managed to kill him. As soon as the bull dropped, some attendants ran down, pulled the banderillas from the bull’s shoulders, and went up to the spectators to sell them. I bought one for a shilling.
Bull number three was lively and the banderilleros had to keep on the move. Two had to jump over the barrier in order to escape. The first matador killed him on the first attempt.
The fourth and last bull was the best. He came into the ring on the run and started things immediately. One of the banderilleros didn’t step out of the way quickly enough and the bull’s sharp horns ripped his jacket up the back. Then two banderilleros took a cape, each holding one end and when the bull charged, they let him pass between them. They did this several times, but the last time, one of them misjudged his distance, the bull got his horns under him and sent him sailing over his head. The banderillero landed on his feet, and walked away, apparently unhurt. After they had stuck about a dozen banderillas into the bull, the matador who had made so many errors on the second bull, came out again to redeem himself. He did it. He aimed his sword at the bull, and when the bull charged, he plunged his sword into the very center of the bull’s back, driving it in clear to the hilt. He was too slow in dodging though, for the bull knocked him down and stepped on him as he rushed by. The matador was unhurt and rose to receive the tumultuous applause of the crowd for his good stroke. The bull staggered and went down in a few seconds.
I was rather glad that I had seen the bullfight for it was interesting and it was exciting. The toreadors exhibited great skill, and the bulls showed a large amount of fight. On the whole, however, I don’t think that I would care to see any more bull fights.
As soon as the last bull was finished, I left the arena and went back to Gibraltar in a carriage. On the way, I saw another carriage taking the matadors to a hotel, while a crowd of little kids was hanging on behind or chasing along by the side of the carriage.
I got into Gibraltar about six-thirty, bought a few postcards and got some ice cream. In Gibraltar they have the secret of making ice cream without using cream, as corn starch seems to them to be better (also cheaper). I arrived at the dock at seven PM and found the boat waiting.
Yesterday we coaled ship. Instead of using the collier, we coaled from lighters, small boats similar to canal boats, which were brought alongside. As we didn’t have to get forty feet down into a coal bunker to get the coal, it was much pleasanter for the wind immediately blew the dust away. One lighter nevertheless, had such dusty coal that before we finished her, I could scarcely keep my eyes open. We finished coaling at about four o’clock. I hiked for the wash room and by five o’clock was all clean, except for two rings of black around my eyes. I couldn’t get these washed away until today. I was in hopes that we would be allowed to go swimming after coaling but we weren’t. Saturday afternoon, a large part of the fellows went swimming from the ship’s side, but I happened to be on duty on the bridge at that time, so I couldn’t go in.
The rest of the evening I spent in lounging on the dock and in writing a few postals which were to leave the ship by the last mail this morning.
We were turned out at five o’clock this morning, had breakfast at six, and prepared to unmoor ship. At about eight o’clock the word was passed, “All hands unmoor ship,” and we immediately began to cast off the lines to the dock. The bumboatmen who had been aboard for the last week jumped onto the dock, and we sheered off and went out backwards. As soon as we cleared the end of the dock, we started ahead and went out of the harbor, past several British mail steamers which were lying in quarantine. A few minutes later, the Massachusetts and the Iowa cast off and flowed us out.
Scarcely had we cleared the dock and headed down the bay when the word was passed “All hands scrub clothes!” and in less than five minutes I was down on my knees on the forecastle, scrubbing clothes, and mighty glad of the chance for it was about two weeks since I had a chance to do it. And thus, to the merry scrape of the ki-yis, we passed out of Gibraltar.
I had a much better time there than I had anticipated, but it was with no feelings of regret that I saw the Rock sinking below the horizon as we went westward. It was not until about three o’clock that we finally lost sight of Spain and Africa and stood out in the open sea.
Our traveling formation has been altered. We now lead the column instead of being the end ship, while the Iowa has our old position. Our fleet is also larger by one ship, for the collier Vulcan which coaled us at Queenstown and Bergen, and the Iowa at Gibraltar, is following along in the wake of the Iowa. I think that she will go home with us.
The ship’s collection of pets is larger by a monkey and two canary birds than it was when we hit Gibraltar. We now have five dogs, Rags, Mutt, two unnamed dogs from Ireland, and Kiel, who hails from Germany; one goat named Bill; two white rats; one cat; one monkey; and two canary birds.
Aug. 10 We had smooth weather the first day out, but yesterday the weather was bad and the ships pitched a great deal. I was seasick for about half an hour, but after that I was all right. The weather is the same today and a number of fellows are still seasick.
Yesterday the German steamer Haake passed astern of us, evidently headed for South America. Today we passed a bark which was headed in the same direction.
The clothes which we scrubbed the first day out from Gibraltar were stopped on the forecastle line to dry, as usual, but on account of the waves and the spray which were continually breaking over our bow, the clothes didn’t get dry until this afternoon. When the order to pipe down was given, we went to get our clothes and found them a beautiful white in color. They were crusted with salt which could be easily tasted, and which made them about as stiff as a board.
From our new position, we can see the bows of the other ships, instead of their sterns. As the Massachusetts plows along, she buries her nose so deep in the waves that only her turrets are visible, and then as she comes up, the water pours down her sides in a foaming cataract. The Iowa has a higher forecastle, so she doesn’t get so wet. The Vulcan runs along smoothly, but once in a while she begins to roll a lot worse than we do.
We are having rather easy drills this week. All we have to do is learn the rules of the road and the lights which vessels carry in various circumstances.
Aug. 11 The chaplain gave another moving picture show on the port side of the quarterdeck last night. The films were all good and were much applauded. Music for the occasion was furnished by four mandolins and a guitar. The mandolins did good work but the guitar sounded as if it only had one string. The weather conditions were ideal and everyone was much pleased with the whole performance. I watched the show from the top of one of the eight-inch turrets, with a jimmy-legs behind me, constantly reminding me to keep clear of the edge.
I had all night in and only woke up twice, at twelve and at four, when they called the watches, so I turned out much refreshed at six and went on watch on the bridge at eight AM. We were to have a signal competition with the Massachusetts, and as the first classman in charge was very anxious to win, he rigged up a lot of special blocks and put three shifts of us on the ropes, with the result that we succeeded in winning two hoists out of sixteen, which was worse than we had ever done before with the regular signal apparatus and one shift.
I was only supposed to stand a four hour watch from eight to twelve AM, but as they set the clock back half an hour during my watch, I had to stand that also. Going to Europe we used to set the clock ahead, but we make up for it now by setting the clock back.
We aired our hammocks this morning. Instead of lashing them up and stowing them in the hammock nettings, we took them up on the skid deck and left them open to the sun for several hours.
Briggs passed the word out this afternoon that all midshipmen should scrub clothes, so I chased by bucket and ki-yi out on the forecastle and scrubbed two suits of works. I now have ten clean suits so I don’t intend to scrub any more clothes on this cruise.
The sea is calmer today than I have ever seen it before. The ship pitches slightly for there are always swells in the Atlantic, but today there are no waves at all, only little ripples that cover the swells. The water itself is a deep blue and looks so beautiful that it would almost be a pleasure to fall overboard. I understand that such a course is not advisable, however, for a second-classman fell over-board last year as the fleet was steaming into Marseilles, and this made the skipper so mad that he put the second-classman on the pap for fifty demerits for gross carelessness.
The same chart that was used to plot our daily position in crossing the Atlantic the first time is again being used to plot our course on the way home. At our present speed, we will pass southward of the Azores tonight or tomorrow morning.
We are traveling over the same course that Christopher Colon used in discovering America. He certainly had nerve to try it in three small ships when it’s a long journey even for us.
Aug. 12 The chaplain gave another moving picture show on the quarterdeck last night, but I had the ill luck to be on duty from eight to twelve PM so I didn’t see it. I had a good time on the bridge anyway, talking with the other fellows there about our experiences afloat and ashore. The night was very dark until ten o’clock when the moon rose, so our laughter at certain personal stories went unreprimanded for the officer of the deck couldn’t see who it was that laughed.
This morning at quarters, we had a captain’s inspection. While we were lined up on the starboard side of the forecastle waiting for the skipper to get around to us, we were kept in a continual roar, in which Lt. Bassett took part, by the antics of the monkey who was moored in front of our division. Rags, one of our Irish terriers, came up and tried to bluff the monk, but the monkey was right there and instead of looking scared, he opened his mouth as if he were going to take a piece out of Rags’ hide and then hit him about three punches with his fist. Rags beat it. The monkey then looked around for new fields to conquer and spotted Bassett’s muster-book. He grabbed it and after turning over a few leaves, ate one up. This was too much so Bassett had him removed.
Nothing more happened until the afternoon. The sea is so smooth that there aren’t even any ripples on the swells. Nevertheless, the ship pitches so much that occasionally one of the swells washes over the forecastle. This smoothness of the sea makes it possible for us to see the whole surface of the sea for miles around.
About three o’clock we saw small clouds of spray on the water a few miles ahead of us. A few minutes later, I saw a whale stick his forked tail out of the water and wave it as he went down. As we got closer, we could see that there were about six or seven young whales swimming through the water ahead of us, and blowing every few seconds. Most of them left in a hurry when we got within a few hundred yards, but there was one who lay asleep on the surface of the water and didn’t seem conscious of our approach. I went for my camera and took a position on the starboard bow where I could thrust it clear of the rail and the other fellows there. The whale lay directly in our path with the greater part of his back and head sticking out of the water. He was about twenty feet long. When we got within about a hundred feet of him, I snapped him and a second later he woke up to what was happening and went down with a flourish of his tail. He was the last whale we saw.
Aug. 13 Last night the chaplain showed us some slides of the Jeffries-Johnson fight. After the slide which showed Jeffries knocked down in the last round, the chaplain said, “Jeffries is not the only man who was ever put to sleep,” and then he threw that picture of Briggs, our exec, asleep on the after hatch, on the screen. Everybody laughed but Briggs.
I was on the lookout in the crow’s nest yesterday afternoon, for the second time this cruise. I got a fine view of the Massachusetts, the Iowa, and the Vulcan plowing along behind us, while all around I could look out over the smooth ocean. I witnessed the sunset from my position and saw the sun go down between two clouds which it lit up like a furnace. I also stood the lifebuoy watch from two to four AM on the starboard gallery.
The sea during the last few days has been unusually smooth. There has not been any wind strong enough to cause waves, but the motion of the ship through the air has always made it seem that there was a sufficient breeze blowing to keep us cool. The swells, however, make the ship pitch more than I have seen her do in what appeared to be fairly heavy storms.
Aug. 14 Yesterday afternoon the swells grew so large that we pitched wildly. The Massachusetts did the same, and her bow rose so high out of the water that we could see her ram and look along her keel. She almost stood on her stern several times. One of the swells came over our bow in a solid wall of water, wet everybody on the forecastle, washed the top of the thirteen-inch turret, and lifted a heavy steel hatch cover so high that its supports pulled out of their sockets and the hatch came down, nearly smashing some fellows who had been sitting under it. After that, the officer of the deck made everyone keep off the forecastle. The swells kept up all the afternoon but in the evening their place was taken by choppy waves that a rising wind caused.
I was on the lookout in the crow’s nest from four to six AM this morning. It was rather windy with a slight rain. Southwest of me was a fog bank. I took a look around the horizon and then looked at the east where the edge of the sun was just coming up over the water, with a thin veil of mist in front of it that left its outlines clear enough but removed all the sun’s brightness. The next moment I heard a voice from the speaking tube leading down to the bridge say “Lookout there!” I answered, “Hello.” “Do you see that ship over there on the port bow?” I looked, and where a moment before there had been nothing but a fogbank, a full rigged ship was now in full view, just clear of the fog. The man on the bridge said, “Well, get on the job!” which was my reprimand for not having reported the ship before it was seen on the bridge. It wasn’t altogether my fault, of course, for the ship appeared so suddenly.
The ship was about a mile away from us, going north, and we were headed right for her, so in a few minutes we approached rather close to her. We gave two toots on the steam whistle to indicate that we were changing our course to port so as to pass astern of her, for a steamship must keep clear of a sailing vessel. The sailing ship passed about one hundred yards ahead of us, and as she did so, she broke out a Norwegian flag and dipped it to us. A peculiar thing about this ship was the fact that she had the exact appearance of a frigate of about the period of 1812. I believe that she probably was once a man of war, for along her sides were two bands of white paint in which at intervals of about ten feet, were gun ports painted black. The guns, of course, were gone. She had all sail set upon her three masts, even up to the star-gazers, and as she went by, presented a fine appearance, giving us the closest view of a sailing ship under sail that we have obtained on this cruise.
The Norwegians have a reputation of taking wooded ships about a hundred years old, and going out to sea with them, so this ship was probably a converted wooden warship.
I laid down from aloft at six AM and on the way down the mast, I passed the new lookout going up. He knew what had happened to me. Scarcely had he been on the lookout for five minutes, when exactly the same thing happened to him that had happened to me. A ship burst out of a fogbank on the starboard bow and the men on the bridge saw it while the lookout didn’t report it at all. The officer of the deck called his attention to the new ship, through the speaking tube, at the same time getting sarcastic. “You are up there as a lookout!” he shouted up the tube to my successor when the latter failed to report the ship a whole minute after we saw it from the deck.
Aug. 16 Last night I stood watch on the bridge from eight to ten PM, but I had to stay on the bridge deck until twelve, so after being relieved at ten, I went to sleep on the deck with my jersey for a pillow. About eleven thirty, it suddenly started to rain, and I had to get up in a hurry for in a few seconds, streams of water were running across the deck. The man next to me woke up to find himself lying in a pool of water.
A large number of midshipmen thought that the gun deck was too warm, so they swung their hammocks up on deck last night. It took only a few minutes for the heavy rain to fill those hammocks up with water and soon dripping midshipmen in soaked pajamas were tumbling out of them and chasing around the decks looking for a dry spot to stand. They finally had to take their wet hammocks and blankets below and sleep on the deck.
The commissary is making a grand finish. We had to throw overboard all the fresh meat that we got in Gibraltar because it was no good, but we have a large supply of canned Willie, canned salmon, and a bunch of other canned stuff which we like a lot better, and the baker turns out some pies or cakes every few days which are swell. Our baker makes some of the finest pies that I’ve ever tasted.
There is a rumor floating around the ship that we disembark the 26th of August instead of the 29th. All sorts of rumors have floated around since we started on the cruise, most of which only turned out to be rumors, but I hope that this one is true.
I was sleeping on the port side of the forecastle this afternoon alongside of a marine, when I heard a roar as a wave struck the side of the ship, and then, even before I was awake, I was on my feet and hiking for the door in the bulkhead. Just as I got to it the wave struck me, knocked me through the door, and soaked me clear through from head to foot. That woke me up, and I found myself standing with my shoes oozing water in a compartment half full of the ocean. The marine got through the door ahead of me so he was only wet to the waist.
Aug. 18 Night before last the fleet had a searchlight drill at about eight o’clock. Each ship had her six searchlights lit, and for a while eighteen streaks of lights were playing at random over the water. Sometimes a beam would be invisible because it was playing in clear air, and sometimes, after showing a clear light in the sky for several hundred yards, a beam would break off abruptly because the clouds which reflected the light ended there. After about ten minutes of this, the lights were worked in concert as they would be in wartime to guard against a torpedo-boat attack. The lights on each side of the ship swept the water on that side, each light covering a certain arc close to the ship at first. Gradually the lights were elevated and the water from the ship to the horizon was carefully covered so that any torpedo-boat in sight would be detected. The nine searchlights on each side of the fleet slowly moving forward together, and then suddenly moving back, only to come forward again a little farther out from the column, looked like the teeth of a rake going over the grass.
Yesterday morning the fleet did some maneuvering. Right after breakfast we changed our course to starboard and increased the speed half a knot. The Massachusetts went by us headed to port and the Iowa came up in the middle. In half an hour the Massachusetts was about six miles away on our port beam and the Iowa was about three miles away in the same direction. The collier followed about a mile behind the Iowa. We covered quite a bit of the ocean in that formation. We couldn’t see the hull of the Massachusetts at all, and the Iowa wasn’t any too clearly defined. The officers cast loose the range-finders in the fighting tops and on the skeleton mast, and we were soon theoretically blowing the other ships out of the water.
We changed the formation to a triangular one in a few minutes, with the collier in the middle and the Iowa at the vertex of the triangle. After running that way for a few hours, the ships closed up again, and we were traveling in our old formation, with the Iowa leading, the Massachusetts next, and we last. The collier is following in our rear. I think that we will finish our cruise in this order.
Yesterday afternoon, I discovered a way to get some fine hot toast. The blacksmith had left his portable forge with a heap of red coals still glowing in it and a pair of pincers lying across the coals. A second classman and I swiped about six slices of bread from the baker and toasted them on the pincers, blowing up the fire occasionally with the bellows. The scheme worked finely, and the bread came out of the forge as the finest toast that I’ve tasted for a long while. It also happened that there was a butter dish left from dinner, nearby, and we smeared the butter on liberally. It melted as soon as it touched the hot toast, giving us some fine, hot, buttered toast which almost melted in our mouths.
I had to go up to the crow’s nest as the lookout yesterday afternoon. When I got up to the second fighting top, I found the floor of it almost covered with beans which some seasick lookout had shot out of the crow’s nest. He must have been a very good marksman to hit the fighting top from the crow’s nest.
Each day our position on the chart in the bulletin board gets closer to dear old Chesapeake Bay. At our present speed, we ought to strike Cape Henry some time Monday night. I would like to be the lookout when we sight the lighthouse that we lost below the horizon one night three months ago. There will certainly be some excitement when the lookout sings out, “Light, ho!”
Two days ago a fellow in the crow’s nest felt morally certain that he would get seasick if he had to stay up there a minute more than necessary, so when he was relieved he was in such a hurry to get down that instead of climbing down the rope ladder, he slid down the mast. The skipper saw him do it and took the lookout down into his cabin to reprimand him. “I ought to put you on the report for ‘foolhardy descent from the lookout’ but I won’t do it,” he said. “You might have fallen overboard and been drowned. Of course I don’t mind that, but the Navy Regulations require me to stop the ship and make an attempt to save you, and if I did that, there might be some danger of a collision with the ships behind us. So never come down that way again.”
Aug. 20 I was up in the lookout yesterday from two to four PM during a rather hard storm. The rain came down in torrents but I didn’t get wet as I had on a suit of oilskins. The pitching of the ship was especially noticeable up in the lookout station, and it made me seasick for a while.
We had a lecture by the carpenter yesterday on the ship’s steering gear and on the ship in general. He told us that holystoning the decks is a bad practice for it wears the decks out rapidly. Sailors all agree that holystoning decks ought to be discontinued. A few months ago some of the sailors on the Indiana decided to put an end to holystoning the decks so some of them got up at midnight and threw all the holystones overboard. The next morning the boatswain got even with them, however, for he brought up a bunch of sandpaper from the hold and made the crew get down on their knees and sandpaper the forecastle.
Aug. 21 We had only 167 miles left to do this noon. We will certainly get into the bay some time tonight.
We ran along until three PM headed for home, and then we started to go in circles. The Massachusetts started to circle to the left and we started to circle to the right at half speed. The Iowa and the Vulcan followed us. Before long, we were headed east instead of west, and the Massachusetts was so far away that we could barely see her. This maneuver is called “Swinging ship” and is for the purpose of determining the errors of the ship’s compass. None of us are very enthusiastic about it for it has taken us off our course and will make us arrive several hours later than we expected.
I was in the lookout during the process of swinging ship and stayed there a half hour longer than I was supposed to, for the midshipman in charge of our division forgot to send anyone to relieve me.