A Womans Impression of the Philippines | Page 2

uniform of a major, U.S.A., was occupying
this apartment, together with a roly-poly clerk in a blue uniform which
seemed to be something between naval and military. When I mentioned
my name and showed my order for transportation, the senior officer
grunted inarticulately, and waved me in the direction of his clerk,
glaring at me meanwhile with an expression which combined
singularly the dissimilar effects of a gimlet and a plane. The rotund
junior contented himself with glancing suspiciously at the order and
sternly at me. As if reassured, however, by my plausible countenance,
he flipped over the pages of a ledger, told me the number of my
stateroom, and hunted up a packet of letters, which he delivered with an
acid reproof to me for not having reported before, saying that the letters
had been accumulating for ten days.
It is true that the Buford had been scheduled to sail on the first day of
the month; but I had arrived a day or two before that date, only to learn
that the sailing date had been postponed to the tenth. I had made many
weary trips to the army headquarters in Montgomery Street, asking for
mail--and labels--with no results. Nobody had suggested that the mail
would be delivered aboard ship, and I had not had sense enough to
guess it. I did not make any explanations to the quartermaster and his
clerk, however, because an intuition warned me not to add tangible
evidence to a general belief in civilian stupidity. I merely swallowed
my snubbing meekly and walked off.
I ambled about, clinging to the dressing-bag and looking for some one
resembling a steward. At the foot of the ladder leading to the bridge I
encountered two young girls descending therefrom with evidences of
embarrassed mirth. They were Radcliffe girls, whose evil genius had
led them to the bridge and to an indignant request to explain their
presence there. They explained to no purpose, and, in response to a
plaintive inquiry where to go, were severely told, "We don't know, but
go down from here immediately." So they came down, crimson but
giggling, and saw me (they said) roaming about with an expression at
once wistful and complacent.

I found a steward and my stateroom at last, and a brown-haired,
brown-eyed young woman in it who was also a pedagogue. We
introduced ourselves, disposed of our parcels, and began to discuss the
possibilities of the voyage. She was optimistically certain that she was
not going to be seasick. I was pessimistically certain that I was. And
she was wrong, and I was right. We were both gloriously,
enthusiastically, madly seasick.
When we returned to the deck, it was crowded with passengers, the
mail was coming aboard, and all sorts of bugle-calls were sounding, for
we were carrying "casuals." It was a matter of wonder that so many
persons should have gathered to bid adieu to a passenger list recruited
from all parts of the Union. The dock was black with people, and our
deck was densely crowded. Khaki-clad soldiers leaned over the side to
shout to more khaki on the dock. An aged, poorly dressed woman was
crying bitterly, with her arms about the neck of a handsome boy, one of
our cabin passengers; and all about, the signs of intense feeling showed
that the voyage marked no light interval of separation.
I stood at the forward rail of the promenade deck, and fell into
conversation with a gentleman whom I had met in San Francisco and
who was a fellow passenger. We agreed in being glad that none of our
relatives were there to see us off; but, though we made much ado to
seem matter-of-fact and quite strong-minded about expatriating
ourselves, I noticed that he cleared his throat a great deal, and my chin
annoyed me by a desire to tremble.
The gongs warned visitors ashore, and, just as all the whistles of San
Francisco were blowing the noon hour, we backed away from the dock,
and turned our head to sea. As the little line of green water between
ship and dock widened to a streamlet and then to a river, the first qualm
concerning the wisdom of the expedition struck its chilly way to my
heart. Probably most of the passengers were experiencing the same
doubts; and the captain suspected the fact, for he gave us fire drill just
to distract our attention and to settle our nerves.
The luncheon gong sounded immediately after his efficacious diversion,
and the military people who were to eat in the first section--the

_Buford's_ dining-room was small--went down to lunch. The junior
lieutenants, and the civil engineers and schoolteachers, who made up
her civilian list, took their last look at San Francisco. We swung past
Alcatraz Island and heard the