A Womans Impression of the Philippines | Page 4

forward deck. Somebody was playing
"The Holy City." Steps went by. A voice with an English accent said,
"By Jove, you can't get away from that tune," and, in one of those
instants of stillness which fall in the midst of confusion, I heard a
gurgling moan.
I snapped on the light and turned--at what cost only the seasick can
appreciate--to behold Miss R---- sitting on the floor with her back to
the wall. She was still shrouded in her golf cape and hood, and
contemplated her boots--which were on her feet, sticking straight out
before her--as if they were a source of mental as well as bodily
inconvenience. At intervals she rolled her head and gave utterance to
that shuddering moan.
Wretched as I was, I could not help gasping, "Are you enjoying your
sea trip?" and she replied sepulchraily, "It isn't what it's cracked up to
be." We could say no more. That time we groaned in unison.
She must have gathered strength of mind and body in the night,
however, for she was in her berth next morning when the stewardess
came in to know what we wanted for breakfast. We did not want
anything, as we quickly made reply. The wind went down that day; the
next day was warm and clear, with a sea like sapphire, and we dragged
ourselves to the deck. Recovery set in quickly enough then, so that we
began to "think scornful" of seasickness. Fortunately the good ship
Buford ploughed her way across the Pacific without meeting another
swell, and our pride was not humbled again. We ate quite sparingly for
a meal or two, and had fits of abstraction, gazing at the ceiling when
extra-odorous dishes were placed in front of us. The Radcliffe girls said
that they had passed a strenuous night, engaged in wild manoeuvres to
obtain possession of the monkey wrench and feloniously to secrete the
same. Their collegiate training had included instruction on the hygienic
virtues of fresh air, which made no allowance for a sea trip; and their

views as to the practical application of these principles came sadly into
conflict with the ideas of their bedroom steward. There were frantic
searchings for a monkey wrench all that night, while the article lay
snugly bestowed between the mattresses of a maiden who looked as if
she might be thinking of the angels. Also their porthole was open in
defiance of orders, and much water came into their stateroom. But they
did not care, for it brought fresh air with it.
The first two or three days of the voyage were spent in taking stock of
our fellow passengers and in finding our friends. We were about
seventy-five cabin passengers in all,--a small family, it is true. The ship
was coaled through to Manila, the first stop being Guam. So we made
acquaintance here and there, settling ourselves for no paltry five or six
days' run, but for a whole month at sea. We all came on deck and took
our fourteen laps--or less--around the promenade deck before breakfast.
The first two or three nights, with a sort of congregational impulse, we
drifted forward under the promenade awnings, and sang to the
accompaniment of the cornetist on the troop deck. The soldiers sang
too, and many an American negro melody, together with "On the Road
to Mandalay" and other modern favorites, floated melodiously into the
starlit silence of the Pacific. Our huge windsail flapped or bellied as the
breeze fell or rose; the waves thumped familiarly against the sides; the
masthead lantern burned clear as a star; and the real stars swung up and
down as the bowsprit curtsied to each wave. In the intervals between
songs a hush would fall upon us, and the sea noises were like effects in
a theatre.
In a few days, however, our shyness and strangeness wore off. We no
longer sang with the soldiers, but segregated ourselves into congenial
groups; and under the electric lights the promenade deck looked, for all
the world, like the piazza of a summer hotel.

CHAPTER II
From San Francisco to Honolulu

We Change Our Course and Arrive at Honolulu--The City Viewed
from the Sea--Its Mixed Population--We Are Detained Ten Days For
Engine Repairs.
When we were a week out from San Francisco and were eight hundred
or a thousand miles north of the Hawaiian Islands, the Buford stopped
one evening just at sunset, and for at least twenty minutes slopped
about in the gentle swell. There is a curious sense of dulness when the
engines cease droning and throbbing; and the passengers, who had just
come up from dinner, were affected by the unusual silence. We hung
over the rail, talking in subdued tones and noting the beauty of the
sunset.
Behind us the