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Jamaica, and the Bahamas — Bermudas — ^Azores — Preparing for Submarines — Southampton once more,

Jamaica was discovered by Columbus, and belonged to Spain till 1655, when it was captured by an expedition sent out by Oliver Cromwell.

The Island, from its proximity to the Spanish Possessions, was a godsend to the Buccaneers. Port Royal, which, as its name shows, was founded after the Restoration, was full of riches, often ill-gotten: "always like a Continental mart or fair." In 1692 it was overwhelmed by an earthquake, and again laid low by fire in 1703.

Kingston, originally begun as a settlement of refugees from Port Royal after the earthquake, gradually grew in importance, and finally became the capital of the island.

During the wars which followed the French Revolution, Jamaica was of importance as the great centre of British interests in the Western Caribbean.


We now headed for Jamaica; Kingston, its capital, lies towards the eastern extremity of its southern coast. The town is placed on fiat land which gradually rises into dwarf hills. It is built parallel to, and abutting on to its water-front. Right and left of the city, when viewed from the sea, extends low country, whilst behind it, and to the east, rises in the distance a lofty range of mountains. From the open sea, the town and flat country is divided by a natural breakwater that maintains the general trend of the coast. By this breakwater is formed a lagoon that runs East and West, parallel to the coast, for a distance of some six miles, with an average breadth of about one mile, and has practically no arms or branches. This lagoon is the harbour of Kingston and a fine one, but it lacks the element of picturesqueness, nor is it a comfortable one for small craft. The strong easterly wind, known as "The Undertaker," that daily arises and increases in strength with the sun, sweeps down its length and knocks up a nasty sea. It is difficult to obtain shelter, even for a dinghy, when landing at Kingston.

But we are anticipating. We ran down the coast, close in, and at 9.30 a.m., Friday, April the 7th, 1916, we reached the western end of the natural breakwater between which and the mainland is the passage into the lagoon. Here the Port Doctor came on board, and as he went through our bills of health we mutually discovered that we were old hospital friends, though we had never heard of each other for twenty years.

We entered the harbour, and brought up in 15 fms., abreast of the wharf of the old naval dockyard of Port Royal, and distant from it about a cable's length. Port Royal is situated on the inner aspect of the bulbous-headed western extremity of the natural breakwater. The land surface is very limited in extent and is entirely taken up with the old fort, the old dockyard, and old naval and military quarters. All but a few poor closely packed houses is in the occupation of Government. The width of the breakwater to the eastward soon becomes small; open beach on seaward side, mangroves extending into the lagoon on the other; and between the two sand and scrub. This part is the well-known Palisadoes, the home of land-crabs and dead men, and the scene of many a duel. Port Royal is now deserted; no shipping or living workshops; everything is hushed, but the place is not neglected. Nelson might have left it but yesterday; the dockyard, with its fittings, stores, and quays, reminded one of that other quaint little marine gem, the old naval dockyard of English Harbour in the island of Antigua. When the place hummed with life, The Young Sea Officer's Sheet Anchor, by Falconer, was the text book to work by, and its social life is vividly and accurately given us by Marryat in one of his novels.

As in the dusk, all alone, we passed down the silent corridors, and approached the old mess-room, we somehow listened for, and expected at any moment to hear, through some opening door, the reckless toast of "A bloody war, and a sickly season," the chink of glasses, and the crash of the chorus "Yellow Jack! Yellow Jack!” And Jack, thus bidden, used to come, and link his arm in that of some fine young fellow, and together the two would saunter away "to the home of a friend of his in the Palisadoes." Little time for packing up allowed! Many and many a man, in the prime of life and feeling quite well, has dined at mess one night in snowy uniform: the next night in a white uniform of a different cut as the guest of Jack and Death. These two kept open house in those days.

The R.E. Officer in charge was most kind and hospitable; he took us over the old fort, pointing out, amongst much else. Nelson's former quarters and the adjoining length of parapet overlooking the harbour entrance, now known as Nelson's Walk. Our host informed us that, fishing from the wharves, he got splendid sport.

From Port Royal to Kingston is about four miles by the boat channel. Passes through the coral banks have been blasted where requisite and the channel beaconed. A least depth of 4½  ft. is thus obtained, and a direct course. Our little motor lifeboat carried us backwards and forwards most excellently on various voyages made to attend to our business at Kingston. The way in which she bucked at speed over the short steep seas reminded one of larking over hurdles on a pony.

The work in hand was to get our clearance inwards, to get rid of our food-destroyer from Panama, and to find in his place a live ship's cook, to report particulars of the Morant's Cays upheaval, and finally the usual catering, and bill of health, and clearance outwards. The Chief of the Customs was good enough to interest himself in Mana's welfare, so that all these matters were dealt with in due sequence, and with the least possible trouble to us. A coloured cook was procured from an hotel at £16 a month, with, as it proved, but little justification on the ground of ability for drawing such a rate of pay; still, his professional enormities were associated with so many humorous incidents, and as he appeared at least to mean well, we resigned ourselves to the inevitable, and prayed that we might survive his ministrations.

About noon on Sunday, April 9, 1916, we weighed and motored out from Port Royal, unplagued by pilots, and dipping our ensign to the Port Doctor and his wife, in acknowledgment of adieux waved from their garden. Clear of everything, the engines were stopped and Mana, bound to "the stormy Bermuthies," proceeded to argue the point with a head wind as to whether she should, or should not, go to windward. By steady hammering she gradually got under the western end of the Island of San Domingo, and then through the celebrated Windward Passage. We had now to threadle our way betwixt the numerous islets that constitute the Bahama group, and it was quite delightful and interesting; brilliant sunshine, cool moderate breezes, land every few hours, but reliable charts. This was yachting; we had met a good deal of what bore little semblance to it, so we appreciated our present luck all the more.

The morning of the 19th of April 1916 saw us beating up under the lee of Acklin Island and of Crooked Island; a fresh N.E. breeze swept in puffs across the long, narrow, fiat land. An open native boat, with jib-headed mainsail as usual, was seen heading across our course when we were close in, so we gave her a wave, and, as we came into the wind, she rounded-to under our stern, dousing her sail, unshipping her mast and shooting up alongside our quarter. We dropped into her; a couple of empty sacks were pitched in, and she was clear of the ship before she had lost her way. The mast is stepped, the sail hoisted, and she is off again with her gunnel steadily kept awash. We now for the first time spoke. The two coloured men, her crew, were most obliging; they would make for the most convenient landing and then they would accompany us catering.

Everything went off excellently; we made a tour to different cottages and gardens, collecting whatever was available, particularly grape-fruit, oranges, and tamarinds. We also got exceptionally fine specimens of the shell of the King conch and of the Queen conch. Hundreds of the King conch were piled up at one spot on the shore ready to be burnt into lime.

The natives appeared to be pure-blooded negroes of westcoast type, and in some respects their culture remains unchanged. For instance, the pestle and mortar and winnowing tray for treating maize were exactly similar in pattern to those we had seen used by the Akikuyu of Eastern Central Africa.

When catering, the price of each article is settled by negotiation, and it is definitely bought, as it is met with from time to time in our perambulation, on condition that it shall be paid for as it is passed into the boat on departure — cash on delivery. Much other stuff, though unbought, is also brought down to the boat in the hope of sale at the last moment. This too is generally taken as well, because going cheaply, and also to avoid causing disappointment.

Everybody having been paid, and the already laden boat now pretty well cluttered-up with an unexpected additional cargo of chickens, eggs, fruit, shells, and sundry ethnological acquisitions, up goes the shoulder-of-mutton, the helmsman ships his twiddling-stick, and, in a few moments, the water is purring beneath our lee gunnel as the little craft slithers through the closely set wavelets of land-sheltered water. Long, narrow, and ballasted, these boats are very fast and are given the last ounce of wind pressure they can stand up to. It seemed to us, however, that her crew wished to show what they could do with her as, halliard and sheet in hand, they lifted the lee gunnel from moment to moment, just sufficiently to prevent her filling, but they did so with an easy nonchalance that told that they were finished boat sailors.

A very few minutes saw us "once more aboard the lugger." We had left Mana at noon, and eight bells were striking as the staysail-sheet-tackle scraped to leu'ard along the hairless belly of its horse; we had explored an island, seen a good deal of its people and their culture, and had revictualled ship, all within four hours, yet without hurry!

Towards sundown we passed out into the Atlantic, through the Crooked Island Passage; at 8.45 p.m. the Light that marks the Passage dipped over our taffrail, and we turned in with that peace of mind which is the portion of those whose ship is clear of all land.

This day, April the 19th, Gibb's Hill Lighthouse, Bermuda, bore N. 42° E., distant 767 miles; it took us eleven days to do it.

April the 20th. — The sargasso weed formed floating islands sometimes many acres in extent; when one considers the marine fauna that centres round a piece of floating wreckage in tropical seas, some idea can be formed of the wealth of life associated with this vast sudd. Our patent log could no longer be towed.



 The Bermudas are a group of a hundred islands, most of which are, however, bare rocks. They were discovered in the beginning of the 1 6th century by Juan Bermudez, a Spaniard.

In 1609 attention was drawn to them by Sir George Somers, who was shipwrecked there on his way to Virginia, and found them "the most plentiful place that ever I came to for fish, hogs and fowl." Fifty emigrants were sent out in 1612. Moore, a ship's carpenter, was the first governor. He established his headquarters at St. George's. Later a more central position was needed, and the town of Hamilton was laid out, and became the capital in 1815. The American War brought the islands into notice from a naval point of view, and in 1810 a dockyard was begun on Ireland Island, thousands of convicts being sent out from England for its construction.

The Colony possesses representative institutions, but not responsible government.


We made Bermuda for the sake of gaining our northing. We had new canvas awaiting us there, that we ought to have received at Tahiti, and we had to decide, on cable advices, whether we would lay up Mana here in Bermuda, in the United States of North America, or bring her back to England.

The Sailing Directions offered us two harbours, St. George's and Hamilton. They do not point out that all shipping business, practically all business, is done at Hamilton. We selected St. George's. The harbour master came aboard with the pilot, and proved an interesting man, kindly and obliging — an old soldier, a keen conchologist, and a bit of a geologist. The harbour itself is excellent and charming; it extends away ad infinitum amongst the islets and coral patches, but there is little indication of its being made much use of by mercantile shipping.

St. George's Island is linked to its big neighbour by causeways and bridges, which are carried across the shallow coral sea. Its quaint, clean, sleepy little townlet, or village, exists by letting lodgings to American visitors, and growing early vegetables for exportation to the States.

The American Tourist is the winter migrant whose nature and idiosyncrasies are by the islanders most deeply studied. He, to the Bermudian, is Heaven's choicest gift — his coconut the all-sufficing. Nine-tenths of the brain power of the islanders is devoted to inducing the creature to visit the islands and to keeping it contented whilst it is there, the other tenth to supplying it with early vegetables in its continental habitat. Of course Bermuda is an important naval station, and a certain amount of business is done in purveying to the naval and military establishments, but that is a thing apart. The Dockyard is situated on islands well removed from both St. George's and Hamilton. In this we may see the finger of Providence; placed elsewhere it would have incommoded the American Tourist.

This cult of the foreigner is the explanation of many things which at first sight appear strange in Bermuda. It is about eleven miles by road from St. George's to Hamilton, and there is no means of public conveyance beyond a covered pair-horse wagonette, that act as a carrier's cart for goods and passengers. We marvelled exceedingly why this should be, whereupon it was thus explained to us by our butcher, who was also the proprietor of the shandy, ran express aforesaid, and of a hired-carriage business, and by his son and partner, the M.P. for the St. George's Harbour Division. The Americans find the climate of Bermuda delightful as a winter resort. At Hamilton monster hotels are built for them, but there is nothing whatever for them to do. The islands do not possess any features of natural or historical interest that appeal to tourists. Now the islanders had observed that the dominant note in the American character was its restlessness; unless an American could violently rush around and spend money he was wretched and pined. But the island had excellent roads and lovely views, so they provided carriages, and objectives to drive to associated with romance and story, the evolution of which, from a basis of nothing, is a standing testimony to their intellectual creative powers, and of the truth of the axiom that a demand creates a supply.

But the island, for we may ignore the numerous islets, is very small. With care and good management, and by severely rationing him in the extent of his daily shay excursions, it was found that the American could be kept alive, and healthy, and cheerful for 14 days: from one steamer to the next: all this time he exuded dollars. "All is well," as the ant said to the aphis. Then suddenly the heavens fell. A lewd spirit had prompted our friend the butcher of St. George's to import two motor-buses and with them run an hourly service between Port St. George and Hamilton, to the great convenience of the public, and to his own exceeding profit. As if this were not enough, he and others were known to have even placed orders in the States for motor-cars! Bitter was the cry of the carriage purveyors of Hamilton, of the hotels, of the furnished apartments. The American visitor would "do the darned island," every inch of its roads, twice over, in a single day, and get away by the same boat he had arrived by — (the boats stay two days loading vegetables).

But where shall salvation be found if not in "government of the people, by the people, for the people"? Many members of both Houses indirectly, and in some cases directly, were interested in the hired carriage, or apartment, or hotel lines. Trained in such schools for statesmen, the Legislature was able to visualise the national danger, and deal with it broadly, regardless of the vested interests of the day. Without delay both Houses met, an Act was passed, and the Royal Assent given through the Governor, whereby the butcher was given the cost price of his two buses, and a solatium; the buses were immediately to be sent back to the States, and, for the future, no form of automobile was to be landed, owned, or used on the island. Heavy penalties for infraction. So there is still one spot on earth, anyhow, where one can escape the scourge of the motor-horn.

For a few days we stayed at St. George's, getting a little smith's work done and watering ship. There is no surface water on the island; the rain water is collected and stored in great underground cisterns hewn in the solid coral rock of which the island is formed. The water supply thus conserved has never been known to fail. In Mana's case the Military Authorities kindly sent their large tank-boat alongside. At odd times we explored in the launch some of the labyrinth of waterways and islets forming part of St. George's Harbour, or connected with it. When doing so one afternoon, we made the acquaintance, at nightfall, of a coloured fisherman, by offering him the courtesy of a pluck home. This man (Bartram of St. George's) proved an extraordinarily good fellow. He said he never worked on Sundays, therefore he was free to offer to take us on that day, as his guest, to try for monsters in a certain wonderful hole, far out on the edge of the reef, a spot we could reach with the aid of our launch. He was most keen about it, so we accepted. The monster-capturing was a failure, but he and his two sons worked hard all day, and seemed much concerned that they had failed to show sport, nor would they consider any suggestion of payment for their long day's work, on our return to the ship. They accepted, however, a clasp-knife each, as a souvenir of our excursion.

Bartram had told us that he had at home a wonderfully fine and rare "marine specimen." (The collection of "marine specimens" is one of the refuges of despair of the American Tourist, and their supply has gradually become a minor industry of Bermuda.) He had found it some years ago. Many millionaires from the hotels or on yachts had offered him big prices for it, but the very fact that they were so keen to get it had made him all the more determined to keep it. Some day he had intended to sell it . Now would we accept it as a gift? On inspection it proved to be no coral, but a very fine example of a colony of sociable sea snails (Vermetus). We therefore suggested to Bartram that we should take it to England on Mana and offer it in his name as a gift to the British Museum (Natural History). This we did, and Dr. Harmer, the Keeper of the Zoological Department, was much pleased with it, and wrote to Bartram accordingly.

The interest of this little story lies in the fact of its being a typical example of the way in which one often finds, in our remote dependencies, the people exhibiting unexpected keenness and pride in associating themselves with England, and her interests, on an opportunity of doing so being pointed out to them. We had found it so at Pitcairn Island.

A more delightful place than Bermuda at which to spend a winter would be hard to find by those who care for pleasure sailing in smooth waters, fishing, sunshine, and the customary amenities of civilised life. Unhappily we could not spare the time to avail ourselves of the possibilities of St. George's. We had constantly to be at Hamilton on ship's business, so after several journeys to and fro in the dreadful covered wagonette, wherein physical discomfort almost rendered us indifferent to a kaleidoscopic succession of humorous persons, situations, and incidents, we got a pilot and went round under power into Hamilton Harbour. Pilotage is compulsory, but free. Once at Hamilton things went much more easily. The Colonial Authorities and the Admiral in Command and his Staff were most kind and hospitable. Admiralty House is a charming eighteenth-century English country residence, of moderate size, and romantically situated. In its garden, peeps of the sea are seen, through graceful subtropical foliage, at every turn, and miniature land-locked coves, reached from above by winding steps down the face of the falaise, afford the most perfect of boat harbours and bathing-pools.

Another delightful official residence is allotted to the officer in command of the Dockyard. In his case he is given a miniature archipelago. His tiny islands rise from 20 to 100 feet above the water. On one is his house; another is his garden; chickens and pigs occupy a third, whilst his milch goats live on various small skerries. As the extent of water between the different islets is proportional to their size, and is deep, the whole makes a very charming and compact picture. Yet he is only ten minutes by bicycle from his office in the Dockyard, although, from his little kingdom, no sign of the Dockyard is to be seen, it being shut off by a wooded promontory.

The Admiral was good enough to offer us every facility for laying up Mana in the Dockyard, but on various grounds we eventually decided to take war-time risks and bring her back to England, so receiving from him a signal-rocket outfit, and some kindly advice on the unwisdom of trying to run-down periscopes that showed no wake behind them, the vessel being now refreshed, at 0.55 p.m. on Friday, May the 12th, 1916, we weighed, and proceeded under power from Hamilton to the Examination Anchorage, with pilot aboard. Arriving there at 4.15 p.m. the Examining Officer came alongside and handed us the now usual special Admiralty clearance card, together with a courteous radiogram wishing us luck, from the Officer in Command of the Dockyard. The new trysail was hoisted, the engines stopped, and we commenced our voyage to Ponta Delgada in the Island of St. Miguel, one of the Azores, distant miles 1,869.



This run was of "yachting" character. Gentle breezes, smooth seas, an occasional sail on the horizon. On the eighth day out, at the beginning of the first watch, the lights of St. Elmo were seen burning on both fore and main trucks. It is rather remarkable that this was the first, and only occasion, on which this phenomenon occurred throughout the entire voyage. Occasionally we got a turtle. Ten o'clock in the morning of the 30th of May showed us the Peak of Pico Island, 65 miles away, and at 10 p.m. next day, Thurs., May the 31st, we hove-to off Ponta Delgada in the island of St. Miguel to await daylight. The 1,869 miles had taken us 18 days.

Having been the victims of the organised dishonesty of the pilots of San Francisco in California, we had long before decided to run no risks of having the vessel again detained for ransom by foreign officials. Mana therefore next day, June the ist, simply stood in and dropped a boat outside the breakwater, and again stood off, whilst we pulled in. Being Good Friday, it was, of course, a fiesta, all shops shut, and everybody away in the country. Our consul, too, was away for the day, but his wife kindly gave us our letters. We had been instructed to obtain from him the necessary information regarding war conditions, and the regulations governing shipping bound for British ports. At Bermuda nothing was known.

When pulling up the harbour, we had noticed one British vessel — an armed Government transport, evidently formerly a small German passenger-carrying tramp — so having bought some pineapples, vegetables and cigarettes, nothing else being procurable, we got into our boat and paid her a visit. Her commander was ashore for the day with the Consul fiestaing, but his Chief Officer was good enough to put us au courant with things, so we bade adieu to Ponta Delgada without any wish to see more of it, and pulled out to sea. The ship was far away to leeward, set down by wind and current. Not expecting us to get through our work so quickly, she had not troubled to keep her station, but went off to argufy by flag with a Lloyd's Signal-Station which would not admit that she was in its book.

After she had picked us up one of the men left aboard asked whether any of the craft in the harbour were "a-hanging Judas." Though there were several small square-rigged vessels alongside the Mole, none had, however, cock-billed their yards.1 It was interesting thus to find that the memory and meaning of the old sea custom still survived. Old superstitions and fancies still exist: an ancient shellback who was with us down to the s'uth'ard reprobated the capture of an albatross — "They is the spurrits of drownded seamen." Someone objected on doctrinal grounds, but was met with the crushing rejoinder: "I said spurrits: their souls ar' in 'ell."



And now we come to the last lap. On June the ist, by I p.m. we were again aboard Mana, the boat hoisted in, and she bore away to round Ferraira Point which forms the extremity of St. Michael's Island. From Ferraira's Point to the haven where we would be was no 1.5 miles, and the direction N.49Ό° E. true, or, shall we say. North East.

After making the customary routine entries in the Log Book associated with taking departure — the latitude, the longitude, the reading of the patent log, the canvas set, etc. — our Sailing-master makes the following entry, “And now we are fairly on our way to Dear Old Britain. All the talk now is of the submarine risks. I put our chances of getting through unmolested at 85 per cent. But is the Mana doomed? Time will tell, but I don't think."

Nevertheless every preparation was now made, in case we had to leave the ship in a hurry, at the orders of some German submarine. The engine was taken out of the lifeboat to save weight. Every detail both for her and the cutter was suitably packed or made up, and placed in the deck house, ready to be passed into her at the last moment before she was lowered. We could only afford room for the photographic negatives and papers of the Expedition. If the ship be sunk, the whole of the priceless, because irreplaceable, archaeological and ethnological collections must go with her.

The men, however, proceeded to pack, in their great seamen's bags, all the clutter and old rubbish they had accumulated during a voyage of over three years. Its bulk and weight would have rendered the boats unmanageable. Moreover, each man, when the time came, would be attending to shipping his property instead of giving all thought to getting his boat with her essential equipment safely away from the vessel. But we had taken them this long voyage without accident, and we were not going to let them make fools of themselves at the finish. Moreover, Mana carried a pretty mixed crowd: English, Spanish, Portuguese, and West Indian negroes, a Russian Finn, and descendants of the mutineers of the Bounty. At a pinch, amongst such a lot, long knives are apt to appear from nowhere, and self-control and discipline be at an end, with lamentable result. We therefore drew up a set of orders in triplicate; one copy for the fo'c's'le, one for aft, and one for entry in the official log, in which was clearly set out a routine that was to be followed to the letter in the event of our having to take to the boats. The details need not here be given, suffice to say that they stated that explicit orders for the common good were now set out in writing, and that THESE ORDERS WOULD NOT, WHEN THE OCCASION AROSE, BE REPEATED VERBALLY; that there was ample boat accommodation for all, if the lifeboat were got away safely from the ship before the cutter, but not otherwise, because all hands were needed to swing out the larger boat. Therefore, when the ship's bell rang, the Sailing-master would take up his position by the lifeboat in the waist, to superintend her launching and stowage, and to give orders, and eventually to take command of her, and the Master would pick up his loaded repeating rifle and spare cartridges in clips and go to the taffrail. (It was obvious from that position he could see and hear everything, and yet could not be approached or rushed by any, or many.)

Any man failing immediately to appear on deck when the bell rang would be shot dead without any warning when he did appear. Any man endeavouring to place his private gear in a boat would be shot dead in the act, without any warning. The like if he attempted to enter other than his own boat, or his own boat out of his turn. The like on a long knife, or other weapon, being seen in his hand or possession. The like on his failing to obey the verbal orders as issued.

By the routine laid down the lifeboat would get away safely with her crew and equipment. The cutter's own crew were strong enough to load and lower their own boat, after having assisted the heavy lifeboat, provided they obeyed the orders of the Mate who had charge of her. He was a good seaman, but it was essential that he should have the moral support that comes from a loaded rifle. Once boats all clear and safe, the lifeboat would pull in to the ship, as close as she thought wise, whereupon the "Old Man," in a nice cork jacket, would drop off his taffrail into the water, and she would pick him up.

These orders and the penalties, extreme as they were, met with general approval as far as we could gather indirectly. Two days after their being posted, when Thomas, the coloured cook, came for orders, we thought we would put him through his catechism. “Have you learnt up the orders in the fo'c's'le that concern you, Thomas?” "Yes, sar!” "When the bell rings, what will you do?” "Jump deck quick, damn quick, sar!" "Good! And then?" "I go starnbig boat." "And when she is in the water you'll jump into her?” "No, sar! You shoot Thomas. Cutter's my boat." Thomas had got up his orders thoroughly and intelligently, and departed quite pleased with his viva voce exam., and the bundle of cigarettes his reward.

Some of the men, finding that their kit-bags must be left behind, hit out the following ingenious plan for saving their clothes. They first put on their Sunday best suit, over that their weekday go-ashore rig, then their working clothes. To the foregoing must be added a knitted guernsey or two, and any superior underclothing. The result was most grotesque; they could hardly waddle, or get through the fo'c's'le hatch. Had the fine weather continued, their sufferings would have been severe. A gale, however, in which no submarine could show her nose, came to their rescue.

At the time we are writing of — June 1916 — the submarines were not operating far out into the Atlantic. Our idea was to keep Mana well away until we got on to about the same parallel of latitude as the Scilly Isles, and then wait thereabouts until it blew hard from the S.W. Blow it did, sure enough, with high confused seas: dangerous. Gradually they became bigger, but less wicked. We rode it out dry and comfortably as usual, with oil-bags to wind'ard. Unhappily it was an Easterly gale, instead of the Westerly we had hoped for. It moderated. The wind drew to the Nor'ard. We let her go, and sped up the Channel at a great pace, and arrived in St. Helen's Roads, Isle of Wight, at noon on June the 23rd. Twenty-two days from St. Miguel. We had entered and passed up the English Channel, unchallenged by friend or foe.

In St. Helen's Roads we took aboard the now obligatory Government pilot, who brought us through the different defences to the Hamble Spit Buoy, from which we had started three years and four months earlier.

We had traversed, almost entirely under canvas, without accident of consequence to ship or man, a distance of over One Hundred Thousand miles.

Such is the Mana of MANA.


[The Royal Cruising Club Challenge Cup, last held by Sunbeam (Lord Brassey), was, in 1917, awarded to Mana on her return, by special resolution of the Annual General Meeting of the Club, “for a remarkable cruise in the Pacific."]

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