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 Algecira