ee
Bellefonte, Pa., December 6, 1918.
Shanghaied at
Seventeen
By
Sergeant Arthur Guy
Empey
Author of “Over the Top,”
. “First Call,” Etc.
Oo-0-0
Mr. Empey’s Experi-
encesDuring HisSeven-
teen MonthsintheFirst
Line Trenches of the
British Army in France
7, by The McClure Ni
(Copyright, 161 by are ewspaper
In New York Public School No. 78 I
had three chums, “Bill” Meek, “Jim”
Fleming, and “Charlie” Unger.
Bill was full of wild ideas and
schemes. He had the “get-rich-quick”
mania. About every two weeks he
would call us aside and in a myste-
rious and important manner carefully
unfold some daring scheme to get rick
quick, giving his personal guarantee
that it could not fail. At first we
were very enthusiastic over his
scheme and wanted to go in “with
both feet,” and would carefully work
out the details of how to proceed,
when, bang! Bill would introduce an-
other project absclutely different from
the preceding one. ‘When we asked
him what became of his wonderful
proposition of two weeks ago, he un-
blushingly told us that unforeseen cir-
cumstances which no one could pre-
vent had interfered. Then he would
unroll another wild dream of fortune.
And so it went on; one scheme after
another vanishing in smoke, until we
became very skeptical. Personally,
I had no faith in any of Bill's day
dreams, but I admired, and perhaps
envied, his spirit of adventure; so at
last I decided that I would take a
chance, success or no success.
One night Bill came around to the
house with four tickets for a hload
and thunder war play entitled “Cuba's
Vow.” His brother was playing the
villain. This play greatly impressed
me; in fact, from the first act to the
last the footlights were gushing blood,
love and adventure—and rotten act-
ing. Bill’s brother was awfyl.
Bill was a pretty goo: judge of
human nature. He had taken us to
this play to get us worked up to a
pitch of enthusiasm, and thus getting
us in the proper frame of mind, he
could unroll his latest scheme.
That night, after the show, he pro-
posed a trip to South America, which
took our breaths away. We were to
run away and ship on a tramp steam-
er, for a passage of about nine
months. With the money thus earned
we were to equip ourselves and start
out for Port Limon, Costa Rica, and
go into the coffee plantation business.
We all fell for this and took a solemn
vow to stick. Tne scheme especially
appealed to me hecause here was my
chance wo follow Dana in his “Two
Years Before the Mast.” The next
day, after sleeping it over, Charlie and
Jim decided that there was more
money in New York, and refused to |
go. IY «admit I had a sinking sensa-
tion in the pit of my stomach when
I viewed the proposition in the sun-
light, but I stuck. Then Bill and I
made a tour of th> docks in New
York, trying to find the ship we
wanted. We fell in with several
“boarding masters.” These men In-
fest the water fronis of large cities
and are nothing hut bloodsuckers
preying on sailors. One of these
parasites took wus on board an old
tramp steamer, lying in Erie basin,
called the Cushko. Here we met
the steward, a “lime juicer,” John
Royal-Minns, with the emphasis on
the hyphen. The wonderful taie of
ease, Inxury and “getting paid for see-
ing the world” stuff that the steward
ana the boarding master unrolled be-
fore our eager eyes carried us into
the seventh heaven of expectation.
This was five o’clock in the afternoon.
The ship was to sail at three-ten the
following morning, but they did not
tell us this. The steward said that
we were just the two that he wanted,
there being vacancies on the ship for
second steward and second cook. He
suggested that we sleep on the ship
that night, and then in the morning,
after seeing what it was like, we could
go home and decide whether we want-
ed to ship or not. I demurred at
this, because I had to go home first,
s0 he gave Bill and me permission to
£0, but said we had to get back at
midnight. We hurried home and on
the sly I packed my grip with my be-
longings.
That night I exploded a bombshell
in the family. After @essert had been
served, puffed up with importance, I
declared: “Well, I'm going to South
America,” A barrage of laughter
rippled around the table. This got
me sore, and I shut up like a clam.
It was February, and very cold
About seven o’clock that night a geeat
storm came up and the streets were
soon covered with sleety ice. I turned
into bed with my clothes on. Bill was
to notify me at ten o’clock by throw-
ing pebbles against the window pane
in my room. Every time I looked
out into the street and saw that howl
ing blizzard, a picture of a ship wal-
lowing in a trough of the sea con-
stantly came before my mind and I
shivered, and my enthusiasm dropped
AT TR
!
|
to zero. I could not take my eyes
away from the clock. It was an
agony of intense waiting, similar to
that when, later in the trenches, I
kept looking at my wrist watch wait-
ing for four o'clock in the morning
when we were to go “over the top”
in a charge. Oh, how I wished that
Bill would change his mind!
About five minutes to ten, crack!
crack! came a couple of pebbles
against the window pane, sounding
like the crack of bullets on the west-
ern front. With my shoes in one
hand and my grip in the other, I soft-
ly tiptoed downstairs, put on my
shoes and heavy overcoat, and opened
the front door. I was greeted by a
rush of wind, snow and sleet. Bill
looked like a snowman.
We plowed through the blizzard,
got on a trolley car, and reached Erie
basin at a quarter to 12, went up the
gangplank and reported to the stew-
ard.
The ship looked like an ice palace.
You could hear the creaking of
winches and the straining of cables,
and could see dark forms sliding and
cursing on the slippery decks under
the glow of the cargo lights.
The steward greeted us very cor-
dially and I thought him the finest
man I had ever met. Bill was shipped
as second steward, and I got the bhil-
let of second cook.
My “glory hole” was aft on the
main deck, while Bill slept amidships.
I piled into the little two-by-four bunk
and was soon fast asleep. I had =
horrible dream ; a giant had me by the
heels and was swinging me around his
head, trying to dash my brains out
against the side of the ship. I awoke
in terror. The “glory hole” seemed
to be looping the loop, and I could '
hear heavy thuds as immense waves
broke inst the side of the ship,
the water hissing and rushing around !
the port hole. Reaching for the elec
tric button I turned on the switch.
An awful mess met my eyes. The
deck of my room was awash. The
grip and all my belongings, which
I had unpacked before turning in,
were swishing and swashing on the
deck, now in this corner, now in that.
The ship was rolling like a log in
the trough of the sea. I held on to
the sides of my bunk in terror. A
wave would swash against my door
and water would pour in through the
cracks. I felt deathly sick and I
thought I was going to die. I was
experiencing my first touch of ser
sickness.
About six bells in the morning
(three o'clock) the door opened, and
there standing in the opening was a
huge Swede, encased in oilskins. The
icy blast sent a cold shiver through
me. I wondered what he wanted, but
did not wonder long.
“You bane get tea and toast on
bridge for mate, damn quick.” I was
bewildered. The door slammed and
once again I was alone. Fifteen min-
utes must have passed when the door
opened sgain and in rushed the
toughest looking seaman I have ever
seen. He had only ene eye. Later
on I found that he was out first mate,
“One-eyed Gibson,” a
from Nova Scotia, and a man whom it
was not safe to trifle with. Without
a word he stepped into the glory hole,
grabbed my shoulder in a grip of
steel, and yanked me out of my bunk !
into the icy water which was awash '
on the deck. This was my first in- |
troduction to him.
“Get out o’ that, you landlubber. |
There's no fire in the galley, and I!
“Get Out o’ That, You Landlubber.”
want my tea on the bridge, and I
want it now, or I'll put out your dead |
lights.”
1 meekly answered, “Yes, sir,” and |
started to put on my wet socks. See-
ing this action, he shouted, “Never
mind that damned rigging. Get into
the galley and get that fire alight.”
My feet were blue with the cold
and my teeth were chattering.
a look
“We're outside o’ Sandy Hook, bound
south for the Horn, and she's blowing
big guns.” Then he left.
I stepped out of my glory hole onto
the deck. We were dipping our scup-
pers, and huge seas were breaking
over the weather side. One minute
the after deck would appear like a
steep hill in front of me, and a hor-
rible churning sound would come from
the racing propeller. Then the deck
wenld slant away from me and a loud
chug! and a shiver through the ship
as the propeller sank again into the
water.
Benumbed and wet from the icy
spray, I managed to steer a course
to the companionway, and dragged
myself to the upper deck. A sailor
was in the galley and had started a
fire. The ship was rolling, pitching
“Blue-Noser” !
I tim- ;
idly asked, “Where are we, sir?” With |
of contempt he answered.
and lurching, In that galley it sound-
ed like a bombardment. Pots and
pans were rattling in their racks; a
few of them had falien out, and were
chasing each other around the deck.
Cold and miserable, I crouched in
the corner, keeping myself from fall-
ing by holding on to the rail in front
of the stove.
The sailor took compassion on me,
and made the toast and tea. How
he did it was a marvel to me, but
later on I became very expert my-
self,
Following the “life lines” on the
upper deck, I at last managed to reach
the bridge with my pot of tea and
two slices of toasted bread. There
were two men at the wheel. In the
darkness I went up to them and asked
for the mate. They did not answer.
Just then I received a resounding
smack on the back which made my
teeth rattle, and that dreaded, gruff
voice of the mate reached my ears
through the wind: “Damn you, you
hell’s spawn, keep away from the men
at the wheel or I'll throw you over
the side.”
I mumbled my apologies, and fol-
lowed the mate into the chart house.
He greedily drank the tea, and in
about four bites disposed of the pieces
of toast. The toast was soaked in
salt water and I inwardly wished that
it would poison him; in fact I prayed
that the ship would sink with all on
board. Such is seasickness.
I managed, somehow or other, to
make my way back to the galley, and
I met my “superior officer” for the
trip, the “cookie.” He was about five
feet nothing in height; a shriveled-up
‘Welshman about forty-five years old.
. He reminded me of a mummy in the
Museum of Natural History in Cen-
. tral park. If he had ever smiled I
, am sure that his face would have
cracked. It seemed frozen. into one
perpetual scowl. He gave one look at
me and let out a howl.
“Blawst my deadlights, an’ this ’ere
(pointing to me) is what I'm to work
with on this bloomin’ passage. I'm
lucky, I am, not ‘arf, I ain't” He
looked like some gorilla. The rolling
of the ship affected him not in the
least. He seemed to sway and bend
with every movement of the ship.
The next two or three days were a
horrible nightmare to me. How I
lived through them I do not know. I
had a deadly fear of the cook. As
soon as he found out that I could not
even boil water without burning it he
started in to make my life a misery.
He had a habit of carrying a huge
butcher knife in his belt. Between
meals he would sit down on a bench
and constantly feel the edge. at the
There Was a Reason for His Carrying
This Knife.
same time telling me what an expert
he was at carving. Later on I found that
there was a reason for his carrying this
knife. He and the crew were at dag-
ger points, he never daring to go for-
ward except in case of necessity, and
' his butcher knife. Down in my heart
"I realizd that if the occasion should
i arise he would not be backward in
demonstrating his art of carving on
his opponent. That Welshman was
: no better cook than I wes, and the
' erew soon became aware of this fact;
hence their hostility.
, The Cushko was a “lime Juicer,”
| sailing under the English flag. The
skipper was a “lime juicer,” the first
: mate a “blue noser,” the first engineer
a Scotsman, while the crew was com-
| posed of Spaniards, Italians, Square-
heads, Finns, Swedes and Russians,
| The bos’n was Irish, and a firm be-
; liever in Home Rule. A worse gang
| of cutthroats could hardly be con-
ceived ; a nice, polite bunch they were.
Believe me, Bill and I had our troubles,
Bill and I were the only two Ameri-
i cans on board. The engineer's mess.
, man was a Prussian, Karl Tatzner by
name. I nicknamed him “Fritz.” He
was only twenty years old, but was
clumsy, strong as an ox and about six
feet tall.
After weathering the gale we at last
came into the Gulf stream, and off the
coast of Florida it was warm and
pleasant.
I found that my duties were to peel
! spuds, wash pots and pans and be a
regular “fetch and carry” for the cook.
My office hours were from six bells in
“he morning (three o'clock) until four
ells at night (len o'clock). I was
greasy and filthy at all times, having
nothing but salt water to wash in, and
this would not cut the grease. Bill
had it much easier than I. I had mur-
der in my heart and vowed to “jump
ship” at the first port we put into.
After nine or ten days we came
alongside at Castries, St. Lucia, Brit-
ish West Indies, to coal ship. At this
then he was careful always to carry.
‘wished to rest.
ARR RRS —
port the men believed in woman suf-
frage. Long lines of half-naked black
women, with huge baskets of coal on
their heads, passed up the forward
gang plank, dumped their load of coal
into the open bunkers, and left the
ship by the after gangway. Before
leaving the ship the fourth engineer
: gave each one a little brass check,
which later on she would turn in to
the coaling company for an English
penny. While the women were work-
ing the mmen would sit around the dock
smoking cigarettes,
The natives at St. Lucia had a great
appetite for salt pork. I soon got
wise to this fact and traded about a
half 2 barrel of pork for limes, guava
jelly, bay rum and alligator pears.
If the steward or cook had caught me
I would never be writing this story.
The women threw the pork into their
dirty coal baskets, and upon reaching
the dock gave it to their husbands or
sweethearts, who would immediately,
without washing it, devour it. They
spoke in a jibbering patois which I
could not understand. Some of them
could speak pretty zood English. The
kids, averaging from seven to fifteen
years, were running around naked, or
diving off the dock for pennies which
swe threw overboard.
About two hours before sailing from
St. Lucia, a little fellow about fifteen
years of age came to the entrance of
the galley and in fair English told
Bill and me a pathetic story of in-
human treatment which would have
melted hearts of stone. He'wanted us
to stow him away on the ship. 1 was
agreeable, but Bill warned me that
this was a very grave offense against
the English board of trade laws, the
maximum penalty being fourteen
years’ imprisonment. I did not wish
to incur this risk, therefore would
not listen to the entreaties of the
young nego, explaining to him the
penalty of the board of trade laws.
Upon hearing this, a cunning look,
which at the time did not appear sig-
nificant to me, came into his eyes, and
he told me that if 1 would stow him
away, “see how eusy it will be for
you.” He would do all of my work,
and all I would have to do would be
to sit on the superstructure and let
my feet hang. I thought this was
worth risking fourteen years for, so
fell in with the plan, Bill objecting.
The ventilators had been unshipped |
while the coaling was going on, and
were lying aft on the poop deck.
Watching our chance, we sneaked aft
and hid thé little fellow in one of the
ventilators, warning him, upon pain
of death, not to make a sound until the
ship was well under way. To say that
I was nervous is putting it mildly.
We cleared St. Lucia and were soon
at sea. The islands of Martinique, St.
Lucia and Barbados were tiny gray
dots on the horizon when an Italian
sailor, Louis Maranio, went aft to ship
the veniilators. In a few minutes He
came rushing forward with terror in
his eyes. As he passed the galley I
stopped him and asked what was the
matter, - All he could gasp out was
“Mary of God, a devil ees on da ship.”
“One-eyed Gibson,” seeing his terror,
went aft with him and soon we could
see him coming forward, leading our
little stowaway by the ear. The little
negro was howling blue murder, and
the curses of the mate snapped like a
wireless message. Luckily for me the
mate stopped at the galley and said,
“Keep your eye on this black skunk
until I can take him before the ‘old
man.’” For five minutes I put all my
power of entreatyeinto my voice and
prayed the stowaway to stick by mej; -
to swear that he came aboard of his
own volition. He promised to do so.
Then the mate came after him and
took him before the captain. , During '
this fifteen minutes of interview I
lived in an agony of torment and sus-
pense.
with a smile on his face and I knew
things were all right. He told me that
the captain had shipped him at a shill-
ing a month for the passage. For two
days he was detailed to help me in
the galley, and I lived the life of a
prince. We nicknamed him “Monday,”
the day that he came on board. His
real name was Charles Tasima Benn.
On the fourth day, Monday, after
peeling a bucket of spuds, while I was
reading and smoking, threw down
his knife and, with a cunning leer, in
a commanding tone told me to get
busy and complete the task; that he
I started in to “bull-
doze” him, but he simply held his
hand in my direction, fingers extended,
and in a majestic voice informed me:
“From now on, work for the Ameri-
can I will not. I tell Meester Captain
American Monday stowed away. Mees-
ter American to preeson go fourteen
years British government.” I nearly
fainted. From that time Bill and I
were Monday's abject slaves. We
even waited on him personally. Any
article in my possession that Monday
desired was his for the asking. The
steward wormed the secret out of
Monday, and I was also his slave. Bill
and I spent a life of hell on board.
After getting into the tropics lime
juice was issued daily to the crew to
keep away scurvy. The food was hor-
rible, The pork was rotten; in fact,
on the head of one of the salt pork
casks was stamped “Inspected 1883.”
The crew were on the verge of mutiny.
Then we reached the eastern en-
trance of the Straits and it was blus-
tery and cold. The captain attempted
to negotiate the Straits one bright
moonlight night. After about three
ours the moon disappeared and we
went on the rocks, knocking a big hole
in the side of the ship, and only quick
and efficient work by the carpenter
and crew saved us from sinking. They
dropped a huge sail over the side, cov-
ering the hole, The boats were put
over the side and we expected the ship
every minute to founder. Next day we
The little fellow came back:
were towed into Punta Arenas, and
after two weeks the ship was again
made seaworthy.
At Talecahuana we shipped 28 Span-
iards, or “hombres,” as we called
them, to work the carge. This doubled
my work, and I prayed that I would
die. It was nothing but misery to me.
I must have peeled cleven million bar.
rels of spuds; in fact, I never turned
in before six bells at night, and had
to turn out at six bells in the morning.
After touching at 13 ports on the
west coast, discharging our cargo, we
left for a little island called Lobas,
where we were to take on a cargo of
guano. While working this carzo it
was misery for everyone on boara; the
strong ammonia from the guano made
our eyes red and watery, and we could
only breathe by wrapping big handker-
chiefs around our noses and mouths.
The wind was constantly blowing, and
guano was even in our food.
Then, coming back, we touched at
Valparaiso, Chile. To me death seemed
easier than the homeward-bound voy-
age, so one night Bill and I slid down
the anchor chain and swam to a “bum-
boat” lying near us. We gave the
Chileno $4 to row us ashore. He did
so. Dripping wet we crawled up onto
the stone quay and made tracks for
the town. We found that the dock was
enclosed by a tall iron fence. At the
gate were two customs officers, who
immediately put us under arrest. Bill
and I had $20 in gold between us,
and, as is usual in South America, it
was a simple matter to bribe the cus-
toms officials to let us through. This
cost us half of our fortune, but we did
not care. Freedom was worth all of it.
We were well into the town and feei-
ing secure when we were held up by
a Chilean gendarme, who looked like
a walking arsenal. This cost us $2
more for our freedom. He left us in
a hurry and went around the block.
We had walked about five minutes
when, bang! another gendarme. This
cost us $4. After leaving him we were
more cautious, hiding our remaining
money in my shoe. Again we were
arrested. We said we had no money
and were haled into the presence of
the “commandante of police.” He
had one hundred and seventy;eight
medals on his chest and four thou-
sand yards of gold braid on his collar
and cuffs. He had us searched, but
did not find the money. Very much
disappointed, in broken English he in-
formed ug that our ship wes to sail
at four o'clock the next morning, and
that if he found us in Valparaiso we
would be sent to the mines.
Shivering and trembling we wended
our way back to the dock and hunted
around for a boatman. Bribing him
with our remaining money he at last
brought us alongside, just before the
gangplank was lifted. The black
smoke was pouring from the single |
Then we went
funnel of the Cushko.
before tne captain, and he “logged” us
ten pounds ($50) each.
On our homeward-bound passage
we went around the Horn and ran
into a gale. The bos’n mutinied. Old
“One-eyed Gibson” came behind him :
and laid him low with a marlinspike. |
carrying him amidships, he:
chained him to the iron steps leading !
Then,
to the bridge. He remained this way
for a day and a half, exposed to cold
and icy wind. Strict orders were
passed through the ship °that no one
was to approach him. That night,
under cover of darkness, Bill and I
sneaked him a steaming pot of stew,
and some hot coffee. If he had lived,
we would, through this one action.
have gained a true friend for life.
From exposure he contracted pneu-
monia and died. He was buried at
sea. The carpenter sewed him in a
sack, and tying an old iron wheel to
his feet, placed him on a plank, and
while the captain read a rough burial
service the plank was tilted, and the
body of tle bos’n went down to rest
in Davy Jones’ locker.
The first port we touched at, the
consul’s flag was hoisted at the fore-
mast, and a bleary-eyed, half-drunken
little old man came on board and was
closeted with the captain for about an
hour. When he came out he was
staggering, and his eyes, if possible,
were more bleary. The captain lined
the crew up, and the consul, in a
thick and stuttering voice, asked the
crew if the bos’n had died from natu-
ral causes.
men could not understand what he
said, and a silence prevailed. At sea
silence means consent. I butted in
and said “No.” I was standing next
to the mate. I felt that gorilla-like
hand of his pinching the back of my
neck, and I nearly fainted. Then the
consul went over the side into his
boat, and was soon pulling for the
shore. We lifted anchor and the port
was left behind.
Half way up the coast we ran out
of fresh water, and had tp drink con-
densed water from an old squeaky
condensing engine. It was brackish
and sickening. I would have sold my
soul for one drink of clear, cold water.
Monday became tyrannical and un-
bearable, and it was up to Bill and
me to devise some scheme to keep
him in check. :
Through listening to Monday's
stories, I knew that he was very su-
perstitious and believed in magie, or.
“zobi,” as he called it.
Bill told him that my father in
America was a great medicine man
and that I was gifted with magic.
While loading guano at Lobas, the
fourth engineer had gone on a shoot-
iLz trip and killed several huge peli-
ans. He skinned these and gave me
one of the skins. Bill and I worked
a scheme. That morning a little black
bird fell on the deck, and I picked it
up and took it to my glory hole. It
was in a dying condition. I told Bill
that that night, about ten o'clock, I
would go aft on the poop deck with
Ninety per cent of the
i EE
the pelican’s skin down my back, and,
with my face smeared with black,
would do a mystic dance. He was to
take Monday and hide behind the ven-
tilator, and while I was doing my war
dance, he would explain to Monday
that I was in communication with my
father, the great American medicine °
man. He did this and it made quite
a hit. The next morning Monday
came to me, and, bowing low, request-
od a token, as he called it; a message
from my father. I promised to give
him one, but we were sure up against
it. Then I thought of the little black
bird in my glory hole, and the solution
was at hand. I very solemnly inform-
ed Monday that at eight o’clock that
night my father would send a message
to me in the form of a little land bird,
All day Monday kept away from me,
adoration and awe in his eyes. Bill
and I immediately repaired to the
glory hole, and certainly took tender
care ‘of that bird, praying that it
would live until eight o'clock. About
ten minutes to eight I put on my
feathers and sneaked aft with the lit-
tle bird, placed it on the steering gear,
and commenced my mystic dance. I
chanted a little song: “Oh, father,
greatest of medicine men, a token is
desired for the esteemed friend of
your son. Oh, father, send me this
token.” Then, with a few mystie
grunts, I beseeched Bill and Monday
to come and receive the token. Mon-
day came trembling aft and I pointed
io the little black bird which was
weakly gasping its last, but it saved
the day for us. How we honored and
respected that little bunch of black
feathers. Curious to see what Mon-
day would do, we left him. He sat by
the bird for over an hour, chanting in
that weird, sing-song patois of the
British West Indies. From that time
on Monday was our slave.
Two days before reaching St. Lucia,
the captain sent for us, and said that
he knew that Bill and I had stowed
away Monday. We, like a couple of
fish, fell for this and admitted it,
whereupon the captain coolly in-
formed us that we had forfeited all
pay and allowances due us for the en-
tire voyage. The joke of it was that
under the board of trade laws, the
Cushko had to go two hundred miles
out of her way to get to St. Lucia and
put Monday ashore.
We dressed him in a long pair of
white pants; the carpenter gave him
a red vest; Bill placed a derby hat
on his head and he went ashore in a
small boat. When the boat returned
we lifted avchor, and as St. Lucia
again faded into the distance we could
see a solitary little figure on the dock
waving his white pants around his
head. He had removed them upon
reaching port. We felt a pang of re-
gret as he faded out of sight.
After an uneventful trip we went
into quarantine in New York harbor.
At the ofirst sight of the statue of
' liberty a rush of independence and
patriotism surged through me, and I
sat down on the hatchway and abso-
- Iutely « used to work. The captain
threatened to put me in double irons.
I told him to go toehell, and do it;
that I was a free American in a free .
American port, and 1 claimed the pro-
tection of the Stars and Stripes, and
in accordance with my rights as a sail-
or, I demanded the consul’s flag to be
hoisted at the foremast. The captain
gave me a hard look but wilted.
The next afternoon at eight bells I
landed in New York, free again. I
was dressed in a pair of blue overalls
barefooted, a Panama hat on my head,
black as a negro from sunburn, a red
handkerchief around my neck, and
wearing a white negligee shirt. On
my left shoulder I had a small mon-
key, and in my right hand a wooden
cage with a parrot in it. In my pocket
was $8.40 in silver, but I did not care.
I was again on terra firma with the
Stars and Stripes floating above me.
I received a wonderful welcome at
home, and was of the opinion that the
hardships of my cruise were well
' worth enduring, in view of the recep~
tion I was receiving.
But of course all wonders die out
in nine days, and mine sizzled out like
a wet firecracker on the Fourth of
July, and it was up to me to get busy
and find something to do.
Thus ended my first real adventure.
Movies in Jerusalem.
It is entirely fitting and in com-
plete accord with the progress of civ-
lization that the movies finally have
reached the Holy City of Jerusalem.
Since the British drove out the Turks
and Germans several motion picture
houses have been opened in that an-
ciqut city, which plays so important
a ®art in the world’s history. Just
think what a magnet the new marvel
must be to the natives, and what a
picture in themselves they must pre-
sent as they crowd the entrance ways.
In this and other more favored coun-
tries motion pictures have come to be
an educational influence of no mean
degree. It is obvious, therefore, that
if the proper means are employed and
care exercised they can be made to
instruct those long-benighted people
as to what the allies actually fought
for. At any rate the effort is well
worth a trial. One can readily imag-
ine the proud Arab stalking his way
into a movie playhouse, and then go-
ing back to his family and comrades
in the hills and telling the story of
true freedom.—Savannah News.
He Stood Pat.
an who had walked a long
3 id see-
the price of a
quart of r, :
' “Threepence,” replied the milkman,
“Then give me 2 quart in pints,”
taid Pat.
Pat on drinking
“How do we stand?”
The milkman replied, “I owe you a
wint.”?
“And T owe you one,” said Pat, “so
we are quits.—Passing Show.
one pint asked.
ol?
od