R. M. S. Scot
February 4th, 1900.
[DEAR MOTHER:]
A great change has come since I wrote you from Madeira.
We are now on Summer seas and have regulated the days so that
they pass very pleasantly — not that we do not want to be on
land — I never so much wanted it — Somers is with us and is
such a comfort. He is even younger than he used to be and so
quick and courteous and good tempered. He is like a boy off
on a holiday — I think he is very much in love
with his wife, but in spite of himself he is glad to get a
holiday, and like all of us he will be so much more glad when
he is homeward bound. They threatened to shut us out of our
only chance of putting foot on land at Madeira — In the first
place, we were so delayed by the storm that we arrived at
eight o'clock at night, so that we missed seeing it in its
beauty of flowers and palms. And then it was so rough that
they said it was most unsafe for us to attempt to go ashore.
It was a great disappointment but I urged that every one loved
his own life, and if the natives were willing to risk theirs
to sell us photographs and wicker baskets it was probably
safer than it looked — So we agreed to die together, and with
Somers got our rain coats, and the three of us leaped into a
row boat pulled by two Portugese pirates and started off
toward a row of lamps on a quay that seemed much lower than
the waves. The remainder on the ship watched us disappear
with ominus warnings — We really had a most adventurous
passage — towards shore the waves tossed us about like a
lobster pot and we just missed being run down by a coal barge
and escaped an upset over the bow anchor chain of a ship. It
was so close that both Somers and I had our coats off and I
told Cecil to grab the chain — But we weathered it and landed
at a high gangway cut in the solid rock the first three steps
of which were swamped by the waves. A rope and chain hung
from the top of the wharf and a man swung his weight on this
and yanked us out to the steps as the boat was on the wave.
The rain beat and the wind roared and beautiful palms lashed
the air with their fronds — It was grand to get on shore once
again — At the end of the wharf we were hustled into a sled on
steel runners, like a hearse with curtains
around it and drawn by bullocks — The streets were all of
mosaic, thousands of little stones being packed together like
corn on a cob. Over this the heavy sledge was drawn by the
bullocks while a small boy ran ahead through the narrow
streets to clear the way — He had a feather duster made of
horse's tail as a badge of authority and he yelled some
strange cry at the empty streets and closed houses. Another
little boy in a striped jersey ran beside and assured us he
was a guide. It was like a page out of a fairy story. The
strange cart sliding and slipping over the stones which were
as smooth as ice, and the colored house fronts and the palms
and strange plants. The darkness made it all the more
unreal — There was a governor's palace buttressed and guarded
by sentinels in a strange uniform and queer little cafe's
under vines — and terraces of cannon, and at last a funny,
pathetic little casino. It was such a queer imitation of Aix
and Monte Carlo — There were chasseurs and footmen in
magnificent livery and stucco white walls ornamented with silk
shawls. Also a very good band and a new roulette table —
Coming in out of the night and the rain it was like a theatre
after the "dark scene" has just passed — There were some most
dignified croupiers and three English women and a few sad
English men and some very wicked looking natives in diamonds
and white waistcoats. We had only fifteen minutes to spare so
we began playing briskly with two shilling pieces Cecil with
indifferent fortune and Somers losing — But I won every time
and the croupiers gave me strange notes of the Bonco de
Portugal which I put back on the board only to get more of a
larger number — I felt greatly embarrassed as I was not a real
member of the club and I hated to blow in out of a hurricane
and take their money and sail away again — So I appealed to
one of the sad eyed Englishmen and he assured me it was all
right, that they welcomed the people from the passing steamers
who generally left a few pounds each with the bank. But the
more I spread the money the more I won until finally the whole
room gathered around. Then I sent out and ordered champagne
for everybody and spare gold to all the waiters and still
cashed in seventy-five dollars in English money. It was
pretty good for fifteen minutes and we went out leaving the
people open-eyed, and hitting the champagne bottles — It was
all a part of the fun especially as with all our gold we could
get nothing for supper but "huevos frite" which was all the
Spanish I could remember and which meant fried eggs — But we
were very wet and hungry and we got the eggs and some fruit
and real Madeira wine and then rowed out again rejoicing. The
pirates demanded their pay half way to the boat while we were
on the high seas but they had struck the very wrong men, and I
never saw a mutiny quelled so abruptly — Somers and I told
them we'd throw them overboard and row ourselves and they
understood remarkably well — The next day we were the admired
and envied of those who had not had the nerve "to dare to
attempt." It was one of the best experiences altogether we
had ever had and I shall certainly put Madeira on my silver
cup.
RICHARD.
After their arrival at Cape Town, where Richard arranged
for his wife to stay during his absence at the British front,
he started for Ladysmith, sailing on the same vessel on which
he had left England.
