Southern Cross.
Southern Cross.
"Neptune" is a "game" played only at sea, and the "sport" is generally indulged in when a passenger steamship is sailing under the equator. A canvas tank is fixed on deck and nearly filled with water. It is an unvarying rule with some travelers that one who has not crossed the equator must be "Neptuned." A "coaster," as one is termed who has never crossed the equatorial line, is reminded by the Simon-pures that, in order to be a full-fledged traveler, he must take a plunge in the canvas tank. Most passengers who are not sick comply with the request, but there are some who do not take kindly tothe idea. In such instances a half dozen, or a dozen passengers if necessary, bend the will of the unwilling one to their idea of maintaining this tradition of the sea by literally picking up the unbeliever and pitching him into the canvas tank of water. He then has been "Neptuned." Danger of taking cold from this outdoor plunge is slight, as often the tar in the cracks between boards on deck of the ship is bubbling from the intense rays of the sun.
Having reached the southern division of the world, the heavenly bodies forming the Southern Cross appear. The cross is not composed of a thickly starred upright beam, neither is there a compact panel of stars forming the crosspiece. Four stars located at certain sections of the heavens form a distinct outline of a cross. The great crucifix at times appears to be standing straight, but more often it will be seen in the heavens in a reclining position, so to speak; again it will be observed resting on its side, but never pointing downward. The section of the sky in which the cross is to be found is the southeast. At one season of the year it will rest near the center of the firmament and in the "Milky Way "; at another period it will be seen closer to the horizon. Lesser bodies appear in the zone embraced by the four stars that compose the profile of the ensign of Christianity, but these neither add to nor detract from the formation of the solemn emblem of suffering that stands out so clearly among the millions of orbs in the starry firmament. Two bright stars below, in direct line with the bottom star of the cross, are called "the pointers."
What a difference is at once apparent in the period of daylight north of the equator and that south of the equatorial line. From a slow setting sun and a lingering twilight north of the great line to a rapidly setting sun and a comparatively short twilight south of the equator is observed. Fifteen to twenty minutes after the sun sets darkness will have settled.
"Holy stoning a ship" is a nautical term that, when first heard by a landsman, arouses his curiosity concerning the particular duty the phrase suggests in a sailor's routine. A holy stone—somewhat larger than two bricks placed together, ofcream color and of a soft or sandy material—is used to whiten the deck of a ship. Most persons would conclude that a thorough washing of a deck with clear water should satisfy one possessed of even super-neat exactions. But a sailor's conception of the term "spick and span" does not end in this matter with the merit of water alone. The holy stone is secured in an iron frame similar to that of a house mop, with handle attached. It is also pushed forward and pulled backward when used to clean a deck in the same way that a mop is used to clean a floor. The deck is made wet before "stoning," then sprinkled with fine white sand, and is next thoroughly gone over with the "cleaner." When the sailor has finished his hard "scrubbing" task the deck appears many shades brighter than it would if only water had been used. The term "holy stone" is said to have originated through the first stones used in bleaching ship decks having been taken from the ruined walls of a church in Cornwall, England.
Security of life in an Indian's bark canoe, even when going over river rapids, would seem assured, compared to the chances against one being able to keep his feet on a Brazilian catamaran sailing on the broad ocean. Men stand on two logs tied together, these about a foot each in diameter and from eight to ten feet in length, the upper side flat, with a small pole fastened in one of the logs, to which is secured a piece of canvas—as flimsy a sample of sea craft as one may see in a lifetime. No provision being made for a seat on the shaky and risky "boat"—no room for one, in fact—it seemed dangerous to sail it even on a small lake; yet a number of these were seen skimming over the sea several miles outside the harbor of Pernambuco, Brazil.
We had reached South America at the beginning of March, which is Northern August south of the equator. The winter season of the year in the northern is the summer in the southern division of the world.
Passengers leaving the vessel entered a large basket by a door. When six persons had got inside, the winches on the ship began to revolve, raising the basket high enough to clear the deck rail, and the passengers were slowly lowered to a lighter below. Chug! They had reached the bottom, and if any of the travelers had their tongue between their teeth at that moment it would be safe to infer that that member had suffered from the bump. This carrier was six feet deep, made of reed or wicker, and was kept in shape and supported by circular iron bands, like the hoops round a barrel, which, in this case, were inside the basket. Passengers embark by the same means. Crude and odd devices of this sort lend spice to travel.
Bahia, the oldest city in Brazil, was the next stop. At thisport no basket was used for disembarking, passengers leaving the ship by a side ladder and being taken ashore in launches. An unusual number of men seemed to board the vessel, and later, when the gong sounded for visitors to go ashore, most of them left with their pockets bulging with goods bought aboard. Pertaining to this, an amusing feature came to light—the custom officers, who had been stationed at the gangway and other parts of the ship to prevent smuggling, seemingly not noticing the difference in the girth of a man on leaving the vessel to that when he boarded her.
Sailing on the same smooth sea on which we had started from Madeira Island ten days before, Rio de Janeiro, the capital and metropolis of Brazil, was reached later.
The harbor of this city is considered the finest in the world. The noted haven is entered by a deep channel, three-quarters of a mile wide, flanked by two imposing stone mountains, rising nearly 1,300 and 1,100 feet, respectively. Tropical vegetation grows luxuriantly on the shores, and beyond a circle of high, evergreen mountains offer an unusually fascinating foreground. The harbor is sixteen miles long and from two to seven miles wide, this area being dotted with over a hundred islands, also heavily verdured with a tropical growth. One feature, however, robs Rio de Janeiro and her harbor of a scenic climax. To the left, on which side of the bay the city stands, rise low hills, which shut from view, until opposite the wharves, what otherwise would reveal a panorama of the metropolis in keeping with that of the fame of the harbor. One is at a loss to account for the absence of docks here, considering this city has a population of nearly a million inhabitants and is the commercial center of Brazil.
Before, and also after, the ship anchored in the bay, where a large number of passengers left, the deafening noise made by hack barkers and hotel runners, shouting from boats below, exceeded anything of this nature heard elsewhere. Here it was a medley of whistles on yachts, launches and similar craft, together with blasts from horns, a racket from other noise-making devices, and the raucous voices of fruit vendors, cryingtheir wares from rowboats. For a quarter of a mile about the vessel hundreds of small craft were bumping into each other, their owners cursing and shouting at those in approaching boats who sought a more advantageous place where a fare might come their way; in no place in the world, one would feel safe in saying, could there be more turmoil and confusion under similar circumstances. No one seemed to be in charge; every one was bending his every effort for a fare. Evidently a great deal of revenue would be cut off from a considerable number of the population of Rio were the government to build docks.
Having read of cholera in Rio years before would lead one to entertain a belief that he is entering an unclean city, and the great number of blacks and half-castes one sees before he gets off the ship suggests nothing to the contrary. But, when in the city proper, what a surprise one meets with. No place is better supplied with small parks than this metropolis, and public conveniences and sanitation in general, which are so essential to the physical welfare of a people, are creditable features. To be sure, the old part is of Spanish style—brick and cement houses, with narrow streets. The object in building narrow streets is to foil the sun—to keep cool—as the narrower they are the more shade is cast. One will soon notice the difference in comfort when walking between narrow or wide streets in hot climates—the narrow, shady ones will be given the preference. Only one vehicle can travel in a street, and for this reason traffic passes through one and returns by another. They are one-way streets. Two persons moving in opposite directions can just manage to pass without one of them stepping off the walk. Rio de Janeiro is the second largest city in South America, and good management of this tropical center was in evidence.
Looking down Avenue Central, one of the principal thoroughfares, composed largely of business buildings, a scene of architectural beauty is revealed rivaling any metropolis in the world. No street cars run on this avenue, but brightly painted, well designed, small motor 'buses are in use. The artistic effect reflected by the arrangement of lights and trees is in keepingin every detail with the admirable designs of the buildings on each side. A municipal theater on this street, prominent by its striking exterior ornamentation, together with handsome government buildings, add greatly to the attractiveness of Avenue Central. To an American the street view at the head not only equals the lower portion, but is enhanced, for there stands the Monroe Palace, a memorial to James Monroe, whose name is immortalized as the father of the Monroe Doctrine, serving as a fitting cap-sheaf, and at the same time infusing patriotic sentiment to the harmonious foreground and attractive environments. From Monroe Palace, which is shaded by trees growing in a beautiful park at the side, Avenue Central verges into a long boulevard, built alongside the walled harbor, fringed in places with rows of palm trees, fifty to sixty feet high; under tropical verdured hills, with parks, flowers and shade trees bordering the thoroughfare to the shore of the Atlantic Ocean.
This palm tree of Rio is the highest we have seen either of nut-bearing or non-nut-bearing species. The trunks are smooth, straight and round, free of limbs, and gradually taper to their full height, where a circle of fronds branch broadly from every side. Standing between these tropical, sentinel-like columns, high above the spectator will be seen an arch formed of long, broad leaves. As some of these double rows of palms extend for considerable distances, this light-green archway grows more enchanting as, down the pillared vista, the fringed-frond arcade gradually lowers and contracts until the trees converge into a narrow bower. The symmetrical finish to the towering palms of Rio will remain in one's mind long after other of Nature's masterpieces, of equal merit but differing in form, will have been forgotten.
American money and enterprise have added much to the modern public utilities of Rio, for the street car and lighting systems are headed by Americans. "Bond" is the name for street cars here. To raise capital to construct the system bonds were issued, and as the word bond was much used before construction began, the Brazilians, when the cars started running, called them "bonds."
The Portuguese language is used in the Brazilian republic. But what a mixed population these Brazilians are! Most of them are dark-skinned and the greater number are black. From observation, there seems to be little or no distinction between the races. Yet this race possesses a knowledge rarely displayed by others in erecting buildings suited in every respect for business purposes, and in giving them an artistic finish at the same time. Immigrants from many countries have settled in this republic during the last decade.
European customs are strongly in evidence, the most noticeable being lounging about cafés. The habit of living on the sidewalk and in the street outside of cafés is the same here as that which strikes one as being strange on his first visit to Paris and other places in Continental Europe. One often has to maneuver his way through little iron-legged tables and chairs, used for refreshments. Some of the patrons are seen sipping black coffee from cups no larger than half an eggshell; others may be found drinking vari-colored liquids, of which there is a great variety, and many will have cigarettes between their lips or between their fingers. Still one cannot fail to note the improvement these cafés are on the American saloon. There are no back door entrances to these places; no front doors closed; no curtains—everything open and above board. And, as with Europeans, seldom is a person seen intoxicated or disorderly. Prosperity is suggested by crowded cafés, for refreshments in Rio are expensive.
Women seem to have an easy time in Brazil, in the capital, at least, for men are seen looking after rooms in hotels, sweeping, dusting—doing general housework.
Two meals a day seem to be all the Brazilians desire. A cup of coffee is taken early in the morning, as the regular time for breakfast is from 11 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. Dinner is served from 5 to 7:30 o'clock in the evening.
Everything one buys in the Brazilian metropolis is expensive. Manufactures are few—almost everything is imported, and the customs duty is exorbitant. Street car fare, even, is double that charged in most large cities. Small articles costing from ten tofifteen cents in the United States cost a milrei in Rio. Very few things can be had for less than 33 cents. Soda water and other soft drinks generally cost from 9 to 12 cents.
The Portuguese money system—reis and milreis—is that of Brazil. The value of a milrei in American money is 33 cents, and a rei is equal to one-thirtieth of a cent. In financial figures the dollar mark is used to denote milreis, but is placed between the figures instead of in front—thus: 10$000. Money is on the decimal system, 1,000 reis making a milrei.
One unaccustomed to Portuguese money is apt to feel perplexed when presented with a bill for 50 cents. This is how a 50 cent dinner bill would look: 1$500. The figure 1 represents a milrei—33 cents—and the 500 is 500 reis—half a milrei—16½ cents. One hundred reis is three cents in American money. Only among the poorer class are coins of less than 100 reis in use. Paper bills are used for a milrei and larger sums. The coins are mostly of nickel.
At São Paulo, over three hundred miles from Rio, woolen and cotton mills have been established, and so far have proved a good investment. English money is represented in this industry. American money and machinery figure largely in the development of the ore mines of that large country, so with English capital erecting mills and American money opening and developing mines business development is assured. Brazil produces three-quarters of the world's annual consumption of coffee. Rubber is another staple product of this republic.
The tropical scenery about Rio adds much to the attractiveness of the capital of Brazil. High hills and mountains almost circle both the harbor and city, and from these elevated points one looks down through a dense growth of trees bearing flowers, large blooming vines, wide-leaved palms, and clumps of high, swaying bamboo—an expansive botanical garden—on to the thousands of gray houses, with their red-tiled roofs. Similar scenes and objects, attractive when viewed from less favored vistas, seen through a tropical foreground, assume an enchanted charm.
Though very little English printing is done here, a number ofgood Portuguese daily newspapers are published, the offices being equipped with linotype machines, web presses and stereotyping machinery. The wages paid workers in this trade range from $25 to $30 a week. As there is little manufacturing in Brazil, and the tariff is so exorbitant on imports, together with high dwelling rentals, $30 a week would not be considered good wages in America under such conditions.
One seldom sees a Brazilian carrying bundles in his hands—such as valises, etc. The people who make their living at that sort of work carry a strap with them, which is thrown over the shoulder. If two valises are to be borne, one is placed in front and the other at the back, each fastened to the end of the strap.
Church bells here, as in the City of Mexico, are ringing in most parts of the city all the time.
As a rule good photographs exaggerate and flatter objects, but when looking at a picture associated with Rio de Janeiro, no matter how pretty and artistic it may appear, one should not discount the picture as being overdrawn, for Rio would very likely carry away the honors if entered in a "beautiful city" exhibit.
At Santos, another coffee mart of Brazil, enterprise was in evidence when our ship drew up to a dock. This was the first dock the ship pulled alongside of since leaving Southampton, England. Santos is also the port for São Paulo. From this place we continue southward.
Twelve hundred miles south of Rio, Montevideo, Uruguay, is located at the delta of the River Plate. This city is the capital of Uruguay. Most of the ships head for the River Plate, and a great many sailing southward and through the Straits of Magellan stop at this port, allowing passengers time to look about the city. The River Plate (La Plata in Spanish) spreads out at this point to a width of a hundred miles. A great number of vessels sail up the Plate from time to time, and it ranks high in the list of waterways of the world.
A glimpse of Montevideo revealed but little difference in architecture to that of the Spanish style—brick and mortar. Most of the dwelling houses are but one story in height, theoutside steps and stairways, however, being of white marble, which gives the building a strikingly clean appearance.
More than one night in this city is required to become used to the noise made by mouth whistles before a light sleeper can rest. These are blown by the police, who keep in touch with each other by this means.
A striking feature of Montevideo to one who has been in Brazil is the large size of the Uruguayan. Deep-chested, broad-shouldered and of good height, he appears to possess double the strength of the Brazilian. While the people are of dark complexion, no blacks are seen.
The money unit of Uruguay is higher than that of any country in the world. It is known as the dollar, and its value is $1.04.
Uruguay is a republic, its principal industry being agriculture and stock raising. Flattering inducements are offered by that government to immigrants who intend to make their home there. These are in the nature of giving land to homeseekers, the government even promising to stock the farms with cattle.
How little some of us who pay but passing attention to sea commerce know of the tremendous volume of business carried over the world in vessels, and the long runs made. At Rio de Janeiro I left the ship that I sailed on from Southampton, England, and after several weeks' stay in the Brazilian capital continued my journey southward by another line, tickets being interchangeable. The ship from Rio that landed Argentine passengers at Montevideo proceeded southward to and through the Straits of Magellan, to Valparaiso, Chile; up the Pacific coast as far as Callao, the port for Lima, Peru, stopping at several places between, distributing passengers and cargo at each. From among the passengers Brazil, Uruguay, Argentine, Chile, Paraguay, Bolivia and Peru received its quota. From England to Callao six weeks' time was required to make the voyage. The manner in which these merchantmen slip in and out of bays, deep and shallow harbors, crawl up rivers and down again—into commercial nooks of every character—reminds one of the unexpected places to which the sun so often finds its way.Passengers from Great Britain seemed to be in the majority of those traveling south of the equator. A greater number of men than women are always to be found, though almost every ship carries young women who will be on their way to meet and marry their fiancés located in the interior of the South American republics.
Buenos Aires, capital of the Argentine republic, the New York of South America, is located 124 miles up the River Plate. Many entertain the opinion, gathered from newspaper accounts, that, 6,000 miles south of New York, there is a good-sized city—Buenos Aires. But what a difference there is between reading about something and seeing it! It is said of a visitor that "a look at New York will knock his eye out," and to travel through the busy waterway of the big harbor of this South American metropolis, and look through the dense thicket of masts, spars, shrouds, ropes, pennants, flags and many-colored funnels from ships that stretch for miles about the outer and inner harbors, will surely cause one's eye to bulge with astonishment. Such an influx of merchantmen visit this city at certain periods of the year that, for as long as three and four weeks, ships loll at anchor in the outer harbor before dock room can be made for unloading their cargoes. The dock system is good; and one may gather an idea of the harbor space available when he learns the River Plate is thirty-five miles wide at Buenos Aires. Up to the interior of South America ships ply for 1,000 miles on the Plate to the Bolivian border, going up loaded and sailing away to sundry parts of the world with cargoes submerging the vessels to their water lines. It seemed that every ship sailing south of the equator on the western side of the Atlantic Ocean was headed for the River Plate or for other coast ports of the Argentine.
A more intimate acquaintance with matters will reveal a Briton at the helm of those ships of industry or the hidden power behind the scene. Every passenger ship leaving a British port for the River Plate carries brain and brawn from Great Britain. English money figures prominently in the industrial advancement of the Argentine, upward of a billion dollarshaving been expended in building railways and developing the lands. The flower of Great Britain will be found engaged at farming, connected with shipping, railroads, banking, or other pursuits; and English advice on governmental legislation is often sought.
In Buenos Aires one finds a busy city of nearly a million and three-quarters of people, largely of a cosmopolitan character. Sixteen big, well-printed daily newspapers of evening and morning editions are published in this commercial center. Besides the native, or Spanish language, are those printed in the French, Italian, English, Swedish and other languages. The wages paid artisans engaged in this industry do not compare with those paid in the United States. The highest paid for newspaper work is $3.50 a day, but $2.50 is the general daily wage, paid monthly. Working time is seven and eight hours a day. On the other hand, living expenses are higher than in American cities. House rent is very high, and the price of food in ordinary restaurants is as high, and generally higher, than that charged in similar grade eating places in American cities. Anent cheap living in other countries, about which one hears so much in the United States, I have come to look upon such alleged facts as mythical, for, speaking generally, I have yet to come across them, and my unsuccessful search for these "much-cheaper" places has not been from lack of effort.
The Argentine silver dollar is about the same value as the Mexican dollar—44 cents. Another dollar is in use, however, pertaining to shipping, customs charges and government tariff of a general nature, known as the gold dollar, and is worth 96 cents. But it is the 44-cent dollar that is in general use for retail purposes, wages, etc.
The great number of street cars running through and about the city is in keeping with the large number of ships seen in the harbor. There are only two streets in the business district—and for a considerable distance beyond—on which street cars do not run. Any one who has lived in busy centers will naturally glance about when crossing streets, to see if the way is clear. But in Buenos Aires one must be on the alert for streetcars even when walking along walks between the crossings. The Spanish system of laying out a town—narrow streets—is the rule in Buenos Aires, in the older section of the city. To build street car lines in the center of the streets would shut off vehicular traffic to a great extent, as there is not room for a truck and car to pass between the car line and the curb at the same time. The car tracks, therefore, are laid at the side of the street, by which plan car and vehicular traffic have room to move together, but only in one direction. To make matters worse, a "trailer," or two cars, are in use on many of the lines. A sidewalk fender is secured to the rear platform of the front car and to the forward platform of the "trailer." This device is formed of strips of steel, bowed half-barrel shape, which extends over the walk, and is attached to prevent pedestrians from falling between the cars. The walks also are proportionately narrow, affording room for only two persons to pass at the same time. Were a person to become thoughtless or one's mind be occupied with something foreign to street traffic, while walking at the outer edge of the walk, or when stepping to one side to allow another to pass, the half-barrel shaped steel-strip fender is apt to scrape his leg. Being fearful of coming in contact with the fender at any moment when walking the streets prompts one to frequently look behind.
Ten cents (Argentine money) is the fare, equaling four cents in American money. That sum will carry a passenger from one end of a car line to the other. By reason of the narrow streets, the two-car system, and the great number of cars running on the different lines, tie-ups, turmoil and confusion result. On boarding a car, there is no telling when one will reach his destination. Improvements, however, were in progress.
Among the park squares of Buenos Aires (termed "plazas" in Latin-speaking countries), Plaza de Mayo is perhaps the most popular, and the first laid out in the Southern metropolis. This plaza is located at one side of the business center of the city, with government buildings, hotels, a cathedral, and business houses fronting the four sides. Attractive palms adorn thispretty resting place, together with trees, shrubbery, flowers all the year round, lawns and good walks. Historical memories, dear to the Argentinian, however, prove of greater interest to the populace than that wrought by the landscape gardener, as in this section of the city in early days a decisive battle was fought with Britishers. At one side of the square stands a memorial shaft that marks the place of surrender to native forces by the invaders early in the nineteenth century. Within the city limits are six parks, a number of promenades, thirty-eight squares, and many public gardens.
Avenida de Mayo is the promenade and show section of Buenos Aires. Starting at Plaza de Mayo, it extends for nearly a mile to Congreso, or Congress Hall. The Avenida is one of the two streets on which cars do not run, and is the only one of fair width in the busy center of the city. It is paved with asphalt, most of the others being paved with stone blocks. The best hotels line the Avenida, and the other buildings are of attractive appearance. Prizes are offered by the city for the best building designs, and the result of this municipal pride is frequently observed. Through the Continental custom of blocking the sidewalks in front of hotels and cafés with tables and chairs one often finds difficulty in walking. The park system of the city is creditable, and there are good boulevards in the suburbs.
Here, too, as in Rio de Janeiro, one wonders what women do to occupy their time, as men make the beds, do the dusting, look after rooms, sweep the carpets, and do general household duties one is so accustomed to seeing women perform in North America. Neither is there any chance for a woman to earn her living working in eating places, as men seem to have made that source of livelihood a "closed shop" to women.
Plaza de Mayo(top) andAvenida de Mayo(bottom).Buenos Aires, Argentine.
Plaza de Mayo(top) andAvenida de Mayo(bottom).Buenos Aires, Argentine.
The clumsy way the Argentinian hitches horses to a cart strikes one as odd. Carts, instead of trucks, are mostly in use. Often three or four horses will be attached to a cart—one horse between the shafts, and one hitched to the cart on each side of the shaft horse. The horse in the lead will precede the second horse by a space of from three to five feet, and the secondhorse will be in advance of the shaft horse the same distance. How the animals can see is a puzzle, for a heavy leather fringe reaches from the top of the horse's head to the nose.
To see men embracing each other, with radiant faces, strikes one from the North as an unusual custom. While Americans greet with a handshake, Argentinians embrace.
A novel way to keep "park residents" from occupying seats in some of the park squares is amusing. The park workers keep moving the seats from shade to sun, and in the evening and on cloudy days the "never-works" are told to "move on." But the idlers enjoy sweet revenge from the fact that no one else has a chance to sit in the shade in the daytime.
It is hard on one who has been used to three meals a day to practice the principle of the old adage, "When in Rome, do as the Romans do," for only two meals a day are served. Of course, one gets coffee and rolls for breakfast, but more than that brief menu is unknown to the Argentinian. The noontime meal is called breakfast, and dinner is served about 7 o'clock.
Olives, potato chips, peanuts and cigarettes are accessories that go with refreshments at the "sidewalk dining-rooms" in Buenos Aires. People may be seen for hours taking sips of liquid from small glasses, then a potato chip will be snapped in two parts; next a few puffs of a cigarette; another sip; a peanut shell is then cracked and a kernel eaten; another sip of liquid; next an olive; more cigarette puffs, and so on.
Churches and church holidays being numerous, banks are closed on these occasions for four or five days. What is known as "the American Church" attracts many of the English-speaking people of that city.
In addition to the Argentine being a grain and cattle country, fruit trees and grapevines bear heavy yields. Fig and peach trees, which are numerous, yield abundant good fruit, and some bunches of grapes will half fill a water bucket.
Gentility is denoted in the Argentine by a long little fingernail. A fingernail could not grow from one to two inches long on the hand of one engaged in daily toil, for it would break off.Hence a man with a long fingernail is included in the list of "retired" citizens.
The dwelling houses and buildings of all sorts are substantially built. Brick is generally used, and this is covered with several inches of cement. A courtyard is a feature of all buildings, with a veranda around, and more rooms open on the court than on the street. Strong iron bars protect the windows in a great many instances, while the street doors are very heavy and the locks big and strong. Most of the dwelling houses are one and two stories in height, but some of the hotel and business buildings are from three to seven stories high. The higher buildings are of steel frame construction, which is known as "the American system."
One will find splendid stores, with goods attractively displayed in large, wide windows. Church buildings are numerous, and some of the government buildings large and imposing. Several of the newspapers are large, newsy and well printed. Linotype machines, web presses—all the modern machinery in use in the North—will be found in the emporium of South America.
Portuguese is the language of Brazil, Spanish of the Argentine, and any one going to these countries to transact business without first acquiring an inkling of these languages will find himself at a great disadvantage. The foreigner who can speak both languages will succeed much better than the person who sticks to his native tongue.
The pickpocket of Buenos Aires is said to be as deft at his trade as are his clever colleagues in the City of Mexico. The great number of thieves here may be the reason for the presence of bars in front of windows, heavy doors and strong locks on buildings.
I had work offered to me at my trade in that city, but one who had been used to receiving $5 a day does not relish working for $3 a day for the same duties. Besides, just then the surface of my funds had been scarcely scratched.
I stopped at a boarding house, paying $2 a day for my keep, occupying a small room next to the roof, with the only windowa little larger than the port hole of a ship. It behooved one to be promptly in his seat at the table at mealtime, in order to prevent remonstrance that would justifiably be made by the inner man until the next meal if the rules of strict punctuality were not conformed to.
One notices an improvement in the condition of the working people in both Rio de Janeiro and Buenos Aires over that seen in Lisbon. Poverty is not a feature of either city, more particularly in Buenos Aires.
My fare from New York to Buenos Aires was $150, and the distance traveled was 9,852 miles. From New York direct to Buenos Aires is some 6,000 miles, and the fare, third-class, $90, first-class, $240, there being no second-class rate. Third-class travel is generally unsatisfactory, and a first-class ticket would have cost more than I cared to spend on the first leg of my journey. It was a 26-day sail from Southampton to Buenos Aires.
From Buenos Aires direct across to Capetown, South Africa, is 3,600 miles; by way of Madeira 9,500 miles, and second-class fare $250. This large sum of money for a ticket set me inquiring if there was no other way to get to South Africa without traveling nearly half the distance around the world. A tramp ship going to Asia and stopping at Durban, South Africa, for bunker coal was one's only hope of avoiding the long and tedious journey by way of Madeira and the big expense. Four different captains who had received orders to sail to India did not want to take a passenger with them, giving as their reason that "it was against the Act" for tramp ships to carry travelers. The fifth captain seen, however, agreed to take me across to Durban for $50. Here was a saving of $200.
That being my first introduction to tramp ship travel, I faced the voyage with some mistrust, as merchantmen, as a rule, are slow, are not equipped with wireless telegraphy appliances, and one does not know what may happen when sailing on the high seas. But the captain had a good face, which inspired me with confidence.
"Meet me at the British Consul's office to-morrow morning at 10 o'clock," the captain instructed, "for you'll have to shipas an 'A. B.' (able-bodied seaman), as the 'Act' does not allow us to carry passengers." "Aye, aye, sir," in sailor style, was my answer to his instructions.
"How much are you going to pay this man?" asked the consul. "Ten shillings ($2.40) a month," answered the captain. "A pretty cheap 'A. B.'" sagely remarked the consul.
"The ship is the one with a red funnel, having a yellow circle around it close to the top.Bertha Clayis her name. Be aboard at 3 o'clock at the latest, as we shall sail between 3 and 4," was the final instruction by the captain.
"You found her all right?" the skipper remarked, when he had come aboard his ship. A cargo of coal had just been unloaded, and the dust was an inch deep on the deck.
Later a long blast from the whistle was blown, and in a short time a rope from a tug had been fastened to theBertha Clay, when she was slowly drawn from the dock into the narrow channel, which was solidly walled by ships. We had started for "Darkest Africa."
The evening sun was sinking fast as we were being towed from the inner harbor of the Argentine metropolis to the broad expanse of gray-colored water of the River Plate.
Berths were short on theBertha Clay, as the skipper had informed me before I had boarded his ship I would have to sleep in the chart room. Charts and other navigating paraphernalia were kept in this room, and the wheel house was on top of the chart room roof. "Sleep on the couch to-night," instructed the captain, "and to-morrow I'll try to have a berth put up for you, which will be more restful."
Next morning found the tramp ship at sea, and behind, in the distance, the panorama of Montevideo, built on a hillside, was kept in view till lost to sight. "If you prefer land to sea view," the captain remarked later, "take a good look yonder, for, with the exception of a small, uninhabited island 1,200 miles to the east, it is the last land we shall see until we reach the South African coast. That is Lobos Island, off the Uruguayan coast, at which we are looking, on which large numbers of seal assemble."
For six days out from the Plate the weather was summer-like, and these were pleasantly spent sailing over a smooth sea. Talent is generally found among sailors, and during the evening some of the crew would sing, others dance, or boxing bouts would take place; wrestling matches also were listed among the means of entertainment. Then the weather changed for the worse, and evening sports were discontinued.
The captain had brought with him eight sheep and a couple of dozen live chickens, as this ship carried no ice. A sheep was killed each week, and we had chicken twice weekly, so, between the sheep and the chickens, we had fresh meat three times a week.
"Keep a look out for Gough Island," suggested the captain to his first officer, "for it should be in sight by four o'clock." At 4:15 the mate, opening the door, reported, "Land port abeam, sir!" The island proved to be a small, rocky and uninhabited sea "oasis." "No more land until we reach Africa," said the skipper.
The weather had grown stormy, the sea rough, and theBertha Claywas rolling badly. She pitched, tossed and rolled so much, in fact, that the "A. B." had "callouses" on his hips through being slammed back and forth against the sides of his bunk in the chart room.
Masters of ships usually have an easy time at sea. After they have left a port, the next few days are occupied in straightening their accounts. From then on, if the weather be at all favorable, little work is done save at noontime, when the sun is sighted, by which means alone the course is maintained. Each officer has a sextant, and from two to four of these are pointed sunward from ten to fifteen minutes before the orb has reached the zenith.
A captain of a tramp ship is generally sent from port to port by cable from the owners to their agent. After the cargo has been unloaded, he may remain in a port for days, or even weeks, waiting for orders to sail; but sometimes he has little idea to what part of the world he may be directed to go. The cable directions may read "Capetown." He heads his ship for that port, but does not know whence he will be sent until given instructions by the company's agent on arrival.
The salary paid some sea captains is small, compared to the responsibility assumed. English and other European shippers pay masters of tramp ships from $100 to $130 a month, while captains of American ships receive double that sum. Perquisites, however, may come to a skipper in connection with his calling. Coal firms generally give the master of a ship a commission on fuel supplied, and chandlers maintain the same custom when furnishing stores.
Sea charts with which captains are furnished are marvels of exactness to a landsman, shoals, rocks, lights, jutting points ofland, sea currents and courses being as clearly marked as are rivers, turnpikes and railways on land maps. With a good navigator there is little danger of getting off the course if the sky be clear at noontime. It is in cloudy periods, when officers cannot get their bearings from the sun, that danger may occur.
Rainy weather and clear days are the same to a sailor aboard merchantmen. Though sailors on a tramp ship rest on Sunday, firemen and officers have no day off. Chinese, Arabs and Indians, the latter called "lascars," form the crew of a large number of British ships. From $12 to $16 a month were the wages then paid. On American ships white sailors receive $40 a month.
Two hundred miles a day was all theBertha Claywas traveling. Her smoke funnel was white with salt from the waves of the sea dashing against it. Some of the officers gathered in the little saloon every evening, when the hours were whiled away until bedtime by indoor amusements.
Sea birds of the Southland are different from those that accompany ships above the equator. No traveler who has the noble albatross as a companion can refrain from devoting hours and hours of time during a voyage to watching and admiring the smooth, graceful movements of this large bird. Sometimes as many as a hundred of these handsome soarers may be seen encircling the ship for as long as an hour at a time, seldom flapping their wings. In far southern waters the albatross generally joins an outgoing vessel from 200 to 400 miles from shore, and is not seen when a ship is the same distance from land at the other side of the ocean, although companions for weeks before. Its color is generally gray and white, but some are snow white, and occasionally brown-colored ones are seen with the others. These birds are as large as a swan, some measuring twelve feet from wingtip to wingtip. But many a sailor has lost his life when falling from a vessel in parts of the sea inhabited by the albatross. The great bird will pounce on anything it sees in the water, and, being so strong, the beak will penetrate the skull of a person at the first attack. Navigators say that it will not live during transit across the equator.The mollemoke is another companion sailors have with them when traveling south of the equator. This bird, while not so large, resembles the larger specie both in poise and color, and also mingles with the albatross during a voyage. Feeding on garbage thrown from the ship seemed to be the chief attraction to the fowl. A very pretty sea bird seen in far southern waters is the Cape pigeon. The pigeon is as large as a sea-gull, but in color is like the guinea fowl—spotted white and black—but of much brighter color. The snowbird is another companion that follows a ship in the southern seas, but only in sections where the weather has become chilly. The petrel is also found in these parts, and still another, a small, dark colored bird, no larger than a swallow, appears in large numbers at intervals. Sailors call these Mother Carey's chickens. All these fowl are one's unfettered companions while traveling through watery Southland, save an occasional whale. Sea-gulls do not appear.
It was eighteen days since we sailed from Buenos Aires, and twelve of these had been stormy. The "A. B." was near the captain while he studied the chart, at 9 o'clock one evening, when the mate came into the chart room. "Mr. Jones," said the captain to the first officer, "keep a sharp lookout, as we should see the Cape of Good Hope light by 10 o'clock, or thereabouts." "Aye, aye, sir," he replied, as he passed out, and then scaled the ladder to the bridge. The sea had calmed as we neared the African coast. Less than an hour later the skipper and the "A. B." were chatting, when the door opened. The mate, putting his head between the door and jamb, in sea manner, announced: "Flash light port abeam, sir!" It was the Cape of Good Hope light. We had reached another continent—the African.
For five more days we sailed in sight of the green, treeless hills of South Africa, using glasses frequently, as may be imagined, eager to see houses, cattle and grain fields. Finally we came in sight of the Bluff, the beacon of Port Natal. Soon we were opposite the entrance channel to the harbor, when anchor was cast. Shortly after a harbor boat was seen coming throughthe channel. Later a rowboat, manned by Zulus, headed toward theBertha Clay, in which was a white man dressed in a white suit. The captain shouted to the man in white, asking if we could get into the harbor before night. It was then nearly sunset. The answer from the rowboat was, "I'm coming." This was the skipper's first trip to a country where white clothes were worn, and he mistook the man in the rowboat to be the port doctor. One unfamiliar with customs in that part of South Africa—or, in fact, anywhere—would never dream of seeing a grizzled sea pilot dressed in an immaculate white suit of clothes. It proved to be the man who was to steer our ship safely to harbor. "All well?" he inquired—the usual salute—when his rowboat had reached speaking distance of the tramp ship. "All well," replied the master of theBertha Clay. When the pilot had drawn alongside our vessel, he began to wriggle up the rope ladder at the side of the ship, the usual means of boarding and disembarking under such circumstances.
We anchored in the harbor as twilight was hastily changing to darkness. "Supper is ready," announced the steward when the anchor chain was silenced. As ship food had no charm for the "A. B." when land food was available, he hurriedly made steps for the ladder at the side. This settled matters concerning eating supper aboard ship that evening, as the captain shouted, "Wait." Soon the skipper also started down the ladder, and the master of theBertha Clayand his passenger had dinner ashore.
We had stepped foot on Leg Two.
The captain wished the "A. B." to return to the ship and sleep in his recently vacated bunk in the chart room that night—"the last night," as he put it—but my feeling of relief at the thought of not having longer to occupy that "cabin," in which the bedclothing had often been made damp through waves dashing against and over the ship, together with several inches of water at times covering the floor, might be compared to those that one would experience on leaving a "house of trouble."
"You'll have to come to the port office in the morning andget paid off and discharged," remarked the captain, after we had finished eating the best meal we had had for nearly a month. Meeting at the time designated, the formality of paying off was gone through with, in accordance with maritime law. The "A. B." was handed $2.40 for his "work" during the voyage, but the money did not reach his pockets, as it was handed back to the genial skipper. The provisions of the "Act" had been complied with—in name.
TheBertha Clay, with her bunkers full of coal, left the following day for Cochin-China—6,000 miles further east—thirty days' more sailing.
"Sixty cents a day" (the minimum legal charge for a person's food on English ships) "is all it will cost you if you will come with us," inducingly spoke the captain to his discharged "able seaman," while shaking hands warmly, a short time before theBertha Claysailed out of the harbor. The skipper's generous offer was declined.
The passenger left behind sought the highest point of the seashore to watch the tramp ship sail on her initial stretch to Asia. She dipped her nose in the sea and wobbled and pitched as she had done for twenty-three days during her former voyage. It was not long before only an outline of the hulk was in view. Then that disappeared altogether, when all that remained in sight was the smoke funnel. Soon that also had faded to but a speck, and a short time later theBertha Claybecame hidden in a hazy horizon.
With a population of a hundred thousand, Durban is the chief seaport of South Africa. Located on the Indian Ocean, it is known also as Port Natal. Among the inhabitants, colored people of varied races comprise two-thirds of the population. With the native black there is the Indian, or Hindu, Arabs, Malays and half-castes from islands located near the East African coast. The phrase "Darkest Africa" is even more emphasized by the presence of the dark races that are not natives of the country.
Untidiness and unsanitary conditions invariably prevail where black races are in the majority, especially so where the percentage is three to one white person; but a pleasant surprise is met with here in this respect, as few cities anywhere surpass Durban in cleanliness, whether composed entirely of white people or a predominating number of blacks. Almost the whole white population is British.
To the east and south, as one comes through a channel from the sea to the harbor, a ridge of land known as the Bluff, thickly verdured with low trees and wild flowers, offers such an inviting setting to a visitor that one forms a favorable opinion of Durban before he has stepped off a ship. That foreground is as green in the winter months as during the summer, for it is summertime in Durban the year round. After having passed through the channel into the bay, the harbor is seen landlocked on one side by the city, and on the other side and end by the evergreen Bluff and more verdure. It is Durban's splendid harbor, reasonable port dues, up-to-date facilities for coaling ships, and splendid docks that has gained for her the title of premier seaport of the South Indian Ocean. Her modern maritime facilities are the result of energy by the Durbanbusiness man more than to natural advantages, for the entrance channel had to be dug out and the harbor dredged.
The business houses are built of brick, cement and stone, some of them being seven stories high. The stores are large, of fine appearance, with attractive windows. No place of Durban's size can boast of better buildings or better stores.
One of the largest and best built structures to be found south of the equator is the Durban Town Hall. This building, of brick and cement, is a city block in size and three stories in height. The scope of this hall may be understood when it is mentioned that under its roof is contained a public museum, an art gallery, public library, theater, councilors' chambers, besides offices for the city officials. The building is not only large and imposing, but the architects have succeeded in giving the structure an artistic finish. The Town Hall of to-day should meet the requirements of the Durban Corporation centuries hence, and would be a credit to a city of a million inhabitants.
A good bathing beach and a well-laid-out and well-appointed park do not, as a rule, go together, but one finds this dual comfort at this part of the Indian Ocean. Scattered about the terraced lawn have been built substantial kiosks and pagodas, with thatched roofs, which lend to the surroundings a decidedly Oriental air. These have been provided with comfortable seats, and, with the soft breezes nearly always coming from the Indian Ocean, enviable restfulness is assured to even nervous wrecks. Then stone walls, with alcoves built in to add to the seating capacity of the park, together with flowering vines creeping up and over and then drooping, form a means of shelter and rest, adding more attractiveness to the surroundings. Above the beach and park are splendid hotels, some without doors, and all with wide, inviting verandas.
Sharks—man-eaters—are so numerous along the Natal coast that the bathing enclosure is closely studded with iron rods to prevent the voracious sea beasts from mangling and killing bathers, as would happen were there no means provided to keep the sharks away from the holiday-maker.
The Berea is a residential section of Durban, and for landscapeand floral effect is a notable feature. On a range of hills rising several hundred feet, overlooking the business portion of the city and the Indian Ocean, many Durbanites live in broad-verandaed homes, shaded with semi-tropical flowering trees, perpetually blooming plants, vines growing so luxuriantly that the porches, and often the sides, of the houses are shut in by a green and floral portière, as it were. Added to this attractiveness are various species of palms and clusters of giant and Japanese bamboo. Some of the flowered hedges enclosing these building plots are so gorgeous in rich color and shape as to make a Solomon green with envy.
The flambeau tree, indigenous to the Island of Mauritius—"the flower garden tree," it may be termed—is conspicuous on the Berea, both as to numbers and floral beauty. This tree, with fern-shaped leaf, does not grow over twenty-five feet in height, but it is of a spreading nature, its shade in some instances measuring fifty feet across—twice its height. It is in flower about a month, from the middle of December to the middle of January—Junetime south of the equator. The color of the flower is a bright red, as large and the shape of a sewing thimble, and grows in clusters of eight and ten in number. When in bloom, this bright red aerial garden may be seen from a distance of a mile, so the reader can picture what a gorgeous floral effect is displayed when hundreds of these handsome trees are in flower at the same time.
The rosebush seemed to be the only plant of the nature of bush or tree that overrides lines, climates and seas. It is no doubt the most cosmopolitan plant that grows, and is to be seen in about the same beauty and diffuses its fragrance in the same degree in nearly all parts of the world. All the trees seen growing south of the equator appeared foreign to those growing in the United States.
The Christ thorn—said to be the same as the one that pierced the brow of the Savior on Mount Calvary—grows abundantly in Natal. In some instances the bush is used for hedge fences, and when allowed to grow to a height of from two to four feet it makes a spiky obstruction, as the prongs arean inch in length, grow numerous on the stock, little thicker than a knitting needle, and are almost as sharp as a sewing needle. The thorn, which is of a creeping nature, like a grapevine, is more generally used as a border for a flower pot, however. As its name naturally calls up memories of the deep-stained crime of nearly 2,000 years ago, one scrutinizes it closely. The Christ is a flowering thorn, and the flower is red, not larger than a wild strawberry's. These grow in a group from one stem, each cluster numbering from two to ten flowers—always even—two, four, six, eight and ten—never in odd numbers.
Some of the trees growing here bud and bloom twice a year. These interesting changes do not take place in the same way that nature does her work in the colder climates—by the leaves falling off in the fall of the year and the buds coming in the spring. With these trees the old leaf remains until forced off the limb by the new bud. About six weeks' time is required for nature to change from the old to the new. During this period new buds bulge from the tips of the limbs, when the old leaf will fall to the ground. This change is gradually progressing, until sections of the tree offer a clean, fresh, bright, green-leafed appearance, while on other parts the dull-green, dust-soiled leaf offers a striking contrast. Between the months of February and March and August and September the new leaf replaces the old.
There is really little timber in South Africa, as the trees grow low and are of a spreading character. Naturally, the shade cast by them is much wider than that afforded by high trees. Where brush grows, it is found to be a dense thicket or jungle, in which monkeys disport themselves at will, and is often the home of the python also, a reptile frequently seen along the Natal coast. Shooting monkeys in the brush is a common amusement.
Outside the city are banana plantations, and sometimes patches of corn and pumpkins. In order to prevent crops from being partly eaten by monkeys, laborers are out in the fields at daylight setting traps to catch the "missing links" or shooting them. The monkeys are very destructive to crops growingin fields bordered by bushy land. A monkey's gluttony often renders his cunning of no avail, and for that trait he becomes an easy prey. Calabashes grow everywhere in South Africa, and it is by this vegetable the monkey is generally trapped. The calabash is dug out, or partly so, and cornmeal, calabash seeds and other monkey edibles are put inside and then made fast. A small hole, just large enough for a monkey to wriggle his supple fingers in and contracted paw through, is made in the vegetable. When no one is about, the monkey makes a start for the calabash trap and is soon eager to find out what is inside. He then begins working his paw through the opening, and when he has reached the cornmeal, seeds and other bait he grabs a handful. It is then that his gluttony proves his downfall. The opening that admitted his empty paw is too small to allow his clenched fist to be withdrawn, so he pulls and tugs for hours to get his paw through the hole, but will not let go of the food even while being put to death by his captors.
"Are there any automobiles in South Africa?" asked a friend in a letter. Perhaps others will ask a similar question concerning the presence of other modern appliances in a far-off part of the world. One will not meet with elevated railroads, tunnels under wide rivers, underground railway systems, or buildings from twenty to fifty stories in height, for the reason that the cities of South Africa are not large enough to require these modern public utilities; but one will meet with modern electric light systems, telephone, telegraph and wireless telegraphy systems, automobiles, motorcycles, motor trucks, most up-to-date fire-fighting apparatus, modern farm machinery, typesetting machines, web presses—all the modern machinery and appliances with which cities of the same size in the North are equipped will be found in the cities of the far Southland.
White drill clothes are worn by two-thirds of the men of Durban; also white shoes and a white, light-weight helmet. A suit costs from $2.50 to $6, and a wardrobe contains from three to half a dozen. In addition to the drill, a majority of mechanics and clerks can vary their apparel by wearing woolen, flannel and even evening-dress suits. Women also generallyadhere to white clothes and often a helmet similar to the style worn by men, together with white shoes, white hand-bag, and white parasol.
The standard of intelligence of the people is high. A majority in the coast cities are from the United Kingdom. Scotch and English are the more numerous, the Irish and Welsh being less in evidence. Among a group of men, the colonials (white persons born in South Africa of British parents) are nearly always in the minority.
It is only in very small towns in South Africa where a public library would not be open to all who wished to take advantage of its benefits. Durban is well supplied with public schools, a technical school open for both day and night classes; Y. M. C. A., Y. W. C. A. institutions, splendid library, art gallery, museum; is thickly spired and turreted with good church buildings; and, for recreation, there is a promenade, fringed with beautiful palms and shady trees, with seats under them, for a mile on one side, and the bay on the other; parks and sports grounds scattered throughout the city; a botanical garden and a zoological park. All these institutions of education, religion and recreation are to be found 10,000 miles from America, on the fringe of "Darkest Africa."
In order that the reader may clearly distinguish between white and black, a note of the distinctive terms in use here might not be out of place. A "native" is a kafir or negro; a "colonial" is one born in South Africa of white parents, generally applied to English-speaking people; Dutch means a Boer, and Boer means Dutch; the word "Africander" also means Dutch. But for all whites—Dutch, colonial, and foreign-born—the word "European" is used to designate the white from the black. The word "white" is seldom used. Indian coolie, or Indian, is a native of India, or of Indian parentage. "Colored" means a person of Malay and white blood. Half-castes are of negro and white blood. A "boy" means a kafir servant or a laborer. A native servant 40 years of age would be called a "boy."
House servants in South Africa are native boys, and Indianwomen and girls are often employed as nurses. Occasionally one sees a native woman looking after children; but the native boy—the "umfaan," as he is called in the Zulu language—from 10 to 18 years of age, is the standby as a house servant in the Province of Natal. The houseboy wears clothes that denote his occupation, and generally presents a neat appearance. His wage varies from $2 to $5 a month. Most of the umfaans make good servants, particularly the Zulu boys. Unlike his American brother, he is an early riser.
"Umfaan peril—protection for the children"—is the light in which a great many of the Europeans see their dependency on the umfaan as the servant. While Indian women and some native women look after the children, more umfaans will be seen wheeling baby carriages than black maids. Such a thing as a European servant is almost unheard of in South Africa. So, how to have the children looked after by other than black male servants is a burning question in the province. Conventions are held regularly at the instance of women's children protection societies, leagues and similar organizations, at which the ablest minds of the country deal with the "umfaan peril." But no solution has yet been found to check the degradation that follows in the wake of such a system of taking care of children. Men and women who have made a study of the "peril," and who are familiar with customs, are loth to place all the blame for undesirable conditions on the native, nevertheless. A large number of native girls are not allowed by their parents to come to the cities or towns as servants. While they live in the kraal on the veld no concern is felt for the future of the girls; but so soon as they leave the native hut to go into service in the towns their future is in doubt. So, with no native girls to be had as servants, the umfaan's services for the present are indispensable.
South Africa has proved an Arcadia for a great number of poor girls. Mill and shop girls of Great Britain who had dreamed of being the wife of a man dressed in white clothes from feet to head, of living in a wide verandaed house, trellised all around, with flowering vines climbing all about theporch, with the picture varied by the hum of bees or humming birds; with palms, exotics and flowers growing about the house and yard; with bearing banana plants, mango trees and rows of luscious pineapples growing in the yard—all encompassed by a flowering hedge of big, bright hibiscus bush; with a foreground of a steepled city and a broad blue ocean, and a background of spreading fern-leafed trees emblazoned with scarlet and lavender-colored flowers; with an ayah (Indian maid) to be at her beck and call and a black boy to do the housework and bring her breakfast to her room; to be drawn from her home to the shopping center of the city and back by a big and swift Zulu ricksha puller, with long cow horns secured to each side of his head—that dream has come true to thousands of poor girls who have married in this section of South Africa.
Most wives from Great Britain, however, prove white elephants to men living in the colonies. They are eternally going "home," as the British Isles are termed, and the husband's nose is "kept on the grindstone" to meet the expense required. The home "holiday" is seldom less than six months, and is frequently eighteen months, during which period the husband is maintaining two homes—the one in the colony and sending money to Great Britain to meet the expense of his family in that country. On the other hand, the climate of Southern Natal and Zululand is hard on the white woman. The easy life they live, and their fascinating surroundings, are not reflected in face or in physique. It is unusual to see a buxom, rosy-cheeked woman or girl in Durban. The face is white and features lifeless. The climate in that part of South Africa seems to not only make them jaded, but crow's-feet and deeper wrinkles mark the faces of most women at a period in life when the features should be free of these ageing signs. The children suffer from the climate to the same degree as the women, most of them having thin bodies, thin arms, thin blood and spindled legs. Men also are affected by the climate, but not to the same degree as women and children. Illustrative of the size of men in Southern Natal, it may be noted that ready made suits of clothes of size 40 and over are not kept in stock by merchants,as there is no call for them; few men attain that girth. It is doubtful also if one could find a collar of size 17.
The horse of Natal is a hungry-looking beast. This is owing to the grass generally being of a wiry nature, which the animal cannot digest, and a better quality, if eaten when dew is on it, proves very injurious to the system. Smoldering fires are lit in stables in the evening so that the smoke will keep mosquitoes from the premises. These insects are said to inject disease germs into any horse they bite. Large, vicious flies prove another menace to horses. The bite of these flies often draws blood, and as a result white hairs grow from the bitten parts. So many of these white hair spots appear on the bodies of black and bay horses that they often give a beast the appearance of being an iron-gray color. In certain sections of the Province of Natal horses cannot live.
Favored with a delightful climate and a good bathing beach, Durban is a noted winter resort in that part of the world. The weather during the "season"—from May to October—is like the American Indian summer save for the absence of Jack Frost. At this time of year people from Johannesburg and other sections of the high veld come in large numbers to this point of the coast to spend their vacations. Circuses also pay their annual visits; hotel-keepers raise prices; rooming house proprietors double rates; fakirs are numerous; talented tramps—street singers—are heard in front of hotels, looking for any spare change that may come from verandas and windows; Zulu ricksha pullers become ambitious for an extra "holiday" fare—every one tries to get rich off the visitor, and the air is charged with music, merriment and life at every turn.
In the way of amusement, moving pictures predominate, although theatrical people of world reputation frequently tour South Africa. Concerts in the Town Hall Sunday evenings, held under municipal auspices, are a popular form of entertainment, these being in charge of the borough organist, a city official. Military bands in the gala season entertain the populace morning, afternoon and evening at the Beach and in parks. Besides these attractions, boating, fishing, horse racing, militarysports tournaments, and the general athletic sports figure largely in the life of the place.
Dwellings are nearly always at a premium, these renting for from $15 to $35 a month; but few houses are available for the lesser sum. The standard of living may be gauged by these charges, as people receiving small salaries could not pay high rentals. The wages of clerks, salesmen and mechanics range from $65 to $100 a month. In many Durban homes will be found a piano, a phonograph, good furniture, often a good collection of horns and skins, pictures—the home of no workingman of any country could be better furnished than the Durban breadwinner's.
"Did you attend the funeral yesterday?" was asked of a lady whose relative had been buried the day before. "Oh, no!" she answered, much surprised at the question; "only men attend funerals." The absence of women at subsequent burials proved this to be the custom here. A body must be put under ground within 24 hours after death. Were a person to die at 7 o'clock in the morning, the burial would take place during the day. When information has been given that a person has died, it is understood that the funeral will take place in a few hours.
One making a visit to the black belts would use good judgment were he to leave behind the word "woman" when applied to white women. "Woman" in these countries is used only when speaking of black or colored persons. "Lady" is always used when referring to a white woman. One will find a similar distinction in vogue in the negro sections of the United States.
"Toff" is an English term used to denote a good dresser—a sort of dandy. As most of the clothes worn by men are tailor-made, a great many "toffs" may be seen in Durban. The cheapest suit one can have made costs $22, but from $25 to $40 is the general price.
Natal, unlike the other provinces of South Africa, has always been English, particularly the coast section, which accounts for few manufacturers being in evidence from other countries. Butamong American products are shoes, sewing machines and illuminating oil. Some powerful locomotives in use are of American manufacture and are imported chiefly to pull trains up heavy grades. The cooking stove in general use here is the kerosene oil sort, most of them of American make. In recent years, exports from the United States to the sub-continent (as South Africa is often termed) have increased to the creditable figures of 35 to 40 per cent.
"Will you please look at the fireless stove?" a saleslady asked, as a group of women passed a "kitchen" stall in a fair ground on a provincial fair day. Turning about, there was a dish of baked beans, seldom seen away from America; an apple pie, an article of food as scarce in foreign parts as hens' teeth; a roast chicken, soda biscuits (called scones in British territory) and baked potatoes. The whole outfit had America stamped on it very strongly. All the women stopped to witness the fireless stove "demonstration." "Where's the fire?" asked one of the women. Then the "demonstration" began, both in action and word. Her auditors looked with staring eyes and open-mouth as the agent showed them and explained its working.
Comparatively few Americans live in the Province of Natal, as at a luncheon given by the American Consul's wife to her countrymen "a table held us all"—thirty being present. Invitations had been sent to a larger number, but as some of these were missionaries located in remote places of the country all did not attend. The luncheon was served on a Fourth of July, and what a pleasant gathering it proved to be. Some of those present had been away from their native country as long as forty years. Pleasant chats, speeches, toasts—the season of good fellowship that prevailed at that Fourth of July gathering, when we were all 10,000 miles from home, will remain among the longest cherished memories that those present will carry with them through life.