Typescript copy of diary entries of Percy Wellesley Chapman, 1 July 1915 to 30 June 1916 - Part 1

1st July, 1915.
I don't think I could have a better day than
this on which to commence my diary, the day after we
have left Sydney. It is a most beautiful day. Far away
on our right the land is bathed in a thin blue mist - it
is the coast of Victoria and looks from here rather
mountainous, just a few fleecy clouds are drifting over the
hills but they confine their wanderings to the land
and to sea not a cloud can be seen and there is hardly
any breeze. A few molly-hawks and gulls are following in
our wake; the molly-hawks circle all round us, sometimes
gliding all round us so close to the water's edge that
the tip of their wings meet it, and without ever seeming to
flap their wings they float up again just over our heads
so close that you feel you would like to stroke their
white fluffy breasts. We seem to be making out to sea,
the coast is getting farther and farther away, behind us
the hills are still a little rugged in appearance, but
out on our right (I just asked a fellow whether the right
side was to port or starboard but he said he didn't know -
I expect I shall know the ins and outs of a ship before
I have finished this voyage 'though), they fade into a
thin blue veil so it is very hard to distinguish what is
land and what is cloud. The occupants of our table are
not changed, our tent is still together, but as there were
not enough of us (fourteen go to each table) I asked five
others to join. Ted is next to me and his hammock is
also next mine. We have jolly good tuck compared to that
in camp, the ingredients are not much different but it is
well served and very clean, that is, of course, for a
troop ship. We have to make one plate do us for meat,
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soup and pudding, but the meat, soup and pudding are
very good. There are only about a hundred and twenty of
us on board other than the crew, they are Lascars, funny
little weedy beggars with white teeth and some with
slanting eyes. The boss of these fellows looks like
one of Rider Haggard's characters, he has the most
slanting eyes of them all. They remind me of those old
Egyptian carvings.
July 3rd.
Two days have passed since that beautiful evening
I spent on deck writing. The present time is Saturday
night: a gramophone is squeaking out its dismal tones.
Gramophones can be dismal sometimes you know, especially
when it is a gift gramophone and is kept going night and
day. Something went wrong with one of the piston rods
yesterday, so we had to put into Melbourne to have it
fixed,and as a consequence Captain Stucky very kindly
took us on a route march pleasure seeking through
Melbourne. Of course we only had about an afternoon to
do the place in so our inspection was rather fleeting, but most
of us came to the conclusion that it could not be compared
with Sydney. There are some fine buildings and
the streets are nice and wide and the little cable trams
don't make any noise, but I'd rather have Sydney. Whenever

Sydney is mentioned in comparison we generally cite
our harbour. Well, it's the harbour makes the place.
When we came away I looked behind to see the sun setting
somewhere over the middle harbour, and I honestly thought
I had never seen anything more beautiful. Perhaps the
fact that Sydney is home makes some difference but
Melbourne seems so deserted, there were hardly any
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people in the streets and the trains seem small and tram-like.
There seems no bustle either for business or
pleasure down here. We have narrow streets in Sydney but
they are always full.
Sunday afternoon.
Well, we are at Melbourne still, but our stay is
drawing to a close. Sometime in the small hours of the
morning I believe we sail. We had a church parade this
morning to St. Luke's, South Melbourne. It was purely
voluntary so the whole troup did not go. Do you know
I think we are very lucky, only for the accident to the
piston rod we would not have come here at all. Did I tell
you we had dinner yesterday at the Crystal Cafė, and
afterwards, while the troops were having an afternoon
smoke in a park, five of us took a look at an exhibition
building and the Aquarium. Sydney has not an Aquarium
like Melbourne. The seals were the special attraction,
one big old chap in particular, who barked his authority
and seemed boss of the lot. We had to rush through
and just as we were about to inspect a gallery of pictures
the sargeant and a corporal came and took possession of
us. It appears that while we were enjoying ourselves and
investigating the mysteries of the exhibition building,
the bugle had sounded the Fall-in in the Park and our
'presence being noted absent" a search party set out to
find the deserters. We visited the Public Library then,
and inspected sundry pictures but I can't describe what I
saw - soldiers are not always very intellectual and our
visits were of the real tourist kind, just long enough to
say we had been there. But I must tell you about going
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to Church. We fell in about ten o'clock and as no one
seemed to know where a church was we marched ahead, at
lastwe arrived at one where on the outside displayed in
violet colouring upon a white sheet were the words
"Violet Day." I didn't know we had a violet day amongst
the Saints' Days, etc. in the Church Calendar, but however
ignorant I am about Church matters, the interior
of this particular Church looked very pretty, violets
everywhere. We rather took the parson by surprise I
think, our presence was not known or expected in Melbourne.
The front pews were reserved for our use, and as the
sides were packed with children I suppose we added to the
enjoyment of the show for them.
Monday.
We left Melbourne this morning about half past
six and wound our way out of Port Phillip, as you know
a big inland lake which appears to be very shallow judging
by the winding passage we had to follow. The distance
from Melbourne to the heads is about 50 miles, and as
there are no little inlets or bays, the passage is rather
monotonous. As we neared the heads the land on the starboard
side, "right side", was low and undulating and seemed
mostly under cultivation. I suppose potatoes and turnips
were the crops but they had the appearance of wheat from
One board. My little glimpse of Melbourne has not
impressed me very much; of course it was very fleeting
so under the circumstances I should not criticise too
much. To-day is Friday, some days since I wrote last.
The boat has been thudding its way across the Great
Australian Bight. We are now about five hundred miles
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from Fremantle, and as Neil said yesterday, three hundred
miles from the nearest land in a lateral direction and
about three and a half or four in a perpendicular. Just
fancy four miles of water underneath you. If this boat
would only keep still I could write perhaps, but everything
seems to have its amusing side, especially when all the
plates and dishes suddenly set off on a little race of
their own to the other end of the table, and there
congregate in a mass to take a return trip. The fellows are in
all sorts of positions. Next me a card party is in progress,
poker I believe they are playing. Some of the chaps are
rather foolish, money is not too plentiful now that we
are on active service and they have lost it all. The
remaining lot who are below are either writing letters or
playing quoits, the majority, amongst whom is poor old
Edward, are up on deck for the most part sprawled out
some in horse boxes, others on the canvas covering the
hatchway. I have just bought some ginger and soda nuts
for afternoon tea. You know I can't help smiling some:
times, not at the other poor beggars who are sick, but
at myself. Last night at dinner time I went up for a
wash. I had been reading a book called "The Prospector'
during the afternoon, and as soon as I reached the cold
air I seemed to go to pieces so to speak. I waited to
have the wash but could not stay any longer, I had to
make one dive into the hammock and there keep quiet, while
the others just a little way from me were having their
tea. Somebody asked after me but I kept quiet till the
spasms had passed, and then very quietly sneaked out
and took my place at the table - a fellow feels such
a fool when he is sick. A little time ago I did some
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washing, a wash all round as a matter of fact; there
are only two showers here and they are situated in a poky
little washroom on deck. It is rather difficult to get
at them when every one is having a wash, so after dinner
to-day I got some clean clothes and had a shower, most
annoying things salt water showers are too, the soap
won't lather, and washed all my dirty clothes which are
now drying in one of the horse-boxes on deck. We will
arrive at Fremantle early on Sunday morning I believe
and may have another day at Church, but it is very uncertain
whether we leave the boat or not? I will write a
little note now and heave it out of the port-hole enclosed
in a bottle.
Monday 12.7.15
Well I believe I have seen a little of the lower
side of human nature but of that later. We arrived at
Fremantle on Sunday morning. I did not see the entrance
as I was on guard, but at 12 o'clock the relief came and
I was permitted to view this pretty little town. Fremantle
is situated at the mouth of the Swan River and about 12
miles from Perth. There is no river harbour, a couple
of breakwaters run out and owing to their shelter we have
remained at peace, free from the roll. In the afternoon
Captain Stucky took us for a route march through the
place on to a hill overlooking the town and harbour.
There are various small islands about twelve miles out
from land, one called Ratnes Island is where the German
prisoners are confined, a gaol also adds to the civilization.
The gaol boasts of the proud record that only one
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man has ever escaped and swum across to Fremantle where
the poor beggar was captured again. I can just about
picture his expression after swimming twelve miles, to
see a collection of police waiting for him. Fremantle,
as I said, is a clean little place; there is nothing
striking about it, no conspicuous buildings, the population
only, numbers about twelve thousand. The most
striking feature of the place was the number of people
who could signal with flags - boys, girls, men - they
were all asking who we were, young ladies from other
vessels were frantically trying to catch our signaller's
eye. On Monday we went for a tour of inspection through
Perth. We were asked whether we would rather go by boat
or rail. I wanted to go one way in each but as the
expense would have been a little extra the majority said
rail. So rail it was. The gauge in Western Australia
is very narrow: 3 feet 8 inches I believe, and the trains
seem very low and the carriages consequently very small.
There are a number of small stations between Fremantle and
Perth and our puffing little train did the journey in about
45 minutes. We passed the show ground on the way up, a
very pretty little place in the bush. At Perth we marched
through the streets till we arrived at a sports ground
and there, Captain Stucky being away seeing about a
place for dinner, Lieutenant Smith,being the 2nd in
command,gave us drill. Rather a tactless thing to do,
our drill was a disgrace to any body of soldiers, so we
were put on our honour and allowed to wander at will
till dinner time. We lunched at Bond's and afterwards
were allowed to disperse till a quarter to four. Ted
met some young lady he knew so was fully occupied for
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the day. I and Lin Pearce and Salway hurried off to the
Zoo as we heard it was the most picturesque place. It is
situated on the other side of the Swan River from the
Railway Station. Sitting in the little Ferry Boat taking
us across was Miss Sweet who had taught me as a small child
of five. She was with her sister Mrs. Baker, whose husband
is a doctor over here. I gave her a little souvenir of
Perth to send to Mother for me. We did the Zoo rather
hurriedly: I snapped the old tiger. The gardens and
the laying-out can give the old Sydney Zoo points. The
public tennis-courts are situated in the gardens also.
We arrived back at the station in time, but alas! that
was where the trouble started. A lot of the fellows seem
to think that the highest pinnacle of happiness can only
be obtained by rushing to the nearest pub. Consequently
when the Fall-in went some staggered up in rather a
wobbly manner. However every one got on board all right:
but one of the chaps called Edwards, (you will never know
him, so his name does not matter) went just about mad.
He fought every one. The police tried to arrest him
but he knocked two of them out with the assistance of
another drunk. At last these two beauties were coaxed into
the cell, but as they immediately tried to choke each
other, one had to be put into the inner cell. There are
iron bars separating these two cells and I have never seen
anything more resembling a wild animal than Edwards trying
to get through those bars; he cursed and swore, animals
luckily can't do that, but he crawled over them just
like a gorilla, spitting at the other man, trying to tear
him through the bars, shrieking in an inhuman sort of
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shriek of rage because he couldn't get at him. He is
being tried by court-martial in Fremantle to-day, miles
behind us now. Last night, our last night in Australia,
was merry right enough, six fellows have fatigue for the
rest of the trip. One of the reasons of all the bust up
was that we received news on boarding the boat that
Atwood, one of our fellows (and a jolly nice chap too)
had died of pneumonia the day we left Sydney, and all
these drunks on hearing the news immediately began to cry
and swear they would do anything for him, fight in
particular, the consequence was they all began fighting
each other.
Saturday 17.7.15.
Ever since we left Fremantle we have been broadside
on to the roll, so consequently the Clan MacEwan has had
rather a restless time of it. The weather has not been
very rough, if it had I think the boat would have turned
turtle. Nothing has happened since the memorable night
of our leave taking, every one is very quiet lolling
in hammocks on deck, reading or practising semaphore,
cards and books seem to be keeping the majority quiet
down below. I have read three books in the last three
days, but I'm afraid I'm rather hard to please as far as
novel reading goes, there always seems to be a sameness
about them, a hero, a heroine and a villain seem to be
the chief characters, and as soon as you get up to them
the plot seems to disclose itself; you know there will
be a little manoeuvring before the happy climax is reached
and the poor villain has to play his part. However I
had better not criticise novels too much as I am generally
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promptly sat on when I do and put down as a silly. Of
course I like some novels very much indeed but there seems
so much exaggerated sentiment in them. There goes the
gramophone again with its perpetual good humour. We are
somewhere in the Indian Ocean at present I dont know exactly 
where as we are not following the regular course and
have not sighted a vessel since leaving Freemantle, the only
thing of interest was a whale which spouted then dived not
to appear again.
Sunday 18.7.15.
This being the Sabbath day I had better make an entry.
We had church service on board this morning, Captain Stucky
acting as clergyman. The hymns we had were "Onward Christian
soldiers" "Abide with me", and "Rock of ages". I committed
a sin, they gave us each a little army service prayer-book
and instead of handing mine in I put it in my pocket. This
afternoon Lin Pearce and I were leaning over the bows looking
at the water as it surged in front of the boat, the blue
of the water is beautiful today, I have never seen it so perfect. 
We had just had a drink and as the bottle was near
us we decided to write a couple of notes and drop them in
the bottle overboard. I wrote on the back of my note a
little prayer to Neptune, I will write here what I said.
"Oh Father Neptune, God of the mighty sea
Whose ever restless surface holds thy sway
Take this small bottle that I give to thee
And guide it with thy trident on its way".
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