Diary transcript of Reginald Harriman Heywood, 1917 - Part 3

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Told her my age, brands and sex - not quite the facts but
a very gentlemanly act and I never tell a lie except to
help a friend or to entertain a lady. She has promised
to mother me - which I think includes mending and ironing
but which seems rather absurd as she looks about 19.
Still in the nursing department it is almost alarming -
the rapidity with which they jump from Sisters to Matrons.
There seems to be no intermediate step.
Have you ever been in a position where you didn't
know whether you were sea-sick or home-sick or only in
love? I have. She says we are going to be good friends
but I doubt that becos' she's got my throat pastilles,
skipping rope and half my photos and I haven't much else
now. Also says I'm sinister, irritable, conceited and
Tom, Dick and Harry too and things which my gentlemanly
instincts forbid my mentioning. Bravo, W.A. - if I only
had a tail I'd wag it off.
Talk about the irony of Fate. The N.M. church
hand organ has just been deposited in our cabin and when
Robbie isn't pumping weird and wonderful sounds from it -
it is to be used for a poker table and we use Cascara
Tablets for counters too!
Snowy was enjoying 40 winks on the top berth and
woke up in the belief that he was in another and better
land - but found to his disgust that it was only Robbie
and the Padré rendering "O Rest in the Lord" - the Padré
 

- 21 -
a rich basso profundo in a 6 x 8 cabin too.
Full dress Church Parade on the after deck at
10.30 was most impressive.
Ernie has a rival. The portly party from W.A.,
who bears considerable resemblance to Walrus of Triangle
fame - has taken to promenading the deck in his balaclava.
Tom says he looks like a crusader but personally I think
he looks more beer than blood.
Snowy & I were drawn together in a deck quoit
tournament. Tom drew the Dyspeptic Hebrew.
Another reception in our cabin tonight - pretty
stuffy too with everything sealed up. Wish I could get
a drink - you do get funny views thro' the small end of
a glass don't you?
Before I turn in I must register a kick at my
earlier impressions of the munitioners. I got a good
view of them at Church parade and while there are plenty
of four flushes there are a good many over the military
age - and their faces made me feel like hating myself.
There are a few winners amongst them.
May 28th, 1917.
Arose with the lark or the flying fish or whatever
takes the place of the milkman at sea and went freely
over a couple of furlongs up top.
Jack and I are still in the running in the
quoits having outed Jim Borrowman and Capt. DeLacey.
 

- 22 -
Before I forget it - Bibulous is the Prince of
food stevedores, fact he's a whole royal family. He's
got Marion the steam shovel looking like a passée tooth
pick. Half a tomato or a 6 inch stalk of asparagus
present no difficulty - as he's a past master on natural
angles. Harvesting isn't in it. Hope he doesn't dislocate
his jaw or irretrievably damage his eyes because
he's sure interesting to watch.
Capt. Patrick vaccinated us after lunch - the
preparations Ernie made were more fitted for a wedding.
He's now fitted out in a brilliant red arm band.
Jack and I faded away in the semi-final - beaten
by Mendelsohn and Gray. Short of a gallop I'm afraid.
First blood to the A.A.V.C., Capt Phillips
skilfully encompassed the death of the only pup on board -
under orders from the O.C. That'll tell you - they order
the death of a perfectly sound pup and leave a lot of
mangy munitioners. Said pup was given some Clo' and
dropped over into 600 0000000 miles of H2O. Without
friends and without enemies - the last reliable account
of a stray dog.
Spent an hour in the saloon this afternoon hot as

the well known hobs already. Someone mentioned a glass
of larger iced! and this is a water wagon too. Think I'll
go to Broken Hill and be a camel.
Hit the pillows about 11 o'clock but Ernie came
 

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in some old time and coughed up a confused version of an
egg of wild unholy fragrance and a nurse. Most exhilarating -
must have had fully half an hour's sleep after that.
May 29th, 1917.
First burial at sea - at 8 this morning. Some
poor fellow on the "Turakina". We fell in on the boat
deck and saluted the "Last Post". Don't know who he
was but he was a man and a friend of mine.
Knowall reminds me of a bantam rooster - always
crowing. Crows when he wakes up - instead of getting
his brand on to that worm we hear about. Crows when he
goes to roost when he should be catching up with his sleep.
Crows sometimes in the night just to show he doesn't
know sunrise from moonrise yet and always crows when he
sees a hen. Does the same when he sees a rooster too -
which generally gets him a penalty. Almost makes me
wish I was a hen - when a hen says anything she's generally
laid an egg and she doesn't make much noise over that
either.
That reminds me you can't please everyone can
you? What about the quink that said "It's the early bird
that catches the worm." If the worm had stayed in bed
it wouldn't have been caught, but he didn't think of that
did he?
The little woman from W.A. could ride about
6-7- and nearly all that must be heart. One of those

- 24 -
Mr. Cutes once said something about a woman's crowning
glory being her hair. Don't know whether he was sick or
shick - but plenty of heart room is handy, isn't it?
Talking about hearts - Mr Morgan, the 3rd engineer,
took me down amongst the infernal internals tonight.
Hope they'll hangout alright when the pace is on.
Morgan is a very decent sort in spite of coming from N.Z.
If Robbie wakes me tonight - he'll want a coffin
lid - and when you want one of those you want it pretty
badly.
May 30th, 1917.
Robbie didn't wake me but I did make much of
a success of sleeping. Coming into a cabin after having
the stars for a roof for so long is a bit steep I suppose.
When somebody tells you women are all goodness
and gentleness don't you believe it - if they hold a good
hand they draw to it and win alright. They win anyhow -
if they don't hold anything they throw in their sex and
win harder than ever. I hate a game where I've got no
chance.
I've been severely reprimanded during the last
few days for saying things which are said to be nasty
about fellow passengers. Today when Knowall asked me a
damfool question about a nurse I looked vinegar but answered
oil. The perfect gentleman from now on!
 

- 25 -
Tom and his dyspeptic partner having had a bye
in the quoits are now in the final spasm. Unfortunately
dydpepsia has been laid up again in the final has had
to be postponed. Its a good job his digestive system
isn't built on the ruminant plan. He's got enough worries
with one stomach - don't know what he's do with four.
Its about 10-9 on Tom's opponent but I'm going
to stick to the stable if I can get a price.
May 31st, 1917.
Nice fellow Ernie but a bit nocturnal in his
habits. Doesn't go much on sleep and he's not exactly 
what you could call somnolent infact about bedtime he's
not what you could call anything that I could mention
here. I wish you could see him in his red dressing gown
though, he's got Victor Prince's Rajah of Blwng down to
a 3rd division hanidcap.
Been a bit rough the last couple of days but
still lovely weather - but I do wish something would
happen. I never appreciated scenery before - except
that kind with footlights or numbers on the saddle cloths
but I'll bet I'd go into ecstasies over a good many places
about now.
It must be nearly time the weights for the cups
were out. Wonder how they'll treat Marculfus and Wishing
Cap.
Tom took the count in the final and we lost our
 

- 26 -
money. The dyspeptic one wasn't much use to him when
the pace was on.
There are remours that we are to call at Mauritius
4 or 5 days off now; otherwise we won't hit terra firma
till about June 12th. How could I love Mauritius.
In the evening select concert in the saloon -
accent on the select. The Star item was a song by one
of the sisters. It must have been a kind of gag becos
no one guessed till she suddenly belched out the "Song
that reached by heart" as a sort of afterthought. She
didn't hit a right note right thro' the spasm and it was
enough to give anyone a hobnailed liver and then some.
Honest you could pour more music out of a storm tin.
A beast of a night.
June 1st, 1917.
Wish there wern't any women on board or otherwise
that they wouldn't use cheap scent. How would you
like to walk along the prom for a breath of atmosphere
straight and be assailed at every porthole by a succession
of malodors from Flor-de-celery to Peau-de-Fremantle.
The city abattoirs Flemington would waste its sweetness on 
the desert air.
I thought the old packet was going to roll over
in the night - and didn't care if she did either. Had
our 3rd lifeboat drill today - expect they will give us a 
rouse out in the early a.m. shortly. It would be quite
 

- 27 -
a godsend. Ned quite conversational today. Ejected
something about the weather - almost ebullient for him.
I corroborated his meteorological sentiment but was too
stunned to take advantage of the opening.
June 2nd, 1917.
The little lady from W.A. has been a bit cramped
in her style the last day or two - homesick I expect -
and while I think of it I'd like to meet the matron some
dark night. Said little lady should never have been
in this show - she's too young. Most of the sisters
have got nothing to fear except perhaps from drunks of or
lunatics and then if it came to brute strength I'd have a
saver on most of them - but I'd send the little one home.
She's got a friend on this ship tho! - hope she'll never 
need him.
The weather continues perfect but this is a
beast of a ship to roll. Next war I'm going to be a
staff officer. At all events I'm never going further to
sea than Sorrento and then round Dromana way.
How I wish someone would invite me to do something.
I'd join anyone in anything from a drink up -
and the bigger the damfoolishness the harder I'd join.
I wish I could describe the party with the pinc-nez
to you. He's built on generous lines especially
about the quarter - and likewise he's got plenty of depth
 

- 28 -
in front. But it's his top lines that get you. He's
got one on those fading-away faces - you know direction
alright but elevation queered. Then there's the clipper
bow nasal effect and the pinc-nez hawser. If it wern't
for his manner of speech I'd say he was about as near to a
penguin as anything you could mention but when he talks
I can't get goannas out of my head. He's got a queer
way of shooting his tongue in and out which may be good
exercise but doesn't help his ennunciation much. I never
know whether he's begging my pardon or airily dismissing
me. Don't know whether he's got a cleft palate or spasm
of the phrenum linguae.
Three weeks out from Melbourne today. The
best's always good enough for me and I've been wondering
what's wrong with Australia.
More soul-stirring sounds in the saloon to-night.
Robbie at the piano for 2½ hours with his pipe pulling
double. Pretty consistent smoker Robbie - comes into
meals to be sociable but it's tobacco he lives on.
June 3rd, 1917.
Round to Sunday again. Quite an event. Holy
Communion in the Saloon at 7.30 and Church Parade aft at
10.30.
I wonder if this ship would roll tied up to a
wharf.
Sparks is a cheerful boy - says I'll have to be
 

- 29 -
vaccinated again, also says 6 men in his batallion died
from the typhus inoculation - that's to come.
Talking about cheer - the crew of this ferry
seem to have made a hobby of being torpedoed. Some of
them make money out of the insurance - hope they'll be
disappointed this time. Perhaps the old man won't be
as fond of sporting risks as he was.
The more I see of theS.M.O. the prouder I am
of the A.V.C. He's big but about the build and consistency
of a pound of the Colac Butter Factory's best.
His idea of humour is to get hold of some clever little
epigram about as fresh as a last year's preserved egg and
stick to it. Just now its "sacco - bons" - whatever that
is - thats him. Very good but musty. Indulges in the
gum habit and is the most placid looking ruminant I ever 
saw outside a pasture. A kind tame expression heightens
the bovine impression. Which reminds me we musn't
criticize superiors in the army but we're allowed to
think.
Wonder what's for dinner at home to-day. I
used to live there once.

A red letter day in the musical world to-day.
Robbie appropriated the Y.M. hurdy-gurdyy and with Sister
Whyte at the piano and Mendle with his violin they were
reminiscent of Flemington on cup day. No not the lawn -
over towards the abbattoirs I mean. Robbie also gave