Diary transcript of Reginald Harriman Heywood, 1917 - Part 4

- 30 -
on several occasions his famous impersonation of an infuriated   
louse defending its litter. Wish I could get

Robbie fitted with a soft pedal.

Don't know whose sister, Sister Whyte is but I'd
bet over the blind that when the old man cashed in she
collected most of the bets.

Looks like a big night. Ernie in lighter vein
again and out of sheer amusedness booted the portly,
elderly and somewhat surprised Walrus in the saloon (you
know where the saloon is) He then retired in paroxysma
to our cabin to describe it and is now informing the ship
at large. In his efforts to acquaint the opposite cabin
with the exploit - he has completely unstrung the women
next door - hiccoughs of excitement.

Phillips and Clark are in for a grand time
between two fires.

Turning in but not to sleep I expect.

June 4th, 1917.

Day of Days! - the day on which some 30 years
ago I took a hand in lifes shuffle. Many happy returns
Sonny Boy. I can't understand how I've lasted so long -

they tell me the good die young. I can't have much
longer I suppose, so am trying to make it all count - you
wait till they hear I'm in Durban.
Snowy ' and I did 3 furlongs in a bit better than
even time before breakfast - we'll have to be striding

- 31 -

along shortly now, but I think we'll have to put Tuck
by until after this meeting - you's wonder he could stand
training at all with all the complaints he coughs up
mornings when I wake him. He's a vivid invalid Tom is and
the most indefatigable sick man I ever saw - in the 
mornings.

This hasn't been a bad birthday - the folorn
little party from W.A. sent me a card and when I think of
all the time I haven't known her and the chances I have
been running of missing her, my heart ba^ulks and then
turns right over on its back. But see who she is and 
think of all I'm not.

I also got something from Knowall. He told 
me he was a pessimist and I told him a pessimist is a 
lousey percher on life's hen roost. I don't know about
him being a pessimist but he's a consistent elocutionist.
He'd make the babbling brook look like a surface drain 
in a North wind. Thinks he owns the earth and has just 
happened along to run a barb round it.

Its warming up a good deal and we've got no 
chance now with the ships officers since they've climbed 
into their all whites - reminds me of the emergency colors 
back where they have things like good green turf and grandstands

and things. The one consolation is the ice they 
put on the table.

Talking about colors - wonder what Caibye has

- 32 -

got in the National. Caibye B:g 6 yrs by Camien Gaimen -
Good Bye, B1 jacket, Yellow Sleeves, Red Cap. Has anyone 
got a card?

We are now down on the cards for a deck quoit 
competition - mixed doubles. We have the privelege of 
drawing our fates out of such an everyday affair as a hat - 
quite romantic - from such a small beginning what great 
events do spring. The men of the A.A.V.C. seem to have 

been handed the lemons. Clark has landed the matron. 
Snowy a very faded flower. Phillips under the whip 
with Pharaoh's daughter and self a thought passee by the 
name of Wright - Wright is might I might add. Tucker has 
made quite a catch and I wouldn't leave my hat behind for 
her. Snowy says they wouldn't get a certificate of 
soundness between them. If we win a round we're sure 
wasting our time as vet officers - we ought to set up as 
quoit kings.

Robbie's star was aces when there wern't enough 
fairies to go round. I expect he'd have drawn a world 
beater. Gentlemen when things start coming your way in 
clusters what's the use of trying to duck?

Capt'n Fethers drew the prize.

Kissed myself good night - wonder where'll I be next 
birthday - there's one good bet I won't be in better 
company - they'll do to travel the plains with.

- 33 -

June 5th, 1917.

Snowy not seen on the tracks this morning - he's 
a sound dosser Snowy is.

About 10 a.m. got a glimpse of terra firma again - 
Mauritius in the background. We're not going in tho' but 
Doris the dear is handing us over to two Japs. Disasters 
are crowding us over the rails. Phillip and Pharoahs 
daughter down at the first. Tuck was run off the course 
at the second - and Snowy wasn't noticed by the judge.
I struggled along gamely but was carrying too much weight. 
Clark however was kept the matron on her legs over the 
first lap.

We ran along the coast of Mauritius for 3 or 4 
hours. It would be quite a slice of geography if they 
could flatten it out a bit. We were close enough to see 
green fields and settlements and a fire in the scrub 
looked quite homely. It was good to see if it was all 
mountains.

The Jap cruisers weighed out alright and we
are now headed South - to cooler latitudes I hope.

Clarke got the old lady safely over all the 
jumps but they couldn't quite see it out in the run home 
and only drew second money.

One of the cruisers just slid along between us 
and the "Turakina" and I waon't lose much sleep tonight 
over raiders. We've got a dinkum escort now.

- 34 -

Went to a munitioners Scotch concert - I didn't take an 
interpreter - and evidently don't understand Scotch wit 
or Scotch music.

June 6th, 1917.

Still gorgeous weather and not a ripple on the 
pond - might be on our own old bay.

About the only excitement today was the cheese 
which appeared at lunch. Snowy reckons something must 
have crawled into it and died - we me too!

I must apologise to the Matron who is not at 
all rotunda like, but who cuts plenty of ice when she 
talks - a pretty consistent failing. The rotund one 
is only second in command and goes by the name as near as 
I can get it - of Sister Gimlet. She's nearer an augur 
than a gimlet in size and just about as boreing. She 
hails from our district but I won't lay that up against 
her - I'm incog: As an epicure she's got the Padre done 
to a fizzle and if she uses anything in the way of support 
they must be very elastic.

I must enlarge on the night - it isn't disagreeable
a whole lot up on the boat deck. Not a wrinkle on 
the puddle and a moon like a new half crown. You know 
what that means - when you throw in seaside air and a 
happy family - and don't forget the two little grey-hounds 
out in front. I could almost forget and forgive the 
Bight.

- 35 -

Robbie and the Padre and a few cronies manned 
one of the life-boats and talked to beat the band. Their 
pipes wern't out of commission much either - wet smokers 
all. Hope we're not torpedoed tonight - that boat would 
be a non-starter - till they baled her out anyway.

June 7th, 1917.

This is too good to be true - I haven't been 
reproved for three days - feel swelled out like a boiled 
prune. The weather is all to the velvet - the cook is 
in good form - no one put the cheese too near me - and 
there's nothing to do. At £9 per its a shame to take 
the money. Even Knowall has been going a bit short in 
his stride for a day or two. The last I heard of him he 
was inter alia a hunter of some class - he doesn't look to 
me as tho' he ever hunted anything much livelier than 
Welsh rarebit. Still there's nothing left for him to 
be now and that's some consolation. Talking about cheese 
and there's no need to, it can do that for itself - the 
Padre says its the best he's tasted since he left Barrow-in-the Mud
or somewhere. That'll tell you - said he was 
a racy old bird, didn't I? Uses his judgement as the Padre 
does.

No war news today and that doesn't worry me a 
whole lot. You generally hear that susch and such a 
couple of ships were torpedoed and that the Russians are 
getting stronger and doing less every day. They'll be 

- 37 -

strong enough for a new riot soon.

The cheese has made its last appearance - must
have jumped overboard - I expect it hated itself pretty 
consistently.

June 8th, 1917.

Have you ever been to the pictures and sat next
a gent who bathes infrequently and as an offset uses some 
vivid perfume - you know how popular he is! Well that's 
about where the munitioners fit in except to Robbie and 
he could get 6 months for what he thinks about them. 
Last night Robbie was feeling as fit as a louse when as a
bon bouche someone told him the munitioners had had a
deputation to the skipper and as a result been granted the 
run of the ship. The first I heard of it was a sedate 
little symphony by Robbie in which he referred munitioners 
their heirs, ancestors and dependants, their carcases, 
personal effects and manners to everlasting perdition - 
and then some. He's pretty explicit Robbie is and on 
this occasion was lit up like a Xmas tree. Fortunately 
he went further afield and aired his views and in spite 
of the lateness of the hour routed out the Padre,Y.M. 
Burridge. The whole ship is now in arms against the 
munitioners and the event caused quite an agreeable stir.

There is a pretty considerable draught from 
somewhere tonight S.W. I think. There isn't much shelter 
on the ocean - but there's no sea yet. The breeze is

- 38 -

more or less welcome.

Went to boxing competitions on the troop deck - 
very valorous but highly unscientific. A night at Snowy 
Baker's wouldn't be hard to sit out.

June 9th, 1917.

Up in the air again - the old tub's rolling as 
though she were trying to shake something off her bottom.

The munitioners have cut their throats - hope 
they didn't miss the carotids. After deliberation the 
O.C. explained to them that they are under military control 
and that their name is mud - that's rough on all the mud 
that I've seen.

Only four weeks out today. Blime! it doesn't 
seem a month ago, does it since on that fair May morn we 
said good bye to the whole world and in the hope and confidence
of youth and the tug "Nyora", left our Big Smoke 
a blot on the horizon.

That was the day on which was born a great hate 
when Robbie encountered munitioners. It wasn't a spurt 
either but a long steady climb, and it's four weeks since 
he experienced his first sedate dislike. Robbie'll 
bubble up and burst one of these days.

For sheer excitement give me meals on this 
packet. You've got to keep on the qui vive with the 
chance of a pot of tea getting next any moment - and that's 
only a minor mishap. As exercise and scientific amusement

- 39 -

they're good but for meals they're some strenuous.

That Sparks boy reminds me that we are nearing 
where the "Waratah" cashed in - Takes his pleasures sadly 
Sparks does!

June 10th, 1917.

Sunday again with its attendant excitement. 
Another poor fellow went West this morning. "Shropshire" 
this time - fell down some stairs and was killed.

No Church parade today - the old Padre hasn't 
had much use for his oats lately.

Jupiter Pluvius is in the ascendent - which in 
Australia means its raining plurry hard - can hardly see 
the other ships.

Due in Durban on Tuesday - it won't feel bad 
to toe the pavement again, will it?

June 11th, 1917.

S'beautiful morning m'dears - but Snowy has 

gone to the bow-bwows - hasn't been noticed on the tracks 
lately. Wonder what I've done - our guardian angel has 
walked round me as tho' I was a swamp to-day. Oh, Frailty 
thy name is Woman!

Which reminds me that you can trust a lady's 
judgment on almost everything except a man. Its lucky 
she can't make the weight there tho' or we'd most of us 
be bachelors. I might add it's safer to spread your bets

- 40 -

on a man's tips too which is also lucky becos there are 
a good many old maids on this little old planet as it is.

I do wish you could see Ned - I'm on the boat 
deck and have got a good ring-side seat. He's heavy 
Ned is - not in build either - infact for an over at the 
knee bowed tendoned flat footed - take me to the zooprad 
he fills the bill. He's a long way up beyond description 
but is studying a book - a novel I think - such frivolity!
Makes frequent reference to a Cole's pocket dictionary 
which he carries in his pocket. I expect he has to look 
up the meaning of such words as emotion and human impulse - 
and talking of emotions you should see the expressions 
passing over his intellectual face - a bladder of lard 
would be a real Muriel Stan ^Starr beside Ned. With a sundowner 
hat poised at a rakish angle he's a great spectacle, in 
fact he's a whole telescope.

Our division has gone ahead now and left the 
slower vessels with one of the cruisers - evidently no 
room for us all in Durban at once.

Must tear myself away from the study of Ned's 
rapturous face - there's a smell from somewhere which is 
more a hint of whats for dinner than what was for lunch. 
Ned seems to enjoy it - that is as much as he ever enjoys 
anything - he looks as though he were raised on a bad 
smell. Hope he'll disguise himself as a human being 
one of these days.

Good night boys - Durban in the morning.