Diary transcript of Reginald Harriman Heywood, 1917 - Part 5

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June 12th, 1917.
5.30 a.m. S. Africa a blur on the background
and Durban just visible. Got in about 8 o'clock - Some
sight you can bet.
The Port is a fine one, tho' small, guarded by
two breakwaters and a very high bluff with the inevitable
lighthouse etc. Looked a bit overstocked with ordinary
shipping and 7 or 8 Imperial Transports and our little
lot, especially when our second division headed by the
little Jap slid in. The old "Suffolk" with troops
paraded and bands going passed very close to us and looked
good oh!
I bet heaven will look something like Durban
did on the morning 12.6.17.
Fortune grinned our way and we went straight
alongside and were soon being bombarded by members of the
weaker sex of the population with oranges, pineapples, etc.
Some of the troops reciprocated with potatoes - and I was
heartily amused at a shot which registered a bull on a
person in an extraordinary dress like Will Whitburn's
fireman. My ribald laughter was cut short by Tom informing
me he was one of the Durban Constabulary and he himself
regarding me stonily.
It didn't take us long to draw a crowd of nigs
either - they're some class. Tom and I at once were taken
with a sporty boy attired in a luminous stock collar,
 

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another blasê old cock upholstered in an advertisement
for somebody's flour and a pair of metal garters cut quite
a dash, and a superior sort of  a dude was got up to kill
in an in at the waist coat which must have been left
behind about 1908 by Leslie Holland. The coat came down
too far for us to notice whether he affected trousers or
not. We also renounced girls past present and future
and surrendered our hearts to a real Bertram McKenneall
draped in the whole spectrum. A penchant for large
tweed caps imparted to the whole outfit quite a racy
flavour.
After some delay occasioned by that fat
punce got ashore about 11 a.m. and reached the city some
ten minutes later - that was because there was no conveyance
sooner.
Rubbed shoulders with Kaffirs, Zulus, Breeds
and what not. Indians, Arabs, Jews, Dutch Boers and didn't
see a Poon Gooey. Australians and New Zealanders.
10,000 Imperial troops and British and Japanese naval men.
Was guided by instinct to the "Royal" and
enjoyed real food and other things. Could hardly refrain
from moo-ing when I got a cup of tea with real cow-juice.
The waiters are all Indians and were attired in white
with purple sashes - Mr Oliver's "Harlech" I think.
Some shopping - and hour or two's run round the
suburbs, refreshments, a couple of miles in a ricksha,
 

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refreshments and a few odds and ends filled the bill.
The town itself can't hold a candle to little old Melb.
but there are some fine buildings including the Town Hall,
which I think beats anything we have. Surroundings
however are most picturesque and the Berea, Albert Park,
and better residential parts beautiful. The great charm
is the ocean beach just at the end of the main street.
The man that motored us round was one of the besiegers of
Ladysmith but has now squared the circle - wounded with
the British in German E. Africa.
Tried the "Marine" for dinner - quite as good
as Menzies and The Grand, Melb. You can bet the places
were pretty packed with about 25,000 visitors.
Could almost have been convicted for the diamonds
I saw at dinner. One homely old girl was carrying about
a 10 lb penalty - talk about Sparks. Barios window was
like a candle in an acetylene exhibit at the Agricultural.
A couple of paperweights had her ears stretched out till
they must have creaked. Another old ad. for the non-success
of Antipon didn't waste much of her showcase and
was fitted out in front with inter alia a young searchlight
in the shape of a butterfly with a dew-drop for a body
about the size of a big windgall.
The theatre - "Theodore & Co" - rather second
rate but good enough and then "HomeLouis" wound up the
day, except for the P.M. in the cabin.
A tenner wasn't much use in Durban.
 

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June 13th, 1917.
Another lovely day of which I didn't waste much.
Spent the afternoon and evening down at the Esplanade and
Ocean Beach - about 10 minutes from the G.P.O.
The Fern Villa and Edward hotels are right on
schedule and a big camp of Imperials in the background
looked good oh!
The Beach part is a mixture between Coogee,
N.S.W. and St. Kilda, Vic - except the shows are a bit
down on their uppers. Saw some horses and racing ponies
swimming, and was altogether charmed.
Not the least impressive scene of the day was
an entertainment to the Japs - officers and men, who we
hear are to escort us right in. All soldiers seem to
have been invited and the Durban Town Hall was full.
I might mention that the Durban people are very
good and amongst other things the trams are placed at
our disposal.
Still very charmed with Durban and still feel
like the night before the morning after.
June 14th, 1917.
Rather a blustering sort of day so availed myself
of a darkroom which a gentleman kindly placed at my
disposal - and am pleased to say have secured some decent
photos of Durban.
Seized the opportunity to honour the Durban
 

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Club with my membership. It's a fine club, picturesquely
situated - with a wide tiled verandah and steps running
down to the palm-planted Marine Parade overlooking the
harbour.
In the afternoon a 40 H.P. Austin took us out
through several villages along the Maritzburg railway

turning at a place called Sarina Sarnia. Saw sugar works,
mosques, kraals, compounds, pineapples, bananas, bread
fruit etc and looked over the something or other river
into Zulu-land. I felt almost Rider Haggard.
The Padre put a top on it by taking us to
afternoon tea on the Marine Parade. Rained in the evening
so went back to the old "Benalla" for dinner and stayed
on board.
June 15th, 1917.
A most gorgeous day but am feeling the effects of
too much racing - the morning after you know. Printed my
photos in the morning and posted them home.
The "Benalla" has sprung a leak and the diver
says it will take some little time to fix so we won't
get away till Sunday or Monday.
The "Ulyseses" has also got into an argument with
the "Suffolk" and will take some time to recuperate.
Hope we won't cut out Cape Town through this.
Repaired to the Durban club to write up this journal and
thence to Edward for dinner and a stroll and numerous
 

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cigars on the Beach in the evening.
Struck a very sporty ricksha man to take us
home. Think he wasn't handled too well when they broke
him in. Anyway he bucked and shied and plunged all the
way down to the boat and on several occasions bumped the
back of the concern on the ground meanwhile airily waving
his feet in our faces. Once or twice I felt like getting
out and taking hold of his head but he passed everything
on the road so I let him go. I afterwards found he was
right away up at the head of his profession and this was
only a practical demonstration. Dirt cheap at half a
dollar too!
June 16th, 1917.
Had to look for a place where there wern't any
shops or hotels or other pursuers of the elusive way fray bit.
About the most barren prospect was the Bluff opposite so
hastened to the ferry, 6d return. Saw a place which
looked as tho' it might have been refreshment rooms, so
broke for the whaling station - on foot. It was some
stiff but oh good! and the view from the top made me
forget the ferry fare. Saw monkeys - real wild apes -
and flowers and asparagus fern you could hardly climb
through' - butterflies to beat the band and birds too -
but haven't seen a big tree in Africa bar some gums in
the park. They say there are big trees inland.
Saw hundreds of porpoises in the breakers,
 

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sharks and whaling boats and then came the whaling station -
Footscray isn't in the same key. It was good to get to
windward and lie on the beach and watch the Indian ocean
rolling in.
Returned to the boat in time for afternoon tea.
they'll want me on Wall St next.
Robbie returned from somewhere about dinner
time - greatly hit up with a person by the name of Mary
Leach. If I were the prince of prudence and the no mean
strategist the that Robbie tells me he is I'd be a whole lot
suspicious of a name like Leach - sounds too clinging.
Robbie's preached, prayed and lectured us all the way
from Melbourne too on the perils of Breach of Promise -
he's a funny old geezer, isn't he?
Took the mournful Sparks to the "Red Widow" and
wound up a very happy time. The modern Tom Walls almost
forgot his worries and once or twice was startled into a
laugh. I expect his thoughts went back to "East Lynne"
and "The face at the Window."

Came unwillingly and sadly up the gangway for
the last time I expect.
Didn't see a drunk in Durban - the spirit was
willing alright but the pubs were shut. This added much
to the pleasure of the visit, especially as there were
permits for officers.
I've just got about enough cash to get me jailed
 

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at the Cape - the best way I can spend my time if its
anything like Durban.
June 17th, 1917.
About midday our little cruiser stole off -
and very soon all our big sisters had poked their noses
out to sea. We got away badly but the combined efforts
of the Pilot and a couple of tugs finally got us out of
the barrier just behind the "Shropshire".
Wish I could describe the impressiveness of the
scene - I wouldn't have missed this trip for something.
So long, Durban - shall have happy recollections
of you till breathing goes out of the fashion.
Soon headed South at a great bat and I might
mention that at the business end of the hunt and when the
pace is on this old bus is all there.
We soon left the others behind including some
that had a good start of us - and are taking a sporting
risk down to the Cape without any escort. It's a great
sight, this 30 odd thousand tons pushing its way thro' a
good sea at 14 knots.
The gloomy Sparks says we've got a 2 to 1 chance.
Evidently no betting man - why I've been up against longer
odds than that every day of my natural.
 

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June 18th, 1917.
Awoke about 3.30 a.m. to a bang that made me
think that the bottom of the sea had come up and hit us.
Waited anxiously for four short blasts for boat stations
and was then somewhat reassured by the ever watchful Ernie
singing surging profanely up and down the alleyway. Together
we made an inventory of the situation and found about
1,000 gallons of Indian Ocean in my cabin. Called up
fresh dug dry goods and with Ernie conducted salvage operations
on no mean scale and then crawled on to the opposite
bunk to ponder over why I didn't settle in Durban.
Hysterical laughter from Ernie and others
didn't improve the situation - it was a hell of a joke
to them. We are running down the cost of Africa but a
big sea and head wind has slowed us down. Talk about
blowing - I was standing up forrard and saw three seas in
succession each of which I thought we were going to dive
right under - three feet of water on the well deck too.
I don't blame the "Waratah" slinging in her hand if it
were a night like this. Rivers and bays for me from now
on.
June 19th, 1917.
I can stand too much but three much is too
much. What I started out to say is that I was washed
out again last night, this time good and hard. The alley-way
door and my port flip-flapped away in the breeze and
 

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left only the shutter to strain the H2O - kept the fish
out but that's about all. I must thank Tom for his
heroic assistance in salving operations conducted in bare
feet and 3 inches of Ocean. As both beds were wet I
could only choose the drier and when people tell you that
salt water won't give you a cold don't bet. I've got
enough pains in my back to start a research institute.
Robbie was decomposed with laughter - he's got
a fine sense of humour Ernie has. He's got a fine
assortment of slanguage too - with expletives for every
conceivable mishap - but I must own to giving him valuable
assistance on this occasion.
Stayed in bed most of the day but turned out
for boat drill in spite of the imminent risk of being
swept overboard at any old time - and were quite bucked
up by the news that we are in a locality where mines are
plentiful.
Can anyone tell me why Bibulous will effect
that anaemic tweed cap - must be an heir loom I think.
Try to picture a washed out misshapen sort of a runt in a
near-military uniform with on top a faded tho' faithful
check tourists outfit. Reminds me of Jerome K.Jerome
again - and of things much more obscene if my natural
gentlemanly instincts permitted.
Turned in to dream of Durban.