Diary transcript of Reginald Harriman Heywood, 1917 - Part 6

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June 20th, 1917.
It's a sure agreeable day to day and not before
it was needed - for the strain of keeping on the qui vive
to be on the larger piece when the old craft finally
pushed herself in two, was begginning to tell.
This is about the spot where the "Tyndareus"
with English troops on board hit a mine about 11 weeks ago
and Sparks reminds us it is where the "Birkenhead" went
down. Wish they wouldn't leave us so entirely alone.
Quite a night of emancipation this - all the 
sisters away on the troop deck at a euchre party or something
of the kind with the soldiers - and no restrictions
placed on anything in the saloon. The Chief and the
Ships Doc. came into the saloon and we had a whole night's 
music - men only - and some class believe us.
Due at Cape tomorrow.
June 21st, 1917.
Passed Cape Agulhas in the early a.m. and the
Cape of Good Hope at a more respectable hour. Another
snice morning and beautiful passing the 12 Apostles, Camps 
Bay and Table Mountain.
Entered Table Bay and went alongside about 1 p.m.
amongst others of the convoy and passing close to the
Orient S.N. "Orama" - now a cruiser, which is to take us
in. The town a fine sight and the Table Mount had its
famed cloth on it.

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After lunch were subjected to considerable tho'
usual delay in getting ashore.
I remember laboriously translating in a latin
book once "it is pleasant to look on the sea from the land"
Don't remember any Mr. Cute trying to prove the converse
tho'
Sighted the Cape Police - and for a collection 
of whiskered old relics they'd romp in. They looked
straight out of Gilbert & Sullivan - and I waited anxiously
for the orchestra to strike up Ta-ran-ta-ra. One escaped
museum exhibit received quite an ovation but showed his 
authority by merely falling into a profound pout.
Got ashore a little after four and waylaid a
motorman who ran us out thro' the town to the Balderdasch
or Rondebosch or something which used to be the residence
of the late Cec Rhodes and is now a national institution,
park, zoo, museum and what not and is very beautiful with
its groves and fir trees and shrubberies and the Table
Mount at the back.
Didn't have time to see if there were any ta-ran
ta-ras in the museum - they'd look well - stuffed.
The town is a funny old place - some of the
buildings would make Noah's Ark look a perfect parvenue -
and most of the names on the shops etc sound like expensive
brands of soda water - but it is delightfully situated.

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Robbie & I were very taken with what looked to
us like a large disused drain pipe partly buried or a
patent kind of a tomb, but which on closer inspection
turned out to be the winter residence of a pretty large
family judging by the size and variety of the wash.
Motored round the foot of Table Mount and thence 
to Camp's Bay, and of all the drives on this side of the 
Valley of the Shadow I'd hand over the stakes to this
one. The ocean rocky beach on one hand and the huge
mountains on the other almost made me wish I was were a poet.
Had a very snug little dinner at the Queen's
Hotel at Sea Point - and could stand a week there easily -
all except the bill; and then returned to Cape Town by
tram. Chee! those trams - only wanted a shaft to stick
into my rear and I'd have sworn I was respectfully following
the remains. Pity they didn't make them a bit longer
and they could stop at two stopping points at once. Still
the streets are pretty narrow and even Govt. House is in
a boulevard about a full brother to Little Bourke.
Honoured the City Club - which is a very sumptuous
building but which lacks the outlook that the Durban
club enjoys. General Smuts is on the members list.
Played Tom billiards, had supper, and missed the last train 
home - so negotiated with one of the race of Jehu - and
wouldn't have been surprised to learn that we had hit on
the original steed - but he landed the goods and that was

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what he was paid for.
Once more climbed the gang-plank.
June 22nd, 1917.
Pushed off about 9 a.m. and were soon out at 
sea with our heads turned for home. We are into the
straight now alright and will soon begin to realize that
there is a war on I expect.
The convoy which is now supposed to be a fast
one includes the "Ascanius", "Shropshire", "Benalla" -
in order - and the "Marathon", "Tofua" and "Turakina"
on our left in charge of the "Orama" which appears to be
heavily armed.
We have picked up a few officers and some
S. Africans and Mauritians who are going to an officers
training school.
We are now supposed to be ready to do 11½ knots 
for 30 days and when we get to the distance it's volunteers
for the stoke-hold and hell for leather to the winning
post. Hope we'll waddle in.
We are due at Devonport in about 28 days and
are to call at Sierra Leone - the white man's grave
Sparks tells me - for orders.
Robbie woke me some old time to tell me potatoes
are 1½d each in London and that we are in for a hell of a
time. Told him I didn't care quite a lot if they were

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18d, so he retired sedately to ponder profanely the price
of hen fruit by proportion.
June 23rd, 1917.
If this ship doesn't roll over it will be a
mystery to me. It must be the 5,000 tons of lead in
her hold.
Was inoculated against typhoid to-day - 5 minims
of material. How I can sympathise with those guinea-pigs
that I used to run 10 c.c. of abortus milk into just for
fun. Wish we were in London - I've even tried knocking
off smoking just to give myself something to do.
Arm pretty sore so turned in early.
June 24th 1917.
The 300,000,000 B. typhosus are right on the
war path. The contest between them and the leucocytes
is interesting but its no joke being the arena, is it?
Stayed in bed and Robbie cheered me up by bringing
in the Y.M. hurdy gurdy and playing "Shall we gather
at the River" and the "Dead March". Needless to say I 
improved a whole lot slowly. Was able to get up and
take a little nourishment by dinner time, and got the
little quartermaster to cheer me up afterwards with his
being submarined experiences.
June 25th, 1917.
Lovely weather again but warming up. The good

- 56 -
weather is billed to last us till we get in now but we
won't complain if its good and rough and misty in the
Bay and Channel.
Rfcts. of polymorphs brilliantly repulsed the
remaining detachments of typhosus with the result that
I'm the battle ground no longer and my arm has resumed
the perpendicular - in fact I'm now as strong as the proverbial 
'scray sox.
A masonic spook show occupied the saloon so we
repaired elsewhere and with the harmonium and Mende and no
mean chorus had considerable of a time.
June 26th, 1917.
Weather pretty near perfect but getting no
cooler quickly - still under the good old Southern Cross
tho'
Poor old Jack - if he isn't moved somewhere at
table where he can't see Bibulous he'll starve. I wish
you could hear what he murmurs about that objectionable
b - gormandiser and other plaintive remarks more or
less fervent.
Have you ever seen a horse with an enlarged
abdomen and a coffin head that goes into the manger with
his mouth open and up to his eyes - broken winded of
- course. If ever I own a broken winded horse, I'll call 
him Bibulous - why with potatoes at 1½d it'll cost him 
1s6d a mouthful in London.

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Talking about eyes, Bib: has got an optic outfit
on the Tamworth specification - you know - small with white
lashes, but do they miss much? at meal time you'd think
they had St. Vitus' dance.  Should have been a whaler Bib
should - and if he used his harpoon like he uses his fork
on passing dishes at meal time - the genus whalus would
soon become a thing of the past. Every man to his job
tho', and at present Bib's steady job in life is harvesting
souls - no not soles.

Don't run away with the idea that Bib is a case
for the S.P.C.A. tho', because he must be a godsend to the
troops and they're the only ones that matter, but he's
got a disadvantageous appetite and a gastronomical impediment.

We're still making good time - 284 miles to-day
isn't bad for a convoy.

Snowy drew 284 in a £2 sweep on the day's run
and sold it for 2s.6d. Needless to say it was some time
before he was cool enough to handle.

Very nice up on the boat deck in the evening
especially with the moon attending to its business end
of the sky.

June 27th, 1917.

Quite a stir this morn - an odd craft happened
along about sun-up and on being politely asked - How do
you do and why promptly made off at about a 6 furlongs
clip with the "Orama" after her.

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They were soon down on the horizon and I for one was
beginning to think it would be interesting to know later
which of the two it was returning. Fortunately it
turned out to be the "Orama" and we understand she sent
a crew on board the stranger and searched her apparently
to their satisfaction.
The weather is lovely and just warm enough to
keep one from worrying over having nothing to do. Talking
about worrying - its a game that's a blind sight worse than
the gee-gees and its harder to pick a winner at, and then
when you do collect its the one game at which if you do
guess right you don't get any satisfaction out of your
shrewdness.
June 28th, 1917.
The thermometer has gone up a notch alright today
but it's far from as unbearable as many on board try
to make out - but we're a long way from high water mark
yet.
Poor old Tom has been laid aside - he's up to
the hospital with a more or less severe cold, and what
is more serious has been taken in hand by the S.M.O.
Here to-day and tomorrow running up an undertaker's
bill, Sparks would add.
To-day the gunners had some practice with the
pea-shooter on our stern - and fired pretty well so I'm
told - it was very hard to see with the naked eye tho'.
 

- 59 -
The men on the "Ascanius" did likewise. This is a 12 lb
gun on here - hope I never get too near a 12 inch.
In the evening slumbered in a deck chair up top
and was entertained by Mende and his violin. It's hard
to have to come right down to the saloon to light one's
pipe tho'.
June 29th, 1917.
S'very hot to-day and its midwinter this side
of the line. What'll midsummer be like the other side
when we step across.
Slumbered in varying positions thro'out the
morning and afternoon and strangely enough also during
the night.
If there is anyone on board more objectionable
than Knowall - it must be that gimlet person - tho' I
haven't given her a chance to make a break off me. Our
one hope is that she will be able to inveigle the old
Walrus into a position where she can be referred to as
nee Gimlet. Poor old Walrus, if he's only get his whiskers
harvested and his chest elevated about 18 inches and
lost about 1 cwt adipose he's build up into a pretty decent
P.C. and I don't want to wish him any harm, but I do hope
he'll go in and win and live to enjoy many years of antiseptic
bliss. The O.C. announced at lunch that until
further notice formal dress is a thing of the past and
we can appear how and in what we like. Pity there are
 

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any sisters on board - cholera belts would be all the
fashion.
Tom seems much improved to-day - we miss him,
how we miss him!
June 30th, 1917.
Still very torrid and was glad to appear at
meals in a shirt plus trousers of course.
Did you ever hear of the Goat in the Wilderness?
he was a misused animal but that Scapegoat was a pensioned
off cup winner to the A.A.V.C.
Quite a furore this morn when they broke the
news gently to us that the Sisters find themselves a bit
overstocked and wanted one of our cabins. The prospect
of having a couple of nurses in our midst was full up
with possibilities and the Matron decided that Clarke &
Co's lot was about what she wanted and Phillips has come
in with me and Clarke has left for fresh fields and
pastures new.
But you ought to see the verdict - looks like
a life sentence. They must have been the pioneers of
the nursing industry in Australia, they're the negative
pole alright and about as inviting as Artic rocks - why
they needn't have moved Clarke and Phillips out of the
cabin at all. Looks pointed, doesn't it. I saw the
adjutant and explained to him that while we can stand the
injury the insult is intolerable.