was got up for my benefit, which exasperated every one—a naughty devil possessed me for the moment. They annoyed me by all this nonsense, so I took it out of them that way. Afterwards I had to be peacemaker, calmed down the captain, and gave King Peter a real talking to, which he took like a lamb, and promised to be good for the future!
Whilst the mailboat is in, the inhabitants all come aboard to meals, and for a new atmosphere and fresh beer, and there are high jinks. The deck afterwards is strewn with rows and rows of dead soldiers—empty beer bottles. The captain does not approve of this, but cannot and does not like to prevent it, and says that some time he must end it if more passengers begin to use this route. Very few do so at present, as from Australia they take the China mailboat via Torres Straits.
[Herr Hesse-Wartegg in his book says that when he was at Herbertshöhe the people all came out crying for beer and ice, and asking, “Have the English had another beating from the Boers?” They no doubt rejoiced heartily at news of every disaster to the hated “English,” just as they did openly and continually in Germany itself, and, for the matter of that, in France and in Belgium.]
After lunch—this very stormy meal—I went ashore with Mr. Parkinson, who drove me in his buggy for some miles through the beautiful plantations. The Germans compelled Queen Emma to make a road, though they made none themselves. The road was merely turf or laid down with pumice stone. It was a delightful and interesting drive through a lovely scene. At places orange trees were planted between the rows of cocoanut palms, doing well and looking beautiful. Every year, I was told, thirty thousand young cocoanuts are planted, so that for a long period of time Queen
