o land, and our navigator captain lost
his temper, because the only available lighter in Guam was smashed by a
falling bundle of pig iron the first thing. For a while the outlook for
fresh provisions in Guam was a sorry one, for our captain vowed by all
his saints that he would up anchor and away at four o'clock. The glass
indicated a change of weather, and he was unwilling to risk his ship
in the labyrinth of coral reefs that encircles the island. Fortunately
a German tramp whaler dropped into harbor at this point for water,
and some boats were obtained from her--though I could never see why,
for we had plenty of our own. The unloading process went on briskly,
and toward noon the U.S. gunboat _Yorktown_ came in to pay a call; thus
there were actually three vessels at one time in the harbor of Guam.

Such a repletion of visitors had never been known there. The four-mule
wagons seemed crazed with excitement. The enthusiasm even spread to the
natives, who hung about in dug-outs, offering to sell us cocoanuts,
pineapples, and green corn. Our captain kept his word, for at four
o'clock we swung about and left Guam behind us. Our passenger list
was richer by several political prisoners who had been in exile and
were returning to their native land--whether for trial or for freedom,
I have no knowledge.

Some five or six days later, it was rumored that we should pick up the
light on the southeast coast of Luzon about midnight, and most of us
stayed up to see it. We also indulged in the celebration without which
few passenger ships can complete a long voyage. We had a paper and
it was read, after which ceremonial the ship's officers invited us to
partake of sandwiches and lemonade in the dining-room. The refreshments
were considerably better than the paper, which was neither wise nor
witty, but abounded in those commonplace personalities to which the
imagination of amateur editors usually soars.

About 2 A.M., when yawns were growing harder and harder to conceal,
the light made its appearance. I counted three flashes and went below.

Next morning, we were hugging the coast of Albay abreast the volcano
of Mayon, said to be the most perfect volcanic cone in the world. It
seems to rise straight from the sea; with its perfectly sloping sides
and a summit wreathed in delicate vapors, it is worthy of the pride
with which it is regarded by the Filipinos.

Then we entered the Strait of San Bernardino, between Luzon and Samar,
and p