Chapter Three 
MOZAMBIQUE TERRITORY, 
PORTUGUESE EAST AFRICA (1) 
N my return to England after this expedition to the Trans- 
() vaal, my father died while in the act of bowling a cricket 
ball. His sudden death while apparently in good health was a 
great blow to us, but as he was such a lover of cricket, I am sure 
he would have chosen this way to go. This meant a complete 
change of plans for me as I had to stay with my mother to fix up 
her affairs. We moved first to Herne Bay—where I shocked a 
good many of the local inhabitants by going out fishing in the 
roughest winter weather in a light canvas boat—then to New- 
ington, near Sittingbourne, where we rented a lovely house in its 
own grounds. As my brother came to stay there too, I suppose 
it was only natural that we should rack our brains to do something 
to make ourselves independent. In those days there were private 
bus owners; in fact anyone could start up anywhere provided he 
passed the efficiency test and the authorities were satisfied that 
the bus, or buses, would not fall to pieces. The idea appealed to 
us, SO in answer to an advertisement we proceeded to London to 
inspect a second-hand single-decker bus. About the only thing in 
its favor was its cheapness. It was left to me to drive it home; and 
to perform this (to me) hair-raising feat, after only a few driving 
lessons, we left Town at 2 a.m. to avoid the traffic. Although 
empty, the old bus jibbed at all the steep hills, but she eventually 
arrived home hot and tired with steam belching from her 
“innards.” 
22 
