36 A COLLECTING TRIP 
ask him to kindly move on. They all drink too much 
for this climate. On the whole, the women are worse 
than the men. There are, however, a few on board 
who have traveled a great deal and who are both in- 
teresting and agreeable. 
Since I have begun to write the sea has become 
wider; I can hardly see the shores and this letter may 
close as topics to discuss begin to grow scarce. We 
have seen Mt. Sinai in the distance and will soon be 
off Jiddeh where the pilgrims disembark for holy 
Mecca. We do not stop now until we get to Aden, on 
the south coast of Arabia. This letter will start for 
you from there. 
The crew of this ship are an interesting looking 
lot, Laskars from Chittagong or Karachi. They dress 
in gaudy colors and wear large turbans. They are in 
charge of a boatswain of their own color who orders 
them about by blowing a funny little flute-like whistle. 
While at work they keep bawling in Hindustani to the 
full strength of their lungs. The table stewards are 
from Goa, a Portuguese possession in India. They 
understand very little English and speak less. You 
never saw such a villanouslooking lot of ruffians as are 
the Arabs who came on at Port Said to work in the 
eargo, mails, ete. They yell and fight all the time. 
Some of them had no clothes on, excepting a few rings 
on their toes and in their ears and a sort of filthy 
drapery about them, but, unlike Robinson Crusoe 
in the song, there was no heavenly smile. 
Well, it is tea time, so good bye. Love to all from 
Your affectionate son, 
Tom. 
