RECREATION. 



took our meals at the second table — 

 second only in point of time, not in the 

 quality of food. We were all seated at 

 one table, at the head of which was a 

 vacant chair, and after awhile who 

 should take possession of it but our 

 polar bear of a captain. 



For sixty odd years people of all 

 kinds and characters have been hammer- 

 ing into me the necessity of a wholesome 

 respect for authority ; and, consider- 

 ing the circumstances, I think the lesson 

 has been pretty well learned, though 

 I regret to say there are some men so 

 blind as not to agree with me on this 

 point. All travelers know that a cap- 

 tain on his ship is as great an autocrat, 

 if he wants to be, as the Czar of Russia 

 on his throne. I was hence somewhat 

 surprised to see this captain, after he had 

 taken off his gold-banded cap, and 

 seated himself, salute the assembled 

 diners with a nod and a smile, as if he 

 looked upon us as almost human beings. 

 He even addressed a remark or two to 

 those seated next to him. "Come," I 

 said to myself, " this is not his polar 

 bear side." After awhile, one of our 

 party, I think it was a lady, asked, 

 " Captain, when will we reach Victoria?" 

 He replied curtly and not verv defi- 

 nitely, and at once appeared very 

 hungry. "Here," I thought, "is the bit- 

 ters in the cocktail. The captain does 

 not like to talk of official matters when 

 there are so many other and better things 

 to talk of." 



We found our dinner better, much 

 better than we had been led to expect, 

 from the talk of others, and when we 

 left the table and climbed the stairs to 

 the upper deck, we paused on the first 

 landing to read a type-written paper, 

 posted on the large mirror into which 

 every one had to look in passing. This 

 proved to be an itinerary for twenty- four 

 hours, of our steamer's progress, and 

 was signed by the captain. One item 

 was " We reach Victoria at 9 o'clock to- 

 night." Ah ! ha ! Our polar bear does 

 not like to duplicate official information. 

 He places all that is necessary for us to 

 know where we cannot help seeing it, 

 and beyond that he does not care to 

 have us inquire. " Milk for babes." 



We go on deck and move forward to 

 take a look at Port Townsend. The 

 captain, with his banded cap on his 

 head and his official coat on, is walking 



grimly up and down the bridge. He has 

 evidently but one thought in his mind, 

 and the frigid way in which he says, 

 now and then, " port," or " starboard a 

 little," precludes the idea that he can 

 think of anything else than official busi- 

 ness. None but the most thoughtless 

 would dream, for a moment, of address- 

 ing him now, and if any one should he 

 would get no answer. He would be 

 chilled by a vacant stare and possibly a 

 " port a little." The polar bear is evi- 

 dently in charge of the deck. But after 

 a while our lines are all out and we are 

 securely fastened to the dock. Our bear 

 leaves his post, takes off his gold band- 

 ed cap and steps ashore. Meet him now 

 and he is as mild as mother's milk. Ask 

 him any question you please as to his 

 boat, and he will not only reply, but 

 will volunteer information. He will ad- 

 vise you where to go and will tell you 

 there is plenty of time — only come back 

 when the whistle blows. 



After awhile we leave Port Townsend 

 and plow our way out into Fuca straits. 

 But why do we keep so close to Whidby 

 Island ? One look at the captain, on the 

 bridge, is enough to show that we need 

 expect no information there. The notice 

 on the stairs may show. It does. "Touch 

 at Anacortes at 4." So we are not going 

 direct to Victoria, but are first to steam 

 through the beautiful group of San Juan 

 Islands and view the beauties of the 

 young Yankee town of Anacortes ; and 

 all this information is obtained without 

 having to wake up the bear in our cap- 

 tain. The look at the young town was 

 not of much interest, but steaming 

 through narrow straits and between the 

 beautiful islands, which we came so near 

 losing some forty years ago, was a treat 

 well worth the extra time. As we skirt- 

 ed along the shore of San Juan Island, 

 how natural to recall the bold stand 

 taken by that little captain of infantry, 

 with his handful of men, when he de- 

 fied a whole fleet of hostile vessels in 

 defence of the flag he himself so 

 viciously assailed years afterward. An 

 interval of only four years separates 

 Pickett of San Juan Island from Pickett 

 of Gettysburg ! 



We spent the night in the beautiful 

 land-locked harbor of Victoria, and the 

 next morning, as we steamed through 

 the channel, which was finally awarded 

 us by the Emperor of Germany, we 



