Page 4. 
THE BLUE BONNET 
U.S.S. Houston 7-26-38 — 900 
“THE GALAPAGOS ISLANDS” 
by 
Waldo L. Schmitt 
(From Page 3.) 
coast of South America from the 
Antartic regions and turns westward 
off northern Peru to swing through 
the islands. 
Probably the most remarkable fea- 
ture of the islands and the one which 
drew visits from the whaling vessels 
is the abundance of tortoises on the 
islands. By making use of definite 
and specific records of tortoises taken 
as compiled by Dr. C. H. Townsend, 
Director of the New York Aquarium, 
it was observed that 13,013 tortoises 
were taken by seventy nine American 
vessels between the years 1831 and 
and 1868. At one time there were 
more than seven hundred vessels in 
the American Whaling fleet alone. 
There can be no questioning of the 
fact that the catch of the few ships 
whose records he was able to check 
represented but “a mere fraction of 
the numbers of tortoises actually 
carried away”. 
GOOD SHOT 
Roast suckling pig formed part of 
the President’s meal the other night. 
The trusty rifle of Lt.-Comdr. Kelley 
brought two wild porkers to their 
early finish when he unloosed two 
shots in their direction while ashore 
at Clipperton Island. The larger boar 
being too heavy to bring back to the 
ship was left on the island to serve 
as a silent warning to the rest of the 
pig population there. 
REVENGE 
“When I was a little child”, the ser- 
geant sweetly addressed his men at 
the end of an exhaustive hour of 
drill, “I had a set of wooden soldiers. 
There was a poor little boy in the 
neighborhood and after I had been 
to Sunday School one day listening 
to a stirring talk on the beauties of 
charity, I was soft enough to give 
them to him. Then I wanted them 
back and cried, but my mother said: 
“Don’t cry, Bertie, some day you’ll 
get your wooden soldiers back”. 
“And believe me, you lopsided, mut- 
ton-headed, goofus-brained set of cer- 
tified rolling pins, that day has come”. 
NEPTUNE’S WELCOME 
(From Page 1.) 
went up to flutter at the fore. On the 
second gun the Jolly Roger went up 
to the starboard main yardarm. Amid 
the call of the bugle, piping as he pass- 
ed through a rank of 8 officer-polly- 
wog sideboys, the ruffles and flourish- 
es, the tune of “The Old Gray Mare”, 
the “present-arms” from the marine 
guard of the day, the King was 
received with the pomp and glory 
befitting to his most royal and most 
regal personage. He was welcomed 
aboard by the Captain. 
There was a humorous glint in 
the King’s eye as he surveyed the 
lubberly crew of pollywogs. He rub- 
bed his hands together and called 
for his torturers. Then the fun start- 
ed. The “works” was given to the 
souls who had never before visited 
his realm. 
The gauntlet, the stocks, the coffin, 
the blessing, the charge— royal baby’s 
milk, pills, operating table, electric 
chair, barber chair, water tank— 
Neptune’s instruments of torture. 
When it was all over the pollywogs 
were accepted as fitting subjects of 
King Neptune-- Long may he rule. 
MULLET’S AWAY 
He adjusted his reel 
And tuned up his gear 
And sat himself down 
On his well known rear 
Pa caught fish 
On the end of a rod. 
In spite of the visor 
And called unto God. 
“A swordfish” my hearties, 
Pa gave him the line 
He sweated and fretted 
“This baby is mine”. 
Pa patted his stomach 
And laughed with elation, 
“Five hundred pounds 
Without dehydration”. 
The fish gave a last gasp, 
Pa swallowed his gullet 
He looked at his prize, 
He’d captured a mullet. 
So far, Proimos, traitor of the shell- 
backs, holds the honors of catching 
the biggest fish. A 120 lb. sea bass 
fell victim to his hook. 
THE STORY OF THE BARONESS 
AND HER LOVERS 
(From Page 3.) 
The baroness at once proclaimed 
herself ruler of the Galapagos. “The 
mad empress of the Islands and her 
court, living their tropic idyl of love 
in beautiful retirement”, Was the 
way the press put it. The two men 
fought each other to gain the amours 
of the Baroness. She egged them on. 
The fights finally ended with Phillip- 
son the victor. Lorenz, beaten and 
bruised by both the larger man and 
the Baroness, was forced to wait on 
them like a serf. 
But the discord did not end l^ere. 
The seif styled ruler, clad in brass- 
iere and silk shorts with a pistol 
swung from her doughty hips, drove 
away all newcomers. She shot at 
some, threatened others, and tolerated 
with some show of hospitality only 
the large parties which were stronger 
than her own. 
Finally, it all came to a tragic, 
inevitable end. The Wittmers rush- 
ed over one day to find only Lorenz, 
distracted and wild-eyed. He ex- 
plained that the Baroness and Phillip- 
son had just left “on an American 
Yacht.” 
Nearly eight months later (1934), 
the Santa Amaro, a Tuna Clipper 
out of San Diego, hove-to off March- 
ena. The skipper and part of the 
crew went ashore to investigate some 
rags which fluttered from atop a 
pole. They found an overturned boat, 
two corpses of men, and a half con- 
sumed iguana. Marchena, 160 miles 
north of Charles Island, has no fresh 
water. Lorenz and Nuggerud, Nor- 
wegian owner of the wrecked boat, 
had perished in a vain attempt to 
attract a passing ship. 
To this day nothing has been heard 
of or has anyone seen either the Bar- 
oness or Phillipson. Whether Lorenz 
slew both in their sleep, disposed 
of the bodies, then fled to a final 
reckoning is a matter of conjecture. 
Only the sun, moon, stars of these 
tragic islands, and destiny know the 
answer. 
REMEMBER: 
A grapefruit is only a lemon that 
saw a chance and took it. 
