MAGALLANES 51 
our heads. . . . This over, they politely invited us to wash our hands 
with most excellent pumice soap. I tried to secure the recipe, but 
apparently they did not understand my Spanish. In the end we secured 
what is officially styled a “Cedula de identidad personal—Gabinete de 
identificacion”, or for short, a “Carnet”. This is a folded paper en¬ 
closed in a small leather case that cost 10 s. altogether (I could have 
got a cheaper Carnet for 35. in a cardboard case, but plunged on the 
more expensive one as being more likely to impress any policeman who 
might want to run me in). It appears that, armed with a Carnet such 
as this, you can do anything you like in Chile. The document within 
contains a full face photo of myself, a print of my right thumb (pulgar)^ 
and certain particulars of a private nature likely to be useful to the 
police. The most interesting is my name written as Senor Walter 
Spencer-Circuit, the latter being the maiden name of my mother. 
It seems as if these Chilean folk count descent in the female line just as 
they do in some of the most primitive tribes in Australia. There is one 
line devoted to personal peculiarities, to discover which they had 
scrutinized us most carefully. Mine contains the words “no tiene”, 
which means, colloquially speaking, “he ain’t got none”.’ 
From Saturday April 13 until Saturday, May 4, remained 
at Magallanes in Hotel Cosmos, owned by Juan Toth y Cia. 
Account of the voyage to Magallanes. 
Care of Anglo-South American Bank, 
Magallanes, Chile, April 24, ig2<). 
My dear Balfour, 
After a somewhat protracted voyage of ten weeks on a cargo 
frozen mutton steamer—I arrived here. ”1 his place used to be called 
and still is called on most maps Punta Arenas; it has now changed its 
name to Magallanes, and is quite an interesting spot. As my boat, the 
‘Tudorstar’ (Blue Star Line), did not officially carry passengers, owing 
I think to the fact that a higher rate of port dues is charged to passenger 
ships, I had to be ‘signed on’ at a place on the wharf in Newcastle 
where they pick up seafaring men who are in search of a job, and 
suddenly found myself elevated to the rank of ‘Purser’, which 
fortunately included the possession of the Purser’s cabin, the best on 
the boat, with plenty of room to move about in. As there were no 
duties attached to the office, I carried them out with perfect satisfaction 
