Of Guam I can only say that it struck me as the most desolate spot I had ever seen.  It stays in my memory as a long peninsula, or spit of land, running out into the sea, with a ten or twelve-foot bank above, fringed with ragged cocoanut trees.  Back of this the land rose gradually into low hills.  There was a road leading to the town some eight miles inland, and four-mule ambulances dashed up and down this.  We had to anchor three miles off shore on account of coral reefs.  We had commissary stores to land, and our navigator captain lost his temper, because the only available lighter in Guam was smashed by a falling bundle of pig iron the first thing.  For a while the outlook for fresh provisions in Guam was a sorry one, for our captain vowed by all his saints that he would up anchor and away at four o’clock.  The glass indicated a change of weather, and he was unwilling to risk his ship in the labyrinth of coral reefs that encircles the island.  Fortunately a German tramp whaler dropped into harbor at this point for water, and some boats were obtained from her—­though I could never see why, for we had plenty of our own.  The unloading process went on briskly, and toward noon the U.S. gunboat Yorktown came in to pay a call; thus there were actually three vessels at one time in the harbor of Guam.

Such a repletion of visitors had never been known there.  The four-mule wagons seemed crazed with excitement.  The enthusiasm even spread to the natives, who hung about in dug-outs, offering to sell us cocoanuts, pineapples, and green corn.  Our captain kept his word, for at four o’clock we swung about and left Guam behind us.  Our passenger list was richer by several political prisoners who had been in exile and were returning to their native land—­whether for trial or for freedom, I have no knowledge.

Some five or six days later, it was rumored that we should pick up the light on the southeast coast of Luzon about midnight, and most of us stayed up to see it.  We also indulged in the celebration without which few passenger ships can complete a long voyage.  We had a paper and it was read, after which ceremonial the ship’s officers invited us to partake of sandwiches and lemonade in the dining-room.  The refreshments were considerably better than the paper, which was neither wise nor witty, but abounded in those commonplace personalities to which the imagination of amateur editors usually soars.

About 2 A.M., when yawns were growing harder and harder to conceal, the light made its appearance.  I counted three flashes and went below.

Next morning, we were hugging the coast of Albay abreast the volcano of Mayon, said to be the most perfect volcanic cone in the world.  It seems to rise straight from the sea; with its perfectly sloping sides and a summit wreathed in delicate vapors, it is worthy of the pride with which it is regarded by the Filipinos.