Occasionally there are light gusts of controversy.  It is Sunday.  The parson proposes to read the service.  The captain objects.  He insists on the maintenance of naval supremacy.  On board ship, ’or at any rate on board this ship,’ no one but the captain reads the service.  The minister, a worthy Irishman, abandons the dispute—­not without regret.  ‘Any other clergyman of the Church of England,’ he observes with warmth, ‘would have told the captain to go to Hell.’

Then there is to be a fancy dress ball.  Opinions are divided.  On the one part it is urged that fancy dress balls are healthy and amusing.  On the other, that they are exceedingly tiresome.  The discussion is prolonged.  In the end the objectors are overruled—­still objecting.  Such are the politics of the State.

Inoculation against enteric fever proceeds daily.  The doctors lecture in the saloon.  One injection of serum protects; a second secures the subject against attacks.  Wonderful statistics are quoted in support of the experiment.  Nearly everyone is convinced.  The operations take place forthwith, and the next day sees haggard forms crawling about the deck in extreme discomfort and high fever.  The day after, however, all have recovered and rise gloriously immune.  Others, like myself, remembering that we still stand only on the threshold of pathology, remain unconvinced, resolved to trust to ‘health and the laws of health.’  But if they will, invent a system of inoculation against bullet wounds I will hasten to submit myself.

Yesterday we passed a homeward-bound liner, who made great efforts to signal to us, but as she was a Union boat the captain refused to go near enough to read the flags, and we still remain ignorant of the state of the war.  If the great lines of steamships to the Cape were to compete against each other, as do those of the Atlantic, by increasing their speeds, by lowering their rates, by improving the food and accommodation, no one would complain, but it is difficult to see how the public can be the gainers by the silly antagonism I have described.  However, the end is drawing very near, and since we have had a safe and prosperous journey criticism may well waive the opportunity.  Yet there are few among the travellers who will not experience a keen feeling of relief in exchanging the pettiness, the monotony, and the isolation of the voyage for the activity of great enterprise and the interest of real affairs:  a relief which may, perhaps, be shared by the reader of these letters.  Yet if he has found the account of a dull voyage dull, he should not complain; for is not that successful realism?

October 29.