served in two sittings, was very rarely clean, and the habits of the
Captain's mongrel pup, born on the _Wolf_, did not improve matters.
_Something_ connected with the expedition had to be called "Luchs," so,
failing the _Hitachi_, the pup rejoiced in this name, and as he
frequently made the saloon so exclusively his own, it was often
appropriately named the "Salon de luxe." Poor Luchs! Every man's hand,
or rather foot--with the exception of the Captain's--was against him
(when the Captain was not looking!) on account of his reprehensible
behaviour. Many a sly kick was aimed at him, and when a yelp assured us
that the blow had struck home, one of us would exclaim, "Hooray for our
side!"; "our side" being all who suffered from his bad conduct. The
table "appointments" were often disgusting. The tablecloth was filthy
after the first meal or so, thanks to the rolling of the ship and
consequent upsetting of soup, tea, and coffee, but was only changed
twice, sometimes only once, a week. Cups were used without saucers, and
spoons gradually disappeared, so that towards the end one had to suffice
between four or five persons.

The ship, generally speaking, was filthy--she was never properly clean.
I remember on one occasion a large bottle of castor-oil was smashed just
outside the saloon door. The stuff remained there for hours before being
cleaned up. The crew certainly was not large, but a great deal more
could have been done in the direction of keeping the ship clean, and her
condition was never a credit to her Captain. This was a surprise to
those of us who had previously travelled on German ships.

We got thoroughly sick of the food provided, but the German officers and
crew had just the same. The _Hitachi_ had been carrying ten thousand
cases of Japanese canned crab to England. A great part of this was
saved, and divided between the _Wolf_ and her prize. None of us ever