Jerry. Here was one thing he could do, at any rate! His recitation of
"Gunga Dhin" brought tears to our eyes, and thereafter no programme was
complete without this item.

Toward the end of the voyage the concerts lost popularity, as there
were only three or four artists; and there was no stock of music on
board, so their two or three songs became as wearisome as a much-played
gramophone record. The boxing and wrestling matches always held the
crowd, and there was no lack of competition, for the runner-up was
always _sure_ that he would have won but for bad luck and was ever
ready for another try. These were no "pussy" shows, for we had some
professionals among us: "Sailor Duffy," one of our second lieutenants,
was middleweight champion of Victoria, and one of the ship's crew was
champion wrestler of London. There were others who required
convincing, at any rate, that they were not as good as the champions,
and anyway there were always plenty of disputes during the day that by
general consent were settled in the ring at night. This was how we
passed the long weeks to Colombo, our first port of call.

To the white man having to make his home at Colombo it may not be
paradise, but to the sea-weary landlubber who has been weeks without a
sight of land, there never was place more delightful. The first day we
weren't allowed ashore, but there were other troop-ships lying in the
harbor, and soon pretty well every man who could find a footing on the
rigging was semaphoring like mad: "Who are you? Where'd you come from?
Where are you going?" We discovered one boat was full of New
Zealanders and we coo-eed and waved wildly to them, feeling that New
Zealand ought to be part of Australia, anyhow, and they were almost
homelanders. There were also some Indian troops bound for the Persian
Gulf, and immediately the rumor started that that was where we were