ADVENTURE ON THE SOUTH SEAS

The third instalment of the unexpurgated 1939 diary of Sir Charles Mappin

31 August Sea and wind dead against us. Making only two knots. Infuriating to see Rapa only 25 miles away and taking 10 hours to get there. Arrived at 10 o'clock and lay off for the night.

1 September Pirogues started coming off to see us at 6.30 a.m. We are beginning to feel the cold and I am wearing a coat and shoes for the first time for nine months. The island is very beautiful, mountain- ous, the highest peak being about 3,000 feet, wonderful vegetation for sheep and cattle, and plenty of water. The inhabitants consist of 150 men and 130 women. The women are Amazons of the strongest breed, and even Lew doesn't think he could go more than three rounds with any of them.

We had breakfast on board and caught one of the many sharks that were swimming around the boat; having decapitated him with an axe, we threw him back to his brothers, who ate him with obvious relish.

Le Conte de Verney came aboard after breakfast, a strange gentleman who has been out here for eight years. We were the first schooner that had been to the island for over a year. He was very interesting about the island and very funny about France and its government.

The first thing of interest he told us was the health statistics. Out of 280 inhabitants, there are 40 TB cases, 10 lepers, and 120 syphilitics. There are only 10 women on the island without syphilis. The last schooner that arrived left 20 new cases, and he says he has very little doubt that our schooner will do the same. In 1935 he took 40 leper cases to the colony in Tahiti and there are already 10 more. He is waiting for the government naval training boat to come and collect them. He acts as a doctor to the natives since the Frenchman's government won't send a doctor because it costs 3,000 francs a month. When the Governor of Tahiti came down here about two years ago he asked him if he couldn't get the govern- ment to do something for the lepers. The governor's reply was that they had already sent six blankets and six pareus, and noth- ing more could be done. Verney considers the entire French gov- ernment are sons of bitches, and I think he is just about right. For some unknown rea- son they won't allow sheep-farming on the

Third portrait of a Polynesian beauty, commissioned by Sir Charles Mappin island, for which it is absolutely ideal. A lovely island with endless opportunities for every kind of farming is just allowed to waste. The French are punks, I regret to say.

We met the only other European here, a French Canadian by the name of Jans who has been here for 18 years and is quite defi- nitely half nuts. All he can say is: 'I am marooned. Can't get away. Can't get away. Just as well. Just as well.' He is over 70, has a native wife, and is still breeding children. Verney stayed for lunch and we gave him some toothpaste, which was what he had missed more than anything for the last year. The island was out of rice, sugar and flour, so we were a very welcome sight on the horizon.

After lunch, Bryan, Simone and myself went for a walk followed by about a dozen native children. Simone was very amusing teaching children French. Verney came aboard for dinner and became very talkative after rum punch and red wine. He told us his version of Von Luckner's raids on the Pacific Islands during the war, and was extremely funny about his sons of bitches. He and the Captain nearly came to blows as to who was the most likely to find me a really attractive girl with a very low percentage of syphilis. I took no chances of drawing one of the lucky ten.

2 September Spent the morning trying to get the launch to work, but no-luck until after lunch, when Bryan, Simone and myself went fishing. Although I had the rod most of the time Bryan got the only fish, a 40-lb yellow bass. We kept Simone amused coming back by singing the 'Eton Boating Song' and the 'Song of the Volga Boatmen' in high falsettos. Dinner, gramophone and bed.

3 September I was kept awake last night by such things as the sailors fucking on deck, the Chinese cook setting fire to his blankets, Lew and Madou leaping into each other's bunks every half-hour, and Bryan making such remarks to Simone as `Comme je travaille pour faire jouiller, sacre cochon!'

Lew and I climbed a mountain after breakfast and Simone and Bryan rode round the island. Had a long talk with Jans, who told me he had been a drug addict for 14 years, and showed me his arm, which resembled a well-used pin-cushion.

Our French friend again arrived for lunch. I regret to say he is getting on my tits. I object to being considered a cunt, especially about figures. He informed us he was born in 1903 and in the same breath said nobody could tell him anything about the war because he saw plenty of it. It didn't take me long to work out that Armistice Day was just about his fifteenth birthday. The only decoration in his coconut-frond house is a framed engraving of the family coat of arms. Jans loathes him and describes him as 'that Frenchman who calls himself a nobleman'. Rather childish of them to dislike each other when there is no one else to talk to year in and year out.

We left for Mangareva at 5 o'clock, and will probably be at sea for five days. We are going to an island called Aana on the jour- ney home. I shall obviously do a Mappy pathetic or stay there for the rest of my life.

I am very nearly ready now for a Clewer Hill cure.

4, 5, 6, 7 September For three days I haven't been able to write at all owing to the weather. The seas have been terrific and we have done everything except actually turn over. The first day the flying jib left the mast like a handkerchief leaving a stick. Five minutes later the jib split from top to bottom with a noise like ripping emery paper. We have been below all the time, lying in our bunks with the floor covered in a mess of suitcases, broken crockery, trading goods, bottles, and those parts of the various meals we couldn't get into our stomachs. Just going to the rears was a very hazardous feat, as it consists of a construction built over the stem of the boat. Bryan says those three days were the only days he wanted to shit properly on the whole trip.

This morning at three o'clock the launch started sliding and the crew had to be roused from their slumbers to fasten it down again. Eight of our chickens were drowned, and altogether the whole thing was a gigantic misunderstanding. The Cap- tain told me this morning that the boat was built in 1931, has been on the reef twice, and once just sank in the harbour for some unkown reason. Bryan told a story last night that made me giggle. Somebody went to the Governor and asked if it was permis- sible to start a brothel in Papeete. The Governor replied, 'If you care to build a wall round the town, there is your brothel.'

Great excitement after lunch today: a whale about 30 feet long followed the boat for about an hour. We hope to reach Man- gareva tomorrow evening and try our luck with the Mangareva fish, which we are told are large and plentiful.

8 September A quiet day at sea. Wind and current against us. Averaging about 2'/2 knots.

Not so quiet at dinner time. Madou and

Simone decided to be tiresome, so they hid the eau-de-cologne, the only thing which keeps us smelling at all wholesome, as we are short of water. So I hid their make-up, combs, mirrors etc. in the ship's safe, and informed them I had hidden something they would need in the morning, and that I should not return it until after we left Man- gareva unless the eau-de-cologne was pro- duced in 15 minutes. All very childish but very amusing at the time.

It didn't take long for them to find out what it was. For five minutes while we con- tinued reading our books Madou pulled a bluff that make-up and mirrors meant nothing in her sweet life. But as time began to run out, it entered her head that perhaps she would have to land at Mangareva unadorned.

In the meantime, Marcel, the steward, had laid the table. In one fell swoop Madou seized the soup plates and threat- ened to smash them unless her sac was returned. We continued reading, and every time a plate whizzed across the cabin, Bryan, without looking up, handed her another. When my head was dizzy with avoiding plates, and we were up to our ankles in crockery, I decided drinking soup in our fingers was going to be most incon- venient, and exchanged cosmetics for per- fumery with honours easy. Lew got all the blame for it because she didn't credit me with the intelligence of thinking of the safe. We retired to bed on a friendly footing, but

I feel somehow Simone is not satisfied.

9 September We only averaged Ph knots during the night, and we are doing about the same today. Land should have been in sight early this morning, and it is now 5 o'clock with- out any sight of it. As there is no chronometer on board we are unable to find our longitude, and as far as I can see we are slightly unaware of our position. There is one saving grace: if we keep going Eeast we are almost certain to hit Chile. Water and firewood are also at their lowest ebb. I see the Captain has kept a demijohn of water in his cabin, so maybe we shall soon be having it rationed.

10 September It is now quite certain the Captain has absolutely no idea where we are. I didn't help things this morning by suggesting he took the chart and started shading in the bits where we probably were not. We kept going all night in case we saw land (it was pitch dark and no moon. I personally failed to see the point), and we have now turned round and are returning whence we came, hoping to see land some time or another. There is no wind, and the engineer is not at all happy about the landing. I will probably send you a Christmas greeting in an empty gin bottle. I apparently made a cunt of myself this morning by saying we couldn't have turned round because I went to sleep facing the bows, and woke up in the same position. I haven't quite worked it out yet.

11 September Continued in the same direction hoping for the best. At 8 o'clock we saw an island, and presumed it was Mangareva. We heaved to for the night, looking forward to landing in the morning.

12 September An eventful day. The Administrator (the Captain's cousin) came on board at 8 o'clock, and told us war had been declared ten days before. At least we could be grate- ful for 10 days of a fool's paradise. We drowned the news in whisky, and went ashore to read the wireless reports of the Administrator cum wireless operator. We wired Rupert for news, and received a typi- cal answer, 'War progressing favourably'. Bryan didn't seem too surprised, but I must say I never expected it so soon.

We lunched with Francis (Administra- tor) and Liza, his wife, a very handy morsel. After lunch, Bryan, Simone and self went to see the cathedral with the padre of Mangareva who came out with me on the Ville d'Amiens. He asked after my cabin companion on the boat, but I didn't explain that having been fluted by my girl- friend he returned on the same boat.

In the evening Bryan and I went fishing. There were many coloured strange-looking denizens of the deep, but barely big-game fish. The natives are terrified of an enor- mous shark in the lagoon that has been attacking canoes, so much so that they won't go fishing themselves. We have promised to try and catch it for them tomorrow when we have shot a goat for bait. We dined with Francis and Liza, and I celebrated the 'sinking of the Mappin wagon somewhere in the Pacific'. Slept ashore.

To be continued . . .