S.S. "Victorian" (between Cape Town
and Durban), February 1901.

Just as we got in sight of St. Helena on February 2nd our engines broke down, and we had to lay to for some hours while they were being repaired.

Then, as we steamed slowly up to the anchorage, H.M.S. Thetis signalled to us that our Queen had died on January 22nd; so we ought to have been singing "God Save the King" for the past eleven days.

The men were all joking and playing games, &c., when the news came, and then there was such a hush of sorrow on the boat, and all the games were put away. We were at St. Helena all the next day while the repairs were going on. The Mongolian arrived with 600 Boer prisoners, and last week they had 1300 from Simon's Town. Since we were last here some of the prisoners had made an attempt at escape, and they had also had a nasty mutiny amongst the men of the West Indian Regiment, who were stationed there.

We anchored in Table Bay, after a very uneventful voyage (with no work in the hospital, except five cases of German measles), on February 8th, but did not get alongside till the following evening; and then (as we were receiving fresh orders about every half hour) we stayed quietly on board till the 11th—when the Canada was sailing again.

The only thing that was definite was that the medical officers and sisters who had been in Natal before were to return to that command, but how to get there was a different matter; the ship by which they proposed to send us by was not yet in, and it seemed likely that when the Canada left we should remain on the wharf sitting on our boxes.

Sister —— and I were the only sisters who had been in Natal before, so we saw the others off by train for Pretoria and Elandsfontein.

Then the City of Vienna came in, and she was so full she could only just take on the medical officers, and Sister and I had to wait to go by some other boat; but we were told we could go out to Wynberg and lodge at the hospital till they could find berths for us, leaving our heavy baggage in store at the docks.

There we were kept waiting ten days for a ship, and had a very dull time of it, as we were afraid to go to any distance in case any sudden orders came for us.

Wynberg is a very pretty place in pine woods; but the huts were infested with creatures, so that sleep was difficult, and though we are neither of us very particular about our food, it was so badly served and dirty that we could not enjoy it.

I can't understand about the mess, as the sisters have to pay all their allowance of 21s. a week for food, and don't get anything like such good food as we had at a cost of 14s. or 15s. a week (though the actual cost of food is less at Cape Town), and they have no variety. There were some Pretoria sisters staying there to recruit after enteric, and I felt so sorry for them, as the food was absolutely unsuitable for convalescents; and they told me they had been very well cared for all the time they were ill at Pretoria, and so they were missing the careful feeding they had been used to.

Of course we did not get to know really very much about the hospital, as we were not on duty, and were only "lodgers," but a sister who came out with us was on duty, and was not at all happy; there were so many petty rules for the sisters that they seemed to spend their time in trying to evade them—not a good hospital tone.

We found no news at all in the Cape Town papers, but certainly the war does not seem likely to be over just yet; they say all civil traffic and mails north of De Aar have been stopped.

There was a rumour that there were Boers within thirty miles of Cape Town, so all the Boer prisoners were being sent away from Simon's Town. Some naval guns have been mounted on the "Lion's Head" (a part of Table Mountain), and the Town Guard were sent up there in watches, as well as some of the regulars.

The Town Guard were most energetic and constantly drilling. One day I wanted to speak to one of the Customs' men, and found they were all drilling with their rifles in the Customs' shed, and the Customs' business had to wait.

Then, of course, you will have heard there was plague in Cape Town, and there was some alarm lest it should get amongst the soldiers, and cripple us in that way; but they seem to be attacking it in an energetic way, and so far it is practically confined to the coloured people.

As usual it started among the rats on the South Arm at the docks; large numbers of them died, and the rest went off in a body to Green Point, at which place there is a large military camp, so that the sanitary officials were rather anxious.

Then the natives got frightened, and wanted to go home; but the Government stopped that by not allowing any of them to travel by train, except with special permits; this was partly to prevent their spreading the plague about the country, and also because it would have been difficult to get the dock work done if the natives had cleared.

At the same time a large native location is being built on the Cape flats (where they will all have to live), and a light railway to bring them into their work.

Rats are being bought for threepence each, and several hundreds of their bodies are being cremated daily at the gasworks.

At last we went into Cape Town and saw the P.M.O., but he said he could not say when we should get on; so we went on to our friend the embarkation officer, and told him that if there was no transport coming soon, we would pay our own passage to go up to Natal by a mailboat rather than waste more time at Wynberg; but he promised we should get a ship before the next mail and save our money, which we were glad enough to do; but my private opinion is that we should have been waiting at Wynberg still if we had not gone into Cape Town and agitated about it!

We paid a visit to the Yeomanry Hospital at Maitland, where a brother of Sister's was in as a patient (but getting better), and I found several old friends on the staff there.

At last, on the 20th, we received orders to join the Victorian at Cape Town. It was pouring with rain, but Sister —— went off at once to find a cab, while I hastily packed up, paid our mess bill, &c. Before she got back, there was a telephone message to tell us to hurry, as the ship was going soon; we bundled our things on to the cab, and just managed to catch a train at Wynberg, which (by good luck) was an express, as most of the trains loiter about at all the suburban stations.

At Cape Town we hastily cabbed to the P.M.O.'s office for orders, but were told to go straight down to the ship; at the dock gates I sent Sister on with our small things to the ship, to say we were coming, while I went to the agents, and was lucky in finding an empty trolley, and getting them to tumble our heavy baggage on to it, though they said it was too late for the Victorian, as she had been hooting for some time; however, I got on to the waggon and rattled down to the South Arm. There I found Sister —— looking very melancholy, as they told her on board we were not expected, and there was no room for us, and "where were our written orders?"

Of course we had no written orders, as all had been by telephone; but I did not mean to be left behind, so, taking my bag, and telling Sister to bring hers, I bundled up the gangway, which they were on the point of removing, and asked to see the C.O., telling them that I did not mind a bit if there was no cabin, but that we could travel on deck! Just then the embarkation officer came bustling along, and said that he had thought we could not get down in time, but that it was all right, and they had got to make room for us! So some soldiers soon carried our baggage on board, and as our last box came on the embarkation officer went off, and we were away.

The cabins were really all full, but, after some delay, two poor young officers had to double in with some others and give us their cabin.

The Victorian is rather a grubby boat—a cattle-boat when she is at home. There are two hundred Boer prisoners on board, going up to a place near Ladysmith; four of them are officers, who are berthed on the upper deck, but don't mess with us. They seem quite a superior sort (one of them was a Commandant), and they are very polite to us, always ready to move our chairs, or to do anything to help us.

There are about twenty officers in the saloon, and one officer's wife.

The ship is not accustomed to having any ladies on board, but every one is very good to us, and the stewards are most attentive (there is no stewardess).

I sit next to the C.O., a Colonel from Australia, who had had a bad fall from his horse, and is going back to Australia for the voyage to recruit (this boat is going to take time-expired men from Durban to Australia, and will return with a full load of men and horses from there); he and his son have both been fighting out here.

Just lately he has been a patient in the hospital where we have been lodging, and he speaks very plainly about the bad management there, after he had been very well nursed in another hospital up-country.

There is a very pleasant, and very Irish, R.A.M.C. Major in medical charge. He has had a rough time trekking about with his regiment for the last fifteen months, and is now going for the trip to Australia to recruit after fever; he wants us to go with him, as they will probably send a couple of sisters, and we already have the promise of "a good time" in Australia while the ship is there; Sister says she would like to go, but I would like to see this show through first.

The officer's wife has been in her cabin sea-sick all the way, so we have had to look after her a bit. It has been a little rough, but even Sister —— has kept well—we conclude because we had been doing a compulsory fast in consequence of the bad feeding at Wynberg before we came on board! We should have thought the feeding on this boat very poor after the Canada, but it is first rate after Wynberg.

We shall soon be at Durban now, and then they say we may have to be quarantined outside for ten days (on account of the plague at the Cape), but we hope our services may be so urgently required at the front that they may forget to quarantine us!