and ducking of all who have not passed the line before.  But our attitude was strictly Erastian, and the demigod retired discomfited to the second class, where from the sounds which arose he seemed to find more punctilious votaries.  On the 23rd we sighted a sail—­or rather the smoke of another steamer.  As the comparatively speedy ‘Dunottar Castle’ overtook the stranger everybody’s interest was aroused.  Under the scrutiny of many brand-new telescopes and field glasses—­for all want to see as much of a war as possible—­she developed into the ‘Nineveh,’ hired transport carrying the Australian Lancers to the Cape.  Signals were exchanged.  The vessels drew together, and after an hour’s steaming we passed her almost within speaking distance.  The General went up to the bridge.  The Lancers crowded the bulwarks and rigging of the ‘Nineveh’ and one of them waggled a flag violently.  An officer on our ship replied with a pocket-handkerchief.  The Australians asked questions:  ‘Is Sir Redvers Buller on board?’ The answer ‘Yes’ was signalled back, and immediately the Lancers gave three tremendous cheers, waving their broad-brimmed hats and gesticulating with energy while the steam siren emitted a frantic whoop of salutation.  Then the speed of the larger vessel told, and we drew ahead of the transport until her continued cheers died away.  She signalled again:  ’What won the Cesarewitch?’ But the distance was now too great for us to learn whether the answer gave satisfaction or not.

We have a party of cinematographers on board, and when they found that we were going to speak the ‘Nineveh’ they bustled about preparing their apparatus.  But the cumbrous appliances took too long to set up, and, to the bitter disappointment of the artists, the chance of making a moving picture was lost for ever; and indeed it was a great pity, because the long green transport, pitching in the sea, now burying her bows in foam, now showing the red paint of her bottom, her decks crowded with the active brown figures of the soldiers, her halyards bright with signal flags, was a scene well worth recording even if it had not been the greeting given in mid-ocean to the commander of the army by the warlike contingent which the need or convenience of the Empire had drawn from the Antipodes.

South of the line the weather cools rapidly, and various theories are advanced to explain the swift change.  According to some, it is due to the masses of ice at the Antarctic Pole; others contend that it is because we are further from the land.  But whatever the cause may be, the fall in temperature produces a rise in spirits, and under greyer skies everyone develops activity.  The consequence of this is the organisation of athletic sports.  A committee is appointed.  Sir Redvers Buller becomes President.  A two days’ meeting is arranged, and on successive afternoons the more energetic passengers race violently to and fro on the decks, belabour each other with bolsters, or tumble into unforeseen troughs of water to their huge contentment and the diversion of the rest.