It was on that afternoon that Basil at last lost his confidence in the permanence of the One Year Plan.
SIX
From Dame Mildred Porch to her husband.
S. S. Le President Carnot.
Matodi.
March 8th.
MY DEAR STANLEY,
I am writing this before disembarking.
It will be posted at Marseilles and should reach you as nearly as I can calculate on 17th of the month. As I wrote to you from Durban, Sarah and I decided to break our return journey in Azania. The English boat did not stop here. So we had to change at Aden into this outward bound French ship. Very dirty and unseamanlike.
Mildred.
Dame Mildred Porch’s Diary.
March 8th.
Disembarked Matodi 12.45. Quaint and smelly. Condition of mules and dogs appalling, also children. In spite of radio message British consul was not there to meet us. Quite civil native led us to his office. Tip five annas. Seemed satisfied. Consul not English at all. Some sort of Greek. Very unhelpful (probably drinks). Unable or unwilling to say when train starts for Debra-Dowa, whether possible engage sleeper. Wired legation. Went to Amurath Hotel. Positive pot-house. Men sitting about drinking all over terrace. Complained. Large bedroom overlooking harbour apparently clean. Sarah one of her headaches. Complained of her room over street. Told her very decent little room.
March 9th.
No news of train. Sarah disagreeable about her room. Saw Roman Missionary. Unhelpful. Typical dago attitude towards animals. Later saw American Baptists. Middle class and unhelpful because unable talk native languages. No answer legation. Wired again.
March loth.
No news train. Wired legation again. Unhelpful answer. Fed doggies in market place. Children tried to take food from doggies. Greedy little wretches. Sarah still headache.
March nth.
Hotel manager suddenly announced train due to leave at noon. Apparently has been here all the time. Sarah very slow packing. Outrageous bill. Road to station blocked broken motor lorry. Natives living in it. Also two goats. Seemed well but cannot be healthy for them so near natives. Had to walk last quarter mile. Afraid would miss train. Arrived with five minutes to spare. Got tickets no sleepers. Just in time. V. hot and exhausted. Train did not start until three o’clock. Arrived dinner time Lumo station where apparently we have to spend night. Shower bath and changed underclothes. Bed v. doubtful. Luckily remembered Keatings Durban.
Interesting talk French hotel manager about local conditions. Apparently there was quite civil war last summer. How little the papers tell us. New Emperor v. go-ahead. English advisor named Seal. Any relation Cynthia Seal? Hotel man seemed to doubt government’s financial stability. Says natives are complete savages but no white slave traffic—or so he says.
March 12th.
Awful night. Bitten all over. Bill outrageous. Thought manager decent person too. Explained provisions hard to get. Humbug. Train left at seven in morning. Sarah nearly missed it. Two natives in carriage. I must say quite civil but v. uncomfortable as no corridor and had left so early. Tiring journey. Country seemed dry. Due in Debra-Dowa some time this afternoon. Must say shall be thankful.
Dame Mildred Porch and Miss Sarah Tin were in no way related to each other but constant com-panionship and a similarity of interests had so characterised them that a stranger might easily have taken them to be sisters as they stepped from the train onto the platform at Debra-Dowa. Dame Mildred was rather stout and Miss Tin rather spare. Each wore a khaki sun-hat in an oilcloth cover, each wore a serviceable, washable frock, and thick shoes and stockings, each had smoked spectacles and a firm mouth. Each carried an attache case containing her most inalienable possessions—washing things and writing things, disinfectant and insecticide, books, passport, letters of credit—and held firmly to her burden in defiance of an eager succession of porters who attempted in turn to wrest it from her.
William pushed his way forward and greeted them amiably. “Dame Mildred Porch? Miss Tin? How are you? So glad you got here all right. I’m from the Legation. The Minister couldn’t come himself. He’s very busy just now, but he asked me to come along and see if you were all right. Any luggage? I’ve got a car outside and can run you up to the Hotel.”
“Hotel? But I thought we should be expected at the Legation. I wired from Durban.”
“Yes, the Minister asked me to explain. You see we’re some way out of the town. No proper road. Awful business getting in and out. The Minister thought you’d be much more comfortable in the town itself. Nearer the animals and everything. But he particularly said he hoped you’d come over to tea one day if you ever have the time.”
Dame Mildred and Miss Tin exchanged that look of slighted citizenship which William had seen in the eyes of every visitor he had ever greeted at Debra-Dowa. “I tell you what,” he said. “I’ll go and look for the luggage. I daresay it’s got stolen on the way. Often is, you know. And I’ll get our mail out at the same time. No King’s Messengers or anything here. If there’s no European travelling it’s put in charge of the guard. We thought of wiring to you to look after it and then we thought probably you had the devil of a lot of luggage yourselves.”
By the time that the two-seater car had been loaded with the legation bags and the two ladies there was very little room left for their luggage. “I say, d’you mind awfully,” said William. “I’m afraid we’ll have to leave this trunk behind. The hotel’ll fetch it up for you in no time.”
“Young man, did you come to meet us or your own mail?”
