The day-to-day journal

Be sure to read all of this one, as it has some extra juicy parts. But they’re peppered about, so don’t skip.

Thur. Feb. 24: Talked to the new passenger — been mining engineering, new mining laws giving Gov't right to confiscate mines and equipment is scaring out foreign capital. Large gold mines, very large manganese and chromate (used in autos) mines, the former shipped to Japan. 

Says Quezon asked for independence to keep his bread buttered on both sides, is now afraid his bluff will be called. As soon as U.S. moves out, Japan will move in.

Side note: The Philippines was (and is) a land of mineral richness, and grabbing hands near and far have wrestled for it. This new passenger, the mining engineer, could be one of them. She could maybe find out by mining him for information. Get it??

When you Google ‘Quezon’, a place pops up first, but in 1938, Helen and the mining engineer were discussing a person named Manuel L. Quezon, who was the first Filipino president of the commonwealth of the Philippines, and who was very popular. And because of him, there is also now a place.

And Japan did indeed ‘move in’ a few years later, as they did a lot of places in the region then, but certainly not without a fight.

Sailed about 4:30. Had no escort like the Army transport that went out at noon with a bomber circling. Took some pictures of the harbor, warships, submarines. 

A U.S. sub came up asking who we were, were going (our 'not under command' signal was up).

Side note: I envision a Nessie like submarine scope slowly breaching the waters; its face slowly turning until it stops… and then zooms in on the M.S. Silverwillow, who is guilty of having a not under command light on. Wait though, how would an underwater vessel know if an abovewater vessels’s signal was up??

I don’t have the pictures she took, but the one below is from the same time and place.

Sat. Feb. 26 

Reduced speed last night to time arrival in Opon between boats, for there's only one wharf at the coconut oil refinery. Slid alongside before 8:00 a.m. Coconut oil hose into the deep tanks at once. 

Serenaded before breakfast by native boys with ukuleles — who sat and played most of the day. "Milk from contented coconuts, I suppose". Uke's from Y 1 up.

Side note: Is the ‘milk from contented coconuts…’ lyric part of their serenade?? Or a saying of some sort? The Internet is not being helpful.

Shag and I went ashore between raindrops on a picture taking expedition. Opon is a small village (3 towns on the island — Mactan where the Magellan monument stands). 

Bamboo houses, coconut trees very short, got an orange blossom (much sturdier and larger than U.S. ones) from a 7th day Adventist Mission. Pony carts, the train of small boys, "Beautiful Lady in Blue", "Maternity Center and puericulture". 

Side note: Opon is now Lapu-Lapu City.

The coconut refinery: take in 250T. copra daily, produces 170T. oil (storage tanks hold 340T.), 500 employees in 3 shifts year around. Buy whole nuts on % oil and water (by chemical tests). Climate here damp, 10% water, not millable. Kept under cover a month until lose 5% of water. Split nut, keep for month, crush twice, 2nd time to powder. Heated, oil pressed out in hydraulic press, refuse pressed into cakes, (removes extraneous matter & color) packed & shipped to Europe, cattle feed. For soap, oil mixed with 1% fuller's earth, 3% F.E. for white oil, shells for fuel. 

Side note: Coconut Refinement 301 (it’s like graduate level).

After lunch Sam, Ruth and I hired us to the town wharf, took an outrigger catamaran with blue sails (25 ft. long, 10 ft. outriggers, sail with 2 booms). Sailed across the bay to Cebu in an hour. Stood on the outrigger and dangled a foot. Grand sail. 

Side note: Dangling a foot off an outrigger catamaran whilst casually sailing off the Philippine’s in 1938 (at least the part before the war started) does sound grand.

To a club for some refreshment, shortly the Silverwillow arrived. First time I've seen her under way when I've not been on board. 

Sauntered around the town, saw the cross Magellan planted, the P.O., Int. Harvester Co., Shamrock Hotel, Colon St., the oldest in the Philippines, endless rows of shops with odds and ends of trash, narrow St's., Spanish architecture, iron grill work. 

Rain, but not enough to delay loading much. Copra arrives on truck in bags in slings, dumped into the hold, is removed in port by suction. The whole town smells of it. Breeds flys. Chief says they eat all the oil out of the winches.

Shag and I went walking, found a bollard to sit on and talked for hours. He proposed to me again this morning. Sign on a movie house, "Nothing Sacred" and good added shorts.

Side note: Proposed AGAIN?? She failed to mention the first time. All this news and her handwriting, in her personal journal, remains the same as everything else… all measured.

A robust paragraph about coconut refineries, followed by seven words about a marriage proposal, all the same type height, width, angle, and pen pressure. That and she mentions it calmly, right after a story about smelly winches.

The below isn’t the same text, but it shows the same consistency.

Alas though, we only have context as much as what’s in the journal, so nada about her feeeeelings about being proposed to AGAIN, so we must forge on… (but an element of romance and suspense makes for a Hollywood story, so thank you to Helen for keeping it coy).

Sun. Feb. 27: Walked ashore with Chief at 7 a.m. Very hot and glaring water and copra still loading. Lord Cochran, London, abaft us, has just been to Odessa under sealed orders. No pilot met the boat, "Mr. X" boarded when they landed, took on a cargo of guns, ammunition, planes, to Indo China, with each man receiving a bonus: Capt. $5000, Mate and Chief $4000, etc. thru each member on crew.

Side note: The USSR and China and Mr. X and guns and ammo and payouts?!?! The HMS Cochran (nee HMS Ambrose) was British. Just that year the boat went from being a passenger boat to a destroyer depot ship… one apparently up to shenanigans. Pirates??

Stopped at the race course — 8 a.m. to 6p.m. every Sunday — a dirt track in the stix, bamboo shelter for a grand stand, moth eaten looking ponies. 

Bridge of signs — natives brot out from the walls, dug their graves were shot so their bodies toppled in. The Spanish were full of tricks like that. The cemetery next to the hospital (for convenience, I suppose). 

The house on the hill started by an American, blatant and ugly, Y 30,000.

Side note: Each port stop in this story could be a case study in why colonialism is absolutely a beyond monstrous endeavor. Yet almost 100 years later it’s still in the dialog.

Back to the ship at 10:20, and Shag got what for not being on board at 10, tho we didn't sail until after 12 — passed Opon during lunch, tho I went out in time to see the Nordmark from Berlin drawing up for some coconut oil. She's a big freighter, fine looking ship. Last look at tropical islands with sundown for tonight we go thru straits, the last land before Pedro. Toward dinner time we ran into rain and fog... and we crawled thru the night.

Side note: Pedro is San Pedro, California, which will be their next (and last) stop!

Mon. Feb. 28: Hard rain and rough seas. Capt. on the bridge all night, sleeping today. Knit and read. Stopped rain except for showers, but the jack staff wavered up and down all day and into the night. 

Jim had p.m. off, got some information about Lloyds Registry Pimsoll marks, capacity of various tanks, etc. Discovered a Wodehouse in the library and read some to Shag in the evening. During the hardest rain our canvas protector on passenger deck went up.

Side note: Ah ha! We have discovered the context to the notes and illustrations below. So it was Helen as student (that is her handwriting) and Jim as professor. But then she’s sheltering with Mr. Shag (the repeat proposer of marriage) later, during the hardest of rains.

Onwards!