This was not any too easy, because the war had disarranged sailings and there were not many ships touching at Cape Town. However, I soon saw in the paper that there was a freight steamer in port which was to sail direct to New York. I knew the skipper and telegraphed him that there was an emergency that required my sailing with him. "If you care to take a chance," he wired back, "join the ship as soon as you can." Just as I was leaving, Tuys reached Ermelo with a message from Lomwazi that Sebuza would be crowned within the next two months. This made me all the more anxious to be gone, and I left Tuys with the understanding that he would do his best to delay the coronation until I got back from New York. CHAPTER XIII I start for New York--The religious atmosphere on shipboard--"Flu" attacks the Javanese--The missionaries refuse to help--Sharks as scavengers--The little mother's end--Evils of liquor--Assembling my party in New York--Passage as freight--St. Lucia and a little excitement--The thin magistrate--Released on bail. When I reached the ship I found the reason for the captain's peculiar telegram. He had more than three thousand Javanese on board whom he was taking from the East Indies to Paramaribo, Dutch Guiana. From there he would go on to New York. These people were practically deck cargo, since there were no accommodations for them inside the ship. While making arrangements for my cabin, I found that there was a woman who also had to go to New York. Although my friend, the captain, objected, I gave up my cabin to her and agreed to share the cabin of an old Javanese gentleman who was supposed to be in charge of the others. He was very primitive and ignorant, but spoke Dutch fluently, and I learned a great deal about Java and the East Indies--that is, while he lived, which was not long. The first night out of Cape Town there were twenty-four of us at the long table in the saloon. All the officers ate with us, and there must have been sixteen or seventeen passengers all told. Most important of the passengers were seven American missionaries returning from their godly work in the waste places of Africa and the East Indies. They were most conspicuous at all times and did everything possible to keep table conversation confined to religious topics. I chummed with a Canadian who represented an American agricultural firm in South Africa, and we soon became weary of religion at all meals. "There's a place for everything in this world," he said one morning after breakfast, "but I'll be damned if I want to combine kippered herrings with my soul's salvation!" It was not long before both of us were in the bad graces of the missionaries, who did not hesitate to murmur that "it was no wonder that the savages did not heed the call of Christ when the white men of their country were so irreligious!"