We were now well to the south of Africa, in the roaring forties, and we saw many schools of whales, and albatrosses accompanied us for many days. A Spanish officer shot one one day--we told him this would bring us bad luck, as the souls of lost sea captains are said to inhabit these majestic birds. And one day we saw a dead whale floating along not far from the ship--it was smothered with a huge flock of seabirds, gorging themselves on it. By December 1st we had begun to steer north-west, and on the 3rd the Captain informed us we were the nearest we should ever be to Cape Town, the port to which I had set out. On this morning the Captain said to me, "Mr. Trayes, didn't you say you were going to Cape Town?" "Yes," I replied. "Come out on deck with me," he answered. I went with him. He took my arm, and said, "There it is," pointing in its direction. We were then 150 miles off! We met the _Wolf_ again on the 5th, and travelled in her company during the remainder of that day and the next two, stopping as usual for communication and the sending of stores to us in the evenings just before sunset. Often when the ship stopped Lieutenant Rose would go aboard the _Wolf_, another Lieutenant boarding us and remaining in charge during his absence. The _Wolf_ on this occasion told us she had sunk the American sailing vessel _John H. Kirby_ from America to East London with a cargo of four hundred motor-cars on board, when two days from her destination, the officers and crew being taken on board the _Wolf_. Many people in South Africa would have to dispense with their motor joy-rides at Christmas in consequence. The evening of December 7th was the last occasion we saw the _Wolf_ for many days. The two ships now shaped a course for the Brazilian Island of Trinidad, where it was understood the _Wolf_ would coal from her prize, and with her spend the Christmas holidays. CHAPTER VII CHRISTMAS ON THE "IGOTZ MENDI" It must not be supposed that the life of the prisoners on the _Igotz Mendi_ in any way approximated to that of passengers on an ordinary passenger ship. To begin with, there were no ship's servants to wait on us with the exception of the Spanish steward, a youth who "waited" at table and excelled in breaking ship's crockery. Often he poured the coffee over us, or into our pockets, instead of into our cups, and on one occasion, during a heavier roll than usual, he fell down in the middle of the saloon while carrying a tureen full of soup. It went flying over the saloon and some of its occupants, so our soup ration was short that day.