The Pleasantville press. (Pleasantville, N.J.) 1912-1929, 1915-06-26
INTERESTING VOYAGE
TO SANTO DOMINGO
Mrs. Mcmahon Writes of Her
Trip and Various Sights
and Experiences.

lous voyages; to begin with, a fall of
snow joined in with the rain, and it
was a dreary New York that I had
my last goodbye look at. Even so,
l did not want to say goodbye.
Somehow or other New Jersey has a
tie that binds; bye and bye as the
ship began getting further to the sea
and l watched the pilot boat depart,
| began to think of how happy l
should be at the thought of all the
joys awaiting on a prospective beau
tiful sea-voyage. In preparation, I
went to my stateroom to get ready
for my first meal aboard-never did
get ready-just laid down and died
and kept on dying for three days.
The second night [ decided the boat
was sinking, the engines had stopped
entirely, and as my stomach rolled
skyward, as the boat went in that d.
rection, and then southwark, to what
we naturally think is south of the
sky, | became more and more sorry
for the sins of my life, until the
Chief Steward passing, heard the
weeping and sent the doctor to me.
He came, poor man, from his bed,
yawning, gave me something sooth-
ing, heard me murmur, "home was
never anything like this, assured me
that | would be better in another
day, which | was, and that part of
the journey was over. The rest was
very, very pleasant, met some de-
lightful people, the scenery was love-
ly, and | saw some of the ports that
the revolutionists had shot up. One
very sad thing occurred near the end
of the voyage. I was sitting on the
lower deck one afternoon, having tea
with the doctor and chief steward.
The bell neal US rang constantly and
always when the call was made the
doctor would say, 81 can do nothing
for him, boy, the mar is dying"
Later the man did die just after his
wife, a sad eyed, slouchy, ~bare-footed
Dominican girl with three barefoot
ed babies clinging to her, had bought
a basket of white grapes on ship
board in the hope of tempting her
poor mans appetite. That evening |
sat above, | heard the tramping of
feet, then the crying of g woman and
children and | knew the hastily made
coffin vas being placed in that part
of the vessel just beneath me. A
fish about that time decided to spring
out of the water, then came the dark
ness all about, as night always comes
in the tropics-no bluey-grey twi-
light between-and | decided with a
spring, too) to go to my stateroom
and turn OF the lights, where | could
read if I couldn't sleep.
Next day we made another of those
picture ports, that make one think
they are reading poetry instead of
looking out of two American rather
business-like grey eyes There are
some home, whom | know, will surely
get that, and al usual just as one
was wondering what would ghyme
with sapphire threaded with pearly
crimson glow and some green, a poor
dirty crippled man brought aboard,
the doctor expostulating with tongue,
hands and shoulders, truly Spanish
fashion. This crippled man, it was
told by those who brought him
aboard, had merely been shot in the
leg during the Revolution and simply
needed attention when we arrived at
the Capital. l received an invitation
with others, to behold the simplicity
of the wound. l refused, but after
wards was told that part of the bone
in the limb had been removed-about
two inches-and it was supposed to
knit. Even the doctor was excited
over the matter and said the mar
would eventually have to lose his en-
tire leg. Next we arrived at the
Capital, one of the oldest cities in the
New World. Right at the Pier was a
great tree, which tourists are told
Columbus tied his boat to upon land
ing on these shores. Just a little in
the distance are big, crumbling build
ings that Columbus and his follow
ers favored with their presence. 1t
is said, too, that Columbus is buried
here, but that claim is made by other
West Indies also. There is no phone
connection between San Isidro and
the Capital, so | had to stay a day and
night longer aboard ship, while the
messenger took a fifteen mile horse
back ride to tell my husband the Iro-
quois was in Portland me. In the
afternoon we drove out to the home
of the gentleman who has charge Of
the Plantations Santo Domingo
City's affairs, to get the reply; it had
not yet arrived, so we took a further
ride behind a horse that wandered
from n side of the road to the 9TH
er. and which | expected to drop dead
every moment. I was told it was a
typical coach horse, going the typical
gait. The funniest part of the per-
Torrance is a big bell which the driv-
ers constantly sound, (and which
make more noise than an auto horn),
warning passers-by of their approach.
One could escape most anything in
just one of the zigzags made by horse
and carriage. Something else that
made me ask, "What on earth does
that mean?" was a graveyard we
passed, lit up with innumerable Ian
terms. Each mound had a lantern
hung above, so that the one resting
beneath the earth, would not be
afraid in the loneliness and darkness
of night. The sentiment rather ap-
pealed to me, who always has had a
fear of that part of the Beyond. At
night the rider returned from the Es-
tate with the chiefs letter and the
next day the Plantations launch
brought he and the managers wife,
who came to town to do the Christ