Part 2

The next “lion” on board is Gov. Fook, returning from the Dutch West Indies, where he has been governing the islands and Dutch Guiana. The governor is a well-informed gentleman, and a splendid player of pinochle. The Dutch have the thrifty habit of making their colonies pay. They are not a “world power” and do not have to be experimenting with efforts to lift the white man’s burden. Their idea is that the West-Indian and the East-Indian who live under the Dutch flag shall work. The American idea is to educate and convert the heathen and pension them from labor. Our theory sounds all right, but it results in unhappy Filipinos and increased expense for Americans. The Dutch colonials pay their way whether they get an education or not.

One unfamiliar with modern steamship travel would think that the captain and his first and second officers were the important officials on board. They are not. The officers rank about as follows: 1st, the cook; 2nd, the engineer; 3rd, the barber, and after that the rest. The cook on an ocean steamer gets more pay than the captain, and is now ranked as an officer. The managing director of a big German company was accustomed on visiting any ship of their line, to first shake hands with the cook and then with the captain. When one of the officers suggested that he was not following etiquette he answered that there was no trouble getting captains and lieutenants but it was a darned hard job to find a cook. The cook has to buy, plan meals, supervise the kitchen and run it economically for the company and satisfactorily for the passengers, for over 2,000 people.

The barber is the man on the ship who knows everything for sure. Ask the captain when we will get to Rotterdam and he will qualify and trim his answer by referring to possible winds and tides, and he won’t say exactly. Ask the barber and he will tell you we will get there at 10 o’clock on Friday night. He knows everything going on in the boat, from the kind of freight carried in the hold to the meaning of the colors painted on the smokestack. During this voyage I have had more numerous and interesting facts than anybody, because I have not fooled with talking to the captain or the purser or the steward, but gotten my information straight from the fountain of knowledge, the barber shop. However, this is not peculiar to ships. The same principle applies at Hutchinson and every other town.

Ocean Currents

STEAMSHIP POTSDAM, July 21.

This is the eleventh day of the voyage from New York, and if the Potsdam does not have a puncture or bust a singletree she will arrive at Rotterdam late tonight. The Potsdam is a most comfortable boat, but it is in no hurry. It keeps below the Hutchinson speed limit of fifteen miles an hour. But a steamship never stops for water or oil, or to sidetrack or to wait for connections. This steady pounding of fourteen miles an hour makes an easy speed for the passenger, and the verdict of this ship’s company is that the Potsdam is a bully ship and the captain and the cook are all right.

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Nearly all the way across the Atlantic we have been in the Gulf stream. I have read of this phenomenal current which originates in the Gulf of Mexico and comes up the eastern coast of the United States so warm that it affects the climate wherever it touches. Then nearly opposite New England it turns and crosses the Atlantic, a river of warm water many miles wide, flowing through the ocean, which is comparatively cold. This stream is a help to the boats going in its direction, although it has the bad feature of frequent fogs caused by the condensation which comes when the warm and cold air currents meet. The Gulf stream is believed to be responsible for the green of Ireland and for the winter resorts of southern England. It goes all the way across the Atlantic and into the English Channel, with a branch off to Ireland. What causes the Gulf stream? I forget the scientific terms, but this is the way it is, according to my friend Mr. Vischer, formerly of the German navy. The water in the Gulf of Mexico is naturally warm. The motion of the earth, from west to east, and other currents coming into the gulf, crowd the warm water out and send the big wide stream into the Atlantic with a whirl which starts it in a northerly and easterly direction. The same Providence that makes the grass grow makes the course of the current, and it flows for thousands of miles, gradually dissipating at the edges, but still a warm-water river until it breaks on the coast of the British Isles and into the North Sea. Perhaps Mr. Vischer would not recognize this explanation, but I have translated it into a vernacular which I can understand.

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The Gulf stream reminds me of the Mediterranean. Not having much else to worry about, I have gone to worrying over the Mediterranean Sea. The ocean always flows into the sea. The current through the strait of Gibraltar is always inward. Many great rivers contribute to the blue waters of the great sea. There is no known outlet. Why does not the Mediterranean run over and fill the Sahara desert, which is considerably below the sea-level? Scientists have tried to figure this out, and the only tangible theory is that the bottom of the Mediterranean leaks badly in some places, and that the water finds its way by subterranean channels back to the ocean. What would happen if an eruption of Vesuvius should stop up the drain-pipe? Now worry.

Tonight we saw another phenomenon, the aurora borealis. It looked to me like a beautiful sunset in the north. We are sailing in the North Sea along the coast of Belgium, and the water reaches northward to the pole. The aurora borealis is another phenomenon not easily explained, but Mr. Vischer says it is probably the reflection of the sun from the ice mirror of the Arctic. And it does make you feel peculiar to see what is apparently the light of the sunset flare up toward the “Dipper” and the North Star.

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Some of our passengers disembarked today at Boulogne. This was the first time the Potsdam had paused since she left New York a week ago last Tuesday. This was the stop for the passengers who go direct to Paris. The Dutch who are homeward bound and those of us who think it best to fool around a little before encountering the dangers of Paris, continue to Rotterdam. We should be spending the evening with maps and guide books preparing ourselves for the art galleries, cathedrals, canals and windmills. As a matter of fact, we are wondering what is going on at home. There is a balance-wheel in the human heart that makes the ordinary citizen who is far afield or afloat turn to the thoughts of the home which he left, seeking a change.

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A smoking-room story: An American in a European art gallery was heading an aggregation of family and friends for a study of art. His assurance was more pronounced than his knowledge. “See this beautiful Titian,” he said. “What glorious color, and mark the beauty of the small lines. Isn’t it a jim dandy? And next to it is a Rubens by the same artist!”

The Dutch Folks

ROTTERDAM, HOLLAND, July 23.

It seemed to me unnecessary, but I had to explain to some friends why I was going especially to Holland. It is the biggest little country in the world. In art it rivals Italy, in business it competes with England, historically it has had more thrills to the mile than France, and in appearance it is the oddest, queerest, and most different from our own country, of all the nations of central Europe. Holland gives you more for your money and your time than any other, and that’s why I am back here to renew the hurried acquaintance with the Dutch made a few years ago.

Landing in Rotterdam was an experiment. The guide books and the tourist authorities pass Rotterdam over with brief mention. Baedeker, the tripper’s friend, suggests that you can see Rotterdam in a half-day. That is because Rotterdam is short on picture galleries and cathedrals. It is a great, busy city of a half-million people, and one of the most active commercially in the world. It is the port where the boats from the Rhine meet the ships of the sea. It is the greatest freight shipping and receiving port of northern Europe. It is the coming city of the north, because of its natural advantages in cheap freight rates. After looking it over hurriedly it seems to me to be one of the most interesting of cities. I am not going to run away from cathedrals and galleries. I am not intending to dodge when I see a beautiful landscape coming. But I have done my duty in the past and have seen the great cathedrals and the exhibitions of art. No one can come to Europe and not see these things once, for if he did he would not be able to lift up his head in the presence of other travelers. But he does not have to do them a second time. If I want to see pictures of Dutch ladies labeled “Madonna,” I will see them. If I don’t want to, I do not have to. In other words, if I go to the “tourist delights” it will be my own fault.

I would rather see the people themselves than the pictures of them. I want to observe how they work, what they work for, what their prospects are, and wherein they differ from the great Americans.

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Man made most of Holland. Nearly all of the country is below the level of the sea, much of it many feet below. All that keeps the tide of the North Sea from flooding the country with from ten to a hundred feet of water every day are the dikes which man has built. Behind these huge embankments lies a country as flat as the flattest prairie in Kansas. A few sandhills and an occasional little rise of ground might stick out of the water if the dikes broke, but I doubt it. This “made” land has been fertilized and built up by the silt of the rivers, added to by the labor and science of man, until it is a vast market garden. The water of the rivers is diverted in every direction into canals. There is no current to the rivers; the surface is too flat, and the fresh water is backed up twice a day by the ocean tides at the mouths. There are practically no locks and the movement of the water is hardly perceptible, except near the coast, where it responds to the advance and retreat of the sea. These canals are an absolute necessity for drainage, otherwise the country would be a swamp. Then they are used as roads, and practically all the freight is carried to market cheaply in canal-boats. The canals also serve as fences. The drainage water is pumped by windmills, which are then used to furnish power for every imaginable manufacturing purpose, from sawing lumber to grinding wheat. The cheap wind-power enabled the people to clear the land of water. So you see why there are dikes, canals and windmills in Holland: because they were the only available instruments in the hand of man to beat back the sea and build a productive soil. They were not inserted in the Holland landscape for beauty or for art’s sake, but because they were necessities; and yet great artists come to Holland to paint pictures of these practical things, and when they want to add more beauty they insert Dutch cattle and wooden shoes. All of which shows that the plain everyday things around us are really picturesque; and they are, whether you look at the sandhills along the Arkansas or the dunes along the North Sea.

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In this little country, containing 12,500 square miles of land and water, smaller than the seventh congressional district of Kansas, live almost 6,000,000 of the busiest people on earth. Their character may be drawn from their history. They first beat the ocean out of the arena and then made the soil. They met and overcame more obstacles than any other people in getting their land. And then for several centuries they had to fight all the rest of Europe to keep from being absorbed by one or the other of the great powers. They drove out the Spaniards at a time when Spain was considered invincible. They licked England on the sea, and the Dutch Admiral Tromp sailed up and down the Channel with a broom at the mast of his ship. They drove Napoleon’s soldiers and his king out of the country. They never willingly knuckled down to anybody, and they never stayed down long when they were hit.

The Dutch have for centuries been considered the best traders in Europe. They have the ports for commerce and they have the money. They own 706,000 square miles of colonies, with a population six times as large as their own. From the beginning they have been ruled by merchants and business men, rather than by kings and princes, by men who knew how to buy and sell and fight. They have been saving and thrifty, and can dig up more cash than any other bunch of inhabitants on the globe. They have sunk some money in American railroads, but they have made it back, and they always take interest. Market-gardening and manufacturing and trade have been their resources, and nothing can beat that three of a kind for piling up profits and providing a way to keep the money working.

Of course these characteristics and this environment have made the Dutch peculiar in some ways, and they are generally counted a little close or “near.” They habitually use their small coin, the value of two-fifths of an American cent, and they want and give all that is coming. They have good horses, fat stomachs, and lots of children. They are pleasant but not effusive, and they are as proud of their country as are the inhabitants of any place on earth. They believe in everybody working, including the women and the dogs. Their struggle with the sea never ends, and they follow the same persistent course in every line of development. They are so clean it is a wonder they are comfortable, and they believe in eating and drinking and having a good time, just so it doesn’t cost too much. They are a great people, and here’s looking at them.

In Old Dordrecht

DORDRECHT, July 23.

This is the oldest town in Holland, and once upon a time was the great commercial city. It is about fifteen miles from Rotterdam, and remember that fifteen miles is a long distance in this country. It is built upon an island; two rivers and any number of canals run around it and through it whenever the tide ebbs or flows. Good-sized ocean steamers come to its wharves, and until other cities developed deeper harbors Dordrecht was the Hutchinson of southwest Holland. And now let me explain that the people of this country do not call it Holland, but The Netherland. Originally Holland was the western part of the present Netherland. Dordrecht is in old South Holland. About nine hundred years ago the Count of Holland, who then ruled in this precinct, decided to levy a tax or a tariff on all goods shipped on this route, the main traveled road from England to the Orient. The other counts and kings and bishops kicked, but after a fight the right of the Count of Holland was vindicated, and he built the city of Dordrecht as a sort of customs house. This was in 1008. For several hundred years Dordrecht prospered and was known as a great commercial city. Then Antwerp, Rotterdam and Amsterdam came forward with better harbors, and Dordrecht took a back seat. But it has always been one of the important places in The Netherland. When William of Orange took hold of the revolution against Spain, the first conference of the representatives of the Dutch states was held in Dordrecht, and it was always loyal to the cause of Dutch freedom. The best hotel and restaurant in the city today is The Orange, named for the royal house which has so long been at the head of the Dutch government. My idea of a really important statesman is one for whom hotels and cigars are named centuries after he has passed away.

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This is Sunday, and I am forced to believe that the Dutch are not good churchgoers. We went to the evening service in the great cathedral. In fact, we went to the cathedral and suddenly the service began without our having time to retire gracefully. So we decided to stay, and in a prominent place was a list of the prices of seats. Some cost ten cents, some five cents, and some were marked free. I handed ten cents to the lady in charge, and we took two seats in the rear, which I afterward discovered were free. The women seem to run the church much as they do at home. The Dutch hymns were not so bad, but the Dutch sermon was not interesting to me. During the closing song, we thought we would slip out quietly, but when we reached the door we found it locked. The custom is to lock the door and allow no one to enter or leave during the service, but as a special favor to Americans, who evidently did not know what they were doing, the guardian of the door unlocked it, and out we went amid general interest of the congregation.

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We came from Rotterdam on a little steam-boat, which scooted along the rivers and canals like a street car. Very often the canal was built higher than the adjoining land, and it gave the peculiar feeling of boating in the air. There is no waste ground. Every foot of it not occupied by a house or a chicken-yard, is pasture or under cultivation. Every farmer has a herd of those black-and-white cattle. Some of the herds are as many as six or seven cows. But every cow acted as if she were doing her full duty toward making Holland the wealthiest of nations.

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The streets of Dordrecht are generally narrow, like those of all old towns. Many of the buildings are very old, and a favorite style of architecture is to have the front project several feet forward over the street. The tops of opposite buildings often almost meet. I don’t see why they do not meet and come down kerwhack, but they don’t. Imagine these quaint streets with old Dutch houses, white and blue, with red tiled roofs, and green and yellow thrown in to give them color, with angles and dormers and curious corners, the tops projecting toward one another, and you can see how interesting a Dutch street can be if it tries, as it does in Dordrecht. Of course in the outer and newer parts of the town are larger streets and more modern houses, with beautiful gardens and flower beds that would baffle a painter for color, but old Dordrecht is the most interesting. Add to the street picture a canal down the middle, and you get a frequent variation. Put odd Dutch boats in the water, fill them with freight and children, and you have another. If this were not picturesque it would be grotesque to American eyes, but it is the actual development of Dutch civilization, and it is the thing you pay money for when some artist catches the inspiration which he can get here if anywhere.

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Of course the streets are paved, and they are as clean as the floor of an ordinary American dwelling. Everyone knows that the Dutch are clean and that their national emblem ought to be a scrubbing-brush. They are so clean that it almost hurts. Very often there are no sidewalks, and when there are they are not level, and are generally fenced in. They belong to the abutting property, and are not to be walked on by the public. The people walk in the street, and that custom is a little hard to get used to. Before the front window of nearly every house is a mirror, so fastened that those within the house can see up and down the street, observe who is coming and who is going, and where. This custom, if introduced at home, would save a good deal of neck-stretching. But at first one is overly conscious of the many eyes which are observing his walk and the many minds which are undoubtedly trying to guess just where and why and who. But this mirror custom does not bother the Dutch young folks, not much. It is also the custom for the young man and his sweetheart to parade along the street hand in hand, arm in arm, or catch-as-catch-can, if they want to,--and they want to a great deal. At first this looked like a rude demonstration of affection, but after you have observed it some, say for an hour or so, it doesn’t seem half bad,--if you were only Dutch.

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Dordrecht has about 40,000 people, and all of them are on the street or at the window on Sunday. The saloons are open, but nothing is sold stronger than gin. The Dutch in a quiet, gentlemanly and ladylike way, are evidently trying to consume all the beer that can be made in Holland or imported. Of course they can’t succeed, but, as the story goes, they can probably make the breweries work nights. There is really a need for a temperance organization in this country, and I should say it would have work enough to last it several thousand years.

The Dutchesses

ROTTERDAM, July 24.

The secret of the success of the Dutch is no secret at all. Everybody works, not excepting father, grandfather and grandmother. I suppose this habit began with the unceasing fight against the sea, the building of the dikes, the pumping out of the water, and the construction of a soil. It has continued until there is no other people more persistently industrious. They rise early and get busy. The women cook and scrub and work on the canal-boats, in the shops and in the fields. The children go to school eleven months in the year. The men are stout, quick, and work from early to late. Even the dogs work in Holland. At first it seemed rather hard to see the dogs hitched to the little carts and pulling heavy loads, sometimes a man riding on the cart. This is a serious country for the canine, and must be the place where the phrase “worked like a dog” got its start. In most places the dog is the companion and pet of man, but in Holland he has to do his part in making a living, and he soon learns to draw the load, pulling hard and conscientiously on the traces. He has little time to fight and frolic, but he has the great pleasure of the rest that comes from hard labor. However, if I were a dog and were picking out a country for a location, I would stay far away from Holland. It is no uncommon sight to see a woman with a strap over her shoulders dragging a canal-boat or pulling a little wagon. In fact, the women of The Netherland have rights which they are not even asking in the United States, and no one disputes their prerogative of hard work. There are no “Suffragettes” in Holland, but a woman can do nearly anything she wants to unless it is vote, which she apparently does not care for. There are many rich Hollanders; in fact, there are few that are poor. But they do not constitute a leisure class. The wealthy Dutch gent merely works the harder and the wealthy Dutch “vrouw” scrubs and manages the household or runs the store just as she did in the earlier years of struggle.

Speaking of the Dutch women, I think they are good-looking. They are almost invariably strong and well in appearance, with good complexions, clever eyes and capable expression. They may weigh a little strong for some, but that is a matter of taste. The old Dutch peasant costumes are still worn in places, but as a rule their clothes come from the same models as those for the American women. The Dutchess has been reared to work, to manage, and to advise with her man. She is intelligent in appearance and quick in action. She is educated and companionable. What if her waist line disappears? What if she has no ankles, only feet and legs? Perhaps it will be thought that I am going too far in my investigation, but the Dutch ladies ride bicycles so generally that even a man from America can see a few things, no matter how hard he tries to look the other way and comes near getting run over.

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