More trading this morning and I didn’t get the dishes done until 11:30. The boys went ashore this morning and just as I was about to set the table for noon chow the Skipper called from shore to have it at 12:30.
The gang went over to another village and didn’t get back at all for chow. Warren and Low came back and the Skipper, Arthur, and Kuper came on at 12:50. I am getting goddam sick and tired of these late chows and I’m going to tell the Skipper if any more happens like today. I’ve spoiled him. Here I’m setting, waiting on and clearing the table, washing, drying and putting away the dishes and helping Loring otherwise by peeling yams, carving meat, mixing batter, etc, etc and not a word of thanks or a hint of retribution from the Skipper. If he tries what I think he will in Port Moresby, I’ll tell him to take the job himself and go to hell. I’ve stood more than enough of that stuff and then to top it Exy comes into the galley at 2:30 and takes some crackers, peanut butter, and butter. Not a word to Loring or me about it.She owns the goddam boat and horseshit.
I’m getting madder and madder every time I think of it. One of the guys who ate with her are going to do the dishes and silver that were dirtied. There are only a couple of them, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to do them. If they are going to have late chow why not tell me before so that I can plan. If I only have a half hour or so before the next chow, there is no use going ashore and then they yell that lunch is a half hour later which means I stay around here twiddling my thumbs.
Clint, Warren, Charley, and Gil got in a native canoe this afternoon and, after swamping two or three times in trials, raced a fleet of other canoes. They started badly and never had a chance, coming in an extremely poor last. Then Gil, Warren, and Clint had a swimming race against a herd of natives from the Yankee to shore and Clint came in second despite being tired from the canoeing.
My ambitions must be getting warped for lately, have had absolutely no inclination to go ashore, trade, see natives or do anything.
I have just been on deck and seen the dance going on – the one about the salt-water men and the hill men pictured in Skipper’s movies. It was interesting even from on board and I kick myself for not being ashore, but somehow I just can’t bring myself around to it.
Tonight Skipper showed his movies on deck for Kuper and the natives.
They certainly enjoyed them and howled like Kids when they saw themselves. I found out later that the Skipper was running the generator with the engine room closed down tight making a swell pocket of hydrogen gas which could have exploded any minute. What a narrow one! Someday Skipper’s luck is going to run out on things like that.
After the movies I had an argument with Jop about my not going ashore. I tried unsuccessfully to show him that circumstances prevent my going ashore as often as I would like, but he couldn’t see it. He is just a dumb Dutchman who tries to argue about everything and is getting nastier every day in this habit.