had an answer for everything. It may be that I am envious; though I called him a “know-all” I had a sneaky feeling that I wished to be like him in many respects. One of his most exasperating traits was the fact that by his cold unyielding logic he won every argument. There was, however, one field in which I could disagree with him with conviction—the art of dancing. For him there was only one type of dance—the sophisticated intricacy of ballroom dance steps. To me is was quite obvious that for some inexplicable reason he had not witnessed the girls in Tahiti—untutored, yet so graceful in their own interpretation of music and movement. There are some people whom you do wish to meet and somehow you never get intimate with. Sometimes they fascinate you even from a distance. I enjoyed the company of the New Zealand girls. They were friendly. Some were attractivelooking. They were all proud of being New Zealanders. I was the only New Zealander who didn't wear a greenstone kiwi on my chest and to make matters worse I didn't have a piupiu. As I was the only Maori on board the rest of my fellow countrymen felt that I should have flaunted my native dress at one of the fancy-dress parties. The New Zealand girls carried bathing towels whenever they went sun bathing and all of these were printed with the usual New Zealand emblems of the kiwi or the native fern. Somehow I had no desire to make it known that I too was a Kiwi. I also intrigued quite a few people—even a New Zealander thought I was a Tahitian. The Italians used to ask me if I were Spanish or South American. One suggested that I was a Sicilian. The Australian girls were amongst the most attractive on board. Most of them were tall, and very slender. They were also friendly and if you sat alone it was not long before they came to make conversation with you. I never got to know them intimately, but I admired their happy faces and their extremely elegant figures. There was one Australian woman with whom we were rather friendly. She was a beautiful blonde with a child of two years and all the men admired her. Some of the women envied her. She was so friendly that really you couldn't dislike her, even if she did have all those assets which you longed for—lovely face, pleasant speaking voice and a superb figure. She was dated by several admirers and the snippets of gossip from her fellow women were always amusing…. “That's not her husband!. I wonder if he's still in Australia….I wonder if she's divorced…She looks the type!” Then she had a mild flirtation with a romantic Italian. He gave her Italian lessons and she assured us she was getting on rather splendidly. Soon there was more gossip…. “I don't know what she sees in Joseph. He's so morose…. And oh! So sentimental.” Joseph was extremely generous. If ever we sat with beautiful Barbara he would buy us a glass of the most select wine. He was also very knowledgeable on ships, strange people and new countries. The beautiful blonde Barbara was a schoolteacher like ourselves. So we had something in common. And then she knew how to enjoy herself. She was never bored. I remember how I admired too, the Italian waiters and cabin stewards. They have a charm rather like the Tahitians and they are another handsome people. Their dark swarthy beauty and their extreme politeness won them many admirers amongst the women. Their speech too is like music. A friend of ours said that to hear them speak is like listening to an Italian opera. The Italian orchestra was extremely popular with everyone. But they had one rather annoying habit. They were never ready on time for the afternoon concerts. It was certain that the violinist was wooing a passenger round the corner; they are as romantic as you think them to be. If the five members of the band were occasionally on time they would never begin until the ladies were all seated. There would be an interminable performance of bowing and smiling and frequent kissing of hand to the ladies. Sometimes one of them would forget his music sheet in his fervid admiration of his latest love who would sit as close as possible to the front of the stage. The dining room stewards were also Italians and the younger ones annoyed some of the middle-aged ladies. They also loved feminine company and some of them would forget to bring a prim old lady's soup when they saw the glances of promising flirtations from younger women. We never got tired of the Italians, who looked so serious and were so courteous that it was difficult to imagine that their flirtations were as shortlived as the journey. Oh, there were other people—Mac the Englishman, married to a Samoan girl and converted to her religion, that of the Roman Catholic faith. He was a curious mixture of beliefs. He loved those shady places where the women entertained men for a small fee. He had one queer idea which always started an argument—namely—that all women were meant to suffer. Then he'd argue about the beneficient power of the Roman Catholic church. Our Dutch friend would point out the number of poverty stricken countries dominated by Catholicism—Spain, Italy, Mexico and Mac would fall silent, for a moment, After the heated argument in which, as usual, nobody really won and nobody really changed his views, we would all buy one another drinks to show that we were still friends. And time passes and friendships grow or fade. There are more faces. We meet a lot of Germans, a few Austrians, and more Dutch people. All are returning from Australia to their home countries. Some are discontented with life in Australia, some think it is a country with opportunities. Looking back at the discontented ones, I do feel in sympathy with some of them—with strangers in a strange country.