Our toilet facilities are strange and strained; water is carried in a cask on deck, from which a hose protrudes - the water is obtained on these- phon principle, serving for washing and drinking purposes. Perhaps a scien- tific journal is no place for a description of a john but ours is so unique that it must go into this - it lies in a narrow space between our quarters and the galley and outwardly looks normal and usual. The trick is the flush- ing of it; first one turns a knob which permits the entry of water into the pan, then you pump very vigorously at another handle which compels the water to go in, rather than merely permitting it to, and finally a third operation, involving additional furious pumping activities, forces the water out again and into the blue Pacific. A certain part of our deck cargo consists of crates of mandarin oranges consigned to one Lee Foo, a Chinese merchant of Thursday Island, suspected of collaboration with the Japs during the war. Two of his crates are open and his choice oranges are being handed around freely. Terry has just informed me that he is making lemon meringue pie for supper and indeed there is a very pleasant smell of baking seeping into our small and close quarters. He intends to feed us well and we were promised "the best accommodation the ship can afford." So much for Lochiel: I feel, after reading this over, that to try and draw a sketch of here merely would be gilding the lily. Saturday, 17 April 1948. The coastal range is getting lower and lower and the temperature higher and higher; metal parts of the ship are so hot during the day that one cannot touch them and when we called at Cooktown last evening, about 7 P.M. the thermometer was at ninety degrees. This entry must be mainly about Cooktown, both because it is the last out- post of civilization and because it will be our last main base camp on our re- turn journey when we make the collecting camp on Mount Finnegan. I can best describe Cooktown by comparing it to a village crossroads in Wisconsin or Ohio; the usual pub, church, general store idea and although the Cooktown area includes many, many square miles, there are not more than two hundred white people in the whole district. In honor of our arrival today's ration of beer had been laid on last night, one nine gallon keg, and with the crew as our guests largely, the keg was emptied as the hotel keeper, Mrs. Johnston, requested. George, Len and Van went up to the hospital to call on Dr. Kestevan, with whom they had had correspondence, while I maintained things in the hotel. Most of the township came down to see us off and to bid us hasten our return, but it will not be until July or August that we taste beer again, with the possible exception of Thursday Island, after our camp at the Tip has been finished. It is now mid-afternoon and we are sailing along past mountain ranges on the mainland which probably are no more explored now than they were when Captain Cook first discovered them. Large and small islands appear on the seaward side and shortly, about 4 P.M. we should reach Switzer's Reef, where another small craft like this is aground. We are carrying some salvage equipment to her sid but our next and only scheduled stop is Portland Roads, where we should arrive some time tomorrow. That will mark something over half of our journey and we should reach R.I.P. on Tuesday. Fortunately the evenings are fairly cool and even our little oven-like fo'c'sle gets some drop in temperature until sleep becomes possible. Terry keeps up his high standard of cooking but two more days of this will be ample and I at least will be glad to reach the field of operations and get things started. Then we shall find out fairly quickly how long the job at the Tip will take and whether we shall be able to catch Alagna on May 21st.