Day 1 of the sea journey.
    I first meet the safari party at dinner, we were  all seated at the captain's table. When I arrived Professor Reginal Archabald was seated next to the captain. He was in a rather dour  mood, was it just the tiring ordeal of embarking on a sea journey or his true nature or having his rival as the expedition leader? Which ever,  he clearly is  a man of high intellect driven by his thirst for knowledge. A real man of science.
    The big game hunter Gordon Smythe a hard drinking, hard driving, direct man verging on the boorish. The worldly Gordon clearly shows his disdain for the softer side. A good solid person to have along when confronting the unforgiving wilds of India. An adventurer to the core.
    The retired General Lord Wareham known as Sir Edmund to many.  A fine sophisticated man with steely eyes and a good natured smile. He is someone who’s seen a great deal of the world and want’s to see it all. A tall  order but not above his skills or ambitions. Definitely someone not to be trifled with.
    Samuel Tuttle a photographer of some note out to make a name for himself. A reserved man with limited interests out side of photography. I’ve worked with Tuttle before and I know with his skills and determination, he is setting out to one of the  great men of photography. All that is lacking is the appropriate subject. Hopefully that subtest  is India.
    The last to  arrive was the safari leader W.A. Gromit a man  from outward appearances used to soft living and good books. A man with rapier wit deep inner convictions and always ready to  take on the world, especially his long time rival R. Archibald. Long on organizational skills one could not ask for a better  leader.
    The sense of adventure was so thick as to be palatable! I will have a hard time waiting for it to began!

Note to editor: Gad! My impression of Professor Gromit was how did he find his way out of the museum in the first place?! And the rest! A rummy, an old coot and another bookworm! Along with Tuttle, that old little rich kid, good as a sign post in a sticky situation. Quite a crew. One could only hope that first impressions are deceiving. If not, God have mercy on us! How could this have happened? When (if?) I get back to London we’re going to have more then just a little talk...
    There was a quite comely young woman seated next to Professor Gromit. I remember something about her, something more then in the gossip columns. Something profound, what was it? I also glimpsed someone down in  steerage class when  I was on  the boarding ramp. It was the kind of feeling that you get when you meet someone out of context, like meeting a gardener at a fancy ball or  constable at the pub. Well at least I will have something to look into on this rather dull voyage. Maybe, just  maybe there is a real story around here somewhere...

Day 2 of the sea journey.
    I spent most of the day trying to get to know some of the party better. We had some target practice today. Gordon Smythe, the hunter,  proved he is the best  shot on the expedition. The Sir Edmund is pretty good too. That was a warm feeling given the  lawless  landscape we are to enter.
Note to editor: Gordon Smythe is a good shot and Sir Edmund too ... when their sober that is. Neither one I would like to rely on in a pinch however. I NEED to practice more. You said that if I need more money to buy equipment you would wire some. I plan to use all the ammunition I took practicing.  Also I’ll need double the ammunition written on my expense report, I’ll wire you from Gibraltar have it ready for me in Calcutta.

Day 3 of the sea journey.
    It was a bit rough today and I was feeling a little under the weather. I had wanted to go down into steerage class and look around, maybe tomorrow.
    I was feeling a bit better so I made it for dinner and much to my surprise in walks none other then Daniel Scranton Dunsmuir! D. S. Dunsmuir an explorer of some note and believed by many to have been lost forever! And here I am sitting at the same table as him! Where has he been all these years? What adventures has he had? I think I shall find out soon enough. But more to the point, what shining prize would entice D. S. Dunsmuir out of obscurity into our safari? What mystery could be so important that two arc rivals of academia would team up together? Clearly Prof. Gromit proves that he has cards he’s not showing, cunning devil.    
    Dinner this night was very interesting. What a colorful array of characters! I see I forgot to mention Prof. Gromit’s Grad student the pretty Melody Harris and also Prof. Archibald appears to have a body guard, a wise move given the situation. A colorful group indeed.
What other surprises await us? Well, I didn’t have to wait long the adventure has begun!

Note to editor: Melody, the grad student, seems to be running the show. An inexperienced, but not untalented young lady running an expedition, great! At least she “advised” Prof. Gromit to hire D. S. Dunsmuir.
    Yes, it really is D. S. Dunsmuir. He looked ragged even for an American.  What the hell was he doing riding down  in steerage? The way this “safari” is shaping up Dunsmuir will have spent the “lost” years crawling around pubs of the world. But then again, my first impression is that Dunsmuir possess an inner discipline that few can lay claim to. Maybe there’s hope for us after all. This is a real story so who am I to complain.
     After dinner we found Prof. Gromit’s ransacked! After talking to the purser there have been other thefts. Great! That’s all I need. Must remember to keep my Diary with me at all times.  

Days 3 to 10 of the sea journey
( A couple of tabloid gossip stories)
(one unfinished tabloid gossip story)

One of the many quirks of travel, most of the passengers got off at Monaco. It’s gotten quite lonely. Well at least I got to see the Suez cannel. Off to India.
Note to editor: Had a run in with a roughen. Took a knife to the ribs. The last few days are a fog, dam doctor. I shouldn’t complain he stitched me up good as  new, well almost.
    There are some strange goings on here. I found myself in the path of a crazed Indian being chased by Lord Wareham and Dunsmuir.
    This was the 12th time I’ve drawn my derringer, the 3d time I’ve pulled the trigger. This is first time I’ve pulled it twice missing both times, the first time my opponent kept coming and the first time I wish I hit him. I’ve learned my lesson, these people aren't after a shilling or two, but what are they after? I find it hard to believe it’s all over an old map.
    Lord Wareham  did manage to grab the blither, then I pounded him senseless. He died shortly thereafter. Revenge after a fashion I suppose. Woke up 4 days later with a nice scar. Dam doctors! Everyone who could got off at Monaco.

Arrived at Calcutta.
    Let the adventure begin!
Note to editor: Melody, the grad student, is definitely in charge. Even Prof. Archibald is taking her seriously now, well a little anyway . Everyone is putting in their two cents as to how the safari should be run and equipped. Oddly enough Lord Wareham and Gordon Smythe seem to give the best advice (my opinion). Dunsmuir has a “we’ll make due” attitude, I thought he would be more helpful. Speaking of Dunsmuir  I find myself feeling sorry for him, no home, no family, no friends. But then I feel his inner strength. Odd.
In Calcutta.
    Calcutta is hot. And wet. And hot. It makes one feel as if one was a steamed dumpling. Or boiled. It seems as if things are boiling here now, all this activity putting the final touches on the safari equipment. Load it into the train and off we go!
On the train.
    The trains are very much like we have back in England. First class is very nice and the accommodations are as good as any train I’ve been  on. Second class is good too. But there are differences. The cheapest passage is simply clinging to the roof! Ahhh! the adventure!
Note to editor: Poor devils! I’ll never  complain about riding second class ever again! I was told that you  tried to have me ride the cheapest passage, but were told that “Europeans don’t ride that way”. Is this true? Wait don’t tell me, not while I’m carrying a gun.
On the Paddle Wheeler.
   

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