Sunday morning. Arose at 5 am. The Stewards have what is termed “European” suits on – short jacket and cotton trousers. I wish I was the same for I am almost roasted. I fancy we shal be more like “dried herrings” than human beings. The heat is so great that the tar and pitch is running about like black treacle. One of our mates accidentally got his head glued to the boards with it. It was jolly sport trying to loosen him. We had one half of his hair to cut off before we could free him.
We had divine service as usual. The Minister selected the 8th chap. St. Matt. 9th V. for his text delivering a splendid sermon.