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[[journal, 2 pages]]
[[page 1]]
[[preprinted]] Thursday, March 3, 1910 [[/preprinted]]

Foot better. Able to walk on it, so I improved the opportunity by going out sailing with Butti, after an hour and a half getting the twists out of a new mainsheet and binding [[strikethrough]] [[?]] [[/strikethrough]] the red sails.

By gum, a new rope has got the worst bally temper of anything I ever saw. It just makes a damned business of being as disagreeable as it's cussed would will allow it to be. More bloody twists than a sheeny lawyer. This one was particularly cantankerous, but we got to it in the end. A victory to be proud of.

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[[preprinted]] Friday, March 4, 1910 [[/preprinted]]

Two and a half years out of New York today! The time has flown, and it doesn't seem possible it was so long ago that I last saw all the faces and scenes in "them [[strikethrough]] [[?]] [[/strikethrough]]United States". Maybe I won't be glad to leave this old dump of a joint and set my face toward a decent country and climate and happiness!

I shall say to Mombasa what [[strikethrough]] many [[/strikethrough]] the younger of my two fellow-countrymen and travellers said to Zanzibar, as he kant over the rail and shook his fist at the receding town: 

Fester, you ----, fester!!

[[strikethrough]] [[?]] [[/strikethrough]]