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Bill found some interesting Polyrachus nests on the way down - the nest made of chewed-up bark fastened together with silk, and hung on a thorn bush, looking something like a small-size oriole nest. B., chasing after a beetle, got stung by a wasp, but as he explained, sucking his finger, "that was a good wasp; that big black one there is a bad wasp. Even a cow will die if that one stings her."

April[[strikethrough]] 2- [[/strikethrough]] 20 - 21

We did little for two days, except supervise carpenters working on cages for us, shop occasio[[strikethrough]] a [[/strikethrough]]nally, having some shoes made for me, picking up various food supplies that we thought we might need in Ceram. The toko Makassar is our favourite store. One day I saw in a glass jar some packages of chewing gum, looking pathetically American in their pink  wrapping, and I helped myself to a piece.  It had been sent out before the iinvention of cellophane, had lost all its elasticity, and alarmingly dissolved down my throat before I realized what had happened.

April 22 -

Our steamer, which was supposed to sail yesterday, did not leave until today. We pasked up once more, leaving behind the Esplanade Hotel with all its minor comforts - a little brush to kill mosquitoes is carefully placed in the bed  each night, our clothes are hung on a rack that has a klambo draped over it - a good idea, for mosquitoes love to rest in one's clothes during the daytime.

We had to take a launch out to the Makian, the little freighter that goes to Ceram. It is a ^[[m]]otor ship, with two cabins for passengers, and we felt as though we were on a private yacht. The saloon is on the forward deck, and here we spent the evening, watching Amboina disappear into the distance. We came out of the deep bay and around the island, so that [[strikethrough]] the [[/strikethrough]] although the town lights soon vanished, the bulk of the island remained visi[[strikethrough]] i [[/strikethrough]]ble as long as there was light to see it.

April 23 -

Still sailing around Ambon (incidentally the island is Ambon, the town is Amboina). We stopped at Sapoeroea for a couple of hours in the  orning, but as we did not dock, and as it was raining hard there seemed little reason for going ashore.

Shortly after noon we came in sight of Ceram,  and took three hours to sail up the deep bay that leads to the little town of Piroe. Fro^[[m]] the sea there is little to indicate that the island is inhabited. An occasional wisp of smoke curls up from the mountains, which are heavily forested, with occasional wide patches of grassland. Piroe itself is indicated by a small dock, a few little thatched houses, and the large roof of the resthouse.

We got ashore about 4.30, and found that the main street of the town runs directly away from the sea, and that there is more of a village here than we had thought. On our way to call on the Controller we stopped first at the Assistant Controller's house to ask the way, and saw some animals in an outdoor cage. There were four cuscus, a big white cockatoo, a fruit pigeon, and a purple