Round the world in any number of days

by Maurice Baring

"Round the world in any number of days" by Maurice Baring is a travelogue written in the early 20th century. With urbane wit and a light, essayistic touch, it follows a long sea voyage from England through the Mediterranean and Suez to Ceylon, Australia, and New Zealand, blending portside sketches, shipboard vignettes, and literary reflections. Expect cultural commentary, humorous asides, and keen-eyed descriptions rather than practical guidance or strict itinerary. The opening of this travelogue sets sail from strike-tangled Tilbury on an under-staffed liner, moves past a nostalgic glimpse of Plymouth, and offers brisk, vivid stops—Gibraltar in a blink, Naples in blazing color and song—before coaling at Port Said amid conjurors and cookie-cutter fortune-tellers. Crossing the Red Sea’s stifling heat (with a stoker’s tragic leap), the narrator reads and reminisces—Dumas, Hugo, Trollope—then drifts into monsoon talk, ship-music, and brisk opinions about Australian sensitivities and travel criticism, even imagining an “Australian” Chesterton. Ceylon appears in rickshaws, fans, and incomparable mangoes; later come a mock-dramatic authorial skit at sea, a ghost-story unmasked as a wayward figurehead, and a near-mishap leaving Fremantle. Adelaide prompts sharp notes on the hard lives and poor pay of merchant seamen; Melbourne flashes by; Sydney proves lively, its booksellers deft, and Andrew Lang is warmly remembered before transfer to a new ship bound for New Zealand. On board, poker, “Monte Cristo,” card-fortune jokes, school politics, and musings on modern criticism fill the days. Arrival in Wellington brings the famed wind anecdote, knife-edged hills, and prosperous streets; inland near Palmerston, the landscape recalls Siberia, children ride like centaurs, and rugby’s amateur passion is contrasted with England’s professionalism.