The effect of a man wheeling a baby carriage about the deck was to make one think of some peaceful place far from the deck of a steamer.
Little Tim was the life of the ship.

He was a little boy aged eighteen months, who began life at Sombra, in Nyassaland, British Central Africa.
Just now he was returning from England with his father and mother.
Little Tim had curly hair, looked something like a brownie, and was brimming over with energy and curiosity every moment that he was awake.
If left alone five minutes he was quite likely to try to climb up the rigging.

Consequently he was never left alone, and the decks were constantly echoing with a fond mother's voice begging him not to "do that," or to "come right here, Tim." One of Tim's chief diversions was to divest himself of all but his two nearest articles of wear and sit in the scuppers with the water turned on.

A crowd of passengers was usually grouped around him and watched his manoeuvers with intense interest.
He was probably photographed a hundred times and envied by everybody on board.

It was so fearfully hot in the Red Sea that to be seated in running water with almost no clothes on seemed about the nicest possible way to pass the time.
[Drawing: _Little Tim_] There was a professional elephant hunter on board.