From the Archives
By Mary Woodward
Last time we left a young Bishop Gerow on the deck of the MS Augustus pulling out from the New York harbor with several seminary classmates bound for the Mediterranean and its exotic ports of call. This week we find him enjoying the open ocean and blue skies of autumn as he and his companions make their way across the sea to the coast of Spain and beyond.
On Sept. 22, he remarks in his reminiscence that it is a “soothing change” to no longer be in the hustle and bustle of New York with its roar, dust, and gasses. He takes joy in being away from the “nervous bedlam of the metropolis with men and women rushing wildly here and there through the streets.”

Finding himself now resting in a steamer chair on the deck of the ship, he basks in the sunshine and mild temps under the “great blue dome of heaven above curving down on all sides until it rests upon the distant horizon.” He reflects on the “great blue ocean beneath us rising and falling, slowly, rhythmically like the breathing of some gigantic beast, its waves beating against the iron sides of the steamer and sending their spray in many colored rainbows.”
Considering the many responsibilities of the office of bishop, I imagine it was wonderful for him to just sit and relax on the “gigantic beast” and enjoy meeting fellow passengers, engage in a game of quoits (similar to horseshoes but with rope rings) or shuffleboard. Coming from Mobile, he was very used to being on the water. Apparently, some of his traveling companions were having a little trouble being at sea.
“For the last two days some of our party have failed to appear in the dining room for some of the meals; and the waiter has looked at me several times as if he thought that I was trying to eat their share as well as my own.”
His entry on Sept. 25 has only four words: “Passed the Azore Islands.”
But on the morning of Sept. 28, they could see the coast of Spain. “This morning upon our port bow appeared the rugged coast of Southern Spain, with its rolling hills clothed in velvet green. We have been following the coastline all morning, perhaps six or eight miles away.”
Soon land appeared to the south of them – Africa off the starboard bow. The way he describes the scenery before him makes me feel right there on the deck. So, let’s sail along with him and enjoy his entry into the Mediterranean.
“Then as the distance between the Spanish shore on the north and the African shore on the south narrowed, there came into view the great Rock of Gibraltar on the Spanish side of the strait, and Gebel Musa, a great mountain of rock on the African side. Between these two rocky points ten miles apart the great Mediterranean Sea empties into the Atlantic Ocean.
“Gibraltar is a great rock rising precipitously from the water to a height of 1361 feet … this is connected with the Spanish mainland by a narrow strip of flat, sandy land. Gibraltar belongs to England. It has belonged to England since 1704. …Within this great rock run tunnels with small openings … looking out upon the sea and across the strait. Through these openings point great cannons, so that England is in a position to command absolutely the entrance to the Mediterranean Sea.”
Bishop Gerow and his friends disembarked the Augustus and bid farewell to the ocean liner. He describes the moment as being similar to watching the departure of a dear friend as the ship sailed back out into the Atlantic.

Since the hotels at Gibraltar were not considered too comfortable, the group had booked rooms in a hotel in Algeciras on the Spanish mainland. So they made their way across that narrow, sandy strip of land to check in for one night. The next day they would board a steamer for Tangier in Morocco.
During his short stay in Algeciras in Spain, Bishop Gerow paints a picture of a quaint sojourn into Spanish lore. “An air of antiquity hangs over the place – one lives again in the middle ages in this old-fashioned little town with its narrow streets, its ancient buildings, its easy going people.”
As he sat in the gardens of the hotel the next morning prior to departing for Tangier, he soaked in that tranquil setting. “As I felt upon my cheek the cool, refreshing salt-scented breeze from the ocean, I said contentedly within myself: ‘So this is Spain.’
“But I must awake from my revery – our boat leaves at two o’clock for Tangier. But I will return to Spain!”
Let us leave him boarding the steamer for Morocco. His adventure there is quite rich in a land foreign to his “occidental eyes.”
(Mary Woodward is Chancellor and Archivist for the Diocese of Jackson.)





















