Some time ago, when I was paying a visit to Marseilles, I was told by a ship's officer that the city's dockland was one of the most vicious and dangerous in the world. "It's no use for a person to venture back to ship on foot," he told me. "Of course, I mean, after nightfall. There is a knife or sandbag waiting around every corner. Sailors in funds are always select victims. Personally, I would not have a glass of water in a cafe or bar in any quarter of it. I had an iced-lager in a saloon there some years ago, and after drinking it I remembered no more until I woke up in a filthy alley some hours later. I had nothing left but a shirt and trousers. My boots and socks were even taken. I know no dockside in the world which can touch it for villainy. Even saloon-keepers and cafe-owners are in the game; perhaps, they have to be for their own safety. Anyhow, when I was knocked out, it was daylight, and I was more fortunate than two shipmates who were badly injured returning to ship at night. One died in hospital before our return to England.
The Irish Times, February 13th, 1931.