Seventy-two days without a port--Whales and birds--A peep into the
_Spray's_ galley--Flying-fish for breakfast--A welcome at Apia--A
visit from Mrs. Robert Louis Stevenson--At Vailima--Samoan
hospitality--Arrested for fast riding--An amusing
merry-go-round--Teachers and pupils of Papauta College--At the mercy
of sea-nymphs.
To be alone forty-three days would seem a long time, but in reality,
even here, winged moments flew lightly by, and instead of my hauling
in for Nukahiva, which I could have made as well as not, I kept on for
Samoa, where I wished to make my next landing. This occupied
twenty-nine days more, making seventy-two days in all. I was not
distressed in any way during that time. There was no end of
companionship; the very coral reefs kept me company, or gave me no
time to feel lonely, which is the same thing, and there were many of
them now in my course to Samoa.
First among the incidents of the voyage from Juan Fernandez to Samoa
(which were not many) was a narrow escape from collision with a great
whale that was absent-mindedly plowing the ocean at night while I was
below. The noise from his startled snort and the commotion he made in
the sea, as he turned to clear my vessel, brought me on deck in time
to catch a wetting from the water he threw up with his flukes. The
monster was apparently frightened. He headed quickly for the east; I
kept on going west. Soon another whale passed, evidently a companion,
following in its wake. I saw no more on this part of the voyage, nor
did I wish to.
[Illustration: Meeting with the whale]
Hungry sharks came about the vessel often when she neared islands or
coral reefs. I own to a satisfaction in shooting them as one would a
tiger. Sharks, after all, are the tigers of the sea. Nothing is
more dreadful to the mind of a sailor, I think, than a possible
encounter with a hungry shark.
A number of birds were always about; occasionally one poised on the
mast to look the _Spray_ over, wondering, perhaps, at her odd wings,
for she now wore her Fuego mainsail, which, like Joseph's coat, was
made of many pieces. Ships are less common on the Southern seas than
formerly. I saw not one in the many days crossing the Pacific.
My diet on these long passages usually consisted of potatoes and salt
cod and biscuits, which I made two or three times a week. I had always
plenty of coffee, tea, sugar, and flour. I carried usually a good
supply of potatoes, but before reaching Samoa I had a mishap which
left me destitute of this highly prized sailors' luxury. Through
meeting at Juan Fernandez the Yankee Portuguese named Manuel Carroza,
who nearly traded me out of my boots, I ran out of potatoes in
mid-ocean, and was wretched thereafter. I prided myself on being
something of a trader; but this Portuguese from the Azores by way of
New Bedford, who gave me new potatoes for the older ones I had got
from the _Colombia_, a bushel or more of the best, left me no ground
for boasting. He wanted mine, he said, "for changee the seed." When I
got to sea I found that his tubers were rank and unedible, and full of
fine yellow streaks of repulsive appearance. I tied the sack up and
returned to the few left of my old stock, thinking that maybe when I
got right hungry the island potatoes would improve in flavor. Three
weeks later I opened the bag again, and out flew millions of winged
insects! Manuel's potatoes had all turned to moths. I tied them up
quickly and threw all into the sea.
Manuel had a large crop of potatoes on hand, and as a hint to
whalemen, who are always eager to buy vegetables, he wished me to
report whales off the island of Juan Fernandez, which I have already
done, and big ones at that, but they were a long way off.
Taking things by and large, as sailors say, I got on fairly well in
the matter of provisions even on the long voyage across the Pacific. I
found always some small stores to help the fare of luxuries; what I
lacked of fresh meat was made up in fresh fish, at least while in the
trade-winds, where flying-fish crossing on the wing at night would hit
the sails and fall on deck, sometimes two or three of them, sometimes
a dozen. Every morning except when the moon was large I got a
bountiful supply by merely picking them up from the lee scuppers. All
tinned meats went begging.
On the 16th of July, after considerable care and some skill and hard
work, the _Spray_ cast anchor at Apia, in the kingdom of Samoa, about
noon. My vessel being moored, I spread an awning, and instead of going
at once on shore I sat under it till late in the evening, listening
with delight to the musical voices of the Samoan men and women.
A canoe coming down the harbor, with three young women in it, rested
her paddles abreast the sloop. One of the fair crew, hailing with the
naive salutation, "Talofa lee" ("Love to you, chief"), asked:
"Schoon come Melike?"
"Love to you," I answered, and said, "Yes."
"You man come 'lone?"
Again I answered, "Yes."
"I don't believe that. You had other mans, and you eat 'em."
At this sally the others laughed. "What for you come long way?" they
asked.
"To hear you ladies sing," I replied.
[Illustration: First exchange of courtesies in Samoa.]
"Oh, talofa lee!" they all cried, and sang on. Their voices filled the
air with music that rolled across to the grove of tall palms on the
other side of the harbor and back. Soon after this six young men came
down in the United States consul-general's boat, singing in parts and
beating time with their oars. In my interview with them I came off
better than with the damsels in the canoe. They bore an invitation
from General Churchill for me to come and dine at the consulate. There
was a lady's hand in things about the consulate at Samoa. Mrs.
Churchill picked the crew for the general's boat, and saw to it that
they wore a smart uniform and that they could sing the Samoan
boatsong, which in the first week Mrs. Churchill herself could sing
like a native girl.
Next morning bright and early Mrs. Robert Louis Stevenson came to the
_Spray_ and invited me to Vailima the following day. I was of course
thrilled when I found myself, after so many days of adventure, face to
face with this bright woman, so lately the companion of the author who
had delighted me on the voyage. The kindly eyes, that looked me
through and through, sparkled when we compared notes of adventure. I
marveled at some of her experiences and escapes. She told me that,
along with her husband, she had voyaged in all manner of rickety craft
among the islands of the Pacific, reflectively adding, "Our tastes
were similar."
Following the subject of voyages, she gave me the four beautiful
volumes of sailing directories for the Mediterranean, writing on the
fly-leaf of the first:
To CAPTAIN SLOCUM. These volumes have been read and re-read many times
by my husband, and I am very sure that he would be pleased that they
should be passed on to the sort of seafaring man that he liked above
all others. FANNY V. DE G. STEVENSON.
Mrs. Stevenson also gave me a great directory of the Indian Ocean. It
was not without a feeling of reverential awe that I received the books
so nearly direct from the hand of Tusitala, "who sleeps in the
forest." Aolele, the _Spray_ will cherish your gift.
[Illustration: Vailima, the home of Robert Louis Stevenson.]
The novelist's stepson, Mr. Lloyd Osbourne, walked through the Vailima
mansion with me and bade me write my letters at the old desk. I
thought it would be presumptuous to do that; it was sufficient for me
to enter the hall on the floor of which the "Writer of Tales,"
according to the Samoan custom, was wont to sit.
Coming through the main street of Apia one day, with my hosts, all
bound for the _Spray_, Mrs. Stevenson on horseback, I walking by her
side, and Mr. and Mrs. Osbourne close in our wake on bicycles, at a
sudden turn in the road we found ourselves mixed with a remarkable
native procession, with a somewhat primitive band of music, in front
of us, while behind was a festival or a funeral, we could not tell
which. Several of the stoutest men carried bales and bundles on poles.
Some were evidently bales of tapa-cloth. The burden of one set of
poles, heavier than the rest, however, was not so easily made out. My
curiosity was whetted to know whether it was a roast pig or something
of a gruesome nature, and I inquired about it. "I don't know," said
Mrs. Stevenson, "whether this is a wedding or a funeral. Whatever it
is, though, captain, our place seems to be at the head of it."
The _Spray_ being in the stream, we boarded her from the beach
abreast, in the little razeed Gloucester dory, which had been painted
a smart green. Our combined weight loaded it gunwale to the water, and
I was obliged to steer with great care to avoid swamping. The
adventure pleased Mrs. Stevenson greatly, and as we paddled along she
sang, "They went to sea in a pea-green boat." I could understand her
saying of her husband and herself, "Our tastes were similar."
As I sailed farther from the center of civilization I heard less and
less of what would and what would not pay. Mrs. Stevenson, in speaking
of my voyage, did not once ask me what I would make out of it. When I
came to a Samoan village, the chief did not ask the price of gin, or
say, "How much will you pay for roast pig?" but, "Dollar, dollar,"
said he; "white man know only dollar."
"Never mind dollar. The _tapo_ has prepared ava; let us drink and
rejoice." The tapo is the virgin hostess of the village; in this
instance it was Taloa, daughter of the chief. "Our taro is good; let
us eat. On the tree there is fruit. Let the day go by; why should we
mourn over that? There are millions of days coming. The breadfruit is
yellow in the sun, and from the cloth-tree is Taloa's gown. Our house,
which is good, cost but the labor of building it, and there is no lock
on the door."
While the days go thus in these Southern islands we at the North are
struggling for the bare necessities of life.
For food the islanders have only to put out their hand and take what
nature has provided for them; if they plant a banana-tree, their only
care afterward is to see that too many trees do not grow. They have
great reason to love their country and to fear the white man's yoke,
for once harnessed to the plow, their life would no longer be a poem.
The chief of the village of Caini, who was a tall and dignified Tonga
man, could be approached only through an interpreter and talking man.
It was perfectly natural for him to inquire the object of my visit,
and I was sincere when I told him that my reason for casting anchor in
Samoa was to see their fine men, and fine women, too. After a
considerable pause the chief said: "The captain has come a long way to
see so little; but," he added, "the tapo must sit nearer the captain."
"Yack," said Taloa, who had so nearly learned to say yes in English,
and suiting the action to the word, she hitched a peg nearer, all
hands sitting in a circle upon mats. I was no less taken with the
chiefs eloquence than delighted with the simplicity of all he said.
About him there was nothing pompous; he might have been taken for a
great scholar or statesman, the least assuming of the men I met on the
voyage. As for Taloa, a sort of Queen of the May, and the other tapo
girls, well, it is wise to learn as soon as possible the manners and
customs of these hospitable people, and meanwhile not to mistake for
over-familiarity that which is intended as honor to a guest. I was
fortunate in my travels in the islands, and saw nothing to shake one's
faith in native virtue.
To the unconventional mind the punctilious etiquette of Samoa is
perhaps a little painful. For instance, I found that in partaking of
ava, the social bowl, I was supposed to toss a little of the beverage
over my shoulder, or pretend to do so, and say, "Let the gods drink,"
and then drink it all myself; and the dish, invariably a
cocoanut-shell, being empty, I might not pass it politely as we would
do, but politely throw it twirling across the mats at the tapo.
My most grievous mistake while at the islands was made on a nag,
which, inspired by a bit of good road, must needs break into a smart
trot through a village. I was instantly hailed by the chief's deputy,
who in an angry voice brought me to a halt. Perceiving that I was in
trouble, I made signs for pardon, the safest thing to do, though I did
not know what offense I had committed. My interpreter coming up,
however, put me right, but not until a long palaver had ensued. The
deputy's hail, liberally translated, was: "Ahoy, there, on the frantic
steed! Know you not that it is against the law to ride thus through
the village of our fathers?" I made what apologies I could, and
offered to dismount and, like my servant, lead my nag by the bridle.
This, the interpreter told me, would also be a grievous wrong, and so
I again begged for pardon. I was summoned to appear before a chief;
but my interpreter, being a wit as well as a bit of a rogue, explained
that I was myself something of a chief, and should not be detained,
being on a most important mission. In my own behalf I could only say
that I was a stranger, but, pleading all this, I knew I still deserved
to be roasted, at which the chief showed a fine row of teeth and
seemed pleased, but allowed me to pass on.
[Illustration: The _Spray's_ course from the Strait of Magellan to
Torres Strait.]
[Illustration: The _Spray's_ course from Australia to South Africa.]
The chief of the Tongas and his family at Caini, returning my visit,
brought presents of tapa-cloth and fruits. Taloa, the princess,
brought a bottle of cocoanut-oil for my hair, which another man might
have regarded as coming late.
It was impossible to entertain on the _Spray_ after the royal manner
in which I had been received by the chief. His fare had included all
that the land could afford, fruits, fowl, fishes, and flesh, a hog
having been roasted whole. I set before them boiled salt pork and salt
beef, with which I was well supplied, and in the evening took them all
to a new amusement in the town, a rocking-horse merry-go-round, which
they called a "kee-kee," meaning theater; and in a spirit of justice
they pulled off the horses' tails, for the proprietors of the show,
two hard-fisted countrymen of mine, I grieve to say, unceremoniously
hustled them off for a new set, almost at the first spin. I was not a
little proud of my Tonga friends; the chief, finest of them all,
carried a portentous club. As for the theater, through the greed of
the proprietors it was becoming unpopular, and the representatives of
the three great powers, in want of laws which they could enforce,
adopted a vigorous foreign policy, taxing it twenty-five per cent, on
the gate-money. This was considered a great stroke of legislative
reform!
It was the fashion of the native visitors to the _Spray_ to come over
the bows, where they could reach the head-gear and climb aboard with
ease, and on going ashore to jump off the stern and swim away; nothing
could have been more delightfully simple. The modest natives wore
_lava-lava_ bathing-dresses, a native cloth from the bark of the
mulberry-tree, and they did no harm to the _Spray_. In summer-land
Samoa their coming and going was only a merry every-day scene. One
day the head teachers of Papauta College, Miss Schultze and Miss
Moore, came on board with their ninety-seven young women students.
They were all dressed in white, and each wore a red rose, and of
course came in boats or canoes in the cold-climate style. A merrier
bevy of girls it would be difficult to find. As soon as they got on
deck, by request of one of the teachers, they sang "The Watch on the
Rhine," which I had never heard before. "And now," said they all,
"let's up anchor and away." But I had no inclination to sail from
Samoa so soon. On leaving the _Spray_ these accomplished young women
each seized a palm-branch or paddle, or whatever else would serve the
purpose, and literally paddled her own canoe. Each could have swum as
readily, and would have done so, I dare say, had it not been for the
holiday muslin.
It was not uncommon at Apia to see a young woman swimming alongside a
small canoe with a passenger for the _Spray_. Mr. Trood, an old Eton
boy, came in this manner to see me, and he exclaimed, "Was ever king
ferried in such state?" Then, suiting his action to the sentiment, he
gave the damsel pieces of silver till the natives watching on shore
yelled with envy. My own canoe, a small dugout, one day when it had
rolled over with me, was seized by a party of fair bathers, and before
I could get my breath, almost, was towed around and around the
_Spray_, while I sat in the bottom of it, wondering what they would do
next. But in this case there were six of them, three on a side, and I
could not help myself. One of the sprites, I remember, was a young
English lady, who made more sport of it than any of the others.