IN THE SOUTH SEAS
"Since long ago, a child at home,
I read and longed to rise and roam,
Where'er I went, what'er I willed,
One promised land my fancy filled.
Hence the long road my home I made;
Tossed much in ships; have often laid
Below the uncurtained sky my head,
Rain-deluged and wind buffeted;
And many a thousand miles I crossed,
And corners turned--love's labor lost,
Till, Lady, to your isle of sun
I came, not hoping, and like one
Snatched out of blindness, rubbed my eyes,
And hailed my promised land with cries."
Once, while Louis was a discontented student at the University of
Edinburgh, the premier of New Zealand, Mr. Seed, spent an evening with
his father and talked about the South Sea Islands until the boy said he
was "sick with desire to go there."
From that time on a visit to that out-of-the-way corner of the earth was
a cherished dream, and he read everything he could lay hands on that
told about it.
While in California, the first time, Mr. Virgil Williams, an artist,
aroused his interest still more by the accounts of his own trip in the
South Seas.
Now his opportunity to see them had actually come. He already knew much
of the kind of places and people they were going among.
Three thousand miles across the open sea lay the Marquesas Islands, the
first group they hoped to visit, and it was for that port their
schooner, the _Casco_, turned her head when she was towed out of the
Golden Gate at dawn on the 28th of June.
Besides the family and a servant, Valentine Roch, who had been with them
since Bournemouth days, the party consisted of the skipper, Captain
Otis, who was well acquainted with the Pacific, a crew of four
deck-hands, and a Japanese cook.
The _Casco_ was a fore-and-aft schooner, ninety-five feet in length, of
seventy tons' burden. "She had most graceful lines and with her lofty
masts, white sails and decks, and glittering brass work, was a lovely
craft to the eye as she sat upon the water."
"I must try to describe the vessel that is to be our home for so long,"
Mrs. Stevenson, senior, wrote to her sister at Colinton. "From the deck
you step down into the cockpit, which is our open air drawing room. It
has seats all around, nicely cushioned, and we sit or lie there most of
the day. The compass is there, and the wheel, so the man at the wheel
always keeps us company.... At the bottom of the stairs on the right
hand side is the captain's room. Straight ahead is the main--or
after--cabin, a nice bright place with a skylight and four portholes.
There are four sofas that can be turned into beds if need be, and there
are lockers under them in which our clothes are stored away. Above and
behind each sofa is a berth concealed by white lace curtains on brass
rods, and in these berths we three women are laid away as on shelves
each night to sleep.
"Opposite the entrance is a mirror let into the wall, with two small
shelves under it. On each side of this is a door. The one to the right
leads ... to Lloyd's cabin, and beyond that again is the forward cabin,
or dining room. The door to the left opens into ... Louis'
sleeping-room. It is very roomy with both a bed and a sofa in it, so
that he will be very comfortable....
"The dining room has a long table and chairs. Between the doors a very
ugly picture of fruit and cake. Louis would fain cover it up if we could
spare a flag with which to do it. The doors at the further end lead to
the pantry and galley and beyond these are the men's quarters."
No expense had been spared in building the _Casco_ to make her
comfortable. She was intended, however, for cruising in the California
waters and was hardly suited to the rough handling she received during
the squally weather of the next few months. Fortunately she stood the
test well and her passengers suffered few discomforts.
Once under way and settled for living, the trip proved quite uneventful.
The long days were spent on deck reading or working, and Stevenson began
to gather material for a book on the South Seas. The ship's life suited
him admirably; every strange fish and new star interested him, and he
grew stronger hourly in the warm air.
"Since the fifth day," he wrote, "we were left behind by a full-rigged
English ship ... bound round the Horn, we have not spied a sail, nor a
land bird, nor a shred of sea-weed. In impudent isolation, the toy
schooner has plowed her path of snow across the empty deep, far from all
track of commerce, far from any hand of help; now to the sound of
slatting sails and stamping sheet blocks, staggering in the turmoil of
that business falsely called a calm, now, in the assault of squalls
burying her lee-rail in the sea.... Flying fish, a skimming silver rain
on the blue sea; a turtle fast asleep in the early morning sunshine;
the Southern Cross hung thwart the forerigging like the frame of a
wrecked kite--the pole star and the familiar plough dropping ever lower
in the wake; these build up thus far the history of our voyage. It is
singular to come so far and see so infinitely little."
The squalls that came very quickly, frequently broke the monotony of the
trip. One moment the _Casco_ would be sailing along easily and the "next
moment, the inhabitants of the cabin were piled one upon another, the
sea was pouring into the cockpit and spouting in fountains through
forgotten deadlights, and the steersman stood spinning the wheel for his
life in a halo of tropical rain."
After twenty-two days at sea they sighted their first island, Nukahiva,
one of the Marquesan group, and were all on deck before dawn anxiously
watching for it. They not only looked forward eagerly to the sight of
land again after so many days on the open ocean, but it was indeed an
adventure to come to a country totally strange to all of them, where
few white people had been before.
"Not one soul aboard the Casco had set foot upon the Islands," says
Stevenson, "or knew except by accident one word of any of the island
tongues; and it was with something perhaps of the same anxious pleasure
as thrilled the bosom of the discoverers that we drew near these
problematic shores.
"Before yet the anchor plunged a canoe was already paddling from the
hamlet. It contained two men: one white, one brown and tattooed across
the face with bands of blue, both immaculate with white European
clothes.... Canoe followed canoe till the ship swarmed with stalwart,
six foot men in every stage of undress ... the more considerable
tattooed from head to foot in awful patterns ... all talking and we
could not understand one word; all trying to trade with us who had no
thought of trading, or offering us island curios at prices palpably
absurd."
All this charmed and delighted Stevenson, who had dreamed many times of
witnessing just such a scene. He wrote to Cummie that he was living all
over again many of the stories she had read to him and found them coming
true about himself.
For six weeks they cruised about among these islands, frequently
dropping anchor and going ashore for several days. When the natives were
convinced that they had neither come to trade or to make trouble, but
were simply interested in them and their country, they made the visitors
most welcome and showered presents of fruit, mats, baskets, and fans
upon them.
All were eager to visit the schooner, which they called _Pahi Mani_,
meaning the shining or the silver ship. The chiefs tried to measure its
dimensions with their arms. The liveliest curiosity was shown about
everything; the red velvet cushions, the looking-glasses, and the
typewriter pleased particularly. A photograph of Queen Victoria hung in
the fore-cabin and was always described to the island callers as _Vahine
Haka-iki Beritano_, which meant literally, woman-great-chief Britain. It
was a surprise to find how much many of them already knew about her.
Some afternoons the _Casco_ swarmed with these strange visitors who were
always delighted at the refreshments of ship's biscuits and pineapple
syrup and water offered them. A certain chief was particularly taken
with a pair of gloves belonging to Mrs. Stevenson, senior. He smelled of
them, called them British tattooing, and insisted on her putting them on
and off a great many times.
The entire family fell quickly into the island mode of living; dressed
as the white inhabitants did; ate all the strange kinds of native food;
and when ashore lived in the native houses, which resembled bird-cages
on stilts. The climate suited them to perfection, and Stevenson
particularly benefited by it, bathing daily in the warm surf and taking
long walks along the beach in search of strange shells.
"Here we are," his mother wrote to Cummie, "in a little bay surrounded
by green mountains, on which sheep are grazing, and there are birds very
like our own 'blackies' singing in the trees. If it were not for the
groves of cocoanut palms, we might almost fancy ourselves in our own
dear land. But the climate here is simply perfect. Of course it is hot,
but there are always fresh breezes.... We have our principal meal at
twelve o'clock, and spend the after part of the day on shore ...
bathing, gathering shells, knitting, or reading. Our Japanese cook and
steward just sets out the table with cold meats, fruit, and cake so that
we can take our other meal at any time in the evening that suits us.
"Fanny and I are dressed like natives, in two garments. As we have to
wade to and from the boat in landing and coming back, we discard
stockings, and on the sands we usually go barefoot entirely. Louis wears
only a shirt and trousers with the legs and arms rolled up as far as
they will go, and he is always barefooted. You will therefore not be
surprised to hear that we are all as red as lobsters. It is a strange
irresponsible half savage life, and I sometimes wonder if we shall ever
be able to return to civilized habits again.
[Illustration: South Sea houses]
"The natives are very simple and kindly people. The Roman Catholic
priests have persuaded them to give up their constant wars and the
practice of cannibalism, though only within recent years....
"Louis has learned a good many words of the language, and with the help
of signs can contrive to carry on a conversation, but I have stuck fast
with two words: '_ka-oha_' which means 'How do you do?' 'thank you,' and
'good bye,' and I am not quite sure how much else, and '_Mitai_,'
meaning good, nice, pretty, kind. I don't expect to get beyond these,
but it is wonderful how much one can express with them....
"The natives have got names for us all. Louis was at first 'the old
man,' much to his distress; but now they call him '_Ona_' meaning owner
of the yacht, a name he greatly prefers to the first. Fanny is _Vahine_,
or wife; I am the _old woman_, and Lloyd rejoices in the name of _Maté
Karahi_, the young man with glass eyes (spectacles). Perhaps it is a
compliment here to be called old, as it is in China, at any rate, one
native told Louis that he himself was old, but his mother was not!...
"A native dance was got up for our benefit. None of the dancing-women
appeared, but five men dressed in shirt and trousers, danced together
with spirit and grace. The music was provided by a drum, made out of an
old tin box. Many of the steps reminded me of a Highland reel, but were
curiously mixed up with calisthenic, and even gymnastic exercises; the
hands in particular were used very gracefully, and they often took off
their hats and waved them to and fro. But they also climbed on each
other's shoulders, and did other strange things. After dancing for some
time, they sang songs to us in a curious, low, weird kind of crooning.
Altogether it was a strange sort of afternoon party!"
The Marquesas Islands belong to the French, and the commandant in
charge was most cordial to Stevenson, inviting him to his house
frequently during his stay in the islands. When at the expiration of six
weeks it was time for the _Casco_ to weigh anchor and the party sailed
on to explore still farther, they left behind them many friends who
regretted their departure. Here as elsewhere in the South Seas,
Stevenson showed his sympathy and kindliness toward the island people
regardless of who they were or their rank. White or half-caste priest,
missionary, or trader, all were treated the same. No bribe, he said,
would induce him to call the natives savages.
Mr. Johnstone, an English resident in the South Seas at the time of
Stevenson's visit, says: "His inborn courtesy more than any of his other
good traits, endeared him to his fellows in the Pacific ... in the
hearts of our Island people he built a monument more lasting than stone
or brass."
The recollection of the history of his own wild Scottish Islands, the
people and conditions his grandfather found among them, helped him to
understand these people and account for many of their actions. Though at
opposite ends of the earth, many of their customs and legends
corresponded. The dwellers in the Hebrides in the old days likewise
lived in clans with their chief and struggled to retain their
independence against an invading power.
Tahiti, one of the group of Society Islands, was their next stopping
place. Before starting a new mate was shipped, who was more familiar
with the course, which lay through the Dangerous Archipelago--a group of
low, badly lighted islands.
The Society Islands are most beautiful, Tahiti probably the gem of them
all, but on arriving Stevenson was in no condition to appreciate their
loveliness. A cold contracted on the trip made him quite ill. The trip
had proved very dangerous even with the aid of a pilot, and twice they
gave themselves up for lost when they were becalmed and drifted in
toward the shore. "The reefs were close in," wrote Stevenson, "with my
eye! What a surf! The pilot thought we were gone and the captain had a
boat cleared, when a lucky squall came to our rescue."
After landing his condition became so much worse his wife grew desperate
and determined to find a comfortable spot for him. After much trouble a
Chinaman with a team was secured, who agreed to drive the entire family
to Tautira, the largest village, sixteen miles away over a road crossed
by no less than twenty-one streams. On this uncertain venture they
started, with the head of the family in a state of collapse, knowing
nothing of the village they were going to or the living it would afford
them.
None of them ever regretted the perseverance which led them on, however,
for in all their wanderings in the South Seas before or after no place
ever charmed them more, or were they received with greater hospitality
than in Tautira.
The day after their arrival, Moe, an island princess and an ex-queen,
visited them. When she found Stevenson ill she insisted he and his
family be moved to her own house where they could have more comforts.
The house at the time was occupied by Ori, a subchief, a subject and
relative of the princess. But he and his family gladly turned out to
make room for the visitors and lived in a tiny house near by.
"Ori is the very finest specimen of native we have seen yet," wrote Mrs.
Stevenson. "He is several inches over six feet, of perfect though almost
gigantic proportions."
As soon as her husband was strong enough to be about again he and Ori
became great friends. Finally, according to an island custom, Stevenson
was adopted into Ori's clan and became his brother. This likewise meant
exchanging names and Ori became Rui, the nearest possible approach to
Louis since there is no L or S in the Tahitian language. Louis in turn
became Teriitera (pronounced Ter_ee_terah), which was Ori's Christian
name, Ori standing merely for his clan title.
To show their gratitude for the hospitality shown them by Ori and the
people of the village, Stevenson decided to give a public feast.
The feast day was set for Wednesday, and the previous Sunday a chief
issued the invitations from the Farehau, a house resembling an enormous
bird-cage in the centre of the village, from which all the news was read
aloud to the people once a week.
A feast of such size necessitated much preparation.
"The chief, who was our guide in the matter," wrote Mrs. Stevenson,
"found four large fat hogs, which Louis bought, and four cases of ship's
biscuit were sent over from the Casco, which is lying at Papeete for
repairs.... Our hogs were killed in the morning, washed in the sea, and
roasted whole in a pit with hot stones. When done they were laid on
their stomachs in neat open coffins of green basket work, each hog with
his case of biscuits beside him. Early in the morning the entire
population began bathing, a bath being the preliminary to everything.
At about three o'clock--four was the hour set--there was a general
movement toward our premises, so that I had to hurry Louis into his
clothes, all white even to his shoes. Lloyd was also in white, but
barefoot.... The chief, who speaks French very well, stood beside Louis
to interpret for him. By the time we had taken our respective places on
the veranda in front of our door, an immense crowd had assembled. They
came in five detachments.... Each set of people came bending under the
weight of bamboo poles laden with fruits, figs, fowls, etc. All were
dressed in their gayest and many had wreaths of leaves or flowers on
their heads. The prettiest sight of all was the children, who came
marching two and two abreast, the bamboo poles lying lengthwise across
their shoulders.
"When all the offerings had been piled in five great heaps upon the
ground, Louis made his oration to the accompaniment of the squealing of
pigs, the cackling of hens, and the roar of the surf.... A speech was
made in return on behalf of the village.... Each speaker finished by
coming forward with one of the smaller things in his hand, which he
offered personally to Louis, and then shook hands with us all and
retired. Among these smaller presents were many fish-hooks for large
fishing, laboriously carved from mother-of-pearl shell. One man came
with one egg in each hand saying 'carry these to Scotland with you, let
them hatch into cocks, and their song shall remind you of Tautira.' The
schoolmaster, with a leaf-basket of rose apples, made his speech in
French."
While overhauling the _Casco_ two or three days before they planned to
leave Tautira, Captain Otis was shocked to find the whole upper half of
the main masthead completely eaten out by dry-rot. This necessitated
taking the schooner around to Papeete, on the other side of the island,
for repairs. Under ordinary circumstances the setting of a new masthead
need to have delayed them but a few days; in the South Seas, however,
it was a different matter. Only after searching for days in Papeete was
he able to find a man who knew anything of ship-carpentering, and when
found he worked according to his own sweet will. So it was five weeks
before the _Casco_ was ready to return for her passengers, who in the
meantime were in a state of anxiety as to her whereabouts.
During their enforced stay Ori treated the entire family like a brother
indeed, doing everything in his power to make their visit pleasant.
At last, on Christmas Day, they were ready to depart. The entire
population of Tautira came to the beach to bid them farewell, and as the
_Casco_ swung out of the harbor one of the French officials fired a
salute of twenty-one guns with his army rifle and the schooner returned
it with a heavy-tongued Winchester.
Tautira had grown to seem like a real home to all of them. To leave it
with very little hope of ever returning to see such good friends as
Princess Moe and Ori was a real grief, while they in their turn were
quite heart-broken. Stevenson's friendship had brought something into
their lives they had never had before.
Honolulu was the goal of the _Casco_ now, and all eagerly looked forward
to the letters waiting for them there--the first word from home since
leaving San Francisco.
Bad weather attended the _Casco_ all the way. They were delayed by a
succession of hurricanes and calms until the supply of food ran very low
and they were reduced to a diet of "salt-horse" and ship-biscuit.
The last forty-eight hours of their run was made in the very teeth of a
furious gale when the captain took big risks by carrying full sail, with
the hope of making port before their supply of food and water was
entirely exhausted. In spite of the danger, Stevenson enjoyed this
daring run hugely. Later, when he and Lloyd wrote "The Wrecker"
together, this very episode figured in the story, Captain Otis under the
name of Captain Nares performing a similar sail-carrying feat on the
schooner _Norah Creina_.
Mrs. Strong, Stevenson's stepdaughter, and her family were waiting in
Honolulu and gave them a warm welcome. The travellers soon found
themselves the centre of interest among Mrs. Strong's large circle of
friends and it was with difficulty Stevenson found time to finish the
last chapters of "The Master of Ballantrae," which he had been working
on since leaving Saranac.
Honolulu, with its street-cars, shops, electric lights, and mixture of
native and foreign population, seemed strangely crowded and modern after
the scenes they had recently left; too modern by far to suit Stevenson,
who preferred the unconventional wild life of the islands they had come
from.
At the Royal Palace in Honolulu, Kalakaua, the last of the Hawaiian
kings, still held court. He enjoyed R.L.S. and invited him often to the
palace and told him the history and legends of many of the islands of
the South Seas. It was from Kalakaua he first learned to know the
troubled history of the Samoan Islands and of Apia, which was to be his
future home.
The Island of Molokai, the leper colony, lay not far off. While in
Honolulu he spent several days there, in the place where Father Damien
had lately done his splendid work.
According to their original scheme they were to return home from
Honolulu, but having come so far they were eager to see more. They had
tasted the dangers and fascination of the life among the wild islands,
each so different, and it had only whetted their appetites for what lay
still beyond. The chances of coming so far again were slight; it seemed
too good an opportunity to miss. So Stevenson wrote to the friends at
home, whom he longed daily to see: "Yes--I own up--I am untrue to
friendship and (what is less, but still considerable) to civilization. I
am not coming home for another year.... But look here and judge me
tenderly. I have had more fun and pleasure of my life these past months
than ever before, and more health than any time in ten long years....
And this precious deep is filled with islands which we may still visit,
and though the sea is a dreadful place, I like to be there, and like
squalls (when they are over) and to draw near to a new island I can not
say how much I like....
"Remember me as I was at home, and think of me sea-bathing and walking
about, as jolly as a sand boy; you will own the temptation is strong;
and as the scheme, bar fatal accidents, is bound to pay into the
bargain, sooner or later, it seems it would be madness to come home now,
with an imperfect book ... and perhaps fall sick again by autumn.
"It is a singular thing that as I was packing up old papers ere I left
Skerryvore, I came on the prophecies of a drunken Highland sibyl, when I
was sixteen. She said I was to be very happy,--to visit America and _to
be much upon the sea_.... I can not say why I like the sea ... my poor
grandfather it is from him I inherit the taste I fancy, and he was
around many islands in his day; but I, please God, shall beat him at
that before the recall is sounded."
So the _Casco_ was shipped back to San Francisco, Mrs. Stevenson,
senior, returned to Scotland for a visit, and the trading schooner
_Equator_ was chartered for a trip among the Marshall, Gilbert, and
Samoan Islands.
Just before leaving, the following letter came from Ori, which Stevenson
says he would rather have received than written "Red Gauntlet" or the
"Sixth Æneid."
"I make you to know my great affection. At the hour when you left us, I
was filled with tears; my wife Rui Telime, also, and all my household.
When you embarked I felt great sorrow. It is for this that I went upon
the road, and you looked from that ship, and I looked at you on the ship
with great grief until you had raised the anchor and hoisted the sail.
When the ship started I ran along the beach to see you still; and when
you were in the open sea I cried out to you 'Farewell Louis,' and when
I was coming back to my house I seemed to hear your voice crying, 'Rui,
farewell.' Afterwards I watched the ship as long as I could until the
night fell; and when it was dark I said to myself: 'If I had wings I
should fly to the ship to meet you,'... I wept then ... telling myself
continually, 'Teriitera returns to his own country and leaves his dear
Rui in grief.'... I will not forget you in my memory. Here is the
thought: I desire to meet you again. It is my Teriitera makes the only
riches I desire in this world. It is your eyes that I desire to see
again. It must be that your body and my body shall eat together at one
table, there is what would make my heart content. But now we are
separated. May God be with you all. May His word and His mercy go with
you, so that you may be well and we also, according to the words of
Paul.
"ORI A ORI, that is to say, RUI."
"All told," said Stevenson, "if my books have enabled or helped me to
make this voyage, to know Rui, and to have received such a letter, they
have ... not been writ in vain."