SOME SOUTH SEA ROYALTY
The islands that we are familiar with as the South Sea Islands are
properly called Oceania. Oceania is divided off in four distinct
parts, known as Polynesia, or the eastern islands; Australasia, or
the southern islands, including Australia; Melanesia, the islands
lying to the north and west of Australia; and Micronesia, which lies
to the north and west of Melanesia. The characteristics, the
languages, and the customs of the people of each distinct division
have no similarity.
The Polynesian people are supposed to be descended in mixed line
from the Spanish and original Tahitians. It is certain that they
have a strain of white blood in their makeup, for they have none of
the negroid characteristics found farther west. They are a quiet,
easy-going people, whom it would be hard to disturb. Their colour is
a light reddish-brown, and they have black eyes and hair and
well-rounded, intelligent faces. Very seldom is one of these people
angry. It must be something out of the ordinary to arouse their
anger, but when once aroused, they lose their heads entirely, they
make no discrimination between friends and foes, and they are best
given a wide berth until their fit of temper has passed.
Among the inhabitants of any community, will always be found some
characters of sufficient strength and uniqueness to distinguish them
from the herd. In the South Seas, they are usually chiefs, or old
retired sea-captains and beach-combers, who hold this position in
the Australasian, Melanesian and Micronesian sections, but in the
Polynesian section the place of honour unquestionably belongs to
Helene of Raiatea. Hers was the greatest power, though it was not a
vested one. She seemed a true South Sea queen.
Raiatea is another island of the Society group, and Helene's home.
She was the most prominent personage in these islands, and a typical
Polynesian. I had ample opportunity to study her--her every mood and
whim. Helene of Raiatea was known to all successful traders, and we
were advised to be pleasant to her, as the success or failure of
many a trader has depended on the smiles or frowns of Helene of
Raiatea. It is needless to say that we took the advice, and invited
Helene to be guest on board the _Snark_. Helene had no royal blood,
nor was she of chieftain stock, but many a chief or king had less
power than she.
She had been born with more energy than the average Kanaka, and a
constant mingling with the white people had given her ideas above
her class. A little over the average height, her figure was
admirable. Her skin was a light olive colour; she had two perfect
rows of teeth and a brain that seemed never to be still.
We had heard of her in the Marquesas Islands, and I was anxious to
make her acquaintance. During the hard fight getting through the
Paumota Archipelago, we had forgotten about her. On the first night
ashore, as I was walking about the town in company with the captain
of one of the German schooners, my mind was on other things. Life
was gay in Papeete. There were singing and dancing in the streets,
accordions everywhere, girls and boys strolling hand in hand or
eating fruit on the sidewalks. We had paused in the centre of the
market square, where life was the merriest. Young people would stop
their games to see who that strange person was and what he was doing
in Papeete. I felt self-conscious as I moved along, the cynosure of
hundreds of pairs of eyes. Of a sudden, a white-clad girl from the
throng laughingly grabbed my hand, and as if to ask a question, she
said: "_Iaorana_, Missionary," which means: "Hello, Missionary."
With these people, everyone is a missionary until they find out
otherwise, and they always greet a stranger as a missionary when he
first lands. The captain with me explained in their native tongue
who I was, and then I seemed to be taken in as one of them. Helene
drew us to the side of the street and made known that I could buy
her some flowers and fruit, and the captain and I squatted on the
sidewalk and ate watermelon, while she chattered away, asking
questions of the captain as fast as he could answer them. Several
other girls halted enquiringly, and Helene with a gesture told them
to be seated with us. Then I bought more flowers and fruit, and I
commenced to wonder if I was not "getting my leg pulled," until I
paid the whole bill and it amounted to something like ten cents. As
I had never had such a good time on so small an amount of money, I
got generous, and nodded to another group of girls to join us, but I
saw Helene frown at them, and they turned away. This was the first I
saw of Helene's power, but later on I observed that the white people
as well as the natives treated her with vastly more respect than the
ordinary Kanaka ever got.
On the day after I first met Helene, I had occasion to go to
Lavina's Hotel, where the Londons were staying. I found Helene
seated on the _lanai_, trying to make Jack understand what she was
saying. When I came up the walk, she jumped to her feet, and said,
"_Iaorana oae_" and I noticed that she no longer called me
missionary, nor was I ever called missionary again. I'm sure I never
gave any of them cause to mistake me for a missionary; in fact,
after the crew of the _Snark_ had become acquainted in Papeete, I'm
afraid the real missionaries did not approve of our keeping open
house to the natives. But the good-natured, hospitable people did us
so many favours and were constantly making us such generous presents
of fish that we made them welcome whenever they wished to visit us.
They would bring Jack bunches of their cooking bananas from the
mountains; and then Jack would lay down his writing, pass around
cigarettes, and talk to them. We easily picked up their language,
for it is so simple that little effort is required in its use.
Through the kindly services of Ernest Darling, the Nature Man, and
Helene, we soon were talking without any difficulty. The Tahitian
language has only about fourteen letters in its alphabet. There are
no singulars nor plurals, no modes, no tenses. Every letter is
pronounced. We were able to speak intelligibly after a little
practice.
Helene was an every-day visitor at the bungalow belonging to Captain
Y---- and myself, where she would wear only the native _pareu_. This
was allowable, as we lived outside the centre of town. Had we been
resident closer in, the French government would have forced all the
native girls who came to see us to wear _au-aus_. At times, Helene
would bring certain of her friends to the house, for they were
always sure of finding tobacco there. As I have said, all through
the South Seas the girls smoke as much as the men, and think nothing
of it, for the habit has been with them since the very introduction
of the weed. And now it has such a hold on them that no worse
punishment could be inflicted on these people than to deprive them
of their tobacco.
One day while Jack was in California, Helene came to the house
wanting to borrow a dollar to buy medicine to take to her mother.
The French physician stationed here charges one dollar to take a
case, and for that will supply the medicine and attend to the case
until the patient has no further use for him. A small lugger had
just come in from Raiatea, Helene's home. The captain had been
instructed to return at once with Helene and the medicine, and I was
at the beach that afternoon when the boat sailed. I must say that I
was glad that I had sailed on a nice big boat like the _Snark_,
instead of on one of those little luggers. Raiatea lies over a
hundred miles away from Papeete. And the boat was so small that none
of the fifteen passengers could go below. But Helene did not seem to
be afraid, and in ten days when she returned, she brought a couple
of dozen big watermelons, for she knew that watermelons were the
best present she could give us.
One Sunday, Helene and I decided to go out buggy-riding, thinking
that we could make some good pictures. Early in the morning, I went
to the stable, and was assured by a big, lazy Kanaka that in one
hour he would send me the best he had, and I wondered what it would
be, for all I could see was an old cart, a broken-down hearse with
the glass sides smashed in, and a buggy made of parts of a wagon and
another buggy. At present it had one wheel off. But in two hours I
found out. When I went to the gate, I saw the Kanaka beating a poor,
starved horse which would not move out of a walk, and which stopped
by our bungalow. Well, we drove, I think, about five miles that day,
when the horse refused to go further. The top fell off the buggy,
and the harness broke several times. But anyway, we got some fine
pictures.
On one of the regular trips of the steamer _Mariposa_, while getting
my hair cut by the ship's barber, as I sat in the chair I noticed
several pairs of ladies' shoes in boxes on the shelf. I don't know
what use the barber had for them, but it gave me an idea, and as
soon as I could find Captain Y---- I told him of it, and then we
hunted Helene and took her aboard and fitted her out with shoes and
stockings. It was laughable to see her strut around Papeete that
day. The shoes hurt her feet, for she had never worn shoes before.
None of the native girls in Papeete had ever worn shoes. That night
she walked around the market square so long that soon she was
limping. Next day she was again barefooted, and I never saw the
shoes again. In that she was like all the natives, childish; they
are anxious for something new, but soon tire of it when they get it.
I would sit for hours telling her of the rest of the world; of
circuses, of trains, of tall skyscrapers. She would listen as quiet
as could be until I had finished, and then ask questions. But it was
not until a man with a moving-picture machine came to Papeete that I
had the delight of seeing the height of her enjoyment. At one end of
the square, an enterprising Frenchman built a frame building which
he called "Folies Bergere." Here every Saturday night he gave
moving pictures. I took Helene, and Captain Y---- took Taaroa,
another native girl. I never enjoyed a show so much in my life. I
secured seats near the front, in such a position that Helene would
miss none of it. From the first picture to the last, her face
changed from expressions of astonishment and delight to horror and
fear. The whole audience was in the same state of excitement. There
were reels of film showing large cities and railway trains, and
magic pictures that none of these people had ever seen the like of.
It was many a day before the natives could understand that it was
not supernatural. And with my meagre knowledge of their language, I
was hard put to explain to them how it was done.
They were like frightened rabbits when the fire department came
charging down the street. When the swift-rushing teams got close,
looking as if they would plunge out of the screen and into the
audience, screams went up and there was nearly a panic in the house.
How they laughed at the comic films! But the last thing was supposed
to be the devil in hell, pitching people into the fire. Since seeing
that, they were afraid of the least sound. Afraid of the _deipelo_,
they said; and we could not convince them that the picture was not
real, for, they argued, if it was not real, how could anyone take a
picture of it?
When Jack came back from California, we learned that we had been
lost at sea, and that the _Snark_ was a very unseaworthy craft,
anyway. Throughout the States, newspapers and magazines had
persisted in reporting us dead, every last one of us. I was told
that an Oakland bank had even begun an agitation to wind up the
affairs of Jack London, deceased. And of course the prophets of
disaster had welcomed this evidence of their own amazing foresight,
this news of prophecy fulfilled.
The engines of the _Snark_ were still giving us trouble. The big one
was just like a watch that seems all right, but won't run. It looked
in fine condition, but often refused to start, and developed a
hot-box on some one of the four cylinders when run for any length of
time.
One night, along in the early part of March, Captain Y---- came to
me and asked me to stay on the _Snark_ for him for a little while.
Away outside the reef was a ship, just barely to be seen, that was
shooting skyrockets and cannon, as an evidence of distress. It was
thought to be one of the Maxwell trading schooners, one month
overdue from the southern Taumotu islands. A little gasolene
schooner was chartered, and Captain Y---- and some others went out
to it. It was not the trading vessel after all, but (to my great
surprise) the Chinese war-junk _Whang-Ho_ which I had been aboard of
in California. They were sixty-eight days out of Frisco for New
York; but the _Whang-Ho_ was never intended to be handled by modern
sailors; she had been blown to Papeete, leaking badly--the men, we
afterward found out, had been obliged to pump her night and day.
There were eight in the crew, all Americans. Captain Y---- went
aboard, and made them pay one hundred and twenty-five dollars to be
towed in. Once safe on land, the men swore they would go no farther
in the ancient junk.
The natives watched the _Whang-Ho_ with considerable awe. Never had
they seen anything like it. Certainly, the ship was the strangest
thing afloat--great eyes were painted on her square bow, the Chinese
thinking that a boat needs something to see with. The big galley aft
was painted yellow, and the tall, tree-like masts were brilliant
red. I believe the _Whang-Ho_ had once been in royal service in
China.
Speaking of royalty, I think Ernest Darling might well be called the
King of the Open Air. He never lives indoors--if he can help it.
While at Papeete, we learned his story, and an interesting story it
is.
Twelve years before, he had been lying on a deathbed in Portland,
Oregon. It seemed that nothing could be done to save him. He was a
wreck. The doctor told him what had caused his breakdown. Overstudy,
was the medico's verdict; overstudy had put the final destructive
touch on a constitution already broken and enervated by two attacks
of pneumonia. His body was irreparably wasted, and his mind was fast
going.
Ernest Darling lay on that bed of sickness, awaiting inevitable
death. He could not bear the slightest noise. Medicine drove him
desperate. The day came when he could stand it no longer. He
tottered from his bed, escaped from the house, and crawled for
miles through the brush. Here, in the silent spaces, close to
nature's heart, he found rest and quiet. He bathed in the soothing
rays of the sun, stripping off all clothing, clinging close to the
moist earth as he bathed. Life, full and free, seemed to flow into
his veins as he lay there. The sun was the real life-giver, he
thought, noting his relief; that, with the balmy air, was all that
he needed.
For three months he lived thus. He built him a primitive house of
leaves and grasses, roofed over with bark. No meat passed his
lips--only fruits and nuts, with occasional bits of bread. Every day
he put on more weight, and the intolerable agony of his nerves
subsided.
But at the end of the three months, the heavy rains forced him to
return to Portland and take up once more his abode in his father's
house. Then came the relapse. He lost all he had gained. A third
time he grappled with pneumonia, and came out of the struggle nearer
death than ever. His mind collapsed utterly. Ernest Darling was
tried by alienists, found insane, and told that he had less than a
month to live.
They took him to an asylum, where he was allowed to live once more
on fruits and nuts. Again strength came to him. Leaving the
sanatorium, he got a bicycle and went south to California, where he
attended Stanford University for a year, going to his classes as
simply garbed as possible. When winter came, he was obliged to
head further south. Several times he was arrested and tested for his
sanity.
[Illustration: MISSION SCHOONER TRADING AMONG THE ISLANDS AND
"PREACHING" FROM THE VESSEL]
Finding that no one would let him alone, and not desiring to end his
days in either an asylum or a jail, he made his way to Hawaii. But
there was no relief for him. Here he was given his choice between
leaving Hawaii or going to prison for a year.
Darling went to Tahiti. And there, at last, after all his wanderings
and harassments, he found a haven. The Tahitians and French neither
jailed him nor questioned his sanity. He spent his days in the open,
on a tract of land he bought, near Papeete; and his food he picked
from his own trees. When in town, he was busy in such simple
shopping as he found necessary, or in expounding the principles of
Socialism, in which he was a devoted believer.
We had lived in Papeete three months and a half before everything
was ready for us to start again through the islands. We had decided
to visit the island of Moorea first, then, on a special invitation
from Helene, we were going to Raiatea.
Before leaving Papeete, we got a new sailor, a French boy named
Ernest. Ernest was signed on the French bark _Elizabeth_ as ordinary
seaman. When our captain offered him a job on the _Snark_, he ran
away from the French ship, and lived on fruit in the mountains until
she had sailed, when he came down and joined us. He was eighteen
years old, spoke little English, and was an all-around sailor. He
had been round the world twice. He was very tall--one inch taller
than I was--so that he was likewise obliged to stoop when he went
below.
We were three hours and forty minutes getting out of Papeete Harbor
and dropping anchor in Moorea Bay. On this trip, the engine ran
perfectly; and it is hard to say which was the most pleased--Jack,
Mrs. London, or I. I took Mr. and Mrs. London ashore in the launch,
then came back and went to bed with a terrible headache, and did not
have time to get a good idea of the bay until next morning. It is
about three quarters of a mile wide, by one and a half long, and
reminded me very much of Taiohae Bay in the Marquesas. All around
range the mountains, ragged peaks with the sides one mass of green,
with cocoanut palms half way to the top. The beach was a jungle of
palms and bananas. With the glass, we could count as many as seventy
cocoanuts on one tree. All day I painted the engine room, and that
night walked with Ernest two miles along the beach to the village,
which consisted of three Chinese stores and a bunch of grass houses.
Along the way we met Kanakas, looking very cool, dressed only in
their _pareu_ cloth.
"_Iaorana!_" they all greeted us, and with some joke passed
laughingly on. When we got aboard, I started the searchlight, and
turned it on the huts along the beach. The Kanakas would come out
and watch us, and some of the _vahines hula-hula'd_ for us. In the
glare of the light, I could see Jack and Mrs. London eating in the
open-air dining place of MacTavish, a white man, who boards any
person who ever drifts to Moorea.
Next morning, I took the Londons out in the launch to make
photographs; but in an hour the launch-engine stopped, and I had to
land them, while I repaired it. I had it in good running order again
in an hour.
During our stay, Kanaka men and women and girls paddled out, and we
let them aboard. Great was their curiosity at the electric lights.
One Kanaka wanted to turn them on and off so much that I had to
switch the current off at the engine room, so that the lights went
dead; but they could hardly keep away from the five-horse-power
engine, which I ran most of the time in order to fill the storage
batteries. I took some of the girls out in the launch, to their
almost frantic pleasure. I towed an outrigger canoe with two girls
across the bay, and as quick as they could paddle back they wanted
me to do it again.
Darling, the Nature Man, and Young, a Socialist, had accompanied us.
It was amusing to see Darling splash along shore in the shallow
water, catching fish. At times he lay in the shade of a tree,
resting. When a crowd of natives gathered around him, he would jump
up and yell like an Indian war dancer, which performance always
doubled the natives with laughter. They all like Darling, and he
likes them. He told us that he knew he would be making a fool of
himself among white people, but that he liked to amuse the Kanakas.
Darling was full of energy--much different from the wraith of a man
who had lain on his bed in Portland, Oregon, looking forward to
nothing but death. He chopped wood for Wada and made trips up the
mountains after fruit. He had the deck lined with half a dozen
different varieties of bananas.
The next day I spent in reading and sleeping, except when I took the
launch to go watch the Kanaka boys fish. They first catch a small
fish among the coral banks, then bite out a chunk for bait; then
another chunk, which they eat. I have seen them eat fish raw, just
as they were pulled wriggling from the water. But usually they soak
them in vinegar before eating. Raw fish is the favourite dish among
the Kanakas. I tried to develop an appetite, but I fear I made no
startling success.
We were a week at Moorea; then a casting on the engine broke, making
it necessary for us to return to Papeete. It was just before we
started back that a long canoe, filled with men and women, paddled
past us and bombarded us with oranges until the decks were covered,
then paddled away, its occupants laughing and shouting. Darling said
the oranges were to pay us for being so good to them. The Moorea
orange is nearly green in colour, and tastes the same as the
California variety.
We had difficulty in getting away. I had a short circuit on the
wires that I was puzzled to find; but when we were finally able to
start, I beat my record coming over by forty-five minutes.
Arrived at Papeete, it took two days to put the machinery in order
again. We then set sail for Raiatea. It was on April 4 that we
cleared Papeete Harbor. The usual large crowd had assembled to see
us off. After getting about five miles off the reef, I stopped the
engine, which was running splendidly. We sailed all night with a
fair breeze, and in the morning sighted Huahina, which we steered
for, but kept one mile off the lee shore until we had left it far
behind. Soon Raiatea was sighted. Its ragged peaks looked at a
distance the same as Tahiti or Moorea. When about twenty miles off,
I started the engine. We got through the reefs and anchored in the
bay by seven o'clock.
On account of engine repairs having delayed us, Helene had given up
our coming, and had gone to the mountains to visit relatives. But
she heard that we were in the bay, and next day we were honoured by
a visit from her. She came out to the _Snark_ in a small canoe, and
invited us ashore to her home. Jack had promised us every night off
while at this island, so Ernest and I took the launch for shore. We
took a five-mile walk along the beach and up the mountain to her
mother's house. Along the shore, grass huts were built on stilts
over the water. Kanakas sat, or rather squatted, all along the road,
and each greeted us in the native tongue. We found the house away
back among the mountains, a long, low grass house, with a huge
waterfall made by a mountain stream in the rear. Oranges, limes,
cocoanuts, papaias, guavas, bananas, and several kinds of fruit I
cannot spell the name of, were thick for miles up and down the
valley. We found Helene, her mother and her father, and several
other members of the family, and were given a hearty welcome. Ernest
talked French, Helene and her mother, Kanaka, while I used English,
French and Kanaka--and we all used gestures. Her father could speak
only the native tongue, and was an ordinary Kanaka. Her mother was a
typical Tahitian. So I have never been able to understand why Helene
should be so far above her class. Her environment had been no
better; it must have been some strength of character, some intrinsic
worth, that elevated her in station and in mind. Anyway, she proved
that she was a person of authority on her own island when she
ordered a big feast prepared in our honour, and the natives gathered
with roasted wild boar and gave an imitation of their old-time
"long-pig" feast.
We stayed at Helene's home until one o'clock in the morning. We
remained four days on the island. Helene came to the village, to
stay while we were in port. Later, we took a daylight trip to her
mountain home, in order to enjoy the natural beauties. The scene
from the waterfall was great. We had viewed some wonderful scenery
in the Hawaiian and Marquesas Islands, but nothing to compare with
this. There was not a sign of cultivation anywhere--everything in
its wild natural state; and as for fruit, it was everywhere in
abundance, buds, blossoms, half-ripe and ripe fruit on the trees at
the same time.
Before going further with the voyage of the _Snark_, and while the
_Snark_ is still anchored at Raiatea Island, I want to tell of the
comic opera war that once occurred here.
The natives of Raiatea, tired of the French system of government,
pulled down the French flag, and raised the flag of England. They
put the French officials then living in Raiatea adrift in open
boats. These people made their way to Papeete and informed the
governor, who had never seen any more active service than strutting
around the streets of Papeete, and did not know what to do in such
an emergency. The governor went to the British consul stationed
here, and demanded that he cause the natives of Raiatea to lower the
British flag. Now the British consul was only a figure-head, and had
never attended to any duties other than signing pratique papers for
the British ships that came here. Sometimes as many as two or three
a year dropped anchor in Papeete. The rest of the time there was
nothing to do. So now he was nonplussed. Long debates took place. At
last it was agreed that both governor and consul should go to
Raiatea and put down the rebellion.
The French man-of-war _Zelle_ transported them to Raiatea, and the
two officials landed under the white flag of truce. The chiefs
received them, and the two emissaries demanded that they raise the
French flag. The chiefs refused, and gave the officers half an hour
to get back to the ship. Then the warship shelled the village; but
by that time all the natives had made for the brush; and finally,
after five or six days' shelling, the sailors landed again and
lowered the flag without opposition, for the Kanakas had realised
that their fight was useless. But the funny thing about the whole
business was that for at least four days the warship had been
shelling an empty village.
The islands of Raiatea and Tahaa are in reality one island that has
been cut through the middle by some volcanic disturbance. The
distance from Raiatea Island to Tahaa is less than seven miles. The
tides often sweep through here with such force that small canoes
have spent days getting across the channel. Just as we were
preparing to sail from Raiatea Island, a tiny outrigger canoe with a
big sail hove in sight. In it was a big, almost naked Kanaka named
Tehei. He invited Jack and Mrs. London to take a ride in his queer
craft, an invitation they cheerfully accepted. They went over to
Tahaa, the island seven miles away, and stayed two days, fishing and
hunting. On their return, we set out with the _Snark_ through coral
reefs where a hundred feet either way would wreck us. At Tahaa we
picked up the Kanaka Tehei and his wife, with two canoe-loads of
fruit, a pig, chickens and _poi_. Jack informed us that Tehei had
begged very hard to be allowed to go with us to the island of Bora
Bora, our last stop in the Society Islands, and that he had yielded
to his solicitations. Indeed, Tehei had wanted to go clear to Samoa,
but to this Jack shook his head. Tehei had brought his wife,
Bihaura, along. To her, also, was given permission to go with us to
Bora Bora. Tehei and his wife returned to their house, and early
next morning, with a light wind, we crossed the lagoon under power
to the point where Tehei and Bihaura were to meet us. As we made
into the land between banks of coral, we could see Tehei among the
trees, running down toward the beach. He was afraid we would not see
him, so he pulled off his shirt and waved it as he ran. Once aboard,
Tehei informed us that we must proceed along the land until we got
opposite his house. He took the wheel and guided the _Snark_ through
the coral, and we reached the beach. Here was another offering of
fruit and fowl, two more canoe-loads awaiting us.
All the time that the fruit was being loaded in the cockpit and aft
the cockpit, piled up to the railing, I had been letting the engine
run free without the propellers in gear; the old engine had never
worked better, and Jack was just commenting on how smoothly it was
running, when it gave a mighty backfire and stopped, and in a very
dangerous place, for the currents were running very swift through
here and there was no wind that we might sail by. The crew on deck,
with the help of several Kanakas, braced the long oars that we kept
for the life-boat, and eight oars worked an hour while I toiled at
the engine and finally got it running just as they were nearly
exhausted. I threw the clutch into gear again, and with Tehei at the
bow to look out for coral reefs, we slowly threaded our way out of
countless reefs projecting only a few inches above the surface of
the water. Canoes skimmed over the water ahead, showing us the way
through the reefs.
Tehei was invaluable. Had it not been for him, I do not believe we
would ever have gotten out of that maze of reefs. Now that I have a
chance to think over that day's work, I don't believe that I ever
had so much experience crowded into a single day before.
With the engines running smoothly, I would go on deck and look over
the rail, down on remote bottoms where fish of every hue and colour
played among the dense forests of coral. Islands were on every side
of us, high rugged peaks, some of them a hundred miles away, and
near us small low atolls covered with a riotous growth of cocoanuts.
The day was perfect--very little wind, and with the awning stretched
over the decks and all sails furled, we slid over the smooth surface
of the water straight for Bora Bora. After we left the coral reefs
behind, Tehei and Bihaura lay down on deck and went to sleep. Jack
and Mrs. London were at work grinding out reading matter for the
American public, the rest of the crew were asleep in their bunks,
and I sat on the edge of the open skylight and divided the time
between watching the engine and gazing over the dozens of small
islands.
This was the real South Seas that I had read about, dreamed about,
and had never expected to see. Numerous small canoes would put out
from the islands and try to board us, but we moved too fast for
them, and after paddling till they were out of breath, they would
drift back.
At noon dinner was served on deck, entirely of fruit and raw fish.
Then everyone went to sleep again, except Captain Y---- at the wheel
and myself at the engine. About three in the afternoon the engine
started backfiring and knocking so that I was kept in the engine
room the rest of the day. With every backfire, the cylinders would
lose gas until the engine room was almost unbearable to work in. But
if we were to get to Bora Bora that night, I must keep busy with
them. Our engine was a seventy-horse-power Twentieth Century, with
four cylinders. I would run on two cylinders until they got hot,
then turn them off and turn on the other two, and so kept up the
hardest afternoon's work I ever did.
It was close to nine o'clock when we reached Bora Bora, and by that
time I was nearly dead; but I kept working on the engines. I was
doing the only thing possible, though the last few hours seemed a
blank to me. The people on deck knew nothing about engines, so they
could not help me. They were unaware that I was nearly dead below.
I think that during the last hour some power diabolical must have
got hold of the engine. I lost consciousness and fell on the floor,
and knew nothing till the big gong working in the cockpit gave me
the signal to stop the engine. I aroused myself long enough to throw
the switch and crawl through the hatchway; then I knew nothing more
until several hours later, when I found Mrs. London bathing my face
in cold water and the Japanese chafing my limbs with coarse towels.
I was certainly near death's door, nearer than I can ever get
without actually dying. They told me afterward that my heart was
barely beating.
And I think I realise what it must be to be dead, for the only
memory I have of that awful period is that I thought I was dead. The
gas gave me a queer roaring sensation that seemed like some
unearthly music; and had not the gong sounded when it did, I fear it
would have been all the music I should ever have heard. How I roused
myself enough to shut off the power and get on deck, is a mystery to
me now. Many times, even after the lapse of several years, I awaken
with that queer feeling of dying, and always I seem to be aboard the
_Snark_. It was barely midnight when I gained consciousness, to hear
the sound of music and of singing floating across the quiet lagoon.
Next morning I was still weak, so I did not clean my engines as I
usually did after a long run, but went ashore to see the life of
Bora Bora.
The whole island rose up to entertain us, and the good people gave
us ten days of the best time I ever had. Tehei's wife was of royal
blood, and her influence caused the natives to make special effort
for our entertainment. The night after our arrival, Tehei invited
Jack, Mrs. London, Captain Y---- and me ashore, where we had a
dinner such as surpasses description. Fruits prepared in every way a
true Kanaka likes, sucking pig, chicken fried in cocoanut oil,
watermelon, and raw fish! This last is one of the choicest of South
Sea dishes. The fish, freshly caught, are cleaned and soaked an hour
in lime-juice. It is delicious. Although we could speak very little
with the Kanakas, we enjoyed watching them, and they enjoyed
watching us.
After the meal, we went to a large oval, bamboo missionary-house,
and watched an old Kanaka missionary drill what he called his
_himines_. A score of girls, decorated with flowers, formed a
semi-circle in front. Back of these stood the Kanaka men, and behind
them the boys. Their music was more like grunts, but the wild, weird
noise made my blood tingle. The boys kept swaying their bodies with
the song and clapping their hands, at times beating themselves on
the chest and chanting. This finished, a surprise was in store for
us. Natives came in with chicken, watermelons, vegetables, fruit and
fish, and made a pile that two boats the size of the _Snark_ would
find difficulty in floating under. Then a big Kanaka got up and
presented it to us. Jack thanked them, but had to decline the
greater part, for want of carrying capacity. Even as it was, our
deck looked like a market.
Bora Bora is a marvellous island. Twenty miles in circumference, it
is surrounded by dozens of smaller islands, each in turn surrounded
by its own coral reefs. From our deck, I could count eight of these
small islands, some only a few acres, others about three or four
miles around, all covered, save for the sandy beach, with a thick
green jungle of tropical trees. We were twenty-five miles from
Raiatea and one thousand miles from Samoa.
Only three persons on the island could speak English. There were
half a dozen frame huts; all the rest were of grass, or bamboo. The
natives wore nothing but the red _pareus_, or breech-clouts.
We were anchored a half-mile out, but the launch made the trip to
the beach in a few minutes. The whole deck was covered with awnings,
and we ate and slept on deck. The three engines were running all
right, though it kept me pretty busy attending to them; it took a
good deal of electricity just at that time, for the fans were
running almost without intermission, and I had connected drop-lights
on deck, whereby we might see to read or write at night. The natives
were unremitting in their attentions. They came out by canoe-loads,
bringing us food of various sorts--that is, all but the women, who
found the ship "taboo."
[Illustration: THE HAUNT OF THE CROCODILE, SOLOMON ISLANDS]
Bora Bora was the most primitive place we had yet visited. All along
the beach, the long outrigger canoes were propped up on logs cut out
for the purpose. The beach itself was sown thick with forgotten
graves. On the morning of the third day, Tehei came aboard, and
informed us that he had planned a mammoth stone-fishing for us. It
was to be the biggest in the history of the island. Runners had been
sent to the interior of the island and around the coast. These men
were telling every inhabitant of Bora Bora about the stone-fishing;
and in the afternoon the people began to gather in the village, and
that night we were invited ashore to a big entertainment, gotten up
on the spur of the moment. We were given seats on the grass in the
centre of the village green, and around us squatted brown-skinned
and black-haired men and women and girls and boys. They would sing
their weird, barbarous tunes and keep time by swaying their bodies
and gesturing with the arms. Then a few of them would dance, while
the crowd cheered--not such dances as we see in civilised places,
but something so strange and indescribable as to arouse the
disbelief of some who have never travelled in the South Seas. They
would dance so slowly that they would scarcely be moving; then away
they would go, like a mad whirlwind. The crowd urged them on.
Finally, the dance would cease as abruptly as it had begun, while
the dancers would sink down exhausted. On going aboard the _Snark_
late that night, Jack remarked on the contrast between their easy,
care-free lives, and the artificial, wearing lives of the so-called
civilised people.
Early next morning we were awakened by the conch shells, signalling
for the people to gather at the beach. This conch shell is used by
heralds all through the South Seas. Once heard, the sound is never
forgotten. I brought back a number of these shells, when I returned
to America.
Going on deck, I saw canoe-load after canoe-load of natives putting
off from the beach, and among them a big double canoe paddled by
fourteen girls. Two men sat in the stern to steer, and on a little
platform at the bow, dancing and singing, were Tehei and Bihaura.
They had borrowed our large American flag, and had it waving at the
bow. This canoe-load of the belles of Bora Bora came alongside the
_Snark_ and received Jack and Mrs. London, while Captain Y---- and I
followed in the gasolene launch. I had nine kodaks and cameras
arranged in the launch, so that I could use any one I wanted and use
it quickly. From the _Snark_ to the place of the fishing was about
three miles. Riding in the launch, I often caught up with the other
canoes, then stopped the engine and drifted back again, and
sometimes I circled round the big double canoe. Jack once asked me
if I did not wish I were among that bunch of girls, and he thought
he was getting the better of me, until I ran alongside and three of
the girls jumped in the launch, after which I sped on, with the
laugh on Jack. The girls had never been in a motor-boat before, and
they held on for dear life. The launch outdistanced all the other
boats, arriving at the place of fishing half an hour before the
rest.
After all the canoes had beached, the ceremony began. Tehei assigned
to each of the fishers his or her duty; then nearly one hundred
canoes, each with a couple of men, paddled out from the shore about
three miles. And then, at a signal, the boats, which were spread out
in a long line, moved slowly toward the shore, one man paddling and
another rattling strings of shells in the water, and all yelling at
the top of their voices. The men who paddled the canoes splashed as
much water as possible, while their companions rattled the shells,
the object being to frighten the fish toward the shore, where the
water was shallow. They gradually closed in as they moved shoreward,
while girls with nets of leaves waded out in readiness to close in
on the canoes. The boats were an hour getting near the beach. As
they approached closer and closer, the girls formed a palisade of
their legs, and made a net of leaves. And Tehei, armed with a spear,
stood in the corral formed by the girls. He was to kill the first
fish, and it was to be presented to Jack London, along with the
spear and an invitation to kill as many as he might want. Such is
Polynesian hospitality. Tehei proudly made ready for the initial
slaughter. But the canoes drew closer and closer, and Tehei rubbed
his eyes in wonder. Then he dropped the spear. There were no fish
to kill. Tehei hunted for fifteen minutes, and then, satisfied that
there were no fish within that human palisade, he turned to Jack,
the most forlorn looking person in Bora Bora. He was ashamed of
himself, he was ashamed of the rest of the natives, and he was
ashamed of the fish, and of Bora Bora. The poor fellow felt so
humiliated that Jack hastened to invite as many as could crowd
aboard the _Snark_ to join us in a feast that night. This they were
not slow in doing. That evening we fed them hardtack and tinned
salmon, which they washed down with good old Holland gin. When they
left, they declared that they had never had such a good time before.
And so the days passed in this land of abundance. Every day we were
surrounded by canoes, anxious to see the _Snark_ and her white crew.
The natives were too polite to come aboard the _Snark_ without being
invited. One day, when I was drowsing lazily on deck, close to the
engine room hatchway, so that I could keep one eye on the dynamo
engine, which was chugging away filling the storage batteries for
that night's run of lights and fans, and the other eye on the water,
a big Kanaka paddled up close in his canoe, and asked politely if he
could come aboard and peep--just peep--below into the engine room.
Mrs. London, sitting on the rail, pointed to a big watermelon in the
canoe, and made known to the Kanaka that I was inordinately fond of
watermelon. Immediately, the native passed over the melon to me, and
I took him below. His astonishment was supreme at the maze of
machinery, lights that turned on and off at will, and the most
wonderful thing of all, fans! Then I started the big engine for him,
and he left the engine room with his head in a whirl.
That afternoon, canoe-load after canoe-load of watermelons came off
to the _Snark_, and each time I would exhibit the engine room; and
once, while a crowd of natives were on deck, I gave one two live
ends of electric wire. With a yell he jumped overboard, and after
that they were careful not to touch anything that I had aught to do
with.
Bihaura, being of royal blood, had houses in several of the
adjoining islands. The one in Bora Bora was her headquarters. One
day while at her home, I noticed a large eight-day clock hanging on
the wall. It looked as if it had not run for years. Examining it, I
found that all it needed was cleaning, so I took it aboard and put
it in good shape. Then I hung it again on her wall, and started it
running. It was the only timepiece on the island. The natives would
peek in at the door and watch and wonder. Next day, a Kanaka stopped
me, with about half a dozen old clock wheels that he wanted me to
make into a clock. I fell several points in Bora Bora estimation
when I was forced to acknowledge that I could not tinker the old
wheels into an effective clock: but next night I regained what I had
lost when I made the graphophone talk.
Jack had taken the machine ashore, and was playing to several
hundred people in the _himine_ house, when the rachet spring slipped
out of position, making it impossible to wind the machine. Jack send
aboard for me, and I came ashore and straightened the spring in
position, a thing Jack could have done had he thought of it. But he
didn't think of it--and immediately I was restored to high favour
among the Bora Bora natives.
After ten days of this delightful life, it was time for us to go. On
the day of sailing, the natives tried to outdo all their previous
generosity, piling the _Snark_ knee-deep with abundance of fruit,
chickens, vegetables, fish, and other good things. There were yams,
taro, cocoanuts, limes, bananas, papaias, pineapples and
pomegranates. The life-boat, the launch, and the deck were piled
full. And when, at one o'clock on the afternoon of April 15, 1908,
we set sail from Bora Bora, hundreds of natives came to the beach to
shake our hands, and to wish us a safe voyage and a quick return.
We were genuinely sorry to leave. Our hearts' roots seemed to have
found grateful soil in Bora Bora. The place is a happy paradise; and
the life is one to envy. Everything seems to work for good to the
natives. If a man's house gets old, and he wants to move, he need
only spend a few days gathering palm-leaves and bamboo; then his new
habitation can be built in a day. The man of Bora Bora need not
cultivate his land--Nature does it for him. The earth bears
prosperously, a hundred times more than can be eaten. What has
civilisation to offer that can sway the balance of one's judgment in
its favour?
When we sailed from this happy island, we carried with us a new
member of the crew. Jack had yielded at last to Tehei's pleas, and
had consented to allow him to go with us. Bihaura was taken back to
Tahaa by six lusty Kanakas in a cutter.
We made our way straight out of the reef. It was a great relief to
me to be able to be on deck, viewing the scenery, instead of down in
the engine room. Tehei proved a valuable helper. He was a
full-blooded Kanaka, thirty years of age, and could speak no
English, but none the less, he was able to understand Captain Y----
's orders. For the first day and night, however, he spent most of
his time weeping and praying, for he was unused to leaving home, and
moreover was seasick.
I stayed on deck all afternoon, taking my last look at the Society
Islands. We were now bound for the Samoan group, a ten-day run as we
figured it. The _Snark_ was so thickly packed with presents of all
sorts that there was hardly room to walk, even though every toss of
the boat sent bushels of oranges, bananas, and other fruits sliding
into the sea. When I went to bed, the island we had so lately
quitted was still visible.
On April 19, we were calmed. The sails flapped, the _Snark_ rose and
fell with the swell of the ocean, but we made little progress. That
night Jack read to us an article he had written, entitled: "The
Other Animals"--a reply to President Roosevelt and John Burroughs,
who had charged Jack with being a "nature faker." Jack had intended
to make no reply to the charge, but a big American magazine kept
after him so persistently that he could not refuse. On the 20th, I
spent some hours painting the engine room and the engines. These
latter I coloured dark brown, with the pipes red; the walls I made a
yellowish-brown, and the dynamo black. I then polished all the
working parts like a mirror. And when I had finished, I called in
the crew, for I knew that seeing the ship trim and shipshape always
encouraged them. The next day I put in in developing and printing
pictures for Jack. Nakata, Jack, Tehei and myself wore nothing
during this time but _pareu_ loin-cloths, and the rest garbed
themselves as simply as possible, for the heat was overpowering. It
did not prevent our boxing, however--Jack and I had five rounds in
the evening, and I got a cut lip and he a scraped nose. Jack is an
expert boxer, but I had the advantage on reach. While I was busy
below, the men on deck painted everything above white, and looked to
the condition of every shroud, halyard and timber. As Captain Y----
said, the little ketch had "put on her glad rags."
Everyone slept on deck, Jack and Mrs. London on the starboard side,
Ernest, Nakata, Wada and Tehei on port, mid deck, captain aft the
cockpit, and I slept away up in the bow. The southeast trades made
life bearable on these hot nights; while we could not feel them on
the sails, we could feel them on our faces, blowing gently and
fitfully. Before going to bed on the night of the 25th, Jack read to
us his latest Story, "the Chinago," the scene of which was laid at
Papeete. The night before we had heard "The Seed of McCoy."
The small crew of the _Snark_ was now getting to feel more at home
on water than on land. We were getting into the thickest of the
South Sea islands; every mile we moved toward the west was bringing
us among more primitive people.
The wind was so light that we moved along very slowly. The sea was
almost as smooth as a mill-pond, and we progressed with all sail set
wing-and-wing. There was very little work to do on board except to
keep watch. We would lounge around on deck and eat fruit or play
cards. Mrs. London had brought with her a small instrument from the
Hawaiian Islands, a _ukelele_. This instrument is seldom seen
outside the Hawaiian Islands, for despite its sweet tones, no other
nation has taken up its use.
Mrs. London would play and sing in the evenings, while Tehei and
Wada and Nakata would do their native dances. Sometimes Jack would
read aloud his day's work. And all the time we were sliding west
thicker into the heart of the South Pacific. We enjoyed this part of
the cruise very much indeed. Jack had tops and skipping ropes
aboard the _Snark_. The ropes gave us much needed exercise; and we
all took boyish pleasure in spinning the tops. I have seen Jack
London squat down and spin his tops by the hour, thoroughly absorbed
in the fun. He said that this, like his cigarettes, soothed his
nerves.
We were thirteen days from Bora Bora when we sighted the Manua
Islands, with the largest island in the group straight ahead. The
Manua Islands really belong to the Samoan Group, and are usually
charted as such; but the three small islands, about one mile apart,
are nearly one hundred miles from the Samoan group proper. The
natives are the same class of people, and they speak the same
language.
When Germany and England and America decided to stop quarrelling
over their property in the South Seas, representatives of the three
countries met at Apia, Samoa, and England agreed to take over some
western islands, and quit the Samoan group entirely. So the group
was divided between Germany and the United States. Germany kept the
two large islands of Upolu and Savaii, while America took the large
island of Tutuila and the small Manua Islands.
The natives objected to these powers coming here and taking
possession of them; and for many years there was continual warfare
in the German section. The United States had no trouble in the
island of Tutuila, but in the Manua group, the old king at first
refused to acknowledge their sovereignty. Old King Tui-Manua made a
trip to the United States, and after that he gave up the fight, for
he saw the hopelessness of his position; his one thousand subjects
in the Manua Islands could be wiped off the face of the earth in a
single day. Old Tui-Manua was wise enough to submit; and he now
governs the islands with nearly as much authority as he had before.
The United States did not want the islands for the sake of ruling
them, but they wanted a coaling-station at Tutuila.
We sighted the largest island, known as "Au," early on the morning
of the thirteenth day from Bora Bora. As the wind was still very
light, I set the engines to work, and by noon we were under the lee
of the island, gliding along about one mile from the shore. A person
who has never been in the South Seas cannot appreciate the pleasure
of gliding along a tropical bay, just close enough to see the small
grass villages and the dense jungles behind; the seas breaking over
the coral reefs ahead, and the pure blue waters underneath; the
tropical birds flying overhead, and canoes paddling along the
shores. And with the exception of the rumbling of the sea over the
reefs and the chattering of the birds, everything is still and
peaceful.
Such were the conditions as the _Snark_ moved along looking for an
anchorage, but the coast seemed straight, and unindented by a bay
suitable for anchoring; and the reef running outside and all along
the coast kept us from getting very close to land. Finally, we
slowed down until we were scarcely moving. We were undecided what
to do; but suddenly a shout went up from the shore, and a big
whale-boat was pushed down the beach, and as it touched the water, a
score of natives jumped in. After fifteen minutes spent in getting
across the reef, they headed for the _Snark_.
I have often thought what a fine cinematograph-picture that boat
would have made, as it was tossed right and left; first its bow
would seem to be pointing toward the sky, then down it would come
while the stern went up. When the boat came alongside the _Snark_
the natives were nearly exhausted from their hard work. They would
not come aboard for a long time, but sat holding on to a stern-rope,
trying to make out who we were. Tehei could not speak their
language, and they could speak no English. We tried to tell them
that we were looking for an anchorage, but it was not until Jack
took several of them forward and pointed to the anchor that they
understood. Then with a whoop they made fast a line from our bow to
the stern of their boat, and with every one of the natives yelling
at the top of his voice, we were towed into anchor close to the
reef. The men, not knowing of the engine, felt that the only way for
us to get in to shore was for them to tow us. We stowed everything,
and after we had come to anchor we were surrounded by canoes of the
oddest shapes. Jack and Mrs. London climbed into the big boat with
the natives, and soon were ashore, but the rest of the crew remained
on board to get things shipshape after the two weeks at sea. I got
my engines in trim; then I bribed a native with a sack of Bull
Durham tobacco to take me ashore in his one-man canoe. I say
"one-man canoe," for their canoes are made to carry from one to a
dozen men, and they are not safe with a single man more than they
are built to carry. We got safely across the reef, when a wave broke
over the boat, and we sank--and it was up to me to swim ashore while
a hundred natives, standing on the beach, cheered; and it was their
willing hands that drew me from the water. It was a rather
embarrassing introduction to the natives of the Manua Islands; but I
was such a funny figure when I surveyed myself that I had to laugh,
too.
The natives crowded around me and laughed heartily at my condition,
and one took me by the arm and led me to a large house in the centre
of the grass village. The natives followed until they were a dozen
feet from the house, when they stopped. Jack and Mrs. London,
hearing the noise, came out of the house, followed by a tall,
stately looking man, dressed in a white coat and _sulu_. There could
be no mistaking this man: he was the king. The natives all bowed and
salaamed, while I stood between the natives and the king, uncertain
what to do. My clothes were a sight, drenched with salt-water. After
a glance at me, the king and the Londons broke out laughing; then I
had to laugh again; and then all the natives started laughing, and
one, separating himself from the throng, stepped up and told the
king about my adventure. I could not understand him, but I knew by
his gestures that he was talking about me. Then the king motioned
for me to step up on the porch, and we shook hands. Turning, he
called for the queen to come out. She was an intelligent, fine
looking woman, with excellent manners. After shaking hands, she
called for the servant, and ordered that their native drink be
brought. A pretty little girl came with _kava_ in cocoanut shells;
and after a toast by the king, we drank it down. It had a queer,
bitter taste, but I managed to swallow it. I afterward found that I
could not have offended the king worse than by not drinking the
_kava_ at one gulp. I was lucky in doing it just right. Jack and
Mrs. London sat down on the porch, and left me with the king and
queen. Now, I was not used to being entertained by royalty, so I did
not know how to act. But I was relieved of a painful situation by
all the natives rushing off to the beach, whither the king and queen
followed them. The Londons and I went likewise; and we saw a small
schooner drop anchor close to the _Snark_. She carried an English
flag, which dipped in response to a salute from the _Snark_. Then
they lowered a boat, and a white man was rowed ashore by a dozen
native sailors. When the man landed, he shook hands with the king
and queen, and spoke to them in their native language; after which
he turned to us and spoke in English. He was the captain of the
schooner and also the owner. Though he did not tell us his story, we
afterward found it out.
[Illustration: HOUSES ON OUTRIGGER CANOES--SOLOMON ISLANDS]
Captain Young had come to the Manua Islands when a young man, had
opened a trading station, and married a sister of the king. They had
one daughter, who grew up to be the belle of the islands. Young had
all the people in her favour; not that they were dissatisfied with
Tui-Manua, but they were one and all fascinated by the beautiful
girl. Tui-Manua got hold of a rumour that he was to be dethroned,
and Captain Young's daughter was to be instated in his place; so he
forced Young and his wife to leave the island. They lived on one of
the other islands for nearly a year, when the girl took sick; and
when she found she was going to die, she asked leave to die on her
native soil. Tui-Manua, hearing of the case, allowed Captain Young
and his family to return. The girl died, and Young erected a big
monument over her grave. Now, while the king and the captain seem to
be friends, they are constantly in secret fear of each other.
Tui-Manua invited us three from the _Snark_ and Captain Young to
stay for supper. We had new dishes that I was unfamiliar with, and
we drank _kava_, while we were waited on by the king's servants; and
afterward, when it got dark, the king ordered a big fire built in
the centre of the village, and native men and women danced and sang
for our entertainment, the while we sat with the king on mats thrown
on the ground.
Next day, I went around the village making photographs, and going
in and out of the natives' grass huts. In one place I found a
tattooer working on a boy; and he asked to tattoo me, but to his
great disappointment, I refused.
With the trader as interpreter, Jack made the king understand that
we wanted to buy curios. The king sent runners to collect the entire
village, whom he told to be on hand next day with things they wanted
to sell. And next day Jack and Mrs. London and I stood in the centre
of several hundred natives, buying mats and war clubs and tapa
cloth; and I was lucky enough to secure a big, bushy grass fan, with
which a native had been busy keeping the flies off the king. It has
the king's name on it, and it is now reposing in the midst of the
other things I brought home with me from the South Seas.
We lay anchored off the island of Au several days, while, in company
with the king and queen, we were shown over the island by Captain
Young. The day we prepared to leave, the king and queen gave us
presents--one of the most valuable of these an extra fine piece of
tapa cloth, which I still retain.
The day we left Au, the king and queen came off to the _Snark_ and
had dinner with us. Wada did gloriously, cooking for royalty, and
Nakata was more polite than ever; and as we heaved anchor that
afternoon, the boat bearing the king and queen circled the _Snark_
three times, its occupants singing "Tofa-Mai-Feleni," the native
song of farewell.
Tui-Manua is the descendant of a long line of the most powerful
South Sea Island kings. His father's authority stretched for
thousands of miles around, and whatever he said took precedence over
anything said by any of the lesser kings within this boundary. So it
is rather humiliating to the present king to have to bow down to
another power stronger than he. He is afflicted by a peculiar
disease that is wasting his life away; and ere long we will hear of
his death. The last of the true royalty of the South Seas will have
passed from earth. I have met members of many of the South Sea royal
families since then, but none deserved the name of king so well as
did Tui-Manua.