port bow. After anchoring, preparations were made to give the boys
shore liberty; as we were to remain two days in this port, while the
natives coaled the ship, it was decided to let one-half of the
regiment go ashore each day.
“Japs” with sampans laden with curios and fruit surrounded the ship;
these were exchanged for money by the soldiers, and hauled aboard by
means of a rope and bucket.
The quarantine inspection in Japan is very rigid, which no doubt
accounts for the excellent health of the race and the sanitary
condition of the country.
As the call, “Lay aft, all the liberty party,” was piped by the
boatswain, soldiers riled down the gangway and boarded launches, tugs,
and sampans, and were at once conveyed to the “Land of the Rising
Sun,” tea-houses, and chrysanthemums.
On reaching the wharf hundreds of Japanese jinrickshaw-men were in
line, waiting to haul the Americans to any part of the city. Every
“rickshaw” on the beach was immediately engaged, and away we went
through the streets of Nagasaki, visiting bazaars, theatres, temples,
pagodas, museums, and tea-houses. An unfortunate thing happened to a
friend of mine while being hauled along the “Bund.” There were perhaps
forty “rickshaws” in line, each contesting for the lead, when on
turning a curve the “rickshaw” in front of mine broke down,
precipitating my friend into the dust. My man, being unable to stop,
ran over him, the wheel badly lacerating the whole side of his face.
Both “Japs” ran away to escape punishment, the fellow in the rear ran
into me, and there was a general spill along the whole line. It is
needless to say that walking was good for several hours after this
affair.
As our shore leave expired at 8 A.M., every fellow was getting the
best out of the hours that were speeding by, as he knew there would be
many monotonous days to spend on the Pacific Ocean before reaching
Honolulu.
In tea-houses on the outskirts of the city, groups of soldiers sat and
watched the geisha-girls do the “serpentine” to the music of
“samisens,” their graceful forms presenting a novel spectacle, draped
in flowing silk kimonos, as seen through a veil of cigarette smoke.
Next morning when the roll was called aboard the transport, a large
percentage of the “liberty-party” was absent, and it became necessary
to send out a patrol to round up the soldiers. As a result of this
celebration, there were innumerable court-martials held _en route_ to
the Hawaiian Islands, with fines ranging from five to twenty-five
dollars.
Our voyage across the Pacific was uneventful. The weather was
extremely calm, the horizon appearing as a circular brink of a
tremendous cataract, over which the surging billows thundered in
pensive solitude. An occasional albatross was sighted winging its
flight through the aerial regions. Under the leeward shrouds, groups
of soldiers congregated, spinning yarns or playing at cards, while
others on the windward side inhaled the health-giving ozone of the
salt-sea breeze. A Japanese mail-steamer, and several merchant marines
were sighted from our course, _en route_ to points in Australia and
the Orient.
Several hours before our arrival in Honolulu, it was whispered about
the deck that our shore privileges were to be restricted, and, sure
enough, the disappointment was realized, due, it was said, to those
who had overstayed their privileges in Japan. To be kept a prisoner in
Mariveles was bad enough, but to be prevented from mingling with the
throng in the “Garden of the Gods,” the “Paradise of the Pacific,”
Honolulu, was more than the boys could stand. As we entered the
harbor, dotted here and there with bell-buoys, fishing-smacks, yachts,
and vessels of the merchant marine, we saw the new naval station off
our port side, and the camp of the United States marines extending to
the coral reefs to starboard. From the spar deck we could gaze on the
beautiful city of Honolulu, with its white stone buildings bathed in
tropical luxuriance, and the contour of its mountainous inland
towering to the clouds. It was with a feeling of relief, as the vessel
moored to the wharf, that a chance could be taken on getting ashore.
The wharf was studded with people, mostly tourists and native venders,
though a large concourse of officers’ families had come to greet their
relatives. As the gangway was lowered, the band struck up an inspiring
air, and only those who have seen an American transport loaded with
soldiers returning home from that far-off jungle land, the Philippines
and Sulu, can form any conception of the passionate display of
enthusiasm manifested on these occasions.
Vendors of beautiful wreaths of flowers, curios, and succulent fruit
greet the visitor on all sides. These flower wreaths are worn around
the band of the hat and around the neck; they are a traditional
necessity, without which you are staged, in this city of the Pacific,
in a class by yourself.
Pineapples, pineapples, pineapples, everywhere you look; the most
delicious pineapples in the world come from Hawaii, the bulk of the
exportation to the United States being marketed along the Pacific
slope.
The shore privileges of the battalion being restricted, we had to be
content with taking observations from the taffrail. I had been to
Honolulu several times while in the navy, and had stopped here _en
route_ to the islands with the Twenty-ninth Infantry, so that I
naturally felt disappointed at my inability to go ashore,――so much, in
fact, that I decided to eradicate the feeling at the risk of a
court-martial.
Having anticipated making a social call, besides expecting mail
addressed to the Alexander Young Hotel, I was determined on getting
ashore, if it necessitated going down over the anchor-chains, as we
did in the navy when shore leave was not forthcoming, which, however,
would not be necessary in this case, as our ship was moored to the
dock.
On the strength of being a non-commissioned officer, I thought that
perhaps a diplomatic hand played judiciously might have some weight
with the colonel.
Investing myself in a fresh-laundried suit of war-clothes, with
carefully wound puttees, I approached without dismay headquarters, and
with the determination, if rebuffed, to await complacently the first
opportunity for smuggling myself ashore, when presently I heard my
name being called out near the gangway. Hastening in this direction, I
found a Hawaiian messenger with a note for me. Hastily tearing open
the envelope, the missive read as follows: “My dear Mr. A――――, We are
friends of your cousin May; call up 091 Aloho Lane immediately.” Had I
received my mail from Young’s Hotel, I would have understood the
message thoroughly; but, alas! it was Greek,――not too Greek, however.
Detaining the messenger, I sought the advice of the regimental
sergeant major, who informed me that it would be absolutely futile to
apply for shore leave, as a number of applications had been
disapproved. Feeling chagrined over my inability to comply with the
request in the message, I resorted, after considerable thought, to the
miserable subterfuge of denying my presence on board. Seeking the
assistance of Sergeant Allen, I dictated the following: “This message
was opened inadvertently; Mr. A――――has been detained in Japan; will be
through on a liner next month. (Signed) ALLEN.”
The boy departed (after I had tipped him on keeping his counsel),
leaving me meditating on how I was to get ashore.
My experience in the navy was helping me wonderfully, when something
occurred demanding immediate action, an unforeseen exigency in the
shape of another messenger. This time it was the first mate of the
transport _Thomas_, Mr. Worth, who, to add to my chain of humiliating
circumstances, informed me that three ladies were awaiting me on the
promenade deck, two of them Hawaiians, the third an American. They had
missed the messenger (thanks for his carelessness!). “For heaven’s
sake!” I exclaimed; “I am not on board, mate! I am in Japan.” “Oh,
they are wise; they have been talking to an officer, and he has sent
an orderly to find you; so come on up; they look good to me and they
are anxious to see you.” (Oh, if I only had that messenger, what I’d
do to him!) “Tell them I will be there in a moment,” I exclaimed, as I
went below for some letters a member of the crew had consented to
mail.
In a few moments I had scaled the ladder to the promenade deck, where
I met the jolliest trio of femininity it has been my pleasure to
commune with. They told me what great friends they were of my cousin,
of her writing them of my departure from the Philippines, of the
explanatory letter awaiting me at Young’s Hotel, and all about the big
touring-car awaiting us at the pier, et cetera. Two of these ladies
were perfect types of Hawaiian beauty, Vassar graduates, and members
of the obsolete nobility, the other a typical American girl, a
tourist, and daughter of a retired naval officer.
I was aware that my cousin had spent the previous winter in Honolulu,
and understood, from the message, that she had written her friends of
my home-coming _via_ the Hawaiian Islands on the transport _Thomas_,
so that an apology for my failure to comply with the request in the
message could hardly be avoided. So it became imperative that I
disclose the facts in connection with the deprivation of our shore
leave,――how we overstayed our liberty in Japan, and the denial of my
presence on board the transport. Being jolly good fellows, these
ladies considered this predicament a great joke, as they had visited
Japan, and I presume knew the irresistible fascinations of the
“Flowery Kingdom.” But that was neither here nor there: they had come
on board to take me ashore, and ashore I must go.
The people in question are warm friends of a particular friend of
mine, a globe-trotter (address, United States of America) whose
meteoric flights cover both hemispheres, and who arranges the
destinations of her itinerary in accordance with climatic conditions;
when not basking in the sunshine along the Riviera or under the
cocoa-palms of the tropics, she is shooting the rapids of the St.
Lawrence River or ascending the precipitous slopes of Mt. Washington.
This lady of rare accomplishments and precious jewels, whose benignity
of aspect is subordinate only to her delicate finesse, is related
paradoxically to the author, through a long chain of ancestry dating
back to the tenants of Paradise; we are therefore by mutual consent
known as cousins.
Through the courtesy of Mr. Worth, the privilege of his cabin was
extended; here the party was served with ice-cold “Three Star”
mineral-water, and here my departure from the ship was planned with
great success.
After escorting the ladies to the gang-plank, promising to write, and
bidding them a farewell, I repaired to my quarters, invested myself in
a civilian suit of white duck, and was lowered over the side of the
vessel into a steam-launch, which conveyed me to a point on the beach
where, leaving the launch, I joined the trio in a large limousine of
patrician elegance, for a spin over the famous Pali Drive. “That is
going some,” I remarked, as the machine sped on. “Yes, and then some,”
exclaimed the American girl. “Well, all is fair in love and war,”
ejaculated a dashing Hawaiian. “Well, well sprinkle this event with
romance,” added the other, laughingly. “‘Love and war’ sounds good. If
I am reported, I will quote that as my defence,” I replied. “Aloho
mie,” in an Hawaiian undertone, brings forth a peal of laughter as the
party catch the sense.
Our ride included the ever-beautiful Pali Drive, a magnificent
boulevard shaded by the bowery maze of the banyan-tree, a run to
Diamond Head Beach, a spin along Fort Street, the business section,
and the “King’s Highway.” After refreshments on the roof-garden of the
Alexander Young Hotel, where I received my mail, we drove to 091 Aloho
Lane, the home of these charming people; here, surrounded by tropical
luxuriance, wide porticoes, hammocks, and reclining wicker chairs, we
remained for the afternoon. During “tiffin” a victorolo rendered
elegant operatic selections, while suspended over the dining-table a
punka inspired a gentle breeze.
In the evening about sundown the party, having increased, journeyed to
Waikiki Beach, the popular bathing resort. Here, at the Moana Hotel,
we joined in a genuine native “luau,” heard “Sunny Chunna” sing her
famous compositions, and later joined in the merry whirl to the music
of the Hawaiian Band. Near this famous winter resort we journeyed into
a gayety hall, where a string of Hawaiian beauties, festooned in
garlands of flowers, performed the “Hulu Hulu” dance, rivalling in
vivaciousness the whirlwind contortions of our valiant Ruth St. Denis.
After a midnight lunch at the Hotel Moana, the party returned to the
city. A motor-boat conveyed me to the transport, which, fortunately,
was boarded without difficulty.
Next morning on board the transport I was the recipient of a basket of
delicious pineapples, and, as a memento of the enjoyable day, a
scarf-pin bearing the coat-of-arms of the Hawaiian Islands.
Honolulu, on the Island of Oahu, is the most beautiful section of the
earth I have visited; the climate varies little, and it can be more
properly termed a temperate clime than tropical, although tropical
vegetation is indigenous. Kilauea, on the eastern slope of Mauna Loa
mountain, is the loftiest and most active volcano in the world, its
crater being nine miles in circumference. Mauna Loa has an altitude of
nearly fourteen thousand feet and is covered with perpetual snow.
A few hours before the departure of the transport for “Frisco,” “Jack”
London, the writer, arrived in the harbor on the _Snark_, a
twenty-four foot schooner, in which he was making a tour of the globe.
As the ship cast loose from the pier, it was with a feeling of regret
that I had to leave this delightful country and such amiable people.
Wafting an Aloho to my friends and their country, we departed for the
American coast, passing _en route_, the second day out, an American
fleet of war-vessels. As the transport approached the city of the
“Golden Gate” in the darkness of the night, myriads of lights
glittered along the distant shore.
Steaming through the channel, we entered the bay in the break of the
early morning. Off the starboard side stood the grand old landmark the
Cliff House, overlooking the bay and city of San Francisco; on the
port side, Fort McDowell and the old Island prison, San Quentin. After
docking at the pier, relatives and friends of the soldiers were
permitted on board, shore leave was granted, and the boys roamed at
will through the city that had recently risen from a mass of ruins,
caused by the telluric flames that followed the dreadful earthquake of
1906.
Three days were pleasantly spent in “Frisco” ere the regiment departed
for the Atlantic coast in three sections, over the Santa Fé Railroad,
the First and Second battalions for Forts Porter and Niagara, N. Y.,
the Third battalion, non-commissioned staff, and band for Governor’s
Island, N. Y. Being a soldier of the Third battalion, the balance of
my enlistment was spent at this post in the capacity of record clerk
at headquarters of the Twenty-ninth Infantry.
Governor’s Island is a small island situated at the junction of the
East River and New York Bay. It is connected with Battery Park, near
South Ferry, by a government ferry-boat, which makes a trip between
the island and South Ferry every half-hour. The island was first
settled by the Dutch in 1614. When the English took New York in 1684,
they built Ft. Columbus, the present site of Ft. Jay. Castle William,
facing the harbor, was completed in 1810. It is used at present as a
military prison.
Besides the palatial residence of the commanding general of the
Department of the East, there are various buildings in which the
business of this department is transacted; also homes of the officers,
barracks of the soldiers, chapel, library, post exchange,
quartermaster’s supply depot, the officers’ club, and a museum
containing relics of wars dating back to the revolution. Here may be
seen in a large glass repository, in a state of preservation, the
noble steed fully equipped as it appeared when carrying General
Sheridan through the valley of the Shenandoah.
Corbin Hall, a pretentious building adjoining the old chapel and
facing the parade-ground, is the site of the officers’ club, and
contains a sumptuous ball-room, which is frequently the scene of
gorgeous military display. Through the courtesy of the Officers’ Club,
the use of this magnificent ball-room was tendered the Fort Jay Social
Club every Thursday evening, when mirth and good-fellowship reigned.
During my incumbency in office as secretary of this club, I found it
necessary to pass unfavorably on scores of written applications for
invitations to these affairs, due solely to the fact that, each member
of the club being allowed four invitations, it was impossible to
accommodate more than the prescribed quota. I mention this fact to
show the popularity of these dances, and in conjunction as a general
apology to those to whom invitations were not forthcoming.
These weekly dances had the true brass-button effect, strictly
military. The Twenty-ninth Infantry band furnished the music, the
grand-march being invariably led by Chaplain Smith of Governor’s
Island, accompanied by a budding debutante, blithe and fair; these
were followed by the gay and graceful belles of Gotham, each on the
arm of a stalwart soldier appearing at his best. During the
intermission refreshments were served in the communicating apartments.
The use of the ferry was cordially extended to the New York patrons of
the dance, who could step off the boat almost into the subway, where
an express could be had for all points in New York, Brooklyn, and
Jersey City.
The close proximity of Governor’s Island to the city bearing the
proverbial appellation “Gotham” affords excellent opportunity to the
soldiers for seeing the sights of a great metropolis. Every evening
soldiers in civilian attire leave the island, and on entering the
subway are soon lost sight of in this beehive of humanity. There are
few items in the calendar of joy which the soldier overlooks, for his
duty has been performed faithfully and he now seeks pleasure with
unrestrained ardor.
If perchance, at the close of a drama or burletta, you wander through
the “tenderloin” and casually stroll into “Maxim’s,” “Murray’s,” or
“Martin’s,” you are apt to see him _tête à tête_ with his sweetheart,
dining table-d’hôte; or hail a “taxi” and spin over to the Café
Boulevard, across to “Terrace Garden,” up to the “Haymarket,” down to
“Little Hungary,” or a variety of other amusement halls, and there you
will find him with bells on, in close communion with some favorite
chorus satellite, of perhaps the “Folies Bergere,” whose grace along
the “Rialto” brooks no competition, whose gowns and ostrich-plumes are
the envy of Parisian salons and the pride of “Redfern’s” modistes, and
whose long suite is the importance she attaches to her connoisseurship
of the best things in life. Yes, there he is attracted like the moth
to the flame.
During the summer evenings it is a most inspiring sight to witness the
lowering of the colors, drooping slowly with the trumpet’s notes of
retreat, as the regiment stands at parade-rest; the loud boom of the
sundown gun, followed by the band’s rendition of the Star-Spangled
Banner, and the regiment as it passes in review.
My enlistment having expired at Governor’s Island, March 2, 1910, I
was discharged from the army of the United States.
THE END.
Transcriber’s Note:
Words and phrases in italics are surrounded by underscores, _like
this_. This book was written in a period when many words had not become
standardized in their spelling. Words may have multiple spelling
variations or inconsistent hyphenation in the text. Dialect, obsolete
words and misspellings were left unchanged.