Fishing Junks.—New Companions.—Stove Boat, yet good Luck.—Heavy
Gales.—Bashee Islands.—Loo Choos.—The “Reaper” again.—Whaling Ship
“Jireh Perry.”—Ship “Alabama.”—“Gamming.”—Ship “Roscoe.”—A Cure
for “Bruisers.”—Ship “E. L. B. Jenney.”—Bark “Empress.”—Ormsby’s
Peak.—Bonin Islands.—Turtles.—Peel’s Island.—A narrow Escape.—
Bonin Island Inhabitants.—Japan Expedition.—An old Shipmate.—
Another Runaway.—Fourth of July Celebration.—Ship “Rambler.”—Ship
“Hope.”—Parting with an old Friend.—Fishing.—The last Lowering.—
Bound for the Sandwich Islands.—Maui and Molokai.—Lahaina.—Anchor
down.—Description of Lahaina.—King’s Palace.—Lahainaluna.—Rules
and Regulations.—Sports and Pastimes.—Letters from Home.—
Productions of Maui.—Captain M‘Culloch.—Sad News.—Death of
Stoddard.—Voracity of the Shark.—Kanaka Church.—Small-pox.
Thursday morning, March 3d, saw us clear of the land, with no wind,
and enveloped in a thick fog. At noon the fog commenced rising, and
as it continued slowly, exposed to our view a swarm of fishing junks.
This did not create a very pleasant feeling in our midst, as we well
knew that many of the so-called fishing junks were only pirates in
disguise. One of them sent a boat with some fish, which we purchased,
and then sent him off, as we did not like his appearance. It was
still calm, and all hands were “whistling for a breeze,” which soon
came, and before evening we were bowling it off at the rate of nine
knots.
We had forgotten to mention that while in port we shipped two men,
an officer and a boat-steerer. The officer, Mr. M., was a _windy_,
braggadocio fellow, not over-stocked with common sense, whom all
hands learned soon to hate and despise. The other, Davy, the
boat-steerer, was a Frenchman, a very quiet, easy fellow, not at all
inclined to kill himself with hard work.
We had been but a few days from port, and while yet in the China Sea,
when the glad cry was heard, “T-h-e-r-e she b-l-o-w-s.” As this was
our _last cruise_, it can be easily imagined how “eager for the fray”
we were. Down went the boats, the men following, feeling decidedly
_fishy_. The larboard and starboard boats soon fastened, and killed
their whales with but little trouble; but not so with the bow boat.
Our new officer must needs “show off” his skill, and, after fastening
to his whale, drove the boat completely on to him, when he turned,
and commenced very coolly chewing the boat to pieces. This was very
unfortunate, as the waist boat, which was nearly up to a fourth
whale, was necessarily obliged to go to the relief of the stove boat.
The wounded whale fortunately received the harpoon in a vital part,
and soon “turned up,” so that we got three whales, which was not a
bad commencement for the cruise.
We now experienced very heavy gales of wind—what seamen call the
“tail end” of a typhoon. It came upon us at first unawares, and we
were near losing all our sails and spars, which would have rendered
us a complete wreck. For an hour or two the wind would blow with
_tremendous_ force—it appeared that every thing must give way; and
then a calm of an hour or two would occur, the sea now rolling and
pitching in great fury. This weather lasted for two or three days;
and when pleasant weather again broke upon us, never was it more
welcome. We now sighted the northern islands of the Bashee group, and
it was with difficulty that we kept clear of them.
On Thursday, March 24th, we sighted the southernmost island of the
Loo Choo group, belonging to the Japan government. These islands
possessed a peculiar interest to us at this time, as Commodore Perry
was then on his celebrated expedition to Japan, and it was expected
he would visit the Loo Choos about this time.
Twice during our voyage had death visited us, and taken from us
officers and shipmates. Again he came, and on this occasion visited
the forecastle, taking with him one of our Roratongo natives. He
died on Monday, April 12th, of consumption. When he left his native
island he was troubled with a severe cough, which grew worse rather
than better, until his condition was one past all hope. While in
Hong Kong he was placed in the hospital, and every thing that
medical skill could do to effect a cure was resorted to, but all
in vain. The captain endeavored to persuade him to remain there,
promising to leave him so situated that he would be as comfortable as
possible while he lived; but this he would not consent to. He said
he did not wish to remain there and die among strangers, but would
rather be with those with whom he had lately lived—those who were
his acquaintances, and among his native friends. Every thing that
could be done by captain, officers, and crew to make his last days
comfortable and happy, was done. But the time drew near when he was
to depart. Death already stood at his bedside, awaiting the summons
to convey him over the dark river. Calling his Kanaka friends about
him, whose tears flowed fast and full, he gave them sundry messages
to his parents, brothers, and sisters; told them to say to all he
died a Christian, firm in the faith of a redeeming Savior; and that,
although his body might be buried in the depths of the dark blue sea,
yet his soul would ascend to that glorious home above, which his
Savior had “prepared for all those who love him.” He exhorted us all,
in as strong a voice as his weak nature would permit, to prepare for
death, for death would as surely come to us as to him. Requesting his
native friends to sing, in their language, his favorite “missionary
hymn,” as he termed it, “Oh! that will be joyful, joyful, joyful,”
etc., he quietly dropped asleep in death.
What a lesson was here taught us nominal Christians by this poor
native! An inhabitant of an island but a few years since barbarous,
dying strong in the faith of a blessed immortality beyond the grave.
If all the missionaries who have left their homes to labor for the
spread of the Gospel among the heathen had accomplished no more,
through Christ, than the salvation of this one native, yet were they
well repaid. “What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world
and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his
soul?”
At four P.M. all sail was taken in, the ensign half-mast, and again
were all hands called to “witness burial service.” After the usual
ceremonies, which were very affecting, the plank was raised, and the
body committed to the deep.
Reader, when you die, it will be, we trust, in the Sabbath calm
of your hushed chamber; but the poor sailor dies at sea, between
the narrow decks of his rolling home. The last accents that reach
your ear will be those of love and affection, such as alone flow
from a mother’s heart and a sister dear; the last sounds that reach
the dying sailor’s ear are the hoarse murmur of that wave which
seems impatient to grasp its victim. You will be buried beneath the
green tree, where love and grief may go to strew their flowers and
cherish your virtues; but the poor sailor is hearsed in the dark
depths of the ocean, there to drift about in its under-currents
till the great judgment day. Alas! for the poor sailor, often the
child of misfortune, impulse, and error, his brief life fraught with
privations, hardship, and peril, his grave, at last, the foaming
deep! Though man pity him not, may God, in his great mercy, remember
his weaknesses and trials, and save him through his Son!
From this time until about the 15th of April we were very successful,
obtaining, in three weeks’ time, about three hundred barrels of
oil. This, with the whales we captured in the China Sea, increased
our store nearly four hundred barrels since leaving Hong Kong. As a
matter of course, all hands, from captain to cook, were in the best
possible humor. This was our last cruise, and “every whale counted.”
We were now steering for the Bonin Islands, to procure turtle, sweet
potatoes, watermelons, etc.
Saturday, April 30th, brought to view a sail on our weather beam, the
clipper whaler “Jireh Perry,” of New Bedford, Captain Lawrence. This
man was a perfect tyrant on board ship, and no crew had ever sailed
with him from home and returned. It was stated, and pretty generally
believed, that he had killed no less than three men since he had
become master of a ship; yet, because he always was fortunate enough
to obtain large quantities of oil, and mean enough to treat his crew
so that they would all desert at the last port touched at before
leaving for home rather than go home in the ship, thereby leaving
_all_ the profits to the owners, he could obtain a ship of whom he
liked.
A few days later we spoke the “Alabama,” Captain Coggeshall, who
reported that the day before Captain L., of the “Jireh Perry,” had
shot his cook for some trifling cause.
On Saturday, May 21st, we “gammed” with our old friends of the
“Mohawk.” Probably the reader is unacquainted with the meaning of
the term “gam,” which is peculiar to whalemen alone. It is simply
_visiting_ from one ship to another. When two ships meet, one captain
invites the other to come on board and pass the day. On his arrival
with a boat’s crew, the chief mate of the vessel that has given
the invitation returns with a boat’s crew from his own ship to the
stranger, thus leaving the two captains on one ship, and the two
mates on the other, and exchanging boat’s crews. The first salute
generally is, “How are you, shipmate? how long are you out? how
much oil have you got? what part of the States are you from?” But a
short time elapses before all hands are acquainted; the visitors are
invited into the forecastle, where some time is spent in spinning
yarns. After a short general conversation, the song is called for,
and some one, generally _the_ singer of the ship, leads off, singing
some love-ditty, pirate, or sailor song, all hands joining in the
chorus, and making the welkin ring. The song goes round, and he who
can not sing must spin a yarn; all must contribute to the general
amusement. The day passes pleasantly away, all labor being suspended
except the look-out for whales and sailing the ship. These “gams”
are to the sailor moments of recreation, and serve to create general
satisfaction among all hands. During these “gams” whales are often
raised, and the oil secured on the occasion is equally divided
between the two ships, “be the same more or less.”
A queer genius was Captain Hayden, of the “Roscoe.” Meeting him about
the 1st of June, Captain Ewer invited him on board. On crossing
the “Roscoe’s” stern, we observed that Captain H. had his right
arm in a sling. Fears were expressed that he had injured himself
in some manner. His head also was bound up in a handkerchief.
Coming alongside, the man-rope was swung to him, and he came up the
ship’s side with one hand, keeping the other in the sling. After
congratulations had been exchanged, Captain E. anxiously inquired
what was the matter with his arm, “hoping he had not injured it
severely, or broken any bones.” Captain H. replied, his countenance
as grave as a judge, that “he had been at work very hard during the
day, and his arm being somewhat tired, he was merely resting it!”
Captain E. replied that he might have suspected some trick of that
kind, and asked him “what was the matter with his head; if that had
been hard at work also?” He pulled off the handkerchief which bound
it, and exposed a completely bald head; making the remark that “he
had not seen a whale for two months, and he had shaved his head, and
should keep it so, until he took one hundred barrels of oil.” After
passing a very pleasant day and evening they departed. We now shaped
our course for the Bonin Islands.
It is sometimes the case that disputes arise among the foremast
hands, and, instead of settling the matter in an amicable manner,
resort is often had to blows. An instance of this kind occurring
about this time, and reaching the captain’s ears, the disputants were
called aft, and each were furnished with a rope, and ordered to flog
one another until he told them to stop. This novel mode of settling
the affair they did not relish, yet obey they must, and at it they
went. After belaboring each other to their hearts’ content, they were
ordered to cease, and went forward rather ashamed of themselves.
We saw the “E. L. B. Jenny,” of Fairhaven, Captain Marsh, on Friday,
June 10th. They had taken, a few days previous, a whale which “stowed
down” upward of one hundred and thirty barrels. Such whales are very
“few and far between.”
On Wednesday, June 15th, we raised a strange sail to leeward. Running
down to her, we found it to be the bark “Empress,” a Peruvian
merchantman, from Cumsingmoon, China, to Callao, with four hundred
Chinese coolies on board, bound to the mines in Peru. This system of
deception is equaled only by the African slave-trade. The Chinese
(who are generally of the lower classes) are allured, by flattering
inducements, to go to California, or some other equally rich country,
where, they are told, they will become rich in a few years, and can
return to their own country. As soon as they get them on shipboard, a
guard is stationed over them, with orders to shoot down the first one
that shows any signs of resistance. Being kept such close prisoners,
and on the coarsest food, they are naturally joyous at the sight
of land, and leave the vessel with glad hearts, only to enter the
slavery of the Peruvian mines. This species of slave-trade is, like
the African slave-trade in our own land, forbidden by the laws of the
country, but secretly connived and winked at.
“Ormsby’s Peak,” of which we give a sketch taken on shipboard, we saw
on Saturday, June 18th. It rises about two hundred feet above the
level of the ocean, and has no shallow shores around it. Soundings
can not be obtained close to the rock. It is one of nature’s great
curiosities.
On Thursday, June 23d, we first raised the Bonin Islands, consisting
of Perry’s Group, Peel’s and Bailey’s Islands. We here caught a
green turtle, who was asleep upon the water. We soon had him in our
coppers, making turtle-soup for all hands.
The morning of Monday, June 27th, saw us close in to Peel’s Island.
This island presents a fine appearance from the sea, the land being
moderately high, and thickly covered with verdure. On the west side
is a fine harbor with good anchorage, and very convenient for ships
wishing to water. About 9 A.M. the wind died away, leaving it a dead,
dull calm, and the current slowly drifted us toward the northern
point of the island. As we neared the land destruction appeared
almost inevitable, and we feared that the voyage of the “Emily
Morgan” was about being brought to a sudden termination, leaving her
bones to bleach upon the rocks. But an overruling Providence held
all in His hands, and, when within a stone’s throw of the shore, we
struck a westerly current, which swept us clear of the point.
[Illustration: ORMSBY’S PEAK.]
It still continued calm until Wednesday the 29th. During that day a
breeze sprang up, and we again made the land. Captain E. and a boat’s
crew had been on shore two days, in consequence of our drifting
away from the land. They came off on this day, bringing with them
some sweet potatoes and two fine large turtle. But very few persons
reside on these islands—some twelve or fifteen. Mr. Savory, the
oldest inhabitant, came to Peel’s Island in 1812, and has never left
it. All living on the island are English or American. Irish and sweet
potatoes, corn, melons, onions, and nearly all kinds of vegetables,
are raised with the greatest ease. Oranges and pine-apples are of
spontaneous growth, and abundant. Green turtle, also, are found here
in great numbers, and easily procured.
The expedition to Japan, under Commodore Perry, paid this island
a visit, and the commodore was very strongly impressed with the
idea of making it a naval and coal dépôt for vessels plying between
San Francisco, Australia, and Hong Kong; so much so that he took
possession of a portion of it (with the consent and approbation of
the inhabitants), and sent on shore three men, with agricultural
implements, seeds, live-stock, etc., to experiment, while he
proceeded to the Loo Choos, and to await his return.
The reader will doubtless recollect one “John Wilds,” who sailed with
us a short time during the first part of the voyage, and who left to
go to the gold mines in Australia. What was our surprise to find him
living on Peel’s Island. He informed us that, finding it rather hard
digging in Australia, he shipped for Hong Kong, where he joined a
whaler. Serving a short season in her, he left, and had since resided
on Peel’s Island, raising vegetables, and catching turtle for ships.
He had thrown aside the _profession_ of sailor, and had become a
_merchant_.
While all hands were busily engaged, from ship to shore, and shore
to ship, laying in a stock of vegetables and turtle for our last
cruise, one of our men became so enamored with Peel’s Island that he
concluded to take French leave. Accordingly, while on shore, he took
to his heels and made off. The officer in charge of the boat gave
chase, but the man was too nimble for him, and he was soon out of
sight. Foolish fellow! he was the loser some four hundred dollars by
the operation, and in a few months later lost his life, having been
capsized in a boat and drowned.
We now come to the last anniversary of our nation’s birthday that we
were destined to spend together in our ocean home, and we resolved
that it should be a merry one. All unnecessary work was suspended;
the doctor was ordered to serve up his best dishes for the occasion,
and all hands went in for a merry time—a celebration on our own hook.
During the morning a national salute was fired, the glorious stars
and stripes floating proudly at our mizzen peak the mean while. At
twelve dinner was announced. The bill of fare, as presented by the
doctor, was turtle soup, boiled turtle, fried turtle, and turtle in
every conceivable way; sweet potatoes; cakes; pies; custards; turtle
eggs, fried and boiled; plum duff, etc., etc.—the whole forming a
repast that Jack seldom sits down to. All hands did ample justice to
the dinner, which the old darkey cook received as a great compliment.
“I tought,” said he, “I fix dinner for you dis foufh July just suit
you, and I been gone done it.” We now postponed further proceedings
until evening. Among other good things, the steward had brewed a
barrel of excellent small beer for the occasion from sweet potatoes
and hops. And now the watch had been set; none on deck save the man
at the wheel and the officer pacing his rounds. Forward were all
hands in the forecastle, which was brilliantly illuminated by the
real spermaceti—the spoils of our own hard-fought battles—each one
seated with his pot of beer before him. The song was called for;
and “Hail Columbia!” was sung by Yankees, Englishmen, Frenchmen,
Spaniards, Portuguese, and Kanakas, as never sung before. Patriotic
speeches followed, and the sentiment of devotion to our country was
toasted: “three times three,” with a will, was given for the “land
of the free and the home of the brave.” The Kanakas and Portuguese,
although not understanding the “merits of the case,” entered into
the sport with a hearty good-will, drinking their small-beer,
occasionally exclaiming, “Hurra Fourth July! very good; I like s’pose
he come every day.” And thus our last Fourth of July in a whaler
passed. Although not making as much of a “splurge” as did many
_patriots_ on that day, yet our hearts beat as true, and expressed as
much devotion to our country.
From this time our good fortune, that had followed us during the
cruise so far, appeared to gain. During the next thirty days we
captured nearly three hundred barrels of oil, which was in itself
a good season’s work. Fortune had at last crowned our efforts with
success, and each day, as it passed, would hear some one exclaim,
“One day less on board the old hooker!”
Nothing of peculiar interest transpired further during the cruise
except an occasional meeting with a brother whaleman. We were all
the time working our way to the eastward, preparatory to leaving the
ground in September. On Tuesday, August 4th, spoke the “Rambler,” of
Nantucket, Captain Potter. Soon after parting company, we lowered
our boats and captured two large whales, they yielding us about one
hundred and sixty barrels of oil. On the 25th of the same month we
gammed with the “Hope,” of New Bedford, Captain Gifford. We found him
quite ill, and hardly able to walk the deck; yet in this same feeble
condition, a few days previous, when whales were raised, he had been
placed in his boat, bolstered up with pillows, and actually captured
a large whale. Nothing, he said, but his anxiety to get a good
voyage induced him to do so.
The following day we again gammed with our old friends of the
“Roscoe.” It will be remembered that we had with us a Kanaka from
Simpson’s Island, whom we called “Dick Simpson.” As he did not
wish to go to America, the captain told him that he might go into
the first ship that we met that would take him to his island. An
opportunity now presented itself in the “Roscoe,” and Dick availed
himself of it. The captain gave him his discharge, and paid him in
tobacco, pipes, calico, trinkets, etc.—the currency of “his land”—and
Dick prepared to leave us. Nearly every one of the crew made him
some present as a token of affection, for we all loved good-natured,
obliging Dick Simpson. What if his skin was of a dingy hue, he had
a brave, good heart, as we all could testify, and we could see that
heart was heavy as he bade us each an adieu. The “pumps” of more
than one warm-hearted sailor were “set going” on that occasion, but
none were ashamed of them. Neither was he soon forgotten, but long
remembered by us all.
We now, for a few days, turned our attention to fishing on a somewhat
different scale than we had been. It is a peculiarity of the Japan
sperm-whale fishing-ground that ships are surrounded nearly the
whole season by albicore and bonita. These fish are easily caught in
the following manner: the fisherman seats himself upon the weather
rail, first provided with a line and hook, the _bait_ consisting of
a small piece of white rag. This is fastened to the back of the hook
in a peculiar manner, so as to resemble a pair of wings as much as
possible. Then skimming the hook thus baited along the surface of the
water as the ship goes through it, the foolish albicore or bonita
sees it, and, thinking to make a meal off some unlucky flying-fish,
makes a leap for it, and finds himself immediately landed upon deck.
Often have we sat thus, and hauled them in as fast as we could drop
the line and disengage the hook. As we before remarked, all hands,
for two or three days, turned our attention to this kind of fishing,
and we soon had about fifty barrels of them cleaned and salted for
“liberty money” in the Sandwich Islands: they there command the
highest price.
[Illustration]
As there must be a “_first time_ for every thing,” so, we suppose,
there must be a “last time” also. We had had our “first lowering,”
and the time had now arrived when, we hoped, we were to have our
“last.” The captain had informed us that, “just as soon as we
got one hundred and fifty barrels more, we could sing ‘Homeward
Bound.’” No one was dull now at masthead; all eyes were open; and
the mastheads were double manned with volunteers every day. Not long
was it to be before our wishes were gratified. On the morning of
Friday, September 2, at about 8 o’clock, the old cry—never before
so welcome—“T-h-e-r-e s-h-e b-l-o-w-s!” broke forth. The excitement
that ensued beggars description. The day was beautiful; the whales
were to leeward; and a nice breeze was sending us slowly through
the water. Every circumstance was in our favor. The men knew the
conditions of our being able to soon point our ship’s head homeward.
We were now nearly four years from home. Many of us had heard no
word—not even a _word_—from the dear friends we left behind. Every
man looked “whale” as he stepped into the boat, and our young fourth
mate—a boy in years, but a _man_ in soul—said to his crew as he left
the ship, “Boys, you need not expect to put foot upon the Emily’s
decks again till we have drawn the claret from one of those fellows.”
And they did not. In less than two hours after lowering, two more
of the leviathans of the deep had ceased to live. They were brought
alongside and secured. The captain now called all hands aft, and
complimented them upon the day’s success, proposed three cheers,
which were given, and which made the old ship ring again: “And now,”
said he, “let us have their jackets in on deck as soon as possible.”
The following Wednesday we stowed down the oil, and found we had one
hundred and sixty barrels, ten more than we asked for, but which
was “good for leeway.” The ship’s head was now pointed toward the
Sandwich Islands, with all sail, every stitch we could carry, crowded
upon her. Joy now reigned throughout the ship.
On Monday, October 10th, we sighted the islands of Maui and Molokai.
The weather was thick and squally, and we stood off and on the
land that night, and the following day steered down the passage
between the two islands. At noon we came in sight of the anchorage
and shipping, but, the wind dying away to a calm, we were not able
to come to an anchor until 4 P.M. of the next day, Wednesday. It
was hard to bear, lying in a calm, in sight of the anchorage, for
twenty-four hours; but we had to submit. But we finally dropped our
anchor, for the last time on foreign soil, in the harbor of Lahaina,
island of Maui.
[Illustration: HAWAIIAN ISLANDS]
[Illustration: LAHAINA.]
Strictly speaking, there is no harbor at this island. The anchorage
is merely a roadstead, which is on the south side of it, and
protects the shipping from the northerly gales, which are the most
prevalent. In case of a sou’easter, however, ships must put to sea or
be driven on the reef. We found about seventy sail at anchor, about
sixty-five of them American whalemen.
As soon as the anchor was down we were visited by the harbor-master,
accompanied by the seamen’s chaplain, Rev. Mr. Bishop. After the
former had transacted his business, the latter addressed to us some
very excellent remarks, distributed several copies of the “Seamen’s
Friend,” and concluded by cordially inviting all to come and see
him; also to attend Bethel on the Sabbath. The “Seamen’s Friend” is
a sheet published at Honolulu, Wauhoo, by Father Damon, as he is
familiarly called, and is devoted to the spiritual and temporal good
of the sailor.
The town of Lahaina (pronounced _Lahena_) is beautifully situated
on the level land skirting the sea, and extends along the shore a
distance of two miles. Back from the shore it reaches to the foot of
the mountains, thus lying hemmed in, as it were, by the sea in front
and the mountains in the rear. The streets are lined with beautiful
shade-trees on either side, which, in the hot weather, afford a cool
and delicious retreat. The reef extends the whole length of the town,
about forty rods from shore, and, but for a small opening or break
in it, boats would be unable to land. In times of a southerly gale
the breakers extend across this passage, and then it is extremely
difficult and dangerous to go through. Many seamen have lost their
lives in attempting to go through the passage at such times.
Immediately in front of the landing is a large fort, built of coral
rock, yet not very formidable in its appearance. The black guns which
peer over the dingy walls are of small calibre, and not capable
of doing much execution. The site is a most excellent one, as the
whole shipping lies within its range. It is guarded by a portion
of the Hawaiian army, who look _malicious_ enough, though not much
like _militia_. They have very little of the air and appearance of
soldiers.
The main or principal street runs nearly east and west, and on it are
situated the public stores, and most of the residences of the foreign
population. We found, also, a large and commodious hotel on the north
side of this street, the front commanding a view of the shipping,
and the sides and back surrounded by a beautiful grove, altogether
one of the most beautiful and lovely spots imaginable. This hotel is
frequented by captains and officers of the various ships in port.
On the first street in the rear of the one above mentioned stands a
native church. It is under the direction of American missionaries.
Rambling about in search of something new, we accidentally came to
a “Seamen’s Reading-room,” in the basement of the Bethel Church.
Here we found late papers from all parts of the Union, and were
soon lost to every thing but them. As evening drew nigh, it warned
us that we must depart, but with more of a _home_ feeling than
we had experienced for years. This reading-room is supported by
voluntary contributions from seamen visiting Lahaina, and is under
the direction and charge of Rev. Mr. Bishop, its founder. It is open
from 8 A.M. to 5 P.M., and is situated in a delightfully cool and
shady spot. It forms an excellent retreat from the scorching rays
of the sun, and too much praise can not be awarded to Mr. B. for
his kindness and liberality in establishing so useful and pleasant
a place of resort for the sailor to pass his hours in instructive
reading.
The form of government of the Sandwich Islands is too well known
to need even a passing notice here. The king resides at Honolulu,
which is the capital of the kingdom, but he has a palace in the
eastern portion of this village, which is his residence while on
this island, attending to matters of government. It is a large stone
building, two stories, with a piazza at either end. It resembled a
prison, we thought, more than a palace.
It is well known that the missionaries of the cross have been the
humble instruments in the hands of God of doing much good at these
islands. We were informed that nearly all the natives of influence
throughout the kingdom had united with the Church of Christ, and were
earnest in their efforts to promote the happiness and prosperity of
the whole population. Yet many of them (the lower classes) cling
to the superstitions of their ancestors, and, so long as they do,
they must remain rude and ignorant. The climate appears to agree
with foreign residents remarkably well. Although situated within
the tropics, the northeast trade-winds, which almost constantly
blow here, cool the atmosphere, and make it exceedingly genial and
pleasant. Being situated nearly in the centre of the North Pacific,
the temperature of the atmosphere is very regular, seldom varying
more than five degrees for months; and we were informed by an old
resident that he had not known the thermometer to vary ten degrees in
years. It generally is about eighty in the shade.
Back from the village, upon a fine eminence, is a missionary
settlement, called Lahainaluna, with schools for the education of
the young. It is a beautiful location. In front may be seen the
village of Lahaina and the shipping, with the island of Molokai in
the distance; to the right, Wauhoo and Ranai present themselves to
the eye of the beholder; on the left, Tahoorowa; and on a clear day
the volcanic heights of Mount Roa, on the island of Owyhee, loom up
in the far-off sky like a huge bank of black clouds threatening a
tempest. Fresh breezes sweep down the gulleys of the mountains, laden
with the perfumes of the orange, the banana, pine-apple, and mountain
apple trees; the beautiful grounds laid out with taste: all these
combined render Lahainaluna what its native name indicates—the Lovely
Mountain Home.
The principal authority on the island of Maui (pronounced _Mowee_) is
vested in a governor. He is assisted, however, by petty chiefs, or
captains, who hold their office by his appointment. Subordinate to
these are the _kikos_, or Kanaka policemen, who patrol the streets
day and night. They are hated and despised by natives and foreigners,
and frequently take advantage of Jack Tar by allowing him to do as he
pleases for a time, and then, for some _trifling_ breach of the laws,
arresting him, and taking him to the calaboose or lock-up.
Seamen are obliged to be clear of the beach at drum-beat—eight
o’clock in the evening. No person is allowed to remain on shore over
night, unless furnished with a proper pass by the captain of the
port; and any one found on the beach, or in the town, with no pass,
after the proper time, is marched to the calaboose, where he is kept
in confinement till morning, and then mulcted in a pretty round sum
for breaking the laws. This is generally paid by the captain, and
afterward, with pretty good interest, deducted from Jack’s pay.
Saturday is a holiday with all hands in Lahaina. Every body and
their wives procure horses on that day, great numbers of which are
found here, and pass the whole day in horseback riding. Go where you
will, in whatever street you like, you will see a gay cavalcade of
equestrians approaching, male and female. The latter dress in the
gayest of gay calico, the “yaller” being the predominant color, and,
seating themselves astride a horse in the same manner as the men,
with six or eight feet of the calico swinging on each side, galloping
through the streets, they present a rather novel appearance.
The Hawaiians appear to have queer ideas of justice. What is crime
when committed by a foreigner, can be done with impunity by a
native. For instance: a native is allowed to gallop through the
streets at the highest rate of speed to which he can urge his horse,
while a foreigner must content himself with riding on a slow walk,
except in the outskirts of town. We were witness to an occurrence
of this kind one day. An officer belonging to one of the ships in
port was mounted upon a fractious horse, and, while passing near
the grand square, the animal became frightened, and commenced his
antics, endeavoring to run. It was with difficulty that the rider was
enabled to retain his seat; and several kikos, perceiving what was
the matter, ran and caught the horse by the bridle, and ordered the
officer to dismount, telling him he had broken the laws against fast
riding, and must go to jail or calaboose. This he refused to do, but
offered to give bail for his appearance before the police magistrate
the next morning to answer to the charge. This was accordingly done;
and on the trial the following morning, he was fined. Not a day
passed while we were on shore that we did not see natives riding at a
high rate of speed through the principal streets of Lahaina.
On Sunday morning, October 16th, the packet, with the mail from
Honolulu, arrived. We hastened on shore, and were met by the
captain, who reached forth a letter—_the first in four years_—which
was immediately recognized by the superscription. It is useless
to attempt describing our feelings. They who have been “in like
circumstances” can understand them—no others can. As the boat was
passing from shore to ship, thousands of thoughts rushed through our
mind, coming one upon another like a hurricane. Break the seal there
and then we durst not. No; we would wait till we got in some quiet
corner on board, and there, undisturbed by any thing, first learn
the good or bad news. We felt that during the long interval of four
years many changes must necessarily have taken place; perhaps some
of those we most loved had been taken away, and we would never more
behold their face this side heaven. But we remembered that all things
were in the hands of a good and wise GOD, and in Him we could trust.
Arriving on board, we hastened to a quiet nook, and there, with
trembling hand, broke the seal. What was our happiness to read “all
are well,” and that the rover was not forgotten, but that prayers
daily ascended to a Throne of Grace that he might be returned in
safety to his home. We read and reread the precious words, and our
heart went out in thanksgiving to that Almighty Power who had thus
far brought us on our dangerous voyage. In the afternoon we attended
Bethel, but fear that the sermon did not profit us much, as our
thoughts would wander, in spite of us, to that home “far over the
deep blue sea.”
The productions of these islands are similar to those of most
tropical climes. Grapes are raised in great abundance and of a
superior flavor. The wine made from them is said to be excellent,
especially for medicinal purposes, in comparison with other wines.
Melons of all descriptions are raised here in great abundance,
and are not equaled, we think, by any raised on Yankee soil. The
attention of the more enterprising natives and half-breeds has of
late been turned to the cultivation of sugar and cotton, and we
predict the time to be not far distant when they will be the staple
productions of the islands.
While at Lahaina we formed the acquaintance of Captain M‘Culloch,
then master of the clipper whaler “Niagara,” of Fairhaven. He related
to us an incident in which he figured somewhat conspicuously, and we
take the liberty of giving it here for the benefit of the reader.
It will serve to show that the whaleman has dangers with which to
contend aside from those connected with killing the monster of the
deep.
While the “Sharon,” of New Bedford, Captain Morris, was cruising
near the King Mill Group, whales were raised, and the boats sent in
pursuit. Captain M., two Kanakas, and a boy remained on board. For
some time after the boats left the captain remained at masthead,
watching the boats and whales. The boy then went to masthead, leaving
the two natives on deck, and soon after the captain came down. He
was immediately attacked by the natives, murdered, and his body cut
in small pieces, and _thrown to the hogs_. On seeing this, the boy
immediately went to work and cut all the running rigging, thereby
disabling the ship, and preventing her from being run ashore, as
the natives wished to do, being near to land. Those in the boats,
seeing the condition of things, and rightly judging something to
be wrong, immediately gave up the chase and returned. When within
hailing distance, the natives cried out to them that, if they came
on board, they were dead men, at the same time holding up to their
view portions of the captain’s dead body. The boats retired a short
distance to consult as to the best manner of retaking the ship. Mr.
M‘C., at that time third officer of the vessel, offered to board her
if six men would volunteer to accompany him; but, among twenty-four,
none appeared willing to make the attempt. In justice to them,
however, it is proper to state that it was more a want of presence
of mind than of bravery that deterred them. He persuaded, advised,
coaxed, and threatened, but all to no purpose. He then offered to go
if one could be found willing to accompany him, but a panic appeared
to have seized hold upon them, and not one would venture. Knowing
that something must be done, and that speedily, he said, “It was as
well to die on board the ship, fighting in her defense, as to fall
into the hands of the natives on shore, and be butchered by them.”
Divesting himself of his clothing, he took a large boat-knife, and,
as it was nearly dark, plunged overboard, and cautiously swam for
the stern of the vessel. This he reached undiscovered. Fortunately,
a rope was towing over the stern, which he seized, and by almost
superhuman efforts, succeeded in swinging himself into the cabin
windows. Groping about, he found a pair of heavy horse-pistols, and,
while examining one of them, accidentally dropped it. The natives
heard the noise, and rushed into the cabin. Mr. M‘C. knocked the
foremost one down with the remaining pistol; the other being armed
with a cutlass, a fierce and savage fight ensued in the dark. It
ended in the Kanaka being slain, Mr. M‘C. receiving a severe wound in
the thigh. After having securely bound the one stunned by the blow
from the pistol, he went on deck, and made signals for the boats to
come alongside. It was some time, however, before they ventured to
do so, as they thought that Mr. M‘C. was murdered, and the natives
were endeavoring to allure them to a similar fate; but on hearing his
well-known voice they immediately came on board. All sail was now
made upon the ship, and she was soon clear of the land. The prisoner
was handed over to the authorities of the next port they visited,
tried, and executed for piracy on the high seas.
We accidentally learned that a fellow-townsman was lying sick at the
hospital, and hastened to visit him. On arriving, we inquired for
him, and were led to his bedside. It proved to be a Mr. Stoddard,
who had, like ourself, been trying life in a whaler. He went one
season in the “Arctic,” and, on his return to Lahaina, finding
his health completely shattered, procured his discharge, and was
placed in the hospital, there to die, away from home and friends.
We found his case to be one demanding great sympathy. For one year
had he been there with that deceitful disease, consumption. During
this time he had heard no word from the loved ones at home, nor
met with any one from that locality. How eagerly did he grasp our
hands, and, although we had never been acquainted with each other
at home, yet we felt like brothers. He said this meeting was to him
the brightest spot of his life; that never before had he so longed
to see any one from home as while he had been in the hospital. He
was very pale and thin, and fast wasting away, yet very patient and
resigned. Trusting in the blessed Jesus for a home beyond the grave,
where shall be “no more sorrow, sickness, or death,” he cheerfully
submitted to his sufferings, believing they would “work out for him a
far more exceeding weight of glory.” He spoke of his physician, Dr.
Dow, in terms of the highest praise; also of the Rev. Mr. Bishop—of
the words of comfort and consolation he had poured into his wretched
and distracted heart—of the feeling and beautiful manner in which he
had pointed him to the “Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of
the world”—of his daily visits, always bringing consolation. Handing
us a Bible, well worn, he said, “Take this book, and give it to my
parents. Tell them that, although I shall never more see them on
earth, yet I trust and pray that I may meet them in heaven. Tell them
I die firm in the Christian faith; that I have gone to Jesus with
my sins, and he has taken them all from me, and blessed me; that my
whole trust is in Him; that my peace is made with GOD, and I long
to be released from this world of sin and death to dwell with Jesus
evermore.” His voice appeared to fail him; and, as we extended to him
our hand, with tearful eyes, we felt that we were clasping his for
the last time. As we turned to depart, our ears caught these words
issuing from his lips:
“How sweet the name of Jesus sounds
In a believer’s ear.”
We bade him farewell, and returned to the ship with a sad and heavy
heart. We felt to thank GOD that we were yet in health and strength,
and to ask Him to return us to our friends at home safely. On
reaching the hospital the following morning, we found that Stoddard
had peacefully departed during the preceding night. He “fell sweetly
asleep in Jesus.”
Much has been written and said about the shark, and, to speak
plainly, many falsehoods told. It has become a common idea that
_all_ sharks will devour a man as soon as look at him, if they get a
chance; but a more delusive one was never entertained. Of the many
different varieties of sharks, there are but two that will attack a
man in the water. These are the _blue_ shark, and the _ground_, or
_shovel-nosed_ shark. No more danger need be apprehended from the
common brown shark than from a porpoise. We have often seen a Kanaka
jump overboard in a perfectly calm day, and swim after them with
a sheath-knife, endeavoring to stab them, but Johnny Shark would
keep out of his reach. And whenever we had a whale alongside, the
sharks would be around in great numbers, and yet never touch the
boat-steerer, who was overboard on the whale. But of the blue and
ground sharks, the farther one keeps from them the better for his
safety. On the night of Sunday, October 23d, one of the officers of
the “South Boston,” while walking the deck, made a misstep and fell
overboard. Hearing the splash, some of the crew jumped into the boat
alongside, and hauled under the stern, where the man had fallen;
but no sign or trace was to be seen of him. He was an excellent
swimmer, but, in all probability, was seized by one of the numerous
ground-sharks that prowl round the shipping in port. The water
in Lahaina is very clear, the bottom being distinctly visible at
the depth of twenty fathoms, or one hundred and twenty feet; and,
although every search was made the next morning at daylight, the body
could nowhere be found. No doubt now remained but he had fallen a
victim to the rapacity of the voracious ground-shark.
On the afternoon of this Sabbath we attended service in the Kanaka
church. It was filled with natives of both sexes, intermingled with
whites, of whom here and there might be seen one. The interior of the
church is fashioned similar to our American ones—very tasty and neat,
without being gaudy. In the morning the sermon is delivered in the
native tongue; in the afternoon, in English.
The natives of these islands, like all others who have been visited
by Europeans, have suffered from the dreadful ravages of diseases
brought by the latter. During our stay at Lahaina, the small-pox
raged with great violence there and at Honolulu. Hundreds of the
natives were swept off, and, what appeared very singular, scarcely a
white man was attacked, and none died from it, although hundreds of
seamen were daily exposed.
In the following chapter we give a “legend,” as related to us by
an old native whose acquaintance we formed, probably the “oldest
inhabitant;” and then, with the reader, we will be “homeward bound.”