HONOLULU AND THE ISLAND OF OAHU.
THE HARBOUR OF HONOLULU--IMPORTANCE OF ITS SITUATION--THE
CITY--CHURCHES AND THEATRES--THE POST OFFICE--THE SUBURBS--THE KING'S
PALACE--THE NUUANU VALLEY--POI--PEOPLE COMING DOWN THE VALLEY--THE
PALI--PROSPECT FROM THE CLIFFS--THE NATIVES (KANAKAS)--DIVERS--THE
WOMEN--DRINK PROHIBITION--THE CHINESE--THEATRICALS--MUSQUITOES.
When I came on deck in the early morning, the sun was rising behind
the mountains which form the background of Honolulu as seen from the
harbour, tipping them with gold and red, and bathing the landscape in
beauty. I could now survey at leisure the lovely scene.
I found we had entered a noble harbour, round which the town of
Honolulu is built, with its quays, warehouses and shipyards. Looking
seaward, I observe the outer bay is nearly closed in at its lower
extremity by the long ridge-like hill, called Diamond Head. Nearer at
hand, behind the town, is a remarkable eminence called Punchbowl Hill,
evidently of volcanic origin, crowned with a battery, and guarding the
entrance to the smaller bay which forms the harbour.
The entrance to the harbour is through a passage in one of the coral
reefs which surround the island, the coral insects building upwards
from the submerged flanks of the land, until the reefs emerge from the
waves, more or less distant from the shore. As the water at the
shallowest part of the entrance is only about twenty-two feet, vessels
of twenty-feet draught and over have to remain outside, where,
however, there is good anchorage and shelter, unless when the wind
blows strong from the south. The water inside the reefs is usually
smooth, though the waves outside may be dashing themselves to foam on
their crests.
A glance at the situation of the Sandwich Islands on the map will
serve to show the important part they are destined to play in the
future commerce of the Pacific. They lie almost directly in the course
of all ships passing from San Francisco and Vancouver to China and
Japan, as well as to New Zealand and Australia. They are almost
equidistant from the coasts of Russia and America, being rather
nearer to the American coast, from which they are distant about 2100
miles. They form, as it were, a stepping-stone on the great ocean
highway of the Pacific between the East and the West--between the old
world and the new--as well as between the newest and most prosperous
settlements in the Western States of America and Australia. And it is
because Honolulu--the principal town in the island of Oahu, and the
capital of the Sandwich Islands--possesses by far the best, most
accessible, and convenient harbour, that it is a place likely to
become of so much importance in the future. It has not been unusual to
see as many as from a hundred to a hundred and fifty sail riding
securely at anchor there.
[Illustration: (Map of Oahu, Sandwich Islands)]
As seen from the harbour, Honolulu is an extremely pretty place. It
lies embowered in fresh green foliage, the roofs of the houses peeping
up here and there from amongst the trees, while the waving fronds of
the cocoa-nut palms rise in some places majestically above them,
contrasting strangely with the volcanic crags and peaks which form the
distant background. In the older part of the town, to the right, the
houses are more scattered about; and from the first appearance of the
place, one would scarcely suppose that it contained so large a
population as twelve thousand, though many of the houses are
doubtless hidden by the foliage and the undulations of the ground on
which the place is built.
Behind the town, a plain of about two miles in width extends to the
base of the mountain range which forms its background. The
extraordinary shapes of the mountains--their rugged ravines and
precipitous peaks--unmistakably denote the volcanic agencies that have
been at work in forming the islands, and giving to the scenery its
most marked features. Just at the back of the town, a deep valley, or
rather gorge, runs through a break in the hills, the sides of which
are covered with bright green foliage. The country, which rises
gradually up to this break in the mountains, is exceedingly
picturesque. Altogether, the first sight of the place came fully up to
my anticipations of the beauty of a tropical town in the Pacific.
I proceeded to take my first walk through Honolulu at half-past five
in the morning. It was the 25th of January--the dead of winter; but
there is no winter in Honolulu. It is as warm as August is in England;
and the warmth of the place all the year through is testified by the
fact that there is not a dwelling-house chimney in the town. I walked
along the shady streets up to the market-place, and there I found a
number of the natives squatted on their haunches, selling plantains,
oranges, bananas, fruits, and vegetables. I invested sixpence in an
enormous bunch of bananas, which I carried back with me to the ship
for the use of our party, very much to their enjoyment, for the fruit
was in perfection.
In the course of the forenoon I proceeded to explore Honolulu at
greater leisure. I found the central portion of the town consisted of
regularly laid out streets, many of the houses enclosed within
gardens. The trees standing here and there amongst the shops and
warehouses give them a fresh and primitive look. I pass several places
of worship in going to the Post Office,--the English Cathedral,
chapels of American Congregationalists, Wesleyan Methodists, and Roman
Catholics. There is also the Royal Hawaiian Theatre, and an Equestrian
Circus, as well as a Police Office. Police? "Yes; bless you, sir, we
are civilised!"
I could see the Post Office a long way off before I reached it,
standing in a small square at the head of one of the principal
streets. It was easily known by the crowd of people, both natives and
foreigners, on the steps. For the mail had just come in by the 'Moses
Taylor,' and everybody was anxious to know what had been the upshot of
the European war and the siege of Paris. That war even threatens to
disturb the peace of Honolulu itself; for there is now a French
man-of-war at anchor in the harbour, the 'Hamelin,' watching a fine
German merchant ship, the 'Count Bismarck,' that arrived a few days
before the Frenchman. The Germans have taken the precaution to paint
"Honolulu" on the stern of their vessel, and to place themselves under
the protection of the Hawaiian Government. So the commander of the
French ship, finding he can make no capture here, has weighed anchor
and steamed out of port, doubtless to lie in wait for the German
vessel outside should she venture to put to sea.
I found the Post Office a sort of joint post-office and stationer's
shop, the principal business consisting in the sale of newspapers. I
was amazed to find that though a steamer runs regularly from Honolulu
to Australia there is no postal communication with Victoria, except
_via_ America and England! This is on account of the Victorian
Government refusing to subsidize the new Californian and Australian
mail line. Should such a line become established and prosper, the
Victorians fear that an advantage would be given to Sydney, and that
Melbourne, instead of being on the main line of mail communication, as
it now is, would be shunted on to a branch. But surely there is room
enough for a mail line by both the Atlantic and Pacific routes,
without occasion for jealousy either on the part of Sydney or
Melbourne.
After settling my business at the Post Office, accompanied by my
German-Yankee fellow-passenger, I took a stroll round the town and
suburbs; though it is so open and green that it seems _all_ suburbs.
We invested a small sum in oranges, which we found in perfection, and
sucked them as we went along in the most undignified way possible. We
directed our steps to that part of the town where the better class
seemed to reside, in cool, shady lanes, the houses embowered in
large-leaved tropical trees, cocoa-nut, banana, bread-fruit, calabash,
and other palms, with cycas and tree-ferns with stems some fifteen
feet high. Flower-bearing shrubs also abounded, such as the Hibiscus,
Mairi, of which the women make wreaths, and Gardenia, with the flowers
of which they also adorn themselves. In some of the gardens water was
laid on, and pretty fountains were playing, from which it would appear
that the water supply is good, and that there is a good head of it in
some mountain reservoir above.
We strolled along to the right of the town, towards the high volcanic
mountain on which the fort is situated, the long extinct crater
showing plainly on its summit. Some years since, when a French ship
bombarded the town, the Kanakas who manned the fort, threw down their
sponges, rammers, and all, directly the first shot was fired, leaving
the fort to take care of itself.
We returned to the harbour by way of the King's palace, which is in
the centre of the town, and may be known by the royal flag floating
over it. The palace is built of coral stone, and is an unpretending
building, reminding one of a French _maison de campagne_. It stands in
about an acre of ground, ornamented with flowers, shrubs, and an
avenue of kukui and koa-trees. A native sentry stood at the gate in
his uniform of blue coat and white trousers, and with his musket duly
shouldered in regulation style.
On the following day I made an excursion with an American gentleman,
who is something of a naturalist, to the remarkable valley, or gorge,
in the mountains at the back of the town, which had so attracted my
notice when I first saw it from the deck of our ship. It is called the
Nuuanu Valley, and is well worthy of a visit. The main street of the
town leads directly up to the entrance to the valley; and on the road
we passed many pretty low-roofed houses surrounded by beautifully-kept
gardens, the houses being those of the chief merchants and consuls of
the port. They looked quite cool and pleasant, embowered in green
papyrus, tamarind, and palm-trees, which shaded them from the hot
tropical sun with their large-leaved foliage. I find the sun now, in
winter-time, so hot that it is almost intolerable. What must it be in
summer?
As we proceed, we reach the fertile land, which nearly all lies at the
foot of the mountains, the long disintegration of the high ground
having left a rich deposit for vegetable growth. Some patches of
arrowroot lie close to the road, irrigated by the streams that run
down from the mountain above. But the principal crop is the taro-plant
(_Arum esculentum_), from which the native food of _poi_ is made. Let
me say a few words about this _poi_, as it forms the main staple of
Hawaiian food. The taro is grown in pits or beds, kept very wet,--in
which case, urged by the natural heat of the climate, it grows with
immense rapidity and luxuriance. It is the succulent root which is
used for food. It is pounded into a semi-fluid mess, after which it is
allowed to stand a few days and ferment; it is then worked about with
the hands until it acquires the proper consistency for eating, when it
is stored in gourds and calabashes. It must be of a certain thickness,
neither too soft nor too firm, something of the consistency of thick
flour-paste, though glutinous, and it is eaten in the following
manner. Two fingers are dipped into the pot containing the _poi_, and
turned rapidly round until a sufficient quantity of the paste adheres
to them; then, by a rapid motion, the lot is wriggled out of the pot,
conveyed into the mouth, and the fingers are sucked clean. Young girls
dip in only one finger at a time, the men two fingers. I was
frequently invited to dip my fingers into the _poi_ and try it, being
told that it was very good; but I had not the courage.[15]
But to proceed on my walk up the Nuuanu Valley. About two miles from
the town, we came to a very pretty villa on one side of the
road,--with some large native huts, in a shady garden, on the other.
We find that this villa is the country residence of Queen Emma.
Looking in through the gate of the garden opposite, who should I see
but our quondam lady passenger from Sydney, Miss Ribbids, reclining on
a bank in the most luxurious fashion! She had walked up the valley
alone, she informed us, and the natives had been most kind to her,
giving her fruits, and wreaths of flowers for her adornment.
Proceeding up the valley, we find ourselves on high ground, our road
having been for the most part up-hill. Looking back, a charming view
lies spread before us. The sky is brilliant and unclouded. Below us
lie the town and harbour, the blue sea as smooth as a mirror,
shipping dotting the bay, and a silvery line of water breaking along
the distant reef. We begin to catch the breeze blowing from the upper
part of the valley, and it feels fresh and invigorating after toiling
under the noonday sun.
As we ascend the road we meet several of the native girls coming down
on horseback. They seem to have quite a passion for riding in the
island, and have often to be prevented racing through the streets of
Honolulu. The horses are of a poor breed; but the women, who sit
astride like the men, seem plucky riders, their long, flowing dresses
making respectable riding-habits. Most of the girls wore garlands of
_ohelo_ and other flowers round their heads, being very fond of
ornament.
Shortly after meeting the girls, a man passed us, at the usual jog
canter, with a coffin slung on the saddle in front of him, and after
him followed another rider with the lid. We remarked upon the strange
burden, and I asked of the first man, who was going to be buried? "My
wife," he replied; "me pay seventy-five dollars for um coffin." He
grinned, and seemed quite pleased with his coffin, which was really a
handsome one.
As we ascend, we seem to get quite into the bush. Thick vegetation
spreads up the steep hills on each side of us. I can now understand
how difficult it must be to travel through a tropical forest. The
brushwood grows so close together, and is so intertwined, that it
would appear almost impossible to force one's way through it. The
mountains rise higher and higher as we advance, and are covered with
lovely light-green foliage. The hills seem to have been thrown up
evenly in ridges, each ridge running up the mountain-side having its
separate peak. Here and there a small cataract leaps down the face of
a rock, shining like a silver thread, and disappearing in the
brushwood below until it comes down to swell the mountain-torrent
running by our side close to the road.
At a turn of the road, we suddenly encountered a number of men coming
down from some cattle ranches in the hills, mounted _a la Mexicaine_,
with lassoes on their saddles and heavy whips in their hands, driving
before them a few miserable cattle. There seemed to be about eighteen
men to a dozen small beasts. I guess that a couple of Australian
stockmen, with their whips, could easily have driven before them the
whole lot--men, horses, and cattle.
We were now about seven miles from Honolulu, and very near the end of
our up-hill journey. After walking up a steeper ascent than usual, the
scenery becoming even more romantic and picturesque, we pass through a
thicket of hibiscus and other trees, when suddenly, on turning round a
small pile of volcanic rocks, we emerge on an open space, and the
grand precipice or Pali, of the Nuuanu Valley bursts upon us with
startling effect.
Here, in some tremendous convulsion of Nature, the mountain-ridge
seems to have been suddenly rent and burst through towards its
summit, and we look down over a precipice some five hundred feet deep.
It is possible to wind down the face of the rock by a narrow path;
but, having no mind to make the descent, we rest and admire the
magnificent prospect before and below us. Under the precipice is a
forest, so near to the foot of the rock that one might easily pitch a
stone into it. Over the forest stretches a lovely country, green and
fresh, dotted with hills and woods. The sea, about seven miles off,
bounds the view, with its silver line of breakers on the outer reef.
The long line of white looks beautiful on the calm blue sea, with the
sun shining on it. The country before us did not seem to be much
cultivated. Here and there, below us, a native hut might be discerned
amidst the trees, but no large dwelling or village was in sight.
The rent in the mountain, through which we have passed, is torn and
rugged. Immense masses of black rock, several hundred feet in height,
and nearly perpendicular, form the two sides of the rift. On one side,
the mountain seems to rise straight up into the air, until it is lost
in a white cloud; on the other, the rock is equally precipitous, but
not quite so high. From this last the range stretches away in a
semicircle, ending along the coast some twenty miles distant.
A few more words about the natives, whom I have as yet only
incidentally alluded to. Of course, I saw a good deal of them, in one
way or another, during my brief stay at Honolulu. We had scarcely got
alongside the wharf, ere the Kanakas--as they are called--came
aboard, popping their heads in and out of the cabins, some selling
bananas and oranges, others offering coral and curiosities, but most
of them to examine the ship out of mere curiosity. From what I
observed, I should say that the Kanakas are of the same stock as the
Maoris, not so much tattoo-marked, much more peacefully inclined, and
probably more industrious. Some of the men are tall and handsome,
which is more than I can say of the women. The men do not work very
heartily on day wages, but well enough when paid by the piece. Here,
on the wharf, they get a dollar for a day's work, and a
dollar-and-a-half for night-work. They are employed in filling the
coal-bunkers and unloading the ship.
The Kanakas are capital divers, and work almost as well in the water
as out of it. I saw one of them engaged in repairing the bottom of the
'Moses Taylor,' by which I am to sail for San Francisco. He is paid
three dollars for a general inspection, or five dollars for a day's
work. I saw him go down to nail a piece of copper-sheathing on the
bottom, where it had been damaged in grounding upon a rock, when last
coming out of San Francisco harbour. He took down about thirty copper
nails in his mouth, with the hammer and sheet of copper in his hand,
coming up to breathe after each nail was knocked in. I could hear the
loud knocking as he drove the nails into the ship's side. At the same
time, some Kanaka boys were playing about in the water near at hand,
diving for stones or bits of money. The piece was never allowed to
sink more than a few feet before a boy was down after it and secured
it. They never missed the smallest silver-bit. It seemed to me as if
some of them could swim before they could walk.
As for the women, although travellers have spread abroad reports of
their beauty, I was unable to see it. While the 'Moses Taylor' lay in
the harbour, the saloon was sometimes full of native girls, who came
down from the country to see the ship and admire themselves in the two
large saloon mirrors, before which they stood laughing and giggling.
Their usual dress consists of a long, loose gown, reaching down to the
ancles, with no fastening round the waist; and their heads and necks
are usually adorned with leaves or flowers of some sort. They seem to
me very like the Maori women, but without the blue tattoo-mark on the
lips; nor are their features so strongly marked, though they had the
same wide faces, black eyes, full nostrils, and large lips. Their
skins are of various hues, from a yellow to a dusky-brown. Their feet
and hands are usually small and neat.
I am told that the race is degenerating and dying out fast. The
population of the islands is said to be little more than one-tenth of
what it was when Captain Cook visited them; and this falling off is
reported to be mainly due to the unchaste habits of the women. The
missionaries have long been trying to make a salutary impression on
them; but, though the natives profess Christianity in various forms,
it is to be feared that it is a profession, and little more. The King,
also, has tried to make them more moral, by putting in force a sort
of Maine liquor-law; but every ship that enters the harbour is beset
by natives wanting drink, and they adopt various methods of evading
the law. The licence charged by the Government to a retailer of
spirits is a thousand dollars a year; but he must not sell liquor to
any foreigner on a Sunday, nor to any native at any time, under a
penalty of five hundred dollars. This penalty is rigidly exacted; and
if the spirit-dealer is unable to pay the fine, he is put on the
coral-reefs, to work at twenty-five cents a day until he has worked
off the amount. Accordingly, the liquor-trade is followed by very few
persons, and the consumption of drink by the natives is very much
curtailed,--compared, for instance, with what it is among the
drink-consuming natives of New Zealand, who are allowed to swallow the
"fire-water," to the great profit of the publicans and to their own
demoralization, without any restriction whatever.
I find the Government here also levies a very considerable sum from
the Chinese, for the privilege of selling opium. It is put up annually
to auction, and in some years as much as forty-five thousand dollars
have been paid for the monopoly, though this year it has brought
considerably less in consequence of the dulness of trade. From this
circumstance it will be inferred that there is a considerable Chinese
population in the place. Indeed, some of the finest stores in Honolulu
are kept by Chinamen. I did not at first observe many of these people
about; but afterwards, when exploring, I found whole back-streets
full of Chinamen's huts and houses.
From the announcements of theatrical and other entertainments I see
about, the people here must be very fond of amusement. Indeed,
Honolulu seems to be one of the great centres of pleasure in the
Pacific. All wandering "stars" come hither. When I was at Auckland, in
New Zealand, I went to the theatre to see a troupe of Japanese
jugglers. I had seen the identical troupe in London, and "All Right"
was amongst them. They were on their way to Honolulu, to star it here
before returning to Japan. Charles Mathews, with whom I made the
voyage from Melbourne to Sydney, is also advertised to appear, "for a
few nights only," at the Royal Hawaiian Theatre.[16] And now here is
The Bandman, my fellow-passenger from Auckland, advertised, in big
placards, as "The World-renowned Shaksperian Player," &c., who is
about to give a series of such and such representations at the same
place.
Beautiful though the island of Oahu may be, I soon found that I could
not live there. Even in winter it was like living in a hothouse. The
air was steamy with heat, and frightfully relaxing. At intervals my
nose streamed with blood, and I grew sensibly thinner. Then I suffered
terribly from the musquitoes; my ankles were quite swollen with their
bites, and in a day or two more I should have been dead-lame. There
are, besides, other tormentors--small flies, very like the Victorian
sand-flies, that give one a nasty sting. I was very glad, therefore,
after four days' stay at Honolulu, to learn that the 'Moses Taylor'
was ready to sail for San Francisco.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 15: The poi is said to grow so abundantly and with so little
labour in the Sandwich Islands, that it tends to encourage the natural
indolence of the people. A taro pit no bigger than an ordinary
drawing-room will keep a man in food a whole year. Nature is so
prolific that labour is scarcely requisite in these hot climates. Thus
the sun may be a great demoralizer.]
[Footnote 16: I find in a Californian paper the following amusing
account by Mr. Mathews himself, of his appearance before a Honolulu
audience:--
"At Honolulu, one of the loveliest little spots upon earth, I acted
one night 'by command, and in the presence of his Majesty Kamehameha
V., King of the Sandwich Islands' (not 'Hoky Poky Wonky Fong,' as
erroneously reported), and a memorable night it was. On my way to the
quaint little Hawaiian Theatre, situated in a rural lane, in the midst
of a pretty garden, glowing with gaudy tropical flowers, and shaded by
cocoa-trees, bananas, banyans, and tamarinds, I met the playbill of
the evening. A perambulating Kanaka (or native black gentleman),
walking between two boards (called in London, figuratively, 'a
sandwich man,' but here, of course literally so), carried aloft a
large illuminated white lantern, with the announcement in the Kanaka
language to catch the attention of the coloured inhabitants: 'Charles
Mathews; Keaka Keia Po (Theatre open this evening). Ka uku o Ke Komo
ana (reserved seats, dress circle), $2.50; Nohi mua (Parquette), $1;
Noho ho (Kanaka pit), 75c.' I found the theatre (to use the technical
expression) 'crammed to suffocation,' which merely means 'very full,'
though from the state of the thermometer on this occasion,
'suffocation' was not so incorrect a description as usual. A really
elegant-looking audience (tickets 10_s._ each), evening dresses,
uniforms of every cut and every country. 'Chieftesses' and ladies of
every tinge, in dresses of every colour, flowers and jewels in
profusion, satin playbills, fans going, windows and doors all open, an
outside staircase leading straight into the dress circle, without
lobby, check-taker, or money-taker. Kanaka women in the garden below
selling bananas and pea-nuts by the glare of flaring torches on a
sultry tropical moonlight night. The whole thing was like nothing but
a midsummer-night's dream. And was it nothing to see a pit full of
Kanakas, black, brown, and whitey-brown (till lately cannibals),
showing their white teeth, grinning and enjoying 'Patter _v._ Clatter'
as much as a few years ago they would have enjoyed the roasting of a
missionary or the baking of a baby? It was certainly a page in one's
life never to be forgotten."]