CHAPTER XIX

THE PRESENT POSITION OF THE PROBLEM

“_Do not be afraid of making generalisations because knowledge is as yet

imperfect or incomplete, and they are therefore liable to alteration. It

is only through such generalisations that progress can be made._”—Dr. A.

C. Haddon as President of the Folk Lore Society, 1919.

As we leave Easter Island, we pause to review our evidence and find how

far we have progressed towards the solution of its problems.

We may dismiss the vague suggestion that the archæological remains in

the island survive from the time when it was part of a larger mass of

land. Whatever may be the geological story of the Pacific, no scientific

authorities are prepared to prove that such stupendous changes have

taken place during the time which it has been inhabited by man.[73]

Instead of indulging in surmises as to the state of the world in a

remote past, it is safer to begin with existing conditions and try to

retrace the steps of development. It has already been seen that various

links connect the people now living on Easter Island with the great

images. Tradition is not altogether extinct; in a few cases the names of

the men are actually remembered who made the individual statues, and

also those of their clans which are still in existence. But the two

strongest bonds are the wooden figures and the bird cult. The wooden

figures were being made in recent times, and they have a design on the

back resembling that on the stone images, while they also possess the

same long ears. There is no reason why a defunct type should have been

copied, and it is probable that they date at least as far back as the

same epoch. The bird cult also was alive in living memory. It is allied

to that of the statues by the residence of the bird-man among the

images, by the fact that the bird rite for the child was connected with

them, and above all by the presence of a statue of typical form in the

centre of the village at Orongo.

Assuming then, at any rate for the sake of argument, that the stone

figures were the work of the ancestors of the people of to-day, the next

step is to inquire who these people are. Here for a certain distance we

are on firm ground. They are undoubtedly connected with those found

elsewhere in the Pacific; much of their culture is similar; and even the

earliest voyagers noted that their language resembled that found on the

other islands. The suggestion that Easter Island has been populated from

South America may therefore, for practical purposes, be ruled out of the

question. If there is any connection between the two, it is more likely

that the influence spread from the islands to the continent.

Having reached this point, however, we are faced by the larger problem.

Who were the race or races who populated the Pacific? Here our firm

ground ends, for this is a very complicated subject, with regard to

which much work still remains to be done. It is impossible as yet to

make any broad statement, which is not subject to qualification, or

which can be implicitly relied on.

The Solomon group and other islands off the coast of Australia are

inhabited by a people known as Melanesians, who have dark skins, fuzzy

hair, and thick lips, resembling to some extent the natives of Africa;

this area is called Melanesia. Certain outlying islets are, however,

populated by a different race, who possess straight or wavy hair and

fairer skins. Eastward of a line which is drawn at Fiji this whiter

race, called Polynesian, predominates, and the eastern part of the

Pacific is known as Polynesia.

Broadly speaking, the theory generally accepted has been that negroid

people are the earliest denizens, and that the lighter race came down

into Melanesia through the Malay peninsula, and thence passed on through

Melanesia in a succession of waves. A large proportion of the invaders

were probably of the male sex, and took wives from amongst the original

inhabitants. They absorbed in many ways the culture of the older people,

but did not wholly abandon their own. It is suggested, for instance,

that while as a whole the conquerors adopted existing religions, the

secret societies, so often found in the Pacific, are connected with

their own rites and beliefs, which were guarded as something sacred and

apart.

It will easily be seen that the task of tracing these migrations is by

no means simple. Canoes, carrying fighting men or immigrants, bent on

victory or colonisation, passed continually from one island to another,

and each island has probably its own very complicated history. The

Maoris of New Zealand, for example, are a Polynesian race, but there are

also traces there of a darker people. Absolutely negroid elements are

found as far east as the Marquesas. Our servant Mahanga, whose features

are of that type, came from the Paumotu Islands (fig. 89).

The marvellous feats of seamanship performed in these wanderings, often

against the prevailing trade wind, would be incredible if it were not

obvious that they have been actually accomplished. The loss of life was

doubtless very great, and many boats must have started forth and never

been heard of more. The fact remains, however, that native canoes have

worked their way over unknown seas as far north as the Hawaiian or

Sandwich Islands, and that somehow or other they reached that little

spot in the waste of waters now known as Easter Island. The nearest land

to Easter now inhabited, with the exception of Pitcairn Island, is in

the Gambier Islands, about 1,200 miles to the westward; the little coral

patch of Ducie Island, which lies between the two, is nearly 900 miles

from Easter, and has no dwellers. It has been suggested that the

original immigrants may have intended to make a voyage from one known

island to another and have been blown out of their course. However this

may be, a long voyage must have been foreseen, or the boats would not

have carried sufficient provisions to reach so distant a goal. It is

even more strange to realise that, if the mixture of races found among

the islanders occurred after their arrival, more than one native

expedition has performed the miracle of reaching Easter Island.

[Illustration: This page contains a map of the Pacific Ocean.]

The traditions of the present people do not, as has been seen, give very

material assistance as to the composition of the crew nor how they

reached the island. They tell us that their ancestors were compelled to

leave their original home through being vanquished in war. This was a

very usual reason for such migrations, as the conquered were frequently

compelled to choose between voluntary exile or death; but to account for

the discovery of the island they are obliged to take refuge in the

supernatural and explain that its whereabouts were revealed in a dream.

The story of Hotu-matua gives no suggestion that the Island was already

inhabited, save for one very vague hint. The six men who formed the

first detachment of the party were told that the island as revealed in

the dream possessed not only a great crater, but also “a long beautiful

road.” The Long Ears, who according to tradition were exterminated by

the Short Ears, may have been an earlier race, but it cannot be claimed

that the story tells us so. The two peoples are represented as coming

together, or as living side by side on the island. The whole account is

rendered more puzzling by the fact that, while the Short Ears are said

to have been the ancestors of the present people, the fashion of making

long the lobe of the ear prevailed on the island till quite recently.

It is noteworthy, however, that a legend exists elsewhere which

definitely reports that the later comers did find an earlier people in

possession. According to the account of Admiral T. de Lapelin,[74] there

is a tradition at Mangareva in the Gambier Islands to the effect that

the adherents of a certain chief, being vanquished, sought safety in

flight; they departed with a west wind in two big canoes, taking with

them women, children, and all sorts of provisions. The party were never

seen again, save for one man who subsequently returned to Mangareva.

From him it was learned that the fugitives had found an island in the

middle of the seas, and disembarked in a little bay surrounded by

mountains; where, finding traces of inhabitants, they had made

fortifications of stone on one of the heights. A few days later they

were attacked by a horde of natives armed with spears, but succeeded in

defeating them. The victors then pitilessly massacred their opponents

throughout the island, sparing only the women and children. There are

now no stone fortifications visible at Anakena, but one of the hill-tops

to the east of the cove has, for some reason or other, been entrenched

(fig. 96).

Turning to more scientific evidence, we find that the Islanders have

always been judged to be of Polynesian race, as indeed would naturally

be expected from the easterly position of the island in the Pacific

Ocean. They have certainly traces of that culture, and the great

authority on the subject, Mr. Sydney Ray, has pronounced the language to

be Polynesian. The surprise, therefore, which the results of the

expedition have brought to the anthropological world, is the discovery

of the extent to which the negroid element is found to prevail there

both from the physical and cultural points of view.

Melanesian skulls are mainly of the long-headed type, while Polynesian

are frequently broad-headed. A collection of fifty-eight skulls was

brought back from Easter and examined by Dr. Keith. He says in his

report: “The Polynesian type is fairly purely represented in some of the

Easter Islanders, ... but they are absolutely and relatively a

remarkably long-headed people, and in this feature they approach the

Melanesian more than the Polynesian type.” A similar statement was quite

independently made to the Royal Geographical Society on this head. In

the discussion which followed the reading of a paper on behalf of the

Expedition, Capt. T. A. Joyce of the British Museum, remarked that a few

years ago he had examined the skulls brought back from Easter Island by

the late Lord Crawford. “I then,” he continued, “wrote a paper which I

never published. It remained both literally and metaphorically a

skeleton in my cupboard, because I could not get away from the

conclusion that in their measurements and general appearance these

skulls were far more Melanesian than Polynesian.”[75] In speaking of

skulls, Dr. Keith makes the interesting remark that the Islanders are

the largest-brained people yet discovered in the islands or shores of

the Pacific, and shows that their cranial capacity exceeds that of the

inhabitants of Whitechapel.

In the culture of the island also, the Melanesian influence is very

strong. The custom of distending the lobe of the ear is much more

Melanesian than Polynesian. Dr. Haddon has pointed out that an early

illustration of an Easter Island canoe depicts it with a double

outrigger, after a type found in the Nissan group in Melanesia.[76] An

obsidian blade has been found in the area of New Guinea influenced by

Melanesian culture, which has been described and figured by Dr.

Seligman[77]; he draws attention to its striking likeness to the mataa

of Easter Island. Weapons of the same type, and wooden figures in which

the ribs are a prominent feature, have been found in the Chatham

Islands,[78] but the respective amount of Polynesian and Melanesian

culture in these islands is as yet under discussion.

The most striking evidence is, however, found in connection with the

bird cult. It has been shown by Mr. Henry Balfour that a cult with

strong resemblance to that of Easter existed in the Solomon Islands of

Melanesia. It is there connected with the Frigate-bird, a sea-bird which

usually nests in trees and is characterised by a hooked beak and gular

pouch. In treeless Easter Island the sacred bird is the Sooty Tern,

which is without the gular pouch and has a straight beak. In many of the

carvings on the island, however, the sacred bird is represented with a

hooked beak and a pouch (fig. 112). “This seems to point to a

recollection retained by the immigrants into Easter Island of a former

cult of the Frigate-bird which was practised in a region where this bird

was a familiar feature, and which was gradually given up in the new

environment when this bird, though probably not unknown, was certainly

not abundant”;[79] the cult being transferred to the locally numerous

Tern.

[Illustration:

FIG 125.

BIRD AND HUMAN DESIGNS.

1, 2, 3, 4, from the Solomon Islands.

1_a_, 2_a_, 3_a_, 4_a_, from the script, Easter Island.

BIRD HEADS ON HUMAN BODIES.

5. Wooden float for fishing-net, Solomon Islands.

5_a._ Painting from an Orongo house, Easter Island.

HUMAN HEADS WITH BIRD CHARACTERISTICS.

6. On a bird body. Float for net, Solomon Islands.

7. On a human body. Canoe-prow god, Solomon Islands.

8. Profile of a stone statue, Easter Island.

BIRD-HUMAN FIGURES IN THE SOLOMON ISLANDS AND EASTER ISLAND.

Selected from the figures illustrating an article by H. Balfour,

Curator of the Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford . _Folk Lore_, December

1917.

]

Figures were also made in the Solomon Islands composed partly of bird

and partly of human form. Bird heads appear on human bodies, as in

Easter Island, and also human heads on bird bodies (fig. 125). It is

noteworthy that, even when the head which is drawn on the bird body is

human, it is depicted with bird-like characteristics, the lower part of

the face being given a beak-like protrusion, till sometimes it is almost

impossible to distinguish whether the head is that of a man or a bird

(no. 6). This prognathous type, with the protrusion of the lower facial

region, appears to have become a convention, and it is found in figures

where the body as well as the head are human (no. 7). This is the kind

found in a modified form in the Easter Island stone figures; they differ

from any normal human type in either Polynesia or Melanesia.

It is impossible as yet to give with any certainty a connected account

of the early history of Easter Island, but as a working hypothesis the

following may perhaps be assumed. There was an original negroid element

which brought with it the custom of distending the ear, the wooden

figures, and also the bird cult. A whiter wave succeeded which mingled

with the first inhabitants, and the next generation adopted the fashion

of the country in stretching the lobe of the ear, and carried on the

bird cult. At some time in the course of settlement war arose between

the earlier and later comers, in which the former took refuge in the

eastern headland and were largely exterminated.

If these suppositions are so far correct, the story of the landing of

Hotu-matua and the establishment of his headquarters at Anakena refer to

the Polynesian immigration, and it seems reasonable to look to the Miru,

who are settled in that part of the island, and perhaps also to the

allied clans of the Marama and Haumoana, who together form the chief

inhabitants of the district of Kotuu, as the more direct descendants of

the Polynesian settlers. In confirmation of this we find that the ariki,

or chief, the only man who was necessarily of pure descent, is said to

have been “quite white.” The inscribed skulls, which are those of the

Miru, are reported to be of the Polynesian type. It is a somewhat

striking fact also that the ariki, in spite of his prominent position in

the island, took no part in the bird cult ceremonies.

In endeavouring to arrive at even an approximate date for these

immigrations to the island, evidence outside its borders is likely to

prove our best guide. In the present state of our knowledge we cannot

even guess how long the negroid element has been in the Pacific, but the

lighter races are believed to have entered it not earlier than the

Christian era. The colonisation of the Paumotus is placed at A.D.

1000,[80] and it has been suggested by Volz that the Polynesian wave

reached Easter Island about A.D. 1400.

There is at present no evidence to show whether the great works were

initiated by the earlier or the later arrivals. There are other

megalithic remains in the Pacific, notably great walls of stone in the

Caroline Islands. The Expedition found a stone statue in Pitcairn,[81]

but we have as yet no complete information with regard to these works or

the circumstances of their construction. The Polynesians are accredited

with having carried with them the fashion of erecting such monuments,

but, if they brought it to Easter Island, the form which it took was

apparently governed by conventions already existing in the island.

On the other hand, it seems possible that the makers of the images may

have come from a country where they were accustomed to model statues in

wood, and finding no such material in the island, substituted for it the

stone of Raraku. Sir Basil Thomson has pointed out that there were in

the Marquesas wooden statues standing on erections of stone and also

wooden dolls. Further knowledge of what exists elsewhere will probably

throw light on the matter, but it is, in any case, owing to the fact

that there is to be found at Easter a volcanic ash which can be easily

wrought that we have the hundreds of images in the island.

With regard to the duration of the image era, it has been shown that the

number of statues, impressive as it is, does not necessarily imply that

their manufacture covered a vast space of time. It must, however, in all

probability have extended over several centuries. As to its termination,

the worship is reported as having been in existence in 1722; at any rate

the ahu and statues were then in good repair. By 1774 some of the

statues had fallen, and by about 1840 none remained in place. It seems,

therefore, on the whole, most likely that the cult, and probably also

the manufacture of the images, existed till the beginning of the

eighteenth century. The alternative explanation can only be that though

the cult had long been dead the statues remained in place, not

materially injured either by man or weather, until Europeans first

visited the island, and that then an era of devastation set in which in

a hundred years demolished them all. This, though not actually

impossible, does not seem equally probable.

We know that a large number, probably the majority, of the statues came

to their end through being deliberately thrown down by invading enemies.

The legendary struggles between Kotuu and Hotu Iti, in which Kainga

played so prominent a part, are always spoken of as comparatively recent

history, and one old man definitely asserted that they took place in the

time of the grandfather of the last ariki, which may be as far back as

the eighteenth century. If these wars occurred between the visit of the

Dutchmen in 1722 and that of the Spaniards in 1770, it is at least

possible that it was during their course that the manufacture of the

images ended and their overthrow began. It will be remembered that,

while Roggeveen speaks of the island as cultivated and fertile, the

navigators fifty years later are greatly disappointed with the barren

condition in which they find it. In the curious absence, however, of any

reference in these legends to the conditions of the images, this must

remain, for the present at any rate, as surmise only.

It would be interesting to know more clearly the part played by the

advent of the white men in the evolution of the culture of the island.

While it cannot be definitely stated that it was their arrival which, by

detracting from the reverence paid to the statues, hastened their

downfall, we know that it largely affected native conceptions. Not only

was it the probable cause of the abandonment at the end of the

eighteenth century of the practice of distending the lobe of the

ear,[82] but it inspired a new form of worship. It is interesting to see

in the drawings of foreign ships, which appear side by side with older

designs, a new cult actually in course of intermingling with the old

forms. Did we not possess the key to them, these pictures would add one

more to the mysteries of the island.

Such evidence as can be obtained from the condition of the images points

to the fact that it cannot be indefinite ages since they were completed.

For example, in certain statues, those which are generally considered

the most recent, the surface polish still remains in its place in the

cavity representing the eye, and on parts of the neck and breast where

it has been somewhat sheltered by the chin, notwithstanding the fact

that the soft stone is one that easily weathers (_Frontispiece_).

The question as to what the statues represent is not yet fully solved.

It seems probable that the form was a conventional one and was used to

denote various things. Some of the statues may have been gods; the name

of a single image on an inland ahu, one of the very few which were

remembered, was reported to be “Moai Te Atua.” It is, however, probably

safe to regard ahu statues as being in general representations of

ancestors, either nearer or more distant, this does not necessarily

exclude the idea of divinity. The hat may have been a badge of rank;

warriors in Tahiti wore a certain type of hat as a special mark of

distinction.[83] Reasons have been given for suggesting that the images

on Raraku may have been memorials of bird-men; and we know that some of

the statues, as those on the southern slope of Raraku and in Motu Nui,

denoted boundaries. Lastly, it is not impossible that some of the

figures, such as those approaching the ahu of Paukura, were simply

ornamental, “to make it look nice.” The nearest approach which we

ourselves have to such divers employment of the same design is in our

use of the Latin cross. Fundamentally a sacred sign, it is used not only

to adorn churches and for personal ornament, but also to mark graves and

denote common and central grounds, such as the site of markets and other

public places. It is also used to preserve the memory of certain spots,

as for instance, Charing Cross, where the body of Queen Eleanor rested.

The last problem to be considered is that dealing with the tablets. An

account has been given elsewhere of what is known of their general

meaning. The figures themselves may be classed as ideograms—that is,

signs representing ideas—but it is doubtful, as has been shown, if a

given sign always represented the same idea. Each sign was in any case a

peg on which to hang a large amount of matter which was committed to

memory, and is therefore, alas! gone for ever.

No light has yet been thrown on the origin of the script. No other

writing has been found in the Pacific, if we except a form from the

Caroline Islands, and a few rock carvings in the Chatham Islands, whose

connection with the glyphs of Easter Island is as yet very doubtful.

It would be satisfactory, in view of the relation of the Miru ariki to

the tablets, and the tradition that they came with Hotu-matua, if

internal evidence could show that it was of Polynesian origin.

Unfortunately for this theory, the Melanesian bird figures largely among

the signs. It is, of course, conceivable that they may have undergone

local adaptation. While it is not probable that we shall ever be able to

read the tablets, it is not impossible that further discovery may throw

light on the history of the signs, and show to what extent the script

has been imported from elsewhere, or how far it is, with much of its

other culture, a product of the isolation of Easter Island.

PART III

_THE HOMEWARD VOYAGE EASTER ISLAND TO SAN FRANCISCO_

CHAPTER XX

PITCAIRN ISLAND

Lieutenant Bligh went to the Pacific in 1788, in command of H.M.S.

_Bounty_, with orders to obtain plants of the bread-fruit, and

introduce it into the English possessions in the West Indies.

He spent six months at Tahiti, collecting the fruit, and there the

crew fell victims to the charms of its lotus-eating life, its

sunshine, its flowers, and its women. Soon after the ship sailed the

majority of the men mutinied, being led by Christian, the Master’s

mate. They set Bligh and eighteen others adrift in an open boat, and

returned in the ship to Tahiti. Subsequently, fearing that retribution

might follow, Christian and eight fellow mutineers left Tahiti on the

_Bounty_, taking with them nine native women, and also some native men

to act as servants. For years their fate remained a mystery.

The refuge found by the party was the lonely island of Pitcairn. They

took out of the ship everything that they required, and then sank the

vessel, fearing that her presence might betray them. The new

habitation proved anything but an amicable Eden. The native servants

were ill-treated by their masters, and in 1793 rose against them,

murdering Christian and four other white men; but were finally

themselves all killed by the Europeans. The women also were

discontented with their lot, and in the following year they made a

raft in order to quit the island, an attempt which was of course

foredoomed to failure.

Of the four mutineers left, one, McCoy, committed suicide through an

intoxicating drink made from the ti plant. Another, Quintal, having

threatened the lives of his two comrades, Adams and Young, was killed

by them with an axe, in self-defence. A woman who witnessed the scene

as a child, survived till 1883, and we were told by her grandchildren

that her clearest recollection was the blood-spattered walls and the

screaming women and children. Young, who had been a midshipman on the

_Bounty_, died shortly after, and in 1800 John Adams (_alias_

Alexander Smith) was left the sole man on the island, with the native

women and twenty-five children.

Later ensued not the least strange part of the story. Adams was

converted by a dream, and awoke to his responsibility towards the

younger generation. He taught them to read from a Bible and

Prayer-book saved from the _Bounty_, and the offspring of the

mutineers became a civilised and God-fearing community.

The small colony were first found by an American ship, the _Topaz_, in

1808, but little seems to have been heard of the discovery, and six

years later H.M. ships _Briton_ and _Tagus_, sailing near the island,

were much astonished at being hailed by a boat-load of men who spoke

English.

By 1856 the population of Pitcairn numbered about one hundred and

ninety, and they were removed, by their own request, to the larger

Norfolk Island. Six homesick families, however, against the strong

advice of Bishop Selwyn, subsequently returned to Pitcairn.

In the afternoon of Wednesday, August 18th, 1915, the last vestige of

the long coast of Easter Island dipped below the horizon. We realised

that we were homeward bound. Owing to the war, and our prolonged

residence on the island, it was no longer possible to keep to the plan

made before leaving England and follow up Easter trails elsewhere in the

Pacific. We decided, however, to adhere to the original arrangement of

going first to Tahiti, and then to make the return voyage by the Panama

Canal, which was now open. One of our principal objects in visiting

Tahiti was to collect all the letters, newspapers, and money which had

been forwarded to us there during the last twelve months. With the

exception of one stray letter, written the previous November, we had had

no mail since _Mana’s_ first return to the island a year before. It

seemed desirable to visit Pitcairn Island on the way thither; it was but

little out of our route, and was said to have prehistoric remains.

We had a very good voyage for the 1,100 miles from Easter to Pitcairn,

staggering along with a following wind. The wind was indeed so strong

that we became anxious for the safety of the dinghy in her davits, and

swung her inboard for, I believe, the only time on the voyage. We

arrived at Pitcairn on August 27th. The island, as seen from the sea,

rises as a solitary mass from the water. It is apparently the remaining

half of an old crater, and is some two miles in width. An amphitheatre

of luxuriant verdure faces northwards; its lowest portion, or arena, is

perhaps 400 feet above sea-level, and rests on the top of a wall of grey

rock. The other three sides of the amphitheatre are encircled by high

precipitous cliffs. The green gem, in its rocky setting, was a

refreshing change after treeless Easter Island.

[Illustration:

FIG. 126.

PITCAIRN ISLAND FROM THE SEA.

]

[Illustration:

FIG. 127.

PITCAIRN ISLAND: CHURCH AND RESIDENCE OF MISSIONARIES.

]

[Illustration:

FIG. 128.

PITCAIRN ISLAND: BOUNTY BAY.

]

_Mana_ was welcomed by a boat-load of sturdy men, who were definitely

European in appearance and manner; they were mostly of a sallow white

complexion, though a few had a darker tinge. They spoke English, though

with an intonation different from that of the Dominions, America, or the

Homeland. A local patois is sometimes used on the island which is a

mixture of English and Tahitian, but pure Tahitian is not understood. A

graceful invitation was given by the Chief Magistrate, Mr. Gerard

Christian, to come and stay on shore, and was accepted for the following

day, which, the Islanders said, “will be the Sabbath.” This was a

somewhat surprising statement, as the day was Friday, and caused a

momentary wonder whether something had gone wrong with the log of

_Mana_. “We will explain all that later,” added our hosts.

The next morning therefore the big ten-oared boat turned up again, Mr.

Christian bringing us the following kind letter from the missionaries,

who we now learned were on the island. It was addressed “To the

Gentlemen concerned.”

PITCAIRN ISLAND.

27. 8. 1915.

“DEAR SIR AND MADAM,

“It is with pleasure that we extend this invitation to you to share

with us the few comforts of our little Island home. We cannot offer

luxury, we live simply yet wholesomely. Should you be planning to

sleep ashore, it will be well to bring your pillows, towels and toilet

soap. We trust that your stay will be attended with success.

“Yours very cordially,

“MR. and MRS. M. R. ADAMS.”

We suggested bringing food, but that was declined as unnecessary. The

trip to the shore, even in so big a boat, is somewhat adventurous. The

landing-place is in Bounty Bay, below the precipitous cliffs off the

north-east corner of the island, beneath whose waters were sunk the

remains of His Majesty’s ship. The shore is reached, even under

propitious circumstances, through a white fringe of drenching surf;

happily the Islanders are excellent oarsmen, for the boat is apt to

assume the vertical position usually associated with pictures of Grace

Darling. A lifeboat sent as a gift from England in 1880 has proved too

short for the character of the waves. The village is gained by a steep

path, cut at times in the rock, and at the summit we found standing

under the trees a group in white Sunday attire waiting to welcome us.

We were now beginning to understand the meaning of the difference in

days. Service used to be held at Pitcairn after the manner of the Church

of England, but in 1886 the island was visited by one of the American

sect calling themselves “Seventh Day Adventists.” The Society is

Christian, but the members regard as binding many of the Old Testament

rules. Saturday is observed as the divinely appointed day of rest, pork

is considered unclean, and a tenth part of goods is set aside for

religious purposes. Special attention is paid to Biblical prophecy, and

the end of the world is thought to be near. It was not difficult to

convert the reverent little community on Pitcairn to views for which it

was claimed that they were the plain teaching of the Bible, and various

persons were shortly baptised in the sea.

The group who awaited us were headed by our most kind hosts, the

missionary and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Adams, who were of Australian

birth.[84] Sunday school was just over and service about to begin. It

was held in an airy building filled with a large congregation. The

sermon was on prophecy as found in the books of Daniel and Revelation,

and fulfilled in the division of the Empire of Alexander the Great. It

was depressing to be told that the late war is only the beginning of

trouble.

We went back with Mr. and Mrs. Adams to luncheon, which was served at

2.30, and composed principally of oranges and bananas. It was a very

dainty if, to some of us who had breakfasted at 7 o’clock, a rather

unsubstantial repast. Our hosts were vegetarians and had only two meals

a day, but subsequently kind allowance was made for our less moderate

appetites. I was glad of a rest in the afternoon, but S., who attended a

second service, said it had been the most interesting part of the Sunday

observances; it was a less formal gathering, when personal religious

testimonies were given by both young and old. Later we were shown a

little settlement of huts in the higher part of the island, where once a

year the community retire for ten days and have a series of camp

meetings.

The teachings of the new religion are practically observed. The tithe

barn, at the time of our visit, held £100 worth of dedicated produce

which was awaiting shipment. It was the prettiest sight to see the

fruits of the earth, being brought into it, in the form of loads of

various tropical produce. The whole community abstains from alcohol and,

nominally at any rate, from tobacco, though one old gentleman was not

above making an arrangement for a private supply from the yacht. Tea and

coffee are thought to be undesirable stimulants, and even the export of

coffee was beginning to be discouraged. The place suffers admittedly

from the social laxity characteristic of Polynesia; but the evil is

being combated by its spiritual leaders, and is cognisable by law. The

whole atmosphere is extraordinary; the visitor feels as if suddenly

transported, amid the surroundings of a Pacific Island, to Puritan

England, or bygone Scotland. It is a Puritanism which is nevertheless

light-hearted and sunny, without hypocrisy or intolerance.

The general influence of the missionaries seemed very helpful to the

little community, and they also conducted a school for its younger

members. Most of the inhabitants can read, but the subject matter of

books is too far away for them to be of much interest, and the only

application, it was noticed, which was made to the yacht for literature,

was for picture papers of the war. We gave by request an hour’s talk on

the travels of the _Mana_, and it was listened to with apparent

understanding, or at any rate with politeness; the chief interest shown

was in the manner of life of the Easter Islanders, about which many

questions were asked.

The houses are substantially built of wood with good furniture. A

well-made chest of drawers was a birthday present to the missionary’s

wife from the young men of the island. There is a separate bedroom or

cubicle for nearly every inhabitant, and some houses have a room set

apart for meals. Hospitality was shown without stint, and we were

entertained during our stay to a series of attractive repasts in various

homes; our hosts bore such names as Christian, Young, and McCoy. Meat is

limited to goat or chicken, but there is a profusion of tropical

produce, and oranges are too numerous to gather. The coconut trees are

unfortunately dying. Each household has a share of the ground rising

behind the village, and the hillside is traversed by shady avenues of

palms and bananas, which afford at every turn glimpses of outstanding

cliffs and the brilliant blue of the ocean. The standard of life

compares very favourably with that of an English village, and is

immeasurably superior to that achieved on Easter Island under similar

circumstances.

Pitcairn has the dignity of being a democratic self-governing community,

with a Magistrate and two houses of legislature. The present

Constitution was suggested by the Captain of H.M.S. _Champion_ in 1892,

and superseded an earlier one. The Lower House, known as “the

Committee,” comprises a Chairman and two members, also an official

Secretary; it makes regulations which are submitted to the Upper House

or “Council.” The Council consists of the Chief Magistrate, with two

assessors and the Secretary, and it acts also as a court of justice. The

two committee members and a constable are nominated by the magistrate,

but the other officials are elected annually by all inhabitants over

eighteen years; Pitcairn was therefore the first portion of the British

Empire to possess female suffrage.

It was interesting to see the Government Records, though the present

book does not go back beyond above fifty years, earlier ones having

apparently disappeared. This contained the Laws of 1884 revised in 1904;

regulations for school attendance; a category of the chief magistrates;

a chronicle of visits from men-of-war and mention of Queen Victoria’s

presents, consisting of an organ in 1879 and newly minted Jubilee coins

received in 1889. There were also recorded the births, marriages, and

deaths of the island since 1864; and a description of the various brands

adopted by respective owners for their goats, chickens, and trees.

Among the legislative enactments was more than one concerned with the

preservation of cats, the object being to keep down rats. Thus the laws

of 1884 direct that:

“Any person or persons after this date, September 24th, 1884,

maliciously wounding or causing the death of a cat, without permission,

will be liable to such punishment as the Court will inflict.... Should

any dog, going out with his master, fall in with a cat, and chase him,

and no effort be made to save the cat, the dog must be killed; for the

first offence—fine 10s. Cats in any part of the island doing anyone

damage must be killed in the presence of a member of Parliament.”

Illicit medical practice is forbidden, and the regulation on this head

runs as follows:

“It may be lawful for parents to treat their own children in case of

sickness. But no one will understand that he is at liberty to treat, or

give any dose of medicine, unless it be one of his own family, without

first getting licence from the President. Drugs may not be landed

without permission.”

More recent laws enact, that each family may keep only six breeding

nannies; and that coconuts may only be gathered under supervision of the

Committee or in company with their owners of the same patch, in case of

want, however, they may be plucked for drinking. Persons killing fowls

must present the legs (_i.e._ the lower portion which bears the brand)

to a member of the Government.

With the entries of deaths are recorded their known, or presumed, cause;

those occasioned by accident are somewhat numerous, and include fatal

results from climbing cliffs after birds, chasing goats, and falling

from trees. Wills can be made by simply writing them in the official

book, but entries under this head were not numerous.

The island is in the jurisdiction of the British Consul at Tahiti, but

the Magistrate explained sadly that it was then two years since it had

been possible for his superior to send any instructions. In very serious

matters, such as murder or divorce, reference is necessary to the High

Commissioner at Fiji, and five years may elapse before an answer is

received.

It is indeed comparatively simple to communicate from Pitcairn with the

outside world, particularly now that it lies near the route from Panama

to New Zealand. Warning of the approach of a vessel is given by the

church bell, and all hands rush forthwith to launch the boat and pull

out to the ship. It is reported that once the bell sounded whilst a

marriage was being celebrated, the crowded church emptied at once, and

the bride, bridegroom, and officiator were left alone. Sooner or later a

letter can thus be handed on board, but to obtain a reply is another

matter; no steamer will undertake to deliver passengers, goods, or mails

to the island. It does not pay to spend time over so small a matter, the

liner may pass in the night, or the weather at the time may render

communication with the shore impossible. During our visit notice was

given that a ship was approaching; the men, who were at the time engaged

in digging for the Expedition, threw down their tools and the boat

started for the vessel, only to founder among the breakers of Bounty

Bay. The place is too remote to be visited by the trading vessels which

visit the Gambier Islands, and as there is no anchorage, it is by no

means easy for the Islanders to keep any form of ship on their own

account. In normal times a British warship calls every alternate year,

but its visits were suspended during the war. Of the two islands,

Easter, which has at least definite bonds with a firm on the mainland,

is on the whole the easier of access.

The economic problem of Pitcairn lies in the difficulty of making it

self-supporting. Food and housing materials abound, but clothes, tools,

and similar articles must be obtained from elsewhere; while to secure in

return a market for its small exports is almost impossible. It is

sometimes said that as the result, the inhabitants have grown so

accustomed to be objects of interest and charity, that they have become

pauperised and expect everything to be given them freely by passing

ships. This was certainly not our experience. They made us a large

number of generous gifts, such as bundles of dried bananas and specimens

of their handiwork—hats, baskets, and dried leaves, cleverly embroidered

and painted. On the other hand they took with gratitude any articles

which were given by us, either as presents or in return for the things

we purchased. One request has been received since we left the island; it

was made with many apologies by the Chief Magistrate, and was for a

Bible of the Oxford Teachers’ Edition.

The position, however, is unsatisfactory, and it seems very desirable

that if possible more frequent communication should be established. In

any case it is to be hoped that now peace reigns, a warship may visit

the place at least once a year.

It is frequently suggested that the Pitcairners must have deteriorated

in physique by intermarriage; as far, however, as we were able to

observe, such is not the case. It has been remarked, indeed, that a

large number have lost their front teeth, but in this they are not

unique. Dr. Keith observes, in the report previously alluded to, that

many Pacific Islanders are extremely liable to disease and loss of

teeth. The effect of such disease is, he states, to be seen in every one

of the skulls from Easter regarded as belonging to a person of over

twenty-five years; “tooth trouble is even more prevalent in Easter

Island than in the slums of our great towns.”

We were asked to collect pedigrees on Pitcairn and make observations

from the point of view of the Mendelian theory; this would, however,

have been a very long and troublesome business, and we did not feel

assured that the results would be sufficiently exact to justify it.

While there has possibly been no fresh infusion of South Sea blood, the

islanders have constantly been in contact with white men. Between 1808

and 1856, three hundred and fifty vessels touched at Pitcairn, and on

various occasions shipwrecked mariners and others have taken up their

abode on the island, and intermixed with the population.

The Pitcairn Islanders have been described as the “Beggars of the

Pacific,” and, on the contrary, have also been depicted as saints in a

modern Eden. Needless to say they are neither the one nor the other, but

inheritors of some of the weaknesses and a surprising amount of the

strength of their mixed ancestry.

From the point of view of its main and scientific object, our visit had

satisfactory results. The island was uninhabited when the mutineers

arrived, but there were traces of past residents. The sites of three

“marae,” or native structures, among the undergrowth were pointed out.

They are said to have been preserved by the first Englishmen, but were

unfortunately destroyed comparatively recently and very little of them

is still preserved. The old people could remember when bones could be

seen lying about in their vicinity. The islanders most kindly offered to

dig out what still existed of these remains, and two days running the

whole population turned out for excavation. The most interesting of the

erections proved to be one situated on the cliff looking down on to

Bounty Bay; we were only able roughly to examine it on the morning of

our departure. It appeared to have been made of earth, not built of

stone, and by clearing away some of the scrub we were able to arrive at

the conclusion that it had been an embankment some 12 feet high, built

on the immediate edge of the vertical cliff, and had had two faces. The

face that was directed seawards was almost vertical, whilst the one

towards the land formed an inclined plane, that measured 37 feet between

its highest and its lowest points. It seemed clear that both sides had

been paved with marine boulders. In general character it resembled to

some extent one of the semi-pyramid ahu of Easter, but dense vegetation

and tree growth rendered it impossible to speak definitely, and the form

may have been determined by the shape of the cliff. It was remembered

that three statues had stood on it, and that one in particular had been

thrown down on to the beach beneath. The headless trunk of this image is

preserved; it is 31 inches in height, and the form has a certain

resemblance to that of Easter Island, but the workmanship is much

cruder. There is said to have been also a statue on a marae on the other

side of the island.

There are interesting rock carvings in two places, both of which are

somewhat difficult to reach. S. managed however to photograph one set,

and a dear old man undertook the scramble to the other site, which was

practically inaccessible to booted feet, and made drawings of them for

the Expedition.

Then we had a great whip-up for any stone implements which might have

been found; Miss Beatrice Young most kindly assisted and induced the

owners to bring out their possessions. Over eighty were produced. The

Islanders were much pleased to think that their contribution would be

numbered among the treasures of the British Museum, but the argument

that “a hundred years hence they would still be there” left them cold;

for, as they explained, “the end of the world would have come before

then.”

We spent in all four nights on the island, which forms, we believe, a

record sojourn for visitors; it is a very happy memory. A large portion

of the population asked for passages to Tahiti, but the hearts of most

failed before the end, and we on our part drew the line at taking more

than two men, who would work their passage. Those who finally came with

us were brothers, Charles and Edwin Young, descendants of Midshipman

Young. They arrived on board with their hats wreathed with flowers—true

Polynesian fashion—accompanied by many friends and relatives. Charles

had been on one of the island trading vessels, but Edwin had never

before left his home (fig. 132).

From Pitcairn we made for Rapa, known as Rapa-iti or Little Rapa, to

distinguish it from Rapa-nui or Great Rapa; which, as has been seen, is

one of the names for Easter. It is a French possession and only visited

by a vessel occasionally. It is seven hundred miles from Pitcairn, and

was somewhat out of our route for Tahiti, but the Sailing Directions

reported a number of prehistoric buildings, which they termed “forts.”

We were anxious to inspect them and see what relation, if any, they bore

to buildings on Easter Island; but disappointment, alas! awaited us. The

side of the island on which is the settlement was at the time of our

visit the windward aspect; there was a strong breeze and quite a heavy

sea. We remained abreast the village for some hours awaiting the pilot,

who is said to come off to visiting vessels, but no one appeared, nor

was any signal made on the shore. Either they were afraid of us, or did

not like the look of the weather. It was not one of the islands we had

originally intended visiting, and we had no chart.

We had to sail the ship the whole time in order to keep our station, and

eventually our forestay gave out; this meant putting her instantly

before the wind, or we should have been dismasted. We therefore ran

under the lee of the land and made good our damage. It would have taken

a long time to thrash back to our original station, so we reluctantly

gave up the attempt to make a landing. The coast is extremely fine,

bold, and precipitous, but that, and the illustration given, is all that

we can tell of Rapa.

[Illustration:

FIG. 129.—THE ISLAND OF RAPA.

]

CHAPTER XXI

TAHITI, HAWAIIAN ISLANDS, SAN FRANCISCO

Tahiti—Voyage to Hawaiian Islands—Oahu, with its capital Honolulu—Visit

to Island of Hawaii—San Francisco—The Author returns to England.

TAHITI

Wallis is the first European known certainly to have seen Tahiti. He

visited it in 1767, and was followed two years later by Cook. The

predominant chiefs on the island at this time were Amo and his wife

Purea, of the district of Paparo on the south coast. They are chiefly

notorious as the founders of the great marae—or “temple”—of Mahaiatea,

which they built in honour of their infant son, Teriiere. This work

must have been in progress when Wallis anchored on the other side of

the island. The demands which they made on their fellow natives in

order to secure its erection were so extortionate that a rising took

place against them; and by the time Cook made his first appearance

they were shorn of much of their glory. Subsequently various other

navigators visited the island. Cook anchored there a second time, and

H.M.S. Bounty made a prolonged sojourn. In 1797 thirty missionaries

arrived, sent from England by the London Missionary Society.

By this time another native family was in the ascendant, whose

territory was on the north coast. They have become known as the

Pomare, a name crystallised by the missionaries, but which was in

reality only one of the minor appellations which had been adopted,

native fashion, by the chief of the day. Pomare II. was baptised in

1819.

About forty years later Roman Catholic missionaries arrived, and a

struggle for ascendancy took place between them and the London

Society. The Home Government refused to support the Protestants. Queen

Pomare IV., therefore, though she much preferred the English, was

compelled to apply for a French protectorate, which was established in

1843. On the death of the old Queen in 1877, the French recognised her

son, Pomare V., who had married his cousin Marau. The new Queen was

the daughter of a chiefess known as Arii Taimai, who had married an

English Jew named Salmon.[85] Miss Gordon Cumming, who visited the

island at the time, gives an interesting account of the procession

round the island to proclaim the new sovereigns, in which she herself

took part. In 1880 Pomare handed over his claims to the French

Government, by whom the island was then formally annexed.

We sighted Tahiti on the 16th of September, 1915, sailed along its coast

with interest, and anchored in the afternoon at Papeete on the north

shore. It was wonderful to return once more to the great world, even in

its modified form at Tahiti, and the Rip van Winkle sensation was most

curious. The Consul, Mr. H. A. Richards, was early on board with a kind

welcome, and sent us round the longed-for sacks containing a year’s

accumulation of letters and newspapers. The mail, however, brought bad

personal news, and though life had to go on as usual, recollections of

the island have suffered from every point of view.[86]

Tahiti, as seen from the sea, with its mass of broken mountains covered

with verdure, is undoubtedly very beautiful; and the sunset effects over

the neighbouring island of Moorea are particularly striking. The lagoon

too is fascinating, and refreshing expeditions were made in the motor

launch to study the wonders of its protecting coral reef. When on land,

however, the charm of the island is somewhat dissipated. The inhabited

strip round the coast, which varies from nothing up to some two miles in

width, is covered with bungalows and little native properties, and is so

full of coconuts and palms that all effect of the mountains is lost.

Though it was only the month of September at the time of our visit it

was very hot and airless, making all mental and physical exertion an

effort. I went one morning for a walk at 6.30 in the hope of better

things, but even then it felt as if Nature had forgotten to open her

windows. The wild charm of romance which greeted the early voyagers and

which must have assuaged the struggle of the first missionaries is now

no more. Papeete is civilised: it is a port for the mail steamers

between America and New Zealand. It is under French rule, but a large

proportion of business is in the hands of the British and also of the

Chinese.

We lived at the hotel, as _Mana_ had to go on the slip, and had an

interesting fellow-guest in an American geologist. He was travelling in

the Pacific with the object of proving that it had never been a

continent, but that the islands were sporadic volcanic upheavals from

the ocean bed. He had found himself involved in the everlasting quarrel

between geologists and biologists, who each want the world constructed

to prove their own theories. In this case a biologist wished for

continuity of land to account for the presence of the same snail in

islands far removed. Our friend had contended that the molluscs might

have travelled on drift-wood, but was told in reply that salt water did

not “suit their constitution.” He had then argued that they could easily

have gone with the food in native canoes. “Anyhow,” he concluded, with a

delightful Yankee drawl, “to have the floor of the ocean raised up

fifteen thousand feet, for his snails to crawl over, is just too much.”

S. was presented by the Consul to the French Governor, and I called,

according to instructions, to pay my respects to his wife, who proved to

be both young and charming. She was good enough subsequently to send an

invitation to a tea-party, which differed interestingly from similar

functions at home. It took place in a large room where twenty chairs,

covered with brocade, were arranged in a circle which was broken only by

a settee. On this sat the hostess, and by her side, either as the

greatest stranger, or as having taken the precaution to be an early

arrival, the Stewardess of the _Mana_. One by one the chairs filled up,

and each fresh arrival, after greeting her entertainer, went round and

shook hands with every one already there. The hostess retained her seat,

from which she conversed across to various points of the circle. No one

moved except that when a delightful tea came in, it was handed round by

the young girls; no servant appeared—they are almost impossible to get.

The Governor earned our particular gratitude by his kindness in sending

daily a copy of the war bulletin, which arrived by wireless from

Honolulu and New Zealand; though the installation was not at the time

sufficiently advanced to be capable of sending out messages.

The Germans were interned in the bay on what was known as Quarantine

Island, and were employed to do a certain amount of leisurely work on

the roads, at a comparatively high rate of pay; at the same time the

French subjects, native and half-caste, had been called up for much

harder military service and received the standard remuneration, which

was much lower. It was commonly reported that the latter had sent in a

petition humbly begging that they might be considered as German

prisoners.

[Illustration:

FIG. 13O.

OCÉANIE FRANÇAISE ANCIEN TAHITI

A TAHITIAN PICTURE POST-CARD,

Used as menu card at a luncheon given by the ex-Queen Marau.

1. Papeete, capital of Tahiti, with the Island of Moorea in the

distance. From a sketch by Miss Gordon Cumming. 2. Queen Pomare IV.

3. King Pomare V. 4. Titaua, sister of Queen Marau. 5. The harbour

of Papeete. 6. Himène (or chorus) singers: performance in honour of

Accession of Pomare V and Marau. From a sketch by Miss Gordon

Cumming, 1877. 7. Queen Marau, with autograph.

]

During our time on the island the anniversary occurred of the visit of

Von Spee’s fleet on their way to Easter Island, and the trees were

adorned with official notices proclaiming a public holiday in memory of

the French victory. What happened on that occasion is not precisely

clear, and each person gives a different account. It seems, however,

that as the cruisers _Scharnhorst_ and _Gneisenau_ appeared without any

proper announcement, the shore batteries fired across their bows to stop

them. The Germans replied, and some houses in the town were set on fire.

The French gun-boat _Zelée_ was sunk in the harbour, also a German ship

which had been taken as a prize. The custodian of the coal supply set it

on fire to prevent it from falling into the enemy’s hands; this action

was subsequently justified, as it transpired that the Germans had given

out that they were going to Papeete in order to obtain coal. After a

certain number of shots had passed in both directions, the enemy went on

their way.

We had particular pleasure in making the acquaintance of the late Queen,

widow of Pomare V., an able and cultured lady, who lives in a villa in

Papeete, and calls herself simply “Madame Marau Taaroa.” She was kind

enough to lend us a valuable book written by her mother, Arii Taimai,

which tells the history of the island as related by family traditions

and combines with this account the information given by the early

voyagers. Her charming daughter, Princess Takau Pomare, who had been

educated in Paris, placed us under a great obligation by constituting

herself our cicerone. She took us to see the monument on Venus Point,

erected to mark the spot where Cook observed the transit of Venus; and

also the Pomare mausoleum. Miss Gordon Cumming records that it was the

ancient habit at Tahiti for the dead to be placed in a house, watched

till only dust and ashes remained, and then buried securely in the

mountain to guard against possible desecration; this custom, she states,

still survived in her day in the case of departed royalty.

We had also a delightful motor drive with the Princess to some family

property on the south side of the island, lunching at a small hotel

which was nothing if not up-to-date, being dignified with the name of

the Tipperary Hotel. The proprietor, a Frenchman, advertised it by

stating that while it was a “long, long way to Tipperary,” it was only a

short way to his establishment. He had adorned the walls of the

dining-room with large frescoes of the flags of the Allies, leaving, as

he explained, “plenty of room for Holland, Greece, and America.”

The marae of Tahiti have vanished, but on the way back we stopped to see

all that remains of a once famous pile. Nothing now exists but a mass of

overgrown coral stones, converted into a lime kiln. Fortunately Cook and

his companion Banks both visited Mahaiatea in its glory and have left us

descriptions, and we have also a drawing of it. It is obvious that these

structures in no way resembled the ahu of Easter Island. Mahaiatea was a

pyramid of oblong form with a base 267 ft. by 71 ft.; it was composed of

squared coral stones and blue pebbles, and consisted of eleven steps

each some 4 ft. in height. It impressed Banks as “a most enormous pile,

its size and workmanship almost surpassing belief.”[87] The pyramid

formed one side of a court or square, the whole being walled in and

paved with flat stones.

Marae, as Arii Taimai explains, were sacred to some god; but the god was

only a secondary affair; a man’s whole social position depended on his

having a stone to sit on within his marae enclosure. Cook was asked for

the name of his marae, as it was not supposed possible that a chief

could be without one, and took refuge in giving the name of his London

parish, Stepney.

Princess Takau kindly acted as interpreter when we went to look up the

Easter Islanders who came here to work on the Brander plantation and who

still form a little colony. One of our main objects in visiting Tahiti

had been to inspect the tablets and Easter Island collection of Bishop

Jaussen who died in 1892. In this we met with disappointment; the

present authorities, whom we saw more than once, took no interest at all

in the subject, and said that on Bishop Jaussen’s death, the Brothers

had sent the articles home as curios to their friends in Europe. They

gave us an address in Louvain, which it has not of course up to the

present been possible to follow up.

[Illustration:

FIG. 131.

MARAE MAHAIATEA TAHITI.

(From _A Missionary Voyage in the Ship Duff, 1796–98._)

]

[Illustration:

FIG. 132.

CHARLES AND EDWIN YOUNG.

The great-great-grandsons of Midshipman Young, the only commissione

officer among the mutineers of the _Bounty_ who took refuge on

Pitcairn Island, 1790.

]

Our crew underwent some alterations at Tahiti. The post of engineer had

been filled by a Chilean, and one deck hand had already gone home as a

reservist; two more now desired to return direct to “serve their

country,” one of these was my friend Bailey, the cook. As he had had no

opportunity of spending his wages, he was, on being paid off, quite a

millionaire. He invested in a number of white washing suits and took up

his residence at our hotel. I was presented with his photograph clad in

the new raiment. An officer travelling to England from New Zealand was

kind enough to undertake to give him some care on the journey, and

managed to get him safely home, though most of his fortune had

disappeared _en route_. He took service as a ship’s cook, and we saw his

name subsequently, with most sincere regret, in a list of “missing.”

Bailey’s place was taken by an American, who had formed part of the crew

which had been discharged from a ship which they had brought to Tahiti

from California. He declined to come on board till just before we

sailed, as he was engaged for a prize-fight with a noted coloured

champion; the prospective fight excited a good deal of local interest,

but ended lamentably in the white man being knocked out at the first

blow. As we were still short-handed, we arranged with our two Pitcairn

Islanders to come on with us to England; Charles Young was signed on as

deck hand, and Edwin, who was of less strong physique, as steward. They

both gave every satisfaction, and Edwin, though he had of course to be

taught his duties, was the best steward we ever had.

We had considerable conversation with our Consul, Mr. Richards, on the

subject of Pitcairn, in which he has always taken great interest, doing

all that he could for the Islanders. He had been anxious if possible to

make a stay there of some duration, feeling, no doubt rightly, that the

only way to solve its difficulties was for someone to dwell there long

enough to see the situation, not as a visitor, but as a resident.

Circumstances had not, so far, rendered this feasible, but it is to be

hoped it may still be accomplished.

It was impossible to make a direct passage from Tahiti to Panama, as the

Trade Wind would have been dead against us, we had, therefore, to turn

its flank by going as far north as the Sandwich Group, or, to give them

their American name, the Hawaiian Islands. We passed within sight of one

or two of the Paumotu group, which was our first introduction to coral

atolls; but I do not think we saw a ship during the whole voyage.

It was a long run, as we met with calms in the Doldrums, and were

without the use of the motor, which stood in need of some simple

repairs, that could not be done in Tahiti. Being becalmed is certainly

unpleasant, there is no air, everything hangs loose, rattles and bangs,

and cheerful calculations are made as to how much damage per hour is

being done to the gear; but on the whole the patience of seamen is

marvellous. Occupation happily was provided in the stupendous quantity

of arrears of newspapers. We read them most diligently, but it is hardly

fair to journalists to deal with their output a year after it is

written, the mistakes and false prophecies of even the most sober papers

become painfully obvious. We became acquainted, for example, at one and

the same time with the birth and death of the “Russian steam-roller”

theory, and other similar figments. My diary is diversified by such

items of domestic interest as “showed Edwin how to look after the

brass.” “S. taught Edwin to clean silver.”

HAWAIIAN ISLANDS

The group is composed of eight inhabited islands which stretch in a

line from north-west to south-east. Hawaii, the most southerly, is the

largest, and now gives its name to the whole, but the principal modern

town, Honolulu, is on the more northerly island of Oahu. The islands

were known to the early Spanish voyagers, but their connection with

the civilised world really dates from their rediscovery by Cook. He

called them after Lord Sandwich, who was at that time First Lord of

the Admiralty. The great navigator was murdered on Hawaii in 1779.

Vancouver touched there more than once, and obtained the consent of

the natives to a British Protectorate, which he proclaimed on Hawaii

in 1794; the action was however ignored by the Home Government.

At this time a powerful chief of Hawaii, Kaméhaméha I, rose to

pre-eminence. He captured the island of Oahu in 1795, and consolidated

the group under one government. Contact with the outside world

gradually undermined the native beliefs and the old ceremonial taboos

became wearisome. After the death of Kamehameha they were overthrown

by his son, in 1819, though not without armed resistance from the more

orthodox section. The islands were for a short time “a nation without

a religion”; but Christianity was introduced almost immediately by

American missionaries.

The group was nominally independent till the time of Queen

Liliuokalani, who succeeded in 1891. Her rule roused much resentment

among the foreign residents, and during a period of unsettlement she

was imprisoned in her palace for nine months. An appeal was made to

the United States, and the islands were formally annexed by that power

in 1898.

_Oahu._—After a five-weeks’ voyage, which included an abortive attempt

to call at the island of Hawaii, we reached Honolulu, in the island of

Oahu, on November 11th, 1915.

From the isolation of Easter we had come to the comparatively busy life

of Tahiti, and now at Honolulu we felt once more in touch with the great

world. It is a cheerful and up-to-date city in beautiful surroundings.

Seen from the harbour it is not unlike Papeete, but the town is bigger,

and the mountains more distant. The roads of the suburbs are frequently

bordered by large areas of mown grass, which form part of the gardens of

the adjacent villas. It is considered a duty to erect no wall or paling,

and the custom, while it deprives the residences of privacy, greatly

enhances the charm of the highway. The practice is encouraged by a

public-spirited society, interested in the beauty of the place. The

aquarium contains fish of most gorgeous colouring, and it is well worth

while to explore a coral reef on the eastern shore in a glass-bottomed

boat.

In addition to the original population, the place swarms with Japanese,

and the Americans seem little more than a ruling caste. The natives are

reported to be entirely sophisticated, and quite competent to invent

folk-tales or anything else to order. The Bishop Museum has an

interesting collection of relics and models of the old civilisation, and

we are much indebted to the Director, Dr. Brigham, for his kindness in

exhibiting them to us. The principal treasures are the wonderful feather

cloaks and helmets of the old chiefs. Fifty men were employed for a

hundred years in collecting the yellow feathers from which one cloak is

made. The birds, which produce only a few feathers each of the desired

colour, were caught on branches smeared with gum.

There is also in the museum an excellent model of one “heiau,” or

temple; it is shown as a rectangular enclosure containing various sacred

erections. This form of heiau has no resemblance either to the marae of

Tahiti or the ahu of Easter Island; and the art of building never seems

to have approached the excellence reached in the latter. Mr. Gordon, the

British Consul, gave us much pleasure by taking us in his motor,

accompanied by Dr. Brigham, to see the remains of one of these temples

on the eastern side of the island. Little now exists save a rough

enclosing wall. It is a matter of surprise that, under so enlightened a

government as the American, more pains are not taken to preserve the

archæological monuments throughout the islands, which are fast

disappearing. Much care is bestowed on attracting visitors, and it would

have seemed, even from the financial point of view, that the protection

of these objects of interest would have been eminently worth while.

We also visited the famous Pali, the site of a great battle at the time

of the conquest of the island by Kaméhaméha, chief of Hawaii. A range of

mountains runs along the eastern side of the island. The visitor,

approaching from the west, rises gradually till he reaches the summit,

and is then confronted by a sheer drop of many hundreds of feet down to

the coast below.

The cliff extends for many miles, and the views over land and sea are

most striking. During the invasion, the Hawaiian army pursued the

natives up the slope, and drove them headlong over the Pali, or

precipice. Kaméhaméha is the national hero; when a statue was erected in

Honolulu, to commemorate the centenary of the discovery of the island by

Cook, it was dedicated, not to the navigator, but to the Hawaiian chief.

We were accorded an interview with the ex-queen Liliuokalani. It was a

distinctly formal occasion. We were shown into a waiting-room till some

previous arrivals had finished their audience, and were then

ceremoniously introduced to royalty. The room was furnished after

European fashion, but was adorned with feather ornaments. The old lady,

who had a tattoo mark on her cheek, sat with quiet dignity in an

arm-chair. She was obviously frail, and though she spoke occasionally in

good English, her secretary did most of the conversation. She told us

that her brother had caused certain native legends and songs to be

written down, and she herself, during her imprisonment in 1895, had

translated into English an Hawaiian account of the creation of the

world. The secretary presented us with a copy of this book. We did not

gather that either of them had ever heard of Easter Island. After a

short time we took our leave, curtseying again and backing out as we had

seen done by our predecessors. It may be remembered that Liliuokalani

visited England at the time of Queen Victoria’s Jubilee. Since our

return we have seen the announcement of her death; so closes the list of

the Hawaiian sovereigns.

Being in harbour brought the not unknown domestic excitements. The

pugilistic American cook, who had been quite satisfactory on the voyage,

proved to be one of those who cannot be in port without going “on the

bust.” He was rescued once, but he shortly afterwards asked for shore

leave at 10 o’clock in the morning. This was naturally declined; he then

said he wanted to have a tooth out. S. assured him he was quite capable

of officiating. Finding he could get neither leave, money, nor a boat,

he sprang overboard, and swam ashore in his clothes. His place was taken

by a Japanese cook from Honolulu.

_Hawaii._—When the repairs to the engine had been accomplished, we sent

the yacht ahead to San Francisco, and ourselves made a trip by steamer

from the island of Oahu to that of Hawaii. Between the two lies the

island of Molokai, on which is the leper settlement, connected with

Father Damien’s heroic work and death. We did not see the settlement

itself, but from its photographs it seems an attractive collection of

small houses, in the midst of wonderfully beautiful scenery.

The principal sight on Hawaii is the active crater of Kilauea. Instead

of the long ride described by Lady Brassey, visitors, landing at the

port of Hilo, are now conveyed in motors to a comfortable hotel, on the

edge of the crater. We made a detour on the way to see a genuine native

settlement, where the standard of living proved to be much the same as

on Easter. The crater itself is a subsidiary one on the side of the

great mountain, Mauna Loa; it is 4,000 feet above sea-level, and has a

circuit of nearly eight miles. The greater part of the crater is

extinct, and its hardened lava can easily be walked over, but one

portion is still active, and forms a boiling lake about a thousand feet

across. No photograph gives any idea of the impressiveness of the scene,

particularly after dark. The floor of the pit is paved with dark but

iridescent lava, across which run irregular and ever-varying cracks of

glowing gold. First one of these cracks, and then another, bubbles out

into a roaring fire, the heat melts the adjacent lava, causing great

dark masses to break off and slip into the furnace, where they are

devoured by the flames. It is a fascinating spectacle which could be

watched for hours. The floor of the pit rises and sinks; when we were

there it was some hundreds of feet below the spectator.

Kilauea was considered in olden times to be the special abode of Pele,

the goddess of fire; but after the advent of the missionaries, her power

was formally defied by Kapiolani, the daughter of a chief who ate the

berries consecrated to the deity on the brink of the pit. More than

fifty years later, however, in 1880, there was so great an eruption of

lava on the other side of Mauna Loa that native royalty had to beseech

Pele to stifle her anger and save the people; a prayer which was, it is

said, immediately effective.

We decided not to return to Hilo, but to see something more of the

island, and catch the steamer at Kawaihae on the western side. We left

the hotel at 8 a.m. and motored over a hundred miles, first passing

through grass lands and cattle ranches, and then through sugar

plantations. The way was diversified by extraordinary flows of lava,

through which the road had been cleared: they extended for miles like a

great sea; one of the streams was as recent as 1907. The last stage of

the drive was through forest growth and coffee plantations. We spent the

night at a small hotel, kept by a lady. An interesting fellow-guest was

a government entymologist, who was combating a parasite which was

injuring the coffee; to this end he had introduced an enemy beast of the

same nature brought from Nigeria, which was successfully devouring its

natural foe.

Below the hotel was the Bay of Kealekakua, which was the scene of the

last great drama in the life of Cook. On its shore are the remains of

the building where he was treated as the incarnation of the god Loro. It

is now only a mass of stones, but is said to have been a truncated

pyramid, which is an old form of heiau. On the top of this temple Cook

was robed in red tapa, offered a hog, and otherwise worshipped. The

conduct of the white men, however, was such that they soon lost the

respect of the natives. An affray occurred over the stealing of one of

the ship’s boats, and Cook was stabbed in the back by one of the iron

daggers which he had himself given in barter. An obelisk has been

erected to his memory.

[Illustration:

FIG. 133.

HEIAU PUUKOHOLA, HAWAII.

]

On the opposite side of the bay is a “puuhonua,” or place of refuge, by

name Honaunau. It corresponded with the cities of refuge in the Old

Testament. “Hither,” says Ellis, “the man-slayer, the man who had broken

a tabu, ... the thief and even the murderer, fled from his incensed

pursuer and was secure.”[88] It covered seven acres, and was enclosed on

the landward side by a massive wall 12 ft. high and 15 ft. thick.

In the afternoon we motored on to Waimea by a _cornice_ road, which was

bumpy beyond description. The hotel consisted of a few rooms behind the

principal store. The next morning, on the way to the steamer, we

inspected two heiau, a small one at the foot of a hill, and a large and

striking one on its summit known as Puukohola. Tradition says that the

hero Kaméhaméha set out to rebuild the former in order to secure success

in war, but was told that, if he wished to be victorious, he must erect

a temple instead on the higher altitude.

The temple, which adapts itself to the ground, rises on the seaward side

by a series of great terraces and culminates on the summit in a levelled

area paved with stones. On the landward side the building is enclosed by

a great wall, on which stood innumerable wooden idols. It was entered by

a narrow passage between high walls. On the area at the top were various

sacred buildings, including a wicker tower, out of which the priest

spoke, an altar, and certain houses, in one of which the king resided

during periods of taboo. Whilst the temple was being built, even the

great chiefs assisted in carrying stones, and the day it was completed

(1791 _c._) eleven men were sacrificed on the altar.[89] It is one of

the latest, as it is one of the finest of the heiau. From the walls are

magnificent views of the two great mountains of Hawaii, Mauna Kea and

Mauna Loa, both over 13,000 ft.

It was interesting to recognise in the Hawaiian language not a few words

similar to those which we had learnt on Easter Island. In Polynesian the

letters K and T are practically interchangeable. Thus Mauna Kea, meaning

Mount White, from its usual covering of snow, is equivalent to Maunga

Tea-tea, the hill of white ash in Easter. The same is true of the

letters L and R. Mauna Loa is Mount Long just as Hanga Roa is Bay Long.

The identification of these last letters is not confined to Polynesia.

We made one of the Akikuyu in East Africa repeat the same word over and

over again, to see if it had the sound of L or R; he used first one and

then the other without any discrimination. The names in Hawaii are said

to exist in their present form simply according to the manner in which

they have been crystallised in writing.

We duly caught our steamer to Honolulu, and changed there into the boat

for San Francisco.

CALIFORNIA

Cortez, Governor of Mexico, was under the impression that America was

in close proximity to Asia. Hearing of the success of Magellan in

discovering a southern route to the westward, he sent an expedition to

the north, with the object of finding a road to India in that

direction. The members of this party, which was commanded by Cabrillo,

were the first Europeans to discover California (1542). The native

Indian population at that time is supposed to have been about seven

hundred thousand in number.

For over two hundred years Spain took but little interest in the new

country; but in 1769 she began to be alarmed lest the Russians should

descend on it from the north, and its occupation was ordered from

Mexico. In this movement, not only was the secular power represented,

but Catholic missions played an important part. The Franciscan order

was first in the field; and the mission station, which gave its name

to the Bay of San Francisco, was dedicated in 1776. Later the

Dominican order also founded religious establishments. These

institutions were finally secularised in 1836, but Californians justly

regard the remains as the most romantic as well as historic objects in

the country.

A wave of immigrants from the United States began to arrive about

1841; war broke out with the parent country of Mexico in 1846; and in

1848 California was formally transferred to the States. The same year,

1848, the first discovery of gold caused an enormous inrush of

population. The journey was no easy one; for twenty years the would-be

immigrant from the east had to choose between the dangerous expedition

overland, the unhealthy condition of the Panama route, or a voyage

round the Horn. The Pacific railway was at last completed in 1869.

The most dramatic event of recent years has been the earthquake of

1906, which was followed by a great fire, when for three days the city

was a mass of flames.

We arrived at San Francisco on December 14th, 1915. The bay recalls in

some degree that of Rio de Janeiro, the ocean has in the same way

penetrated through a narrow channel into a low district surrounded by

mountains and formed it into an inland sea. There, however, the

resemblance stops. The Bay of San Francisco runs, for its major portion,

parallel to the sea, and thus forms a peninsula on either side of the

entrance, the well-known Golden Gate. The tract on the southern side is

sufficiently level to allow of the site of a town. The main frontage of

the city is on the bay, but it extends to the seaward side. The

population has also spread across the bay, and the suburbs have attained

to the magnitude of towns. The large ferry boats which ply across the

water are marked features of San Francisco life.

There was nothing in the present fine city to recall the fact that ten

years before it had been laid low by the great fire, but any building

dating back more than a score of years is treated with respectful

interest. A professional guide, who escorts tourists in a motor

char-à-bancs, solemnly stated that such and such houses were “in the

style of thirty-five years ago,” or that a church was “one hundred years

old, but still used for service.”

It is not, however, in such matters that the youth of California most

strikes a visitor from an older country. Its inhabitants appear to him

to resemble children who have discovered a new playground, and who are

busily occupied in seeing what each can find there. They seem, with

notable exceptions, to have little time to spare for those deeper

studies and questionings which form part of life in lands where the

earlier stage has long been passed. There are, no doubt, in the gay

crowd many profound thinkers, numbers with unsatisfied longings and

broken hearts, but they are not obvious in the general cheerful

absorption as to how much everything costs and everybody is worth. The

stranger also, however much theoretically prepared, experiences a shock

in finding how little a population formed from manifold races has as yet

amalgamated; the owner of a shop, for instance, may not be able to speak

even intelligibly the language of the country of his adoption.

Depressing accounts were given of the type of man who thought it worth

while to take up political life, and the consequent short-sightedness of

some of the legislative measures. We were frankly told that we were much

better off with our British monarchy, and once an American-born citizen

was even heard to regret the War of Independence.

With regard to the Great War we were told that at that time ninety-five

per cent. of the population of San Francisco were pro-Ally, though a few

professors still looked to Germany as the home of culture. Conversation

on the subject was definitely discouraged, and one man, who spoke to us

for a few minutes concerning the struggle, ended by saying, “I have not

talked so much about the war for months.” It was naturally impossible to

appreciate at so great a distance the feeling which pervaded Europe. A

high authority, whom we consulted as to where we could see some Indian

life, recommended us to go to a certain German mission and “ask for

hospitality from the Fathers”; that we should prefer not to do so he

obviously thought most narrow-minded. Affairs in Mexico where some

Americans had just been killed by the insurgents were much more

interesting. Even Japan and Australia appeared more closely connected

with every-day life, and not only seemed nearer than Europe, but than

the Eastern States themselves. So was brought home the truth of the

saying that “oceans unite, not divide”; also that the Pacific and its

seaboard are really an entity, however much the atlas may prefer to give

a contrary impression. Later it was impossible to think without deep

sympathy of this young community plunged whole-heartedly with all its

fresh ardour and keen intelligence into the solemn crucible of war.

We received welcome help and hospitality from Mr. Ross, our

Consul-General, Mr. Barneson, the Commodore of the leading yacht club,

and other kind friends. Mr. Adamson, of Messrs. Balfour & Guthrie, a

firm allied to our Chilean friends Williamson & Balfour, came

opportunely to our assistance when the censor felt that a cabled draft

from England was too dangerous a document to pass without many days of

consideration.

We were naturally much interested in making the acquaintance of our

anthropological confrères of the University of California, Dr. Waterman

and Mr. Gifford, and in hearing of their important work among the

surviving Indians. A luncheon party at the University buildings at

Berkeley, one of the suburbs on the other side of the bay, was both

pleasant and enlarging to the mind. It is a mixed university, with some

five or six thousand students; situated in beautiful surroundings and

with an enviable library. One of the guests at luncheon was a German

professor, who was at work in New Guinea when the war broke out; the

account runs that the British troops, hearing there was an expedition in

the mountains, went there expecting to encounter an armed force. He was

detained in California, unable to get home.

[Illustration:

FIG. 134.

SAN FRANCISCO,

From Mount Tamalpais, looking across the Golden Gate.

]

Christmas, the third since we left England, we spent in an hotel on the

top of Mount Tamalpais, which is on the other side of the Golden Gate,

and directly opposite to San Francisco. It is reached by a mountain

railway, and gives most beautiful panoramic views of ocean, city, and

bay. The management have hit on the ingenious plan of pointing out

special sights, by placing tubes on the walks round the mountain, at the

level of the eye, oriented on particular places and labelled

accordingly. At night the scene is marvellous; the city appears as a

blaze of illumination, and lights in every direction are reflected in

the still water of the Bay. While on Mount Tamalpais we received a

telephone message to say that _Mana_ was coming through the Gate. She

had taken two days less to do the distance from Honolulu than a

four-masted barque which left about the same time. We could not get down

before her arrival, so left Mr. Gillam to grapple with the usual

officials; and not least with the reporters, seventeen of whom, he

declared, came on board.

We had had our share of the representatives of the press, but any

temptation to self-complacency would have been quenched by the knowledge

that real success in newspaper paragraphs had already been achieved by

the American cook who left in so summary a fashion at Honolulu. He had

turned up from Hawaii and given out that he had been obliged to quit the

yacht because he “could not stand a spook ship with skulls on board.”

Except by one Christian Science reporter, scientific research was

considered dull, but this aspect of our work gave a hope of copy; and we

received a request, from more than one agency, that we would pose for

moving pictures on the deck of the yacht exhibiting the said skulls to

one another.

The Pitcairn Islanders almost rivalled the cook as objects of popular

interest; as the men had nothing to gain from notoriety, we fixed a

modest sum to be given them by each reporter whom they saw; as might

perhaps have been foreseen, an interview then appeared without any such

unnecessary preliminary as a previous conversation. Charles and Edwin

told us that the life of a great city surpassed even their expectations,

but it must be confessed that their most enthusiastic admiration was

aroused by Charlie Chaplin as he appeared at the picture palaces.

The Exhibition was just over, and _Mana_ was moored alongside the now

deserted buildings, which even in their then condition were well worth

seeing. We had understood that there would be no difficulty about our

new cook, as he was not Chinese, and came from an American dependency,

but he was forbidden by the authorities to go on shore. This ruling we

had, of course, no means of enforcing; and we found also that we were

liable to a fine of over £100 if we could not produce him when we

sailed. It was not encouraging to be told that there were plenty of

people who would entice him away for a share in the fine, and it was a

relief when _Mana_ at length sailed having all her crew safely on board.

It had been arranged that I was to return home overland, in order to

avoid the long hot voyage on the yacht, and to put in hand preliminary

arrangements there. I left on January 16th, taking the more southerly

route across the continent. A night was spent at Santa Barbara, to see

the mission buildings which are in the hands of one of the two remaining

San Franciscan communities. The Brother who acted as guide, and who was

of Hungarian Polish descent, said that it had been instrumental in

converting between 4,000 and 5,000 Indians. From Santa Barbara the route

runs to Los Angeles, which forms a winter resort for various Central

American millionaires. A detour was made to the Grand Canyon, which is

perhaps more impressive than beautiful, and so to Washington. A happy

time was spent in seeing the city, and being shown over the National

Museum by Dr. Walter Hough. The objects brought from Easter by the

_Mohican_ naturally proved of the greatest interest. At New York the

beautiful Natural History Museum excited admiration, and gratitude is

owed for the kindness of Dr. Lowie. At that time we were considering the

question whether, owing to war conditions, to lay up or sell _Mana_ in

New York. Nothing could have been kinder than the assistance given in my

search for information by more friends than I can mention. It was

finally, as will be seen, decided to bring her home. The crossing of the

Atlantic in an American vessel was uneventful, and on Sunday, February

6th, 1916, I found myself, with an indescribable thrill, at home once

more in the strange new England of time of war; which was yet the dear

familiar England for which her sons have found it worth while to fight

and if need be to die.

PART IV

_THE HOMEWARD VOYAGE_—Continued

_SAN FRANCISCO TO SOUTHAMPTON_

BY S. R.

CHAPTER XXII

SAN FRANCISCO TO PANAMA

Catching Turtle—The Island of Socorro and what we found there—The tale

of a Russian Finn—Quibo Island—Suffering of the Natives from

Elephantiasis—A Haul with the Seine.

On the 20th of January, 1916, we left the harbour of San Francisco, and

proceeded to get well clear of the land, as the glass told us to expect

a blow: and in due course it came—and plenty of it. We hove to for

twenty-four hours, with oil bags to wind’ard, for the seas were high and

untrue. The weather then moderated, so we let draw, and put her on her

course, and were soon in a more pleasant climate.

The Panama Canal had been closed to all traffic for many months past, in

consequence of land-slides. Of course _Mana_, drawing but 11 feet, and

only 72 feet on the water-line, would experience no difficulty in

passing, if the Administration would permit her to do so. But would it?

We had been unable to discover, through any source in San Francisco,

whether we should, or should not, be allowed to traverse the Canal. The

only course left open to us was to go to the Isthmus and see what could

be done on the spot: if we could not get through we must continue

onwards to the S’uth’ard, and go round the Horn. Mr. Gillam and the

Owner were quite keen on doing so. Mr. Gillam thought it was only fair

to the vessel “to give her a chance of showing what a good little ship

she was.” The crew, however, said they were quite satisfied on that

point, and after three years of it, sighed only for Britain, Beer, and

Beauty. So firmly were they convinced that our plucky Sailing-master

would take her round the Horn, just for the sake of doing so, should he

chance to come back alone without the Owner, that, when they signed on

again at Tahiti for the voyage home, it was subject to the proviso that

the outside passage round Cape Horn should not be taken without their

consent.

So, from the so-called Golden Gate of San Francisco town, to the real

Balboa gate of the Panama Canal, sailed we in the pious hope that

something would turn up in our favour, and believing that it would do

so, for _Mana_ is a “lucky ship.” And of course that “something” did:

but other events, not devoid of interest, intervene and demand recital.

At this point political conditions must be referred to for the due

understanding of our story. Absurd though it be, the fact remains that,

just as England meekly allows herself to be bamboozled, robbed,

insulted, and defied by one petty _sans-culotte_ province, so do the

United States submit to like treatment from Mexico: the same small δελτα

that represents mathematically the consideration in which an Irishman

holds the British Government, may be said equally to symbolise the

degree of respect in which the American Eagle is held by the patriots of

Mexico. Therefore, argued we, as the noble Mexican does not hesitate to

pluck the Eagle, whenever that fowl comes hopping on his ground, still

less will he refrain from depilating the Lion, should he want some fur

for fly-tying. No, we will give the coast of Mexico a good berth. A

vessel like the _Mana_ would, at the moment, have been an invaluable

capture for the “patriots,” whose acquaintance we had no wish to

cultivate. We thought of the many-oared row-boats of the Riff coast, and

how they could come at speed over the smooth windless sea and board us

on either quarter. Of course our motor would have been in our favour,

but, all the same, discretion was perhaps better than valour, as we were

unarmed. So we decided to keep 200 miles off the land in working down

the coast of Lower California and Mexico, though it would have been

better navigation, and more interesting, to have come close in.

The climate was now delightful: smooth water: gentle fair breezes. These

conditions enabled us to capture all the turtle, and more than all, we

wanted. They were asleep at the surface: the sea like glass, and heaving

rhythmically. The undulations of a sea like this are so long, and wide,

and gentle, that one somehow ceases to regard them as waves, and thinks

of the movement of the water immediately around the craft as being only

a local pulsation.

We had noticed, from time to time, isolated seagulls heaving into sight

on the top of the swell. Sometimes there would be as many as three or

four within calling distance from one another. Each seemed to stand on a

separate piece of drift-wood, never two on the same piece. Some seemed

occupied with affairs, swearing all the time, as seagulls always do;

some stood silently on one leg, “a-staring into wacancy” and thinking on

their past. Some preened and oiled their feathers. We could not

understand why there should be drift-wood, all small, and all over the

place like this, so bore down on a sleeping bird, when, to our great

surprise, we found that his resting-place was the back of one of

Nature’s U-boats—a turtle. Some may think then that all we had to do, if

we wanted a turtle, was to approach a resting bird, but not a bit of it.

If the bird, for reasons of his own, flew away from the back of the

turtle, the turtle remained as before, nor did he ever seem to draw the

line at the profanity with which his visitor argued some point with the

nearest neighbours, but let a boat approach, however gently and

innocently, and the gull decide to clear, because he did not like the

look of it—even as the bird did so, did Master Turtle down with his head

and up with his heels, and where he had been, he was not; without a

splash, or a swirl, or a bubble. If any fail to understand this

description, he should betake himself to Africa and stalk rhino in high

grass whilst they have their red-billed birds in attendance scrambling

all over the huge bodies hunting for ticks. Let but one bird spring up

suddenly in alarm from a rhino’s back, forthwith will occur proceedings

that shall not fail to leave a lasting impression on the observer.

When we wanted a turtle, however, we went to work in this way. The

little 12 ft. dinghy, having two thwarts and a sternseat, was lowered

from the starboard quarter and towed astern. A sharp look-out was kept

ahead, and to leu’ard, for a turtle asleep on the surface. On one being

sighted, the vessel was run off towards it. Simultaneously the dinghy

was hauled up alongside, and two of us, barefooted, dropped into her:

she was then passed astern again and towed. One man sat in the stern

sheets and steered with a paddle, having handy a strong gaff hook lashed

on the end of the staff of a six-foot boat-hook: the oarsman occupied

the for’ard thwart with his paddles shipped in the rowlocks. The leather

of the oars had been well greased previously, so as to make no sound.

The dinghy silently sped after the ship. On the vessel arriving within

some 50 yards of the turtle, an arm on the quarter-deck was waved: the

dinghy slipped her tow line, the ship’s helm was put up, and she

edged-off to leu’ard away from the fish, whilst the dinghy continued,

under the way she carried, on the line of the vessel’s former course,

and therefore straight towards the turtle. On the sitter catching sight

of the fish, if the boat was carrying sufficient way to bring him up to

it, he laid aside the steering oar, and at the right moment made a sign

to his mate, who then gently dipped one of his paddles in the water. The

boat in consequence made half a rotation, coming stern-on to the turtle,

instead of bows-on as previously. The oarsman then saw the fish for the

first time and commenced to back her down with gentle touches of his two

paddles right on to the top of the fish. Meanwhile the sitter slid off

the after seat, turned himself round so as to face the stern and knelt

on the bottom of the boat with his knees placed well under the after

seat, his chest resting on the transome, his arm outstretched over the

water, rigidly holding the gaff extended like a bumpkin, with the point

of the hook directed downwards towards the water, and about two inches

above its surface.

Now the old turtle is roosting on the water with the edges of his shell

just awash, his dome-shaped back rising just clear of it, and his head

hanging downwards in order that he may keep his brains cool. At the

opposite end to his head is his tail. This detail may seem unnecessary.

But it is not so. It is an essential point. When a turtle is surprised

he does not express it by throwing himself backward head uppermost on to

his tail, and show his white waistcoat, and wave his arms in

depreciation of the interview, but he downs with his head and ups with

his heels and the tip of his tail, if you are able to recognise it, is

the last you see of Master Turtle. And when he acts thus he shows much

decision of character: there is no hesitation: in a moment of time he is

absent. Hence, when you approach a turtle, you must first decide where

away lies his tail, and so place your craft that her keel, and the

turtle’s spine, shall lie in the same straight line. Then, as she is

backed stern foremost towards him, the staff of the gaff is brought, by

the movement of the boat, immediately above the length of his back. Now

for it! the fisherman suddenly thrusts the gaff from him till the point

of the hook is beyond the rim of the shell: raises his hand the least

trifle, so as to depress the hook slightly, then savagely snatches the

gaff backward, at the same time shortening his grasp on the shaft. The

turtle awakes from his dreams to find that he is in a position in which

he is helpless—standing on his tail, with his back against the boat’s

transome, and his fore flippers out of water. But he is not given time

to think. As his back touches the flat end of the boat, the fisherman

springs from his knees to his feet and, with one lusty heave, hoicks

Uncle up on to the edge of the transome and balances him there for the

moment. Down goes the stern of the little boat, well towards water level

under the combined weight of man and fish. Then the slightest further

pull, and into the bottom of the dinghy the turtle slides with a crash,

whilst the fisherman, whose only thought now is for the safety of his

toes, gracefully sinks down upon the middle thwart, takes hold of the

gunnel with either hand, and hangs one bare leg overboard to starboard,

and the other to port, until the turtle has decided in which part of the

boat he proposes permanently to place his head. Slowly he opens and

closes his bill, shaped like the forceps of a dentist, and slowly he

blinks his eyne, as much as to say, “Just put a foot in my neighbourhood

or even one big toe.” Turtles have no charity.

The turtle and the fisherman have engrossed one another’s attention so

far, but there are three other elements in the equation; they are (_a_)

the boat, (_b_) the boatman, and (_c_) the shark. Each of these requires

a word in passing. Now a 12 ft. dinghy, like any other of God’s

creatures, has feelings: these it expresses amongst other ways, when

treated unreasonably, by capsizing, and turtle catching it puts in the

neighbourhood of the limit. Not infrequently it happens that the long

black fin of a San Francisco pilot comes mouching around at a turtle

hunt, as if to incite the long-suffering dinghy to show temper. Hence it

is sometimes quite interesting to view, from the ship, the sympathetic

way in which the oarsman exerts himself to humour every whim of the

little boat, in order to induce it to maintain its centre of gravity

during the scrimmage. He quite seems to have the idea in his head that,

with the shark assisting at the ceremony, a capsize would be anything

but a joke for him. Anyhow, it is all right this time, so we make for

the vessel, now gently rising high on the top of the swell, anon slowly

sinking until only her vane is visible.

“Lee-Oh!” Round she comes. “Let the staysail bide!”

As she loses her way the dinghy shoots up towards her, a line comes

flying in straightening coils from the bows of the ship and falls, with

a whack, across the dinghy’s nose. The oarsman claps a turn with it

around the for’ard thwart, and quickly gets his weight out of her bows,

by shifting to the middle thwart, before the strain comes. At the same

time the fisherman nips aft, whilst keeping an eye on Master Turtle’s

jaws, squats on the after seat, picks up an oar and sheers her in

towards the ship. Then a strop falls into the sternsheets: the oarsman

slips it over a hind flipper, one of the dinghy’s falls is swayed to

him, he hooks it into the strop, and up runs Baba Turtle, to be swung

inboard the next moment into the arms of the Japanese cook, who receives

him with a Japanese smile as he bares his sniggery-snee.

We had now been more than a fortnight at sea. After a run of this length

we generally found it well to touch somewhere to refresh. The chart

showed ahead of us the Island of Socorro which we could fetch by edging

off a little. The Sailing Directions told us it was uninhabited, and

rarely visited: that there was no fresh water on it, but nevertheless

that sheep and goats were to be found, and that landing was possible.

The early morning of February the 5th showed its single lofty peak

standing out clearly above the lower mist, and in a line with our

bowsprit, whilst a light breeze on our quarter made us raise it fairly

fast. In the chart-room we pored over the only chart we had, a

small-scale one, using it for what it was worth to elucidate the Sailing

Directions. These indicated an anchorage and landing-place on its

south-western side: poor, but possible: and no outlying dangers. We

therefore decided to examine that coast, and see what we could find in

the way of anchorage and landing facilities. At the same time the

conversation turned on the apparent excellence of the place as a

gun-running depot for the Mexican Revolutionaries, and the exceeding

awkwardness of our position if we suddenly shoved our nose into any such

hornets’ nest. The pow-wow finished, up the ladder we tumbled on to the

quarter-deck, and turned to the island, and lo! round a point was

emerging a something—first appearing as a boat with bare masts—then as a

boat with sails—she has presumably come out under oars and is now

getting the canvas on her. She has seen us making for the island and is

clearing out! They are at the game, then, after all! Now she grows into

a vessel under canvas: now she fades away. No ship had we seen since

getting well clear of San Francisco. We could make nothing of her in the

haze and the mirage, for the air was all a-quiver with the heat. The

general opinion seemed to be that she was a small schooner sailing with

her arms akimbo, which, with the wind as we had it, was impossible.

Anyhow she was approaching us rapidly in the teeth of the

wind—goose-winged; but anything seems to our mariners possible “in these

’ere fur’rin parts.” But alas for Romance! Gradually she revealed

herself through the haze as a tramp steamer with a high deck cargo. Her

black hull and black-painted mast tops, as she opened the land and

partly showed her length, had made her the small boat with bare pole

masts: afterwards, when she shifted her helm and came towards us bows

on, she became the small schooner running before a fair wind off the

land—her light-coloured deck cargo, high built up, and white-painted

bridge formed the goose’s wings extended on either side of the black

masts, that rose above them, and stood out distinctly against the sky.

We kept our course. She passed us close to starboard. We ran up our

ensign and number and asked her to report us, but she took no notice.

Only one man was seen aboard her. We thought at the time she was from

the Canal, but afterwards learnt that nothing had come through it for

some months, also that a somewhat similar vessel had, in May last, lain

for a month off Socorro to ... admire the Scenery.

We closed with the land, at its western extremity, about 3 p.m., and

then slowly ranged along the south-western shore, examining it carefully

with the glasses for indications of a landing-place. The water was

smooth and crystal-clear, and the sun behind us, so that, comfortably

ensconced in the fore-top, we could see well ahead in the line of the

ship’s progress, and to a great depth. We were able therefore, without

risk, to hug the shore, and to examine it with precision. Everywhere was

the same low cliff: on its top, scrubby vegetation with a sheen like the

foliage of the olive—(sage-bush). Immediately below this a broad scarlet

band—(disintegrated lava)—then a greyish red, or black, cliff wall of

igneous rock—at its foot a snow white girdle of foam from the ocean

swell dashing against it.

So we progressed, until we reached what we decided must be Braithwaite

Bay, at the S.W. corner of the island. The Sailing Directions gave this

as the only anchorage. Mr. Gillam jumped into the dinghy and pulled in

to examine it, whilst we followed her in very slowly with the ship. A

couple of whales seemed to find the floor of the bay quite to their

taste as a dressing-room. The huge fellows quietly spouted and wallowed,

“a-cleaning of themselves,” and took no notice of us. The dinghy did not

like the look of things for either landing or anchorage, so held up an

oar. Thereupon we put the ship round, and went out on the same track as

that on which we had entered. Nightfall was now approaching. We picked

up the dinghy and stood off a bit, and then hove to.

Now, immediately before reaching Braithwaite Bay, we had noticed in the

coast-line, from the mast-head, an indentation or small inlet, across

which there was no line of breakers. Also we had observed a remarkable

white patch set deeply into the land apparently at the head of this

indentation. Of these points presently. During the night, whilst hove to

some distance off, the watch picked up a beautifully modelled painted

and weighted decoy duck, with the initials “H. T.” cut into it. This

wooden fowl, we concluded, had drifted down from San Francisco, for

there they are largely used in duck shooting. It had broken its

anchoring line, been swept through the Golden Gate, and then by the

prevailing winds and currents carried to the point where we had picked

it up. The find was interesting as showing that our navigation was

correctly based for current.

With the daylight we again stood in, this time towards the inlet, and

after an early breakfast, the cutter was swung out. A breaker of water,

a cooking-pot or two, a watertight box of food, another containing

ammunition, the photographic and botanical outfits, and a Mauser rifle

in its watertight bag, were put into her and, with five hands, we

started off.

As we approached the break in the cliffs we again met our two friends of

yesterday—the whales. They had shifted their ground and were now right

in the entrance to the cove, so we had to lay on our oars for quite a

while, until they gradually moved away. It was most interesting to watch

the great brutes comparatively close alongside, yet absolutely

indifferent to, or unaware of, the boat’s presence. Certainly we kept

quiet, and did not allow objects in the boat to rattle or roll. Sound

waves are transmitted through the water just as they are through the

air. Each of these fish would have been worth £1,000 at least at pre-war

prices. “Life is full of vain regrets.”

Our break in the cliff proved the entrance to a fissure in the land-mass

comparatively far extending. On either hand it had nearly vertical cliff

walls, and these again had steep ground above and behind them. It had a

regular, gradually rising bottom, deep water at the entrance, and at the

head a shelving beach of sand and small stones, yet steep-to enough to

allow the cutter to float with only her nose aground. Not a trace of

swell: an ideal boat harbour. As it had no name, and is to-day undefined

in the Admiralty plan of Braithwaite Bay (cf. inset on Chart No. 1936),

we christened it Cruising Club Cove—dropping the “Royal” for the gain of

alliteration.