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diff --git a/2512-0.txt b/2512-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d652131 --- /dev/null +++ b/2512-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7885 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Cruise of the Snark, by Jack London + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: The Cruise of the Snark + +Author: Jack London + +Release Date: March 26, 2000 [eBook #2512] +[Most recently updated: August 1, 2021] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: David Price + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRUISE OF THE SNARK *** + + + + +THE CRUISE OF THE +SNARK + + +BY +JACK LONDON + +AUTHOR OF “VALLEY OF THE MOON,” “JOHN BARLEYCORN” +“MUTINY OF THE ELSINORE,” ETC. + + +“Yes have heard the beat of the offshore wind, +And the thresh of the deep-sea rain; +You have heard the song—how long! how long! +Pull out on the trail again!” + + +MILLS & BOON, LIMITED +49 RUPERT STREET +LONDON, W.1 + + +_Copyright in the United States of America_ by The Macmillan Company + + +To +CHARMIAN +THE MATE OF THE “SNARK” +WHO TOOK THE WHEEL, NIGHT OR DAY, +WHEN ENTERING +OR LEAVING PORT OR RUNNING A PASSAGE, +WHO TOOK THE WHEEL IN EVERY EMERGENCY, AND +WHO WEPT +AFTER TWO YEARS OF SAILING, WHEN THE +VOYAGE WAS DISCONTINUED + +Contents + + CHAPTER I FOREWORD + CHAPTER II THE INCONCEIVABLE AND MONSTROUS + CHAPTER III ADVENTURE + CHAPTER IV FINDING ONE’S WAY ABOUT + CHAPTER V THE FIRST LANDFALL + CHAPTER VI A ROYAL SPORT + CHAPTER VII THE LEPERS OF MOLOKAI + CHAPTER VIII THE HOUSE OF THE SUN + CHAPTER IX A PACIFIC TRAVERSE + CHAPTER X TYPEE + CHAPTER XI THE NATURE MAN + CHAPTER XII THE HIGH SEAT OF ABUNDANCE + CHAPTER XIII THE STONE-FISHING OF BORA BORA + CHAPTER XIV THE AMATEUR NAVIGATOR + CHAPTER XV CRUISING IN THE SOLOMONS + CHAPTER XVI BÊCHE DE MER ENGLISH + CHAPTER XVII THE AMATEUR M.D. + BACKWORD + FOOTNOTES + + + + +CHAPTER I +FOREWORD + + +It began in the swimming pool at Glen Ellen. Between swims it was our +wont to come out and lie in the sand and let our skins breathe the warm +air and soak in the sunshine. Roscoe was a yachtsman. I had followed +the sea a bit. It was inevitable that we should talk about boats. We +talked about small boats, and the seaworthiness of small boats. We +instanced Captain Slocum and his three years’ voyage around the world +in the _Spray_. + +We asserted that we were not afraid to go around the world in a small +boat, say forty feet long. We asserted furthermore that we would like +to do it. We asserted finally that there was nothing in this world we’d +like better than a chance to do it. + +“Let us do it,” we said . . . in fun. + +Then I asked Charmian privily if she’d really care to do it, and she +said that it was too good to be true. + +The next time we breathed our skins in the sand by the swimming pool I +said to Roscoe, “Let us do it.” + +I was in earnest, and so was he, for he said: + +“When shall we start?” + +I had a house to build on the ranch, also an orchard, a vineyard, and +several hedges to plant, and a number of other things to do. We thought +we would start in four or five years. Then the lure of the adventure +began to grip us. Why not start at once? We’d never be younger, any of +us. Let the orchard, vineyard, and hedges be growing up while we were +away. When we came back, they would be ready for us, and we could live +in the barn while we built the house. + +So the trip was decided upon, and the building of the _Snark_ began. We +named her the _Snark_ because we could not think of any other name—this +information is given for the benefit of those who otherwise might think +there is something occult in the name. + +Our friends cannot understand why we make this voyage. They shudder, +and moan, and raise their hands. No amount of explanation can make them +comprehend that we are moving along the line of least resistance; that +it is easier for us to go down to the sea in a small ship than to +remain on dry land, just as it is easier for them to remain on dry land +than to go down to the sea in the small ship. This state of mind comes +of an undue prominence of the ego. They cannot get away from +themselves. They cannot come out of themselves long enough to see that +their line of least resistance is not necessarily everybody else’s line +of least resistance. They make of their own bundle of desires, likes, +and dislikes a yardstick wherewith to measure the desires, likes, and +dislikes of all creatures. This is unfair. I tell them so. But they +cannot get away from their own miserable egos long enough to hear me. +They think I am crazy. In return, I am sympathetic. It is a state of +mind familiar to me. We are all prone to think there is something wrong +with the mental processes of the man who disagrees with us. + +The ultimate word is I LIKE. It lies beneath philosophy, and is twined +about the heart of life. When philosophy has maundered ponderously for +a month, telling the individual what he must do, the individual says, +in an instant, “I LIKE,” and does something else, and philosophy goes +glimmering. It is I LIKE that makes the drunkard drink and the martyr +wear a hair shirt; that makes one man a reveller and another man an +anchorite; that makes one man pursue fame, another gold, another love, +and another God. Philosophy is very often a man’s way of explaining his +own I LIKE. + +But to return to the _Snark_, and why I, for one, want to journey in +her around the world. The things I like constitute my set of values. +The thing I like most of all is personal achievement—not achievement +for the world’s applause, but achievement for my own delight. It is the +old “I did it! I did it! With my own hands I did it!” But personal +achievement, with me, must be concrete. I’d rather win a water-fight in +the swimming pool, or remain astride a horse that is trying to get out +from under me, than write the great American novel. Each man to his +liking. Some other fellow would prefer writing the great American novel +to winning the water-fight or mastering the horse. + +Possibly the proudest achievement of my life, my moment of highest +living, occurred when I was seventeen. I was in a three-masted schooner +off the coast of Japan. We were in a typhoon. All hands had been on +deck most of the night. I was called from my bunk at seven in the +morning to take the wheel. Not a stitch of canvas was set. We were +running before it under bare poles, yet the schooner fairly tore along. +The seas were all of an eighth of a mile apart, and the wind snatched +the whitecaps from their summits, filling. The air so thick with +driving spray that it was impossible to see more than two waves at a +time. The schooner was almost unmanageable, rolling her rail under to +starboard and to port, veering and yawing anywhere between south-east +and south-west, and threatening, when the huge seas lifted under her +quarter, to broach to. Had she broached to, she would ultimately have +been reported lost with all hands and no tidings. + +I took the wheel. The sailing-master watched me for a space. He was +afraid of my youth, feared that I lacked the strength and the nerve. +But when he saw me successfully wrestle the schooner through several +bouts, he went below to breakfast. Fore and aft, all hands were below +at breakfast. Had she broached to, not one of them would ever have +reached the deck. For forty minutes I stood there alone at the wheel, +in my grasp the wildly careering schooner and the lives of twenty-two +men. Once we were pooped. I saw it coming, and, half-drowned, with tons +of water crushing me, I checked the schooner’s rush to broach to. At +the end of the hour, sweating and played out, I was relieved. But I had +done it! With my own hands I had done my trick at the wheel and guided +a hundred tons of wood and iron through a few million tons of wind and +waves. + +My delight was in that I had done it—not in the fact that twenty-two +men knew I had done it. Within the year over half of them were dead and +gone, yet my pride in the thing performed was not diminished by half. I +am willing to confess, however, that I do like a small audience. But it +must be a very small audience, composed of those who love me and whom I +love. When I then accomplish personal achievement, I have a feeling +that I am justifying their love for me. But this is quite apart from +the delight of the achievement itself. This delight is peculiarly my +own and does not depend upon witnesses. When I have done some such +thing, I am exalted. I glow all over. I am aware of a pride in myself +that is mine, and mine alone. It is organic. Every fibre of me is +thrilling with it. It is very natural. It is a mere matter of +satisfaction at adjustment to environment. It is success. + +Life that lives is life successful, and success is the breath of its +nostrils. The achievement of a difficult feat is successful adjustment +to a sternly exacting environment. The more difficult the feat, the +greater the satisfaction at its accomplishment. Thus it is with the man +who leaps forward from the springboard, out over the swimming pool, and +with a backward half-revolution of the body, enters the water head +first. Once he leaves the springboard his environment becomes +immediately savage, and savage the penalty it will exact should he fail +and strike the water flat. Of course, the man does not have to run the +risk of the penalty. He could remain on the bank in a sweet and placid +environment of summer air, sunshine, and stability. Only he is not made +that way. In that swift mid-air moment he lives as he could never live +on the bank. + +As for myself, I’d rather be that man than the fellows who sit on the +bank and watch him. That is why I am building the _Snark_. I am so +made. I like, that is all. The trip around the world means big moments +of living. Bear with me a moment and look at it. Here am I, a little +animal called a man—a bit of vitalized matter, one hundred and +sixty-five pounds of meat and blood, nerve, sinew, bones, and +brain,—all of it soft and tender, susceptible to hurt, fallible, and +frail. I strike a light back-handed blow on the nose of an obstreperous +horse, and a bone in my hand is broken. I put my head under the water +for five minutes, and I am drowned. I fall twenty feet through the air, +and I am smashed. I am a creature of temperature. A few degrees one +way, and my fingers and ears and toes blacken and drop off. A few +degrees the other way, and my skin blisters and shrivels away from the +raw, quivering flesh. A few additional degrees either way, and the life +and the light in me go out. A drop of poison injected into my body from +a snake, and I cease to move—for ever I cease to move. A splinter of +lead from a rifle enters my head, and I am wrapped around in the +eternal blackness. + +Fallible and frail, a bit of pulsating, jelly-like life—it is all I am. +About me are the great natural forces—colossal menaces, Titans of +destruction, unsentimental monsters that have less concern for me than +I have for the grain of sand I crush under my foot. They have no +concern at all for me. They do not know me. They are unconscious, +unmerciful, and unmoral. They are the cyclones and tornadoes, lightning +flashes and cloud-bursts, tide-rips and tidal waves, undertows and +waterspouts, great whirls and sucks and eddies, earthquakes and +volcanoes, surfs that thunder on rock-ribbed coasts and seas that leap +aboard the largest crafts that float, crushing humans to pulp or +licking them off into the sea and to death—and these insensate monsters +do not know that tiny sensitive creature, all nerves and weaknesses, +whom men call Jack London, and who himself thinks he is all right and +quite a superior being. + +In the maze and chaos of the conflict of these vast and draughty +Titans, it is for me to thread my precarious way. The bit of life that +is I will exult over them. The bit of life that is I, in so far as it +succeeds in baffling them or in bitting them to its service, will +imagine that it is godlike. It is good to ride the tempest and feel +godlike. I dare to assert that for a finite speck of pulsating jelly to +feel godlike is a far more glorious feeling than for a god to feel +godlike. + +Here is the sea, the wind, and the wave. Here are the seas, the winds, +and the waves of all the world. Here is ferocious environment. And here +is difficult adjustment, the achievement of which is delight to the +small quivering vanity that is I. I like. I am so made. It is my own +particular form of vanity, that is all. + +There is also another side to the voyage of the _Snark_. Being alive, I +want to see, and all the world is a bigger thing to see than one small +town or valley. We have done little outlining of the voyage. Only one +thing is definite, and that is that our first port of call will be +Honolulu. Beyond a few general ideas, we have no thought of our next +port after Hawaii. We shall make up our minds as we get nearer, in a +general way we know that we shall wander through the South Seas, take +in Samoa, New Zealand, Tasmania, Australia, New Guinea, Borneo, and +Sumatra, and go on up through the Philippines to Japan. Then will come +Korea, China, India, the Red Sea, and the Mediterranean. After that the +voyage becomes too vague to describe, though we know a number of things +we shall surely do, and we expect to spend from one to several months +in every country in Europe. + +The _Snark_ is to be sailed. There will be a gasolene engine on board, +but it will be used only in case of emergency, such as in bad water +among reefs and shoals, where a sudden calm in a swift current leaves a +sailing-boat helpless. The rig of the _Snark_ is to be what is called +the “ketch.” The ketch rig is a compromise between the yawl and the +schooner. Of late years the yawl rig has proved the best for cruising. +The ketch retains the cruising virtues of the yawl, and in addition +manages to embrace a few of the sailing virtues of the schooner. The +foregoing must be taken with a pinch of salt. It is all theory in my +head. I’ve never sailed a ketch, nor even seen one. The theory commends +itself to me. Wait till I get out on the ocean, then I’ll be able to +tell more about the cruising and sailing qualities of the ketch. + +As originally planned, the _Snark_ was to be forty feet long on the +water-line. But we discovered there was no space for a bath-room, and +for that reason we have increased her length to forty-five feet. Her +greatest beam is fifteen feet. She has no house and no hold. There is +six feet of headroom, and the deck is unbroken save for two +companionways and a hatch for’ard. The fact that there is no house to +break the strength of the deck will make us feel safer in case great +seas thunder their tons of water down on board. A large and roomy +cockpit, sunk beneath the deck, with high rail and self-bailing, will +make our rough-weather days and nights more comfortable. + +There will be no crew. Or, rather, Charmian, Roscoe, and I are the +crew. We are going to do the thing with our own hands. With our own +hands we’re going to circumnavigate the globe. Sail her or sink her, +with our own hands we’ll do it. Of course there will be a cook and a +cabin-boy. Why should we stew over a stove, wash dishes, and set the +table? We could stay on land if we wanted to do those things. Besides, +we’ve got to stand watch and work the ship. And also, I’ve got to work +at my trade of writing in order to feed us and to get new sails and +tackle and keep the _Snark_ in efficient working order. And then +there’s the ranch; I’ve got to keep the vineyard, orchard, and hedges +growing. + +When we increased the length of the _Snark_ in order to get space for a +bath-room, we found that all the space was not required by the +bath-room. Because of this, we increased the size of the engine. +Seventy horse-power our engine is, and since we expect it to drive us +along at a nine-knot clip, we do not know the name of a river with a +current swift enough to defy us. + +We expect to do a lot of inland work. The smallness of the _Snark_ +makes this possible. When we enter the land, out go the masts and on +goes the engine. There are the canals of China, and the Yang-tse River. +We shall spend months on them if we can get permission from the +government. That will be the one obstacle to our inland +voyaging—governmental permission. But if we can get that permission, +there is scarcely a limit to the inland voyaging we can do. + +When we come to the Nile, why we can go up the Nile. We can go up the +Danube to Vienna, up the Thames to London, and we can go up the Seine +to Paris and moor opposite the Latin Quarter with a bow-line out to +Notre Dame and a stern-line fast to the Morgue. We can leave the +Mediterranean and go up the Rhône to Lyons, there enter the Saône, +cross from the Saône to the Maine through the Canal de Bourgogne, and +from the Marne enter the Seine and go out the Seine at Havre. When we +cross the Atlantic to the United States, we can go up the Hudson, pass +through the Erie Canal, cross the Great Lakes, leave Lake Michigan at +Chicago, gain the Mississippi by way of the Illinois River and the +connecting canal, and go down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico. +And then there are the great rivers of South America. We’ll know +something about geography when we get back to California. + +People that build houses are often sore perplexed; but if they enjoy +the strain of it, I’ll advise them to build a boat like the _Snark_. +Just consider, for a moment, the strain of detail. Take the engine. +What is the best kind of engine—the two cycle? three cycle? four cycle? +My lips are mutilated with all kinds of strange jargon, my mind is +mutilated with still stranger ideas and is foot-sore and weary from +travelling in new and rocky realms of thought.—Ignition methods; shall +it be make-and-break or jump-spark? Shall dry cells or storage +batteries be used? A storage battery commends itself, but it requires a +dynamo. How powerful a dynamo? And when we have installed a dynamo and +a storage battery, it is simply ridiculous not to light the boat with +electricity. Then comes the discussion of how many lights and how many +candle-power. It is a splendid idea. But electric lights will demand a +more powerful storage battery, which, in turn, demands a more powerful +dynamo. + +And now that we’ve gone in for it, why not have a searchlight? It would +be tremendously useful. But the searchlight needs so much electricity +that when it runs it will put all the other lights out of commission. +Again we travel the weary road in the quest after more power for +storage battery and dynamo. And then, when it is finally solved, some +one asks, “What if the engine breaks down?” And we collapse. There are +the sidelights, the binnacle light, and the anchor light. Our very +lives depend upon them. So we have to fit the boat throughout with oil +lamps as well. + +But we are not done with that engine yet. The engine is powerful. We +are two small men and a small woman. It will break our hearts and our +backs to hoist anchor by hand. Let the engine do it. And then comes the +problem of how to convey power for’ard from the engine to the winch. +And by the time all this is settled, we redistribute the allotments of +space to the engine-room, galley, bath-room, state-rooms, and cabin, +and begin all over again. And when we have shifted the engine, I send +off a telegram of gibberish to its makers at New York, something like +this: _Toggle-joint abandoned change thrust-bearing accordingly +distance from forward side of flywheel to face of stern post sixteen +feet six inches_. + +Just potter around in quest of the best steering gear, or try to decide +whether you will set up your rigging with old-fashioned lanyards or +with turnbuckles, if you want strain of detail. Shall the binnacle be +located in front of the wheel in the centre of the beam, or shall it be +located to one side in front of the wheel?—there’s room right there for +a library of sea-dog controversy. Then there’s the problem of gasolene, +fifteen hundred gallons of it—what are the safest ways to tank it and +pipe it? and which is the best fire-extinguisher for a gasolene fire? +Then there is the pretty problem of the life-boat and the stowage of +the same. And when that is finished, come the cook and cabin-boy to +confront one with nightmare possibilities. It is a small boat, and +we’ll be packed close together. The servant-girl problem of landsmen +pales to insignificance. We did select one cabin-boy, and by that much +were our troubles eased. And then the cabin-boy fell in love and +resigned. + +And in the meanwhile how is a fellow to find time to study +navigation—when he is divided between these problems and the earning of +the money wherewith to settle the problems? Neither Roscoe nor I know +anything about navigation, and the summer is gone, and we are about to +start, and the problems are thicker than ever, and the treasury is +stuffed with emptiness. Well, anyway, it takes years to learn +seamanship, and both of us are seamen. If we don’t find the time, we’ll +lay in the books and instruments and teach ourselves navigation on the +ocean between San Francisco and Hawaii. + +There is one unfortunate and perplexing phase of the voyage of the +_Snark_. Roscoe, who is to be my co-navigator, is a follower of one, +Cyrus R. Teed. Now Cyrus R. Teed has a different cosmology from the one +generally accepted, and Roscoe shares his views. Wherefore Roscoe +believes that the surface of the earth is concave and that we live on +the inside of a hollow sphere. Thus, though we shall sail on the one +boat, the _Snark_, Roscoe will journey around the world on the inside, +while I shall journey around on the outside. But of this, more anon. We +threaten to be of the one mind before the voyage is completed. I am +confident that I shall convert him into making the journey on the +outside, while he is equally confident that before we arrive back in +San Francisco I shall be on the inside of the earth. How he is going to +get me through the crust I don’t know, but Roscoe is ay a masterful +man. + + +P.S.—That engine! While we’ve got it, and the dynamo, and the storage +battery, why not have an ice-machine? Ice in the tropics! It is more +necessary than bread. Here goes for the ice-machine! Now I am plunged +into chemistry, and my lips hurt, and my mind hurts, and how am I ever +to find the time to study navigation? + + + + +CHAPTER II +THE INCONCEIVABLE AND MONSTROUS + + +“Spare no money,” I said to Roscoe. “Let everything on the _Snark_ be +of the best. And never mind decoration. Plain pine boards is good +enough finishing for me. But put the money into the construction. Let +the _Snark_ be as staunch and strong as any boat afloat. Never mind +what it costs to make her staunch and strong; you see that she is made +staunch and strong, and I’ll go on writing and earning the money to pay +for it.” + +And I did . . . as well as I could; for the _Snark_ ate up money faster +than I could earn it. In fact, every little while I had to borrow money +with which to supplement my earnings. Now I borrowed one thousand +dollars, now I borrowed two thousand dollars, and now I borrowed five +thousand dollars. And all the time I went on working every day and +sinking the earnings in the venture. I worked Sundays as well, and I +took no holidays. But it was worth it. Every time I thought of the +_Snark_ I knew she was worth it. + +For know, gentle reader, the staunchness of the _Snark_. She is +forty-five feet long on the waterline. Her garboard strake is three +inches thick; her planking two and one-half inches thick; her +deck-planking two inches thick and in all her planking there are no +butts. I know, for I ordered that planking especially from Puget Sound. +Then the _Snark_ has four water-tight compartments, which is to say +that her length is broken by three water-tight bulkheads. Thus, no +matter how large a leak the _Snark_ may spring, Only one compartment +can fill with water. The other three compartments will keep her afloat, +anyway, and, besides, will enable us to mend the leak. There is another +virtue in these bulkheads. The last compartment of all, in the very +stern, contains six tanks that carry over one thousand gallons of +gasolene. Now gasolene is a very dangerous article to carry in bulk on +a small craft far out on the wide ocean. But when the six tanks that do +not leak are themselves contained in a compartment hermetically sealed +off from the rest of the boat, the danger will be seen to be very small +indeed. + +The _Snark_ is a sail-boat. She was built primarily to sail. But +incidentally, as an auxiliary, a seventy-horse-power engine was +installed. This is a good, strong engine. I ought to know. I paid for +it to come out all the way from New York City. Then, on deck, above the +engine, is a windlass. It is a magnificent affair. It weighs several +hundred pounds and takes up no end of deck-room. You see, it is +ridiculous to hoist up anchor by hand-power when there is a +seventy-horse-power engine on board. So we installed the windlass, +transmitting power to it from the engine by means of a gear and +castings specially made in a San Francisco foundry. + +The _Snark_ was made for comfort, and no expense was spared in this +regard. There is the bath-room, for instance, small and compact, it is +true, but containing all the conveniences of any bath-room upon land. +The bath-room is a beautiful dream of schemes and devices, pumps, and +levers, and sea-valves. Why, in the course of its building, I used to +lie awake nights thinking about that bath-room. And next to the +bath-room come the life-boat and the launch. They are carried on deck, +and they take up what little space might have been left us for +exercise. But then, they beat life insurance; and the prudent man, even +if he has built as staunch and strong a craft as the _Snark_, will see +to it that he has a good life-boat as well. And ours is a good one. It +is a dandy. It was stipulated to cost one hundred and fifty dollars, +and when I came to pay the bill, it turned out to be three hundred and +ninety-five dollars. That shows how good a life-boat it is. + +I could go on at great length relating the various virtues and +excellences of the _Snark_, but I refrain. I have bragged enough as it +is, and I have bragged to a purpose, as will be seen before my tale is +ended. And please remember its title, “The Inconceivable and +Monstrous.” It was planned that the _Snark_ should sail on October 1, +1906. That she did not so sail was inconceivable and monstrous. There +was no valid reason for not sailing except that she was not ready to +sail, and there was no conceivable reason why she was not ready. She +was promised on November first, on November fifteenth, on December +first; and yet she was never ready. On December first Charmian and I +left the sweet, clean Sonoma country and came down to live in the +stifling city—but not for long, oh, no, only for two weeks, for we +would sail on December fifteenth. And I guess we ought to know, for +Roscoe said so, and it was on his advice that we came to the city to +stay two weeks. Alas, the two weeks went by, four weeks went by, six +weeks went by, eight weeks went by, and we were farther away from +sailing than ever. Explain it? Who?—me? I can’t. It is the one thing in +all my life that I have backed down on. There is no explaining it; if +there were, I’d do it. I, who am an artisan of speech, confess my +inability to explain why the _Snark_ was not ready. As I have said, and +as I must repeat, it was inconceivable and monstrous. + +The eight weeks became sixteen weeks, and then, one day, Roscoe cheered +us up by saying: “If we don’t sail before April first, you can use my +head for a football.” + +Two weeks later he said, “I’m getting my head in training for that +match.” + +“Never mind,” Charmian and I said to each other; “think of the +wonderful boat it is going to be when it is completed.” + +Whereat we would rehearse for our mutual encouragement the manifold +virtues and excellences of the _Snark_. Also, I would borrow more +money, and I would get down closer to my desk and write harder, and I +refused heroically to take a Sunday off and go out into the hills with +my friends. I was building a boat, and by the eternal it was going to +be a boat, and a boat spelled out all in capitals—B—O—A—T; and no +matter what it cost I didn’t care. So long as it was a B O A T. + +And, oh, there is one other excellence of the _Snark_, upon which I +must brag, namely, her bow. No sea could ever come over it. It laughs +at the sea, that bow does; it challenges the sea; it snorts defiance at +the sea. And withal it is a beautiful bow; the lines of it are +dreamlike; I doubt if ever a boat was blessed with a more beautiful and +at the same time a more capable bow. It was made to punch storms. To +touch that bow is to rest one’s hand on the cosmic nose of things. To +look at it is to realize that expense cut no figure where it was +concerned. And every time our sailing was delayed, or a new expense was +tacked on, we thought of that wonderful bow and were content. + +The _Snark_ is a small boat. When I figured seven thousand dollars as +her generous cost, I was both generous and correct. I have built barns +and houses, and I know the peculiar trait such things have of running +past their estimated cost. This knowledge was mine, was already mine, +when I estimated the probable cost of the building of the _Snark_ at +seven thousand dollars. Well, she cost thirty thousand. Now don’t ask +me, please. It is the truth. I signed the cheques and I raised the +money. Of course there is no explaining it, inconceivable and monstrous +is what it is, as you will agree, I know, ere my tale is done. + +Then there was the matter of delay. I dealt with forty-seven different +kinds of union men and with one hundred and fifteen different firms. +And not one union man and not one firm of all the union men and all the +firms ever delivered anything at the time agreed upon, nor ever was on +time for anything except pay-day and bill-collection. Men pledged me +their immortal souls that they would deliver a certain thing on a +certain date; as a rule, after such pledging, they rarely exceeded +being three months late in delivery. And so it went, and Charmian and I +consoled each other by saying what a splendid boat the _Snark_ was, so +staunch and strong; also, we would get into the small boat and row +around the _Snark_, and gloat over her unbelievably wonderful bow. + +“Think,” I would say to Charmian, “of a gale off the China coast, and +of the _Snark_ hove to, that splendid bow of hers driving into the +storm. Not a drop will come over that bow. She’ll be as dry as a +feather, and we’ll be all below playing whist while the gale howls.” + +And Charmian would press my hand enthusiastically and exclaim: “It’s +worth every bit of it—the delay, and expense, and worry, and all the +rest. Oh, what a truly wonderful boat!” + +Whenever I looked at the bow of the _Snark_ or thought of her +water-tight compartments, I was encouraged. Nobody else, however, was +encouraged. My friends began to make bets against the various sailing +dates of the _Snark_. Mr. Wiget, who was left behind in charge of our +Sonoma ranch was the first to cash his bet. He collected on New Year’s +Day, 1907. After that the bets came fast and furious. My friends +surrounded me like a gang of harpies, making bets against every sailing +date I set. I was rash, and I was stubborn. I bet, and I bet, and I +continued to bet; and I paid them all. Why, the women-kind of my +friends grew so brave that those among them who never bet before began +to bet with me. And I paid them, too. + +“Never mind,” said Charmian to me; “just think of that bow and of being +hove to on the China Seas.” + +“You see,” I said to my friends, when I paid the latest bunch of +wagers, “neither trouble nor cash is being spared in making the _Snark_ +the most seaworthy craft that ever sailed out through the Golden +Gate—that is what causes all the delay.” + +In the meantime editors and publishers with whom I had contracts +pestered me with demands for explanations. But how could I explain to +them, when I was unable to explain to myself, or when there was nobody, +not even Roscoe, to explain to me? The newspapers began to laugh at me, +and to publish rhymes anent the _Snark’s_ departure with refrains like, +“Not yet, but soon.” And Charmian cheered me up by reminding me of the +bow, and I went to a banker and borrowed five thousand more. There was +one recompense for the delay, however. A friend of mine, who happens to +be a critic, wrote a roast of me, of all I had done, and of all I ever +was going to do; and he planned to have it published after I was out on +the ocean. I was still on shore when it came out, and he has been busy +explaining ever since. + +And the time continued to go by. One thing was becoming apparent, +namely, that it was impossible to finish the _Snark_ in San Francisco. +She had been so long in the building that she was beginning to break +down and wear out. In fact, she had reached the stage where she was +breaking down faster than she could be repaired. She had become a joke. +Nobody took her seriously; least of all the men who worked on her. I +said we would sail just as she was and finish building her in Honolulu. +Promptly she sprang a leak that had to be attended to before we could +sail. I started her for the boat-ways. Before she got to them she was +caught between two huge barges and received a vigorous crushing. We got +her on the ways, and, part way along, the ways spread and dropped her +through, stern-first, into the mud. + +It was a pretty tangle, a job for wreckers, not boat-builders. There +are two high tides every twenty-four hours, and at every high tide, +night and day, for a week, there were two steam tugs pulling and +hauling on the _Snark_. There she was, stuck, fallen between the ways +and standing on her stern. Next, and while still in that predicament, +we started to use the gears and castings made in the local foundry +whereby power was conveyed from the engine to the windlass. It was the +first time we ever tried to use that windlass. The castings had flaws; +they shattered asunder, the gears ground together, and the windlass was +out of commission. Following upon that, the seventy-horse-power engine +went out of commission. This engine came from New York; so did its +bed-plate; there was a flaw in the bed-plate; there were a lot of flaws +in the bed-plate; and the seventy-horse-power engine broke away from +its shattered foundations, reared up in the air, smashed all +connections and fastenings, and fell over on its side. And the _Snark_ +continued to stick between the spread ways, and the two tugs continued +to haul vainly upon her. + +“Never mind,” said Charmian, “think of what a staunch, strong boat she +is.” + +“Yes,” said I, “and of that beautiful bow.” + +So we took heart and went at it again. The ruined engine was lashed +down on its rotten foundation; the smashed castings and cogs of the +power transmission were taken down and stored away—all for the purpose +of taking them to Honolulu where repairs and new castings could be +made. Somewhere in the dim past the _Snark_ had received on the outside +one coat of white paint. The intention of the colour was still evident, +however, when one got it in the right light. The _Snark_ had never +received any paint on the inside. On the contrary, she was coated +inches thick with the grease and tobacco-juice of the multitudinous +mechanics who had toiled upon her. Never mind, we said; the grease and +filth could be planed off, and later, when we fetched Honolulu, the +_Snark_ could be painted at the same time as she was being rebuilt. + +By main strength and sweat we dragged the _Snark_ off from the wrecked +ways and laid her alongside the Oakland City Wharf. The drays brought +all the outfit from home, the books and blankets and personal luggage. +Along with this, everything else came on board in a torrent of +confusion—wood and coal, water and water-tanks, vegetables, provisions, +oil, the life-boat and the launch, all our friends, all the friends of +our friends and those who claimed to be their friends, to say nothing +of some of the friends of the friends of the friends of our crew. Also +there were reporters, and photographers, and strangers, and cranks, and +finally, and over all, clouds of coal-dust from the wharf. + +We were to sail Sunday at eleven, and Saturday afternoon had arrived. +The crowd on the wharf and the coal-dust were thicker than ever. In one +pocket I carried a cheque-book, a fountain-pen, a dater, and a blotter; +in another pocket I carried between one and two thousand dollars in +paper money and gold. I was ready for the creditors, cash for the small +ones and cheques for the large ones, and was waiting only for Roscoe to +arrive with the balances of the accounts of the hundred and fifteen +firms who had delayed me so many months. And then— + +And then the inconceivable and monstrous happened once more. Before +Roscoe could arrive there arrived another man. He was a United States +marshal. He tacked a notice on the _Snark’s_ brave mast so that all on +the wharf could read that the _Snark_ had been libelled for debt. The +marshal left a little old man in charge of the _Snark_, and himself +went away. I had no longer any control of the _Snark_, nor of her +wonderful bow. The little old man was now her lord and master, and I +learned that I was paying him three dollars a day for being lord and +master. Also, I learned the name of the man who had libelled the +_Snark_. It was Sellers; the debt was two hundred and thirty-two +dollars; and the deed was no more than was to be expected from the +possessor of such a name. Sellers! Ye gods! Sellers! + +But who under the sun was Sellers? I looked in my cheque-book and saw +that two weeks before I had made him out a cheque for five hundred +dollars. Other cheque-books showed me that during the many months of +the building of the _Snark_ I had paid him several thousand dollars. +Then why in the name of common decency hadn’t he tried to collect his +miserable little balance instead of libelling the _Snark_? I thrust my +hands into my pockets, and in one pocket encountered the cheque-hook +and the dater and the pen, and in the other pocket the gold money and +the paper money. There was the wherewithal to settle his pitiful +account a few score of times and over—why hadn’t he given me a chance? +There was no explanation; it was merely the inconceivable and +monstrous. + +To make the matter worse, the _Snark_ had been libelled late Saturday +afternoon; and though I sent lawyers and agents all over Oakland and +San Francisco, neither United States judge, nor United States marshal, +nor Mr. Sellers, nor Mr. Sellers’ attorney, nor anybody could be found. +They were all out of town for the weekend. And so the _Snark_ did not +sail Sunday morning at eleven. The little old man was still in charge, +and he said no. And Charmian and I walked out on an opposite wharf and +took consolation in the _Snark’s_ wonderful bow and thought of all the +gales and typhoons it would proudly punch. + +“A bourgeois trick,” I said to Charmian, speaking of Mr. Sellers and +his libel; “a petty trader’s panic. But never mind; our troubles will +cease when once we are away from this and out on the wide ocean.” + +And in the end we sailed away, on Tuesday morning, April 23, 1907. We +started rather lame, I confess. We had to hoist anchor by hand, because +the power transmission was a wreck. Also, what remained of our +seventy-horse-power engine was lashed down for ballast on the bottom of +the _Snark_. But what of such things? They could be fixed in Honolulu, +and in the meantime think of the magnificent rest of the boat! It is +true, the engine in the launch wouldn’t run, and the life-boat leaked +like a sieve; but then they weren’t the _Snark_; they were mere +appurtenances. The things that counted were the water-tight bulkheads, +the solid planking without butts, the bath-room devices—they were the +_Snark_. And then there was, greatest of all, that noble, wind-punching +bow. + +We sailed out through the Golden Gate and set our course south toward +that part of the Pacific where we could hope to pick up with the +north-east trades. And right away things began to happen. I had +calculated that youth was the stuff for a voyage like that of the +_Snark_, and I had taken three youths—the engineer, the cook, and the +cabin-boy. My calculation was only two-thirds _off_; I had forgotten to +calculate on seasick youth, and I had two of them, the cook and the +cabin boy. They immediately took to their bunks, and that was the end +of their usefulness for a week to come. It will be understood, from the +foregoing, that we did not have the hot meals we might have had, nor +were things kept clean and orderly down below. But it did not matter +very much anyway, for we quickly discovered that our box of oranges had +at some time been frozen; that our box of apples was mushy and +spoiling; that the crate of cabbages, spoiled before it was ever +delivered to us, had to go overboard instanter; that kerosene had been +spilled on the carrots, and that the turnips were woody and the beets +rotten, while the kindling was dead wood that wouldn’t burn, and the +coal, delivered in rotten potato-sacks, had spilled all over the deck +and was washing through the scuppers. + +But what did it matter? Such things were mere accessories. There was +the boat—she was all right, wasn’t she? I strolled along the deck and +in one minute counted fourteen butts in the beautiful planking ordered +specially from Puget Sound in order that there should be no butts in +it. Also, that deck leaked, and it leaked badly. It drowned Roscoe out +of his bunk and ruined the tools in the engine-room, to say nothing of +the provisions it ruined in the galley. Also, the sides of the _Snark_ +leaked, and the bottom leaked, and we had to pump her every day to keep +her afloat. The floor of the galley is a couple of feet above the +inside bottom of the _Snark_; and yet I have stood on the floor of the +galley, trying to snatch a cold bite, and been wet to the knees by the +water churning around inside four hours after the last pumping. + +Then those magnificent water-tight compartments that cost so much time +and money—well, they weren’t water-tight after all. The water moved +free as the air from one compartment to another; furthermore, a strong +smell of gasolene from the after compartment leads me to suspect that +some one or more of the half-dozen tanks there stored have sprung a +leak. The tanks leak, and they are not hermetically sealed in their +compartment. Then there was the bath-room with its pumps and levers and +sea-valves—it went out of commission inside the first twenty hours. +Powerful iron levers broke off short in one’s hand when one tried to +pump with them. The bath-room was the swiftest wreck of any portion of +the _Snark_. + +And the iron-work on the _Snark_, no matter what its source, proved to +be mush. For instance, the bed-plate of the engine came from New York, +and it was mush; so were the casting and gears for the windlass that +came from San Francisco. And finally, there was the wrought iron used +in the rigging, that carried away in all directions when the first +strains were put upon it. Wrought iron, mind you, and it snapped like +macaroni. + +A gooseneck on the gaff of the mainsail broke short off. We replaced it +with the gooseneck from the gaff of the storm trysail, and the second +gooseneck broke short off inside fifteen minutes of use, and, mind you, +it had been taken from the gaff of the storm trysail, upon which we +would have depended in time of storm. At the present moment the _Snark_ +trails her mainsail like a broken wing, the gooseneck being replaced by +a rough lashing. We’ll see if we can get honest iron in Honolulu. + +Man had betrayed us and sent us to sea in a sieve, but the Lord must +have loved us, for we had calm weather in which to learn that we must +pump every day in order to keep afloat, and that more trust could be +placed in a wooden toothpick than in the most massive piece of iron to +be found aboard. As the staunchness and the strength of the _Snark_ +went glimmering, Charmian and I pinned our faith more and more to the +_Snark’s_ wonderful bow. There was nothing else left to pin to. It was +all inconceivable and monstrous, we knew, but that bow, at least, was +rational. And then, one evening, we started to heave to. + +How shall I describe it? First of all, for the benefit of the tyro, let +me explain that heaving to is that sea manœuvre which, by means of +short and balanced canvas, compels a vessel to ride bow-on to wind and +sea. When the wind is too strong, or the sea is too high, a vessel of +the size of the _Snark_ can heave to with ease, whereupon there is no +more work to do on deck. Nobody needs to steer. The lookout is +superfluous. All hands can go below and sleep or play whist. + +Well, it was blowing half of a small summer gale, when I told Roscoe +we’d heave to. Night was coming on. I had been steering nearly all day, +and all hands on deck (Roscoe and Bert and Charmian) were tired, while +all hands below were seasick. It happened that we had already put two +reefs in the big mainsail. The flying-jib and the jib were taken in, +and a reef put in the fore-staysail. The mizzen was also taken in. +About this time the flying jib-boom buried itself in a sea and broke +short off. I started to put the wheel down in order to heave to. The +_Snark_ at the moment was rolling in the trough. She continued rolling +in the trough. I put the spokes down harder and harder. She never +budged from the trough. (The trough, gentle reader, is the most +dangerous position all in which to lay a vessel.) I put the wheel hard +down, and still the _Snark_ rolled in the trough. Eight points was the +nearest I could get her to the wind. I had Roscoe and Bert come in on +the main-sheet. The _Snark_ rolled on in the trough, now putting her +rail under on one side and now under on the other side. + +Again the inconceivable and monstrous was showing its grizzly head. It +was grotesque, impossible. I refused to believe it. Under double-reefed +mainsail and single-reefed staysail the _Snark_ refused to heave to. We +flattened the mainsail down. It did not alter the _Snark’s_ course a +tenth of a degree. We slacked the mainsail off with no more result. We +set a storm trysail on the mizzen, and took in the mainsail. No change. +The _Snark_ roiled on in the trough. That beautiful bow of hers refused +to come up and face the wind. + +Next we took in the reefed staysail. Thus, the only bit of canvas left +on her was the storm trysail on the mizzen. If anything would bring her +bow up to the wind, that would. Maybe you won’t believe me when I say +it failed, but I do say it failed. And I say it failed because I saw it +fail, and not because I believe it failed. I don’t believe it did fail. +It is unbelievable, and I am not telling you what I believe; I am +telling you what I saw. + +Now, gentle reader, what would you do if you were on a small boat, +rolling in the trough of the sea, a trysail on that small boat’s stern +that was unable to swing the bow up into the wind? Get out the +sea-anchor. It’s just what we did. We had a patent one, made to order +and warranted not to dive. Imagine a hoop of steel that serves to keep +open the mouth of a large, conical, canvas bag, and you have a +sea-anchor. Well, we made a line fast to the sea-anchor and to the bow +of the _Snark_, and then dropped the sea-anchor overboard. It promptly +dived. We had a tripping line on it, so we tripped the sea-anchor and +hauled it in. We attached a big timber as a float, and dropped the +sea-anchor over again. This time it floated. The line to the bow grew +taut. The trysail on the mizzen tended to swing the bow into the wind, +but, in spite of this tendency, the _Snark_ calmly took that sea-anchor +in her teeth, and went on ahead, dragging it after her, still in the +trough of the sea. And there you are. We even took in the trysail, +hoisted the full mizzen in its place, and hauled the full mizzen down +flat, and the _Snark_ wallowed in the trough and dragged the sea-anchor +behind her. Don’t believe me. I don’t believe it myself. I am merely +telling you what I saw. + +Now I leave it to you. Who ever heard of a sailing-boat that wouldn’t +heave to?—that wouldn’t heave to with a sea-anchor to help it? Out of +my brief experience with boats I know I never did. And I stood on deck +and looked on the naked face of the inconceivable and monstrous—the +_Snark_ that wouldn’t heave to. A stormy night with broken moonlight +had come on. There was a splash of wet in the air, and up to windward +there was a promise of rain-squalls; and then there was the trough of +the sea, cold and cruel in the moonlight, in which the _Snark_ +complacently rolled. And then we took in the sea-anchor and the mizzen, +hoisted the reefed staysail, ran the _Snark_ off before it, and went +below—not to the hot meal that should have awaited us, but to skate +across the slush and slime on the cabin floor, where cook and cabin-boy +lay like dead men in their bunks, and to lie down in our own bunks, +with our clothes on ready for a call, and to listen to the bilge-water +spouting knee-high on the galley floor. + +In the Bohemian Club of San Francisco there are some crack sailors. I +know, because I heard them pass judgment on the _Snark_ during the +process of her building. They found only one vital thing the matter +with her, and on this they were all agreed, namely, that she could not +run. She was all right in every particular, they said, except that I’d +never be able to run her before it in a stiff wind and sea. “Her +lines,” they explained enigmatically, “it is the fault of her lines. +She simply cannot be made to run, that is all.” Well, I wish I’d only +had those crack sailors of the Bohemian Club on board the _Snark_ the +other night for them to see for themselves their one, vital, unanimous +judgment absolutely reversed. Run? It is the one thing the _Snark_ does +to perfection. Run? She ran with a sea-anchor fast for’ard and a full +mizzen flattened down aft. Run? At the present moment, as I write this, +we are bowling along before it, at a six-knot clip, in the north-east +trades. Quite a tidy bit of sea is running. There is nobody at the +wheel, the wheel is not even lashed and is set over a half-spoke +weather helm. To be precise, the wind is north-east; the _Snark’s_ +mizzen is furled, her mainsail is over to starboard, her head-sheets +are hauled flat: and the _Snark’s_ course is south-south-west. And yet +there are men who have sailed the seas for forty years and who hold +that no boat can run before it without being steered. They’ll call me a +liar when they read this; it’s what they called Captain Slocum when he +said the same of his _Spray_. + +As regards the future of the _Snark_ I’m all at sea. I don’t know. If I +had the money or the credit, I’d build another _Snark_ that _would_ +heave to. But I am at the end of my resources. I’ve got to put up with +the present _Snark_ or quit—and I can’t quit. So I guess I’ll have to +try to get along with heaving the _Snark_ to stern first. I am waiting +for the next gale to see how it will work. I think it can be done. It +all depends on how her stern takes the seas. And who knows but that +some wild morning on the China Sea, some gray-beard skipper will stare, +rub his incredulous eyes and stare again, at the spectacle of a weird, +small craft very much like the _Snark_, hove to stern-first and riding +out the gale? + +P.S. On my return to California after the voyage, I learned that the +_Snark_ was forty-three feet on the water-line instead of forty-five. +This was due to the fact that the builder was not on speaking terms +with the tape-line or two-foot rule. + + + + +CHAPTER III +ADVENTURE + + +No, adventure is not dead, and in spite of the steam engine and of +Thomas Cook & Son. When the announcement of the contemplated voyage of +the _Snark_ was made, young men of “roving disposition” proved to be +legion, and young women as well—to say nothing of the elderly men and +women who volunteered for the voyage. Why, among my personal friends +there were at least half a dozen who regretted their recent or imminent +marriages; and there was one marriage I know of that almost failed to +come off because of the _Snark_. + + +Every mail to me was burdened with the letters of applicants who were +suffocating in the “man-stifled towns,” and it soon dawned upon me that +a twentieth century Ulysses required a corps of stenographers to clear +his correspondence before setting sail. No, adventure is certainly not +dead—not while one receives letters that begin: + +“There is no doubt that when you read this soul-plea from a female +stranger in New York City,” etc.; and wherein one learns, a little +farther on, that this female stranger weighs only ninety pounds, wants +to be cabin-boy, and “yearns to see the countries of the world.” + +The possession of a “passionate fondness for geography,” was the way +one applicant expressed the wander-lust that was in him; while another +wrote, “I am cursed with an eternal yearning to be always on the move, +consequently this letter to you.” But best of all was the fellow who +said he wanted to come because his feet itched. + +There were a few who wrote anonymously, suggesting names of friends and +giving said friends’ qualifications; but to me there was a hint of +something sinister in such proceedings, and I went no further in the +matter. + +With two or three exceptions, all the hundreds that volunteered for my +crew were very much in earnest. Many of them sent their photographs. +Ninety per cent. offered to work in any capacity, and ninety-nine per +cent. offered to work without salary. “Contemplating your voyage on the +_Snark_,” said one, “and notwithstanding its attendant dangers, to +accompany you (in any capacity whatever) would be the climax of my +ambitions.” Which reminds me of the young fellow who was “seventeen +years old and ambicious,” and who, at the end of his letter, earnestly +requested “but please do not let this git into the papers or +magazines.” Quite different was the one who said, “I would be willing +to work like hell and not demand pay.” Almost all of them wanted me to +telegraph, at their expense, my acceptance of their services; and quite +a number offered to put up a bond to guarantee their appearance on +sailing date. + +Some were rather vague in their own minds concerning the work to be +done on the _Snark_; as, for instance, the one who wrote: “I am taking +the liberty of writing you this note to find out if there would be any +possibility of my going with you as one of the crew of your boat to +make sketches and illustrations.” Several, unaware of the needful work +on a small craft like the _Snark_, offered to serve, as one of them +phrased it, “as assistant in filing materials collected for books and +novels.” That’s what one gets for being prolific. + +“Let me give my qualifications for the job,” wrote one. “I am an orphan +living with my uncle, who is a hot revolutionary socialist and who says +a man without the red blood of adventure is an animated dish-rag.” Said +another: “I can swim some, though I don’t know any of the new strokes. +But what is more important than strokes, the water is a friend of +mine.” “If I was put alone in a sail-boat, I could get her anywhere I +wanted to go,” was the qualification of a third—and a better +qualification than the one that follows, “I have also watched the +fish-boats unload.” But possibly the prize should go to this one, who +very subtly conveys his deep knowledge of the world and life by saying: +“My age, in years, is twenty-two.” + +Then there were the simple straight-out, homely, and unadorned letters +of young boys, lacking in the felicities of expression, it is true, but +desiring greatly to make the voyage. These were the hardest of all to +decline, and each time I declined one it seemed as if I had struck +Youth a slap in the face. They were so earnest, these boys, they wanted +so much to go. “I am sixteen but large for my age,” said one; and +another, “Seventeen but large and healthy.” “I am as strong at least as +the average boy of my size,” said an evident weakling. “Not afraid of +any kind of work,” was what many said, while one in particular, to lure +me no doubt by inexpensiveness, wrote: “I can pay my way to the Pacific +coast, so that part would probably be acceptable to you.” “Going around +the world is _the one thing_ I want to do,” said one, and it seemed to +be the one thing that a few hundred wanted to do. “I have no one who +cares whether I go or not,” was the pathetic note sounded by another. +One had sent his photograph, and speaking of it, said, “I’m a +homely-looking sort of a chap, but looks don’t always count.” And I am +confident that the lad who wrote the following would have turned out +all right: “My age is 19 years, but I am rather small and consequently +won’t take up much room, but I’m tough as the devil.” And there was one +thirteen-year-old applicant that Charmian and I fell in love with, and +it nearly broke our hearts to refuse him. + +But it must not be imagined that most of my volunteers were boys; on +the contrary, boys constituted a very small proportion. There were men +and women from every walk in life. Physicians, surgeons, and dentists +offered in large numbers to come along, and, like all the professional +men, offered to come without pay, to serve in any capacity, and to pay, +even, for the privilege of so serving. + +There was no end of compositors and reporters who wanted to come, to +say nothing of experienced valets, chefs, and stewards. Civil engineers +were keen on the voyage; “lady” companions galore cropped up for +Charmian; while I was deluged with the applications of would-be private +secretaries. Many high school and university students yearned for the +voyage, and every trade in the working class developed a few +applicants, the machinists, electricians, and engineers being +especially strong on the trip. I was surprised at the number, who, in +musty law offices, heard the call of adventure; and I was more than +surprised by the number of elderly and retired sea captains who were +still thralls to the sea. Several young fellows, with millions coming +to them later on, were wild for the adventure, as were also several +county superintendents of schools. + +Fathers and sons wanted to come, and many men with their wives, to say +nothing of the young woman stenographer who wrote: “Write immediately +if you need me. I shall bring my typewriter on the first train.” But +the best of all is the following—observe the delicate way in which he +worked in his wife: “I thought I would drop you a line of inquiry as to +the possibility of making the trip with you, am 24 years of age, +married and broke, and a trip of that kind would be just what we are +looking for.” + +Come to think of it, for the average man it must be fairly difficult to +write an honest letter of self-recommendation. One of my correspondents +was so stumped that he began his letter with the words, “This is a hard +task”; and, after vainly trying to describe his good points, he wound +up with, “It is a hard job writing about one’s self.” Nevertheless, +there was one who gave himself a most glowing and lengthy character, +and in conclusion stated that he had greatly enjoyed writing it. + +“But suppose this: your cabin-boy could run your engine, could repair +it when out of order. Suppose he could take his turn at the wheel, +could do any carpenter or machinist work. Suppose he is strong, +healthy, and willing to work. Would you not rather have him than a kid +that gets seasick and can’t do anything but wash dishes?” It was +letters of this sort that I hated to decline. The writer of it, +self-taught in English, had been only two years in the United States, +and, as he said, “I am not wishing to go with you to earn my living, +but I wish to learn and see.” At the time of writing to me he was a +designer for one of the big motor manufacturing companies; he had been +to sea quite a bit, and had been used all his life to the handling of +small boats. + +“I have a good position, but it matters not so with me as I prefer +travelling,” wrote another. “As to salary, look at me, and if I am +worth a dollar or two, all right, and if I am not, nothing said. As to +my honesty and character, I shall be pleased to show you my employers. +Never drink, no tobacco, but to be honest, I myself, after a little +more experience, want to do a little writing.” + +“I can assure you that I am eminently respectable, but find other +respectable people tiresome.” The man who wrote the foregoing certainly +had me guessing, and I am still wondering whether or not he’d have +found me tiresome, or what the deuce he did mean. + +“I have seen better days than what I am passing through to-day,” wrote +an old salt, “but I have seen them a great deal worse also.” + +But the willingness to sacrifice on the part of the man who wrote the +following was so touching that I could not accept: “I have a father, a +mother, brothers and sisters, dear friends and a lucrative position, +and yet I will sacrifice all to become one of your crew.” + +Another volunteer I could never have accepted was the finicky young +fellow who, to show me how necessary it was that I should give him a +chance, pointed out that “to go in the ordinary boat, be it schooner or +steamer, would be impracticable, for I would have to mix among and live +with the ordinary type of seamen, which as a rule is not a clean sort +of life.” + +Then there was the young fellow of twenty-six, who had “run through the +gamut of human emotions,” and had “done everything from cooking to +attending Stanford University,” and who, at the present writing, was “A +vaquero on a fifty-five-thousand-acre range.” Quite in contrast was the +modesty of the one who said, “I am not aware of possessing any +particular qualities that would be likely to recommend me to your +consideration. But should you be impressed, you might consider it worth +a few minutes’ time to answer. Otherwise, there’s always work at the +trade. Not expecting, but hoping, I remain, etc.” + +But I have held my head in both my hands ever since, trying to figure +out the intellectual kinship between myself and the one who wrote: +“Long before I knew of you, I had mixed political economy and history +and deducted therefrom many of your conclusions in concrete.” + +Here, in its way, is one of the best, as it is the briefest, that I +received: “If any of the present company signed on for cruise happens +to get cold feet and you need one more who understands boating, +engines, etc., would like to hear from you, etc.” Here is another brief +one: “Point blank, would like to have the job of cabin-boy on your trip +around the world, or any other job on board. Am nineteen years old, +weigh one hundred and forty pounds, and am an American.” + +And here is a good one from a man a “little over five feet long”: “When +I read about your manly plan of sailing around the world in a small +boat with Mrs. London, I was so much rejoiced that I felt I was +planning it myself, and I thought to write you about filling either +position of cook or cabin-boy myself, but for some reason I did not do +it, and I came to Denver from Oakland to join my friend’s business last +month, but everything is worse and unfavourable. But fortunately you +have postponed your departure on account of the great earthquake, so I +finally decided to propose you to let me fill either of the positions. +I am not very strong, being a man of a little over five feet long, +although I am of sound health and capability.” + +“I think I can add to your outfit an additional method of utilizing the +power of the wind,” wrote a well-wisher, “which, while not interfering +with ordinary sails in light breezes, will enable you to use the whole +force of the wind in its mightiest blows, so that even when its force +is so great that you may have to take in every inch of canvas used in +the ordinary way, you may carry the fullest spread with my method. With +my attachment your craft could not be UPSET.” + +The foregoing letter was written in San Francisco under the date of +April 16, 1906. And two days later, on April 18, came the Great +Earthquake. And that’s why I’ve got it in for that earthquake, for it +made a refugee out of the man who wrote the letter, and prevented us +from ever getting together. + +Many of my brother socialists objected to my making the cruise, of +which the following is typical: “The Socialist Cause and the millions +of oppressed victims of Capitalism has a right and claim upon your life +and services. If, however, you persist, then, when you swallow the last +mouthful of salt chuck you can hold before sinking, remember that we at +least protested.” + +One wanderer over the world who “could, if opportunity afforded, +recount many unusual scenes and events,” spent several pages ardently +trying to get to the point of his letter, and at last achieved the +following: “Still I am neglecting the point I set out to write you +about. So will say at once that it has been stated in print that you +and one or two others are going to take a cruize around the world a +little fifty- or sixty-foot boat. I therefore cannot get myself to +think that a man of your attainments and experience would attempt such +a proceeding, which is nothing less than courting death in that way. +And even if you were to escape for some time, your whole Person, and +those with you would be bruised from the ceaseless motion of a craft of +the above size, even if she were padded, a thing not usual at sea.” +Thank you, kind friend, thank you for that qualification, “a thing not +usual at sea.” Nor is this friend ignorant of the sea. As he says of +himself, “I am not a land-lubber, and I have sailed every sea and +ocean.” And he winds up his letter with: “Although not wishing to +offend, it would be madness to take any woman outside the bay even, in +such a craft.” + +And yet, at the moment of writing this, Charmian is in her state-room +at the typewriter, Martin is cooking dinner, Tochigi is setting the +table, Roscoe and Bert are caulking the deck, and the _Snark_ is +steering herself some five knots an hour in a rattling good sea—and the +_Snark_ is not padded, either. + +“Seeing a piece in the paper about your intended trip, would like to +know if you would like a good crew, as there is six of us boys all good +sailor men, with good discharges from the Navy and Merchant Service, +all true Americans, all between the ages of 20 and 22, and at present +are employed as riggers at the Union Iron Works, and would like very +much to sail with you.”—It was letters like this that made me regret +the boat was not larger. + +And here writes the one woman in all the world—outside of Charmian—for +the cruise: “If you have not succeeded in getting a cook I would like +very much to take the trip in that capacity. I am a woman of fifty, +healthy and capable, and can do the work for the small company that +compose the crew of the _Snark_. I am a very good cook and a very good +sailor and something of a traveller, and the length of the voyage, if +of ten years’ duration, would suit me better than one. References, +etc.” + +Some day, when I have made a lot of money, I’m going to build a big +ship, with room in it for a thousand volunteers. They will have to do +all the work of navigating that boat around the world, or they’ll stay +at home. I believe that they’ll work the boat around the world, for I +know that Adventure is not dead. I know Adventure is not dead because I +have had a long and intimate correspondence with Adventure. + + + + +CHAPTER IV +FINDING ONE’S WAY ABOUT + + +“But,” our friends objected, “how dare you go to sea without a +navigator on board? You’re not a navigator, are you?” + +I had to confess that I was not a navigator, that I had never looked +through a sextant in my life, and that I doubted if I could tell a +sextant from a nautical almanac. And when they asked if Roscoe was a +navigator, I shook my head. Roscoe resented this. He had glanced at the +“Epitome,” bought for our voyage, knew how to use logarithm tables, had +seen a sextant at some time, and, what of this and of his seafaring +ancestry, he concluded that he did know navigation. But Roscoe was +wrong, I still insist. When a young boy he came from Maine to +California by way of the Isthmus of Panama, and that was the only time +in his life that he was out of sight of land. He had never gone to a +school of navigation, nor passed an examination in the same; nor had he +sailed the deep sea and learned the art from some other navigator. He +was a San Francisco Bay yachtsman, where land is always only several +miles away and the art of navigation is never employed. + +So the _Snark_ started on her long voyage without a navigator. We beat +through the Golden Gate on April 23, and headed for the Hawaiian +Islands, twenty-one hundred sea-miles away as the gull flies. And the +outcome was our justification. We arrived. And we arrived, furthermore, +without any trouble, as you shall see; that is, without any trouble to +amount to anything. To begin with, Roscoe tackled the navigating. He +had the theory all right, but it was the first time he had ever applied +it, as was evidenced by the erratic behaviour of the _Snark_. Not but +what the _Snark_ was perfectly steady on the sea; the pranks she cut +were on the chart. On a day with a light breeze she would make a jump +on the chart that advertised “a wet sail and a flowing sheet,” and on a +day when she just raced over the ocean, she scarcely changed her +position on the chart. Now when one’s boat has logged six knots for +twenty-four consecutive hours, it is incontestable that she has covered +one hundred and forty-four miles of ocean. The ocean was all right, and +so was the patent log; as for speed, one saw it with his own eyes. +Therefore the thing that was not all right was the figuring that +refused to boost the _Snark_ along over the chart. Not that this +happened every day, but that it did happen. And it was perfectly proper +and no more than was to be expected from a first attempt at applying a +theory. + +The acquisition of the knowledge of navigation has a strange effect on +the minds of men. The average navigator speaks of navigation with deep +respect. To the layman navigation is a deed and awful mystery, which +feeling has been generated in him by the deep and awful respect for +navigation that the layman has seen displayed by navigators. I have +known frank, ingenuous, and modest young men, open as the day, to learn +navigation and at once betray secretiveness, reserve, and +self-importance as if they had achieved some tremendous intellectual +attainment. The average navigator impresses the layman as a priest of +some holy rite. With bated breath, the amateur yachtsman navigator +invites one in to look at his chronometer. And so it was that our +friends suffered such apprehension at our sailing without a navigator. + +During the building of the _Snark_, Roscoe and I had an agreement, +something like this: “I’ll furnish the books and instruments,” I said, +“and do you study up navigation now. I’ll be too busy to do any +studying. Then, when we get to sea, you can teach me what you have +learned.” Roscoe was delighted. Furthermore, Roscoe was as frank and +ingenuous and modest as the young men I have described. But when we got +out to sea and he began to practise the holy rite, while I looked on +admiringly, a change, subtle and distinctive, marked his bearing. When +he shot the sun at noon, the glow of achievement wrapped him in lambent +flame. When he went below, figured out his observation, and then +returned on deck and announced our latitude and longitude, there was an +authoritative ring in his voice that was new to all of us. But that was +not the worst of it. He became filled with incommunicable information. +And the more he discovered the reasons for the erratic jumps of the +_Snark_ over the chart, and the less the _Snark_ jumped, the more +incommunicable and holy and awful became his information. My mild +suggestions that it was about time that I began to learn, met with no +hearty response, with no offers on his part to help me. He displayed +not the slightest intention of living up to our agreement. + +Now this was not Roscoe’s fault; he could not help it. He had merely +gone the way of all the men who learned navigation before him. By an +understandable and forgivable confusion of values, plus a loss of +orientation, he felt weighted by responsibility, and experienced the +possession of power that was like unto that of a god. All his life +Roscoe had lived on land, and therefore in sight of land. Being +constantly in sight of land, with landmarks to guide him, he had +managed, with occasional difficulties, to steer his body around and +about the earth. Now he found himself on the sea, wide-stretching, +bounded only by the eternal circle of the sky. This circle looked +always the same. There were no landmarks. The sun rose to the east and +set to the west and the stars wheeled through the night. But who may +look at the sun or the stars and say, “My place on the face of the +earth at the present moment is four and three-quarter miles to the west +of Jones’s Cash Store of Smithersville”? or “I know where I am now, for +the Little Dipper informs me that Boston is three miles away on the +second turning to the right”? And yet that was precisely what Roscoe +did. That he was astounded by the achievement, is putting it mildly. He +stood in reverential awe of himself; he had performed a miraculous +feat. The act of finding himself on the face of the waters became a +rite, and he felt himself a superior being to the rest of us who knew +not this rite and were dependent on him for being shepherded across the +heaving and limitless waste, the briny highroad that connects the +continents and whereon there are no mile-stones. So, with the sextant +he made obeisance to the sun-god, he consulted ancient tomes and tables +of magic characters, muttered prayers in a strange tongue that sounded +like _Indexerrorparallaxrefraction_, made cabalistic signs on paper, +added and carried one, and then, on a piece of holy script called the +Grail—I mean the Chart—he placed his finger on a certain space +conspicuous for its blankness and said, “Here we are.” When we looked +at the blank space and asked, “And where is that?” he answered in the +cipher-code of the higher priesthood, “31-15-47 north, 133-5-30 west.” +And we said “Oh,” and felt mighty small. + +So I aver, it was not Roscoe’s fault. He was like unto a god, and he +carried us in the hollow of his hand across the blank spaces on the +chart. I experienced a great respect for Roscoe; this respect grew so +profound that had he commanded, “Kneel down and worship me,” I know +that I should have flopped down on the deck and yammered. But, one day, +there came a still small thought to me that said: “This is not a god; +this is Roscoe, a mere man like myself. What he has done, I can do. Who +taught him? Himself. Go you and do likewise—be your own teacher.” And +right there Roscoe crashed, and he was high priest of the _Snark_ no +longer. I invaded the sanctuary and demanded the ancient tomes and +magic tables, also the prayer-wheel—the sextant, I mean. + +And now, in simple language. I shall describe how I taught myself +navigation. One whole afternoon I sat in the cockpit, steering with one +hand and studying logarithms with the other. Two afternoons, two hours +each, I studied the general theory of navigation and the particular +process of taking a meridian altitude. Then I took the sextant, worked +out the index error, and shot the sun. The figuring from the data of +this observation was child’s play. In the “Epitome” and the “Nautical +Almanac” were scores of cunning tables, all worked out by +mathematicians and astronomers. It was like using interest tables and +lightning-calculator tables such as you all know. The mystery was +mystery no longer. I put my finger on the chart and announced that that +was where we were. I was right too, or at least I was as right as +Roscoe, who selected a spot a quarter of a mile away from mine. Even he +was willing to split the distance with me. I had exploded the mystery, +and yet, such was the miracle of it, I was conscious of new power in +me, and I felt the thrill and tickle of pride. And when Martin asked +me, in the same humble and respectful way I had previously asked +Roscoe, as to where we were, it was with exaltation and spiritual +chest-throwing that I answered in the cipher-code of the higher +priesthood and heard Martin’s self-abasing and worshipful “Oh.” As for +Charmian, I felt that in a new way I had proved my right to her; and I +was aware of another feeling, namely, that she was a most fortunate +woman to have a man like me. + +I couldn’t help it. I tell it as a vindication of Roscoe and all the +other navigators. The poison of power was working in me. I was not as +other men—most other men; I knew what they did not know,—the mystery of +the heavens, that pointed out the way across the deep. And the taste of +power I had received drove me on. I steered at the wheel long hours +with one hand, and studied mystery with the other. By the end of the +week, teaching myself, I was able to do divers things. For instance, I +shot the North Star, at night, of course; got its altitude, corrected +for index error, dip, etc., and found our latitude. And this latitude +agreed with the latitude of the previous noon corrected by dead +reckoning up to that moment. Proud? Well, I was even prouder with my +next miracle. I was going to turn in at nine o’clock. I worked out the +problem, self-instructed, and learned what star of the first magnitude +would be passing the meridian around half-past eight. This star proved +to be Alpha Crucis. I had never heard of the star before. I looked it +up on the star map. It was one of the stars of the Southern Cross. +What! thought I; have we been sailing with the Southern Cross in the +sky of nights and never known it? Dolts that we are! Gudgeons and +moles! I couldn’t believe it. I went over the problem again, and +verified it. Charmian had the wheel from eight till ten that evening. I +told her to keep her eyes open and look due south for the Southern +Cross. And when the stars came out, there shone the Southern Cross low +on the horizon. Proud? No medicine man nor high priest was ever +prouder. Furthermore, with the prayer-wheel I shot Alpha Crucis and +from its altitude worked out our latitude. And still furthermore, I +shot the North Star, too, and it agreed with what had been told me by +the Southern Cross. Proud? Why, the language of the stars was mine, and +I listened and heard them telling me my way over the deep. + +Proud? I was a worker of miracles. I forgot how easily I had taught +myself from the printed page. I forgot that all the work (and a +tremendous work, too) had been done by the masterminds before me, the +astronomers and mathematicians, who had discovered and elaborated the +whole science of navigation and made the tables in the “Epitome.” I +remembered only the everlasting miracle of it—that I had listened to +the voices of the stars and been told my place upon the highway of the +sea. Charmian did not know, Martin did not know, Tochigi, the +cabin-boy, did not know. But I told them. I was God’s messenger. I +stood between them and infinity. I translated the high celestial speech +into terms of their ordinary understanding. We were heaven-directed, +and it was I who could read the sign-post of the sky!—I! I! + +And now, in a cooler moment, I hasten to blab the whole simplicity of +it, to blab on Roscoe and the other navigators and the rest of the +priesthood, all for fear that I may become even as they, secretive, +immodest, and inflated with self-esteem. And I want to say this now: +any young fellow with ordinary gray matter, ordinary education, and +with the slightest trace of the student-mind, can get the books, and +charts, and instruments and teach himself navigation. Now I must not be +misunderstood. Seamanship is an entirely different matter. It is not +learned in a day, nor in many days; it requires years. Also, navigating +by dead reckoning requires long study and practice. But navigating by +observations of the sun, moon, and stars, thanks to the astronomers and +mathematicians, is child’s play. Any average young fellow can teach +himself in a week. And yet again I must not be misunderstood. I do not +mean to say that at the end of a week a young fellow could take charge +of a fifteen-thousand-ton steamer, driving twenty knots an hour through +the brine, racing from land to land, fair weather and foul, clear sky +or cloudy, steering by degrees on the compass card and making landfalls +with most amazing precision. But what I do mean is just this: the +average young fellow I have described can get into a staunch sail-boat +and put out across the ocean, without knowing anything about +navigation, and at the end of the week he will know enough to know +where he is on the chart. He will be able to take a meridian +observation with fair accuracy, and from that observation, with ten +minutes of figuring, work out his latitude and longitude. And, carrying +neither freight nor passengers, being under no press to reach his +destination, he can jog comfortably along, and if at any time he doubts +his own navigation and fears an imminent landfall, he can heave to all +night and proceed in the morning. + +Joshua Slocum sailed around the world a few years ago in a +thirty-seven-foot boat all by himself. I shall never forget, in his +narrative of the voyage, where he heartily indorsed the idea of young +men, in similar small boats, making similar voyage. I promptly indorsed +his idea, and so heartily that I took my wife along. While it certainly +makes a Cook’s tour look like thirty cents, on top of that, amid on top +of the fun and pleasure, it is a splendid education for a young man—oh, +not a mere education in the things of the world outside, of lands, and +peoples, and climates, but an education in the world inside, an +education in one’s self, a chance to learn one’s own self, to get on +speaking terms with one’s soul. Then there is the training and the +disciplining of it. First, naturally, the young fellow will learn his +limitations; and next, inevitably, he will proceed to press back those +limitations. And he cannot escape returning from such a voyage a bigger +and better man. And as for sport, it is a king’s sport, taking one’s +self around the world, doing it with one’s own hands, depending on no +one but one’s self, and at the end, back at the starting-point, +contemplating with inner vision the planet rushing through space, and +saying, “I did it; with my own hands I did it. I went clear around that +whirling sphere, and I can travel alone, without any nurse of a +sea-captain to guide my steps across the seas. I may not fly to other +stars, but of this star I myself am master.” + +As I write these lines I lift my eyes and look seaward. I am on the +beach of Waikiki on the island of Oahu. Far, in the azure sky, the +trade-wind clouds drift low over the blue-green turquoise of the deep +sea. Nearer, the sea is emerald and light olive-green. Then comes the +reef, where the water is all slaty purple flecked with red. Still +nearer are brighter greens and tans, lying in alternate stripes and +showing where sandbeds lie between the living coral banks. Through and +over and out of these wonderful colours tumbles and thunders a +magnificent surf. As I say, I lift my eyes to all this, and through the +white crest of a breaker suddenly appears a dark figure, erect, a +man-fish or a sea-god, on the very forward face of the crest where the +top falls over and down, driving in toward shore, buried to his loins +in smoking spray, caught up by the sea and flung landward, bodily, a +quarter of a mile. It is a Kanaka on a surf-board. And I know that when +I have finished these lines I shall be out in that riot of colour and +pounding surf, trying to bit those breakers even as he, and failing as +he never failed, but living life as the best of us may live it. And the +picture of that coloured sea and that flying sea-god Kanaka becomes +another reason for the young man to go west, and farther west, beyond +the Baths of Sunset, and still west till he arrives home again. + +But to return. Please do not think that I already know it all. I know +only the rudiments of navigation. There is a vast deal yet for me to +learn. On the _Snark_ there is a score of fascinating books on +navigation waiting for me. There is the danger-angle of Lecky, there is +the line of Sumner, which, when you know least of all where you are, +shows most conclusively where you are, and where you are not. There are +dozens and dozens of methods of finding one’s location on the deep, and +one can work years before he masters it all in all its fineness. + +Even in the little we did learn there were slips that accounted for the +apparently antic behaviour of the _Snark_. On Thursday, May 16, for +instance, the trade wind failed us. During the twenty-four hours that +ended Friday at noon, by dead reckoning we had not sailed twenty miles. +Yet here are our positions, at noon, for the two days, worked out from +our observations: +Thursday +20° +57′ +9″ +N + +152° +40′ +30″ +W +Friday +21° +15′ +33″ +N + +154° +12′ + + + +The difference between the two positions was something like eighty +miles. Yet we knew we had not travelled twenty miles. Now our figuring +was all right. We went over it several times. What was wrong was the +observations we had taken. To take a correct observation requires +practice and skill, and especially so on a small craft like the +_Snark_. The violently moving boat and the closeness of the observer’s +eye to the surface of the water are to blame. A big wave that lifts up +a mile off is liable to steal the horizon away. + +But in our particular case there was another perturbing factor. The +sun, in its annual march north through the heavens, was increasing its +declination. On the 19th parallel of north latitude in the middle of +May the sun is nearly overhead. The angle of arc was between +eighty-eight and eighty-nine degrees. Had it been ninety degrees it +would have been straight overhead. It was on another day that we +learned a few things about taking the altitude of the almost +perpendicular sun. Roscoe started in drawing the sun down to the +eastern horizon, and he stayed by that point of the compass despite the +fact that the sun would pass the meridian to the south. I, on the other +hand, started in to draw the sun down to south-east and strayed away to +the south-west. You see, we were teaching ourselves. As a result, at +twenty-five minutes past twelve by the ship’s time, I called twelve +o’clock by the sun. Now this signified that we had changed our location +on the face of the world by twenty-five minutes, which was equal to +something like six degrees of longitude, or three hundred and fifty +miles. This showed the _Snark_ had travelled fifteen knots per hour for +twenty-four consecutive hours—and we had never noticed it! It was +absurd and grotesque. But Roscoe, still looking east, averred that it +was not yet twelve o’clock. He was bent on giving us a twenty-knot +clip. Then we began to train our sextants rather wildly all around the +horizon, and wherever we looked, there was the sun, puzzlingly close to +the sky-line, sometimes above it and sometimes below it. In one +direction the sun was proclaiming morning, in another direction it was +proclaiming afternoon. The sun was all right—we knew that; therefore we +were all wrong. And the rest of the afternoon we spent in the cockpit +reading up the matter in the books and finding out what was wrong. We +missed the observation that day, but we didn’t the next. We had +learned. + +And we learned well, better than for a while we thought we had. At the +beginning of the second dog-watch one evening, Charmian and I sat down +on the forecastle-head for a rubber of cribbage. Chancing to glance +ahead, I saw cloud-capped mountains rising from the sea. We were +rejoiced at the sight of land, but I was in despair over our +navigation. I thought we had learned something, yet our position at +noon, plus what we had run since, did not put us within a hundred miles +of land. But there was the land, fading away before our eyes in the +fires of sunset. The land was all right. There was no disputing it. +Therefore our navigation was all wrong. But it wasn’t. That land we saw +was the summit of Haleakala, the House of the Sun, the greatest extinct +volcano in the world. It towered ten thousand feet above the sea, and +it was all of a hundred miles away. We sailed all night at a seven-knot +clip, and in the morning the House of the Sun was still before us, and +it took a few more hours of sailing to bring it abreast of us. “That +island is Maui,” we said, verifying by the chart. “That next island +sticking out is Molokai, where the lepers are. And the island next to +that is Oahu. There is Makapuu Head now. We’ll be in Honolulu +to-morrow. Our navigation is all right.” + + + + +CHAPTER V +THE FIRST LANDFALL + + +“It will not be so monotonous at sea,” I promised my fellow-voyagers on +the _Snark_. “The sea is filled with life. It is so populous that every +day something new is happening. Almost as soon as we pass through the +Golden Gate and head south we’ll pick up with the flying fish. We’ll be +having them fried for breakfast. We’ll be catching bonita and dolphin, +and spearing porpoises from the bowsprit. And then there are the +sharks—sharks without end.” + +We passed through the Golden Gate and headed south. We dropped the +mountains of California beneath the horizon, and daily the surf grew +warmer. But there were no flying fish, no bonita and dolphin. The ocean +was bereft of life. Never had I sailed on so forsaken a sea. Always, +before, in the same latitudes, had I encountered flying fish. + +“Never mind,” I said. “Wait till we get off the coast of Southern +California. Then we’ll pick up the flying fish.” + +We came abreast of Southern California, abreast of the Peninsula of +Lower California, abreast of the coast of Mexico; and there were no +flying fish. Nor was there anything else. No life moved. As the days +went by the absence of life became almost uncanny. + +“Never mind,” I said. “When we do pick up with the flying fish we’ll +pick up with everything else. The flying fish is the staff of life for +all the other breeds. Everything will come in a bunch when we find the +flying fish.” + +When I should have headed the _Snark_ south-west for Hawaii, I still +held her south. I was going to find those flying fish. Finally the time +came when, if I wanted to go to Honolulu, I should have headed the +_Snark_ due west, instead of which I kept her south. Not until latitude +19° did we encounter the first flying fish. He was very much alone. I +saw him. Five other pairs of eager eyes scanned the sea all day, but +never saw another. So sparse were the flying fish that nearly a week +more elapsed before the last one on board saw his first flying fish. As +for the dolphin, bonita, porpoise, and all the other hordes of +life—there weren’t any. + +Not even a shark broke surface with his ominous dorsal fin. Bert took a +dip daily under the bowsprit, hanging on to the stays and dragging his +body through the water. And daily he canvassed the project of letting +go and having a decent swim. I did my best to dissuade him. But with +him I had lost all standing as an authority on sea life. + +“If there are sharks,” he demanded, “why don’t they show up?” + +I assured him that if he really did let go and have a swim the sharks +would promptly appear. This was a bluff on my part. I didn’t believe +it. It lasted as a deterrent for two days. The third day the wind fell +calm, and it was pretty hot. The _Snark_ was moving a knot an hour. +Bert dropped down under the bowsprit and let go. And now behold the +perversity of things. We had sailed across two thousand miles and more +of ocean and had met with no sharks. Within five minutes after Bert +finished his swim, the fin of a shark was cutting the surface in +circles around the _Snark_. + +There was something wrong about that shark. It bothered me. It had no +right to be there in that deserted ocean. The more I thought about it, +the more incomprehensible it became. But two hours later we sighted +land and the mystery was cleared up. He had come to us from the land, +and not from the uninhabited deep. He had presaged the landfall. He was +the messenger of the land. + +Twenty-seven days out from San Francisco we arrived at the island of +Oahu, Territory of Hawaii. In the early morning we drifted around +Diamond Head into full view of Honolulu; and then the ocean burst +suddenly into life. Flying fish cleaved the air in glittering +squadrons. In five minutes we saw more of them than during the whole +voyage. Other fish, large ones, of various sorts, leaped into the air. +There was life everywhere, on sea and shore. We could see the masts and +funnels of the shipping in the harbour, the hotels and bathers along +the beach at Waikiki, the smoke rising from the dwelling-houses high up +on the volcanic slopes of the Punch Bowl and Tantalus. The custom-house +tug was racing toward us and a big school of porpoises got under our +bow and began cutting the most ridiculous capers. The port doctor’s +launch came charging out at us, and a big sea turtle broke the surface +with his back and took a look at us. Never was there such a burgeoning +of life. Strange faces were on our decks, strange voices were speaking, +and copies of that very morning’s newspaper, with cable reports from +all the world, were thrust before our eyes. Incidentally, we read that +the _Snark_ and all hands had been lost at sea, and that she had been a +very unseaworthy craft anyway. And while we read this information a +wireless message was being received by the congressional party on the +summit of Haleakala announcing the safe arrival of the _Snark_. + +It was the _Snark’s_ first landfall—and such a landfall! For +twenty-seven days we had been on the deserted deep, and it was pretty +hard to realize that there was so much life in the world. We were made +dizzy by it. We could not take it all in at once. We were like awakened +Rip Van Winkles, and it seemed to us that we were dreaming. On one side +the azure sea lapped across the horizon into the azure sky; on the +other side the sea lifted itself into great breakers of emerald that +fell in a snowy smother upon a white coral beach. Beyond the beach, +green plantations of sugar-cane undulated gently upward to steeper +slopes, which, in turn, became jagged volcanic crests, drenched with +tropic showers and capped by stupendous masses of trade-wind clouds. At +any rate, it was a most beautiful dream. The _Snark_ turned and headed +directly in toward the emerald surf, till it lifted and thundered on +either hand; and on either hand, scarce a biscuit-toss away, the reef +showed its long teeth, pale green and menacing. + +Abruptly the land itself, in a riot of olive-greens of a thousand hues, +reached out its arms and folded the _Snark_ in. There was no perilous +passage through the reef, no emerald surf and azure sea—nothing but a +warm soft land, a motionless lagoon, and tiny beaches on which swam +dark-skinned tropic children. The sea had disappeared. The _Snark’s_ +anchor rumbled the chain through the hawse-pipe, and we lay without +movement on a “lineless, level floor.” It was all so beautiful and +strange that we could not accept it as real. On the chart this place +was called Pearl Harbour, but we called it Dream Harbour. + +A launch came off to us; in it were members of the Hawaiian Yacht Club, +come to greet us and make us welcome, with true Hawaiian hospitality, +to all they had. They were ordinary men, flesh and blood and all the +rest; but they did not tend to break our dreaming. Our last memories of +men were of United States marshals and of panicky little merchants with +rusty dollars for souls, who, in a reeking atmosphere of soot and +coal-dust, laid grimy hands upon the _Snark_ and held her back from her +world adventure. But these men who came to meet us were clean men. A +healthy tan was on their cheeks, and their eyes were not dazzled and +bespectacled from gazing overmuch at glittering dollar-heaps. No, they +merely verified the dream. They clinched it with their unsmirched +souls. + +So we went ashore with them across a level flashing sea to the +wonderful green land. We landed on a tiny wharf, and the dream became +more insistent; for know that for twenty-seven days we had been rocking +across the ocean on the tiny _Snark_. Not once in all those +twenty-seven days had we known a moment’s rest, a moment’s cessation +from movement. This ceaseless movement had become ingrained. Body and +brain we had rocked and rolled so long that when we climbed out on the +tiny wharf kept on rocking and rolling. This, naturally, we attributed +to the wharf. It was projected psychology. I spraddled along the wharf +and nearly fell into the water. I glanced at Charmian, and the way she +walked made me sad. The wharf had all the seeming of a ship’s deck. It +lifted, tilted, heaved and sank; and since there were no handrails on +it, it kept Charmian and me busy avoiding falling in. I never saw such +a preposterous little wharf. Whenever I watched it closely, it refused +to roll; but as soon as I took my attention off from it, away it went, +just like the _Snark_. Once, I caught it in the act, just as it +upended, and I looked down the length of it for two hundred feet, and +for all the world it was like the deck of a ship ducking into a huge +head-sea. + +At last, however, supported by our hosts, we negotiated the wharf and +gained the land. But the land was no better. The very first thing it +did was to tilt up on one side, and far as the eye could see I watched +it tilt, clear to its jagged, volcanic backbone, and I saw the clouds +above tilt, too. This was no stable, firm-founded land, else it would +not cut such capers. It was like all the rest of our landfall, unreal. +It was a dream. At any moment, like shifting vapour, it might dissolve +away. The thought entered my head that perhaps it was my fault, that my +head was swimming or that something I had eaten had disagreed with me. +But I glanced at Charmian and her sad walk, and even as I glanced I saw +her stagger and bump into the yachtsman by whose side she walked. I +spoke to her, and she complained about the antic behaviour of the land. + +We walked across a spacious, wonderful lawn and down an avenue of royal +palms, and across more wonderful lawn in the gracious shade of stately +trees. The air was filled with the songs of birds and was heavy with +rich warm fragrances—wafture from great lilies, and blazing blossoms of +hibiscus, and other strange gorgeous tropic flowers. The dream was +becoming almost impossibly beautiful to us who for so long had seen +naught but the restless, salty sea. Charmian reached out her hand and +clung to me—for support against the ineffable beauty of it, thought I. +But no. As I supported her I braced my legs, while the flowers and +lawns reeled and swung around me. It was like an earthquake, only it +quickly passed without doing any harm. It was fairly difficult to catch +the land playing these tricks. As long as I kept my mind on it, nothing +happened. But as soon as my attention was distracted, away it went, the +whole panorama, swinging and heaving and tilting at all sorts of +angles. Once, however, I turned my head suddenly and caught that +stately line of royal palms swinging in a great arc across the sky. But +it stopped, just as soon as I caught it, and became a placid dream +again. + +Next we came to a house of coolness, with great sweeping veranda, where +lotus-eaters might dwell. Windows and doors were wide open to the +breeze, and the songs and fragrances blew lazily in and out. The walls +were hung with tapa-cloths. Couches with grass-woven covers invited +everywhere, and there was a grand piano, that played, I was sure, +nothing more exciting than lullabies. Servants—Japanese maids in native +costume—drifted around and about, noiselessly, like butterflies. +Everything was preternaturally cool. Here was no blazing down of a +tropic sun upon an unshrinking sea. It was too good to be true. But it +was not real. It was a dream-dwelling. I knew, for I turned suddenly +and caught the grand piano cavorting in a spacious corner of the room. +I did not say anything, for just then we were being received by a +gracious woman, a beautiful Madonna, clad in flowing white and shod +with sandals, who greeted us as though she had known us always. + +We sat at table on the lotus-eating veranda, served by the butterfly +maids, and ate strange foods and partook of a nectar called poi. But +the dream threatened to dissolve. It shimmered and trembled like an +iridescent bubble about to break. I was just glancing out at the green +grass and stately trees and blossoms of hibiscus, when suddenly I felt +the table move. The table, and the Madonna across from me, and the +veranda of the lotus-eaters, the scarlet hibiscus, the greensward and +the trees—all lifted and tilted before my eyes, and heaved and sank +down into the trough of a monstrous sea. I gripped my chair +convulsively and held on. I had a feeling that I was holding on to the +dream as well as the chair. I should not have been surprised had the +sea rushed in and drowned all that fairyland and had I found myself at +the wheel of the _Snark_ just looking up casually from the study of +logarithms. But the dream persisted. I looked covertly at the Madonna +and her husband. They evidenced no perturbation. The dishes had not +moved upon the table. The hibiscus and trees and grass were still +there. Nothing had changed. I partook of more nectar, and the dream was +more real than ever. + +“Will you have some iced tea?” asked the Madonna; and then her side of +the table sank down gently and I said yes to her at an angle of +forty-five degrees. + +“Speaking of sharks,” said her husband, “up at Niihau there was a man—” +And at that moment the table lifted and heaved, and I gazed upward at +him at an angle of forty-five degrees. + +So the luncheon went on, and I was glad that I did not have to bear the +affliction of watching Charmian walk. Suddenly, however, a mysterious +word of fear broke from the lips of the lotus-eaters. “Ah, ah,” thought +I, “now the dream goes glimmering.” I clutched the chair desperately, +resolved to drag back to the reality of the _Snark_ some tangible +vestige of this lotus land. I felt the whole dream lurching and pulling +to be gone. Just then the mysterious word of fear was repeated. It +sounded like _Reporters_. I looked and saw three of them coming across +the lawn. Oh, blessed reporters! Then the dream was indisputably real +after all. I glanced out across the shining water and saw the _Snark_ +at anchor, and I remembered that I had sailed in her from San Francisco +to Hawaii, and that this was Pearl Harbour, and that even then I was +acknowledging introductions and saying, in reply to the first question, +“Yes, we had delightful weather all the way down.” + + + + +CHAPTER VI +A ROYAL SPORT + + +That is what it is, a royal sport for the natural kings of earth. The +grass grows right down to the water at Waikiki Beach, and within fifty +feet of the everlasting sea. The trees also grow down to the salty edge +of things, and one sits in their shade and looks seaward at a majestic +surf thundering in on the beach to one’s very feet. Half a mile out, +where is the reef, the white-headed combers thrust suddenly skyward out +of the placid turquoise-blue and come rolling in to shore. One after +another they come, a mile long, with smoking crests, the white +battalions of the infinite army of the sea. And one sits and listens to +the perpetual roar, and watches the unending procession, and feels tiny +and fragile before this tremendous force expressing itself in fury and +foam and sound. Indeed, one feels microscopically small, and the +thought that one may wrestle with this sea raises in one’s imagination +a thrill of apprehension, almost of fear. Why, they are a mile long, +these bull-mouthed monsters, and they weigh a thousand tons, and they +charge in to shore faster than a man can run. What chance? No chance at +all, is the verdict of the shrinking ego; and one sits, and looks, and +listens, and thinks the grass and the shade are a pretty good place in +which to be. + +And suddenly, out there where a big smoker lifts skyward, rising like a +sea-god from out of the welter of spume and churning white, on the +giddy, toppling, overhanging and downfalling, precarious crest appears +the dark head of a man. Swiftly he rises through the rushing white. His +black shoulders, his chest, his loins, his limbs—all is abruptly +projected on one’s vision. Where but the moment before was only the +wide desolation and invincible roar, is now a man, erect, +full-statured, not struggling frantically in that wild movement, not +buried and crushed and buffeted by those mighty monsters, but standing +above them all, calm and superb, poised on the giddy summit, his feet +buried in the churning foam, the salt smoke rising to his knees, and +all the rest of him in the free air and flashing sunlight, and he is +flying through the air, flying forward, flying fast as the surge on +which he stands. He is a Mercury—a brown Mercury. His heels are winged, +and in them is the swiftness of the sea. In truth, from out of the sea +he has leaped upon the back of the sea, and he is riding the sea that +roars and bellows and cannot shake him from its back. But no frantic +outreaching and balancing is his. He is impassive, motionless as a +statue carved suddenly by some miracle out of the sea’s depth from +which he rose. And straight on toward shore he flies on his winged +heels and the white crest of the breaker. There is a wild burst of +foam, a long tumultuous rushing sound as the breaker falls futile and +spent on the beach at your feet; and there, at your feet steps calmly +ashore a Kanaka, burnt, golden and brown by the tropic sun. Several +minutes ago he was a speck a quarter of a mile away. He has “bitted the +bull-mouthed breaker” and ridden it in, and the pride in the feat shows +in the carriage of his magnificent body as he glances for a moment +carelessly at you who sit in the shade of the shore. He is a Kanaka—and +more, he is a man, a member of the kingly species that has mastered +matter and the brutes and lorded it over creation. + +And one sits and thinks of Tristram’s last wrestle with the sea on that +fatal morning; and one thinks further, to the fact that that Kanaka has +done what Tristram never did, and that he knows a joy of the sea that +Tristram never knew. And still further one thinks. It is all very well, +sitting here in cool shade of the beach, but you are a man, one of the +kingly species, and what that Kanaka can do, you can do yourself. Go +to. Strip off your clothes that are a nuisance in this mellow clime. +Get in and wrestle with the sea; wing your heels with the skill and +power that reside in you; bit the sea’s breakers, master them, and ride +upon their backs as a king should. + +And that is how it came about that I tackled surf-riding. And now that +I have tackled it, more than ever do I hold it to be a royal sport. But +first let me explain the physics of it. A wave is a communicated +agitation. The water that composes the body of a wave does not move. If +it did, when a stone is thrown into a pond and the ripples spread away +in an ever widening circle, there would appear at the centre an ever +increasing hole. No, the water that composes the body of a wave is +stationary. Thus, you may watch a particular portion of the ocean’s +surface and you will see the same water rise and fall a thousand times +to the agitation communicated by a thousand successive waves. Now +imagine this communicated agitation moving shoreward. As the bottom +shoals, the lower portion of the wave strikes land first and is +stopped. But water is fluid, and the upper portion has not struck +anything, wherefore it keeps on communicating its agitation, keeps on +going. And when the top of the wave keeps on going, while the bottom of +it lags behind, something is bound to happen. The bottom of the wave +drops out from under and the top of the wave falls over, forward, and +down, curling and cresting and roaring as it does so. It is the bottom +of a wave striking against the top of the land that is the cause of all +surfs. + +But the transformation from a smooth undulation to a breaker is not +abrupt except where the bottom shoals abruptly. Say the bottom shoals +gradually for from quarter of a mile to a mile, then an equal distance +will be occupied by the transformation. Such a bottom is that off the +beach of Waikiki, and it produces a splendid surf-riding surf. One +leaps upon the back of a breaker just as it begins to break, and stays +on it as it continues to break all the way in to shore. + +And now to the particular physics of surf-riding. Get out on a flat +board, six feet long, two feet wide, and roughly oval in shape. Lie +down upon it like a small boy on a coaster and paddle with your hands +out to deep water, where the waves begin to crest. Lie out there +quietly on the board. Sea after sea breaks before, behind, and under +and over you, and rushes in to shore, leaving you behind. When a wave +crests, it gets steeper. Imagine yourself, on your hoard, on the face +of that steep slope. If it stood still, you would slide down just as a +boy slides down a hill on his coaster. “But,” you object, “the wave +doesn’t stand still.” Very true, but the water composing the wave +stands still, and there you have the secret. If ever you start sliding +down the face of that wave, you’ll keep on sliding and you’ll never +reach the bottom. Please don’t laugh. The face of that wave may be only +six feet, yet you can slide down it a quarter of a mile, or half a +mile, and not reach the bottom. For, see, since a wave is only a +communicated agitation or impetus, and since the water that composes a +wave is changing every instant, new water is rising into the wave as +fast as the wave travels. You slide down this new water, and yet remain +in your old position on the wave, sliding down the still newer water +that is rising and forming the wave. You slide precisely as fast as the +wave travels. If it travels fifteen miles an hour, you slide fifteen +miles an hour. Between you and shore stretches a quarter of mile of +water. As the wave travels, this water obligingly heaps itself into the +wave, gravity does the rest, and down you go, sliding the whole length +of it. If you still cherish the notion, while sliding, that the water +is moving with you, thrust your arms into it and attempt to paddle; you +will find that you have to be remarkably quick to get a stroke, for +that water is dropping astern just as fast as you are rushing ahead. + +And now for another phase of the physics of surf-riding. All rules have +their exceptions. It is true that the water in a wave does not travel +forward. But there is what may be called the send of the sea. The water +in the overtoppling crest does move forward, as you will speedily +realize if you are slapped in the face by it, or if you are caught +under it and are pounded by one mighty blow down under the surface +panting and gasping for half a minute. The water in the top of a wave +rests upon the water in the bottom of the wave. But when the bottom of +the wave strikes the land, it stops, while the top goes on. It no +longer has the bottom of the wave to hold it up. Where was solid water +beneath it, is now air, and for the first time it feels the grip of +gravity, and down it falls, at the same time being torn asunder from +the lagging bottom of the wave and flung forward. And it is because of +this that riding a surf-board is something more than a mere placid +sliding down a hill. In truth, one is caught up and hurled shoreward as +by some Titan’s hand. + +I deserted the cool shade, put on a swimming suit, and got hold of a +surf-board. It was too small a board. But I didn’t know, and nobody +told me. I joined some little Kanaka boys in shallow water, where the +breakers were well spent and small—a regular kindergarten school. I +watched the little Kanaka boys. When a likely-looking breaker came +along, they flopped upon their stomachs on their boards, kicked like +mad with their feet, and rode the breaker in to the beach. I tried to +emulate them. I watched them, tried to do everything that they did, and +failed utterly. The breaker swept past, and I was not on it. I tried +again and again. I kicked twice as madly as they did, and failed. Half +a dozen would be around. We would all leap on our boards in front of a +good breaker. Away our feet would churn like the stern-wheels of river +steamboats, and away the little rascals would scoot while I remained in +disgrace behind. + +I tried for a solid hour, and not one wave could I persuade to boost me +shoreward. And then arrived a friend, Alexander Hume Ford, a globe +trotter by profession, bent ever on the pursuit of sensation. And he +had found it at Waikiki. Heading for Australia, he had stopped off for +a week to find out if there were any thrills in surf-riding, and he had +become wedded to it. He had been at it every day for a month and could +not yet see any symptoms of the fascination lessening on him. He spoke +with authority. + +“Get off that board,” he said. “Chuck it away at once. Look at the way +you’re trying to ride it. If ever the nose of that board hits bottom, +you’ll be disembowelled. Here, take my board. It’s a man’s size.” + +I am always humble when confronted by knowledge. Ford knew. He showed +me how properly to mount his board. Then he waited for a good breaker, +gave me a shove at the right moment, and started me in. Ah, delicious +moment when I felt that breaker grip and fling me. + +On I dashed, a hundred and fifty feet, and subsided with the breaker on +the sand. From that moment I was lost. I waded back to Ford with his +board. It was a large one, several inches thick, and weighed all of +seventy-five pounds. He gave me advice, much of it. He had had no one +to teach him, and all that he had laboriously learned in several weeks +he communicated to me in half an hour. I really learned by proxy. And +inside of half an hour I was able to start myself and ride in. I did it +time after time, and Ford applauded and advised. For instance, he told +me to get just so far forward on the board and no farther. But I must +have got some farther, for as I came charging in to land, that +miserable board poked its nose down to bottom, stopped abruptly, and +turned a somersault, at the same time violently severing our relations. +I was tossed through the air like a chip and buried ignominiously under +the downfalling breaker. And I realized that if it hadn’t been for +Ford, I’d have been disembowelled. That particular risk is part of the +sport, Ford says. Maybe he’ll have it happen to him before he leaves +Waikiki, and then, I feel confident, his yearning for sensation will be +satisfied for a time. + +When all is said and done, it is my steadfast belief that homicide is +worse than suicide, especially if, in the former case, it is a woman. +Ford saved me from being a homicide. “Imagine your legs are a rudder,” +he said. “Hold them close together, and steer with them.” A few minutes +later I came charging in on a comber. As I neared the beach, there, in +the water, up to her waist, dead in front of me, appeared a woman. How +was I to stop that comber on whose back I was? It looked like a dead +woman. The board weighed seventy-five pounds, I weighed a hundred and +sixty-five. The added weight had a velocity of fifteen miles per hour. +The board and I constituted a projectile. I leave it to the physicists +to figure out the force of the impact upon that poor, tender woman. And +then I remembered my guardian angel, Ford. “Steer with your legs!” rang +through my brain. I steered with my legs, I steered sharply, abruptly, +with all my legs and with all my might. The board sheered around +broadside on the crest. Many things happened simultaneously. The wave +gave me a passing buffet, a light tap as the taps of waves go, but a +tap sufficient to knock me off the board and smash me down through the +rushing water to bottom, with which I came in violent collision and +upon which I was rolled over and over. I got my head out for a breath +of air and then gained my feet. There stood the woman before me. I felt +like a hero. I had saved her life. And she laughed at me. It was not +hysteria. She had never dreamed of her danger. Anyway, I solaced +myself, it was not I but Ford that saved her, and I didn’t have to feel +like a hero. And besides, that leg-steering was great. In a few minutes +more of practice I was able to thread my way in and out past several +bathers and to remain on top my breaker instead of going under it. + +“To-morrow,” Ford said, “I am going to take you out into the blue +water.” + +I looked seaward where he pointed, and saw the great smoking combers +that made the breakers I had been riding look like ripples. I don’t +know what I might have said had I not recollected just then that I was +one of a kingly species. So all that I did say was, “All right, I’ll +tackle them to-morrow.” + +The water that rolls in on Waikiki Beach is just the same as the water +that laves the shores of all the Hawaiian Islands; and in ways, +especially from the swimmer’s standpoint, it is wonderful water. It is +cool enough to be comfortable, while it is warm enough to permit a +swimmer to stay in all day without experiencing a chill. Under the sun +or the stars, at high noon or at midnight, in midwinter or in +midsummer, it does not matter when, it is always the same +temperature—not too warm, not too cold, just right. It is wonderful +water, salt as old ocean itself, pure and crystal-clear. When the +nature of the water is considered, it is not so remarkable after all +that the Kanakas are one of the most expert of swimming races. + +So it was, next morning, when Ford came along, that I plunged into the +wonderful water for a swim of indeterminate length. Astride of our +surf-boards, or, rather, flat down upon them on our stomachs, we +paddled out through the kindergarten where the little Kanaka boys were +at play. Soon we were out in deep water where the big smokers came +roaring in. The mere struggle with them, facing them and paddling +seaward over them and through them, was sport enough in itself. One had +to have his wits about him, for it was a battle in which mighty blows +were struck, on one side, and in which cunning was used on the other +side—a struggle between insensate force and intelligence. I soon +learned a bit. When a breaker curled over my head, for a swift instant +I could see the light of day through its emerald body; then down would +go my head, and I would clutch the board with all my strength. Then +would come the blow, and to the onlooker on shore I would be blotted +out. In reality the board and I have passed through the crest and +emerged in the respite of the other side. I should not recommend those +smashing blows to an invalid or delicate person. There is weight behind +them, and the impact of the driven water is like a sandblast. Sometimes +one passes through half a dozen combers in quick succession, and it is +just about that time that he is liable to discover new merits in the +stable land and new reasons for being on shore. + +Out there in the midst of such a succession of big smoky ones, a third +man was added to our party, one Freeth. Shaking the water from my eyes +as I emerged from one wave and peered ahead to see what the next one +looked like, I saw him tearing in on the back of it, standing upright +on his board, carelessly poised, a young god bronzed with sunburn. We +went through the wave on the back of which he rode. Ford called to him. +He turned an airspring from his wave, rescued his board from its maw, +paddled over to us and joined Ford in showing me things. One thing in +particular I learned from Freeth, namely, how to encounter the +occasional breaker of exceptional size that rolled in. Such breakers +were really ferocious, and it was unsafe to meet them on top of the +board. But Freeth showed me, so that whenever I saw one of that calibre +rolling down on me, I slid off the rear end of the board and dropped +down beneath the surface, my arms over my head and holding the board. +Thus, if the wave ripped the board out of my hands and tried to strike +me with it (a common trick of such waves), there would be a cushion of +water a foot or more in depth, between my head and the blow. When the +wave passed, I climbed upon the board and paddled on. Many men have +been terribly injured, I learn, by being struck by their boards. + +The whole method of surf-riding and surf-fighting, learned, is one of +non-resistance. Dodge the blow that is struck at you. Dive through the +wave that is trying to slap you in the face. Sink down, feet first, +deep under the surface, and let the big smoker that is trying to smash +you go by far overhead. Never be rigid. Relax. Yield yourself to the +waters that are ripping and tearing at you. When the undertow catches +you and drags you seaward along the bottom, don’t struggle against it. +If you do, you are liable to be drowned, for it is stronger than you. +Yield yourself to that undertow. Swim with it, not against it, and you +will find the pressure removed. And, swimming with it, fooling it so +that it does not hold you, swim upward at the same time. It will be no +trouble at all to reach the surface. + +The man who wants to learn surf-riding must be a strong swimmer, and he +must be used to going under the water. After that, fair strength and +common-sense are all that is required. The force of the big comber is +rather unexpected. There are mix-ups in which board and rider are torn +apart and separated by several hundred feet. The surf-rider must take +care of himself. No matter how many riders swim out with him, he cannot +depend upon any of them for aid. The fancied security I had in the +presence of Ford and Freeth made me forget that it was my first swim +out in deep water among the big ones. I recollected, however, and +rather suddenly, for a big wave came in, and away went the two men on +its back all the way to shore. I could have been drowned a dozen +different ways before they got back to me. + +One slides down the face of a breaker on his surf-board, but he has to +get started to sliding. Board and rider must be moving shoreward at a +good rate before the wave overtakes them. When you see the wave coming +that you want to ride in, you turn tail to it and paddle shoreward with +all your strength, using what is called the windmill stroke. This is a +sort of spurt performed immediately in front of the wave. If the board +is going fast enough, the wave accelerates it, and the board begins its +quarter-of-a-mile slide. + +I shall never forget the first big wave I caught out there in the deep +water. I saw it coming, turned my back on it and paddled for dear life. +Faster and faster my board went, till it seemed my arms would drop off. +What was happening behind me I could not tell. One cannot look behind +and paddle the windmill stroke. I heard the crest of the wave hissing +and churning, and then my board was lifted and flung forward. I +scarcely knew what happened the first half-minute. Though I kept my +eyes open, I could not see anything, for I was buried in the rushing +white of the crest. But I did not mind. I was chiefly conscious of +ecstatic bliss at having caught the wave. At the end of the +half-minute, however, I began to see things, and to breathe. I saw that +three feet of the nose of my board was clear out of water and riding on +the air. I shifted my weight forward, and made the nose come down. Then +I lay, quite at rest in the midst of the wild movement, and watched the +shore and the bathers on the beach grow distinct. I didn’t cover quite +a quarter of a mile on that wave, because, to prevent the board from +diving, I shifted my weight back, but shifted it too far and fell down +the rear slope of the wave. + +It was my second day at surf-riding, and I was quite proud of myself. I +stayed out there four hours, and when it was over, I was resolved that +on the morrow I’d come in standing up. But that resolution paved a +distant place. On the morrow I was in bed. I was not sick, but I was +very unhappy, and I was in bed. When describing the wonderful water of +Hawaii I forgot to describe the wonderful sun of Hawaii. It is a tropic +sun, and, furthermore, in the first part of June, it is an overhead +sun. It is also an insidious, deceitful sun. For the first time in my +life I was sunburned unawares. My arms, shoulders, and back had been +burned many times in the past and were tough; but not so my legs. And +for four hours I had exposed the tender backs of my legs, at +right-angles, to that perpendicular Hawaiian sun. It was not until +after I got ashore that I discovered the sun had touched me. Sunburn at +first is merely warm; after that it grows intense and the blisters come +out. Also, the joints, where the skin wrinkles, refuse to bend. That is +why I spent the next day in bed. I couldn’t walk. And that is why, +to-day, I am writing this in bed. It is easier to than not to. But +to-morrow, ah, to-morrow, I shall be out in that wonderful water, and I +shall come in standing up, even as Ford and Freeth. And if I fail +to-morrow, I shall do it the next day, or the next. Upon one thing I am +resolved: the _Snark_ shall not sail from Honolulu until I, too, wing +my heels with the swiftness of the sea, and become a sun-burned, +skin-peeling Mercury. + + + + +CHAPTER VII +THE LEPERS OF MOLOKAI + + +When the _Snark_ sailed along the windward coast of Molokai, on her way +to Honolulu, I looked at the chart, then pointed to a low-lying +peninsula backed by a tremendous cliff varying from two to four +thousand feet in height, and said: “The pit of hell, the most cursed +place on earth.” I should have been shocked, if, at that moment, I +could have caught a vision of myself a month later, ashore in the most +cursed place on earth and having a disgracefully good time along with +eight hundred of the lepers who were likewise having a good time. Their +good time was not disgraceful; but mine was, for in the midst of so +much misery it was not meet for me to have a good time. That is the way +I felt about it, and my only excuse is that I couldn’t help having a +good time. + +For instance, in the afternoon of the Fourth of July all the lepers +gathered at the race-track for the sports. I had wandered away from the +Superintendent and the physicians in order to get a snapshot of the +finish of one of the races. It was an interesting race, and +partisanship ran high. Three horses were entered, one ridden by a +Chinese, one by an Hawaiian, and one by a Portuguese boy. All three +riders were lepers; so were the judges and the crowd. The race was +twice around the track. The Chinese and the Hawaiian got away together +and rode neck and neck, the Portuguese boy toiling along two hundred +feet behind. Around they went in the same positions. Halfway around on +the second and final lap the Chinese pulled away and got one length +ahead of the Hawaiian. At the same time the Portuguese boy was +beginning to crawl up. But it looked hopeless. The crowd went wild. All +the lepers were passionate lovers of horseflesh. The Portuguese boy +crawled nearer and nearer. I went wild, too. They were on the home +stretch. The Portuguese boy passed the Hawaiian. There was a thunder of +hoofs, a rush of the three horses bunched together, the jockeys plying +their whips, and every last onlooker bursting his throat, or hers, with +shouts and yells. Nearer, nearer, inch by inch, the Portuguese boy +crept up, and passed, yes, passed, winning by a head from the Chinese. +I came to myself in a group of lepers. They were yelling, tossing their +hats, and dancing around like fiends. So was I. When I came to I was +waving my hat and murmuring ecstatically: “By golly, the boy wins! The +boy wins!” + +I tried to check myself. I assured myself that I was witnessing one of +the horrors of Molokai, and that it was shameful for me, under such +circumstances, to be so light-hearted and light-headed. But it was no +use. The next event was a donkey-race, and it was just starting; so was +the fun. The last donkey in was to win the race, and what complicated +the affair was that no rider rode his own donkey. They rode one +another’s donkeys, the result of which was that each man strove to make +the donkey he rode beat his own donkey ridden by some one else, +Naturally, only men possessing very slow or extremely obstreperous +donkeys had entered them for the race. One donkey had been trained to +tuck in its legs and lie down whenever its rider touched its sides with +his heels. Some donkeys strove to turn around and come back; others +developed a penchant for the side of the track, where they stuck their +heads over the railing and stopped; while all of them dawdled. Halfway +around the track one donkey got into an argument with its rider. When +all the rest of the donkeys had crossed the wire, that particular +donkey was still arguing. He won the race, though his rider lost it and +came in on foot. And all the while nearly a thousand lepers were +laughing uproariously at the fun. Anybody in my place would have joined +with them in having a good time. + +All the foregoing is by way of preamble to the statement that the +horrors of Molokai, as they have been painted in the past, do not +exist. The Settlement has been written up repeatedly by +sensationalists, and usually by sensationalists who have never laid +eyes on it. Of course, leprosy is leprosy, and it is a terrible thing; +but so much that is lurid has been written about Molokai that neither +the lepers, nor those who devote their lives to them, have received a +fair deal. Here is a case in point. A newspaper writer, who, of course, +had never been near the Settlement, vividly described Superintendent +McVeigh, crouching in a grass hut and being besieged nightly by +starving lepers on their knees, wailing for food. This hair-raising +account was copied by the press all over the United States and was the +cause of many indignant and protesting editorials. Well, I lived and +slept for five days in Mr. McVeigh’s “grass hut” (which was a +comfortable wooden cottage, by the way; and there isn’t a grass house +in the whole Settlement), and I heard the lepers wailing for food—only +the wailing was peculiarly harmonious and rhythmic, and it was +accompanied by the music of stringed instruments, violins, guitars, +_ukuleles_, and banjos. Also, the wailing was of various sorts. The +leper brass band wailed, and two singing societies wailed, and lastly a +quintet of excellent voices wailed. So much for a lie that should never +have been printed. The wailing was the serenade which the glee clubs +always give Mr. McVeigh when he returns from a trip to Honolulu. + +Leprosy is not so contagious as is imagined. I went for a week’s visit +to the Settlement, and I took my wife along—all of which would not have +happened had we had any apprehension of contracting the disease. Nor +did we wear long, gauntleted gloves and keep apart from the lepers. On +the contrary, we mingled freely with them, and before we left, knew +scores of them by sight and name. The precautions of simple cleanliness +seem to be all that is necessary. On returning to their own houses, +after having been among and handling lepers, the non-lepers, such as +the physicians and the superintendent, merely wash their faces and +hands with mildly antiseptic soap and change their coats. + +That a leper is unclean, however, should be insisted upon; and the +segregation of lepers, from what little is known of the disease, should +be rigidly maintained. On the other hand, the awful horror with which +the leper has been regarded in the past, and the frightful treatment he +has received, have been unnecessary and cruel. In order to dispel some +of the popular misapprehensions of leprosy, I want to tell something of +the relations between the lepers and non-lepers as I observed them at +Molokai. On the morning after our arrival Charmian and I attended a +shoot of the Kalaupapa Rifle Club, and caught our first glimpse of the +democracy of affliction and alleviation that obtains. The club was just +beginning a prize shoot for a cup put up by Mr. McVeigh, who is also a +member of the club, as also are Dr. Goodhue and Dr. Hollmann, the +resident physicians (who, by the way, live in the Settlement with their +wives). All about us, in the shooting booth, were the lepers. Lepers +and non-lepers were using the same guns, and all were rubbing shoulders +in the confined space. The majority of the lepers were Hawaiians. +Sitting beside me on a bench was a Norwegian. Directly in front of me, +in the stand, was an American, a veteran of the Civil War, who had +fought on the Confederate side. He was sixty-five years of age, but +that did not prevent him from running up a good score. Strapping +Hawaiian policemen, lepers, khaki-clad, were also shooting, as were +Portuguese, Chinese, and kokuas—the latter are native helpers in the +Settlement who are non-lepers. And on the afternoon that Charmian and I +climbed the two-thousand-foot _pali_ and looked our last upon the +Settlement, the superintendent, the doctors, and the mixture of +nationalities and of diseased and non-diseased were all engaged in an +exciting baseball game. + +Not so was the leper and his greatly misunderstood and feared disease +treated during the middle ages in Europe. At that time the leper was +considered legally and politically dead. He was placed in a funeral +procession and led to the church, where the burial service was read +over him by the officiating clergyman. Then a spadeful of earth was +dropped upon his chest and he was dead-living dead. While this rigorous +treatment was largely unnecessary, nevertheless, one thing was learned +by it. Leprosy was unknown in Europe until it was introduced by the +returning Crusaders, whereupon it spread slowly until it had seized +upon large numbers of the people. Obviously, it was a disease that +could be contracted by contact. It was a contagion, and it was equally +obvious that it could be eradicated by segregation. Terrible and +monstrous as was the treatment of the leper in those days, the great +lesson of segregation was learned. By its means leprosy was stamped +out. + +And by the same means leprosy is even now decreasing in the Hawaiian +Islands. But the segregation of the lepers on Molokai is not the +horrible nightmare that has been so often exploited by _yellow_ +writers. In the first place, the leper is not torn ruthlessly from his +family. When a suspect is discovered, he is invited by the Board of +Health to come to the Kalihi receiving station at Honolulu. His fare +and all expenses are paid for him. He is first passed upon by +microscopical examination by the bacteriologist of the Board of Health. +If the _bacillus lepræ_ is found, the patient is examined by the Board +of Examining Physicians, five in number. If found by them to be a +leper, he is so declared, which finding is later officially confirmed +by the Board of Health, and the leper is ordered straight to Molokai. +Furthermore, during the thorough trial that is given his case, the +patient has the right to be represented by a physician whom he can +select and employ for himself. Nor, after having been declared a leper, +is the patient immediately rushed off to Molokai. He is given ample +time, weeks, and even months, sometimes, during which he stays at +Kalihi and winds up or arranges all his business affairs. At Molokai, +in turn, he may be visited by his relatives, business agents, etc., +though they are not permitted to eat and sleep in his house. Visitors’ +houses, kept “clean,” are maintained for this purpose. + +I saw an illustration of the thorough trial given the suspect, when I +visited Kalihi with Mr. Pinkham, president of the Board of Health. The +suspect was an Hawaiian, seventy years of age, who for thirty-four +years had worked in Honolulu as a pressman in a printing office. The +bacteriologist had decided that he was a leper, the Examining Board had +been unable to make up its mind, and that day all had come out to +Kalihi to make another examination. + +When at Molokai, the declared leper has the privilege of +re-examination, and patients are continually coming back to Honolulu +for that purpose. The steamer that took me to Molokai had on board two +returning lepers, both young women, one of whom had come to Honolulu to +settle up some property she owned, and the other had come to Honolulu +to see her sick mother. Both had remained at Kalihi for a month. + +The Settlement of Molokai enjoys a far more delightful climate than +even Honolulu, being situated on the windward side of the island in the +path of the fresh north-east trades. The scenery is magnificent; on one +side is the blue sea, on the other the wonderful wall of the _pali_, +receding here and there into beautiful mountain valleys. Everywhere are +grassy pastures over which roam the hundreds of horses which are owned +by the lepers. Some of them have their own carts, rigs, and traps. In +the little harbour of Kalaupapa lie fishing boats and a steam launch, +all of which are privately owned and operated by lepers. Their bounds +upon the sea are, of course, determined: otherwise no restriction is +put upon their sea-faring. Their fish they sell to the Board of Health, +and the money they receive is their own. While I was there, one night’s +catch was four thousand pounds. + +And as these men fish, others farm. All trades are followed. One leper, +a pure Hawaiian, is the boss painter. He employs eight men, and takes +contracts for painting buildings from the Board of Health. He is a +member of the Kalaupapa Rifle Club, where I met him, and I must confess +that he was far better dressed than I. Another man, similarly situated, +is the boss carpenter. Then, in addition to the Board of Health store, +there are little privately owned stores, where those with shopkeeper’s +souls may exercise their peculiar instincts. The Assistant +Superintendent, Mr. Waiamau, a finely educated and able man, is a pure +Hawaiian and a leper. Mr. Bartlett, who is the present storekeeper, is +an American who was in business in Honolulu before he was struck down +by the disease. All that these men earn is that much in their own +pockets. If they do not work, they are taken care of anyway by the +territory, given food, shelter, clothes, and medical attendance. The +Board of Health carries on agriculture, stock-raising, and dairying, +for local use, and employment at fair wages is furnished to all that +wish to work. They are not compelled to work, however, for they are the +wards of the territory. For the young, and the very old, and the +helpless there are homes and hospitals. + +Major Lee, an American and long a marine engineer for the Inter Island +Steamship Company, I met actively at work in the new steam laundry, +where he was busy installing the machinery. I met him often, +afterwards, and one day he said to me: + +“Give us a good breeze about how we live here. For heaven’s sake write +us up straight. Put your foot down on this chamber-of-horrors rot and +all the rest of it. We don’t like being misrepresented. We’ve got some +feelings. Just tell the world how we really are in here.” + +Man after man that I met in the Settlement, and woman after woman, in +one way or another expressed the same sentiment. It was patent that +they resented bitterly the sensational and untruthful way in which they +have been exploited in the past. + +In spite of the fact that they are afflicted by disease, the lepers +form a happy colony, divided into two villages and numerous country and +seaside homes, of nearly a thousand souls. They have six churches, a +Young Men’s Christian Association building, several assembly halls, a +band stand, a race-track, baseball grounds, shooting ranges, an +athletic club, numerous glee clubs, and two brass bands. + +“They are so contented down there,” Mr. Pinkham told me, “that you +can’t drive them away with a shot-gun.” + +This I later verified for myself. In January of this year, eleven of +the lepers, on whom the disease, after having committed certain +ravages, showed no further signs of activity, were brought back to +Honolulu for re-examination. They were loath to come; and, on being +asked whether or not they wanted to go free if found clean of leprosy, +one and all answered, “Back to Molokai.” + +In the old days, before the discovery of the leprosy bacillus, a small +number of men and women, suffering from various and wholly different +diseases, were adjudged lepers and sent to Molokai. Years afterward +they suffered great consternation when the bacteriologists declared +that they were not afflicted with leprosy and never had been. They +fought against being sent away from Molokai, and in one way or another, +as helpers and nurses, they got jobs from the Board of Health and +remained. The present jailer is one of these men. Declared to be a +non-leper, he accepted, on salary, the charge of the jail, in order to +escape being sent away. + +At the present moment, in Honolulu, there is a bootblack. He is an +American negro. Mr. McVeigh told me about him. Long ago, before the +bacteriological tests, he was sent to Molokai as a leper. As a ward of +the state he developed a superlative degree of independence and +fomented much petty mischief. And then, one day, after having been for +years a perennial source of minor annoyances, the bacteriological test +was applied, and he was declared a non-leper. + +“Ah, ha!” chortled Mr. McVeigh. “Now I’ve got you! Out you go on the +next steamer and good riddance!” + +But the negro didn’t want to go. Immediately he married an old woman, +in the last stages of leprosy, and began petitioning the Board of +Health for permission to remain and nurse his sick wife. There was no +one, he said pathetically, who could take care of his poor wife as well +as he could. But they saw through his game, and he was deported on the +steamer and given the freedom of the world. But he preferred Molokai. +Landing on the leeward side of Molokai, he sneaked down the _pali_ one +night and took up his abode in the Settlement. He was apprehended, +tried and convicted of trespass, sentenced to pay a small fine, and +again deported on the steamer with the warning that if he trespassed +again, he would be fined one hundred dollars and be sent to prison in +Honolulu. And now, when Mr. McVeigh comes up to Honolulu, the bootblack +shines his shoes for him and says: + +“Say, Boss, I lost a good home down there. Yes, sir, I lost a good +home.” Then his voice sinks to a confidential whisper as he says, “Say, +Boss, can’t I go back? Can’t you fix it for me so as I can go back?” + +He had lived nine years on Molokai, and he had had a better time there +than he has ever had, before and after, on the outside. + +As regards the fear of leprosy itself, nowhere in the Settlement among +lepers, or non-lepers, did I see any sign of it. The chief horror of +leprosy obtains in the minds of those who have never seen a leper and +who do not know anything about the disease. At the hotel at Waikiki a +lady expressed shuddering amazement at my having the hardihood to pay a +visit to the Settlement. On talking with her I learned that she had +been born in Honolulu, had lived there all her life, and had never laid +eyes on a leper. That was more than I could say of myself in the United +States, where the segregation of lepers is loosely enforced and where I +have repeatedly seen lepers on the streets of large cities. + +Leprosy is terrible, there is no getting away from that; but from what +little I know of the disease and its degree of contagiousness, I would +by far prefer to spend the rest of my days in Molokai than in any +tuberculosis sanatorium. In every city and county hospital for poor +people in the United States, or in similar institutions in other +countries, sights as terrible as those in Molokai can be witnessed, and +the sum total of these sights is vastly more terrible. For that matter, +if it were given me to choose between being compelled to live in +Molokai for the rest of my life, or in the East End of London, the East +Side of New York, or the Stockyards of Chicago, I would select Molokai +without debate. I would prefer one year of life in Molokai to five +years of life in the above-mentioned cesspools of human degradation and +misery. + +In Molokai the people are happy. I shall never forget the celebration +of the Fourth of July I witnessed there. At six o’clock in the morning +the “horribles” were out, dressed fantastically, astride horses, mules, +and donkeys (their own property), and cutting capers all over the +Settlement. Two brass bands were out as well. Then there were the +_pa-u_ riders, thirty or forty of them, Hawaiian women all, superb +horsewomen dressed gorgeously in the old, native riding costume, and +dashing about in twos and threes and groups. In the afternoon Charmian +and I stood in the judge’s stand and awarded the prizes for +horsemanship and costume to the _pa-u_ riders. All about were the +hundreds of lepers, with wreaths of flowers on heads and necks and +shoulders, looking on and making merry. And always, over the brows of +hills and across the grassy level stretches, appearing and +disappearing, were the groups of men and women, gaily dressed, on +galloping horses, horses and riders flower-bedecked and +flower-garlanded, singing, and laughing, and riding like the wind. And +as I stood in the judge’s stand and looked at all this, there came to +my recollection the lazar house of Havana, where I had once beheld some +two hundred lepers, prisoners inside four restricted walls until they +died. No, there are a few thousand places I wot of in this world over +which I would select Molokai as a place of permanent residence. In the +evening we went to one of the leper assembly halls, where, before a +crowded audience, the singing societies contested for prizes, and where +the night wound up with a dance. I have seen the Hawaiians living in +the slums of Honolulu, and, having seen them, I can readily understand +why the lepers, brought up from the Settlement for re-examination, +shouted one and all, “Back to Molokai!” + +One thing is certain. The leper in the Settlement is far better off +than the leper who lies in hiding outside. Such a leper is a lonely +outcast, living in constant fear of discovery and slowly and surely +rotting away. The action of leprosy is not steady. It lays hold of its +victim, commits a ravage, and then lies dormant for an indeterminate +period. It may not commit another ravage for five years, or ten years, +or forty years, and the patient may enjoy uninterrupted good health. +Rarely, however, do these first ravages cease of themselves. The +skilled surgeon is required, and the skilled surgeon cannot be called +in for the leper who is in hiding. For instance, the first ravage may +take the form of a perforating ulcer in the sole of the foot. When the +bone is reached, necrosis sets in. If the leper is in hiding, he cannot +be operated upon, the necrosis will continue to eat its way up the bone +of the leg, and in a brief and horrible time that leper will die of +gangrene or some other terrible complication. On the other hand, if +that same leper is in Molokai, the surgeon will operate upon the foot, +remove the ulcer, cleanse the bone, and put a complete stop to that +particular ravage of the disease. A month after the operation the leper +will be out riding horseback, running foot races, swimming in the +breakers, or climbing the giddy sides of the valleys for mountain +apples. And as has been stated before, the disease, lying dormant, may +not again attack him for five, ten, or forty years. + +The old horrors of leprosy go back to the conditions that obtained +before the days of antiseptic surgery, and before the time when +physicians like Dr. Goodhue and Dr. Hollmann went to live at the +Settlement. Dr. Goodhue is the pioneer surgeon there, and too much +praise cannot be given him for the noble work he has done. I spent one +morning in the operating room with him and of the three operations he +performed, two were on men, newcomers, who had arrived on the same +steamer with me. In each case, the disease had attacked in one spot +only. One had a perforating ulcer in the ankle, well advanced, and the +other man was suffering from a similar affliction, well advanced, under +his arm. Both cases were well advanced because the man had been on the +outside and had not been treated. In each case. Dr. Goodhue put an +immediate and complete stop to the ravage, and in four weeks those two +men will be as well and able-bodied as they ever were in their lives. +The only difference between them and you or me is that the disease is +lying dormant in their bodies and may at any future time commit another +ravage. + +Leprosy is as old as history. References to it are found in the +earliest written records. And yet to-day practically nothing more is +known about it than was known then. This much was known then, namely, +that it was contagious and that those afflicted by it should be +segregated. The difference between then and now is that to-day the +leper is more rigidly segregated and more humanely treated. But leprosy +itself still remains the same awful and profound mystery. A reading of +the reports of the physicians and specialists of all countries reveals +the baffling nature of the disease. These leprosy specialists are +unanimous on no one phase of the disease. They do not know. In the past +they rashly and dogmatically generalized. They generalize no longer. +The one possible generalization that can be drawn from all the +investigation that has been made is that leprosy is _feebly +contagious_. But in what manner it is feebly contagious is not known. +They have isolated the bacillus of leprosy. They can determine by +bacteriological examination whether or not a person is a leper; but +they are as far away as ever from knowing how that bacillus finds its +entrance into the body of a non-leper. They do not know the length of +time of incubation. They have tried to inoculate all sorts of animals +with leprosy, and have failed. + +They are baffled in the discovery of a serum wherewith to fight the +disease. And in all their work, as yet, they have found no clue, no +cure. Sometimes there have been blazes of hope, theories of causation +and much heralded cures, but every time the darkness of failure +quenched the flame. A doctor insists that the cause of leprosy is a +long-continued fish diet, and he proves his theory voluminously till a +physician from the highlands of India demands why the natives of that +district should therefore be afflicted by leprosy when they have never +eaten fish, nor all the generations of their fathers before them. A man +treats a leper with a certain kind of oil or drug, announces a cure, +and five, ten, or forty years afterwards the disease breaks out again. +It is this trick of leprosy lying dormant in the body for indeterminate +periods that is responsible for many alleged cures. But this much is +certain: _as yet there has been no authentic case of a cure_. + +Leprosy is _feebly contagious_, but how is it contagious? An Austrian +physician has inoculated himself and his assistants with leprosy and +failed to catch it. But this is not conclusive, for there is the famous +case of the Hawaiian murderer who had his sentence of death commuted to +life imprisonment on his agreeing to be inoculated with the _bacillus +lepræ_. Some time after inoculation, leprosy made its appearance, and +the man died a leper on Molokai. Nor was this conclusive, for it was +discovered that at the time he was inoculated several members of his +family were already suffering from the disease on Molokai. He may have +contracted the disease from them, and it may have been well along in +its mysterious period of incubation at the time he was officially +inoculated. Then there is the case of that hero of the Church, Father +Damien, who went to Molokai a clean man and died a leper. There have +been many theories as to how he contracted leprosy, but nobody knows. +He never knew himself. But every chance that he ran has certainly been +run by a woman at present living in the Settlement; who has lived there +many years; who has had five leper husbands, and had children by them; +and who is to-day, as she always has been, free of the disease. + +As yet no light has been shed upon the mystery of leprosy. When more is +learned about the disease, a cure for it may be expected. Once an +efficacious serum is discovered, and leprosy, because it is so feebly +contagious, will pass away swiftly from the earth. The battle waged +with it will be short and sharp. In the meantime, how to discover that +serum, or some other unguessed weapon? In the present it is a serious +matter. It is estimated that there are half a million lepers, not +segregated, in India alone. Carnegie libraries, Rockefeller +universities, and many similar benefactions are all very well; but one +cannot help thinking how far a few thousands of dollars would go, say +in the leper Settlement of Molokai. The residents there are accidents +of fate, scapegoats to some mysterious natural law of which man knows +nothing, isolated for the welfare of their fellows who else might catch +the dread disease, even as they have caught it, nobody knows how. Not +for their sakes merely, but for the sake of future generations, a few +thousands of dollars would go far in a legitimate and scientific search +after a cure for leprosy, for a serum, or for some undreamed discovery +that will enable the medical world to exterminate the _bacillus lepræ_. +There’s the place for your money, you philanthropists. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII +THE HOUSE OF THE SUN + + +There are hosts of people who journey like restless spirits round and +about this earth in search of seascapes and landscapes and the wonders +and beauties of nature. They overrun Europe in armies; they can be met +in droves and herds in Florida and the West Indies, at the Pyramids, +and on the slopes and summits of the Canadian and American Rockies; but +in the House of the Sun they are as rare as live and wriggling +dinosaurs. Haleakala is the Hawaiian name for “the House of the Sun.” +It is a noble dwelling, situated on the Island of Maui; but so few +tourists have ever peeped into it, much less entered it, that their +number may be practically reckoned as zero. Yet I venture to state that +for natural beauty and wonder the nature-lover may see dissimilar +things as great as Haleakala, but no greater, while he will never see +elsewhere anything more beautiful or wonderful. Honolulu is six days’ +steaming from San Francisco; Maui is a night’s run on the steamer from +Honolulu; and six hours more if he is in a hurry, can bring the +traveller to Kolikoli, which is ten thousand and thirty-two feet above +the sea and which stands hard by the entrance portal to the House of +the Sun. Yet the tourist comes not, and Haleakala sleeps on in lonely +and unseen grandeur. + +Not being tourists, we of the _Snark_ went to Haleakala. On the slopes +of that monster mountain there is a cattle ranch of some fifty thousand +acres, where we spent the night at an altitude of two thousand feet. +The next morning it was boots and saddles, and with cow-boys and +packhorses we climbed to Ukulele, a mountain ranch-house, the altitude +of which, fifty-five hundred feet, gives a severely temperate climate, +compelling blankets at night and a roaring fireplace in the +living-room. Ukulele, by the way, is the Hawaiian for “jumping flea” as +it is also the Hawaiian for a certain musical instrument that may be +likened to a young guitar. It is my opinion that the mountain +ranch-house was named after the young guitar. We were not in a hurry, +and we spent the day at Ukulele, learnedly discussing altitudes and +barometers and shaking our particular barometer whenever any one’s +argument stood in need of demonstration. Our barometer was the most +graciously acquiescent instrument I have ever seen. Also, we gathered +mountain raspberries, large as hen’s eggs and larger, gazed up the +pasture-covered lava slopes to the summit of Haleakala, forty-five +hundred feet above us, and looked down upon a mighty battle of the +clouds that was being fought beneath us, ourselves in the bright +sunshine. + +Every day and every day this unending battle goes on. Ukiukiu is the +name of the trade-wind that comes raging down out of the north-east and +hurls itself upon Haleakala. Now Haleakala is so bulky and tall that it +turns the north-east trade-wind aside on either hand, so that in the +lee of Haleakala no trade-wind blows at all. On the contrary, the wind +blows in the counter direction, in the teeth of the north-east trade. +This wind is called Naulu. And day and night and always Ukiukiu and +Naulu strive with each other, advancing, retreating, flanking, curving, +curling, and turning and twisting, the conflict made visible by the +cloud-masses plucked from the heavens and hurled back and forth in +squadrons, battalions, armies, and great mountain ranges. Once in a +while, Ukiukiu, in mighty gusts, flings immense cloud-masses clear over +the summit of Haleakala; whereupon Naulu craftily captures them, lines +them up in new battle-formation, and with them smites back at his +ancient and eternal antagonist. Then Ukiukiu sends a great cloud-army +around the eastern-side of the mountain. It is a flanking movement, +well executed. But Naulu, from his lair on the leeward side, gathers +the flanking army in, pulling and twisting and dragging it, hammering +it into shape, and sends it charging back against Ukiukiu around the +western side of the mountain. And all the while, above and below the +main battle-field, high up the slopes toward the sea, Ukiukiu and Naulu +are continually sending out little wisps of cloud, in ragged skirmish +line, that creep and crawl over the ground, among the trees and through +the canyons, and that spring upon and capture one another in sudden +ambuscades and sorties. And sometimes Ukiukiu or Naulu, abruptly +sending out a heavy charging column, captures the ragged little +skirmishers or drives them skyward, turning over and over, in vertical +whirls, thousands of feet in the air. + +But it is on the western slopes of Haleakala that the main battle goes +on. Here Naulu masses his heaviest formations and wins his greatest +victories. Ukiukiu grows weak toward late afternoon, which is the way +of all trade-winds, and is driven backward by Naulu. Naulu’s +generalship is excellent. All day he has been gathering and packing +away immense reserves. As the afternoon draws on, he welds them into a +solid column, sharp-pointed, miles in length, a mile in width, and +hundreds of feet thick. This column he slowly thrusts forward into the +broad battle-front of Ukiukiu, and slowly and surely Ukiukiu, weakening +fast, is split asunder. But it is not all bloodless. At times Ukiukiu +struggles wildly, and with fresh accessions of strength from the +limitless north-east, smashes away half a mile at a time of Naulu’s +column and sweeps it off and away toward West Maui. Sometimes, when the +two charging armies meet end-on, a tremendous perpendicular whirl +results, the cloud-masses, locked together, mounting thousands of feet +into the air and turning over and over. A favourite device of Ukiukiu +is to send a low, squat formation, densely packed, forward along the +ground and under Naulu. When Ukiukiu is under, he proceeds to buck. +Naulu’s mighty middle gives to the blow and bends upward, but usually +he turns the attacking column back upon itself and sets it milling. And +all the while the ragged little skirmishers, stray and detached, sneak +through the trees and canyons, crawl along and through the grass, and +surprise one another with unexpected leaps and rushes; while above, far +above, serene and lonely in the rays of the setting sun, Haleakala +looks down upon the conflict. And so, the night. But in the morning, +after the fashion of trade-winds, Ukiukiu gathers strength and sends +the hosts of Naulu rolling back in confusion and rout. And one day is +like another day in the battle of the clouds, where Ukiukiu and Naulu +strive eternally on the slopes of Haleakala. + +Again in the morning, it was boots and saddles, cow-boys, and +packhorses, and the climb to the top began. One packhorse carried +twenty gallons of water, slung in five-gallon bags on either side; for +water is precious and rare in the crater itself, in spite of the fact +that several miles to the north and east of the crater-rim more rain +comes down than in any other place in the world. The way led upward +across countless lava flows, without regard for trails, and never have +I seen horses with such perfect footing as that of the thirteen that +composed our outfit. They climbed or dropped down perpendicular places +with the sureness and coolness of mountain goats, and never a horse +fell or baulked. + +There is a familiar and strange illusion experienced by all who climb +isolated mountains. The higher one climbs, the more of the earth’s +surface becomes visible, and the effect of this is that the horizon +seems up-hill from the observer. This illusion is especially notable on +Haleakala, for the old volcano rises directly from the sea without +buttresses or connecting ranges. In consequence, as fast as we climbed +up the grim slope of Haleakala, still faster did Haleakala, ourselves, +and all about us, sink down into the centre of what appeared a profound +abyss. Everywhere, far above us, towered the horizon. The ocean sloped +down from the horizon to us. The higher we climbed, the deeper did we +seem to sink down, the farther above us shone the horizon, and the +steeper pitched the grade up to that horizontal line where sky and +ocean met. It was weird and unreal, and vagrant thoughts of Simm’s Hole +and of the volcano through which Jules Verne journeyed to the centre of +the earth flitted through one’s mind. + +And then, when at last we reached the summit of that monster mountain, +which summit was like the bottom of an inverted cone situated in the +centre of an awful cosmic pit, we found that we were at neither top nor +bottom. Far above us was the heaven-towering horizon, and far beneath +us, where the top of the mountain should have been, was a deeper deep, +the great crater, the House of the Sun. Twenty-three miles around +stretched the dizzy walls of the crater. We stood on the edge of the +nearly vertical western wall, and the floor of the crater lay nearly +half a mile beneath. This floor, broken by lava-flows and cinder-cones, +was as red and fresh and uneroded as if it were but yesterday that the +fires went out. The cinder-cones, the smallest over four hundred feet +in height and the largest over nine hundred, seemed no more than puny +little sand-hills, so mighty was the magnitude of the setting. Two +gaps, thousands of feet deep, broke the rim of the crater, and through +these Ukiukiu vainly strove to drive his fleecy herds of trade-wind +clouds. As fast as they advanced through the gaps, the heat of the +crater dissipated them into thin air, and though they advanced always, +they got nowhere. + +It was a scene of vast bleakness and desolation, stern, forbidding, +fascinating. We gazed down upon a place of fire and earthquake. The +tie-ribs of earth lay bare before us. It was a workshop of nature still +cluttered with the raw beginnings of world-making. Here and there great +dikes of primordial rock had thrust themselves up from the bowels of +earth, straight through the molten surface-ferment that had evidently +cooled only the other day. It was all unreal and unbelievable. Looking +upward, far above us (in reality beneath us) floated the cloud-battle +of Ukiukiu and Naulu. And higher up the slope of the seeming abyss, +above the cloud-battle, in the air and sky, hung the islands of Lanai +and Molokai. Across the crater, to the south-east, still apparently +looking upward, we saw ascending, first, the turquoise sea, then the +white surf-line of the shore of Hawaii; above that the belt of +trade-clouds, and next, eighty miles away, rearing their stupendous +hulks out of the azure sky, tipped with snow, wreathed with cloud, +trembling like a mirage, the peaks of Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa hung +poised on the wall of heaven. + +It is told that long ago, one Maui, the son of Hina, lived on what is +now known as West Maui. His mother, Hina, employed her time in the +making of _kapas_. She must have made them at night, for her days were +occupied in trying to dry the _kapas_. Each morning, and all morning, +she toiled at spreading them out in the sun. But no sooner were they +out, than she began taking them in, in order to have them all under +shelter for the night. For know that the days were shorter then than +now. Maui watched his mother’s futile toil and felt sorry for her. He +decided to do something—oh, no, not to help her hang out and take in +the _kapas_. He was too clever for that. His idea was to make the sun +go slower. Perhaps he was the first Hawaiian astronomer. At any rate, +he took a series of observations of the sun from various parts of the +island. His conclusion was that the sun’s path was directly across +Haleakala. Unlike Joshua, he stood in no need of divine assistance. He +gathered a huge quantity of coconuts, from the fibre of which he +braided a stout cord, and in one end of which he made a noose, even as +the cow-boys of Haleakala do to this day. Next he climbed into the +House of the Sun and laid in wait. When the sun came tearing along the +path, bent on completing its journey in the shortest time possible, the +valiant youth threw his lariat around one of the sun’s largest and +strongest beams. He made the sun slow down some; also, he broke the +beam short off. And he kept on roping and breaking off beams till the +sun said it was willing to listen to reason. Maui set forth his terms +of peace, which the sun accepted, agreeing to go more slowly +thereafter. Wherefore Hina had ample time in which to dry her _kapas_, +and the days are longer than they used to be, which last is quite in +accord with the teachings of modern astronomy. + +We had a lunch of jerked beef and hard _poi_ in a stone corral, used of +old time for the night-impounding of cattle being driven across the +island. Then we skirted the rim for half a mile and began the descent +into the crater. Twenty-five hundred feet beneath lay the floor, and +down a steep slope of loose volcanic cinders we dropped, the +sure-footed horses slipping and sliding, but always keeping their feet. +The black surface of the cinders, when broken by the horses’ hoofs, +turned to a yellow ochre dust, virulent in appearance and acid of +taste, that arose in clouds. There was a gallop across a level stretch +to the mouth of a convenient blow-hole, and then the descent continued +in clouds of volcanic dust, winding in and out among cinder-cones, +brick-red, old rose, and purplish black of colour. Above us, higher and +higher, towered the crater-walls, while we journeyed on across +innumerable lava-flows, turning and twisting a devious way among the +adamantine billows of a petrified sea. Saw-toothed waves of lava vexed +the surface of this weird ocean, while on either hand arose jagged +crests and spiracles of fantastic shape. Our way led on past a +bottomless pit and along and over the main stream of the latest +lava-flow for seven miles. + +At the lower end of the crater was our camping spot, in a small grove +of _olapa_ and _kolea_ trees, tucked away in a corner of the crater at +the base of walls that rose perpendicularly fifteen hundred feet. Here +was pasturage for the horses, but no water, and first we turned aside +and picked our way across a mile of lava to a known water-hole in a +crevice in the crater-wall. The water-hole was empty. But on climbing +fifty feet up the crevice, a pool was found containing half a dozen +barrels of water. A pail was carried up, and soon a steady stream of +the precious liquid was running down the rock and filling the lower +pool, while the cow-boys below were busy fighting the horses back, for +there was room for one only to drink at a time. Then it was on to camp +at the foot of the wall, up which herds of wild goats scrambled and +blatted, while the tent arose to the sound of rifle-firing. Jerked +beef, hard _poi_, and broiled kid were the menu. Over the crest of the +crater, just above our heads, rolled a sea of clouds, driven on by +Ukiukiu. Though this sea rolled over the crest unceasingly, it never +blotted out nor dimmed the moon, for the heat of the crater dissolved +the clouds as fast as they rolled in. Through the moonlight, attracted +by the camp-fire, came the crater cattle to peer and challenge. They +were rolling fat, though they rarely drank water, the morning dew on +the grass taking its place. It was because of this dew that the tent +made a welcome bedchamber, and we fell asleep to the chanting of +_hulas_ by the unwearied Hawaiian cow-boys, in whose veins, no doubt, +ran the blood of Maui, their valiant forebear. + +The camera cannot do justice to the House of the Sun. The sublimated +chemistry of photography may not lie, but it certainly does not tell +all the truth. The Koolau Gap may be faithfully reproduced, just as it +impinged on the retina of the camera, yet in the resulting picture the +gigantic scale of things would be missing. Those walls that seem +several hundred feet in height are almost as many thousand; that +entering wedge of cloud is a mile and a half wide in the gap itself, +while beyond the gap it is a veritable ocean; and that foreground of +cinder-cone and volcanic ash, mushy and colourless in appearance, is in +truth gorgeous-hued in brick-red, terra-cotta rose, yellow ochre, and +purplish black. Also, words are a vain thing and drive to despair. To +say that a crater-wall is two thousand feet high is to say just +precisely that it is two thousand feet high; but there is a vast deal +more to that crater-wall than a mere statistic. The sun is ninety-three +millions of miles distant, but to mortal conception the adjoining +county is farther away. This frailty of the human brain is hard on the +sun. It is likewise hard on the House of the Sun. Haleakala has a +message of beauty and wonder for the human soul that cannot be +delivered by proxy. Kolikoli is six hours from Kahului; Kahului is a +night’s run from Honolulu; Honolulu is six days from San Francisco; and +there you are. + +We climbed the crater-walls, put the horses over impossible places, +rolled stones, and shot wild goats. I did not get any goats. I was too +busy rolling stones. One spot in particular I remember, where we +started a stone the size of a horse. It began the descent easy enough, +rolling over, wobbling, and threatening to stop; but in a few minutes +it was soaring through the air two hundred feet at a jump. It grew +rapidly smaller until it struck a slight slope of volcanic sand, over +which it darted like a startled jackrabbit, kicking up behind it a tiny +trail of yellow dust. Stone and dust diminished in size, until some of +the party said the stone had stopped. That was because they could not +see it any longer. It had vanished into the distance beyond their ken. +Others saw it rolling farther on—I know I did; and it is my firm +conviction that that stone is still rolling. + +Our last day in the crater, Ukiukiu gave us a taste of his strength. He +smashed Naulu back all along the line, filled the House of the Sun to +overflowing with clouds, and drowned us out. Our rain-gauge was a pint +cup under a tiny hole in the tent. That last night of storm and rain +filled the cup, and there was no way of measuring the water that +spilled over into the blankets. With the rain-gauge out of business +there was no longer any reason for remaining; so we broke camp in the +wet-gray of dawn, and plunged eastward across the lava to the Kaupo +Gap. East Maui is nothing more or less than the vast lava stream that +flowed long ago through the Kaupo Gap; and down this stream we picked +our way from an altitude of six thousand five hundred feet to the sea. +This was a day’s work in itself for the horses; but never were there +such horses. Safe in the bad places, never rushing, never losing their +heads, as soon as they found a trail wide and smooth enough to run on, +they ran. There was no stopping them until the trail became bad again, +and then they stopped of themselves. Continuously, for days, they had +performed the hardest kind of work, and fed most of the time on grass +foraged by themselves at night while we slept, and yet that day they +covered twenty-eight leg-breaking miles and galloped into Hana like a +bunch of colts. Also, there were several of them, reared in the dry +region on the leeward side of Haleakala, that had never worn shoes in +all their lives. Day after day, and all day long, unshod, they had +travelled over the sharp lava, with the extra weight of a man on their +backs, and their hoofs were in better condition than those of the shod +horses. + +The scenery between Vieiras’s (where the Kaupo Gap empties into the +sea) and Lana, which we covered in half a day, is well worth a week or +month; but, wildly beautiful as it is, it becomes pale and small in +comparison with the wonderland that lies beyond the rubber plantations +between Hana and the Honomanu Gulch. Two days were required to cover +this marvellous stretch, which lies on the windward side of Haleakala. +The people who dwell there call it the “ditch country,” an +unprepossessing name, but it has no other. Nobody else ever comes +there. Nobody else knows anything about it. With the exception of a +handful of men, whom business has brought there, nobody has heard of +the ditch country of Maui. Now a ditch is a ditch, assumably muddy, and +usually traversing uninteresting and monotonous landscapes. But the +Nahiku Ditch is not an ordinary ditch. The windward side of Haleakala +is serried by a thousand precipitous gorges, down which rush as many +torrents, each torrent of which achieves a score of cascades and +waterfalls before it reaches the sea. More rain comes down here than in +any other region in the world. In 1904 the year’s downpour was four +hundred and twenty inches. Water means sugar, and sugar is the backbone +of the territory of Hawaii, wherefore the Nahiku Ditch, which is not a +ditch, but a chain of tunnels. The water travels underground, appearing +only at intervals to leap a gorge, travelling high in the air on a +giddy flume and plunging into and through the opposing mountain. This +magnificent waterway is called a “ditch,” and with equal +appropriateness can Cleopatra’s barge be called a box-car. + +There are no carriage roads through the ditch country, and before the +ditch was built, or bored, rather, there was no horse-trail. Hundreds +of inches of rain annually, on fertile soil, under a tropic sun, means +a steaming jungle of vegetation. A man, on foot, cutting his way +through, might advance a mile a day, but at the end of a week he would +be a wreck, and he would have to crawl hastily back if he wanted to get +out before the vegetation overran the passage way he had cut. +O’Shaughnessy was the daring engineer who conquered the jungle and the +gorges, ran the ditch and made the horse-trail. He built enduringly, in +concrete and masonry, and made one of the most remarkable water-farms +in the world. Every little runlet and dribble is harvested and conveyed +by subterranean channels to the main ditch. But so heavily does it rain +at times that countless spillways let the surplus escape to the sea. + +The horse-trail is not very wide. Like the engineer who built it, it +dares anything. Where the ditch plunges through the mountain, it climbs +over; and where the ditch leaps a gorge on a flume, the horse-trail +takes advantage of the ditch and crosses on top of the flume. That +careless trail thinks nothing of travelling up or down the faces of +precipices. It gouges its narrow way out of the wall, dodging around +waterfalls or passing under them where they thunder down in white fury; +while straight overhead the wall rises hundreds of feet, and straight +beneath it sinks a thousand. And those marvellous mountain horses are +as unconcerned as the trail. They fox-trot along it as a matter of +course, though the footing is slippery with rain, and they will gallop +with their hind feet slipping over the edge if you let them. I advise +only those with steady nerves and cool heads to tackle the Nahiku Ditch +trail. One of our cow-boys was noted as the strongest and bravest on +the big ranch. He had ridden mountain horses all his life on the rugged +western slopes of Haleakala. He was first in the horse-breaking; and +when the others hung back, as a matter of course, he would go in to +meet a wild bull in the cattle-pen. He had a reputation. But he had +never ridden over the Nahiku Ditch. It was there he lost his +reputation. When he faced the first flume, spanning a hair-raising +gorge, narrow, without railings, with a bellowing waterfall above, +another below, and directly beneath a wild cascade, the air filled with +driving spray and rocking to the clamour and rush of sound and +motion—well, that cow-boy dismounted from his horse, explained briefly +that he had a wife and two children, and crossed over on foot, leading +the horse behind him. + +The only relief from the flumes was the precipices; and the only relief +from the precipices was the flumes, except where the ditch was far +under ground, in which case we crossed one horse and rider at a time, +on primitive log-bridges that swayed and teetered and threatened to +carry away. I confess that at first I rode such places with my feet +loose in the stirrups, and that on the sheer walls I saw to it, by a +definite, conscious act of will, that the foot in the outside stirrup, +overhanging the thousand feet of fall, was exceedingly loose. I say “at +first”; for, as in the crater itself we quickly lost our conception of +magnitude, so, on the Nahiku Ditch, we quickly lost our apprehension of +depth. The ceaseless iteration of height and depth produced a state of +consciousness in which height and depth were accepted as the ordinary +conditions of existence; and from the horse’s back to look sheer down +four hundred or five hundred feet became quite commonplace and +non-productive of thrills. And as carelessly as the trail and the +horses, we swung along the dizzy heights and ducked around or through +the waterfalls. + +And such a ride! Falling water was everywhere. We rode above the +clouds, under the clouds, and through the clouds! and every now and +then a shaft of sunshine penetrated like a search-light to the depths +yawning beneath us, or flashed upon some pinnacle of the crater-rim +thousands of feet above. At every turn of the trail a waterfall or a +dozen waterfalls, leaping hundreds of feet through the air, burst upon +our vision. At our first night’s camp, in the Keanae Gulch, we counted +thirty-two waterfalls from a single viewpoint. The vegetation ran riot +over that wild land. There were forests of koa and kolea trees, and +candlenut trees; and then there were the trees called ohia-ai, which +bore red mountain apples, mellow and juicy and most excellent to eat. +Wild bananas grew everywhere, clinging to the sides of the gorges, and, +overborne by their great bunches of ripe fruit, falling across the +trail and blocking the way. And over the forest surged a sea of green +life, the climbers of a thousand varieties, some that floated airily, +in lacelike filaments, from the tallest branches others that coiled and +wound about the trees like huge serpents; and one, the ei-ei, that was +for all the world like a climbing palm, swinging on a thick stem from +branch to branch and tree to tree and throttling the supports whereby +it climbed. Through the sea of green, lofty tree-ferns thrust their +great delicate fronds, and the lehua flaunted its scarlet blossoms. +Underneath the climbers, in no less profusion, grew the warm-coloured, +strangely-marked plants that in the United States one is accustomed to +seeing preciously conserved in hot-houses. In fact, the ditch country +of Maui is nothing more nor less than a huge conservatory. Every +familiar variety of fern flourishes, and more varieties that are +unfamiliar, from the tiniest maidenhair to the gross and voracious +staghorn, the latter the terror of the woodsmen, interlacing with +itself in tangled masses five or six feet deep and covering acres. + +Never was there such a ride. For two days it lasted, when we emerged +into rolling country, and, along an actual wagon-road, came home to the +ranch at a gallop. I know it was cruel to gallop the horses after such +a long, hard journey; but we blistered our hands in vain effort to hold +them in. That’s the sort of horses they grow on Haleakala. At the ranch +there was great festival of cattle-driving, branding, and +horse-breaking. Overhead Ukiukiu and Naulu battled valiantly, and far +above, in the sunshine, towered the mighty summit of Haleakala. + + + + +CHAPTER IX +A PACIFIC TRAVERSE + + +_Sandwich Islands to Tahiti_.—_There is great difficulty in making this +passage across the trades_. _The whalers and all others speak with +great doubt of fetching Tahiti from the Sandwich islands_. _Capt. Bruce +says that a vessel should keep to the northward until she gets a start +of wind before bearing for her destination_. _In his passage between +them in November_, 1837, _he had no variables near the line in coming +south_, _and never could make easting on either tack_, _though he +endeavoured by every means to do so_. + +So say the sailing directions for the South Pacific Ocean; and that is +all they say. There is not a word more to help the weary voyager in +making this long traverse—nor is there any word at all concerning the +passage from Hawaii to the Marquesas, which lie some eight hundred +miles to the northeast of Tahiti and which are the more difficult to +reach by just that much. The reason for the lack of directions is, I +imagine, that no voyager is supposed to make himself weary by +attempting so impossible a traverse. But the impossible did not deter +the _Snark_,—principally because of the fact that we did not read that +particular little paragraph in the sailing directions until after we +had started. We sailed from Hilo, Hawaii, on October 7, and arrived at +Nuka-hiva, in the Marquesas, on December 6. The distance was two +thousand miles as the crow flies, while we actually travelled at least +four thousand miles to accomplish it, thus proving for once and for +ever that the shortest distance between two points is not always a +straight line. Had we headed directly for the Marquesas, we might have +travelled five or six thousand miles. + +Upon one thing we were resolved: we would not cross the Line west of +130° west longitude. For here was the problem. To cross the Line to the +west of that point, if the southeast trades were well around to the +southeast, would throw us so far to leeward of the Marquesas that a +head-beat would be maddeningly impossible. Also, we had to remember the +equatorial current, which moves west at a rate of anywhere from twelve +to seventy-five miles a day. A pretty pickle, indeed, to be to leeward +of our destination with such a current in our teeth. No; not a minute, +nor a second, west of 130° west longitude would we cross the Line. But +since the southeast trades were to be expected five or six degrees +north of the Line (which, if they were well around to the southeast or +south-southeast, would necessitate our sliding off toward +south-southwest), we should have to hold to the eastward, north of the +Line, and north of the southeast trades, until we gained at least 128° +west longitude. + +I have forgotten to mention that the seventy-horse-power gasolene +engine, as usual, was not working, and that we could depend upon wind +alone. Neither was the launch engine working. And while I am about it, +I may as well confess that the five-horse-power, which ran the lights, +fans, and pumps, was also on the sick-list. A striking title for a book +haunts me, waking and sleeping. I should like to write that book some +day and to call it “Around the World with Three Gasolene Engines and a +Wife.” But I am afraid I shall not write it, for fear of hurting the +feelings of some of the young gentlemen of San Francisco, Honolulu, and +Hilo, who learned their trades at the expense of the _Snark’s_ engines. + +It looked easy on paper. Here was Hilo and there was our objective, +128° west longitude. With the northeast trade blowing we could travel a +straight line between the two points, and even slack our sheets off a +goodly bit. But one of the chief troubles with the trades is that one +never knows just where he will pick them up and just in what direction +they will be blowing. We picked up the northeast trade right outside of +Hilo harbour, but the miserable breeze was away around into the east. +Then there was the north equatorial current setting westward like a +mighty river. Furthermore, a small boat, by the wind and bucking into a +big headsea, does not work to advantage. She jogs up and down and gets +nowhere. Her sails are full and straining, every little while she +presses her lee-rail under, she flounders, and bumps, and splashes, and +that is all. Whenever she begins to gather way, she runs ker-chug into +a big mountain of water and is brought to a standstill. So, with the +_Snark_, the resultant of her smallness, of the trade around into the +east, and of the strong equatorial current, was a long sag south. Oh, +she did not go quite south. But the easting she made was distressing. +On October 11, she made forty miles easting; October 12, fifteen miles; +October 13, no easting; October 14, thirty miles; October 15, +twenty-three miles; October 16, eleven miles; and on October 17, she +actually went to the westward four miles. Thus, in a week she made one +hundred and fifteen miles easting, which was equivalent to sixteen +miles a day. But, between the longitude of Hilo and 128° west longitude +is a difference of twenty-seven degrees, or, roughly, sixteen hundred +miles. At sixteen miles a day, one hundred days would be required to +accomplish this distance. And even then, our objective, 128° west +longitude, was five degrees north of the Line, while Nuka-hiva, in the +Marquesas, lay nine degrees south of the Line and twelve degrees to the +west! + +There remained only one thing to do—to work south out of the trade and +into the variables. It is true that Captain Bruce found no variables on +his traverse, and that he “never could make easting on either tack.” It +was the variables or nothing with us, and we prayed for better luck +than he had had. The variables constitute the belt of ocean lying +between the trades and the doldrums, and are conjectured to be the +draughts of heated air which rise in the doldrums, flow high in the air +counter to the trades, and gradually sink down till they fan the +surface of the ocean where they are found. And they are found where +they are found; for they are wedged between the trades and the +doldrums, which same shift their territory from day to day and month to +month. + +We found the variables in 11° north latitude, and 11° north latitude we +hugged jealously. To the south lay the doldrums. To the north lay the +northeast trade that refused to blow from the northeast. The days came +and went, and always they found the _Snark_ somewhere near the eleventh +parallel. The variables were truly variable. A light head-wind would +die away and leave us rolling in a calm for forty-eight hours. Then a +light head-wind would spring up, blow for three hours, and leave us +rolling in another calm for forty-eight hours. Then—hurrah!—the wind +would come out of the west, fresh, beautifully fresh, and send the +_Snark_ along, wing and wing, her wake bubbling, the log-line straight +astern. At the end of half an hour, while we were preparing to set the +spinnaker, with a few sickly gasps the wind would die away. And so it +went. We wagered optimistically on every favourable fan of air that +lasted over five minutes; but it never did any good. The fans faded out +just the same. + +But there were exceptions. In the variables, if you wait long enough, +something is bound to happen, and we were so plentifully stocked with +food and water that we could afford to wait. On October 26, we actually +made one hundred and three miles of easting, and we talked about it for +days afterwards. Once we caught a moderate gale from the south, which +blew itself out in eight hours, but it helped us to seventy-one miles +of easting in that particular twenty-four hours. And then, just as it +was expiring, the wind came straight out from the north (the directly +opposite quarter), and fanned us along over another degree of easting. + +In years and years no sailing vessel has attempted this traverse, and +we found ourselves in the midst of one of the loneliest of the Pacific +solitudes. In the sixty days we were crossing it we sighted no sail, +lifted no steamer’s smoke above the horizon. A disabled vessel could +drift in this deserted expanse for a dozen generations, and there would +be no rescue. The only chance of rescue would be from a vessel like the +_Snark_, and the _Snark_ happened to be there principally because of +the fact that the traverse had been begun before the particular +paragraph in the sailing directions had been read. Standing upright on +deck, a straight line drawn from the eye to the horizon would measure +three miles and a half. Thus, seven miles was the diameter of the +circle of the sea in which we had our centre. Since we remained always +in the centre, and since we constantly were moving in some direction, +we looked upon many circles. But all circles looked alike. No tufted +islets, gray headlands, nor glistening patches of white canvas ever +marred the symmetry of that unbroken curve. Clouds came and went, +rising up over the rim of the circle, flowing across the space of it, +and spilling away and down across the opposite rim. + +The world faded as the procession of the weeks marched by. The world +faded until at last there ceased to be any world except the little +world of the _Snark_, freighted with her seven souls and floating on +the expanse of the waters. Our memories of the world, the great world, +became like dreams of former lives we had lived somewhere before we +came to be born on the _Snark_. After we had been out of fresh +vegetables for some time, we mentioned such things in much the same way +I have heard my father mention the vanished apples of his boyhood. Man +is a creature of habit, and we on the _Snark_ had got the habit of the +_Snark_. Everything about her and aboard her was as a matter of course, +and anything different would have been an irritation and an offence. + +There was no way by which the great world could intrude. Our bell rang +the hours, but no caller ever rang it. There were no guests to dinner, +no telegrams, no insistent telephone jangles invading our privacy. We +had no engagements to keep, no trains to catch, and there were no +morning newspapers over which to waste time in learning what was +happening to our fifteen hundred million other fellow-creatures. + +But it was not dull. The affairs of our little world had to be +regulated, and, unlike the great world, our world had to be steered in +its journey through space. Also, there were cosmic disturbances to be +encountered and baffled, such as do not afflict the big earth in its +frictionless orbit through the windless void. And we never knew, from +moment to moment, what was going to happen next. There were spice and +variety enough and to spare. Thus, at four in the morning, I relieve +Hermann at the wheel. + +“East-northeast,” he gives me the course. “She’s eight points off, but +she ain’t steering.” + +Small wonder. The vessel does not exist that can be steered in so +absolute a calm. + +“I had a breeze a little while ago—maybe it will come back again,” +Hermann says hopefully, ere he starts forward to the cabin and his +bunk. + +The mizzen is in and fast furled. In the night, what of the roll and +the absence of wind, it had made life too hideous to be permitted to go +on rasping at the mast, smashing at the tackles, and buffeting the +empty air into hollow outbursts of sound. But the big mainsail is still +on, and the staysail, jib, and flying-jib are snapping and slashing at +their sheets with every roll. Every star is out. Just for luck I put +the wheel hard over in the opposite direction to which it had been left +by Hermann, and I lean back and gaze up at the stars. There is nothing +else for me to do. There is nothing to be done with a sailing vessel +rolling in a stark calm. + +Then I feel a fan on my cheek, faint, so faint, that I can just sense +it ere it is gone. But another comes, and another, until a real and +just perceptible breeze is blowing. How the _Snark’s_ sails manage to +feel it is beyond me, but feel it they do, as she does as well, for the +compass card begins slowly to revolve in the binnacle. In reality, it +is not revolving at all. It is held by terrestrial magnetism in one +place, and it is the _Snark_ that is revolving, pivoted upon that +delicate cardboard device that floats in a closed vessel of alcohol. + +So the _Snark_ comes back on her course. The breath increases to a tiny +puff. The _Snark_ feels the weight of it and actually heels over a +trifle. There is flying scud overhead, and I notice the stars being +blotted out. Walls of darkness close in upon me, so that, when the last +star is gone, the darkness is so near that it seems I can reach out and +touch it on every side. When I lean toward it, I can feel it loom +against my face. Puff follows puff, and I am glad the mizzen is furled. +Phew! that was a stiff one! The _Snark_ goes over and down until her +lee-rail is buried and the whole Pacific Ocean is pouring in. Four or +five of these gusts make me wish that the jib and flying-jib were in. +The sea is picking up, the gusts are growing stronger and more +frequent, and there is a splatter of wet in the air. There is no use in +attempting to gaze to windward. The wall of blackness is within arm’s +length. Yet I cannot help attempting to see and gauge the blows that +are being struck at the _Snark_. There is something ominous and +menacing up there to windward, and I have a feeling that if I look long +enough and strong enough, I shall divine it. Futile feeling. Between +two gusts I leave the wheel and run forward to the cabin companionway, +where I light matches and consult the barometer. “29-90” it reads. That +sensitive instrument refuses to take notice of the disturbance which is +humming with a deep, throaty voice in the rigging. I get back to the +wheel just in time to meet another gust, the strongest yet. Well, +anyway, the wind is abeam and the _Snark_ is on her course, eating up +easting. That at least is well. + +The jib and flying-jib bother me, and I wish they were in. She would +make easier weather of it, and less risky weather likewise. The wind +snorts, and stray raindrops pelt like birdshot. I shall certainly have +to call all hands, I conclude; then conclude the next instant to hang +on a little longer. Maybe this is the end of it, and I shall have +called them for nothing. It is better to let them sleep. I hold the +_Snark_ down to her task, and from out of the darkness, at right +angles, comes a deluge of rain accompanied by shrieking wind. Then +everything eases except the blackness, and I rejoice in that I have not +called the men. + +No sooner does the wind ease than the sea picks up. The combers are +breaking now, and the boat is tossing like a cork. Then out of the +blackness the gusts come harder and faster than before. If only I knew +what was up there to windward in the blackness! The _Snark_ is making +heavy weather of it, and her lee-rail is buried oftener than not. More +shrieks and snorts of wind. Now, if ever, is the time to call the men. +I _will_ call them, I resolve. Then there is a burst of rain, a +slackening of the wind, and I do not call. But it is rather lonely, +there at the wheel, steering a little world through howling blackness. +It is quite a responsibility to be all alone on the surface of a little +world in time of stress, doing the thinking for its sleeping +inhabitants. I recoil from the responsibility as more gusts begin to +strike and as a sea licks along the weather rail and splashes over into +the cockpit. The salt water seems strangely warm to my body and is shot +through with ghostly nodules of phosphorescent light. I shall surely +call all hands to shorten sail. Why should they sleep? I am a fool to +have any compunctions in the matter. My intellect is arrayed against my +heart. It was my heart that said, “Let them sleep.” Yes, but it was my +intellect that backed up my heart in that judgment. Let my intellect +then reverse the judgment; and, while I am speculating as to what +particular entity issued that command to my intellect, the gusts die +away. Solicitude for mere bodily comfort has no place in practical +seamanship, I conclude sagely; but study the feel of the next series of +gusts and do not call the men. After all, it _is_ my intellect, behind +everything, procrastinating, measuring its knowledge of what the +_Snark_ can endure against the blows being struck at her, and waiting +the call of all hands against the striking of still severer blows. + +Daylight, gray and violent, steals through the cloud-pall and shows a +foaming sea that flattens under the weight of recurrent and increasing +squalls. Then comes the rain, filling the windy valleys of the sea with +milky smoke and further flattening the waves, which but wait for the +easement of wind and rain to leap more wildly than before. Come the men +on deck, their sleep out, and among them Hermann, his face on the broad +grin in appreciation of the breeze of wind I have picked up. I turn the +wheel over to Warren and start to go below, pausing on the way to +rescue the galley stovepipe which has gone adrift. I am barefooted, and +my toes have had an excellent education in the art of clinging; but, as +the rail buries itself in a green sea, I suddenly sit down on the +streaming deck. Hermann good-naturedly elects to question my selection +of such a spot. Then comes the next roll, and he sits down, suddenly, +and without premeditation. The _Snark_ heels over and down, the rail +takes it green, and Hermann and I, clutching the precious stove-pipe, +are swept down into the lee-scuppers. After that I finish my journey +below, and while changing my clothes grin with satisfaction—the _Snark_ +is making easting. + +No, it is not all monotony. When we had worried along our easting to +126° west longitude, we left the variables and headed south through the +doldrums, where was much calm weather and where, taking advantage of +every fan of air, we were often glad to make a score of miles in as +many hours. And yet, on such a day, we might pass through a dozen +squalls and be surrounded by dozens more. And every squall was to be +regarded as a bludgeon capable of crushing the _Snark_. We were struck +sometimes by the centres and sometimes by the sides of these squalls, +and we never knew just where or how we were to be hit. The squall that +rose up, covering half the heavens, and swept down upon us, as likely +as not split into two squalls which passed us harmlessly on either side +while the tiny, innocent looking squall that appeared to carry no more +than a hogshead of water and a pound of wind, would abruptly assume +cyclopean proportions, deluging us with rain and overwhelming us with +wind. Then there were treacherous squalls that went boldly astern and +sneaked back upon us from a mile to leeward. Again, two squalls would +tear along, one on each side of us, and we would get a fillip from each +of them. Now a gale certainly grows tiresome after a few hours, but +squalls never. The thousandth squall in one’s experience is as +interesting as the first one, and perhaps a bit more so. It is the tyro +who has no apprehension of them. The man of a thousand squalls respects +a squall. He knows what they are. + +It was in the doldrums that our most exciting event occurred. On +November 20, we discovered that through an accident we had lost over +one-half of the supply of fresh water that remained to us. Since we +were at that time forty-three days out from Hilo, our supply of fresh +water was not large. To lose over half of it was a catastrophe. On +close allowance, the remnant of water we possessed would last twenty +days. But we were in the doldrums; there was no telling where the +southeast trades were, nor where we would pick them up. + +The handcuffs were promptly put upon the pump, and once a day the water +was portioned out. Each of us received a quart for personal use, and +eight quarts were given to the cook. Enters now the psychology of the +situation. No sooner had the discovery of the water shortage been made +than I, for one, was afflicted with a burning thirst. It seemed to me +that I had never been so thirsty in my life. My little quart of water I +could easily have drunk in one draught, and to refrain from doing so +required a severe exertion of will. Nor was I alone in this. All of us +talked water, thought water, and dreamed water when we slept. We +examined the charts for possible islands to which to run in extremity, +but there were no such islands. The Marquesas were the nearest, and +they were the other side of the Line, and of the doldrums, too, which +made it even worse. We were in 3° north latitude, while the Marquesas +were 9° south latitude—a difference of over a thousand miles. +Furthermore, the Marquesas lay some fourteen degrees to the west of our +longitude. A pretty pickle for a handful of creatures sweltering on the +ocean in the heat of tropic calms. + +We rigged lines on either side between the main and mizzen riggings. To +these we laced the big deck awning, hoisting it up aft with a sailing +pennant so that any rain it might collect would run forward where it +could be caught. Here and there squalls passed across the circle of the +sea. All day we watched them, now to port or starboard, and again ahead +or astern. But never one came near enough to wet us. In the afternoon a +big one bore down upon us. It spread out across the ocean as it +approached, and we could see it emptying countless thousands of gallons +into the salt sea. Extra attention was paid to the awning and then we +waited. Warren, Martin, and Hermann made a vivid picture. Grouped +together, holding on to the rigging, swaying to the roll, they were +gazing intently at the squall. Strain, anxiety, and yearning were in +every posture of their bodies. Beside them was the dry and empty +awning. But they seemed to grow limp and to droop as the squall broke +in half, one part passing on ahead, the other drawing astern and going +to leeward. + +But that night came rain. Martin, whose psychological thirst had +compelled him to drink his quart of water early, got his mouth down to +the lip of the awning and drank the deepest draught I ever have seen +drunk. The precious water came down in bucketfuls and tubfuls, and in +two hours we caught and stored away in the tanks one hundred and twenty +gallons. Strange to say, in all the rest of our voyage to the Marquesas +not another drop of rain fell on board. If that squall had missed us, +the handcuffs would have remained on the pump, and we would have busied +ourselves with utilizing our surplus gasolene for distillation +purposes. + +Then there was the fishing. One did not have to go in search of it, for +it was there at the rail. A three-inch steel hook, on the end of a +stout line, with a piece of white rag for bait, was all that was +necessary to catch bonitas weighing from ten to twenty-five pounds. +Bonitas feed on flying-fish, wherefore they are unaccustomed to +nibbling at the hook. They strike as gamely as the gamest fish in the +sea, and their first run is something that no man who has ever caught +them will forget. Also, bonitas are the veriest cannibals. The instant +one is hooked he is attacked by his fellows. Often and often we hauled +them on board with fresh, clean-bitten holes in them the size of +teacups. + +One school of bonitas, numbering many thousands, stayed with us day and +night for more than three weeks. Aided by the _Snark_, it was great +hunting; for they cut a swath of destruction through the ocean half a +mile wide and fifteen hundred miles in length. They ranged along +abreast of the _Snark_ on either side, pouncing upon the flying-fish +her forefoot scared up. Since they were continually pursuing astern the +flying-fish that survived for several flights, they were always +overtaking the _Snark_, and at any time one could glance astern and on +the front of a breaking wave see scores of their silvery forms coasting +down just under the surface. When they had eaten their fill, it was +their delight to get in the shadow of the boat, or of her sails, and a +hundred or so were always to be seen lazily sliding along and keeping +cool. + +But the poor flying-fish! Pursued and eaten alive by the bonitas and +dolphins, they sought flight in the air, where the swooping seabirds +drove them back into the water. Under heaven there was no refuge for +them. Flying-fish do not play when they essay the air. It is a +life-and-death affair with them. A thousand times a day we could lift +our eyes and see the tragedy played out. The swift, broken circling of +a guny might attract one’s attention. A glance beneath shows the back +of a dolphin breaking the surface in a wild rush. Just in front of its +nose a shimmering palpitant streak of silver shoots from the water into +the air—a delicate, organic mechanism of flight, endowed with +sensation, power of direction, and love of life. The guny swoops for it +and misses, and the flying-fish, gaining its altitude by rising, +kite-like, against the wind, turns in a half-circle and skims off to +leeward, gliding on the bosom of the wind. Beneath it, the wake of the +dolphin shows in churning foam. So he follows, gazing upward with large +eyes at the flashing breakfast that navigates an element other than his +own. He cannot rise to so lofty occasion, but he is a thorough-going +empiricist, and he knows, sooner or later, if not gobbled up by the +guny, that the flying-fish must return to the water. And +then—breakfast. We used to pity the poor winged fish. It was sad to see +such sordid and bloody slaughter. And then, in the night watches, when +a forlorn little flying-fish struck the mainsail and fell gasping and +splattering on the deck, we would rush for it just as eagerly, just as +greedily, just as voraciously, as the dolphins and bonitas. For know +that flying-fish are most toothsome for breakfast. It is always a +wonder to me that such dainty meat does not build dainty tissue in the +bodies of the devourers. Perhaps the dolphins and bonitas are +coarser-fibred because of the high speed at which they drive their +bodies in order to catch their prey. But then again, the flying-fish +drive their bodies at high speed, too. + +Sharks we caught occasionally, on large hooks, with chain-swivels, bent +on a length of small rope. And sharks meant pilot-fish, and remoras, +and various sorts of parasitic creatures. Regular man-eaters some of +the sharks proved, tiger-eyed and with twelve rows of teeth, +razor-sharp. By the way, we of the _Snark_ are agreed that we have +eaten many fish that will not compare with baked shark smothered in +tomato dressing. In the calms we occasionally caught a fish called +“haké” by the Japanese cook. And once, on a spoon-hook trolling a +hundred yards astern, we caught a snake-like fish, over three feet in +length and not more than three inches in diameter, with four fangs in +his jaw. He proved the most delicious fish—delicious in meat and +flavour—that we have ever eaten on board. + +The most welcome addition to our larder was a green sea-turtle, +weighing a full hundred pounds and appearing on the table most +appetizingly in steaks, soups, and stews, and finally in a wonderful +curry which tempted all hands into eating more rice than was good for +them. The turtle was sighted to windward, calmly sleeping on the +surface in the midst of a huge school of curious dolphins. It was a +deep-sea turtle of a surety, for the nearest land was a thousand miles +away. We put the _Snark_ about and went back for him, Hermann driving +the granes into his head and neck. When hauled aboard, numerous remora +were clinging to his shell, and out of the hollows at the roots of his +flippers crawled several large crabs. It did not take the crew of the +_Snark_ longer than the next meal to reach the unanimous conclusion +that it would willingly put the _Snark_ about any time for a turtle. + +But it is the dolphin that is the king of deep-sea fishes. Never is his +colour twice quite the same. Swimming in the sea, an ethereal creature +of palest azure, he displays in that one guise a miracle of colour. But +it is nothing compared with the displays of which he is capable. At one +time he will appear green—pale green, deep green, phosphorescent green; +at another time blue—deep blue, electric blue, all the spectrum of +blue. Catch him on a hook, and he turns to gold, yellow gold, all gold. +Haul him on deck, and he excels the spectrum, passing through +inconceivable shades of blues, greens, and yellows, and then, suddenly, +turning a ghostly white, in the midst of which are bright blue spots, +and you suddenly discover that he is speckled like a trout. Then back +from white he goes, through all the range of colours, finally turning +to a mother-of-pearl. + +For those who are devoted to fishing, I can recommend no finer sport +than catching dolphin. Of course, it must be done on a thin line with +reel and pole. A No. 7, O’Shaughnessy tarpon hook is just the thing, +baited with an entire flying-fish. Like the bonita, the dolphin’s fare +consists of flying-fish, and he strikes like lightning at the bait. The +first warning is when the reel screeches and you see the line smoking +out at right angles to the boat. Before you have time to entertain +anxiety concerning the length of your line, the fish rises into the air +in a succession of leaps. Since he is quite certain to be four feet +long or over, the sport of landing so gamey a fish can be realized. +When hooked, he invariably turns golden. The idea of the series of +leaps is to rid himself of the hook, and the man who has made the +strike must be of iron or decadent if his heart does not beat with an +extra flutter when he beholds such gorgeous fish, glittering in golden +mail and shaking itself like a stallion in each mid-air leap. ’Ware +slack! If you don’t, on one of those leaps the hook will be flung out +and twenty feet away. No slack, and away he will go on another run, +culminating in another series of leaps. About this time one begins to +worry over the line, and to wish that he had had nine hundred feet on +the reel originally instead of six hundred. With careful playing the +line can be saved, and after an hour of keen excitement the fish can be +brought to gaff. One such dolphin I landed on the _Snark_ measured four +feet and seven inches. + +Hermann caught dolphins more prosaically. A hand-line and a chunk of +shark-meat were all he needed. His hand-line was very thick, but on +more than one occasion it parted and lost the fish. One day a dolphin +got away with a lure of Hermann’s manufacture, to which were lashed +four O’Shaughnessy hooks. Within an hour the same dolphin was landed +with the rod, and on dissecting him the four hooks were recovered. The +dolphins, which remained with us over a month, deserted us north of the +line, and not one was seen during the remainder of the traverse. + +So the days passed. There was so much to be done that time never +dragged. Had there been little to do, time could not have dragged with +such wonderful seascapes and cloudscapes—dawns that were like burning +imperial cities under rainbows that arched nearly to the zenith; +sunsets that bathed the purple sea in rivers of rose-coloured light, +flowing from a sun whose diverging, heaven-climbing rays were of the +purest blue. Overside, in the heat of the day, the sea was an azure +satiny fabric, in the depths of which the sunshine focussed in funnels +of light. Astern, deep down, when there was a breeze, bubbled a +procession of milky-turquoise ghosts—the foam flung down by the hull of +the _Snark_ each time she floundered against a sea. At night the wake +was phosphorescent fire, where the medusa slime resented our passing +bulk, while far down could be observed the unceasing flight of comets, +with long, undulating, nebulous tails—caused by the passage of the +bonitas through the resentful medusa slime. And now and again, from out +of the darkness on either hand, just under the surface, larger +phosphorescent organisms flashed up like electric lights, marking +collisions with the careless bonitas skurrying ahead to the good +hunting just beyond our bowsprit. + +We made our easting, worked down through the doldrums, and caught a +fresh breeze out of south-by-west. Hauled up by the wind, on such a +slant, we would fetch past the Marquesas far away to the westward. But +the next day, on Tuesday, November 26, in the thick of a heavy squall, +the wind shifted suddenly to the southeast. It was the trade at last. +There were no more squalls, naught but fine weather, a fair wind, and a +whirling log, with sheets slacked off and with spinnaker and mainsail +swaying and bellying on either side. The trade backed more and more, +until it blew out of the northeast, while we steered a steady course to +the southwest. Ten days of this, and on the morning of December 6, at +five o’clock, we sighted land “just where it ought to have been,” dead +ahead. We passed to leeward of Ua-huka, skirted the southern edge of +Nuka-hiva, and that night, in driving squalls and inky darkness, fought +our way in to an anchorage in the narrow bay of Taiohae. The anchor +rumbled down to the blatting of wild goats on the cliffs, and the air +we breathed was heavy with the perfume of flowers. The traverse was +accomplished. Sixty days from land to land, across a lonely sea above +whose horizons never rise the straining sails of ships. + + + + +CHAPTER X +TYPEE + + +To the eastward Ua-huka was being blotted out by an evening rain-squall +that was fast overtaking the _Snark_. But that little craft, her big +spinnaker filled by the southeast trade, was making a good race of it. +Cape Martin, the southeasternmost point of Nuku-hiva, was abeam, and +Comptroller Bay was opening up as we fled past its wide entrance, where +Sail Rock, for all the world like the spritsail of a Columbia River +salmon-boat, was making brave weather of it in the smashing southeast +swell. + +“What do you make that out to be?” I asked Hermann, at the wheel. + +“A fishing-boat, sir,” he answered after careful scrutiny. + +Yet on the chart it was plainly marked, “Sail Rock.” + +But we were more interested in the recesses of Comptroller Bay, where +our eyes eagerly sought out the three bights of land and centred on the +midmost one, where the gathering twilight showed the dim walls of a +valley extending inland. How often we had pored over the chart and +centred always on that midmost bight and on the valley it opened—the +Valley of Typee. “Taipi” the chart spelled it, and spelled it +correctly, but I prefer “Typee,” and I shall always spell it “Typee.” +When I was a little boy, I read a book spelled in that manner—Herman +Melville’s “Typee”; and many long hours I dreamed over its pages. Nor +was it all dreaming. I resolved there and then, mightily, come what +would, that when I had gained strength and years, I, too, would voyage +to Typee. For the wonder of the world was penetrating to my tiny +consciousness—the wonder that was to lead me to many lands, and that +leads and never pails. The years passed, but Typee was not forgotten. +Returned to San Francisco from a seven months’ cruise in the North +Pacific, I decided the time had come. The brig _Galilee_ was sailing +for the Marquesas, but her crew was complete and I, who was an +able-seaman before the mast and young enough to be overweeningly proud +of it, was willing to condescend to ship as cabin-boy in order to make +the pilgrimage to Typee. Of course, the _Galilee_ would have sailed +from the Marquesas without me, for I was bent on finding another +Fayaway and another Kory-Kory. I doubt that the captain read desertion +in my eye. Perhaps even the berth of cabin-boy was already filled. At +any rate, I did not get it. + +Then came the rush of years, filled brimming with projects, +achievements, and failures; but Typee was not forgotten, and here I was +now, gazing at its misty outlines till the squall swooped down and the +_Snark_ dashed on into the driving smother. Ahead, we caught a glimpse +and took the compass bearing of Sentinel Rock, wreathed with pounding +surf. Then it, too, was effaced by the rain and darkness. We steered +straight for it, trusting to hear the sound of breakers in time to +sheer clear. We had to steer for it. We had naught but a compass +bearing with which to orientate ourselves, and if we missed Sentinel +Rock, we missed Taiohae Bay, and we would have to throw the _Snark_ up +to the wind and lie off and on the whole night—no pleasant prospect for +voyagers weary from a sixty days’ traverse of the vast Pacific +solitude, and land-hungry, and fruit-hungry, and hungry with an +appetite of years for the sweet vale of Typee. + +Abruptly, with a roar of sound, Sentinel Rock loomed through the rain +dead ahead. We altered our course, and, with mainsail and spinnaker +bellying to the squall, drove past. Under the lea of the rock the wind +dropped us, and we rolled in an absolute calm. Then a puff of air +struck us, right in our teeth, out of Taiohae Bay. It was in spinnaker, +up mizzen, all sheets by the wind, and we were moving slowly ahead, +heaving the lead and straining our eyes for the fixed red light on the +ruined fort that would give us our bearings to anchorage. The air was +light and baffling, now east, now west, now north, now south; while +from either hand came the roar of unseen breakers. From the looming +cliffs arose the blatting of wild goats, and overhead the first stars +were peeping mistily through the ragged train of the passing squall. At +the end of two hours, having come a mile into the bay, we dropped +anchor in eleven fathoms. And so we came to Taiohae. + +In the morning we awoke in fairyland. The _Snark_ rested in a placid +harbour that nestled in a vast amphitheatre, the towering, vine-clad +walls of which seemed to rise directly from the water. Far up, to the +east, we glimpsed the thin line of a trail, visible in one place, where +it scoured across the face of the wall. + +“The path by which Toby escaped from Typee!” we cried. + +We were not long in getting ashore and astride horses, though the +consummation of our pilgrimage had to be deferred for a day. Two months +at sea, bare-footed all the time, without space in which to exercise +one’s limbs, is not the best preliminary to leather shoes and walking. +Besides, the land had to cease its nauseous rolling before we could +feel fit for riding goat-like horses over giddy trails. So we took a +short ride to break in, and crawled through thick jungle to make the +acquaintance of a venerable moss-grown idol, where had foregathered a +German trader and a Norwegian captain to estimate the weight of said +idol, and to speculate upon depreciation in value caused by sawing him +in half. They treated the old fellow sacrilegiously, digging their +knives into him to see how hard he was and how deep his mossy mantle, +and commanding him to rise up and save them trouble by walking down to +the ship himself. In lieu of which, nineteen Kanakas slung him on a +frame of timbers and toted him to the ship, where, battened down under +hatches, even now he is cleaving the South Pacific Hornward and toward +Europe—the ultimate abiding-place for all good heathen idols, save for +the few in America and one in particular who grins beside me as I +write, and who, barring shipwreck, will grin somewhere in my +neighbourhood until I die. And he will win out. He will be grinning +when I am dust. + +Also, as a preliminary, we attended a feast, where one Taiara Tamarii, +the son of an Hawaiian sailor who deserted from a whaleship, +commemorated the death of his Marquesan mother by roasting fourteen +whole hogs and inviting in the village. So we came along, welcomed by a +native herald, a young girl, who stood on a great rock and chanted the +information that the banquet was made perfect by our presence—which +information she extended impartially to every arrival. Scarcely were we +seated, however, when she changed her tune, while the company +manifested intense excitement. Her cries became eager and piercing. +From a distance came answering cries, in men’s voices, which blended +into a wild, barbaric chant that sounded incredibly savage, smacking of +blood and war. Then, through vistas of tropical foliage appeared a +procession of savages, naked save for gaudy loin-cloths. They advanced +slowly, uttering deep guttural cries of triumph and exaltation. Slung +from young saplings carried on their shoulders were mysterious objects +of considerable weight, hidden from view by wrappings of green leaves. + +Nothing but pigs, innocently fat and roasted to a turn, were inside +those wrappings, but the men were carrying them into camp in imitation +of old times when they carried in “long-pig.” Now long-pig is not pig. +Long-pig is the Polynesian euphemism for human flesh; and these +descendants of man-eaters, a king’s son at their head, brought in the +pigs to table as of old their grandfathers had brought in their slain +enemies. Every now and then the procession halted in order that the +bearers should have every advantage in uttering particularly ferocious +shouts of victory, of contempt for their enemies, and of gustatory +desire. So Melville, two generations ago, witnessed the bodies of slain +Happar warriors, wrapped in palm-leaves, carried to banquet at the Ti. +At another time, at the Ti, he “observed a curiously carved vessel of +wood,” and on looking into it his eyes “fell upon the disordered +members of a human skeleton, the bones still fresh with moisture, and +with particles of flesh clinging to them here and there.” + +Cannibalism has often been regarded as a fairy story by ultracivilized +men who dislike, perhaps, the notion that their own savage forebears +have somewhere in the past been addicted to similar practices. Captain +Cook was rather sceptical upon the subject, until, one day, in a +harbour of New Zealand, he deliberately tested the matter. A native +happened to have brought on board, for sale, a nice, sun-dried head. At +Cook’s orders strips of the flesh were cut away and handed to the +native, who greedily devoured them. To say the least, Captain Cook was +a rather thorough-going empiricist. At any rate, by that act he +supplied one ascertained fact of which science had been badly in need. +Little did he dream of the existence of a certain group of islands, +thousands of miles away, where in subsequent days there would arise a +curious suit at law, when an old chief of Maui would be charged with +defamation of character because he persisted in asserting that his body +was the living repository of Captain Cook’s great toe. It is said that +the plaintiffs failed to prove that the old chief was not the tomb of +the navigator’s great toe, and that the suit was dismissed. + +I suppose I shall not have the chance in these degenerate days to see +any long-pig eaten, but at least I am already the possessor of a duly +certified Marquesan calabash, oblong in shape, curiously carved, over a +century old, from which has been drunk the blood of two shipmasters. +One of those captains was a mean man. He sold a decrepit whale-boat, as +good as new what of the fresh white paint, to a Marquesan chief. But no +sooner had the captain sailed away than the whale-boat dropped to +pieces. It was his fortune, some time afterwards, to be wrecked, of all +places, on that particular island. The Marquesan chief was ignorant of +rebates and discounts; but he had a primitive sense of equity and an +equally primitive conception of the economy of nature, and he balanced +the account by eating the man who had cheated him. + +We started in the cool dawn for Typee, astride ferocious little +stallions that pawed and screamed and bit and fought one another quite +oblivious of the fragile humans on their backs and of the slippery +boulders, loose rocks, and yawning gorges. The way led up an ancient +road through a jungle of _hau_ trees. On every side were the vestiges +of a one-time dense population. Wherever the eye could penetrate the +thick growth, glimpses were caught of stone walls and of stone +foundations, six to eight feet in height, built solidly throughout, and +many yards in width and depth. They formed great stone platforms, upon +which, at one time, there had been houses. But the houses and the +people were gone, and huge trees sank their roots through the platforms +and towered over the under-running jungle. These foundations are called +_pae-paes_—the _pi-pis_ of Melville, who spelled phonetically. + +The Marquesans of the present generation lack the energy to hoist and +place such huge stones. Also, they lack incentive. There are plenty of +_pae-paes_ to go around, with a few thousand unoccupied ones left over. +Once or twice, as we ascended the valley, we saw magnificent _pae-paes_ +bearing on their general surface pitiful little straw huts, the +proportions being similar to a voting booth perched on the broad +foundation of the Pyramid of Cheops. For the Marquesans are perishing, +and, to judge from conditions at Taiohae, the one thing that retards +their destruction is the infusion of fresh blood. A pure Marquesan is a +rarity. They seem to be all half-breeds and strange conglomerations of +dozens of different races. Nineteen able labourers are all the trader +at Taiohae can muster for the loading of copra on shipboard, and in +their veins runs the blood of English, American, Dane, German, French, +Corsican, Spanish, Portuguese, Chinese, Hawaiian, Paumotan, Tahitian, +and Easter Islander. There are more races than there are persons, but +it is a wreckage of races at best. Life faints and stumbles and gasps +itself away. In this warm, equable clime—a truly terrestrial +paradise—where are never extremes of temperature and where the air is +like balm, kept ever pure by the ozone-laden southeast trade, asthma, +phthisis, and tuberculosis flourish as luxuriantly as the vegetation. +Everywhere, from the few grass huts, arises the racking cough or +exhausted groan of wasted lungs. Other horrible diseases prosper as +well, but the most deadly of all are those that attack the lungs. There +is a form of consumption called “galloping,” which is especially +dreaded. In two months’ time it reduces the strongest man to a skeleton +under a grave-cloth. In valley after valley the last inhabitant has +passed and the fertile soil has relapsed to jungle. In Melville’s day +the valley of Hapaa (spelled by him “Happar”) was peopled by a strong +and warlike tribe. A generation later, it contained but two hundred +persons. To-day it is an untenanted, howling, tropical wilderness. + +We climbed higher and higher in the valley, our unshod stallions +picking their steps on the disintegrating trail, which led in and out +through the abandoned _pae-paes_ and insatiable jungle. The sight of +red mountain apples, the _ohias_, familiar to us from Hawaii, caused a +native to be sent climbing after them. And again he climbed for +cocoa-nuts. I have drunk the cocoanuts of Jamaica and of Hawaii, but I +never knew how delicious such draught could be till I drank it here in +the Marquesas. Occasionally we rode under wild limes and oranges—great +trees which had survived the wilderness longer than the motes of humans +who had cultivated them. + +We rode through endless thickets of yellow-pollened cassi—if riding it +could be called; for those fragrant thickets were inhabited by wasps. +And such wasps! Great yellow fellows the size of small canary birds, +darting through the air with behind them drifting a bunch of legs a +couple of inches long. A stallion abruptly stands on his forelegs and +thrusts his hind legs skyward. He withdraws them from the sky long +enough to make one wild jump ahead, and then returns them to their +index position. It is nothing. His thick hide has merely been punctured +by a flaming lance of wasp virility. Then a second and a third +stallion, and all the stallions, begin to cavort on their forelegs over +the precipitous landscape. Swat! A white-hot poniard penetrates my +cheek. Swat again!! I am stabbed in the neck. I am bringing up the rear +and getting more than my share. There is no retreat, and the plunging +horses ahead, on a precarious trail, promise little safety. My horse +overruns Charmian’s horse, and that sensitive creature, fresh-stung at +the psychological moment, planks one of his hoofs into my horse and the +other hoof into me. I thank my stars that he is not steel-shod, and +half-arise from the saddle at the impact of another flaming dagger. I +am certainly getting more than my share, and so is my poor horse, whose +pain and panic are only exceeded by mine. + +“Get out of the way! I’m coming!” I shout, frantically dashing my cap +at the winged vipers around me. + +On one side of the trail the landscape rises straight up. On the other +side it sinks straight down. The only way to get out of my way is to +keep on going. How that string of horses kept their feet is a miracle; +but they dashed ahead, over-running one another, galloping, trotting, +stumbling, jumping, scrambling, and kicking methodically skyward every +time a wasp landed on them. After a while we drew breath and counted +our injuries. And this happened not once, nor twice, but time after +time. Strange to say, it never grew monotonous. I know that I, for one, +came through each brush with the undiminished zest of a man flying from +sudden death. No; the pilgrim from Taiohae to Typee will never suffer +from _ennui_ on the way. + +At last we arose above the vexation of wasps. It was a matter of +altitude, however, rather than of fortitude. All about us lay the +jagged back-bones of ranges, as far as the eye could see, thrusting +their pinnacles into the trade-wind clouds. Under us, from the way we +had come, the _Snark_ lay like a tiny toy on the calm water of Taiohae +Bay. Ahead we could see the inshore indentation of Comptroller Bay. We +dropped down a thousand feet, and Typee lay beneath us. “Had a glimpse +of the gardens of paradise been revealed to me I could scarcely have +been more ravished with the sight”—so said Melville on the moment of +his first view of the valley. He saw a garden. We saw a wilderness. +Where were the hundred groves of the breadfruit tree he saw? We saw +jungle, nothing but jungle, with the exception of two grass huts and +several clumps of cocoanuts breaking the primordial green mantle. Where +was the _Ti_ of Mehevi, the bachelors’ hall, the palace where women +were taboo, and where he ruled with his lesser chieftains, keeping the +half-dozen dusty and torpid ancients to remind them of the valorous +past? From the swift stream no sounds arose of maids and matrons +pounding _tapa_. And where was the hut that old Narheyo eternally +builded? In vain I looked for him perched ninety feet from the ground +in some tall cocoanut, taking his morning smoke. + +We went down a zigzag trail under overarching, matted jungle, where +great butterflies drifted by in the silence. No tattooed savage with +club and javelin guarded the path; and when we forded the stream, we +were free to roam where we pleased. No longer did the taboo, sacred and +merciless, reign in that sweet vale. Nay, the taboo still did reign, a +new taboo, for when we approached too near the several wretched native +women, the taboo was uttered warningly. And it was well. They were +lepers. The man who warned us was afflicted horribly with +elephantiasis. All were suffering from lung trouble. The valley of +Typee was the abode of death, and the dozen survivors of the tribe were +gasping feebly the last painful breaths of the race. + +Certainly the battle had not been to the strong, for once the Typeans +were very strong, stronger than the Happars, stronger than the +Taiohaeans, stronger than all the tribes of Nuku-hiva. The word +“typee,” or, rather, “taipi,” originally signified an eater of human +flesh. But since all the Marquesans were human-flesh eaters, to be so +designated was the token that the Typeans were the human-flesh eaters +par excellence. Not alone to Nuku-hiva did the Typean reputation for +bravery and ferocity extend. In all the islands of the Marquesas the +Typeans were named with dread. Man could not conquer them. Even the +French fleet that took possession of the Marquesas left the Typeans +alone. Captain Porter, of the frigate _Essex_, once invaded the valley. +His sailors and marines were reinforced by two thousand warriors of +Happar and Taiohae. They penetrated quite a distance into the valley, +but met with so fierce a resistance that they were glad to retreat and +get away in their flotilla of boats and war-canoes. + +Of all inhabitants of the South Seas, the Marquesans were adjudged the +strongest and the most beautiful. Melville said of them: “I was +especially struck by the physical strength and beauty they displayed . +. . In beauty of form they surpassed anything I had ever seen. Not a +single instance of natural deformity was observable in all the throng +attending the revels. Every individual appeared free from those +blemishes which sometimes mar the effect of an otherwise perfect form. +But their physical excellence did not merely consist in an exemption +from these evils; nearly every individual of the number might have been +taken for a sculptor’s model.” Mendaña, the discoverer of the +Marquesas, described the natives as wondrously beautiful to behold. +Figueroa, the chronicler of his voyage, said of them: “In complexion +they were nearly white; of good stature and finely formed.” Captain +Cook called the Marquesans the most splendid islanders in the South +Seas. The men were described, as “in almost every instance of lofty +stature, scarcely ever less than six feet in height.” + +And now all this strength and beauty has departed, and the valley of +Typee is the abode of some dozen wretched creatures, afflicted by +leprosy, elephantiasis, and tuberculosis. Melville estimated the +population at two thousand, not taking into consideration the small +adjoining valley of Ho-o-u-mi. Life has rotted away in this wonderful +garden spot, where the climate is as delightful and healthful as any to +be found in the world. Not alone were the Typeans physically +magnificent; they were pure. Their air did not contain the bacilli and +germs and microbes of disease that fill our own air. And when the white +men imported in their ships these various micro-organisms or disease, +the Typeans crumpled up and went down before them. + +When one considers the situation, one is almost driven to the +conclusion that the white race flourishes on impurity and corruption. +Natural selection, however, gives the explanation. We of the white race +are the survivors and the descendants of the thousands of generations +of survivors in the war with the micro-organisms. Whenever one of us +was born with a constitution peculiarly receptive to these minute +enemies, such a one promptly died. Only those of us survived who could +withstand them. We who are alive are the immune, the fit—the ones best +constituted to live in a world of hostile micro-organisms. The poor +Marquesans had undergone no such selection. They were not immune. And +they, who had made a custom of eating their enemies, were now eaten by +enemies so microscopic as to be invisible, and against whom no war of +dart and javelin was possible. On the other hand, had there been a few +hundred thousand Marquesans to begin with, there might have been +sufficient survivors to lay the foundation for a new race—a regenerated +race, if a plunge into a festering bath of organic poison can be called +regeneration. + +We unsaddled our horses for lunch, and after we had fought the +stallions apart—mine with several fresh chunks bitten out of his +back—and after we had vainly fought the sand-flies, we ate bananas and +tinned meats, washed down by generous draughts of cocoanut milk. There +was little to be seen. The jungle had rushed back and engulfed the puny +works of man. Here and there _pai-pais_ were to be stumbled upon, but +there were no inscriptions, no hieroglyphics, no clues to the past they +attested—only dumb stones, builded and carved by hands that were +forgotten dust. Out of the _pai-pais_ grew great trees, jealous of the +wrought work of man, splitting and scattering the stones back into the +primeval chaos. + +We gave up the jungle and sought the stream with the idea of evading +the sand-flies. Vain hope! To go in swimming one must take off his +clothes. The sand-flies are aware of the fact, and they lurk by the +river bank in countless myriads. In the native they are called the +_nau-nau_, which is pronounced “now-now.” They are certainly well +named, for they are the insistent present. There is no past nor future +when they fasten upon one’s epidermis, and I am willing to wager that +Omer Khayyám could never have written the Rubáiyat in the valley of +Typee—it would have been psychologically impossible. I made the +strategic mistake of undressing on the edge of a steep bank where I +could dive in but could not climb out. When I was ready to dress, I had +a hundred yards’ walk on the bank before I could reach my clothes. At +the first step, fully ten thousand _nau-naus_ landed upon me. At the +second step I was walking in a cloud. By the third step the sun was +dimmed in the sky. After that I don’t know what happened. When I +arrived at my clothes, I was a maniac. And here enters my grand +tactical error. There is only one rule of conduct in dealing with +_nau-naus_. Never swat them. Whatever you do, don’t swat them. They are +so vicious that in the instant of annihilation they eject their last +atom of poison into your carcass. You must pluck them delicately, +between thumb and forefinger, and persuade them gently to remove their +proboscides from your quivering flesh. It is like pulling teeth. But +the difficulty was that the teeth sprouted faster than I could pull +them, so I swatted, and, so doing, filled myself full with their +poison. This was a week ago. At the present moment I resemble a sadly +neglected smallpox convalescent. + +Ho-o-u-mi is a small valley, separated from Typee by a low ridge, and +thither we started when we had knocked our indomitable and insatiable +riding-animals into submission. As it was, Warren’s mount, after a mile +run, selected the most dangerous part of the trail for an exhibition +that kept us all on the anxious seat for fully five minutes. We rode by +the mouth of Typee valley and gazed down upon the beach from which +Melville escaped. There was where the whale-boat lay on its oars close +in to the surf; and there was where Karakoee, the taboo Kanaka, stood +in the water and trafficked for the sailor’s life. There, surely, was +where Melville gave Fayaway the parting embrace ere he dashed for the +boat. And there was the point of land from which Mehevi and Mow-mow and +their following swam off to intercept the boat, only to have their +wrists gashed by sheath-knives when they laid hold of the gunwale, +though it was reserved for Mow-mow to receive the boat-hook full in the +throat from Melville’s hands. + +We rode on to Ho-o-u-mi. So closely was Melville guarded that he never +dreamed of the existence of this valley, though he must continually +have met its inhabitants, for they belonged to Typee. We rode through +the same abandoned _pae-paes_, but as we neared the sea we found a +profusion of cocoanuts, breadfruit trees and taro patches, and fully a +dozen grass dwellings. In one of these we arranged to pass the night, +and preparations were immediately put on foot for a feast. A young pig +was promptly despatched, and while he was being roasted among hot +stones, and while chickens were stewing in cocoanut milk, I persuaded +one of the cooks to climb an unusually tall cocoanut palm. The cluster +of nuts at the top was fully one hundred and twenty-five feet from the +ground, but that native strode up to the tree, seized it in both hands, +jack-knived at the waist so that the soles of his feet rested flatly +against the trunk, and then he walked right straight up without +stopping. There were no notches in the tree. He had no ropes to help +him. He merely walked up the tree, one hundred and twenty-five feet in +the air, and cast down the nuts from the summit. Not every man there +had the physical stamina for such a feat, or the lungs, rather, for +most of them were coughing their lives away. Some of the women kept up +a ceaseless moaning and groaning, so badly were their lungs wasted. +Very few of either sex were full-blooded Marquesans. They were mostly +half-breeds and three-quarter-breeds of French, English, Danish, and +Chinese extraction. At the best, these infusions of fresh blood merely +delayed the passing, and the results led one to wonder whether it was +worth while. + +The feast was served on a broad _pae-pae_, the rear portion of which +was occupied by the house in which we were to sleep. The first course +was raw fish and _poi-poi_, the latter sharp and more acrid of taste +than the _poi_ of Hawaii, which is made from taro. The _poi-poi_ of the +Marquesas is made from breadfruit. The ripe fruit, after the core is +removed, is placed in a calabash and pounded with a stone pestle into a +stiff, sticky paste. In this stage of the process, wrapped in leaves, +it can be buried in the ground, where it will keep for years. Before it +can be eaten, however, further processes are necessary. A leaf-covered +package is placed among hot stones, like the pig, and thoroughly baked. +After that it is mixed with cold water and thinned out—not thin enough +to run, but thin enough to be eaten by sticking one’s first and second +fingers into it. On close acquaintance it proves a pleasant and most +healthful food. And breadfruit, ripe and well boiled or roasted! It is +delicious. Breadfruit and taro are kingly vegetables, the pair of them, +though the former is patently a misnomer and more resembles a sweet +potato than anything else, though it is not mealy like a sweet potato, +nor is it so sweet. + +The feast ended, we watched the moon rise over Typee. The air was like +balm, faintly scented with the breath of flowers. It was a magic night, +deathly still, without the slightest breeze to stir the foliage; and +one caught one’s breath and felt the pang that is almost hurt, so +exquisite was the beauty of it. Faint and far could be heard the thin +thunder of the surf upon the beach. There were no beds; and we drowsed +and slept wherever we thought the floor softest. Near by, a woman +panted and moaned in her sleep, and all about us the dying islanders +coughed in the night. + + + + +CHAPTER XI +THE NATURE MAN + + +I first met him on Market Street in San Francisco. It was a wet and +drizzly afternoon, and he was striding along, clad solely in a pair of +abbreviated knee-trousers and an abbreviated shirt, his bare feet going +slick-slick through the pavement-slush. At his heels trooped a score of +excited gamins. Every head—and there were thousands—turned to glance +curiously at him as he went by. And I turned, too. Never had I seen +such lovely sunburn. He was all sunburn, of the sort a blond takes on +when his skin does not peel. His long yellow hair was burnt, so was his +beard, which sprang from a soil unploughed by any razor. He was a tawny +man, a golden-tawny man, all glowing and radiant with the sun. Another +prophet, thought I, come up to town with a message that will save the +world. + +A few weeks later I was with some friends in their bungalow in the +Piedmont hills overlooking San Francisco Bay. “We’ve got him, we’ve got +him,” they barked. “We caught him up a tree; but he’s all right now, +he’ll feed from the hand. Come on and see him.” So I accompanied them +up a dizzy hill, and in a rickety shack in the midst of a eucalyptus +grove found my sunburned prophet of the city pavements. + +He hastened to meet us, arriving in the whirl and blur of a handspring. +He did not shake hands with us; instead, his greeting took the form of +stunts. He turned more handsprings. He twisted his body sinuously, like +a snake, until, having sufficiently limbered up, he bent from the hips, +and, with legs straight and knees touching, beat a tattoo on the ground +with the palms of his hands. He whirligigged and pirouetted, dancing +and cavorting round like an inebriated ape. All the sun-warmth of his +ardent life beamed in his face. I am so happy, was the song without +words he sang. + +He sang it all evening, ringing the changes on it with an endless +variety of stunts. “A fool! a fool! I met a fool in the forest!” +thought I, and a worthy fool he proved. Between handsprings and +whirligigs he delivered his message that would save the world. It was +twofold. First, let suffering humanity strip off its clothing and run +wild in the mountains and valleys; and, second, let the very miserable +world adopt phonetic spelling. I caught a glimpse of the great social +problems being settled by the city populations swarming naked over the +landscape, to the popping of shot-guns, the barking of ranch-dogs, and +countless assaults with pitchforks wielded by irate farmers. + +The years passed, and, one sunny morning, the _Snark_ poked her nose +into a narrow opening in a reef that smoked with the crashing impact of +the trade-wind swell, and beat slowly up Papeete harbour. Coming off to +us was a boat, flying a yellow flag. We knew it contained the port +doctor. But quite a distance off, in its wake, was a tiny out rigger +canoe that puzzled us. It was flying a red flag. I studied it through +the glasses, fearing that it marked some hidden danger to navigation, +some recent wreck or some buoy or beacon that had been swept away. Then +the doctor came on board. After he had examined the state of our health +and been assured that we had no live rats hidden away in the _Snark_, I +asked him the meaning of the red flag. “Oh, that is Darling,” was the +answer. + +And then Darling, Ernest Darling flying the red flag that is indicative +of the brotherhood of man, hailed us. “Hello, Jack!” he called. “Hello, +Charmian!” He paddled swiftly nearer, and I saw that he was the tawny +prophet of the Piedmont hills. He came over the side, a sun-god clad in +a scarlet loin-cloth, with presents of Arcady and greeting in both his +hands—a bottle of golden honey and a leaf-basket filled _with_ great +golden mangoes, golden bananas specked with freckles of deeper gold, +golden pine-apples and golden limes, and juicy oranges minted from the +same precious ore of sun and soil. And in this fashion under the +southern sky, I met once more Darling, the Nature Man. + +Tahiti is one of the most beautiful spots in the world, inhabited by +thieves and robbers and liars, also by several honest and truthful men +and women. Wherefore, because of the blight cast upon Tahiti’s +wonderful beauty by the spidery human vermin that infest it, I am +minded to write, not of Tahiti, but of the Nature Man. He, at least, is +refreshing and wholesome. The spirit that emanates from him is so +gentle and sweet that it would harm nothing, hurt nobody’s feelings +save the feelings of a predatory and plutocratic capitalist. + +“What does this red flag mean?” I asked. + +“Socialism, of course.” + +“Yes, yes, I know that,” I went on; “but what does it mean in your +hands?” + +“Why, that I’ve found my message.” + +“And that you are delivering it to Tahiti?” I demanded incredulously. + +“Sure,” he answered simply; and later on I found that he was, too. + +When we dropped anchor, lowered a small boat into the water, and +started ashore, the Nature Man joined us. Now, thought I, I shall be +pestered to death by this crank. Waking or sleeping I shall never be +quit of him until I sail away from here. + +But never in my life was I more mistaken. I took a house and went to +live and work in it, and the Nature Man never came near me. He was +waiting for the invitation. In the meantime he went aboard the _Snark_ +and took possession of her library, delighted by the quantity of +scientific books, and shocked, as I learned afterwards, by the +inordinate amount of fiction. The Nature Man never wastes time on +fiction. + +After a week or so, my conscience smote me, and I invited him to dinner +at a downtown hotel. + +He arrived, looking unwontedly stiff and uncomfortable in a cotton +jacket. When invited to peel it off, he beamed his gratitude and joy, +and did so, revealing his sun-gold skin, from waist to shoulder, +covered only by a piece of fish-net of coarse twine and large of mesh. +A scarlet loin-cloth completed his costume. I began my acquaintance +with him that night, and during my long stay in Tahiti that +acquaintance ripened into friendship. + +“So you write books,” he said, one day when, tired and sweaty, I +finished my morning’s work. + +“I, too, write books,” he announced. + +Aha, thought I, now at last is he going to pester me with his literary +efforts. My soul was in revolt. I had not come all the way to the South +Seas to be a literary bureau. + +“This is the book I write,” he explained, smashing himself a resounding +blow on the chest with his clenched fist. “The gorilla in the African +jungle pounds his chest till the noise of it can be heard half a mile +away.” + +“A pretty good chest,” quoth I, admiringly; “it would even make a +gorilla envious.” + +And then, and later, I learned the details of the marvellous book +Ernest Darling had written. Twelve years ago he lay close to death. He +weighed but ninety pounds, and was too weak to speak. The doctors had +given him up. His father, a practising physician, had given him up. +Consultations with other physicians had been held upon him. There was +no hope for him. Overstudy (as a school-teacher and as a university +student) and two successive attacks of pneumonia were responsible for +his breakdown. Day by day he was losing strength. He could extract no +nutrition from the heavy foods they gave him; nor could pellets and +powders help his stomach to do the work of digestion. Not only was he a +physical wreck, but he was a mental wreck. His mind was overwrought. He +was sick and tired of medicine, and he was sick and tired of persons. +Human speech jarred upon him. Human attentions drove him frantic. The +thought came to him that since he was going to die, he might as well +die in the open, away from all the bother and irritation. And behind +this idea lurked a sneaking idea that perhaps he would not die after +all if only he could escape from the heavy foods, the medicines, and +the well-intentioned persons who made him frantic. + +So Ernest Darling, a bag of bones and a death’s-head, a perambulating +corpse, with just the dimmest flutter of life in it to make it +perambulate, turned his back upon men and the habitations of men and +dragged himself for five miles through the brush, away from the city of +Portland, Oregon. Of course he was crazy. Only a lunatic would drag +himself out of his death-bed. + +But in the brush, Darling found what he was looking for—rest. Nobody +bothered him with beefsteaks and pork. No physicians lacerated his +tired nerves by feeling his pulse, nor tormented his tired stomach with +pellets and powders. He began to feel soothed. The sun was shining +warm, and he basked in it. He had the feeling that the sun shine was an +elixir of health. Then it seemed to him that his whole wasted wreck of +a body was crying for the sun. He stripped off his clothes and bathed +in the sunshine. He felt better. It had done him good—the first relief +in weary months of pain. + +As he grew better, he sat up and began to take notice. All about him +were the birds fluttering and chirping, the squirrels chattering and +playing. He envied them their health and spirits, their happy, +care-free existence. That he should contrast their condition with his +was inevitable; and that he should question why they were splendidly +vigorous while he was a feeble, dying wraith of a man, was likewise +inevitable. His conclusion was the very obvious one, namely, that they +lived naturally, while he lived most unnaturally; therefore, if he +intended to live, he must return to nature. + +Alone, there in the brush, he worked out his problem and began to apply +it. He stripped off his clothing and leaped and gambolled about, +running on all fours, climbing trees; in short, doing physical +stunts,—and all the time soaking in the sunshine. He imitated the +animals. He built a nest of dry leaves and grasses in which to sleep at +night, covering it over with bark as a protection against the early +fall rains. “Here is a beautiful exercise,” he told me, once, flapping +his arms mightily against his sides; “I learned it from watching the +roosters crow.” Another time I remarked the loud, sucking intake with +which he drank cocoanut-milk. He explained that he had noticed the cows +drinking that way and concluded there must be something in it. He tried +it and found it good, and thereafter he drank only in that fashion. + +He noted that the squirrels lived on fruits and nuts. He started on a +fruit-and-nut diet, helped out by bread, and he grew stronger and put +on weight. For three months he continued his primordial existence in +the brush, and then the heavy Oregon rains drove him back to the +habitations of men. Not in three months could a ninety-pound survivor +of two attacks of pneumonia develop sufficient ruggedness to live +through an Oregon winter in the open. + +He had accomplished much, but he had been driven in. There was no place +to go but back to his father’s house, and there, living in close rooms +with lungs that panted for all the air of the open sky, he was brought +down by a third attack of pneumonia. He grew weaker even than before. +In that tottering tabernacle of flesh, his brain collapsed. He lay like +a corpse, too weak to stand the fatigue of speaking, too irritated and +tired in his miserable brain to care to listen to the speech of others. +The only act of will of which he was capable was to stick his fingers +in his ears and resolutely to refuse to hear a single word that was +spoken to him. They sent for the insanity experts. He was adjudged +insane, and also the verdict was given that he would not live a month. + +By one such mental expert he was carted off to a sanatorium on Mt. +Tabor. Here, when they learned that he was harmless, they gave him his +own way. They no longer dictated as to the food he ate, so he resumed +his fruits and nuts—olive oil, peanut butter, and bananas the chief +articles of his diet. As he regained his strength he made up his mind +to live thenceforth his own life. If he lived like others, according to +social conventions, he would surely die. And he did not want to die. +The fear of death was one of the strongest factors in the genesis of +the Nature Man. To live, he must have a natural diet, the open air, and +the blessed sunshine. + +Now an Oregon winter has no inducements for those who wish to return to +Nature, so Darling started out in search of a climate. He mounted a +bicycle and headed south for the sunlands. Stanford University claimed +him for a year. Here he studied and worked his way, attending lectures +in as scant garb as the authorities would allow and applying as much as +possible the principles of living that he had learned in squirrel-town. +His favourite method of study was to go off in the hills back of the +University, and there to strip off his clothes and lie on the grass, +soaking in sunshine and health at the same time that he soaked in +knowledge. + +But Central California has her winters, and the quest for a Nature +Man’s climate drew him on. He tried Los Angeles and Southern +California, being arrested a few times and brought before the insanity +commissions because, forsooth, his mode of life was not modelled after +the mode of life of his fellow-men. He tried Hawaii, where, unable to +prove him insane, the authorities deported him. It was not exactly a +deportation. He could have remained by serving a year in prison. They +gave him his choice. Now prison is death to the Nature Man, who thrives +only in the open air and in God’s sunshine. The authorities of Hawaii +are not to be blamed. Darling was an undesirable citizen. Any man is +undesirable who disagrees with one. And that any man should disagree to +the extent Darling did in his philosophy of the simple life is ample +vindication of the Hawaiian authorities verdict of his undesirableness. + +So Darling went thence in search of a climate which would not only be +desirable, but wherein he would not be undesirable. And he found it in +Tahiti, the garden-spot of garden-spots. And so it was, according to +the narrative as given, that he wrote the pages of his book. He wears +only a loin-cloth and a sleeveless fish-net shirt. His stripped weight +is one hundred and sixty-five pounds. His health is perfect. His +eyesight, that at one time was considered ruined, is excellent. The +lungs that were practically destroyed by three attacks of pneumonia +have not only recovered, but are stronger than ever before. + +I shall never forget the first time, while talking to me, that he +squashed a mosquito. The stinging pest had settled in the middle of his +back between his shoulders. Without interrupting the flow of +conversation, without dropping even a syllable, his clenched fist shot +up in the air, curved backward, and smote his back between the +shoulders, killing the mosquito and making his frame resound like a +bass drum. It reminded me of nothing so much as of horses kicking the +woodwork in their stalls. + +“The gorilla in the African jungle pounds his chest until the noise of +it can be heard half a mile away,” he will announce suddenly, and +thereat beat a hair-raising, devil’s tattoo on his own chest. + +One day he noticed a set of boxing-gloves hanging on the wall, and +promptly his eyes brightened. + +“Do you box?” I asked. + +“I used to give lessons in boxing when I was at Stanford,” was the +reply. + +And there and then we stripped and put on the gloves. Bang! a long, +gorilla arm flashed out, landing the gloved end on my nose. Biff! he +caught me, in a duck, on the side of the head nearly knocking me over +sidewise. I carried the lump raised by that blow for a week. I ducked +under a straight left, and landed a straight right on his stomach. It +was a fearful blow. The whole weight of my body was behind it, and his +body had been met as it lunged forward. I looked for him to crumple up +and go down. Instead of which his face beamed approval, and he said, +“That was beautiful.” The next instant I was covering up and striving +to protect myself from a hurricane of hooks, jolts, and uppercuts. Then +I watched my chance and drove in for the solar plexus. I hit the mark. +The Nature Man dropped his arms, gasped, and sat down suddenly. + +“I’ll be all right,” he said. “Just wait a moment.” + +And inside thirty seconds he was on his feet—ay, and returning the +compliment, for he hooked me in the solar plexus, and I gasped, dropped +my hands, and sat down just a trifle more suddenly than he had. + +All of which I submit as evidence that the man I boxed with was a +totally different man from the poor, ninety-pound weight of eight years +before, who, given up by physicians and alienists, lay gasping his life +away in a closed room in Portland, Oregon. The book that Ernest Darling +has written is a good book, and the binding is good, too. + +Hawaii has wailed for years her need for desirable immigrants. She has +spent much time, and thought, and money, in importing desirable +citizens, and she has, as yet, nothing much to show for it. Yet Hawaii +deported the Nature Man. She refused to give him a chance. So it is, to +chasten Hawaii’s proud spirit, that I take this opportunity to show her +what she has lost in the Nature Man. When he arrived in Tahiti, he +proceeded to seek out a piece of land on which to grow the food he ate. +But land was difficult to find—that is, inexpensive land. The Nature +Man was not rolling in wealth. He spent weeks in wandering over the +steep hills, until, high up the mountain, where clustered several tiny +canyons, he found eighty acres of brush-jungle which were apparently +unrecorded as the property of any one. The government officials told +him that if he would clear the land and till it for thirty years he +would be given a title for it. + +Immediately he set to work. And never was there such work. Nobody +farmed that high up. The land was covered with matted jungle and +overrun by wild pigs and countless rats. The view of Papeete and the +sea was magnificent, but the outlook was not encouraging. He spent +weeks in building a road in order to make the plantation accessible. +The pigs and the rats ate up whatever he planted as fast as it +sprouted. He shot the pigs and trapped the rats. Of the latter, in two +weeks he caught fifteen hundred. Everything had to be carried up on his +back. He usually did his packhorse work at night. + +Gradually he began to win out. A grass-walled house was built. On the +fertile, volcanic soil he had wrested from the jungle and jungle beasts +were growing five hundred cocoanut trees, five hundred papaia trees, +three hundred mango trees, many breadfruit trees and alligator-pear +trees, to say nothing of vines, bushes, and vegetables. He developed +the drip of the hills in the canyons and worked out an efficient +irrigation scheme, ditching the water from canyon to canyon and +paralleling the ditches at different altitudes. His narrow canyons +became botanical gardens. The arid shoulders of the hills, where +formerly the blazing sun had parched the jungle and beaten it close to +earth, blossomed into trees and shrubs and flowers. Not only had the +Nature Man become self-supporting, but he was now a prosperous +agriculturist with produce to sell to the city-dwellers of Papeete. + +Then it was discovered that his land, which the government officials +had informed him was without an owner, really had an owner, and that +deeds, descriptions, etc., were on record. All his work bade fare to be +lost. The land had been valueless when he took it up, and the owner, a +large landholder, was unaware of the extent to which the Nature Man had +developed it. A just price was agreed upon, and Darling’s deed was +officially filed. + +Next came a more crushing blow. Darling’s access to market was +destroyed. The road he had built was fenced across by triple barb-wire +fences. It was one of those jumbles in human affairs that is so common +in this absurdest of social systems. Behind it was the fine hand of the +same conservative element that haled the Nature Man before the Insanity +Commission in Los Angeles and that deported him from Hawaii. It is so +hard for self-satisfied men to understand any man whose satisfactions +are fundamentally different. It seems clear that the officials have +connived with the conservative element, for to this day the road the +Nature Man built is closed; nothing has been done about it, while an +adamant unwillingness to do anything about it is evidenced on every +hand. But the Nature Man dances and sings along his way. He does not +sit up nights thinking about the wrong which has been done him; he +leaves the worrying to the doers of the wrong. He has no time for +bitterness. He believes he is in the world for the purpose of being +happy, and he has not a moment to waste in any other pursuit. + +The road to his plantation is blocked. He cannot build a new road, for +there is no ground on which he can build it. The government has +restricted him to a wild-pig trail which runs precipitously up the +mountain. I climbed the trail with him, and we had to climb with hands +and feet in order to get up. Nor can that wild-pig trail be made into a +road by any amount of toil less than that of an engineer, a +steam-engine, and a steel cable. But what does the Nature Man care? In +his gentle ethics the evil men do him he requites with goodness. And +who shall say he is not happier than they? + +“Never mind their pesky road,” he said to me as we dragged ourselves up +a shelf of rock and sat down, panting, to rest. “I’ll get an air +machine soon and fool them. I’m clearing a level space for a landing +stage for the airships, and next time you come to Tahiti you will +alight right at my door.” + +Yes, the Nature Man has some strange ideas besides that of the gorilla +pounding his chest in the African jungle. The Nature Man has ideas +about levitation. “Yes, sir,” he said to me, “levitation is not +impossible. And think of the glory of it—lifting one’s self from the +ground by an act of will. Think of it! The astronomers tell us that our +whole solar system is dying; that, barring accidents, it will all be so +cold that no life can live upon it. Very well. In that day all men will +be accomplished levitationists, and they will leave this perishing +planet and seek more hospitable worlds. How can levitation be +accomplished? By progressive fasts. Yes, I have tried them, and toward +the end I could feel myself actually getting lighter.” + +The man is a maniac, thought I. + +“Of course,” he added, “these are only theories of mine. I like to +speculate upon the glorious future of man. Levitation may not be +possible, but I like to think of it as possible.” + +One evening, when he yawned, I asked him how much sleep he allowed +himself. + +“Seven hours,” was the answer. “But in ten years I’ll be sleeping only +six hours, and in twenty years only five hours. You see, I shall cut +off an hour’s sleep every ten years.” + +“Then when you are a hundred you won’t be sleeping at all,” I +interjected. + +“Just that. Exactly that. When I am a hundred I shall not require +sleep. Also, I shall be living on air. There are plants that live on +air, you know.” + +“But has any man ever succeeded in doing it?” + +He shook his head. + +“I never heard of him if he did. But it is only a theory of mine, this +living on air. It would be fine, wouldn’t it? Of course it may be +impossible—most likely it is. You see, I am not unpractical. I never +forget the present. When I soar ahead into the future, I always leave a +string by which to find my way back again.” + +I fear me the Nature Man is a joker. At any rate he lives the simple +life. His laundry bill cannot be large. Up on his plantation he lives +on fruit the labour cost of which, in cash, he estimates at five cents +a day. At present, because of his obstructed road and because he is +head over heels in the propaganda of socialism, he is living in town, +where his expenses, including rent, are twenty-five cents a day. In +order to pay those expenses he is running a night school for Chinese. + +The Nature Man is not bigoted. When there is nothing better to eat than +meat, he eats meat, as, for instance, when in jail or on shipboard and +the nuts and fruits give out. Nor does he seem to crystallize into +anything except sunburn. + +“Drop anchor anywhere and the anchor will drag—that is, if your soul is +a limitless, fathomless sea, and not dog-pound,” he quoted to me, then +added: “You see, my anchor is always dragging. I live for human health +and progress, and I strive to drag my anchor always in that direction. +To me, the two are identical. Dragging anchor is what has saved me. My +anchor did not hold me to my death-bed. I dragged anchor into the brush +and fooled the doctors. When I recovered health and strength, I +started, by preaching and by example, to teach the people to become +nature men and nature women. But they had deaf ears. Then, on the +steamer coming to Tahiti, a quarter-master expounded socialism to me. +He showed me that an economic square deal was necessary before men and +women could live naturally. So I dragged anchor once more, and now I am +working for the co-operative commonwealth. When that arrives, it will +be easy to bring about nature living. + +“I had a dream last night,” he went on thoughtfully, his face slowly +breaking into a glow. “It seemed that twenty-five nature men and nature +women had just arrived on the steamer from California, and that I was +starting to go with them up the wild-pig trail to the plantation.” + +Ah, me, Ernest Darling, sun-worshipper and nature man, there are times +when I am compelled to envy you and your carefree existence. I see you +now, dancing up the steps and cutting antics on the veranda; your hair +dripping from a plunge in the salt sea, your eyes sparkling, your +sun-gilded body flashing, your chest resounding to the devil’s own +tattoo as you chant: “The gorilla in the African jungle pounds his +chest until the noise of it can be heard half a mile away.” And I shall +see you always as I saw you that last day, when the _Snark_ poked her +nose once more through the passage in the smoking reef, outward bound, +and I waved good-bye to those on shore. Not least in goodwill and +affection was the wave I gave to the golden sun-god in the scarlet +loin-cloth, standing upright in his tiny outrigger canoe. + + + + +CHAPTER XII +THE HIGH SEAT OF ABUNDANCE + + +On the arrival of strangers, every man endeavoured to obtain one as a +friend and carry him off to his own habitation, where he is treated +with the greatest kindness by the inhabitants of the district; they +place him on a high seat and feed him with abundance of the finest +food.—_Polynesian Researches_. + +The _Snark_ was lying at anchor at Raiatea, just off the village of +Uturoa. She had arrived the night before, after dark, and we were +preparing to pay our first visit ashore. Early in the morning I had +noticed a tiny outrigger canoe, with an impossible spritsail, skimming +the surface of the lagoon. The canoe itself was coffin-shaped, a mere +dugout, fourteen feet long, a scant twelve inches wide, and maybe +twenty-four inches deep. It had no lines, except in so far that it was +sharp at both ends. Its sides were perpendicular. Shorn of the +outrigger, it would have capsized of itself inside a tenth of a second. +It was the outrigger that kept it right side up. + +I have said that the sail was impossible. It was. It was one of those +things, not that you have to see to believe, but that you cannot +believe after you have seen it. The hoist of it and the length of its +boom were sufficiently appalling; but, not content with that, its +artificer had given it a tremendous head. So large was the head that no +common sprit could carry the strain of it in an ordinary breeze. So a +spar had been lashed to the canoe, projecting aft over the water. To +this had been made fast a sprit guy: thus, the foot of the sail was +held by the main-sheet, and the peak by the guy to the sprit. + +It was not a mere boat, not a mere canoe, but a sailing machine. And +the man in it sailed it by his weight and his nerve—principally by the +latter. I watched the canoe beat up from leeward and run in toward the +village, its sole occupant far out on the outrigger and luffing up and +spilling the wind in the puffs. + +“Well, I know one thing,” I announced; “I don’t leave Raiatea till I +have a ride in that canoe.” + +A few minutes later Warren called down the companionway, “Here’s that +canoe you were talking about.” + +Promptly I dashed on deck and gave greeting to its owner, a tall, +slender Polynesian, ingenuous of face, and with clear, sparkling, +intelligent eyes. He was clad in a scarlet loin-cloth and a straw hat. +In his hands were presents—a fish, a bunch of greens, and several +enormous yams. All of which acknowledged by smiles (which are coinage +still in isolated spots of Polynesia) and by frequent repetitions of +_mauruuru_ (which is the Tahitian “thank you”), I proceeded to make +signs that I desired to go for a sail in his canoe. + +His face lighted with pleasure and he uttered the single word, “Tahaa,” +turning at the same time and pointing to the lofty, cloud-draped peaks +of an island three miles away—the island of Tahaa. It was fair wind +over, but a head-beat back. Now I did not want to go to Tahaa. I had +letters to deliver in Raiatea, and officials to see, and there was +Charmian down below getting ready to go ashore. By insistent signs I +indicated that I desired no more than a short sail on the lagoon. Quick +was the disappointment in his face, yet smiling was the acquiescence. + +“Come on for a sail,” I called below to Charmian. “But put on your +swimming suit. It’s going to be wet.” + +It wasn’t real. It was a dream. That canoe slid over the water like a +streak of silver. I climbed out on the outrigger and supplied the +weight to hold her down, while Tehei (pronounced Tayhayee) supplied the +nerve. He, too, in the puffs, climbed part way out on the outrigger, at +the same time steering with both hands on a large paddle and holding +the mainsheet with his foot. + +“Ready about!” he called. + +I carefully shifted my weight inboard in order to maintain the +equilibrium as the sail emptied. + +“Hard a-lee!” he called, shooting her into the wind. + +I slid out on the opposite side over the water on a spar lashed across +the canoe, and we were full and away on the other tack. + +“All right,” said Tehei. + +Those three phrases, “Ready about,” “Hard a-lee,” and “All right,” +comprised Tehei’s English vocabulary and led me to suspect that at some +time he had been one of a Kanaka crew under an American captain. +Between the puffs I made signs to him and repeatedly and +interrogatively uttered the word _sailor_. Then I tried it in atrocious +French. _Marin_ conveyed no meaning to him; nor did _matelot_. Either +my French was bad, or else he was not up in it. I have since concluded +that both conjectures were correct. Finally, I began naming over the +adjacent islands. He nodded that he had been to them. By the time my +quest reached Tahiti, he caught my drift. His thought-processes were +almost visible, and it was a joy to watch him think. He nodded his head +vigorously. Yes, he had been to Tahiti, and he added himself names of +islands such as Tikihau, Rangiroa, and Fakarava, thus proving that he +had sailed as far as the Paumotus—undoubtedly one of the crew of a +trading schooner. + +After our short sail, when he had returned on board, he by signs +inquired the destination of the _Snark_, and when I had mentioned +Samoa, Fiji, New Guinea, France, England, and California in their +geographical sequence, he said “Samoa,” and by gestures intimated that +he wanted to go along. Whereupon I was hard put to explain that there +was no room for him. “_Petit bateau_” finally solved it, and again the +disappointment in his face was accompanied by smiling acquiescence, and +promptly came the renewed invitation to accompany him to Tahaa. + +Charmian and I looked at each other. The exhilaration of the ride we +had taken was still upon us. Forgotten were the letters to Raiatea, the +officials we had to visit. Shoes, a shirt, a pair of trousers, +cigarettes, matches, and a book to read were hastily crammed into a +biscuit tin and wrapped in a rubber blanket, and we were over the side +and into the canoe. + +“When shall we look for you?” Warren called, as the wind filled the +sail and sent Tehei and me scurrying out on the outrigger. + +“I don’t know,” I answered. “When we get back, as near as I can figure +it.” + +And away we went. The wind had increased, and with slacked sheets we +ran off before it. The freeboard of the canoe was no more than two and +a half inches, and the little waves continually lapped over the side. +This required bailing. Now bailing is one of the principal functions of +the vahine. Vahine is the Tahitian for woman, and Charmian being the +only vahine aboard, the bailing fell appropriately to her. Tehei and I +could not very well do it, the both of us being perched part way out on +the outrigger and busied with keeping the canoe bottom-side down. So +Charmian bailed, with a wooden scoop of primitive design, and so well +did she do it that there were occasions when she could rest off almost +half the time. + +Raiatea and Tahaa are unique in that they lie inside the same +encircling reef. Both are volcanic islands, ragged of sky-line, with +heaven-aspiring peaks and minarets. Since Raiatea is thirty miles in +circumference, and Tahaa fifteen miles, some idea may be gained of the +magnitude of the reef that encloses them. Between them and the reef +stretches from one to two miles of water, forming a beautiful lagoon. +The huge Pacific seas, extending in unbroken lines sometimes a mile or +half as much again in length, hurl themselves upon the reef, +overtowering and falling upon it with tremendous crashes, and yet the +fragile coral structure withstands the shock and protects the land. +Outside lies destruction to the mightiest ship afloat. Inside reigns +the calm of untroubled water, whereon a canoe like ours can sail with +no more than a couple of inches of free-board. + +We flew over the water. And such water!—clear as the clearest +spring-water, and crystalline in its clearness, all intershot with a +maddening pageant of colours and rainbow ribbons more magnificently +gorgeous than any rainbow. Jade green alternated with turquoise, +peacock blue with emerald, while now the canoe skimmed over reddish +purple pools, and again over pools of dazzling, shimmering white where +pounded coral sand lay beneath and upon which oozed monstrous +sea-slugs. One moment we were above wonder-gardens of coral, wherein +coloured fishes disported, fluttering like marine butterflies; the next +moment we were dashing across the dark surface of deep channels, out of +which schools of flying fish lifted their silvery flight; and a third +moment we were above other gardens of living coral, each more wonderful +than the last. And above all was the tropic, trade-wind sky with its +fluffy clouds racing across the zenith and heaping the horizon with +their soft masses. + +Before we were aware, we were close in to Tahaa (pronounced Tah-hah-ah, +with equal accents), and Tehei was grinning approval of the vahine’s +proficiency at bailing. The canoe grounded on a shallow shore, twenty +feet from land, and we waded out on a soft bottom where big slugs +curled and writhed under our feet and where small octopuses advertised +their existence by their superlative softness when stepped upon. Close +to the beach, amid cocoanut palms and banana trees, erected on stilts, +built of bamboo, with a grass-thatched roof, was Tehei’s house. And out +of the house came Tehei’s vahine, a slender mite of a woman, kindly +eyed and Mongolian of feature—when she was not North American Indian. +“Bihaura,” Tehei called her, but he did not pronounce it according to +English notions of spelling. Spelled “Bihaura,” it sounded like +Bee-ah-oo-rah, with every syllable sharply emphasized. + +She took Charmian by the hand and led her into the house, leaving Tehei +and me to follow. Here, by sign-language unmistakable, we were informed +that all they possessed was ours. No hidalgo was ever more generous in +the expression of giving, while I am sure that few hidalgos were ever +as generous in the actual practice. We quickly discovered that we dare +not admire their possessions, for whenever we did admire a particular +object it was immediately presented to us. The two vahines, according +to the way of vahines, got together in a discussion and examination of +feminine fripperies, while Tehei and I, manlike, went over +fishing-tackle and wild-pig-hunting, to say nothing of the device +whereby bonitas are caught on forty-foot poles from double canoes. +Charmian admired a sewing basket—the best example she had seen of +Polynesian basketry; it was hers. I admired a bonita hook, carved in +one piece from a pearl-shell; it was mine. Charmian was attracted by a +fancy braid of straw sennit, thirty feet of it in a roll, sufficient to +make a hat of any design one wished; the roll of sennit was hers. My +gaze lingered upon a poi-pounder that dated back to the old stone days; +it was mine. Charmian dwelt a moment too long on a wooden poi-bowl, +canoe-shaped, with four legs, all carved in one piece of wood; it was +hers. I glanced a second time at a gigantic cocoanut calabash; it was +mine. Then Charmian and I held a conference in which we resolved to +admire no more—not because it did not pay well enough, but because it +paid too well. Also, we were already racking our brains over the +contents of the _Snark_ for suitable return presents. Christmas is an +easy problem compared with a Polynesian giving-feast. + +We sat on the cool porch, on Bihaura’s best mats while dinner was +preparing, and at the same time met the villagers. In twos and threes +and groups they strayed along, shaking hands and uttering the Tahitian +word of greeting—Ioarana, pronounced yo-rah-nah. The men, big strapping +fellows, were in loin-cloths, with here and there no shirt, while the +women wore the universal _ahu_, a sort of adult pinafore that flows in +graceful lines from the shoulders to the ground. Sad to see was the +elephantiasis that afflicted some of them. Here would be a comely woman +of magnificent proportions, with the port of a queen, yet marred by one +arm four times—or a dozen times—the size of the other. Beside her might +stand a six-foot man, erect, mighty-muscled, bronzed, with the body of +a god, yet with feet and calves so swollen that they ran together, +forming legs, shapeless, monstrous, that were for all the world like +elephant legs. + +No one seems really to know the cause of the South Sea elephantiasis. +One theory is that it is caused by the drinking of polluted water. +Another theory attributes it to inoculation through mosquito bites. A +third theory charges it to predisposition plus the process of +acclimatization. On the other hand, no one that stands in finicky dread +of it and similar diseases can afford to travel in the South Seas. +There will be occasions when such a one must drink water. There may be +also occasions when the mosquitoes let up biting. But every precaution +of the finicky one will be useless. If he runs barefoot across the +beach to have a swim, he will tread where an elephantiasis case trod a +few minutes before. If he closets himself in his own house, yet every +bit of fresh food on his table will have been subjected to the +contamination, be it flesh, fish, fowl, or vegetable. In the public +market at Papeete two known lepers run stalls, and heaven alone knows +through what channels arrive at that market the daily supplies of fish, +fruit, meat, and vegetables. The only happy way to go through the South +Seas is with a careless poise, without apprehension, and with a +Christian Science-like faith in the resplendent fortune of your own +particular star. When you see a woman, afflicted with elephantiasis +wringing out cream from cocoanut meat with her naked hands, drink and +reflect how good is the cream, forgetting the hands that pressed it +out. Also, remember that diseases such as elephantiasis and leprosy do +not seem to be caught by contact. + +We watched a Raratongan woman, with swollen, distorted limbs, prepare +our cocoanut cream, and then went out to the cook-shed where Tehei and +Bihaura were cooking dinner. And then it was served to us on a +dry-goods box in the house. Our hosts waited until we were done and +then spread their table on the floor. But our table! We were certainly +in the high seat of abundance. First, there was glorious raw fish, +caught several hours before from the sea and steeped the intervening +time in lime-juice diluted with water. Then came roast chicken. Two +cocoanuts, sharply sweet, served for drink. There were bananas that +tasted like strawberries and that melted in the mouth, and there was +banana-poi that made one regret that his Yankee forebears ever +attempted puddings. Then there was boiled yam, boiled taro, and roasted +_feis_, which last are nothing more or less than large mealy, juicy, +red-coloured cooking bananas. We marvelled at the abundance, and, even +as we marvelled, a pig was brought on, a whole pig, a sucking pig, +swathed in green leaves and roasted upon the hot stones of a native +oven, the most honourable and triumphant dish in the Polynesian +cuisine. And after that came coffee, black coffee, delicious coffee, +native coffee grown on the hillsides of Tahaa. + +Tehei’s fishing-tackle fascinated me, and after we arranged to go +fishing, Charmian and I decided to remain all night. Again Tehei +broached Samoa, and again my _petit bateau_ brought the disappointment +and the smile of acquiescence to his face. Bora Bora was my next port. +It was not so far away but that cutters made the passage back and forth +between it and Raiatea. So I invited Tehei to go that far with us on +the _Snark_. Then I learned that his wife had been born on Bora Bora +and still owned a house there. She likewise was invited, and +immediately came the counter invitation to stay with them in their +house in Born Bora. It was Monday. Tuesday we would go fishing and +return to Raiatea. Wednesday we would sail by Tahaa and off a certain +point, a mile away, pick up Tehei and Bihaura and go on to Bora Bora. +All this we arranged in detail, and talked over scores of other things +as well, and yet Tehei knew three phrases in English, Charmian and I +knew possibly a dozen Tahitian words, and among the four of us there +were a dozen or so French words that all understood. Of course, such +polyglot conversation was slow, but, eked out with a pad, a lead +pencil, the face of a clock Charmian drew on the back of a pad, and +with ten thousand and one gestures, we managed to get on very nicely. + +At the first moment we evidenced an inclination for bed the visiting +natives, with soft _Iaoranas_, faded away, and Tehei and Bihaura +likewise faded away. The house consisted of one large room, and it was +given over to us, our hosts going elsewhere to sleep. In truth, their +castle was ours. And right here, I want to say that of all the +entertainment I have received in this world at the hands of all sorts +of races in all sorts of places, I have never received entertainment +that equalled this at the hands of this brown-skinned couple of Tahaa. +I do not refer to the presents, the free-handed generousness, the high +abundance, but to the fineness of courtesy and consideration and tact, +and to the sympathy that was real sympathy in that it was +understanding. They did nothing they thought ought to be done for us, +according to their standards, but they did what they divined we wanted +to be done for us, while their divination was most successful. It would +be impossible to enumerate the hundreds of little acts of consideration +they performed during the few days of our intercourse. Let it suffice +for me to say that of all hospitality and entertainment I have known, +in no case was theirs not only not excelled, but in no case was it +quite equalled. Perhaps the most delightful feature of it was that it +was due to no training, to no complex social ideals, but that it was +the untutored and spontaneous outpouring from their hearts. + +The next morning we went fishing, that is, Tehei, Charmian, and I did, +in the coffin-shaped canoe; but this time the enormous sail was left +behind. There was no room for sailing and fishing at the same time in +that tiny craft. Several miles away, inside the reef, in a channel +twenty fathoms deep, Tehei dropped his baited hooks and rock-sinkers. +The bait was chunks of octopus flesh, which he bit out of a live +octopus that writhed in the bottom of the canoe. Nine of these lines he +set, each line attached to one end of a short length of bamboo floating +on the surface. When a fish was hooked, the end of the bamboo was drawn +under the water. Naturally, the other end rose up in the air, bobbing +and waving frantically for us to make haste. And make haste we did, +with whoops and yells and driving paddles, from one signalling bamboo +to another, hauling up from the depths great glistening beauties from +two to three feet in length. + +Steadily, to the eastward, an ominous squall had been rising and +blotting out the bright trade-wind sky. And we were three miles to +leeward of home. We started as the first wind-gusts whitened the water. +Then came the rain, such rain as only the tropics afford, where every +tap and main in the sky is open wide, and when, to top it all, the very +reservoir itself spills over in blinding deluge. Well, Charmian was in +a swimming suit, I was in pyjamas, and Tehei wore only a loin-cloth. +Bihaura was on the beach waiting for us, and she led Charmian into the +house in much the same fashion that the mother leads in the naughty +little girl who has been playing in mud-puddles. + +It was a change of clothes and a dry and quiet smoke while _kai-kai_ +was preparing. _Kai-kai_, by the way, is the Polynesian for “food” or +“to eat,” or, rather, it is one form of the original root, whatever it +may have been, that has been distributed far and wide over the vast +area of the Pacific. It is _kai_ in the Marquesas, Raratonga, Manahiki, +Niuë, Fakaafo, Tonga, New Zealand, and Vaté. In Tahiti “to eat” changes +to _amu_, in Hawaii and Samoa to _ai_, in Ban to _kana_, in Nina to +_kana_, in Nongone to _kaka_, and in New Caledonia to _ki_. But by +whatsoever sound or symbol, it was welcome to our ears after that long +paddle in the rain. Once more we sat in the high seat of abundance +until we regretted that we had been made unlike the image of the +giraffe and the camel. + +Again, when we were preparing to return to the _Snark_, the sky to +windward turned black and another squall swooped down. But this time it +was little rain and all wind. It blew hour after hour, moaning and +screeching through the palms, tearing and wrenching and shaking the +frail bamboo dwelling, while the outer reef set up a mighty thundering +as it broke the force of the swinging seas. Inside the reef, the +lagoon, sheltered though it was, was white with fury, and not even +Tehei’s seamanship could have enabled his slender canoe to live in such +a welter. + +By sunset, the back of the squall had broken though it was still too +rough for the canoe. So I had Tehei find a native who was willing to +venture his cutter across to Raiatea for the outrageous sum of two +dollars, Chili, which is equivalent in our money to ninety cents. Half +the village was told off to carry presents, with which Tehei and +Bihaura speeded their parting guests—captive chickens, fishes dressed +and swathed in wrappings of green leaves, great golden bunches of +bananas, leafy baskets spilling over with oranges and limes, alligator +pears (the butter-fruit, also called the _avoca_), huge baskets of +yams, bunches of taro and cocoanuts, and last of all, large branches +and trunks of trees—firewood for the _Snark_. + +While on the way to the cutter we met the only white man on Tahaa, and +of all men, George Lufkin, a native of New England! Eighty-six years of +age he was, sixty-odd of which, he said, he had spent in the Society +Islands, with occasional absences, such as the gold rush to Eldorado in +’forty-nine and a short period of ranching in California near Tulare. +Given no more than three months by the doctors to live, he had returned +to his South Seas and lived to eighty-six and to chuckle over the +doctors aforesaid, who were all in their graves. _Fee-fee_ he had, +which is the native for elephantiasis and which is pronounced fay-fay. +A quarter of a century before, the disease had fastened upon him, and +it would remain with him until he died. We asked him about kith and +kin. Beside him sat a sprightly damsel of sixty, his daughter. “She is +all I have,” he murmured plaintively, “and she has no children living.” + +The cutter was a small, sloop-rigged affair, but large it seemed +alongside Tehei’s canoe. On the other hand, when we got out on the +lagoon and were struck by another heavy wind-squall, the cutter became +liliputian, while the _Snark_, in our imagination, seemed to promise +all the stability and permanence of a continent. They were good +boatmen. Tehei and Bihaura had come along to see us home, and the +latter proved a good boatwoman herself. The cutter was well ballasted, +and we met the squall under full sail. It was getting dark, the lagoon +was full of coral patches, and we were carrying on. In the height of +the squall we had to go about, in order to make a short leg to windward +to pass around a patch of coral no more than a foot under the surface. +As the cutter filled on the other tack, and while she was in that +“dead” condition that precedes gathering way, she was knocked flat. +Jib-sheet and main-sheet were let go, and she righted into the wind. +Three times she was knocked down, and three times the sheets were flung +loose, before she could get away on that tack. + +By the time we went about again, darkness had fallen. We were now to +windward of the _Snark_, and the squall was howling. In came the jib, +and down came the mainsail, all but a patch of it the size of a +pillow-slip. By an accident we missed the _Snark_, which was riding it +out to two anchors, and drove aground upon the inshore coral. Running +the longest line on the _Snark_ by means of the launch, and after an +hour’s hard work, we heaved the cutter off and had her lying safely +astern. + +The day we sailed for Bora Bora the wind was light, and we crossed the +lagoon under power to the point where Tehei and Bihaura were to meet +us. As we made in to the land between the coral banks, we vainly +scanned the shore for our friends. There was no sign of them. + +“We can’t wait,” I said. “This breeze won’t fetch us to Bora Bora by +dark, and I don’t want to use any more gasolene than I have to.” + +You see, gasolene in the South Seas is a problem. One never knows when +he will be able to replenish his supply. + +But just then Tehei appeared through the trees as he came down to the +water. He had peeled off his shirt and was wildly waving it. Bihaura +apparently was not ready. Once aboard, Tehei informed us by signs that +we must proceed along the land till we got opposite to his house. He +took the wheel and conned the _Snark_ through the coral, around point +after point till we cleared the last point of all. Cries of welcome +went up from the beach, and Bihaura, assisted by several of the +villagers, brought off two canoe-loads of abundance. There were yams, +taro, _feis_, breadfruit, cocoanuts, oranges, limes, pineapples, +watermelons, alligator pears, pomegranates, fish, chickens galore +crowing and cackling and laying eggs on our decks, and a live pig that +squealed infernally and all the time in apprehension of imminent +slaughter. + +Under the rising moon we came in through the perilous passage of the +reef of Bora Bora and dropped anchor off Vaitapé village. Bihaura, with +housewifely anxiety, could not get ashore too quickly to her house to +prepare more abundance for us. While the launch was taking her and +Tehei to the little jetty, the sound of music and of singing drifted +across the quiet lagoon. Throughout the Society Islands we had been +continually informed that we would find the Bora Borans very jolly. +Charmian and I went ashore to see, and on the village green, by +forgotten graves on the beach, found the youths and maidens dancing, +flower-garlanded and flower-bedecked, with strange phosphorescent +flowers in their hair that pulsed and dimmed and glowed in the +moonlight. Farther along the beach we came upon a huge grass house, +oval-shaped seventy feet in length, where the elders of the village +were singing _himines_. They, too, were flower-garlanded and jolly, and +they welcomed us into the fold as little lost sheep straying along from +outer darkness. + +Early next morning Tehei was on board, with a string of fresh-caught +fish and an invitation to dinner for that evening. On the way to +dinner, we dropped in at the _himine_ house. The same elders were +singing, with here or there a youth or maiden that we had not seen the +previous night. From all the signs, a feast was in preparation. +Towering up from the floor was a mountain of fruits and vegetables, +flanked on either side by numerous chickens tethered by cocoanut +strips. After several _himines_ had been sung, one of the men arose and +made oration. The oration was made to us, and though it was Greek to +us, we knew that in some way it connected us with that mountain of +provender. + +“Can it be that they are presenting us with all that?” Charmian +whispered. + +“Impossible,” I muttered back. “Why should they be giving it to us? +Besides, there is no room on the _Snark_ for it. We could not eat a +tithe of it. The rest would spoil. Maybe they are inviting us to the +feast. At any rate, that they should give all that to us is +impossible.” + +Nevertheless we found ourselves once more in the high seat of +abundance. The orator, by gestures unmistakable, in detail presented +every item in the mountain to us, and next he presented it to us _in +toto_. It was an embarrassing moment. What would you do if you lived in +a hall bedroom and a friend gave you a white elephant? Our _Snark_ was +no more than a hall bedroom, and already she was loaded down with the +abundance of Tahaa. This new supply was too much. We blushed, and +stammered, and _mauruuru’d_. We _mauruuru’d_ with repeated _nui’s_ +which conveyed the largeness and overwhelmingness of our thanks. At the +same time, by signs, we committed the awful breach of etiquette of not +accepting the present. The _himine_ singers’ disappointment was plainly +betrayed, and that evening, aided by Tehei, we compromised by accepting +one chicken, one bunch of bananas, one bunch of taro, and so on down +the list. + +But there was no escaping the abundance. I bought a dozen chickens from +a native out in the country, and the following day he delivered +thirteen chickens along with a canoe-load of fruit. The French +storekeeper presented us with pomegranates and lent us his finest +horse. The gendarme did likewise, lending us a horse that was the very +apple of his eye. And everybody sent us flowers. The _Snark_ was a +fruit-stand and a greengrocer’s shop masquerading under the guise of a +conservatory. We went around flower-garlanded all the time. When the +_himine_ singers came on board to sing, the maidens kissed us welcome, +and the crew, from captain to cabin-boy, lost its heart to the maidens +of Bora Bora. Tehei got up a big fishing expedition in our honour, to +which we went in a double canoe, paddled by a dozen strapping Amazons. +We were relieved that no fish were caught, else the _Snark_ would have +sunk at her moorings. + +The days passed, but the abundance did not diminish. On the day of +departure, canoe after canoe put off to us. Tehei brought cucumbers and +a young _papaia_ tree burdened with splendid fruit. Also, for me he +brought a tiny, double canoe with fishing apparatus complete. Further, +he brought fruits and vegetables with the same lavishness as at Tahaa. +Bihaura brought various special presents for Charmian, such as +silk-cotton pillows, fans, and fancy mats. The whole population brought +fruits, flowers, and chickens. And Bihaura added a live sucking pig. +Natives whom I did not remember ever having seen before strayed over +the rail and presented me with such things as fish-poles, fish-lines, +and fish-hooks carved from pearl-shell. + +As the _Snark_ sailed out through the reef, she had a cutter in tow. +This was the craft that was to take Bihaura back to Tahaa—but not +Tehei. I had yielded at last, and he was one of the crew of the +_Snark_. When the cutter cast off and headed east, and the _Snark’s_ +bow turned toward the west, Tehei knelt down by the cockpit and +breathed a silent prayer, the tears flowing down his cheeks. A week +later, when Martin got around to developing and printing, he showed +Tehei some of the photographs. And that brown-skinned son of Polynesia, +gazing on the pictured lineaments of his beloved Bihaura broke down in +tears. + +But the abundance! There was so much of it. We could not work the +_Snark_ for the fruit that was in the way. She was festooned with +fruit. The life-boat and launch were packed with it. The awning-guys +groaned under their burdens. But once we struck the full trade-wind +sea, the disburdening began. At every roll the _Snark_ shook overboard +a bunch or so of bananas and cocoanuts, or a basket of limes. A golden +flood of limes washed about in the lee-scuppers. The big baskets of +yams burst, and pineapples and pomegranates rolled back and forth. The +chickens had got loose and were everywhere, roosting on the awnings, +fluttering and squawking out on the jib-boom, and essaying the perilous +feat of balancing on the spinnaker-boom. They were wild chickens, +accustomed to flight. When attempts were made to catch them, they flew +out over the ocean, circled about, and came back. Sometimes they did +not come back. And in the confusion, unobserved, the little sucking pig +got loose and slipped overboard. + +“On the arrival of strangers, every man endeavoured to obtain one as a +friend and carry him off to his own habitation, where he is treated +with the greatest kindness by the inhabitants of the district: they +place him on a high seat and feed him with abundance of the finest +foods.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIII +THE STONE-FISHING OF BORA BORA + + +At five in the morning the conches began to blow. From all along the +beach the eerie sounds arose, like the ancient voice of War, calling to +the fishermen to arise and prepare to go forth. We on the _Snark_ +likewise arose, for there could be no sleep in that mad din of conches. +Also, we were going stone-fishing, though our preparations were few. + +_Tautai-taora_ is the name for stone-fishing, _tautai_ meaning a +“fishing instrument.” And _taora_ meaning “thrown.” But _tautai-taora_, +in combination, means “stone-fishing,” for a stone is the instrument +that is thrown. Stone-fishing is in reality a fish-drive, similar in +principle to a rabbit-drive or a cattle-drive, though in the latter +affairs drivers and driven operate in the same medium, while in the +fish-drive the men must be in the air to breathe and the fish are +driven through the water. It does not matter if the water is a hundred +feet deep, the men, working on the surface, drive the fish just the +same. + +This is the way it is done. The canoes form in line, one hundred to two +hundred feet apart. In the bow of each canoe a man wields a stone, +several pounds in weight, which is attached to a short rope. He merely +smites the water with the stone, pulls up the stone, and smites again. +He goes on smiting. In the stern of each canoe another man paddles, +driving the canoe ahead and at the same time keeping it in the +formation. The line of canoes advances to meet a second line a mile or +two away, the ends of the lines hurrying together to form a circle, the +far edge of which is the shore. The circle begins to contract upon the +shore, where the women, standing in a long row out into the sea, form a +fence of legs, which serves to break any rushes of the frantic fish. At +the right moment when the circle is sufficiently small, a canoe dashes +out from shore, dropping overboard a long screen of cocoanut leaves and +encircling the circle, thus reinforcing the palisade of legs. Of +course, the fishing is always done inside the reef in the lagoon. + +“_Très jolie_,” the gendarme said, after explaining by signs and +gestures that thousands of fish would be caught of all sizes from +minnows to sharks, and that the captured fish would boil up and upon +the very sand of the beach. + +It is a most successful method of fishing, while its nature is more +that of an outing festival, rather than of a prosaic, food-getting +task. Such fishing parties take place about once a month at Bora Bora, +and it is a custom that has descended from old time. The man who +originated it is not remembered. They always did this thing. But one +cannot help wondering about that forgotten savage of the long ago, into +whose mind first flashed this scheme of easy fishing, of catching huge +quantities of fish without hook, or net, or spear. One thing about him +we can know: he was a radical. And we can be sure that he was +considered feather-brained and anarchistic by his conservative +tribesmen. His difficulty was much greater than that of the modern +inventor, who has to convince in advance only one or two capitalists. +That early inventor had to convince his whole tribe in advance, for +without the co-operation of the whole tribe the device could not be +tested. One can well imagine the nightly pow-wow-ings in that primitive +island world, when he called his comrades antiquated moss-backs, and +they called him a fool, a freak, and a crank, and charged him with +having come from Kansas. Heaven alone knows at what cost of grey hairs +and expletives he must finally have succeeded in winning over a +sufficient number to give his idea a trial. At any rate, the experiment +succeeded. It stood the test of truth—it worked! And thereafter, we can +be confident, there was no man to be found who did not know all along +that it was going to work. + +Our good friends, Tehei and Bihaura, who were giving the fishing in our +honour, had promised to come for us. We were down below when the call +came from on deck that they were coming. We dashed up the companionway, +to be overwhelmed by the sight of the Polynesian barge in which we were +to ride. It was a long double canoe, the canoes lashed together by +timbers with an interval of water between, and the whole decorated with +flowers and golden grasses. A dozen flower-crowned Amazons were at the +paddles, while at the stern of each canoe was a strapping steersman. +All were garlanded with gold and crimson and orange flowers, while each +wore about the hips a scarlet _pareu_. There were flowers everywhere, +flowers, flowers, flowers, without end. The whole thing was an orgy of +colour. On the platform forward resting on the bows of the canoes, +Tehei and Bihaura were dancing. All voices were raised in a wild song +or greeting. + +Three times they circled the _Snark_ before coming alongside to take +Charmian and me on board. Then it was away for the fishing-grounds, a +five-mile paddle dead to windward. “Everybody is jolly in Bora Bora,” +is the saying throughout the Society Islands, and we certainly found +everybody jolly. Canoe songs, shark songs, and fishing songs were sung +to the dipping of the paddles, all joining in on the swinging choruses. +Once in a while the cry _Mao_! was raised, whereupon all strained like +mad at the paddles. Mao is shark, and when the deep-sea tigers appear, +the natives paddle for dear life for the shore, knowing full well the +danger they run of having their frail canoes overturned and of being +devoured. Of course, in our case there were no sharks, but the cry of +_mao_ was used to incite them to paddle with as much energy as if a +shark were really after them. “Hoé! Hoé!” was another cry that made us +foam through the water. + +On the platform Tehei and Bihaura danced, accompanied by songs and +choruses or by rhythmic hand-clappings. At other times a musical +knocking of the paddles against the sides of the canoes marked the +accent. A young girl dropped her paddle, leaped to the platform, and +danced a hula, in the midst of which, still dancing, she swayed and +bent, and imprinted on our cheeks the kiss of welcome. Some of the +songs, or _himines_, were religious, and they were especially +beautiful, the deep basses of the men mingling with the altos and thin +sopranos of the women and forming a combination of sound that +irresistibly reminded one of an organ. In fact, “kanaka organ” is the +scoffer’s description of the _himine_. On the other hand, some of the +chants or ballads were very barbaric, having come down from +pre-Christian times. + +And so, singing, dancing, paddling, these joyous Polynesians took us to +the fishing. The gendarme, who is the French ruler of Bora Bora, +accompanied us with his family in a double canoe of his own, paddled by +his prisoners; for not only is he gendarme and ruler, but he is jailer +as well, and in this jolly land when anybody goes fishing, all go +fishing. A score of single canoes, with outriggers, paddled along with +us. Around a point a big sailing-canoe appeared, running beautifully +before the wind as it bore down to greet us. Balancing precariously on +the outrigger, three young men saluted us with a wild rolling of drums. + +The next point, half a mile farther on, brought us to the place of +meeting. Here the launch, which had been brought along by Warren and +Martin, attracted much attention. The Bora Borans could not see what +made it go. The canoes were drawn upon the sand, and all hands went +ashore to drink cocoanuts and sing and dance. Here our numbers were +added to by many who arrived on foot from near-by dwellings, and a +pretty sight it was to see the flower-crowned maidens, hand in hand and +two by two, arriving along the sands. + +“They usually make a big catch,” Allicot, a half-caste trader, told us. +“At the finish the water is fairly alive with fish. It is lots of fun. +Of course you know all the fish will be yours.” + +“All?” I groaned, for already the _Snark_ was loaded down with lavish +presents, by the canoe-load, of fruits, vegetables, pigs, and chickens. + +“Yes, every last fish,” Allicot answered. “You see, when the surround +is completed, you, being the guest of honour, must take a harpoon and +impale the first one. It is the custom. Then everybody goes in with +their hands and throws the catch out on the sand. There will be a +mountain of them. Then one of the chiefs will make a speech in which he +presents you with the whole kit and boodle. But you don’t have to take +them all. You get up and make a speech, selecting what fish you want +for yourself and presenting all the rest back again. Then everybody +says you are very generous.” + +“But what would be the result if I kept the whole present?” I asked. + +“It has never happened,” was the answer. “It is the custom to give and +give back again.” + +The native minister started with a prayer for success in the fishing, +and all heads were bared. Next, the chief fishermen told off the canoes +and allotted them their places. Then it was into the canoes and away. +No women, however, came along, with the exception of Bihaura and +Charmian. In the old days even they would have been tabooed. The women +remained behind to wade out into the water and form the palisade of +legs. + +The big double canoe was left on the beach, and we went in the launch. +Half the canoes paddled off to leeward, while we, with the other half, +headed to windward a mile and a half, until the end of our line was in +touch with the reef. The leader of the drive occupied a canoe midway in +our line. He stood erect, a fine figure of an old man, holding a flag +in his hand. He directed the taking of positions and the forming of the +two lines by blowing on a conch. When all was ready, he waved his flag +to the right. With a single splash the throwers in every canoe on that +side struck the water with their stones. While they were hauling them +back—a matter of a moment, for the stones scarcely sank beneath the +surface—the flag waved to the left, and with admirable precision every +stone on that side struck the water. So it went, back and forth, right +and left; with every wave of the flag a long line of concussion smote +the lagoon. At the same time the paddles drove the canoes forward and +what was being done in our line was being done in the opposing line of +canoes a mile and more away. + +On the bow of the launch, Tehei, with eyes fixed on the leader, worked +his stone in unison with the others. Once, the stone slipped from the +rope, and the same instant Tehei went overboard after it. I do not know +whether or not that stone reached the bottom, but I do know that the +next instant Tehei broke surface alongside with the stone in his hand. +I noticed this same accident occur several times among the near-by +canoes, but in each instance the thrower followed the stone and brought +it back. + +The reef ends of our lines accelerated, the shore ends lagged, all +under the watchful supervision of the leader, until at the reef the two +lines joined, forming the circle. Then the contraction of the circle +began, the poor frightened fish harried shoreward by the streaks of +concussion that smote the water. In the same fashion elephants are +driven through the jungle by motes of men who crouch in the long +grasses or behind trees and make strange noises. Already the palisade +of legs had been built. We could see the heads of the women, in a long +line, dotting the placid surface of the lagoon. The tallest women went +farthest out, thus, with the exception of those close inshore, nearly +all were up to their necks in the water. + +Still the circle narrowed, till canoes were almost touching. There was +a pause. A long canoe shot out from shore, following the line of the +circle. It went as fast as paddles could drive. In the stern a man +threw overboard the long, continuous screen of cocoanut leaves. The +canoes were no longer needed, and overboard went the men to reinforce +the palisade with their legs. For the screen was only a screen, and not +a net, and the fish could dash through it if they tried. Hence the need +for legs that ever agitated the screen, and for hands that splashed and +throats that yelled. Pandemonium reigned as the trap tightened. + +But no fish broke surface or collided against the hidden legs. At last +the chief fisherman entered the trap. He waded around everywhere, +carefully. But there were no fish boiling up and out upon the sand. +There was not a sardine, not a minnow, not a polly-wog. Something must +have been wrong with that prayer; or else, and more likely, as one +grizzled fellow put it, the wind was not in its usual quarter and the +fish were elsewhere in the lagoon. In fact, there had been no fish to +drive. + +“About once in five these drives are failures,” Allicot consoled us. + +Well, it was the stone-fishing that had brought us to Bora Bora, and it +was our luck to draw the one chance in five. Had it been a raffle, it +would have been the other way about. This is not pessimism. Nor is it +an indictment of the plan of the universe. It is merely that feeling +which is familiar to most fishermen at the empty end of a hard day. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV +THE AMATEUR NAVIGATOR + + +There are captains and captains, and some mighty fine captains, I know; +but the run of the captains on the _Snark_ has been remarkably +otherwise. My experience with them has been that it is harder to take +care of one captain on a small boat than of two small babies. Of +course, this is no more than is to be expected. The good men have +positions, and are not likely to forsake their +one-thousand-to-fifteen-thousand-ton billets for the _Snark_ with her +ten tons net. The _Snark_ has had to cull her navigators from the +beach, and the navigator on the beach is usually a congenital +inefficient—the sort of man who beats about for a fortnight trying +vainly to find an ocean isle and who returns with his schooner to +report the island sunk with all on board, the sort of man whose temper +or thirst for strong waters works him out of billets faster than he can +work into them. + +The _Snark_ has had three captains, and by the grace of God she shall +have no more. The first captain was so senile as to be unable to give a +measurement for a boom-jaw to a carpenter. So utterly agedly helpless +was he, that he was unable to order a sailor to throw a few buckets of +salt water on the _Snark’s_ deck. For twelve days, at anchor, under an +overhead tropic sun, the deck lay dry. It was a new deck. It cost me +one hundred and thirty-five dollars to recaulk it. The second captain +was angry. He was born angry. “Papa is always angry,” was the +description given him by his half-breed son. The third captain was so +crooked that he couldn’t hide behind a corkscrew. The truth was not in +him, common honesty was not in him, and he was as far away from fair +play and square-dealing as he was from his proper course when he nearly +wrecked the _Snark_ on the Ring-gold Isles. + +It was at Suva, in the Fijis, that I discharged my third and last +captain and took up gain the rôle of amateur navigator. I had essayed +it once before, under my first captain, who, out of San Francisco, +jumped the _Snark_ so amazingly over the chart that I really had to +find out what was doing. It was fairly easy to find out, for we had a +run of twenty-one hundred miles before us. I knew nothing of +navigation; but, after several hours of reading up and half an hour’s +practice with the sextant, I was able to find the _Snark’s_ latitude by +meridian observation and her longitude by the simple method known as +“equal altitudes.” This is not a correct method. It is not even a safe +method, but my captain was attempting to navigate by it, and he was the +only one on board who should have been able to tell me that it was a +method to be eschewed. I brought the _Snark_ to Hawaii, but the +conditions favoured me. The sun was in northern declination and nearly +overhead. The legitimate “chronometer-sight” method of ascertaining the +longitude I had not heard of—yes, I had heard of it. My first captain +mentioned it vaguely, but after one or two attempts at practice of it +he mentioned it no more. + +I had time in the Fijis to compare my chronometer with two other +chronometers. Two weeks previous, at Pago Pago, in Samoa, I had asked +my captain to compare our chronometer with the chronometers on the +American cruiser, the _Annapolis_. This he told me he had done—of +course he had done nothing of the sort; and he told me that the +difference he had ascertained was only a small fraction of a second. He +told it to me with finely simulated joy and with words of praise for my +splendid time-keeper. I repeat it now, with words of praise for his +splendid and unblushing unveracity. For behold, fourteen days later, in +Suva, I compared the chronometer with the one on the Atua, an +Australian steamer, and found that mine was thirty-one seconds fast. +Now thirty-one seconds of time, converted into arc, equals seven and +one-quarter miles. That is to say, if I were sailing west, in the +night-time, and my position, according to my dead reckoning from my +afternoon chronometer sight, was shown to be seven miles off the land, +why, at that very moment I would be crashing on the reef. Next I +compared my chronometer with Captain Wooley’s. Captain Wooley, the +harbourmaster, gives the time to Suva, firing a gun signal at twelve, +noon, three times a week. According to his chronometer mine was +fifty-nine seconds fast, which is to say, that, sailing west, I should +be crashing on the reef when I thought I was fifteen miles off from it. + +I compromised by subtracting thirty-one seconds from the total of my +chronometer’s losing error, and sailed away for Tanna, in the New +Hebrides, resolved, when nosing around the land on dark nights, to bear +in mind the other seven miles I might be out according to Captain +Wooley’s instrument. Tanna lay some six hundred miles west-southwest +from the Fijis, and it was my belief that while covering that distance +I could quite easily knock into my head sufficient navigation to get me +there. Well, I got there, but listen first to my troubles. Navigation +_is_ easy, I shall always contend that; but when a man is taking three +gasolene engines and a wife around the world and is writing hard every +day to keep the engines supplied with gasolene and the wife with pearls +and volcanoes, he hasn’t much time left in which to study navigation. +Also, it is bound to be easier to study said science ashore, where +latitude and longitude are unchanging, in a house whose position never +alters, than it is to study navigation on a boat that is rushing along +day and night toward land that one is trying to find and which he is +liable to find disastrously at a moment when he least expects it. + +To begin with, there are the compasses and the setting of the courses. +We sailed from Suva on Saturday afternoon, June 6, 1908, and it took us +till after dark to run the narrow, reef-ridden passage between the +islands of Viti Levu and Mbengha. The open ocean lay before me. There +was nothing in the way with the exception of Vatu Leile, a miserable +little island that persisted in poking up through the sea some twenty +miles to the west-southwest—just where I wanted to go. Of course, it +seemed quite simple to avoid it by steering a course that would pass it +eight or ten miles to the north. It was a black night, and we were +running before the wind. The man at the wheel must be told what +direction to steer in order to miss Vatu Leile. But what direction? I +turned me to the navigation books. “True Course” I lighted upon. The +very thing! What I wanted was the true course. I read eagerly on: + +“The True Course is the angle made with the meridian by a straight line +on the chart drawn to connect the ship’s position with the place bound +to.” + +Just what I wanted. The _Snark’s_ position was at the western entrance +of the passage between Viti Levu and Mbengha. The immediate place she +was bound to was a place on the chart ten miles north of Vatu Leile. I +pricked that place off on the chart with my dividers, and with my +parallel rulers found that west-by-south was the true course. I had but +to give it to the man at the wheel and the _Snark_ would win her way to +the safety of the open sea. + +But alas and alack and lucky for me, I read on. I discovered that the +compass, that trusty, everlasting friend of the mariner, was not given +to pointing north. It varied. Sometimes it pointed east of north, +sometimes west of north, and on occasion it even turned tail on north +and pointed south. The variation at the particular spot on the globe +occupied by the _Snark_ was 9° 40′ easterly. Well, that had to be taken +into account before I gave the steering course to the man at the wheel. +I read: + +“The Correct Magnetic Course is derived from the True Course by +applying to it the variation.” + +Therefore, I reasoned, if the compass points 9° 40′ eastward of north, +and I wanted to sail due north, I should have to steer 9° 40′ westward +of the north indicated by the compass and which was not north at all. +So I added 9° 40′ to the left of my west-by-south course, thus getting +my correct Magnetic Course, and was ready once more to run to open sea. + +Again alas and alack! The Correct Magnetic Course was not the Compass +Course. There was another sly little devil lying in wait to trip me up +and land me smashing on the reefs of Vatu Leile. This little devil went +by the name of Deviation. I read: + +“The Compass Course is the course to steer, and is derived from the +Correct Magnetic Course by applying to it the Deviation.” + +Now Deviation is the variation in the needle caused by the distribution +of iron on board of ship. This purely local variation I derived from +the deviation card of my standard compass and then applied to the +Correct Magnetic Course. The result was the Compass Course. And yet, +not yet. My standard compass was amidships on the companionway. My +steering compass was aft, in the cockpit, near the wheel. When the +steering compass pointed west-by-south three-quarters-south (the +steering course), the standard compass pointed west-one-half-north, +which was certainly not the steering course. I kept the _Snark_ up till +she was heading west-by-south-three-quarters-south on the standard +compass, which gave, on the steering compass, south-west-by-west. + +The foregoing operations constitute the simple little matter of setting +a course. And the worst of it is that one must perform every step +correctly or else he will hear “Breakers ahead!” some pleasant night, a +nice sea-bath, and be given the delightful diversion of fighting his +way to the shore through a horde of man-eating sharks. + +Just as the compass is tricky and strives to fool the mariner by +pointing in all directions except north, so does that guide post of the +sky, the sun, persist in not being where it ought to be at a given +time. This carelessness of the sun is the cause of more trouble—at +least it caused trouble for me. To find out where one is on the earth’s +surface, he must know, at precisely the same time, where the sun is in +the heavens. That is to say, the sun, which is the timekeeper for men, +doesn’t run on time. When I discovered this, I fell into deep gloom and +all the Cosmos was filled with doubt. Immutable laws, such as +gravitation and the conservation of energy, became wobbly, and I was +prepared to witness their violation at any moment and to remain +unastonished. For see, if the compass lied and the sun did not keep its +engagements, why should not objects lose their mutual attraction and +why should not a few bushel baskets of force be annihilated? Even +perpetual motion became possible, and I was in a frame of mind prone to +purchase Keeley-Motor stock from the first enterprising agent that +landed on the _Snark’s_ deck. And when I discovered that the earth +really rotated on its axis 366 times a year, while there were only 365 +sunrises and sunsets, I was ready to doubt my own identity. + +This is the way of the sun. It is so irregular that it is impossible +for man to devise a clock that will keep the sun’s time. The sun +accelerates and retards as no clock could be made to accelerate and +retard. The sun is sometimes ahead of its schedule; at other times it +is lagging behind; and at still other times it is breaking the speed +limit in order to overtake itself, or, rather, to catch up with where +it ought to be in the sky. In this last case it does not slow down +quick enough, and, as a result, goes dashing ahead of where it ought to +be. In fact, only four days in a year do the sun and the place where +the sun ought to be happen to coincide. The remaining 361 days the sun +is pothering around all over the shop. Man, being more perfect than the +sun, makes a clock that keeps regular time. Also, he calculates how far +the sun is ahead of its schedule or behind. The difference between the +sun’s position and the position where the sun ought to be if it were a +decent, self-respecting sun, man calls the Equation of Time. Thus, the +navigator endeavouring to find his ship’s position on the sea, looks in +his chronometer to see where precisely the sun ought to be according to +the Greenwich custodian of the sun. Then to that location he applies +the Equation of Time and finds out where the sun ought to be and isn’t. +This latter location, along with several other locations, enables him +to find out what the man from Kansas demanded to know some years ago. + +The _Snark_ sailed from Fiji on Saturday, June 6, and the next day, +Sunday, on the wide ocean, out of sight of land, I proceeded to +endeavour to find out my position by a chronometer sight for longitude +and by a meridian observation for latitude. The chronometer sight was +taken in the morning when the sun was some 21° above the horizon. I +looked in the Nautical Almanac and found that on that very day, June 7, +the sun was behind time 1 minute and 26 seconds, and that it was +catching up at a rate of 14.67 seconds per hour. The chronometer said +that at the precise moment of taking the sun’s altitude it was +twenty-five minutes after eight o’clock at Greenwich. From this date it +would seem a schoolboy’s task to correct the Equation of Time. +Unfortunately, I was not a schoolboy. Obviously, at the middle of the +day, at Greenwich, the sun was 1 minute and 26 seconds behind time. +Equally obviously, if it were eleven o’clock in the morning, the sun +would be 1 minute and 26 seconds behind time plus 14.67 seconds. If it +were ten o’clock in the morning, twice 14.67 seconds would have to be +added. And if it were 8: 25 in the morning, then 3½ times 14.67 seconds +would have to be added. Quite clearly, then, if, instead of being 8:25 +A.M., it were 8:25 P.M., then 8½ times 14.67 seconds would have to be, +not added, but _subtracted_; for, if, at noon, the sun were 1 minute +and 26 seconds behind time, and if it were catching up with where it +ought to be at the rate of 14.67 seconds per hour, then at 8.25 P.M. it +would be much nearer where it ought to be than it had been at noon. + +So far, so good. But was that 8:25 of the chronometer A.M., or P.M.? I +looked at the _Snark’s_ clock. It marked 8:9, and it was certainly A.M. +for I had just finished breakfast. Therefore, if it was eight in the +morning on board the _Snark_, the eight o’clock of the chronometer +(which was the time of the day at Greenwich) must be a different eight +o’clock from the _Snark’s_ eight o’clock. But what eight o’clock was +it? It can’t be the eight o’clock of this morning, I reasoned; +therefore, it must be either eight o’clock this evening or eight +o’clock last night. + +It was at this juncture that I fell into the bottomless pit of +intellectual chaos. We are in east longitude, I reasoned, therefore we +are ahead of Greenwich. If we are behind Greenwich, then to-day is +yesterday; if we are ahead of Greenwich, then yesterday is to-day, but +if yesterday is to-day, what under the sun is to-day!—to-morrow? +Absurd! Yet it must be correct. When I took the sun this morning at +8:25, the sun’s custodians at Greenwich were just arising from dinner +last night. + +“Then correct the Equation of Time for yesterday,” says my logical +mind. + +“But to-day is to-day,” my literal mind insists. “I must correct the +sun for to-day and not for yesterday.” + +“Yet to-day is yesterday,” urges my logical mind. + +“That’s all very well,” my literal mind continues, “If I were in +Greenwich I might be in yesterday. Strange things happen in Greenwich. +But I know as sure as I am living that I am here, now, in to-day, June +7, and that I took the sun here, now, to-day, June 7. Therefore, I must +correct the sun here, now, to-day, June 7.” + +“Bosh!” snaps my logical mind. “Lecky says—” + +“Never mind what Lecky says,” interrupts my literal mind. “Let me tell +you what the Nautical Almanac says. The Nautical Almanac says that +to-day, June 7, the sun was 1 minute and 26 seconds behind time and +catching up at the rate of 14.67 seconds per hour. It says that +yesterday, June 6, the sun was 1 minute and 36 seconds behind time and +catching up at the rate of 15.66 seconds per hour. You see, it is +preposterous to think of correcting to-day’s sun by yesterday’s +time-table.” + +“Fool!” + +“Idiot!” + +Back and forth they wrangle until my head is whirling around and I am +ready to believe that I am in the day after the last week before next. + +I remembered a parting caution of the Suva harbour-master: “_In east +longitude take from the Nautical Almanac the elements for the preceding +day_.” + +Then a new thought came to me. I corrected the Equation of Time for +Sunday and for Saturday, making two separate operations of it, and lo, +when the results were compared, there was a difference only of +four-tenths of a second. I was a changed man. I had found my way out of +the crypt. The _Snark_ was scarcely big enough to hold me and my +experience. Four-tenths of a second would make a difference of only +one-tenth of a mile—a cable-length! + +All went merrily for ten minutes, when I chanced upon the following +rhyme for navigators: +“Greenwich time least +Longitude east; +Greenwich best, +Longitude west.” + +Heavens! The _Snark’s_ time was not as good as Greenwich time. When it +was 8:25 at Greenwich, on board the _Snark_ it was only 8:9. “Greenwich +time best, longitude west.” There I was. In west longitude beyond a +doubt. + +“Silly!” cries my literal mind. “You are 8:9 A.M. and Greenwich is 8:25 +P.M.” + +“Very well,” answers my logical mind. “To be correct, 8.25 P.M. is +really twenty hours and twenty-five minutes, and that is certainly +better than eight hours and nine minutes. No, there is no discussion; +you are in west longitude.” + +Then my literal mind triumphs. + +“We sailed from Suva, in the Fijis, didn’t we?” it demands, and logical +mind agrees. “And Suva is in east longitude?” Again logical mind +agrees. “And we sailed west (which would take us deeper into east +longitude), didn’t we? Therefore, and you can’t escape it, we are in +east longitude.” + +“Greenwich time best, longitude west,” chants my logical mind; “and you +must grant that twenty hours and twenty-five minutes is better than +eight hours and nine minutes.” + +“All right,” I break in upon the squabble; “we’ll work up the sight and +then we’ll see.” + +And work it up I did, only to find that my longitude was 184° west. + +“I told you so,” snorts my logical mind. + +I am dumbfounded. So is my literal mind, for several minutes. Then it +enounces: + +“But there is no 184° west longitude, nor east longitude, nor any other +longitude. The largest meridian is 180° as you ought to know very +well.” + +Having got this far, literal mind collapses from the brain strain, +logical mind is dumb flabbergasted; and as for me, I get a bleak and +wintry look in my eyes and go around wondering whether I am sailing +toward the China coast or the Gulf of Darien. + +Then a thin small voice, which I do not recognize, coming from nowhere +in particular in my consciousness, says: + +“The total number of degrees is 360. Subtract the 184° west longitude +from 360°, and you will get 176° east longitude.” + +“That is sheer speculation,” objects literal mind; and logical mind +remonstrates. “There is no rule for it.” + +“Darn the rules!” I exclaim. “Ain’t I here?” + +“The thing is self-evident,” I continue. “184° west longitude means a +lapping over in east longitude of four degrees. Besides I have been in +east longitude all the time. I sailed from Fiji, and Fiji is in east +longitude. Now I shall chart my position and prove it by dead +reckoning.” + +But other troubles and doubts awaited me. Here is a sample of one. In +south latitude, when the sun is in northern declination, chronometer +sights may be taken early in the morning. I took mine at eight o’clock. +Now, one of the necessary elements in working up such a sight is +latitude. But one gets latitude at twelve o’clock, noon, by a meridian +observation. It is clear that in order to work up my eight o’clock +chronometer sight I must have my eight o’clock latitude. Of course, if +the _Snark_ were sailing due west at six knots per hour, for the +intervening four hours her latitude would not change. But if she were +sailing due south, her latitude would change to the tune of twenty-four +miles. In which case a simple addition or subtraction would convert the +twelve o’clock latitude into eight o’clock latitude. But suppose the +_Snark_ were sailing southwest. Then the traverse tables must be +consulted. + +This is the illustration. At eight A.M. I took my chronometer sight. At +the same moment the distance recorded on the log was noted. At twelve +M., when the sight for latitude was taken, I again noted the log, which +showed me that since eight o’clock the _Snark_ had run 24 miles. Her +true course had been west ¾ south. I entered Table I, in the distance +column, on the page for ¾ point courses, and stopped at 24, the number +of miles run. Opposite, in the next two columns, I found that the +_Snark_ had made 3.5 miles of southing or latitude, and that she had +made 23.7 miles of westing. To find my eight o’clock’ latitude was +easy. I had but to subtract 3.5 miles from my noon latitude. All the +elements being present, I worked up my longitude. + +But this was my eight o’clock longitude. Since then, and up till noon, +I had made 23.7 miles of westing. What was my noon longitude? I +followed the rule, turning to Traverse Table No. II. Entering the +table, according to rule, and going through every detail, according to +rule, I found the difference of longitude for the four hours to be 25 +miles. I was aghast. I entered the table again, according to rule; I +entered the table half a dozen times, according to rule, and every time +found that my difference of longitude was 25 miles. I leave it to you, +gentle reader. Suppose you had sailed 24 miles and that you had covered +3.5 miles of latitude, then how could you have covered 25 miles of +longitude? Even if you had sailed due west 24 miles, and not changed +your latitude, how could you have changed your longitude 25 miles? In +the name of human reason, how could you cover one mile more of +longitude than the total number of miles you had sailed? + +It was a reputable traverse table, being none other than Bowditch’s. +The rule was simple (as navigators’ rules go); I had made no error. I +spent an hour over it, and at the end still faced the glaring +impossibility of having sailed 24 miles, in the course of which I +changed my latitude 3.5 miles and my longitude 25 miles. The worst of +it was that there was nobody to help me out. Neither Charmian nor +Martin knew as much as I knew about navigation. And all the time the +_Snark_ was rushing madly along toward Tanna, in the New Hebrides. +Something had to be done. + +How it came to me I know not—call it an inspiration if you will; but +the thought arose in me: if southing is latitude, why isn’t westing +longitude? Why should I have to change westing into longitude? And then +the whole beautiful situation dawned upon me. The meridians of +longitude are 60 miles (nautical) apart at the equator. At the poles +they run together. Thus, if I should travel up the 180° meridian of +longitude until I reached the North Pole, and if the astronomer at +Greenwich travelled up the 0 meridian of longitude to the North Pole, +then, at the North Pole, we could shake hands with each other, though +before we started for the North Pole we had been some thousands of +miles apart. Again: if a degree of longitude was 60 miles wide at the +equator, and if the same degree, at the point of the Pole, had no +width, then somewhere between the Pole and the equator that degree +would be half a mile wide, and at other places a mile wide, two miles +wide, ten miles wide, thirty miles wide, ay, and sixty miles wide. + +All was plain again. The _Snark_ was in 19° south latitude. The world +wasn’t as big around there as at the equator. Therefore, every mile of +westing at 19° south was more than a minute of longitude; for sixty +miles were sixty miles, but sixty minutes are sixty miles only at the +equator. George Francis Train broke Jules Verne’s record of around the +world. But any man that wants can break George Francis Train’s record. +Such a man would need only to go, in a fast steamer, to the latitude of +Cape Horn, and sail due east all the way around. The world is very +small in that latitude, and there is no land in the way to turn him out +of his course. If his steamer maintained sixteen knots, he would +circumnavigate the globe in just about forty days. + +But there are compensations. On Wednesday evening, June 10, I brought +up my noon position by dead reckoning to eight P.M. Then I projected +the _Snark’s_ course and saw that she would strike Futuna, one of the +easternmost of the New Hebrides, a volcanic cone two thousand feet high +that rose out of the deep ocean. I altered the course so that the +_Snark_ would pass ten miles to the northward. Then I spoke to Wada, +the cook, who had the wheel every morning from four to six. + +“Wada San, to-morrow morning, your watch, you look sharp on weather-bow +you see land.” + +And then I went to bed. The die was cast. I had staked my reputation as +a navigator. Suppose, just suppose, that at daybreak there was no land. +Then, where would my navigation be? And where would we be? And how +would we ever find ourselves? or find any land? I caught ghastly +visions of the _Snark_ sailing for months through ocean solitudes and +seeking vainly for land while we consumed our provisions and sat down +with haggard faces to stare cannibalism in the face. + +I confess my sleep was not +“ . . . like a summer sky +That held the music of a lark.” + +Rather did “I waken to the voiceless dark,” and listen to the creaking +of the bulkheads and the rippling of the sea alongside as the _Snark_ +logged steadily her six knots an hour. I went over my calculations +again and again, striving to find some mistake, until my brain was in +such fever that it discovered dozens of mistakes. Suppose, instead of +being sixty miles off Futuna, that my navigation was all wrong and that +I was only six miles off? In which case my course would be wrong, too, +and for all I knew the _Snark_ might be running straight at Futuna. For +all I knew the _Snark_ might strike Futuna the next moment. I almost +sprang from the bunk at that thought; and, though I restrained myself, +I know that I lay for a moment, nervous and tense, waiting for the +shock. + +My sleep was broken by miserable nightmares. Earthquake seemed the +favourite affliction, though there was one man, with a bill, who +persisted in dunning me throughout the night. Also, he wanted to fight; +and Charmian continually persuaded me to let him alone. Finally, +however, the man with the everlasting dun ventured into a dream from +which Charmian was absent. It was my opportunity, and we went at it, +gloriously, all over the sidewalk and street, until he cried enough. +Then I said, “Now how about that bill?” Having conquered, I was willing +to pay. But the man looked at me and groaned. “It was all a mistake,” +he said; “the bill is for the house next door.” + +That settled him, for he worried my dreams no more; and it settled me, +too, for I woke up chuckling at the episode. It was three in the +morning. I went up on deck. Henry, the Rapa islander, was steering. I +looked at the log. It recorded forty-two miles. The _Snark_ had not +abated her six-knot gait, and she had not struck Futuna yet. At +half-past five I was again on deck. Wada, at the wheel, had seen no +land. I sat on the cockpit rail, a prey to morbid doubt for a quarter +of an hour. Then I saw land, a small, high piece of land, just where it +ought to be, rising from the water on the weather-bow. At six o’clock I +could clearly make it out to be the beautiful volcanic cone of Futuna. +At eight o’clock, when it was abreast, I took its distance by the +sextant and found it to be 9.3 miles away. And I had elected to pass it +10 miles away! + +Then, to the south, Aneiteum rose out of the sea, to the north, Aniwa, +and, dead ahead, Tanna. There was no mistaking Tanna, for the smoke of +its volcano was towering high in the sky. It was forty miles away, and +by afternoon, as we drew close, never ceasing to log our six knots, we +saw that it was a mountainous, hazy land, with no apparent openings in +its coast-line. I was looking for Port Resolution, though I was quite +prepared to find that as an anchorage, it had been destroyed. Volcanic +earthquakes had lifted its bottom during the last forty years, so that +where once the largest ships rode at anchor there was now, by last +reports, scarcely space and depth sufficient for the _Snark_. And why +should not another convulsion, since the last report, have closed the +harbour completely? + +I ran in close to the unbroken coast, fringed with rocks awash upon +which the crashing trade-wind sea burst white and high. I searched with +my glasses for miles, but could see no entrance. I took a compass +bearing of Futuna, another of Aniwa, and laid them off on the chart. +Where the two bearings crossed was bound to be the position of the +_Snark_. Then, with my parallel rulers, I laid down a course from the +_Snark’s_ position to Port Resolution. Having corrected this course for +variation and deviation, I went on deck, and lo, the course directed me +towards that unbroken coast-line of bursting seas. To my Rapa +islander’s great concern, I held on till the rocks awash were an eighth +of a mile away. + +“No harbour this place,” he announced, shaking his head ominously. + +But I altered the course and ran along parallel with the coast. +Charmian was at the wheel. Martin was at the engine, ready to throw on +the propeller. A narrow slit of an opening showed up suddenly. Through +the glasses I could see the seas breaking clear across. Henry, the Rapa +man, looked with troubled eyes; so did Tehei, the Tahaa man. + +“No passage, there,” said Henry. “We go there, we finish quick, sure.” + +I confess I thought so, too; but I ran on abreast, watching to see if +the line of breakers from one side the entrance did not overlap the +line from the other side. Sure enough, it did. A narrow place where the +sea ran smooth appeared. Charmian put down the wheel and steadied for +the entrance. Martin threw on the engine, while all hands and the cook +sprang to take in sail. + +A trader’s house showed up in the bight of the bay. A geyser, on the +shore, a hundred yards away; spouted a column of steam. To port, as we +rounded a tiny point, the mission station appeared. + +“Three fathoms,” cried Wada at the lead-line. “Three fathoms,” “two +fathoms,” came in quick succession. + +Charmian put the wheel down, Martin stopped the engine, and the _Snark_ +rounded to and the anchor rumbled down in three fathoms. Before we +could catch our breaths a swarm of black Tannese was alongside and +aboard—grinning, apelike creatures, with kinky hair and troubled eyes, +wearing safety-pins and clay-pipes in their slitted ears: and as for +the rest, wearing nothing behind and less than that before. And I don’t +mind telling that that night, when everybody was asleep, I sneaked up +on deck, looked out over the quiet scene, and gloated—yes, gloated—over +my navigation. + + + + +CHAPTER XV +CRUISING IN THE SOLOMONS + + +“Why not come along now?” said Captain Jansen to us, at Penduffryn, on +the island of Guadalcanar. + +Charmian and I looked at each other and debated silently for half a +minute. Then we nodded our heads simultaneously. It is a way we have of +making up our minds to do things; and a very good way it is when one +has no temperamental tears to shed over the last tin-of condensed milk +when it has capsized. (We are living on tinned goods these days, and +since mind is rumoured to be an emanation of matter, our similes are +naturally of the packing-house variety.) + +“You’d better bring your revolvers along, and a couple of rifles,” said +Captain Jansen. “I’ve got five rifles aboard, though the one Mauser is +without ammunition. Have you a few rounds to spare?” + +We brought our rifles on board, several handfuls of Mauser cartridges, +and Wada and Nakata, the _Snark’s_ cook and cabin-boy respectively. +Wada and Nakata were in a bit of a funk. To say the least, they were +not enthusiastic, though never did Nakata show the white feather in the +face of danger. The Solomon Islands had not dealt kindly with them. In +the first place, both had suffered from Solomon sores. So had the rest +of us (at the time, I was nursing two fresh ones on a diet of corrosive +sublimate); but the two Japanese had had more than their share. And the +sores are not nice. They may be described as excessively active ulcers. +A mosquito bite, a cut, or the slightest abrasion, serves for lodgment +of the poison with which the air seems to be filled. Immediately the +ulcer commences to eat. It eats in every direction, consuming skin and +muscle with astounding rapidity. The pin-point ulcer of the first day +is the size of a dime by the second day, and by the end of the week a +silver dollar will not cover it. + +Worse than the sores, the two Japanese had been afflicted with Solomon +Island fever. Each had been down repeatedly with it, and in their weak, +convalescent moments they were wont to huddle together on the portion +of the _Snark_ that happened to be nearest to faraway Japan, and to +gaze yearningly in that direction. + +But worst of all, they were now brought on board the _Minota_ for a +recruiting cruise along the savage coast of Malaita. Wada, who had the +worse funk, was sure that he would never see Japan again, and with +bleak, lack-lustre eyes he watched our rifles and ammunition going on +board the _Minota_. He knew about the _Minota_ and her Malaita cruises. +He knew that she had been captured six months before on the Malaita +coast, that her captain had been chopped to pieces with tomahawks, and +that, according to the barbarian sense of equity on that sweet isle, +she owed two more heads. Also, a labourer on Penduffryn Plantation, a +Malaita boy, had just died of dysentery, and Wada knew that Penduffryn +had been put in the debt of Malaita by one more head. Furthermore, in +stowing our luggage away in the skipper’s tiny cabin, he saw the axe +gashes on the door where the triumphant bushmen had cut their way in. +And, finally, the galley stove was without a pipe—said pipe having been +part of the loot. + +The _Minota_ was a teak-built, Australian yacht, ketch-rigged, long and +lean, with a deep fin-keel, and designed for harbour racing rather than +for recruiting blacks. When Charmian and I came on board, we found her +crowded. Her double boat’s crew, including substitutes, was fifteen, +and she had a score and more of “return” boys, whose time on the +plantations was served and who were bound back to their bush villages. +To look at, they were certainly true head-hunting cannibals. Their +perforated nostrils were thrust through with bone and wooden bodkins +the size of lead-pencils. Numbers of them had punctured the extreme +meaty point of the nose, from which protruded, straight out, spikes of +turtle-shell or of beads strung on stiff wire. A few had further +punctured their noses with rows of holes following the curves of the +nostrils from lip to point. Each ear of every man had from two to a +dozen holes in it—holes large enough to carry wooden plugs three inches +in diameter down to tiny holes in which were carried clay-pipes and +similar trifles. In fact, so many holes did they possess that they +lacked ornaments to fill them; and when, the following day, as we +neared Malaita, we tried out our rifles to see that they were in +working order, there was a general scramble for the empty cartridges, +which were thrust forthwith into the many aching voids in our +passengers’ ears. + +At the time we tried out our rifles we put up our barbed wire railings. +The _Minota_, crown-decked, without any house, and with a rail six +inches high, was too accessible to boarders. So brass stanchions were +screwed into the rail and a double row of barbed wire stretched around +her from stem to stern and back again. Which was all very well as a +protection from savages, but it was mighty uncomfortable to those on +board when the _Minota_ took to jumping and plunging in a sea-way. When +one dislikes sliding down upon the lee-rail barbed wire, and when he +dares not catch hold of the weather-rail barbed wire to save himself +from sliding, and when, with these various disinclinations, he finds +himself on a smooth flush-deck that is heeled over at an angle of +forty-five degrees, some of the delights of Solomon Islands cruising +may be comprehended. Also, it must be remembered, the penalty of a fall +into the barbed wire is more than the mere scratches, for each scratch +is practically certain to become a venomous ulcer. That caution will +not save one from the wire was evidenced one fine morning when we were +running along the Malaita coast with the breeze on our quarter. The +wind was fresh, and a tidy sea was making. A black boy was at the +wheel. Captain Jansen, Mr. Jacobsen (the mate), Charmian, and I had +just sat down on deck to breakfast. Three unusually large seas caught +us. The boy at the wheel lost his head. Three times the _Minota_ was +swept. The breakfast was rushed over the lee-rail. The knives and forks +went through the scuppers; a boy aft went clean overboard and was +dragged back; and our doughty skipper lay half inboard and half out, +jammed in the barbed wire. After that, for the rest of the cruise, our +joint use of the several remaining eating utensils was a splendid +example of primitive communism. On the _Eugenie_, however, it was even +worse, for we had but one teaspoon among four of us—but the _Eugenie_ +is another story. + +Our first port was Su’u on the west coast of Malaita. The Solomon +Islands are on the fringe of things. It is difficult enough sailing on +dark nights through reef-spiked channels and across erratic currents +where there are no lights to guide (from northwest to southeast the +Solomons extend across a thousand miles of sea, and on all the +thousands of miles of coasts there is not one lighthouse); but the +difficulty is seriously enhanced by the fact that the land itself is +not correctly charted. Su’u is an example. On the Admiralty chart of +Malaita the coast at this point runs a straight, unbroken line. Yet +across this straight, unbroken line the _Minota_ sailed in twenty +fathoms of water. Where the land was alleged to be, was a deep +indentation. Into this we sailed, the mangroves closing about us, till +we dropped anchor in a mirrored pond. Captain Jansen did not like the +anchorage. It was the first time he had been there, and Su’u had a bad +reputation. There was no wind with which to get away in case of attack, +while the crew could be bushwhacked to a man if they attempted to tow +out in the whale-boat. It was a pretty trap, if trouble blew up. + +“Suppose the _Minota_ went ashore—what would you do?” I asked. + +“She’s not going ashore,” was Captain Jansen’s answer. + +“But just in case she did?” I insisted. He considered for a moment and +shifted his glance from the mate buckling on a revolver to the boat’s +crew climbing into the whale-boat each man with a rifle. + +“We’d get into the whale-boat, and get out of here as fast as God’d let +us,” came the skipper’s delayed reply. + +He explained at length that no white man was sure of his _Malaita_ crew +in a tight place; that the bushmen looked upon all wrecks as their +personal property; that the bushmen possessed plenty of Snider rifles; +and that he had on board a dozen “return” boys for Su’u who were +certain to join in with their friends and relatives ashore when it came +to looting the _Minota_. + +The first work of the whale-boat was to take the “return” boys and +their trade-boxes ashore. Thus one danger was removed. While this was +being done, a canoe came alongside manned by three naked savages. And +when I say naked, I mean naked. Not one vestige of clothing did they +have on, unless nose-rings, ear-plugs, and shell armlets be accounted +clothing. The head man in the canoe was an old chief, one-eyed, reputed +to be friendly, and so dirty that a boat-scraper would have lost its +edge on him. His mission was to warn the skipper against allowing any +of his people to go ashore. The old fellow repeated the warning again +that night. + +In vain did the whale-boat ply about the shores of the bay in quest of +recruits. The bush was full of armed natives; all willing enough to +talk with the recruiter, but not one would engage to sign on for three +years’ plantation labour at six pounds per year. Yet they were anxious +enough to get our people ashore. On the second day they raised a smoke +on the beach at the head of the bay. This being the customary signal of +men desiring to recruit, the boat was sent. But nothing resulted. No +one recruited, nor were any of our men lured ashore. A little later we +caught glimpses of a number of armed natives moving about on the beach. + +Outside of these rare glimpses, there was no telling how many might be +lurking in the bush. There was no penetrating that primeval jungle with +the eye. In the afternoon, Captain Jansen, Charmian, and I went +dynamiting fish. Each one of the boat’s crew carried a Lee-Enfield. +“Johnny,” the native recruiter, had a Winchester beside him at the +steering sweep. We rowed in close to a portion of the shore that looked +deserted. Here the boat was turned around and backed in; in case of +attack, the boat would be ready to dash away. In all the time I was on +Malaita I never saw a boat land bow on. In fact, the recruiting vessels +use two boats—one to go in on the beach, armed, of course, and the +other to lie off several hundred feet and “cover” the first boat. The +_Minota_, however, being a small vessel, did not carry a covering boat. + +We were close in to the shore and working in closer, stern-first, when +a school of fish was sighted. The fuse was ignited and the stick of +dynamite thrown. With the explosion, the surface of the water was +broken by the flash of leaping fish. At the same instant the woods +broke into life. A score of naked savages, armed with bows and arrows, +spears, and Sniders, burst out upon the shore. At the same moment our +boat’s crew lifted their rifles. And thus the opposing parties faced +each other, while our extra boys dived over after the stunned fish. + +Three fruitless days were spent at Su’u. The _Minota_ got no recruits +from the bush, and the bushmen got no heads from the _Minota_. In fact, +the only one who got anything was Wada, and his was a nice dose of +fever. We towed out with the whale-boat, and ran along the coast to +Langa Langa, a large village of salt-water people, built with +prodigious labour on a lagoon sand-bank—literally _built_ up, an +artificial island reared as a refuge from the blood-thirsty bushmen. +Here, also, on the shore side of the lagoon, was Binu, the place where +the _Minota_ was captured half a year previously and her captain killed +by the bushmen. As we sailed in through the narrow entrance, a canoe +came alongside with the news that the man-of-war had just left that +morning after having burned three villages, killed some thirty pigs, +and drowned a baby. This was the Cambrian, Captain Lewes commanding. He +and I had first met in Korea during the Japanese-Russian War, and we +had been crossing each other’s trail ever since without ever a meeting. +The day the _Snark_ sailed into Suva, in the Fijis, we made out the +_Cambrian_ going out. At Vila, in the New Hebrides, we missed each +other by one day. We passed each other in the night-time off the island +of Santo. And the day the _Cambrian_ arrived at Tulagi, we sailed from +Penduffryn, a dozen miles away. And here at Langa Langa we had missed +by several hours. + +The _Cambrian_ had come to punish the murderers of the _Minota’s_ +captain, but what she had succeeded in doing we did not learn until +later in the day, when a Mr. Abbot, a missionary, came alongside in his +whale-boat. The villages had been burned and the pigs killed. But the +natives had escaped personal harm. The murderers had not been captured, +though the _Minota’s_ flag and other of her gear had been recovered. +The drowning of the baby had come about through a misunderstanding. +Chief Johnny, of Binu, had declined to guide the landing party into the +bush, nor could any of his men be induced to perform that office. +Whereupon Captain Lewes, righteously indignant, had told Chief Johnny +that he deserved to have his village burned. Johnny’s _bêche de mer_ +English did not include the word “deserve.” So his understanding of it +was that his village was to be burned anyway. The immediate stampede of +the inhabitants was so hurried that the baby was dropped into the +water. In the meantime Chief Johnny hastened to Mr. Abbot. Into his +hand he put fourteen sovereigns and requested him to go on board the +_Cambrian_ and buy Captain Lewes off. Johnny’s village was not burned. +Nor did Captain Lewes get the fourteen sovereigns, for I saw them later +in Johnny’s possession when he boarded the _Minota_. The excuse Johnny +gave me for not guiding the landing party was a big boil which he +proudly revealed. His real reason, however, and a perfectly valid one, +though he did not state it, was fear of revenge on the part of the +bushmen. Had he, or any of his men, guided the marines, he could have +looked for bloody reprisals as soon as the _Cambrian_ weighed anchor. + +As an illustration of conditions in the Solomons, Johnny’s business on +board was to turn over, for a tobacco consideration, the sprit, +mainsail, and jib of a whale-boat. Later in the day, a Chief Billy came +on board and turned over, for a tobacco consideration, the mast and +boom. This gear belonged to a whale-boat which Captain Jansen had +recovered the previous trip of the _Minota_. The whale-boat belonged to +Meringe Plantation on the island of Ysabel. Eleven contract labourers, +Malaita men and bushmen at that, had decided to run away. Being +bushmen, they knew nothing of salt water nor of the way of a boat in +the sea. So they persuaded two natives of San Cristoval, salt-water +men, to run away with them. It served the San Cristoval men right. They +should have known better. When they had safely navigated the stolen +boat to Malaita, they had their heads hacked off for their pains. It +was this boat and gear that Captain Jansen had recovered. + +Not for nothing have I journeyed all the way to the Solomons. At last I +have seen Charmian’s proud spirit humbled and her imperious queendom of +femininity dragged in the dust. It happened at Langa Langa, ashore, on +the manufactured island which one cannot see for the houses. Here, +surrounded by hundreds of unblushing naked men, women, and children, we +wandered about and saw the sights. We had our revolvers strapped on, +and the boat’s crew, fully armed, lay at the oars, stern in; but the +lesson of the man-of-war was too recent for us to apprehend trouble. We +walked about everywhere and saw everything until at last we approached +a large tree trunk that served as a bridge across a shallow estuary. +The blacks formed a wall in front of us and refused to let us pass. We +wanted to know why we were stopped. The blacks said we could go on. We +misunderstood, and started. Explanations became more definite. Captain +Jansen and I, being men, could go on. But no Mary was allowed to wade +around that bridge, much less cross it. “Mary” is bêche de mer for +woman. Charmian was a Mary. To her the bridge was tambo, which is the +native for taboo. Ah, how my chest expanded! At last my manhood was +vindicated. In truth I belonged to the lordly sex. Charmian could +trapse along at our heels, but we were MEN, and we could go right over +that bridge while she would have to go around by whale-boat. + +Now I should not care to be misunderstood by what follows; but it is a +matter of common knowledge in the Solomons that attacks of fever are +often brought on by shock. Inside half an hour after Charmian had been +refused the right of way, she was being rushed aboard the _Minota_, +packed in blankets, and dosed with quinine. I don’t know what kind of +shock had happened to Wada and Nakata, but at any rate they were down +with fever as well. The Solomons might be healthfuller. + +Also, during the attack of fever, Charmian developed a Solomon sore. It +was the last straw. Every one on the _Snark_ had been afflicted except +her. I had thought that I was going to lose my foot at the ankle by one +exceptionally malignant boring ulcer. Henry and Tehei, the Tahitian +sailors, had had numbers of them. Wada had been able to count his by +the score. Nakata had had single ones three inches in length. Martin +had been quite certain that necrosis of his shinbone had set in from +the roots of the amazing colony he elected to cultivate in that +locality. But Charmian had escaped. Out of her long immunity had been +bred contempt for the rest of us. Her ego was flattered to such an +extent that one day she shyly informed me that it was all a matter of +pureness of blood. Since all the rest of us cultivated the sores, and +since she did not—well, anyway, hers was the size of a silver dollar, +and the pureness of her blood enabled her to cure it after several +weeks of strenuous nursing. She pins her faith to corrosive sublimate. +Martin swears by iodoform. Henry uses lime-juice undiluted. And I +believe that when corrosive sublimate is slow in taking hold, alternate +dressings of peroxide of hydrogen are just the thing. There are white +men in the Solomons who stake all upon boracic acid, and others who are +prejudiced in favour of lysol. I also have the weakness of a panacea. +It is California. I defy any man to get a Solomon Island sore in +California. + +We ran down the lagoon from Langa Langa, between mangrove swamps, +through passages scarcely wider than the _Minota_, and past the reef +villages of Kaloka and Auki. Like the founders of Venice, these +salt-water men were originally refugees from the mainland. Too weak to +hold their own in the bush, survivors of village massacres, they fled +to the sand-banks of the lagoon. These sand-banks they built up into +islands. They were compelled to seek their provender from the sea, and +in time they became salt-water men. They learned the ways of the fish +and the shellfish, and they invented hooks and lines, nets and +fish-traps. They developed canoe-bodies. Unable to walk about, spending +all their time in the canoes, they became thick-armed and +broad-shouldered, with narrow waists and frail spindly legs. +Controlling the sea-coast, they became wealthy, trade with the interior +passing largely through their hands. But perpetual enmity exists +between them and the bushmen. Practically their only truces are on +market-days, which occur at stated intervals, usually twice a week. The +bushwomen and the salt-water women do the bartering. Back in the bush, +a hundred yards away, fully armed, lurk the bushmen, while to seaward, +in the canoes, are the salt-water men. There are very rare instances of +the market-day truces being broken. The bushmen like their fish too +well, while the salt-water men have an organic craving for the +vegetables they cannot grow on their crowded islets. + +Thirty miles from Langa Langa brought us to the passage between +Bassakanna Island and the mainland. Here, at nightfall, the wind left +us, and all night, with the whale-boat towing ahead and the crew on +board sweating at the sweeps, we strove to win through. But the tide +was against us. At midnight, midway in the passage, we came up with the +_Eugenie_, a big recruiting schooner, towing with two whale-boats. Her +skipper, Captain Keller, a sturdy young German of twenty-two, came on +board for a “gam,” and the latest news of Malaita was swapped back and +forth. He had been in luck, having gathered in twenty recruits at the +village of Fiu. While lying there, one of the customary courageous +killings had taken place. The murdered boy was what is called a +salt-water bushman—that is, a salt-water man who is half bushman and +who lives by the sea but does not live on an islet. Three bushmen came +down to this man where he was working in his garden. They behaved in +friendly fashion, and after a time suggested _kai-kai_. _Kai-kai_ means +food. He built a fire and started to boil some taro. While bending over +the pot, one of the bushmen shot him through the head. He fell into the +flames, whereupon they thrust a spear through his stomach, turned it +around, and broke it off. + +“My word,” said Captain Keller, “I don’t want ever to be shot with a +Snider. Spread! You could drive a horse and carriage through that hole +in his head.” + +Another recent courageous killing I heard of on Malaita was that of an +old man. A bush chief had died a natural death. Now the bushmen don’t +believe in natural deaths. No one was ever known to die a natural +death. The only way to die is by bullet, tomahawk, or spear thrust. +When a man dies in any other way, it is a clear case of having been +charmed to death. When the bush chief died naturally, his tribe placed +the guilt on a certain family. Since it did not matter which one of the +family was killed, they selected this old man who lived by himself. +This would make it easy. Furthermore, he possessed no Snider. Also, he +was blind. The old fellow got an inkling of what was coming and laid in +a large supply of arrows. Three brave warriors, each with a Snider, +came down upon him in the night time. All night they fought valiantly +with him. Whenever they moved in the bush and made a noise or a rustle, +he discharged an arrow in that direction. In the morning, when his last +arrow was gone, the three heroes crept up to him and blew his brains +out. + +Morning found us still vainly toiling through the passage. At last, in +despair, we turned tail, ran out to sea, and sailed clear round +Bassakanna to our objective, Malu. The anchorage at Malu was very good, +but it lay between the shore and an ugly reef, and while easy to enter, +it was difficult to leave. The direction of the southeast trade +necessitated a beat to windward; the point of the reef was widespread +and shallow; while a current bore down at all times upon the point. + +Mr. Caulfeild, the missionary at Malu, arrived in his whale-boat from a +trip down the coast. A slender, delicate man he was, enthusiastic in +his work, level-headed and practical, a true twentieth-century soldier +of the Lord. When he came down to this station on Malaita, as he said, +he agreed to come for six months. He further agreed that if he were +alive at the end of that time, he would continue on. Six years had +passed and he was still continuing on. Nevertheless he was justified in +his doubt as to living longer than six months. Three missionaries had +preceded him on Malaita, and in less than that time two had died of +fever and the third had gone home a wreck. + +“What murder are you talking about?” he asked suddenly, in the midst of +a confused conversation with Captain Jansen. + +Captain Jansen explained. + +“Oh, that’s not the one I have reference to,” quoth Mr. Caulfeild. +“That’s old already. It happened two weeks ago.” + +It was here at Malu that I atoned for all the exulting and gloating I +had been guilty of over the Solomon sore Charmian had collected at +Langa Langa. Mr. Caulfeild was indirectly responsible for my atonement. +He presented us with a chicken, which I pursued into the bush with a +rifle. My intention was to clip off its head. I succeeded, but in doing +so fell over a log and barked my shin. Result: three Solomon sores. +This made five all together that were adorning my person. Also, Captain +Jansen and Nakata had caught _gari-gari_. Literally translated, +_gari-gari_ is scratch-scratch. But translation was not necessary for +the rest of us. The skipper’s and Nakata’s gymnastics served as a +translation without words. + +(No, the Solomon Islands are not as healthy as they might be. I am +writing this article on the island of Ysabel, where we have taken the +_Snark_ to careen and clean her cooper. I got over my last attack of +fever this morning, and I have had only one free day between attacks. +Charmian’s are two weeks apart. Wada is a wreck from fever. Last night +he showed all the symptoms of coming down with pneumonia. Henry, a +strapping giant of a Tahitian, just up from his last dose of fever, is +dragging around the deck like a last year’s crab-apple. Both he and +Tehei have accumulated a praiseworthy display of Solomon sores. Also, +they have caught a new form of gari-gari, a sort of vegetable poisoning +like poison oak or poison ivy. But they are not unique in this. A +number of days ago Charmian, Martin, and I went pigeon-shooting on a +small island, and we have had a foretaste of eternal torment ever +since. Also, on that small island, Martin cut the soles of his feet to +ribbons on the coral whilst chasing a shark—at least, so he says, but +from the glimpse I caught of him I thought it was the other way about. +The coral-cuts have all become Solomon sores. Before my last fever I +knocked the skin off my knuckles while heaving on a line, and I now +have three fresh sores. And poor Nakata! For three weeks he has been +unable to sit down. He sat down yesterday for the first time, and +managed to stay down for fifteen minutes. He says cheerfully that he +expects to be cured of his gari-gari in another month. Furthermore, his +gari-gari, from too enthusiastic scratch-scratching, has furnished +footholds for countless Solomon sores. Still furthermore, he has just +come down with his seventh attack of fever. If I were king, the worst +punishment I could inflict on my enemies would be to banish them to the +Solomons. On second thought, king or no king, I don’t think I’d have +the heart to do it.) + +Recruiting plantation labourers on a small, narrow yacht, built for +harbour sailing, is not any too nice. The decks swarm with recruits and +their families. The main cabin is packed with them. At night they sleep +there. The only entrance to our tiny cabin is through the main cabin, +and we jam our way through them or walk over them. Nor is this nice. +One and all, they are afflicted with every form of malignant skin +disease. Some have ringworm, others have _bukua_. This latter is caused +by a vegetable parasite that invades the skin and eats it away. The +itching is intolerable. The afflicted ones scratch until the air is +filled with fine dry flakes. Then there are yaws and many other skin +ulcerations. Men come aboard with Solomon sores in their feet so large +that they can walk only on their toes, or with holes in their legs so +terrible that a fist could be thrust in to the bone. Blood-poisoning is +very frequent, and Captain Jansen, with sheath-knife and sail needle, +operates lavishly on one and all. No matter how desperate the +situation, after opening and cleansing, he claps on a poultice of +sea-biscuit soaked in water. Whenever we see a particularly horrible +case, we retire to a corner and deluge our own sores with corrosive +sublimate. And so we live and eat and sleep on the _Minota_, taking our +chance and “pretending it is good.” + +At Suava, another artificial island, I had a second crow over Charmian. +A big fella marster belong Suava (which means the high chief of Suava) +came on board. But first he sent an emissary to Captain Jansen for a +fathom of calico with which to cover his royal nakedness. Meanwhile he +lingered in the canoe alongside. The regal dirt on his chest I swear +was half an inch thick, while it was a good wager that the underneath +layers were anywhere from ten to twenty years of age. He sent his +emissary on board again, who explained that the big fella marster +belong Suava was condescendingly willing enough to shake hands with +Captain Jansen and me and cadge a stick or so of trade tobacco, but +that nevertheless his high-born soul was still at so lofty an altitude +that it could not sink itself to such a depth of degradation as to +shake hands with a mere female woman. Poor Charmian! Since her Malaita +experiences she has become a changed woman. Her meekness and humbleness +are appallingly becoming, and I should not be surprised, when we return +to civilization and stroll along a sidewalk, to see her take her +station, with bowed head, a yard in the rear. + +Nothing much happened at Suava. Bichu, the native cook, deserted. The +_Minota_ dragged anchor. It blew heavy squalls of wind and rain. The +mate, Mr. Jacobsen, and Wada were prostrated with fever. Our Solomon +sores increased and multiplied. And the cockroaches on board held a +combined Fourth of July and Coronation Parade. They selected midnight +for the time, and our tiny cabin for the place. They were from two to +three inches long; there were hundreds of them, and they walked all +over us. When we attempted to pursue them, they left solid footing, +rose up in the air, and fluttered about like humming-birds. They were +much larger than ours on the _Snark_. But ours are young yet, and +haven’t had a chance to grow. Also, the _Snark_ has centipedes, big +ones, six inches long. We kill them occasionally, usually in Charmian’s +bunk. I’ve been bitten twice by them, both times foully, while I was +asleep. But poor Martin had worse luck. After being sick in bed for +three weeks, the first day he sat up he sat down on one. Sometimes I +think they are the wisest who never go to Carcassonne. + +Later on we returned to Malu, picked up seven recruits, hove up anchor, +and started to beat out the treacherous entrance. The wind was chopping +about, the current upon the ugly point of reef setting strong. Just as +we were on the verge of clearing it and gaining open sea, the wind +broke off four points. The _Minota_ attempted to go about, but missed +stays. Two of her anchors had been lost at Tulagi. Her one remaining +anchor was let go. Chain was let out to give it a hold on the coral. +Her fin keel struck bottom, and her main topmast lurched and shivered +as if about to come down upon our heads. She fetched up on the slack of +the anchors at the moment a big comber smashed her shoreward. The chain +parted. It was our only anchor. The _Minota_ swung around on her heel +and drove headlong into the breakers. + +Bedlam reigned. All the recruits below, bushmen and afraid of the sea, +dashed panic-stricken on deck and got in everybody’s way. At the same +time the boat’s crew made a rush for the rifles. They knew what going +ashore on Malaita meant—one hand for the ship and the other hand to +fight off the natives. What they held on with I don’t know, and they +needed to hold on as the _Minota_ lifted, rolled, and pounded on the +coral. The bushmen clung in the rigging, too witless to watch out for +the topmast. The whale-boat was run out with a tow-line endeavouring in +a puny way to prevent the _Minota_ from being flung farther in toward +the reef, while Captain Jansen and the mate, the latter pallid and weak +with fever, were resurrecting a scrap-anchor from out the ballast and +rigging up a stock for it. Mr. Caulfeild, with his mission boys, +arrived in his whale-boat to help. + +When the _Minota_ first struck, there was not a canoe in sight; but +like vultures circling down out of the blue, canoes began to arrive +from every quarter. The boat’s crew, with rifles at the ready, kept +them lined up a hundred feet away with a promise of death if they +ventured nearer. And there they clung, a hundred feet away, black and +ominous, crowded with men, holding their canoes with their paddles on +the perilous edge of the breaking surf. In the meantime the bushmen +were flocking down from the hills armed with spears, Sniders, arrows, +and clubs, until the beach was massed with them. To complicate matters, +at least ten of our recruits had been enlisted from the very bushmen +ashore who were waiting hungrily for the loot of the tobacco and trade +goods and all that we had on board. + +The _Minota_ was honestly built, which is the first essential for any +boat that is pounding on a reef. Some idea of what she endured may be +gained from the fact that in the first twenty-four hours she parted two +anchor-chains and eight hawsers. Our boat’s crew was kept busy diving +for the anchors and bending new lines. There were times when she parted +the chains reinforced with hawsers. And yet she held together. Tree +trunks were brought from ashore and worked under her to save her keel +and bilges, but the trunks were gnawed and splintered and the ropes +that held them frayed to fragments, and still she pounded and held +together. But we were luckier than the _Ivanhoe_, a big recruiting +schooner, which had gone ashore on Malaita several months previously +and been promptly rushed by the natives. The captain and crew succeeded +in getting away in the whale-boats, and the bushmen and salt-water men +looted her clean of everything portable. + +Squall after squall, driving wind and blinding rain, smote the +_Minota_, while a heavier sea was making. The _Eugenie_ lay at anchor +five miles to windward, but she was behind a point of land and could +not know of our mishap. At Captain Jansen’s suggestion, I wrote a note +to Captain Keller, asking him to bring extra anchors and gear to our +aid. But not a canoe could be persuaded to carry the letter. I offered +half a case of tobacco, but the blacks grinned and held their canoes +bow-on to the breaking seas. A half a case of tobacco was worth three +pounds. In two hours, even against the strong wind and sea, a man could +have carried the letter and received in payment what he would have +laboured half a year for on a plantation. I managed to get into a canoe +and paddle out to where Mr. Caulfeild was running an anchor with his +whale-boat. My idea was that he would have more influence over the +natives. He called the canoes up to him, and a score of them clustered +around and heard the offer of half a case of tobacco. No one spoke. + +“I know what you think,” the missionary called out to them. “You think +plenty tobacco on the schooner and you’re going to get it. I tell you +plenty rifles on schooner. You no get tobacco, you get bullets.” + +At last, one man, alone in a small canoe, took the letter and started. +Waiting for relief, work went on steadily on the _Minota_. Her +water-tanks were emptied, and spars, sails, and ballast started +shoreward. There were lively times on board when the _Minota_ rolled +one bilge down and then the other, a score of men leaping for life and +legs as the trade-boxes, booms, and eighty-pound pigs of iron ballast +rushed across from rail to rail and back again. The poor pretty harbour +yacht! Her decks and running rigging were a raffle. Down below +everything was disrupted. The cabin floor had been torn up to get at +the ballast, and rusty bilge-water swashed and splashed. A bushel of +limes, in a mess of flour and water, charged about like so many sticky +dumplings escaped from a half-cooked stew. In the inner cabin, Nakata +kept guard over our rifles and ammunition. + +Three hours from the time our messenger started, a whale-boat, pressing +along under a huge spread of canvas, broke through the thick of a +shrieking squall to windward. It was Captain Keller, wet with rain and +spray, a revolver in belt, his boat’s crew fully armed, anchors and +hawsers heaped high amidships, coming as fast as wind could drive—the +white man, the inevitable white man, coming to a white man’s rescue. + +The vulture line of canoes that had waited so long broke and +disappeared as quickly as it had formed. The corpse was not dead after +all. We now had three whale-boats, two plying steadily between the +vessel and shore, the other kept busy running out anchors, rebending +parted hawsers, and recovering the lost anchors. Later in the +afternoon, after a consultation, in which we took into consideration +that a number of our boat’s crew, as well as ten of the recruits, +belonged to this place, we disarmed the boat’s crew. This, incidently, +gave them both hands free to work for the vessel. The rifles were put +in the charge of five of Mr. Caulfeild’s mission boys. And down below +in the wreck of the cabin the missionary and his converts prayed to God +to save the _Minota_. It was an impressive scene! the unarmed man of +God praying with cloudless faith, his savage followers leaning on their +rifles and mumbling amens. The cabin walls reeled about them. The +vessel lifted and smashed upon the coral with every sea. From on deck +came the shouts of men heaving and toiling, praying, in another +fashion, with purposeful will and strength of arm. + +That night Mr. Caulfeild brought off a warning. One of our recruits had +a price on his head of fifty fathoms of shell-money and forty pigs. +Baffled in their desire to capture the vessel, the bushmen decided to +get the head of the man. When killing begins, there is no telling where +it will end, so Captain Jansen armed a whale-boat and rowed in to the +edge of the beach. Ugi, one of his boat’s crew, stood up and orated for +him. Ugi was excited. Captain Jansen’s warning that any canoe sighted +that night would be pumped full of lead, Ugi turned into a bellicose +declaration of war, which wound up with a peroration somewhat to the +following effect: “You kill my captain, I drink his blood and die with +him!” + +The bushmen contented themselves with burning an unoccupied mission +house, and sneaked back to the bush. The next day the _Eugenie_ sailed +in and dropped anchor. Three days and two nights the _Minota_ pounded +on the reef; but she held together, and the shell of her was pulled off +at last and anchored in smooth water. There we said good-bye to her and +all on board, and sailed away on the _Eugenie_, bound for Florida +Island. [268] + + + + +CHAPTER XVI +BÊCHE DE MER ENGLISH + + +Given a number of white traders, a wide area of land, and scores of +savage languages and dialects, the result will be that the traders will +manufacture a totally new, unscientific, but perfectly adequate, +language. This the traders did when they invented the Chinook lingo for +use over British Columbia, Alaska, and the Northwest Territory. So with +the lingo of the Kroo-boys of Africa, the pigeon English of the Far +East, and the bêche de mer of the westerly portion of the South Seas. +This latter is often called pigeon English, but pigeon English it +certainly is not. To show how totally different it is, mention need be +made only of the fact that the classic piecee of China has no place in +it. + +There was once a sea captain who needed a dusky potentate down in his +cabin. The potentate was on deck. The captain’s command to the Chinese +steward was “Hey, boy, you go top-side catchee one piecee king.” Had +the steward been a New Hebridean or a Solomon islander, the command +would have been: “Hey, you fella boy, go look ’m eye belong you along +deck, bring ’m me fella one big fella marster belong black man.” + +It was the first white men who ventured through Melanesia after the +early explorers, who developed bêche de mer English—men such as the +bêche de mer fishermen, the sandalwood traders, the pearl hunters, and +the labour recruiters. In the Solomons, for instance, scores of +languages and dialects are spoken. Unhappy the trader who tried to +learn them all; for in the next group to which he might wander he would +find scores of additional tongues. A common language was necessary—a +language so simple that a child could learn it, with a vocabulary as +limited as the intelligence of the savages upon whom it was to be used. +The traders did not reason this out. Bêche de mer English was the +product of conditions and circumstances. Function precedes organ; and +the need for a universal Melanesian lingo preceded bêche de mer +English. Bêche de mer was purely fortuitous, but it was fortuitous in +the deterministic way. Also, from the fact that out of the need the +lingo arose, bêche de mer English is a splendid argument for the +Esperanto enthusiasts. + +A limited vocabulary means that each word shall be overworked. Thus, +_fella_, in bêche de mer, means all that _piecee_ does and quite a bit +more, and is used continually in every possible connection. Another +overworked word is _belong_. Nothing stands alone. Everything is +related. The thing desired is indicated by its relationship with other +things. A primitive vocabulary means primitive expression, thus, the +continuance of rain is expressed as _rain he stop_. _Sun he come up_ +cannot possibly be misunderstood, while the phrase-structure itself can +be used without mental exertion in ten thousand different ways, as, for +instance, a native who desires to tell you that there are fish in the +water and who says _fish he stop_. It was while trading on Ysabel +island that I learned the excellence of this usage. I wanted two or +three pairs of the large clam-shells (measuring three feet across), but +I did not want the meat inside. Also, I wanted the meat of some of the +smaller clams to make a chowder. My instruction to the natives finally +ripened into the following “You fella bring me fella big fella +clam—kai-kai he no stop, he walk about. You fella bring me fella small +fella clam—kai-kai he stop.” + +Kai-kai is the Polynesian for food, meat, eating, and to eat: but it +would be hard to say whether it was introduced into Melanesia by the +sandalwood traders or by the Polynesian westward drift. Walk about is a +quaint phrase. Thus, if one orders a Solomon sailor to put a tackle on +a boom, he will suggest, “That fella boom he walk about too much.” And +if the said sailor asks for shore liberty, he will state that it is his +desire to walk about. Or if said sailor be seasick, he will explain his +condition by stating, “Belly belong me walk about too much.” + +Too much, by the way, does not indicate anything excessive. It is +merely the simple superlative. Thus, if a native is asked the distance +to a certain village, his answer will be one of these four: “Close-up”; +“long way little bit”; “long way big bit”; or “long way too much.” Long +way too much does not mean that one cannot walk to the village; it +means that he will have to walk farther than if the village were a long +way big bit. + +_Gammon_ is to lie, to exaggerate, to joke. _Mary_ is a woman. Any +woman is a Mary. All women are Marys. Doubtlessly the first dim white +adventurer whimsically called a native woman Mary, and of similar birth +must have been many other words in bêche de mer. The white men were all +seamen, and so capsize and sing out were introduced into the lingo. One +would not tell a Melanesian cook to empty the dish-water, but he would +tell him to capsize it. To sing out is to cry loudly, to call out, or +merely to speak. Sing-sing is a song. The native Christian does not +think of God calling for Adam in the Garden of Eden; in the native’s +mind, God sings out for Adam. + +Savvee or catchee are practically the only words which have been +introduced straight from pigeon English. Of course, pickaninny has +happened along, but some of its uses are delicious. Having bought a +fowl from a native in a canoe, the native asked me if I wanted +“Pickaninny stop along him fella.” It was not until he showed me a +handful of hen’s eggs that I understood his meaning. My word, as an +exclamation with a thousand significances, could have arrived from +nowhere else than Old England. A paddle, a sweep, or an oar, is called +washee, and washee is also the verb. + +Here is a letter, dictated by one Peter, a native trader at Santa Anna, +and addressed to his employer. Harry, the schooner captain, started to +write the letter, but was stopped by Peter at the end of the second +sentence. Thereafter the letter runs in Peter’s own words, for Peter +was afraid that Harry gammoned too much, and he wanted the straight +story of his needs to go to headquarters. +“Santa Anna + +“Trader Peter has worked 12 months for your firm and has not received +any pay yet. He hereby wants £12.” (At this point Peter began +dictation). “Harry he gammon along him all the time too much. I like +him 6 tin biscuit, 4 bag rice, 24 tin bullamacow. Me like him 2 rifle, +me savvee look out along boat, some place me go man he no good, he +_kai-kai_ along me. +“Peter.” + +_Bullamacow_ means tinned beef. This word was corrupted from the +English language by the Samoans, and from them learned by the traders, +who carried it along with them into Melanesia. Captain Cook and the +other early navigators made a practice of introducing seeds, plants, +and domestic animals amongst the natives. It was at Samoa that one such +navigator landed a bull and a cow. “This is a bull and cow,” said he to +the Samoans. They thought he was giving the name of the breed, and from +that day to this, beef on the hoof and beef in the tin is called +_bullamacow_. + +A Solomon islander cannot say _fence_, so, in bêche de mer, it becomes +_fennis_; store is _sittore_, and box is _bokkis_. Just now the fashion +in chests, which are known as boxes, is to have a bell-arrangement on +the lock so that the box cannot be opened without sounding an alarm. A +box so equipped is not spoken of as a mere box, but as the _bokkis +belong bell_. + +_Fright_ is the bêche de mer for fear. If a native appears timid and +one asks him the cause, he is liable to hear in reply: “Me fright along +you too much.” Or the native may be _fright_ along storm, or wild bush, +or haunted places. _Cross_ covers every form of anger. A man may be +cross at one when he is feeling only petulant; or he may be cross when +he is seeking to chop off your head and make a stew out of you. A +recruit, after having toiled three years on a plantation, was returned +to his own village on Malaita. He was clad in all kinds of gay and +sportive garments. On his head was a top-hat. He possessed a trade-box +full of calico, beads, porpoise-teeth, and tobacco. Hardly was the +anchor down, when the villagers were on board. The recruit looked +anxiously for his own relatives, but none was to be seen. One of the +natives took the pipe out of his mouth. Another confiscated the strings +of beads from around his neck. A third relieved him of his gaudy +loin-cloth, and a fourth tried on the top-hat and omitted to return it. +Finally, one of them took his trade-box, which represented three years’ +toil, and dropped it into a canoe alongside. “That fella belong you?” +the captain asked the recruit, referring to the thief. “No belong me,” +was the answer. “Then why in Jericho do you let him take the box?” the +captain demanded indignantly. Quoth the recruit, “Me speak along him, +say bokkis he stop, that fella he cross along me”—which was the +recruit’s way of saying that the other man would murder him. God’s +wrath, when He sent the Flood, was merely a case of being cross along +mankind. + +What name? is the great interrogation of bêche de mer. It all depends +on how it is uttered. It may mean: What is your business? What do you +mean by this outrageous conduct? What do you want? What is the thing +you are after? You had best watch out; I demand an explanation; and a +few hundred other things. Call a native out of his house in the middle +of the night, and he is likely to demand, “What name you sing out along +me?” + +Imagine the predicament of the Germans on the plantations of +Bougainville Island, who are compelled to learn bêche de mer English in +order to handle the native labourers. It is to them an unscientific +polyglot, and there are no text-books by which to study it. It is a +source of unholy delight to the other white planters and traders to +hear the German wrestling stolidly with the circumlocutions and +short-cuts of a language that has no grammar and no dictionary. + +Some years ago large numbers of Solomon islanders were recruited to +labour on the sugar plantations of Queensland. A missionary urged one +of the labourers, who was a convert, to get up and preach a sermon to a +shipload of Solomon islanders who had just arrived. He chose for his +subject the Fall of Man, and the address he gave became a classic in +all Australasia. It proceeded somewhat in the following manner: + +“Altogether you boy belong Solomons you no savvee white man. Me fella +me savvee him. Me fella me savvee talk along white man. + +“Before long time altogether no place he stop. God big fella marster +belong white man, him fella He make ’m altogether. God big fella +marster belong white man, He make ’m big fella garden. He good fella +too much. Along garden plenty yam he stop, plenty cocoanut, plenty +taro, plenty _kumara_ (sweet potatoes), altogether good fella kai-kai +too much. + +“Bimeby God big fella marster belong white man He make ’m one fella man +and put ’m along garden belong Him. He call ’m this fella man Adam. He +name belong him. He put him this fella man Adam along garden, and He +speak, ‘This fella garden he belong you.’ And He look ’m this fella +Adam he walk about too much. Him fella Adam all the same sick; he no +savvee kai-kai; he walk about all the time. And God He no savvee. God +big fella marster belong white man, He scratch ’m head belong Him. God +say: ‘What name? Me no savvee what name this fella Adam he want.’ + +“Bimeby God He scratch ’m head belong Him too much, and speak: ‘Me +fella me savvee, him fella Adam him want ’m Mary.’ So He make Adam he +go asleep, He take one fella bone belong him, and He make ’m one fella +Mary along bone. He call him this fella Mary, Eve. He give ’m this +fella Eve along Adam, and He speak along him fella Adam: ‘Close up +altogether along this fella garden belong you two fella. One fella tree +he tambo (taboo) along you altogether. This fella tree belong apple.’ + +“So Adam Eve two fella stop along garden, and they two fella have ’m +good time too much. Bimeby, one day, Eve she come along Adam, and she +speak, ‘More good you me two fella we eat ’m this fella apple.’ Adam he +speak, ‘No,’ and Eve she speak, ‘What name you no like ’m me?’ And Adam +he speak, ‘Me like ’m you too much, but me fright along God.’ And Eve +she speak, ‘Gammon! What name? God He no savvee look along us two fella +all ’m time. God big fella marster, He gammon along you.’ But Adam he +speak, ‘No.’ But Eve she talk, talk, talk, allee time—allee same Mary +she talk along boy along Queensland and make ’m trouble along boy. And +bimeby Adam he tired too much, and he speak, ‘All right.’ So these two +fella they go eat ’m. When they finish eat ’m, my word, they fright +like hell, and they go hide along scrub. + +“And God He come walk about along garden, and He sing out, ‘Adam!’ Adam +he no speak. He too much fright. My word! And God He sing out, ‘Adam!’ +And Adam he speak, ‘You call ’m me?’ God He speak, ‘Me call ’m you too +much.’ Adam he speak, ‘Me sleep strong fella too much.’ And God He +speak, ‘You been eat ’m this fella apple.’ Adam he speak, ‘No, me no +been eat ’m.’ God He speak. ‘What name you gammon along me? You been +eat ’m.’ And Adam he speak, ‘Yes, me been eat ’m.’ + +“And God big fella marster He cross along Adam Eve two fella too much, +and He speak, ‘You two fella finish along me altogether. You go catch +’m bokkis (box) belong you, and get to hell along scrub.’ + +“So Adam Eve these two fella go along scrub. And God He make ’m one big +fennis (fence) all around garden and He put ’m one fella marster belong +God along fennis. And He give this fella marster belong God one big +fella musket, and He speak, ‘S’pose you look ’m these two fella Adam +Eve, you shoot ’m plenty too much.’” + + + + +CHAPTER XVII +THE AMATEUR M.D. + + +When we sailed from San Francisco on the _Snark_ I knew as much about +sickness as the Admiral of the Swiss Navy knows about salt water. And +here, at the start, let me advise any one who meditates going to +out-of-the-way tropic places. Go to a first-class druggist—the sort +that have specialists on their salary list who know everything. Talk +the matter over with such an one. Note carefully all that he says. Have +a list made of all that he recommends. Write out a cheque for the total +cost, and tear it up. + +I wish I had done the same. I should have been far wiser, I know now, +if I had bought one of those ready-made, self-acting, fool-proof +medicine chests such as are favoured by fourth-rate ship-masters. In +such a chest each bottle has a number. On the inside of the lid is +placed a simple table of directions: No. 1, toothache; No. 2, smallpox; +No. 3, stomachache; No. 4, cholera; No. 5, rheumatism; and so on, +through the list of human ills. And I might have used it as did a +certain venerable skipper, who, when No. 3 was empty, mixed a dose from +No. 1 and No. 2, or, when No. 7 was all gone, dosed his crew with 4 and +3 till 3 gave out, when he used 5 and 2. + +So far, with the exception of corrosive sublimate (which was +recommended as an antiseptic in surgical operations, and which I have +not yet used for that purpose), my medicine-chest has been useless. It +has been worse than useless, for it has occupied much space which I +could have used to advantage. + +With my surgical instruments it is different. While I have not yet had +serious use for them, I do not regret the space they occupy. The +thought of them makes me feel good. They are so much life insurance, +only, fairer than that last grim game, one is not supposed to die in +order to win. Of course, I don’t know how to use them, and what I don’t +know about surgery would set up a dozen quacks in prosperous practice. +But needs must when the devil drives, and we of the _Snark_ have no +warning when the devil may take it into his head to drive, ay, even a +thousand miles from land and twenty days from the nearest port. + +I did not know anything about dentistry, but a friend fitted me out +with forceps and similar weapons, and in Honolulu I picked up a book +upon teeth. Also, in that sub-tropical city I managed to get hold of a +skull, from which I extracted the teeth swiftly and painlessly. Thus +equipped, I was ready, though not exactly eager, to tackle any tooth +that get in my way. It was in Nuku-hiva, in the Marquesas, that my +first case presented itself in the shape of a little, old Chinese. The +first thing I did was to got the buck fever, and I leave it to any +fair-minded person if buck fever, with its attendant heart-palpitations +and arm-tremblings, is the right condition for a man to be in who is +endeavouring to pose as an old hand at the business. I did not fool the +aged Chinaman. He was as frightened as I and a bit more shaky. I almost +forgot to be frightened in the fear that he would bolt. I swear, if he +had tried to, that I would have tripped him up and sat on him until +calmness and reason returned. + +I wanted that tooth. Also, Martin wanted a snap-shot of me getting it. +Likewise Charmian got her camera. Then the procession started. We were +stopping at what had been the club-house when Stevenson was in the +Marquesas on the Casco. On the veranda, where he had passed so many +pleasant hours, the light was not good—for snapshots, I mean. I led on +into the garden, a chair in one hand, the other hand filled with +forceps of various sorts, my knees knocking together disgracefully. The +poor old Chinaman came second, and he was shaking, too. Charmian and +Martin brought up the rear, armed with kodaks. We dived under the +avocado trees, threaded our way through the cocoanut palms, and came on +a spot that satisfied Martin’s photographic eye. + +I looked at the tooth, and then discovered that I could not remember +anything about the teeth I had pulled from the skull five months +previously. Did it have one prong? two prongs? or three prongs? What +was left of the part that showed appeared very crumbly, and I knew that +I should have taken hold of the tooth deep down in the gum. It was very +necessary that I should know how many prongs that tooth had. Back to +the house I went for the book on teeth. The poor old victim looked like +photographs I had seen of fellow-countrymen of his, criminals, on their +knees, waiting the stroke of the beheading sword. + +“Don’t let him get away,” I cautioned to Martin. “I want that tooth.” + +“I sure won’t,” he replied with enthusiasm, from behind his camera. “I +want that photograph.” + +For the first time I felt sorry for the Chinaman. Though the book did +not tell me anything about pulling teeth, it was all right, for on one +page I found drawings of all the teeth, including their prongs and how +they were set in the jaw. Then came the pursuit of the forceps. I had +seven pairs, but was in doubt as to which pair I should use. I did not +want any mistake. As I turned the hardware over with rattle and clang, +the poor victim began to lose his grip and to turn a greenish yellow +around the gills. He complained about the sun, but that was necessary +for the photograph, and he had to stand it. I fitted the forceps around +the tooth, and the patient shivered and began to wilt. + +“Ready?” I called to Martin. + +“All ready,” he answered. + +I gave a pull. Ye gods! The tooth was loose! Out it came on the +instant. I was jubilant as I held it aloft in the forceps. + +“Put it back, please, oh, put it back,” Martin pleaded. “You were too +quick for me.” + +And the poor old Chinaman sat there while I put the tooth back and +pulled over. Martin snapped the camera. The deed was done. Elation? +Pride? No hunter was ever prouder of his first pronged buck than I was +of that three-pronged tooth. I did it! I did it! With my own hands and +a pair of forceps I did it, to say nothing of the forgotten memories of +the dead man’s skull. + +My next case was a Tahitian sailor. He was a small man, in a state of +collapse from long days and nights of jumping toothache. I lanced the +gums first. I didn’t know how to lance them, but I lanced them just the +same. It was a long pull and a strong pull. The man was a hero. He +groaned and moaned, and I thought he was going to faint. But he kept +his mouth open and let me pull. And then it came. + +After that I was ready to meet all comers—just the proper state of mind +for a Waterloo. And it came. Its name was Tomi. He was a strapping +giant of a heathen with a bad reputation. He was addicted to deeds of +violence. Among other things he had beaten two of his wives to death +with his fists. His father and mother had been naked cannibals. When he +sat down and I put the forceps into his mouth, he was nearly as tall as +I was standing up. Big men, prone to violence, very often have a streak +of fat in their make-up, so I was doubtful of him. Charmian grabbed one +arm and Warren grabbed the other. Then the tug of war began. The +instant the forceps closed down on the tooth, his jaws closed down on +the forceps. Also, both his hands flew up and gripped my pulling hand. +I held on, and he held on. Charmian and Warren held on. We wrestled all +about the shop. + +It was three against one, and my hold on an aching tooth was certainly +a foul one; but in spite of the handicap he got away with us. The +forceps slipped off, banging and grinding along against his upper teeth +with a nerve-scraping sound. Out of his month flew the forceps, and he +rose up in the air with a blood-curdling yell. The three of us fell +back. We expected to be massacred. But that howling savage of +sanguinary reputation sank back in the chair. He held his head in both +his hands, and groaned and groaned and groaned. Nor would he listen to +reason. I was a quack. My painless tooth-extraction was a delusion and +a snare and a low advertising dodge. I was so anxious to get that tooth +that I was almost ready to bribe him. But that went against my +professional pride and I let him depart with the tooth still intact, +the only case on record up to date of failure on my part when once I +had got a grip. Since then I have never let a tooth go by me. Only the +other day I volunteered to beat up three days to windward to pull a +woman missionary’s tooth. I expect, before the voyage of the _Snark_ is +finished, to be doing bridge work and putting on gold crowns. + +I don’t know whether they are yaws or not—a physician in Fiji told me +they were, and a missionary in the Solomons told me they were not; but +at any rate I can vouch for the fact that they are most uncomfortable. +It was my luck to ship in Tahiti a French-sailor, who, when we got to +sea, proved to be afflicted with a vile skin disease. The _Snark_ was +too small and too much of a family party to permit retaining him on +board; but perforce, until we could reach land and discharge him, it +was up to me to doctor him. I read up the books and proceeded to treat +him, taking care afterwards always to use a thorough antiseptic wash. +When we reached Tutuila, far from getting rid of him, the port doctor +declared a quarantine against him and refused to allow him ashore. But +at Apia, Samoa, I managed to ship him off on a steamer to New Zealand. +Here at Apia my ankles were badly bitten by mosquitoes, and I confess +to having scratched the bites—as I had a thousand times before. By the +time I reached the island of Savaii, a small sore had developed on the +hollow of my instep. I thought it was due to chafe and to acid fumes +from the hot lava over which I tramped. An application of salve would +cure it—so I thought. The salve did heal it over, whereupon an +astonishing inflammation set in, the new skin came off, and a larger +sore was exposed. This was repeated many times. Each time new skin +formed, an inflammation followed, and the circumference of the sore +increased. I was puzzled and frightened. All my life my skin had been +famous for its healing powers, yet here was something that would not +heal. Instead, it was daily eating up more skin, while it had eaten +down clear through the skin and was eating up the muscle itself. + +By this time the _Snark_ was at sea on her way to Fiji. I remembered +the French sailor, and for the first time became seriously alarmed. +Four other similar sores had appeared—or ulcers, rather, and the pain +of them kept me awake at night. All my plans were made to lay up the +_Snark_ in Fiji and get away on the first steamer to Australia and +professional M.D.’s. In the meantime, in my amateur M.D. way, I did my +best. I read through all the medical works on board. Not a line nor a +word could I find descriptive of my affliction. I brought common +horse-sense to bear on the problem. Here were malignant and excessively +active ulcers that were eating me up. There was an organic and +corroding poison at work. Two things I concluded must be done. First, +some agent must be found to destroy the poison. Secondly, the ulcers +could not possibly heal from the outside in; they must heal from the +inside out. I decided to fight the poison with corrosive sublimate. The +very name of it struck me as vicious. Talk of fighting fire with fire! +I was being consumed by a corrosive poison, and it appealed to my fancy +to fight it with another corrosive poison. After several days I +alternated dressings of corrosive sublimate with dressings of peroxide +of hydrogen. And behold, by the time we reached Fiji four of the five +ulcers were healed, while the remaining one was no bigger than a pea. + +I now felt fully qualified to treat yaws. Likewise I had a wholesome +respect for them. Not so the rest of the crew of the _Snark_. In their +case, seeing was not believing. One and all, they had seen my dreadful +predicament; and all of them, I am convinced, had a subconscious +certitude that their own superb constitutions and glorious +personalities would never allow lodgment of so vile a poison in their +carcasses as my anæmic constitution and mediocre personality had +allowed to lodge in mine. At Port Resolution, in the New Hebrides, +Martin elected to walk barefooted in the bush and returned on board +with many cuts and abrasions, especially on his shins. + +“You’d better be careful,” I warned him. “I’ll mix up some corrosive +sublimate for you to wash those cuts with. An ounce of prevention, you +know.” + +But Martin smiled a superior smile. Though he did not say so, I +nevertheless was given to understand that he was not as other men (I +was the only man he could possibly have had reference to), and that in +a couple of days his cuts would be healed. He also read me a +dissertation upon the peculiar purity of his blood and his remarkable +healing powers. I felt quite humble when he was done with me. Evidently +I was different from other men in so far as purity of blood was +concerned. + +Nakata, the cabin-boy, while ironing one day, mistook the calf of his +leg for the ironing-block and accumulated a burn three inches in length +and half an inch wide. He, too, smiled the superior smile when I +offered him corrosive sublimate and reminded him of my own cruel +experience. I was given to understand, with all due suavity and +courtesy, that no matter what was the matter with my blood, his +number-one, Japanese, Port-Arthur blood was all right and scornful of +the festive microbe. + +Wada, the cook, took part in a disastrous landing of the launch, when +he had to leap overboard and fend the launch off the beach in a +smashing surf. By means of shells and coral he cut his legs and feet up +beautifully. I offered him the corrosive sublimate bottle. Once again I +suffered the superior smile and was given to understand that his blood +was the same blood that had licked Russia and was going to lick the +United States some day, and that if his blood wasn’t able to cure a few +trifling cuts, he’d commit hari-kari in sheer disgrace. + +From all of which I concluded that an amateur M.D. is without honour on +his own vessel, even if he has cured himself. The rest of the crew had +begun to look upon me as a sort of mild mono-maniac on the question of +sores and sublimate. Just because my blood was impure was no reason +that I should think everybody else’s was. I made no more overtures. +Time and microbes were with me, and all I had to do was wait. + +“I think there’s some dirt in these cuts,” Martin said tentatively, +after several days. “I’ll wash them out and then they’ll be all right,” +he added, after I had refused to rise to the bait. + +Two more days passed, but the cuts did not pass, and I caught Martin +soaking his feet and legs in a pail of hot water. + +“Nothing like hot water,” he proclaimed enthusiastically. “It beats all +the dope the doctors ever put up. These sores will be all right in the +morning.” + +But in the morning he wore a troubled look, and I knew that the hour of +my triumph approached. + +“I think I _will_ try some of that medicine,” he announced later on in +the day. “Not that I think it’ll do much good,” he qualified, “but I’ll +just give it a try anyway.” + +Next came the proud blood of Japan to beg medicine for its illustrious +sores, while I heaped coals of fire on all their houses by explaining +in minute and sympathetic detail the treatment that should be given. +Nakata followed instructions implicitly, and day by day his sores grew +smaller. Wada was apathetic, and cured less readily. But Martin still +doubted, and because he did not cure immediately, he developed the +theory that while doctor’s dope was all right, it did not follow that +the same kind of dope was efficacious with everybody. As for himself, +corrosive sublimate had no effect. Besides, how did I know that it was +the right stuff? I had had no experience. Just because I happened to +get well while using it was not proof that it had played any part in +the cure. There were such things as coincidences. Without doubt there +was a dope that would cure the sores, and when he ran across a real +doctor he would find what that dope was and get some of it. + +About this time we arrived in the Solomon Islands. No physician would +ever recommend the group for invalids or sanitoriums. I spent but +little time there ere I really and for the first time in my life +comprehended how frail and unstable is human tissue. Our first +anchorage was Port Mary, on the island of Santa Anna. The one lone +white man, a trader, came alongside. Tom Butler was his name, and he +was a beautiful example of what the Solomons can do to a strong man. He +lay in his whale-boat with the helplessness of a dying man. No smile +and little intelligence illumined his face. He was a sombre +death’s-head, too far gone to grin. He, too, had yaws, big ones. We +were compelled to drag him over the rail of the _Snark_. He said that +his health was good, that he had not had the fever for some time, and +that with the exception of his arm he was all right and trim. His arm +appeared to be paralysed. Paralysis he rejected with scorn. He had had +it before, and recovered. It was a common native disease on Santa Anna, +he said, as he was helped down the companion ladder, his dead arm +dropping, bump-bump, from step to step. He was certainly the ghastliest +guest we ever entertained, and we’ve had not a few lepers and +elephantiasis victims on board. + +Martin inquired about yaws, for here was a man who ought to know. He +certainly did know, if we could judge by his scarred arms and legs and +by the live ulcers that corroded in the midst of the scars. Oh, one got +used to yaws, quoth Tom Butler. They were never really serious until +they had eaten deep into the flesh. Then they attacked the walls of the +arteries, the arteries burst, and there was a funeral. Several of the +natives had recently died that way ashore. But what did it matter? If +it wasn’t yaws, it was something else in the Solomons. + +I noticed that from this moment Martin displayed a swiftly increasing +interest in his own yaws. Dosings with corrosive sublimate were more +frequent, while, in conversation, he began to revert with growing +enthusiasm to the clean climate of Kansas and all other things Kansan. +Charmian and I thought that California was a little bit of all right. +Henry swore by Rapa, and Tehei staked all on Bora Bora for his own +blood’s sake; while Wada and Nakata sang the sanitary pæan of Japan. + +One evening, as the _Snark_ worked around the southern end of the +island of Ugi, looking for a reputed anchorage, a Church of England +missionary, a Mr. Drew, bound in his whaleboat for the coast of San +Cristoval, came alongside and stopped for dinner. Martin, his legs +swathed in Red Cross bandages till they looked like a mummy’s, turned +the conversation upon yaws. Yes, said Mr. Drew, they were quite common +in the Solomons. All white men caught them. + +“And have you had them?” Martin demanded, in the soul of him quite +shocked that a Church of England missionary could possess so vulgar an +affliction. + +Mr. Drew nodded his head and added that not only had he had them, but +at that moment he was doctoring several. + +“What do you use on them?” Martin asked like a flash. + +My heart almost stood still waiting the answer. By that answer my +professional medical prestige stood or fell. Martin, I could see, was +quite sure it was going to fall. And then the answer—O blessed answer! + +“Corrosive sublimate,” said Mr. Drew. + +Martin gave in handsomely, I’ll admit, and I am confident that at that +moment, if I had asked permission to pull one of his teeth, he would +not have denied me. + +All white men in the Solomons catch yaws, and every cut or abrasion +practically means another yaw. Every man I met had had them, and nine +out of ten had active ones. There was but one exception, a young fellow +who had been in the islands five months, who had come down with fever +ten days after he arrived, and who had since then been down so often +with fever that he had had neither time nor opportunity for yaws. + +Every one on the _Snark_ except Charmian came down with yaws. Hers was +the same egotism that Japan and Kansas had displayed. She ascribed her +immunity to the pureness of her blood, and as the days went by she +ascribed it more often and more loudly to the pureness of her blood. +Privately I ascribed her immunity to the fact that, being a woman, she +escaped most of the cuts and abrasions to which we hard-working men +were subject in the course of working the _Snark_ around the world. I +did not tell her so. You see, I did not wish to bruise her ego with +brutal facts. Being an M.D., if only an amateur one, I knew more about +the disease than she, and I knew that time was my ally. But alas, I +abused my ally when it dealt a charming little yaw on the shin. So +quickly did I apply antiseptic treatment, that the yaw was cured before +she was convinced that she had one. Again, as an M.D., I was without +honour on my own vessel; and, worse than that, I was charged with +having tried to mislead her into the belief that she had had a yaw. The +pureness of her blood was more rampant than ever, and I poked my nose +into my navigation books and kept quiet. And then came the day. We were +cruising along the coast of Malaita at the time. + +“What’s that abaft your ankle-bone?” said I. + +“Nothing,” said she. + +“All right,” said I; “but put some corrosive sublimate on it just the +same. And some two or three weeks from now, when it is well and you +have a scar that you will carry to your grave, just forget about the +purity of your blood and your ancestral history and tell me what you +think about yaws anyway.” + +It was as large as a silver dollar, that yaw, and it took all of three +weeks to heal. There were times when Charmian could not walk because of +the hurt of it; and there were times upon times when she explained that +abaft the ankle-bone was the most painful place to have a yaw. I +explained, in turn, that, never having experienced a yaw in that +locality, I was driven to conclude the hollow of the instep was the +most painful place for yaw-culture. We left it to Martin, who disagreed +with both of us and proclaimed passionately that the only truly painful +place was the shin. No wonder horse-racing is so popular. + +But yaws lose their novelty after a time. At the present moment of +writing I have five yaws on my hands and three more on my shin. +Charmian has one on each side of her right instep. Tehei is frantic +with his. Martin’s latest shin-cultures have eclipsed his earlier ones. +And Nakata has several score casually eating away at his tissue. But +the history of the _Snark_ in the Solomons has been the history of +every ship since the early discoverers. From the “Sailing Directions” I +quote the following: + +“The crews of vessels remaining any considerable time in the Solomons +find wounds and sores liable to change into malignant ulcers.” + +Nor on the question of fever were the “Sailing Directions” any more +encouraging, for in them I read: + +“New arrivals are almost certain sooner or later to suffer from fever. +The natives are also subject to it. The number of deaths among the +whites in the year 1897 amounted to 9 among a population of 50.” + +Some of these deaths, however, were accidental. + +Nakata was the first to come down with fever. This occurred at +Penduffryn. Wada and Henry followed him. Charmian surrendered next. I +managed to escape for a couple of months; but when I was bowled over, +Martin sympathetically joined me several days later. Out of the seven +of us all told Tehei is the only one who has escaped; but his +sufferings from nostalgia are worse than fever. Nakata, as usual, +followed instructions faithfully, so that by the end of his third +attack he could take a two hours’ sweat, consume thirty or forty grains +of quinine, and be weak but all right at the end of twenty-four hours. + +Wada and Henry, however, were tougher patients with which to deal. In +the first place, Wada got in a bad funk. He was of the firm conviction +that his star had set and that the Solomons would receive his bones. He +saw that life about him was cheap. At Penduffryn he saw the ravages of +dysentery, and, unfortunately for him, he saw one victim carried out on +a strip of galvanized sheet-iron and dumped without coffin or funeral +into a hole in the ground. Everybody had fever, everybody had +dysentery, everybody had everything. Death was common. Here to-day and +gone to-morrow—and Wada forgot all about to-day and made up his mind +that to-morrow had come. + +He was careless of his ulcers, neglected to sublimate them, and by +uncontrolled scratching spread them all over his body. Nor would he +follow instructions with fever, and, as a result, would be down five +days at a time, when a day would have been sufficient. Henry, who is a +strapping giant of a man, was just as bad. He refused point blank to +take quinine, on the ground that years before he had had fever and that +the pills the doctor gave him were of different size and colour from +the quinine tablets I offered him. So Henry joined Wada. + +But I fooled the pair of them, and dosed them with their own medicine, +which was faith-cure. They had faith in their funk that they were going +to die. I slammed a lot of quinine down their throats and took their +temperature. It was the first time I had used my medicine-chest +thermometer, and I quickly discovered that it was worthless, that it +had been produced for profit and not for service. If I had let on to my +two patients that the thermometer did not work, there would have been +two funerals in short order. Their temperature I swear was 105°. I +solemnly made one and then the other smoke the thermometer, allowed an +expression of satisfaction to irradiate my countenance, and joyfully +told them that their temperature was 94°. Then I slammed more quinine +down their throats, told them that any sickness or weakness they might +experience would be due to the quinine, and left them to get well. And +they did get well, Wada in spite of himself. If a man can die through a +misapprehension, is there any immorality in making him live through a +misapprehension? + +Commend me the white race when it comes to grit and surviving. One of +our two Japanese and both our Tahitians funked and had to be slapped on +the back and cheered up and dragged along by main strength toward life. +Charmian and Martin took their afflictions cheerfully, made the least +of them, and moved with calm certitude along the way of life. When Wada +and Henry were convinced that they were going to die, the funeral +atmosphere was too much for Tehei, who prayed dolorously and cried for +hours at a time. Martin, on the other hand, cursed and got well, and +Charmian groaned and made plans for what she was going to do when she +got well again. + +Charmian had been raised a vegetarian and a sanitarian. Her Aunt Netta, +who brought her up and who lived in a healthful climate, did not +believe in drugs. Neither did Charmian. Besides, drugs disagreed with +her. Their effects were worse than the ills they were supposed to +alleviate. But she listened to the argument in favour of quinine, +accepted it as the lesser evil, and in consequence had shorter, less +painful, and less frequent attacks of fever. We encountered a Mr. +Caulfeild, a missionary, whose two predecessors had died after less +than six months’ residence in the Solomons. Like them he had been a +firm believer in homeopathy, until after his first fever, whereupon, +unlike them, he made a grand slide back to allopathy and quinine, +catching fever and carrying on his Gospel work. + +But poor Wada! The straw that broke the cook’s back was when Charmian +and I took him along on a cruise to the cannibal island of Malaita, in +a small yacht, on the deck of which the captain had been murdered half +a year before. _Kai-kai_ means to eat, and Wada was sure he was going +to be _kai-kai’d_. We went about heavily armed, our vigilance was +unremitting, and when we went for a bath in the mouth of a fresh-water +stream, black boys, armed with rifles, did sentry duty about us. We +encountered English war vessels burning and shelling villages in +punishment for murders. Natives with prices on their heads sought +shelter on board of us. Murder stalked abroad in the land. In +out-of-the-way places we received warnings from friendly savages of +impending attacks. Our vessel owed two heads to Malaita, which were +liable to be collected any time. Then to cap it all, we were wrecked on +a reef, and with rifles in one hand warned the canoes of wreckers off +while with the other hand we toiled to save the ship. All of which was +too much for Wada, who went daffy, and who finally quitted the _Snark_ +on the island of Ysabel, going ashore for good in a driving rain-storm, +between two attacks of fever, while threatened with pneumonia. If he +escapes being _kai-kai’d_, and if he can survive sores and fever which +are riotous ashore, he can expect, if he is reasonably lucky, to get +away from that place to the adjacent island in anywhere from six to +eight weeks. He never did think much of my medicine, despite the fact +that I successfully and at the first trial pulled two aching teeth for +him. + +The _Snark_ has been a hospital for months, and I confess that we are +getting used to it. At Meringe Lagoon, where we careened and cleaned +the _Snark’s_ copper, there were times when only one man of us was able +to go into the water, while the three white men on the plantation +ashore were all down with fever. At the moment of writing this we are +lost at sea somewhere northeast of Ysabel and trying vainly to find +Lord Howe Island, which is an atoll that cannot be sighted unless one +is on top of it. The chronometer has gone wrong. The sun does not shine +anyway, nor can I get a star observation at night, and we have had +nothing but squalls and rain for days and days. The cook is gone. +Nakata, who has been trying to be both cook and cabin boy, is down on +his back with fever. Martin is just up from fever, and going down +again. Charmian, whose fever has become periodical, is looking up in +her date book to find when the next attack will be. Henry has begun to +eat quinine in an expectant mood. And, since my attacks hit me with the +suddenness of bludgeon-blows I do not know from moment to moment when I +shall be brought down. By a mistake we gave our last flour away to some +white men who did not have any flour. We don’t know when we’ll make +land. Our Solomon sores are worse than ever, and more numerous. The +corrosive sublimate was accidentally left ashore at Penduffryn; the +peroxide of hydrogen is exhausted; and I am experimenting with boracic +acid, lysol, and antiphlogystine. At any rate, if I fail in becoming a +reputable M.D., it won’t be from lack of practice. + +P.S. It is now two weeks since the foregoing was written, and Tehei, +the only immune on board has been down ten days with far severer fever +than any of us and is still down. His temperature has been repeatedly +as high as 104, and his pulse 115. + +P.S. At sea, between Tasman atoll and Manning Straits. Tehei’s attack +developed into black water fever—the severest form of malarial fever, +which, the doctor-book assures me, is due to some outside infection as +well. Having pulled him through his fever, I am now at my wit’s end, +for he has lost his wits altogether. I am rather recent in practice to +take up the cure of insanity. This makes the second lunacy case on this +short voyage. + +P.S. Some day I shall write a book (for the profession), and entitle +it, “Around the World on the Hospital Ship _Snark_.” Even our pets have +not escaped. We sailed from Meringe Lagoon with two, an Irish terrier +and a white cockatoo. The terrier fell down the cabin companionway and +lamed its nigh hind leg, then repeated the manœuvre and lamed its off +fore leg. At the present moment it has but two legs to walk on. +Fortunately, they are on opposite sides and ends, so that she can still +dot and carry two. The cockatoo was crushed under the cabin skylight +and had to be killed. This was our first funeral—though for that +matter, the several chickens we had, and which would have made welcome +broth for the convalescents, flew overboard and were drowned. Only the +cockroaches flourish. Neither illness nor accident ever befalls them, +and they grow larger and more carnivorous day by day, gnawing our +finger-nails and toe-nails while we sleep. + +P.S. Charmian is having another bout with fever. Martin, in despair, +has taken to horse-doctoring his yaws with bluestone and to blessing +the Solomons. As for me, in addition to navigating, doctoring, and +writing short stories, I am far from well. With the exception of the +insanity cases, I’m the worst off on board. I shall catch the next +steamer to Australia and go on the operating table. Among my minor +afflictions, I may mention a new and mysterious one. For the past week +my hands have been swelling as with dropsy. It is only by a painful +effort that I can close them. A pull on a rope is excruciating. The +sensations are like those that accompany severe chilblains. Also, the +skin is peeling off both hands at an alarming rate, besides which the +new skin underneath is growing hard and thick. The doctor-book fails to +mention this disease. Nobody knows what it is. + +P.S. Well, anyway, I’ve cured the chronometer. After knocking about the +sea for eight squally, rainy days, most of the time hove to, I +succeeded in catching a partial observation of the sun at midday. From +this I worked up my latitude, then headed by log to the latitude of +Lord Howe, and ran both that latitude and the island down together. +Here I tested the chronometer by longitude sights and found it +something like three minutes out. Since each minute is equivalent to +fifteen miles, the total error can be appreciated. By repeated +observations at Lord Howe I rated the chronometer, finding it to have a +daily losing error of seven-tenths of a second. Now it happens that a +year ago, when we sailed from Hawaii, that selfsame chronometer had +that selfsame losing error of seven-tenths of a second. Since that +error was faithfully added every day, and since that error, as proved +by my observations at Lord Howe, has not changed, then what under the +sun made that chronometer all of a sudden accelerate and catch up with +itself three minutes? Can such things be? Expert watchmakers say no; +but I say that they have never done any expert watch-making and +watch-rating in the Solomons. That it is the climate is my only +diagnosis. At any rate, I have successfully doctored the chronometer, +even if I have failed with the lunacy cases and with Martin’s yaws. + +P.S. Martin has just tried burnt alum, and is blessing the Solomons +more fervently than ever. + +P.S. Between Manning Straits and Pavuvu Islands. + +Henry has developed rheumatism in his back, ten skins have peeled off +my hands and the eleventh is now peeling, while Tehei is more lunatic +than ever and day and night prays God not to kill him. Also, Nakata and +I are slashing away at fever again. And finally up to date, Nakata last +evening had an attack of ptomaine poisoning, and we spent half the +night pulling him through. + + + + +BACKWORD + + +The _Snark_ was forty-three feet on the water-line and fifty-five over +all, with fifteen feet beam (tumble-home sides) and seven feet eight +inches draught. She was ketch-rigged, carrying flying-jib, jib, +fore-staysail, main-sail, mizzen, and spinnaker. There were six feet of +head-room below, and she was crown-decked and flush-decked. There were +four alleged _water-tight_ compartments. A seventy-horse power +auxiliary gas-engine sporadically furnished locomotion at an +approximate cost of twenty dollars per mile. A five-horse power engine +ran the pumps when it was in order, and on two occasions proved capable +of furnishing juice for the search-light. The storage batteries worked +four or five times in the course of two years. The fourteen-foot launch +was rumoured to work at times, but it invariably broke down whenever I +stepped on board. + +But the _Snark_ sailed. It was the only way she could get anywhere. She +sailed for two years, and never touched rock, reef, nor shoal. She had +no inside ballast, her iron keel weighed five tons, but her deep +draught and high freeboard made her very stiff. Caught under full sail +in tropic squalls, she buried her rail and deck many times, but +stubbornly refused to turn turtle. She steered easily, and she could +run day and night, without steering, close-by, full-and-by, and with +the wind abeam. With the wind on her quarter and the sails properly +trimmed, she steered herself within two points, and with the wind +almost astern she required scarcely three points for self-steering. + +The _Snark_ was partly built in San Francisco. The morning her iron +keel was to be cast was the morning of the great earthquake. Then came +anarchy. Six months overdue in the building, I sailed the shell of her +to Hawaii to be finished, the engine lashed to the bottom, building +materials lashed on deck. Had I remained in San Francisco for +completion, I’d still be there. As it was, partly built, she cost four +times what she ought to have cost. + +The _Snark_ was born unfortunately. She was libelled in San Francisco, +had her cheques protested as fraudulent in Hawaii, and was fined for +breach of quarantine in the Solomons. To save themselves, the +newspapers could not tell the truth about her. When I discharged an +incompetent captain, they said I had beaten him to a pulp. When one +young man returned home to continue at college, it was reported that I +was a regular Wolf Larsen, and that my whole crew had deserted because +I had beaten it to a pulp. In fact the only blow struck on the _Snark_ +was when the cook was manhandled by a captain who had shipped with me +under false pretences, and whom I discharged in Fiji. Also, Charmian +and I boxed for exercise; but neither of us was seriously maimed. + +The voyage was our idea of a good time. I built the _Snark_ and paid +for it, and for all expenses. I contracted to write thirty-five +thousand words descriptive of the trip for a magazine which was to pay +me the same rate I received for stories written at home. Promptly the +magazine advertised that it was sending me especially around the world +for itself. It was a wealthy magazine. And every man who had business +dealings with the _Snark_ charged three prices because forsooth the +magazine could afford it. Down in the uttermost South Sea isle this +myth obtained, and I paid accordingly. To this day everybody believes +that the magazine paid for everything and that I made a fortune out of +the voyage. It is hard, after such advertising, to hammer it into the +human understanding that the whole voyage was done for the fun of it. + +I went to Australia to go into hospital, where I spent five weeks. I +spent five months miserably sick in hotels. The mysterious malady that +afflicted my hands was too much for the Australian specialists. It was +unknown in the literature of medicine. No case like it had ever been +reported. It extended from my hands to my feet so that at times I was +as helpless as a child. On occasion my hands were twice their natural +size, with seven dead and dying skins peeling off at the same time. +There were times when my toe-nails, in twenty-four hours, grew as thick +as they were long. After filing them off, inside another twenty-four +hours they were as thick as before. + +The Australian specialists agreed that the malady was non-parasitic, +and that, therefore, it must be nervous. It did not mend, and it was +impossible for me to continue the voyage. The only way I could have +continued it would have been by being lashed in my bunk, for in my +helpless condition, unable to clutch with my hands, I could not have +moved about on a small rolling boat. Also, I said to myself that while +there were many boats and many voyages, I had but one pair of hands and +one set of toe-nails. Still further, I reasoned that in my own climate +of California I had always maintained a stable nervous equilibrium. So +back I came. + +Since my return I have completely recovered. And I have found out what +was the matter with me. I encountered a book by Lieutenant-Colonel +Charles E. Woodruff of the United States Army entitled “Effects of +Tropical Light on White Men.” Then I knew. Later, I met Colonel +Woodruff, and learned that he had been similarly afflicted. Himself an +Army surgeon, seventeen Army surgeons sat on his case in the +Philippines, and, like the Australian specialists, confessed themselves +beaten. In brief, I had a strong predisposition toward the +tissue-destructiveness of tropical light. I was being torn to pieces by +the ultra-violet rays just as many experimenters with the X-ray have +been torn to pieces. + +In passing, I may mention that among the other afflictions that jointly +compelled the abandonment of the voyage, was one that is variously +called the healthy man’s disease, European Leprosy, and Biblical +Leprosy. Unlike True Leprosy, nothing is known of this mysterious +malady. No doctor has ever claimed a cure for a case of it, though +spontaneous cures are recorded. It comes, they know not how. It is, +they know not what. It goes, they know not why. Without the use of +drugs, merely by living in the wholesome California climate, my silvery +skin vanished. The only hope the doctors had held out to me was a +spontaneous cure, and such a cure was mine. + +A last word: the test of the voyage. It is easy enough for me or any +man to say that it was enjoyable. But there is a better witness, the +one woman who made it from beginning to end. In hospital when I broke +the news to Charmian that I must go back to California, the tears +welled into her eyes. For two days she was wrecked and broken by the +knowledge that the happy, happy voyage was abandoned. + +Glen Ellen, California, + _April_ 7, 1911. + + + + +FOOTNOTES + + +[268] To point out that we of the _Snark_ are not a crowd of weaklings, +which might be concluded from our divers afflictions, I quote the +following, which I gleaned verbatim from the _Eugenie’s_ log and which +may be considered as a sample of Solomon Islands cruising: +Ulava, Thursday, March 12, 1908. + +Boat went ashore in the morning. Got two loads ivory nut, 4000 copra. +Skipper down with fever. +Ulava, Friday, March 13, 1908. + +Buying nuts from bushmen, 1½ ton. Mate and skipper down with fever. +Ulava, Saturday, March 14, 1908. + +At noon hove up and proceeded with a very light E.N.E. wind for +Ngora-Ngora. Anchored in 5 fathoms—shell and coral. Mate down with +fever. +Ngora-Ngora, Sunday, March 15, 1908. + +At daybreak found that the boy Bagua had died during the night, on +dysentery. He was about 14 days sick. At sunset, big N.W. squall. +(Second anchor ready) Lasting one hour and 30 minutes. +At sea, Monday, March 16, 1908. + +Set course for Sikiana at 4 P.M. Wind broke off. Heavy squalls during +the night. Skipper down on dysentery, also one man. +At sea, Tuesday, March 17, 1908. + +Skipper and 2 crew down on dysentery. Mate fever. +At sea, Wednesday, March 18, 1908. + +Big sea. Lee-rail under water all the time. Ship under reefed mainsail, +staysail, and inner jib. Skipper and 3 men dysentery. Mate fever. +At sea, Thursday, March 19, 1908. + +Too thick to see anything. Blowing a gale all the time. Pump plugged up +and bailing with buckets. Skipper and five boys down on dysentery. +At sea, Friday, March 20, 1908. + +During night squalls with hurricane force. Skipper and six men down on +dysentery. +At sea, Saturday, March 21, 1908. + +Turned back from Sikiana. Squalls all day with heavy rain and sea. +Skipper and best part of crew on dysentery. Mate fever. + + +And so, day by day, with the majority of all on board prostrated, the +_Eugenie’s_ log goes on. The only variety occurred on March 31, when +the mate came down with dysentery and the skipper was floored by fever. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRUISE OF THE SNARK *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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