1893.]

THE VOYAGE TO HAWAII.

71

indigenous coffee of the Hawaiian Islands), with other little luxuries which he was able to procure

for us.

The weather was enchanting; and we steamed down the Bay, through the Golden Gate, under cloudless skies, in floods of sunshine, past the grey craggy Faarallones peopled with seagulls, of which dominion the light-keeper is king. It was like a soft May day. The next morning I was roused by a knock at my door, and Dr. S― said, "Look out of your air port, and you will see the Monawai passing." In these lonely seas one may sail for days without a glimpse of a mast or a funnel, so the passing of a ship is an event. It gradually grew warmer, and summer clothing was in demand the third day out.

Though the Pacific does not always deserve its name, the entire voyage was something never to be forgotten. The water was blue as sapphire, and peopled with living creatures: flocks of flying fish, like small white birds, leaped from the waves, ventured their short, swift flight, and sank back into their native element; occasionally the dim outline of a grey and ancient whale could be descried far off; the white gulls followed us half-way across, and the brown gulls met us in mid-ocean and escorted us the rest of the distance. As we approached the land, which was sighted early on the morning of February 22nd, the "bo'sun bird," as the sailors

call the beautiful creature, circled round the ship, pure white, with two extraordinarily long white feathers in the tail, fluttering like pennons as it flew. As we neared the tropics heavy showers were frequent; they came on suddenly, the rain fell heavily for a few moments, and then the sun came out. Sometimes we could see half a dozen of these tropical showers descending from clouds at different points around the horizon; one could then realise the small area which such a rainfall covered. The rainbows were marvellous, spanning the sky with an opalescent arch apparently rising from and sinking into the sea. The phenomenon is so common in the Islands that the natives once called them the " Islands of Rainbows.'

The first of the group to lift itself from the sea was Molokai, the prison-house of the lepers. From a distance it seemed to lie low against the water, like a giant tortoise; but it is in reality a mass of forbidding cliffs and almost inaccessible precipices. There are eight inhabited islands in the group, which have an area of six thousand seven hundred square miles; they are Hawaii, which is the largest, Maui, Kahoolawe, Lanai, Molokai, Oahu, Kauai, and Niihau.

Nothing could have exceeded the loveliness of the morning. There was not a ripple upon the bay; the wonderful colour of the water, the deepest blue, banded with pink, rose, violet, brown, and yellow, with streaks of palest green, was something that the

1893.] THE BRIGHTON OF HONOLULU.

73

most fervid imagination could not have pictured. The white surf was beating against the hidden reefs, a fringe of tossing spray; to the right rose the naked crag of Diamond Head, seamed and scarified by primeval volcanic fires. There were other peaks, Tantalus and Round Top: there is always a Round Top everywhere- such, in the matter of fitting names, is the mental poverty of mankind. These remote peaks were clothed with dense masses of vegetation, the native forests which grow in these higher altitudes; on the lower slopes, the merest dots and specks, could be seen the white houses and gardens of the industrious Portuguese; below these there were stretches of fertile valley covered with velvet sward. The city followed the curve of the harbour from the docks to Waikaiki, a beautiful suburb which Mrs. Isabella Bird Bishop has named "The Brighton of Honolulu." The name is hardly a fitting one, since it is a succession of fine private villas standing beside the sea in the midst of tropical gardens, visited little by the public except select companies of bathers and by those who drive out along the well-kept road in the cool of the early morning or evening.

The harbour showed a forest of masts; this should have been anticipated, for it is not so very many years ago since it was a most important port from which whaling vessels set out upon their long voyages. For some strange reasons on their first voyage the

Hawaiians made admirable whalers, the cold of the Arctic or Antarctic proving a keen tonic; the second year, however, they were of less value, probably because, their curiosity having been gratified, their interest waned and they had more time to brood over discomforts that did not disturb them at first. In those old days it is said that one could walk for a long distance by stepping from the deck of one whaling vessel to another, as they lay anchored closely side by side. Both Hilo, in Hawaii, and Honolulu were important ports in the whaling trade.

It was Washington's birthday, an American national holiday, and the three American men-of-war, the Boston, with the Alliance and the Mohican, were gaily dressed from bow to topmast. The great Naniwa, which had been dispatched to Honolulu, and was protecting the Japanese interests in the Islands, commanded by a cousin of the Mikado, and which afterwards took such an important part in the war with China, also displayed a mass of flags and pennons out of courtesy to the American ships. The four war vessels, with the English Garnet, were anchored side by side, constituting what was known as “Naval Row." As we steamed past them the sailors in their uniforms of dazzling duck crowded to the side and cheered us lustily.

The arrival of a steamer is always an event of importance to these island dwellers, cut off from closer contact with the world. We had taken a pilot

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FIRST IMPRESSIONS.

75

on board outside the reef, and had learned from him that there had been no new developments in the political situation. We passed the quarantine, and, being able to show a clean bill of health, were not detained. All about us were boats filled with chattering Hawaiians, most of them barefooted, wearing blue cotton trousers, white cotton shirts, and straw hats. Around the latter invariably was a garland of yellow. coreopsis or tuberoses, called lei, which was made by stringing the blossoms in a solid wreath on a bit of cacao fibre. With the well-to-do the lei was a band of peacock feathers. Many wore these garlands around the throat as well.

As we approached the landing-stage crowds of dusky brown urchins, wearing only a thin cloth about the loins, swam out and dived for coins a custom that seems to prevail in all tropical islands. The water was nearly as transparent as the atmosphere, and their lithe, slender bodies could be seen at a great depth, almost as much at home as their familiar friends the fish that darted about them.

There was a charming, picturesque multitude on the covered dock: ladies beautifully dressed in summer muslins, with white, pink, and blue parasols, and pretty lace-trimmed hats; gentlemen also in white, even to their canvas shoes. They signalled gaily to friends on board, and were as gaily answered. The air was heavy with the fragrance of orange blossoms, tuberoses, and gardenias. What a trans