Then, arms-around, we two paced back across the grass, and stood for a moment on the edge of our bewitching garden, looking at the slender sliver of a new moon of good omen dipping low above the shadowy hills.
Waikiki, June 25.
Once more in the tent-cottage at Waikiki, as the hub for many spokes of exploration in the Islands. I mistrust we shall never again pursue the idyllic life of the peninsula. Unfortunately, no way has been devised to live in two or more places simultaneously—except in the imagination, and that we can richly do. Artemus Ward is responsible for the delicious paradox: “No man can be in two places at once unless he is a bird.”
Many jaunts are in prospect: an automobile journey around Oahu; a yacht race girdling the same island, on which “Wahine Kapu,” no woman, is writ large upon the visages of the yachtsmen; a torchlight fishing expedition fifty miles distant with Prince Cupid, under the same no-petticoat mandate; a wonderful trip to Maui, to camp through the greatest extinct crater in the world, Haleakala, said to surpass Ætna in extent and elevation; and Jack has been deftly pulling wires to bring about a visit for us both to the famous Leper Settlement on Molokai, which is said to occupy one of the most beautiful sites in the Islands. Lucius E. Pinkham, president of the Board of Health, has been our guest to dinner, and not only has he put no obstacles in our way, but appears anxious for us to see Molokai. There has been considerable misrepresentation of the Settlement, and he evidently believes that Jack will paint a just picture. Mr. Pinkham seems to have the welfare of the lepers close at heart; and I have heard that when he fails to obtain from the Government certain appropriations for improvements, he draws on his own funds.
Thus, the air is brimful of glamour and interest, which helps to offset a tender regret for the lovely Lochs and for our neighbors who have been so lavish in neighborliness. One night before we departed, the Hookano young folk arranged a crabbing party, and sang the hours away under the light of a half-moon; another time, at sunset, we fished off the lee shore of the peninsula, where we landed a mess of “colored fish” like a flock of wet butterflies.
Here at the Beach life is so gay there is hardly chance to sleep and work, what with arrivals of transports and the ensuing frivolities in the hotel lanai, varied by swimming and surf-boarding under sun and moon. One fine day we essayed to ride the breakers in a Canadian canoe, and capsized in a wild smoker exactly as we had been warned. I stayed under water such a time that Jack, alarmed, came hunting for me; but I was safe beneath the overturned canoe, which I was holding from bumping my head. He was so relieved to find me unhurt and capable of staying submerged so long that promptly he read me a lecture upon swimming as fast as possible from a capsized boat, to avoid being struck in event of succeeding rollers flinging it about.
One night we attended a moonlight swimming party at a seaside home and became acquainted with more of the white Islands’ kamaainas. A lovely custom prevails here among the owners, who, in absences abroad, allow friends the use of their suburban places for occasions of this kind. Across the hedges we peeped into the next garden where, in the smother of scented foliage, there still lurks the house Robert Louis Stevenson once occupied.
After a military dance at the hotel last evening, tables were carried out on the lawn to the sands-edge, where supper was served by silent, swift Japanese in white. It was like a dream, there among the trees hung with soft rosy lights, our eyes sweeping the horizon touched by a low gold disk of moon, and on across the effervescing foam of an ebbing tide at our feet, and the white sea horses charging the crescent beach, to Diamond Head purple black against the star-dusted southern sky. “Do you know where you are?” And there was but one answer to Jack’s whisper—“Just Waikiki,” which tells it all. The charm of Waikiki—it is the charm of Hawaii Nei, “All Hawaii.”
June 28.
To Mr. Ford we owe a new debt of gratitude. And so does Hawaii, for such another promoter never existed. All he does is for Hawaii, desiring nothing for himself except the pleasure of sharing the attractions of his adopted land. The past two days have been spent encircling Oahu, or partly so, since only the railroad continues around the entire shore-line, the automobile drive cutting across a tableland midway of the island. Oahu comprises an area of 598 square miles, is trapezoidal in shape, its coast the most regular of any in the group. Another notable feature is that it possesses two distinct mountain chains, Koolau and Waianae, whereas the other islands have isolated peaks and no distinct ranges. Waianae is much the older of the two. The geology of this volcanic isle is a continual temptation to diverge.