The Tongan ladies were celebrated for their beauty, and we were told that when the Duke of Edinburgh, as Prince Alfred, visited Australia and some places in the Pacific, Tonga was much disappointed because he failed to land on its shores. The inhabitants, however, found balm for their wounded feelings in two explanations offered: first, Queen Victoria was so impressed by the importance of the group that had she sent a representative it must have been her eldest, not her second son; secondly, she had heard so much of the charms of the ladies that she feared lest the Prince should bring back a dusky daughter-in-law if exposed to their wiles. One only wonders why they thought that she should object. The King was a fine old man, and we had no reason to believe that a rather weak-looking missionary gave any serious misconstruction of our conventional remarks. They dealt a good deal with our Queen, and at all events he introduced her name at the right place!
We had a very pretty drive in a vividly green lane, had tea at the hotel, and returned to sleep on board. The real joy, however, was our departure at sunrise next morning. Never before or since have I seen such a glory of colour—St. John may have witnessed something like it when he wrote the Revelation, but I cannot believe that earth contains a rival.
The sun struck the coral reefs through an absolutely calm sea, and its beams were broken up into streams and rivers of crimson, blue, green, and purple, as if a rainbow or the tail of an angelic peacock or bird of paradise had fallen into the ocean; nor did the rivers remain unchanged. At one moment a flood of crimson passed by, and if we ran to the other side of the ship, we found that the waters were turning to emerald; they parted and mingled and parted again till we seemed in a fairy world of magic.
We spent much time in the lagoons of Samoa and saw beautiful hues, particularly deep purples, there, but never again the extraordinary beauty of the Tongan archipelago. Behind the ever-changing sea rose a myriad islands crowned with palms and floating in light. My brother asked me if I remembered the little picture in our old Ballantyne’s Coral Island of schoolroom days. I had already thought of it, and gratefully felt that at least one dream of childhood had been fulfilled, that I had seen something of what our books had told, though not as the sailor which I had sighed to be.
King George died in the spring after we had made his acquaintance. A prominent resident whom we had met at Nukualofa, Mr. Parker, wrote to describe the honours paid to his memory. He said that he had been for so many years “a leading character for good and bad that his sudden, but on account of his age not unexpected, death caused much commotion.”
“However much some of his subjects may have disliked him (or rather his régime) when alive, and with much reason there were many, now that he is dead the respect they show is very striking. The place both day and night is as silent as death, though there is plenty of movement.” On a low white wall surrounding the premises, “at intervals of about one foot there is a lamp placed on the top; and at every few yards of the road a camp of people squat down with torches, and patiently wait for daylight as a sign of respect, and also in all probability to keep evil spirits away, though if asked the watchers would not say so.”
The house itself was brilliantly illuminated with hundreds of coloured lamps and paper lanthorns, and within, mats, flowers, and sandal-wood powder were lavished on the dead monarch. Meantime I must return to our voyage.
ARRIVAL AT APIA
We landed at Apia, the capital of Samoa, on August 13th, by Sydney calendar. (Samoan was different, as we had crossed 180° longitude, but this is unimportant.) We were met by our kindest of hosts, Mr. Bazett Michael Haggard, with the boat of the British Commission rowed by a fine crew of natives in white shirts and red lava-lavas or kilts. These, like other Samoan men, were tattooed from the waist to the knee rather as if they wore tight breeches under their kilts. We were taken to Haggard’s quarters, a two-storied house called Ruge’s Buildings, embowered in trees, containing a fine long reception room upstairs, with bedrooms off it for my daughter, myself, and my maid. Below were the servants’ quarters, the staff being a very intelligent Indian and two Samoan boys; behind was a courtyard with rooms beyond for Mr. Haggard and my brother. The whole had been the property of a commercial company. Mr. Haggard in his anxiety for our safety used to lock us women in at night, but I do not know what danger he apprehended.
Ruge’s Buildings were situated on the principal road of Apia, not far from the harbour which was the scene of the famous hurricane in which the English ship Calliope outrode the storm and escaped, while the German Adler was wrecked against the reefs. Her mast still rose above her shattered remains, marking the spot where she lay.