We glanced in at the market, and noticed the pretty custom that they have of wrapping up the provisions in fresh leaves to be carried away.
I was very anxious to taste the native dish of poi, and our driver said he would take us to a place where we could get some. He stopped at a backway leading into a narrow yard, opposite the Chinese quarter, and, leaving us, he returned in a few minutes asking us into his own house. There we found spread out on a clean cloth on the floor, a large bowl, full of a thick pink paste. His woman-folk stood round, and watched us delightedly as we plunged one finger into the bowl, and after a dexterous turn of the same, to disconnect the hanging fibres, conveyed it to our mouths. It seemed to me to have no particular taste. This poi is made from the root of the taro, which grows in large beds under water, and only requires boiling to be ready for eating. It is carried about the streets in calabashes, ready for sale, and is the great national dish, the chief support of the lower classes, who eat it with tiny raw fish, easily caught inside the reef.
Kava is another favourite native refreshment which it is customary to offer to all who cross the threshold, with, alas! but too often evil results, as it contains very intoxicating properties. It is made from the root of a shrub which grows to a height of from six to seven feet. After being cleaned it is well pounded, by the curious means of mastication, young girls with the whitest teeth being chosen to chew it to a fine pulp. It is thus prepared for eating, and tastes like a combination of weak tea with soap-suds.
Our two hours were over, and we returned to the wharf, where we found the native band playing, consisting of thirty men in white uniform, in honour of some musical guests who were coming away in the Australia. Many friends came down to see them off, and Herr Remini, the great Hungarian violinist, came on board, garlanded with wreaths of flowers. They played a sad plaintive native air, singing alternate verses, with "God save the Queen," as a compliment to the English, as we drew away from the wharf. The last notes died away as we crossed the reef and went out to the open sea.
Our last view of Honolulu was under the soft afternoon light, with the Punch Bowl towering above and enveloped in a thick cloud of mist, with a rainbow playing over the gentle darkness of the summit and spanning the intermediate valley.
After such an unusual excitement on board, it seemed a relief to have the ship to ourselves again, for the natives had crowded in whilst we were in harbour, and to go down immediately to dinner as usual.
Sunday, September 6th.—There was a parade of all the officers and crew on deck at 10 a.m., the sailors in their clean white suits, and the officers in blue frock coats; after which we had morning service, the captain reading the prayers, and the doctor the lessons.
We were able to see the Southern Cross for the first time, with the tail of the Great Bear above the horizon. The stars have been very beautiful on some of these still clear nights, but we have lost the moon that we had at first.
Thursday, September 12th.—A man in the steerage died yesterday afternoon of acute rheumatism, aggravated by the damp of the trade winds during the last few days. He suffered terribly.
I awoke with the tolling of the bell at seven this morning. The body, sewn up in canvas, and covered with a Union Jack, lay on the deck, and in the grey of the early dawn a reverend little crowd was collected round it; the captain, in the centre, reading the service, and the officers and a few of the passengers standing round. At the words, "We therefore commit his body to the deep," the sailors, in their white Sunday suits, lifted the heavily-weighted plank on which the body lay, and it slid over the side of the ship, falling with a dull thud and splash into the waters.