Saturday is a holiday with all hands in Lahaina. Every body and their wives procure horses on that day, great numbers of which are found here, and pass the whole day in horseback riding. Go where you will, in whatever street you like, you will see a gay cavalcade of equestrians approaching, male and female. The latter dress in the gayest of gay calico, the “yaller” being the predominant color, and, seating themselves astride a horse in the same manner as the men, with six or eight feet of the calico swinging on each side, galloping through the streets, they present a rather novel appearance.
The Hawaiians appear to have queer ideas of justice. What is crime when committed by a foreigner, can be done with impunity by a native. For instance: a native is allowed to gallop through the streets at the highest rate of speed to which he can urge his horse, while a foreigner must content himself with riding on a slow walk, except in the outskirts of town. We were witness to an occurrence of this kind one day. An officer belonging to one of the ships in port was mounted upon a fractious horse, and, while passing near the grand square, the animal became frightened, and commenced his antics, endeavoring to run. It was with difficulty that the rider was enabled to retain his seat; and several kikos, perceiving what was the matter, ran and caught the horse by the bridle, and ordered the officer to dismount, telling him he had broken the laws against fast riding, and must go to jail or calaboose. This he refused to do, but offered to give bail for his appearance before the police magistrate the next morning to answer to the charge. This was accordingly done; and on the trial the following morning, he was fined. Not a day passed while we were on shore that we did not see natives riding at a high rate of speed through the principal streets of Lahaina.
On Sunday morning, October 16th, the packet, with the mail from Honolulu, arrived. We hastened on shore, and were met by the captain, who reached forth a letter—the first in four years—which was immediately recognized by the superscription. It is useless to attempt describing our feelings. They who have been “in like circumstances” can understand them—no others can. As the boat was passing from shore to ship, thousands of thoughts rushed through our mind, coming one upon another like a hurricane. Break the seal there and then we durst not. No; we would wait till we got in some quiet corner on board, and there, undisturbed by any thing, first learn the good or bad news. We felt that during the long interval of four years many changes must necessarily have taken place; perhaps some of those we most loved had been taken away, and we would never more behold their face this side heaven. But we remembered that all things were in the hands of a good and wise God, and in Him we could trust. Arriving on board, we hastened to a quiet nook, and there, with trembling hand, broke the seal. What was our happiness to read “all are well,” and that the rover was not forgotten, but that prayers daily ascended to a Throne of Grace that he might be returned in safety to his home. We read and reread the precious words, and our heart went out in thanksgiving to that Almighty Power who had thus far brought us on our dangerous voyage. In the afternoon we attended Bethel, but fear that the sermon did not profit us much, as our thoughts would wander, in spite of us, to that home “far over the deep blue sea.”
The productions of these islands are similar to those of most tropical climes. Grapes are raised in great abundance and of a superior flavor. The wine made from them is said to be excellent, especially for medicinal purposes, in comparison with other wines. Melons of all descriptions are raised here in great abundance, and are not equaled, we think, by any raised on Yankee soil. The attention of the more enterprising natives and half-breeds has of late been turned to the cultivation of sugar and cotton, and we predict the time to be not far distant when they will be the staple productions of the islands.
While at Lahaina we formed the acquaintance of Captain M‘Culloch, then master of the clipper whaler “Niagara,” of Fairhaven. He related to us an incident in which he figured somewhat conspicuously, and we take the liberty of giving it here for the benefit of the reader. It will serve to show that the whaleman has dangers with which to contend aside from those connected with killing the monster of the deep.
While the “Sharon,” of New Bedford, Captain Morris, was cruising near the King Mill Group, whales were raised, and the boats sent in pursuit. Captain M., two Kanakas, and a boy remained on board. For some time after the boats left the captain remained at masthead, watching the boats and whales. The boy then went to masthead, leaving the two natives on deck, and soon after the captain came down. He was immediately attacked by the natives, murdered, and his body cut in small pieces, and thrown to the hogs. On seeing this, the boy immediately went to work and cut all the running rigging, thereby disabling the ship, and preventing her from being run ashore, as the natives wished to do, being near to land. Those in the boats, seeing the condition of things, and rightly judging something to be wrong, immediately gave up the chase and returned. When within hailing distance, the natives cried out to them that, if they came on board, they were dead men, at the same time holding up to their view portions of the captain’s dead body. The boats retired a short distance to consult as to the best manner of retaking the ship. Mr. M‘C., at that time third officer of the vessel, offered to board her if six men would volunteer to accompany him; but, among twenty-four, none appeared willing to make the attempt. In justice to them, however, it is proper to state that it was more a want of presence of mind than of bravery that deterred them. He persuaded, advised, coaxed, and threatened, but all to no purpose. He then offered to go if one could be found willing to accompany him, but a panic appeared to have seized hold upon them, and not one would venture. Knowing that something must be done, and that speedily, he said, “It was as well to die on board the ship, fighting in her defense, as to fall into the hands of the natives on shore, and be butchered by them.” Divesting himself of his clothing, he took a large boat-knife, and, as it was nearly dark, plunged overboard, and cautiously swam for the stern of the vessel. This he reached undiscovered. Fortunately, a rope was towing over the stern, which he seized, and by almost superhuman efforts, succeeded in swinging himself into the cabin windows. Groping about, he found a pair of heavy horse-pistols, and, while examining one of them, accidentally dropped it. The natives heard the noise, and rushed into the cabin. Mr. M‘C. knocked the foremost one down with the remaining pistol; the other being armed with a cutlass, a fierce and savage fight ensued in the dark. It ended in the Kanaka being slain, Mr. M‘C. receiving a severe wound in the thigh. After having securely bound the one stunned by the blow from the pistol, he went on deck, and made signals for the boats to come alongside. It was some time, however, before they ventured to do so, as they thought that Mr. M‘C. was murdered, and the natives were endeavoring to allure them to a similar fate; but on hearing his well-known voice they immediately came on board. All sail was now made upon the ship, and she was soon clear of the land. The prisoner was handed over to the authorities of the next port they visited, tried, and executed for piracy on the high seas.
We accidentally learned that a fellow-townsman was lying sick at the hospital, and hastened to visit him. On arriving, we inquired for him, and were led to his bedside. It proved to be a Mr. Stoddard, who had, like ourself, been trying life in a whaler. He went one season in the “Arctic,” and, on his return to Lahaina, finding his health completely shattered, procured his discharge, and was placed in the hospital, there to die, away from home and friends. We found his case to be one demanding great sympathy. For one year had he been there with that deceitful disease, consumption. During this time he had heard no word from the loved ones at home, nor met with any one from that locality. How eagerly did he grasp our hands, and, although we had never been acquainted with each other at home, yet we felt like brothers. He said this meeting was to him the brightest spot of his life; that never before had he so longed to see any one from home as while he had been in the hospital. He was very pale and thin, and fast wasting away, yet very patient and resigned. Trusting in the blessed Jesus for a home beyond the grave, where shall be “no more sorrow, sickness, or death,” he cheerfully submitted to his sufferings, believing they would “work out for him a far more exceeding weight of glory.” He spoke of his physician, Dr. Dow, in terms of the highest praise; also of the Rev. Mr. Bishop—of the words of comfort and consolation he had poured into his wretched and distracted heart—of the feeling and beautiful manner in which he had pointed him to the “Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world”—of his daily visits, always bringing consolation. Handing us a Bible, well worn, he said, “Take this book, and give it to my parents. Tell them that, although I shall never more see them on earth, yet I trust and pray that I may meet them in heaven. Tell them I die firm in the Christian faith; that I have gone to Jesus with my sins, and he has taken them all from me, and blessed me; that my whole trust is in Him; that my peace is made with God, and I long to be released from this world of sin and death to dwell with Jesus evermore.” His voice appeared to fail him; and, as we extended to him our hand, with tearful eyes, we felt that we were clasping his for the last time. As we turned to depart, our ears caught these words issuing from his lips:
“How sweet the name of Jesus sounds
In a believer’s ear.”
We bade him farewell, and returned to the ship with a sad and heavy heart. We felt to thank God that we were yet in health and strength, and to ask Him to return us to our friends at home safely. On reaching the hospital the following morning, we found that Stoddard had peacefully departed during the preceding night. He “fell sweetly asleep in Jesus.”