The naval reservation, with its dock, coal pile, ice plant and warehouses, occupies the only extensive piece of level land on the bay. Above, on a jutting promontory which commands the entrance and every foot of the harbour line, is the residence of the commander of the station and the governor of the island, occupied at the time of our visit by Captain E. B. Underwood, U.S.N. At the end of the bay, half submerged in a forest of coconuts, bread-fruit, bananas and mangoes, is the Samoan village of Pago Pago, the most important native settlement on the island. Several other small villages form breaks in the solid colour of the verdant rondure with occasional isolated circular roofs of brown thatch dotting the grey ribbon of the trail which binds them together.

Ever a splendid physical specimen and ever possessed of the kindliest and happiest of dispositions, the Samoan has undergone less change in his contact with the white man than any other native of the South Pacific. This is particularly true of those of Tutuila, for the mailed fist of the German War Lord had rested heavily on Upolou and Savaii for over a decade at the time of our visit, and one detected traces of sullenness and discontent among their peoples which he would search for in vain among the care-free natives of the American island. In many ways, in fact, Tutuila is deserving of being called a model tropical colony. The government, except for a gently exercised judicial supervision, is practically autonomous, and the natives, left to the enjoyment of the customs and institutions of their fathers, have retained a self-respect, dignity and amiability without parallel in any of the other island groups of Polynesia. The American protectorate over Tutuila is proving a happy medium between the paternalism of the British and the repressiveness of the Germans and French, the result being an island where intercourse with the natives is unmixedly edifying and pleasant.

The Samoan islands are rightly called the Navigator Group, for both in their achievements of the past along that line, as well as in the seamanship they display today, their natives are in a class by themselves. The superiority of line of a Samoan "out-rigger" canoe over that of those of any other South Pacific group is apparent to the veriest novice, as is also the ability with which it is handled. The following description of a Samoan "out-rigger," which was written by an expert, will convey to the initiated an idea of the technical construction of this remarkable little craft.

"A naval station at Pago Pago has placed the United States, strategically,
in the strongest position in western Polynesia"

"Chief Tufeli in the uniform of a sergeant of Fita-fitas"

"Although the Samoan canoe is a 'dugout,' it is far from being the clumsy affair that the name indicates. Though the hull is indeed dug out of a single log, it is none the less moulded along lines of grace as well as utility. The hull is well sheered and tapered toward the slightly elevated prow, perpendicular and bladelike in its thinness. It is moulded with reference to fluid resistance and cut so as to minimize the drag of the water, and yet gain every advantage from a following sea. They do not spread or widen the hull amidships, even in the very small canoes, nor, on the other hand, are the lines of the out-rigger (left) side at all flattened; the hulls are all symmetrical with respect to the longitudinal axis."

One used to handling a Peterboro will find a Samoan canoe very cranky at first, owing to the fact that the outrigger causes a drag which must be overcome by dipping first on one side and then on the other. The size of the canoe is limited only by the size of the trunk from which it is hewn. Occasionally one is seen carrying seven or eight adults, but the capacity of the ordinary canoe is not over two or three.

In the old days the Samoans, like all the other South Sea islanders, made their long voyages in big double canoes or catamarans driven by huge sails of matting. This type, though still common in Fiji, has practically disappeared from Samoa, its place being taken by the malaga, a modified whaleboat. This stoutly-built double-ender is generally acknowledged to be the most seaworthy type of open boat known, and instances are on record of its having ridden out storms in which sailing vessels, and even steamers, came to grief. The Samoan started with the orthodox whaleboat and kept building larger and larger until the limit of practical construction was reached. In fact, construction went somewhat beyond the limit of practicability, for a huge malaga built ten years ago in Apia—a veritable Roman galley of an affair, with seats for a hundred rowers—broke its back on its trial trip. Nothing of so colossal proportions has been tried since, though fifty-oar malagas are occasionally seen conveying all of the able-bodied males of a village off to a cricket match.