About a half a mile outside of Waikaiea River is a small island a mile in circumference, called Cocoanut Island. On this island is a family of native fishermen who still cling to the old way of fishing with spears, instead of hook and line, and they never employ the large nets used by the oriental fishermen. Instead, they use a small hand net, so that they can catch the particular kind of fish they want. They will not eat an ordinary fish, but they have their favourite variety, which are hard to catch.

Fish are so plentiful here that a child can catch as many as it wants. Even a Kanaka child would eat only certain kinds, but to the Snark's crew they all tasted alike; and we ate whatever we could catch—even shark, and the tentacles of the octopus.

On one side of Cocoanut Island is a large sandy beach that is fine for surf bathing. On the other side, the large lava rocks go almost straight down, making a fine place for diving. Nearly every afternoon I would go over to the island for a swim, and usually had the whole beach to myself, except Sundays, when the island was crowded with bathers. One day, on going to my favourite lava rocks, off which the diving was fine, I found the place occupied by a person whom I had never seen before. I was so surprised that I could only stand and stare. She was a full-blooded Hawaiian girl, and from what I could see of her she p113 was good-looking, too. Of course, I could not let a chance like this go to waste, so I made several photographs of her, and when I asked her to stand I was more than sure she was good-looking. She did not like to stand with the sun shining in her eyes, so we hunted a shady spot, and I used up the rest of the film in my camera.

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But it must not be supposed for a minute that the native girls are the only good-looking girls in Hilo. Some of the Japanese girls with whom I had a photographing acquaintance were as chic as are to be found any place. One in particular, who was head saleslady for the Hilo Drug Company, was not at all bad-looking. To see these little Japanese girls gliding through the streets—gliding, for their walk is such a funny little trot that that is the only word to describe it—I say, to see them gliding along makes a man ashamed of his own uncouthness when he chances to meet one of them, and must, for manners' sake, walk up the street with her. One girl I knew was born in Hilo, but her parents would not let her wear clothes of American fashion, so she looked like any native Japanese, but spoke excellent English. American clothes usually spoil the looks of a Japanese, for the Jap form will not take to our garb at all.

These Jap girls do not at first sight seem to be extravagantly dressed, but for Sunday-and evening-wear, a Japanese girl's dress will oftentimes cost double the sum the clothes of a stylish American girl cost. At p114 least, this is what the new cabin-boy we got in Hilo, a Jap named Nakata, told me, and I suppose he ought to know.

In the mountains are herds of wild cattle; and near Hilo are large ranches, where the best cattle country in the world is found. Here, too, will be seen the only genuine American cowboy. The cowboys we have in the States are for exhibition purposes only. But here the big open valleys and mountains, where the cattle breed, are so extensive that when the cattle are rounded up only an expert cowboy would be able to manage them, for by that time they are nearly as skittish as the wild cattle. With every round-up, the men say they catch many wild cattle which have attached themselves to the ranchman's herd.

Gene and I made long excursions with the launch up the little creeks and rivers, and always returned with a load of fruit. Mr. and Mrs. London were staying with friends in Hilo. The sailor had been discharged, so that Captain Y——, Gene and I were the only ones aboard the Snark. We ate at a Chinese restaurant, and as there was little work to do, we found ample time for exploring. Gene wore only sleeveless track-shirts and swimming trunks, and became so sunburned that wherever exposed, his skin was of almost Ethiopian blackness, in strange contrast with the protected skin. During this time I became as black as Gene, but I seemed to tan all over. Jack did not tan at all; p115 every time he became exposed to the sun he blistered so badly that often it would lay him up in bed.