Once more it was Saturday, the gala-day of the Hawaiians, when we bade adieu a second time to Honolulu; and the tableau which then fixed itself upon the mind will long remain. The brief stay had been full of interest and enjoyment; it was, indeed, only too brief.
Our good ship the "Alamada" got up steam in the early morning and was under way by nine o'clock, steering through the coral reef seaward. The king graciously sent his military band to play for us some parting airs, while a thousand spectators consisting of mingled races and equally of both sexes, gorgeously wreathed in flowers, thronged the capacious pier. It was high tide, so that the "Alamada" loomed up high above the heads of the motley assembly. In the middle foreground lay the tropical city enshrined in palms, cocoas, and flower-bedecked trees, beyond which the picturesque valley of Nuuanu formed a long perspective reaching into the volcanic hills. To the right and left the mountain range extended for miles, forming a series of valleys, gulches, and abrupt precipices, with here and there a plateau of table-land, all clothed in exquisite verdure. The shore was dotted by native huts, cocoanut-groves, and banana-orchards, adding infinite variety to the whole scene.
We had taken on board as passengers some native residents, whose friends had come to bid them good-by with all the earnest demonstrations of a tropical race. Amid the waving of handkerchiefs and the reiterated farewells came the hoarse command from the bridge to cast off the shore lines. Then the grand old flag—the Stars and Stripes—was run up at the peak, and the waiting band played "Hail Columbia," followed by "Home, Sweet Home," responded to by many moistened eyes and quickened pulsations of the heart. As we glided away our forecastle gun barked forth a sharp, ringing farewell which was echoed back a score of times by the mountain gorges.
CHAPTER III.
The Samoan Islands.—A Unique Race of Savages.—Diving for Money.—A Genuine Samoan Mermaid.—German Aggressiveness.—A South-Sea Nunnery.—A Terrible Disease.—Christianity vs. Paganism.—Under the Southern Cross.—Grandeur of the Heavens at Sea.—Landing at Auckland.—A Stormy Ocean.—The Famous Harbor of Sydney.—England and her Australian Colony.—The Modern Eldorado.—Early Settlers.
In our course southward we made the islands known as the Samoan, or Navigator's group, and stopped to land the American and European mails at Tutuila, which is about two thousand three hundred miles from Honolulu. The six islands which form this group of the South Pacific lie between the Society and Feejee groups, three of them being among the largest in Polynesia. Their names are Savaii, Upolu, Tutuila, Manua, Manono, and Apolima. Savaii has a circumference of a hundred and forty miles, and is literally covered with forests of tropical trees from shore to mountain-top. Upolu measures nearly fifty miles from east to west, and is the most fertile and populous of the group. Apolima is the most remarkable for its cones and craters, giving unmistakable evidence of former volcanic action, by clearly-defined vents and fire-shafts among its hills. There are few rivers on these islands, but Upolu and Savaii have several crystal lakes among their mountains. Gales, cyclones, and earthquakes occur quite often enough to vary the monotony. We have said that there are six of these islands; there are also others, scarcely more than islets, however. The highest land in the group is on Savaii,—a lofty peak in the middle of the island, the top of which is nearly always hidden in clouds.
Tutuila was the island which was first sighted, and as it lay sleeping upon the bosom of the southern ocean it presented a beautiful picture of tropical verdure,—an oasis in the great desert of waters. And yet it did not present a very inviting aspect by its wave-lashed and rock-bound shore. It was calm weather,—that is, comparatively so; but there is always a long swell in these latitudes, which when it meets the impediment of shore or reefs is sure to express its anger by a wild display of force.
The island is remarkably mountainous, but the foliage rose to its lofty sky-line, and came down to where the breakers chafed the coast with tremendous fury. There was the azure of the sky, the deep green of the vegetation, the light blue-green of the shoal water, and the snow-white spray tossed high in air, to vary the richness of the coloring, which was finer than that of Oahu. We were told of a safe landing-place in a sheltered cove, and made out the slender spire of a wooden church, but could not see any opening in the long line of dashing spray which leaped twenty feet high as each successive swell broke upon the rocks. Just behind them the palm-groves, bananas, and cocoanut-trees formed a dense breastwork, flanked here and there by low native huts, grass-thatched and brown. In no other region does the cocoanut-tree thrive in greater luxuriance and fruitfulness than here; and were it not that the natives are so lacking in enterprise, this product alone might be made a very large source of profit. The deep green foliage of the bread-fruit all along the shore indicated the abundance of this natural food-supply of the islanders. Together with the yam and taro it forms their main support. The last named is called the daily bread of the Samoans, just as the poi forms the main sustenance of the Hawaiians.