A Voyage round the World / A book for boys

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“So I thought,” he answered. “But as a man cannot well live on fish and water-fowl without corn, and potatoes, and vegetables, not to speak of beef and mutton, and none of these things were to be procured within a hundred miles of the place, I was glad to get out of it. There’s another wonderful spot away to the south, near Sousa, where I have been. There is a stream called the Stanislas river. Up it I went, and then journeyed along one of its tributaries, the high banks of which are covered with trees, till I reached a broad valley. I could scarcely believe my eyes. There arose before me a number of trees larger and taller than any I supposed existed on the face of the globe. It is called the Mammoth-tree Valley, and is 1500 feet above the level of the sea. There were no less than ninety of them scattered over a space of about forty acres, and rising high above the surrounding pine forest. They are a species of pine or cone-bearing trees. (Coniferae (Wellingtonia gigantea.)) In the larger ones the branches do not begin to spread out till the stem has reached a height of 200 feet, and some are upwards of 300 feet high. One was 32 feet in diameter—that is, 96 feet in circumference—while the smallest and weakest is not less than 16 feet in diameter. The tops of nearly all have been broken off by storms, or by the snow resting on them. The Indians have injured others by lighting fires at their bases, while the white men have cut down one and carried away the bark of another to exhibit in far-off lands. It took five men twenty-five days to cut down the ‘Big tree,’ for so it was called. They accomplished their work by boring holes in the stem, and then cutting towards them with the axe. The stump which remains has been smoothed on the top, and the owner of the property, who acted as my guide, assured me that sixteen couple could waltz on it. In one a spiral staircase has been cut, so that I was able to ascend to a considerable height by it. My acquaintance, the owner of the estate on which these monsters grow, has given names to all of them. One he calls Uncle Tom’s Cabin, because there is a hollow in the trunk capable of holding from twenty to thirty people. One hollow trunk has been broken off and lies on the ground, and a man on horseback can ride from one end of it to the other. There are two trees called Husband and Wife, and another he called the Family Group, consisting of father, mother, and rather a large progeny of twenty-five children, regular sons of Anak. The father fell some time ago, and striking another tree broke off the upper part. That portion measures 300 feet, and the part which still stands 150—so that the whole tree was 450 feet in height. Three hundred feet is the ordinary height of the giants of the forest. From various calculations it would seem that these trees must have existed for three thousand years at least—perhaps more; I can only say that I considered the spectacle well worthy of the long journey I took to behold it.”

We thanked the stranger for the account he had given us. We heard many other wonderful stories, the truth of some of which we had reason to doubt, so I have not repeated them here. Captain Frankland was very glad to get away from San Francisco without losing any of his own crew. Probably, had he allowed them to have any communication with the shore, this would not have been the case.

On our return on board, the first mate told the captain that a strange brig had come into the harbour and anchored near us—that soon afterward Manuel Silva was seen holding some communication with the people on board. In a little time a boat came off from her, and after some conversation with a man in the boat, he said that he must bid us good-bye. No persuasions the mate used could induce him to stop, and he stepped into the boat, and nothing more had been seen of him. We were very sorry to lose him, and it struck us at the time, I remember, that there was something mysterious in his way of departure.

We were at sea about twenty-two days without falling in with land. It was late one evening when we sighted Woahoo, the largest of the Sandwich Islands, of which Honolulu is the chief port and capital of the kingdom. It was dark by the time we brought up in the roadstead outside the harbour. As I, of course, had read how Captain Cook was killed by the Sandwich Islanders, and had often seen prints in which a number of naked black fellows are hurling their spears and darts at him, I had an idea that I knew all about them, and had pictured to myself exactly what I should see when next morning we went on shore with our boat’s crew well-armed to trade with them. The next morning at daybreak the anchor was hove up, and with a light breeze we stood in through a narrow passage in a coral reef, which extends from one point of land to another, and forms the harbour. What was my surprise to see before us, when we dropped our anchor, a neat, pretty-looking town, with a fort on the right side bristling with cannon, a fertile valley extending far into the country on the left, and lofty mountains rising in the distance. Over the fort flew the Hawaian flag. It is formed of the British union-jack, with alternate blue, red, and white stripes. The streets are broad, and run at right angles to each other. There were numerous hotels, some of them really very handsome buildings on an extensive scale, and managed after the American fashion, while in the streets were a number of large and well-furnished shops. There are several churches and chapels of very respectable architectural pretensions. The Custom House is a handsome stone building near the fort, and the regulations as to duties are strictly observed. The chief place of business is in the centre of the town; and the most fashionable locality, where the residences of the leading people among the natives are situated, is a green sward skirted by the beach and shaded by lofty cocoa-nut and plantain trees. The European villas are generally further back—many of them very prettily built, and surrounded by gardens full of the most delicious fruit and flowers. Many of the foreign consuls and merchants live in villas a few miles up the country. Good wharves have been built, and ships of 700 tons can refit alongside them. Altogether Honolulu is a very wonderful place.

Jerry and I and the doctor, as usual, went on shore to see what was to be seen, and this time we were accompanied by Mr Brand. The ship was to remain in the harbour for several days, and we were very anxious to make a journey to some distance into the interior, that we might see the natives as they were away from the centre of civilisation. We had introductions here to several gentlemen, who promised to forward our views. We were amused with the extraordinary appearance of the natives in the streets—barbarism and civilisation met together. The former dress of the men was the taro, a kilt joined between the legs, so as to form a wide and very short pair of breeches. Some to this now add a blue shirt, sometimes with the tails tucked in, sometimes flowing gracefully. Some wear cast-off coats, or jackets, or trousers, of Europeans; but few of the common people have more than one of these garments on at a time, and still fewer ever encumber themselves with shoes and stockings. The women had on generally long blue chemises, or gowns and bonnets of every variety of colour and shape, and put on in all sorts of ways—some placing them hind part before; indeed, they had apparently exercised their ingenuity to make them as unbecoming as possible. Formerly, we were told, their head-dress was a wreath of flowers, which suited their dark skins, and had a very pretty effect. The chiefs, however, and their wives, were dressed in European costume, and the king in public wears the Windsor uniform. It is supposed that the inhabitants of the Sandwich Islands derive their origin from the Malays, and that at a very remote period a Malay junk, or fleet of junks, was cast on those shores. Their skins have the same dark hue, and their features the same form, as the Malays of the present day. It is said that this group is becoming rapidly depopulated. The people themselves have taken up the idea that their race is to become extinct, and seem willing to yield to their fate without a struggle. The diseases introduced by Europeans have tended to cause this, but they themselves have many pernicious customs. Among others, no sooner does a native feel himself attacked with fever than he rushes into the sea, or into the nearest cold stream, as he fancies, to cool himself. The result is that—the pores being closed instead of kept open and perspiration encouraged—death comes in a few hours. Among our friends here was Mr Callard, a missionary, who had resided in the island for some years. He has gone into a hamlet, and found not a person remaining alive. On one occasion he met an old man sitting at the door of a hut; he asked where the rest of the people were.

“All dead,” was the answer.

“Then do you come with me, and I will provide for your wants.”

“No,” said the native gloomily; “I will not move. I am preparing to follow them.”

The islands produce the paper mulberry, from which their cloths and cordage are made; the acacia, used in the construction of their canoes; the banana, the sugar-cane, the yam, the bread-fruit; and, the most important of all, the taro root. Of late years, coffee, cotton, rice, tobacco, indigo, melons, the vine, oranges, peaches, figs, tamarinds, guavas, and many other plants and fruits have been introduced. The natives pay the greatest attention to the cultivation of the taro root. It is planted in square patches, either in swamps or in ground easily irrigated, with banks and sluices, so that the water can be let on at pleasure. It takes eleven months to come to perfection. When dried, it is pounded on a smooth stone by means of another held in the hand, while a little water is poured on it, when it is reduced to a paste called poi, which is then fit to eat. Much labour and patience is required to bring it to perfection; and by the exercise of these qualities, there can be no doubt that the natives have acquired those habits of industry which are scarcely known among other savages. The only animals found in the island were dogs and pigs, undoubtedly brought there by their ancestors. The roots of the taro are from six inches to a foot in length, and three or four inches in diameter. In substance it is rather more fibrous than the potato. It is often eaten whole, like a potato. The skin is scraped off with a shell, and the taro, split into two or three pieces, is then placed on leaves in an oven containing stones, heated as usual, the whole being then covered up with earth to steam for half an hour.

Honolulu has become a great place of call for ships, from all parts of the world, since San Francisco sprang into existence. Vessels coming round the Horn, to make a good offing, steer for it. Others from Australia, China, and the Eastern Archipelago, touch here; while whalers have for long been in the habit of putting in here to refit and recruit. The extreme healthiness of the islands induces many people from California to come here, and the hotels and lodging-houses are filled with invalids, often possessors of considerable wealth; but, at the same time, from their profligate and dissipated habits, they set but a bad example to the natives. The natives are called Kanakas. They are generally fine-looking men. The women are fairer, and with regular features; many of them ride on horseback with men’s saddles, dressed in gay riding habits, and with a wreath of flowers encircling their raven tresses, which gives them somewhat of a theatrical appearance. The islands are governed by a sovereign, King Kamehameha the Third, who has a large family, and an income of about 1500 pounds a-year. He has likewise an army, clothed in gay uniforms, but there are almost as many officers as men; indeed, as the kingdom is under the joint protection of England, America, and France, there can be but little employment for soldiers. The police are of far more use in apprehending drunken sailors, and keeping order in the town. They are dressed in a blue uniform, with a gold-lace cap, and armed with a staff with a brass knob. The monarchy is hereditary, and limited. The king’s ministry consists of a premier and other officers, similar to those of the English Government, and many of them are English or Americans, and very intelligent men. We found that in the town there were all sorts of places of public amusement, and, among others, a theatre, where English plays are acted, and where the king constantly attends. We went, and were not a little surprised to see the boxes filled with very gaily-dressed people, mostly whites. It was a very hot night. The play was “Hamlet.” Hamlet had been using a pocket-handkerchief very liberally all the evening, pressing it to his brow and cheeks, and at last he said, “Oh, that this too, too solid flesh wouldn’t melt, and resolve itself into a dew!” Jerry and I applauded him very loudly. He gave us a wink, as much as to say, “I see you understand me.” He was evidently a wag, and Hamlet was not suited to him, nor he to Hamlet. There was no reason, however, because the royal Dane had been murdered, that his son should murder the Queen’s English at the rate he did, or the character of Hamlet as Shakspeare drew it. Who would have thought of Shakspeare in the Sandwich Islands? Shakspeare never acted in so pretty a theatre.