A quiet inlet on the coast of Samoa
A quiet inlet on the coast of Samoa
IN THE
TRACKS OF THE TRADES
THE ACCOUNT OF A FOURTEEN THOUSAND
MILE YACHTING CRUISE TO THE HAWAIIS,
MARQUESAS, SOCIETIES, SAMOAS AND FIJIS
BY
LEWIS R. FREEMAN
Author of "Many Fronts," "Stories of the Ships,"
"Sea-Hounds," "To Kiel in
the 'Hercules.'"
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
FROM PHOTOGRAPHS
BY THE AUTHOR
Book Image
NEW YORK
DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY
1920
Copyright, 1920,
By DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, Inc.
VAIL-BALLOU COMPANY
BINGHAMTON AND NEW YORK
TO
THE MEMORY OF
'THE COMMODORE'
THE LATE H. H. SINCLAIR
"THE TRACKS OF THE TRADES"
Take me back, take me back to the Tracks of the Trade!
Let me wander again in the coco palms' shade,
Where the drums of the ocean, in pulsating roar,
Beat time for the waltz of the waves on the shore;
Where sunlight and starlight and moonlight conspire
To speed the gay hours on the Wings of Desire;
Let me clamber again through the orchid-bright glade
Take me back, take me back to the Tracks of the Trade!
Oh, the hot flame of sunset, the tremulous light
When the afterglow fades to the velvet of night!
The star-stencilled headland in blank silhouette
Where the moonbeams are meshed in the flamboyant's net!
Oh, the purple of midnight, the grey mists of dawn,
And the amber flood after the darkness has gone!
The slow-heaving ocean of gold-spangled jade,
When the sun wakes the day in the Tracks of the Trade!
Let my heart thrill again as the tom-tom's dull boom
Floats out from the bush in the flower-fragrant gloom,
And the shriek of the conches, the hi-mi-ne's swell,
Brings word of the feast in the depths of the dell.
Lead my footsteps again to that forest crypt dim,
Where firelight throws shadows on bosom and limb
Of the billowing forms of the trim tropic maids,
When the song wakes the dance in the Tracks of the Trades!
Let my hands close again on the hard-kicking wheel,
As the schooner romps off on a rollicking reel,
To the humming of back-stay and sharp-slatting sail,
And the hiss of the comber that smothers the rail.
Oh, the cadenced lament of the chorusing shroud,
As the spindrift sweeps aft in a feathery cloud!
Oh, the storm-tumbled sea-ways traversed unafraid,
As the squalls spin the spume down the Tracks of the Trade!
Take me back, take me back to the Tracks of the Trade!
For 'tis weary I am of the city's parade,
Of the dust of the traffic, the grey cheerless skies,
And the long lines of people with spiritless eyes.
Take me back to my green sunny islands again,
Away from this treadmill of sorrow and pain,
Away from this tinsel and gilt masquerade
Let me live, let me die in the Tracks of the Trade!
L. R. F.
Pasadena,
July, 1920.
CHAPTER PAGE
San Pedro to Hilo and Honolulu
Honolulu to Taio-Haie
The Marquesas Today
Hunting in the Marquesas
The Passion Play at Uahuka
Taio-Haie to Papeete
Circling Tahiti
Society in the Societies
The Song and Dance in Tahiti
By the Absinthe Route
Papeete to Pago Pago
In Pago Pago Bay
Samoan Cricket: Fauga-Sa v. Pago Pago
A Visit to Apia
Kava and the Siva
Pago Pago to Suva
In Suva and Mbau
Sharks
His Wonders to Perform
Suva to Honolulu
Honolulu to San Pedro
ILLUSTRATIONS
Frontispiece
PAGE
"A hardened old offender who preferred white man to native
meat"
"Into it were thrown the bones of the victims after the feast
was over"
"Pontius Pilate has been played for twenty years by an old
chiefa quondam cannibal"
"Just in time to respond to his 'cue' in the John the Baptist
tableau"
"Hatiheu, the most sublime combination of mountain, vale and
sea that my eyes have ever rested on"
"A naval station at Pago Pago has placed the United States,
strategically, in the strongest position in western Polynesia"
"Chief Tufeli came over for the express purpose of buying
the yacht"
"Whirling and yelling like dervishes they made a circuit of the
ground"
"The London Missionary Society steamer, John Williams, lay
near us"
Fanua, who danced the swimming Siva by the light of the phosphorescent
waves
"Thakambau's great war canoe, over a hundred feet in length,
formerly launched over human bodies"
Interior of a Fijian house, showing how it is bound together
with coco fibre
IN THE TRACKS OF THE TRADES
CHAPTER I
SAN PEDRO TO HILO AND HONOLULU
The Weather Bureau, which for several weeks had been issuing bulletins of the "Possibly Showers" order, came out unequivocally with "Rain" on the morning of February 4th, and this, no less than the lead-coloured curtain that veiled the Sierra Madres and the windy shimmers in the tails of the clouds that went rushing across the zenith before the gushing east wind, made it plain that the elements, not to be outdone by our amiable friends, were getting together for a special demonstration on their own account in honour of Lurline's departure. The nature of this elemental diversion developed in good time.
Personal good-byes began at the Pasadena station and continued down through Los Angeles to the San Pedro quay. From there, out through the inner harbour, bon voyages became general, and from the engineer of the government dredge, who blew his whistle off with the force of his farewell toots, to the deck hand on a collier who, in lieu of a handkerchief, waved the shirt he was washing, everybody took a hand in the parting demonstration.
Rounding the jetty opposite Deadman's Island, Lurline was sighted lying a half mile to the westward in the backsweep of the outer bay. The crew stood at attention as the Commodore, with a score or more of friends who had come off for a final farewell, stepped aboard, immediately to turn to stowing the small mountain of hand luggage which had come off with the launch. Soon visitors began arriving from the other yachts of the South Coast fleet, and these, reinforced by several press representatives and a number of shore visitors from San Pedro, swelled the farewell party to a size that taxed the standing room capacity of quarter deck and cabin to the utmost.