Altogether, it seems a wonderful thing that so much should have been
done within so short a time towards opening up the resources of this
great country. And most wonderful of all, that the people of a small
island like Britain, situated at the very opposite side of the globe,
some sixteen thousand miles off, should have come hither, and within
so short a time have built up such cities as Sydney and
Melbourne,--planted so large an extent of territory with towns, and
villages, and farmsteads--covered its pastures with cattle and
sheep--opened up its mines--provided it with roads, railroads, and
telegraphs, and thereby laid the firm foundations of a great future
empire in the south. Surely these are things of which England, amidst
all her grumblings, has some reason to be proud!

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 14: The Honourable Thomas Holt, on whose property the
landing-place is situated, last year erected an obelisk on the spot,
with the inscription "Captain Cook landed here 28th April, A.D. 1770,"
with the following extract from Captain Cook's Journal: "At day-break
we discovered a bay, and anchored under the south shore, about two
miles within the entrance, in six fathom water, the south point
bearing S.E., and the north point east. Latitude 43В° S., Longitude
208В° 37' W."]

[Illustration: AUCKLAND, NEW ZEALAND.]




CHAPTER XIX.

TO AUCKLAND, IN NEW ZEALAND.

LEAVING SYDNEY--ANCHOR WITHIN THE HEADS--TAKE IN MAILS AND PASSENGERS
FROM THE 'CITY OF ADELAIDE'--OUT TO SEA AGAIN--SIGHT NEW
ZEALAND--ENTRANCE TO AUCKLAND HARBOUR--THE 'GALATEA'--DESCRIPTION OF
AUCKLAND--FOUNDING OF AUCKLAND DUE TO A JOB--MAORI MEN AND
WOMEN--DRIVE TO ONEHUNGA--SPLENDID VIEW--AUCKLAND GALA--NEW ZEALAND
DELAYS--LEAVE FOR HONOLULU.


On the last day of December, 1870, I set out for Honolulu, in the
Sandwich Islands, embarking as second-class passenger on board the
'City of Melbourne.' Our first destination was Auckland, in New
Zealand, where we were to stop for a few days to take in passengers
and mails.

I had been so fortunate as accidentally to encounter a friend, whom I
knew in Maryborough, in the streets of Sydney. He was out upon his
summer holiday, and when he understood that I was bound for New
Zealand, he determined to accompany me, and I had, therefore, the
pleasure of his society during the earlier part of my voyage.

As we steamed down the harbour I had another opportunity of admiring
the beautiful little bays, and sandy coves, and wooded islets of Port
Jackson. The city, with its shipping, and towers, and spires,
gradually receded in the distance, and as we rounded a headland Sydney
was finally shut out from further view.

We were soon close to the abrupt headlands which guard the entrance to
the bay, and letting drop our anchor just inside the southern head, we
lay safely sheltered from the gale which began to blow from the east.
There we waited the arrival of the 'City of Adelaide' round from
Melbourne, with the last mails and passengers for England by the
California route.

But it was some time before the 'Adelaide' made her appearance. Early
next morning, hearing that she was alongside, I hurried on deck. The
mails were speedily brought off from the inward-bound ship, together
with seven more passengers. Our anchor was at once weighed, and in ten
more minutes we are off. We are soon at the entrance to the Heads; and
I see by the scud of the clouds, and the long line of foaming breakers
driving across the entrance, that before long we shall have the spray
flying over our hurricane deck. Another minute and we are outside,
plunging into the waves and throwing the water in foam from our bows.

I remain upon deck, holding on as long as I can. Turning back, I see a
fine little schooner coming out of the Heads behind us, under a good
press of sail. On she came, dipping her bows right under the water,
but buoyant as a cork. Her men were aloft reefing a sail, her yards
seeming almost to touch the water as she leaned over to leeward.
Passing under our stern, she changed her course, and the plucky little
schooner held up along the coast, making for one of the northern
ports.

Taking a last look at the Sydney Heads, I left the further navigation
of the ship in the hands of the captain, and retired below. I was too
much occupied by private affairs to see much more of the sea during
the next twenty-four hours. New Year's Day though it was, there was
very little jollity on board; indeed, as regarded the greater number
of the passengers, it was spent rather sadly.

The weather, however, gradually moderated, until, on the third day of
our voyage, it became fine, such wind as there was being well aft. On
the fifth day, the wind had gone quite down, and there only remained
the long low roll of the Pacific; but the ship rolled so heavily that
I suspect there must have been a very strong under-current somewhere
about. Early in the forenoon we sighted the "Three Kings' Island," off
the extreme north coast of New Zealand. At first they seemed to
consist of three detached rocks; but as we neared them, they were
seen to be a number of small rocky islands, with very little
vegetation on them. The mainland shortly came in sight, though it was
still too distant to enable us to recognise its features.

Early next morning, we found ourselves steaming close in shore past
Cape Brett, near the entrance to the Bay of Islands. The high cliffs
along the coast are bold and grand; here and there a waterfall is
seen, and occasionally an opening valley, showing the green woods
beyond. In the distance are numerous conical hills, showing the
originally volcanic character of the country. During the forenoon we
passed a huge rock that in the distance had the appearance of being a
large ship in full sail; hence its name of the "Sail Rock."

The entrance to the harbour of Auckland, though by no means equal to
Port Jackson, is yet highly picturesque. On one side is the city of
Auckland, lying in a hollow, and extending up the steep hills on
either side; while opposite to it, on the north shore of the Frith of
Thames, is a large round hill, used as a pilot signal station.
Situated underneath it are many nice little villas, with gardens close
to the sea. The view extends up the inlets, which widens out and
terminates in a background of high blue mountains. From Auckland, as
from Sydney, the open sea is not to be seen--there are so many
windings in and out before the harbour is reached.

A fine Queen's ship was lying at anchor in the bay, which, on inquiry,
we found to be the 'Galatea,' commanded by the Duke of Edinburgh. The
'Clio' also was anchored not far off. We were soon alongside the long
wooden pier, to which were also moored several fine clipper ships, and
made our way into the town. As the principal street continued straight
in from the pier, we were shortly enabled to see all the principal
buildings of the place.

Though a small shipping town, there seems to be a considerable amount
of business doing at Auckland. There is a good market-place, some
creditable bank buildings, and some three or four fine shops, but the
streets are dirty and ill-paved. The Supreme Court and the Post
Office--both fine buildings--lie off the principal street. The
Governor's house, which occupies a hill to the right, commands a fine
view of the bay, as well as of the lovely green valley behind it.

Auckland, like Sydney, being for the most part built upon high land,
is divided by ravines, which open out towards the sea in little coves
or bays--such as Mechanics' Bay, Commercial Bay, and Official Bay. The
buildings in Mechanics' Bay, as the name imports, are principally
devoted to ship-building, boat-building, and rope-making. The shore of
Commercial Bay is occupied by the store and shop-keeping people, while
Official Bay is surrounded by the principal official buildings, the
Government storehouses, and such like.

I have been told here that Auckland is completely out of place as the
capital of the colony, being situated at the narrowest part of the
island, far away from the principal seats of population, which are in
Cook's Straits and even further south. The story is current that
Auckland is due to an early job of Government officials, who combined
to buy up the land about it and when it had been fixed upon as the
site of the capital, sold out their lots at fabulous prices, to the
feathering of their own nests.

A great many natives, or Maoris, are hanging about the town. It seems
that they are here in greater numbers than usual, their votes being
wanted for the passing or confirmation of some land measure. Groups of
them stand about the streets talking and gesticulating; a still
greater number are hanging round the public-houses, which they enter
from time to time to have a drink. I cannot say I like the look of the
men; they look very ugly customers indeed--beetle-browed and
down-looking, "with foreheads villanous low." Their appearance is all
the more revolting by reason of the large blue circles of tattoo on
their faces. Indeed, when the New Zealander is fully tattooed, which
is the case with the old aristocrats, there is very little of his
original face visible, excepting perhaps his nose and his bright black
eyes.

Most of the men were dressed in the European costume, though some few
were in their native blankets, which they wear with grace and even
dignity. The men were of fine physique--tall, strong, and
well-made--and, looking at their keen fierce eyes, I do not wonder
that they have given our soldiers so much trouble. I could not help
thinking, as I saw them hanging about the drinking-shops, some half
drunk, that English drink will in the long run prove their conquerors
far more than English rifles.

There were many Maori women mingled with the men. Some of them were
good looking. Their skin is of a clear dark olive; their eyes dark
brown or black; their noses small and their mouths large. But nearly
all of them have a horrid blue tattoo mark on their lips, that serves
to give them--at least to European eyes--a repulsive look.

Many of the women, as well as the men, wear a piece of native
greenstone hanging from their ears, to which is attached a long piece
of black ribbon. This stone is supposed by the Maoris to possess some
magical virtue. Others of them--men, as well as girls--have sharks'
teeth hanging from their ears and dangling about their faces,--the
upper part of the teeth being covered with bright red wax.

Mixed with the Maoris were the sailors of the 'Galatea,' rolling about
the streets, and, like them, frequent customers of the public-houses.
In fact, the sailors and the Maoris seemed to form a considerable
proportion of the population of the place.

The landlord of the hotel at which we stayed--the 'Waitemata'--having
recommended us to take a drive into the interior, we set out at midday
by stage coach for Onehunga. Auckland being situated at the narrowest
part of the North Island, Onehunga, which is on the west coast, is
only seven miles distant by land, though five hundred by water.

The coach started at noon, and it was hard work for the four horses
to drag the vehicle up the long steep hill at the back of the town.
Nice country-houses stood on both sides of the road, amidst fresh
green gardens; the houses almost buried in foliage.

From the high road a magnificent landscape stretched before us. It
reminded me very much of a particular view of the Lake of Geneva,
though this was even more grand and extensive. The open sea was at
such a distance, and so shut out by intervening high land, that it was
scarcely visible. The lovely frith or bay, with its numerous inlets,
islands, and surrounding bright green hills, lay at our feet. The blue
water wound in and out amongst the hills on our right for a distance
of about fifteen miles. There was a large open stretch of water,
surrounded by high mountains, towards the west. Right before us was
the entrance to the bay, with the pilot-station hill on one side and
Mount Victoria on the other. Between these two hills, high land stood
up in the distance, so that the whole gave one the impression of a
beautiful inland lake rather than of a sea view. It was, without
exception, the most magnificent prospect I had ever looked upon. Yet
they tell me this is surpassed by the scenery in other parts of New
Zealand; in which case it must indeed be an exceedingly picturesque
country.

We drove along through a pretty green country, with fine views of the
plains toward the right, bounded by distant blue mountains. In about
another quarter of an hour, after passing through the village of
Epsom, we came in sight of the sea on the west coast, and were
shortly set down at Onehunga, on the shore of Manukau Bay. Onehunga is
a small township, containing a few storehouses, besides
dwelling-houses, with an hotel or two. The view here was also fine,
but not so interesting as that on the eastern side of the island.
Plains, bounded by distant mountains, extended along the coast on one
side, and high broken cliffs ran along the shore and bounded the sea
in front of us. After an hour's rest, at Onehunga, we returned to
Auckland, enjoying the drive back very much, in spite of the
inconveniently-crowded coach.

There was a sort of gala in Auckland that evening. A promenade concert
was given on the parade-ground at the barracks, at which the band of
the 'Galatea' played to the company. The Prince himself, it was
announced, would perform on the occasion. It was a fine moonlight
night, and the inhabitants of Auckland turned out in force. There must
have been at least two thousand well-dressed people promenading about,
listening to the music. The Prince's elephant was there too, and
afforded a good deal of amusement. How the poor brute was slung out of
the 'Galatea,' got on shore, and got back on ship-board again, was to
me a mystery.

I went down to the steamer at the appointed time of sailing, but found
that the 'City' was not to leave for several hours after time. The
mail express was to wait until Mr. and Mrs. Bandman--who had been
acting in Auckland--had received some presentation from the officers
of the 'Galatea'! It seemed odd that a mail steamer should be delayed
some hours to suit the convenience of a party of actors. But there
are strange doings connected with this mail line. Time is of little
moment here; and, in New Zealand, I suspect time is even less valued
than usual. They tell me that few mails leave New Zealand without
having to wait, on some pretext or another. There does not seem to be
the same activity, energy, and business aptitude that exists in the
Australian colonies. The Auckland people seem languid and half asleep.
Perhaps their soft, relaxing, winterless climate has something to do
with it.

Having nothing else to occupy me before the ship sailed, I took leave
of my Australian friend, gave him my last messages for Maryborough and
Majorca, and went on board. I was wakened up about midnight by the
noise of the anchor coming up; and, in a few minutes more, we were off
and on our way to Honolulu up the Pacific.




CHAPTER XX.

UP THE PACIFIC.

DEPARTURE FOR HONOLULU--MONOTONY OF A VOYAGE BY
STEAM--DÉSAGRÉMENS--THE "GENTLEMEN" PASSENGERS--THE ONE SECOND CLASS
"LADY"--THE RATS ON BOARD--THE SMELLS--FLYING FISH--CROSS THE
LINE--TREATMENT OF NEWSPAPERS ON BOARD--HAWAII IN SIGHT--ARRIVAL AT
HONOLULU.


When I went on deck next morning, we had left New Zealand far behind
us; not a speck of land was to be seen, and we were fairly on our way
to Honolulu. We have before us a clear run of about four thousand
miles, and if our machinery and coal keep good, we know that we shall
do it easily in about seventeen days.

Strange though it may seem, there is much greater monotony in a voyage
on board a steamer than there is on board a sailing vessel. There is
nothing like the same interest felt in the progress of the ship, and
thus one unfailing topic of conversation and speculation is shut out.
There are no baffling winds, no sleeping calms, alternating with a
joyous and invigorating run before the wind, such as we had when
coming out, from Plymouth to the Cape. We only know that we shall do
our average ten miles an hour, be the weather what it may. If the wind
is blowing astern, we run before it; if ahead, we run through it.
Fair or foul it matters but little.

[Illustration: (Maps of the Ship's Course up the Pacific, Auckland,
and Sydney, Port Jackson)]

A voyage by a steamer, compared with one by sailing ship, is what a
journey by railway train is to a drive across country in a well-horsed
stage coach. There is, however, this to be said in favour of the
former,--we know that, monotonous though it be, it is very much sooner
over; and on a voyage of some thousands of miles, we can calculate to
a day, and almost to an hour, when we shall arrive at our
destination.

But, to be set against the shorter time consumed on the voyage, there
are numerous little _dГ©sagrГ©mens_. There is the dismal, never-ending
grind, grind of the screw, sometimes, when the ship rolls, and the
screw is out of the water, going round with a horrible _birr_. At such
times, the vessel has a double motion, pitching and rolling, and
thereby occasioning an inexpressibly sickly feeling. Then, when the
weather is hot, there is the steam of heated oil wafted up from the
engine-room, which, mingled with the smell of bilge, and perhaps
cooking, is anything but agreeable or appetizing. I must also
acknowledge that a second-class berth, which I had taken, is not
comparable in point of comfort to a first; not only as regards the
company, but as regards smells, food, and other surroundings.

There are not many passengers at my end, and the few there are do not
make themselves very agreeable. First, there are two German Jews,
grumbling and growling at everything. They are a couple of the most
cantankerous fellows I ever came across; never done knagging,
swearing, grunting, and bellowing. They keep the steward, who is an
obliging sort of fellow, in a state of constant "wax;" which, when I
want anything done for me, I have to remedy by tipping. So that they
are likely to prove somewhat costly companions, though in a peculiar
way.

Next, there is a German Yankee, a queer old fellow, who came on board
at Auckland. He seems to have made some money at one of the New
Zealand gold fields called "The Serpentine," somewhere near Dunedin.
This old fellow and I cotton together very well. He is worth a dozen
of the other two Germans. He had been all through the American war
under Grant, and spins some long yarns about the Northerners and the
"cussed rebs."

As there are twenty-seven bunks in our cabin, and only four
passengers, there is of course plenty of room and to spare. But there
is also a "lady" passenger at our end of the ship, and she has all the
fifteen sleeping-places in her cabin to herself. It might be supposed
that, there being only one lady, she would be in considerable demand
with her fellow-passengers. But it was quite the contrary. Miss
Ribbids, as I will call her, proved to be a most uninteresting
individual. I am sorry to have to confess to so much ungallantry; but
the only effort which I made, in common with the others, was to avoid
her--she was so hopelessly dense. One night she asked me, quite
seriously, "If that was the same moon they had at Sydney?"! I am sure
she does not know that the earth is round. By stretching a hair across
the telescope glass, I made her look in and showed her the Line, but
she did not see the joke. She gravely asked if we should not land at
the Line: she understood there was land there! Her only humour is
displayed at table, when anything is spilt by the rolling of the ship,
when she exclaims, "Over goes the apple-cart!" But enough of the awful
Miss Ribbids.

There are, however, other passengers aboard that must not be
forgotten--the rats! I used to have a horror of rats, but here I soon
became used to them. The first night I slept on board I smelt
something very disgusting as I got into my bunk; and at last I
discovered that it arose from a dead rat in the wainscot of the ship.
My nose being somewhat fastidious as yet, I moved to the other side of
the cabin. But four kegs of strong-smelling butter sent me quickly out
of that. I then tried a bunk next to the German Jews, but I found
proximity to them was the least endurable of all; and so, after many
changes, I at last came back and slept contentedly beside my unseen
and most unsavoury companion, the dead rat.

But there are plenty of living and very lively rats too. One night a
big fellow ran over my face, and in a fright I cried out. But use is
everything, and in the course of a few more nights I got quite rid of
my childish astonishment and fear at rats running over my face. Have
you ever heard rats sing? I assure you they sing in a very lively
chorus; though I confess I have heard much pleasanter music in my
time.

Amidst all these little troubles, the ship went steadily on. During
the second night, after leaving Auckland, the wind began to blow
pretty fresh, and the hatch was closed. It felt very close and stuffy
below, that night. The light went out, and the rats had it all their
own way. On the following day, it was impossible to go on deck without
getting wet through, so we were forced to stick down below. The
rolling of the ship was also considerable.

Next day was fine, but hot. The temperature sensibly and even rapidly
increases as we approach the Line. We see no land, though we have
passed through amongst the Friendly Islands, with the Samoa or
Navigator's Islands lying to the west. It is now a clear course to
Honolulu. Not being able to go on deck in the heat of the day, at risk
of sun-stroke, I wait until the sun has gone down, and then slip on
deck with my rug and pillow, and enjoy a siesta under the stars. But
sometimes I am disturbed by a squall, and have to take refuge below
again.

As the heat increases, so do the smells on board. In passing from the
deck to our cabin, I pass through seven distinct perfumes:--1st, the
smell from the galley smoke; 2nd, the perfume of decaying vegetables
stored on the upper deck; 3rd, fowls; 4th, dried fish; 5th, oil and
steam from the engine-room; 6th, meat undergoing the process of
cooking; 7th, the galley by which I pass; until I finally enter No. 8,
our own sweet cabin, with the butter, the rats, and the German Jews.

We are again in the midst of the flying fish; but they interest me
nothing like so vividly as they did when I first saw them in the
Atlantic. Some of them take very long flights, as much as thirty or
forty yards. Whole shoals of them fly away from the bows of the ship
as she presses through the water.

On the 19th of January we crossed the Line, in longitude about 160В°.
We continue on a straight course, making an average of about 240 miles
a day. It already begins to get cooler, as we are past the sun's
greatest heat. It is a very idle, listless life; and I lie about on
the hen-coops all day, reading, or sitting down now and then to write
up this log, which has been written throughout amidst discomfort and
under considerable difficulties.

One of my fellow-passengers is enraged at the manner in which
newspapers are treated while in transit. If what he says be true, I
can easily understand how it is that so many newspapers miscarry--how
so many numbers of 'Punch' and the 'Illustrated News' never reach
their destination. My informant says that when an officer wants a
newspaper, the mail-bag is opened, and he takes what he likes. He
might just as well be permitted to have letters containing money. Many
a poor colonial who cannot write a letter, buys and despatches a
newspaper to his friends at home, to let them know he is alive; and
this is the careless and unfaithful way in which the missive is
treated by those to whom its carriage is entrusted. I heard many
complaints while in Victoria, of newspapers containing matter of
interest never reaching their address; from which I infer that the
same practice more or less prevails on the Atlantic route. It is
really too bad.

As we steam north, the weather grows fine, and we begin to have some
splendid days and glorious sunsets. But we are all longing eagerly to
arrive at our destination. At length, on the morning of the 24th of
January, we discerned the high land of the island of Hawaii, about
seventy miles off, on our beam. That is the island where Captain Cook
was murdered by the natives, in 1779. We saw distinctly the high
conical volcanic mountain of Mauna Loa, 14,000 feet high, its peak
showing clear above the grey clouds.

We steamed on all day, peering ahead, looking out for the land. Night
fell, and still our port was not in sight. At length, at about ten,
the lighthouse on the reef which stretches out in front of Honolulu,
shone out in the darkness. Then began a little display of fireworks,
and rockets and blue lights were exchanged between our ship and the
shore. A rocket also shot up from a steamer to seaward, and she was
made out to be the 'Moses Taylor,' the ship that is to take us on to
San Francisco.

At about one in the morning, we take our pilot on board, and shortly
after, my German friends rouse me with the intelligence that we are
alongside the wharf. I am now, however, getting an "old bird;" my
enthusiasm about novelty has gone down considerably; and I decline the
pleasure of accompanying them on shore at this early hour. Honolulu
will doubtless wait for me until morning.

[Illustration: HONOLULU, SANDWICH ISLANDS.]




CHAPTER XXI.

HONOLULU AND THE ISLAND OF OAHU.

THE HARBOUR OF HONOLULU--IMPORTANCE OF ITS SITUATION--THE
CITY--CHURCHES AND THEATRES--THE POST OFFICE--THE SUBURBS--THE KING'S
PALACE--THE NUUANU VALLEY--POI--PEOPLE COMING DOWN THE VALLEY--THE
PALI--PROSPECT FROM THE CLIFFS--THE NATIVES (KANAKAS)--DIVERS--THE
WOMEN--DRINK PROHIBITION--THE CHINESE--THEATRICALS--MUSQUITOES.


When I came on deck in the early morning, the sun was rising behind
the mountains which form the background of Honolulu as seen from the
harbour, tipping them with gold and red, and bathing the landscape in
beauty. I could now survey at leisure the lovely scene.

I found we had entered a noble harbour, round which the town of
Honolulu is built, with its quays, warehouses and shipyards. Looking
seaward, I observe the outer bay is nearly closed in at its lower
extremity by the long ridge-like hill, called Diamond Head. Nearer at
hand, behind the town, is a remarkable eminence called Punchbowl Hill,
evidently of volcanic origin, crowned with a battery, and guarding the
entrance to the smaller bay which forms the harbour.

The entrance to the harbour is through a passage in one of the coral
reefs which surround the island, the coral insects building upwards
from the submerged flanks of the land, until the reefs emerge from the
waves, more or less distant from the shore. As the water at the
shallowest part of the entrance is only about twenty-two feet, vessels
of twenty-feet draught and over have to remain outside, where,
however, there is good anchorage and shelter, unless when the wind
blows strong from the south. The water inside the reefs is usually
smooth, though the waves outside may be dashing themselves to foam on
their crests.

A glance at the situation of the Sandwich Islands on the map will
serve to show the important part they are destined to play in the
future commerce of the Pacific. They lie almost directly in the course
of all ships passing from San Francisco and Vancouver to China and
Japan, as well as to New Zealand and Australia. They are almost
equidistant from the coasts of Russia and America, being rather
nearer to the American coast, from which they are distant about 2100
miles. They form, as it were, a stepping-stone on the great ocean
highway of the Pacific between the East and the West--between the old
world and the new--as well as between the newest and most prosperous
settlements in the Western States of America and Australia. And it is
because Honolulu--the principal town in the island of Oahu, and the
capital of the Sandwich Islands--possesses by far the best, most
accessible, and convenient harbour, that it is a place likely to
become of so much importance in the future. It has not been unusual to
see as many as from a hundred to a hundred and fifty sail riding
securely at anchor there.

[Illustration: (Map of Oahu, Sandwich Islands)]

As seen from the harbour, Honolulu is an extremely pretty place. It
lies embowered in fresh green foliage, the roofs of the houses peeping
up here and there from amongst the trees, while the waving fronds of
the cocoa-nut palms rise in some places majestically above them,
contrasting strangely with the volcanic crags and peaks which form the
distant background. In the older part of the town, to the right, the
houses are more scattered about; and from the first appearance of the
place, one would scarcely suppose that it contained so large a
population as twelve thousand, though many of the houses are
doubtless hidden by the foliage and the undulations of the ground on
which the place is built.

Behind the town, a plain of about two miles in width extends to the
base of the mountain range which forms its background. The
extraordinary shapes of the mountains--their rugged ravines and
precipitous peaks--unmistakably denote the volcanic agencies that have
been at work in forming the islands, and giving to the scenery its
most marked features. Just at the back of the town, a deep valley, or
rather gorge, runs through a break in the hills, the sides of which
are covered with bright green foliage. The country, which rises
gradually up to this break in the mountains, is exceedingly
picturesque. Altogether, the first sight of the place came fully up to
my anticipations of the beauty of a tropical town in the Pacific.

I proceeded to take my first walk through Honolulu at half-past five
in the morning. It was the 25th of January--the dead of winter; but
there is no winter in Honolulu. It is as warm as August is in England;
and the warmth of the place all the year through is testified by the
fact that there is not a dwelling-house chimney in the town. I walked
along the shady streets up to the market-place, and there I found a
number of the natives squatted on their haunches, selling plantains,
oranges, bananas, fruits, and vegetables. I invested sixpence in an
enormous bunch of bananas, which I carried back with me to the ship
for the use of our party, very much to their enjoyment, for the fruit
was in perfection.

In the course of the forenoon I proceeded to explore Honolulu at
greater leisure. I found the central portion of the town consisted of
regularly laid out streets, many of the houses enclosed within
gardens. The trees standing here and there amongst the shops and
warehouses give them a fresh and primitive look. I pass several places
of worship in going to the Post Office,--the English Cathedral,
chapels of American Congregationalists, Wesleyan Methodists, and Roman
Catholics. There is also the Royal Hawaiian Theatre, and an Equestrian
Circus, as well as a Police Office. Police? "Yes; bless you, sir, we
are civilised!"

I could see the Post Office a long way off before I reached it,
standing in a small square at the head of one of the principal
streets. It was easily known by the crowd of people, both natives and
foreigners, on the steps. For the mail had just come in by the 'Moses
Taylor,' and everybody was anxious to know what had been the upshot of
the European war and the siege of Paris. That war even threatens to
disturb the peace of Honolulu itself; for there is now a French
man-of-war at anchor in the harbour, the 'Hamelin,' watching a fine
German merchant ship, the 'Count Bismarck,' that arrived a few days
before the Frenchman. The Germans have taken the precaution to paint
"Honolulu" on the stern of their vessel, and to place themselves under
the protection of the Hawaiian Government. So the commander of the
French ship, finding he can make no capture here, has weighed anchor
and steamed out of port, doubtless to lie in wait for the German
vessel outside should she venture to put to sea.

I found the Post Office a sort of joint post-office and stationer's
shop, the principal business consisting in the sale of newspapers. I
was amazed to find that though a steamer runs regularly from Honolulu
to Australia there is no postal communication with Victoria, except
_viГў_ America and England! This is on account of the Victorian
Government refusing to subsidize the new Californian and Australian
mail line. Should such a line become established and prosper, the
Victorians fear that an advantage would be given to Sydney, and that
Melbourne, instead of being on the main line of mail communication, as
it now is, would be shunted on to a branch. But surely there is room
enough for a mail line by both the Atlantic and Pacific routes,
without occasion for jealousy either on the part of Sydney or
Melbourne.

After settling my business at the Post Office, accompanied by my
German-Yankee fellow-passenger, I took a stroll round the town and
suburbs; though it is so open and green that it seems _all_ suburbs.
We invested a small sum in oranges, which we found in perfection, and
sucked them as we went along in the most undignified way possible. We
directed our steps to that part of the town where the better class
seemed to reside, in cool, shady lanes, the houses embowered in
large-leaved tropical trees, cocoa-nut, banana, bread-fruit, calabash,
and other palms, with cycas and tree-ferns with stems some fifteen
feet high. Flower-bearing shrubs also abounded, such as the Hibiscus,
Mairi, of which the women make wreaths, and Gardenia, with the flowers
of which they also adorn themselves. In some of the gardens water was
laid on, and pretty fountains were playing, from which it would appear
that the water supply is good, and that there is a good head of it in
some mountain reservoir above.

We strolled along to the right of the town, towards the high volcanic
mountain on which the fort is situated, the long extinct crater
showing plainly on its summit. Some years since, when a French ship
bombarded the town, the Kanakas who manned the fort, threw down their
sponges, rammers, and all, directly the first shot was fired, leaving
the fort to take care of itself.

We returned to the harbour by way of the King's palace, which is in
the centre of the town, and may be known by the royal flag floating
over it. The palace is built of coral stone, and is an unpretending
building, reminding one of a French _maison de campagne_. It stands in
about an acre of ground, ornamented with flowers, shrubs, and an
avenue of kukui and koa-trees. A native sentry stood at the gate in
his uniform of blue coat and white trousers, and with his musket duly
shouldered in regulation style.

On the following day I made an excursion with an American gentleman,
who is something of a naturalist, to the remarkable valley, or gorge,
in the mountains at the back of the town, which had so attracted my
notice when I first saw it from the deck of our ship. It is called the
Nuuanu Valley, and is well worthy of a visit. The main street of the
town leads directly up to the entrance to the valley; and on the road
we passed many pretty low-roofed houses surrounded by beautifully-kept
gardens, the houses being those of the chief merchants and consuls of
the port. They looked quite cool and pleasant, embowered in green
papyrus, tamarind, and palm-trees, which shaded them from the hot
tropical sun with their large-leaved foliage. I find the sun now, in
winter-time, so hot that it is almost intolerable. What must it be in
summer?

As we proceed, we reach the fertile land, which nearly all lies at the
foot of the mountains, the long disintegration of the high ground
having left a rich deposit for vegetable growth. Some patches of
arrowroot lie close to the road, irrigated by the streams that run
down from the mountain above. But the principal crop is the taro-plant
(_Arum esculentum_), from which the native food of _poi_ is made. Let
me say a few words about this _poi_, as it forms the main staple of
Hawaiian food. The taro is grown in pits or beds, kept very wet,--in
which case, urged by the natural heat of the climate, it grows with
immense rapidity and luxuriance. It is the succulent root which is
used for food. It is pounded into a semi-fluid mess, after which it is
allowed to stand a few days and ferment; it is then worked about with
the hands until it acquires the proper consistency for eating, when it
is stored in gourds and calabashes. It must be of a certain thickness,
neither too soft nor too firm, something of the consistency of thick
flour-paste, though glutinous, and it is eaten in the following
manner. Two fingers are dipped into the pot containing the _poi_, and
turned rapidly round until a sufficient quantity of the paste adheres
to them; then, by a rapid motion, the lot is wriggled out of the pot,
conveyed into the mouth, and the fingers are sucked clean. Young girls
dip in only one finger at a time, the men two fingers. I was
frequently invited to dip my fingers into the _poi_ and try it, being
told that it was very good; but I had not the courage.[15]

But to proceed on my walk up the Nuuanu Valley. About two miles from
the town, we came to a very pretty villa on one side of the
road,--with some large native huts, in a shady garden, on the other.
We find that this villa is the country residence of Queen Emma.
Looking in through the gate of the garden opposite, who should I see
but our quondam lady passenger from Sydney, Miss Ribbids, reclining on
a bank in the most luxurious fashion! She had walked up the valley
alone, she informed us, and the natives had been most kind to her,
giving her fruits, and wreaths of flowers for her adornment.

Proceeding up the valley, we find ourselves on high ground, our road
having been for the most part up-hill. Looking back, a charming view
lies spread before us. The sky is brilliant and unclouded. Below us
lie the town and harbour, the blue sea as smooth as a mirror,
shipping dotting the bay, and a silvery line of water breaking along
the distant reef. We begin to catch the breeze blowing from the upper
part of the valley, and it feels fresh and invigorating after toiling
under the noonday sun.

As we ascend the road we meet several of the native girls coming down
on horseback. They seem to have quite a passion for riding in the
island, and have often to be prevented racing through the streets of
Honolulu. The horses are of a poor breed; but the women, who sit
astride like the men, seem plucky riders, their long, flowing dresses
making respectable riding-habits. Most of the girls wore garlands of
_ohelo_ and other flowers round their heads, being very fond of
ornament.

Shortly after meeting the girls, a man passed us, at the usual jog
canter, with a coffin slung on the saddle in front of him, and after
him followed another rider with the lid. We remarked upon the strange
burden, and I asked of the first man, who was going to be buried? "My
wife," he replied; "me pay seventy-five dollars for um coffin." He
grinned, and seemed quite pleased with his coffin, which was really a
handsome one.

As we ascend, we seem to get quite into the bush. Thick vegetation
spreads up the steep hills on each side of us. I can now understand
how difficult it must be to travel through a tropical forest. The
brushwood grows so close together, and is so intertwined, that it
would appear almost impossible to force one's way through it. The
mountains rise higher and higher as we advance, and are covered with
lovely light-green foliage. The hills seem to have been thrown up
evenly in ridges, each ridge running up the mountain-side having its
separate peak. Here and there a small cataract leaps down the face of
a rock, shining like a silver thread, and disappearing in the
brushwood below until it comes down to swell the mountain-torrent
running by our side close to the road.

At a turn of the road, we suddenly encountered a number of men coming
down from some cattle ranches in the hills, mounted _Г  la Mexicaine_,
with lassoes on their saddles and heavy whips in their hands, driving
before them a few miserable cattle. There seemed to be about eighteen
men to a dozen small beasts. I guess that a couple of Australian
stockmen, with their whips, could easily have driven before them the
whole lot--men, horses, and cattle.

We were now about seven miles from Honolulu, and very near the end of
our up-hill journey. After walking up a steeper ascent than usual, the
scenery becoming even more romantic and picturesque, we pass through a
thicket of hibiscus and other trees, when suddenly, on turning round a
small pile of volcanic rocks, we emerge on an open space, and the
grand precipice or Pali, of the Nuuanu Valley bursts upon us with
startling effect.

Here, in some tremendous convulsion of Nature, the mountain-ridge
seems to have been suddenly rent and burst through towards its
summit, and we look down over a precipice some five hundred feet deep.
It is possible to wind down the face of the rock by a narrow path;
but, having no mind to make the descent, we rest and admire the
magnificent prospect before and below us. Under the precipice is a
forest, so near to the foot of the rock that one might easily pitch a
stone into it. Over the forest stretches a lovely country, green and
fresh, dotted with hills and woods. The sea, about seven miles off,
bounds the view, with its silver line of breakers on the outer reef.
The long line of white looks beautiful on the calm blue sea, with the
sun shining on it. The country before us did not seem to be much
cultivated. Here and there, below us, a native hut might be discerned
amidst the trees, but no large dwelling or village was in sight.

The rent in the mountain, through which we have passed, is torn and
rugged. Immense masses of black rock, several hundred feet in height,
and nearly perpendicular, form the two sides of the rift. On one side,
the mountain seems to rise straight up into the air, until it is lost
in a white cloud; on the other, the rock is equally precipitous, but
not quite so high. From this last the range stretches away in a
semicircle, ending along the coast some twenty miles distant.

A few more words about the natives, whom I have as yet only
incidentally alluded to. Of course, I saw a good deal of them, in one
way or another, during my brief stay at Honolulu. We had scarcely got
alongside the wharf, ere the Kanakas--as they are called--came
aboard, popping their heads in and out of the cabins, some selling
bananas and oranges, others offering coral and curiosities, but most
of them to examine the ship out of mere curiosity. From what I
observed, I should say that the Kanakas are of the same stock as the
Maoris, not so much tattoo-marked, much more peacefully inclined, and
probably more industrious. Some of the men are tall and handsome,
which is more than I can say of the women. The men do not work very
heartily on day wages, but well enough when paid by the piece. Here,
on the wharf, they get a dollar for a day's work, and a
dollar-and-a-half for night-work. They are employed in filling the
coal-bunkers and unloading the ship.

The Kanakas are capital divers, and work almost as well in the water
as out of it. I saw one of them engaged in repairing the bottom of the
'Moses Taylor,' by which I am to sail for San Francisco. He is paid
three dollars for a general inspection, or five dollars for a day's
work. I saw him go down to nail a piece of copper-sheathing on the
bottom, where it had been damaged in grounding upon a rock, when last
coming out of San Francisco harbour. He took down about thirty copper
nails in his mouth, with the hammer and sheet of copper in his hand,
coming up to breathe after each nail was knocked in. I could hear the
loud knocking as he drove the nails into the ship's side. At the same
time, some Kanaka boys were playing about in the water near at hand,
diving for stones or bits of money. The piece was never allowed to
sink more than a few feet before a boy was down after it and secured
it. They never missed the smallest silver-bit. It seemed to me as if
some of them could swim before they could walk.

As for the women, although travellers have spread abroad reports of
their beauty, I was unable to see it. While the 'Moses Taylor' lay in
the harbour, the saloon was sometimes full of native girls, who came
down from the country to see the ship and admire themselves in the two
large saloon mirrors, before which they stood laughing and giggling.
Their usual dress consists of a long, loose gown, reaching down to the
ancles, with no fastening round the waist; and their heads and necks
are usually adorned with leaves or flowers of some sort. They seem to
me very like the Maori women, but without the blue tattoo-mark on the
lips; nor are their features so strongly marked, though they had the
same wide faces, black eyes, full nostrils, and large lips. Their
skins are of various hues, from a yellow to a dusky-brown. Their feet
and hands are usually small and neat.

I am told that the race is degenerating and dying out fast. The
population of the islands is said to be little more than one-tenth of
what it was when Captain Cook visited them; and this falling off is
reported to be mainly due to the unchaste habits of the women. The
missionaries have long been trying to make a salutary impression on
them; but, though the natives profess Christianity in various forms,
it is to be feared that it is a profession, and little more. The King,
also, has tried to make them more moral, by putting in force a sort
of Maine liquor-law; but every ship that enters the harbour is beset
by natives wanting drink, and they adopt various methods of evading
the law. The licence charged by the Government to a retailer of
spirits is a thousand dollars a year; but he must not sell liquor to
any foreigner on a Sunday, nor to any native at any time, under a
penalty of five hundred dollars. This penalty is rigidly exacted; and
if the spirit-dealer is unable to pay the fine, he is put on the
coral-reefs, to work at twenty-five cents a day until he has worked
off the amount. Accordingly, the liquor-trade is followed by very few
persons, and the consumption of drink by the natives is very much
curtailed,--compared, for instance, with what it is among the
drink-consuming natives of New Zealand, who are allowed to swallow the
"fire-water," to the great profit of the publicans and to their own
demoralization, without any restriction whatever.

I find the Government here also levies a very considerable sum from
the Chinese, for the privilege of selling opium. It is put up annually
to auction, and in some years as much as forty-five thousand dollars
have been paid for the monopoly, though this year it has brought
considerably less in consequence of the dulness of trade. From this
circumstance it will be inferred that there is a considerable Chinese
population in the place. Indeed, some of the finest stores in Honolulu
are kept by Chinamen. I did not at first observe many of these people
about; but afterwards, when exploring, I found whole back-streets
full of Chinamen's huts and houses.

From the announcements of theatrical and other entertainments I see
about, the people here must be very fond of amusement. Indeed,
Honolulu seems to be one of the great centres of pleasure in the
Pacific. All wandering "stars" come hither. When I was at Auckland, in
New Zealand, I went to the theatre to see a troupe of Japanese
jugglers. I had seen the identical troupe in London, and "All Right"
was amongst them. They were on their way to Honolulu, to star it here
before returning to Japan. Charles Mathews, with whom I made the
voyage from Melbourne to Sydney, is also advertised to appear, "for a
few nights only," at the Royal Hawaiian Theatre.[16] And now here is
The Bandman, my fellow-passenger from Auckland, advertised, in big
placards, as "The World-renowned Shaksperian Player," &c., who is
about to give a series of such and such representations at the same
place.

Beautiful though the island of Oahu may be, I soon found that I could
not live there. Even in winter it was like living in a hothouse. The
air was steamy with heat, and frightfully relaxing. At intervals my
nose streamed with blood, and I grew sensibly thinner. Then I suffered
terribly from the musquitoes; my ankles were quite swollen with their
bites, and in a day or two more I should have been dead-lame. There
are, besides, other tormentors--small flies, very like the Victorian
sand-flies, that give one a nasty sting. I was very glad, therefore,
after four days' stay at Honolulu, to learn that the 'Moses Taylor'
was ready to sail for San Francisco.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 15: The poi is said to grow so abundantly and with so little
labour in the Sandwich Islands, that it tends to encourage the natural
indolence of the people. A taro pit no bigger than an ordinary
drawing-room will keep a man in food a whole year. Nature is so
prolific that labour is scarcely requisite in these hot climates. Thus
the sun may be a great demoralizer.]

[Footnote 16: I find in a Californian paper the following amusing
account by Mr. Mathews himself, of his appearance before a Honolulu
audience:--

"At Honolulu, one of the loveliest little spots upon earth, I acted
one night 'by command, and in the presence of his Majesty Kamehameha
V., King of the Sandwich Islands' (not 'Hoky Poky Wonky Fong,' as
erroneously reported), and a memorable night it was. On my way to the
quaint little Hawaiian Theatre, situated in a rural lane, in the midst
of a pretty garden, glowing with gaudy tropical flowers, and shaded by
cocoa-trees, bananas, banyans, and tamarinds, I met the playbill of
the evening. A perambulating Kanaka (or native black gentleman),
walking between two boards (called in London, figuratively, 'a
sandwich man,' but here, of course literally so), carried aloft a
large illuminated white lantern, with the announcement in the Kanaka
language to catch the attention of the coloured inhabitants: 'Charles
Mathews; Keaka Keia Po (Theatre open this evening). Ka uku o Ke Komo
ana (reserved seats, dress circle), $2.50; Nohi mua (Parquette), $1;
Noho ho (Kanaka pit), 75c.' I found the theatre (to use the technical
expression) 'crammed to suffocation,' which merely means 'very full,'
though from the state of the thermometer on this occasion,
'suffocation' was not so incorrect a description as usual. A really
elegant-looking audience (tickets 10_s._ each), evening dresses,
uniforms of every cut and every country. 'Chieftesses' and ladies of
every tinge, in dresses of every colour, flowers and jewels in
profusion, satin playbills, fans going, windows and doors all open, an
outside staircase leading straight into the dress circle, without
lobby, check-taker, or money-taker. Kanaka women in the garden below
selling bananas and pea-nuts by the glare of flaring torches on a
sultry tropical moonlight night. The whole thing was like nothing but
a midsummer-night's dream. And was it nothing to see a pit full of
Kanakas, black, brown, and whitey-brown (till lately cannibals),
showing their white teeth, grinning and enjoying 'Patter _v._ Clatter'
as much as a few years ago they would have enjoyed the roasting of a
missionary or the baking of a baby? It was certainly a page in one's
life never to be forgotten."]