CHAPTER II

HAWAII BY STEERAGE

PASSING the examination was only part of the procedure through which we had to go to obtain positions as sub-inspectors of dredging on the construction of the Pearl Harbour Naval Base. The next step was to get an appointment from Washington which was not to be had until there was a vacancy at the harbour. The naval authorities in Honolulu could give us no assurance when an opening would occur, so we decided to visit some of the other islands while awaiting developments. We wished to see Kilauea, the only active volcano in the Hawaiian archipelago, on the island of Hawaii, about one hundred and twenty-five miles south of Honolulu. We also wished to see Haleakala, the largest extinct crater in the world on the island of Maui.

We sailed on the S.S. _Wilhelmina_ for Hawaii, accompanied by a fellow school teacher by the name of Hammond. Richardson went as a member of the crew while Hammond and I were steerage passengers at three dollars a head--as we supposed. No one came to collect our fares, so I reluctantly offered the money to the purser who refused it--for he knew we were poor men. We returned under similar good fortune, making a total of two hundred and fifty miles of travel, including meals, for nothing. Richardson's duties consisted of bucking around one-hundred-and-fifty-pound sugar sacks, and he received little sympathy from his two travelling companions who sat leisurely by and made fun of him. He proved to be a very poor workman, for after the ship was well under way he shirked his duties to such an extent that he enjoyed all the comforts and leisure of steerage travel.

We were the most aristocratic steerage passengers that this ship or any other ever had. Instead of conducting ourselves like cattle, as fourth-class passengers sometimes do, we mingled with the pretty girls of the first-class, took deck chairs which usually retail at a dollar a trip, explored the boat beyond the steerage line and when the steward emerged from the lower deck and in the presence of all the passengers shouted, "Grub is ready, get your gang together," the three of us dropped down the hole and lined up alongside of the trough and proceeded to place away the food which was served in wholesale quantities on tinware. Our iron-piped bunks were free from bed-bugs and other inhabitants, but the hairy blankets were tormentors all night long. It was a rough trip and it was fortunate that none of us was seasick. It would have been extremely awkward, for no provision was made for receptacles of any kind which are necessary under such circumstances. Our bunks were ten feet from the port holes, which were twelve feet from the deck, and in order to do the usual thing through one of these apertures it would have been necessary to procure a ladder, and even then we should have run the risk of getting our heads caught in the port holes and of being unable to draw them out. One's imagination can picture the steerage steward being greeted in the morning by three bums hanging lifelessly by their heads from three successive port holes, with their legs dangling in the air.

Richardson was determined to break in on two attractive girls on the first-class promenade deck. One of them was seated in front of her stateroom looking like an unlaundered towel and doing her best to hold down a recently devoured meal. Richardson prinked before the steerage mirror and walked briskly along the deck to the point where the young lady was sitting. He stopped short and bluntly asked,

"Are you seasick?"

"Don't I look it?" she replied with a smile.

This was the entering wedge and soon Richardson introduced his fellow travellers. The steerage quarters were immediately deserted and we spent the rest of the trip on the promenade deck with the women. One of them proved to be the daughter of an high official of the Oceanic Steamship Company, which at that time was contemplating placing on a line of steamers from San Francisco to Australia. We met her father who, on hearing of the plans of our trip, which we enthusiastically related, said that in the event the new line was put on he would see that we got to Australia for nothing. Unfortunately for us, our time to depart came before this line was inaugurated.

We landed at Hilo on the island of Hawaii early in the morning, and bought a third-class round-trip ticket for $1.60 to Glenwood, twenty-two miles distant. From Glenwood we walked the remaining nine miles to the Volcano House in two hours and fifteen minutes, rising two thousand feet and beating the stage by twenty minutes. The road was a good thoroughfare through tropical forests of tree ferns, twenty feet in height; of _ohia lehua_, a tree belonging to the same family as the eucalyptus; _koa_ or Hawaiian mahogany; wild bananas; papaia, water lemons, palms and wild roses. On arriving at the Volcano House we had something to eat and then set out across the lava beds for three miles to Halemaumau--the active pit of the volcano--where we spent the night in a shack perched on its edge.

Kilauea is one of the "seven wonders" of America. It is situated on the slopes of Mauna Loa, a barren mountain rising gradually from the sea to a height of thirteen thousand five hundred feet. The Volcano House, or tourist hotel on the hillside, commands an excellent view of the crater with its desert of lava, of the swirling smoke of the pit and of Mauna Loa, rising majestically in the distance to its dome-like summit.

Vesuvius is a large broken cone on the top of a mountain. Kilauea is an enormous cavity about seven miles in circumference and several hundred feet deep on the side of a mountain. The crater is a large lava bed cooled in peculiar and fantastic formations and it is about four miles in diameter. Across this dreary desert is a winding trail which leads from the Volcano House to the pit. Along this path there are immense fissures in the lava from which constantly rise volumes of sulphur smoke oozing out from the very bowels of the earth. As one approaches the pit the enormous column of smoke, which rises from it, is always present as a guide to his destination and at night it is a tower of light which spreads its rays for miles.

Halemaumau, the pit where the molten lava is raging, is about four hundred feet in diameter and at the time of our visit the level of the liquid fire was about six hundred feet below the floor of the crater. There is a pit within a pit, the top of the inner forming a shelf within the outer; and it was on this ledge that Mark Twain had the thrilling experience of rescuing a companion who had fallen through the lava. His account of this adventure is given in "Roughing It," and he relates in detail the difficulty with which he emerged from his perilous situation after wandering blindly about amidst the fumes of sulphur in search of a path to safety. To-day none but the fool-hardy venture below, as it is very dangerous. Richardson, Hammond and I explored the whole region, and we sat for hours on the edge of the precipice and watched this lake of molten lava--splashing, surging, tossing, gurgling, flowing--ever restless and ever beautiful.

This mass of writhing fluid looks like hell as pictured by the old-time fire and brimstone preachers. It appears to be flowing in a continuous current, coming from one side and disappearing at another. As floating pieces of lava cool and crack, a series of red hot fountains bursts through them, rising to a height of twenty or thirty feet. In the midst of this restless mass of Satanic fluid is a large stationary rock which reposes in its infernal position as peacefully as a cow in a pasture. Out of this awful chasm there arise clouds of sulphur smoke which conceal the bed to a great extent, but as there is always a strong constantly changing wind we were able to get good views of the whole scene.

It is extremely fascinating to sit on the edge of this pit and watch the incessant dashing and splashing of the glowing lava. It impressed even such homeless tramps as ourselves. One's thoughts drift back to the time, a century ago, when Mrs. Pele--the Hawaiian Goddess of volcanoes--was misbehaving to her full capacity, when the present outer crater with its cold and peaceful lava beds was one living mass of furious fire, when its rays were so brilliant at night that it illuminated the sky and sea for a radius of four hundred miles and the lava flowed at will down the mountain-side to the sea and extended the coast of this volcanic island.

An interesting story is told by the natives. Several years ago when Kilauea was unusually active there was great fear that the lava would flow down the mountain-side and bury the town of Hilo. The Hawaiians in their frenzied fright appealed to Princess Ruth for help. She, accompanied by the ladies and gentlemen of the court, proceeded to the volcano and with great ceremony, this portly and corpulent woman (it is said that she weighed three hundred pounds) stood on the edge of the pit and threw a live and disgusted pig into the midst of the burning cauldron, whereupon the boiling lava immediately subsided and the village of Hilo was saved.

The regular tourist rate from Honolulu to Kilauea is $59.50, which includes round-trip by boat, railroad fare from Hilo to Glenwood, stage charges to the Volcano House and board and room while there. Admitting that we missed a considerable degree of comfort, nevertheless, we saw all that the average tourist sees and at a cash outlay of only $2.10 each.

Huddled in the steerage of the _Mauna Kea_ (one of the small steamers of the Inter-Island Steam Navigation Company) with a score of Chinese, Japanese and Hawaiians, we left Honolulu for McGregor's Landing on the island of Maui to see the extinct volcano Haleakala. The trip was a night's journey and, as no sleeping accommodations are provided in the third-class of Hawaiian steamers, we bunked on the soft side of a coil of rope.

The ship arrived at McGregor's Landing about five o'clock in the morning and we went ashore feeling anything but rested after a most wearisome night. We made a bargain with a Chinese hack driver to carry us to Kahului, eight miles across the island. After breakfast we boarded a little narrow gauge train for Paia, a sugar plantation village a short distance up the coast on the slopes of Haleakala. We purchased a supply of provisions at the plantation store and were soon started on the twenty-mile climb to the top of the mountain. Haleakala is just over ten thousand feet in elevation and the trail to the summit ascends on an average of five hundred feet to the mile. A trip up Haleakala proved to be far from a pleasure jaunt.

The first part of our walk from Paia past the huge sugar factory lay through the great cane fields of the Maui Agricultural Company, the second largest plantation in the Hawaiian Islands. The cane was being harvested and the Japanese cutters were as busy as bees all about us.

About ten o'clock we reached the four-thousand-foot level. The cane fields began to disappear and our path wound its way among banana farms and taro patches. We helped ourselves to mangoes, papaias and guavas along the way. We ate our lunch at a Chinese store. The real climb began after midday. We left fertile fields and were soon following the trail across the middle slopes of the mountain. There were few trees and the sun shone down from a cloudless sky. Our gait was easily under the speed limit, only about two miles an hour. It was a hard stony road over which we had to travel.

As we ascended the view began to widen out on every side. We could look back over the cane fields to the Pacific and see the breakers rolling ashore. Above us towered the mountain, the summit now and again lost in a fleecy cloud. We almost forgot the hardships of the climb with such a picture before us.

Although the ascent from Paia to the top can be made in a single day, we decided to break the journey about half way, spend the night and start out refreshed for the last stretch. We stopped at Idlewilde and put up in the summer home of a Kahului friend. We made an early start. The trail was plainly marked with guide posts, each tenth of a mile. Idlewilde is eight miles by trail from the summit and the ascent from this point is over five thousand feet--seven hundred to the mile. The first three or four miles were comparatively easy, for we were fresh and the footing was good. About the fifth mile the real work began. The trail became steeper and steeper until it seemed straight up. We began to strike loose, volcanic dirt and sand. We passed the timber line and the stubby bushes with which the side of the mountain is covered afforded no protection from the sun. It was real mountain climbing--or just plain unadulterated work. The high altitude made frequent stops necessary for breathing spells. Our progress was slow. The last three miles took over three hours.

The view was magnificent. Forty miles of the Maui coast were spread out at our feet. To the south the island of Molokai loomed out of the sea. Two or three steamers were making their way through the Maui-Molokai channel towards Honolulu. The air was clear, almost Rocky Mountain clearness--an unusual condition for Hawaii.

A mile from the top we collected a large bunch of fire wood for use during the night. The wood probably weighed one hundred pounds--fifty pounds each. In a half an hour it had increased to four hundred pounds. We began to lighten our packs. We reached the summit with five pounds each. The last half mile took one hour. The air was rarefied and we had to stop every few hundred feet for breath. The trail, beside being much steeper than heretofore--if such a thing were possible--was covered with sand, causing us to slip back a foot for nearly every step we took.

Suddenly the view of the great crater burst upon us. It is a sight I shall never forget. We had reached the top of the trail and were walking along a low wall of rock towards the mountain house. We came to a break in the rock and in an instant Haleakala appeared before us.

Imagine a hole in the top of a mountain. Let this hole be twenty-seven miles around and from two to three thousand feet deep, the sides abruptly sloping. Scattered over the level floor of this hole, picture twenty extinct volcanic cones or craters, the smallest forty feet in height, the largest about a thousand. This, in brief, is Haleakala. The sight is a grand one to-day, with all the craters extinct. What must it have been a thousand years ago when, according to geologists, Haleakala was active and the great crater was one mass of flame and liquid rock?

We spent the night in the mountain rest house. This small stone cabin is provided for visitors to the summit. We curled up in our blankets--but not to sleep. The fireplace balked and the smoke went everywhere but up the chimney. We stood it as long as we could and then concluded that we would rather freeze than be smoked to death. We threw the fire outdoors and spent the rest of the night in a cold but smokeless cabin. A bucket of water in the room was frozen over with ice a half inch thick. We didn't sleep a wink.

In the morning we saw the greatest of all sunrises--a Haleakala Sunrise. The great crater had filled with clouds during the night. In the grey morning light one could imagine that he was looking over an immense body of water. Clouds had settled around the mountain so that the view of the ocean was shut off. We seemed to be standing on an island with clouds all about us. The first rays of the sun were caught up by the mass of mist in the crater. In an instant the great pit was turned into a sea of fire. Back and forth flashed the light as it was reflected through the abyss of fog. In three minutes it was all over. As the sun rose the clouds began to take flight, like giant birds, and in a few minutes the crater was empty.

We rolled rocks over the edge and watched them go bounding down the two thousand foot slope to the floor of the crater. When a boulder in its flight struck another, imbedded in the side of the mountain, pieces dashed up like a fountain and the noise was like the muffled discharge of a cannon.

It only took us a little over four hours to make the twenty miles back to Paia. We scarcely felt tired that evening, but the following morning I thought I was a hundred years old. The constant pounding of our heels on the hard trail affected the muscles in the back of our legs and for two or three days we could hardly walk. If human beings ever have springhalt, we surely had it.

We returned to Honolulu by the _Mauna Kea_. All went well in the steerage and we arrived in the morning. Instead of going to the wharf, the ship anchored at the quarantine station. We thought this was something unusual and one of us asked an officer the cause. Bubonic plague, one of the most feared of all diseases, had appeared on Maui--only two cases--and all the steerage passengers were to be landed at quarantine and inspected by the port doctor before being allowed to go ashore.

We were steerage by environment but not by heredity. Within two minutes we had business in the engine room. We tarried there a brief moment and went on deck--the first-class deck. Every one was in a rush and our appearance was not even noticed. We knew several of the passengers and at once entered into conversation with them.

Soon the ship's boats were lowered and the first-class passengers--and two steerage--were landed at the wharf. In ten minutes we were on shore, two travel-stained, tired and lame, but cheerful looking tramps. Haleakala was a wonder. It was worth travelling steerage to see--even worth taking a chance on the plague.