CHAPTER IX

SOME SOUTH SEA ROYALTY

The islands that we are familiar with as the South Sea Islands are properly called Oceania. Oceania is divided off in four distinct parts, known as Polynesia, or the eastern islands; Australasia, or the southern islands, including Australia; Melanesia, the islands lying to the north and west of Australia; and Micronesia, which lies to the north and west of Melanesia. The characteristics, the languages, and the customs of the people of each distinct division have no similarity.

The Polynesian people are supposed to be descended in mixed line from the Spanish and original Tahitians. It is certain that they have a strain of white blood in their makeup, for they have none of the negroid characteristics found farther west. They are a quiet, easy-going people, whom it would be hard to disturb. Their colour is a light reddish-brown, and they have black eyes and hair and well-rounded, intelligent faces. Very seldom is one of these people angry. It must be something out of the ordinary to arouse their anger, but when once aroused, they lose their heads entirely, they make no discrimination between friends and foes, and they are best given a wide berth until their fit of temper has passed.

Among the inhabitants of any community, will always be found some characters of sufficient strength and uniqueness to distinguish them from the herd. In the South Seas, they are usually chiefs, or old retired sea-captains and beach-combers, who hold this position in the Australasian, Melanesian and Micronesian sections, but in the Polynesian section the place of honour unquestionably belongs to Helene of Raiatea. Hers was the greatest power, though it was not a vested one. She seemed a true South Sea queen.

Raiatea is another island of the Society group, and Helene's home. She was the most prominent personage in these islands, and a typical Polynesian. I had ample opportunity to study her--her every mood and whim. Helene of Raiatea was known to all successful traders, and we were advised to be pleasant to her, as the success or failure of many a trader has depended on the smiles or frowns of Helene of Raiatea. It is needless to say that we took the advice, and invited Helene to be guest on board the _Snark_. Helene had no royal blood, nor was she of chieftain stock, but many a chief or king had less power than she.

She had been born with more energy than the average Kanaka, and a constant mingling with the white people had given her ideas above her class. A little over the average height, her figure was admirable. Her skin was a light olive colour; she had two perfect rows of teeth and a brain that seemed never to be still.

We had heard of her in the Marquesas Islands, and I was anxious to make her acquaintance. During the hard fight getting through the Paumota Archipelago, we had forgotten about her. On the first night ashore, as I was walking about the town in company with the captain of one of the German schooners, my mind was on other things. Life was gay in Papeete. There were singing and dancing in the streets, accordions everywhere, girls and boys strolling hand in hand or eating fruit on the sidewalks. We had paused in the centre of the market square, where life was the merriest. Young people would stop their games to see who that strange person was and what he was doing in Papeete. I felt self-conscious as I moved along, the cynosure of hundreds of pairs of eyes. Of a sudden, a white-clad girl from the throng laughingly grabbed my hand, and as if to ask a question, she said: "_Iaorana_, Missionary," which means: "Hello, Missionary." With these people, everyone is a missionary until they find out otherwise, and they always greet a stranger as a missionary when he first lands. The captain with me explained in their native tongue who I was, and then I seemed to be taken in as one of them. Helene drew us to the side of the street and made known that I could buy her some flowers and fruit, and the captain and I squatted on the sidewalk and ate watermelon, while she chattered away, asking questions of the captain as fast as he could answer them. Several other girls halted enquiringly, and Helene with a gesture told them to be seated with us. Then I bought more flowers and fruit, and I commenced to wonder if I was not "getting my leg pulled," until I paid the whole bill and it amounted to something like ten cents. As I had never had such a good time on so small an amount of money, I got generous, and nodded to another group of girls to join us, but I saw Helene frown at them, and they turned away. This was the first I saw of Helene's power, but later on I observed that the white people as well as the natives treated her with vastly more respect than the ordinary Kanaka ever got.

On the day after I first met Helene, I had occasion to go to Lavina's Hotel, where the Londons were staying. I found Helene seated on the _lanai_, trying to make Jack understand what she was saying. When I came up the walk, she jumped to her feet, and said, "_Iaorana oae_" and I noticed that she no longer called me missionary, nor was I ever called missionary again. I'm sure I never gave any of them cause to mistake me for a missionary; in fact, after the crew of the _Snark_ had become acquainted in Papeete, I'm afraid the real missionaries did not approve of our keeping open house to the natives. But the good-natured, hospitable people did us so many favours and were constantly making us such generous presents of fish that we made them welcome whenever they wished to visit us. They would bring Jack bunches of their cooking bananas from the mountains; and then Jack would lay down his writing, pass around cigarettes, and talk to them. We easily picked up their language, for it is so simple that little effort is required in its use. Through the kindly services of Ernest Darling, the Nature Man, and Helene, we soon were talking without any difficulty. The Tahitian language has only about fourteen letters in its alphabet. There are no singulars nor plurals, no modes, no tenses. Every letter is pronounced. We were able to speak intelligibly after a little practice.

Helene was an every-day visitor at the bungalow belonging to Captain Y---- and myself, where she would wear only the native _pareu_. This was allowable, as we lived outside the centre of town. Had we been resident closer in, the French government would have forced all the native girls who came to see us to wear _au-aus_. At times, Helene would bring certain of her friends to the house, for they were always sure of finding tobacco there. As I have said, all through the South Seas the girls smoke as much as the men, and think nothing of it, for the habit has been with them since the very introduction of the weed. And now it has such a hold on them that no worse punishment could be inflicted on these people than to deprive them of their tobacco.

One day while Jack was in California, Helene came to the house wanting to borrow a dollar to buy medicine to take to her mother. The French physician stationed here charges one dollar to take a case, and for that will supply the medicine and attend to the case until the patient has no further use for him. A small lugger had just come in from Raiatea, Helene's home. The captain had been instructed to return at once with Helene and the medicine, and I was at the beach that afternoon when the boat sailed. I must say that I was glad that I had sailed on a nice big boat like the _Snark_, instead of on one of those little luggers. Raiatea lies over a hundred miles away from Papeete. And the boat was so small that none of the fifteen passengers could go below. But Helene did not seem to be afraid, and in ten days when she returned, she brought a couple of dozen big watermelons, for she knew that watermelons were the best present she could give us.

One Sunday, Helene and I decided to go out buggy-riding, thinking that we could make some good pictures. Early in the morning, I went to the stable, and was assured by a big, lazy Kanaka that in one hour he would send me the best he had, and I wondered what it would be, for all I could see was an old cart, a broken-down hearse with the glass sides smashed in, and a buggy made of parts of a wagon and another buggy. At present it had one wheel off. But in two hours I found out. When I went to the gate, I saw the Kanaka beating a poor, starved horse which would not move out of a walk, and which stopped by our bungalow. Well, we drove, I think, about five miles that day, when the horse refused to go further. The top fell off the buggy, and the harness broke several times. But anyway, we got some fine pictures.

On one of the regular trips of the steamer _Mariposa_, while getting my hair cut by the ship's barber, as I sat in the chair I noticed several pairs of ladies' shoes in boxes on the shelf. I don't know what use the barber had for them, but it gave me an idea, and as soon as I could find Captain Y---- I told him of it, and then we hunted Helene and took her aboard and fitted her out with shoes and stockings. It was laughable to see her strut around Papeete that day. The shoes hurt her feet, for she had never worn shoes before. None of the native girls in Papeete had ever worn shoes. That night she walked around the market square so long that soon she was limping. Next day she was again barefooted, and I never saw the shoes again. In that she was like all the natives, childish; they are anxious for something new, but soon tire of it when they get it.

I would sit for hours telling her of the rest of the world; of circuses, of trains, of tall skyscrapers. She would listen as quiet as could be until I had finished, and then ask questions. But it was not until a man with a moving-picture machine came to Papeete that I had the delight of seeing the height of her enjoyment. At one end of the square, an enterprising Frenchman built a frame building which he called "Folies Bergere." Here every Saturday night he gave moving pictures. I took Helene, and Captain Y---- took Taaroa, another native girl. I never enjoyed a show so much in my life. I secured seats near the front, in such a position that Helene would miss none of it. From the first picture to the last, her face changed from expressions of astonishment and delight to horror and fear. The whole audience was in the same state of excitement. There were reels of film showing large cities and railway trains, and magic pictures that none of these people had ever seen the like of. It was many a day before the natives could understand that it was not supernatural. And with my meagre knowledge of their language, I was hard put to explain to them how it was done.

They were like frightened rabbits when the fire department came charging down the street. When the swift-rushing teams got close, looking as if they would plunge out of the screen and into the audience, screams went up and there was nearly a panic in the house. How they laughed at the comic films! But the last thing was supposed to be the devil in hell, pitching people into the fire. Since seeing that, they were afraid of the least sound. Afraid of the _deipelo_, they said; and we could not convince them that the picture was not real, for, they argued, if it was not real, how could anyone take a picture of it?

When Jack came back from California, we learned that we had been lost at sea, and that the _Snark_ was a very unseaworthy craft, anyway. Throughout the States, newspapers and magazines had persisted in reporting us dead, every last one of us. I was told that an Oakland bank had even begun an agitation to wind up the affairs of Jack London, deceased. And of course the prophets of disaster had welcomed this evidence of their own amazing foresight, this news of prophecy fulfilled.

The engines of the _Snark_ were still giving us trouble. The big one was just like a watch that seems all right, but won't run. It looked in fine condition, but often refused to start, and developed a hot-box on some one of the four cylinders when run for any length of time.

One night, along in the early part of March, Captain Y---- came to me and asked me to stay on the _Snark_ for him for a little while. Away outside the reef was a ship, just barely to be seen, that was shooting skyrockets and cannon, as an evidence of distress. It was thought to be one of the Maxwell trading schooners, one month overdue from the southern Taumotu islands. A little gasolene schooner was chartered, and Captain Y---- and some others went out to it. It was not the trading vessel after all, but (to my great surprise) the Chinese war-junk _Whang-Ho_ which I had been aboard of in California. They were sixty-eight days out of Frisco for New York; but the _Whang-Ho_ was never intended to be handled by modern sailors; she had been blown to Papeete, leaking badly--the men, we afterward found out, had been obliged to pump her night and day. There were eight in the crew, all Americans. Captain Y---- went aboard, and made them pay one hundred and twenty-five dollars to be towed in. Once safe on land, the men swore they would go no farther in the ancient junk.

The natives watched the _Whang-Ho_ with considerable awe. Never had they seen anything like it. Certainly, the ship was the strangest thing afloat--great eyes were painted on her square bow, the Chinese thinking that a boat needs something to see with. The big galley aft was painted yellow, and the tall, tree-like masts were brilliant red. I believe the _Whang-Ho_ had once been in royal service in China.

Speaking of royalty, I think Ernest Darling might well be called the King of the Open Air. He never lives indoors--if he can help it. While at Papeete, we learned his story, and an interesting story it is.

Twelve years before, he had been lying on a deathbed in Portland, Oregon. It seemed that nothing could be done to save him. He was a wreck. The doctor told him what had caused his breakdown. Overstudy, was the medico's verdict; overstudy had put the final destructive touch on a constitution already broken and enervated by two attacks of pneumonia. His body was irreparably wasted, and his mind was fast going.

Ernest Darling lay on that bed of sickness, awaiting inevitable death. He could not bear the slightest noise. Medicine drove him desperate. The day came when he could stand it no longer. He tottered from his bed, escaped from the house, and crawled for miles through the brush. Here, in the silent spaces, close to nature's heart, he found rest and quiet. He bathed in the soothing rays of the sun, stripping off all clothing, clinging close to the moist earth as he bathed. Life, full and free, seemed to flow into his veins as he lay there. The sun was the real life-giver, he thought, noting his relief; that, with the balmy air, was all that he needed.

For three months he lived thus. He built him a primitive house of leaves and grasses, roofed over with bark. No meat passed his lips--only fruits and nuts, with occasional bits of bread. Every day he put on more weight, and the intolerable agony of his nerves subsided.

But at the end of the three months, the heavy rains forced him to return to Portland and take up once more his abode in his father's house. Then came the relapse. He lost all he had gained. A third time he grappled with pneumonia, and came out of the struggle nearer death than ever. His mind collapsed utterly. Ernest Darling was tried by alienists, found insane, and told that he had less than a month to live.

They took him to an asylum, where he was allowed to live once more on fruits and nuts. Again strength came to him. Leaving the sanatorium, he got a bicycle and went south to California, where he attended Stanford University for a year, going to his classes as simply garbed as possible. When winter came, he was obliged to head further south. Several times he was arrested and tested for his sanity.

Finding that no one would let him alone, and not desiring to end his days in either an asylum or a jail, he made his way to Hawaii. But there was no relief for him. Here he was given his choice between leaving Hawaii or going to prison for a year.

Darling went to Tahiti. And there, at last, after all his wanderings and harassments, he found a haven. The Tahitians and French neither jailed him nor questioned his sanity. He spent his days in the open, on a tract of land he bought, near Papeete; and his food he picked from his own trees. When in town, he was busy in such simple shopping as he found necessary, or in expounding the principles of Socialism, in which he was a devoted believer.

We had lived in Papeete three months and a half before everything was ready for us to start again through the islands. We had decided to visit the island of Moorea first, then, on a special invitation from Helene, we were going to Raiatea.

Before leaving Papeete, we got a new sailor, a French boy named Ernest. Ernest was signed on the French bark _Elizabeth_ as ordinary seaman. When our captain offered him a job on the _Snark_, he ran away from the French ship, and lived on fruit in the mountains until she had sailed, when he came down and joined us. He was eighteen years old, spoke little English, and was an all-around sailor. He had been round the world twice. He was very tall--one inch taller than I was--so that he was likewise obliged to stoop when he went below.

We were three hours and forty minutes getting out of Papeete Harbor and dropping anchor in Moorea Bay. On this trip, the engine ran perfectly; and it is hard to say which was the most pleased--Jack, Mrs. London, or I. I took Mr. and Mrs. London ashore in the launch, then came back and went to bed with a terrible headache, and did not have time to get a good idea of the bay until next morning. It is about three quarters of a mile wide, by one and a half long, and reminded me very much of Taiohae Bay in the Marquesas. All around range the mountains, ragged peaks with the sides one mass of green, with cocoanut palms half way to the top. The beach was a jungle of palms and bananas. With the glass, we could count as many as seventy cocoanuts on one tree. All day I painted the engine room, and that night walked with Ernest two miles along the beach to the village, which consisted of three Chinese stores and a bunch of grass houses.

Along the way we met Kanakas, looking very cool, dressed only in their _pareu_ cloth.

"_Iaorana!_" they all greeted us, and with some joke passed laughingly on. When we got aboard, I started the searchlight, and turned it on the huts along the beach. The Kanakas would come out and watch us, and some of the _vahines hula-hula'd_ for us. In the glare of the light, I could see Jack and Mrs. London eating in the open-air dining place of MacTavish, a white man, who boards any person who ever drifts to Moorea.

Next morning, I took the Londons out in the launch to make photographs; but in an hour the launch-engine stopped, and I had to land them, while I repaired it. I had it in good running order again in an hour.

During our stay, Kanaka men and women and girls paddled out, and we let them aboard. Great was their curiosity at the electric lights. One Kanaka wanted to turn them on and off so much that I had to switch the current off at the engine room, so that the lights went dead; but they could hardly keep away from the five-horse-power engine, which I ran most of the time in order to fill the storage batteries. I took some of the girls out in the launch, to their almost frantic pleasure. I towed an outrigger canoe with two girls across the bay, and as quick as they could paddle back they wanted me to do it again.

Darling, the Nature Man, and Young, a Socialist, had accompanied us. It was amusing to see Darling splash along shore in the shallow water, catching fish. At times he lay in the shade of a tree, resting. When a crowd of natives gathered around him, he would jump up and yell like an Indian war dancer, which performance always doubled the natives with laughter. They all like Darling, and he likes them. He told us that he knew he would be making a fool of himself among white people, but that he liked to amuse the Kanakas. Darling was full of energy--much different from the wraith of a man who had lain on his bed in Portland, Oregon, looking forward to nothing but death. He chopped wood for Wada and made trips up the mountains after fruit. He had the deck lined with half a dozen different varieties of bananas.

The next day I spent in reading and sleeping, except when I took the launch to go watch the Kanaka boys fish. They first catch a small fish among the coral banks, then bite out a chunk for bait; then another chunk, which they eat. I have seen them eat fish raw, just as they were pulled wriggling from the water. But usually they soak them in vinegar before eating. Raw fish is the favourite dish among the Kanakas. I tried to develop an appetite, but I fear I made no startling success.

We were a week at Moorea; then a casting on the engine broke, making it necessary for us to return to Papeete. It was just before we started back that a long canoe, filled with men and women, paddled past us and bombarded us with oranges until the decks were covered, then paddled away, its occupants laughing and shouting. Darling said the oranges were to pay us for being so good to them. The Moorea orange is nearly green in colour, and tastes the same as the California variety.

We had difficulty in getting away. I had a short circuit on the wires that I was puzzled to find; but when we were finally able to start, I beat my record coming over by forty-five minutes.

Arrived at Papeete, it took two days to put the machinery in order again. We then set sail for Raiatea. It was on April 4 that we cleared Papeete Harbor. The usual large crowd had assembled to see us off. After getting about five miles off the reef, I stopped the engine, which was running splendidly. We sailed all night with a fair breeze, and in the morning sighted Huahina, which we steered for, but kept one mile off the lee shore until we had left it far behind. Soon Raiatea was sighted. Its ragged peaks looked at a distance the same as Tahiti or Moorea. When about twenty miles off, I started the engine. We got through the reefs and anchored in the bay by seven o'clock.

On account of engine repairs having delayed us, Helene had given up our coming, and had gone to the mountains to visit relatives. But she heard that we were in the bay, and next day we were honoured by a visit from her. She came out to the _Snark_ in a small canoe, and invited us ashore to her home. Jack had promised us every night off while at this island, so Ernest and I took the launch for shore. We took a five-mile walk along the beach and up the mountain to her mother's house. Along the shore, grass huts were built on stilts over the water. Kanakas sat, or rather squatted, all along the road, and each greeted us in the native tongue. We found the house away back among the mountains, a long, low grass house, with a huge waterfall made by a mountain stream in the rear. Oranges, limes, cocoanuts, papaias, guavas, bananas, and several kinds of fruit I cannot spell the name of, were thick for miles up and down the valley. We found Helene, her mother and her father, and several other members of the family, and were given a hearty welcome. Ernest talked French, Helene and her mother, Kanaka, while I used English, French and Kanaka--and we all used gestures. Her father could speak only the native tongue, and was an ordinary Kanaka. Her mother was a typical Tahitian. So I have never been able to understand why Helene should be so far above her class. Her environment had been no better; it must have been some strength of character, some intrinsic worth, that elevated her in station and in mind. Anyway, she proved that she was a person of authority on her own island when she ordered a big feast prepared in our honour, and the natives gathered with roasted wild boar and gave an imitation of their old-time "long-pig" feast.

We stayed at Helene's home until one o'clock in the morning. We remained four days on the island. Helene came to the village, to stay while we were in port. Later, we took a daylight trip to her mountain home, in order to enjoy the natural beauties. The scene from the waterfall was great. We had viewed some wonderful scenery in the Hawaiian and Marquesas Islands, but nothing to compare with this. There was not a sign of cultivation anywhere--everything in its wild natural state; and as for fruit, it was everywhere in abundance, buds, blossoms, half-ripe and ripe fruit on the trees at the same time.

Before going further with the voyage of the _Snark_, and while the _Snark_ is still anchored at Raiatea Island, I want to tell of the comic opera war that once occurred here.

The natives of Raiatea, tired of the French system of government, pulled down the French flag, and raised the flag of England. They put the French officials then living in Raiatea adrift in open boats. These people made their way to Papeete and informed the governor, who had never seen any more active service than strutting around the streets of Papeete, and did not know what to do in such an emergency. The governor went to the British consul stationed here, and demanded that he cause the natives of Raiatea to lower the British flag. Now the British consul was only a figure-head, and had never attended to any duties other than signing pratique papers for the British ships that came here. Sometimes as many as two or three a year dropped anchor in Papeete. The rest of the time there was nothing to do. So now he was nonplussed. Long debates took place. At last it was agreed that both governor and consul should go to Raiatea and put down the rebellion.

The French man-of-war _Zelle_ transported them to Raiatea, and the two officials landed under the white flag of truce. The chiefs received them, and the two emissaries demanded that they raise the French flag. The chiefs refused, and gave the officers half an hour to get back to the ship. Then the warship shelled the village; but by that time all the natives had made for the brush; and finally, after five or six days' shelling, the sailors landed again and lowered the flag without opposition, for the Kanakas had realised that their fight was useless. But the funny thing about the whole business was that for at least four days the warship had been shelling an empty village.

The islands of Raiatea and Tahaa are in reality one island that has been cut through the middle by some volcanic disturbance. The distance from Raiatea Island to Tahaa is less than seven miles. The tides often sweep through here with such force that small canoes have spent days getting across the channel. Just as we were preparing to sail from Raiatea Island, a tiny outrigger canoe with a big sail hove in sight. In it was a big, almost naked Kanaka named Tehei. He invited Jack and Mrs. London to take a ride in his queer craft, an invitation they cheerfully accepted. They went over to Tahaa, the island seven miles away, and stayed two days, fishing and hunting. On their return, we set out with the _Snark_ through coral reefs where a hundred feet either way would wreck us. At Tahaa we picked up the Kanaka Tehei and his wife, with two canoe-loads of fruit, a pig, chickens and _poi_. Jack informed us that Tehei had begged very hard to be allowed to go with us to the island of Bora Bora, our last stop in the Society Islands, and that he had yielded to his solicitations. Indeed, Tehei had wanted to go clear to Samoa, but to this Jack shook his head. Tehei had brought his wife, Bihaura, along. To her, also, was given permission to go with us to Bora Bora. Tehei and his wife returned to their house, and early next morning, with a light wind, we crossed the lagoon under power to the point where Tehei and Bihaura were to meet us. As we made into the land between banks of coral, we could see Tehei among the trees, running down toward the beach. He was afraid we would not see him, so he pulled off his shirt and waved it as he ran. Once aboard, Tehei informed us that we must proceed along the land until we got opposite his house. He took the wheel and guided the _Snark_ through the coral, and we reached the beach. Here was another offering of fruit and fowl, two more canoe-loads awaiting us.

All the time that the fruit was being loaded in the cockpit and aft the cockpit, piled up to the railing, I had been letting the engine run free without the propellers in gear; the old engine had never worked better, and Jack was just commenting on how smoothly it was running, when it gave a mighty backfire and stopped, and in a very dangerous place, for the currents were running very swift through here and there was no wind that we might sail by. The crew on deck, with the help of several Kanakas, braced the long oars that we kept for the life-boat, and eight oars worked an hour while I toiled at the engine and finally got it running just as they were nearly exhausted. I threw the clutch into gear again, and with Tehei at the bow to look out for coral reefs, we slowly threaded our way out of countless reefs projecting only a few inches above the surface of the water. Canoes skimmed over the water ahead, showing us the way through the reefs.

Tehei was invaluable. Had it not been for him, I do not believe we would ever have gotten out of that maze of reefs. Now that I have a chance to think over that day's work, I don't believe that I ever had so much experience crowded into a single day before.

With the engines running smoothly, I would go on deck and look over the rail, down on remote bottoms where fish of every hue and colour played among the dense forests of coral. Islands were on every side of us, high rugged peaks, some of them a hundred miles away, and near us small low atolls covered with a riotous growth of cocoanuts. The day was perfect--very little wind, and with the awning stretched over the decks and all sails furled, we slid over the smooth surface of the water straight for Bora Bora. After we left the coral reefs behind, Tehei and Bihaura lay down on deck and went to sleep. Jack and Mrs. London were at work grinding out reading matter for the American public, the rest of the crew were asleep in their bunks, and I sat on the edge of the open skylight and divided the time between watching the engine and gazing over the dozens of small islands.

This was the real South Seas that I had read about, dreamed about, and had never expected to see. Numerous small canoes would put out from the islands and try to board us, but we moved too fast for them, and after paddling till they were out of breath, they would drift back.

At noon dinner was served on deck, entirely of fruit and raw fish. Then everyone went to sleep again, except Captain Y---- at the wheel and myself at the engine. About three in the afternoon the engine started backfiring and knocking so that I was kept in the engine room the rest of the day. With every backfire, the cylinders would lose gas until the engine room was almost unbearable to work in. But if we were to get to Bora Bora that night, I must keep busy with them. Our engine was a seventy-horse-power Twentieth Century, with four cylinders. I would run on two cylinders until they got hot, then turn them off and turn on the other two, and so kept up the hardest afternoon's work I ever did.

It was close to nine o'clock when we reached Bora Bora, and by that time I was nearly dead; but I kept working on the engines. I was doing the only thing possible, though the last few hours seemed a blank to me. The people on deck knew nothing about engines, so they could not help me. They were unaware that I was nearly dead below. I think that during the last hour some power diabolical must have got hold of the engine. I lost consciousness and fell on the floor, and knew nothing till the big gong working in the cockpit gave me the signal to stop the engine. I aroused myself long enough to throw the switch and crawl through the hatchway; then I knew nothing more until several hours later, when I found Mrs. London bathing my face in cold water and the Japanese chafing my limbs with coarse towels. I was certainly near death's door, nearer than I can ever get without actually dying. They told me afterward that my heart was barely beating.

And I think I realise what it must be to be dead, for the only memory I have of that awful period is that I thought I was dead. The gas gave me a queer roaring sensation that seemed like some unearthly music; and had not the gong sounded when it did, I fear it would have been all the music I should ever have heard. How I roused myself enough to shut off the power and get on deck, is a mystery to me now. Many times, even after the lapse of several years, I awaken with that queer feeling of dying, and always I seem to be aboard the _Snark_. It was barely midnight when I gained consciousness, to hear the sound of music and of singing floating across the quiet lagoon.

Next morning I was still weak, so I did not clean my engines as I usually did after a long run, but went ashore to see the life of Bora Bora.

The whole island rose up to entertain us, and the good people gave us ten days of the best time I ever had. Tehei's wife was of royal blood, and her influence caused the natives to make special effort for our entertainment. The night after our arrival, Tehei invited Jack, Mrs. London, Captain Y---- and me ashore, where we had a dinner such as surpasses description. Fruits prepared in every way a true Kanaka likes, sucking pig, chicken fried in cocoanut oil, watermelon, and raw fish! This last is one of the choicest of South Sea dishes. The fish, freshly caught, are cleaned and soaked an hour in lime-juice. It is delicious. Although we could speak very little with the Kanakas, we enjoyed watching them, and they enjoyed watching us.

After the meal, we went to a large oval, bamboo missionary-house, and watched an old Kanaka missionary drill what he called his _himines_. A score of girls, decorated with flowers, formed a semi-circle in front. Back of these stood the Kanaka men, and behind them the boys. Their music was more like grunts, but the wild, weird noise made my blood tingle. The boys kept swaying their bodies with the song and clapping their hands, at times beating themselves on the chest and chanting. This finished, a surprise was in store for us. Natives came in with chicken, watermelons, vegetables, fruit and fish, and made a pile that two boats the size of the _Snark_ would find difficulty in floating under. Then a big Kanaka got up and presented it to us. Jack thanked them, but had to decline the greater part, for want of carrying capacity. Even as it was, our deck looked like a market.

Bora Bora is a marvellous island. Twenty miles in circumference, it is surrounded by dozens of smaller islands, each in turn surrounded by its own coral reefs. From our deck, I could count eight of these small islands, some only a few acres, others about three or four miles around, all covered, save for the sandy beach, with a thick green jungle of tropical trees. We were twenty-five miles from Raiatea and one thousand miles from Samoa.

Only three persons on the island could speak English. There were half a dozen frame huts; all the rest were of grass, or bamboo. The natives wore nothing but the red _pareus_, or breech-clouts.

We were anchored a half-mile out, but the launch made the trip to the beach in a few minutes. The whole deck was covered with awnings, and we ate and slept on deck. The three engines were running all right, though it kept me pretty busy attending to them; it took a good deal of electricity just at that time, for the fans were running almost without intermission, and I had connected drop-lights on deck, whereby we might see to read or write at night. The natives were unremitting in their attentions. They came out by canoe-loads, bringing us food of various sorts--that is, all but the women, who found the ship "taboo."

Bora Bora was the most primitive place we had yet visited. All along the beach, the long outrigger canoes were propped up on logs cut out for the purpose. The beach itself was sown thick with forgotten graves. On the morning of the third day, Tehei came aboard, and informed us that he had planned a mammoth stone-fishing for us. It was to be the biggest in the history of the island. Runners had been sent to the interior of the island and around the coast. These men were telling every inhabitant of Bora Bora about the stone-fishing; and in the afternoon the people began to gather in the village, and that night we were invited ashore to a big entertainment, gotten up on the spur of the moment. We were given seats on the grass in the centre of the village green, and around us squatted brown-skinned and black-haired men and women and girls and boys. They would sing their weird, barbarous tunes and keep time by swaying their bodies and gesturing with the arms. Then a few of them would dance, while the crowd cheered--not such dances as we see in civilised places, but something so strange and indescribable as to arouse the disbelief of some who have never travelled in the South Seas. They would dance so slowly that they would scarcely be moving; then away they would go, like a mad whirlwind. The crowd urged them on. Finally, the dance would cease as abruptly as it had begun, while the dancers would sink down exhausted. On going aboard the _Snark_ late that night, Jack remarked on the contrast between their easy, care-free lives, and the artificial, wearing lives of the so-called civilised people.

Early next morning we were awakened by the conch shells, signalling for the people to gather at the beach. This conch shell is used by heralds all through the South Seas. Once heard, the sound is never forgotten. I brought back a number of these shells, when I returned to America.

Going on deck, I saw canoe-load after canoe-load of natives putting off from the beach, and among them a big double canoe paddled by fourteen girls. Two men sat in the stern to steer, and on a little platform at the bow, dancing and singing, were Tehei and Bihaura. They had borrowed our large American flag, and had it waving at the bow. This canoe-load of the belles of Bora Bora came alongside the _Snark_ and received Jack and Mrs. London, while Captain Y---- and I followed in the gasolene launch. I had nine kodaks and cameras arranged in the launch, so that I could use any one I wanted and use it quickly. From the _Snark_ to the place of the fishing was about three miles. Riding in the launch, I often caught up with the other canoes, then stopped the engine and drifted back again, and sometimes I circled round the big double canoe. Jack once asked me if I did not wish I were among that bunch of girls, and he thought he was getting the better of me, until I ran alongside and three of the girls jumped in the launch, after which I sped on, with the laugh on Jack. The girls had never been in a motor-boat before, and they held on for dear life. The launch outdistanced all the other boats, arriving at the place of fishing half an hour before the rest.

After all the canoes had beached, the ceremony began. Tehei assigned to each of the fishers his or her duty; then nearly one hundred canoes, each with a couple of men, paddled out from the shore about three miles. And then, at a signal, the boats, which were spread out in a long line, moved slowly toward the shore, one man paddling and another rattling strings of shells in the water, and all yelling at the top of their voices. The men who paddled the canoes splashed as much water as possible, while their companions rattled the shells, the object being to frighten the fish toward the shore, where the water was shallow. They gradually closed in as they moved shoreward, while girls with nets of leaves waded out in readiness to close in on the canoes. The boats were an hour getting near the beach. As they approached closer and closer, the girls formed a palisade of their legs, and made a net of leaves. And Tehei, armed with a spear, stood in the corral formed by the girls. He was to kill the first fish, and it was to be presented to Jack London, along with the spear and an invitation to kill as many as he might want. Such is Polynesian hospitality. Tehei proudly made ready for the initial slaughter. But the canoes drew closer and closer, and Tehei rubbed his eyes in wonder. Then he dropped the spear. There were no fish to kill. Tehei hunted for fifteen minutes, and then, satisfied that there were no fish within that human palisade, he turned to Jack, the most forlorn looking person in Bora Bora. He was ashamed of himself, he was ashamed of the rest of the natives, and he was ashamed of the fish, and of Bora Bora. The poor fellow felt so humiliated that Jack hastened to invite as many as could crowd aboard the _Snark_ to join us in a feast that night. This they were not slow in doing. That evening we fed them hardtack and tinned salmon, which they washed down with good old Holland gin. When they left, they declared that they had never had such a good time before.

And so the days passed in this land of abundance. Every day we were surrounded by canoes, anxious to see the _Snark_ and her white crew. The natives were too polite to come aboard the _Snark_ without being invited. One day, when I was drowsing lazily on deck, close to the engine room hatchway, so that I could keep one eye on the dynamo engine, which was chugging away filling the storage batteries for that night's run of lights and fans, and the other eye on the water, a big Kanaka paddled up close in his canoe, and asked politely if he could come aboard and peep--just peep--below into the engine room. Mrs. London, sitting on the rail, pointed to a big watermelon in the canoe, and made known to the Kanaka that I was inordinately fond of watermelon. Immediately, the native passed over the melon to me, and I took him below. His astonishment was supreme at the maze of machinery, lights that turned on and off at will, and the most wonderful thing of all, fans! Then I started the big engine for him, and he left the engine room with his head in a whirl.

That afternoon, canoe-load after canoe-load of watermelons came off to the _Snark_, and each time I would exhibit the engine room; and once, while a crowd of natives were on deck, I gave one two live ends of electric wire. With a yell he jumped overboard, and after that they were careful not to touch anything that I had aught to do with.

Bihaura, being of royal blood, had houses in several of the adjoining islands. The one in Bora Bora was her headquarters. One day while at her home, I noticed a large eight-day clock hanging on the wall. It looked as if it had not run for years. Examining it, I found that all it needed was cleaning, so I took it aboard and put it in good shape. Then I hung it again on her wall, and started it running. It was the only timepiece on the island. The natives would peek in at the door and watch and wonder. Next day, a Kanaka stopped me, with about half a dozen old clock wheels that he wanted me to make into a clock. I fell several points in Bora Bora estimation when I was forced to acknowledge that I could not tinker the old wheels into an effective clock: but next night I regained what I had lost when I made the graphophone talk.

Jack had taken the machine ashore, and was playing to several hundred people in the _himine_ house, when the rachet spring slipped out of position, making it impossible to wind the machine. Jack send aboard for me, and I came ashore and straightened the spring in position, a thing Jack could have done had he thought of it. But he didn't think of it--and immediately I was restored to high favour among the Bora Bora natives.

After ten days of this delightful life, it was time for us to go. On the day of sailing, the natives tried to outdo all their previous generosity, piling the _Snark_ knee-deep with abundance of fruit, chickens, vegetables, fish, and other good things. There were yams, taro, cocoanuts, limes, bananas, papaias, pineapples and pomegranates. The life-boat, the launch, and the deck were piled full. And when, at one o'clock on the afternoon of April 15, 1908, we set sail from Bora Bora, hundreds of natives came to the beach to shake our hands, and to wish us a safe voyage and a quick return.

We were genuinely sorry to leave. Our hearts' roots seemed to have found grateful soil in Bora Bora. The place is a happy paradise; and the life is one to envy. Everything seems to work for good to the natives. If a man's house gets old, and he wants to move, he need only spend a few days gathering palm-leaves and bamboo; then his new habitation can be built in a day. The man of Bora Bora need not cultivate his land--Nature does it for him. The earth bears prosperously, a hundred times more than can be eaten. What has civilisation to offer that can sway the balance of one's judgment in its favour?

When we sailed from this happy island, we carried with us a new member of the crew. Jack had yielded at last to Tehei's pleas, and had consented to allow him to go with us. Bihaura was taken back to Tahaa by six lusty Kanakas in a cutter.

We made our way straight out of the reef. It was a great relief to me to be able to be on deck, viewing the scenery, instead of down in the engine room. Tehei proved a valuable helper. He was a full-blooded Kanaka, thirty years of age, and could speak no English, but none the less, he was able to understand Captain Y---- 's orders. For the first day and night, however, he spent most of his time weeping and praying, for he was unused to leaving home, and moreover was seasick.

I stayed on deck all afternoon, taking my last look at the Society Islands. We were now bound for the Samoan group, a ten-day run as we figured it. The _Snark_ was so thickly packed with presents of all sorts that there was hardly room to walk, even though every toss of the boat sent bushels of oranges, bananas, and other fruits sliding into the sea. When I went to bed, the island we had so lately quitted was still visible.

On April 19, we were calmed. The sails flapped, the _Snark_ rose and fell with the swell of the ocean, but we made little progress. That night Jack read to us an article he had written, entitled: "The Other Animals"--a reply to President Roosevelt and John Burroughs, who had charged Jack with being a "nature faker." Jack had intended to make no reply to the charge, but a big American magazine kept after him so persistently that he could not refuse. On the 20th, I spent some hours painting the engine room and the engines. These latter I coloured dark brown, with the pipes red; the walls I made a yellowish-brown, and the dynamo black. I then polished all the working parts like a mirror. And when I had finished, I called in the crew, for I knew that seeing the ship trim and shipshape always encouraged them. The next day I put in in developing and printing pictures for Jack. Nakata, Jack, Tehei and myself wore nothing during this time but _pareu_ loin-cloths, and the rest garbed themselves as simply as possible, for the heat was overpowering. It did not prevent our boxing, however--Jack and I had five rounds in the evening, and I got a cut lip and he a scraped nose. Jack is an expert boxer, but I had the advantage on reach. While I was busy below, the men on deck painted everything above white, and looked to the condition of every shroud, halyard and timber. As Captain Y---- said, the little ketch had "put on her glad rags."

Everyone slept on deck, Jack and Mrs. London on the starboard side, Ernest, Nakata, Wada and Tehei on port, mid deck, captain aft the cockpit, and I slept away up in the bow. The southeast trades made life bearable on these hot nights; while we could not feel them on the sails, we could feel them on our faces, blowing gently and fitfully. Before going to bed on the night of the 25th, Jack read to us his latest Story, "the Chinago," the scene of which was laid at Papeete. The night before we had heard "The Seed of McCoy."

The small crew of the _Snark_ was now getting to feel more at home on water than on land. We were getting into the thickest of the South Sea islands; every mile we moved toward the west was bringing us among more primitive people.

The wind was so light that we moved along very slowly. The sea was almost as smooth as a mill-pond, and we progressed with all sail set wing-and-wing. There was very little work to do on board except to keep watch. We would lounge around on deck and eat fruit or play cards. Mrs. London had brought with her a small instrument from the Hawaiian Islands, a _ukelele_. This instrument is seldom seen outside the Hawaiian Islands, for despite its sweet tones, no other nation has taken up its use.

Mrs. London would play and sing in the evenings, while Tehei and Wada and Nakata would do their native dances. Sometimes Jack would read aloud his day's work. And all the time we were sliding west thicker into the heart of the South Pacific. We enjoyed this part of the cruise very much indeed. Jack had tops and skipping ropes aboard the _Snark_. The ropes gave us much needed exercise; and we all took boyish pleasure in spinning the tops. I have seen Jack London squat down and spin his tops by the hour, thoroughly absorbed in the fun. He said that this, like his cigarettes, soothed his nerves.

We were thirteen days from Bora Bora when we sighted the Manua Islands, with the largest island in the group straight ahead. The Manua Islands really belong to the Samoan Group, and are usually charted as such; but the three small islands, about one mile apart, are nearly one hundred miles from the Samoan group proper. The natives are the same class of people, and they speak the same language.

When Germany and England and America decided to stop quarrelling over their property in the South Seas, representatives of the three countries met at Apia, Samoa, and England agreed to take over some western islands, and quit the Samoan group entirely. So the group was divided between Germany and the United States. Germany kept the two large islands of Upolu and Savaii, while America took the large island of Tutuila and the small Manua Islands.

The natives objected to these powers coming here and taking possession of them; and for many years there was continual warfare in the German section. The United States had no trouble in the island of Tutuila, but in the Manua group, the old king at first refused to acknowledge their sovereignty. Old King Tui-Manua made a trip to the United States, and after that he gave up the fight, for he saw the hopelessness of his position; his one thousand subjects in the Manua Islands could be wiped off the face of the earth in a single day. Old Tui-Manua was wise enough to submit; and he now governs the islands with nearly as much authority as he had before. The United States did not want the islands for the sake of ruling them, but they wanted a coaling-station at Tutuila.

We sighted the largest island, known as "Au," early on the morning of the thirteenth day from Bora Bora. As the wind was still very light, I set the engines to work, and by noon we were under the lee of the island, gliding along about one mile from the shore. A person who has never been in the South Seas cannot appreciate the pleasure of gliding along a tropical bay, just close enough to see the small grass villages and the dense jungles behind; the seas breaking over the coral reefs ahead, and the pure blue waters underneath; the tropical birds flying overhead, and canoes paddling along the shores. And with the exception of the rumbling of the sea over the reefs and the chattering of the birds, everything is still and peaceful.

Such were the conditions as the _Snark_ moved along looking for an anchorage, but the coast seemed straight, and unindented by a bay suitable for anchoring; and the reef running outside and all along the coast kept us from getting very close to land. Finally, we slowed down until we were scarcely moving. We were undecided what to do; but suddenly a shout went up from the shore, and a big whale-boat was pushed down the beach, and as it touched the water, a score of natives jumped in. After fifteen minutes spent in getting across the reef, they headed for the _Snark_.

I have often thought what a fine cinematograph-picture that boat would have made, as it was tossed right and left; first its bow would seem to be pointing toward the sky, then down it would come while the stern went up. When the boat came alongside the _Snark_ the natives were nearly exhausted from their hard work. They would not come aboard for a long time, but sat holding on to a stern-rope, trying to make out who we were. Tehei could not speak their language, and they could speak no English. We tried to tell them that we were looking for an anchorage, but it was not until Jack took several of them forward and pointed to the anchor that they understood. Then with a whoop they made fast a line from our bow to the stern of their boat, and with every one of the natives yelling at the top of his voice, we were towed into anchor close to the reef. The men, not knowing of the engine, felt that the only way for us to get in to shore was for them to tow us. We stowed everything, and after we had come to anchor we were surrounded by canoes of the oddest shapes. Jack and Mrs. London climbed into the big boat with the natives, and soon were ashore, but the rest of the crew remained on board to get things shipshape after the two weeks at sea. I got my engines in trim; then I bribed a native with a sack of Bull Durham tobacco to take me ashore in his one-man canoe. I say "one-man canoe," for their canoes are made to carry from one to a dozen men, and they are not safe with a single man more than they are built to carry. We got safely across the reef, when a wave broke over the boat, and we sank--and it was up to me to swim ashore while a hundred natives, standing on the beach, cheered; and it was their willing hands that drew me from the water. It was a rather embarrassing introduction to the natives of the Manua Islands; but I was such a funny figure when I surveyed myself that I had to laugh, too.

The natives crowded around me and laughed heartily at my condition, and one took me by the arm and led me to a large house in the centre of the grass village. The natives followed until they were a dozen feet from the house, when they stopped. Jack and Mrs. London, hearing the noise, came out of the house, followed by a tall, stately looking man, dressed in a white coat and _sulu_. There could be no mistaking this man: he was the king. The natives all bowed and salaamed, while I stood between the natives and the king, uncertain what to do. My clothes were a sight, drenched with salt-water. After a glance at me, the king and the Londons broke out laughing; then I had to laugh again; and then all the natives started laughing, and one, separating himself from the throng, stepped up and told the king about my adventure. I could not understand him, but I knew by his gestures that he was talking about me. Then the king motioned for me to step up on the porch, and we shook hands. Turning, he called for the queen to come out. She was an intelligent, fine looking woman, with excellent manners. After shaking hands, she called for the servant, and ordered that their native drink be brought. A pretty little girl came with _kava_ in cocoanut shells; and after a toast by the king, we drank it down. It had a queer, bitter taste, but I managed to swallow it. I afterward found that I could not have offended the king worse than by not drinking the _kava_ at one gulp. I was lucky in doing it just right. Jack and Mrs. London sat down on the porch, and left me with the king and queen. Now, I was not used to being entertained by royalty, so I did not know how to act. But I was relieved of a painful situation by all the natives rushing off to the beach, whither the king and queen followed them. The Londons and I went likewise; and we saw a small schooner drop anchor close to the _Snark_. She carried an English flag, which dipped in response to a salute from the _Snark_. Then they lowered a boat, and a white man was rowed ashore by a dozen native sailors. When the man landed, he shook hands with the king and queen, and spoke to them in their native language; after which he turned to us and spoke in English. He was the captain of the schooner and also the owner. Though he did not tell us his story, we afterward found it out.

Captain Young had come to the Manua Islands when a young man, had opened a trading station, and married a sister of the king. They had one daughter, who grew up to be the belle of the islands. Young had all the people in her favour; not that they were dissatisfied with Tui-Manua, but they were one and all fascinated by the beautiful girl. Tui-Manua got hold of a rumour that he was to be dethroned, and Captain Young's daughter was to be instated in his place; so he forced Young and his wife to leave the island. They lived on one of the other islands for nearly a year, when the girl took sick; and when she found she was going to die, she asked leave to die on her native soil. Tui-Manua, hearing of the case, allowed Captain Young and his family to return. The girl died, and Young erected a big monument over her grave. Now, while the king and the captain seem to be friends, they are constantly in secret fear of each other.

Tui-Manua invited us three from the _Snark_ and Captain Young to stay for supper. We had new dishes that I was unfamiliar with, and we drank _kava_, while we were waited on by the king's servants; and afterward, when it got dark, the king ordered a big fire built in the centre of the village, and native men and women danced and sang for our entertainment, the while we sat with the king on mats thrown on the ground.

Next day, I went around the village making photographs, and going in and out of the natives' grass huts. In one place I found a tattooer working on a boy; and he asked to tattoo me, but to his great disappointment, I refused.

With the trader as interpreter, Jack made the king understand that we wanted to buy curios. The king sent runners to collect the entire village, whom he told to be on hand next day with things they wanted to sell. And next day Jack and Mrs. London and I stood in the centre of several hundred natives, buying mats and war clubs and tapa cloth; and I was lucky enough to secure a big, bushy grass fan, with which a native had been busy keeping the flies off the king. It has the king's name on it, and it is now reposing in the midst of the other things I brought home with me from the South Seas.

We lay anchored off the island of Au several days, while, in company with the king and queen, we were shown over the island by Captain Young. The day we prepared to leave, the king and queen gave us presents--one of the most valuable of these an extra fine piece of tapa cloth, which I still retain.

The day we left Au, the king and queen came off to the _Snark_ and had dinner with us. Wada did gloriously, cooking for royalty, and Nakata was more polite than ever; and as we heaved anchor that afternoon, the boat bearing the king and queen circled the _Snark_ three times, its occupants singing "Tofa-Mai-Feleni," the native song of farewell.

Tui-Manua is the descendant of a long line of the most powerful South Sea Island kings. His father's authority stretched for thousands of miles around, and whatever he said took precedence over anything said by any of the lesser kings within this boundary. So it is rather humiliating to the present king to have to bow down to another power stronger than he. He is afflicted by a peculiar disease that is wasting his life away; and ere long we will hear of his death. The last of the true royalty of the South Seas will have passed from earth. I have met members of many of the South Sea royal families since then, but none deserved the name of king so well as did Tui-Manua.