Friday, January 29, 1909.
—It's nine o'clock, and Henry and Wada and Tehei are asleep on the deck for'ard. It is Henry's turn at the wheel, but I'm supposed to be on the lookout. It's such a fine night, with nearly a full moon, and so warm and cool at the same time that it seems there could be no more perfect a night than this. A four-knot breeze and an uncommonly quiet sea, and not a cloud.I am wearing a lava-lava only, and feel as if I'd like to discard it—not from heat, but it seems wicked to wear anything such a night as this. Those two mystical islands we have been heading for ever since we left the Solomons are just ahead about five miles—Belonna and Rennell. In an hour we will have to go about on the other tack to keep from cutting off a few hundred feet of Rennell. If I had my way, I should heave-to until morning, then go ashore, for these people are the most primitive in the world—no stranger has ever reported setting foot ashore here, unless a man named Stephens, who, when we left Sydney, was just getting up an expedition to visit these p352 two islands, has been here by now. I am anxious to see Stephens about it.
But what a night! I can't get over it. The sails are just drawing comfortably, and there is no sound except the swish of the water around the bow as we cut through it. It seems as if millions of stars are trying to help the moon in making things lighter; and the Southern Cross is just overhead. Henry has gone to the wheel, and sits gazing at the stars and singing South Sea songs—now of Samoa, now of Hawaii, and now of Tahiti, taking me back to the good times we had in those islands. The Snark really needs no steering to-night, but someone must be at the wheel.
And this is my last of the South Seas for perhaps a long time, perhaps forever. Those tall cocoanut trees on Rennell, which we can plainly see, are the last links of the islands. The next trees we see will be of the white man's country. I'm almost sorry to get back, although the last few months among the South Sea islands have played havoc with the crew of the Snark. My legs have scars that will never disappear—a sure sign I am not welcomed here. Yes, it is better that we are leaving.
Sunday, January 31, 1909.
—Well, I'm contented now, for I've seen the wonderful natives of Rennell, and this is how it happened. Yesterday morning, when I came on deck, I found the Snark too close to the shore of Rennell to be comfortable, and it was not a nice shore to see, either, for the whole coast seemed p353 to be jotted with rocks, and the sides of the island were nearly perpendicular. I called the captain and we went about, having decided it would be better to go around the island from the other end, for the wind was dead ahead the way we were going and we were making more leeway than anything else. So we sailed along the coast all morning, and right after dinner Henry discovered a canoe putting off to us. We backed the head-sails and waited for them. There were two natives in the first canoe, and right after them came a canoe with three natives. The canoes were well-built Polynesian outriggers, and larger than any I've seen, but the natives, big, brown-skinned, long-haired fellows, none under six feet in height, and all muscle, were the strangest yet. Each had a short spear with a long bone point—very fine pieces of work. Two of them had big iron-wood clubs. The largest, most intelligent fellow, whom we found to be the king, was seated in a curious chair, made to fit into the canoe. After they had got aboard, I collected the five spears, two clubs, and the chair together on the skylight, then took a half-tin of biscuits, a few fish-hooks, several strings of beads, four old files, a broken sheath-knife, and the hoop-iron off an old water-cask; and putting my things in a pile next to theirs, offered to trade. They jumped on my things with a whoop. I made some photographs of them. They did not object, but I know they didn't catch on to what I was doing, for they wore a look of wonder during p354 all the time I was photographing them. One thing that particularly struck me was the fine white teeth they all had, and their hair would have made any girl proud.All the time they were aboard, they were trying to make me understand something that excited them. They would shout and throw their hands in the air, and jump around the deck, frightening the captain nearly into fits. He would have nothing to do with them, but sat on a box with a gun in his hands throughout their stay. But they did not know what a gun was. I am always interested in this kind of people, so tried to talk to them, as did Henry, but it was the first time I've seen him unable to use the few words he knows. The natives would have nothing to do with him or with the others, for they were too near their own colour, but I was white, and therein lay a great mystery. All the time they jabbered and pointed ashore. As near as I could make out, they wanted us to go in and anchor; but I would not get in among such a crowd of savages for anything, though I should have liked to see their women.
They wore only a small loin-cloth, made from the bark of a tree, and no other ornaments. They were tattooed all over with designs that were new to me and the king had a small ring of shell in his nose.
They finally got so excited that the captain was frightened, and to make them leave he pointed his gun at them. But they only grabbed for it, thinking p355 it was a present. The iron and brass work interested them the most. They would feel of it and try to break pieces off, and the boats they examined all over, making queer noises at everything they could not understand. Finally the captain got so aroused that he could stand it no longer; he told me to start the engines. While I was getting it ready, five excited faces watched me through the skylight, but as the first gas explosion came, those five excited faces vanished. Our visitors had jumped overboard into their canoes, leaving behind the things I had given them in exchange for their spears and the chair. Also, they had left two strings of porpoise teeth (worth about £2 in the Solomons, where they use them for money). I kept the porpoise teeth, but the other things we wrapped in an old oilskin and threw into one of the boats. I went below and threw on the clutch, and when I came up, I saw the five men fighting over the old iron I had given them. They fought and squabbled, and dropped the biscuits overboard into the water, apparently not recognising their value. One, to whom I had given a stick of tobacco, had tasted it, and finding it nauseous, had thrown it away.
We steamed ten miles into the passage between the two islands; then I stopped the engine and we slowly drifted through. At sunset a canoe followed us for an hour, but we drifted too fast for them, and they gave it up when about five miles from shore. I'll wager it was a tired canoe-load of natives that put in p356 to land last night, for they had to paddle hard against the current.
The captain seems to have a notion in his head that we mustn't make any speed. What his reason is, I don't know.
To-day we are calmed about twenty miles off the islands, and it's hotter than sin. The tar in the deck is melting and bubbling up through the seams, so that a person feels as if walking on molasses, when compelled to walk.
Saturday, February 13, 1909.
—The day after we cleared Rennell we were struck by a southeast squall, which settled down into a gale that lasted for four days—the most miserable four days I ever spent on the Snark. Rain, wind, and combing seas all the time! The seas were so high that it was no use trying to beat against them, so we just lay and pitched and rolled, with the seas breaking on the deck all the while, until every stitch of our clothing was wet through. Oilcloth and rubbers are useless against such weather. The salt water would get below, in spite of all we could do. We had the skylights and hatches battened down, too. Only the staysail remained set. The fourth day we tried to set a jib, but it was carried away, and the main jib-boom stay broke off, so we were in danger of having the flying-jib smashed, but we made it solid with watch tackles, and when the wind had settled a little we hoisted the mizzen double-reefed, and another jib. We soon had to lower the p357 jib, and Henry, instead of taking it on deck, lashed it to the jib-boom, and in one night it was torn to threads by the constant plunging into the seas. Now we have only a small storm-jib left to take us into Sydney.The fifth day, the wind let us, but we still had the heavy seas. On trying to make a little sail, we found the rigging on the mizzen-mast to be in bad condition, and it took all hands a day to repair it. Then the gooseneck on the staysail broke, and as we have no other, we patched it up with ropes. On raising the mainsail, the throat-halyards carried away, and when they were repaired, the peak did the same. A good stiff wind and the heavy seas continued, so we dared not put on full sail, but have been creeping along under double-reefed main and mizzen sails and have not attempted to set the other jib. This old captain is certainly afraid to make sail, for during the last few days we could easily have had reefs out of the sails and the jib set; but as the barometer is still low and he does not like the look of the leaden sky, he will not do it. He and I had a hot argument a few days ago because I wanted more sail put on, and he informed me that he was captain, and for me to tend to my own business—so that is what I am doing. But I know we could be a couple of hundred miles to the south if he would not be so careful. Henry is madder than a hornet; says if we stop anywhere south of Sydney he will go ashore, for he does not want to work for p358 such a timid old man. But he couldn't do what he threatens, for the authorities would not allow a dark-skinned man ashore.
Henry has a fit of grouchiness, so he is snappy and growling all the time. Tehei is so homesick that he can't be cheerful. Wada is cheerful enough; but take it all in all, it is mighty unpleasant company.
Here we are only about three hundred and fifty miles from the Solomons, and we've been out eighteen days, with sixteen hundred miles yet to go, and Wada says there are only provisions enough for ten days more, by economising; and it's not the best of grub, either. Salt-horse, sea biscuit, tinned salmon, beans, rice, and about twelve pounds of tea. More of the captain's folly, for he does not know how to stock a vessel of this kind. At first, when we left the Solomons, I did not know that there was not plenty of provisions, or what poor stuff it was, for I was living on fruit and fish nearly all the time; but now the fruit is gone and the fish that we catch are the deep-water kind, dry and tasteless, and only fit for soup or for eating raw.
I hooked an enormous shark a few days ago, but it broke a large iron hook—a foot long and of 3⁄8 inch iron. It was all of sixteen feet long. Tehei says that's the reason that we don't get fair wind—the shark is hoodooing us.
Sunday, February 14, 1909.
—Last night we rolled about on the swells of a calm, and we all felt better, p359 for surely by morning the wind would freshen, and it would be a northeast wind, for that's the wind that should be blowing at this time of the year, but up to now it's still calm, and the little wind that is blowing is from the same old direction—southeast, and it's hotter than blazes.I'm commencing to chafe under so long a spell of hard luck. For awhile I did not care, but to-day I've been looking over old pictures of home, and home postcards. But one thing is certain—I'll be home in less than one year now, probably before another Christmas. I'll leave Australia as soon as I can get away from the Snark. A short time in Europe, and then home.
I don't think I've mentioned a dog Mrs. London got off the wrecked Minota in the Solomons—a scotch terrier, only a pup when she came aboard, but grown since to full size. All aboard liked to play with her. She would sit and cock her head to one side while a person talked to her. Even the old, grumpy captain liked to play with her. During the heavy weather last week, Peggy could not walk on deck without being thrown from one rail to the other, and I think possibly she was injured internally; and with the lack of fresh food and exercise, she died. Mrs. London will feel bad about it, for she told me to take particular care of Peggy—that she was going to take her back to California. Now it seems as if one of the crew were gone, and the naturally superstitious Kanakas are mumbling that it is a "no good" sign. p360
This morning I caught a small shark—six feet four inches—but threw him overboard again, for the Kanakas were too lazy to cut him up; and after cutting up one shark, I never want to tackle another. Besides, it's so hot that no one wants to exert himself. No wind, so no one is needed at the wheel. Everyone is stretched on deck, under the boats or in the cockpit.
Sunday, February 21, 1909.
—To-day is like last Sunday, only more so. No wind, plenty of sun, and the pitch runs cheerfully down the deck-seams. Last week we had some pretty fair weather that would take us along at six knots for as long as half a day, then the eternal flap, flap of the sails again. One day we made a hundred miles, but from seven to forty was the run on other days. Sharks are getting thick around us—so thick that when we try for other fish, these brutes swallow our bait. Then we have to hook a tackle to them, and heave on deck to get our hook and line back again. One day we caught three while fishing for dolphin. It's interesting to find the miscellaneous assortment of fish in their stomachs. Often, the fish will be still alive. But we get other things besides sharks. Other fish are plentiful, too. Henry speared a five-foot dolphin, and Tehei catches two or three twenty and twenty-five-pound bonita every day with his pearl shell hooks. If we happen to have a little headway at night, flying fish will come aboard, and if I can find them before the Kanakas, I have a good p361 breakfast. But if they see them first, they pull off their wings and head, and eat them raw. When a bonita is pulled aboard, while it's still flopping on deck, the Kanakas will slice out a few steaks and start eating—very much to the disgust of the captain.And nearly every night we take on a few passengers—big reef-birds that have flown too far from their homes, and have come aboard to rest. They will get in the life-boat or on the stern-sail, and tuck their heads under their wings and pay no attention to us, unless we try to touch them, and then they will give a sharp peck which is not pleasant, for their long beaks have edges like a saw. In the morning they go away hunting for fish; then at night I think I sometimes recognise the same birds back again.
We are now under regular deep-sea discipline, with watches the same as on a full-rigged ship. This captain is not used to sailing a small vessel like this. Probably he would be all right on a square-rigger, but he makes entirely too much fuss here. Henry and I come on watch at six o'clock until eight; then the captain and Tehei until twelve, midnight; then Henry and I until four; then the captain and Tehei and Wada until eight. Wada goes below to prepare breakfast, and at eight Henry and I go on until noon. Then the captain and Wada until four. Wada takes the wheel from two to four every afternoon, then Henry and I the first dog-watch to six. Now, we do not need a lookout here in the open sea, where there are no steamer routes, p362 and with such a long time on deck at night, one must get some time for sleep, so of course it must be gotten in the daytime; and the consequence is that we don't get any work done on deck, and it's precious little I can do in the engine room.
The most serious thing now is the grub. It's running pretty low. The potatoes and onions are all gone. We have enough rice and beans for about ten days longer, with eleven small tins of meat for variety. The sugar is all gone, and we have enough graham flour for a week. It's so full of weevils that I don't care how soon it goes; but we have enough sea-biscuit (also full of weevils) to last several months; five gallons of molasses, and two hundred cocoanuts, so I guess we won't starve. And then, fish are very plentiful, but I do hope it will not come down to a fish diet, for I'm sick of them already.
Tehei, Henry and Wada take turns about being sick, but the captain makes them stand watch just the same. Tehei is useless when he is the least bit sick. He will sit at the wheel in a daze and cannot possibly steer closer than a point to the course; which makes the captain furious, as he watches the wake zig-zag like a serpent astern. He will let loose a round of adjectives that I have difficulty in understanding; and of course Tehei cannot understand, but he knows he is in some way to blame, so he sits up and looks wildly about to see what is wrong. Captain often curses the weather, the wind, the Snark, and everything he can p363 think of that keeps us from getting to Sydney any faster; then Tehei sits up again to see what is wrong this time, for he thinks that of course, whatever it is, it must be his fault.
We are twenty-five days out to-day, and just half-way; the kerosene is nearly finished, so we are sailing along without sidelights.
And the captain swears, the Kanakas growl, Wada feigns sick, and I keep hunting in different lockers hoping to find something to eat.
Sunday, February 28, 1909.
—Thirty-three days out to-day, and the grub nearly gone. Our five-gallon can of molasses proved to be only an empty tin, so now we have only weevily hardtack, half-spoiled beans, and tea. We find that soaking the hardtack in tea for fifteen minutes will bring most of the weevils to the top so that they can be skimmed off. But the beans are hopeless. They are eatable, and that's all. The fish have deserted us, too; but as poor as eating is, it will keep us alive for a couple of weeks, if necessary. But we might go into the Clarence river to-morrow, if we do not get a fair wind. If we get the wind, we could make Sydney in three days, but it's a nasty head-wind now, and we are only pitching up and down and not going ahead. Clarence river is twenty miles away, only three hours, if I had gasolene; but what I have will only run about five miles, and that will be needed to take us through the bar.Since last Sunday we have had a fair wind for two p364 days, which set us along one hundred miles a day. Then, when everyone had visions of a square meal in Sydney inside of two or three days, the wind shifted and blew a stiff gale for two days. We put double reefs in the mizzen and mainsails, and a single one in the staysail, then put on our oilskins and settled down to two days and nights on deck, with only a few hours' sleep. Everything wet, and no food. Imagine our tempers! Yesterday the sea and wind quieted down, but we still have the head-wind. The sky is clear, however, and the barometer has gone up; so we are hoping.
Tehei is quite surprised at the number of steamers in this world. Every day, from ten to twenty pass us, going all directions, and Tehei wonders where they all come from. A revolving light from a big lighthouse twenty miles ashore also makes him wonder. I'm going to have a good time with him in Sydney.
Friday, March 5, 1909.
—At last we are at anchor in Sydney Harbor—thirty-six days from the Solomons. It seems mighty good to get an all night in, and something to eat. Sunday night, we got a stiff squall from the northeast, which settled down into a steady wind, taking us along over one hundred miles a day—the best we had since leaving the islands.Wednesday evening, at five o'clock, I started the engines just outside the heads, and we steamed up the p365 harbour faster than the harbour regulations allow, for we wanted to catch the doctor before six o'clock and be allowed to land; and we were lucky enough to catch him as he was leaving a steamer just in from China. He passed us all. Then we proceeded up the harbour and anchored in Rose Bay. The customs officers soon came aboard; then a boat-load of reporters. I did not care for reporters, for I was hungry; so Tehei, the captain, and I pulled ashore. The captain took a tram for Sydney, while I hunted up a grocery store, and loaded myself down with provisions—all I could carry. Tehei was supposed to stand by the boat, but I found him, wild-eyed, watching the trains.
Thursday morning we got a tug to take us up the harbour, for my gasolene tanks were so near empty that I was afraid of the engine's stopping before we got up, all of which would have caused us no end of trouble. We anchored at Johnson's Bay, only fifteen minutes from Sydney by ferry. Jack and Mrs. London and Nakata came out in the afternoon and were glad to see everything all right—except Peggy. Mrs. London felt very bad over her dying. I went to Sydney with them, to the Australian Hotel. I took Tehei, who had the time of his life on the ferries and trams and elevators. Nakata took him out for supper, and I ate with Mr. and Mrs. London. I was a strange spectacle, with two months' growth of hair, nearly over my ears. But Jack made me come with p366 them; and if he could stand it, I knew I could. Everyone else was in evening dress, for the Australian is the aristocratic hotel of Australia! And the way I did eat! and Jack piled more and more in front of me. He said he knew how good fresh food tasted after a long sea-trip. Then we took Tehei to the Tivoli Theatre (vaudeville), where he amused the audience by his open appreciation of each turn. But the moving pictures were his greatest delight. On the way home, we got an immense watermelon; and after we got to the Snark, he woke Wada and Henry, and the last thing I heard was Tehei telling them about it—and the first thing in the morning.
Now people are coming aboard to look at the Snark, and she will soon be sold. I shall remain until another engineer takes hold; then I shall go to Europe and home.
· · · · · · · · ·
From the time of our arrival in Sydney with the Snark, things moved swiftly to their conclusion. When a couple of weeks had gone by, and a new engineer had been secured to take charge of the boat, the day came for me to say good-bye to the genial people with whom I had journeyed for so long. It was hard, but it had to be done. One consolation, however, I had. Some day we should see each other again. The Londons and I were residents of the same country; and the Tahitians would probably be found as long as they lived somewhere in the confines of p367 Polynesia. And of course, Wada and Nakata I should meet at some future date in Honolulu.
Poor Jack and Mrs. London! They were quite broken-hearted at giving up the cruise. They could speak of nothing else. At the last, after having said good-bye to the Snark and to those aboard, I went up to take dinner with the Londons at the Australian Hotel.
We said little in parting. There was nothing to say. Our grief at the break-up of the little Snark family was too deep for words. For two years, through savage seas, we had fared together; comforts and discomforts, good luck and bad luck, all had been borne together. And now it was at an end. The cruise of the Snark was a thing of the past.
The time came for me to go. We shook hands, promising that we should meet again in America. Then I turned and walked very slowly from the room. p368
POSTSCRIPT
So ended the cruise of the Snark. Henry, the Polynesian sailor, left Sydney on March 30, 1909, for Pago-Pago, Samoa. A week before, Tehei, the Society Islander, had gone with a sailor's bag full of gaudy calico, bound for Bora Bora. Wada San, the Japanese cook, sailed on April 11th for Honolulu.
Martin Johnson left Sydney on March 31st, on the steamer Asturias, after an unsuccessful attempt to join the South African expedition of Theodore Roosevelt. His letter did not reach Mr. Roosevelt until after all preparations for the trip had been made, when it was of course too late to consider his application.
The Asturias stopped for several days in Melbourne, Adelaide, and Perth, as well as in Hobart, Tasmania. Then it proceeded up through the Indian Ocean to Ceylon; thence through the Arabian Sea to Aden; and from there up the Red Sea and through the Suez Canal to Port Said. At Port Said, Mr. Johnson made another effort to get in communication with the Roosevelt party, but found that they had left three days before. Passing through the Mediterranean to Naples, Mr. Johnson left the Asturias, and spent some days viewing Rome, Pompeii, and other interesting historical spots. His next objective was Paris, where he arrived in June. Here he secured a position as an p369 electrician at Luna Park, but not long after, feeling a desire to see his home again, he crossed the channel to England. At Liverpool, early in September, he stowed away on a cattle-boat, and after a trying thirteen days arrived in Boston, the only member of the Snark crew to make the complete circuit of the world.
Mr. and Mrs. Jack London took Nakata, the Japanese cabin-boy, and sailed on a tramp steamer for Ecuador, South America. They arrived at their Glen Ellen, California, ranch in June. Mr. London found his native climate most healthful, and though all three were frequently brought down by attacks of fever during the ensuing six months, his mysterious ailment soon disappeared, and his hands regained their normal appearance. Ralph D. Harrison.
Most of the illustrations were located on un-numbered pages, and were listed as "facing page xxx", and followed by a blank page. The blank pages were eliminated. Illustrations that split paragraphs were moved to nearby spots between paragraphs. In the html version only, most of the images link to larger versions by clicking on the word "larger" just above the image. The original printed page numbers are shown like this: "p131".
The cover image included with some versions of this book was made by the transcriber, partly by combining images from http://archive.org/details/throughsouthseas00johnrich, and has been placed in the public domain.
The words "graphophone" and "graphaphone" occur each several times.
Page viii: changed "Santa Cruz Croup" to "Santa Cruz Group".
Page xi: "photograhic" changed to "photographic".
Page 13: "have never see" to "have never seen".
Page 28: "un-understand" to "understand".
Page 68: "Long. 139°—22′ 15″." to "Long. 139°—22′—15″."
Page 73: The figure originally facing page 73 "Leper Band at Molokai . . . " is in the List of Illustrations said to be facing page 132, and that does indeed fit the context better. Therefore the illustration has been moved to page 132.
Page 146: In "Another remarkable think about"; "think" to "thing".
Page 214: In "paddled past as and bombarded"; "as" to "us".
Page 331: "Pendufffryn" to "Penduffryn".