old flag—the Stars and Stripes—was run up at the peak, and the waiting band played "Hail Columbia," followed by "Home, Sweet Home," responded to by many moistened eyes and quickened pulsations of the heart. As we glided away our forecastle gun barked forth a sharp, ringing farewell which was echoed back a score of times by the mountain gorges.
CHAPTER III.
The Samoan Islands.—A Unique Race of Savages.—Diving for Money.—A Genuine Samoan Mermaid.—German Aggressiveness.—A South-Sea Nunnery.—A Terrible Disease.—Christianity vs. Paganism.—Under the Southern Cross.—Grandeur of the Heavens at Sea.—Landing at Auckland.—A Stormy Ocean.—The Famous Harbor of Sydney.—England and her Australian Colony.—The Modern Eldorado.—Early Settlers.
In our course southward we made the islands known as the Samoan, or Navigator's group, and stopped to land the American and European mails at Tutuila, which is about two thousand three hundred miles from Honolulu. The six islands which form this group of the South Pacific lie between the Society and Feejee groups, three of them being among the largest in Polynesia. Their names are Savaii, Upolu, Tutuila, Manua, Manono, and Apolima. Savaii has a circumference of a hundred and forty miles, and is literally covered with forests of tropical trees from shore to mountain-top. Upolu measures nearly fifty miles from east to west, and is the most fertile and populous of the group. Apolima is the most remarkable for its cones and craters, giving unmistakable evidence of former volcanic action, by clearly-defined vents and fire-shafts among its hills. There are few rivers on these islands, but Upolu and Savaii have several crystal lakes among their mountains. Gales, cyclones, and earthquakes occur quite often enough to vary the monotony. We have said that there are six of these islands; there are also others, scarcely more than islets, however. The highest land in the group is on Savaii—a lofty peak in the middle of the island, the top of which is nearly always hidden in clouds.
Tutuila was the island which was first sighted, and as it lay sleeping upon the bosom of the southern ocean it presented a beautiful picture of tropical verdure—an oasis in the great desert of waters. And yet it did not present a very inviting aspect by its wave-lashed and rock-bound shore. It was calm weather—that is, comparatively so; but there is always a long swell in these latitudes, which when it meets the impediment of shore or reefs is sure to express its anger by a wild display of force.
The island is remarkably mountainous, but the foliage rose to its lofty sky-line, and came down to where the breakers chafed the coast with tremendous fury. There was the azure of the sky, the deep green of the vegetation, the light blue-green of the shoal water, and the snow-white spray tossed high in air, to vary the richness of the coloring, which was finer than that of Oahu. We were told of a safe landing-place in a sheltered cove, and made out the slender spire of a wooden church, but could not see any opening in the long line of dashing spray which leaped twenty feet high as each successive swell broke upon the rocks. Just behind them the palm-groves, bananas, and cocoanut-trees formed a dense breastwork, flanked here and there by low native huts, grass-thatched and brown. In no other region does the cocoanut-tree thrive in greater luxuriance and fruitfulness than here; and were it not that the natives are so lacking in enterprise, this product alone might be made a very large source of profit. The deep green foliage of the bread-fruit all along the shore indicated the abundance of this natural food-supply of the islanders. Together with the yam and taro it forms their main support. The last named is called the daily bread of the Samoans, just as the poi forms the main sustenance of the Hawaiians.
The Samoans are fine-looking specimens of the savage races of the South Pacific. The men are broad-shouldered and athletic, the women by no means ugly, and certainly graceful. They have very little if any of the flat nose and protruding lips of the African race. Their complexion is a light brown, "the livery of the burnished sun," the women exhibiting a warm rosy hue upon their smooth, well-rounded faces. The bodies of both sexes are more or less elaborately tattooed in blue.
If tattooing constituted costume, of which in fact it takes the place here, the Samoans would be gorgeously clad, as they certainly excel in this respect the Maoris of New Zealand. This sort of savage ornamentation with the latter people is more confined to the face, which the Samoans neglect only to be more elaborate upon the limbs and body. It is really surprising to what pain and inconvenience the barbaric races of the Pacific Islands put themselves in order to gratify their vanity and conform to local fashion. The process of tattooing is a slow agony; but the laws of fashion are as imperious in the Cannibal Islands as upon the Parisian boulevards. The tedious and painful operation of tattooing is performed by professionals, who make a paying business of it. The skin is punctured by an instrument made of bone, or by spines of the shaddock-tree, while the dye injected is usually obtained by boiling the candle-nut. Among some of the Pacific tribes tattooing is considered religiously binding; by others it is adopted purely for fancy's sake.
The men wear their hair twisted up in little spiral horns, reminding one of the natives of the coast who meet the steamers at the mouth of the Red Sea, and who exhibit the same aptness in diving for silver coins. The women wear their hair rather short, and are given to dressing their heads and necks with flowers—a similar fancy to that already described as connected with the Hawaiians. The missionaries have taught the women when they are on shore to wear a small strip of cloth with a hole in the centre for putting over the head, and which hanging down back and front partially covers the otherwise exposed bosom. About the loins they wear a breech-cloth like the men, and sometimes a short skirt reaching half-way to the knees. We were told that the women are fond, on all gala occasions, of painting their faces with any pigment that is obtainable. Our observation of both sexes was obtained chiefly as they came off in their boats to the ship, which they always do in scores; and those we saw were nearly in a state of nature. The yellow and abundant hair of the men must be colored by some process known only to themselves; for though they wear nothing to protect their heads, the sun could not so bleach it. At one time our decks were crowded with these savages, offering for sale curious shells, fruits, native-made ornaments, especially necklaces formed of a dried scarlet berry.
Apia, the capital town of Upolu and the metropolis of the group, presents an inviting prospect from the sea, and the whole island in its general conformation is the most notable of them all. The foot-hills lie quite back from the shore, rising one green elevation behind another, until the great central mountain range is reached, which has an elevation of some four thousand feet above the level of the surrounding waters. All of these hills and the top of the highest elevation are clothed in ever green vegetation, flanked here and there by exposed and abrupt cliffs, bare, rugged, and grand, standing like giant sentinels defying the power of the elements. In the distance, upon a mountain side, is seen a thin silver thread, sparkling in the sun's rays, stretching downward from the heights, which we were told would prove to be a clear, never-failing cascade of water could we approach near enough to discover its real character. It forms the source of a small river, which courses its way to the sea. Many a ship comes hither and anchors, to fill her water-casks from this crystal spring. The town, including its two meeting houses and many European cottages, was half-hidden by the trees, while the water between the ship and the shore was alive with small native boats full of naked islanders, men and women, ready to sell carved clubs, spears, and canes of native wood.
Of the many boats that came off to meet our ship two contained some remarkable swimmers and divers. The most expert among them all was a young woman, who by her rapid movements in the water managed to secure fully half of the sixpences and shillings which were thrown overboard for the divers, though there were numerous competitors of the other sex. She always came to the surface smiling, with the silver between her teeth; and after shaking her head like a Newfoundland dog, and wiping the brine hastily from her eyes, she was quite ready for another plunge, having in the mean time stowed the silver coin away securely in her cheek, as monkeys do nuts and candy. The water alongside the ship was probably thirty or forty fathoms deep, but no piece of money got half-way to the bottom before it was overtaken and secured by a native diver. Though all were as nearly nude as was admissible in the presence of civilized people, they evinced not the