II.

The next morning, Manuel rose earlier than his usual early hour, and waited for Gabriel.

“Ah, my boy,” he said walking toward the road as Gabriel finally made an appearance, “if you are as slow as that on the plantation, your boss will hurry you up with his big black whip.”

“The bosses do not use whips any more,” Gabriel responded.

“They do not? How do you know?”

“The American said so.”

“The American lies. I have a brother there who went over with the first lot of Portuguese, which left on the _Priscilla_ nearly twenty-five years ago, to Honolulu. The tales which he used to tell me, when he came back, of how the bosses, lunas, they call them there, used to treat them, would simply scare you. No, sir, no plantations for me, sir; and if you knew what I know, you would say the same thing.”

“Yes, I know what you know; how the lunas used to take up the hoes which the men were using, and bang them on the head with the handles just because they felt like it. I know, too, that they used to tie the men up to the fence and whip them with their snake whips just because the men were a trifle slow, and I know, too, that things have changed within the last years. With the coming of Annexation, the plantation laborer does not suffer what he used to, so to the plantations for me.”

“Well, I am sure you have my permission, but let us hurry; the sun is getting quite high and we have a number of miles to go yet.”

They quickened their pace and were soon in town where they found a crowd of men and women gathered around a large building.

“That is where the American has his office,” said Gabriel, “he is now receiving the names of those who want to go. Come, let us enter.”

They walked in together and awaited their turn to book.

“Your name,” asked the clerk finally of Manuel.

“Manuel Gomes da Silva.”

“How many children have you?”

“_Quartorze._”

“How many is that?” asked the “Americano.”

“Fourteen.”

“Fourteen! Good! That means fourteen families some day to make their homes in Hawaii. Fourteen different families to work on the plantations. Good!”

Manuel did not understand what the American was saying, but he made a very good guess and smiled knowingly at Gabriel as he walked up to the registrar.

“Married or single?” he was asked.

“Single. I intend to marry Manuel’s eldest daughter as soon as we get in Honolulu.”

His remark was translated to the American, who rubbed his hands gleefully. “Better and better,” he said. “There goes a man who will make Hawaii his permanent home. In years to come he will be able to vote and for all we know, some of his children may serve in our legislature.”

The interpreter laughed. The idea of a son of a plantation hand being a Senator or even a Representative appeared ludicrous to him, and he said so.

“It has been done before,” he was told, “so why can’t it be done again.”

“Done before?” asked the interpreter, “do you mean to tell me that any of your public men have had parents who worked on the plantations?”

“Sure,” was the response.

The interpreter shook his head. “It is unheard of here.”

“Here, yes; but in America and in Hawaii, no. Our school system accounts for that--but here comes another man.”

All day the men booked, and when night came, word was given to get ready immediately as the boat sailed in three days.

Manuel and Gabriel stayed in town that night and were taken to the wharf to see the _Suveric_, the boat which was to take them to the Paradise of the Pacific.

The remaining days were ones of excitement and bustle. For the two friends, however, there was not much to do. No furniture was brought as they could get furniture cheaply in Honolulu.

“I am going to look at the old house once more before I go,” said Gabriel on the day the ship was to leave.

“Better not,” advised Manuel; “you might miss the boat.”

“There is no danger of that. The boat sails at five this evening and it is now three in the morning. All of my things are on board, so I shall have nothing to do when I come back.”

“Oh, don’t go,” said Maria; “the ship might go earlier than they say, and what would I do without you!”

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I want to put some fresh flowers on my parents’ graves, before I leave this island, never to return.”

She respected his sentiment and let him go without a murmur, but not without misgivings on both her and her father’s part.

“If he misses this boat, it will be a terrible thing for him. All his clothes are aboard and I have his money in my note,” Manuel said.

“Oh, he will have time to go and return,” spoke up João Mello, who was Gabriel’s friend. “Gabriel is a fast walker and could go much further than that in the same time.”

“It isn’t that,” returned Maria, “suppose the boat should leave earlier than we were told it would?”

“I hadn’t thought of that. If I had,” he added thoughtfully, “I wouldn’t have let him go. But let us hope for the best,” he added cheerfully, seeing that Maria was about to cry.