Part 2

The Atlantic ocean is small compared with the great bulk of the Pacific. Immense fields of water never parted by the cut-water of a ship or steamer lie between the Cape of Good Hope and Cape Horn. Perhaps half of the Pacific is as yet unexplored and uncharted. In the lonely South Seas lie the Samoa islands, two of which belong to the United States. The “Sonoma” stopped at one of these on the 29th, and we found the harbor at Pago Pago exceedingly pretty. The captain said we should reach Pago Pago at 4 P. M., and at 3:50 P. M. we went ashore. The “Sonoma” makes its time as accurately as a railroad train. Two hours before, the island had been in sight, and long before turning into the harbor we skirted the island so closely that we could see children waving at us from the shore. The island is mountainous, but along the shore were many villages of grass-covered houses, and many groves of cocoanut trees. The harbor of Pago Pago is completely land-locked, and has deep water, but the mountains surrounding it are very high, and we found the weather very warm. As we approached the dock we passed the little gunboat “Princeton,” the captain of which acts as governor of American Samoa. His crew comprises the defensive force, except that fifty natives are employed by our government to act as police. These men receive a dollar a day, and the sons of the most aristocratic native chiefs are anxious to enlist. The entire native population of Tutuila and Manua, the two islands we control, is seven thousand, whereas the total white population is only a hundred. This is made up largely of the crew of the “Princeton.” Mail is received from home only once a month, and as the “Sonoma” was their Christmas boat, you can imagine that nearly all of the white population greeted our landing. Packages of newspapers were thrown out before the lines were made fast, and soon there was cheering: we brought the news that the naval school at Annapolis won the football game from Hartford. Mingling with the white men and women of the naval establishment were hundreds of natives, who looked a good deal like our Indians, except that they were better dressed. One swell we saw was barefoot, and carried a cane. The officers told us he was the head chief of a village. Sometimes the villages are not half a mile apart, but every one has a chief. Three native villages were in sight from the deck of the ship when we landed. The best building in Pago Pago is the house of the governor, which occupies a sightly position on top of a hill overlooking the sea and harbor. There are perhaps a dozen houses for the officers and men, and these, with a cold storage and electric-light plant, coal bunkers, and a small custom-house, make up the naval station. In addition to the “Princeton,” we found two or three smaller boats in the harbor. These had come from the other islands after freight and mail from the “Sonoma.” The “Dawn” I shall long remember as the dirtiest boat I have ever seen. It runs to Apia, fifty miles away. Apia is controlled by the Germans, and is much larger than Pago Pago. You may recall that a good many years ago several gunboats were loafing in Apia harbor when a great storm came up. Two gunboats belonging to the United States and two belonging to Germany went ashore, and a good many sailors were drowned. The incident was one of the big sensations at the time. Robert Louis Stevenson is buried near Apia, and he wrote that the Samoa islands furnish the finest climate in the world.... We spent five hours at Pago Pago, walking about and visiting with the naval officers and their families. Most of them came to the islands on the “Sonoma,” and a dozen or more of them dined with us. The government has built a reservoir in the hills back of the town, and water is piped to all of the houses occupied by the officers. The naval people were so glad to see us that they permitted us to fill the ship’s water tanks without charge. There are two or three American girls visiting married sisters in Pago Pago, and they told us they had not tired of the place after an experience of several months. All of them came over on the “Sonoma,” and they hurried on board to see their friend, the captain. He dined at the executive mansion. Governor Crose’s lady had peanut soup, and the captain said it was not only new, but very good. She also had fried chicken, mashed potatoes, apple salad, and several other things the captain could not remember when questioned next morning at breakfast, although he spoke particularly of home-made butter. The governor owns the cow we saw tied on the hillside near the executive mansion.... Hundreds of the natives were permitted to come on board the “Sonoma.” Usually they give a dance on the parade ground, and assess the passengers twenty-five cents each, but the day being Sunday, the missionaries objected to the usual dance being given. However, Adelaide and I saw the dance. When we came in from one of our three excursions on shore, we found sixty or seventy native women and girls in the ladies’ saloon of the ship, and they were coaxing each other to dance; it reminded me of a country party when the different guests are coaxed to sing. Two sailors from the “Princeton” wandered in, and one of them was coaxed to play the piano for the dancing. He played awhile, but as no one danced, he finally quit in disgust. Then a native girl, after much giggling and coaxing, was persuaded to play, and three or four of the girls danced. Two of them were particularly good; so Adelaide and I saw the much-discussed Samoan dance, in spite of the missionaries. But we were the only passengers present; the others were ashore looking at postal cards. The dance will be given at the approaching San Francisco exposition, a speculator having arranged already for a Samoan village. I am certain I saw three hundred natives on board during our stay at Pago Pago. When I went down to the barber shop to get shaved before dinner, I found the room packed with native women looking at the barber’s wares. A ship barber operates a little store, and his wares include toilet articles, clothing, medicines, confectionery, plug tobacco, etc. I don’t know that the Samoan women chew plug tobacco, but I saw a good many of them smoking. By-the-way, the barber on the “Sonoma” was barber on the “Siberia” when I went to Japan several years ago.

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The afternoon we left Honolulu a new passenger came aboard, and I saw him first in the smoking-room. He was very plain, and I thought it my duty to be nice to him. He was agreeable enough, but not much disposed to talk. Later I learned that he is a member of the British Parliament, and that he has twenty-eight pieces of luggage. He is traveling with a doctor, and woman nurse, as he is not well. Ship gossip is to the effect that he is a son of Sir John Lister, a noted Englishman who has done much in a scientific way. Listerine was named for Sir John Lister. I do not see many talk to the British celebrity, except his doctor. His nurse has been seasick ever since coming on board, and she cannot be of much use to her employer. The man sits almost opposite me at the table, and I am satisfied that if anyone should look at him steadily, he would leave the dining-room. He is very plain, and knows it, in which respect he is different from Andrew Carnegie. He is known as “Mr. Lister,” and is going to South Africa to hunt lions. At first, the passengers picked at him a good deal, but during the long voyage to Sydney he became one of the most popular men on board, largely because he is quiet and well-behaved.

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One of the passengers is an Australian who lived for a time in South Africa, and made money in mining. Disposing of his holdings to advantage, he went to Oregon, and engaged in apple-growing. It is very interesting to hear him tell of his experiences. He knew nothing about apple-growing when he went to Oregon, but “picked up” a practical knowledge of the business through experience. One of his “experiences” was losing $40,000 in buying a bad orchard. This taught him caution, and later he made money. His apple-pickers are compelled to wear gloves, and to twist rather than pull fruit from the trees. His specialty is buying orchards of shiftless owners, and reviving them. I heard him say last night that there were two sure ways of making money in the United States: the best is apple-growing, and the second is sheep-raising. It interested me greatly to hear that a man might learn a new business and make a success of it in three or four years, as this man did in the apple business.... Captain Trask has great contempt for the modern sailor; he says any old woman of fifty could do the work of a sailor these days, but in the old days of sailing-ships, seamen were compelled to work very hard, and their trade was a difficult one. The sailors on the “Sonoma,” almost without exception, wear blue overalls, and not the wide pantaloons you associate with sailor-men.

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There is a wireless apparatus on board, and every day news of no importance is posted in the companionway. The night before Christmas, when we were twenty-four hundred miles out, a good many passengers sent messages to friends.... When you sit on your porches at home, on summer evenings, you hear locusts in the trees. Old-fashioned colored people call them jar-bugs. The wireless, when in operation, sounds exactly like a locust buzzing: a good many of the passengers have remarked the similarity. There are two operators, one of whom is always on duty. One of them is a tall young fellow who does great stunts in the swimming-pool, and the other looks and talks exactly as Lieutenant Rowan did when he carried that famous message to Garcia.

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We had an enjoyable time at our New Year celebration. First there was an elaborate dinner, followed by a concert and dance, participated in by the second-cabin passengers. At the conclusion of the concert, we all joined hands and sang, “Should Old Acquaintance be Forgot?” When the dancing began, quadrilles soon became the fashion, and the affair reminded me of “a good time” among neighbors who had known each other many years. Most of the talent for the concert was furnished by the second-cabin, although the best two numbers came from first-class passengers. Refreshments were passed around, and the gayety continued until after midnight. Late in the evening, some one tied down the ship’s big whistle, and the trouble was not located for five minutes. Members of the crew also got up a grotesque parade, headed by the young man who blows a cornet three times a day to announce when meals are ready. Between quadrilles, the passengers stood at the rail, and looked at the Southern Cross, and found it rather disappointing; near it is a false cross which looks rather better than the genuine. The Southern Cross is seen only in the far South, and down here everything in the heavens is new to Northern eyes. Stars are more numerous than at home, and the night of the dance the heavens were particularly clear, and the sea very smooth. Further on, in South Africa, the nights are said to be so brilliant that it is possible to read comfortably by moonlight. During the dance and concert, the first-class passengers became so well acquainted with those in the second-cabin that they now go down to visit them, which they are at liberty to do, although the second-cabin passengers cannot come up on our deck without a special invitation from the captain or purser. Once a week the captain dines in the second-cabin. The food is about the same in the two dining-rooms, but our location is amidships, while the second is far aft, and the motion is more pronounced. The difference in fare is considerable, amounting to one-quarter or a third.

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One of the most interesting men on board is J. L. Dwyer, secretary of native affairs in American Samoa, and chief district judge. He is on his way to Sydney, on a vacation. Judge Dwyer has been in Pago Pago five years. When he arrived, he found a king ruling over the island of Manua, but he managed to amicably dispose of His Majesty by making him a district judge. The king lived in a five-room house, and Judge Dwyer says he was a man of intelligence, and ruled justly, but he abdicated quietly, and, as district judge, did all he could for his people for a salary of $25 a month. The king died a year or two ago, but left a daughter, now twenty years old, who will be married shortly to a white clerk in a store at Pago Pago. The clerk gave Judge Dwyer $50 with which to buy a wedding ring in Sydney, and the judge says I may help select it. I have never before been on equally intimate terms with royalty.... The Samoan men believe it beneath their dignity to be annoyed by anything a woman does, so there are almost no quarrels among them on account of jealousy. But if a Samoan woman becomes jealous of another woman, trouble may be expected promptly.... The natives have no income except from the sale of copra, which is the dried meat of the cocoanut. Traders formerly robbed them unmercifully, so the United States Government now attends to the selling of copra, without expense to the natives. The income from this source amounts to $20 per inhabitant per year.... In going into Pago Pago, we saw a great many churches; every village seemed to have at least two. Judge Dwyer says there are too many churches in the islands. Many of the preachers are natives, and much of the money obtained from copra is sent away to missionary societies, for evangelistic work in other communities. Five of our second-cabin passengers were Mormon missionaries for Pago Pago. The missionaries are thrifty: I was told that every big institution in the Hawaiian islands is owned by a descendant of the old missionaries. But there is little in the Samoan islands to develop; almost no agricultural land, and the little there is (in the vicinity of Apia) is in the hands of Chinese. At Pago Pago, all vegetables come from San Francisco, 4,400 miles away. A monthly paper is printed in Pago Pago, by the government, and distributed gratuitously among the natives. One column out of eight is devoted to English local news.... In the two American islands in Samoa there are but four vehicles, and these are two-wheel carts. There are no agricultural implements, and no farms. Wealth is calculated by the number of cocoanut trees a man owns. The trees are worth $5 each, and the nuts from each tree average about $1 per year in value. The waters surrounding the islands produce many food fish, but the natives do not much care for them. There are a good many pigs of an inferior breed, and some of these run wild, and are hunted with dogs. The only other game in the island are wild pigeons, though there is talk that wild cattle may be found on Tutuila island, a story Judge Dwyer does not believe. Every little while the natives hunt the wild cattle, but never find them. Sugar-cane is grown in Samoa, but is used for no other purpose than to thatch the queer circular houses of the natives.... A village chief is simply the village mayor, and is elected annually. Occasionally the elections are very exciting, and fraud freely resorted to, but in the main the Samoans are a peaceful people, and fairly honest.... It is impossible to get away from taxes, and the Samoan head of a family pays 270 pounds of copra as his annual contribution to the state. This is all used to pay local chiefs, and none of it goes to the United States.... Communism is practiced by the people, and when a man earns $20 a month working as a servant in an American household, he is compelled to divide with members of his family, but the industrious Samoans are tiring of this plan, and resort to all sorts of subterfuges to avoid dividing their wages.... Pago Pago is a beautiful place for naval lieutenants to take their brides, and it was delightful to spend five hours in the American colony there, but we have no more use for it than we have for Guam, or the Philippines. The supplies come from San Francisco, and cost a great deal; coal costs $13 a ton for the cruises of the “Princeton,” but our government does not receive ten cents a day income from American Samoa. In our career of conquest in Samoa, we have not robbed the Samoans; they have robbed us.

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At breakfast-time on the morning of December 31, we passed Turtle island, of the Fiji group. We could see smoke ashore, and that was about all. The 180th meridian crosses one of these islands, and the captain says a native has a house on the line. In one end of his house the day of the week is Thursday, while in the other end it is Friday.

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Most of the passengers are English. Among the Americans is a Chicago doctor named Beeson, who greatly interests me. Dr. Beeson has a son who is thirty years old, and when the father is away the son attends to his business, as the son is also a doctor. When the father returns, the son will take a trip. Harry Clay Blaney and wife, who toured the country for years in a play called “Across the Pacific,” are also interesting passengers. Mr. Blaney and his brother Charles operate theatres in New York, Philadelphia, Brooklyn, Jersey City, and in other cities, in addition to owning several road shows. Mrs. Blaney is an actress, but is very domestic, and spends most of her time sitting on deck doing fancy work.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 5.—We celebrated our approach to Sydney, Australia, by running into a storm. I have never seen worse weather at sea. Heavy seas continually broke over the prow, and at breakfast only one woman appeared in the dining-room. It will surprise you to learn that this lone woman was Adelaide, the farmer’s daughter. The gentlemen gave her quite a reception, but I wasn’t there to witness it: I was sick in bed. Women are very much more subject to seasickness than men, as a rule.... The night before the storm, we had another impromptu dance, and Adelaide, who never danced in her life, danced the lancers with Judge Dwyer, chief judge of American Samoa. There were two sets, and a good-natured doctor from London called the figures in an amusing way. I hear it frequently remarked that we have a very agreeable passenger list; not a disagreeable person on the list. At the captain’s dinner the captain made another speech, in which he threw us gorgeous bouquets.

MONDAY, JANUARY 6.—The captain said we should see land on the morning of the 6th, at 8 o’clock. At almost exactly that hour, land appeared off the starboard beam (I take this to mean off to the right). When land first appears at sea, it is very faint, and is only distinguished from clouds with difficulty. At 10 A. M. we were in plain sight of Sydney’s famous harbor, and saw other ships entering ahead of us. A half an hour later, we took on a pilot, and at 11 o’clock we stopped at quarantine to wait for a doctor. When this official came, we found him a huge man who would create a sensation in a museum. After the usual inspection, the “Sonoma” steamed toward her dock, eight miles away, and we had an opportunity to see the harbor.... In reading, you are almost constantly in sight of the statement that Sydney has the finest harbor in the world, and, after you have seen it, you are disposed to admit the truth of the statement. After passing in from the sea, a ship travels eight or ten miles to the city docks, and the course winds around through hills almost large enough to be called mountains. On either side are bays, and everywhere on top of the hills you see houses with red tile roofs. Sydney is a city of more than seven hundred thousand, and has doubled its population in the past twenty-five years. It is only a question of a few years until Sydney has a million population, and is destined to become one of the great cities of the world. Its houses are nearly all built of a native stone of yellow cast. Through this wonderful harbor we steamed slowly, and finally landed at noon, as the captain said we would.