# Twenty years before the mast/Chapter XIV

CHAPTER XIV.
At daylight on the morning of the 23d of September we made Oahu, one of the Sandwich Islands, and about eight o’clock entered the harbor of Honolulu. A couple of small hawsers were run out from the starboard bow, and these were seized by several hundred natives, men, women, and children, who were on the reef, up to their necks in water, and very soon the ship was warped over the bar and into port, amid such shouting and singing that it seemed as though bedlam had broken loose. All Honolulu, including its land-sharks, was at the waterside and joined in the shouting and cheering. It was not the novelty that created the excitement, for the arrival of a man-of-war, in their port, was no uncommon thing; but they looked upon the event as a sort of golden shower which was to fill their pockets. They had been expecting our arrival for six months.
By eleven o’clock we had the ship safely moored close to the consul’s wharf. After dinner all hands were called to muster on the quarter-deck, when Commodore Wilkes informed us that he wished to re-enter us for eighteen months longer, saying at the time that it was impossible to sooner complete the work which he had undertaken. He told us that those who re-entered should have three ​months’ pay and two weeks’ liberty, and that their wages would be raised one-fourth.
Nearly all our ships’ crews had entered for three years, and, as their time had expired, all hands had an idea that when we left Honolulu it would be to up anchor for "home, sweet, sweet home."
Like all the young men and boys in the squadron, I felt heartily sick of the navy. We learned nothing but to pull and haul, handle the light sails, holy-stone decks, clean bright work, do boat duty, etc. None but able seamen were allowed to go to the wheel, heave the lead, or work on the rigging. As young as I was, before I entered the navy I had learned to box the compass, heave the lead, knot a rope-yarn, haul out an earing, work a Matthew Walker, and Turk’s head, strap a block, knot, hand, reef, and steer. I learned more seamanship on board the merchantman Rainbow, during an eight months’ voyage from New York to Canton, China, than in my seven years in the navy.
Quite a number of the men who had families and had not seen their dear ones for years, left, and went on board three whale-ships which were homeward bound. After listening to many long yarns spun upon deck, I consulted my own mind, and came to the conclusion that I would not leave the ship short-handed in a foreign port.
The next morning the purser, Mr. Waldron, told me that the four dollars a month to my mother was for only three years, and had now expired. I asked him if there was any way for me to send some money to my mother, and he told me that one of the whale-ships would sail in ​about a week for New Bedford, and that the money could be sent by her. I had now fully made up my mind to re-enter, and so, with others, wrote my name in full, and felt as big and grand as though I were an officer.
The next day the purser gave me a paper on which was written the following:
U. S. Ship Vincennes, Honolulu, May 7th, 1841.
I have charged to Charlie Erskine, ord’y seaman, One Hundred Dollars, to be sent per order to F. D. Quincy, Esq., of Boston, for his mother, which sum is to be repaid to C. Erskine in case it should not be received, by R. R. Waldron, purser.
My First Letter.
"the Sandwich Islands year 1841.
on board of ship Vincens
Mother, Mother, Dear Mother,
while fair away a cruseing amoung the islands of the sea, I never, Oh no Dear mother, I never, never will forget to think of the. by going to Mr. F. D. Quincy 25 Commercial Street You will get one hundred dollars from
Your absent son Charlie."
When I re-entered, and signed the ship’s articles, I was paid three months’ wages and twelve dollars grog money. During the day all the foreign consuls, missionaries, and many of the residents visited the ship. A young English naturalist wanted to match a beautiful orange-colored cowry shell. I had its mate, and he gave me ten dollars for it, and twenty dollars for a head of tortoise-shell.
​There were nine whale-ships lying here, besides our squadron. Five of them were American. The next morning between five and six hundred American sailors, all dressed in white frocks and trousers, black tarpaulin hats and neckerchiefs, and their pockets well filled with Spanish dollars, went on shore. Passing the American consul’s house, half-way up Main Street, we hove to, and saluted the Star Spangled Banner, which was proudly waving from his house. The consul, Mr. Brinsmade, and his wife, bowed very gracefully to us from the veranda.
It astonished the natives greatly to see so many sailors let loose at once. The principal street of the town was Main Street. The first settlers lived on this street, in frame houses. Some of these were painted white, with green blinds, and were inclosed with neat picket-fences. The next street was about half a mile back, and ran crosswise. The buildings on this street had thatched roofs and sides, with glass windows and frame doors. Here were located the grog-shops, dancing-halls, billiard- rooms, cock-pits, sailors’ boarding-houses, and gambling- saloons. Some of these houses were inclosed by walls of brick, dried in the sun, and were whitewashed. These were occupied by the middle classes. European garments were worn by this class of people. On the next street the houses were rudely fashioned. They were built of sticks, vines, and half-formed sun-dried bricks, and plastered with mud. The residents on this street were not quite half-dressed. Some of the men wore hat and shirt, and some wore trousers and no shirt. The dress of the ladies was made very much like a bag with ​a hole in the bottom, for the head to be slipped through, and arm-holes in the sides. It reached to the ankles, and appeared to be of the same width throughout its entire length.
In the outskirts, mud huts were found, which once formed the only habitations of the Sandwich Islanders.
THE SEAMAN’S BETHEL, HONOLULU.
The natives occupying these were dressed in the garb of the heathen, a narrow strip of tapa tied around the loins, or a blanket of the same material thrown corner-wise over the left shoulder and tied in a large knot on the breast.
The greatest curiosity I saw while here was the Seaman’s Bethel. This was built in Boston by the Boston ​Seaman’s Friends’ Society, taken down and shipped to this port in 1826 or 1828. It was in this bethel that Father Damon preached so many years.
The third day we were on shore anybody would have known to be Sunday, because it was so quiet. It was impossible to get a native to play a game, neither could any of them be hired to do anything. In the forenoon, about a hundred of us went to the Seaman’s Bethel to hear the pastor, Rev. Mr. Diell, preach. In the afternoon we listened to a missionary by the name of Bingham, who preached to the natives in their own language.
We passed our time on shore very pleasantly, in the sailors’ boarding-houses kept by "Yankee Jim" and "Old Smith," and in visiting the distant villages, Diamond Hill, the Punch Bowl, the Plains of Waikiki, and the Valley of Nuuanu. It was rare sport for us to frolic in the surf with the natives, join with them in their dances, slide down hill with them on the holna (a kind of sled), sing songs, play cards, and games, such as hide-and-seek, tag, and see-saw, and last, but not least, paying forfeits. We had a jolly time together.
Our holidays came to a close at last, and all hands returned to our respective ships, minus dollars and somewhat under the weather from our frolic. To give Jack before the mast his due, I will add that not one of us was put in the fort or even complained of during our two weeks’ liberty on shore.
After we returned on board ship a court-martial was held for the trial of two marines for refusing duty (they asserting that their time was up), and an Englishman, by the name of Peter Sweeney, who shipped at New ​Zealand. Sweeney was very conceited and disagreeable. At all times, whether drunk or sober, he would curse everything American, using such expressions as "the bloody ship," "the bloody grub," "the bloody Yankee tars," "the bloody Stars and Stripes," "the bloody Yankee commodore," and so on. He was no sailor, and was as useless as a spare pump on board, and the ship’s crew requested the commodore to discharge him from the ship and the expedition.
The court-martial sentenced the men to receive a certain number of lashes on their bare backs, with the cat- o’-nine-tails. The ship’s launch was rigged with a half- deck and gallows. A number of marines, with the boatswain and his three mates, were appointed to guard the prisoners and inflict the punishment. The launch was towed by another boat alongside the Peacock, Porpoise, and Vincennes, when the rigging was manned and the men flogged, one after another.
The culprits were lashed to the shrouds by their wrists, with a piece of spun-yarn, and by their ankles to a grating, with a shot-box between their feet. When the order was given, "Boatswain’s mate, do your duty," one of the quarter-gunners, with his thumb and finger, removed the shirt which had been placed on the man’s back, with the sleeves over his shoulders. The boatswain’s mate then drew the lines of the cat through his fingers, raised them above his head, and let them fall upon the man’s back.
Riley received sixteen lashes, Sweeney eight, and Ward a baker’s dozen, thirteen. The eagle buttons were then cut from Sweeney’s clothes, and he, with his bag and ​hammock, was placed in the dinky, which was towed to the shore, stern foremost, by another boat, while the ship’s fifer and drummer played the "Rogue’s March."
During the exhibition, the decks and rigging of the nine whale-ships, many boats and canoes in the harbor, and on shore the fort, housetops, and beach, were covered with a mass of human beings, all eager to witness this barbarous spectacle.
I quote from the commodore’s own language: "Understanding from our consul that the sailors of the whaling fleet, as is most generally the case, were disposed to be disorderly; and my interference being several times asked for, I thought it a good opportunity to show the crews of all these vessels that authority to punish offenders existed. I therefore ordered the sentence of the court to be put in execution publicly, after the usual manner in such cases: ‘Flogging through the fleet’!"
This example was set before a half-civilized people, who were just emerging from heathen darkness into Christian light! Well might it have been asked, "Where is our Christianity? Where is our civilization?"
There were in Honolulu at this time many beer-drinking Germans, pipe-loving Dutchmen, French dandies, conceited Englishmen, Yankees, Hoosiers, California Indians, and almond-eyed, sallow-faced Chinamen. Of the latter class were Sam and Mou, who run a bakery. The sign over their door read as follows:
"Good people all, come near and buy
Of Sam and Mou good cake and pie; Bread, hard or soft, for land or sea, Celestial made, — come, buy of we."
There were two weekly newspapers printed here, called The Polynesian. One was in English, the other in the Hawaiian language. Eleven thousand copies of the Bible had also been printed in the native language, and distributed among the islands.
Some sixty or seventy Kanakas, or natives, were shipped to take the place of the crew who had left. The two whale-ships sailed for the United States. How I longed to be with them. The ships of the squadron had been thoroughly overhauled, smoked, and repainted. The ships had been overrun with rats and cockroaches. Some of the latter were three inches long. On the berth deck at night swarms of them might be seen flying about. They were so ravenous that they even ate the horn buttons off our clothes, and attacked our toe-nails while we were asleep in our hammocks.
Early in the morning, on the 3d of December, we weighed anchor and put to sea, with the American consul, Mr. Brinsmade, and a missionary by the name of Judd.
The Sandwich Islands were discovered by Captain Cook in 1778. They are eleven in number, situated in the tropics between 19° and 23° north latitude. We headed for the island of Hawaii, formerly called Owhyhee. It is nearly ninety miles long and seventy broad, being the largest of the group. It blew pretty fresh, the sea was somewhat rough, and our Kanaka shipmates were quite indisposed. They lay about on deck like so many landlubbers, as willing to die as to live.
​Our supply of provisions, which we took on board at Honolulu, had been stored in the consul’s house a number of years, and our hard-tack was very moldy, and alive with grub-worms. We used to soak the bread in our tea, when the animals would float on top, and we would skim them off. We did not exactly relish this at first, but soon got used to it, however.