The Hawaiian star. [volume] (Honolulu [Oahu]) 1893-1912, 1910-08-27
TO The SOUTH SEAS

tempting, are hauled up, as are also
tapas of all colors and patterns, fine
mats, native fans, made of the tissue
bark of the "loau" tree, dyed. and COM
bined in humorous designs. Amusing
hats also are offered, made of the dyed
woven bark into crown and brim,
and trimmed with roses and ferns
made of the same material in vivid
green and red.
But as it is now seven o'clock, your
steward has discovered you to an
nounce that your bath is in readiness,
and casting a departing glance over
the side at the medley of strange
sights and sounds, you hurry below,
to complete your additions, grateful
indeed for your cold plunge in the
intense heat of the morning.
Arrayed at length in your sheerest
white clothes and canvas boots, and
with a quantity of sweet violet water
sprinkled on your hands and temples to
distract your thoughts from the over
towering heat of the new day, you join
your fellow passengers at breakfast,
all busy as to handkerchiefs and fans.
my, l thought Honolulu was hot
enough" exclaims your portly neigh.
for, but isn't this ust simply awful
Am l going ashore after breakfast
I Indeed I'm not. I'm going to sit right
here under this electric fan until we
start off again!"
After light breakfast, principally
of iced milk and frui, when your ste
ward has informed you that boat has
been secured for you, and that your
luggage is waiting at the head of the
gangway, you pin on your Panama
hat, and with throb of regret, for a
sea voyage usually prompts the bind
ing of friendly ties, you seek your
friends who are remaining on the ship
and also the officers, bidding them all
farewell. And as you glance back
once or twice over the stern of the
row boat receding to the rhythmic beat
of oars manned by two half bare Sa-
means, and catch a glimpse of the
captain waving his white cap to you
from the bridge, and see also a few
friendly handkerchiefs f1uttering from
the rail of the big luxurious steamer
which has been your home for so many
days your heart beats a trifle faster
and you throw them a last greeting
and turn quickly away.
Handing your suit case and grip to
your boat boy you walk along the hot
narrow, white lime road passable only
for pedestrians and bicyclists, and
passing by a well kept low rooted
house, which the Samoan boy in brok.
en- English explains is the U. S. hos.
pital, and several small cottages, very
bare and uninviting and built directly
facing the road, you reach big clum-
silly built two stored building which
proves, to be a hotel, and dry goods
store and shipping office combined.
Here you. learn that the Maori"
about the arrival of which you have
been so concerned is right out yonder,
in the harbor, and you behold for the
second time what you supposed was
only fishing craft. You are to leave
for Apia on the neighboring island
Of Upolo at eight o'clock that night you
are told and in the meantime will you
engage room upstairs?
Followed by the boat boy and pre-
coded by the half white clerk in soft
shirt and bare feet, you mount the un-
covered stairs to the second story
where you are admitted to your room,
so paying your major domo" and
thanking the clerk you gently close
the door
You find yourself in a spacious apart
ment with Samoan mats covering the
bare floor, in corner of which is a
plain wooden bedstead with immacu-
late spread and pillow shams to match
and neat white curtains attached to
lAAC bAcloo hOOlD WllACu lCdu OuI W Tie
veranda, on which full length wicker
chairs are placed commanding mag
nificent view of the beautiful quiet
harbor and lofty towering peaks on
the opposite shore. One of these rid
ges, called by the Samoans the Rain
Maker" is nearly always topped by
dark clouds and therefore it frequent
ly rains in Page Pago
A shower even now is pouring down,
almost hiding the opposite hills from
view, so you unpack your grip and
drawing a kimona from your suit case,
discard your gown and opening all
the doors and windows, and drawing
the shades, lie down for the remainder
of the morning in the quiet darkened
room. The rain drops increasingly
and but perfect stiffness abounds. You
hear the first blast of the steamers
whistle hut Won have No dasire IN