The Hawaiian star. [volume] (Honolulu [Oahu]) 1893-1912, 1910-08-13
ANA PEKE PEKA OR
CAVE OF THE BIRDS

tropic vegetation to the broad expanse
of blue water beyond, or peeped into
the cloister of old precious volumes
that lined the walls of a small room
held sacred because from its seclu-
sion Stevenson, the master writer of
tales, gave to the world the works
Of his inspired pen I little realized
this great privilege that was mine,
or that time would be when the
memory of those moments would
come back to me proud and happy in
their possession.
And yet today as I closed my book
it was not beautiful romantic Samoa
to which my thoughts reverted, but
a group of islands 500 miles to the
southeast of that renowned spot. more
properly speaking three groups called
Tonga, lying lovely in mid-ocean with
FIJI about eight hundred and New
Zealand over a thousand miles to the
south.
These, the Friendly islands, though
but little known boast of MANY pre-
historic wonders and it was one of
them named Ana Peke Peka" or
Gave of the Birds" that I, on one of
my trips, enjoyed the distinction of
visiting and it was the memory of
that day which came wildly before
me, causing me to lay aside the book
that l was attempting to read and
arousing in me a desire to 20 over
mentally once again the details of
my unique excursion.
We left the steamer in a small boat
after the fierce midday heat of the
tropics had somewhat subsidized and
the sun cast reflections on the wa
ters through the dense underbrush
growing in great profusion on the
shores. To the right rose "Talau.T
nil resembling a large Chinese hat
the summit of which commands a ma.
norama of Vavau and the outlying
islands; to the left stretched broad
Whlte beach, where some natives
starting out in their canoes called a
greeting as we passed, and further
On were grass huts nestled together
A light breeze filled our sail and
We scudded along, Captain Newton at
the rudder, in his trim uniform Of
white and gold, the second officer ana
i the captains guest, reclining
against cushion thoughtfullv
provided, letting my hand hang
over the side and trying tn
catch the playful little waves
that tossed themselves against tbe
gunwale.
haIt closed my eyes drinking in
the peace of that perfect day, the
absolute quiet and restfuIness of the
scene. The sun was low and its red
golden rays Illuminated the thick
groves in glory of light. There
was no sound save the lazy creaK1ng
OF the loom, and the ripple in the
water that my trailing fingers made
MY thoughts few back to the NIGHT
OF my departure from San Francisco
the six days trip to Honolulu. the
arrival at Pago Fago, the proximity of
whose towering mountains frightened
me. Then came short trim on %
ton steamer across the channel to
Apla, where l embarked to the "Hau.
roto whose jovial skipper, a warm
friend of long standing greeted me
with enthusiasm, extending to me
every courtesy.
We had been one day at sea before
arriving at the first island of the
Ionga group that morning. It was
almost as if we had barely Withdrawn
one hand clasp from Samoa. when wo
greeted Vavau with the otner.
Rising early, was on deck as our
steamer rounded the first point If
land, and entered the five miles of tho
most beautiful little harbor in the
South Pacific.
Each turn revealed new scenery.
Here, a barren projection of cbaIkv
rocks against which angry combers
from the open sea dasned hurting
spray one hundred feet into the air
Ihere' on the opposite shore, a quiet
dreamy nook with native church
and village among the trees, and a
naked fisherman STOPPING to start the
hre for his morning meal on the sand
Inc sun rose as our steamers don.
Key engine began its vigorous dis.
lurDance, and l leaned on the rail and
sa" the light touch the cocoa-palms
whose graceful shining leaves trem-
pied IN the cool morning breeze And
tnen the natives commenced to board
tne steamer, big broad shouldered
men, the shade of cafe au lait. some
OF Whom were partly bare, and others
win scarlet blossoms stuck fantas.