The Letters of Robert Louis Stevenson — Volume 2Stevenson, Robert Louis
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The Letters of Robert Louis Stevenson — Volume 2
Stevenson, Robert Louis
Authors, Scottish -- 19th century -- Correspondence; Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894 -- Correspondence
From my point of view, up to now the cruise has been a wonderful success.
I never knew the world was so amusing. On the last voyage we had grown
so used to sea-life that no one wearied, though it lasted a full month,
except Fanny, who is always ill. All the time our visits to the islands
have been more like dreams than realities: the people, the life, the
beachcombers, the old stories and songs I have picked up, so interesting;
the climate, the scenery, and (in some places) the women, so beautiful.
The women are handsomest in Tahiti, the men in the Marquesas; both as
fine types as can be imagined. Lloyd reminds me, I have not told you one
characteristic incident of the cruise from a semi-naval point of view.
One night we were going ashore in Anaho Bay; the most awful noise on
deck; the breakers distinctly audible in the cabin; and there I had to
sit below, entertaining in my best style a negroid native chieftain, much
the worse for rum! You can imagine the evening’s pleasure.
This naval report on cruising in the South Seas would be incomplete
without one other trait. On our voyage up here I came one day into the
dining-room, the hatch in the floor was open, the ship’s boy was below
with a baler, and two of the hands were carrying buckets as for a fire;
this meant that the pumps had ceased working.
One stirring day was that in which we sighted Hawaii. It blew fair, but
very strong; we carried jib, foresail, and mainsail, all single-reefed,
and she carried her lee rail under water and flew. The swell, the
heaviest I have ever been out in—I tried in vain to estimate the height,
_at least_ fifteen feet—came tearing after us about a point and a half
off the wind. We had the best hand—old Louis—at the wheel; and, really,
he did nobly, and had noble luck, for it never caught us once. At times
it seemed we must have it; Louis would look over his shoulder with the
queerest look and dive down his neck into his shoulders; and then it
missed us somehow, and only sprays came over our quarter, turning the
little outside lane of deck into a mill race as deep as to the cockpit
coamings. I never remember anything more delightful and exciting.
Pretty soon after we were lying absolutely becalmed under the lee of
Hawaii, of which we had been warned; and the captain never confessed he
had done it on purpose, but when accused, he smiled. Really, I suppose
he did quite right, for we stood committed to a dangerous race, and to
bring her to the wind would have been rather a heart-sickening manœuvre.
R. L. S.
TO MARCEL SCHWOB
_Honolulu_, _Sandwich Islands_, _February_ 8_th_, 1889.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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