In the early sunlight of the next day, we tossed close off the buoy and
saw the city sparkle in its groves about the foot of the Punch-bowl, and
the masts clustering thick in the small harbour. A good breeze, which
had risen with the sea, carried us triumphantly through the
intricacies of the passage; and we had soon brought up not far from the
landing-stairs. I remember to have remarked an ugly horned reptile of a
modern warship in the usual moorings across the port, but my mind was so
profoundly plunged in melancholy that I paid no heed.
Indeed, I had little time at my disposal. Messieurs Sharpe and Fowler
had left the night before in the persuasion that I was a liar of the
first magnitude; the genial belief brought them aboard again with the
earliest opportunity, proffering help to one who had proved how little
he required it, and hospitality to so respectable a character. I had
business to mind, I had some need both of assistance and diversion; I
liked Fowler--I don't know why; and in short, I let them do with me as
they desired. No creditor intervening, I spent the first half of the
day inquiring into the conditions of the tea and silk market under
the auspices of Sharpe; lunched with him in a private apartment at the
Hawaiian Hotel--for Sharpe was a teetotaler in public; and about four
in the afternoon was delivered into the hands of Fowler. This gentleman
owned a bungalow on the Waikiki beach; and there in company with
certain young bloods of Honolulu, I was entertained to a sea-bathe,
indiscriminate cocktails, a dinner, a hula-hula, and (to round off the
night), poker and assorted liquors. To lose money in the small hours to
pale, intoxicated youth, has always appeared to me a pleasure overrated.
In my then frame of mind, I confess I found it even delightful; put up
my money (or rather my creditors'), and put down Fowler's champagne with
equal avidity and success; and awoke the next morning to a mild headache
and the rather agreeable lees of the last night's excitement. The young
bloods, many of whom were still far from sober, had taken the kitchen
into their own hands, vice the Chinaman deposed; and since each was
engaged upon a dish of his own, and none had the least scruple in
demolishing his neighbour's handiwork, I became early convinced that
many eggs would be broken and few omelets made. The discovery of a jug
of milk and a crust of bread enabled me to stay my appetite; and since
it was Sunday, when no business could be done, and the festivities were
to be renewed that night in the abode of Fowler, it occurred to me to
slip silently away and enjoy some air and solitude.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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