Honolulu harbor in 1898 retained more than a trace of its old time flavor of romance. In later years, when I again visited the port, the improvements had entirely eliminated many old landmarks that spoke so clearly of the historic past. At the time we were there in the Fuller, the remains of the hulk that once was the famous, or perhaps I should say infamous, Hawaiian man o' war, Kaimiloa, lay bedded in the mud flats at the delta of the Nuuanu River, a shallow part of the harbor between the railroad wharf and the waterfront of the city.

The Kaimiloa, a vessel of 170 tons, had once been called the Explorer, and was then engaged in the copra trade. King Kalakaua purchased her (she was a wooden steamer, by the way) for $20,000, and had her refitted as a ship of war. On the 17th of May, 1887, she was dispatched to Samoa to strengthen the hands of the embassy. Robert Louis Stevenson wrote, "The history of the Kaimiloa is a story of debauchery, intrigues, and waste of government property."

On this memorable cruise she was under the command of a half-pay British naval officer who must have been possessed of a keen sense of humor. "The Primacy of the Pacific" was King Kalakaua's dream, and the H. M. S. Kaimiloa was the apple of his eye. Her armament, so far as I could find out, consisted mainly of a heavy silver service boasting several large caliber punch bowls. In every way she was appointed with a view to the pleasure of the monarch.

In Samoa she got into difficulties. German men o' war in the port refused to recognize her colors, or return her salute, and she finally departed, returning to Honolulu by way of Pago Pago (what's in a name?), where her half-pay commander exchanged her small arms for gin, and had a month's debauch, as a sort of bracer, before reporting home to the Kanaka Admiralty. This cruise is said to have disgusted King Kalakaua with his navy, and further support was withdrawn. What became of the silver service, the armament, or the half-pay commander, cannot be recorded by the writer.

The forlorn remnant of this royal hulk, with planks bleaching in the sun, centered upon an interesting sector of the harbor. Here in the shallow weed-grown water numerous native women, wearing extremely proper Mother Hubbard wrappers (when dry), were always fishing industriously. No lines or nets were used, but the finny unfortunates were caught between the toes of the fishers. The fact that the natives of the islands relish live fish only added to the fascination with which we observed their operations. The harbor was also the scene of much active fishing by the Japanese, who employed a seine and several small sampans. So changed was all this when the writer returned to Honolulu, some eight years later, that it was with a pang of regret he recalled those old romantic, inefficient days.

Not far from the Fuller was the berth of the Morning Star. We could look over her decks as our ship rose higher with the discharge of her cargo. This famous missionary craft was a yacht-like three-masted schooner with auxiliary steam, the mizzen being built of steel and serving her as a funnel. The comings and goings of the missionary folk, male and female, for they busied themselves mightily on board the pretty craft, furnished us with something to look and wonder at when we were not otherwise engaged on board.

We established friendly relations with her crew, meeting some of them ashore at the concerts. Frenchy made the acquaintance of her cook and the "doctor" presented him with a can of curry powder. But no matter how friendly the crew of the Morning Star might be when ashore, they were careful to never go aboard the Fuller; also the moral atmosphere of this vessel was so strong that it pervaded the clothing of the whole ship's company, for none of them ever was seen in any of the barrooms frequented by sailors. However, Peter had met them while attending lauas and they were as fond of swipes as the next man, quite human, even to the extent of getting gloriously drunk.

One class of visitors on board the Morning Star, who seemed in the majority, were the army officers. And by the word "army" as generally used in the capital of the Hawaiian Republic at that time, was meant the Salvation Army. The Salvationists were very influential in affairs along the waterfront. We had been in port about a week when their advance guard came over our rail, sort of spiritual Uhlans descending upon us, after dusk, as we sat about between the time of clearing away the supper kids and lighting our pipes for a stroll ashore. And let it here be said that whatever good they may do in other fields, and there is no denying this, they were working in ground already fairly moral when they boarded the Fuller. My observation has been that the moral index, if I may coin a term, is inversely proportional to the amount of work. Hard workers, physical and mental, are as a rule fairly moral.

On the ship Fuller was gathered at that time as decent a lot of men as ever sailed the seas. I have listened to more obscenity in a short space of time among men who held themselves educated than fouled our ears during the whole voyage about which I am writing. For one thing, we always had something interesting to talk about, and our few leisure hours were too precious to throw away.

The head scouts of the army were no doubt attracted by the rather cheerful noises coming from our band, an organization making use of all the typical sailor instruments, the accordion, several mouth organs, a jew's-harp, and a drum made by Jimmy Marshall out of a small paint keg with canvas stretched on both ends. The missioners from the good ship Morning Star were very much interested, no doubt scenting talent for their concerts, and the party came aboard on what might be called a cutting out expedition.

"Yes, we were getting lots to eat." "No, the ship was not particularly hard. The captain was all right." "Yes, the mate did swear a lot; in fact he was a bad man, but we had seen worse." "Yes, the life of a sailor is a hard one. We all liked Honolulu. Etc. Etc." Old Smith had the party in tow, and acted as spokesman while the parley was going on. Jimmy in the meantime buzzed around, all eagerness to get in his fine work at panning the ship, the grub, and everything else.

One of the visitors noticed this. He was a tall thin man wearing the fatigue uniform of nothing less than a Major, and was evidently a student of the genus sailor, that is, a student of the sailor man going through his paces ashore; a down trodden unfortunate, sleeping in a bunk innocent of woven wire springs, without clean linen sheets, and having to wash himself in a common deck bucket, all of which of course is true enough. The tall man was drawn aside by Jimmy, his grizzled monkey face working like a nutcracker. Jimmy talked to such good purpose that the tall army officer handed him a card and asked him to call when ashore. Our band then struck up, and nobody could help but notice that Jimmy Marshall was a most proficient drummer.

The upshot of this was that a week later Jimmy took to his bunk sick. "Contusion of the liver," he called it. "Too much work an' the rotten grub 'as got me at last." There was much groaning in his bunk, and when Captain Nichols looked him over he shook his head.

The following day several army authorities came aboard to visit Jimmy, a mighty fine looking captain among them, for we all admired her. Two days after this Jimmy rose from his bunk with great effort and went aft while the captain paid him off. Kanakas came aboard for his dunnage, and Jimmy Marshall joined the Salvation Army. We saw him on the corner of Fort and Hotel Streets soon afterward beating a brand-new drum and utterly ignoring us. How the army did it remained a mystery until a young man from Brewer's office let fall the hint that army influence was exerted through the agents. Whatever it was, it worked, and for many a day we missed Jimmy. His "beef" on a rope was negligible, but he was clever at every sailor art and his singing was in a class by itself.

Scouse summed up the fo'c'sle opinion when he said, "Dot's a smart feller, dot Chimmy."

While the efforts of the Salvation Army were directed with vigor and enjoyed the support of the powers that were in the city, the devil was also well represented in the thriving little nest of humanity, way out there in the middle of the Pacific. This was before the time of the great fire that swept away the Japanese quarter, and before the yoshiwara had been established. Saloons had a pleasant ingenuous fashion of advertising in the daily papers. Such items as, "Drink at the Criterion Saloon," "Visit the Louvre Saloon, for your rickeys," were displayed in bold type. Intoxicated men reeled along the streets at night in the region bordering the waterfront, and assaults of various kinds were not infrequent. All nations were represented in the motley crew who formed the floating cosmopolitan conglomeration drifting about the port. The new republic being the eddy in the middle of the transpacific lanes where human flotsam gravitated, like Hong Kong and Port Said, it had become a nodal point of adventure.

Of course Honolulu itself rose serene and beautiful above this mess of wreckage that washed up on her beach. Beautiful homes were there, on the long avenues lined by royal palms, set in fine grounds, bordered by hibiscus hedges alive with flaming red. The date palm and the fan palm all added to the natural beauty surrounding her public buildings and her dwellings. The solid worth of the place far outweighed the ribald doings of the beach combers, not all of them, let it be said, in dungaree. Well-dressed adventurers were even more numerous, and no doubt far more dangerous, than the unattached sailors of the port.

The life in the Chinese and Japanese quarters, with their hundreds of small shops supplying the modest needs of their countrymen, was most interesting to us. In fact we were compelled to do most of our trading with these merchants, as two dollars per week was of little account in attempting to go shopping on Fort Street in the American or English stores. As for having a regular blowout, with drinks of civilization, at two bits per glass, it was simply not to be thought of. Watermelons, bananas, pineapples, soda pop, and ginger ale were our refreshments after an evening spent at the concert in Emma Square, or Thomas Square, and very often I went to a small Chinese coffee house on Beretania Street for a cup of Kona coffee and a plate of sinkers. If a steamer had arrived it was the custom to have a concert at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel; the band, by the way, being a particularly fine one under direction of Professor Henry Berger, and supported by the Government. King Kalakaua during his famous tour of the world conceived the idea of having such an organization in Honolulu. It was composed of native Hawaiians, all excellent musicians, and he secured Professor Berger to lead it. The frequent concerts inaugurated by King Kalakaua have been continued ever since. Bad as the old king may have been, the band will always remain a large item to his credit. Without it, Honolulu would be a bad place in which to live; many a poor devil has enjoyed the treat of the best music under conditions calculated to conserve its influence, who would otherwise have spent his evening in some hideous dive.

The concerts in the grounds of the Royal Hotel were a sort of dual function so far as I was concerned. When attending them in the company of Mr. Mclnerny I walked boldly into the lobby of the hotel and lolled about on the verandah like a gentleman. When out with Hitchen, Frenchy, Axel, or Tommy, and on the single occasion when we induced Old Smith to forsake the waterfront, I stopped on the lowly outskirts of the crowd among the natives, and the groups of Chinamen, Portuguese, and Japs. We enjoyed the music and had as good a time as the folks on the verandah; in fact we were more comfortable, for we dressed in cool clean dungaree with our cotton shirts unstarched and open at the throat. Pipes were always in order, lavish conversation was indulged in, and we got to be accepted on an equal footing by many of the natives. Nigger, the hatch man, a sort of top boss among these people, was one of the best of Kanakas, which is saying much; a white man under his skin, and a gentleman every inch of him. He introduced us to as exclusive a society as there is in the islands, and we always swore by him in spite of the way he treated us the first few days of our stay in port, but then, as he explained, it was the Republicans he was after, and of course us white fellows could look out for ourselves.

On Sundays, when I was not out driving with Mr. Mclnerny, Frenchy and Axel and myself would wander about the city looking at the strange sights. Tommy got to be one of the sightseers later on, and in our different excursions on foot we covered the place pretty well. The Palace (from the outside), the statue of Kamehameha I, the Museum, and the cottage in which Stevenson lived at Waikiki, were some of the points of interest visited. We also made a long hike out to the Pali. All of this is uninteresting but simply spread upon the record to show that the sailor-man of the old deepwater days, of which I write, was liable at times to enjoy many of the milder forms of dissipation now almost exclusively indulged in by Cook tourists and the winners of voting contests sent abroad by enterprising newspapers.