White man looses it all in the tropical climate
GLENALVON,
AUCKLAND,
N.Z.
Sallie dearest:
Tonight we will have been here a week. It is the beginning of their spring which is rather late this year so it is quite cold and seems particularly so to us just coming from the tropics. Poor father hates it and goes around with his teeth chattering all the time but I do hope he doesn’t catch cold. I love it, as you know, and really feel better than I have since I left home. Not that I have been suffering from a long drawn out illness, but it surely does brace one up and makes you feel as though you really could and wanted to do something. I don’t believe that the tropics are any place for a white man to live because it takes a good sound person to stand the climate even for a few years and I don’t think it right for such a person to waste his good blood, strength and energy there. For it’s not long before he looses it all.
Those Americans we met in Apia recommended this hotel to us and it is splendid. Very much on the order of the Dysart but larger. The people, all English are nice, our rooms comfortable and the meals splendid.
The consul and his family are awfully nice and have been lovely to us – gave a tea for us the other day, have taken us motoring, etc. They have been here eight years so have become quite English in all their ways and I hate that. If I ever were consul’s wife I should flaunt all the American customs and ideas I could think of right in their faces and be proud to do it. Yesterday we had a lovely motor-ride with the mayor. The country around here is covered with extinct craters, scores of them in sight and all overgrown with lovely green grass and flowers. Don’t forget about my cards, in case you won’t get that last letter I’ll tell you again. I lost a lot of cards in my card case so am afraid I’ll run short. Will you have some more engraved and put a few in your letter every little while, then they won’t all be lost as they might if you send me the box full. Isn’t it funny that you have to put five cents on my letters there while I can put only two.
Oh! angel do write to me. I have just been living to get here and find mail from you but not a scratch. Only old papers and Panama records to father but readdressed by you. If you could ever guess how lonesome I am for you and how I want you every minute of the day and night. I know you would write to me oftener. Christmas is going to be awful enough but you’ll help more than you can know, if you will just write to me a big fat letter saying that you love me and miss me a little. Don’t think of sending anything but just ask Shang and Mary to write to me too. I hope the things that I sent you from Samoa will reach you all right.
More love than I can tell you.
Alice
Did father tell you that he lost his letter of credit and tickets around the world, that someone had taken them on the steamer and we were wildly excited. I had mine all safe. When we got here found a cable saying that the consul there had sent “papers” here, so we suppose he dropped them in Apia for the consul wouldn’t have bothered [to] wire about anything else.
Albatross
Oct. 2, 1912
UNION LINE
Dear Aunt Sadie:
Let’s see, where did I stop in my last letter. I believe we were in Apia – it is a most desolate spot – just civilized enough to be uninteresting and the only white people there beside the Germans are our American consul and his wife – the Mitchells – they are awfully nice. Took their meals at the same awful hotel and I think were quite as glad to see us as we were them. Really that hotel was the worst hole I ever hope to stay in, but the best in the place. Its only redeeming feature was a lovely big upper porch over the water where we spent all of our time. A little steamer from Fiji stopped for four days with three Americans whom we welcomed with open arms. A man and his wife from Washington and a fellow from Rochester who know Agnes [Lacy]. Poor soul immediately fell in love with me merely I think because he hadn’t seen an American girl for so long. I hope he’ll recover when he gets back to the States although he really was very nice and certainly cheered things up a lot there. We all would get the little two wheeled run-abouts they use there and go driving every afternoon and evening, out to some water falls or cocoa or rubber plantations or something of the sort – that being all there is to do there. Mrs. Mitchell and I used to sit and sew often in the mornings. Some of the natives that we got to know very well gave a wonderful feast and siva for us the night before we left. It was really beautiful, all out in the moonlight under the cocoanut palms. The day we left the princess and a number of others came down to see us off. She brought me a ring of hers and a cocoanut palm leaf with the fronds threaded in patterns through all kinds of bright flowers. It was really a work of art. They speak English and are just as charming and gracious as any people you would met any where.
The first three days out we stopped at a port each day, usually for five or six hours. Near Vauvau the ship stopped just long enough to lower a boat and let us go into the cave of the swallows. It is a beautiful blue inside, quite big and the water as clear as crystal. Then we stopped at Hapai, and Nukualofa where the captain took us to call on the British Consul. He gave us his horse and trop & we three drove all morning, then went back to an elaborate luncheon with them. These stops made the trip much easier, but heavens above since we left there I never left my bunk for three days. It was terrible but is fine today & we hope to reach Aukland tonight & oh! won’t I be thankful! Today “we” caught two enormous albatrosses on a hook and line. One measured ten feet with his wings out stretched. They got sea sick so we let them go. I lost my card case so am running short of cards. Will you have some engraved & send six or eight in a letter every now and then. Don’t send them all at once for they might get lost – c/o American Consul, Aukland, NZ
Oceans of love,
October 2, 1912 Alice
We shipped the 26th of September
Suitor #1
FIJI CLUB
Dear Miss Ross,
What an exceedingly civilized appearance this paper presents. I am really quite ashamed of it. To be in these glorious islands and yet sitting in the English Club is a combination, which I do not care the least about – and this club is so absolutely and thoroughly English. The rain is beating on the tin roof today as it has almost every day since I reached Suva. You should be just now somewhere in Tonga. I hope that it is not raining there, so that you can have some degree of comfort in going ashore. I wonder just where it will be. Vauvau is beautiful. Haapai is a most typical South Sea trading station without the admixture of any other element. Nukualofa is interesting as being the seat of government of the last of the native kingdoms left in the South Seas. I do hope that your visits to these places will prove interesting, and that you have met some agreeable people on the Tofua. My stay here in Fiji has been a bit spoiled by the weather, but I have tried to get all that I could out of it. In Suva itself there is practically no native life at all, but I have been by the Rewa river and also taken a drive a bit into the interior. Failing to find native life in Suva, I have found no small amount of interest in talking with and studying the strange characters which the sea seems to cast up in these little South Sea ports. Many of them have been virtual exiles for many years, and presumably were compelled to leave their own country for some reason or other and can never return. One of them in especial, a man by the name of Wilson, Scalper Wilson he is called, has lived in these islands for forty-one years. He is an American born in Clinton, New York and a soldier of the civil war. He is now over eighty years of age. A derelict past any hope of salvage, and past any hope of salvage, and cared for by some of the natives in their houses. His tales are exciting and stirring, both in regard to his experiences in the islands and in the civil war. His recitals in regard to the latter are remarkably intelligent and interesting, and, in reference to the campaigns of which I have made a study, are astonishingly accurate. This may sound as though my youth made me very easily deceived and imposed upon. That may be true to a certain extent, and yet his tales interest me mightily, and I cannot half but feel an interest in the man himself, rascal and reprobate though he may be. There are others here too, but he is the most interesting of them all, and I would be [absurd] enough, were I living here, to do what I could to help him. I enjoy talking to people of that sort, and endeavoring to sift the truth, which is strange enough in itself, from the elaborate fabrication which accompanies it. I attended the native Fijian church this morning. Despite what the almost united voice of the Traders say against them, these missionaries are good and honest men. The mistake, which they seem to me to make, is the superimposition of all that goes with religion in their own land upon these native Christian communities. In their land a frightfully unattractive meeting house, with rows of people in their best clothes, seated on hard benches is the outward sign of a religious service. Therefore so it must be here. Their imagination seems to present no other form to their mind. I should prefer to talk to these people in a large native house, in an old time assembly hall with the people seated in comfort on mats on the floor. And why should a native deacon or other church official wear an English cut black coat? Now just why should he? I truly believe that the spirit is there, but why should the form always accompany it in some minds? I would like to be told that I am wrong, for I should prefer to think that these men are absolutely right.
From where I am sitting now, I can look over the white and red roofs of this little town and out over the sea. Across that sea, Samoa is not so very far distant, but soon I shall have left this island world far behind. Samoa is the place however that holds the chief place in my thoughts and memory. The hurt, which I felt when I left Apia, is as sharp as ever, but I never forget that you told me that I did just what I should do. It will be a very long time before you receive this letter – months in fact, but I hope that you will remember some of the things to which I refer. I do not know where you will be when you read this, but I hope that it will find you very well and happy.
Very faithfully yours,
Prentis B. Gilbert
30 September 1912
Suna, Fiji
Queen of Hawaii – Pago Pago *****
Oceanic Steamship Company
Sydney Short Line
Hawaii, Samoa, Australia
S. S. Sonoma
September [1]7, ‘12
Angel dear:
We crossed the equator today so now I do feel clear out of everything and away from everyone for sure. Neptune “came aboard” as usual – lathered, shaved, and dunked in the tank all the crew and second class passengers who had never crossed before - I am mighty thankful that they didn’t tackle us for it was surely a messy performance.
This steamer is awfully nice but has a very small passenger list this trip so things have been dreadfully slow – there isn’t a young person on board except one English girl about twenty five but I would rather listen to what the wild waves are saying than talk to her. It was desperately rough the first three days but is fine now and the captain says we should have good weather the rest of the trip. I wasn’t really sick but didn’t feel good & didn’t go to any meals. It seems funny but I am getting worse all the time. It takes less to make me pea-green every ship I go on and it isn’t my imagination but I mustn’t get started talking about life at sea – used to think it very romantic, etc. but long since discovered that there is nothing I hate more. I feel like some kind of a caged animal herded in with hundreds of people that I shall never know, much less want to know, and simply can’t get away from anywhere I turn but must just stay there for a week or more and be agreeable and attractive to them all – now ain’t I a wretch to talk that way when I have such heaps to be thankful for!!
The night before we left Betty had some of the fellows in for dinner with us. They had been with us a lot and we know each other pretty well so afterwards we dressed one up – put a corset on him, a slip of mine and my yellow evening gown, a big black hat, ear rings, a pearl necklace, long white gloves and everything complete & then took him out to call on some of the people around there that we knew – we certainly had some killing times and I nearly had hysterics laughing. He made a stunning girl & noone knew him at first. I just enjoyed it all and suppose it will be my final spree till I get home because now I won’t get to know anyone well and especially will have to be on my dignity being with only older people.
The day we left was the queen’s1 birthday – 67 years old. She gave a reception so of course we all went and bowed low to her majesty. Everyone we ever knew it seemed came down to the steamer to see us off. They have a custom there of stringing flowers on a string – lais they are called – and then wearing them around their hats or necks. Everyone brought us some. I had about twenty five perfect beauties – blue hydrangea with maidenhair ferns, white temple blossoms, roses, marigolds with leaves from their sacred tree, carnations and every kind you could ever think of, oh! It was lovely and they were all so nice to us. We hope to reach Samoa Monday the 9th, just a week from Honolulu. I am just living in hopes that you sent us some letters there.
Love me always, won’t you Sallie dear & take good care of yourself.
Just happened to see in my diary and it is just a year yesterday since you and Shang came out to the Station. My what wouldn’t I give to have you that near right now. Really the bottom just seems to have dropped out of the earth and I am on it and just drifting aimlessly but always farther and farther away from you. Oh! You don’t know how I love and how I miss you.
September 15, 1912. You probably think by this time that we have been wrecked on some desert isle but a steamer calls here once a month so I kept my letter to you and will just continue. Not a scratch from you, oh! Sallie. I was so disappointed for heaven only knows now when we will hear from you.
We landed here on the 9th and Captain Crose, commandant of the Station and also Governor met us and insisted on our coming right to their house which is enormous as well as beautiful. Mrs. Crose is dear – has one daughter who just left for her first year away at school and another just six2. This island is the most beautiful one I have ever seen, very hilly and heavily wooded. It curves around so that it nearly surrounds the harbor. I have been sleeping out on the porch which looks right down toward the mouth of it, right over the water. The natives are perfect physical specimens almost every one – fine looking and very clean; a party of us walked to Nuuuli (3 u’s) a village seven miles from here to spend the night. When we arrived the women came out and greeted us with lava lavas (the lower part of their costume which they just wrap around them from their waist to their knees). These we took and went in bathing in their fresh water pool, then dressed and joined the men who were in one of the huts. These are round, thatched roof and really wonderfully made. Not a nail in them, but all bound together with rope made from coconut fiber. The floor is just small loose stones with thin palm leaf mats laid all around. No furniture because they sit and sleep right on the floor. They gave a siva (dance) for us. About ten men sit along in a row singing and going through all sort of motions, very rhythmical and graceful. Pretty soon a girl comes is and sits in the center. She is always the prettiest girl in the village and it is quite an honor to be selected for the position which she holds till she is married. Then the dance goes on with different songs and motion for about a half hour. You see it was quite an event for them, especially with the governor too along. So then they brought him and father and me gifts – pigs, chickens, coconuts, tappas and flowers. All of which we took home next day. That evening they gave us a big feast, spread on the floor on top of banana leaves. For this we had lobsters, crab, fish, chicken, pigeons, baked breadfruit which is fine and all kinds of fruit. We ate everything with our fingers and then went down to the ocean and washed our hands. Later they gave another beautiful dance for us. They were all dressed in flowers and banana leaves and their skin covered with coconut oil so that they looked just like burnished bronze. The girl in the dance wears an elaborate head-dress of shells, human hair that has been bleached, little mirrors and tufts of bright colored wools. Her hair is screwed up tight and then this thing bound on so awfully tight that she sometimes faints during the dance, but it is such an honor to wear it that she will suffer a whole evening often crying most of the dance rather than have it taken off. That night we slept right on the floor like the natives and next morning they nearly died laughing at all the clothes we wore and the long time it took us to dress. We walked back then and passed through about five or six other villages and at each one the people would all rush out and insist on us going in to drink kava with them. It is the native drink and made from the root of a bush. It is ground up then brought in before us, put in the kava bowl and a girl pours in some water, takes long pieces of coconut fiber and strains it through this, then with a great deal of ceremony a man brings you a little coconut shell full, bows low, then kneels & hands it to you while you say “[manuea]” – good luck and blessings on the household. It tastes like tooth wash and I can only stand a sip, but it pleases them if you take it. I have become quite accomplished in the art of speech making. They love it themselves and love to hear others so I thank them for their warm welcome, their hospitality, comment on the beauty of their houses, sivas, singing, etc. and wish that all sorts of rich blessings may come to them. Then the interpreter translates it all and they clap and laugh about it. Once they insisted on my dancing for them so I got up and did something between a sailor’s hornpipe and a Highland Fling and they all thought I was wonderful when I felt like a fool. Every house almost that we passed a man would climb up a coconut tree just like a monkey, bring down a lot of nuts, crack them open and give us each a green one to drink the milk from so that we were in a chronic state of drinking kava then coconut milk. The natives are the most generous souls you can imagine, just like irresponsible children and they love to give you presents. At different times certain of the chiefs gave me a tortoise shell ring inlaid with silver, usually with his initial(s) till I accumulated four – am sending three home – one for Marie, one for Ruth and thought Arthur Stewart might like the big one for his collection of stuff so will you give them to them? I must tell you about pig which is the greatest delicacy with them. One day we were all out walking and happened to pass a chief’s house just at dinner time and they urged us to come in. Well as a great honor they gave us pig. A man caught a big one near the house then he and another man got it on its back – took a pole, put it across its throat and each one sat on an end of the pole, smoking a pipe while the poor pig squealed itself to death which took about ten minutes and I never spent a more agonizing time, then they put it over a roaring fire for a little over five minutes, just long enough to sear it and brought it to us all bloody and luke warm from life. I pretended to enjoy it but it is the first thing I haven’t been able to at least taste – isn’t that terrible! There is only one princess of the island; she was in one of the more elaborate sivas given for us and after it was over she took off her little skirt effect of red hibiscus and bright leaves and put it on me with the garlands of flowers from around her neck and one custom that I think is especially pretty when they are dressed up they wear around their ankles wreaths of flowers. These she took off and put on my wrists and gave me her shell ring. Now, where in all the world would you find such hospitality? The day I left a native woman brought me a dress she had made for me & I am sending it home so that I wouldn’t be bothered carrying them so far. There is the piece of stenciled cloth for a lava lava which is wrapped around your waist, the last corner tucked in which holds it on. This reaches to the knees and the ruffled business goes over it. The big basket is for you, a little one for Shang and one for Mary and one for me with the mats. Lay them away for me or use them if you choose. The [yarns/yams] are for you. The shells were all given me by the natives and I thought Arthur would like them (won’t Mary bless me?) also one of the tappa cloths and if you want one take it, but they seem to me only suitable in bungalows or summer cottages. They really mean a lot of labor. The natives take the bark of a tree like our mulberry, soak it till loose, then take strips of it and pound it till it is thin, soak it again and pound some more. This is repeated many times till quite thin, then they stick it together with sticky sap and stain it as you see it with different juicy herbs. They wear them for lava lavas and the white people here use them for table covers or as curtains or on the wall. Will you tell Arthur how they are made and put away for me the ones you don’t want. There is a root of the kava tree too.
We left there (I forgot to say this is the 20th) after spending a week full of sivas, feasts, etc. and took a wretched little motor schooner (but the only one that makes the run) over here to Apia. There was only one cabin and that was the captains, which he turned over to me and although I didn’t even take off my dress I lay down all night. It was desperately rough and I of course was horribly sick. Even father was on the verge.
Really I think I should have nervous prostration if ever had to live in the tropics on account of the bugs. There are flying cockroaches four inches long with sort of a bill and they eat the callous skin off your feet while you sleep. If one ever tried it on me I think I should lose my mind. Then the centipedes are often nine inches long and are covered with a shell like a lobster. The spiders when spread out cover a dinner plate. The lizards aren’t so bad because they are very timid but the others just terrify me.
I “daresay” I had better send this now or you will be bored to death and anyhow the steamer is due in four days .
Loads of my love for you
Alice
This will doubtless reach you just about your birthday so here are extra heaps of love and very best wishes.
Diving Accident, “Luau”
September 12, 1912
Sallie dear:
I am so ashamed of myself for writing you all the stuff I did in my last letter – just as if I were a baby and unable to stand anything – as soon as it was mailed I regretted it and felt disgraced but do forget that I ever told you I felt that way for I know you have enough troubles of your own.
The funniest thing happened to me the other day in swimming. I dived too straight thinking it was deeper than it was and my head went into the sand clear to my ears. It surprised me so that it took me a few seconds to collect my thoughts and then I had to set about wriggling myself out so when I had got my head successfully dug out and come up, found that all the men had gone down to see why on earth I stayed under so long. Next day all the muscles in my neck were strained. Last night a native woman who is of the elite gave a “luau” or native dinner for us; there were twenty invited and the whole table was covered with bright flowers just sprinkled all over it. The things to eat were already there in little dishes around us and we ate everything with our fingers – fish baked in a [ti] leaf, sweet potatoes with coconut milk, chicken with taro leaves (like spinach) lobster cooked with coconut milk, stewed octopus (it took all the courage I had to eat it and even then had to swallow it whole) pig wrapped in sea weed and baked under the ground, toasted bread fruit, green onions with red salt, native nuts, salted fish, “poi”in a big bowl, tomatoes stewed with taro, crabs, and for desert coconut starch and fruit. Think of never touching a fork or spoon – oh! It was lots of fun, but all too rich for me. We leave tomorrow and I can hardly realize it.
Oceans of love,
Alice
