DREAMS OF LIBERTY 89 



" Dead, my boy," said one of the boat-steerers 

 gently. 



*'Dead?" echoed Mendez. 



He staggered back. When he had heard the 

 details of his brother's death, he burst into tears. 

 All the time his skipper remained aboard, the 

 poor fellow stood by the cooper's bench and 

 sobbed. 



While drifting at the mouth of Honolulu har- 

 bor one morning, Captain Winchester called for 

 a boat's crew to row him ashore. All hands 

 wanted to go. I was one of the lucky ones to 

 be chosen. The morning was calm and beau- 

 tiful, the water was smooth, and we pulled away 

 with a will. 



The city looked inviting at the foot of its 

 green mountains, its quaint houses embowered in 

 tropical foliage. On our starboard beam rose 

 the fine, bold promontory of Diamond Head, 

 and in between the headland and the city lay 

 Waikiki, the fashionable bathing beach. We 

 could see the bathers taking the surf in the 

 bright morning sunlight, while beyond stretched 

 a delectable wooded country, above the tops of 



