Feb. 3, 1912 
FOREST AND STREAM 
139 
To Honolulu in a Bark 
By PALMER H. LANGDON 
{Continued from last week.) 
Aug'. 9, 1911; wind, northeast by north; course, south, 
67° west. 
HE noon observation showed the ship to be 
somewhat south of her course and she was 
hauled to the westward. Everyone is now 
guessing the date of arrival and wagering din¬ 
ners for the winner. 
The moonlight nights are now simply glorious. 
This evening we had a full moon which arose 
directly astern, coloring the clouds as it advanced 
through the heavens. The skipper brought his 
phonograph up to the poop deck, attached some 
dance music, and the passengers had the novel 
pleasure of dancing the Virginia reel under the 
radiant light of the moon on the upper deck of 
In the passing, humanity will be gratified to hear 
that leprosy is slowly dying out. 
Shorten sail was the order after dinner, for 
there was a brisk breeze, and the skipper did not 
wish to arrive off Honolulu until morning. The 
mainsail was the first wing attacked, and the 
mate and his able watch were soon heaving 
downward on the three ropes which draw up on 
the yard the big canvas comprising the main¬ 
sail. These ropes, which take in sail, are called 
the clew garnets, the bunt lines and the leach 
lines. The term garnet is only applied to ropes 
on the sails known as “courses”; that is, the 
lowest sails on the main and foremasts and 
termed the mainsail and foresail. On the other 
the power of steam and the ugly unrigged freight 
steamer. 
During the day the passengers had an extra 
sight of aloft athletics, when one of the fore¬ 
mast hands climbed to the royal trucks, the very 
top of the main and foremasts, and rove the 
signal halliards. The sailor thought no more of 
shinning up the slender swinging pole 135 feet 
in the air than the passengers did of eating din¬ 
ner. 
In the evening we were sailing within five miles 
of the island of Molokai, from which flashed the 
light of Kalaapapa, and we were treated alter¬ 
nately to moonshine and rain cloud as the bark 
under her shortened canvas slowly made her way 
to the channel between Molokai and Oahu. 
Latitude 21° 31' north; longitude, 156° 13' west. 
Day’s run, 100 miles. Honolulu 75 miles away. 
Aug. 11, 1911; wind east-northeast; course, according 
to chart, shore and lights. 
At 5 o’clock in the morning Captain Ke'ly 
summoned on deck all passengers that they might 
REEVING THE SIGNAL HALYARDS. 
THE SECOND MATE OFF DUTY. 
a square rigger in a far away corner of the 
Pacific, while the bark glided o’er the silvery 
seas. 
Latitude, 20° 39' north; longitude, 154° 4' west. 
Day’s run, 100 miles. Honolulu 175 miles away. 
Aug. 10, 1911; wind, northeast by north; course, by 
compass and chart. 
“There’s the land, sir,” said the mate to cap¬ 
tain and passengers as they stepped on the poop 
deck after breakfast this morning, and over on 
our beam, towering above the clouds that hov¬ 
ered on the horizon, was the great round peak 
of Mauna Kea, 13,805 feet high, situated on the 
Island of Hawaii, and said to be the highest 
island mountain peak in the world. Captain Kel y 
figured that we were fifty miles away. As the 
clouds parted, more mountainous land could be 
seen, and then in another hour all was lost in 
the clouds as the bark left the island which Cap¬ 
tain Cook discovered, where he lived and died, 
and we sailed on toward Oahu, the island upon 
which Honolulu is located. 
In the afternoon the dim outline of Maui island 
was sighted, and then way ahead as far as the eye 
could reach was the island of Molokai, the land 
which contains the Hawaiian leper reservation, 
which means the forced abode of a colony slow¬ 
ly but surely dying from an incurable disease. 
sails these particular ropes are called clew lines, 
and every squaresail except the courses has a 
clew line, bunt line and leach line for taking in 
sail, as they have a halliard and a starboard and 
a port sheet for setting sail, excepting the lower 
yards which, being fixed, require no halliards for 
hoisting. Everything, therefore, is arranged 
with regular order with the proverbial excep¬ 
tions here and there as ashore to prove the rule. 
But when ropes and arms have clewed the 
sails from the deck, there comes the work about 
which sea writers have dwelt upon with such 
fervor and romance, viz.: the labor of climbing 
up the ladders, then out on to the yards and 
fastening the sails to the cross sticks, the work 
aboard ship known as “furling.” The entire 
crew of eight men were ordered up on the main 
yard, four on each side of the mast, with the 
second mate in the center, and with a lot of 
ye-ho-ing and tugging by all hands, the canvas 
was bundled into a roll and strapped to the yard 
by a rope known as a gasket. The same opera¬ 
tion followed on the foresail. And what an 
athletic sight it was to watch those hardy tars 
furling sail, stretched out across the yard with 
the foot ropes as a balancer, each with arms like 
iron bands, each with the shoulders of a bullock, 
each with the chest of a chimpanzee. Alas, must 
this fine sight and grand exercise vanish with 
see Makapuui Point, the first land of the island 
of Oahu, and upon which is situated a very pow¬ 
erful light in memory of the late President Wil¬ 
liam McKinley. Back of the lighthouse, in the 
dim daylight, was the sharp outline of the 
volcanic hills. I believe the geologists consider 
the Hawaiian Islands the last word on land mak¬ 
ing, with the exception of some small volcanic 
peaks which nature has thrust more recently 
into other isolated parts of the Pacific. And a 
very impressive scene it was to see the “last 
word” in the Oahu shore sandhills as the sun 
revealed them in his diurnal flight. Barring the 
first glimpses of the distant shoreland, the ship’s 
company had seen nothing but sky and ocean since 
leaving the Golden Gate. Not even a vessel had 
been passed, but now, in addition to seeing again 
the real land, a steamer was bearing toward us 
from Honolulu harbor. When she passed she 
dipped in response to our salute, the flag of old 
Nippon, and we made out the name of America 
Maru, belonging to Japan’s largest steamship 
company. 
As we quietly sailed by the famous promon¬ 
tory of Diamond Head, the captain, glass in 
hand, was watching the shore. Of a sudden he 
turned quickly to the mate at>d said, “They are 
after us ; call the watch !” “All hands out to take 
in sail,” shouted the mate to the watch in the 
