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Walter E. Traprock - The Cruise of the Kawa
It was not necessary for me to indicate further that I was thirsty. Two henchmen almost immediately
appeared with a large nut-shell of unfamiliar appearance, - it was about the size of a half watermelon and
bright red on the outside, - full of a pale pink liquid. The chief, one or two of the leading men, and the
rest of my party were similarly equipped. Raising his shell the chief and nobles said simultaneously
"Wha-e-a" and we drank.
Two minutes afterward I had a faint sensation of being borne away by the trade wind. Swank was beside
me and I heard him murmur, "I'm glad I don't have to sleep with Triplett."
The rest was silence, and the silence was rest....
We awoke many hours later. It was moonlight and we were lying in a complicated knot in the exact
center of our domicile. Unraveling ourselves we tested our heads with gentle oscillations.
Suddenly, in the distance, we heard a sound which sent a chill thrill running up and down our spines, the
sound of singing, a faint far-off chorus of the loveliest voices that ever fell on mortal ears. The tone had
that marvelous silver clang of the woodland thrush with yet a deeper, human poignancy, a note of
passionate longing and endearment, shy but assertive, wild, but oh! so alluring. We chinned ourselves
expectantly on the edge of our floor and waited, panting.
"A serenade," whispered Swank, and Whinney shush-ed him savagely.
Through the forest glades we could see the choir approaching, the dusky flash of brown bodies swaying,
palpitating to the intoxicating rhythm of the song. Slowly and with great dignity they entered the clearing
and stood, a score of slender creatures, in the full blaze of the moon, their lithe-limbed bodies clad only
in delicate mother-of-pearl rigolos.
Thus standing, they again burst into the melody of their national love-song. I transcribe the original
words which for simple, primitive beauty are without rival.
A-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a
E-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e
I-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i
O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
U-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u
and sometimes
W-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w
And
Y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y
The music is indescribable, I can only say that it is as beautiful as the words.[Footnote: "The peculiarly
liquid quality of Polynesian phonetics is impossible for foreigners to acquire. Europeans who attempt a
mastery of these sounds invariably suffer from what etymologists call metabelia, or vowel complaint." -
Prof. C.H. Towne, Nyack University.]
On the third encore they turned and slowly but surely filed out of the clearing into the forest. Long after
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