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Walter E. Traprock - The Cruise of the Kawa
they had disappeared our eyes still hung over the edge of our apartment and we could hear in our
memories the sweet refrain -
W-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w
Y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y
As we lay there like men in a trance I saw a dull red glow on the horizon and then, far off a rocket split
the velvet night, burst into stars and disappeared.
It was William Henry Thomas, aboard the Kawa - a signal of distress! Poor goof! We had completely
forgotten him.
I had a vague sense, shared, I think, by the others, that I ought to worry a bit about him. But it was no
use. One by one we lowered ourselves into the pit of our arboreal home and drifted into delicious
languorous reveries, not of William Henry Thomas. We had other things to think about.
CHAPTER IV
A few of our native companions. Filbertine diet. Physiological observations. We make a tour of the
island. A call on the ladies. Baahaabaa gives a feast. The embarrassments of hospitality. An alcoholic
escape.
"We really must do something about William Henry Thomas," I said on the day following our serenade.
My companions agreed, and we really meant it. But alas, how easy it is to put things off. Day after day
slipped by and we thought less and less of our boat-tending sailorman and more and more of what a
magnificent time we were having.
The chief's name was Baahaabaa, meaning in Filbertese "Durable Drinker." Among his companions were
several who soon became our intimates - Hitoia-Upa (Cocoanut That Never Falls) and Abluluti (Big
Wind Constantly Blowing).
In every case reference in names was to simple, natural beauties. How much more interesting than our
own meaningless nomenclature.
We soon found that these simple folk had evolved an admirable standard day in which there was no labor
whatever, no cooking, even. Imagine a civilization, and I use the word advisedly, in which the question
of having or not having a cook is eliminated. We were two weeks on the island before any one of us
realized that we had seen no fire. The matches which we used to light our pipes were thought to be
marvelous flowers that blossomed and immediately disappeared.
Nature, all bountiful, supplied a menu of amazing variety. Fruits, vegetables, combinations of the two,
edible flowers and, above all, the thousand and one kinds of nuts from which the islands receive their
name, were at hand for the plucking. Our breakfast grew on the ceiling of our bedroom and dropped
beside us with charming punctuality at the first shiver of the rising trade.
It must not be supposed that we were strict vegetarians. Many varieties of fish and crustacea, as well as
certain insects and some of the smaller birds were eaten raw. European and American civilizations alike
are hopelessly backward in this regard. True, we eat with avidity oysters and clams (except in the
Bapoo-period), knowing that they are not only raw but also alive. In the Filberts it was but a slight step
forward to pop into one's mouth a wriggling limpataa (a kind of marine lizard), whose antics after
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