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Walter E. Traprock - The Cruise of the Kawa
appeared in public, spending most of his time up his tree snoozing or reading an old copy of the New
Bedford "Argus," which he was never without. Tonight, however, he blazed forth in full regalia, wearing
his best blue marble, his visor-cap wreathed with nabiscus blossoms, his case-hardened countenance
lighted with conviviality. Following an interminable period of eating and drinking came a long speech by
Baahaabaa which, like most after-dinner speeches, meant nothing to me. Captain Triplett replied. The
gist of Triplett's remarks, memorized from the "Argus," were taken from the 1916 report of the New
Bedford Board of Trade. When he proclaimed that "besides cotton goods, 100,000 pianos were turned
out yearly and 8,500 derby hats every day," his audience, set off by Whinney, burst into uproarious
applause. The climax was reached when he lowered his voice dramatically and said, "And keep always in
mind, O Baahaabaa and friends, that the New England Fur Company uses daily 35,000 rabbit pelts!
Gentlemen, I thank you."
Pandemonium broke loose. Triplett was showered with congratulations. Music and dancing followed,
among others an amazing performance by a sturdy youth, Zambao-Zambino
(Young-Man-Proud-of-His-Waist-Line) who rendered a solo by striking his distended anatomy with his
clenched fist, varying the tone by relaxing or tightening the abdominal muscles. Whinney sang a very
dreary arrangement of "Mandalay" - his one parlor trick; Swank did an imitation of Elsie Janis's imitation
of Ethel Barrymore and I sang "The Wreck of the Julie Plante," an amusing ballad describing the loss by
drowning of an entire ship's company.
But the climax was yet to come.
There was a vague sort of commotion among the banqueters and Baahaabaa rose with amazing
steadiness and made another speech, short this time, but aimed point-blank at us, after which, through the
center of a sort of kick-off formation I saw approaching four of the most exquisite women in the world.
When ten feet away they fell on all fours and, using the Australian crawl-stroke, crept slowly toward us,
exhaling sounds of passionate endearment mingled with the heart-stopping fragrance of alova.
Beyond the glimmering lights, an unseen choir burst into the "a-a-a" of the national love-song.
It was a critical not to say embarrassing moment. These lovely ladies were very evidently presents,
banquet-favors so to speak, which we were expected to take home with us. To refuse them meant certain
offense, perhaps death. Triplett was plainly non-plussed. Swank and Whinney were too far gone to be of
any assistance. Summoning all my reserve strength I rose and faced the whirling assembly.
"Gentlemen," I said solemnly, "one final toast, to the President of the United States," - at the same time
draining a huge shell of hoopa. My companions followed suit and we fell simultaneously.
For the next twenty-four hours we were safe. After that, who knew?
CHAPTER V
A frank statement. We vote on the question of matrimony. A triple wedding. An epithalmic verse. We
remember the "Kawa." An interview with William Henry Thomas. Triplett's strategy. Safe within the
atoll.
In most volumes on the South Seas the chapter which I am about to write would be omitted. I mean to
say that we have reached a point in my narrative in which the status of our relations with the Filbertine
women, as such, must either be discussed frankly and openly, or treated in the usual tongue-in-cheek
fashion which seems to be the proper thing with English and American writers.
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