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Walter E. Traprock - The Cruise of the Kawa
fact remains that on some of our excursions to neighboring islands, when, having pulled back the
terrestrial cork of the atoll, we had eased our tight little craft into the outer waters, I experienced a
distinct dorsal chill.
Both Kippiputuonaa and Lupoba-Tilaana felt this to a marked degree, but most of all was it apparent in
its affect on Mrs. Whinney whose maiden name, Babai-Alova-babai (Triple extract of Alova), only
faintly describes the intoxicating fragrance of her beauty.
"Tiplette, naue aata b'nau boti!" she used to cry. "Do not let Triplett go in the boat."
The old man was insistent. He had worked William Henry Thomas to exhaustion rerigging the craft and
then thrust him out, bag and baggage. But I must admit that between them they had done a good job.
William Henry and his bride took up lodgings in a tall tree near the lagoon whence they used mournfully
to regard the floating home in which they had spent their unhallowed honeymoon. When we actually
began to sail her the William Henry Thomases disappeared from view as if the sight were too much for
them, and we seldom saw them thereafter.
Triplett's ingenuity was responsible for the bamboo mast, woven paa-paa sail and the new
yard-arm, which, in the absence of a universal joint was cleverly fashioned of braided eva-eva.
On our cruises our wives spent a large part of their time overboard, sporting about the ship like
porpoises, ever and anon diving deep under our counter only to appear on the other side decked with
polyp buds as if crowned by Neptune himself. At this game Babai-Alova-Babai excelled. Never shall I
forget the day she suddenly popped up close alongside and playfully tossed a magnificent pearl into
Triplett's lap.
But, as I say, I did not feel at ease. Perhaps it was my experience with the wak-waks, - perhaps, -
however, I anticipate.
Our merriest jaunts were nearer home. Most memorable of all was our first trip to the mountain, that
gorgeous pile on the center of the lagoon.
It was early morning when we set out, disdaining our trim "Tree-with-Wings" from the deck of which
Triplett watched our short three-mile swim across the still water. At every stroke flocks of iridescent
dew-fish rose about us uttering their brittle note, "Klicketty-inkle! Klicketty-inkle!" [Footnote: One of
the pleasantest sights imaginable is that of the natives gathering these little creatures as they rise to the
surface at dawn. The dew-fish or kali-loa are similar to our white-bait, but much whiter. W.E.T.]
We were all wearing the native costume and Swank, I remember, caught his rigolo on a coral
branch and delayed us five minutes. But we were soon on the inner beach laughing over the incident
while Babai made repairs.
The path up the mountain led through a paradise of tropical wonders. On this trip Whinney was easily the
star, his scientific knowledge enabling him to point out countless marvels which we might not otherwise
have seen. As he talked I made rapid notes.
"Look," he said, holding up an exquisite rose-colored reptile. "The tritulus annularis or pink
garter snake! Almost unheard of in the tropics."
Kippy insisted on tying it around her shapely limb. Then, of course, Babai must have one, too, and great
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