The Cruise of the Kawa | Page 7

every description.
In the shadow of the broad panjandrus leaves we could see whole
loaves of breadfruits falling unassisted to the ground while between the
heavier thuds of cocoanuts and grapefruit we heard the incessant patter
of light showers of thousands of assorted nutlets, singing the
everlasting burden and refrain of these audible isles. It was this
predominant feature--though I anticipate our actual decision--which
ultimately settled our choice of a name for the new archipelago,--the
Filbert Islands, now famous wherever the names of Whinney, Swank
and Traprock are known.
It was now about half-past two bells and an excellent time to make a
landing, preparations for which were forthwith set in motion. Now, if
ever, we had occasion to bless the tightness of the Kawa, for in the
confusion below, somewhat ameliorated by the labors of William
Henry Thomas, we found most of our duffle in good order, an
occasional stethoscope broken or a cork loose, but nothing to amount to
much. Our rifles, side-arms, cartridges, camera and my bundles of
rejected manuscript were as dry as ever. I was thankful as I had counted
on writing on the other side of them. A tube of vermilion had run
amuck among Swank's underclothes but, in the main, we were intact.
After some delay in getting our folding-dory stretched on its frame, due
to Whinney's contention that the bow and stern sections belonged on
the same end, we finally shoved off, leaving William Henry Thomas to
answer the door in case of callers.
In the brief interval of our passage, I could not help noticing the
remarkable submarine flora over which we passed. The water, perfectly
clear to a depth of four-hundred and eighty-two feet, showed a
remarkable picture of aquatic forestry. Under our keel spread
limeaceous trees of myriad hues in whose branches perched variegated
fish nibbling the coral buds or thoughtfully scratching their backs on
the roseate bark. Pearls the size of onions rolled aimlessly on ocean's
floor. But of these later; for the nonce our tale leads landward.

As our canvas scraped the shingle we leaped out, tossing the dory
lightly beyond the reach of the waves, and fell into the agreed-upon
formation. Triplett in the van, then Whinney, Swank and myself, in the
order named. Beyond the beach was a luxuriant growth of haro.
[Footnote: Similar to the photographer's grass; is used in the foreground
of early Sarony full lengths. I have seen a similar form of vegetation
just off the fairway of the third hole at Garden City.] Into this we
proceeded gingerly, intrepid and alert, but ready to bolt at the slightest
alarm.
The nut noises became constantly more ominous and menacing, but
still we saw no sign of human life. Near the edge of the forest we came
to a halt. Plainly it would be unwise to venture within range of the
arboreal hailstones without protection, for though our pith-helmets
were of the best quality they were, after all, but pith, and a cocoanut is
a cocoanut, the world over. While we were debating this point and
seeking a possible way into the jungle which was not overarched by
trees I heard a low bird-call, as I supposed, the even-song of the
cross-billed cuttywink. On the instant a towering circle of dark forms
sprang from the haro and at a glance I saw that we were completely
surrounded by gigantic Filbertines!
Darting a look over my shoulder I noted to my dismay an enormous
land-crab towing our dory seaward. It was a harrowing moment. As
agreed upon, we waited for Triplett to take the initiative and in the
interim I took a hasty inventory of our reception committee. The
general impression was that of great beauty and physique entirely
unadorned except for a narrow, beaded water-line and pendent apron
(rigolo in the Filbertine language) consisting of a seven-year-old clam
shell decorated with brightly colored papoo-reeds. The men's faces
were calm, almost benign, and as far as I could see unarmed except for
long, sharply pointed bundles of leaves which they carried under their
arms. Their tattooing was the finest I have ever seen.
At this moment, however, my observations were concluded by
Triplett's suddenly wheeling and saying sharply, "Traprock! ... target
practice!" This was a stunt we had often performed for the amusement

and mystification of kindly cannibals in the Solomons. I had seen it in
vaudeville and taught it to Triplett. As was my custom, I had in the
pocket of my singlet a number of ship biscuit. Plucking out one of these
I placed it on my forehead and nose, holding it in place with the index
finger. Triplett leveled his Colt a good yard above my head and fired, I
on the instant pressing the biscuit so that it fell in pieces to