A Vagabond's Odyssey - free ebook by A. (Arnold) Safroni-Middleton

A VAGABOND’S ODYSSEY

Portrait of the Author...

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FOREWORD

Looking reflectively over this second instalment of my autobiography, I perceive that I am such a genuine vagabond that I have even travelled along in my reminiscences without caring for the material niceties of recognised literary method; so I have gone back over the whole track and tried earnestly to polish my efforts. It seems quite unnecessary for vagabonds to wear (metaphorically speaking) old trousers with fringed ends to the legs, penniless pockets, dusty boots, an unshaven face and dirty

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CHAPTER I

In Boston—Song-composing—Looking for a Publisher—How I secured him—I visit Providence—I play in the Military Band—Hard up IN those old days of my youth an atmosphere of romance gathered from old novels and dreams still sparkled in my head. I am going to tell of the adventures that followed directly on my boyhood, when before the mast I had crossed the seas with eyes athirst for romance, looking for the wonderful, the beautiful in distant lands, in men and in women, and for that opportunity to pe

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CHAPTER II

United States Military Music—The Roger Williams Park—Indians—Rhode Island Scenery and Amusements—Yankees—Experiences—A Miner from California IN Providence I made friends with a military band conductor. He was a jolly customer, hard up but good-natured and humorous, a real American bandmaster of the old convivial school, kind at heart and fond of good whisky. His greatest virtue was a commonplace one: he would always pay you back anything he borrowed, but unfortunately he was hard up and could no

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CHAPTER III

I travel and sell Bug Powder—Seeking my Wages—Pork and Beans—Reminiscences of Sarasate—I strive to outrival Paganini—Practising the Violin—I am presented with a Round Robin—My Blasted Ambitions AS the hot months came round my money gave out. Work was plentiful in the numerous factories that throb and thunder with machinery in Providence, but such work was not congenial to my temperament, and would ruin my fingers for violin-playing, as the post-digging job did. Nevertheless I should have availed

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CHAPTER IV

My Brother’s Return—Scenery—Old Providence—Robert Louis Stevenson—New York—At Sea—The Change IN August that year I at last received a letter from my brother, telling me he had left California and would arrive in Providence in a few days. I was delighted, for I was then completely on the rocks, having spent all my earnings on buying a violin bow and a stock of music! My comrade the Swede promised to come with me to meet my relative at the station. The next day we stood on the platform together at

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CHAPTER V

Home—On an Orient Liner—The Orchestra—A Sailing Ship—Paganini—Port Said—Honolulu AGAIN I am home and meet familiar faces, and enjoy the sweet security of home life and respectability; but soon the flight of time brings its inevitable changes both to my feelings and to those around me. I am no longer the prodigal son and a romantic novelty to the many who welcomed me at my arrival in the monotonous suburb; but nevertheless we are all moody companions in the sad drama of respectability. I had made

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CHAPTER VI

Changes in Samoa—Curios—A Moonlit Scene—Saints and Fakirs—Indians—Apia Town—Vailima—The Chief Mataaga—A Forest Ballroom—The Wandering Scribe—A Legend of Samoa—An old Shellback’s Yarns—Tuputa and the Sinless Lands—A Tribal Waltz IT was some time since I had left Samoa. Things there seemed to have considerably changed. Many of my friends, both natives and white men, had gone away to another island. I went up to Mulinuu village, expecting to see my friend Raeltoa, the Samoan, and to my great regret

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CHAPTER VII

Robert Louis Stevenson—Bohemian Incidents—I lead a Tribal Orchestra—The Big Drum—Robert Louis Stevenson at a Tribal Wedding—Robert Louis Stevenson in the Grog Shanty—Mr and Mrs Stevenson—The Last Man-eater of the Marquesan Group I NOTICED that the brief incidents in my first book, Sailor and Beachcomber , concerning my personal recollections of Robert Louis Stevenson were received with an interest which I had not expected. Had I anticipated this, or had he struck me as an adventurous old shellba

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CHAPTER VIII

Robert Louis Stevenson and his Friends—Stevenson as a Roadmaker—Timbo—Stevenson on the Schooner—The Skipper—“Tusitala” and the Natives—Conventionality—A Visit to King Malietoa—Stevenson’s Love of Adventure—Stevenson the Writer—Genius in the Southern Seas—Socialism I SAW Stevenson several times after that at society balls and concerts in Apia, where sometimes he seemed full of merriment and indeed the life of the party, and again at other times strangely silent, revealing the man of moods. I have

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CHAPTER IX

Honolulu—King Lunalilo—Chinese Leprosy—Kooma’s Reminiscences of Father Damien—Molokai—The Leper-Hunters—Father Damien at Molokai—Robert Stevenson’s Open Letter to Dr C. M. Hyde AFTER Samoa I think the Sandwich Isles are the most attractive islands in the Pacific. They are mountainous and the summits of Hawaii—pronounced Ha-wy-ee—rise to fourteen or fifteen thousand feet. All the islands of the group are volcanic, and rich both in live and extinct craters. I should not be surprised if some day th

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CHAPTER X

An Inland March—The Great Chief—A Siva Dance—A Sailor’s Party—Nina’s Samoan Fairy Tale—Death—The Golden Horn—Idols—A Marquesan Village—We ship as Stowaways I EASILY recall to mind my farewell days in Samoa, and the native trader with whom I lodged. His homestead was a comfortable bungalow, sheltered by coco-palms, and not far from Saluafata village. I had not much money at that time, and my friendly native only charged me just what I could afford to give him, which was, unfortunately, very littl

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CHAPTER XI

At Sea—A Fo’c’sle Argument—A Native’s Confession—Sydney Harbour THERE was a steamer in Apia harbour and I was lucky enough to get a berth aboard her. I think I had only been in Apia two days when she got steam up to leave for Fiji and New South Wales. I berthed forward in the forecastle. She was a tramp steamer and carried sail to help the decrepit engines and take the vessel to port when they broke down. Just before we left we took on a cargo of natives bound for somewhere! They were a mixed lo

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CHAPTER XII

Circular Quay—Figure-heads—A Derelict’s Night—The World’s Worst Men—Off to New Zealand—A Violin Prodigy—In the New Zealand Bush—My Maori Girl—A Pied Piper—A Recipe for the Happy Vagabond—The Philosophical Sun-downer I HAD lived in Sydney five or six years before, when I had run away from a ship in Brisbane and had come across to Sydney full of dreams and hope. I was then only fourteen years of age. How vividly I recall those days and nights. Once more I stand on old Circular Quay and seem again

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CHAPTER XIII

Matene-Te-Nga—A “Bush-faller’s” Camp—A Maori Village—The Canoe Dance—Song of the Night—Mochau’s Tale—An Open-air Concert—Violin Solos—The Brown-eyed Girl—Boyhood—Onward to the Past! I VISITED many places during my wanderings in New Zealand, among them the beautiful Bay of Akaroa, and many other romantic scenes. The New Zealand bush is wild and grand enough, and the Maoris deeply interested me. I visited one aged Maori warrior, called Matene-Te-Nga. Samoan tattooing was nothing compared to the en

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CHAPTER XIV

Memories and Reflection—A Picture of Robert Louis Stevenson—German Appreciation—Of Norman Descent—A Cannibal’s Execution—An Australian Sundowner—A Voltaire of the Southern Seas—Types DREAMING over New Zealand days and the many types and characters I have met destroys the continuity of actual events: my thoughts digress for a moment to various experiences and pictures which my memory has recorded. Memories, in the perspective of dead Time, vary with our moods. Sometimes the figures and events sta

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CHAPTER XV

The Lecturer—The Italian Virtuoso—Disillusioned Before I left New Zealand I secured an engagement to play the violin at a concert hall where the district assembled to applaud the talent of youthful pianoforte players and maidens who had cultivated voices. I was engaged to play violin solos, accompanied by the piano, and to perform suitable tripping melodies for old feet when the parents danced after the entertainment. One night, when I was hurrying back to my rooms after the dance, sick at heart

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CHAPTER XVI

Homesick—Off to England—At Colombo—The Stowaway—Home Again—The Wandering Fever returns—Reflections—Outbound for West Africa—On the West Coast—King Lobenguela—A Native Chief speaks—The Jungle—King Buloa and the Native Ceremony—An African Caprice—Music—A White Man among Wild Men—Nigeria—A Native Funeral—Night in the Jungle—Gold Mines—The African Drum ABOUT this time I became homesick and tried to find a berth on one of the homebound boats. I eventually secured a job on a tramp steamer, the s.s. P—

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CHAPTER XVII

A Negro Violinist—Sierra Leone—Some Violinists—Wagner—A Sea Chantey—Old Memories WHEN I got back to Sierra Leone I was glad of a rest and stayed at the English hotel for a couple of weeks. At Freetown I heard a negro play the violin really well. He held the fiddle to his breast, instead of to his chin, and played Raff’s Cavatina and La Serenata , very expressively. I complimented him on his playing, and discovered that a Hungarian violin-player had given him a course of lessons. He played Africa

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CHAPTER XVIII

My many Professions—I turn Poet—On a Tramp Steamer—“Shivering Timbers”—Modern Seamen—Struck by Lightning—I leave the Ship I HAVE been almost everything in my travels. Stow-away, sailor before the mast, bandmaster on a mail steamer, wet-nurse to Samoan twins, [13] bushman, boundary rider, woodcutter, sundowner, post-digger, snow-sweeper in North America, painter, deck-hand, “shilling-a-monther” in a liner’s stokehold, messroom steward, native overseer, private grave-digger, author, violinist to S

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CHAPTER XIX

Yokohama—A Japanese Family—Pretty Sarawana—A Tea-house Festival—A Geisha Orchestra—Sun Worship—Stowaways in the Stokehold—Reflections—The Kind Skipper I STAYED in Sydney for a few weeks and finally got on a Japanese ship, the Maru , and eventually arrived at Yokohama. I had never been to Japan before, and after tea I hurried ashore. On the wharf stood rows of Japanese low-caste women, dressed like guys. They had black teeth, and faces that looked as though they were carved out of yellow wood, an

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CHAPTER XX

Bombay—My Brother’s Grave—London Streets—Outward Bound—I play at Government House—Ballarat—Mosquitoes—Sightseeing in New Zealand—A Maori Dance MY next trip took me to Bombay, where I stayed for a few days at the English hotel by Fort Hill. The tropical scenery struck me as very similar to that which I had seen at Colombo, and the heat as terrific, though feathery tamarisks and palms shaded the tracks. The white population were waited on by the natives. My father was correspondent for The Indian

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CHAPTER XXI

At Sea in Dreams—In London Town—Off to Bordeaux—Our Chateau—In Biarritz—Old Madrid—I am a Spanish Troubadour—Mercedes—My old Comrade ceases to sing FROM those wild bush-lands I passed away into the cities and on to ships, then again back to the cities and seaports of the world. I have often thought of the old crews that I sailed with as a boy. I’ve met them sometimes in grog saloons and sailors’ homes in seaport towns of far-away countries; only some of them though—for many went down to the sea

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CHAPTER XXII

I arrive at the Organization—Bones and his Officials—Mabau, the Maid—Chief Kaifa—Mabau in trouble—I advise her—Thakambau’s Harem—Chief Kaifa on Christianity—Enoch—Escaped Convicts—Music—Witchcraft—The Hermit Missionary THE best part of truth is hidden in the heart of humanity. How different is that which we reveal from that which we think of in silence. Our outward demeanour is civilisation; our hidden inward cravings are barbarism. To some extent these pages will deal with the savage instincts

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CHAPTER XXIII

Father Anster—Fijian Legendary Lore—Forest Graves—The Blind Chief—Mythology and Love-making—Falling Stars—The Change—A Drove of Native Children—The Village Missionary—A Native Supper—An Old Chief’s Reminiscences—Fijian Poets and Musicians—A Tribute to the Humbug of Civilisation I SAT and gazed round that little lonely homestead by the shore-side at Naraundrau. The scent of the jungle blooms and dead grass crept into my nostrils as soft winds came up from the sea, blew in at the small doorway and

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CHAPTER XXIV

Back at the Charity Organization—Mabau—A Fugitive Bank Manager arrives—How the Organization secured Funds—English Refugees—Departure—Native Burial—A New Sect—With Bones again—Another Fugitive and his Experiences—Galloway’s Tall Hat—The Death of Mabau—The Haunted Wreck I RETURNED once more to the Organization rooms, so tired that I fell asleep without delay, and not until next morning was I introduced to several members whom I had not seen before. My toothless friend was mumbling away to an old “

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CHAPTER XXV

At Nuka Hiva—Gilbert the Astronomer—The Grog Shanty—The Astronomer’s Audience—Ah Foo, the Chinaman—Other Worlds than Ours—The Reformed Traders—The Death of Gilbert ABOUT a month after the foregoing incidents took place, and while I was in the Marquesas Group, I came across an old man who was one of those characters which are often to be met with in the wild, outer spaces of the world. He lived not far from the shore-side, at Nuka Hiva, and was an enthusiastic astronomer. His lone homestead was b

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CHAPTER XXVI

A Deck-hand on Board the Eldorado —A Socialist—A Fo’c’sle Fight—Buying an Island—Apemama—King Tembinok—The Eldorado sails—Tembinok’s Palace—Seeking the Enemy—The captured Chief—The Hurricane IN Sydney long ago I shipped as deck-hand on board the Eldorado , a schooner bound for Fiji and the Gilbert Groups. The first night out we squared the yards; the wind was aft and the canvas bellied out steadily as we dipped along under the stars at a good eight knots. On board, as saloon passenger, was a Mr

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CHAPTER XXVII

My England—Its Chief Stronghold—The Island Race—Barbaric Customs—Their Code of Morals—A Tribalistic Clash—An English Spring THIS chapter is written for the benefit of those natives who may come across my book in the South Sea Islands and elsewhere. Of course I know England well, because I am an Englishman. I escaped from my birthplace at an early age, shipped before the mast of a sailing ship and roamed the world. England is always the dear old Homeland to me, and so it might interest my readers

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