Hawaii (118 page)

But most memorable of all he saw that day was the red earth. Down millions of years the volcanic eruptions of Kauai had spewed forth layers of iron-rich rocks, and for subsequent millions of years this iron had slowly, imperceptibly disintegrated until it now stood like gigantic piles of scintillating rust, the famous red earth of Kauai. Sometimes a green-clad mountain would show a gaping scar where the side of a cliff had fallen away, disclosing earth as red as new blood. At other times the fields along which the men rode would be an unblemished furnace-red, as if flame had just left it. Again in some deep valley where small amounts of black earth had intruded, _ the resulting red nearly resembled a brick color. But always the soil was red. It shone in a hundred different hues, but it was loveliest when it stood out against the rich green verdure of the island, for then the two colors complemented each other, and Kauai seemed to merit the name by which it was affectionately known: the Garden Island.

For out of its lush red soil, teeming with iron, grew a multitude of trees: palms that clung to the shore; pandanus that twisted itself into dense jungle; banyans with their thousand aerial roots; hau and kou, the excellent trees of the islands; swift-growing wild plum that had been imported from Japan to provide burning fagots for the laborers; and here and there a royal palm, its moss-pocked trunk rising majestically toward the heavens. But there was one tree specially dedicated to Kauai, and it made both life and agriculture on the island possible. Wherever the powerful northeast trades whipped sea and salt air inland, killing everything that grew, men had planted the strange, silky, gray-green casuarina tree, known sometimes as the ironwood. Groves of this curious tree, covered with ten-inch needles and seed cones that resembled round buttons, stood along the shore and protected the island. The foliage of the casu-

arina was not copious and to the stranger each tree looked so frail that it seemed about to die, but it possessed incredible powers of recuperation, and what it thrived on most was a harsh, salty trade wind that whipped its fragile needles into a frenzy and tore at its cherry-bark trunk; for then the casuarina dug in and saved the island. The sea winds howled through its branches; its frail needles caught the salt; the force of the storm was broken and all who lived in the shadow of the casuarina tree lived securely.

As the Japanese rode through this verdant wonderland, a storm flashed in from the sea, throwing tubs of water over the land, but Wild Whip, holding his prancing horse under control, shouted to his interpreter, "Ishii-san, tell the men that on Kauai we don't run from stormsl" The frail little interpreter ran from wagon to wagon, shouting, "On this island it rains a dozen times a day. Soon the sun comes out. We never bother." And as he predicted, after a few minutes the wild storm moved on to sulk in a valley until a rainbow was flung across it, and it was toward this rainbow that Kamejiro and his companions rode.

They had come to the valley of Hanakai, the Valley of the Sea, but they were not yet aware of that fact, for the highway upon which they rode was at this point more than a mile inland; but leading off from it, to the right and toward the sea, appeared a spectacular lane. It was marked by twenty pairs of royal palms, gray-trunked and erect, that Whip had sent home from Madagascar on one of the H & H ships, and these magnificent sentinels guarded the road as stone lions had once stood watch for the Assyrians. Entering the deep shade of the lane, the workmen sensed that they were approaching something special, and after a while they came upon twenty pairs of Norfolk pine, those exalted sculptural trees that had originally grown on only one South Pacific island, from which Whip had some years ago recovered two hundred young trees which he had scattered throughout Hawaii. Beyond them came the beauty of the Hoxworth lane: to the left and north stood an unbroken line of croton bushes imported by Whip from Guadalcanal in the Solomons, and of all that grew on his plantations, these were his favorites, these low sparkling bushes whose iridescent green and red and purple and gold and blue leaves were a constant source of wonder; but to the right ran a long row of hibiscus trees, low shrublike plants that produced a dozen varieties of fragile, crepelike flowers, each with its own dazzling color; Whip's favorite was the bright yellow hibiscus, bigger than a large plate and golden in the sunlight.

The lane now turned sharply south and entered upon a huge grassy area. As was the custom in Hawaii at that time, no specific roadway led up to the Hoxworth mansion. Over the spacious lawn, guests drove as they wished, for no matter how badly the grass was scarred by such usage, the next day's inevitable rain and sunlight cured it. On the lawn there were only two trees. To the right stood an African tulip tree with dark green leaves and brilliant red flowers scattered prodigally upon it, while to the left rose one of the strangest trees in

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nature, the golden tree which Whip had found in South America. Each year it produced a myriad of brilliant yellow flowers, and since it stood some fifty feet high, it was a spectacular exhibit.

The house was long and low, built originally in China of the best wood, then taken apart and shipped in an H & H cargo ship to Hanakai. It ran from northeast to southwest, and its southern exposure consisted of eight tall Greek pillars supporting a porch upon which the life of the mansion took place. For at Hanakai the view from the lanai�the open porch�commanded attention. A soft green grassy lawn fell away to the edge of a steep cliff some three hundred feet above the surface of the sea, which here cut deeply inland forming the bay of Hanakai. When a storm of major proportions fell upon Kauai, the wild ocean would sweep its penetrating arm into the bay and find itself impounded. Then it would leap like a caged animal high up the sides of the red cliff. Its topmost spray would poise there for a moment, then fall screaming down the sheer sides. To see such a storm at Hanakai was to see the ocean at its best. But to the north and east, from where the storms blew, there was a row of trees, not visible from the mansion, and it was upon these that the life of Hanakai depended, for they were the casuarina trees, and it was their needles that sifted out the salt and broke the back of the wild storm; they were the speechless, sighing workmen, and if the golden tree was the marvel of that part of Kauai, it existed solely because the casuarinas fought the storms on its behalf.

Within the protection of the casuarinas Wild Whip paused to review the beauty of his favorite spot in the islands. It had been given him by his doting grandfather, Captain Rafer Hoxworth, who had got it from the Alii Nui Noekni, and here Whip had brought his treasures from around the world. Hawaii's best mangoes grew at Hanakai, its most brilliant hibiscus and its best horses. As Whip now studied the red earth and heard the ocean growling at the cliffs he muttered, "Lucky Japanese who came here to work."

Kamejiro and his fellow laborers did not, of course, accompany Whip to the mansion. At the end of the lane Mr. Ishii, the interpreter, took them off in quite the opposite direction, toward the casuarina trees, and after half a mile he brought them to a long low wooden building consisting of a single room. It contained three doors, a few windows, half a dozen tables and some sagging wooden beds. Outside were two unspeakably foul toilets with a well between. There were no trees, no flowers, no amenities of any kind, but there was a copious amount of red mud, a thicket of wild plum from which firewood could be cut, and in all directions the green wilderness of growing sugar canes. This was the Ishii Camp, so known because of the interpreter who ran it.

In this particular camp, there were no women, no facilities for recreation, no doctor, and no church. There was lots of rice, for Wild Whip insisted that his men be fed well, and in each camp�for this was merely one of seven on Hanakai Plantation�one man was ap-

pointed fisherman, bringing to the table whatever he caught on the fruitful reefs of Kauai. It was Whip Hoxworth's full intention that any laborer whom he imported should work for him five or ten years, save his money, and return to Japan. There was thus no need for women or churches, and little need for doctors, since he hired only the ablest-bodied.

At Hanakai the Hoxworth laborers rose at four in the morning, ate a hot breakfast, hiked to the fields so as to be there at six and worked till six at night, hiking back to the Ishii Camp on their own time. For this they were paid sixty-seven cents a day, but they did get their food and a sagging bed. During harvest, of course, they worked nineteen hours a day for no extra money.

On the first workday Kamejiro Sakagawa marched home at dusk, feeling great strength in his bones, and looked about for some place in which to bathe, for like all Japanese he was fanatic in his attention to cleanliness, and he was dismayed to find that no provisions had been made. Water could be pumped from the well, but who could bathe properly in cold water? On this first night he had to make do, protestingly, and he listened to his mates growling as they recalled the sweet hot baths of Hiroshima, and that night he went to see Ishii-san and said, "I think I will build a hot bath for the camp."

"There's no lumber," Ishii-san said. It was his job to protect the interests of Mr. Hoxworth and he did so.

"I saw some old boards at the edge of the sugar field," Kamejiro replied.

"You can have them, but there are no nails," Ishii-san warned.

"I saw some nails where the irrigation ditch was mended."

"Were they rusted?"

"Yes."

"You can have them."

On his second full day ashore in Hawaii, Kamejiro began building his hot bath. It was most tedious work, for he could not find lumber that fitted nor could he get hold of a piece of galvanized iron for the bottom, where the fire was to be built. At last he grabbed Ishii-san, who was skittish about the whole affair, and made the interpreter speak to Mr. Hoxworth�Hoxuwurtu, the Japanese men called him �and the tall boss growled, "What do you want galvanized iron for?"

"To take a bath," Kamejiro said.

"Use cold water. I do," Hoxworth snapped.

"I don't!" Kamejiro snapped back, and Hoxworth turned in his saddle to study the runty little man with the long arms that hung out from his body.

"Don't speak to me that way," Hoxworth said ominously, pointing his riding crop at him.

"We have to be clean," Kamejiro insisted, not drawing away from the crop.

"You have to work," Hoxworth said slowly.

"But after work we want to be clean," Kamejiro said forcefully.

"Are you looking for a fight?" Hoxworth cried, dropping from his

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horse and throwing the reins to an attendant. Ishii-san, the interpreter, began to sweat and mumbled his words, replying on behalf of Kamejiro, "Oh, no, sir! This man is a fine workman!"

"Shut up!" Hoxworth snapped, pushing his little assistant aside. Striding up to Kamejiro he started to grab him by the shoulders, but as he did so he saw the enormous musculature of the stubborn workman, and he saw also that Kamejiro had no intention of allowing even the boss to touch him, and the two men stood in the cane field staring at each other. The other Japanese were terrified lest trouble start, but Kamejiro, to his surprise, was unconcerned, for he was studying the big American and thinking: "If he comes one step closer I will ram my head into his soft belly."

In mutual respect the tension dissolved, and Wild Whip asked Ishii-san, "What is it he wants?"

"He's buildiijg a bath for the camp," Ishii repeated.

"That's what I don't understand," Hoxworth replied.

"Japanese cannot live unless they have a bath each day," Kamejiro explained.

"Pump the water and take a bath," Whip said.

"A hot bath," Kamejiro replied.

For a long moment the two men stared at each other, after which Whip laughed easily and asked, "So you've got to have some corrugated iron?"

"Yes," Kamejiro said.

"You'll get it," Hoxworth replied. As if they were boys playing, Whip winked at Kamejiro, and chucked him under the chin with the whip. With one finger the Japanese laborer slowly moved the crop away, and the two men understood each other.

When the bath was built, a square tub four feet deep on stilts, Kamejiro rigged a triple length of bamboo which delivered water from the pump. Beneath the galvanized iron he built a fire with wild plum branches, and when the water was hot he clanged a piece of iron to summon the camp. Each man stripped, hung his clothes on a pole spiked with nails, and was allowed one panful of hot water with which to soap down outside the tub and rinse off. Then, mounting three wooden steps, he climbed into the steaming water and luxuriated for four minutes. While he was doing this, the next man was cleansing himself, and as the first crawled out reluctantly, the second climbed in eagerly. Kamejiro tended the fire and added new water as it was needed.

The first ten men to use the water paid a penny each, and cast lots to determine who had the right to climb in first. After the first ten, each man paid half a cent, and as many as wished used the water. Long after night had fallen, when the pennies were safely stowed away and the other men were eating their evening meal, Kamejiro himself would undress, place one more stick under the iron�for he liked his bath hotter than most�and after carefully soaping himself outside and washing off, he would climb into the remnants of the water. Its heat would encompass him and make him

forget Hiroshima and the difficulties of the day. To the east the casuarina trees kept away the storm, and in the hot bath all was well.

When he returned to his bunk he invariably looked with deep respect at his only significant possession, the black-framed portrait of the Japanese emperor. Before this grim and bearded leader the little workman bowed; the one reality in his life was that the emperor personally knew of his daily behavior and was grieved when things went poorly. Each night before he went to sleep he weighed his day's actions and hoped that the emperor would approve.