to Charles Baxter

Honolulu, 10th May 1889.

MY DEAR CHARLES,—I am appalled to gather from your last just to hand that you have felt so much concern about the letter.  Pray dismiss it from your mind.  But I think you scarce appreciate how disagreeable it is to have your private affairs and private unguarded expressions getting into print.  It would soon sicken any one of writing letters.  I have no doubt that letter was very wisely selected, but it just shows how things crop up.  There was a raging jealousy between the two yachts; our captain was nearly in a fight over it.  However, no more; and whatever you think, my dear fellow, do not suppose me angry with you or —; although I was annoyed at the circumstance—a very different thing.  But it is difficult to conduct life by letter, and I continually feel I may be drifting into some matter of offence, in which my heart takes no part.

I must now turn to a point of business.  This new cruise of ours is somewhat venturesome; and I think it needful to warn you not to be in a hurry to suppose us dead.  In these ill-charted seas, it is quite on the cards we might be cast on some unvisited, or very rarely visited, island; that there we might lie for a long time, even years, unheard of; and yet turn up smiling at the hinder end.  So do not let me be ‘rowpit’ till you get some certainty we have gone to Davie Jones in a squall, or graced the feast of some barbarian in the character of Long Pig.

I have just been a week away alone on the lee coast of Hawaii, the only white creature in many miles, riding five and a half hours one day, living with a native, seeing four lepers shipped off to Molokai, hearing native causes, and giving my opinion as amicus curiæ as to the interpretation of a statute in English; a lovely week among God’s best—at least God’s sweetest works—Polynesians.  It has bettered me greatly.  If I could only stay there the time that remains, I could get my work done and be happy; but the care of my family keeps me in vile Honolulu, where I am always out of sorts, amidst heat and cold and cesspools and beastly haoles. [152]  What is a haole?  You are one; and so, I am sorry to say, am I.  After so long a dose of whites, it was a blessing to get among Polynesians again even for a week.

Well, Charles, there are waur haoles than yoursel’, I’ll say that for ye; and trust before I sail I shall get another letter with more about yourself.—Ever your affectionate friend

R. L. S.