Small countries seldom have a navy of any great importance and still more rarely do such vessels rise to the prominence of being able to create an “incident” capable of affecting the comity of nations. Although the existence of a Hawaiian naval vessel is hardly remembered, still one did exist and, furthermore, bid forcefully come to the attention of several foreign chancelleries.
King Kalakaua was a merry monarch, addicted to personal pleasures and given to visions of aggrandizement. Left to himself he would have expended his energies within his kingdom, like Old King Cole, calling for his cup, in the form of straight gin, or okolehao, his pipe plus a game of poker, and his fiddlers three metamorphosed into hula girls with ukuleles.
However this was not to be. The King was descended from an old line of island chiefs, and was a great admirer of Kamehameha who, with fine military ability, had unified the several Hawaiian islands and put down the previous never-ending intertribal and interisland strife. He had been called the Napoleon of the Pacific, and what was there to prevent the appearance of another Napoleon? Also, about the time that Kalakaua got well into his kingship, in 1881 to be exact, he made a grand tour of the world during which he was recognized by the sovereigns of Japan, China, the states of India, and Egypt, and was received as a reigning monarch in France, England, and the United States. Few men have experienced such a tour of elation, so it is small wonder that his well-developed vanity was flattered until the theory of the “divine right of kings” sprouted into something like maturity. On his return he ordered a belated coronation with two custom-built crowns, and installed for the first time ladies in waiting at Court.
Without doubt he was badly advised by his councilors. The Premier of the kingdom was at that time Walter Murray Gibson, a prime mover in the king’s ambitious diplomatic scheme. The background was an idea to promote a sort of Monroe Doctrine for the Pacific with Hawaii as the leader, the “primus inter pares.” This idea had been talked of for many years. In 1883 Captain Trippe and F. L. Clark were sent from Honolulu to visit the Gilbert and also the New Hebrides islands in behalf of the plan, and a protest was addressed to all the leading powers serving notice on them against further annexation of territory in the Pacific and stating that Hawaii claimed exclusive right to “assist them in improving their political and social conditions.”
The first step to be taken to further this intention was to attempt to obtain the cooperation of the kingdom of Samoa, but unfortunately this group of islands was, and had been for some time, the object of much interest and concern by three great powers. At this very time a conference on the subject was about to be held at Washington in which Great Britain, Germany, and the United States were to settle the status of those islands. To add to the embarrassment of our State Department, a commission was at this precise moment delivered to Mr. Carter, the Hawaiian Minister at Washington, appointing him Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary “of and for the kingdom of Samoa.” In addition, Mr. Carter was also endeavoring to secure a naval base at Pearl Harbor. All this looked very fishy to the British and German chancelleries.
On January 23, 1887, the British Foreign Office sent a sharp note to the British Commissioner at Honolulu instructing him to request the “Hawaiian government not to interfere in the political affairs and status of Samoa.” Lord Salisbury was worried lest the affair should precipitate a landing by Germans and thus pave the way for annexation of the disputed territory. At the same time Bismarck instructed the German Ambassador at Washington to inform the State Department, “in case Hawaii, whose king acts according to financial principles which it is not desirable to extend to Samoa, should try to interfere in favor of Samoa the king of the Sandwich Islands would therefore enter into a state of war with us.”
The political atmosphere would therefore appear to be anything but propitious for the proposed enterprise, but the King blundered on, possibly rather pleased with the publicity he was attracting.
In December, 1886, John E. Bush, Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary, sometimes called the Lord High Commissioner, left Kalakaua for Samoa.
Here enters the Hawaiian Navy. The British steam vessel Explorer of 171 tons was purchased at a cost of $20,000 and rechristened Kaimiloa. The Explorer had been launched in Scotland in 1871 under the name Firebrick, and when purchased was employed in carrying cargoes of fertilizer and copra about the islands. She was overhauled, a battery of 4 muzzle-loading 6 pounders from the Iolani barracks and two Gatling guns mounted, and in other ways she was turned into the semblance of a man-of-war at an expenditure of around $50,000—uniforms, stores, crockery, bunting, mahogany fittings and other incidentals using up most of it. There were 67 men on board all told and, it was remarked, but one boat. Few of the line officers had any sea knowledge; the crew of natives and beachcombers were undisciplined and inefficient. Twenty-four of the natives were marched aboard from the reform school, part of them comprising the band. A marine guard of 10 men was included.
The Kaimiloa sailed from Honolulu about the middle of May, 1887. Her commanding officer was George E. Gresley Jackson, sometimes styled Admiral, who was said to have been a former British naval officer. He had lately been master of the local reform school and in addition to being incompetent was, I am afraid, addicted to drink. In 1907 he died at San Francisco in poverty and destitution. The voyage of 2,400 miles required a month, averaging from 50 to 120 miles per day. An entry in a journal states “the captain took sights occasionally but never attempted to work out his longitude.”
Samoa was reached on June 15. The German gunboat Adler was found at the anchorage and signaled inquiry as to the ship’s identity, but the Kaimiloa, so the story ran in Honolulu, held on until brought up by a shot across her bows. From such a pitiful beginning bad went to worse. Bush reported to the Hawaiian Prime Minister, Gibson, “The discipline of the ship is not all that might be desired, in fact it is very bad.” Robert Louis Stevenson who was at Samoa shortly after the mission wrote: “The Kaimiloa was from the first a scene of disaster and dilapidation; the stores were sold; the crew revolted; for a great part of a night she was in the hands of mutineers and the secretary (Poor) lay bound upon the deck.” During this disgraceful riot the boatswain was reported to have attempted to blow up the ship, and the Adler sent over a party to restore order.
The diplomatic side of the venture was no better. All negotiations were held in secret. The Germans were, and had been for some time, well established at Samoa. They had become friendly with the revolutionary party, had organized them, taught them to shoot, and had set up a rival chief, Tamasese. Clashes between them and Bush occurred, and the Hawaiians, both diplomatic and military, were treated with discourtesy and something like contempt. Bush, who had done some preliminary work and had actually engineered a treaty with Samoa, got himself into trouble, it was said, and was ordered to ‘Resign his commission and return to Hawaii.” The captain’s actions were censurable. Later the Germans declared martial law, there was bloodshed, Malietoa was arrested, exiled, and taken to Germany.
This being the situation the Hawaiian government decided to “recall the mission to Samoa.” Malfeasance, ignorance, indiscipline, intrigue, and riotous behavior had rendered an ill-conceived plan futile. The demoralization of the ship’s personnel made the carrying out of any orders difficult; however Henry Poor, the assistant and successor to Bush, finally got the ship away on August 8, reporting, “It was with a feeling of intense relief I watched her disappear from sight.” After an unauthorized visit to Pago Pago she sailed for and later arrived at Honolulu. The entire voyage lasted approximately 4 months.
Echoes of the adventure were promptly and loudly heard. Charges and countercharges were made. Stories of incompetency and humiliation circulated for some time, and grew in the telling.
The net results of the enterprise were the absolute defeat of the plan for the “Primacy of the Pacific,” or a copied Monroe Doctrine for the islands of that ocean, and the accumulation of distrust between interested world powers which did not subside until after the Samoan hurricane in 1889 and which, incidentally, may be said to have accounted in part for the loss of several “observing” vessels on guard at Apia, and many lives. Also there was to be noted a dent of between $80,000 and $100,000 in the Hawaiian treasury, and the issuing of the decoration, “The Grand Cross of the Order of Oceania.” Mr. Eugene Burns sums it up differently:
And what did the trip accomplish? It is claimed that the ranking chief of Samoa, King Malietoa, sent back a batch of grass skirts which the Hawaiian king, in compliment of his brother ruler, placed upon his court dancers, thereby fastening upon Hawaii, in the mind of the rest of the world, an emblem which never really belonged to it. And that my friends, if it is true, is the only tangible result of the embassy.
In all this there was a note of honest endeavor to do right as it was seen, and it must go a long way toward combating ridicule and calumny. Even so the affair inevitably lent itself so forcibly to a Gilbert and Sullivan interpretation that the similarity could not be avoided. Something very like such interpretation occurred at Guam, and shortly after the return of the expedition there appeared in Honolulu a home-made light opera, “Kaimiloa,” in which the chorus was sung:
“Once again we’ll fill our glasses,
Gin all other drinks surpasses,
All around, here’s to us all,
Gin bought out of others’ taxes
Is the finest drink of all.”
The Kaimiloa was a stout ship that not only survived this episode but some others of a more useful if less spectacular character. For many years she lay in the harbor of Honolulu. Later she ran as a passenger and cargo vessel among the islands until rammed and sunk in her home harbor. Later still she was raised, repaired, and employed again only to be burned and scrapped for materials at Pearl Harbor about 1910.
In her old age it may be wondered if she recalled, if ships do recall past incidents, the glorious days when she sailed forth to conquer the Pacific and to defy the three greatest powers on the face of the earth.