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could dry. The dampness clung thick like a barber’s shaving
towel and the men sweated in their shoes. Dorothy would have
spoiled her sarong in ten minutes in such a place.
Bright and early next morning the pioneer crew went over the
side into a whaleboat to begin the cut to shore. Boss of the
gang was hardy, red-faced Barney Powers himself, ex-Matson
Line ship captain and well experienced in making men tow
the line. “You feelers can’t even begin to live till you get
yourselves a shore,” he barked. “Now lay to!”
Most of the party was Hawaiians – quiet, cheerful, industrious,
and highly skilled in the sea. These men deployed rapidly
across the reef, some up to their necks in water, and began
the team play they had learned at Kaneohe.
It was strenuous work. Holes were to be sunk close together
along the reef, to a depth of six feet. To do this, groups of
Kanakas dragged stout sections of steel pipe to the locations
of the holes, held them upright while others inserted solid
steel mandrels, armed with teeth at their lower ends to do the
boring. Once the sections were in place, men with
sledgehammers set to work, often so deep in water themselves
that it was extremely difficult to strike effective blows. Little
by little as the mandrels were driven down, the coral beneath
was pulverized and washed away by the sea, so that the
casings descended and made linings for the holes. When they
had been sunk to the required depth, the mandrels were
pulled out and the casings loaded with dynamite and left. [112]
There was nothing new about the actual method of drilling; it
was the extreme novelty of the conditions that made it
pioneering work. The holes were put in only twenty-two
inches apart for the whole half mile, and took as much as an
hour apiece to push home.
At the end of the day the last casing completed was loaded
and fitted with blasting cap and the usual electric wire. This
final hole was the only one thus armed. But when the spark
was finally shot through the wire, the entire row would go off
like a string of firecrackers, each charge of power detonated
by the shock of it’s neighbor’s explosion. This was payoff for
the long day’s grind, and the Kanakas would clear and yell
joyfully as the rock and bits of iron reached the sky. Then
they would turn in aboard ship and toss and roll till next day’s
work began.
Three weeks it took to blast a shallow trench forty feet wide
into the lagoon. Each row of holes laboriously drilled would
clear [113] out a narrow V some seven feet deep, and half a
dozen rows were needed – five miles of them in all, less than
two feet apart.
Barney Powers had not sat quietly smoking his cigar aboard
ship all this time. Three days had opened the first narrow V in-
shore, and that gave Barney room enough to row in on a look
see of his own.
Palmyra, even to his practical eye, was a paradise indeed.
The lagoon – or rather, the three lagoons with shoals between
them – lay in a broad chain nearly five miles long and a mile
wide. Circling them with charming irregularity, a necklace of
fifty-two tiny wooded islets
towel and the men sweated in their shoes. Dorothy would have
spoiled her sarong in ten minutes in such a place.
Bright and early next morning the pioneer crew went over the
side into a whaleboat to begin the cut to shore. Boss of the
gang was hardy, red-faced Barney Powers himself, ex-Matson
Line ship captain and well experienced in making men tow
the line. “You feelers can’t even begin to live till you get
yourselves a shore,” he barked. “Now lay to!”
Most of the party was Hawaiians – quiet, cheerful, industrious,
and highly skilled in the sea. These men deployed rapidly
across the reef, some up to their necks in water, and began
the team play they had learned at Kaneohe.
It was strenuous work. Holes were to be sunk close together
along the reef, to a depth of six feet. To do this, groups of
Kanakas dragged stout sections of steel pipe to the locations
of the holes, held them upright while others inserted solid
steel mandrels, armed with teeth at their lower ends to do the
boring. Once the sections were in place, men with
sledgehammers set to work, often so deep in water themselves
that it was extremely difficult to strike effective blows. Little
by little as the mandrels were driven down, the coral beneath
was pulverized and washed away by the sea, so that the
casings descended and made linings for the holes. When they
had been sunk to the required depth, the mandrels were
pulled out and the casings loaded with dynamite and left. [112]
There was nothing new about the actual method of drilling; it
was the extreme novelty of the conditions that made it
pioneering work. The holes were put in only twenty-two
inches apart for the whole half mile, and took as much as an
hour apiece to push home.
At the end of the day the last casing completed was loaded
and fitted with blasting cap and the usual electric wire. This
final hole was the only one thus armed. But when the spark
was finally shot through the wire, the entire row would go off
like a string of firecrackers, each charge of power detonated
by the shock of it’s neighbor’s explosion. This was payoff for
the long day’s grind, and the Kanakas would clear and yell
joyfully as the rock and bits of iron reached the sky. Then
they would turn in aboard ship and toss and roll till next day’s
work began.
Three weeks it took to blast a shallow trench forty feet wide
into the lagoon. Each row of holes laboriously drilled would
clear [113] out a narrow V some seven feet deep, and half a
dozen rows were needed – five miles of them in all, less than
two feet apart.
Barney Powers had not sat quietly smoking his cigar aboard
ship all this time. Three days had opened the first narrow V in-
shore, and that gave Barney room enough to row in on a look
see of his own.
Palmyra, even to his practical eye, was a paradise indeed.
The lagoon – or rather, the three lagoons with shoals between
them – lay in a broad chain nearly five miles long and a mile
wide. Circling them with charming irregularity, a necklace of
fifty-two tiny wooded islets
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Paradise Island
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