The Improbable Journeys of Billy Battles

Chapter 4-1

Chapter 4I awoke next morning to the sound of someone

knocking on my door. For a moment, I thought it was Katharina, back

again to provide more details of her troubled past. My past was

troubled enough, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to take on

another person’s burdens. I as much told her so before leaving her

cabin the night before. Katharina apologized for bothering me with

her tale of woe and looked at me with the most doleful eyes I had

ever seen. Naturally, I agreed to assist her in any way I

could.

“Who is it?” I yelled from my bed. I checked

my pocket watch on my nightstand. It was barely six thirty.

“Soz ter disturb yew, sir, but we’ll be

dockin’ in Honolulu in less van an ’aaahr.” It was Potts. “Can I do

anythin’ fer yew befawer we dock?”

I opened the door. There was Potts in his

white jacket and black trousers holding a mug of coffee.

“I thought yew might do wiv a cup ter get da

day started right,” he said. He had a peculiar smile on his face as

though he knew something that he wasn’t supposed to know.

“Thank you, Mr. Potts… that’s very kind,” I

said, taking the steaming cup of coffee from his hand.

“Well, yew know, after last night an’ all…”

Potts winked, turned on his heel, and began to walk briskly down

the deck.

I suddenly felt embarrassed… not so much for

me, but for Katharina, whose reputation among the ship’s staff

might now be a bit tainted.

“Potts!” I yelled. He turned, a shocked look

on his face.

“Sir?”

I lowered the volume of my voice. “Could you

come back here for a minute?”

Potts walked back to my cabin door. “What

can I do fer yew, guvnor?” he asked.

I looked both ways down the promenade deck,

making sure no one was around.

“Potts, I don’t know what you think you

might have seen last night.”

“Oh, I didn’t see nothin’ sir… It’ was

Ginger, me mate. He seen yew comin’ aaaht ov da lady’s cabin.”

I motioned for Potts to step inside my

cabin, and then I shut the door.

“I want to tell you something, and I want

you to pass it on to your, uh, friend. What he saw was not what he

thinks. I was in the baroness Von Schreiber’s cabin to listen to an

account of a series of unfortunate incidents that have been

troubling her. Please tell that to your friend and anybody else who

may have the wrong idea.”

“Whatever yew says, guvnor,” Potts said. “I

didn’t mean anythin’ by it.”

“I’m sure you didn’t, but people can get the

wrong idea, and then a very fine lady’s reputation can be severely

damaged.”

Potts nodded, opened the door, and turned to

leave. “As yew say, guvnor.”

Before Potts could leave, I grabbed his arm

and put one dollar in his jacket pocket. “I am counting on you, Mr.

Potts!”

“Don’t fink anymawer abaaaht it. I’ll take

care ov everything,” Potts said as he walked out and onto the

deck.

About an hour later, the ship was anchored

in Honolulu Harbor, and I was eagerly preparing to disembark. We

were to remain two days in Honolulu while the ship took on more

coal from a coaling barge. Then we were to proceed to Yokohama,

Japan.

As I walked to the gangway, I noticed Agnes

and Stanley Gladwell standing nearby on the deck along with several

other people.

“Why, Mr. Battles, where have you been?”

Mrs. Gladwell gushed as I approached. “We haven’t seen you here

since that first evening. Have you been ill?”

I preferred not to answer, but with the

others apparently waiting to hear my answer, I was compelled to

explain my absence. I decided to tell a fib in the hopes of ending

all discussion of my situation.

“A little seasick,” I lied. “So I’ve been

keeping to my cabin.”

“Ah yes, the ‘mal de mer,’” Mrs. Gladwell

said. “Are you aware, Mr. Battles, that seasickness may be wholly

prevented by the use of cathartics?”

“Cathartics?”

“Why, yes, the medicine of Brandreth or

Wright will serve the purpose… or the use of Seidlitz powders or

similarly effervescent substances. You must combine those remedies

with an abundance of air and exercise, of course.”

“Uh huh… well, I have done the latter. I

think I have worn a path on the deck. I am eager to get on solid

land for a change”

“When we return from going ashore, I will

have the steward bring you some of my remedies for the nautical

disturbance,” Mrs. Gladwell said. “Stanley and I are leaving the

ship later today.”

“I thought you were going to Japan?”

At that point, Stanley Gladwell entered the

conversation. “Oh, we are… we are merely making a short stopover to

tour Oahu. I understand the place is a paradise.”

That comment brought the other six or seven

people standing nearby into the conversation, a few of whom

actually lived in Hawaii.

As I listened to the chatter about residing

in Honolulu, I kept looking up and down the promenade deck for

Katharina. We had agreed to meet at the gangway at eight thirty and

leave the ship together. I checked my pocket watch. It was about

eight forty-five. I wondered what was keeping her, and I thought

for a minute about returning to her cabin but decided not to after

what Potts had told me.

While I waited, I watched the second- and

third-class passengers walk down the gangway on the deck bellow. As

they left the ship, each received a small card.

“Please show this when you return to the

vessel,” a steward instructed each passenger. “And please do not

lose it. It is your pass back onto the ship.”

“Are you disembarking, Mr. Battles?” Mrs.

Gladwell asked, looking at me quizzically.

“Yes… uh, in a few minutes. I am just

waiting for someone.”

Mrs. Gladwell looked suddenly past my right

shoulder, and I could see her eyes widen.

“I see,” she said a bit disdainfully. “We’ll

be going then. Come, Stanley, let’s not tarry.” She then turned her

back and walked to the gangway. I turned to see what had gotten her

rapt attention.

It was Katharina. She was walking toward me

and looking resplendent in what was then known as a Gibson Girl

outfit: a navy blue skirt with an embroidered white blouse and a

floppy red bow. She wore a navy blue felt hat with a high-squared

crown, wide brim, and a white lace hatband tied off in a bow. In

her hand, she carried a matching parasol.

As was usually the case, whenever Katharina

was in the vicinity, I noticed that all eyes were on her—all,

except the Gladwells. They had already taken their reboarding cards

and were moving briskly down the gangway.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Mr.

Battles,” she said, extending her hand. I just nodded and tipped my

hat. She put her arm through mine, and we moved together toward the

gangway. As we did, the small crowd that had gathered there parted

like a miniature Red Sea. The men’s mouths were brazenly agape, and

the women were scrutinizing Katharina as though she were a piece of

precious jewelry.

I have to admit, I felt rather exceptional

as we took our reboarding cards and walked down the gangway. It’s

not every man, I thought, who can accompany the most beautiful

woman within thousands of miles on a walk through paradise.

When we reached the dock, I found myself

losing my balance. My sea legs were not used to solid ground.

Katharina laughed and also stumbled.

“Maybe we had better get a carriage before

we both fall flat on our faces,” she said.

I hailed one of the open-air tourist

hackneys parked along the quay, and we spent the next two hours or

so riding through Honolulu. Our driver, a jovial Hawaiian man named

Mataio, provided us with a running commentary on the city’s history

as we drove.

First, he took us along the waterfront past

Wilder’s Steamship Company dock. Then he drove us past the Chinese

fish market on Kekaulike Street and past the vast J. T. Waterhouse

Import store. Next, he took us down Merchant Street and Hotel

Street, past the Hawaiian Hotel on Richards Street, and past

Fashion Stables at Hotel and Union Streets.

Honolulu in 1894 didn’t look anything like

the place does today. It was still pretty raw and undeveloped with

a population of about thirty thousand. The entire republic of eight

islands only had a population of about one hundred thousand. There

were no hotels along Waikiki Beach, which was still a large marshy

area of undeveloped lagoons, taro farms, fishponds, coconut trees,

and sparkling white beaches.

Mule-drawn tramways carried people along

dirt roadways. There was a pristine beauty to the place, and as we

rode along in our horse-drawn cab, I wondered what progress might

do to the natural beauty of the city and its surroundings. I think

we now know.

We finally stopped in front of the Iolani

Palace. The imposing palace was once the official residence of

Hawaiian queen and ruler Liliuokalani until her overthrow by the

so-called Committee of Safety a year before my arrival. Now the

building was the Executive Building for the new Republic of

Hawaii.

“The Americans have taken our kingdom away

from us,” Mataio said, sadly looking at the palace. “Now we are

American subjects, and our queen is in prison.”

Katharina looked at me. “Sounds familiar,

doesn’t it? We so-called civilized people always know what’s best

for the natives.”

Mataio tickled the rump of his horse with a

long thin whip, and our cab lurched forward.

“And now we go to Diamond Head volcano,” he

said. “And after that, to the Punch Bowl crater where you will have

a beautiful view of Honolulu.” Katharina and I settled back in our

seats.

“This sure beats walking the decks of the SS

China,” I said, looking at the long sloping outline of

Diamond Head in the distance.

For some fifteen minutes, our carriage

bumped along dirt-covered Waikiki Road toward Diamond Head. Mataio

provided a running commentary on the scenery and the area we were

passing through.

“Waikiki is a Hawaiian word that means

‘spouting water,’” he said, turning around in his seat. “Before the

English and Americans came, Waikiki was a green marshland where

three mountain streams flowed into the Pacific Ocean. It was a

valuable fishing area. Now I am afraid it will be gone before I

die.”

Katharina and I looked at each other in

silence. She looked off to her right and shook her head.

“How horrible… I feel so guilty about all of

this because I was married to a man who wanted to do the same all

over Asia.”

I looked at Katharina. She turned her head

away from me. “I don’t feel guilty, and neither should you… You

aren’t responsible for what is happening here just because you are

an American any more than I am.”

She was about to answer when, without

warning, Mataio turned off Waikiki Road onto a much smaller one

that headed inland. As soon as he turned, he slapped the horse into

a run; and after about fifty feet, he turned right into a narrow

drive that led toward a small bungalow. As we approached the

cottage, he slowed the carriage to a quick trot and then turned to

the right again and quickly stopped the carriage behind a broad

wall of bright red bougainvillea.

“What the hell is going on?” I demanded.

Katharina and I bounced wildly about in the carriage, and her

parasol fell to the floor as she struggled to keep her balance.

“I am sorry… Please forgive me… but I think

someone is following us.”

“What?” Katharina gasped. I jumped from the

carriage.

“Are you sure?” I asked, standing next to

the carriage.

“Yes, I have watched the carriage follow us

from a distance for the past hour or so. It is not one of the

regular tourist carriages. And I noticed when we stopped that

carriage stopped also.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Katharina

was standing up in the carriage now.

“Wait just a minute, Katharina. Let me take

a look.”

Mataio and I ran to the edge of the

bougainvillea and peered around the end so we could see Waikiki

Road. Sure enough, a carriage sprinted past the small road we had

turned in on and continued. We ran to Waikiki Road and watched the

other carriage disappear toward Diamond Head. In the passenger

seat, I could see the back of a man’s head. He wore a brown

bowler.

We walked quickly back to our coach.

Katharina had already climbed down by herself and was standing,

hands on hips.

“What did I tell you,” she whispered.

“Someone is following me.”

“Or me! Do you forget that Pinkerton

detective I told you about?”