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John Kanaka
A considerable trade has been carried on for several
years between California and the Sandwich Islands,
and most of the vessels are manned with Islanders;
who, as they, for the most part, sign no articles,
leave whenever they choose, and let themselves out
to cure hides at San Diego, and to supply the places
of the men of the American vessels while on the
coast. In this way, quite a colony of them had
become settled at San Diego, as their
headquarters....
During the four months that I lived here, I got
well acquainted with all of them, and took the
greatest pains to become familiar with their
language, habits, and characters. Their language, I
could only learn, orally, for they had not any books
among them, though many of them had been taught to
read and write by the missionaries at home. They
spoke a little English, and by a sort of compromise,
a mixed language was used on the beach, which could
be understood by all. The long name of Sandwich
Islanders is dropped, and they are called by the
whites, all over the Pacific ocean, "Kanákas," from
a word in their own language which they apply to
themselves, and to all South Sea Islanders, in
distinction from whites, whom they call "Haole."
This name, "Kanaka," they answer to, both
collectively and individually. Their proper names,
in their own language, being difficult to pronounce
and remember, they are called by any names which the
captains or crews may choose to give them. Some are
called after the vessel they are in; others by
common names, as Jack, Tom, Bill.... But by whatever
names they might be called, they were the most
interesting, intelligent, and kind-hearted people
that I ever fell in with. I felt a positive
attachment for almost all of them; and many of them
I have, to this time, a feeling for, which would
lead me to go a great way for the mere pleasure of
seeing them, and which will always make me feel a
strong interest in the mere name of a Sandwich
Islander.
-Richard Henry Dana, Jr., Two
Years Before the Mast
As sung by
Holdstock & Murphy on San Francisco Shanties and
Sea Songs of California's Gold Rush |
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I thought I heard the
old man say,
John Kanaka-naka tulai-ae.
There's work tomorrow but no work today.
John Kanaka-naka tulai-ae.
Tulai-ae, oh, tulai-ae,
John Kanaka-naka tulai-ae.
We're bound away from 'Frisco Bay,
John Kanaka-naka tulai-ae.
We're bound away at the break of day.
John Kanaka-naka tulai-ae.
Tulai-ae, oh, tulai-ae,
John Kanaka-naka tulai-ae.
It's just one thing that grieves my mind,
To leave my wife and child behind.
They'll wave farewell down on the key,
They'll wait and fear and weep for me.
We're bound away around Cape Horn,
Where you'll wish to Christ you'd never been
born.
The bosun said before I'm through,
You'll curse your mother for havin' you.
It's rotten wheat and weevily bread,
And it's pump or drown, the old man said.
It's one more pull, and that'll do,
And we're the bullies for to pull her
through. |
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