CHAPTER LXXIII.
At noon, we hired a Kanaka to take us down to the ancient ruins at Honaunan in his canoe--price two dollars--reasonable enough, for a sea voyage of eight miles, counting both ways.
The native canoe is an irresponsible looking contrivance.

I cannot think of anything to liken it to but a boy's sled runner hollowed out, and that does not quite convey the correct idea.

It is about fifteen feet long, high and pointed at both ends, is a foot and a half or two feet deep, and so narrow that if you wedged a fat man into it you might not get him out again.

It sits on top of the water like a duck, but it has an outrigger and does not upset easily, if you keep still.

This outrigger is formed of two long bent sticks like plow handles, which project from one side, and to their outer ends is bound a curved beam composed of an extremely light wood, which skims along the surface of the water and thus saves you from an upset on that side, while the outrigger's weight is not so easily lifted as to make an upset on the other side a thing to be greatly feared.