December 1892.
"Brother Log, you're here?" Enders, a member of the American Hawaiian Business Association, smiled as he led Log into his home.
"Moore, go make a cup of coffee."
Moore was a servant in Enders's household, a typical Black man. Enders naturally hired Black people as domestic servants because they offered good value for money—not only were their wages suitable, but they could also keep the household in perfect order. Upon hearing the command, Moore obediently went to do as his master instructed.
Log reclined on the sofa, looking quite at ease. He asked Enders, "Boss Enders, how did you find the time to invite me here this time? I used to invite you often, but you were never home."
"Heh, I've been busy with business. I'm not like you, with such a large business—you don't need to work yourself to the bone. I was busy with European orders some time ago. The orders weren't big, all small batches, but there were so many of them that the work never seemed to end," Enders said.
"You flatter me. I'm only a small merchant myself. There hasn't been much business lately, which is why I've had time to wander around. I don't know how many people truly envy you—Europe has always spent lavishly, while I can only do business with the Far East."
In Hawaii, everyone mainly dealt in sandalwood, but Hawaii's sandalwood trade was already like the setting sun, fading by the day. It made sense; there were only a few small islands here, and no amount of resources could keep pace with decades of logging.
As for anything else, Hawaii's greatest function was serving as a stopover for ships at sea. After all, in the heart of the North Pacific, the Hawaiian Islands were the only place worth