character, more distinct now that we compare them, and nothing could be
further, in its small way, from the other small way of Tahiti: ancient,
provincial, French, sad and charming as the setting of some
opera-comique that I have never seen, but should have liked to invent.
Here everything was brisk and clear and promising, as if typical of the
promise of something, while Papeete of Tahiti held the remains of some
former system of government and business.
Little schooners with sails set were anchored in the harbour; a
three-masted ship and H. R. M. S. _Cordelia_ gave importance to the
scene. Steam launches plied about. On the wharf, East Indian coolies,
turbaned and draped, were grouped with their women in great white
draperies or in bold colours, all yellow and all green, or in one case
with a violet _sari_ edged with light blue, and a gown of dark blue
edged with the same; all these gracious folds thrown out in great masses
when they moved, so that even far as we were one could see the movement
of the limbs. There are now, I was told when I asked, some seven
thousand of the East Indian people in these islands; for the Fijians are
Polynesians and work little. So that as elsewhere, the growth of sugar
or cotton, or in fact anything requiring continuous care and some
exertion, cannot be carried on without the outsider--East Indians,
Chinese, Japanese, or Melanesian from other islands.
[Illustration: CHIEFS IN WAR DRESS AND PAINT. “DEVIL” COUNTRY. VITI
LEVU, FIJI]
The first Fijians came up to us almost at once in the boat of the pilot;
dark chocolate figures with great shocks of hair standing out, yellowed
with lime as in Samoa. They resembled our Samoan friends more than any
we have seen yet, notwithstanding great differences. There was a certain
likeness--something in the expression and in the make of the face; only
so far as these few hours give me, the look is browner.
They seem more military, more masculine; all this impression intensified
by our reminiscences of Tahiti just left behind us, where the healthy
good humour of Samoa seemed to fade into sadness and into a refinement
that appeared feminine. Fine strapping fellows in red _sulus_ (_sulu_ is
the same as the _lava-lava_ of Samoa or _pareu_ of Tahiti--the loin
drapery), and red-edged, white sleeveless shirts, pulled the Governor’s
gig that came out to fetch us. After landing and being driven up to the
Governor’s house, we found a sentinel draped with the _sulu_, and naked
to the waist, with a straight sword and belt and his musket, pacing in
front of the verandah. I believe it was owing to his great shock of
yellow hair, like a grenadier’s cap, that he looked completely dressed
and most decidedly a soldierly figure. He or another is now walking up
and down in front of me as I write, and at night, at the relief watch, I
know by the deep voices that he is still there, and that I can sleep
safely, as safely as if he were not there--and all the more that his gun
is empty. The servants also about the house, probably the same men, wait
upon us with this simple splendour; and hand out the dishes with
outstretched arm, “from the shoulder,” and keep up, for me, a military
look.
The Governor, Sir John Thurston, has kindly invited us to take up
quarters with him. Lady Thurston and the family are away, so that we are
but few people in the long, rambling building. It is beautifully placed
on a slight height, at the edge of the town, and faces the bay and the
long line of mountains of the opposite side. There are large grounds
with grassy roads, and the beginnings of a large garden which the
Governor is setting out with great success. From it already he has been
able to supply plants of the finest Trinidad cocoa, which I see growing
in little tubs of bamboo, which when again set out will simply rot away
and leave the plant acclimated. However, I do not purpose to make out a
list. What might interest you is that the garden follows a line of
moats, once belonging to a fortified town which was here, so that it has
quite a look of meaning in its picturesqueness. This is the first
recognizable trace that we have yet seen of the fortified place
protected by ditches. We have seen walls built up in places for forts,
or arrangements of timbers and stones of a momentary character, such as
those in Samoa; but here the laying out of the lines seems to have been
determined with some engineering intelligence, and the space covered
implies ground convenient enough for residence. However, we shall see
later, we hope, something more of such remains, and understand them
better. Meanwhile we are at peace: no more war has been noticed than the
cricket match and lawn tennis games that we saw yesterday afternoon. We
have about us decidedly, protection, and something that I have not had
for a little while, some young Britishers. There is something very
soothing to me about them, when I like them at all. In fact, if this
continues, we shall feel as if we had simply reëntered “civilization”
and be completely spoiled. The conversation of Sir John is very
interesting and instructive; for he is not an amateur in his line,
though by the by, he photographs very prettily.
Suva, Sunday, June 21st.
On Thursday afternoon we accompanied Sir John on a little trip up the
big river Rewa which lies to the east from here. This steam launch
carried us over the shallow bar, inside the reef into the broad river
which has a rapid current, owing to the tide that runs up far enough for
the breakwater to reach some twenty-five miles. The river has also a
considerable incline, but the statement made us without guarantees,
seemed excessive--fifty feet in those twenty-five miles. The land was
low on either side, a great delta, and only occasionally could we see
the mountains and hills in the distance. The banks were high, cut by the
river, and knobby at spots where the harder clay remaining from the
washings made little lumps or eminences. At first we met the mangrove
swamps, then by and by banana and cocoanut, and visible here and there
bread-fruit outlines against the sky. Then there was not water enough,
though the launch draws but one foot, and even with that little had
touched at the bar; so that we landed and walked a little way to Rewa
the village or town that we were bound for. A pretty little clayey road,
like a causeway, better than any in Samoa; plantations and houses from
place to place; natives under the trees turned out for the great event
of the Governor’s visit; here and there in shady corners groups of young
men, putting on the final touches of the decorations in which they were
to appear later: red and black paint, great bunches of _tappa_ about
them and girdles of black _fao_, as in Samoa, and _titis_ of white
streamers and of many plants. Then we came to a sort of stockade, the
compound of the chief, and stepped over his gate, as usual, some stakes
planted in the ground, waist high, with a stepping one outside; not in
our white ideas a dignified mode of entrance. Inside a pretty
arrangement of trees and buildings, with that usual charm that I have
wearied you with, of looking as if arranged for effect, while most
probably placed merely for most convenience; like that picturesqueness
which accompanies our old farms and which seems opposed to most modern
things with us. We turned around the main house, and sat down upon mats
spread out in front of the river; passing first through two little
groups of natives and led by the chief, to whom we were introduced in
turn after the captain of the _Cordelia_. Then a chief or personage of
importance addressed the messenger or herald of the Governor, who sat in
front of us on the grass, profiled against the river, and with certain
forms, presented to him some whale’s teeth tied together, upon which,
apparently, everything was to depend. They were accepted, both these
gentlemen curled up on the ground and the officer sidled up in what I
suppose is due form. Then after a very short speech of the briefest
kind, we were led to the big house for _kava_ and we entered on one
side, walking up the long plank--and passed through doors of heavy
timber, ornamented with sennit in patterns and found a big room covered
with many mats, soft and bed-like to the foot. There we sat at the upper
end, a little raised and on more mats. At the other end of the one long
room were the notables. The chief sat on one side near us; as guests we
had his place. Between the two groups a long rope with ends of clustered
shells was then laid at right angles to us. This was to mark the
division, said my informant, and to enable any one who came late to find
his due place. At one end of the rope the Governor’s herald in jacket
and _yappa sulu_, at the other, the young men making the _kava_ (here
called _yangona_), in an enormous bowl. Meanwhile certain persons
chanted something, with much swaying and pointing of hands and various
gestures, like a rather solemn _siva_. Among the singers was the next
important chief, who led the chant. The singing was the usual Polynesian
cadence, stopping abruptly; and after several chants, between which,
silence reigned, _kava_ had become ready and was applauded and then
poured out. For the first time since Mataafa’s visit I saw the use of
the Great Chief’s Cup. The Governor’s herald handed him his own cup,
into which the _kava_ bearer poured a part. Then upon the Governor’s
drinking and throwing down his bowl, a groan of approval came from the
crowd before us. The same for the English Captain (Grenville); the same
for Tauraatua and myself--who had the honour of drinking out of the
“chiefy” bowl. For others the larger, common bowl was filled; an
advantage or not, as one might like to have more or less of the
stuff--which on the whole I think I like: that is to say, that one gets
accustomed to it, and that it has a clean taste and seems to brace one
a little. But evidently the _kava_ here and in Samoa is not the _kava_
of Tahiti, described by Tati, so powerful that such a drink as our
little bowl of yesterday held, would have stupefied us surely. That
ceremony over, a short speech was made, very different from the long
orations of the Samoan _tulafale_. It was answered by the herald and the
meeting was over. Then we walked out of the chief’s compound to the open
space, where a dance was to be given. We sat under a canopy of mats,
comfortably out of the sunlight that filled the open space edged on one
side, between trees, by a long building quite high, with many doorways,
all high up in the wall windows. This is a guest house, divided by posts
into partitions that serve for each party of travellers. As they arrive
they take up such a division for their use. Between it and the next is a
narrower one occupied by a hearth, serving the parties on both sides
with the economical fire that all other people than white people make.
There, when they are settled the village sends them the necessary food.
Outside of this big building sat a crowd of many women, while only one
woman sat near us, probably some relative of the chiefs who were near
us. To the right, in a long halfcircle, a mass of children, most of them
nude to the waist, beneath and in front of a little bunch of trees. Then
when all was quiet, in trooped the chorus, who sat down in front of us
in a confused circle, added to on the edges by occasional late comers. A
few were nude and adorned with leaves. Many of them held in their hands
bamboo sticks cut to different lengths and of differing sizes. These
struck upon the ground gave a series of sounds according to their length
and thickness--a most primitive music and a most impressive one. Had we
heard this in surroundings untouched by the European, we should no doubt
have felt more keenly the extreme archaic rudeness of the method. With
this was mingled the chant of the others, the usual Polynesian chant. At
length, to our left, having come up behind us, appeared a mass of men,
armed with clubs, ten abreast and about fifteen in file; an orderly
phalanx, keeping step to the music with that marvellous accuracy that
everywhere indicates the Polynesian sensitiveness to time in sound. They
scarcely advanced, merely moving in place, first upon one foot, then
upon another, until some change in the music started them off briskly
toward the other end of the arena. The big yellow masses of their hair
stood out like grenadiers’ caps, and around their heads. Dragging to the
ground almost, were long veils or strips of white _tappa_, looking like
bridal veils. White flowers were fastened in the hair; great armlets of
leaves about the upper arms; collars of beads and hanging circles of
breastplate, with great _titis_ (Samoan name for the ornamental
[Illustration: MEKKE-MEKKE. A STORY DANCE. THE MUSICIANS AT REVA,
FIJI]
girdle) of white and green, stuck out or swung about them. They wore
usually dark black waist hangings like the black _fao_ mats of Samoa;
though here and there black _tappa_ served for the drapery, and was
gathered about their waists in enormous folds: in general a great
“symphony of black and white,” with strong accents here and there of
faces, necks and hands painted with velvety black of soot. When they had
marched to the other end of the open space they began their dances,
keeping time with extreme care, but making motions of attack and defence
all together. Then breaking their order, the centre took one line of
attitudes and movements, and the flanks another, even to crouching low
down and waiting while the centre advanced and came back. It was a
splendid, warlike, barbarous spectacle, our first sight of a complete
military dance; for the Samoan that we had seen was more the
representation of a real advance of barbarian warriors. To this
succeeded other dances of like kind, as our first dancers belonging to
the place, were succeeded by others belonging to adjacent districts.
The leader of the first corps came up to us, threw down his club before
the Governor, and sat down beside us panting and perspiring. He was a
big handsome man, redolent with cocoanut oil, the son of one of the
chiefs, and had once on a time been at school in Sydney, where he had
learned other weaknesses besides those that come from education. Next
to him in front of us, as usual, sat the Governor’s “herald” (native
name Matafamea) representative of an office hereditary in certain
families; and took charge of the applause, calling aloud “_Vinaka!_”
which means _good_; to which the Governor sometimes added, “_Vinaka
sala_,” _very good_. And it was very good. Not only did we have club
dances, but also dances with spears, extremely long spears, made to
shake and tremble like the “long shadow casting spear” of the Iliads;
while sometimes the warriors stood all motionless, crouched or poised,
or leaning with the other arm upon their clubs. Finally the last cohort
came down in a mass, the front rank waving great fans and bending to the
right and left, while the main body of the men brandished their spears
above them. To add to the confusion of sight of the looker-on many had
their faces painted not only in black but in vivid red, so that one
would feel that a certain surprise and astonishment might well attend
their appearance and attack. Things of the kind taken by themselves seem
useless, but seen in real use, the motives that have brought them about
unfold, and one can see for instance how the painting of the face makes
a mask behind which the intentions or purposes lie concealed and in
ambush. When all this was over the crowd melted away, and we walked back
to the chief’s
[Illustration: THE DANCE OF WAR. FIJI]
house, stopping, some of us, for a moment at a less important one to see
what it was like; slipping up and down on the polished wood of the
drawbridge, and resting on the raised daïs at one end, filled with grass
and covered with soft mats, where the owner slept. Behind us on the wall
was a lithograph in colour, framed--the Madonna of Raphael’s--the good
man probably a Catholic. Otherwise less fine, the house was as the
other. Some one of the party wasted some time in asking for a dance of
the women, which we did not obtain, and so we were late on our arrival;
and as we sat down on the mats outside, near the Governor and the
captain, we found that the ceremony of presentation of food had gone on
for some time, and that we were only in at the end. But we saw the
herald divide it, somewhat as in Samoa. It would as we understood, go
back to the village that gave it--the big hog not cooked enough, and the
great basket of taro.
We lounged until evening in what we might call the garden, right upon
the river. Here and there a few trees growing up against the leafy
walls--for their sides were all covered with leaves that melt into the
grass thatch above--or standing apart; below one of them was a large
smooth slab of stone, brought from before an old heathen temple, to make
a pleasant seat. It looked like Japan, just such a little place as would
have been arranged with infinite art, with just so many trees, and with
such a stone to appear as if accidental and yet to contradict a little.
The river before us was very broad; on the other side a perpendicular
bank not high, perhaps like ours, some four or five feet at the most,
covered with the appearance of an uninterrupted mass of trees, though
perhaps at places there were open spots like ours. Canoes moved across
bringing back visitors; as the night came on big fish rose out of the
water with a splash. There was a long white sunset, and then we had
dinner on the mats, and after talk and lounging there we walked outside
a little and then turned in for sleep on the mats, under blankets and
mosquito nets; for it was cool, or felt so, and yet the mosquito hummed.
In the morning I wandered out at dawn, and walked up and down the little
space with the Governor, who told me humorous stories of wild
adventures, mostly with reporters. The Governor’s conversation is
charming, full of information, and with a great enjoyment of fun. The
few stories he had told us were like little comedies, and I regret that
his position and duties, as they, increase, will probably prevent such a
man from giving any record of his experiences and his views in the South
Seas.
As the day came up our party turned out of doors; attempts at
photography were made. Some chiefs came up to speak to the Governor; one
he presented to me, a cheery old gentleman
[Illustration: JOLI BUTI--TEACHER. FIJI]
of grey beard, strikingly European at first sight, who laughed at the
little joke that we were come to take him to America, like so-and-so who
went and never came back.
Another steam launch drawing less water had come for us to take us to
the Navuini plantation (sugar) only some six miles in a straight line
from us, but further with the curving of the rivers. While we were
breakfasting cheerfully on the mats it had run aground and would not be
off until a change of tide in the afternoon. So that our boats were
called, and stepping down a little copper-lined ship’s ladder delicately
grafted into the bank, we were in the boats and had a long hot row to
the plantation. There we rested, going up to a high verandah in one of
the residences from which there was a view of the delta of the river,
and we could look toward the gradual passage of the land into hills and
then into mountains.
I felt too tired to follow through the rows of the plantations
interesting as they undoubtedly are, because I have some previous idea
of the thing. I should have been more interested if I could have seen
some of the native sugar plantations which we passed, the existence of
which at all seems to me a remarkable thing: the first sign so far in
the South Seas of any work not absolutely easy, undertaken by natives.
One of them was near our point of departure, and was across the river
from the owners or holders; for as was explained to me, it was a
family, not an individual, as you know, in the idea of society and
property that exists here; in the same way that we have seen elsewhere
in the South Seas. There is the family, in so far different from our
communistic ideas; then the families that are sprung from a common
traceable near root, over them, headed by the heads of families, the
greater chief representing the ensemble of families of like origin or
who have control; and so on to the highest. As connected with this, the
Governor was illustrating the interdependence in some such way; putting
ourselves back to an indefinite time, an arbitrary moment when things
were unchanged; let us suppose that the head of a village is moved by
complaints that some one of his own little association of families has
misbehaved. There is no trouble in such a case; all authority is given,
and proper punishment meted out directly, if such be necessary. But let
us suppose that it is some fellow of a neighbouring village who has
killed the straying pigs of our village, or who hangs too closely about
some girl of ours--why our chief, however disposed to break his head,
must wait to see that such a disposal of the outside offender would not
displease the chief who had equal authority over both places. So that he
takes a present, the famous whale’s tooth, such as that we saw offered
yesterday to the Governor, at the beginning of all conversation; and
presenting it, he makes a story of the case, and of what he himself
would like to do about it. If the present is rejected, the matter is
left as it was. But it may be that it is accepted, and the superior
chief may approve and not interfere, or he may approve (_annuit_), and
yet protect the offenders indirectly, so that they should not be
hurt--nay, so that they might come off victorious and the attacker be
humbled and diminished. Or he might say: “The case is grave; I
understand what you want; let me think a little over it;” then he
himself approach the still higher ruler and consult him. So that the
responsibility was shifted away as far as convenient.
THE STORY OF THE FISH-HOOK WAR
But this fairly is politics, and we were talking of property, and
perhaps it is better to give you an ancient anecdote that was told at
breakfast with great vivacity by Sir John. It is the story of the famous
“Fish-hook War.” Let us suppose three brothers or relatives, each with a
district, or village perhaps, under him--people well-to-do, with
property and women. Let us label them--(for their names would only
trouble us and entangle me)--A., B., C. Now somehow or other a story got
out that A. had become possessed, in some way or other, of a wonderful
fish-hook, something quite extraordinary in every way and “_hors
ligne_.” Exactly how it was I don’t know, but B. felt that if it were
so good he should like to have it himself, and most naturally, according
to the communistic ideas of the South Seas, he went over to A. and asked
him to give him his fish-hook. A. thought awhile, and then answered that
he would be most happy (South Sea way), but that unfortunately he had
only a little while ago (South Sea way), given it to D. or E. or F. as
the case may be. Now B. knew that this was a lie, but I suppose he
smiled politely, or in a sickly way, and went off wroth at heart. Some
time after, whether taking a whale’s tooth or not, I don’t know, for I
am not yet posted in the use of the implement, A. called on C. and said
to him: “I don’t like the way followed by our brother B. in his
behaviour to us. He has been persecuting me about a fish-hook, that he
might have left alone, and he seems to wish to grasp everything. I think
that we ought to give him a thrashing.”