would proceed to attack him, kill his pigs, ravish his women, burn his
houses, and generally make an end of him; and that he had better put up
his war palings at once. Of course, South Sea way, he was to be informed
of the hour and place of the duel. B. did so, but he was thrashed, his
houses were burned, his pigs killed and eaten, his women ravished; and
he himself had to take to the wild bush, where for a couple of years he
remained. Then the others thought that after all he was a brother, and
had been punished enough, and they called him back and helped him to
rebuild his houses and started him in life again. Again, South Sea way,
all the property they had was in common and disaster to one was disaster
to all. But B. after a little while went to A. and said to him: “Of
course you might take offence at my having asked you for your fish-hook.
It is not for me to decide now, and all that is over; but I don’t see
that C. should have behaved as he did. He had no complaint against me,
and I think he behaved meanly. Now he is lording it all along. Why not
do to him as you did to me?”
“All right,” said A. So again A. and B. notified C. that his pigs should
be attacked, his houses burned, his women ravished, etc., etc., and to
get his palisade ready for an attack at an appointed time. Sure enough,
down they came on him, and chased him out and drove him into the bush.
But after a few months they repented and remembered his brotherhood, and
recalling him rebuilt his houses and set him up again in business.
And things went smoothly for a time, but C. one day thought it over, and
going to B. unbosomed himself thus: “It is all right that you should
have walked into me, but what had I done to A.? Nothing whatever. He
might have had a grudge against you who troubled him about the
possession of the fish-hook, but what could he have against one who had
helped him always. He is grown over-proud and powerful. Why should we
not bring him to a reasonable level, and perhaps after all get the
fish-hook?” So they agreed and sent him the usual summons to prepare for
devastation; but also let him know that if he would merely get out in
time after putting up his war fence, and make no resistance, no further
harm would be done him than to kill his pigs and burn down his houses;
but that he must take absolutely nothing away; all must remain just as
it was. So A. consented, and went into the bush, and the other two came
down and made devastation. And in a few days they called A. back and
said to him: “Well, now things are fairly square, we may allow you to
come back; and we will help you to rebuild your houses. We can’t give
you back your pigs, they are eaten--but, oh, where is your fish-hook?”
Then A. became shamefaced and said to them: “It is too bad, but the fact
is _there never was any fish-hook_. I was drunk one day, and in a
boasting fit I invented the owning of a wonderful fish-hook. That is all
there is to it.” So that, made wiser by fate, they remembered their
general brotherhood, and put up with the nonexistence of the unfortunate
fish-hook.
This is a good story of Polynesian war, such as seemed to keep all
these good people going, gave them excitement, work to do, provided
against unnecessary increase, and yet seems rather to have kept up their
numbers, now diminishing apparently everywhere in all islands. It may be
that when, as in Tahiti, there may come up the possibility of lawsuits
over land claims, the fierce activity of war shall be transferred to the
pursuit of rights in courts, as the bloodthirstiness of the Norseman
still persists in the “process ifs” Norman-French.
But here they have not yet come to that. No arbitrary professional and
scientific ideas, such as aid the French, have yet taken hold. The poor
Tahitian, elevated to the dignity of being the equal of a Frenchman,
pays for it the penalty of having to record his titles to land by
methods new to him. These titles, if not claimed within some European
space of time, are to lapse, so that he rushes now into court, with a
terrible array of verbal testimony, claiming all he possibly can, and
sure to be contradicted or to find his land counter-claimed by some
neighbour, jealous of letting any dormant right, however doubtful, pass
away forever. Poor Pomaré V, the late king who abdicated in favour of
the French, as Thakombau did here, in favour of the English, was
claiming (as I may have told you) when we were there, in Tahiti, two
months ago, all sorts of land presented officially to his first
ancestors and ancestress, as great chief, or as what we now call king;
somewhat as Adams and I were placed in possession of our little district
so many fathoms long. Against him the battle may not be difficult; as he
has resigned his kingship, the titles go back to the first owners, who
gave it to a ruler, not to a person. But meanwhile in the court records
and notices of trials his name is scattered upon every page.
Here things have not yet come to that. Old ideas that are inherent in
the Polynesian way of thinking are not roughly put aside; and I must say
that I personally have a sense of coming to a place where my mind does
not go through the rack of seeing misapplied laws and rules break up
everything, for the risk of possibly doing some good, with the certainty
of much harm. For, after all, what are titles of ownership? There is the
excellent story of the New Zealand chief, who pressed with impatience to
start his claim and make it short, answered promptly, “I eat the former
owner”--a brief summary of many ownerships everywhere. Or of the others
who proved their claim to land by showing that from far back they hunted
rats there. (You will remember that in Samoa rat-hunting was a dignified
and “chiefy” sport.)
The _lali_, the heathen war drum that at the Governor’s house calls us
to our meals, has a story about it in this line of thought: Years back
Sir John ascended the highest peak in Fiji, some five thousand feet or
more high. And having toiled up and being enveloped in cloud and mist,
instead of taking refuge in caves, as did his companions, he sat down
upon a little hillock, over which was spread his waterproof, and waited
for the sunlight that was to show the land below through the rifts in
the clouds. Some time afterward one of the magistrates had come to ask
about the ownership of one side of the mountain, and was assured by the
men of--such and such a place, that it was theirs, a claim contradicted
by those on the other side. But the first party insisted, saying, “Years
ago our people buried their war drum on top of the mountain. There it is
yet.” And true enough, though the spokesman had not been there since
childhood, the little mound or hillock was caused by the burial of the
drum. So that this piece of evidence was duly recorded by being sent to
the Governor; and the evidence is daily produced for us with the beating
of it to call to meals.
I have wandered far away from our course upon the river Rewa. There is
nothing more to it; we had a pleasant time. There were several officers
of the _Cordelia_ along with us. They had been in Samoa and knew our
good friends of Apia; Seumanu and Faatulia and the girls, and old Tofae,
and they agreed with us in liking them. They were in for photography
also, at least the captain; and generally I enjoyed the pleasure that I
have often had in meeting Britishers. The captain was full of things he
had seen and been amused by. The ship had just returned from Tonga,
where it had taken Sir John, and I was told about details connected with
church life there: the most important feature in many islands, that
makes, for instance, Raiatea and Huahaine and Bora-Bora, our neighbour
islands of Tahiti, curious survivals of an arbitrary code of behaviour.
There are too many to repeat; and all that I have is disjointed, but you
know the fancy I have for believing that a few anecdotes help to give an
explanation--and you would tire less of them than of my own
disquisitions. Whether it be so now or not I don’t know, but formerly
the great church in Tonga at Nukalofa (I suppose) was so ordered as to
promote the cause of European dress and also of European trade. The
different doors gave access to people according to their costumes.
Consequently distinct places were given to those who owned hats and who
wore them over shirts and trousers. By another door, to other seats,
entered the hatless owners of shirts and trousers. And _lastly_, the
lowest place of all and separate entrance was for those who even with
shirts wore only the _lava-lava_. In contravention of all this, the
Governor, our Sir John, and the English officers accompanying him on
some hot Sunday, turned up coatless, with only shirts and trousers, and
I hope restored the native mind to a healthier turn.
[Illustration: TONGA GIRL WITH FAN]
Some way back the natives contributed largely to donations for the
missionary society, and I have heard that as much as $30,000 has been
sent repeatedly away from this little island and its small population.
The Polynesian, in this, like every one else at bottom is on the surface
also a vain creature, incited to display and show off; which perhaps
explains a great many of his apparent atrocities, perhaps even a good
deal of his cannibalism. So that these people have been spurred into
giving at church as a special mode of distinction. Again I am reminded
by my conscience that I have heard of such things amongst us. But I must
go on with them: giving, as a mode of generosity, has been prevalent
among them, fostered by everything that we can think of--and especially
by the fact that a chief, as head of a _community_, is nothing but a
_conduit_ for property. Some may stick if the conduit is very rough, but
to give and give much and all has seemed to me from my first days a
Polynesian brand. Was I not telling you last month, or some way back in
those lovely days of laziness in Tahiti, how Tavi, the over-generous,
gave his wife to Terriere of Papara, through whom we trace our
Polynesian descent. Well, with giving in such ways goes _show_; a silent
giver gets no credit and no power thereby; and most do not like the
strict Gospel teaching, so what is a man to do who planks out his
_dollars_ in church? Any man with twenty-five cents in copper gets more
out of it than he does--crash go the copper coins into the plate, while
the one silver piece slips in edgeways. To remedy such a state of
things, the proper person brings his money in the largest bulk, and if
perchance during the week had not had the occasion to get change, he
finds in the sacred building itself a corner where his large piece can
be exchanged for small; so that in all the pride of justification, he
can roll the coppers into the plate, and even perhaps brim it over, and
send the pennies whirling along the floor.
With many such comparisons of observations we beguiled the time. The
steam launch met us on our return, and we sailed again over the bar,
just in time for the tide, for we were bumped in the crossing, though
the launch only draws a foot. And now we are resting again, enjoying the
delightful coolness; for though the thermometer does not quite bear me
out at times, it has been cool all the time, except of course when one
is in the sun. But the thermometer has gone down to 66 at night, and
keeps up pretty steadily to a range between 70 and 76; and though I have
suffered from sciatica on board ship, I am getting over it.
In this civilized life we are looking forward to a trip, at the end of
this week, into the mountains, accompanying the Governor, who is going
to “prospect” for the site of a sanitarium high up. Strange to say, no
one seems to think of it in the other places we have seen. How easy it
would be in Tahiti, for instance, to go for a change up to some of the
great heights; and such openings into inland places makes things
generally quieter and more orderly.
The thing is vague in my mind, only I fear that we shall be several
weeks in carrying it out, and certainly it will be a rough undertaking.
Then too, how shall we manage to be just in time for the steamer to
Sydney, and then how will the arrival of that steamer dovetail with the
departure of the steamer that is to take us to Singapore?
But to quote from a letter of King George of Tonga to Sir John, worth
citing because it is a type of the semi-religious phraseology we have
seen all through the Pacific, bestowed upon us or upon others:
“When the first man fell from the former state of good he received
from God, there came upon our hearts pain and doubtings and strife
and divisions among ourselves, in regard to unforseen things that
may happen in the future.
But it is with God alone to restore happiness.”
George Tubou’s words convey everything necessary, and I shall report to
you when things have been shaped. Meanwhile “Salaam,” as the little
Indian boys said to me at the sugar plantation--“Salaam, Sahib,” the
first sounds that indicate that we are about turning toward home, and
that India is the next stage.
AN EXPEDITION INTO THE MOUNTAINS OF VITI LEVU
Vunidawa, Viti Levu.
Sunday, June 27, 1891.
We reached Viria on our first evening out, having made the journey in
boats as far as the sugar mill of Namosi, drawn along smoothly, as if on
skates, by a little steam launch, upon which was also part of our
contingent; for even at the beginning we were many: the Governor and his
secretary, Mr. Spence, and Mr. Berry, for surveying and the A. N. C.
(armed native constabulary), and the Governor’s servants, and Awoki, and
the Governor’s herald the Mata Ni Fenua (eyes of the land), and certain
others, and soon Mr. Carew the magistrate on the Rewa, and so on.
It was the same river scenery, mangrove swamps washed by the river, and
by the tide which influences the stream for some forty miles or
more--steep banks cut by the water to an edge, and covered with grass,
sugar-cane, banana--occasional but rarer--cocoanuts and so on.
Later on as we came nearer to the end of the day’s trip, as the banks
grew higher and more hillocky, they became more and more cut up by
ravinings and small cuttings which were sometimes wet, with rivulets or
bayous, sometimes dry, and often so close and narrow as to make but
little clefts in the stone and earth. Across them, over them; rounding
their edges or filling them, grew the trees, sometimes small, sometimes
of great height. All this repeated everywhere made a continuous set of
little pictures of broken lights and forms--through all the course of
the river.
In a small way nothing could be more picturesque. At places where the
bank had sloped and made some little flats, men and women were
collected, bathing or washing clothes: many of them East Indians, women
clothed in the flowing garments, of bright or “entire” colours looking
in their favourite yellow, like great birds; occasionally running along
the shore beach, their drapery swelling behind them, impeding and
showing the motion of the limbs, and recalling the correctness of the
drawings and paintings of Delacroix, who alone, so far, had made the
Oriental that he saw, look like anything else than a geographical or
artistic curiosity. When I think that a few weeks sufficed to store his
mind with all that he had done or implied in this way, I return to my
admiration for his work, which sometimes for a man of the eighties of
this century looks too much like the doings of a man of the thirties.
Once along a high bank near some station (government station), a row of
constabulary stood up and then sat down in a row, respectfully on a
platform of the bank, to do honour to the _Kovana_--the Governor.
Late in the afternoon we turned at one of the confluents and reached our
destination for the night. A high sandy beach all broken over with
footsteps, looking like a Nile embankment--many natives sitting about on
it--then disembarkment and a little walk through some sugar-cane and
banana, on a little raised road, and we came to a native town or
village, inside of a deep ditch of circumvallation, filled with trees,
and inside of a big waste space, the house we were to occupy, alongside
of a few others. The same method of entrance--the trunk of a tree made
into a plank with the natural curve, with notches and holes occasionally
in the wood, as the tree has grown. This wooden path led quite high up,
and some eight feet or so to the base running around the house--the
_yavu_ or permanent base, which is allowed to remain when the house is
dismantled by time or by man.
The house, the usual one with the walls covered with leaves. In one
place a _ti_ branch in full bloom of yellow-red, projecting from its
side as if it grew there (a decoration for our coming). The doorposts of
trunk of tree-fern, all dark grey and corrugated, looking like stone;
and above the doors a false lintel, engaged in the wall and smaller than
the door, looking like a round bulging stone (as if so cut by a
pre-Romanseque architect); the cutting of the chisel admirably
indicated, but in reality nothing but a bunch of grey dried leaves, so
brushed together that they suggested the grain of stone under the
chisel.
In front of the door, or rather at its edges, engaged in the platform,
shells disposed in a pattern, and the same disposed in a half circle in
front of the stairway plank deeply sunk in the earth, so that only their
ridges were visible. All this exquisite good taste in spite of the
repeated assertion, which may be true, that these good people are not at
all sensitive to æsthetic feelings.
The interior as usual: yellow cane in patterns on the walls, and dark
columns of tree-fern, and rafters covered with sennit. Soft mats on the
floor were made softer with leaves thickly strewn under them.
Here there was a presentation of whale’s teeth, of _kava_ and of food;
and here the Governor listened to reports of the place, and talked to
the _mbulis_ (prounounced bulis) (local chiefs of a certain degree), and
later listened to some petitioner of a neighbouring place, who in the
twilight had come to him while standing out in the open; and had
squatted down and mumbled and whispered, and offered some written
petition. Then we ate and slept and in the morning, walked along the
outside upper base, and looked upon the hazy scene--then bathed in the
river while the mist still floated above the tallest trees.
When the sun was well up our party divided, three of us going by canoe,
and the Governor and officials and retinue walking or riding on.
Here then we parted, A. & T. taking the canoe, while the Governor and
the magistrates went on foot and horse by land, to Vunidawa. There was a
little thatched awning upon the canoe’s deck, large enough for three to
manage to stretch under. Six men, three at each end, poled or paddled in
the canoe as the water was deep or shallow; while one man, in this case
I think a sergeant of the “armed native constabulary” (A. N. C.), stood
on the outrigger, or sat about and took charge.
The low roof prevented one’s seeing much of the shores, for to sit up
was to have one’s view absolutely excluded. But all the more important
became the little details of vision, the beauties of line and colour
that one sees everywhere in the movement or the rest of water, its
breaks upon shore or upon rocks, the reflections that it carries with
it, and the near banks or little distant escapes of vision, all framed
within the cane posts of the sun shelter. It was all much the same as
the day before, but the shores became bolder, the breaks greater. Rapids
rushed around us, and our men poled hard against the force of the
water. We passed or were left behind by the other boats carrying the
enormous luggage and accumulation of provisions for such a party. The
profiles of the men in the other boats stood up in contradictory curves
and lines against the shadows and fights of the distance, or the
darkness and glistening of the water. They shouted and called and got
all the fun and excitement out of the hard work that could be had. As
the slopes increased and the river-bed showed more gravel and boulders
in large patches, the talk and chatter of the men reminded me of former
days in Japan, up in the high lands and by the rivers that run there on
great gravel beds.
At every step this impression of reminiscence increases and must
increase, as it occurred to me on the very first morning of arrival,
upon seeing the many small hills and mounds fringed with trees, behind
which came down great slopes of distance; even an occasional waterfall
was there to remind me. The heat was great, the silence also, even
though the men shouted; for occasionally we heard nothing but the
movement of the poles and the ripple of the water. A hawk would flutter
off from some tree. Dragon-flies lighted on the deck or upon one’s
outstretched legs. A spider, folding up like a pair of scissors, so as
to look all long instead of circular, began to build its web, for there
were flies; and all little things became of interest by the time we had
reached our first halt. We were helped up some very high banks of red
clay, partly covered with green bushes and trees, and found ourselves at
the entrance of a pretty little place, with plants and trees neatly set
out, for colour spots. We lunched most comfortably in a native house.
With this break we began again our river course, the rapids increasing,
and the difference between the shoal water and the pools becoming more
evident. Occasionally a large spot of river greened or darkened into
what was depth. In such we longed to bathe, when the moment of halting
would arrive, or before departure, but in none such of these did we
swim. Indeed, little by little, one felt the influence of the assurance
that sharks visited these deep holes, and that to some fifty miles or
more up these rivers there was a possible danger. The shape of the river
banks, the marks on the shore, the thickness of the dry parts of the
river, the size of its boulders and pebbles, the manner in which the
tongues of conglomerate that ran along with the river-bank were cut
down, the sudden cuttings and hollows and ravines of the bank, all
showed what a mass of water, in wet seasons and years, must pour down
these rivers. Then when the tides are high and the waters give access,
great sharks come up and bide their time in the deep pools. No year
passes but that some natives are attacked. Here then the smaller ones
remain when the river runs lower, and change their colour and become
fresh-water sharks, and sometimes when small are harmless; but the
impression of danger is there. I am told that they are seen far up, and
that even as far as we shall get on Monday night, they are occasional.
We landed in the afternoon at Vunidawa, some thirteen miles by land from
our morning’s stay; again coming up high red clay banks, of a beautiful
slope most charmingly set out and arranged, upon which stands the
“station.” I was told that the arrangement of cuts and breaks and
ditches was all modern or recent, but that at one place there were the
remains of the old cut or moat on the upper hillside. But the place had
a fortified look--one looked down from high banks (below and around
which ran paths) upon a hollow centre in which stood native houses and
great trees. In the distance, mountains across the river; toward the
west, one great streaked mass, with an outline vaguely like the Aorai of
Tahiti, the smaller ridges in front of it showing high precipices that
looked violet in the dawn, with occasional shiny white spots; all else
with a faint haze of green, except where far off, further to the west, a
pointed peak looked blue. Along the bight of the curved river a line of
cocoanuts stood near the high banks. Further on one could discern
to-morrow’s road, that disappeared behind a turn of the river, and up
the edges of the intermediate hills in the distance yellow patches and
markings modelled the slopes of the first uplands.
Sunday.
All next day we rested. The sitting-room of the pretty native house was
decorated with native _tappa_ (_masi_) of many patterns. Books and
magazines were upon the tables and shelves of cane. The Governor and the
resident magistrate, Mr. Joski, whose house this was, received reports
from the _mbulis_ (chiefs) of the neighbourhood, while sitting out in
the evening on the green slope of the garden.