DUGONG AND TURTLE FISHING
During my former visit to Mabuiag I had an opportunity of witnessing the
method of catching dugong. It was a morning in October, 1888, when I
accompanied the Mamoose on a dugong expedition; the crew of his lugger
numbered some dozen men, all natives of his island. A few of the most
wealthy of the Torres Straits islanders own, wholly or in part, craft
of that particular type, as these Australian-made vessels are more
convenient than their own dug-out canoes. All the natives appear to be
good sailors, and they can handle boats of European rig with considerable
dexterity.
On our way to the fishing-ground, which was on the extensive and
uncharted Orman’s Reef between Mabuiag and the New Guinea coast, the gear
was put in order. This consisted of the dugong harpoon and its rope.
The harpoon is a handsome weapon usually some fourteen feet in length,
and made of a hard and heavy wood. One end is ornamented with the sable
plumes of the cassowary, the other extremity is swollen, and into a
terminal hole is loosely inserted a dart to which the rope is lashed.
The dart was formerly always fashioned out of hard wood, but since the
arrival of the white man it has usually been replaced by one made out of
a file. The latter is softened by heating in a fire, and is allowed to
cool slowly; the angles of the triangular rasping end are then cut into
barbs by means of another file. As the bright surface would speedily
rust when exposed to the action of the salt water, the cut file is again
heated so as to obtain an oxidised film over the new surface.
The rope may be either plaited or twisted, each kind being made from
a different plant. Home-made rope is preferred to that of European
manufacture, as it is light and floats upon the surface of the water,
whereas hempen or manila rope sinks.
The coil of rope, thirty to fifty fathoms in length, to which the harpoon
dart is attached, is laid ready at the bow of the boat, and a spare rope
coiled midship.
All hands next look out for the dugong, and the chief takes his place at
the further end of the bowsprit, the harpoon being placed where it can be
seized without a moment’s delay. Now we are scudding along over the sea,
the dirty green colour of which shows that we are above the reefs, the
waves being crested by the continuously blowing south-east trade wind;
the lavender-coloured sky is studded with clouds which ever belie their
pluvial appearance.
[Illustration: FIG. 15. DUGONG HARPOON AND DART]
There is a shout of “_Dungal!_” (“Dugong”), but the sea-cow is a long
way off. Then the cry of “_Waru!_” (“Turtle”) is heard as one of these
reptiles lazily floats on the surface of the water.
After cruising about for a long time and sighting but few dugong, we at
length arrive at a spot where they are plentiful, and all round they are
repeatedly to be seen as they rise up to breathe. A soft grunt is heard,
a glimpse caught of a brown rounded back followed by a fan-shaped tail,
and the beast again disappears beneath the waves, unless one happens to
float for a short time on the surface of the water. This is the hunter’s
opportunity, and the boat is put through movements which remind one of
the method of progression of a learner on a bicycle, as it dodges about
in the helmsman’s endeavours to approach the floating beast.
When distant from the prey the natives shout and chatter in a very
lively manner, and go through a pantomime of harpooning a dugong; but
when one is observed close by, a sudden hush falls upon the crew, who
are by this time in a state of highly strung and barely suppressed
excitement. Directions are given to the steersman by signals only, not
a word is said. The chief stands at the end of the bowsprit grasping
the narrow spar with his bare toes, harpoon in one hand, and with the
other steadying himself by the rigging, and well he may, for the boat is
pitching and tossing considerably. Behind him in the bow stands a man
whose business it is to look after the rope and see that it does not get
caught anywhere. Perched a short way up the foremast is the look-out man,
who makes the signals; and behind are the rest of us, following with
glistening eyes the movements of the dugong, and making at most a subdued
whistle or the clacking sound so characteristic of these islanders.
All of a sudden the chief springs into the water, harpoon in hand, using
the latter after the manner of a leaping pole, and plunging the dart
into the animal. The aim is good, and the dart is firmly embedded in
the dense, thick skin of the dugong, who is by this time tearing along,
followed by the trailing rope.
The repressed excitement of the spectators finds vent in shouts and
in various other manifestations of delight, for my comrades are a
demonstrative people. Their enthusiasm was contagious, and more than once
I found myself adopting their clacking and whistling in addition to the
ordinary British methods of expressing delight and surprise.
The chief regains his harpoon and clambers up into the boat, where he
manifests his satisfaction by a very broad grin. Shirts are doffed, and
even the universal “calico” is in many cases dispensed with, as several
men dive into the water. The spare rope is thrown overboard, and the
men strike out for the dugong. Amid great shouting they endeavour to
make fast a rope round its tail, swimming up to it when it comes up to
breathe, and diving after it in its descent, their power of holding their
breath under water appearing almost to rival that of the dugong itself.
The main object of tying the rope round the creature’s tail is to prevent
it from raising its nostrils above the level of the water by bearing down
upon the rope during the animal’s ascent. In time these manœuvres are
successful, and death by drowning results. The lubberly carcass is towed
towards the boat, and after much effort and more noise it is hauled on
board.
As we are in the thick of a “school,” the chief intends to have a try
at another before returning, although it is near sundown and we are far
from home. After some skilful steering, and the rise and fall of several
vain hopes, we bear down upon another dugong. A sudden leap, a splash,
and the deed is done. Away swims the dugong, rising and diving, vainly
endeavouring to rid itself of the painful dart. When the ungainly brute
has gone to the length of its tether and then doubled, the slack rope is
hauled in, and so for a short time it is “played” as a fisherman plays
a salmon. Some of the crew now dive into the water, and following the
struggling dugong in its movements of ascent and descent, tie a rope
round its tail, by means of which it is towed to the boat. The poor beast
is, however, still alive, so by main force it is held up by the tail,
head downwards in the water, until it is suffocated. This second specimen
is a young female, 6 feet 9 inches in length. The previous capture is a
not quite full-grown male with a length of some 8 feet 6 inches, and a
girth of 6 feet 10 inches.
The dugong, or sea-cow, is an animal that looks something like a
porpoise, but it has a square muzzle, and there is no fin on its back.
The skin is provided with very short scattered hairs, and the flippers
have a distinct elbow joint, which is absent in the porpoise and other
whales. The abrupt head, with its thick, bristly lips, and horny pad on
the lower jaw, is very characteristic. With these the dugong nips off
the marine flowering plants (Cymodocea) upon which it feeds, and this
vegetable food is masticated by means of grinding teeth—very different
from the pointed conical teeth of the flesh-eating porpoise.
Porpoises that feed on swiftly-swimming fish have light porous bones,
so that their own weight may not be excessive; whereas the dugong never
swims far with great rapidity, and as it lies on its side on the bottom
of the sea when browsing on the sea-grass, its bones are very dense and
heavy, heavier, in fact, than those of any other animal.
This is not the place to compare the anatomy of these two animals, which,
although both live in the sea and have somewhat the same appearance, are
in reality extremely different from one another.
[Illustration: FIG. 16. MARINE PLANTS (CYMODOCEA) ON WHICH THE DUGONG
FEEDS]
The skin of the dugong is very thick and tough, and as it is an inch
thick on the back it is not so surprising that the small dart can hold
fast. Before I had actual optical evidence I could scarcely credit the
statement that this was the only weapon the natives employed. Still, it
must be remembered that the harpoon is only used to secure the animal;
death invariably ensues by suffocation. One day during my visit it
happened that two boats went out, and several darts were broken without
capturing a single dugong; in the olden days of wooden darts this
probably would often happen.
Formerly dugong were harpooned from canoes, or from a bamboo platform
(_nēĕt_) erected on the reef. Both practices are now discontinued in the
Straits. As I wished to know exactly how the platform was erected, I
induced Waria to make one for me. This was speedily done with six bamboo
poles lashed together, and surmounted with the steering board of a
canoe. Plate XI., B (p. 123) is a drawing from the photograph I took of
this erection.
The _nēĕt_ was erected at a spot where it was evident dugong had been
feeding, for they habitually return to their pasture until the supply
of eel-grass in that place is exhausted. It was built end-on to the
wind, so that the wind, by blowing through it, should not make a noise
and frighten the dugong away. The harpoon was also held in the same
direction. The _nēĕt_ was used at night, for it is only then that the
dugong approach the shore; in the daytime they keep to the open, or on
the large isolated reefs.
[Illustration: FIG. 17.
Drawings by Gizu of the process of harpooning a dugong. One man stands on
the _nēĕt_ waiting for a dugong to approach. In the second sketch a man
has harpooned the dugong, and has thrown himself backward in the water
so as to be out of reach of the coils of the rope as it runs from the
_nēĕt_. Another man is swimming, and is tying a spare rope on to the tail
of the dugong.]
Charms which were supposed to ensure the approach of the dugong to the
platform were often suspended to it, or hung on to a canoe. I have
obtained several very small and neatly carved models of dugong at Murray
Island that were employed for this purpose, but those I obtained from the
western islands were of much greater size. A fine one from Moa is a foot
and a half in length. This has a cavity hollowed out in the back, which,
when in use, was filled up with red earth and various plants, including
some eel-grass which had been chewed by the sorcerer who employed it;
dugong fat completed the mixture. A bunch of eel-grass was tied to the
tail, and along its back were lashed the thin leg-bones (_fibulæ_) of the
sorcery man who carved the image. These were added after his death, to
render the charm more effective. The whole was painted red, and fastened
to a dugong platform, as in Plate XI., B (p. 123).
About the mouth of the Fly River, and I believe along the New Guinea
coast and islands as far as Saibai, queer carved pegs called _agumanakai_
are stuck in the canoes when going turtle or dugong hunting. I believe
the word _agumanakai_ means “the spirit (_manaki_) of the trophy;” the
_agu_ is a platform on which the carapaces of turtle are arranged as a
trophy. A dugong trophy may possibly also be called _agu_, but I am not
sure of this. Some have the end carved in the form of a bird’s head,
while others represent a very conventional dugong’s head; they were
decorated with feathers. Seligmann collected a very interesting specimen
of the latter class, which, in addition to the dugong, had carved on it
a representation of a sting-ray, which was evidently the totem of the
owner. This particular specimen not only acted as a charm to make dugong
come to be harpooned, but it would turn round towards where the dugong
were swimming, and thereby indicate to the owner the direction in which
he should steer.
[Illustration: FIG. 18. WOODEN DUGONG CHARM
Obtained at Moa in 1888]
The sorcerers were credited with the power of compassing the death,
by strangulation, of a dugong harpooner. In leaping into the water to
harpoon a dugong care has to be taken not to get entangled in the rope.
It has happened that the head of a man comes up within a coil, and as
the rope is rapidly drawn out by the retreating dugong, the luckless
harpooner is speedily strangled. Not unnaturally the sorcerer would claim
such an accidental death as being due to his own powers of magic, and
thus increase his reputation. This could be the more easily asserted,
since all disease and death, even from old age, were firmly believed to
be due to sorcery, and not to natural causes.
The dugong naturally enters into several of the native legends. One of
them relates how Sesere of Badu, who was afterwards transformed into a
bird, first discovered the dugong as an article of food and how to catch
it, by divining with the skulls of his parents. I have already alluded
to the fancied resemblance of the hill of Gelam, in Murray Island, to a
dugong, for which there is, as usual, a myth of origin.
Like the dugong the turtle is an important article of food in Torres
Straits. There are two periods for turtle-fishing, really lasting all
the year, the one during October and November, which is the pairing
season, and when turtle are easily speared, owing to their floating on
the surface of the water. The pairing turtle is called _surlal_, and that
season is called _surlangi_. The other turtle season extends throughout
the remaining months of the year, when the turtle, then called _waru_,
frequent the deeper water and the channels between the reefs.
The western islanders have a very remarkable method of obtaining turtle,
which, strangely enough, is said to be also employed at Mozambique in
East Africa. There is a fish belonging to the family of mackerels called
the “sucker-fish,” that has a large sucker on its head, by means of which
it attaches itself to sharks and turtles. The species in Torres Straits
is called _Echeneis naucrates_ by zoologists.
When going on a turtling excursion a _gapu_, or sucker-fish, is caught,
and the more experienced natives appear to have no difficulty in
procuring one when required. A hole is made at the base of the tail-fin,
through which the end of a very long piece of string is inserted and
made fast. A short piece of string is passed through the mouth and out
at the gills, securing the head. By means of these two strings the fish
is retained in the water, while slung over the side of the canoe. On
sighting a turtle in deep water the front string is withdrawn, plenty of
slack being allowed in the hind string. The sucker-fish on perceiving the
turtle immediately swims towards it, and attaches itself to the reptile’s
carapace. If the turtle be a little one, it is hauled in by means of the
tail string of the _gapu_; but should it be a large specimen, another
mode of procedure is necessary.
A man, with the end of a long rope attached to his right upper-arm, dives
into the water and follows the clue. On reaching the turtle the man gets
on to its back and passes his arms behind and below the fore-flappers and
his legs in front of and below the hind-flappers, thus securing a firm
grip on the slippery beast. By means of the rope attached to his arm the
man is rapidly drawn up to the surface of the water bearing the turtle
with him. Other members of the crew dive into the water, and seizing hold
of the turtle, capsize it into the canoe.
On the arrival of the diver the sucker-fish usually shifts its position
from the upper to the under surface of the turtle. I was informed that
at the end of the day’s fishing the _gapu_ was eaten, which seems hardly
fair.
The natives have a great respect for the _gapu_, and firmly believe it to
have supernatural powers. For example, they believe that when there is
something the matter with the bow of the canoe, the _gapu_ will attach
itself to the neck or to the front shield-plate of the turtle; that when
the lashings of the float of the outrigger of the canoe are insecure,
the _gapu_ will not stick fast to the turtle, but will constantly shift
its position; that if the strengthening cross-ties in the centre of the
canoe are faulty, the _gapu_ will attach itself to the turtle, and then
swim away before the turtle can be secured. More than once I was gravely
assured, “Gapu savvy all same man, I think him half devil.”
Formerly the shells of the captured turtle were placed on a long platform
(_agu_), each canoe having its separate _agu_, and the crew that had
the greatest number at the end of the season would acquire the greatest
glory. Hanging round the platform were large and small bull-roarers and
wooden human effigies (_wauri_).
Before going out turtling the men marched round the _agu_ and whirled the
bull-roarers, always circling clockwise; if they marched widdershins,
the turtle would go away from them. The captain would call out, “Come
along, all our crew; come with me fellow.” Then they would take some
bull-roarers and _wauri_ to the canoe, and the captain invoked the
spirits of the _wauri_ that remained on the _agu_ to give them luck in
their enterprise so that they might get plenty of turtle.
When the canoes were expected to return, a man would station himself on
a hill to look out for them. In due time he would see the under sides of
the captured turtle gleaming in the successful canoes while yet a long
way off; then he whirled a small bull-roarer, and the women knew that the
fishers had been lucky.
On the arrival of the canoes the men first went to the _agu_ before
cutting up the turtle. They marched round and swung the bull-roarers, and
returned them and the _wauri_ to the platform.
Several dugong and turtle were caught one week of our stay, and we had
some of the meat, and found it a most welcome change. The native method
of cutting up living turtle is a ghastly sight. The poor beast lies
on its back and beats the air with its flappers, boys and girls, even
naked little things that can scarcely toddle, stand round fingering and
patting the bleeding flesh, or poke their fingers in the eyes of the
turtle, or scoop up handfuls of clotted gore, ladling it into large
shells. The natives have names for the various joints and for regions of
the intestine much as we have; the liver and gall-bladder and some other
parts have the same names in the dugong and turtle, but the heart of each
has a different name. Seligmann and I noted down the names of various
parts of both dugong and turtle, while Wilkin photographed some stages of
the butchery.