VISITS TO VARIOUS WESTERN ISLANDS
It was sad to feel that the end of our stay in Torres Straits was drawing
near. On October 19th Rivers left us, and two days later Wilkin also had
to go. Ray, Seligmann, and myself alone were left.
On October 21st the Hon. John Douglas came in the _White Star_ to convey
us away from Mabuiag, and we made an early start next morning. Mr.
Douglas made the valuable suggestion that before going on to Saibai we
should run down to Yam to pick up my old friend Maino, the Mamoose of Tut
and Yam, in order that he might give us information. We did so, and Maino
was very pleased to come with us, and we shipped another Yam native named
Kaikai.
We reached Saibai in the afternoon, and went ashore for a stroll.
Saibai is a relatively large low island, but it is scarcely more than
a ring-like, vegetated sandbank surrounding a huge swamp. The natives,
numbering about one hundred and fifty to two hundred, are a quiet,
industrious people, and grow a sufficient quantity of garden produce.
We found them very intelligent, and anxious to assist us in gaining
information.
We all went after breakfast on Sunday, October 23rd, to attend the
morning service, which should have been held at nine o’clock, but was
postponed till our arrival. This church was opened about two years ago,
and is a very creditable edifice, entirely built by the natives. The
walls and roof are of corrugated iron, and the architecture is of the
plainest; but the people are deservedly proud of their effort, which not
only represents time, energy, and money spent by themselves, but it is
also the outward and visible sign of their own advance in civilisation,
they feel it to be a bond of union between themselves and white
Christians. It is easy to sneer at the plainness—ugliness if you will—of
a tin tabernacle, but within an ungainly chrysalis there may be enshrined
an incipient butterfly; the psyche of the savage, or barbarian, whether
black or white, may similarly emerge from the baldest and stiffest of
meeting-houses.
It is often very pathetic to see the evident strivings of these people to
be like the white man; to my mind they are too ready to cast away their
past, for with the crudities and social unrest of savagery there are
flung aside also many of the excellent moral codes and social safeguards
of the old order of things. Much native wheat is rooted up with the tares.
After the service I photographed the interior of the church, and later
showed the natives photographs and sketches and chatted on various
subjects, and altogether had a very profitable day. Before our midday
dinner I had completed a census of the island, with the totem of every
individual, and as I walked through the village the names of the
residents of every house were recorded. There was no time to trace the
genealogies as far back as Rivers did for Murray Island and Mabuiag,
but still, what was accomplished will enable one to get some insight
into the social organisation of the people. Rivers did not enumerate
the inhabitants of every house in Murray Island and Mabuiag because the
clans were all mixed up, but as we had found in Kiwai the houses were
clan-houses, I thought the same might possibly occur here. We found
that formerly this was the case, and that the snake (_Tabu_) and wild
sweet potato (_Daibau_) clans lived on one side of the village, and the
crocodile (_Kodal_), dog (_Umai_), and cassowary (_Sam_) lived on the
other side. This division of the village into clan groups was said to
tend to faction fights, and so the missionary tried to mix them up. There
are still, however, distinct traces to be found of clan groupings in the
village. I have previously referred to the double grouping of the clans
in Mabuiag and Pulu, and a similar dual division is common throughout
Australia. On the mainland of New Guinea to the east there is often a
dual grouping in a village, about which more information is required, but
in this case there is at present no evidence to connect it with totemism.
Ten years ago Maino, the chief of Tut, who is a crocodile-man, as a
sign of friendship, exchanged names with me, and on the strength of
this, on arriving at Saibai, I claimed to be a crocodile-man also, and
in this assertion was supported by Maino. The other crocodile-men at
once acknowledged me, for a few minutes after I landed on the island a
crocodile-man made me a present of some coconuts, and stated in doing so
that we were relatives.
Later on when I was sitting among a group of natives showing pictures and
chatting, someone hinted a doubt as to whether an Englishman could have
a crocodile _augŭd_. Wherever one goes one always finds some incredulous
person who will not bow unquestioningly to authority. I immediately
rolled up my shirt sleeves and showed my vaccination marks, which I
happen to have on both shoulders, and I pointed this out as a proof of
my pretensions; the evidence at once silenced all sceptical remarks, and
carried conviction. The whiteness of the skin of my upper arms, unburned
as it was by the hot sun, attracted much attention, especially from the
ladies.
I was chagrined to find that my clan, though formerly an important
one here, was on the decline, and that a plant clan was now the most
numerous. This appears to be the only true plant totem in Torres
Straits, and forms another interesting link with the Fly River district.
Intermarriage in the same clan is prohibited; but I believe they now kill
and eat their totems.
I wanted to obtain a special kind of yellow earth that is traded as paint
from this to the other islands and to New Guinea, but we were told that
snakes would bite anyone who went into the bush on a Sunday. These snakes
must be very degenerate subjects of the Old Serpent, the Father of Lies,
if they support so strict a Sabbatarianism.
Unfortunately the triple-crowned coconut palm that I sketched on my last
visit here has died, so I could not photograph it as I had hoped to do.
When I was making the sketch I was, as usual, surrounded by a bevy of
onlookers, and one man said to me, “I wish I could make a coconut palm
grow as fast as you draw it!” As I sketched in the neighbouring palms,
the bystanders mentioned the name of the owner of each, and thus I
learned that every tree is owned by somebody, and in a group of palms
several men or women may own various trees. It is common for a man to own
land, but not to own all the trees or plants that grow on it.
On the same occasion I sketched one of the houses, in which the lower
portion was roughly walled up with coconut palm leaves, so as to make a
second dwelling-place beneath the house proper. At this particular time
the natives of Boigu, an island some fifteen miles to the west, had come
to Saibai for safety. They had heard that the Tugeri pirates were coming
on a head-hunting raid, and knew they could not withstand them unaided.
There was not enough house room in Saibai for these visitors, and so the
under portion of this house was roughly wattled for their accommodation.
This was at that time the only two-storied house in Torres Straits.
[Illustration: FIG. 20. HOUSE ON PILES AT SAIBAI
With the lower portion screened with leaves (1888)]
The ancient pile dwellings of Switzerland were built in the lakes for
safety from attack by enemies. When the country became more settled, the
pile dwellings were built on the shore instead of in the water, which
is the present condition of most of the coastal villages in New Guinea.
Later the Swiss put stones round the outer posts that supported their
houses, and the ground floor, thus formed, was used as a shed. This is
what one still finds so often in Switzerland. The real dwelling-house is
supported on posts as in the prehistoric days, and the staircase is still
outside the house, as was the original log ladder.
This Saibai house was temporarily in an intermediate condition between
the ancient pile dwelling and the modern Swiss chalets. Not only was
the final step never taken, but when the immediate need of increased
accommodation was not felt, the house reverted to its previous state.
On Monday morning we measured ten natives pretty thoroughly and took a
number of photographs. Ray exhibited the phonograph, and obtained some
new records, whilst Seligmann worked hard at native medicine. Altogether
we got through a great deal of work during these two days.
We made an early start on Tuesday in the _White Star_, and anchored off
Tut in the forenoon, as I wished once more to go over the old sacred
sites with Maino. No one lives on the island now, and the sacred spots
are overgrown with bush, and most of the old stones are removed or broken
up. This was very disappointing, and I was able to add only a very little
to my previous information. It was an intensely hot day, and we were
parched with thirst and soaked with perspiration.
The natives of Yam and Tut are one people. In olden days they resided
part of the year in one island, and the rest in the other; now the
greatly reduced population is permanently quartered on Yam. The people
occasionally come across from Yam to look after their gardens, and we
photographed the simple huts they had erected, which, we were informed,
were like the old houses before the natives had adopted the South Sea
type of house.
TUT
Tut, or Tud, or Warrior Island as it is now generally called, is situated
at the southern end of the great Warrior Reefs. The island is very low,
not more than ten feet above sea-level in any part, and is a true coral
island, having been formed by the sea heaping coral sand and detritus on
the reef, till these formed barriers which keep the sea itself at bay. As
is usually the case in these parts, the soil is rendered fertile by the
disintegration of pumice drifting on to the island from distant volcanoes.
Tut is evidently an island in process of formation, and is, roughly
speaking, hook-shaped, the curved space being a lagoon, which is filled
during the whole of the north-west monsoon, but dry except at high tide,
during the south-east trade, _i.e._ during the greater portion of the
year. This lagoon is evidently gradually silting up, and will ultimately
form a permanent part of the island.
The vegetation is scrubby, but there are some old trees near the middle
of the island. In old times the people were often short of food. At my
visit in 1888 they were comfortably off, owing to the fact that most of
the men were engaged in the fishing industries of the Straits, and were
therefore able to buy provisions. On that occasion Maino met us, and
after visiting a house and noticing a woman playing at cat’s cradle,
we walked across the island to the village. There was a good deal of
orange-coloured dodder festooning the shrubs and grass; one coconut palm
bore the inscription of =BILI FIJI=, to announce the fact of that tree
being owned by Billy, a native of Fiji. A coconut lying on the ground was
sending up two vigorous sprouts.
After passing the mouth of the lagoon we reached the village, and after a
little persuasion the natives got up a _kŏpa-kŏpa_, or native dance, for
our entertainment.
It was, however, too hurriedly arranged, and there were not enough
performers for it to be very effective. Two men and about eight women and
girls danced. The latter, obeying a message sent on by Maino in advance
of us, had donned their garments of civilisation, from a mistaken wish
to show us due honour; but after some difficulty they acceded to our
request, and with much laughing and chattering retired to take off their
ugly long calico gowns, and reappeared more suitably clad in their pretty
native leaf petticoats, but they had added coloured girdles and wraps
round their chests.
Maino played the drum for the dance, and was surrounded by his wife and
children and other women and children who joined in singing a chant and
encouraging the dancers. A largess of tobacco closed the proceedings.
Mr. Milman, who was then Acting Resident Magistrate, offered to take
Maino to Mawatta on the New Guinea coast, as that was his wife’s native
place. At daybreak next morning Maino came to the steamer, and we paid
him a tomahawk, five yards of calico, and some tobacco for a mask and
other articles he brought us. He remarked he should give the tomahawk and
calico to his mother-in-law, as he had not yet “paid” for his last baby!
The anchorage at Tut is at the opposite end of the island from Maino’s
camp, and a few bêche-de-mer fishermen and their staff of Australian
blacks then occupied that part of the island. Tom Randolf, a Dane,
kindly lent me a small galvanised iron shed with a thatch roof; part
of it was occupied by sacks of flour, rice, and miscellaneous stores.
At the other end he put a couch for me, and two native mats formed a
mattress, on which I was comfortable enough. The door of the shed was
fastened with handcuffs, of which I kept the key, and so did not feel a
prisoner. Randolf gave me some fowls, eggs, and a chunk of turtle-meat,
which formed a pleasant change after a long course of tinned meats. He
also allowed me to use his fresh water, of which there is a very scanty
supply, there being only a very little brackish water on the island,
which Europeans cannot use. The natives as well as the settlers procured
their drinking water from the island of Yam, some fifteen miles away.
Maino gave me a good deal of valuable information respecting the
initiation of boys into manhood, and took me into the bush to show me
where their ceremonies formerly took place. With Maino’s assistance I
could fairly well conjure up the past appearance of this tabooed _kwod_.
On entering manhood the boys were secluded in the _kwod_ for one month,
and might on no account see a woman, or be seen by any. A large stone
was shown me, with which a long time ago seven boys had been killed for
breaking this rule. These misguided youths, tired of the irksomeness of
the discipline, broke away from the _kwod_, and seeing their mothers
carrying some yams and sweet potatoes shouted out to them, and holding
their left arms to attract attention, asked for food.
During the month of their seclusion the boys daily had charcoal made from
charred coconuts rubbed into them; they might eat anything, except fat,
and were in charge of their mother’s brother. During the day the boys
were covered with mats, sewn together to form little tents; so that when
the boys sat down only the tents were seen, and when they walked their
legs alone were visible. The whole day was spent in the sacred camp.
After sunset the uncles took the boys to a house set apart for them, and
before sunrise, when the “pigeon whistles,” they were marched back to the
clearing.
The old men taught the lads what they might and might not do as men. The
code of morality so far as it went was very high, one quaint instruction
being, “You no like girl first; if you do, girl call you ‘woman’!” For it
is the custom here for the women to propose marriage to the men.
The accompanying sketch is an attempted restoration of the sacred area,
or _kwod_, of about thirty years ago. The four large mats in the centre
belonged respectively (from the foreground backwards) to the Shark,
Crocodile, Dog, and Cassowary clans. The fires of the first two were
close together at one end, the Cassowary’s fire at the opposite end, and
the Dog’s fire on one side; on the side opposite the latter was placed
the chief’s mat. The fireplaces are still to be seen. At one end of
each mat was a large crocodile-head mask; besides these were some leaf
coverings used in initiatory rites. The drums occupied the centre. The
fires were tended by lads already initiated; the men sat on their mats,
or sat and stood around; the boys to be initiated were grouped at each
end of the _kwod_.
[Illustration: FIG. 21. RESTORATION OF THE KWOD IN TUT DURING THE
INITIATION PERIOD]
At the end of the month the boys were washed, gaily decked, and anointed
with a pungent scent, thereby hoping to gain favour with the girls. They
were marched towards the village with a large mat raised in front of
them. On reaching an open space the mat was lowered, and the lads were
then seen for the first time by their fathers, female relations, and
friends. The mothers and aunts rushed forward, hugged, and cried over the
lads. There were great rejoicings and feastings, for the boys were then
acknowledged as men.
Amongst the relics Maino showed me the navel shrine (_kupai_ or _kupor_)
of Sigai, a great warrior and traveller of long ago. Before going to
fight the men would stand around the shrine of large shells and dig their
bows and arrows into the ground there, so that virtue might pass into
them. The men also took a coconut, and broke it. If it broke evenly in
two halves, they would have a successful foray; if the fracture was not
straight, they would kill only a few men. Should a piece of the coconut
shell break off, a close relative of the man who broke it would die
soon. All the men who were consulting the oracle ate a small piece of
the kernel of the broken coconut, and took up the broken halves and put
“medicine” inside.
I believe I was the first European to whom these revered relics of the
past had been shown, and I felt quite sorry for my friend when, looking
at one of the memorable stones with tears in his eyes, he said, “I think
of old men, and I sorry. All finish now.”
Later Maino gave me the head-dress his father, “king” Kebiso, wore when
on the war-path, and a boar’s tusk ornament which he stuck in his mouth
to render his appearance yet more terrible.
Like a true gentleman, Maino did not let me know at the time of his
reluctance to part with these relics of his famous father. I did not
ask him for them, seeing how highly he valued them, but he offered them
freely to me. I then asked what he wanted in return, and gave him what
he asked for—a small oval looking-glass, a pocket-knife, a blue bead
necklace, and seven sticks of tobacco for the head-dress; and for the
tusk ornament a pocket-knife, two clay pipes, and four sticks of tobacco.
He wanted me to have these mementoes of his father, partly because of
our real friendship for each other, but also partly because he wanted
them exhibited in a big museum in England, where plenty of people would
see them and would know to whom they once belonged. They are now in the
British Museum.
YAM
To return to the narrative of the present Expedition. We reached Yam in
the afternoon, and all landed to have a look round. Maino took me to the
old _kwod_, and I made a rough plan of it, and obtained a description
of what it looked like formerly. After dinner I sketched a restoration,
and later, when Maino and Jimmy Tut came off to the steamer, I got them
to criticise it; and Maino made some sketches to elucidate details, the
result being that I can with confidence restore what possibly no white
man ever saw, or, at all events, no one has recorded it. The following
day I returned to the _kwod_ to take some photographs, and further
information was given me.
There was in the _kwod_ a low fence surrounding a space of about
thirty-five feet square, in which were the shrines of the two great
_augŭds_ of the island. All that now remains are three heaps of shells,
mainly of the gigantic Fusus.
Two of the heaps are about twenty-five feet long; the third is relatively
small. Formerly, at the southerly end of each long row was a large
turtle-shell mask, representing a crocodile and a hammer-headed shark
respectively. These were decorated in various ways, and under each was a
stone in which the life of the _augŭd_ resided; stretching from each mask
was a cord to which numerous human lower jawbones were fastened; at the
opposite end was a stone on which a skull rested.
[Illustration: FIG. 22. RESTORATION OF THE KWOD IN YAM]
The small heap is the shrine of the _augŭd Ger_, or sea-snake, which
originated from the hammer-headed shark (_Kursi_). These shrines were
formerly covered over by long low huts decorated, like the fence, with
Fusus shells.
Outside the fence were two heaps of shells which had a mystical
connection with the shrines. These were the _augŭdau kupar_, or navel
shrines of the _augŭds_.
Of course women and children might not come near the place, and, further,
they did not know what the _augŭds_ were like. They only knew of the
crocodile (_Kodal_) as “Maiau” and of the hammer-headed shark (_Kursi_)
as “Sigai.” These heroes were related to the equally legendary Malu of
Murray Island, who also had a dual human-shark personality.
This discovery is another of the links found between totemism and
hero-worship, which I have noted in Torres Straits. I am not aware
whether this transition has been previously described as occurring among
a living people, but it seems as if it may be possible to trace some
stages at least between pure totemism on the one hand and hero-worship on
the other, and a hero-worship that is suspiciously like the origin of a
god. I have collected all the legends I could concerning the histories of
the heroes Bornai, Malu, Sigai, Maiau, and Sau.
According to our usual custom we visited all the shrines we heard of
in the island; of these not the least interesting was the small boys’
_kwod_, in which were two small heaps of ruddled shells, and where the
boys played at _augŭd_. All over the world boys mimic the actions of
their fathers, and we came across several instances of this during our
Expedition. At Veifaa, in the Mekeo district of British New Guinea, some
boys imitated, as we shall see, the masked taboo officials. Here they
went a step further, and played at _augŭd_, the most sacred of all their
religious ceremonies. In this case they cannot be said to have exactly
mimicked their elders, as they did not know what the real _augŭd_ was
like, nor how the ceremonies were conducted, but they “made believe” to
their own satisfaction.
Returning from the _kwod_, Maino pointed out a shelter under a rock where
formerly two skulls had been kept. Unfortunately one was burnt when
the ground was being cleared for a garden, but the other was in good
condition, and Maino allowed me to appropriate it. He did not wish me
to take the lower jaw of the burnt skull which was lying close by, and
was anxious that no one should know he had given me the whole skull, nor
would he touch it himself.
The afternoon was mainly devoted to photography and the phonograph.
NAGIR
We made an early start the next day, and in the forenoon visited Nagir
(Mount Ernest). Here we found only two old men and one old woman. There
were a few other inhabitants out in shelling boats, but the islanders are
on the verge of extinction.
As we could only have two hours on the island, and there were places on
it we wished to visit, there was but little time to prosecute inquiries;
still we got something done.
The old _kwod_ and other sacred spots are in a shocking state. Jimmy
Samoa, an enormous Samoan, has resided on the island for many years,
and he has made his garden in the _kwod_ and built his house close by
it. “Ichabod” was writ large. There was nothing to see, and very little
reliable information to be had. It was a poor set-off, so far as we were
concerned, to find Jimmy Samoa in possession of a graphophone!
A few days after my arrival in Torres Straits in 1888 I visited Nagir,
and recalling the fact that when H.M.S. _Alert_ was surveying the
district six years previously Dr. Coppinger had obtained at this island
two decorated skulls, I tried to get another. My inquiries after “head
belong dead man,” aided by a sketch and emphasised by a promise of ample
remuneration, elicited in time the information from Aiwŏli that he
“savvied” and that he “got ’im.” Forbidding me from following him, Aiwŏli
disappeared round the corner, and in a very short space of time returned
with a basket containing a skull wrapped up in two very old and dirty red
cotton handkerchiefs. (Plate XII., B, No. 1, p. 139.)
The skull was that of a young, unmarried man, Magau, whose English name
was “Billy,” and who died about the end of 1887. His death was firmly
believed to have been caused by the telepathic magic of a _maidelaig_, or
sorcery man, then residing at Cape York, some twenty-five miles away.
When Magau died, Kuduma, his uncle, and Aina (“Harry Nagir”), his
foster-brother, agreed, “Very good, we make him same as man long-time
fashion. We take him head, but leave him body in ground.” So they buried
him. On the fourth day after interment all the _mariget_, or men whose
particular duty it was, went very quietly in a crouching manner to the
grave. When they arrived there they all suddenly and simultaneously
stamped on the ground, clapped their hands once, and cried “Ah!” Then
the _mari_, or spirit, finally departed from Magau, and his head would
come off easily from his body. The earth was removed from the body, and
one particular man took hold of the cranium and another seized the jaw,
and the head was easily severed from the trunk. A special _mariget_ kept
the skull, washed it in the sea, and when it was quite clean and sweet
he painted blue marks over the eyes, inserted pearl-shell eyes, and
moulded a nose out of wood and beeswax, which he painted red. The length
was accurate, for it was the custom to measure the length of the nose
of a dead person with a piece of stick, which was carefully preserved
to this end. The deficiency of teeth was supplied with half a dozen
pieces of wood, the jaw was lashed on to the cranium, and seed and calico
ear-pendants were attached. So it was made “flash.”
After about three months a death-dance was held (“made him _merkai_”), at
the same time a big feast was made, but in addition to the yams, sweet
potatoes, coconuts, bananas, and so forth, of olden time this feast was
said to be reinforced with four bags of flour, one case of gin, and one
of schnapps. The adorned skull of Magau was placed on a mat in the middle
of the assembly. The father and brother prepared food for the other
_mariget_, and put food in front of the skull; the _mariget_ also made
food ready for the father and brother of the deceased, and placed it
likewise before the skull. Then “all got d—d drunk all night; if woman
sleep, wake him up, no make row.”
Before the feasting commenced the skull was handed over to the father; at
night-time it was covered over with a mat, and later on the family slept
around it in memory of old times. After three nights the father kept the
skull in its basket close by his pillow.
Magau’s skull was sold to me by Aiwŏli, and another foster-brother, for
one tomahawk and three fathoms of calico print. It is now in the Christy
Collection at the British Museum.
It does not sound to us a very cheerful custom for people to keep the
skulls of their friends, but it must be remembered that they could not
make pictures of their dead friends and relations, and, since they loved
them as we love ours, they liked to have something to remember them by.
In the Murray Islands and Darnley they even modelled the whole face in
black wax so as to represent their dead friend still more closely. I have
previously stated how pleased the natives were to see photographs I took
ten years ago of their friends and relatives who had since died, and both
at Murray Island and Mabuiag we had to photograph a dead baby, as the
father wanted a likeness as a memento.
Whenever they were in trouble they used to take the skull of a relative,
put fresh paint on it, and cover it with scented leaves, then they would
speak to it and ask advice from it. When they went to bed they would put
the skull on their sleeping-mat beside their heads, and if they dreamt
they thought it was the spirit of their dead friend talking to them and
advising them what they should do. As they believed all this, it was by
no means strange that they liked to keep and preserve the skulls of their
dead relatives. This is a very different matter from collecting the heads
of dead enemies, which was very common in many parts of New Guinea and
was also done in Torres Straits.
In the early part of November, 1888, a few natives from Nagir and
Muralug, then resident on Thursday Island, got up a dance to inaugurate
the approach of the rainy season, or, as it is usually termed, the
“nor’-west.” Night after night they practised their chant, and in the
daytime they manufactured their masks. These were all of the same
pattern, and consisted of a lower portion in the form of the usual
conventional crocodile’s head, surmounted by a human face surrounded by
a sort of frill of tortoise-shell fretwork; below was a fringe of frayed
leaves. This portion entirely covered the head of the wearer, the mask
being held solely by the teeth, which gripped a stick extending across
the central cavity. Above the face was a representation of a sawfish
five feet in length. Towering above its centre was a long, narrow,
erect triangle covered with turkey-red and flanked with white feathers.
Feathers from five different kinds of birds, from a bird of paradise to
a pigeon, adorned this remarkable structure, which attained to a height
of 4 feet 6 inches. The masks were painted with red, white, black,
and a little blue pigment. In olden times such masks would be made of
tortoise-shell; these were constructed out of pieces of old packing-cases
and kerosene tins.
The dancing-ground was in front of a small screen (_waus_), behind which
the performers retired in rotation for rest and refreshment. The first
dance began on Saturday afternoon, and was continued nightly till the
following Thursday. The date of the ceremony was fixed by the rising of
a particular star. There was a great sameness in the dancing, which was
practically confined to one man appearing on each side from behind the
screen; the pair advanced forward with a sedately capering step, crossed
to the opposite side of the dancing-ground, and ultimately retired to
the end of the screen: then they crouched down and slowly waved their
grotesquely masked heads from side to side. As soon as the chant was
finished they disappeared behind the screen, when their places were taken
by two other performers. A free translation of the sawfish chant is as
follows:—
1. Now I can see my reflection in the pools on the reef.
2. You cut the shoot of the coconut palm for me.
3. Farewell, dead coconut palm leaves. Ho! there’s the lightning.
4. Fish now approach the shore, and we must build fish-weirs in
their route.
The following notes may serve to explain the allusions. The first
line refers to the glassy surface of the sea during the calms of the
“nor’-west.” At this season vegetation becomes rampant, the dead leaves
falling off at the end of the dry south-east monsoon. The sprouting leaf
of the coconut palm is split into long narrow bands, of which frontlets,
crossed shoulder-belts, and anklets are made; these are worn in the
dances. The dance petticoats of the men are also made from these blanched
leaves: so this is equivalent to saying that preparations for dances must
now be made. Sheet lightning at night is a very characteristic feature of
the rainy season, and it occurs only then. Sometimes the lightning is so
frequent that there is a continuous glare in the north-west, recalling
certain manifestations of the Northern Lights of higher latitudes. This
is also the season when shoals of fish approach the shore. These are
entrapped at some islands by means of large areas on the flat fringing
reefs being inclosed by low walls which are about two feet or so in
height, and are composed of loose stones. The fish come inshore with the
high night tides, and, as the water recedes, are caught within the weirs.
There can be no doubt that this dance was not got up for amusement, but
was a serious ceremony. As there was no invocation to or recognition
of a spiritual being of any kind, this act cannot be strictly called
“religious,” but it was designed to directly influence the fish in the
sea. It was thus a magical ceremony to ensure a good fishing season.
We brought Maino on with us from Yam to Thursday Island, so as to get
further information from him in our spare time, and we “worked” him as
much as possible; but the seductions of Thursday Island were too great
for him to withstand, as they also prove to so many other men of varied
nationalities. This was a great disappointment, as we had hoped during
these last few days in the Straits to clear up some doubtful points,
with the help of further information from Maino, but we were not able to
do much, owing to the false kindness of his self-styled “friends.”
Ray, however, got hold of a Prince of Wales Islander named “Wallaby”; he
was a native policeman, and we obtained some interesting information from
him. There was, unfortunately, no old man handy as a referee, for many
things that interest us are known fully only to the older men.
We again saw something of our friends of the Sacred Heart Mission, as
Archbishop Navarre and Father Cochard were here from Yule Island; apart
from these no one in Thursday Island knows or cares anything about native
customs.
[Illustration: FIG. 23. ROCK PICTOGRAPHS IN KIRIRI]
One afternoon we sailed to the neighbouring island of Kiriri (Hammond
Island) to examine some rock paintings. These proved to be of a very
simple character, representing totems (hammer-headed shark, turtle,
dugong, and so on). Two canoes were also represented; these were supposed
to illustrate the canoes in which the spirits paddle about on calm nights
when they want to catch turtle, dugong, or fish. Among the crevices of
the boulders in the vicinity of these paintings several skulls and bones
have been found. We brought away two skulls that were found beneath the
painted rocks, and we found another close by. This was our last little
pilgrimage to old sacred spots in the islands.
MURALUG
Towards the end of 1888 I paid a short visit to Muralug, commonly known
as Prince of Wales Island. This is the largest island in Torres Straits,
and it lies only a short distance from Cape York. I climbed one of the
hills on the northern coast of the island, and obtained a good view of
the country. Inland there were numerous timber-covered hills; towards
the shore the hills came down close to the sea, and were interspersed
with flat, low-lying mangrove swamps.
As dusk fell I strolled to the village, and found a family party seated
on mats by the fire in an inclosure at the back of the chief’s house; the
inclosure served the double purpose of a wind-screen, and a fence to keep
out obtrusive pigs. By the fire sat Serb, Tuigana’s wife, while Tuigana
(the chief) was playing cards with his three little nephews. In the
background were Georgie and Pattie; they had not long been married, and
they were quietly enjoying themselves in a way akin to that which is not
unusual among newly married people at home. I joined the family party,
and, lying on a mat, watched the group with interest. The card players
were playing what was said to be a Malay game called “Jaro,” and it was
amusing to hear English names and phrases mixed with native language.
Thus, in the midst of a chatter of words I could not understand, would
come, “I have six tricks.” “What are trumps?” “Spades.” “That card will
kill him.” And so on. From time to time Serb replenished the bamboo pipe
for her husband, and passed it to him for a “smoke.” Altogether this was
a pleasant little glimpse of real family life; the smoke of the wood fire
was very pungent, however, and made my eyes smart, so that I soon left
the happy group.
The day following I was entertained with a war-dance, a most interesting
rehearsal of a dance which forty years ago would have commemorated some
deed of valour or treachery. I gathered that such dances were never
indulged in for mere amusement, and were quite distinct from what may be
termed the festive dance.
It was evening, on a sandy shore. A gloomy mangrove swamp extended away
to the right; to the left stretched a bay edged with a beach of white
coral sand, against which the waves gently lapped. In the foreground were
three fires. Near one was a native house of flimsy construction open to
the wind, in which were the women and some children. The view behind was
blocked by trees on rising ground; above was a clear blue sky studded
with sparkling stars; and the moon, being in her second quarter, shed a
soft silvery light on all.
Near a fire sat the primitive orchestra. The drums were beaten in a
rhythmical monotone, and a wailing chant accompanied them. Gradually
from the far distance swarthy forms came, as it were, into focus, and
marched along in twos or threes; then, in sinuous course, they performed
their evolutions, varying the celerity of their movements to the time of
the weird singing. A mass of dried herbage thrown on a fire lighted up
the scene and revealed a glowing picture of savagery.
The blackness of the dancers’ nether parts was intensified artificially.
The upper portion of their body was smeared with red ochre; the
frontlets, crossed shoulder-belts, and anklets of pale yellow leaves
gleamed brightly. The round shell ornaments stood out with opaque
whiteness against the ruddled chests, while the pearly crescentic
breastplates shone with a softer lustre. The loin-cloths and bits of red
calico on the armlets or in the hair gave further colour; bunches of
leaves inserted in the armlets, at the shoulders, appeared as verdant
epaulettes; other bunches were inserted in a belt behind, the green
showing up in vivid hue by the camp fires. The bizarre effect was
enhanced by black cassowary plumes projecting from the gauntlet on the
left arm, or stuck tailwise into the belt at the back.
The yellow frontlet or chaplet was either a simple band or looped, or was
prolonged into two streamers; again, white feathers were occasionally
inserted into the black, frizzly hair, or a fine effect was produced by a
coronet of cassowary feathers.
This dance illustrated the “war-path,” the band of pretended warriors
sometimes marching, more often skipping or stealthily stealing along,
suddenly coming upon the foe with a “_Wahu!_” Then they skipped two or
three times, usually raising the right leg, brandishing their weapons at
the same time. Again and again the dread “_Wahu!_” resounded. This really
effective manœuvre showed to yet greater advantage when, instead of being
in rank, the men deployed in a semicircle facing the flaring fires, then,
with their glittering eyes and gleaming teeth, and the waving of bows,
arrows, and stone clubs, one realised how terrible to the lonely and
surprised enemy must have been the “_Wahu!_” of such a foe.
The series of war-dances concluded with an evolution in lively measure,
evidently indicative of military success, as, with exultant cries, the
performers swayed their right hands. The dire significance of this last
movement was not difficult to discover. It represented what formerly
occurred after a successful foray, for, after beheading the slain with
their bamboo knives, the victorious warriors threaded the heads on the
ratan slings which always hung on their backs when they went on the
war-path, and as they returned joyously home they swung their ghastly
burdens backward and forward with jubilant cries.
This dance finished, the old men begged off. They had walked thirteen
miles that day to dance to me, and now they were tired and left further
dancing to the younger men, who forthwith disappeared into the bush.
In due time they re-emerged, and treated us to an ordinary secular or
festive dance or “_kap_.” The dance, like all semi-realistic dances, is
composed of “figures,” which are, in fact, so many separate dances.
I gather that there is no set order for them. There is certainly
considerable variety in the “movements,” but, so far as my experience
goes, one special “figure” always terminates the proceedings.
In one “movement” the whole company circles round and round, two deep,
with all sorts of gestures. They might even be termed “antics”—cringing,
swaying, leaping, tripping. It is noteworthy that the circling may be
from left to right or from right to left. Thus there is no reminiscence
of sun worship or other symbolism in their gyrations.
In the processions round the platform of turtle trophies, the men of
Mabuiag, I was informed, marched invariably sun-wise, with whirling
bull-roarers. Should one inadvertently march in the counter-direction the
turtle would swim away from the island.
In one dance a man advanced singly and danced with stamping feet,
illustrating the putting out of a fire; in another the men continually
stood on one leg and rapidly moved the other up and down, or, it may be,
jumped with both legs.
In the “crab dance” a man danced in a crouching attitude, with the
upper-arms horizontal and the fore-arms vertical; the “iguana dance”
represented the large local lizard (Varanus) whilst swimming. Some of
the “figures” illustrated an action in real life, such as agricultural,
nautical, or fishing employments; for example, a man would crouch
and move his hands about as if he were planting yams or seeking for
pearl-shell at the bottom of the sea.
The “pelican dance” concluded the evening’s entertainment. The general
body of the dancers stood together in the background, and from among
these two men (or occasionally a single man) stepped forward and danced
on the tips of their toes on the same spot. As the drum-beats became more
rapid the jumping was accelerated, their legs keeping time, till with
the quickened music their feet became almost invisible from the rapidity
of their movements, and they seemed as if boring a hole in the ground,
whilst the dust rose in clouds about them.
Naturally this could not last long; and when fatigued the pair retired,
their places being taken by another two, till all had displayed their
terpsichorean skill; and indeed it was a splendid exhibition of activity
and _verve_. The spirit of emulation is largely evoked in this figure,
and the onlookers admire and applaud the most vigorous and staying dancer
of this particularly fatiguing step.
Not many years ago these islanders had a most unenviable reputation for
ferocity, exhibiting a fierce determination to murder the encroaching
white man. Now they will walk thirteen miles to dance for the amusement
of an Englishman they have never seen, scenting tobacco and other largess
from afar!
While the black man was dancing his _kap_ in literal war-paint and
decorated with shells and feathers, a channel only a mile in width
separated him from a party of white ladies and gentlemen dancing together
in civilised dance garb. Little thought the latter that the despised
“nigger” would consider it indelicate for men and women to dance with one
another, especially so closely together as the custom of modern “fast”
dances permits, or that the figures of their square dances were relics of
such realistic dances as were in actual force across the narrow channel.