A STORMY TRIP.
A Christmas under a burning tropical sun, such as I spent in 1887,
seems unnatural. What a contrast to a Christmas in England!
"Outside fall the snowflakes lightly,
Through the night loud raves the storm,
In my room the fire glows brightly,
And 'tis cosy, silent, warm.
"Musing sit I on the settle,
By the firelight's cheerful blaze,
Listening to the busy kettle
Humming long-forgotten lays."
In New Guinea you eat your Christmas dinner in the open air, with the
thermometer at over 100 deg. in the shade. All nature seems weighed down by
the oppressive atmosphere. One feels too enervated for any exertion,
beyond imbibing cool drinks or smoking a cigar in a cane lounge.
About this time a fleet of pearl-shelling boats had come to New Guinea
from Torres Strait, and were working in the Louisiade Archipelago. The
water was rather too deep for them, as they had been accustomed to
eight to ten fathoms. One or two of their divers were paralysed, and
the whole of their fleet in a few months left for their old quarters,
evidently having had enough of New Guinea waters. Not long after their
departure one or two good patches of pearl-shell were found, which the
New Guinea pearl divers took advantage of. It was fortunate for them,
the Torres Strait fleet had already left the scene.
Just before Christmas Day, some of the Torres Strait boats had anchored
in China Straits, remaining until after Christmas, so that we had a
good muster of white men.
We held our Christmas festivities on the Island of Samarai. The dinner
was tastefully laid out on rudely-constructed tables, set in the open
air, under the canopy of Heaven. The tables were decorated with
beautiful bouquets of wild flowers.
The bill of fare was exhaustive of the delicacies procurable, and was
as follows:
Soup--Real Turtle.
Fish--Kingfish.
Joints--Roast Lamb & Peas (Kid).
Joints--Roast Pork.
Joints--Cold Corned Beef.
Entrees--Turtle & Scalloped Oysters.
Sweets--Omelette, Fruit Pie.
Vegetables--Yams, Taro, Spinach.
Cheese.
Dessert--Bananas, Pineapples, Mangots, Paw-paws, Coco-nuts, Oranges,
etc.
Wine & Spirits--Lager Beer, Whisky, Sherry, Port.
We had quite a representative gathering, consisting of captains, mates,
traders, fishermen and divers--fifteen in all.
Several New Guinea natives, clad in their native garments, waited at
table, and first-class waiters they are. Captain Runcie, of the S.S.
_Gympie_, an old _habitue_ of New Guinea, took the chair. Runcie
Creek in the Island of St. Aignan was discovered by him.
After justice had been done to the different viands, speeches were
made, some of unique character. Songs were then called for, and woe
betide him who refused to sing. All the different nationalities were
represented. We had Greek, English, Russian, Scotch, German, and New
Guinea songs. The excitement was kept up until the small hours of the
morning. Some of the feasters had some difficulty in the morning in
finding their respective vessels. I must not forget to mention that we
had a Chinese song by one "Ah Gim," a worthy member of that race, and a
most respectable man. He has been engaged in the Beche-de-mer
fisheries, New Guinea, for the past ten years, and has had several
hair-breadth escapes. I am not a lover of the Chinese race, but I must
make an exception in favour of "Ah Gim." He is a first-rate fellow. I
have known him for several years, and can testify to his upright and
straightforward character. His headquarters are at Su-au (South Cape).
At the end of January, 1888, I started in a small lugger, intending to
go first to the Island of Wari (Teste), and then to Kitai (Basilaki
Islands). I had four New Guinea natives and one South Sea Islander on
board. The breeze was light, and before we got clear of the Eastern
Passage it entirely died away. We were bemoaning our fate, when a light
air sprang up, and I was congratulating myself on the prospect of
reaching Wari (35 miles distant) that evening, when the wind, which was
blowing from the south, increased to a gale. Our dinghy was being towed
astern, and in our haste to get it on board, and from the force of the
wind, the tow-rope somehow or other got adrift, and away went the
dinghy, which was soon lost to sight. Our little craft was headed for
Wari, but owing to the strength of the gale she was unable to face it,
so we had to run before the wind under the jib only, steering our
course for Kitai. After tearing along for several hours at racing
speed, we dropped anchor off Kitai a little before dark, the wind still
howling like an enraged beast. We soon turned into our bunks, glad to
be safely secured from the tempest.
"Basilaki" is a large island about 15 miles from the main coast. The
natives living on it are a bad lot. They have committed many murders
both of natives and white men, and are the terror of the adjoining
islands. In the morning a number of large canoes came alongside of us
with a quantity of bags of copra, which I took on board. At noon, the
sun shining fiercely, I determined to go on shore, so jumping into one
of their big canoes, and taking my Winchester rifle, loaded with 13
rounds, and with a few spare cartridges in my pocket for I knew the
treacherous nature of the natives in this part, I was duly landed on
the beach.
A crowd of natives soon gathered round me, evidently taking a keen
interest in my appearance. I was alone. I went a short distance into
the bush, keeping a firm hold of my rifle. I then sat down and
distributed a few small pieces of tobacco to the assembled multitude.
Not liking the look of the people, and wishing to avoid an encounter, I
thought it prudent to return to my little vessel. I jumped into one of
their canoes and was soon on board, telling them at the same time that
I purposed returning in a month or two, when I hoped they would have
plenty of copra for me. The next day, the wind still blowing furiously,
I decided to remain at anchor. I was successful in obtaining a few more
bags of copra, and on the following morning left en route for Wari. The
wind was blowing fresh from the south-east, and after a long beat
through the lagoon, where we had anchored, to the open sea, we found
the wind coming direct from Wari and dead in our teeth.
Had I been a native of New Guinea I should have accounted for the
unfortunate circumstance by the interference of some evil spirit who
had purposely and with malicious intent caused an unfavourable wind.
Not, however, believing that I was the plaything of devils, I
determined to make an effort by way of a dead beat to windward. The
boat would not sail close to the wind. The tides here are terribly
strong, running at the rate of five to six knots an hour. So that
whatever progress we made in six hours we lost in the next six.
However it is a long lane that has no turning, so, after beating about
for three days, a distance of only 20 miles, we made the north-west
passage of the island.
Our troubles were by no means at an end. The night was pitch dark, so
we were obliged to stand off and on until the rising of the moon, which
did not appear until nearly midnight. It then shone brightly, and the
island of Wari, a few hundred yards distant, stood out in bold relief,
with Bell Rock on our right, so called from its likeness to a bell. It
is a perpendicular rock, several hundred feet high, most precipitous,
bare of cultivation, with the sea ceaselessly dashing against its
serried side. The passage between Bell Rock and the island is a very
narrow and intricate one, and most dangerous to navigate.
There is a large coral reef on either side, also several sunken rocks.
I placed one of the natives, a boy belonging to Wari, who knew the
locality, in the bows of the boat to act as pilot, and keep a sharp
look-out. With the silvery moon lighting up our path, and a strong
breeze from the south-east, we made the attempt, anxiously peering over
the side with the unpleasant expectation of striking on a reef.
Presently the boy who was keeping a look-out forward sang out, "'Bout
ship," the helm was put hard down, and the next moment we were on the
reef.
Oars were at once got out, but it was of no avail. Our vessel would not
budge an inch. I sent a couple of natives to the island. They had to
cross the reef, and by dint of swimming and wading reached the beach.
Numerous fires were blazing in the distance surrounded by numbers of
the islanders. The boys were instructed to bring as many natives as
they could muster, as I hoped by our united efforts we should be
enabled to get the vessel off. About a dozen natives appeared on the
scene, who evidently did not relish turning out at such an unearthly
hour. We all worked with a will, and after a number of spasmodic
efforts we got clear of the reef, only to get on another one a few
minutes later. I suspended the certificate of the pilot for the next 12
months, and I am afraid to write the language which, on the occasion,
seemed to me appropriate. There was nothing else for it but to drop the
anchor on the reef and wait patiently until the morning. The sun rose
in full splendour, showing us distinctly our unfortunate position. Here
we were, within a mile or so of our anchorage, imprisoned between the
reefs like a rat in a trap.
The wind had by this time increased, and the sea had got up. Our little
craft was in considerable danger, as with a heavy wind and her sides
beating against the hard coral, she stood a very good chance of
breaking up, or having a hole knocked in her bottom. The wind blowing
straight in our teeth, I determined to get the anchor on board, crowd
all canvas, turn tail, and run, trusting by this means to get free of
the reef.
I could then go to leeward of the island, and rounding the north-east
end, pick up my anchorage in the passage which is on the south east or
weather side.
This was a roundabout way, but the only possible one. The anchorage is
sheltered by a large coral reef which extends a long distance to
windward.
Our anchor was safely stowed on board, all the sails set (a strong
south-easter blowing astern), and the vessel gave a heave and got clear
of the reef.
The start was made. No sooner, however, had we got away, and in deep
water, than crack went the mainsail, blown into a thousand ribbons.
Luckily we had a spare mainsail on board, belonging to another boat. We
managed to set it in a fashion, and after many difficulties,
circumnavigated the island and came to an anchorage on the other side
just abreast of the Mission House, tired out with our unfortunate
journey.
"Wari," or Teste Island, is situated about 35 miles to the south-east
of Milne Bay, and as the trade wind blows from that quarter, it means a
dead beat all the way.
The island is from two to three miles long by half a mile broad. It is
most fertile, and from its position very healthy.
There are numerous plantations of yams and bananas; also orange and
lemon groves. There is unfortunately a scarcity of good water. A ridge
of hills runs right through its centre from E.N.E. to W.S.W. There are
three villages close together, having a population of about 400. The
natives here are most intelligent, and make capital sailors.
One of them, by name "Dim-Dim," can sail a cutter as well as any white
man, and what is still better, can be thoroughly trusted. The word
"Dim-Dim" means "a white man," and as the native in question has all
the good qualities of one he was so christened.
At the time of my visit to Wari I was the only white man on the island.
The day after I landed I had an attack of fever, and what with sickness
and the gale still holding, I had perforce to remain here for a week.
All the natives are passionately fond of chewing the betel-nut; they
take with it lime, which they make by burning coral and then crushing
it into a fine powder. It is carried in boxes made of coco-nut and
beautifully carved. They also eat with it a leaf which is rather
peppery but pleasant to the taste. The betel-nut grows luxuriantly in
some districts, whilst in others there is none. Of course the constant
chewing of it blackens the teeth, but that is fashionable and
considered no blemish.
I visited the natives in their several villages, and was in every
instance treated with the greatest hospitality.
Upon entering their houses a clean "dam" or mat was placed on the floor
for me, betel-nut was brought which I had, _nolens volens_, to chew,
though I must confess I do not relish the operation, and lastly the
"bau-bau," a family pipe, was produced, at which I was supposed to take
a draw or two, not forgetting to supply the ammunition for it from my
stock of tobacco.
It is best to fall in with their ways as far as practicable, and by
your acts to show them that you appreciate their demonstration of
hospitality. It is in this way that you are able to gain their
friendship and confidence.
Most of the natives living on the coast have acquired the habit of
smoking, and very soon become inveterate at it. They would sell their
souls for tobacco.
There are islands to the north of the mainland where tobacco is
entirely unknown, but before many years are over it will reach them
also.
The women are not heavy smokers, and are never to be seen with a clay
pipe in their mouths. They prefer smoking the "bau-bau," a family pipe
made of bamboo. It is a hollow piece of wood, three or four feet long,
circular, with a big hole at one end and a small hole at the other. The
tobacco is rolled in a pan-danus leaf in the form of a cigarette,
placed in the small hole and lighted, the smoke is then blown into the
pipe and the tobacco removed. The first smoker, holding the pipe in
both hands, takes two draws and passes it on to the next. The tobacco
must then be inserted again and the process repeated.
When smoking the "bau-bau" they seat themselves in a circle. The pipe
is always artistically carved, and is a great favourite with the women.
Having lost our only dinghy, I purchased from the natives a canoe with
an outrigger attached, capable of holding two persons. I had to pay one
American hatchet for it. It came in very handy, as without it I should
have been dependent on the natives for going ashore.
Some of their canoes here are very large, carrying a big mat sail made
from the palm-tree, the seams well caulked and tarred. It is surprising
how quickly they can travel, and how close to the wind they can go.
They go out with them in all sorts of weather, and it is very seldom
they get upset. The leading man in the canoe sits in the stern sheets
and acts as helmsman.
He also gives the word of command. When it is time to make sail, he
sings out in a loud voice, "Wai-wai, Wai-wai," and when the great sail
has been hoisted to the peak, he calls out, "Besi" (that will do), the
halyards and sheets are belayed, the sail is canted over, and away she
scuds before the breeze.
The prows of their canoes are decorated with numbers of the white
egg-shaped cowrie shell, and, like our own vessels, each canoe has a
particular name.
The natives trade a good deal amongst themselves, in some instances
taking sago in their large canoes a distance of 300 miles, bringing
back in exchange yams, betel-nut, etc.
Having obtained several bags of Beche-de-mer and copra, and stowed them
safely on board, I took advantage of a light favourable wind and left
for Samarai (China Straits).
After an uneventful passage of 18 hours I dropped the anchor a little
after midnight.