RETURN VOYAGE.
The south-east "trades" were still blowing, and seeing no chance of
their abatement, we regretfully left the shores of Ralume Bay.
In St. George's Channel we met with constant baffling winds, which
greatly retarded our progress. On some days we made no more than a
mile, the strong currents causing us to make considerable leeway.
We sailed close in to the shores of New Britain and back again to New
Ireland, and so it continued day after day. We thought we should never
lose sight of the Duke of York Islands, and had half a mind to run back
to Ralume. The days were scorchingly hot, the decks not fit to stand
upon. We were obliged every few minutes to throw buckets of water on
them to enable us to move about, and to prevent the seams from opening.
It was anything but a pleasure having to steer for four hours beneath
such a sun. Down below in the little cabin it was just as bad, more
stifling, if possible. How we longed for night to cool our fevered
brows!
Not far from here, on the north-east coast of New Ireland, poor Charlie
Hunstein met his fate. I met him on several occasions. Not long since,
in 1889, he, with some others, journeyed from Finsch-hafen to New
Ireland on a botanical expedition. He arrived there safely, but in a
day or two a terrible earthquake took place, swallowing up the
unfortunate Hunstein and his followers. What a terrible destiny, to
perish in such a catastrophe without the chance of a struggle for life!
I saw the captain of one of the German New Guinea Company's steamers.
He told me he was in the habit of steaming past the spot on his way
from Finsch-hafen to the Bismarck Archipelago. Just after the disaster
he was taking the accustomed route when, to his astonishment, the usual
landmarks were nowhere to be seen. He therefore worked out his
position, and discovered that there must have been some fearful agency
at work to alter the configuration of the land in such a manner. The
whole geography of the neighbourhood had been completely transformed. A
vast expanse of land had been converted into water.
The suddenness with which such calamities occur is astonishing.
To-day everything wears its wonted appearance, but who knows what
to-morrow may bring forth? what changes may take place in Nature?
To-day a man is in robust health, proud of his strength. To-morrow all
this has vanished, and the living man has become an inanimate mass.
Our progress continued slow, until at last we sighted Cape St. George,
the southern extremity of New Ireland. The locality has an historic
interest.
Ten years ago, in the latter part of the year 1880, the ill-fated
expedition organised by the notorious Marquis de Ray landed in the
vicinity. The Marquis de Ray was a French nobleman living in Paris. He
formed a gigantic scheme for colonizing New Ireland, intending, as he
stated, to create there a New France. He caused grand plans to be
executed, showing the different lots or farms for sale--smiling farms,
with paddocks of grass, ready for occupation, and whole families of
French farmers and peasantry sold up what property they possessed, and
cheerfully paid their money deposits in Paris, thinking they were going
to a land full of promise, where they would settle on their
newly-acquired lands with their families and grow prosperous. Poor
deluded creatures! Little did they dream of the fate in store for them.
Little did they know the state of the country to which they were bound,
and that they were hurrying from the frying-pan into the fire. It is
astounding with what ease people are gulled by the plausible
representations of an adventurous schemer.
Two large vessels, the S.S. _India_, and S.S. _Genie_, were fitted
out for the expedition, each of them carrying about 300 emigrants. What
a country to attempt to colonize! The Marquis had evidently picked out
the most inhospitable place on the map. A wild, mountainous country,
a deadly climate, and populated by dense numbers of ferocious and
bloodthirsty savages! Not a white man on the island. And it was to
make their living in such a land that these people had broken up their
homes, converted all their possessions into money in order to buy
farms there, and farming implements, such as ploughs, harrows, etc.,
with which to cultivate them. What did the Marquis care if they were
all ruined, so long as he had the amount of their deposits safely in
his pockets?
After many privations on the voyage, owing to the scarcity of
provisions, they were landed in New Ireland in August. Great was their
astonishment on beholding the country of their adoption, and great was
their indignation against the cunning Marquis de Ray, who had so
cruelly deceived them.
Many sickened and died, others were starved.
They implored to be taken away from the polluted spot, and to be landed
in Australia. Some were removed to an island called Liki-Liki, where
many of them died, and upon their fate becoming known, the remainder,
broken in health and destitute of money, were landed at Noumea, New
Caledonia.
There the storekeepers and traders generously supplied them with food,
but found it impossible to get them employment. A steamer was sent by
the Government to bring them on to Sydney, where they were placed in
the immigration depot until such time as they found employment.
The unhappy immigrants could not speak a word of English, but after a
time they were drafted off up country, where they were employed as farm
labourers.
What had become of the miscreant who had caused all this ruin and
misery?
He was in France, living on the proceeds of his ill-gotten gains. Upon
the true state of affairs leaking out, the Marquis de Ray was arrested,
tried before the Tribunal in Paris, and sentenced to several years'
imprisonment. Well for him that he escaped being hanged. This should be
a warning to would-be emigrants to learn some particulars of the
country in which they intend to settle, before embarking on the voyage.
Let us hope that we shall never again have to record so ill-starred an
expedition as the one launched by the French marquis.
Once clear of St. George's Channel, we seemed to lose the strong
currents, and consequently made better way.
Returning was a very different matter from coming from New Guinea. We
had now been four days at sea, and during the whole of that time had
been beating about in the channel. We had still a long distance to
travel, and from all appearances it would be several days before we
reached our destination. It was of no use crying out against our luck.
Head winds were the order of the day, so we consoled ourselves with the
thought that the same winds had been favourable to us not long before.
We amused ourselves by conversing with our two native companions and
perfecting ourselves in their language.
In the evening, after supper, the dwarf graciously entertained us,
telling us all about his people and their ways, and singing New Guinea
carols.
He had a pleasant voice and kept good time.
Many of his songs were improvised on the spot, and he often introduced
our names into them.
It is marvellous the power with which the natives of New Guinea compose
verses.
He had a curious custom.
Having filled his bau-bau (pipe) with tobacco, and lighted it ready for
use, he invariably made an incantation, something after the style of
grace before meat. This was his way of offering thanks either to us or
the "gods," for the plentiful supply of tobacco.
We were six days out of sight of land, and when in mid-ocean, I turned
to the dwarf and asked him in which direction lay his home, the island
of "Egum." Without hesitation he correctly pointed out the quarter,
although, at the time, our vessel was several points out of her direct
course. The bump of locality is highly developed in them.
As with certain animals, this instinct with natives is very strong. We
had been absent from "Egum" three weeks, so our little friend was
getting a bit home-sick and anxious to rejoin his family.
One day we were travelling at a speed of five knots an hour, when,
following in our wake, we descried a huge shark. He followed us for
some time in a most determined manner, hoping no doubt to receive some
of the contents of our cooking pot. We did not disturb him at once, as
we were interested in watching his two little satellites. He was
accompanied by two inseparable companions, known as "pilot fish." They
were less than a foot long, and beautifully marked by tiny,
light-coloured spots. They swam just over him, always keeping in the
one position. They were evidently his firm friends. I had often heard
of these strange little fishes, but this was the first time I had seen
them in attendance upon his "sharkship."
As I gazed, I could not help wondering what office they performed, and
for what reason the shark had chosen them for his companions.
What bond could there exist between two such totally distinct species
of fish? the one strong, powerful and noted for its voracity, the other
for its diminutiveness, beauty of form and weakness? Maybe, the pilot
fish in some mysterious way gives warning of danger to the shark. I
know not. It must be of some service to him, otherwise he would not
fraternize with the little creature.
In the river Nile, where crocodiles abound, it is said a tiny bird[3]
takes up its abode in the mouth of the crocodile, and acts as his
friend. At any rate the crocodile recognizes the friendship by never
attempting to molest its winged companion.
[3] "Trochilus." For fuller account, see Herodotus, Vol. I., Bk.
2, Chapter 68.
Truly the works of Nature are wonderful and full of mystery!
Although we respected the pilot fish and had no feelings of hatred
against them, the shark was sentenced to death. One of us got a
Winchester rifle, and at the first shot riddled the head of the
monster, his two little comrades escaping unhurt. The shark, without a
struggle, soon turned belly upwards, and before we could reach him,
sank beneath the waves. What became of his little friends it is
impossible to say, for we saw them no more.
I wonder if they lamented the death of their late lord, or whether they
sought comfort in the reflection that for every dead shark there were
hundreds of living ones.
The day being very hot, I was in the act of lowering a couple of
buckets over the side to get a supply of salt water to cool the decks
with, when somehow or other the rope attached to them slipped out of my
hand, and down went the buckets to the bottom of the ocean. This was
most annoying, as we were now reduced to one bucket.
Sailing in mid-ocean, and having no coast to steer by, we "took the
sun" at noon each day, in order to determine our position and keep our
course or alter it accordingly.
By our calculations we should soon sight North Island, as we had now
been five days out at sea.
We had no chronometer on board, so we could not be certain of our exact
position.
On the evening of the eighth day out from Ralume, New Britain, we found
ourselves ten miles to leeward of North Island. We rectified our course
and, travelling night and day, beat our way between a perfect nest of
islands, at times heaving to in order to trade with the natives who
came alongside in their canoes.
Without meeting with any misadventure, we reached the anchorage at
"Egum," on Wednesday evening, having been ten weary days on the voyage.
Long before we had arrived at the anchorage, the rocks near the beach
were covered with the naked forms of our friends. Our cutter had
already been recognized, and its name was being shouted from one native
to the other.
To their delight we had returned in safety from our perilous voyage,
for did we not carry two distinguished members of their race on board,
namely "Tokaiakus" and "Sindiwaia"?
There was much shaking of hands, and they appeared anxious to hear of
the lands we had visited and the sights that we had seen.
We landed our dwarf and his young friend in the bosom of their
families, and I can safely aver they kept the natives of the island
alive for many weeks with the account of their travels and adventures
and the wonderful sights they had seen.
We spent two or three days here in order to refit.
We commissioned the natives to get us a turtle, promising to give them
15 sticks of trade tobacco for it.
They started off in one of their big canoes for a small island about
seven miles away.
They stayed on the island all night, but were unsuccessful. Being
anxious to earn the tobacco, and knowing that "no turtle no tobacco,"
was our motto, they remained another night, and succeeded in capturing
a huge turtle weighing close on four cwt.
Their plan is to choose a clear night. They then lie in wait near the
beach; the turtle leaves the sea for a moonlight walk, when the
natives, armed with big sticks, rush upon it and turn it over on its
back, in which position it is helpless. They have a cruel practice of
burning the shell off the turtle when alive. We were much annoyed with
them at this, but it was too late to expostulate, as we had not been
witness to the practice. The turtle, which was a "green one," was
placed on its back in the canoe and eventually brought to us minus the
shell.
We felt much inclined not to buy it, but fresh meat is not to be
despised.
When you have lived on tinned meats for some months, it is only natural
that you should desire a change. In a turtle there is truly fish, flesh
and fowl.
I don't know whether any of my readers have ever tasted a fresh turtle
steak or not, but if they have not, my advice to them is _do_ so at the
first opportunity, for it is delicious, and superior even to the
acknowledged rump steak.
We intended to keep the turtle alive until we reached China Straits, so
as to dine off it on Christmas day. A turtle will keep alive in a boat
without anything to eat for several weeks. It is only necessary to
occasionally dash a bucket of salt water over its head to keep it cool.
Owing to its weight we had some difficulty in hauling it on board. We
then lowered it into the hold, where we placed some wet cloths under
its head.
It had to remain on its back for the next week and then its career in
this world would be over.
How it did sigh to be sure! It seemed to have an inkling of its
impending fate.
During the time we were awaiting the arrival of the turtle, we painted
the vessel. We painted the bottom boards a chocolate-brown and the rest
a dark green. All the masts and spars were scraped and oiled; the cabin
painted inside and out.
Everything was put in proper trim, and when finished she would have
done credit to the Thames Yacht Club.
She looked a perfect picture, with her raking topmast and the little
10-foot dinghy, painted a dark brown, towing astern. No one would have
believed that she was engaged in the Beche-de-mer fishery, but then you
see we took a pride in keeping her clean and trim. We had never been
accustomed, like some, to wallow in dirt.
Cleanliness is just as cheap as dirt, and much healthier.
The next day I was introduced to the native princess already mentioned
in a previous chapter. She had on a lovely chaplet of wild flowers. For
the rest her dress was plain and simple. As is customary with the Court
ladies of these parts, she wore a low dress, even in the daytime. She
was decidedly good-looking, and had courtly manners. We also saw her
father. He was one of the best specimens of New Guinea natives. He had
a frank, open countenance, and never condescended to pester us for
tobacco. What was the result? Why, we willingly gave him some, as he
offered a pleasing contrast to most of our acquaintances.
What a variety there is in the human race!
In native communities, as in European, individuals differ widely. Some
are naturally of a vindictive character, cruel, sordid and selfish,
their evil traits clearly defined in their countenances, whilst others
are naturally open, frank, generous and unselfish, their good traits
reflected in the mirror of their faces.
Having said good-bye to our two native companions and their friends, we
weighed anchor and, sailing once more for China Straits, arrived off
Samarai on Christmas Eve, feeling all the better for our expedition.