It has been said that the natives of the innumerable islands of the
South Seas are fond of war.
All travellers to those regions bear witness to this fact. When Cook
went there, the natives of all of them were absolute savages. At the
present time a great number of the islands have been blessed with the
light of Christianity, but some of them are still lying in the state of
degradation in which they were first found.
At this moment, reader, while you ponder these lines, there are men of
the South Seas who wander about in a state of nudity and idleness; who
practise every species of abomination, and kill, roast, and eat each
other, just as they did a hundred years ago.
The eating of human beings, or, as it is called, cannibalism, is no idle
tale invented by travellers. Men of the highest character for truth,
who have had ample opportunity for observation, from the time of Cook to
the present day, have assured us that the natives of those lovely
regions are cannibals: that they not only eat the bodies of enemies
slain in war, but even kill and eat their own slaves. Of this you shall
hear more anon; meanwhile, let us turn aside to see how these savage
warriors go forth to battle.
When it has been decided that they shall go to war, the natives of the
South-Sea islands commence their preparations with human sacrifices to
the god of war. After many strange, bloody, and superstitious rites,
the warriors arm themselves and prepare for the fight.
Their weapons, which they use with great dexterity, are slings for
throwing heavy stones, pikes headed with the bones of sting-rays, and
clubs about six or seven feet long, made of a very hard and heavy wood.
In some instances these are richly carved. The chief of each district
leads his own subjects to the field, and reports the number of his men
to the leading chief. When all are assembled they sally forth. If the
fight is to take place on land, it is sometimes begun by the celebrated
warriors of each army marching to the front of their respective lines,
and sitting down on the ground. Several of these then step forward, and
boastfully challenge each other to combat. The challenge is usually
accepted at once, and after taunting each other for some time, they
engage in furious battle. When one falls, a man from his side rises and
steps forward to fill his place and continue the fight. If either party
gives way, then the main body of the army to which it belongs rushes
forward to its support. The opposing army of course springs forward to
meet them, and thus the fight becomes general. The main bodies advance
in ranks four deep. In the first rank are the bravest men, armed with
spears; in the second rank they are armed with clubs to defend the
spearmen. The third row consists of young men with slings, and the
fourth is composed of women, who carry baskets of stones for the
slingers, and clubs and spears for the other combatants.
There is no science displayed in their mode of fighting. The opposing
armies rush upon each other with terrible fury, dealing deadly blows and
thrusts with their murderous weapons. The din and clamour of the fray
is increased by a class of men whose duty it is to animate the troops by
voice and gesture. These may be styled the orators of battle, and are
usually men of commanding stature and well-tried courage. They mingle
in the thickest of the fight; hurry to and fro, cheering the men with
the passionate recital of heroic deeds, and, in every possible way,
rousing their courage and urging them on to deeds of valour. Pressing
through the host with flashing eyes and thundering voice, they shout
such abrupt sentences as the following:--
"Roll onward like the billows! Break on them with the ocean's foam and
roar when bursting on the reefs! Hang on them as the forked lightning
plays above the foaming surf! Give out the vigilance; give out the
anger--the anger of the devouring wild dog--till their line is broken;
till they flow back like the receding tide!"
Amid such cries, mingled with the shouts of maddened combatants, and the
yells of stricken men, the fight goes on. They use no shields.
Believing that the gods direct their weapons, they make no attempt to
guard, but lay about them with fury. Blows do not often require to be
repeated. Skulls are cleft or battered in; and hearts are pierced with
one blow or thrust, and, when noted warriors fall on either side, shouts
of triumph echo along the line and strike a panic through the enemy's
ranks.
The first wounded man who can be seized before being quite dead is
offered in sacrifice by his foes. He is not taken to their temple for
that purpose, but his head is bound round with sacred cinet brought from
the temple, and he is then laid alive on a number of spears and borne on
men's shoulders along the ranks, the priest of the god of war walking
alongside and watching the writhings of the dying man. If a tear falls
from his eye it is said he is weeping for his land. If he should clench
his fist it is supposed to be a sign that his party will resist to the
last.
If a great chief falls, the party to which he belongs retires a short
distance, collects some of the bravest men, and then rushes with
incredible fury and yells of vengeance upon the foe to "clear away the
blood." The shock is terrific when the contending parties meet, and
numbers usually fall on both sides.
During the battle the armies sometimes separate a little distance for a
time, leaving a space between them; then the slingers of stones advance.
The most expert of these slingers are renowned warriors, and when they
are recognised a shout arises from the opposite ranks, "Beware! a
powerful stone is such an one." At short range the stones about the
size of a hen's egg are thrown straight at the enemy with such force
that it is almost impossible to avoid them, so that they do much
execution. But soon again the lines close and the fight is renewed hand
to hand.
At length one of the lines begins to waver. Seeing this, the others are
encouraged to renewed efforts; their enemies at last break and fly, and
then a scene of terrible carnage follows. The vanquished rush to their
canoes, or fly to the strongholds of the mountains. The victors
continue the pursuit, slaughtering men and women indiscriminately. A
fallen warrior perchance cries for mercy, "Spare me! may I live?" says
he. If the name of his conqueror's chief or king is invoked, the
request is sometimes granted; if not, the only reply is a taunt,
followed by a thrust or a deadly blow. Thus the scene of murder and
blood goes on until the fugitives have reached their strongholds, or
until the shades of evening put an end to the pursuit.
Such were the scenes that took place in the days of Captain Cook, and
such or similar scenes still occur frequently at the present time on the
coral isles of the Pacific.
When their wars are conducted on the sea, the islanders embark in
war-canoes, which are so large as to be able to carry from sixty to
eighty and even a hundred men. Captain Cook tells us that the ingenuity
of these people appears in nothing more than in their canoes. They are
long and narrow. One that he measured was sixty-eight and a half feet
long, five feet broad, and three feet and a half deep. The bottom was
sharp, with straight sides like a wedge. Each side consisted of one
entire plank sixty-three feet long, ten or twelve inches broad, and an
inch and a quarter thick. The bottom part of the canoe was hollowed
out, and these planks were lashed to it with strong plaiting. A
grotesque ornament projected six feet beyond the head, and it had a sort
of stern-post that rose to a height of about fourteen feet. Both the
head and the stern-post were beautifully carved, and the canoe was
propelled by means of short paddles, the men sitting with their faces in
the direction in which they were going. The heads of many of the canoes
were curious, in some cases it was the figure of a man with a face as
ugly as can well be conceived, with a monstrous tongue thrust out of the
mouth, and white shells stuck in for eyes.
In such canoes they went forth to war upon the water, and their
sea-fights were not less sanguinary than those of the land. In one
battle that was fought between the people of Huahine and those of
Raiatea immense slaughter took place. The fleet of one side consisted
of ninety war-canoes, each about a hundred feet long, and filled with
men. They met near a place called Hooroto, when a most obstinate and
bloody engagement ensued. Both parties lost so many men that, when
piled up on the day after the battle, the dead bodies formed a heap "as
high as the young cocoa-nut trees."
The captives taken in these wars are usually murdered on the spot,
unless reserved for slaves to their conquerors.
One of the results of these sanguinary fights is the existence of a
number of what may be called wild men in the mountains of the islands.
Ellis, in his _Polynesian Researches_, tells us that he once saw one of
these men who had been caught in the mountains and was at that time
comparatively tame, yet his appearance was very remarkable. He was
about the middle size, large boned, but not fleshy. His features and
countenance were strongly marked. His complexion was dark, and his
aspect agitated and wild. His beard was long, and the hair of his head
upwards of a foot and a half in length. It was parted on his forehead,
but was matted and dishevelled. The colour of his hair was singular.
At the roots it was black, six inches from his head it was light brown,
and the extremities were light yellow. He was quite naked, with the
exception of a _maro_ or girdle round the loins. This poor creature had
been driven to the mountains in time of war, and had remained in
solitude for many years. Probably extreme terror had affected his mind,
for he was gloomy, and seemed to take no interest in anything going on
around him. Evidently those "wild men" were poor creatures whose
misfortunes had driven them mad.
One of them was captured on another occasion by a party which had gone
into the mountains to collect the bark of a certain tree which is used
for dyeing cloth. On their way they perceived a man lying asleep on the
ground. They surrounded him with as little noise as possible, but when
they approached he awoke. Leaping up, he flung his wild locks over his
shoulders and gazed at them with a startled look; then he darted into
the woods, where he was caught by one of the men and secured. Had he
not been enfeebled from recent illness, they could neither have caught
nor retained this man.
On being taken he exhibited signs of extreme terror. It was in vain
that his captors assured him they meant him no harm; he continued to
exclaim, "Ye are murderers, ye are murderers! do not murder me, do not
murder me!" Even after he had been taken to the settlement and treated
with great kindness, he could not be prevailed on to say anything more
than "Do not kill me," and did not rest until he had made his escape
into the woods!