CHAPTER XVII.

THE CLIMATE OF THE SOLOMON ISLANDS.

Rainfall--The Black Squall--Rain Records of Ugi and Santa Anna--Ship

Record--Annual Rainfall of the Coasts and Higher Regions--Barometric

Pressure--Temperature--Humidity--Sun-burns--Winds--Table of

Meteorological Observations--Wind Record--The Effects of the Climate

on the Weight of the Body pp. 352-370

INDEX 371

THE SOLOMON ISLANDS.

CHAPTER I.

INTRODUCTORY.

THOSE who have never been tempted “to seek strange truths in

undiscovered lands,” will perhaps find it difficult to appreciate the

disappointments, inconveniences, and petty difficulties which beset the

traveller, however favourably circumstanced he may be. Patience and

perseverance enable him finally to disregard these lesser hindrances and

to devote his undisturbed attention to the principal objects he has in

view: and thus, when writing at some future time the narrative of his

experiences, he gives but little prominence to matters which affected

very materially at the moment both his personal comfort and his chances

of success.

Amongst the Solomon Islands the student of nature may be compared to a

man who, having found a mine of great wealth, is only allowed to carry

away just so much of the precious ore as he can bear about his person.

For there can be no region of the world where he experiences more

tantalisation. Day after day he skirts the shores of islands of which

science has no “ken.” Month after month, he may scan, as I have done,

lofty mountain-masses never yet explored, whose peaks rise through the

clouds to heights of from 7,000 to 10,000 feet above the sea. He may

discern on the mountain-slopes the columns of blue smoke which mark the

abodes of men who have never beheld the white man. But he cannot land

except accompanied by a strong party; and he has therefore to be content

usually with viewing such scenes from the deck of his vessel.

Fortunately, however, there are some parts of the Solomon Group where

the hostility of the natives has been to a great extent overcome by the

influence of the missionaries and of the traders; but the interiors of

the larger islands are almost without exception inhabited by fierce and

treacherous tribes who forbid all approach.

In this chapter I have endeavoured to give some idea of my experiences

during my rambles in different islands of the group. When geologising in

these islands, one labours under the very serious disadvantage of being

unable to get any view or form any idea of the surroundings, on account

of the dense forest-growth clothing both the slopes and summits of the

hills, which is often impassable except by the rude native tracks that

are completely hemmed in by trees on either side. Bush walking, where

there is no native track, is a very tedious process and requires the

constant use of the compass. In districts of coral limestone, such

traverses are equally trying to the soles of one’s boots and to the

measure of one’s temper. After being provokingly entangled in a thicket

for some minutes, the persevering traveller walks briskly along through

a comparatively clear space, when a creeper suddenly trips up his feet

and over he goes to the ground. Picking himself up, he no sooner starts

again when he finds his face in the middle of a strong web which some

huge-bodied spider has been laboriously constructing. However, clearing

away the web from his features, he struggles along until coming to the

fallen trunk of some giant of the forest which obstructs his path, he

with all confidence plants his foot firmly on it and sinks knee-deep

into rotten wood. With resignation he lifts his foot out of the mess and

proceeds on his way, when he feels an uncomfortable sensation inside his

helmet, in which, on leisurely removing it from his head, he finds his

old friend the spider, with body as big as a filbert, quite at its ease.

Shaking it out in a hurry, he hastens along with his composure of mind

somewhat ruffled. Going down a steep slope, he clasps a stout-looking

areca palm to prevent himself falling, when down comes the rotten palm,

and the long-suffering traveller finds himself once more on the ground.

To these inconveniences must be added the peculiarly oppressive heat of

a tropical forest, the continual perspiration in which the skin is

bathed, and the frequent difficulty of getting water. There are

therefore many drawbacks to the enjoyment of such excursions undertaken

without an aim. But let there be some object to be gained, and it is

astonishing how small a success amply repays the naturalist for all the

toil. As an example of the tedious nature of bush walking in these

regions, I may state that crossing the small island of Santa Anna from

south to north--a distance of 2½ miles--occupied on one occasion five

hours. For nearly the whole distance my path lay either through a dense

forest-growth which had never been cleared since this little island

first rose as a coral-atoll above the waves, or amongst tangled

undergrowth which often succeeded effectually in barring the way. Rarely

could I obtain a glimpse of my surroundings, and in consequence it was

on my pocket-compass that I entirely depended. Coral-rock honeycombed

into sharp tearing edges covered the slopes, my way lying between the

large masses of this rock that lay about in strange confusion, the

smaller blocks swaying about under my weight as if eager to rid

themselves of their unusual burden. At one place the coral-limestone

over a space of about a hundred yards was perforated like a sieve by

numerous holes two to three feet across and five to ten feet deep: but

now and then a deep fissure appeared at the bottom of one of these

cavities--leading Heaven knows where--in all probability the

swallow-hole of some stream that once became engulphed in the solid

rock. The spreading roots of trees, together with ferns and shrubs,

often nearly concealed these man-traps from my view; and I found it

necessary to clear the way for every step, a very tedious process at the

close of a tiresome day’s excursion.

In many places that I visited, the ascent of the stream-courses afforded

the only opportunity of learning anything of the geological structure on

account of the thick forest and the depth of the soil on the

hill-slopes. Only at times are the sun’s rays able to penetrate the

dusky ravines through which the streams flow, being usually intercepted

by the matted foliage overhead. Even in the hottest day, such a walk is

pleasantly cool, since the necessity of wading waist-deep and sometimes

of swimming is not unfrequent in the deeper parts of the stream.

However, I found on more than one occasion, after having been wading for

several hours along one of the streams in the cool damp air of the

ravine, that I experienced a sudden sensation of chilliness accompanied

by lassitude and nausea, the thermometer at the time registering 80° in

the shade. Probably the depressing effects of the gloom and damp air of

the ravine, and the wading for several hours under these conditions, may

explain these symptoms.

I should have before referred to another very frequent inconvenience

which, in more senses than one, dampened the ardour with which I set out

on many of my excursions amongst these islands. The annual rainfall in

these regions is probably about five times as much as the average annual

rainfall in England. The showers themselves are usually very heavy, and

often rain falls at the rate of an inch in the hour, which means a

thorough wetting in less than a minute. When in the eastern part of the

group, I rarely used to return on board without having had half-an-inch,

or an inch, of rain distributed over my person. Such wettings, however,

do but little harm as long as a flannel suit is worn, since the weather

generally clears up after each shower and the powerful rays of the sun

dry the clothes in a very few minutes without there being the necessity

of stopping to take them off.

In spite of the numerous drawbacks, my excursions never lost their

interest. Although accustomed to traverse districts which have been

upheaved in recent times to elevations of several hundred feet above the

sea, the finding of an ancient coral-reef high up a densely-wooded

hill-slope, or the picking up of sand and recent sea shells in the

interior of an island now supporting a luxuriant vegetation, always

excited the same feelings of wonder and interest that I experienced on

first landing on one of the recently upheaved islands of the Solomon

Group. My thirst, fatigue, and bruises, were forgotten, as whilst

contemplating my surroundings over a pipe I attempted to picture to

myself the stages in the history of the island on which I was standing,

and reflected on the unwritten past of the natives sitting smoking on

the ground around me.

I was rarely unaccompanied in my excursions, since with the prospect of

getting tobacco and pipes at the close of the day, natives were always

found eager to accompany me. Frequently the boys and lads of the village

were only too glad to assist me in carrying my bags. The young imps were

always full of fun and frolic, making themselves useful in all kinds of

ways, and enlivening the time by their singing, laughing, and continual

chattering. Many were the speculations made concerning the nature of my

pursuits, and many were the questions to which I had to give some reply.

Gorai, the chief of the Shortland Islands, was very desirous to know

what I made with the rocks I collected; but I found it somewhat

difficult to give him an explanation which he could understand. On one

occasion I was the cause of much amusement and perplexity to the natives

of the village of Sinasoro in Bougainville Straits. Hitherto I had been

known to them chiefly on account of my rock-breaking propensities, but

during that particular visit I was making a collection of plants. The

chief men of the village received me very civilly, made me sit down, and

began at once to speculate on the nature of my new pursuit, the

botanical line being a new object for wonder with them. “Patu, he

finish?” (_patu_ meaning stone) was the question put to me by more than

one of their number; and on my telling them that I was going to turn my

attention to “bulu-bulu”--their general name for plants they have no

name for--I had to explain to further inquirers that a particular fern,

named “sinimi” in the native tongue (a species of _Gleichenia_), which

flourished on the higher slopes of their island, was one of the objects

of my excursion.

My usual plan on arriving at a village, which I had never visited

before, was to distribute a little tobacco amongst the curious throng

that pressed around, and then to light my pipe and look pleasant whilst

my guides were endeavouring to explain the character of my pursuits. A

white man without tobacco in these islands is worse off than a man

without any money in his purse in London: for very little is given for

nothing by these natives, and the acceptance of a gift binds you to give

an equivalent in return. I remember once when landing on the beach of a

village where the natives seemed a little uncertain as to what kind of

reception they should give me, what a rapid transformation was produced

by the gift of a little tobacco to the chief. Where there had been

scowls and sullen looks a few moments before, smiles and laughter now

prevailed. The chief led me into his house, introduced me to his

principal wife, and in another minute I was dangling his little son of

about two years old upon my knee. This pleasing transformation had been

effected by the expenditure of a halfpennyworth of tobacco; and I could

not resist framing at the time the following doggrel rhyme, the excuse

for which must be the occasion that gave rise to it.

Shade of Exeter Hall! emerge from thy pall,

Learn the token of union ’twixt white man and black:

Not a brisk cannonade, nor the attractions of trade,

But the mysterious influence of the fragrant _tambak_.[4]

[4] This is the manner of pronouncing “tobacco” amongst these

islanders. In the Malay Archipelago it is pronounced “tambaku.”

(“Crawfurd’s Malay Grammar and Dictionary.”)

Although I was rarely absent from the ship more than a couple of days at

a time, my excursions had occasionally, as regards the number of my

attendants, somewhat of an imposing appearance. Being anxious to visit a

district named Komalia, on the north-west side of Alu, the principal of

the Shortland Islands, that being the locality from which the natives

obtained their slabs of a hard, crystalline diorite, upon which they

used to sharpen their knives and axes, Gorai, the chief, volunteered to

take me there. Accordingly, he appeared alongside the ship the next

morning in a large war-canoe, fifty feet long, and manned by eighteen

paddle-men. We started, twenty-four all told, including Gorai, three of

his sons, and myself. The chief and I sat beside each other, on the

second bow thwart, the post, I believe, which is usually occupied by a

chief. Leaving the Onua anchorage shortly before ten A.M., we proceeded

easily along at about three miles an hour, coasting the north side of

Alu and passing numerous islets on the way. The day was fine but very

hot, and there was no protection from the glare of the sun on the water.

About half-past one, we reached the north-west point of Alu, where we

put into a small cove to get water. Here we saw the tracks of a

crocodile on the sand; and on proceeding on our way we saw another on

the beach, which, however, soon dived into the sea. Shortly after this,

two-thirds of the crew of the canoe jumped overboard after a small

turtle, which managed to evade them. The men in the water disturbed

another crocodile, which rushed boldly through the line of swimmers,

and, diving under our canoe, soon disappeared. Three dugongs came up to

the surface close to us; and the old chief fired a shot with his snider

at one of them, but without much apparent effect. About half-past two,

we reached our destination, and we at once proceeded in search of the

volcanic rocks, which we soon succeeded in finding. There was not the

slightest reason to question on what errand we were employed, and I

doubt if there was ever a more odd-looking party of geologists. The old

chief, distinguished from the rest of his men by a shirt, his only

article of apparel, led the way; and I followed with about a dozen of

his natives. Taking the cue from me, the whole party immediately began

breaking up the rocks, and I was in a very short time supplied with an

abundance of material to select from. Courtesy, however, compelled me to

take all the chief brought to me, which was somewhat inconvenient since

the old man displayed much energy in using my geological hammer. On

returning to the beach where the canoe had been drawn up, we found that

some of the natives had captured a wild boar by the aid of their dogs

and spears. The animal was already disembowelled and was being

quartered. Whilst we were preparing our evening meal, some of the men

made temporary couches for the chief, his three sons, and myself, these

couches being merely a layer of poles resting at their ends on two logs

and raised about six inches above the ground, the materials being

quickly obtained in the adjoining wood. As night fell, we lay down on

our couches and smoked, whilst the natives, who had lit about

half-a-dozen fires, were waiting for their roast pig, the quarters of

which had been placed on a large pile of burning logs, built up in

layers to a height of three feet, with three poles placed like a tripod

over the pile to draw the fire up. When it was quite dark, the numerous

fires lit up the wood around, whilst the natives made the place resound

with their singing and laughter. Over our pipes, Gorai and I had some

conversation on his ideas of a future state, which he summed up

concisely in the phrase “go ground.” In the middle of the night heavy

rain came on; and since there was no shelter, I had simply to lie still

and let it come down. My companions, however, used their pandanus mats

to cover themselves from head to foot, and did not appear to be, in the

slightest degree, inconvenienced by the wet.

On another occasion, I spent a night on the summit of Treasury Island,

in the company of four natives, one of whom, named Erosini, knew a

little English. Leaving the anchorage in the early morning, a three

hours’ tramp brought us to the large stream named Tella-tella, on the

north-east side of the island. Another four hours were occupied in

wading up the stream, when we commenced to ascend the hill-slopes,

arriving at the summit late in the afternoon. From here we could see, at

a distance of about sixty miles, the lofty peaks of Bougainville, and

midway between us lay the white beaches of the Shortland Islands. As it

was getting dusk, we began to look around for what Erosini had described

to me as a house where we might pass the night. It turned out, however,

to be a very dilapidated “lean-to,” which had been temporarily occupied

by a native who had come up to look after his sago palms a year or more

before. My men immediately set to work to make it habitable for the

night, and then they began to prepare their evening meal, consisting of

a two-pound tin of beef, three opossums, and a large fresh-water eel

which had been captured during the day. With the night-fall, the

concert of frogs, lizards, and insects began. One could readily

distinguish amongst the notes of the various contributors in the evening

chorus, the “kooroo” of the lizard, and the “appa-appa” of the frog,

sounds from which the native names for these creatures are derived,

viz., “kurru-rupu” and “appa-appa.” Numerous fire-flies lit up the

recesses of the forest, as if to disclose the hiding-places of the

performers in the general discord, but to no purpose; and soon, rather

fatigued by our day’s exertions, we fell asleep. So little had my

companions been used to wander over their island, that I found three out

of the four had never been in that locality before.

Not unfrequently, after having carefully chosen my guides, I have found

it necessary to lead instead of to follow; but as a rule my men have

been very willing to trust to the directions of the compass, which I

have found absolutely necessary in crossing the smaller islands with no

track to guide the course. Some of my pleasantest memories are

associated with my traverses across these smaller islands. After forcing

my way during some hours through a tangled forest, irritated by the

numerous obstructions in my course and sweltering under the oppressive

heat, I have suddenly emerged from the trees on the weather coast of the

island, where the invigorating blast of the trade in a few moments

restores the equilibrium of mind and body as one drinks in the healthful

breeze. After such an experience, I have found myself with my native

companions standing on the brink of a bold line of coral-limestone cliff

with the surf breaking below us, which even in the calmest weather sends

up one continued roar, whilst away to seaward, across the blue expanse

of water, extended the horizon unbroken by any distant land. On the edge

of the cliff the pandanus and the cycad competed with each other for the

possession of the seaward margin of the island. The scene was peculiarly

Pacific; and as we sat alone on the brink of the cliffs enjoying a smoke

and contemplating the scene spread out below us, I fancied even the

minds of my natives shared with me that feeling of awe with which one

views the grander of nature’s forces in actual operation. . . . .

Equally pleasant are my recollections of numerous tramps during fine

weather along the sandy beaches on the windward coasts of coral islands.

On such occasions the sea itself seemed to revel in the glory of the

day. Wave after wave, white-tipped with foam and reflecting the

brightest of the sun’s rays, pursued each other merrily over the surface

of its unfathomable blue. Against the edge of the reef broke the surf

unceasingly, sending its whitened spray high into the air, and joining

its hoarse bass with the hum of insect life from the neighbouring wood.

During the greater portion of our sojourn in the Solomon Islands, I had

a small Rob Roy canoe made for me by Mr. Oliver, boat-builder of

Auckland, N.Z. It was built of kauri pine, and measured 8½ feet in

length and 3 feet in beam, being intended to combine compactness with

stability. This little craft turned out a great success and was

extremely handy, as I could haul it up on the beach with ease, and its

stowage capability was something surprising. Numerous and varied were my

experiences in this small canoe, but the most enjoyable were those when

in the loveliest of weather I paddled gently along from one coral islet

to another, admiring the variety in form and colour of the groves of

coral over which my little craft smoothly glided. At other times in the

sleepy hours of the afternoon I would tie up my canoe to the overhanging

branch of a tree, and would land to enjoy a cocoa-nut, a pipe, and

perhaps a nap. When lazy, I would get a tow from my native companions in

their larger canoe; and in this manner I was towed for more than a mile

up one of the large streams that empty into Choiseul Bay. I used to

penetrate into all kinds of solitary inlets, now disturbing the siesta

of some unsuspecting crocodile as I paddled through the dismal tract of

the mangrove swamp, or surprising a turtle in the shallow water of the

lagoons inside the coral-reefs. In the deeper water I have passed

through a shoal of clumsy porpoises, some of which I could have touched

with my paddle; whilst occasionally some huge shark, twice the length of

my canoe, would come almost within reach, and then, after satisfying its

curiosity, dive down into the depths again. Now and then my little craft

would be borne on the shoulders of natives to some inland lakelet which

I was anxious to explore. In its lightness I found this great advantage,

that I could sometimes considerably shorten my journey by what I may

describe as terrestrial navigation. On more than one occasion I have

crossed the weather edge of a coral-reef, watching for my chance between

the breakers, and keeping warily clear of the numerous coral nobs, any

one of which would have upset the canoe and its contents; but these are

experiments which I should not care to repeat. I was only twice upset,

and on both occasions my canoe displayed two other serviceable

qualities, shipping but little water and losing none of its contents

although bottom upwards. One of these upsets was rather ludicrous. I

was crossing Alu harbour in tow of a large native canoe, setting out on

a two days’ excursion with all my stores on board, when my scientific

zeal induced me to lean over to pick up a piece of floating pumice. At

that moment the large canoe gave a sudden tug and I found myself in the

water with my canoe bottom upwards beside me. The men in the other canoe

turned her over on her keel, and I got in over the bow, finding very

little water inside, but quite sufficient to soak our store of biscuit.

However, nothing was lost, although my watch stopped half-an-hour

afterwards and refused duty during the rest of the season, and my

aneroid was never of any use again, both these articles having been

carried in my belt.

On the weather coasts of cliff-girt islands exposed to the continuous

trade-swell, much caution is needed in skirting the shore, as every ten

minutes or more a huge roller suddenly rushes in, exposing rocks covered

usually by three or four fathoms of water, and rising up the face of the

cliffs to a height twice as high as the usual level reached by the

breakers. From my foolhardy disregard of this circumstance, I very

nearly lost my life in July, 1884, on the weather coast of Stirling

Island. Having stood for some moments on the edge of the cliff admiring

the magnificent breakers that broke at the foot, there having been a

strong south-easterly gale during the two preceding days, I commenced to

clamber down the face of the cliff to reach a ledge that rose about

twenty feet above the usual level of the breakers. Whilst I was pausing

in the descent to examine the numerous embedded corals in the

cliff-face, a huge wave rose over the ledge, swept up the face of the

cliff over my head, and carried me off as if I had been a feather. I

thought my last moments had come, knowing that if swept off the ledge

into the breakers below, I should be dashed by the next roller against

the base of the cliff. As I was being carried off, I clutched a

projecting point of coral-rock with all my energy, and in a few moments

the wave had left me lying flat on my face on the ledge within two yards

of its brink. The next roller was fortunately of much smaller size, and

in less than a minute I had clambered up the face of the cliff again to

a position of safety, pretty well bruised and scratched about the arms

and legs, but otherwise none the worse. My compass and other things had

fallen out of the pouches in my belt, showing that I had described a

somersault during the immersion. Whilst waiting to dry my clothes in

the sun, I noticed that another ten minutes elapsed before a breaker of

similar size rolled in.

I will conclude this chapter with some observations on the nature of the

work performed by the officers of the survey. The usual experiences of a

nautical surveyor, when detached from his ship for periods varying from

a few days to a fortnight or more, are little known outside the circle

of those more immediately interested in the work of the Hydrographic

Department of the Admiralty. They would afford, as I have often thought,

materials for an interesting volume, the perusal of which would give the

general reader some idea of what nautical surveying really is. It is a

work often hazardous and tedious to those engaged in the boats, and

frequently full of anxiety for the commander who has to direct the

survey.

The work in the Solomon Islands had its peculiar, and none the less

trying, features. To be detached in a boat for a week off a coast, on

which it was not considered prudent to land, except on particular points

selected for the establishment of theodolite-stations, was a not

uncommon experience with the surveying parties. The alternation of heavy

rain and scorching heat served to vary the experience, but not to

increase the comfort of those employed from sunrise to sunset in mapping

the intricacies of an unsurveyed coast; and the kindheartedness of the

surveying officer was often sorely tried, when, after a tedious day’s

work under these conditions, he had to tell off his men to keep a

look-out for canoes, and a sharp eye on the land, to see that the boat

did not drag. There were, of course, other occasions when the detached

parties were engaged in surveying islands, the natives of which were

friendly disposed; and then, if the weather favoured them, the week’s

absence from the ship partook almost of the nature of a pleasant picnic.

In the Solomon Islands, however, a considerable experience of the

inhabitants of an island is required before a boat can be sent away with

the certain assurance that its occupants will meet with no mishap. The

unfortunate massacre of Lieutenant Bower of H.M.S. “Sandfly,” and of

most of his boat’s crew in 1880, whilst employed in the survey of the

Florida Islands in this group, is but an example of the uncertainty that

there always will be in dealing with these races. Although similar

disasters have been recently almost of monthly occurrence in these

islands, during our intercourse of 21 months with the natives we did not

fire a single shot in anger, and in our turn we never witnessed a spear

hurled or an arrow discharged except in sport.

The navigation of a sailing ship, such as H.M.S. “Lark,” whilst engaged

in the survey of a passage dotted with unknown, sunken coral-reefs, and

skirted by islands inhabited by a race of savages who have obtained a

notorious reputation on account of the ferocity they display to the

white man, cannot but tax to the uttermost the capacity and nerve of the

officer in command. I can recall more than one anxious moment, and

probably there were others known only to those concerned in the

navigation of the ship, when on our suddenly getting soundings in the

middle of the night in a place where we expected to find “a hundred

fathoms and no bottom,” I set about putting my journals together in

order not to lose what I had been at so much pains to obtain. Towards

the completion of the survey, however, it was ascertained by Lieutenant

Oldham that the ship might have sailed without danger over any of the

isolated reefs which were not indicated at the surface by either a

sand-key or an islet; but this was a character of the reefs that was

only ascertained by a process more pleasing to talk about than to

undergo.

Before quitting this subject, I should refer to an apparent injustice

which exists in the apportioning of no extra pay to the men employed in

detached boat-work in the surveying service. With the exception of an

issue of clothing, gratis, the boats’ crews receive little or nothing in

the form of a reward. I am strongly inclined to believe that the

recognition, even in a slight degree, of the arduous character of their

work, which is of quite an exceptional character as compared with the

routine-employment on board the ordinary man-of-war, would do much

towards increasing the interest usually displayed by the men employed in

such a service.

CHAPTER II.

GOVERNMENT--HEAD-HUNTING--SLAVERY--CANNIBALISM.

THE following anthropological notes are the result of my own personal

observation and research, and are necessarily of a somewhat fragmentary

character. I had no intention when I first visited these islands of

making any special observations on the habits and manners of their

inhabitants. When, however, I saw the apparent want of interest

displayed by those who had it in their power to enrich the world with

their accumulated experiences, I determined to jot down in my diary the

things which came in my way during my intercourse with the natives. I

cannot of course lay claim to the accuracy and more intimate knowledge

such as missionaries and traders resident in the group must possess; and

it is to be deplored that such valuable sources of materials for a

comprehensive work on the anthropology of this region should be allowed

to lie fallow. My lengthened intercourse with the natives of certain

parts of the group removed to some extent the disadvantages under which

the traveller must always labour when not actually resident among them.

My field of observation, however, was limited to but a small area of the

whole region: and the greater part has yet to be explored and described.

* * * * *

Commencing my remarks by referring to the system of government usually

adopted in these islands, it should be observed that the form of

hereditary chieftainship, which prevails throughout the Pacific, here

predominates. Every island that supports a number of natives may possess

as many distinct chiefs--each claiming independence of the others--as

there are villages in the island; and this statement holds equally good

whether applied to a large island like St. Christoval or to those of

small size as Santa Anna and Ugi. Yet there is not unfrequently to be

met a chief who, by the power of his wealth or by the number of his

fighting men, assumes a degree of suzerainty over the less powerful

chiefs in his vicinity. Thus, the influence of Gorai, the Shortland

chief, is not only dominant over the islands of Bougainville Straits,

but extends to the adjacent coast of the large islands of Bougainville

and Choiseul, and reaches even to Bouka, more than a hundred miles away.

The small island of Simbo or Eddystone, the Narovo of the natives, is

under the sway of a powerful chief who resides, together with nearly all

his fighting men, on an islet bordering its south-east side. His

influence extends to the neighbouring larger islands, and is probably as

despotic as that of any of the numerous chiefs with whom I was brought

into contact. I might mention other instances in this group where a

comparatively small island becomes the political centre of a large

district. Similar instances are familiar amongst the other Pacific

archipelagos, and notably in the case of Bau in Fiji; and they may all

be attributed to the fact that the coast-tribes are of more robust

physique and of more enterprising character than the inhabitants of the

interior of the larger island, or “bush men” as they are often termed.

The large island of St. Christoval is divided amongst numerous tribes

between which there are constant feuds, each tribe having its own chief.

A wide distinction exists between the inhabitants of the interior and

those of the coast; and an unceasing hostility prevails between the one

and the other. The distinction often extends to language, a circumstance

which points to a long continuation of these feuds; and from it we may

infer that the isolation has continued during a considerable period. The

bush-tribes find their best protection on the summits of the high hills

and on the crests of the mountain-ridges which traverse the interior of

the island. I passed one night in the bush-village of Lawa, which is

situated on a hill-top about 1,400 feet above the sea near the north

coast of St. Christoval. As I was in a locality where probably no white

man had been before, the novelty of my situation kept me awake the

greater part of the night; and very early the next morning I rose up

from my mat in the tambu-house to view, undisturbed, the interior region

of the island. It was a gloomy morning. Thin lines of mist were still

encircling the loftier summits or lingering in the valleys below. Here

and there on the crest of some distant hill a cluster of cocoa-nut palms

marked the home of a bush-tribe effectually isolated by deep intervening

valleys from the neighbouring tribes. I gazed upon a region which had

for ages worn the same aspect, inhabited by the same savage races, the

signs of whose existence played such an insignificant part in the

panorama laid out before me. Standing alone on this hill-top, I

reflected on the deeds of barbarity which these silent mountains must

have witnessed “in the days of other years,” deeds which are only too

frequent in our own day when the hand of every tribe is against its

neighbour, and when the butchery of some unsuspecting hamlet too often

supplies the captors with the materials for the cannibal feast.

By the unusual success of their treachery and cunning--the two weapons

most essential to savage warfare in St. Christoval as well as in the

other islands--some chiefs have acquired a predominance over the

neighbouring villages, and their name inspires terror throughout the

island. Amongst them, I may mention Taki, the chief of the large village

of Wano on the north coast of this island. He has obtained the double

reputation of being a friend to the white man and of being the most

accomplished head-hunter in St. Christoval; and, as may be readily

imagined, the efforts of the Melanesian Mission, by whom a station has

been for many years established in this village,[5] have been greatly

retarded by the indifference of this powerful chief. The resident

teacher in the village was his own son, who had been selected by Bishop

Selwyn and had undergone the usual training of teachers in Norfolk

Island. I regret to write that he greatly lapsed during our stay in the

group, that he appears to have accompanied his father on a head-hunting

foray, and that he finally met with an untimely fate, being so severely

wounded by a shark when fishing on the reef that he died a few hours

afterwards. Taki, although not a Christian convert, was fond of

displaying his connection with the Mission. He showed me a certificate

which he received from Bishop Patteson in July, 1866; and in fact he is

always ready to do the honours of his village to the white man. Of his

head-hunting propensities, Captain Macdonald, an American trader

resident in Santa Anna, told us the following tale: Not long before the

arrival of H.M.S. “Lark” in the Solomon Islands, he was sailing along

the St. Christoval coast, when he met Taki in his war-canoe proceeding

on one of these expeditions. He endeavoured to place hindrances in the

chief’s way by telling him that he had native-traders living at the

different places on the coast where he intended to land. But it was to

no purpose. Taki saw the ruse, and taking it in good part remarked to

Captain Macdonald that he had apparently a large number of natives

trading for him. Waiting patiently until some unfortunate bushmen

ventured down on the reefs to fish, the Wano chief surprised them,

slaughtered many and carried the living and the dead in triumph to his

village. When Mr. Brenchley visited this village in H.M.S. “Curacoa” in

1865, he saw evidence of a head-hunting foray, in which probably Taki

had taken part in his youthful days. The skulls of 25 bushmen were

observed hanging up under the roof of the tambu-house, all showing the

marks of the tomahawk.[6] In our time, this chief conducted his forays

less openly, and I saw no evidence of his work in the tambu-houses of

his village.

[5] The Rev. J. Atkin was resident at Wano in 1871, shortly before

he met his death with Bishop Patteson in Santa Cruz.

[6] “Cruise of H.M.S. ‘Curacoa’” (p. 267); by J. L. Brenchley, M.A.

The practice of head-hunting, above referred to, prevails over a large

extent of the Solomon Group. The chiefs of New Georgia or Rubiana extend

their raids to Isabel, Florida, and Guadalcanar; and thus perform

voyages over a hundred miles in length. Within the radius of these raids

no native can be said to enjoy the security of his own existence for a

single day. In the villages of Rubiana may be seen heaps of skulls

testifying to the success of previous expeditions. Captain Cheyne, when

visiting Simbo or Eddystone Island in 1844, found that the natives had

just returned from a successful expedition, bringing with them 93 heads

of men, women, and children. In these expeditions, he says, they

sometimes reached as far as Murray Island which lies about 135 miles to

the eastward.[7] Their reputation, however, had extended yet further,

since D’Urville, who visited Thousand Ships Bay in 1838, tells us that

the Isabel natives knew the land of Simbo and pointed to the west to

indicate its direction.[8] The Rev. Dr. Codrington, in referring to

these head-hunting raids,[9] remarks that the people of the south-west

part of Isabel have suffered very much from attacks made on them year

after year by the inhabitants of the further coast of the same island

and of neighbouring islands, the object of these attacks being to obtain

heads, either for the honour of a dead or living chief or for the

inauguration of new canoes. He observes that a new war canoe is not

invested with due _mana_, _i.e._, supernatural power, until some man

has been killed by those on board her; and any unfortunate voyagers are

hunted down for the purpose on the first trip or afterwards. The Rubiana

natives are said to have introduced head-hunting and human sacrifices

into the neighbouring islands. They carry off not only heads but living

prisoners, whom they are believed to keep, till on the death of a chief,

or launching of a canoe, or some great sacrifice, their lives are taken.

[7] “A Description of Islands in the Western Pacific Ocean” (p. 66),

by Andrew Cheyne, London, 1852.

[8] “Voyage au Pole Sud,” Paris, 1843; tom. v., p. 31.

[9] Journal of Anthropological Institute, vol. x., p. 261.

White men have sometimes been the victims of these head-hunting

expeditions. As is well known, Lieutenant Bower, of H.M.S. “Sandfly,”

met his death, together with the greater number of his boat’s crew, on

the islet of Mandoleana, in 1880, at the hands of a similar expedition

undertaken by the Florida natives. Kalikona, the most influential chief

of the Florida Islands, was freed from implication in this tragedy

mainly through the efforts of Bishop Selwyn, to whose influence the

subsequent surrender of the five natives concerned in the raid was

chiefly due. More often than not, these head-hunting forays are

unconnected with cannibalism, the mere possession of skulls being the

principal object of the expedition. In some islands, there is a rude

idea of justice perceptible in this practice. It is the custom in the

eastern islands of the group to place out head-money for the head of any

man who may have rendered himself obnoxious to any particular village.

The money--a considerable amount of native shell-money--may be offered

by the friends of a murdered man for the head of the murderer. Months,

sometimes years, may elapse before the deed is accomplished and the

money paid. The task is generally undertaken by a professional

head-hunter, such as we met in the person of Mai, the second chief of

the village of Sapuna, in the island of Santa Anna. To make a thorough

examination of the home and surroundings of his victim, and to insinuate

himself into that intimacy which friendship alone can give him, are

necessary initiatory steps which only the cunning head-hunter can know

how to carry to a successful issue. Time is of no moment. The means

employed are slow, but the end is none the less secure; and when the

opportunity arrives, it is the friend of months, if not of years, who

gives the fatal blow.

In the above description of the head-hunter, I have had before my mind

some of the reminiscences of Captain Macdonald, to whom I have before

alluded. By his judicious treatment of the natives in the eastern

islands, he has acquired a powerful influence for good amongst them;

and it is to his past discretion that many a white man, myself among the

number, has owed his safety when landing on St. Christoval.

When this island was being surveyed by the officers of H.M.S. “Lark,” in

1882, we learned that there was head-money out for a white man’s head in

a district on the north side and nearly opposite Ugi. It appeared that

about a year before a fatal accident had occurred on board a

trading-vessel through a revolver going off unexpectedly and killing a

native belonging to the district. It was the current opinion of resident

traders that sooner or later the required head would be obtained. As

characteristic of a trader’s experience in these islands, I may add that

on one occasion when visiting Mr. Bateman, a trader residing then on the

north coast of Ugi, I was told by him that about a month before a

friendly Malaita chief had arrived in a large canoe at Ugi with the

information that head-money had been offered by another Malaita chief

for the head of a white man. The chief who brought the news advised Mr.

Bateman to remove his residence to the interior of the island; and the

natives in his vicinity were very solicitous that the warning should be

heeded.

I learned from Mr. Stephens, who has resided on Ugi for several years,

that on one occasion when he was resident on Guadalcanar, on returning

from an excursion up the bed of one of the streams, a message was

received from the chief of a village in the interior warning him not to

make any more similar excursions or he would take his life. The chief of

the village, under whose protection Mr. Stephens was residing, took up

the matter as an insult to himself; and sent a reply to the effect that

if the neighbouring chief wished to remain on terms of amity with him,

he should at once send a head in atonement for the threats directed

against the white man. A day or two afterwards, Mr. Stephens saw the

head, which had been duly sent.

The little island of Santa Anna, although but 2½ miles in length,

supports two principal villages, Otagara and Sapuna, which are as often

as not at war with each other, although only separated by the breadth of

the island. Such was the state of affairs during one of our visits to

Port Mary in this island; and the fact that the natives of the two

villages were connected by inter-marriages did not act as a deterrent in

the matter. Through the restless spirit of Mai, the head-hunter before

referred to, some old grievance had been dug up, the murder, I believe,

some years before of the brother of Mai by the Otagara natives. The

outcome of it was that in the middle of the night all the fighting men

of Sapuna assembled at the tambu-house of Mai, and started off along the

coast to pounce upon their fellow islanders on the other side. The

utmost that could have happened would have been the slaughter of some

unsuspecting man or woman on the skirts of the village: but, as it

chanced, a thunderstorm with heavy rain overtook the party when near

their destination; and this dampened their courage to such a degree that

they returned to their own village with the excuse that the rain, by

running down their faces, would have hindered them in throwing their

spears and avoiding those of their opponents. On the following day, Mai

led a party of Sapuna men to make another attack, and on returning in

the afternoon from one of my excursions into the interior of the island,

I learned that the party had returned triumphant, having killed one of

their neighbour’s large pigs, an act which is regarded as a “casus

belli” in native politics.

In the person of Mai, we have a typical example of a Solomon Island

head-hunter. The cunning and ferocity which marked his dealings, were

sufficiently indicated in his countenance and his mien. He had

established for himself the position of war-chief in his village of

Sapuna, the reigning chief being of a more peaceable disposition. During

one of our visits to this island we found that this war-chief had been

very recently displaying his heroism in the most approved native

fashion. He had led a war-party across to Fanarite on the opposite coast

of St. Christoval, to avenge the death of a fugitive from a labour

vessel who, having escaped at Santa Anna, subsequently found his way to

Fanarite where he was killed. The excuse, although somewhat circuitous,

was quite sufficient for Mai, who in his disinterestedness thought more

of this chance of gaining new laurels than of the untimely end of the

native whose death he was so eager to avenge. Having reached the part of

the coast where this man had been killed, the war-party lay in ambush

and slaughtered a chief and two women as they were returning from their

yam patches; whilst they severely wounded another woman who escaped into

the bush with a spear through her back. Having dipped their weapons in

the gore of their victims, Mai and his party returned to Santa Anna. I

was sorry to learn that a native, named Pukka-pukka who had served in

the “Lark” as an interpreter during the previous year, had taken an

active part in this expedition. It appeared that the chief had aimed at

him, but his musket missed fire, when Pukka-pukka shot him through the

back with his snider. The scene of the tragedy was familiar to me, as I

had landed there the year before. Pukka-pukka, who is a sensible young

man and of by no means a bloodthirsty disposition, did not like my

taking him to task for the part he took in this raid; and he protested

more than once in a somewhat injured tone that his people did not fight

without good cause. In his case, I felt confident that he was not

tempted by the mere love of bloodshedding, the truth being that through

the able tutorship of Mai, all old feuds are kept alive in the minds of

the young men of the village, who, in their desire to distinguish

themselves, come to regard such grievances as fair grounds for war. We

soon learned that the Fanarite natives would seize the first opportunity

to retaliate; and that head-money to a large amount had been offered for

the head of a native of Santa Anna, and particularly for the head of

Pukka-pukka.

The chiefs of the islands of Bougainville Straits possess far greater

power over their peoples than that which is wielded by most of the

chiefs we encountered at the St. Christoval end of the group. At Santa

Anna and at Ugi, the position of the chief is almost an empty honour;

and some man of spirit, though not of principle, such as Mai in the

former island and Rora at Ugi, usurps by his fighting prowess a large

share of the power. On the St. Christoval coast I met several such

chiefs, who possess no influence beyond their own district, and often

very little in that. Occasionally, as I have before observed, a chief is

found who, like Taki at Wano, exercises a powerful influence over the

less pretentious chiefs of neighbouring islands and districts. Some of

the Guadalcanar chiefs are very powerful; but with them I had no

personal intercourse; and I prefer to confine my remarks to those

portions of the group with which I became acquainted. Returning, then,

to the chiefs of the islands of Bougainville Straits, I may enumerate

them in their order of importance--Gorai in the Shortland Islands, Mule

at Treasury, Kurra-kurra and Tomimas in Faro or Fauro, and Krepas at

Choiseul Bay. There is constant communication between the natives of

these islands, more particularly between those of Treasury, the

Shortlands, and Faro, the distances between the islands varying between

15 and 25 miles. Intermarriages are frequent between the natives of

these islands. They all speak the same language; and not uncommonly a

man shifts his home from one island to another. The chiefs are all

connected either by blood-relationship or by marriage, and together form

as powerful an alliance as might be found in the whole group. Visits of

condolence are exchanged in times of bereavement between the chiefs; and

presents are conveyed from one to another. On one occasion we carried a

present of sago from Mule to Gorai; and I have on more than one occasion

during our passages between these islands been made the bearer of a

message from chief to chief.

[Illustration: 1

2

1. GORAI, HIS PRINCIPAL WIFE, AND HIS SON FERGUSON.

2. FOUR OF THE WIVES OF MULE.

(_To face page 21._)]

Gorai, the well-known Alu chief, Alu being the name of his principal

island, exercises a kind of suzerainty over the neighbouring chiefs. But

his reputation and influence extend far beyond the islands directly or

indirectly under his rule. From Treasury northward and eastward,

throughout the Shortlands, across the straits to Choiseul Bay, through

Faro, and along the coast of Bougainville, extending even to Bouka, his

influence is predominant. Masters of vessels, recruiting labour on the

coast of Bougainville, have a sufficient guarantee for the good

behaviour of the natives of the places they visit, if they have been

fortunate enough to secure the presence on board of one of the sons of

Gorai. This chief has been the trusted friend of the white man for many

years. On our first visit to Alu we were therefore prepared to think

favourably of him. We found him on the beach, surrounded by a

considerable number of his people. Shaking hands with us, he told us in

his imperfect English that he was a friend of the white man. Rather

beyond middle age, and somewhat shorter than the average native, he has

an honest, good-humoured expression of countenance, which at once

prepossessed us in his favour. Whilst seated in the dingy interior of

one of his houses, surrounded by several of his wives, Gorai related to

us the story--well known to all acquainted with the Solomon Group--of

his reprisal a few years before on the natives of Nouma-nouma, a village

on the east coast of Bougainville, for the murder of Captain Ferguson of

the trading steamer “Ripple.” The master of the “Ripple” was an old

friend of Gorai, and traded extensively with him. On hearing the news,

the chief mustered his men and despatched them in canoes, under the

command of his eldest son, to the scene of the massacre, about a hundred

miles away. The natives of the offending village were surprised, and

about twenty of them were killed, including men, women, and

children--“all same man-of-war,” as Gorai too truthfully observed. One

of the chief’s sons has received the name of the unfortunate master of

the “Ripple;” and I may here refer to the good name which Captain

Ferguson has left behind him, not only amongst the natives of the

Solomon Islands, but also amongst his fellow-traders in those seas. The

inhabitants of the Shortland Islands, Gorai’s immediate rule, live in

great awe of their chief; and the number of natives who gathered round

us when we first met the chief showed us by their manner that in the

friendship of the chief the white man possessed the goodwill of his

subjects. We were unable to see very much of the mode of exercising his

power; but I suspect that Gorai, like other chiefs, places but little

value on the lives of his people. Punishment is summarily dealt by the

spear or the tomahawk; and I learned from natives of the adjoining

islands that the offence may be of a very trivial nature.

On one occasion, Gorai took me in his war-canoe on a geological

excursion to the north-west side of Alu. During our return, the sun set

when we were about twelve miles from the ship, and left us to pursue our

way in the darkness. Seated alongside the chief on the second bow thwart

of the canoe, I could not help reflecting how many times he must have

occupied the same seat in his war-canoes when engaged in those

expeditions which have made his influence dominant on this part of the

group. On our way we skirted the beach of an islet on which were

squatting a party of Alu natives who had gone there to fish. Although we

passed a few yards from these men, not a word of recognition was

exchanged. The sight of a large war-canoe with Gorai and a white man in

the bow passing them in the dusk of evening must have been a novel one

to them, yet neither they nor our men exchanged a word. There they sat

squatting motionless on the beach, and we passed them in silence. Gorai

subsequently explained to me that the reason of this was that the men

were “too much fright,” or rather awed, by the presence of their chief.

The chief of the Shortland Islands has two or more elderly men who act

as his ministers. Many years ago he was living at Treasury, of which

island he was chief; but being unwilling to take part in the hostility

displayed by the Treasury natives towards the white men, he left the

island under the chieftainship of Mule, the present chief, who still

remained in some degree under the rule of Gorai. The Alu chief takes a

pleasure in asserting that he is “all same white man,” at the same time

deprecating the inferior position of his race with the remark, “White

man, he savez too much. Poor black man! He no savez nothing.”

I now come to Mule, the Treasury chief, who numbers amongst his wives a

sister of Gorai, Bita by name; whilst the Alu chief has returned the

compliment by making Mule’s sister, Kai-ka, the principal amongst his

hundred wives. Mule, also known as Mule-kopa, has rather the appearance

and build of a chief of one of the more eastern Pacific groups. He has a

sedate expression of countenance, a prominent chin, and strongly marked

coarse features. A large bushy head of hair adds to the dignity of his

appearance; and his powerful limbs, depth of chest, breadth of

shoulders, and greater height distinguish him pre-eminently from his

people. His rule is as despotic in Treasury as that of Gorai in the

Shortlands; and he maintains his sway rather by the fear he inspires

than by possessing any feeling of respect on the part of his subjects.

On more than one occasion I have heard the natives use threatening

language towards their chief, when he had made some arbitrary exercise

of his power. He had a habit of sending away to the bush any native who

from his superior knowledge of English seemed to be supplanting him in

the intercourse with the ships that visited the harbour. Even his

right-hand man, who prided himself on his name of Billy, experienced his

wrath on one occasion in this manner. Like other chiefs, Mule is

grasping and covetous, shortcomings which are rather those of the race

than of the individual. Although of the chiefs of Bougainville Straits I

liked him the least, the contrast was rather due to the exceptionally

good estimate we had formed of his fellow chiefs. The visits of H.M.S.

“Lark” to this island have been the means of removing the very bad

reputation which the natives had deservedly possessed: and I would

especially invite the attention of my readers to the history of this

change in the attitude of these natives towards the white man.

Captain C. H. Simpson, who visited this island in H.M.S. “Blanche” in

1872, described its people in his report to the Admiralty,[10] as being

“the most treacherous and blood-thirsty of any known savages;” and the

officers employed in making a sketch of the harbour had ample evidence

of their ferocity. About seven years before, the natives had cut out a

barque and had murdered her crew of 33 men. Previously they had captured

several boats of whalers visiting the islands, and had massacred the

crews. The Treasury natives were always very reticent to us when we

tried to learn something more of the fate of the barque; but we learned

little except that she was American, and was named “Superior.” The

captain, whose name the natives pronounced “Hoody,” was carried away

into the interior of the island and killed, and the scene of his murder

was once pointed out to Lieutenant Oldham when crossing the island. As

Captain Simpson charges the natives with cannibalism, there can be

little doubt of the ultimate fate of the crew of the American barque. In

the interval between the occurrence of this event and the arrival of the

“Blanche,” no vessel had anchored in the harbour, the ships always

heaving-to off the north coast, where the natives resided when Captain

Simpson visited the island. Treasury retained its bad reputation up to

the date of our visit; and but few traders had much knowledge of the

place, as they generally gave the island a wide berth. We met but one

man who spoke well of these natives, and he was Captain Walsch of the

trading schooner “Venture.” All others gave them the worst of

characters: and led me to believe that my acquaintance with Treasury

would not extend beyond the deck of H.M.S. “Lark.” When Lieutenant

Oldham first visited this island in May, 1882, he had every reason to

place but little confidence in the natives; and in truth we all thought

that the appearance and behaviour of the natives justified the

treacherous reputation which they had obtained. Only two days were spent

there, but no landing was effected: the chief made no response to the

invitations to visit the ship; and we left the harbour without much

feeling of regret. In June of the following year we again visited this

island; and if the same procedure had been followed we should have been

a very long time in gaining the confidence of the natives. Lieutenant

Oldham, however, paid an official visit to the chief, accompanied by

Lieutenant Malan and myself. Mule and one of his sons returned the visit

within a couple of hours. Presents were exchanged; and the foundation of

mutual confidence was thus laid. The result may be briefly stated. In a

few days I was rambling all over the island, usually accompanied by a

lively gathering of men and boys. An intimacy was established with the

natives, which lasted until we bade farewell to the group in the

following year; and the return of the “Lark” from her cruises was always

a cause of rejoicing amongst the natives. The men of the ship were known

by name to most of the people of the island: whilst Mr. Isabell, our

leading-stoker, made a deep impression upon them by his readiness to

employ his mechanical skill for their various wants, so much so that

Mule offered, if he would remain, to make him a chief with the usual

perquisite as to the number of his wives. For my own part, I reaped the

full benefit of our amicable relations with the natives; and for the

proof of this statement I must refer the reader to the remarks on my

intercourse with them, and to my observations on the geology, botany,

and other characteristics of the island.

[10] “Hydrographic Notices, Pacific Ocean,” 1856 to 1873 (p. 106).

Coming now to the chiefs of Faro or Fauro Island, I must mention more

particularly Kurra-kurra the chief of Toma, and Tomimas the chief of

Sinasoro, Toma and Sinasoro being the two principal villages of the

island. Kurra-kurra is, I believe, a half-brother of Gorai. He has not,

however, the same dignity of manner, and has resigned most of his power

into the hands of his son Gorishwa, a fine strapping young man. Both

father and son are friends of the white man. Tomimas, the Sinasoro

chief, also related to Gorai, is somewhat taciturn even with his own

people, but a chief to be thoroughly trusted. On one occasion whilst

assisting Lieutenant Heming and myself in demolishing our dinners in a

tambu-house at his village, Tomimas broke a long silence by informing us

through a native interpreter that the men of Sinasoro were very good

people, that they did not kill white men, and that their chief was like

Gorai. It is needless to write that we appreciated the good intention,

though hardly the elegance of the chief’s solitary remark. In the

following year, when I was returning from a botanical excursion to the

peak of Faro, I received an invitation from Tomimas to visit him on the

side of the harbour opposite to the village. The chief, who awaited me

on the beach, received me cordially, telling me through one of the

natives, who could speak a little English, that he had collected for me

the fruits and leaves of the “anumi”--a tree of the genus

_Cerbera_--which he had heard I had been anxious to find. The kindly

manner of the old chief attracted me towards him, and I sat down, as he

wished me, by his side on the log of a tree, having first presented him

with a large knife which greatly pleased him. Close by, stood his four

wives, to whom he introduced me, pointing out to me the mother of his

eldest son Kopana, an intelligent young man of about twenty-two. A bunch

of ripe bananas was laid beside me, of which I was bidden to partake.

This was followed in a short time by a savoury vegetable broth, which

the chief brought with his own hands in a cooking-pot. It was especially

prepared for me on their learning that I had found the plant (an aroid,

_Schizmatoglottis_) in my excursions. There was the spirit of true

politeness displayed in the manner of the chief and his wives, as they

endeavoured to show that in the exercise of their simple hospitality

they were receiving, instead of conferring, an honour. I felt that I was

in the presence of good breeding, although sitting attired in a dirty

flannel suit in the midst of a number of almost naked savages. My own

party of Sinasoro natives, who had been fasting for many hours, politely

asked me to partake of their meal which the generosity of the chief had

prepared, before they thought of touching it themselves. I of course

complied with their request by tasting a cooked banana, when, this piece

of etiquette having been duly observed, they attacked the victuals

without ceremony.

Such was my pleasing experience of this Faro chief. During the survey of

this island, the natives showed every disposition to be friendly towards

us. In my numerous excursions I always met with civility, and frequently

with unexpected acts of kindness; and I soon became known to them by the

name given to me by the Treasury natives, “Rōkus” or “Dōkus.”

The principal chief of the district, immediately north of Choiseul Bay,

is named “Krepas.” Several years before he had been living at Faro,

which he left on account of the death of all his wives. When we first

visited Choiseul Bay in September, 1883, we found the natives very coy

in approaching us, on account of the reprisal of H.M.S. “Emerald,” two

years before, on the people of the neighbouring village of Kangopassa

for the cutting out of the trading-vessel “Zephyr,” and the murder of a

portion of her crew. After two days, however, Lieutenant Oldham

succeeded in removing their suspicions, and the chief came on board.

Subsequently Krepas and his son, Kiliusi, accompanied me in a canoe

during my ascent of one of the rivers that empty themselves into this

bay. I found the chief and his son very useful guides, and was

prepossessed in their favour. On our return to Treasury, I was surprised

to learn from Billy, Mule’s prime minister, as we termed him, that

Krepas was a practised cannibal, and would not think much of killing a

white man. Billy was deeply impressed by the circumstance of my having

shared my lunch with the chief of Choiseul Bay, about two miles up one

of the rivers. It was in this bay that the French navigator,

Bougainville, intended to anchor his ships in 1768, being opposed by the

hostility of the natives. The boats, which had been sent in to find an

anchorage, were attacked by 150 men in ten canoes, who were only routed

after the second discharge of fire-arms. Two canoes were captured, in

one of which was found the jaw of a man half-broiled. The number of

shoals, and the irregularity of the currents prevented the ships coming

up to the anchorage before night fell; and Bougainville, abandoning his

design, continued his course through the Straits.[11] The description

which the French navigator gave of these natives in 1768, applies

equally well to those of the present day. When H.M.S. “Lark” revisited

Choiseul Bay in October, 1884, not a single native was seen; so that it

would behove future visitors to be very cautious in their dealings with

these natives. Whilst off the coast north of this bay, a fishing-party

of half-a-dozen men came off to the ship from the village of Kandelai;

but they showed great suspicion of us. They would not come alongside for

some time; and when a present of calico was flung to them at the end of

a line, they were divided amongst themselves whether to come and take

it, some paddling one way and some another. At length they took the

present and came alongside, but did not stay long, and soon paddled

towards the shore, their suspicions by no means allayed. What had

happened to cause this change of attitude, we could not learn.

Evidently, the good impression which we had left behind us a year

before, had borne no fruit. Probably, some inconsiderate action on the

part of the crew of a trading-vessel had undone our work.

[11] “Voyage autour du Monde,” 2nd edit. augm. vol. II., Paris,

1772.

The professional head-hunter of the eastern islands of the group does

not appear to be represented amongst the islands of Bougainville

Straits. Raids are occasionally made on the villages of the adjoining

Bougainville coast, but more, I believe, for the purpose of procuring

slaves, than from the mere desire of fighting. There is, however,

frequent friendly communication between the natives of the islands of

the Straits and those of certain Bougainville villages, the former

usually exchanging articles of trade for spears and tortoise-shell, and

acting as middle-men in the traffic with the white men. It is however

singular that the natives of the Straits trade with different villages

on the Bougainville coast; and that, although on usually such friendly

terms with each other, they are often on terms of hostility with the

particular Bougainville village with which their neighbours trade. Thus,

Mule, the Treasury chief, trades with the people of the village of

Suwai, over which his brother Kopana is chief. Gorai, the Alu chief, on

the other hand, is at war with the natives of Suwai, but maintains

friendly communication with Daku, the chief of the village of Takura,

and with Magasa the chief of the harbour of Tonali. Whilst spending a

night at Sinasoro with Lieutenant Heming and his party, I with the rest

had to share the tambu-house with a party of ten natives from Takura.

They had come across for pigs and taro. The natives of the adjoining

coast of Bougainville, possessing a different language, are not able to

make themselves understood by the people of the Straits except by

interpreters. I have seen one of these natives just as little able to

make himself understood by the natives of Faro, as if he had been

suddenly removed to some very distant country instead of only 30 miles

away.

I have previously referred to the close friendship which usually

prevails between the inhabitants of the islands of Bougainville Straits,

linked together as they are by inter-marriages and by the possession of

a common language. But in the calmest seas there are occasional storms;

and I will proceed to relate an extraordinary chain of events which came

more or less under our observation whilst in this portion of the group.

Shortly before our return to Treasury in April, 1884, there had been a

terrible domestic tragedy, which at one time threatened to embroil all

the chiefs of the Straits in actual war. It appeared that Kopana, the

eldest son of Gorai had, in a fit of temporary madness, shot one of his

wives dead with his rifle, the unfortunate woman being a daughter of

Mule, the Treasury chief. On hearing the news, Mule at once crossed over

to Alu to exact vengeance on Kopana; but Gorai would not permit him to

harm his son; and it was arranged between the two chiefs that Mule

should be allowed to shoot one of the other wives of Kopana, as the

price of blood. Early one morning the Treasury chief, armed with his

snider rifle, took his way in a canoe up a passage I had often traversed

in my Rob Roy, and surprising his selected victim at work in a taro

patch, he shot her dead. At the same time he wounded her male attendant,

an elderly native named Malakolo, the bullet passing through the left

shoulder-joint from behind. When I saw this man six or seven weeks

afterwards, he was fast recovering from the injury, although with a

useless limb. Kopana, who is a headstrong son and beyond his father’s

control, naturally resented this act of Mule, and appears to have

meditated a descent on Treasury. Collecting his followers and the

remainder of his wives, he disappeared on what was given out as a

tortoise-shell expedition. We found the Treasury people in a great

dread of the daily arrival of Kopana; and I had some difficulty in

getting natives to accompany me in my excursions about the island. They

did not care to leave the vicinity of the village; and I found many of

the bush-paths familiar to me in the previous year partly overgrown.

Apparently through a sense of shame, Mule and his natives avoided

telling us anything about the act of retaliation; they were, however,

loud in their endeavours to cast aspersions on Kopana. On our arrival at

Alu, we learned the truth from Gorai to whom Mule had sent a native, who

took a passage with us, asking him not to be too communicative in case

we made inquiries. As it happened, however, the Treasury native was kept

on board, and Lieutenant Oldham, on landing, learned the part Mule had

played. Kopana was apparently quite conscious of his own responsibility

in the matter, as he had left a present with Gorai to be given to the

captain of any man-of-war who should come to punish him. Thus closed the

first scene of this tragedy.

Whilst we lay at anchor off Gorai’s village, it was evident that there

was trouble brewing. The natives accompanying me in my geological

excursions carried arms contrary to their usual practice. On the same

day the two principal villages were found deserted; and Gorai shifted

his residence to another islet. Rumours became rife that the Treasury

and Shortland natives had met with bloodshed; but the men we questioned

made so many wilful misstatements that it was impossible to learn what

had really happened. At length the truth came out. Being in Gorai’s

house one morning, I was told by the chief that his son had been

attacked five days before by the Treasury natives on the islet of

Tuluba, off the west coast of Alu, that Kopana’s canoe had returned

without his master, bringing a man and a woman badly wounded, and that

he shortly expected the return of two large war-canoes which he had sent

to the scene of the encounter. These two canoes returned whilst I was

talking to the chief on the beach, bringing a few more survivors but

without Kopana. The old chief then took it for granted that his eldest

son was dead, and in telling me so showed no emotion whatever. In the

evening, however, we learned, to our astonishment, that Kopana had

returned, having not been engaged in the fray. It seemed that at the

time of the encounter he was on a neighbouring islet. After some

difficulty, I was able to get an account of the affair.

Two Treasury war-canoes, it appears, attempted to land at Tuluba Islet

one evening, where the crews were going to encamp for the night.

Ostensibly the Treasury men were on their way to Bougainville to buy

spears; but since they were led by Olega, the brother of Mule and the

fighting-chief of the island, it is probable that they were intending a

descent on Alu from this islet of Tuluba. When the Treasury men

discovered Kopana’s party were already there, the fighting at once

began. During the conflict, for which the Alu natives were ill-prepared,

seeing that they were largely composed of Kopana’s wives, one of the

Treasury canoes was dashed to pieces on a reef and all the occupants

were thrown into the water. In this unequal contest, the Alu natives had

a man and a woman killed and a man and a woman wounded, both the women

being wives of Kopana. In addition four other of Kopana’s wives were

captured by the Treasury men, who returned to their own island in the

remaining canoe with a loss of four men wounded, of whom one

subsequently died.

The unfortunate wives of Kopana had indeed borne the brunt from the very

beginning. Within two months, three of them had suffered violent death,

one of them was wounded apparently beyond recovery, and four had been

carried off prisoners to Treasury. The singular feature of this breach

between the Treasury and Alu natives, was that the animosity of the

former was directed against Gorai’s eldest son and not against the old

chief, his father, who did not think it incumbent on him to interfere

except for the purpose of pacifying the two parties.

I visited the two wounded brought back to Alu. Five days had already

elapsed since the fight, and I found the wounds of both in a horrible

condition. The wife of Kopana had a severe tomahawk wound of the thigh

just above the knee, smashing the bone and implicating the joint. The

man had a rifle-bullet wound through the fleshy part of the thigh and a

pistol-bullet wound in the opposite groin. Nothing had been done in

either case, and after the lapse of five days in a tropical climate, the

condition of the wounds could be scarcely described. I was allowed to do

but little, and considered recovery in either case most improbable.

Both, however, recovered to my great astonishment. I found afterwards,

on visiting the wounded at Treasury, that one man had been shot through

the elbow-joint by one of his own party.

The subsequent events in connection with this outbreak of hostilities

in the Straits may be soon related. Although there was now open war

between Alu and Treasury, it assumed a passive character, each side

awaiting or expecting an attack from the other. Gorai was much concerned

at this turn of events, seeing that, as he told me, he thought he had

come to an amicable arrangement with Mule when he allowed him to take

the life of one of his son’s wives. The canoe-houses at Alu were usually

filled during the day by a number of natives, all carrying their

tomahawks and debating on the topic of the day. In the midst of them I

once found Gorai talking in his quiet way to an attentive circle of

armed natives. In the meanwhile the Treasury natives held a feast in

celebration of their success; and the four wives of Kopana were

distributed about the village, but they experienced no ill treatment. In

a few weeks the animosity displayed between the peoples of the two

islands began to cool down; and it soon became evident that the war was

one only in name. At length peace was once more restored. In the

beginning of October a number of Treasury natives came over to the west

coast of Alu where Gorai was then residing, bringing with them Mule’s

principal wife, Bita, the sister of the Alu chief, together with a large

present of bananas, taro, and other vegetables; and lastly, what was the

most significant act of all, they brought with them the four wives of

Kopana who had been captured on the islet of Tuluba. Gorai told me that

amity was now perfectly restored, and that he was going to exchange

visits with the Treasury chief to confirm the compact. Fortunately for

the happiness of the natives of Bougainville Straits, war rarely

disturbs the peaceful atmosphere in which they live.

I cannot doubt that, in the lives of the natives of these straits, we

have the brighter side of the existence of the Solomon Islander; and

this result may, I think, be attributed in the main to the influence of

Gorai, the Alu chief, who in his intercourse with white men, not always

the best fitted to represent their colour, as I need scarcely remark,

has learned some lessons in his own crude way which he could hardly have

learned under any other conditions. Natives of the islands of the

Straits can count with some confidence on the tenure of their lives, but

this is simply due to the influence of the name of the Alu chief. And

yet, however secure the surroundings of a native may be, he will never

be entirely off his guard. Suspicion is a quality inherent in his mind,

and it shows itself in most of the actions of his life. Even of those

natives, who, in the capacity of interpreters, lived on board the ship

for weeks together, one was always keeping watch over his comrades

during the long hours of the night whenever we were at any anchorage

away from their own island; and I have been told by the officers in

charge of the detached surveying parties, that even after a hard day’s

work in the boat, they have found their natives keeping a self-imposed

watch during the night.

I pass on now to the subject of the power of the “tambu,” or “taboo” as

it is more usually termed. The tambu ban constitutes the real authority

of a petty chief in times of peace. In the eastern islands, the tambu

sign is often two sticks crossed and placed in the ground. In such a

manner, the St. Christoval native secures his patch of ground from

intrusion. In the islands of Bougainville Straits, posts six to eight

feet in height, rudely carved in the form of the head and face, are

erected facing sea-ward on the beach of a village to keep off enemies

and sickness. Similar posts are erected on the skirts of a plantation of

cocoa-nut palms to warn off intruders. On one occasion, whilst ascending

the higher part of a stream in Treasury, my natives unexpectedly came

upon the faint footprint of a bushman; and my sheath-knife was at once

borrowed by the chief’s eldest son, who happened to be one of the party,

to cut out a face in the soft rock as a tambu mark for the bushman, or

in other words to preserve the stream. I have only touched on the

exercise of the right of tambu in its narrowest sense. Scattered about

in the pages of this work will be found numerous allusions to customs

which would be comprised under this head in its widest meaning: for the

power of the tambu is but the power of a code which usually prohibits

and rarely commands; and in enumerating its restrictions and defining

its limits, one would be in reality describing a negative system of

public and private etiquette. It is worthy of note, that the term

“tambu” is not included in the vocabulary of the language of the natives

of Bougainville Straits, its equivalent being “olatu.”

It may be here apposite to make some observations on the slavery which

is practised in connection with the bush-tribes of these islands. As

already remarked, a wide distinction usually prevails in the Solomon

Group between the inhabitants of the coast and those of the interior;

and although this distinction is most evident in the case of the larger

islands, it also prevails, but to a less degree, in those of smaller

size. It is a noteworthy fact that the bushmen are always looked down

upon by their brethren of the coast. “Man-bush” is with the latter a

term of reproach, implying stupidity and crass ignorance. I have

frequently heard this epithet applied to natives who handled their

canoes in an awkward manner or who stumbled in their walk whilst

accompanying me in my excursions. On one occasion, when trying to obtain

stone axes from the natives of Alu, I was referred with a smile to the

bushmen of the neighbouring island of Bougainville, who still employ

these tools. In the larger islands the bush-tribes and the coast natives

wage an unceasing warfare, in which the latter are usually the

aggressors and the victors--the bushmen captured during these raids

either affording materials for the cannibal feast or being detained in

servitude by their captors. But there prevails in the group a recognized

system of slave-traffic, in which a human being becomes a marketable

commodity--the equivalent being represented in goods either of native or

of foreign manufacture. This custom which came under the notice of the

officers of Surville’s expedition, during their visit to Port Praslin in

Isabel, in 1769,[12] obtains under the same conditions at the present

time. These natives were in the habit of making voyages of ten and

twelve days’ duration with the object of exchanging men for “fine cloths

covered with designs,” articles which were manufactured by a race of

people much fairer than their own, who were in all probability the

inhabitants of Ontong Java.

[12] “Discoveries to the south-east of New Guinea,” by M. Fleurieu,

p. 143, Eng. edit.

The servitude to which the victims of this traffic are doomed is not

usually an arduous one. But there is one grave contingency attached to

his thraldom which must be always before the mind of the captive,

however lightly his chains of service may lie upon him. When a head is

required to satisfy the offended honour of a neighbouring chief, or when

a life has to be sacrificed on the completion of a tambu-house or at the

launching of a new war-canoe, the victim chosen is usually the man who

is not a free-born native of the village. He may have been bought as a

child and have lived amongst them from his boyhood up, a slave only in

name, and enjoying all the rights of his fellow natives. But no feelings

of compassion can save him from his doom; and the only consideration

which he receives at the hands of those with whom he may have lived on

terms of equality for many years is to be found in the circumstance that

he gets no warning of his fate.

There are in Treasury several men and women who, originally bought as

slaves from the people of Bouka and Bougainville, now enjoy apparently

the same privileges and freedom of action as their fellow islanders. It

is sometimes not a matter of much difficulty to single out the slaves

amongst a crowd of natives. On one occasion I engaged a canoe of Faro

men to take me to a distant part of their island: and very soon after we

started I became aware from the cowed and sullen condition of one of the

crew that he was a slave. On inquiry I learned that this man had been

captured when a boy in the island of Bougainville, and I was informed

that if he was to return to his native place--a bush village named

Kiata--he would undoubtedly be killed. Although in fact a slave, I

concluded from the bearing of the other men towards him that his bondage

was not a very hard one; and he evidently appeared to enjoy most of the

rights of a native of the common class. Sukai, however, for such was his

name, had to make himself generally useful in the course of the day; and

when at the close of the excursion we were seated inside the house of a

man who provided us with a meal of boiled taro, sweet potatoes, and

bananas, he was served with his repast on the beach outside.

Mule, the Treasury chief, had adopted a little Bougainville bush-boy,

named Sapeku, who was purchased when very young from his friends. In

1883 he was six or seven years old, and was the constant companion of

the sons of the chief. He was a fat chubby little urchin, with woolly

hair, and was known on board under the name of “Tubby.” His wild

excitable disposition full of suspicion showed to great contrast with

the calmer and more confident demeanour of his companions. He was,

however, a general favourite with us, although I should add he did not

possess half the pluck of his associates. Mule also possessed, at the

time of our visit, a young girl, twelve or thirteen years old, who had

been not long before purchased from the Bougainville natives.

I have previously referred to the existence of bushmen on some of the

smaller islands. In the interior of Treasury there are a few hamlets

containing each two or three families of bushmen, who live quite apart

from the other natives of the island. On more than one occasion I

experienced the hospitality of these bush families, who in matters of

dress are even less observant than the harbour natives. They are

probably the remnants of the original bushmen who occupied this island.

Over our pipes, I used frequently to converse with the natives on the

subject of the past history of their island; and I gleaned from them

that the enterprising race at present dominant in the Bougainville

Straits came originally from the islands immediately to the eastward,

using Treasury as a stepping-stone to the Shortlands and Faro, and

ousting or exterminating the bushmen they found in the possession of

these islands.

I will turn for a moment to the subject of slavery in the eastern

islands of the group. In Ugi it is the practice of infanticide which has

given rise to a slave-commerce regularly conducted with the natives of

the interior of St. Christoval. Three-fourths of the men of this island

were originally bought as youths to supply the place of the natural

offspring killed in infancy. But such natives when they attain manhood

virtually acquire their independence, and their original purchaser has

but little control over them. On page 42, I have made further reference

to this subject.

Connected in the manner above shown with the subject of slavery is the

practice of cannibalism. The completion of a new tambu-house is

frequently celebrated among the St. Christoval natives by a cannibal

feast. Residents in that part of the group tell me that if the victim is

not procured in a raid amongst the neighbouring tribes of the interior,

some man is usually selected from those men in the village who were

originally purchased by the chief. The doomed man is not enlightened as

to the fate which awaits him, and may, perhaps, have been engaged in the

erection of the very building at the completion of which his life is

forfeited. The late Mr. Louis Nixon,[13] one of those traders whose name

should not be forgotten amongst the pioneers who, in working for

themselves, have worked indirectly for the good of their successors in

the Solomon Group, once recounted to me a tragical incident of this kind

on the island of Guadalcanar, of which he was an unwilling spectator.

Whilst looking out of the window of his house one afternoon, he observed

a native walk up to another standing close to the window and engage him

in conversation. A man then stole up unperceived, and raising his heavy

club above his head, struck the intended victim lifeless to the ground.

Knowing too well the nature and purpose of the deed, Mr. Nixon turned

away quite sickened by the sight.

[13] Mr. Nixon died at Santa Anna in the end of 1882.

The natives of the small island of Santa Anna enjoy the reputation of

being abstainers from human flesh: but, inasmuch, as Mai the war-chief

has acquired a considerable fortune, in a native’s point of view, by

following the profitable calling of purveyor of human flesh to the

man-eaters of the adjacent coasts of St. Christoval--a trade in which he

is ably assisted by those who accompany him on his foraging

expeditions--we can hardly preserve this nice distinction between the

parts taken by the contractor and his customers in this extraordinary

traffic. I learned from Captain Macdonald that in their abstinence from

human flesh, the Santa Anna natives are not actuated by any dislike of

anthropophagy in itself; but that the custom has fallen into abeyance

since the chief laid the tambu-ban on human flesh several years ago, on

account of a severe epidemic of sickness having followed a cannibal

feast. On one occasion through the instrumentality of this resident,

Lieutenant Oldham had the satisfaction of rescuing two St. Christoval

natives whom Mai was carefully keeping in anticipation of the wants of

the man-eaters of Cape Surville. As the result of an interview held with

this chief, the two prisoners were sent on board the “Lark;” but Mai

gave them up with a very bad grace, protesting that he was being robbed

of his own property. It is difficult to speculate on the reflections of

the victim as he lives on from day to day in constant expectation of his

fate. I am told that there is a faint gleam of tender feeling shown in

the case of a man who, by long residence in the village, has almost come

to be looked upon as one of themselves. He is allowed to remain in

ignorance of the dreaded moment until the last: and, perhaps, he may be

standing on the beach assisting in the launching of the very canoe in

which he is destined to take his final journey, when suddenly he is laid

hold of, and in a few moments more he is being ferried across to the

man-eaters of the opposite coast. All persons whom I have met that have

had a lengthened experience of the St. Christoval natives confirm these

cannibal practices. They may sometimes be observed with all the horrible

preliminaries which have been described in the cases of other Pacific

groups; whilst, on the other hand, it may be the habit to purchase and

partake of human flesh as an extra dainty in the daily fare.

Captain Redlich, master of the schooner “Franz,” who visited Makira on

the south side of St. Christoval in 1872, states that he found a dead

body in a war-canoe dressed and cooked whole. He was informed by Mr.

Perry, a resident, that he had seen as many as twenty bodies lying on

the beach dressed and cooked.[14] In 1865, Mr. Brenchley noticed at

Wano, on the north coast of this island, the skulls of twenty-five

bushmen hanging up under the roof of the tambu-house, all of which

showed the effects of the tomahawk and all had been eaten.[15] At the

present time it is not an easy matter for any person not resident in the

group to obtain ocular evidence of cannibalism, since the natives have

become aware of the white man’s aversion to the custom. I have, however,

frequently seen the arm and leg bones of the victim consumed at the

opening of a new tambu-house, as they are usually hung up over the

entrance or in some other part of the building. The natives, however,

are generally reluctant to talk much about these matters; and I believe

the residents, in such matters, prefer to trust more to the testimony of

their own eyes than to the statements of the natives.

[14] Journal of the Royal Geographical Society for 1874 (vol. 44),

p. 31.

[15] “Cruise of H.M.S. ‘Curaçoa,’” by J. L. Brenchley.

I have previously referred to the death of the son of Taki the Wano

chief, who was attacked by a shark whilst fishing on the St. Christoval

reefs. When we arrived at Ugi in April, 1883, shortly after this event,

we learned that his death would probably lead to a further sacrifice of

life, and that a human victim from some neighbouring hill-tribe would be

required to remove the tambu-ban, or in other words to propitiate the

shark-god. At the completion of the time of mourning, a gathering of the

tribes of the district known as a _béa_ was to be held at Wano; and I

obtained from Mr. Stephens of Ugi the following particulars of this

singular custom. From a raised staging some fifteen feet in height, each

of the warriors of any renown addresses in turn the assembled people.

The gathering is composed not only of his own tribesmen but also of

parties of fighting men from all the neighbouring villages, each party

standing aloof from the others. The orator, declaiming on the valour of

his own people and on his individual prowess, soon works himself into a

condition of excitement, and should any tribe be there represented with

whom there may have been some recent cause of ill-feeling, it is

probably made the object of the taunts of the speaker. The assembled

natives, who are all armed, soon participate in the excitement. The

people of the village support their champion, and openly display their

ill will against those at whom the diatribes of the orator have been

directed. The suspected strangers return the taunts; and the feeling of

irritation reaches its acme when a threatening gesture or the throwing

of a spear sets ablaze the suppressed passions. Every man darts into the

bush and the village is empty in a moment. A desultory contest then

ensues in which the people of the village, who have generally the best

of it, pursue their visitors to the outskirts of their district; and

from henceforth a long period of hostility begins.

Such is not an uncommon sequence of a _béa_, and I am told that the

natives of the district, in which such a gathering is to be held, look

forward to it with considerable apprehension. A human body is usually

procured for these occasions; and the payment of the persons who

procured it is made from contributions collected at the _béa_. Each

leading chief endeavours to surpass his rival in the sum he gives; and

flinging his string of shell money down from the stage on which he

stands, he looks contemptuously at his rival’s party. The body is

apportioned out after the gathering is over; and if no contention has

arisen, all assembled partake of the feast. Taki told Mr. Stephens that

in order to obtain a body for his son’s _béa_, he would have to start on

another man-hunting expedition. A _béa_ was also soon to be held in Ugi

by Rora, the fighting chief of the village of Ete-ete, on behalf of his

brother who had died about two years before. Cannibalism is however

dying out in Ugi; and in this case a pig was to supply the place of a

human body.

Whilst the ship was anchored at Sulagina Bay on the north coast of St.

Christoval, I visited the village of that name and saw the chief who is

named Toro. He received me civilly and shook hands. Outside the front of

his house five skulls were hanging which belonged to some unfortunate

bushmen who had fallen at his hands. On inquiring of a native who spoke

a little English, I ascertained that their bodies had been

“kaied-kaied,” _i.e._, eaten, although it was with a little hesitation

that he admitted the fact. Numerous spears were thrust in among the pole

overhead which supported the roof, one or two of them being broken at

the point with some suspicious-looking dried-up substance still

adherent. The same native explained to me, in a matter-of-fact way, that

the points had broken off in the bellies of the victims.

Cannibalism is rarely if ever practised at the present day in the

islands of Bougainville Straits. The people of the western extremity of

Choiseul Island in the vicinity of Choiseul Bay are reputed by the

Treasury Islanders to be still cannibals. During our stay in this bay we

had no opportunity of satisfying ourselves in this matter. Bougainville,

however, who visited this bay in 1768, records, as I have previously

observed, that a human jaw, half-broiled, was found in one of the canoes

which had been deserted by the natives after the repulse of their

attack upon the French boats.[16] The Shortland natives accredit the

Bougainville people who live around the active volcano of Bagana with

the regular practice of cannibalism; and there can be little doubt that

this custom is extensively practised amongst the scarcely known

bush-tribes in the interior of this large island. Of the natives of New

Georgia or Rubiana, Captain Cheyne avers that human flesh forms their

chief article of diet; they were in his opinion, when he visited this

part of the group in 1844, the most treacherous and bloodthirsty race in

the Western Pacific.[17] These natives have of late years come more

under the direct influence of the traders and probably would merit now a

better name.

[16] “Voyage autour du Monde”; 2nd edit, augment; vol. ii., Paris,

1772.

[17] “A Description of Islands in the Western Pacific Ocean.” by A.

Cheyne (London, 1852).

I will close this chapter with a short account, to some extent

recapitulative, of the history of three natives of St. Christoval after

they were recruited by the boats of the Fiji labour-vessel “Redcoat” in

1882. It will serve to illustrate some points already alluded to.

Amongst the occupants of a tambu-house in which I slept on one occasion

in the village of Lawa, in the interior of St. Christoval, were five men

who were intending to offer themselves as recruits to the

government-agent of the “Redcoat.” Three of these men, one of whom was

the chief’s son, came under my observation again not many weeks after

they had been received on board the labour-vessel. They escaped from the

ship at Santa Anna, and seizing a canoe reached the adjoining coast of

St. Christoval. Here they were pursued by Mai, in his capacity of

purveyor of human flesh to the Cape Surville natives. Two of them were

captured; but the third, who was the chief’s son, had died at the hands

of a local chief, who, wishing to remove the tambu-ban arising from the

recent death of his wife, had effected his object by spearing his guest.

Mai returned to Santa Anna with his two captives, and immediately became

imbued with the idea that he had been insulted by the chief who, in

successfully removing the tambu-ban from the shade of his departed

spouse, had deprived him of one of his victims. Then the raid was

carried out, which I have already described, as having resulted in the

slaughter of three women and the chief of Fanarite. Mai now devoted his

attention to preparing his two prisoners for the market on the opposite

coast, and was thus employed when H.M.S. “Lark” arrived at Port Mary and

rescued the prisoners When these two natives were brought on board, I

at once recognised my tambu-house companions in the village of Lawa; and

I learned to my regret that the chief’s son, who had been killed, was

the sprightly young native who had on one occasion carried my geological

bag. It is but just to remark that under Mai’s care the condition of the

two prisoners had considerably improved since I last saw them. However,

their troubles were not all over. They were landed at Ugi; but the older

of the two, on hearing that his life would be probably required by the

people of his own village to atone for the death of the chief’s son,

preferred to remain at Ugi. A report reached me in the following year,

whether true or not I was unable to ascertain, that he had been killed

on returning to his village.

CHAPTER III.

THE FEMALE SEX--POLYGAMY--MODES OF BURIAL, ETC.

THE position of the female sex amongst the natives of the eastern

islands of the Solomon Group would appear to differ but little from the

position which it holds amongst races in a similar savage state. The

women are without doubt the drudges of the men, and pitiable examples of

this often came under my observation. On one occasion, when I was

returning to the coast from an excursion into the interior of St.

Christoval, I was accompanied by some half-a-dozen natives of both sexes

who were bringing down yams to sell to the traders on the beach. The men

were content with carrying their tomahawks; whilst the women followed up

with heavy loads of yams on their heads. When a feast is in preparation,

it is the work of the women to bring in the yams and taro from the

“patches,” which may be one or two miles away. In my excursions, I

frequently used to see at work in their “patches” these poor creatures,

whom drudgery had prematurely deprived of all their comeliness.

Women are excluded from the tambu-house. They are not permitted to

remain in the presence of a chief at his meal; and even the wife after

preparing her husband’s meal leaves her lord alone, returning to partake

of what remains after he has finished his repast. In the island of Santa

Catalina we found that we had temporarily received the rank of chief

when a bevy of young girls, who had been following us all the morning,

walked solemnly away as we began our lunch; but no sooner had we lit our

pipes than back came the little troop with smiling faces. In Ugi, a man

will never, if he can help it, pass under a tree that has fallen across

the path, for the reason that a woman may have stepped over it before

him. On one occasion, in the village of Sapuna, in Santa Anna, I saw a

man, whilst lighting his pipe, throw the piece of smouldering wood

contemptuously on the ground, when a woman, in order to light her own

pipe, stretched out her hand to take it from him.

The custom of infanticide throws a shade over not a few of these

islands. During my frequent walks over the island of Ugi, where one may

pass through a village without seeing a single child in arms, I often

experienced a feeling of relief in leaving behind such a village where

the prattle of children is but rarely heard. In Ugi, infanticide is the

prevailing custom. When a man needs assistance in his declining years,

his props are not his own sons but youths obtained by purchase from the

St. Christoval natives, who, as they attain to manhood, acquire a

virtual independence, passing almost beyond the control of their

original owner. It is from this cause that but a small proportion of the

Ugi natives have been born on the island, three-fourths of them having

been brought as youths to supply the place of offspring killed in

infancy. Yet some bright experiences, brighter, perhaps, in the

contrast, recur to my mind. In the small island of Orika (Santa

Catalina) the visitor will be followed about by a little train of

children, of both sexes, with smiling, intelligent faces, and clad only

in the garb which nature gave them. Whilst having an evening pipe in

front of the house of Haununo, the young chief, Mr. W. Macdonald and I

were surrounded by a varied throng of the natives of the village, both

old and young. Numerous young children, from babes in arms to those

three or four years old, formed no inconsiderable proportion of the

number around us. Bright-looking lads, eight or nine years of age, stood

smoking their pipes as gravely as Haununo himself; and even the smallest

babe in its father’s arms caught hold of his pipe and began to suck

instinctively. The chief’s son, a little shapeless mass of flesh, a few

months old, was handed about from man to man with as much care as if he

had been composed of something brittle. It would have taken many

shiploads of “trade,” as Mr. Macdonald remarked to me, to have purchased

the hopeful heir of the chief of Orika.

But to return to the subject of the position held by the women. When

away with a recruiting party from the labour-ship “Redcoat,” on the St.

Christoval coast, I was present at the parting on the beach of six

natives, who had elected to proceed to Fiji to work for a term of three

years on the plantations. But little regret was observable in the faces

of those whose friends were leaving them. Son parted with father, and

brother with brother with apparently as little concern as if they were

merely parting for the hour. The mother or sister played no part in

this scene, a characteristic negative feature of the social life of

these natives. However, amongst the six natives was an elderly woman who

was following her husband to Fiji; and her departure was evidently

keenly felt by a small knot of female companions on the beach. One poor

creature stood at the edge of the water, looking wistfully towards the

boat as it was being pulled away, and crying more after the manner of a

fretful child. It was the bond of a true affection that knit together

the heart of these poor women. In this episode I saw, to employ those

beautiful lines of Milton,

“The sable cloud

Turn forth her silver lining on the night.”

In it was evinced the only sign of the tenderer feelings which was

displayed in the whole of that day’s proceedings.

It is necessary for me to touch lightly on a subject, which, although

less pleasing, is none the less essential to the short sketch which I

have presented to my readers of the domestic relations of the natives in

the eastern islands. Female chastity is a virtue that would sound

strangely in the ear of the native. Amongst their many customs which

when narrated strike with such a discordant note on the ears of the

European reader, the inhabitants of St. Christoval and the adjacent

islands have a usage which sufficiently enlightens us as to the

unrestrained character of their code of morality. For two or three years

after a girl has become eligible for marriage, she distributes her

favours amongst all the young men of the village. Should she be

unwilling to accept the addresses of anyone, it is but necessary for her

admirer to make her parents some present. Fathers offer their daughters

to the white man in the hope of a remunerative return; and the white

men, sometimes less scrupulous in their advances, provoke the hostility

of the natives, and not unfrequently a lamentable massacre results.

Conjugal fidelity is usually preserved in the limits of the same

community; but the men of Santa Anna, when they exchange their wives for

those of the men of the adjoining St. Christoval coast, see in such a

transaction no loosening of the marriage-tie, and restore their wives to

their original position on their return to their homes.

In considering the domestic relations of the inhabitants of Bougainville

Straits, we enter upon a more agreeable topic. The white man on first

visiting these islands is struck with the shyness of the women as

compared with those of St. Christoval and its adjacent islands. The

unmarried girls are rarely seen; whilst, on the other hand, in Santa

Anna and Santa Catalina there appears to be no restriction placed on

their movements. The following incident in the island of Faro will serve

to illustrate this shyness. Whilst following a path in the interior of

the island, unattended by any companion, I suddenly surprised a woman

sitting on a log with a child in her lap. She bolted away into the wood

leaving the child, a little boy three or four years of age, on the

ground in the middle of the path. The little urchin at once set up a

terrific yell; but a present of a gilt necklace softened the tone of his

distress, although it did not remove his fears. However, I passed along

and soon had the satisfaction of hearing the mother returning to her

child.

This fear of the white man is soon dispelled by kindly treatment. When I

first visited Treasury Island my entrance into the village was the

signal for every woman to rush into her house, and I could only catch a

glimpse of their retreating figures. This shyness soon wore away during

the lengthened visits of the “Lark;” and in a short time when I walked

through the village I was surrounded by a troop of young boys shouting

out my name of “Dokus” or “Rokasy” at the top of their voices. This was

the signal for all who were indoors to turn out to greet me. The old

people would hobble out to the door; and the married women with their

babes in their arms would walk up to me calling me by name and holding

up their little ones for me to see, as if only too proud to show me the

confidence the visit of the “Lark” had inspired.

The females in these islands of the Straits perform most of the work in

the “patches” or plantations. Towards the evening, they may usually be

seen returning in their canoes from the more distant “patches” bringing

home a goodly quantity of taro, bananas, and other vegetables. There is

generally a man in the stern who steers with a paddle; whilst the crew

of eight or ten women, sitting in pairs, paddle briskly along with their

light paddles.

The powerful chiefs of the islands of Bougainville Straits usually

possess a large number of wives of whom only the few that retain their

youth and comeliness enjoy much of the society of their lord. The

majority, having been supplanted in the esteem of their common husband,

have sunk into a condition of drudgery, finding their employment and

their livelihood in toiling for the master whose affections they once

possessed. I learned from Gorai, the Shortland chief, who has between

eighty and a hundred wives, that the main objection he has against

missionaries settling on his islands is, that they would insist on his

giving up nearly all his wives, thereby depriving him of those by whose

labour his plantations are cultivated and his household supplied with

food. A great chief, he remarked, required a large staff of workers to

cultivate his extensive lands; or, in other words, numerous women to

work in his plantations and to bring the produce home. Such a plea for

polygamy is in this condition of society somewhat plausible. The

domestic establishment of such a chief may be compared in its internal

economy to a social community of bees. The head of the society is, in

this case, a male who, whilst living on the fat produce of his lands and

increasing his species, performs no active office for the good of the

community. The workers consist of his numerous cast-off wives, who

having been supplanted in their lord’s affections as their personal

attractions diminished in the course of years, have at length subsided

into the position of drudges to procure food for the king and his

progeny.

Mule’s marital establishment is on a smaller scale than that of the more

powerful Shortland chief. This Treasury chief possesses between

twenty-five and thirty wives, and has numerous young sons who were my

frequent companions during my excursions in this island. In both

establishments there is a favourite wife who exercises some authority

over the others, and is known among white men as the queen. The

principal wives are generally distinguished from the others by a more

dignified deportment, a slim graceful figure, and more delicate

features. The coarser features, bigger limbs, and more ungainly persons

of many of the wives at once mark the women of more common origin. The

chief secures the fidelity of his wives by the summary punishment of

death, suspicion being tantamount to proof, and an unwary action being

held presumptive of guilt. Many of their wives are obtained by purchase

from the Bougainville natives; whilst others represent the tribute owed

by some of the smaller chiefs.

The majority of the Treasury men have two wives who are usually widely

separated by age. They are originally obtained by making a handsome

present to the parents. Each wife in working on her husband’s land has

her own patch allotted to her to which she confines her labours. My

association with the natives of Treasury gave me some insight into their

social life, in which, I should add, the women occupy a somewhat better

position than in the islands we visited to the eastward. Men have

introduced me to their wives with an air of politeness which supplied an

index of the social status of their helpmates: and to show that the

position of authority may be reversed--although from the absence of

clothing one cannot employ the expressive phrase applied to those women

who rule their husbands in more civilized lands--I may here observe that

on one occasion an able-bodied man complained to me that his wife

chastised him on the previous night.

I had one very pleasing experience of the domestic establishment of the

Treasury chief. Having informed Mule that I was desirous to witness the

manufacture of the cooking-pots employed by the natives, he despatched

four of his wives into the interior of the island to get the clay; and

in due time I was summoned to his house where I found myself in the

midst of a dozen of his wives who were already hard at work, for the

women are the potters here as in other parts of “savagedom.” Mule’s

wives received me with much politeness, and made me sit down on a mat to

watch the proceedings, being evidently much pleased with the idea of

exhibiting their skill. For about five minutes there was but little work

done as my curiosity led me to look more closely into the different

steps of the process, a proceeding which caused much hilarity and

elicited frequent exclamations of “tion drakono,” often preceded by

“Dokus,” which implied that the doctor was a very good man. At last,

after I had smiled on them to the best of my ability, and had gained

their further approbation by taking on my knee a little well-scrubbed

urchin that could hardly toddle, who in the most matter-of-fact manner

made a vigorous onslaught on my chin and then went tooth-and-nail at my

shirt-cuff, all in the best of humour and seemingly in an absent-minded

kind of fashion as though its little mind was already occupied by far

weightier matters--after all this, the more serious part of the

entertainment became fairly under way. At its conclusion, I gave the

principal wife a quantity of beads and a number of jews-harps to be

distributed among her companions.

The marital establishment of Tomimas, one of the principal Faro chiefs,

is small as compared with those of Gorai and Mule. He has only four

wives who are named respectively, Domari, Duia, Bose, and Omakau, the

first being the mother of the chief’s eldest son, Kopana, an intelligent

young man about twenty-two years of age.

In connection with the names of the women of Bougainville Straits, I

should observe that there was always some reluctance on the part of the

men to give me such names; and that when they did so, they usually

uttered them in a low tone as though it was not the proper thing to

speak of the women by name to others. This is especially noticeable when

a man of the common class is asked the name of one of the chief’s wives.

On more than one occasion, when referring by name to the chief’s

principal wife in the course of a conversation with a native, I learned

from the look of surprise, which the mention of the name elicited, that

I had, unwittingly, been guilty of a breach of etiquette.

During the surveying season of 1883, which we passed among the islands

of Bougainville Straits, we were witnesses of the mourning ceremonials

that were observed in connection with the death of Kaika, the principal

wife of the Shortland chief, or the queen as Gorai was pleased to call

her. It was in the beginning of July that I first made the acquaintance

of Kaika, Gorai having asked me to visit her as she was suffering from

some indisposition. A month passed away before I again saw my royal

patient, and on this occasion the chief accompanied me to his house.

Here I found Kaika quite recovered from her illness, a result which she

attributed to some medicine which I had given her. She was reclining in

a broken down easy-chair, the gift of a trader, engaged in working an

armlet of beads, and clad only in the usual “sulu” or

waist-handkerchief. In age Kaika was probably between 25 and 30, her

general appearance being that of a woman superior in caste to most of

her fellow-wives. For a native, her features were good and regular, her

figure slim but well proportioned, her carriage graceful. Her clean skin

and bushy head of hair, dyed a magenta hue by the use of red ochreous

earth, added to the general effect of her appearance.

Whilst sitting down beside Gorai and his spouse, the latter showed me

her little boy who was nearly blind. I was much struck with the

tenderness displayed in the manner of both the parents towards their

little son, who, seated on his mother’s lap, placed his hand in that of

his father, when he was directed to raise his eyes towards the light for

my inspection.

The work of the ship took us away from Alu; and when we returned after

an absence of five weeks, we learned that Kaika was dying. Landing on

the ensuing day to see if I could be of any service, I was told that

Kaika was dead; and as I stepped out of my Rob Roy, I received a message

from Gorai to come and visit him. I found the old chief seated on the

ground in front of his house, looking very dismal. Near by, there were

nine or ten of his wives all well past the prime of life, withered and

haggish, with heads shaven and faces plastered with lime as a token of

mourning. They were squatting on the ground, and were engaged in droning

out a dismal chant, reminding me of a group of witches. Accompanying

Gorai into his house, I found there a numerous gathering of his wives

all with their faces plastered with lime; their dead-white features,

peering strangely at us through the gloom of the building, gave the

whole scene quite an uncanny look. The old chief appeared to feel the

loss of his favourite wife and broke down more than once when talking to

me of her. He told me that the end came when we dropped our anchor in

the bay, and he excused himself on account of his grief from coming off

to the ship--“too much cry,” as he remarked of himself to me. When I was

leaving him, he asked me on the arrival of the ship at Treasury to

inform Mule of his loss, Kaika being the sister of the Treasury chief,

and to request that his own sister, Bita, who was Mule’s principal wife,

should come and visit him. Returning to my canoe I passed some of

Gorai’s head-men who had plastered their foreheads and a part of their

cheeks with lime, an observance, however, which was not followed by

either the chief or his sons.

The next morning most of the men of the village were engaged in fishing

on the reef to obtain material for a great funeral feast that was to be

held in the afternoon. When I landed with Lieutenant Leeper in the

latter part of the day, we found ourselves on the beach in the midst of

about a hundred men carrying their tomahawks, and assembled together on

the occasion of the queen’s demise. On entering the chief’s grounds,

which are tabooed to all the men of the village except those on the

staff of the chief, we came upon about eighty women performing a funeral

dance. Some of them were Gorai’s wives; whilst others were the principal

women of the neighbouring villages. With their faces white with lime

they formed a large circle, in the centre of which were four posts

placed erect in the ground, each about ten feet high, charred on one

side and rudely carved in imitation of the human head, two of them

painted red and two white. Enclosed in the ring and grouped around the

posts were six women bearing in their hands the personal belongings of

the deceased, such as her basket, cushion, &c. To the slow and measured

time of the beats of a wooden drum, a hollowed log struck by a man

outside the circle, the dancers of the ring adapted their movements,

which consisted merely in raising the feet in turns and gently stamping

on the ground. The central group of women danced around the posts,

partly skipping, partly hopping, each woman holding up before her the

article she bore, and regulating her steps to the beats of the drum. Now

and then the man at the drum quickened his time, and the movements of

the women of the ring became more spirited; whilst the central group of

dancers skipped more actively around, the foremost woman sprinkling at

each bound handfuls of lime over the dancers of the ring. As the weather

was rainy, many of the women--all of whom wore a “sulu” reaching down to

the knees--had their shoulders covered by their mats of pandanus leaves.

This dance was repeated on the following day but with a smaller number

of dancers. I was anxious to ascertain the manner in which the body had

been disposed; but beyond the fact that interment had taken place in the

ground some distance away, I could learn but little. It is, however,

very probable that the body was first burned between the charred posts,

around which the dance was performed, which would have served as

supports for the funeral pyre. Further reference to this custom will be

found on page 51.

In making inquiries as to the obsequies paid to the dead queen, I was

much struck with the reluctance of the natives to refer to the event.

They mentioned the name of the deceased in a low subdued tone as if it

were wrong to utter the names of the dead. This mysterious dread which

is associated with the mention of the names of the dead is found, as Dr.

Tylor points out in his “Early History of Mankind” (3rd edit., p. 143),

amongst many races of men. The example of the Australian native who

_refuses_ to utter them may be here cited as an extreme instance of this

superstition.

Three days after the death of Kaika, all the men of Alu, with the

exception of the chief and his sons, cut off their hair close to the

scalp as a symbol of mourning for the deceased, an observance which

produced a surprising change in the appearance of men whom I had been

familiar with as the owners of luxuriant bushy periwigs. A similar

custom of either shaving the scalp or of cutting the hair close

prevailed in other islands of the group which we visited, as at Simbo

and Ugi. In the latter island the shaving is restricted to the posterior

half of the scalp. With this digression I will continue my account of

the mourning ceremonials observed at the death of Kaika.

The news of the death of the principal wife of the Alu chief was soon

carried to the other islands of Bougainville Straits. Visits of

condolence were paid to Gorai by Tomimas and Kurra-kurra, the two Faro

chiefs; and parties of the women of Faro went to display in person their

sympathy with the Alu chief on the occasion of his bereavement. We were

the first to convey the news to Treasury; and as Mule stepped on deck

shortly after the ship had come to an anchor in Blanche Harbour, I

informed him of his sister’s death and of Gorai’s request that his own

sister Bita should go and visit him at Alu. The news of Kaika’s death

was received by her brother with much composure. Several weeks passed

away before Bita could accomplish the long canoe voyage to her brother’s

island, as it is only practicable for a canoe in settled weather. There

was a sudden demand for pairs of scissors in Treasury when the news of

the death of Gorai’s wife became generally known. Mule, his sons, and

several of the men of the island showed their regard for the deceased by

neatly trimming their bushy periwigs, not cropping their hair close as

in the case of the Alu natives; and in accordance with custom the wives

of the chief plastered their faces with lime.

A week after our arrival at Treasury feasts were prepared as offerings

to the Evil Spirit--the _nito paitena_ of the natives--to appease the

wrath of that deity. For to his anger, as I was informed by an

intelligent native named Erosini, the death of Kaika was attributed.

Whilst walking through the village one evening, I came upon the

“remains” of one of these feasts. The essence of the viands had

doubtless been extracted by this direful spirit, inasmuch as I learned

on the authority of Erosini that the “devilo,” as he termed him, had

already satiated his appetite; but to the eyes of ordinary mortals like

myself, the dishes had not been touched. However, it was not long before

numerous natives were helping themselves freely to the roasted opossums,

boiled fish, taro, bananas, etc., which formed the feast. Although

pressed to join in the banquet, I did not take to the idea of eating a

vicarious meal for his infernal majesty; and I resisted the persuasion

of one of my would-be hosts who, having scooped up with his hands a

mixture of mashed taro and cocoa-nut scrapings, licked his fingers well

and remarked it was very good “kai-kai.” On the following day an old

rudely carved tambu-post that had been erected on the beach was used as

a target, at which, from a distance of about fifteen paces, the natives

fired their muskets and discharged their arrows. This proceeding, so

we learned, was to intimidate the “devilo” in case the feasts of the

previous day had not propitiated him.

[Illustration: MEMORIAL OF A TREASURY CHIEF.

(_To face page 51._)]

The mode of burial employed by the natives of the islands of

Bougainville Straits varies according to the position of the deceased.

The bodies of the chiefs and of any members of their families are

usually burned; and the ashes are deposited together with the skull and

sometimes the thigh-bones in a cairn on some sacred islet, or are placed

in charge of the reigning chief. The natives were always reticent on

this subject, a circumstance which prevented my ascertaining how the

skull and thigh-bones were preserved from the flames. In the village of

Treasury there are some memorials of departed chiefs, one of which is

shown in the accompanying engraving. The one in best condition is that

of the late chief, whose skull and thigh-bones were deposited on one of

the islets in the harbour. They evidently mark the site of the funeral

pyres. A wooden frame of the dimensions of a large coffin is placed on

the ground and contains some young plants and the club of the deceased

chief. Four posts charred on their inner sides and decorated on their

outer sides with patterns in red, white, and black, are placed one at

each corner of the frame. They are rudely carved at the top in the form

of a face, and in all respects resemble those around which the funeral

dance was performed at Alu, as described on page 49. A sprouting

cocoa-nut is placed at one end of the frame, and a club is placed erect

in the ground at the other end.

In the vicinity of Gorai’s house, I noticed three small enclosures,

apparently graves, two of them round and one oblong, and all fenced in

by a paling of sticks. Lying on the ground within each enclosure were

such articles as strings of trade-beads, clay-pipes, betel-nuts long

since dried up, and dishes of palm leaves such as the natives use for

serving up their food. A communicative old man informed me that a few

months before a woman and a girl belonging to the chief’s household had

died, and that their bodies had been first burned between four posts and

the ashes had been placed in the oblong enclosure. They bore, so he told

me, the pretty names of Événu and Siali. On my asking the reason of

placing articles such as beads and betel-nuts on the grave, he told me

that in addition cocoa-nuts and other food had been placed there

previously in accordance with the native custom, which the old man

endeavoured to explain by pointing his fingers towards the skies. I

should here mention that on the spot, where the body of Kaika had been

burned some months before, there was placed a wooden framework in the

form of a long box, the materials being obtained from a ship’s fittings.

Inside it were placed some beads and coloured calico.

The custom of depositing skulls in cairns on the points of islands,

which is prevalent in the eastern portion of the Solomon Group, is not

generally practised amongst the islands of Bougainville Straits: and I

rarely came upon them in my excursions. However, on an islet in Choiseul

Bay, I found two cairns, one of which was tenanted only by hermit-crabs

with their cast-off shells, and the other contained two skulls that had

apparently lain for years in their resting-place to which they were

attached by the tendrils of creeping plants. On the summit of Oima, I

came upon a heap of stones under which was supposed to be the remains of

a Bougainville native killed in a fight, but I failed to find any of his

bones after examining the heap.

The sea is generally chosen as the last resting-place for the natives

below the rank of chief in the islands of Bougainville Straits.

Lieutenant Malan, whilst engaged in sounding at the entrance of the Alu

anchorage, passed two large canoes in one of which were being conveyed,

for burial in deep water, the remains of a woman who had died during the

previous night. The relatives of the deceased accompanied the corpse,

but took no share in the paddling, being employed in wailing and

bemoaning their loss after the conventional manner of the Chinese. A

peculiar style of paddling was adopted by the funeral party; each man,

pausing after every stroke, partially arrested the motion of the canoe

by a backwater movement of his paddle.

In Simbo or Eddystone Island, the bodies of the dead are sometimes

placed amongst the large masses of rock which lie at the base of Middle

Hill on the west coast of the island. My attention was first attracted

to this custom by the stench that came from this spot as I passed it in

a canoe. Some human bones were observed on the reef which lies off the

anchorage. In the eastern islands the dead are often buried at sea. In

Ugi and in Florida the skulls are sometimes preserved in a cairn of

stones built on the edge of a sea cliff, or at the extremity of a point,

or in some remote islet. A dwarf cocoa-nut, which attains a height of

from eight to twelve feet, frequently marks the grave of the chief in

the island of Ugi. In one of the villages of this island I was shown the

shrine of a chief, a small house in which suspended from the roof in a

basket were the skulls of the chief and his wife concealed from view by

a screen of palm leaves. Some articles of food, including a portion of

an opossum, together with a large wooden bowl, were hung up before the

screen.

The burial place for men in the village of Sapuna in Santa Anna is an

oblong enclosure in the midst of the village which measures 24 by 18

feet, and is surrounded by a low wall of fragments of coral limestone.

In this space all the bodies are buried at a depth of five or six feet;

and after some time the skulls are exhumed and placed inside the wooden

figure of a shark about three feet in length, which is deposited in the

tambu-house. One of these wooden fish, which lay on the surface of the

burial ground at the time of my visit, had recently been removed from

the tambu-house on account of its being rotten through age, and the

skull was to be re-interred. The body of a chief is placed at once in

the tambu-house in a wooden shark of sufficient size. Women are buried

in another ground, and the wooden sharks containing their skulls are

deposited in a small house by the side of the tambu-house.

Into the subject of the superstitions and religious beliefs which are

held by the natives of the Solomon Islands I shall barely enter, as only

those who have become familiar with the natives by long residence among

them, and who have acquired an intimate knowledge of their language, can

hope to avoid the numerous pitfalls into which the unwary observer is so

likely to fall. I would, therefore, refer the reader for information on

this subject to a paper by the Rev. R. H. Codrington, entitled

“Religious Beliefs and Practices in Melanesia,” which was published in

the Journal of the Anthropological Institute (vol. x., p. 261). Through

Lieutenant Malan’s knowledge of the Fijian tongue, a language understood

by the men who had served their term on the Fiji plantations, I learned

that the natives of Treasury and the Shortlands believe in a Good Spirit

(_nito drekona_) who lives in a pleasant land whither all men who have

lived good lives go after death, and that all the bad men are

transported to the crater of Bagana, the burning volcano of

Bougainville, which is the home of the Evil Spirit (_nito paitena_) and

his companion spirits. That the natives of the Shortlands really believe

in some future state is shown in the following singular superstition

which came under my notice at Alu. I was returning one night in Gorai’s

war canoe from one of my excursions, when I noticed that the chief and

his men were looking towards the coral island of Balalai which lies a

few miles distant from the anchorage. They told me they were looking for

a bright light which was sometimes to be seen shining at night in this

island in the winter months of the year. This light they believed to be

the spirit of Captain Ferguson of the “Ripple,” who had been killed some

years before by the natives of Nouma-nouma on the Bougainville coast. I

suggested that it might be the watch-fire of a party of the Faro natives

who had gone there to fish, or to hunt turtle; but my suggestion was

pooh-poohed. Balalai was evidently a haunted island in the minds of my

companions, and I desisted from making any further remarks which would

be likely to disabuse them of this idea. Often and often when we were

anchored within sight of this island I remembered the story, but never

saw the light.

The natives of Ugi believe that the souls of the dead pass into

fireflies: and should one of these insects enter a house, those inside

quickly leave it. The spirits of the dead in human shape are believed to

frequent certain islets in Treasury Harbour, where they are occasionally

seen by the women. Certain spirits, who are usually accredited with the

power of sending sickness or other calamities, are said to take up their

abodes in particular districts. Such a spirit haunts the picturesque

glen of Tetabau on the northern slope of the summit of Treasury, if we

may accept the statement of one of the islanders; and any native who is

bold enough to enter this glen will, according to the general belief,

provoke the anger of its invisible occupant. The party of natives who

accompanied me to the summit of Tarawei Hill in the island of Faro

refused to go further than the brink of the hill, because, as they said,

there dwelt on the top some evil spirits who would send sickness and

death on any intruder. I had therefore to walk along the crest of the

hill alone. The echoes which the shouts of my men awakened as we

descended the steep slopes to the west were, as I was told, but the

voices of the spirits who haunted the summit of the hill.

In the island of Ugi the superstition of “ill-wishing” is very

prevalent. When a man cuts off his hair, as in mourning, he buries it

unobserved so that it may not fall into the hands of any one who may by

sorcery bring sickness or some other calamity upon him; and he adopts

the same precaution with reference to the husks of betel-nuts and

similar refuse. Whilst I was obtaining some samples of hair from the

natives of this island, I was told that if in the immediate future any

sickness should befall those who had parted with their hair, they would

assign the cause to me; yet, native-like, they allowed me to take a

sample with their free consent, for it is their custom never to refuse

to each other anything that is asked. The professions of the sorcerer

and medicine-man are usually combined in the same individual. These men

in the Shortlands have a great reputation in the minds of the natives,

being accredited by them with a knowledge almost universal; and the

precincts of their dwellings are tabooed even to the chief. One of them

named Kikila, a sinister-looking individual with but one eye, had

obtained much repute in the practice of his profession. When on one

occasion Lieutenant Oldham complained to the chief that some of the

calico had been removed by the natives from the surveying-marks, the

services of Kikila were employed to bring about the death of the unknown

culprit. The sorcerer was not himself aware who the man was; but we were

told that for one of so much repute this was quite unnecessary. We never

learned the result of his incantation; but in all probability they

effected their purpose soon enough by working on the fears of the

unfortunate offender. How it was to be done we could not satisfactorily

ascertain; but there was no doubt as to the efficacy of the means

employed in the minds of the natives.

Amongst the powers of the sorcerers are those of influencing the

weather. But such powers are not confined to men of this class alone. In

Ugi, different natives are accredited with being able to bring wind and

rain; and I knew one man who had earned for himself a considerable

reputation as a “wind-prophet.” These powers are claimed by Mule, the

Treasury chief, amongst his other prerogatives.

As far as I could ascertain, these natives keep no record, even in the

memory, of the lapse of years. Nor are they acquainted with their own

age. More than once when trying to obtain the date of particular events,

I received the wildest replies. The safest method to employ in making

such inquiries is to get the native to refer a recent event to some

epoch in his own life, or in the case of earlier occurrences to

associate them with his boyhood, manhood, or marriage. When he asserts

that a certain event occurred whilst his father was a child, he is

probably to be trusted; but when he goes back to the time of his

grandfather, no further reliance can be placed on his statements, except

as implying an indefinite number of years. I have observed elsewhere

(page 76) that a grandfather is deemed a personage of such a high

antiquity that these islanders, when referring to past events, seldom

care to go beyond.

The only method of reckoning that came under my notice was in the

instance of a Treasury native, who, whilst serving as interpreter on

board the “Lark,” kept a register of the time he was away from his

island by tying a knot daily on a cord and marking Sunday by a piece of

paper, the knots being about an inch apart. I learned from a Faro man

that this is the method of recording days which is commonly employed by

the inhabitants of Bougainville Straits, the “moons” or months being

alone distinguished by a piece of native tobacco tied in the knot. Such

a practice, however, would appear to be followed only during the

temporary absences from their islands, as when they are away on canoe

expeditions. A native, captured in 1769 by Surville, whilst at Port

Praslin, in Isabel, kept count of the days of absence from his country

by tying knots in a “lacet.”[18] It is scarcely necessary for me to

point out that in the “knotted cord” of the Solomon Islanders we have

the elementary form of the “quipu” of the Incas.

[18] From an extract of this voyage given in “Voyage de Marion.”

Paris, 1783: p. 274, _circâ_.

Amongst the constellations, the Pleiades and Orion’s Belt seem to be

those which are most familiar to the natives of Bougainville Straits.

The former, which they speak of as possessing six stars, they name

“Vuhu;” the latter, “Matatala.” They have also names for a few other

stars. As in the case of many other savage races, the Pleiades is a

constellation of great significance with the inhabitants of these

straits. The Treasury Islanders hold a great feast towards the end of

October, to celebrate, as far as I could learn, the approaching

appearance of this constellation above the eastern horizon soon after

sunset. Probably, as in many of the Pacific Islands, this event marks

the beginning of their year. I learned from Mr. Stephens that, in Ugi,

where of all the constellations the Pleiades alone receives a name, the

natives are guided by it in selecting the times for planting and taking

up their yams.

[Illustration: VILLAGE OF SUENNA IN UGI.

(_To face page 57._)]

CHAPTER IV.

DWELLINGS--TAMBU-HOUSES--WEAPONS--TOOLS.

THE villages in the eastern islands of the group vary much in size. They

usually contain between 25 and 40 houses, and between one and two

hundred inhabitants. There are however some much larger, as in the case

of Wano on the north coast of St. Christoval, which probably does not

possess a population much under five hundred. In the larger villages the

houses are generally built in double rows with a common thoroughfare

between; and the tambu-house occupies usually a central position. In the

village of Suenna, as shown in the engraving, which is one of the

largest villages in Ugi, the houses are built around a large open space

free of buildings. The usual dimensions of the dwelling-houses are as

follows: length 25 to 30 feet, breadth 15 to 20 feet, height 8 to 10

feet. The gable-roof, which is made of a framework of bamboos thatched

with the leaves of pandanus trees, or of cocoa-nut or areca palms, is

supported on a central row of posts. The sides are low and made of the

same materials as the roof. The only entrance is by an oblong aperture

in the front of the building, which is removed 2½ to 3 feet above the

ground, so that one has literally to dive into the interior, which from

the absence of any other openings, is kept very dark. Such are the

dimensions and mode of structure of an ordinary dwelling-house in the

eastern islands. The chiefs, however, have larger buildings, which in

some instances, as in those of the more powerful chiefs, rival in size

and in style the tambu-houses themselves. Many houses have a staging in

front, which is on a level with the lower edge of the aperture that

serves as the entrance. On this staging, protected by the projecting

roof the inmates are wont to sit and lie about during the day; and the

men occasionally pass the night there. In the houses of the chiefs and

principal men, there are generally spaces partitioned off for sleeping

and containing a raised stage for the mats; but in the dwelling-house

of an ordinary man no such partitions usually occur. Single men sleep on

the ground on a mat, which may be nothing more than the leaves of two

branches of the cocoa-nut palm rudely plaited together. Each man lays

his mat by the side of a little smouldering wood-fire, which he

endeavours to keep up during the night, and for this purpose he gets up

at all hours to fan it into a flame.

There is but little attempt made to please the eye in the way of

external or internal decoration in the ordinary dwelling-house of a

native in the eastern islands. Rows of the lower jaws of pigs with the

skeletons of fishes and the dried skins of the flying-fox are to be seen

suspended from the roof over the entrance; whilst the spears, clubs, and

fishing implements are either thrust between the bamboos of the roof or

slung in a bundle over the entrance. Of furniture there is but little

except the large cooking-bowls, the mats, and a circle of cooking-stones

forming a rude hearth in the centre of the floor. I have seen in

temporary sheds or “lean-tos,” erected by fishing parties on the

southern island of the “Three Sisters,” fire-places formed of a circle

two to three feet across of medium-sized _Tridacna_ shells, the enclosed

space being strewn with small stones.

The houses of the chiefs usually display more decoration. Amongst others

I recall to my mind the brightly-coloured front of the residence of

Haununo, the intelligent young chief of Santa Catalina. I am not aware

how long a native house will last. The white residents, however, tell me

that houses built for their own use, which are more substantial than the

ordinary native dwellings, will stand some five or six years; and that,

notwithstanding the heavy rainfall of this region, the thatch remains

admirably waterproof.