101-102 4
102-103 2
103-104 4
104-105 5
105-106 5
106-107 18
107-108 11
108-109 6
109-110 9
110-111 3
112·6 1
--
Total, 69
The range of these indices is 100 to 112·6; and the indices of
greatest frequency are those included between 106 and 107. Placing
all the indices in their order, I find that the value of the central
of the series is 106·7, and of the quarter-points 105·2 and 108·6
respectively. Taking 106·7 as representing the average proportion
which the span of the arms bears to the stature amongst these
natives, I may compare it with similar results given for other races
in Topinard’s Anthropology:--
American soldiers (10,876), 104·3
Solomon Islanders (69), 106·7
Negroes (2020), 108·1
(8) _Distance of the tip of the middle finger from the upper edge of
the patella._
Distance. Number of
Measurements.
2 inches. 2
2 to 3 „ 6
3 to 4 „ 11 (9 of these at 3½ inches).
4 to 5 „ 2
--
Total, 21
From this table it will be seen that amongst 21 natives the tip of
the finger never approached the patella nearer than two inches, and
was never farther removed than five inches. The value of greatest
frequency is 3½ inches, and it may be taken as approximating to the
average distance. Comparing it with the average stature (64 inches)
taken as 100, we obtain the index 5·46; but by comparing the
distance of the middle finger above the patella with the stature as
100 in each individual measurement, we obtain a more reliable
average index somewhat smaller than the preceding.
Indices. Number.
3·12-4·00 4
4·00-5·00 5
5·00-6·00 9
6·00-7·00 1
7·00-7·94 2
--
Total, 21
In this table the indices range between 3·12 and 7·94: nearly half
are included between 5·00 and 6·00; the value of the median is 5·24,
and the average of the numbers is 5·19. Accepting the value of the
median as our average index for these natives, it may be compared
with similar results for other races given in Topinard’s
Anthropology:
American soldiers (10,876), 7·49
Negroes (2020), 4·37
Solomon Islanders (21), 5·24
* * * * *
I will conclude my remarks on the length of the limbs by giving from
the preceding “data” the limb measurements of a Solomon Island
native of average height:
Height of body, 64 in. } Index of height, and
} length of upper limb,
{ Length of upper limb, 21⅓ „ } 33·3.
{ }
{ Length of arm, 11⅓ „ }
Intermembral { } Index of arm and
{ Length of fore-arm, 10 „ } fore-arm, 88.
index, 68. { }
{ Length of lower limb 31⅓ „ } Index of height, and
{ } length of lower limb,
{ } 49.
Length of thigh 17⅓ „ } Index of thigh and
} leg, 80.
Length of leg 14 „ }
_The form of the skull as indicated by the relation to each other of
its length and breadth._--A hundred measurements, which I made of the
heads of natives in this group,[95] in order to obtain their
proportional breadth, taking the length as 100, gave indices varying
between 69·2 and 86·2. The whole series, however, displays a tendency to
grouping around different medians, and thus points to the important
inference that we cannot accept one type of the skull as a distinctive
character of the Solomon Islander. As shown in the subjoined table,
which gives the indices corrected to actual skull-measurements by
subtracting two units as proposed by M. Broca, there would appear to be
a marked preponderance of mesocephaly; but from my measurements being
limited both in number and locality, the safest conclusion to draw will
be the most general one, viz., that all types of skulls, brachycephalic,
mesocephalic, and dolichocephalic, are to be found prevailing amongst
the islands of the Solomon Group, the particular type being often
constant in the same locality.[96] If my measurements had been five
times as numerous, and had been spread equally over the group, I might
somewhat narrow my conclusions; and in truth brachycephaly might have
formed a more important factor in the series, if I had measured the
heads of the same number of natives from the north coast of Malaita
which I measured in the districts of St. Christoval and of Bougainville
Straits. In the subjoined table I have accepted all indices below 75 as
dolichocephalic, those between 75 and 80 as mesocephalic, and those
above 80 as brachycephalic.
[95] The localities were--St. Christoval and the adjoining islands
of Ugi and Santa Anna, Florida Islands, north coast of Malaita
(Urasi and Uta Pass), Simbo or Eddystone Island, the islands of
Bougainville Straits, including the west end of Choiseul.
[96] This conclusion is in accordance with the extensive
observations of Miklouho-Maclay in New Guinea and in the Melanesian
Islands. He found brachycephaly common in the New Hebrides, indices
of 81, and even of 85, not being rare. The indices of several
hundred measurements of New Guinea natives varied between 62 and 86.
This eminent traveller therefore arrived at the conclusion that no
classification of these natives can rest on the form of the skull.
(“Nature,” xxvii., pp. 137, 185. Proc. Lin. Soc, N.S.W., vol. VI.,
p. 171.)
_Cephalic indices which have been reduced to actual skull-measurements
by the subtraction of two units._
Dolichocephalic indices 29
Mesocephalic 52
Brachycephalic 19
--
100
I now come to consider more in detail the series of measurements given
below. In this series, which ranges from 69·2 to 86·2, there is a want
of uniformity arising from the fact that the numbers tend to gather
together around three centres, one between the indices 75 and 76,
another between the indices 80 and 81, and the third between the indices
82 and 83. We have thus in this series of a hundred indices, obtained by
measurement of the head of the living subject, evidence of different
prevailing types of skull amongst the natives of the Solomon Group; and
it will be subsequently shown that each locality has usually one
prevailing type.
Cephalic Indices Number of
(Living Subject.) Measurements.
69·2 to 70 2
70 „ 71 1
72 „ 73 3
73 „ 74 3
74 „ 75 6
75 „ 76 8
76 „ 77 6
77 „ 78 6
78 „ 79 11
79 „ 80 12
80 „ 81 16
81 „ 82 7
82 „ 83 10
83 „ 84 7
85 „ 86 1
86 „ 86·2 1
---
Total, 100
(1) _St. Christoval and the adjoining islands of Ugi, Santa Anna,
and Santa Catalina._ As shown in the subjoined table, this series of
35 indices has a wide range between 69·2 and 86·2. The value of the
median index of the series is 75·9; and the average of the numbers
is 76·6. Out of the 35 indices, 11 are included between 74 and 76.
On the whole, however, I should take 76 as representing the average
cephalic index in this part of the group, although even here, as
shown in the series, there is some disturbing element.
Cephalic Indices. Number of
Measurements.
69·2 to 70 2
70 „ 71 1
72 „ 73 2
73 „ 74 2
74 „ 75 6
75 „ 76 5
76 „ 77 3
77 „ 78 2
78 „ 79 4
79 „ 80 3
80 „ 81 1
82 „ 83 2
83 „ 84 1
86 „ 86·2 1
--
Total, 35
(2.) _The Islands of Bougainville Straits_, which include Treasury
Island, the Shortland Island, Faro Islands, and the western
extremity of Choiseul.
The range of the subjoined forty indices is 75·9 to 85·2. The
contrast between this and the preceding St. Christoval series, as
shown in the grouping in the indices, well illustrates the
prevalence of distinct types in these two regions of the group. The
indices of greatest frequency are included between 80 and 81: the
average of the figures is 80·6, and the value of the median index is
80·7, which may be accepted as the typical index.
Cephalic Indices. Number of
Measurements.
75·9 to 76 2
76 „ 77 1
77 „ 78 2
78 „ 79 6
79 „ 80 3
80 „ 81 9
81 „ 82 5
82 „ 83 5
83 „ 84 6
85 „ 85·2 1
--
Total, 40
(3.) _The North Coast of Malaita._--Through the kindness of the Hon.
Curzon-Howe, government-agent of the labour schooner “Lavina,” I was
enabled to measure ten natives who had been recruited from the
districts of Urasi and the Uta Pass on the north coast of Malaita.
Cephalic Indices. Number of
Measurements.
79·3 to 80 2
80 „ 81 4
81 „ 82 1
82 „ 83 3
--
Total, 10
This series, though small, is compact, its range being 79·3 to 83.
The average of the numbers is 81·2, which I will take as typical of
these localities.
(4.) _The Island of Simbo or Eddystone._--From the head-measurements
of nine natives I obtained the following cephalic indices--72·9,
73·8, 75·8, 76·6, 77·0, 78·0, 78·7, 79·3, 80·4--the average of which
just falls short of 77, which however may be taken as an
approximation of the prevailing index.
(5.) _The Florida Islands._--Measurements of six natives of Mboli
Harbour gave the following cephalic indices,. . . . 77·2, 79·3,
79·3, 80·0, 80·7, 81·4,. . . . the average of the numbers being
79·6.
I will now proceed to sum up briefly the results of the foregoing
hundred measurements of the head of the living subject. It will first be
necessary to reduce them to the form of measurements of the actual skull
by subtracting two units from the index, as proposed by M. Broca. The
effect of this correction is shown in the following table:
Number of Living
Measurements. Subject. Skull.
St. Christoval and adjoining islands, 35 76·0 74·0
The islands of Bougainville Straits, 40 80·7 78·7
The north coast of Malaita, 10 81·2 79·2
The island of Simbo or Eddystone, 9 77·0 75·0
The Florida Islands, 6 79·6 77·6
Accepting all indices below 75 as dolichocephalic, those between 75 and
80 as mesocephalic, and those above 80 as brachycephalic, we find
therefore that mesocephaly, as represented by an average index of 78·7,
prevails amongst the natives of the islands of Bougainville Straits;
whilst dolichocephaly, as represented by an average index of 74,
prevails amongst the natives of St. Christoval and its adjoining islands
at the opposite end of the group. On the north coast of Malaita exists a
type of native with an almost brachycephalic index. The foregoing
remarks refer only to the average in each locality. When we apply the
same correction to the table of the hundred measurements as given on
page 112, we find, as stated on a previous page, that 29 are
dolichocephalic, 52 are mesocephalic, and 19 brachycephalic. It would,
therefore, appear from these observations that, whilst brachycephaly is
not uncommon, dolichocephaly is more frequent, and mesocephaly prevails.
Although this result may give an indication of the truth, at present it
would be safer, for reasons given on page 111, to accept the general
conclusion that these three types of skulls prevail in the Solomon
Group.
As confirmatory of the foregoing corrected measurements of the head of
the living subject, I will add the indices of nine skulls procured
amongst the eastern islands of the group.[97]
[97] I take this opportunity of expressing my indebtedness to my
messmates Lieut. Leeper and Lieut. Heming, and to my friend Dr.
Beaumont, staff-surgeon of H.M.S. “Diamond,” for the majority of the
skulls in this small collection. The officers of the survey, whilst
away in their boats, had more opportunities than I had of obtaining
those specimens. As I was usually accompanied by natives, I was
often unable to take advantage of occasions.
74·1 } Rua Sura Islets, off north coast of Guadaleaner.
74·1 }
74·1 Ugi Island.
74·5 Port Adam, Malaita.
75·5 }
75·9 } Ugi Island.
80·0 }
80·0 }
84·9 Kwahkwahru, Malaita.
_Measurements of Women._--I was only able to obtain measurements of
six women, all of them from the small islands of Ugi and Santa Anna,
off the St. Christoval coast.
Span of Arms. Intermembral Distance
Height. (Stature--100.) Index. between middle
finger and
patella.
4 ft. 8 in. 100·8 65 3½ in.
4 „ 9 „ 102·1 68 3½ „
4 „ 9¾ „ 104·3 68 4 „
4 „ 10 „ 104·7 71 --
5 „ 0 „ 106·9 -- Average, 3⅔ „
5 „ 3 „ 108·3 Average, 68
------------ -----
Average, 4 ft. 10½ in. Average, 104·5
Arm and Height Leg and Height Cephalic
Index. Index. Index.
32·5 48·5 71
33 48·5 75
33 50 76·8
33·5 51·5 76·8
34·5 ---- 79·6
35·5 Average, 49·6 82·1
----
Average, 33·7
Considering the paucity of the observations, the average indices of the
limb-measurements agree closely with those obtained for the men. The
average height of the women would appear from these few measurements to
be that which they ought to possess as compared with the height of the
men. This conclusion is based on the rule given by Topinard in his
“Anthropology” that for a race of this stature 7 per cent. of the man’s
height must be subtracted to obtain the proportional height of the
woman.
_The Features._
The facial angle taken was that between a line dropt from the forehead
to the alveolar border of the upper jaw, and another line drawn from the
external auditory meatus through the central axis of the orbit, the
angle being taken with a goniometer. Amongst eighty natives from
different parts of the group, the angle varied between 87° and 98°.
Seventy-five of the natives had facial angles between 90° and 95°; and
the average of the whole number of angles was 93°. On applying the
method for obtaining the facial angle of Cloquet to two large
photographs of the faces in profile of two typical natives, I find the
angles to be 63° and 67° respectively.
The common characters of the features may be thus described: face rather
angular, with often a beetle-browed aspect from the deeply sunk orbits
and projecting brows; forehead of moderate height and breadth, and
somewhat flattened; middle of face rather prominent on account of the
chin receding; moderate subnasal prognathism as indicated by Cloquet’s
facial angles of 63° and 67°; lips rather thick and often projecting;
nose usually coarse, short, straight, and much depressed at the root,
with broad nostrils and extended alæ; in about one man out of five the
nose is arched in a regular curve, giving a Jewish cast to the face.
_The Hair, Colour of Skin, Powers of Vision, &c._
Amongst the natives of the Solomon Group, there are four common styles
of wearing the hair, which I may term the woolly, the mop-like, the
partially bushy, and the completely bushy: these prevail with both
sexes, the fashion varying in different islands. From frequent
observations of the different modes of wearing the hair, I am of the
opinion that their variety is to be attributed more to individual
caprice than to any difference in the character of the hair. According
to his taste, a man may prefer to wear his hair close and uncombed, when
the short matted curls with small spiral give it a woolly
appearance,[98] somewhat resembling that of the hair of the African
negro. Should he allow his hair to grow, making but little use of his
comb, the hair will hang in narrow ringlets three to eight inches in
length, a mode which is more common amongst the natives of the eastern
islands of the group, and which is best described as the “mop-headed”
style. More often, from a moderate amount of combing, the locks are
loosely entangled, and the hair-mass assumes a somewhat bushy
appearance, the arrangement into locks being still discernible, and the
surface of the hair presenting a tufted aspect.[99] The majority of
natives, however, produce by constant combing a large bushy periwig in
which all the hairs are entangled independently into a loose frizzled
mass, the separate locks being no longer discernible. Of these four
styles of wearing the hair, I am inclined to view the “mop-headed” style
as the result of the natural mode of growth, it being the one which the
hair would assume if allowed to grow uncombed and uncut. The native of
these islands unfortunately makes such a constant use of his comb that
one rarely sees his hair as nature intended it to grow. When, however, a
man with bushy hair has been diving for some time, the hairs,
disentangling themselves to a great extent, gather together into long
narrow ringlets, nature’s “coiffure” of the Solomon Islander. I was
pleased to find that Mr. Earl[100] and Dr. Barnard Davis,[101] in
writing on the subject of the hair of the Papuans, also consider that
the hairs would naturally arrange themselves in long narrow ringlets if
left uncombed, and that the bushy frizzled periwig is produced by
teasing out the locks by means of the comb. This bushy frizzled mass of
hair is sometimes referred to, as if it were one of the natural
characters of the Papuans: but since it is also characteristic of other
dark races of Africa and South America, and may be produced in
Europeans, it has but little distinguishing value.[102] Mr. Prichard in
his “Physical History of Mankind” (vol. v. p. 215), expresses himself to
be in doubt whether the bushy frizzled hair affords any racial
distinction, but he seems to have lost the point of the remarks of Mr.
Earl (to whom he refers) concerning the natural mode of growth of the
hair in long narrow ringlets. The term “mop-headed” is often applied to
the Papuan with a bushy frizzled periwig: but since a mop is neither
bushy nor frizzly, the term is more appropriately employed as I have
used it, and as I see Dr. Barnard Davis uses it, in connection with that
style in which the hair hangs in long drawn-out ringlets. The tendency
of the hair to roll itself into a spiral of small diameter is attributed
to the thin flattened form of the hair in section. According to Dr.
Pruner-Bey, the hair in the Papuan is implanted perpendicularly and not
obliquely, as in the great majority of the races of man.[103]
[98] With the bushmen of the interior, the hair appears to be
permanently woolly (_vide_ p. 121).
[99] My experience, however, goes to prove that of Miklouho-Maclay
that the hair grows uniformly over the scalp and not in little tufts
separated by bald patches as described by Topinard.
[100] “The Papuans” by G. W. Earl (page 2). London, 1853.
[101] _Vide_ a paper by Dr. J. Barnard Davis in vol ii. (p. 95), of
Journ. of Anthrop. Inst.
[102] These bushy periwigs are found also among the Kaffirs in
Africa and among the Cafusos of South America. Dr. Pruner-Bey, who
appears to view these bushy periwigs as resulting from the natural
growth of the hair, remarks that he has met in Europe three
individuals whose hair had the same aspect. I have seen a
characteristic Papuan periwig produced in England in the case of a
fair-haired girl. (Anthropological Review: Feb. 1864.)
[103] The Anthropological Review for February 1864 (p. 6).
The hue of the hair in adults varies usually in accordance with the
changes in the colour of the skin. Amongst the St. Christoval natives it
agrees with the numbers 35 and 42 of the colour-types of M. Broca:
whilst amongst the darker-hued natives of the islands of Bougainville
Straits the hair is of a deeper hue, corresponding with the colour-types
34 and 49. The average thickness of eleven samples of hair from the
former locality is from 1/260 to 1/270 of an inch; whilst in the latter
locality, where the hair is of a darker hue, the hairs are individually
coarser, ten samples giving an average thickness of 1/210 to 1/220 of an
inch. The diameter of the spiral, when measurable, varies between 5 and
10 millimètres,[104] its usual range throughout the group; but on
account of the practice of combing, it is often difficult to measure it
with any degree of accuracy. These measurements, however, are double the
size of the curl (2 to 4 mm.) which Miklouho-Maclay[105] has determined
to be characteristic of the Papuan. The difference may be due to the
greater intermingling of the eastern Polynesian element amongst the
Solomon Islanders.
[104] In young boys in different parts of the group, the hair
sometimes grows in larger flat spirals having a diameter of from 12
to 15 millimètres.
[105] “Nature.” Dec. 21st, 1882.
The natives of the eastern islands of this group frequently stain their
hair a light-brown hue by the use of lime, a practice which frees the
hair of vermin. The passing visitor might easily carry away with him the
impression that such light-brown hair was a permanent character; but on
examining adults, he would usually find that the hair is much darker at
the roots. The natives (women and boys) of the islands of Bougainville
Straits, and according to Labillardière,[106] those of the adjacent
island of Bouka, stain the hair by the use of a red ochreous earth, the
colour of which, blended with the deep colour of the hair, produces a
striking magenta hue.
[106] Labillardière’s “Voyage in search of La Pérouse,” vol. i. p.
246. London 1800.
With regard to the amount of hair on the face, limbs, and trunk, great
diversity is observed even amongst natives of the same village.
Epilation is commonly employed, a bivalve shell being used as a pair of
pincers; but there can be no doubt that the development of the hair
varies quite independently of such a custom. Out of ten men taken
promiscuously from one of the villages on the north coast of St.
Christoval, perhaps, five would have smooth faces; three would possess
a small growth of hair on the chin and upper lip; the ninth would
possess a beard, a moustache, and whiskers of moderate growth; whilst
the tenth would present a shaggy beard, and a hairy visage. With the
majority of the Solomon Islanders, the surfaces of the body and limbs
are comparatively free from hair; but hairy men are to be found in most
villages, and in rare and exceptional cases, the hairy-bodied,
hairy-visaged men are the rule. It would appear that in this group, the
qualities of treachery and ferocity are possessed in a greater degree by
those communities in which hairy men prevail. Hairy-visaged men are
commonly found amongst the natives of the Florida Islands. In
Bougainville Straits, the great majority of the men keep their faces and
chins free from hair, which the chiefs and the older men usually permit
to grow.
With age the hair generally assumes an iron-grey hue, as if the
decoloration was incomplete. In one old man, however, who was the
patriarch of Treasury Island, the hair was completely grey. Baldness
usually commences over the fore-head; and is not uncommonly observed
beginning amongst middle-aged men. The old women apparently regard hair
as an unnecessary encumbrance, the little that remains in later life
being generally removed.
I have not yet referred to an almost straight-haired element which has
been infused amongst the inhabitants of Bougainville Straits. The
individuals, thus characterised, have very dark skins, the hair being
even darker, and corresponding in hue with the colour-types 34 and 49.
With such natives the face is flatter, and the nose is more _écrasé_
than usual. The hair may be almost straight: and, if not very long, it
is often erect, giving the person a shock-headed appearance; whilst in
some cases it tends to gather into curls of a large spiral. Other
natives possess hair which combines the straight and frizzly characters,
giving the whole mass, when combed out, an appearance partly wavy and
partly bushy. Small boys in this part of the group have frequently curly
heads of hair with large flattened spirals. Traders tell me that
straight-haired individuals are found amongst the hill-tribes of St.
Christoval at the opposite end of the group. I have seen two such
natives, one a woman, and the other a man whom I met near Cape Keibeck
on the north coast of the island.
A few remarks with reference to the prevailing hues of the skin may be
here interesting. It would seem to be a general rule that the
darker-skinned natives occur in the western islands of the group, such
as New Georgia, Bougainville Straits, and Bougainville; whilst the
lighter-coloured natives are more restricted to the eastern islands such
as St. Christoval, Guadalcanar, &c. In different parts of the Solomon
Group, the colour of the skin, as may have been already inferred, varies
considerably in shade from a very deep brown, exemplified by colour-type
42 of M. Broca, to a copperish hue, best typefied by colour-type 29. The
prevailing darker hue of the western islands is represented by type 42,
and the prevailing lighter hue of the eastern islands by type 35. Where
there is no means of comparison, the darker hues of the skin might be
called black. The lightest hues, such as would appear to characterise
natives in isolated localities, as in Santa Catalina, and on the north
coast of Guadalcanar opposite the Rua Sura Islets, would be best
exemplified by colour-type 28. The elderly natives are, as a rule, more
dark-skinned than those of younger years, the difference in shade being
attributable partly to a longer exposure by reason of their age to the
influence of sun and weather, and partly to those structural changes in
the skin which accompany advancing years. The colour is usually fairly
uniform over the person, but in the case of the Malaita natives, before
referred to, the colour of the face and chest was of a lighter hue than
that of the limbs and body, as exemplified by contrasting the
colour-types 28 and 35.[107]
[107] _Vide_ page for remarks on the effect of the prevailing
skin-disease, an inveterate form of body-ringworm, on the colour of
the skin.
I would draw attention to the circumstance that my observations were
confined to the coast tribes of these islands. The larger islands, which
may be compared in size to the county of Cornwall, are but thinly
populated in their interior by tribes of more puny physique and less
enterprising character, who are ill-suited to cope with their more
robust and more war-like fellow-islanders of the coast. These “bushmen,”
as they are called, are accredited by the coast-natives with inferior
mental capabilities as compared with their own. To call a man of the
coast a “bushman” is equivalent to calling him a stupid or a fool, a
taunt which is commonly employed amongst the coast-natives. The stone
adzes and axes, which have been discarded by the inhabitants of the
coast, are said to be still employed by the bushmen. I was unable to
make any measurements of these natives; but those I saw were usually of
short stature and of a more excitable and suspicious temperament. The
hair is worn in the woolly style, is short like that of the African
Negro, and its surface has often a peculiar appearance from the hairs
arranging themselves in little knobs. I believe that these bushmen, and
at the present time I am recalling to my mind those of the interior of
Bougainville, have naturally shorter hair than those of the coast, and
that the peculiar character of the hair just described is a permanent
one.[108] These bushmen probably represent the original Negrito stock of
these islands, which, at the coast, often loses many of its characters
on account of the intermingling with Eastern Polynesian and Malayan
intruders.
[108] Mr. Earl, who well describes this knobby appearance of the
surface of the hair of some Papuan tribes, also believes that these
tribes may sometimes have naturally short hair. (“Papuans,” p. 2.)
With the object of testing the powers of vision possessed by the natives
of these islands, I examined the sight of twenty-two individuals who
were in all cases either young adults or of an age not much beyond
thirty. For this purpose I employed the square test-dots which are used
in examining the sight of recruits for the British army, and I obtained
the following results. Two natives could distinguish the dots clearly at
70 feet, one at 67 feet, two at 65 feet, three at 62 feet, four at 60
feet, two at 55 feet, three at 52 feet, four at 50 feet, and one at 35
feet. I roughly placed the average distance at which a native could
count the dots at about 60 feet, which is a little beyond the standard
distance for testing the normal vision of recruits, viz., 57 feet; but I
laid no stress on this difference, and briefly noted in my journal that
these natives possessed the normal powers of vision. The quickness of
the natives in perceiving distant objects, such as ships at sea, was a
matter of daily observation to us; and I was often much surprised by
their facility in picking out pigeons and opossums, which were almost
concealed in the dense foliage of the trees some 60 or 70 feet overhead.
I was therefore impressed with the greater discriminating power
possessed by these savages; but the results of my observations on their
far-seeing powers were not such as would justify the conclusion that
they excelled us very greatly in this respect.
Having read an interesting correspondence in “Nature” during February
and March, 1885, on the subject of “civilisation and eyesight,” I
forwarded the results of my observations to that journal (_vide_, April
2nd). A fortnight afterwards there appeared a communication from Mr.
Charles Roberts, in which he added greatly to the value of my
observations by comparing them with results obtained by the use of the
army test-dots in the case of English agricultural and out-door
labourers, results which were extracted from the Report for 1881 of the
Anthropometric Committee of the British Association. After making this
comparison Mr. Roberts remarked that _the figures gave no support to the
belief that savages possess better sight than civilised peoples_; and he
pointed out that my average of 60 feet, which, however, I had only
roughly estimated, was somewhat excessive and should have been 57·5
feet, which is only half a foot more than the distance at which
Professor Longmore has determined these test-dots ought to be seen by a
recruit with normal powers of vision. My observations were comparatively
few, but, as above shown, they give no support to the view that savages
possess superior powers of vision as compared with civilised races.
In the correspondence in “Nature,” above referred to, Mr. Brudenell
Carter supported the “commonly received view” that the savage possesses
greater acuteness of vision; but Lord Rayleigh held that it would be
inconsistent with optical laws to hold that the eyes of savages,
considered merely as optical instruments, are greatly superior to our
own; and he observed that it appeared to him that the superiority of the
savage is a question of attention and practice in the interpretation of
minute indications. The same opinion was expressed by Mr. Roberts, when
he referred to the common mistake of travellers in confounding acuteness
of vision with the results of special training or education of the
faculty of seeing, results which, as he remarked, are quite as much
dependent on mental training as on the use of the eyes.
There is a circumstance which may influence the powers of vision
possessed by these islanders; and it is this. With the object, I
believe, of excluding flies and other insects from their dwellings, the
natives keep the interiors dark, the door being usually the only
aperture admitting light. Coming in from the direct sunlight, I have
often had to wait a minute or two before my eyes became accustomed to
the change; but the natives do not experience this inconvenience. Some
hours of the day they commonly spend in their houses; whilst at night
they use no artificial light except the fitful glare of a wood fire. It
would seem probable that the influence of the opposite conditions
presented by the darkness of their dwellings and the bright sunlight,
would be found in the increased rapidity of the contraction and
dilation of the pupil with the enlargement, perhaps, of the retinal
receiving area. It is, however, a noteworthy circumstance that these
natives are able to pass from the bright tropical glare outside their
dwellings to the dark interiors, and _vice versâ_, without showing that
temporary derangement of vision which the white man experiences whilst
the iris is adapting itself to the new condition.
My attention was not attracted by the size of the pupils; but I paid no
especial attention to this point. Mr. J. Rand Capron in the
correspondence in “Nature,” above alluded to, refers to the circumstance
that the pupil varies in size in individual cases; and he instances the
case of one of his assistants possessing unusually large pupils who had
a singularly “sharp” eye for picking up companions to double stars,
small satellites, &c., and who could read fine print with a light much
less bright than is usually required. “The peculiarity affecting my
assistant’s eyes,” as Mr. Capron writes, “may be more common with the
savages than with us.” I am inclined myself to believe that, on a
careful comparison being made, the pupils of the savage will be
generally found to be larger. If such should be the case, we shall have
a ready explanation of his better discriminating powers of vision.
The eyes of these natives have usually a soft, fawn-like appearance with
but little expression. Of the twenty-two individuals whose sight I
examined, I came upon only one whose powers of vision seemed at all
defective. In this instance--that of a man about thirty years old--the
nature of the cause was sufficiently indicated by the prominence of the
eyes and the nipping of the lids, especially when the sight was strained
by trying to count the test-dots at a distance. The limit of distance at
which this man could count the test-dots was 35 feet. The question which
presented itself to my mind in this case was, whether a white man, who
could count the dots at the same limit of distance, would exhibit to the
same degree the external signs of myopia.
I also made some observations on the colour-sense of the inhabitants of
Bougainville Straits. Although able to match the seven colours of the
spectrum, viz., red, orange, yellow, green, Prussian blue, indigo, and
violet, they have only, as far as I could ascertain, distinctive names
for white, red, yellow, and sometimes blue; whilst all the other
colours, including black, indigo, dark blue, violet, green, &c., are
included under one or more general names for dark hues, as shown in the
list below. Some of the names of the colours have been suggested by the
colours of objects with which the natives are familiar. Thus, one of the
names of dark hues is evidently taken from that of charcoal (_sibi_).
Again, one of the names for red is but the native term for blood
(_masini_); whilst the commonest word for yellow (_temuli_) is also the
name of a scitamineous plant, the bulbous root of which possesses a
yellow juice. Yellow must be a familiar colour to these natives, as they
sometimes decorate their persons with the yellow juice that exudes from
incisions into the fruits of _Thespesia populnea_, one of the commonest
of littoral trees. They possess also the _Morinda citrifolia_, the roots
of which supply a bright yellow dye that is employed in other Polynesian
groups, such as in the Society Islands, for staining purposes. The
circumstance that different men often applied different names to the
same test-colour, shows that they have no recognised list of
colour-names; and it would appear probable that all the names are of a
suggestive nature, or in other words that they are derived from the
names of objects with the conspicuous hues of which the natives are
familiar.
NATIVE NAMES FOR COLOURS.
WHITE, Anaa; Ana-anaa.
RED, ORANGE, Alec; Masi-masini; Loto.
YELLOW, Temuli; Samoi; Latili.
BLUE, Totono.
BLACK, INDIGO, VIOLET, GREEN (dark),
BLUE (dark), Söipa; Kia; Sivi-sivi; Malai.
The pigments employed in decorating the posts of houses,
canoe-ornaments, carved clubs, &c., are white, red, and black. Blue is a
favourite colour with the natives of Bougainville Straits when choosing
beads and other articles of trade; and, in fact, blue is the favourite
colour for beads in most of the islands.
In the eastern islands, pigments of white, red, and black are also those
which are commonly employed for decorative purposes. In the island of
Ugi, as Mr. Stephens informed me, the same word is used to indicate all
the dark colours. A native of this island cannot distinguish the
different colours in the rainbow: and it should be here remarked that he
views the appearance of a bow with a large arc as a warning of the
approach of hostile canoes, and he retires accordingly to his house.
The following notes on the gestures and the expressions of the emotions
of the Solomon Islanders, which I was led to make after a perusal of Mr.
Darwin’s well-known work on these subjects, occur scattered about the
pages of my journals; and I must crave the indulgence of my reader if
they are, from this reason, of a somewhat disconnected character.
The natives of Bougainville Straits and of other parts of the group
_beckon_ with the hand, in a manner almost the reverse of our own.
Instead of holding out the hand with the palm uppermost and motioning
with the forefinger, they beckon with the palm downwards, and motion
with all the fingers. On several occasions, when motioning a native to
approach by means of our own gesture, I have had to adopt his own mode
of beckoning before he could understand me. . . . . Clapping the hands
is a common means of evincing _astonishment_ and _delight_, the hands
being usually held up before the face as in the attitude of prayer, but
little noise being made. Mule, the Treasury chief, clapped his hands
before his face, when Lieutenant Leeper showed him some of his
paintings; and surprise was exhibited in a similar manner by the men of
Alu, whilst I was taking a sample of hair from the head of one of their
number. Some young lads of Fauro clapped their hands noiselessly during
their laughter when I gave them a tune on the Jews-harp: whilst a party
of Treasury boys, who accompanied me on one of my rambles, thus evinced
their pleasure when some matches for lighting our pipes were
unexpectedly found in my bag.
The following mode of signifying _hunger_ was often adopted by my
youthful native companions in my excursions, when the sun was near its
meridian altitude, in order to remind me of the biscuit I generally
carried for them; and the little imps used to repeat the gesture in an
exaggerated form for my amusement. The belly is drawn in to a surprising
degree by the powerful contraction of the abdominal muscles; and,
assuming a dismal expression of countenance, the hungry individual
points with his finger to this unmistakeable sign of the apparently
empty condition of his stomach, and says “kai-kai, muru” (food for
stomach). Labillardière tells us that the natives of New Caledonia
signified their hunger in a similar manner by pointing to their bellies,
and contracting the abdominal muscles as much as they could.[109]
. . . . The natives of Bougainville Straits make use of the exclamation,
“Agai,” to indicate _pain_ and _suffering_. This cry often rang
pitifully in my ears when, from the prejudices of the natives, I was
unable to render much surgical aid in the case of the severe gunshot
injuries, which resulted from the conflicts between the Treasury and
Shortland islanders.
[109] “Voyage in search of La Pérouse” (Eng. edit.: London 1800)
vol. ii., p. 213.
Elevation of the eyebrows with a slight throwing backward of the head is
the gesture of _assent_. A native sometimes raises his eyebrows slightly
to indicate _caution_ or _reticence_ under circumstances in which we
should employ a cough or a wink; and, by the same sign, a _question_ may
be asked, and as silently answered by a similar movement of the
eyebrows, accompanied by a throwing up of the head. A native of Simbo,
on one occasion, because I would not give him tobacco, signified his
_contempt_ for me by spitting on the ground. A woman of Alu informed me
that she was the _mother_ of two girls standing near, by first pointing
to her daughters, and then touching her breasts. When _puzzled_, a
native sometimes adopts our sign of perplexity by frowning, and
scratching his head.
On one occasion, I was much amused by the behaviour of some of the
Treasury boys, lively young imps who used frequently to accompany me on
my excursions. One of their number had been offended by his companions,
who immediately began to caper round him, distorting their faces in a
peculiar manner by drawing the eyes and mouth towards each other with
their fingers, and producing an appearance reminding me of the human
faces on the dance-clubs of Bougainville Straits and New Ireland.
Sometimes they would only go through the motions by scraping their
fingers down their cheeks. The object was evidently to create terror,
but only in a mimic fashion.
But little gesticulation is used in ordinary conversation. A native of
Cape Keibeck, on the north coast of St. Christoval, who went through the
motions of throwing a spear in time of battle, assumed a hideous
expression of countenance with eyes starting and knitted brows, much as
Mr. Mosely describes in the instance of a native of Humboldt Bay, New
Guinea.[110] A native, who is planning the performance of an act of
treachery, usually exhibits during his conversation an excited, restless
manner, with a slight trembling of the limbs and a partial loss of
control over the facial muscles. It is in this manner that white men,
resident in the group, when approaching a village with which they are
unacquainted, often find an indication of the hostility or friendliness
of the inhabitants by observing the unconscious bearing of the first men
they meet.
[110] “Naturalist on the Challenger,” p. 441.
These islanders converse in a low, monotonous voice; and are
unaccustomed to loud, stentorian tones, such as those in which words of
command are given. I was told a story of a white man who had engaged
some natives to take him out in a canoe to the site of a sunken rock,
which he intended to blow up with dynamite as it obstructed the channel.
Immediately on dropping the charge, he shouted out to his crew to paddle
away as quickly as possible and at the same time gesticulated wildly.
The men opened their eyes wide and stared at him with astonishment, but
never moved; and before they could recover themselves, off went the
charge, and the canoe and its occupants were blown into the air.
However, but little damage was caused except to the canoe. My informant
told me that if the men had been told quietly to paddle away, the
accident would never have happened.
I now come to the subject of the disposition of these islanders. There
is a generosity between man and man, which I often admired, although it
was easy to perceive that there was a singular relation between the
giver and the recipient. A native rarely refuses anything that is asked;
but, on the other hand, he is not accustomed to offer anything
spontaneously except when he expects an equivalent in return. His
generosity is, in truth, constrained by the knowledge of the fact that
by a refusal he will incur the enmity of the person who has made the
request. Often when during my excursions I have come upon some man who
was preparing a meal for himself and his family, I have been surprised
at the open-handed way in which he dispensed the food to my party of
hungry natives. No gratitude was shown towards the giver, who apparently
expected none, and only mildly remonstrated when my men were unusually
voracious. I was often amused at noticing how a native’s friends would
gather around when there was a sago palm to be felled.
But there is one occasion when the existence of friends must be very
trying to a Solomon Islander, and that is when he returns to his island
after his term of service in the plantations of Fiji or Queensland has
expired. He brings with him his earnings of three years in the shape of
a musket, a couple of American axes, and a large box filled with calico,
coloured handkerchiefs, tobacco, pipes, knives, beads, &c. On landing at
the beach, he is greeted by the greater portion of the village. The
chief at once appropriates the musket, as his way of welcoming the
wanderer on his return. His father selects, with due deliberation, the
best tempered of the axes. The chief’s son relieves him of one of the
largest knives. His numerous relations and friends assist themselves to
some of the more valuable articles in the box; whilst the calico and
beads are evenly appropriated by the different ladies of the village, as
their manner of evincing their pleasure at his safe return. The unhappy
man dares not refuse, and he finally leaves the beach for his own house
with a very light box and a heavy heart. But his friends in the
neighbourhood think it their duty to convey their congratulations in
person; and in a few days the box alone remains, which it is very likely
that the chief has already secured “in prospectu.” The foregoing is by
no means an exaggerated account of the reception which awaits a Solomon
Islander when he returns from his term of service in the colonies.
The natives of this group have obtained for themselves the reputation of
being the most treacherous and bloodthirsty of the Pacific Islanders.
Here, however, as in other groups, the inhabitants have been judged
according to the circumstances attending the visit of the navigator. If
he has come into collision with them, he paints their conduct in the
darkest colours; but if, as has rarely been the case, there has been
nothing to interrupt the harmony of his intercourse, he is apt, in his
description of the peaceful character of the natives, to reflect on the
want of humanity which marked the dealings of his predecessors. But for
us a middle course would seem preferable; and in approving the mild
measures of the one, we must not forget that the harsh treatment of the
other may have arisen in circumstances over which he had little control.
The early intercourse between civilized and savage peoples must of
necessity be fraught with peril, until the latter cease to look upon
every stranger as a probable foe. It is not often that we have the
pleasure of reading such accounts as are given by Kotzebue and Chamisso
of their intercourse with the Radack Islanders; yet we must remember
that the humane principles of La Pérouse led, unfortunately, to the
massacre of M. de Langle and eleven others in the Navigator Islands.
Here again the middle course is to be followed; and the traveller most
successful in his dealings with these races will be he who obtains for
himself their fear as well as their affection.
The early intercourse of the Solomon Islanders with the Spaniards, and
with the first French navigators, was too often marked by bloodshed to
enable us to form a correct estimation of the disposition of these
natives. We therefore turn without regret to the more pleasing
experience of a later voyager in these seas. In his account of his
intercourse with the natives of Isabel in 1838, D’Urville thus refers to
these islanders: “Nous sommes les premiers à inscrire dans l’histoire
des habitants de ces îles, une page en faveur de leur caractère: ils
auraient pu, presque sans dangers, massacrer ceux de nos officiers qui
sont allés chercher l’hospitalité aux villages d’Opihi et Toitoi, et
j’aime à croire qu’ils n’auraient pas résisté à la tentation, si dans
leur caractère il n’y avait pas eu quelques sentiments d’affection ou de
probité.”[111]
[111] “Voyage au Pole Sud,” etc. Vol. V., p. 106.
In recalling my own experiences, I can scarcely remember a single
instance in which I was aught but kindly treated by a race of savages
who have been so often characterised as the most treacherous and
bloodthirsty in the Pacific. I was constantly in their power, since, in
my excursions, I very rarely had any other companions. I will,
therefore, frame my estimate of their character in the words of the
French navigator, that they would not have been able to resist the
temptation of harming me, if there was not in their disposition
something of the sense of honour and affection.
CHAPTER VII.
DRESS--TATTOOING--SONGS, ETC.
THE dress worn by the men of these islands is generally of the scantiest
description. A narrow band of cloth, worn like a [T] bandage, often
constitutes their only garment. In some islands visited by traders,
waist-cloths are worn. Often, however, and especially amongst the bush
tribes, the Solomon Islander presents himself as guiltless of clothing
as did our original parents. The dress of the women varies considerably
in different islands of the group. The married women of St. Christoval
and the adjacent small islands wear the scantiest of fringes, which
cannot be dignified by the name of dress: whilst the unmarried girls
dispense with clothing altogether. In the Florida Islands, the women are
more decorously clad, and wear a longer fringe. In the eastern islands,
however, the influence of the missionary and the trader have caused a
more general employment by the women of the “sulu” (a large coloured
handkerchief), which is fastened around the waist, and is very becoming.
The women of the islands of Bougainville Straits commonly wear the
“sulu;” but they frequently discard it for a time, as when they are
wading on the reefs, and then they are content with an improvised apron
of long leaves (“bassa”), the stalks of which are passed under a narrow
waist-band. On one occasion at Alu, when arriving at the beach after one
of my excursions into the interior of the island, I came upon a party of
women who were bathing in the sea. They at once came out of the water,
and began to interrogate my guides, having first provided themselves in
the most unabashed manner with temporary aprons of fern fronds and the
leaves of trees. They then gathered round me to learn where I had been,
and what I had been doing; and after I had satisfied their curiosity, I
sent them away, highly pleased with some tobacco and beads.
The men of these islands are always very anxious to become the
possessors of European articles of clothing, such as shirts, coats,
hats, etc.; but the happy owners seldom don them except during the visit
of a ship, when they strut about clad in some solitary garment, such as
a shirt or a waistcoat, or often only a hat. I had often some difficulty
in preserving my gravity when I met some sedate individual, as naked as
on the day when he was born, wearing a round hat on his head, and
carrying his shirt on his arm. The fortunate possessor of a shirt
usually regards it as a kind of light overcoat, to be worn on especial
occasions; and in some islands the possessors seem to prefer carrying
their shirts on their arms wherever they go. A few men, who have these
articles of clothing, never take them off after they have begun to wear
them. Such a practice, however, is quite opposed to the usual cleanly
habits of these islanders. Whilst we were in Bougainville Straits, three
natives were employed on board as interpreters, who were dubbed by the
men, Jacket, Waistcoat, and Trousers, as they used to wear a suit
between them. On one occasion, when I had induced some Faro men to take
me in their canoe to an island some distance away, I was amused at the
appearance of my crew, to whom I had previously given shirts. We were,
for all the world, like a party of nigger-minstrels. Following the
waggish advice of the quartermaster, the natives turned up their large
collars. Off we started, and the sight of their serious countenances,
half buried in their collars, was too much for my gravity: but when we
landed, and my men proceeded in a dignified manner to disembark, they
looked so ludicrously sedate in their long-tailed shirts, that I roared
with laughter.
The most picturesque of the personal ornaments of the natives of the
eastern islands is a frontlet of the handsome white cowries (_Ovulum
ovum_). About a dozen of these shells, rather small in size, are strung
together, and bound across the forehead. A single shell is sometimes
worn on the front of the leg just below the knee. Many men possess large
crescent-shaped plates of the pearl shell found in these seas, and which
they wear on the breast. Resident traders, such as Captain Macdonald at
Santa Anna, have largely supplied the natives with these ornaments.
Necklaces made of the teeth of dogs, porpoises, fruit-bats, and
phalangers (_Cuscus_), are commonly worn. The seeds of the _Coix
Lachryma_ are also employed for this purpose. Various articles are used
as necklace-pendants, such as _Bulla_ shells, the pretty _Natica
mamilla_, beans, the hard palate of a fish (probably a ray), and other
things. One native was very proud of a fragment of a willow-pattern
plate, which he had smoothed off and ground down to a convenient size
for his necklace.
Shell armlets[112] are in general use, and their number and size
frequently denote the rank of their owner. Those most prized are
fashioned out of the thickest part of the shell of _Tridacna gigas_
towards the hinge. On one occasion, in the island of Simbo, I had an
opportunity of observing the tedious process of making these _Tridacna_
armlets: A hole is first bored through the solid thickness of the shell,
and in it is inserted a piece of hoop iron, with one edge roughly
jagged, after the fashion of a saw. This is worked with the hands, and
after much labour the ring is sawn out of the shell. It is then rubbed
down and polished with sand. On account of the tedious nature of the
process of making them, these _Tridacna_ armlets are much prized by
their possessors. Amongst the numerous articles employed in trading with
these natives is a very good imitation of this armlet made of tough
white porcelain, and valued at about half a dollar. Smaller armlets are
also cut out of large shells belonging to the genera _Trochus_ and
_Turbo_. The shell armlets of these islanders are often first placed on
during youth, or at the first attainment of manhood; and, as the wearer
grows older these ornaments become too small to pass over the elbow, and
are permanently worn. Armlets are also made of native shell-money worked
into patterns. Sometimes a couple of curved boar’s-tusks are joined
together for this purpose. Excluding the shell armlets, those most
frequently worn are made of what is commonly known as “dyed grass.” This
material, however, consists, for the most part, of the strips of the
vascular tissue of ferns, belonging to _Gleichenia_ and other genera,
which are neatly plaited together in patterns (_vide_ page 281.) The
prettiest specimens of this work are to be obtained at Savo. The same
plaited armlets are worn by the Admiralty Islanders.[113] In some parts
of New Guinea, strips of rattan are worked in with this material.[114]
. . . In the Solomon Islands, armlets are usually worn on the left arm.
The native usually carries his pipe or his tobacco tucked inside them.
They are often worn very tight, especially in the case of the plaited
armlets, which actually constrict the limb.
[112] By “armlet,” I mean an ornament encircling the arm above the
elbow.
[113] There is a chromo-lithograph of these ornaments in the
“Narrative of the Cruise of the ‘Challenger.’”
[114] Specimens in British Museum collection.
Nose ornaments are not commonly worn in the eastern islands, though the
nasal septum is generally pierced by a hole for the appendage which may
be of tortoise-shell, bone, shells, &c. Youths keep the hole patent by
retaining in it a small piece of wood of the thickness of a lead pencil,
and between one and two inches in length. The tip of the nose is
frequently pierced by a small hole about half an inch deep, in which a
small peg of wood is sometimes placed which projects beyond the nose and
gives the face an odd appearance.
The lobes of the ears are perforated by holes, which by continual
distension become of the size of a crown-piece and often larger. In some
islands, as in Santa Anna, a disc of white wood 1½ to 2 inches in
diameter is placed in these holes. Sometimes they are kept in shape by
the insertion of a shaving of wood rolled into a spiral; but more
frequently they are left empty. Singular uses are made of these holes in
the lobes of the ear, pipes and matchboxes being sometimes placed in
them. On one occasion, Taki, the Wano chief, came on board with a heavy
bunch of native shell-money hanging from each ear, a sign of mourning,
as he informed us, for a recently deceased wife. In some instances, more
particularly amongst the elder men, the pendulous loop formed by the
distended hole in the lobe becomes severed and hangs in two pieces. I am
told that when these loops break, the two parts are readily joined by
paring the torn surfaces obliquely and binding them together.
The natives of the islands of Bougainville Straits pay less attention to
personal decoration than do those of St. Christoval and the adjacent
islands. The large _Tridacna_ armlets are not often worn, the small
shell armlets being those generally preferred, and as in the case of
those worn in the eastern islands, their number indicates the rank and
wealth of the wearer. The plaited arm-bands described on page 132 are
frequently worn. Armlets made of trade beads are favourite ornaments of
the women: when visiting the houses of the chiefs, I have sometimes
found their wives employed in this kind of fancy-work, small red, blue,
and white beads being tastefully worked together in the common zig-zag
pattern. Here, as in the eastern islands, the septum of the nose is
pierced by a hole, but I rarely saw any ornament suspended from it. The
women of Treasury Island, however, sometimes wear in this aperture a
tusk-like ornament, 1½ to 2 inches long, which is made from the shell of
the giant clam. Occasionally I have observed clay pipes carried in this
perforation in the nasal septum. Here, also, the lobes of the ears are
pierced by large holes, and in the older men they hang in loops 2 to 3
inches in length.
The men of Simbo (Narovo Island) streak their countenances with lime,
whilst the boys of Treasury Islands sometimes paint their faces around
the eyes with the red ochreous earth that they employ for staining the
hair. The young lads of Faro occasionally adorn their faces with silvery
strips of a fish’s swimming-bladder which they plaster on their cheeks.
In the matter of personal decoration I should observe that the men
usually wear the plumes, not that the women dislike decorations, but
because they do not often have the opportunity of wearing them. If a
trade necklace or some similar ornament is given to a woman, it will
very soon be observed adorning the person of her husband. An incident of
this sort particularly annoyed me on one occasion in the island of St.
Christoval; but I might as well have tried to persuade a pig that it was
a glutton as have attempted to convince a native that such a transaction
was ungallant. In some islands it is the custom for the husband on the
occasion of a festival to load his favourite wife with all his worldly
wealth in the form of the native bead money; and, as at Santa Anna, the
wives of the headmen parade about the village thus heavily attired and
presenting such a picture of “portable property” as would have gladdened
the heart of Mr. Wemmick himself. This shell-money, to which I have
frequently referred in this work, and which is so often employed in
personal decoration, consists of small pieces of shells of different
colours shaped and strung together like beads. In the eastern islands,
this money is largely derived from the natives of Malaita. Six fathoms
of it are said to be sufficient for the purchase of a pig. The same kind
of money is used by the inhabitants of the Admiralty Islands, New
Ireland, New Guinea, and the New Hebrides. In the last two localities it
is worked into armlets.[115]
[115] The natives of the Solomon Islands also occasionally employ as
money the teeth of fish, porpoises, fruit-eating bats (_Pteropidæ_),
and of other animals.
The men of the Solomon Islands are very fond of placing in their hair a
brightly-coloured flower such as that of _Hibiscus tiliaceus_, or a
pretty sprig, or the frond of a fern. My native companions in my
excursions rarely passed a pretty flower without plucking it and placing
it in their bushy hair; and they were fond of decorating my helmet in a
similar fashion. Sometimes one individual would adorn himself to such an
extent with flowers, ferns, and scented leaves, that a botanist might
have made an instructive capture in seizing his person. In addition to
the flowers placed in his bushy mass of blackish-brown hair, he would
tuck under his necklace and armlets sprigs and leaves of numerous
scented plants, such as _Evodia hortensis_ and _Ocymum sanctum_. He
would take much pleasure in pointing out to me the plants whose scented
leaves are employed in the native perfumery, most of which are of the
labiate order, and are to be commonly found in the waste ground of the
plantations. The women seldom decorate themselves in this manner. Those
of Bougainville Straits make their scanty aprons of the leaves of a
scitamineous plant named “bassa” which, when crushed in the fingers,
have a pleasant scent.
The fondness for decorating the person with flowers and scented herbs
has been frequently referred to by travellers in their accounts of the
natives of other parts of the Western Pacific. Mr. George Forster tells
us that the people of Tanna and Mallicolo in the New Hebrides place
inside their shell armlets bunches of the odoriferous plant, _Evodia
hortensis_, together with the leaves of crotons and other plants.[116]
We learn from Mr. Macgillivray,[117] and from Mr. Stone,[118] that the
natives of the south-east part of New Guinea are similarly fond of
decorating themselves with flowers and scented leaves which they place
in the hair and inside their armlets and necklaces.
[116] “A Voyage round the World,” by George Forster, London, 1777;
(page 276.)
[117] “Voyage of H.M.S. ‘Rattlesnake,’” by John Macgillivray;
London, 1852.
[118] “A few months in New Guinea,” by O. C. Stone; London, 1880.
Tattooing is practised amongst both sexes in many islands; but the
process differs from that ordinarily employed in the circumstance that
the pigment is frequently omitted, and for this reason the marks are
often faint and only visible on a close inspection. In this manner the
natives of St. Christoval and the adjacent islands have their cheeks
marked by a number of shallow grooves arranged in a series of
chevron-lines, and differing but little if at all from the general
colour of the skin. On the trunk the lines are of a faint blue hue, and
here a pigment is more frequently used. The process, as employed in the
island of Santa Anna, consists in deeply abrading the skin with such
instruments as a piece of a shell, the flinty edge of the bamboo, the
tooth of a large fruit-eating bat (_Pteropidæ_), or even by the long
finger-nails. The older lads have to submit themselves to this operation
before they obtain the rights of manhood; and I was informed that during
its progress they are kept isolated in a house and fed on the blood of a
certain fish (?). After it is completed, they are at liberty to marry,
and they are allowed to take part in the fighting and in the fishing
expeditions.
Tattooing is not generally practised amongst the people of the islands
of Bougainville Straits. I only observed it in a few instances, more
particularly amongst the women, when it resembles that which has been
above described. A party of men from the village of Takura on the coast
of Bougainville, whom I met on one occasion, had their faces marked with
shallow linear grooves of much the same colour as the skin, which
commenced at the “alæ nostri,” and, curving over the cheek-bones,
terminated above the eyebrows. These lines were more distinct than those
which mark the faces of the natives in the eastward islands, although
they were probably produced in a similar manner. Another pattern of
tattooing, which may be described as a branching coil, is to be found in
the representation of the head of a native of Isabel Island, which was
obtained from a mould taken in D’Urville’s expedition in 1838.[119] Some
men of the districts of the Uta Pass and Urasi on the north coast of
Malaita, whom I met on one occasion, had their faces marked with a
double or a single row of blueish dots commencing on the cheek-bones and
meeting on the forehead.
[119] Plate vi.: Atlas Anthropologie; “Voyage au Pole Sud et dans
l’Océanie.”
In the place of tattooing, the inhabitants of the islands of
Bougainville Straits ornament their bodies with rows of circular and
somewhat raised cicatrices which are usually about the size of a
fourpenny piece and about a third of an inch apart. In the case of the
men, the shoulders, upper arms, and chest are thus marked: a double row
of cicatrices commences on the shoulder-blade of either side, and
crossing the upper arms near the apex of the insertion of the deltoid
muscle these rows arch over the armpits and meet at the lower part of
the sternum. The chiefs and their sons often have an additional row of
these marks. Although this is the common fashion, one sometimes meets
men who have the cicatrices confined to the chest or to the shoulders,
or to only one side of the body. Amongst the women, the shoulders, upper
arms, and breasts are similarly marked as shown in the engraving here
given, and in addition they have these rows of cicatrices across the
inside of the thigh. A triple row across the left breast distinguished
the principal wife of the chief of Treasury Island. This method of
ornamenting the body with raised cicatrices, which I also observed in
the case of the party of Takura natives above referred to, would appear
to be a sign of manhood and womanhood, as it is not to be found amongst
the younger of either sex. With regard to the mode of producing these
marks, I could only ascertain that they were made by placing the
powdered dust of touchwood on the skin and then igniting it. To produce
such a permanent and indelible cicatrix, I should think it probable that
means were employed to convert the burn into a festering sore. The light
colour of these scars would appear to indicate that no pigment is used
in the process. I should remark that this custom of raising the skin in
cicatrices, especially on the shoulders, breasts, and thighs, is very
prevalent among the Papuans of the south and south-west coasts of New
Guinea.[120] Mr. Mosely describes the same method of ornamenting the
body as he observed it amongst the men of the Admiralty Islands.[121]
[120] “Papuans” by G. W. Earl; (p. 5.)
[121] Journ. Anthrop. Inst. vol. vi., p. 379.
It may be here noticed, that the practice of circumcision is apparently
not to be met with in these islands, except, as observed by Dr.
Codrington, in the pure Polynesian settlements,[122] with which,
however, I did not come into contact.
[122] Ibid., vol. x., p. 261.
I have previously described the modes of wearing and of decorating the
hair (pages 116, 134), and can only make a few remarks here. In some
islands, as at Ugi, the young boys have the entire scalp shaven with the
exception of two tufts on the top of the head. Then again, at the other
extreme of life, it is often the custom for old women to assist the
natural falling-off of the hair and remove it altogether. As a sign of
mourning, the hair may be trimmed, cut close, or shaved off.
The Solomon Islander often carries his comb stuck in his bushy hair. As
shown in the figure in this work, the comb in common use throughout this
group resembles very much in pattern and mode of workmanship that which
is in use in parts of New Guinea, the Admiralty Islands, the Tonga
Group, and other islands of the Western Pacific. The combs of different
islands may vary somewhat in details, but they belong all to this
pattern, being usually made of a hard dark wood, the teeth consisting of
separate pieces either bound tightly or glued together by a kind of
resin. The handles and upper parts are often prettily decorated with the
plaited “dyed grass,” so-called (_vide_, page 132). An excellent
coloured illustration of an Admiralty Island comb is to be found in the
official narrative of the cruise of the “Challenger.” In the islands of
Bougainville Straits, the native often carries in his hair an instrument
of three prongs rudely fashioned out of bamboo, as shown in one of the
figures. It is used as much for scratching the head as for combing the
hair.
Head-coverings are rarely to be found in this group, except in
Bougainville and Bouka. A native of Treasury showed me a singular
conical hat which he had brought from Bouka. It really was a double hat,
one inside the other, the inner hat being made of the leaf of the
“kiari,” a species of _Heliconia_, and the outer of the fan-shaped leaf
of the “firo,” a palm of the genus _Licuala_. A band of the so-called
plaited “dyed grass” encircles the base and keeps the hat on the head. A
similarly shaped hat but smaller and shorter, and made of the leaf of
the “kiari,” was worn by some Bougainville natives from the village of
Takura, whom I met in Fauro Island. It was placed towards the back of
the head; and as it covered only a small portion of the crown, it was
evidently more ornamental than useful. In addition, these natives wore a
little bunch of feathers on each temple. Their appearance in this
grotesque head-dress was rather ludicrous.
It is a remarkable circumstance that although the Solomon Islanders, as
a rule, wear no protective covering for the head, the carved figures of
their tambu-posts are usually represented with very European-looking
hats. These carved tambu-posts have various uses (_vide_, page 32). In a
similar manner in Bougainville Straits, the hat is to be noticed in the
case of the little wooden figures which are fastened on the stems of
canoes as protective deities. . . . . . . Where these islanders first
obtained their idea of a hat of this shape is a matter for speculation.
It may have been originally suggested by the hats of the Spanish
soldiers three centuries ago, who by means of their musketry seldom
failed to make a lasting impression of their visit during the six months
spent by the expedition in the group.
[Illustration: Hanging-hook.
Comb.
Fish-float.
Series of patterns, derived from the chevron or zig-zag line, which are
used for decorative purposes by the Solomon Islanders. The principal
steps in the series are alone indicated, the intermediary stages being
often exemplified in the ornamental designs of these natives. (The
dotted lines are my own).]
Sunshades in the form of a peak of plaited grass bound to the forehead
and projecting over the eyes are occasionally worn by the natives of
Bougainville Straits, whilst fishing in canoes, in order to protect
their eyes from the sun’s glare on the water. In Ugi, these sunshades
are sometimes worn on gala days. They did not, however, appear to be in
constant use in any part of the group which we visited.
The common decorative pattern employed by the natives of the islands
that we visited was the chevron line. It is the pattern used in
tattooing the face in the eastern islands; and it is represented in
alternating hues of red, white, and black, on the fronts of
tambu-houses. It is rudely cut on the outer border of the small shell
armlets of St. Christoval, and ornaments the cooking-pots and
drinking-vessels of Bougainville Straits. (_See Illustration._) In some
of the shell armlets a continuous lozenge or diamond-shaped design is
produced by the arrangement of the chevron lines as shown in the
woodcut. The advance from this design to the disconnected lozenge
pattern is then but an easy gradation. These chevron lines are often
curiously transformed. The Z pattern of inlaid mother-of-pearl, which is
shown in the illustration of the canoe-god, is apparently but a broken
chevron line. On the heads of the Treasury spears fantastic patterns are
cut out in which the chevron design is adapted to the human skeleton
(_See illustration_). . . . . . I may here add that the bamboo boxes
used for the betel lime are ornamented with rectilinear patterns
(scratched on their surfaces) which resemble those used in ornamenting
the similar lime boxes of New Guinea, Borneo, and Sumatra.[123] The
ornamental dance-clubs of Bougainville Straits exactly resemble the
clubs from New Ireland and possess those singular distorted
representations of the human face which characterise New Ireland
ornamentation.
[123] Exhibited in the British Museum Ethnological collection.
Caution is required in studying the modes of ornamentation of these
islanders. The remark made by the Rev. Mr. Lawes, in reference to the
women of the Motu tribe in New Guinea,[124] that they are glad to get
new tattooing patterns from the printed calicoes, is equally applicable
to some of the Solomon Island natives. On one occasion I was gravely
informed by a native, as a fact likely to add to their interest, that
some designs I was copying had this origin.
[124] Journ. Anthrop. Inst. vol. VIII., p. 369.
The Solomon Island songs, although often monotonous to the cultivated
ear, appeared to me to be in consonance with the wild character of these
islanders. Often when I have stopped to rest and enjoy a pipe in the
midst of my excursions, it may have been beside a stream in the wood or
on the edge of a tall cliff overlooking the sea, my native companions
have sat down and commenced their monotonous chanting, which, discordant
as it may have sometimes seemed to me, appeared to be in unison with my
surroundings. Now raised to a high key, now sinking to a low, subdued
drone, now hurried, now slow and measured, these rude notes recalled to
my mind rather the sounds of the inanimate world around me, such as the
sighing of the wind among the trees or the shrill whistle of the gale,
the noise of the surf on the reef or the rippling of the waves on the
beach, the rushing of a mountain torrent or the murmuring of a rivulet
in its bed. My thoughts at such times recurred to those unpolished ages
in the history of nations when the bard attuned his melody to the voices
of the waves, the streams, and the wind, and found in the mist or in the
cloud his expression for the shadowy unknown. At no time have the poems
of Ossian appeared to my mind to be invested with greater beauty than
when I have been standing in solitude in some inland dell or on some
lofty hill-top in these regions. The song of the bard of Selma, despite
its ruggedness, on such occasions, appealed more powerfully to my
imagination than many more finished verses, and seemed more in keeping
with scenes that owed to man nothing, remaining as they had been for
ages, Nature’s handiwork.
Frequently whilst descending some steep hill-slope or whilst following
the downward course of a ravine, my natives were wont to make the woods
echo with their shouts and their wild songs. The natural impulse to make
use of the vocal organs whilst descending a mountain is worth a moment’s
remark. Often I found myself involuntarily shouting with my savage
companions, when their loud peals of laughter attracted my attention.
Some years ago, when visiting the Si-shan Mountains which lie behind the
city of Kiukiang on the south bank of the Yang-tse, I remember listening
to the cries of the Chinese wood-cutters as they returned in the evening
down the narrow gorges that led to their homes. As their shouts died
away in the higher parts of the mountain, the echo was caught by the
wood-cutters below, and was answered back in such a manner that the men
further down the gorges took up the cry.
[Illustration: WAR DANCE and CANNIBAL SONG.
_Tempo di marcia._
(Music)
Ko-pi-e-e Ko-pi-e-e ta-li Sor-si-o
u-la mu-la ta-li Ko-pi-e-e-e Ko-pi-e-e-e
ta-li Sor-si-o u-la mu-la ta-li
No. 2.
(Music)
No. 3.
(Music)
Li-li a-ma-lo-o Li-li a-ma-lo-o A-
-ma-lo na-va-ka-ro ka-ro Si-si na-ka-ri-e.
NOTE.--The vowels to be pronounced as follows: _a_ as in “tar,” _e_ as
in “obey,” _i_ as in “ici,” _o_ as in “so,” _u_ as in “rule.”]
The training of natives of these islands by the Melanesian Mission at
Norfolk Island has shown that the compass of their voices and their ear
for music are capable of much cultivation. When staying with Bishop
Selwyn at Gaeta in the Florida Islands, I heard familiar hymn-tunes sung
with as true an appreciation of harmony as would be found in the Sunday
School of an English village, and sung by a congregation of natives of
both sexes, who, with the exception of their teachers, had never left
their island.
During our lengthened sojourn in Bougainville Straits, we became very
familiar with the popular tunes of the natives; and through the
exertions of Mr. Isabell, I have been able to reproduce in this work
three of the commonest airs.[125] The songs are usually sung in chorus,
and a droning accompaniment is often introduced by some of the men which
is especially well given in the second tune. There appear to be four or
five common airs. All are short and most of them have refrains which are
repeated over and over again. The first tune is a cannibal song and is
sung at the war dances. Its words, as I learned from Gorai, the
Shortland chief, are the address of a man to his enemy, in which he
informs him of his intention to kill and eat him. The second tune,
though not possessing words, is often sung or rather chanted by the men.
When sung by a number of persons, its wild music is to an imaginative
mind very suggestive of the savage life. I have heard it sung by about
forty men whilst passing the night with them in the village of Sinasoro
in Faro Island. The tambu-house, in which we were, was dimly lighted,
and the natives were squatting around a wood-fire chanting their wild
song in chorus, and terminating it in a fashion that sounded very abrupt
to the white man’s ear. The third tune is a pretty air which the men of
the “Lark” used to play with the concertina in waltz time. The words,
accompanying it, have a music of their own. I learned from the natives
of Treasury Island that this tune was brought from Meoko (Duke of York
Islands) not long since.
[125] Mr. Isabell was indebted for assistance to Mr. Tremaine of
Auckland, N.Z.
The Pandean pipe is the musical instrument in common use amongst the
natives of the Islands of Bougainville Straits. I did not notice it in
St. Christoval and the adjacent islands at the other end of the group,
where it is either not known or but rarely used. The distribution of
this instrument in the Pacific is interesting. It is figured by
D’Albertis in his work on New Guinea, and there are specimens in the
British Museum Collection from Brumer’s Island off this coast, as well
as from the Admiralty Islands, the New Hebrides, the Tonga Group, and
New Zealand. The instruments from all these localities are distinguished
from the Solomon Island pan-pipe by the reeds being arranged in a single
row and being of a much smaller size. They are also more neatly made.
Those used by the Treasury and Shortland natives are composed of a
double row of from 6 to 8 reeds, the second row being merely added to
give support to the instrument. The longest reed is usually a foot in
length and three quarters of an inch in bore; whilst the shortest reed
is about 5 inches long and rather less than half an inch in bore. Some
natives prefer instruments having twice this length. The Pandean pipes,
played at the public dances of Alu, are of very large size, the length
of the longest reed of one which I measured being between 3½ and 4 feet.
At such performances, the air is given by the smaller pipes; whilst the
bass notes of the larger pipes form a droning but harmonious
accompaniment. The music of these instruments, being in the usual
contracted compass, is of a somewhat monotonous character. Those of
Treasury Island are said to be only adapted for playing one tune, which
is the second air given on the page. I learn from Mr. Isabell, who was
interested in this matter, that the natives vary the number of reeds in
the instrument according to the air it is intended to play. The musician
accompanies his melody with a nodding of the head and a swaying of the
body on the hips, movements which are anything but expressive and are in
fact rather ludicrous.
Jew’s harps of foreign manufacture are much in demand amongst persons of
both sexes and all ages throughout the Solomon Group. In the eastern
islands they fashion them of bamboo, as in the New Hebrides and New
Guinea;[126] but I did not observe any native-made instruments amongst
the people of Bougainville Straits. The women of Treasury Island produce
a similar though softer kind of music by playing, somewhat after the
fashion of a Jew’s harp, on a lightly made fine-stringed bow about 15
inches long. This is held to the lips and the string is gently struck
with the fingers, the cavity of the mouth serving as a resonator. . . .
That school-boy’s delight, the “paper-and-comb instrument,” finds its
counterpart in these islands. On one occasion, when I was enjoying a
pipe and watching the surf on the south coast of Stirling Island, a
young lad, who accompanied me, amused himself with some rude music by
holding in front of his lips, as he hummed a native air, a thick leaf in
which he had made a hole about half an inch wide, leaving the thin
transparent epidermis intact on one side; the vibration of this thin
membrane gave a peculiar twang to his voice.
[126] Mr. Mosely in his “Notes by a Naturalist” gives an
illustration of a Jew’s harp from the New Hebrides.
The drum in common use in the different islands we visited was made of a
portion of the trunk of a tree, 8 to 10 feet long, hollowed out in its
interior and possessing a slit in the middle. It is placed lengthways on
the ground, and is struck by two short sticks. Similar drums are
employed by the inhabitants of the New Hebrides[127] and the Admiralty
Islands.[128] This pattern may therefore be described as the Melanesian
drum. A kind of sounding-board, placed in a pit in the ground and struck
by the feet of the dancers, is described in my account of the dances of
these islanders (_vide_ page 144).
[127] “A year in the New Hebrides” by F. A Campbell, p. 108. The
drums are placed erect in the earth.
[128] Mosely’s “Notes by a Naturalist on the ‘Challenger,’” p. 471.
As conches, the two large shells, _Triton_ and _Cassis_ are commonly
used. For this purpose, a hole is pierced for the lips on the side of
the spire.
Dancing is performed on very different occasions in these islands.
Besides the war, funeral, and festal dances, there are others which
partake of a lascivious character both in the words of the accompanying
chant and in the movements of the hands and body. Whilst visiting the
small island of Santa Catalina, I saw one of these dances performed by
young girls from 10 to 14 years of age. An explanation of their
reluctance to commence, which at first from my ignorance of what was to
follow I was at a loss to understand, soon offered itself in the
character of the dance, and evidently arose from a natural sense of
modesty that appeared strange when associated with their subsequent
performance. There are, however, other dances, purely sportive in their
nature. Of such a kind were some which were performed for my benefit at
the village of Gaeta in the Florida Islands. About twenty lads, having
formed a ring around a group of their companions squatting in the
centre, began to walk slowly round, tapping the ground with their left
feet at every other step, and keeping time with a dismal drone chanted
by the central group of boys. Every now and then the boys of the ring
bent forward on one knee towards those in the middle, while at the same
time they clapped their hands and made a peculiar noise between a hiss
and a sneeze: the chant then became more enlivening and the dancing more
spirited. On the following day the women of the village took part in a
dance which was very similar to that of the boys, except that there was
no central group, and that they wore bunches of large beans around the
left ankle which made a rattling noise when they tapped the ground at
every other step with the left foot. Bishop Selwyn, to whom I was
indebted for the opportunity of witnessing these dances in the village
of Gaeta, informed me that in the Florida Islands, dancing is often more
or less of a profession, troupes of dancers making lengthened tours
through the different islands of this sub-group.
[Illustration]
During a great feast that was held in the island of Treasury, the
following dance was performed. Between thirty and forty women and girls
stood in a ring around a semi-circular pit, 5 feet across, which was
sunk about 4 feet in the ground. A board, which was fixed in the pit
about half way down, covered it in with the exception of a notch at its
border. On this board stood two women, and as they danced they stamped
with their feet, producing a dull hollow sound, to which the women of
the circle timed their dancing, which consisted in bending their bodies
slightly forward, gently swaying from side to side, and raising their
feet alternately. All the while, the dancers sang in a spirited style
different native airs. Now and then, a pair of women would dance slowly
round outside the circle, holding before them their folded pandanus mats
which all the performers carried.[129]
[129] The employment of a hole in the ground as a resonator does not
appear to be common. Mr. Mosely in his “Notes by a Naturalist,” p.
309, refers to a somewhat similar use of holes in the ground by the
Fijians who place a log-drum of light wood over three holes and
strike it with a wooden mallet.
I was present at a dance given on one occasion at Alu, preparatory to a
great feast which was about to be held. Soon after sunset the natives
began to assemble on the beach, and when Gorai, the chief, arrived on
the scene, between thirty and forty men arranged themselves in a circle,
each carrying his pan-pipe. They began by playing an air in slow time,
accompanying the music by a slight swaying motion of the body, and by
alternately raising each foot. Then the notes became more lively and the
movements of the dancers more brisk. The larger pipes took the part of
the bass in a rude but harmonious symphony, whilst the monotonous air
was repeated without much variation in the higher key of the smaller
instruments. At times one of the younger men stopped in the centre of
the ring, tomahawk in hand, and whilst he assumed a half-stooping
posture, with his face looking upwards, the musicians dwelt on the same
note which became gradually quicker and louder, whilst the dancing
became more brisk, until, when the tip-toe of expectation was apparently
reached, and one was beginning to feel that something ought to happen,
the man in the centre who had been hitherto motionless, swung back a
leg, stuck his tomahawk in the ground, and one’s feelings were relieved
by the dull monotone suddenly breaking off into a lively native air. . .
On another occasion, I was present at a funeral or mourning dance, which
was held in connection with the death of the principal wife of the Alu
chief. It will be found described on page 48.
I will conclude this chapter by alluding to a favourite game of the
Treasury boys which reminded me somewhat of our English game of
peg-tops. An oval pebble about two inches long is placed on a leaf on
the ground. Each boy then takes a similar pebble, around which a piece
of twine is wound; and standing about eight feet away, he endeavours in
the following manner to throw it so as to fall on the pebble on the
ground. The end of the twine is held between his fingers; and as the
twine uncoils, he jerks it backwards and brings his pebble with
considerable force on top of the other.
CHAPTER VIII.
CANOES--FISHING--HUNTING.
IN the eastern islands of the Solomon Group there is a considerable
uniformity in the construction of the canoe. “Dug-out” canoes are rarely
to be seen, except in the sheltered waters of some such harbour as that
of Makira, when they are provided with outriggers. In the case of the
built canoes, outriggers are not employed, and, in truth, the general
absence of outriggers is characteristic of this group. The small-sized
canoe, which is in common use amongst the natives of St. Christoval and
the adjacent islands, measures fifteen or sixteen feet in length and
carries three men. The side is built of two planks; whilst two narrower
planks form the rounded bottom. Both stem and stern are prolonged
upwards into beaks which are rudely carved; whilst the gunwale towards
either end is ornamented with representations both of fishes, such as
sharks and bonitos, and of sea-birds. The planks are sewn together, and
the seams are covered over with a resinous substance that is obtained
from the fruit of the _Parinarium laurinum_ which is a common tree
throughout the group. This resinous material takes some weeks to dry,
when it becomes dark and hard.
Of the larger canoes, which are similarly constructed, I will take as
the type the war-canoe. Its length is usually from 35 to 40 feet: its
sides are of three planks; and the keel is flat, the stem and stern
being continued upwards in the form of beaks. Native decorative talent
is brought into play in the decoration of the war-canoe. Its sides are
inlaid with pieces, usually triangular in form, of the pearl-shell of
commerce (_Meleagrina margaritifera_); and the small and large
_opercula_ belonging to shells of the _Turbinidæ_ with flat spiral discs
produced by grinding down ordinary Cone-shells (_Conidæ_) are similarly
employed. Along the stem and beak there is usually attached a string of
the handsome white cowries (_Ovulum ovum_), or of the pretty white
_Natica_ (_Natica mamilla_). In the island of Simbo or Eddystone, where
these shells are used in a similar manner to decorate the large canoes,
the white cowry marks the canoes of the chiefs; whilst the _Natica_
shell decorates those of the rest of the people.
The pretty little outrigger canoes of Makira on the St. Christoval coast
are only nine inches across; and the native sits on a board, resting on
the gunwales of his small craft. From one side there stretch out two
slender poles four or five feet in length and supporting at their outer
ends a long wooden float which runs parallel with the canoe.
The war-canoes have the reputation amongst resident traders of being
good sea-boats. They frequently make the passage between Malaita and
Ugi, traversing a distance of about thirty miles exposed to the full
force of the Pacific swell. A similarly exposed but much longer passage
of ninety miles is successfully accomplished by the war-canoes of Santa
Catalina, when the natives of this small island pay their periodical
visits to a friendly tribe on the coast of Malaita.
Skilfully managed, even the smaller canoes, which carry two or three
persons, will behave well in a moderately heavy sea. I frequently used
them and had practical experience of the dexterity with which they are
handled. On one occasion I was coasting along the west side of the
island of Simbo in an overladen canoe; and there was just enough “lop”
and swell to make the chances even as to whether we should have to swim
for it or not. It was astonishing to see the various manœuvres employed
by my natives to keep our little craft afloat--now smoothing off with
the blade of the paddle the top of the wave as it rose to the gunwale,
now dodging the swell and taking full advantage of its onward roll, now
putting a leg over each side to increase the stability of the canoe; by
such devices, in addition to continuous baling, I managed to escape the
unpleasantness of a ducking.
Although the larger canoes of the Solomon Islanders are apparently
suited to the requirements of the natives, yet the want of an outrigger
must be often felt, especially in making the unprotected sea passages
from one island to another. The natives of Bougainville Straits who, as
referred to below, occasionally fit their war-canoes, when heavy laden,
with temporary outriggers of stout bamboo poles, must evidently be aware
of the deficiencies of their canoes, unless thus provided: yet for some
reason or other they make no general use of this contrivance. Bishop
Patteson in 1866 was surprised to see on the St. Christoval coast an
outrigger canoe which had been built by the natives after the model of a
canoe that had been drifted over from Santa Cruz some years before.[130]
He says that the natives found it more serviceable than their own canoes
for catching large fish: yet in 1882 after a lapse of sixteen years, we
found no signs of this style of canoe having been adopted by the St.
Christoval natives. It seems to me that the explanation of the outrigger
canoe not being generally employed by the natives of these islands lies
in the arrangement of the larger islands of this group in a double line
enclosing a comparatively sheltered sea 350 miles in length, which is,
to a great extent, protected from the ocean swell. Thus, the
head-hunting voyages of the New Georgia natives to the eastward, which
may extend to Malaita 150 miles distant, are entirely confined to these
sheltered waters. The passages between Malaita and the eastern islands,
which I have referred to above, are, however, in great part exposed; but
they are only undertaken in very settled weather.
[130] “Life of Bishop Patteson,” p. 126 (S.P.C.K. pub.).
On account of the frequent communication which is kept up between the
different islands of Bougainville Straits, where open-sea passage of
from 15 to 25 miles have to be performed, the larger canoes are in more
common use and in greater number than in the eastern islands of the
group. These large canoes vary in length between 40 and 50 feet, are
between 3½ and 4 feet in beam, can carry from 18 to 25 men, and are
paddled double-banked. They are stoutly built with three lines of
side-planking and two narrow planks forming the bottom of the canoe: all
the planks are bevelled off at their edges and are brought, or rather
sewn, together by narrow strips of the slender stems of a pretty
climbing fern (_Lygonia_ sp.), the “asama” of the natives, which have
the pliancy and strength of rattan. The seams are caulked with the same
resinous material that is employed for this purpose in the eastern
islands, and is obtained from the brown nearly spherical fruits of the
“tita” of the native, the _Parinarium laurinum_ of the botanist.[131]
[131] The resin of this fruit is used for the same purpose in Isabel
and probably throughout the group. It is similarly used in the
Admiralty Islands. Narrative of the “Challenger,” page 719.
The natives of Bougainville Straits do not decorate their canoes to any
great extent; and in this they differ from those of St. Christoval, who,
as I have remarked, ornament the prows and gunwales with carvings of
fish and sea-birds, and inlay the sides with pearl-shell. The stems and
sterns of the large canoes of Faro and of Choiseul Bay are continued up
in the form of high beaks, which rise 12 to 15 feet above the water. I
was at first at a loss to find the explanation of these high beaks,
which give the canoes of Bougainville Straits such a singular
appearance. In the narratives of the voyages of Bougainville and
Surville who observed those high-beaked canoes, the former at Choiseul
Bay in 1768,[132] and the latter at Port Praslin, in Isabel, in
1769,[133] we find the explanation required, which is, that these high
prows, when the canoe is turned end on to the enemy, afford shelter
against arrows and other missiles.
[132] “Voyage autour du Monde:” 2nd edit. augment. Paris, 1772; Vol.
II., p. 187. In this work there is an engraving of one of these
canoes.
[133] “Discoveries of the French to the South-East of New Guinea,”
by M. Fleurieu. London, 1791 (p. 139).
For sea-passages, greater stability is sometimes given to the large
canoes of the Straits, by temporarily fitting them with an outrigger on
each side, in the form of a bundle of stout bamboos lashed to the
projecting ends of three bamboo poles placed across the gunwales of the
canoe. The large canoes, in crossing from one island to the other in the
Straits, employ often a couple of small lug-sails which are made from
calico or light canvas obtained from the traders. I never saw any sails
of native material: but it was worthy of remark that in 1792, when
Dentrecasteaux approached close to the west coast of the Shortland
Islands, he noticed “large canoes under sail,” which, to quote directly
from the narrative, “annonçoient une navigation active dans cet archipel
d’îles extrêmement petites.”[134] Why the natives of these Straits no
longer employ sails of their own manufacture, it is difficult to say.
The very recent introduction of trade calico cannot have caused them to
be set aside for those of the new material, since when a native wants to
have a sail, and has no calico, he has no recourse to sails of his own
manufacture. Rather, it would appear, that the canoes under sail, which
navigated these Straits a century ago, belonged to a people more
enterprising than the present inhabitants of these islands.
[134] “Voyage de Dentrecasteaux,” rédigé par. M. de Rossel, Paris,
1808: tom. I, p. 117.
To the stem of the canoe, just above the water-line, is sometimes
attached a small misshapen wooden figure, which is the little tutelar
deity that sees the hidden rock, and gives warning of an approaching
foe. One of these figures is shown in the accompanying illustration.
They are similarly employed by the natives of the adjacent island of
Simbo, and of other islands in this part of the group. Often they are
double-headed, so that the little deity may keep a watchful look-out
astern as well as ahead; and then they are placed on the tops of the
high beaks of the Faro canoes. Probably the Chinese custom of painting
eyes on the sides of the bows of the junks, and the similar practice of
the Maltese, in the case of their boats, may date back to the little
gods of wood that were attached to the bows and stems of the canoes of
their barbarous predecessors. The origin of the figure-heads of our
ships may perhaps be traced back to times of savagery when a similar
superstitious practice prevailed.
“Dug-out” canoes are only to be found in the sheltered waters of
Treasury Harbour. They are from 16 to 18 feet long, are provided with an
outrigger, and are so narrow that the occupant sits on a board placed on
the gunwales with only his feet and legs inside the canoe. In the quiet
waters of the anchorage at Simbo, the natives make use of a raft of
poles lashed together somewhat after the manner of a catamaran, such as
I have seen on the coast of Formosa.
A few remarks on the mode of paddling, and on the paddles employed, may
be here fitting. The long tapering blade,[135] which is in common use in
the eastward islands, gives place in Bougainville Straits to the oval
and sub-circular blades. All the paddles which I saw had cross-handles.
Those used by the women of the Straits are unusually light, more
finished, and are sometimes decorated with patterns in red and black.
According to the length of the journey, one or other of two styles of
progression is adopted. In short distances, they often proceed by a
succession of spurts with a stroke of 60 and more to the minute, each
spurt lasting a few minutes, and being followed by a short interval of
rest. In longer distances they employ a slower stroke of from 40 to 50
to the minute, which is varied by occasional spurts. On one occasion
when taking a journey of 12 miles in a war canoe, I was much struck with
the different kinds of strokes by which my crew of eighteen men varied
their exertions. They usually paddled along easily at about 50 strokes
to the minute: but every ten or fifteen minutes they began a series of
spurts, each spurt beginning with a short sharp stroke of about 60 to
the minute, and passing into a slow strong stroke of about 28 to the
minute. After a succession of these spurts, which occupied altogether
about five minutes, they settled down again into their previous easy
stroke of 50 to the minute. Frequent stoppages occur during the course
of a long journey, either for enjoying a chew of the betel-nut or for
smoking a pipe; and the average speed, from this reason, would not
exceed three miles an hour, whilst a day’s run, between daylight and
dusk, in fine weather would be from 25 to 30 miles.
[135] See illustration.
When a corpse is being transported in a canoe to its last resting-place
in the sea by the natives of the Shortlands, they adopt a funeral
stroke, pausing between each stroke of the paddle, and by a slight
back-water movement partly arresting the progress of the canoe. I
remember on one occasion, whilst watching a large canoe starting from
Ugi to the opposite coast of St. Christoval, remarking their singular
style of paddling. At every other stroke each man raised his arm and
paddle much higher in the air, and gave a vigorous dig into the water, a
very effective style as regards speed, and one likely to impress a timid
enemy with fear. . . . Before leaving this subject, I should refer to
the paddling-posture of these natives. All of them in the different
islands we visited squat down with their legs crossed, facing the bow.
The New Guinea practice of standing up to paddle a canoe did not come
under my observation except in the case of outrigger canoes, and in such
canoes it was not the rule. I should infer that the posture of sitting
or standing to paddle a canoe varies in accordance with the use of or
non-employment of an outrigger. If, as in the case of the Solomon Island
canoes, outriggers are rarely used, then the sitting posture will be
found to be the one adopted, since the unaided stability of the canoe
does not permit of the standing posture. If, on the other hand,
outriggers are usually employed, it follows that, as in certain parts of
New Guinea, the more effective posture of standing is preferred.
As fish form a staple diet of a large proportion of these islanders,
much ingenuity is shown in the methods devised for catching them. In the
eastern part of the archipelago, kite-fishing is commonly employed. A
kite[136] is flown in the air from the end of a canoe, and to it a
fishing-line is attached in place of the usual tail. Whilst the man in
the canoe paddles slowly ahead, the movement of the kite whisks the bait
about on the surface of the water; and when the fish bites, the kite
goes down. Instead of a hook and bait, the natives usually employ for
this mode of fishing some stout spider-web, which gets entangled around
the teeth and snout of the fish, and can be used several times. The
explanation of this plan of catching fish is probably as follows. The
kite swaying in the air offers some resemblance to an aquatic bird
hovering over the water where a shoal of small fish occurs. It thus
attracts the larger fish, who are said to follow the movements of these
birds, and are thus guided in the pursuit of the smaller fry. It is with
this object that the natives of the Society Group tie bunches of
feathers to the extremities of the long-curved poles which, projecting
from the fore-part of the canoe, support the lines.[137] As bearing on
this subject, I may remark that it is not uncommon in these seas to
observe porpoises, large fish, and sea-birds joining together in the
pursuit of small fry. On one occasion, when in my Rob Roy canoe, I got
into the thick of the fray. A large number of sea-birds were hovering
over the water, which was alive with fish, about a foot in length,
which, in pursuit of small fry, were themselves pursued by a shoal of
porpoises, and were pecked at by the birds as, in their endeavour to
escape, they leapt out of the water. It was a lively spectacle. The fish
jumped out of the water all around me, whilst the birds hovering within
reach of my paddle swooped down on them; and the huge porpoises, joining
lazily in the sport, rose quietly to the surface within a few feet of
the canoe, showed their dorsal fins, and dived again in pursuit of their
prey. I stupidly fired three shots with my revolver into the hovering
flock of birds; but it was not until after the third report that they
temporarily suspended the chase. . . . Another common method of fishing
in the eastern islands, which resembles in its idea that of the
kite-fishing, consists in the use of a float of wood about three feet in
length and rather bigger than a walking-stick. It is weighted by a stone
at one end, so that it floats upright in the water, a fishing-line with
the spider-web bait being attached to its lower end. The upper end of
the float, which is out of the water, is rudely cut in imitation of a
wading-bird; and here we have the same idea exhibited which I have
described above in the case of kite-fishing, the figure of the bird
being _supposed_ to attract the larger fish. There is, however, this
difference. A glance at one of these floats, one of which is figured
elsewhere, will convince anyone that a fish is not likely to be deceived
by such a sorry representation of a bird. Doubtless we have here an
instance of the survival of a more effective method of fishing, in which
the idea has been retained, but the utility has been lost. This plan is
in fact nothing more than the employment of a float, which is thrown
into the water by the fisherman, who follows it up in his canoe and
looks out for its bob.
[136] Some of these kites, which I saw, had a form rudely
representing a bird with expanded wings. Others had a squarish form
and were made of palm leaf.
[137] Ellis’s “Polynesian Researches,” Vol. I., p. 149-50.
In the eastern islands the fishing spear is frequently employed. With
this weapon in his hand, the native wades in the shallow water on the
flats of the reefs, and hurls it at any passing fish. The night-time is
often chosen for this mode of fishing. A party of natives provided with
torches, spread themselves along the edge of the reef and stand ready to
throw their spears as the fish dart by them. During the day, when the
reef-flats at low-tide are covered only by a small depth of water, the
fishermen advance in a semicircle until a fish is observed, when the two
wings close in, and the fish is surrounded. The kind of fish-spear which
they use much resembles that which Mr. Ellis describes in his account of
the Society Islands.[138] As shown in the engraving (p. 74), the head of
the fish-spear is composed of five fore-shafts of hard wood, notched at
their sides, and arranged around a similar fore-shaft. These are bound
together, and the whole is fitted into the end of a stout bamboo, giving
the weapon a total length of about seven feet. . . . . The fish-spear
does not appear to be so commonly used by the natives of Bougainville
Straits. There, its place is often taken by the bow and arrow, which are
weapons that are not in use amongst the natives of St. Christoval and
the adjacent islands at the eastern end of the group.
[138] “Polynesian Researches,” vol. I., p. 143.
I should here remark that, when fishing on the reefs, natives are
sometimes struck by the gar-fish with such force that they die from the
wound. The possibility of this occurrence has recently been doubted. But
that such is the case, we incidentally learned from the natives of the
Shortlands. The people of Wano, on the north coast of St. Christoval,
believe that the ghosts which haunt the sea, cause the flying-fish and
the gar-fish to dart out of the water and to strike men in the canoes;
and they hold that any man thus struck will die.[139] This superstitious
belief could only have arisen from the circumstance of natives having
met their death in this manner; and it is probable that in this respect
the larger flying-fish would be quite as much to be feared as the
gar-fish. Mr. Moseley, in his “Notes by a Naturalist,” p. 480, refers
to such an event as not of uncommon occurrence in some of the Pacific
Islands.[140]
[139] “Religious Beliefs and Practices in Melanesia,” by the Rev. R.
H. Codrington, M.A. Journal of Anthropological Institute, vol. X.
[140] _Vide_ also “Nature,” index of vol. XXVIII., for some further
correspondence on this subject.
The material, from which the natives of Bougainville Straits manufacture
the twine for their fishing-nets and lines, is usually supplied by the
delicate fibres lining the bark of the young branches of a stout
climber, which is known to the natives as the “awi-sulu.” This climber,
which is probably a species of _Lyonsia_, has a main stem of the size of
a man’s leg, which embraces a tree, whilst it sends its offshoots for a
distance of some 40 or 50 feet along the ground. It is the delicate
fibres lining the inside of the skin of the young procumbent branches
that the native selects for his purpose. By scraping the thin bark or
skin with the edge of a pearl-shell, the fibres are first cleared of
other material: they are then dried in the sun; and when dry, they are
arranged in small strands, three of which are twisted together into a
fine line by rolling them with the palm of the hand on the thigh. The
natives sometimes obtain the material for their nets and lines from the
common littoral tree, the _Hibiscus tiliaceus_, which they name
“dakatako.”
In making their nets, our common netting-stitch is employed, the needle
being of plain wood, 18 inches long, and forked at each end; whilst the
mesh employed is a piece of tortoise-shell, having for a width of an
inch a length of 2½ inches. The method of netting familiar to ourselves
appears to be generally employed amongst the native races of this
portion of the globe. We learn from the Rev. George Turner that in Samoa
the same stitch and the same form of needle are employed which are in
use in Europe.[141] The natives of Port Moresby, in New Guinea, net “so
precisely in our mode that the seamen of H.M.S. “Basilisk” took up their
shuttles and went on with their work.”[142] The needle employed at
Redscar Bay, on the coast of the same island, is more like our own, the
mesh being of tortoise-shell, two to three inches long.[143] When
Captain Bowen, of the ship “Albemarle,” was visited in 1791 by some
natives of the Solomon Islands who came off to him in their canoes, he
thought he had found in the apparently European workmanship of their
nets a clue to the fate of La Pérouse, a very pardonable error which
receives its explanation from the above facts.[144]
[141] “Nineteen Years in Polynesia” (London, 1861), p. 272.
[142] Moresby’s “New Guinea” (1876), p. 156.
[143] These specimens are in the British Museum Ethnological
collection.
[144] Dillon’s “Discovery of the Fate of La Pérouse” (1829), vol I.,
p. lxix.
[Illustration]
Fishing on the reef-flats with large hand-nets is a common occupation of
the men in the islands of Bougainville Straits. Some five or six men
form a party, each man carrying a pair of long hand-nets in which the
netting is stretched on a long bamboo some 20 feet in length and bent
like a bow, as shown in the accompanying figure. The fishing party wade
about on the flat near the edge of the reef, each man being about 20
paces apart, and dragging behind him a pair of these clumsy-looking
nets, one in each hand. When a fish is perceived they close round; and
every man spreads out his nets, one on each side like a pair of wings,
thus covering an extent of some 40 feet. By skilfully dropping his nets,
when it makes a rush in his direction, the native secures the fish,
which, dashing head first against one of the nets, gets its snout caught
in the meshes; and a couple of blows on the head complete the capture. I
have seen fish of the size of an ordinary bass caught in this manner.
Smaller nets, 4 to 6 feet in length, with a finer mesh, are used for
catching fish of less size. The large hand-net is known as the “sorau,”
and the small hand-net as the “saiaili.” Such is one of the commonest
methods of fishing in the Straits. For this purpose, fishing parties
often visit the uninhabited small islands and coral islets that lie off
the coasts. There they erect temporary sheds and remain for one or two
weeks. In the numerous uninhabited islets and small islands which I
visited, I frequently came on the temporary habitations erected by
fishing parties; whilst propped up against the trees were the long
bamboo poles on which the nets are stretched. The natives of St.
Christoval and the adjacent islands employ a similar method in fishing
on the reef-flats. Fishing parties often spend a week or two on the
small islands and reefs which lie off the St. Christoval coast; thus
the men of Wano visit for this purpose the islet of Maoraha, about 12
miles down the coast; whilst those of Sulagina cross over to the Three
Sisters, which are about the same distance away.
Dip-nets, such as I have seen in common use on the banks of the Chinese
rivers, are here employed, though on a smaller scale, for catching small
fish. They are usually 7 or 8 feet across, and are stretched on two
crossed bamboos. Seine-nets, much prized by the natives on account of
the labour expended in making them, and buoyed up with floats of the
square fruits of the _Barringtonia speciosa_, are commonly employed.
There are other modes of net-fishing, of which I am ignorant, some of
which probably came under the notice of the officers of the survey: and
I hope that in reading these remarks they may be induced to supplement
them with additional information.
The fish-hooks employed vary in form and workmanship in different parts
of the group. In the sheltered harbour of Makira, the natives whiff in
small outrigger-canoes for a small fish of the size of a smelt, using
very fine lines and small delicately made hooks of mother-of-pearl.
During our stay at the island of Simbo or Eddystone, one of the
principal articles of exchange between the natives and ourselves was a
somewhat clumsy kind of fish-hook used for catching large fish. The
shank is of pearl-shell cut in the shape of the body of a small fish, 2
to 2½ inches long, and rather less than half an inch wide. The hook
itself, which is destitute of barbs and is made of tortoise-shell, is
bound by strong twine to the tail-end of the shank. Considerable labour
must be expended in making one of these hooks: but so eager were the
natives for tobacco, that we were able to obtain them for small pieces
of this article which could not have been worth more than half a
farthing. It is worthy of note that in the island of Treasury, about 80
miles to the north-west, these hooks are not made by the natives, who
were anxious to obtain from us those which we had brought from Simbo.
Very similar, though larger, hooks are used by the natives of other
Pacific groups; amongst them I may refer to those employed by the
Society Islanders[145] for catching dolphins, albicores, and bonitos.
These hooks, wherever they are used, as I need scarcely add, answer the
purpose of both hook and bait. The fish-hooks of European manufacture,
which are one of the articles used in trading with the natives, are in
demand in many islands, though not in all. In some islands, in fact, the
native fish-hook is preferred.
[145] Ellis’s “Polynesian Researches,” vol. I. p. 146.
The various ingenious methods of ensnaring and decoying fish, which are
employed by the natives of this archipelago, would alone afford, to a
true enthusiast in the sport of fishing, materials for a small volume. A
plan which I saw employed at Ugi consisted in tying a living fish to the
end of a bamboo float and using it as a decoy for other fish. The
fisherman repairs to the reef when it is covered by a depth of between 2
and 3 feet of water. Placing the fish and bamboo float in the water, he
follows them up either in his canoe or on foot. The fish swims along,
drawing the bamboo float after it: it soon decoys some other fish from
its retreat, when the fisherman watches his opportunity and catches his
fish in a hand-net which he carries with him.
A singular mode of fishing, which Mr. Stephens of Ugi described to me as
being sometimes employed in that part of the group, may be here alluded
to. A rock, where fish resort, which lies 3 or 4 feet below the surface,
is first selected. On the surface of the water is placed a ring of some
supple stem so as to include within its circumference the rock beneath.
No fish on the rock will pass under this ring, which is gradually
contracted in size until the fish become crowded together, when they are
scooped up with a hand-net.
The following ingenious snare was employed on one occasion by my natives
in Treasury, when I was anxious to obtain for Dr. Günther some small
fish that frequented one of the streams on the north side of the island.
I was very desirous to have some of these fish, and my natives were
equally anxious to display their ingenuity in catching them. They first
bent a pliant switch into an oval hoop, about a foot in length, over
which they spread a covering of a stout spider-web which was found in
the wood hard by. Having placed this hoop on the surface of the water,
buoying it up on two light sticks, they shook over it a portion of a
nest of ants, which formed a large kind of tumour on the trunk of a
neighbouring tree, thus covering the web with a number of the struggling
young insects. This snare was then allowed to float down the stream,
when the little fish, which were between 2 and 3 inches long, commenced
jumping up at the white bodies of the ants from underneath the hoop,
apparently not seeing the intervening web on which they lay, as it
appeared nearly transparent in the water. In a short time one of the
small fish succeeded in getting its snout and gills entangled in the
web, when a native at once waded in, and placing his hand under the
entangled fish secured the prize. With two of these web-hoops we caught
nine or ten of these little fish in a quarter of an hour.
As in other Pacific groups, the natives sometimes catch fish by throwing
small bits of some poisonous fruit on the water, when in a short time
the fish rise dead to the surface. The crushed kernels of the fruits of
the common littoral _Barringtonia_ (_B. speciosa_) are thus employed by
the natives. I tried them on one occasion in a fresh-water lake in
Stirling Island, which abounded with fish, but after the lapse of two or
three hours, no dead fish appeared at the surface.
The use of dynamite for destroying fish, by white men in the group, has
led to its occasional employment for a similar purpose by the natives,
whenever white men have been thoughtless enough to give them this
substance. In August, 1882, I visited a village in the Bauro district on
the north coast of St. Christoval, which had lost its chief, a few days
before, from an injury to the hand, resulting from an accidental
explosion of dynamite whilst fishing. Such occurrences must not be
uncommon in these and other islands. In the previous April, we met with
a native teacher at Mboli Harbour who had lost one of his hands from a
similar cause.[146] At the end of May, 1884, I removed the left hand of
Captain Smith, the master of the labour-schooner “Lavina,” who had
received a very serious injury of the hand whilst fishing with dynamite
on the coast of Malaita. Some of the fresh-water fish which I sent to
Dr. Günther were obtained in this way through the kindness of Mr.
Curzon-Howe, the Government agent of the “Lavina;” and as I witnessed
the operation, I am in a position to pronounce on the hazardous nature
of the mode in which the dynamite was employed. . . . . With reference
to the natives, there are two very obvious reasons why this explosive
substance should not be permitted to get into their hands, even if we
disregard the hazard that would attend its use. In the first place, they
might employ it against white men and against their fellows; and in the
next place, its employment for obtaining fish would tend to encourage
the already too indolent habits of these islanders.
[146] Since writing the above, I have learned from my friend, Dr.
Luther, late of H.M.S. “Dart,” that he had to amputate on two
occasions in the cases of natives who had sustained severe injuries
of the hand whilst fishing with dynamite.
I pass on now to the subject of pig-hunting in these islands. Wild pigs
occurred in most, if not all, of the islands which we visited. I was
frequently warned by the natives, when undertaking a solitary excursion,
to look out for the boars, who attain a ferocity which, on account of
their powerful curved tusks, it would be dangerous to provoke unarmed.
On more than one occasion when alone, I came unexpectedly in the bush on
one of these boars, who are in appearance by no means despicable
antagonists. When they stand their ground, it is necessary to be
prepared for their onset; but as a rule they only indicate their
presence by the noise which they make when scampering away. In the
islands of Bougainville Straits, where there are numerous plantations of
sago palms, the wild pigs are very fond of the fruit of this palm before
the albumen of the seed attains its stony hardness. They often select as
their retreats the hollow trunks of the palms which have been felled and
emptied of the sago. Their habit of frequenting the plantations of sago
palms, and of feasting on the remains of the palms that have been lately
cut down and the pith removed, was observed by Captain Thomas Forrest in
the island of Gilolo, in the Indian Archipelago.[147] On the approach of
any special occasion of feasting, pig-hunting becomes a necessary sport
with the natives; but in addition, they frequently take to it for the
sake of replenishing their larders. With his spear and a couple of dogs,
a man is usually successful in getting his pig. The dogs bring the
animal to bay, when he is speared by the hunter, who, if alone, at once
sets to work to quarter and roast his quarry, and thus considerably
lightens the weight he has to carry back. During my excursions, my
natives used to frequently leave me when their dogs had roused a pig in
the bush; and on one occasion, when, much to my indignation, they had
been absent for an hour, they came back triumphantly with two large
boars. Captain Forrest, in his account of his voyage to New Guinea,
gives an illustration of “Papua men in their canoes hunting wild
hogs”[148] off the island of Morty, near the large island of Gilolo.
These men are represented with the spear, bow, and arrow, and a dog.
Such a method of hunting pigs never came under my notice in the Solomon
Islands and must necessarily be rarely employed.
[147] “A Voyage to New Guinea and the Moluccas.” London, 1779 (p.
39).
[148] Ibid., Plate XI. of book of plates.
Wild dogs are numerous in the bush in the interior of Alu. They never
attack the natives or the pigs and, as they always slink away when
alarmed, they are not often seen. They subsist on the opossums
(_Cuscus_), waiting to catch them at the foot of the trunks of the trees
as they descend to the ground at nightfall. When I was away on an
excursion with Gorai the Alu chief, the native dogs that were with us
ran down a wild dog and worried it to death. I came in at the death, and
was not very much pleased with the spectacle which afforded much
amusement to Gorai and his men. The unfortunate dog was apparently of
the native breed. How these animals have come to prefer this mode of
life I could not learn.
My native companions during my excursions rarely returned to their homes
without bringing back an opossum (_Cuscus_). Usually this animal was
caught without much trouble, as it slumbers during the day and may be
then surprised amongst the foliage of the tree where it finds its home.
Sometimes, however, when the keen eyes of my natives discovered an
opossum amongst the leafy branches overhead, we were enlivened by an
exciting hunt. On such occasions, one man climbs the tree in which the
animal is esconced whilst three or four other men climb the trees
immediately around. By dint of shouting and shaking the branches, the
opossum is started from its retreat, and then the sport commences. This
clumsy looking creature displays great agility in springing from branch
to branch, and even from tree to tree. Suspended by its prehensile tail
to the branch above, the _Cuscus_ first tests the firmness of the branch
next below, before it finally intrusts its weight to its support. It
runs up and down the stouter limbs of the tree like a squirrel; but its
activity and cunning are most displayed in passing from the branches of
one tree to those of another. At length, scared by the shaking of the
branches, and by the cries of the natives who have clambered out on the
limbs as far as they can get with safety, the opossum runs out towards
the extremity of the limb, proceeding cautiously to the very terminal
branchlets, until the weight of its body bends down the slender
extremities of the branch, and it hangs suspended by its tail in mid-air
about ten feet below. The gentle swaying of the branches in the wind,
aided probably by its own movements, swings the opossum to and fro,
until it approaches within grasp of the foliage of the adjoining tree.
Then the clever creature, having first ascertained the strength of its
new support, uncoils its tail. Up goes the branch with a swish when
relieved of its weight; and in a similar manner the opossum swings by
its tail from the slender branches of the tree to which it has now
transferred its weight. Finally the opossum reaches the ground, where
its awkward movements render it an easy capture. It is then tied to a
stick and carried home alive on the shoulder of a native.
The _Cuscus_ is a common article of food with these islanders; and in
some islands, as in Simbo or Eddystone, it is kept as a pet by the
natives. Out of seven opossums that were kept as pets on board the
“Lark,” all died within a few weeks, being apparently unable to
withstand captivity. Most of them, however, were young. The cause of the
death of one of them was rather singular. Immediately after its death
the skin of the animal was literally covered with small ticks about the
size of a pin’s head and distended with blood, whilst the body presented
the blanched appearance of an animal bled to death. It had been ailing
for a day or two before and was incessantly drinking all liquids it
could get, even its own urine: but the ticks had not been sufficiently
numerous to be observed; and in fact they appeared to have covered the
animal in the course of a single night. As I was informed by the natives
of Simbo, these animals subsist on the shoots and young leaves of the
trees: on board the “Lark” they cared for little else than bananas. They
make a curious clicking noise when eating, and often hold the substance
in their fore-paws. When taken out in the day-time from their boxes they
were half asleep, and at once tried to get out of the bright light into
the shade. In the night-time they were very restless in their prisons,
making continual efforts to escape between the bars, and as soon as they
were let out they moved about with much activity. The older animals are
sometimes rather fierce. One of them which belonged to the men used to
spend a considerable portion of its time up aloft; and, when in want of
food, it would descend the rigging and go down to the lower deck. Their
naked tails have a cold clammy feeling; and with them they were in the
habit of swinging themselves from any object. When the _Cuscus_ was
about to be taken up by its master, it moored itself to the nearest
object by means of its tail. It always descended a rope head first, but
kept its tail twined round the rope during its descent so as to be able
to withdraw itself at once if necessary, the tail supporting the greater
portion of its weight.