By E. W. HORNUNG.
IT is prejudicial to the nicest girl in this unjust world to be asked
in marriage too frequently. Things come out, and she gets the name
of being a heartless flirt; her own sex add, that she cannot be a
very nice girl. A flirt she is, of a surety, but why heartless, and
why not a nice girl? So grave defects do not follow. The flirt who
doesn't think she is one--the flirt with a set of sham principles
and ideals, and a misleading veneer of soul--is heartless, if you
like, and something worse. Now the girl who gets herself proposed to
regularly once a week in the season is far less contemptible; she is
not contemptible at all, for how could she know that you meant so much
more than she did? She only knows a little too much to take your word
for this.
A sweetly pretty and highly accomplished young girl, little Miss
Anstruther came to know too much to dream of taking any man's word on
this point. She was reputed to have refused more offers than a good
girl ought to get; for what in the very beginning conferred a certain
distinction upon her, made her notorious at a regrettably early stage
of her career. The finger of feminine disapproval pointed at her,
presently, in an unmistakable way; and this is said--by women--to be a
very bad sign. Men may not think so. Intensely particular ladies, in
the pride of their complete respectability, tried to impress upon very
young men in whom they were interested that Miss Anstruther was not at
all a nice girl. But this had a disappointing effect upon the boys. And
Miss Anstruther by no means confined herself to rejecting mere boys.
The moths that singed themselves at this flame were of every variety.
They would have made a rare collection under glass, with pins through
them; Miss Anstruther herself would have inspected them thus with the
liveliest interest. Her detractors also could have enjoyed themselves
at such an exhibition. But the more generous spirits among them--those
who had been young and attractive too long ago to pretend to be either
still--might have found there some slight excuse for Miss Anstruther.
Of course, it was no excuse at all, but it was notable that almost
every moth had some salient good point--something to "account for it"
on _her_ side, to some extent--say a twentieth part of the extent to
which she had gone. Nearly all the moths had _something_ to be said for
them--looks, intellect, a nice voice, an operatic moustache, or an
aptitude for the informal recitation of engaging verses; their strong
points, sorted out and fitted together, would have made a dazzling
being--whom Miss Anstruther would have rejected as firmly and as
finally as she had rejected his integral parts.
For there was no pleasing the girl. Apparently she did not mean to be
pleased--in that way. She had neither wishes nor intentions, it became
evident, beyond immediate flirtation of the most wilful description.
Her depravity was shocking.
Her accomplishment was singing. She sang divinely. Also she had
plenty of money; but the money alone was not at the bottom of many
declarations; her voice was the more infatuating element of the two;
and her "way" did more damage than either. She was not, indeed, aware
what a "way" she had with her. It was a way of seeming desperately
smitten, and a little unhappy about it; which is quite sufficient to
make a man of tender years or acute conscientiousness "speak" on the
spot. Thus many a proposal was as unexpected on her part as it was
unpremeditated on his. He made a sudden fool of himself--heard some
surprisingly sensible things from her frivolous lips--decided, upon
reflection and inquiry, that these were her formula--and got over the
whole thing in the most masterly fashion. This is where Miss Anstruther
was so much more wholesome than the flirt who doesn't think she flirts:
Miss Anstruther never rankled.
She had no mother to check her notorious propensity in its infancy,
and no brother to bully her out of it in the end. Her father, an
Honourable, but a man of intrinsic distinction as well, was queer
enough to see no fault in her; but he was a busy man. She had, however,
a kinsman, Lord Nunthorp, who used to talk to her like a brother on the
subject of her behaviour, only a little less heavily than brothers use.
Nunthorp knew what he was talking about. He had once played at being
in love with her himself. But that was in the days when his moustache
looked as though he had forgotten to wash it off, and before Miss
Anstruther came out. There had been no nonsense between them for years.
They were the best and most intimate of friends.
"Another!" he would say, gazing gravely upon her as the most
fascinating curiosity in the world, when she happened to be telling him
about the very latest. "Let's see--_how_ many's that?"
There came a day when she told Nunthorp she had lost count; and she
really had. The day was at the fag-end of one season; he had been
lunching at the Anstruthers' and Miss Anstruther had been singing to
him.
[Illustration: "LET'S SEE--HOW MANY'S THAT?"]
"I'm afraid I can't assist you," said he, with amused concern. "I only
remember the first eleven, so to speak. First man in was your rector's
son in the country, young Miller, who was sent out to Australia on the
spot. He _was_ the first, wasn't he? Yes, I thought that was the order;
and by Jove, Midge, how fond you were of that boy!"
"I was," said Miss Anstruther, glancing out of the window with a
wistful look in her pretty eyes; but her kinsman said to himself that
he remembered that wistful look--it went cheap.
"The next man in," said Nunthorp, who was an immense cricketer, "was
_me_!"
"I like that!" said Miss Anstruther, taking her eyes from the window
with rather a jerk, and smiling brightly. "You've left out Cousin Dick!"
"So I have; I beg Dick's pardon. It was very egotistical of me, but
pardonable, for of course Dick never stood so high in the serene
favour as I did. I came after Dick then, first wicket down, and since
then--well, you say yourself that you've lost tally, but you must have
bowled out a pretty numerous team by this time. My dear Midge," said
Nunthorp, with a sudden access of paternal gravity, "don't you think it
about time that somebody came in and carried his bat?"
"Don't talk nonsense!" said Miss Anstruther, briskly. She added, almost
miserably: "I wish to goodness they wouldn't ask me! If only they
wouldn't propose I should be all right. Why do they want to go and
propose? It spoils everything."
Her tone and look were quite injured. She was more indignant than
Nunthorp had ever seen her--except once--for the girl was of a most
serene disposition. He looked at her kindly, and as admiringly as ever,
though rather with the eye of a connoisseur; and he found she had still
the most lovely, imperfect, uncommon, and fragrant little face he had
ever seen in his life. He said candidly:
"I really don't blame them, and I don't see how you can. If you are to
blame anybody, I'm afraid it must be yourself. You must give them some
encouragement, Midge, or I don't think they'd all come to the point as
they do. I never saw such sportsmen as they are! They walk in and walk
out again one after the other, and they seem to like it----"
"I wish they did!" said Miss Anstruther, devoutly. "I only wish they'd
show _me_ that they liked it; I should have a better time then.
They wouldn't keep making me miserable with their idiotic farewell
letters. That's what they _all_ do. Either they write and call me
everything--rudely, politely, sarcastically, all ways--or they say
their hearts are broken, and they haven't the faintest intention of
getting over it--in fact, they wouldn't get over it if they could.
That's enough to make any person feel low, even if you know from
experience what to expect. At one time I daren't look in the paper for
fear of seeing their suicides; but I've only seen their weddings. They
all seem to get over it pretty easily; and that doesn't make you think
much better of yourself, you know. Of course I'm inconsistent!"
"Of course you are," said Nunthorp, cordially. "I approve of you for
it. I'd rather see you an old maid, Midge, than going through life in a
groove. Consistency's a narrow groove for narrow minds! I can do better
than this about consistency, Midge; I'm hot and strong on the subject.
But you're not listening."
"Ah!" cried Miss Anstruther, who had not listened to a word, "they're
driving me crazy, between them! There's Mr. Willimott, you know,
who writes. Of course he had no business to speak to me. There were
a hundred things against him at the time--even if I'd cared for
him--though he's getting more successful now. Well, I do believe he's
put me into every story he's written since it happened! I crop up in
some magazine or other every month!"
"'Into work the poet kneads them,'" murmured Nunthorp, who was not a
professional cricketer. "Well, you needn't bother yourself about _him_.
You've made the fellow. He now draws a heroine better than most men.
It's a pity you don't take to writing, Midge, you'd draw your heroes
better than women do as a rule; for don't you see that you must know
more about us than we know about ourselves?"
"They wouldn't be much of heroes!" laughed the girl. "But I heartily
wish I _did_ write. Wouldn't I show up some people, that's all! It
would give me something to do, too; it would keep me out of mischief,
and really I'm sick of men and their ridiculous nonsense. And they all
say the same thing. If only they wouldn't say anything at all! Why do
they? You might tell me!"
Nunthorp put on his thinking-cap. "You see, you are quite pretty," said
he.
"Thanks."
"Then you sing like an angel."
"Please don't! That's what _they_ all say."
"Ah, the singing has a lot to do with it; you oughtn't to sing so well;
you should cultivate less expression. And then--I'm afraid you like
attention."
"Well, perhaps I do."
"And I'm sure it must be very hard _not_ to be attentive to you," said
Nunthorp, with a rather brutal impersonality; "for I should fancy you
have a way--quite unconscious, mind--of giving your current admirer the
idea that he's the only one who ever held the office!"
"Thanks," said she, with perfect good-humour; "that's a very pretty way
of putting it."
"What, Midge?"
"That I'm a hopeless flirt--which is the root of the whole matter, I
suppose!"
She burst out laughing, and he joined her. But there had been a pinch
of pathos in her words, and he was weak enough to make a show of
contradicting them. She would not listen to him, she laughed at his
insincerity. The conversation had broken down, and, as soon as he
decently could, he went.
That was at the very end of a season; and Lord Nunthorp did not see his
notorious relative again for some months. In the following February,
however, he heard her sing at some evening party; he had no chance of
talking with her properly; but he was glad to find that he could meet
her at a dance the next night.
"Well, Midge!" he was able to say at last, as they sat out together at
this dance. "How many proposals since the summer?"
She gravely held up three fingers. Nunthorp laughed consumedly.
[Illustration: "SHE GRAVELY HELD UP THREE FINGERS."]
"Any more scalps?" he inquired.
This was an ancient pleasantry. It referred to the expensive presents
with which some young men had paved their way to disappointment. It
was a moot point between Miss Anstruther and her noble kinsman whether
she had any right to retain these things. She considered she had every
right, and declared that these presents were her only compensation for
so many unpleasantnesses. He pretended to take higher ground in the
matter. But it amused him a good deal to ask about her "scalps."
She told him what the new ones were.
"And I perceive _mine_--upon your wrist!" Nunthorp exclaimed, examining
her bracelet; and he was genuinely tickled.
"Well!" said she, turning to him with the frankest eyes, "I'd quite
forgotten _whose_ it was--honestly I had!"
He was vastly amused. So his bracelet--she had absolutely forgotten
that it was his--did not make her feel at all awkward. There was a
healthy cynicism in the existing relations between these two.
She had nothing very new to tell him. Two out of the last three had
proposed by letter. She confessed to being sick and tired of answering
this kind of letter.
"I'll tell you what," said her kinsman, looking inspired, "you ought
to have one printed! You could compose a very pretty one, with blanks
for the name and date. It would save you a deal of time and trouble.
You would have it printed in brown ink and rummy old type, don't you
know, on rough paper with coarse edges. It would look charming. 'Dear
Mr. Blank, of course I'm greatly flattered'--no, you'd say 'very'--'of
course I'm very flattered by your letter, but I must confess it
astonished me. I thought we were to be such _friends_.' Really, Midge,
it would be well worth your while!"
Miss Anstruther did not dislike the joke, from him; but when he added,
"The pity is you didn't start it in the very beginning, with young Ted
Miller"--she checked him instantly.
"Now don't you speak about _him_," she said, in a firm, quiet little
way; but he appreciated the look that swept into her soft eyes no
better than he had appreciated it six months before.
"Why not?" asked Nunthorp, merely amused.
"Because _he meant_ it!"
Nunthorp wondered, but not seriously, whether that young fellow, who
had gone in first, was to be the one, after all, to carry out his bat.
And this way of putting it, in his own head, which was half full of
cricket, carried him back to their last chat, and reminded him of a
thing he had wanted to say to her for the last twenty-four hours.
"Do you remember my telling you," said he, "when I last had the
privilege of lecturing you, that you sang iniquitously well? Then
I feel it a duty to tell you that your singing is now worse than
ever--in this respect. No wonder you have had three fresh troubles; I
consider it very little, with your style of singing. Your songs have
much to answer for; I said so then, I can swear to it now. Your voice
is heavenly, of course; but why pronounce your words so distinctly?
I'm sure it isn't at all fashionable. And why strive to make sense of
your sounds? I really don't think it's good form to do so. And it's
distinctly dangerous. It didn't happen to matter last night, because
the rooms were so crowded; but if you sing to one or two as you sing to
one or two hundred, I don't wonder at them, I really don't. You sing as
if you meant every word of the drivel--I believe you humbug yourself
into _half_ meaning it, while you're singing!"
"I believe I do," Miss Anstruther replied, with characteristic candour.
"You've no idea how much better it makes you sing, to put a little
heart into it. But I never thought of this: perhaps I had better give
up singing!"
"I'll tell you, when my turn comes round again," said he, leading her
back to the ballroom. "I'll think of nothing else meanwhile."
He did not dance; he was not a dancing man; but he did think of
something else meanwhile. He thought of a young fellow with a pale
face, darkly accoutred, with whom Miss Anstruther seemed to be dancing
a great deal. Lord Nunthorp hated dancing, and he had only come here to
sit out a couple of dances with his amusing relative. He had to wait a
good time between them; he spent it in watching her; and _she_ spent
it in dancing with the pale, dark boy--all but one waltz, during which
Nunthorp removed his attention from the bow to its latest string, who,
for the time being, looked miserable.
"Who," he asked her, as they managed to get possession of their former
corner in the conservatory, "is your dark-haired, pale-faced friend?"
"Well," whispered Miss Anstruther, with grave concern, "I'm very much
afraid that he is what _you_ would call the next man in!"
"Good heaven!" ejaculated Nunthorp, for once aghast. "Do you mean to
say he is going to propose to you?"
"I feel it coming; I know the symptoms only too well," she replied, in
cold blood.
"Then perhaps you're going to make a different answer at last?"
"My _dear_ man!" said Lord Nunthorp's sisterly little connection; and
her tone was that of a person rather cruelly misjudged.
The noble kinsman held his tongue for several seconds. Man of the
world as he was, he looked utterly scandalised. Here, in this fair,
frail, beautiful form, lay a depth of cynicism which he could not equal
personally--which he could not fathom in another, and that other a
quite young girl.
"Midge," he said at last, with sincere solemnity, "you horrify me!
You've often told me the kind of thing, but this is the first time I've
seen you with a fly actually in the web: for I don't think I myself
counted, after all. That boy is helplessly in love with you! And you
were smiling upon him as though you liked him too!"
Nunthorp was touched tremulously upon the arm. "Was I?" the girl asked
him, in a frightened voice. "_Was_ I looking--like that?"
"_I_ think you were," said Nunthorp, frankly. "And now you calmly scoff
at the bare notion of accepting him! You make my blood run cold, Midge!
I think you can have no heart!"
"Do you think that?" she asked, strenuously, as though he had struck
her.
"No, no; you know I don't; only after seeing you look at him like
that----"
"Honestly, I didn't know I was looking in any particular way." Miss
Anstruther added in a lowered, softened voice: "If I was--well, it
wasn't meant for _him_."
Lord Nunthorp dropped his eye-glass.
"And it wasn't meant for _you_, either!" she superadded, smartly enough.
Lord Nunthorp breathed again, and ventured to recommend an immediate
snub, in the pale boy's case.
[Illustration: "BUT I'VE GOT IT DOWN."]
When he had led her back to her chaperone, he felt easier on her
account than he had been for a long time. It was obvious to him that
the biter was bit at last. The right man was evidently in view, though
he was not there at the dance--which was hard on the white-faced youth.
Perhaps she was not the right girl for the right man--perhaps he
refused to be attracted by her. That would be odd, but not impossible;
and a girl who had refused to fall in love with every man who had
ever fallen in love with her, was the likeliest girl in the world to
care for some man who cared nothing for her--primarily to _make_ him
care. That is a woman, through and through, reflected Lord Nunthorp,
out of the recesses of a _recherché_ experience. But Midge would most
certainly make him care: she was fascinating enough to capture any
man--except himself--if she seriously tried: and he sincerely hoped
she was going to try, to succeed, and to live happily ever after. For
Nunthorp had now quite a paternal affection for the girl, and he wished
her well, from the depths of his man-of-the-world's prematurely grey
heart. But he did not like a little scene, with her in it, which he
witnessed just before he quitted that party.
"My dance!" said a boy's confident, excited voice, just behind him; and
the voice of Miss Anstruther replied, in the coldest of tones, that he
"must have made a mistake, for it was not his dance at all."
"But I've got it down," the boy pleaded, as yet only amazed; his face
was like marble as Nunthorp watched him; Miss Anstruther was also
slightly pale.
"She's doing her duty, for once," thought Nunthorp, to whom the pathos
of the incident lay in its utter conventionality. "But she plays a
cruel game!"
"You've got it down?" said Miss Anstruther, very clearly, examining
her card with ostentatious care. "Excuse me, but there is really some
mistake; _I_ haven't got _your_ name down for _anything_ else!"
For an instant, Nunthorp held himself in readiness for a scene: he half
expected to see the boy, whose white face was now on fire, snatch the
card from her, expose her infamy, tear up the card and throw the pieces
in her face. His face looked like it for a single instant, and Nunthorp
was prepared to protect him if he did it. But the boy went away without
a word.
Nunthorp met the girl's eyes with his. He knew she was looking for his
approval: he knew she had earned it, by preventing one poor fellow from
going the whole humbling length, and he was glad to think that she had
taken his advice: but the glance he gave her was very grim. He could
not help it. He went away feeling quite unlike himself.
Just outside, in the street, someone brushed past him, sobbing an
oath. And Lord Nunthorp became himself again; for the person was Miss
Anstruther's last victim.
"_That's_ all right," he muttered; "not a broken heart--only broken
pride. That's all that's breakable, after all, and it will mend!" He
walked home rather pleased with Midge, as he called her, for having
done her duty, no matter how late, in at least _one_ case. He was vexed
with himself for having been stupid about it at the moment. But it
delighted him to think that most likely this would be the last case--of
the kind. For Lord Nunthorp took always the most good-natured interest
in his conspicuous cousin (or whatever she was), with whom he had once
played at love himself.
[Illustration: "SHE HAD FOUND A LETTER ON THE MANTELPIECE."]
How plain it was to the world that Miss Anstruther was motherless! No
mother would have allowed her to behave as she did. With a mother, she
would have married one of the many, whether she loved him or not. Her
father, whose time was much taken up, was so blind as to see no harm in
her. The only people she had to remonstrate with her were her married
sisters. One of these had been Miss Anstruther's chaperone at this
dance, where she sat out twice with her kinsman, Lord Nunthorp, and
broke a silly youth's pride. This sister ventured to remonstrate--but
very gently--when they got home, in the small hours of the February
morning.
Miss Anstruther had been silent and subdued during the drive home. She
was considerably ashamed of herself. She was more ashamed of having
ill-treated the white-faced boy over that dance--now that it was
done--than she would have been to reject him after encouragement; use
had blunted her feelings to this sort of sin; but the wrong of breaking
cold-bloodedly an engagement to dance was altogether out of harmony
with her character and her practices. She was notorious for leading men
on to certain humiliation; she was celebrated for the punctilio with
which she kept her word in the smallest matter. She had injured the
good reputation in snapping the backbone of the bad one; and she did
not feel at all pleased with Lord Nunthorp, who had said or implied
one thing, and then stated its opposite. She had cheered up, however,
on her arrival at the house: she had found a letter for herself, with
three bright blue stamps in the corner, stuck up on the mantelpiece.
Her hand had closed eagerly over this letter before the lamp was turned
up. She was twisting it between her fingers, under her shawl, while her
sister reproved her, not too seriously, for her treatment of that boy.
"I know it," she answered, rather dolefully; "I know well enough what a
flirt I am! I have never denied it in my life, not even to _them_. But
I really never mean them to go so far. And--and I don't think I'm so
heartless as I make myself out to be!"
Her sister gazed at her fondly. Her own family, at all events, loved
and believed in Miss Anstruther, and held that her faults were on the
surface. The sister now saw in the sweet, flushed face the look that
Lord Nunthorp had seen (and underestimated) more than once.
"Is there someone you care for after all, Midge dear?" she asked softly.
"There may have been someone all the time," the young girl whispered,
her eyelids fallen, her hand squeezing the letter under her shawl.
"Is it--is it Ted Miller?"
[Illustration: "IS IT--IS IT TED MILLER?"]
Midge looked up into her sister's eyes. Her lip was quivering. She was
a girl who seldom cried--her detractors would have told you why. She
controlled herself before speaking now.
"It was the most hopeless affair of them all," she said simply;
"but--but he was the only one who really meant it!"
His letter was against her bosom.
The married sister's eyes had filled. "You write to each other still,
don't you, Midge?"
"Yes--as friends. Good night, Helen!"
"Good night, darling Midge; forgive me for speaking!" Helen whispered,
kissing her eyes.
"Forgive you? You've said nothing to what I deserve!"
The girl was running up to her room two steps at a time. Ted Miller's
letter was pressed tight to her heart.
Ted Miller had been four years in Australia. He had written to her
regularly, the whole time, as her friend; and she had written fairly
regularly to him, as his. His was the one refusal in which she had
not been a free agent; she had been but seventeen at the time. There
was love between them when they parted; there was never a word of it
in their letters. He wrote and told her all that he was doing: he was
roughing it in the wilderness; he was not making his fortune: he never
spoke of coming home. She wrote and told him--nearly all.
A pleasant fire was burning in her room. She lit the candles, and sat
down just as she was, in her very extravagant ball-dress, to read his
present letter. She felt, as always in opening a letter from Ted, that
she was going to open a window and let in a cool current of fragrant,
fresh air upon an unhealthy, heavy atmosphere; and she noticed, what
she had not noticed before, through hiding the letter before the lamp
was turned up, that its superscription was not in Ted's hand; the
bright blue stamps of New South Wales were really all she had looked
at before. She now tore open the envelope with strange misgivings; and
the letter turned out to be from the squatter's wife on Ted Miller's
station, telling how a buck-jumper had broken Ted Miller's back; and
how, before his death, which ensued in a matter of hours, he had
directed her to write to his family, and also--but separately--to "his
greatest friend."
The fire dulled down, the candles shortened, and in their light Miss
Anstruther sat in her dazzling ball-dress, her face as grey as its
satin sheen. Her rounded arms were more florid than her face. She
moaned a little to herself--she could not cry.
At last she stirred herself. Her limbs were stiff. As she crossed the
room, she saw herself from head to foot in her pier-glass--with all
her grace of form and motion dead and stiff within her dress. She saw
herself thus, but at the time with senseless eyes; the sight first came
back to her when she next used that mirror. She was going to a certain
drawer; she unlocked it, and drew it out bodily; she carried it to the
table where the candles were slowly burning down. The drawer was filled
with Miller's letters.
"His greatest friend!" They had been merely friends from the day they
parted. He had nothing. Out there he had found fortune but a little
less inaccessible than at home; he had written her no words of love,
for how could there be any hope for them? She had plenty of money, but
that was all the more reason why he must have some. His letters were
not vulgarised by a single passionate, or sentimental, or high-flown
passage. They were the letters of an honest friend; they were the
letters of a good soldier--on the losing side, but fighting, not
talking about fighting--talking, indeed, of quite other matters. And
because these letters had been just what they were, Ted Miller himself
had been to a frivolous girl, through frivolous years, what no one
else had ever been--not even himself as she had known him best. Their
friendship had been pure and strong and strengthening; their love
idealised by improbability, and further by not being discussed, and yet
further by being written "friendship." His tone to her had been: "Enjoy
yourself. I want to hear you're having a good time. _I_ am--there's
nothing like work." She had answered, very truthfully, that she was
doing so; and now he knew how! That was the bitterest thought: that the
new knowledge was now his, and she, in his eyes, just what she had been
in the eyes of the throng!
She sat down and read all his letters. The pure breath of heaven rose
from every leaf. They did not touch her yet: her heart was numb. But
the tones that had once come to her ears from every written word came
no longer--the voice was silenced. She returned the letters to the
drawer. She would keep them till her death.
And yet--would he like that?
She sat very still, trying to answer this question. The candles went
out, but a leaden light had crept into the room through the blinds. She
thought that he saw her, that he had seen her for weeks, that she had
been grieving him the whole time, that she might please him now. There
had been nothing morbid in Miller. He was the one man she had known who
would wish her _not_ to keep his letters.
She rose resolutely from her chair, and with difficulty rekindled
her fire; it ruined her elaborate dress, but she was glad never to
wear this one again. It did not seem to her that she was about to do
anything cruel or unnatural. She was going to do violence to her own
feelings only. It would please the strong soul of Miller that she was
not going to keep his letters, to read them in her better moods, and
less and less as the years went on. For her own part, she felt she
would like to have them a little longer. It was a subtle sense of
sacrifice for Miller's sake--her first--which nerved her to burn his
letters. Over-strung as she was, she burnt them every one, and without
a tear.
A half-leaf happened to escape. She picked it out of the fender when
the rest were burnt black, and her heart was beginning to ache for
what she had done. She took it to the window, and read on the crisp,
scorched paper the ordinary end of an ordinary letter--the end of all
was, as ever: "Yours always, E. M."
Without a moment's warning, her tears rattled upon the hot paper; she
pressed it passionately to her lips; she flung herself upon the bed in
a paroxysm of helpless agony.
[Illustration]
_The Guest of a Cannibal King._
By J. E. MUDDOCK, F.R.G.S.
(A PERSONAL EXPERIENCE IN THE SOUTH SEAS.)
WHEN it was announced some years ago that the Germans had annexed the
large group of islands lying to the north and west of the Solomon
Group, and known as the New Britain Group, in the South Pacific, I was
enabled to give, through the columns of _The Daily News_, a number
of particulars of New Britain and New Ireland, derived from personal
experience. At the time some controversy arose as to whether the
natives were or were not cannibals. That they _were_ cannibals there
is not the shadow of a doubt; but what they are now, since they became
subjects of the German Fatherland, I know not.
It did not fall to my lot, unhappily, to be able to make any
exploratory examination of the islands, but I had an experience on
the largest of the group--that is, New Britain--which was perhaps
sufficiently interesting and exciting to warrant its being narrated in
detail.
If the reader will take a glance at a map of the Pacific Ocean, he can
hardly fail to be astonished at the immense number of islands, large
and small, that stud that glorious home of the sun, while due north
of Australia, and separated by Torres Strait, is New Guinea, which is
practically unexplored. To the eastward of this immense island lies the
group collectively known as the Solomon Islands, the southern section
of which was first discovered by the Spanish navigator, Mendana, in
1567. To the north and west of these, and much nearer to the coast
of New Guinea, are situated the two magnificent islands known as New
Ireland and New Britain. These were discovered and named by Captain
Cook, and ought now to have been in possession of Great Britain. They
are situated within ten degrees south of the equator, and are amongst
the most beautiful islands of that island-studded sea. The two islands
form a roughly shaped horseshoe, the inside of the shoe facing the
north-west. The northern end of New Britain is separated by a very
narrow passage, known as St. George's Channel, from the southern end
of New Ireland. Lying off the north-western extremity of New Ireland,
and separated from it by only a few miles of sea, is a small upheaval
covered with dense vegetation, and known as New Hanover. About two
hundred miles from this, almost in a direct line, west and by north,
is Admiralty Island, which is within two hundred miles of the equator.
New Britain is the most extensive of the cluster, and is probably
little short of three hundred miles in length, with a maximum breadth
of about forty miles. Both it and its sister island are of volcanic
origin, and there are still active craters in both of them. Like most
tropical islands, and more particularly those of the Southern Pacific,
they are marvellously fertile, and clothed with dense and luxuriant
jungle. The coast lines are exceedingly bold and rocky, deeply indented
with bays and inlets, and protected by the inevitable outer barrier
of coral reefs. The climate is intensely hot, almost insupportably so
at times by white people. Earthquakes are very common, and cyclones
of terrific force frequently sweep over the country. The natives are
probably allied to the Papuans. They have very dark brown skins, black
woolly hair; but amongst them are to be found men and women with wavy
and occasionally straight hair, and this is probably due to Polynesian
blood. They are--or were--fierce and savage, and great head hunters.
Being divided into tribes scattered over the islands, tribal wars were
incessant. The flora and fauna were, at the time of my visit, hardly
known to Europeans; but there are some most beautiful fruits and
flowers; while ferocious animals abound, together with noxious insects
and deadly snakes.
Many years ago I was cruising amongst these glorious islands in a
trading vessel. It was in the very hottest season of the year, and
for some weeks we had alternated between dead calms, when air and
sea seemed to be aflame with heat, and terrific hurricanes that blew
themselves out in an hour or two, but necessitated our stripping every
rag of canvas from the ship (an ill-found, patched-up barque), in order
that we might not lose our sails, of which we only had one suit, and
that a very old one; while our stock of new canvas consisted of about
a dozen bolts, which had to be used for patching purposes. Of food,
we had a fairly plentiful supply of "salt-horse," that was something
more than _high_--it was putrid. But after towing it in the sea for a
couple of days, and then boiling it for twelve hours, we managed to eat
it and live. Our biscuits harboured live stock to such an extent that
it was somewhat difficult to tell which was the live stock and which
the biscuit. However, even weevils are fattening and sustaining, and
it did not do to be too Epicurean in taste. Then, as to the water, I
need only say that, in order to get it down, it was necessary to stifle
the nostrils and shut one's eyes. We were a small crew, numbering, all
told, seventeen hands, including two boys and a black cook. We were
very ill provided with arms. We had half a dozen or so of rusty old
cutlasses; three or four Enfield rifles, one of which, I remember,
had a broken lock; and one or two smooth-bore guns. There were also a
few revolvers amongst us, I myself being the fortunate possessor of
two, both of them being Colt's regulation cavalry pistols, which I had
picked up in Sydney. Besides these, we had a brass cannon, for which
we had no proper ammunition; but we loaded it to the muzzle with old
bolts, nuts, screws, nails, &c., and mounted it on the rail at the
break of the poop on a swivel.
[Illustration: "AS IDLE AS A PAINTED SHIP UPON A PAINTED OCEAN."]
Our position was not a very pleasant one, jammed as we were amongst
the islands, and unable to sail during the fierce squalls, and lying
"as idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean" during the calms. We
were, therefore, subject to the powerful currents which flow there,
and which drifted us amongst the coral reefs, until we expected every
moment to rip our timbers out. What with this ever-present danger, and
the manifest desire of the natives to have our blood, we had rather a
lively time of it. We had endeavoured to get on shore at Choiseul (of
the Solomon Group) for fresh water and fruit, but the natives opposed
our landing, and we deemed it prudent to beat a retreat. Then, as we
drifted north, nearly all day long we were surrounded by a fleet of
canoes, their occupants armed with arrows, spears, and tomahawks. We
tried to barter, but without avail, and it was clear that our black
friends were smacking their lips at the prospect of dining off us.
A ceaseless vigilance, however, on our part, together with a rather
boastful display of our armoury kept them at a respectful distance.
And at last, a light breeze springing up, it carried us clear until we
found ourselves at the mouth of St. George's Channel, which cuts New
Britain and New Ireland in two nearly in the centre of the horseshoe.
Here we lost the breeze, and once more found ourselves in the midst
of a fleet of canoes. Owing to the narrowness of the channel and the
absence of wind we were in danger of drifting on to the reefs, so
we offered the natives a large number of empty bottles, principally
beer bottles, if they would tow us, and we succeeded in getting two
big canoes, containing about twenty natives each, hitched on to our
bows; and with a wild, fierce, and rhythmical chant they plied their
paddles vigorously and kept it up for some hours, until on rounding
a promontory we found ourselves in a deep bay, with a strong current
setting dead inshore; and, as we could see the coral beneath us, we
dropped anchor, after taking soundings, in twelve fathoms of water.
Fresh canoes now came off filled with natives, for the most part
absolutely naked, and all fully armed with spears, poisoned arrows, and
tomahawks. As they appeared to be more curious than hostile, however,
we decided, after holding a council of war, to go on shore and procure
a supply of fresh water and vegetables, or fruit, of which we stood in
desperate need. We thereupon got out the lifeboat, loaded her up with
empty casks and beakers, and seven of us, including myself, manned the
boat. Of course we took with us our revolvers, guns, and cutlasses;
but the guns and cutlasses we put into the boat before lowering her
from the davits, and covered them up with canvas, as we did not want to
provoke a conflict if we could possibly avoid it, though we were all
quite prepared to fight hard for our lives.
[Illustration: "AN ECSTASY OF DELIGHT."]
We were followed to the shore by dozens of canoes, and on reaching the
land the natives swarmed round us in hundreds. But presently there was
a great shouting. The people parted, forming a lane down which marched
as superb a specimen of a man it has ever been my lot to see. His
physique was simply magnificent, and his broad chest and massive limbs
gave evidence of immense strength. His teeth were stained red with
betel-nut, and round his neck, arms, and ankles he wore ornaments made
of shells, but with these exceptions his costume was that of our first
parents before the fall. His movements were the perfection of grace,
and his bearing wonderfully dignified.
It soon became apparent that this man was a petty king or chief, from
the deference that was paid to him. Hoping to secure his good offices,
I moved towards him and made a sort of salaam, which seemed to please
him mightily. Round my neck I wore a lanyard, to which was attached
a large, brand-new jack-knife, and, as this seemed to attract his
attention, I took the lanyard and knife off my neck and put it round
his. Whereupon he was seized with an ecstasy of delight, and executed
a wild sort of dance, shouting, and halloing, and patting the knife as
though it had been a sentient thing.
Having thus expressed his delight and thankfulness, he made certain
signs which I interpreted as a desire on his part that I and my
comrades should follow him. This they resolutely declined to do, but
the spirit of adventure had too strong a hold on me for me to say
no; and so, against the protests and persuasions of my companions,
I signified to him that I would follow. I had two revolvers at my
belt, and I also carried a long, lithe Malacca cane, armed at one end
with a formidable knob of lead worked over with string. I considered,
therefore, that in a fair stand-up fight I should be able to give a
good account of myself. However, there was no hostile appearance on the
part of the natives and the chief placed me on his left-hand side, and
thus, followed by a yelling rabble, we struck inland. For about four
miles we marched through a forest, till we suddenly came to a clearing
where there was a village screened by tall palms from the fierce rays
of the sun.
[Illustration: "WE STRUCK INLAND."]
My arrival was the signal for a general rush from the huts of crowds
of natives--men, women, and children. They pressed forward with eager
curiosity, examined me from head to foot, made remarks one to the
other, and yelled in a perfectly diabolical manner. But presently the
king seemed to get angry, and he uttered a sort of war-whoop, while his
suite, with a sweep of the heavy sticks they carried, scattered the
crowd and made a passage through them. I was then led to a large shed
or hut, which I gathered was the Grand Council Chamber, where weighty
social and political matters were discussed and the head-hunting
expeditions planned. The roof of this building was composed of palm
leaves and some species of grass dyed various colours. It was supported
by stems of young palm-trees, also ornamented with coloured grasses,
which had a most pleasing effect. The walls were composed of sticks and
flag-leaves, thickly plastered with mud on the outside. The floor was
covered with matting, dyed yellow, and worked into a striking pattern
by means of different coloured feathers. At the main entrance was a
tall bamboo pole crowned with a human head. The head had belonged to a
powerful chief who had been killed in battle, and the victors preserved
his skull as a trophy. A little later, during an investigation I
made, I found, in a heap at the back of the Council House, a large
number of skulls and human bones. Many of the skulls were marked with
dints of the tomahawk, thus showing how the victims had been slain.
That their bodies had also been eaten there can be little doubt.
And in this connection I may mention that, in 1882, New Britain was
visited officially by Captain C. Bridge, R.N., and he reports that the
inhabitants of that island are the only cannibals he knows of who are
not ashamed of their taste for human flesh.
When the king and I and his suite had crossed the portal of the
Council Chamber, I was glad to see that a number of men were stationed
outside armed with clubs to keep the crowd off. The air was thick with
mosquitoes, gnats, sandflies, and other insects. Seeing that they
annoyed me, my host ordered one of his attendants to wave over my head
a fan made of a palm-leaf attached to a long handle. The chief then
squatted on his haunches on a raised platform which ran half-way round
the building, and he invited me to do the same, placing me on his
right, which I understood was the position of honour. Then he made a
speech, though what it was all about I could form but little idea, but
two or three times, from the way his followers eyed me, I thought he
was telling them that I was in excellent condition for cooking.
He continued to hold forth for about half an hour, and then it was
evident that he gave some orders, for men entered and made preparations
for a feast. Having heard so much of their cannibalistic propensities,
I confess that my feelings at that moment are not capable of being
adequately described; for I thought I was about to have ocular
demonstration of their love for human flesh. But suddenly it flashed
across my mind that I myself was to provide them with the material
for the feast; that is, that I was to be sacrificed in order that
they might dine, for they were credited with preferring their meat
freshly killed. Through the long slits that served for windows in the
bamboo walls I could see the surging crowd of natives, and it seemed
to me that all their faces depicted the eagerness with which they were
looking forward to seeing the white man despatched. And when I turned
towards the chief I fancied I read the same signs in his face, and I
blamed myself then for so fatuously allowing myself to be lured into
such a trap. The chief still squatted beside me, and I managed to
get about a yard further from him; and, with my hand on the stock of
one of my revolvers, I waited developments. Indeed I am not ashamed
to say that I contemplated making a bolt for liberty and life, and I
calculated what my chances would be, if, with a revolver in each hand,
I suddenly sprang for the door, and, keeping the rabble at bay, rushed
at my topmost speed towards the shore, which was at least four miles
away, though all down hill. But a wiser course immediately suggested
itself to me, and that was to remain still until I saw signs of attack,
then blaze away, and in the confusion bolt.
[Illustration: "A PIECE OF WHITE ROUND FLESH."]
But by the time I had revolved these things in my mind four or five
natives entered bearing wooden trays on which were roasted yams,
breadfruit, young cocoanuts, sugar cane, plantains, roasted wild hog,
and some kind of fish baked in leaves. And bringing up the rear was a
woman carrying on her head a huge calabash which, as she lowered it
to the ground, I saw was filled with crystal water. These things were
placed between me and the chief, and by signs he invited me to fall to.
When I learned that I was not to be used as the material for a feast
but to be feasted instead, my mind was considerably relieved, and I
set to work on the good things provided with a very keen appetite. In
a few minutes two other women entered bearing between them suspended
from a bamboo, a large earthenware pot, in which was something smoking
hot. This pot was set before us, and into it the chief plunged a wooden
skewer; bringing up a piece of white round flesh, dripping with hot
oil, and which I took to be part of an eel for the moment, but only for
a moment, as I suddenly divined that the steaming pot contained a mess
of stewed snakes. The chief handed me the piece he had fished up, and
I took it and tasted it, and, finding it palatable in itself, although
the grease it had been cooked in was nauseating, I managed to get it
down, but respectfully declined a repeat.[1]
The appetite of my host was, as Dominie Sampson would have said,
prodigious! Having lived for weeks on bad salt junk and rotten biscuit,
I was in a condition to do full and ample justice to the good things
spread before me. And I am satisfied that I did so; but it was nothing,
a mere picking, a mouthful, when compared with what the chief stowed
away. He gorged to such an extent that I almost expected to see him
roll over in a fit of apoplexy. But the capacity of his stomach was
apparently unlimited. And at each fresh bout he came up smiling, until
there was little left to eat, and that little was distributed to the
crowd outside, who snarled and wrangled for the pieces like angry
wolves.
[Illustration: "I WANDERED ABOUT THE VILLAGE."]
When the important ceremony of dining was over, I rose with a tighter
waistband than I had had for weeks; and I gave my entertainer to
understand that I should like to see the village. Thereupon he gave
some instructions, and led the way outside, and I wandered about the
village for some little time. The huts I noted were built in clusters.
They were formed by digging a pit that was plastered with wet mud like
cement, and allowed to dry in the sun. Then above this pit was reared
a roof of sticks and leaves, the top being rounded off dome fashion.
I peeped into some of these dwellings, and saw immense quantities of
clubs, spears, and arrows, which might be taken as good evidence of
the warlike character of the people. The interior of the huts was
astonishingly cool, and it was quite refreshing to step into one out of
the fearful heat of the sun.
My host next took me to his own residence, which was larger and
superior to the others. There he had several wives and children. One of
the women was not only handsome, but, as a model of a perfectly formed
figure, she would have sent an artist into ecstasies. Her limbs were
adorned with shells, and her raven tresses were relieved by the scarlet
feathers of a parrot.
On approaching this island from the south, the first land one sees is
a high mountain, probably between four and five thousand feet. It is
known as Mount Beautemps Beaupré. I was exceedingly anxious to reach
this mountain, and if possible ascend it, so as to get a bird's-eye
view of the island. I therefore signified my wish to the chief, who,
apparently comprehending my meaning, armed himself with a club and
spear, and, calling his followers together, we started towards the
interior. For some distance our way ran through a jungle of the most
luxuriant tropical foliage. There were trees of an enormous girth
and height, and they were covered with ferns and orchids; while from
tree to tree tendrils stretched in graceful festoons, and hung down
in a perfect and all but impenetrable network. Occasionally birds
were seen with plumage of perfectly marvellous colours, and I had
the good fortune to see two birds of paradise. As we pursued our
journey we occasionally disturbed a large snake or two, and on the
trunks of some of the trees I saw great green lizards with eyes like
saucers. Peccaries, or wild pigs, abounded, and there was a bird that
went in flocks, and was not unlike a partridge. Amongst the trees I
distinguished breadfruit, cocoa palms, plantains, guavas, mangoes,
custard apples. Amongst the undergrowth grew a peculiar fibrous grass
of great length, and I learned afterwards that the natives twist this
in a primitive fashion and manufacture ropes from it.
We continued our journey for several miles, gradually rising until the
road became steep and difficult. After an exhausting climb under a
fierce sun, we gained the summit of a hill, when there burst upon my
astonished gaze a panorama of wonderful grandeur. Afar off, inland,
was the mountain I had hoped to gain; but its summit was shrouded in
light feathery mists that masked its height. Between our standpoint and
the mountain dense forests rose up for thousands of feet until they
suddenly broke off and gave place to bald volcanic cones and serrated
crags, shattered into fantastic outline. I longed to plunge down into
the intervening valleys and explore their hidden mysteries, but I had
to recognise the impossibility of doing so under the circumstances.
Turning seaward, other islands were visible, floating in dreamy mist;
and, looking to the north-west, we beheld the lofty volcanic peaks
of New Ireland. After spending some time in studying the marvellous
picture, I wished to proceed further inland, but my host and his
followers resolutely declined to go another step, and gave me to
understand that, if we went on, inland tribes would attack and kill us.
In spite of that danger--if it really existed--I should have pushed
forward if one or two of the natives had been willing to accompany me.
But they would not budge, and reluctantly I was compelled to retrace my
steps. We did not, however, return exactly the same way, although there
was no difference in the features of the jungle scenery. On passing
through one part of the jungle I was much struck by gorgeous flowers
that grew in the undergrowth. Their colours were surprisingly rich and
brilliant, but on plucking some of them I was amazed to find that they
instantly shrivelled up in my hands, like a piece of dried skin, and
their wonderful colours faded away as if by magic.
We stopped at another village on our return, and my presence caused
intense excitement and curiosity. Men, women, and children gathered
round me, yelling and gesticulating, and, as I thought, menacingly. My
hand instinctively wandered to my revolver, but I did not draw it, for
I recognised at once that they had no arms, and I concluded therefore
that they meant no harm, in spite of their seeming fierce looks. Their
pressing attentions, however, were far from pleasant, and I was glad
when I had got clear of them.
On arriving back at our starting-point, night was closing in. I found
that another feast had been prepared in the council chamber, and the
chief invited me to partake of it. Amongst other things were vast
quantities of all sorts of fruit, and a huge bowl of kava, which I
tasted. The place was lighted by means of torches made of some fibre
soaked in oil. These were held by men who squatted on their haunches.
The torches flared and sputtered, producing a most intolerable smell
and dense fumes, which, however had the good effect of keeping the
mosquitoes at bay.
When the feast was ended, the chief made a sign, and twenty young women
filed in, taking up their position in the centre of the chamber. They
were handsome, well-formed girls, and were ornamented with necklaces
of many rows of shells and sharks' teeth. Their dress consisted of a
small kind of pliable mat, held round the hips by a belt of grass. To a
low monotonous chant of the assembled natives, the girls commenced to
go round in file, beating time with their feet, and swaying their arms
about with a graceful rhythmical motion. This lasted for about five
minutes. Then the chant quickened, as did also the movements of the
dancers, until at last they joined in with the singers, beating time
with their hands. Their mats were flung on one side, and their sole
costume was a thin fringe of coloured grass tied round the loins.
The chant now swelled into a wild song. The singers grew excited and
clapped their hands, making a peculiar sharp sound like that produced
by two cocoanut shells when struck smartly together. The girls became
infected with the excitement, and whirled round like humming tops,
shrieking in their loudest key. At the end of half an hour the dance
ceased. The perspiration was literally pouring off the girls, but
apparently they were not exhausted. Gathering up their mats, they
made a profound bow to the chief and retired. I was next favoured
with a war-song and dance. In obedience to the orders of the chief,
two powerful fellows stepped into the centre armed with spears. They
commenced by giving a war-whoop, and then made themselves horrible by
facial contortions that would have made a pantomimic clown envious.
Next, they threw themselves into every conceivable attitude, their
limbs seeming to be as flexible as india-rubber. They brandished their
spears in dangerous proximity to each other's heads; they howled,
twisted, jumped, and grimaced in such a hideous manner that I was glad
when the performance ended.
[Illustration: "THE GIRLS COMMENCED TO GO ROUND IN FILE."]
Soon after this the natives retired, saluting the chief as they
went out. In a few minutes more women entered, and made a bed of
palm-leaves, on which they spread the skin of a wild animal. The chief
then intimated that it was my sleeping-place, if I chose to remain
there, an invitation that I was not slow to accept, and very soon I
found myself alone. It was pitch dark at first, but there were flashes
of pale points of light as the fire-flies flitted about, and from the
jungles came a chorus of indescribable sounds. But there was one sound
I shall never forget. It was made by a bird, and resembled a plaintive
wail, occasionally varied by what resembled a shrill scream of pain.
Anything more saddening or melancholy than that wail from out of the
depths of the tropical forest in the darkness of the night could not
well be imagined. It was suggestive of somebody suffering the keenest
agony--the cry of a lost soul.
[Illustration: "AS FLEXIBLE AS INDIA-RUBBER."]
Presently the moon rose, and I went to the door to gaze out on the
scene that was revealed. It seemed almost unearthly in its sublime,
weird beauty. A lace-like vapour veil appeared to hang over the
landscape, but it served to impart a dreamy, visionary appearance that
was fascinating. Indeed, it was like a land of dreams, for in the
crystalline light of that tropical moon everything seemed transfigured.
Overhead the great stars palpitated with a splendour of brilliancy
unknown in temperate latitudes, and the tops of the great trees were
clearly and sharply silhouetted against the dark sapphire sky.
Returning to my humble couch, I threw myself down, feeling thoroughly
fagged out after the hard day's work. The heat was intense, and the
air thick with mosquitoes. Nevertheless I fell asleep, but later on
was awakened by some disturbing sound, and where the bars of silver
light flecked the floor as the moon rays poured through the slits in
the bamboo, I saw crouching figures. An instinct of danger caused me
to spring to my feet and draw my revolver. For some time I stood on
the defensive, ready to fire, if need be; but the figures remained
motionless and still. Preferring certainty to suspense, I cautiously
approached them, and to my surprise saw they were women. There were six
of them. But they gave no sign, uttered no sound, and, save for their
eyes that were turned on me and glowed like jewels, they might have
been statues.
Not knowing what the nocturnal visit of these dusky beauties meant,
I went back to my corner, determined to keep on the alert, fearing
treachery; but tired nature asserted herself, and I fell asleep. When I
next awoke it was broad daylight, and the sky was aflame with amethyst
and gold, with great fields of crimson lying between. My lady visitors
had gone, and save for the awakening voices of the day that came from
the jungles, all was silent.
Not for a full hour after this did the king and his followers put in
an appearance, and when we had breakfasted, he accompanied me to the
beach, and I was taken off by the ship's boat. My companions were
agreeably surprised when I turned up sound in wind and limb, for they
had come to the conclusion that I had been served, boiled or roasted,
as a dainty dish for his sable majesty.
As the dead calms continued for several days, we remained at anchor.
And I strengthened my friendship with the king by presenting him with
a small hand saw, with which he was immensely delighted. I also gave
him a belt that he took a fancy to, and an india-rubber tobacco pouch,
together with a pocket-knife that contained a gimlet, a hook, and a
tiny saw: this pleased him more than anything else.
One day I made an excursion with him in his canoe, and we coasted
inside of the coral barrier for a long distance. Everywhere the shore
was thickly fringed with cocoanut trees and palms. So clear was the
water that the branching coral could be seen many yards below. We
landed in a little bay, and proceeded to a friendly village hidden in
the jungle. Here I was as much an object of curiosity as I had been in
the other places; but it also seemed to me that I was regarded with a
certain shyness and reserve, and there was an evident desire that I
should not go about and look into the houses. Before one of the largest
of the houses I noticed several human heads stuck on bamboos, and as
these heads were fresh, it suddenly occurred to me that the villagers
had just returned from a head-hunting expedition, and had been dining
off human flesh. I therefore determined to keep my eyes open, and very
soon I came across unmistakable evidence that I was right, for behind
one of the huts in the centre of the village I discovered a very old
man and a middle-aged woman busily engaged enveloping portions of human
flesh in leaves preparatory to cooking it, which is done in a sort of
oven built of loose stones. In another part of the village I saw a heap
of human bones, including thigh and leg bones, and an arm to which the
flesh still adhered. It was not a very pleasant sight, and I was glad
to get away.
[Illustration: "WE COASTED INSIDE OF THE CORAL BARRIER."]
I subsequently heard in China that the natives of these islands scrape
the inside of the kernels of the young cocoa nuts into a gourd, and,
adding pounded sago to it, they mix human brains with the mess, and
diluting it with goat's milk, drink the compound. I attached little
credence to this statement at the time, but within the last few years
it has been amply confirmed, especially by Mr. H. H. Romilly, who paid
several visits to the islands. He says that the disgusting decoction is
known as dak-dak.
I parted from my friendly chief, or king, with regret, and I promised
myself that I would return at no distant date, and endeavour to explore
the island. Circumstances, however, arose which made the fulfilment of
that promise impracticable at the time.
On leaving New Britain we nearly came to grief on a coral reef near
the Duke of York Island, which lies off the western end of the larger
island. But, having got clear, we coasted along New Ireland in order to
get the land breeze. When at the extreme or eastern end of the island,
I went with some of the crew into a small bay, where we effected a
landing, our object being to replenish some empty water-casks, and
obtain fruit and vegetables. With this object in view we made our way
towards a village, but were speedily surrounded with natives, who
showed such a hostile spirit, and would have attacked us but for our
firearms, that we deemed it prudent to return to the shore. The New
Irelanders bear the reputation of being much more fierce and savage
than their neighbours. In this island there are still several active
volcanoes, and hot sulphur springs are numerous. While sailing along
the shores of New Ireland, a violent shock of earthquake occurred, and
the sea was greatly agitated, causing the ship to roll heavily. Slight
shocks are almost of daily occurrence.
The people of all this group of islands are exceedingly interesting
as ethnological studies. They are amongst the most intelligent of the
South Sea islanders, and display great ingenuity in ornamenting their
spears, clubs, and other weapons, as well as their canoes. These latter
are fitted with outriggers, whereas in the Solomon Group, a little
further to the south, the outrigger is unknown. The men are finely
built, and seem capable of sustaining great fatigue. Many of them
whiten their woolly hair by sprinkling powdered seashells on it, having
first soaked the hair in grease. The effect of this whitened hair is
very remarkable. The women of all the groups are handsome and well
formed when young; but, like all natives of tropical countries, they
age quickly. They marry very early, often before they are twelve years
of age. Some of the tribes, both men and women, go entirely naked.
A very curious custom prevails in the New Britain Group, in compelling
a man who has neglected his wife and children to run the gauntlet.
Two rows of women extend for a distance of several hundred feet, each
woman being armed with a lithe stick. Down the avenue thus formed, the
culprit, in a state of absolute nudity, has to make his way; and, as he
darts past, the women belabour him savagely, and by the time he reaches
the end of the row he is exhausted and covered with blood.
This punishment is greatly dreaded, not so much on account of the
physical suffering it entails, as the disgrace that follows, for the
man is an outcast afterwards for several weeks. No one of his tribe
dare speak to him; he must betake himself to the jungle, where he lives
naked, and as best he may, until the expiration of his sentence.
The currency of the islands is small shells, exceedingly delicate
and pretty; and as they are only found in small quantities at one
particular spot, they have a high value. They are strung on strings
made of fibre, and, when anything has to be paid for, a length is
measured off. A piece that will stretch across a man's breast will
purchase two or three cocoanuts. At present, the chief trade of the
island, I am informed, is in copra, that is, the dried kernels of
the cocoanut, which is collected by the traders and despatched to
Europe, where it is made into cocoanut oil, while the refuse is used
for cakes for fattening cattle. On all these islands sago grows wild,
as does also the sugar cane; but so fertile is the soil that tropical
productions of every description would flourish amazingly. On New
Britain the yam and sweet potato are cultivated extensively, and grow
to an immense size.
In building canoes the natives of this part of the Pacific have no
equal. The body of the canoe is generally made out of the trunk of
a tree, the sides being built up from this body. The planks forming
the sides are sewn together with the tough grass I have spoken of,
and they are afterwards caulked and made watertight by means of a
peculiar cement, which I understand is the kernel of a nut which grows
extensively in the forests. The nuts are pounded in a large mortar. The
powder is then mixed with boiling water, and in that state is worked
into the seams. On drying, it becomes perfectly hard and watertight.
The war canoes will carry from forty to sixty men. These are invariably
decorated with human heads and carved crocodiles. The crocodile, which
abounds in the centre of the islands, is an object of veneration, as
is also the shark, which grows to an enormous size in these warm seas,
and is most ferocious. The natives navigate their canoes very expertly
amongst the coral reefs. From a very early age children of both sexes
are accustomed to the water, and they will swim about for hours without
showing any signs of fatigue. They seem to have no fear of the sharks
that infest the waters. Whether it is that the sharks do not attack
them, I really cannot say. What is certain is that a white man would
very soon be gobbled up. Perhaps these South Sea sharks do not like
black men.
[Illustration]