On the afternoon of the 4th of June, 1885, the Hawaiian labour schooner
_Mana_, of which I was “recruiter” was beating through Apolima Straits,
which divide the islands of Upolu and Savai'i. The south-east trade was
blowing very strongly and a three-knot current setting against the
wind had raised a short, confused sea, and our decks were continually
flooded. But we had to thrash through it with all the sail we could
possibly carry, for among the sixty-two Gilbert Islands “recruits” I had
on board three had developed symptoms of what we feared was small-pox,
and we were anxious to reach the anchorage off the town of Mulifanua at
the west end of Upolu before dark. At Mulifanua there was a large German
cotton plantation, employing four hundred “recruited” labourers, and on
the staff of European employés was a resident doctor. In the ordinary
course of things we should have gone on to Apia, which was twenty miles
farther on, and our port of destination, and handed over my cargo of
“recruits” to the manager of the German firm there; but as Mulifanua
Plantation was also owned by them, and my “recruits” would probably be
sent there eventually, the captain and I decided to land the entire
lot at that place, instead of taking them to Apia, where the European
community would be very rough upon us if the disease on board did turn
out to be small-pox.
As the skipper and I were standing aft, watching the showers of spray
that flew over the schooner every time a head sea smacked her in the
face, one of the hands shouted out that there was a man in the water,
close to on the weather bow. Hauling our head sheets to windward we
head-reached towards him, and in a few minutes the man, who was swimming
in the most gallant fashion, was alongside, and clambered on board. He
was a rather dark-skinned Polynesian, young, and of extremely powerful
physique.
“Thanks, good friends,” he said, speaking in halting Samoan. “'Tis a
high sea in which to swim. Yet,” and here he glanced around him at the
land on both sides, “I was half-way across.”
“Come below,” I said, “and take food and drink, and I will give you a
_lava-lava_ (waistcloth).” (He was nude.)
He thanked me, and then again his keen dark eyes were fixed upon
Savai'i--three miles distant.
“Art bound to Savai'i?” he asked quickly.
“Nay. We beat against the wind. To-night we anchor at Mulifanua.”
“Ah!” and his face changed, “then I must leave, for it is to Savai'i I
go,” and he was about to go over the rail when we held him back.
“Wait, friend. In a little time the ship will be close in to the passage
through the reef at Saleleloga” (a town of Savai'i), “and then as we put
the ship about, thou canst go on thy way. Why swim two leagues and tempt
the sharks when there is no need. Come below and eat and drink, and have
no fear. We shall take thee as near to the passage as we can.”
The skipper came below with us, and after providing our visitor with a
navy blue waistcloth, we gave him a stiff tumbler of rum, and some
bread and meat. He ate quickly and then asked for a smoke, and in a few
minutes more we asked him who he was, and why he was swimming across the
straits. We spoke in Samoan. “Friends,” he said, “I will tell the truth.
I am one of the _kau galuega_ (labourers) on Mulifanua Plantation.
Yesterday being the Sabbath, and there being no work, I went into the
lands of the Samoan village to steal young nuts and _taro_. I had thrown
down and husked a score, and was creeping back to my quarters by a
side path through the grove, when I was set upon by three young Samoan
_manaia_ (bloods) who began beating me with clubs--seeking to murder me.
We fought, and I, knowing that death was upon me, killed one man with a
blow of my _tori nui_{*} (husking stick) of iron-wood, and then drove it
deep into the chest of another. Then I fled, and gaining the beach, ran
into the sea so that I might swim to Savai'i, for there will I be safe
from pursuit” “'Tis a long swim, man--'tis five leagues.” He laughed and
expanded his brawny chest “What is that to me? I have swam ten leagues
many times.”
* A heavy, pointed stick of hardwood, used for husking coco-
nuts.
“Where do you belong?” asked the skipper in English.
He answered partly in the same language and partly in his curious
Samoan.
“I am of Anuda.{*} My name is Vanàki. Two years ago I came to Samoa in a
German labour ship to work on the plantations, for I wanted to see other
places and earn money, and then return to Anuda and speak of the things
I had seen. It was a foolish thing of me. The German _suis_ (overseers)
are harsh men. I worked very hard on little food. It was for that I had
to steal. And I am but one man from Anuda, and there are four hundred
others from many islands--black-skinned, man-eating, woolly-haired
pigs from the Solomon and New Hebrides, and fierce fellows like these
Tafito{**} men from the Gilbert Islands such as I now see here on this
ship. No one of them can speak my tongue of Anuda. And now I am a free
man.”
* Anuda or Cherry Island is an outlier of the Santa Cruz
Group, in the South Pacific. The natives are more of the
Polynesian than the Melanesian type, and are a fine,
stalwart race.
** Tafitos--natives of the Pacific Equatorial Islands such
as the Gilbert Group.
“You are a plucky fellow,” said the captain, “and deserve good luck.
Here, take this dollar, and tie it up in the corner of your waistcloth.
You can buy yourself some tobacco from the white trader at Salelelogo.”
“Ah, yes, indeed. But” (and here he dropped into Samoan again, and
turned to me) “I would that the good captain would take me as a sailor
for his next voyage. I was for five years with Captain Macleod of
Nouméa. And I am a good man--honest, and no boaster.”
I shook my head. “It cannot be. From Mulifanua we go to Apia. And there
will be news there of what thou hast done yesterday, and we cannot hide
a man on this small ship.” And then I asked the captain what he thought
of the request.
“We ought to try and work it,” said the skipper. “If he was five years
with Jock Macleod he's all right.”
We questioned him further, and he satisfied us as to his _bona-fides_,
giving us the names of many men--captains and traders--known to us
intimately.
“Vanâki,” I said, “this is what may be done, but you must be quick, for
presently we shall be close to the passage off Saleleloga, and must
go about. When you land, go to Miti-loa the chief, and talk to
him privately. There is bad blood between his people and those of
Mulifanua----”
“I know it. It has been so for two years past.”
“Now, listen. Miti-loa and the captain here and I are good friends. Tell
him that you have seen us. Hide nothing from him of yesterday. He is a
strong man.”
“I know it. Who does not, in this part of Samoa know of Miti-loa?” {*}
“That is true. And Miti knows us two _papalagi_{**} well. Stay with
him, work for him, and do all that he may ask. He will ask but
little--perhaps nothing. In twenty days from now, this ship will be at
Apia ready for sea again. We go to the Tokelaus” (Gilbert Islands) “or
else to the Solomons, and if thou comest on board in the night who is to
know of it but Miti-loa and thyself?”
* Miti-loa--“Long Dream “.
** White men--foreigners.
The mate put his head under the flap of the skylight “Close on to the
reef, sir. Time to go about.”
“All right, Carey. Put her round. Now Vanâki, up on deck, and over you
go.”
Vanâki nodded and smiled, and followed us. Then quickly he took off his
_lava-lava_, deftly wrapped it about his head like an Indian turban, and
held out his hand in farewell, and every one on board cheered as he I
leapt over the side, and began his swim to the land.
From the cross-trees I watched him through my glasses, saw him enter the
passage into smooth water, and disdaining to rest on any of the exposed
and isolated projections of reef which lined the passage, continue his
course towards the village. Then a rain squall hid him from view, but we
knew that he was safe.
That evening we landed our “recruits” at Mulifanua, and after thoroughly
disinfecting the ship, we sailed a few days later for Apia. Here we were
again chartered to proceed to the New Hebrides and Solomon Islands for
another cruise.
As we were refitting, I received a letter from Miti-loa, telling me that
Vanâki was safe, and would be with us in a few days. When he did arrive,
he came with Miti-loa himself in his _taumalua_ (native boat) and a
score of his people. Vanâki was so well made-up as a Samoan that when
he stepped on deck the skipper and I did not recognise him. We sent him
below, and told him to keep quiet until we were well under way.
“Ah,” said Miti-loa to us, “what a man is he! Such a swimmer was never
before seen. My young men have made much of him, and I would he would
stay with me.”
Vanâki turned out an acquisition to our ship's company, and soon became
a favourite with every one. He was highly delighted when he was placed
on the articles at the usual rate of wages paid to native seamen--£3 per
month. Our crew were natives from all parts of Polynesia, but English
was the language used by them generally to each other. Like all vessels
in the labour trade we carried a double crew--one to man the boats when
recruiting, and one to work the ship when lying “off and on” at any
island where we could not anchor, and Vanâki was greatly pleased when I
told him that he should have a place in my boat, instead of being put in
the “covering"{*} boat.
* The “covering” boat is that which stands by to open fire
if the “landing” boat is attacked.
We made a splendid run down to the Solomons from Samoa, and when in
sight of San Cristoval, spoke a French labour vessel from Nouméa,
recruiting for the French New Hebrides Company. Her captain and
his “recruiter” (both Englishmen) paid us a visit. They were old
acquaintances of our captain and myself, and as they came alongside in
their smart whaleboat and Vanâki saw their faces, he gave a weird yell
of delight, and rubbed noses with them the moment they stepped on deck.
“Hallo, Vanâki, my lad,” said the skipper of _La Metise_, shaking his
hand, “how are you?” Then turning to us he said: “Vanâki was with me
when I was mate with Captain Macleod, in the old _Aurore_ of Nouméa.
He's a rattling good fellow for a native, and I wish I had him with me
now. Wherever did you pick him up?”
We told him, and Houston laughed when I narrated the story of Vanâki's
swim.
“Oh, that's nothing for him to do. Why, the beggar once swam from the
Banks Group across to the Torres Islands. Has he never told you about
it?”
“No. And I would hardly believe him if he did. Why, the two groups are
fifty miles apart.”
“No, from Tog in the Torres Islands to Ureparapara in the Banks Group
is a little over forty miles. But you must wheedle the yarn out of him.
He's a bit sensitive of talking about it, on account of his at first
being told he was a liar by several people. But Macleod, two traders who
were passengers with us, and all the crew of the _Aurore_ know the story
to be true. We sent an account of it to the Sydney papers.”
“I'll get him to tell me some day,” I said “I once heard of a native
woman swimming from Nanomaga in the Ellice Group to Nanomea--thirty-five
miles--but never believed it for a long time.”
After spending half an hour with us, our friends went back to their
ship, each having shaken hands warmly with Vanâki, and wished him good
luck.
It was some days before the captain and I had time to hear Vanâki's
story, which I relate as nearly as possible in his own words.
First of all, however, I must mention that Ureparapara or Bligh Island
is a well-wooded, fertile spot, about sixteen miles in circumference,
and is an extinct crater. It is now the seat of a successful mission.
Tog is much smaller, well-wooded, and inhabited, and about nine hundred
feet high. At certain times of the year a strong current sets in a
northerly and westerly direction, and it is due to this fact that Vanâki
accomplished his swim. Now for his story.
“I was in the port watch of the _Aurore_. We came to Ureparapara in
the month of June to 'recruit' and got four men. Whilst we were there,
Captain Houston (who was then mate of the _Aurore_) asked me if I would
dive under the ship and look at her copper; for a week before we had
touched a reef. So I dived, and found that five sheets of copper were
gone from the port side about half a fathom from the keel. So the
captain took five new sheets of copper, and punched the nail holes, and
gave me one sheet at a time, and I nailed them on securely. In three
hours it was done, for the ship was in quiet, clear water, and I knew
what to do. The captain then said to me laughingly that he feared I had
but tacked on the sheets loosely, and that they would come off. My heart
was sore at this, and so I asked Mr. Houston, who is a good diver, to
go and look. And he dived and looked, and then five other of the
crew--natives--dived and looked, and they all said that the work was
well and truly done--all the nails driven home, and the sheets smooth,
and without a crinkle. This pleased the captain greatly, and he gave me
a small gold piece, and told me that I could go on shore, and spend it
at the white trader's store.
“Now I did a foolish thing. I bought from the trader two bottles of
strange grog called _arrak_. It was very strong--stronger than rum--and
soon I and two others who drank it became very drunk, and lay on the
ground like pigs. Mr. Houston came and found me, and brought me on
board, and I was laid on the after-deck under the awning.
“At sunset the ship sailed. I was still asleep, and heard nothing,
though in a little while it began to blow, and much rain fell The
captain let me lie on the lee side, so that the rain might beat upon me,
and bring me to life again.
“When four bells struck I awoke. I was ashamed. Waiting until the wheel
was relieved, I crept along the deck unseen, for it was very dark, and
goy up on the top of the top-gallant fo'c'stle, and again lay down. The
ship was running before the wind under close-reefed sails, and the sea
was so great that she pitched heavily every now and then, and much water
came over the bows. This did me good, and I soon began to feel able to
go below and turn in in my bunk. Then presently, as I was about to rise,
the ship made a great plunge, and a mighty sea fell upon her, and I was
swept away. No one saw me go, for no one knew that I was there, and the
night was very, very dark.
“When I came to the surface, I could see the ship's lights, and cried
out, but no one heard me, for the wind and sea made a great noise; and
then, too, there was sweeping rain. In a little while the lights were
gone, and I was alone.
“'Now,' I said to myself, 'Vanâki, thou art a fool, and will go into the
belly of a shark because of becoming drunk.' And then my heart came back
to me, and I swam on easily over the sea, hoping that I would be missed,
and the ship heave-to, and send a boat. But I looked in vain.
“By-and-by the sky cleared, and the stars came out, but the wind still
blew fiercely, and the seas swept me along so quickly that I knew it
would be folly for me to try and face them, and try to swim back to
Ureparapara.
“'I will swim to Tog,' I said; 'if the sharks spare me I can do it.'
For now that the sky was clear, and I could see the stars my fear died
away; and so I turned a little, and swam to the west a little by the
north.
“There was a strong current with me, and hour by hour as I swam the wind
became less, and the sea died away.
“When daylight came I was not tired, and rested on my back. And as I
rested, two green turtles rose near me. They looked at me, and I was
glad, for I knew that where turtle were there would be no sharks. I am
not afraid of sharks, but what is a man to do with a shark in the open
sea without a knife?
“Towards noon there came rain. I lay on my back and put my hollowed hands
together, and caught enough to satisfy my great thirst. The rain did not
last long.
“A little after noon I saw the land--the island of Tog. It was but three
leagues away.
“Then I swam into a great and swift tide-rip, which carried me to the
eastward. It was so strong that I feared it would take me away from the
island, but soon it turned and swept me to the westward. And then I saw
the land becoming nearer and nearer.
“When the sun was nearly touching the sea-rim, I was so close to the
south-end of Tog, that I could see the spars of a ship lying at anchor
in the bay called Pio. And then when the sun had set I could see the
lights of many canoes catching flying-fish by torchlight.
“I swam on and came to the ship. It was the _Aurore_.
“I clambered up the side-ladder, and stood on deck, and the man who was
on anchor watch--an ignorant Tokelau--shouted out in fear, and ran to
tell the captain, and Mr. Houston.
“They brought me below and made much of me, and gave me something to
drink which made me sleep for many hours.
“When I awakened I was strong and well, but my eyes were _malai_
(bloodshot). That is all.”