Piracy, as most people are aware, is not yet quite extinct in Chinese
and East Indian waters, despite the efforts that have been made to
utterly stamp it out. But it is not generally known that along the
shores of Dutch New Guinea, on both sides of the great island, there are
still vigorous communities of native pirates, who will not hesitate to
attack even armed trading vessels. These savages combine the business
of head-hunting with piracy, and although they do not possess modern
firearms, and their crafts are simply huge canoes, they show the most
determined courage, even when attacking a vessel manned by Europeans.
The annual reports of the Governors of Dutch, German and British New
Guinea, detailing the murderous doings of these head-hunting pirates,
are as interesting reading as the tales of Rajah Brooke and Stamford
Raffles, and the practical suppression of piracy in the East Indian
Archipelago, but seldom attract more than a few lines of comment in the
public press.
In writing of pirates of the present day, I shall not go beyond my own
beat of the North and South Pacific, and speak only of events within my
own personal knowledge and observation. Before entering into an account
of some of the doings of the New Guinea “Tugeri,” or head-hunter
pirates, I shall tell the story of two notable acts of piracy committed
by white men in the South Pacific, less than ten years ago. The English
newspapers gave some attention to one case, for the two principal
criminals concerned were tried at Brest, and the case was known as the
“Rorique tragedy”. Much comment was made on the statement that the King
of the Belgians went to France, after the prisoners had been sentenced
to death (they were Belgian), to personally intercede for them. The
French press stigmatised His Majesty's action as a scandal (one journal
suggesting that perhaps the pirates were pretty women in men's garb);
but no doubt King Leopold is a very tender-hearted man, despite the
remarks of unkind English people on the subject of the eccentricities
of the Belgian officers in the Congo Free State--such as cutting off
the hands of a few thousands of stupid negroes who failed to bring
in sufficient rubber. There are even people who openly state that the
Sultan of Turkey dislikes Armenians, and has caused some of them to be
hurt. But I am getting away from my subject The story of the Roriques,
and the tragedy of the _Niuroahiti_ which was the name of the vessel
they seized, is one of the many grisly episodes with which the history
of the South Seas is so prolific. Briefly it is as follows:--
About the end of 1891 the two brothers arrived at Papeite, the capital
of Tahiti, from the Paumotu Group, where, it was subsequently learned,
they had been put on shore by the captain of an island trader, who
strongly suspected them of plotting with the crew to murder him and
seize the ship. Nothing of this incident, however, was known at Tahiti
among the white residents with whom they soon ingratiated themselves;
they were exceedingly agreeable-mannered men, and the elder brother,
who was a remarkably handsome man of about thirty-five, was an excellent
linguist, speaking German, French, Italian, English, Dutch, Spanish and
Zulu fluently. Although they had with them no property beyond firearms,
their _bonhomie_ and the generally accepted belief that they were men
of means, made them the recipients of much hospitality and kindness.
Eventually the younger man was given a position as a trader on one of
the pearl-shell lagoon islands in the Paumotu Group, while the other
took the berth of mate in the schooner _Niuroahiti_, a smart little
native-built vessel owned by a Tahitian prince. The schooner was under
the command of a half-caste, and her complement consisted, besides the
captain, of Mr. William Gibson, the supercargo, Rorique the first mate,
a second mate, four Society Island natives, and the cook, a Frenchman
named Hippolyte Miret. The _Niuroahiti_ traded between Tahiti and the
Paumotus, and when she sailed on her last voyage she was bound to the
Island of Kaukura, where the younger Rorique was stationed as trader.
She never returned, but it was ascertained that she had called at
Kaukura, and then left again with the second brother Rorique as
passenger.
Long, long months passed, and the Australian relatives and friends of
young Gibson, a cheery, adventurous young fellow, began to think, with
the owner of the _Niuroakiti_, that she had met a fate common enough in
the South Sea trade--turned turtle in a squall, and gone to the bottom
with all hands.
About this time I was on a trading cruise in the Caroline Islands, and
one day we spoke a Fiji schooner. I went on board for a chat with the
skipper, and told him of the _Niuroakiti_ affair, of which I had heard a
month before.
“By Jove,” he exclaimed, “I met a schooner exactly like her about ten
days ago. She was going to the W.N.W.--Ponapê way--and showed French
colours. I bore up to speak her, but she evidently didn't want it,
hoisted her squaresail and stood away.”
From this I was sure that the vessel was the _Niuroakiti_, and therefore
sent a letter to the Spanish governor at Ponapê, relating the affair. It
reached him just in time.
The _Niuroakiti_ was then lying in Jakoits harbour in Ponapé, and was
to sail on the following day for Macao. She was promptly seized, and the
brothers Rorique put in irons, and taken on board the Spanish cruiser
_Le Gaspi_ for conveyance to Manila Hippolyte Miret, the cook, confessed
to the Spanish authorities that the brothers Rorique had shot dead
in their sleep the captain, Mr. Gibson, the second mate, and the four
native sailors.
The trial was a long one, but the evidence was most damning and
convincing, although the brothers passionately declared that Miret's
story was a pure invention. Sentence of death was passed, but was
afterwards commuted to imprisonment for life, and the Roriques are now
in chains in Cayenne.
The second case was of a very dreadful character, and has an additional
interest from the fact that out of all the participators--the pirates
and their victims--only one was left alive to tell the tale, and he was
found in a dying condition on one of the Galapagos Islands, and only
lived a few days. The story was told to me by the captain of the
brigantine _Isaac Revels_, of San Francisco, who put into the Galapagos
to repair his ship, which had started a butt-end and was leaking
seriously. He had just anchored between Narborough and Albemarle Islands
when he saw a man sitting on the shore, and waving his hands to the
ship. A boat was lowered, and the man brought on board. He was in a
ravenous state of hunger, and half-demented; but after he had been
carefully attended to he was able to give some account of himself.
He was a young Colombian Indian, could speak no English, and only a
mongrel, halting kind of Spanish. The Portuguese cook of the Isaac
Revels, however, understood him. This was his story:--
He was one of the peons of a wealthy Ecuadorian gentleman, who with
another equally rich friend sailed from Guayaquil for the Galapagos
Islands (which belong to Ecuador), and the largest of which,
Albemarle Island, they had leased from that Government for sheep and
cattle-breeding. They took with them a few thousand silver dollars,
which the peon saw placed in “an iron box” (safe).
One of the merchants had with him his two young daughters. The vessel
was a small brig, and the captain and crew mostly Chilenos. One night,
when the brig was half-way across to the Galapagos (600 miles from
Ecuador) the peon, who was on deck asleep, was suddenly seized, pitched
down into the fo'c'stle, and the scuttle closed. Here he was left alone
until dawn, and then ordered on deck, aft. The captain pointed a pistol
at his head, and threatened to shoot him dead if he ever spoke of what
had happened in the night. The man--although he knew nothing of what had
happened--promised to be secret, and was then given fifty dollars, and
put in the mate's watch. He saw numerous blood-stains on the after-deck,
and soon after was told by one of the hands that all the four passengers
had been murdered, and thrown overboard. The captain, mate and four men,
it appeared, had first made ready a boat, provisioned, and lowered it.
They made some noise, which aroused the male passengers, one of whom
came on deck to see what was the matter. He was at once seized, but
being a very powerful man, made a most determined fight. His friend
rushed up from below with a revolver in his hand, and shot two of the
assailants dead, and wounded the mate. But they were assailed on
all sides--shot at and struck with various weapons, and then thrown
overboard to drown. Then the pirates, after a hurried consultation, went
below, and forcing open the girls' cabin door, ruthlessly shot them,
carried them on deck, and cast them over the side. It had been their
intention to have sent all four away in the boat, but the resistance
made so enraged them that they murdered them instead.
For some days the pirates kept on a due west course towards the
Galapagos. A barrel of spirits was broached, and night and day captain
and crew were drunk. When Albemarle Island was sighted, every one
except the peon and a boy was more or less intoxicated. A boat had been
lowered, and was towing astern--for what purpose the peon did not
know. At night it fell a dead calm, and a strong current set the brig
dangerously close in shore. The captain ordered some of the hands
into her to tow the brig out of danger; they refused, and shots were
exchanged, but after a while peace was restored. The peon and the boy
were then told to get into the boat, and bale her out, as she was leaky.
They did so, and whilst so engaged a sudden squall struck the brig, and
the boat's towline either parted, or was purposely cast off.
When the squall cleared, the peon and boy in the drifting boat could
see nothing whatever of the brig--she had probably capsized--and the two
unfortunate beings soon after daylight found themselves so close to
the breakers on Narborough Island that they were unable to pull her
clear--she being very heavy. She soon struck, and was rolled over and
over, and the Chileno boy drowned. The peon also received internal
injuries, but managed to reach the shore.
The people on board the _Isaac Revels_ did all they could for the poor
fellow, but he only survived a few days.
In another article in this volume I have told of my fruitless efforts to
induce some of the Rook Island cannibals to “recruit” with me. It was on
that voyage I first saw a party of New Guinea head-hunting pirates, and
I shall never forget the experience.
After leaving Rook Island, we stood over to the coast of German New
Guinea, and sailed along it for three hundred miles to the Dutch
boundary (longitude 141 east of Greenwich) for we were in hopes of
getting a full cargo of native labourers from some of the many islands
which stud the coast. No other “labour” ship had ever been so far north,
and Morel (the skipper) and I were keenly anxious to find a new ground.
We had a fine vessel, with a high freeboard, a well-armed and splendid
crew, and had no fear of being cut off by the natives. (I may here
mention that I was grievously disappointed, for owing to the lack of
a competent interpreter I failed to get a single recruit. But in other
respects the voyage was a success, for I did some very satisfactory
trading business)
After visiting many of the islands, we anchored in what is now named
in the German charts Krauel Bay, on the mainland. There were a few
scattered villages on the shore, and some of the natives boarded us.
They were all well-armed, with their usual weapons, but were very shy,
distrustful and nervous.
Early one morning five large canoes appeared in the offing--evidently
having come from the Schouten Islands group, about ten miles to the
eastward. The moment they were seen by the natives on shore, the
villages were abandoned, and the people fled into the bush.
In a most gallant style the five canoes came straight into the bay, and
brought-to within a few hundred fathoms of our ship, and the first thing
we noticed was a number of decapitated heads hanging over the sides of
each craft, as boat-fenders are hung over the gunwale of a boat. This
was intended to impress the White Men.
We certainly were impressed, but were yet quite ready to make short work
of our visitors if they attempted mischief. Our ship's high freeboard
alone would have made it very difficult for them to rush us, and the
crew were so well-armed that, although we numbered but twenty-eight, we
could have wiped out over five hundred possible assailants with ease had
they attempted to board and capture the ship.
Some of the leaders of this party of pirates came on board our vessel,
and Morel and I soon established very friendly relations with them. They
told us that they had been two months out from their own territory (in
Dutch New Guinea) had raided over thirty villages, and taken two hundred
and fifteen heads, and were now returning home--well satisfied.
Morel and I went on board one of the great canoes, and were received in
a very friendly manner, and shown many heads--some partly dried, some
too fresh, and unpleasant-looking.
These head-hunting pirates were not cannibals, and behaved in an
extremely decorous manner when they visited our ship. A finer, more
stalwart, proud, self-possessed, and dignified lot of savages--if they
could be so termed--I had never before seen.
They left Krauel bay two days later, without interfering with the people
on shore, and Morel and I shook hands, and rubbed noses with the leading
head-hunters, when we said farewell.