CONFUSING NOMENCLATURE OF THE PROTECTORATE--THE PAPUAN TYPE--
THE MELANESIAN--BLANCHE BAY AND ENVIRONS--SIMPSONHAFEN--WALK
TO MATUPI--THE CAPTAIN OF THE _SUMATRA_--ON THE ADMIRALTY
ISLANDS--THE MOÁNUS--THE USIAI--THE MATANKOR
In the following brief outline of the German colony I prefer to
employ the names with which our atlas has familiarised us, for the
nomenclature of these regions is somewhat maddening. In addition to
the names which the islands had received from their discoverers,
who were mostly British navigators, there are those with which the
Germans re-baptised them on the acquisition of the colony. Then there
are the native appellations in constant use between the planters and
the kanakas (natives) who, commonly known as “boys,” are recruited
for labour purposes from various islands in the Archipelago. Nobody
deprecates the confusion this involves more than the officials
themselves. The difficulty in coastal surveys of identifying this
headland or that harbour with the German name and the native term has
been frequently experienced, and natives who have been swept away
from their local habitations in their canoes have found it utterly
impossible to explain from whence they came, since the authorities
were absolutely incapable of understanding to which part of the
coast they referred. Herr von Lüschan, of the Berlin Anthropological
Society, has strongly urged the retention of the native names.
The Protectorate of New Guinea includes not only the German portion
of the island of New Guinea, known as Kaiser Wilhelm’s land, but also
those islands in North Melanesia known as the Bismarck Archipelago,
with Buka and Bougainville, two of the northernmost Solomon Isles and
a few adjacent groups.
The varied and diversified inhabitants of the Archipelago, for lack
of closer knowledge, are known as Melanesians. Anthropologically
this is a sphere of interest where angels of the expert class fear
to tread. Far be it therefore for so humble a wayfarer as myself to
intrude! It may be well to mention that two distinct types have been
differentiated by ethnologists. The island of New Guinea is regarded
as the headquarters of the dark-skinned, woolly-haired Papuan, and it
is interesting to read that Huxley believed that the aborigines of
this island were more closely allied to the negroes of Africa than
they were to any other race. The Papuan (Malay-frizzled) has been
described by competent authorities as shorter than the European,
but taller than the Malay, smooth-skinned, in colour deeper than
the Melanesian, with thin long limbs, small dolicho-cephalic head,
prominent nose, high narrow forehead, dark eyes, the frizzled hair
worn in a mop, sometimes plaited with grease and mud. He scarifies
his skin, and has no knowledge of pottery. The Melanesian closely
resembles the Papuan, but is lighter in colour, stronger in build,
coarser in feature, less prognathous. He has a knowledge of pottery,
of weaving, practises tattooing and has initiation ceremonies and
numerous symbolic dances. Mr Sydney Ray, whose linguistic studies
of these races entitle him to rank as an authority, considers that
Papuan and Melanesian languages, though apparently belonging to
separate linguistic stocks, show no evidence of any kind connecting
them outside the limits of New Guinea. He thinks that the Melanesian
immigration passing eastward round the north of that island entered
the Bismarck Archipelago. The peculiarity of the languages of these
parts is their extraordinary diversity, natives of villages only a
few miles apart being quite unintelligible to each other. This fact
presupposes, says he, a long period of quite separate existence
of isolated family groups, or gens. These conclusions arrived at
by English scientists are borne out by the evidence of German
authorities on the spot, men not purely scientists, but governors and
officials of the Protectorate.
[Illustration: Map of GAZELLE PENINSULA.
English Miles.]
Under a cloudless sky, with the bold outlines of New Ireland to my
right and with the beautifully wooded upland scenery of the coasts
of New Britain to my left, my thoughts turned to the pioneers of
these seas, to the joy those who first broke into the silence of
this exquisite region must have experienced, as after many days they
once more beheld _terra firma_. As the steamer swiftly threaded her
path along the tranquil scene, we espied occasionally rising above
the woodlands thin wreaths of smoke, betokening human habitation.
Having rounded Cape Orford and noted the receding shores of Great Bay
(Grosse Bai) we approached the Gazelle Peninsula to the north of the
island, parts of which have been settled by the colonists. Although
the coastal survey is now complete, there remains a great deal of
the interior still to be explored. Soon the fine outlines of an
isolated mountain peak appeared in bold relief against the cloudless
sky. This was the Varczin (Vunakokor), rising to nearly 2000 feet,
standing as sentinel at the entrance of the channel, separating the
two islands. This narrow waterway, in the year 1878, was half choked
with pumice from a neighbouring volcano, but since 1890 it has been
pronounced safe for steam navigation. At certain times, however,
according to the prevailing winds, a deep current sets in against
which sailing vessels are almost powerless. Ahead of us, surrounded
with that beauty which dwells in deep retreats, set between ribbons
of silver sea, we caught glimpses of the fertile, for the most part
low-lying, well-wooded group known on our maps as the Duke of York’s
Islands (Neu Lauenburg). Then as we turned sharply round Cape Gazelle
and faced westwards, we passed on our right the Credner Islets, one
of which on account of its favourable position has been chosen as a
quarantine station, and on our left the picturesque little bay of
Kabakaul, where a planter’s house and outbuildings were the first
sign of white men’s presence. Here commences that belt of waving
greenery which the cocoanut plantations present to the European
traveller who for the first time gazes on the Kaiser’s territories
in these latitudes. It stretches almost unbrokenly along the shores
of Blanche Bay. In the neighbourhood of Herbertshöhe the white
habitations of the colonists and other buildings gradually became
visible between the cocoanut palm-trees. We were now sufficiently
close to shore to watch the white surf breaking over the coral reef,
for it may be well to note in passing, that two great agencies have
for countless ages been hard at work here, forming and reforming the
face of nature--in fact they are still busily engaged at the work.
The first of these is the tiny coral insect. Everywhere, excepting
when precipitous cliffs rise from great ocean depths, as on the East
Coast of New Ireland, the coasts are girdled with reefs. Anchorage
is difficult to obtain and landings are often situated where the
coral is of raised plateau formation. The second agent is volcanic
activity. Hot springs are found in many places, and in extinct
craters, where portions of the sides have been blown out, letting in
the sea, the colonist finds best shelter for his ships. Earthquake
shocks are constant, and in my visit of four weeks I experienced
quite half a dozen.
As we entered this beautiful bay we had reefs between us and the
land, whilst on the other side a volcano, known locally as the
Mother, frowned from the end of a promontory which on the north side
semi-encircles Blanche Bay. Thus we gained admittance into one of
nature’s busiest workshops. Our approach had been signalled. As we
stopped in front of Herbertshöhe several canoes had assembled to
meet us. In a boat full of natives a short distance off, I could
only distinguish flat German caps of the well-known official type,
surmounting frizzled hair, but as it came near I perceived that the
occupants wore smart loin-cloths. Their arms showed vaccination
marks, and through their armlets of woven grass had been thrust one,
two, or even three European pipes. Their ear-laps hanging down to
their shoulders were rich in personal property--in fact it struck me
that the family heirlooms were thus safely bestowed.
They seemed excited, and when some mail-bags tumbled down the gangway
my dull perception grasped the fact that I was beholding the transit
of the Imperial mails. The operation interested me. The ship’s
officer approaching, I asked him what these people kept repeating
to each other. He explained that the one in charge was directing the
others to “let them sleep,” and he pointed out that the mail-bags
were being laid side by side in obedience to this injunction. The
excitement of the Gazelle kanakas is intense when once the ship has
rounded the low-lying wooded corner of the island (Cape Gazelle). The
cry “Sail O!” is taken up and repeated from one to the other along
the shore. Possibly the joy lies in the prospect of unlimited stores
of tobacco, which the advent of the monthly mail from Sydney ensures.
[Illustration: ON THE SHORES OF BLANCHE BAY]
I noticed that other natives not in official dress, who approached in
canoes and gazed earnestly up at us, wore feathers or flowers with
bamboo combs in their frizzled mops. In some cases the hair looked
like a yellow or white door-mat, according to the individual’s taste
in colour; necklaces of opossums’ teeth, highly valued, and difficult
to obtain, adorned their dusky necks, whilst tight-fitting bangles on
their wrists and arms, curiously carved out of the tridacna shell,
together with smart loin-cloths (or lava-lavas as they are called),
descending to the knees, completed, in my opinion, a very smart
savage costume.
Having left her mails the steamer proceeded along a well-marked
passage between reef-bound shores to her destination. Whilst waiting
opposite Herbertshöhe, my attention was drawn to a church, with two
spires, standing on an eminence slightly to our left, with adjacent
European structures half hidden by trees, whilst below, a small
schooner, a steam launch, and native craft denoted activities which
apparently centred round long shed-like buildings. This was Vunapope,
the property of the self-supporting Mission of the Sacred Heart
of Jesus. The head of this Roman Catholic and important community
was Bishop Coppée, a Frenchman, whose acquaintance I happily made.
Almost opposite to where the steamer was stopping, I was given to
understand that two houses standing in close proximity to each other
constituted the one and only hotel in the settlement. The Governor’s
residence was just visible through the palm-trees. It is situated on
a commanding height and overlooks the headquarters of the New Guinea
Company and the Government buildings. Not far away a landing-pier,
sheds and store-houses belonging to the great trading firm of Forsyth
are outstanding features along the coast-line. The senior partner
of this successful commercial enterprise, known locally as Queen
Emma, was to become one of my most interesting acquaintances in the
Pacific. Her fine property, Ralum, with her residence, quite the
finest planter’s house in the island, extends along the shore to
the west of Herbertshöhe. A little distance away from the latter
we passed the Wesleyan Mission’s buildings at Raluana, with its
cluster of roofs and native huts. Thus south to south-west of us the
gradually ascending palm-covered uplands encircled the bay. On our
left, nestling at the foot of the Mother, lay the island of Matupi,
its copra plantations and hot springs the property of the firm of
Hernsheim & Co. It was joined to the mainland by a picturesque
wooden bridge which claimed our admiration. Kanakas’ huts close to
the water’s edge gave us our first impression of native life. To
remind us how near we were to those subterranean, or perhaps in
this case, submarine fires to which I have alluded, a rock rising
to considerable height seemed to spring from the shining surface of
the water. It was almost covered with vegetation, a few palm-trees
aspired to fuller growth, but what was our amazement to learn that in
one night, in 1878, during a terrific earthquake, it had been thrown
up from the depths below!
Shortly after we lay alongside the wharf at Simpsonhafen, at the
extreme end of the bay. Here we found two smaller steamers, one,
the _Langeoof_, about to start shortly to various islands in the
Archipelago to recruit native labour; the other, the _Sumatra_, was
a trading-vessel belonging to the N.G.L., which was also preparing
for an inter-island trading diversion on its way to Hong-Kong. After
making arrangements to be transhipped early the following morning by
the _Langeoof_ to Herbertshöhe, I accompanied some fellow-passengers
who were anxious to see as much as they could during the few
hours they were to remain at Simpsonhafen. We passed down the
newly-constructed wooden wharf into the shed where goods being landed
were carried by natives. We were not prepossessed in favour of the
miscellaneous, but miserable specimens of humanity who swarmed about
that quay. One shy youth was brought forward as the picture of a
desirable bridegroom. His teeth, which were blackened, betokened that
he was desirous of entering the married state. Pidgin-English is the
vernacular in these parts, and the native, half comprehending the
good-humoured banter of the ship’s officer, wriggled away from his
grasp. The German introduced another of his pets--this was the most
repulsive little dwarf one could possibly see--and if he had nothing
better than that to show us, we told him we would wait no longer.
[Illustration: POST OFFICE AT SIMPSONHAFEN]
Nothing is more dismal than Simpsonhafen in its present stage.
There are malarial swamps in close proximity to the wharf, and the
place is fever-ridden; no doubt on the hills above there are healthy
sites for dwellings, and probably important buildings will be erected
looking down upon the harbour.
Leaving the long landing-stage we turned sharply to our right, where
a road led to the post-office. We entered; it was simple enough in
its internal arrangements--a gun with a collection of papers lay on
the table.
“How do you like the look of that?” one of the party asked me. In
view of the general disapproval felt at my leaving the ship, my reply
was that fifty guns would not alter my intention to “stay over.”
After buying post-cards and posting letters, we continued our way to
a rudimentary inn, where we refreshed ourselves with lager beer, that
_refugium peccatorum_ of these parts, for the tropical afternoon had
afflicted us with an indescribable thirst. We thought it possible
to compass a visit to Matupi before returning to the ship. The way
was easily found, and for a couple of miles or so, we walked on
good roads through plantations of palm-trees, until we came to the
bridge we had seen from the ship. Here we met some companions who
had left earlier than ourselves. They thought we could get natives
to row us back to the steamer, so we continued our way, meeting a
few kanakas occasionally. One or two carried European knives, which
greatly alarmed a lady of the party. We also met some small native
boys with roughly-made bows and arrows, which they kindly showed us,
illustrating the fact that small children have in various climes much
the same fashions in amusements. It was getting dark as we set foot
on the island. Our way led past a Roman Catholic chapel built by
native labour, then through a village enclosed with a split bamboo
fence about four feet in height, the huts thatched with dried banana
and palm-leaves. No surprise was shown at our presence; the natives
were evidently accustomed to the curious glances of white people.
Then after a short walk through more plantations we were hospitably
received by the manager of Hernsheim’s, and sat in his verandah
chatting and partaking of his hospitality until a boat belonging to
the firm was announced to take us back to the steamer.
We had four natives to row us under the bridge out into the bay,
and in about twenty minutes we were on the decks of the _Prinz
Ferdinand_. The excursion had been delightful in its novelty, but
after dinner we were even more interested in a visit we paid to the
Danish Captain of the _Sumatra_. It was pitch dark, but we were
courteously escorted with the aid of lanterns to the decks of perhaps
the oldest ship then in the service of the N.G.L. The Captain, tall,
well-built, fair, with keen eyes of the deepest blue, looked a
typical Dane. For some three years it had been his lot to visit the
different islands in the Archipelago for trading purposes. Ghastly
tales he could tell of what had befallen white men in those seas,
not by reason of wind and wave, but from man’s inhumanity to man.
I shall never forget the weird sight as sitting round a table on
the decks of the _Sumatra_, our only illumination a badly-trimmed
paraffine lamp, we forgot the blackness of a starless tropical
night, the buzz and whirring of insects, in the interest with which
we listened, spell-bound, to the Dane’s racy account of adventurous
days and stirring scenes. The boyish lightheartedness and charm with
which he described in good English dangerous encounters with the
natives of the Admiralty Islands I think we enjoyed most of all.
Whenever the _Sumatra_ approached the shores of these islands for
trading purposes, long canoes shot out from the coast, each carrying
from twenty to fifty natives in the highest excitement, keen to
exchange their copra and native commodities for knives, beads and
other European articles. The speed with which they sent their canoes
over the water was tremendous. The Captain considered the pace they
went amounted to not less than ten knots an hour. To our inquiry if
he never landed on these occasions, he explained how disaster after
disaster had followed upon repeated attempts to establish trading
stations on these islands, that the warlike, treacherous natives were
not to be trusted. He always stood well out to sea, with full steam
up, ready to be off in case of accident, and the sharpest lookout
was necessary to keep the lithe, active islanders from swarming
up on to the decks. In a few years, said he, settlements no doubt
would be established on the island, and these picturesque sights,
probably almost identical with those which are described by the
first navigators in the South Seas, would be things of the past. The
only person who had ever lived amongst these fierce islanders and
still survived, was Bishop Coppée, although several had visited the
coasts. A short time before, he had taken the prelate to an island
of the group, the object of the latter being to see what could be
done in the way of establishing a mission. When, at the end of a
fortnight, he had called (according to agreement) to take him back to
Herbertshöhe, to his surprise and relief the good bishop, unharmed,
had rejoined him.
“That was just the bravest man I ever saw,” was the sailor’s verdict
after a pause. It should not be long before I made his acquaintance
was my mental resolve. Then we gathered that the Admiralty
Islanders were greatly superior in intelligence to any other in
the Archipelago, resembling the Papuans of New Guinea in living
in pile-built villages over the sea. They are also not unlike the
Solomon Islanders in their knowledge of seamanship in the handling
of their long, well-built canoes. That they are known to take long
voyages in these, is evidenced by the fact that Mr Parkinson, in
his newly-published work entitled _Dreizig Yahre in den Südsee_,
states how he met, in 1897, in the Schouten Group, off the north-east
coast of New Guinea, two canoes full of Admiralty natives. Like the
old Maoris of New Zealand, they possess a rudimentary astronomical
knowledge, for they sail their ships according to what they have
observed of the positions of the stars. When the Pleiades at
nightfall are visible upon the horizon, then they know they may
expect the north-west monsoon, and when the Scorpion makes itself
visible to them at dusk of the evening, they begin to look out for
the south-east winds. Besides naming the most brilliant stars, they
have words to define north and south, east and west, a fact that
shows that they have mastered the first elements of geography.
The Admiralty Islands consist of some forty, for the most part
low-lying, reef-engirdled islands. The largest of these is, however,
mountainous and about fifty miles in length. They are inhabited by
three tribes--the Moánus, the Usiai and the Matankor. In the book to
which I have referred, the author describes how he obtained insight
into the conditions of these tribes. He was able to take down in
writing from an intelligent youth, who with several others had been
brought to Herbertshöhe from the Admiraltys some account of each. The
passages which, I translate from the German run as follows:--
“The Moánus build houses in the sea. They understand canoes,
the rudder, how to propel the canoe with oars, they can swim.
They understand the wind, sailing, the stars, and the moon
and fishing. They agree with each other concerning spirits,
how to perform magic with the pepper-leaf, with lime. The
intelligence of the Moánus is great, their speech one and
undivided.
“The Usiai live in the bush. They do not understand how to go
by sea, nor the use of the rudder, or how to propel the canoe,
nor can they swim. In the canoe they unskilfully permit their
obsidian spears to get wet. The Usiai are cultivators of taro,
scrapers of sago, they are eaters of snakes, they eat men’s
flesh and drink sea-water. The body of the Usiai is filthy,
the breath is unpleasant, their teeth are covered with a crust
of dirt. Their speech is always different.
“The houses of the Matankor are by the shore. The Matankor
understand the canoe, how to sail and can swim. They can
make large fishing-nets. The knowledge of the Matankor is not
great. They know nothing of the stars or of the moon. They do
not understand magic with the pepper-leaf nor with the dust of
lime.”