TAVIUNI—TUI THAKOW—MISSIONARY PERILS—THEIR FRUIT OF PEACE—RATU
LALA—RAMBI ISLE—GIPSY LIFE—VANUA LEVU—A MISSION CONFERENCE—THE
ISLE OF KIA—A VILLAGE FEAST.
SOMO SOMO, ISLE TAVIUNI, _August 4_.
We had a very tedious passage coming here from Bau, but are now repaid
by finding ourselves on this lovely island, which is generally called
“the garden of Fiji,” because of the richness of its vegetation. We have
seen only a small part of the coast, but that is one lovely tangle of
natural foliage, which, seen from the sea, resembles a succession of
green waterfalls, so richly do the vines of every graceful form shroud
the great trees and tall ferns. You see I have adopted the word vine in
its colonial acceptation, to describe all manner of creeping green things
of the earth.
Taviuni has one disadvantage—it lacks the perfect ring of coral which
secures calm water and a sure harbour for most of its neighbours; and
in stormy weather the shore is swept by heavy seas, unchecked by any
protecting barrier-reef. It is about sixty miles in circumference, and is
apparently one great mountain, about 2000 feet high. It is said to be an
extinct volcano. On its summit lies a great lake which has formed in the
crater, and thence descends in a clear stream, which flows into the sea
at this village.[36]
We landed at Vuna Point, and were thankful to find ourselves safely
housed at the mission station. How we did enjoy a jug of fresh milk
sent to us by a kind neighbour! The houses of several planters are here
clustered within a very short distance of one another, making quite a
pleasant little society. We called at several houses, each surrounded
by orange-trees, scarlet hybiscus, gardenia, and other tropical shrubs,
with veils of a tiny scarlet convolvulus; and we passed through a bit
of the primeval forest—noble old trees with wonderful roots forming
natural buttresses. Alas! they are all doomed to destruction. Here, as in
every other beautiful corner of the earth which I have ever visited, the
glories of the natural forest are rapidly vanishing before the planter’s
axe, to make room for a more profitable, if less interesting vegetation.
In the evening there was heavy rain, of which, I believe, this green
isle receives a plentiful allowance. Happily yesterday morning was
fine, and (while the Jubilee slowly beat up the coast to Wairiki, a
distance of twelve miles) we took the boat and rowed close inshore.
It was very lovely. Wairiki is one of the few spots in Fiji where the
Roman Catholic Church has established something of a footing; and it is
the home of two French priests, whose care extends to Somo Somo. The
_lotu katolika_, however, has comparatively few adherents, the people
in general having a strong preference for what they call the _lotu
ndina_—“the true religion”—which, however, in this place seemed to be
in a slovenly condition. We found the house of the native minister so
unpleasant that we did not care to enter it, but made our way to the
very ill-cared-for little church, and had our luncheon brought there,
as it was raining heavily. We were now in the dominions of the great
chief Tui Thakow, a very fine specimen of a high chief, second only to
Thakombau, but, unfortunately, much addicted to drinking and other vices.
Though affording kindly protection to both Catholic priests and Wesleyan
teachers, he eschews the guidance of either, and scandalises both, by
pursuing his own jovial views of domestic life, and keeping up as large
an establishment as in the old heathen days—the ladies of his harem being
practically without limit. His first queen, Andi Eleanor, is at present
out of favour, and lives at Wairiki in a very picturesque house, of which
I made a sketch when the rain stopped. She had some enormous bales of
native cloth lying in the house. She is still very handsome, as is also
her son Ratu Lala, whom I often see at Mr Thurston’s house.
In the afternoon we had a heavy pull, rowing out to the Jubilee, and
found her at anchor, the captain objecting to proceed that night, as the
coral-patches make navigation dangerous in the dark. This delighted me,
of course. So after some deliberation it was decided that we should row
on to this place, Somo Somo, about four miles further, taking our food
and bedding, as we were utterly uncertain where we should sleep, there
being no teacher’s house there. But news of our coming preceded us,
and on landing we were at once conducted to this very fine large house
belonging to Tui Thakow. He himself is absent (supposed to be drunk at a
neighbouring village), but Andi Luciana, the Fair Rosamond who at present
fills the position of chief wife, and who is a daughter of Thakombau, did
the honours with the innate dignity of her race. She is a fine handsome
woman, with a very pleasant face. She is Andi Kuilla’s half-sister. Her
first matrimonial venture was with Koroi Ramundra, at Bau—notwithstanding
her sister’s warning, she having also tried him in the first instance,
and found him unendurable. Andi Luciana rued the day too late, but the
Vuni Valu came to the rescue, and divorced her, and then allowed her to
come and be prime favourite in Tui Thakow’s harem.
We went to call on Tui Thakow’s sister, Andi Eliza, a fine hearty old
lady—the great pillar of the Wesleyan Church in this district. She
cordially smelt all our hands, sniffing with especial devotion that of
the newly-arrived missionary, a man who had never in his life been twenty
miles from his own home in Cornwall, when he was appointed to the sole
charge of this immense district, where there are vast arrears of lost
ground to be made up. Fifty towns without any teacher at all! For some
time there has been no one to undertake the charge of this district,
and now the Society have sent out the only man they could get, but one
who, certainly, is not very likely to impress these keen intelligent
men; which is the more to be regretted, as they are so ready to give all
honour to their white teacher and his message.
This is a very pretty place, and after tea we strolled out again to see
as much of it as we possibly could, first going through the village, and
then exploring the valley behind us.
We lingered a while beside the clear stream, resting under a large
shaddock-tree, the whole air scented with its fragrant flowers, which are
just like a very rich orange-blossom, and grow in large clusters. Then
turning aside beneath the dark shadow of the bread-fruit trees, we sought
the grave of Mr Cross—one of the two first missionaries who came to these
stormy and blood-stained isles.
As we stood by that grave in the quiet starlight, with scarcely a sound
from the peaceful village to disturb the stillness of night, we could not
but think of the strange change that has been wrought in so short a time.
It was in 1835 that these two pioneers landed at Lakemba, far away at the
eastern extremity of the group.
Two years later, the King of Somo Somo (who like the present ruler was
called Tui Thakow) came to Lakemba with his two sons and several hundred
followers. When he saw the knives and hatchets, kettles and pots, which
the Lakembans had received as barter for food and work, he immediately
coveted possession of the goose which laid such golden eggs, so he urged
the mission to come at once and settle at Somo Somo, promising every sort
of advantage—that all the children should attend school, and that he and
his people would give heed to what was taught. The invitation was of
course accepted, though not without qualms, the people of Somo Somo being
so noted for their excess in every conceivable form of crime, that their
name was uttered with dread and even horror throughout the group.
Upwards of a year elapsed ere it was possible to comply with the king’s
request, as it was necessary to obtain further supplies of men and stores
from England. (We do not find this rapid work even now, and it was a
far more difficult matter in those days.) When, in the face of many
difficulties, Mr Hunt and Mr Lyth arrived with their families at Somo
Somo, hoping for the promised welcome, they found that, beyond being
allowed the use of a large empty house belonging to the old king, their
presence was utterly ignored.
They had scarcely landed when news came that the king’s youngest son,
Ra Mbithi, had been lost at sea; or rather, that his canoe had drifted
to the isle of Ngau, where, as a matter of course, he was captured and
eaten. Great was the lamentation made for him, and utterly vain were
the prayers of the new-comers that the women doomed to death, according
to custom, might be spared. Sixteen women were forthwith strangled, and
their bodies buried close to the door of the great house in which the
strangers were lodged. Then in quick succession they were compelled to
witness scenes of cruelty and degradation too deep for words. Deeds of
darkest abomination were the familiar sights of everyday life, and the
people of Somo Somo proved themselves fully entitled to the character
they bore throughout the group, of being the vilest of the vile. Cannibal
feasts, attended by wildest orgies, were of constant occurrence, the
bodies being cooked in ovens close to the house in which Mr Hunt and
Mr Lyth had their quarters; and so great was the offence they gave by
closing the doors to try and shut out the revolting scenes, that their
own lives were endangered, and the king’s son, Tuikilakila, came up
furiously, club in hand, threatening to kill Mr Lyth, who had ventured on
remonstrance.
There was one awful night in particular, when they believed their doom
to be decided. There was no thought of defence, for that was quite
impossible; but they closed the frail doors, hung up curtains of native
cloth to hide them from the eyes that peered in through the slight reed
wall on the great gloomy house, and throughout the long hours of that
terrible night they knelt in prayer, expecting each moment that the
savages would rush in and seal their doom. An awful brooding stillness
prevailed, which suddenly was broken by a wild ringing yell; but it was
not a death-shout. The people had determined to spare the strangers, and
the call was an invitation to all the women to come out and dance, which
they accordingly did.
Scenes such as these marked the early years of the mission. So far from
granting the promised protection, the chiefs opposed the work in every
possible way, forbidding the people to become Christian on pain of death
and the oven. The ladies and their children dared not leave the close
house in the heart of the town, and their health suffered from the
confinement.
After a while Mr Lyth’s medical skill brought him into some repute, and
the young chief was his first patient,—a man of magnificent stature and
physical development. Mr Lyth attended him during a long illness, and had
the satisfaction of seeing him recover his health, and also of feeling
that he had in a measure won his friendship.
The old king, too, was seriously ill, and claimed medical aid; but he
was not a pleasant patient, as, on the slightest provocation, he would
seize his club and threaten to kill his doctor, who on one occasion
fled, leaving his coat-tail in the hand of his interesting patient—a
loss not easily replaced at Somo Somo! It was at this time (1842) that
Mr Cross came to stay here, to profit by Mr Lyth’s medical skill; but
it was too late. The constant wearing anxieties of his life, first in
the Friendly Islands, and afterwards at Lakemba and Viwa—continually
striving and struggling with men fiercer and more degraded than any wild
beasts—had utterly worn him out; and he arrived here only to enter into
his well-earned rest, leaving a widow and five children. So he was laid
here; and some little graves beside him tell of the sorrowing mothers
whose little ones died in those sad years. Not long after this came
the ceremony of the old king’s death. For some time he had gradually
grown more and more feeble; and though a virulent old heathen, and most
inveterate cannibal, his appearance was so venerable and benevolent, that
the mission party had become positively attached to him. Latterly they
had begun to acquire a little influence over him, and had succeeded in
saving some women from being strangled, and some war-captives from being
slain for the oven. Several large canoes had also been launched, and
suffered to make their first voyage, without the sacrifice of one human
victim,—a thing hitherto unprecedented; and though all Christian teaching
was strongly opposed, it had not been wholly without result. Twenty-one
persons had found courage openly to profess themselves converts, one of
these being the king’s brother. So there was good reason to hope that the
old man would be allowed to die a natural death; and the chief anxiety
of Mr Williams, who had succeeded Mr Hunt as missionary here, was to
save the lives of the women. Having left the old king apparently pretty
well, he was much startled on hearing next morning that he was dead, and
that preparations were being made for his funeral. He hurried back to
the house, to find the family in the very act of strangling two veiled
figures. Each was surrounded by a company of women, all sitting on the
ground; and on either side of each group a row of eight or ten strong
men were hauling a white cord, which was passed round the neck of the
victim. Too late to save these, he passed on to look at the dead chief,
and to his astonishment found him still alive, though his chief wife was
preparing him for the grave, by covering him with a coat of black powder,
tying streamers of white native cloth round his arms and legs, a scarlet
handkerchief on his head, armlets, and head ornament of small white
cowries, a necklace of large whales’ teeth, with long curved points, and
an immense train of new native cloth, arranged in loose folds at his
feet. This done, a blast of trumpet-shells was blown by the priests, and
the chief priest, in the name of the people, hailed Tuikilakila as king,
saying, “The sun of one king has set, but our king yet lives.” It is the
Fijian rendering of “Le roi est mort; vive le roi!”
Seeing that all pleading for the life of the old chief must be without
avail, Mr Williams had to content himself with praying that the two women
already strangled might suffice; and to this the young chief agreed,
adding that, but for his intercession, all the women present should have
died. Those who had already been put to death had been duly decorated,
their faces covered with vermilion, their bodies oiled, and adorned
with garlands of leaves and flowers. They were then wrapped in mats,
and carried to the sea-shore, where they were laid on either end of a
canoe. For some reason unexplained, the king might not be carried out by
a common doorway; so the side of his house was broken down, and he too
was carried to the canoe, where his queen sat by him, fanning him to keep
off the flies. She had asked, with well-assumed grief, why she too might
not be strangled, but was soothed by being assured that there was no one
present of sufficiently high rank to act as her executioner.
So the funeral procession started for Weilangi, where the chiefs of Somo
Somo are buried, and the grave having been lined with mats, the two women
were laid in it, as grass for the king’s grave; and then he too was laid
therein (having first been stripped of his necklace and shell ornaments).
Cloth and mats were heaped over him: and the poor old man was distinctly
heard coughing while the earth was being heaped on him.
So died the fierce chief Tui Thakow. A period of ceremonial mourning
followed, when men shaved their heads, and women burnt their bodies and
cut off their fingers, sixty of which were inserted in hollow reeds,
and stuck along the eaves of the king’s house, as pleasant and fragrant
tokens of sympathy.
Tuikilakila being now the great and all-powerful chief, his determined
opposition to the preaching of Christianity made the work of the mission
almost hopeless. He publicly repeated his determination to kill and
eat any of the people who should venture to interest themselves in
the matter. So after toiling for two years more, in the face of this
most disheartening opposition, Mr Williams determined to abandon this
unfruitful field for a season. He had, however, to escape, almost by
stratagem, as the mission stores and articles of barter were precious
in the eyes of the people, who would have kept him prisoner had his
intention been known.
So evil continued to run riot unchecked; and Tuikilakila, who had assumed
the royal title of Tui Thakow, continued his evil ways till 1854, when he
was murdered, while asleep, by his own son. That son was murdered by his
brother, to avenge the death of the father, and this brother was himself
murdered in his turn. Then civil war broke out; the tribe became divided
against itself; every man’s hand was against his neighbour; and soon the
land was made desolate, and the town of Somo Somo, once the strongest
power in Fiji, was left utterly deserted.
Now that peace is established in the land, and that the successor of
the old Tui Thakows is responsible to England for the wise government
of his people, all might be well were it not for the fatal influence of
drink,—that curse which the chiefs have so wisely made it a criminal
offence to supply to their people, but which some of themselves, and this
noble-looking fellow above all others, find it impossible to resist.[37]
I send you all this long story just to give you a faint idea of the
horrible scenes that formerly made up the simple incidents of daily life
in this now quiet lovely place; but of course I cannot possibly expect
you to realise them, as we do, who are actually on the spot—the more
so, as my companions have been eyewitnesses of very similar scenes in
different parts of the group, and have heard all details of these events
from people who actually took part in them,—many of the worst cannibals
of those days being now useful and devoted Christians; some are even
teachers and class-leaders.
The loveliness of the night tempting us to stroll further, we came to an
old graveyard, and noticed that the fence round it also enclosed a large
native house. Here it was that the father of the present Tui Thakow was
murdered, and his wife strangled at the funeral. They were buried in the
house, which was then abandoned and rendered _tambu_ (_i.e._, sacred or
forbidden to touch) to all Fijians.
We sat for long on a grassy hillock, rejoicing in the clear brilliant
moonlight and balmy air, and quite regretted the necessity of sleep.
Andi Luciana had most kindly given me her own especial corner, with her
large so-called mosquito-curtains of native cloth: I took the precaution
of hanging up my own, however. A similar screen had been prepared for Mr
and Mrs Langham, and our hostess had retired with her ladies to sleep in
a large house close by, called her kitchen. I could not help contrasting
our peaceful night, left in possession of this clean new house, with that
awful night of dread, when Mrs Lyth and Mrs Hunt, with their little ones,
watched through the long hours in the dark, gloomy, old house, waiting
for the moment of their massacre. We all slept in peace, and no ill
dreams disturbed our rest.
This morning it is raining heavily, to which fact you are indebted for
this long letter. A kind white man—I think his name is M’Pherson—has
just sent us in a bottle of milk, with some nice fresh bread, a pot
of home-made marmalade, and a large basket of lemons, which are most
refreshing on board ship. It is a most acceptable present, and we are
about to enjoy our breakfast.
_Extract from the ‘Fiji Times,’ Wednesday, August 11, 1880._
“INSTALLATION OF RATU LALA.
“The installation of Ratu Lala as Roko Tui Cakaudrove, in place
of his father the late Tui Cakau, took place at an early hour
on Thursday morning last at Somo Somo.
“His Excellency the Governor landed from H.M.S. Wolverene
between seven and eight o’clock, and immediately afterwards
proclamation was made by the Mati ni Vanuas of Cakaudrove that
the chief was about to be installed; an announcement which
was met by the beating of all the _lalis_ in the town, and by
peculiar cries and shouts by the people assembled from within
their houses, inside which, by immemorial usage, they were
expected to remain during the ceremony. After these regulation
cries, the most death-like silence was observed until the close
of the proceedings. The elders of the province then assembled
in the large house occupied by the late Tui Cakau, and were all
carefully seated according to the rank and precedence of each,
an operation requiring some time. When this was accomplished,
his Excellency and his staff entered the building and the
making of _yaqona_ commenced. According to the etiquette on
these occasions, this was made in silence, without any song
or _méké_; and, when made, various set forms of speech and
response were uttered, the names and deeds of the ancestors of
the new chief commemorated, and prayers for blessings on the
people, the fruits, the animals, &c., of the land, pronounced,
these being almost an exact counterpart of those formerly
addressed to the heathen gods, but which were now offered to
the True God and the Holy Spirit. On the conclusion of these
ceremonies, his Excellency declared the bowl of _yaqona_ just
taken from the _tanoa_, to be that for the drinking of the ‘Na
Turaga ko na Roko Ratu Tui Cakaudrove,’ thereby conferring that
designation on Ratu Lala, who drank its contents.
“When he had done so, the Mati ni Vanua again made
proclamation, and the same beating of _lalis_ and tumultuous
shouting which had preceded the commencement of the
proceedings, was repeated, and the injunction on the people to
remain within doors removed.
“A dinner was now brought in by the ladies of the place and
laid before the new Roko Tui, who, according to precedent, ate
a few mouthfuls. The native ceremonial being thus concluded,
the more European part of the ceremony began. His Excellency
took his seat on a raised platform covered with mats and
_masi_, and the young Roko, rising for the first time during
the proceedings, and having his long train of black and white
_masi_, perhaps thirty yards in length, supported by some of
his followers, approached his Excellency, and sitting before
him, took the oath of allegiance to the Queen, and one of
obedience to the Governor, placing his hands within those of
his Excellency as he did so. The Governor then delivered to
him the long staff of office, at the same time pronouncing
these words, ‘Take with this staff, authority to rule as Roko
Tui in the province of Cakaudrove. Take heed to the welfare of
the people submitted to your care. Be to them a father, not a
taskmaster. Lead them, guide them, teach them; and in all your
doings remember that strict and solemn account which you must
one day render at the judgment-seat of God.’
“The Roko having returned to his seat his Excellency made a
few brief remarks to those assembled, and the proceedings
terminated.”
* * * * *
NANDURI, THE CHIEF TOWN OF MATHUATA VANUA LEVU, _August 7_.
We arrived here yesterday. But you will like to hear of our voyage in
detail. So to return to Somo Somo. When we went to say good-bye to Andi
Luciana, we found her, with all her attendants, busily making native
cloth, as were also most of the women in the town. They are preparing
for a great meeting of the chiefs, at which all their finery will
be required. However, I succeeded in buying several pieces of very
delicately painted _tappa_.
This great meeting, at which Sir Arthur is to be present, is a topic of
vast interest. Already four houses, each twelve fathoms long, and tied
with the best sinnet, have been built for guests, and there is a special
house for the _kovana_ (governor). Already 150 turtle have been captured,
and are kept in the turtle-fences, ready for the great festival: so it is
to be a great event. In one house we found women making coarse pottery,
but I was not tempted to add it to my collection.
We had a long row to the Jubilee, and then made slow progress. All
the morning there was hardly a breath stirring; but at noon the wind
rose sharply, and about 3 P.M. it became so gusty, and the weather
altogether so threatening, that the captain, not knowing the coast, and
wisely avoiding unnecessary risk, decided to anchor for the night off
Rambi Island. The water was so deep that we were able to anchor close
to the shore, in a lovely bay. The island belongs exclusively to two
planters—Messrs Dawson and Hill,—and the point where we landed was five
miles from their house—that of their overseer occupying a prominent
position on a high rock above us. He was, however, absent, and we found
only two Tanna men in charge of the place.
A tame cat, however, welcomed us with delight, and never left us—trotting
beside us in all our rambles. We found pleasant paths leading through
fine bush, the foliage very rich, and immense specimens of the
bird’s-nest fern growing as a parasite on the _pandanus_ and other trees;
then passing through a field of maize I gathered and ate half-ripe corn
cobs, which were excellent—stolen bread being proverbially so: it is a
beautiful crop, growing far above my head. Then we went on to inspect
the deserted house, which stands on a great mass of brown rock, in the
crevices of which grow huge hart’s-tongue and other ferns. It commands a
lovely view of the bay on either side, but is the flimsiest of all the
breezy houses I have seen in Fiji—merely built of open-work reeds—and as
a stiff wind was blowing, we thought we should gain little by sleeping
in it, so returned to the shore and took possession of a forsaken
boat-house, where we spread our waterproofs, blankets, and pillows. The
Fijian teachers who accompanied us prepared beds of dried plantain-leaves
for themselves, and kindled a great fire on the beach, which they
continually fed with dead palm-leaves to keep up a cheery blaze. There we
boiled our kettle for tea, and had a cheery meal in the moonlight, and
then explored the white sands till we came to picturesque dark rocks,
encircling a tiny bay, with great trees overhanging the water—a gem of a
bathing-place. We dare not often venture on sea-bathing, as we never know
how close inshore the sharks will venture.
The night proved stormy, and we rejoiced greatly that we were spending
it on dry land. The island is about thirty miles in circumference, and
is chiefly a great cocoa-nut plantation. The nuts are brought from all
parts of the island to the machinery houses on the beach, below Mr Hill’s
house, where they are broken up, and the kernel dried, either in the sun
or by steam in the drying-house, by which process it becomes _coppra_;
and being then packed in bags, is ready for export, to be converted
into oil by great crushing-machines. The outer husk is then passed
into machines known as “devils,” by which it is torn up, and the fibre
combed out and cleaned, and passed through a screw-press, by which it is
compressed into bales, and so prepared for the market, to reappear as
mats and brushes, and other familiar objects. I wonder how many people,
as they rub off English mud on such cocoa-mats, ever give a thought
to the beautiful isles where that fibre was grown, or to the regiment
of wild, almost naked, savages—the “foreign labour”—who, from one
circumstance or another, have each left the far-away isle he calls home,
to come and work the strange machinery on the white man’s plantation!
At daybreak, after a hurried breakfast, we left the lovely island
with much regret. A strong wind and a heavy sea gave us a rough, wet,
unpleasant day while we crossed Natewa Bay, off Vanua Levu—thirty miles
of open sea. Then we once more neared the land, entered the passage of
Namooka, and were again in smooth water. Oh the blessedness of being
safe inside the reef!—the delight of that sudden change from tossing in
miserable discomfort on the great waste of unreasoning waters, to the
perfect repose of gliding over the calm untroubled lake that lies within
the mighty coral breakwater which the raging breakers may never overpass!
We were now coasting close along the shore of Vanua Levu, which at this
point is very bare and unfertile, in striking contrast to the luxuriant
isles we had just left. The whole coast, with its fine mountain-ranges,
reminded me strongly of Argyleshire, the _noko-noko_ (casurina trees)
taking the place of birch. But for some stunted palms, and grotesque
_pandanus_, we could not have told we were in the tropics; and indeed the
cold blue-grey foliage of the latter is nowise suggestive of a land of
sunny influences. Further on, the coast is edged with the glossy green
of the _tiri_ (mangrove), which always tells of a hateful swampy shore,
over which the roots of this water-loving tree spread in an inextricable
network. Hidden in this swamp, swarming with mosquitoes, lies the
deserted town of Mota, one of many which have been left desolate, either
in consequence of intertribal war, or the ravages of the measles. Just
before sunset we came to a lovely uninhabited isle, where we anchored
for the night. Determined not to sleep on board the schooner, her cabin
being stuffy, and her deck hard, we went ashore to explore. We landed
on a beach of fine white sand, shadowed by palms and rich hardwood,
and enclosed by high sandstone cliffs of warm colours: and here we had
supper, and hunted for sleeping-quarters. We found an overhanging rock,
just like the rock-temples of Ceylon, where the sacred images of Buddha
are carved; and I really thought we looked rather like a row of Buddhas
as we lay beneath this rock-canopy. What with the calm sea, and the
mingled light of the red fires and the clear moonlight, glittering on the
great waving palm-leaves, and all the brown teachers cooking their yams,
it was a most picturesque scene; and the invariable evening prayer and
singing acquires deeper interest when one thinks how recently a canoe,
landing in such a place, would come in cautiously, not knowing whether
hidden foes might not be lying in wait to club and eat its crew. The
morning and evening family prayer is invariable.
It was a lovely night, clear and beautiful. At sunrise we embarked,
and sailed with a fair wind, still keeping close inshore. The scenery
continued to suggest Argyleshire, range beyond range of mountains,
detached masses of rock and islands, pretty colouring, but poor
vegetation—a calm and pleasant sail.
About noon we reached this town, Nanduri, which is the capital of this
district of Mathuata. It is badly situated, being on a muddy shore,
densely overgrown with mangrove, but it is very tidy and rather pretty.
The quarters prepared for us were a tiny new house, built of coral-lime,
and nicely matted. This, to the Fijian mind, is the very acme of
architecture and foreign art. I confess to infinitely preferring the
purely native house, with reed or leaf sides, and many doors. Food was
immediately brought to us, according to the usual hospitable custom.
Several women each carried a tray of plaited fibre, on which lay pieces
of green banana-leaf, with yams of different sorts, _taro_, and sweet
potatoes. Another had a black pot, in which was a fowl, which had been
boiled with _taro_ tops, making an excellent soup; others had fresh-water
prawns and small fish; and then came the height of culinary triumph, in
several kinds of pudding with sweet sauce, all tied up in pieces of young
banana-leaf, warmed over the fire to make them oil-proof, and looking
like little green bags. Then came the formal customary little speeches
of offering and accepting all these good things—of which we partook, and
then went off to call upon the chief.
The worthy man deemed it necessary quickly to don a shirt, with the tail
worn outside, over his handsome chief-like drapery of _tappa_. He stood
facing us for fully two minutes while he struggled with his buttons, ere
he was ready to shake hands and welcome us to his town. Then he took
us into his house to see his wife, after which ceremony our chief care
was, as usual, to find some quiet shady corner where we might enjoy a
bathe undisturbed. Our quest, however, proved unsatisfactory, the brook
being shallow, and the group of admiring women and children unusually
inquisitive. No wonder! Two white women were a sight rarely seen; and
one being so tall, the other small, added interest to the spectacle. And
when the pale creatures divested themselves of successive articles of
raiment, so needlessly numerous, and then took off their boots, revealing
stockings, and when the stockings gave place to feet many shades paler
than the sun-browned face and hands, their curiosity on the subject knew
no bounds; moreover, we were accompanied by Mrs Langham’s god-daughter, a
very fair delicate little girl, whose sunny hair was always a source of
delight to the people wherever we stopped. And indeed Mrs L. has herself
such masses of beautiful long silky hair as might well astonish these
women, accustomed from their childhood to have their own crisp locks
cut within four inches of the head, round which it stands out like a
halo—being always of a tawny sienna colour, from the lime with which it
is so constantly washed.
Having completed our toilet, we returned to the village, where there
was service in a large church, which was crowded with a most devout
congregation. Many strangers from surrounding villages were present,—as
were also all interested in the teachers, schools and church matters
generally,—to meet the superintendent, and decide certain questions;
moreover, the chief was anxious that the annual mission meeting should be
celebrated with unusual demonstration. So a very large number of persons
had assembled, and many turtle had already been captured for the feast.
I devoted this morning to sketching the curious little jail, a building
of strong cocoa-nut posts, deeply sunken in the earth, which is dug out
to make the cell, the earth being heaped up outside, almost to the eaves
of the wide-thatched roof. It seemed as if the principal and speedy
result of imprisonment must be suffocation; but the idea of having a jail
at all is as novel as a black coat, and as foreign to Fijian custom. A
canoe is just starting for some point whence letters are forwarded to
Levuka, so I must close this.
* * * * *
NANDURI, VANUA LEVU, _Friday, August 11_.
MY DEAR JEAN,—I have already sent Nell a long letter from here, now I
will begin one to you, to carry on my story, though I can only write
occasional fragments, as there are so many interesting things to see
and do. It was a pleasant surprise in this remote district to find a
countryman—Mr Fraser from Nairn, and his wife. They invited us to dine in
their Fijian house, a simple one-roomed cottage, but made pleasant and
home-like by a few decorative touches, and by the presence of the young
mother and her little ones.
The Langhams being necessarily much absorbed in matters relating to their
work, these kind new friends undertook to show me as much as they could
of the neighbourhood. So first we climbed up a green valley to a village
on the brow of the hill, whence we had a fine view of this “Great Land”
as we looked inwards to its mountain-ranges. Here we first found the
sago-palm with its clusters of small nuts: and also gathered loads of
lilac orchids. On our way back, looking seawards, we saw quite a fleet of
picturesque canoes, with great yellow mat-sails, approaching the isle.
Loud and discordant blasts on their shell-trumpets announced that they
brought a large addition to the turtles required for the feast: five or
six have been cooked every day since we arrived, a small item in the
feeding of so great a multitude. They are cleaned and then baked in their
shells. The chief also gives one thousand yams and three or four pigs
daily. The amount of green fat that has been bestowed on us would have
rejoiced a true _gourmet_; but his enjoyment would have been alloyed by
the fact that the turtle are invariably cooked before presentation, and
very badly cooked too, being invariably smoky and insipid.
We reached the shore just as the canoes were unloading, and in a few
moments fifteen large turtle lay on their backs on the grassy bank,
flapping and gaping piteously. These were an offering to the chief from
the new-comers. They have mustered in great force. Fully three thousand
people have assembled on this wild coast. They have come from long
distances, and from every direction, to attend this meeting of such
teachers as there are, and to beg that a larger number may be provided.
They say that sixty towns are now without teachers. But the difficulty
is to provide the men fitted for the work, most of the candidates being
simply young students, not ripe for such responsible posts.
About twelve miles from Nanduri there is a small but very picturesque
rocky island, called Kia,—a bold mass jutting up from the sea. I longed
to see it nearer, and the Frasers most kindly agreed to accompany me.
The chief lent us his fine large canoe and capital crew, which included
several of his own kinsfolk—stalwart, chief-like men.
We started soon after sunrise, and a fresh breeze carried us over in a
couple of hours. The island is a perfect triumph of careful cultivation.
By nature it was only a huge mass of bare rock; but so diligently
have its inhabitants filled up every crevice with soil brought from
the mainland, that they have succeeded in growing so many palms and
bananas, that now, when seen from the sea, this once barren rock
appears positively fertile. We landed at a village where the chief was
superintending the finishing of a huge mat canoe sail, which was spread
upon the ground in the cool shadow of a group of old trees. Of course
we had to go through the form of being received in the house; but on
expressing a wish to breakfast beside the sea, we were invited to sit on
the mat-sail, and allowed to be happy in our own way.
I only wish it were possible to convey to you all the impressions of
delight of such a day as this—all the thousand details of beauty, which
give such light and gladness to the life I find so fascinating, though
it sounds so dry and dead when I try to put it into words. Just try if
you can, ever so faintly, realise the picture. A calm glittering blue
sea, white coral sands sparkling in the sunlight, ourselves in deep cool
shade of dense glossy foliage, whence bunches of rosy silky tassels float
down with every breath of air, as playthings for tiny brown children
in lightest raiment. And then the multitude of wandering shells, each
tenanted by a shy hermit crab, assembling cautiously round us to gather
up stray crumbs. Close by are the graves of successive generations of
these hardy fishers, who have lived and died on this tiny isle, without
an aspiration beyond it. Now the graves are overgrown with tangles of the
marine convolvulus with lilac blossom, while the starry white convolvulus
hangs in light drapery from the rocks beyond. And beyond the sea rise the
blue mountain-ranges of Vanua Levu, in ever-changing light and shadow.
Mrs Fraser had brought her two little ones with her; so she decided to
spend the day at this quiet spot, while her husband accompanied me on a
walk round the island. Her perfect knowledge of the language makes her
thoroughly at home with all these kindly people. So we started on our
walk, which we found practicable, except at one point, where, the cliffs
being precipitous, and the tide having risen, I had to accept the offer
of a strong native to carry me round a headland to the next bay. He took
me up in his arms like a big baby, and though forced to confess that I
was _bimbi sara_—_i.e._, very heavy—he carried me ever so far round in
the sea!
We visited each of the four quaint little villages, and entered
innumerable houses, searching for baskets of a particular kind only made
here. In this quest we were tolerably successful, and stayed some time
to watch the women weaving them with dexterous fingers: they are of
very fine fibre and most intricate pattern. Of course we were objects
of mutual interest, and the astonishment of the people at our sudden
appearance knew no bounds. I doubt whether any of these people had ever
seen a white woman before—Mrs Fraser’s presence, even at Nanduri, being
purely accidental (her husband having just been appointed to superintend
the formation of the new district gardens, by the produce of which every
district is henceforth to pay its taxes).
We succeeded in buying some interesting specimens of old manufactures,
carved bowls, and stone axes, then turned aside to visit some most poetic
burial-grounds. One of them haunts me still, it was so peaceful—a lonely
grassy headland, with half-a-dozen graves, strewn with red or white
coral, and shadowed by one palm. It was sheltered by great red cliffs,
and beyond it lay the calm wide ocean bathed in glittering light. I
would fain have lingered to sketch the scene, but we had to hurry on as
fast as we could possibly walk. Such a scramble! As it was, we found on
our return that the wind had changed, and we could not return to the
mainland that night. At first we insisted on starting, and actually
embarked, but we saw that the crew wore really afraid of danger, so
of course we yielded and came ashore again, when the kind islanders
brought us a capital supper. The people are all fishers, and a canoe-load
of rainbow-coloured fish—some pure scarlet, some vivid green, some
silvery—had just been brought in, as also many crabs.
Most mothers would have been somewhat perturbed at such a _contretemps_;
but Mrs Fraser took it quite calmly, and the people provided us with fine
mats, and as a matter of course conducted us to the _vale ni lotu_ (the
house of religion), where we slept undisturbed—my big sun-hat acting
as my pillow. But after a while I awoke, and crept out into the clear
moonlight, and sat alone on the silent shore, drinking in the delicious
night breeze.
Towards morning it blew pretty hard, but at sunrise Mr Fraser got a small
canoe to enable me to reach a cliff which I wished to sketch; but the
canoe was so tiny, and the sea so rough, that it was on the verge of
swamping. We therefore landed, and walked as far as was possible. Then
I got in alone, and the boatman, a ’cute, sturdy little fellow, half
paddled, half swam, while I rapidly made my drawing.
We walked back, found breakfast ready, and once more embarked. The fine
canoe flew before the wind, cutting through the water beautifully, of
course shipping seas and involving much bailing out—a process which is
sometimes done with a wooden scoop, but more frequently by throwing out
the water with the sole of the foot, using it like a hand. It needed
half-a-dozen tacks to bring us to land; and each of these, in a canoe of
this size, involves serious labour, as the base of the heavy triangular
sail must be lifted by main force, and carried to the opposite end of the
canoe by the combined strength of several men.
On the way a bit of the great mat-sail came unsewn, and the men in charge
(themselves high caste) were in such terror of arriving with anything
wrong that we ran in behind the mangroves to sew it up ere they would
venture to go on, as they dared not face the chief with anything out of
order. This, his own canoe, is the only one which dares approach Nanduri
with sail up and flag flying, and as he was not on board, even we dipped
the flag as we drew near, the flag being a streamer of _masi_. All other
canoes must lower their sail while at a considerable distance, and row to
shore, as a mark of deep respect.
We called on the chief to thank him for the loan of his canoe, and found
his people dispensing food to their guests on rather an extensive scale
of entertainment. The business part of the meeting was nearly over,
and the people were all arriving for the solevu, or great feast of the
morrow. In the evening there was singing, and some dancing by torchlight,
but no Fijian cares to dance much till the moon rises, and that was not
due before midnight.
Next morning many more canoes arrived—such a pretty bustling scene; and
as it would be rash to put on festal array before landing, all the best
cloth and garlands came in baskets, and the whole shore was one great
dressing-room, where the mysteries of the toilet were carried on in the
sight of the sun. The weather was greatly in our favour, for though heavy
clouds hung threateningly over us they merely shielded us from the sun,
and no rain fell.
Soon after breakfast we all went to the _rara_ (_i.e._, village green),
where we were invited to sit beside the Roko (the chief, Tui Ndreketi).
The principal business of the day was an exchange of presents. First
of all the teachers and their special followers gave gifts of cloth
and whales’ teeth to the great chief. So the six native ministers and
about sixty teachers advanced, dressed up in many extra yards of native
cloth, beautifully designed, and trailing on the ground in trains many
yards long. Then followed people from other towns, also dressed up. They
danced pretty dances, and all shook off their fine drapery at the feet of
the chief—an example followed by the grave teachers, who made a pretty
speech, formally presenting the _tappa_ to the Roko, and then retreated
much shorn. The cloth made two great heaps, which the chief divided next
morning among his followers. This giving took the whole morning.
[Illustration: A CHIEF’S KITCHEN.
_p. 208._]
After lunch came what I may call the offertory, as every one brought
according to his ability for the furtherance and support of Christian
work. We now found our places set on the other side of the village green;
lest it might seem as if the offerings now to be made were to the chief
instead of the mission. First 1000 women advanced single file, each
bringing a mat, or a bunch of live crabs, or dried fish, or a basket of
yams—one brought a ludicrous roast parrot; then as many men came up,
bringing six or eight large turtle, seven or eight live pigs, fowls,
yams, palm-cloth, &c. One tiny child brought a large cock in his arms.
He was such a jolly little chap—well oiled, with scarlet _sulu_ (kilt)
of turkey-red, and white native cloth, and quaint, partially shaven
head—they shave in such odd patterns, leaving little tufts and curls.
Then followed all the usual very graceful dances, which I have so often
described, and some new ones, in which every dancer carried a dried fish,
let into a piece of a split cocoa-palm leaf, and waved it fan-like,
just to mark them as fishers. Everywhere we note the same wonderful
flexibility and marvellous time kept in most intricate ballet-figures.
But coarse sticks take the place of the old carved clubs, and some
ungraceful traces of British trade appear. Here one man was dressed in a
large union-jack pocket-handkerchief! and a woman wore the foot and stalk
of a broken wine-glass as an ear-ring! The people appear to be very poor,
and less tasteful in making their necklace-garlands and kilts. At sunset
there was a pause, and then Mr Langham gave the multitude what seemed to
be a most impressive little address, and a few minutes later the whole
3000 were kneeling prostrate on the grass. It was a very striking scene,
remembering that these people are only just emerging from heathenism;
but they are so very cordial to the mission, and so anxious to be
taught, it seems hard that there should be such difficulty in getting
native teachers trained, and this is greatly owing to the lack of white
missionaries.
To-night there is a dance by torchlight, which will become fast and
furious when the moon rises. Already the people are having a right merry
time. I have just been out with Mrs Langham for a little turn; but her
husband was unable to come with us, and we did not like to mix much in so
large a crowd, or indeed to be seen there, not knowing whether the dances
might be such as we should seem to sanction. But it is wonderful, when
you come to think of it, that two ladies and a little child should be
able to go about at all, on such a night, among 3000 wild people, as yet
so utterly untaught. But those who did notice us were all most courteous,
and I am glad to have had even a glimpse of this wild weird scene, which,
with its accompaniment of shouts, yells, and measured hand-clapping,
is the most savage thing I have yet witnessed. Now we are back in our
own coral-lime house. Mr Langham has just married a couple, and is now
busy with his teachers. We leave this place to-morrow morning. It is a
most hospitable district, and sufficiently uncivilised even for me! This
morning a horrible old ex-cannibal crept close to Mr Langham, and then,
as if he could not refrain, he put out his hand and stroked him down the
thigh, licking his lips, and exclaiming with delight, “Oh, but you are
nice and fat!”
* * * * *
ON BOARD THE JUBILEE, OFF NEIVAKA POINT, _August 13._
We are lying at anchor here, and the others have gone ashore to hold
service. I would fain go and bathe in the lovely little stream, but
as such a proceeding would divide the attractions, and might diminish
the congregation, I had better have a chat with you instead. We left
Nanduri yesterday morning, after an incredible amount of hand-shaking,
and “love-giving,” as the Christian Fijians say—_Sa loloma_ being their
kindly greeting to us. They also have a graceful form of farewell,
exactly answering to the “A demain,” “Au revoir,” “A rivederla,” or “Auf
Wiedersehen,” of nations nearer home. When we say, _Sa lakki mothe_,
which means “go to sleep,” they reply, _Roa roa_, “to-morrow morning,”
meaning we shall meet again soon. Very pretty is their word for the
twilight, _luma luma_, which just answers to our _gloaming_.
I told you about our last evening at Nanduri.
In the early morning all the mats, cloth, &c., presented to the mission
were brought in and divided. I, as a visitor, was presented with a live
turtle, a whale’s tooth, and four mats, also a basket and some fans from
the chief’s wife. And when the pile of native cloth presented to the
chief had been divided among his followers, I was able to buy some very
beautiful specimens.
Having formally taken leave of the Roko and his family, we embarked,
leaving Mathuata with very pleasant impressions of the hearty genial
kindness of its people. The day was lovely, and we were able to sail all
the way inside the reef, so there was the double advantage of being in
smooth water and seeing the coast to perfection. For the tropics, it is
very barren, _pandanus_ and _noko-noko_ being the principal foliage. At
this season the people in all parts of the isles have an annual burning
of the tall reeds to clear the land for their plantations. The smoky haze
gives a rich lurid colour to the atmosphere, and deepens the blue of the
near mountains, while it blends the distant ranges in soft dreamy lights.
We arrived here at sunset last night. Neivaka Point is a grand rocky
headland, with a very pretty village, on a palm-fringed shore, with a
clear stream, which here flows into the sea. We went ashore for an hour
or so, but as we have to push on early this morning, it was decided that
we must sleep on board. So we all lay on deck in the bright starlight,
and towards morning there was clear moonlight, and then a lovely sunrise.
I see the boat coming off from the shore, so we shall soon be under way.