BÊCHE DE MER ENGLISH
Given a number of white traders, a wide area of land, and scores of
savage languages and dialects, the result will be that the traders will
manufacture a totally new, unscientific, but perfectly adequate,
language. This the traders did when they invented the Chinook lingo for
use over British Columbia, Alaska, and the Northwest Territory. So with
the lingo of the Kroo-boys of Africa, the pigeon English of the Far
East, and the bêche de mer of the westerly portion of the South Seas.
This latter is often called pigeon English, but pigeon English it
certainly is not. To show how totally different it is, mention need be
made only of the fact that the classic piecee of China has no place in
it.
There was once a sea captain who needed a dusky potentate down in his
cabin. The potentate was on deck. The captain’s command to the Chinese
steward was “Hey, boy, you go top-side catchee one piecee king.” Had
the steward been a New Hebridean or a Solomon islander, the command
would have been: “Hey, you fella boy, go look ’m eye belong you along
deck, bring ’m me fella one big fella marster belong black man.”
It was the first white men who ventured through Melanesia after the
early explorers, who developed bêche de mer English—men such as the
bêche de mer fishermen, the sandalwood traders, the pearl hunters, and
the labour recruiters. In the Solomons, for instance, scores of
languages and dialects are spoken. Unhappy the trader who tried to
learn them all; for in the next group to which he might wander he would
find scores of additional tongues. A common language was necessary—a
language so simple that a child could learn it, with a vocabulary as
limited as the intelligence of the savages upon whom it was to be used.
The traders did not reason this out. Bêche de mer English was the
product of conditions and circumstances. Function precedes organ; and
the need for a universal Melanesian lingo preceded bêche de mer
English. Bêche de mer was purely fortuitous, but it was fortuitous in
the deterministic way. Also, from the fact that out of the need the
lingo arose, bêche de mer English is a splendid argument for the
Esperanto enthusiasts.
A limited vocabulary means that each word shall be overworked. Thus,
_fella_, in bêche de mer, means all that _piecee_ does and quite a bit
more, and is used continually in every possible connection. Another
overworked word is _belong_. Nothing stands alone. Everything is
related. The thing desired is indicated by its relationship with other
things. A primitive vocabulary means primitive expression, thus, the
continuance of rain is expressed as _rain he stop_. _Sun he come up_
cannot possibly be misunderstood, while the phrase-structure itself can
be used without mental exertion in ten thousand different ways, as, for
instance, a native who desires to tell you that there are fish in the
water and who says _fish he stop_. It was while trading on Ysabel
island that I learned the excellence of this usage. I wanted two or
three pairs of the large clam-shells (measuring three feet across), but
I did not want the meat inside. Also, I wanted the meat of some of the
smaller clams to make a chowder. My instruction to the natives finally
ripened into the following “You fella bring me fella big fella
clam—kai-kai he no stop, he walk about. You fella bring me fella small
fella clam—kai-kai he stop.”
Kai-kai is the Polynesian for food, meat, eating, and to eat: but it
would be hard to say whether it was introduced into Melanesia by the
sandalwood traders or by the Polynesian westward drift. Walk about is a
quaint phrase. Thus, if one orders a Solomon sailor to put a tackle on
a boom, he will suggest, “That fella boom he walk about too much.” And
if the said sailor asks for shore liberty, he will state that it is his
desire to walk about. Or if said sailor be seasick, he will explain his
condition by stating, “Belly belong me walk about too much.”
Too much, by the way, does not indicate anything excessive. It is
merely the simple superlative. Thus, if a native is asked the distance
to a certain village, his answer will be one of these four: “Close-up”;
“long way little bit”; “long way big bit”; or “long way too much.” Long
way too much does not mean that one cannot walk to the village; it
means that he will have to walk farther than if the village were a long
way big bit.
_Gammon_ is to lie, to exaggerate, to joke. _Mary_ is a woman. Any
woman is a Mary. All women are Marys. Doubtlessly the first dim white
adventurer whimsically called a native woman Mary, and of similar birth
must have been many other words in bêche de mer. The white men were all
seamen, and so capsize and sing out were introduced into the lingo. One
would not tell a Melanesian cook to empty the dish-water, but he would
tell him to capsize it. To sing out is to cry loudly, to call out, or
merely to speak. Sing-sing is a song. The native Christian does not
think of God calling for Adam in the Garden of Eden; in the native’s
mind, God sings out for Adam.
Savvee or catchee are practically the only words which have been
introduced straight from pigeon English. Of course, pickaninny has
happened along, but some of its uses are delicious. Having bought a
fowl from a native in a canoe, the native asked me if I wanted
“Pickaninny stop along him fella.” It was not until he showed me a
handful of hen’s eggs that I understood his meaning. My word, as an
exclamation with a thousand significances, could have arrived from
nowhere else than Old England. A paddle, a sweep, or an oar, is called
washee, and washee is also the verb.
Here is a letter, dictated by one Peter, a native trader at Santa Anna,
and addressed to his employer. Harry, the schooner captain, started to
write the letter, but was stopped by Peter at the end of the second
sentence. Thereafter the letter runs in Peter’s own words, for Peter
was afraid that Harry gammoned too much, and he wanted the straight
story of his needs to go to headquarters.
“Santa Anna
“Trader Peter has worked 12 months for your firm and has not received
any pay yet. He hereby wants £12.” (At this point Peter began
dictation). “Harry he gammon along him all the time too much. I like
him 6 tin biscuit, 4 bag rice, 24 tin bullamacow. Me like him 2 rifle,
me savvee look out along boat, some place me go man he no good, he
_kai-kai_ along me.
“Peter.”
_Bullamacow_ means tinned beef. This word was corrupted from the
English language by the Samoans, and from them learned by the traders,
who carried it along with them into Melanesia. Captain Cook and the
other early navigators made a practice of introducing seeds, plants,
and domestic animals amongst the natives. It was at Samoa that one such
navigator landed a bull and a cow. “This is a bull and cow,” said he to
the Samoans. They thought he was giving the name of the breed, and from
that day to this, beef on the hoof and beef in the tin is called
_bullamacow_.
A Solomon islander cannot say _fence_, so, in bêche de mer, it becomes
_fennis_; store is _sittore_, and box is _bokkis_. Just now the fashion
in chests, which are known as boxes, is to have a bell-arrangement on
the lock so that the box cannot be opened without sounding an alarm. A
box so equipped is not spoken of as a mere box, but as the _bokkis
belong bell_.
_Fright_ is the bêche de mer for fear. If a native appears timid and
one asks him the cause, he is liable to hear in reply: “Me fright along
you too much.” Or the native may be _fright_ along storm, or wild bush,
or haunted places. _Cross_ covers every form of anger. A man may be
cross at one when he is feeling only petulant; or he may be cross when
he is seeking to chop off your head and make a stew out of you. A
recruit, after having toiled three years on a plantation, was returned
to his own village on Malaita. He was clad in all kinds of gay and
sportive garments. On his head was a top-hat. He possessed a trade-box
full of calico, beads, porpoise-teeth, and tobacco. Hardly was the
anchor down, when the villagers were on board. The recruit looked
anxiously for his own relatives, but none was to be seen. One of the
natives took the pipe out of his mouth. Another confiscated the strings
of beads from around his neck. A third relieved him of his gaudy
loin-cloth, and a fourth tried on the top-hat and omitted to return it.
Finally, one of them took his trade-box, which represented three years’
toil, and dropped it into a canoe alongside. “That fella belong you?”
the captain asked the recruit, referring to the thief. “No belong me,”
was the answer. “Then why in Jericho do you let him take the box?” the
captain demanded indignantly. Quoth the recruit, “Me speak along him,
say bokkis he stop, that fella he cross along me”—which was the
recruit’s way of saying that the other man would murder him. God’s
wrath, when He sent the Flood, was merely a case of being cross along
mankind.
What name? is the great interrogation of bêche de mer. It all depends
on how it is uttered. It may mean: What is your business? What do you
mean by this outrageous conduct? What do you want? What is the thing
you are after? You had best watch out; I demand an explanation; and a
few hundred other things. Call a native out of his house in the middle
of the night, and he is likely to demand, “What name you sing out along
me?”
Imagine the predicament of the Germans on the plantations of
Bougainville Island, who are compelled to learn bêche de mer English in
order to handle the native labourers. It is to them an unscientific
polyglot, and there are no text-books by which to study it. It is a
source of unholy delight to the other white planters and traders to
hear the German wrestling stolidly with the circumlocutions and
short-cuts of a language that has no grammar and no dictionary.
Some years ago large numbers of Solomon islanders were recruited to
labour on the sugar plantations of Queensland. A missionary urged one
of the labourers, who was a convert, to get up and preach a sermon to a
shipload of Solomon islanders who had just arrived. He chose for his
subject the Fall of Man, and the address he gave became a classic in
all Australasia. It proceeded somewhat in the following manner:
“Altogether you boy belong Solomons you no savvee white man. Me fella
me savvee him. Me fella me savvee talk along white man.
“Before long time altogether no place he stop. God big fella marster
belong white man, him fella He make ’m altogether. God big fella
marster belong white man, He make ’m big fella garden. He good fella
too much. Along garden plenty yam he stop, plenty cocoanut, plenty
taro, plenty _kumara_ (sweet potatoes), altogether good fella kai-kai
too much.
“Bimeby God big fella marster belong white man He make ’m one fella man
and put ’m along garden belong Him. He call ’m this fella man Adam. He
name belong him. He put him this fella man Adam along garden, and He
speak, ‘This fella garden he belong you.’ And He look ’m this fella
Adam he walk about too much. Him fella Adam all the same sick; he no
savvee kai-kai; he walk about all the time. And God He no savvee. God
big fella marster belong white man, He scratch ’m head belong Him. God
say: ‘What name? Me no savvee what name this fella Adam he want.’
“Bimeby God He scratch ’m head belong Him too much, and speak: ‘Me
fella me savvee, him fella Adam him want ’m Mary.’ So He make Adam he
go asleep, He take one fella bone belong him, and He make ’m one fella
Mary along bone. He call him this fella Mary, Eve. He give ’m this
fella Eve along Adam, and He speak along him fella Adam: ‘Close up
altogether along this fella garden belong you two fella. One fella tree
he tambo (taboo) along you altogether. This fella tree belong apple.’
“So Adam Eve two fella stop along garden, and they two fella have ’m
good time too much. Bimeby, one day, Eve she come along Adam, and she
speak, ‘More good you me two fella we eat ’m this fella apple.’ Adam he
speak, ‘No,’ and Eve she speak, ‘What name you no like ’m me?’ And Adam
he speak, ‘Me like ’m you too much, but me fright along God.’ And Eve
she speak, ‘Gammon! What name? God He no savvee look along us two fella
all ’m time. God big fella marster, He gammon along you.’ But Adam he
speak, ‘No.’ But Eve she talk, talk, talk, allee time—allee same Mary
she talk along boy along Queensland and make ’m trouble along boy. And
bimeby Adam he tired too much, and he speak, ‘All right.’ So these two
fella they go eat ’m. When they finish eat ’m, my word, they fright
like hell, and they go hide along scrub.
“And God He come walk about along garden, and He sing out, ‘Adam!’ Adam
he no speak. He too much fright. My word! And God He sing out, ‘Adam!’
And Adam he speak, ‘You call ’m me?’ God He speak, ‘Me call ’m you too
much.’ Adam he speak, ‘Me sleep strong fella too much.’ And God He
speak, ‘You been eat ’m this fella apple.’ Adam he speak, ‘No, me no
been eat ’m.’ God He speak. ‘What name you gammon along me? You been
eat ’m.’ And Adam he speak, ‘Yes, me been eat ’m.’
“And God big fella marster He cross along Adam Eve two fella too much,
and He speak, ‘You two fella finish along me altogether. You go catch
’m bokkis (box) belong you, and get to hell along scrub.’
“So Adam Eve these two fella go along scrub. And God He make ’m one big
fennis (fence) all around garden and He put ’m one fella marster belong
God along fennis. And He give this fella marster belong God one big
fella musket, and He speak, ‘S’pose you look ’m these two fella Adam
Eve, you shoot ’m plenty too much.’”