RECRUITING FOR NATIVES
A few days later the English steamer came, bringing my luggage but
no hope of improvement in my dull existence. A French survey party
arrived too, and set to work, but as they had not enough boys with
them, I could not join them. I spent my days as well as I could,
collected a few zoological specimens, and read Mr. Ch.'s large stock
of French novels until I felt quite silly.
At last an occasion offered to see primitive natives. George, the
son of a neighbour, had agreed to go recruiting for Mr. Ch. As I
have said before, providing sufficient labour is one of the most
important problems to the planter in the New Hebrides. Formerly there
were professional recruiters who went slave-hunting as they would have
followed any other occupation, and sold the natives to the planters at
a fair profit. In their schooners they hung about the shore, filled
the natives with liquor and kidnapped them, or simply drove them on
board wholesale, with the help of armed Loyalty boys. Their methods
were as various as they were cruel, murder was a daily occurrence, and,
of course, the recruiters were hated by the natives, who attacked and
killed them whenever they got a chance. The better class of planters
would not countenance this mode of procedure, and the natives are
now experienced enough not to enlist for work under a master they
do not know. Also the English Government keeps a strict watch on
the recruiting, so that the professional recruiter is dying out,
and every planter has to go in search of hands for himself. But
while the English Government keeps a sharp eye on these matters,
the French Government is as lenient in this as in the question of
the sale of alcohol, so that frequent kidnapping and many cruelties
occur in the northern part of the group, and slavery still exists. I
shall relate a few recruiting stories later on: some general remarks
on the subject may not be amiss here.
In years past the natives crowded the recruiting schooners by hundreds,
driven by the greed for European luxuries, by desire for change,
and inexperience; to-day this is the case in but very few and savage
districts. Generally the natives have some idea of what they may
expect; moreover, by trading with coprah they can buy all they need
and want. They enlist nowadays from quite different motives. With
young people it is the desire to travel and to "see the world,"
and to escape the strict village laws that govern them, especially
in sexual matters, and to get rid of the supervision of the whole
tribe. Sometimes, but only in islands poor in cocoa-nut trees, it is
the desire to earn money to buy a woman, a very expensive article at
present. Then many seek refuge in the plantations from persecution of
all sorts, from revenge, or punishment for some misdeed at home. Some
are lovers who have run away from their tribe to escape the rage of an
injured husband. Thus recruiting directly favours the general anarchy
and immorality, and indirectly as well, since the recruiters do their
best to create as much trouble as possible in the villages, knowing
it will be to their advantage. If they hear of a feud raging between
two tribes, they collect at the shore and try to pick up fugitives;
if there is no war, they do their best to occasion one, by intrigue,
alcohol, or agents provocateurs. They intoxicate men and women,
and make them enlist in that condition; young men are shown pretty
women, and promised all the joys of Paradise in the plantations. If
these tricks fail, the recruiters simply kidnap men and women while
bathing. This may suffice to show that, as a rule, they do not use
fair means to find hands, and it is hardly surprising that where
they have been they leave behind them wrecked families, unhappiness,
enmity, murder and a deep hatred of the white man in general as the
cause of all this misery. This recruiting is not only immoral in the
highest degree, but also very harmful to the race, and it is to-day
one of the principal reasons for its decay.
Those planters who from principle or from fear of the law do not
resort to such means generally have a special recruiting district,
where they are well known, and where the natives know the treatment
they are likely to get on the plantation, and feel sure they will not
be cheated, and will be taken back to their homes in due time. These
planters, I am happy to say, find hands enough, as a rule, while the
natives take care not to go to a French plantation if they can help
it. The system of recruiting is very simple. The cutter anchors at some
distance offshore, and a dynamite cartridge is exploded to announce
her arrival; some time afterwards one of the whale-boats goes ashore,
all the crew armed to the teeth, while the other boat lies a short
distance off, to watch the natives, and to cover the retreat of those
in the first boat in case of attack. The planter, as a rule, stays
on board his cutter. These warlike practices are really unnecessary
in many places, but as one never knows what indiscretions the last
recruiter may have committed, and as the natives consider all whites
as belonging to one organization, it is the part of prudence to follow
this old recruiting rule.
I will not pretend to say that the natives will never attack
without provocation. Even Cook, who certainly was both careful
and just, was treacherously attacked in Erromanga, for the
Melanesian is bloodthirsty, especially when he thinks himself the
stronger. But to-day it may be stated as a certainty that no attack
on a recruiting-ship or on any white man occurs without some past
brutality on the part of a European to account for it. As one of the
Governments does nothing to abolish kidnapping, and as the plantations
go to ruin for want of labour, it would be to the interest both of the
settlers and of the natives to abolish the present recruiting system
entirely, and to introduce a conscription for work in its place, so
that each male would have to work for a term of years on a plantation
for adequate wages and good treatment. This would be of advantage to
the islanders even more than to the planters. It would create order,
and would employ the natives in useful work for the development of
their own country.
It will appear from all this that recruiting is still a somewhat
dangerous undertaking, especially on the north-west coast of Malekula,
the home of the most primitive and savage tribes of all the group.
George, our captain, was a strange fellow, about seventeen years of
age: he might just as well have been forty. Pale, with small grey eyes
and a suspicious look, a long hooked nose, and narrow, yet hanging
lips, he walked with bent back and crooked knees, always bare-footed,
in blue dungaree trousers, green shirt and an old weather-beaten
hat. He hardly ever spoke; when he did, it was very suddenly, very
fast and very low, so that no one could understand him except his
boys, who evidently knew instinctively what he meant. The natives
are very clever in these matters. He was brave, an excellent sailor
for his age, and he knew the channels and all the anchorages. His
boat may have been 6 or 7 metres long and 3 metres wide; she was
cutter-rigged, and was probably very suitable for a trip of a few
days, but quite insufficient for a cruise of several weeks, such as
we were planning. The deck was full of cases of provisions, so that
only a little space was clear for us at the stern. The cabin was
about 2 metres long, 1 1/2 metre wide, and 1 1/2 metre high, and
was crammed with stuff--tinned meats, cloths, guns, trading goods,
etc. One person could wriggle in it, crawling on hands and knees,
but two had to wind round each other in impossible positions, and
it was quite unthinkable that both should spend the night below. But
with the happy carelessness and impatience of a long-delayed start,
we did not think of the hardships of the future, and in fair weather,
when the stay on deck in the brisk breeze was extremely pleasant,
as on that first morning, existence on board seemed very bearable;
but when it rained, and it rained very often and very hard, it was
exceptionally disagreeable.
Mr. George took no interest in such details. Although he could have
improved matters without much trouble, he was too lazy to take the
trouble. The sun- and rain-sail was fixed so low that one could not
stand upright, and anyone who has experienced this for some time
knows how irritating it is. For food George did not seem to care at
all. Not only did he lack the sense of taste, but he seemed to have
an unhuman stomach, for he ate everything, at any time, and in any
condition; raw or cooked, digestible or not, he swallowed it silently
and greedily, and thought it quite unnecessary when I wanted the boys
to cook some rice for me, or to wash a plate. The tea was generally
made with brackish water which was perfectly sickening. George
had always just eaten when I announced that dinner was ready, and
for answer he generally wrapped himself in his blankets and fell
asleep. The consequence was that each of us lived his own life, and
the companionship which might have made up for many insufficiencies
on board was lacking entirely.
It was the first sunny day after many rainy ones when the current
carried us through the channel. When we got on too slowly the oars
had to help. After several hours we arrived in the open, and a fresh
breeze carried us quickly alongside the small islands of Aore, Tutuba
and Malo. Blue, white-crested waves lifted us up so high that we could
look far over the foaming sea, and again we sank down in a valley,
out of which we could only see the nearest waves rolling threateningly
towards us. Behind us the little dinghy shot down the swells, gliding
on the water like a duck. In the late afternoon we approached the north
point of Malekula, and followed the west coast southward, towards the
country of the "Big Nambas"--our destination. Contrasting with other
islands of the archipelago, Malekula does not seem densely covered
with vegetation at this point. We do not see much of the impenetrable
bush, but rather a scanty growth of grass on the coral reefs, a few
shrubs and she-oaks, then a narrow belt of forest covering the steep
cliffs and sides of the hills, on whose backs we find extensive areas
covered with reed-grass. Even a luxuriant forest does not look gay
on a dull day, and this barren landscape looked most inhospitable in
the grey mist of the afternoon. We slowly followed a coast of ragged
coral patches, alternating with light sand beaches. Towards nightfall
we anchored near a stony shore, flanked by two high cliffs, in about
10 fathoms of the most transparent water. We could see in the depths
the irregular shapes of the rocks, separated by white sand, and the
soft mysterious colours in which the living coral shines like a giant
carpet. The sea was quiet as a pond, yet we were on the shores of
that endless ocean that reaches westward to the Torres Straits.
Torn clouds floated across the hills towards the north-west, the stars
shone dull, and it was very lonely and oppressively silent, nowhere
was there a trace of life, human or animal. Lying on deck, I listened
to the sound of the surf breaking in the different little bays near
and far, in a monotonous measure, soft and yet irresistible. It is
the voice of the sea in its cleansing process, the continual grinding
and casting out of all impurities, the eternal war against the land
and its products, and the final destruction of the earth itself.
The district of the Big Nambas, to whose shores we had come, takes
its name from the size of a certain article of dress, the "Nambas,"
which partly replaces our trousers, and is worn in different forms
over the greater part of the archipelago, but nowhere of such size
as here. It is such an odd object that it may well give its name to
the country. Big Nambas is still the least known part of the islands,
and hardly any white has ever set foot in the interior. Unlike those
of other districts, the natives here have preserved their old habits
and strict organization, and this is evidently the reason why they
have not degenerated and decayed. The old chiefs are still as powerful
as ever, and preserve peace and order, while they themselves do as
they please. Big Nambas has had but little contact with the whites,
especially the recruiters, so that the population is not demoralized,
nor the chief's power undermined. Of course it is to the chief's
interest to have as strong a tribe as possible, and they reserve to
themselves the right of killing offenders, and take all revenge in
their own hands. They watch the women and prevent child-murder and such
things, and although their reign is one of terror, their influence,
as a whole, on the race is not bad, because they suppress many vices
that break out as soon as they slacken their severity. The chiefs
in Big Nambas seem to have felt this, and systematically opposed
the intercourse with whites. But this district is just where the
best workmen come from, and the population is densest, and that is
why the recruiters have tried again and again of late years to get
hold of Big Nambas, but with little success, for so far only few
men have enlisted. One of them was on our cutter, and had to serve
as interpreter. The other four of the five boys were from Malekula,
a little farther south. Our man from Big Nambas was known on the
plantation as Bourbaki, and had enlisted two years ago. Before that
he had been professional murderer and provider of human flesh to the
great chief. Now he was a useful and quiet foreman on the plantation,
always cheerful, very intelligent, strong, brutal, with small, shrewd
eyes and a big mouth, apparently quite happy in civilization, and
devoted to George. He was one of the few natives who openly admitted
his liking for human flesh, and rapturously described its incomparable
tenderness, whiteness and delicacy. A year ago, when visiting his
village, he had been inconsolable because he had come a day late for a
cannibal feast, and had blamed his father bitterly for not having saved
a piece for him. Aside from this ghoulish propensity, Bourbaki was
a thoroughly nice fellow, obliging, reliable and as happy as a child
at the prospect of seeing his father again. We expected good service
and help in recruiting from him, and promised him ample head-money.
Bourbaki had run away without the permission of his chief, who was
furious at the loss of his best man, and had given orders to kill the
recruiter, a brother-in-law of George. Some natives had ambushed and
shot at them while entering the whale-boat; the white had received
several wounds, and a native woman had been killed. The boat pulled
away rapidly. Bourbaki laughed, and, indeed, by this time the little
incident was quite forgotten, as its only victim had been a woman.
The morning was damp and dull. The hills came down to the sea in slopes
of grey-green, the shore was a soft brown, and the rocks lay in dark
patches on the beach, separated from the greyish-green of the sea
by the white line of the breakers. The hollow sound of the dynamite
explosions glided along the slopes and was swallowed in distant space.
A few hours later, thinking the natives might be coming, we got
our arms ready: each of us had a revolver and a repeating rifle,
the boys had old Sniders. The cutter lay about 200 metres off-shore,
and we could see everything that was going on on the beach. Behind
the flat, stony shore the forest-covered hills rose in a steep cliff
to a tableland about 100 metres high. On the water we were in perfect
safety, for the villages lie far inland, and the Big Nambas are no
sailors, hate the sea and possess no canoes. They only come to the
beach occasionally, to get a few crabs and shell-fish, yet each tribe
has its own place on the shore, where no stranger is admitted.
We took Bourbaki ashore; he was very anxious to go home, and promptly
disappeared in the bush, his Snider on his shoulder. We then returned
to the cutter and waited. It is quite useless to be in a hurry when
recruiting, but one certainly needs a supply of patience, for the
natives have no idea of the value of time, and cannot understand the
rush which our civilization has created.
Late in the afternoon a few naked figures appeared on the beach. One
of them signalled with a branch, and soon others followed, till
about fifty men had assembled, and in the background, half-hidden by
shrubs, stood half a dozen women. We entered the whale-boats, two
boys and a white man in each, and slowly approached the shore. All
the natives carried their rifles in their right hands and yams in
their left, making signs to show that they wished to trade. We gave
them to understand that they must first put down their muskets,
and when they hesitated we cocked our rifles and waited. Some of
them went back to the forest and laid down their guns, while the
others sat down at a distance and watched. We promptly put down our
rifles, approached and showed our trade-goods--tobacco, matches,
clay pipes and calico. Hesitating, suspicious, yet tempted, they
crowded round the boat and offered their yams, excitedly shouting
and gesticulating, talking and laughing. They had quite enormous
yams, which they traded for one or two sticks of tobacco or as many
pipes. Matches and calico were not much in demand. Our visitors
were mostly well-built, medium-sized men of every age, and looked
very savage and dangerous. They were nearly naked, but for a belt of
bark around their waists, about 20 cm. wide, which they wore wound
several times around their bodies, so that it stood out like a thick
ring. Over this they had bound narrow ribbons of braided fibres,
dyed in red patterns, the ends of the ribbons falling down in large
tassels. Under this belt is stuck the end of the enormous nambas,
also consisting of red grass fibres. Added to this scanty dress are
small ornaments, tortoise-shell ear-rings, bamboo combs, bracelets
embroidered with rings of shell and cocoa-nut, necklaces, and thin
bands bound under the knees and over the ankles.
The beautiful, lithe, supple bodies support a head covered with long,
curly hair, and the face is framed by a long and fairly well-kept
beard. The eyes roll unsteadily, and their dark and penetrating look
is in no wise softened by the brown colouring of the scela. The nose
is only slightly concave, the sides are large and thick, and their
width is increased by a bamboo or stone cylinder stuck through the
septum. Both nose and eyes are overhung by a thick torus. The upper lip
is generally short and rarely covers the mouth, which is exceptionally
large and wide, and displays a set of teeth of remarkable strength
and perfection. The whole body is covered with a thick layer of greasy
soot. Such is the appearance of the modern man-eater.
Just at first we did not feel any too comfortable or anxious to go
ashore, and we watched our neighbours very carefully. They, however,
were hardly less frightened and suspicious; but after a while,
through the excitement of trading, they became more confident, forgot
their suspicions and bargained noisily, as happy as a crowd of boys;
still, any violent movement on our part startled them. For instance,
several of them started to run for the woods when I hastily grabbed
a pipe that a roll of the boat had set slipping off the seat.
After having filled the boats to the brim with yams, and the first
eagerness of bartering over, we ventured ashore. A suspicious crowd
stood around us and watched every movement. We first showed them our
weapons, and a violent smacking of the lips and long-drawn whistles,
or a grunting "Whau!" bespoke a gratifying degree of admiration
and wonder. The longer the cartridges and the larger the bullets,
the more they impressed them, and our revolvers were glanced at with
contempt and a shrug of the shoulders, expressing infinite disdain,
until each of us shot a few rounds. Then they winced, started to
run away, came back and laughed boisterously over their own fright;
but after that they had more respect for our "little guns."
Soon they became more daring, came closer and began to feel us, first
touching us lightly with the finger-tips, then with their hands. They
wanted to look at and handle everything, cartridge-belts, pipes,
hats and clothes. When all these had been examined, they investigated
our persons, and to me, at least, not being used to this, it was
most disagreeable. I did not mind when they tucked up our sleeves and
trousers and compared the whiteness and softness of our skin with their
own dark hide, nor when they softly and caressingly stroked the soft
skin on the inner side of our arms and legs, vigorously smacking their
lips the while; but when they began to feel the tenderness and probably
the delicacy of our muscles, and tried to estimate our fitness for a
royal repast, muttering deep grunts, constantly smacking their lips,
and evidently highly satisfied with the result of their investigation,
I did not enjoy the situation any more; still less when I saw an
ugly-looking fellow trembling violently from greedy desire, rolling
his eyes in wild exultation and performing an anticipatory cannibal
dinner-dance. We gradually began to shake off this wearisomely intimate
crowd; the fact that there were two of us, and that I was not alone
in this situation was very comforting. However, in the course of the
next few years I became accustomed to this treatment, though I never
again met it in such crudeness.
We had slowly approached the forest and could get a few glimpses of the
women, who had kept quite in the background and hid still more when
we came near. They had braided aprons around their waists and rolled
mats on their heads. Nearly all of them carried babies on their hips,
and they looked fairly healthy, although the children were full of
sores. Evidently the men did not like our looking at the ladies; they
pushed us back and drove the women away. We returned to the boats,
and the natives retired too, howling, shrieking and laughing. Towards
evening another crowd arrived, and the performance was repeated in
every detail. Happy over the bartered goods, they began to dance,
first decorating themselves with tall branches stuck in the back of
their belts. They jumped from one foot to the other, sometimes turning
round, and singing in a rough, deep monotone. We withdrew to the boats,
and they dispersed on the shore, lighted fires and roasted the yams
they had left.
Far away across the sea there was lightning, the surf boomed more
heavily than by day, the cutter rolled more violently and restlessly
and the whaleboat scraped against her sides, while the wind roared
through the forest gullies and thunder threatened behind the hills. We
felt lonely in the thick darkness, with the tempest approaching
steadily, afloat on a tiny shell, alone against the fury of the
elements. The lamp was blown out, and we lay on deck listening to the
storm, until a heavy squall drove us below, to spend the night in a
stuffy atmosphere, in uncomfortable positions, amid wild dreams. Next
morning there were again about twenty men on the shore, and again the
same performances were gone through. Evidently the people, influenced
by Bourbaki, who was still in the village, were more confident, and
left their weapons behind of their own accord. They came to trade,
and when their provisions of yam were exhausted, most of them left;
only a few, mostly young fellows, wanted to stay, but some older
men stayed with them, so as to prevent them from going on board
and enlisting. Evidently the young men were attracted by all our
wonderful treasures, and would have liked to see the country where
all these things came from. They imagined the plantations must be very
beautiful places, while the old men had vague notions to the contrary,
and were afraid of losing their young braves.
During a lull in the proceedings we climbed the narrow, steep and
slippery path up to the tableland in order to get an idea of the
country behind the hills. Half-way up we met two old men carrying
yam down to the beach. They were terrified at sight of us, began to
tremble, stopped and spoke to us excitedly. We immediately laid down
our rifles, and signed to them to approach, but they suddenly dropped
their loads, ran off and disappeared in the bush. They evidently feared
we had come to kidnap them, and we decided it was wiser to return to
the beach, so as not to irritate the people. Shortly afterwards another
crowd of natives came along the beach carrying yam. They approached
with extreme care, ready to fight or fly, but they were less afraid of
us than of the natives, for whom that part of the beach was reserved,
and with whom we had been trading. They were enemies of the newcomers,
who knew that they were outside their own territory and might expect
an attack any moment. Squatting down near us, they anxiously watched
the forest, ever ready to jump up. One of them, who spoke a little
biche la mar, came up to me and asked me to anchor that night near
their beach, and buy yams from them, which we promised to do. At a
sound in the forest they jumped up and ran away. George, wishing to
talk more with them, took his rifle and ran after them, but they had
already retreated behind some boulders, and were waving their rifles
and signalling him to stay where he was. They thought we were in a
plot with other natives, and had ambushed them. To such a degree do
these people live in constant fear, and thus arise misunderstandings
which end in death, unless the whites are very prudent and quiet. Many
a recruiter in our case would have welcomed this apparent provocation
to shoot at the natives from a safe distance with his superior rifle.
All day it rained in heavy squalls, coming from over the hills;
everything was damp, the night was dark and still and we sighed in
our narrow cell of a cabin. Next morning Bourbaki came back with a
new crowd of natives, who again felt and investigated, happily, also,
admired us. So vain is human-kind that even the admiration of cannibals
is agreeable. I let some of them try my shot-gun, and everyone wanted
to attempt the feat, although they were all badly frightened. They held
the gun at arm's length, turned their faces away and shot at random;
it was clear that very few knew how to shoot, and that their Sniders
could be of use only at short range. This is confirmed by the fact
that all their murders are done point-blank.
Bourbaki brought news that in a few days there was to be a great
sacrificial feast in the village, and that, everybody being busy
preparing for it, we had no chance of recruiting, neither could we
see the great chief, he being shut up in his house, invisible to
everybody except to a little boy, his servant. We landed a goat for
Bourbaki's father; the innocent animal caused terrible fright and
great admiration. All the men retreated behind trunks or rocks and
no one dared touch the strange creature. Bourbaki was very proud of
himself for knowing goats, and fastened the poor little thing to a
tree in the shade. He then coaxed three old men on board. Clumsily
they entered the whale-boats, and even on board the cutter they
squatted anxiously down and dared hardly move for fear the ship might
capsize or they might slip into the water, of which they were quite
afraid. They could hardly speak, and stared at everything, wide-eyed
and open-mouthed. They forgot their fears, however, in delight over
our possessions. A saucepan proved a joy; the boards and planks of
the ship were touched and admired amid much smacking of the lips; a
devout "Whau!" was elicited by the sight of the cabin, which seemed a
fairy palace to them. Smaller things they approved of by whistling;
in general they behaved very politely. If they did not understand
the use of a thing, they shrugged their shoulders with a grimace
of contempt. A mirror was useless to them at first; after a while
they learned to see; they were frightened, and at last they roared
with laughter, put out their tongues, admired their sooty faces and
began to pull out their bristles, for they all wore their upper lips
shaved. Naturally, they confused right and left, and became entirely
bewildered. A watch did not impress them; the ticking seemed mysterious
and not quite innocent, and they put the instrument away at a safe
distance. They asked to see some money, but were much disappointed,
having imagined it would look bigger and more imposing. They preferred
a little slip of paper, which they carefully hid in their belts. Our
stock of cartridges impressed them deeply, and there was no end of
whistling and grunting. Sugar and tea were objects of suspicion. They
thought them poison, and took some along, probably to experiment on
a good friend or a woman. Matches were stuck into the hair, the beard
or the perforated ears. Pictures were quite incomprehensible.
After an hour they left, less frightened than before, but still very
glad to leave all the mysterious and uncanny things behind. Bourbaki
made fun of their innocence, and thought himself very civilized,
but he himself was dreadfully afraid of my camera: "White man he
savee too much."
The weather cleared towards evening. Some natives stayed on the shore
all night, lighted fires and sang songs in anticipation of the coming
dance. Our boys mimicked them, laughed at them and felt very superior,
though we whites failed to see much difference, and, as a matter of
fact, a short time after having returned home these boys can hardly
be told from ordinary bushmen. The shrieks of the savages pierced the
velvet of the night like daggers, but by and by they quieted down,
and we heard nothing more but the rhythmic rise and fall of the surf.
In the silver light of the rising moon the boats rolled gently behind
the ship like dark spots, and light clouds glided westward across
the stars, eternally rising behind the black cliffs and disappearing
in the universal dimness. We were asleep on deck, when suddenly a
violent shower woke us up and banished us into that terrible cabin.
No natives came next day; they were all busy preparing the feast. We
had nothing to do but to loaf on the beach or on board, and smoke,
as we had no fishing-tackle and no animals to shoot. The grey sky,
the vague light, the thin rain, were depressing, and all sorts
of useless thoughts came to us. We noticed the hardships of our
existence on board, felt that we were wasting time, grew irritable and
dissatisfied. If only my companion had been less sulky! But with him
there could be no pleasant chat, no cosy evening hour over a cup of
tea and a pipe; and I would almost have preferred being alone to this
solitude a deux. I sat on deck and listened to the breakers. Often
they sounded like a rushing express train and awakened reminiscences
of travel and movement. The cool wind blew softly from afar, and
I could understand for the first time that longing that asks the
winds for news of home and friends. I gave myself up wholly to this
vague dreaming, call it home-sickness, or what you will, it enlivened
the oppressive colourlessness of the days and the loneliness of the
nights. As usual, a heavy shower came, luckily, perhaps, to interrupt
all softer thoughts.
Then followed a few clear days, which changed our mood entirely. The
cutter rolled confidingly in the morning breeze, and the sun glowed
warm and golden. In picturesque cascades the green forest seemed
to rush down the slopes to the bright coral beach, on which the sea
broke playfully. Once in a while a bird called far off in the depths
of the woods. It was delicious to lie on the warm beach and be dried
and roasted by the sun, to think of nothing in particular, but just
to exist. Two wild pigs came to the beach in the evening to dig for
yam that the natives had buried there; a chase, though unsuccessful,
gave excitement and movement. We could venture far inland now without
fear, for the natives were all away at the feast. Brilliant sunsets
closed the days in royal splendour. Behind a heavy cloud-bank which
hid the sun, he seemed to melt in the sea and to form one golden
element. Out of the cloud five yellow rays shot across the steel-blue
sky, so that it looked like one of those old-fashioned engravings
of God behind a cloud. When everything had melted into one gorgeous
fire, and we were still helpless before all that glory, the colours
faded away to the most delicate combinations of half-tones; soon the
stars came out glittering on the deep sky, first of all the Southern
Cross. Halley's comet was still faintly visible.
In the morning the sky was cloudless, and changed from one lovely
colour to the other, until the sun rose to give it its bright blue
and paint the shore in every tint. Then every stone at the bottom of
the sea was visible, and all the marvellous coral formations, with
their weird shapes and fiery colours, glowed in rose and violet and
pure golden yellow. Above lay big sea-stars, and large fish in bright
hues floated between the cliffs in soft, easy movements, while bright
blue little ones shot hither and thither like mad.
Bourbaki arrived with his younger brother, a neat and gentle-looking
boy. The feast was to begin that evening, and I asked Bourbaki if
they had plenty of pigs to eat. "Oh no," he said; "but that is of
no importance: we have a man to eat! Yesterday we killed him in
the bush, and to-day we will eat him." He said this with the most
innocent expression, as if he were talking about the weather. I had to
force myself not to draw away from him, and looked somewhat anxiously
into his face; but Bourbaki stared quietly into the distance, as if
dreaming of the past excitements and the coming delights; then he
picked up a cocoa-nut and tore the husk off with his strong teeth. It
made me shudder to watch his brutish movements, but he was perfectly
happy that morning, willing and obedient. At noon he went away to
his horrid feast, and for two days we saw nobody.
We passed the time as usual; the weather was rainy again, and
everything seemed grey,--the sky, the sea and the shore, and our
mood. One is so dependent on surroundings.
On the third day Bourbaki came back, a little tired, but evidently
satisfied. Some of his friends accompanied him, and he brought word
that the chief had given permission for a few boys to enlist, but
that we would have to wait about ten days until he could come to
the shore himself. Not wishing to spend the ten days there, doing
absolutely nothing, we decided to go farther south, to Tesbel Bay,
and try our luck at recruiting there, as we had another boy, Macao,
from that district. George gave leave to Bourbaki, who had been
somewhat savage these last days, to stay at home till our return, and
he seemed delighted to have a holiday. We were all the more surprised
when, just before we weighed anchor, Bourbaki came back, shaking hands
without a word. We were quite touched by this remarkable sign of his
affection, pardoned his many objectionable ways, and never thought
that perhaps he might have ample reason not to feel altogether safe
and comfortable at home.
The wind being contrary, we had to tack about all night long without
advancing. Squalls rushed over the water, and then, again, the breeze
died down completely, only black, jagged clouds drifted westward
across the sky, and here and there a few stars were visible. The
cutter's deck was crowded with stuff, and there seemed less room for
us than ever, except in the hateful cabin. The boys sang monotonously
"for wind," quite convinced that the next breeze would be due to their
efforts. A fat old man sang all night long in falsetto in three notes;
it was unbearably silly and irritating, yet one could hardly stop the
poor devil and rob him of his only pleasure in that dark night. We
felt damp, restless and sleepless, and tried in vain to find some
comfort. Next evening we reached the entrance of Tesbel Bay, and
the wind having died down, we had to work our way in with the oars,
a slow and hard task. Bourbaki yelled and pulled at the oars with
all his might, encouraging the others. These are the joys of sailing.
Tesbel Bay is framed on two sides by high cliffs. Big boulders
lie in picturesque confusion where the surf foams white against
the narrow beach. Wherever there is a foot of ground, luxurious
vegetation thrives. Ahead of us lies a level valley that stretches
far inland to the foot of a high mountain, whose head is lost in grey
clouds. A little creek runs into the bay through high reed-grass,
behind a sandbank. Just before setting, the sun shone through the
clouds and smiled on the lovely, peaceful landscape, seeming to
promise us a pleasant stay. The smoke of many village fires rose
out of the bush at a distance. Two ragged natives were loafing on
the beach, and I engaged one of them for the next day, to guide me
to some villages. Bourbaki and Macao marched gaily off, as they were
to spend the night in Macao's village.
Next morning, while being pulled ashore for my excursion inland, I
saw Macao on the beach, crying, waving and behaving like a madman. He
called out that Bourbaki was dead, and that we must come to the
village. I took him into the boat and we returned to the cutter. Macao
was trembling all over, uttering wild curses, sighing and sobbing like
a child. Between the fingers of his left hand he frantically grasped
his cartridges, and nervously kept hold of his old rifle. We could
not get much out of him; all we could make out was that Bourbaki had
been shot towards morning and that he himself had run away. We guessed
that Bourbaki must have committed some misdemeanour; as there was a
possibility of his still being alive, we decided to go and look for
him; for satisfaction it was idle to hope.
According to Macao the village was quite near, so we took our rifles,
armed the boys, and in ten minutes we were ashore. The youngest,
a fourteen-year-old boy, was left in the whale-boat, so as to be
ready to pick us up in case of need. His elder brother, a tall,
stout fellow, also preferred to stay in the boat; we left him behind,
and this left five of us for the expedition. Macao showed us the
way, and as we followed him we watched right and left for a possible
ambush. It was a disagreeable moment when we dived into the thicket,
where we expected to be attacked any moment, and I could hardly blame
another fat boy for dropping behind, too, to "watch the shore," as
he said. Not wishing to lose any time, we let him go, for we were
anxious to be in the village before the natives should have time to
rally and prepare for resistance.
The path was miserable--slippery slopes, wildly knotted roots, stones,
creeks and high reeds. We were kept quite busy enough watching our
path, and were not careful at all about watching the bush; but we
were confident that the natives, being very poor shots, would betray
their presence by a random shot. We were exposed, of course, to shots
from close quarters alongside the path, but we trusted to Macao's
sharp eyes to detect a hidden enemy. After an hour's brisk walk,
we asked Macao whether the village was still far off; every time
we asked, his answer was the same: "Bim by you me catch him," or,
"Him he close up." However, after an hour and a half, we began to
feel worried. We had no idea whether we would find a peaceful village
or an armed tribe, and in the latter case a retreat would doubtless
have been fatal, owing to the long distance we would have had to go
in the forest, where the white man is always at a disadvantage. But
we had undertaken the adventure, and we had to see it through.
After two hours we unexpectedly came upon a village. A dozen men
and a few women were squatting about, evidently expecting some
event. The presence of the women was a sign that the people were
peacefully inclined. An old man, a relative of Macao's, joined us,
and a short walk through a gully brought us quite suddenly into a
village square. About thirty men were awaiting us, armed with rifles
and clubs, silent and shy. Macao spoke to them, whereupon they laid
down their rifles and led us to a hut, where we found Bourbaki,
lying on his back, dead. He had been sitting in the house when some
one shot him from behind; he had jumped up and tried to fly, but had
broken down and fallen where he was then lying. He must have died
almost at once, as the bullet had torn a great hole in his body. His
rifle and cartridges were missing, that was all.
The villagers stood around us, talking excitedly; we could not
understand them, but they were evidently not hostile, and we told
them to bury Bourbaki. They began at once, digging a hole in the
soft earth with pointed sticks. We then asked for the rifle, the
cartridges and the murderer, and were informed that two men had done
the killing. After some deliberation a number of men walked off, one of
them a venerable old man, armed after the old fashion with a bow and
a handful of poisoned arrows, which he handled with deliberate care;
he also carried a club in a sling over his shoulder. Of all those
strong men, this old one seemed to me the most dangerous but also
the most beautiful and the most genuine. After a while they returned,
and two other men slunk in and stood apart.
The natives seemed undecided what to do, and squatted about, talking
among themselves, until at last one of them pulled me by the sleeve
and led us towards the two newcomers. We understood that they were
the murderers, and each of us took hold of one of them. They made no
resistance, but general excitement arose in the crowd, all the other
natives shouting and gesticulating, even threatening each other with
their rifles. They were split in two parties,--one that wanted to give
up the murderers, and their relatives, who wanted to keep them. We told
them that the affair would be settled if they gave up the murderers;
if not, the man-of-war would come and punish the whole village. As my
prisoner tried to get loose, I bound him, and while I was busy with
this I heard a shot. Seeing that all the men had their rifles ready,
I expected the fight to begin, but George told me his prisoner had
escaped and he had shot after him. The man had profited by George's
indecision to run away.
This actual outbreak of the hostilities excited the people so that
we thought it best to retire, taking our single prisoner with us. A
few of the natives followed us, and when we left the village the
relatives of the murderer broke out in violent wailing and weeping,
thinking, as did the prisoner, Belni, himself, that we were going to
eat him up, after having tortured him to death. Belni trembled all
over, was very gentle and inclined to weep like a punished child, but
quite resigned and not even offering any resistance. He only asked
Macao anxiously what we were going to do with him. Macao, furious
at the death of his comrade, for whom he seemed to have felt real
affection, put him in mortal fear, and was quite determined to avenge
his murdered friend. We shut Belni up in the hold of the cutter and
told the natives that they would have to hand over Bourbaki's rifle
and cartridges, and pay us two tusked pigs by noon of the next day.
On this occasion we learned the reason for the murder: Belni's
brother had had an intrigue with the wife of the chief, and had been
condemned by the latter to pay a few pigs. Being too poor to do this,
he decided to pay his debt in an old-fashioned way by killing a man,
and Bourbaki was unlucky enough to arrive just at the right time,
and being a man from a distant district, there was no revenge to be
feared. Belni, therefore, chose him as his victim. The two brothers
chatted all night with him and Macao, and asked to see Bourbaki's
rifle, which he carelessly handed to them. When, towards morning,
Macao left them for a few moments, they profited by the opportunity
to shoot Bourbaki from behind, and to run away. Macao, rushing back,
found his friend dead, and fled to the shore. By this deed the wrong
to the chief was supposed to be made good--a very peculiar practice in
native justice. It may be a remnant of old head-hunting traditions,
inasmuch as Belni's brother would have given the dead man's head to
the chief in payment, this being even more valuable than pigs.
The first excitement over, our boys were seized by fear, even Macao
and the other one who had accompanied us. Although they were in
perfect safety on board the cutter they feared all sorts of revenge
from Belni's relatives,--for instance, that they might cause a
storm and wreck the cutter. We laughed at them, but they would not
be cheered up, and, after all, Macao's horrible dread that his old
father was surely being eaten up by this time in the village was not
quite groundless. We were not in the brightest of humours ourselves,
as this event had considerably lessened our chances of recruiting
at Big Nambas; the chief made us responsible for Bourbaki's death,
and asked an indemnity which we could hardly pay, except with the
tusked pigs we demanded here.
We could not stay longer in Tesbel Bay, as our boys were too much
frightened, and the natives might turn against us at any moment. We
could hardly get the boys to go ashore for water and firewood, for
fear of an ambush. In the evening we fetched Belni out of the hold. He
was still doleful and ready to cry, but seemed unconscious of any
fault; he had killed a man, but that was rather an honourable act
than a crime, and he only seemed to regret that it had turned out so
unsatisfactorily. He did not seem to have much appetite, but swallowed
his yam mechanically in great lumps. The boys shunned him visibly,
all but Macao, who squatted down close before him, and gave him food
with wild hatred in his eyes, and muttering awful threats. Icy-cold,
cruel, with compressed lips and poisonous looks like a serpent's,
he hissed his curses and tortured Belni, who excused himself clumsily
and shyly, playing with the yam and looking from one dark corner to
the other, like a boy being scolded. The scene was so gruesome that
I had Belni shut up again, and we watched all night, for Macao was
determined to take the murderer's life. It was a dry, moonlit night;
one of the boys was writhing with a pain in his stomach, and we could
do nothing to help him, so they were all convinced it was caused by
Belni's relatives, and wanted to sail immediately. A warm breeze had
driven mosquitoes to the cutter; it was a most unpleasant night.
Next noon the natives appeared, about twenty strong, but without
the second murderer. They said the shot had hit him, and that he
had died during the night. This might have been true, and as we
could do nothing against the village anyway, we let the matter drop,
especially as they had brought us Bourbaki's rifle and two tusked
pigs. The chief said he hoped we were satisfied with him, and would
not trouble anyone but the murderers.
We returned to the cutter, and the pigs were put in the hold,
where they seem to have kept good company with Belni, after a little
preliminary squealing and shrieking. Then we sailed northward, with a
breeze that carried us in four hours over the same distance for which
we had taken twenty-four last time. It was a bitterly cold night. We
decided to return home, fearing the boys would murder Belni in an
unwatched moment, as they had asked several times, when the sea was
high, whether we would not throw Belni into the water now. The passage
to Santo was very rough. The waves thundered against the little old
cutter, and we had a nasty tide-rip. We were quite soaked, and looking
in through the portholes, we could see everything floating about in
the cabin--blankets, saucepans, tins and pistols. We did not mind much,
as we hoped to be at home by evening.
Rest, cleanliness and a little comfort were very tempting after a
fortnight in the filthy narrowness of the little craft. We had no
reason to be vain of our success; but such trips are part of the game,
and we planned a second visit to Big Nambas to reconcile the chief. We
were glad to greet the cloud-hung coast of Santo, and soon entered
the Segond Channel. There we discovered that the old boat had leaked
to such an extent that we could have kept afloat for only a few hours
longer, and had every reason to be glad the voyage was at an end. It
was just as well that we had not noticed the leak during the passage.
We brought Belni ashore; the thin, flabby fellow was a poor
compensation for vigorous Bourbaki. He was set to work on the
plantation, and as the Government was never informed of the affair,
he is probably there to this day, and will stay until he dies.