SANTO
There are hardly any natives left in the south of the Bay of
St. Philip and St. James, generally called Big Bay. Only to the
north of Talamacco there are a few villages, in which the remnants
of a once numerous population, mostly converts of the Presbyterian
mission, have collected. It is a very mixed crowd, without other
organization than that which the mission has created, and that is
not much. There are a few chiefs, but they have even less authority
than elsewhere, and the feeling of solidarity is lacking entirely,
so that I have hardly ever found a colony where there was so much
intrigue, immorality and quarrelling. A few years ago the population
had been kept in order by a Presbyterian missionary of the stern and
cruel type; but he had been recalled, and his place was taken by a man
quite unable to cope with the lawlessness of the natives, so that every
vice developed freely, and murders were more frequent than in heathen
districts. Matters were not improved by the antagonism between the
Roman Catholic and Presbyterian missions and the traders; each worked
against the others, offering the natives the best of opportunities to
fish in troubled waters. The result of all this was a rapid decrease
of the population and frequent artificial sterility. The primitive
population has disappeared completely in some places, and is only to
be found in any numbers far inland among the western mountains. The
situation is a little better in the north, where we find a number of
flourishing villages along the coast around Cape Cumberland.
The nearest village to Talamacco was Tapapa. Sanitary conditions
there were most disheartening, as at least half of the inhabitants
were leprous, and most of them suffered from tuberculosis or
elephantiasis. I saw hardly any children, so that the village will
shortly disappear, like so many others.
Native customs along the coast are much the same as at Port Olry, but
less primitive, and the houses are better built. There is wood-carving,
or was. I found the doorposts of old gamals beautifully carved, and
plates prettily decorated; but these were all antiques, and nothing
of the kind is made at the present day.
The race, however, is quite different from that around Port Olry. There
are two distinct types: one, Melanesian, dark, tall or short, thin,
curly-haired, with a broad nose and a brutal expression; and one
that shows distinct traces of Polynesian blood in its finer face,
a larger body, which is sometimes fat, light skin and frequently
straight hair. Just where this Polynesian element comes from it
is hard to say, but the islands in general are very favourable to
race-mixture along the coasts. As I said before, the Melanesian type
shows two distinct varieties, a tall dark one, and a short light
one. At first I did not realize the significance of the latter until
I became aware of the existence of a negroid element, of which I saw
clear traces. The two varieties, however, are much intermingled, and
the resulting blends have mixed with the Polynesian-Melanesian type,
so that the number of types is most confusing, and it will be hard
to determine the properties of the original one.
Finding little of interest in the immediate surroundings of
Talamacco, I determined to make an excursion into the interior of the
island. Mr. F. put his foreman, or moli, at my disposal, and he engaged
my bearers, made himself useful during the trip in superintending
the boys, and proved valuable in every way, as he was never afraid,
and was known to nearly all the inland chiefs.
After a rainy spell of six weeks we had a clear day at last; and
although the weather could not be taken into consideration when making
my plans, still, the bright sunshine created that happy and expectant
sensation which belongs to the beginning of a journey. The monthly
steamer had arrived the day before, had shipped a little coprah, and
brought some provisions for the trader and myself. I had completed
my preparations, engaged my boys and was ready to start.
In the white glare of a damp morning we pulled from the western shore
of Big Bay to the mouth of the Jordan River. The boat was cramped
and overloaded, and we were all glad to jump ashore after a row of
several hours. The boys carried the luggage ashore and pulled the
boat up into the bush with much noise and laughter. Then we settled
down in the shade for our first meal, cooking being an occupation of
which the boys are surprisingly fond. Their rations are rice and tea,
with a tin of meat for every four. This discussed, we packed up,
and began our march inland.
The road leads through a thin bush, over rough coral boulders and
gravel deposited by the river. We leave the Jordan to our right,
and march south-east. After about an hour we come to a swampy
plain, covered with tall reed-grass. Grassy plains are an unusual
sight in Santo; the wide expanse of yellowish green is surrounded
by dark walls of she-oak, in the branches of which hang thousands
of flying-foxes. At a dirty pond we fill our kettles with greenish
water, for our night camp will be on the mountain slope ahead of us,
far from any spring. Even the moli has to carry a load of water, as I
can hardly ask the boys to take any more. He feels rather humiliated,
as a moli usually carries nothing but a gun, but he is good enough to
see the necessity of the case, and condescends to carry a small kettle.
Straight ahead are the high coral plateaux across which our road
lies. While we tackle the ascent, the sky has become overcast, the
gay aspect of the landscape has changed to sad loneliness and a heavy
shower soaks us to the skin. The walk through the jungle is trying,
and even the moli loses the way now and again. Towards nightfall
we enter a high forest with but little underbrush, and work our way
slowly up a steep and slippery slope to an overhanging coral rock,
where we decide to camp. We have lost our way, but as night is closing
in fast, we cannot venture any farther.
The loads are thrown to the ground in disorder, and the boys drop
down comfortably; strong language on my part is needed before they
make up their minds to pile up the luggage, collect wood and begin
to cook. Meanwhile my own servant has prepared my bed and dried my
clothes. Soon it is quite dark, the boys gather round the fires, and do
not dare to go into the yawning darkness any more, for fear of ghosts.
The rain has ceased, and the soft damp night air hangs in the
trees. The firelight is absorbed by the darkness, and only the nearest
surroundings shine in its red glare; the boys are stretched out in
queer attitudes round the fire on the hard rocks. Soon I turn out the
lamp and lie listening to the night, where vague life and movement
creeps through the trunks. Sometimes a breath of wind shivers through
the trees, shaking heavy drops from the leaves. A wild pig grunts,
moths and insects circle round the fires, and thousands of mosquitoes
hum about my net and sing me to sleep. Once in a while I am roused
by the breaking of a rotten tree, or a mournful cry from one of the
dreaming boys; or one of them wakes up, stirs the fire, turns over and
snores on. Long before daybreak a glorious concert of birds welcomes
the new day. Half asleep, I watch the light creep across the sky,
while the bush is still in utter darkness; suddenly, like a bugle-call,
the first sunbeams strike the trees and it is broad day.
Chilly and stiff, the boys get up and crowd round the fires. As
we have no more water there is no tea, and breakfast is reduced to
dry biscuits. The moli has found the lost trail by this time, and we
continue the ascent. On the plateau we again strike nearly impenetrable
bush, and lose the trail again, so that after a few hours' hard work
with the knives we have to retrace our steps for quite a distance. It
is a monotonous climb, varied only by an occasional shot at a wild
pig and fair sport with pigeons. Happily for the thirsty boys, we
strike a group of bamboos, which yield plenty of water. All that
is needed is to cut the joint of the stems, and out of each section
flows a pint of clear water, which the boys collect by holding their
huge mouths under the opening. Their clothes are soaked, but their
thirst is satisfied and our kettles filled for the midday meal.
Presently we pass a native "camp" under an overhanging rock: it
consists of a few parallel sticks, on which the native sleeps as well
as any European on a spring-mattress, and a hollow in the ground,
with a number of cooking-stones.
After a stiff climb we stop for our meal, then follow a path
which gradually widens and improves, a sign that we are nearing a
village. Towards evening we come to some gardens, where the natives
plant their yam and taro. At the entrance of the village I make my
boys close up ranks; although the natives are not supposed to be
hostile, my people show signs of uneasiness, keeping close together
and carrying the few weapons we have very conspicuously.
We cross the village square to the gamal, a simple place, as they
all are, with a door about a yard from the ground, in order to keep
out the pigs which roam all over the village. In line with the front
of the house is a row of tall bamboo posts, wound with vines; their
hollow interior is filled with yam and taro, the remains of a great
feast. The village seems quite deserted, and we peep cautiously
into the interior of the gamal, where, after a while, we discern a
man, lying on the damp and dirty ground, who stares at us in silent
fright. He gets up and comes slowly out, and we can see that he has
lost half of one foot from leprosy. From him the moli learns that
the two chiefs are away at a great "sing-sing," and the rest of the
men in the fields or in their wives' houses. There is nothing for us
to do but sit down and wait, and be sniffed at by pigs, barked at by
dogs and annoyed by fowls. The moli beats vigorously on one of the
wooden drums that lie in the mud in front of the house. He has his
own signal, which most of the natives know, so that all the country
round is soon informed of his arrival.
One by one the men arrive, strolling towards the gamal as if
unconscious of our presence; some of them greet one or the other
of my boys whom they have met when visiting at the shore. Nearly
all of them are sick with leprosy or elephantiasis or tuberculosis,
and after the long rainy period they all have colds and coughs and
suffer from rheumatism; altogether they present a sad picture of
degeneration and misery, and there are few healthy men to be seen.
My luggage is taken into the gamal, and I order the boys to buy and
prepare food, whereupon the natives hurry away and fetch a quantity of
supplies: pigs, fowls, yam, taro, of which I buy a large stock, paying
in matches and tobacco. There are also eggs, which, I am assured,
are delicious; but this is according to native taste, which likes eggs
best when half hatched. While the boys are cooking, I spend the time
in measuring the villagers. At first they are afraid of the shiny,
pointed instruments, but the tobacco they receive, after submitting
to the operation, dispels their fears. The crowd sits round us on the
ground, increasing the uneasiness of my victims by sarcastic remarks.
Meanwhile, the women have arrived, and crouch in two groups at the
end of the square, which they are forbidden to enter. There are
about twenty of them, not many for nearly fifty men, but I see only
three or four babies, and many faded figures and old-looking girls
of coarse and virile shape, the consequence of premature abuse and
artificial sterility. But they chat away quite cheerfully, giggle,
wonder, clap their hands, and laugh, taking hold of each other,
and rocking to and fro.
At last the two chiefs arrive, surprisingly tall and well-built men,
with long beards carefully groomed, and big mops of hair. Like all the
men, they are dressed in a piece of calico that hangs down in front,
and a branch of croton behind. They have big bracelets, and wear
the curved tusks of pigs on their wrists. There is just time before
nightfall to take their measures and photographs, then I retire into
the gamal for my supper, during which I am closely observed by the
entire male population. They make remarks about the spoons and the
Worcester sauce, and when I put sugar into my tea, they whisper to each
other, "Salt!" which idea is almost enough to spoil one's appetite,
only the delicious roast sucking-pig is too tempting.
My toilet for the night is watched with the same attention; then, while
I am still reading on my bed, the men seek their couches in the long,
low house. They stir up all the fires, which smoke terribly, then they
lie down on their bamboo beds, my boys among them, and talk and talk
till they fall asleep,--a houseful of leprous and consumptive men,
who cough and groan all night.
In front of me, near the entrance, is the chiefs place. He spends
a long time in preparing his kava, and drinks it noisily. Kava is a
root which is ground with a piece of sharp coral; the fibres are then
mixed with water, which is contained in a long bamboo, and mashed
to a soft pulp; the liquid is then squeezed out, strained through a
piece of cocoa-nut bark into a cocoa-nut bowl and drunk. The liquid
has a muddy, thick appearance, tastes like soapy water, stings like
peppermint and acts as a sleeping-draught. In Santo only chiefs are
allowed to drink kava.
At first, innumerable dogs disturbed my sleep, and towards morning it
grew very cold. When I came out of the hut, the morning sun was just
getting the better of the mist, and spreading a cheery light over the
square, which had looked dismal enough under a grey, rainy sky. I made
all the women gather on the outskirts of the square to be measured
and photographed. They were very bashful, and I almost pitied them,
for the whole male population sat around making cruel remarks about
them; indeed, if it had not been for the chiefs explicit orders, they
would all have run away. They were not a very pleasant spectacle, on
the whole. I was struck by the tired, suffering expression of even the
young girls, a hopeless and uninterested look, in contradiction with
their lively behaviour when unobserved. For they are natural and happy
only when among themselves, and in the presence of the men they feel
that they are under the eye of their master, often a brutal master,
whose property they are. Probably they are hardly conscious of this,
and take their position and destiny as a matter of course; but they
are constrained in the presence of their owners, knowing that at any
moment they may be displeased or angry, for any reason or for none,
and may ill-treat or even kill them. Aside from these considerations
their frightened awkwardness was extremely funny, especially when
posing before the camera. Some could not stand straight, others
twisted their arms and legs into impossible positions. The idea of
a profile view seemed particularly strange to them, and they always
presented either their back or their front view. The poor things got
more and more nervous, the men roared, I was desperate,--altogether
it was rather unsatisfactory.
I was in need of more bearers to carry the provisions I had bought,
and the chiefs were quite willing to supply them; but their orders
had absolutely no effect on the men, who were too lazy, and I should
have been in an awkward position had not one of the chiefs hit on
the expedient of employing his women. They obeyed without a moment's
hesitation; each took a heavy load of yam, all but the favourite wife,
the only pretty one of the number; her load was small, but she had
to clear the trail, walking at the head of the procession.
The women led the way, chatting and giggling, patient and steady
as mules, and as sure-footed and supple. Nothing stops them; with a
heavy load on their heads they walk over fallen trunks, wade through
ditches, twist through vines, putting out a hand every now and then to
feel whether the bunch of leaves at their back is in place. They were
certainly no beauties, but there was a charm in their light, soft step,
in the swaying of their hips, in the dainty poise of their slim ankles
and feet, and the softness and harmony of all their movements. And
the light playing on their dark, velvety, shining bodies increased
this charm, until one almost forgot the many defects, the dirt, the
sores, the disease. This pleasant walk in the cool, dewy forest,
under the bright leaves, did not last long, and after two hours'
tramp we reached our destination.
At the edge of the square the women sat down beside their loads,
and were soon joined by the women of the village. Our hostesses were
at once informed of every detail of our outfit, our food and our
doings, and several dozen pairs of big dark eyes followed our every
movement. The women were all quite sure that I was a great doctor and
magician, and altogether a dangerous man, and this belief was not at
all favourable to my purposes.
We men soon withdrew to the gamal, where the men likewise had to be
informed of everything relating to our doings and character. The gamal
was low and dirty, and the state of health of the inhabitants still
worse than in the first village, but at least there were a few more
babies than elsewhere. The chief suffered from a horrible boil in
his loin, which he poulticed with chewed leaves, and the odour was
so unbearable that I had to leave the house and sit down outside,
where I was surrounded by many lepers, without toes or even feet,
a very dismal sight.
I now paid my carriers the wages agreed upon, but they claimed that I
ought to pay the men extra, although their services had been included
in the price. I took this for one of the tricks by which the natives
try to get the better of a good-natured foreigner, and refused flatly,
whereupon the whole crowd sat down in front of the house and waited
in defiant silence. I left them there for half an hour, during which
they whispered and deliberated in rather an uncomfortable way. I
finally told them that I would not pay any more, and that they had
better go away at once. The interpreter said they were waiting for
the chiefs to get through with something they had to talk over, and
they stayed on a while longer. My refusal may have been a mistake,
and there may really have been a misunderstanding, at any rate,
I had to suffer for my unyielding way, inasmuch as the behaviour of
our hosts immediately changed from talkative hospitality and childish
curiosity to dull silence and suspicious reticence. The people sat
around us, sullen and silent, and would not help us in any way,
refused to bring firewood or show us the water-hole, and seemed most
anxious to get rid of us. Under these circumstances it was useless
to try to do any of my regular work, and I had to spend an idle
and unpleasant afternoon. At last I induced a young fellow to show
me the way to a high plateau near by, from which I had a beautiful
view across trees to the east coast of the island, with the sea in
a blue mist far away. As my guide, consumptive like all the others,
was quite out of breath with our short walk, I soon had to return,
and I paid him well. This immediately changed the attitude of all
the rest. Their sullenness disappeared, they came closer, began to
talk, and at last we spent the afternoon in comparative friendship,
and I could attend to my business.
But the consequences of my short visit to the gamal became very
noticeable. In my hat I found a flourishing colony of horrid bug-like
insects; my pockets were alive, my camera was full of them, they
had crawled into my shoes, my books, my luggage, they were crawling,
flying, dancing everywhere. Perfectly disgusted, I threw off all my
clothes, and had my boys shake and clean out every piece. For a week
I had to have everything cleaned at least once a day, and even then I
found the loathsome creatures in every fold, under straps, in pouches.
On that afternoon I had a great success as an artist. My drawings
of pigs, trees and men went the rounds and were quite immoderately
admired, and preserved as we would a sketch of Holbein's. These
drawings have to be done as simply as possible and fairly large, else
the natives do not understand them. They consider every line essential,
and do not understand shadows or any impressionistic treatment. We must
remember that in our civilized art we work with many symbols, some
of which have but a vague resemblance to the object they represent,
whose meaning we know, while the savage does not. This was the reason
why I had often no success at all with what I considered masterpieces,
while the natives went into raptures over drawings I thought utter
failures. At any rate, they made me quite a popular person.
The sick chief complained to me that a late wife of his had been
poisoned, and as he took me for a great "witch-doctor," he asked me
to find out the murderer. To the native, sickness or death is not
natural, but always the consequence of witchcraft, either on the part
of enemies or spirits. The terribly high death-rate in the last years
makes it seem all the more probable that mysterious influences are
at work, and the native suspects enemies everywhere, whom he tries
to render harmless by killing them. This leads to endless murders
and vendettas, which decimate the population nearly as much as the
diseases do. The natives know probably something about poisons,
but they are always poisons that have to be mixed with food, and
this is not an easy thing to do, as every native prepares his food
himself. Most of the dreaded poisons are therefore simply charms,
stones or other objects, which would be quite harmless in themselves,
but become capable of killing by the mere terror they inspire in the
victim. If the belief in these charms could be destroyed, a great deal
of the so-called poisoning would cease, and it may be a good policy to
deny the existence of poison, even at the risk of letting a murderer
go unpunished. I therefore felt justified in playing a little comedy,
all the more, as I was sure that the woman had died of consumption,
and I promised the chief my assistance for the next morning.
I had my bed made in the open air; even the boys would not enter the
dirty house any more, and we slept well under the open sky, in spite
of the pigs that grunted around us and the dew that fell like rain.
Next day the chief called all the men together; he was convinced
that I could see through every one of them and tell who had done any
wrong. So he made them all sit round me, and I looked very solemnly at
each through the finder of my camera, the chief watching carefully to
see that I did not omit any one. The men felt uneasy, but did not quite
know what to make of the whole performance. I naturally could not find
anything wrong, and told the chief so, but he was not satisfied, and
shook his head doubtfully. Then I talked to him seriously and tried
to convince him that everyone had to die once, and that sickness was
something natural, especially considering the filth in which they
lived; but I do not think my speech made much impression.
The men had now become very suspicious, the women were away, and I
had great trouble in finding bearers and guides to the next village. A
pleasant march brought us to this settlement, whose houses were close
together in a big clearing. We were received very coolly by the chief
and a few men. My bearers and guides would not be induced to accompany
us farther, so that I had to ask for boys here; but the chief said he
had not a single able-bodied man, which I felt to be mere excuse. I
also noticed that my own boys were very dissatisfied and sullen,
and that something was in the wind. In order to raise their spirits,
and not to leave our yam provisions behind, I had them cook the midday
meal, but the sullen, threatening atmosphere remained the same. When
it was time to continue our march, I heard them grumble and complain
about their loads, and it all looked like rising mutiny. I was ahead
with the chief, who had consented to show us the way, when the moli
came after me and informed me that the boys were unwilling to go on,
that they were afraid to go farther inland and were ready to throw
their loads away. Later on I learned that two of the boys had tried to
bribe some natives to show them the road back to the coast and leave
me alone with the moli. I assembled the boys and made them a speech,
saying that their loads were not too heavy nor the marches too long,
that they were all free to return home, but would have to take the
consequences, and that I and the moli would go on without them. If
they liked, I said, they could throw away their tinned meats, I did not
care, and the two bottles of grog were not meant for me, and we could
easily spare those. I grasped the bottles and offered to smash them,
but that was too much for the boys; half crying, they begged me not to
do that: the bottles were not too heavy, and they would gladly carry
them as far as I liked. Hesitatingly I allowed myself to be persuaded,
and kindly desisted from the work of destruction. I had won, but I had
lost confidence in my boys, and was careful not to put their patience
and fidelity to any more tests, conscious as I was of how much depended
on their goodwill. After this episode they accomplished a long and
tiresome march, up and down through thick bush on slippery clay,
quite willingly. In the evening we reached a few huts in a clearing
at a height of about 1200 feet, and went into camp for the night.
While cooking, we heard dismal howling and weeping from a neighbouring
hut; it was a woman mourning her husband, who had been dead ninety-nine
days. To-morrow, on the hundredth day, there was to be a death-feast,
to which all the neighbours were invited. Of course, this man, too,
had been poisoned.
The fire of revolt was smouldering in my boys. They sat round
the camp-fire in groups, whispering and plotting, grumbling and
undecided; but I felt safe enough, as they were evidently divided
into two parties, one faithful and the other mutinous, and the former
seemed rather more influential. They proved their goodwill to me by
delightful servility, and took excellent care of me.
Next morning we were wakened by the howls of the unhappy widow,
and soon the guests appeared, some from far off, and all bringing
contributions to the feast. They killed several pigs, and while
the men cut them up in a manner rather more clever than appetizing,
the women prepared the fires by lighting large quantities of wood
to heat the cooking-stones. This lasted several hours. Meanwhile,
every person present received his share of a half-rotten smoked pig,
of the freshly killed pigs, yam, taro and sweet potatoes. The women
took the entrails of the pigs, squeezed them out, rolled them up in
banana leaves, and made them ready for cooking. When the fire was
burnt down they took out half of the stones with forks of split
bamboo, and then piled up the food in the hole, first the fruit,
then the meat, so that the grease should run over the fruit; then the
hole was covered with banana leaves, the hot stones piled on top and
covered with more leaves. Food cooked in this way is done in three or
four hours, so that the "stoves" are usually opened in the afternoon,
and enormous quantities eaten on the spot, while the rest is put in
baskets to take home. The amount a native can eat at one sitting
is tremendous, and one can actually watch their stomachs swell as
the meal proceeds. Violent indigestion is generally the consequence
of such a feast. On the whole, no one seemed to be thinking much of
the dead man in whose honour it was given,--such things are said to
happen in civilized countries as well.
I stayed in this village for another day, and many chiefs from the
neighbourhood came to consult me, always complaining of the one
thing--poison. Each secretly accused the others, each wanted me to
try my glass on all the others. I did not like my reputation of being
a magician at all, as it made the people still more suspicious of me
and more afraid of my instruments and my camera.
These so-called chiefs were rather more intelligent than the
average. Most of them had worked for whites at one time, and learned to
speak pidgin-English; but they were as superstitious as anyone else,
and certainly greater rogues. They were naked and dirty, but some had
retained some traces of civilization, one, for instance, always took
off his old felt hat very politely, and made quite a civilized bow;
he must have been in Noumea in former days.
There was no leprosy or elephantiasis here, but a great deal of
tuberculosis, and very few children, and nearly all the men complained
that their women were unwilling to have any more children.
From the next village I had a glimpse of the wild mountains of western
Santo. I decided to spend the night here, left the boys behind, and
went southward with the moli and a few natives. This was evidently
the region where the volcanic and coral formations meet, for the
character of the landscape suddenly changed, and instead of flat
plateaux we found a wild, irregular country, with lofty hills and
deep, narrow gullies. Walking became dangerous, though the path was
fair. On top of a hill I found an apparently abandoned village, from
which I could overlook all central Santo. To the west were the rugged,
dark-looking mountains round Santo Peak, with white clouds floating
on the summit, and a confusion of deep blue valleys and steep peaks;
northward lay the wild Jordan valley, and far away I could distinguish
the silver mirror of Big Bay. All around us rose the silent, stern,
lonely forest--imposing, unapproachable.
On our way back to camp we rested beside a fresh creek which gaily
squeezed its way through rocks and rich vegetation. A little tea
and a tin of sardines were all the menu, but we enjoyed a delightful
bath in the cool water, and had as good a wash as we could without
soap. It was a great luxury after the hot days in the coral country
without any water. While our things were drying in the bright sun,
we lay in the moss near the rushing stream, and it was like a summer
day at home in the mountains. The water sounded familiar, the soft,
cool breeze was the same, and while I lay watching the white clouds
through the bright foliage I dreamt of home. At home I had dreamt of
travel, and thus one wish follows the other and the soul is preserved
from lazy content. I almost fancied I heard the sound of bells and the
far-away lowing of cattle. And again the reality seemed like a dream
when I roused myself and saw the dark figures crouching on the rocks,
with their frizzy mops of hair and their Sniders on their knees.
The village turned out to be too dirty to spend the night in, and I
decided to go to one which seemed quite near, just across a gully. Had
I known what an undertaking it would be, I would not have started,
for the ravine was very deep and the sides unpleasantly steep;
but my boys managed the descent, over rocks and fallen trees, with
their usual cleverness. At the bottom we were rewarded by a beautiful
sight. Beneath us, in a narrow cut it had eaten through the rock,
roared a river, foaming out of the depths of the dark wilderness. It
was like one of the celebrated gorges in the Alps, only the tropical
vegetation which hung in marvellous richness and variety over the
abyss gave a fairy-like aspect to the scene. The boys did not seem
to appreciate it in the least, and prepared, sighing, for the steep
ascent. A simple bridge led across the gully; it was made of a few
trees, and even provided with a railing in the shape of a vine. The
existence of this bridge surprised me very much; for, considering
the thoughtless egotism with which the natives pass through life, I
had thought them incapable of any work of public utility. They rarely
think of repairing a road or cutting a vine, nor do they remove trees
that may have fallen across the path, but always rely on others to
see to it.
The second village was not much cleaner than the first, but we camped
there, and the next day I went with the moli and a few of my boys to
the western mountains. The natives warned us, saying that the people
were "no good" and would kill us. But, for one thing, I could not
see that they themselves were particularly "good," and, for another,
I knew that all natives consider other tribes especially dangerous;
so I stuck to my intention, only we hung all our available weapons
about us, leaving the rest of the boys defenceless.
This turned out one of the most strenuous days I ever had in the
islands, as the road--and what a road!--constantly led up and down
the steepest slopes. It seemed to me we were climbing perpendicular
mountains all day long, and I had many an opportunity of admiring the
agility of my companions. I am a fair walker myself, but I had to crawl
on my hands and knees in many spots where they jumped from a stone to
a root, taking firm hold with their toes, never using their hands,
never slipping, and always with a loaded and cocked rifle on their
shoulders. My boys from the coast, good pedestrians though they were,
always remained far behind.
First we reached well-tended taro fields, then a few scattered
huts. The natives received us very kindly, and more men kept joining
us, till we formed a big, jolly crowd. The population here seemed very
primitive, and evidently had but little contact with the shore, but
they were clean and comparatively healthy and flourishing, and I found
them rather more frank, childlike and confiding than others I had seen.
We roasted our yam, and while we were enjoying our frugal but
delicious meal, I witnessed rather an amusing episode. A bushman,
painted black for mourning, suddenly called to one of my boys, and
wanted to shake hands with him. My boy, a respectable "schoolboy,"
was visibly annoyed by the idea of having anything to do with a naked
"man-bush," and behaved with icy reserve; but he could not long resist
the rural cordiality of the other, and presently resigned himself to
his fate, and made friends. It turned out that they had once worked
together in Vila, and one had become an elegant young swell, while
the other returned to simple country life.
On the way back we rested by the river-bank, amusing ourselves by
shooting pigeons with pistols and guns, feeling quite peaceful and
happy. But the sound of our shots had an unexpected effect in the
village where I had left the rest of my boys. All the natives jumped
to their feet, shouting, "Did we not tell you that they would kill
your master? Now you have heard them; he is dead, and now we will
see what you have in your boxes and divide it among ourselves."
They approached my boys threateningly, whereupon they all ran away,
with the exception of the ringleader of the mutineers of the last
few days, who sat down on the box containing the trading-stock and
said they had better go and see whether I was really dead before
plundering my luggage. The situation must have grown rather strained,
until some one had the good sense to go and look out for us, whereupon
he saw us sitting peacefully near the river below. This calmed the
natives, they withdrew, much disappointed, and my boys returned and
prepared everything for my arrival with remarkable zeal. I found
dry clothes ready, and tea boiling, and was quite touched by so much
thoughtfulness. I was not told of the day's occurrence till after my
return to the coast, and perhaps it was just as well.
By this time I had seen a good part of south-east Santo, and I was
eager to visit the south-west, with Santo Peak. But without guides
and with marked symptoms of home-sickness on the part of my boys,
I decided it would not be wise to attempt it. The news that we were
going to start for home revived the boys at once. With enormous
alacrity they packed up next day and raced homeward with astonishing
speed and endurance; I had had to drag them along before, now I could
hardly keep up with them. In two days we had reached the plain of
the Jordan, had a delightful swim and a jolly last night in camp,
free from pigs, dogs, fowls, fleas and bugs,--but not from mosquitoes!
The last day we strolled in and along the river, through the
forest swarming with wild pigs and pigeons, while a huge colony of
flying-foxes circled in the air, forming an actual cloud, and then
we came to the shore, with the wide expanse of Big Bay peaceful in
the evening sun. A painful walk on the sharp pebbles of the beach
brought us home towards nightfall.