CLIMBING SANTO PEAK
Some days later I left Talamacco for Wora, near Cape Cumberland,
a small station of Mr. D.'s, Mr. F.'s neighbour. What struck me most
there were the wide taro fields, artificially irrigated. The system
of irrigation must date from some earlier time, for it is difficult to
believe that the population of the present day, devoid as they are of
enterprise, should have laid it out, although they are glad enough to
use it. The method employed is this: Across one of the many streams
a dam of great boulders is laid, so that about the same amount of
water is constantly kept running into a channel. These channels are
often very long, they skirt steep slopes and are generally cut into
the earth, sometimes into the rock; sometimes a little aqueduct is
built of planks, mud and earth, supported by bamboo and other poles
that stand in the valley. In the fields the channel usually divides
into several streams, and runs through all the flat beds, laid out in
steps, in which the taro has only to be lightly stuck to bring forth
fruit in about ten months. Taro only grows in very swampy ground,
some varieties only under water, so that it cannot be grown in the
coral region, where there is plenty of rain, but no running water. In
these districts yam is the principal food, while we find taro in the
mountains of primary rock. Both are similar in taste to the potato.
My next journey led me across the peninsula to the west coast of
Santo. As usual, it was a very rainy day when we started, but once
across the divide the air became much drier. The clouds, driven by
the south-east trade-wind, strike the islands on the east side,
and this is the reason why the east coast is so much damper than
the west, and why the vegetation is so immoderately thick on the
one side, and much less luxuriant on the other. On the west side
the bush is thinner and there are wide stretches of reed-grass,
but there is plenty of water, bright creeks fed by the rainfall on
the mountains. Here, on the coast, it was much warmer than where we
had come from, but the air was most agreeable, dry and invigorating,
quite different from the damp, heavy air on the other side.
Late at night, after a long walk on the warm beach sand, we reached
the village of Nogugu. Next day Mr. G., a planter, was good enough to
take me with him in his motor-boat, southward along the coast. High
mountains came close to the shore, falling in almost perpendicular
walls straight down into the sea. Deep narrow valleys led inland into
the very heart of the island. Several times, when we were passing
the openings of these valleys, a squall caught us, and rain poured
down; then, again, everything lay in bright sunshine and the coast
was picturesque indeed with its violet shadows and reddish rocks. The
only level ground to be seen was at the mouths of the valleys in the
shape of little river deltas.
The village to which we were going was on one of these deltas. Hardly
had we set foot on shore than a violent earthquake almost threw us
to the ground. The shock lasted for at least thirty seconds, then
we heard a dull rumbling as of thunder, and saw how all along the
coast immense masses of earth fell into the sea from the high cliffs,
so that the water boiled and foamed wildly. Then yellow smoke came
out of all the bays, and hung in heavy clouds over the devastated
spots, and veiled land and sea. Inland, too, we saw many bare spots,
where the earth and trees had slipped down. The shocks went on all
night, though with diminished violence, and we continually heard the
thunderous rattling of falling rocks and earth.
Next day we stopped at the village of Wus, and I persuaded a dainty
damsel (she was full-grown, but only 134.4 cm. high) to make me a
specimen of pottery. It was finished in ten minutes, without any tool
but a small, flat, bamboo splinter. Without using a potter's wheel
the lady rounded the sides of the jar very evenly, and altogether
gave it a most pleasing, almost classical shape.
When we returned south we could see what damage the earthquake had
done. All the slopes looked as if they had been scraped, and the sea
was littered with wood and bushes. We also experienced the disagreeable
sensation of an earthquake on the water. The boat suddenly began to
shake and tremble, as if a giant hand were shaking it, and at the same
time more earth fell down into the water. The shocks recurred for
several weeks, and after a while we became accustomed to them. The
vibrations seemed to slacken and to become more horizontal, so that
we had less of the feeling of being pushed upwards off our feet,
but rather that of being in an immense swing. For six weeks I was
awakened almost every night by dull, threatening thunder, followed
some seconds later by a shock.
Another village where pottery was made was Pespia, a little inland. The
chief obligingly gathered the scattered population, and I had ample
opportunity to buy pots and watch the making of them. The method is
different from that at Wus, for a primitive wheel, a segment of a
thick bamboo, is used. On this the clay is wound up in spirals and
the surface smoothed inside and out. This is the method by which
most of the prehistoric European pottery was made. The existence of
the potter's art in these two villages only of all the New Hebrides
is surprising. Clay is found in other districts, and the idea that
the natives might have learnt pottery from the Spaniards lacks
all probability, as the Spaniards never visited the west coast of
Santo. The two entirely different methods offer another riddle.
I made my way back along the coast, round Cape Cumberland. One of my
boys having run away, I had to carry his load myself, and although
it was not the heaviest one, I was glad when I found a substitute
for him. This experience gave me an insight into the feelings of a
tired and discontented carrier.
At Wora I found that my host had returned to his station near
Talamacco. So I returned to Talamacco by boat; the earthquake had
been very violent there, and had caused the greatest damage, and I
heard that all the new houses of the Messrs. Thomas at Hog Harbour
had been ruined.
Times had been troublous in other respects at Talamacco; the natives,
especially the Christians, were fighting, and one Sunday they were
all ready, looking very fierce, to attack each other with clubs and
other weapons, only neither side dared to begin. I asked them to do
the fighting out in the open, so that I could take a picture of it,
and this cooled them down considerably. They sat down and began a
long palaver, which ended in nothing at all, and, indeed, no one
really knew what had started the excitement.
In spite of the supercargo's announcement that the steamer would
arrive on the twentieth, she did not come till the first of the
following month. This kept me constantly on the look out and ready
for departure, and unable to do anything of importance. At last we
sailed, touching the Banks Islands on our route; and after enjoying
a few days of civilization on board, I went ashore at Tassimaloun,
on the south-west corner of Santo, where I had the pleasure of being
Mr. C.'s guest. My object there was to follow the traces of the pygmy
population, but as the natives mostly live inland, and only rarely come
to the coast, I had to go in search of them. At that time I was often
ill with fever, and could not do as much as I could have wished. Once
I tried to reach the highest mountain of the islands, Santo Peak,
but my guides from the mission village of Vualappa led me for ten
days through most uninteresting country and an unfriendly population
without even bringing me to the foot of the mountain. I had several
unpleasant encounters with the natives, during one of which I fully
expected to be murdered, and when our provisions were exhausted we had
to return to the coast. But every time I saw the tall pyramid of Santo
Peak rising above the lower hills I longed to be the first European
to set foot on it, and I tried it at last from the Tassiriki side.
After long consultations with the natives, I at last found two men
who were willing to guide me to the mountain. I decided to give up
all other plans, and to take nothing with me but what was strictly
necessary. On the second day we climbed a hill which my guides insisted
was the Peak, the highest point of the island. I pointed out a higher
summit, but they said that we would never get up there before noon,
and, indeed, they did everything they could to delay our advance,
by following wrong trails and being very slow about clearing the
way. Still, after an hour's hard work, we were on the point in
question, and from there I could see the real Santo Peak, separated
from us by only one deep valley, as far as I could judge in the tangle
of forest that covered everything. The guides again pretended that we
were standing on the highest mountain then, and that it would take
at least a fortnight to reach the real Peak. I assured them that I
meant to be on its top by noon, and when they showed no inclination
whatever to go on, I left them and went on with my boys. We had to
dive into a deep ravine, where we found a little water and refilled
our bottles. Then we had to ascend the other side, which was trying,
as we had lost the trail and had to climb over rocks and through the
thickest bush I ever met. The ground was covered with a dense network
of moss-grown trunks that were mouldering there, through which we
often fell up to our shoulders, while vines and ferns wound round
our bodies, so that we did our climbing more with our arms than with
our feet. After a while one of the guides joined us, but he did not
know the way; at last we found it, but there were many ups and downs
before we attained the summit. The weather now changed, and we were
suddenly surrounded by the thick fog that always covers the Peak before
noon. The great humidity and the altitude combine to create a peculiar
vegetation in this region; the tree-ferns are tremendously developed,
and the natives pretend that a peculiar species of pigeon lives here.
I was surprised to find any paths at all up here; but the natives come
here to shoot pigeons, and several valleys converge at Santo Peak,
so that there are important passes near its summits. One of my boys
gave out here, and we left him to repose. The rest of the way was not
difficult, but we were all very tired when we reached the top. There
was another summit, a trifle higher, separated from the first by
a long ridge, but we contented ourselves with the one we were on,
especially as we could see absolutely nothing. I was much disappointed,
as on a clear day the view of Santo and the whole archipelago must
be wonderful. I deposited a bottle with a paper of statistics,
which some native has probably found by this time. We were wet and
hungry, and as it was not likely that the fog would lift, we began the
descent. Without the natives I never could have found the way back in
the fog; but they followed the path easily enough, and half-way down
we met the other guides coming slowly up the mountain. They seemed
pleased to have escaped the tiresome climb; possibly they may have
had other reasons for their dislike of the Peak. They were rather
disappointed, I thought, that I had had my way in spite of their
resistance. They now promised to lead us back by another route, and
we descended a narrow valley for several hours; then came a long halt,
as my guides had to chat with friends in a village we passed. At last
I fairly had to drive them away, and we went down another valley,
where we found a few women bathing in a stream, who ran away at the
sight of us. We bathed, and then enjoyed an excellent meal of taro,
which one of the guides had brought from the village. Before leaving,
one of my boys carefully collected all the peelings of my food, and
threw them into the river, so that I might not be poisoned by them,
he said. A last steep climb ended the day's exertions, and we entered
the village where we were to sleep. While the guides bragged to the
men of their feats, the women brought us food and drink, and I had
a chance to rest and look about me.
I was struck by the great number of women and the very small number
of men in this place; after a while I found out the reason, which was
that ten of the men had been kidnapped by a Frenchman while on their
way to a plantation on the Segond Channel, where they meant to work
a few days. The women are now deprived of their husbands for at least
three years, unless they find men in some other village. If five of the
ten ever return, it will be a good average, and it is more than likely
that they will find a deserted and ruined village if they do come back.
This is one of many illustrations of how the present recruiting
system and the laxity of the French authorities combine to ruin the
native population. (I have since heard that by request of the British
authorities these men were brought back, but only after about nine
months had passed, and without receiving any compensation. Most
kidnapping cases never come to the ears of the authorities at all.)
As our expedition was nearly at an end, and I had no reason to
economize my provisions, I gave some to the villagers, and the
women especially who had hardly ever tasted rice or tinned meat,
were delighted. One old hag actually made me a declaration of love,
which, unfortunately, I could not respond to in the same spirit.
Night crept across the wide sea, and a golden sunset was followed by a
long afterglow. Far away on the softly shining silver we saw a sail,
small as a fly, that drifted slowly seaward and was swallowed up by
the darkness, from which the stars emerged one by one. The women had
disappeared in the huts; the men were sitting outside, around the
fires, and, thinking I was asleep, talked about me in biche la mar.
First they wondered why a man should care to climb up a mountain
simply to come down again; and my boys told them of all my doings,
about my collecting curios and skulls, of my former wanderings and the
experiences we had had, and how often the others had tried to shoot
me, etc. In short, I found out a great many things I had never known,
and I shivered a little at hearing what I had escaped, if all the
boys said was true. At last, when I had been sufficiently discussed,
which was long after midnight, they lay down, each beside a small fire,
and snored into the cool, clear night.
The following morning was brilliantly fine. We took a hearty leave
of our hosts, and raced, singing and shouting, down the steep hills,
and so home. The fine weather was at an end. The sky was cloudy, the
barometer fell and a thin rain pierced everything. Two days later the
steamer arrived, and I meant to go aboard, but a heavy swell from the
west set in, such as I had never seen before, although not a breath of
wind was stirring. These rollers were caused by a cyclone, and gave us
some idea of its violence. I despaired of ever reaching the steamer,
but Mr. B. was an expert sailor, and making the most of a slight lull,
he brought me safely through the surf and on board. His goods, however,
could not be loaded on to the steamer, which immediately sailed. We
passed New Year's Eve and New Year's Day at anchor in South-West Bay,
Malekula, while a terrific gale whipped the water horizontally toward
the ship and across the deck. We spent gloomy holidays, shut up in the
damp, dark steamer, unable to stay on deck, restless and uncomfortable
below. How one learns to appreciate the British impassiveness which
helps one, in such conditions, to spend a perfectly happy day with
a pipe and a talk about the weather!
On the morning of the third day we lay off the east coast of Malekula,
on a blue, shining sea, with all the landscape as peaceful and bright
as if there were no such thing as a cyclone in the world.
I landed, packed my collections, which I had left in Vao, and, with the
help of a missionary, I reached Bushman Bay, whence Mr. H. kindly took
me to Vila. There H.B.M. Resident Commissioner, Mr. Morton King, did
me the honour of offering me his hospitality, so that I was suddenly
transplanted to all the luxuries of civilized life once more. I spent
the days packing the collections awaiting me at Vila, and which I found
in fairly good condition; the evenings were passed in the interesting
society of Mr. King, who had travelled extensively and was an authority
on matters relating to the Orient. He inspired me with admiration
for the British system of colonial politics with its truly idealistic
tendencies. The weeks I spent at Port Vila will always be a pleasant
memory of a time of rest and comfort and stimulating intercourse.
In February I left for Noumea, where I hoped to meet two friends and
colleagues, Dr. Fritz Sarasin and Dr. Jean Roux, who were coming to
New Caledonia in order to pursue studies similar to mine. The time I
spent with them was rich in interest and encouragement, and in March
I returned to the New Hebrides with renewed energy.