TANNA
Of the larger inhabited islands of the New Hebrides, only Tanna
remained to be visited. Instead of stopping at Vila, I went on to
White Sands, Tanna, where the Rev. M. was stationed. The large
island of Erromanga has but little native population, and that
is all christianized; the same is true of the smaller islands of
Aneityum, Aniwa and Futuna. I preferred to study Tanna, as it is
characteristic of all the southern part of the archipelago. The
population is quite different from that in the north, and one would
call it Polynesian, were it not for the curly hair which shows
Melanesian admixture. Light-coloured, tall, strong, with the fleshy
body that is often a feature of the Polynesian, the people have, not
infrequently, fine open features, small noses and intelligent faces
of oval outline. They are more energetic, warlike and independent
than those up north, and their mode of life is different, the Suque
and everything connected with it being entirely absent. Instead, we
find hereditary chieftainship, as in all Polynesia, and the chiefs
are held in the highest veneration by their subjects. This state of
things was greatly to the advantage of the missions, as the chiefs,
even if converted, retained their authority, whereas in the north the
high castes, on their conversion, lost all influence and position,
as these only depended on the Suque. The brilliant results of the
missions in Tanna are due, apart from the splendid work of the two
Presbyterian missionaries, chiefly to this fact. If the missionaries
and the authorities would join forces for the preservation of the
native race, great good might be done. Intelligent efforts along
this line ought to comprise the following features: revival of the
wish to live and the belief in a future for the race, increase in
the birth-rate, rational distribution of the women, abolition of the
present recruiting system, compulsory medical treatment, creation
of law and order, and restoration of old customs as to daily life
and food.
The houses on Tanna are poor huts of reed-grass, probably because the
perpetual wars discouraged the people from building good dwellings. The
principal weapons are the spear and club, the arrow, as elsewhere
in Polynesia, playing a subordinate part. A weapon which is probably
peculiar to Tanna are throwing-stones, carefully made stone cylinders,
which were hurled in battle. If a man had not time to procure one of
these granite cylinders, a branch of coral or a slab of stone, hewn
into serviceable shape, would serve his turn; and these instruments
are not very different from our oldest prehistoric stone implements.
Quite a Polynesian art is the manufacture of tapa: bark cloth. The
Tannese do not know how to make large pieces, but are satisfied with
narrow strips, used as belts by the men, and prettily painted in
black and red.
The dress of the men is similar to that of Malekula, that of the
women consists of an apron of grass and straw; and they often wear
a hat of banana leaves, while the men affect a very complicated
coiffure. The hair is divided into strands, each of which is wound
with a fibre from the head out. A man may have several hundred of
these ropes on his head all tied together behind, giving a somewhat
womanish appearance. It takes a long time to dress the hair thus,
and the custom is falling into disuse.
On the whole, the culture of the Tannese is low; there is no braiding
or carving, and the ornaments worn consist only of a few bracelets
and necklaces, with an occasional nose-stick; the only conspicuous
feature are ear-rings of tortoise-shell, of which as many as a dozen
may hang in one ear.
On the other side of Tanna is Lenakel, where the Rev. W. was working
with admirable devotion and success in a hospital. I crossed the
island several times, and enjoyed the delightful rides through the
shady forest, on very good bridle-paths the natives had made.
Tanna's most striking sight is its volcano; there is hardly another
in the world so easily accessible; for in half an hour from the
shore its foot may be reached, and in another half-hour one is at
the top. It is about 260 m. high, a miniature volcano, with all its
accessories complete, hot springs, lake, desert, etc., always active,
rarely destructive, looking like an overgrown molehill. A wide plain
stretches inland, utterly deserted owing to the poisonous vapours
always carried across it by the south-east trade-wind, and in the
centre of the plain is a sweet-water lake.
I climbed the volcano for the first time on a rainy day. On top, I
suddenly found myself at the end of the world; it was the edge of the
crater, completely filled with steam. As I walked along the precipice,
such an infernal thundering began just under my feet as it seemed,
that I thought best to retire. My next ascent took place on a clear,
bright day; but the wind drove sand and ashes along the desert,
and dimmed the sunshine to a yellowish gloomy light. I traversed the
desert to the foot of the crater, where the cone rose gradually out
of brownish sand, in a beautiful curve, to an angle of 45 deg.. The lack
of all vegetation or other point of comparison made it impossible
to judge whether the mountain was 100 or 1000 m. high. The silence
was oppressive, and sand columns danced and whirled up and down,
to and fro, like goblins. A smell of sulphur was in the air, the
heat was torturing, the ground burnt one's feet, and the climb in
the loose sand was trying. But farther up the sea-breeze cooled the
air deliciously, and stone blocks afforded a foothold. Soon I was on
top, and the sight I saw seemed one that only the fancy of a morbid,
melancholy genius could have invented, an ugly fever dream turned real,
and no description could do it justice.
In front of me the ground fell down steeply, and the torn sides of
the crater formed a funnel-shaped cavity, a dark, yawning depth. There
were jagged rocks, fantastic, wild ridges, crevices, fearful depths,
from which issued steam and smoke. Poisonous vapour poured out of
the rocks in white and brownish clouds that waved to and fro, slowly
rising, until a breeze caught and carried them away. The sight alone
would suffice to inspire terror, without the oppressive smoke and the
uncanny noise far down in the depths. Dull and regular, it sounded like
the piston of an engine or a great drum, heard through the noises of a
factory. Presently there was silence, and then, without any warning,
came a tearing crack, the thunder as of 100 heavy guns, a metallic
din, and a cloud of smoke rose; and while we forced ourselves to
stay and watch, the inferno below thundered a roaring echo, the walls
shook, and a thousand dark specks flew up like a swarm of frightened
birds. They were lava blocks, and they fell back from the height of the
crater, rattling on the rocks, or were swallowed up by the invisible
gorge. Then a thick cloud surrounded everything, and we realized
that our post at the mouth of the crater, on an overhanging ridge,
was dangerous; indeed, a part of the edge, not far off, broke down
and was lost in the depths. Another and another explosion followed;
but when we turned, we overlooked a peaceful landscape, green forests,
palms bending over the bright blue water, and far off the islands of
Erromanga, Futuna and Aniwa.
A visit to the volcano at night was a unique experience. Across the
desert the darkness glided, and as we climbed upward, we felt and
heard the metallic explosions through the flanks of the mountain, and
the cloud over the crater shone in dull red. Cautiously we approached
the edge, just near enough to look down. The bottom of the crater
seemed lifted, the walls were almost invisible, and the uncertain
glare played lightly over some theatrical-looking rocks. We could see
three orifices; steam poured out of one, in the other the liquid lava
boiled and bubbled, of the third there was nothing to be seen but
a glow; but underneath this some force was at work. Did we hear or
feel it? We were not sure; sometimes it sounded like shrill cries of
despair, sometimes all was still, and the rocks seemed to shake. Then
suddenly it boiled up, hissing as if a thousand steam-pipes had burst,
something unspeakable seemed preparing, yet nothing happened. Some
lava lumps were thrown out, to fall back or stick to the rocks, where
they slowly died out. All at once a sheaf of fire shot up, tall and
glowing, an explosion of incredible fury followed; the sheaf dispersed
and fell down in marvellous fireworks and thousands of sparks. Slowly,
in a fiery stream the lava flowed back to the bottom. Then another
explosion and another, the thumping increased, one of the other
openings worked, spitting viciously in all directions, the noise
became unbearable. All one's senses were affected, for the din was
too violent to touch one's hearing only. Then there was silence;
the cloud rose, and beside it we saw the stars in the pure sky,
and heard the surf beat peacefully, consolingly, as if there were no
volcano and no glowing lava anywhere near.
While we were standing on the brink as if fascinated, the silver
moon rose behind us, spread a broad road of light on the quiet sea,
played round us with her cool light, shone on the opposite wall of
the crater, and caressed the sulphurous cloud. It was a magical sight,
the contrast of the pure moonlight and the dirty glare of the volcano;
an effect indescribably grand and peculiar, a gala performance of
nature, the elements of heaven and hell side by side.
At last we left. Behind and above us thundered the volcano, below
us lay the desert, silvery in the moonlight, in quiet, simple lines;
far away rolled the sea, and in the silence the moon rose higher and
higher, and our shadows followed us as we traversed the plain and
gained the friendly shade of the palm grove.