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THE SAVAGE SOUTH SEAS by Ernest Way Elkington
AGENTS
America The Macmillan Company
64 & 66 Fifth Avenue, New York
Canada The Macmillan Company of Canada, Ltd.
27 Richmond Street West, Toronto
India Macmillan & Company, Ltd.
Macmillan Building, Bombay
309 Bow Bazaar Street, Calcutta
[Illustration 1: OFF TO THE DUBU DANCE, BRITISH NEW GUINEA]
THE SAVAGE
SOUTH SEAS
PAINTED BY NORMAN H. HARDY
DESCRIBED BY E. WAY ELKINGTON
PUBLISHED BY A. & C. BLACK
SOHO SQUARE · LONDON · MCMVII
[Illustration]
NOTE
There are various ways of spelling some of the place-names of the South
Sea Islands, _e.g._ Samari, Tupusuli, and Elevera are so spelt in this
book, but the forms Samarai, Tupuselei, and Ela-Vara are commonly met
with. Ambryn, however, is a misprint for Ambrym.
CONTENTS
PART I
BRITISH NEW GUINEA
I • Chiefly historical—Concerning certain discoverers,
their aims and ambitions—The story of New Guinea, the
Solomons and New Hebrides, and some things that might be
altered • 3
II • New Guinea natives—Port Moresby and its two native
villages—Huts on poles and trees—Native superstition and
its result on two tribes • 13
III • Natives who grow crops of hair—A word or two about
the women—Duties of married women—How they carry their
babes, and the philosophy of childhood • 25
IV • Concerning love and grief—How love is made in New
Guinea, and some of the charms used to ensure love and
constancy—The grief of a New Guinea widow • 37
V • Some native dances and queer costumes—Novel
blackmailing methods—Woman’s vanity and a censured
dance • 48
VI • Outrigger Canoes, their appearance and
construction—The famous Lakatois—How the natives catch
their fish; and a few words about fish that climb trees—A
trip down the coast, and an unpleasant experience • 57
PART II
THE SOLOMON ISLANDS
VII • South Sea traders good and bad; their ups and
downs—Nicolas the Greek—The Mambare river massacre—Some
queer creatures with queerer ways—“A fitting end to a
wasted life” • 71
VIII • Natives who have had no chance; their villages
without streets and their curious huts—The tambu and
canoe houses—An unlucky trader • 84
IX • Solomon Islands—Ingova’s head-hunters—How whole
tribes were wiped out—Savage invasions and clever
tactics • 94
X • Clothes and the men—Love of adornment—Natives
who are not keen on eating—Methods of cooking their
food—Betel-nut chewing • 104
XI • Some clever ways of catching fish—How the bonito is
landed—Native nets—Pig-hunting—The sly opossum and the
crocodile • 113
XII • A curious religion—Burying the dead, and some
graveyards—Dances and music—Native artists and how fire
is made • 124
XIII • What “hope” is to the Solomon islander—The use of
the evil eye • 134
PART III
THE NEW HEBRIDES
XIV • Islands that are advancing rapidly—Native houses
with modern improvements—A horrible method of getting rid
of the old men, and other burial ceremonies • 143
XV • Ancestor worship the religion of the New
Hebrides—Temples and strange figures, and some sacred
dances • 153
XVI • Concerning witchcraft—More about burials—The
gentle art of making love—The rain-makers • 163
XVII • Native clothing and ornaments—Their arts and
industries, their canoes and weapons, and their way of
fishing • 172
XVIII • The cultivation of copra—The labour traffic when
slavery really existed, and the traffic in natives of
to-day • 183
XIX • A short sketch of the missionary work in the South
Seas—Concerning John Williams, James Chalmers, and
others • 193
SKETCH MAP OF THE SOUTH SEA ISLANDS • 204
INDEX • 205
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
1. Off to the Dubu Dance—British New
Guinea • _Frontispiece_
2. By Reef and Palm • 6
3. Off to Market, British New Guinea • 14
4. Motu Village from the Sea • 18
5. The Island of Elevera from the Mission Station, Port
Moresby, British New Guinea • 20
6. Tree House in British New Guinea • 22
7. Motu Village, Port Moresby, British New Guinea • 24
8. In the Pile Dwellings at Hanuabada, Port Moresby,
British New Guinea • 26
9. Native of British New Guinea, showing the manner of
wearing the hair • 30
10. A New Guinea Dandy • 32
11. Woman with Baby in bag. Fairfax Island, British New
Guinea • 34
12. Dinner Time at Kwato, British New Guinea • 36
13. A Kaivakuku, Roro Tribe, Central Division, British New
Guinea • 48
14. Harvest Dance, New Guinea • 50
15. Ready for the Dubu Dance • 52
16. The Dubu at Rigo, British New Guinea • 54
17. Tattooing, British New Guinea. • 56
18. Large Trading Canoes, British New Guinea • 58
19. Old Women making Pottery, British New Guinea • 60
20. Spearing Fish, British New Guinea • 62
21. Marine Village, Tupusuli, British New Guinea • 64
22. Natives of the New Hebrides having a drink • 66
23. Gold Miners leaving a trading ship, British New
Guinea • 72
24. Johnnie Pratt with his Ivory Nuts at Simbo, Solomon
Islands • 74
25. Solomon Island Boy climbing after green cocoa-nuts,
near Gavutu, New Florida • 80
26. Solomon Island Village, near Marau Sound, New
Florida • 84
27. Early Morning, Gavutu, Solomon Islands • 86
28. Old Ingova’s War Canoe House, Rubiana Lagoon, New
Georgia, Solomon Islands • 90
29. On the Fringe of a primæval Forest, Solomon
Islands • 92
30. Portrait of a Solomon Island Cannibal • 94
31. Sacred Skull Shrines, British Solomon Islands • 96
32. Ingova’s Head-hunters, British Solomon Islands • 98
33. A Canoe showing the “Totoishu,” New Georgia, Solomon
Islands • 100
34. A Lagoon in New Florida, Solomon Islands • 102
35. Native of New Georgia wearing Sunshade; a sort of
crownless hat made of grasses: it can be worn at any
angle • 104
36. A Rubiana Native, Solomon Islands • 106
37. A Stormy Day in Rubiana Lagoon, Solomon Islands • 108
38. Cooking the Meal, British New Guinea • 110
39. The Reef near Simbo, Solomon Islands • 114
40. Native Archer shooting Fish, British Solomon
Islands • 116
41. Searching for small Octopi on the Reef at low tide,
Samari, British New Guinea • 118
42. The Home of the Crocodile, British Solomon
Islands • 122
43. A Shrine or Tomb of a Chief at Simbo, Solomon
Islands • 126
44. Solomon Islander playing the “Ivivu” or Flute • 130
45. A Tapu Virgin, British Solomon Islands • 136
46. Beneath a Banyan Tree, Malekula Island, New
Hebrides • 142
47. The Rapids, Williams River, Island of Eromanga, New
Hebrides • 144
48. Mount Marion, the active Volcano, Island of Ambryn,
New Hebrides • 146
49. A Village in Santo, New Hebrides • 148
50. Chief’s House, Ambryn, New Hebrides • 150
51. The “M’aki” Ground and the Jaws of the sacred Pigs,
New Hebrides • 154
52. A Memorial Effigy, Malekula, New Hebrides • 156
53. Drum Grove at Mele, New Hebrides • 158
54. Leaving Santo, a View of the Mountains, New
Hebrides • 162
55. A Sacred Man, Aoba, New Hebrides • 164
56. The Stone “Demits,” or the Souls, with their attendant
wooden figures, Malekula Island, New Hebrides • 168
57. Old Cannibal Chief whom the Artist met on the Island
of Aoba, New Hebrides • 172
58. Type of Man from the Island of Tanna, New
Hebrides • 174
59. Finishing off a Canoe, British New Guinea • 176
60. Old War Canoes, near Malekula, New Hebrides • 178
61. Havannah Harbour, Rathmoy, New Hebrides • 180
62. Passing the Reef, Aoba, New Hebrides • 182
63. The Island of Samari, British New Guinea • 184
64. A Trader receiving Cocoa-nuts, Aoba, New Hebrides • 186
65. Copra Boys off to the Shore, New Hebrides • 188
66. The “Blackbirders” in the Solomon Islands • 190
67. A Yam Shed on the Island of Tierra Espiritu Santo, New
Hebrides • 192
68. The Artist’s Guide on Malekula, New Hebrides • 196
{1}
PART I
BRITISH NEW GUINEA
{3}
CHAPTER I
Chiefly historical—Concerning certain discoverers, their aims and
ambitions—The story of New Guinea, the Solomons, and New Hebrides, and
some things that might be altered.
In these days when distance hardly counts, when the cry is heard
that new outlets are wanted for capital, when there are thousands of
unemployed crowded in London, and people are anxious to find adventure,
eager to see new things, to conquer new lands, exploit new industries
and gain more knowledge, it is worth while turning our attention to the
South Sea Islands.
It is strange that so little is known of them, and that so few people
have bothered themselves to visit them. A few missionaries, explorers,
and adventurers have written about and spent a few months on them,
but what is this when there are miles and miles of the most beautiful
country crying out for people; there is wealth, both mineral and
vegetable, waiting for the industry and enterprise {4} of good men
to reap, and, above all, there is a delightful climate and a race of
savages who in themselves repay the inconveniences of the journey.
The chief island is New Guinea, which is the largest in the world
and contains some 340,700 square miles, much of which has never been
trodden by white men. There are no sandy, dried-up districts in New
Guinea or the Solomon Islands, and no long droughts; but rather a
full fall of rain which makes the ground bring forth its produce in
abundance.
There is land out there which some day will surprise people, and when
one considers the difficulty Australia had to persuade the British
Government to annex it, one cannot help laughing at the ignorance
and short-sightedness of the men of those times. It was not until
1884 that the Government sent Commodore Erskine to the south-eastern
portion of New Guinea to proclaim a protectorate over it, and then
only after receiving a guarantee from the Queensland Government that
they would undertake to find £15,000 per annum towards the cost of its
administration.
The Queensland Government had, a year before this, already annexed it.
They knew its value, and had it not been for their prompt action these
{5} valuable islands would now all have been in the possession of the
Dutch and Germans.
Accounts of the islands date back to 1512, but many things go to
suggest that both the Malays and Chinese knew of their existence and
had visited them long before that date. The first Europeans we hear
of who sighted them were the Spanish sailor, Alvaro de Sacedra, and a
Portuguese whose name is not known.
Prior to the arrival of Captain Cook, in 1770, there were numerous
adventurers who gave accounts of these islands. Luis Vaez de Torres,
after whom the Torres Straits were named, passed them in 1660 and
sent to the world a full account of his voyage, but little notice was
taken of it. We next hear of De Bougainville, the French navigator
who arrived there in 1768; then came Captain Cook, and after him many
others sighted the shores of New Guinea.
It was, however, the Dutch who first made any movements to attempt
to find out its geographic and scientific value. They began in a
neat business-like way by annexing that section west of the 141st
meridian of east longitude, and despatching the _Dourga_, commanded by
Lieutenant Kolff, to examine and report on it. He was a zealous man
and, like many other enthusiastic sailors who have visited {6} new
lands, found many things there which no one else has been able to find,
and which have since been proved never to have existed. But some excuse
for him can be found, owing to the disadvantages he was under and the
savageness of the natives. He probably thought that no one in his time,
if they followed him, would live to tell the tale, so he wrote what he
thought “might have been.” Then came the Postillion Expedition in 1853,
followed by the Trinton Expedition and the Scientific Expedition of Van
der Crab in 1871. Dr. Meyers followed in 1873, and many other Dutch
enthusiasts came after him during the next few years.
During this time, however, England was not quite asleep. In 1842 H.M.S.
_Fly_ was sent on a survey expedition and remained there till 1846,
attention being devoted to that part of the island now known as British
New Guinea. The Expedition also discovered and named the rivers Fly and
Aird, in districts where later on many brave and good men lost their
lives at the hands of the natives.
[Illustration 2: BY REEF AND PALM]
Following this ship, in 1846, came H.M.S. _Rattlesnake_, and good work
was the result of her stay. Captain Moresby visited the island in 1871,
and thoroughly explored many parts of it which were {7} unknown
before his time. He landed at the harbour now known as Port Moresby,
and gave such glowing accounts of the island that it was visited by
many eminent naturalists immediately afterwards; and then the work of
the pioneer missionaries, who had been busy there for some time, began
to be talked about, and considerable interest in these islands was
aroused.
Queensland, acting under the advice of Mr. Chester, a prominent man
well up in the value of New Guinea, sent out Sir Thomas M‘Ilwraith
to take possession of it in the name of the Queen. But the British
Government refused to acknowledge this act, and thereby aroused the
indignation of the Australians. A conference was held in Sydney and the
British Government communicated with, with the result stated, that they
saw their mistake and Sir Peter Scratchley was sent to New Guinea to
act as High Commissioner.
His term of office was short, as he contracted malaria in 1885 and
died. The man who took his place was a Queenslander, the Hon. John
Douglas, who understood the position, and did valuable service to his
country by making a study of the natives and the possibilities of the
country.
In 1888 Sir William MacGregor, M.D., {8} K.C.M.G., was finally
appointed Governor, and during his ten years of office showed that
he was the right man in the right place. He was succeeded by George
Ruthven Le Hunte, Esq., C.M.G.
To-day the affairs of British New Guinea are on an excellent basis. An
Administrator is appointed by the Crown, whose duty it is to consult
with the Governor of Queensland and report to that Government on all
matters of importance. The Administrator is supported by two State
Councils, the Executive and the Legislative, the first being composed
of the Administrator, the Chief Judicial Officer, the Government
Secretary, and a Resident Magistrate. The second is composed of the
Executive Council, together with any officers they may appoint.
Petty Sessions Courts are also established and presided over by a
Resident Magistrate, who has the same powers as a Police Magistrate in
the Colonies. Europeans and natives have equal rights in the courts,
and an appeal is allowed under certain circumstances. Native police
preserve order in the towns. An amusing thing about them is that they
are chiefly ex-convicts, and are given the appointment as a reward for
good behaviour whilst in gaol. {9}
The discovery of the Solomon Islands is credited to Don Alvaro Mendana
de Meyer, who went out there in the hope of discovering from whence
King Solomon’s wealth came—the supposition was that the islands of the
Pacific supplied much of it. That supposition no longer exists.
On sighting the Solomon Islands, and believing them to be the islands
he was seeking, he named them Islas de Salomon. This was in the year
1567. After this he thoroughly explored many of them and gave them the
names they now bear—Guadalcanar, San Christoval, and Isabel. Whilst
thus engaged he decided to found a colony, and with that end in view
he returned home and gathered together a number of men anxious to make
their fortunes. He returned with them, landed at a place he thought was
part of the Solomon Islands, and called it Santa Cruz. The colony was
not a success, as most of the immigrants, including the discoverer,
died, and the survivors returned to South America.
One of these survivors was De Quiros, who subsequently discovered the
New Hebrides.
Bougainville and others, many years afterwards, again came across these
islands, and later they were identified as those Mendana de Meyer had
{10} discovered and thought were part of the Solomon Islands.
In 1873 the Solomon Islands came into notice through the labour
traffic. There was at this time a demand in Queensland for black
labour, and traders who visited the islands found that they could
kidnap strong, sturdy natives and sell them for good prices to the
Queensland and Fiji planters, with the result that, unknown to the
Powers, a big and scandalous trade was carried on.
The group consists of seven large islands and no end of small ones,
which are dotted about over some 600 miles of sea at a distance of
about 400 miles south-east of New Guinea.
Great Britain and Germany shared the islands nearly equally until
England ceded Samoa to Germany in exchange for territory in the
Solomons. Now Great Britain owns the whole group with the exception of
Bougainville and Buka.
The story of the discovery of the New Hebrides is also interesting.
It was first sighted by Spanish explorers, De Quiros and Luis Vaez de
Torres, who set sail from Peru in two ships to seek the Great Southern
Continent, which tradition told them was somewhere in the South
Pacific. De Quiros, as before stated, came across the New Hebrides
group, {11} striking first one of the largest islands in the northern
part of it. This he named Tierra Australis del Espiritu Santo, thinking
possibly it was an enormous tract of land instead of a small island.
Fired with ambition and the example of his late _confrère_, Mendana de
Meyer, he also attempted to found a colony there, but, like de Meyer,
he had to return with his few survivors and write “failure” across his
enterprise.
Luis de Torres left De Quiros at the New Hebrides, and it was then that
he sailed through the Torres Straits, which he named and reported on in
1606.
For over a hundred years after the departure of De Quiros from Santo
nothing more was heard of the New Hebrides.
De Bougainville then came across them, and opened the way for the
ubiquitous Captain Cook, who sighted, made charts of, and named the
principal islands and headlands. The Spaniards, though the first to
settle there, never laid claim to them, and they are now conjointly
owned by Great Britain and France.
Owing to their proximity to Australia they have received more attention
than the other islands, and the Commonwealth of Australia has shown
{12} considerable interest in them and inaugurated an emigration
scheme to endeavour to wrest from them some of their enormous mineral
and vegetable wealth. The results of the past few years show great
promise of future prosperity. In fact, in these islands, in particular,
there are resources which will repay the labour and capital of any
enterprising men, and, according to those who are most fitted to judge
and advise, the New Hebrides is a veritable Eldorado. But, until the
natives are more civilised and certain taxes are altered, men prefer to
give them a wide berth and seek their fortunes in lands less dangerous.
Another trouble that has lately arisen, is that France, seeing the
great possibilities in this new colony, has inaugurated a preferential
tariff for French subjects. Had the same been done in England and
Australia no bother would have arisen, but it was not, and, in order to
compete successfully with the French traders, the English and Americans
applied for naturalisation papers which were granted, and though the
Englishmen by birth far exceed the Frenchmen, by naturalisation the
French, if not now, will soon be in greater force.
This is a matter of vital importance, and should have the earnest
attention of those who are interested in the welfare of British
subjects in our Colonies.
{13}
CHAPTER II
New Guinea natives—Port Moresby and its two native villages—Huts on
poles and trees—Native superstition and its result on two tribes.
There no islands in the new world which have been the scene of greater
adventures, more daring exploits, and more exciting times than those
in the South Seas. From the earliest days New Guinea, New Britain,
Solomon Islands, and the New Hebrides have been inhabited by a race of
savages, on whom neither the efforts of missionaries nor the oaths of
traders have been able to make much impression. For years the white man
has tried in vain to break the spirit of these cannibals; with fire
and sword whole villages have been swept away, but neither by fear nor
by kindness have the natives been weaned from their worst customs, and
it will take many years and much education, and perhaps the complete
extinction of the old generation, before they cease to be savages. For
over sixty years {14} the missionaries have been working amongst them
and have taught many to read, and sent them out amongst their brethren
armed with Bibles and tracts in their native languages, but all this
has been of little avail; every day we hear of massacres and risings,
and missionaries and traders are pounced on and murdered, and there is
no accounting for these outrages which make the problem more difficult
to solve. For months or even years men may live on the friendliest
terms with a tribe, and then suddenly, and for no apparent reason, the
natives will rise up and slay them. The whim of a chief, an angry word,
a bad bargain, a superstitious fear, any of these trivialities may be
the cause of a rising, and may mean the death of dozens of innocent
people.
But with all their disadvantages these islands have a fascination for
the traveller that no others have, and when once the taste of the free
and adventurous life of the South Seas has been acquired, there is
always a longing to return to them which nothing will suppress. Neither
stiff joints nor old age make one iota of difference, the yearning will
not be satisfied by anything short of a speedy return.
[Illustration 3: OFF TO MARKET, BRITISH NEW GUINEA]
The deep blue of the sea, the clear bracing air, {15} the screech
of the wild sea-birds, and the roar of the surf, as it breaks on the
reefs, are sounds that echo in the memory. To awaken and hear all these
things is the longing that clings to one. To feel a good ship gliding
through the still waters on the way to the islands; to rise from one’s
bunk and through the port-hole to catch a glimpse of the rugged shores
and the dark, shining skins of the natives as they paddle out in
swarms from the villages to the ship’s side; to hear them calling to
one another and yelling their greetings to the crew, are things which,
when once experienced, can never be forgotten, and will ever haunt the
memory.
But come, let us see these islands where the sun pours down on bright
yellow sands through the long, waving, rustling leaves of the palm
trees, and glistens on the skins of the crocodiles basking in the
rivers, and on the strong, brown arms and tanned faces of the traders,
who have braved all dangers for a life of adventure. Let us look into
the quaint lives of the natives—the last relics of barbarism; let us
see their huts and join in their weird ceremonies and listen to their
songs and learn their superstitions, for in a few years these things
will be gone, and the cyclist and the tripper will be crowding these
savage islands, whilst the sturdy {16} head-hunters will be dead, and
their sons will be cadging pennies, whilst the dark, shy girls will be
bold and talk with nasal accents.
Civilisation is coming, coming quickly. Even here, back in the dense
bush on a still night when the insects are too lazy to fly and the
silence almost speaks, if you listen you can hear the steady tramp of
the ghostly army coming nearer and nearer, crushing through everything,
sparing nothing—the army of civilisation.
The capital of New Guinea is Port Moresby, a quaintly picturesque
village facing a large bay with a natural harbour. In the vicinity are
densely wooded hills, which stretch up and disappear in the distance—a
dark-green and black mass. But when the sun is on them they dance with
colour, and the tints of marvellous brilliancy turn them into a lovely
fairyland, full of romance and adventure. It is wonderful what strange
tales flit across the mind when looking at these hills; what scenes
have been enacted there in times gone by, and now, how calm they seem!
Granville, the small business part of Port Moresby, consists of a few
corrugated iron-roofed houses, the head store of Messrs. Burns Philp,
the great Australasian Trading Company, and the {17} homes of a few
Government officials, and Government House, which lies back a little
and looks solitary and out of place in this weird land of pile-built
huts.
There is the Mission House also, a low, white wood house with a big
verandah running round it and a garden of palms and beautiful flowers.
Hanuabada and Elevera are the names of the two native settlements near
Port Moresby. At certain tides Elevera is an island, at other tides it
is a peninsula, but at all tides and all times it teems with interest.
Quaint huts built on long poles line the shore and look like nothing
one has ever seen before. When the tide is high the water washes right
under them, swishing merrily against the stout poles, and if you want
to inspect one at these times a canoe is necessary, but even then it is
a hazardous job unless you are used to it.
No one knows exactly why the natives went to such trouble in building
their huts, unless it was with a view to protecting themselves against
the attack of an enemy from the land. There were no wild animals for
them to fear.
A regular street divides these rows of huts, all exactly alike, but the
inhabitants seem to know where their friends live, though I am sure
the most {18} experienced London postman would suffer from continual
confusion if his services were required in these parts. In the distance
these villages look very much like rows of haystacks built on stakes,
but on closer inspection they are particularly interesting and have a
very imposing appearance. On reaching the piles one clambers up a rude
ladder and arrives on a platform made of ordinary poles with gaps of a
foot or two between each. Here it is that the natives squat all day and
do what work they have, or, more generally, idle the hours away. Above
the platform is a kind of porch built on a slant and projecting from
the roof, which acts as a protection against the sun or rain. Under
this is an open doorway which leads into the house.
From a sanitary point of view, no habitation could be better than these
pile dwellings, but for comfort give me a modern hotel.
[Illustration 4: MOTU VILLAGE FROM THE SEA]
No furniture or mats are to be seen in these dwellings to catch the
dust, and you can squat on the floor and see through the planks the
waves washing and swelling a few yards below. The floor consists of
the same kind of piles, only flatter and broader than those used for
supporting the house. The platforms are arranged like big steps, and
many of the boards are beautifully carved. {19} Some of them are
immense pieces of timber, which must have required a deal more energy
to cut than the Papuan of to-day is capable of exerting—much less would
he put them into position.
The wood used for the flooring is the hardest obtainable, and seems to
be of a material which takes no heed of wear and tear; the planks are
sometimes heirlooms, and have been handed down from father to son for
many generations. One log tougher than the rest is placed in position
by the door, and on this a fire will probably be burning and a woman
squatting by it cooking her lord and master’s evening meal.
The rank yellow smoke which curls round her does not inconvenience her
in the least. She takes no heed of it, but blows away at the embers,
regardless of smarting eyes and choking throat, probably because she
feels neither. She never fears that the fire will spread and burn down
her home, but just goes on cooking. If you speak to her she may stop
blowing for a second and glance up at you, but never a word passes her
lips, and soon she will be blowing again as if it was quite an ordinary
thing to have a white man staring at her. But though the smoke does not
trouble her a bit, it blinds you, and you soon hurry on to the {20}
next hut, and there confine your attention to its outside.
The roofs are thatched with palm leaves which, though scant, keep out
the rain and sun. The sides and back are also composed of a kind of
thatch on a framework of bamboo or thin wood.
Unlike the habitations of many other branches of this race, these huts
show very little artistic work inside. They are quite bare. A few
cooking-pots may be seen lying about, and these are the only things
which lead one to suppose that the huts are inhabited. The resemblance
of the interiors of all of them is only equal to the sameness of the
exteriors, which makes it impossible to know which one you have been
in and which you have not. This, added to the extreme difficulty a new
chum experiences in getting from one house to another, does not add to
the equability of his temper. It needs a steady head and good balancing
powers to keep footing on these planks, many of which are quite loose
and wobble when you are treading on them. After half an hour of such
walking a giddiness seizes you, and a strong desire comes over you to
kneel down and scramble along on hands and knees to the next hut. But
with practice, and a certain amount of patience and indifference to the
{21} nasty fall one would get by slipping, walking can eventually
be accomplished with ease.
[Illustration 5: THE ISLAND OF ELEVERA FROM THE MISSION STATION, PORT
MORESBY, BRITISH NEW GUINEA.]
The natives themselves run along the poles as quickly as if they were
on paved streets, whilst the little kiddies scramble, and slip, and
tumble about as if they were on an ordinary floor. A fall through the
piles is almost an unknown calamity to them.
Under the houses, when the tide is out, the natives can be seen cutting
out their canoes, making their pottery, repairing their fishing gear
and attending to other duties; but they much prefer to loll about
on the verandahs of their huts, looking out at the sea, thinking of
nothing.
The whole of Elevera only covers about ten acres, but in that space the
huts are crowded together, and give cover to hundreds of healthy and
prosperous-looking inhabitants. On the mainland the houses are built on
small pile platforms, only three or four feet from the ground, whilst
others in the back country are built in trees and look like gigantic
birds’-nests. This last custom, however, has quite died out, for with
the introduction of the axe the protection of a house in a tree would
be of little use, for one blow would fetch the whole construction down.
Also the introduction of the police and the work of the Government
have so diminished the {22} chances of tribal wars that the native no
longer goes to such trouble. In the old days the inmates of these nests
kept a supply of stones and spears on their verandahs, and were able to
use them with great effect on their troublesome neighbours below. Now
such a position would only make them good marks for a rifle shot.
The bush men, or “men belong bush,” to speak in native parlance, are
far more industrious than the “men belong sea,” they who live by the
shore. For besides cultivating the land, growing yams, bananas, and
taro, they make a fair living by hunting.
Two distinct tribes inhabit the villages in Port Moresby, the Koitapus
and Motus. They live amicably enough together now, but seldom
intermarry. The Koitapus were undoubtedly the original inhabitants, and
in colour are somewhat darker than their friends, and have narrower
heads, otherwise it is very hard to distinguish one from the other; but
in their manners, customs, and language there is a marked difference.
The Motu tribe consider themselves the superior of the two, though they
live in great fear of the mysterious powers the Koitapus are said to
possess, and were it not for this superstition the Motus would soon
overrule and probably vanquish the other tribe.
[Illustration 6: TREE HOUSE IN BRITISH NEW GUINEA]
{23}
So strong is their superstitious belief in the powers of the Koitapus,
that directly one of them falls ill, presents are immediately
despatched to a Koitapu man or woman with instructions to remove the
evil influence that has brought the sickness or calamity. The weather
also is supposed to be in the hands of the Koitapus, and be it wet or
fine the Motus have to pay up, that is if they want it changed.
As a tribe the Motus undoubtedly are superior, especially in such
things as cleanliness, cooking, and eating. The Koitapu natives will
devour almost anything with a relish unknown in civilised countries,
but the Motu is careful and particular both about the cooking of his
food and the article cooked. Most of the Motus have their eatables
boiled in earthenware jars, whilst the Koitapu cooks his in an earth
oven.
The Motus gain their living chiefly by fishing and making pottery, and
they exchange both fish and pots with the Koitapu for animal food,
vegetables, and the results of their agricultural pursuits.
The position of the two tribes is summed up thus:—
“Yours is the sea, the canoes, the nets,” says the Koitapu man, “ours
the land and the wallaby. {24} Give us fish for our flesh, and pottery
for our yarns and bananas.”
It is on this understanding that the two tribes live amicably together
in Hanuabada and Elevera.
Altogether Port Moresby is as quaint and picturesque a spot as ever
was seen. A bright blue sky and a sea the colour of which is for ever
changing, a stillness only broken by the roaring surf, the hum of
insects, the occasional cries of the sea-birds, and the chatter of the
natives, make up this delightful haven of rest. No roaring train or
smoking chimney is there to distract the wayfarer; no newspaper boy
yelling out his “disasters” to cause one a sleepless night. A spot in
which to rest and dream, ay, and study the curious customs of one of
the most interesting savage races in the world, if you like that sort
of employment.
[Illustration 7: MOTU VILLAGE, PORT MORESBY, BRITISH NEW GUINEA]
{25}
CHAPTER III
Natives who grow crops of hair—A word or two about the women—Duties
of married women—How they carry their babes, and the philosophy of
childhood.
The natives of New Guinea are fine specimens of human nature, but taken
as a race they cannot be compared to the Maoris of New Zealand or even
to the Fijians. The men are infinitely better-looking than the women,
and their splendid stock of hair, which they wear bunched up all over
their head, sets off their appearance in a remarkable manner. The young
women are bright and cheerful-looking, and amongst them there are some
striking creatures; but there are many sad-looking specimens, some of
the old women are veritable hags, and many fine young girls are quite
spoilt by the quaint habit they have of shaving their heads, whilst
some of the best specimens of men are disfigured by their yellow,
bloodshot eyes, so noticeable in contrast to their dark skins. {26}
As workers the New Guinea natives are probably in advance of many
natives of the adjoining islands. They are, of course, better than the
aboriginal of Australia, who would as lief die as do an honest day’s
work, but that does not say much for them. There is no doubt about it,
they do not love work, though they get through a certain amount.
In Port Moresby the natives of Hanuabada and Elevera live chiefly by
fishing, canoe-building, and pottery-making. The men do the fishing
and canoe-building, whilst the women and children loiter over the
pottery-making. There is a complete absence of hurry; all the natives
work as if they had a lifetime to complete their job; there is a
calmness in them that is only rivalled by the sky over their heads and
the air that blows over this island, and perhaps it is from nature they
have learnt that calm and stolid indifference to just those things over
which we believe it is necessary to hustle.
[Illustration 8: IN THE PILE DWELLINGS AT HANUABADA, PORT MORESBY,
BRITISH NEW GUINEA.]
One extremely peculiar trait in the character of the natives of British
New Guinea is their dislike to inquisitiveness. You can implore a
native to tell you his name, and even offer him coin to pay him for
that information, but it has no effect. He {27} will tell you
some name, if you press him hard enough, but it won’t be his, as you
will discover if you try to find him again. As an instance of this
peculiarity, Mr. Norman Hardy was particularly struck by a canoe he saw
lying on the sand in the main street of Elevera, and seeing a native
standing by, he asked him if the canoe belonged to him, as he would
like to buy it. The native smiled blandly and shook his head.
“Don’t you know whose it is?” asked Mr. Hardy.
“Don’t know; man over there, p’r’aps,” said the native.
“What’s his name?” Mr. Hardy pursued.
“No name.” The native shook his bushy head.
“Well, show me which is the hut he lives in.”
At this question the man began to fidget, and then, glancing carelessly
at the row of huts, all as like each other as peas, he swept his hand
past the whole lot and said:
“That one.”
And that was all the information concerning the name and possessor of
the canoe that Mr. Hardy obtained. Subsequently he learned that the
owner of it was the very man he had been questioning.
The same kind of reticence has been found by {28} all travellers
who have been anxious to find out the ways, the customs, and secret
rites of the natives; but, luckily, now and then a man who will talk
has been found, and then, by using the knowledge gained from him and
showing the others that you know a certain amount about the matter,
it is possible to get a fund of information; though it is always
necessary to corroborate everything you hear, as the art of lying has
been brought to a perfect science in these islands—probably by the
march of civilisation and the example the natives have been set by the
traders—nearly all natives become liars when they are civilised.
Throughout the island the bulk of the work is done by the women-folk,
the men being little less than pampered loafers. There is some sort of
an excuse for this, which, it is only fair to state, is the result of
altered circumstances. In the early days the men were ever on the watch
for enemies, and lived in constant preparedness for a surprise attack.
By day they carried their spears and clubs about with them, and by
night they slept alongside them. There were very few organised fights
compared with those of other islands, except when a big head-hunting
expedition was on, but at these times the natives would get wind of
it; what they had to {29} guard against were small surprise attacks,
and of these they could not obtain information, as they were generally
planned on the spur of the moment. Most of these stalking excursions
were undertaken to supply a sacrifice for a feast, and a native would
be singled out in some adjoining village to fill the want, or else some
chief would require the wife of some other chief, and she would have to
be stolen, or a child had to be kidnapped to spite its parents, and so
the men in every village had to be constantly on the watch, which, of
course, hindered them from working, and left the bulk of the labour to
the women; but now that civilisation has altered the relationship of
the tribes and lessened the chances of these attacks, the occupation
of the men has practically ceased; under the new régime they have
gradually become loafers, and the women still continue the duties they
have performed for generations.
Organised labour is almost unknown, but certain yam patches are owned
by certain natives, and the women work them as they do the banana and
the cocoa-nut groves. In Port Moresby Messrs. Burns Philp employ a
number of men and women for their stores, and for loading and unloading
the trading vessels, but even the heavy work of carrying {30} the
timber is sometimes done by the women, whilst the men loiter about
doing as little as they possibly can. The police, who are clothed
in blue with white facings, are perhaps the busiest natives in the
township; what is more, they are extremely proud of their clothes and
their work, and their exalted position as Government officials makes
them scorn their less fortunate brethren. Their duties, beyond keeping
law and order, are very slight, and amount to an occasional job of
rowing Government men about and mounting guard over stray prisoners.
The native costume of British New Guinea is meagre. With the men, when
they are not absolutely nude, a narrow girdle round their waist is
considered sufficient, whilst a bunch of dogs’ teeth hung from their
ears, a pointed, carved bone run through their noses, and armlets of
vegetable fibre, would comprise a big outfit and make its owner as
proud as a peacock. At festivals, dances, and funerals their clothing
is more elaborate, and they are more highly decorated with masks, mats,
and feathers. And when in mourning, they are so over-dressed that it is
impossible to recognise that the bundle before you is really a human
being. The state or ceremonial costumes of New Guinea vary considerably
in the different parts of the {31} island, and each tribe has its
own particular fancy as to what ought really to be worn, and what ought
not; the only consistency concerning clothes throughout the island is
found when the men are either loafing about or working, and then they
wear as little as possible.
[Illustration 9: NATIVE OF BRITISH NEW GUINEA, SHOWING THE MANNER OF
WEARING THE HAIR.]
The women and young girls usually wear fibre aprons hanging from their
waists to a distance of about eighteen inches, whilst for dancing and
religious ceremonies more luxurious and more lengthy ones, dyed in
different colours, are worn. When dancing the aprons of the unmarried
women are left open at the right side, so that the tattooing on their
hips and thighs can be seen. This bit of coyness is to show that they
are ready to be married, and that they are still heart-whole, for
directly a girl reaches the marriageable age, and wants all the men to
know it, she is carefully tattooed. Another mark of distinction between
the married and unmarried women is in the hair: the married ones wear
it very closely cut, while the single ones pride themselves, like the
men, on their enormous bushy crops. This custom, however, varies in
different tribes, and the hair is arranged in numerous ways, according
to the fashion of the part of the island in which the native is born.
{32}
The Papuan dandy takes no end of care over his hair, which grows to a
great length and is frizzled and bunched up all round his head, and
some of them, farther up the gulf, arrange their hair in this fashion
purely for sale, and when a full crop is ready they shave it off and
sell it up country.
What “the man belong bush” uses it for I don’t know, though some kind
of string is seen in different places which is probably made from it.
As in Fiji and Samoa and Honolulu, it is common to see bleached hair.
It is done for sanitary reasons primarily, and fashion has helped the
custom. Tattooing, however, is not fashionable amongst the men.
The children, like those of other savage races, are completely nude.
They are bright and happy little beggars, and as a rule are free from
nervousness in the presence of strangers and whites. They will stand
round you in groups, with wide-open mouths and eyes, but they have a
tendency to catch hold of each other, and those who are shyest keep
slightly behind the bolder ones. They are born swimmers and divers, and
seem to spend half their days in the water, prancing, splashing about,
and diving, utterly regardless of time or season, and I don’t think
they ever catch cold.
[Illustration 10: A NEW GUINEA DANDY]
{33}
Amongst the children’s games there are two at least that look familiar
to Europeans—a kind of leap-frog and pig-a-back. The former is played
in all the varying ways of the English schoolboy, single leaping and
leaping whole rows; whilst pig-a-back riding is quite the same game
that our children indulge in. Another game which is interesting to
watch is that known as _evanena_: in this two rows of players stand
facing each other at a distance of about a foot apart, and when they
are thus arranged each boy catches hold of the arm of the one facing,
and grips it below the elbow with one hand, and with the other he takes
a firm hold of his own arm with his disengaged hand, thus forming a
platform of human arms. A boy then gets up on to this platform and
runs forward. Immediately he has passed over the first pair they let
go of each other and run forward, and place themselves in front of
the others at the end of the row, thus making a continuous passage,
enabling a constant race to be kept up with the boy on the platform and
those forming it. Roars of laughter greet the youth who is fast enough
to reach the end of the platform before another lap is ready for him,
and if he succeeds in doing this he is a proud winner, but if, on the
{34} other hand, he stumbles and falls he is anything but a hero, and
becomes one of the figures of the platform, taking the place of one of
the end boys.
Many of the other games are rough, boyish imitations of the sacred
ceremonies which their elders conduct with such decorum. Of course they
are not true imitations, because many of these ceremonies are secret
and none but authorised natives are allowed to take part in them.
The girls have a few games of their own, but very seldom join in with
the boys. From their earliest days they are trained to work, and
playing is considered frivolous and unwomanly. One sees many more young
women paddling canoes than young men; the men prefer to play and watch
their sisters work. Chivalry is not a forte of theirs.
[Illustration 11: WOMAN WITH BABY IN BAG, FAIRFAX ISLAND, BRITISH NEW
GUINEA]
As soon as the girls are old enough they are initiated into the art of
pottery-making, cooking, and other domestic duties, but what they all
take most pleasure in is dancing. Their sole ambition in life seems to
be to excel in this art—and become wives; though the latter occupation
has few benefits, and, to the outsider who has studied the life of the
married women, marriage would seem a grievous calamity to be avoided
at all {35} costs—at least a Papuan one. The work of the married
women is most arduous, and their whole existence seems to be taken up
in waiting hand and foot on their loafing lords, bearing children, and
bringing them up. All the cares and worries of the precarious lives of
these natives seem to be thrown on to the shoulders of wives, who bear
it with a stolid philosophy that defies imitation.
One of the most remarkable things about the mother is her unique way
of carrying her child, a method totally different from that of any
other savage or civilised race. From its infancy the baby is put into
a sort of miniature hammock made of vegetable fibre, with a very fine
mesh, through which the little bundle of humanity can be seen kicking
merrily. When carrying the child, the ends of this hammock, which are
woven together and make a circle of the net, are placed over, and rest
on the mother’s head. Thus the baby hangs suspended in this arrangement
just below the woman’s breasts or over her back. It is a convenient
arrangement, for the mother is perfectly free to walk about and, if
necessary, work a little with her hands. As a rule, however, when she
is working she hangs her child up on one of the cross-beams of her
hut, and many can be seen thus suspended under the {36} verandah-like
shades of the roofs, when they look very much like cocoons.
This form of carrying a weight, however, is not peculiar to the Papuan,
as instances of it can be seen in Egypt. A native porter will often
suspend a heavy portmanteau by straps from the top of his head and jog
along serenely with it. Child-carrying in this way is, however, quite
original and is, I believe, only seen in New Guinea. The Maori method
of carrying them on their backs, wrapped in a shawl which the woman
crosses over her chest, is infinitely better in some respects, as it
enables her to do hard labour without any inconvenience.
One trait that is particularly noticeable among all the children of
savage races is their silent philosophy. No matter what happens these
babes remain serenely calm; they may be left for hours without food
or drink, they may be hung upside down, dropped, trodden on,—in fact,
any calamity may befall them,—but still they are silent. The only
difference that is evident is when they have been uncomfortable for
hours and are suddenly put right, when they resume their kicking, but
very soon even this form of exuberance subsides, and silence, unmoved
silence, is restored.
[Illustration 12: DINNER TIME AT KWATO, BRITISH NEW GUINEA]
{37}
CHAPTER IV
Concerning love and grief—How love is made in New Guinea, and some of
the charms used to ensure love and constancy—The grief of a New Guinea
widow.
To the marriageable young lady in civilised countries, leap year, and
with it her chance of proposing, comes but a few times before she
is “on the shelf,” but in some parts of New Guinea the proposal of
marriage always comes from the girl.
Some may think that this sort of love-making and marriage lacks
romance, but to the Papuan it is the event of his or her life. It is
in the hope of receiving a proposal that a man will go through endless
adventures; it is to win the admiration of some good buxom girl that
he risks his life head-hunting, and it is with pride and glory that he
glances at his string of skulls which hangs from the poles of his hut,
because he knows how brave the women will think him. {38}
It is for this same object that he studies the art of dancing, that he
cultivates his bushy hair (after he is married he often sells it) and
the fine, healthy glow of his skin. His lithe limbs also come in for a
deal of attention, and, as he struts proudly about, it is always with
the hope that his superior charms and manhood may bring him the love
and admiration of a young maiden.
When a Papuan boy comes of age an interesting ceremony takes place. At
about twelve years old, if he is of good stature, healthy and generally
fit, his parents think it is time to prepare him for marriage, or,
in their own language, make him _ibitoe_. The initial stage of this
ceremony is merely a form of introduction to youths of his own age
who are also _ibitoe_. In England more or less the same thing happens
when a girl “comes out.” She is then supposed to be on a footing with
“grown-ups,” and this is practically what happens to the youth of
British New Guinea. From the day of his “coming out” he occupies his
hours in pleasure-seeking and has a good time generally; this goes on
for a certain period and then he sallies forth alone into the bush to
make his drum. This drum-making is the most serious part of his “coming
out,” and is conducted with a deal of {39} formality and ceremony
which is quaintly mixed with superstition.
Drums seem to be the most important possession a young Papuan has; in
shape they are not unlike a golf bag on a somewhat larger scale. One
end is covered with lizard skin drawn taut and bound round the end
of the drum with fibre, leaving a frill below the binding; the other
end is open, and at about the centre the instrument narrows off and a
handle carved out of the wood protrudes. By this the drum is held when
being beaten.
The making of this musical instrument is an arduous task; it is hewn
out from a solid block of wood by means of the crudest instruments, the
hollow centre is made by burning it out with cinders of red-hot wood.
In order to manufacture one of these the young native retires into the
bush, cutting himself off from all intercourse with human beings. His
food is brought to him by his friends and left in some secret places
which are decided on before he takes his departure. This is done so
that the young man can secure it without catching sight of those who
bring it, for it is believed by the Papuan that if any human being sees
him, or is seen by him, during this period of _ibitoe_ that his drum
will {40} be spoiled, or that when it is completed it will sound as
if it were cracked. Many other curious superstitions relating to the
eating of certain foods are attached to this operation; for instance,
if a man who is _ibitoe_ eats food cooked in the wrong way, he will
grow fat and be a laughing-stock to the girls; whilst if he drinks
fresh water it will quench the fire with which he is trying to hollow
out his drum, and other things too numerous to mention will happen if
equally trifling details are not adhered to; but provided he comes
through this important time without any calamities, and completes his
drum to his own satisfaction, he steps forth from his seclusion to
conquer the heart of a maiden.
In the different tribes and parts of the country the customs relating
to love and matrimony vary. In some the young men waylay the girls
they admire, and endeavour, by force or persuasion, or the offering of
presents, to obtain their consent. This method often leads to amusing
incidents, as the girls have the privilege of scratching and fighting
their would-be lovers to any extent, and the lover may not retaliate,
or he would bring down upon his woolly head the anger of the girl’s
parents. {41}
Sweet music of a sensuous nature is often resorted to by the lovesick
swain, and, leaning against a tree, he will stand and play all day
long, hoping to attract the attention of his inamorata and bring from
her a proposal of marriage.
Tight-lacing and other forms of personal adornment are also indulged
in by these amorous youths, and a more ridiculous sight could not be
seen than a young native with his waist so strapped in as to form
an enormous, ugly bulge above and below his belt, but it is greatly
admired by the girls and shows he wants a wife badly.
In those parts of the western islands, already alluded to, where the
women propose, directly a girl falls in love with a man she makes him
a string armlet, which, according to Professor Haddon, she presents
to his sister or to one of his confidential friends. The confidential
friend bides her time, and when an opportunity arises she goes to the
man and says:
“I’ve got something for you.”
“Show it to me,” replies the young man if he is anxious.
This the friend does.
After learning the girl’s name, and being satisfied that he is not
throwing himself away, the youth {42} will accept the armlet and in
return make a present of two leglets to his fiancée.
Another custom in vogue is for the girl to send food for the young
man. At first on receiving it he is generally obstinate and refuses to
eat it, as he has no desire to be caught—or pretends he has none—but
really he is very proud that at last he has been noticed. The woman
understands all this and does not despair, but steadily pursues her
course, and day after day sends food to her lover, until her constancy
makes the parents of the young man feel satisfied that he is not being
led astray or fooled by a changeable woman. As soon as the parents feel
sure of this, they go to their son and command him to eat the food.
This is the signal which the girl’s friend has been wanting, and she
hurries to bear the news to the waiting girl, who immediately prepares
more food which she sends him. Now the critical time is past, and she
knows he will be allowed to see her.
All arrangements for the meeting are conducted by the go-between, and
when the young man is presented to her, she hands him fresh food which
he takes from her and eats. At this act of condescension great joy is
shown on both sides, and {43} the two lovers retire to the seclusion
of their hut, and without any further ceremony they become man and wife.
The divorce laws of New Guinea are similar to those of America, and a
man or woman can get a divorce on the slightest provocation—the general
cause is incompatibility of temper. Plurality of wives is allowed if a
man be rich enough to support more than one. The first one, however,
is chief amongst them all and her word is law; the last one acts as a
go-between; she carries the messages of number one to the others and
sees that they are properly attended to. If any of the wives refuse
to obey her, she and her husband are laughed at, as it is generally
considered that he has undertaken more than he can manage.
The following is an interesting sample of a missionary-taught, native
girl’s love-letter, or form of proposal. It was shown to Professor
Haddon when he was studying in those islands. The letter was written to
one Peter by name, whose own translation of it reads thus:—
“Peta, what do you say? I try you. My heart he like very bad for you.
You send me back a letter. Yes this talk belong me. Pita you Good-bye.
Me Magena.” {44}
Peter’s affirmative reply was:
“Magena I make you know. Me just the same, I want very bad for you. My
talk there. If you true like me, all right just the same; good for you,
good for me. Yes all right. Finish. You, Magena. Good-bye. Me Pita.”
The natives of New Guinea, like all other savage races, still have
their love charms, and when a man or maid fails to win the heart of the
one they love by ordinary methods, they try the sorcerer and, then, if
that love they are seeking for cannot be so obtained, their affection
turns to hate and a desire for revenge fills them, and they seek the
other’s death by resort to magic. There is a wonderful similarity in
human beings all over the world, be they white or black, savage or
civilised. But the extraordinary part of the magic in savage lands
is that it always works, and if men or women are properly cursed and
their death prophesied by the magician, they die, and in the way their
death has been foretold. The same strange superstition is noticeable
amongst the Maoris. I once was at the death-bed of an old chief, who
was supposed to be dying of typhoid, but the real cause of his death
was fear. In some way he had offended another chief, and that man had
him cursed by a Tohunga {45} or priest. I was unable to ascertain
exactly what he had done, but the result of it was that an image made
of clay, which was supposed to represent him, was placed in a creek,
and as the water washed away the figure, so the chief gradually sank;
and, when the last particle was softened by the slowly trickling water
and vanished down the stream, so that moment the soul of the old chief
passed over the border.
So strong is the superstition regarding these things that a man who is
cursed never dreams of attempting to overcome the disaster foretold
him; he simply goes home and dies, and it is in this way that this
particular superstition, and others like it, live. No one has the pluck
or the common sense to try and oppose their influence. In New Zealand
this kind of witchcraft is termed Tohunganism, and in spite of the
civilised condition of the Maoris of to-day, there are still cases of
death recorded and put down to it.
In the same certain way that death is brought about by a mental
process—cursing—so miraculous cures are effected, and Urio Moquru is
one of the most useful gods in New Guinea for this sort of thing. When
a person of importance falls sick, food is placed before this grotesque
image, and the friends {46} and relations beseech Urio to remove the
evil spirit from their beloved one. But should the god fail and the
sick one die, the natives do not lose faith in their god, but decide
that the patient was either too good to live, or so bad he had to die.
When death does visit a village there is a terrible time of mourning,
the women sit and cry round the death-bed all day, and in the streets
they can be seen squatting in corners moaning. You can meet women all
huddled up giving vent to the most despairing groans, and they look as
if they were literally wrapped up in grief; yet they may have never
cared a snap of the fingers for the dear departed. But it is the custom
for the women to mourn; and a more awful sight and sound than this
moaning cannot be heard. The men show very few signs of grief, and
evidently trust to their women-folk to do a double share.
When a woman loses her husband she goes into mourning and will on no
account be disturbed; for this rite her dress varies; certainly she
looks a terrible fright, and I’m not surprised at her shrinking from
public gaze. There is a special dress and general attire for this state
of grief. They shave their heads completely, cover themselves all over
with charcoal, and then put on long petticoats with {47} tassels of
seeds. They also cover their necks with necklaces and their arms with
trinkets. Having done all this they retire into a corner of their hut
and remain there, away from the gaze of the public, until their sorrow
is worn out or they are tired of being alone.
One thing noticeable is that, however loud their moaning is, however
hard they are crying, they will always stop to answer any question you
like to put to them about their “late lamented,” if you have courage
enough to beard them and refuse to go away. Then, as soon as you have
gained all the information you require, they will quickly resume
their tears as if nothing had happened to interrupt them. But this
is not unique to the savage of New Guinea. I have met with the same
extraordinary species of grief amongst the women of Great Britain,—it
is world-wide, this interruptable grief.
{48}
CHAPTER V
Some native dances and queer costumes—Novel blackmailing
methods—Woman’s vanity and a censured dance.
For some reason, unknown to the ordinary layman, the Church has taken a
dislike to nearly all forms of savage dancing, and many missionaries,
brave and good fellows though they be, have seen evil in these
performances where other less cultivated men have seen nothing that
suggests immorality. But often what appears immoral to the Western mind
is quite free from any such suggestion to the mind of the savage. I do
not say that these natives are paragons of virtue and morality, but in
deference to them it is only fair to say that they stick to their code
of morals, though it is not ours and may seem rather lax to us.
[Illustration 13: A KAIVAKUKU, RORO TRIBE, CENTRAL DIVISION, BRITISH
NEW GUINEA]
Owing no doubt to the missionaries disliking certain dances, the
natives are now very shy about permitting a white man to witness
them; some, however, can still be seen, and these I will try {49}
to describe. There are several different dances in New Guinea,
all distinct in their movements, in the costumes worn at them, and the
music accompanying them; there are the war dances, the marriage dances,
the fishing, festival and agricultural dances, and for all these the
costumes vary, some of them being unique, for there is no island in the
world which can rival its assortment of ceremonial regalia. In some of
the dances the women are most strangely attired, whilst in others the
grotesque costumes of the men are startling.
When the fish dance, or any other semi-religious dance is to be held
the men wear masks, for the making of which they are famous, and then
the performance is indeed weird. In the Mekko district, south-east of
Port Moresby, most elaborate masks of hideous design cover the heads
of the dancers, whilst their bodies are concealed by capes which are
nearly two feet thick and cover the wearer completely, leaving only
the lower part of the legs visible, and these, in contrast to the bulk
above, look strangely thin and out of place. The heat and weight of
these costumes must be enormous, but the natives would undergo any
discomfort rather than be without them.
The masks, which vary in shape and size, are {50} generally not
shorter than three or four feet, and occasionally they run to six or
seven. They are held in position on the man’s head by a cross-bar
which he grips between his teeth, and they are constructed on canework
frames, and shaped like an enormous hock bottle. A thin bark covering
is stretched over the frame, which is then completely smeared with
white lime, and a hideous face is generally worked or painted on the
front of it, with the mouth and eyes enormously big and distorted. When
one considers that these masks and their attendant costumes are also
used for blackmailing dances their thorough ugliness is warranted.
Blackmailing is a favourite pastime, and when they are intent on it
they don their ugliest masks and steal round to the hut of the man or
woman from whom they wish to extort money, or frighten, and in the dim
moonlight begin a weird and unearthly dance accompanied by horrible
noises, which they continue until the desired effect has been obtained,
and the man is frightened out of his wits and ready to agree to his
assailant’s proposals. This dance is closely allied to the dook-dook
dance of New Britain. In New Guinea when the mask and cape are worn
the steps of the dance are slow, and the movements are supposed to be
majestic and {51} awe-inspiring, making the performances more
like stately processions than dances. One of the most interesting of
these is the festival dance for a successful agricultural season. It
is considered a kind of prayer to the gods of agriculture, and it
generally takes place once a year and is conducted by different tribes
on each anniversary.
[Illustration 14: HARVEST DANCE, NEW GUINEA
When the yams and bananas are ripe, the natives hold a celebration,
in which as a rule men dance in close formation with the girls on the
flanks. Occasionally a girl edges her way in and takes the arm of a
man, as is seen in the illustration, where the red head-dresses are
those of women. The white plumes of the men denote that they have
slain an enemy in single combat. The streamers down the back of the
man on the left are those of his head fillet. Behind the dancers are
the bananas suspended on a scaffold. The celebration takes place in
the summer.]
The dancing ground having been picked, the villagers squat by their
huts, or form a large ring on the ground, and then when all is ready a
troop of men strangely dressed, each carrying his drum, comes prancing
on to the ground.
From the back of their heads long waving strings, made of leaves, are
hung, flying out behind them and touching the ground. Their woolly hair
is gaily festooned with bright-coloured feathers, white and red, pure
white, pure red, and reddish brown and green; and above these there is
often a brilliant red cockade which stands straight up.
Armlets adorn their arms, and a narrow belt with a scanty attachment
suffices for the covering of the lower part of their bodies. Long
streamers of palm leaves hang, in some cases, from both armlets
and leglets. Their drums are also gaily decorated with strings and
streamers.
On arrival on the ground they form up in rows {52} and begin a
peculiar crouching movement by bending their knees and rising on toe
and heel, to the accompaniment of a monotonous dull thumping on the
drums. Every now and then a different beat is sounded, and instantly
the men change their positions. Whilst this peculiar shuffling
movement is going on a crowd of girls appears and begin to dance in
and out among the men, and then vanish again almost as quickly as they
appeared. Their costumes are equally quaint, the chief adornment being
a mat hung round their waists and open on one side. The remaining
portions of their bodies are nude, with the exception of necklaces and
curious feather adornments on their heads.
Fine creatures some of them are, and as they prance about in striking
attitudes, dodging in and out of the rows of men, swaying their skirts
backwards and forwards, they present a fascinating picture and, as
they warm to the dance, the continued shuffling movements of the men,
the swirling of the women’s skirts, their swaying bodies, and glimpses
of elaborately tattooed legs, and the measured beating of the drums,
the only sound that breaks the silence, a giddiness steals over the
spectators and a weird feeling of monotony takes hold of them.
[Illustration 15: READY FOR THE DUBU DANCE]
{53}
Then suddenly the whole scene will change, the girls, who a few seconds
before were swirling round the men, vanish, the drumming ceases, the
long rows are broken up, and the men too disappear, leaving only the
crowd of eager spectators who remain gazing at nothing.
A wonder comes into one’s mind if it is all a dream, for throughout the
whole dance no sound has escaped the performers, and the silence and
the half-darkness produce a scene of peculiar uncanniness. But soon
all is movement again and other performances have to be gone through.
New figures are introduced as in our round dances, but there seem to
be no set places for the girls; they appear and dance independently in
and out of the rows of men as if to show off their fine figures, their
beautiful skins, and bewitching ways, some dancing and acting more or
less demurely, whilst others throw themselves about with an abandonment
and coyness that it would take a most practised Western flirt to excel.
Every attitude and every movement seem to be accompanied by an action
of the apron or skirt, which is swerving with a perfect rhythm
backwards and forwards, or from side to side. But this is not the
women’s dance, they are merely adjuncts to the performance and use
their admission to it more for {54} love-making than anything else.
Their real dance comes later when they mount the Dubu, and this is
the dance so strongly objected to by the missionaries, but, strange
to say, the natives themselves seem to take very little interest in
it; they call it “the dance belong women”; and were it such an immoral
proceeding, surely the men would crowd to see it.
The ordinary Dubu is a rough platform about four feet high and built
upon stout piles. More elaborate ones are to be seen in some districts,
and these are decorated with weird designs and strange carvings, with
flanges reaching out right and left and long beams carved like gigantic
bullocks’ horns and decorated with gaudy tassels that add a quaintness
to them; they stand some ten feet off the ground, whilst others have
posts rising fifteen feet above the ground and ending in a half-moon
design, but these bigger ones are not used for the girls to dance on,
but are kept for ceremonial purposes.
[Illustration 16: THE DUBU AT RIGO, BRITISH NEW GUINEA]
A score of girls, dressed up to the nines in their twine skirts
(reaching about as far down as a Parisian ballet girl’s dancing
costume) and completely tattooed, suddenly begin prancing through the
village, swinging in their hands a long string at the end of which is a
ball. By practised movements {55} they make it curve in grotesque
shapes around their bodies, and all the time this is going on they are
swinging their skirts backwards and forwards by a peculiar movement
of their bodies, from their waists. This extraordinary performance
of pirouetting maidens goes on for some time to the accompaniment of
drums. Then, at a given signal, they mount the Dubu and discard their
skirts, and stand unadorned before the spectators who, as I said
before, are nearly all women. Then married women anoint them, whilst
others bring them baskets of areca nuts and yams. The yams they cut
up in pieces, and whilst doing so go through graceful movements which
display their figures to the best advantage. Then suddenly, at another
given signal, they start pelting the onlookers with the nuts, which are
scrambled for by the women amid laughter and screams of delight; they
are like children at a fair, and almost as simple. When all the nuts
are finished the girls slip on their skirts and jump down, and so ends
this, the most terrible dance of the modest maids of Papua. There is
another famous dance which takes place on the departure of the Lakatois
for the annual trading expedition up the Gulf.
Professor Haddon, in his book the _Head Hunters_, relates an amusing
thing he saw at Veifaa, {56} of which this dress incident reminds me.
He says that though the natives in this place are never seen in any but
native costume, the missionaries have insisted on the women wearing
calico gowns whilst attending divine service, and it was an amusing
sight, he continues, to see the girls and women arriving at the church,
for—on entering the courtyard—they pulled these European costumes over
their half-nude bodies; but it was still more comic to see the way they
pulled themselves out of them directly the service was over. He adds,
that in spite of their scant clothes and the above peculiarity, the
women are extremely modest.
Tattooing cannot be said to be as general in New Guinea as in many
other places, but in some districts the women are particularly well
tattooed, the whole of the upper part of their bodies being completely
covered with intricate designs. The methods of making the patterns
vary, but as a rule, the woman lies on the ground whilst two others
work them out with a stick dipped in burnt resin. When the whole
is finished it is pricked in by means of a sharp thorn attached to
a stick and bound tightly to it with fibre. Most of the women have
extraordinary designs on their thighs, which they make a point of
showing when they are dancing.
[Illustration 17: TATTOOING, BRITISH NEW GUINEA]
{57}
CHAPTER VI
Outrigger canoes, their appearance and construction—The famous
Lakatois—How the natives catch their fish; and a few words about fish
that climb trees—A trip down the coast, and an unpleasant experience.
If you can imagine a cloudless sky of a deep blue colour, a sea so
smooth that not a ripple is visible, and so clear that you can look
down into it and see the dark rocks and the sandy bottom and strangely
shaped fish swimming idly about amongst bushes of seaweed, which wave
and curl with the ebb of the tide; and floating masses of jelly which
occasionally double themselves into balls and then become floating
masses again. If you can picture all this you will have an idea how
clear the waters of the South Seas are when the sky is cloudless. The
hot sun is overhead, and the still air is full of a sweet fragrance.
Just above you you will see a frigate bird sailing lazily about, and by
the sea shore just a faint ripple and a line of white show {58} you
quaint and picturesque canoes—not the ordinary mere dug-out things
which are so narrow in body that there is only room for a medium-sized
man to sit, but long curiously shaped ones with poles stretching across
and extended far out over the side; they are slightly arched, and at
the end there is a log which rests in the water and lies parallel to
the boat.
These outriggers are queer constructions, but no sea can upset a boat
possessing them, and with the light shining full on the bright skins of
their half-naked occupants, they look still more eccentric. To see a
dozen of these queer craft being swiftly paddled through the water by
men with bushy heads and fine massive bodies, and women more nude than
dressed, but with their hair cropped close to their skulls, is not a
sight to be seen everywhere, and well repays all the thousand little
disadvantages that journeying to these parts entails.
[Illustration 18: LARGE TRADING CANOES, BRITISH NEW GUINEA]
There is a safety in an outrigger canoe that one cannot feel in
ordinary native boats. There is not the same swift movement that one
experiences when skimming through the water rowed by a half-dozen
muscular Maoris in their light-built canoes, or flying down rapids
in a Canadian canoe, but in {59} place of it there is the calm
repose of absolute security, and at times this latter condition is not
to be scorned, especially when every moment you can see the fin of a
shark rise out of the water. Clumsy looking as these boats are, it is
wonderful what complete control the natives have over them, how swiftly
they swing them round or skim them between dangerous rocks, and dash
over the surf through waves that would swamp and capsize an average
lifeboat. These irresponsible creatures paddle on through the worst of
waters, laughing at the spray as it breaks over them, and shouting with
glee as they mount the great waves, which carry them high and dry on to
the shore.
Then the stately Lakatois with their queer-shaped sails, looking as
unlike sails as the body of a boat is unlike a canoe. They resemble an
elongated kite with a semicircle cut out of the top, and if you saw one
for the first time coming towards you on a dark night, it would give
you a fright, so grotesque and weird is it. In daylight, however, its
horrors disappear and the ingeniousness of its construction appeals to
you; after watching it sailing placidly out to sea, steered as easily
as any yacht, a feeling of admiration for the savage inventor of it
comes over you. {60}
To explain its construction would be a task too difficult for me, but,
roughly, it consists of two or three large canoes lashed together and
boarded over. On these boards is a kind of barn cut down and spread out
considerably. This is used both for shelter and for carrying the pots
and articles of barter. From the centre of this raft-like barge the two
enormous sails project straight into the air; the two horn-like points
of the top are decorated with long streamers; whilst others ornament
the sails, making it look like a carnival barge. How the wind is caught
or how the boats are moved about is a mystery to any but those who
work them; if you ask a native he will explain it all to you: “He good
fellow belong salt water, go easy.” And that is as much information as
I can give. So with this vivid, though somewhat technical description
of how the boat travels, you too must be satisfied, and look rather at
its beauty than its ways of working.
[Illustration 19: OLD WOMEN MAKING POTTERY, BRITISH NEW GUINEA]
The method of building canoes in these parts is interesting. A log of
soft wood is obtained from an up-country tribe in exchange for fish or
some other produce, and its outside is shaped by means of an ordinary
English axe, while the inside is hewn out with the native stone adzes.
These {61} they still prefer for delicate work, though they often
attach the head of them to an ordinary axe handle. When a sufficiently
deep hollow is made, the native lights a fire in it and works it about
until the rough edges are smoothed down and other faults are rectified.
Firing is also used to finish the outside, and if the fire goes out, or
anything but a perfect result is finally obtained, they put the cause
of it down to some accident, or wrong action which they have done in
their youth. Nearly all their calamities are thus explained.
The small canoes when finished often have the outriggers completely
boarded over, thus turning them into big rafts, and making them capable
of carrying enormous quantities of barter; for it is by boat they carry
their goods from village to village along the coast. The Lakatois are
always used for long trips, and carry big crews, being often loaded
to their full carrying capacity. When leaving Port Moresby for these
periodical trips they carry pottery and exchange it for sago and other
food.
The pottery industry flourishes at Port Moresby, and at most times
it is possible to see the women at work. Men never assist them in
this industry; generally very thin old hags seem {62} to superintend
all the most difficult part of the work. The clay used for it is, I
believe, a natural clay brought down from the interior and exchanged
for some other article. Instead of using a pottery wheel, each pot
is literally built up from the inside and rounded with a stick or by
hand—the sphere getting larger and larger, whilst the inside, towards
the top, gets smaller. When finished a fire is lit and stones built up
over it, and directly the right heat is obtained, the newly made pot is
placed on them and baked.
Nearly all the cooking is done in these contrivances, and they seem
capable of standing any heat as well as a good deal of rough usage.
Sago, yams, bananas, sweet potatoes, cocoa-nuts, and fish are the
staple foods which the New Guinea natives fatten on. The fish is often
smoked and cooked in the earthenware pots or eaten raw. The method of
smoking it varies, but generally it is roughly done in a hut.
Owing to the extensive coral reefs all round these islands, fishing by
means of nets is a difficult task, and one that does not often pay, as
they get torn to pieces on the reefs. Line fishing suffers from the
same disadvantage, so that when a big haul of ground fish is wanted
a method introduced by the {63} traders is adopted—fishing with
dynamite. This sounds somewhat peculiar, but it is most effective.
[Illustration 20: SPEARING FISH, BRITISH NEW GUINEA]
Directly a shoal of fish is seen a charge of dynamite is exploded in
the water, which has a most disastrous effect on the fish, as it stuns
all within a tremendous distance of the discharge. Boats are then run
out, and with the aid of the natives the unconscious fish are picked up
and thrown into them.
The Papuans thoroughly enjoy the sport, and dive and swim after the
floating things with great glee, laughing, and the shouting and
splashing as they swim through the water with a fish in their mouth and
one in each hand, is tremendous. On reaching the boat they throw them
in and are away again as quick as lightning after more.
Spearing is another method the natives have, for which purpose they
erect platforms in the water. The fisher will stand on this platform
with a long spear in his hand attached to which is a long thin cord.
Holding the spear in the air, ready to throw, he waits like a statue
till his eyes catch sight of a big fish in the clear waters beneath.
Then suddenly you see the spear fly from his hand, and the next minute
he is yelling {64} with delight and hauling in a struggling fish at
the end of his spear.
The young natives are also fond of shooting fish, and go off in parties
armed with bows and arrows, seldom returning without a good bag.
One often hears extraordinary tales of fishermen, and perhaps there is
none better than the one told by Jerome K. Jerome of the plaster cast
that every one claimed to have caught, but even this has to take a back
seat when you are first told that a man has seen fish climbing trees.
But in spite of the apparent tallness of such a yarn it is nevertheless
true. In New Guinea these piscatorical gymnasts can be seen, and Mr.
Hardy, when visiting Tupusuli (one of the most unique marine villages
in New Guinea, lying a few hours’ sail south of Port Moresby), had the
pleasure of seeing these fish at their exercises.
[Illustration 21: MARINE VILLAGE, TUPUSULI, BRITISH NEW GUINEA]
The trip was an interesting one and worth relating. At the invitation
of the Rev. Dr. Brown, whose missionary work in these parts is well
known, Mr. Hardy accompanied him on a trip down the coast to Tupusuli.
Among the doctor’s guests were Dr. Wyllie who was out there on
scientific work, Prof. von Yost, a German journalist who at certain
times claimed direct relationship to {65} Bismarck, and a few
others who also can verify the following, as they too were among the
party. It was a jolly expedition, and the yacht, which belonged to Dr.
Chalmers the head of the missionaries in New Guinea, was captained by a
Raratongan chief who was noted for his enormous strength. The scenery
along the coast is wild and broken; here and there little villages
backed by palm groves can be seen, and natives running about on the
shore add to the beauty of the scene.
Tupusuli lies in a little bay, and is protected from intrusion by coral
reefs and mud-banks, but the yacht safely manœuvred these, and then the
village came in sight. At low tide it looks extremely weird, as some
of the huts are built on very high piles a considerable distance from
the shore, right out in the mud. The village proper is also completely
surrounded by water at high tide; behind it is a row of splendid palms,
and a broad street dividing some huts where the men are generally seen
canoe-making. As the tide was out when the yacht anchored, the party
had to be taken off in the gig and landed on the nearest mud-bank, from
which they waded into the village.
On the way they passed a clump of mangroves, partly surrounded by
water, and it was here these {66} quaint little fishes were seen
climbing up the bark of the mangoes. In appearance they look like a
very small mackerel, though the head is rounder and more nobby, and
from the breast two little legs, like those of a caterpillar, protrude.
The tail and fins are exactly the same as those of other small fish.
They seemed very shy, and on the approach of the strangers they
scuttled down the trunk and sprang back into a pool of water at the
foot of the tree, and nothing would induce them to show up again. Here
at Tupusuli are the ruins of an old Dubu house, which looks as if it
had been an exceedingly large one.
[Illustration 22: NATIVES OF THE NEW HEBRIDES HAVING A DRINK]
After examining the canoes and many of the houses the party made their
way back to the gig, and as the tide was now in they had not far to
walk. On reaching the yacht, however, it was found that the anchor
had got jammed, and as the wind was blowing pretty hard and the tide
running in, the captain feared that they would go aground on a very
nasty reef unless they got away quickly. All hands were brought to
bear on the chain, but to their horror they found that their pulling
was of no avail; all the time the yacht was swinging round and getting
dangerously near the reef. Suddenly from the shore a dozen canoes were
seen coming out {67} full pelt. The natives had guessed what
was wrong and were rowing out to help. Soon the water was black with
canoes, and the shouts of the natives were almost deafening. At last
they were alongside, and one standing in the bow of his boat looked
up at our captain. “Me fix him, captain, you get anchor all right,”
he shouted, and the next instant he had dived head foremost under the
yacht. No sooner was he out of sight than another followed, and so on
till the water was in a regular foam with diving and swimming natives,
there must have been dozens of them, whilst crowds of others hung round
in their canoes anxiously watching for their comrades to come up and
report progress. As each woolly pate shot out of the water the watchers
called out questions, but without answering they dived again—they had
only come up for breath—and neither the party nor the natives were able
to find out what was wrong. After nearly ten minutes’ work they all
came up, and their disappointed faces told the tale. It was no good,
the anchor was completely jammed, and in spite of all their efforts
these good fellows could do nothing.
To save the yacht from grounding the chain had to be cut, and shortly
after that the yacht rode out {68} of the bay clear of the rocks, amid
the cheers of the natives.
Jamming of anchors in these parts is not an uncommon experience, and
to avoid losing them many skippers carry a charge of dynamite about
with them, which they slide down the anchor chain at the end of a piece
of slack rope. If the charge is timed properly and all goes well, the
coral, between which the anchor is fixed, is blown to smithereens.
Some skippers, however, have had any but pleasant results from this
experiment, and have not only lost their anchor but considerably
damaged their boats.
{69}
PART II
THE SOLOMON ISLANDS
{71}