of high hills, with a splendid harbor front. These hills are so steep
that stairways and cable lines figure largely as utilities by which
residents reach their homes. One misses the convenient squares and
parks found in other centers in that part of the world, but the
absence of these here is accounted for by lack of room, as the space
between the butts of the hills and the docks is limited even for
business purposes. Some distance from the business center, however, is
a good botanical garden, and in another direction are creditable
parks, with sports grounds included, which enable the capital to make
a fair showing in this particular.
Most of the dwellings are of wood, and rents are, like the hills
surrounding the city, high. The weekly system of paying bills is
customary here. Some of these homes, for which $25 and $35 a month
rent is paid, are difficult to reach, even after one has alighted from
a cable car. Rents are higher in Wellington than in any city of
Australasia. Wages, too, are comparatively low. Laborers receive no
more than in cities where rent is much cheaper. Mechanics receive
about $3 a day.
One cannot but observe the trend of industrial advancement in almost
every quarter of the globe visited. It is a very dull place, indeed,
where houses or buildings of some sort are not under course of
construction. In Wellington the sound of hammer and saw is heard in
valleys and on hillsides miles away from the city. Landlords squeezed
their tenants so hard that the government was finally induced to help
the citizens by advancing money with which to build homes on sites
some distance from the capital.
Arbitration courts fix wages, but that system of settling disputes
between employer and employe works out better in theory than in
practice, judging from the number of strikes that so frequently take
place. Anyway, one clause of this law is very effective--if a man
works for an employer for a less wage than had been fixed by the
court, both employer and employe are fined.
Double-decked street cars are in use in Wellington, as in cities of
the South Island. A few cars run on Sunday up to 2 o'clock in the
afternoon. The fare up to that hour being 12 cents, persons going to
and from church might have reason to pinch on the contribution to make
up for excessive street-car charges. The custom is hard to explain.
Certainly, it is too far to walk from some of the valleys to the city,
but, as a limited number of cars are run for the convenience of
churchgoers, why this overcharge? It is possible church-going people
have a Sunday commutation ticket; if so, non-churchgoers who patronize
the cars would pay the freight.
Gas costs $1.80 a thousand feet here. A private company controls this
commodity.
Wellington, with a population of 75,000, is the chief seaport of New
Zealand. In addition to being located in the center of the two
islands, its good, land-locked harbor, deep enough to admit vessels of
great draught, adds greatly to its commercial prestige. Big vessels
plying between England and New Zealand dock and start from here.
Meat is no dearer than in other New Zealand cities--6 to 12 cents a
pound. Telegraph messages cost but 12 cents for 12 words.
The government pays pensions to citizens who have reached the age of
65 years and whose incomes do not exceed $240 a year. This rate is the
same as is paid in Australia--$2.40 a week each to husband and wife.
The Town Hall, with other municipal and business buildings, is a
creditable one, and its auditorium and balconies are packed with
people who attend the Sunday evening concerts, furnished by the city,
which do not begin until church services are over. A good museum is
another attraction. Little in favor of the streets can be said,
however, for they are poorly laid out and are not kept as tidy as
those in other cities.
Newspapers are well up to the mark for the size of the city, and had
I been short of funds, I could have kept my head above water, as I was
offered work here.
The standard of law and order maintained in the Island Dominion may be
inferred when it is mentioned that there are no keys to doors in some
hotels. When shown to a room at one place the absence of a key was
brought to the attention of the clerk. "There are no keys to any of
the rooms," he explained, in a matter-of-fact manner. Notwithstanding
high rents and the high price of gas, hotel expenses were only $1.20 a
day.
Pelorus Jack, the pilot fish, lives on the other side of Cook's
Straits from Wellington. Like the kea bird and the kiwi, he is in a
class by himself--the most remarkable fish in the world. He is perhaps
the only pilot that ever lived who knows nothing about the science of
navigation. Pelorus Jack belongs to the dolphin family. His length is
about 14 feet, and he is bluish-white in color. His home is in Pelorus
Sound, and the channel from that body of water to Nelson is very
tortuous. Where the channel becomes dangerous for ships, Jack will be
found, waiting. When a vessel reaches the mouth of the channel, the
dolphin sallies forth, faithfully following the curves of the route,
and the ship is steered in accordance with his trail. Outgoing vessels
are also met by this remarkable fish, who precedes the ship until it
has reached safe water. The Maoris aver that Jack has lived in these
parts for generations, and in their eyes he is an ocean god. An act of
Parliament was passed in 1904 protecting all fish of that species in
New Zealand waters. As Jack is probably the only fish of his sort
living in Cook's Straits, he enjoys the exclusive protection of the
legislative decree.
CHAPTER II
Traveling up a steep grade from Wellington, and then down the mountain
on the other side of the range, the train pulled away from the coast
and headed northward, speeding over the trunk line between the capital
and Auckland. Passing through tidy towns, then over trestles spanning
rippling streams, through bushy glens, ornamented with attractive fern
trees--queen of flora here--which have no superior as a natural
adornment, we entered stretches of lava wakes, covered with a bracken
growth. To the right, Mount Ruapehu, 9,000 feet high, with its
snow-capped summit, came to view; then Mounts Ngauruhoe and Tongariro,
lower mountains than Ruapehu, appear. We next came to the King
country--Maoriland; later a stop was made at Francton Junction, where
a change of cars was made, and then headed for Rotorua, the main
attraction of the thermal district of New Zealand.
Rotorua is a place where people come on crutches and leaning on
walking sticks, and a great number of these, on taking their departure
from the sulphur laden air of that district, leave their crutches and
walking-sticks behind.
The New Zealand government owns this part of Geyserland, and too much
credit cannot be given for the splendid place that has been made out
of what was formerly a lava-bestrewn stretch of land on the shore of
the blue waters of Lake Rotorua. Broad streets, shaded with beautiful
avenues of trees; electric lights, gardens and parks, handsome bath
buildings, grounds for light sports and free music every day, are some
good things the government furnishes. Board can be had for from $5 to
$7 a week, and sulphur baths--the water boiling out of the
ground--cost only 12 cents, including a towel. The Rotorua wells have
proved heaven-sent blessings to many an afflicted soul. After taking
a few baths the flesh assumes a velvety softness.
It was a pleasure to note the improvement in the condition of a
crippled person who had reached Rotorua on crutches. In a few days one
crutch sufficed; in a similar time that crutch had been discarded; a
walking stick next answered the purpose of support, and, finally, with
a beaming face and a buoyant heart, that same person, whose legs had
been distorted for years from rheumatism or some other cause, could be
seen walking about the pretty lawns or shaded streets, unsupported by
either stick or crutch, with bright eyes and a radiant countenance, at
peace with all mankind, and prepared to face the battle of life again
with limber limbs and a grateful heart.
The geysers of Rotorua--real high spouters--cannot compare with those
of Yellowstone Park. From the shore of the lake, for half a mile back,
the ground was marked at close spaces with gurgling, bubbling and
steaming wells, and a strong sulphurous smell is nearly always
present. One feature of that section of Geyserland, however, surpasses
any of Yellowstone--a large mud pool, called Tikitere. It is really a
volcano, and the furious, boiling, bursting, smoking pond of sulphuric
mud commands unusual attention.
Half a dozen lakes are linked together, each from five to twelve miles
in length, the sides heavily verdured with an evergreen growth, and
high hills rising in every direction, making the trip through the
lakes very interesting. One of these, Rotomahana, is a boiling body of
water. Launches travel through this steam-laden lake with as apparent
safety and comfort as through normal waters. The shores contain
numerous and deep fissures, steam coming from these openings in great
clouds. Both lake and shores present a scene like that after a big
fire, when nothing but smoke remains.
A small Pompeii is among the attractions of this thermal district. The
place is known as Te Wairoa, and was overwhelmed in 1886 by heavy
showers of mud and volcanic ash ejected from the volcano Tarawera.
Over a hundred natives and four Europeans were buried under the mud
and lava. The ruins of the settlement--buildings, wagons and other
evidences of habitation--are yet to be seen. Ashes and cinders ejected
from the volcano at that time were carried for a distance of 60 miles.
At Whakarewarewa, a short distance from Rotorua, is where the greatest
subterranean disturbance takes place. Quite a number of geysers are
located at that center, but none of the high-spouters were "working."
The "crack" or "show" geyser of that basin is Wairo. It seems to have
imbibed the easy-going spirit of the Maoris, for it will "work" only
on State occasions. For instance, if the governor-general of New
Zealand were to visit Rotorua, and later "Whaka," as that long name is
called for short, Wairo would be set to "working." The geyser is
coaxed into action by throwing quantities of soap into the well.
Visitors would willingly contribute money to buy soap to set Wairo
working, but as the geyser is covered with heavy planks, a prison cell
would be the reward of a person tampering with the pet "spouter." It
is said that water is forced to a height of 100 feet when Wairo gets
into harness.
Vegetation suffers when coming in contact with the outpourings of the
Yellowstone geysers, while about Rotorua the steam and sulphuric
atmosphere from the steaming wells does not seem to interfere with the
growth of flora. Jewelry and silver and gold coins become black while
visiting that district, the sulphur in the air having this effect on
metal.
Guides showing visitors about that district are Maori women, the price
for their services being fixed by the government, together with launch
charges for sails on the lakes. It is a good system, for one then
knows beforehand how much money a trip will cost.
New Zealand, unlike Australia, is rife with battle cries, war songs
and narratives of native bravery. Most of the trouble had its
inception from land-grabbing by white men, and they have succeeded
well, although the natives' domain is still large. Like most natives,
the Maori is not blessed with a great amount of ambition, and his
needs are common and small, being favored with a good climate, as the
weather in the North Island is moderate the year round.
The Maori is not a native of New Zealand, but what race of people
inhabited that country previous to his settlement history does not
record. It is safe to presume he killed off the aborigines, as he
would not brook much interference from an inferior race. The Maori is
the Polynesian, and in 1350 he paddled and rowed in canoes across a
stretch of sea for a distance of 1,700 miles--from the island of
Raratonga, one of the Cook group, to New Zealand. From that time until
New Zealand's gradual settlement he held undisputed sway. In color he
is similar to an American Indian, and is inclined to fleshiness.
New Zealanders are very proud of the Maori. While of a warring race,
he is not a criminal. He can be made a friend--can be trusted.
Intermarriages take place frequently, and it is said the white party
to the transaction meets with no social discrimination. Civilization
has proved detrimental to them, as with most natives, however, and is
diminishing their numbers from time to time. Consumption is decimating
them fast.
It was interesting to watch Maori women, with their babes on their
backs, cooking food and baking bread by the heat from boiling springs,
so numerous about the shores of Lake Rotorua. A board box, large
enough to admit a kettle, is placed in a well, and an iron grating put
at the bottom to rest it on. Meat, fish, vegetables or anything to be
cooked is put in the kettle. A blanket is placed over this to keep the
steam from escaping. When the food is cooked, the kettle is taken out
and the meal served. Dough is placed in them also, and the bread is
well baked. Dried shark meat is much eaten by Maoris.
Like all South Sea Islanders, he is fond of the water, indulging in
bathing, swimming and aquatic sports. The Maori still maintains the
skill with large canoes that enabled his forefathers to paddle 1,700
miles over the Pacific, from Raratonga to New Zealand.
Tattooing is a very noticeable custom of these people. Women are
tattooed more generally than men. It used to be the other way. When
the custom began to die out with the men, the women took it up, and
it is they who keep it alive. The marks are made by a dark blue
liquid--the sap of a certain tree. The forehead and chin are the
places where the marks are mostly made. Tattooing does not improve the
women's looks, but they will not allow old fashions to die out. The
woman is generally the man's master.
Maoris are a proud and independent race, considering themselves on an
equal with the white man. In order that their "equality" may be
maintained, they will not act as servants of the white race. One could
not induce a Maori girl to do housework for a European for any wage,
neither would a Maori boy black a white man's shoes. They have a vote
on any measure affecting their interest, but Dominion suffrage ends
there. Four Maoris represent their race in Parliament. The immigration
laws of this country practically prohibiting, by a high tax, Asiatic
and all other black and colored races from entering, the Maori is the
only colored inhabitant in New Zealand.
Any land Maoris sell must be sold to the government and disposed of as
it sees fit. The government forwards to the natives the interest on
the principal from these sales when they are in need of funds. They
prefer to work in the sheep-shearing period, which lasts a month to
six weeks, during which they can earn from $8 to $10 a day. As a rule,
they do not want a steady job.
Native women wear a charm, called tiki--a flat, green stone, one to
three inches in width and from two to four inches in length. It is a
weird image, carved in the stone, having a big, lop-sided head and
unevenly shaped body. This ornament is worn on their chest. A small
hole is bored in the top of the tiki, through which a string is
passed, and, when the ends are tied, the loop is placed around the
neck.
Many Maori women smoke pipes. They are a religious race, and before
entering a church they lift the pipes from their mouths and place them
on a railing or a step outside. When the service is finished, each
one, on leaving the building, stoops and picks up her pipe, lights it,
and heads for her home.
[Illustration: MAORI WOMEN'S SALUTE--RUBBING NOSES AND SHAKING HANDS.
NEW ZEALAND.
See page 195.]
[Illustration: MAORI WOMEN COOKING BY BOILING SPRINGS.
NEW ZEALAND.
See page 193.]
Homeless white babies and children need not be a charge on a
municipality where there is a Maori settlement. Natives will take all
the white foundlings that are offered them. As they are an honest
race, white children are not only well looked after, but are taught
good principles also.
Rubbing noses and shaking hands is the mode of greeting when Maori
meets Maori, and their offspring learn that custom early. As a mother,
carrying her child on her back, bends to "burnish" noses with a
friend, the children seem to lean to one side and watch their mammas
carry out this old Maori mode of greeting.
Pakeha is the native word for white people, and when white persons
speak of native and white, pakeha and native are the distinguishing
terms used.
Visitors to Rotorua are afforded much amusement by native dances and
hakas. Women engage in the poi dance, which is a series of motions,
gone through to the accompaniment of a concertina. In the hands of
each woman is a ball of grass as large as a peach, with a grass string
attached. Time is kept with these as they come in contact with the
other hand, and when a dozen strike in unison a shuffling sound
results. The grass or flax ball is termed the poi. Men only take part
in the haka, which is a war dance, and a good one, too. An extended
account of the Maori and his customs would make interesting reading.
They number less than 50,000.
Kaikai is the name they give to food in New Zealand. Grub, scoff,
tucker, and kaikai is the collection of food names to this point.
We now take leave of this pretty place, where crutches,
walking-sticks, and invalid chairs are converted into kindling wood;
where pain evaporates with the sulphurous odors, and men are made anew
by bathing in that far-off pool of Siloam--where, as Langhorne so
beautifully puts it,
"Affliction flies, and hope returns,"
and start for Auckland.
Auckland is the largest city in New Zealand, having a population of
85,000, and was the busiest we had visited. This is another
leg-straining place, but not so hilly as Dunedin or Wellington. Ships
from the South Sea Islands are arriving and departing continually, as
Auckland has a big trade with these groups. Most of the shipping
between Australia and New Zealand passes through Auckland; many large
steamships from Europe also head for this port.
The rosy-cheeked women and children and the healthy appearance of New
Zealanders generally is a feature one cannot fail to observe. Besides,
there are few poor people--none wearing ragged clothes,
certainly--every one tidy in appearance and well dressed. Few
foreign-speaking people live in Auckland--90 per cent, are
Britishers--and all have a fair education. Schooling advantages are
good.
The city is well supplied with parks; also a splendid museum and an
art gallery are among the assets of that busy, far-off place.
Auckland's street car system is the only one privately owned in New
Zealand. Unlike Melbourne's, though, it is fast and modern.
The winter climate of Auckland proves a magnet to those living in
colder parts of the Dominion. It is semi-tropical and has an
invigorating atmosphere.
The dwellings are mostly frame-built, two stories high, and from $15
to $20 a month rent is charged. Wages do not exceed $3 a day for
mechanics and $2 a day for laborers. Meat, on the other hand, is
reasonable, ranging in price from 6 to 12 cents a pound.
Servant girls have a union in New Zealand, and their wages run from $4
to $5 a week. After quitting time, the lady of the house must finish
any work that has not been completed. A smart New Zealand girl does
the work of three African house servants.
The degrading occupation of barmaid was noticeable in New Zealand, as
in most British colonies. But that kind of work for women will
gradually come to an end in the Island Dominion, as an act was passed
forbidding saloonkeepers hiring barmaids. Those that were engaged at
that work when the act was passed were allowed to remain, but when a
barmaid leaves the proprietor must fill the vacancy with a man. As
temperance has gained a strong foothold, it is not likely that, in the
near future, there will be work of that sort for either women or men.
Punishment by lashes for certain offenses committed by men is a law of
New Zealand, the number administered being from one to fifty.
All the inhabitants of Australasia are tea drinkers--tea for
breakfast, tea for luncheon, and tea for dinner. Mutton and lamb chops
are the meat standbys.
The government has sadly neglected Auckland in public buildings. For a
lively business place, and the largest city in the Dominion, the
railway station was a disgrace; it was little better than the one at
Wellington, but this comparison adds nothing to the Auckland Station.
When the American fleet visited New Zealand, the sailors took a fancy
to blankets made in that country, and before they left the hospitable
shores of the Dominion every blanket in stock had been bought. The
visit of the United States battleships here some years ago proved an
epoch-making event.
New Zealanders are very patriotic, but often, when they have visited
Australian cities and rested their eyes on the splendid buildings and
grand parks there, and quaffed a few draughts of metropolitan air that
pervades some centers of that country, they are in no hurry to return.
New Zealand is the best place in the world until the New Zealander
visits Australia.
Coastwise shipping, both in New Zealand and in Australia, is conducted
on a similar basis to that of the United States. A steamer leaving New
Zealand for Africa or Europe, or any foreign port, and stopping at an
Australian port to take on oversea cargo, is not allowed to carry
either freight or passengers from New Zealand to Australia. The same
rule applies to vessels coming from foreign ports that stop at
Australian ports with their destination a New Zealand port. Sailors
and firemen employed on coastwise ships are paid double the wages of
sailors on oversea ships, the same as paid sailors employed on
American ships--$40 and $45 a month.
One steamship company has cornered almost all the shipping there is in
that part of the world. It is a four days' sail from Auckland to
Sydney, and the first-class fare is $37. If a passenger received
first-class accommodation there would be less fault to find with the
high charge. A cabin contains six berths, and these are nearly always
occupied, as travel is heavy between the two centers. What would any
one paying first-class fare on a steamship plying between the United
States and Europe think if shown a cabin containing six berths, all of
them taken? One has no choice in Australasia. Second-class
accommodation on the ships of that line is not so good as third-class
on the European liners.
The duty on some American exports--grain binders, motor cars,
manufactured and raw material for various uses--is 25 to 60 per cent.
The duty on tobacco, most of it shipped from America, is 84 cents a
pound.
Auckland is very attractive by reason of her good harbor and the
elevated character of land, on which the greater portion of the city
is built.
Gold is profitably mined in both the North and South Islands.
The newspaper industry is well represented in Auckland, and fully
measures up to the place. One will find more news from the United
States printed in Auckland papers than in any other newspapers in
Australasia.
New Zealanders are to be commended for their fair treatment of
strangers. Travelers, particularly those from foreign lands, pay no
more for hotel accommodation and articles bought than is charged local
tourists. Every one seems to be interested in a stranger's welfare,
not for what money they can extort from him, but from a purely
Christian spirit. No petty overcharges were imposed--no one seemed
bent on getting more out of a visitor than was just. We wish them
well.
CHAPTER III
After a four days' sail over the Tasman Sea we reached Sydney,
Australia, where, after several weeks' stay, we counted our money.
Five dollars a day was our basis of expenses, but, as hotel rates had
not exceeded $1.50 a day in Australasia, we found ourselves with a
surplus of over a hundred dollars, for our expenses had been only $4 a
day instead of $5. A very enticing trip, taking several weeks, was
advertised to Fiji, Samoa, and the Tonga Islands for $125. We could
spare $100, but feared that the other $25 might result in our being
held in Australia at a time when we had promised to be in South
Africa. However, we bought a ticket for the South Sea Islands trip,
and took the chance of a shortage.
The ship was packed with passengers going to Fiji, as the sugar season
had just begun. The first suggestion of the demoralization that
accompanies living in the tropics was observed here. Whisky-and-soda,
whisky-and-soda, all the day and a good part of the night, seemed to
be the main "amusement" indulged in by many of the Islanders. This
pronounced phase of tropical life does not apply to any particular
white race--people of every nation travel the same road.
After six days' sail from Sydney the ship was angling about
treacherous coral reefs, and before us were fields of bright green
color--the sugar-cane; several buildings with smokestacks rising
above--the sugar mill; one-story frame houses dotted here and there;
the shores attractive with cocoanut palms, and just behind stretches
of broad banana leaves, the tops of grass and leaf-built huts showing
now and again through the foliage, were the unerring suggestions that
the balmy tropics had been reached.
How savage these strange people, standing on the wharf at Lautoka,
looked! The stiff hair was pointing upward for six inches from their
heads, some so bushy that the bottom of a washtub would be none too
large to accommodate the moplike, hairy spread. Tall, and of athletic
build, their features flat and negroid, copper or black in color, with
muscles standing out from legs and arms, their flesh shining from the
frequent use of cocoanut-oil, and with a cloth about their waist
extending to the knees, there stood the redeemed cannibals.
Their hair is black and kinky, but among groups of Fijis may be seen
hair of a dark, reddish color, and, again, others are completely
plastered with white mud. The plaster is coral lime, used to change
the color, which accounts for the reddish-colored mops. Dyeing the
hair is only a fad with a native, however, for he later on becomes
tired of his reddish locks, when he will apply a black dye, the hair
again becoming its natural color. In a few days the coral lime will
change the hair from black to brown, or reddish. He rubs himself with
cocoanut-oil every day, which gives his body and limbs a polished
appearance. That daily massage largely accounts for his muscles
standing out so prominently and also for his splendid build. Besides,
he puts in a great deal of time bathing and swimming, which exercise
will add strength to any one. In diving he excels perhaps any race in
the world, for going to depths of from 35 to 40 feet is a common
pastime with him.
The Fijis' mode of dealing with each other is communistic. A sailing
boat may be seen tied to the trunk of a cocoanut palm. All the natives
in that district having contributed to the building of the craft, when
one wished to use the boat there was no protest from other members of
the community. The same principle applies to money; when a Fiji has
earned, say, $5, he shares with others who may be in need.
One day a week is about all he cares to work, but he will make a
sacrifice of his scruples occasionally by working two days, when, for
instance, a ship is being loaded or unloaded. He receives 50 cents a
day, with board, for that labor. On the wharf are portions of
food--sandwiches, biscuits, meat, and other eatables--for each native
employed by the ship's company. Sitting on their haunches, they
devour their allotted portion at "Smoke, ho," time.
Numbers of them gather at a wharf of an evening when a ship is in
port. Soon the tunes of "Shall We Gather at the River?" "Jesus, Lover
of My Soul," "Hold the Fort," and other well-known hymns fall
harmoniously on the balmy air, the English words having been
translated into their language. No missionary, however, can be sure of
his black and brawny followers, for they think nothing of severing
their connection with one denomination and affiliating with any other
they think will better serve them. But all are affiliated with some
religious body. Cannibalism has not been practiced for forty years.
Fijians are a docile and agreeable race.
Unlike his Zulu brother, a Fiji has but one wife, and families, as a
rule, are small, not averaging more than three children. For some
years the birth rate was on the decrease, but of recent years they
have held their own. Some 90,000 natives, and 40,000 Indians, or
Hindus, live in the Fiji group.
Their huts are built of reeds, bamboo poles and cocoanut trees, the
roofs being covered with grass; they have two doors, but no windows.
Not a nail is used in the construction. Mats, made of cocoanut leaves,
are spread about the floor, giving the inside a neat appearance. Their
food is turtle, fish, yams, taro, boiled green bananas, cocoanut and
rice. A small yam looks like a beet; but some of them grow very large,
being a load for a man to carry. The taro is the root of a plant like
a lily, which grows in swamps. With these growing all around, combined
with the turtles and fish, he is as independent as he was a thousand
years ago. Then there are papaws, breadfruit and other tropical fruits
that furnish all the delicacies he may desire.
A large sugar mill is located at Lautoka, and the sugar shipment from
the Fiji group is nearly 100,000 tons each season. The land is very
rich, and some of the cane stalks are as large as a two-inch pipe.
Working in the cane fields and mills being too hard for the Fijian,
that work is done by Indian coolies. Narrow railways are built through
the large cane fields, and the stalks are brought to the mills on
trucks from the surrounding plantations. Fiji is the richest of all
South Pacific groups.
Free railroad travel is a luxury seldom enjoyed anywhere, but this is
to be found in Fiji. The distance from Lautoka to Ba is 28 miles, and
a railway connects the two points. There are sugar mills at both
places. A concession was granted to the sugar companies to build a
railway from Lautoka to Ba, with the stipulation that all passengers
traveling to and from these points be carried free of charge. The
track is two feet wide, and the locomotive is as broad as it is high.
A small car, with seats placed across, heads the train, and to this is
coupled several freight trucks. The schedule for the 28 miles is four
hours, but five and six hours is more often the time consumed in
making the journey.
Europeans carrying horse-hair fastened to a stick is the first odd
thing one notices at Lautoka. Flies are very numerous and stick to one
like mosquitoes. The fly-swish is used to keep "tormentors" from
worrying one to death. Australia has the same breed of insect, but
because of the absence of black servants and black help their hands
are occupied with tools of industry instead of a hair swish with which
to insure personal comfort.
Only 150 Europeans live in Lautoka, and these were engaged at clerical
or managerial employment. Few fat men were seen, and every one had a
bleached appearance.
Suva, capital of the Fiji Islands, is, with Lautoka, located on the
island of Viti Levu, the largest of the group. Abel J. Tasman, the
daring navigator who first set foot on Tasmania and first saw New
Zealand, was also the first white man to come in touch with these
islands, in 1643. They became British territory in 1874. A governor,
appointed by the King of England, directs the affairs of the group,
aided by a legislative council composed of eighteen members, twelve of
whom are appointed and six elected. Two native representatives are
included in the legislative council. Great Britain recently ceded the
government of these islands to Australia. The Fiji group are composed
of 200 islands, 80 of which are inhabited. The other islands are
small, but cocoanut palms grow on most of them.
One thousand Europeans live in Suva, and all of them dress in
immaculate white. Business houses are located along the water-front,
and the homes are built on rising hills. These dwellings rest on posts
driven in the ground, are of wood and one story in height. Large
verandas are built to the homes, and these are enclosed with
reeds--this screen keeping out the hot sun and allowing the breeze to
blow through at the same time.
Flowers grow everywhere, nature being liberal to Fiji both in quantity
and variety. Leaves on vegetation range from the size of an
ironing-board down to the finest fern-leaf. The sleeping tree, seen in
Suva, is of interest. When the sun has hid behind the tropical hills
the leaves begin to curl, and by dark they all close. At daylight, the
leaves begin to wake, as it were, and a short time after sunrise they
have unfolded to their full size. One weed or small bush that grows
here is a marvel of the vegetable world. It is called the sensitive
plant. If one looks at it, it seems to shrink away, and the slightest
touch will cause its leaves to shrivel up, as if dead. On leaving the
plant, the leaves slowly expand again. This plant goes to sleep, too,
when the chill of evening falls, but opens at the first flush of the
morning sun.
"The king of plants," the hibiscus, a flower from three to six inches
across, of a bright red and sometimes red and white color, grows in
profusion. Hedges are often made of the hibiscus, and when in bloom it
offers a superior floral scene. There is no end to flowers in Fiji.
"Oh, mamma! Look at the black bobbies!" (policemen) roared a young
Britisher when he first saw the Fiji police. The guardians of peace in
Fiji are termed constabulary, and natives compose the force. They wear
a bushy head of hair, as does the civilian native, have bare feet and
polished legs. Their uniform is a blue jacket, or tunic, and white
sulu (a kilt), the latter scalloped or vandyked round the edges.
Natives prefer police duty or soldiering to all other work. Unlike the
Zulu, he scorns domestic service, and field labor does not appeal to
him. A bright red hibiscus, or another flower of flaring hue, may be
seen sticking in his hair at the side. Thus the Suva policeman looks
neat, and is certainly noticeable.
The best building in Suva is a library, donated by a Scotch
philanthropist. It is built of cement. Little can be said of the
government buildings; yet in this small place is a botanical garden
large cities would be proud of.
Copra (dried cocoanut) is shipped in considerable quantities from
Suva. Brought from adjacent islands in small sailing boats, it is
loaded on vessels at the capital port. A cocoanut tree produces a
dollar's worth of copra yearly. Forty trees is the number generally
planted to the acre. Eight years' time is required from planting until
bearing. The trees require very little care, and, if not blown down by
storms, will yield for a hundred years.
It is marvelous to what uses the cocoanut tree and its fruit can be
put. Besides being a staple food of natives, the pulp, together with
cocoanut oil, is made into cakes for cattle, particularly dairy cows.
The pulp contains 40 per cent. nutriment, and both increased quantity
and richness of milk result when a cow is fed with these cakes. There
is a demand for this food in Australia. Soap is also made of the
cocoanut, together with candies, and preparations for cooking purposes
claim a large portion of the product. The coir, or fibers, and
cocoanut leaves are used to make mats, baskets, scrub brushes, brooms,
fans, pillows, for thatching houses, making rope and twine, and in
many other ways the cocoanut tree and its product serve as articles of
utility.
The Fijian believes that the food that tickles his palate should also
be relished by the white man. When one stops at a native's home it
would be better to forget for the time being that he is a white.
Fijians are very hospitable, and share with a white visitor the best
they have. It makes no difference how the native food may look, smell
or taste, if a white man refuses to partake of the hospitality offered
the native will be offended.
From 40,000 to 50,000 Indian coolies live in these rich islands, most
of whom work in the sugar-cane fields. Then there are what is known as
the Solomon Island "boys," in considerable numbers in Fiji, engaged at
the same work. The Fijian will not do hard work if he has a chance to
run away. Indians are brought to Fiji under the indenture system for a
term of five years. At the end of the indentureship, though, they may
remain in Fiji. Herein a similar blunder was made in Natal, South
Africa. Indians will eventually own the sections of Fiji worth having;
then natives, white men, and all others will have no chance to make a
living.
Some 500 lepers are detained on one island; but there was no leprosy
in Fiji, nor other bad diseases affecting the group before Indians
were imported to work in the sugar fields. From six to ten Indians are
hanged here every month; but there were very few hangings before
Indians came. When sending out packs of indentured coolies the Indian
government apportions one woman to three men; this may explain the
monthly hangings.
"Everybody in town knows what's in the papers before they come out,"
remarked a resident when speaking of the Suva newspapers. Two are
printed in the Fiji capital, each appearing three times a week. As
editions appear on alternate days, Suva enjoys the luxury of a daily.
Business men seem to be well satisfied with the publishers' efforts,
for, out of 28 columns contained in each of the tri-weeklies, 20
columns were advertisements. Considering population, high cable
charges, etc., Suva's newspapers outstrip anything we can recall; they
sell at six cents a copy.
All natives go to church on Sunday morning. Each one has a Bible or
hymn book carefully wrapped in a cloth or paper. Men and women are
dressed in their best, the men mostly in white jackets and sulus
(kilts), wearing vari-colored neckwear. Women wear cheap picture hats
or go bareheaded. With the latter style go fronds of delicate ferns,
artistically woven in the hair, or plaited together along with a
pretty hibiscus or other flaring flower. The natives not only look
attractive, but their demeanor commands respect. Their singing is of
fair quality, and they put their heart in their efforts.
The English money system--shillings and pounds--is the one in use in
the Fiji group. Hotel expenses were $2 to $3 a day.
All barriers and shoals in the sea in that part of the world are
termed coral reefs. Beautiful specimens are brought to the steamships
by natives to sell to passengers. The natural color of the coral is
brown, which becomes white when bleached in the sun. Then there are
big shells that are beauties--some so large they could not go in a
water pail. One variety of pearl shell--cici--found in the vicinity of
Suva has developed into quite an industry. A ton weight of these sell
from $125 to $150. They are as large as a goose egg. The Fijian dives
for these among the reefs, a kind of work that suits him to a T. These
shells are shipped to pearl merchants in China.
On the island of Mbau, situated not far from Suva, is the ancient
capital of Fiji, where all who may be termed aristocratic in Fiji
live. It was here the last king, Cakobau the Terrible, lived, died and
was buried. Kandavu Levu, the greatest of the Fijian lords and the
grandson of Cakobau, now lives in the old cannibal king's stronghold.
He receives a pension from the British government. The Fijian
princess, Andi Cakobau, the grand-daughter of King Cakobau, is also
among the high-bred Fijian residents at Mbau.
Sixty miles further a stop was made at Levuka, on the island of
Ovalau, as pretty a settlement as one could wish to see. Only 250
Europeans live in this place, but all seemed prosperous. These are
mostly traders, and it would surprise one to see the varied assortment
of goods in the stores. Roofs of houses are painted red, and the
residences are surrounded by cocoanut palms, papaw trees, and bananas.
There are flowers everywhere--even the shrubbery bears flowers.
A short distance from Levuka we came to a native village. Between the
front rows of huts was a street, 150 feet wide, covered with grass. On
visiting one of the huts, the husband pointed to a bed, which
consisted of a dozen mats piled on the floor, inviting me to sit
down. A moment later he bethought himself of the baby sleeping in the
part of the bed where he had invited me to sit. He pointed to a little
mound under the mats, laughed, and indicated that I sit in another
place. Scanning the tidy enclosure, to my surprise, a large picture of
Jeffries, the ex-prizefighter, hung from one side. It pleased the
native to see the interest I took in the poster, for he laughed aloud,
and, pointing to it, said something that sounded like "Ugh!"
Visiting another hut, it was also found very neat, the floor being
covered with cocoanut mats; the mat bed was the visitor's seat here
also. This Fijian could speak no English, and we had not been long
enough in the islands to acquire a speaking knowledge of the native
language. At our approach the wife came to the center of the hut, but
a few moments later, much to our surprise, she sat on the floor and
began turning a handle to an American-made hand sewing machine that
rested on a soap box.
It is possible for a Fijian to march 40 miles a day, heavily loaded,
without food; but sometimes he takes twelve hours to travel only
twelve miles, and eats half a dozen big meals during the journey. He
is said to have a more pronounced weakness for yanggona, the native
liquor, than have any other of the South Sea Islanders. This beverage
is made from the root of a tree and, when drunk to excess,
intoxicates. Each native must pay a yearly government tax of $5.
So that the reader may gather some idea of the scope of the planet on
which we live, it may be of interest to note, before leaving Levuka,
that this small port is located 11 hours and 59 minutes east of
Greenwich, England, from which point the time of the world is
computed.
CHAPTER IV
Traveling through still, blue-water channels, resembling wide
esplanades, if the term be allowed, formed by heavily verdured
tropical islands on each side, with curly coral reefs peeping out of
the sea from time to time, we sailed for 150 miles through what may be
termed an ocean park, when the ship entered the Koro Sea, and two days
later reached the Samoan Islands. Sixty miles east of Levuka we
crossed the line of the 180th meridian, where time changes 12 hours.
A red stream of lava, running from the mouth of a volcano down a
mountain course 15 miles in length, and emptying into the sea, is a
strange phenomenon. This volcano is located on the island of Savaii,
the largest of the Samoan group. The distance from the shore to the
mouth of the crater is seven miles, but the circuitous course of the
stream is double the direct distance. The volcano burst into activity
in 1905, and a foreshore of lava a quarter of a mile in extent bears
evidence of the crater's outpourings since that time. In daytime the
molten stream is white, and at night it resembles a great flaring
serpent as it angles its way about rocky obstructions down the
mountainside to the sea. Not far from the shore the lava bored a
tunnel through a hillock that interfered for a time with its flow, and
day and night the stream is red when passing through that opening. The
cloud of steam that rises as the lava enters the water resembles a
great volume of spray from a large waterfall. It is said the sea is a
mile deep where this lava stream empties into the Pacific Ocean. Ships
stop opposite the crater to allow passengers to view this unusual
spectacle.
Passing through a coral reef channel, we arrived in the harbor of
Apia, capital of the Samoan Islands. The little town stretches along
the bay, cocoanut palms lining the shore at places, the trees and
heavily verdured hills in the foreground giving the Samoan capital a
high position in the list of pretty places. The ship was soon
surrounded by natives, who offered for sale fans, shells, corals,
beads and flowers.
The Samoan is the native aristocrat of all peoples. In bearing, looks,
manners, tidiness, hospitality and pride he leads the world. He is the
Polynesian, together with the Maori, the Tongan (Friendly Islander),
the Kanaka (of Hawaii), and other tribes living on some of the South
Pacific islands. The Samoans number 40,000, about 500 Europeans living
in the group.
If one should reach Apia on Sunday he would be apt to find the hair on
the heads of a majority of men a yellow and reddish color; and were
one to stop at the same port on a Tuesday or Wednesday the hair would
be black, the natural color. Coral lime will change the color of hair
in two or three days, when he puts on his best lava-lava (kilt; sulu
in Fiji), the light-colored hair indicating he is dressed up. The hair
is straight, and worn brushed back. The lava-lava is often a bath
towel with red stripes. From his waist up he is bare, and he wears no
shoes. From waist-line to the cap of the knee he is tattooed. His skin
is a gold-bronze color, and he walks with a princely step, but not a
swagger stride. Natives are of good size, but not so strongly built as
the Zulus.
Samoan women are noted for their beauty, and their comeliness measures
up to this coveted distinction not only among the South Sea Islands
races, but of native races of the world. They wear the lava-lava, as
the men, together with a loose-fitting waist, with short, loose
sleeves. Wrappers, however, are sometimes worn. The clothing worn on
the islands is made with the object of affording comfort. The hair
generally presents a tidy appearance. Flowers, ferns or leaves are
often seen deftly placed in the folds of the thick black hair of
Samoan women, which usually shines from a liberal application of
cocoanut oil. Garlands, worn about the neck, also play a part in their
dress. These are sometimes composed of orange blossoms, buds of other
flowers, berry-like seeds from trees, small seashells, pits from
certain fruits, or of pieces of bone resembling teeth of wild beasts.
As a rule, their expressions are pleasing, and they have a healthy
appearance. Some wear sandals, but most natives are in their bare
feet. As with the wearing apparel of most races, the lava-lavas and
waists are not all of the same color, but vary according to the fancy
of the wearer; and the seed of fancy and caprice seems to be implanted
in the hearts of women of all races, as manifested not only by the
different colors of the lava-lava, but also by the patterns of silks,
sealskins, feathers, and precious stones, as the case may be.
These natives are too proud to unload ships, so Nieu "boys," natives
from the Savage Islands, are carried from port to port to do the work.
Each Samoan owns a small piece of land, and the copra, cocoa, bananas
and other tropical products from this amply supply his needs.
When eating in a Samoan's hut a mat is spread for the visitor to sit
on. Another mat is placed before the visitor, which might be termed a
tablecloth. A banana-leaf plate, placed on the second mat, may contain
a baked fish or perhaps a pigeon. Still another dinner mat, with a
banana-leaf plate, contains greens, the taro leaf, and cocoanut cream;
then there may be a third course, with mat and "plate," containing a
native delicacy. The native beverage, kava, is served in a cocoanut
shell by one of the daughters. All the while chatting is going on and
compliments paid the visitor by the family through an interpreter, if
one cannot speak their language. Sipping liquid is not a custom in
Samoa; but swallowing whatever is offered in the nature of drink at
one gulp, and then sending the cup spinning back across the mat to the
person who served it, is proper. One is supposed to sit cross-legged
on a mat during the meal.
Most of the natives seemed to own a horse and buggy, and no signs of
poverty are apparent. People are in no hurry in Samoa, which may
account for the term, "The land of delicious idleness." The weather is
hot, never below 90 degrees in the shade, and hovers about the 100
mark. The temperature does not vary 10 degrees all the year round.
For miles around Apia is a great botanical garden. It is said the best
cocoanut palms grow in Samoa; bananas grow as prolific as weeds; the
broad-leafed cocoa tree, with its large, purple-covered pods, covers
large areas; the papaw, or mummy apple, is seen at every turn; coffee
bushes are a luxurious growth; pineapples, mango trees, breadfruit
trees, with broad leaves and rough skin--any tree or plant that grows
in the tropics may be found in Samoa. The exports from that port are
chiefly copra and cocoa. Samoa is the only place in the South Sea
Islands where cocoa trees will thrive.
Nobody locks doors at night, and nothing is ever taken from huts.
Calling on an acquaintance who kept a general store, we found the
place filled with Samoans--not room enough to move. He had occasion to
step to the rear for some article called for, leaving the goods, which
were piled up on the counters, to the mercy of the natives, and much
floor space was taken up with merchandise, too. After the customers
had left the store, the storekeeper was asked if he did not fear that
his goods would be taken while he was at the rear of the building. "If
I had turned around while walking from the front to the rear of the
store," he explained, "something would have been missing, for I would
have offended their sense of honesty, but by giving no sign of
suspicion--trusting them--had I remained away an hour everything in
the place would be, on my return, as it was when I went away."
Samoans are a religious race. On Sundays the streets are crowded with
natives dressed in highly-colored lava-lavas, each carrying a Bible
and hymn book. They are good singers.
Only a few miles from Apia, Robert Louis Stevenson, the novelist,
lived and died. On Mount Vaca, rising a thousand feet above Apia, his
remains lie, and a portion of the tomb may be seen through the thick
foliage when sailing into the harbor. His home, "Vailima," is now the
residence of the Governor-General.
"Talofa" is the passing salute in Samoa, which, translated, is "My
love to you." "Tofa" is the parting word on leaving a Samoan home,
meaning "good-by."
Foreign labor is imported to work on plantations, as the natives
cannot be depended upon; Chinamen are generally employed. And what an
improvement the Chinaman is on the Indian coolie!
The Samoan is a fatalist. If the idea comes into his head that he is
going to die no power on earth will keep him alive. He gives right up,
lies down on the ground, in a boat, or wherever he may be--just makes
up his mind that his time has come.
A Samoan chief dressed in war regalia is an object of interest. His
well shaped head, covered with a heavy growth of black hair brushed
back and glossy from applications of cocoanut oil, rests on a stocky
neck. The face is round, complexion bronze, and he generally wears a
mustache. In addition to a necklace, thickly studded with polished,
round, sharp-pointed pieces of bone, several inches in length, which
encircles the neck, a loop of stout cord, ornamented with larger and
rougher pieces of bone, resting on the shoulders and extending to
below the chest, is worn. Save for the necklace and loop, the warrior
is bare to his waist. From waistline to between knee and ankle he is
covered with a bulky kilt--often made of bark cloth--this being
embellished with fringe, tassels and ribbon woven from tropical
fibers. Plump, but not fat, he stands about 5 feet 6 inches. A rifle
is a fighting feature of the chief's equipment, and, like most
Samoans, is in bare feet.
Elephantiasis makes its appearance in Samoa, and natives with legs
swollen to the proportion of an elephant's may be seen walking any
time at a slow, shuffling gait, about the islands. This disease occurs
more often in tropical sea sections, and is believed to be caused by a
blood parasite. The legs become enormously enlarged, due to
inflammation of the skin and obstructed circulation of the blood.
America has adopted a good system of looking after natives' copra
produced on the islands of Manua and Tutuila, United States territory.
An officer in charge at Pago-Pago receives the goods, weighs it, gives
a receipt for the product, and sells when the market offers the best
price. In the meantime, if the native needs money, he can, by applying
to the proper officer, have funds advanced to him. When his copra
is sold, he is paid the full price.
[Illustration: INTERIOR OF SAMOAN HOME, BUILT OF BREADFRUIT TREE,
SECURED BY COIR; NO NAILS USED.
SAMOA.]
The huts or homes of the Samoans, circular in form, are the best built
of those of any native races. From a heavy center upright beam, 12 to
16 feet in length, scantlings extend to a circular support, which
rests on posts three feet high. The roof, composed of cocoanut palm
leaves, is secured to breadfruit wood scantlings. Palm-leaf curtains,
the width of the space from post to post, are attached to the circular
timber. During the day the shades are raised all round, allowing air
to pass through, and at night they are lowered. As an additional means
of cooling the home, a strip of pebbles, two feet wide, extends around
the hut, mats covering the floor space each side of the circle of
small stones. The bed is composed of half a dozen to a dozen
cocoanut-leaf mats, four feet wide and six feet in length, and white
cotton sheets, laid on the floor. In the morning the bedding is rolled
together, placed on poles above, and taken down at bedtime. As chairs
do not figure in the furnishing of a Samoan home, a leaf mat is used
as a seat.
Though Samoans will not unload ships, they have no objection to
washing clothes. They board vessels in the harbor and solicit laundry
work, charging eight cents apiece. For a white suit of drill they
charge only eight cents, a pair of socks or a collar costing the same.
On a sailing ship, and on a naval cutter plying between Pago-Pago and
Apia (both seen here), also on a schooner at Dunedin, N. Z., were the
only instances since leaving New York when the Stars and Stripes was
observed flying from vessels.
Upolu Island, on which Apia is located, is second in area to Savaii,
being 38 miles long and 12 wide. Samoa is one place in the Southern
Pacific Ocean that Abel Tasman was not the first to set eyes on, this
group being discovered by Captain Roggeville, in 1721.
We reached Apia on a Sydney Sunday (Eastern time), which was Saturday
in Apia (Western time). Naturally, Sydney's Monday was Apia's Sunday,
so we had two Saturdays and two Sundays that week. It is difficult
for the layman to understand how twelve hours can make a day, as we
appeared to lose one after crossing the line of the 180th meridian
from east to west.
A weekly newspaper of 48 columns, 25 of these advertisements, is
published in Apia. Only 200 Europeans live in the town, yet a
newspaper of that size appears to flourish.
The American consul called at the ship one evening in tropical evening
dress to have a chat with the American passengers--four in number. He
asked the captain of the vessel, who was a Britisher, to blow his
whistle three times on sailing out of the harbor, when he would
acknowledge the salute by lowering the flag on the staff at the
consulate. The captain kept his word, the following day, but the flag
did not move. There is nothing strange about such forgetfulness,
however, for the consulate is located in "The Land of Delicious
Idleness."
CHAPTER V
We will now say "Tofa" to that splendid race and their pretty islands
and make a start for Tonga, when the day "lost" will be reclaimed, as
we recross the 180th meridian. The captain did not turn back the
ship's clock here, but kept the Sydney time.
Passing between two prominent stone walls, we entered the harbor of
Vavau, Tonga, another group of the South Sea Islands. This group
appears on some maps as the Friendly Islands. Abel Tasman, who
discovered so many countries before any one else, but allowed others
to claim what he first saw, discovered the Tongan group in 1643. Over
a hundred years later Captain James Cook, the explorer, made three
visits to these islands, before and after he had planted the British
flag on Australia and New Zealand. The Tongans have always had
self-government, but the group is under the protection of the British.
The native ruling power is King George Tubou II. Parliament consists
of 32 elected representatives and an equal number of hereditary
chiefs, all of native birth. The islands also boast a Prime Minister,
a Chancellor of the Exchequer, a Chief Justice and other high
officials.
King George Tubou II., at the opening of Parliament, wears a European
court suit, a gold and jeweled crown, and a long mantle of crimson
velvet trimmed with ermine, which is supported by two boys attired in
tights, trunks, and feathered caps, while the king's soldiers line the
highway along which the royal procession marches. To maintain that
standard of royalty the natives are taxed $10 each a year, with
maturity age at 16. The native head tax in Fiji is $5, and in Samoa
$3, so the Tongan pays highly for the royal atmosphere he breathes.
The harbor of Vavau is the prettiest we have seen, but it would not
be advisable to make that statement in Sydney, Australia. While the
striking panorama offered by Sydney's is absent here, Nature's lavish
tropical adornment offsets that feature, wrought mainly by the hand of
man, in the former. For seven miles, from the imposing Heads to the
small town at the other end, the shores are studded with cocoanut
palms, and the bay is beautifully bedecked with small and pretty
islands, thickly verdured with a moistened growth, the fronds of the
cocoanut palm and leaves of the banana bush growing on these dipping
their points into the still, mirror-like blue water from every side.
Smaller vegetation grows upward for a time, but later yields to the
seductiveness of the clear, calm, coral-reflected water, when the
bright, tender tips of these become fondled, as it were, by the gentle
ripples, adding more attractiveness to this unusual scene of natural
beauty. These islands would remind one of a flower-pot overgrown with
drooping ferns. The vessel is pointed straight, then veers, when the
foliage of one of these green barriers seems almost to brush the
water-line of the ship. After a turn in another direction, the course
is straight again for a short distance. Another of these pretty
islands is seen just ahead, when the vessel slants and seem to barely
miss caressing the foliage drooping into the water. All the while the
palm-studded shore maintains its most pronounced beauty. Traveling
through Vavau harbor is like sailing through an enchanted botanical
garden.
"Malolelei," the word a visitor first hears from a Tongan, is "Good
day" in the native language. One soon asks another who knows how to
pronounce the word to teach him the vernacular, for the salute is
supposed to be returned. Every one says "Malolelei."
The Tongan is very friendly to the whites, which explains how the name
"Friendly Islands" came to be applied to the Tongan group. Mariners,
in early days, when shipwrecked on the shores of these islands, were
killed, cut up, and made stew of. But nowadays they would be fed,
housed and receive any and every attention that would make their
misfortune easier to bear. Were a white man known to be in need, every
native would feel it his duty to help relieve him. Each would bring
with him food, and if the hungry man could eat all that was brought to
him he might live to be as old as Methuselah without worrying about
money to pay his board bill.
"The Sun is dead!" was the term used by the natives to describe a
total eclipse of the sun that took place while traveling through the
South Sea section of the journey. The words were spoken in a solemn
tone, and it was amusing to note the difference in their voices and
faces when, the eclipse being over, they shouted, "The Sun is alive
again!"
Little of interest is to be seen at Vavau, as only 60 white persons
live here, most of them traders. Native meat is scarce, as practically
no grain or potatoes grow in tropical countries, so European food
staples have to be imported to the islands of the South Seas. As an
offset for these importations, bananas, copra and pineapples are
exported to either Auckland or Sydney.
"Good-by to chops and juicy steaks--canned meat for you
henceforth"--were the parting words an Australian received who left
the ship at a Tongan port. He had decided to make his home in Tonga,
and no person would feel the loss of a mutton chop more keenly than an
Australian.
We again sail through Vavau's botanical harbor, and next stop at
Haapai, a port on another island of the group. Traveling from South
Sea ports, the deck of a ship is crowded with natives, whose bodies
shine with cocoanut oil, and all have cocoanut palm leaf baskets and
banana-leaf plates. Sometimes a piece of purple-colored taro is bitten
off and eaten, or a dozen cocoanuts are tilted and natives drink the
liquid; then a whole orange may be forced inside the mouth, when a
series of prying with the fingers takes place, causing contortions of
the face, in the effort to squeeze out the juice, when the caved-in
orange will be withdrawn and thrown away. All are bareheaded, wearing
vari-colored kilts and waists, and everybody happy and seemingly well
fed. A feature of the Tongan's "luggage" is the great quantity of food
each brings with him. They have good faces, but are not up to the
general appearance of the Samoan.
The shore on which the little town of Haapai is built is a picture.
Lined with an unbroken row of cocoanut palms, as far as one could see
over the tops of these there was no other growth. Coral reefs are very
pretty here, and tiny bright blue fish dart like butterflies from
caves in the reefs and in turquoise-blue pools. At some places the
bottom of the sea is like a garden, as growing therefrom is peculiar
colored seaweed, striped and spotted shells being numerous.
Tonga homes cannot compare with those of Samoa. They are hayrick
shaped, seldom have a window, and two doors generally lead to the
inside. The floors are covered with cocoanut-leaf mats, and the beds
are of mats of the same material. A lantern is used to light their
huts at night; the oil burned in these comes from the United States. A
big circular wooden bowl, with legs cut from the heart of a large
tree, used to mix the native drink in, is another important utensil in
the Tongan home; the bottom is of a slaty-blue color. Cocoanut-shell
cups figure prominently in native utensils. Some Tongans, however,
live in frame houses, roofed with iron.
A native drink, known as kava, is universally used throughout the
islands of the South Pacific Ocean. The drink is made from the root of
a shrub, which is sometimes pounded into small pieces with stones, but
of late years graters have been used; and coffee-grinders serve the
purpose still better. Gratings from the root are placed in the wooden
bowl, and water is poured on these. The coarser grounds are strained
from the kava by grass or fibers from the bark of certain shrubs or
trees. A European would have to acquire a liking for this native
drink, as at first it tastes like a mixture of soapsuds and ginger.
When drunk to excess it does not affect the head, but the legs become
paralyzed for a few hours; blindness also follows its abuse. Kava is
served in cocoanut cups.
Tongans number but 21,000, and all belong to some religious
denomination. Church collections are taken only once a year. The
"basket" is never passed for contributions. A wooden bowl or a
galvanized kettle is placed under the pulpit, and each goes forward
and puts his contribution in the "box." A majority, 18,000 out of the
21,000, are identified with the Wesleyan Church, and this number
contributes the sum of $25,000 a year. They build their own churches
and give their services free. Few nails are used in these buildings,
the timbers being secured by coir, or cinnet. If the wood be dark, the
brown fibers of the cocoanut are dyed the color of the wood that is to
be lashed. The cinnet lashing seen in the church buildings is
splendidly done, and often resembles carving. The Tongans hold their
churches in much reverence. At some frame houses in the towns is seen
a round galvanized tank to hold rain water running from the roof.
However, they consider it sacrilege to conserve the water running from
the roof of a church.
A traveling acquaintance who had lived in Tonga for years was asked if
white people locked their doors at night. "Yes," he replied, "the
kitchen door--to keep the cats out."
Poverty is unknown here, as are jails. Each Tongan has 8¼ acres of
land, and the copra from that area not only furnishes sufficient money
to buy what is needed but allows a small surplus besides.
Not one murder has taken place in the group in over 20 years, and then
a white man was mixed up in it. This will seem more remarkable when it
is remembered that almost every native carries a big knife, with which
to shuck cocoanuts and cut the stems of bananas. But two races live in
Tonga--300 whites and the balance Tongans.
One hundred islands compose this group, Tongatabu, on which the
capital is built, being the largest and most important. That island is
20 miles long and 12 miles wide.
Nukualofa, the capital, our next stop, is 1,100 miles from Auckland,
New Zealand. Europeans there do not exceed 75 persons, but the native
population is comparatively large. The King's palace and the Chapel
Royal are the most conspicuous buildings in the town. A royal guard,
consisting of half a dozen brown-skinned soldiers, dressed in scarlet
coats, see that their king nor his property are molested. The king is
a man of striking appearance, six feet four inches in height, very
stout, and in the forties. The line of succession in Tonga passes
through the mother, not the father. King George Tubou II.'s salary is
$10,000 a year. The Tonga group is the only independent kingdom now
left in the Pacific.
Grass grows everywhere in Nukualofa, including the streets. A buggy,
drawn by a small, woolly horse, may pass half a dozen times a day
along the main streets, or a native on horseback, with a
flaring-colored shirt, may create a little temporary excitement
occasionally dashing along a thoroughfare as fast as the horse's legs
can carry him. Children do not appear to quarrel, roosters seemed to
be imbued with the spirit of peace, and the weather is generally too
hot for dogs to have a fall out; so one going to Nukualofa with
distracted nerves is apt to feel stronger after a stay in the Tongan
capital. To borrow from Samoa, it is another "land of delicious
idleness."
It is in places of this character where one comes across British
ne'er-do-wells, or "remittance men," as they are termed. These are
sent from Great Britain by wealthy parents to isolated places like
Tonga and Fiji, and a certain sum of money is sent them each
month--enough to pay their board and a little over for spending money.
They are too far away to disgrace the family, and it is cheaper to pay
their expenses in far-off countries than it would be to support them
at home. They are virtually prisoners in these out-of-the-way places,
for they soon get in debt, and no one owing money can leave the
islands. These men generally marry a native woman, drink all the
whisky and soda they can get, and the wife's income from her cocoanut
farm provides for the home.
Consumption is making inroads among this splendid race of natives.
Some discard their native clothes and wear European apparel; they then
live in a house instead of a hut, which is unnatural; but, worst of
all, they cease to rub themselves with cocoanut oil, and in other ways
neglect the customs of their ancestors. The native mode of living is
much the better for the native. European customs do not seem to agree
with colored races. It is the same with all native races--when they
come in contact with the white man they generally go down hill.
Some of the prettiest trees in the world are to be seen in Nukualofa.
They do not grow high, but their spread is so wide and the outlines of
the limbs so regular that one never forgets them.
Flying foxes--large bats, or vampires--are sacred animals to the
Tongan. Some distance from Nukualofa is a grove of large trees, and in
the daytime thousands of the bats will be hanging from the limbs by
their claws, heads down. At sunset they all wake up and fly over the
island and make raids on fruit plantations. At sunrise they will
return to the same grove and hang downward all day. These bats are as
large as cats, with furry bodies, and the native believes something
terrible would happen were he to kill one.
Tongans are more advanced, intellectually, than any of the South Sea
races, not excepting the Maori, who is of the same race. A college in
Nukualofa is well attended by natives.
Kaikai is the name of food in the South Sea Islands, as it is also in
New Zealand.
Tongan women do not work like those of other South Sea Islands races.
The men say it makes women ugly to work all day in the sun, and they
prefer their wives to be good-looking and good-natured. Men even do
the larger share of the housework.
White drill clothes are worn by all Europeans in Tonga, and every man
has a tropical evening dress suit. The suit shows a wide spread of
white shirt, generally starched, and high collar. Vests and trousers
are white. The coat is a jacket, however, that stops a trifle below
the waist line. At the back the jacket comes to a point. It is like a
ship steward's jacket.
"Teddy Bears" are as universal as American oil and American
sewing-machines. In any part of the world one may observe European
children with "Teddies" in their hands.
Europeans living in the tropics become so enervated that such a thing
as failing to keep an appointment is thought nothing of. The blood
becomes thin, and the easy life they live practically unfits them for
work they would be called on to do in a cooler climate. Then, again,
they are looked up to in the sparsely settled white communities, and
when they return to the Northland and practically become nonentities
they painfully miss the pampering they received from natives. Most of
these would prefer to live a sickly life in the tropics to a healthful
one, contingent on hard work, in their native land. It is hard to rise
above the pressure of environment.
We are about to start on Leg Five, but before doing so we wish to
explain our divergence of travel in Australasia. On reaching Melbourne
from Perth a day's time was all that was spent in the city at that
time. We went to Tasmania, New Zealand, and then to Sydney. From New
South Wales we started on the South Sea Islands trip. From Nukualofa
we journeyed to Auckland, our second time in that city. Recrossing the
Tasman Sea to Sydney, we journeyed to Melbourne by rail, the second
time also we were in that city. Stopping there but a few hours, a
start was made for Adelaide; then from Adelaide to Ballarat, and back
to Melbourne, where some time was spent, from which port we sailed on
our return trip to South Africa, and from which place we start Leg
Five.
LEG FIVE
CHAPTER I
For the first time in my travels I had to be content with third-class
steamship accommodation. I knew the South Sea Islands trip would
shrivel my pocketbook, and would not have been disappointed had I not
enough money to buy even a third-class ticket to South Africa. We took
a chance on the South Sea Islands trip--and won. "Steerage," in big
red type, was stamped on the steamship ticket that carried me from
Melbourne to South Africa, but all passengers were on an equality, as
there was but one grade of accommodation--third.
Supper was the first meal on board, but no tea or coffee was served.
The absence of these "luxuries" was explained later, passengers being
informed that tea or coffee was provided only once daily--at breakfast
time. At the first morning meal a hubbub took place among mothers with
babes. Something was wrong with the milk, and when that matter had
also been explained we learned that sea water--salt water--had been
used, instead of fresh water, to dilute the condensed milk.
The cabins contained from two to ten berths, and as almost every one
prefers privacy a few dollars more were paid for a two-berth cabin, as
little sleep could be anticipated were interests pooled with nine
snoring mates. The two-berth cabin had no margin to boast of, as, in
order for one to get a handkerchief from his hip pocket, it was
necessary to vacate it and seek arm-turning space in the hallway. I
had a good cabin mate, and we soon came to an understanding as to what
time each of us would visit our quarters. Two could sleep in the
cabin, but there was not room enough for two to turn in it. The
pillow--we would not be so rash as to say the slip covered a chunk of
cement; it may have been tan bark. The door had no lock, neither was
there a button to ring up the steward.
The ship stopped at Hobart, took on 30,000 cases of apples, and
headed for Albany, West Australia. The tea merchants in the Tasmania
capital did a good business for the time being, as passengers who,
before starting, knew nothing of the rules of the ship concerning tea
and coffee allowances laid in here a good supply, together with
preserves, crackers, Chinese napkins and other necessities the ship
did not furnish.
Ninety dollars for eight weeks' travel is surely giving passengers a
cheap journey. The vessel sailed from Sydney the first week in June,
reaching her destination, London, England, about the first of August,
after a voyage of 14,000 miles. Three hundred persons had booked
passage on the liner, and of that number there was not one
foreign-speaking passenger aboard. This will seem strange when it is
borne in mind that the most cosmopolitan place in the world is a
passenger steamship. Seven preachers were included, which, sea
tradition says, generally augurs for bad weather; but, as there are
exceptions to almost every rule, we had smooth sailing after clearing
the Bight and Cape Leeuwin. The "animal" classification of the cargo
included birds--canaries, magpies, parrots and cockatoos; also a joey,
as a young kangaroo is called. This animal was bought at Albany by an
American, the tariff on the joey to London being $10. The freight
charge for a canary was 60 cents, and rates for larger birds were from
75 cents to $1.25.
Fruit--generally confined to apples or oranges--was served at supper.
The apples often seemed nearly as hard as billiard balls and as
tasteless as frozen turnips. A prosperous Irishman, of a ripe age, who
had gone to Australia in early days, when six months' time was
required to make the voyage, was, with his aged wife, returning to the
Emerald Isle. One evening, when we had oranges for supper, after he
had bitten into one, the Celt was observed going through a series of
facial contortions, with shoulder movements--something after the
fashion of an agitated Frenchman. "Are the oranges sweet to-night, Mr.
O'Gorman?" he was asked. "Sweet?" whipped back the old Roman, as water
dripped from the tear-ducts of his eyes and fire snapped from the
corners--"Sweet? They're so sharup they'd cut your t'roat!"
Cake was served Sunday afternoons, and milk, sugar and hot water were
at the pleasure of passengers, but they had to furnish their own tea
or coffee. The tea and teapot, for instance, would be given to the
table steward, and he would make the tea and serve it at mealtime. A
piano added greatly to the entertainment of the passengers, as
concerts were held twice a week. Besides, various athletic sports were
indulged in.
The preachers took turns officiating at Sunday services. As there were
seven of them--the voyage embracing as many Sabbaths--each one had an
opportunity to keep in practice. One of their number, a Scotch
Presbyterian, was on his way from Australia to his native country for
a "holiday." Except at mealtime, he could generally be found sitting
in a corner of the smoking saloon burning up black cigars, as he was a
confirmed smoker; he was also a devotee of, and an expert at, the game
of checkers, or draughts, as that amusement is termed in British
territory. While no one on the ship had a chance to beat him, during
the course of a game he would buoy, from time to time, the hope
entertained by a presumptuous rival of lowering the parson's colors
with clerical flattery--pretending that his opponent had nearly caught
him napping on certain moves and that the skill of the player was
worthy any foeman's steel. An Irish Presbyterian also was among the
clergymen, and he sometimes sat at a table for hours with another
passenger, in tomb-like stillness--playing a game of chess. Chess
players, as a rule, have a poor opinion of checkers--calling it a
child's game. The Irish dominie was asked if much skill was required
to play checkers. "No," was the reply. "Any one can learn that game in
a week." A short time later, when the Scotch preacher was engaged at
checkers, and won, as usual, he congratulated his opponent on the
splendid game he had played. "There's a great deal of superfluous talk
about checkers--one would think that only persons of superior
intellect could play that game," remarked a passenger to the
Scotchman. A sneer came over the preacher's face. "I've been playing
draughts for 30 years and don't know the game yet," he tartly
answered. "Why," returned the passenger, "a man on this ship said
there was nothing to it--that any one could learn the game in a week."
"Who's the man that said he could learn the game of draughts in a
week!" he exclaimed, in eloquent tones. "Who's the man! Point him
out!" He lost control of a strong cigar, and every one laughed but the
padre.
Durban was reached 26 days after leaving Melbourne, and here I found
myself left with only $2 of the $750 with which I started for the
Antipodes. (Reference to the last paragraph of Leg Two and the
Itinerary printed at the end of the book will explain conditions.)
On a German ship we took final leave of Durban and South Africa, the
route being along what is known as the East Coast of Africa and across
the western end of the Indian Ocean, to Bombay, India. Every berth was
engaged. New scenes ahead bespoke an interesting voyage. America was
well represented among the passengers, as there were eight--five
missionaries, two theatrical men and a printer.
A day's sail along the flat coast of Zululand and Tongaland and
southern Portuguese-East Africa found us in Lourenzo Marques, the
capital of Portuguese-East Africa. Seldom is the name Lourenzo Marques
heard in this part of the world. "Delagoa Bay" is used 99 times out of
100 when speaking of that East Coast capital. Mention was made in the
few Lisbon notes of the white and gray paving used in that city, and
the same kind of pavement in Lourenzo Marques brings one's mind back
to the Portuguese capital, particularly "Rolling Motion Square." The
white population of Portuguese-East Africa is small considering the
large territory embraced in that colony, Europeans numbering only
3,000. Public buildings do not make much of a showing, a good harbor
and docks being the city's chief assets. Street car and electric light
systems, a seaside resort and high prices are some of the
characteristics of Lourenzo Marques. Natives are very numerous, and
African fever--a notorious feature of this place--is so prevalent that
all the white residents have a veiny, sickly appearance.
Fever trees, so called from their sallow appearance, grow not far
from here. The leaves droop, are small, thin and lifeless, while the
bark on the stunted trunks and limbs is scaly.
Lourenzo Marques, located on Delagoa Bay, is the nearest port for the
Transvaal, through which most of the machinery and supplies for the
great mines passed until the consolidation of the South African
provinces. It was, in short, the chief Boer port of South Africa. Were
the deaths that occurred while building the railroad from here to
Pretoria made public it would make sad reading. During the stretch of
400 miles separating Johannesburg and Lourenzo Marques some of the
territory traversed is through the worst fever zones in the
world--even the trees contracting "fever."
Cruising along to the next port, Inhambane--also Portuguese
territory--where the stately cocoanut palm raises its bushy head to an
admiring distance from the earth, we again reach the tropics. Four of
the missionaries disembarked--a bishop and his wife, and one other
couple, who were located at a mission station a short distance from
this port.
Three hundred whites live in this treacherous place and 30 per cent.
die each year. The permanent missionary and his wife had both been
fever victims, and if they fail soon to get out of the Inhambane
district they will never come out alive. The husband is a powerfully
built man, and his wife's skin as fair as a lily. She would be called
pretty. They both had a good education, and both were hard workers.
The missionary's predecessor had become "salted," but the bodies of
three wives were resting under African soil. Black-water fever is
nearly always certain death. Until a few years ago death was as
certain after having contracted that form of fever as to one who
stepped in front of a locomotive traveling at a speed of a mile a
minute. All liquids drunk by a victim turn black.
A native was induced to scale a cocoanut tree and knock nuts off.
Eight tumbled down, and we were charged two cents each for them. The
cocoanut tree has no season--it blossoms and bears the year round.
Native women loaded and unloaded the ship, and looked stronger than
the men. Sugar, copra and peanuts were put on at that port.
The anchor chain winds round the drum, and off we start on another
run, bringing us to Beira, also in Portuguese territory, the port for
Rhodesia. The best route to reach Salisbury or Bulawayo is from Beira.
To the former place it is some 300 miles, and to Bulawayo nearly 700
miles.
Venice, Italy, is unique in canals and in the absence of vehicular
traffic; and Beira may claim some resemblance to the Italian city,
notably in the absence of carriages, automobiles, wagons, motorcycles
and street cars. Beira is built on a sandbar, and the means of travel
in that place is by vehicles called "trolleys," four-wheeled
conveyances. The frame is of iron, and a foot-rest, seat, back and
hood are built on this. It is a small carriage on low wheels. The
track on which the trolley runs is two feet wide, and the rails are
one-inch thick. Ties or sleepers support these. The "power" to move
the "trolley" is two natives, who push the vehicle, and push it on the
run. These natives are dressed in white cotton shirts, with short
sleeves, and with a lava-lava or kilt made of calico, with big spots,
which reaches to the knees. Their hat is a red fez with tassels, which
suggests we have reached the influence of the Arab. The "trolley"
pusher never runs between the rails--always on the one-inch rail. One
would think there are grooves in his feet to fit in these. The streets
are intersected by "trolley" tracks, switches being made at places,
where "trolleys" branch to certain streets. On the main street are
three tracks, and turntables have been built here and there on which
to turn the cars around when ready for the return trip. They are
comfortable to ride in, and most of them are privately owned.
With the exception of a good sea wall, there is little of the
substantial about Beira--only a few frame buildings, and others of
corrugated iron. Arab merchants are numerous, and where they have
become established there is very little money for the white man, few
modern customs being in evidence.
One of my cabin mates was a Trappist priest. Born in Ohio, he went to
Africa in his early years, and had been teaching natives for a quarter
of a century. He was a chaplain in the Boer War, and his intimate
knowledge of that interesting country was so general as to break set
rules for bedtime when listening to his experiences.
The ship's whistle blows and we are off again, traveling through what
is known as the Mozambique Channel, that stretch of water separating
Madagascar, a French possession, from Portuguese-East Africa. The
latter country is 750 miles in length and 200 miles wide. The seashore
all along is as free of ruggedness as the shores of a lake located in
a level plain.
Negro melodies and popular airs were reeled off their musical
instruments by the two Americans at intervals of a few nights between.
We had a congenial lot of passengers, and every one was enjoying the
voyage.
Three more stops were made in Portuguese-East Africa, but no
enterprise was apparent. Few white people were to be seen, while
Indians, Arabs and natives were as thick as flies. At Ibo, the last
stop, the cargo was brought from shore to the ship in what are called
dhows, with ragged sails, scaly hulks, chipped masts, frazzled
ropes--the sort of vessels that have been used in Asia for 2,000
years. Rubber trees grow in that section and, together with copra,
comprise the exports.
CHAPTER II
Dar-es-Salaam, the capital of German-East Africa, was, after leaving
Ibo, the next place where the vessel put in. What a difference is
observable in the make-up and general appearance of this German town
to those in Portuguese-East Africa! Some very imposing stone and
cement buildings, with others under construction; good streets, clean
surroundings, and a sprinkling of white people, were a very welcome
change from the poorly built and almost totally black-populated places
we had left behind.
The railway station, freight cars and locomotives, good wharves and
paved streets brought to mind old scenes. For nearly 800 miles the
railroad pierces westward through a black-populated and wild-beast
inhabited country to the shore of Lake Tanganyika, this body of water,
420 miles long and 10 to 60 miles wide, being the boundary of this
German possession and the Belgian Congo. Rubber and coffee plantations
have been laid out, particularly at the western end of the railroad
line; and from the great native passenger traffic, and bringing of
supplies to these and to races far beyond the western terminus, good
returns are assured. The area of this German possession is 384,000
square miles.
Unlike Beira, motor cars and bicycles were in evidence in
Dar-es-Salaam, but no horses were to be seen, as in Beira. In the
South African notes mention was made of the miserable breed of horse
in Durban, also of horses being unable to live in some parts of that
country. So, on the East Coast of Africa, where horses cannot live,
and the life of Europeans is measured by but a short number of years,
there must be something radically wrong with the climate.
Numerous fresh earth mounds may be seen in graveyards in the
settlements along the East Coast. Fat men are scarce in these
districts, all having a slender frame and veiny, bleached appearance,
with drooping eyelids. Malarial and black-water fever are prevalent in
Dar-es-Salaam. White clothes, white cloth or skin shoes, and white
helmets are worn. This place has a European population of 1,000, most
of them government employes. The native population is 25,000.
Natives build their own huts, which are of mud, covered with cocoanut
leaves, and settlements are located some distance from town.
The sight of native women prisoners, with a band of iron around the
neck and a chain fastened to the first band, then to the second, and
so on, according to the number of prisoners, seemed pretty severe
punishment--too barbarous even for blacks. This is what we saw in
Dar-es-Salaam. Six or eight men and women are generally chained
together. The steel collar or band, an inch and a half wide, opens and
closes with a clasp, and the length of the chain from band to band is
between two and three feet. Groups of women were seen carrying water
on their heads in five-gallon oil-cans. The prisoners have to move at
the same time, as the chain is connected with the iron band around
each neck. The band and chain is a relic of slavery days, as we are at
a noted slave-trading center.
This German capital is the prettiest town on the East Coast of Africa.
It is smart in appearance, has an electric light plant and good
drives. Cocoanut palms grow all around, and the fragrance from the
frangi-pangi flower heavily perfumes the atmosphere and adds much to
the attractiveness of that center. Germany acquired this possession in
1886.
"Should you wear your street dress ashore, instead of the short skirt,
it may 'let the cat out of the bag,' and then we would have to pay the
full fare," one of our lady passengers cautioned her daughter who
wished to join other travelers making ready to leave the ship to take
a look at the German colony capital. Mother and daughter embarked at
Lourenzo Marques, having come from the Transvaal, their destination
being Bombay, India. The daughter, twenty, being slightly under medium
size, did not look her age. When booking their passage she was
represented as "fifteen," any one of that age or under being carried
for half rate. Short skirts, extending to just below the knees, were
worn as an age "decoy" to this point of the journey. Though Miss Agnes
bravely nursed her sheepishness, evoked by wearing "kid clothes" as
she termed the "disguise," aboard ship, she drew the line at appearing
"in public" in them. The captain having been observed leaving the
vessel in his launch, Agnes, learning of this, hurriedly donned a
"woman's" dress, joined the sightseeing party ashore, and took the
chance of being detected. Returning to the ship before the skipper,
she quickly changed street clothes to the "kid" garb, breaking her
suspense, none of the officers being any the wiser, and resumed the
journey to Bombay, as she started from the Portuguese port--a
combination of woman-juvenile-half-fare passenger.
Zanzibar, on Zanzibar Island, is located 40 miles from Dar-es-Salaam.
All the way from Durban we had been getting breaths of Asia, but
Zanzibar is like an Asia in Africa. With perhaps the exception of
Cairo and Alexandria, Egypt, Zanzibar is the largest place on the
African continent. Out of a mixed population, composed of Arabs,
Mohammedans, Hindus, Singhalese, Goanese, Parsis and natives--negroes--
only 500 are whites. Though the city was inhabited as early as the
tenth century, their first sultan did not begin to reign until 1741.
Mohammedan women--on whose features no one but husband or family are
permitted to set eyes--walking about with their faces covered in a
cloth having eye-holes cut out; palanquins, enclosed boxes
accommodating one person, are carried by two natives, one on each end
of a pole, on which the box rests, these containing the wives of Arabs
and Mohammedans; native women, ever ready to imitate the clothing of
others, are seen entirely covered in black cloth, save for the
eye-holes in their face coverings; these dark, mysterious, and weird
creatures stalk about the alleyways of Zanzibar during the day and the
night hours. The pale face of the Parsi woman, the Hindu woman with
ornaments in her nostrils, on her ears, arms, hands and toes, and the
gewgaws worn by native women, are seen at every turn. The Parsi, with
his cuff-like cap; the Singhalese with his long, oily hair and amber
haircomb; the Hindu, in his big, cloth head-covering; the bewhiskered
Arab, wearing a fez, and the black, woolly bare head of the native,
form an unusual scene on entering the city of Zanzibar. The Waswahili
are the natives, and the native language of the island, German-East
Africa, and British-East Africa is the Kiswahili.
Zanzibar, comprising the island of Pemba, 40 miles to the north, is a
British possession. The island of Zanzibar is 50 miles in length and
20 miles wide. These islands are presided over by a Sultan, Seyid
Khalifa bin Harub, but his ruling has to be approved by a British
governor-general. He is sultan in name only, but his salary is $60,000
a year. The national flag is of a plain red color. The Sultan received
his education in England.
The streets of the city are so narrow in some instances that both
sides can almost be touched by the hands extended. Houses are built of
brick and cement, and one to three stories in height. A couple of
goats are usually found tied in front of buildings, and often a donkey
may be seen munching a whisk of grass while standing on the steps of a
home. A stranger able to find his way about Zanzibar must have a
pretty level head. On entering a street, one has no assurance that the
street has an opening, for they often end in a solid building
across--a "blind alley." Doors to the buildings are heavy enough for a
jail, and the alleys, veiled women, black and suspicious-looking men,
wearing sandals and strange head-coverings, bespeak Asia. Europeans
live in another section.
A very good hospital is pointed out to the visitor, which indicates in
that part of the world a very large graveyard, Zanzibar being
regularly visited with smallpox, while malarial fever is prevalent and
bubonic plague and leprosy common.
Up to 1897 Zanzibar was one of the most noted slave-trading centers in
the world. Slaves shipped from that place numbered from 6,000 to
10,000 a year. The best building in the city is the Sultan's palace,
but this has recently been converted into an office building for
Protectorate officials; the Sultan's harem building, located in a city
park, is now used as a place of amusement; but, as Arabs own most of
the land, and also the property in the city, Zanzibar will always
remain as it is.
A distance of seven miles, from the city to Bu-bu-bu, comprises the
railway system of Zanzibar. The fare is 32 cents first-class and 16
cents second-class, the run taking 45 minutes. Passing through a
street where almost everything is sold--an Indian bazaar--one may
reach out of the window of the railway coach and pull off wearing
apparel, shoes, etc., that are displayed on rope lines outside of the
buildings on the narrow street. Through such places the train seems to
be walled in by blacks on both sides.
The rupee is in use in Zanzibar, along the coast places, and in the
interior in that section of the African continent. The value of the
rupee in American money is 32 cents, and the anna two cents. The anna
piece is nickel, with a hole in the center, and almost every one
carries these on a string. It is certainly odd to see a man pull from
his pocket a string about a foot or eighteen inches in length and take
from it one to half a dozen annas with bored-out centers.
America was the first country to establish a consulate in Zanzibar, in
1836. The natives then took a fancy to our bright-colored calico,
which they wear to-day, though close competition for that trade has
taken place through other nations importing a similar class of goods.
The sun is very hot here, and flowers are temporarily faded by 10
o'clock in the morning. Should a white person walk a few feet in the
sun bare-headed he would be very apt to fall from sunstroke.
The date palm, a tree 20 to 30 feet high, with a bare trunk, as the
cocoanut palm, but with smaller limbs and a more spreading top, grows
here. It produces its fruit in bunches, similar to the banana plant.
Some of the clusters of dates depending from the top will half fill a
barrel. A wide leaf grows from the stem, to which the dates grow, and
in time, the leaf dies and then bends. It happens, though, that when
it bends it covers and thus protects the large cluster of fruit.
Zanzibar oranges are said to be the sweetest that grow.
One may hear a few taps on a drum at a corner of an alley in the
native quarter any time--the signal that there will be a dance that
evening.
Automobiles are seen about the city, and an electric light plant and a
wireless station are among the limited public utilities.
Clove and cocoanut plantations are the principal industries of
Zanzibar. The clove tree is of the myrtle family, and the older it
grows the greater the yield. Practically all the cloves used in the
world come from the islands of Pemba and Zanzibar. There are sent to
the United States from these islands from 2,000,000 to 3,000,000
pounds of cloves each year. The output for a year is from 15,000,000
to 20,000,000 pounds. It requires 10 years' time from planting before
the clove tree blossoms. The Island of Pemba produces 75 per cent. of
a year's crop. A hurricane blew down the trees growing on Zanzibar
island in 1872, while those on Pemba island were not disturbed. The
Pemba trees are 100 years old, those of Zanzibar island only 50 years
old. They are planted 24 feet apart each way, and 100 grow on an acre.
The clove of commerce is the bud of the clove tree, picked before the
petals open. The clove we use would be the seed of the clove tree were
the petals allowed to expand. The buds are picked by natives, whose
carelessness often destroys bearing limbs. When picked, the buds are
placed on matting, and remain exposed to the sun for three days, when
they become dried. A clove tree buds for three months, so this is the
clove-bud picking period. The tree grows to a height of 30 feet, is
bushy, with small limbs, on all of which buds grow. The leaf of the
clove tree resembles that of the English poplar. The buds are more
numerous on the limbs at intervals of four and five years than during
the years between. A tree produces from five to seven pounds a year,
and the price of cloves range from 16 to 20 cents a pound. Growers
have to pay a tax to the government of 25 per cent. of their yield.
When leaving Durban I provided myself with a draft for $900 on a bank
in Bombay, India, and $50 in cash. From the passengers I heard so many
interesting things about British East Africa that I decided to go
inland from Mombasa, if I could raise the necessary money on the
Bombay draft. Taking my passport for identification, I learned from a
banker in Zanzibar that he could not advance money on the draft, but
that by cancelling the Durban draft and issuing a new one on the same
bank in Bombay he could provide me with any funds needed. I agreed to
that. On receiving the new draft I learned that $15 had been taken for
exchange.
Tanga, German East Africa, a sea junction for that part of Africa, was
our next stop. Passengers going to Europe from Durban and other points
along the East coast trans-ship to the European liners going through
the Suez Canal and Port Said.
A railway from this place pushes westward over 200 miles to the base
of Mount Kilimanjaro, which rises to a height of over 19,000 feet.
Tanga is another place that puts one in mind of a snake charming a
bird and then devouring it. Cocoanut palms grow everywhere, and the
pretty trees, frangi-pangi and flowers are enough to lure any one
there. Yet a walk to the graveyard, after observing the large number
of unsodded mounds for a population of 500, would soon alter one's
opinion. The native population is 12,000.
One of the passengers made up his mind not to shave during the voyage
from Durban to London. The Indian barber is the most useful tradesman
the world over. He carries his kit with him, and is always prowling
about for work. He will shave a man standing up or lying down; in the
rain or in the sun; in bed or on the roof of a house--any time, any
way, or any place an Indian barber will do his work. We no sooner
stepped on shore than the unshaven passenger was picked out as a
possible "job," and was shadowed by the black knights of the razor
until he returned to the ship.
Rubber plantations are numerous in this section of the colony, and
copra is another of the exports.
The horse of the East Coast of Africa is really the negro. Everything
is moved on two-wheeled trucks, pushed or pulled with ropes by
natives. No cattle or oxen were seen, so it is fair to conclude that
neither cattle nor horses can live along this section of the coast.
Any one can form an idea of what a sickly country it must be for human
beings where cattle and horses cannot exist. Fever runs down the
natives, also, but not in the same proportion as the whites.
"The last time we were in Tanga," the ship's doctor remarked on
sailing, "I suffered terribly from jumping toothache. Fortunate in
being in a port where there was a dentist, I called at his office and
had it pulled. Asking him his charge, the dentist replied,
'Seventy-five rupees' ($25)." When my eyes again settled in their
sockets, having bulged at mention of such a fee for pulling a tooth,
the doctor, in answer to a question if he did not consider the
dentist's charge exorbitant, said he was under that impression at the
time, but was not so sure of it now. "Only a handful of Europeans live
here," he philosophically went on to explain why he changed his
impression from a positive to an uncertain one, "and fever is bad. The
dentist--the only one within hundreds of miles--as most persons who
come to the tropics, aims at making enough money in a few years,
before fever robs him of his health, to take things easy for a while
afterward in a good climate. Life, with a thumping tooth and a
pumpkin-like face, was misery to me; I could not pull my tooth, and
antidotes failed to assuage the pain it caused. So, considering the
fee from various angles, I would not feel quite justified in charging
the dentist with unprofessional conduct." Notwithstanding the doctor's
reconciliation to the dentist's charge, it would seem he "paid for it
through the nose," to use a British term for "stung," the standard
rate in Africa for placing a tooth in a plate, whether one or sixteen,
being only $5 each.
CHAPTER III
Mombasa, British-East Africa, was not reached until 19 days after
sailing from Durban, although we traveled but 2,000 miles. It was a
very interesting trip, though, along the East Coast, as the ship
stopped so often to unload and take on cargo, that passengers obtained
a fair idea of that part of the world.
Back in the early '80's England and Germany resorted to every
diplomatic device to acquire that great tract of country now known as
German East Africa and British East Africa. The Sultan of Zanzibar
exercised control of a strip of the coastline, ten miles deep, north
of Portuguese East Africa to Italian Somaliland, which naturally
blocked the development of the interior. The claims of the two great
countries were finally settled by Germany getting the southern part of
the domain and England the northern part. The Sultan of Zanzibar still
claims sovereignty of the ten-mile shore strip of the Indian Ocean,
but in reality it is gone from him. The authentic history of East
Africa commences in 1498, when Vasco da Gama, the Portuguese explorer,
anchored off Mombasa.
Mombasa, located on Mombasa Island, is the chief seaport on the East
Coast north of Durban and Lourenzo Marques. It has had a checkered
career, being held at various times by Persians, Arabs, Egyptians,
Portuguese and British. To-day the blacks number 30,000 and the whites
about 500. Like most tropical places, the surroundings are naturally
attractive, but fever is always present, and bubonic plague or
smallpox may break out at any moment.
Three years is the limit of residence here for a European. Some part
of the human system is bound to give way if one does not leave before
the three-year period expires. Two and a half years' residence and six
months' vacation in Europe is the usual custom. The tropical climate
seems to center its force on the muscles of the stomach, and this is
one reason why every one wears flannel bands. Most of the business men
are Asiatics. Natives take the place of horses here also, goods being
moved on trucks pushed and pulled by black men. England's solid system
of doing things is in evidence at every turn--notably in the good,
clean streets, parks and docks.
Before the railroad was pushed to the eastern shore of Victoria Nyanza
the daring Europeans of early days had to travel four months before
the western terminus was reached. Nowadays two days' travel by rail
will take one into the heart of Africa. The country then, as it is
more or less to-day, was alive with ferocious beasts, and some of the
native tribes were warlike. During the winter season there is no rain
for a period of from four to six months. Only men of iron would tackle
such a journey. The Arabs, however, had preceded the whites.
On the Uganda Railway we boarded a train for Nairobi. For some
distance the road passed through a tropical growth, when we entered
the Taru Desert. Small trees of dense and thorny spreading limbs grow
on this land. The lower limbs are brashy and bare of bark, and the
ones above are leafless and gnarled, although alive. The Taru Desert
is a leafless jungle. No bird life was apparent save vultures, whose
repulsive appearance seemed in keeping with the growth on which they
rested. Fever trees were mentioned earlier in this Leg, and those
growing here suggested the possibility of their exuding something
noxious--if not odors leading to some form of fever, then, perhaps, to
stomach trouble.
A lone native, and often groups, were seen, with only a clout about
the loins, carrying a long pole with a spear fixed to the end, at the
station or traversing a native path leading somewhere, as there were
no signs of habitation near the railway. Erect, slender, bareheaded
and barefooted, he looked every inch the savage warrior one reads
about.