Lieutenant Hunt’s face meeting the light of the moon was the first

intimation conveyed to the pirate that he had made a mistake. He

immediately plunged overboard, and before the officer had sufficiently

recovered his astonishment to know whether he was dreaming or waking,

or to rouse his crew, a discharge from three or four cannon within a

few yards, and the cutting through the rigging by the various missiles

with which the guns were loaded, soon convinced him that it was stern

reality. It was well that the men were lying down when this discharge

took place, as not one of them was hurt; but on jumping to their legs

they found themselves closely pressed by two large war prahus, one on

either side.

To return the fire, cut the cable, man the oars, and back astern to

gain room, was the work of a minute; but now came the tug of war; it

was a case of life and death. The crew of the “Bachelor” fought, says

Captain Keppel quaintly, “as they ought.” Quarter was not expected on

either side; and the quick deadly aim of the marines prevented the

pirates reloading their guns. The Illanun pirate vessels were built in

the peculiar fashion already noticed, that is with partitions through

which ports are bored for working the guns, and these barriers had

to be cut away by round shot before the musketry could be brought to

bear effectually. This done, the grape and canister of the “Jolly

Bachelor” told with fearful execution. In the meantime the prahus had

been pressing forward to board, while the English boat backed astern;

but as soon as this service was achieved, the men of the latter dropped

their oars and seizing their muskets dashed on. The work was sharp,

but short, and the slaughter great. While one pirate boat was sinking

and an effort made to secure her the other escaped by rounding a point

of rocks, where a third and larger prahu, hitherto unseen, came to her

assistance, and putting fresh hands on board and taking her in tow,

succeeded in getting off, although chased by the “Jolly Bachelor,”

after setting fire to the crippled prize which blew up and sank before

the conquerors got back to the scene of action.

The sight that presented itself to the victors on boarding the captured

prahu must indeed have been a frightful one; none of the pirates waited

on board for even the chance of receiving either quarter or mercy, but

all those capable of moving had thrown themselves into the water. In

addition to the killed, some lying across the thwarts with their oars

in their hands at the bottom of the prahu, in which there was about

three feet of blood and water, were seen protruding the mangled remains

of eighteen or twenty bodies.

Detestable, however, as is the trade of war, especially when carried

on from mercenary motives, it is hard for us, with so much of the salt

of the sea in our blood, to regard these savage Dayak rovers without

something very like sympathy. Certain it is that they possess the chief

elements of a great people, perseverance, courage, and a restless

yearning for adventure--much the same sort of folks, dear reader, as

those from which you and I sprang. But our freebooting ancestors were

heroes and led by heroes, say you. Well, here is a Dayak hero, pictured

by one who is himself a hero--a true British man of war and one little

likely to over estimate valour, or to mistake it on the score of

sentimentality.

“Among the mortally wounded lay the young commander of the prahu, one

of the most noble forms of the human race; his countenance handsome as

the hero of oriental romance, and his bearing wonderfully impressive

and touching. He was shot in front and through the lungs, and his end

was rapidly approaching. He endeavoured to speak, but could not. He

looked as if he had something of importance to communicate, and a shade

of disappointment and regret passed over his brow when he felt that

every effort was unavailing and that his manly strength and daring

spirit were dissolving into the dark night of annihilation. The pitying

conquerors raised him gently up and he was seated in comparative ease,

for the welling out of the blood was less distressing, but the end

speedily came; he folded his arms heroically across his wounded breast,

fixed his eyes on the British seamen around, and casting one long

glance at the ocean--the theatre of his daring exploits, on which he

had so often fought and triumphed--expired without a sigh.”

It is not a little singular, however, that although they display so

much courage and indifference to death in naval warfare, their military

tactics are of the very meanest order and are executed with such

lukewarmness that to see them as soldiers and nothing else would be

to conceive them to be the greatest curs on the face of the earth. Of

this Rajah Brooke had most rueful yet ludicrous experience. Thanks

to his own indomitable pluck and the assistance (sparse enough at

best) granted him by the British government, together with that of

the various Bornean tribes whom Brooke had won over to his interest,

the marauding Dayaks were very considerably lessened in numbers and,

better still, damped in piratical ardour; still there were a few very

formidable bodies inhabiting forts along the coast whose interest

it was to favour piracy and who were known to do their earnest best

to thwart the endeavours of the European Rajah. Therefore a grand

council of war was held, at which were present various Malay, Chinese,

and Dayak leaders, and Sir J. Brooke, and it was formally resolved

to combine the various forces and to proceed to storm and carry the

obnoxious forts in a regular way.

All were willing enough to give their word; but our countryman seems

from the very onset to have had a dismal foreboding of what would be

the result. “To judge,” says he, “by the sample of the council, I

should form a very unfavourable expectation of their conduct in action.

Macota (a chief, as are the rest whose names are here mentioned) is

lively and active, but, either from indisposition or want of authority,

undecided. The Capitan China is lazy and silent; Abong Mia and Datu

Naraja stupid.... I may here state my motives for being a spectator

of, or participator (as may turn out) in, this scene. In the first

place, I must confess that curiosity strongly prompted me; since to

witness the Malays, Chinese, and Dayaks in warfare was so new that the

novelty alone might plead an excuse for this desire. But it was not the

only motive, for my presence is a stimulus to our own party, and will

probably depress the others in proportion.”

Besides swords and spears and muskets and some sort of artillery, both

parties availed themselves of other favorite Bornean arms, including

the ranjow; “these ranjows are made of bamboo pointed fine and stuck in

the ground; and there are, besides, holes about three feet deep filled

with these spikes and afterwards lightly covered, which are called

patabong. Another obstacle consists of a spring formed by bending back

a stiff cane, with a sharp bamboo attached to it, which, fastened by

a slight twine, flies forcibly against any object passing through the

bush and brushing against it: they resemble the mole traps in England.

The Borneans have a great dread of these snares; and the way they

deal with them is by sending out parties of Dayaks during the night

to clear the path of such dangers. “The Sambas Chinese (adherents of

the Brooke party) were wretchedly armed, having no guns and scarcely

any muskets; but swords, spears, and shields, together with forty long

thin iron tubes with the bore of a musket and carrying a slug. These

primitive weapons were each managed by _two_ men, one being the

carrier of the ordnance, the other the gunner; for whilst one holds the

tube on his shoulder the other takes aim, turns away his head, applies

his match, and is pleased with the sound. Their mode of loading is as

curious as the piece and its mode of discharge. Powder is poured in,

the end knocked on the ground, and the slug with another knock sent on

the powder without either ramming or cartridge. Indeed it is difficult

to imagine any weapon more rude, awkward, or inefficient. The Borneans

in fighting wear a quilted jacket or spenser which reaches over the

hips, and from its size has a most unserviceable appearance, the bare

legs and arms sticking out from under this puffed-out coat like the

sticks which support the garments of a scarecrow.”

Setting sail with a fleet of vessels containing his gallant army,

in course of time the enemy’s neighbourhood was reached and a fort

built about a mile from the stronghold of their foes. It should be

stated that to supply themselves with materials for this fort another

near home was taken down and the timbers loaded into spare boats.

No opposition was offered. The ground was cleared of jungle; piles

driven in a square about fifteen yards to each face; and the earth

from the centre, scooped out and intermixed with reeds, was heaped up

about five feet high inside the piles. At the four corners were small

watch-houses, and along the parapet of earth a narrow walk connecting

them. While some of the army was thus employed another portion of it

surrounded this the main body of the defence by an outer work made by

slight sticks run into the ground, with cross binding of split bamboos,

and bristling with a _chevaux de frise_ of sharpened bamboos about

breast high. The fastenings of the entire work were of ratan, which is

found in plenty. The entire fortress was commenced and finished within

eight hours.

Knowing the weakness of the enemy, Sir J. Brooke now proposed that they

should sally out and attack them, and in case of pursuit or severe

repulse it was only a matter of ten minutes’ run to regain the fort,

where they could defy further molestation. But the proposition took the

army aghast. What! walk right up to the brass guns? Surely the English

Rajah must be mad. The attack must be made from behind a wall, or not

at all; and why not, when to build forts was so easy? and it was only a

matter of so many seven hours’ labour to build fort after fort as they

advanced and until they had arrived within convenient musket range of

the enemy. So the Grand Army retired to bed.

Next morning they were up and doing, hammering and tinkering at the new

stockade. In the midst of the work, however, there was a tremendous

commotion--the enemy was advancing. There could be no mistake about

it: you could hear their shouts and the banging of their war gongs

approaching nearer and nearer. The Brooke army, nothing daunted replied

with yells just as furious and defiant, and by way of refreshing their

courage, several charges of powder and shot were expended in the air.

The enemy approach within hail, and the excitement is grand. “We are

coming! we are coming!” shouted the rebels; “lay aside your muskets,

and come out and fight us with swords.”--“Come on,” replied the others;

“we are building a stockade and want to fight you.” Things having

arrived at this critical pass, there is no knowing what might have

been the result, when merciful nature, to avert the horrors of blood

and carnage, interposed with a heavy shower of rain, before which the

rebels retreated, followed by the derisive shouts of the Borneans, who

were under cover, and whose leaders immediately proceeded to offer a

fervent thanksgiving for the victory gained, the soldiers responding

with edifying earnestness, and then all retired to rest calmly as on

the preceding night.

Next morning, however, Sir J. Brooke, whose curiosity was long since

satisfied, and who began to grow tired of witnessing this novel mode of

warfare, encouraged the troops to make an advance, to proceed indeed

to within three hundred yards of the enemy’s stronghold, and there

to erect a new stockade, backing his urging with the promise to send

aboard for two six-pounder carronades with which to mount it. During

the progress of this work Sir J. Brooke took occasion to inquire of

the Dayak commander, Macota, if this was the way a battle was always

conducted in these parts. Macota was very eager to set our countryman

right on a point that so closely affected the honour of his nation. The

enemy, he declared, during his last campaign were much more courageous

than now. Stockade was opposed to stockade, and the fighting constant

and severe; and so ably had Macota generalled his troops, that during

two months he had not lost a single man, while _five_ of the enemy

were stretched upon the field.

By the time the fort was finished and the guns arrived, the Brooke army

had been reinforced, so that it numbered five hundred men of one sort

and another. While the guns were being fixed the enemy opened fire,

but were speedily checked, and in a quarter of an hour had to bewail

a breach in the walls of their fortress large enough to admit several

men together. “Seeing the effect,” says Rajah Brooke, “I proposed

to Macota to storm the place with one hundred and fifty Chinese and

Malays. The way from one fort to the other was protected. The enemy

dared not shew themselves, for the fire of the grape and canister, and

nothing could have been easier; but my proposition caused a commotion

as difficult to describe as forget. The Chinese consented, and Macota,

the commander-in-chief, was willing; but his inferiors were backward,

and there arose a scene which shewed me the full violence of Malay

passions, and their infuriated madness when once roused. Pangeran

Houseman (one of the leaders) urged with energy the advantage of the

proposal, and in the course of a speech lashed himself into a state of

fury; he jumped to his feet, and with demoniac gestures stamped round

and round, dancing a war dance after the most approved fashion. His

countenance grew livid, his eyes glared, his features inflamed, and

for my part, not being able to interpret the torrent of his oratory, I

thought the man possessed of a devil, and about to ‘run a muck.’ But

after a minute or two of this dance he resumed his seat, furious and

panting, but silent. In reply, Subtu urged some objections to my plan,

which was warmly supported by Illudeen, who apparently hurt Subtu’s

feelings; for the indolent, the placid Subtu leapt to his feet, seized

his spear, and rushed to the entrance of the stockade with his passions

desperately aroused. I never saw finer action than when, with spear

raised and pointing to the enemy’s fort, he challenged any one to rush

on with him. Houseman and Surrudeen (the bravest of the brave) like

madmen seized their swords to inflame the courage of the rest. It was a

scene of fiends: but in vain; for though they appeared ready enough to

quarrel and fight amongst themselves, there was no move to attack the

enemy. All was confusion; the demon of discord and madness was among

them, and I was glad to see them cool down, when the dissentients to

the assault proposed making a round to-night and attacking to-morrow.”

And so this precious game of “if you will I will,” and “you hit me

first,” was continued for many days,--more days indeed than the reader

would guess if he were left to his own judgment. The row between Subtu

and Illudeen took place on the 31st of October, and on the 18th of the

following January the enemy was routed and his forts destroyed.

One of the most favourite of Dayak war weapons is the “sumpitan,”

a long hollow reed, through which is propelled by the breath small

darts or arrows, chiefly formidable on account of the poison with

which their tips are covered. According to Mundy and other writers

on Bornean manners and customs, the arrows are contained in a bamboo

case hung at the side, and at the bottom of this quiver is the poison

of the upas. The arrow is a piece of wood sharp-pointed, and inserted

in a socket made of the pith of a tree, which fits the tube of the

blow-pipe. The natives carry a small calabash for these arrow heads,

and on going into action prepare a sufficient number, and fresh dip

the points in the poison, as its deadly influence does not continue

long. When they face an enemy the box at the side is open; and, whether

advancing or retreating, they fire the poisoned missiles with great

rapidity and precision: some hold four spare arrows between the fingers

of the hand which grasps the sumpitan, whilst others take their side

case.

In advancing, the sumpitan is carried at the mouth and elevated, and

they will discharge at least five arrows to one compared with a musket.

Beyond a distance of twenty yards they do not shoot with certainty,

from the lightness of the arrow, but on a calm day, the range may

be a hundred yards. The poison is considered deadly by the Kayans,

but the Malays do not agree in this belief. “My own impression is,”

says Captain Mundy, “that the consequences resulting from a wound

are greatly exaggerated, though if the poison be fresh death may

occasionally ensue; but, decidedly, when it has been exposed for any

time to the air it loses its virulence. My servant was wounded in the

foot by an arrow which had been kept about two months; blood flowed

from the puncture, which caused me considerable alarm; but sulphuric

acid being applied in conjunction with caustic directly afterwards, he

felt no bad effects whatever.”

All the tribes who use the sumpitan, from their peculiar mode of

fighting, and the dread of the weapon, are called Nata Hutan, or “Wood

Devils.” Besides the sumpitan they also wear the “ilang,” or sword,

which is carved at the angle in the rude shape of a horse’s head, and

ornamented with tufts of hair, red or black; the blades of these swords

are remarkable, one side being convex, the other concave. They are

usually very short, but of good metal and fine edge. These warriors

wear coats of deer hide, and caps of basket work, some fantastically

decorated; and a shield hung over their backs of stout wood, in

addition to the weapons already mentioned, forms their equipment for

service. It is really curious to witness their movements when the order

is given to go out to skirmish--one by one, with a quick pace, yet

steady and silent tread, they glide into the bushes or long grass,

gain the narrow paths, and gradually disappear in the thickest jungle.

The chief weapon used by the Amazonian Indians closely resembles the

Dayak sumpitan, and is called “pucuna.” Its manufacture and use is thus

graphically described by Captain Reid:--

“When the Amazonian Indian wishes to manufacture for himself a

_pucuna_ he goes out into the forest and searches for two tall

straight stems of the ‘pashiuba miri’ palm. These he requires of

such thickness that one can be contained within the other. Having

found what he wants, he cuts both down and carries them home to his

molocca. Neither of them is of such dimensions as to render this either

impossible or difficult. He now takes a long slender rod--already

prepared for the purpose--and with this pushes out the pith from both

stems, just as boys do when preparing their pop-guns from the stems

of the elder-tree. The rod thus used is obtained from another species

of _Iriartea_ palm, of which the wood is very hard and tough. A

little tuft of fern-root, fixed upon the end of the rod, is then drawn

backward and forward through the tubes, until both are cleared of any

pith which may have adhered to the interior; and both are polished by

this process to the smoothness of ivory. The palm of smaller diameter,

being scraped to a proper size, is now inserted into the tube of the

larger, the object being to correct any crookedness in either, should

there be such; and if this does not succeed, both are whipped to some

straight beam or post, and thus left till they become straight. One end

of the bore, from the nature of the tree, is always smaller than the

other; and to this end is fitted a mouthpiece of two peccary tusks to

concentrate the breath of the hunter when blowing into the tube. The

other end is the muzzle; and near this, on the top, a sight is placed,

usually a tooth of the ‘paca’ or some other rodent animal. This sight

is glued on with a gum which another tropic tree furnishes. Over the

outside, when desirous of giving the weapon an ornamental finish, the

maker winds spirally a shining creeper, and then the _pucuna_ is

ready for action.

“Sometimes only a single shank of palm is used, and instead of the pith

being pushed out, the stem is split into two equal parts throughout its

whole extent. The heart substance being then removed, the two pieces

are brought together, like the two divisions of a cedar-wood pencil,

and tightly bound with a sipo.

“The _pucuna_ is usually about an inch and a half in diameter at

the thickest end, and the bore about equal to that of a pistol of

ordinary calibre. In length, however, the weapon varies from eight to

twelve feet.

“This singular instrument is designed, not for propelling a bullet, but

an arrow; but as this arrow differs altogether from the common kind, it

also needs to be described.

“The blow-gun arrow is about fifteen or eighteen inches long, and

is made of a piece of split bamboo; but when the ‘patawa’ palm can

be found, this tree furnishes a still better material, in the long

spines that grow out from the sheathing bases of its leaves. These

are eighteen inches in length, of a black colour, flattish though

perfectly straight. Being cut to the proper length--which most of them

are without cutting--they are whittled at one end to a sharp point.

This point is dipped about three inches deep in the celebrated ‘curare’

poison; and just where the poison mark terminates, a notch is made, so

that the head will be easily broken off when the arrow is in the wound.

Near the other end a little soft down of silky cotton (the floss of the

_bombax ceiba_) is twisted around into a smooth mass of the shape

of a spinning-top, with its larger end towards the nearer extremity of

the arrow. The cotton is held in its place by being lightly whipped on

by the delicate thread or fibre of a _bromelia_, and the mass is

just big enough to fill the tube by gently pressing it inward.

“The arrow thus made is inserted, and whenever the game is within

reach the Indian places his mouth to the lower end or mouthpiece, and

with a strong ‘puff,’ which practice enables him to give, he sends

the little messenger upon its deadly errand. He can hit with unerring

aim at the distance of forty or fifty paces; but he prefers to shoot

in a direction nearly vertical, as in that way he can take the surest

aim. As his common game--birds and monkeys--are usually perched upon

the higher branches of tall trees, their situation just suits him.

Of course it is not the mere wound of the arrow that kills these

creatures, but the poison, which in two or three minutes after they

have been hit, will bring either bird or monkey to the ground. When

the latter is struck he would be certain to draw out the arrow; but

the notch, already mentioned, provides against this, as the slightest

wrench serves to break off the envenomed head.

“These arrows are dangerous things--even for the manufacturer of

them--to play with: they are therefore carried in a quiver, and with

great care--the quiver consisting either of a bamboo joint or a neat

wicker case.”

To return, however, to our savage friends the Borneans. Like almost all

savages under the sun, they have their war dances:--

“We had one day a dance of the Illanuns, and Gillolos; they might both

be called war dances, but are very different. The performer with the

Illanuns is decked out with a fine helmet (probably borrowed from our

early voyagers) ornamented with bird-of-paradise feathers. Two gold

belts crossed like our soldiers, over the breast, are bound at the

waist with a fantastical garment reaching half-way down the thigh,

and composed of various coloured silk and woollen threads one above

another. The sword or kempilan is decorated at the handle with a yard

or two of red cloth, and the long upright shield is covered with small

rings, which clash as the performer goes through his evolutions.

The dance itself consists of a variety of violent warlike gestures;

stamping, striking, advancing, retreating, turning, falling, yelling,

with here and there bold stops, and excellent as to _aplomb_,

which might have elicited the applause of the opera-house; but

generally speaking, the performance was outrageously fierce, and so

far natural as approaching to an actual combat; and in half an hour

the dancer, a fine young man, was so exhausted that he fell fainting

into the arms of his comrades. Several others succeeded, but not

equal to the first, and we had hardly a fair opportunity of judging

of the Maluku dance, from its short continuance; but it is of a more

gentle nature, advancing with the spear, stealthily casting it, then

retreating with the sword and shield. The Maluku shield, it should be

observed, is remarkably narrow, and is brandished somewhat in the same

way as the single-stick player uses his stick, or the Irishman his

shillalah, that is to say, it is held nearly in the centre, and whirled

every way round.”

The following extract from Sir J. Brooke’s Bornean Journal will serve

to initiate the curious reader in the peculiarly horrid custom of

“head-hunting,” as observed in this part of the world. Close to the

Rajah’s residence were located a party of Sigo Dayaks, who happily

discovered in good time an incursion of their deadly enemies the Singés

into their territory:--

“The Sigos taking the alarm, cut off their retreat and killed two of

the Singé Dayaks, and obtained altogether five heads, though they

lost two, and those belonging to their principal warriors. This news

reaching me, I hurried up to the hill and arrived just after part of

the war party had brought the heads. On our ascending the mountain we

found the five heads carefully watched about half a mile from the

town, in consequence of the non-arrival of some of the war party. They

had erected a temporary shed close to the place where these miserable

remnants of noisome mortality were deposited, and they were guarded by

about thirty young men in their finest dresses, composed principally

of scarlet jackets ornamented with shells, turbans of the native bark

cloth dyed bright yellow and spread on the head, and decked with an

occasional feather, flower, or twig of leaves. Nothing can exceed their

partiality for these trophies; and in retiring from the war path, the

man who has been so fortunate as to obtain a head, hangs it about his

neck, and instantly commences his return to his tribe. If he sleep on

the way, the precious burden, though decaying and offensive, is not

loosened, but rests in his lap, whilst his head (and nose) reclines on

his knees.

“On the following morning the heads were brought up to the village,

attended by a number of young men, all dressed in their best, and were

carried to Parembam’s house, amid the beating of gongs and the firing

of one or two guns. They were then disposed of in a conspicuous place

in the public hall of Parembam. The music sounded, and the men danced

the greater part of the day, and towards evening carried them away in

procession through all the campongs except three or four just above me.

The women in these processions crowd round the heads as they proceed

from house to house, and put sirih and betel-nut in the mouths of the

ghastly dead, and welcome them. After this they are carried back in the

same triumph, deposited in an airy place, and left to dry. During this

process, for seven, eight, and ten days, they are watched by the boys

of the age of six to ten years, and during this time they never stir

from the public hall: they are not permitted to put their foot out of

it whilst engaged in this sacred trust. Thus are the youths initiated.

“For a long time after the heads are hung up, the men nightly meet and

beat their gongs, and chant addresses to them, which were rendered

thus to me. ‘Your head is in our dwelling, but your spirit wanders to

your own country. Your head and your spirit are now ours; persuade,

therefore, your countrymen to be slain by us! Speak to the spirits of

your tribe; let them wander in the fields, that when we come again to

their country we may get more heads, and that we may bring the heads of

your brethren, and hang them by your head,’ etc. The tone of this chant

is loud and monotonous, and I am not able to say how long it is sung,

but certainly for a month after the arrival of the heads, as one party

here had had a head for that time, and were still exhorting it.

“These are their customs and modes of warfare, and I may conclude by

saying, that though their trophies are more disgusting, yet their wars

are neither so bloody, nor their cruelties so great, as those of the

North American Indian. They slay all they meet with of their enemies,

men, women, and children; but this is common to all wild tribes. They

have an implacable spirit of revenge as long as the war lasts, retort

evil for evil, and retaliate life for life: and as I have before

said, the heads are the trophies, as the scalps are to the red men.

But on the contrary, they never torture their enemies, nor do they

devour them, and peace can always be restored amongst them by a very

moderate payment. In short, there is nothing new in their feelings or

in their mode of showing them, no trait remarkable for cruelty, no

head hunting for the sake of head hunting. They act precisely on the

same impulses as other wild men: war arises from passion or interest,

peace from defeat or fear. As friends they are faithful, just, and

honest; as enemies, bloodthirsty and cunning; patient on the war path,

and enduring fatigue, hunger, and the want of sleep with cheerfulness

and resolution. As woodmen, they are remarkably acute, and on all

their excursions carry with them a number of ranjows, which, when

they retreat, they stick in behind them at intervals at a distance of

twenty, fifty, or a hundred yards, so that a hotly-pursuing enemy gets

checked, and many severely wounded. Their arms consist of a sword, an

iron-headed spear, a few wooden spears, a knife worn at the right side,

with a sirih pouch or small basket. Their provision is a particular

kind of sticky rice boiled in bamboos. When once they have struck their

enemies, or failed, they return without pausing to their homes.”

Among the Dayaks and the Samoans heads are the precious war trophies;

among the Indians of North America the scalp alone suffices; the

Tinguian of the Philippine Islands, with a refinement of barbarism far

excelling his brother savage, must have his enemy’s _brains_.

While La Gironiere was sojourning at Palan, one of the seventeen

villages of which Tinguia is composed, news arrived that a battle had

been fought and several renowned warriors captured. Therefore there was

to be a brain feast.

“Towards eleven o’clock the chiefs of the town, followed by all the

population, directed their steps towards the large shed at the end of

the village. There every one took his place on the ground, each party

headed by its chiefs, occupying a place marked out for it beforehand.

In the middle of the circle formed by the chiefs of the warriors were

large vessels full of _basi_, a beverage made with the fermented

juice of the sugar-cane, and four hideous heads of Guinans entirely

disfigured,--these were the trophies of the victory. When all the

assistants had taken their places, a champion of Laganguilan y Madalag,

took one of the heads and presented it to the chiefs of the town, who

showed it to all the assistants, making a long speech comprehending

many praises for the conquerors. This discourse being over, the warrior

took the head, divided it with strokes of his hatchet, and took out

the brains. During this operation so unpleasant to witness, another

champion got a second head and handed it to the chiefs; the same speech

was delivered, then he broke the skull to pieces in like manner and

took out the brains. The same was done with the four remaining skulls

of the subdued enemies. When the brains were taken out, the young girls

pounded them with their hands into the vases containing the liquor of

the fermented sugar-cane; they stirred the mixture round, and then

the vases were taken to the chiefs, who dipped in their small osier

goblets through the fissures of which the liquid part ran out, and

the solid part that remained at the bottom they drank with ecstatic

sensuality. I felt quite sick at this scene so entirely new to me.

After the chieftains’ turn came the turn of the champions. The vases

were presented to them and each one sipped with delight this frightful

drink, to the noise of wild songs. There was really something infernal

in this sacrifice to victory.

“We sat in a circle, and these vases were carried round. I well

understood that we were about undergoing a disgusting test. Alas! I had

not long to wait for it. The warriors planted themselves before me and

presented me with the _basi_ and the frightful cup. All eyes were

fixed upon me. The invitation was so direct that to refuse it would

perhaps be exposing myself to death. It is impossible to describe the

interior conflict that passed within me. I would rather have preferred

the carbine of a bandit five paces from my chest, or await, as I

had already done, the impetuous attack of the wild buffalo. I shall

never forget that awful moment; it struck me with terror and disgust;

however, I constrained myself, nothing betraying my emotion. I imitated

the savages, and dipping the osier goblet into the drink, I approached

it to my lips and passed it to the unfortunate Alila (Gironiere’s

servant and companion), who could not avoid this infernal beverage. The

sacrifice was complete, the libations were over, but not the songs.

The _basi_ is a very spirituous and inebriating liquor, and the

assistants who had partaken rather too freely of it sang louder to

the noise of the tom-tom and the gong, while the champions divided the

human skulls into small pieces destined to be sent as presents to all

their friends. The distribution was made during the sitting, after

which the chiefs declared the ceremony over. They then danced. The

savages divided themselves into two lines, and howling as if they were

furious madmen, or terribly provoked, they jumped about, laying their

right hand upon the shoulder of their partners and changing places

with them. These dances continued all day; at last night came on, each

inhabitant repaired with his family and some few guests to his abode,

and soon afterwards tranquillity was restored.”

In defending the system of warfare practised by the Dayaks, Rajah

Brooke specially instances the thirst for blood and general cruelty

evinced by the savage Indian warrior of North America. Like other

barbarians the North-American Indian has his European and American

champions--Catlin among the latter--who profess to see in this savage

nothing vile or mean or cruel, but, on the contrary, all that is brave,

generous, and hospitable. The said champions, however, overlook the

fact that bravery and generosity as exhibited amongst one’s friends are

but insignificant virtues as compared with what they are when displayed

towards an enemy; indeed, in the former case they may scarcely be

reckoned virtues at all, but merely social amenities, lacking which,

man ceases to be companionable. As enemies, how do North-American

savages treat each other? Let what has already been said on this

subject in these pages, as well as what here follows, furnish an answer

to the question.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXII.

Wooing a war dream--Companions in arms--The squaw of

sacrifice--On the march--Bragging warriors--Deeds of Indian men

of war--Swallowing an Indian’s horse--The belle of the party--An

instance of Indian heroism--How to serve an enemy--Savage

Duelists--A story of a precious scalp--The Indian warrior’s

confidence in dreams--Concerning Indian canoes--A boat made

up with stitches--Women boat-builders--Samoan warfare--The

Samoans’ war tools and symbols--A narrow escape--“Perhaps upward

the face!”--A massacre of Christians--Treachery of the Pine

Islanders--The fate of “The Sisters”--The scoundrelly Norfolk

Island men--A little story told by Mr. Coulter--The useful

carronades--The “one unnecessary shot”--How it might have been.

Mr. Kohl informs us that, when a chief of the North-American Indians

is meditating a war expedition, it is of the first importance that

he should “dream” about it. He does not, however, choose to wait for

his dream in the ordinary manner, but seats himself for the express

purpose, concentrates his every thought on the subject, and seeks to

gain good dreams for it before he proceeds to carry his war project

into execution.

He keeps apart from his family, and, like a hermit, retires to a

solitary lodge built expressly for the purpose. There he sits whole

evenings on a mat, beating the drum and muttering gloomy magic

songs, which he will break off to sigh and lament. He has all sorts

of apparitions while lying in his bed; the spirits of his relatives

murdered by the enemy visit him, and incite him to revenge. Other

spirits come and show him the way into the enemy’s camp, promise him

victory, tell him at times accurately where and how he will meet the

foe and how many of them he will kill. If his drum and song are heard

frequently in the evenings, a friend will come to him, and sitting

down on the mat by his side will say: “What is the matter with thee,

Black Cloud? Why dreamest thou? What grief is oppressing thee?” The

Black Cloud then opens his heart, tells him how his father’s brother

was scalped three years back by their hereditary enemies, the Sioux,

his cousin last year, and so on, and how thoughts of his forefathers

has now come to him. They have often appeared to him in his dreams and

allowed him no rest with their entreaties for vengeance. He will tell

him, too, a portion of the auguries and signs he has received in his

dream about a brilliant victory he is destined to gain and of the ways

and means that will conduct him to it. Still only a portion, for he

generally keeps the main point to himself. It is his secret, just as

among us the plan of the campaign is the commander-in-chief’s secret.

The friend, after listening to all this, if the affair seems promising,

will take to the drum in his turn, and aid his friend with his dreams.

The latter, if placing full confidence in him, appoints him his

associate or adjutant, and both place themselves at the head of the

undertaking. They always consider it better that there should be two

leaders, in order that if the dreams of one have not strength enough

the other may help him out.

These two _chefs-de-guerre_ now sit together the whole winter

through, smoke countless pipes, beat the drum in turn, mutter magic

songs the whole night, consult over the plan of operations, and send

tobacco to their friends as an invitation to them to take part in the

campaign. The winter is the season of consultation, for war is rarely

carried on then, partly because the canoe could not be employed on the

frozen lakes, and partly because the snow would betray their trail and

the direction of their march too easily.

If the two are agreed on all points, if they have assembled a

sufficient number of recruits and allies, and have also settled the

time of the foray--for instance, arranged that the affair shall begin

when the leaves are of such a size, or when such a tree is in blossom,

and this time has at length arrived, they first arrange a universal war

dance with their relatives and friends, at which the women are present,

painted black like the men. The squaws appear at it with dishevelled

hair, and with the down of the wild duck strewn over their heads. A

similar war dance is also performed in the lodges of all the warriors

who intend to take part in the expedition.

If the undertaking and the band of braves be at all important, it

is usually accompanied by a maiden, whom they call “the squaw of

sacrifice.” She is ordinarily dressed in white: among the Sioux, for

instance, in a white tanned deer or buffalo robe, and a red cloth

is wrapped round her head. Among several prairie tribes, as the

Black-feet, this festally adorned sacrifice squaw leads a horse by

the bridle, which carries a large medicine-bag, and a gaily decorated

pipe. Among the Ojibbeways, who have no horses, and usually make their

expeditions by water, this maiden is seated in a separate canoe.

When all have taken their places in full war-paint, they begin their

melancholy death-song and push off.

If the expedition is really important--if the leader of the band is

very influential--he will have sent tobacco to other chiefs among

his friends; and if they accept it, and divide it among many of their

partisans, other war bands will have started simultaneously from the

villages, and come together at the place of assembly already arranged.

They naturally take with them as little as possible, and are mostly

half naked in order to march easily. They do not even burden themselves

with much food, for they starve and fast along the road, not through

any pressure of circumstances, but because this fasting is more or less

a religious war custom.

They also observe all sorts of things along the road, which are in part

most useful, precautionary measures, in part superstitious customs.

Thus, they will never sit down in the shade of a tree, or scratch their

heads, at least not with their fingers. The warriors, however, are

permitted to scratch themselves with a piece of wood or a comb.

The young men who go on the war trail for the first time, have, like

the women, a cloth or species of cap on the head, and usually walk with

drooping head, speak little, or not at all, and are not allowed to join

in the dead or war songs. Lastly, they are not permitted to suck the

marrow from the bone of any game that is caught and eaten during the

march. There are also numerous matters to be observed in stepping in

and out of the canoes on the war trail. Thus, the foot must not on any

condition be wetted.

The only things they carry with them, besides their arms and pipes, are

their medicine-bags. These they inspect before starting, as carefully

as our soldiers do their cartridge-boxes, and place in them all the

best and most powerful medicines, and all their relics, magic spells,

pieces of paper, etc., in order that the aid of all the guardian

spirits may be ensured them.

The same authority gives us a sample of Indian war dances and speeches:

“By the afternoon all were ready, and the grand pipe of peace, they

intended to hand to the great father, was properly adorned with red

feathers, blue drawings, strings of wampum, etc.

“It occurred to me that although it was after all but a ceremony, the

Indians regarded the matter very solemnly and earnestly. According to

traditional custom the pipe of peace passed from tent to tent and from

mouth to mouth among the warriors. When each had smoked, the procession

started and marched with drums beating, fluttering feather-flags and

flying-otter, fox, and skunk tails through the village, to the open

space before the old fort of the North West Company. Here they put up

a wooden post, and close to it their war flag, after which the dances,

speeches, and songs began.

“A circle of brown skinned dancers was formed, with the musicians and

singers in the centre. The musicians, a few young fellows, cowered

down on the ground, beat a drum, and shook a calabash, and some other

instruments, which were very primitive. One had only a board, which

he hammered with a big knife, while holding his hollow hand beneath

it as a species of sounding board. The principal singers were half a

dozen women wrapped up in dark cloaks, who uttered a monotonous and

melancholy chant, while keeping their eyes stedfastly fixed on the

ground. The singing resembled the sound of a storm growling in the

distance. To the music the warriors hopped round in a circle, shaking

the otter, fox, and beaver tails attached to their arms, feet, and

heads.

“At times, the singing and dancing were interrupted; adorned with

flying hair and skins, a warrior walked into the circle, raised his

tomahawk, and struck the post a smart blow, as a signal that he was

going to describe his hero deeds. Then he began to narrate in a loud

voice, and very fluently, some horrible story in which he had played

the chief part. He swung the tomahawk, and pointed to the scars and

wounds on his naked body in confirmation of his story, giving the post

a heavy blow now and then. Many had painted their scars a blood-red

colour, and their gesticulations were most striking when they described

the glorious moment of scalping. Although surrounded by many kind

interpreters, who translated all that was said at once into English or

French, I fear it would lead me too far were I to write down all that

was said. Here is a specimen, however:--

“Many speeches were begun in a humorous fashion. One little fellow

bounded into the circle, and after striking the post, went on, ‘My

friends, that I am little you can all see, and I require no witnesses

to that. But to believe that I, little as I am, once killed a giant of

a Sioux, you will need witnesses.’ And then he plucked two witnesses

out of the circle. ‘You and you were present;’ and then he told the

story just as it had occurred. Another with a long rattlesnake’s skin

round his head, and leaning on his lance, told his story objectively,

just as a picture would be described:

“‘Once we Ojibbeways set out against the Sioux. We were one hundred.

One of ours, a courageous man, a man of the right stamp, impatient

for distinction, separated from the others, and crept onward into the

enemy’s country. The man discovered a party of the foe, two men, two

women, and three children. He crept round them like a wolf, he crawled

up to them like a snake, he fell upon them like lightning, cut down the

two men and scalped them. The screaming women and children he seized by

the arm and threw them as prisoners to his friends who had hastened up

at his war yell; and this lightning, this snake, this wolf, this man,

my friends, that was I. I have spoken.’

[Illustration: North American Weapons.]

“In most of the stories told us, however, I could trace very little

that was heroic. Many of them, in fact, appeared a description of the

way in which a cunning wolf attacked and murdered a lamb.

“One of the fellows, with one eye painted white, the other coal-black,

was not ashamed to tell loudly, and with a beaming face, how he once

fell upon a poor solitary Sioux girl and scalped her. He gave us the

minutest details of this atrocity, and yet at the end of his harangue,

he was applauded, or at least behowled, like the other orators. All

the Indians stamped and uttered their war yell as a sign of applause,

by holding their hands to their mouths trumpet fashion. At the moment

the man appeared to me little less ferocious than a tiger, and yet when

I formed his acquaintance at a latter date, he talked most reasonably

and calmly like an honest farmer’s lad. Such are what are called the

contradictions in human nature.

“Very remarkable in all these harangues, was the unconcealed and vain

self-laudation each employed about himself. Every speaker considered

his deed the best and most useful for the whole nation. Each began by

saying that what his predecessors had told them was very fine, but a

trifle when compared with what he had to say about himself. It was his

intention to astonish them once for all. His totem was the first in

the whole land, and the greatest deeds had always been achieved by the

spotted weasels (or as the case may be) and so he, the younger weasel,

not wishing to be the inferior to his forefathers, had gone forth and

performed deeds the description of which would make their hair stand on

end,” etc.

Among other tribes of North-American warriors, the braves were armed

with small tomahawks, or iron hatchets, which they carried with the

powder-horn in the belt on the right side, while the long tobacco

pouch of antelope skin hung by the left side. Over their shoulders

were leather targets, bows and arrows, and some few had rifles--both

weapons were defended from damp in deer-skin cases--and quivers with

the inevitable bead-work, and the fringes which every savage seems to

love.

Speaking of an army of Indian warriors “shifting camp,” Burton says,

in his curious book “The City of the Saints”:--“Their nags were

lean and ungroomed; they treat them as cruelly as do the Somal; yet

nothing short of whiskey can persuade the Indian warrior to part with

a favourite steed. It is his all in all,--his means of livelihood,

his profession, his pride. He is an excellent judge of horse-flesh,

though ignoring the mule and ass; and if he offers an animal for which

he has once refused to trade, it is for the reason that an Oriental

takes to market an adult slave--it has become useless. Like the Arab,

he considers it dishonourable to sell a horse: he gives it to you,

expecting a large present, and if disappointed he goes away grumbling

that you have swallowed his property.

“Behind the warriors and braves followed the baggage of the village.

The lodge-poles in bundles of four or five had been lashed to pads or

packsaddles girthed tight to the ponies’ backs, the other ends being

allowed to trail along the ground like the shafts of a truck. The sign

easily denotes the course of travel. The wolf-like dogs were also

harnessed in the same way; more lupine than canine, they are ready

when hungry to attack man or mule; and sharp-nosed and prick-eared,

they not a little resemble the Indian pariah dog. Their equipments,

however, were of course on a diminutive scale. A little pad girthed

round the barrel with a breastplate to keep it in place, enabled them

to drag two short light lodge-poles tied together at the smaller

extremity. One carried only a hawk on its back; yet falconry has

never, I believe, been practised by the Indian. Behind the ponies

the poles were connected by cross sticks upon which were lashed the

lodge-covers, the buffalo robes, and other bulkier articles. Some had

strong frames of withes or willow basket-work, two branches being bent

into an oval, garnished below with a network of hide-thongs for a seat,

covered with a light wicker canopy, and opening like a cage only on

one side; a blanket or a buffalo robe defends the inmate from sun and

rain. These are the litters for the squaws when weary, the children

and the puppies, which are part of the family till used for beasts.

It might be supposed to be a rough conveyance; the elasticity of the

poles, however, alleviates much of that inconvenience. A very ancient

man, wrinkled as a last year’s walnut, and apparently crippled by old

wounds, was carried probably by his great-grandsons in a rude sedan.

The vehicle was composed of two pliable poles, about ten feet long,

separated by three cross-bars twenty inches or so apart. In this way

the Indians often bear the wounded back to their villages. Apparently

they have never thought of a horse litter, which might be made with

equal facility, and would certainly save work.

“Whilst the rich squaws rode, the poor followed their pack-horses on

foot, eyeing the more fortunate as the mercer’s wife regards what she

terms the carriage lady. The women’s dress not a little resembles

their lords’--the unaccustomed eye often hesitates between the sexes.

In the fair, however, the waistcoat is absent, the wide-sleeved skirt

extends below the knees, and the leggings are of somewhat different

cut; all wore coarse shawls, or white, blue, or scarlet cloth-blankets

around their bodies. Upon the upper platte, we afterwards saw them

dressed in cotton gowns after a semi-civilized fashion, and with bowie

knives by their sides. The grandmothers were fearful to look upon;

horrid excrescences of nature, teaching proud man a lesson of humility.

The middle aged matrons were homely bodies, broad and squat like the

African dame after she has become _mère de famille_; their hands

and feet are notably larger from work than those of the men, and the

burdens upon their back caused them to stoop painfully. The young

squaws--pity it is that all our household Indian words, papoose for

instance, tomahawk, wigwam, and powwow, should have been naturalised

out of the Abenaki and other harsh dialects of New England--deserved a

more euphonious appellation. The belle savage of the party had large

and languishing eyes and teeth that glittered, with sleek long black

hair like the ears of a Blenheim spaniel, justifying a natural instinct

to stroke or pat it, drawn straight over a low broad quadroon-like

brow. Her figure had none of the fragility which distinguishes the

higher race, who are apparently too delicate for human nature’s daily

food. Her ears and neck were laden with tinsel ornaments, brass wire

rings adorned her wrists and fine arms, a bead-work sack encircled her

waist, and scarlet leggings fringed and tasselled, ended in equally

costly mocassins. When addressed by the driver in some terms to me

unintelligible, she replied with a soft clear laugh--the principal

charm of the Indian, as of the smooth-throated African woman--at the

same time showing him the palm of her right hand as though it had been

a looking-glass. The gesture I afterwards learned simply conveys a

refusal. The maidens of the tribe, or those under six, were charming

little creatures with the wildest and most piquant expression, and the

prettiest doll-like features imaginable; the young coquettes already

conferred their smiles as if they had been of any earthly value. The

boys had black beady eyes like snakes, and the wide mouths of young

caymans. Their only dress when they were not in birthday suit was the

Indian laguti. None of the braves carried scalps, finger-bones, or

notches on the lance, which serve like certain marks on saw-handled

pistols further east, nor had any man lost a limb. They followed us for

many a mile, peering into the hinder part of our travelling wigwam, and

ejaculating “How, How,” the normal salutation.”

Here is an instance at once of Indian warrior heroism on the one side

and fiendish ferocity on the other that occurred at the late engagement

between a small war party of the Chippewas and a greatly superior

party of Sioux, near Cedar Island Lake. The Chippewas, who were

_en route_ for a scalping foray upon the Sioux villages on the

Minnesota, here fell into an ambuscade, and the first notice of danger

which saluted their ears was a discharge of fire-arms from a thicket.

Four of their number fell dead in their tracks. Another, named the War

Cloud, a leading brave, had a leg broken by a bullet. His comrades were

loth to leave him, and, whilst their assailants were reloading their

guns, attempted to carry him along with them to where they could gain

the shelter of a thicket a short distance to the rear. But he commanded

them to leave him, telling them that he would show his enemies how a

Chippewa could die.

[Illustration: Chippewa.]

At his request they seated him on a log, with his back leaning

against a tree. He then commenced painting his face and singing his

death-song. As his enemies approached he only sang a louder and a

livelier strain; and when several had gathered around him, flourishing

their scalping-knives, and screeching forth their demoniac yells of

exultation, not a look or gesture manifested that he was even aware of

their presence. At lengthy they seized him and tore his scalp from his

head. Still seated with his back against a large tree, they commenced

shooting their arrows into the trunk around his head, grazing his

ears, neck, etc., until they literally pinned him fast, without having

once touched a vital part. Yet our hero remained the same imperturable

stoic, continuing to chant his defiant strain, and although one of

the number flourished his reeking scalp before his eyes, still not a

single expression of his countenance could be observed to change. At

last one of the number approached him with a tomahawk, which, after a

few unheeded flourishes, he buried in the captive’s skull, who sank in

death, with the war song still upon his lips. He had, indeed, succeeded

well in teaching his enemies “how a Chippewa could die.”

The reader has already made the acquaintance of that renowned Mandan

chief Mahtotopa; here is another episode in that hero’s history:

A party of 150 Scheyenne warriors had invaded the territory of the

Mandans; Mahtotopa, the young but already famous warrior of whom we

have spoken, went in pursuit of them at the head of fifty of the

bravest of his tribe. At the end of two days he came up with them. The

Mandans, inferior in number, hesitated to engage in combat, when by a

sudden impulse, Mahtotopa planted his lance, ornamented with a piece

of red stuff, in the ground in token of defiance. The Scheyennes who

were approaching to attack the party were arrested by the sight of

this courageous act, and their chief advancing alone to meet the young

Mandan warrior enquired who he was who defied alone the enemy?

“It is Mahtotopa, second chief in command of the brave and valiant

Mandans.”

“I have often heard him spoken of,” replied the Scheyenne; “he is a

great warrior. Would he dare to advance and fight against me alone

while our warriors look on?”

“Is it a chief who speaks to Mahtotopa?”

“See the scalp which hangs from the bit of my horse,” answered the

Scheyenne; “see my lance ornamented with the fur of the ermine and the

feather of the eagle of war.”

“You have spoken enough,” said the Mandan.

The Scheyenne chief set off at full gallop and planted his lance by the

side of that of Mahtotopa. The warriors of the two tribes drew near and

formed a great circle. The two champions advanced into the middle of

these lists formed by human warriors. They were on horseback, decorated

with feathers and wearing their finest garments. They each fired a shot

without effect; Mahtotopa then showed his adversary his powder-flask,

which had been pierced by a ball, and threw it on the ground as well as

his gun, which had thus become useless. The Scheyenne chief in order to

fight with equal arms did the same, and for some moments they galloped

one round the other discharging arrows with incredible rapidity. The

horse of the Mandan rolled on the ground pierced by an arrow, and

when Mahtotopa arose to continue the fight his adversary sprang from

his horse and once more the combat became equal. Soon the warriors

were exhausted. Then the Scheyenne drew his knife and brandished it

in the air. “Yes,” answered Mahtotopa, who understood this unspoken

invitation. The two warriors disencumbered themselves of their quivers

and shields; but the Mandan had not his knife; he had forgotten it in

his cabin; this did not stop him; he parried the blows of his adversary

with the wood of his bow, which he wielded like a club. He soon

succeeded in forcing his enemy to relax his hold on his weapon; the

knife fell, the combatants threw themselves on each other and tried to

get possession of the weapon which lay at their feet; it was taken and

wrenched back again several times by both adversaries, and each time it

was dyed with the blood of one or the other. At length Mahtotopa seized

it a last time and plunged it to the hilt in the heart of the Scheyenne

chief, then drew it out, took off his adversary’s scalp and showed the

trophy of his victory to the spectators. Such a scalp as this would be

more precious in the eyes of Mahtotopa than any dozen of such bloody

trophies he might previously have possessed. Few Indian warriors of

the “old school” but who could point in the same fashion to one poor

scrap of skin and hair with special exultation, while with pomp and

pride they describe to the curious listener the peculiar circumstances

under which the trophy was obtained. Take the following little anecdote

related by a somewhat celebrated Ojibbeway “brave” as an example:

“This scalp I nailed separately because I took it under curious

circumstances and like to recall it to my memory. I went on the war

trail just ten years ago against the Sioux band of the chief Wabasha.

There were eighty of us Ojibbeways, and we went down the Chippeway

River in canoes. When we found ourselves close to the enemy we turned

into an arm of water which we thought was the main channel; but it was

only a bayou which lost itself in swamp and rushes, and on attempting

to push through all our canoes stuck in the mud. The Sioux fleet was

coming up to cut us off in our hole, and we left our canoes and went on

foot. The Sioux fired on us from the water and we replied from land;

but the distance was too great, and no one was wounded. One of the

boldest and bravest of the Sioux, however, pushed on far in advance in

order to cut us off. He came too near the bank and was shot by one of

our men and he fell back in his canoe which began drifting down the

stream. His body hung over the side of the boat into the water. I saw

this, and feeling desirous to have his scalp I leaped into the water

and swam after the canoe. There was plenty of risk, for the other Sioux

were now paddling up; besides, it was not at all certain the man was

really dead. I did not care though, but swam on, seized the canoe and

the man, and had his scalp with a couple of cuts. Ha, ha! I waved it

once to the Sioux, pushed the canoe with the half-dead quivering fellow

towards them, and soon joined my party again. We all escaped, and only

our enemies had cause to lament. He was their best warrior, and so I

nailed his scalp, the only one taken that time, here on my hatchet

which I carry about with me.”

The following tradition of a war exploit of the same tribe, recorded by

the Rev. P. Jones, will show the confidence they place in dreams:

“A canoe manned with warriors was once pursued by a number of others,

all filled with their enemies. They endeavoured to escape, paddling

with all their might, but the enemy still gained upon them; then the

old warriors began to call for the assistance of those things they had

dreamt of during their fast-days. One man’s munedoo was a sturgeon,

which being invoked, their speed was soon equal to that of this fish,

leaving the enemy far behind; but the sturgeon being short-winded was

soon tired, and the enemy again advanced rapidly upon them. The rest of

the warriors, with the exception of one young man who, from his mean

and ragged appearance, was considered a fool, called the assistance

of their gods, which for a time enabled them to keep in advance. At

length, having exhausted the strength of all their munedoos, they were

beginning to give themselves up for lost, the other canoes being now

so near as to turn to head them, when just at this critical moment the

foolish young man thought of his medicine-bag, which in their flight

he had taken off from his side and laid in the canoe. He called out,

‘Where is my medicine-bag?’ The warriors told him to be quiet; what did

he want with his medicine-bag at this perilous time? He still shouted,

‘Where is my medicine-bag?’ They again told him to paddle and not

trouble them about his medicine-bag. As he persisted in his cry, ‘Where

is my medicine-bag?’ one of the warriors seeing it by his side took it

up and threw it to him. He, putting his hand into it, pulled out an

old pouch made of the skin of a _saw-bill_, a species of duck.

This he held by the neck to the water. Immediately the canoe began to

glide swiftly at the usual speed of a _saw-bill_; and after being

propelled for a short time by this wonderful power, they looked back

and found they were far beyond the reach of the enemy, who had now

given up the chase. Surely this Indian deserved a _patent_ for his

wonderful propelling power, which would have superseded the use of the

jarring and thumping steam-boats, now the wonder and admiration of the

American Indian. The young man then took up his pouch, wrung the water

out of it, and replaced it in his bag; telling the Indians that he had

not worn his medicine-bag about his person for nothing,--that in his

fast he had dreamt of this fowl, and was told that in all dangers it

would deliver him, and that he should possess the speed and untiring

nature of the _saw-bill_ duck. The old warriors were astonished

at the power of the young man whom they had looked upon as almost an

idiot, and were taught by him a lesson, never to form a mean opinion of

any persons from their outward appearance.”

The canoe of the Indian has been several times mentioned in these

pages, and as it plays a very important part in the career of the

savage in question, in times of peace as well as of war, it may not

be amiss here to furnish some particulars as to its construction.

Of its antiquity there is very little doubt; for being of a simple

construction, and the materials for it at hand, we suppose that it

would occur to the simplest savage, that if it was necessary to go some

distance on the water, he must have something to float upon, and that

wood or the lightest part of it--bark--was just the thing that was

required. So that if it can exactly be computed how long it is since

the North American Indian first took up his abode in those vast regions

which he so long possessed undisturbed, and deduct a few years for him

to look about his new home, we shall have the exact age of the canoe;

at any rate, the discoverers of America found the canoe along with the

Indians, and the natives called them _canoas_, which were hollowed

out of trees. The way that the tribes belonging to the Algongian stock,

who are essentially fishermen and sailors, build their canoes is as

follows:--

The birch is the tree selected for the purpose, and the bark is that

part of it of which the skeleton of the canoe is built. The Indians

select the largest and smoothest trees; so that they can obtain large

pieces of bark and prevent too much sewing. The inner side of the

bark is scraped with knives, and it is then given over to the women

to sew. The men then get ready the framework of the boat, which is of

cedar. “They have usually a sort of model, or a frame of the figure

and size of a canoe, round which the branches or ribs are bent. In

the centre the arches are large, growing smaller towards either end.

These ribs are peeled wonderfully thin, because lightness and easy

carriage are the chief qualities of a canoe. Between the upper end of

the ribs or _rarangues_, as they are called, a thin cross-piece

is fastened, to keep them in a horizontal position. This is for the

purpose of giving strength to the sides.” These boats have no keel, but

the _rarangues_, and _lanes_, or cross-pieces, are tied to a

piece of wood at the top.

The Indians use neither nails nor screws in the manufacture of the

canoe; everything about it is either tied or sewn together. This,

however, does not seem to deteriorate its strength or utility. When

the framework is completed, the bark covering, previously alluded to,

and which is made by the women, is spread over it, and the edge turned

down over the “maître” and firmly bound to it. The interior of the

canoe is then lined with thin boards, laid across the ribs, which they

call _les lisses_. These protect the bottom from the feet of the

passenger, and injury from the sails. They are remarkably thin and

light, and not much stouter than the sides of a cigar-box. Of course

the canoes are not suited for the nailed boots of a European or the

transport of ironshod boxes, but only for the soft mocassined feet of

the Indians, and the still softer bundles of fur.

“All the wood-work in the canoe is derived from the cédre blanche,

for this wood is very elastic, does not split, has but light specific

gravity, and is easily cut with a knife. The material for the cords

and strings is also obtained from the same tree, though they also use

the bark taken from the root of the _epinetee blanche_, a species

of spruce. All this is prepared by the women, who are always busy in

twisting ‘watals,’ owing to the large quantities used. They can make

either twine or stout cords out of it, and for their fishing nets, the

ropes often reach a length of fifty yards. These cords last a long

time, and resist the influence of water, and they can be laid up for

two years without deteriorating. If damped, they become as supple as

leather.

“The canoe is sharp, front and back, and the ends stand up a little:

these ends are often gaily decorated in the large canoes. A small piece

of wood is inserted in either end to give it increased strength. This,

too, is often carved and painted into the shape of a queer-looking

manikin.

“After the canoe is completed, the material is left to dry. For this

purpose pieces of wood are inserted in every part to keep it well

extended, and it is then hung up in the air. Botching all the little

holes, seams, and stitches is the final process. For this purpose the

resin of the pine or fir is used, and is laid on in thick patches

wherever a hole would allow the water entrance. The weak parts of the

bark or the holes of branches are also covered with this resin.”

In the canoe building, as, indeed, in all labours, a great part of the

work falls to the women. They do all the sewing and tying, and often

are compelled to take part in the hammering and botching. When the

little craft is afloat, the squaws assist in the paddling; and very

often are more skilful in this respect than the men. Usually, however,

when a family is moving about, the man and wife paddle side by side.

In the primitive mode of sailing, one sits at the stern and one at the

bow, both paddling with short broad paddles. The one in the bow looks

out for shallow rocks and rapids, which might prove dangerous; he then

signals to the one in the stern, to whose care the propelling of the

boat is principally entrusted, who directs the boat accordingly. The

lightness of the canoe, and the extraordinary skill of the Indians

in guiding it, enables it to skim over the surface of the water with

marvellous rapidity. The most surprising part of the business is the

great load these canoes can carry. Mr. Kohl makes mention of one he

saw, which contained a family of twenty persons, with their goods and

chattels! They had come some hundred and fifty miles in their little

boat,--over cataracts and rapids; besides they had a quantity of deer

and bear skins with them, and several live dogs. The whole weight must

have exceeded a ton!

Throughout the whole of Polynesia, as in savage North America, the

native, wherever you find him, regards war as the first business of his

life, as the only means of earning fame and riches. Without doubt this

yearning for perpetual strife has now somewhat subsided, but within the

memory of the still young, the said yearning was at its highest. Samoa

furnishes an apt instance; and even within the last few years, when Mr.

Turner was there located as missionary, he found that the murder of a

chief, a disputed title, or a desire on the part of one, two, or more

of the districts to be considered stronger and of more importance than

the rest, were frequent causes of war. Hostilities were often prevented

by such acts as giving up the culprit, paying a heavy fine, or bowing

down in abject submission, not with ropes round their necks, but

carrying firewood and small stones used in baking a pig, or perhaps a

few bamboos. The firewood, stones, and leaves were equivalent to their

saying, “Here we are your pigs to be cooked if you please; and here are

the materials with which to do it.” Taking bamboos in the hand was as

if they said, “We have come, and here are the knives to cut us up.” A

piece of split bamboo was of old the usual knife in Samoa.

If, however, the chiefs of the district were determined to resist, they

prepared accordingly. The boundary which separated one district from

another was the usual battle field, hence the villages next to that

spot on either side were occupied at once by the troops. The women and

children, the sick and the aged, were cleared off to some fortified

place in the bush, or removed to some other district which was either

neutral or could be depended upon as an ally. Moveable property was

either buried or taken off with the women and children. The wives

of the chiefs and principal men, generally followed their husbands

wherever they might be encamped, to be ready to nurse them if sick

or wounded. A heroine would even follow close upon the heels of her

husband in actual conflict, carrying his club or some other part of his

armour; it was common for chiefs to take with them a present of fine

mats when they went to another district to solicit help in war, but

there was no standing army or regularly paid soldiers anywhere.

[Illustration: Polynesian Weapons.]

When the chiefs decided on war, every man and boy under their

jurisdiction old enough to handle a club, had to take his place as a

soldier, or risk the loss of his lands and property and banishment from

the place. In each district there was a certain village or cluster of

villages known as the advance troops. It was their province to take

the lead and in battle their loss was double the number of that of any

other village. Still they boasted of their right to lead, and would

on no account give it up to others, and talked in the current strain

of other parts of the world, about the glory of dying in battle. In a

time of peace the people of these villages had special marks of respect

shown to them, such as the largest share of food at public feasts,

flattery, etc. While war was going on the chiefs and heads of families

united in some central spot, and whatever they decided on, either for

attack or defence, the young men endeavoured implicitly to carry out.

Their weapons were of old, clubs, spears, and slings; subsequently,

as iron was introduced, they got hatchets, and with these they made

their most deadly weapon, viz., a sharp tomahawk with a handle the

length of a walking stick. After that again, they had the civilized

additions of swords, pistols, guns, and bayonets. Around the village

where the war party assembled, they threw a rough stockade, formed by

any kind of sticks or trees cut into eight feet lengths and put close

to each other upright, with their ends buried two feet in the ground.

The hostile parties might be each fortified in this way, not more

than a mile from each other, and now and then venture out to fight in

the intervening space, or to take each other by surprise at weak or

unguarded points. In their war canoes they had some distinguishing

badge of their district hoisted on a pole, a bird it might be, or a

dog, or a bunch of leaves. And for the bush-ranging land forces, they

had certain marks on the body by which they knew their own party, and

which served as a temporary watchword. One day the distinguishing mark

might be blackened cheeks, the next two strokes on the breast, the

next a white shell suspended from a stripe of white cloth round the

neck, and so on; before any formal fight they had a day of feasting,

reviewing, and merriment. In action they never stood in orderly ranks

to shoot at each other. According to their notions that would be the

height of folly. Their favourite tactics were rather of the surprise

and bush skirmishing order. Prisoners, if men, were generally killed;

if women, distributed among the conquerors. In the battle which was

fought in 1830, to avenge the death of Tamafainga, a fire was kindled,

and prisoners to the extent of four hundred, some say, were burned, but

probably it did not reach the half of that number.

Their heroes were the swift of foot, like Achilles or Asahel; men who

could dash forward towards a crowd, hurl a spear with deadly precision;

and stand for a while, tilting off with his club other spears as they

approached him within an inch of running him through. They were

ambitious also to signalize themselves by the number of heads they

could lay before the chief. No hero at the Grecian games rejoiced more

over his chaplet than did the Samoan glory in the distinction of having

cut off a man’s head. As he went along with it through the villages

on the way to the place where the chiefs were assembled, waiting the

hourly news of the battle, he danced and capered and shouted, calling

out every now and then the name of the village, and adding, “I am

so and so, I have got the head of such a one.” When he reached the

spot where the chiefs were met, he went through a few more evolutions

and then laid down the head before them. This, together with the

formal thanks of the chiefs before the multitude for his bravery and

successful fighting, was the very height of a young man’s ambition.

He made some giddy frolicsome turns on his heels and was off again to

try and get another victim. These heads were piled up in a heap in the

mapae or public assembly. The head of the most important chief was put

on the top, and as the tale of the battle was told they would say,

“There were so many heads surmounted by the head of so-and-so,” giving

the number and the name. After remaining for some hours piled up they

were either claimed by their relatives or buried on the spot.

A rare illustration of this ambition to get heads occurred about ten

years ago. In an unexpected attack upon a village one morning, a young

man fell stunned by a blow. Presently he recovered consciousness, felt

the weight of some one sitting on his shoulders and covering his neck,

and the first sounds he heard was a dispute going on between two as to

which of them had the right to cut off his head. He made a desperate

effort, jostled the fellow off his back, sprang to his feet, and with

his head all safe in his own possession, soon settled the matter by

leaving them both far behind him.

The headless bodies of the slain scattered about in the bush after

a battle, if known, were buried, if unknown left to the dogs. In

some cases the whole body was pulled along in savage triumph, and

laid before the chiefs. One day when Mr. Turner was in a war-fort,

endeavouring to mediate for peace, a dead body of one of the enemy was

dragged in, preceded by a fellow making all sorts of fiendish gestures,

with one of the legs in his teeth, cut off by the knee.

If the war became general, and involved several districts, they

formed themselves into a threefold division of highway, bush, and sea

fighters. The fleet might consist of three hundred men in thirty or

forty canoes. The bushrangers and the fleet were principally dreaded,

as there was no calculating where they were or when they might pounce

unawares upon some unguarded settlement. The fleet met apart from the

land forces and concocted their own schemes. They would have it all

arranged, for instance, and a dead secret, to be off after dark to

attack a particular village belonging to the enemy. At midnight they

land at an uninhabited place some miles from the settlement they intend

to attack. They take a circuitous course in the bush, surround the

village from behind, having previously arranged to let the canoes slip

on quietly and take up their position in the water in front of the

village. By break of day they rush into the houses of the unsuspecting

people before they have well waked up, chop off as many heads as they

can, rush with them to their canoes, and decamp before the young men

of the place have had time to muster or arm. Often they are scared by

the people who during the war keep a watch night and day at all the

principal openings in the reef; but now and then the plot succeeds

and there is fearful slaughter. In one of these early morning attacks

from the fleet the heads of thirteen were carried off. One of them was

that of a poor old man who was on his knees at his morning devotions,

when off went his head at a blow. In another house that same morning

there was a noble instance of maternal heroism in a woman who allowed

herself to be hacked from head to foot bending over her son to save his

life. It is considered cowardly to kill a woman, or they would have

dispatched her at once. It was the head of her little boy they wanted,

but they did not get it. The poor woman was in a dreadful state, but,

to the surprise of all, recovered.

To the king of Samoa was reserved the power of sparing life. When

led to the king’s presence the captive warriors usually prostrated

themselves before him, and exclaimed: _make paha e ora paha-i runa

te ars? i raro te aro_. “To die, perhaps to live, perhaps upward

the face!” If the king did not speak, or said “The face down,” it was

sentence of death, and some one in attendance either despatched the

poor captive in his presence or led him away to be slaughtered. But if

the king said, “Upward the face,” they were spared only to be slaves or

to be sacrificed when the priests should require human victims.

When the king, or any chief of high rank, was known to be humane, or

any of the vanquished had formerly been on terms of friendship with

him, avoiding carefully the warriors, an individual risking his life

on the conqueror’s clemency would lie in wait for him in his walks,

and prostrating himself in the path, supplicate his compassion, or

rush into his house and throw himself on the ground before him. Though

anyone might have killed him while on his way thither, none dared touch

him within the king’s enclosure without his orders. When the king did

not speak, or directed the fugitive to be carried from his presence,

which was very unusual, he was taken out and slain. Generally the

prince spoke to the individual who had thus thrown himself into his

power; and if he did but speak, or only recognise him, he was secure.

He might either join the retinue of the sovereign, or return to his

own house. No one would molest him, as he was under _maru_ shade

or the screening protection of the king. These individuals, influenced

by feelings of gratitude, generally attached themselves to the person

or interest of the prince by whom they had been saved, and frequently

proved through subsequent life the most faithful attendants on his

person and steady adherents to his cause.

The gentleman just mentioned furnishes us with an account of the

massacre of the teachers which some few years since took place at the

Isle of Pines. There were three of them. They were blamed for causing

sickness. Mantungu, the chief, ordered them away, and as Captain

Ebrill, of the brig “Star,” was there at the time and offered to take

them to Samoa, they left in his vessel. Captain Ebrill first went to

Sydney, came back, was on his way to Samoa with the teachers, but

touched at the Isle of Pines to procure some more sandal-wood. He

anchored at Uao, some little distance from the residence of the chief.

The natives went off to the vessel. “Where are Mantungu and his sons?”

said a person on board. “Dead,” replied the natives in a joke. “Dead,

dead; that is good,” said the same person; “let such chiefs be dead,

and let the common folk live, and help us cut sandal-wood.” For some

reason which we cannot ascertain, Captain Ebrill and his crew were

angry with the old chief, and as a further proof of it, when he sent a

present of food to the teachers, who he heard were in the vessel, it

was not allowed to be received on board. Those who took it had pieces

of wood thrown at them and two musket shots fired at them. None were

killed, but one man was wounded in the knee. “What can this mean,” said

Mantungu, “wishing me and my sons dead in our own land? and why commit

such outrages upon my people who went with a present?” Whether he had

any intentions previously to take the vessel we know not; but any one

who knows the old despot can imagine how such treatment would make his

savage heart flame with revenge. Next morning thirty select men were

off, determined to kill all on board. They took some sandal-wood with

them to sell; and as a further trick did not arm themselves with clubs

or axes, but with the adzes which they use in dressing off the bark and

sap from the wood. They reached the vessel. The sandal-wood pleased all

on board, was immediately bought, and the natives were allowed to go up

on deck to grind their adzes on pretence that they were going off for

more wood. One of the crew was turning the handle of the grindstone, a

native grinding an adze, and the captain close by. Seizing a favourable

moment the native swung his adze and hit the captain in the face

between the eyes,--this was instant death to Captain Ebrill, and the

signal for attack all over the vessel. In a few minutes seventeen of

the crew were killed--viz., ten white men, including the captain, two

Marquesans, two Mangarans, one Aitutakian, one New Zealander, and a

Karotongan teacher. The cook fought desperately for awhile with an

axe and killed one man, but was at length overpowered and fell. This

occurred on the afternoon of the 1st of November, 1842. A young man

named Henry, two Samoan teachers, and a native of the New Hebrides made

their escape below. Henry loaded muskets and fired up the companion,

but without effect. It only exasperated the natives on deck, who threw

down upon them billets of sandal-wood. The teachers then collected

their property, six red shirts, eight axes, etc., called up and offered

all for their lives, but there was no mercy. Night came on. The natives

divided; a party went on shore in the boat, and the rest remained on

deck to guard those below. In the morning the natives called down to

Henry and the Samoans to come up, take the vessel further in, and then

go on shore, as Mantungu had come and declared they were to live. The

poor fellows felt they were entirely in the hands of the natives, came

up, ran close in shore, and again dropped anchor. They were then taken

to the shore. A son of Mantungu, with a tomahawk in his right hand,

met Henry as he stepped out of the boat, held out his left hand with a

feigned grin of friendship to shake hands; but the moment he got hold

of Henry’s right hand, the villain up with his axe and laid the poor

fellow dead at his feet. Others were up and at the remaining three.

Lengolo, the New Hebrides native, and the Samoan Taniela, were killed

at once. Mantangu and a party of natives were sitting under the shade

of the cocoa-nuts looking on. Lasalo, the other Samoan teacher, escaped

streaming with blood, threw himself at the feet of the old chief and

begged for life. Mantungu was silent for a minute or two, but soon gave

the wink to a Lifu man. Lasalo was now dragged away to be killed, but

he sprang from the fellow as he lifted his axe and darted off to sea.

The savages were at his heels, he was hit repeatedly, but escaped to

the deep water, struck out and swam off to a little island. Four men

jumped into a canoe and after him; he climbed a pine tree and talked

for awhile with them; they assured him Mantungu had determined to spare

him, and at last he came down. It was treachery again. They sprang upon

him like tigers; but again he extricated himself, and rushed to the

canoe; there, however, at length the poor fellow was overpowered and

fell.

After the massacre the bodies were divided. There were people there

from Caledonia, Mare, and Lifu, and each had a share. Then followed the

plundering of the vessel; deck, cabins, and forecastle were stripped of

everything. They cut down the masts to get at the sails and rigging,

and then set fire to her without opening the hold. As the fire reached

the powder there was a terrific explosion, but no lives lost. She

burned to the water’s edge and then sank.

Another curious story is related of these people in connexion with

their warlike disposition. On one occasion they captured a European

ship called the “Sisters,” and having massacred the crew, proceeded to

rifle the vessel of everything portable. Some kegs of gunpowder came

under this category, and being unacquainted with its nature, after

conveying it ashore, they amused themselves by sprinkling pinches of it

in the fire to “make sparks.” The result may be easily imagined; the

whole bulk of powder became ignited and scattered the amazed savages

right and left; many were maimed and a few killed, and among the latter

was a chief of some renown. The calamity was of course attributed to

the evil spirits of the murdered crew of the “Sisters,” and the Samoans

vowed to take dire revenge on the first batch of white men who fell

into their clutches. They had not long to wait. A large boat with seven

men in her put in not long after near the same place. This was a party

of runaway convicts from Norfolk Island. Five of them were killed and

the boat broken to pieces. The other two had gone off to forage in the

bush, and happily met with old Jeni (the chief) and his sons, who were

travelling there that very day about some war affairs. The murderers

of the five who were in search of the other two found them with Jeni

and his sons and proposed to kill them. Jeni refused and took them home

with him. They lived for two months under the wing of the old chief and

our teachers, and were kindly treated. But the fellows were out-and-out

Norfolk Islanders. One night they got up and robbed old Jeni of four

muskets, ten hatchets, four felling axes, and a saw. They went to the

teachers’ house, took four shirts, two knives, and an axe, and off they

set in the teachers’ canoe to join some white men reported to be at

Lifu. At daylight the things were missed and the place in an uproar.

Suspicion fell on the teachers. Their canoe is away--they must have

helped the fellow to lift it into the water. “No,” said Tataio, “how

can that be? We are robbed too, and our canoe gone to boot. But I’ll

tell you they cannot be far away, let us be off after them: I go for

one, who will join me?” A party was made up in a twinkling, and off

they went, hard drive at their paddles, out to sea in the direction of

Lifu. Soon they sighted something rising now and then on the top of

the waves. Two men in it--just the fellows. A little further and they

were in sight of each other. The thieves loaded their muskets and fired

two or three shots. No one was hurt. Their pursuers paddle steadily on

and are determined to be at them. Then they threw the stolen property

into the sea towards them, but who could pick up sinking axes? All

were lost. The two scoundrels knew what they deserved, thought it was

a choice of deaths, and jumped into the sea to drown themselves. “Poor

fellows,” said Tataio, “they think we are going to kill them. Let us

save them if we can.” He got his hand into the mouth of one of them

when he had but almost sunk, and pulled him up. The other was also

secured and laid flat in the bottom of the canoe half dead. The sea was

running high, the outrigger broke, and all had to jump out except the

two vagabonds who were lying senseless in the bottom of the canoe. But

it was hard work to swim and drag the disabled canoe through a heavy

sea. “What are we doing?” said the natives to each other. “By and by

we shall be all dead. Why should we be drowned in trying to save these

fellows? It is their own doing. Let us tilt the canoe over, pitch

them out and save ourselves.” “No,” said Tataio; “see the current is

drifting us fast to that little island. Let us try it a little longer.”

They reached the little island, landed, and rested, and scolded the

two scoundrels as they recovered and were able to listen to what was

going on. Some natives of the island, when they heard the tale, would

have them killed, but the votes with Tataio carried it for their lives.

“Well then spare their lives, but we must punish them.” They stripped

them naked, besmeared them from head to foot with a mixture of mud

and ashes, and then said, “Now you must go about so.” Native like,

however, they repented next day, washed the fellows clean, and gave

them back their clothes. After resting a day or two the party returned

to Mare.

The Mare people were delighted to see the party return, but when they

heard the story, and knew that all the property was thrown away, they

could hardly keep their clubs off the vagabonds. But old Jeni united

with the teachers and forbade. “What good,” said he, “will it do to

kill them? It won’t bring back my property.” Here again they were

allowed to live, and were fed too by the people, as if nothing had

happened, until they had an opportunity of leaving in a vessel which

touched at the place some time after.

Justice demands some few words of explanation concerning the reputed

“wanton massacres” by the natives of these islands. Without doubt they

set but little value on human life, and are treacherous in the extreme;

naturally, they are suspicious and likely to regard the actions of men

so totally different in manner and habit from themselves, as are white

men, with constant uneasiness; added to this, it is an ascertained fact

that in numerous instances European and American ships trading to this

part of the world have not scrupled to cheat and ill-use the ignorant

savages with whom they had to deal, and though the aggressors have

succeeded in sailing off with impunity, such behaviour could not fail

to plant seeds of ill-feeling, the crop of which would certainly be

garnered for the next batch of “white cheats” who touched their shores.

The following little story of this South Sea traffic, related by

a traveller named Coulter (who relates it rather as a joke than a

disgrace) will illustrate what the above lines are meant to convey:

“There was some firewood collected on the beach which had yet to be got

off, as we were in actual want of it. The natives were offered some

trifling presents to bring it to the schooner, but acted so slowly that

the captain got out of patience and dispatched his boat with four men

and the interpreter to effect the desired object; he gave them every

caution not to mix with the natives, but work quick and get off the

wood at once, and if there should be any attempt to attack them on the

part of the natives, to run to the water’s edge and the guns of the

schooner would cover them.

“I may here remark, that it is a usual plan with almost all the

islanders in the Pacific, who are treacherously disposed, to obtain

first as much as they can by fair trade, and if the suspicions of the

captain, or any vessel trading with them, should be lulled so as to

throw him off his guard by this apparent honesty and safety, to take

advantage of such a state of things and either cut off a boat’s crew or

attempt to board and plunder the ship, if possible.

“Trainer, the mate, who knew these people well, had no confidence in

any of them; though he seemed to take matters easy enough he was well

prepared for any surprise that might be attempted, and he was doubly

particular in his means of defence, as the interpreter informed him

that the natives were laying plans to board the schooner, thinking as

she was small the capture of her would be an easy matter. Two boat’s

load of the firewood was gone off and the boats sent for the third

and last. The wood was about forty yards from the beach and had to be

carried down by the men to the boat. A number of canoes were rapidly

shoved into the water and filled with men. This was the critical time,

and we all kept ready and an anxious watch on the boat.

“In a few minutes the four men on shore were observed to run with all

their might down to the water’s edge followed by a crowd of armed

natives. They had scarcely time to get into the boat and push her off

from the beach when the natives were close on, throwing a number of

spears at them, one of which took effect on one of the men. However,

the remaining three got her off into deep water. The interpreter, who

could not get into the boat, stole into the water at another point

unperceived by the natives and swam off. They were all taken quickly on

board; but there was no time to hoist the boat up as the canoes filled

with armed men were fast approaching.

“The seaman who was wounded in the boat died in a few minutes after

reaching the deck--the spear had passed right through his chest. The

men, who were all enraged at the loss of an excellent man and an

esteemed messmate, were burning for revenge, and were waiting with

impatient eagerness for the orders to slap at them. Trainer was at

the gangway and his eye on the advancing fleet of canoes; I was with

him. We were well prepared. The short carronades were the most useful

articles on the present occasion and were loaded with grape. The crew

were also armed. ‘Well,’ said the captain, ‘I have been here several

times, and have always treated them fairly and kindly, and now, without

cause, they have killed one of our best men and want to take my vessel

and murder us all. They shall catch it.’ Thus spoke a really humane

man, but he was irritated beyond all patience by the treachery of the

natives and loss of his man. ‘Now, my lads, are you ready?’ ‘Ay, ay,

sir,’ ‘Remember, if we let these savages board us not a man will be

alive in ten minutes.’ ‘Never fear, sir; we’ll pay them.’ On the canoes

came; they separated into two divisions, one advancing to the bows the

other towards the stern.

“Trainer keenly eyed them, whilst he made frequent exclamations, such

as ‘Well, you want the schooner, I suppose,’ etc. The natives in the

canoes were yelling and screaming loudly enough and brandishing their

spears with as threatening an aspect as they could make, seemingly

with the intention of cowing us. They approached within twenty yards,

when the captain ordered the guns at the bow to be pointed fair for

the batch of canoes ahead, while he arranged for those approaching the

stern. ‘Are you ready, men, fore and aft?’ ‘Ay, ay, sir.’ ‘Let go,

then.’ The two carronades discharged their fatal showers of grape, and

before the smoke had rightly cleared away they were loaded and again

fired amongst the savages. ‘Load again, my lads,’ said the captain.

There was scarcely any wind, and the smoke which hung low on the water

was a few minutes in clearing away. The screaming of the wounded people

was appalling; some canoes were sunk or capsized and numbers of natives

were swimming towards the shore. Nevertheless, there were many of them

yet that kept their ground and had the reckless daring to make another

bold push for the vessel’s side. ‘Fire,’ said the captain again, and

another volley of grape flew amongst them. This discharge had not the

great effect of the former ones, as the canoes were closer and the

contents of the guns had not distance enough to scatter. The savages

seemed to comprehend this, and in another moment were clinging to the

schooner’s sides endeavouring to board; but the rapid use of muskets

and pistols ultimately drove them away in an indescribable confusion,

with, I am sorry to say, considerable loss.

“The whole affair was caused by the natural treachery of the natives.

The part we played was unavoidable; in fact, our lives were at stake,

and there was only one unnecessary shot fired after the final retreat

of the natives. The men who had charge of the bow gun loaded it again

unperceived by the captain, and before they could be stopped fired it

after the savages who were making for the shore. This parting shot

was, as they said, to revenge Tom Staples, the seaman who was speared.

There was no one on board the schooner hurt during the affray but the

carpenter, whose arm was broken by the blow of a heavy club wielded by

a huge savage who was endeavouring to board.”

To repeat Mr. Coulter’s words, “The whole affair was caused by the

natural treachery of the natives.” As the gentleman was on the spot he

of course should know all about it. Still one cannot help suspecting

that the captain’s “impatience” had not a little to do with the carnage

which ensued. It would be interesting to be informed what were the

orders of the impatient captain to the boat’s crew sent ashore to hurry

the unwilling natives. Why were they unwilling? Was the firewood piled

on the beach already paid for, or did that “really humane man,” the

American captain, expect the oft-deluded barbarians to trust to his

honour for payment when the cargo was fairly aboard. The first boatful

was allowed to depart--the second--then came the third and last.

“Where’s the price?” “Price be hanged, you precious lot of niggers!

guess the only price you’ll get for this yer freight will be pitched

at you from our big guns. Hands off the boat there, and let us shove

her off!” This of course is a fancy picture; but there is a possibility

that it is not very wide of the mark. If so, the niggers who, after

they had seen their comrades mangled and torn by the murderous grape

“made another bold push for the ship’s side,” showed themselves brave

men, and compels us to reflect with abhorence on the firers of that

“one unnecessary shot.”

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXIII.

Figian “fustian”--Figian battle-field tactics--The

first rending of the root--Fighting implements of the

Figians--Five-bladed swords--Execution of Tahitian

Prisoners--The obdurate Cacahoo--Heroism of Nonfaho’s

widow--Figian ship-building--Surprising skill of savage

boat-builders--Ordinary sea-women--Superstitions of Figian

sailors--The warrior of New Zealand--The sacred wind

of Tu--Distribution of the locks of the slain--Cooking

the warriors’ hearts--Australian weapons--Throwing

the boomerang--The Australian spear--Thick and thin

heads--Remarkable mode of Duelling.

In Figi the disposition to quarrel and fight is no less rife than in

Samoa. A very trifling matter constitutes a _casus belli_, and

their forces are gathered by the _taga_, a kind of review. Of

these there is a series,--one at every place where the army stops on

its way to the scene of action. If any part of Figian warfare has

interest, it is this, and to the parties engaged it is doubtless

glorious. They defy an enemy that is far away, and boast of what they

will do on a day which has not yet come, and all this in the midst

of their friends. The boasting is distinct from, though associated

with, the _taga_, which means “ready” or “on the move,” namely,

for challenging. The challenging is called _bole-bole_, and the

ceremony, when complete, is as follows:--If the head of the party of

allies just arrived is a great chief, his approach is hailed with a

general shout. Taking the lead, he conducts his followers to a large

open space, where the chief to whose help he comes waits with his

men. Forthwith, shouts of respect are exchanged by the two companies.

Presently a man, who is supposed to represent the enemy, stands forth

and cries out, “Cut up! cut up! the temple receives;” intimating

probably that the enemy will certainly be cut up, cooked, and offered

to the gods. Then follow those who _bole_ or challenge. First

comes the leader, and then others, singly at the beginning, but

afterwards in companies of six, or ten, or twenty. It is impossible to

tell all that is said when many are speaking at once; but there is no

lack of bragging, if single challengers may he taken as specimens. One

man runs up to the chief, brandishes his club, and exclaims, “Sir, do

you know me? Your enemies soon will.” Another, darting forward, says,

“See this hatchet! how clean! To-morrow it will be bathed in blood!”

One cries out, “This is my club!--the club that never yet was false!”

The next, “This army moves to-morrow; then you shall eat dead men till

you are surfeited!” A man striking the ground violently with his club,

boasts, “I cause the earth to tremble; it is I who meet the enemy

to-morrow!” “See,” exclaims another, “I hold a musket and a battle-axe;

if the musket miss fire the hatchet will not!” A fine young man stepped

quietly towards a king, and, holding a pole used as an anchor for a

canoe, says, “See, sire, the anchor of Natewa (the name of the locality

threatened); I will do thus with it,” and he breaks the pole across his

knee. A man swinging a ponderous club says, “This club is a defence: a

shade from the heat of the sun and the cold of the rain.” Glancing at

the chief, he adds, “You may come under it.” A fiery youth runs up as

though breathless, crying out, “I long to be gone; I am impatient.” One

of the same kind says, “Ah! ah! these boasters are deceivers; I only am

a true man in the battle; you shall find me so.” These great swelling

words are listened to with mingled laughter and applause. Although the

speeches of the warriors are marked with great earnestness, there is

nothing of the horrifying grimace in which the New Zealander indulges

on similar occasions. The fighting men have their bodies covered with

black powder; some, however, confine this to the upper part only.

An athletic warrior, thus powdered, so as to make his skin wear a

velvet-like blackness, has a truly formidable appearance, his eyes and

teeth gleaming with very effective whiteness.

Figians, says Williams, make a show of war at the _taga_, do no

mischief, and incur no danger; and this is just what they like. The

challenging is their delight; beyond it their ambition does not reach,

and glory is without charms.

Notwithstanding the boasts of the braves, the chief will sometimes

playfully taunt them, intimating, that from their appearance he should

judge them to be better acquainted with spades than clubs, and fitter

to use the digging stick than the musket.

With taunting scorn the antagonist would reply much in the same strain,

sometimes mingling affected pity with his denunciations. When they had

finished their harangue, the _omoreaa_ club of insult or insulting

spear was raised and the onset commenced. Sometimes it was a single

combat fought in the space between two armies and in sight of both.

At other times several men engaged on both sides, when those not

engaged, though fully armed and equipped, kept their seat on the

ground. If a single combat, when one was disabled or slain, the victor

would challenge another, and seldom thought of retreating so long as

one remained. When a number were engaged and one fell, a warrior from

his own party rose and maintained the struggle; when either party

retreated, the ranks of the army to which it belonged, rushed forward

to sustain it; this brought the opposing army on, and from a single

combat or a skirmish, it became a general engagement. The conflict was

carried on with the most savage fury, such as barbarous warriors might

be expected to evince--who imagined the gods on whom their destinies

depended had actually entered into their weapons, giving precision and

force to their blows, direction to their missiles, and imparting to the

whole a supernatural fatality.

The din and clamour of the deadly fury were greatly augmented by the

efforts of the Rauti. These were the orators of battle. They were

usually men of commanding person and military prowess, arrayed only in

a girdle of the leaves of the ti-plant round their waist, sometimes

carrying a light spear in the left, but always a small bunch of green

ti-leaves in the right hand. In this bunch of leaves the principal

weapon, a small, sharp, serrated and barbed _airo fai_ (bone

of the sting-ray), was concealed, which they were reported to use

dexterously when in contact with the enemy. The principal object of

these Rautis was to animate the troops by recounting the deeds of their

forefathers, the fame of their tribe or island, and the interests

involved in the contest. In the discharge of their duties they were

indefatigable, and by night and day, went through the camp rousing the

ardour of the warriors. On the day of battle they marched with the

army to the onset, mingled in the fury, and hurried to and fro among

the combatants, cheering them with the recital of heroic deeds or

stimulating them to achievements of daring and valour.

Any attempt at translating their expressions would convey so inadequate

an idea of their original force as to destroy their effect. “Roll

onward like the billows,--break on them with the ocean’s foam and roar

when bursting on the reeds,--hang on them as the forked lightning

plays above the frothing surf,--give out the vigilance, give out the

strength, give out the anger, the anger of the devouring wild dog, till

their line is broken, till they flow back like the receding tide.”

These were the expressions sometimes used, and the recollection of

their spirit-stirring harangues is still vivid in the memory of many

who, when anything is forcibly urged upon them, often involuntarily

exclaim, _tini Rauti teia_--“this is equal to a Rauti.”

If the battle continued for several successive days, the labours of the

Rautis were so incessant by night through the camp, and by day amid the

ranks in the field, that they have been known to expire from exhaustion

and fatigue. The priests were not exempted from the battle; they bore

arms and marched with the warriors to the combat.

The combatants did not use much science in the action, nor scarcely aim

to parry their enemy’s weapons; they used no shield or target, and,

believing the gods directed and sped their weapons with more than human

force upon their assailants, they depended on strength more than art

for success. Their clubs were invariably aimed at the head, and often

with the lozenge-shaped weapon they would cleave the skulls of their

opponents. When the first warrior fell on either side a horrid shout of

exultation and of triumph was raised by the victors, which echoed along

the line, striking a panic through the ranks of their antagonists, it

being considered an intimation of the favour of the gods towards the

victorious parties. Around the body the struggle became dreadful, and

if the victors bore him away, he was despoiled of his ornaments, and

then seized by the priests or left to be offered to the gods at the

close of the battle.

The first man seized alive was offered in sacrifice, and called _te

mata-ahaetumu Taaroa_, the first rending of the root. The victim

was not taken to the temple, but laid alive upon a number of spears,

and thus borne on men’s shoulders along the ranks in the rear of the

army, the priest of Ora walking by the side, offering his prayer to the

god, and watching the writhings and involuntary agitation of the dying

man. If these agonies were deemed favourable, he pronounced victory as

certain. Such indications were considered most encouraging, as earnests

of the god’s cooperation.

They sometimes practised what they called _tiputa taata_. When

a man had slain his enemy, in order fully to satiate his revenge and

intimidate his foes, he sometimes beat the body flat, and then cut a

hole with a stone battle-axe through the back and stomach, and passed

his own head through the aperture, as he would through the hole of

his _tiputa_ or _poncho_; hence the name of this practice.

In this terrific manner, with head and arms of the slain hanging down

before and the legs behind, he marched to renew the conflict. A more

horrible act and exhibition it is not easy to conceive, yet there

once lived a man in Fare, named Tavara, who, according to his own

confession, and the declaration of his neighbours, was guilty of this

deed during one of their recent wars.

In times of war, all capable of bearing arms were called upon to join

the forces of the chieftain to whom they belonged; and the farmers,

who held their land partly by feudal tenure, were obliged to render

military service whenever their landlord required it. There were,

besides these, a number of men celebrated for their valour, strength,

or address in war, who were called _aito_, fighting-men or

warriors. This title was the result of achievements in battle; it was

highly respected, and proportionably sought by the courageous and

ambitious. It was not, like the chieftainship and other prevailing

distinctions, confined to any class, but open to all, and many from the

lower ranks have risen as warriors to a high station in the community.

[Illustration: Tonga Weapons.]

Originally their weapons were simple and formed of wood; they consisted

of the spear, which the natives called _patia_ or _tao_, made

with the wood of the cocoa-nut tree or of the _aito_, iron-wood

or casuarina. It was twelve or eighteen feet long, and about an inch

or an inch and a half in diameter at the middle of the lower end, but

tapering off to a point at the other. The spears of the inhabitants

of Rurutu and other of the Austral Islands are remarkable for their

great length and elegant shape, as well as for the high polish with

which they are finished. The _omore_ or club was another weapon

used by them; it was always made of the _aito_ or iron-wood, and

was principally of two kinds, either short and heavy like a bludgeon,

for the purpose of close combat, or long and furnished with a broad

lozenge-shaped blade. The Tahitians did not often carve or ornament

their weapons; but by the inhabitants of the Southern Islands they were

frequently very neatly though partially carved. The inhabitants of

the Marquesas carve their spears, and ornament them with human hair;

and the natives of the Harvey Islands, with the Friendly and Figian

islanders, construct their weapons with taste and carve them with

remarkable ingenuity.

The _pacho_ was a terrific sort of weapon, although it was

principally used at the _heva_ or seasons of mourning. It

resembled in some degree a club; but having the inner side armed with

large sharks’ teeth, it was more frequently drawn across the body,

where it acted like a saw, than used for striking a blow. Another

weapon of the same kind resembled a short sword, but instead of one

blade, it had three, four, or five. It was usually made of a forked

_aito_ branch; the central and exterior branches, after having

been pointed and polished, were armed along the outside with a thick

line of sharks’ teeth, very firmly fixed in the wood. This was only

used in close combat, and, when applied to the naked bodies of the

combatants, must have been a terrific weapon. The bowels or lower parts

of the body were attacked with it, not as a dagger is used, but drawn

across like a saw. Some of the fighting men wore a kind of armour of

network formed by small cords wound round the body and limbs so tight

as merely to allow of the unencumbered exercise of the legs and arms,

and not to impede the circulation of the blood. This kind of defence

was principally serviceable in guarding from the blows of a club, or

force of a stone, but was liable to be pierced by a spear. In general,

however, the dress of the Tahitian warriors must have been exceedingly

inconvenient. To make an imposing appearance, and defend their persons,

seem to have been the only ends at which they aimed, differing greatly

in this respect from the Hawaians, who seldom thought of guarding

themselves, but adopted a dress that would least impede their movements.

The Tahitians went to battle in their best clothes, and often had the

head not only guarded by an immense turban, but the body enveloped

in folds of cloth, until the covering was many inches in thickness,

extending from the body almost to the elbows, where the whole was

bound round the waist with a finely braided sash or girdle. On the

breast they wore a handsome military gorget ingeniously wrought with

mother-of-pearl shells, feathers, and dog’s hair, white and coloured.

The captives taken in war called _ivi_ or _titi_ were murdered on the

spot, or shortly afterwards, unless reserved for slaves to the victors.

The bodies of the slain were treated in the most savage manner. They

were pierced with their spears and at times the conduct of the victors

towards their lifeless bodies was inconceivably barbarous.

On the day following the battle the _bure taata_ was performed.

This consisted in collecting the bodies of the slain and offering

them to Oro as trophies of his prowess, and in acknowledgment of

their dependence upon his aid. Prayers were preferred, imploring a

continuance of his assistance.

The bodies were usually left exposed to the elements and to the hogs

or wild dogs that preyed upon them. The victors took away the lower

jaw-bones of the most distinguished among the slain as trophies, and

often some of the bones, converting them into tools for building canoes

with, or into fish hooks. Sometimes they piled the bodies in a heap,

and built the skulls into a kind of wall around the temple, but they

were commonly laid in rows near the shore, or in front of the camp,

their heads all in the same direction. Here the skulls were often so

battered with the clubs that no trace of the countenance or human head

remained.

As to the manner of disposing of prisoners towards whom the king, when

supplicated for forgiveness, preserves silence, the following brief

account of a warrior execution as related by Mariner may be offered:--

“About mid-day, or a little after, the large canoe, in which were the

prisoners lashed hand and foot, pushed out to sea under the command of

Lolo Hea Malohi, an adopted son of Finow. They had on board three old

small canoes, in a very leaky, rotten state, in which the prisoners

were destined to be put and thus to be left gradually to sink, leaving

the victims to reflect on their approaching dissolution, without having

it in their power to help themselves.

[Illustration: THE CONCLUSION OF THE TERRIBLE FARCE.]

“The distance they had to go was about two leagues, and the weather

being calm the canoe was obliged to be paddled most of the way. In the

meanwhile, some conversation passed between the prisoners, particularly

Nonfaho and Booboonoo. Nonfaho observed to Booboonoo, that it would

have been much better if they had never made a peace with Finow, and

to a certain degree, he upbraided Booboonoo with not having followed

his advice in this particular: to this the latter replied that he did

not at all regret the late peace with Finow, for being his relation,

he felt himself attached to his interests, and as to his own life, he

thought it of no value since the king did not think his services

worth having. Nonfaho stated that he had a presentiment of his fate

that very morning; for as he was going along the road from Feletoa

to Macave, he met a native woman of Hapai, and as he passed, he felt

a strong inclination, he knew not from what cause, to kill her, and

this bias of his mind was so powerful, that he could not help turning

back and effecting his purpose; at the same time he felt a secret

presentiment that he was going to die, and this murder that he had

committed appeared now to be a piece of vengeance on the Hapai people,

weak indeed in itself, yet better than no revenge at all. Nonfaho,

among other things lamented that his friend Booboonoo had not repaired

to the Figi Islands when peace was first made, and by that means have

preserved his life. As to his own safety, he said it was not a matter

of much consequence; he only lamented that he was not about to die in

an honourable way. Booboonoo expressed sentiments to the same purpose.

Cacahoo now and then joined in the conversation, remarking that he only

lamented his death inasmuch as no opportunity had been afforded him of

revenging himself upon his enemies by sacrificing a few of them.

There were eighteen prisoners on board, of whom the greater part,

before they arrived at the place where they were to be sunk, begged

that the manner of their death might be changed to the more expeditious

one of having their brains knocked out with a club, or their heads

cleaved with an axe: this was granted them, and the work of execution

was immediately begun. Having dispatched a number in this way, it was

proposed, for the sake of convenience, that the remainder who begged

to be thus favoured, should be taken to a neighbouring small island

to be executed; which being agreed on they disputed by the way who

should kill such a one and who another. Such was the conversation, not

of warriors--for knocking out brains was no new thing to them--but of

others not so well versed in the art of destruction, who were heartily

glad of this opportunity of exercising their skill without danger;

for, cowardlike, they did not dare to attempt it in a field of battle.

The victims being brought on shore, nine were dispatched at nearly the

same moment, which, with the three killed in the canoe, made twelve who

desired this form of death. The remaining six, being chiefs and staunch

warriors of superior bravery, scorned to beg any favour of their

enemies, and were accordingly taken out to sea, lashed in two rotten

canoes which they had on board, three in each, and left to reflect on

their fate, whilst their destroyers remained at a little distance to

see them sink. Booboonoo, whilst in this situation, said that he only

died unhappy on account of his infant son, who would be left friendless

and unprotected; but calling to a younger chief in the larger canoe,

of the name of Talo, begged, for the sake of their gods, that he would

befriend his child, and never see him want either clothes or food

suitable to the son of a chief: upon which Talo made a solemn promise

to take the most attentive care of him, and Booboonoo seemed quite

satisfied. Nonfaho lamented the sad disasters of that day, saying how

many great and brave men were dying an ignominious death, who some time

before were able to make the whole army of Finow tremble: he lamented,

moreover, that he had ever retreated from his enemies, and wished that

on such an occasion he had faced about, however inferior in strength,

and sold his life at a high price, instead of living a little longer to

die thus a shameful death: he earnestly requested them to remember him

in an affectionate manner to his wife. Cacahoo swore heartily at Finow

and all the chiefs of Hapai, cursing them in the most bitter manner,

and their fathers for begetting them, and heaping maledictions upon all

their generation. He went on in this manner, cursing and swearing at

his enemies, till the water came up to his mouth, and, even then, he

actually threw back his head for the opportunity of uttering another

curse, spluttering the water forth from his lips till it bereft him for

ever of the power of speech. They were about twenty minutes sinking,

after which the large canoe returned immediately to Vavaoo.