The night before I sailed from Samarai, Sione came to me and told me
that he had recently been married, and that Moreton had promised to
allow him to take his wife on the next round trip of the _Siai_; he
also asked a like permission for Warapas. I remarked, that if Moreton
had given leave I had no objection, and that if one woman came, I saw
no reason why two should not. “Very good, sir,” said Sione; “if you
have no objection, Warapas will get up anchor and take the _Siai_ out
when you are ready, and a new boy, who signed on to-day, will act as
mate; I will go off in a canoe and pick up my wife and Mrs. Warapas,
and come on board as you go through the passage, since the tide will
not allow me to come back.” To this I consented, telling Sione to order
Warapas to send a boat off for me at midnight, when the tide served.
Night and eleven o’clock came, my books, papers, and private stores
were sent off to the _Siai_, when Poruma--Moreton’s private attendant
who had been handed over to me during his absence--said, “You have
no whisky on board, sir.” Accordingly I went up to Billy’s pub to
buy some; emerging from there, with a bottle of whisky clasped in
each hand, I encountered a boat’s crew from the _Siai_, and the newly
signed-on acting mate. That potentate gazed at my bottles and me,
and then commanded his boat’s crew to seize me and take me on board;
protests, curses, and threats were unavailing; seized I was, held
firmly, dragged on board, and shoved down into my cabin, to be joined
the next moment by a frightfully angry and protesting Poruma. “What
the devil is the meaning of this, Poruma?” I demanded. “I don’t know,
sir, I think the new mate is mad.” The cabin door was locked, and I
cursed through the ports, while Poruma abused the crew in Suau and
threatened the vengeance to come. Slowly the _Siai_ dropped down the
harbour, until a canoe scraped alongside and Coxswain Sione came on
board, and in a moment the cabin scuttle was unfastened and Poruma and
I released. Foaming with rage, I paraded the crew on deck and demanded
an explanation of the outrage, which was explained in this way: the
acting mate had served in a trading vessel at Thursday Island, where
his master was in the habit of getting beastly drunk on the eve of
sailing, and refusing then to come on board; and he always instructed
a boat’s crew to land, dodge about outside the pub, and carry him on
board whether he liked it or not. Going ashore with a crew to fetch
me, he had been told by Poruma that I had gone to the pub; he had
followed me there and, seeing me emerge with two bottles of whisky in
my hands, had concluded that his old Thursday Island custom was to be
carried out. My violence, threats, and curses he had taken as quite
in the natural order of events. I listened to the explanation, and
then gently suggested that the acting mate should spend the next two
days at the mast-head; Poruma said he ought to be ironed and put in
the hold, as his violent action had prevented him from telling me that
there was no soap on board. “Where is the ship’s soap, Sione?” I asked.
“That has nothing to do with my private stores.” “Mr. Moreton,” said
Sione, “met plenty ships and plenty dirty men; when a dirty man came
on board the _Siai_, Mr. Moreton would say as he left, ‘take this with
my compliments,’ and give him a bar of soap. I suppose Mr. Moreton or
Poruma forgot to tell you that it was all done.”
At Dobu I landed and called on the Rev. William Bromilow; as both he
and Mrs. Bromilow had spent many years engaged in missionary work among
the islands and were great friends of Moreton’s, he acted as a sort of
bureau of information in regard to the native affairs of Normanby and
Ferguson Islands. He nearly always had a long list of native crimes for
one to investigate, principally murder, sorcery and adultery; the two
latter, unless promptly attended to, invariably ended in the former.
Bromilow gave me word of the man Ryan, and some particulars as to where
I could find the native witnesses to the murder, which he had been
reported as having committed; off accordingly I went, and arrested him.
The affair shortly was this. Ryan and his mate had been prospecting
Normanby Island for gold: having no luck, they had gone to a native
village and endeavoured to hire a canoe and some natives to take them
to Dobu, where they hoped to find a vessel bound for Samarai. The
natives undertook to take them there, “to-morrow”; several days passed
and it was still always, “to-morrow.” The two white men became angry,
thinking that the natives were merely fooling them and keeping them
hanging on for what they could get in the shape of tobacco and “trade.”
Accordingly Ryan had gone to a canoe that was lying on the beach and
threatened that, unless the natives launched it at once and took them
to Dobu, he would break it up; it was explained to him that the owners
of that canoe were away and therefore it could not be used. Ryan
refused to believe the natives and began to smash it with a tomahawk;
at once a native, armed also with a tomahawk, rushed at him to protect
the canoe. Ryan then drew his revolver and shot the man. I committed
him to the Central Court for trial; and, not wishing to carry him and
his mate about with me on the _Siai_, decided to run back to Samarai
and lodge him in the gaol, pending the arrival of the Chief Justice.
Hardly had the _Siai_ dropped anchor in Samarai harbour, than Symons
came running down the beach yelling, “The Mambare men in the gaol have
broken loose; they have cleared out the warders and are now armed with
crowbars and picks. For God’s sake hurry up!” Hastily I ran up to the
gaol, followed by my armed boat’s crew, and in a few minutes we had the
Mambare men in irons. Then I sent for Armit, to ask his advice as to
what I should do with them. “Flog the ringleader and keep the lot in
irons,” said Armit; “there is nothing else to be done.” The following
morning, as visiting Justice to the gaol, I held an inquiry into
the whole affair, the result of which was that I ordered Goria, the
murderer of Clark, and Bushimai, who were responsible for the outbreak,
each to receive six lashes with a “cat of nine tales.” This being done,
and Ryan having been safely lodged in gaol, I sailed again for Dobu and
the Trobriands.
At Dobu I learnt from Bromilow that Fellows needed me badly, and so
went straight on to the Trobriands. One morning at daybreak, when
the _Siai_ was about twenty miles away from the group, Sione came
to my cabin and said, “The _Eboa_ is in sight, sir.” I went on deck
and sighted Graham’s old tub about five miles distant, and palpably
endeavouring to dodge away from us. “Chase, Sione,” I said. “Give the
_Siai_ all she can carry.” It was a dirty morning, with a rough sea and
nasty fierce rain squalls at intervals. Until the _Eboa_ was sighted we
had been dodging along under mizzen, staysail and jib only; Sione--who
was at all times only too pleased to carry on--at once set mainsail and
topsails, and the _Siai_, with her lee rail under water, tore after the
_Eboa_ as if she liked it. We began rapidly to overhaul her, while the
wretched _Eboa_ tried every point of sailing in an effort to escape.
“Look, sir,” said Sione, “a _guba_ to windward.” A _guba_ is a fierce
blinding rain squall, very narrow in width--sometimes only half a mile
and seldom more than three miles--tearing its own track across the
sea, and rarely lasting more than half an hour to an hour in duration.
I looked at the _guba_, then I looked at the wriggling _Eboa_, still
carrying every possible stitch of her ragged canvas. “Carry on,
coxswain,” I said; “it would be a disgrace for the Government ship to
shorten sail while that old tub carries it.” Whish! came the _guba_; on
her beam ends went the _Siai_; bang! bang! bang! went topsail, staysail
and mainsail; and, amidst the devil’s own din, we brought the crippled
_Siai_ up into the wind, hove-to, and began to clear away our wreckage.
Nothing was to be seen more than fifty yards away in the blinding rain
and spray torn from the tops of the waves by the squall. “God help the
_Eboa_,” I said to myself, “for she must have gone to Kingdom come.”
As we worked at our wreckage, the _guba_ passed as swiftly as it had
come, and when the sky cleared we sighted the _Eboa_ uninjured, still
carrying all sail, the squall having missed her altogether. While we
watched her, she apparently became aware of the crippled state of the
_Siai_, for she suddenly went about and stood down to us; when within
hailing distance Graham jumped on her rail and hailed: “_Black Maria_,
are you in any danger?” “No,” I yelled back, “but there is a fine big
bill for sails, thanks to you.” “All right, good-bye, this is no place
for me;” and away went Graham, while the _Siai_ proceeded to crawl
into the Trobriands. I did not again fall in with Graham for many
months, by which time he had paid his debts and the summonses had been
withdrawn. When I did fall in with him, however, there still remained
the matter of the anchor and chain. “Touching the matter of that anchor
and chain,” I remarked. “There will be nothing further said about it by
either Moreton or myself; that matter is settled once for all, after
the way you stood down to my assistance in the _guba_, knowing well
that, even if you helped me, I should have been obliged to serve the
summonses on you and haul you into Samarai to answer to them, and that
if I discovered the Government anchor and chain in your ship, I should
also have had to jug you. I have reported the gear as lost, and if
there is any further fuss, either Moreton or I will pay for them; but I
want to know whether you really did collar them?” “If nothing further
is to be said,” replied Graham, “I don’t mind telling you that I did
take them. By the time I had refitted the _Eboa_, I was up to my eyes
in debt to the stores; and they--knowing that they had the security
of my boat whilst in Samarai--would not sell me an anchor and chain,
for fear of my clearing out to German New Guinea and leaving them in
the lurch. I always meant to pay my debts to them, but I couldn’t do
it while the _Eboa_ was tied up in Samarai; I would not steal the gear
from a trader who could ill spare it, but I thought the Government
could well afford an anchor and chain for an enterprising pioneer.
Accordingly, one night I quietly sailed alongside the _Siai_, when only
a few of her crew were on board, and sending a couple of my boys to
her with a concertina and a supply of betel-nut, they wiled her anchor
watch into going into the forecastle. I then unshackled the _Siai’s_
chain at her windlass, fastened it on to my own, and--as the _Siai_
drifted away--got my own boys back on board, lifted the anchor and went
out to sea. The rest of the story you know; but, as a matter of fact,
when you chased me, the _Siai’s_ anchor and chain were the only ones I
possessed. Now they are at the bottom of the sea, for as soon as I
had money enough to pay my debts and buy some gear, I let her anchor
and chain go in deep water.” I only met Graham again once or twice,
but he afterwards took an appointment under some German prospecting
company, and was killed in German New Guinea.
[Illustration: VILLAGE IN THE TROBRIAND ISLANDS]
At last the _Siai_ came to anchor off Kavitari, and I called upon the
Rev. ---- Fellows, and asked him what all the trouble was about. The
first thing was, that there had been an epidemic of some sort among
the natives, scores had died, and been buried a few inches below the
surface in the houses of the village; truly the stench was appalling.
The village was situated only a few score yards from the Mission
house. I sent for the village constable, and demanded what he meant
by allowing burials in the village. “I cannot do anything with the
people,” replied the village constable; “they will not listen to the
wise orders of the Government or the good advice of the missionary.”
“He is a liar,” said Poruma; “make him dig up the corpses and put them
in the cemetery. That man has got ten wives, and is always gammoning
Mr. Moreton; some of his relations are buried in his own house.” “Is
this village constable to be altogether trusted?” I asked Mr. Fellows.
“No,” was the reply; “I regret to say that he gives me more trouble
than any one else, and shelters himself under the protection of the
Government and his office.” “Then, Mr. Fellows,” I said, “I should
be greatly obliged if you would send off your Mission boat to the
_Siai_, to carry a messenger from me, who will instruct Sione to land
all available men, whilst I pay a visit to the v.c.’s house.” Poruma
told the v.c. that we were going to his house, and he at once tried to
make excuses to leave, upon the ground that he wished the village and
his house cleaned up to a fitting state to receive me. “Don’t let him
go,” said Poruma; “the last time we were here, he got ten pounds of
tobacco from Mr. Moreton to buy yams with, and then got called away to
see a sick mother.” Poruma then kindly leading the v.c. by the hand,
we proceeded to his house; there--as Poruma had said--we found several
bodies just beneath the floor, which the v.c. swore must have been
placed there without his knowledge.
Going along through the village, Poruma still kindly leading the v.c.
by the hand, we found everywhere freshly buried bodies. Mr. Fellows,
who had at first accompanied me, then, at my request, went back to the
Mission house, for the village was now swarming like a hive of angry
bees. Sione, Warapas and a dozen armed men having by this time made
their appearance, I ordered the v.c. to tell the villagers at once to
disinter their dead and bury them in the cemetery. For a few minutes
we were defied, but the police--mercilessly using the butts of their
rifles on the heels and bare toes of the men--made them see reason,
and drove them to the graves, where they were compelled to gather
up the rotting remains of the corpses in baskets, and carry them to
the cemetery. Once, and once only, they turned nasty; but Warapas
immediately withdrew a boat’s crew and, before half a dozen levelled
rifles, the Kavitari men funked. That exhuming of bodies was altogether
a sickening and disgusting business, for matter and beastliness dripped
the whole time from the baskets, and carriers, police and myself were
seized by periodical fits of vomiting.
Having cleaned up the village, I again visited Mr. Fellows and asked
him what his further troubles were. I found they were mainly due to the
influence of the old paramount chief of the islands, Enamakala, who
lived some ten miles inland, and who instigated thefts from the Mission
and attacks upon the teachers. Plainly it was necessary for me to deal
with the old chief, but I knew that, if I marched inland with an armed
force, there would be a lot of bloodshed and the chief would escape; if
I left, however, without doing anything, he would become bolder, and
the position of the Mission after my departure would be an impossible
one.
Accordingly, accompanied by Poruma and Warapas, I went off to his
village, first sending one of the local natives ahead to tell him I
was coming. Poruma wore Moreton’s revolver under his jumper, and I, a
couple of revolvers under a loose shirt: Warapas carried my gun, for
the ostensible purpose of shooting pigeons, but had a supply of ball
cartridges in his pouch. For fighting in scrub, a double-barrelled
fowling piece with ball is just as effective as a rifle--shot, of
course, is not much use against men carrying thick shields. Passing
through the numerous villages on the way to the centre one, where the
old chief lived, I noticed everywhere fresh graves under the houses,
and found there were large numbers of the villagers sick and dying
from dysentery. Arriving at my destination, I found the chief seated
on a sort of raised platform, surrounded by at least two hundred men,
who all set up a tremendous clamour as I walked up to him. “Tell
him, Poruma, that I have come to have a little friendly conversation
with him,” I said, as I climbed up on to the platform alongside old
Enamakala, who was an enormously fat man with a shaved and shining
head. Poruma told him what I said, and he replied that it was good
and he was pleased to see me. Then he wanted to know why Warapas and
Poruma did not stoop half-double before him as did his own people.
“Because they serve the great white Queen whom the Governor told you
about,” I replied, “and stoop before no man.” Old Enamakala gave me
some fruit, and I presented him with some cigarettes; then we settled
down to business. First of all I asked him to make his people stop
yelling, as it was not fitting that our conversation should be carried
on in such a babel; a sort of grand vizier person, with a face like a
fowl, screeched at the crowd and the noise fell to a murmur. The chief
suddenly bent over to me and ran his hands over my waist; as they came
in contact with the pistol butts he smiled knowingly at me and said:
“That is good. Poruma, tell your master I wanted to know whether he
was fool enough to walk the bush paths unarmed.” Poruma told him, that
as an act of politeness to him I had covered up my arms (great always
was the cheek of Poruma), as I did not wish to make him nervous, but
that now, as we were on such friendly terms, I should wear them openly.
Accordingly I slipped my hand inside my shirt, unhooked my belt and
fastened it on again outside, Poruma doing the same.
Then, through Poruma, I told him the Government was exceedingly
displeased with him for allowing his people to steal from the Mission,
and for threatening the teachers with spears; also for permitting
the burial of the dead in the villages, and for refusing to send the
children to school. Then I demanded that some six men, whose names the
missionary had given me as having behaved in a particularly outrageous
manner, should be given up; also that he should come out with me to the
coast and attend at the Court, at which I should punish the wrongdoers,
as a sign that he supported the authority of the Government. The chief
said he did not want to go to the coast, and that he did not know where
the men were. “If I don’t get the men I want,” I said, “I shall keep
you in gaol until I do get them; as for coming to the coast, you must
do that, whether you like it or not; I promise you safety and release
when I get them.” The devil’s own clatter was set up by the natives at
this, but Poruma yelled at them to shut up. “Tell the chief, Poruma,
that I have twelve lives at my belt, and if there is any hostility,
I’ll blow a hole through him as a start.” Old Enamakala said, that he
would not have seen me, if he had known I was going to treat him in
such a fashion. “Tell the old reprobate, Poruma, that I know he thought
he was safe, when he heard there were only three of us coming; and that
I also knew, that if I had come with a strong force, he would have
slipped into the bush, and set his people chucking spears.” The chief
argued and protested for some time; then he said that he would come in
his own palanquin, as he was fat, and also that it was not dignified
for him to walk so far. “You tell him that the Governor is the biggest
chief in New Guinea, and he walked right across the island, so that he
can walk to the coast. I walk first, then he comes, then follow you and
Warapas, and Enamakala can have as many men as he likes bringing up the
rear.” The chief grumbled and complained, but at last we set off in the
order named, with Heaven only knows how many hundred men following us,
and the women all howling behind. Half an hour after we started on our
journey to the coast, a messenger caught us up and told me that the six
men I wanted were coming after us to surrender themselves.
Half-way to the coast, we got one bad fright, for a terrific yelling
broke out ahead of us and was taken up by the men behind. The chief
gabbled excitedly to his followers, whilst I held him affectionately by
the arm with one hand, and ostentatiously displayed a heavy revolver in
the other. “Ask him what the devil all the racket is about, Poruma.”
Then we found that a large body of natives was preceding us, warning
the villagers, that they were not to interfere in what was taking
place; this party had come into contact with a couple of boats’ crews
from the _Siai_, whom Sione, getting nervous, had dispatched after
me. I sent Warapas off with one of the chief’s followers to bring the
_Siai’s_ men to me, and told Enamakala that there was nothing to get
excited about, as it was only an escort coming up to accompany me home
in fitting state. When we arrived at the Mission Station, I found the
six offenders whom I wanted, sitting outside, they having made a detour
in the bush and passed us on the way. “Good Heavens!” called out Mrs.
Fellows to her husband as I entered the Mission grounds, “here comes
the great Enamakala, following Mr. Monckton like a little dog!” “Mrs.
Fellows,” I remarked, “if you want to make a lifelong friend of the old
fellow, you will give him some sugary tea at once, for he has walked
further and faster than ever in his life before. He is not a bad old
chap when you know the way to treat him.” The chief spent the night on
board the _Siai_: I reassured him by permitting about twenty of his
people to sleep on board also.
On the following morning I held a session of the district court at
the Mission house, and sentenced the six offenders to varying terms
of imprisonment. The chief at once became very friendly with the
missionary, and begged him to intercede with me for the men, saying
that if Mr. Fellows could get them let off, he would help the Mission
in every possible way. Mr. Fellows accordingly begged me to let them go
again, and I like a fool consented, thinking that I should encourage
friendly relations, and at the same time save the Government the
expense of six prisoners; but later, when the Governor heard what I had
done, he gave me--as I have previously mentioned--a severe lecture for
permitting the Mission to interfere with the course of justice. The old
chief then made me a present of his own carved lime spoon; I told him
that I should like to make him a return present, but that I did not
know what to give him--the trade in pearls had filled his villages with
tomahawks, print, trade goods, etc., and really I had nothing to give
that he did not possess already. “I have not got a knife to cut off
my hair with, such as that you used this morning,” he said; therefore
I conferred upon him my razor, strop, and brush, with a couple of bars
of yellow soap, which I got from the Mission. Old Enamakala was much
pleased with the gift, and, when we parted, he swore there should be no
further burials in the villages, or harrying of the missionaries.
At the Trobriands more outward and visible signs of respect were paid
to the chiefs than I have met with in any other part of New Guinea.
The old paramount chief never walked, but was always carried in a
palanquin borne on the backs of men, and was invariably accompanied by
his sorcerer and a sort of grand vizier. Before the old chief, women
crawled on their bellies, and men bent almost to the ground.
I have lately received from Dr. Seligman, F.R.S., a book written by him
entitled, “The Melanesians of British New Guinea,” in which he flatly
contradicts a statement made by Sir William MacGregor that Enamakala
was the paramount chief of this group of islands. Dr. Seligman is a
personal friend of my own, and a man of world-wide celebrity as an
authority upon anthropology, and he is a man to whose views, in most
cases, I should immediately defer; but, in this instance, I have no
hesitation in saying that he is not right.
Sir William MacGregor’s statement was quite correct; he is not a man in
the habit of making rash assertions upon hearsay evidence. Moreton knew
the Trobriand Islands better than any man either before or since, and
he always held that undoubtedly Enamakala was paramount chief. I, when
acting for Moreton, never had occasion to doubt this fact, and never
met a chief who disputed his position as such; in fact, I myself have
seen the chiefs stooping before him and paying homage. Certainly after
his death, “Christianized” chiefs, under the influence of the Mission,
declared that his successor had no authority over them, as did also
other chiefs holding Government authority as village constables; but
before the domination of Government and the influence of the Mission
were established, there is no doubt Enamakala was supreme.
Elaborately carved and painted shields and spears of heavy ebony were
the arms of offence and defence of the Trobriand Islanders; both
plainly showing, by their exaggeration of design and size, that long
since, this people had finished with fighting or war as a serious
thing. Broad-bladed wooden clubs, shaped like a Roman sword or a
Turkish scimitar, were also carried; but all alike showed, from their
fantastic carving and shape, that beauty of pattern and design had been
far more considered by the makers than effectiveness as weapons. The
Trobriand people, or rather their sorcerers, had brought poisoning to
a fine art, using as their most deadly poison the gall of a certain
species of fish.
The Trobriand people acquired so many steel tools from their trade in
pearls, that afterwards, the astute German Harry made a good haul in
money by purchasing back from the natives--for tobacco--hundreds of
axes, adzes, and tomahawks, which he then sold to miners bound for the
Mambare, or traders working at other islands where the steel tools
still possessed a very high value. Leaving the Trobriands I fell in
with his vessel, the _Galatea_, and held an inquiry into the death
of one of his crew; he, however, came out of it with a clean sheet,
and was rather aggrieved at the Government considering it necessary
to watch him so closely. Harry’s vessel was loaded with native sago,
cocoanuts, tobacco, and a deck cargo of pigs, which he was going to
exchange for pearls. Parting with him, the _Siai_ sighted and chased a
cutter, but the people on board her apparently had bad consciences, for
she fled over a reef where the water was too shallow for the _Siai_ to
follow, and disappeared into the night.
At Wagipa we caught Patten, and I committed him to the Central Court
for trial for shooting a native during a quarrel; we also took with
us his native wife, Satadeai, and half a dozen native witnesses of
the shooting affray. The _Siai_ left Wagipa towing Patten’s boat--a
thing little bigger than a whaleboat, and hitherto manned solely by
Patten and his wife. As we stood across the Straits between Ferguson
and Goodenough Islands, the look-out at our mast-head reported a large
canoe, crowded with men, and apparently trying to dodge out of our
way. The _Siai_ ran down to the canoe before a strong breeze; she came
from the northern coast of Goodenough Island, but we found nothing
suspicious in her; so, after exchanging a few sticks of tobacco for
fish, we went on our way.
Night, a strong south-easter and rough seas came together; by morning
we were still battling against the head wind, in much the same place
as we had been on the previous evening. Again the look-out reported
a canoe; this time a small out-rigger, struggling in the big seas,
with but a single man in it. To the canoe went the _Siai_, only to
find the man half paralysed by fright and exhaustion; time and again
we got within a few yards, yelled at him and threw ropes, but all he
would do was to look straight ahead and mechanically keep, with his
paddles, his tiny craft’s head to the waves. The sea was too rough for
us to drop a boat, but at last, sailing close to the canoe, Poruma
and Warapas--secured by ropes round their waists--leapt into the sea
and fastened a rope round the stranger and his canoe, whereupon we
hauled the lot on board together. We found the native to be a Ferguson
Islander, who had been taken by surprise and blown out to sea by the
squalls of the previous night. The man at first was greatly relieved
and overjoyed at finding himself safe on the _Siai_; then, when warmed
and fed, he got in a funk that we should carry him away with us, as
others of his people had been carried off by strange vessels. “Take
me to my home,” he said, “and I will give you pigs or women, yams and
sweet potatoes.” Satadeai told him we did not want his gifts, but
would safely land him at his village when the weather permitted; also
that I should be pleased if he would induce his friends to sell us
all the yams and sweet potatoes they did not require. The _Siai_ then
put in three uncomfortable days, waiting for the weather to moderate
sufficiently to permit us to land the man; then land him we did, and
that was the last we saw of either him or his yams.
We learnt one thing, however, from his village friends and relations,
namely, that the large canoe we had spoken the day before we picked him
up, had been to Ferguson on a cannibal raid, where they had captured
and eaten several people. I groaned as I thought how I had had that
canoe full of malefactors in my hands, and had let them go; I also
thought of the delightful story they would be able to tell in the
villages. Poruma said, “Mr. Moreton would have known; he would not have
let that canoe go. Mr. Moreton, he----” What Moreton would have done, I
don’t know, as Poruma was asked to go to the mast-head and wait there
until I needed him. Poruma at times was trying to the nerves! From here
we sailed for Samarai.