Since my first arrival at Cape Nelson, three months had gone by, during
which period the Kaili Kaili and my men had become sworn friends
and allies. The Station was nearly finished, and we began to look
anxiously for the return of the _Merrie England_; more especially
so, as our stores were running very low and a drought was preventing
our purchasing very much in the way of provisions from the natives.
The drought brought another complication: for the missionary at Cape
Vogel sent me a letter, stating that the women of the villages were
killing their infants. The practice of abortion and infanticide is
always common among the weaker non-warlike or non-cannibal tribes
of New Guinea, though unknown among the head hunters or cannibals.
I accordingly went hurriedly to Cape Vogel by boat, and threatened
and bullied the people on the subject of infanticide, and sent five
women, who had murdered their babies, to gaol; later, I had these women
transferred to Port Moresby to serve their time, as there was better
accommodation for female prisoners at Headquarters than at Cape Nelson.
Some months afterwards, I received an indignant letter from the gaoler,
asking whether I thought the Port Moresby gaol was a lying-in hospital,
as all the imprisoned ladies had either added to the population or were
about to do so.
At Mukawa, I found that, a day or so before my arrival, a large fleet
of Maisina canoes had put in an appearance, bullying and blackmailing
the inhabitants; but upon hearing that I was hourly expected with the
police, they had departed to raid elsewhere. Running up the coast
before a fair wind, I sighted the fleet of canoes leaving a small
island, but as they ran inshore I did not bother to follow them; later,
I found that an old chief, named Bogege, had been down the coast with
a party of raiders, generally raising sheol. At the island, where I
had sighted the canoes, he had landed and discovered a bêche-de-mer
trader’s house and Station, occupied by a man, his native wife, and a
dozen Suau natives. The owner was away fishing; but Bogege’s men had
outraged the women, beaten the boys, stolen everything they could lay
their hands upon, and would probably have wound up their performances
with murder, but for my boat heaving in sight. I sent Bogege a polite
message to the effect, that when I had time to attend to the Maisina,
they would have something to remember; to which he replied, “My people
have taken the feathers off their spears.” A civil Papuan declaration
of war. The fight between Bogege and myself, however, came sooner than
he expected, though, for the present, being delayed by pressure of more
urgent work.
Briefly, the following required my immediate attention. Firstly, a
tribe named the Mokoru, lying to the north of Cape Nelson, captured and
ate a number of runaway Mambare carriers: they calmly told me that they
would do the same to the police, if I interfered with them, but added,
that I myself was so repulsively coloured that they would not dream of
eating me, but would feed me to the pigs instead! “Pigs having stronger
stomachs than men!” Next, the Arifamu, to the south, ate some carriers
and snapped up one of my constabulary; he, however, escaped from them
and was rescued by us. Then the Winiapi tribe, also in the south,
plundered a trader’s vessel and defied me. “The police are but women,
and go clothed like women,” was their reply to my demand that they
surrender the offenders.
I fell upon the Mokoru first, and with good result. One dark night,
Seradi piloted the whaler up a creek leading to the house of the
principal chief, and we collared him and his son at dawn. The Mokoru,
who lived in hamlets scattered over the grassy ridges, attempted to
attack and ambush my force; but in half an hour they had learnt so
much about the effect of rifle fire in the open as to compel them to
decide that eating carriers did not pay, and also, that they had better
join the Kaili Kaili by throwing in their lot with the Government. The
Mokoru chief we caught was named Paitoto; he later turned out to be an
excellent man, and I made him Government chief and village constable
for his tribe. He told me one tale, however, that rather sickened me.
“You remember,” said Paitoto, “the morning you caught me, you were
very bad and sick from fever?” “Yes,” I replied. “Poruta made you some
soup in one of my small pots, from a pigeon he shot,” he went on, “and
you complained about the pot being greasy and made him scrub it very
clean.” “Well, what of it?” I asked. “That was the pot in which my wife
had made a stew of carriers’ hands.”
Paitoto only did about a fortnight’s gaol, and was then released to
take up his duties as v.c. Afterwards, he did a very plucky thing,
when securing a sorcerer whom I badly wanted: having made the arrest,
he locked one ring of the handcuffs on to the sorcerer and the other
on to his own wrist; and for fear that the sorcerer, on the journey,
might over-awe him, he threw the key of the handcuffs over a precipice.
Unfortunately, he then told the sorcerer such dreadful tales of what
I should do to him, that the man hurled himself over a small cliff,
carrying Paitoto with him; with the result, that Paitoto’s handcuffed
arm was badly smashed, and I had an awful job repairing it.
[Illustration: KAILI KAILI]
At last the _Merrie England_ turned up, weeks overdue, and renewed my
supplies. She also brought Richard De Molynes, a brother-in-law of the
then Governor-General of Australia, who was engaged hunting for lands
suitable for sugar growing, on behalf of some syndicate or other: I
believe the De Molynes brothers had previously gone in extensively for
sugar planting in Queensland. He remained with me, as a guest, after
the departure of the ship, in order to pursue his search throughout the
north-east. The _Merrie England_ also brought me old Bushimai and his
son Oia, from the Mambare; they had been sentenced to gaol for murder
by the Central Court, but were now to be held by me at Cape Nelson on
a sort of parole, during the Governor’s pleasure. Bushimai had already
broken out of the Port Moresby gaol, with five companions, and crossed
the island to his home; but of his five companions, only one remained,
when he reached the Mambare; and the fate of the others has always
been shrouded in mystery. Bushimai said they died of exposure and cold
on the high mountains; but when I asked him what they had found to
eat on the way, he told me that they had caught an alligator! He may
have caught an alligator; but if so, it is the first alligator I have
ever known or heard of as having its habitation on the side of a bleak
mountain range! Subsequently, after having been re-arrested, he also
succeeded in escaping from the gaol at Tamata.
Bushimai was sent to my care at Cape Nelson at his own request. I now
had one of his sons, Oia, in prison for manslaughter; and Poruta (who
was another) serving as a private in my detachment of constabulary.
Bushimai, by all conventional rules, should have been my mortal
enemy, as I had once flogged him for mutiny, and he had killed my
brother magistrate; but, as a matter of fact, we were always rather
dear friends. He was allowed to bring one wife, and a small son, with
him to Cape Nelson; I made his wife matron to the gaol, and general
over-looker of the wives of the police. Bushimai, on his first day at
the Station, began by sitting on the steps of my house; on the second
day, he had oiled himself into my office, where he sat upon the floor,
whilst I did my work or heard native cases, throwing in a little advice
at intervals; on the third day, he had made up his bed in my room; and
on the fourth day, he had picked out the largest axe on the Station,
and was acting as general overseer and adviser. “The master,” said
Poruta, “gives an order, and hits us if we are not quick; my father
hits us first to make us quick.”
I now found that a gold-prospecting party of miners had set their
hearts on penetrating into the country to the south of Collingwood Bay,
up a stream named the Laku, their cupidity having been excited by a
tomahawk stone, which had been purchased by a trader in the Bay, and
which was shot through with veins of gold. I knew quite well that if
they went in alone among the uncivilized tribes they would only end
in stirring up a lot of trouble for me; I therefore decided to escort
them beyond the range of the coastal people. Accordingly I left for the
Laku, accompanied by my police, De Molynes, the miners and their Suaus.
Arriving there, we camped on a low-lying sandy beach at the mouth of
the river, in the midst of heavy rain. The stream rose and rose in
height, until I became anxious as to the safety of my camp; and in
order to make it quite secure, shifted, late in the evening, some four
miles up stream on to higher and more solid country, and among the
Kuveri people. The Kuveri were at first much alarmed at our incursion
into their territory, and inclined from fear to be hostile; but at
last, finding that we intended no harm, and instead of interfering
with them, paid them well for any assistance they gave us, they
became very friendly. They told us that they were shut in between the
Maisina on one side, and the hostile Kikinaua tribe on the other: the
former descended periodically upon them, and carried off all their
best-looking young women, as well as levying a blackmail of pigs;
while the latter tribe constantly swooped down on their villages,
murdered and carried off--for culinary purposes--any one they could
lay hands on. Our advent they had at first regarded as their crowning
misfortune, thinking that we were yet another enemy. As they put it
to me afterwards, they would have “run away at sight of my force, but
had nowhere to run to.” I told the poor devils that, instead of adding
to their woes, we would protect them from their enemies--a promise
they at first apparently regarded as mere words. “The Maisina,” they
said in awed accents--“the Maisina are very brave and very numerous.”
Old Bushimai, who was sitting in my tent during the discussion and
listening to it with growing impatience, got up and, leaving the tent,
soon returned with his hand covered with biting crawling ants. “Look
at this,” he said to the trembling deputation through the interpreter;
“these things are even as the Maisina, and thus will we treat them.”
Then with a couple of sharp smacks he smashed the ants, and sat down to
smoke. That deputation left much impressed; meanwhile my sentries were
being posted for the night.
We had a fine, clear, starry night, and the whole camp of tired men
settled down for a comfortable rest. Bushimai slept under my hammock.
An hour before dawn, I awoke in a jumpy state of nerves, and called
to Bushimai but got no reply. More and more jumpy, I got out of my
hammock, buckled on my belts and revolver and, taking my rifle, walked
out through the sleeping camp to the sentries; as I did so, I met
Bushimai walking slowly backwards and forwards with his axe on his
shoulder. “Why don’t you sleep?” I asked him. “I felt danger in my
sleep,” he answered; “did you too?” “Yes,” I replied, “I fear I don’t
know what.” We both walked towards the sentries and met the sergeant.
“Sergeant, why are you not asleep?” I asked; “the corporal is in charge
of the sentries.” “I cannot sleep, sir,” he answered, “I woke feeling
trouble; I should like to turn out the men, but there is no reason.”
Bushimai, the sergeant and I waited until dawn, roosting round a small
fire, and watching the different men being relieved by a puzzled
corporal; then, yawning, we went off to bed again.
Later, I learnt that the Maisina had heard I was camped at the mouth
of the Laku--the camp I had vacated a few hours before--and had flung
three separate bodies of men upon it just before dawn, only to find
my expiring fires. Had we been in that camp, I am convinced that they
would have smashed us, as we should have been taken by surprise. I
leave it, however, to the psychologist to say why an attack upon a
vacated camp should affect the nerves of men four miles distant, and
why it should only affect the nerves of three men out of over one
hundred.
The following morning we marched inland into uninhabited country. The
three miners I was taking in and protecting were named Driscoll, Ryan,
and Gallagher; three wild Irishmen, whose sole topic of conversation
was the wrongs of Ireland, as extracted by them from a Fenian “History
of Ireland” which they carried. De Molynes was fool enough to argue
with them; but, after the first day, I confined myself to the society
of my police and Bushimai, in consequence of being asked: “Phwat is the
---- Government making out of us?” I felt annoyed, as, at the time, I
was feeding the men from my personal stores, and the Government was
incurring considerable expense in protecting them during a search for
gold for their own private benefit. “Blank, purse-proud Englishman, too
stuck up to speak,” I was then termed. As a matter of fact, I happened
to have been born in New Zealand, and my pay was considerably less than
that of any working miner in New Guinea.
We marched inland on a straight compass line, through jungle and
forest, cutting a track as we went; De Molynes, some police and I were
ahead, then followed a long line of carriers, then the miners and their
boys, all brought up by a rear-guard of police. At last we struck an
extensive plain, covered with wild sugar-cane from ten to twelve feet
high, through which we began to bore our way; the stuff grew as closely
together as raspberry canes, was as dry as tinder, and as tough to
cut as galvanized wire rope, the knives of the men rebounding from it
like peas off a drum. We cut our tunnel through it for about a mile;
then, noticing how extremely dry and inflammable it looked, I asked
De Molynes how sugar-cane burnt. “Like a Jew dealer’s over-insured
second-hand old clo’ shop,” he remarked; “if this catches fire, we
shall have less chance than a snowball in hell.” I halted the line,
called back to the rear-guard that there was to be no smoking, and any
tinder carried by the carriers was to be put out at once; and again
we went on. Suddenly, I heard an ominous crackling sound from behind
and, gazing back, saw a black pall of smoke rising over the rear of the
line; fortunately, there was little or no wind.
At once the long line of men in single file began to press hard on our
heels, screaming with fright: frantic with rage, I joined the police
in a solemn oath that, if we escaped, we would kill without mercy the
man or men responsible for the fire. Then in frenzied haste we cut on,
two men chopping until they fell from heat and exhaustion, then others
dashing over their prostrate bodies, seizing their tools and taking
their places, while behind came the ever-increasing roar of the fire.
Old Bushimai toiled like a man possessed of devils, dashing repeatedly
at the wall in front, and smashing with his axe, whenever the two
choppers slacked for a moment in their efforts. At last, when the
situation was apparently desperate, I sent word along the line to the
constabulary to blow out their brains as the flames reached them, after
shooting any carriers within their reach, who might prefer a bullet to
roasting. Suddenly we cut into a cabbage tree, up which one of the men
climbed. “Master,” he yelled, “the fire comes fast and the cane extends
for miles, but I see a green swampy patch with trees on the left, close
to us.” Magi, the man up the tree, extended his arm in the direction of
the wet patch, and by it I took a compass bearing, along which we cut,
emerging after about two hundred yards into an oasis formed by springs,
of about two acres of green swampy land. Man after man struggled
through by the cut track, until all were there; then, with our clothes
saturated with water and plastered with mud, we buried our faces in
moss and wet plants, and that stifling fire rolled past and over our
sanctuary.
Once safe, I inquired into the cause of the fire: as I held the inquiry
with my revolver pouch opened, and Bushimai standing alongside me
fingering the edge of his axe, it was sufficiently impressive. “It was
no fault of ours,” said the corporal in charge of the rear-guard, “it
was these fools of white men, they lit it.” I then found that, as my
order that there should be no fire or smoking had been passed back in
the vernacular, the white men had asked what was happening, and had
been told in pidgin English, “It is about fire”; whereupon they had
concluded that the advance was out of the cane on the far side, and
wished the patch burned to make the homeward march easier, and had
accordingly fired the cane before the police could prevent them.
At last we left the miners to their prospecting, in uninhabited
country, and retraced our steps to the Laku camp among the Kuveri.
These people told me that, during my absence, the Kikinaua had swooped
upon them and killed several of the villagers, whilst at the same time
the Maisina had sent in demanding the usual tribute of pigs and young
women; the Kuveri, however, had declined to pay, relying upon the
support of myself and the police. The Maisina, receiving no response
to their demands, had then changed their tactics; professing extreme
friendship towards the Kuveri, they suggested, that as the latter
were on terms of friendship with me, they should humbug us and join
with the Maisina in making a sudden attack upon my unsuspecting camp;
a proposition that the Kuveri had the good sense to decline, and to
report to me. I now had a very large bone to pick with the Maisina; but
before I could do that, I had to break the Kikinaua, and render the
Kuveri safe from inland attack by them. Accordingly, accompanied by
many Kuveri, I marched on the first Kikinaua village.
After leaving the Kuveri district, I discovered that the Kikinaua lived
across and in the midst of some particularly vile swamps, full of
plants which possessed extremely long and sharp thorns. After passing
the first swamp, we came to a strongly stockaded village named Aparu,
which, I was informed by the Kuveri, was a colony pushed out by the
Kikinaua, who appeared to be conquering and holding the country as they
advanced. This village we passed, as it had been abandoned; we soon,
however, approached a large village named Bonarua, the action of whose
inhabitants did not leave much room for doubt as to the reception with
which we were to meet at their hands. Yells of defiance were set up as
soon as our approach was perceived, and preparations for a fight made
by the natives. The village of Bonarua was one splendidly designed
for defence, being approached through a long tunnel cut through dense
undergrowth for about one hundred yards, down which one had to crawl
bent nearly double, and up to one’s knees in an unusually sticky mud:
the tunnel ended at a strong stockade, behind which was a small square
courtyard, backed by a second and much stronger stockade, flanked
by houses from which spears could be thrown on the heads of an enemy
attempting to force the gate.
Finding that it was impossible to go round the stockade owing to the
dense undergrowth, we rushed and carried the first one, the defenders
hastily falling back on the second and stronger one of the two. The
first attempt to take the second stockade failed, owing to some of
the police being delayed at the first one. On the whole of the men,
however, making a second rush at it, and Bushimai chopping away with
his axe the plaited rope hinges of the heavy wooden stockade door,
it was also carried, the defenders losing three men killed and two
or three wounded. Four prisoners were taken. News of our coming had
plainly been sent to the village, as no women or children were in it,
nor any articles such as natives value; while large quantities of
food were stacked inside the stockade, and many spears in the village
itself. There were also many more men engaged in the fight than could
have been furnished by the one village. The prisoners, upon being
questioned, admitted having constantly raided in the Kuveri district;
but pleaded in extenuation, that they themselves were constantly being
raided and murdered by a mountain tribe at the back of the Kikinaua
country, by whom they (the Kikinaua) were being driven in upon the
Kuveri. Two of the prisoners were released to carry a message to their
tribe, explaining why the visit had been made, and pointing out that
the punishment received by them was the result of their own action in
receiving us in an unfriendly manner. They were also informed that the
two men taken away would be returned, as soon as friendly relations had
been established between them and the Kuveri tribe. From what I could
gather from the prisoners later on, it appeared that the Kikinaua were
only attacked at long intervals of time by the Doriri mountaineers,
and that they could then generally manage to defend their villages.
Some time afterwards, the remaining two prisoners were returned, and
a promise of Government assistance made to their tribe, should they
in future be attacked by the Doriri. After this the Kikinaua and the
Kuveri were the best of friends and allies.
Returning to the coast after dealing with the Kikinaua, I found that
the Maisina bucks, and about a hundred of the Winiapi, had been raiding
and generally playing hell on the coast as far south as Cape Vogel,
though they had all now returned to their homes. I accordingly at once
went to Uiaku, their chief village, where I succeeded in surprising
them and grabbing half a dozen men concerned in the raiding. Whilst I
was engaged in securing these men, however, I nearly lost one of my
police, who incautiously ventured some distance from our main body and
got cut off by the Maisina; fortunately, he managed to get his back
against a tree, and to defend himself until we rescued him. We had
hardly saved this man, before the sound of firing from the whaleboat
told me that the privates I had left in charge of her were in trouble;
rushing back, we found that they had been attacked by a strong force
of Maisina; they had immediately pushed out to sea, and from there,
were firing upon their assailants. One of the arrested men was released
and sent back to his friends, with a demand that the chiefs and others
concerned in the recent raid should be surrendered to Government,
and that the remainder of the tribe should at once lay down their
arms; also, with an intimation, that obedience to this order would be
compelled by force if necessary. No notice whatever was taken of this
message, nor were any natives visible on the beach on the following
morning. On proceeding down a bush track, two of the police were again
attacked, and a general fight ensued; this fight continued for three
days, with endless manœuvres on their part and counter-moves on mine:
it ended in the hostile Maisina being driven through and out of a large
swamp, which they evidently regarded as their great stronghold, with
the loss of three killed and several wounded, they finally fleeing in a
state of utter panic.
A second prisoner was then released and sent with a message to our late
opponents, pointing out the futility of attempting to resist arrest
by force of arms, as they had been doing; and allowing them a week in
which to send in the offenders wanted in the matter of the coastal
raid. Again no notice was taken by the Maisina people of the message.
From the prisoners, I learnt later on, that Bogege, their principal
chief, was mainly responsible for the raiding at Kuveri, and had
personally conducted the party by whom the Station of the trader Clancy
had been looted and his wife subjected to ill-usage. It was palpable
that little could be done towards establishing order at Maisina, so
long as Bogege went unpunished, and was at large to influence his
people in resistance to Government authority. “Well,” I thought, “in
the meantime I’ll cripple the raiding powers of the villains as much as
I can,” and, accordingly, destroyed every large canoe belonging to them
that I could find.
Some little time later, I caught Bogege by a very lucky chance. He
always knew when I was moving with anything like a force in his
vicinity, and skipped for the sago swamps, where I could not find him;
he was too strong for a village constable to arrest, or for me to do
so, for that matter, except in strength. Bogege’s capture came about in
this way. A steamer came in from the Mambare, and the captain told me
that a launch was coming up from Samarai in a couple of days. “Ah!” I
thought, “as there are a number of petty cases of theft, assault, and
that sort of thing, to attend to at the Mission Station at Cape Vogel,
I’ll run down there in this vessel, clean up the work, and come back
by the launch; that will save me a good fortnight.” Accordingly off I
went, taking with me only a corporal, my orderly, and a private whom I
had recruited at Cape Vogel as interpreter.
We arrived at Cape Vogel: I finished my work there, and at the end
found myself with two men and three women prisoners, the latter for
infanticide. The beastly launch never put in an appearance, and later
I learnt she had broken her shaft. At last I went to the Rev. Samuel
Tomlinson and borrowed his whaleboat; it was the South-East season, and
consequently a fair wind from Cape Vogel to Cape Nelson, so that my
crew of three constabulary would be ample. “Who is going to look after
the women?” asked my corporal. “We may have to camp for two or three
nights on the way.” Private Agara, the Cape Vogel recruit, suggested
that he should take his wife for that pleasant task, she being then in
her village. This was really rather artful on the part of Agara, it
being one for me and two for himself, as first year’s men, such as he
was, lived in the barracks, and were not allowed to have their wives
with them; while the married men of longer service lived in separate
houses, and had altogether a better time. Agara knew that if he once
got his wife landed into married quarters, the chances were that I
could be persuaded into allowing her to remain. “Very good, bring your
wife; but remember she must return by the first vessel,” I replied.
Accordingly Mrs. Agara came with us.
We set sail, my argosy’s complement consisting of myself, three
constabulary, one acting wardress, two men and three women prisoners.
While running up the coast, just off the Lakekamu River, as night was
closing in, we met a Kuveri canoe, which Agara hailed; he spoke to them
for a few minutes, then turned to me and, with his eyes bulging with
excitement, said, “They say Bogege is camped on a small island close to
Uiaku, fishing; he thinks you went to Samarai in the steamer.” I sat
and thought: months might elapse before I got such a chance again; but
then, only three fighting men with me, and a small whaleboat already
cluttered up with prisoners! Prudence told me to go on to Cape Nelson
and get the detachment, common sense told me that by the time I had
done that, Bogege would probably have heard of my return and retreated
to a safer spot. “Ask them, Agara, if they know how many men he has
with him.” The reply came that, with the exception of two minor chiefs
whom they named, they had not heard who was with him. The two men
they mentioned I also wanted badly for certain devilries; they acted
as Bogege’s lieutenants in most of his villainies. “Any women or
children with him?” I asked next. “We are not certain, but don’t think
so,” was the reply. “Canoes?” I next queried. “Yes, some new big ones
he has built, how many we don’t know.” “Hm!” I thought, “it may be a
peaceful fishing party, but Bogege, his two chief scoundrels and new
canoes, looks more like fresh devilment; especially as he thinks I am
out of the way, and knows the police are all at Cape Nelson.”
[Illustration: SERGEANT BARIGI]
I looked at my men. “Well, shall we take Bogege? You have heard the
tale; he may have fifty or he may have a hundred men with him, and we
can’t find out until we are amongst them.” They looked at one another,
then they looked at me; then Corporal Barigi said, “It is for you
to say.” “Yes, you mutton head,” I snapped at him, “but what do you
think?” “I don’t think,” he answered. “You say we are to try and take
Bogege; all right, we try; you say Bogege too strong; all right, we
go to Cape Nelson.” At last I decided that the chance of catching
the old scorpion was too good to lose, and told the police we would
make the attempt; clearly they thought we were taking on the devil of
a tall order, but even so, the prospect of an uncommonly good scrap
pleased them. The men prisoners were then taken into our council;
their villages had frequently been raided by our quarry, and they both
hated and feared him. My plan was to approach the island at about an
hour before dawn, find out by the fires on which side the natives were
encamped, and then sneak up on the other side. The police and I would
land with handcuffs, while the prisoners looked after the boat; if
anything happened to us, they were to bolt at once for Cape Nelson, and
there tell the constabulary what had occurred.
We sneaked up to the island in the dark, feeling our way on a falling
tide, over the deep patches and channels of a wide coral reef. Then the
four of us crept slowly across the island, until we found ourselves
in a large camp of mostly sleeping natives; to locate Bogege was the
work of a moment, while the camp awoke with a clamour. Agara and
I got up to him. “Up with your hands, Bogege! The Government has
come for you!” said Agara. Bogege saw the uniforms and rifles, and
promptly surrendered, with the sole remark, “Those lying Winiapi told
me that ‘The Man’ had gone to Samarai.” (“The Man,” by the way, was
my name amongst the natives.) We got five other offenders as well,
Agara yelling all the time to the natives, that they were covered by
the rifles of the police hidden in the scrub. Then we marched our
handcuffed gang back to the whaleboat, and dumped them in, just as the
remaining natives discovered our weakness and the bluff we had put up,
and flew for their spears.
The whaleboat was now so far aground that, with her increased load, we
could not hope to get her off before dawn, which was fast approaching.
Hastily pulling out my revolver, I handed it to Mrs. Agara, ordering
Agara to tell Bogege and his fellow prisoners that Mrs. Agara would
shoot them, and the Cape Vogel prisoners knock out their brains with
tomahawks, if they attempted to escape or take part in the coming
fight. As they were all linked together with handcuffs, they were
fairly helpless.
The three police and I went ashore again, and took cover between the
boat and the now thoroughly incensed natives; a scrappy, desultory
fight then took place, lasting until daylight. Neither side could see
the other; the scrub, the dark and general uncanniness of the thing,
confused the natives and prevented them from charging. Spears thrown
at random, or at our rifle flashes, rattled amongst us and the stones
and bushes in which we were sheltering; whilst every now and then a
yelp or a falling body told that some of our shots were taking effect.
As soon as dawn broke the natives drew off a little; whereupon we
rushed our whaler out a couple of hundred yards over the reef, Bogege
and his fellows being made to wade and haul with the rest. We then
hastily pulled round the island to where Bogege’s camp was situated;
here, standing off in deep water, at about a hundred yards’ range, the
police made such practice that, in a few minutes, the now thoroughly
demoralized natives bolted across the island. Covered by our rifles,
our two Cape Vogel prisoners then landed, and chopped holes with
tomahawks in the bottoms of about a dozen large canoes. Then, very
pleased indeed with ourselves, we hurried home as fast as sail and
paddle could drive us to Cape Nelson; the two Cape Vogel prisoners had
taken some paddles from Bogege’s canoes, so he and his friends had the
pleasure of speeding their way to gaol with their own paddles.
On the way back, Agara thought he would take advantage of my pleased
mood to broach the subject of his wife remaining permanently on the
strength at the Station. “My wife was very useful last night,” he
began, “she is a very clever, hard-working woman; she can wash clothes
better than any of the wives of the police at the Station, white
clothes and tablecloths and things like that. Mrs. Tomlinson taught her
at the Mission.” “It must be very pleasant for you to have a wife like
that,” I remarked, apparently not rising to the occasion. “Yes, sir!
Yes, sir! But I thought perhaps you might like her to remain with me
at the Station to wash your clothes.” “Yes, Agara, but you know ‘ten
bobbers’ are not allowed on the strength.” (“Ten bobbers” are first
year’s men at 10_s._ a month.) Agara’s face fell as he repeated this to
his wife, who had been hopefully watching us, and trying to follow the
conversation; great tears rolled down that lady’s face and fell splash
on the gunwale. “Tell your wife, Agara, that if she howls now, I’ll put
her with the sergeant’s wife, and you in barracks.” Agara, snuffling
slightly himself, told her; whereupon she scandalized every one by
hurling herself into the bottom of the boat and howling dismally.
“Corporal, will you kindly tell this husband of a contumacious and
mutinous wife, that though ‘ten bobbers’ are not allowed wives, full
privates are; and that after last night he is a full private at a
pound.” Mrs. Agara dried her tears, while Agara showed his gratitude by
quite unnecessarily assisting my orderly to clean my belts and arms.
A few days after my return to the Station, a large number of Maisina
canoes appeared and landed some minor chiefs, by whom I was informed
that the Maisina desired to make peace with the Government, and would
consent to the appointment of a village constable; they brought with
them the son of a late very prominent chief as a candidate for the
office. The man was given the appointment, and subsequently I had
little trouble with that people; individual crime, of course, took
place, but organized collective communal crime, such as raiding and
plundering, became a thing of the past, and the coastal people enjoyed
a security previously undreamt of by them.
Bogege and his friends were sentenced to six months’ imprisonment;
after which, as he then saw the error of his ways, I made him also a
village constable.