AN INHOSPITABLE RECEPTION.
We were cast ashore on the coast of Viti Levu. It was not a desert
island, but a land of tropical luxuriance, which supported 80,000
natives with very little labour; and these natives, as far as the coast
tribes (the only part of the population the white man had any knowledge
of) were concerned, were known to be the most bloodthirsty and
treacherous savages in the world, who carried on heathen abominations to
an extent unknown in any other part of the globe, while they were
privileged to live on a portion of the earth’s surface which was marked
by singular beauty.
The master and mate, who survived the wreck with me, had made a former
visit to the sandalwood coast, and knew something of the language and
ways of the natives, whose acquaintance with the white man was of
comparatively recent date. The captain expressed the opinion that our
prospects of escape from a cruel death were very small.
“The customs of this country,” said he, “oblige the natives to kill
castaways. They look upon all such people—whom they describe as persons
with ‘salt-water in their eyes’—as being delivered to them by the gods
to be eaten, and if they neglected the practice they would be fearful of
some terrible calamity befalling them.”
“To be killed and eaten,” added the mate, “is not the worst there is to
fear, either. These wretches sometimes torture their helpless victims in
a fiendish way. Only a year ago an English sailor, who had been
hospitably received on one island, got wrecked on another in a canoe
while endeavouring to reach a ship in the offing, and he had not the
good fortune to be clubbed outright. His eyelids were cut away by the
sharpened shell of the pearl-oyster, and he was then bound to a tree
with his exposed orbs turned to the full glare of the sun. When the poor
fellow was perfectly blind they skinned the soles of his feet, and then
tormented him with firebrands to make him jump about in that wretched
condition.”
For the present we were safe, however. The hurricane and the tidal wave
had destroyed the villages on the coast where we were driven ashore, and
the terrified inhabitants had fled inland, leaving the strand strewn
with their household gods, and littered with uprooted trees and
fragments torn from the dense vegetation.
Soon the storm-wrack cleared away, the heavens were a vault of blue
faintly laced with thin transparencies of clouds, the sun appeared in
all his splendour, playing on the still waters within the reef with a
myriad flashing colours, while the rainbow-tinted coral forest seemed to
wave gracefully in the shades and gleams as some bright-coloured fish
lazily stirred the thick subaqueous undergrowths. A soft pearly haze
rested on the purpling ocean, and it was difficult to believe that an
awful tempest had so recently swept over the peaceful scene. When night
came, the full moon rose radiantly in the east, throwing a broad track
of silver across the crisp wavelets, and shedding a soft halo round the
sad wreck of the Molly Asthore, so plainly doomed no more through
rolling seas to ride again.
The neighbouring thicket in which we had made some slight timorous
explorations, skirted a tropical forest in which the trees and tangled
undergrowth were so closely packed that the hurricane had done but
little damage except upon the seaward edge. The cocoanut trees, which
are not very firmly rooted, and have at the top of their high
cylindrical stems a heavy plume of leaves, among which the nuts nestle
in luscious clusters, had suffered severely wherever they were exposed
to the fury of the gale. The bread-fruit trees, which are of sturdy
growth and well-balanced with thickly-fruited branches, were not much
injured.
As we advanced into the depths of the forest, amidst the sombre foliage,
the rank matted grasses, and the festooned canopy of interlacing
parasites, the balmy air of the beach gave place to a hot, moist, and
sickly atmosphere that was very oppressive. But the luxuriant vegetation
of the jungle was of transcendant beauty. Sometimes there was a plot of
grass of a delicate green, wonderfully soft and fragrant, and
illuminated at intervals by the flaming blossoms of the hibiscus and
cactus. The kowrie or dakua grew intermingled with wild nutmegs, which
exhaled a pleasant aroma. An enormous yevu-yevu tree formed a complete
bower in itself. The small white flowers of the ivi emitted a delicious
perfume, and the kavika or malay apple-trees, had densely strewn the
ground beneath their branches with petals and stamens, giving the turf
the appearance of a tesselated pavement. Innumerable creepers and
trailing plants depended from trunk and bough, interlaced with each
other in endless coils, which turned and twisted from the roots of the
large trees, and ascended to the highest branches to fall again in leafy
steps of glossy green, or assume some new fantastic shape, and so shut
out the sun that in some of the shady dells it was impossible to avoid a
chill. The whole neighbourhood was fragrant with the scent of the lemon,
the jasmine, the pine-apple, and the orange. It was only necessary to
stretch forth one’s arm to secure a delightful repast.
We knew that the savages would not be long absent from their fishing
grounds on the reef, and we were very circumspect in our movements,
always retiring to the stranded schooner at nightfall, and keeping
careful watch.
On the third day after our almost miraculous landing on the island the
air was rent by the yells of a hundred Fijians, who had doubtless been
watching us for some time previously, and who had now determined to take
us and our fortress, the wrecked vessel, by assault.
On they came, under cover of the trees, launching at us volley after
volley of arrows, and, what were more formidable, stones from slings.
There was a breeze blowing which diverted the course of the former
missiles to some extent, and many fell short. But the stones rattled
about our ears in very uncomfortable proximity. We had a few guns, but
there were not more than half-a-dozen rounds of ammunition that had not
been hopelessly damaged by the salt-water. However, we kept the savages
at bay by occasionally dropping a man. Firearms were not unknown to
them, having been introduced in another part of the group some years
previously, but they were still very scarce, and our munitions of war
would be considered a great prize, could they be taken.
Towards evening our last shot had been expended, and the enemy held off,
waiting for the cover of darkness to make a grand rush and finish us
with the club. Ovens were already being prepared for the approaching
cannibal feast, so sure were they of the result. The captain remarked
that among the insulting fire of words the natives kept up he could
distinguish that they were bespeaking the three of us joint by joint.
They were also preparing the three kinds of vegetables always eaten with
bokola, as baked human flesh is called. These I afterwards learned were
the leaves of the malawathi, the tudano, and the borodina. The two
former are middle-sized trees, growing wild. The borodina is cultivated;
it is a bushy shrub, seldom higher than 6ft., with a dark, glossy
foliage, and berries very much like tomatoes, which have a faint
aromatic smell, and are sometimes prepared like tomato sauce. These
plants are wrapped round the several joints of the prepared human body,
and baked with them on the hot stones of the cannibal oven.
When it became apparent that our capture by club and spear was only a
question of an hour or two if we remained on the schooner, we determined
to make good our retreat to the friendly shelter of the forest. As soon
as night fell we quietly slid down a rope at the stern into the sand,
and wading some distance into the sea, travelled along the coast-line
until we were well out of reach of the cannibal horde. Then we struck
into the woods and concealed ourselves in a vast cabin formed by the
roots of a baka.
This tree resembles the famous banyan of India. Its branches are propped
up by aerial roots which run along the ground, assuming strange shapes,
and forming a fantastic maze, which is perfectly indescribable in its
convolutions. At first a parasite on other trees, it soon acquires such
dimensions that it sucks all their sap, when they die, and it then has
to draw its nourishment from the soil. The crown of the giant baka,
upborne on air roots, expands into a cloud of foliage frequently 150ft.
in diameter, or 450ft. in circumference. This hanging garden of
vegetation is decorated with pendant cacti and brilliant orchids.
Gorgeously-plumaged parrots hang among the boughs nibbling at the
blossoms, gem-like lizards bask on the trunk, and innumerable insects
hum in chorus in the foliage. Bush-ropes of every size and degree of
pliancy climb and twist about, running from tree to tree. Some stately
trunks, supported by these natural stays and braces, looked like the
masts of a fleet at anchor. The mighty baka forms an awe-inspiring
object, and is frequently made sacred to priestly incantations. Such a
tree having this character is never approached by Fijians not in the
priestly office, so that our place of concealment seemed very secure.
Presently we heard the demoniac yells of the savages. They had leaped
upon the schooner, club in hand, and found that the birds had flown.
They searched the vessel diligently, pilfering every article that could
be easily removed. It was then determined that we were hidden in some
part of the hold. They set fire to our craft, and soon the hulk, which
lay exposed on the sand, a hundred yards from the water-line, was
reduced to ashes. In the lurid light of the conflagration we could see
from our leafy cavern the forms of the all but naked Fijians dancing in
hideous glee, and anxiously watching for some sign of their expected
victims in the flames. As soon as they were satisfied that the white men
had escaped, the beach and the forest were scoured in all directions.
Numerous search parties passed close to us, but did not enter the sacred
precincts of the baka tree.
When daylight came, and we were able to see distinctly the sable forms
flitting about the wood, the captain said he thought he recognised a
chief with whom he had had transactions on his former visit to the
Sandalwood coast. He believed now, that with his slight knowledge of the
language and his acquaintance with this chief, we could deliver
ourselves up with safety, and hope to live in comfort until the arrival
of some European vessel. I was opposed to this scheme, having no
confidence whatever in the natives. But I was overruled by my two
companions.
We had each a cutlass and a gun, but no ammunition fit for use. When the
skipper called out that we surrendered, we emerged from our
hiding-place, and walked boldly towards one of the wrecked villages,
which was rapidly being set in order again, threatening the common
people around us with instant death if they offered to molest us. The
head chief of the district, Waikatakata (Hot-Water), who had been
apprised of our coming, awaited us, seated on a large stone at the door
of his roofless house, with his counsellors and a large assemblage
around him.
The captain presented a whale’s tooth, which was one of a number stowed
in the schooner for the purpose of trade, and asked the protection of
the tribe for the white men.
The important personage he addressed, called the Turanga Levu by his
vassals, had, it seemed, had no previous personal acquaintance with
foreigners.
Waikatakata said—“Welcome to the men with shark’s eyes. The people from
beyond where the ocean carries the sky can bring us guns and hatchets,
and help us to punish the insolent foe. We have heard of their prowess
in the kingdom of Bau, and desire that they should make this land their
home.”
Then rose an old priest of uncanny aspect. “Not so,” quoth he, “or evil
days will assuredly fall upon the land. When we first saw the gleam of a
foreign sail, like a spirit walking on the waters, at the meeting place
of sea and sky, where the sun is daily drowned,[2] we said, ‘These are
god-ships,’ and we longed for a visit from those divine navigators. The
white man came, as we have heard, and was believed to be a god. With his
arms of might he has done wonders for Naulivou of Bau. But when for his
oppression he fell under the avenging club of his former friends, it was
seen that he bled and was no god, but mortal as ourselves. The white
man’s gods are not the gods of Fiji. If they are to be set up here the
wrath of the great Dengeh will be aroused; he will shake with anger in
his cave, and the whole earth will be barren. It is he who has sent us
these castaways. They must die. The customs of our country and our
religion not only sanction but demand and sanctify the deed.”
Footnote 2:
The Fijian expression for horizon.
As the priest ended, it was clear that the populace sided with him. Had
it not been so he would not have spoken so boldly. The chief wavered. He
feared to arouse the ill-will of his conservative people, and at the
same time he ardently desired the power which he believed the presence
of white men could bring him.
After a brief address, in which he insinuated his own views without
appearing to express them, he concluded, “The priest has spoken with
words of earthly wisdom, but not with inspiration. Let the oracle be
consulted, and I will abide the result.”
The priest anointed himself with scented cocoanut oil, and became
absorbed in thought. The assemblage waited in breathless silence. We
watched him with a fearful interest, for our fate hung upon the end of
this strange scene.
In a few minutes a perceptible tremor agitated the old man’s frame. His
limbs twitched, and faint, rapid distortions passed over his face, like
shadows chasing each other on the water. These gradually increased till
a violent muscular action set in; foam appeared upon his lips, and he
gasped and sobbed in strong convulsions. He shouted, gnashed his teeth,
clenched his hands, swayed himself backwards and forward. He shook from
head to foot; his veins swelled till they seemed just about to burst,
and his muscles tightened till they threatened to snap. He seemed to be
lashed and torn by hurricanes of racking torture.
“Now he is possessed by his god,” it was whispered round, and every ear
was strained to catch the first words of the supernatural deliverance.
The excitement was intensified by the priest jerking forth at intervals
sundry exclamations about his god, or himself, or both of them together,
thus:—“I! I! I! It is I! The god! The god! It is we! We two!” Then,
still writhing, trembling, groaning, looking like a mad paralytic
kneeling on ground shaken by an earthquake, the people, unable to remain
quiet any longer, shouted deliriously, “That is it! See! see! Wonderful!
True! There they are! Both of them!”
The climax had now been reached. The priest, with rolling eyes and
frenzied voice, screamed, “It is I! It is I! Listen to Dengeh! Trust not
the white men. They grow slowly like the nut, and abide—the Fijians like
the plantain, and wither in a few days. Hear not the words of the
religion they bring. It is the lie of a far away path.”
The divination was clearly against us. We gathered from the satisfied
grunts and expressive gestures of our neighbours that we should shortly
be clubbed and consigned to the oven.
Meanwhile the priest was gradually recovering from his paroxysm. He
looked round with a vacant stare, as though waking from a trance, and as
the god uttered the words, “I depart,” violently flung himself down on
the ground. He remained quivering for some time, but shortly sat up,
took a draught of water, and was himself again.
The chief had been a deeply-interested spectator of the scene, but it
seemed to us that he was more moved by the attitude of the people than
by the vaticinations of the priest, in whose inspiration it is doubtful
if he believed. After some minutes of reflection he remarked, “The god
has spoken, but the fate of the white men is not decreed. The priest
shall visit the cave of the great Dengeh and show us an omen before the
club falls.”
That evening costly offerings of food, clubs, spears, native cloth, &c.,
were prepared and presented at the mouth of a cave in a neighbouring
hill, the road to which was known only to the priest. These valuable
articles were afterwards appropriated by the servant of Dengeh. Before
the offerings could be presented and the ear of the oracle gained, the
priests on these occasions must draw slowly near the holy places in a
manner that is most painfully reverential. This they do kneeling, not
crawling on all fours, as serfs do when approaching their chiefs—in this
country, a process far too easy and pleasant—but “walking” on their
knees only, without letting their hands share the burden, and without
steadying help from the toes, which dare not touch the ground, however
gently, at the peril of their owner. If, unhappily, they flagged in this
weary and painful progression, and but once allowed their feet to touch
the sacred soil, the god would turn those feet white; while if they
ventured to rest or move forward at a quicker pace, by putting their
hands on the ground, the incensed Dengeh would cause the land to be
stricken with famine.
When the god was consulted as to a declaration of war, the priest bent
his ear over the cave and listened attentively for the reply. If there
came up from the divine hiding-place a noise like the clash of arms in
battle, the priest was bound to declare that war must be the order of
the day; but if no sound broke the silence of the god’s retreat he had
as plainly to say that for the present at least the tribes might
continue in the prosperity and gladness of unbroken peace. If blood were
found on the path the following morning it was a sure indication that
the god was favourable to war, or demanded human sacrifices. If the
priest was desired to pray for rain, and to ask if the time was near
when it would be poured down on their thirsty and parched-up lands,
bending his ear again towards the Oracle he listens. Should the answer
be given in sounds like the gurgling of water streams, he has simply to
say, “The drought is at an end my friends, and the land is saved.” The
priest was generally an elderly and experienced man, with his “weather
eye,” always open, and perhaps also with a somewhat rheumatic body. If
the experienced eye could detect in the change of wind or the state of
the atmosphere that the rain was not far off, or if the sensitive nerves
from sundry twitchings and pains proclaimed it near, it is not difficult
to imagine how easily the prophetic ear of the owner of such nerves and
eye could hear the gurgling of water streams, and, if need were, even
the thunder of mighty falls.
In the present instance our ecclesiastical friend, on his way to the
cave in the screw-pine hills, took a fowl with him, and decapitated it
_en route_. It so happened that on the following morning there was blood
upon the path. We were condemned to die.