THE BIG FISH.
Half a mile from Ramáka, a small stream which had its source in the
mountains found its way to the beach and discharged itself into the sea.
The banks of this stream, within the tidal influence, were skirted with
mangroves, an encroaching growth well fitted to secure a footing on the
uncertain brink of the ocean. These strange semi-aquatic plants hold in
their meshes a vast quantity of decaying animal and vegetable matter
deposited by the tides, which alternately cover and uncover their roots
and part of the trunks. The remains of dead leaves, molluscs, and
sea-weed, ferment in the sun, forming a noisome mass in the black mud
and ooze. The pendulous roots of the mangrove take the shape of loops
and arches from 6 to 10ft. high, supporting the body of the tree. These
mazy arcades and thickets maintain an unequal strife with the ocean, but
the matted roots holding the soil, often promote the growth of land, and
gradually appropriate portions of Neptune’s domain. The receding waters
disclose an immense variety of festering life. Sea-urchins, crabs, and
many nameless things struggle in the slime. Mussels, barnacles, and
oysters, cling to the branches, passing half their time in the water and
half out, as the tide flows and ebbs. Crabs and worms, sea-centipedes,
and strange limbless forms, wriggle and scuttle together in the fierce
sun, like maggots rioting in carrion. The sea-birds here find dainty
banquets, and they love to visit these localities.
The banks of this stream had of late acquired an evil name. They were
said to be haunted by an enormous fish, or marine monstrosity, which
swallowed up men, women, and children who came within its reach. Those
Fijians who had seen the creature, and had lived to tell the tale, were
too terrified at the sight to be able to give anything like an accurate
description. It was a fact that in the course of a few weeks, nine
people who had gone to bathe in the river or draw water, had
disappeared. It was believed that they had been gobbled up by what some
called “the big fish,” and others a marine deity.
I determined to solve the mystery if possible; so one evening, wading
through the mangrove swamp, I gained the shelter of a cavern which the
sea had hollowed out of the rocky face of the rising shore, and there
waited patiently for the appearance of the monster. That it was no myth
was certain, for I saw in the ooze beneath the mangroves, the marks of
dentated feet that belonged to some animal which was, I believed,
unknown to me. As I sat in my dismal place of watching, the sombre bats,
which figure in many a gruesome Fijian story, flapped their wings
against me, giant nocturnal moths and beetles joined black Vesper’s
pageant, and the melancholy hoot of the owl took part in the nightly
revels. I could dimly see the flying foxes hanging by their unwebbed
thumbs from creviced rocks, till it suited them to spread the
umbrella-like membrane which covers their slim fingers, and dive into
the sable night. Screeching sea-birds, just going to rest, mingled their
hoarse voices with the sighing of the breakers near at hand, and the
saddened tone of the wind as it sang through the crags and crannies of
the rocks.
Presently I heard a rustling sound among the mangrove roots close by.
The noise seemed to me like that of some creature whose scales rubbed
against each other. Then there was a splash in the river, and all was
silent. I stole cautiously from my hiding-place, and gained a position
which commanded a view of the river’s banks for some short distance. In
a few minutes there emerged from the stream a creature nearly 20 feet in
length. It stretched itself, and remained motionless on the muddy bank.
I saw it clearly in the bright light of the moon, which now emerged from
a heavy pall of clouds which had long obscured it. There was no
mistaking the creature—it was a crocodile. I was as much surprised as an
English gentleman would be at finding his favourite trout stream filled
with crocodiles, for they are as foreign to Fiji as to Great Britain. It
was an inexplicable puzzle.
I made my way back to the town cautiously, and narrated my discovery.
After I had told the leading chiefs assembled in Hot-Water’s house all I
knew about crocodiles, which was that they were good swimmers, but could
not turn very rapidly either in the water or on land, it was proposed
that a man should be placed in the river as a bait, and that when the
crocodile had seized him, a large party of Fijians should be at hand to
kill it with their long spears. I would not consent, however, to the
cruelty they wished to practice on a human being. It was eventually
agreed that a rope of sinnet, with a running noose at the end, should be
passed over the bough of a tree near the lurking place of the unwelcome
visitor; that a man should sit in the loop where it trailed on the
ground; that he should run off as soon as he had enticed the creature
into the proper position; and that then 14 men, concealed at a distance,
should haul on the rope, and hoist the crocodile into a secure position
in which he could be killed at leisure. The trap was laid on the
following day, and it answered admirably. No one volunteered to act as
the bait, but a Fijian, being ordered by his chief to undertake the
duty, discharged it with so much address that the moment the crocodile
extended his jaws to seize him, he slipped away, and the noose was
tightly drawn. When the crocodile, dangling helplessly from the tree,
had been killed with spears, its body, which measured about 18ft. in
length from the nose to the tip of the tail, was cut up, baked, and
eaten, the bones being preserved for the making of spear-heads and
needles.
The capture of the crocodile was made the occasion of a great holiday
festival. The incident was witnessed from a distance by the greater part
of the townspeople, and the wild shouts of delighted laughter which went
up as the creature rose in the noose, struggling vainly, could have been
heard a mile off. No other crocodile[19] or alligator has ever been seen
in Fiji. I believed until quite recently that this one had been drifted
by currents from the East Indies. Explorations within the last year or
two in New Britain and New Ireland, islands on the east coast of New
Guinea, however, show that the rivers of those countries abound with
alligators. It is therefore much more probable that the unwelcome
visitor found its way from one of those islands. Had there been a pair
of them, they would probably have succeeded in establishing their race
in Fiji.
Footnote 19:
The destruction of a crocodile in Fiji about the beginning of the
century is a well-attested fact.