PART IV

Wanderings Among South Sea Savages

And in Borneo and the Philippines

By

H. Wilfrid Walker

Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society

With forty-eight plates from photographs by the author and others

London

Witherby & Co.

1909

To

My brother Charles

This record of my wanderings

in which he took so deep an interest,

is affectionately dedicated.

PREFACE

In a book of this kind it is often the custom to begin by making

apologies. In my case I feel it to be a sheer necessity. In the first

place what is here printed is for the greater part copied word for

word from private letters that I wrote in very simple language in

Dayak or Negrito huts, or in the lonely depths of tropical forests, in

the far-off islands of the Southern Seas. I purposely made my letters

home as concise as possible, so that they could be easily read, and in

consequence have left out much that might have been interesting. It is

almost unnecessary to mention that when I wrote these letters I had

no thought whatever of writing a book. If I had thought of doing so,

I might have mentioned more about the customs, ornaments and weapons of

the natives and have written about several other subjects in greater

detail. As it is, a cursory glance will show that this book has not

the slightest pretence of being "scientific." Far from its being

so, I have simply related a few of the more interesting incidents,

such as would give a _general impression_ of my life among savages,

during my wanderings in many parts of the world, extending over

nearly a score of years. I should like to have written more about

my wanderings in North Borneo, as well as in Samoa and Celebes and

various other countries, but the size of the book precludes this. My

excuse for publishing this book is that certain of my relatives

have begged me to do so. Though I was for the greater part of the

time adding to my own collections of birds and butterflies, I have

refrained as much as possible from writing on these subjects for

fear that they might prove tedious to the general reader. I have

also touched but lightly on the general customs of the people, as

this book is not for the naturalist or ethnologist, nor have I made

any special study of the languages concerned, but have simply jotted

down the native words here used exactly as I heard them. As regards

the photographs, some of them were taken by myself while others were

given me by friends whom I cannot now trace. In a few cases I have

no note from whom they were got, though I feel sure they were not

from anyone who would object to their publication. In particular,

I may mention Messrs. G. R. Lambert, Singapore; John Waters, Suva,

Fiji; Kerry & Co., Sydney; and G. O. Manning, New Guinea. To these

and all others who have helped me I now tender my heartiest thanks. I

have met with so much help and kindness during my wanderings from

Government officials and others that if I were here to mention all,

the list would be a large one. I shall therefore have to be content

with only mentioning the principal names of those in the countries

I have here written about.

In Fiji:--Messrs. Sutherland, John Waters, and McOwan.

In New Guinea:--Sir Francis Winter, Mr. C. A. W. Monckton, R.M., The

Hon. A. Musgrave, Capt. Barton, Mr. Guy O. Manning, and Dr. Vaughan.

In the Philippines:--Governor Taft, afterwards President of the United

States, and Mr. G. d'E. Browne.

In British North Borneo:--Messrs. H. Walker, Richardson, Paul Brietag,

F. Durége, J. H. Molyneux, and Dr. Davies.

In Sarawak:--H.H. The Rajah, Sir Charles Brooke, Sir Percy Cunninghame,

Dr. Hose, Archdeacon Sharpe, Mr. R. Shelford, and the officials of

The Borneo Company, Ltd.

To all of these and many others in other countries I take this

opportunity of publicly tendering my cordial thanks for their unfailing

kindness and hospitality to a wanderer in strange lands.

H. Wilfrid Walker.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

_Frontispiece_--Belles of Papua.

A Chief's Daughter and a Daughter of the People

A "Meke-Meke," or Fijian Girls' Dance

Interior of a large Fijian Hut

A Fijian Mountaineer's House

At the Door of a Fijian House

A Fijian Girl

Spearing Fish in Fiji

A Fijian Fisher Girl

A Posed Picture of an old-time Cannibal Feast in Fiji

Making Fire by Wood Friction

An Old ex-Cannibal

A Fijian War-Dance

Adi Cakobau (pronounced "Andi Thakombau"), the highest Princess

in Fiji, at her house at Navuso

A Filipino Dwelling

A Village Street in the Philippines

A River Scene in the Philippines

A Negrito Family

Negrito Girls (showing Shaved Head at back)

A Negrito Shooting

Tree Climbing by Negritos

A Negrito Dance

Arigita and his Wife

Three Cape Nelson Kaili-Kailis in War Attire

Kaili-Kaili House on the edge of a Precipice

"A Great Joke"

A Ghastly Relic

Cannibal Trophies

A Woman and her Baby

A Papuan Girl

The Author with Kaili-Kaili Followers

Wives of Native Armed Police

A Papuan Damsel

Busimaiwa, the great Mambare Chief, with his Wife and Son (in

the Police)

A Haunt of the Bird of Paradise

The Author starting on an Expedition

A New Guinea River Scene

Papuan Tree-Houses

A Village of the Agai Ambu

H. W. Walker, L. Dyke-Acland, and C. A. W. Monckton

View of Kuching from the Rajah's Garden

Dayaks and Canoes

Dayak in War-Coat

Dayak Women and Children on the Platform outside a long House

Dayaks Catching Fish

A Dayak Woman with Mourning Ornaments round waist

On a Tobacco Estate

On a Bornean River

PART I

Life in the Home of a Fijian Prince.

CHAPTER I

Life in the Home of a Fijian Prince.

Journey to Taviuni--Samoan Songs--Whistling for the Wind--Landing

on Koro--Nabuna--Samoans and Fijians Compared--Fijian Dances and

Angona Drinking--A Hurricane in the Southern Seas--Arrival at

Taviuni--First Impressions of Ratu Lala's Establishment--Character

of Ratu Lala--Prohibition of Cricket--Ratu Lala Offended--The

Prince's Musical Box.

Among all my wanderings in Fiji I think I may safely say that my

two months' stay with Ratu (Prince) Lala, on the island of Taviuni,

ranks highest both for interest and enjoyment. As I look back on my

life with this great Fijian prince and his people, it all somehow

seems unreal and an existence far apart from the commonplace life of

civilization. When I was in Suva (the capital) the colonial secretary

gave me a letter of introduction to Ratu Lala, and so one morning I

sailed from Suva on an Australian steamer, taking with me my jungle

outfit and a case of whisky, the latter a present for the Prince,--and

a more acceptable present one could not have given him.

After a smooth passage we arrived the same evening at Levuka, on

the island of Ovalau. After a stay of a day here, I sailed in a

small schooner which carried copra from several of the Outlying

islands to Levuka. Her name was the _Lurline,_ and her captain

was a Samoan, whilst his crew was made up of two Samoans and four

Fijians. The captain seemed to enjoy yelling at his men in the

Fijian language, with a strong flavouring of English "swear words,"

and spoke about the Fijians in terms of utter contempt, calling them

"d----d cannibals." The cabin wag a small one with only two bunks, and

swarmed with green beetles and cockroaches. Our meals were all taken

together on deck, and consisted of yams, ship's biscuit and salt junk.

We had a grand breeze to start with, but toward evening it died down

and we lay becalmed. All hands being idle, the Samoans spent the time

in singing the catchy songs of Samoa, most of which I was familiar with

from my long stay in those islands, and their delight was great when

I joined in. About midnight a large whale floated calmly alongside,

not forty yards from our little schooner, and we trembled to think what

would happen if it was at all inclined to be playful. We whistled all

the next day for a breeze, but our efforts were not a success until

toward evening, when we were rewarded in a very liberal manner, and

arrived after dark at the village of Cawa Lailai, [1] on the island

of Koro. On our landing quite a crowd of wild-looking men and women,

all clad only in sulus, met us on the beach. Although it is a large

island, there is only one white man on it, and he far away from here,

so no doubt I was an interesting object. I put up at the hut of the

"Buli" or village chief, and after eating a dish of smoking yams, I was

soon asleep, in spite of the mosquitoes. It dawned a lovely morning and

I was soon afoot to view my surroundings. It was a beautiful village,

surrounded by pretty woods on all sides, and I saw and heard plenty

of noisy crimson and green parrots everywhere. I also learnt that

a few days previously there had been a wholesale marriage ceremony,

when nearly all the young men and women had been joined in matrimony.

Taking a guide with me, I walked across the island till I came to the

village of Nabuna, [2] on the other coast, the _Lurline_ meanwhile

sailing around the island. It was a hard walk, up steep hills and down

narrow gorges, and then latterly along the coast beneath the shade

of the coconuts. Fijian bridges are bad things to cross, being long

trunks of trees smoothed off on the surface and sometimes very narrow,

and I generally had to negotiate them by sitting astride and working

myself along with my hands. In the village of Nabuna lived the wife

and four daughters of the Samoan captain. He told me he had had five

wives before, and when I asked if they were all dead, he replied that

they were still alive, but he had got rid of them as they were no good.

The daughters were all very pretty girls, especially the youngest, a

little girl of nine years old. I always think that the little Samoan

girls, with their long wavy black hair, are among the prettiest

children in the world.

We had an excellent supper of native oysters, freshwater prawns and

eels, fish, chicken, and many other native dishes. That evening

a big Fijian dance ("meke-meke"), was given in my honour. Two of

the captain's daughters took part in it. The girls sit down all the

time in a row, and wave their hands and arms about and sing in a low

key and in frightful discord. It does not in any way come up to the

very pretty "siva-siva" dancing of the Samoans, and the Fiji dance

lacks variety. There is a continual accompaniment of beating with

sticks on a piece of wood. All the girls decorate themselves with

coloured leaves, and their bodies, arms and legs glisten as in Samoa

with coconut-oil, really a very clean custom in these hot countries,

though it does not look prepossessing. Our two Samoans in the crew were

most amusing; they came in dressed up only in leaves, and took off

the Fijians to perfection with the addition of numerous extravagant

gestures. I laughed till my sides ached, but the Fijians never even

smiled. However, our Samoans gave them a bit of Samoan "siva-siva"

and plenty of Samoan songs, and it was amusing to see the interest

the Fijians took in them. It was, of course, all new to them. I drank

plenty of "angona," that evening. It is offered you in a different way

in Samoa. In Fiji, the man or girl, who hands you the coconut-shell

cup on bended knee, crouches at your feet till you have finished. In

Fijian villages a sort of crier or herald goes round the houses every

night crying the orders for the next day in a loud resonant voice, and

at once all talking ceases in the hut outside which he happens to be.

The next two days it blew a regular hurricane, and the captain dared

not venture out to sea, our schooner lying safely at anchor inside the

coral reef. I have not space to describe my stay here, but it proved

most enjoyable, and the captain's pretty Samoan daughters gave several

"meke-mekes" (Fijian dances) in my honour, and plenty of "angona"

was indulged in, and what with feasts, native games and first-class

fishing inside the coral reef, the time passed all too quickly. I

called on the "Buli" or village chief, with the captain. He was a

boy of fifteen, and seemed a very bashful youth.

We sailed again about five a.m. on the third morning, as the storm

seemed to be dying down and the captain was anxious to get on. We

had not gone far, however, before the gale increased in fury until it

turned into a regular hurricane. First our foresheet was carried away;

this was followed by our staysail, and things began to look serious,

in fact, most unpleasantly so. The captain almost seemed to lose his

head, and cursed loud and long. He declared that he had been a fool

to put out to sea before the storm had gone down, and the _Lurline,_

being an old boat, could not possibly last in such a storm, and

added that we should all be drowned. This was not pleasant news,

and as the cabin was already half-full of water, and we expected

each moment to be our last, I remained on deck for ten weary hours,

clinging like grim death to the ropes, while heavy seas dashed over

me, raking the little schooner fore and aft.

Toward evening, however, the wind subsided considerably, which enabled

us to get into the calm waters of the Somo-somo Channel between the

islands of Vanua Levu and Taviuni.

The wreckage was put to rights temporarily, the Samoans, who had

previously made up their minds that they were going to be drowned,

burst forth into their native songs, and we broke our long fast

of twenty-four hours, as we had eaten nothing since the previous

evening. It was an experience I am not likely to forget, as it was the

worst storm I have ever been in, if I except the terrible typhoon of

October, 1903, off Japan, when I was wrecked and treated as a Russian

spy. On this occasion a large Japanese fishing fleet was entirely

destroyed. I was, of course, soaked to the skin and got badly bruised,

and was once all but washed overboard, one of the Fijians catching

hold of me in the nick of time. We cast anchor for the night, though

we had only a few miles yet to go, but this short distance took us

eight or nine hours next day, as this channel is nearly always calm. We

had light variable breezes, and tacked repeatedly, but gained ground

slowly. These waters seemed full of large turtles, and we passed them

in great numbers. We overhauled a large schooner, and on hailing them,

the captain, a white man, came on deck. He would hardly believe that

we had been all through the storm. He said that he had escaped most of

it by getting inside the coral reef round Vanua Levu, but even during

the short time he had been out in the storm, he had had to throw the

greater part of his cargo overboard. From the way he spoke, he had

evidently been drinking, possibly trying to forget his lost cargo.

Before I left Fiji I heard that the _Lurline_ had gone to her last

berth. She was driven on to a coral reef in a bad storm off the coast

of Taviuni. The captain seemed to stand in much fear of Ratu Lala. He

told me many thrilling yarns about him; said he robbed his people

badly, and added that he did not think that I would get on well with

him, and would soon be anxious to leave.

I landed at the large village of Somo-somo, glad to be safely on _terra

firma_ once more. It was a pretty village, with a large mountain

torrent dashing over the rocks in the middle of it. The huts were

dotted about irregularly on a natural grass lawn, and large trees,

clumps of bamboo, coconuts, bread-fruit trees, and bright-coloured

"crotons" added a great deal to the picturesqueness of the village. At

the back the wooded hills towered up to a height of nearly 4,000 feet,

and white streaks amid the mountain woods showed where many a fine

waterfall tumbled over rocky precipices.

Ratu Lala lived in a wooden house, built for him (as "Roko" for

Taviuni), by the government, on the top of a hill overlooking the

village, and thither on landing I at once made my way. I found the

Prince slowly recovering from an attack of fever, and lying on a heap

of mats (which formed his bed) on the floor of his own private room,

which, however, greatly resembled an old curiosity shop. Everything

was in great disorder, and piles of London Graphics and other papers

littered the ground, and on the tables were piled indiscriminately

clocks, flasks, silver cups, fishing rods, guns, musical boxes, and

numerous other articles which I discovered later on were presents

from high officials and other Europeans, and which he did not know

what to do with. Nearly every window in the house had a pane of glass

[3] broken, the floors were devoid of mats or carpets, and in places

were rotten and full of holes. This will give some idea of the state

of chaos that reigned in the Prince's "palace."

Ratu Lala himself was a tall, broad-shouldered man of about forty, his

hair slightly grey, with a bristly moustache and a very long sloping

forehead. Though dignified, he wore an extremely fierce expression,

so much so that I instinctively felt his subjects had good cause to

treat him with the respect and fear that I had heard they gave him. He

belongs to the Fijian royal family, and though he does not rank as

high as his cousin, Ratu Kandavu Levu, whom I also visited at Bau,

he is infinitely more powerful, and owns more territory. His father

was evidently a "much married man" since Ratu Lala himself told me

that he had had "exactly three hundred wives." But in spite of this

he had been a man of prowess, as the Fijians count it, and I received

as a present from Ratu Lala a very heavy hardwood war-club that had

once belonged to his father, and which, he assured me, had killed a

great many people. Ratu Lala also told me that he himself had offered

to furnish one hundred warriors to help the British during the last

Egyptian war, but that the government had declined his offer. One of

the late Governors of Fiji, Sir John Thurston, was once his guardian

and, godfather. He was educated for two years in Sydney, Australia,

and spoke English well, though in a very thick voice. Not only does

he hold sway over the island of Taviuni, but also over some smaller

islands and part of the large island of Vanua Levu. He also holds

the rank of "Roko" from the government, for which he is well paid.

After reading my letter of introduction he asked me to stay as long

as I liked, and he called his head servant and told him to find me

a room. This servant's name was Tolu, and as he spoke English fairly

well, I soon learned a great deal about Ratu Lala and his people.

Ratu Lala was married to a very high-caste lady who was closely related

to the King of Tonga, and several of whose relatives accompanied us

on our expeditions. By her he had two small children named Tersi (boy)

and Moe (girl), both of whom, during my stay (as will hereafter appear)

were sent to school at Suva, amid great lamentations on the part of

the women of Ratu Lala's household. Two months before my visit Ratu

Lala had lost his eldest daughter (by his Tongan wife). She was twelve

years old, and a favourite of his, and her grave was on a bluff below

the house, under a kind of tent, hung round with fluttering pieces

of "tapa" cloth. Spread over it was a kind of gravel of bright green

Stones which he had had brought from a long distance. Little Moe and

Tersi were always very interested in watching me skin my birds, and

their exclamation of what sounded like "Esa!" ("Oh look!") showed their

enjoyment. They were two of the prettiest little children I think I

have ever seen, but they did not know a word of English, and called me

"Misi Walk." They and their mother always took their meals sitting on

mats in the verandah. Ratu Lala had two grown-up daughters by other

wives, but they never came to the house, living in an adjoining hut

where I often joined them at a game of cards. They were both very

stately and beautiful young women, with a haughty bearing which made

me imagine that they were filled with a sense of their own importance.

As is well known all over Fiji, Ratu Lala, a few years before my stay

with him, had been deported in disgrace for a term of several months,

to the island of Viti Levu, where he would be under the paternal eye

of the government. This was because he had punished a woman, who had

offended him, by pegging her down on an ants' nest, first smearing

her all over with honey, so that the ants would the more readily eat

her. [4] She recovered afterwards, but was badly eaten. As regards

his punishment, he told me that he greatly enjoyed his exile, as he

had splendid fishing, and some of the white people sent him champagne.

His people were terribly afraid of him, and whenever they passed him

as he sat on his verandah, they would almost go down on all fours. He

told me how on one occasion when he was sitting on the upper verandah

of the Club Hotel in Suva with two of his servants squatting near by,

the whisky he had drunk had made him feel so sleepy, that he nearly

fell into the street below, but his servants dared not lay hands on him

to pull him back into safety, as his body was considered sacred by his

people, and they dared not touch him. He declared to me that he would

have been killed if a white man had not arrived just in time. He was

very fond of telling me this story, and always laughed heartily over

it. I noticed that Ratu Lala's servants treated me with a great deal

of respect, and whenever they passed me in the house they would walk

in a crouching attitude, with their heads almost touching the ground.

Ratu Lala's cousin, Ratu Kandavu Levu, is a very enthusiastic

cricketer, and has a very good cricket club with a pavilion at his

island of Bau. He plays many matches against the white club in Suva,

and only last year he took an eleven over to Australia to tour that

country. I learned that previous to my visit he had paid a visit

to Ratu Lala, and while there had got up a match at Somo-somo in

which he induced Ratu Lala to play, but on Ratu Lala being given

out first ball for nought, he (Ratu Lala) pulled up the stumps and

carried them off the ground, and henceforth forbade any of his people

to play the game on the island of Taviuni. I was not aware of this,

and as I had brought a bat and ball with me, I got up several games

shortly after my arrival. However, one evening all refused to play,

but gave no reasons for their refusal, but Tolu told me that his

master did not like to have them play. Then I learned the reason, and

from that time I noticed a decided coolness on the part of Ratu Lala

toward me. The fact, no doubt, is that Ratu Lala being exceptionally

keen on sport, this very keenness made him impatient of defeat, or

even of any question as to a possible want of success on his part,

as I afterwards learnt on our expedition to Ngamia.

I intended upon leaving Taviuni to return to Levuka, and from thence

go by cutter to the island of Vanua Levu, and journey up the Wainunu

River, plans which I ultimately carried out. Ratu Lala, however,

wished me to proceed in his boat straight across to the island of

Vanua Levu, and walk across a long stretch of very rough country to

the Wainunu River. My only objection was that I had a large and heavy

box, which I told Ratu Lala I thought was too large to be carried

across country. He at once flew into a violent passion and declared

that I spoke as if I considered he was no prince. "For," said he,

"if ten of my subjects cannot carry your box I command one hundred

to do so, and if one hundred of my subjects cannot carry your box

I tell fifteen thousand of my subjects to do so." When I tried to

picture fifteen thousand Fijians carrying my wretched box, it was

altogether too much for my sense of humour, and I burst forth into

a hearty roar of laughter, which so incensed the Prince that he shut

himself up in his own room during the few remaining days of my stay.

He had a musical box, which he was very fond of, and he had a man to

keep it going at all hours of the day and night. It played four tunes,

among them "The Village Blacksmith," "Strolling 'Round the Town," and

"Who'll Buy my Herrings" till at times they nearly drove me frantic,

especially when I wanted to write or sleep. Night after night the

tunes followed each other in regular routine till I thought I should

get them on the brain. How he could stand it was a puzzle to me,

especially as he had possessed it for many years. I often blessed

the European who gave it him, and wished he could take my place.

Whenever a man wished to speak to Ratu Lala he would crouch at his

feet and softly clap his hands, and sometimes Ratu Lala would wait

several minutes before he deigned to notice him.

CHAPTER II

My Further Adventures with Ratu Lala.

Fijian Huts--Abundance of Game and Fish--Methods of Capture--A

Fijian Practical Joke--Fijian Feasts--Fun after Dinner--A Court

Jester in Fiji--Drinking, Dress, and Methods of Mourning--A

Bride's Ringlets--Expedition to Vuna--Tersi and Moe Journey to

School--Their Love of Sweets--Rough Reception of Visitors to

Vuna--Wonderful Fish Caught--Exhibition of Surf-board Swimming by

Women--Impressive Midnight Row back to Taviuni--A Fijian Farewell.

In comparison with Samoan huts, the Fijian huts were very comfortable,

though they are not half as airy, Samoan huts being very open; but in

most of the Fijian huts I visited the only openings were the doors,

and, as can be imagined, the interior was rather dark and gloomy. In

shape they greatly resembled a haystack, the sides being composed of

grass or bunches of leaves, more often the latter. They are generally

built on a platform of rocks, with doors upon two or more sides,

according to the size of the hut; and a sloping sort of rough plank

with notches on it leads from the ground to each door. In the interior,

the sides of the walls are often beautifully lined with the stems of

reeds, fashioned very neatly, and in some cases in really artistic

patterns, and tied together with thin ropes of coconut fibre, dyed

various colours, and often ornamented with rows of large white cowry

shells. The floor of these huts is much like a springy mattress,

being packed to a depth of several feet with palm and other leaves,

and on the top are strips of native mats permanently fastened, whereas

in Samoa the floor is made up of small pieces of brittle white coral,

over which are loose mats, which can be moved at will. In Fijian

huts there is always a sort of raised platform at one end of the hut,

on which are piles of the best native mats, and, being the guest, I

generally got this to myself. The roof inside is very finely thatched,

the beams being of "Niu sau," a native palm, [5] the cross-pieces and

main supports being enormous bits of hard wood. The smaller supports of

the sides are generally the trunks of tree-ferns. The doors in most of

the huts are a strip of native matting or fantastically-painted "tapa"

cloth, fastened to two posts a few feet inside the hut. In some huts

there are small openings in the walls which answer for windows. The

hearth was generally near one of the doors in the centre of the hut,

and fire was produced by rubbing a piece of hard wood on a larger

piece of soft wood, and working it up and down in a groove till a

spark was produced. I have myself successfully employed this method

when out shooting green pigeon ("rupe") in the mountains.

With regard to food, I at first fared very well, although we had our

meals at all hours, as Ratu Lala was very irregular in his habits. Our

chief food was turtle. We had it so often that I soon loathed the

taste of it. The turtles, when brought up from the sea were laid

on their backs under a tree close by the house, and there the poor

brutes were left for days together. Ratu Lala's men often brought in

a live wild pig, which they captured with the aid of their dogs. At

other times they would run them down and spear them; this was hard

and exciting work, as I myself found on several occasions that I went

pig hunting. One of the most remarkable things that I saw in Taviuni,

from a sporting point of view, was the heart of a wild pig, which,

when killed, was found to have lived with the broken point of a

wooden spear fully four inches in length buried in the very centre

of its heart. It had evidently lived for many years afterwards,

and a curious kind of growth had formed round the point.

As for other game, every time I went out in the mountain woods I had

splendid sport with the wild chickens or jungle fowl and pigeons,

and I would often return with my guide bearing a long pole loaded

at both ends with the birds I had shot. The pigeons, which were

large birds, settled on the tops of the tallest trees and made a

very peculiar kind of growling noise. Many years ago (as Ratu Lala

told me) the natives of Taviuni had been in the habit of catching

great quantities of pigeons by means of large nets suspended from

the trees. The chickens would generally get up like a pheasant,

and it was good sport taking a snap shot at an old cock bird on

the wing. It was curious to hear them crowing away in the depths of

the forest, and at first I kept imagining that I was close to some

village. I also obtained some good duck shooting on a lake high up in

the mountains, and Ratu Lala described to me what must be a species

of apteryx, or wingless bird (like the Kiwi of New Zealand), which

he said was found in the mountains and lived in holes in the ground,

but I never came across it, though I had many a weary search. Ratu

Lala also assured me that the wild chickens were indigenous in Fiji,

and were not descended from the domestic fowl. We had plenty of fish,

both salt and fresh water, and the mountain streams were full of

large fish, which Ratu Lala, who is a keen fisherman, caught with

the fly or grasshoppers. He sometimes caught over one hundred in

a day, some of them over three pounds in weight. The streams were

also full of huge eels and large prawns, and a kind of oyster was

abundant in the sea, so what with wild pig, wild chickens, pigeons,

turtles, oysters, prawns, crabs, eels, and fish of infinite variety,

we fared exceedingly well. Oranges, lemons, limes, large shaddocks,

"kavika," and other wild fruits were plentiful everywhere.

During my stay here in August and September the climate was delightful,

and it was remarkably cool for the tropics. I often accompanied Ratu

Lala on his fishing excursions, and he would often recount to me

many of his escapades. On one occasion he told me that he had put

a fish-hook through the lip of his jester, a little old man of the

name of Stivani, and played him about with rod and reel like a fish,

and had made him swim about in the water until he had tired him out,

and then he added, "I landed the finest fish I ever got."

I added a good many interesting birds to my collection during my stay

here, among them a dove of intense orange colour, one of the most

striking birds I have ever seen. Plant life here was exceedingly

beautiful and interesting, especially high up in the mountains,

palms, _pandanus,_ cycads, crotons, _acalyphas, loranths,_ aroids,

_freycinetias,_ ferns and orchids being strongly represented, and

among the latter may be mentioned a fine orange _dendrobium_ and a pink

_calanthe._ I found in flower a celebrated creeper, which Ratu Lala had

told me to look out for. It had very showy red, white and blue flowers,

and in the old days Ratu Lala told me that the Tongan people would

come over in their canoes all the way from the Tonga Islands, nearly

four hundred miles away, simply to get this flower for their dances,

and when gathered, it would last a very long time without fading. I

tried to learn the traditions about this flower, but Ratu Lala either

did not know of any or else he was not anxious to tell me about them.

The coastal natives, like most South Sea Islanders, were splendid

swimmers, but, so far as I was concerned, it was dangerous work bathing

in the sea here, as man-eating sharks were very numerous, and during my

stay I saw a Fijian carried ashore with both his legs bitten clean off.

Usually, when out on expeditions, we occupied the "Buli's" hut and

lived on the fat of the land. At meal times quite a procession of men

and women, glistening all over with coconut oil, would enter our hut

bearing all sorts of native food, including fish in great variety,

yams, octopus, turtle, sucking-pig, chicken, prawns, etc. They were

brought in on banana and other large leaves, and we, of course, ate

them with our fingers. Good as the food undoubtedly was, I was always

glad when the meal was over, as it is very far from comfortable to

sit with your legs doubled up under you. Afterwards I could hardly

stand up straight, owing to cramp. I found it especially trying in

Samoa, where one had to sit in this manner for hours during feasts,

"kava"-drinking and "siva-sivas" (dances). Sometimes a glistening

damsel would fan us with a large fan made out of the leaf of a fan

palm, [6] which at times got rather in the way. I never got waited

on better in my life. Directly I had finished one course a dozen

girls were ready to hand me other dishes, and when I wanted a drink

a girl immediately handed me a cup made out of the half-shell of a

coconut filled with a kind of soup. We generally had an audience of

fully fifty people, and when we had finished eating, a wooden bowl of

water was handed to us in which to wash our hands. Ratu Lala would

generally hand the bowl to me first, and I would wash my hands in

silence, but directly he started to wash his hands, everyone present,

including chiefs and attendants, would start clapping their hands

in even time, then one man would utter a deep and prolonged "Ah-h,"

when the crowd would all shout together what sounded like "Ai on

dwah," followed by more even clapping. I never learned what the

words meant. In this respect Ratu Lala was most curiously secretive,

and always evaded questions. Whenever he took a drink, a clapping of

hands made me aware of the fact.

One day, when they had chanted after a meal as usual, Ratu Lala turned

around to me and mimicked the way his jester or clown repeated it,

and there was a general laugh. This jester, whose name was Stivani,

was a little old man who was also jester to Ratu Lala's father. Ratu

Lala had given him the nickname of "Punch," and made him do all sorts

of ridiculous things--sing and dance and go through various contortions

dressed up in bunches of "croton" leaves. He kept us all much amused,

and was the life and soul of our party, but at times I caught the old

fellow looking very weary and sad, as if he was tired of his office

as jester.

The "angona" root (_Piper methysticum_) is first generally pounded,

but is sometimes grated, and more rarely chewed by young maidens. It

is then mixed with water in a large wooden bowl, and the remains of

the root drawn out with a bunch of fibrous material. It is then ready

for drinking.

On gala and festal occasions the Fijians were wonderfully and

fantastically dressed up, their huge heads of hair thickly covered with

a red or yellow powder, and they themselves wearing large skirts or

"sulus" of coloured "tapa" and _pandanus_ ribbons and necklaces of

coloured seeds, shells, and pigs'-tusks. In out-of-the-way parts the

"sulus" are still made of "tapa" cloth, and the women sometimes wear

small fibrous aprons. They also often wear wild pigs'-tusks round

their necks.

I noticed that many Fijian women were tattooed on the hands and arms,

and at each corner of the mouth (a deep blue colour). Both men and

women gave themselves severe wounds about the body, generally as a sign

of grief on the death of some near relative. I once noticed a young

girl of sixteen or seventeen with a very bad unhealed wound below

one of her breasts, which was self-inflicted. Her father, a chief,

had died only a short time previously. They often also cut off the

little finger for similar reasons. Like the Samoans, the Fijians often

cover their hair with white lime, and the effect of the sun bleaches

the hair and changes it from black to a light gold or brown colour.

A marriageable young lady in Fiji would generally have a great

quantity of long braided ringlets hanging down on _one_ side of her

head. This looked odd, considering that the rest of her hair was

erect or frizzly. It was a great insult to have these ringlets cut. I

heard of it once being done by a white planter, and great trouble

and fighting were the result.

I accompanied Ratu Lala on several expeditions to various parts

of the island, and we also visited several smaller islands within

his dominions. On these occasions we always took possession of the

"Buli's," or village chief's, hut, turning him out, and feeding on

all the delicacies the village could produce. After we had practically

eaten them out of house and home we would move on and take possession

of another village. The inhabitants did not seem to mind this; in fact,

they seemed to enjoy our visit, as it was an excuse for big feasts,

"meke-mekes" (dances) and "angona" drinking.

One of the most enjoyable expeditions that I made with Ratu Lala

was to Vuna, about twenty miles away to the south. A small steamer,

the _Kia Ora,_ which made periodical visits to the island to collect

the government taxes in copra, arrived one day in the bay. Ratu Lala

thought this would be a good opportunity for us to make a fishing

expedition to Vuna. We went on board the steamer while our large boat

was towed behind.

At the same time Ratu Lala's two little children, Moe and Tersi,

started off, in charge of Ratu Lala's Tongan wife and other women,

to be educated in Suva. It was the first time they had ever left home,

but I agreed with Ratu Lala, that it was time they went, as they did

not know a word of English, and, for the matter of that, neither did

his Tongan wife. When we all arrived at the beach to get into the

boat, we found a large crowd, chiefly women, sitting on the ground,

and as Ratu Lala walked past them, they greeted him with a kind of

salutation which they chanted as with one voice. I several times

asked him what it meant, but he always evaded the question somehow,

and seemed too modest to tell me. I came to the conclusion that it

ran something like "Hail, most noble prince, live for ever." The

next minute all the women started to howl as if at a given signal,

and they looked pictures of misery. Several of them waded out into

the sea and embraced little Tersi and Moe. This soon set the children

crying as well, so that I almost began to fear that the combined tears

would sink our boat. Their old grandmother waded out into the sea

up to her neck and stayed there, and we could hear her howling long

after we had got on board the steamer. When we got into Ratu Lala's

boat at Vuna there was another very affecting farewell. Some months

later when I returned to Suva, I asked a young chief, Ratu Pope,

to show me where they were at school, and I found them at a small

kindergarten for the children of the Europeans in Suva.

They seemed quite glad to see their old friend again, and still more

so when I promised to bring them some lollies (the term used for

sweets in Australasia) that afternoon.

When I returned I witnessed a pretty and interesting sight The two

little children were standing out in the school yard while several

Fijian men and women of noble families who had been paying the little

prince and princess a visit, were just taking their leave. It was a

curious sight to see these old people go in turn up to these two little

mites and go down on their knees and kiss their little hands reverently

in silence. All this homage seemed to bore the small high-born ones,

and hardly was the ceremony over when they caught sight of me, and,

rushing toward me with cries of "Misi Walk siandra, lollies," they

nearly knocked over some of their visitors, who no doubt were greatly

scandalized at such undignified behaviour.

To return to our visit to Vuna. Sometime previously, Ratu Lala had

warned me that whenever he landed at this place with a visitor it

was an old custom for the women to catch the visitor and throw him

into the sea from the top of a small rocky cliff. To this I raised

serious objections, but arrayed myself in very old thin clothes

ready for the fray. However, upon landing, very much on the alert,

I was agreeably surprised to find that the women left me alone. Yet in

part Ratu Lala's story was true, as he assured me that quite recently

he had been forced to put a stop to the custom, as one of his last

visitors was a European of much importance who was greatly incensed

at such treatment, and complained to the government, who told Ratu

Lala that the custom must end.

We came to fish, and fish we did, just off the coral reef, but

it would take space to describe even one-half of the curious and

beautiful fish we caught. When I took the lead in the number of

fish caught, Ratu Lala seemed greatly annoyed, and I was not sorry

to let him get ahead, when he was soon in a good temper again. The

Fijians generally fished with nets and a many-pronged fish-spear,

with which they are very expert, and I saw them do wonderful work

with them. They also used long wicker-work traps. Ratu Lala, on the

contrary, being half-civilized, used an English rod and reel or line

like a white man. Ratu Lala told the women here to give an exhibition

of surf-board swimming for my benefit. As they rode into shore on the

crest of a wave I many times expected to see them dashed against the

rocks which fringed the coast. I had seen the natives in Hawaii perform

seventeen years before, but it was tame in comparison to the wonderful

performances of these Fijian women on this dangerous rock-girt coast.

A great many "meke-mekes" or dances were got up in our honour, but Ratu

Lala detested them, and rarely attended, but preferred staying in the

"Buli's" hut, lying on the floor smoking or sleeping. He, however,

always begged me to attend them in his place. After a time I found the

performances rather wearisome, and not nearly so varied and interesting

as the "siva-sivas" in Samoa. There the girls sang in soft, pleasing

voices, the words being full of liquid vowels. Here in Fiji the singing

was harsh and discordant, as k's and r's abound in the language.

When it came to the ceremony of drinking "angona" I worthily did

my part of the performance. Drinking "angona" is a taste not easily

acquired, but when one has once got used to it, there is not a more

refreshing drink, and I speak from long experience. In Fiji I was

often presented with a large "angona" root, but it would be considered

exceedingly bad form did you not return it to the giver and tell him

to have it at once prepared for himself and his people, you yourself,

of course, taking part in the drinking ceremony.

After a stay of several days at Vuna we rowed back by night. It was

a perfect, calm night, and with the full moon, was almost as bright

as day. We rowed all the way close to shore, passing under the gloomy

shade of dense forests or by countless coconuts, the only sound besides

the plash of our oars being the cry of water fowl or some night bird,

while the light beetles [7] flashed their green lights against the

dark background of the forest, looking much like falling stars. There

are certain moments in life that have made a lasting impression on me,

and that moonlight row was one of them.

We made several expeditions together that were every bit as interesting

and enjoyable as the one to Vuna. On one occasion we visited the north

part of the island, as well as Ngamia and other islands. We rowed

nearly all the way close into shore and saw plenty of turtles. Ratu

Lala started to troll with live bait, as we had come across several

women fishing with nets, and on our approach they chanted out a

greeting to Ratu Lala, and in return he helped himself to a lot of

their fish. Ratu Lala had fully a dozen large fish after his bait,

and some he hooked for a few seconds. This only made him the keener,

and after leaving the calm Somo-somo Channel, although we encountered

a very rough sea, he had the sail hoisted and we travelled at a great

rate in and out amongst a lot of rocky islets, shipping any amount of

water which soaked us and our baggage, and half-filled the boat. I

expected we should be swamped every moment, and from the frightened

looks of our crew I knew they expected the same thing. Hence, I was

not reassured when Ratu Lala remarked that it was in just such a sea,

and in the same place, that he lost his schooner (which the government

had given him) and that on that occasion he and all his crew remained

in the water for five hours. When I explained that I had no wish to be

upset, he said, "I suppose you can swim?" I said "Yes! but I do not

wish to lose my gun and other property," to which he replied, "Well,

I lost more than that when my schooner went down." I was therefore

not a little relieved when he had the sail lowered. He explained that

he never liked being beaten, even if he drowned us all, and all this

was because I had bet him one shilling (by his own desire) that he

would not get a fish. I mention this to show what foolhardy things

he was capable of doing, never thinking of the consequences. I could

mention many such cases. We at length came to some shallows between

a lot of small and most picturesque islands, and as it was low tide,

and we could not pass, we, viz., Ratu Lala, myself, and the other

chiefs, got out to walk, leaving the boat and crew to come on when

they could (they arrived at 4 a.m. the next morning). I was glad to

get an opportunity to dry myself, and we started off at a good rate

for our destination, but unfortunately we came to a spot where grew

a small weed that the Fijians consider a great luxury when cooked,

and Ratu Lala and his people stayed here fully two hours, till they

had picked all the weed in sight, in spite of the heavy rain. It

was amusing to see all these high-caste Fijians and old Stivani, the

jester, running to and fro with yells of delight like so many children,

all on account of a weed which I myself afterwards failed to enjoy.

On the way I shot three duck, and later, when it was too dark to shoot,

we could see the beach between the mangroves and the sea was almost

black with them. On the other side of us there was a regular chorus of

wild chickens crowing and pigeons "howling" in the woods. After four

hours' hard walking we arrived at our destination, Qelani, long after

dark, dead tired, and soaked to the skin. We put up at the "Buli's"

hut; he was a cousin of Ratu Lala, and was a hideous and sulky-looking

fellow, but his hut was one of the finest and neatest I had seen in

Fiji. As I literally had not had a mouthful of food since the previous

evening, I was glad when about a dozen women entered bearing banana

leaves covered with yams, fish, octopus, chickens, etc. We stayed here

some days, but we had miserable, wet weather. There was excellent

fishing in the stream here, and Ratu Lala especially had very good

sport. Many of the fish averaged one-and-a-half pounds and more, but

he told me that they often run to five pounds. There were three kinds,

and all excellent eating. The commonest was a beautiful silvery fish,

and another was of a golden colour with bright red stripes. During the

latter part of my stay in Qelani I suffered from a slight attack of

dysentery, and it was dull lying ill on the floor of a native hut with

no one to talk to, as Ratu Lala always tried to avoid speaking English

whenever possible, and would often only reply in monosyllables. It

would often seem as if he were annoyed at something, but I found that

he did this to all white men, and meant nothing by it. I soon cured

myself by eating a lot of raw leaves of some bush plant, also a great

quantity of native arrow-root.

In spite of my sickness I managed to shoot a fair number of duck,

wild chickens and pigeon, and also a few birds for my collection. One

day, in spite of the rain, I was rowed over to Ngamia, which is

a wonderfully beautiful island, about three hours from Qelani. It

was thickly covered with a fine cycad which grows amongst the rocks

overhanging the sea. The natives call it "loga-loga," [8] and eat the

fruit. I landed and botanized a bit, finding some new and interesting

plants, and then rowed on a few miles to call on the only white man

on the island, an Australian named Mitchell, who has a large coconut

property. He was astonished and pleased to see me, and introduced me

to his Fijian wife, and his two pretty half-caste daughters soon got

together a good breakfast for me. He seemed glad to see a white man

again, and nearly talked my head off, and was full of anecdotes about

the fighting they had with the Fijian cannibals in 1876. He told me

that in the last great hurricane his house was blown over on to a

small island which he owned nearly half-a-mile away.

To describe all the incidents of my long visit would fill a book,

but I think I have written enough to show what a very interesting

time I spent with this Fijian Prince. It was without doubt one of

the most curious experiences of all my travels in different parts

of the globe. With all his faults, Ratu Lala was a good fellow, and

he certainly was a sportsman. All Fiji knows his failings, otherwise

I should not have alluded to them. The old blood of the Fijians ran

in his veins, his ancestors were kings who had been used to command

and to tyrannise; therefore he could never see any harm in the many

stories of his escapades that he told me, and he seemed much offended

and surprised when I advised him not to talk about them to other

Europeans. When I started off to Levuka I was greatly surprised to

see all the women of Somo-somo sitting on the beach waiting to see me

depart, and as I walked down alone they greeted me in much the same

way as they often greeted Ratu Lala, in a kind of chanting shout that

sounded most effective. It was a Fijian farewell!

PART II

Among Ex-Cannibals in Fiji.

CHAPTER III

Among Ex-Cannibals in Fiji.

Journey into the Interior of Great Fiji--A Guide Secured--The

Start--Arrival at Navua--Extraction of Sago--Grandeur of

Scenery--A Man covered with Monkey-like Hair--A Strangely Coloured

Parrot--Wild Lemon and Shaddock Trees--A Tropical "Yosemite

Valley"--Handclapping as a Native Form of Salute--Beauty of

Namosi--The Visitor inspected by ex-Cannibals--Reversion to

Cannibalism only prevented by fear of the Government--A Man who

would like to Eat my Parrot "and the White Man too"--The Scene

of Former Cannibal Feasts--Revolting Accounts of Cannibalism as

Formerly Practised--Sporadic Cases in Recent Years--An Instance

of Unconscious Cannibalism by a White--Reception at Villages _en

route_--Masirewa Upset--Descent of Rapids--Dramatic Arrival at

Natondre ("Fallen from the Skies").

Toward the end of my stay in the Fijian Islands I determined to make

a journey far into the interior of Viti Levu (Great Fiji), the largest

island of the great Fijian archipelago. Suva, the chief town in Fiji,

and the headquarters of the government, is on this island, but very few

Europeans travel far beyond the coast, and my friends in Suva declared

that I would have a fit of repentance before I had travelled very far,

as the interior of the island is extremely mountainous and rough. After

a great deal of trouble I managed to get an interpreter named Masirewa,

who came from the small island of Bau. He was a fine-looking fellow,

and, like most Fijians, possessed a tremendous mop of hair. His stock

of English was limited, and we often misunderstood each other, but he

proved a most amusing companion, if only on account of his unlimited

"cheek."

I ought here to mention that Fijians vary a great deal, both in colour

and language. Fiji is the part of the Pacific where various types meet,

viz., Papuan, Malayan, and Polynesian. The mountaineers around Namosi,

which I visited, who were all cannibals twenty-five years ago, are

much darker in colour than the coast natives, and they are undoubtedly

of Papuan origin.

I left Suva with Masirewa on the morning of October 12th, and after

a short sea voyage of three or four hours on a small steam launch,

we arrived at the village of Navua. I had a letter to Mr. McOwan,

the government commissioner for that district. He put me up for the

night, and we played several games of tennis, and my stay, though

short, was an exceedingly pleasant one. The whites in Fiji are the

most hospitable people in the world. They are of the old _régime_

that is dying out fast everywhere.

The next day I set out on my journey into the interior, Masirewa and

another Fijian carrying my baggage (which was wrapped up in waterproof

cloth) on a long bamboo pole. We followed the course of the Navua River

for some distance. In the swamps bordering the river grew quantities

of a variety of sago palm (_Sagus vitiensis_) called by the natives

Songo. They extract the sago from the trunk, and the palm always dies

after flowering. After passing through about four miles of sugar cane,

with small villages of the Indian coolies who work in the cane fields,

we left behind us the last traces of civilization. We next came to

a very beautiful bit of hilly country, densely wooded on the hills,

though bordering the broad gravelly beaches of the river were long

stretches of beautiful grassy pastures. Darkness set in as we ascended

some thickly wooded hills. The atmosphere was damp and close, and

mosquitoes plentiful, and small phosphorescent lumps seemed to wink at

us out of the darkness on every side. I had to strike plenty of matches

to discover the track, and continually bumped myself against boulders

and the trunks of tree-ferns. It was late when we arrived at the

village of Nakavu, on the banks of the Navua River, where I was soon

asleep on a pile of mats in the hut of the "Buli," or village chief.

The next morning I resumed my journey with Masirewa and two canoe-men

in a canoe, and we were punted and hauled over numerous dangerous

rapids, at some of which I had to get out. We passed between two

steep, rocky cliffs the whole way, and they were densely clothed

with tree-ferns and other rank tropical vegetation, the large white

sweet-scented _datura_ being very plentiful. The scenery was very

beautiful, and numerous waterfalls dashed over the rocky walls with

a sullen roar. Ducks were plentiful, but my ammunition being limited,

I shot only enough to supply us with food. I felt cramped sitting in

a canoe all day, but I enjoyed myself in spite of the continuous and

heavy rain.

Late in the afternoon we arrived at the small village of Namuamua,

on the right bank of the river, with the village of Beka on the

other side. We were given a small hut all to ourselves, and we fared

sumptuously on duck and boiled yams. The next morning I was shown

a curious but ghastly object, viz., a man covered with hair like a

monkey, and I was told that he had never been able to walk. He dragged

himself about on his hands and feet, uttering groans and grunts like

an animal.

I hired two fresh bearers to carry my baggage, and after we had

crossed the river three or four times we passed over some steep and

slippery hills for some distance. I managed to shoot a parrot that I

had not seen on any of the other islands. It was green, with a black

head and yellow breast. The rain came down in torrents, and I got

well soaked. We went for miles through woods with small timber, but

full of bright crotons, _dracænas,_ bamboos, and a very sweetscented

plant somewhat resembling the frangipani, the flower of which covered

the ground. We passed under the shade of sweet-scented wild lemon

and shaddock trees, but we got the bad with the good, as a horrible

stench came from a small green flowering bush. A beautiful pink and

white ground orchid (_Calanthe_) was plentiful.

We travelled along a steep, narrow strip of land with a river on

each side in the valleys below. We met no one until we arrived at

the village of Koro Wai-Wai, which is situated on the banks of a

good-sized river at the entrance to a magnificent gorge of rocky peaks

and precipices. Here we found the "Buli" of Namosi squatting down

in a miserable, smoky hut where we rested for a few minutes, and the

hut was soon filled with a crowd of natives, all anxious to view the

"papalangi" (foreigner). The "Buli" agreed to accompany me to Namosi,

although his home was in another village. Continuing our journey,

we had hard work climbing over boulders, and along slippery ledges

overhanging the foaming river many feet below. Steep precipices rose on

each side of us, and the gorge grew more narrow as we proceeded. The

scenery was grand, and rather resembled the Yosemite Valley, but had

the additional attraction of a wealth of tropical foliage. Steep rocky

spires topped by misty clouds towered above us and little openings

between rocky walls revealed dark green lanes or vistas of tangled

tropical growth which the sun never reached. We met many natives,

who sat on their haunches when the "Buli" talked to them, and clapped

their hands as we passed. This was out of respect for the "Buli,"

who was an insignificant looking little bearded man and quite naked

except for a small "Sulu."

We soon arrived at Namosi. It is a large town situated between two

steep walls of rock, and was by far the prettiest place I had seen

in Fiji, and that is saying a good deal. The town is on both banks

of the Waiandina River, with large "ivi" and other beautiful trees

overhanging the water; brilliant coloured crotons, _dracænas,_

and other fine plants imparted a wealth of colour to the scene,

and many of the grand old trees were heavily laden with ferns and

orchids. During many years' wanderings all the world over, I do not

think I have ever come across a more beautiful and ideal spot.

The "Buli" was greeted with cries of "m-m-ka-a" in shrill voices by the

women, for all the world like the caw of an old crow. I learned that

the "Buli" had not been here for some time, but I seemed to be the

chief object of interest, and was followed everywhere by an admiring

and curious crowd of dark brown, shiny boys and girls, the former just

as they were born and the latter wearing a strip of "Sulu." We put up

in a chief's house, and after getting through the usual boiled yams,

I went on a tour of inspection around the town, but I soon found that I

was the one to be inspected. There was a hum of voices in every hut,

and doorways were darkened with many heads. Groups of young men,

women and children assembled to see the sight, but scampered away

if I approached too near. No white man but the government agent had

been here for several years, I was told. Thirty-odd years ago they

would not have been satisfied to "look only," but would have wished

to taste, and many of the present inhabitants would have made chops

of me, and were no doubt peering out of their huts to see if I was

fat or lean, and wishing for days gone by but not forgotten. Isolated

cases of cannibalism still occur in out-of-the-way parts of Fiji, and

it is only fear of the government that stops them, otherwise these

mountaineers would at once return to cannibalism. Masirewa came out

and stood with folded arms among a large crowd talking about me, and no

doubt taking all the credit for my appearance, and staring at me as if

he had never seen me before, so that I felt much inclined to kick him.

In the evening, as I skinned the parrot I had shot, Masirewa told

me how one man had said that he would like to eat the parrot, and

that he had replied: "And the white man too." There was a large and

very interested crowd around me as I worked, and they were very much

astonished when told that the birds in England were different from

those in Fiji, and I was inundated with childish questions about

England. Masirewa seemed to be trying to pass himself off on these

simple mountaineers as a chief, and was clearly beginning to give

himself airs, so that when he started to eat with the "Buli" and

myself, I had to snub him, and told him sharply to clean my gun and

eat afterwards.

I slept the next morning till seven o'clock, and Masirewa told me that

the natives could not understand my sleeping so late, and that they

thought I was drunk on "angona," of which I had partaken the night

before. "Angona" is the same as "kava" in Samoa, and is the national

beverage in Fiji. Masirewa now only wore a "sulu" and discarded his

singlet. I suppose it was a case of "In Rome do as Rome does," but

he certainly looked better in the dark skin he wore at his birth. I

was shown the large rock by the river where more than a thousand

people had been killed for their cannibal feasts. They were usually

prisoners captured in the Rewa district, also a few white men. They

were cut open alive and their hearts torn out, and their bodies were

then cut up for cooking on the rock, which I noticed was worn quite

smooth. Sometimes they would boil a man alive in a huge cauldron.

While staying at Namosi the "Buli" gave me some lessons in throwing

native spears, and in using the bow. Whilst practising the latter I

narrowly missed, by a few inches, shooting a woman who stepped out

suddenly from behind a hut.

I was out most of the day shooting pigeons in the woods close by,

accompanied by the "Buli," Masirewa, and several boys. The woods

were full of a wonderfully beautiful creeper, a delicate pink and

white _clerodendron_ which grew in large bunches; there was also a

very pretty _hoya_ (wax flower) scrambling up the trees. We filled

ourselves with the juicy pink fruit of the "kavika," or what is

generally known as the Malacca or rose-apple. The trees were plentiful

in the woods, grew to a large size, and were literally loaded with

fruit, the fallen fruit resembling a pink carpet. Another very good

fruit was the "wi," a golden fruit about the size of a large mango. I

have seen both cultivated in the West Indies.

On my return to the village I had a most interesting interview

with these ex-cannibals, one old and two middle-aged men, thanks

to Masirewa, my interpreter. He first asked them how they liked

human flesh, and they all shouted "Venaka, venaka!" (good). Like the

natives of New Guinea, they said it was far better than pig; they also

declared that the legs, arms and palms of the hands were the greatest

delicacies, and that women and children tasted best. The brains and

eyes were especially good. They would never eat a man who had died a

natural death. They had eaten white man; he was salty and fat, but he

was good, though not so good as "Fiji man." One of them had tasted a

certain Mr. ----, and the meat on his legs was very fat. They chopped

his feet off above the boots, which they thought were part of him,

and they boiled his feet and boots for days, but they did not like

the taste of the boots. They often kept some of their prisoners and

fattened them up, and when the day came for killing one, it was the

women of Namosi's duty to take him down to the large stone by the

river, where they cut him open alive and tore his heart out. Lastly,

I asked if they would still like to eat man if they got the chance,

and they were not afraid of being punished, and there was no hesitation

in their reply of "Io" (yes), uttered with one voice like the yelp

of a hungry wolf, and it seemed to me that their eyes sparkled. They

were certainly a very obliging lot of cannibals.

Cannibalism is, of course, practically extinct now in Fiji, but in

recent years I am told that there, have been a few odd cases far back

in the mountains. On one occasion a man told his wife to build an oven

and that he was going to cook her. This she did, and he then killed,

cooked, and ate her. Whilst in Fiji I met an Englishman who in the

seventies had tasted human meat at a native feast, he believing it

was pig, and at the time he thought it was very good. I was told

that in the old days when they wanted to know whether a body was

cooked enough they looked to see if the head was loose. If the head

fell off it was thought to be "cooked to perfection," but I will not

vouch for this story being correct.

I gave the "Buli" a box of matches, and he seemed as pleased as if it

was a purse of gold; they light all their fires here by wood friction,

Some of the pet pigs around here were very oddly marked with stripes

and spots of brown, black and white. Whilst in Fiji I often came

across natives far from any village who were being followed by pet

pigs, as we in England might be followed by dogs. Masirewa amused

me more each day by his cheek and self-assurance. Once I asked him

what he said to the chief of the hut we were in, and he replied:

"Oh! I tell him Get out, you black fellow.' "

We left Namosi early the next morning, a large crowd seeing us off, and

I was sorry to bid farewell to one of the most beautiful spots in this

wide world. We passed through the villages of Nailili and Waivaka,

where I called at the chiefs' huts and held a kind of "at home"

for a few minutes, the people simply swarming in to look at me. The

"Buli" of Namosi had sent messengers on in front to give notice of my

approach, and at each village they had the inevitable hot yams ready

to eat, which Masirewa made the most of. At the entrance to each

village there was usually a palisade of bamboo or tree-fern trunks,

and here a crowd of girls and children would often be waiting, and on

my approach they would set up loud yells and scamper off, till I began

to think that I must look a very ferocious kind of "papalangai." At

Dellaisakau the natives looked a very wild lot. Some of the men had

black patches all over their faces, and some had great masses of hair

shaped like a parasol. One or two of the women wore only the old-time

small aprons of coconut fibre.

We followed the Waiandina River amid very fine scenery. The sloping

hills were covered with woods, and we passed under a canopy of bamboo,

the large trumpet flowers of the white _datura,_ tree-ferns, large

"ivi," "dakua" and "kavika" trees loaded with ferns and fine orchids in

flower. We crossed the river several times, and I was carried across

by a huge Fijian whose head and neck were covered with lime. Rain

soon set in again, and we literally wallowed in mud and water. I

got drenched by the soaking vegetation, so I afterwards waded boldly

through rivers and streams, as it was impossible to get any wetter.

At Nasiuvou the whole village turned out to greet me, and I held my

usual reception in the chief's hut. The chief seemed very annoyed that

I would not stay the night. No doubt he thought that I would prove

a great attraction for his people. The banks of the Waiandina River

were crowded as I got into a canoe, and Masirewa, in trying to show

off with a large paddle, lost his balance and fell into the water, the

yells of laughter from the crowd showing that they were not lacking

in humour. Masirewa did not like it at all, but I was very glad, as

he had been giving himself too many airs. I dismissed my two bearers

and took only one canoe man and made Masirewa help him. We went down

several rapids at a great pace. It was dangerous but exhilarating, and

we had several narrow escapes of being swamped, as the canoe, being a

small one, was often half-filled with water. We also had several close

shaves from striking rocks and tree trunks. Ducks were plentiful, and I

shot one on the wing as we were tearing down a rapid. The scenery was

very fine; steep wooded mountains, rocky peaks with odd shapes, steep

precipices, fine waterfalls, grand forests, and picturesque villages,

and the scenery as we wound among the mountains was most romantic.

Toward evening we arrived at the large town of Nambukaluku,

where we disembarked. Except for a few old men and children we

found it deserted, and we learned that the "Buli," who is a very

important chief, had gone to stay at the village of Natondre for

some important ceremonies for a few days, and most of the inhabitants

had gone with him. Thither I determined to go, and we set off along

a mountain path. The rain was all gone, and it was a lovely, still

evening. Suddenly I heard distant yells and shouts and the beating

of the "lalis" (hollow wooden drums), and I set off running, leaving

Masirewa and my canoe man carrying my baggage far behind, and on

turning a sharp corner I came full upon the village of Natondre

and a most interesting sight. Hundreds of natives were squatting

on the ground of the village square, and about one hundred men with

faces black and in full war paint, swinging war clubs, were rushing

backward and forward yelling and singing while large wooden drums

were beaten. They were dressed in most fantastic style, some only

with fibrous strings round their loins, and others with yards of

"tapa" cloth wound around them. Several women were jumping about

with fibre aprons on, and all had their hair done up in many curious

ways and sprinkled with red and yellow powders. Huge piles of mats

were heaped in the open square, speeches were made, and the people

all responded with a deep "Ah-h" which sounded most effective from

the huge multitude. I came up in the growing dusk and stood behind

a lot of people squatting down. Suddenly some one looked round and

saw me--sensation--whispers of "papalangai" were heard on all sides,

and looks of astonishment were cast in my direction. Certainly my

entrance to Natondre could not have been more dramatic, and I believe

that they almost thought that I had _fallen from the skies,_ which

is the literal meaning of the word "papalangai."

CHAPTER IV

Mock War-Scene at the Chief's House.

War Ceremonies and Dances at Natondre Described--The Great

Chief of Nambukaluku--The Dances continued--A Fijian Feast--A

Native Orator--The Ceremonies concluded--The Journey continued--A

Wonderful Fungus--The bark of the rare Golden Dove leads to its

Capture--Return to more Civilised Parts--The Author as Guest of a

high Fijian Prince and Princess--A _souvenir_ of Seddon--Arrival

at Suva.

Masirewa soon arrived and I learned that there were some very important

ceremonies in which one tribe was giving presents to another tribe,

in settlement of some disputes that had been carried on since

the old cannibal fighting days, and as I passed into the "Buli's"

hut I noticed that the dancers were unwinding all the "tapa" cloth

from around their bodies and throwing it on the piles of mats. I

immediately went behind a "tapa" screen where the "Buli" slept, and

began to get into dry clothes. This evidently made some of the crowd

in the hut angry, as they thought I was lacking in respect to the

"Buli" by changing in his private quarters, as in Fiji the very high

chiefs are looked upon as sacred. One fellow kept shouting at me in

a very impudent way, so when Masirewa came in, I told him about it,

and he lectured the crowd and told them that I was a very big chief;

this seemed to frighten them. Later on, I found that Masirewa had

complained, and the impudent man was brought up before one of the

chiefs, who gave him a lecture before myself and a large crowd in

the hut I put up in. Masirewa translated for me, how the chief said:

"The white man, who is a big chief, has done us honour in visiting

our town," and to the man: "You will give us a bad name in all Fiji

for our rudeness to the stranger that comes to us." I learned that

the man was going to be punished, but as he looked very repentant I

said that I did not wish him punished, so he was allowed to sneak out

of the hut, the people kicking him and saying angry words as he passed.

I supped with the great "Buli" that evening, and we fared sumptuously

on my duck, river oysters and all sorts of native dishes. We were

waited upon by two warriors in full war paint, and the "Buli's" young

and pretty wife, shining with coconut oil all over her body, sat by me

and fanned me. The "Buli" was an aristocratic-looking old fellow with

a large nose and a very haughty look. He is a very important chief,

but knew no English, and we carried on our conversation through the

medium of Masirewa. He spoke in a kind of mumble, with a very thick

voice. Once when he had been mumbling worse than usual there was a

kind of restrained titter from someone in the crowd at the back. The

"Buli" heard it, and slowly turning his head he transfixed the crowd

with his piercing gaze for many seconds amid a dead silence. I wondered

afterwards if anything ever happened to the unfortunate one who was

so easily amused. I learned that besides having an impediment in

his speech, the "Buli" was also paralyzed in one leg. I Put up in a

different hut, the "Buli" apologizing for his hut being crowded with

the influx of visitors.

I watched a "meke-meke" or native dance that evening in which about a

dozen girls covered with oil took part. There was a sound of revelry

the rest of the night, for there was feasting and dancing in several

huts, and discordant chanting and the hum of many voices followed

me into my dreams. The next morning I went out shooting pigeons in

some thick pathless woods about two miles away, and I also shot some

flying foxes which I gave to my companions, as the Fijians consider

them a great delicacy, as do many Europeans. These woods were full of

pineapples, which in places barred our way. Many of them were ripe,

and I found they possessed a fine flavour.

In the afternoon the ceremonies were continued, the "Buli" sending

for me to sit by him in the doorway of his hut to watch them. First

about forty women with "tapa" cloth wound around their bodies went

through various evolutions, swaying their arms about and chanting in

their usual discordant manner. They then unwound the "tapa" from their

bodies and threw it in a heap on the ground, following this by more

manoeuvres. About twenty men came into the square, some with their

faces blacked and their bodies stained red with some pigment, and

wearing only aprons of coconut strings, with bracelets of leaves on

their arms and carved pigs' tusks hanging from their necks. They went

through some splendid dancing, falling down on the ground and bouncing

up again like india-rubber balls. They sang, or rather chanted, all the

time, and so did a kind of chorus of men who beat on wood and bamboo,

while the dancers danced round them in circles, and squares, and then

bent backward, nearly touching the ground with their heads. As they

danced they kept splendid time, with their arms, legs and heads.

Then amid shrill yells and cries from the crowd, another procession

approached from the far end of the village in single file. First came

several men with spears, which they shook on the ground every now and

then, shaking their bodies at the same time in a fierce manner. Behind

them in single file came a lot of women, each bearing a. rolled-up

mat, which they threw down in a heap. These mats are made from the

dried "pandanus" leaf. Then several men appeared bearing enormous Fiji

baskets full of large rolls of food wrapped up in leaves, also smaller

baskets made of the fresh leaves of the crimson _dracæna,_ also full of

food. From the enormous number of baskets, the food supply was enough

to feed a large multitude. They were all put down together by the mats.

Then there was dead silence, in which you could almost have heard

the proverbial pin drop, and an oldish man stepped forward and stood

by the mats and baskets, his body wound round with "tapa" till it

stuck out many feet from his body. The crowd broke silence with an

ear-piercing yell. He then spoke, and was interrupted from time to time

with cries of approval or the reverse, and sometimes loud laughter,

while the "Buli," sitting by me, every now and then shouted out,

or broke into a childish giggle. Then the speaker uttered a lot

of short sentences very fast, and every one present said "Venaka"

(good) at the end of each sentence. Then the old man unwound the

"tapa" around him and threw it on the mats, as did others.

Silence again, and I began to think all was over, but suddenly there

was another shrill sort of yell from the crowd, and from the back of

our hut, amid a tremendous uproar from all present and the beating of

"lalis" (drums), appeared a procession of about fifty warriors in their

usual picturesque get-up, all brandishing large war-clubs. They paraded

into the square in very stately fashion, singing in their curious and

savage discords, and then went through some grand dances, keeping

wonderful time with their clubs and bodies, and from time to time

giving forth a loud yell which was really thrilling. They next rushed

backward and forward brandishing their clubs and killing an imaginary

foe, and then clapped their hands together in even time. Then off

came the "tapa" from around them, and the heap was made still larger.

Another yell from the crowd. Then silence, followed by more speaking,

and every now and then a deep "Ah-h" from all present, which sounded

like distant thunder and was most impressive. Then all the people

clapped their hands and chanted a few words in low suppressed voices,

and the ceremony, lasting between four or five hours, was over. From

time to time a man would approach the "Buli" and fall down on all

fours and clap his hands before he could speak. I felt at times as

if I was watching a comic opera or a ballet, and there were many

amusing incidents. I think honours were fairly easy between the big

show and myself, as the people kept whispering and looking around at

me the whole time. I never passed a hut without causing excitement,

and there would be cries of "papalangai" and a mass of faces would

appear at the doors. Wherever I went I was followed at a respectful

distance by a crowd of girls and children, but if I turned to retrace

my steps there was a panic-stricken rush to get out of my way. On

one occasion a little child of about two years old yelled with

fright when I passed near it. I was much astonished that a white

man should make such a stir in any part of Fiji, but it is only so

in very out-of-the-way villages such as these. I was exceedingly

lucky to witness these ceremonies, as they were the most important

ones that had taken place in Fiji for many years, and few of the

old white residents had seen their equal. I was all the more lucky,

as I never expected to see them when I started from Suva.

The next morning I said "Samoce" [9] (good-bye) to the great "Buli,"

who, though he was a big chief, was not above accepting with evident

glee the few shillings I pressed into his hand, and with Masirewa and

two fresh bearers continued my journey in the pouring rain. Once we

had to swim across a swift and swollen river, then we went over steep

hills, down deep gullies, wading through streams and passing all the

time through thick forests. We stopped once to feed on wild pineapples,

the pink "kavika." and the golden "wi," but Masirewa was a bad bushman

and slipped, and stumbled, swore and grumbled, and many times I had

to wait till he came up with me. We followed a deep and beautiful

gulch for some distance, wading all the way through a shallow stream

which flowed over a natural slanting pavement with a smooth surface,

and I found it hard to keep my footing. We got a magnificent view

from the top of a high hill of the country to the eastward, with

large rivers winding among beautiful undulating wooded country as

far as the eye could reach. We passed through but one village, named

Naqeldreteki, and from here I saw two very fine waterfalls falling

side by side over a steep cliff several hundred feet straight drop

into the forest below. It was about here that I came across a most

beautiful sort of fungus of a bright scarlet and orange, and in the

shape of a perfect star.

I heard what I took to be the gruff bark of a dog, when it suddenly

dawned upon me that there could not be any dogs here, as we were

far from any village. Upon investigation I discovered that it was a

bird that was the author of the noise, and I soon brought it down

with a load of dust-shot, and to my great delight it proved to be

the golden dove, a bird which I had hunted for in vain in the other

islands. It was of a very fine metallic golden-yellow colour, and

the feathers being long and narrow, gave it a very odd appearance. I

could only mutter "venaka, venaka" (good), and in spite of the heavy

rain reverently and slowly rolled it up in cotton wool and paper, to

the great amusement of my three Fijians. Among the most interesting

features of bird life in the Samoan and Fijian Islands were the various

members of the dove family, which looked wonderfully brilliant with

their metallic greens, and their orange, crimson, purple, yellow,

pink, cream and olive green. The latter part of the journey was through

bushy country dotted about with many large orchid and fern-laden trees.

We arrived toward dusk at the large village of Serea, on the Wainimala

River, which is a branch of the Rewa River, and I put up in the large

hut of the "Buli." I began to feel like an ordinary mortal again,

as the people here did not exhibit any great surprise on seeing me,

no doubt because, being in the Rewa district, they see a few Europeans

from time to time. After a change into dry clothes and a supper off

one of the large pigeons I had shot _en route,_ I had a large and

interested crowd to watch me skin my dove, and there were roars of

laughter during the process, especially when Masirewa told them it

would be made to look like a real bird with glass eyes. Masirewa at one

time spoke sharply to the "Buli" who, I thought, looked a bit annoyed,

so I asked Masirewa what he said. "Oh," he said airily, "I told him

to keep his pig of a child away from the white chief." Masirewa, was

a character, and evidently had no respect for chiefs and princes,

etc., as he treated all the "Bulis" as his equals, which was very

different from the generally cringing attitude of the Fijians to

their chiefs. Even the high and mighty "Buli" of Nabukaluku [10]

seemed to like his cheek. Masirewa liked to show off his English,

though no one understood a word, and his favourite way of addressing

them when he was annoyed was "You all black devil pigs." Whilst I

was skinning my dove, the people brought in a horrible-looking carved

figure with staring eyes. It was about five feet high, and they waxed

very merry, whenever I looked up at it from my skinning.

I left early next morning in the pouring rain, and found as I passed

through Serea that it was quite a town. Quite a large crowd escorted

me down the steep banks of the river (Wainimala), and we were soon

spinning down stream in a large canoe. We soon joined another river

which, together with the Wainimala, formed the Rewa, the largest

river in Fiji. The scenery was both varied and picturesque, and once

I got the canoe paddled up a little shady creek where there was a very

beautiful waterfall, and where I was glad to stretch my legs for a few

minutes after being cramped up in the canoe. There were many pretty

and quaint villages on the banks, and the people often rushed out of

their huts to see us pass. Ducks were plentiful, and I got a fair bag

and used up my remaining cartridges, and the rest of the way I had to

be content with pointing my gun at them, which was very tantalizing. We

arrived about three p.m. at the village of Viria, and I stayed with the

"Buli" in his hut almost overhanging the river. In the evening I took a

stroll with the "Buli" round the village, and then we sat on a log by

the river chatting, with Masirewa acting as interpreter. We continued

our journey the next morning, and late in the day we passed large

fields of sugarcane. We had returned to civilization once more, and

I could not help feeling a pang of regret. We arrived at the village

of Navuso about four p.m., and I was the guest of Andi (princess)

Cakobau (pronounced Thakombau) and her husband, Ratu (prince)

Beni Tanoa. Princess Cakobau is the highest lady of rank in Fiji,

and belongs to the royal family. She is very stately and ladylike,

and in her younger days was very beautiful. She does not know any

English, but she wrote her autograph for me in my note-book to paste

on her photograph, as she writes a very good hand. Her husband is

also one of the highest chiefs in Fiji, and speaks good English. They

proved most hospitable, and presented me with some Fijian fans when

I left the next morning, and the Princess gave me a buttonhole of

flowers out of her garden. Dick Seddon, the Premier of New Zealand,

had once visited them, and I noticed his portrait that he had given

them fastened to a post in their hut. I left Navuso by steam launch

which called at the large sugar-mills a little lower down, and reached

Suva that afternoon, feeling very fit after one of the most enjoyable

and interesting expeditions that I ever made.

PART III

My Life Among Filipinos and Negritos and a Journey in Search of

Bearded Women.

CHAPTER V

At Home Among Filipinos and Negritos.

Arrival at Florida Blanca--The Schoolmaster's House Kept by

Pupils in their Master's Absence--Everyday Scenes at Florida

Blanca--A Filipino Sunday--A Visit to the Cock-fighting

Ring--A Strange Church Clock and Chimes--Pugnacious Scene at a

Funeral--Strained Relations between Filipinos and Americans--My

New Servant--Victoriano, an Ex-officer of Aguinaldo's Army,

and his Six Wives--I Start for the Mountains--"Free and easy"

Progress of my Buffalo-cart--Ascent into the Mountains--Arrival at

my Future Abode--Description of my Hut and Food--Our Botanical

Surroundings--Meetings with the Negritos--Friendliness and

Mirth of the Little People--Negritos may properly be called

Pigmies--Their Appearance, Dress, Ornaments and Weapons--An

Ingenious Pig-arrow--Extraordinary Fish-traps--Their Rude Barbaric

Chanting--Their Chief and His House--Cure of a Malarial Fever

and its Embarrassing Results--"Agriculture in the Tropics"--A

Hairbreadth Escape--Filipino Blowpipes--A Pigmy Hawk in

Pigmyland--The Elusive _Pitta_--Names of the Birds--A Moth as

Scent Producer--Flying Lizards and other kinds--A "Tigre" Scare

by Night--Enforced Seclusion of Female Hornbill.

When collecting in the Philippines, I put in most of my time in

the Florida Blanca Mountains, in the province of Pampanga, Northern

Luzon. I arrived one evening after dark at the good-sized village of

Florida Blanca, which is situated a few miles from the foot of the

mountain, whose name it shares. I carried a letter to the American

schoolmaster, who was the only white man in the district, and had

been a soldier in the late war. It seemed to me a curious policy

on the part of the American government to turn their soldiers into

schoolmasters, especially as in most cases they are very ignorant

themselves. I believe, however, the chief object is to teach the young

Filipinos English, and so turn them into live American citizens. The

Americans are far from popular in the Philippines, and when in Manila

I was strongly advised not to wear _khaki_ in the jungle for fear of

being taken for an American soldier.

The American's house was dark and still when I arrived at Florida

Blanca, but whilst I was wondering what to do, I was surprised

to hear a small voice, coming out of a small adjoining house,

say in good English (though slowly and with a strong accent),

"Thee--master--has--gone--into--thee--mountains--to--kill--deer--and--pigs."

This was from one of the American's own pupils, an intelligent little

fellow named Camilo. As I learnt that he was not expected back for

two or three days, there was nothing left but to make myself as

comfortable as possible in his house until his return. Camilo was

soon boiling me some water, and I opened some of my provisions,

as I had eaten nothing for eight hours. The house was an ordinary

Filipino one, raised fully ten feet from the ground and built of

native timber, the peaked roof, which had a frame-work of bamboo,

being thatched with palm-leaves. The divisions between the rooms were

of plaited bamboo work, and the sliding windows were latticed, each

division being fitted with pieces of pearl shell. The next morning

I was invaded by quite an army of small boys, who, to my surprise,

all spoke English very prettily in their slow way and with a quaint

accent. I have never come across a more bright and intelligent set

of little fellows, all very friendly and not a bit shy, yet most

polite and well-mannered. They were manly little fellows, with the

faces of cherubs, and they were always smiling. Though the ages of my

five little favourites, Camilo, Nicolas, Fernando, Dranquilino and

Victorio, ranged only from eleven down to seven (the latter being

little smiling-faced Victorio), they did all my errands for me,

bought me little rolls of sweetish bread, eggs and fruit, and were

most honest. They talked to me as if they had known me all their

lives, acted as my guides and showed me all there was to see. They

generally followed me in a row, with their arms round each other's

neck in a most affectionate way, and I never heard any of them use

one angry word amongst themselves. The few days that I spent here,

I wandered through the narrow lanes and collected a few birds and

butterflies. These lanes were very dusty at the time, and were hemmed

in with an uninteresting shrubby growth on each side. The country

round Florida Blanca was for the most part covered with rice-fields,

which, at the time of my visit, were parched and covered with short

stubble, this being the dry season. I was not very successful in my

collecting, and looked forward to my visit to the mountains, which

I could see in the distance, and which appeared well covered with

damp-looking forests. I noticed quantities of white egrets, which

settled on the backs of the water buffaloes. I would often pass these

water buffaloes with their heads sticking out of a way-side pond of

mud and water. They were generally used for drawing the curious wagons

of the country, which were rather like those one sees in Mexico, with

solid wooden wheels. Generally when I met these water buffaloes out

of harness, they were horribly afraid of me and stampeded, at the

same time making the most extraordinary noises, something between

a squeak and a short blast on a penny trumpet. They are usually

stupid-looking brutes, but this showed that they were intelligent

enough to distinguish between me and a Filipino. The pigs here had

three pieces of wood round their necks fastened together to form a

triangle, an excellent idea, as it prevented them from breaking through

the fences. The day following my arrival was a Sunday, and the church,

a large building of stone and galvanized iron, was almost opposite

the American's house. I watched the people going to early mass (the

Filipinos are devout Roman Catholics). All the women wore gauzy veils

thrown over their heads, white or black were the prevailing colours

and sometimes red. I thought they looked very nice in them. I had

asked Camilo to boil me some water, but he begged off very politely,

as he had to go and put on his cassock and surplice to attend the

service in the church, where he sang all alone. When he returned,

I asked him to sing to me what he had sung in the church, and he at

once complied, singing the "Gloria Patri" in a very clear and sweet

voice. After mass was over, the church bell began to toll and an

empty lighted bier came out of the church. It was preceded by three

acolytes bearing a long cross and two large lighted candlesticks,

and followed by a crowd of people. They were no doubt going to call

at a house for the corpse. Shortly afterwards an old Filipino priest

came out and got into one of the quaint covered buffalo wagons with

solid wooden wheels (already mentioned), and drove slowly round by

the road. It was hot and sultry, and thunder was pealing far away in

the mountains. Under a clump of trees (of a kind of yellow flowering

acacia), which grew just outside the large old wooden doors of the

church, there was a group of village youths and loafers, and two

or three men went past with their fighting cocks under their arms,

Sunday afternoon out here being the great day for cock-fighting. There

seemed to be a sleepiness in the air quite in keeping with the day of

the week, and I was nearly dozing off when little Nicolas came in. I

asked him if he knew where the cook-fighting took place, and added,

"you savez" (slang for "understand"). His eyes flashed, and he said,

"Me no savage," but when I explained that I did not call him a

"savage," his eyes, smiled an apology, and he willingly offered to

show me the place where the cock-fighting was to be.

On entering the large bamboo shed or theatre where the cock-fighting

took place, I was met by the old Presidente of the village, to

whom I had brought a letter from Governor Joven (the Governor of

the province), whom I had visited at Bacolor on my way hither. He

conducted me to a seat on a raised clay platform, and sat next to me

most of the time, but as the fighting progressed he got very excited,

and had to go down into the ring. I had often witnessed it before

in tropical America, but here the left feet of the cocks were armed

with large steel spurs shaped like miniature cutlasses, which before

the fight began were encased in small leather sheaths. The onlookers

worked themselves up into a state of great excitement, and there was

a great deal of chaff, mixed with angry words, and plenty of silver

"pesos" were exchanged over the results. But it was cruel work,

and the crouching spectators were often scattered right and left by

the furious birds, whilst on one occasion a too venturesome onlooker

received a rather severe gash on his arm.

The church clock here was a thing to wonder at. It had no dial, and

struck only about five times a day. When it struck ten there was an

interval of over twenty seconds between each stroke until the last

two strokes, these coming quickly together, as if it was tired of

such slow work! As there was no face to the clock, I was puzzled to

know whether to set my watch at the first or last stroke, or to split

the difference.

There were a great many funerals during my stay here in December,

there being a regular epidemic of cholera and malaria. This was the

unhealthy season, and I was told that there were as many deaths in

Florida Blanca during the months of December and January as during

all the rest of the year put together.

One day I watched from my window a funeral procession on its way

from the church to the cemetery. The Padre was not there, and this

no doubt accounted for the acrobatic display given by the three men

in cassocks and surplices, who led the way, bearing a cross and two

candles. They started by playfully kicking each other, and this soon

developed into angry words, so that I expected a free fight. One

of them tucked his unbuttoned cassock round his neck, and egged the

other two on. The coffin followed on a lighted bier, and the string

of mourners followed meekly behind, no doubt looking upon this display

as nothing out of the common.

The interior of the church was very cold and bare, and there were no

seats. I learnt that the American and the Filipino Padre did not hit it

off together. There were one or two opposition schools in the village,

run by Filipinos, who did their utmost to prevent the children from

learning the language of the hated Americanos. The American did

not make himself any more popular by pulling down the old street

sign-boards bearing Spanish names, and substituting ugly card-board

placards marked in ink with fresh names, such as America Street,

McKinley Street, and Roosevelt Street; he had also named a street

after himself! Later on I learnt that this American schoolmaster

was a kind of spy in the American secret police, and that he had to

listen outside Filipino houses at night to overhear the conversation

of suspected insurgents. I was told this by Victoriano, my Filipino

servant in the mountains, who often accompanied the American in his

nightly rounds, and was the only man in the secret. This Victoriano,

whom I always called Vic for short, was the best servant that I

have had during my wanderings in any part of the world. He spoke

Spanish and knew a little English, as he had once been a servant

to an Englishman near Manila. With my small knowledge of Spanish,

and his smattering of English, we hit it off very well together. He

acted as gun-bearer, cook, laundry maid, housemaid, interpreter and

guide. Later on he told me that he had been an officer in the insurgent

Aguinaldo's army, and that he had been imprisoned by the Spaniards for

four years on the island of Mindanao for belonging to a revolutionary

society. He was a tall, thin fellow of only thirty-two years of age,

and yet his present wife in Florida Blanca was his sixth, all the

others being dead. I used to chaff him about having poisoned them,

which much amused him. After some days the American returned, and he

told me of a very good spot in which to collect up in the mountains,

so one morning I started off with Vic for a long stay in these mountain

forests. We left Florida Blanca before the sun had risen, my luggage

being carried in one of the curious buffalo wagons. We soon left

the dry rice-fields behind, and for some distance passed over a wide

uninteresting plain of tall grass, dotted about with a few trees. After

going some distance our two buffaloes were unyoked and allowed to soak

in a small pond. This process was repeated every time we came to any

water, and this, together with the slow progress of the buffaloes,

made the journey longer than I had anticipated. After crossing a

fair-sized river, we began a gradual ascent into the mountains. My

luggage was then carried for a short distance, and after travelling

through some bamboo thickets and crossing a rocky stream, I beheld my

future abode. It was a small grass-thatched hut, with a flooring of

split bamboo, raised four feet from the ground; up to this we had to

climb by means of a single bamboo step. About two-thirds of the hut

consisted of a flooring of bamboo, fairly open on all sides but one;

this part did as my bedroom, and to get to it I had to crawl through

a hole--one could hardly call it a door! It was quite dark inside,

but there was just room enough to lie down on the split bamboo

floor. All round the hut was a large clearing, planted with maize,

belonging to a Filipino, who from time to time lived in another small

hut about one hundred yards away. He also owned the one I was living

in, and for this I paid him the not very exorbitant sum of one peso

(two shillings) a month. Tall gaunt trees rose out of the corn on all

sides, and in the early morning they were full of bird-life--parrots,

parakeets, cockatoos, pigeons, woodpeckers, gapers and hornbills,

etc. A clear rocky stream flowed by the side of the hut, the sound of

whose rushing waters by night and day was like music to the ear in this

hot and thirsty land, whilst shaded as it was by bamboos and trees,

it was a delightful spot to bathe in every morning and evening. I was

well pleased with my surroundings, and looked forward to a successful

and interesting stay. I fared well though the food was rough, and I

subsisted chiefly on rice and papayas, together with pigeons, doves,

parrots, and the smaller hornbill, called here "talactic," all of which

fell to my gun. The surrounding country in these lower mountains was

a mixture of forest and open grass-country, the grass often growing

far over my head. The forest, which abounded in clear, rocky streams

of cold water, was very luxuriant and beautiful, especially in many

of the cool, damp ravines further back in the mountains. But near my

camping ground a great deal of the forest seemed to be half smothered

with large thickets of bamboo, and consequently the larger trees

were rather far apart. There was also a climbing variety of bamboo,

which scrambled up to the tops of the largest trees. The undergrowth

in places was most luxuriant and consisted of different species of

palms, rattans, tree-ferns, _pandanus,_ giant ginger, _pipers, pothos,

begonias,_ bananas, _caladiums,_ ferns, _selaginellas_ and lycopodiums,

and many variegated plants. Growing on many of the trees were some

fine orchids. Chief amongst them may be mentioned a very beautiful

"vanda," which grew mostly on trees in the open grass country, and

which I witnessed in full bloom during my stay here. They presented

a wonderful sight. Out of the large sheaths of fan-like leaves grew

two grand flower-spikes, bearing from thirty to forty large white,

chocolate and crimson flowers. Of these there were two varieties,

and on one large plant I saw fully a dozen flower-spikes. Further back

in the mountains I came across some fine species of _Phalaenopsis._

I early made the acquaintance of the little Negritos, the aborigines of

these mountains, and during my wanderings I would often stumble across

their huts in small clearings in the forest. They never seemed to have

any villages, and I hardly ever saw more than one hut in one place,

and they were nearly always miserable bamboo hovels. As for the little

people themselves, they seemed perfectly harmless, and from the first

treated me with the greatest friendliness, and would often pay me a

visit at my hut, sometimes bringing me rice and "papayas" or a large

hornbill, which had been shot with their steel-pointed arrows. They

were quite naked except for a very small strip of cloth. Their skin

was of a very dark brown colour, their hair frizzly, and the nose

flat. They were by far the smallest race of people I had ever seen,

and they might quite properly be termed pigmies. I certainly never

came across a Negrito man over four feet six inches, if as tall,

and the women were a great deal smaller, coming as a rule only up to

the men's shoulders; the elderly women looked like small children

with old faces. Both sexes generally had their bodies covered with

various patterns cut in their skins, a kind of tattooing it might

be called, but the skin was very much raised. Many of them had

the backs of their heads in the centre shaved in a curious manner,

like a very broad parting. I did not see them wearing many ornaments,

but the men had tight-fitting fibre bracelets on their arms and legs,

and the women sometimes wore necklaces of seeds, berries and beads;

they would also sometimes wear curiously carved bamboo combs in their

hair. The men used spears and bows and arrows; these latter they were

rarely without. Their arrows were often works of art, very fine and

neat patterns being burnt on the bamboo shafts. The feathers on the

heads were large, and the steel points were very neatly bound on with

rattan. These steel points were often cruel-looking things, having

many fishhook-like barbs set at different angles, so that if they once

entered a man's body it would be impossible to extract them again. A

very clever invention was an arrow made for shooting deer and pig. The

steel point was comparatively small, and it was fitted very lightly

to a small piece of wood, which was also lightly placed in the end

of the arrow. Attached at one end to the arrow-head was a long piece

of stout native cord, which was wound round the shaft, the other end

being fastened to the main shaft. When the arrow was shot into a pig,

for instance, the steel head soon fell apart from the small bit of

wood, which in its turn would also drop off from the main shaft. The

thick cord would then gradually become unwound, and together with

the shaft would trail on the ground till at length it would be caught

fast in the bamboos or other thick growth, and the pig would then be

at the mercy of its pursuers. The steel head, being barbed, could

not be pulled out in the pig's struggles to break loose. I had one

of these arrows presented to me by the chief of these Negritos, but,

as a rule, they are very hard to get as the Negritos value them very

highly. An American officer I met in Manila told me that he had been

quartered for some time in a district where there were many Negritos,

and though he had offered large rewards for one of these arrows he was

not successful in getting one. The women manufacture enormous baskets,

which I often saw them carrying on their backs when I met them in

the forest. I was much struck with the cleverness of some of their

fish-traps; these were long cone-like objects tapering to a point,

the insides being lined with the extraordinary barb-covered stems of

a rattan or climbing palm, and the thorns or barbs placed (pointing

inwards) in such a way that the fish could get in easily but not out.

These Negritos were splendid marksmen with their bows and arrows, and

during my stay amongst them I became quite an adept in that art; their

old chief used to take a great delight in teaching me, and my first

efforts were met with hearty roars of laughter. They were certainly

the merriest and yet the dirtiest people I have ever met. Whenever

I met them they were always smiling. When, as happened on more than

one occasion, I lost my way in the forest and had at length stumbled

upon one of their dwellings, I made signs to let them understand

that I wanted them to show me the way back. This they cheerfully did,

and led the way singing in their peculiar manner; it was a most wild

and abandoned and barbaric kind of music, if it could really be called

music at all. It consisted chiefly of shouting and yelling in different

scales, as if the singers were overflowing with joy at the mere idea

of being alive. I would often hear them singing, or yelling like

children, in the deep recesses of the forest. In fact the contentment

and happiness of these little people was quite extraordinary, and I

had a great affection for them. They would do almost anything for me,

and their chief and I soon became great friends. He was a most amusing

old fellow, and nearly always seemed to be laughing. Yet they were

also the dirtiest people I had ever seen, and never washed themselves:

consequently they were thick with dirt, which even their dark skins

could not hide. They grew a little rice and tobacco, and the old chief

always kept me well supplied with rice, which seemed of very fair

quality. He also kept a few chickens and would often send me a present

of some eggs, which were very acceptable. In return I would give him

an old shirt or two, which he was very proud of. By the time I left,

these shirts were almost the colour of his skin, and he evidently did

not wish to follow my advice as to washing them. His house was a very

large one for a Negrito's, and far better built than any others that

I saw. When the maize which grew round my hut was ripe, the Filipino

owner got several men and women up from Florida Blanca to help him

to harvest it, and many of them slept underneath my hut. At nights I

would generally have quite a crowd round me watching me skin my birds,

and although I did not understand a word of their Pampanga dialect,

their exclamations of surprise and delight when a bird was finished

were quite complimentary. Poor Vic had to endure a running fire of

questions as to what I was going to do with my birds and butterflies,

but to judge by the way he lectured on me, he no doubt enjoyed it,

and possibly told them some wonderful yarns about "My English," as

he called me. One day a man at work in the maize had a bad attack of

"calenturas" (malarial fever). I gave him some quinine and Epsom salts

and this treatment evidently had a good effect, as the next day I was,

besieged by a regular crowd of Filipinos of both sexes, who wished to

consult me as to their various ills, and Vic was called in to act as

interpreter. A good many of them, both men and women, took off nearly

all their clothes to show me bruises and sores that they had, and I

was in despair as to what treatment to recommend. At last when one

old woman had parted with most of her little clothing to show me some

sores, I told Vic to tell her that she had better get a good wash in

the river (as she was the reverse of clean). This prescription raised

a laugh, but the old lady was furious, and my medical advice was not

again asked for. After the maize was cut, the owner started to sow

a fresh crop without even taking out the old stalks, which had been

cut off a few inches from the ground. This was the way he did it. He

made holes in the ground with a hoe in one hand, and in the other

hand he held a roasted cob of corn, which he kept chewing from time

to time. His wife followed him, dropping a grain into each hole and

filling in the soil with her feet. It would have made a good picture

under the heading of "Agriculture in the Tropics"! Vic told me that

they got four crops a year, so one can hardly wonder at their taking

things easily. A rough bamboo fence separated the maize from a copse

of bamboo jungle and forest, in which I was one day collecting with

Vic, when I attempted to jump over a very low part of the fence. Vic,

however, called out to me to stop, and it was lucky he did so, as

otherwise the consequences would have been terrible for me. Just

hidden by a few thin creepers, there had been arranged there a very

neat little pig-trap, consisting of a dozen or more sharp bamboo

spears firmly planted in the ground, and leaning at a slight angle

towards the fence. Except for Vic's timely warning I should have been

stuck through and through, as the bamboo points would stand a heavy

weight without breaking, and if I had escaped being killed, I should

certainly have been crippled for life. I naturally felt very angry

with my neighbour for not having asked Vic to tell me about this,

as the previous day when out alone I had climbed to the top of this

fence and then jumped down into the creepers below; luckily I had

not then noticed this low part further down.

Many of the Filipinos are very good shots with their blowpipes, and

Vic possessed one. It was about nine feet in length, and possessed a

sight made of a lump of wax at one end. Like the bows of the Negritos,

it was made out of the trunk of a very beautiful fan-palm (_Livistona_

sp.). Two pieces of the palm-wood are hollowed out and then stuck

together in a wonderfully clever fashion, so that the joins barely

show. Vic was fairly good with it when shooting at birds a short

distance away. His ammunition consisted of round clay pellets, which

he fashioned to the right size by help of a hole in a small tin plate,

which he always carried with him.

Birds were fairly plentiful in these mountain forests, and I was

glad to get one of the interesting racquet-tailed parrots of the

genus _Prioniturus,_ that are only found in the Philippines and

Celebes. It was curious that up here amongst the pigmy Negritos I

should get a pigmy hawk. It was by far the smallest hawk I had ever

seen, being not much larger than a sparrow. Several species of very

beautiful honey-suckers, full of metallic colours, used to frequent the

bright red flowers of a creeper that generally clambered up the trees

overhanging the streams, and these flowers proved very popular with

many butterflies, especially the giant gold and black _Ornithopteras_

and various rare _papilios_ of great beauty. There was one bird I was

most anxious to get, and though I saw it once I had to leave Luzon

without it. It was a _pitta,_ a kind of ground thrush. Thrushes of

this genus are amongst the most brilliant of all birds, and in my own

collections I possess a great number of different species that I have

collected in other countries. This one that I was so anxious to get

was locally called "Tinkalu." Amongst both Filipinos and Negritos it

has the reputation of being the cleverest of all birds, and, as Vic

expressed it, "like a man." It hops away into the thickest undergrowth

and hides at the least sound. Certainly no bird has ever given me

such a lot of worry and trouble. Many a weary hour did I spend going

through swamps and rivers, bamboo and thorny palms, dripping with

perspiration and tormented by swarms of mosquitos and sand-flies,

and all to no purpose!

Thanks to Vic, I soon picked up most of the local names of the various

birds, which were often given on account of the sounds they made. The

large hornbill was named "Gasalo," the smaller kind "Talactic," the

large pigeon "Buabu," a bee-eater "Patirictiric," and other names

were "Pipit," "Culiaun," "Alibasbas," "Quilaquilbunduc," "Papalacul,"

"Batala," "Batubatu," "Culasisi." Some of the spiders here were of

great size, and in these mountain forests their webs were a great

nuisance. These webs were often of a yellow glutinous substance,

which stained my clothes, and when they caught me in the face, as

they often did, it was the reverse of pleasant.

Mosquitos and sandflies were very numerous and ants were in great

force, so that one evening when I discovered that they were hard at

work amongst all my bird skins, it took me up to 5 a.m. to separate

them before I could get to bed.

I discovered a diurnal moth that possessed a most powerful and

delicious scent. Vic, who had never noticed it before, was delighted,

and proposed my catching them in quantities and turning them into

scent. Whilst on the subject of scent, I might mention that in

these forests I would often come across a good-sized tree which was

called Ilang-ilang. It was covered with plain-looking green flowers,

which possessed a wonderful fragrance. I learnt that the Filipinos

collected the flowers, which were sent to Manila and made into scent,

but that they generally cut down the tree in order to get the flowers.

I saw here for the first time the curious flying lizards. Their

partly transparent wings were generally of very bright colours; they

fly fully twenty yards from one tree to another, and quickly run up

the trees out of reach. Another quaint lizard, was what is generally

known as the gecko. It is said to be poisonous in the Philippines,

and is generally found on trees or bamboos and often in houses. In

comparison to the size of this lizard the volume of its voice was

enormous. I generally heard it at night. First would come a preliminary

gurgling chuckle; then a pause (between the chuckle and what follows

it). Then comes loud and clear, "Tuck-oo-o," then a slight pause, then

"Tuck-oo-o" again repeated six or seven times at regular intervals;

at other times it sounds like "Chuck it." When it was calling inside

a hollow bamboo, the noise made was extraordinary. There were a

great number of bamboos in the surrounding country, and they were

continually snapping with loud reports, which I would often imagine

to be the reports of a rifle until I got used to them. Wild pig were

very plentiful, and at night they would often grub up the ground a few

yards from my hut. One night I was skinning a bird, with Vic looking

on, when we heard some animal growling close by, and Vic without any

warning seized my gun (which I always kept loaded with buckshot) and

fired into the darkness. He said that it was a "tigre," and called

out excitedly that he had killed it, but although we hunted about

with a light for some time, we saw no signs of it. No doubt it was

some animal of the cat family. Vic, as in fact all Filipinos, had

a mortal dread of snakes, and he would never venture out at night

without a torch made of lighted bamboo, as he said they were very

plentiful at night. The large hornbills ("Gasalo") were very hard

to stalk, and as they generally frequented the tallest trees they

were out of shot. They usually flew about in flocks, and made a most

extraordinary noise, rather like a whole farmyard full of turkeys,

guinea fowls and dogs. The whirring noise they made with their wings

was not unlike the shunting of a locomotive. I had often before heard

of the curious habit of the male in plastering up the female with mud

in the hollow of a tree, leaving only a small hole through which he

fed her until the single egg was hatched and the young one was ready to

fly. Vic knew this, and further informed me that the smaller species,

named here "Talactic," had the same custom of plastering up the female.

Many evenings, when I had finished my work, I would get Vic to teach

me the Pampanga, dialect, and wrote down a large vocabulary of words,

and when some years afterwards I compared them word for word with

other dialects and languages throughout the Malay Archipelago,

I found that, with a few exceptions, there was not the slightest

affinity between them.

CHAPTER VI

A Chapter of Accidents.

A Severe Bout of Malaria in the Wilds--The "Seamy

Side" of Exploration--Unfortunate Shooting of the Chief's

Dog--Filipino Credulity--Stories of the Buquils and their Bearded

Women--Expedition Planned--Succession of _contretemps_--Start for

the Buquil Country--Scenes on the Way--A Negrito Mother's Method

of Giving Drink to Her Baby--Exhausting Marches Amid Striking

Scenery--The Worst Over--A Bolt from the Blue--Negritos in a

Fury--Violent Scenes at a Negrito Council of War--They Decide

on Reprisals--Further Progress Barred in Consequence--Return to

Florida Blanca.

As I mentioned before, this was the unhealthy season in the

Philippines, and Vic assured me that these lower mountains were even

more unhealthy than the flat country. I myself soon arrived at a

similar conclusion, as a regular epidemic of malaria now set in among

my pigmy friends, the Negritos, and the old chief told us that his

favourite son was dying with it; next my neighbour and his wife were

prostrated with it, and when they had slightly recovered, they left

their hut and returned to Florida Blanca. Vic himself was next laid

up with it, and seemed to think he was going to die. When I was at

work in the evening he would shiver and groan under a blanket by my

side; this, coming night after night, was rather depressing for me,

all alone as I was. At other times he would imagine we were hunting the

wary and elusive _pitta,_ and would start up crying, "_Ah! el tinkalu,_

it is there! _por Deos,_ shoot, my English, shoot!" or he would imagine

we were after butterflies, and would cry out, _"Caramba, mariposa azul

muy grande, muy bueno, bueno!"_ I was forced to do all the cooking for

both of us, though it was quite pathetic to see poor Vic's efforts to

come to my assistance, and his indignation that his "English" should

do such work for him. At one time I half expected that he would die,

but with careful nursing and doctoring I gradually brought him round.

During all the time that he was ill. I did but little collecting,

and no sooner was Vic on the road to recovery than I myself was seized

with it, and Vic repaid the compliment by nursing me in turn. It was

a most depressing illness, especially as I was living on the poorest

fare in a close and dirty hut. When you are ill in civilization, with

nurses and doctors and a good bed, you feel that you are in good hands,

and confidence does much to help recovery. But it is a different matter

being sick in the wilds, without any of these luxuries, and you wonder

what will happen if it gets serious. Then you long for home and its

luxuries, with a very great longing, and cordially detest the spot

you are in, with all those wretched birds and butterflies! It is Eke

a long nightmare, but as you get better you forget all this, and the

jaundiced feeling soon wears off, and you start off collecting again

as keen as ever. One day a small skinny brown dog somehow managed to

climb up the bamboo step into my hut during Vic's temporary absence,

and I suddenly awoke to find it helping itself to the contents of a

plate that Vic had placed by my side. I was far too ill to do more

than frighten it away. This happened a second time before I was strong

enough to move, but the third time I was well enough to seize my small

collecting gun (which was loaded with very small cartridges), and

when it was about thirty yards away I fired at it, simply intending to

frighten it, as at that distance these small cartridges would hardly

have killed a small bird. It stopped suddenly and, after spinning

round a few times yelping, it turned over on its back. Even then I

thought it was shamming, but on going up to it I found it was dead,

with only one No. 8 shot in its spleen. On Vic's return he was much

alarmed, as he said the dog belonged to the Negrito chief, who was

very fond of it, and would be very angry with me if he knew. So we

hid the body in the middle of a clump of bamboo about a quarter of

a mile away from the hut. But the following day the sky was thick

with a kind of turkey buzzard, which had evidently smelt the dog's

corpse from some distance, and they were soon quarrelling over the

remains. Vic worked himself up into a state of panic, saying that it

would be discovered by the Negritos, but a few days later I sent him

over to the Negrito chief's hut to get me some rice, and the chief

mentioned that his chief wife had lost her dog, which she was very

fond of, and that he thought that I must have killed it. Vic in reply

said that that could never be, as in the country that I came from

the people were so fond of dogs that they were very kind to them,

and treated them like their own fathers. The chief then said that a

pig must have killed it, and so the incident ended.

About this time Vic asked my permission to return to Florida Blanca

for a few days, as he had heard that his wife had run away with another

man, and he offered to send his brother to take his place. His brother

could also speak English a little, and was assistant schoolmaster to

the American. He proved, however, an arrant coward, and, like most

Filipinos, lived in great fear of the Negritos. When out with me

in the forest he would start, if he heard a twig snap or a bamboo

creak, and look fearfully about him for a Negrito. He told me that

the Negritos will kill and rob you if they think there is no chance

of being found out, and he mentioned a case of an old Filipino being

killed and robbed by these same Negritos a few months previously. I

managed to string together the following absurd story from his broken

English. He said that if you heard a twig break in the forest once or

even twice you were safe enough, but if a twig snapped a third time,

and you did not call out that you saw the Negrito, you would get an

arrow into you. He said that once when he heard the stick "break three

time" (to use his own words), he called out "Ah! I see you Negrite,

and the Negrite he no shoot, but came out like amigo (friend)." His

English was too limited for me to point out the many weak and absurd

points of the story, as, for instance, why the Negrito should make the

twigs break exactly three times, and why he should not shoot because

he thinks he is seen. I only mention this anecdote to illustrate the

credulity of the Filipinos. The next day, when we were out collecting

in the morning, I suddenly saw him start when a bamboo snapped, so I

called out, "Buenos diaz, Señor Negrite." This was too much for my man,

who ran off home and refused to follow me in the forest that afternoon,

and when I returned that evening he was nowhere to be seen, and I

found out later that he had returned to Florida Blanca. In consequence

I was forced to do all my own cooking, which was not pleasant, as I

had to do it all in the hot sun, and this brought on a return of my

fever. At last, one morning, as I was endeavouring to light a fire to

cook my breakfast, and muttering unpleasant things about Vic and his

brother, I suddenly looked up and Vic stood before me like a. silent

ghost. I say like a ghost, because he looked like one, thin and gaunt

as he still was from fever. He, too, had had a return of the fever

and had not yet recovered, but sooner than that "his English" should

be alone, he had dragged himself over in the cool of the night. The

next day his wife and two children arrived. She had been on a visit

to her mother in another village, which accounted for Vic's thinking

she had run away. They occupied the hut of my late neighbour, and

before many days had gone they were all bad with fever. It was easy

to see that the woman hated me, and imagined I was the cause of her

having to come and live in these lonely and unhealthy mountains. Vic

told me that there had been so much sickness in Florida Blanca that

there was no quinine left in the place. My own stock was getting low,

and Vic and his family, as well as myself, used it daily. I had cured

the old Negrito chief with it, and he was very grateful to me, and

presented me with some very fine arrows in return.

For some time past I had heard rumours of an extraordinary tribe of

Negritos who lived further back in the mountains, and were named

Buquils, and whose women were reported to have beards. Vic, whom

I always found to be most truthful in everything, and who rarely

exaggerated, declared it was true, and furthermore told me that

these Buquils had long smooth hair, which proved that they could not

have been Negritos. Besides, I learnt that they were quite a tall

people. Nowhere in the whole world is there such a diversity of races

as in the Philippines, and so it would be quite impossible even to

guess what they were. Vic had once seen some of them himself when they

came on a visit to the lower mountains. Though I thought the story,

as to the women having beards, a fable, I determined to visit them

before I left these mountains, and the old Negrito chief, who also told

me that the women really did have beards, offered to lend me some of

his people to carry my things. But one day Vic heard that his lather

was dying, and when I tried to cheer him up he sobbed in a mixture

of broken Spanish and English, "One thousand señoritas can get, one

thousand children can get, but lose one father more cannot get." On

this account I had to return to Florida Blanca, and besides we were

all very bad with constant attacks of fever, and in this village we

could at all events get bread, milk and eggs to recuperate us. The

American had left for a long holiday, so I managed to hire a small

house where I could sort my collections before returning to Manila,

where I intended catching a steamer for the south Philippines.

One day the village priest (a Filipino) called on me, and in course

of conversation we spoke about these Buquils. He was most emphatic

that it was true about the women having beards, and he also told me

that no Englishman, American or Spaniard had ever penetrated so far

back in the mountains as to reach their villages. When he had left I

thought it over, and decided to go and see them for myself, though I

was still suffering from fever. Vic, whose father had recovered from

his illness, declared his willingness to accompany me; in fact I knew

that he would never allow me to go without him. He was quite miserable

at the idea of our parting, which was close at hand. As luck would

have it, the day before we decided to start, Vic was down with fever

again, and the following day I was seized with it. Never before or

since have I been amongst so much fever as I was in this district. In

any case I had made up my mind to see these Buquils, but we had now

lost two days, and there was only just enough time left to get there

and back and to journey back to Manila and catch my steamer. The day

after my attack we started for the mountains once more at about two

p.m., my fever being still too bad for me to start earlier. It had

been very dry lately, with not a drop of rain and hardly a cloud to

be seen, but just as we were starting it came on to rain in torrents

and this meant that the rainy season had set in. It seemed as if the

very elements were against us, and even Vic seemed struck with our

various difficulties. I was sick and feverish, and my head felt like a

lump of lead, as I plodded mechanically along in the rain through the

tall wet grass. I felt no keenness to see these people at the time,

fever removes all that, but I had so got it into my head before the

fever that I must go at all hazards, that I felt somehow as if I was

obeying someone else. We passed my old residence a short way off, and

I stayed the night at the Negrito chief's hut, which I reached long

after dark. He seemed very glad to see me again, and turned out most

of his family and relations to make room for me. My troubles were not

yet ended, as the two Filipinos whom I had engaged to carry my food

and bedding could not start till late, and consequently lost their

way, and were discovered in the forest by some Negritos, who went in

search of them about 2 a.m. Meanwhile I had to lie on the hard ground

in my wet clothes, and as I got very cold a fresh attack of fever

resulted. I had intended to start off again about four a.m., but it

was fully four hours later before we were well on our way. I managed

to eat a little before I left, our rice and other food being cooked

in bamboo (the regular method of cooking amongst the Negritos). I here

noticed for the first time the method employed by the Negrito mothers

for giving their babies water; they fill their own mouths with water

from a bamboo, and the child drinks from its mother's mouth. In the

early morning thousands of metallic green and cream-coloured pigeons

and large green doves came to feed on the golden yellow fruit of a

species of fig tree (_Ficus_), which grew on the edge of the forest

near the chief's hut. They made a tremendous noise, fluttering and

squeaking as they fought over the tempting looking fruit.

We took five Negritos to carry the rice and my baggage--two men,

two women, and a boy. The women, though not much more than girls,

were apportioned the heaviest loads; the men saw to that, and looked

indignant when I made them reduce the girls' loads. As we continued

on our journey, I noticed that our five Negrito carriers were joined

by several others all well armed with bows and extra large bundles of

arrows, and on my asking Vic the reason, he told me that these Buquils

we were going to visit were very treacherous, and our Negritos would

never venture amongst them unless in a strong body. As we went along

the narrow track in single file some of the Negritos would suddenly

break forth into song or shouting, and as they would yell (as if in

answer to each other) all along the line, I could not help envying them

the extreme health and happiness which the very sound of it seemed to

express; my own head meanwhile feeling as if about to split. I shall

never forget that walk up and down the steepest tracks, where in some

places a slip would have meant a fall far down into a gorge below. If

Vic was to be believed, I was the first white man to try that track,

and I would not like to recommend it to any others. Deep ravines, that

if one could only have spanned with a bridge one could have crossed in

five minutes or less, took us fully an hour to go down and up again,

and I could never have got down some of them except for being able

to hang on to bushes, trees and long grass. Whenever we passed a

Negrito hut we took a short rest. My Negritos, however, wanted to

make it a long one, as they seemed to be very fond of yarning, and

when I insisted on their hurrying on, Vic got frightened and declared

they might clear out and leave us, which would certainly have been

a misfortune. At length we arrived at a chief's hut, where we had

arranged to spend the night. It was situated at the top of a tall,

grassy peak, from which I got a wonderful view of the surrounding

country: steep wooded gorges and precipices surrounded us on all

sides, and in the distance the flat country from whence we had come,

and far far away the sea looked like glistening silver. The flat

country presented an extraordinary contrast to the rugged mountains

which surrounded me. It was so wonderfully flat, not the smallest

hill to be seen anywhere, except where the lonely isolated peak of

Mount Aryat arose in the distance, and far away one could just see

a long chain of lofty mountains. The effect of the shadows of the

distant clouds on the flat country was very curious. Early the next

morning, at sunrise, the view looked very different, though just as

beautiful. The chief seemed very friendly. He was a brother of my old

friend, with whom I had stayed the previous night. This chief, however,

was very different to his brother, being very dignified, but he had

a very good and kind face, whilst my old friend was a "typical comic

opera" kind of character. From what I could understand these two and

another brother ruled over this tribe of Negritos between them, each

being chief of a third of the tribe Soon after my arrival I turned in,

as I was very tired and feverish and had had no sleep the previous

night. The Negritos, as usual, were very merry and made a great noise

for so small a people. I never saw such people for laughter whenever

anything amused them, which is very often; they were a great contrast

in this respect to the Filipinos. This natural gaiety helps to explain

their many and varied dances, one of which consists in their running

round after each other in a circle.

I felt very much better next morning, and we started off very early,

our numbers being increased by the chief and many of his men, so that

I now found myself escorted by quite an army. I took note round here

of the methods used by the Negritos in climbing tall, thick trees to

get fruit and birds-nests. They had long bamboo poles lashed together,

which run up to one of the highest branches fully one hundred feet

from the ground. They often fastened them to the branch of a smaller

tree, and thence slanting upwards to the top of a tall tree, perhaps

as much as sixty feet and more away from the smaller tree. These

Negritos axe splendid climbers, but it seemed wonderful for even a

Negrito to trust himself on one of these bamboos stretching like

a thread from tree to tree so far from the ground. I shall never

forget the scramble we now had into the deepest gorge of all, and

how we followed the bed of a dried-up stream, which in the rainy

season must be a series of cascades and waterfalls, since we had to

scramble all the way over large slippery boulders covered with ferns

and _begonias._ We at length came to a tempting-looking river full of

large pools of clear water, into which I longed to plunge. The banks

were extremely beautiful, being overhung by the forest, and the rocky

cliffs were half hidden by large fleshy-leaved climbers and many

other beautiful tropical plants. It was one of those indescribably

beautiful spots that one so often encounters in the tropical wilds,

and which it is impossible to paint in words. A troop of monkeys were

disporting themselves on a tree overhanging the river. Vic was most

anxious for me to allow him to shoot one, but I have only shot one

monkey in my life, and it is to be the last, and I always try and

prevent others from doing so. We waded the river in a shallow place,

and climbed up the steep hill on the other side. We had gone a good

distance over hills covered with tall grass, and I was now looking

forward to a bit of decent walking, as hitherto it had been nearly all

miserable scrambling work, and the Negritos told Vic that the worst was

now over. But we were approaching a hut, overhanging a rocky cliff,

when we heard the sound of angry voices and wailing above us, and we

soon perceived four Negritos (three men and a woman) approaching us. I

thought the old woman was mad; she was making more noise than all the

others put together, shouting and screaming in her fury. At first I

thought they might be hostile Negritos who resented our intrusion,

but they belonged to the tribe of the chief who was with me, and they

were soon talking to him in loud, excited voices. Our own party soon

got excited, too, and, as may be imagined, I was longing to find out

the cause of all this excitement. Vic soon told me the reason. It

appeared that on the previous day a large party of our Negritos had

gone into the territory of the Buquils in order to get various kinds

of forest produce (as they had often done in the past), and had been

treacherously attacked by these Buquils, and many of them killed. One

of these was the brother of a sub-chief, who now approached us, and

who was, I believe, the husband of the frenzied woman. It was a very

excitable scene that followed. I suppose one might call it a council

of war. It was a mystery to me where all the Negritos came from and

how they found us out; but they came in ones and twos till there was

a huge concourse of them present, all gathered round their chief and

squatting on the ground. About the only one who behaved sensibly

was my friend the chief. He spoke in a slow and dignified manner,

but the rest worked themselves up into a furious rage, and twanged

their bowstrings, and jumped about and fitted arrows to their bows,

and pointed them at inoffensive "papaya" trees, whilst two little

boys shot small arrows into the green and yellow fruit, seeming to

catch the fever from their elders. One man actually danced a kind of

war-dance on his own account, strutting about with his bow and arrow

pointed, and getting into all sorts of grotesque attitudes, moving

about with his legs stiffened, and pulling the most hideous faces,

till I was forced to laugh.

But it seemed to be no laughing matter for the Negritos. The old woman

beat them all; she did not want anyone to get in a word edgeways,

but screamed and yelled, almost foaming at the mouth, till I almost

expected to see her fall down in a fit. I never before witnessed such

a display of fury.

Vic kept me well advised as to the progress of the proceedings, and

it was eventually settled that each of the three brother chiefs were

to gather together three hundred fighting men, making nine hundred

altogether, and these in a few days' time were to go up and avenge

the deaths of their fellow tribesmen. From the enthusiasm displayed

amongst the little men, this was evidently carried unanimously,

but I noticed two young men sitting aloof from the rest of the

crowd and looking rather sullen and frightened, and as they did not

join in the general warlike demonstrations, it was evidently their

first fight. Here, however, I made Vic interrupt in order to draw

attention to myself. What Vic translated to me was to the effect that

it was out of the question for us to go on into the enemy's country,

which we should have reached in another two hours' walk. If we did

they would certainly kill us all by shooting arrows into us from the

long grass (in other words, we should fall into an ambush), and, in

fact, since they had killed some of this tribe they would kill anyone

that came into their country. By killing these men they had declared

war. This was the sum total of Vic's translation, and I saw at once

that it was out of the question for me to go on, as no Negrito would

go with me, and I could not go alone. In any case I should have been

killed. Vic told me that very few of these Buquils ever leave their

mountain valleys, and so most of them had never seen a Filipino, much

less a white man. And so I met with a very great disappointment, and

was forced to leave without proving whether or no the story of these

bearded women was a myth. Lately I heard a rumour that an American had

visited them and proved the story true. My disappointment may well be

imagined. I had come over the worst track I had ever travelled on in

spite of rain and fever, but I at once saw that all my labours were

in vain and that I could not surmount this last difficulty. But I was

lucky in one way. The chief told Vic that if we had gone yesterday we

should all have been killed, as without knowing anything about it,

we should have got there just after the fight. So for once fever

had done me a good turn, a "providencia," I think Vic called it,

as I should have reached my destination the previous day if I had

not been delayed by fever. Out of curiosity to see what the chief

would say, I told Vic to tell him that I would help him with my gun,

but the chief was ungrateful and contemptuous, saying that they

would shoot me before I could see to shoot them. Vic thought I was

serious, and said he would not go with me, and begged me not to go,

saying, in a mixture of English and Spanish, "What will your father,

your sister, and your brother say to me when Buquil arrow make you

dead?" Needless to say I was not keen on stalking Buquils who were

waiting for me with steel arrows in long grass, and, besides, if I

went with the gallant little nine hundred, I should miss my steamer. I

never heard the result of that fight, much as I should like to have

known it. After the meeting had dispersed, we returned to the river

and rested. I bathed and took a swim in a big, deep pool under a huge

tree, which was one mass of beautiful white flowers. I have never

enjoyed a swim more. Vic also took a wash, and to my great surprise

one of the Negritos proceeded to copy him, and as Vic soaped himself

the Negrito tried to do the same thing with a stone, with which he

succeeded in getting rid of a great deal of dirt. It surprised and

amused the other Negritos, both men and women, who jeered and roared

with laughter at the unusual spectacle of a Negrito washing himself.

I signed to them to give our boy carrier a wash, as he seemed the

noisiest of the party, and two men got hold of him to duck him, but

he seemed so terrified that I stopped them. The youngster evidently

hated me for the fright he had received, as later on when I made him a

present of a silver ten-cent piece to make up for his fright--this is

a very handsome present for a Negrito--he threw it on the ground and

stamped his foot in anger. The Negritos shot several fish and large

prawns with a special kind of long pointed arrow; these we ate with

our rice by the river side before returning. The night I stayed with

my old friend, the comic chief, I found him actually in tears and

much cut up at the idea of his two sons having to take part in the

fight. I suppose it was compulsory for them to fight, but it appeared

rather odd to me that a chief should object to his sons taking part

in a fight, as the Negritos are considered very plucky fighters. The

chief sent four Negritos to carry my things down to Florida Blanca. The

following day I started back to Manila, where I caught my steamer for

the southern Philippines. Vic was much distressed at my departure and

shed many tears as I said good-bye to him, his grief being such that

even a handsome tip could not assuage it.

PART IV

In the Jungles of Cannibal Papua.