so Lloyd and I concluded to remain on the ship, but Louis, more
venturesome, went on shore with Mr. Hird. They were nearly pitched into
the water as the boat struck on her side on the reef. The black boys
all went, with the seas breaking over them, to shove her off. The town
is described as most delightful; very neat, with one straight, sanded
thoroughfare bordered by curbstones; the houses with verandas, some of
the verandas with carved balustrades. The heat is very great. Louis sat
on the sofa in the missionary's house, the boat's crew lying on the
floor and being fed with dried clams strung on cocoanut-fibre sennit.
At the same time they were interviewed by the missionary himself, a
fine, bluff, rugged, grizzled Raratongan, universally respected. Two
old men asked for the news, giving theirs in return, their latest being
that Tahiti had been taken by the French; they added a rider that the
French were "humbug," which was refreshingly British. "One white man
he say Queen he dead?" queried one man anxiously. They were assured
that it was the Queen of Germany, and not Victoria. "Methought," said
Louis, "in petto, it was perhaps Queen Anne." They are all well up in
the royal family, and most loyal subjects, the island flying the Union
Jack. The only "white man" in the settlement was a Chinaman, dying
for curry-powder. It seemed impossible to get away without carrying
half the settlement with us, and even after we thought they were all
off, two young girls and a boy were discovered trying to stow away. We
returned to the first landing yet again, but by that time I was sound
asleep.
[Illustration: _Penrhyn Island_]
_8th._--Sighted Penrhyn at five o'clock, but did not attempt to go in
as it is an exceedingly dangerous passage, and the night was black,
with heavy squalls. Lloyd and I had to leave our sleeping place on
the after hatch and take refuge in the trade room where we slept on
the floor. In the morning I went to look up my wet pillows and mats.
Suddenly I heard a shout: "Mrs. Stevenson, don't move!" I stopped
short, hardly moving an eyelash, but curious to know the reason of
this command. I soon found out; the captain threw up one corner of a
large tarpaulin showing me the open hatch on the brink of which I was
standing. On the last voyage a seaman was terribly injured by falling
down the fore-hatch. He lay two hours insensible before he was reported
missing and a search made.
_9th._--We enter the lagoon very early in the morning; a most perilous
passage, the way through the reef seeming but little wider than the
ship itself; the captain calls it two ship widths. Our route, until we
dropped anchor, was studded with "horses' heads" as thick as raisins
in a pudding. There would be a rock just awash on either side of us, a
rock in front almost touching our bows, and a rock we had successfully
passed just behind us. We were all greatly excited and filled with
admiration for the beautiful way Captain Henry managed his ship. She
would twist to the right, to the left, dash forward--now fast, now
slow--like a performing horse doing its tricks. The native pilot was
on the masthead nearly mad with anxiety. It was the first he had had
to do with a steamer, and he was convinced that the _Janet_ was on
the point of destruction every moment. At last, quite worn out with
such breathless excitement, we came safely to anchor in front of the
village, a cluster of native houses gathered together on a narrow spit
of land, or rather coral. A big wave, a short time ago, washed over the
village from sea to sea. Our men are working hard getting out the boxes
for the shell we are to take in, and the mates are making new boxes,
hurrying as fast as their natures allow. There is quite a fleet of
pearling boats hanging about. One has just come in filled with natives;
the colours are enchanting: the opaline sea, the reds and blues of the
men's clothing, running from the brightest to the darkest shades, the
yellow boats wreathed with greenery, the lovely browns of the native
skin, with the brilliant sun and the luminous shadows. Boys are already
swimming out to the ship, resting on planks (bits of wreckage), their
clothes, tied in a bundle and hanging over their heads, dependent from
sticks. I can hear the voices of the girls and the clapping of their
hands as they sing and dance on the beach. I see a man hurrying along
a path, a little child with him and their black pig following like a
terrier. Sometimes piggy stops a moment to smell or root at the foot
of a palm, but always with a glance over his shoulder; if the distance
seems growing too wide between himself and his family, he rushes after
them, and for a moment or two trots soberly at his master's side.
After luncheon we went over to the village in one of the boats going
for shell, landing at the white trader's house. From the first, I had
been puzzled by a strange figure on the trader's veranda. When we were
nearer I discovered it to be the figurehead of a wrecked ship, a very
haughty lady in a magnificent costume. She held her head proudly in
the air and had a fine, hooked nose. All about the trader's house were
great piles of timber, and in one of the rooms a piano woefully out
of tune, and other signs of the wreck of a big ship. It was a timber
vessel, they told us, this last one, that went to pieces just outside
the reef. Numbers of houses are being built of the boards by the more
thrifty-minded of the islanders. One of the sailors cast ashore still
remains here, a gentle, soft-eyed youth from Edinburgh, now fairly on
the way to become a beach-comber. Fortunate lad! His future is assured;
no more hard work, no more nipping frosts and chilly winds; he will
live and die in dreamland, beloved and honoured and tenderly cared for
all the summer days of his life. He already speaks the native tongue,
not only fluently, but in the genteelest native manner, raising and
lowering his eyebrows in the most approved fashion as he whispers to
the elderly dames matter that is no doubt better left untranslated.
[Illustration: _Figurehead from a wrecked ship on the veranda of the
white trader's house, Penrhyn Island_]
When the figurehead came ashore people were terribly alarmed by the
appearance of the "white lady." The children are still frightened into
submission by threats of being handed over to her. The trader's wife
is a Manihiki woman, very neat and well-mannered; we drank cocoanuts
with her, and were introduced to the native missionary's daughter, an
enormously large, fat girl of thirteen, but looking twenty. I believe
her parents are from another island. Lloyd photographed the proud lady
with a lot of children and girls grouped round her, the soft-eyed
Scot familiarly leaning against her shoulder. The girls went through
an elaborate affectation of terror and had to be caught and dragged
to the place, whence, I believe, nothing could have dislodged them.
After this photography was finished we wandered through the village, a
large chattering crowd at our heels. This is the least prepossessing
population I have seen since Mariki, and I am assured they are no
better than they look. As we walked along I happened to pick up a
pretty little shell from the beach; the missionary's fat daughter
instantly gathered and pressed upon me four other shells, but as I
held them in my hand living claws projected from inside and pinched me
so that I cried out in alarm and threw them to the ground. Every one
laughed, naturally, but an impudent young man picked up and offered
me a worn aperculum, saying with a grin: "Buy; one pearl." "I could
not," I assured him with mock courtesy, "deprive you of so valuable
an ornament; tie it round your neck." This feeble jest seemed to be
understood and was greeted with shouts of laughter. The lad was cast
down for a moment, and fell behind; pretty soon he came forward again,
with a dog's bone. "Buy," he said; "very good; twenty pounds." "I could
not," I returned, "take from you a weapon so suitable to your courage."
Of course I used pantomime as well as speech. The other young men,
with shrieks of laughter, pretended to be terrified by his warlike
appearance, and he shrank away to annoy me no further. Several men and
women offered us very inferior pearls at the most preposterous prices,
at which Tin Jack and I jeered them, when the pearls were hidden
shamefacedly. They knew as well as we that their wares were worthless.
Lloyd and Louis planted their camera stand in the centre of the
village, and walked about to look for good points of view. While
they were away a serious-looking man delivered a lecture upon the
apparatus, to the evident edification and wonder of the crowd. During
his explanation he mimicked both Louis's and Lloyd's walk, showing how
Lloyd carried the camera, while Louis walked about looking round him.
I sat down on a log to wait, when immediately all the women and girls
seated themselves on the ground, making me the centre of a half circle
and gazing at me with hard, round eyes.
After the photography Louis and I went to call on the missionary.
He and his wife were at home, evidently expecting us. His wife is
enormously stout, with small features and an unpleasant expression;
the man rather sensible and superior-looking. A number of women and
the pilot who had brought us into the lagoon ranged themselves on
the floor in front of us. One of the ladies, a plain body, seeming
more intelligent than the rest, possessed a countenance capable of
expressing more indignation than one would think possible. She wished
to have our relationship explained to her. Louis and I were husband
and wife; this statement was received with a cry of anger, but at
the announcement that Lloyd was our son, she fairly howled; even
Lloyd's name seemed objectionable. About mine there was a good deal
of discussion, as they appeared to have heard it before. We drank
cocoanuts under the disapproving eye of the intelligent lady, and,
after receiving as a present a pearl-shell with a coral growth on its
side from the missionary's wife, and another, somewhat battered, from
his daughter, I gave, in return, the wreath from my hat and we departed.
Louis and Lloyd went back to the ship, but I remained, with Tin Jack,
to see the church. All but three little girls were too lazy to show
us the way; so, accompanied by the trio, we started on a broad path
of loose, drifting coral sand. The church was a good, substantial
structure of white coral, with benches and Bible rests, but there was
no attempt at decoration. The room was large enough to hold all the
inhabitants of the village twice over. As in most of the other islands,
being "missionary"--religious--goes by waves of fashion. In Penrhyn,
at any moment, the congregation may turn on the pastor and tell him
he must leave instantly, as they are tired of being missionary. They
have the "week of jubilee," which means the whole island goes on a
gigantic "spree," when Penrhyn is not a pleasant, or hardly a safe,
abiding-place. We stopped at the schoolhouse on the way back, a large,
ill-smelling room, containing for furniture one table with pearl-shell
disks let into the legs, standing on a dais. The only really neat house
was the trader's, and he had a Manihikian wife.
The laws of Penrhyn, some of them very comical, are stringently
enforced. There is no nonsense about "remain within your houses" here,
for, after nine o'clock, remain you must. Last night our cook was
shut into a house where he was paying a visit, and was not allowed
out until after the breakfast hour. There was also a rumour that Tin
Jack, being seen after curfew, had to run, the police after him, to
the house of the trader, where he remained until morning. Our sailors,
to-day, somehow offended the natives and came running back to the
ship pursued by a crowd. The children are much more prepossessing
than their parents, some of them, especially the little girls, being
quite pretty and well-behaved. It is much easier to restrain them and
keep them within bounds than if they were white children in similar
case. Every scrap of orange-peel thrown overboard was gathered up by
them to be converted into ornaments. A bit of peel cut into the shape
of a star, with a hole in the centre for the purpose, would be drawn
over the buttons of their shirts and gowns, while long strings were
worn hanging over the breast, or twined round the head and neck. The
trader's little half-caste boy was clad in the tiniest imaginable pair
of blue jeans, with a pink cotton shirt, and had little gold earrings
in his ears.
_10th._--None of our party cared to go on shore. I sent a chromo
representing a "domestic scene" to the trader's wife in return for
her present of a coral-grown shell. The shell I afterward gave to the
cook and another to the second steward, who, by this time, was almost
insane with excitement and pleasure. We had a very busy day receiving
shell and packing it in the wooden cases that are still being made on
the forward deck. The black sailors work extraordinarily well and with
perfect willingness and good nature. They make play of everything, and
in spite of their small stature and slender, elegant figures, handle
great weights with the utmost ease and dexterity. The little native
boys work as hard as any in helping pack the shell. One little naked
fellow of about ten, I was told, was deaf and dumb, but I should never
have guessed it.
As soon as there was a movement on the ship the young girls came
swimming out to us like a shoal of fish. The sea was dotted with the
black heads over which they held their parcel of clothes in one hand
to keep them dry, making their toilets on the lower rungs of the ship's
ladder. One girl would stand at the foot of the ladder where she
received the clothes of the newcomer; as the latter emerged dripping
from the sea her garment was dexterously dropped over her head, so that
she rose with the utmost decorum fully clad.
Louis soon had his particular following, some three or four little
girls eight or ten years of age. They made him sit down and then sang
to him. One of these children must have been the daughter of the
indignant lady we met at the missionary's house, for her powers of
expression were the same. She was, however, pleased to signify approval
of Loia (Lloyd). If Louis attempted to leave these small sirens he was
peremptorily ordered to resume his seat, and the singing redoubled in
vigour. They had shrill voices and sang not badly. Louis bought a tin
of "lollies" from the trade room and regaled his little maids on that
and plug tobacco. Oranges and biscuits were given to the people quite
freely, and the leavings from our table were continually passing about.
The cook said the contents of the swill-pail were eaten clean, pumpkin
rinds being a favourite morsel. Except for the "lollies," the little
girls generously divided with their friends, but the boys were more
selfish. One little fellow who had secured a whole pumpkin rind ran
about the deck with a wolfish terror, trying to find a hiding-place
where he could devour his prize safe from the importunities of his
mates.
Tin Jack, without my knowledge (I should have stopped him had I known)
donned the wig and beard and false nose; his appearance created a real
panic. One girl was with difficulty restrained from jumping overboard
from the high deck, and many were screaming and rushing about, their
eyes starting with terror; Louis's little girls ran to him and me and
clung to us. A fine, tall young woman kept up a bold front until Tin
Jack took hold of her, when she slipped through his hands, a limp heap
on the deck. I tried in vain to get near him to make him cease with his
cruel jest, but he was running among the frightened crowd, and I could
not make him hear me through the confusion and noise. The girl who
tried to jump overboard collapsed among some bags on top of the shell,
where, covering her face, she wept aloud. I climbed over to her and
soothed her, and tried to explain that it was not the devil but only
Tin Jack with a mask. The children were the first to recover from their
terror, soon recognising Tin Jack, either from his voice, or his walk,
or something that marked his individuality, for in the afternoon they
returned to the ship, fetching other children, and boldly demanded that
these, too, should be shown the foreign devil. All evil spirits, and
there are many in Penrhyn, are called devils.
Speaking about the superstitions of Penrhyn, Mr. Hird recalls the
following grisly incident that occurred when he was stopping on the
island. A man who was paralysed on one side had a convulsion which
caused spasmodic contractions on the other side. One of the sick man's
family began at once to make a coffin. "But the man's not dead," said
Mr. Hird. "Oh yes," was the reply; "he's dead enough; it's the third
time he has done this, so we are going to bury him." Mr. Hird went to
the native missionary, but his remonstrances had no effect; he kept on
protesting until the last moment. "Why look," he said, "the man's limbs
are quivering." "Oh that's only live flesh," was the reply, and some
one fell to pommelling the poor wretch to quiet the "live flesh." The
belief was that the man's spirit had departed long before and a devil
who wished to use the body for his own convenience had been keeping the
flesh alive. Mr. Hird thinks that the man was insensible when buried
and must soon have died.
[Illustration: _The "Janet Nichol" at anchor off Penrhyn Island_]
At another time some natives had been "waking" a corpse; tired out,
they all fell asleep except a single man who acted as "watcher." By
and by he, too, dropped off. The party were awakened by a great noise.
The watcher explained that he had been napping and suddenly opened his
eyes to behold the dead man sitting up. "A corpse sitting up just like
this!" he exclaimed indignantly; "but I was equal to him; I ran at him
and knocked him down, and now he's decently quiet again." And so he
was, dead as a door-nail from the blow he had received.
Another thing Mr. Hird saw in Penrhyn. A very excellent man, but a
strict disciplinarian, died and his family were sore troubled by the
appearance of his ghost. They had suffered enough from his severity
during his lifetime, and were terrified lest his spirit had returned to
keep them up to the standard he had marked out for them. The day after
the apparition was seen, the grave was opened, the body taken out, and
the hole deepened till they came to water; the corpse was then turned
over in the coffin and reburied face down.
At about five o'clock we weighed anchor and went through the exciting
ordeal of the passage out of the lagoon, taking with us as passengers
to Manihiki a woman and her two children. After we were quite away,
outside the lagoon, a boat came after us with a quantity of timber from
the wreck; this extra and unexpected work of taking the timber on board
and stowing it away, instead of being received with grumbling by our
black boys, was taken as gleefully as though it were a pleasant game of
their own choosing.
The passengers slept on the after hatch with us. The baby cried in
the night, and the mother quieted it by clapping her hands, yawning,
meanwhile, with a great noise like the snarling of a wild beast;
consequently I did not sleep well. For the first time the wind is aft
and the ship very airless and close.
_11th._--The captain's eyes, which have been dreadfully inflamed, are
much better, thanks to an eye lotion from Swan, the chemist at Fiji,
that we had in our medicine-chest.
In the evening, about nine, we made Manihiki. Mr. Henderson burned a
blue light which was answered by bonfires on shore. We did not anchor,
but lay off and on, as we were only to stay long enough to land our
passengers. Louis wished to go on shore with the boat, but as it did
not get off until ten he gave it up and went to bed. I made up a
little parcel for him to send to Fani, and Mr. Hird carried it to her,
a few sweeties carefully folded up in a Japanese paper napkin and tied
with a bright-green ribbon. The child was in bed and asleep, but waked
to receive her parcel which she resolutely declined to open until the
next day, though earnestly persuaded by the whole family to let them
have a peep inside. She appealed to Mr. Hird, who upheld her decision,
so she returned to her mat and fell asleep holding her present in her
hands.
I am trying to paint a small portrait of Tin Jack, who is a beautiful
creature, but during the reluctant moments he poses he sits with his
back toward me, his eye fixed on the clock, counting the minutes
until his release. We took from the island a man, woman, and boy for
Suwarrow, our next stopping-place. Mr. Hird had a singular dream, or
rather vision, of the white trader in Suwarrow lying dead and ready for
burial. He was so impressed by this that he took note of the time and
feels very anxious.
_13th._--I awoke at six, after a night's struggle with my mats, which
the wind nearly wrested from me several times, to find we are just
off Suwarrow. At breakfast Captain Henry presented me with a gorgeous
hibiscus flower and Mr. Henderson laid beside my plate a couple of
bananas and a vi-apple, products of the island. At present there are
only six people living on Suwarrow; our three passengers, counting the
boy, will make nine.
I went on deck to look at the island and was told that the flag was
at half-mast. Sure enough, the trader was dead; the date of his death
tallied with that of Mr. Hird's vision. The poor fellow was most
anxious to be relieved the last time the ship was here, wherefore one
of the native passengers was brought to take his place. A neat white
paling fence enclosed the grave. I asked from what disease he died.
"Sickness in here," was the answer, indicating the liver; "a long time
he no stand up; all the time lie down. Pain--cry out--cry out--then
die."
Suwarrow and its attendant isles have been planted in cocoanuts by Mr.
Henderson. A few pandanus are here and there and more varieties of
small weeds than is usual in low islands. There is, also, a great deal
of fine, feathery grass, worthless, unfortunately, for feeding animals.
Mr. Henderson tried goats upon it, and sheep, also, I believe; they ate
the grass greedily but did not thrive, and soon dwindled and died. It
was found, on examination, that the grass did not digest but remained
in balls in the intestines. The cocoanuts, though most of them were
planted eight years ago, do not bear very heavily; Mr. Henderson thinks
they were not planted deep enough. He says they should be planted
four feet under the soil, the sprouts being about five feet high.
Bananas planted in imported earth are growing well, and some have taken
kindly to the native soil; also chilli peppers from the high islands.
Vi-trees are in full bearing, the hibiscus is gaudy with blossoms,
and cotton-plants, not indigenous, but now become wild, flourish
luxuriantly.
Suwarrow at some former period must have been a thriving and important
settlement. One has the feeling that stirring events have happened here
and that its history should be wild and romantic. At present it is
very like the desert stronghold of a pirate. The pier is a very fine
one and must have cost much money and labour; a number of houses are
clustered near it, giving at first sight the impression of a village;
there are beacons to guide the mariner and a "lookout" on the opposite
side of the island. Turtles are caught occasionally, and large crabs
and excellent fish. There are also birds, very good eating, and in the
season innumerable eggs of a fine flavour may be gathered. One bird,
no larger than a dove, lays an egg as big as a hen's, out of all
proportion to her size.
I first walked over to the weather side; here I found it delightfully
cool, but the tide was high, forcing me to the shingle, so I returned,
marking on the way a fine, clear pool where I mean to have a bath
to-morrow. The room where I am writing looks as though it were meant
for a church or a schoolhouse; but of course that is only conjecture.
It is a large room, long and narrow, with double doors at each side,
a single door at one end, and four unglazed windows. The windows are
protected by foot-wide slats arranged to move up and down like Venetian
blinds; both doors and slats are painted green. The roof, open to the
peak, is neatly thatched with either pandanus or cocoanut leaves, I
am not sure which. A table, originally very sturdy, but now fallen
into the rickets, holds the dead man's books: "Chetwynd Calverly" by
W. Harrison Ainsworth, "The Mystery of Orcival," by Gaboriau, and an
advertisement book about next of kin. Behind the table is a cotton-gin,
the "Magnolia," with a picture of the flower indifferently well done
on its front. I sat awhile on one of the two wooden benches that help
furnish the room and studied the walls, over which are scrawled names:
Etelea, Mitemago, Saviti, Patawe, Polohiu, Atolioinine, Salhisi, Kari,
Fuehau, Laku, Mitima, Paopave, Munokoa, and many others.