CONDITIONS OF LIFE ON THE ISLAND
Easter is a volcanic land, and in the earliest days of the world’s
history great lights and flowing lava must have gleamed across the
expanse of water, then gradually lessened and died away, leaving their
work to be moulded by wind and tide. The island, as the forces of nature
have thus made it, is triangular in shape and curiously symmetrical. The
length of the base—that is, of the south, or strictly speaking
south-east, coast—is about thirteen miles, and the greatest width about
seven miles; the circumference, roughly speaking, is thirty-four miles.
The apex, which is the highest ground, is a volcano over 1,700 feet in
height whose summit is formed of a cluster of small craters; the eastern
and western angles are each composed of a large extinct volcano. The
place is geologically young, and the mountains, in contrast to those of
Juan Fernandez, still preserve their original rounded shape; there are
no ravines, no wooded precipices, no inaccessible heights, but round the
whole coast erosion is at work, with the result that, while on the land
side the slopes of all these three mountains are gradual, on the sea
side—that is, in portions of the north, east, and west coasts
respectively—they have been worn back by the power of the waves into
imposing cliffs. In the lower districts the sheets of lava form a shore
line of some 50 to 100 feet in height, and extend into the sea in black,
broken ridges. Against this coast of alternating high cliffs and jagged
rocks the swell of the Pacific is always dashing, and in a high wind
clouds of white spray first hide, and then reveal, the inhospitable
shore.
The comparatively level and low-lying regions of the island, namely,
those which are not covered by the three great volcanoes, consist of the
south coast, and of two tracts which run across the island on either
side. The high ground which forms the apex of the triangle is thus
divided from that of the eastern and western angles respectively.
Another level strip, some quarter of a mile wide at its broadest, lies
in an elevated and romantic position around the northern apex between
the highest portion of the central mountain and the precipitous
sea-cliff. This distribution of the level ground is, as will be later
seen, reflected in the disposition of the various clans which formerly
spread over the island (fig. 91).
In addition to the three large mountains, there are smaller elevations
some hundreds of feet in height, generally in the form of cones with
craters distinctly visible. These lesser volcanoes, with one or two
exceptions, may be roughly said to lie in two lines which radiate
irregularly from the northern eminence, spreading out from it like
fingers and pointing respectively to the east and west ends of the south
coast. The hills, which may be termed the root of the fingers, form part
of the high ground, while those equivalent to the tips rise out of the
low-lying portion, where the east and west transverse belts join the
southern plain.
In some instances the crater of a mountain has become a lake: when this
is the case the term “rano” is prefixed to its name. It is quaintly told
that one visitor, considering the volcanic origin, hazarded the
suggestion that “rano” was equivalent to fire, to which the natives
indignantly replied that, on the contrary, it meant water. These lakes
are almost the only water-supply of the island: there is a good
rainfall, but no single running stream. Owing to the porous nature of
the ground the water sinks beneath the surface, sometimes forming
underground channels from which it flows into the sea below high-water
mark: thus giving rise to the curious statement of early voyagers that
the natives were able to drink salt water[12] (fig. 124). The lower
portions of the island are composed of sheets of lava, in process of
disintegration, across which walking is almost impossible and riding a
very slow process; the surface of the mountains and hills is smoother,
being volcanic ash. The whole is covered with grass, which sprouts up
between the masses of lava and gives the hills a delightful down-like
appearance. Forest growth has probably never consisted of more than
brushwood and shrubs, and to-day even those have disappeared.
The best panorama of the island is obtained from the western volcano, by
name Rano Kao (fig. 24). Below on the left lies Cook’s Bay, with
Mataveri and the village of Hanga Roa, and beyond them the high bleak
central ground of the island, generally known by the name of one of its
craters, Rano Aroi. On the right is the plain of the south coast,
culminating in the eastern headland, a district the greater part of
which is known as Poike. Just in front of the headland can be seen the
two peaks of the mountain of Rano Raraku, from which the statues were
hewn and which is the most interesting place in the island; while on a
clear day there can be obtained a glimpse of the northern coast and the
sea beyond.
Such is Easter Island. It bears no resemblance to the ideal lotus-eating
lands of the Pacific; rather, with its bleak grass-grown surface, its
wild rocks and restless ocean, it recalls some of the Scilly Isles or
the coast of Cornwall. It is not a beautiful country nor even a striking
one, but it has a fascination of its own. All portions of it are
accessible; from every part are seen marvellous views of rolling
country; everywhere is the wind of heaven; around and above all are
boundless sea and sky, infinite space and a great silence. The dweller
there is ever listening for he knows not what, feeling unconsciously
that he is in the antechamber to something yet more vast which is just
beyond his ken.
The objects of antiquarian interest proved to be widely scattered. The
statues have originally stood on a particular kind of burial-place,
generally known as a “terrace” or “platform.” These terraces surround
the whole coast, and each one had of course to be studied. For those at
the western end, and for certain stone remains on the volcano of Rano
Kao, Mataveri was a most convenient centre; but the distance from there
to the places of interest at the other end of the island was unduly
great. We therefore decided to avail ourselves of the offer of the
Manager and remain for a while at his establishment, where _Mana_ left
us, and later move camp. Survey and photography had of course to keep
pace with research, and a general look-out to be kept for any caves
which it might pay to explore. There was also the question of getting
into touch with the natives and finding if any lore existed which threw
light on the antiquities: this last, from what we had been told in
England, was not a very hopeful quest; anyway, it seemed wiser to defer
it for the moment till we knew something of the language and were more
at home in our surroundings.
The Manager’s house has six rooms, three of which are at the front, and
three, having a separate entrance, at the back. These last, with a most
useful attic, Mr. Edmunds kindly put at our disposal, and we
supplemented the accommodation with tents pitched in the grounds. My own
tent, for the sake of quietness, was on the western side of the
plantation, about a hundred yards from the house. S. used to escort me
down at night, with a camp lantern, by a little track through the
eucalyptus trees, see that all was well, put down the light, and leave
me with the mystery of the island. The site was one dedicated to
cannibal feasts; immediately behind was the hillock with the grave of
the murdered manager; while not far away the waves thundered against the
cliffs, making in stormy weather the ground tremble as if with an
earthquake. In the morning came the glory of the waking, of being at
once _tête à tête_ with air, sunshine, and dewy grass: to those who have
not known the wonder of these things, it cannot be explained; to those
who have experienced it, no words are needed.
Tent life is not all “beer and skittles”; Easter is too windy for an
ideal camping-ground; my pitch was sheltered, but even so it seemed at
times as if the structure would be carried away bodily. To preserve a
tent in place taut ropes are needed, but if rain descends these shrink,
and either burst with the strain or tear the pegs out of the ground: the
conscientious dweller under canvas will, under these conditions, arise
from his warm bed, and in the pouring deluge race round the tent,
slacking off the said ropes. Mine, like the stripes of St. Paul,
numbered forty save one. Before the end we were able to make different
arrangements.
When we had been some three and a half months at Mataveri—that is, in
the middle of July 1914—we felt that the time had come to begin work on
the other end of the island. It must be remembered that our original
idea was that six months would probably suffice for the whole inquiry,
and in any case we had no intention of staying beyond the period which
would allow of _Mana’s_ making a second trip to Chile.
We therefore established ourselves at Rano Raraku as the most convenient
site. It takes about two hours to ride there from Mataveri. The road is
made, like all those in the island, by simply clearing away the stones,
but it is wide enough to permit the passage of a wagon. It leads first
across the island by the western transverse plain till, at Vaihu, the
sea is reached, then runs along the south coast with its low rocks and
continuous line of breaking surf. Every step of this part of the way is
marked, for those who have eyes to see, with ruined burial-places; many
of them strewn with the remains of the statues which have once been
erected upon them. As Raraku is approached, there lie by the roadside
isolated figures of portentous size, abandoned, it has been thought, in
the act of removal from the quarries to the terraces. We grew to know by
heart this road, which led from what we termed our “town establishment,”
to our “country house,” and have ridden it, together or separately, at
all hours and in every weather. We were not infrequently detained by
business, at one end or the other, till too late to save the daylight,
and after dark it was not easy to keep to the track, even with the help
afforded by the sound of the breakers. Our ponies gave us no assistance
in the difficulty, for as foals they had run wild with their mothers,
and were, therefore, equally happy wandering off among the fields of
broken lava. As the “twilight of the dove” gradually changed to the
“twilight of the raven,” and the huge figures loomed larger than ever in
the gathering gloom, it seemed that, if ever the spirits of the departed
revisit their ancient haunts, the ghosts of the old image-makers must be
all abroad about their works and places of burial.
Rano Raraku (fig. 45) stands by itself where the flat ground of the
southern coast meets the eastern transverse plain, and forms the
isolated tip of those lesser volcanoes which have been described as the
eastern finger. About a mile to the eastward rises the high ground of
Poike. Raraku scarcely deserves the name of mountain, being little more
than a basin containing a crater lake; yet it curiously dominates the
scene. There will be much to tell of it hereafter; for the moment
suffice it to say that a large number of statues stand on its lower
slopes, while above are the quarries from which, with very few
exceptions, all the figures in the island have been obtained. The side
nearest the sea is a sheer cliff, the extremities of which form the two
peaks which are so characteristic of the mountain. Beneath the cliff is
a flow of lava; here the French carpenter had managed to put up two iron
huts which had been sent ahead from England; one was a store, the other
formed my one-roomed villa residence. Their erection was somewhat of a
triumph, as all the bolts had been stolen on the way. The rest of the
camp, the tent for meals, that of S., and those for the servants, were
pitched for protection about 50 feet lower down, on the further side of
the lava flow; but even here, owing to the tearing wind which howled
round the mountain, their canvas flies had to be tied back and walls
erected around them (fig. 73). On every hand were the remains of native
life prior to the removal of the inhabitants to Hanga Roa, the most
welcome being a single well-grown tree of the sort known in tropical
countries as the “umbrella tree.” It was the only example of its kind on
the island, and was of an age that suggested it had been planted by the
early missionaries.
The whole situation was not only one of striking beauty, but brought
with it an indescribable sense of solemnity. Immediately above the camp
towered the majestic cliff of Raraku, near at hand were its mysterious
quarries and still erect statues; on the coast below us, quiet and
still, lay the overturned images of the great platform of Tongariki, one
fragment of which alone remains on its base, as a silent witness to the
glory which has departed. The scene was most wonderful of all when the
full moon made a track of light over the sea, against which the black
mass of the terrace and the outline of the standing fragment were
sharply defined; while the white beams turned the waving grass into
shimmering silver and lit up every crevice in the mountain above.
Easter Island lies in the sub-tropics, and, if the question of wind be
eliminated, the climate is as near perfection as possible in this world.
There may be, especially in the winter months, a spell of three or four
days of rain, or a wind from the Antarctic, when woollen clothes are
welcome; and occasionally, in the summer, it is preferable to be indoors
during the noontide hours; but with these exceptions, it is one of those
rare localities where it is possible to be warm the whole year round,
and yet to utilise to the full the hours of daylight. There are, as
might be expected, too many insects; cockroaches abound, out of doors
and under statues as well as in houses and tents; when things were very
bad they might even be seen on the dinner-table. I was calmly told, with
masculine insensibility, that “if I had not naturally a taste for such
things, the sooner that I acquired it the better”; the only consolation
was that they were of a handsome red variety and not shiny black. Flies
also are numerous; I have counted two hundred in a bowl of soapy water,
and six or eight at once on my hand while busy writing; “their tameness
was shocking to me.” Mosquitoes, which have been imported, varied in
their attentions; when they were at their worst it was necessary to wear
head-gear and dine in gloves. There is said to be no fever in the
islands; we had two or three attacks, but it may have been “original
sin.” Once we had a plague of little white moths, and occasionally, for
a short while, visitations of a small flying beetle, whose instinct
seemed to be to crawl into everything, making it safer to stuff one’s
ears with cotton-wool. On these occasions dinner had to be put earlier,
owing to Bailey’s pathetic complaint that, with a lamp burning in the
kitchen, business was rendered impossible from the crowds which
committed suicide in the soup.
The lack of firewood was met by using oil; when, later, we had to
economise in that commodity, it was supplemented by collecting dried
manure. The natives use brushwood or anything they can pick up; their
manner of cooking, which is after Polynesian fashion by heating stones
placed in the earth, requires very little fuel. The water difficulty was
ever present. At the Mataveri establishment the supply collected from
the roof was generally sufficient; we arrived, however, in a dry spell,
and one morning the request for water was met by the information that
the “tank was empty”; even _Mana_, one felt, had never fallen quite so
low. It was consoling to be informed that “clothes could always be
washed in the crater,” a climb of 1,300 feet. At our Raraku camp all the
water, except that which could be collected on the roof of a tin hut,
had to be fetched from the crater lake; this rendered us tiresomely
dependent on getting native labour. The rain-clouds are often
intercepted by the high grounds at the south-western end of the island,
in a manner which is most tantalising to the dweller in the eastern, if
supplies happen to be low.
The ranch supported at this time about 12,000 sheep, 2,000 head of
cattle, and other livestock; we were generously supplied with milk and
could purchase any quantity of mutton: beef was not often killed for so
small a party. Chickens of a lean species were sometimes available.
_Mana_ later brought Mr. Edmunds some turkeys which did well. Bananas
were useful, when in season. Fig-trees thrive, and we had a lavish and
most acceptable supply at Raraku of this fruit from those planted by the
natives prior to their removal to Hanga Roa. Vegetables were scarce, as
the Manager took no interest in his garden, owing to the depredations of
the natives, and we had no time for their cultivation. Groceries had, of
course, been brought with us, and on our arrival they were deposited in
the locked and strongly built wool-shed at Hanga Piko, a small boat
landing between Hanga Roa and Mataveri. Housekeeping was a much easier
business than on the yacht, but S.’s share of practical work was
considerably greater, for, beside the initial camp-pitching, all tent or
kitchen gear that went wrong and every lamp which would not burn made
demands on his time. In his department also came the stud; we had been
kindly provided with some of the island ponies, of which there are about
five hundred; as export is impossible, the value of each animal is put
at 5s. When not in use the steeds were put out to graze as best they
might; and in addition to the care of the saddlery, every tethering rope
which chafed through against the stones was brought for repair to the
head of the Expedition. In judging of scientific work under such
conditions, it must always be borne in mind how many hours and days are
thus inevitably consumed in practical labour.
There was, luckily for us, the one skilled workman on the island, the
French carpenter who had made his way from New Caledonia; his name was
Vincent, but he answered to the appellation of “Varta” (the figure in
fig. 37); the difficulty was to obtain his services as he was constantly
employed on the estate. One of our few retainers, Mahanga (fig. 89), was
not a native of Easter, but had come from the Paumotu Islands; he served
faithfully for many months, the goal in view being the possession of one
of the tin huts, which passed into his keeping when we left the island.
It was related that having been at one time afflicted with some skin
disease, he had taken the heroic remedy of plunging into a vat in which
the sheep were being dipped, with painful but beneficial results. The
native girls make quite tolerable servants, and I was fortunate in never
being without one (fig. 29). They take a keen interest in their own
clothes and some of them are surprisingly good needlewomen; in some of
the houses there are even sewing-machines. But to obtain labour, whether
for camp work or excavation, was always difficult, and for a while
circumstances rendered it almost impossible.