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0TS '2-'2- 

Moulton Library 

Bangor Theologioai Seminary J 

Presented by 
The Rev. Robert 

va/.B. CLARKE Pr>'1 



shore."— W. B. YEATS. 

"go 'little book and wish to all 
Flowers in the garden, meat in the hall." 

— R. L. STEVENSON in "Underwoods." 


From a Photo by Di. Chanmn 














;ME Lib- 
state HOUSE t^S 

JAN ^90 

to, r {^CL.-) 


C5 3c 


K.C, M. G. 











PREFACE ........ IX 








PONAPE ....... 50 








X. STAY ON LELE ....... 154 


















(?) YAP GODS .... 













great central vault, nan-tauach 

breakwater at nan-moluchai 

the haunted island of pan-katara 

inner angle of great outer wall, nan-tauach . 

king paul's big canoe .... 

south side of inner enclosure, nan-tauach 

n.-e. angle of inner court, nan-tauach . 

n.-e. angle of outer wall, nan-tauach . 

s.-w. shoulder of inner line of wall, nan-tauach 

relics of old sea-wall, nakap island 

ponatik chief 

the beach at lot 

nanaua, nephew of king rocha 

a ponapean canoe 

carved dancing paddles 

pilung adolol, a chief of rul 

ponapean house 

landing-place, lele harbour 

kusaian bags . 












































I 5 8 
2 S 8 














THE period between the years 1890 and 1893 in 
Samoa was marked by civil war between the rival 
factions of Malietoa and Matafa, ending, as all the world 
knows, in the overthrow and deportation of the latter chief. 
A partisan feeling in the struggle, shared by me with Robert 
Louis Stevenson, my neighbour of Vailima, resulted in 
the extension of an intimacy with the Samoan people and 
their chiefs. It sprung, naturally enough, in the first place, 
from the interest I had always taken in their sports, and the 
assistance I was happy to afford them by distributing medi- 
cines in the outer districts during the epidemics of measles 
and influenza which unhappily carried off so many of the 
natives during these years. A keen interest in philology 
and kindred subjects (especially in connection with the 
Malayo-Polynesian peoples), dating from my college days 
and encouraged by the sympathetic counsels of the late 
Master of Balliol, could not well fail to take an active form 
under the stirring influence of the genial author of " A 
Footnote to History." 

I entered fully into the romance of reef and palm, 
but a sense of work to be done banished effectually all 
thoughts of the do Ice far niente so generally identified 
with the life of a settler in these isles of Eden. Deem- 
ing idleness a thing unrighteous, I spent three years 
in cultivating economic plants, mostly of the Eucalyptus 
order, for distribution amongst the natives. Supplies of 
seeds for this purpose were regularly sent me by the 
Forest Department of New South Wales, in return for 
which I consigned seed-packets of native trees and plants. 
Subsequently I disposed of my land to Stevenson, and on 
his advice, after election as a corresponding member of the 
Polynesian Society of New Zealand, I went further afield 
into Eastern Polynesia, where a somewhat lengthy stay in 


Tahiti and the North and South Marquesas gave me a 
wider knowledge and a deeper interest in the customs, 
language and legends of the attractive people of these 
islands, now, alas ! fast disappearing. 

Nor did my journeyings end here, for on my return to 
Sydney I met Louis Becke, the well-known writer of tales 
of the Pacific, who told me of an ancient island Venice 
shrouded in jungle, an enchanted region of archaeology far 
away in the Sea of Small Islands, termed Micronesia by 
geographers. His theme was the story of a strange people 
scattered up and down the lonely atolls of the great Caroline 
archipelago, folk of a strange outlandish tongue, that pro- 
mised rich results to the student of folk-lore and philology. 
It is of this people and this region that my story deals, and 
I must here say that even in this remote corner of the globe 
I found not virgin soil — a German had been there before 
me, an emissary of the firm of Godeffroy Bros, of Ham- 
burg, by name J. S. Kubary. At the time I met him, he 
was engaged in collecting land-shells and specimens of 
birds (one species of ground-pigeon, a Phlegcenas, bears 
his name); and had already — in 1872 — explored the 
mysterious island-city on the east coast of Ponape. To 
him I am indebted for the loan of his plan of the Metalanim 
ruins, of which I have availed myself, making a good many 
corrections in the names and a few in the charting of the 
island labyrinth, at the same time supplementing his ac- 
count by the information given by the natives of the 
district and by an old American settler and his sons who 
accompanied me on my second and third visits to the 
spot. To many others, both native and European, I am 
deeply indebted for much valuable assistance, and their 
names occur more than once in the course of the story 
which I will not anticipate here. 1 

Before my first visit to Metalanim, Kubary promised to 
give me a full account later, so that I could have the 

1 Five interesting views of Yap Island have been very kindly supplied me 
by Admiral Cyprian Bridge, who visited these seas about 1884 in H.M.S. 


satisfaction of working independently ; and on my return 
we had many interesting discussions together. Soon after 
my departure from Ponape in 1896, I received a letter at 
Yap telling me of Kubary's death, which occurred only 
two days after I had left, under very sad circumstances. 

Those who would do work in Micronesian waters might 
well take example from the unobtrusive, painstaking work 
of this true man of science. 

For many years in these remote lands he devoted a 
grand and tireless energy to clearing up problems which 
have troubled so many European scientists who, from an 
arm-chair in their studies at home, are sometimes inclined 
to settle offhand, with a few indifferent strokes of the pen, 
questions the weight of which they have only tested with 
a crooked finger. Only too often, those who have borne 
the burden on their shoulders are pushed aside into un- 
thanked oblivion. Those can sympathise best who have 
endured the scorching heats of the Line, the inclement 
rain-torrents of the wet season, fever and bad food, thirst 
and sleeplessness, the opposition of superstitious natives 
abroad and the indifference of men at home, such measure 
as the world metes out to the man who ventures to seek 
out new facts or new methods of arranging facts. Such 
men as Kubary during their life receive scant thanks, but 
their praise should be a grateful duty to all who honour 
pluck and enterprise. And though Kubary be no country- 
man of ours, Science knows no such narrow boundaries, 
such slender distinctions as race or birth-land, and bids us 
render honour to one of her most faithful servants whom 
the evil day found girt and harnessed to his task. 

All honour to German scientists for their work in 
Pacific waters. And shall we, the English, sit by and 
dream whilst others are up and doing ? 

F. W. C. 

[Since these lines were in type Germany has taken over the Carolines for a 
sum of ^800,000. It will be most interesting to see how she will develop the 
resources of these strange new lands, her latest acquisition.] 


MR CHRISTIAN'S reason for asking me to prepare 
an Introduction to his account of his experiences 
and investigations in the Caroline Islands was, no doubt, 
his knowledge of the fact that I happen to be one of the 
few people who have visited those islands and who are at 
this moment in England. It should be stated at once 
that I fully understand how very slender a qualification 
that is for undertaking the task which I have been 
requested to perform. Indeed, so fully is this understood, 
that a real reluctance to give any cause for being suspected 
of a desire to pose as an authority on the subjects dealt 
with by Mr Christian, was only overcome on its being 
made apparent that a short preliminary discussion in 
general terms, whilst it might not strengthen what he had 
to say, would at the least not weaken it, although readers 
will be likely to note the contrast between his prolonged 
residence and deliberate inquiries in the places described 
and my own more hurried visits and superficial observa- 
tion. It is true that I have been to a large number of 
South Sea Islands, and it follows, almost as a matter of 
course, that the visit to each was a short one. 

My service on, as we call it in the Navy, the Pacific 
Station, dates back to 1855 ; ar >d that on the Australian 
Station — within the limits of which most of the South 
Sea Islands lie — dates from 1859. On the latter station 
I have served three times, and my most extended South 
Sea cruises took place when I was a Captain in command 
of one of H.M. ships, in the years 1882, 1883, and 1884. 
Much of the water traversed was then imperfectly surveyed 
or entirely unsurveyed ; the natives of many islands were 
not friendly and had little knowledge of white men, and 
A * 


the older " Labour Trade " was still being carried on. In 
such circumstances a captain of a man-of-war had a great 
deal too much to do to find any considerable amount of 
time at his disposal to devote to subjects even as fascinat- 
ing as the ethnology, the botany, or the zoology of the 
archipelagos visited, had he, indeed, possessed the 
requisite preliminary training. I paid two later visits 
to the South Seas, when in command of the Australian 
Station in 1895 and 1896. The cruise of the former year 
embraced several different groups and many islands, some 
of which were new to me. It was not possible, however, 
to get as far as the Carolines, and therefore my knowledge 
of that group is not nearly so recent as Mr Christian's. 
I owe an apology to anyone who may read this for 
dwelling in this way on what may seem personal matters, 
but it is desirable that the reader should know the real 
extent of the qualifications of the person who has con- 
sented to address him. 

Before leaving this subject altogether it may be 
permissible to make a statement likely to have a wider 
than a mere personal interest. During the last two cruises 
mentioned the officers and men of the ship were received, 
at every place at which we called, by the islanders — of 
every stage of culture, from perfectly naked savagery to 
Church membership — and by white men, when there were 
any, with every demonstration of delight. Considering 
that an important part of the duty of the squadron on the 
station is to keep order in these out-of-the-way regions 
and to engage in punitive expeditions against offending 
tribes, it may be fairly claimed for the officers and men of 
H.M. ships so employed during many years that such a 
reception proves that they must have performed the ardu- 
ous duties in question with a thoroughness and at the same 
time a moderation in the highest degree creditable to 
them. No apology is offered for making this statement 
here. It is largely action such as has been just indicated 
that has made it possible for travellers like Mr Christian 


to move about many of the archipelagos of the Pacific 
Ocean with the freedom necessary to enable them to carry 
on their investigations. Moreover, as these parts of the 
world lie far beyond the " sphere of influence " of the war 
correspondent, nothing is known at home of the many 
displays of devotion and gallantry which have been the 
indispensable precursors of a state of affairs in which some 
of the fiercest savages in the world have become the trust- 
worthy entertainers of peaceful men of science. 

The friendly intercourse of naval officers and blue- 
jackets with the islanders has been greatly assisted by 
the deep and wide-spread respect of the latter for the 
Queen. Her Majesty's name has been made known to 
many of them by the missionaries ; but I came across 
cases in which the knowledge must have been derived from 
others. On one of the Louisiades, where the people were 
so little used to white men fourteen years ago that they 
were frightened by the striking of a match, and put to 
flight by the report of a rifle, I found that the name of 
" Queen Victoreea " was quite familiar to them. To be 
recognised as one of Queen Victoreea's " white chiefs " was 
nearly always and everywhere to ensure a naval officer a 
friendly reception. Where the natives could make them- 
selves intelligible to white visitors they frequently ex- 
pressed warm regard and admiration for Her Majesty. 
They have an unfailing confidence in her desire to do 
them good. There was something inexpressively gratify- 
ing to an Englishman to notice this far-reaching effect of 
our Queen's beneficent character. In the Pacific it has 
been most advantageous to the Empire, as the native 
races generally are desirous of being brought under the 
sway of so kind and so just a monarch. 

The reluctance, above alluded to, was, it must be owned, 
somewhat modified by a perception of the possibility, 
created by complying with Mr Christian's request, of 
inviting attention to the desirability, if not necessity, of 
investigations of the kind to which he has more parti- 


cularly devoted himself. Paying visits, though short ones, 
to many islands, has at least the advantage of enabling the 
visitor to form an accurate estimate of the importance of 
studying that which, at any rate relatively to other things, 
has been studied but little, viz. the people. Few persons 
will be likely to dispute the assertion that far less atten- 
tion has been paid to the manners, customs, language, 
institutions, and modes of thought of the inhabitants of 
the South Sea Islands than to the fauna, flora, and even 
the geology of their places of abode. The assertion holds 
good, though it may be objected that anthropological and 
ethnological observations were made by members of ex- 
peditions of discovery and exploration commanded by a 
Bougainville, a Cook, or a Wilkes. Passing observations, 
in great number and often of great value, were made, no 
doubt ; but the trained students residing for long periods 
amongst the island people for the purpose of carrying 
out their investigations have been almost exclusively 
" naturalists " or geologists. We owe much of our know- 
ledge of the south sea islanders themselves to mission- 
aries ; but their very calling put them out of sympathy 
with many native customs and institutions deserving of 
study ; whilst the earlier missionaries, i.e. those most 
favoured by opportunity, were without the proper pre- 
liminary training. 

There is ground for believing that men of science in 
Europe and America were alive to the desirability of 
obtaining more exact knowledge of the South Sea Island 
tribes and their ways. Their difficulty seems to have 
been to find a justification of the expense which the 
necessary investigations were likely to entail. If money 
were to be forthcoming, it must be for something that 
promised a return. Study of the botany, the zoology, or 
the mineralogy of Oceania might, indeed was expected to, 
result in the discovery of marketable commodities. Even 
now, as Mr Christian has probably found, it is well to 
combine, at least to a small extent, examination of the 


economic botany of an island with linguistic researches. 
Till lately, if not till this very moment, the general in- 
terest in the branches of science dealing with material 
was greater than in those which deal with man. The 
latter were, and perhaps still are, thought less worth 
attention by many of those who think about science at 
all. We may count with confidence upon greater in- 
terest being taken in the fortunes of an expedition to 
the Caroline Islands to prospect for gold or rubies, than in 
one to investigate the structure of the language or the 
history of the inhabitants ; and the greater interest in the 
former would not be confined to those who simply desire 
to add to their riches. 

Yet a little reflection will suffice to make us doubt both 
the correctness and the durability of this attitude of mind. 
In the civilised world of to-day — which we may define as 
the world in which the men wear trousers and the women 
read novels — the number of pupils, irrespective of nation- 
ality, receiving a " general education," greatly exceeds 
the number of those who are being " specially " trained. 
The children of both sexes who are acquiring historical 
knowledge, though it be but a smattering, far outnumber 
those who are being taught " science," and still more 
those who are being instructed in any special branch of 
it. This means, in effect, the formation of a continuously 
reinforced body of readers in whom a preference for the 
perusal of narrative rather than " scientific " works has been 
implanted. The difference in the figures relating to 
demands for books on history, biography, and travel, and 
to demands for those on science — as shown in the reports 
of libraries — will furnish evidence corroborative of the 
above contention. 

This preference, being in accordance with and represen- 
tative of natural inclinations, promises to endure. We 
are really more desirous of knowing something about our 
fellow-men than about anything else. This justifies 
hesitation before accepting the conclusions of those who 


assert that the British Empire will be maintained by the 
establishment of " technical colleges " better than by 
encouragement of the qualities which distinguished the 
worthies who had a leading share in its formation. For a 
long time to come there will be a more widely distributed 
desire to read about Nelson or Clive than about volcanoes 
or solar physics. This ought to be encouraging to men 
who devote themselves to the study of the characteristics 
of tribes in a world far removed from our own. These 
students may hope for a larger and larger public. The 
most influential section of that public may be respectfully 
invited to note the advantages of which the studies in 
question will make them the specially favoured recipients. 
The section is composed of those who teach that widely 
taught subject — history. In the South Seas they may 
find producible living illustrations of the doctrines which 
they occupy themselves in imparting to their pupils. 
What a " cabinet of specimens " is to a professor of 
mineralogy, what an " anatomical museum " is to a 
professor of anatomy, the tribes of the South Sea Islands 
may be to the professor of history, whether he teach from 
a chair or by means of a printed book. 

If only a small fraction of the time and intellectual 
effort devoted to the investigation of obscure points in 
the history of early Egypt, early Mesopotamia, early 
Greece, or early Italy — or indeed of early Britain — had 
been added to the little which has been devoted to South 
Sea Island investigations of a similar kind, those points 
would have been cleared up more easily. I will try to 
support this opinion by evidence drawn from personal 

In one of the Marshall Islands there was a war, waged 
for the recapture of a fugitive lady of rank. She and her 
new consort were besieged by a force commanded, not by 
a brother of her former spouse, but by her father. In that 
warrior's camp was a grown-up daughter of the Micronesian 
Helen. The latter's mature charms, like those of her 


Argive prototype, were still powerful enough — so white 
observers thought — to furnish an excuse for hostilities as 
good as that made by the Trojan elders sitting on the 
tower by the Scaean gate. The chiefs on both sides were 
known to each other ; and between them there was a fre- 
quent interchange of compliments and abuse, such as 
passed between Tlepolemos and Sarpedon, or between 
Hector of the Glancing Helm and Diomedes. These were, 
however, merely accidental circumstances recalling inci- 
dents in a great poem. 

What was of real historical interest was the mode in 
which the besiegers carried on the war. On the shore 
was drawn up a line of " hollow ships " — the great ocean- 
going canoes in which the fearless navigators of the Mar- 
shall group make long voyages. The besieging army, 
having disembarked, lay cantoned in rows of huts. The 
battlefield was the space between the cantonment and the 
beleaguered stronghold in which the runaway dame had 
taken refuge. The fleet was protected by a broad wall 
(rb vroirjoavTo veZv uvtp), and a trench which had been drawn 
round about. The belligerents were far from being mere 
savages. The leader of the besiegers was a chief of im- 
posing stature, dignified manners, like all South Sea chiefs, 
and high intellectual gifts. Other chiefs were but little 
inferior to him. Whatever resemblance it may have borne 
to that which, perhaps, was waged for the destruction of 
Troy, this war reproduced scenes that must have been 
familiar, from personal observation or through tradition, 
to the composer of the Iliad. It therefore furnished a 
picture of a phase of life buried beneath many historical 
strata. It was like a fossil in a museum, to which the 
professor of geology sends the student who wishes to 
understand thoroughly the lecture just heard or the 
treatise just read. 

In the Gilbert archipelago a little more than a dozen 
years ago the " Heroic Kingship " was in course of super- 
session by republican forms. In the more northern islands 


of the group the king still existed ; in the others he had 
disappeared. In at least one island there was an am- 
phictyony with every tendency to consolidate into a league 
or federation. 

In a second Marshall Island also there was a war. 
White visitors on an errand of peace to one of the armies 
— their object being at the first misunderstood — were 
received by the whole force in battle array. The warrior 
in command took no part in, and indeed was not present 
during, the subsequent negotiations. It turned out on 
inquiry that he was not a chief, but a commoner by birth, 
whose valour and military skill had gained him the posi- 
tion of general. The islanders, like the ancient Germans, 
reges ex nobilitate, duces ex virtute sumunt. This was 
another proof that appointment to command on account 
of personal ability rather than social rank was not — as 
has been claimed somewhat pretentiously — an invention 
of English radicals of the early Victorian period. Ancient 
German warriors and more modern South Sea islanders 
at the same stage of culture metaphorically carried a 
marshal's baton in their knapsacks long before even the 
immortal principles of 1789 were heard of. 

Acquaintance with several races of the South Seas will 
tend to weaken the belief that certain institutions are 
exclusively Aryan, as has been asserted — still less, 
exclusively Teutonic. De minoribus rebus principes con- 
sultant, de majoribus omnes, though a concise, is an 
accurate definition of the polity of more than one island 
community. The comitatus is known in the Pelew (Palao) 
Islands. There, it has peculiar features ; for instance, the 
curious relations between the comites and the hetaira of 
the chief, sanctioned by custom as long as the former 
remain in the cal-de-bekkel. Another practice attributed 
to the ancient Germans — consecrated reservation of 
particular areas — bears a strong likeness to the more 
beneficent aspects of the tabu, which is often adopted, on 
the pretext of divine prohibition, to prevent unrestricted 


access to fruit-bearing trees and cultivated plots. The 
traditional, perhaps historically warranted conception of 
the mediaeval Vehm-gericht, as regards procedure, has 
a counterpart in the legalised regicide of the Pelew 
Islands. A secret tribunal condemns an unpopular king 
to death. A rude effigy of the doomed chief is carved 
on the bark of a particular tree. On seeing this — his 
courtiers eager to terminate the uncertainty as to the 
composition of the new household take care that he shall 
see it soon — the king learns his fate and, it is said, never 
tries to escape it. In the New Hebrides the weregild 
custom was, and in some parts still is, reproduced with 
considerable exactness. Fifteen years ago in southern 
New Guinea the unconscious imitation of the Corsican 
vendetta was, for all practical purposes, perfect. 

The history of our own country might be elucidated by 
a variety of illustrations from the South Sea Islands. In 
many spots the descent of the inhabitants from immigrant 
sea-rovers is obvious. Estuaries, rivers, and creeks, are in 
the occupation of races quite distinct from the earlier 
residents who have been forced inland. If this does not 
exactly reproduce for us the conditions brought about by 
the successive expeditions of Hengest, of ./Elle, and of 
Cerdic with their companions, it may, surely, be taken as 
illustrating what occurred in the more remote days when 
the Aryan Celts invaded the island in the occupation of 
primitive Euskarians. To have seen the settlements of 
certain tribes of the Pacific enables one to understand 
events of which we no more have written records than we 
have of the generation of the Permian fossils. 

By observation of the islanders we may watch certain 
processes of great social and political importance. We 
may actually perceive the growth and evolution of classes, 
and even of ideas and principles. If anyone wants to see 
progress " from Status to Contract " in visible operation 
he should go to, say, Santa Cruz, which has just been 
brought under British administration. In half an ordinary 


lifetime it would be possible to note, as land, owing to 
the extension of trading settlements in the lowlands, be- 
came a marketable commodity, how chiefs of clans in 
some places can convert themselves into territorial 
magnates by the simple process of monopolising the folk- 
land, or, if that name be objected to, the common property 
of the whole clan. It sharpens one's perception of the 
essential identity of human actions under similar conditions, 
when one sees in the Pacific also that the ager publicus 
tends towards concentration in the hands of patricians, 
and that amongst the commons the propriety of redistri- 
buting it rises, in time, to the rank of a political principle. 

We can also observe how a missionary Church is 
received at first with wonder and submission by a 
population in a less forward state of culture ; how it 
grows powerful and, in comparison with even the foremost 
natives, wealthy ; how power and wealth breed a dis- 
position to domineer ; and how a spirit of resistance to 
domineering methods arises and a belief in the justice 
and efficacy of secession is developed. There is little 
fanciful in discerning a parallel between contemporary 
conditions in the islands and those which, in this depart- 
ment of affairs, disclosed themselves in mediaeval Europe. 
There have been moments when the white officials in 
remote archipelagoes must have thought that, after all, 
there was something to be said for Henry II. 

It was not in the Congresses or Parliaments of the 
English-speaking nations that " stone-walling " or " ob- 
struction " first originated. It was an established practice 
in the legislature of the Vaitupuans. Members of that 
body who were resolved not to allow their proposals to 
be " talked out " were provided with substantial wooden 
couches, on which they could take a nap and thus out- 
stay the longest-winded orator or the most adroitly- 
arranged succession of obstructive motions. These 
couches, which had evidently been long in use, were 
shown to visitors sixteen years ago. 


Several South Sea Island races are not now savage in 
any sense, except as to rarity of trousers and absence of 
novels, and never deserved that epithet in its sense of 
ferocious. There is no finer people on earth than the 
Tongans and the closely related and but slightly less 
vigorous Samoans. The physical beauty of both sexes 
— which attains its highest development amongst the 
Samoan women — is parallelled by their intellectual en- 
dowment. The grace of manner and general dignity of 
bearing, habitual with members of chiefly families, could 
not be surpassed in the most polished of European courts. 
The contrast in these respects between the natives of high 
birth and the proselytising and trading white men who 
come to " civilise " them cannot escape the notice of the 
least observant. 

Where they have not been made the victims of de- 
liberate and pertinacious corruption these people have 
shown a capacity for accepting our civilisation not inferior 
to that exhibited by the people who listened to the teach- 
ing of Augustine. The Tongans, till within the last year 
or two, showed that there was at least one constitutional 
monarchy that could prosper without a national debt. It 
does not require financial genius of a high order to enable 
you to discover that a young and inexperienced sovereign 
can be seduced easily into extravagant habits ; and — if you 
have the power of a great nation at your back and are 
sufficiently " detached " to have no scruples — though you 
may be but a tyro in finance, you can manage to convert 
private indebtedness into that of the nation and insist on 
liquidation in some form or other. The Tongans, it may 
be remarked, have a highly respectable political virtue not 
usually attributed to dark-skinned people by white men. 
They are as passionately attached to their independence as 
the Swiss or the Netherlanders ever were to theirs. 

It is hoped that this rapid survey of South Sea affairs 
will at the least help to make it seem likely that they will 
prove interesting enough to justify efforts to widen our 


knowledge of them. One cannot help thinking how full 
and trustworthy the survey might have been had it been 
carried out, in a leisurely manner, by a trained expert 
instead of by a hurried observer with plenty of other and 
more urgent work on his hands. It may be admitted that 
to have been amongst the islanders, even the more savage 
of them, begets a liking for them. There is no unworthy 
prejudice in the longing that their good points may be 
made more generally known. To have been in the South 
Seas is apt to stimulate mental reaction against the 
complacent self-sufficiency of the modern view that the 
eighteenth century laudation of the " state of nature" was 
an unmitigated absurdity. There is much that is most 
attractive in the kindly communism of the island tribes, 
and not a little that is economically sound. When a 
civilised nation takes over the administration of some 
group of islands, there is ingratitude, as well as impolicy, 
in ignoring the fact that the institutions of the natives 
have provided the new government with a ready-made 
system of poor relief. The question of old age pensions 
had been settled by the islanders long before white men 
came amongst them. It would be interesting to be in- 
formed by authorities on economics where co-operative 
agriculture has reached a more efficient development than 
it has in some South Sea Islands. A general recognition 
of the true qualities of the people may ward off from them 
many ills. To even a callous heart there must be some- 
thing shocking in the case of the gracious, kindly, and 
intelligent Samoans serving as the shuttle-cocks of rival 
gangs of money-makers in a hurry to grow rich. Beli- 
sarius begging for an obolus was not a more piteous 
spectacle than Malietoa Laupepa, with his seven hundred 
years of chiefly pedigree, accepting a dole of salted pork. 
In that subject which Mr Christian has made his special 
study, viz. language, the Pacific Islands offer a fine field 
for investigation. The evolution of dialects, and, perhaps, 
of distinct languages, can be followed as we follow an 


experiment in a laboratory. On Mallicolo (Malekula) and 
Espiritu Santo of the New Hebrides one could measure 
the extent of the separation between adjacent but mutually- 
hostile villages by the varying pronunciation of personal 
names which were common to all. 

If we may regard the South Sea Islands as a museum 
of living specimens to which students in many branches of 
learning may resort in order to fortify their conclusions 
and improve their knowledge, we must remember that it 
is a museum which will not be open long. The island 
races are diminishing and, besides, are rapidly changing 
under the influence of " civilisation." The geology of 
Oceania, whether examined now or a hundred years hence, 
will yield the same results. The greatest disaster that 
can be caused by postponement is the disappointment of 
someone with a theory who is in a hurry to test it. Even 
the fauna and the flora will have changed but little in a 
century, and in easily discernible ways. In a much 
shorter time the people will have died out or have been 
transformed into weak and ineffective copies of white 
originals. Therefore the student who wishes to do what 
Mr Christian has done, and carry out his inquiries on the 
spot, had better be quick about it. The operation will 
help to enlarge our knowledge of the natives and their 
ways, and can hardly fail to benefit the Empire. 

The formation of the British Empire in its wide 
dominion over alien races was made possible by — 
amongst others — two things. The great men who were 
the immediate agents of expansion possessed a high 
capacity for understanding the native populations with 
which they came in contact. Amongst the British 
people at home the trick of fussy and desultory inter- 
ference with that of which they know nothing had not 
developed into a serious malady. The times are changed. 
Nevertheless increased knowledge may counteract the 
most menacing consequences of the disease. 

There are a few particular points to which it may not 


be impertinent to allude. I have ventured to form the 
opinion that the great Ponape and Kusaie ruins, explored 
by Mr Christian, are not those of buildings erected by 
the races at present inhabiting the islands. The opinion, 
I find, is not approved by persons of high authority. 
Whether the ancestors of the present Ponapeans or an 
earlier people built the great island Venice at Metalanim, 
it will not, I expect, be denied that the builders must have 
vastly out-numbered the existing population. The same 
may be said of every Pacific island on which prehistoric 
remains are found. Now, a tradition of a larger popula- 
tion in early times is very common in the South Seas ; and 
there is evidence beyond that supplied by the ruins to 
support it. That the native population is diminishing — 
equally under conditions of coddling and neglect — is 
certain. There is, however, nothing to show that the 
actual rate of decrease is greater than, or even as great as, 
that of former ages. Indeed it is reasonable to suppose 
that the natives had been moving rapidly towards extinc- 
tion before the white man appeared on the scene. If the 
great ruins were the work of a pre-existing people it 
would strengthen the belief — which is quite tenable if 
they were not — that the dying-out is really independent 
of the white man's action. Consequently, we may console 
ourselves with the reflection that, however sorely we may 
have sinned against them, we are not responsible for the 
extinction of the island races of the Pacific. 

It is impossible to think of the South Sea Islands with- 
out thinking of missionaries. They have played a great 
part there ; or, at any rate, have had the good fortune of 
telling the story of it themselves. For those who hold 
that it is a more sacred duty to evangelise some tens of 
thousands of islanders than some hundreds of thousands 
of dwellers in certain quarters of the great cities of the 
United Kingdom and the Australasian colonies, this must 
have been a comfort. We are often ready to assume that 
a work must be good because those who do it are men of 


noble spirit and unselfish practice. Intimacy with some 
of the British missionaries of all the churches cannot fail 
to raise one's estimate of one's fellow-men. I have heard 
many charges brought by laymen against missionaries, of 
improper trading or impure life. In not one single case 
which I 'was able to investigate was there any truth in the 
accusations. I have heard of one bad case ; but the 
accusers and judges in that were missionaries themselves. 
Though the British missionaries of one sect will talk very 
fully of the proceedings of those of another, I never heard 
from any of them a single expression of jealousy or ill- 
feeling. On the contrary, they seemed to take a friendly 
interest in each other's success. All the same, any really 
open-minded visitor to the islands will soon discover that 
other white men who are too seldom remembered have 
also exercised a beneficent influence amongst them. The 
civilisation of the islanders — Europeanisation would be 
more accurate — has not been the work of the missionaries 
alone. The white trader has had no insignificant share 
in it. 

Those who believe that the " beach-comber," or the 
copra-trader, of the South Seas is necessarily a scoundrel, 
err grievously. There is, proportionately to their numbers, 
as much honesty, sobriety, and energy amongst the traders 
as amongst any other body of business men. They have 
their black sheep, no doubt ; let the community which 
has none throw at them the first stone ! 

Thursday Island is so often the starting place for 
visitors to the South Seas that it cannot properly be 
passed without mention. I have occasionally found that 
it is given — in my opinion most undeservedly — a bad 
character. It has a noisy quarter in which there is much 
debauchery. Anyone who expresses horror at this is in- 
vited to inspect certain waterside parts of Liverpool or 
Antwerp before he formulates his indictment. At one of 
my visits to Thursday Island nearly all the residents were 
good enough to accept an invitation to come on board the 


flag- ship. What they thought of it I cannot say ; I only 
know that their company gave me unalloyed pleasure. 
The Thursday Island community is, in my opinion, a most 
creditable one. The good Australian tradition of tolerat- 
ing no lawlessness in newly formed and hastily populated 
settlements has been respected there as well as in many a 
mining " rush." Whilst nothing would induce me to cross 
a London Park after 10 p.m., I would readily walk from 
one end of Thursday Island to the other at any hour. 

There is no need for me to dwell upon the romantic 
side of life in the South Seas. That side of it has been 
illustrated by such masters as Byron, Melville, R. L. 
Stevenson, most conspicuously, and Louis Becke. 

I have now only to leave Mr Christian to tell his story. 
I apologise for having stood so long between him and his 
readers, and may add that I have discovered, not from 
information volunteered by him, that the whole cost of 
his expedition has been defrayed by himself; and that 
his only inducement has been a disinterested love of the 
studies to which he has devoted so much time and so 
much labour. 

Cyprian A. G. Bridge. 

London, 21st March 1899. 



SPANISH Micronesia, according to the treaty made with 
Germany in 1885, lies between the Equatorial line on 
the south and the eleventh northern parallel, and between 
1 39 and 170 E. longitude. 1 The great island of New 
Guinea lies about 1000 miles to the southward. A long 
chain of 652 islands lie scattered over this wide stretch of 
sea, some 1400 miles in length. The inhabitants number 
some 50,000, a combination of the Black, the Brown, and 
the Yellow races. The Caroline archipelago contains 
thirty-six minor groups. We will take the more important 
of these one by one from west to east. 

The Pelew group, lying on the western frontier of the 
Carolines, contains about two hundred islands, of which 
Bab-el-Thaob is the largest. The population of the Pelews 
is considerably over 3000. The language is the harshest 
and most impossible of all the Malayan dialects. The 
principal products are turtle-shell, copra or dried cocoanut 
kernel, and beche-de-mer or dried sea-slugs. In the 
Chinese markets beche-de-mer brings as much as £So 
sterling per ton. Copra in European markets fetches 
about £25 per ton. It yields a capital oil, and the 
crushed residue furnishes a grand cattle-cake and is used 
as a basis for sweetmeats and confectionery. 

Trouble is always going on between the various tribes, 
and a firm hand is needed to keep things in order. 
Captain Butron of the Spanish cruiser Velasco (lost in 
the late naval battle at Manilla), who visited the group 
in 1885, gives these natives a good name. Captain 

1 Since these lines were in type, Spanish Micronesia is no more. 
B I7 


O'Keefe, of Yap, who knows the Pelews very well, de- 
scribes the people as regular pirates. In olden time there 
was great commercial activity in the Western Carolines. 
The Yap and Pelew natives used to go on long voyages 
of trading and conquest. The island of Babelthoab is 
rich in good timber, and produces all the tropical fruits. 
On the hillside are some interesting lines of ancient 
fortifications, which I hope to explore next winter. 

Alligators, called Gaiutsch or Aius, are found in some 
of the creeks, and a peculiar kind of horned frog or Cerastes 
in the valleys of the interior ; this they call Thagathaguk. 
There are two kinds of snakes \Bersoiok and Ngiis\ 
some scorpions and centipedes. On the plateaus there is 
plenty of good pasture for horses and cattle. Goats are 
plentiful and very destructive to the breadfruit-trees ; 
they break into a plantation, gnaw the bark away in a 
circle, and then the tree dies, and so does the goat when 
he is caught ! There is no Spanish garrison or mission 
school or trading station in the Pelews. Nothing is done 
at all to show that these islands belong to Spain. A 
fringing reef, fifty-three miles long from north to south, 
surrounds the Pelews — a menace to navigation which has 
destroyed many a China-bound vessel. I have lately 
heard that the Spaniards are now determined to sell the 
Pelews, the Mariannes, and the Carolines to some foreign 
Power, but neither America, Great Britain, nor Japan 
need apply — and these the very nations best of all quali- 
fied for colonising these fierce and intractable islanders. 
In her business relations in Pacific islands Great Britain 
would do well to take heed of the saying of Horace, 
" Tarde venientibus ossa " — " Those who come late to 
dinner only get bones." x 

Three hundred miles north-east of the Pelews lies Yap, 

surrounded by a coral reef thirty-five miles long and five 

broad. There are hardly any rivulets on the island, but 

inland are extensive swamps laid out in plantations of a 

1 Recent events have proved these words only too true. 


water taro, the Colocasia of the Nile valley. The island 
is full of relics of a vanished civilisation — embankments 
and terraces, sites of ancient cultivation, and solid roads 
neatly paved with regular stone blocks, ancient stone 
platforms and graves, and enormous council lodges of 
quaint design, with high gables and lofty carved pillars. 
The ruins of ancient stone fish-weirs fill the lagoon between 
the reef and the shore, making navigation a most difficult 
matter, and calling forth many most unkind remarks from 
trading skippers. The fruits of the soil are sweet potatoes, 
yams, of which there is a great variety, taro, mammee 
apples or papaw, pineapples, water-melons, custard-apples, 
bananas, sugar-cane, breadfruit, and the tropical almond. 
Copra, that is, cocoanut kernel chipped up, sun-dried, and 
put into sacks, is largely exported, mostly through the 
German traders, who have spent a great deal of money 
and labour here for the last thirty years. A varnish nut 
grows here which should give good results. The principal 
timber tree is the Voi, with a leaf like that of a magnolia 
and in the wood resembling mahogany. Tomil harbour 
on the East coast is the chief port ; here is the European 
settlement and a small garrison of Manilla soldiers, and the 
Spanish governor of the Western Carolines resides here 
with a few Spanish officers and officials. There are about 
a dozen European traders, mostly Germans. 

Yap has beautiful scenery ; the groves of bamboo, 
croton, cocoanut and areca palms are magnificent. 
Huge green and yellow tree -lizards, called Galtif, are 
found in the bush, and the nights are brilliant with fire- 
flies glittering in and out of the woods like showers of 
golden sparks. There are very few birds, however, very 
few cattle, and no horses on the island. 

The Uluthi or Mackenzie group lies a little to the 
northward of Yap. Mokomok or Arrowroot island is the 
chief port and trading place, with a great trade in copra. 
The natives have from ancient times been subject to Yap, 
and they come down every February to pay their tribute. 


They are peaceful and law-abiding, a great contrast to 
some of the people farther to the eastward. The next 
island of importance is Uleai. Raur is the trading depot of 
this group, exporting great quantities of copra, pearl-shell, 
and beche-de-mer. The language contains many traces of 
later Malayan, probably derived from trading vessels from 
Java, Timor, and Sumatra, and piratical praus from Borneo 
and the Sulus. All the central Caroline islanders have very 
similar traditions, customs, and language. In olden days 
they were great navigators, guiding their way fearlessly 
by a most accurate knowledge of the stars and ocean cur- 
rents. When the Spaniards conquered the Mariannes 
about three hundred years ago, a great number of the 
Chamorro or natives of the soil fled to Uleai and Lamotrek 
to avoid forced conversion and slavery. I will give an 
instance of the great naval enterprise about the beginning 
of this century of the natives in this part of the Carolines. 
The Uleai folk and their neighbours used regularly to 
assemble at Lamotrek every February with eighteen or 
twenty great canoes. From thence they sailed to Guam, 
a distance of some five hundred miles, where they would 
stay until April or May and then return, fearing the south- 
west monsoon. 

The two next Caroline groups, Hall and Enderby, are 
only to be visited with great precautions. The islands 
Pulo-Wat and Pulo-Suk are nothing better than pirate 
strongholds. It would be well for an English or American 
man-of-war to visit here, and warn the local chiefs against 
cutting off peaceful trading vessels in their lagoon. They 
have no respect at all for the red and yellow flag, for the 
Spanish have taken little or no notice of several murders 
committed here of late years. The next group is called 
Ruk, from the name of the highest basaltic island in the 
chain. It is also called Hogolu. 1 The group consists of 

1 The natives call Ruk " Te-Fan" " The Land," just as the Gilbert 
Islanders style their little sun-scorched coral atolls " Te Aba." 

The island-name Wap or Yap in the Western Carolines has the same 


about seventy islands of basalt and coral lying in the 
middle of a lagoon about one hundred and forty miles 
round. There is a fine depth of water and good anchor- 
age for vessels of large draft. There is a great annual 
output of copra, mostly carried off to Europe in German 
or Norwegian barques. Pearl-shell, turtle-shell, and beche- 
de-mer are very abundant. Here they make from the 
grated root of the wild ginger an orange-coloured cosmetic 
( Taz'k) in little cones, which are readily exchanged all over 
the Caroline group. There are thirty Japanese traders in 
Hogolu lagoon, and a Hamburg trading firm sends many 
vessels every year to fill up with copra. Figures are 
sometimes better than photographs, so for those interested 
in statistics 1 will say that the annual export of copra 
from the Caroline group averages four million pounds 
weight, of which Yap and Hogolu between them yield 
more than half. Hogolu has a population of about ten 
thousand, composed of two distinct races. The hill tribes 
are dark in colour and the people on the coast light 
reddish-brown. There is generally some small civil war 
on hand, and the national game of head-hunting has 
interfered a great deal with business, for the Spanish let 
the islanders do just as they like. The natives of Ruk 
and of the neighbouring group of the Mortlocks have a 
curious custom, observed also in the Visayas of the 
southern Philippines, among the ancient Incas of Peru, 
and the Polynesians of Easter island, of piercing the 
lower lobe of the ear, loading it with heavy ornaments 
and causing it to expand downwards to an enormous size. 
The Mortlocks consist of three groups, Lukunor, Satoan, 
and Etal, containing in all ninety-eight islands. The 
population is about two thousand. The Germans take 

primitive meaning. The element Pon, Fan, Fal or Far enters frequently 
into the names of Caroline Islands. Cf. Ponatik, Fanadik, Faralap, 
Ponapei, Fanupei ; — and is cognate with Fijian Vanua, Malay Benua, and 
with Polynesian Fanua, Fenua, Honua, Whenua. In Gaelic we find 
Fonn = earth : land, and in Sanskrit Bonn ^id. 


great pains to develop the copra industry here. Of great 
interest to philologists is the existence of a pure Polynesian 
dialect upon two little island groups named Kap-en-Mail- 
ang and Nukuoro. These lie to the south-east of the 
Mortlocks. The language is an antique form, combining 
the phonesis of the Samoan and the Maori, spoken about 
three thousand miles away down in the South Pacific. 
I collected about five hundred words of the Nukuoro 

The next group to the eastward is that of Ponape or 
Seniavin, with the neighbouring minor groups of Ant, Pakin, 
and Ngatik, of which more anon. The islands in the 
Ponape lagoon are somewhat thinly populated, and serve 
mainly as fishing stations. The islet of Mutakaloch, off 
the Metalanim coast, is remarkable for its cellular basalt 
formation ; whilst near Kapara, which lies on the edge of 
the barrier reef on the south-west coast, is seen the pheno- 
menon of a spring of fresh water welling up through the 

Farther east from Ponape are the Mokil (or Duperrey), 
the Pingelap (or M'Caskill), and the Kusaie groups, the 
easternmost outpost of the Spanish dominions. In con- 
clusion, I may express my opinion that England may one 
day have a great deal to do with the islands Kusaie and 
Ponape, the latter of which really deserves the name of 
the garden of Micronesia. I may be pardoned for saying 
that our Government at home has of late years shown 
itself somewhat indifferent to events in the South Seas. 
The French and the Germans are pushing their interests 
in Pacific waters, whilst we stand still. Even the Nor- 
wegians are busy there, and we look tamely on and do 
nothing. Let us wake from this strange torpor like men 
of business and try what we can do. Surely where 
French, Germans, and Norwegians can make money, we 
can make money too ! 

I will refer briefly to the principal explorers who have 
visited these waters. 


On the 6th March, 1521, the illustrious navigator 
Magellan discovered the Mariannes to which he gave the 
name Ladrones ; from thence, he went on and discovered 
the Philippine group, and on the 27th April of the same 
year was murdered by the natives on the island of 

In 1526, Alonzo de Salazar discovered one of the 
islands of the Marshall group. 

In 1528, Alvaro de Saavedra discovered the Uluthi or 
Mackenzie group, and took possession of them in the 
name of Spain. A little later he sailed into the wide 
lagoon of Hogolu, or Ruk, and in the September of the 
next year he found Ualan, or Kusaie. After him Villa- 
lobos and Legaspi, on their way to the Philippines from 
New Spain, made fresh discoveries in these waters, of 
which Yap was the most important. 

In 1595, the famous sea-captain Quiros fell in with 
Ngatik, to the south of Ponape, which he called Los 
Valientes, from the warlike character of the natives he 
found there. In 1686, a small island to the south of the 
Mariannes was called Carolina, and from this little island 
the name became applied to the whole group. A series of 
expeditions of a religious character followed the Spanish 
discoveries in these seas. Attempts to introduce the 
Catholic faith on Sonsorol and the Enderby group, known 
as Los Martires, failed disastrously, ending in the death of 
the missionaries who conducted them, through the 
cowardice and incompetence of the captain who held 
temporal command. Other Spanish vessels, no doubt, on 
the course from Acapulco to the Philippines, may have 
fallen in with some of the Caroline Islands or been wrecked 
on some of the uncharted reefs. Of these we have no 
record save the grim story on the south coast of Ponape, 
of iron men who came up out of the sea and fought with 
the men of Kiti, until overwhelmed with sling-stones and 
spear-thrusts. A voyager of note in Micronesia was 
Kotzebue, who, with the famous Chamisso, poet, dramatist, 


and philologist, visited the Marshalls, the Mariannes, and 
a portion of the Carolines in 1815. After 1819, Lutke, 
Freycinet, Duperrey, and Dumont D'Urville, visited these 
regions. In 1839, an English man-of-war, the Lame, 
coasted around Ponape and entered Kiti harbour. A 
number of geographical observations and soundings were 
taken, upon which our present Admiralty chart is based. 
Most unfortunately, nearly all the native names have 
been cruelly mangled, and have become a meaningless 

Ever since 1830 the island has been repeatedly visited 
by the New England and New Bedford whalers, who gave 
the natives little cause indeed to respect the white man. 
During the Civil War in America a Confederate cruiser, 
the Shenandoah, caught several of these northern craft in 
Chokach harbour, and burnt them to the water's edge. 
About 1850 the American Methodist Mission was estab- 
lished, and recent history may be summarised as 
follows : — 


August 1885. — The gunboat litis raises the German 
flag at Yap. Excitement at Madrid. German 
Consulate assaulted. The matter referred to the 
Pope who pronounces in favour of Spain. 

July 27, 1886. — Spanish flag raised at Ascension 
Bay in Ponape. 

April 19, 1887. — Founding of the Colony of Santiago, 
and formal proclamation of Spanish rule at 
Ascension Bay. 

April 24, 1887. — Founding of the Catholic Mission 
station in Kiti, followed by bickerings between 
the Methodist missionaries from Boston and the 
Capuchin priests. 

June 16, 1887. — Mr Doane, the head of the Methodist 
Mission, deported to Manilla. 


July 1, 1887. — Massacre of a detachment of Manilla 
soldiers under Ensign Martinez on the Island of 
Chokach, followed by a general native rising and 
the capture of the Spanish fort and the slaughter 
of Senor Posadillo, the Governor, and some seventy 
of the defenders. 

October 31, 1887. — Arrival of punitive expedition. 
The new Governor, Senor Cadarso, proclaims a 
general amnesty. 

1888 and 1889. — Interval of peace. 

June 25, 1890. — Massacre of Lieut. Porras and his 
party of fifty-four soldiers employed on the 
military road at Oa on the east coast. 

June 29, 1890. — Wreck of Mr J. C. Dewar's yacht, the 
Nyanza, on the reefs off the Mant Islands on the 
north coast. 

September 1, 1890. — Arrival of relief expedition from 
Manilla under Colonel Gutierrez Soto. 

September 12, 13, and 14, 1890. — Bombardment of 
the Metalanim coast. Landing of troops on 
Tomun. Burning of native houses and King 
Paul's residence destroyed. Abortive overland 
march of Spanish troops across the U highlands 
from the Colony and their return. 

September 16, 1890. — Landing of Spanish at Tolopuel 
in Metalanim harbour. Colonel Soto killed. 

September 19, 1890. — Attack upon Oa from the 
sea. The position brilliantly carried by the 
Spanish, but with severe loss. Death of Chaulik, 
one of the leading rebel chiefs of the League. 

October 15, 1890. — Second desultory bombardment of 
the Metalanim coast by the Ulloa. Arrival of the 
American corvette Alliance, demanding compen- 
sation for the proposed expulsion of their mission- 
aries, and obtaining 1 7,000 gold dollars, leaving 
on 2nd November, and conducting Mr Rand and 
his Methodist colleagues to the Island of Kusaie. 


November 22 and 23, 1890. — Hard fighting at the 
stockade of Ketam in the Metalanim district. 
The position captured by the Spanish at the 
sacrifice of a third of their force. 

A trifling skirmish on the Chapalap River and a few 
assassinations of stray Manilla soldiers wandering outside 
the Colony, varied the monotony of affairs until the 
arrival of Don Jose Pidal in 1894. His conciliatory 
policy seemed successful, and the natives regretted his 
departure in 1896. His successor, Don Miguel Velasco, 
a distinguished naval officer, who it is to be feared perished 
in the recently reported massacre, was popular alike 
amongst Europeans and natives. The massacre was 
doubtless caused by the imprisonment of Henry Nanapei 
of Ronkiti, one of the principal chiefs, who held strong 
American sympathies, and was head of the Protestant 
Mission schools established in his district. Perhaps if the 
Carolines are handed over to Germany, as Spain seems 
disposed to do, we shall hear less of this odium theologicum 
which elsewhere has proved such a firebrand to the world, 
and here has brought about such lamentable waste of life 
and treasure, and cruel humiliations to Spain. 





EMBARKING on the S.S. Menmuir we start from 
Sydney on a lovely evening, September 3rd, 1895, 
passing Seal Rocks above Newcastle, the bane of our ill- 
fated predecessor the Catterthun. A haze hung over the 
land for the weather had been very dry, and frequent 
bush-fires were torching up on our left. On the evening 
of September 5 th we anchored in Moreton Bay to pick up 
some passengers from Brisbane. Next night we sighted 
Capricorn Light, and the 7th found us moored in a dense 
fog off the pilot station in Keppel Bay, where by and by 
we receive cargo from Rockhampton and a medley of 
Chinese passengers. We leave about noon and pass 
numerous barren islets that afternoon, and the morning of 
the 9th found us lying off Townsville. We raised Cape 
Grafton that afternoon, sighting Rocky Island about day- 
light, and anchoring off Cooktown about nine o'clock, 
where we took on board a cargo of beche-de-mer. 

Cooktown with her mangrove belt is left behind us. 
Several low islands lie to seaward, flat as the islets of 
Tonga or the Low Archipelago without their redeeming 
belt of graceful palms. The sea is calm as a mill-pond, 
and the sky heavy with smoke from the bush-fires raging 
along that desolate coast — the domain of savage hunting 
and fishing tribes which the white man has not yet ousted 
from their homes. But their turn will come by and by, 
and the surviving blacks will follow their predecessors as 
sure as the night the day. 

Our dear old captain Hugh Craig is the life and soul 


of our merry bachelor party. Day after day we creep 
northward, gliding over a glassy sea, our Lotus eaters' 
monotony only broken by sumptuous meals served by 
noiseless and discreet Celestials in airy attire. Evening 
after evening, many a noble rubber of whist is played out 
on deck with the Southern Cross and the myriad lamps 
of the sky gleaming overhead ; with the kindly breezes 
of starry-kirtled night playing softly round us, as with 
rhythmic beat of clanging machinery, the great boat 
marches on with a fiery trail of phosphorescent sparkles 
in her train. 

On the evening of the ninth day out we anchor off the 
mouth of the famous Torres Straits, so as to steam 
through the jaws of the narrow and perilous Albany Pass 
with the morning light. At dawn a most picturesque 
scene unfolds itself. We are moving through a channel 
not above eighty yards wide, to right and to left we catch 
fleeting glimpses of pretty little sandy bays opening out 
here and there, backed by clumps of cocoanut palms, re- 
calling bits of scenery from the South Seas. On either 
side shelves and ledges of rock stand out in bold relief, 
while in the background stretches a wild bushland covered 
thickly with low scrub and dotted pillars of grass-tree. 
One picturesque foreland is covered with tall conical, not 
to say comical mounds, the mud-castles of the Termites or 
white ants. After a while the northern horizon is left 
clear, save for three or four small islands on the New 
Guinea side, but the great island itself lies too far off to 
view. We sight the residence of Mr J., an extensive 
landholder and J. P. of the district, a man of mark, and a 
stern man to the marauding savages who cluster round the 
lonely little settlement. This portion of Australia — all 
around the Gulf of Carpentaria — swarms with fierce and 
warlike blacks, tinged with a strong racial admixture from 
Malay pirates, trepang-gatherers, Papuan war-parties, and 
fleets of dugong fishers from South New Guinea, who 
have haunted these coasts for many a hundred years. 


The seas hereabouts are famous for biche-de-mer and pearl- 
shell, and Mr J. has several luggers in hand for this 
service, which is one of considerable adventure and hard- 
ship. The place is called Somerset, and was formerly the 
residence of the local magistrate appointed by the Govern- 
ment, who has now been removed to Thursday Island. 
The waterway round us simply bristles with hidden reefs 
and dangerous sandbanks. Later on we pass the four 
year old wreck of the Volga, a Newcastle collier of some 
2000 tons, and soon after slip by the Mecca reefs (so 
called from the China steamer wrecked here thirteen years 
ago), and now Thursday Island and its mosquito fleet of 
pearling luggers and beche-de-mer craft comes into sight as 
we round a curve and run alongside the William Fairbairn 
hulk, where we moor. Presently three or four shoreboats 
manned by Cingalese boatmen come alongside to take our 
party ashore. 

The island is a barren sandy spot, and the township a 
miserable collection of tumbledown shanties and stores 
faced with shaky verandahs and roofed with corrugated 
iron, which with the fiery heat beating down overhead 
makes the interior a positive furnace, creating a hell- 
like heat and thirst, which many of the settlers appro- 
priately quench with huge draughts of spirits that might 
have come out of Beelzebub's own private still. Here 
indeed is a wonderful mixture of races for poet, painter, 
or artist of an unhealthy turn of mind. Crapulous, un- 
washed white men with low foreheads and cunning shifty 
eyes, Cingalese, Malays, Papuans, Chinamen, Portuguese, 
African and Australian niggers, and half-castes of all sorts 
of lovely dissolving shades of white, dirty brown, sooty 
black and sickly yellow, pullulating together like vermin 
in the mud-honey of drink, opium, and filth, the paradise 
of the Australian larrikin and the type of native he 
influences. Picture the estimable Captain Randall in 
Stevenson's " Beach of Falesa," and you will get a notion 
of the white loafer of Thursday Island. A class of men 


unreasonably large in number here, who must be a sad 
annoyance to their sober and respectable neighbours. The 
landscape is slightly redeemed by a few melancholy look- 
ing cocoanut palms and pandanus clumps, with here and 
there a wilted and sickly pawpaw tree looking as if ashamed 
of its surroundings. On every hand there are plenty of 
vacant allotments covered with tall stalks of dried-up 
vegetation awaiting a stray lucifer or spark from the pipe 
of some careless wayfarer to break out into a glorious 
conflagration of purifying flame, and make a bonfire of 
this evil-smelling rookery. A few dull-eyed storekeepers 
loll around on rickety benches grumbling at bad times, 
and praying for some customer to come along, who when 
he does come gets a taste of insolence for giving them the 
trouble of getting up. Any remonstrance is answered by 
a shower of invectives, which must keep the recording 
angel very busy for the next few minutes. A tempting 
curio-assortment lies arrayed in the windows of one shop 
— but, alas, the shutters are down. The proprietor is 
away " on the tangle," as a wild-eyed beach-comber pass- 
ing by curtly informs us. 

One of our party badly wanting a shave is rash enough 
to approach a tumble-down barber's shop — one look at 
the filthy interior, and the too sanguine customer flees in 
horror. By-and-bye we come to a shop with heaps of 
useful though not exactly ornamental household crockery 
piled up in front. This is the " Hall of Arts," the title 
set forth in bright blue letters on a green ground. By 
the side of a broken window a flaring red-and-yellow 
poster announces the production of a Screaming Farce — 
a relic of a party of last month's strolling players. On 
the hill overlooking the centre of the township are the 
Barracks, wherein some fifty men of the Permanent Ar- 
tillery are stationed — stalwart makers of roads, clearers of 
bush, suppliers of water, and pioneers of civilisation gener- 
ally, and preservers of law and order. Let us hope that 
some years of Purgatory may be remitted them for doing 


their duty amidst such unpleasant surroundings — and men 
say they perform it well. Lo ! the dingy street is lighted 
up by a bright apparition of two neat little Japanese 
musume's patrolling in their national garb — a harmony in 
brown, blue and grey — under paper umbrellas, a pair of 
human busy bees from the hive, the other side of the 
jetty where lies the Japanese quarter. Now these Japanese 
have certainly established a solid foothold in Thursday 
Island. Possibly their nattiness, their thrift and superior 
business ability, account for the bitter hatred of a certain 
section of the white population towards them. Many of 
the settlers look upon them as dangerous rivals, and would 
gladly over-reach or terrorise these bright and energetic 
little people. But the resident is a firm and a just man, 
and a stern repressor of the lawless and rowdy element, 
and he does not fight alone. Therefore the dogs in the 
manger are allowed to growl and bark a little, but, when 
they take to biting, measures are taken to muzzle them. 

We climbed the hill and lunched at an odd little hotel 
on top where there were a number of pet animals. After 
admiring a stuffed alligator fourteen feet long, and supplying 
the whisky-drinking baboon with sundry glasses of Scotch 
and Irish to his infinite relish, we descended and made 
our way back to the steamer. We found them hoisting 
on board quantities of sandal-wood brought down in some 
of the small schooners manned by crews of mixed nation- 
ality, which trade between Thursday Island and the 
southern districts of New Guinea. 

The capture of a shovel-headed shark over nine feet in 
length caused some excitement. He was hoisted in over 
the side, and all but fell into the sheep pen, much to the 
dismay of the woolly bleaters, and his evil life was cut short 
by repeated slashes over the tail from the hatchet of the 
Chinese cook. We remained at our moorings overnight, 
and daybreak sent us ploughing across the Gulf of Car- 
pentaria, with a smooth sea, a cloudless sky, and a pleasant 
breeze to waft us towards the magic East. 


On the 15th we sighted New Year's Island and passed 
Cape Croker, anchoring off Cape Don for the night. Next 
day we passed Cape Keith, and sighted King's Table in 
the afternoon, reaching Port Darwin about two hours 
before sunset. 

The town is situated on a plateau, reached by a series 
of steps leading up the hillside from the end of a long 
jetty which stretches out seaward about four hundred 
yards. At spring tide the rise is twenty-seven feet, which 
necessitates high and stout supports. The posts are 
suffering greatly from the attacks of the borer-worm, that 
pest of tropical seas. It may console mariners to know 
that the Board of Works is seriously contemplating the 
construction of a new wharf with solid iron cylinders. In 
twenty or thirty years the much-boasted innovation may 
be an accomplished fact. In the meantime sea-captains 
may grutch and grumble to their hearts' content. 

The town consists of the usual cluster of four or five 
score houses, a distant vision of flat-topped roofs capped 
with the inevitable corrugated iron, shimmering like 
burnished copper in the glare of the evening sun. On 
a closer view, however, some of the houses of the better 
sort appear lying back in little gardens of their own, 
fronted by spacious verandahs with shades of split bam- 
boo-cane, and embowered with masses of roses and climb- 
ing creepers, conspicuous amongst which are the rich 
purple leafy-petaled blossoms of the Bougainvillea and 
the blue and white bells of the convolvulus major. Here 
and there the eye rests pleasantly upon clumps of crotons, 
and masses of arum-lily and caladium. There is a Post 
Office lying back in a trim shrubbery ; and two Banks, 
one of stone, one of wood, supply the monetary needs of 
the townsfolk. In company with Messrs Fcelsche and 
Holtze we drove out next day to visit the Botanical 
Gardens, which lie about three miles out of town a little 
way past Shell Bay, where a friendly tribe of neighbour- 
ing blacks are encamped. The former of our entertainers 


is the Police Magistrate of the district, who has contributed 
much interesting knowledge to scientific journals concern- 
ing the languages and customs of the native races of the 
Northern Territory. Mr Holtze is Curator of the Gardens, 
and is a great botanical enthusiast. On reaching the scene 
of his labours the first thing that strikes one is a grove of 
cocoanut palms only seven years old but showing vigorous 
growth. Clumps of feathery bamboo and sturdy bananas 
give a genuine South Sea Island aspect to the scene. 
There is quite a cosmopolitan gathering of palms. The 
prickly-palm of Queensland, the cabbage palm and the oil 
palm from Africa, the fan palm of the Marquesas, the 
areca palm of India and the Philippines, the date palm 
from Arabia and Egypt, are all here. Huge banyan trees 
tower around, spreading wide their aerial root-sprays, their 
tresses of small leaf nodding and whispering in the sway 
of the free ocean breezes. Strange shrubs and trees from 
the Moluccas confront us, the cinnamon, the Malay or 
jamboo apple, the jackfruit, the gardenia, the cycas and 
the freycinetia. The Australian flora is well represented. 
Here flourish the red gum, blue gum, spotted gum, 
stringy bark, lemon gum, black-butt, apple tree, sheoak, 
black wattle and golden wattle. 

The site of the gardens was heavily timbered in former 
times and now green saplings are everywhere shooting 
up from the boles of the felled giants of the forest. I 
stayed to lunch at Holtze's invitation, and thus met two 
ardent cullers of herbs. Finally it was agreed that he 
should furnish me with a number of seed-packets and that 
I should make a collection of assorted Micronesian seeds, 
always giving economic trees and plants the preference. 
In return he promised me a number of North Australian 
curios and undertook to minutely tabulate and record the 
species and genera of plants raised from the aforesaid 
collection of seeds, which when they came to hand were to 
be sown and tended with special care. Then our talk 
turned upon the neighbouring tribes, and the new railway 


extension to Pine Creek. He told me of the Palmer 
Goldfield, of the Yellow Agony invading the Northern 
Territory, and discoursed learnedly on nuggets, faults, 
veins, signs, claims and codes of diggers' law, which 
failed to inspire me with golden dreams, though, for all 
I know or care, the reality may be hard at hand. He 
spoke of the lovely scenery on the creeks, and promised 
me first-rate sport in the way of alligator shooting, if I 
would only stay over two months. But even the tempt- 
ing prospect of " Shikar " fails to draw me. " I hear the 
East a-calling " in Rudyard Kipling's phrase. What is 
this unaccountable glamour ? I ask — this intense fascina- 
tion, ever drawing on that strange child of the ages the 
irrepressible youth of England, to explore new lands and 
court new adventures. Some such indefinable power 
holds us in its magic grip at some period of our lives — 
sometimes later, often earlier — and urges us forward and 
onward, and we go. 

Despite the fierce tropical heat we spent two enjoyable 
days in Port Darwin — though I doubt whether the men 
at the winches enjoyed them. For, how the Menmuir 
manages to stow all the cargo she takes in at every port, 
must remain a dark mystery to landsmen for all time. 
Everybody, however, seems at peace with himself and the 
world at set of sun, and the evening whist on deck goes on 
with — I remember — a phenomenally uneven distribution 
of trumps and high cards, which left our veteran player 
nothing to lead from, little to lecture upon, and hardly 
a leg to stand on. 

At last we are off — Australia sinking astern — our prow 
turned towards the golden Chersonese of the ancients, the 
fabled lands of the sea-robbers, the prahu and the poisoned 
creeze of spice and cinnamon, nutmeg and pineapple, the 
domain of the Orang Laut — those Phoenicians of Pacific 
waters. Four hundred and thirty miles ahead of us 
stretches the great island of Timor, on the southern horn 
of which lies Dilli, our port of destination, one of the last 


strongholds of senile Portugal, erstwhile the successful 
trading rival of the stubborn Dutchman in these far-off 
tropic seas. About fifty hours out, passing Nusa Besi 
(Iron Island) we sight the distant peaks of Timor melting 
into the soft summer haze of the dying day, and early 
next morning we are lying inside the reef abreast of the 
little town with the magnificent name. For Dilli is the 
Malayan form of Delhi, wondrous city of palaces, one of 
the numerous Sanskrit place-names which have come 
floating down into Malayan on untold waves of migration. 
And here follows a singular dilemma or rather trilemma, 
somewhat after the fashion of the triangular duel in 
Marryat's immortal " Midshipman Easy." 

Our fellow-passenger, P. of Adelaide, has a number of 
samples of South Australian products, all excellent of 
their kind, to put upon the markets of the East. The 
question arises : How shall he set about in Timor ? The 
Portuguese Governor, so Captain Craig avers, doesn't know 
ten words of English, but knows a little French. The 
eager P. doesn't know a word of Portuguese, but from his 
schooldays preserves a sort of French that would be intel- 
ligible in Adelaide. There is an interpreter at Dilli, it is 
true, but his English is very limited. What is to be 
done? Suddenly it occurs to me that where there are 
Portuguese, there will be some sort of ecclesiastic. All 
ecclesiastics understand Latin of a sort, even though it be 
that of Jerome or Augustine. Let us therefore have at 
them in good Ciceronian Latin, and expound unto the 
shepherds of the people the products of the magic land of 
South Australia. 

So the very first night out, a most elaborate document 
is drawn up and duly set forth, describing the fertility of 
the great Provincia Australis, her groves of olives, yield- 
ing vats of yellowest oil, her cornfields white with nodding 
harvests of barley, wheat and rye, of African sorghum and 
the tasselled corn of America, telling of her vineyards 
crested with black and golden grape-clusters, and the 


generous liquor expressed therefrom, grateful alike to 
Caesar and peasant, to Pope and to priest. 

Mention is made of flocks and herds — innumerable 
as the finny droves of Ocean — that browse upon wide 
green pastures watered by mighty rivers ; of the salted 
hindquarters of noble swine (" Terga porcorum salinata 
nobilium ") and the flesh of goodly beeves and sheep, and 
delicious broth from their tails, encased in brazen pots 
where corruption cannot enter in nor the smell of decay 
mar their savour. " Pinguium caro bovum atque ovium 
intra vasa ahenea involuta. Neque deest jus caudarum, 
decoctio quaedam maxime saporosa, ubi corruptio non 
potest intrare." (Ye ghosts of great Caesar and Apicius, 
what think ye of this for hams, and the tinned meats and 
soups of commerce ?) One suddenly-remembered tag from 
an Eton gradus helps us out of a difficult corner. It ran 
Candiduli divina tomacula porci, "Heaven-flavoured sausages 
of whitish pork? This and Heaven knows what sad 
stuff beside, all reeled off in sonorous Latin, ridiculously 
pat and to the point, and may all the Caesars, Christian 
saints, and Pagan heroes and poets downwards, forgive 
a stranger, and an Englishman, too, for misusing their 
mother tongue so damnably. 

It was indeed quaint reading, left-handed and incon- 
gruous : and the thing came off, reader, the thing came 
off. We went ashore and looked up the Governor, who 
called in the Bishop of the diocese to give a churchman's 
opinion on a thesis that sorely taxed the Latinity of the 
lay mind. To see the good Bishop calmly and seriously 
reading off sentence after sentence, and halting here and 
there in mild doubt — then suddenly grasping the thing 
and translating it bit by bit into current Portuguese — 
cruelly tried our stoicism, as we sat by grave as judges 
but racked with inward laughter. When some corollary 
about woollen goods and hosiery was being sonorously read 
in some fearful dog-Latin, I felt I could not hold out much 
longer, and was seriously thinking of making a bolt for 


the door, when the catalogue ended. The Governor gave 
a liberal order, which was promptly filled. Up to present 
date, however, I have never learned that my good old 
friend or his firm ever recovered one farthing for the 
goods supplied. That's the worst of dealing with Portu- 
guese. They are a most unreliable lot. It seems to 
cause them no uneasiness whatsoever to incur an obliga- 
tion which they know very well they have no funds to 
meet. It was just the same at Hong Kong the other day, 
when one of the Sikh non-com. 's, who are great money- 
lenders, summoned a Portuguese. The defendant had 
borrowed considerable sums, and, after losing the money 
in gambling, calmly declined to pay, and somehow got off 
scot-free ! The injured plaintiff took the matter pretty 
coolly, remarking that he thought it rather hard to lend 
out money and lose principal and interest too. The 
defaulter simply grinned provokingly, and said he didn't 
care a straw. And I don't suppose the Governor of Timor 
cares either. He has, doubtless, eaten the beef and bis- 
cuits, relished the wine and oil, and dismissed the vexatious 
trifle of payment for ever from his memory. 

During our visit we find that one of the tribes in the 
neighbourhood has risen in revolt. There has been a 
skirmish in the bush ; the Portuguese have of course won 
a glorious victory, but the enemy are unaccountably left 
in possession of the field of battle, and a considerable 
number of men and officers are laid up in hospital. Our 
good-natured Captain gave two or three of the poor little 
widows of the fallen men a free passage up to Hong Kong, 
en route for Macao — the sheet anchor of Portugal in the 
China Seas. In return for this service the Portuguese 
some months later bestowed on our Captain Hugh an 
elaborate decoration, which pleased the good old fellow 

The doctor and one of our party went off into the 
interior on stout Timor ponies. The rest of us strolled 
aimlessly along the sea-front. We meet a grimy little 


boy parading around with a lemon-crested cockatoo. 
" How muchee ? " says P. " No intendo. No savee," 
jerks out the urchin, and is gone down the road like a 
flash. We meet a man with a wizened-looking monkey, 
both looking as if life had used them badly. " How 
muchee?" once more demands the Inquisitor-General. 
" No savee," replies the terrified man, and clutching the 
poor little beast tight, turns and clears out for his life. 
We enter a shop and demand to see some goods. Again 
" No savee," sulky looks and muttered grumblings. Re- 
sisting with difficulty a strong desire to break somebody's 
head, we rally our forces, and enter a long thatched house 
by the roadside, where some natives are chewing betel-nut, 
with calabashes of sweet coconut toddy by their side for 
sale. Sorely smitten with thirst we attempt to deal. 
Again arises the eternal " No savee," and the idiots clear 
out, calabashes and all, as if the devil was at their heels. 
At last we meet one of the Portugese non-coms., whose 
company has been so roughly handled in the late action, 
and who explains the extraordinary behaviour of the 
people by suggesting that they take all English heretics 
for cannibals and fiends with tails like scorpions. Perhaps 
they really do. 

Timor is very much like any high basaltic island in the 
Pacific — the beach fringed as usual with groves of coconut 
palms, with plenty of lemon hibiscus, pandanus, and native 
almond trees growing by the roadside. Its dense popula- 
tion is of mingled Malay and Negrito. The great extent 
and fertility of the island will in the near future render it 
a most attractive field for the botanist, the zoologist, and 
the philologist. Later on, in Macao, I was so fortunate 
as to receive from a worthy Jesuit Father a Portuguese 
vocabulary and grammar of the Teton dialect, which is a 
most bizarre and curious one, containing very many ancient 
word-forms akin to the Polynesian. 

As I found out afterwards from further information 
carefully collected and sifted, Timor was anciently an 


important point in the migrations of the Malayan race, in 
whose calendar Timor is still preserved to denote the East 
Quarter, side by side with the more modern term Masrak 
(Arabic Maskrik). 

The easternmost province of Yap is Tomil. 

In the Sulu Archipelago the east is Timol. 

In the Mariannes the northern quarter is Tirni. 

In the Pelews the southern quarter is Dimis and Ditnus. 

In the Pilam dialect of Eastern Formosa the west is 

All variations of the ancient Malayan geographical 
name denote different points of the compass. So we may 
safely take Timor to have been one of the early homes of 
the Malayo-Polynesian, or, as some will have it, the Poly- 
nesian folk, ere they dispersed themselves wave upon 
wave, flotilla upon flotilla, on their long ocean wanderings. 

After taking cargo aboard we leave the same evening 
and are soon past the south end of Kambing (Goat) 
Island. After leaving Sula Besi, Limbi and Banka 
behind, towards sunset on the 24th we fall in with the 
S.S. Tsinan going southward, threading our way the while 
through a multitude of carefully charted islands. A few 
days later we find ourselves skirting the west side of 
Mindoro. Every day now brings us nearer to our journey's 
end, and one lovely starlit evening we raise the well- 
known Peak, and a little later, amidst a host of shipping, 
great and small, we drop anchor a few hundred yards off 
the Praya or sea-front of the city of Victoria — the capital 
of Hong Kong. This and Singapore are the two keys to 
the gate of our commerce in the East, which the Pope or 
Czar, mighty though they be, shall never grasp, whilst 
British iron and gold and silver and steel shall last, and 
while British pluck and enterprise shall endure to hold 
fast the empire that Britain's sons have so greatly toiled 
to win. 



IN these stirring days of travel all the English-speaking 
world, or nearly all, should know the city of Victoria 
— the threshold of the gorgeous East, worn by the count- 
less feet of tourists on their nineteenth century pilgrimage 
in search of the strange and the rare. Victoria, the 
wondrous emporium of silks, teas, and curios, cunning 
bronze and silver work and quaint ceramics, ductile metal 
and fictile earth, obedient to the deft hand of the subtle 
Child of the Yellow Clay, teeming in his industrious 
millions. Time and space forbid me to describe at length 
the Lower Town with its steep narrow lanes and sky- 
scraping dwelling houses tenanted by untold thousands of 
the poorer Chinese, huddled together upon narrow noisome 
areas ; the solid and splendid buildings of the European 
merchants facing the craft-encumbered sea — the terraces 
and high white walls and domes of the Middle Town, the 
princely abodes of wealthy merchants. The Upper Town, 
high on the breezy hills, is reached by that engineering 
marvel, the Peak Railway, running up the steepest of in- 
clines, through plantations of fir and larch and a hundred 
other woodland trees that clothe the gaunt hillside, the 
happy result of a grand Afforestation Scheme to fight the 
island fever that proved so deadly in the early years of 
British occupation. Below stretches a wonderful view of 
the native and foreign shipping in harbour, of the penin- 
sula of Kowloon and its busy docks and stores across 
the water, and in the background the grey barren hills of 
China loom skyward. A week of wonders ashore, and I 
left by the Menmuir for Shanghai and Kobe, just to catch 


a passing glimpse of these two famous cities of the East, 
before setting out for Manilla and my yet far-off goal, the 
Carolines. I will set down here no thrice-told tale of 
places which have already been so well described by the 
omnivious and omnivorous tourist. Suffice it to say that 
I saw the sights of Shanghai, " did " the " Bubbling Well 
Road," and practised with great satisfaction on the magni- 
ficent cricket ground. My visit to Kobe, one of the 
Treaty Ports of Japan, was a most enviable experience. 
Here I met also with the greatest kindness and hospitality 
from the European residents. 

The temples of Kyoto, the ancient capital of the Land 
of Niphon, where I stayed two days at the far-famed 
hostelry of Yaami, were a glory and a revelation to me. 
I wandered in the halls, cloisters, and gardens of Nishi- 
Hongwanji and her sister Buddhist shrine, and marvelled 
at the carvings of Hidoro Jingoro, the left-handed artist 
of cunning. I saw the Shinto sanctuary of Inari-Sama, 
the Fox-god and the guardian sentinels Ama-Inu and 
Koma-Inu, prototypes of our Lion and Unicorn, and heard 
the solemn chimes of the Temple bells ringing out in the 
midnight stillness. 

I conversed with polite samurai, and traversed miles of 
street in rickety rickshas. I revelled in the island beauties 
gemming the Inland sea, and viewed marvelling the grimy 
procession of the basket-bearing damsels of Moji and 
Shimonoseki, passing like imps of Eblis, along our gang- 
way with supplies of coal to help us southward. 

Then back again for a brief space to the cheery life of 
Hong Kong with its cricket matches and dinner parties. 
Here I met several old London friends, amongst them 
the Hon. Stewart Lockhart, one of the most accom- 
plished Chinese scholars in the East, who has since suc- 
ceeded to the post of Colonial Secretary, for which his zeal 
and fine abilities had already marked him out. By his kind 
offices I received ample credentials from the Governor, 
Sir William Robinson, to the Spanish Governor-General 


of the Philippines, requesting him to direct his subordinates 
in the Eastern and Western Carolines to render me all 
possible assistance in my explorations. This stood me 
in good stead, and it is hardly anticipating matters to here 
very cordially thank the Spanish officials for the polite- 
ness and hospitality they always showed me during my 
travels in their possessions. 

A fortnight after my return from Japan saw me off for 
Manilla via Amoy on a dark and drizzly evening, by the 
good steamer, Esmeraldafighlmg her way through the tum- 
bling seas in the teeth of a strong north-easter. Amoy — 
a great centre for the coolie traffic — is just like other large 
Chinese towns, laid out in the usual narrow and abominably 
filthy streets. An interesting local industry was seen in 
elaborate carvings in steatite or soap-stone. Of these I 
obtained some fine specimens at a moderate price. Down 
to Manilla we had rather a rough passage, which Captain 
Taylor, our genial skipper, managed none the less to 
enliven, and on the fifth night out I was glad enough to 
spy the lights of Manilla twinkling ahead through the 
gloom as we worked our way cautiously through the 
wide and shallow bay leading up to the capital of the 
island of Luzon. The population here, like the hill-tribes 
of the neighbouring island of Formosa, form the northern- 
most wave of migration from Indonesia and the Malay 
Archipelago, the teeming mother hive of the brown race, 
which occupies places so far apart as Madagascar and the 
myriad isles of the wide Pacific area. 

Next morning we found ourselves anchored some little 
way out from the mouth of the Pasig River, which is so shal- 
low a stream that even here vessels drawing above thirteen 
feet cannot enter. On our left lay the business suburb of 
Binondo, with its wharfs and counting-houses, with a 
number of small inter-island trading steamers and sailing 
vessels of every kind of rig drawn up alongside. We saw 
also numerous Banka or native craft (Javanese Wang- 
Kang) from which the South Sea Island canoe seems to 


have been named {cf. Polynesian dialects Wanga, Waka, 
Vaka, Va'a, and Wa'a). The Customs Officials were 
rather late aboard, and it was not until nearly sunset that 
I found myself ensconced bag and baggage in a com- 
fortable upper room of the British Club-House in the 
suburb of Nagtahan, some three miles out of town. It 
lies overlooking a sharp elbow of the river, a substantial 
building embowered in palms and ornamental trees and 
shrubs, formerly the country residence of a Spanish official. 
The next few days were spent in driving about the city 
and suburbs, and visiting the quaint Old Town and Fort 
across the river, with its massive walls, drawbridges, and 
weed-choked moats, looking for all the world like a bit 
out of the Middle Ages. I do not here propose to give 
a full account of all the architectural beauties of Manilla, 
interesting though they are. The churches are legion, the 
most conspicuous being the fine new one of San Sebastian, 
with a double spire, in the Quiapo quarter. In Tondo 
ward, that of St Nino, a conspicuous landmark ; and in 
Binondo, that of Santa Cruz. In Old Manilla, where 
monks and priests and friars do mostly congregate, are 
some magnificent edifices belonging to the great religious 
orders of St Domingo, St Augustino, and St Francisco. 
The Jesuit Cathedral of St Ignacio is a superb building 
within and without, and the chapel of the Capuchins — 
the poorest of the orders — is also worth seeing. Up to the 
date of the Filipino revolt and the American war, which 
almost marched side by side with it, the priestly orders 
possessed broad lands and ample revenues, and wielded 
enormous power over the indolent and superstitious races 
of the land. But since then the Wheel of Fortune has 
come round with a vengeance. To-day the men of the 
Black Robe are in sad straits as were ever the saints of old 
— threatened, plundered, beaten, tortured, burnt, impaled, 
crucified, and this by the very natives who a year or two 
ago were kneeling to them for a blessing, or imploring 
pardon and protection as from semi-divine beings. 


But then these things were hidden from me, as I held 
my peace, looked and marvelled. In company with one 
or other of the Macleod brothers, heads of two important 
mercantile houses, I went through the bustling quarter of 
Binondo with its banks, offices, counting-houses, stores, 
timber yards, quays and wharfs. It is connected with the 
Old Town over the water by three bridges of stone and 
iron, the most important of which is the Puente D'Espana, 
over which all day long passes a continual stream of traffic. 
Down the middle of Binondo runs a fine street, the Escolta, 
traversed by a horse-tramway plying out to the districts 
of Tondo, Sempalok and Santa Misa. Along the Escolta 
lie the principal shops and cafes. Away to the left is 
artisans' quarter, full of odd little shops, stores and the 
bazaars owned by the Chinese and native half-breeds, of 
whom there are some seventy thousand in Manilla city 
and wards. Still further to the left lies the insanitary 
native quarter of Tondo, in early days the seat of an 
independent Kingling or Rajah, with a population of over 
seventy thousand, mostly of the poorer class. It is situated 
on low marshy ground, intersected by numerous canals 
half choked up with animal and vegetable refuse. Malarial 
fevers, small-pox and other zymotic diseases, as may well 
be imagined, are pretty common here. In fact the annual 
death-rate from these causes is terribly heavy. The parish 
is one enormous mass of palm-thatched dwellings, with 
walls and floorings of light cane, raised on a framework 
of wooden poles a few feet above the pools of stagnant 
water that day and night send up their exhalations. On 
Good Friday morning in 1895 one of these huts caught 
fire, and the conflagration, fanned by a strong breeze, 
marched two miles in the space of half-an-hour. 

From Tondo a line of steam-trams runs to the village of 
Malabon some seven miles out, so lately a scene of battle 
and carnage, where are the go-downs and works of the 
Luzon Sugar-Refining Company. In time past Malabon 
was a centre of the tobacco industry, which has since been 


nearly strangled in the clutch of Government monopoly. 
A number of natives are still employed by a local firm in 
manufacturing the commoner classes of cigars, of which 
there is an enormous annual consumption. On the way 
to Malabon the tram-line runs through the village of May- 
payo, where there is a cock-pit keenly attended on Sun- 
days and holidays by the local fancy. Parallel with this 
sporting rendezvous, a few hundred yards back through 
the palms and bamboos lies the village of Caloocan, the 
scene of the late furious engagement between the American 
forces and the Filipino rebels with their Igorrote allies, 
and the first station of the solitary railway of Luzon which, 
starting from the terminus at Tondo, runs through the 
Kandava marshes skirting the Pampanga border, and up 
to the port of Dagupan, the centre of a fertile rice and 
hemp-producing district. Taken all in all the scenery of 
the outskirts of Manilla is very rich and picturesque. 
There are rice-fields and clearings for growing bananas, 
taro and sweet potato, overshadowed by masses of Bolinao, 
areca, sago, and coconut palms, topes of mango and of 
native chestnut {Dungun), clumps of towering cane 
(Kauaian and Boko). Here the spreading umbrella-like 
leafage of the native almond (Talisai), there the yellow- 
wreathed glories of the graceful Cananga (Ilangilang). 
In between all nestle the frail cane and nipa huts of the 
natives, lying back half merged in the bowery wilderness. 
Every day brought new sights and scenes, and regularly 
at sunset we used to visit the Luneta or Half-Moon 
Esplanade on the sea-side beyond the Old Fort, where 
crowds of citizens, rich and poor, stream out in the cool 
of the evening in every description of vehicle to enjoy the 
fresh sea-breeze, to hear the band play in the Kiosk, and to 
gossip and promenade up and down under the long flash- 
ing arc of electric lights. I saw the Carabao or native 
buffalo harnessed to uncouth waggons drawing timber, 
and watched a close-packed herd of these ugly beasts 
wallowing in their noondav bath of mud and water, nose 


to nose and horn to horn. I inspected factories of 
tobacco and hemp — the two great staple trades of Man- 
illa — and examined the delicate fabrics of Jusi and Pifia, 
a famous Philippine industry well known and valued in 
the marts of the East. I bought several Panuelos, speci- 
mens of the latter stuff, which is composed of the fibres 
of the pineapple leaf worked into an exquisite filmy 
tracery, resembling the finest Brussels lace, the designs 
on the border being taken from native trees, fruits and 

I attended a grand Fiesta at Malate, interminable pro- 
cessions passing down the village street all day, the houses 
hung with gay banners, and after dark a glorious supper- 
party of the European residents followed by a brilliant fire- 
work display, and songs, music, cards and dancing, lasting 
well into the small hours. Some pleasant evenings were 
spent with the Spanish residents, whose hospitality fully 
bore out the old Castilian tradition. I took many country 
walks, and found the peasantry good-natured folk. Only 
it struck me as curious that the village children would 
always clear out at the sight of the Castila y by which 
name all Europeans alike are designated outside the 
Metropolis. Is it not a lively recollection of the early 
Spanish methods of conversion and conquest, which the 
milder rule of the present day has not yet succeeded in 
effacing ? 

I spent one lovely morning in going through the 
Botanical Gardens near Malate, where I greatly admired 
the palms and ferns, as well as the rich flowers and 
foliage of ornamental shrubs and trees under cultivation. 
I succeeded in obtaining two monster packages of 
specimen seeds to forward to the energetic Curator of the 
Gardens at Port Darwin. 

One Sunday Macleod and I indulged in a journey up 
the line to a big Pampanga village to view the national 
sport. They gave us the seat of honour above the cock- 
pit, whence we witnessed some sharp combats of warlike 


roosters before a large and excited audience of natives and 
half-castes who staked their money as freely and merrily 
as holiday makers at Epsom. Next evening we visited 
the European Opera House at the foot of the Calle del Iris, 
heard some interminable music and songs, and went away 
rather bored. At the native theatre in Sempalok we 
saw a drama in Tagala dialect, a highly comical perfor- 
mance, where a poor Christian knight of Manilla wooes the 
daughter of a " Moro " or Mahometan Rajah of the Sulu 
Islands, wins her, and carries her off with all her wealth 
after slaying her infidel father. 

In company with a mestizo interpreter I entered 
several native markets, Tiangui or Tianggi (Mexican 
Tianquiz), taking down careful notes of all the odd fishes, 
fruits and vegetables, laid out for sale in the stalls. 

The sight of my notebook and pencil so busily em- 
ployed aroused a deep suspicion amongst the simple- 
minded vendors of fish and buffalo-beef, shrimps and 
mussels, squid and sausages, taro and tomatos, onions 
and bananas, yams and garlic, cabbages and coconuts, 
sour toddy and medicinal barks. One and all they took 
me for a local official, genus informer, entering in his 
black book made-up complaints against the quality of 
their wares, in order to extort money on his own account 
out of their poor little profits. When assured of the real 
nature of my errand they marvelled, but being by nature 
pleasant people, they willingly gave me plenty of curious 

I called on the British Consul, presented my letters 
from Hong Kong, and received the desired credentials 
from General Blanco to his subordinates in Yap and 
Ponape. Then I saw the head of the Capuchin Mission, 
to whom was entrusted the spiritual welfare of the wild 
Caroline islanders. He received me very kindly, and 
presented me with Spanish vocabularies of the Yap and 
Ponapean dialects. I secured further secular aid by 
engaging as general utility man and photographer in one, 


a quarter-caste from the Province of Pampanga, a quiet 
and docile fellow, but weak and unstable as water, who, 
little guessing what troubles lay before him in savage 
ands, recklessly " signed on " in a spirit of adventure. 

Well, everything was in order at last for my departure. 
Two passages were taken on board the mail-steamer 
Venus of the Planet Line, for her bi-monthly trip to the 
distant outlying possessions of Yap, Guam and Ponape. 
She was to leave at noon on the Sunday (Dec. 1 7th), 
so I sent the lad on board overnight to take charge of the 
baggage. Next day at Nagtahan, sad to say, it was late 
when Willie Macleod and I arose. Hurriedly we got 
through our lunch and drove down in hot haste to the 
wharf at Binondo. Plenty of steam launches and small 
craft lying at the water side, but never a soul stirring to 
take us aboard ; and, to add to our perplexity, a distant 
warning whistle from the steamer lifting anchor down the 
Bay. In desperation we searched about, forcibly im- 
pressed two half-sober wharf loafers and a fuddled 
mestizo engineer out of one of the cafes, laid violent 
hands on a launch, and were away down the Bay as hard 
as steam would drive us. And none too soon. The 
Venus is slowly moving off. In reply to our frantic holloas 
and gestures, in the midst of which the excited engineer 
nearly falls overboard, the good-natured Spanish captain 
stops his vessel in her course, and she lies beating the water 
with reversed screw. A steam launch hissing shoreward 
nearly runs us down. In it was my Manilla man seated 
upon a whole pyramid of bags and boxes, his and mine, 
which, thinking for certain I had missed my passage, he 
was dutifully taking ashore. When he saw us his face fell 
like mercury before a storm. I roared to him to come 
along, and he meekly followed our craft to the gangway let 
down for us. Master and man climbed up, a thought taken 
aback at arriving in such dramatic fashion. Not a word 
of reproach from the Captain, only a little good-natured 
chaff. This forbearance of a choleric ocean potentate 


and a bit of a martinet reflects infinite credit on Spanish 

The aforesaid Captain and the new Spanish Governor 
going out with us to the Mariannes were mightily amused 
when they heard of the impressed steam-launch driven by 
a strange engineer hauled head and shoulders out of a 
wine-shop. They also made merry over my Manilla lad. 
The poor creature, obedient to my orders, turned up early 
on Saturday evening to look after the luggage. Feeling a 
bit dull, he fell into talk with the ship's boys, and they filled 
his noddle with all sorts of horrible stories of cannibal 
" Carolinos," who, when he arrived at Ponape, would stick 
him full of javelins, and make a divining bowl of his skull. 
This wretched twaddle, and much more, Theodoro of 
course had taken for gospel, and all that Sunday morning 
had been peering wistfully over the side, longing to get 
ashore and have done with so perilous a service. 

Towards sunset we got into livelier water, and once out 
of the St Bernadino Straits into the open sea, the vessel 
rolled a good deal. My poor photographic artist, refusing 
alike solid food and liquid consolation, betook himself to 
a nice gloomy corner, where, stretched on his mat wrapped 
in an ancient cloak, he lay dismally brooding on the ills that 
awaited him in heathen lands oversea. In a comfortable 
deck chair I made myself quite at home, attentively 
conning over some Spanish books of travel. On my 
departure friends in Manilla had thoughtfully presented 
me with hundreds of cigars. Hence a contented mind 
and holocaust unending. 





IN a day or two we shook down into our places on 
board. The ship was lighted with electricity and com- 
fortably fitted up, the fare good, and there were plenty of 
Manilla boys who attended well to all our wants. I took 
a special liking to Sefior Marina, the newly appointed 
Governor of the Mariannes, who gave me some interesting 
facts about the islands, in which he was going to maintain 
law and order. Bound for the same port as myself is a 
brusque Ponapean trader, Captain N., who does not always 
appear to advantage, being taken alternately with fits of 
gaiety during which he tells good stories, and bearish 
moods in which it is hard to get a satisfactory word out 
of him. Is this type peculiar to the Carolines ? Another 
source of amusement is the Captain's dog Coco, a grossly 
fat, absurdly short-haired animal, with a hide the colour 
of an old copper coin and the temper of the traditional 
East Indian Nabob with a liver. The creature paces the 
slippery decks, growling at every lurch of the vessel, and 
snapping at the spray as it bursts up through the anchor 
chains. When feeding he growls, when fasting he growls. 
He was, however, left only one day without food, and this 
piece of neglect brought the lad in charge of him a smart 
taste of the rattan. The first and second engineers speak 
English very well, as is generally the case with those on 
the mail-service lines. Many of them, like my two ac- 
quaintances came from the Pyrenean Provinces in the 
north of Spain, and spent some years in the Engineering 
School of Instruction in Liverpool. Naturally our con- 


versation often turned on that philological puzzle, the 
Basque language. 

At noon on the seventh day out, we raise the western- 
most isle of the long Caroline Archipelago — variously 
termed Yap, Guap or Wap — a low-lying strip of land 
rising in the middle into a round plateau looking down 
upon an exquisitely green belt of coconut palms, and 
recalling exactly my impressions on sighting Tongatabu 
on my first Pacific island voyage. Slipping cautiously 
through the narrow reef-passage we enter Tomil Harbour, 
with the islands of Tarrang and Ngingich hard by, and the 
little Spanish settlement of Santa Christina on the islands of 
Tapalau and Belolach joined by a causeway, right in front 
of us, and are soon beleaguered by a number of native 
canoes and shore boats. To my disappointment Captain 
O'Keefe, to whom I have a letter of introduction, and who 
is to act as my banker and general business agent in these 
waters, is away on one of his long cruises in the Pelews 
and Central Carolines ; but has left in charge as foreman 
and general agent a certain Joe Mitchell, with whom I 
have no difficulty in making all necessary arrangements. 
To Mr E. Oppenheim-Gerard in charge of the station of 
the Jaluit Gesellschaft on Ngingich or Dunnitch I also 
presented my credentials when he came on board. I found 
him a most interesting comrade with a fund of varied and 
curious information. He pressed me to come ashore to 
dinner at sunset, and stay overnight at his place ; so as 
the steamer did not leave till noon next day, I gladly 
accepted his invitation. Theodoro had plucked up spirit 
wonderfully at the sight of land and got camera and 
plates into working order, and we went ashore about sunset 
well pleased with the prospect of strange sights in a strange 
land. A jovial evening was spent and the night was well 
advanced when we retired. Captain N., on business 
thoughts intent, elected to stay overnight upon O'Keefe's 
island close by. How he fared I cannot tell. 

Out of our table-talk I noted some peculiar facts about 


the people of Yap, and their language, which appears to 
be a crabbed form of some ancient Asiatic tongue allied to 
the Dravidian coloured with a tint of Malay and Japanese, 
and crossed or chequered, in a very remarkable way with 
unmistakable Polynesian words. 

We are up bright and early, the man with the camera 
first of all. 

The best photo he took was one of a group of natives 
with three women from the Fe-Bai or Lodge at Rul, with 
our kindly host a single splash of white in the background 
of seven ebony statues. 

At the steamer's first whistle reluctantly we made our 
way on board, promising our kind host to look him up 
without fail on my way back from Ponape, which promise, 
it will be seen, I faithfully kept. On my return to Yap 
I took many notes on the manners and customs of the 
natives — their antiquities, traditions and folklore, marine 
life, flora and geography — all of which I have reserved 
more appropriately for a later chapter ; our first glimpse 
of Yap being, as it were, a mere bird's-eye view, and as 
such I give it here. 

We noticed that the people were very much darker 
than the light brown folk of Polynesia, and that their 
canoes were on a different model, running up high bow 
and stern with a peculiar fish-tail ornamentation fore and 
aft, and fitted with a wide and heavy outrigger that must 
stand them in good stead in long sea-going voyages. 

Punctually at noon we are off, heading straight for 
Guam, which lies up some 400 miles to the N.E. towards 
the Bonins and Japan. This track is followed by the 
mail-steamers in order to avoid the dangerous reefs which 
surround the imperfectly charted islets of the Central 

During our voyage from Yap, Senor Marina, who 
seemed very well up in the history of his new dominions, 
gave me the following facts : Discovered by Magellan 
in 1 521 and Christianised about 1662, the islands of the 


Marianne or Ladrone group came under Spanish power. 
The present population is under ten thousand, of which 
more than two-thirds are located in Agafia, the metropolis 
and residence of the Governor. The native race are called 
Chamorros, and at the time of the Spanish conquests had 
reached some degree of civilisation and clan organisation, 
and had acquired no mean proficiency in agriculture and 

What mightily stirred my curiosity was an account 
given me by the Governor of some interesting ruins in the 
group. For more minute information he referred me to 
a chapter in a Spanish historiette published lately in 
Manilla, of which I subjoin a partial free translation. 

All over the Mariannes, in the seats of the native 
population, before their discovery by the white men, 
there exist certain pyramids and truncated cones, on the 
top of which are placed semi-esferas, i.e. half spherical 
bodies. These cones or pyramids on the island of 
Guahan do not exceed three feet in height, the diameter 
of the curious pieces on the tops being about two feet. 
Those seen on the island of Saipan near the village of 
Garapui on the west coast are somewhat larger and 
generally composed of stone. Amongst the natives these 
go by the name of Houses of the Ancients. They face 
each other in two parallel lines like a regular street. 
According to tradition the old inhabitants used to inter 
their dead in these houses or cairns. Many even of the 
present generation have a superstitious fear of touching 
the stones or cultivating the ground in their neighbourhood 
— a fear which is disappearing nowadays as shown by the 
fact that the Church of Tinian was partly constructed out 
of the ruins of one of these monuments. In 1887 a 
French naturalist, M. Alfred Marche, accompanied by the 
Spanish author referred to above and several Chamorro 
and Caroline natives, visited the site of some of the ruins 
on Tinian and Saipan. Those of the most imposing pro- 
portions are found on Tinian near the pueblo of Sinharon. 


One of these monuments is styled The House of Taga and 
measures four and a half metres in height, and one and a 
quarter in diameter at the base. On the top, which runs 
up to 75 of a metre in breadth, is placed a semi-esfera 
two and a half metres in diameter. 

The monuments are twelve in number, arranged in a 
double row as those in Saipan. Seven are standing, but 
cyclones have levelled five with the ground, showing 
clearly that they have no solidity of foundation. The 
distance between each of them and its neighbour in line 
is about one and a half metres, and that between the rows 
about four. The material is ordinary rubble from the 
coral-reefs mixed with a great quantity of mortar made 
of burnt coral lime and sand. One of these curious 
pyramids still standing had on its top a large bowl about 
five feet in depth. This, according to tradition, was the 
grave of Taga's daughter and in it, sure enough, the ex- 
plorers found some human bones ; but of these, unfor- 
tunately, no scientific measurements were recorded. This 
monument is at the end of the village and faces north-west. 

Thus far the Spaniard, and it is much to be hoped 
that some English explorer will try his luck in turn and 
furnish our scientists at home with fuller information 
upon the origin, design, and distribution of these singular 
structures of an all but vanished people. 

About sunset on Christmas eve, we sight the high table 
lands of Guam or Guahan. We draw in to a prospect of 
woods and green valleys, backed by steep cliffs and 
curiously shaped turreted masses of limestone rock, and 
finally drop anchor in Port Luis de Apra, about two miles 
off the little town, the water abruptly shoaling further 
inshore and blocked on every hand by coral-reefs. As 
there was nothing to be gained by going on shore long after 
dark, we deferred our landing till next morning. About 
nine o'clock a boat comes off, manned by a crew of natives 
under the command of the son of Joe Wilson, the pilot. 
We pulled in through the shallows marked out by a long 


line of stakes. Our way lay under the lee of Goat Island, 
the scenery of which much resembles that of Mauke in the 
Harvey Group. It is composed of honeycombed water- 
worn limestone of bluish grey tint, covered by a rich 
green mantle of forest and low scrub. The Thespesia, 
the Cycas circinalis {Fadan), and the Pandanus grow 
abundantly amongst the blocks and boulders, also the 
handsome large-leaved tree, the Puka or Pukatea of 
South Polynesia. 

Landing at Port Louis next morning behold a strange 
party setting forth for the interior in a strange vehicle, 
drawn by a stranger beast of burden. Captain N., his little 
daughter, myself and the Manilla man, all perched behind 
a red cow, who for evident reasons should have been 
exempt, and who, under protest and the propulsion of a 
small native boy armed with a switch sitting on her 
shoulders, drags our clumsy old Noah's ark through the 
ruts on a pair of wheels totally innocent of spokes and 
each being of one solid circular piece like a table top, 
hewn roughly out of Daok wood {Callophyllum). From 
Port Louis to Agafia is no very long journey, but it 
seemed an age getting there, and when we did get there, 
there wasn't very much to see. A little township of some 
six thousand souls, allowing a soul to each inhabitant, at 
least as far as the Catholic priests will permit them to own 
one. The Chamorros, though akin to their neighbours 
the Tagals and Pampangs of Luzon, whom the Spanish 
military system has quartered on them in the form of 
garrison, yet preserve some indefinable personality of 
their own. They are a pretty people, gentle, kindly, and 
reasonably honest. It is a pity so few of the old race 
are left — less than ten thousand I believe, and they mostly 
half-castes. But the narrative of " Kotzubue's Voyages " has 
given us one consolation. In it Chamisso tells us clearly 
of the emigration of the greater part of the Chamorros 
into the Central Caroline area, whither the cruelty of petty 
Spanish officials and the motherly solicitude of the In- 


quisition with its gentle persuasive measures, dared not 
and dares not to this day follow them. Chamisso, poet, 
dramatist and philologist, has told us of one good, honest 
Spanish governor, and one alone, who really understood 
these Ladrone islanders. From results, we may guess 
what the others must have been, despite the furious denial 
of the Spanish historian. None of these things troubled 
Captain N., who all the while was thinking of nothing but 
dollars and cents, nor Theodoro either, poor creature, who 
did what he was told to do, when he would much rather 
have sat idle and slept. He did not sleep and he did not 
sit idle. 

That afternoon I recollect to my infinite boredom, we 
interviewed a Japanese storekeeper, a Spanish padre, a 
Chamorro rice-farmer and a German trader, who barring a 
strong tendency to talk " shop," and nothing but " shop," 
seemed a decent fellow. He gave us a good Christmas 
dinner, and somehow our patient beast got us down to 
Port Louis that night about eleven. But it was hard 
lines on that cow. Thence on board and away next 
morning for another five days' tumbling and tossing, the 
wild winds whirring through our rigging as night and day 
we drone on and on into the south-east. 

On the ist January 1896, the Venus enters the harbour 
of Ascension, where the little white-walled Spanish Colony 
of Santiago lies, surrounded by a clearing on a slope by 
the waterside at the mouth of a wide creek, protected to 
the east and west by rude block-houses. I landed and 
presented my credentials to the Governor Don Jos6 Pidal, 
who scanned them and me narrowly, and appeared some- 
what chagrined at an Englishman being unable to speak 
Spanish like a native of Castille, after only two months' 
study of that interesting tongue. However, we contrived 
to make our meaning tolerably clear to one another. It 
turns out from the Governor's account that the ruins lie in 
a district hostile to Europeans, the rulers of which are 
only kept in good humour by the receipt of monthly sub- 


sidies. As late as six years ago they proved themselves 
treacherous and bloodthirsty to a degree. He tells me 
that the natives are savages no better than heathen Moors 
or Ethiopians, and that sundry ignorant and self-willed 
bigots of the Methodist Mission from Boston have been 
all the while stirring them up against their lawful rulers to 
the great detriment of Spanish prestige, and the glory 
of the Catholic Church. That extreme danger and much 
discomfort would accompany the quest, and that he him- 
self should be much concerned at an English visitor under 
Spanish protection risking his life for so doubtful an 
advantage as photographing old stone walls, and excavating 
uninteresting relics. Undeterred by this formidable picture, 
I still held firm to my purpose, and finally after much 
persuasion he yielded and gave his word under protest to 
do his best to assist me in my explorations. And this 
promise I must say he kept most truly and honourably, 
once especially at a rather critical time, where a weaker 
man might have yielded to native craft and subtlety. 

The interview over, and the required permission gained, 
with a light heart I introduced myself to the good 
Capuchin priests, Padres Saturnino and Augustino. I 
occupied all my spare time in studying a Spanish-Ponapean 
vocabulary and grammar, with which the head of their 
order had presented me in Manilla. 

My late fellow passenger, Captain N., with whom I am 
lodging pro tern., has once more turned gruff and snappish. 
He has plenty of hard work in hand, and is deeply 
immersed in business matters with his Madrid partner. 
The first few days hung somewhat heavy on my hands. 
The Manilla soldiery, who formed the garrison did not 
particularly interest me, though my photographer Theodoro 
fraternised with them readily enough. But there were 
always a few natives from over the water, or from the coast 
districts, pottering around the store, who had picked up 
a little broken English. Both the Governor and Captain 
N. advised me to wait until Henry Nanapei of Ronkiti 


came up from the South Coast, whom they declared to 
be the very man to help me to make a success of the 

One morning Captain N. expresses himself bluntly after 
the fashion of old trading skippers. " Ponape natives are 
a queer sort, but they aren't bad natives. They don't 
think much of killing a man. I know some of them down 
the east coast who'd like to have my head, sure enough, 
because I showed some Spanish men-of-war the way into 
one of their harbours in the last war. Go easy, my lad, 
go easy. They aren't like your quiet Tahiti and Samoa 
folk, but the real rough article and no mistake. You just 
remember that, and go easy with them, and you'll be all 
right. If you don't you'll get left, as sure as fate, as a 
good many others have been, that's all. So now you 
know what's what, and I can't stand here giving advice all 
day. It's none of my business after all. You stick 
to Nanapei and he'll see you through ; and the King of 
U is a good-natured cuss, drunk or sober. Old Lapen 
Paliker too is about as straight as they make them. Some 
of his people are sitting round outside now. You'd 
better go and yarn with them, and listen to a few of their 
lies. Just make friends with the old people first, give the 
girls some presents and the men a few sticks of tobacco, 
and you won't be able to get rid of the crowd. They'll 
talk with you all day, and want you to go and pay them 
a visit, and when they go home the story will go all 
round the island like a telephone, and maybe do you a 
lot of good. I'm busy. Now git ! " And I got. 

I soon made friends with the Paliker natives and their 
headman, who entertained me most hospitably for a 
couple of days at the little hillside settlement just below 
Chokach. I also visited the Ichipau, or King of U, and 
the Wachai of Chokach, whose respective territories 
bounded the colony in the north-east and north- 
west. The two chiefs were a curious contrast to one 
another. The former is a very genial old gentleman, and 


a great admirer of English and Americans. He is neither 
Protestant nor Catholic, and I am sorry to say I once 
caught him using pages of a Missionary Bible for pipe- 
lights. He joined in the native rising of 1887, was 
deported to Manilla, tried for his life, acquitted, feted, and 
sent back safe home again. Since then he has rarely 
known a sober moment. Every Sunday he appears in 
the colony gorgeous in an orange-coloured kilt, a black 
coat, and turkey-red shirt. Bottle under arm he marches, 
offering a dram to every European he meets in the fulness 
of his regal heart. The Spanish allow him about forty 
dollars a month to keep him in good humour, and thus as 
a rule he is able to pay his debts — a very rare thing in a 
native, and from its rarity much esteemed. The photo- 
graph shows him seated in front of his house near Auak, 
with the Likant or Queen, his children, and his faithful 
yellow dog, Clarita, by his side. The Prince of Chokach 
has a fancy for European garb. Like the King of U, he 
also was in the rising of 1887, and draws the same monthly 
salary. Unlike his brother monarch, he is a Catholic and 
a teetotaler, hoards his money, and lets his debts run on. 

A digression on the physical aspect and natural pro- 
ducts of Ponape, the chief island of the eastern Carolines, 
may enable the reader to picture our surroundings at 
this time. 

The area of the island of Ponape is some 340 square 
miles. It is surrounded by a barrier reef (paina) enclosing 
a lagoon (nallani) about a mile and a half in breadth, and 
of varying depth, studded in all directions with detached 
reefs (mat) and patches of live coral, the rapid growth of 
which on the south and south-west coasts bids fair to 
render navigation — except for the lightest canoes — an 
impossible task. On the north coast, however, the lagoon 
in many places is of considerable depth. In this lagoon 
are scattered thirty-three islets, mostly low and of coralline 
formation ; a few of them, however, are volcanic in origin. 
The principal of these are Langar, Parram, and the 


Mants on the north coast, Tapak and Aru on the north- 
east, and Mutok in the south. The limestone islets are 
called Takai-mai or Light-blue Stone, and those of basalt 
formation Takai-tol or Black Stone. 

Chokach has a remarkable scarp or precipice, the Paip- 
Alap, 937 feet in height, on the north side of it, where 
the columnar form of the basalt is very clearly defined. 
The glen below, tradition declares, was the quarry whence 
the early builders gathered the material for their wonder- 
ful works on the east coast, straight from the workshop 
of Nature. Langar is the headquarters of a German 
trading firm. 

The other islets are mere patches of sand and coral, 
overgrown with palm, pandanus and littoral shrubs, and 
visited occasionally by fishing parties. 

The principal harbours are six in number: (i) Ascension 
Bay in the north, at the mouth of the Pillapenchakola 
River, on the south bank of which stands the little Spanish 
colony of Santiago, with the peaks of Kupuricha and 
Telemir towering some 2000 feet high in the background. 
To the south-west is the great scarp of Chokach, a notable 
landmark far out at sea. (2) Port Aru, or Oa, on the 
U and Metalanim border, has a very narrow and tortuous 
entrance, and was the scene in 1890 of a brisk action, in 
which the Spaniards brilliantly carried the rebel defences 
from the sea. (3) Metalanim Harbour on the east, over- 
looked by Mount Takaiu, or the Sugar-loaf Peak, in the 
neighbourhood of which are the celebrated ruins. (4) 
Port Mutok, at the mouth of the Kiti river, with the 
peaks of Roi, Lukoila, and Wana in the background, with 
a remarkable obelisk-shaped rock, called by the native 
Chila-U, or the Adze-head, and by trading skippers, the 
" Sentry Box." (5) Ronkiti Harbour, at the mouth of 
the river of the same name, which rises in the slopes of 
Mount Tolokom, the highest peak in the island, judged to 
be 2861 feet high. (6) Ponatik or Middle Harbour, in 
South Metalanim. 


The island is divided into five districts, U, Chokach, 
Not, Kiti, and Metalanim ; the two latter with a popula- 
tion of i 300 and 1 500 respectively. The whole population 
is about 5000, living in Kanim or scattered open villages 
confined to the sea coast. They are Christianised, though 
some of them retain many of their old heathen practices. 
The north province of U is very mountainous, and some 
of the cliffs looking down upon the valleys show a very 
fine example of columnar basalt formation. The interior 
of the island is an almost impenetrable wilderness of 
densely wooded mountains and sierras, seamed with 
deep valleys, and ravines. The heavy annual rainfall 
sends down numerous torrents from the slopes of the 
mountains which form the central water-shed. A belt of 
swamp, covered by thick clumps of mangroves and other 
salt-water brush, surrounds the island. The mangrove 
belt at the mouth of the rivers is traversed by a network 
of shallow tau, or waterways, barely wide enough to allow 
a single canoe to pass. The scenery a little way up the 
stream is rich in beauty. The mangroves once pierced, 
one passes into a region of Nipa palm, tree-ferns, and tall 
trees interlacing overhead, hung with all manner of ferns, 
orchids, and creepers, the advance-guard of the hosts of 
the forest sweeping down upon the rich low levels. At a 
little higher elevation are found two varieties of the areca 
or betel-nut palm, which the Ponapeans, unlike the Malays 
and their Yap relations in the west, do not chew. Higher 
up still on the mountain slopes are found some valuable 
timber-trees (a full description of which as well as Ponapean 
economic shrubs and plants, will be found in the Appendix). 
Amongst the mountains there are some well-grassed table- 
lands admirably suited for the pasture of cattle. In the 
mountains behind Ronkiti is a lake swarming with huge 
eels. Other lakes doubtless exist, but unfortunately very 
little is known about the interior, of penetrating which the 
natives appear to have a superstitious dread. 

The most productive copra districts are Kiti and 


Chokach, and there is a considerable trade in fruit of the 
vegetable ivory palm. 

The climate is hot and moist, tempered from October 
to May by the trade wind blowing fresh and clear out of 
the north-east. The rainy season sets in about June, 
lasting to the end of September. This is the time of 
light variable winds, with frequent calms, with occasional 
heavy thunderstorms and south-westerly gales. Accord- 
ing to Dr Gulick's observations, the highest temperature 
marked in a period of three years was 31 "j° Cent. {i.e. 
about 87 Fahr.), and the lowest 21 (about Jo° Fahr.). 
The average temperature is 28*3° Cent. ( = about 8i° 
Fahr.). The annual rainfall is somewhat heavy. In the 
year 1890, observations taken on the Maria Molina hulk 
in Ascension Bay gave 230 days in the year on which 
rain fell, and a total rainfall of some 36 inches. 



SHORTLY after our visit to the Ichipau of U and his 
brother monarch of Chokach, we met Henry Nanapei 
on one of his visits to the Colony, who, on learning our 
needs, promptly agreed to place at our disposal the island 
of Nalap, just off the mouth of the Ronkiti River, on the 
south-west coast. Accordingly, after laying in various 
stores, and carefully stowing boxes, baggage, and photo- 
graphic apparatus, we borrowed a big canoe and two 
natives of Not to sail her, and slipped down the coast past 
the great crag of Chokach, the hill ranges of Paliker, the 
valley of the Palang River, and the round hill-tops of 
Marau and Tomara. The lagoon in many places is filled 
with stacks of living coral shooting up to within four feet 
of the surface. Shoreward the thick line of mangroves 
marks the region of the salt marshes girdling Ponape like 
a great green ribbon. This, as already mentioned, is 
seamed by myriad narrow lanes or waterways just wide 
enough for a single canoe to pass. When Ponape is fully 
civilised there will be need to elect a special Minister 
of the waterways for the effectual clearing and widening 
of these precarious channels. For the canals are hardly 
navigable, and, worse still, from time to time, a vigorous 
gale of wind brings down some great forest tree across 
the passage, blocking the way to all craft until some 
one comes with an axe or crosscut saw and removes it. 

We strike into the maze and pass swampy banks 
bordered by Nipa palms and tall forest trees, their boughs 
and trunks laden with drooping festoons of orchid, creeper, 

polypody, and lliana, and huge round, glossy green clumps 



of birds' nests firm-rooted in the fork where each sturdy 
branch springs out of the parent tree. A turn at length 
brings us in sight of the Ronkiti landing-place, called 
Chakar-en- Yap, i.e., The Yapmen's heritage, and we know 
that our journey is over. 

Nanapei took us over to see Nalap the same afternoon in 
his own boat. The islet lies out in the bay near the outer 
reef, some two miles off the mouth of the Ronkiti River, 
which waters a fertile valley of the same name, which Nana- 
pei has planted with enormous numbers of coconut palms. 
We returned to the mainland that evening, and next morn- 
ing bathed in the river, which near its mouth broadens out 
into a little lake, lively with the silvery arrows of darting 
fish, the palms fringing the banks mirrored to the life in 
the placid water. Here flits the kingfisher (Kotar) with 
a flash of sheeny blue. Fly catchers and honey-eaters 
chirrup in the tree-tops, and dragon-flies, gaudy with blue 
and brown, with red and orange, wheel and circle in the 
sleepy noontide. The whole valley is one great garden, 
sadly marshy in parts, but seemingly of a prodigious and 
inexhaustible fertility. A little dyking, ditching, and 
hedging would do no harm here. Sago-palms, bananas, 
mangoes, orange and lime trees, grow in the greatest 
magnificence. Great beds of wild ginger carpet the 
ground, sending up a pungent aromatic reek from their 
trodden leaves. Here and there peeps out from the green 
veil of forest a bit of rich russet thatch, a patch of yellow 
and brown house-wall of canes and reedgrass, occasional 
glimpses of native dwellings lying back in the shadow 
The valley is populous and the people industrious, for 
Nanapei has his folk well in hand. There is no lack of 
food in the land, for yams and taro are zealously culti- 
vated. A giant species of Arum {A. costatum) is especially 
noticeable. The Caroline islanders call it Pulak, the Poly- 
nesians Puraka and Kape or 'Ape. In the Philippines it 
is called Gabe. It has a very large tuber, but contains 
much acrid juice, only dispelled by long and careful cook- 


ing, and is only eaten in times of famine. There is quite 
a mixture of nationalities in Ronkiti. Men from Ruk and 
the Mortlocks are easily discerned by the enormous size 
of the lower lobe of their ears, unnaturally distended, 
loaded down with shell-ornaments, as is the custom of 
their race. There are some Pingelap and Mokil men, 
naive, awkward, and stolid, but cheerful and harmless folk, 
and there was a man from the remote islet of Nuku-Oro. 
His name was Caspar, and Nanapei employed him as 
carpenter and boat-builder — a very quiet, good fellow, who 
was delighted at my being able to converse with him in 
Samoan, to which the Nuku-Oro tongue bears an extra- 
ordinary resemblance. At the mouth of the river is the 
Chakar-en-Yap landing-place, where Nanapei has built a 
substantial wharf, boathouse, and storehouse. A steep 
road runs up the hill- slope behind to the main settlement 
on the plateau, where Nanapei has a pretty residence of the 
bungalow type, with a lawn in front dotted with rose- 
bushes and clumps of croton and scarlet hibiscus. 

We stayed two or three days below by the waterside, 
coming up hill for our meals, which were served either in 
Nanapei's house or that of his mother Nalio close by. 
Nalio, who has since unhappily died, was a lady of strong 
character and intelligence. She had a most kindly and 
charitable nature, which very much endeared her through- 
out the tribes, and doubtless brought many powerful 
local chiefs under the influence of her son. When every- 
thing was ready, Nanapei sailed us over to Nalap. The 
house he placed at our disposal was roomy and comfort- 
able, built of lumber, with all furniture complete, even 
to tables and chairs. There were two other house- 
holds on the island. The nearest to us was that of 
Judas, the native teacher, his wife and their boy called 
Chilon, a bright little fellow. An old fisherman and 
his wife, with a number of ugly yellow house-dogs, 
lived away on the further seaward horn of the islet. 
Close by Nalap was a tiny little patch or cay of sand 


covered with mangroves and ironwood trees. Here 
an old Gilbert islander, Te Bako, " the Shark" and his 
wife lived. In his youth a notorious homicide, but con- 
verted in middle life, he was now passing a hale and 
hearty old age, darkened by occasional fits of gloomy 
repentance. He said the ghosts of dead men wouldn't 
let him sleep at night, and at all hours of the darkness, 
storm or calm, one would see him out upon the reef with 
torch and spear vehemently striving by hard toil to quell 
both the devil within him and the devils that he declared 
were ever mocking and gibing at him from without. Fish 
he brought us in plenty, and was always glad of a bit 
of tobacco. Biscuit he also accepted thankfully. One 
stormy night, seeing him pitiably drenched and chilled 
through and through in the northerly gales, I offered him 
a little rum. This he refused, as a native rarely does, 
giving me plainly to understand that in his youth he had 
slain a relation in a drunken brawl. 

" There was a feast in the Moniap (Council Lodge). 
My head was hot with the Karuoruo {sour toddy). Words 
grew to a quarrel, and men fought. In the morning my 
brother {i.e. cousin) lay by me dead, and I was the man 
who had slain him. Bad is the strong liquor of Te-Aba 
(the Gilbert Islands), but worse is the fiery water of 
Te-Matang (the foreigner)." And the old man was 
quite right, for the drinking of coconut toddy has pro- 
duced frightful consequences in the Gilberts and the 
Marquesas. Indeed the total extinction of the latter 
islanders is now only a question of a decade. The opium 
of China, the rum and absinthe of the French, also work 
their havoc there. To these four grim foes add the 
Chinese leprosy and the measles and phthisis of Europe, 
which are pressing these hapless natives faster and faster 
to extinction. The Gilbert islanders will possibly just 
scrape clear and make a new start. But the Marquesan 
race is doomed — a bright and amiable people sinking 
down into lurid and smoky darkness. 


Many a talk had Te Bako and I on the verandah by 
night, whilst the Manilla man was snoring. The old 
warrior would tell of inter-island wars and of the coming 
of the Kaibuke, " tree-mountains " or foreign ships. For 
my part I would tell him of the great wars in England 
and America, France and Germany, and of the little wars 
in the Pacific, Kamehamahas' conquest of the Sandwich 
Islands, of Mataafa in Samoa, Pomare in Tahiti, Thakom- 
bau in Fiji, Te Whiti and Tawhiao in New Zealand. 
And the more I told him of these things the more eagerly 
he listened, like all the natives I have ever met. 

But my poor artist was another character altogether 

pretentious child of an effete civilization. He dared to 
look down upon the magnificent old barbarian, who late 
in life was himself crushing out the inherited savagery 
of generations of fierce warriors and sea rovers. The 
Gilbert islander eyed the Manilla citizen askance, sized him 
up as a poor sort of creature, and despised him then and 
there. Theodoro for his part, as much as possible kept 
out of Te Bako's way, and always carried about with him 
a small revolver for fear of accidents ! And this was the 
beginning of the terrors that his prophetic soul saw loom- 
ing up before him on the steamer, that eventful Sunday 
of our start from Manilla Bay. 

A term of serene and glorious weather succeeded. The 
days glided by filled up with excursions on the reef and 
in the lagoon, and occasionally to the mainland. My 
evenings, as a rule, were given up to the fascinating study 
of the Ponapean language and its curious idioms. Here 
I laid the groundwork of a Ponapean dictionary contain- 
ing some four thousand words, since much elaborated and 
added to. The results obtained stood me in good stead 
during the rest of my stay on the island, upon which I 
found there were two dialects spoken by the tribes on the 
East and West coast respectively, mutually intelligible, 
but each with many words peculiar to its area, and a 
number of minor local variations, mostly vowel changes. 


As an instance of the former, Taip is the East-coast word 
for the Pandanus, called Kipar on the Western side. The 
varying local names for the Morinda citrifolia — Umpul, 
Wompul and Weipul — show the vowel-changes. Not to 
detain the reader over the dry bones of philology, I will 
merely remark here that the Ponapean language is full of 
diphthongs, and that in grammar it seems to form a con- 
necting link with the languages of Malaysia, with the 
somewhat complicated tongues of Melanesia, and the later 
and abraded forms of the Polynesian area. It has very 
many cognate words with those of the dialects of the 
Philippines and the Kayan and Dayak of Borneo. The 
simple root-words mostly consisting of one or two syllables 
are akin to those of the Indian hill-tribes, apparently belong- 
ing to the primitive Aryan substratum. 1 The letter-sounds 
F and V are conspicuously absent, their places filled 
respectively by P, which also does duty for B, and by 
W, agreeably to the precepts laid down by the father of 
Sam Weller. H is never heard, even in words cognate with 
Polynesian. Cf. Polynesian Hetau, Fetau, a Callophyllum. 

Ponape, Ichau id. 

Polynesian, Hetu, Fetu, a star. 

Ponape, Uchu id. 

Polynesian, Hoto, Foto, a barb ; prickle, sting. 

Ponape, Och, id. 

Polynesian, Hitu, Fitu, seven. 

Ponape, Ichu id. 

(But Polynesian Hatu, Fatu, a stone ; we find Ponapean 
Pat.) where by analogy one would expect Ach or Ech. 

The verbal roots are most elaborately modified by the 
addition of qualifying suffixes, which gives great flexibility 

1 This I know has been called in question, as well as the wider theory 
involved of the overflowing and infiltration of words cognate with Aryan 
roots into the Polynesian area. Yet after most careful and minute inquiry, I 
feel bound to range myself on the side of Fomander, Tregear, Percy Smith 
and the Rev. J. Fraser. Those interested further in the subject I may refer 
to my comparative Table of some 40,000 Micronesian and Indonesian words 
published shortly in the Journal of the Polynesian Society of New Zealand at 


and even elegance to a tongue which at first strikes one as 
rather harsh. 

A common prefix to names of birds and fishes is Li, 
i.e. Woman. 

It also occurs very frequently in compound words 
denoting qualities or actions held in light esteem. 

Cf. lA-kam, a lie, i.e. a woman 's fault. 

\J\-ngarangar, Fury, passion, i.e. a woman's angry voice. 

lA-porok, Curiosity, i.e. a woman's peering. 

Uv-motigin, Conspiracy, i.e. a woman's whispering. 

But lA-mpok denotes deep, sincere affection, i.e. a 
woman's love. 

\Ji-pilipil, Favoritism, i.e. a woman's choice. 

In Chinese we find the word for woman affixed to many 
uncomplimentary adjectives. 

I pass rapidly over our life upon Nalap, somewhat un- 
eventful, save that one evening we were nearly cap- 
sized on a shoal called the Horseheads, where two years 
ago one of the Kiti chiefs was upset, and lost an entire 
set of false teeth supplied him by a compassionate Spanish 
doctor in Ascension Bay. One little expedition of mine, 
however, is worth noting. Guided by Harry Beaumont, 
Nanapei's chief carpenter, I walked from Ronkiti through 
the woods to Annepein, through a picturesque but also 
sadly swampy district, stopping on the way to notice the 
Tumulus of Kona the Giant, which lies in a clearing 
dotted sparsely with wild pandanus trees, which give the 
name to the neighbouring settlement of Kipar. The 
mound or barrow is about ten feet in height, twenty in 
breadth, and about a quarter of a mile in length. It is con- 
siderably overgrown with a tangle of creepers and hibiscus. 

The name Kona also occurs in Hawaiian and Peruvian 
as the name of a giant. The local tradition runs to the 
effect that a giant was buried here with his body on land, 
and his legs stretching seaward to the little islets of 
Kapara and Laiap, lying out near the edge of the lagoon. 
The Spanish historian Pereiro sets the mound down, and 


I think correctly, as a construction for defence or a ceme- 
tery wherein they interred the dead after a great battle. 
I had no implements for excavation handy, and soon after- 
wards the absorbing interest of exploring the Metalanim 
ruins quite engrossed my attention. But I mention the 
Barrow of Kipar, hoping that the next explorer here will 
come better provided, and that here also diligent excava- 
tions may bring to light many interesting relics of the 

We received a good many visits from time to time on 
Nalap from the district chiefs, and saw a couple of whaling 
vessels and one Honolulu trading schooner enter and 
leave Ronkiti harbour, also a copra-laden vessel from 
Nagasaki, with a Japanese crew and skipper. We also 
had an enjoyable two days' visit to our Paliker friends up 
the coast, marred only by the discomfort on our journey 
up, of missing the right landing-place in the twilight 
amongst the dense mangrove thickets, and remaining 
moored all night in utter darkness cooped up in our 
narrow craft under a terrific tropical downpour. Next 
morning, chilled to the very bone, we struggled up to the 
little hill settlement, where the warmth of our reception 
speedily made us forget all our miseries. A mighty feast 
was prepared for us, there was Kava-making, there were 
speeches and orations, and the proceedings closed with an 
exposition of native dancing and singing. The second 
day was a repetition of the first, and after delighting our 
good old host, the village headman, with a present of knives 
and tobacco, we sailed back again to Nalap, where we 
found the Spanish gunboat Quiros in harbour. Nanapei 
introduced me to her commander, Don Miguel Velasco, 
who very kindly invited us all three to go down with him 
to visit the Ant Islands, which lie about twelve miles off 
the west coast. They were colonised from Kiti as the 
Pakin group, a little to the northward was from Chokach. 
The Ant's are a cluster of thirteen small and two larger 
islets, disposed in the usual horse-shoe formation, the prin- 


cipal entrance being the Tau-en-iai or Channel of Fire at 
the south end of Kalap, the largest, upon which live 
about thirty of the Kiti folk, engaged in collecting copra 
from the magnificent groves of cocoanuts that cover one 
and all of them. Here we stayed two days, taking 
soundings in the lagoon. I walked the length of Kalap 
and shot a number of green and grey doves. Theodoro 
took some views, amongst others, one of the coral-paved 
precinct of the Pako-Charaui or Sacred Shark, the Patron 
Spirit of Ant. In the background was a great native 
chestnut tree, with bundles of sugar cane and kava root, 
and some fishes' heads of no very recent date, hanging up 
in honour of the dread divinity. Then back to Nalap 
for a few days more study. 

By this time I had formed an opinion upon native 
character, with its strangely mingled strength and weak- 
ness, which subsequent events rather tended to confirm. 
I here give it to the reader for what it is worth. 

The character of the Ponapean, like that of the Caroline 
Islander in general, in whom so many different race- 
elements are merged, has some curious contradictions. 
He alternates fitful seasons of wonderful energy at work 
with long spells of incorrigible laziness. In supplying his 
simple needs he shows considerable ingenuity and resource. 
He is very superstitious, yet exceedingly practical in small 
matters. He has a good deal of the Malay stoicism and 
apathy, joined to great penetration and acuteness. His 
senses, like those of all half-civilised tribes, are very keen, 
and his powers of minute observation most remarkable. 
In many of his doings he exhibits a highly comical 
mixture of shrewdness and simplicity, of seriousness and 
buffoonery, of a light-hearted knavery tempered by a 
certain saving sense of rude justice — in short, a regular 
moral chamceleon. He is a capital mimic, something of a 
poet of the doggrel order, and very fond of dancing, feast- 
ing, and, of late years, of fiery alcoholic liquors. With 
strangers he is reserved and suspicious, and often shows 


a cross-grained reticence when questioned on the past 
history or traditions of his race, with which, I presume, he 
fancies strangers have no concern. As a rule he is fairly 
honest. Once lay his suspicions to rest and win his con- 
fidence, and he will prove himself a faithful friend and an 
excellent host, courteous and just in all his dealings, as I 
have very good cause to know. On the other hand, when 
dealing with his enemies he calls into play a talent for in- 
trigue, lying, and chicanery that would delight a Machiavel. 
In his private life, he is unselfish, frugal, and economical, a 
man of careful small habits. Like all folk of Melanesian 
admixture, he is liable to fits of dangerous sullenness 
when he considers himself slighted in any way. He is 
inclined to be revengeful, and will bide his time patiently 
until his opportunity comes. Yet he is not implacable, 
and counts reconciliation a noble and a princely thing. 
There is a form of etiquette to be observed on these occa- 
sions — a present {katoni) is made, an apology offered — 
a piece of sugar-cane accepted by the aggrieved party — 
honour is satisfied and the matter ends. The Ponapean 
is a stout warrior, a hardy and skilful navigator, fisherman, 
carpenter and boat-builder, but a very second-class planter 
and gardener. He is a kind father, but alas, according 
to western ideas, a stern and exacting husband. Many 
of the old men are skilled observers of the stars, the 
weather, the winds, and the prevailing currents. The 
Ponapean reveres old age, especially when coupled with 
wisdom or ability. The priest, counsellor, leech, diviner, 
and the culler of simples are held in high esteem. The 
generous and provident man is praised, the mean man 
and thief generally despised. Lack of filial piety or 
natural affection carries with it a lamentable stigma 
amongst them, and the curse of the ancestral spirits here 
and hereafter. It is much to be regretted that the Pona- 
pean character has changed notably for the worse of late 
years. Many of the natives have grown thievish, churlish 
and disobliging : this more particularly with the Metalanim 


folk on the east coast who are the most difficult of all the 

Their manner of life is simple and hardy. They go about 
in all weathers, rain or sunshine. Nowadays, greatly to the 
peril of their health, they have adopted European clothes. 
These they keep on their back whether wet or dry, which 
induces all manner of rheumatic and pulmonary ailments. 

Their food consists generally of fish or shell-fish and a 
vegetable diet of yams, bananas, taro, and breadfruit. 
The forests yield pigeons and some smaller birds very 
good for food. On the occasion of a feast, pigs and 
fowls are added to the bill of fare. The flesh of the dog 
(kiti) is highly relished, especially on the east coast. 
Crabs, crayfish and freshwater prawns are also in request. 
The turtle is set apart for the chiefs alone. Eels, whether 
of the salt or fresh water they will not eat, and hold them 
in the greatest horror. The old name for eel is // — the 
modern Kamichik or the Dreadful One. 

The special department of the women is the making of 
mats and shutters of reed-grass, the plaiting of baskets, 
and binding the leaves of the sago-palm into bundles for 
thatch. They make the leaf-girdles of the men, and com- 
pound the coconut-oil and fish-oil, and mix the cosmetic 
of turmeric, without which no Ponapean dandy's toilet is 
complete. They fetch water in calabashes, light the fires, 
build the stone ovens, prepare the food, and perform all the 
household duties. When required they cheerfully assist the 
men in their outdoor labours, and in time of war accompany 
their husbands and relations fearlessly into the battle. 

Marriage. — The formality of marriage between young 
people is singular. The girl is brought into the house 
and sits down, whilst her future mother-in-law rubs coco- 
nut oil vigorously into her back and shoulders. This is 
called Keieti or Anointing. A garland of flowers is placed 
on her head and the ceremony is concluded by a feast. 
The marriage bond may be severed at any time at the 
consent of either party. The Ponapeans for the most part 


content themselves with a single wife, polygamy being the 
privilege only of the wealthy and powerful chiefs. Adultery 
is usually settled out of court by a sound thrashing of the 
offending wife and possibly a separation of the parties. 
Exchange of wives (Peickipal) between friends and rela- 
tions, as in the Marquesas, is occasionally practised. The 
demi-monde class (Raran), like the N iki-rau-roro of the 
Gilbert Group, is tolerated in each district. Doubtless an 
heirloom of their Asiatic forefathers. The Sanskrit word 
Lalana has the very same meaning. 

Adoption of children is universal and forms a com- 
plicated [chain of relationships, an arrangement quite clear 
and simple to the native mind, but extremely puzzling to 
a European. Descent is traced through the mother — a 
custom tolerably common amongst the Oceanic races in 
general. Members of the same Tipu or clan cannot 
marry. A wife must be taken from one of the other 
divisions. The suitor serves for his wife in the house of 
his father-in-law elect, as Jacob did with Laban, and fre- 
quently has his pains for nothing. Men and women alike 
practise tatooing (Inting) on the arms and lower limbs. 
Unlike the Marquesan islanders they do not tatoo their 
faces. The women use a design taken from the interlacing 
of coconut fronds in their leaf baskets. Other designs 
are circles and eight-pointed stars and crosses ; some of 
very bizarre form. The young men, to show their con- 
tempt for pain, are in the habit of inflicting knife-gashes 
and burning deep scars on their breasts and arms. A 
terrible ethnic mutilation is practised upon the young men 
on reaching marriageable age. It is called Lekelek and 
consists of the excision of one of the testicles — generally 
that on the right side. The Ichipau of Metalanim in a 
fit of religious mania, brooding over the threatened lake 
of fire and bethinking himself of a certain passage in St 
John, went even further than this. 

Burial. — They bury their dead with great ceremony 
and solemn funeral orations. They are most unwilling to 
repeat the name of a dead ancestor — a very Melanesian 


trait. Consequently, I did not meet with in Ponape any- 
elaborate family genealogies, like the ancient and carefully 
preserved oral records of the Marquesans and Maoris, and 
the kindred Polynesian races. Something of the sort may 
however exist. 

The worship of the Ani or deified ancestors, coupled 
with a sort of zoolatry or totemism, is the backbone of the 
Ponapean faith. 

Every village, every valley, hill or stream has its genius 
loci, every family its household god, every clan its presiding 
spirit, every tribe its tutelary deity. Thunder, lightning, 
rain, storm, wind, fishing, planting, war, festival, harvest, 
famine, birth, disease, death, all these events and pheno- 
mena have their supernatural patron or Master-spirit. 
The gloomy fancy of the Ponapean, peoples the swamp, 
the reef, the mountain, and the hanging woods of the 
inland wilderness with hosts of spirits, some beneficent, 
the greater part malignant. All these Ani are honoured 
under the guise of some special bird, fish, or tree in which 
they are supposed to reside, and with which they are 
identified. These they style their Tan-waar, literally 
canoe, vehicle or medium, (like the Vaa or Vaka of the 
Polynesians, the Huaca or Vaka of the Peruvians). Thus 
the chestnut tree is the medium of the god of thunder, the 
blue starfish of the god of rain, the shark of the god of 
war, and the Lukot or native owl the emblem of the fairy 
Li-Ara-Katau, one of the local genii of the east coast. 

In their mythology they have a submarine Paradise 
{Packet), a place of perpetual feasting amongst lovely 
sights and sweet odours. They also have a subterranean 
Tartarus (JPueliko) of mire, cold and darkness, guarded by 
two grim female forms (Lichar and Licher), one holding 
a glittering sword, the other a blazing torch — a gloomy 
conception very much resembling the Yomi of Japan and 
the Yama of the early Vedas. 

And now we made up our minds to fly at higher game, 
and dive into the mysteries of the Metalanim Ruins on 
the east coast. 



EARLY in March 1896, we left Nalap in Nanapei's 
sailing-boat, our plans being to run up to the 
Spanish Colony in Ascension Bay to lay in a stock of 
European provisions and other necessaries, for neither 
stores nor groceries are found in Metalanim. After load- 
ing up to sail along the U. Coast to the north, and touch 
at two interesting islands, Mantapeiti and Mantapeitak 
(Mant-to-leeward and Mant-to-windward), in the neigh- 
bourhood of which in 1887, Mr J. C. Dewar's fine yacht 
the Nyanza was cast away on the reefs, a total wreck. 

After leaving the Mants we passed close by the islands 
of Tapak and Am, upon the former of which are some 
ancient platforms and tetragonal enclosures of stonework. 
Thence we sailed down the east coast, and early in the 
morning came to the King's island of Tomun, or Tamuan, 
which lies a little inside the mouth of Metalanim Harbour. 
Here we found David Lumpoi, an English-speaking chief 
to whose care Nanapei commended us, and sailed home 
again. That very day a great festival was being holden 
under Mount Takai-U, the odd-looking sugarloaf hill at 
the head of the bay. Here King Paul with his nobles 
and commons around him, sat in state prepared to receive 
us. Our welcome was coldly ceremonious, and I in- 
stantly read distrust and dislike in the faces of the notables 
present. The king was a corpulent old man with a large 
broad head, and a massive square chin, his somewhat heavy 
features being of a Melanesian rather than Polynesian 
type. Looking into his shifty eyes I could see surly 



pride mingled with suspicion and vague uneasiness. The 
gruff old churl's countenance irresistibly recalled to me the 
description of the wicked island king in one of R. L. 
Stevenson's South Sea Ballads : — 

" Fear was a worm in his heart, Fear darted his eyes 
And he probed men's faces for treason and pondered their speech 
for lies." 

The lodge was filled with smoke as a Highland cottage 
with peat-reek, whilst myriads of lively mosquitoes hovered 
up and down, in and out, seeking to flesh their suckers in 
the august assembly shrouded behind that fleecy veil. 
The interview was soon over. We obtained a sullen and 
grudging permission to explore the ruins, for which, how- 
ever, a fee of five dollars was demanded. For one of the 
Boston missionaries about 1880, foreseeing that on some 
later day Europeans might come here to explore, put into 
the head of the Metalanim chiefs to exact this toll, which 
the Spanish Governor had told us would certainly be 
enforced. I handed him over five Spanish dollars, which 
he eyed doubtfully, weighed, smelt and nipped between his 
teeth, to make sure I had not palmed off lead on him. 
With the remark, " Moni-n-Sepanich, moni chiuet," — 
" Spanish money, bad money ; " he locked it up carefully 
in a box. Scenting, perhaps, further opportunities for 
imposition, and assuming an air of cordiality that sat but 
ill on him, he pressed us to stay. But I was firmly 
resolved to go before his majesty's dull brain had time to 
devise some new pretext for extortion. Therefore, as 
soon as we decently could, we departed, itching sorely 
from mosquito bites, half-choked, half-blinded, eyes and 
nostrils tingling sharply from the acrid smoke that filled 
every corner of the house. A portion of cooked and pre- 
served breadfruit, the latter in odour recalling a Stilton 
cheese some three years old, followed us down to the boat 
according to a hospitable native custom. With a stiff 
breeze behind us we stood across the bay. Just off 


Tomun, David, who was steering, managed to run the 
craft upon a stack of coral rocks, staving in several planks 
and making an ugly hole in her bows, which we had some 
trouble in stopping. We put inshore awhile, and after 
repairing damages, loosed away south for Ponatik, catch- 
ing our first glimpse of the famous ruins by our way. 

We entered a wonder of tortuous alley-ways, a labyrinth 
of shallow canals, with shady vistas stretching away to the 
right and left, bordered on either side by dense walls of 
tropical leafage and the ever-present mangrove and salt- 
water brush, the vanguard of the hosts of the forest in 
their march seaward upon the rich belt of alluvial soil 
which the rivers of Ponape have washed down. Here and 
there grim masses of stonework peer out from behind the 
verdant screen, encrusted with lichen, and tufted with 
masses of fern waving from between the crevices in delicate 
feathery outlines. But we have little leisure to stay, the 
clouds are banking up ominously in the south. Mount 
Telemir is black with storm-wrack. " Onward " is the 
cry, and we push on in the fading light past foreland, 
sandspit and salt-marsh, down to Ponatik, where we land 
at the base of an enormous Tupap tree. 

We found David's house all ready for us. Next day 
we looked round the settlement, in which there was 
nothing specially remarkable, save a singular abundance 
of Parram or Nipa-palm, which with the numerous coconut 
and sago-palms gave a pretty setting to the scene. 

A couple of days later I visited the ruins accompanied 
by Keroun and Alek, two men of Ponatik, who were with 
difficulty induced to face the anger of the Ani or ancestral 
spirits and the tabu which enwraps the Lil-Charaui or 
Holy Places, and answers very much to the Luli so 
strictly observed by the natives of Timor. Passing the 
southern barricade of stones, we turned into the ghostly 
labyrinth of this city of the waters, and straightway the 
merriment of our guides was hushed, and conversation 
died down to whispers. 



We were bound for Uchentau, where a little native 
house had been set apart for our temporary camp. We 
arrived about nightfall, and as there was no particular use 
in exploring ruins by torchlight, we reserved our energies 
for the morning. 

Next day broke clear and bright, the canoe was 
manned, and away we started. As we shoot round a 
sharp bend on the right after five minutes' paddling, a 
strange and wonderful sight greets our eyes. We are 
close in to Nan-Tauach (the Place of Lofty Walls), the 
most remarkable of all the Metalanim ruins. The water- 
front is faced with a terrace built of massive basalt blocks 
about seven feet wide, standing out more than six feet 
above the shallow waterway. Above us we see a striking 
example of immensely solid Cyclopean stone-work frown- 
ing down upon the waterway, a mighty wall formed of 
basaltic prisms laid alternately lengthwise and crosswise 
after the fashion of a chock and log fence, or, as masons 
would style it, Headers and Stretchers. Our guides smile 
indulgently, as they assist me and my Manilla photo- 
grapher up the sides of the great wharf, for it is now 
low tide in the streets of this strange water-town. On 
a brimming high-tide, landing is an easier matter. We 
were soon at work tearing down creepers and lianas, and 
letting in the light of the sun upon the mighty black 

The left side of the great gateway yawning overhead 
is about twenty-five feet in height and the right some thirty 
feet, overshadowed and all but hidden from view by the 
dense leafage of a huge Ikoik tree, which we had not the 
heart to demolish for its extreme beauty — a wonder of 
deep emerald-green heart-shaped leaves, thickly studded 
with tassels of scarlet trumpet-shaped flowers, bright as 
the bloom of coral or flame tree. 

Here in olden times the outer wall must have been 
uniformly of considerably greater height, but has now in 
several places fallen into lamentable ruin, whether from 


earthquake, typhoon, vandal hands, or the wear and tear 
of long, long ages. Somewhat similar in character would 
be the semi-Indian ruins of Java, and the Cyclopean 
structures of Ake, and Chichen-Itza in Yucatan. A 
series of huge rude steps brings us into a spacious court- 
yard, strewn with fragments of fallen pillars, encircling 
a second terraced enclosure with a projecting frieze or 
cornice of somewhat Japanese type. The measurement 
of the outer enclosure, as we afterwards roughly ascer- 
tained, was some 1 8 5 feet by 1 1 5 feet, the average thick- 
ness of the outer wall 15 feet, height varying from 20 to 
nearly 40 feet. The space within can only be entered 
by the great gateway in the middle of the western face, 
and by a small ruinous portal in the north-west corner. 
The inner terraced enclosure forms a second conforming 
parallelogram of some 8 5 feet by 7 5 feet ; average thick- 
ness of wall, 8 feet ; height of walls, 15 to 18 feet. 
In the centre of a rudely-paved court lies the great central 
vault or treasure chamber, identified with the name of 
an ancient monarch known as Chau-te-reul or Chau- 
te-Leur, probably a dynastic title like that of Pharaoh 
or Ptolemy in ancient Egypt. (N.B. — Chan was the 
ancient Ponape word denoting, (a) the sun (b) a king. 
The latter signification tallies with the Rotuma Sau, 
a king, and the Polynesian Hau and Au, a king, chief.) 
The plan of the enclosure facing this page shows three 
other of these vaults, the double line of terraces built 
up of basalt and limestone blocks, and the several 
courtyards separated off by low intersecting lines of 
wall. In this connection Kubary remarks, and I think 
very truly, " A certain irregularity in the whole build- 
ing, as in the differing height and breadth of indi- 
vidual terraces, betokens a variety of builders, following 
one another, and knowing how to give expression to their 
respective ideas." 

Over the camp fire that night the Spanish doctor's his- 
toriette again is eagerly studied. Let us hear what the good 

Scale I inch to 40 feet, 

Plan of the double parallelogram enclosed by the walls of NanTauach, 
in the district of Nan Matal, tribe of Metalanim, East coast of Ponape. 


doctor, Pereiro Cabeza, who in 1890 nearly lost his life in 
battle near these same ruins, has to say. " Between the dis- 
covery of Ponape in 1595 and modern times the island 
must have been re-visited by the Spanish. In 1886 a 
derrotero Inglese or map-making Englishman (name not 
specified) noticed them as follows : " Around the harbour 
of Metalanim there are some interesting ruins whose origin 
is involved in the greatest obscurity. The oldest inhabit- 
ant can tell nothing about them, and has no tradition as 
to their history. Doubtless there existed here a fortified 
town inhabited by a folk of superior civilisation. Some 
of the stones are about ten feet in length and worked into 
six faces, no doubt brought from some civilised country, 
for they have no stones like them in the island. The 
whole settlement appears to be a series of fortified houses, 
and various artificial caves have been discovered inside the 

Without anticipating the narrative, or pausing here to 
seriously criticise Dr Cabeza's view (which Kubary clearly 
shows to be untenable) that these structures were the 
work of pirates or early Spanish voyagers, it may be worth 
while here to remark : — 

1 . The old inhabitants do retain certain traditions about 
the origin of these ruins, but will not tell everybody, least 
of all a mere passing traveller. They would regard it as 
casting "pearls before swine." The Englishman of 1886 
evidently does not know what native reticence means. 
The Ponapean tradition told me by the Au of Marau is 
sufficiently explicit. Two brothers, Ani-Aramach, God- 
men or Heroes, named Olo-chipa and Olo-chopa, coming 
from the direction of Chokach, built the breakwater of 
Nan-Moluchai and the island city it shuts in. By their 
magic spells one by one the great masses of stone flew 
through the air like birds, settling down into their appointed 
place. These two names of curious assonance are cognate 
with those of the Tahitian Demigods Oro-tetefa and Uru- 
tetefa, the traditional founders of that remarkable brother- 


hood the Areoi, which before the introduction of Christianity 
wielded so grim and tremendous an influence throughout 
the whole of the Society group. 

2. The doctor speaks of "stones worked into six faces." 
The stones, as a matter of fact, are polygonal or multi- 
angular, some five, some eight-sided. Many are certainly 
six-sided, but by no means uniformly so. Here comes 
in the interesting question of the early use in Micronesia 
of iron or copper tools, which is fully discussed in the 
chapter upon Ponapean tools and implements. It is 
enough here to say that I saw no marks of cutting or 
graving tools on the stonework, neither did Kubary. I do 
not say they may not exist, but we certainly saw none. 
The native Ponapean axe of Tridacna shell, excellent as 
is the edge it takes, would be far too brittle to chisel 
such hard and massive blocks into shape. A geologist 
would immediately declare them to be unhewn slabs of 
basalt of natural prismatic formation. 

N.B. — Dr Wichmann of Leipzig says they are akin 
to the basalt of the Siebengebirge. 

3. " No stones like them in the island." If the 
Englishman of 1886, and the Spaniard who quotes him, 
had had time or opportunity to inquire further, they 
would have found that on Chokach Island, below the 
Paip-Alap or Great Cliff on the north-west coast, and 
away up one of the mountain glens of U, on the north 
coast, are the two places whence all this enormous quan- 
tity of basalt was brought down. The landing stage at 
Auak in U, and some remarkable sacred enclosures on 
Tapak Island near the Mants, are built of the same stone. 
Moreover, as we sitting by our camp-fire already know 
very well, similar remains occur on Tauak Islet off the 
Paliker coast. Subsequently we fell in with others at 
Nantamarui, Lang Takai, Ponial and Pona Ul, on the 
Kiti and Metalanim borders, and at Chap-en-Takai, an 
ancient fort and holy place crowning one of the hills above 
Marau on the Kiti coast. In the same district similar 


ruins are reported in the hill-settlement of Chalapuk near 
the head-waters of the Ronkiti River. 

Kubary with his usual keen and minute observation 
remarks : " The oblique inward slope of the upper basalt 
layers seems to suggest that the stones were brought here 
b)' means of an inclined plane." Such a system, in the 
absence of powerful cranes and other machinery, certainly 
seems to me very feasible. In my mind's eye I viewed 
an even slope of felled tree trunks copiously sluiced with 
coconut oil, to avoid friction, up which the great blocks 
would be hauled, one relay of workmen above pulling 
upon long and thick cables of coir fibre or cinnet and 
supplementary ropes of green hibiscus bark, another relay 
below with solid staves and handspikes by turns pushing 
the huge mass upwards and resting with their poles set 
against and below it to prevent it slipping back. 

Kubary adds that the blocks of basalt were rafted down 
from the Not district on the north coast. This tallies 
exactly with what Nanchau of Mutok and the Au of 
Marau told me, and with the singular phenomenon I 
observed in the shallower portions of the lagoon : the 
presence of numberless broken fragments and sometimes 
pillars of basalt lying upon the coral bottom. To my 
inquiry of my boatman what brought them there the 
answer was always the same — Takai-tol poputi nan chet- 
uech, ari, — " When a bit of black stone falls into salt 
water it grows, and t/iat's all about it." 

The tale of how we fared amongst the fortified houses 
and artificial caves shall supplement the account of the 
mysterious map-making Englishman of the Spanish 

As far as we could gather, then and subsequently, in 
olden time Ponape (in the West Carolines Fanu-Pei, the 
Land of the Pel or Holy Places), then much more popu- 
lous than now, was united under the rule of the Chau-te- 
Leur line of kings like the Tui-Tongas of Tonga-tabu. 
The last of the dynasty met his death facing a barbaric 


horde from the Pali-Air, the barren lands of the south, 
probably some portion of New Guinea or the Melanesian 
Islands, led by a fierce and terrible warrior, Icho-Kalakal, 
Kubary's Idzi-Kolkol. Swarms of savage invaders poured 
in upon the peaceful settlers, and almost completely de- 
stroyed the ancient civilisation after an obstinate resist- 
ance, in which numbers were slain on both sides ; the 
king himself, in his flight, being drowned in the Chapalap 
River at the head of Metalanim Harbour. The pitying 
Ani or gods changed him into a blue river fish, the Kital y 
which the Metalanim folk to this very day refuse to eat. 
And the conqueror Icho-Kalakal ruled the land, and in 
process of time died and was buried on Pei-Kap (one 
story says Nan-Pulok, and another Peitok). He became 
the War-God of Metalanim, and remains a dreaded spectre 
to this very day. 

It is an interesting fact that two of the principal septs 
or clans on Ponape, the Tip-en-Uai or Foreign Folk and 
the Tip-en-Panamai or People from Panamai, trace their 
descent from Icho-Kalakal — Panamai being the name of 
the land from which the invasion came. Possibly the 
island of Panapa (Ocean Island), or one of the Gilbert or 
Line Islands may be designated, where we find a mingled 
Polynesian and Melanesian population. Other interesting 
facts in this connection are : — 

i. The presence of an elaborate chiefs language in 

Ponapean, some words of which are pure Polynesian and 

others later Malay. 1 \Cf. — Lima is the hand of a chief, 

Pa that of a commoner. Kumikum a chief's beard, Alich 

a subject's beard. Chilani a chief's eye, Macha the eye of a 

subject. Achang tooth of chief, Ngi tooth of common man.] 

In Malay Kumi is a moustache, and in Javanese Alls is 

the eyebrow. 

1 To my mind this is proof positive of the coming in of a conquering race 
forming a ruling aristocracy, like William the Conqueror's Normans amongst 
the Saxons, or Strongbow and his brother barons amongst the Irish of a later 
day. And this conclusion, indeed, is amply borne out by the Ponapean 
tradition of Icho-Kalakal and his invasion from the lands of the south. 

E j; 


2. A wonderful similarity in root-words between Pona- 
pean and the language of the Gilbert group and the 
dialect of Efate in the New Hebrides and that of Mota in 
the Banks group. 

3. The presence of Ponapean place-names in the 
Melanesian area. 

4. The occurrence of stone buildings like those of Nan- 
Matal, but on a smaller scale, sketched and described by 
the Rev. R. H. Codrington at Gaua upon Santa Maria, 
one of the Banks group. 

The result of our first visit was to give us some idea of 
the lie of the land. Clearly, in my opinion, the place was a 
town built out of the water by a sea-faring race, not as 
Hale has pronounced it, a land city which has sunk. In 
this I find Kubary and Dr Gulick agree with me. Darwin 
and Dana, however, hold Ponape as an instance of the 
subsidence of an island within the sunk plane. We 
took a few photographs, and managed to scratch up a few 
beads in the central vault, which, of course, only whetted 
our appetite for more. So we went back to Ponatik to 
engage more labour, and the morning after our return an 
old American settler in the neighbourhood, J. Kehoe, called 
on me and volunteered to give his help in exploring the 
ruins, where he had himself often been before. So we 
arranged a second expedition, and left on March 14th. 
Our party consisted of J. Kehoe, Theodoro, Nanit, a native 
of Kiti, Keroun and myself. Arriving at Nan-Tauach by 
way of Uchentau about noon, we set about our excavations 
in the main vault (A). We all took turns with the digging 
and worked till sunset, turning out heaps more bracelets 
and shell beads, some of the latter thick and some of very 
delicate make. We returned muddy, grimy and weary, 
with marvellous appetites for beef and biscuit, and lay 
down longing for the morrow. Next day we were hard at 
work again with increasing good fortune, for several mag- 
nificent shell-axes or Patkul rewarded our efforts. Then 
we went in for a new sort of toil, hewing and hacking 


away, making tremendous gaps in the jungle which 
envelopes the precinct within and without, climbing around 
on the walls heedless of tottering slabs, tearing away long 
festoons of creeper and great clumps of weed and fern, 
close-rooted in the crevices of the mighty structure. The 
patient man with the camera clicks off view after view of 
the massive walls sullenly frowning down upon the assail- 
ants, who have rent their way through the mazy wilder- 
ness and lifted the veil of clinging greenery and let in the 
light of day upon these halls of Eblis. A jovial party 
surrounds the blazing hearth that night, all but Keroun, 
who sits apart fitfully muttering to himself, a prey to 
supernatural terror, and a horror of unseen horrors. 

March 16. — Next morning we visited Pan-Katara and 
cleared the angle, and measured the height of the wall, 
which turned out to be 27 feet. With difficulty we forced 
our way through the jungle into the paved enclosure in 
the heart of the island, where in olden times the king used 
to sit with his priests and nobles round him, drinking the 
choko or kava in solemn state. Keroun flatly declined to 
accompany us, and remained with the canoe on the canal- 
side in a state of great nervousness. The afternoon was 
devoted to a second onslaught on the bush and creepers. 
The inner courtyard and surrounding terraces of Nan- 
Tauach were cleared of undergrowth, together with 
portions of the walls of the inner enclosure and the inner 
and outer angles at the corner of the great wall facing 
south. These operations put the finishing touch to 
Keroun's dismay, who repeatedly declared the precinct to 
be haunted. " The eyes of the spirits are watching every- 
thing you do," said the obstinate old donkey. " They 
will not hurt you because you are a white man, but they 
will punish us. I cannot sleep at night; I am very much 
afraid, and I should like to go home." 

March 17th was spent in digging in chambers A and 
B with moderate results. I returned with my party to 
Ponatik in the afternoon, leaving the exploration of the 


pits, the taking of more elaborate measurements, and 
photographing of the north side for next excursion. 
We were busy sorting and washing curios till late 
that night, and during the whole of next day. The 
people of the settlement still continued sullen and 
stupid, and left us strictly alone. Keroun thought to 
make a brilliant move by suddenly demanding double 
pay, but looked very blank when calmly informed that 
in future his salary was to be reduced in proportion 
to his services. 

Next morning (March 19th) Alek came in with some 
ornamental dance-paddles, and a collection of square 
tablets of native woods which he had carved into beautiful 
patterns, and stained in red, black, white and yellow, 
using native dyes. 

That afternoon I went over through the woods with 
Keroun to Nantiati, and attended a Kava festival at the 
waterside. I met Joe Kehoe there, and went home with 
him to Nantamarui in the evening in order to discuss our 
plan of exploration quietly together, not caring to take the 
selfish, sullen Lot or Ponatik natives into my confidence. 

When I returned to Ponatik next morning I found that 
Chau-Tapa, a native preacher from Aru, whose church 
name was Obadiah, had, on Nanapei's recommendation, 
come to look after our spiritual welfare, and at the same 
time earn a few honest dollars by teaching me some key- 
words in the dialect of the Mortlock group, where his 
missionary labours had long engaged him. A few years 
previously his white superiors had transferred him to 
Aru, viewing with alarm his devotion to the bottle, and 
several sad lapses from grace, in which certain fair young 
female converts were equally blameworthy. He amused 
us mightily with his comical ways and glib Biblical quota- 
tions, and on the least provocation would put up an 
extempore prayer with all the unction of a Salvation 
Army captain. I don't know how far he deceived him- 
self, but I know he never deceived me, for I had seen 


plenty of that kind of native before in Tonga and 
Samoa, especially Tonga. Obadiah really was a curious 
study. He was the oddest mixture of shrewdness, 
fanaticism, and fatuous self-complacency that I should say 
the Boston Mission ever turned out. He was avaricious 
yet benevolent, covetous as a Jew, yet, strange to say, 
liberal. What his left hand grabbed, his right would 
disperse again in largesse. Nobody ever visited his 
place at Am and left hungry. For the rest, he was a 
diplomatist of the species trimmer. His air was grand 
and consequential, and last, but not least, he dearly loved 
strong liquors. All that day he took great pains to teach 
me the rudiments of Mortlock, by no means refusing a 
glass or two of red wine in between whiles. He descanted 
earnestly as a monk upon fasting and vigils. Yet he 
supped heartily at sundown upon beef, pork, yam, ship- 
biscuit and baked dog, and I am sure his potations of 
Vino Tinto must have given a rosy tinge to his dreams 
that night. 

Next morning (March 21st) our guide Joe came over, 
and we made final arrangements for a third expedition to 
start on the next day but one. 



AFTER paying off Obadiah, who was further gladdened 
at the gift of an old black coat and trousers, — 
" Him broke behind " critically murmured the recipient ; — 
on the morning of the 23 rd we started from Lot, forming 
quite a respectable party. Keroun, it is true, yielding to 
spectral terrors had begged earnestly to be left out this 
time. Two men from Lot who volunteered for five dollars 
a day have been politely sent about their business. Alek, 
too, is away on the service of the king, who, instead of 
making roads and plantations, has a mania for building 
churches and private mansions all over the Metalanim 
district. Our party consisted of Joe and his two stalwart 
sons, Lewis and Warren, a fine young fellow from the Kiti 
border called Nanit, and a smart little boy called Chetan. 
The Manilla man with his camera came too, but he was 
never quite at his ease. That very afternoon we set to 
digging by turns in the central vault. This delving carries 
a peculiar charm with it. One never knows what may turn 
up next. The prospect of a reward for every undamaged 
bracelet or shell-axe proves a famous incitement, even the 
apathetic Manilla man turning to and scratching away at 
the mould like an old hen at a rubbish heapi^ We con- 
tinued next morning, and held on with unabated vigour 
until noon. Then we counted up our treasures and thus 
reads the tally : — 

A quart of circular rose- pink beads, worn down by rubbing 
from the Spondylus strombus and Conus shells varying 
generally in diameter from the size of a shilling to a three- 
penny bit, some being very minute and delicate in design. 



They answer exactly to the Wampum or shell-bead- 
money of the North American Indians, who use them for 
ornamenting pouches, mocassins and girdles. 

Some were circular (Put), others rectangular {Pake), 
used strung in regular rows for adorning the primitive 
girdles woven from banana-fibre. Some were very much 
abraded and others decidedly bleached in hue as though 
they had been buried a very long time. Beads exactly 
similar in design have recently been discovered in the 
ruins of Mitla in Central America. The shell-discs 
found in Nan-Tauach are more elegantly ground and 
finished than those in the other graves, a circumstance 
which induces Kubary to believe Nan-Tauach to be a 
later structure. This, I may add, is the opinion also of 
some of the older Ponapeans, my informants. 

Eighty pearl-shell shanks of fish-hooks in a more or 
less perfect condition, exactly resembling those used all 
over Polynesia before the coming of the white man. The 
hook itself was generally of bone, but we found some 
fragments of pearl-shell which were clearly relics of the barb. 

Five ancient Patkul or shell-axes of sizes varying from 
2 1 feet to 6 inches. 

Five unbroken carved shell-bracelets of elegant design 
{Luou-en-Matup), so called from the district of Matup to 
the north of Metalanim harbour, the seat of this industry in 
olden time — just as Icklingham in East Anglia was noted 
for the manufacture of ancient British flint implements. 

A dozen antique needles of shell used for sewing 
together the leaves of the Kipar or Pandanus to make the 
/ or mat-sails for their canoes. Others who have seen 
them declare them to be shell-ornaments strung in rows 
and worn round the neck, curving outwards like a neck- 
lace of whale's teeth. 

Thirty or forty large circular shells, bored through the 
centres and worn as a pendant ornament on the breast. 

We also turned up a vast number of fragments of bone, 
portions of skulls and bits of shell-bracelets, a couple of 


small shell gouges, a piece of iron resembling a spear- 
head, and a smoke-coloured fragment of vitreous appear- 
ance, that Kubary and others since have pronounced to be 
obsidian or volcanic glass, the ltztli of the ancient 

The underground chamber A from which we took 
these relics lies in the centre of the inner precinct facing 
the great gateway. It is about 8 feet in depth, roofed in 
by six enormous blocks or slabs of basalt. The floor con- 
sists of loose coral and soft vegetable mould thickly 
matted with the roots of a breadfruit tree which has 
sprung up just behind the structure, and which, by a 
vigorous root-growth, is gradually displacing the blocks 
from their old position. The side nearest the entrance is 
threatening to sink into ruins at no very far-off date. In 
fact no little caution was needed on this side during our 
digging operations to avoid a disastrous collapse of 
masonry. J. S. Kubary, when photographing the ruins 
about twelve years ago, used this very vault as a dark- 
room for developing his negatives, all unconscious of the 
treasures under his feet. My photograph of this tomb, 
taken on Expedition No. 2, represents our shifty workman 
Keroun, and gives a very fair idea of the size of the basalt 
blocks forming the roof. A tangle of grasses and creeper 
carpets the precinct ; amongst them a poison-weed like 
a Wistaria, the bruised roots of which, tied in bundles, 
native fishermen dabble in the water of the surf-pools at 
low tide, to which they impart a milky tinge and stupify 
the fish. The Ponapeans call it Up, the Malays Tuba. 
All around are springing up saplings of Oramai, a 
broad leafed shrub, a species of Ramie (Kleinhovia), 
the bark of which is used for making nets and fish- 
lines. In the middle of the court we saw several fine 
Ixora trees in flower, possibly the same as those observed 
by Mr Le Hunt in 1885, who happily describes them as a 
scarlet waterfall of blossom. The afternoon of March 
25 th was spent in clearing the walls of the inner precinct. 


and taking various photographs. Just beyond the cross- 
wall at the back of vault B we saw a long basalt slab 
curved into a shallow crescent and balanced on two pro- 
jecting shafts of masonry on the inner side of the south- 
west wall. When tapped it gave a clear ringing sound, 
and was probably used for an alarum or for a sort of bell 
in sacred ceremonies. We found just such another sub- 
sequently in Nanapei's settlement of Ronkiti. I brought 
it home and it is now in the British Museum. 

On March 25 th we visited the island of Nakap, and 
photographed the reef and ruins of an old sea-wall, with 
Na in the distance, and King Paul's canoe in the Nach or 
Lodge. After Nakap we landed on the breakwater of 
Nan-Moluchai at considerable risk, for the approach is 
dangerous even in calm weather from the heavy swell. 
Out in the lagoon off the harbour-mouth the magnitude 
of the task of the early builders impressed us deeply. 
For three miles down to the south one can descry here 
and there the massive sea-walls showing out through the 
mangrove clumps which girdle the islets of Karrian, Likop, 
Lemankau, Mant, Kapinet, Panui and Pon-Kaim, the 
last of the seaward series, which make up the outer line 
serving as a breakwater against the deep sea roaring at 
the doors, yet interrupted at intervals, and forming a 
re-entering angle between Karrian and Nan-Moluchai. 

On Nan-Moluchai are the relics of another walled 
sanctuary, and in this lonely and surf-beaten spot an old 
castaway Frenchman spent his failing years. A pile of 
enormous stones block the entrance to the re-entering 
angle, at the head of which is Pein-Aring Island. They 
lie half submerged here in deep water. The photograph 
shows our American guide's eldest son sitting thereon, 
with a breaker just curling over ready to fall. 

There are over fifty walled islets in the parallax which, 
together with the intersecting canals, occupies some eleven 
square miles. 

It may be well here to take some of the island names 


and explain them, giving at the same time any interesting 
points attaching to them, for some of them throw light on 
the early history of the place. The meaning of a few of 
these antiquated names is apparently lost altogether, but 
by the aid of an old man of the district much of the 
difficulty was overcome. 

The phonesis of the names and their spelling has been 
revised, and the correct native renderings given instead of 
the bewildering and meaningless jargon into which even 
Kubary has fallen in the otherwise valuable sketch-plan 
which, with his permission, I have adopted as the ground- 
work of the present chart. With the aid of Joe Kehoe 
and his sons, and the minute and careful scrutiny of some 
old tribesmen familiar with the locality, we managed to 
advance Kubary's industrious work another stage forward 
towards completeness. 

The name Nan-Tauach or Nan-Tauas means the Place 
of Loftiness or High Walls. (Tauach — cf the Philippine 
Taas, high, and Hindustani Taj or Tej.) [Kubary calls 
it Nan-Tauacz, and Mr C. F. Wood, in the account of 
his visit, Nan- Towass.~\ 

Chap-on-Nach means the Land of the Council-Lodge or 
Club- House, 

The name Nan-Moluchai is variously given as Nan- 
molu-chai, the place to cease from paddling — an ironical 
designation for one of the most dangerous landing-places 
on the coast, or Nan-mo luch-ai, the place of the cinder 
heaps, i.e. those left from the cooking fires of the host of 
workmen who assisted the demi-gods Olosipa and Olosopa 
in the construction of the mighty breakwater and the 
walled islets which occupy the space within. 

Na means a ridge of rock. {Cf Nana, a cordillera or 
mountain chain.) 

Na-Kap means New Na, an islet of later origin. 

Pal-akap means New Sanctuary or New Chamber. With 
the Ponapean Pal, a temple or chamber, compare Sanskrit 
Pal, a tent, habitation ; Pelew Blai, a house ; Yap Pal, a 


house set apart for the women ; and Malayan Balai, a hall ; 
Polynesian Hale, Fale, Fare, a house, dwelling. 

Pei-kap = New Pavement or New Enclosure. On the 
east side of Pei-kap is the turtle-stone of Icho-Kalakal 
{cf p. 96), and a long narrowish slab called the Uanit-en- 
Tare, or shield of Tare. 

Lemenkau or Lamenkau = Deep blue water off the edge. 
There is another Lamenkau in the Banks group in 

Panui, at the southern angle, may be a Polynesian word, 
and = big wall. More probably, however, it means " under 
the Wi or Barringtonia trees. 

Peitak = Up to ivindward. The rumoured burial-place 
of the great warrior Icho-Kalakal, i.e. Prince Wonder- 
ful, progenitor of the famous Tip-en Panamai clan, who 
led the invasion from the south which blotted out the 
civilisation of the Chau-te-Leur dynasty. 

Chau-Icho = King and Prince ; also name of a small 
district on the south coast near Marau. 

Pan-ilel = the place where you have to steer — a most 
appropriate designation of the maze of shallows, choked 
up with water-weed and salt-water brush. Near Pan-ilel 
is a huge block lying under the masonry at the canal-side 
with two other masses supporting it, called Uanit-en- 
Chau-te-Leur, the shield of Chau-te-Leur. 

In the waterway close by is the Tikitik of stone known as 
the Head of Laponga, a famous wizard of old mentioned 
in Ponapean folklore in a quaint tale entitled " The 
Naming of the Birds," " Ka-atanakipa-n-Men-pir-akan." 

The name Laponga recalls the Lampongs, a tribe of 
Sumatra, distinguished among its less civilised neighbours 
by the possession of Untang-untang, or hieroglyphic records 
of ancient law {Cf Ponapean Inting to write). This fact 
may have spread the use of the word Lampong as a generic 
term for wizard in these parts of the Malayan area. 

The islet of Pulak gets its designation from some fine 
specimens of the timber tree of that name which over- 




shadow it, and similarly a neighbouring islet is named 
Pan-Tipop, i.e. Under the Tipop or Tupap, from a huge 
umbrella tree (the Pacific almond) which grows at its 
north angle. 

Pan-Katara, the haunted island, which our guide persists 
in styling Pan-Gothra (Kubary calls it Nan-Gutra), "the 
place of proclamation," or, " sending forth of messengers." 
A native gloss is Pach-en-Kaon or the House of Govern- 
ment, denoting a metropolis or capital. This precinct, 
from all accounts, was anciently the seat of government 
and solemn feasts of king, priests and nobles. The 
solitary inhabitant is the white goat in the picture, who, 
tired of the society of ghosts and shadows, came down 
bleating his welcome, anxious to meet with honest flesh 
and blood once more. We see him browsing upon the 
green leaves and shoots of the masses of shrub and 
creeper we tossed into the canal below. There is 
another Pankatara amongst the ruins of Chap-en-Takai 
across the Kiti border, and yet another on Ngatik or 
Raven's Island, some thirty miles away on the west 
coast of Ponape. 

Kubary made an elaborate plan of Pankatara and of 
the neighbouring island of Itet in connection with the 
ancient ceremonies observed there. His description of 
these is very graphic and I quote it here. 

The Dziamarous {Chaumard) i.e. High Priests of the 
district of Metalanim had their chief temples in Nan- 
matal, and on the Island of Nangutra, where once 
a year, in the end of May or beginning of June, 
they met together and celebrated the feast of the 
" Arbungelap." All the natives of the district repair 
for this purpose to Kuffiner, a place in the Bay of 
Metalanim. 1 All canoes made ready during the past 
year are launched on this day to be consecrated, only 
the vessel destined for the Divinity remains suspended in 

1 The wives of the chiefs were not present, as the men of the lower classes 
are forbidden on pain of death to see them. 


the king's house. After having begun the celebration 
at Kuffiner with religious dances and kava drinking, the 
whole crowd adjourns to Nangutra with singing and boat- 
racing, where the king plants his spear by a long stone 
visible to this day by the entrance. The lower classes 
range themselves in the space marked off to the left, the 
chiefs however and the Dziamarous place themselves round 
the Kava stone before the god's house in the middle space. 
On the right side food is heaped as an offering for the god 
or spirit. Then kava is pounded and the first cup, as is 
customary to this day, offered to the god, and the two 
next to his two priests. No one may enter the temple 
except the king's two magicians, Nangleim (Nallaim) and 
Manabus (Manapuch). After the kava offering, they 
adjourn to the Island Itet, where the gigantic deified 
Conger-Eel x lives within a wall five feet high and four 
feet thick. On a huge stone a turtle 2 is killed, and its 
entrails laid on a paved space in the Eel's house. 

I give here an independent native version of Kubary's 
tale of the Itet monster. 

In the reign of King Chau-te-Leur, a huge lizard (Kieil 
alap amen) came swimming into the great harbour and 
took up its quarters on the island of Pan-Katara, other- 
wise called Pangothra. Taking him for an Ani or tute- 
lary genius, they brought him baskets of fruit and savoury 
messes of cooked yams and bananas to conciliate the 
favour of their spectral-looking visitor (man likamichik 
aman). As might well be expected, vegetable diet did 
not content him, and there was soon a disappearance of 
some of the basket-bearers, which the chiefs, after losing 
some of their most industrious slaves, considered a mean 
act of ingratitude. So the big lizard was proclaimed a 
public enemy and a cannibal fiend, and the warriors of 

1 I did not myself hear of this Conger-eel, but I did hear of a pet alligator 
which was kept in Nan-Matal and fed as a sacred animal. 

2 This probably represents a human sacrifice. In the same way in New 
Zealand, Ika or Ngohi, a fish, is used to denote a human victim. 


the tribe went forth to battle with the monster. But he 
came forward very angry, seized some of the boldest in his 
iron jaws, and crunched them up in pitiable fashion. They 
belaboured him industriously on every side, but their 
spears and shell axes failed to make impression upon 
his thick skin, whilst pebbles and sling-stones glanced 
off him harmless as raindrops. So at last since the 
lizard would not run away, of course the Metalanim 
braves had to. Finally subtlety triumphed where 
numbers and valour availed nothing. It was suggested 
to slay a fat hog, cut him open, and after stuffing him 
full with pounded Up root, to leave him roasting over 
a great fire blazing in the basement of the Nach or 
Council Lodge. All the sides of the Nach were to be 
walled up with logs and driftwood, save one opening 
big enough for the monster to crawl through — attracted 
to his last meal by the far-reaching scent of the crackling 
pork. When their foe was fairly stupefied with the 
working of the narcotic drug, the opening was to be 
quickly filled up and the building set in a blaze. Such 
was the fate of this solitary alligator, no doubt washed 
out to sea on driftwood from one of the great rivers 
of New Guinea, or drifted away through the Straits of 
Gilolo by the ocean currents. He crawled right into 
the trap set for him, devoured the cooked pig, felt very 
drowsy and went off into deep sleep, to wake up finding 
himself lapped shrivelling in a merciless furnace of flame, 
with his triumphant enemies shouting and dancing round 
his funeral pyre. 

Pon-Kaim is the southernmost and last of the parallax, 
as its name " On the Angle " or Corner, sufficiently indicates. 
There another great line of partially submerged blocks, 
remnants of an ancient dyke, with a narrow passage in 
the centre, closes in this strange island-city. 1 In the 
absence of written annals, a careful examination of 

1 Nan-Matal contains in all some fifty of these curious artificial islets and 
encloses an area of some 1 1 square miles. 


local names sometimes gives us useful little bits of 
history. As an instance of how geographical names 
embody an historical fact, take such names of cities as 
New York, New Orleans, Newcastle, and Carthage 
(Kiriath or Karth-Hadeschah, i.e. New Sanctuary). Thus 
even in lonely little Ponape History repeats herself. 

That evening Joe Kehoe is in high spirits over his 
good luck. " Happy as a clam at high water," as he 
poetically phrases it. He gives many old-time reminis- 
cences — one tale really characteristic of the times, the 
people and the place. The reader will pardon the 
digression, for his account is an independent version 
(i) of a crude minor paragraph on current events in 
a Boston missionary journal ; (2) of Mr J. C. Dewar's 
account of the wreck of his yacht the Nyanza off the 
Mant Islands in 1889 ; and (3) of the historiette of Don 
Cabeza Pereiro, medico of the first column in the Spanish 
attack on the rebel stronghold of Oa in the same year. 
We shall see how these four independent accounts tally. 

Joe Kehoe's story concerned a Portuguese negro half- 
caste named Christian*) (no connection of the author's), a 
deserter from the whaler Helen Mar, who settled in Ponape 
some twelve years ago in the fearless old beach-combing 
fashion, and roved about at his own sweet will like Steven- 
son's Tahitian hero Rakero, who " as an ' aito ' wandered 
the land, delighting maids with his tongue, smiting men 
with his hand." This negro Don Juan certainly did bear 
the marks of some twenty knife-wounds, gained in these 
adventures. The Spanish chronicler mentions him acting 
as a guide to their first column in the morning march from 
Oa, through the ravines of Machikau, towards the eastern 
front of the stockade of Ketam (where that same evening 
they met with a disastrous repulse). The account runs : — 
" Cristiano, a negro of Cabo Verde, a Portuguese subject, 
led the way, a man of herculean strength and proved 
valour, whom the natives held in dread. His three Caro- 
line wives accompanied him, one of whom, Li-Kanot, in 



— OF — 

ll The Metalanim Venice. 

■■iSi? =- Man g rove Clumps. 


the firing which presently began from a body of natives 
in ambush, was disabled by a bullet in the knee " (for 
which she still enjoys a small monthly pension). 

Compare with this, the terse and uncomplimentary 
notice given of him, sent from Ponape by one of Mr 
Doane's co-religionists, and published in a Boston paper. 
" We have had great trouble here lately from a black 
Portuguese, banished some time ago from Manilla for 
some enormous crimes. He has sought the favour of 
the Spaniards, asserting that in time of need he supplied 
the late governor (Don Isidoro Posadillo) with food. 
This atoned in their eyes for many huge sins, and he is 
allowed to roam up and down the island doing Satan's 
work most completely. But we fear him not." 

Mr Dewar's account tells feelingly of the stranding of 

his vessel on the reefs of the North Coast and the rascality 

of a certain Portuguese settler of U, who, when left in charge 

assisted various natives to plunder the wreck. Now the 

aforesaid negro Christian, who seems on the whole to have 

been a good-natured, honest old soul, gave evidence which 

led to the conviction of some of the delinquents, and their 

subsequent detention in irons on the hulk Maria Molina. 

If missionaries mean that giving up Church members 

who are thieves and wreckers to justice is doing Satan's 

work, I confess they appear to me to have singular ideas 

of right and wrong. I should counsel them to teach their 

congregations industry, and, if possible, sturdier notions of 

honesty. And Joe Kehoe's account, as might be expected, 

ends by the cowardly assassination of the negro witness 

by one of the convicted wreckers — called Chaulik. This 

scoundrel, who had vowed revenge, by a lying message 

enticed him to an island called Mang off the Paliker coast, 

laid wait in the bush by the landing place, and shot him 

through the head at short range ; then darting from 

ambush, hewed to pieces his expiring victim, whom he 

was not man enough to encounter fairly hand to hand. 

Joe Kehoe the same evening told us of a curious large 


flat stone on the Chapalap River called Takai-nin-Talang. 
It stands near Ketam where the Spanish met with such a 
warm reception in 1892. It has prints of a man's feet in 
the stone, and on its face weapons carved in outline, which 
from his description mightily resemble the Japanese Kat- 
ana or curved swords. He gave us further edifying anec- 
dotes ; amongst others, one of his meeting a boat-load of 
missionaries on the Matup flats near Metalanim Harbour, 
whilst he was taking a cargo of kava down to a Fijian 
trading schooner lying in port. " Oh, for shame, Mr 
Kehoe," rose their reproachful chorus. " Why have you 
got your boat loaded with that nasty root ? " To which 
impertinence Joe answered like a man, and thus he took 
up his parable. " See here, and don't make no mistake. 
You won't use it yourself, more fools you ! You won't 
let natives use it or sell it. Haven't you got sense to see 
this is the only way to get quit of it out of the country. 
You make me tired." 

On the next day, March 26th, we continued our clear- 
ing operations and took more photographs of portions of 
the wall at various angles, and explored the underground 
chambers C and D, which, to our disappointment, yielded 
only scanty results. C is about fourteen feet deep and 
extremely narrow. Joe Kehoe, being of slender though 
wiry build, was lowered with a lantern to assist him in 
his labours. He turned over a lot of soil, but only got a 
few beads, fragments of shell bracelets, and mouldering 
bones. Just as we are finishing chamber D with a like 
result, a native arrives in some excitement to tell us that 
a steamer is coming into the great harbour, a rare occur- 
rence, for prudent skippers nowadays give the place a wide 
berth. She turns out to be the Quiros, on one of her 
cruises round the island. Her kind-hearted commander, 
Don Miguel Velasco, has put into this uninviting port on 
the chance of conciliating King Paul, and at the same 
time rendering any possible assistance to our expedition. 
That very afternoon I sent Nanit and Ch£tan on board 

3 2. 


with a letter to the Captain and his Lieutenant Don 
Lorenzo Moya, inviting them next day to visit the scene 
of our operations and witness the clearing of the east and 
north sides of the great outer wall, and the photographing 
of further portions of the stone-work. By and by the boys 
came back with a courteous letter from Don Miguel ac- 
cepting the invitation, and asking me to come on board 
to dinner that evening. Joe preferred to stay with 
Theodoro and Nanit and keep watch and ward, but his 
two sons and Chetan willingly came along. Once in the 
broken water by the entrance to the great harbour, we find 
navigation in our small canoe a very different business from 
paddling along the still backwaters of Nan-Matal. The 
wild white horses are cresting the seas outside the harbour 
mouth to eastward ; inside there is a very heavy ground- 
swell, the rollers sweeping in one after another, and huge 
masses of green water toss us skyward like a plaything. 
Then down again into the deeps we sink, with the spume 
hissing and tingling in our ears, and another great wall 
forming up behind us in the gathering dusk. Just off 
Tolopuel there is a submerged stack of rocks over which, 
even in calm weather, comb great shoal-water breakers. 
Our little steersman from Kiti, not knowing the dangers 
of this part of the coast, takes us right into the heart of 
the foaming welter, and the next quarter of an hour is 
lively indeed. But the lights of the Quiros — welcome 
beacon — are shining out ahead in the deepening gloom. 
Our canoe, though small, is solid, and we dash our paddles 
in with a will, and after some narrow escapes from upsetting 
win our way slowly into calmer water, and think ourselves 
fortunate to be there. 

We met with a warm welcome on the Quiros, but 
noticed with misgiving certain sinister-looking fellows — 
strangers to us — on the deck ; spies of King Paul, sent 
under the mask of friendship to take note of the vessel, 
her fittings and stores, and to repeat every word uttered 
which might give information of Spanish plans. When 


they saw us their countenances fell, and they were soon 
paddling ashore — their plans for the time defeated — from 
which I augur a sleepless night for suspicious King Paul 
and trouble brewing for us in the near future. We re- 
ceived cordial congratulations on our success, and after 
spending a pleasant evening rowed back, passing under 
lee of Tomun and reaching Uchentau about midnight, by 
a new route altogether, through an uncharted portion of 
the amazing labyrinth — a thorough clearing and explora- 
tion of which would entail the labours of a small party 
for several months. 

March 27th. — As agreed, the first and second lieu- 
tenants, with two Manilla sailors, turned up at Uchentau 
about nine o'clock in the morning. This was their first 
visit to the ruins, and the sight of the great gateway and 
the high walls peeping out of the masses of jungle, keenly 
excited their wonder and admiration. We showed them 
the central vault, and pointed out the peculiar Japanese- 
looking frieze or cornice running along on the top of the 
inner line of wall. We then viewed the portion near 
tomb C, where the inner wall is in a ruinous condition, 
and the court strewn with broken shafts and pillars of 
toppled masonry, taking our visitors round the courtyard, 
which by this time had been cleared of its jungle by 
vigorous knife and axe work. 

With the assistance of the two Manilla sailors we fell 
to work once again to bring more of the masonry into 
view, and more photographs were taken of the south-west 
and north-east angles. Clearing as we went, we made a 
complete circuit of the Place of the Lofty Walls, as the 
Ponapeans term the precinct. Every foot of the island is 
covered with almost impenetrable forest and jungle. On 
three sides the walls face directly on the waterway, on the 
south there is a belt of vegetation which we had no time 
to explore. Standing on the south-east angle, where the 
wall is nearly forty feet in height, one looks down on a 
green abyss of nodding woodland, with never a glimpse of 




the network of canals rippling beneath the screen. In 
clearing this angle on the inner side we found the stone- 
work less regular than on the outer face, where these 
astonishing blocks lie alternately sidewise and crosswise 
on a plane of the greatest nicety. Effect from the out- 
side was clearly the aim of the builders. The north-east 
angle is occupied by an enormous Aio or Banyan tree, 
firm-rooted in the solid masonry, over which it towers full 
fifty feet, buttressed with its long root-sprays, and thrust- 
ing bunches of thread-like root-fibres into every crevice. 
As they swell these exercise a constant and gradually 
increasing force, wrenching asunder the blocks from their 
resting-places. When a high wind blows through the 
tree-tops the continuous swaying and rocking movement 
racks the structure through and through in every joint 
and key-stone. These mighty forces, working slowly but 
surely, must sooner or later bring the wall down in ruins. 

The picture of our group excellently shows up the pro- 
portions of the masonry, with its tasselling of birds'-nest 
and polypody fern, and the mighty Incubus, king of the 
forest, perched above firm-rooted, shaking his myriad 
branches in the breeze. After resting awhile we hewed 
our way along the north terrace, finally coming out upon 
the canal which bounds the west side. Our photograph x 
of the north-west angle gives a happy impression of the 
style of masonry at this junction, the two walls running 
up high and bluff like the bows of a Japanese junk, from 
which model they were possibly designed. The figure in 
the foreground is that of the Spanish first lieutenant, 
bestriding a projecting shaft of the stone-work that shoots 
out like a bowsprit over the canal below. Beneath 
stretches a belt of young coco-palms of recent growth, 
their reddish stems just merging into green. 

In order to take the bearings of the place properly, 
our visitors kindly promised me the use of the cruiser's 
compass next day, and as it was now getting near sunset, 

1 Journal of Royal Geographical Society, February 1899, p. 122, q.v. 


insisted on my taking a couple of boys and going on 
board with them to dinner. Not content with this, on 
our return they supplied us with various articles from the 
ship's stores to reinforce our scanty commons. We re- 
tired to rest, taking no thought for the morrow, and 
well contented with the day's work done. But whilst 
we were sleeping mischief was brewing. 

March 28th. — Early next morning a canoe glides up 
manned by five of King Paul's braves, evil-looking vaga- 
bonds, bearing a request from that monarch for the two 
white-faces and the Manilla dog (Kiti-en- Manila) — (poor 
Theodoro !) — to present themselves, and give account of 
their nefarious doings. It turns out that King Paul is 
filled with rage at the coming of the Quiros into port, 
and suspects some deep design of the Spaniards. His 
superstitious terrors have been awakened by tales from 
stray fishermen, who, passing through the waterways of 
Nan-Matal, were startled to view the havoc wrought in 
the shrouding jungle by our axes and knives. At first 
they thought the devils of the wood and air had done 
this thing, but a closer inspection revealed human agency. 
It seems that they had a tradition that the spirits of 
the slaughtered Builders had entered into the trees that 
have sprung up where the great battle was fought. Mr C. 
F. Wood mentions the same superstition shown during his 
visit to Metalanim, and Mr H. O. Forbes tells of a similar 
experience of his in one of the Uma-Luli or sacred groves 
in the interior of Timor. His Majesty has also heard of 
our find, which he interprets as a hoard of hidden gold or 
silver. This appeals to his ingrained avarice, and he wants 
his share. Theodoro, with a small revolver, slips out of 
the house and takes to his heels into the bush. The 
little boy Chetan also makes good his escape — steals 
somebody's fishing canoe and flees for his life down the 
coast, and never looks behind him till across the Kiti 
border. Wondering what rod in pickle lies ready for 
us, we are conducted to Tomun where King Paul and 


two or three of his chiefs await us. Amongst them I 
saw my Ponatik landlord, Mr David Lumpoi, who seemed 
very ill at ease. The angry old monarch turned to us 
and rated us sharply for our unhallowed work which 
he bade us cease once and for all, and leave the district 
that very day on pain of being treated as enemies to the 
tribe. As the Roman philosopher said to Julius Caesar, 
" It is ill arguing with a man who commands ten legions." 
Nevertheless, observing that David was not giving full 
effect to my answers, I took up my parable, regardless of 
etiquette, addressing the irate monarch in a few straight- 
forward sentences in the local dialect to this effect : — 
(1) That we had made a contract and expected him, 
having received payment before hand, to keep his side 
of it. (2) That we had done no harm to the masonry, 
and had dug up no gold or silver as he supposed. 
(3) That since our coming in the tribe we had behaved 
peacefully and defrauded no man. (4) That as he de- 
sired us to go, go we should, but at our own convenience, 
not his. (5) That we would make him a by- word amongst 
the tribes for his broken faith. Finally I told him that if 
he meditated any treachery that an English man-of-war 
might call in one day and ask inconvenient questions. 
To these observations he made no reply for a while, 
scanning me earnestly, seemingly puzzled and at a loss 
what to make of it. At length he grunted out sulkily 
that he didn't like white men, and that his people didn't 
either, and was dismissing us with further threats and 
warnings, which, to his infinite wonder, I treated very 
lightly. " Tell your king there," said I, in the current 
Ponapean, to a chief close by, "that I will return in a 
year or two and bring with me a party of Irishmen with 
picks and spades and lamps and muskets, and we will dig 
where we please. By and by you will understand white 
men better." The king took my jesting remarks, which 
may come true some day after all, in earnest. We parted 
gravely and ceremoniously. And this was the last I saw 


of that puissant monarch the Ichipau of Metalanim. We 
made our way back to Uchentau, and consoled poor 
Theodoro whom we found in a very dismal frame of 
mind. But he brightened up about mid-day when a 
boat of armed Manilla sailors came ashore from the 
Quiros with the promised compass. We soon turned 
to and established the bearings of Nan-Tauach, made 
certain measurements, which hitherto we had left undone, 
and the man with the camera took shots until nearly the 
last plate of his stock was used. We took a farewell pull 
around the canals — our crew gazing with wonder at the 
relics of a past civilisation that greeted them at every bend. 

Presently we gathered from our escort that overnight a 
present of bright-coloured poisonous fish had been sent on 
board from King Paul. The cook or one of the forecastle 
hands, happening to taste a portion, was seized with violent 
pains to which he almost succumbed. Treachery, with- 
out doubt, is in the air. 

Between Kontaiak and Panachau it appears that we are 
not the only folk out on the water this day. Two other 
boat-loads of sailors and marines, on shore leave, are 
rowing up and down the waterway in an aimless sort of 
fashion. One or two native canoes are also going about 
under colour of fishing, but doubtless in reality sent out to 
observe and report upon the movements of these un- 
authorised bodies of strangers invading the precinct. 
Quite possibly many more of King Paul's spies lie hidden 
in the bush, burning to make a dash upon the unconscious 
liberty men. For the sight of a Manilla man to a native 
of these parts is like a red rag to a bull. Fortunately, 
however, nothing of the kind happens. 

Our Manilla men land us at Uchentau and return to 
the ship, taking off some curios as a present to the captain, 
also a note informing him of the interruption of our opera- 
tions in the district, begging him to report the facts at 
headquarters, and strongly advising him to run no risks 
by giving his men leave to go ashore in the present state 


of affairs. And the same afternoon we started for Lot, 
where for the next two or three days we had ample work 
in hand, sorting and washing curios, with Theodoro 
industriously developing plates with his mysterious and 
evil-smelling chemicals. Curious natives dropped in from 
time to time sniffing the strange odours, which they plainly 
told us in the jargon of their kind savoured strongly of 
Rakim, or demoniac powers and the Lake of Fire and 
Brimstone — L4-en-Kichiniai, the mainstay of their chari- 
table creed. After a day or two our landlord arrived and 
promptly demanded double the original rent agreed upon, 
clamouring loudly for instant pay. His ruse absolutely 
failed, and we elected to leave his inhospitable roof and 
move further down the coast towards the Kiti border. 

A good opportunity for departure was given us by the 
arrival of a Tahitian trader, Ruiz, with his sailing-boat, 
engaged in collecting copra and ivory nuts along the coast. 
He readily agreed to take us off, and to land me at Joe 
Kehoe's place at Nantamarui, and take the Manilla man 
and the curios over to his own place in Kiti. So we paid 
our small debts in Ponatik after a deal of palaver with 
Keroun — mercenary old rogue — who demanded five 
dollars for the loan of a kettle, three for a fowl, and ten 
more for a dozen wild yams he had supplied. He 
frightened the Manilla man into tears with his loud talk 
and bluster until I flung him a dollar and a few sticks of 
tobacco in full quittance, and as he was still dissatisfied, 
forcibly thrust him off the verandah. David, for his part, 
agreed to meet us up in the Colony a little later on, and 
there receive a full settlement of the rent due to him. I 
may here remark that when we met a fortnight later this 
Ponapean Shylock caused us great annoyance by his 
extortionate demands. He behaved in a most insolent 
manner before the Spanish Governor, who, though plainly 
unwilling to disoblige a chief of influence in so turbulent 
a district, could not in justice allow him to make such 
unheard-of overcharges. For he kept on demanding 


double pay, utterly repudiating his own written and 
signed agreement when shown him, and putting forward 
yet further frivolous and unreasonable claims. Finally, 
Master David, after a stern reprimand from the Governor 
and a sharp rebuke from Nanapei, who acted as mediator, 
received his just payment with the sour phiz of a cabman 
accepting his exact fare, and amidst the undisguised con- 
tempt of the Kiti and Paliker natives in town sailed away 
home again, still grumbling. 

To resume. We embarked and dropped down with the 
afternoon tide to Nantamarui, where I landed at Joe's to 
stay a few days with the good old fellow. During this visit 
I examined a curious pile of stone-work about three hun- 
dred yards in the rear of his house, and added still further 
to my long list of rare and curious dialect words, Mrs 
Kehoe (Litak-en-Na), a most kindly old lady, lending most 
zealous and effectual aid. We also indulged in a deal of 
speculation as to the origin and history of the engineering 
marvel we had so lately quitted, and I may here quote in 
conclusion Kubary's able summing-up of the whole matter, 
which to me seems amply borne out both by native 
tradition and inherent probability, not to mention the 
result I was fortunate enough to obtain on the spot. 
In his conclusions I heartily concur. 

i . The stone buildings of Nanmatal were erected by a 
race preceding the present inhabitants of Ponape. For 
tradition declares that the last king of the primitive race, 
the Dziautoloa (i.e. Chau-te-leur), lived on the island of 
Nangutra. He himself resided in the stone-town, whilst 
the people lived on the chief island and had to support 
the ruler. One day a stranger of the name of Idzikolkol 
landed on the little island of Nan-Pulok. He came from 
the Ant or Andema Islands, lying about ten nautical miles 
west of Ponape, and fearing that Nanmatal was too thickly 
populated, he thought it advisable to go back again. A 
new landing followed in Metalanim, and being informed 
by a woman of the military weakness of the Dziautoloa, 






he was fortunate enough to drive the king back upon the 
chief island, and even to kill him. This Idzikolkol was 
the founder of the customs which endure to this day, and 
the Idzipaus of Metalanim are his successors. 

2. The builders of Nanmatal belonged to the black race 
and the Ponapeans are a mixed race. 

The proof lies in the following. At the excavation of the 
three vaults of Nan Tauacz, and the till then undisturbed 
graves of Nanmorlosaj (i.e. Nan-moluchai) and Lukoporin, 
Kubary found amongst the human bones four calvaria — 
skull-tops — which clearly showed that the heads were 
dolichocephalous, or corresponded with a middle form 
between long and short skulls. 1 The difference between 
one of these disinterred skulls and those of the present 
race, is : — 

Disinterred skull : length 181 millimetres, breadth 127 
mm. [cephalic index 70*2], facial angle unknown. 

Native skull of to-day : length 170 mm., breadth 1 3 5 J 
mm. [cephalic index 797], facial angle j6° 3c/. 

3. The ruins of Ponape afford no proof of the sinking of 
the island, on the contrary they unmistakably show that 
they are the remains of a water-building. 

4. The four-fold aspect deprives of all support the theory 
that the ruins are the remains of fortifications built by 
Spanish pirates. The discovery of a Spanish cannon in 
the year 1839 by H.M.S. Lame proves nothing, beyond 
confirming the rumour of the wreck of a great ship on Ant 
Island long before the rediscovery of the Seniavin Islands 
by Admiral Liitke in 1828 ; probably one of the cannons 
lying on the shore was taken from thence to Roan Kitti 
(i.e. Ronkiti). 

1 A skull measured by Dr Cabeza Pereiro from Ponape had a length of 
184 mm. and a breadth of 140, which gives a cephalic index of 76*1. Four 
other Micronesian crania from the neighbouring group of the Mariannes had 
respectively cephalic indices of 76*55, 73*31, 71*27, and 70*98, giving a mean 
of 73-66. 



ON hearing from my kind old host of some curious 
ruins on a hill-side in the back country, I deter- 
mined to explore them. Theodoro, my photographer, it 
will be remembered having finished all his plates, much to 
his satisfaction had been despatched across the border to the 
Catholic settlement of King Rocha at Aleniang — to per- 
form his chemical operations in peace, and there abide 
collecting and labelling botanical specimens until he 
received further instructions. Accordingly one fine morn- 
ing Joe Kehoe, his eldest son Lewis, and myself are trudg- 
ing sturdily up the hill-ridge behind Nantamarui over a 
rough, steep and intricate trail — I will not call it pathway 
— thickly carpeted with the convolvuluses Yo/ and Chenchel. 
The weeds underfoot treacherously hide from our view 
numerous slippery boulders and fragments of shivered 
basalt. By and by the labyrinth gets worse than ever, 
and for several hundred yards we have to fight our way on, 
hewing right and left with our eighteen-inch knives, climb- 
ing over fallen trunks of great forest trees and ducking 
under low natural archways of Kalau or hibiscus. As by 
degrees we worked our way nearer to the region of tall 
forest trees the underwood became less dense. On our 
right lies a green valley planted with taro, bananas, and 
breadfruit, with a full-fed brook singing down through it in 
its zigzag course beneath the mellow shadows. To our 
left stretches a steep mountain-slope, along whose slippery 
sides we scramble, picking our way cautiously amongst 
Note. — A portion of this chapter is from a paper read by the author before 
the Royal Geographical Society, December 12th, 1898. 


gnarled roots and spreading buttresses of the ficoids Nin 
and Aio — the lesser and greater Banyan trees. Scattered 
at our feet like little bright-blue olives, lie the berries of 
the Chatak or Elczocarpus, dear to the fruit-pigeons, the 
grey-dove (Murroi), the green-doves {Kinuet and Kingking), 
and the violet-brown ground pigeon (Paludi). These 
Elaeocarpi grow often to over ioo feet in height. Finally 
passing one of the buttressed kings of the forest we 
suddenly came upon a low breastwork of stones enclosing 
the object of our search, which turned out to be a cemetery 
in the shape of an irregular or broken parallelogram, as can 
be seen from the sketch plan. Six graves were found in 
the lower enclosure and three on a platform raised five feet 
above the level of the ground. All were little vaults not 
exceeding four or four and a half feet in length — roofed 
in with massive slabs of basalt — the graves of the Chok- 
alai, Kichin-Aramach or Little Folk, woodland elves, 
answering to our own pucks and pixies, to the Trolds, 
Cobolds, and Dwarfs of the Teutonic peoples, and to the 
Patupaiarehe of the Maoris. Ethnologists would style 
them dwarf Negritos. These, according to Ponapean 
tradition, were the little dwarfish folk who dwelt in the 
land before the coming of the Kona and Li-ot, the giants 
and the cannibals. The two latter terms probably repre- 
sent respectively the Malayo-Polynesian settlers and the 
Melanesians from the south. The speech of the dwarfs, 
it is said, was a chattering and a gibber as that of bats. 
They were dark of skin and flat-nosed (Timpak). They 
are believed still to haunt the dark recesses of the forest, 
and to be very malignant and revengeful. I was told that 
one man who came to this haunted dell to plant kava was 
caught up and spirited away by the revengeful goblins, and 
his lifeless body was found days afterwards stretched upon 
a great fiat rock by the seashore off Nantiati Point. A 
curious fact concerning this primitive race was supplied 
me by the Au of Marau shortly before leaving Ponape. 
The people at the mouth of the Palang River near the 


Chokach and Kiti border are said to have been descended 
from the Chokalai, who it seems were not everywhere 
exterminated by the Malayo-Polynesian conquerors. The 
Au's description runs thus. " In the speech of the Palang 
folk is a most foolish undercurrent of chatter ; they are 
shorter in stature, and their skins darker than their neigh- 
bours ; their noses are flat and they are known throughout 
the tribes as Macha-en-Paikop or the Paikop-faces. Now 
the Paikop is the most ill-favoured of fishes, with wide 
goggle-eyes, and a face as flat as a dish." 

Unluckily I had no opportunity of visiting the Palang 
folk, who are said to be thieving and treacherous. There 
seems no reason why the tale of the Au should not be 
true, and that we have here overlapped and all but exter- 
minated the survivors of the Negrito race who made these 
curious little graves. Be it remarked that in Ponape, the 
Marquesas, and many other islands, the natives have a 
dread of venturing too far into the interior — their sensi- 
tive fancies filling the mountain jungle with deadly lurk- 
ing influences and the arrows of fairy foes — doubtless a 
recollection of early struggles of the Malayan races in 
Indonesia and their own islands with the dwarf aborigines 
of the mountain and the bush. 

The name of the dell is Ponial, i.e. " Over the pathway," 
so called because the mountain slope overhangs an old 
trail leading down to Nantamarui, over which we have 
with such difficulty won our way. The wild pandanus 
{Matal or Taip) shoots up everywhere around the ceme- 
tery, waving her sword-shaped blades, triply fluted and 
edged with fine rows of prickles, and the Hibiscus tiliaceus 
weaves her intricate labyrinth of shoots ; branches and 
roots spreading in, out, above, around and below. The 
Talik-en- Wal, or climbing hartstongue fern, twines thick 
around the stems of infant forest trees in this grand 
nursery of Nature. The small round yellow fruits of the 
Nin and the blue oblong fruits of the Eloeocarpus lie 
sprinkled amongst greenest cushions of moss and the 

"W90 T»- 8,ro T 






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fibrous roots of the bush-ferns, which in thick wavy 
clumps flourish under the shadow of great forest trees. 
We set to work at our excavations. After clearing away 
the luxuriant undergrowth, we cautiously removed the 
basalt slabs at the top of each little vault, and found in 
the red soil within an abundant deposit of blue mould 
promising good results. In the first few minutes a very 
diminutive stone gouge was turned up and a stone knife. 
No other results rewarded our efforts, save a few pieces of 
mouldering bone. All the rest with the great lapse of 
time in a damp and hot climate have literally melted 
away like sugar. A fresh proof of the great antiquity of 
this burial place is the fact that not one single red or 
white shell-bead was brought to light in any of the seven 
graves opened, although in the central vault of Nan-Tauach 
we had found a very large number. The form of the 
cemetery is an irregular or broken parallelogram, as will 
be seen from the accompanying sketch. The upper por- 
tion of the cemetery was occupied by a raised platform 
of basalt blocks five feet in height. Upon this were 
three vaults overgrown by a tremendously thick awning 
of the ever troublesome Hibiscus. The graves on the 
upper platform gave no better return, yielding only a few 
pieces of mouldering and unsubstantial bone to our most 
careful search ; whereupon Lewis shrewdly remarked that 
the Chokalai must have been either very stupid people 
who wouldn't work, or very poor and barbarous wretches 
not to have any treasures to bury. 

Whilst making our measurements and excavations, we 
came across several skink lizards rather large in size, called 
Kieil by the natives, who hold them in a holy horror. 
During our work we were bothered by the attentions of 
numerous minute bush or sand-flies (the Em-en-wal), 
which, however, are not nearly so troublesome as their 
cousins of sun-scorched Nukuhiva in the North Marquesas. 
Towards sunset we departed, leaving the dell to the fairies 
whose solitude we had so rudely disturbed. A second 


journey next day proved equally fruitless as regards relics, 
resulting only in the clearing away of a huge quantity of 
brushwood, which the teeming life of the bush by this 
time has certainly replaced in ten-fold luxuriance, to cover 
up the sleeping-place of these departed folk once more 
from the face of man. 

The evening of our second visit to the Valley of the 
Dwarfs, my host told me of another ancient burying-place on 
one of the hills to the north-west of our valley. So next 
day, armed with a whale-spade and a bundle of digging 
sticks, we struggled up the steep hill-side over the most 
primitive of pathways. A quarter of an hour's sharp climb 
brings us into a dense thicket crowning the summit of the 
duff. A few areca palms are in evidence. From the tree 
trunks the Freycinetia droops her narrow sword-shaped 
leaves, and the long green tongues of the Bird's-nest fern are 
waving in their serial circles, and the plumes and crests of 
many another knight of the forest army glance and glim- 
mer in the cool dark silence. Restful to the eye are the 
mellow harmonies of green melting into one another on 
every hand like the notes of a mighty anthem. Masses of 
wild ginger {Ong-en-Pele) carpet the ground below, dappled 
with the shadows of boughs see-sawing overhead in the 
deep fresh draught of the trades. The air is filled with the 
aromatic fragrance of their crushed leaves, as we patiently 
win our way onwards. Under the shadow of lofty forest 
trees flourishes many a clump of lowlier shrub of the 
woodland, the Ixora with its gorgeous cascade of yellow- 
centred umbels, and the minute starry blossoms of the 
Ka-n-Mant, a firm-grained yellow-wood shrub, and the 
knotted stems and powdery catkins of the sombre Kava 
plant. These and many another, some ornamental, very 
many medicinal, each with its picturesque native name, 
associated with some quaint legend or fancy. Ever 
and anon comes down through the aisles of the woodland 
a waft of fragrance from the Matakel, the flower of some 
remote tree-pandanus, distilling its subtle and delicate 


exhalation rich as incense-cloud, all as though some old 
god of the forest were breathing down a benediction upon 
the weary sons of men. 

Working our way through the wilderness we came upon 
a double parallelogram of stone-work, the outer wall on 
the east side measuring 115 feet in length, and the south 
side 75. The average thickness of the wall was 6 feet, 
the height about 5 feet. It was built up of rough blocks 
of stone of varying sizes, the largest being 4 feet in length 
by 3 in thickness. The inner conforming parallelogram 
of wall measured 35 feet on the east side and 30 feet on 
the south, and was about 4 feet in height. In this last 
enclosure were two platforms of stone facing one another, 
doubtless the tombs of two heroes of ancient date. These 
we cleared of loose stones and excavated superficially. 
Nothing, however, but a few fragments of bones and bits 
of shell ornament rewarded our labours. Perhaps the 
next comer with more time and better implements may 
be more fortunate. In any case it will not be labour lost. 
There are many more such stone enclosures {Lil-charaui) 
upon Ponape, especially upon the island of Tapak, a little 
south-east of the Mant Islands, off the coast of U, near 
the Nallam-en-Pokoloch deeps, before you come to Aru 
on the Metalanim border. It is for future explorers to 
make them give up their secrets, and for the skilful artist 
to set down upon his magic canvas some of the wonder- 
fully beautiful woodland scenes and effects which I have 
striven feebly to depict in words. Neither must they, 
nor indeed can they, pass over indifferently these relics of 
a gray antiquity, venerable as dolmen, kistvaen, or 
kjoekkenmodding — the work of a vanished people who, 
Titan-like, have stumbled down into the darkness of a 
mysterious doom. 

A few days after our excursion to Pona-Ul we visited 
the remains of an ancient native fortress near the summit 
of a hill to the eastward. We reached the place after a 
tedious hour's climb, tramping along winding slippery 


paths and over boulders and masses of fallen rock, making 
our way upward through the shadow of hanging woods. 
We passed the foundations of some old houses and two 
or three clearings in the lonely mountain wilderness where 
bananas were growing, and at last, high up on the slope of 
another steep hill, its rugged sides carpeted with the large 
round leaves and white and sulphur bells of the mountain 
convolvulus, we find ourselves confronted with a forbid- 
ding-looking wall of loose stones, up which we scramble 
on to a rude terrace, with another high and compact mass 
of stone-work looking down upon us. Yam creepers have 
everywhere forced their way up through the stones, their 
long twining stems furnished with a bristling array of 
small black prickles. These possibly the relics of an old 
plantation in the neighbourhood, which when there was no 
one left to tend it any longer, was swallowed up once 
more by the envious bush. 

We climbed gingerly up the slippery face of the 
masonry and found ourselves standing on a flat level 
terrace on top of the pile which is some 1 5 feet above the 
circling ring of stone-work below. The length of the 
terrace facing seaward is 48 feet, and its width 20 feet. 
Tradition declares that many years ago the Noch or chief 
of the Nantamarui and Nantiati districts built this strong- 
hold and reared a great Lodge on top of the platform, 
which looks very much like one of the Mexican teocalli 
or truncated pyramids. As he failed to pay nopue or 
tribute, the king of Metalanim assailed him in his moun- 
tain stronghold, but on two or three occasions was hurled 
back with great loss. Despairing to take the fort by 
storm, the besiegers had resort to subtlety, and drew off 
their forces. Some while after news came up from the 
valley of the Chapalap River that civil war had broken 
out and that a favourite cousin or brother of his own was 
in danger. The fearless defender of this mountain fast- 
ness determined to take his best warriors with him and 
go down to the aid of his hard-pressed relative. When 


he reached the village with his succour, the very people 
he came to help, who were in the plot all along, turned 
on their bewildered visitor and massacred him and his 
whole following. Another party stormed Lang-Takai, 
killing old men, women and children who had been left 
behind. Only two or three of the women were spared 
from the butchery, and were added to the seraglio of the 
conqueror, and their descendants are in Metalanim to this 
very day. 

Another tale of blood will further illustrate the martial 
side of Ponapean character. 

Nearly one hundred years ago there was war between 
the tribes of Kiti on the south-west and Metalanim on 
the east, and many were the men of might who were 
slain on both sides. Now it fell out that there was a 
mighty festival holden on the southern slopes of Mount 
Wana, near the settlement of Aleniang. A Metalanim 
war-party came softly up the tau through the marshes 
and stole upon the settlement. The Nach was filled with 
feasting and the noise of revel, when in burst the enemy 
and slew and slew till they were weary and — behold the 
weakness of mighty men — sat them down to drink and 
boast and make merry, for a strong delusion was leading 
them to doom. For the conquered were no cowards, and 
some of them that fled turned again and took counsel 
together. One crept back and from his hiding-place saw 
the foes drinking in the lodge and heard the insults of 
their triumph songs. He returned and told his comrades, 
and wrath and desire for revenge quenched their fear. 
Through the woods they sent to Annepein for succour, 
and the dwellers on the banks of Palikalau armed and 
came over. Some of the people of the Ichipau were 
sleeping, and more were drunk and helpless, when the 
Children of the White Bird broke in upon them like a 
raging sea. And the scent of more than kava greeted 
the hovering crowds of Spirit-shapes (Am) in that reeking 
temple of slaughter. Hence the proverb to this day : 


" Many came unbidden, but all came to stay." Thus the 
Children of Kiti held their own and more, taking five 
lives for every two. And the hearts of the "Stammerers" 1 
turned cold and for many months there was peace in the 
lands of Wana. 

During the revolt of 1890 and the Spanish bombard- 
ment of Metalanim that followed, Lang-Takai was the 
fastness whither King Paul determined to send the old 
men, women and children of the tribe for safety if the 
hated white men gained the upper hand. 

A fine view of the island and harbour of Mutok, the 
Tenedos of Liitke, was obtained from the level terrace 
above. The island resembled in shape an artist's soft hat 
with its broad brim and deep depression in centre. Far 
to the westward stretches away the line of mangroves and 
salt water brush bordering the fertile lowlands of Kiti. 
In the distance are Nalap and Kapara and several smaller 
islets, which the natives declare are broken portions of a 
once extensive mainland. Further off yet, a long low 
blue line on the horizon, lie the Ant Atolls, quaintly styled 
in the maps, by an obvious error, " And-ema " or " Ant-over- 
There" On the slopes below flourishes a forest world 
full of rich promise to the botanist, if any should hereafter 
visit these remote regions. Here and there a clearing 
devoted to the culture of the coconut, the banana, the 
plantain, the taro, the breadfruit and the yam, all of which 
bear names cognate with their equivalents in the Polynesian 
dialects. Below, the hanging woods sweep lower and 
lower, merging into the tract of marshy land overgrown 
with mangrove clumps encircling Ponape. In middle 
distance the varying green and blue waters of the still 
lagoon, the outer edge of the reef crested with the white 
heads of the eternal breakers. Beyond, the deep blue 
Pacific studded with myriad islets, far, far out of ken 

1 The Metalanim folk speak a curious crabbed and antiquated dialect, 
much ridiculed by their critical neighbours of Kiti as " Nannamanam " or 


beyond the sunset, where many a liquid unharvested acre 
stretches on and onward to the gates of Gilolo Sunda, and 
San Bernardino, whence for ages and ages the swarming 
populations of Asia have been pouring out through Indo- 
nesia, all too small for their teeming myriads, to spread 
themselves further eastward and southward, launching out 
their bold keels upon a great waste of unknown waters, 
wider than those known to Greek, Phceacian, Viking or 

A pleasant week soon passed. But alas ! I could no 
longer remain in this most hospitable corner of an inhospit- 
able province. For it was high time to be gone across the 
border into the friendly territory of King Rocha of Kiti. 

For that most Christian monarch, old King Paul, for 
whom one day a halter surely waits, has passed the word 
from parish to parish down his coast line, breathing out dire 
threats upon all or any of his subjects who should venture 
to receive, entertain, or in any way aid me. To my kind 
old host he despatched one of his myrmidons with an 
insultirg message and a most vengeful letter, to the effect 
that his coconut palms were in danger of being chopped 
down, his pigs slaughtered, his effects plundered, and his 
home birned over his head if he dared any longer harbour 
the macr.a puotapuot karialar, the accursed while man, as 
the old ra.scal rudely styled me. 

Well, tnere was no help for it. Nantamarui, if I stayed, 
was plainly under ban. A nice place for an industrious 
settler, who may, at a despot's whim, have his live stock 
destroyed, and all his improvements swept into instant 
ruin. So, ,vith many expressions of regard, I took leave 
of Joe and his kindly helpmate, their little girls Aroline 
and Adeline, and their stalwart sons Lewis and Warren, 
who paddled me across the bay and up to Aleniang, on 
the Kiti River, where my Manilla man, in charge of the 
curios, was staying with our friend the Tahitian trader. 
Here I put up for a few days, rambling about the beautiful 
and picturesque district of Mount Wana, and receiving 


much kindness from the people of the valley, their king 
Rocha, and the chiefs of Tiati, Roi, and Mutok, across 
the bay. 

All of these rendered me great assistance in my work 
by pointing out places of interest, and calling up many a 
tradition from the memories of some of the older natives, 
mere whispers of the olden time echoing fainter and 
fainter year by year down the long corridor of the ages, 
destined all too soon, if they find no speedy chronicler, 
to merge into the eternal silence. Whilst I sat conferring 
with the chiefs in the Council-Lodge, the Manilla man 
was scouring hill and dale with an attendant posse of 
small boys busy in collecting seeds and fruits, of which 
every evening they brought home good spoil, and the 
packets given me to fill for the Port Darwin Gardens 
were soon crammed to bursting point. Fearlessly the 
Camera-man ranges in the friendly valleys. No longer he 
quakes at the thought of sharp-shooters hidden in every 
thicket. No longer he pictures grim forms lurking in 
ambush behind every boulder, axe and knife in hand, to 
split his skull or crop his nose and ears. Nevertheless, 
by-and-bye, he would fain be gone, and I let him go. 
Longingly he bethinks him of the fascinating follies of 
Manilla, the cock-pit, the theatre, the languid gallantries 
of the Parian and the Luneta, and the attractive, but not 
always winning hazards of Panguingui and Chapdik, dear 
to the Tagal and Chinese gambler. Or he is home-sick 
for the pleasant woods and lowlands of Pampanga, and 
his mal de pays is stronger than his fears of mcl de mer. 

And thus Theodoro's term of work drew to an end. 
Our host's sailing-boat conveyed us to the colony where 
we stowed the curios and made our preparatons — he to 
go, and I to stay. A few days later the nail-steamer 
came into port ; and, in a brand new suit of clothes and 
with a cheerful countenance, laden with corrmissions and 
borrowed coin from all sides, the worthy artist went on 
board. And here my comrade vanishes out of the 


story. But not quite out of men's memory. For some 
of his creditors in the garrison I left awaiting his return 
to Ponape with the most lively interest and anxiety. 
But, alas, so unjust is man to his fellow-man ! He cometh 
not along. News was brought me a little while ago of 
his end. It was in keeping with his life. It seems that 
he returned to Manilla, joined the rebellion that had just 
then broken out, and was taken prisoner in a skirmish. A 
court-martial was held, and one fine morning the Spanish 
shot him on the water-front with a batch of his fellow- 
rebels. And that was the last of the poor creature. 

And here ends the story of my first four months in 



THE various excursions in and around Ponape de- 
scribed in the First Part had rendered familiar to 
me much of the inner life and outward fashions of the 
natives both on the east and west coast. Before detail- 
ing any further adventures, I will now give a carefully- 
considered description of the domestic economy of the 
Ponapeans, their weapons and dwellings. 

The dress of the men worn at work was a narrow 
girdle (Uaiuai-loi, in Yap Guai), about a foot in 
breadth and some four feet in length, exactly the same as 
formerly worn in Japan, made of the woven fibre or baste 
of the banana or of the Nin tree, often dyed yellow from 
the juice of the Morinda citrifolia. It goes once round 
the waist, down between the thighs, and is tucked in 
behind at the back, so as to leave a piece depending like 
a tail. (It is the Hume of the Marquesas, the Malo 
or Malomalo of Hawaii, Samoa and Fiji, the Maro of 
Tahiti, Mangareva and New Zealand, and the Palpal of 
the Mortlock Islands.) The dress worn on occasions of 
festival or after work was the Kol (that of a chief in the 
language of ceremony was called Mot) or native kilt, com- 
posed of the split filaments of young coconut leaflets (the 
pinnae of the branch) steamed in the oven, steeped a day 
in water under heavy stones, scraped with cockle-shells to 
remove the green vegetable matter. These also were 
often dyed bright yellow with turmeric, or with the juice 
of the bark of the Morinda citrifolia or Flame Tree. A 
new Kol is a pretty sight, but exposure to the sun quickly 


makes the bright hues fade out. Sometimes with the 
cockle-shell each frond would be carefully pinched, 
crimped, and creased into wavy lines, the work of the old 
women. This was a Kol-Ikoch. The working dress was 
called Likau-mal or Likau-en-tuka, and their regular 
dress for festivals or leisure Kapuot or Kapot. The chiefs 
and men of note in the community used to wear belts of 
banana fibre {Tor, Tur), elaborately woven out of banana 
fibre on which was strung rows of pink, white and grey 
shell beads. Curiously enough, in Hebrew Tur denotes a 
row of jewels. These were of two designs and varying 
sizes, one resembling in shape the Maori hei-tikis or 
rectangular pendants of greenstone called Pake or Puake 
— the other round, which they call Pul. For a common 
man to put on the belt of a chief was a serious offence in 
Ponape as in Hawaii, in which latter country the penalty 
was death : cf. the old distich — " Ina hume ke kanakai ko 
ke alii malo, e make noia." " If a common man bind on a 
chief's girdle, he shall die for it." Carved and plain shell- 
bracelets were also the fashion styled Luou-en-Matup from 
the place of their manufacture. A wise woman named 
Kamai is said to have invented them. The same word is 
applied to a ring of turtle-shell as far as Yap, fourteen 
hundred miles to the westward. (Possibly the word is 
the Lio or Liko of Polynesia, and denotes a hoop or circle.) 
Ear-rings of turtle-shell {Kichin-pof) were sometimes worn, 
but the Ponapeans of the present generation do not pull 
down and distort the lower lobe of the ear as do the 
Mortlock Islanders, and as the primitive people on Easter 
Island did, who were destroyed by a Polynesian invasion 
under Hotu-Matua, and styled by their conquerors the 
Taringa-Roroa or Long Ears. A similar custom prevailed 
amongst the early Bisayas in the Southern Philippines, and 
the Spanish chroniclers of the Conquest of Peru remark 
upon it as a fashion of the early Inca nobles. 

The dress of the women of Ponape was called Li-kau 
or Li-kau-tei (Kau, clothing ; Polynesian Aim or Kahu), a 


wide deep girdle depending as far as the knees, woven from 
the bark of the Nin — a common forest tree of the ficoid 
order. Native cloth made from the Paper Mulberry bark 
(Broussonettia) — the tapa or siapo or Ngatu of Polynesia 
does not appear to have been known to the Ponapeans. 
Necklaces of shells and flowers were much in use, likewise 
garlands of the fragrant Gardenia and Cananga odorata. 
Wreaths of polypody fern and various aromatic herbs and 
grasses were greatly in favour. Dancers, male and female, 
were fond of wearing fillets of banana leaf, dracaena ( Ting) 
and coconut leaflets. These last they would wind round 
their fingers, so that the tips projected above the knuckles. 
These, as they quivered in their hands, produced a rattling, 
whirring effect in the choruses, and were styled Anichinich. 

Their hats were made of pandanus leaf, helmet-fashion, 
with projecting peak — used by fishermen on the reef — 
called on Ponape Li-chorrop, on Kusaie Surafraf, on Yap, 
(where they assume the umbrella shape as worn by Chinese 
coolies and fishermen) Ruatch. Of late years the people 
of Pingelap and Kusaie have become famous for their 
clever workmanship in plaiting broad low sailors' hats on 
the European design. 

Materials. The raw material for their textile opera- 
tions were (i) the inner fibre of the banana — the Basho-fu 
of the Japanese ; (2) the bark of the Nin tree used in 
making a coarse sort of native cloth ; (3) the bark of the 
Kalau {Kala-hau), the Fau or Hau of the Polynesians. The 
Ponapean name means the Au from which Kal or string is 
made. It is the Gili-fau of the Mortlock Islanders, whose 
dialect has preserved so many South Polynesian forms. 
Strips of the bark of this tree whilst fresh are as 
tenacious as the green withes with which Samson was 
bound. This handy makeshift is called Tip-en-kalau. It 
is a valuable substitute for string, and when split fine is 
used for making nets. The fourth indispensable material 
is the Tipanit or coconut fibre, obtained after sinking the 
husks a few days in the sand about high water mark. Each 


tiny strand is laboriously twisted end on end between the 
deft fingers and thumbs of the old men, until a surprisingly 
strong cord or rope is formed — the thickness varying ac- 
cording to the patience of the operator. This is the far- 
famed cinnet cord so extensively used in Pacific waters for 
lashing cross-beams and posts into place in house-building, 
and in canoe-making as a substitute for nails in keeping 
the framework and delicate cross-pieces of the outrigger in 
place. This material the Ponapeans call variously Puel 
and Kichin-mot. 

TRAPS and Cages. The natives used to be very 
adept in constructing all manner of traps and snares out 
of the pliant strips of hibiscus. The nooses they used in 
snaring birds and wild pigs. These they called Letip or 
Litip, which being interpreted means a woman's deceit. 
Other kinds of traps they called Katikatia-mau, a word 
which in plain English signifies a good device. Nowadays 
this name is admiringly applied to those elegant instru- 
ments of torture sold by the traders known as gins or 
tooth-traps for the capture of the rat and the mus ridiculus, 
with whom the native is at endless feud. The primitive 
rat-trap was made of slips of reedgrass or fine cane, and 
the central ribs of coconut leaflets formed the Kachik or 
spring. The bait consisted of a lump of odorous Mar 
or fermented breadfruit, whilst a heavy piece of rock was 
laid so as to fall upon and crush the intruder directly the 
spring was touched. In Yap they call this trap Bildil. 
Now and then, but rarely, there is to be seen a cage 
(Packapach or U) made of slips of hibiscus wood cunningly 
joined together, in which sits a disconsolate-looking bird. 
The modern Ponapean, whatever his ancestors of a remoter 
day did, does not trouble his head much about taming 
birds — a pretty trait, by the way, in the character of his 
southern cousin the Samoan. However, one may see 
sometimes in a Ponapean hut a ridiculously tame blue 
heron (Kaualik), or a pretty black and white sea-bird 
called Chik — children's pets. Their matter-of-fact elders, 


knowing the trouble in times of scarcity of filling hungry 
mouths, are hardly likely to let childish sentiment interfere 
with the just claims of the larder. 

Fish Hooks and Fishing. The name Kdch denotes 
the hook of wood or bone, (in Kusaie Kou), the body of it 
mother-of-pearl (pat), the glitter of which attracts the fish 
like the bright metal spinner used, in trolling for pike in 
the English meres and the lakes of Scotland and Switzer- 
land. The metal fish-hooks of varying size which the traders 
have introduced are greatly in request. The Ponapean is 
a most keen fisherman. One skilled in this art is always 
assured of a goodly alliance in marriage, to which his 
resourcefulness as a food-provider entitles him. 1 

For bait they use bits of squid or cuttle-fish (Kich\ or 
else the bodies of hapless hermit-crabs (Umpa) torn from 
their snail-shell homes. They frequently use bundles of 
Up root for stupefying fish in the pools. When crushed 
up and dabbled in the water these roots exude a milky 
juice of a most powerful narcotic property, and the fish 
soon are floating about helpless. The larger Muraenas 
or sea-eels are the last to succumb, and finally writhe 
upwards out of the deeper and remoter holes in a stupid 
and comatose condition. 

Nets. Uk is the generic term for nets. They are made 
as a rule of strips of bark from the Hibiscus tree, or of 
the Oramai, a species of Ramie. 

Uk-alap. — Large stake-net or seine-net used for catching 
turtle and big fish, some twenty fathoms long by five in depth. 

Uk-e-tik. — A small seine-net. 

Chakichak. — A small casting net used for fishing on the 
edge of the reef just above the deep water. 

Naik. — A hand-net, with a bow-shaped rim. Used for 
scooping up fish driven down a narrow pass or ditch in 
the coral reef. 

Lukuk,Lukouk. — A hand-net used for catching small fish. 

1 The verb Lait or Lalait means "to go a-fishing." Cf. Malay, Laut, the 
sea ; Oxxng-latit, a pirate. 



Liem. — A bag-net used at openings of weir or passage 
at the beginning of ebb-tides, generally four days after 
full moon. 

Macha (Polynesian Matd) is the word used for the 
Mesh of the net. 

A fish-pen or weir of stone is called Mae, one of cane 
or reeds Liu. 

In Yap TJiagal is a cane- weir ; Aech or Etch, a stone 
weir ; Maot, a fish-pond. 

Household Implements, &c. Ponapeans style them 
all Kapua-kai. 

Mats. Loch is the mat of the country. It has a 
peculiar Japanese-like design and is sewn together, not 
plaited, and made of the leaves of a species of pandanus 
{Kipar), which answers to the Raufara of Tahiti, the Rau- 
ara of Rarotonga, and the Lauhala of Hawaii. Length 
generally about seven feet, breadth about five. The 
Paliker district is noted for its manufacture of these mats, 
which cost from six to eight Spanish dollars apiece. The 
Loch of a great tribal chief is called Parror in the lan- 
guage of ceremony. 

(2) Li-rrop or Woman's Rrop, is the name applied to 
mats of foreign make and pattern, such as those from 
Pingelap, Strong's Island, and the Marshall Islands — 
many of them very ornamental in design. The name 
itself seems to be a foreign word {Cf. Yap Tsop, Trop ; 
Gilbert Islands Roba Pingelap ; Rop). Cf Maori Repa 
a coarse mat. 

(3) Teinai are coarse mats plaited from coconut leaves. 
The article and its name alike borrowed from the Gilbert 
group, as also the rough baskets of the same material 
known as Onoto. 

(4) Kie, Kiel. — Sleeping mats made of finely-woven 
pandanus. Derived from the Mortlocks. Cf. Polynesian 
Kiekie, a species of pandanus used as a textile fabric ; 
and Kusaian Kiaki, a mat. 

Mosquito Screen. Tei-amu-che. — The tau namu of 


Nuku-Oro, and the Tai-namu of the south-west Pacific. 
The Ponapean mosquito screen, before the introduction 
of gauze and linen, is said to have been composed of a 
cloth made out of the bark of the Nin tree. The Paper 
Mulberry, from which the tap a, kapa, siapo, or native 
cloth of south-west Polynesia is made, is not used for this 
purpose in Ponape, although it does occur sparsely. 

Pillow. Ulul, Ulunga. — The Alunga of south-west 
Polynesia — either made of bamboo, or a log of wood — 
a length of the trunk of a tree-fern or pandanus tree, for 
the Ponapeans are a hardy vigorous folk, and care not 
over much for soft lying and sumptuous fare. 

BASKETS. Kiam. — A long flat basket or tray plaited 
roughly of coconut fronds split down the middle and in- 
terlaced in a diamond fashion. (Upon Kusaie Kuam). 

Kopo. — A circular basket of varying depth made of the 
same material. 

Kop-en-lait. — A fisherman's basket, somewhat larger than 
the above. 

Onoto. — A large coarsely-plaited fish-basket, a Gilbert 
Island word. 

Paikini. — Some thirty or forty of the above Kiam or 
flat trays fastened together, end on end, so as to form one 
long tray. This is heaped with food, and carried in 
solemn procession by about twenty men in the festivals 
celebrated in honour of a plenteous season. It is 
laid down on the grass, and a band of men approach 
with shell axes on their shoulders, with which they sever 
the strips of Kalau bark which bind the component 
kiam together. Then the food is apportioned, the choko 
or kava is brewed, the ancestral spirits are invoked, and 
the people fall to serious business tooth and nail. 

FAN. Ta-n-ir, i.e. Thing for fanning. — A fan made of 
pandanus or coconut leaves. Those intended for fanning 
up the embers are clumsy in make, but those designed for 
personal use are much more neat in finish, and resemble 
the Marquesan very closely. 


Et (Maori Kete, Samoan and Tahitian Ete). — A netted 
bag of Nin or Kalau fibre. 

COMBS. Rotam or Rokom. — Like those of Yap made 
out of the wood of the Koto or white mangrove, and of 
similar design. Now scarcely ever seen, and the name is 
now applied to the gutta-percha, celluloid and tortoise-shell 
combs supplied by the ever-active trader. 

For BOTTLES they use the hollowed circular fruits of 
the Pulel, Pelak, and Ichak plants, which belong to the 
Calabash family. The gourds are strung together by 
fives and sixes with cinnet. They use the large ones for 
storing drinking-water, the smaller for the various scented 
oils, in which native fancy so strongly delights. 

Cooking Utensils. In Ponapean 7«/(Ngatik Thai), 
denotes a wooden dish, platter, and even a coconut cup. 
It is the old Indian word Thai, Thaliya, Chaliya, and is 
doubtless a survival from some remote era of crockery- 
ware in Southern or Central Asia. Chapi is another name 
given in Ponape to vessels of wood of a circular shape. The 
latter word occurs in the Mortlock Sepei, Marshall Islands 
Chebi, Gilbert Islands Tabo, Pelews Theb. In the Mari- 
annes Tape denotes an earthen pot, the Yap equivalent 
being Thab, Thib or Tib, cf. Hebrew Saph, a bowl. The 
occurrence of this common word over so wide an area, 
points unmistakably to the gradual substitution of wooden 
for earthen vessels in Micronesia, owing to the industry 
of pottery-making falling into abeyance in certain spots 
where no suitable clay or kaolin was available. It is 
rather astonishing to see the art of pottery-making lost in 
a good-sized and well-settled island like Ponape, and 
retained in a small spot like Yap. A curious fact, illustrat- 
ing the same lost industry, was pointed out by the Rev. 
Lawes of Port Moresby in British New Guinea, in the 
preface to his useful vocabulary of the Motu dialect, in 
which the word Tunua, which in south-west and east 
Polynesian means to cook by broiling or roasting, is used in 
a special sense for the baking of pottery. The white man's 


iron-pot is supplanting everywhere the earthen vessels of 
Micronesia, where the primitive industry is yet preserved, 
The ainpot is to be found in most Ponapean households 
and embraces a variety of uses, being alternately used 
for making huge brews of black tea, and boiling quanti- 
ties of yam and coconut milk, the result being fre- 
quently a weird blending of different flavours on the 
palate of the European who drops in by chance to 

The Um, or earth-oven, where the raw food is steamed 
(cf. Motu Amu, the Umu of south-west Pacific lands), has 
too often been described by travellers to need detailed 
notice here. Cooking underground is the general mode 
in Ponape, although fish are frequently broiled on the 
glowing embers of dried coconut shells, their favour- 
ite fuel. An important kitchen utensil is known as a 
Kachak. It is an oval, flat-bottomed trough of Tong or 
Chatak wood, pointed at both ends like the bows of a 
boat, used like the Umete or Kumete of South Polynesia 
for concocting various toothsome masses of pounded yam, 
taro, bananas, plantains, or bread-fruit, mixed with coco- 
nut milk and salt water in varying proportions. In Ponape 
a whale-boat is actually called Waar-en-kachak, from its 
sharp fore and aft build. 

Their carving {Chap, Alat), was very ornamental, con- 
fined almost wholly to the bows and sides of their 
canoes and the blades of their dancing-paddles. I saw 
no carved pillars in their houses, as in Yap, neither did 
I notice any carven bowls or maces as in Samoa and 
the Marquesas. Specimens of the chequer and chevron 
designs from Metalanim may be seen from the originals 
now in the British Museum. 1 The Ponapeans use a needle 
of human bone for tattooing the elaborate designs on 
arms, thighs, and legs. This they call Kai, the operation 
Inting (Sulu Indan). 

No well-ordered establishment is complete without a 

i Vide photos facing p. 86. 





husking-stick (Ak), (called in Samoan O'a, and in Tongan 
Oka), used for tearing off the fibrous outer envelope of 
the coconuts. It is a stout stake of mangrove-wood, 
pointed at both ends, and driven into the ground at an 
angle of about 95 degrees. 

The same useful wood is used as a digging or planting 
stick like the Oka of the Hawaiians, and the Koa of the 
Aztecs in Mexico. Cut a little longer they make capital 
poles for punting canoes along in the shallower portions 
of the lagoon. These the Ponapeans used to call Lata 
(Hindu Latha), or Parrak. Where the Ak is found, the 
Pelik or scraper is seldom far off. 

LOOM. The Ponapeans in olden times had a sort of 
loom resembling the Puas of their neighbours of Kusaie, 
with which they wove the fibre of the banana and the bark 
of the Nin tree into the Uaiuai-lol or narrow girdles, or 
iuto the Li-kau, or woman's petticoat. This machine, 
now long out of use, they called Tantar (Hindustani Tant : 
Tantra id). The verbs describing the process in Ponapean 
are Tilpori, Toro and Ka-tantaki). 

Native houses often get dusty, so the industrious house- 
wife always has two or three brooms in hand for sweeping 
out the rubbish and keeping the mats clean and neat. 
These brooms are called Kap-en-nok or Bundles of Nok — 
the central ribs of coconut leaflets. 

In the house of any person of distinction there will 
generally be found a huge sea-chest {Kopd) or at all events 
a small camphor wood box (Kokon), in which the islanders 
love to secrete their possessions. 

If a native be given to carpentering pursuits, one may 
possibly see a cross-cut saw (Racharacli) hung up carefully 
out of harm's way, or a grindstone (U) standing sentinel 
in the courtyard amongst the pigs and chickens. 

The boat-builder greatly prefers the modern gimlet of 
steel (me-n-kapurropur), i.e. " the thing that whirls round " 
to the primitive borer of his forefathers made out of a long 
sharp-pointed Murex shell. It was formerly used for 


piercing boards and planks in canoe and house-building. 
The word for a hammer or mallet is Chuk or Kangar ; a 
wedge or nail is Pack. In olden times holes were bored 
and cinnet fastenings used, or wooden trenails or bolts, in 
the absence of the nails lately introduced by traders. 
These they now call Kichin-mata or bits of iron. 

Another thing necessary in household industry was the 
Tikak — a bone or shell needle used for sewing together 
the layers of Och or Ivory palm-leaf for thatch, and joining 
the leaves of the pandanus into the form of Loch or sleep- 
ing mats. They were also used in making the ancient / or 
mat-sails out of the pit or pandanus leaves, which had 
undergone a preliminary steaming in the earth-oven. The 
roll of pandanus leaf for fashioning the sleeping mats was 
called Ckal-en-pitipit, also Tanepit. For making the native 
belts of banana fibre with their garnishing of pink and white 
shell-beads, the Ponapean housewives used a fine tortoise- 
shell hackle (Merd) for combing out the rough material — 
the inner portion of the banana suckers. These belts from 
their scarcity are much esteemed by the present Ponapean, 
and he will not part with them under ten dollars apiece. 

The ready wit of the Ponapean is sufficient to supply 
his simple needs. Nature has been bountiful, and he has 
proved himself of no mean adaptive powers in dealing with 
economic plants and the various resources of the lagoon 
and reef in providing himself food, shelter and clothing. 
This will be apparent as one by one we will examine his 
household implements, his tools, his devices for procuring 
food by sea and land, his instruments of music, and his 
weapons of war. 

Axes and Knives. The Ponape words for axe and 
knife are doubly interesting historically. They indicate a 
reversion through long isolation to the primitive stone or 
shell age ; moreover, they inversely show the early influ- 
ence of an active Malay element radiating throughout the 
extensive Caroline Archipelago. Writing clearly was not 
the only art lost by these Ocean tribes during their long 


isolation. And by examining these words we can easily 
infer how these two things came about, though the dates 
of the early migrations and forays are almost hopeless in 
the lack of proper chronological data and the snapping of 
traditional links in the process of untold generations. 

Now the general term in Ponapean for instruments of 
the axe, adze or hatchet type is Chila (in Kiti they are 
called Ki y and in the Metalanim district Patkul). From 
their polished marble-like appearance some have taken 
their material for white jade-stone, but J. S. Kubary has 
clearly shown them to be pieces of the central shaft of the 
Tridacna Gigas or Giant Clam worn down into that form 
by long and careful rubbing. In our excavations in the 
central vault of Nan-Tauach, we settled the question be- 
yond dispute, for we dug up a number of these implements 
both in the rough and the smooth. 1 They are now getting 
somewhat scarce on the island, ousted from use by the 
introduction of steel adzes, American axes and tomahawks, 
through the ever increasing competition of traders. (The 
new introduction they call Chila-pangapang.) 

In early days they used to cut down trees with these 
primitive instruments, with the aid of fire. One charred 
layer chipped off, fire would be applied again — a some- 
what tedious process. At great festivals the grandees 
used to sit in state with their adzes crooked over their 
shoulders for the same reason that a European wears a 
Court sword, — de rigueur. 

The Matau was a shell-gouge used for hollowing out 
canoes, with its handle spliced along the back. In Samoa 
it is called by the very same name. A small adze was 
known as Maluak, and resembles the first, only smaller. 

The word Chila is the Motu I/a. It is one of the 
primitive Asiatic words which any minute observer cannot 
help noticing in the wide Pacific area. It appears in the 
Sanskrit Shila : Shi/ — a stone, and in the Latin — Silex — 
flint. In the language of the Garo tribesmen in India 

1 Some of these are now in the British Museum. 


Sil means iron. The root Sil, in the sense of piercing or 
cutting is, according to Isaac Taylor, of frequent occur- 
rence in the Ural-Altaic tongues. 

On the other hand the Metalanim word for " knife " 
kdpit takes us into times when early Malayan or Sulu 
pirate-voyagers landed with creeze and sword (cf. Bismarck 
Archipelago Kaput, iron ; Philippines Kampit, short sword ; 
Philippine and Sulu Kampilan, a sword) with which they 
doubtless made an exceedingly striking impression upon 
the ill-armed aborigines. At the beginning of this century, 
before the traders brought machetes and 1 8 -inch and 
2 -foot knives, the Ponapeans made their kapit of split 
bamboo. Those of shell were called Lopuk. These they 
used for slicing up fish or bread-fruit, as do the Yap 
people to this day, who call these latter Yar-ni-matsif, 
or cutting things of shell. (In Central and Western 
Carolines a shell-knife is called Char and Yar (cf 
Southern Philippines (Pangasinan) Yoro, a knife). The 
Metalanim folk use the old name Kapit for the new 
article, but the people of Kiti and Not have adopted 
the English word. Naip they call them, not cuchillo as 
one might expect. Characteristic is this preference for 
English words instead of Spanish. 

Now there are two other highly significant names of 
Malayan derivation running through these 1400 miles in 
the Sea of the Little Islands. Iron is called Mata in 
Ponape, and Marra in the Marshall Islands. Masra, 
Mossa, and Wessa in Kusaie. In the two next groups, the 
Mortlocks and Ruk, we find the form Wasai and Wasi, 
Asi. A little southward and westward we find it reappear 
in Nuku-Oro and Kap-en-Marangi as Wasei. In Yap it 
is Wasai. In German New Guinea it occurs as Bassi. 
The Malay word is Basi or Besi. Bad/a, Wadja, steel, 
of which the above are doubtless slightly differentiated 
forms. Finnic Was or As ; Caucasian Asa and Vasa, 
iron. Magyar Vas, iron. Sanskrit Asi, iron, bronze, 
copper, a sword. Latin s£s. 


N.B. — In the language of the Tinneh group in North 
America we find the words Pesh, Pash, Mask, and Bask, 
denoting knife. 

N.B. — Another very peculiar word for Iron is found 
in the Mariannes or Ladrones in the north-west, and in 
Uleai and neighbouring islands in the West and Cen- 
tral Carolines. Marianne, Lulik, LULUG, Iron. Uleai, 
Uluthi, and Satanal, Lulu, id. 

Cf. Sanskrit Lohi, Lauh and Lauk, iron, steel, and Ahom 
LlK ; Khamtis, Lek ; Lao, Lek ; Siamese, LlK. In 
Ponapean we find a root Luk, Lak, or Lek, with the 
signification of cutting. Philological experts must give us 
a satisfactory reason for the above coincidences, and tell 
us plainly how these words came into the Caroline area, 
and also, whether Ahom, Khamti, Lao, and Siamese 
borrowed the word from the Sanskrit, or whether the 
Sanskrit-speaking folk borrowed the word from their 
neighbours. And from which of these did the Caroline 
Islanders receive it? 

It stands to reason, that as the basaltic or coral lands 
of the Pacific produce no iron, steel is unobtainable. It 
may be presumed that some of the early settlers in the 
Carolines brought with them a stock of iron or steel 
weapons, or wrested them from stray pirates of a later 
day. When these rusted away or got broken, and could 
not be replaced, the traditional name would in all prob- 
ability remain, and the natives under stress of necessity, 
would fall back upon the handiest materials available to 
supply their place. Those who live on low coral islets 
would find the shaft of the Tridacna (Kima or Pacini) 
a shell very abundant on their reefs, a convenient sub- 
stitute. Those who inhabited high basaltic lands, as 
Tahiti or the Marquesas (on the first of which the 
water is always deep over her coral reefs, and the 
latter has no reefs at all) would fall back on the 
black basalt stone to fashion their cutting instruments. 
Samoa and Fiji have done the same. In those islands 


the blackstone axes were common enough before the 
advent of the curio hunter. They can still be picked 
up sometimes on the mountain-tops or on the sites of 
deserted villages. In Ponape I met with no axes of 
blackstone, the reason probably being that the shell 
was easier to work than the basalt, which does not so 
readily shape into flakes with keen cutting edges. 

The other Malay word is Parang, which in the Central 
Carolines is used both for knife and iron. In Malayan 
vocabularies it is given with the meaning of a bill-hook 
or short sword, and its survival in these remote lands 
appears to indicate a lively and deep-seated apprehension 
of " the noble white weapon " wielded by the piratical hands 
of these Vikings of the Pacific Seas. 

WEAPONS. Paz, a sling (Yap Got) Pai-uet, a sling- 
stone, the favourite missile-weapon of the Ponapeans 
before the introduction of fire-arms by the New Bedford 
and New England whalers. The sling was plaited out of 
strips of Hibiscus bark, or else out of the cinnet-fibre 
or that of the Nin-tree bark. Amongst the Ponapeans, 
there is no more favourite passage in the Old Testament 
than the famous duel of David and Goliath, the trans- 
lation of which is particularly spirited and happy in the 
missionary vernacular. The incidents of the encounter 
are peculiarly in accord with native fashion in every way, 
and the name David (Tepif) is very common amongst the 
Protestant folk on the south-west coast. 

The bow is called Kachik-en-katiu, literally, " make- 
shoot-of-Katiu-wood " ; the arrow Katiu-en-kachik, a 
weapon not much in favour on the Polynesian and 
Micronesian area. It is more of a Melanesian weapon. 
In the Gilberts it is called Bana, in the Marshall Islands 
Li-ban, i.e. the Ban or bow of a woman, regarded as a 
woman's or child's weapon. In Polynesia known as Fana, 
and in the Melanesian area as Vana, Van, Bana, and 
Fan. The Malayan form is Panah (in Sanskrit, Ban 
or Van is an arrow, and Panach is a bow-string). It may 



be worth mentioning that in ancient Hawaii the bow was 
used by lads, old men, and women for the noble sport of 
shooting at rats — a sad come-down for the weapon which 
won Merry England such high renown. The Ponapeans 
say the bow was used by the Chokalai or dwarf aborigines. 
The bow was made of Katiu or Ixora wood, the bow- 
string of the bark of the Hibiscus, the arrows of Hibiscus 
wood, or slips of Alek or reed-grass, tipped with the spine 
of the sting-ray. Nowadays it is entirely out of use. 

The CLUB was occasionally used. It was known as 
Lep-en-tuka or Chup-en-tuka ; by the Mortlock Islanders 
as Sop-en-ura. Also called in Ponape Chup-en-pok. The 
word Chup is evidently the Indian Chob, which denotes 
the same weapon amongst the Hindu peasantry. Accord- 
ing to Nanchau of Mutok (Tenedos) stone clubs called 
Permachapang were used. Of these I found no traces 
either at Chapen-takai or Nan-Matal, neither did I see 
during my stay on the island any of the elaborately 
carved war-clubs or maces noted in the Marquesas, Fiji, 
Samoan and Tongan Groups. 

Spears were the favourite weapon in hand to hand 
conflict. They were called Katiu from a species of Ixora 
of that name. Its straight-growing stems were used by 
the natives for fashioning their spears and javelins. The 
Ak or Mangrove also was much used for making spear- 
shafts. They were pointed with the sting of the Ray 
(Likant-en-kap). In the Mortlocks the spear is known as 
Uak or Silak, in Ruk Anek, Pulawat Lit, in the Central 
Carolines as Tillak, Tallak, Dilok and Thilak. In the 
Marshalls Mori, Marre or Marri. In the Philippines it 
appears in the Tagala Tulag or Tolak — a war-spear (the 
Favorlang of Formosa has Roddok and Biloagh, a spear, 
Silek, a knife). In Metalanim a wooden dagger is called 
Tillako, in Yap Muruguil. 

The most formidable of all the Caroline spears were 
those of Yap fashioned out of the wood of the Bit or 
Areca palm, and manufactured chiefly in the district of 


Madolai. They were often nearly twelve feet in length, 
pronged and barbed on either side in the cruellest fashion 
so as to inflict a most terrible wound. The prowess of 
the men of Yap with this redoubtable weapon earned for 
them a very extensive dominion in the Central Carolines, 
and indeed up to Ponape, which some of their more 
distant forays seem actually to have reached. 

Musical Instruments and Dances. Like all 
islanders they are very fond of music. Any up-to-date 
trading skipper with a cargo of banjos and accordions 
would sell them off in double-quick time. The Chaui 
(Fijian Davui) or shell-trumpet — the Pu of the South 
Polynesians, is used as a signal of war or assembly like 
the Atabal of the ancient Mexicans. Close by the 
pointed end of the shell a circular hole is bored. The 
sound travels a long way up hill and down valley, and 
I firmly believe that between village and village is a 
regular code of signal-calls almost as effective as our 
telephone. Some of these, " CHAUI," are of very large 
size and are often picked up amongst the foundations 
of old houses. 

The native flute is called Chup-en-ro or Chup-en-parri. 
It is made of a piece of Ro or reed-grass or of parri or 
bamboo. It is not quite a foot in length — closed at one 
end by a stopper of leaves and pierced with six holes up 
to the mouthpiece. It is not a nose-flute like the Tosarri 
of Formosa or the Fango-fango of Samoa, or that of the 
Sakais of the Malay Peninsula. 

The native drum is called Aip — the old name Pen or 
Pau (the Pahu of Tahiti). One I saw in Paliker, now in 
the British Museum, is about five feet in height and made 
of the wood of the Tupuk. It is shaped exactly like a 
huge erect dice-box like the drums of the Jekri in West 
Africa, Niger territory. It was covered with the skin of 
the Sting-Ray and beaten with a stick of Hibiscus wood 
on occasions of festival. The Spanish chronicler Pereiro 
describes a smaller sort which he saw in Not district which 


he calls Piki-piki, evidently from mistaking the meaning 
and application of the word Pikir which is a verb meaning 
to beat a drum — not, I think, denoting the drum itself. 
This one, he says, was about three feet high and covered 
with fish-bladders which they collect fresh on the day of the 
festival — he describes it as adorned with square markings 
and painted with various colours, especially red and black. 
When the feast is over they take away the skins and get 
others, for they are easily burst and need constant renewal. 
It may be observed that the Ponapeans are very fond of 
the accordion and of the modern Jews' harp which they 
call Kachang y i.e. make sound. It seems that they had a 
sort of Jews' harp of their own like the Samoan Utete, but 
the modern ones have ousted the ancient article. 

DANCES. There are two kinds — one peculiar to the 
men called Kalek, the Purek of the Mortlock Islanders, 
the Sorosoro or Talisa of Kusaie, and the Dalisia of 
South-East Formosa, on the Favorlang River — danced 
standing ; and another of men and women together, like 
the Siva of the Samoans performed sitting {Uen or Wen) 
with graceful wavings of hand, wrist and arm. The 
elaborate dancing-masks of the Solomon Islands and 
New Hebrideans are not found here. The dancers are 
always in Kapot — holiday dress, anointed with fish or 
coconut-oil — the men in bright yellow Kol or kilts, their 
heads garlanded with flowers or chaplets of green fern, 
their necks and arms copiously hung with festoons of 
fresh coconut leaflets and on the fingers of each hand 
a sort of ring with bunches of Nok or ribs of coconut 
leaflets bristling out. These, in shaking, produce a sort 
of harmonious rustling. Some of the choruses have a 
fine deep sonorous chime like those of the Marquesan 
Islanders. Many of the dances are anything but decorous 
in character. It is said that a number of the words used 
in the chants both in Yap and Ponape are different 
altogether from the spoken language. Certainly some 
specimens of Ponapean songs written down by Kaneke 


and Chaulik on Paniau were hopelessly unintelligible 
to me although I could both read and converse in 
the vernacular Ponapean with considerable ease and 
fluency. It would seem that many Sagas of the acts 
of legendary heroes would have come in from the Marshall 
Islands and from Yap, and thus would be of great his- 
torical interest in tracing ancient connections and the 
gradual or accidental fusions of different Micronesian 
races. It is here that the Phonograph or Graphophone 
as well as the Camera comes to the aid of the ethnologist. 
Once get the exact sounds recorded on the wax cylinder, 
and the task of the philologist becomes tenfold easier. 
Melakaka is the word for the song or dramatical com- 
position of a priest or chief, and is therefore very happily 
adopted by the missionaries to denote the Psalms of 
David and the Song of Solomon. {Cf. the Hawaiian 
word Mele — a song, and the Pelew word Moloik — dancing 
and singing.) 

During the burial of any person of note was intoned a 
funeral dirge, wake or Threnody called Tarak. It is said 
to be very solemn, weird and impressive. 

Ponapean houses are, as a rule, well and solidly con- 
structed upon platforms four or five feet in height, built 
up of broken pieces of basalt and sometimes limestone 
blocks. The walls composed of shutters {Tet or Tat) 
made of bundles of reed-grass or cane about the thickness 
of one's little finger, laid side by side with the greatest 
neatness and regularity, and bound together in rows with 
the ever-useful cinnet-fibre. The thatch is composed of 
tightly packed bundles of leaf of the Oc/i, the vegetable 
Ivory or Sago Palm called by the Spanish Palma de 
marfil. The doors (Uanini) are often very narrow, and it 
is quite a trouble to squeeze oneself in. The floor within 
is covered with a planking of boards, or else with numer- 
ous flat shutters of reed-grass, which are also called Tat 
or Tet. (Compare Hindustani Tatti — a shutter of reed 
or cane of a similar design.) The pillars that bear up the 


house are made of Katar or tree-fern, of bread-fruit wood, 
or that of one of the useful timber trees with which the 
island abound. The rafters are of the sturdy Ak or 
mangrove branches (Polynesian Oka). The height of the 
central roof-tree varies from fifteen to twenty feet in houses 
of moderate size. 

The cook-house, called Parra or Par (Polynesian Fare, 
Fale, a house ; in Ponapean there is no F, P takes its 
place), was an unpretentious building of mangrove stakes 
and thatch, situated a little to the rear of the premises. 

The Nach or Council Lodge was a lofty, wide, long and 
spacious building with a raised platform, at the end of 
which there was often a room for the sleeping place of the 
Chief and his family, railed off by shutters of cane some- 
times called Pel or Ueip ; the partition is called Mech-en- 
tet. On this raised platform, about six feet in height 
{Lempantam or Leppantani), ascended by a rude ladder 
{Kantake), sat the chiefs and distinguished men. Along 
both sides within the Lodge ran a wooden terrace or plat- 
form, with reed-grass or cane flooring, where the women 
and children and those of lower estate sat. In the open 
space below were several huge flat slightly concave basalt 
stones, upon which the Chakau, Choko, or Kava root was 
pounded. From the presence of these flat basalt stones 
the lodges are sometimes called Im-en-takai or Houses of 
the Takai or Stones. Very often a boathouse on the 
edge of a creek or by the seashore is used as a Nach, as 
in the case of the Horau-Nanui of Nuku-Oro. 

The Nach is open at the lower end. Above the en- 
trance some slight protection against the wind and rain is 
afforded by the Lolo or cross-thatching that can be easily 
increased in case of bad weather. I may add that I saw 
no carved posts in these houses, as I afterwards remarked 
in Yap. It seems strange the omission here of a custom 
so universal in the Polynesian and Melanesian area. 



ON May 2nd, 1896, just after the departure of the 
mail steamer for Manilla, there arrived in Ascen- 
sion Bay a little trading-schooner, the Tulengkun, belong- 
ing to Captain M., an American subject, who offered me 
a passage by her to Kusaie, his headquarters. Taking 
advantage of the opportunity of her return trip, arrange- 
ments were speedily concluded, and on a miserable 
Saturday afternoon we ran from the Langar anchorage 
in a raw chilly drizzle, which later on increased into a 
regular downpour. The wind comes off shore in occasional 
puffs, and the vessel rolls considerably on the long heavy 
swell, clearing the harbour mouth just before sunset. 
However, an hour or two after midnight a steady breeze 
comes along, and daybreak finds us plunging through 
white-crested seas with the great cliff of Chokach and the 
cloud-capped peak of Kupuricha fast sinking astern. A 
dull and wearisome Sunday drags along. The first stage 
of our journey is only one hundred miles, and we sight 
the blurred outline of Mokil on Monday at sunset, just 
before a huge inky curtain of cloud closes down, rudely 
blotting it out and bringing a hissing white squall. Early 
next morning the sky was clear and bright, and we were 
lying close up to the island, and by-and-bye we ran in- 

Mokil, otherwise called Duperrey from the French 
navigator of that name, is properly a group of three low 
islands — Urak, Manton and Kalap — lying close together 

1 A portion of the narrative below appeared in the Hong Kong Telegraph 
early in the following year. 



in a lagoon of no great extent. Manton is rounded in 
outline like a boomerang or horse-shoe ; Urak and Kalap 
are longer in stretch, and crescent-shaped. Kalap and 
Manton are inhabited, the former containing the main 
settlement surrounded with yam and taro patches, and 
embowered in palms and hibiscus (Pa), screw-pine and 
Barringtonia. Urak is one wild palm-grove, full of pigs 
and wild fowl, and is often visited from the main settle- 
ment. A pretty feature hereabouts at half-tide are the 
numerous primrose, mauve and sulphur-tinted bits of coral 
studding the bottom, with bright yellow fishes, six or eight 
inches long, darting in and out of these submarine rock- 
eries, like flashes of living gold. The natives call them 
Tapurapur. Gorgeous star-fish of a bright Prussian blue 
{Sukunap) [called On Kusaie, Si-keniaf\ lie around. With 
the Ponapeans the creature is connected with the Rain 
God, and lifting it out of the water is said to be invariably 
followed by heavy showers of rain. Between Manton and 
Urak a narrow boat-passage leads up to Kalap beach, 
across a strip of flat reef almost dry at low tides, studded 
with numerous masses of honeycombed limestone rock. 
Close here are two large blocks. Tradition says the Ani 
or demi-gods, in the form of a pair of frigate-birds, brought 
them from the eastward. These were the mythical ancestors 
of the Mokil islanders. 

The nearest of the Ralik chain is only about one 
hundred and fifty miles from Mokil. The Mokil folk, 
who number some two hundred, probably have a strong 
Marshall Island admixture like their Pingelap neighbours. 
Many of their words are akin to those in Ralik, and some 
again are an obsolete form of Ponapean, but nowadays 
the modern Ponapean is everywhere spoken, introduced 
by the American missionaries and native teachers. The 
natives are Christianised ; coconut toddy is tabooed, and 
all use of intoxicating liquors and tobacco strictly for- 
bidden. They make capital sailors, for which calling a 
certain cheery hardihood peculiarly fits them, but on land, 


like all Pacific islanders, their zeal is occasionally dashed 
by fits of laziness. A steady aversion to settled labour 
ashore has left many a promising contract half completed. 
It is so with all the brown races — it is otherwise with the 
black or yellow — but this roving nature, impatient of con- 
trol, engendered by numberless predatory raids, and long 
sea-rovings in the olden days, is the true heritage of the 
Malayan. These bold navigators, as any up-to-date 
philological chart will show, swept out wave upon wave 
through Gilolo Straits, conquering and blending in various 
proportions with the agricultural black races which had 
preceded them. This is clearly proved by the frequent 
occurrence of Malay and Sanskritoid root-words along the 
north coast of New Guinea and down to Port Moresby, 
where the Motu dialect is spoken. Let the doubting 
reader only glance at the long list of Caroline root-words 
in the Comparative Table soon to be published by the 
Polynesian Society of New Zealand, and then doubt any 
more if he can. 

It is to the black races therefore that we are to look 
for supply of plantation labour, and to the brown people 
for sailors. Each will then follow his ancestral bent to 
the great saving of time and temper of the long-suffering 
trader, and of his colleague, that irascible and leather- 
lunged potentate, the trading skipper. 

The King, or Icho of Mokil, lives on Kalap, and is a 
bland old gentleman, but, like nearly all converted 
natives, has a keen eye for business. The chief trader 
on the island is John Higgins, a capital boat-builder and 
carpenter. He was the son of a Massachusetts man, 
afterwards murdered upon Pingelap by a Gilbert islander 
from Arorai. He leads as quiet and industrious a life as 
any Norfolk or Pitcairn island settler, and bids fair to 
end his days as a patriarch of the old Pacific school. 

One would fancy that the traders in these parts must 
needs put up with a woeful number of bad debts, the 
competition in trade moving in the old vicious circle. 


Still the shiftless credit system goes on, the native now 
and again paying a trifle on account, after alternate bully- 
ing and cajolery. Very often the native reserves to him- 
self the right of repudiating his debts altogether, and when 
he does receive a little money, of going straight across to 
the rival store, and paying ready cash for goods to the 
frenzied excitement of his creditors. On the other hand, 
when the trader gets a little ahead of the native, as some- 
times happens between seller and buyer in the best 
regulated communities, the voice of the Spanish law 
thunders forth : " How dare you rob the poor innocent 
native ? " ignoring the fact that the noble savage is every 
bit as versed in deception and trickery as his white 
brother, whom if he fails to strike at the first venture, he 
will surely bring down at the second, place, time and 
opportunity, and lack of honest interpreters being all in 
his favour. Who else could say to his white creditor : 
"If you will not lend me money how can I ever pay ? " 

There is no lack of fowls and ducks on Kalap, but only 
a few little pigs are allowed here, for fear of the ravages the 
big ones would surely commit amongst the taro and banana 
patches. There is no supply of running water, but there 
is a heavy annual rainfall, which the natives make the 
most of by digging numerous shallow pits and wells 
(Kallip). A species of jack-fruit (Mai-mat) is cultivated. 
When mature, the wood develops a firm reddish grain, 
and is much prized by local carpenters for housebuilding. 
The palm-groves yield an abundant supply of green drink- 
ing nuts, and much copra is made from the kernels of the 
older ones called Pen (cf. Samoan Penu, Gilbert Islands 
Ben). The lagoon teems with fine fish, the most esteemed 
of which are a species of mullet, the bonito and the flying 
fish. The Mokil canoes are built of seasoned bread-fruit 
wood, fitted with a long, solid, and heavy outrigger, curv- 
ing boldly upwards bow and stern, recalling somewhat the 
Yap canoes, without, however, the curious fish-tail orna- 
mentation on the figure-heads. Their Yi or sails, like the 


old-fashioned ones of Ponape, are wide and triangular, 
formed of parallel rows of pandanus leaves neatly sewn 
together. The usual littoral shrubs common on low coral 
islands flourish here, amongst them two medicinal in 
quality, the Ramak and Sisin (known in Ponape as the 
Inot and Titin). Giant screw-pines (P. edulis), with their 
quaint leaf whorls, their huge orange-red fruit like ex- 
aggerated pine apples, and long sword-shaped, prickly- 
edged leaves, fringe the shore, and the air is filled with 
the subtle perfume of the delicate white blossoms of the 
tree-gardenia {Pur). 

After a stroll in the woods, a bathe in one of the water 
holes, and a hearty meal of fried flying fish and taro, it is 
time to leave. Towards evening, with a good load of 
copra, and some of the Urak porkers and seven or eight 
native passengers on board, we set sail for Pingelap, which 
lies some sixty miles away to the southward. Next day 
nothing but dismal and dirty weather and heavy seas. A 
powerful odour of copra permeates the ship from stem to 
stern, which must be extremely delicious to those who are 
accustomed to it. Everything is hot, damp, muggy, and 
uncomfortable. Hosts of cockroaches are on the war-path 
below, and up above there is a dank drizzle, hardly a 
breath of wind stirring, and the great cradle of the deep 
is rocking us to and fro in something more than a 
motherly fashion. So the long dreary afternoon wears 
itself slowly away. 

Late in the evening of Thursday, May 7th, after a 
steady struggle with a strong north-west current, which 
future navigators in these waters should allow for, we 
catch a glimpse of the lights of the Pingelap canoe-parties 
fishing out on the reef. Next morning early we are 
anchored near the beach, and numerous folk have already 
boarded us, clamouring for an extended credit system, and 
excited like very children at the prospect of fingering and 
handling, and perhaps even purchasing, the much-coveted 
foreign goods. Voices, a regular Babel, are raised, some 


in solemn argument and serious questioning, some rippling 
into light jests, chaff and repartee, some melting into those 
coaxing, pleading and wheedling accents wherewith the 
native so often reaches the soft spot in the white trader's 
heart. However, business is somehow concluded at last. 
Some natives make small payments, some pay liberally in 
promises and compliments which sometimes pass current 
in Micronesia as elsewhere, whilst some again are refused 
credit altogether, and away they troop into their canoes and 
go ashore evidently in high feather. After a while I went 
ashore in the ship's boat, pencil and note-book in hand, as 
beseems a seeker after strange things, arousing the curiosity 
of the worthy folk on the beach, who for naive and rustic 
stolidity and ludicrous ignorance are the very Boeotians of 
the Pacific. The following rough notes were taken. The 
group consists, like Mokil, of three low coral islands lying 
close together, named respectively Pingelap, Taka, and 
Chikuru styled on the charts Tugulu. The population a 
little over 1000 ; pretty dense considering the meagre 
area, but compare with this the island of Tapitouea in the 
Gilbert Group which is one huge village. The natives of 
Pingelap form a sort of ethnic link between the Ponape 
and Mokil type. Their language is a harsh and antiquated 
dialect of Ponapean with a sprinkle of Marshall Island 
words. As in Mokil, however, the new missionary Pona- 
pean, introduced in the lesson books and New Testament 
translations and songs, is fast ousting the old language, and 
this is a living instance of the instability of Pacific Island 
tongues. So fast one stratum of population overlaps another 
— " Velut unda supervenit undam." Most of the inhabitants 
here live on the main central island, which is neatly laid 
out in shady walks and avenues, skirting trim and well-kept 
plantations of bananas and various sorts of taro. Plenty 
of arrowroot is found in the bush. The beach is thickly 
lined by rows of small boathouses backed by quite an 
imposing array of native huts. I saw numbers of canoes 
drawn up on the beach, running up very high at bow and 


stern, and still more were scattered in the offing, for the 
Pingelap folk are sturdy and energetic fishermen. The 
approach was picturesque, the grey coral reef rising up like 
a great sea-wall out of the deep blue water. The bottom 
is seamed with profound cracks and fissures, the lurking 
places of great fishes and giant Crustacea and squid. 
Orange and scarlet patches of coral light up the wavy 
masses of oarweed, tangle and sea-fan, and many a quaint 
and gorgeous zoophyte spreads its delicate tentacles in the 
current in odd nooks and corners. Numerous grey and 
white sea-birds skim the surface in middle distance, follow- 
ing the shoals of fish " Un en mom " in their course, and 
now and then a white or blue heron wings his way heavily 
overhead. (The former they call Kara, the latter Nan- 
kilap.) The coconut groves are very productive, and in 
profusion are found two varieties of jack-fruit (" Mai-pa " 
and " Mai-si ") one with slightly, the other deeply, serrated 
leaves. The sea swarms with fish, and there are plenty of 
pigs and fowls. The numbers of bright healthy young 
children playing about the landing-place gave a very 
pleasant and encouraging testimony of the vigour and 
vitality of the race — a quality now, alas ! growing rarer 
and rarer amongst South Sea island peoples. Quantities 
of fishing nets were seen hanging up on every side. From 
the frequent sheds and cooking-houses on the waterside 
were rising grateful aromas of baked pigs and roasting 
fish. In a trice we were conducted to a cool shady spot, 
mats were spread out, green coconuts husked, and a savoury 
repast was soon smoking before us. Later on we visit 
Tomas, the native teacher, and duly admire the pretty little 
native church and schoolhouse with its palm-thatch and 
burnt coral walls. Tomas' sleek and contented appearance 
irresistibly recalls the merry old Scottish distich : — 

" O the monks of Melrose made gude kail 
On Fridays when they fasted 
And wanted neither beef nor ale 
As long as their neighbour's lasted." 


Heaps of coconuts and baskets of cooked food were 
lying on the ground outside — forming the Mairong or 
church offering to which every good member of the con- 
gregation is expected to contribute. Then I visited the 
alleys and neatly paved pathways of Michor, the main 
settlement, bordered by gardens and taro patches on every 
side. Hereabouts are some groves of bread-fruit carefully 
cultivated, not only for the fruit, but for its timber, which, 
when it gets old and seasoned, has a fine reddish-brown 
tint. They use it for boat building and as posts and 
rafters for their houses. They also split it fine to make 
their lattice or shutters, as the reed-grass, common enough 
in Kusaie, Ponape and the Mortlocks is not found here. 
The name they give these shutters in this part of the 
Carolines is tat or tet. Compare the Hindustani tat or 
tatti, a term widely used, as all Anglo-Indians well know, 
for delicately woven shutters of cane which keep out the 
mid-day dust and heat. 

When we got on board a host of natives followed us, 
headed by the Icho or King with his Queen and inter- 
preter, and plenty of hats i^Sorap) and mats {Rop) for sale 
— both cunningly woven of the leaf of the Pandanus in 
which manufacture they are very skilful. His Majesty 
after begging in a naive fashion for a Turkey-red shirt, 
refused the offer of a cigar as a bad example to the church 
members. Quoth his majesty to me : " You my friend. 
You see Pikitoria (Victoria sic). He one big chief — Pictoria 
he talk. You speak Pingelap man he good." This same 
worthy chief and his colleague of Mokil some little while 
ago when guests on board the gunboat Quiros, proved a 
source of great amusement to their Spanish hosts by their 
very free and unconventional table manners, helping them- 
selves to double handfuls of food from the nearest dishes, 
in utter disregard of knives and forks, to the dismay of the 
poor steward who gazed on them with eyes wide open 
with horror. When the King of Pingelap saw and smelt 
a large dish of curry, his eyes glistened. When it came 


within reach he eagerly scooped up a double handful and 
without more ado supped it up. 

Reluctantly taking leave of our new Arcadian friends, 
we hoisted sail the same evening and left our anchorage 
on our 140 miles' sail down to Kusaie. Continual calms 
and light baffling winds checked our way, and several 
heavy rain squalls burst over us. Towards sundown on 
Saturday the 9th, after a spell of miserable weather, the 
clouds lifted a little and disclosed the sharp and angular 
outline of Kusaie standing out clearly defined under a 
pall of inky blackness, the tops of the mountains hidden 
in bank upon bank of cloud-haze and smoky wreaths 
of teeming vapour. Anon the curtain descends anew, a 
fresh violent squall comes down, and we fly scudding over 
the heaving seas, rolling and pitching, like a Deal or 
Sandgate lugger in the chops of the English Channel. 

I had nearly forgotten to remark that the Pingelap 
men though dull and heavy in temperament, are exceed- 
ingly nervous withal — a rare thing amongst Caroline 
Islanders. A trifling operation such as the removal of 
a splinter will make a strong able-bodied man faint. The 
same is related of the people of Nuku-Oro and Kap-in- 
Mailang further south. They are said to be easily subject 
to hypnotic suggestion, a fact which recalls the peculiar 
disorder called Lata mentioned by Swettenham as com- 
mon in the Malay Peninsula, and called Malimali in the 
Philippines. Pingelap used to be a favourite recruiting 
place with whaling captains plying northward, who found 
the men docile and hardworking, and better able than 
many other islanders to stand the cold of the Arctic 

Late at night we pass the twinkling lights of the 
missionary settlement of Mout, high up on the hill- 
slopes, flashing out a greeting as it were through the dense 
gloom. In the early morning, May 10th, we are off 
Coquille, and make a long tack to double the North-East 
Point. On rounding the promontory, the island of Lele 


with its spacious harbour of Chabrol on the far side, comes 
in sight. Hereabouts a powerful current runs, setting to 
the eastward, which any future navigators will do well 
to remember, giving the point a pretty wide berth to 
avoid stranding amongst the breakers on a dangerous 
coast. The main island reminds one somewhat of Raro- 
tonga, with the bizarre features a little softened down. 
The altitude of Fulaet, the highest peak, is about the same, 
some 2300 feet. In the middle are two needle-shaped 
peaks set close together. A belt of rich low land 
surrounds verdant hill-slopes thickly clothed with forest 
up to the summit. Here and there one spies scattered 
native houses lying back amongst groves of pandanus 
and palm. We have passed lonely little Star Harbour, 
and are skirting the coast-line dotted with the straggling 
huts of Puia, the Gilbert Islanders' settlement. And so 
we sailed along, each foreland opening up fresh beauties 
in the landscape. From off the entrance to Chabrol or 
Lele Harbour the main island looks almost divided in 
two by the deep inlet. Close at hand stretches a flat- 
topped mountain, like that of Vatu Vara in the Fijis, 
resembling in shape a fashionable tall silk hat with a 
broad low brim running round it. Side on to us on the 
right is the outer edge of Lele. Beyond the mainland 
looms up, rising into several peaks and ranges, opening 
out into rich vistas of valley and emerald woodland, with 
snow-white birds circling and wheeling in the far tree-tops. 
The swell is heavy, and there falls a spell of light variable 
breezes. About two hundred yards off under our lee 
beam, heavy rollers are dashing upon the reef, sending 
up jets and clouds and sheets of finest spray that fill the 
middle distance with a misty haze. Slowly we approach 
the land, the passage at its narrowest point being only 
about three-quarters of a cable broad, hardly giving fair 
room to tack in should a sudden white squall sweep down 
from the mountain gorges above. Just as we entered the 
passage a chicken flew overboard and was left behind 


rising and falling on the swell astern. By order of the 
captain the boat was lowered, however, and the hapless 
fowl rescued from one liquid grave, only to appear a little 
later in another — to wit, a savoury soup. 

This same harbour of Lele in days past was a great 
rendezvous for the New Bedford and New England 
whaleships. There the famous " Bully " Hayes, the 
modern Buccaneer, played fine pranks after losing his 
beautiful vessel on the reefs, half frightening the lives 
out of the peaceful Kusaians by landing a number of 
fierce and warlike Ocean and Gilbert Islanders, who 
brewed huge quantities of coconut-toddy, and set the 
whole place in a ferment with their carousals and mad 
orgies. Night after night they kept it up, alternately 
drinking and fighting. Murdered men's bodies were 
picked up on the beach every morning, and the poor 
natives of Lele fled in terror of their lives. Hayes at 
last brought the crazy mutineers back to their senses 
and meditated settling on the island, when, greatly to 
the American missionaries' relief, a barque came in from 
Honolulu with the intelligence that a British man-of-war 
was coming up fast in search of that very dreadful sinner 
and reprobate, the aforesaid Hayes. But what became of 
the redoubtable captain of many resources is matter for 
another and a longer yarn. We are now close up to the 
settlement with the King's new lumber and shingle house 
standing forward prominently amongst many humbler 
abodes, under the shade of a noble Callophyllum tree. 
Right in front of us lies Captain M.'s dwelling, his store- 
house and copra shed flanked by white-walled outhouses. 
Seaward extends the wharf built up sturdily of blocks and 
lumps of coral and basalt fragments, with a topping of 
black and white pebbles and sea-shells. There we anchored 
about ten o'clock. 

Numbers of natives are passing and repassing on the 
road beyond, for it is Sunday and church time is nigh, and 
defaulters rnn the risk of censure. Everybody seemed 


greatly interested in our arrival, and many thronged the 
landing-place to welcome us on shore. The men were 
neatly dressed in European garb, the women in loose 
graceful gowns. Most of them wore flowers in their hair, 
and for head-gear broad low hats of Pandanus-leaf trim- 
med with tasteful ribbons of banana fibre, in tinting which 
delicate fibre they excel. Pink, white and red roses, 
crimson hibiscus and the amber and purple tassels of 
the Barringtonia flower, form so many bright touches in 
a pretty picture of rich and subdued tones of colour 
happily blended. Thus we landed on the shore of 
Kusaie. How befel the King's hospitality, the visit to 
the good missionaries at Mout, and the exploration of 
the ruins, must be told in the next chapter. 



SOON after landing on Lele we went up to see the 
King or " Tokosa-Teleusar," who speaks very good 
English which he learned from the American whalers he 
made many long voyages with in his youth, even visiting 
the town of Grimsby. 

On July 26th, 1890, Mr J. C. Dewar, in his yacht the 
Nyanza, visited Lele, and was favourably impressed with 
the island. 

The King bade us heartily welcome, and introduced us 
to his wife and household, who seemed thoroughly pleasant 
people, and made one feel quite at home from the very 
first. The afternoon passed rapidly away in conversation, 
the King apparently taking a lively interest in the pro- 
posed exploration of the ruins on his island, and promising, 
without any hesitation, his hearty aid and co-operation — 
a different character from the sour old fanatic of Metalanim. 
He placed his house immediately at my disposal, and 
promptly sent his dependants to search the larder, and 
levy hasty contributions amongst the villagers in case any- 
thing be lacking. A dismal cackling presently announces 
the demise of sundry chickens. Whilst these preparations 
were going forward we paid a visit to Li-kiak-sa, the aged 
native teacher of the district, a keen, alert, wiry old man, 
with an indefinable air of mingled wisdom, shrewdness and 
benevolence, of whom we shall hear more anon. He owns 
a small islet planted thickly with sweet potatoes, of which 
he is a keen cultivator and consumer. He did not appear 
to deserve the harsh criticisms passed upon him in Louis 
Beck's logbook and in Mr Dewar's account of his cruise — 


both of whom style him a cheating, canting and self- 
righteous rascal. Similar unfavourable first impressions 
are common enough in tales of travel, which a more ex- 
tended experience of a stay, one likes to fancy, would 
dispel in good time, or at least qualify. Then we visited 
the other end of the village to call upon Kevas, the in- 
telligent school-teacher, named after Caiaphas, the High 
Priest, of evil fame. We persuaded him and Li-kiak-sa 
to share our evening meal, and ere long roast fowl, fried 
fish, eggs, turtle, and taro were disappearing with fearful 
rapidity. Our dessert consisted of a mixture of taro, yam, 
coconut cream and ripe bananas mashed up together 
into a pudding, and steamed in leaves underground. The 
two holy men refused wine and beer, contenting themselves 
with drinking huge mugs of scalding black tea, sweetened 
with table-spoonfuls of brown sugar. Soon after the meal 
was ended Li-kiak-sa left, and Kevas remained behind. 
Kevas had compiled a small English-Kusaian list of words 
which he undertook to go through with me on the morrow, 
with some school-books and a native New Testament in 
the vernacular. Finally, for a moderate remuneration, he 
agreed to give me two long lessons in the language every 
day, the evening lesson lasting regularly from seven to 
eleven. That night and the whole of the next day we 
worked steadily, as an uninterrupted downpour of rain for- 
bade any outdoor excursions. The following extract from 
my diary shows the occasional thorns in the explorer's path. 
" Monday, May 1 1 th. — Touch of low fever contracted 
in the Ponape marshes. Symptoms — headache, dizzi- 
ness, loss of appetite and bearing down pains in the back, 
with general disinclination for exertion Weather miser- 
able, no chance of going outdoors." 

My instructor turned up punctually to time, and by and 
by most of the principal words in use are carefully noted 
down; then a little light began to break in upon this 
peculiar dialect. The grammatical system and the num- 
erals and many of the rootwords I soon saw resembled 


the Ponapean. There were many Marshall Island words 
also. The strong original consonant and vowel sounds 
alike are curiously twisted in pronunciation by the 
Kusaians. But for a detailed treatment I must refer to 
my comparative table which the Polynesian Society of 
New Zealand are now publishing. 

Mr Dewar's description of Kusaie has a humour of its 
own. " The island of Kusaie is a great Protestant mis- 
sionary stronghold, and the people appear to be painfully 
good. They none of them dared to drink or smoke, and 
when I offered the local trader a newspaper, he piously 
replied that he never read anything but the Bible. Not- 
withstanding all these fine professions, the missionaries 
have not succeeded in inducing the King to stop his grog 
and tobacco, if he can get a chance of enjoying himself in 
this manner in secret." It describes Captain M. to a hair, 
and the good King Teleusar to the very life. 

Curiously enough, there seems a paucity of local tradi- 
tions. The name of the island itself seems to be pretty 
well known from one end of the Carolines to the other. 
The Ponapeans call it Koto, and declare the Ivory Palm 
and the Kava plant were introduced on their island by 
Kusaian visitors. The Mortlock and Ruk islanders, more 
in the centre of the great archipelago, call it Kosiu and 
Kotiu respectively, whilst in Yap, the farthest west of all 
the Carolines, they denominate it Kuthiu or Kuziu} The 
resemblance to the great southern island of Japan, Kiu-siu, 
is too remarkable to pass idly over. The name of Kusaie 
is generally applied to the mainland across the bay, other- 
wise called Ualan. The little island of Lela or Lele (from 
a word meaning " permission ") was no doubt settled by a 
band of Japanese, either from a wrecked junk, or equally 
likely from one of the early trading vessels, which, accord- 
ing to a Japanese merchant, used in ancient times to make 
long voyages to the south and east, before the Emperor 

1 The name probably reappears far to the S.E. as 'Atiu in the Cook or 
Harvey group. Cf. also Maori Kotiu the N.W. wind. 


To-Kogunsama interdicted distant trading expeditions 
about the year 1640. Nagasaki, according to these tra- 
ditions, used to be the great emporium of trade with the 
Marai-jin or Malays a thousand years ago. The Caroline 
archipelago and the isles of the Pacific were known under 
the name of Nan-Yo. As to the possibility of chance 
additions to the population by shipwreck, witness the case 
of the drifting ashore of a Japanese junk in 1885 on 
Uchai in the north of the Marshall group, resulting in the 
massacre of a portion of the crew and the plundering of 
the vessel. The natives of Lele themselves attribute 
the building of the great Cyclopean walls (in Kusaian 
Pot Fa/at), enclosures and canals that thickly stud their 
island, to a dominant foreign race who arrived in vessels 
(Wak-palang) from the north-west, and who raised these 
forts as defences against their neighbours on the mainland, 
whom they put to tribute, imposing upon them, when 
visiting Lele as vassals of the Tokosa, the humiliation of 
doing obeisance by crouching down low and of never rais- 
ing their voices above a whisper in addressing him. It 
may here be observed that the Ponapeans have a tradition 
that Icho-Kalakal, who commanded the great invasion 
from the South, called at Kusaie and the Ant Islands on 
his way up from Panamai. The stones, massive blocks 
and shafts of prismatic basalt, were brought, the natives 
say, from South Harbour on rafts and floats. The ruins 
on Lele are not so elaborately constructed as those of 
Metalanim, but they have a rude and massive grandeur 
of their own. Like the Ponapeans, these people for work- 
ing wood (not stone) used axes and adzes {tola) of excel- 
lent make, laboriously ground and polished down from the 
great central piece of the Tridacna-gigas or great Kima- 
Cockle shell. The specimens received from Li-kiak-sa 
are exceedingly white, and smooth as polished marble, with 
fine cutting edges. In length they measure from six to nine 
or ten inches, by two or two and a half inches in breadth. 
Many of the words in Kusian resemble Malay-Polynesian 


words far to the westward, and there is also a slight Mela- 
nesian admixture. There are also some Marshall Island 
words, Lo the Hibiscus, Iter the Callophyllum, Nukunuk 
clothes. They use long delicate tapering paddles of Pana 
or Thespesia wood, like those of the Sonsorol islanders. 
They make fairly good sailors, and appear to be of a 
peaceful, obedient and easy-going nature. Their chief 
manufactures are pandanus-leaf hats, which they plait with 
as much skill as the Pingelap natives. From the same in- 
valuable fabric they make ornamental baskets of pretty 
design, and light delicate sleeping mats of fine texture 
(Kiaka). But the most interesting industry of all is their 
weaving of fine belts and ribbons, called Tol, from that soft 
and delicate textile, the banana fibre, recalling the early 
national Japanese garb of Yu or Bashofu made of the 
same material, imported from the Ryu-Kiu or Lew-Chew 
group. In making these, a loom or primitive weaving 
machine is used very similar in model, I am told, to that 
seen in some of the less advanced villages in the interior 
of Japan, where the restive demon of machinery has not 
yet wholly ousted hand manufacture. This machine goes 
under the name of Puas, cf. Pisa, the loom used in the 
Bencoolen district of Sumatra. The patterns are quaint 
and graceful, and the grouping of the tints carefully con- 
sidered and worked out to the avoidance of harsh, crude, 
or conflicting colours. A rich blue tint is obtained from 
the juice of the trunks of young banana-suckers, the wild 
turmeric root or the Morinda Citrifolia juice supplies the 
shades of yellow, black tints are obtained from burnt 
candle-nuts (Aleurites), and a rich reddish brown is pre- 
pared from the scraped and pounded bark of the mangrove 
roots. Other gradations of hue they get by carefully 
boiling in small quantities of water pieces of gaudy cotton 
fabrics, which their innate good taste rejects as an eyesore. 
No doubt their aesthetic taste is due to a remote Japanese 
ancestry or some admixture of a high Malayan type. For a 
more particular description of these fabrics vide Appendix. 

5 u 

- -4 

> 3 




Products : — Coconut oil (Kaki-fusas), Copra (Kaki), 
Pearlshell (Fat), and Beche-de-mer {Moet or Penipen). 

A fine clear morning at last. The King suggested 
an excursion along the coast to see something of the 
country, and visit the settlement and schoolhouse of the 
Boston Mission, offering to accompany me part of the 
way, but when pressed to introduce me to the missionaries 
he excused himself, saying that he was not very well 
pleased with them, and considered that they were unfairly 
usurping the power which properly belonged to him alone, 
but declining at the same time to more expressly state 
the grounds of his grievance. " However," said he, " I 
will tell a boy to sail along the coast in my canoe and 
catch us up early in the afternoon at the Gilbert islanders' 
settlement, so that you will easily get to Mout by night- 
fall." Accordingly we started on our walk, cautiously 
wading the narrow channel between Lele and the main- 
land. We hailed in passing the venerable Li-kiak-sa 
hard at work on his little island of Yenei weeding and 
digging amongst his sweet potato beds. He is devising 
traps and snares for the rats which have evidently been 
very busy amongst his cherished tubers. " The Kosso 
Kisrik {i.e. rats) won't leave me a potato soon," ruefully 
grumbles the poor old gentleman, as he turns with a sigh 
to his interrupted labours. " I wish I had a good big 
Kosso Kuchik to catch them." {Kosso Kuchik is the 
Kusaian name for Grimalkin, called by the Malays Pusang 
or Kuckzng.) The King promised him a fine yellow Tom 
on the first opportunity, and we left the holy man some- 
what comforted, delving and grubbing away with an 
energy astonishing for a man of his years. We trudged 
along some three miles of glittering white sandy beach 
backed by the usual thickets of Barringtonia and Pan- 
danus and coco palms, halting every now and then to 
admire the black and white sea-snakes {Kafeldld) basking 
on the warm sand at the bottom of the shallow waters. 
We managed to secure one of them by hooking him sud- 


denly out of the bay with a crooked stick, and stowed him 
away in a bottle to join the scorpions, centipedes, lizards 
and kindred horrors in their alcohol bath. By-and-bye 
the boy Mok-Lal was seen coming along with the canoe. 
He took us on board, and we skimmed before the wind along 
the shallow lagoon which is now gradually rilling, for the 
tide is on the turn. We soon reached the village * of Puia 
and its shady palm-groves. A venerable old guide directed 
me inland through the salt marshes to a picturesque 
waterfall, the scene of the ending of one of those romantic 
friendships common in island history. Two young chiefs 
defeated in battle, too proud to seek safety in flight, ended 
their lives together by casting themselves from the preci- 
pice to be crushed upon the rocks that surround the 
boiling pool below. 

Sixty feet sheer the clear current purls down a black 
runnel of shiny water-worn basaltic rock, edged by tufts 
of mosses and fern, lichen and weed sprouting greenly out 
of myriad cracks and crannies. A peculiar black-shelled 
mollusc (Neritina) is found adhering to the stones, 
resembling those found in the mountain streams of the 
Marquesas. Below, the stream irrigates a native hazel- 
copse, and abruptly burrowing loses itself in a sandy 
subsoil of marshland, the haunt of the Op, a fierce and 
monstrous red and blue crab with stout claws a cubit long, 
the Birgus latro or Robber crab of the naturalists. It 
climbs the trunks of the coco palms, bites off the clusters 
of ripe nuts, tears off the tough and fibrous outer husks with 
its powerful nippers, and devours the kernel, to the conse- 
quent shortage of copra and the indignation of the planter. 

Wending our tortuous way through the swamps, we 
come out on firmer ground. By-and-bye, pushing out of 
a thick spinney, we emerged upon a piece of abruptly 
rising ground. This surmounted, we saw before us a deep 
yawning chasm in the hillside towering above us. As we 
neared the entrance to the cavern, a doleful gibbering 

1 In Kusaie a village is Tili, in Ponape Tel. 


assaulted our ears, like the twittering of uneasy spirits in 
torment. Stumbling over heaps of pebbles and detritus, 
we gained the gloomy portal. Our eyes, gradually accus- 
tomed to the dim light, made out swarms of fluttering 
small bats, Kalekaf '(the Peapea of Samoa, Emballonura Sp.), 
like swallows on wing, darting hither and thither around 
the arched dome overhead, and ever and anon brushing 
in headlong panic against the intruders. Untold genera- 
tions of these creatures have piled up strata upon strata 
of the finest guano on the cavern floor — a grand business 
coup for the next trading-skipper who may find himself 
disappointed in the Chincha or Maiden Island deposits, 
which bid fair to pan out one of these days. Right at 
our feet stretches an inky pool of Cimmerian blackness, 
doubtless stretching far back into the shadowy recesses of 
the mountain. A few pistol shots fired at random amidst 
the gloom awoke sharp reverberating echoes and set the 
winged vermin circling and shrilly screeching overhead. 

On returning, we found that the king had gone as far 
as he intended. A piece of tobacco and a sea-biscuit 
amply satisfied my guide, and leaving the king to his 
walk overland, I embarked with the faithful Mok-Lal 
rather late in the afternoon. The tide was fast running 
out, and before long it became clear that we should have 
hard work to make Mout before midnight, if at all. To 
crown all, Mok-Lal, after much vigorous pantomime with 
an accompanying symphony of wonderful double vowels 
and treble consonants, took us flying into a tiny cove 
where ten or twelve crazy huts, and say a dozen starveling 
folk and a few lean yellow dogs represent a native settle- 
ment. Certain of a kindly welcome, but sorely suspecting 
fleas in these squalid habitations, I besought Mok-Lal not 
to rashly pledge us to stay overnight. Whilst in dire 
suspense, lo ! a welcome sight. The Tulengkun, which I 
know is bound for Mout, as her captain had told me the 
day before, appears round the next promontory. The 
opportunity was too good to be lost. A word to Mok-Lal, 


and two sturdy paddlers volunteered ; the frail canoe was 
launched and over the reef we went into the tumbling surf. 
Fortunately it was not much after half-tide, and there was 
just a chance to clear the outer line of breakers. After 
some very exciting moments and hairbreadth escapes, 
dodging the heavier rollers by a miracle, we are out in 
the open sea and presently, sound in limb but with 
dripping garments, I clambered on board the barque. The 
ancient cricket-bag, sorely the worse for wear with stress 
of rain, sun and salt water, was passed up over the 
side ; Mok-Lal and the boys taking a long compass round 
to the harbour mouth. They will not risk the breakers 
again — not they. The Enuts (ancestral spirits) won't 
work miracles twice running. We duly recognised their 
pluck and skill, and once more the Tulengkun is put 
before the wind. The sun goes down on the reddening 
waters, and the shadows of evening darken upon peak and 
cape, shore and valley. We barely strike the narrow reef- 
passage of desolate Star Harbour in the fast-failing light. 
Once within, however, we speedily glide up the inlet, moor- 
ing, after various tackings and fillings, close to a steep 
bank where a full-flowing river joins the salt water. The 
cause of these breaks in the barrier reef in the line of 
valleys where a river flows into the sea, is familiar to all 
those who chart out coral-formations in Pacific waters. A 
current of fresh or even brackish water means death to the 
myriads of busy little cellular zoophytes who pile up 
their rocky barriers against the inroads of ocean. Only 
in the noble rich salt water can these wonderful builders 
pursue their labours. 

We found the place almost bare of inhabitants, for it is 
only visited from time to time by fishing or copra-cutting 
parties. An old man directed us to a tumble-down build- 
ing with a crazy verandah, formerly'a trader's store, where, 
surrounded by tame cats and dogs, we hunted up some 
tinned food, biscuit and breadfruit, and made ourselves 
comfortable for the night. Next morning bright and early 


the ship's boat was speeding me over the drowsy lagoon, 
its still deep waters barely yet a-sparkle. The pearl-grey 
of the eastern sky is melting into a shimmer of pink and 
gold and bronze. To our left wave the feathery plumes 
of the graceful palms, softly stirring into life at the breath 
of the morning breeze — acre upon acre of woodland — 
flecked with broad irregular patches of shadow shrinking in 
the amber light of early dawn. Light and delicate airs laden 
with subtle fragrance float down from ferny dells above 
steeped in the glistening dewlight of the young day. Up 
comes the sun chasing the truant shadows one by one out 
of their hiding places on slope and valley, and everything 
is quickening into life. The forest is all astir with a 
rumour of birds. The sus, a tiny redbreasted honey-eater, 
flits cheeping amongst the creamy clusters of palm-bloom, 
and the coo of the wood-pigeon echoes through glade 
and thicket where, with no tell-tale plumage, she perches 
hidden though close at hand. All too soon our journey 
is over, and entering a little sandy cove we run alongside 
the wharf built of coral fragments, and, climbing the 
winding stairway hewn in the hillside, find ourselves in the 
little settlement which forms quite a township — the head- 
quarters of the mission after its expulsion from Ponape. 
Like Caesar's Gaul it lies in three parts. Each of these 
centres round its schoolhouse. The first establishment is 
allotted to the education of youths and boys from the 
Marshall Islands, in which archipelago the Germans, under 
certain restrictions, have granted the missionaries leave to 
establish stations for their propaganda. Dr Rife is in 
charge. The second, under Dr Channon, is for the instruc- 
tion of Gilbert Island boys ; and the third, highest up on 
the mountain side, is occupied by the girls' school, where 
a mixed bevy of Gilbert and Marshall Island lasses live 
under the aegis of the ladies of the mission, one of whom, 
Miss Palmer, was in charge of the establishment on the 
east coast of Ponape at Oa, the scene of the massacre of 
Lieut. Porras and his working party in 1 890. Drs Rife 


and Channon, with true American hospitality, soon have 
refreshment at hand which the heat of the day imperatively 
calls for. By and by the Tulengkun turns up in the 
bay, having waited for the turn of the tide. Captain 
M. and the two doctors are soon deep in business talk. 
I left them and sought a comfortable cane lounge, prying 
deep amongst Marshall and Gilbert Island root-words, 
with a sufficiency of green drinking-nuts at my side to 
counteract the dryness of my labours. A little after noon 
we were expected to dinner with Miss Palmer and her 
colleague at the girls' school. Captain M. was too busy to 
turn up and a little grumpy into the bargain, so Dr Channon 
took me up the hill instead, and introduced me in due 
form to the ladies. After doing justice to an excellent 
meal, the rights and wrongs of the 1890 business in Ponape 
were once more raked up from oblivion. Native merits 
and demerits were freely touched upon. Miss Palmer is 
a bright and sensible little woman with a deep interest in 
her work, which she declares is fairly successful, though 
now and then rather trying to the patience. However 
willing and docile, the savage convert will hark back 
at times to the crude notions of his forefathers, and 
deceit appears ingrained in them. Hence a strange 
moral obliquity leads them into the most needlessly 
crooked paths. Horace, when he speaks of driving out 
Nature with a pitchfork only to see her return in greater 
force than ever, doubtless had tried the experiment on 
some surly barbarian, and found him all unimproved by 
his gentle admonitions. The outward change for the 
better, however, to give the missionaries their due, amongst 
the Gilbert Islanders has been remarkable. They have 
always been the vindictive and ferocious of all South Sea 
Islanders, and under the careful instruction of sundry white 
miscreants had taken high honours in the school of 
piracy, cutting off unfortunate trading craft by diabolical 
treachery, plundering, and scuttling or burning the craft 
and cutting the throats of every soul on board. These 


playful pursuits would sometimes give way to a game at 
civil war. This kindly folk would vary the programme 
of murder, rapine, infanticide, and the wiping out of some 
unpopular village or other at stated intervals, by consum- 
ing huge quantities of coconut-toddy (Karuoruo) at their 
village festivals. These merry meetings invariably termin- 
ated in a fierce free-fight, where men and women joined in 
the melee with ironwood clubs and wooden swords, thickly 
studded with sharks' teeth, with which they inflicted ghastly 

Nowadays these noble savages are altered in some ways 
greatly for the better. They don't kill helpless infants 
any more. They don't cut off trading vessels — though 
possibly a vision of English Kaipukes or men-of-war has 
tended somewhat to this laudable change of purpose. 
They go to church, in European garb ; the men wear 
shirts and blue trousers, some wear black coats, and the 
women tawdry Manchester goods, and for fear of breaking 
the Sabbath by mistake, they abstain accurately and im- 
partially from every sort and condition of work week in 
week out — except under stress of actual hunger. They 
like money very well, but liquor and tobacco still better. 
They are told they mustn't smoke and musn't drink, so of 
course they do it on the quiet the first chance they get. 
There is a certain bluntness amounting almost to churlish- 
ness in the Gilbert Islander that distinguishes him from 
his politer brethren, the Tahitian and Samoan. This and 
the complacency and self-righteousness of the native con- 
vert does not particularly endear him at first sight to the 
European visitor. The Pacific Islander in a word is pass- 
ing through a transition period. He has left behind him 
many of the vices of his forefathers, but at the same 
time the savage virtues — bravery, hardihood, self-help, 
and honesty in his dealings with his neighbour — are 
also flickering out of him. His individuality is lost and 
he has become a Christian of the colourless humdrum 
order, full of goody-goody texts and Scriptural references 


— a harmless fellow enough, but scarcely as interesting 
to the student of human nature as his barbarian ancestors. 
The duplicity and sly reticence of the savage is unchanged 
in him, and ever and anon the old natural man peeps out 
to gambol in most unorthodox cantrips. Unstable as 
water and at first sight without any real depth of charac- 
ter, he is as shrewd a hand at a bargain as any chapel- 
going grocer who sands his sugar. Anecdotes to the 
above effect whiled away the afternoon as we strolled about 
the little settlement. The students, some one hundred 
and forty in all, appeared on their very best behaviour, 
perfect models of that meek deportment which the supple 
natives, like schoolboys and monkeys, know well how to 
put on and off like a glove. Altogether the community 
wore an air of quiet prosperity and contentment. The 
boys are taught various useful trades, such as carpentry 
and joinery, and the girls are instructed in the use of the 
needle and all manner of housewifely duties. It is a 
miniature copy of the Kamehameha School for native 
boys and girls at Kalihi, a suburb of Honolulu, and 
doubtless the native in time will be the gainer for the 
gradual formation of settled habits of industry. 

Of the kindly and hospitable people in charge of 
the Mission Station of course there can be but one 
opinion. They believe genuinely in their work, and 
devote themselves with single-hearted zeal to what seems 
an unpromising and thankless task. With those who 
frankly differ from them in their ways or methods they 
can argue without bitterness or lack of charity, as all 
seekers after truth should surely do. 

At sunset we went down to Dr Channon's pretty little 
house to a spread of native and imported dainties, and a 
most interesting evening's talk ensued. My host proves an 
exceedingly well informed and liberal-minded specimen 
of the professional man of brain and action that Yale, 
Harvard, Princeton, and their sister universities are turning 
out year after year to enrich Young America. By and by 


we pay a visit to the class-rooms and converse a while 
with the boys, most of whom understand English — of the 
parrot order, one must confess. Then the talk runs on 
musty antiquities and certain singular native customs with 
which the reader shall not be bored at present. The lads 
gave a sample of their powers as choristers, singing vari- 
ous hymns pitched in a doleful key — keeping capital time 
the while. The reader will perhaps be surprised to learn 
that part-singing has been a popular institution amongst 
Pacific island races from time immemorial. Then home 
and to bed, and up with the calling of the fowls — " Lan 
mon kakla " — as the islanders phrase it. 

A pleasant breeze was ruffling the waters of the 
bay, and the Tulengkun straining at her moorings. 
With a hearty farewell to our friends on shore, we 
pushed off and boarded her, and in some twenty 
minutes were slipping merrily through the water on 
our twelve miles' run to Lele. The hill-slopes of 
Mout are soon left astern. Range after range of 
mountain and valley glide past us and the sun is high 
in heaven, looking straight down on the reef, when we 
round our last headland and work our way slowly into 
the home wharf through the rollers washing into the 
narrow harbour, all shimmering in the soft and golden 
haze. The mid-day meal at Capt. M.'s despatched, the 
Tokosa and I take a long woodland walk, sauntering 
slowly through the palm-groves and fairy glades in the 
waning afternoon which ushers in my last night in Lele. 

The sun sinks — a wheel of ruby flame — amidst a 
wonder of flaky cloud-wrack, lit up with tenderest hues 
of pearl, emerald and amethyst, undreamt of by artists 
of sober northern climes, who reck not of Nature's prodi- 
gality in sounds and sights to these her favoured children 
of the tropics. From the domain of the on-creeping host 
of shadows, from the dim and cool recesses of darkening 
woodland, trills the chirp of myriad cicalas. The placid 
waters of the harbour here and there dimple in the grow- 


ing twilight with swirling rings to the splashing of leaping 
fish. One by one in the gathering dusk cooking-fires 
gleam out like lamplight all around the bay from the 
scattered native huts lying back in the fringing belt of 
palm and pandanus. Side by side brushing through a 
tangle of trailing creeper, we make for the Tokosa's house, 
where I am to pass the night. The king has agreed to 
show me the ruins next morning without fail. Li-kiak-Sa 
has parted with three beautiful shell-axes {tola), some 
baskets and mats, and a quantity of the dainty native 
sashes of woven and dyed banana-fibre. In the king's 
household, for the last two or three days, the fair maidens 
Kenie, Kusue and Notue, have been hard at work produc- 
ing specimens of their delicate fabric — gifts for their guest 
to take away to his bleak northern home. The worthy old 
deacon Kevas turned up, and we put in four hours' solid 
work up to midnight mastering the intricacies of the 
Kusaian tongue ; and the good old man handed me over 
several crude Kusaian translations from the New Testa- 
ment as a parting gift. He had worked very conscienti- 
ously, never shirking a difficulty, but explaining everything 
within his power. The king, also, who speaks English 
correctly and even elegantly, has proved a valuable assist- 
ant. Since the visit of the Coquille nobody has apparently 
taken trouble to collect any facts about these interesting 
islanders, and now it is indeed high time, and only 
just not too late. It is a sad pity that the language 
of Kusaie, with all its elaborate grammatical inflection, 
and quaint post-positions so suggestive of Japanese in- 
fluence, seems likely ere long to be classed with the dead 
languages of the earth. For the population is not over four 
hundred, all told, and the island is one vast garden capable 
of supporting with ease twenty times that number. But the 
health and vigour of the folk have been sapped by terrible 
diseases introduced by the brutal and lawless crews of 
visiting whalers whom Dr Rife, from some heart-rending 
medical experience, with perfect justice denounces as the 


vilest miscreants, the enemies of God and man. Any un- 
prejudiced reader of history — of the voyages of Cook and 
Roggenwein and other early navigators — must needs admit 
the truth of these awful facts. Little cause indeed have 
Pacific Islanders to bless the greater part of their white 
brethren. There was true historical foresight in the pre- 
diction of the Tahitian sage 'Avira. 

" Ua haere te fau 
E mou te fa'arero, 
E nao te ta'ata." 

" The leaves are falling on the sand, 
The sea shall swallow coral strand, 
Our folk shall vanish from the land." 

On the following day (May 15th) we were early astir, 
for Capt. M., who was rather in an irritable mood, had 
solemnly vowed to wait for neither of us after four o'clock. 
The king, to my great delight, is coming up to Ponape to 
pay his respects to the Spanish governor, Sr. Pidal — a 
precise but not unkindly old gentleman of Spain, who, 
after a successful and popular administration, is returning 
home to Madrid. We borrowed the Tulengkuri s compass, 
and the Tokosa and I, with pencil, note-book, and bush- 
knife in hand, set out on our exploration. A boy came 
with us, carrying a knife and a six-foot pole, carefully 
graduated from a carpenter's foot-rule. 

To reach it we had to skirt the remains of some Cyclo- 
pean walls built of enormous rough basalt blocks rudely 
fitted together, immensely old, but now falling into ruins, in 
the neighbourhood of the king's house, and Captain M.'s, 
which we have already viewed. The latter, yielding to a 
Vandal instinct, has dismantled those nearest to his 
house, using the huge blocks as a groundwork for his neat 
new wharf, caring little what became of the ancient struc- 
ture. Leaving these behind us our way lies some three 
hundred yards inland, along a narrow muddy lane shut in 
by fern-fringed walls some five feet high, where we catch our 
first glimpse of the great outer wall of the principal enclosure 


" Pot Falat." The masonry is composed of basalt blocks 
and prisms of varying shape, many enormous in bulk but 
clumsy in disposal. In careful and minute adjustment 
they are inferior to the structures of Metalanim or Java, 
but doubtless the work of a kindred race of builders 
labouring under less favourable conditions. Looking at 
their solid outlines, seamed and furrowed with the rain 
and sun of untold generations, one cannot help marvelling 
at the ingenuity and skill of these primitive engineers in 
moving, lifting and poising such huge and unwieldy 
masses of rock into their present position, where these 
mighty structures, shadowed by great forest trees, stand 
defying Time's changing seasons and the fury of tropic 
elements. Why in distant little spots of the Pacific do 
we find the like engineering marvels ? — sites held as 
sacred, guarded by shadowy traditions of mighty kings, 
magic builders and giant folk of old. Ponape has her 
Tikitik-en-ani or Teraphim of stone, has her sanctuaries 
of Nan-Tauach and Pankatara, and her Lil-charaui or 
sacred precincts ; Tobi, her massive platforms topped by 
stone images of her Yari, or ancient heroes, gazing out 
upon the deep ; Hawaii, her demon - temples {Heiau). 
The Marquesan has his holy places {Meae) and his Tiki, 
giant images hewn out of black basalt ; the Tahitian his 
Marae and Ahu-rai, sepulchral monuments of ancient kings. 
The Easter Islander his giant long-eared statues of black 
stone with crowns of red-brown Tufa on their heads, his 
lofty platforms, stone houses, and wooden tablets inscribed 
with mysterious hieroglyphics. 

The key, doubtless, is to be found in human ambition, 
which reveals itself even amongst the fragments of a 
forgotten folk occupying these little spots in a waste of 
waters. These remains, insignificant as they appear 
beside the works of Mycerinus, Cheops, Apda-martu, 
Sargon, and Nebuchadnezzar, may yet serve to show 
what eloquent sermons dumb stones may preach ; what 
stories they tell us of the generations of man vanishing 

Pot Falat Ruins 

Low stont* wall. 

if „ 

f IJL./B 

Gateway Gat'-wny- 

3 » •* 


End aC Canal 
Stone barrier 



one by one into dim immensity, ephemeral as the leaves 
of the forest fluttering down year after year to their dust. 

But time is passing, and the tide will not tarry for us 
either, and briskly we set to work on our measurements, 
hewing our way through the jungle, splashing into muddy 
puddles, and tearing a path through the tough ground 
creepers which conceal many a slippery stone. 

The enclosure forms a parallelogram, the side between 
the western and northern angles measuring 194 feet, and 
that between the eastern and northern 1 1 o feet. Cutting 
a path on the south-west side, where the masonry lies piled 
up in vast ruinous heaps overgrown with a maze of hibiscus, 
we started operations at the western angle, moving along 
the north-west side. 

The following are some of the measurements : — 

The height of the wall, at the west angle, is 25 feet. 
At the foot of the wall, facing north-west, runs a shallow 
canal. At a distance of 72 feet along the canal-side is a 
modern barrier of small stones built to keep out high tides 
— the height of the channel above sea-level being very 
trifling. Doubtless this canal, like the others, of which 
there are abundant remains on Lele, was constructed for 
the purpose of rafting up these huge blocks of stone from 
the beach whither they were brought from South Harbour, 
where Nature, as in Ponape, has further indulged her 
spoilt children by providing natural pillars ready cast in 
her furnaces underground, crystallised out into hexagonal 
prisms ready for the workman's hand. The geologist will 
recall the Giant's Causeway, the rocks of the southern 
promontory of Tasmania, and the organ-pipe formation on 
Staffa and Iona, as illustrative of this phenomenon else- 
where. Just beyond the aforesaid barrier is a gateway 
7 feet in breadth. The height of the wall here is 1 6 feet. 
Great fragments of shivered basalt that have toppled 
down from time to time strew the rocky floor below. 
From this cause the wall varies considerably in height. 
About 40 feet along from the gateway a massive slab of 


basalt stands out among its smaller brethren, length, 9 
feet 6 inches ; depth, 2 feet 4 inches ; breadth, 3 feet 
6 inches. 

The breadth of the canal is 9 feet. Here the wall 
is 1 5 feet thick. 5 o feet beyond this point we reach a 
second portal 1 5 feet wide. 1 o feet beyond this is the 
northern angle occupied by a huge banyan-tree, which 
seems obstinately bent on the destruction of the masonry, 
with its myriads of clinging roots digging into every 
crevice and hollow of the stonework in the exasperating 
manner known to every botanist familiar with the tricks 
of ficoid plants. These root-fibres develop into high aerial 
buttresses. Whenever a strong wind comes, as for instance 
during the N.E. trades, there is a tremendous strain on 
the masonry. This is not the only destructive factor, for 
the continual expansion of the roots tends more and more 
to throw these gigantic masses of stone out of position — 
an accident which these primitive engineers could hardly 
have anticipated. Fire and water these structures could 
resist for untold ages — sub-aerial denudation for them 
would have no terrors, but the capillary forces of nature 
are stronger than even these old foes. Thus the irony of 
Nature loves to set at nought human endeavour. How 
simple a method of disruption is the swelling of milky sap 
in clinging root-tendrils that would once have yielded to a 
penknife. But from the days of Aristotle downwards, v\rj 
was ever a disturbing element. 

The height of the wall at the northern angle is 26 feet 
{vide frontispiece). The face is thickly overgrown with 
masses of hartstongue and Asplenium fern (called Fwa 
and Malaklak). Dense weeds and trailing creepers occupy 
every available crevice, and forest trees in every stage of 
development are springing up above and behind. 

At the northern angle there is a massive pentagonal 
corner-stone measuring 9 feet in length, 3 feet 6 inches in 
breadth, and 3 feet in depth. 

The branch canal running along this (the north-east) 


side is 4 feet in breadth, bordered by a wall built up of 
rubble 5 feet high. 

25 feet along from the north angle is a gateway (No. 
3) about 5 feet wide. The thickness of the main wall is 
here 1 5 feet. 20 feet further on is a fourth gateway, and 
50 feet beyond we reach the eastern angle, where there 
is a remarkable octagonal corner-stone 3 feet 6 inches 
across, 3 feet 10 inches in depth, and 6 feet 2 inches in 

The height of the wall at the east angle is 20 feet. 
Progress along the south-east side we found very difficult, 
and we had to form a passage through a dense labyrinth 
of hibiscus. The walls are much dilapidated on this side, 
varying in height from 8 to 1 5 feet. In many cases they 
have collapsed into mere heaps. 

There is little of interest in the interior at first sight. 
A ruined wall divides the interior into two courtyards, 
both considerably overgrown with straggling coco-palms, 
banyans, Ixoras and jackfruit trees. There is also a bushy 
undergrowth of scrub and a network of running vines. 

At last we reach the south angle, where the wall is seen 
at its greatest height (30 feet). 

Here some massive pieces of rock are let into the 

The dimensions of one six-faced corner-stone let into 
the wall about 20 feet from the ground were found to be : 
length, 1 o feet ; depth, 4 feet ; breadth across face, 2 feet 
6 inches. 

The foundations of the wall at the south angle are three 
roundish masses of basalt piled together. The lowest 
measures 6 feet in length, 4 feet in depth, and 3 feet in 

Here our survey concluded, much to my regret. There 
was no time to make any excavations which might have 
brought to light, as in the ruins of Metalanim, some 
interesting specimens of native weapons, beads and shell- 
bracelets. Any future visitor, however/who is ambitious of 


making excavations around or within the Pot Falat need 
have no anxiety that King Teleusar will behave as badly 
as his brother monarch of Ponape. Doubtless a thorough 
exploration of the little island lasting several weeks would 
reveal many other curious relics of the past. The interior 
is somewhat hilly and very thickly overgrown with brush- 
wood and forest. Most of the south-east and south-west 
portion of Lele, like the south coast of Tongatabu, is a 
tract of lowland patiently and laboriously reclaimed in 
olden time from the sea. A network of canals — very 
much out of repair — intersects this portion, many of these 
partially filled or banked up by the natives in modern 
times to keep the tides from turning their taro-patches 
and cleared lands into a salt swamp. The remains of 
immensely solid walls in the neighbourhood of Captain 
M.'s store and the king's house along the beach, are no 
doubt like the Pot Falat, relics of an elaborate system of 
fortification, the product of large numbers of native work- 
men toiling under the orders of an intelligent minority of 
a superior race who had a practical knowledge of engineer- 
ing. A mixed expedition of intrusive and conquering 
Malays and Japanese would probably account for the 
phenomena ; and, as said before, the natives have a dim 
tradition of foreigners coming in strange vessels out of the 
north, settling on Lele and putting the chiefs of Ualan, 
the main island, across the bay to tribute. 

The natives seem to attach no special sanctity to these 
structures. Though possibly the work of a kindred race, 
the ruins of Lele are far rougher and ruder in design than 
those of the east coast of Ponape. It may be, however, 
that on Ponape, a much larger island, there were more 
workmen and better material for the work. 

And thus we took leave of these labours of Titans. 
We sailed that evening, touching at Pingelap and Mokil 
on our return journey, and anchoring in Ascension Bay 
after a tedious and uneventful voyage of ten days, a suc- 
cession of calms alternating with heavy rain-squalls. 



THE day after the Tulengkun came in I visited the 
Spanish Governor, who listened with much interest 
to the account of my doings. I then went over to Lan- 
gar, and spent three days with Captain Weilbacher, where 
I had some interesting talks with the Lap or Headman 
of Langar, and with some of our old friends from Paliker, 
who are loyal customers of the German firm. I also met 
some natives from Ngatik or Raven's Island, some thirty 
miles away to the south-west, who had come up on one 
of their rare visits. They are the descendants of an 
American negro castaway, who, with his native wife and 
children and a few relations and servants from Kiti, landed 
on the islet about forty years ago. Strange to say, dur- 
ing that short period of isolation they have actually de- 
veloped a new and peculiar dialect of their own, broadening 
the softer vowels and substituting TH or F for the original 
T sound in the parent Ponapean. 

I spent a day botanising amongst the hill-slopes of Not 
and in the ferny dells of Kamar, and another on a visit to 
Kubary at Mpompo, and collected many seeds of economic 
trees and plants from the densely-wooded district around 
the big waterfall. 

A day or two afterwards I met Nanapei again in the 

Colony. He seemed rather distrait, and told me that 

things were going badly on the East coast ; that influenza 

had broken out and carried off many of the people, for 

which King Paul, who was in a very bad humour, held 

me and the Manilla man to blame. I was advised not to 



visit Metalanim until Nanapei had smoothed matters over, 
and to content myself for the present amongst the tribes 
on the south and south-west coast, who would welcome 
me gladly. With Nanapei was a young relation named 
Chaulik, an amiable lad with the manners of an Eton boy 
and the kindliness of a Tahitian chief. We were soon 
firm friends. At Nanapei's suggestion Chaulik invited 
me down to his uncle Nanchau's island of Mutok on the 
south coast, to which I paid a couple of flying visits, the 
latter lasting from June 8th to 23rd. 

I visited King Rocha, and explored the beautiful valley 
below Mount Wana, through which the Kiti river flows. 

I found Nanchau a fine old host. The King of Kiti 
and his people were most friendly, and the good Catholic 
padre of the Aleniang mission station showed me great 
kindness. One day I had a glorious little climb to the 
top of one of the two round masses of wooded hill which, 
separated by a deep chine, stand out upon Mutok like 
humps upon a camel. I was accompanied by a bright 
young lady named Eta, who made a capital guide, and 
showed a remarkable knowledge of plant and tree-names. 
She took considerable interest, somewhat tempered with 
awe, in my grammar and dictionary-making, and in a 
spirit of true camaraderie tendered me valuable and very 
unselfish assistance afterwards amongst her kinsfolk by 
stirring up the most intelligent of them to tell me what 
they knew of the gods and heroes of the olden time. 

Accordingly one fine morning succeeding a stormy 
night we wait till the sun is high over the coconuts, and 
start climbing up the runnel of a watercourse, working our 
way through a maze of roots and branches which overhang 
the steep and stony trail. We wrestle with treacherous 
creepers, and scale fallen trunks of trees lying scattered 
over the hillside. A brief but violent shower of rain sud- 
denly patters down and as suddenly ceases, leaving the 
bush all a-drip and steaming in the noonday heat. At 
length we struggle up to the dividing ridge, where a 


clump of sago-palms in varying stages of growth looks 
down through hanging woods upon the calm bay below. 
At their roots a little spring bubbles up fresh and clear 
from the basalt, amongst masses of greenest leafage and 
the erect rose-tinted flower-spikes of the Aulong or wild 

Pursuing a track along the western hill-slope we plunge 
into thickets of prickly wild pandanus. With many a 
scratch we emerge, hot with much hewing, into an open 
space with a platform of stones in the centre, the founda- 
tion of some old native house. This hill is called Tol-o- 
Puel (Anglice Mud or Clay Hill). The landward one, 
where sundry wild goats do roam, is called Tol-en-Takai 
or Stony Hill, and fully deserves its name. A few wild 
pigs and some jungle-fowl inhabit the recesses of the bush, 
and all the day long the covert is alive with the notes 
of green and grey doves. The usual forest-trees of the 
basaltic uplands are found here. The banyan Aw, the 
ficoid Nin, the Elceocarpus Chatak, the wild nutmeg 
Karara, the graceful ash-leaved Marachau, and many 
another tree that never grew in European woods. Un- 
seen cicalas fill the tree-tops with their shrill chorus, and 
up from the mangrove-belt below floats the harsh croak 
of the Kaualik or blue heron, fishing in the reef-pools and 
paddling around the logs and tree trunks rotting in the 
ooze and mud. Around us the rustle of thickets and a 
rumour of small life. To seaward the shining waters of 
the lagoon, its blue tints merging into green, and the thin 
grey line of the outer reef fringed with creaming breakers. 
Over all, rising and falling in deep and changeless cadence, 
floats their echo. Like Stevenson in Apemama, " I heard 
the pulse of the besieging sea," sound sweet to the ears 
of those who dwell in the little sea-girt lands. 

These and other excursions I made, and day by day 
felt myself more in the people's confidence. And so before 
long, the beche-de-mer season being nigh, Nanchau and 
his kinsfolk of Mutok, some fifteen souls in all, determined 



to establish a fishing-station upon the little island of 
Paniau, out upon the barrier-reef, near the harbour 
mouth. I was to go up to the Colony in their boat 
to get my mails due by the steamer on the 25 th, and 
take in a store of European provisions, medicines, and 
all things needful for a lengthy stay ; then to return 
and spend several months with them, collecting shells, 
and viewing the strange fishes and forms of marine life, 
for which study they declared the spot unequalled. And 
so indeed it proved, and most loyal was the help they 
gave me. Accordingly I went up to Ascension Bay and 
received my long-looked-for letters from home and else- 
where, some thirty in all, and came back again with all 
arrangements made, and the boat well loaded up with 
stores of biscuit and beef, tea and sugar, tobacco and 
kerosene, matches, and knives, and an axe or two. 
And in two or three days we all crossed the bay in an 
odd little fleet consisting of five canoes, a flat-bottomed 
punt, and a sailing-boat ; the latter rather the worse for 
wear after frequent collisions with the coral-rocks in the 
shallows. The following somewhat minute description 
of a stroll round my new island-home will give some 
idea of the scenery of the islets lying in the lagoon 
off the Ponapean coast, and indeed of the character of a 
Pacific atoll -island in general. And maybe the reader 
will follow me in thought to a spot, which I would 
gladly have him visit in body, far, far out of the 
track of tourist and artist, and likely to remain so for 
many a long day. 

Starting from the end pointing shorewards where our huts 
and drying-houses are established, one comes upon a fine 
crescent bend of silver- white sand stretching along some two 
hundred yards, the high water mark of the tides indicated 
by little ridges of driftwood, sea-weed, and floating seeds 
washed up by the ocean currents. Immediately above 
tide-mark is a belt of coarse, creeping grass, mingled 
with a tangle of yellow veitchling (Keiwalu), and a 


large purplish-flowered creeper {Ipo)nea sp.) (the fuefue of 
Samoa), which bind the sandy soil together with their 
matted roots. The Nkau, a medicinal weed of rapid 
growth, with yellow flowers resembling a single Michael- 
mas daisy, occupies much space in the interior. At the 
edge of our settlement are some fine pandanus trees, but- 
tressed with high and solid aerial roots, laden with huge 
orange-red fruit, looking like glorified pine-apples. 

And now, strolling onwards, we come to the prettiest 
thing in the island, a magnificent nursery of young 
coconut palms, leaf and stem just passing from their 
early light-red tint into harmonies of light and dark 
green, as Nature, the great chemist, is quickening into 
action the chlorophyll within them. In the young 
fronds the pinnae or leaflets are set firmly and evenly 
together, and do not present the ragged and wind-worn 
outline of their elder brethren, which flutter crisping in 
the trade-wind overhead. Turning a little way into the 
bush, piles of husk and fallen nuts in all their stages 
lie around. The sprouting nut, called Par by the Pona- 
peans, is filled with a soft spongy mass, which has taken 
the place of the solid kernel, and is highly valued when 
roasted. In the previous stage, i.e. when the nut is 
below par and the kernel has reached its maximum 
hardness and thickness, it is called Mangach, and then 
is ready to be cut out and dried for copra. 

Upon Paniau there is, or rather was, a thriving colony 
of Ump or robber crabs (JBirgus latro), levying contribu- 
tions on the coconuts. Upon these the native proprietors 
look with an evil eye on account of the nuts they destroy. 
Once, at King Rocha's entreaty, we organised a regular 
battue. The boys in camp lived on dressed crab for 
a whole week after. This, however, by the way. 

Coming out on to the beach again, it is rather inter- 
esting to turn over and examine the drifts of weed and 
jetsam. Stems of reed-grass and bamboo, bits of dry 
hibiscus wood, the long-seeded rhizomes of the mangrove, 


the round, black, scaly nuts of the sago or ivory palm, 
and the fluted fruits of the Nipa or swamp-palm, the 
seeds of Pulok, Waingal, Marrap-en-chet, and Kamau ; 
the first named polygonal, the second round and flattish, 
the third long, slender and keeled, and the last of just the 
size and wrinkled shape of a walnut taken out of its shell. 
Specimens of seeds of the common littoral shrubs are 
washed up in great numbers. Guppy, in his book on 
the Solomon Islands, has some very interesting passages 
on the flotation and drifting of seeds on the ocean cur- 
rents, and the consequent wide distribution of certain 
littoral trees in the Pacific area. 

The drifts of deadwood, sea-weed, and decayed fruits 
and nuts, show how ingeniously Nature contrives to build 
up a suitable soil for the seeds surviving their ocean journey. 
Numbers of hermit crabs (Umpd) and some small brown 
lizards {Lamuar) are very busy amongst the rubbish. 
Many of the hermit-crabs are crawling around ensconced in 
the prettily-mottled green and brown shells of a sea-snail. 
The tenant adopts a house according to his colour — for 
the occupiers of these first- mentioned dwellings have a 
dull green body with red markings, others again have 
sky-blue antennae, and their claws speckled with rich 
blue and gold. One very large blue and red Csenobita 
of allied species we found had wedged his body into an 
ancient coconut, the top of which had been broken in. 

Looking out into the lagoon from the crescent sand- 
beach as the tide ebbs, one remarks some curiously shaped 
limestone rocks, about forty in number, studding the flats, 
most of them much worn away at the base, and locking 
like flowers on a stalk. Captain Wilson, of the ill-fated 
Antelope, noticed many of these formations in the Pelews 
in 1783. He calls them "Flower-pot islets," from their 
narrow bases and bulging tops. These are often crowned 
with a bristle of small littoral shrubs, which flourish in the 
scanty soil, the resort of the sea birds Parrat and Kake, 
the latter of which deposits its eggs here in the tufiets of 


grass, sea-pink and parsley fern, being too lazy to build a 
proper nest. 

At low tide the flats are dotted with shallow pools and 
thin sheets of salt water, where the Chila, Pachu, and Pacho, 
species of Tridacna or Clam, open up their valves to bask 
all pink and purple in the sunlight. Here are also found 
several sorts of oysters, oblong, circular and hammer- 
shaped, and a great abundance of other mollusca and 
small Crustacea. Portions of the reef lie bare, seamed 
with long cracks, in which lurk fishes innumerable of the 
Leather-Jacket or of the Chcetodon type. The coral floor 
of the pools is thickly pitted with little circular holes, the 
abode of the Muraenas or grey sea-eels, which at the rising 
of the tide are seen darting about actively, gorging them- 
selves with the small fry who issue from their hiding 
places in endless shoals at the first stirring of the waters. 
Leaving the beach, we pass inland once more along a 
shady pathway running through the coconut groves which 
lead past the two water-holes supplying our little colony 
with water for bathing and washing. Our drinking water, 
by the way, comes from a spring on Mutok, which we 
fetch over twice a week in calabashes, bottles and a couple 
of big earthen vessels, designed for storing biscuit, but 
which make capital water-pots. 

This path is a dividing line marking off the land of my 
hosts, Nalik and Nanchau, from that of the King of Kiti 
to whom belongs all the seaward end. The water holes 
are just in the centre of the island, and here there is some 
rich soil. King Rocha has planted a number of jackfruit 
and breadfruit trees which are doing well. There is also 
plenty of Giant Taro, and the Tacca or native arrowroot 
grows abundantly. Beyond this the seaward end of the 
island is occupied by a dense grove of Wi or Barringtonia, 
where the Parrat, a brownish-grey sea-bird, has estab- 
lished a regular rookery, which in the night season when 
the moon is bright is continually astir, or was, before 
squab-pie became a standing dish amongst us. The 


Barringtonia is a very handsome tree, with creamy white 
and pink tassels of deciduous blossom and long broad 
leaves, with an elegant sheaf of ruby-hued leaflets shoot- 
ing out in their midst. The yellow-wooded Morinda 
Citrifolia, which the Ponapeans call Weipul or Flame- 
Tree, is abundantly in evidence, also the Kiti or Cerbera. 
Struggling through the undergrowth we make our way 
toward the end facing the outer reef, which the tides 
have left high and dry. The Konuk or Betel-pepper 
climbs like ivy over the trunks of the coconut palms, 
where spirals of Polypody and great tufts of Talik or 
Birds'-nest Fern are also found growing — the long broad 
leaves of the latter being much in use for plates. Large 
bundles of them are also collected to serve as a dry 
foundation for the sleeping mats at night. 

On the coconut trunks also are seen growing tufts of 
Parsley Fern, the Ulunga-n-Kieil or Black Lizard's Pillow 
of the Ponapeans. The seaward end of Paniau reached, 
about half way between high water mark and the edge of 
the great outer barrier reef, runs a remarkably deep natural 
ditch, trench, or crevasse, in the coral limestone, which they 
call the Warrawar, where on certain dark nights at high 
tide we used to fish by torch-light. All the back of the 
reef is thickly strewn with coral fragments, ruinous alike 
to shoes and feet. The little narrow strip of beach on 
which we stand is overshadowed with a fringe of Pena and 
Ikoik trees. Here the palms stop short, for the dense 
masses of Barringtonia have ousted them. From this 
point on, our way lies over beds of honeycombed lime- 
stone rock, studded with rough knobs and bristling with 
points and edges of a razor-like keenness. The inland 
path on this side is narrow, dark and tortuous. At the foot 
of the thick-growing Barringtonias, the ground is covered 
with chunks and slabs of broken coral of all shapes and 
sizes, liable to turn underfoot when stepped on, and to 
inflict unmerciful raps on shin and ankle. Under the 
tree-roots lurks the ever-watchful Birgus in his burrow on 


a couch of coconut husk, gloating over his unholy spoils. 
To seaward one at all events has the satisfaction of seeing 
one's way. These cruelly sharp coral ridges are appropri- 
ately called by the natives Rackarack, a word which also 
denotes the teeth of a saw. Close to the end of the War- 
rawar are two pools about four to five feet in depth, into 
which a number of fish used to find their way at high 
tides. At low water a judicious use of the narcotic Up 
root on several occasions stocked our larder well. About 
this point the Barringtonia gives place to the Inot and 
Titin, two medicinal trees common on all the island 
beaches. A little further on stretches our chief fish- 
pond, closed in with a stout stone dam to seaward, and 
often yielding us good sport with net and spear. All 
this rugged side of the island is strewn with driftwood, 
from whence we draw a welcome and never-failing supply 
of fuel to keep our beche-de-mer-curing operations vigor- 
ously going. The fish-pond passed, we find ourselves at 
the back of the settlement from which we started, with 
the camel-backed outline of Mutok and the distant peak 
of Mount Wana showing up to our left, and in the 
fore-ground the little sandbank of Tekera separated from 
us by a narrow channel, a mere ridge of broken coral, 
crowned with the graceful and feathery foliage of the 
Ngi or Ironwood. The reader will gather some notion 
of the beauties of lagoon and reef lying around us, from 
the subjoined description of one of our frequent trips to 
this charmed region of lovely and ever-varying scenes. 

As the canoe shoots over the edge of the great coral 
barrier that looms up through the water like a mighty 
sea-wall sloping down into the deeps, the voyager for 
a moment feels a novel sensation, like that of looking 
over a giddy precipice. The landward reef edging bristles 
with a thousand graceful forms of branching coral and 
a marvel of submarine algae ; a true garden of the Nereides 
laid out in gay parterres of oarweed and sea-fan, picked 
out with scintillating patches of sea-moss of intense 


electric blue. Nature here deals in odd and whimsical 
contradictions. Sponges like corals flourish beside corals 
like sponges. On the sandy bottom inshore bask herds of 
sea-cucumbers (Holothuria), black, brown, red, green, and 
speckled, stretching out their wavy tassels of tentacle 
to engulf the tiny sea-eels or other small fry. Great 
bright ultramarine five-fingered starfishes lie spread out 
below, fearless of snatching fingers, for the Ponapeans 
firmly believe that the lifting of one of these creatures 
out of water will be followed by a heavy downpour of 
rain. All around, on the shelves below the reef edge, out 
of crevices in the living rock, sponges are growing in vivid 
rows and clusters. Sponges grey, sponges green, sponges 
scarlet as geranium flower, sponges yellow as marigolds, 
parti-coloured sponges chequered dark blue and black, 
sponges soft and sponges horny — a goodly sight for any 
but a Turkey merchant. For the traders say the homeliest- 
looking alone are of commercial value, and these are only 
found in any number on the Paliker coast some fifteen 
miles up. Solemn blue herons stalk round the flats. The 
distant cry of the Kdke or white gull and the screech of 
his grey cousin the Parrat, hawking hither and thither 
out to sea, shrills fitfully on the ear — whilst ever and 
anon comes the rhythmical boom of ocean's ceaseless 
thunder rolling on the outer reef and reverberating 
through the hollow caverns in the honeycombed lime- 
stone below ; dens where grim and giant poulps and 
Crustacea lurk in the pale green light glimmering deep 
down below the combing line of surf; where priceless 
orange-cowries stud the debris of the ocean floor like 
crocuses, living out their little lives, far from the reach 
of conchologist, and shadowed under the aegis of Nature's 
mightiest forces. 

Light airs are stirring. The bracing scent of the reef 
comes off in frequent whiffs, brisk, eager odours of fucus, 
sea-tangle, and things marine, rich in ozone and iodine, 
with a sickly phosphoric aftertang from heaps of dead 


and decaying coral. To seaward the air is thick with 
motes of spray, and over Ant Atoll in the west ominous 
banks of cloud are forming up. Mid-heaven as yet is 
clear, and the sun shines out serenely. But the camel- 
backed outline of Mutok over the bay seems close at 
hand, and a languor of damp heat hangs heavy over 
all. Nature is awaiting her Titanic shower-bath that 
the coming squall will surely bring. At each dip of 
the paddle, forms of beauty, unlimned, undreamt of by 
artist, flash under our keel below the shimmering ripples. 
Forms of liquid ruby and topaz, strange living shapes, 
fiery, crystalline, translucent, amethystine, opalescent, 
iridescent. Landward we turn, and straightway the 
tender dissolving hues of the coral and its accompanying 
dream of colour-miracle are fading out into soberer tints, 
as the water runs shallower. Memories of good (/anon 
Kingsley's " Westward Ho ! " float back, the yearning 
dreamy fancies of Frank Leigh's gentle spirit ripe for its 
passing. " Qualis Natura formatrix si talis formata." " How 
fair must be Nature the Former if her forms are so fair." 

We pass over large round table-topped corals of 
greenish or yellowish brown — each a miniature coral 
atoll in itself, depressed like a plate in the centre, with 
raised edges crested by the lip-lipping of the light ripples 
brimming around their furrowed rims. Brownish masses 
of disintegrating coral and dull fragments of limestone 
rock strew the sandy bottom, from which the fierce solar 
heat which has been storing here all the sultry noontide 
is radiating upward. Now is the time for a hot salt- 
water bath for those who prize the luxury, but beware ! 
Bathers with fresh cuts or unhealed scratches^will suffer 
a fiery penance. 

ASHORE ! is the word. The squall is coming droning 
up from the westward. Hastily we haul our craft high 
up on the sand and dive into the friendly shelter of 
a palm hut, whilst overhead patter thicker and thicker 
the rain-drops, heralds of the coming storm. 



ONE day, Chaulik's birthday I think, Nanchau made 
arrangements with some of the Wana chiefs to 
hold a feast on his island of Mutok, so as to give me the 
opportunity of getting some further historical facts from 
the old men. On the appointed day, therefore, we all went 
across the bay, leaving a couple of old women behind to 
look after the fires in the curing sheds. Our company 
was not very numerous, for two of the largest Kiti whale- 
boats had gone up the week before to the Colony along 
with King Rocha to see the Spanish Governor. However, 
some of the oldest and most influential chiefs of Roi and 
Tiati had remained, and came over with a great store of 
fruits and roots. A fatted hog, a goat, and some fowls 
were promptly slain and consigned to the earth-oven. 
Chau-Wana, our principal guest, having expressed a wish 
to eat dog, poor little Pilot, the house-cur, who insisted 
on coming from Paniau with us in the boat, is straight- 
way doomed to death, the sentence being ruthlessly 
carried out by three strokes of a heavy club in the hands 
of young Master Warren Kehoe. Pilot's funeral oration 
was of the briefest — " Pilot no good," says Chaulik, " him 
no fight, no catch pig, ugly little dog, very cross all time. 
Before, him steal meat ; now we eat him, son of a gun." 
And eaten he was every bit, sure enough, to the great satis- 
faction of Chau-Wana and the old men. I contented myself 
with a lump of goat's flesh and a piece of lean pork, in lieu 
of a hind leg of the canine victim and a huge mass of the 
pig's fat proffered with ceremony in a lordly dish. There 


were plenty of yams boiled and baked, breadfruits plain 
and preserved, plantains and bananas roasted and raw, 
cooked tubers of taro, and cakes of arrowroot and coconut 
cream, with a dessert of roasted sprouting nuts. There was 
also corned beef and ship's biscuit, and a plentiful brew 
of tea and preserved milk. But for fear the meal should 
take on too much of the appearance of a Sunday-school 
picnic, a small demijohn of red wine was broached, and 
subsequently plenty of kava-root was brought in and 
pounded solemnly. Occupying the post of honour, with 
Nalik and Nanchau on my left and Chau-Wana on my 
right, I did my best to enliven the company with a 
running fire of chaff. A toast to Queen Wikitolia, her 
ships at sea and her soldiers on land, produced great 
enthusiasm, but I really fear we forgot to remember the 
Spaniards. Which was ungrateful. However, things went 
merrily enough. Rising to the humour of the situation, 
I bestowed the title upon Chau-Wana of the " King of 
Hearts " — a monarch with whom the Ponapeans, thanks 
to card-playing American skippers, are perfectly familiar. 
It was good to see these solemn and sententious folk 
unbending into mirth with such good grace, sinking all 
private grievances as cleverly as Christians at a public 
dinner, or rival politicians at a private one. The lips of 
the silent were unsealed, the shy took heart of grace, the 
sulky grew affable, and dull men waxed witty. Songs 
and lively tales went round, and aged men, the last to 
find their tongues, kept me busy scribbling. Offers of 
service assaulted my hearing on every hand. " I can show 
you all the good fishing spots," cries one. " And I know 
the names and virtues (manaman) of every plant and 
tree on the hills," says another. " My uncle has a pretty 
daughter," cuts in a frivolous third. " I can tell you star 
names, and I can bring you stone axe-heads," declares a 
fourth putting in his say. In a flash I nail him to his 
word. " Listen, boys," said I, " old shell-axes lying under- 
ground will neither clothe nor feed you, nor will they 


yield you the black tobacco you like so much. Set to 
then, I pray you, and dig up these axes, fear not the 
spirits of folk dead and gone. Behold, he that brings me 
an old axe of shell shall receive a new axe of steel." 

A speech that next day brought me five of them. In 
the dark night cheerily rang out songs in chorus until 
the sober moon swam up over the tree-tops. The King 
of Hearts at last rose with tottering legs to take his 
leave, and was tenderly escorted down to the wharf, and 
put on board his canoe. " It is strange, indeed," quoth 
he, " how stiff my old legs get when the dews of night 
are falling. Twenty years ago it was not so." The 
guests disperse with cordial adieus, and another pleasant 
merrymaking has rolled away with the kava that inspired 
it far into the Ewig-keit of mortal things. 

The effects of kava have been noticed ; now for the 
moving cause. 

The plant from which this national beverage is made is 
pretty well known to the public from the description 
given in several South Sea books of travel. It is one of 
the Piperacece, with the pendulous flower-catkins of its 
kind, broad, deep-green, veined leaves, and spotted stalks 
knotted at regular intervals like those of the bamboo. 
It is the Chakau or Choko of Ponape, the Seka of Kusaie, 
the Namoluk of the New Hebrides, the Yangona of Fiji, 
and the Kava or Ava of the south-western Polynesians. 
Botanists term it the Piper Methysticum or Intoxica- 
ting Pepper. The modes of preparation are various. In 
Samoa, by the chewing of the Aualuma or bevy of village 
girls. In Tonga, Fiji and Ponape, by pounding between 
flat stones. In Samoa, however, nowadays, the ruminating 
process so horrifying to English readers and certain over- 
squeamish early voyagers has given place in the civilised 
districts to grating. It is styled the nasty root and the 
accursed liqiwr by certain good and worthy missionaries 
whose convictions are sometimes sturdier than their 
charity. The symptoms, however, which follow an over- 


dose of kava by no means coincide with the accepted 
notions of intoxication. The head remains perfectly clear, 
but the legs sometimes suffer a sort of temporary par- 
alysis. This, however, as with tea, coffee and alcohol, is 
only the punishment which, under a wise law of Nature, 
the abuse or excessive use of any of her precious elixirs 
bears with it. Abusus non tollit usum. 

There is a closely allied species widely distributed, 
which the Yap people variously call Langil, Thlangil 
or Gabui, the Marianne folk Pupul-en-aniti, the Mar- 
quesans Kavakava-atua, the Samoans Ava-ava-aitu, and 
the Tahitians Avaava-atua. This is the plant whose 
leaves supply the wrapper of the fruit of the betel or areca 
palm, extensively used as a chew in the Malayan area, 
of which Yap and the Mariannes are the outposts. 
Strangely enough Yap, where kava drinking is not, 
has kept the old Polynesian word in a recognisable 
form ; whereas in Ponape and Kusaie, where there are 
two varieties of areca palm {Katai and Kotop) growing 
in great plenty in the highlands, betel-nut chewing is 
not in vogue, and kava drinking is. Yet the Ponapeans 
and Kusaians have lost or tabued the old Polynesian word, 
and adopted one which, to say the least of it, offers a 
curious resemblance to the Japanese Saka or Sake, which 
in that tongue denotes strong liquor in general, and a 
weak rice-spirit in particular. Unfortunately I had not 
the chance of visiting the basaltic islands in the great 
lagoon of Hogolu or Ruk, where I am told both the 
kava and the areca palm grow. I might thus have deter- 
mined once and for all whether these Caroline natives are 
kava drinkers or betel-nut chewers. 

It seems highly probable that kava drinking was a 
logical development of betel-nut chewing ; the betel-nut 
kernel itself, even when mixed with the chunam or lime, 
being a somewhat inert substance. Doubtless the natives, 
who are great botanists, and, up to a certain point, most 
logical and analytic observers, very early saw that it was 


in the kava plant leaf that the pleasing qualities of the 
national quid lay embosomed. If the leaf was good, 
doubtless the root was better. Perhaps some scientific 
Curtius flung himself into the gulf or rather gulp, with a 
thirst for knowledge and the reward of knowledge ; or 
else some slave was called in and set to work upon por- 
tions of the root or a decoction of the same, probably not 
without some protest from within. The slave would pre- 
sently fall into a blessed swound, and wake up next day 
bright and refreshed, with a dim remembrance of blissful 
dreams, coloured of course by his own personality, and 
interpreted in accordance with his peculiar capacity 
for decorative lying. On all-fours with this are their 
curious traditions about the origin of the kava, one 
of which declares that Cherri-chou-lang, or the Little 
Angel from Heaven, in pity for mankind and their woes, 
dropped a piece down to earth from the Celestial board ; 
and the other telling us how a mighty magician of old 
raked up the wondrous root with his Irar or magic staff, 
and made his memory blessed. 

The ceremony of kava making, already referred to 
twice or thrice, is as follows. The Nach or Council- 
Lodge is the scene of operations. On the raised platform 
above, the king or principal district-chief used to sit with 
the Chaumaro or high priests on his left hand, their 
long hair all ashine with uchor or scented oil, dressed in 
their mol or kilts of split coconut-filaments dyed orange 
with the juice of the Morinda, ceremonially styled the 
Kiri-kei. The lesser chiefs and commons sat around at a 
respectful distance. On the ground below were ranged 
several roundish pieces of basaltic stone resembling 
broad shallow plates. Around these squatted the kava 
makers, their stone pestles swaying and ringing in 
sonorous rhythm as they pounded up the pieces of 
tough root into mere masses of trash. The root, be 
it observed, is neither dried in the sun as in south- 
western Polynesia, nor carefully washed with water. The 


latter ceremony, they say, spoils the flavour and weakens 
the strength. 

By and by the Ant or ancestral spirits are supposed 
to be present, with Icho-Lumpoi and Nan-ul-lap, the 
demon lords of the festive hall. Water is poured in, 
and the first cupful is squeezed out from the strainer of 
Kalau fibres. Taking the cup in his hand, the chief of 
the Chaumaro, not without blinking and shivering and 
other signs of demoniac possession, mutters a charm for 
the spirits to take their place, sips a little from the cup, 
and pours out a drink-offering to the invisible guests. 
Then the bowl is offered to the king. It is customary 
for the recipient to stand off and keep declining the 
draught for a minute or two, a peculiar ceremony never 
omitted. At one of our dinner-parties it would certainly 
sorely mortify a good old British butler, and probably 
lead him to take the unfortunate guest at his word. 
To seize the proffered cup and forthwith drain it to 
the dregs would be considered by Ponapeans the act 
of a hopeless churl. Again, the drinker never swallows 
more than about half the contents, unlike the Samoans, 
who finish the bowl in one long pull. One night I sprang 
a Samoan custom on the people of Chau-Icho in Kiti 
which rather tickled the assembly. In Atua on Eastern 
Upolu, where they often drink the kava made from green 
and immature roots, the Samoans put two or three small 
red chili-peppers into the strainer along with the pounded 
root. The Ponapeans thought it a strange innovation, 
but as usual curiosity carried the day, and no less than 
six of the pungent fruits were slipped into the strainer, 
and a venerable patriarch, ugly as traditional sin, eagerly 
stretched out his hand for the first taste. The effect was 
instantaneous. The little red pepper-pods had indeed 
made their presence felt. 

" Too muchee hot — makum feel down here all same 
fire," gasped out the poor old gentleman, beating the air 
around him, arms flapping hard to catch his breath, tears 


streaming from his eyes, and his face screwed all on one 
side like a turbot's at the first taste of that potent brew. 
The paroxysm once past, he soon forgot his woes in a 
stick of black tobacco. Every man then took a little of 
the stuff, but with more caution, amongst them the Teacher 
of New Things, who with unmoved countenance supped 
up a good half- pint. Then there ran around the 
lodge a low murmuring hum of " Akai ! Akari ! See what 
it is, brethren, to cross the great sea." " Lo, the white 
man is even as one of us," quoth another ancient. And 
then the world went right merrily. 

Now, with regard to the kava, which has found such 
an army of detractors, one mistaken impression shall here 
be dispelled. Travellers in Pacific waters have declared 
that the kava resembles soap-suds in taste ; but that must 
be only the dulness of their spiritual perceptions. Now 
this is a base libel on a noble root. The aroma is that of 
mingled ginger and nutmeg, with a soupcon of black pep- 
per, and an undefinable waft of the fragrance of green tea 
running through it. If people will drink more than three 
large cupfuls, as even Ponapeans sometimes do, they have 
only themselves to thank if, as the classic Glabrio says, 
one leg struggles south while the other is marching due 
north. If, again, the white trader insists on mixing good 
kava and bad gin, he has simply to face the consequences. 
But this gives the Prohibitionists no right to rail against a 
valuable medicine, of whose best and innermost qualities 
they are presumably ignorant. The members of Catholic 
orders do not often make so silly a mistake. Beer, whisky 
and wine, or other alcoholic compounds, are strictly to be 
avoided on these occasions as incompatible with what 
Lloyd Osbourne defines as the true kava frame of mind. 
If these simple and useful instructions are disregarded, 
as the writer has no doubt they will be, the innocent 
kava root cannot be held answerable. Into the hands 
of the doctors I commend it. They may blend it as they 
will, but let it not fall into the clutches of Exeter Hall. 


To the thoughtless reveller, the kava-bowl is in itself 
an end, to the philosopher a means of catching at some 
floating thread of tradition to weave into the fabric of his 
theme, be it folk-lore, history, or ethnology. To the ex- 
pansive influence of those social gatherings I am indebted 
for many curious legends, and this is one of therm 

Laponga was a High Priest of old in Metalanim. It 
was he who sat at the left hand of the first Chau-te-Leur 
king ; it was he who first tasted the kava, and he who 
uttered the first uinani or magic spell invoking the pre- 
sence of Nan-Ul-Lap, chief of the Ani or local genii, who 
love to be honoured when the feast and the dances are 
the order of the day in the Great Lodge. The second 
man in the land, the keeper of the king's conscience, as it 
were his father-confessor, he sat in the Place of Council ; 
his unshorn locks streaming below his girdle after the 
manner of his ancient caste, crowned with the yellowing 
leaves of the Dracaena, his Patkul or shell-axe crooked 
obliquely over his shoulder, and his carved Irar or magic 
staff laid close at hand ; in his fingers a bundle of leaves 
of Alek, the native reed-grass traditionally used in casting 
lots. Such was the wizard, and such his estate. And he 
was wise beyond the wisdom of all men, but his love for 
his fellows tallied not therewith. For his heart was cold, 
and he ever delighted in mischief and ill pleasantries, and 
would wander at times over the land in all manner of 
strange animal shapes working his evil will. In one of 
his freaks in the form of a Lukot or native owl, he took to 
wife one of the Likat-en-ual or nymphs of the forest. 
Numerous was their progeny, and the hanging woods of 
the lofty island were filled with beings endowed with 
human utterance, who could change from bird into human 
form at will. In process of time, as mortal men are wont, 
Laponga grew weary of his fairy queen, and would have 
taken to wife a high-born lady of the Court. The children 
of the forest knew of it, and it came to pass that whenever 
the great magician took his walks abroad the woods re- 


sounded with the cry " Ipa y Ipa" which being translated 
signifieth " Papa, Papa? In great wrath at this interrup- 
tion of his meditations the great man turned, like the 
bald-headed prophet of another tale, and with a solemn 
imprecation took away from them human utterance and 
shape for ever, and left them birds. 

Then in a twinkling a strange Babel broke out in the 
forest glades. The injured children ceased not calling 
out upon their unnatural parent, each as his peculiar vocal 
organs gave him utterance. The Kaualik or blue heron 
croaked out " Ko" " Kau" " Kau" the doves, after their 
kind, murmured " Murrorroi" " Kin-uet-uet" and " King- 
king" and the brown parrakeet broke out into inarticulate 
chirpings " Cherrerretret" ; the small sea-bird with black and 
white tail feathers could only scream out hoarsely " Che- 
a-a-ok." The other birds could utter nothing but doleful 
and woeful screeches. Some went away into the deep 
bush and let themselves out in very spite as tenements 
{ta-n-waar) to the wood-demons there, and still delight at 
times to afflict human settlements with their ill-omened 
voices pouring forth songs of impending death and doom 
in the stillness of the night. The blue heron went out on 
the salt marshes and the edges of the reef, where he stalks 
about to-day in mournful dignity picking up little fish and 
crabs. All day long the Murroi or grey dove wails for her 
lost voice in the woods, like Philomel of Grecian legend ; 
the Cherret twitters round the coco-blossoms, whilst the 
Kulu or sandpiper, with his elder brother the Chakir, wail 
dismally over the sandy flats, the shingle, and the coral 
limestone. But one small bird, more persistent than its 
fellows, pursued Laponga on his way and so deafened 
him with its angry twittering that growing weary he 
turned about and loosed a fresh curse upon the head of 
his hapless offspring. Thus ran Laponga's imprecation : — 

" May your head turn round and round when man 
casts a stone at you, that you may fall at their feet from 
very dizziness, and men shall bake you in the oven for 


their meat. This, I say, whenever the hungry wanderer 

does as I do now ." With these words he chased 

away the wretched fowl with showers of pebbles. 

And so it happens to this day with the generations of 
little brown birds in the inland bush, that whenever one 
throws a stone in their direction, whether he hit or miss, 
down they come fluttering to the ground, helpless and 
paralysed. And the name of the bird is Li-ma' aliel-en- 
takai or Miss-giddy-at-stones. 

And Laponga's miracles held men's minds in awe, for 
he did many notable deeds. The record of his sorceries 
and of the manifold knaveries he wrought, is it not set 
down in the lost book of the annals of the Kings of 
Metalanim ? After Laponga's death, from which his arts 
could not protect him, his head was changed into stone, and 
lies unto this day right in the middle of the water-way be- 
tween the islets of Pan-ilel and Tapau. The tale must be 
true, for there is the very stone. And well we know it, for 
we collided sharply with it one low tide, and all but caved 
in the bows of our canoe ; keeping the Manilla man busy 
enough for some minutes alternately bailing, and praying 
to the saints, until we beached her and fixed up the leak. 

Nanchau and I paddle, a day or two after the kava 
party, over to Mutok from Paniau to view the labours of 
three old ladies left in charge of the house on the beach, 
who were engaged in making fish-oil. With this strong- 
scented product of native industry the Ponapean islander 
loves to smear himself on state occasions. The process 
begins by breaking up a quantity of full-grown coconuts 
and scraping down their kernels. 

The instrument used is a billet of wood, over which the 
native throws his leg to keep it steady. It is fitted with 
a wedge-shaped piece of metal, toothed like a hackle at 
the broad end. A segment of nut is pressed against these 
teeth, and a rapid twirling motion in the hands brings off 
shavings fine as feathers. 

It is in this way that the Ungitete is produced. It 


is then put into a Kachak or low oblong vessel of reddish- 
brown wood like a whale-boat pointed at both ends. 
Next a number of strings of dried fish-heads are lowered 
from the ceiling, where they have been mouldering for 
weeks amongst clouds of flies and mosquitoes in order to 
ripen into prime condition. The names of the kinds of 
fishes most in request for this use are Pakach, Toik, 
Tomarak, Mak, and Wakap — names as sweet in sound as 
in savour. Without any sign of disrelish, these ghastly relics 
are one by one carefully chewed up by these venerable 
dames, and then ejected into the vessel of coconut 
scrapings. They sit solemnly ruminating, placid as cows 
chewing the cud in meadow, and the gruesome mass of 
disintegrated fish-heads steadily grows and grows. 

When the arduous task of mastication is over, the whole 
nasty mess is submitted to a squeezing and kneading pro- 
cess, in order that the scraped nut and broken fish may 
unite their fullest virtues, and the stuff is taken outside 
to be put in the sun for a few days before the resulting 
oil is pressed out into small calabashes or glass bottles, 
where it is stored ready for use. It goes without saying 
that numerous hungry dogs, fowls, and cats watch all 
these proceedings with the deep interest of a starving 
man viewing a Lord Mayor's banquet. But not one 
fragment of savoury stock-fish, not one silvery flake of 
coconut ever reaches those watering mouths. The workers 
keep watch like witches round their gruesome brew. For 
the fish-oil of Kiti, like the mats of Chokach and the 
sponges of Paliker, and the yams of Metalanim, is far too 
precious a local product to be lightly lost. 



JUST about this time, I remember, King Rocha came 
over to see us, and formally took off a tabu that 
had been laid on the coconuts on the island. On this 
occasion we organised an attack on the coconut-crabs, 
digging them out of their burrows and slaying numbers. 
A few days after we went down coast to a great feast 
given by Nanchau-Rerren at Annepein-Paliet. 

Towards the middle of September the stock of biscuit 
and canned food began to run short in camp. The marine 
creatures preserved in spirits, after a prolonged spell of hot 
and damp weather, called earnestly for a fresh supply of 
alcohol. Therefore, Chaulik, Kaneke, his cousin Nanchom 
and I, on a beautiful starlit evening (September 20), de- 
termined to run up to the Colony for a few days' change 
of scene to obtain the sorely-needed supplies, and pay 
our respects to the Governor. We launched a canoe, and 
soon found ourselves across close inshore to Nantamarui. 
Cautiously poling over the flats and through the narrow 
channels in the salt-water brush, we reached Nantiati just 
as the moon rose over a wild and picturesque scene, light- 
ing up league upon league of hill and valley, and a filagree 
network of twining creeper, the forest-line trending down- 
wards till lost in the dark and eerie zone of mangroves 
which rustle around us, dipping their long forked root- 
sprays into the muddy water like the claws of famished 
spectres groping for their prey. A wild half-light is stir- 
ring amidst a world of flickering shadows. 

We land at the little cluster of huts by the waterway 
where an old ex- whaler dwells, a native of Tahiti, whom 



destiny has wafted into these remote northern waters. 
We had an hour to wait for the rising of the tide, so 
telling the boys to snatch what brief repose they might, 
I took a stroll outside with the old fellow to examine a 
pile of enormous basalt slabs like a heap of colossal 
ninepins shadowing the still canal in the silvery moon- 
light. The most striking prism of all measures twelve 
feet in length. It has six sides or faces each measuring 
three feet. One end seems to have been rudely chipped 
into the semblance of a human head. I thought at first 
I should actually make out the features, but alas, my fancy 
was not lively enough. Another ponderous mass almost 
as long is resting by the water-side on top of two rugged 
blocks, for all the world like a giant club. It recalls the 
huge fragment topping the pile of half-submerged blocks 
near the Nan-Moluchai breakwater. 

I could find no local tradition to explain who laid these 
great masses of stone in place. Less fortunate than Sarung 
Sakti and Lidah Pait, the magic artificers of the Passumah 
monoliths in Sumatra, these early engineers have passed 
away and their very names are lost. 

At sea again, about midnight, we found ourselves off 
Mai Island, the abode of an old Metalanim chief called 
Nanapei, no relation of the chief of Ronkiti. The chief of 
Mai has some years past vowed a deadly vengeance on 
the head of a Captain N., the trader in Ascension Bay, 
of which that astute gentleman is perfectly well aware. 
Indeed he told me on board the Venus how mortally he 
had offended the Metalanim insurgents by piloting the 
Spanish cruisers of a punitive expedition into Oa Harbour 
in 1886. 

The reader will remember that some months previously 
old King Absolute had strictly forbidden me to explore 
or even visit these parts again. Therefore we were re- 
visiting these spots at some degree of personal risk. 

We are once more in the heart of Nan-Matal, thread- 
ing the labyrinth of narrow canals intersecting the rows 


of walled islets of the water-town. We pass Peikap, 
Chaok, Tapau, and Nan-Pulok, catching stray glimpses 
of massive masonry looming up dark and imposing 
behind the waving screen of jungle, a vivid contrast of 
shifting lights and shadows. All is as fair as a dream, 
all as unreal. Even the cicalas are still. A deep hush, 
broken only by the bark of some distant watch-dog, 
the sough of the night-wind amongst the sedges, and 
the lapping of the bubbling waters under our keel plough- 
ing on through the gloomy solitudes, the theatre of a 
vanished civilisation. We have passed the mouth of the 
great harbour ; the islet of Mutakaloch, with its cellular 
basalt formation is left behind. Under full sail we 
double the headland of Aru, and are slipping merrily 
across a broad bight with the unsurveyed wilderness of 
the U highlands and the peak of Kupuricha looking 
down upon us. Just as the dawn breaks we find our- 
selves amongst wide stretching beds of Olot or sea-grass 
in very shoal water, close to our journey's end, off the 
dominions of Lap-en-Not, with the tide running rapidly 
out. Whilst wading in the shallows, pushing our boat 
ahead over the flats, we caught sight of several black 
and white sea-snakes coiled up in the weeds. After 
several unsuccessful attempts one was hooked on board, 
and after a stout resistance slipped into the alcohol bottle. 
As soon as we managed to struggle clear of the shoals 
we put across to Langar, a favourite port of call on these 
expeditions. Our kind and hospitable friend Captain 
Weilbacher receives us with the usual cordiality of 
Germans trading in these waters. Ahmed, the Malay 
cook, is sent out to dig " Inchang" a species of blue 
and white crayfish, of a flavour yet unknown to London 
epicures, and found on the mud-flats at low tide. Poor 
Ahmed is in the wars. He has taken to himself a Not 
wife ; she is not very beautiful and she is not by any 
means an agreeable spouse, but forcibly asserts her inde- 
pendence and treats her meek and all but uncomplaining 


lord and master as a nonentity. A true Ponapean virago, 
when angry she would vigorously pull at his straight and 
bristly crop of hair. The single native women were 
hugely tickled to find so determined a champion of 
Woman's Rights amongst them, and rare sport they 
promised themselves when their turn came. 

The mid-day meal ended, we launched out and were 
soon over in Santiago. We first visited the principal 
store, our base of supplies. Having duly collogued with 
Captain N. and various priests and officers there assembled, 
we marched up hill to pay our respects to the Governor, 
who seemed glad to see us again. The new medical officer 
of the station appeared, and proceeded to ask some ques- 
tions upon the botany of the various districts. Without 
delay I reported numerous cases of influenza and low fever 
in the Kiti and Metalanim districts. As I expected, the 
kind-hearted medico promptly offered to put up useful 
medicines which I was to distribute on my return, which 
of course I readily agreed to do. He also promised me as 
much alcohol as he could afford, and agreeing to meet him 
at lunch next day, I went across that evening to Kubary's 
house at Mpompo, near the waterfall. Three days soon 
pass by, the boys working wonderfully well in packing up 
and securely stowing away the curios ready for my long 
sea voyage back to civilisation via Yap. For my stay is 
drawing to a close. Yet my Ponapean friends, in true 
native fashion — careful to put any untoward idea or 
thought aside — seem hardly to realise it. 

On the morning of the 26th, Chaulik, dreading the 
wrath of his uncle Nanchau, and bethinking him of the 
short rations in Paniau, strongly urges our return. 
Therefore, after several short delays, we set sail from 
the Colony. The canoe was already fairly well laden, 
but some fateful fancy seized Kaneke that he would 
like to get a cross-cut saw out of the earnings which he, 
like a prudent lad, had been carefully saving up for the 
last two months. Nothing would serve us but to visit 


the German branch store at Chau-inting, close by the 
headland of Not. So the little craft, what with this and 
that article declared indispensable, is loaded down to the 
very gunwale. Meanwhile the sun is westering more and 
more. Loosing thence we pass Langar, Parram, and the 
two Mants. Tapak is well behind us, and we are skim- 
ming along under full sail, the canoe running very deep 
in the water, with a man on the outrigger to keep her 
steady. Suddenly, without a note of warning, a gust of 
wind sweeps down from the distant mountain gorges. 
Mast and sail collapse, the canoe turns turtle, and we 
find ourselves soused in some fifty feet of water in the 
Nalam-en-Pokoloch pool, the deepest hole along the 
coast, and reputed to be the lurking-place of sharks and 
sea-monsters innumerable. We discover ourselves in a 
tight position, two miles off a scantily-inhabited fore- 
shore, with no fishing canoes anywhere to lend us aid, 
and the short twilight fast fading away. When we right 
the canoe she is hopelessly waterlogged, and all but sink- 
ing. Pushing her before us we swim on, and on, and on in 
the gathering gloom, each man expecting every moment 
to find the sharks nuzzling at his toes, or the icy grip 
of some monster cuttle-fish's tentacles closing round his 
ankles. Here and there the darkling waters around and 
below us flash with the luminous body of some swiftly- 
circling denizen of the deep, but if sharks they be, they 
pass us by unnoticed. Kaneke unselfishly begs me to 
climb on to the outrigger and leave to him and his two 
comrades all the hard work and hidden dangers from 
below, and is quite vexed when his offer is rejected. 
And such is the patience and perseverance of my brave 
boys that at last we reach one of those isolated stacks of 
coral, reaching up to three or four feet of the surface in 
certain places in the wide lagoon. Here, after a brief 
rest, we make shift to bail our craft empty of water, and 
find that our losses are not so great after all as far as 
provisions are concerned. Some of the tinned meats are 


gone, an umbrella has floated off into the darkness, and 
alas ! saddest loss of all, Kaneke's long-desired cross-cut 
saw has gone down into the depths beyond reach or ken of 
diver. " Never mind," says the cheery Chaulik, who has 
a mangled text of scripture for every emergency, " cast 
your lead upon the waters and you shall find it after 
many days." A little later on, when Nanchom is bewail- 
ing the soaking of our store of biscuit by the salt water, 
Chaulik is not wanting to the occasion, and again proffers 
consolation. " It's all right. Man shall not live by bread 
alone." Laying in the paddles with a will, the draggled 
party with undamped spirits ploughs along steadily, mast 
and sail safely stowed for fear of going faster and faring 
worse. Late at night we draw in towards the north side of 
Aru Island, which lies just on the borders of U and Metal- 
anim. Opetaia {Obadiah) lives here in the bosom of his 
family, the same comical old native teacher who, it will 
be remembered, paid me a visit in my dearly-hired house 
at Lot, some four months before. We were received 
with all the attention usually extended to unfortunate 
mariners ; dry clothes were supplied us, and after a 
good supper and some hot grog, which Obadiah and his 
son eagerly shared with us, we made ourselves extremely 
comfortable. After looking at some Mortlock curios, which 
our host pressed upon us in unwonted exhilaration, we fell 

The next morning is Sunday, no Obadiah visible. 
He has gone ashore early to attend his devotions. As 
the day wears on a boy comes off shore in a canoe with 
his face all one broad grin, with the news that the Machikau 
church-folk on the mainland are scrimmaging together like 
demons, and breaking each other's heads in the liveliest 
fashion. We do not put into Machikau, having had our 
fill of excitement for the present, and bidding farewell to 
our hosts, pursue our way, heartily devoting the contend- 
ing parties to the fate of the Kilkenny cats. By and by, 
when we find a couple of bottles of spirits missing — laid 


in strictly for medical purposes — grievous suspicions fall 
on Obadiah and his fellow-deacons. With the hopes of 
clearing up this question we put in at Matup, a little 
further down the coast, the residence of the Nock, the next 
Metalanim chieftain in rank to King Paul, or heir-presump- 
tive to that monarch's slippery throne, for this religious 
maniac has no children and no prospect of any. 

It had been told me that the Noch held Europeans in 
disfavour, and myself in particular ill-will from the recent 
outbreak of influenza in the tribe, which many of the folk 
took for the outpouring of the wrath of Icho-Kalakal and 
the " Ani" at the letting in of the light of day on their 
time-honoured sanctuary. Therefore I thought it would 
be as well to pay a visit frankly, interview him, and gain 
his confidence. 

We go straight up to the Council Lodge, and are kept 
waiting some while for the chief. His eldest son, how- 
ever, a bright little boy of about seven or eight, climbs on 
my knee in most friendly fashion. By and by in comes 
the Noch with a beaming countenance. Some trick of 
Fortune has evidently turned in our favour. 

Cordially shaking hands he unburdens his mind after 
the following manner in a dialect abounding in double 
and treble consonants. For the benefit of those unversed 
in primitive and analytic languages I will give the naive 
literal translation sentence by sentence, together with the 
conventional English expressions. 

Well, white man. Hail ! O white-face. 

You've surprised King Paul Their honourable intellects 
and his folk this time with and the little minds of their 
a vengeance. flock will now soon be 

tangled up like a ball of 

They've just sent me word Swift the words have come 
along shore to me shouted from mouth 

to mouth along villages on 

the coast, 



That you have been making 
Obadiah the deacon and 
other church members very 
vilely drunk. 

Moreover, there has been 
a free fight in church. 

All the teachers and the 
congregation vow that the 
King shall know it. 
The King will be pretty 
wild about it. 

But the cream of the joke 

Obadiah entered the church 

Service was nearly over, an- 
other man was in the pulpit. 

Obadiah interrupted him 
repeatedly with insulting 

And kept continually grum- 
bling that he could preach 
a better sermon himself. 

Says the preacher in pos- 
session : " Turn him out." 

And to weary the reader no 

That you have made strong 
drink to trickle down the 
throat of the peoples' shep- 
herd Obadiah, and the 
throats of the men of heaven, 
and their minds are changed 
to those of swine. 
And the Pel-charaui {i.e. 
sacred precinct) has been 
even as a field of battle. 
The shepherds and the 
heaven-destined flock say, 
They shall be told. 
Their wrath will smoke like 
an oven when it is opened. 
One thing make laugh, make 
laugh very much : 
Obadiah he come in, he walk 
this way, that way, see-saw. 
Obadiah come very late ; one 
man go upstairs — talk, talk, 
talk — preach, preach, preach 
— teach, teach, teach. 
Obadiah he break him talk 
— all time ask him what his 
father, what his mother — 
all same fool. 
All time he go " Ngar, 
Ngar, Ngar" all same 
woman, and he say " He 
no preach good. Me preach 
very good." 

Words floated down from 
the lips of the eloquent 
man above : " Help that 
rude fellow to go forth." 
more with pidgin English, 


the congregation was in an uproar, each party manfully 
upholding their favourite. Knives were brought into play, 
and blood flowed freely from some ugly gashes, as each 
man pitched into his neighbour. It was the counterpart 
of the famous fray in the loft described in the " Pickwick 
Papers," in which the Rev. Mr Stiggins took such a 
vehement and unexpected part. Obadiah suffered the 
fate of Stiggins after a most obstinate resistance, and 
was consigned to a cool and dark apartment to meditate 
in seclusion on his sins and his bruises. 

The NSch is much amused when we detail our ex- 
periences at Aru, but advises us in future not to rely too 
much on the saintly professions of church members. 
" I'm one myself," says he, " but I think the Old Man at 
Tomun goes too far in his notions. For instance," he 
continues, " when a man wishes to marry a wife he has to 
work three weeks for the King before he gets permission, 
and has to pay the teacher who marries him a good stiff 
sum. There are more churches than plantations in the 
tribe, and there are no end of worrisome little laws and 
restrictions. You mustn't go out for a sail on Sunday, you 
mustn't drink wine, even in moderation, you mustn't smoke, 
you mustn't do a good many other things you would like 
to do, and all for the sake of an old man who grumbles 
all day long and never gives a civil word to anybody. 

" The King doesn't like white men at all, and he 
and David Lumpoi are trying to set the tribe against 
you, and, of course, his people have to do what he 
tells them. The white men haven't always used us 
well, and, not knowing you, we thought you were like 
the rest of them. Lately, however, some of my men who 
have met you at different times told me of the interest 
you take in collecting our old stories, and in bottling 
lizards, spiders, and such like. Such work does us no 
harm, and gives the boys and girls a chance of earning 
money honestly. Therefore, my people and I in thinking 
ill of you were in the wrong. Now you and I understand 


each other, and I shall treat you as a friend and guest. I 
am very pleased to see the young chiefs who are with 
you, and have no doubt they are helping you well in your 
work. When you go home you will tell the Chaumaro 
Akan, or wise men of Britain, that Ponape people are not 
all cannibals and pirates or wild men of the woods, but 
have white hearts though their skins are dark." 

Whilst this somewhat lengthy conversation is going on 
dinner is being got ready. In good time the ovens are 
opened, and we are soon deep amongst the yams and 
taro of Matup. The Noch drinks Spanish wine with 
great zest but strict moderation, as becomes a gentle- 
man and a chief. With oriental hospitality he pressed 
us to stay a day or two, but bethinking us of our people 
on Paniau eking out their scanty commons and impatiently 
looking for our return, we determined to push on, and 
dropped down coast with the tide that very afternoon. We 
are running merrily across the roughish waters of Middle 
Harbour, with the quaint sugar-loaf peak of Takai-U shoot- 
ing up before us, and are slipping past the island of Tomun 
where the king has his Tanipatch or regal dwelling. Not 
without anxiety we view the rapid approach of a boat 
manned by five of Paul Ichipau's myrmidons, pulling 
their very hardest in chase. We lower sail and let them 
come alongside. It turns out that they have orders to 
carry us bound into the presence of King Paul for the 
appalling crime of sailing on a Sunday. But we are four 
to their five, and three of us are Kiti men, a tribe which 
has given Metalanim some very hard knocks in time past. 
So their summons to surrender being greeted with derision, 
and seeing us resolute on self-defence paddle in hand, 
they turned peacefully back, receiving meekly some highly 
uncomplimentary messages to their worshipful ruler. We 
do not loiter about here for fear of the rascals swarming 
out on us in superior force, but holding on our way, once 
more enter the labyrinth of Nan-Matal with lively antici- 
pations of possible rifle-shots singing out of the dense 


masses of greenery on every side. We pass Uchentau 
and leave a message for Alek, my cunning carver in 
native woods, and on past the walled islets of Peikap, 
Pan-Katara, and Nikonok, and last of all Pon-Kaim, 
which lies on the extreme end of the Kaim or inner 
angle of the great enclosure. Here the bottom of the 
waterway is strewn with basalt blocks, some of great size, 
and some caution is needful in picking our way past and 
over these rocky barriers. Finally emerging from this 
wonderful system of walled islets we pass over the shallow 
flats below the little hill settlement of Leak, and work our 
way down to the sand-spit of Pikanekit where twenty or 
thirty friendly natives are domiciled under a worthy old 
chief named Echekaia (Hezekiah). At this place we are to 
pick up Kaneke's wife Lilian and her baby boy who are 
down here on a visit. A very stormy night comes on, 
and we are glad to break our voyage. Next morning 
dawns raw and dismal. The temperature has fallen, the 
sky is black with tempest, the palm trees are bending and 
swaying in the stream of a lively gale, and sending down 
their nuts rolling and rebounding like balls on the sward. 
A thick grey veil blurs the distant hill-slopes, the brook 
at the door is in freshet, and a streaming downpour of 
rain is pattering on a drenched and draggled creation. 
A huge iron pot, the relic of some calling whaler, is on 
the fire, wherein a mixture of fowl and rice and floury 
yam is seething away merrily. After breakfast the weather 
shows no sign of clearing up, and the gale, if anything, 
blows a thought harder. So we determine to push on — 
dividing our party into two canoes for fear of a second 
accident — for the sea is rough and the cases heavy. The 
good old chief supplies us with a second canoe, on which 
Nanaua, with Hezekiah's little boy and myself embark. 
The larger craft, with most of the cargo, carries Kaneke, 
Chaulik, Nanchom, Lilian and baby. The result proves 
the wisdom of our plans. Both canoes, after some narrow 
escapes of upsetting, after much rude buffeting from wind 


and wave, ultimately reach their destination. A pig pur- 
chased from Hezekiah shows a wild and untamed nature 
in repeated attacks on Nanaua's legs in canoe No. 2, until 
quieted with an axe-handle. 

Our friends on the little green island, with its row of 
curing-houses and huts, are anxiously looking for us, and 
help us to haul the canoes high on the sandy beach. 
Plenty reigns once more in camp. Our small woes and 
discomforts are all forgotten, a tot of grog is served out 
to all hands, dry clothes are put on, and we sit down to 
a much-needed supper of clam soup, baked fish, Irish 
stew, yams, biscuits and preserved fruits, washed down at 
stated intervals from a goodly demijohn of rough Vino 
Tinto. Amidst clouds of tobacco, Nature's boon to weary 
voyagers, plans are discussed and projects put in order. 

Next morning, September 29th, as we rise up refreshed 
from our mats, the sun is shining from a clear blue sky ; 
the tide is out and there is glorious sport with Up, with 
spear and basket amongst the reef pools, and the stock of 
bottled fishes grows larger and larger, to say nothing of 
untold basketfuls of live shells, mostly Cyprceas, buried in 
tins under the sand at high-water mark for the tide to do 
the work of washing them clean and free from all traces 
of their former occupants. Besides gathering shells, I had 
plenty to do on the mainland, to which I paid several 
further visits, and took care to distribute the medicines 
with which the good Spanish doctor had so kindly fur- 
nished me, and so two more busy weeks soon rolled by. 



THE time of my departure now drawing near Nanchau 
suggests that we go down the coast for a day or two 
to visit the settlement of Marau, where an old chief lives, 
the Au or headman of the sub-district, who will tell us 
something about the old traditions, and will besides take 
us into the interior to show us some remarkable ruins of 
an old fort called Chap-en-Takai, which is situated on a 
tableland among the mountain-slopes behind the settle- 
ment. So taking a couple of natives with us we launch 
our canoe one fine forenoon, and with a lively breeze are 
soon slipping past Roch Island, the station of Nanchau- 
Rerren of Annepein, who had lately entertained us at a 
solemn feast. Between Roch and Laiap we pass a bed of 
bright yellow sponges (Fata) showing up on a shelf about 
four feet down on the edge of a detached reef. We hold 
on our way, keeping out of the shallows as much as we 
can. The rapid growth of the coralline formations bids 
fair to speedily fill up the whole lagoon between the outer 
reef and the shore. It requires considerable local know- 
ledge to pick out the tau or deepwater passages in this 
labyrinth of shoals. A little below Laiap we meet Chaulik 
and his wife coming up from Ronkiti bringing news from 
Nanapei that the mail steamer is expected on the 19th 
instead of the 24th, and advising us not to make our 
departure too late. The breeze holds, and by and by we 
are off the mouth of the Ronkiti River close to the islet 
of Tolotik (Little Hill). Of course, as usual, we find our- 
selves stranded amongst the shallows, and have to get out 
the four of us and shoulder her across, gingerly picking 
O ,09 


our way over numerous beds of prickly corals, with which 
the detached reefs in the lagoon are thickly studded. To 
the south-west Ant Atoll stands out in a long blue line. 
Before us is a wide stretch of lagoon, down which we glide, 
every now and then fending her off the stacks of coral which 
rise within a foot or two of the surface of these variable 
depths. We catch stray glimpses of brilliant sponges and 
corals, quaint medusae and zoophytes, and of gorgeous 
fish playing in and out of these submarine forests. We 
pass three little islands to seaward, lying close to the 
barrier reef — the central one, distinguished by a few palm- 
trees springing out of it, is tenanted by one old fisherman. 
Close to Kapara is seen a rather unusual sight — a spring 
of fresh water bubbling up through the reef — a boon to 
thirsty fishing parties. A similar phenomenon occurs near 
Nei-Afu on Vavau in the Tonga group. In front of us the 
hazy blue rounded outline of Tomara is backed by the 
long wooded promontory into which the Paliker country 
runs. With the slowly-rising tide we find ourselves off 
the flats of Marau, amongst beds of seagrass, with a 
curious round bald mountain showing up in the back- 
ground. Wading along with our craft in tow we pick up 
on our leisurely way a number of cockles and a spider- 
crab of surpassing ugliness. We have to traverse a con- 
siderable stretch of thick black mud, taking us up to the 
knees at every step — by no means an uncommon thing 
in the approach to a Ponapean settlement. At last we 
reach firm ground, and are glad to take a bath in a clear, 
shallow pool, into which the rivulet watering the settle- 
ment is dammed as it pours into the salt marshes. About 
two hundred yards climb inland stands the house of the 
An, built on a high terrace of basalt blocks, some of con- 
siderable bulk, resembling greatly the dwellings of the 
Marquesan islanders standing out upon their solid paepaes 
or platforms of stone. 

A little higher, and the inland wilderness with its thick 
tangle of forest, scrub, weeds and climbing vines, shuts in 


the little village. The clearing below is occupied by 
banana and breadfruit trees and clumps of giant taro, a 
tiny portion wrested from the all-prevailing jungle by the 
patient labour of man. Around the house, Kava plants 
are flourishing with their speckled stems, broad, dark-green 
leaves, dangling catkins and spreading branches, the stalks 
bulging out every four or five inches into knotty joints. 
Masses of black rock lie scattered around carpeted with 
the little veined leaves of betel-pepper vines, climbing and 
clinging like ivy at home. A profusion of fern and plants 
of the wild ginger kind add a fresh setting of verdure and 
freshness to the woodland picture. 

The good old man receives us with great cordiality, 
for he has always been interested in the ancient history 
and folk-lore of his people. Future voyagers in Pacific 
waters should clearly understand that it is the old 
generation not the new who give their minds to these 
things. The new for the most part are in a transition 
state. They are neither good heathens nor earnest 
Christians. In this connection, and upon such a quest, 
one fine old heathen who really knows something that 
the white man hasn't taught him is worth a dozen 
paltering mediocrities who have forgotten their own 
history and swamped their identity ; whose only ideas 
are to ape their white teachers in snuffling Bible texts 
and grabbing dollars to buy cheap Manchester goods and 
white men's luxuries, which they really do not need at 

The afternoon is far advanced. In the growing dusk, 
under the influence of coffee and tobacco, the Au, whom 
we have not hurried, but left to take his own time, starts 
in first with personal reminiscences, harking back by and 
by to things of ancient date. He tells us how, many 
years ago, the supreme power over the four tribes of the 
island was held by Chokach, until a Palang chief, appro- 
priately named Chou-pei-achach (Man-fight-know-how), 
roused the people from their apathy. Kiti then began 


to be an independent power and the obstinate rival of her 
neighbour Metalanim. Some while after, on the north 
side, a portion of the Chokach folk broke away, forming 
the independent fifth tribe of Not, which seems to occupy 
in Ponapean politics the same place as the little republic 
of San Marino in those of Italy. 

Passing on to more ancient history and folk-lore, he 
told us of the arrival of a large castaway canoe from the 
south on the Paliker coast, with eight chiefs on board, who 
settled in the country. Their sounding titles were : 
Man-chai, Chiri-n-rok, Man-in-nok, Chinchich, Pairer, 
Roki, Machan and Chei-aki. 

A brief account of an ancient voyage of discovery I 
give here, in which some may see evidence of a real 
historical fact. 

" Two brethren went northward from Ponape to seek 
new lands, sailing many days in a big canoe. At length 
they saw the midnight sky red with a great blaze of fire 
as if of a million torches. In terror they turned and got 
them back to their own land again." Another account 
says that the elder brother perished, and that the Kotar 
or kingfisher bird saved the younger, and carried him on 
his back home again. Have we here a reference to the 
great volcano of Kilauca of Hawaii in eruption ? An 
ancient Raiatean tradition records a very similar pheno- 
menon which scared away a party of Tahitian navigators. 
The Marquesan islanders, whose ancestors were certainly 
mingled with the Ponapeans, have a legend agreeing 
thereto : — 

" Great mountain ranges, mountains of Havaii, 
Havaii, where the red flaming fire springs up." 

" Aue mouna, mouna o Havaii, 
Havaii tupu ai te ahi veavea." 

Or, again, is the scene of the midnight sky on fire in one of 
the northern Ladrone islands, where many active volcanoes 
are always in play ? Some again may contend that the 


explorers penetrated into the zone, where the fiery lances 
of the Aurora Borealis or Northern lights are visible 
darting across the heavens. In any case the story illus- 
trates the energy of early Caroline island navigators in 
this great waste of waters. 

We seek our rest early that night, for time presses, and 
we must be stirring at dawn if the proposed exploration 
of the ruins on the hill-top is to be a success. The morn- 
ing turns out fine, and after hastily partaking of coffee 
and biscuit we set forth on our winding path up the 
mountain slopes, picking our way over stocks and stones, 
hewing down all branches and boughs obstructing the 
trail, burrowing through dense thickets of hibiscus, ever 
and anon stooping down to collect some of the curious 
flat spiral land-shells with which the ground is strewn, 
called Chepei-en-kamotal or " the washing bowl of the 
earth-worm." On we splash through shallow mountain 
streams, scaring up half-wild hogs wallowing in the rich 
black mud of the wayside pools — threading still shady 
glens, but ever going upward and upward. At last we 
pause awhile amongst a grove of sago-palms and moun- 
tain plantains in a swampy little dell, watered by a briskly 
flowing stream. By the side of the water lies a long 
tapering slab of basalt rudely worked into the form of a 
shark. It is some fifteen feet in length. A sharp three- 
cornered ridge runs along the centre of the back ; the 
dorsal fins are decidedly in evidence, and the tail dis- 
tinctly indicated. The head is left pretty well to the 
imagination. This is one of the rude Tikitik-en-ani or 
images found here and there in Ponape, and dedi- 
cated to presiding genii or guardian spirits of a com- 
munity or family. (Compare Maori and Marquesan 
Tiki and Tikitiki, an image.) This and Laponga's head 
were the only ones I saw, but I have no doubt that there 
are many more of them; and that the unconverted folk, as 
well as many of the church members, have hidden them 
away in odd nooks and corners, where they can secretly 


have recourse to them at will in time of need. Such a 
thing is quite in accordance with Ponapean character, and 
really very natural. For the cult of old gods dies very 
hard indeed all the world over. But the night of ignorance 
is passing, as the gathering sunlight of science chases one 
by one lingering superstitions like shadows from their 
lurking-places. It may be observed that the sharks Pako 
and Tanipa are held in great awe by the Ponapeans. 
The cult of the shark is, or was, strong on the Ant Islands, 
where there is a special holy place dedicated to that 

An hour's more climbing brings us to the edge of the 
tableland close under the old fort, the scene of a great 
battle a century ago between the King of Kiti and Chau- 
Kicha, the chief of Wana, who besieged the king in his 
stronghold and captured it, slaying him and many of his 
chiefs and warriors. The enclosure forms a nearly com- 
plete square, bulging out at the north-western angle. 

The northern end along the Takiririn road was de- 
fended by a row of palisades, for which system of forti- 
fication the Ak or mangrove supplies excellent materials. 
These estacadas de mangle gave the Spanish considerable 
trouble to carry during the eventful two days' fighting 
on the 22nd and 23rd of November, 1890, before the 
strongly fortified post of Ketam. At Ketam these were 
eleven feet high, in length six hundred and eighty yards, 
and a foot in thickness. The positions of Chap-en-Takai 
and Ketam are laid out pretty much on the same 
pattern, the Ponapeans in ancient and modern times 
being no mean proficients in fortification and the art 
of war. 

Proceeding along the south - east line of wall about 
thirty paces, we came to a wide breach, through which, 
tradition declares, the troops of Chau-Kicha, repulsed on 
other sides, finally broke their way in. Doubtless some 
excavations made hereabouts would bring to light many 
interesting relics such as permachapang, or stone clubs, 


like the " mere " of the Maori, war-axes made out of 
the centre shaft of the great Kima-cockle, and head 
ornaments and necklaces of shell resembling the North 
American Indian " wampum" with which these warriors 
profusely adorned themselves on going into battle. The 
name of the architect who built these walls is given as 

Passing along the Takiririn road we visited the site 
of the old village at the north-western end. Close by 
the site of the ill-fated King of Kiti's house we saw a 
high raised platform called Mol-en-Nanamareki, where, 
during the siege, the king with his councillor and war- 
chief Kaeka used to sit in solemn council. Some of the 
blocks of basalt composing the platform were near four 
feet thick. The site of the king's house was occupied 
by modern cook-houses newly thatched with sago-palm 
leaves. Everywhere round were marks of recent cultiva- 
tion, showing a practical and thrifty proprietor. There 
were groves of breadfruit-trees and well-weeded rows of 
plantains. Kava cuttings had been planted and were 
thriving vigorously. Yam-vines were trained everywhere 
along the tree-trunks, many of their leafy festoons turning 
yellow and brown, a sign that the coveted tuber is ready 
for digging. From the north-west corner at C, there 
is a fine view of the broad pronged outline of the Ants, 
and the three long islets of Pakin a little to the right. 
Here we took our frugal noonday meal of cold cooked 
breadfruit washed down with a few drinking-nuts. This 
concluded, the Au and Nanchau suddenly find their 
memories, and blossom out into a wealth of fairy tales 
as fast as one can write them down. 

Just where we were sitting, the King of Kiti and his 
choicest warriors made their last stand. But the name 
of this Ponapean Priam has gone down unchronicled into 
the dust and shadow. On the north-west and south-east 
sides of the fort the walls were either built much higher 
or have been left in much better preservation. Some of 


the blocks let into the masonry measure a yard across 
the face, a yard in depth and four feet in length. The 
height of the walls varies from six feet to twelve or 
fourteen. Yet even here destruction has been busy, the 
ground in front being strewn with fragments which have 
from time to time toppled down. To judge from the 
size of some of these fallen masses, the walls must once 
have stood considerably higher. The greatest height is 
found on the south-east side which faces a thickly 
wooded slope of a hill-spur running down steeply towards 
the sea. Here we remarked a high watch-tower (Im-ruk- 
en-chilepa), so this side appears to have been particularly 
well guarded against the approach of stealthy foemen 
through the dense jungle stretching below. 

The interior of the fort is thickly occupied by a be- 
wildering growth of tall grasses, ferns, creepers, weeds, 
and flowering shrubs, amongst which the handsome red 
and yellow spikes of the Katiu (Ixora), the broad white 
bells of the morning glory, and the brilliant blue petals of 
a rough-leaved shrub called Mateu, are most conspicuous. 

Our survey done we strike inland from the north-east 
corner, where our guide promises to show us some further 
remains. Presently we come upon an old stone platform 
(Lempantam) embowered amongst a mass of wild ginger 
plants. On it lies a broad and fiattish piece of basalt, 
shaped like a long dish, deeply hollowed out in the 
centre, wherein in olden times the Kava or Chakau root 
was pounded up to make the national beverage for the 
king and his court. This one bears the ceremonial name 
of Pel-en-Mau (which either means Sacred to Good Pur- 
pose, or The Pleasant House). The everyday name of 
such implements is Pat-alap or Big Stone. (Cf. Sanskrit 
Path, Pattar, Pattal — a stone ; Malay and Melanesian 
Batu, and Philippine Bato — a stone ; Polynesian Hatu, 
Whatu, Fatu, Atu — a stone. 

Close here, about the year 1882, a small bronze cannon 
was discovered and taken away by a party of explorers 


from the Lame, which circumstance may give some colour 
to the ipse dixit of the Spanish, who insist that the ruins 
on Ponape were the work of buccaneers or early naviga- 
tors of their nation. The people of this very district of 
Kiti have a tradition of a body of iron men who landed 
on the island, and though assailed in superior force, long 
defended themselves, and proved invulnerable against the 
axes, clubs, darts, and slingstones. At last the natives 
destroyed them by stabbing them through eye to brain 
with their long lances. This reminds one of the tale told 
in Herodotus of the brazen men whom an oracle pre- 
dicted should come out of the sea to help Psammitichus to 
his promised kingdom of Egypt. Doubtless some of the 
light armed Egyptians tried the same experiment with 
success against Psammitichus' mail-clad Carians. From 
the Kiti tradition we may safely infer the destruction of a 
landing party of men in mail from a vessel or vessels of 
some early navigator in these seas. 

A little further on and we come upon five round stones 
(Pai-n-uet, lucky pebbles) shaped like cannon balls, lying 
side by side in a hollow. " I see the eggs and the nest," 
said I to the Au, in the figurative way natives like, " but 
where are the birds that laid them ? Do you think they 
would miss one if I took it ? " The old man cackles 
feebly, but assuming a serious tone : " The birds," says 
he, " are nearer than you think." He declares that the 
air is full of viewless eyes of spirits viewing us, and that 
serious results would follow meddling with the stones, 
which, it appears, are used now and then for some sort of 
divination. This place is called Itet, and the precinct 
Pan-Katara, and a pile or stack of masonry close at hand 
Nan-Tauach, three names borrowed from the holy places 
of Nan-Matal over the Metalanim border. Do we not 
see here history repeating itself as usual ? Kiti is jealous 
of the shrines of her hated rival Metalanim, and founds 
for herself a hallowed place of pilgrimage and worship 
under the sanctifying denominations of old traditional 


landmarks, the very names of which carry with them 
some degree of indefinable prestige. The rival shrines of 
Bethel and Jerusalem, and the divided papacy of Rome 
and Avignon, are distinct cases in point in parallel 

The precinct called Pan-Katara, unlike its weird and 
desolate prototype of Metalanim, is bordered with patches 
of the Kava plant, and shadowed by some fine Kangit 
trees. Nan-Tauac/i is a pile of masonry built up of the 
usual basalt blocks. It measures ten feet in height, thirty 
feet in length, and thirty in breadth, densely overgrown 
with brushwood. Formerly it was a very sacred spot. 
In the middle on top are two holes eight feet in depth, 
the graves of the ill-fated King of Kiti and his marshal 
Kaeka, who were interred here after the great battle in 
which they fell. The masonry is built up after the style 
of its Metalanim namesake ; but as often happens with 
imitations, the work is on a smaller scale and the work- 
manship lacks finish. Upon the island of Ngatik (Ravens 
Isle), some thirty miles away down to the west, is another 
Pankatara— a rude stack of stones — partly thrown down 
of late by the vandal hands of native converts. 

Some years ago the fiat stones covering these pits were 
removed by searchers for the mom uaitata or red money, 
i.e. gold. Some lunatic or other, presumably as a practical 
joke, had been putting in circulation all manner of cock- 
and-bull stories about hidden treasure. Nothing, however, 
but a few mouldering bones rewarded their search. Pro- 
bably if they had found money they would not have paid 
their debts. Nan-Tauach proves to be our guide's trump 
card, and we wend our weary way homeward. Going 
down is worse than coming up, but we fight our way on 
through trackless mazes of Kalau, over fallen trunks of 
trees, and through mud-puddles and stone-paved torrent 
beds, till patience well nigh wears herself out. Late in 
the afternoon we limp into a little clearing, weary, 
bedraggled and mud-daubed — a sorry spectacle for saints 


and sinners. Not so, however, to a mirthful company of 
some forty persons there collected. An important cere- 
mony — the building of a council-lodge — has just been 
concluded for the day, and another equally important — 
the feeding of the hungry clan who have toiled fasting 
during all the fiery tropical sunshine — is just going to 
begin. The sewers of palm-leaf thatch, the plaiters of 
house-mats, the hewers of wood, the stone-workers, and 
the carpenters and joiners, are knocking off work. The 
deft fingers of the shutter-weavers are ceasing, gathering 
the stalks of slender cane and reed-grass into neat bundles 
for the morrow's task. 

A vast pile of native food lies hard by ; plenty for all 
and to spare, for native hospitality does not do things by 
halves. To be styled niggard, or one who grudges meat 
to his neighbour, is to suffer nearly the uttermost taunt in 
the Ponapean vocabulary, and, indeed, in the Pacific 
lands in general. 

Pending the distribution of the food we converse with 
the young chief for whom the house is being built, whose 
pleasant open countenance prepossesses one directly in 
his favour. 

The folk here rarely stir abroad, and view with the 
deepest interest the advent of a white visitor from the 
wondrous island, rich in ships and sailors, far across the 
seas, dim rumours of whose teeming cities and their 
wealth have reached even this little spot. The greatest 
respect is shown us. The feelings of a courteous host 
overcome the inborn curiosity of our new friend, who is 
really anxious to be asking questions, but refrains for fear 
of being troublesome from pure natural politeness. How- 
ever, we are soon chatting away as if we had known each 
other for years, discussing all manner of social and 
political questions, and, as it were, making an exchange 
of our experiences. Tales of the wars in Europe, and 
deadly modern engines of war, particularly rivet his 
attention. In return he deals with the history of his own 


people, not with authority as the Au, but modestly as an 
inquiring student (what south-western Polynesians call 
" a child of the Red House "). He shows great surprise 
at the close resemblance of Samoan, Tahitian and 
Marquesan numerals, and other key words to those in his 
native tongue ; and is fairly amazed when shown over 
what enormous stretches of ocean these families of a 
kindred race lie scattered. When told of that great 
statesman Sir George Grey's magnificent dream of the 
federation of all the Isles of the Pacific under the 
British flag, he was greatly moved, and declared his 
opinion in no doubtful fashion. " It is indeed well," says 
he, " one family, one flag. The sea-girt lands will hold 
together like one household, the people will plant the 
ground and gather the fruits in security, and war will 
vanish as the night at sunrise." 

I have dwelt somewhat at length on this conversation, 
because it is an excellent sample of many others held 
with friendly chiefs throughout the five tribes. It re- 
dounds greatly to the honour of our nation, the confidence 
and goodwill so widely established in the Carolines and 
elsewhere by the whisper of that open sesame name of 
" English." As I heard an old Cornish friend say of the 
Samoan, " They know who's kind to them." 

It is now time for the portioning out of the food. 
Saturday here, as in Samoa and other islands, is the day 
for cooking quantities of food to last over till Monday. 
It is no working-man's half holiday, but often a day of 
hard, honest work. A very active old man, and two or 
three young fellows with him, pounce upon the heap, and 
in a trice fish out four large baskets filled with baked 
yams, fermented breadfruit {mar), and cooked plantains. 
These, together with a baked sucking pig, he and his 
acolytes lay before the chief as his share. The merry 
old gentleman then hastens, or rather dances, back, 
skipping about vigorously, showering around him plen- 
teous jokes and japes. It seems to be expected of him, 


and every jest is honoured with hearty laughter. Without 
delay, up comes the English visitor's portion. A haunch 
and shoulder of roast pork, a large baked breadfruit, 
a remarkably fine green drinking coconut, a cooked 
sprouting nut — a dainty much relished by the Ponapeans 
— and a package of Itiit for dessert, a sweetmeat made 
of scraped yam and coconut-cream, twisted up into a 
dracaena leaf, and baked together into a cake in the 
earth-oven. Looking round, one is struck with the 
colour-note of red and yellow running through the 
buzzing assembly. Most of the young bucks (Pon- 
macku) are dressed in bright orange-yellow kilts with 
scarlet woollen borders. The same hues appear here"and 
there amongst the gowns of the women folk, who look 
like a bed of tulips in full bloom. Altogether the scene 
recalls the brightly-coloured Sunday-school illustrations 
of patriarchal times, to which illusion the noble Semitic 
profiles of many of the company lend some emphasis. 
Many of the workmen have by their side long, slightly 
curved knives, which give quite a warlike touch to the 
picture. By and by two young men come down the 
hill bearing a large newly uprooted Kava-plant between 
them. The ever-ready knives are brought into play, and 
the top branches quickly lopped off. The stems are 
pruned of leaves, cut into yard - lengths, and tied in 
bundles for planting. The sharp edge of a cockle 
is used in the pruning. Numbers of the shells lie 
strewn about, showing a large annual consumption 
of this leathery bivalve. The assembly now breaks 
up, streaming downhill to the Lodge by the water 
side, where the Kava root is being prepared with 
pestle and mortar ; and the modulated ringing of the 
stones, like hammer on anvil, is pealing up cheerfully 
through the greenwood. The chief, who is dead lame 
from a fearful abscess in the ankle, is carried down on the 
shoulders of the merry old gentleman. Amidst polite 
greetings we enter the Lodge, where ten or twelve 


men, whose faces are new to me, are sitting. Four 
are busily engaged pounding Kava on the ground 
below. We ascend the platform, and are warmly wel- 
comed by one of the strangers, who turns out to be the 
brother of our excellent old friend, Chau-Wana of Mount 
Roi, with whom we have spent sundry merry meetings. 
Here again it is borne in upon us how well it is for a 
traveller in these parts to be backed by a substantial 
introduction from a chief of recognised status — the older 
the better. The visitors will be sure of a cordial reception, 
the cloak of suspicion and reserve with which every native 
wraps himself in self-defence will be thrown off, and a 
little geniality will do all the rest. In due time the 
aromatic national beverage is ceremoniously handed 
round, pipes are lit, and our hosts wax communicative 
on the subject of seasons, constellations, guiding stars, 
and early navigation, cheerfully adding their quota to 
the notes already in hand. The entertainment winds 
up with some fine war-songs roaring out in a deep, 
sonorous chime, resembling in cadence and intonation 
the songs of my old friends the Marquesan islanders, who 
in many another striking way show a decided relationship 
with the Ponapeans. At length we take our departure, 
and soon arrive home, pushing through dripping woods in 
a heavy rainstorm, which has come down on us out of the 
stormy north. 

Supper awaits us, and with sharpened appetites we are 
sitting down to despatch it, when two young men arrive 
in a small canoe from the island of Mang, up by the 
Paliker coast, to announce to the Au that a chief lady, 
a near relation of his, is lying at the point of death, and 
earnestly begging him to come to her side. Our poor 
old host, evidently in great distress, with many apologies 
for having to leave us, hastily takes his departure, refusing 
all refreshment, and leaving us in charge of his wife, 
whose kindly solicitude for our comfort seems to outweigh 
her own private griefs. Immediately after his leaving, 


a thick, black squall comes humming over the waters, 
with a fresh tremendous downpour of rain. With sym- 
pathy we picture the old man toiling on in a little canoe 
through the mirk of the night in that howling welter of 
winds and waters, to obey the sacred duty of kinship and 
family affection which calls him, aged, infirm, and fasting, 
to face the bitter elements. Indeed, some of our people 
at home who talk of virtue and duty as if they had in- 
vented them, might well be instructed by the example of 
the unselfish Au. 

Under the circumstances, unwilling to intrude upon 
their griefs, and to burden their hospitality further, we 
decide to leave. The heart of our kind entertainer's wife 
is gladdened with the present of a bundle of strong 
tobacco, a black silk handkerchief, and a fine Sheffield 
blade, stamped with the magic words " Made in Germany? 

The sky is heavily overcast, threatening rain, and 
faithfully it keeps its promise. We arrive at Paniau 
after an unpleasant morning's voyage, and forthwith 
engage in busy preparations for getting the shells and 
other curios ready packed for the mail. Two trying 
days follow. We pursue our outdoor work under the 
discomfort of a ceaseless downpour and a chilling wind, 
disinterring frail upon frail of evil-smelling shells from 
their sandy burrows, and carefully cleaning and packing 
them in wisps of grass to prevent breakage. All join 
cheerfully in the work, and at last the monotonous task is 
ended by the ready co-operation of deft and willing hands. 

The last day but one of my stay on Paniau, we made 
up a little party to go ashore at Tiati and say goodbye to 
our friend Chau-Wana and his household, who had treated 
us so kindly. In the afternoon Nanchau, Eta and I, 
climbed Chila-U, the " Adze-head Rock," from which we 
had a fine view of Mutok Harbour and the richly-forested 
lowlands. In the evening the Tiati folk gave a feast, and 
many people from the outer districts came in with little 
presents and with kindly expressions of goodwill to their 


honoured guest and comrade about to cross the great 

Cheerless and grey broke the day of my departure, 
the bay ruffled with gusts and squalls of wind and sheets 
of driving rain. If ever I saw unfeigned sorrow and 
regret upon human face I saw it in those of my panainai, 
companions and friends of many a pleasant expedition. 
Our leave - taking was affecting. Poor old Nanchau 
and his wife quite broke down, and some of the others 
were very little better. I had hardly looked for such 
strong sympathy and feeling in the stern, rugged, and 
seemingly apathetic Caroline island character. But it 
was even so, and I shall think of them all my life the 
better for it. It was hard to go, and getting ready was 
sad work, but it was over at last. 

As I clambered on board the heavily - laden sailing 
boat which had done such good service, and as I turned 
and looked back, the western sun broke through the clouds 
and threw a feeble watery ray upon the pensive and sad- 
faced knot of men and women clustered on the little white 
beach, backed by a waving belt of wind-swept palms. 



THE little green island sinks astern, and we run down 
the Kiti coast in the early afternoon, putting in at 
night-fall at Ronkiti to say goodbye to Nanapei, who just 
then was in great trouble owing to the illness of Nalio, 
his mother, who died a few days after. About mid- 
night came a high tide, upon which we passed out over 
the sand and mud-banks, and the morning found us rock- 
ing in a dead calm in the lagoon off Tauak Island. Later 
on a breeze sprang up and brought us up towards the 
Paip-Alap or Great Cliff of Chokach. 

We sighted a large vessel ahead. By the smoky trail 
behind her on the sea-line we made her out to be the 
Correo, or Mail, steaming out of the north down upon 
Ascension Bay, whereupon we row along with a will, for 
we know she only stays a night in port, and we have still 
much work to do. We pass the islet of Tolotik or " Little 
Hill," steering carefully clear of numerous blocks of honey- 
combed limestone that stud the boat passage. To the 
right of us towers the Paip-Alap, a sheer bluff nearly a 
thousand feet in height above dense hanging woods on a 
little promontory where, shaded by a huge Tupap or 
Umbrella Tree, lives the Nallaim or High Priest of 
Chokach, an aged patriarch and very wise, who knows 
the names of kings and heroes of old and the ceremonies 
due to the ancient gods of the land- — himself one of the 
last of the old generation, whom alas ! I have left un- 
interviewed, and now perhaps shall never meet at all. A 
little further on lies the Tanipach or abode of the Wachai, 


and the modest little Catholic chapel nestling under wav- 
ing woods. Yet further, and we sight the Nach and the 
dwelling of the Nanekin, scene of the massacre of Ensign 
Martinez and his party in 1887. Above us are opening 
out the peaks and ridges at the back of Chokach's great 
seaward scarp, but the north-west horn of the island which 
shuts out the Colony from our view is not yet passed. 

This day the sides of the great precipice show out 
wondrously in the rays of the rising sun. The cliff- 
face shows a strongly-marked formation of columnar 
basalt, like that of the Giant's Causeway and the South 
Cape of Tasmania. Right under the great pile, one 
views in the solid rock stripes and veinings of umber 
and slaty-grey with vivid velvety black splashes of rich 
volcanic soil, washed and filtered down from the highlands 
above. The effect is further diversified by ledges of 
shimmering herbage where flying seeds of grass or weed 
or fern have lodged. On the summit, far, far above 
our heads, wave clumps of pandanus and the native 
gardenia, flinging out their feathery outline against the 
sky, firm-rooted on the verge of the dizzy gulf of air. 

As the north-west side of the island opens up to us 
broadside on, we catch sight of another rocky and 
precipitous mass, similar in shape but smaller, and 
topped by a peak like an obelisk ; and on the further 
side overlooking the Tau-Mokata boat-passage which 
divides Chokach from the mainland, a third wall of 
basalt looks down on the swamps and their shadowing 
maze of mangroves. In the middle of the island is a 
great break or cleft, a regular chine, through which a 
narrow path, leading across the island, runs over the 
dividing saddle of mountain amidst dense groves 
chequered with tiny native dwellings lying back in 
their clearings and sending up faint blue wreaths of 
smoke in the early morning air. This side of the island 
has the most population, and one views the rude cabins 
of the settlers perched high amongst hanging woods 


like the peasants' chalets fringing the wooded heights 
round Altdorf or some Unterwalden hamlet in Switzer- 
land's forest cantons. On this side of Chokach the 
groves of breadfruit are magnificent, the greater and 
lesser banyan, the towering Chatak or Elceocarpus, the 
Tree-Gardenia, and the Mango, lending their peculiar 
nuance to a rich panorama of glancing tints of green. 

Before us stretches the low mangrove-covered islet of 
Taka-tik or Little Island, and the basaltic round of 
Langar is emerging in the background with a couple of 
the German firm's trading vessels lying at anchor in 
the bay off the long low wharf, and right ahead shows 
up clear and clearer the long hill-ridge of Not Point 
and the hulk at her moorings below the little settlement 
of Villa Madrid, whilst in the centre of the harbour the 
Uranus has just dropped anchor with a host of boats 
and canoes swarming round her. 

Taka-tik once passed, it did not take us long to reach 
the Santiago wharf, and a busy day of packing we had 
of it, the boys turning to with a will, as Ponapeans are 
wont to do for their friends when really wanted. 

By sunset all was in order for the departure of the 
Uranus on the morrow at noon. A farewell visit had 
been paid to the Spanish Governor, and to my kindly 
hosts, the captain and officers of the Quiros, as well 
as the priests and the courteous local medico. I deter- 
mined to spend my last night ashore with my good 
old friend Dr Kubary at Mpompo. So taking with 
me Kaneki, whom, for his fidelity to me the Spaniards 
dubbed El secretario, I passed through the sentries on 
watch by virtue of the password for the night given 
us by the polite captain of Infantry. Kubary, hale and 
hearty as ever, had just returned from a long tramp 
over the hills collecting landshells, his latest hobby. The 
reader can guess how two enthusiasts sat far into the 
night in earnest discussion upon the mystery of the 
strange lands around them, whilst the faithful Kaneki, 


worn out with his exertions, curled up in his cloak on the 
mats and slept peacefully at his master's feet. 

In my mind's eye I see my bluff host sitting in his great 
cane chair, spectacles on nose, with his specimen-cases, 
instruments, books and pamphlets around him, peering 
keenly into the hieroglyphs of some huge German tome 
of science to wrest therefrom some happy illustration of 
his theme. And this was the last I saw of Kubary, 
ablest and sturdiest of Germany's pioneers of science in 
Pacific waters. 

The 22nd of October dawns, the last day of my stay 
in Ponape. The scent of the pandanus flowers hangs 
heavy on the air as a wreath of incense, and the birds 
are singing blithe in bush as we walk down through the 
glades on that fair and golden early morning. I take 
my final plunge in a cool deep fern-fringed basin where 
a brawling torrent purls down from its rain-swept home 
in the cloud-capped hills. 

Many and cordial are the leave-takings with native 
and European in the Colony, but I get away at last with 
my trusty crew bending sturdily to their oars under the 
stimulus of the last glass of the good padre's Benedictine. 
It is now broad noon. The Uranus, good old sea grey- 
hound, is already straining at her leash, black smoke 
pouring thick from her funnels as she vibrates with the 
churning of her suddenly-awakened screw. In a trice my 
boxes are hoisted and handed on board, the word to start 
is given, and we are off and sweeping out of the bay with 
the parting cheers of my crew ringing out gallantly in our 
wake. Little by little the great scarp of Chokach and 
the cloud-capped peak of Kupuricha sink into grey 
distance behind, and the lofty island is left ere long a 
mere blur on the great waters as we tear on into the dark 
north-west. We are making for Guam (Guahan), southern- 
most of that strange chain of volcanic islands running 
down into the Micronesian area from out the maze of 
shimas or islets which so thickly sprinkle the ocean south 


of Japan and the sister chain of the Lew-Chews (Ryu- 

Our voyage to Guam was fair and uneventful. We 
sighted no land, the captain as usual holding her course well 
to the north of the reefs and low-lying atolls of the Central 
Carolines. The Uranus people had much to tell of the pro- 
gress of the Revolution in the Philippines up to the 8th of 
October, the day on which she left Manilla. There had been 
a brisk skirmish at Santa Misa at the north-west suburb of 
the city, close to the country house of the English Club, 
on which occasion fifty Spanish artillerymen and about 
seven hundred loyal natives met and defeated a mob of 
two thousand rebels. The new rifles employed by the 
victors inflicted severe punishment. A hundred and four 
rebels were killed outright, and many more wounded and 
taken prisoners. A number of the latter were sentenced 
to be shot, amongst them my poor photographer, who, 
tired of honest employment, had elected to take part in 
this his last piece of mischief. 

If all reports are true, tortures were freely lavished 
upon many of the wretched Filipino captives worthy of 
the most palmy days of the Inquisition — as they lay in 
the dungeons of the Old town. If so, it must not be for- 
gotten that the rebels had committed horrible atrocities 
in the rising. One padre at the capture of Imus was 
impaled, dying in frightful and lingering torments, another 
was crucified under a blazing sun, and a third chained to 
a stake, his robes saturated with petroleum and set in a 
blaze. Unarmed Spaniards were murdered and their 
corpses chopped in pieces, their wives and daughters 
reserved for a worse fate at the hands of a dastardly 
rabble, who at the sight of a dozen English blue-jackets 
would have run for their lives — aye, and be running still. 
At the time of the Uranus leaving, thirteen of these 
gentle rebels had been shot in Cavite, and eight on the 
Luneta esplanade in Manilla. Twenty-one were in safe, 
but uncomfortable, keeping, waiting to be shot on the 


day following — a most laudable clearance of worthless 

The days passed pleasantly enough. The officers were 
courteous, and all arrangements on board of a distinctly 
comfortable order. Our hours for meal-times were some- 
what curious. Breakfast a la fourchette at ten, and dinner 
at five. Coffee is served in the early morning, supple- 
mented if required by an omelette or rich pancake — eggs 
being as plentiful on board as they were scarce on 
Ponape. Reading the Manilla journals and diarios was 
entertaining work. The style in places was comically 
bombastic and full of startling drops into pathos and 
sentimentality. The chief engineer, coming from the 
Basque country, gave me a number of remarkable words 
in that tongue, which I shall certainly hand over one 
day, along with a choice assortment of Pelew and other 
harsh-sounding dialect forms, to some skilled philologist 
for dissection. Only I must find one with lips as elastic 
as caoutchouc, and lungs of brass and leather ; and, above 
all, a sound dental apparatus, or I should have my fears 
of his talking-tackle going to pieces in the process. 

On the seventh day out the limestone cliffs of Guam 
were seen emerging on the sky-line, and late at night we 
lay at the Port Luis anchorage. In the morning I went 
ashore in the ship's boat, and without waiting for one of 
the primitive carriages, marched the five miles to Agana 
on foot. I proceeded to the house of Henry M., an 
American resident, to whom I had an introduction, an 
excellent fellow, who received me most hospitably, and 
took me round to see the parish priest, Padre Jose 
Palomo, who gave me some interesting information 
about the Ladrone group. To him also I owe a long 
list of words in the old language of the Chamorros, which 
now is greatly mixed with Spanish, and rapidly becoming 
one of the vanished tongues. I also obtained a complete 
list of the ancient numerals, and all tallied wonderfully 
with the vocabulary collected by Chamisso in 1814, a 


fact of which I was then ignorant. The Chamorro dialect 
in grammar is akin to the Tagala and Pampang of the 
Philippines, and to the Favorlang of Formosa. In 
vocabulary and phonesis it has something peculiar to 
itself. Some of the words much resemble those in the 
Sulu Archipelago. There are a few Aino traces, and 
rather a large number of words akin to those current in 
the Polynesian dialects. There are several clearly-defined 
cognates with Sanskrit, such as Fa/ma, mast ; Skt, Falan ; 
Pagua, areca palm ; Skt, Pug ; Pupul, pepper, Kava ; 
Skt., Pipal, pepper ; Paka, white ; Skt, Pak, bright ; Lada, 
an orange-red dye-wood (Morinda) ; Skt, Rata, (1) red, 
(2) dyed, coloured ; Luluk, Lulik, iron ; Skt., Lauh, Lauk. 
Padre Jose made much of the ruins upon the neighbouring 
islands of Saipan, Rota, and Tinian, which I much re- 
gretted being unable to visit this time, and firmly re- 
solved to thoroughly explore on my return. He told me 
also of a cave upon Guam, near the village of Ina-rahan, 
near Agana, the walls of which are covered with hierogly- 
phical characters inscribed by one of the ancient queens 
of the island. There seems no reason why the Chamorros 
should not have had an ancient written character like 
their neighbours the Tagals of the Philippines and the 
allied Malays of Java, Sumatra, Celebes, and Macassar. 
It does not seem unnatural that owing to long oceanic 
isolation of the Chamorros, and, a fortiori, the Micro- 
nesians, who dwell still further away from the civilised 
Indonesian area, the art of writing during process of long 
generations, should have more and more fallen into the 
hands of an intelligent minority who alone could interpret 
and explain the import of the signs. Finally it would be 
lost, with the exception of just such traces as the above. 
Or, again, as in Ponape, the word for writing would be 
merged in that for tattooing or commemoration. {Cf. 
Ponape Intin, Inting, to write, tattoo ; Intant, name, 
fame, renown ; the Lampong of Sumatra has Untang- 
untang, written law ; Sulu Archipelago, Indan, to write 


or engrave.) It would thus be very interesting to find 
out whether the old Chamorros did have an alphabet of 
their own, and perhaps even to discover tablets inscribed 
with the annals of the olden time and the deeds of native 
kings long prior to the Spanish conquest. 

Until sunset the good padre sat and conversed, for the 
most part in excellent English. I found to my surprise 
that upon the island of Saipan there is a colony of Caro- 
line islanders, mostly drawn from the central groups, and 
grievously tantalised I felt at having to return with such 
precious ethnographical material almost within my grasp. 
But I steeled my heart and took my leave, more deter- 
mined than ever to revisit the group in a year or two, of 
which notion my worthy host M., with whom I spent the 
evening, approved, and promised me all the assistance in 
his power on my return. 

Next morning we drove down to Port Luis together. 
The road passes over several small bridges spanning 
narrow rivulets (saddug) which drain the rich lowlands 
stretching back to the line of limestone cliffs through 
which the moisture filters down from the moors. Pictur- 
esque native houses, like those in the Manilla suburbs, 
peep out on either side of the road amongst taro and 
banana plantations. Coconut palms (Nidjok) fringe the 
wayside which runs along the sea, separated from the 
beach by a narrow belt of palms, hibiscus and pandamis, 
with an occasional yam-patch or pineapple clearing. The 
reef only lies some two hundred yards off shore. Here 
very fine specimens of uncommon shells can be picked up 
at low tide, but hardly anybody takes notice of them. 

We arrived at the village of Asan around which are 
beds of a white lily with yellow calix, variously called in 
Micronesia Kiop, Gieb, Kiuf, and Kief. To our left lies a 
stretch of swampy land, which the local peasantry are 
getting ready for the planting of rice {Fat). This was a 
well-defined branch of industry of the natives prior to the 
conquest of 1570, which the Spanish chronicler remarks 


upon as a fact of peculiar interest — as indeed it is. It is 
doubtless due to the occasional visits in early times of 
Chinese or Japanese trading vessels. {Fun-Tan, the 
Marianne God of fishermen and sailors, probably is the 
Japanese Fune-Dama, the god of ships and navigation.) 
A glance at any good chart of this part of the Pacific will 
show the great probability of such occasional visits, even 
if they were not regularly kept up. The word Fat, rice, 
like the corresponding word Mai, Komai, in Yap, where 
however the grain is not regularly under cultivation, 
answers to the Chinese and Japanese word Mai. 

In the background the hill of Nagas looks down upon 
marsh and meadow. The rounded limestone formation 
here resembles nothing so much in outline as one of the 
ancient robber-castles perched on a hillside by the Rhine. 

We reach the village of Tipungan embowered in groves 
of orange-trees (Kahit), and load up the trap with a plenti- 
ful supply of the fruit thereof, with the aid and entire 
concurrence of the polite village headman. Hereabouts 
we met C. on horseback, a lively young American trader, 
who had been with R. L. Stevenson in the Gilberts, and 
who now, to his vast content, finds himself located in this 
pleasant little spot, where, he informs us, the climate is 
first rate, one's neighbours decent folk, and the lasses 
wonderfully agreeable, and pretty as a peep-show. Soon 
after leaving our Bohemian acquaintance we reached Port 
Luis, and just looking in to see Joe Wilson, the harbour- 
master, we got a boat and rowed on board the Uranus, 
where we had a very jovial breakfast-party together. 
We left about noon, reaching Yap the next day but one, 
where I disembarked bag and baggage, boxes, books and 
bottles upon Gerard's islet of Ngingich, pending the arrival 
of Captain O'Keefe, my agent and banker, in whose hands 
I am to place myself. 




THE following is based on that given by the Spanish 
historian Dr Cabeza Pereiro, now supplemented by- 
observations of my own made on the spot. The Yap 
group consists of one main island situated 144 17' east 
longitude and 90 28' north latitude, with the islands of 
Map and Ramung to the north, which appear to have 
been torn away by volcanic forces, being only separated 
from each other by a narrow channel easily fordable at 
low tide. The other islets are called Tapelau, Engnoch, 
Tarrang, Obi, and Impakel. Yap is surrounded by a 
coral reef some thirty-five miles long and some five broad. 
The main island seems to owe its origin to an elevation 
of the sea bottom. Towards the north it is nearly cut in 
two at the isthmus of Girrigir. In the north and central 
part of the island there is a range of hills of slight eleva- 
tion which does not exceed 1000 feet, and whose slopes 
distribute the rain-water to the low-lying districts. 
Rivulets (Lul) are very scarce, and when any considerable 
time passes without rain the water runs short. The 
population amounts to some 8000. The folk apparently 
belong to the Malay race, with a Dra vidian substratum, 
and a slight mixture of Polynesian. Our Spaniard refers 
them to the Battak type, and declares that they are in- 
clined to be hospitable, but revengeful in character when 
they conceive that their honour is insulted. Which 
may very well be so. They are not particularly 



cordial to strangers, and they often fail to keep their 
word. Their character is peaceable and apathetic. They 
are fond of fishing, and their robustness of body and 
docile nature make them well adapted for all sorts of 
labour, though in general they are lazy Socially they 
are divided into four classes — magicians, nobles, rich men, 
and slaves. Their houses are solidly built of breadfruit 
and callophyllum wood, artistic in form, thatched with 
nipa palm and pandanus leaf. The walls are of light 
canes bound in rows with a cording of cinet or coconut 

Yap does not produce many timber-trees. The island 
is surrounded by a belt of coconut palms about half a 
mile in thickness. No cereal is under cultivation, and 
rice cannot be acclimatized. Maize would apparently yield 
well, but the Spanish have not tried it. The country 
produces in great abundance sweet potatoes, various kinds 
of yam, giant taro, mammee apples, pineapples, plantains, 
sugar-cane, breadfruit (" Thau ") and the tropical almond 
(Terminalia Catappa). 

Captain Butron of the Velasco, sunk in the late action 
in Manilla Bay, gives the following information on the 
prevailing winds: — 

The north-east monsoon comes on from September to 
October, veering occasionally to the east, from which 
quarter its force is increased. The south-west begins in 
June and July. 

We are indebted to poor Captain Holcombe for a more 
detailed account of the winds and their seasons. 


Calms and variable winds. Towards 
February I enc * °^ montn co °l breezes. 
March Occasional hard squalls. Monsoon loses 

somewhat of its force. 
April Calm and variable winds. Latter half 

of month fresh breezes. 
May Calm. Breezes less frequent. 


These 3 [June and "} Calm, occasionally showers of rain. Light 
months j-and pleasant breezes. 

form the-\ July J Calm. Variable towards end. Showery. 

rainy Season of typhoon ( Yeko) begins. Yap 

season. I August lies in the very centre of these disturbances 

which pile up terrible seas, much dreaded 

by native voyagers. 

September"! are like the three preceding months. With 

and \ October ends the probable season of the 

October J typhoons, though they have been known 

to occur as late as December. 
November Light and variable winds and calms, and 
towards end of month north-east, veering 
to east. The winds hold strong and full, 
with but little rainfall. 

During the south-west monsoon, which begins in June, 
the days are calm and there are heavy dews and much 
moisture, and from the middle of July to the beginning 
of August there are heavy rains. During the north-east 
monsoon the weather is dry and there is little dew. 
Typhoons are not uncommon between August and 

The temperature varies from about 74 to 8o° 

Before describing the architecture of the club houses 
and the ancient tombs, I must call attention to the 
peculiar coinage or medium of exchange in Yap. First 
and foremost comes the stone money, which consists of 
limestone or arragonite wheels, varying from six or eight 
inches to twelve feet in diameter. These from their bulk 
form a most unwieldy medium of exchange. A man who 
had extensive business debts to meet would need a 
whole fleet of canoes or some ten yoke of buffaloes or 
bullocks and a waggon to transport his specie. Gener- 
ally speaking, however, these stones are more for show 
and ornament than for use. The village club houses are 
called Fe-bai or stone money-houses, from the wheels of 



stone which rest against their walls. In any of the 
settlements these great discs or wheels may be seen 
outside the houses of the Madangadang or plutocrat class, 
which here as well as elsewhere enjoy considerable dis- 
tinction in national councils. 

A perfect pair of large shells, the valves of the pearl 
oyster, are also highly valued, and used as money. The 
natives call them Yar-ni-Balao, i.e. Pelew island shells, for 
the early Yap navigators, with the usual recklessness of 
folk of Malayan extraction, used to make extensive forays 
on the pearl-shell beds of their long-suffering neighbours 
of the Pelew group, and were forced at last to make their 
title good by many obstinate battles by land and sea. 
The smaller specimens of pearl-shell they used to thread 
upon strings of hibiscus fibre or cinnet, about twenty on a 
line, to be employed as small change. In these days, 
however, bags of copra or dried coconut kernel {Tutu-ni- 
fatuis-a-marau) are employed as a medium of exchange. 
This is produced in great abundance despite occasional 
typhoons from the north, which make great havoc in the 
palm-groves, and occasions no small rivalry amongst the 
trading fraternity. It may be observed that in the 
northern islands of Yap and Ramung and the wilder 
parts of the main island the money of the white man, 
whether English, Spanish, or American, is hardly ever 
accepted as legal tender, and it is only in the settlements 
around the Spanish colony in Tomil Bay that the natives 
have learned to recognise its value. 

There is yet another treasure highly prized in Yap, 
but which from its comparative rarity is seldom bartered. 
It is a coarse shaggy white mat, resembling nothing so 
much as goat or dogskin ; it is made from the beaten- 
out bark of the Kal or lemon hibiscus tree. It is not for 
use, but merely for show, and is always kept religiously 
rolled up in a safe corner. It is exactly the counterpart 
of the Ie-sina of Samoa, a white shaggy mat made out of 
the fibres of the bark of a forest-tree, a species of Ramie. 


After setting things in order on Ngingich I visited F. 
at Rul over the bay and met there his local trader 
Evan Lewis from Lai on the south coast, a worthy 
old Welshman who has married a Marianne wife and 
is blessed with a numerous family. Lewis had been 
in Lamotrek and Uleai, and readily agreed to put me 
up for a few days and assist me to gain information 
both from the Lai natives and from his own stock of 
knowledge. Next day Lewis brought up his vessel, 
and after taking in all needful supplies we dropped 
down the coast with a fine south-west breeze. Our vessel 
was China-rigged, i.e. her mainsail has six or seven 
supplementary bamboo yards running all the way across 
it ; this makes the boat sail closer up into the wind, 
and answer the helm more speedily. This method was 
introduced into Yap about eighteen years ago by a 
trading-skipper named Captain Holcombe — murdered 
a little while ago in a mutiny which arose among his 
crew off the Gilolo passage. It was not long before 
Lewis started with reminiscences of the ways of the 
Lamotrek islanders. " These people," said he, " have 
a regular grace before meat like Christians. When the 
fish is taken cooked out of the oven, before they taste 
a solitary fragment, one of them takes a bit from the 
head and solemnly mutters, ' Ka Toulop ami ' — ' Do thou 
bless me, oh Toutop.' This Toutop is a Deity greatly 
honoured in the Lamotrek Pantheon. Then he throws 
away the bit, and the people immediately begin their 
meal. But if anyone were to partake of the food before 
the blessing was asked, the fishermen would have no 
luck any more, but storms and heavy gales. For Toutop, 
like the rest of the Caroline gods, is very jealous of 
any slight put upon him." 

We sweep along, tacking every now and then to 
avoid the numerous weirs of stone and canework (Thagal 
and Aech) with which Yap fishermen have industriously 
filled the shallow lagoon that girdles their coasts. Look- 


ing to landward every now and then, one after another 
of the great Bachelor Halls or Club-houses with its 
peculiar high-pointed gables and projecting eaves shows 
up inshore and is swallowed up in the succeeding scenes 
of ever-shifting woods and waters. On either hand 
light native craft every now and then pass, hail us, 
and shoot away with a flirt of the dripping paddle. 
And Lewis, having got fairly upon his hobby, continues 
his parable thusly : — 

" For four days before a fishing expedition the Lamo- 
trek natives sleep apart from their wives. They go 
out fasting in order to ensure success. When they 
make their first haul they drink one green coco-nut 
apiece, and put in shore for the ceremony of Yaf-ilok 
— The Coming in of the Fire. A fire is made, each 
takes a fish, broils it, and eats it. Each fisherman then 
goes down to the sea, washes mouth and hands in the 
salt water, and invokes the blessing of Aliu-set and 
Sau-lal, gods of the sea. This ceremony over, the dis- 
tribution of the heap of fish commences. If any women 
or children come near and break the taboo by helping 
themselves, the same will receive swelled ankles or 
elephantiasis as a punishment and visible token of the 
anger of the spirits." x 

Just as we are approaching Lai, we run in close to 
the seven waterworn islets of Gerem — an aggregation 
of odd little pinnacles of limestone rock running up 
some twenty feet in height, the resting place of several 
species of sea-birds. We notice two kinds of curlew, 
one with curved bill (Kaku, Ponape Chakor), the other 
with straight bill {Ruling, Ponape Kulu). There is 
also a sort of plover (Gabachai). The islets are covered 

1 The same evening he told me of a belief prevalent on Lamotrek in the 
existence of a squid that leaves the sea by night, ascends the coconut palms, 
and drinks the Kaji or toddy from the calabashes hung to collect it. The 
natives of the Hervey Group have a similar story. — Was Aristotle right after 
all in telling us 2000 years ago of an amphibious poulp or squid ? 


with rushes {Pipi), patches of parsley fern and clumps 
of the silvery-leafed Heritiera or saltwater chestnut. 

After a brief survey of Gerem we push off inshore 
towards the vielil or mangrove clumps which embosom 
Lai and her palm-groves. The sun goes down, and 
an intermittent gleam of torches shows up the depths 
of the dark woods mingled with the coruscations of 
the fire-flies floating in and out like fairy lamps in 
some Aladdin's cave. A view-holloa greets us from 
the beach as we slide into shallow water, and a Fofod 
or bamboo raft manned by scantily-attired and wild- 
looking figures puts off to us, finally landing us on 
terra firma under a clump of Ruai or white mangroves 
close by the copra houses where the cut-up coconut 
kernels are stored previously to being put up in sacks 
and taken up to the main station at Riil. 

We soon found our way to Lewis' house, which only 
lies back some 150 yards, in its neat little compound 
surrounded by a fence of fine bamboo, and overshaded 
by a magnificent grove of areca and coco-palms. After 
dinner some of the principal folk of the district called 
in. Each carried under his arm a leaf-woven bag con- 
taining all the accessories for smoking and betel-nut 
chewing, without which a native rarely stirs on a visit. 

It would have been an interesting study for a painter, 
the group of silent attentive Semitic faces, ebon in their 
blackness, alternately rivetted upon my worthy old 
interpreter and their new white visitor whom they scan 
as if to read his innermost thoughts. Solemn counten- 
ances light up bit by bit, and the ice of reserve is 
broken up. By and by the House went into a Com- 
mittee of ways and means and a rather interesting 
session was held. Guides were assigned to the stranger, 
likewise tellers of old tales and teachers of that strange 
hodge-podge of vowels and consonants which the Yap 
folk fondly conceive to represent articulate speech. The 
village patriach Gili-megak was told off for duty on 


the reef, and undertook to provide at need a trustworthy- 
native to help in specimen-collecting. He received the 
designation of Minister of the Sea and Reef, and 
chuckling, hugged the title to himself. His nephew 
Fatu-mak-ini-chik was appointed Minister of the Woods 
and Forests, his duty being to teach botany and 
point out ancient tombs and places of interest in the 
interior. By this division of labour we gained the 
goodwill of two powerful district chiefs. It may be 
remarked here that these very logical arrangements were 
carried out to the smallest detail at a very reasonable 
cost without any grumbling or shirking whatsoever, which 
speaks volumes in favour of certain phases of Caroline 
Island character when these people are properly directed 
and treated with ordinary courtesy. 

Our plans thus being set in train, we fell to lighter 
business, and I was soon busily engaged in writing down 
all manner of miscellaneous and rapidly-volunteered 
information. Amongst other things, I learn that in a 
population of some 12,000 there are at least eleven 
dialects, and the number of different ways of saying No 
would delight a European diplomatist. In order to lose 
no opportunity for instruction, frequent reference was made 
to curious native customs, recalling certain restrictions or- 
dained in Leviticus, and shadowed forth in the confessions 
of Lady Asenath of Fiji, to the natives of which place the 
Yap folk bear a strong resemblance in many ways. In 
touching on ancient history, it turns out that the people 
of Yap were both astronomers and intrepid navigators, 
extending their voyages far and wide over the great 
Caroline Archipelago, as far east as Fanupei (Ponape), 
and Kuthiu (Kusaie), a distance of some 1300 miles. 
They appear to have put wholesome fear into the wild 
folk of Anangai (Uleai), and Pulawat (Enderby I.), which 
latter lies about 160 miles west of Ruk, and is ap- 
parently a regular nest of Malay pirates. There seems 
really no reason to doubt the truth of this tradition of 


former maritime activity in these seas in which the old 
men of Yap are unanimous. The Ponapeans for their 
part have a legend about a being named Chau- Yap, 
i.e. King of Yap, who brought them the Kava plant. 
There is a place at the mouth of the Ronkiti River 
on the south coast named Chakar-en- Yap, or the place 
where Yap men landed. Also the Ponapeans have a 
small plantain with pink flesh and delicate flavour which 
they call Ut-en-Yap, or the Banana that came from Yap. 
A species of Eugenia they call Kamp-en- Yap. The 
word Yap seems to be used to mean anything foreign, 
just as the Pelew folk use Barath and Malays Barat. 
{Cf. Sanskrit Barata = India.) These facts appear to 
greatly strengthen the probability of the early com- 
mercial enterprise of the people of Yap. 

Next morning we rose about eight. An hour later 
Lewis departed overland with a retinue of basket-bearing 
natives, to meet his employer on the other side, and 
discuss the best means of securing the greatest quantity 
of coconuts in the shortest time. Now this is the great 
local industry of Yap, though the natives are apt to work 
it rather spasmodically. Like the Northampton cobbler 
who declared there was nothing like leather, even so 
island traders pin their faith on copra, and appear never 
tired of discussing this apparently inexhaustible subject. 
The other day there was quite a row up the coast, so 
keen is the competition of the rival firms, because one 
trader boldly and adroitly secured for his employer five or 
six sacks of particularly fine tabu nuts which had been 
expressly set aside for his rival. This, allowing for 
shrinking of the copra, would represent no very great 
gain to the supplanter, but the incident caused a deal 
of talk notwithstanding. " There's no sound so sweet 
to me," said one of these keen drivers of bargains, " as 
the falling of a big ripe coconut, and there's nothing 
on earth like dollars." And I believe the practical man 
meant what he said, every word. 


Punctually to his appointment the Minister of the Reef 
bade one of the Pilung or district chiefs to have a fofod 
or raft of bamboos ready that very morning. So about 
mid-day we started at the ebbing of the tide, my attendant 
propelling us with vigorous thrusts from a bamboo pole. 
We floated over beds of sea-grass, stopping every now and 
then to take note of some curious form of marine life, or 
to pop some curious crab or fish into the ever ready 
alcohol-bottle. Our craft was exactly adapted for expedi- 
tions in very shallow water, as she only drew some four 
inches. She was composed of twelve or thirteen stout 
bamboos, each about fifteen feet in length, lashed rudely 
together with cinet fibre, forming a framework some five 
feet in breadth, crossed by four or five transverse pieces of 
hibiscus wood. A packing-case in the centre served for 
a seat, and it goes without saying that shoes and stockings 
were dispensed with, and the oldest and rudest garments 
donned, for salt water is a grievous enemy to white ducks 
and broadcloth. 

Between Lai and Gerem is a large patch of intensely 
yellow sand. We punted along in a diagonal direction, 
keeping always under the tail of the bank. By and by 
we came to a bed of corals, some foliaform, and some like 
a forest of minute antlers, with small blue and orange 
fishes playing in and out of the branches. It was ex- 
hilarating in such glorious weather gliding over strange 
waters, splashed by the sea-spray, played on by the cool 
breezes that start the ripples glittering under the glow of 
a tropical sun. The guide points out an old Ponapean 
friend, which he calls a Rimich, a curious form of marine 
life occupying one of the cracks in the coral — a gelatinous 
reddish brown creature, stretching out a forest of greedy 
suckers looking just like a clump of water-weeds. There 
is also a yellow variety called ThilthiL One touch and it 
shrinks down into its hole like a jack-in-the-box, and 
there abides safely bottled up until the danger is past. 

We are now approaching one of the stone fish-dams or 


weirs used for entrapping the unwary finny tribes. Neatly 
and solidly built of coral blocks, they are generally covered 
about a foot deep at high tide, and prove the bane of 
those in charge of trading craft, who are for ever running 
on them unexpectedly. Some are of considerable an- 
tiquity. Tradition assigns their origin to a pupil of the 
fairy goddess, Le-gerem. They resemble the Sai of 
Murray Island and the elaborate structures built by 
early Australian Blackfellows at Brewarrina. 

The first one we came to was rather more roughly put 
together than those we saw later on. Its height was 
about 3^ feet, breadth of wall about same, length some 
i 5 yards. 

My attendant has thoughtfully brought with him some 
pieces of Yub root in order to stupefy the small brilliant- 
coloured fishes that lurk amongst the branching coral. 
Catching them with a fine net is hopeless, and with the 
fingers all but impossible. But the effect of the Malayan 
root is magical ; the little victims one by one float up on 
their backs and soon find their way into the alcohol 
bottle that gapes for them, and is carefully wrapped in 
damp rags to prevent evaporation of the precious fluid 
within. But alas, alcohol will not preserve their wondrous 
hues. In but too many cases the cobalt turns to dull 
brown, the rose-pink to a brick-dust, and the bright 
yellow to a dismal gamboge or muddy amber. Special- 
ists now tell me that formyle would have preserved the 
colours better — a hint that may be useful to future ex- 
plorers. But the specimen hunter must be guided by 
successive defeats to ultimate victory, and must often be 
content to do his best with the materials which lie ready 
to his hand. We gathered in plenty of shells, for the 
most part resembling those of the Indian Ocean, and one 
violet and brown sea-urchin, a hideous sea-spider, a sea- 
centipede, and various quaint-looking crabs, amongst them 
a fine specimen of the Cancrejo pintado or painted crab of 
the Mariannes, colours light blue, red, yellowish-brown, and 


white. We caught sight of a yellow and black-ringed 
sea-snake (Lilibots), but he was too quick for us Our 
last find was a large sea-urchin, called O/a'a, with spines 
spotted brown and white, for all the world like the quills 
of a porcupine. We then pushed for shore, and after strol- 
ling along the beach a while returned to the house where 
Juan, Lewis' brother-in-law, a bright sensible lad, had got 
dinner ready and waiting. The afternoon was spent 
amongst the books and the animals of Lewis' household, 
which included a curious specimen of the vampire per- 
suasion, known to the English as fruit-bcU, and to the 
Yap people as Magelao, a very tame monkey (Chiek), a 
nice little beast, and a great playmate of the native chil- 
dren, a saffron Thomas cat of a saturnine and morose 
disposition, and a faithful house-dog — hero of a hundred 
fights, and possessed with the doggy instinct of continu- 
ally jumping up with muddy paws and soiling spotless 
white duck suits. Tommy is a famous mouser, and holds 
his own in the household. Jealous in the extreme of my 
caresses bestowed on the monkey and the house-dog, he 
falls tooth and nail upon the old warrior-hound, and 
spitefully boxes his ears. But the grinning, gibbering 
and chattering Jacko beats him out of the field in no time ; 
and, minus some tufts of fur, Tommy disappears to the 
copra shed to hunt mice, where you can hear the old 
fellow growling and grumbling to himself for hours 
amongst the nuts. 

Towards evening Lewis returned, and after dipping 
deeply into Lamotrek and Satawal words, he warned me 
of the unreliable character of the natives of central Caro- 
lines in general. " There's something queer about those 
Pulawat (Enderby I.) folk. 'Tisn't safe to go in their 
lagoon. They've cut off several vessels, and about six 
years ago they did for a trader called Shortman, as well 
as a Portuguese and a Japanese. The Hall Islanders 
aren't what you might call safe either, and the people of 
Losap aren't easy to get on with. In 1882, at a place 


called Onon, some way north of Ruk, the natives killed a 
native of Dublin called Edward Vowell, with the object 
of getting his native wife and going through his store. 
The Spanish always promised reparation, but it never 
came. The fact is, they won't punish the beggars, and 
the natives think they can do as they like. Why, it was 
only the other day that a Spanish cruiser went down to 
Tol to punish a chief who had murdered a Japanese 
trader, with never a reason but robbery. Do you think 
they punished him ? Not much. He climbs on board 
and looks round him as bold as brass, and the commander 
gives him a glass of wine and a good dinner, and plenty 
to smoke, and some dollars as well. If they'd just hang 
a few of the chiefs it would all come right soon enough. 
Now the Japs wanted the other day to buy the group, and 
offered the Spanish six millions of dollars for it, but the 
Dons wouldn't deal at any price. You may be sure that 
if the Japs had the group there would be trouble coming 
pretty quick for some of those chiefs. One day the 
Spanish will be sorry they didn't fix the bargain when 
they had the chance. The way they spoil the natives is 
clean against all reason. A white man's life is worth as 
much as a native's, or I should say it ought to be. But 
if he isn't a Spaniard they don't seem to think so." And 
my host subsides grumbling under his mosquito-bar, and 
slumbers undismayed by the fierce roarings of the insect 
host trumpeting without the veil. 



THE day after the trip on the bamboo raft Lewis went 
across the island again to hunt up more coconuts for 
the copra-shed, and Fatumak the Minister of the Woods and 
Interior turned up to take me down towards Goror in the 
southern promontory, where he said I should find some 
interesting relics of the olden time. We started out on a 
well-paved road bordered by areca palms and crotons 
(Gotruk) and by neat bamboo fences, behind which lie 
picturesque native houses. Passing through the settle- 
ment we plunged into a maze of narrow lanes running 
between high embankments crowned thickly with mor or 
dwarf bamboo, which gives quite a Japanese aspect to the 
landscape. The whole of the south side of the main 
island is seamed with a network of these little roads 
frequently paved with blocks of stone. The path was so 
narrow that the feathery stalks of the bamboos interlaced 
overhead in places, but the way was quite clear underfoot. 
Looking at the abundant ferns and mosses mantling the 
banks on either side of the path one fancies one's self 
wandering in one of the deep green lanes of Devon or 
Somerset. The climbing fern winds her graceful spirals 
round the stems of healthy young saplings of the forest 
sprung from the seeds of towering parents which at short 
intervals droop their shadows athwart our way. We pass 
bright green clusters of dracaena, with their delicate spikes 
of lilac bloom, which the Yap folk call Rit or Rich. (Cf. 
Maori Rito, a bud : anything green and fresh.) The path- 
way leads uphill behind a wide valley decidedly marshy 
in character, abounding in jungle and dotted with clumps of 


Butral or wild ginger, with its purplish-mauve spikes of 
bloom, and of Tifif, a species of Canna or Indian-shot, 
which bears brilliant orange - yellow seeds. The path 
trends downwards over a little bridge until we reach a 
paved causeway with a thriving plantation of Lak or 
water-taro (Colocasia) with its broad arrow-headed leaves, 
reddish stems and pale yellow blossoms on our left, which 
recalls upon a small scale the magnificent lotus-pond in 
Tokio, the marvel of tourists, and the pride of Japanese 
landscape gardeners. Here and there a lofty banyan, 
with its shimmer of small-pointed leaves, looks down upon 
the rich tropical undergrowth of twining creeper and dense 
masses of fern, amongst which I discern my old acquaint- 
ance the Nase or Nahe of Southern Polynesia. {Cf. Pelews 
Ngas — a tree fern). We pass another Lak plantation made 
by the women of a slave village in the neighbourhood. 
Deep down it lies in a green hollow extending up the 
side of the hill in trim and regular beds planted out upon 
neat little terraces, banked up along the slope in true 
Japanese fashion. Those who question this may visit the 
Inland Sea, view the hill-slopes there, and set their doubts 
at rest. Scattered in the pathway underfoot lie the starry 
blossoms of the Tenga-uai or Cerbera lactaria, exhaling 
a sweet but heavy and sickly scent. Leaf, bark, and fruit 
alike contain a deadly poison, with the qualities of which 
both Micronesian and Polynesian are perfectly well 
acquainted. In fact, disappointed lovers on suicide intent 
frequently use the seeds, which, when swallowed, cause 
deadly spasms, speedily followed, however, by a merciful 

A densely-wooded belt runs along the road some way. 
I made out the native chestnut ( Voi), and the Maluek, a 
species of Morinda, closely akin to the plant from which 
the Malays and Polynesians alike obtain a rich yellow dye 
— under the shade of which the Amaral, a species of 
heavily-seeded nettle with a fiery sting, springs up 
amongst the stones. We came into a broad avenue 


flanked by tall forest trees, conspicuous amongst which is 
the Bioutch or Callophyllum, and the Abit, a curious tree 
bearing large dull-green fruit covered with yellowish 
patches, and shaped like a mango. The pulp of it is 
very sweet, but turns bitter on the palate. Natives relish 
it, but it has an offensive sickly odour that nauseates the 

Strolling down the broad way in the welcome shade, we 
enter the long straggling village of Onoth, and come upon 
an ancient burying-place. By the side of the road 
stretches a low square pavement faced on each side with 
erect stone blocks or slabs of various shapes and sizes, 
generally about two feet in height, most of them slanting 
forward a little and tapering at the end. According to 
Fatumak there are two words used in Yap to denote a 
pavement. The platforms or paved floorings of houses or 
courtyards are Paepae — the very word used in a slightly 
extended sense by Southern Polynesians. Those over 
graves or marking the limits of burial grounds are called 
" Una-pae." 

We rested awhile, and Fatumak brought out betel-nut, 
leaf and lime from his ever-ready pouch, without which no 
native would think of travelling, any more than a Scandi- 
navian peasant on his errands to fjord or sceter would for- 
get his flask of corn-brandy. By and by Fatumak waxes 
unexpectedly eloquent in broken English, and turns out 
to have been a proteg6 of ill-fated Captain Holcombe. 
Pursuing our way we passed one of the Big Houses, 
named Fe-Bai or Money- Houses, from the massive stone 
or quartz wheels, the Fe or native currency, piled up 
against their sides. The sun was very hot, so we turned 
aside from the road, and sat down on the foundation of 
an old house over-shadowed by a great Raual tree (the 
Kangit of Ponape). Around us thrives a grove of areca 
palms in all stages of growth, and hard by are some 
thorny brakes of wild orange (Gurgur-nu-Uap) and limes 
(Gurgur-morrech or morrets), with globes of golden fruit 


lying scattered at their roots thick as apples in a Devon- 
shire orchard at cider time. A boy, who met us on the 
way, and came along for curiosity, climbed a coconut 
tree, and fetched down some fine green nuts, the cool 
sweet water of which, with the addition of a few drops 
from a squeezed lime, made a most refreshing beverage 
after our hot walk. I complimented Fatumak on the 
neat roads leading through his parish and the surrounding 
districts, remarking that we were fortunate not to have 
made our journey on a rainy day. After heavy showers 
one would think each of these narrow lanes running 
between steep embankments must become a flooded 
ravine. It seems that every now and then in the rainy 
season a regular washaway occurs, upon which account 
the sides of the road are sometimes built or shored up 
with stone blocks. The neatness of the numerous roads 
intersecting this part of the island is a welcome contrast 
to the miserable forest trails of Ponape, where axe and 
knife are called for almost every minute to pass any way 
into the interior. The thick clumps of bamboo planted 
along the tops of the Yap embankments doubtless serve 
the double purpose of binding together the soil with their 
clinging root-fibres, and at the same time by their steady 
and vigorous growth of holding in check the everspread- 
ing multitudes of weed and creeper. The Hebrew pro- 
phet's figure of desolation, " a lodge in a garden of cucum- 
bers," is expressive indeed to one who has viewed and 
fought with the hosts of the tropical forest. Rudyard 
Kipling knows and tells us what the Rukh of India can 
do. No vain words were those of Mowgli, Child of the 
Jungle, to Hathi, the Wild Elephant, when he bids him 
" let in the biish " upon the settlement of the unjust 
villagers, and blot out gardens, rice-fields, houses and all. 
The Hindu, fight as he may, but too often fights in vain, 
but the sturdy man of Yap says to Nature, " Thus 
far," and rolls back the invading forest from his little 


It is really pretty to see some of the paved causeways 
which are exactly similar to those which so struck Captain 
Wilson of the Antelope in the neighbouring group of the 
Pelews. When the path takes a steep gradient uphill, 
little flights of steps ascend it in true Japanese style, and 
one looks around instinctively to see a stone lantern, a 
Buddhist image, or the double cruciform outline of a 
graceful Torii confronting one, arching the wayside gate- 
way of some woodland shrine. But here our fancy cheats 
us, and one wanders on with a sense of something lacking 
to make up a perfect scene. 

Quitting our grove of palms we wend our way through 
Onoth until we reach the settlement of Goror, where we 
encounter a curious old mound on the left side of the 
roadway — the site of the ancient house of a chief of fame 
called Tol-Riak. Below this is a terrace, studded with 
upright and pointed slabs of basalt standing upon a low 
platform some three feet above the path with pieces of Fe 
or stone wheels leaning against the side. The largest of 
these is seven feet high and over six feet across, the 
smallest from a foot to two feet in diameter. Facing 
this is a low flat Paepae or platform, length some fifty 
feet and some forty in breadth, faced by eight erect slabs 
of black stone, each between five and six feet apart. 

Whilst we are examining these odd-looking structures 
a tall, well set-up young man passed by and paused to 
wish us good-day. He wore on his neck a strikingly 
beautiful necklace of oblong scarlet shell-beads, fine at 
the ends and thick in the centre — a family heirloom 
which he refused to sell on any terms, probably looking 
upon it as a talisman. The natives call these TJiauai, 
and they are brought up from the Pelew Islands along 
with the precious stone and shell money. After making 
a rough sketch of Tol-Riak's house and the platforms, we 
departed, scrambling over a stone wall of aged and moss- 
grown appearance, which forms the boundary of the 
village, and return to Lai in time for the mid-day meal. 


That evening about eight o'clock Fatumak appeared 
to take me to see a native dance, so leaving Lewis 
busy at his accounts, we started off. About a quarter 
of an hour's walking brought us to a big house on 
the outskirts of the settlement of Ngiri, where little 
groups of folk were sitting on a raised stone platform 
chatting in the beautiful moonlight. Stopping a few 
moments to gossip, we leisurely strolled on through 
the waving shadows to the dance-house at the further end 
of the village, crossing several gitrikitral or little bridges 
of stone and Thith, or single felled palm-trunks spanning 
ravines or muddy pools which lie in our path. These 
latter required some effort of balance to negotiate safely. 
We found some forty persons assembled, and more kept 
dropping in by twos and threes until behold, a goodly 
company seated on their mats spread out on the sandy 
soil. Numbers of dried coconut shells with abundance 
of dry husk were being piled up into three heaps ready 
to be set on fire to illuminate the proceedings at the 
proper moment. A band of intending performers are 
busy stripping the leaflets from palm-fronds and twisting 
them up into odd shapes like horns for head ornaments 
to stick into their bushy periwigs, producing a wild and 
weird effect in the firelight which now began to flicker. 
They also bind them like ribands or fillets round their 
legs, ankles and wrists. At last a row of some twenty 
figures, all men, forms up with their backs to the stone 
platform, and a cluster of small boys at the end to the 
left. After one or two false starts the orchestra gets 
under weigh. The line of dancers is swaying in rhythm 
to a wild chant pitched in the dolefullest of minor keys, 
clapping their hands in time, and slapping their chests 
and thighs at regular intervals with a report like pistol- 
shots. Some are garlanded green with fern, others wear 
bead-necklaces. Some wear bunches of flowers stuck 
behind their ears ; all of them unclothed save for the 
usual cincture of grass or leaf-filaments. Some wear Roai 


or carven wooden combs — the emblem of the Pilung 
or upper classes, stuck in front of their fuzzy chevelure 
— a motely assemblage. Many of the contortionists 
wear a slight beard — a thing rarely seen in Ponape, 
as it is generally eradicated by shell tweezers. The 
chants, doubtless full of poetic fancy and topical, not 
to say tropical, allusion, sound like a dismal long-drawn 
caterwaul to a stranger's ear. Oh for a phonograph 
or graphophone to bottle up these quaint cacophonies, 
and photograph the sound of each and every syllable 
on its unerring cylinders. It would surely create a 
lively impression and would turn out the most sensa- 
tional miracle yet performed by a white visitor to these 
out-of-the-way regions. Imagine the horror of some 
good old heathen at the uncanny machine all ears and 
voice, giving back the very words and tone of some 
wild, rollicking chorus. I'm afraid at first it would 
prove too much for his nerves, though after a while 
perhaps the mysterious engine might lose some of its 

The bonfire is now blazing away merrily. Three 
large piles of the oily shells are crackling, sputtering 
and pouring out on every side, pungent whiffs and 
spurts of eddying smoke and trains of hissing sparks, 
for the wind sweeps freshly through the groves to-night. 
A simultaneous war-whoop echoes down the line of 
straining bodies, and the first part of the performance 
is over. 

The antic contingent of small boys who have been 
chiming in shrilly throughout, disperses, melting off 
into the dark groves beyond like a troop of chattering 
little monkeys. 

There is a brief interval devoted to betel-nut chewing 
and smoking Ligich or native cigarettes, and shells of 
Atchif, sweet coco-toddy (the Ati of the Mortlock 
islanders), are handed round. 

The second performance starts with a prodigious 


rhythmic clapping of hands. The chant rises higher and 
shriller, running up the scales, and missing or jumping 
several notes of the natural sequence in a manner which 
to a European ear leaves the strangest sense of something 
incomplete. Are these folk tone-deaf? 

The central figure in the row is a tall burly native 
dressed in the scantiest of girdles, bristling with dozens of 
split and twisted coconut leaflets disposed like streamers 
shimmering and waving about his person. The chant 
ends as before in another deep-throated war-cry. 

Here a brisk shower of rain drives us indoors for 
awhile, but the unconquered bonfire burns bravely on. 

The third and last scene resembles a Maori Haka or 
war-dance. All stand up in line striking up a livelier 
chant with a trampling accompaniment which goes faster 
and faster as the dancers warm to their work. The 
artists alternately face front and flank, swaying bodies in 
unison, marking off the cadence with a measured stamp- 
ing. This dance is named after that rascally hen-roost 
robber, the Galuf or Iguana, a personage much in evidence 
in local legend — the sinuous turns and twists and violent 
convulsions of limb interpreting the stealthy and serpentine 
movements of the creature prowling on its marauding 
errands. When the chanting and trampling are at their 
highest, a long-drawn triple yell marks the climax, and 
the figure abruptly ends. 

Fatumak, sitting close by on his mat, puts in his word. 
" Galuf he one big thief — all same dog he eat egg (' hen- 
fruit,' sic), he steal meat." To the question, " Are the 
Galuf and the dogs the only thieves in Yap ? " my truth- 
ful mentor replies, " Plenty Yap man go steal. First he 
make pray one god, Luk ; he help him — other man no can 
catch. All same me think that god plenty busy all the 
time. Sometimes man he pray — what for Luk no hear ? 
Thief get punish." 

Can the wise and benevolent-looking Fatumak be 
thinking of some youthful escapade that brought him a 


smarting skin, or maybe a broken head ? He looks 
away, and promptly turns the subject, and falls to praising 
the skill of Yap natives in dancing. The performance 
which we had just witnessed was very much the same as 
those in vogue in Ponape and the Marquesas. All over 
the Pacific the pastime has been strongly discountenanced 
by zealous missionaries as savouring too much of heathenish 
superstition and laxity. It is true that some of them have 
objectionable features, yet many of them are graceful and 
refined, and would prove a decided novelty and attraction 
in a London drawing-room. 

The night's entertainment is over, and the party is 
breaking up and parting salutations are passing. " Quefel 
a nep — mol." " Good is the night — sleep ! " Followed 
by a shower of farewell greetings we made for home, 
gliding over the slippery wooden bridges, striding low 
walls and trunks of fallen trees, and "padding" through 
mud and over stones — the cicalas shrilling in the moon- 
light, and the palmfronds fluttering in the trade overhead, 
and flinging a thousand waving shadows athwart our 

A few days later Fatumak and I determined to go 
across the island to Milai, examine the shrubs, trees and 
plants, and collect some of the seeds of the more interesting 
of them. Ngiri lay first on our way with its trim court- 
yards enclosed by fences of bamboo and thorny acacia, 
and the inevitable limestone, calcite or arragonite money- 
wheels propped up against the foundations of the more 
pretentious dwellings. Our party consisted of five boys 
carrying baskets, besides Fatumak and myself. We 
crossed numerous little stone bridges, each composed of a 
single large flat slab like those of China and Japan, and 
before long arrived at the structure known as Fana-Mouk, 
the great house of Tanis, a chief of old, whose burial- 
place lies below. The lower platform is about three feet 
above the ground, with five Fe or limestone wheels leaning 
against its front, two of them supported behind between 


a couple of upright slabs to keep them in place. The 
upper tier — four feet in height — is ornamented by a 
line of twelve upright pointed slabs of basalt. Above 
are still standing the rudely carved pillars — about twenty 
feet in height — that once supported the edifice, of which 
a portion of the skeleton only is left. Across the road to 
the left is a low flat evenly paved platform facing the 
larger one. Behind this is a flat table of coral called 
Rorou, supported evenly upon four pieces of rock, doubt- 
less for some superstitious observance of olden time. (A 
similar contrivance is seen upon the site of the Devil- 
Temple upon Bau in Fiji, and at Gaua upon St Maria in 
the Banks group.) 

Our survey over we climbed the little hill at the back 
of the settlement, following a narrow pathway neatly 
paved with level blocks of stone, then after going down 
a line of cane-fences bordered by palms, crotons and tall 
dracaenas, we passed a little cluster of houses, one of the 
numerous bush settlements rarely trodden by the foot of 
a white man. By the roadside growing out by a fence is 
a species of wild fig, Ote or Wote, bearing small reddish 
rough fruits on its trunk after the manner of the Malay 
apple or Eugenia. Yet another of these Unapei or queer 
stone platforms lies on our left. This the folk call Koyam. 
Our way winds in and out some lovely fresh green lanes, 
and again I am struck with the luxuriance and beauty of 
the ferns, the Lobat, a delicate species of Adiantum or 
maiden-hair, being specially prominent. Then our road 
turns into a high causeway running through a series of 
swamps with clumps of taro planted thick amongst the 
plashy hollows. The fertility of the soil must be very 
great, almost equalling in richness the valleys of Tahiti. 
Abundant signs of cultivation are seen on every hand in 
the numerous yam-vines carefully trained and festooned 
around the protecting trunks and boughs of the trees that 
overshadow their hidden tubers. We saw on our way 
three sorts of butterflies, the marsh fritillary, the small 



sulphur, and small blue ; of other winged life, two or 
three little dark coloured bush-birds, possibly a species 
of Myagra or Fly-catcher. Tahiti fully parallels Yap 
in the scarcity of land-birds, which is rather strange, 
considering the far superior area of the first-mentioned 
island. We passed on through Petalan, where there is 
a small Fe-Bai or Club House, and after climbing another 
short hill stairway we came to an ancient cemetery where 
we saw four or five low burial platforms occupying the 
centre of an open square. Around them were growing 
various shrubs and saplings, amongst them a sturdy 
custard-apple tree, which the Yap natives call Sausau, 
and the Ponapeans Chai or prickly (to which latter root 
the Yap word " Choi" for the pandanus or screw pine is 
also referable). Along our route we noticed a variety 
of wild ginger with a dark red spike of flowers, the 
Ramilu with its huge long clubbed leaves (the Tong of 
Ponape), a sort of thornless acacia (Gumar), a species of 
paper mulberry ( Wapof), a Callophyllum, with pear-shaped 
fruits, plenty of wild pandanus and arrowroot, and several 
other shrubs and forest trees well known to me in Ponape, 
amongst which I recognised the tree bearing the valuable 
varnish-nut, the Adidh or Adid of Yap, the Ais of Ponape, 
the A set of the Mortlock Group {P armarium laurinuni). 

We pass through numerous plantations of swamp-taro, 
the causeway on either side bordered by a deep cutting. 
We are drawing near to Milai — Anglice, " The Plantation 
or Garden" (Cf. Samoan Malae, a clearing, village green). 
It is well-named. To our right and left is a perfect nursery 
of yam-vines, holding fast with clinging tendril, and spiral 
winding stem to the breadfruit trees that shade them. As 
we marched down the central avenue of the village amidst 
the yapping of half an hundred Pillis or yellow dogs, and 
the audible comments of a dozen or two idlers, we fancied 
at first there are two or three sailing vessels in harbour. 
From a nearer view, however, we sighted a big pile of 
stones, bristling with tottering poles, the " disjecta 


membra " of an ancient lodge or club house, built on 
foundations solid as Brighton pier, looking down upon 
the tides that for many a year have been lapping idly at 
its base. The natives give the pile the name of Masisin. 
As we halted on the beach a bevy of the local " Bad Boys " 
pushed forward and displayed a vast interest in the Obachai 
or foreigner. Patiently I sat taking notes, with a crowd of 
little ebon rogues chattering and gibbering around me. 
Presently Fatumak dashed in and administered several 
sounding slaps, which induced the juvenile Hooligans to 
withdraw to a distance, where they stood hushed in re- 
spectful silence, turning up the whites of their eyes in 
deprecation, like a fox-terrier at the harsh and severe voice 
of her chiding master. Fragments of subdued chatter pre- 
sently reach us, Felagan y felagan, babier, " Scratch away, 
scratch away at paper" ; Machamach tarreb-arragon, "Magic 
all same " ; Dakori i tamadag, " I'm not scared a bit " ; 
Kan, kan, tarreb-arragon a kan, " Devil, devil, all same 

In Milai the Capuchin Padres have a station whence 
no doubt they exercise much influence for good amongst 
this simple and primitive folk, whose nature is the 
strangest medley of conflicting qualities. A truly 
wonderful indolence alternates with equally wonderful 
spells of industry. A very remarkable and unique scheme 
of national morality balances the licensed debauchery of 
the Big House. Yap men are middling honest, yet they 
count in their Pantheon a patron saint of Thieves. Once 
they were great navigators, warriors, and astronomers. 
Now, instead of taking the trouble of going up to Uleai 
and Mokomok and Pulawat, they let their tributaries or 
vassals have the trouble of the journey down. Now and 
then they indulge in a mild skirmish amongst themselves, 
generally over the abduction of some local Lady Asenath, 
or, as the Japanese would term it, Geisha girl. The young 
men only remember astronomy enough to plant yams by 
and look out for wet weather, but the old men know the 


ancient names of the stars from north to south and east 
to west {Cf. list of Yap star names and days of the 
moon's age in Appendix). Altogether the people of 
Yap are a new type, full of interest for the anthropologist. 
Their very virtues are as illogical as their vices. 

Whilst we were sitting thus moralising on the strand of 
Milai in the blazing noontide, one of the village chiefs 
appeared on the scene. I gave him a strong cigar, which, 
after puffing some little while, he passed over to one of 
the small boys, who fitted the stump into a long bamboo 
tube, and thus equipped strutted up and down the beach, 
thrusting out his little stomach before him like a pouter- 

Fatumak handed some betel-nut to one curious 
youngster, who attempted to chew his first quid with 
doleful results to himself and to the huge delight of the 
mirthful imps, his comrades. 

After taking a few more notes on Yap methods of 
canoe-building we started to return, passing along a 
smooth stone causeway which runs about two miles 
parallel with the sea, under an avenue of palms which 
leads us up to the settlement of Gal or Kdl. Soon after 
leaving Gal we come to a road cut between two steep 
embankments of rich red soil. This path, solidly and 
evenly paved with fiat blocks of basalt, leads over the 
little hill-rise down to the fertile lowlands of Nimiguil. 
A little further on we came to a steep bluff where a Pal 
or house, tabu to the women, overhangs the road, built 
out upon a substantial pile of stones. As we struck 
inland two of the Big Houses came in view with plenty 
of stone money as usual piled against their foundations. 
Some of these must be very old, as they are all over 
cracks, with ferns and weeds actually growing out of 
them. Propped up against a platform on our left we 
passed a huge specimen twelve feet in diameter, a foot 
and a half in thickness, and the hole in the centre two 
and a half feet across. A little further on we saw a 


second platform on the right side of the road. Leaning 
against it was another piece of these cumbrous tokens of 
wealth with an inner circle cut lightly round the hole 
in the centre. These mark the settlement of Ginifai. A 
brisk shower of rain drove us into the shelter of the 
nearest house. When the sun shone out again we re- 
sumed our journey, crossing a creek by a bridge of felled 
coconut palm trunks. Another of the Big Houses was 
passed, the platform below it faced with erect basalt 
slabs, some inclining to a conical form, with the inevitable 
wheels of limestone propped up below against its base. 
Our path lies over another rising bit of ground, bordered 
with Crotons and Dracaenas and bamboo fences. The 
morning glory runs riot in the brushwood, and here and 
there in the jungle wave the feathery tassels of the Rei, a 
sort of reedgrass. There we noticed an orange-fruited 
Canna or Indian shot, and a great quantity of wild 
pandanus (N'er). 

We reached the bush town of Tabinif on the top of 
the ridge. Thence the path trends downhill past a 
large pond of Lak or Aquatic-taro which is blossoming 
out into large yellowish spathes, the very image of one 
of our hothouse arum lilies. We caught sight of more 
ancient stone platforms considerably overgrown with 
weeds, and found our way down to a primitive sort of 
village called Balakong after a long tramp along a 
causeway running through the salt-marshes parallel with 
the sea. The mudflats on either hand were pitted thickly 
with the holes of a little black and white speckled 
crab, each armed with one scarlet claw of a ridiculously 
disproportionate size. By the wayside we found growing 
a burr-bearing plant called Kurrukur and a curious 
marsh-weed, bearing on its stem instead of flowers soft 
red spongy caps like little fungi. 

After crossing a shallow creek bridged with coconut 
trunks we reached the outskirts of Ngiri and so on to 
Lai, where we found Lewis still busy amongst the 


coconuts and trading accounts. A venerable old man 
was with him, whose long black beard streaked with 
grey gave him a most patriarchal appearance. He was 
one of the hundred Yap men to whom the King of 
Korror in the Pelews gave permission in 1882 to 
quarry out the wheel-money from the limestone rocks 
of Kokial in the neighbourhood. His name was Takabau, 
somewhat recalling the name of Thakombau, a former 
monarch of Fiji. From him I took some lessons in 
Pelew that very afternoon, and learned some very strange 
and harsh sounds which would be a wonderful addition 
to the stock-in-trade of a travelling conjurer-man at a 
country fair. I subjoin a few of the dulcet sounds 
taken at random to give an idea of Pelew phonesis. 
Parakarakuih means to adhere ; Thillakuthuk is cement ; 
Umbebakokle to go afloat ; Friendship is Klubbakul ; 
Ancient is Arakwothal\ To sleep, Mokoivivi ; To bake, 
Gnulsekkle ; Bright, Mongulthoyok ; Cold, Kullakult ; 
Dark, Milkulk ; Dish, Koknal ; Ebb-tide, Krakus ; 
Story, Kulthakathuk ; Foolish, Dengarengal\ Hard, 
Tharakarak ; Hot, Klald, Kald, Keald ; Lobster, Karab- 
rukkle ; Frog, Thagathuk. 

Between Pelew lessons and Lewis' Lamotrek yarns 
and Juan's tales of the Mariannes time passes quickly, 
and the pencil scampers merrily over paper. 



IN the morning Gilemegak brought two bits of orange- 
red rock ,from Elik, and a peculiar black and white 
banded species of cray-fish called Tumal (Palinurus). 
About two o'clock in the afternoon we embarked on 
Lewis' China-rigged sailing-boat — two men, two boys, 
one Marianne man, Lewis and self. Fatumak we picked 
up at Ngiri. The occasion of our visit to the colony 
was the marriage of Lewis' employer F., of the German 
firm at Rul. to a Marianne girl. Now this calls for 
some little explanation. Traders in Yap seem to find 
a life of single blessedness tedious, and as white women 
in these parts are about as rare as snowflakes in summer, 
it follows that an alliance more or less permanent must 
follow with the daughters of the soil. But Yap ladies 
are very, very dark, and by no means remarkable as 
a rule for personal charms, so it is only rarely that 
one of these is chosen. Moreover, the Yap papas, with 
more wisdom than one would have expected from them, 
entertain a decided objection to a white son-in-law. 
They use a proverb — Roro fan roro, wetsewets fan 
wetsewets, rongadu fan rongadu. " Black to black, white 
to white, red to red." All the rest is balebalean or folly. 
Now note a beautiful provision of Nature. In the 
Marianne or Ladrone Group some 450 miles up north, 
the female native population considerably exceeds the 
male. There are in consequence many marriageable 
young girls of the Chamorro or aboriginal race of the 
g roU p — a handsome debonnair Malayan people of light- 
brown complexion who do not share the prejudices of 



the Yap folk against the white man. These Marianne 
ladies are supposed to make excellent housewives, and 
in consequence are much sought after by the traders 
of Yap. But remark here the absence of those irregular 
alliances so frequent in the Pelew Islands and the 
Eastern Carolines. The Catholic priests set themselves 
most strongly against such practices, insisting on an 
ecclesiastical marriage of the contracting parties. This 
marriage, moreover, they will not solemnise without 
first making strict inquiry into the antecedents of the 
parties, and before the husband, whether Jew or Pro- 
testant, becomes formally reconciled to the Catholic 
Church. I fear, however, that many hollow conversions 
follow in consequence. I certainly don't think the 
worthy F. had any very deep convictions. 

But to continue. The apparel of our crew was of 
the very scantiest description and would put a London 
County Council to headlong rout. The man at the 
helm, the best dressed of the crew, wore a shabby old 
brown hat, an equally disreputable jacket of blue 
dungaree almost dropping to pieces with age, and the 
narrowest of native girdles of cloth. The crew were 
dressed in meagre cinctures of coconut leaf filaments 
or beaten-out fibres of hibiscus bark. Shirts from their 
rarity are much prized in Yap, and trousers, when worn 
at all, are used as a sort of shawl, the legs tightly 
knotted in front and falling over the chest. Every 
native on board carries with him a basket filled with 
the threefold apparatus for chewing betel. (1) A stock 
of betel-nuts which look something like big acorns, the 
fruit of the Areca palm (called Pilg in India, Pagua 
in the Mariannes, Buok in the Pelews, Bu in Yap, and 
Bonga in the Philippines, the Malay Archipelago and 
even in the Micronesian area). (2) A bundle of leaves 
from a species of Piper Methysticum (variously called 
in Yap Langgil, Thlanggil, or Gabui). These are used 
as an envelope for the quid, to which their pungency 


lends an agreeable zest. (3) The third constituent is 
the lime, the chunam of the Malays, carried in a bamboo 
tube sometimes covered with quaint tracery of carved 

(The parallel and connection between betel-nut chewing 
and kava-drinking has been noticed at some length in 
the description of kava-making in Ponape, and may be 
of interest to those who study the foodstuffs of native 

The betel-nut chewing grievously blackens the teeth, 
reddens the saliva, and imparts an extra tinge of carmine 
to the lips, which does not enhance the attraction of these 
homely ebon countenances. 

We reached Gerard's island of Ngingich about midday, 
and in the afternoon went ashore to attend F.'s marriage, 
and the feast that followed it. The wedding went off as 
such matters usually do, the bride painfully shy, the bride- 
groom nervous and fidgety, the priest stern and austere. 
No slippers, no showers of rice, and no wedding cake. 
The folk who seemed the merriest were the Marianne 
relatives and the native servants and workmen, who 
scented goodly pickings to come from bakehouse, oven, 
and store-room. Our host indeed gave us a very good 
dinner, and towards evening things went merrily. Next 
morning I found the indefatigable F. had risen early, and 
was counting over a large number of empty bottles with 
a thoughtful countenance. This done he proceeded to 
stock-taking, entering copious notes in a great ledger — 
the beau-ideal of a business man — patient, thorough, and 
minutely exact in all his dealings ; a bit of a slow-coach, 
perhaps, and lacking his neighbour Gerard's brilliant 
capacity for native languages, but for all that a fair type 
of the material from which Germany, if her methods were 
a little more up-to-date, could build up many a successful 
colony in the Pacific. This the Godeffroys of Hamburg 
in the past sixty years have proved beyond question by 
the well-educated and industrious type of traders whom 


they selected to represent their interests in these out-of- 
the-way regions. And this gives Germany a considerable 
advantage over her trading rivals in Pacific waters. A 
glance at any of R. L. Stevenson's or L. Becke's South 
Sea sketches and short tales will give the reverse of the 
picture, showing the ungenerous animus felt and shown by 
but too many English-speaking rivals of these Germans in 
the wide trading competition in Pacific lands. 

Nov. 16th. — Meeting Mr E., O'Keefe's manager on 
Tarrang Island, I made an agreement to finish my work 
at Lai with Lewis, and to return in a few days to spend 
the rest of my time in Yap, under O'Keefe's hospitable 
roof. Then if I wished to see the northern part of Yap, 
where many interesting ancient remains were to be found, a 
boat and crew would be placed at my disposal to take me 
up to Pilau, where O'Keefe had a station looked after by an 
intelligent Sonsorol boy who would help me in all matters 
needful. So on this understanding Lewis and I returned 
by sea to Lai, putting in for an hour at the wharf at 
Iloech in order to set down Lewis' son and daughter, who 
had to walk over to the Catholic school of Santa Cruz, 
lying about two miles up country from the landing-place. 
The wharf lay amongst a belt of white mangroves. It 
was about two hundred yards long, compactly and neatly 
built of coral blocks. In Yap, as in the Pelews, these 
structures are called Kades or Kachers. A Big House 
was looking down upon the creek, faced as usual with some 
limestone wheels. The height of the upper and lower 
platforms on which it stands was ten feet. The high 
pointed gable, bisected in the middle by a ridge projecting 
outwards at an angle at the end, gave it a curious and 
striking appearance. 

We arrived at Lai in the evening, and next day I got 
Fatumak to fix up another fofod or bamboo raft in order 
to go down to the islet of Elik, near Goror Point, Yap's 
Land's End, and get some more pieces of the orange- 
coloured rock. On our way down we examined some 


stone fish-weirs near the Catholic mission station, as well 
as a mighty terrace built of basalt and coral blocks 
running a little way out into the shallow water, the 
remains of one of the club houses, which, to judge 
from the loftiness of the ridge-poles with which it 
bristles, must have been a very conspicuous object out 
at sea. When the tide ebbed we picked up a good many 
pink and white spiral shells on the reef, and added some 
sea-spiders and crabs to the collection of marine creatures, 
turning over the blocks of coral and disturbing a good 
many Goloth or sea-eels (muraena) from their hiding 
places. Fatumak, trying to catch a small crab, in- 
cautiously put his hand into a deep crack and was 
instantly seized by the finger with a set of needle-like 
fangs. With frenzied cries of " Wei- Wei- Wei," he danced 
wildly around in the shallow water with an enraged 
Goloth hanging on tight as a bull-dog, and his rage was 
not assuaged until he had chopped his foe into little bits 
with a long knife. The pantomime of his sufferings was 
noticed by a party of native workmen who were busy 
near the fishpen loading up a canoe with sea-weed to use 
as a fertiliser for the local Padre's kitchen garden. In 
place of sympathy, they greeted my companion's mis- 
hap with an unfeeling cackle of laughter, upon which he 
angrily rebuked the gatherers of vegetable refuse for the 
menial nature of their employment and their beggarly 
appearance. They certainly looked a remarkable crew 
with their Ruatch or wide hats of pandanus leaf, shaped 
exactly like those of Chinese coolies, whilst their ragged 
attire, lean bodies, and hollow, staring eyes, gave them a 
distinctly doleful and starveling air. 

After this little adventure we made our way down to 
Elik and chipped off the required geological specimens. 
I wanted to double Goror Point, but Fatumak advised 
me not to make the attempt unless in a stout canoe, for 
the water was deep under the tail of the island, and there 
were strong currents which might sweep us out to sea. 


Moreover, the deeper pools in the lagoon at South Point 
swarmed with sharks (Aiong),hy no means an encouraging 
reflection to two navigators in so frail a craft as our 
bamboo raft. 

On my return to Lai, Juan, Lewis' Marianne brother-in- 
law, told me a tragic tale from Guam of the suicide of two 
lovers who threw themselves from a cliff overlooking the 
Diamond Bridge near Agafia. He also gave us an eerie story 
of the apparition of a spectral white deer to his grandfather 
hunting in the dusk in the woods above Port Luis. The 
dog refused to follow, but the hunter went on, and, in his 
eagerness on the trail, fell over a precipice and got 
severely shaken and bruised. For my part, I tell Juan 
that the best method of raising spirits is to pour them 
down pretty often. According to Juan's account, this is 
no uncommon trick of the woodland spirits to play on 
mortal men who rashly invade the mountain wilderness. 
This superstition answers to the Bake-mono of Japan, and 
to that of the Puka of Irish legend, the keynote of many 
of the fables of the land of Nippon. It seems very 
deeply fixed in human nature, for we find the idea 
universal. What first gave rise to so singular a notion 
is a problem that few would care to solve offhand. 

The next two days Lewis, who for a wonder was not 
chasing after copra, as if the trees would the next minute 
stop bearing for ever, told me a great deal about 
Lamotrek star names, which agree very well (1) with 
some of their equivalents I got in Ponape ; (2) with the 
list collected by Kubary in the Mortlock Islands ; (3) 
with those I afterwards obtained in Yap from Lirou, the 
chief of Tomil ; (4) with the Uleai star names obtained 
by Chamisso as early as 18 15. They illustrate the 
intelligence, enterprise, and great astronomical knowledge 
of the early Caroline Island navigators, and agree in a 
marvellous manner from west to east of the group, which, 
as aforesaid, embraces over six hundred islands and a 
total sea and land surface of some 1,800,000 square 


miles, all along which area the star names are practically 
the same. The curious reader will see the Ponape, Mort- 
lock, Lamotrek, Yap, and Uleai star-names and days of 
the moon's age classified together in the Appendix. 

On making inquiries about the interesting subject of 
tattooing, which natives call Eloi or Iloi, it was found that 
the ceremony was universally practised and free to all. 
Compare the Samoan verb Elei, to mark or stamp the 
native cloth with designs from the Upeti or printing- 
frame, or again the root may be the Maori Iro (Whaka- 
iro, to write or carve). The Japanese word Iro, colour, 
may be a remote derivative. Taking Taman, a stalwart 
native from Goror district for an example, I noticed that 
on his chest were marked two large representations of the 
Roai or Ruai, the native comb of the wood of the white 
mangrove, the shape of which greatly resembles those 
from North New Guinea and the Solomon Islands seen 
in the British Museum. Around the thighs ran a dense 
fish-tail ornamentation, which, with the chevron, is a fre- 
quent feature of Yap designs. On asking whether there 
are any very aged men upon Yap, my informant re- 
plied that there was one in Goror over a hundred years 
old, by name Giltuk. On arriving at the marriageable age 
the young Yap native wears a cord dyed a dull red, of the 
baste of the Kal or Hibiscus tiliaceus bark, twisted round 
his loins or worn around his neck. Like the Ponapeans, 
they use the bark of the mangrove as a colouring agent, 
and from it extract a yellow or reddish brown dye. 

On the 1 9th of November I returned laden with curios, 
and took up my quarters on Tarrang with Mr E. Cap- 
tain O'Keefe was still an absentee. Mrs O'Keefe, a Nauru 
lady who speaks excellent English, received me most 
graciously, and set apart a Sonsorol boy named Matsis to 
wait on me. Naturally his name soon became corrupted 
into " Matches," a designation which sorted well with his 
occasional flashes of ill-humour whenever Mr E., who is a 
somewhat choleric individual, threatened to lay him out 


with a " stuffed club " for carelessness or slurring over his 
duties, which in the busiest times were not very onerous. 

On Sunday I was staying over at Gerard's island of 
Ningich, so on Monday, November 22nd, the sailing boat 
Eugenie turned up at the wharf in charge of Xavier, a half- 
caste Portuguese, to take me and my belongings up to 
Pilau. We started about eight o'clock on a lovely morn- 
ing with a pleasant breeze, and leaving Tarrang's picturesque 
island astern we ran along inshore of Tomil and its border- 
ing of mangrove clumps. After many tacks we got past 
Tomil Point, and cracked on all sail, calling to mind E.'s 
missive, " Get away quick from Ningich and up coast with 
the half-tide, for there is a place up north which the 
vessel can only get through at high tide. Whatever 
other stores you want, you can get from Gerard's trader, 
C. Brugmann, over at Map. If O'Keefe returns whilst 
you are away we will send up a boy overland, or the 
Eugenie shall come to fetch you back." 

Sweeping along towards Gatchepa, one notices the tall 
terra-cotta hued gables of the club houses shooting up 
between the clustering masses of coconut palm clothing 
the lowlands in a waving robe of tenderest green. Behind 
them the slopes, clear of bush, lead up to the crowning 
plateau some five hundred feet above sea level. The wind 
presently fell, leaving us drifting slowly on in the fierce 
rays of the noonday sun. On looking over the cargo 
I was amazed at the quantity of canned goods, beer, 
kerosene and tobacco piled up in the trim little craft. I 
felt quite like one of the novelist's traders starting a new 
station, and indeed that mode of life was really to be 
mine for a week or so, except that curios and not copra 
were the objects of my search. Naturally I asked some 
questions of the Macao man to guide me in my barter- 
ing operations. I found that the natives did not at all 
understand the value of foreign money. They seem to 
have no sense of proportion whatever. When visiting the 
European settlement at Tomil, they have been known to 


pay down three or four dollars for a few sticks of tobacco 
at twenty-seven to the pound. On the other hand, in 
their simplicity they will tender a meagre half-dollar for a 
musket or cross-cut saw. Nearly all business there goes 
by barter. Shells of the pearl-oyster, of which there is a 
large yearly output from the Pamotus or Low Archipelago, 
are imported from Tahiti at a moderate rate, and ex- 
changed for copra with the Yap people at a very profit- 
able rate, the natives preferring them to the Yar-ni-Balao 
or Pelew Island shell, which next to the stone money is 
their most favoured currency. Waist-cloths or Lablab 
(Samoan Lavalavd) of Turkey red for the young men, 
and blue or deep yellow for the old men, are held in high 
estimation ; medium sized fish hooks are also in demand. 
Tobacco appears to be eagerly sought for, to judge from 
the following equations : — 2 sticks of tobacco = I large 
fowl ; i stick of tobacco = I small fowl ; I box matches 
+ i stick of tobacco = 8 fish of moderate size ; I pair of 
coarse blue trousers and I Turkey red shirt = 3 weeks' 
wages ; but this last is looked on as rather extravagant 
pay, the recipient being greatly envied for his stately 
trappings, of which one of the district chiefs speedily 
relieves him. 

All this discussion served to kill time, the Eugenie 
continually tacking and tacking, losing two feet to 
advance three. E. had thoughtfully put in the boat a 
copy of Thackeray's " Virginians " from O'Keefe's well- 
stocked library. It seemed very incongruous with the 
surroundings, and vividly recalled to mind a certain 
Christmas-tide spent on Washington Island in the 
North Marquesas, when in my cottage at Vaipae Bay, 
in the intervals of dictionary - making and fishing, I 
used to read " David Copperfield " and " Great Expecta- 
tions," ancient volumes left there by certain dead and 
gone American settlers. It is wonderful how literature 
penetrates into this distant corner of the world. In a 
boatshed on the sands of Hana-mate or Deadman's Bay 


on Hiva-Oa I actually found a tattered copy of the 
Sporting Times. 

" Whence fluttered down this tale of Town, by land or 
sea or air ? How it came — well, I cannot tell, but it 
was surely there." Thinking of that little bit of pink 
paper brought back in a moment Ole Brer Rabbit, the 
Shifter, the Talepitcher, and " pore old Romano in the 
garb of old gall innercently exhibited " ; thence by a 
natural transition the mind turns to thoughts of restaur- 
ants and lunch. It is high time, for the sun overhead is 
looking straight down into the wells or pits in the reef 
where the octopus lurketh, to borrow a picturesque 
Samoan metaphor for high noon. " Ua nofo le Fee i le 
malua, ua nofo-i-fee foi le la." " The squid he sitteth in 
his cell, the sun he sits on top." All this while we have 
been slowly getting up to the south end of Map Island 
(so called, says E., because it wants mapping out again so 
badly after the incomplete Spanish survey). Close here 
is a village variously known as Amon, Umin or Amin, 
where there is a big stockade which the local natives have 
erected. They have a standing dispute with the people 
of Rekin, one of the neighbouring settlements, over the 
carrying off of some Mespil or slave-woman. Every now 
and then an angry band of neighbours come up and try to 
beat the children of Amon out of their lines. First, so my 
informant tells me, there is a vast deal of jabbering between 
the besiegers and besieged, like the noise of a monkey- 
house in full chatter, as a sort of prelude to serious busi- 
ness, each man vying with his opponent in the choicest 
native Billingsgate. Bit by bit their feelings are wrought 
up, and finally a more than usually brilliant flower of 
speech is the signal for a howling fracas. Spears and 
stones are thrown, and rusty muskets of ancient model 
are heard exploding in the din, the latter far more 
dangerous to friend than to foe. At last a man or two 
on either side is laid out with a spear through his body, 
or felled with a rap on the temple from a piece of rock 


meant for somebody else, and carried home for the 
Machamach men to doctor. The victorious defenders 
stand up mopping and mowing, and with all manner of 
ridiculous gestures mocking at their baffled foes. On the 
last occasion the insulting antics of one of the Amon 
chiefs, thinking himself well out of range, so irritated a 
white trader who had joined in the assault out of pure 
deviltry, that he took careful aim with his Winchester 
and made the chiefs comb leap in pieces out of his fuzzy 
periwig. The savage still capered away, a glorious mark 
against the sky, and a second shot stung him painfully on 
the fleshy part of the thigh, and the poor fellow, roaring 
like a bull, straightway leaped down on the heads of his 
fellows below, who like the monks when the Devil lets the 
squealing lay-brother fall from his red-hot talons amongst 

"As they up-gazed in sore confusion 
Were all knocked down by the concussion." 

This same trader, who was a splendid marksman, of 
course had not fired to kill. I had met him already 
myself. He had a touch of grim humour, if the follow- 
ing tale he told me of himself be true. It ran thus, and 
thus in turn I told it to my comrade in the boat. Whilst 
this practical joker was on a trading expedition up north, 
one of the district chiefs, an overbearing sort of man, tried 
to obtain a large credit with him, and at the same time 
beat down his prices to nearly zero. Failing in this, he 
threatened him in a very insolent manner. 

" Thing belong you all same belong me. S'pose I kill 
you I takum quick." " So that's your little game, is it ? " 
coolly observed the trader, drawing his revolver, " I'll teach 
a darned black nigger like you to know what's what." 
Now overhead there was a bunch of coconuts dangling 
from the mother tree. Bang went the first barrel, and 
out squirted a jet of milk from the nut ; a second and 
a third shot tapping two others of the cluster, which shed 


their milky blessings on the head of the chief below. 
" ' How d'ye like that,' said the marksman, turning his 
weapon full on the terrified chief. ' Your head's bigger 
and uglier than a coconut, eh ? and not so far off 
neither.' I thought that nigger would have dropped for 
sheer funk," ended this most unpeaceful man of com- 
merce, " and that was the last of any tall talk I got from 
him or his people, and a good job for them too." 

All this while we were making our way through a maze 
of wooden and stone fish-weirs which lie in the straits 
abreast of the isthmus of Girrigir. Between Walai and 
Maki the canal passage runs through clumps of man- 
groves and other salt water brush nearly dry at low tide 
— which E. had specially warned us to reach at high 
water. We passed a fine yam plantation on a hillside on 
our left, grown by a Walai chief who is said to be a 
friendly old fellow, and a perfect storehouse of ancient 
traditions. It soon became certain that we must wait off 
Walai until late in the afternoon, as the tide was falling 
fast and the channel rapidly shallowing down. The crew 
were continually jumping down and shouldering the 
Eugenie over the shoals — but all in vain, for at last we 
were stranded hopelessly amongst the mud-banks. As 
the monkish chroniclers of Danish invasions say, " It is 
tedious to tell how these matters went." At last the 
tide rose, and cautiously poling up some mysterious back- 
water or other we got into open water and sailed down, 
reaching the landing place at Pilau in the early dusk. 
We found " Konias " the Sonsorol boy at his post, who, 
directly he saw us coming, seized an unhappy fowl by the 
legs and slashed off its head. " S'pose no kill and eat 
Yap man he steal," serenely remarks the executioner. 
" One moon ago Missa Capen he send ten fowl. Him 
make plenty sakaigligyaia (Sonsorol for eggs). Rat he 
eatem. Three fowl he stop now — me no eat. Yap man 
he come dark — stelem. You speak Missa Capen he no 
angry too much." And I believe that the boy, who had 


a great awe of the redoubtable captain, in his odd fashion 
was telling the simple truth. 

The Eugenie sailed away and left me alone with my man 
Friday, who turned out an amiable, honest and intelligent 
lad, with a smattering of English. His peculiar Sonsorol 
accentuation transforming N's to R's, and L to Gl, and 
Gy was a new philological study in itself. (It is seen in 
Italian, cf. Egli for Latin lilt.) 

Early next morning I was awakened by a prodigious chat- 
tering. Six or seven natives were seated on the floor of the 
house with their backs to the wall, as if the place belonged 
to them ; others were squatted on the verandah, and others 
peeping in through the windows. Betel-nut chewing was 
going on, and the air was thick with the fumes of trade- 
tobacco. My visitors were evidently making themselves at 
home. Their cool assurance rather amused me, and I 
determined to take them in the same vein. " Boys," said 
I, in my newly acquired Yap — which I have no doubt 
sounded as queer to them as their pigeon-English to 
us — " the morning is good and so is our meeting. The 
verandah outside is also good, and this room is not an 
oven for baking meat, or a smoke-house where fish are 
cured. Dead matches and rubbish are not meant to be 
thrown on the floor, and I pray you mark my words." 

In reply to my exhortation — not a word. The smokers 
smoked on placidly, and the chewers chewed and ex- 
pectorated by turns in perfect silence — not a word, not a 
smile or change of countenance. " Friends," said I, " I 
will make my meaning clearer." Across the room I 
marched, laid hands on the bag that held the stock of a 
busy ruminator of betel-nut, walked to the door and 
tossed it far out into the yard. Returning to the man in 
the corner with an agreeable smile, " Mr Man — outside" 
said I, extending a hand to assist him to his feet, and 
pointing to the verandah. Somewhat sheepishly he 
shambled to the door to pick up his property, and 
presently the people indoors, all on the broad grin, picked 
up their belongings and went forth one by one cuddling 


their beloved bags under arm. " And now let us talk," 
said I, as I followed them out. " Does anyone here speak 
English ? " A handsome, well-built fellow called Gameu 
was pushed forward, and the wellspring of his knowledge 
once tapped, he launched out into very passable English. 
Now in the Pacific the fluent speaking of English by 
natives is regarded generally as a danger-signal, a some- 
what ominous reflection on the character of the white men 
who have taught them. But in this case, at all events, the 
rule did not hold. Gameu, though incorrigibly lazy at 
manual work, proved neither a thief nor an assassin, and 
made a model interpreter to help out the meagre English 
vocabulary of Konias. After we had sent away the rest 
in peace I set the two of them down to some solid work, 
painfully digging out the Sonsorol and Yap equivalents of 
English words. 

On his departure, Gameu, the teacher of dreadful 
jargon, assured me solemnly several times he and two or 
three others would be round early next morning with a 
canoe to take me to visit Captain Brugmann at Ramung 
over the water. The more stress he laid on his certainty 
to turn up in good time, the more certain I felt that he 
would turn up late. " Now, be off with you, make a 
move," cried I at last, " or I shall know that you don't 
mean to come at all." 

Away went Gameu, and I lay down, but not, alas, to 
sleep, haunted by legions of words of the direst cacophony 
which have been assaulting my ears for the last two 
hours. I lay down, only to rise by and by and wrestle 
anew with several Spanish vocabularies of the various 
Philippine Island dialects, in which important native key- 
words are conspicuous by their absence, and in their 
stead any number of Spanish words masquerading in 
very odd native guise — and, shade of Sancho Panza ! — 
what a motley assemblage of proverbs dragged in head 
and shoulders ! Part of these precious philological 
documents consist of dialogues in Spanish and native, 
written in a vein of owl-like solemnity, occasionally 


relieved by touches of unconscious humour. " Why 
haven't you taken part in preparation for the Church 
festival ? " sternly demands the village priest of some poor 
ignorant Filipino peasant. " Because, your reverence, I 
had my own work and lots of household affairs to look 
after," says the villager. " Don't dare to tell me such a 
thing," replies the austere pastor. "If you had been a 
good Christian you could have found time for it all. You 
are an idle rogue, hardly better than a thief." 

Under the heading "Justice " may also be seen some- 
thing startling to those unused to the summary fashion of 
Spanish provincial rule. " What did you hit the man 
for ? " says judge to prisoner in an assault case. " I 
never hit him at all, your worship," says the prisoner, 
" and I protest before all the saints in heaven that I am 
telling the truth." " Captain," says the judge to his 
subordinate, without troubling to inquire any further, 
" give the prisoner twenty lashes, and to jail with him." 
And the Spaniards feel deeply hurt at the ingratitude of 
these rebellious Filipinos, who presume to be discon- 
tented under such a just and liberal rule. However, the 
Filipinos nowadays don't even seem contented with 
American rule. I wonder why. 

A stanza from a late Manilla Diario flits across my 
memory as I struggle through these curious monuments 
of priestly industry, which may be freely translated 
El salvaje del bosque inculto, The savage of the uncultured 

Odio el progreso, la Luz, Our just rule hath not un- 

V6 indifferente la Cruz He looks indifferent on the 

Deja-lo en la bosque Es- And darkling counts the 
pafia. Light no loss ; 

The uncultured, culture 

deems no gain, 
To his wild woods leave 
him then, O Spain. 


Another gem in Spanish and Bicol. 

A tete-a-tete Dinner. 
Scene : A VILLAGE INN. Enter Padre and boy. 

Boy. — I am hungry. 

Padre. — We shall presently dine, but there must be no 
extravagance. What here ! ho ! [Enter servant. 

Servant. — Will it please you to eat, sirs ? Will you 
have meat or fish ? 

Padre. — Whichever you have handy. {Fish is brought 

{At dinner.) The Padre speaks a la Mr Barlow. " I 
knew a boy called Juan. He thought he could swim ; 
he went to bathe in the big river, but the current carried 
him away, and the fishes ate his body. Boy starts up, 
flings his portion out of the window, then with intense 
pathos, " Henceforth I taste no fish." 

[Exit boy tragically, Padre left feeding alone. ,] 

And then, thank goodness, my dinner comes. Unlike 
the trusting pupil, I do not allow his master's shocking 
tale to come between me and my dish of baked leather- 
jacket fish, flanked with a regiment of eggs, which Konias 
has ranged on the table like shot in a pile, and nearly as 
hard too, for he has industriously boiled them for the 
last three quarters of an hour in his anxiety to please. 

After dinner, more proverbs, more tedious dialogue, 
more ineffectual search for plain, honest, sensible keywords 
in these odd little pamphlets, for which the lay author 
in Spain receives a medal or decoration. In practical 
England, dreadful to reflect on, the poor fellow might 
be taken seriously by some fierce critic, who would fall 
upon him tooth and nail, and in return for his precious 
pearls of knowledge rend him piecemeal. 



NEXT morning no Gameu, no canoe, as I expected. 
The rogue turned up at last about one o'clock, in 
the full blaze of one of the hottest suns I ever faced, with 
the excuse that there was a great feast overnight at the 
club house, and that being much sought after for his 
elegance and skill in dancing he had been kept up late. 
Coconut toddy, he said, had flowed freely, also a Manilla 
man had sold them many bottles of red wine, of which 
not one was left. So invoking anything but a blessing 
on native shiftlessness and unpunctuality I gave the word 
to start, and under the propulsion of five stout bamboo 
poles the canoe was soon urged up to the wharf of Maneu, 
with a banana patch in the background shading off into 
dense forest, whilst here and there the little clearing is 
dotted with clumps of the Mor, a small species of bamboo, 
and the Utel, a tall graceful species of reed-grass bearing 
feathery tufts of blossom like the flowers of the sugar 
cane. Here we take on board a sack or two of coconuts, 
fully ripe for copra making. For as Gameu says very 
truly, " It is not good to call on a white man empty- 

We passed a double fish-weir, the inner one of stone, 
the other one of cane. Such structures, as before men- 
tioned, are very common around the shores of Yap. 
Many a boat has come to grief over these on dark nights, 
when the man at the helm has been indulging in forty 
winks or forty drinks, as the case may be. Many of the 
weirs are in a very dilapidated condition, and long past 


use, but still they lie round blocking up the water-ways — 
a standing menace to traffic. Whilst we were painfully 
feeling our way along through the labyrinth, I remembered 
a tale Lewis told me down at Lai of an accident he had 
over one of these structures. He was in charge of a boat 
heavily laden with copra and a trifle late for his rendez- 
vous, and, weary of perpetual tacking and tacking, had 
vowed to charge the very next cane weir that came in his 
path, cracking on all canvas and flying straight before the 
wind to Rul with half a gale behind him. Somewhere off 
Iloech a stoutly-built cane weir showed up clearly in the 
moonlight right ahead. A fine breeze was blowing, and 
the boat was slipping through the water as fast as two 
broad China-rigged sails could take her. " Straight 
ahead ! Let her go for all she's worth," yelled the excit- 
able skipper. " I'll learn the niggers here to be filling up 
all the bay with their blamed fish-traps." And the boys 
on board, who were not Iloech men, grinned with delight 
at the coming smash. They hadn't long to wait. The 
boat held on at full speed, and with a mighty impetus 
crashed clean through the light cane-work of the hated 
enclosure, but, alas, the stout coconut strengthening-piece 
or cross-bar on the top proved of sterner stuff. A smash- 
ing sound, a snapping of guy ropes, a rustle of falling 
canvas, and bang came a stunning crack over the head of 
the captain, causing dozens of bright fitful stars to dance 
before his vision. The rude shock had snapped off the 
mast like a carrot, and brought yard, sail and all thunder- 
ing down in one disastrous topplement. The poor old 
skipper fairly surpassed himself on this occasion, and there 
ensued one of the most brilliant displays of verbal pyro- 
technics ever shown on salt water. The native crew 
grinned from ear to ear, as black fellows generally do 
when there is damage done or somebody badly hurt, and 
chortled away merrily at the excellent joke, until the 
injured man felt sufficiently recovered to stumble forward 
and take a hand in the game with a belaying pin. 


In future the valiant Cambrian will doubtless leave 
his neighbour's landmark severely alone, and will think 
twice before he will test the resisting power of mast 
and tackle against stout logs on the top of light cane 

Proceeding leisurely onward we came to the landing 
place of Talangeth, at the back of which there is a 
piscina or fish-pond (Maot, cf. Samoan Maota — a 
building) where young fish are put in to await develop- 
ment — a sensible piece of native foresight. Here we 
picked up a few more nuts, and we started off once 
more. A little further on lay Tabok, where we laid 
in a supply of green drinking nuts. Yet another stone 
weir passed and we reached Malaf, which lies on the end 
of Map Island over against Captain B.'s place across the 
straits at Tan-ne-Erouach — the land of Departed Heroes. 
Here was a great heap of stones surmounted by tall poles, 
the relics of an ancient Big House. In the middle of 
the channel, between the two islands, stretches a zigzag 
series of stone weirs, 1 and very solidly constructed, built 
so that the tops emerge two or three feet at low tides ; 
at high tides the water covers them about three feet 
deep. Under the lee of these we cautiously waded 
over, getting pretty well drenched on our way from 
slipping into holes, but under a tropical sun nobody 
minds these little mishaps. The straits here would be 
some 300 yards across, and the fish-pens are said 
to be of great antiquity. Reaching the wharf we as- 
cended a steep flight of steps cut out of the hillside, 
on top of which stands the little trading station. The 
slope was planted with young coconut trees, and the 
plateau above dotted with wild pandanus trees {Choi), 
some of them in flower to judge from the sweet scent 
floating down on the light breezes like the smell of a 
field of beans in blossom. 

Two or three native huts and a boatshed adjoined 

1 Vide illustration in The Geographical Journal, February number, 1899. 


the wharf, the only living being around being a melan- 
choly old greybeard, superintending with languid in- 
terest the boiling of some sweet potatoes in an iron 
pot over a fire of driftwood. We found B. at home, 
one of the sober, thrifty and industrious traders of the 
new school, and a hospitable welcome he gave us, 
readily undertaking to point out all places of note. 
That afternoon and evening it was interesting to hear 
his pithy descriptions of native customs and modes of 
life, for ascertaining which his knowledge of the language 
qualified him so well. I ■ obtained from him some 
account of the inner life of the Yap people, and from 
an old chief, Toluk of Omin, the Yap version of the flood. 
" Long, long ago, the island of Ramung, now separated 
by the channel we see before us, was one with the 
mainland. The land was filled with inhabitants, plenti- 
ful as ants. Alok, near Akau on the west side, and 
Tomil district overlooking the eastern harbour on the 
other side, were the principal settlements. Now the 
great God Yalafath abode in the sky looking peacefully 
down on the labours and pleasures of his people. One 
of his wives bore him two children, a son and a daughter. 
(The name of the wife is given variously as Mui-Bab 
or Mui-Wap.) The heavenly children used to come 
down to see the village festivals holden at Alok, and 
other fairy folk from the skies would come down too 
to view the scene of dancing and revelry. For Yap 
men — complacently murmurs the old man — were and 
are the best fighters and dancers in the Sea of Islands, 
and the people of Alok were the best in Yap. More- 
over, the young men were of gallant and stalwart 
bearing, graceful of form and goodly to look upon 
when garlanded green, dressed out in yellow leaf-girdles, 
wearing shell earrings, necklaces strung with red stones, 
or with the scarlet seeds of the pandan tree, their smooth 
skins shining with turmeric and scented oil. Now it 
came to pass that one of these fairies took a fancy to 


a handsome young man called Maralok, and after the 
briefest of courtships, agreed to cast in her lot with 
his for a while, as long as the two parties were agreeable. 
Accordingly the fond pair eloped. The other visiting 
bevy of fays went back to the skies and said all manner 
of unkind things. When Loth, the fairy mother, heard 
that her daughter had condescended to the love of a 
mortal man, she was very wroth, and appeared to the 
newly-wedded wife in a vision. The offended mamma 
said she would descend to Bulual in Ramung in seven 
days, and bade her erring daughter meet her there and 
give some account of her doings and pay penance. 
After this she would receive miraculous powers and 
her mother's forgiveness. But the old fairy mother 
dealt subtly, for well she knew what she would do. 

The son of earth and daughter of the skies were going 
along on the appointed day, when behold ! the sea rose 
suddenly and swamped the lowlands. In fear, mortal 
husband and fairy wife turned back to flee to the hills of 
Tomil. Ere they could reach this refuge the angry waters 
swept away Maralok to death. The woman reached Tomil 
in safety, and satisfied with their prey, the waves were 
stayed. In the form of an old woman, Loth the Fairy 
Mother appeared to her daughter, and the two dwelt 
awhile together in a cavern underground, shunning the 
sights and sounds of mortal man. They made them- 
selves wings to escape to the shining regions above, but 
even as they sat in the sunlight pluming themselves for 
flight, people from Damachui saw them and snared them 
in a great net (Chau), like butterflies. They were assigned 
to Igereng, one of the Pilung or aristocracy of Tomil, who 
determined to marry the two, mother and daughter. A 
feast was held, and the people brought plenty of coco- 
nuts and all manner of food, which the land produced 
abundantly. The two fairies fell to and polished off the 
heap of food in quick time, devouring coconut after coco- 
nut, husk, shell, and all, continually calling for more and 


more. All stood aghast at the marvellous sight. At 
length Igereng, fearing a famine in the land from such 
voracious appetites, was fain to cry hold ! enough ! After 
a while, the fairies, finding the pangs of hunger insup- 
portable, turned themselves into rats, and went up 
stealthily night after night to the hill-terraces, and helped 
themselves liberally to sweet potatoes, sugar-cane and 
yams, causing sad devastation in each plantation. One 
night a man on watch surprised the trespassers, hurled a 
heavy stone with deadly aim, and there lay quivering the 
body of an enormous rat — far, far bigger than any dog 
or cat — says the veracious narrator. The gluttony of 
Loth the Fairy Mother had brought her thither once too 
often. The daughter returned in anger and told her 
husband that in seven days the vengeance of Loth would 
bring a high flood-tide to overwhelm the land. Meanwhile 
she counselled him to build a house on top of the highest 
hill to which they could withdraw, and bring with him 
some magic herbs with which certain rites or incantations 
were to be performed, which might avail against the 
inundation. He obeyed, and the two fell to practising 
spells and exorcisms. The wife looking out to sea at 
dawn of the fatal day exclaimed, " Behold the wrath of 
Loth." A typhoon was coming, sweeping down out of 
the north, bringing with it a terrible tidal-wave. It burst 
over the land. Nearly all Yap was covered under the 
raging flood, and all the people perished save one, a slave 
man in Unean, and the prudent couple. When the waters 
fell the Unean man looking southward saw the lowlands 
of Nimiguil emerging from the waste of waters. He went 
down upon the newly-risen flats, stuck a bamboo-pole fast 
into a crevice of the reef in token of possession, and went 
his way to see if any others were alive. Presently he met 
Igereng and his wife, and though a slave himself, claimed 
from them the lands of Nimiguil, showing the bamboo 
landmark in token of his right. And this is the reason 
why Nimiguil folk hold their lands by tenure of labour 


and military service to the chiefs of Tomil. As the 
narrator puts it crisply, " Tomil chief want work he speak. 
Nimiguil man he go quick. Tomil man make feast. 
Nimiguil man he fetch food." 

After this two children were born to Igereng. The 
mother one day fell ill and desired to be buried — whether 
alive or dead, the narrative did not say. She strictly 
charged the children to dig her up again after three days, 
promising great and wonderful advantages if they were 
obedient. But the boy and girl behaved just like all other 
thoughtless children left to themselves with nobody to look 
after them. They ran wild all over the country-side, 
getting into all manner of mischief, tweaking the tails of 
the Iguanas, and teasing the animals and birds. At last 
when they did remember to dig up the old lady she was 
stiff and dead, and the house of Igereng had lost its 
promised blessings. The story doesn't say what Papa 
Igereng did to the truants or why he didn't dig her up 
himself instead. Probably, as savage as well as some 
civilised papas do, he took the matter coolly, and con- 
soled himself in due time with a less exacting mortal wife, 
and here Igereng passes out of the story. 

Now the great spirit Yalafath, who sits musing in the 
sky, and takes a fatherly interest in the land of Yap, 
spake one day to his wife Mui-Bab, and said, " I would 
know if the flood has destroyed the land as they tell me, 
and if any of the people has escaped death. Go down and 
see. Return and tell me." And the goddess shot from the 
skies in the form of an albatross or, as some say, a frigate- 
bird, lighting on Tomil. And she saw how few were left 
to till the land now barren of food-bearing plants. Swiftly 
returning, she told Yalafath, the Giver of Good, of the 
hapless state of the people. And he sent down to nourish 
them the areca palm (Bti), the betel pepper (Gabui or 
Kavui), the banana {Pau), the plantains (Irinim and 
Tengera), the yams (Do/, Dok, Dal), and the water-taro 


Therefore to this day, when they see the frigate-bird in 
the land of Tomil, they say, " Lo, the sacred messenger 
of the mercy of Yalafath, Lord of the skies." 

Now the compassionate goddess, seeing the land 
again fruitful and fit for habitation, called eight Kan or 
Genii into existence — one female and seven male. The 
female {Ngut) went to Maki in the north, one of the 
males ( Yangalap) to Gochepa on the north-east, another 
(Toma) to Omin, another to Gilifith, another (Ath) to 
Goror in Nimiguil, the extreme south point of the island. 
The fifth went to Akau and the sixth to Obogol. The 
seventh abode with Mui-Bab in Tomil, who created wives 
for them by the exercise of her magic will. And these 
are the generations of the children of Yap. 

There appear several familiar threads woven into the 
fabric of this crude, savage legend. The rather childish 
version of the origin of the flood is nevertheless a new 
and naive contribution to the huge masses of tradition on 
this point, rescued from oblivion in different parts of the 

1. The coming down of the fairy beings to earth is the 
reflex version of the account in Genesis (c. vi. v. 2). 

2. The period of seven days is a common Semitic cycle. 

3. The device of the fairies changing themselves into 
rats reads like a Japanese Bake-mono tale, to say nothing 
of the use of the word Machamach to signify magic, which 
answers exactly to Japanese Maji or Machi, enchantment, 
witchcraft, and more strangely still to the Araucanian 
Machi, a medicine man or diviner. 

4. Not less striking is the part taken by the celestial 
messenger, the albatross. Similar, but not quite the same, 
is the duty assigned to the humming-bird in the Mexican 
legend, and to the raven and the dove in the ancient 
Chaldean and Hebrew traditions. 

5. The burying and digging up of the mother to obtain 
certain prospective blessings by her children calls to mind 
a legend of Rarotonga concerning the origin of Pigs told 


by the Rev. Wyatt-Gill, and the Ponapean story of the 
burying of Kaneki the Leper, from whose poor corpse 
grew up the Coconut Palm. 

Lirou of Tomil subsequently gave me a Southern Yap 
version, slightly different, but in most particulars harmon- 
ising very well. He gives the name of the fairy who 
came down to see the dances at Alok as Legerem, and 
that of her husband as Mar-alau. The name of the Fairy 
Mother is variously given as Mithigom or Michigam. His 
account of the flight and pursuit is interesting in its 
minuteness of detail. " The goddess, chasing them on 
the wings of the storm, tried to seize them in her talons, 
but only tore away the island of Ramung. At the second 
attempt she grasped the tract of land occupied by Map 
Island. This too she rent away. The third time she 
succeeded, but in her eagerness nearly tore away another 
island, the western and eastern portions of the main island 
being only left hanging together by the narrow isthmus 
or neck of land at Girigir. Mar-alau is drowned in the 
welter of winds and waters ; Fairy Mother and daughter 
hide in a cave ; Legerem is captured by Igereng of Tomil 
(whom Lirou, with the varying southern tribal phonesis, 
styles Eriguk or Egeruk) ; but the Fairy Mother is too 
wily for her pursuers and escapes, promising, however, to 
visit her daughter in seven days and bring blessings and 
not curses upon her new marriage. True to her word she 
appears, levels and builds the stone wharf called Ochongol 
running from Dagut to Tomil, and plants all the roads 
around with avenues of the Kel or native almond. The 
voracity of Michigam, her raids on the plantations in the 
form of a rat, her ignominious death in a trap, and the 
flood that follows in seven days, agree closely with the 
northern version given by Toluk. The name of the sur- 
vivor from Unean, who had escaped by climbing a tall 
palm, is given as Angafau. This ancient worthy's name 
appears oddly enough in early Samoan legend as Ongafau, 
coupled with another mysterious personage Tafitofau, with- 


out whose names no orthodox fairy tale can start — a sort 
of traditional introduction. 

Legerem creates by magic art five boys and a girl. 
To Yangalab, who settled Gochepa, she assigns the 
conquest of the eastern islands up to Ruk, and Kuthiu 
(Kusaie), and Fanupei (Ponape). Therefore, ever since, 
the islanders from the eastward have come down at stated 
intervals from Mokomok (Uluthi), and Anangai (Uleai), 
and other places even further, to pay tribute to the Pilung 
or chiefs of Gochepa. (The name Yangalab is probably 
eponymous. It means Trade-wind or Great-gale.) 
Yangalab may be taken to represent the restless, 
piratical Malay element in Western and Central Caroline 
history, his stay-at-home brethren as types of the peaceful, 
agricultural instinct of the Dravidian forefathers left 
behind them in Southern India. 

Now, of course it was necessary somehow for Legerem 
to provide wives for these early patriarchs, and Lirou 
tells an extraordinary tale of the Machamach or magic 
arts of Legerem, reminding one very much of the Mayan 
story in the Popol Vuh of the gradual evolution of the 
first man and woman. 

Seven days wrought Legerem over a tangle of coconut 
husk, and the result was (1) the Ataligak or black shore- 
lizard (Scincus). Yet another seven days' incantation, 
and (2) the Athalau or blue-tailed lizard. Seven days' 
more, and, lo ! (3) the Galuf or Iguana, a large yellow and 
green tree-lizard. The next wonder-working period pro- 
duced a (4) Thagith (in Pelew Galith, in Irish Thivisk), 
the spectral or phantom frame of a woman, lacking sub- 
stance. One last stage of evolution, and there stood (5) 
Le-pulei, a perfect woman nobly planned. 

By Legerem's unfailing magic Le-pulei bears the 
following daughters — Tilik, Le-ngeru, Matenai, Tininga- 
mat, Miting, and Rutineg. From these and certain 
fairy visitors from the sky, whom Legerem's sons took to 
wife, are the people of Yap descended. 


Another tale of Legerem was told me by Lirou. 

The same powerful fairy, to feed her fast-increasing 
people, went down to the reef, caught a Goloth or sea-eel, 
and cut it in two, carefully planting the pieces. From 
one half there grew a coconut palm, from the other half a 
banana tree. By similar means the Mai and the Lak, two 
species of Taro, were produced in the land of Yap. Not 
contented with this, Legerem sent an old man called 
Galuai, who ascended in a column of smoke to the sky, 
and there besought the Great Spirit Yalafath to give the 
Yap people a further supply of food. To him were given 
yams packed in an enormous hollow bamboo-cane, upon 
which astride he mounted, with fowls harnessed alongside 
to bring him in his chariot safe to earth. This is a crude 
barbarian counterpart indeed to the classical tales of Lady 
Venus, with her trains of doves and teams of sparrows. 
And this is how those three useful things, the yam, the 
bamboo, and the domestic fowl came into the land of Yap. 

According to B., after the priestly caste " Ulu- Uleg " 
or " Machamach" the two principal classes on the island 
are Pilung or chieftains, and Pimlingai or slaves. The 
latter for the most part dwell in bush villages, such as 
Damachui and Gatlangal. They are darker in colour than 
the Pilung, their hair is more curly, and in speaking they 
have a slightly different pronunciation. It looks as if they 
belonged to an earlier race, subsequently enslaved by an 
invasion of fresh settlers. One tradition makes them 
descended from the crews of certain visiting canoes from 
one of the neighbouring groups. After Yap had been 
ravaged with a great and fatal epidemic, the local people 
determined to seize upon the persons of their visitors in 
order to restock their land. So they set upon them and 
killed most of the men, keeping the remainder and the 
women and children as slaves, and settling them in 
various inland villages, for fear they should steal canoes and 
make their escape. These serfs belong to certain district 
chiefs, and in some cases to chief women. They have to 


do all the menial work for their masters. They live on 
poor food, such as the Kai and the Luat, the greater and 
lesser squid, which the chiefs do not care to eat. The 
great distinction between the Pilung and Pimlingai is that 
the former wear a Roai or ornamental comb of white 
mangrove wood in their hair, the latter none. The slave 
class are very shy and diffident before their native masters, 
but in the presence of white men are apt to give them- 
selves airs. " It's because they feel sure of being treated 
well," says B. " It's just the way niggers have got." 
Between all the Pilungs there is political equality, there 
being little or no individual supremacy. The voice of the 
majority settles the question. The old men act as um- 
pires and spokesmen, their position answering to that of 
the Gerousia of ancient Hellas. With them lies the option 
of declaring war or peace. These old men form a perpetual 
court of session, and from their decision or sentence there 
is no appeal. Murder is generally punished by a heavy fine, 
by which death by private vengeance is averted. Breaches 
of the far-spreading Machamach or Tabu were punished by 
the death of the offender by poisoning or assassination. 
" In Yap," says B., " bad men never die, but disappear 

In Yap are two great wizards, the head of all the 
magicians (" Ulu-uleg" or "Machamach ") in the island, both 
well on in years, who support their dignity under very 
strict conditions indeed. With them truly it is a case of 
" Sagesse," if not " noblesse oblige." They are only allowed 
to eat fruits from plants or trees specially grown for 
them. They may not smoke tobacco, but, subject to the 
condition above mentioned, may enjoy a quid of betel- 
nut, the chewed-up remains being reverently collected 
after them, borne away, and burnt in a special manner, for 
fear of any ill-disposed person getting possession of the 
rubbish and doing mischief by uttering a curse over it, 
a superstition like that of the Nahak in the Melanesian 
area. When one of them goes abroad the other stops at 


home, for were the two to meet one another on the road, 
the natives hold that some direful calamity would surely 
follow. There are plenty of lesser degree Machamach 
men, who go about always with divers errands in hand, 
such as recovering missing property, divination, and the 
like, but all grave and important questions come up before 
the Mighty Two. To them belongs the power of the 
Tabu, which applies to places and objects as well as 
persons. If a village is tabued, no trader or anyone else 
can take or give anything away from there. It is a very 
strict rule indeed, and has been known to extend up to 
six months. It is a very neat savage rendering of the 
papal interdicts and excommunications of the Middle 
Ages, to say nothing of the boycott of the Emerald Isle 
and the -picketing of labour unions. When a canoe is 
going on a long sea voyage, such as to Ngoli, Uluthi, or 
the Pelews, they put on a tabu to propitiate the Yap 
Neptune and the Shark-God. The same before a fishing 
excursion, during time of drought, famine, or sickness, or 
at the death of a chief or famous man. In short, any 
great public event is thus celebrated, and, in fact, there is 
always a tabu in full swing somewhere or other, to the 
great disgust of the traders, who only see in those enforced 
holidays an excuse for idling, drunkenness and debauchery, 
and I verily believe that they are little better. It is then 
that the copra-sheds lie empty, and the trader goes about 
with a surly frown, and the native with a smile you could 
measure with a foot-rule. 

My informant then went on to describe a singular 
custom similar to that in the worship of Mylitta at 
Babylon, described by Herodotus. In each of the great 
club houses, previously mentioned for their remarkable 
architecture, are kept three or four unmarried girls or 
Mespil, whose business it is to minister to the pleasures 
of the men of the particular clan or brotherhood to which 
the building belongs. As with the Kroomen on the Gold 
Coast, each man, married or unmarried, takes his turn by 


rotation in the rites through which each girl must pass 
before she is deemed ripe for marriage. The natives say 
it is an ordeal or preliminary trial to fit them for the 
cares and burden of maternity. She is rarely a girl of the 
same village, and, of course, must be sprung from a 
different sept. Whenever she wishes to become a Langin 
or respectable married woman, she may, and is thought 
none the less of for her frailties as a Mespil. The sign of 
a Langin is a string or cord worn round the neck, hanging 
down fore and aft, dyed black and knotted. • This is 
called Mara-fau (a Mara or necklace of Fau, the archaic 
Yap name for the Kal or Lemon Hibiscus). But I 
believe this self-immolation before marriage is confined to 
the daughters of the inferior chiefs and commons. The 
supply of Mespil is generally kept up by the purchase 
of slave girls from the neighbouring districts, on which 
occasion the Fe or stone money-wheels are used. The 
reason that the stone wheels are piled at the foot of 
these structures is that the Mespil may in looking upon 
them remember that they themselves were bought with 
great price, and must prove themselves worthy of the 
honour conferred on them. Therefore these houses are 
called Fe-Bai or Money-Houses. Very often a band 
of Ufuf or village mohawks elect to carry off for a 
freak a Mespil from some other village to grace their 
own. Though an adventure much relished by the local 
braves, it is considered a most blamable, unclubbable 
act by their elders, and probably is the most fruitful 
source of discord on the island. The institution of 
the Mespil is certainly a surprising coincidence with 
the Yoshiwara of Japan. 

It is hardly necessary to state that the good Catholic 
priests most sternly set their faces against the Mespil 
system, but all in vain. " It is the custom of the land," 
says the obstinate heathen, and goes his own way — to 
wake up only too surely to the fact that the young men 
turn out worthless idle loafers and die early, and many of 


the young women after marriage will not bear children. 
Padres and traders alike say, and they are probably right, 
that this, together with other co-operating influences, has 
been the cause of the steady decadence and dwindling 
of so many of the Ocean races. When a Mespil 
is stolen the aggrieved village declares war, which has 
to be staved off by the offending parties sending stone 
and shell money in propitiation and by way of a fine. 
Sometimes the woman is taken back to her home — 
oftener, without doubt, she elects to stay in her new 

" In Yap," continues B., " men and women cannot 
eat out of the same pot. The women and children 
eat together." Now the women of Yap have rather 
a hard time of it. They have to keep the yam and 
taro patches and coconut plantations in order, and do 
all the housework into the bargain ; whilst the men's 
work consists in building houses and canoes, fishing 
and trading. " Conjugal fidelity," says B., " is not re- 
garded as a virtue " — a rather astonishing statement 
which at first sight appears to conflict with the class- 
divisions of Langin and Mespil. Needless to say, with 
excesses in youth and early toil of field-work, the women- 
kind age very quickly. To the Western mind the custom 
of young girls about the age of sixteen passing through 
such an ordeal as described, is well-nigh incredible. 
But the thing is certainly so, and no resident or 
missionary will venture to contradict its existence. It 
is one of those startling facts flashing in our face out 
of the weird mysterious East, where all things to us 
seem turned topsy-turvy, and the fancy reels with the 
oppression of a monstrous nightmare. A similar deep and 
chilling sense of the gulf which separates Eastern from 
Western thought characterises the solemn imagery in 
which De Quincy limns his strange and fitful fancies — 
crossed by the still-haunting shadow of China, Rome, 
or Egypt. 


Have none of my readers felt some vague thrill of 
horror lurking behind the jewelled and glorious luxury 
of the East — some jarring chord amongst her golden 
melodies — a sense of something incomplete where all 
seems solid and magnificent, such a union of beauty 
and cruelty as seen in the fabled shrub of Java, deep 
down in whose gorgeous and fragrant blossoms a little 
coral snake lurks coiled whose touch is death. It is 
at such times as these that the Western mind turns 
thankfully back to those strong, simple, earnest men 
— the Germans of Tacitus and the Scandinavians of 
the Eddas. These men were our forefathers and theirs 
was the better part. It is very well. They are our 
fixed stars and shine mildly in heaven. But the others 
are ominous lights, these blazing meteors, these comets 
that come roaring and raging across our way out of 
the chilly gulfs of Time and the black darkness of the 
ages. We know our own — these we know not. We 
view the Eastern mind as yet in a glass darkly. Our 
methods, our planes of thought lie far apart, our notions 
of justice, and honour, and all that makes a man, differ 
from the very root. Who, after Kipling and Sir Edwin 
Arnold, will throw himself into the gulf and bridge it 
over ? 



THAT evening we visited the shed where B. is setting 
up the framework of a trading boat of tamanu 
timber (Yap Bioutdi). The wood has a handsome 
reddish longitudinal grain, is very durable, and is said 
to harden in salt water. 

We examined some clumps of a peculiar shrub 
called Avetch. The foliage is like that of the jamboo 
or Malay apple-tree, each spray terminating in a white 
petal-like leaf. The seeds are minute like those of 
the tobacco plant. The flowers are of small size, star- 
shaped and of a bright golden-yellow hue. From the 
top of the hill we viewed one of the magnificent sunset 
effects that are so common here that nobody specially 
notes them. But in England, I believe, cloud-pictures of 
green, scarlet and amber are not so common. B. told me 
of a magnificent club house at Umin on Map Island, also 
of one at a place called Atelu, which artists, if any should 
ever come here, would do well to bear in mind. 

Next morning B. and I went out early to survey the 
Tan-ne-Erouatch, the land of the Dead Heroes, the 
district facing down on the straits of Malaf where 
are the burial places of the mighty men of old. 

Tan is the Malay Tana soil, or else is cognate with 
the Polynesian root Tanu, to bury ; with Erouatch cf. 
the Marshall Island dialect-words for chief or king — 
Iroith, Uroit, Iroich, and the Marianne Uritoi. The whole 
face of the land is covered with tufts and clumps of coarse 
grasses, wild sorrel, and the South Sea arrowroot (Tacca), 
diversified by patches of a peculiar pitcher-plant, At. 


The parcel of land presents the appearance like an 
old fashioned English orchard, save that instead of apple 
and pear trees are found growing whole battalions of 
that quaint and antediluvian looking tree — the wild 
pandanus. Here and there a graceful climbing fern 
(Lygodium), somewhat resembling the Venus' Hair or 
Adiantum, curls its delicate green tresses over old 
and unsightly tree-stumps. 

For a long while our search after ancient graves was 
unavailing, so well had the wild woods kept their secret, 
and we wandered uphill, through copse, and down dell, 
until we reached the dense belt of hibiscus running down 
to the beach, and knew that we had overshot our mark. 
We found a small rivulet which, in its course to the sea, 
forms two or three shallow pools ; here we gathered some 
freshwater shells, exactly like the ones found in the basin 
of the waterfall at Puia on the Kusaie coast. Retracing 
our steps, suddenly we came upon a gentle slope covered 
with little flat platforms built of small blocks of basalt, in 
many cases thickly overgrown by a dense tangle of climb- 
ing fern. These graves are two or three feet in height, in 
length six feet by four. They belong to the common 
folk. Those of the chiefs and wealthy men are much 
higher, and are faced with upright slabs of stone — one in 
each corner and one in the middle of each side being de 
rigueur. On our way back we fell in with a similar grave 
near the slave village of Fal. In the afternoon we went 
out again with a small boy and a whale-spade in search 
of ferns and orchis plants. 

Our little guide told us that it was the Yap custom to 
throw quantities of chewed pandanus fruit upon the top 
of these graves, apparently as a propitiation to the spirits 
of the dead. In his quaint and barbarous dialect he tells 
us of a former island existing to the north of Ramung 
called Sepin, whose people were savage warriors and came 
across in canoes to fight with the men of Yap. B. says 
he means a submerged stack of coral, called Hunter's 


reef, which lies up some thirty miles northwards, about 
fifteen fathoms deep. But the name to me appears to 
recall the island of Saipan in the Marianne or Ladrone 
Group. It would only be one more addition to the 
number of native geographical names repeating them- 
selves with very slight variations over the Micronesian 
and Melanesian areas. Possibly Favorlana, (Formosa 
South coast) Tsipan, " the Western quarter" is cognate. 

In former times the barren grounds must have been 
inhabited pretty thickly. Traces of ancient cultivation 
and the foundations of old houses are numerous on 
the promontory facing Map. Probably the population 
perished off in some epidemic, or in some great battle on 
which history is silent. Now the place is waste and 
desolate, and the natives fear to come around at night. 
Only in daytime will they come hither, and then only in 
company by twos and threes. 

That afternoon we stumbled upon another grave, said 
to be that of Rek, the chief of Umin, the capital of Map 
across the water. It is surrounded by a narrow trench, 
and consists of four tiers. Three are of stone and the fourth 
is of earth. The lowest tier is twenty-five feet in length, 
breadth twenty-two feet ; second tier twenty feet in length, 
breadth twelve feet ; upper tier sixteen feet in length, 
breadth eight feet. Each of these three tiers is about a 
foot and a half in height, and the lowest, that of earth, is 
one foot high. The topmost tier is paved with a layer of 
fiattish blocks of stone. Here are no upright stone slabs 
as seen in the tomb of Fal, which, though a smaller struc- 
ture, has eight of these curious erect stones bordering each 

On exploring further we found the hillside beyond Fal 
cut up into a series of terraces and ditches three or four 
feet deep, very much overgrown with long grass, into 
which one would occasionally disappear with startling 
abruptness and a considerable shock. These are the 
relics of gardens of the olden time, where they used to 


grow beds of yams and turmeric or wild ginger. Of the 
roots of the latter they used to make the cones of Rang, 
Reng, or Taik, a widely-used cosmetic from one end of 
the Carolines to the other. (Cf. Polynesian Renga, Lenga, 
the turmeric ; Javanese Rong, gamboge ; Hindustani 
Rang, paint, cosmetic ; and with Taik compare Mar- 
quesan Taiki, red, orange-coloured.) 

We made our way down the hillside through the long 
lush grasses, which took us up to our waists, until we 
found ourselves deep down in a green valley, a rich strip 
of rare old bottom-lands which would have delighted a 
Whitcombe Riley, with a wee silvery brook singing down 
with a mellow tinkle seawards amongst the shadowed 
silence of deep groves. We struggle along through a 
marshy hollow, and one's thoughts go back to the vales 
of Thessaly and Lerna fen and the Centaurs or horse- 
breeders thereof, and thence to Dirk Hammerhand and 
the rich pastures of Walcheren, whence Hereward the 
Wake by subtlety stole his mare Swallow. But we meet 
neither Centaurs nor Lapithse, and no gainsaying Dirk to 
challenge rash intruders to a game of buffets. Not a 
sound save the murmur of the troutless brook, and the 
gentle sough of the south wind sighing through the ever- 
glades. "It was all of it fair as life ; it was all of it 
quiet as death " ; but what a grassy meadow for cattle is 
lost here, and what a grand retreat for a hermit. 

The small boy, bending under a big bag full of plants 
and seeds, follows gallantly on our track as we go trip- 
ping and stumbling along through the silent hollow vale, 
carpeted with matted roots, weeds and creepers. Little 
by little we win our way out of the valley by a winding 
trail that strikes upward and along the mountain slopes 
above. The bright green tints of the grass give way 
gradually to a light yellowish-brown, where the scorching 
rays have set their mark all the sultry noontide past. 
The purple shadows come stealing down from the hollows 
in the hills, a wonder of amber-flecked cloud-canopy 


glorifies all the face of the west, and as the sun dips in a 
sapphire sea, cool, damp, and fragrant closes in the dusk 
of eventide. 

On the slopes above us are crackling little fires lit by 
the natives to clear the mountain wilderness for the yam- 
planting, even as their far-off kindred of the South burn 
off the wild fern which year by year clothes the long hill- 
sides of New Zealand. 

After a longish walk over the hills we returned to B.'s 
station, and left that night to return to Pilau, where we 
arrived about midnight, agreeing to pay B. a second visit. 
We find some natives sitting on the verandah with eggs, 
yams, and fish for barter, and everything safe as I left it. 
Visitors and crew were soon paid off, and went ashore well 
pleased, Gameu agreeing to act as guide for a long walk 
on the mainland, and the rest promising to bring in any- 
thing remarkable in the way of sea-shells, lizards, spiders, 
etc., for the alcohol bottle. One old man and his son 
undertook to bring in some fine specimens of iguanas 
( Varanus), of which there are plenty in this curious part 
of the Carolines. This, together with the appearance of 
fire-flies, the rarity of land birds, and the absence of the 
horned frog found in the neighbouring area of the 
Pelews, may afford food for speculation to the naturalist. 
To the lay mind it seems odd. But then pretty well 
everything in the Carolines is rather odd, and there is 
plenty to find out still for any energetic scientist who 
comes along prepared to rough it. 

For a wonder Gameu turned up next day in good time 
and took me over to Gilifith, from which we started about 
midday. The heat was tremendous, and the stone paved 
roads with the rain that had fallen overnight, slippery to a 
degree. Along the road the scenery reminded me of an 
English country lane. Ferns and mosses were growing 
everywhere, and the path was frequently intersected by the 
gnarled roots of the native chestnut. After a long climb 
we found ourselves on the plateau, from which we had a 


fine view. The pitcher - plant with its quaint lidded 
flower-cups grows in abundance on the rich red soil, also 
another pretty plant, with spotted leaves and violet and 
mauve flowers. Next we passed through banked-up beds 
of sweet-potato separated by a series of deep ditches 
running between them, which gave the place quite the 
appearance of a market garden. There were also some 
yam patches, the creepers carefully trained over sticks, 
like peas or scarlet - runners. Water-melons also were 
seen growing in great abundance, probably introduced 
from the Pelews, where the regular Malay name is in 
vogue (Pelew Samongka, cf. Javanese Samanka). There 
were also two small patches of pine-apples (Ngongor). 
We came upon a bush-town called Matreu, and found a 
party of old men scraping up the Reng or turmeric root 
to make the favourite native cosmetic. From here we 
followed a causeway on our right running along the side 
of a pretty little brook flashing at intervals amongst the 
weeds and grasses that border its course. On our left a 
stretch of marsh filled with the broad arrow-headed leaves 
and yellow blossoms of Water-Taro. We arrived at a 
village, apparently of the same name as my temporary 
island abode, with its imposing club house and platform 
studded with upright basalt slabs, overshadowed by a 
marvel of crotons, papyrus, and areca palms. We saw a 
fine specimen of the tree called Kangit in Ponape, here 
called Raual, with its broad leaves and spherical fruit, 
containing numerous seeds like those of a mango 
(Pangium edule). 

We sat down under the welcome shade of a gigantic 
native chestnut, and once more Gameu climbed to bring 
down Tob or green drinking coconuts (Hindustani Dab, 
Sonsorol Sob, Ponape 'Up). Ere long a number of people 
came around us to feast their eyes a while upon the rare 
spectacle of a visitor from over sea. They were not in 
the least importunate, curiosity brought them ; and that 
once satisfied they soon melted away. 


Beyond the village the path winds away down seaward, 
bordered by luxurious clumps of beautiful ferns, amongst 
which I recognised an old South Pacific friend, the giant 
fern of Samoa. Here they call it Mong or Mang. But 
for the coconut palms around, I could have fancied 
myself at the Land's End, when I spied a species of 
Osmunda ( Weleni). 

After a slippery descent on the irregularly-paved road 
we found ourselves at Gilifith, and after resting a while in 
the house of Yetaman, the chief, we crossed over to the 
little station on Pilau on a raft of bamboos. Yetaman 
was a withered old specimen of humanity, who told us 
tales of Gaintch (Pelews Gains, Aius) or stray crocodiles, 
which had been known to arrive on Yap and the Pelews, 
drifted on floating logs. Surely some at least of these 
crocodile stories are founded on fact. On the east coast 
of Ponape they tell a tale to the same effect, and I have 
heard a legend of similar type from Lamotrek, where they 
call the caiman or alligator Li-karrach-apom. The name 
has a grimly sonorous ring ; my white informant, formerly 
a resident in Lamotrek, says it means the Saw-toothed 
Woman. The Polynesian horror of lizards and eels may 
be perfectly well explained as a traditional recollection of 
the alligators and venomous snakes left behind them in 
their primitive homes upon the Asiatic sea-board and the 
large islands of Indonesia. Their forefathers would have 
certainly remarked the alligator in the rivers along the 
New Guinea coast, as their successive streams of migra- 
tion flowed past. Their intercourse with the islanders of 
Melanesia, where such saurians abound, would be always 
reinforcing and keeping alive the old tradition. 

That evening the Eugenie turned up with Xavier on 
board to say that O'Keefe was expected very shortly, and 
asking me to come back on the next day but one at 
latest. Therefore I determined to pay a last visit to 
Ramung over the water, and get a few more facts out of 
the old people. The talk that evening turned upon rats 


and lizards and the like small deer, and Konias told a 
heart-rending tale how the Sonsorol people dealt with the 
rats which were such a plague in the island, and woefully 
reduced their stores of food, scanty already as they were. 
" Man catch rat — cut off ear, cut off tail — let 'urn go. 
Him go down hole — fight other rat till him kill." 

An old man in the corner began to tell machamach 
stories about the Galuf or Iguana of Yap, which, he de- 
clared, was a sacred beast in olden times. A number of 
these somewhere in Rul district were kept at the present 
time in a fenced enclosure, and served regularly with 
baskets of food. One, he said, was very large and fat and 
exceedingly tame, which it was only lawful for the priests 
to see. He said that he had seen that day a lizard with 
wo tails, which he spoke of as an ominous thing. Xavier 
said that there were plenty of lizards similarly endowed 
in China, and that the superstition in Macao was that any 
gambler who carried one of these singular double tails 
about his person was sure to have a wonderful run of 
luck. To which the old man in the corner replied that 
he never gambled ; drinking gin was the only excitement 
he permitted himself in his declining years. Would the 
kind Englishman oblige him with a glass of the magical 
water which made the old feel young and strong again ? 
On being told the new ordinance of the Spanish Governor 
prohibiting the supply of gin to the natives, he looked 
deeply disappointed, but on receiving a tumbler of red 
wine, which is not prohibited, he brightened up wonder- 
fully and promised me a fine large iguana for my collec- 
tion. I did not put implicit faith in his promises, but 
sure enough early next morning I beheld the old man 
and his son seated on the verandah smoking, and two 
very fine iguanas lying on the ground below tied up and 
strapped down tightly, paws and tail, to pieces of stick, 
and their mouths secured with strips of hibiscus bark to 
prevent their biting. The old man's yellow dog, taking a 
mean advantage of one of the defenceless saurians, took 


him gently up by the tail to worry. The iguana's muzzle 
of bark somehow slipped off, and the assailant found himself 
seized by the cheek, the lizard in spite of frenzied yelps 
and struggles nipping him in a vicious hold, until his jaws 
were forced asunder with a bit of stick. Great was the 
amusement of the onlookers, and deeply gratified were 
they a little later at the iguana's plunges and struggles in 
the uncongenial bath of alcohol. " S'pose Queen Wiktoria 
him see Galuf, by-im-by him laugh too much," observed 
the old man. " You stop here more long time. I bring 
plenty Galuf more. One Galuf, two pieces black tobacco, 
very good." 

And that day, after rewarding the old man, we pushed 
off for Ramung on our last day's exploration in the north. 
Soon after our arrival at our friend's hospitable house a 
chief called Toluk of Omin or Amon turned up again and 
told us some tales of days gone by. 

In the afternoon we walked over the hills to the settle- 
ment of Bulual on the north side of the island, passing 
on our way two interesting graves at a place called 
Imangangich. The larger of the two had four terraces or 
platforms; the lowest of these measured 32 feet long by 
26 feet broad; the second 26 feet long by 18 feet broad; 
the third 22 feet long by 14 feet broad ; the fourth 18 
feet long by 10 feet broad. From top to bottom the 
height was 8 feet. In the centre stood a long thin upright 
slab of basalt 4 feet high. 

Approaching Bulual on the down slope was very 
slippery work over the paved roads, which on reaching 
the low level emerge into a substantial causeway with a 
deep ditch on either side, overshadowed by fine forest 
trees, amongst which the native chestnut, the banyan and 
the callophyllum were the most conspicuous. At Bulual 
we found B.'s sailing boat waiting at the wharf, which he 
sent round to meet us, and to take in a number of sacks 
of copra, thus combining business and pleasure in our 
overland march. After getting back to B.'s station, he 


presented me with some pretty good sketches of the 
graves which he found time to make. 

That evening we got back rather late, and found 
things as serene as usual in Pilau. Konias put the 
finishing touch on my Sonsorol work, the last of the 450 
key- words were carefully gone over, and after supper 
notebook and pencil were once more called upon. 
Suddenly it was remarked that the east was yellowing 
with the coming dawn. So to rest for an hour or two 
and away on the incoming tide and down to Tarrang 
before the trades. Going down we found a much quicker 
business than coming up. Towards sunset E. and I went 
over to the Spanish settlement and fraternised with the 
doctor of the station and two or three of the officers. 
They seemed pleased to see us, and invited us with true 
Spanish hospitality to stay and dine that evening, but we 
had too much work on hand. 

Next day I spent in observing the ways of O'Keefe's 
colony of Sonsorol boys on Tarrang, whom he had brought 
up from their poor little famine-stricken island, which lies 
about half-way between the Pelews and the coast of Dutch 
New Guinea. In cast of features they resemble Poly- 
nesians much more than the people of Yap or even 
Ponape, their quaint dialect in a great measure recalling 
that of Uluthi and the Western Mortlocks. They appeared 
cheerful and good-humoured, somewhat lazy, but willing 
enough to work when called upon. Some while ago, 
crazy with pilfered rum, they certainly had pitched into 
the man from Macao, chased him into the water, and 
beaten him grievously with bamboos. But this was a 
very rare exception. The Chinese cook on Tarrang, 
according to E., was a strange character, a surly old 
devotee of some queer Chinese sect or other, who hated 
natives and despised white men. He would gamble all 
night with other Chinese from over the water, and would 
fleece them of their hard-earned wages. To E.'s sarcastic 
rebukes on these goings-on he would give most insolent 


replies, careless of the certain punishment in store when 
O'Keefe should return. A little accident happened that 
day which intensified the ill-feeling on both sides. E. 
had just washed his hands before lunch, and threw out a 
large basin of dirty water from the second-floor verandah. 
The Chinese cook below, returning axe on shoulder from 
splitting firewood, was surprised to receive a sudden 
shower-bath, and made a great to-do. When E. looked 
down to see what had caused the whirlwind of curses 
below, he saw his enemy, and the Chinaman seeing him 
raved worse than ever in his shrill pigeon English. E. 
smiled placidly on his victim, and the Sonsorol boys 
shrieked in chorus, whilst Milton, the yellow house-dog, 
and the two foxy-looking " wonks " from Hong-Kong 
swelled the racket with their petulant yap-yap-yapping. 
Next day I made a visit to Tomil across the bay, the 
abode of the powerful chief Lirou. I went in a dingy 
with two Sonsorol boys, carrying with me a two-foot 
rule, a measuring tape, and a small box of biscuits and 
provender. Landing on the Kades or stone jetty just 
below the big club house I saw a number of the lime- 
stone or calcite money-stones leaning against the platform 
of the club house, whilst others lay in front of the wharf, 
some wholly, others partially submerged, with here and 
there a rim or a little bit showing above water. Some 
fish-nets were hanging up to dry in front of a rude but 
lofty boat-house carefully thatched above, but below open 
on all sides to the winds and weather. We inquired the 
chiefs whereabouts, and were directed inland. About a 
quarter of a mile up through a narrow stone-paved avenue 
shaded on either side by bamboos and crotons, we fell in 
with a spacious cane-fenced courtyard paved with stone, 
wherein were two or three native houses. There we were 
told that the chief was in the house at the end of the 
square taking a siesta in the heat of the day. Crossing a 
narrow brook spanned by a fallen palm-trunk we went up 
to the house which lay embowered in a dense mass of 


dracaena, crotons, ferns, and giant arum, a pretty little 
nook. We found Lirou sitting up, and he received us 
graciously, warmly commending my desire to look into 
the antiquities, and take notes on the architecture of his 
countrymen. He begged, however, for half an hour's nap 
to compose himself after yesternight's festivities, and turned 
over to sleep, again recommending us to commence with 
his house, go on with our measurements, and never mind 
him. As in Ponape, the house is closed in at the sides 
with shutters of reed-grass cunningly bound up in regular 
rows with cinnet fibre, the ends of which are brought down 
over the top into a fancy fringe work. Five stout pillars 
of Biutch wood (callophyllurri), the favourite native tree in 
house-building, each at intervals of five feet, hold up the 
house, which in breadth is about sixteen feet. Down the 
middle it is divided by a cane or reed partition. The 
floor is strewn with Kini or rough mats plaited of coco- 
nut leaflets. There was the usual angular verandah in front 
supported by five pillars, the central one tall and slender, 
bisecting the angle of projection. Each side of the house 
had two doorways closed by shutters of cane, which can 
be raised or let down at will. There were two more at 
each end, front and rear. Some bags and baskets were 
hanging up inside, and a sea-chest and one or two small 
boxes completed the visible furniture. 

Lirou was not by any means the only man in the 
village suffering the effects of the orgies of the night 
before. All the island just then was given up to a 
carnival of dancing and drinking, and business in con- 
sequence was nearly at a standstill. A man from Rul 
came in with a cushion of banana skin, and a betel- 
bag under arm, and offered to show us around the 
settlement until the chief had finished his nap. So we 
followed him a good way along the side of a creek bordered 
with masses of asplenium (Lek) and parasol-fern (Kana), 
which I had seen before growing in great quantities on 
the plateaus of Hiva Oa in the South Marquesas. (There 


the natives used to call it Manamana-Ohina or White-fork.) 
Presently we came to a Big House, outside of which lay 
a highly ornamental column of breadfruit wood {Thau) 
under preparation, before being erected for a central pillar 
of the building. The length of it as it lay on the ground 
was 35 feet, and its circumference near the base was j\ 
feet. The base was ornamented by two carved figures of 
fishes (Maltath) on top, and one on each side. At an 
equal distance from either end were two raised representa- 
tions of the Kai or cuttle-fish, separated by a blank space 
in the middle. Each had eight legs, four sprawling each 
way. The breadth of the ornamental fishes at the base 
was 9 inches, their length 4^ feet. A pattern of black 
and white crescents was also worked in. The figures of 
the Kai were rude, consisting of raised white discs, with 
two black spots in the centre to represent the creature's 
eyes. The larger one was j\ feet in length, the smaller 

The blank space in the middle was 7 feet long, just one- 
fifth of the total length of the pillar. The smaller Kai 
had its tentacles painted white, the larger one black. 

The fishes were black, with the fins and backbone 
indicated by lines and dots of white. 

Inside the house were several raised platforms of 
Bioutch wood, borne up on pillars of the same. The 
edges and ends of these platforms were elegantly carved 
in chevrons {wathat) and crescents. One was graven with 
life-like representations of Mui-Bab, the Albatross, the 
messenger of the great god Yalafath after the Flood to 
his creatures below. The carved figures, of the uniform 
size of a foot in height, run alternately up and down, and 
are ranged wing overlapping wing, with an upper one in 
between two lower ones. 

There was another odd design called Meleol, of two 
segments, which, base to base, actually form a cross of a 
rather unusual type. 

It goes without saying that a goodly number of 


village urchins, and a few curious idlers of maturer age, 
gathered around with their comments, and more than 
once our old guide in indignation drove the former 
back with prods of his staff as they pressed too 
closely. " Have you anything like that over sea ? " asks 
some village Caliban. " We do carve a bit, but nothing 
like that," was the answer given with a certain intonation. 
" Good carvers are scarce over sea ? " says the village critic. 
" Aye, and in Yap too," said I, and my facetious friend 
boxed the ears of a boy for laughing. The old man, our 
guide, who had been on a trading vessel or two in his 
time, here improved the occasion by a homily on the 
wondrous foreign engines and manufactures he had met 
in his travels. It was the monkey who had seen the 
world, and found his way back to the forest again. 

Next day news came that two canoes from Mokomok, 
in the Uluthi Group to northward, who, according to 
ancient custom, had come down to pay their tribute, had 
arrived in Gachepa. A boy was sent overland to invite 
down one of the Gachepa chiefs and one of the new 
arrivals. Pending his return, I resolved to visit the islet 
of Obi, across the water, in the dingy, and to increase my 
collection of shells and fishes. Two Yap men were allotted 
to me, but only one turned up in the morning, his mate 
having cleared out on the spree. The little craft, though 
neat and gay to outward view as green and white paint 
could make her, turned out very crank and lop-sided. 
Dipping our long, tapering, Sonsorol blades cautiously 
into the calm water, we paddled up to the mangrove belt 
which encircled Obi. Unhappily the tide was going out 
fast and the boat kept grounding amongst the shallows, 
whilst the boy " poddled " around in the mud seeking 
some passage, whilst I unwillingly had to keep my seat, 
owing to an injury received in my foot the month before 
from a splinter of bamboo whilst climbing up Chila-U 
above Mutok Harbour. Continual wading in salt water 
cruelly irritates all such wounds but when interesting 


work has to be done, and done without delay, one has no 
time to worry over these little inconveniences. 

At last we thrust our craft ashore through an opening 
in the bushes and landed. We found some swamp-shells 
(Botangol) of dingy hue, and picked up some curious 
hairy crabs and several sorts of starfish (Rur). One of 
the specimens was brownish-green, studded thickly with 
bluntish dark-blue points or spikes about f inch in length. 
Another had red spikes, and a third was brownish-green 
all over, spikes and body alike. 

On Obi we collected seeds of various littoral shrubs, 
and a bunch of round black berries from an unknown 
creeper. These, and a large quantity of other seeds, 
collected from time to time from the Caroline area, I 
handed over on my return to Mr Holtze, curator of the 
Botanical Gardens at Port Darwin, who undertook to 
properly classify them. Unfortunately I have not yet 
heard from him. 

The islet was carpeted with wild ginger and coarse 
grass, and dotted with clumps of dwarf bamboo (Mor) 
and the peculiar " Vech " or Avetck, with its clusters of 
small starry, golden yellow blossoms, with a white leaf 
petal at the end of the cluster. We also saw a Wote or 
wild fig-tree (Sanskrit, Void). A number of dracaenas 
were putting out their clusters of delicate lilac bloom, 
overshadowed by a tall Iriu tree, the bark and leaves of 
which recall the Bischoffia javanica (the O'a and Koka of 
Samoa and Tonga), but instead of little bunches of seeds, 
it bears long seed-pods. There were plenty of native 
chestnut and callophyllum trees, and a large bed of yams 
and sweet-potatoes, and a plantation of Lak or water-taro 
down in a cool, dark hollow, the work of the slave women 
of Lirou of Tomil, to whom the islet belongs. We caught 
a large brown and yellow locust or winged grasshopper, 
which the Spanish call langosta, and saw two kinds of 
dragon-fly — one was small and of brown and yellow 
tinting (Osongol), the other (called Galaoleit) larger, had a 


red body, and the wings prettily variegated dark blue and 
white. Returning to our boat we found one of the paddles 
gone, picked up doubtless in a moment of abstraction by 
some passing fisherman. We made shift with a bottom 
board instead of the missing paddle and got leisurely over 
to Tarrang, where I spent the rest of the day putting my 
notes in order, and, in the absence of that useful little 
book Anthropological Notes and Queries, thinking over 
innumerable posers to propound next day to the Gochepa 
chief and the Mokomok man, who had sent word that 
they would surely come. That evening the man from 
Macao presented me with some remarkable shells and the 
tail of a sting-ray (Paibok), with which the Spanish 
non-coms, are reported to quicken up the intellects of 
their raw Manilla recruits. Attached to it is the deadly 
spine (Ruch), some six inches in length, used formerly 
all over the Carolines for tipping arrows, spears, and 
javelins. But the Age of Bone and Stone has passed 
away, and the Age of Iron and Steel has come in, and 
come to stay. 



NEXT morning, sure enough, Matuk of Gochepa and 
a man from Mokomok came down, and a busy 
time they had of it for the next few days (Dec. 3rd to 
8th) — the worthy old Lirou of Tomil coming across two 
or three times to put in his word about the old traditions. 
Most learnedly did they discourse about the stars of 
heaven and days of the moon's age, and the names and 
attributes of bygone gods and heroes ; how came the gift 
of fire and the invention of stone and shell adzes, and of 
the introduction of stone and shell money ; who taught the 
folk to build fish-pens of cane and stone, of Yalafath the 
kindly but indolent Creator, and Luk the spirit of Evil, 
ever nimble and active. They waxed eloquent upon the 
ancient wars with Anangai and Balao (Uleai and the 
Pelews), and told strange tales of the vanished land of 
Sepin or Saiping to the north ; the Yap Atlantis, whence 
came forth fierce warriors, who fought with the men of 
Ramung and Map and put certain of them to tribute, in 
the olden days before the great canoes of the white folk 
from over sea broke through the sky-line from the worlds 
beyond. Many such tales did they utter, and stubbornly 
pencil and note-book toiled behind. The man from 
Mokomok overcame his bashfulness at the bidding of 
Matuk, who conjured him to answer all my questions as 
if I was his very father. Over four hundred Uluthi key- 
words were added to the table of Caroline Island langu- 
ages. They much resembled the Lamotrek, Sonsorol, and 


Uleai equivalents, but had a distinct and peculiar phonesis 
of their own, forming a curious and beautiful link in the 
long chain. 

This Micronesian Viking was earnest with me to remain 
in Yap, for from December to May canoes do not go up 
from Yap to Mokomok as the wind is contrary. I was then 
to return with them to Mokomok and enjoy the hospitality 
of their island. It was a sore temptation, but with a 
mighty effort I repelled it, for Uluthi is all but a terra 
incognita to the white man. And we went on with the 
work pleasantly, a trifle slowly, maybe, but surely. For a 
good interpreter was by, and no pains were spared to 
make sure of every doubtful or obscure point in each tale. 
The Mokomok man said that it was like being tried 
before the council of old men at home, so minutely was 
his evidence sifted and weighed ; but the man, and indeed 
all my teachers, had excellent patience, and native curi- 
osity effectually put native indolence to the rout. More- 
over, there was plenty of strong tobacco to smoke ; they 
were not kept at one subject too long, and to relieve the 
tension, I told them many tales for my part from Ponape 
and Kusaie, fourteen hundred miles to the east, of which 
they have perfectly clear record in their traditions as Fanu- 
pei or Falu-pei and Kuthiu. In a word, my advice to all 
who want to collect folk-lore from primitive races is this : 
(1) First put your native friends at their ease completely 
and get them to laugh and joke. (2) Tell stories yourself, 
leading up to the point or illustration of the question to 
be opened up. (3) Never interrupt to break the thread of 
a tale. You can always hark back after the tale is done 
and clear up any obscurity or apparent irrelevancy. I 
say apparent, because the Caroline Islander seems to 
consider side issues more than central facts. This makes 
his stories a trifle rambling. If taken up and inter- 
rupted, he is likely to ask plaintively, like the fuddled 
man in the story, " Where was I?" A little patience, 
and the native story-teller will make everything fairly 


clear. You can't expect him all at once to have every- 
thing cut and dried, bottled up and corked down and 
labelled, and laid out neatly into prologue, scene, chapter, 
and epilogue like the work of a practised modern essay- 
writer. Our inquiry, whilst it lasted, was indeed a stiff 
business, and how my method succeeded may be seen in 
the Appendix. 

On the 8th of December a Fiesta was celebrated in 
the Spanish settlement with all solemnity. It was the 
date of the Feast of the Conception of the Virgin Mary, 
the Patroness of the Colony. We made up a party to go 
ashore and view the proceedings, and landed at Tapalau 
near the house of the Government interpreter, Dona 
Barthola, a worthy old Marianne lady. As we walked 
along we beheld at the head of the causeway by the 
powder magazine, guarded by a Manilla sentry, cigar in 
mouth, an arch erected of branches of croton and palm 
leaves adorned with streamers of split coconut-leaflets. 
E. and I entered the principal hostelry, " La Aurora" and 
there played an interminable game of " caroms " with 
crooked cues and " elliptical billiard balls." There were no 
pockets at all, and the cloth was cut and seamed in twenty 
different places, showing where someone had blundered. 
Likewise the table was on a slant, as if a baby earth- 
quake had shaken it up. When we had got heartily 
weary of the performance, mine host gave us our 
luncheon. To show that Yap is not quite a bar- 
barous place I will even quote the menu. First came 
Vermicelli soup, then a dish of beans and turtle, with 
the heart and liver taken out, chopped up and made into 
little sausages for a side-dish. Then we were served 
with a plateful of white radishes each. After that came 
fried beefsteak from an animal which had been browsing 
on the plateau that very morning. Then an omelette of 
eggs (Fak-en-mi'men or Hen-fruit), which somehow have 
been preserved from rats, pigs, dogs, and iguanas — a very 
rare dish in the Caroline Islands, and from its rarity much 


prized. A custard and some Spanish sweetmeats, coffee 
and curacoa, ended our meal, which was moistened by a 
bottle of Vino Tinto or rough red wine, and some cider, 
yclept champagne, from some Spanish village of the 
ominous name of Villa Viciosa. 

Arrived at the blessed stage of coffee and cigars, E. 
told me of two tragedies of the Pacific — the slaying of a 
Micronesian trading-skipper by his mutinous crew outside 
the Gilolo passage, and the murder of a like adventurous 
spirit, at Tench Island in the Exchequer Group. There 
is plenty of this kind of raw material going, which I 
suppose some romancist will one of these days work 
up into a fascinating boys' book of traders, savages and 

Numbers of natives are passing and repassing on the 
road, all in holiday best, many of them dressed up in 
trousers and Turkey-red shirts, looking very self-conscious, 
and desperately uncomfortable under all their unwonted 
finery. Some appear to have tasted fire-water, and those 
who haven't look very much as if they would like to, and 
are not at all shy of naming their wants either. Every 
house in the settlement has a Cycas palm {Fauteir) 
planted before it, specially ordered the week before, and 
brought down by the natives from the hill slopes around 
the Magal or Lighthouse on top of Mount Buliel over- 
looking the harbour. Four o'clock Mass is over, and at 
five o'clock the procession is to take place. The whole 
colony is gay with bunting, and the red and yellow flag 
of Castile is much in evidence. I observe that the Union 
Jack is unaccountably absent, and so are the Stars and 
Stripes. " One of them may be here sooner than the 
Dons think for," grumbles my prophetic vis-a-vis. By 
and by the cry arises, " They are coming." Downhill from 
the chapel marches the procession headed by priests in 
red robes, and choristers in white coats, bearing crucifixes 
and pictures and the image of the Virgin. Next marches 
a body of native converts. Then a band of small boys 


fitted with tinsel wings to represent cherubs or angels. 
" I should take them for black-beetles," murmurs my un- 
poetic comrade in the deck chair. Then he livens up for 
a moment, for a bevy of Yap and Marianne schoolgirls 
follows, some of the latter with undeniable good looks, 
prettily dressed in the old Spanish fashion, white lace 
veils and dainty mantillas. Next come a medley of 
half-castes. A group of the officers of the garrison fol- 
lows, and last of all streams along in loose order a wild 
looking crew of natives, comb in hair, marching to the 
accompaniment of bugle, flute and drum. Observing 
narrowly the gentlemen bringing up the rear of the 
motley throng, I observe that many of them can hardly 
keep their legs. Evidently the red wine has been going 
down sweetly. " I'm sorry for anyone who has a 
labour contract in hand to-morrow," said I. " That's so," 
says the cynic. " None of the folk ashore will be able to 
get a native to work for the next week or more. I wish 
I could be out at some of them with a stuffed club. 
They're like a lot of spoiled children, and the Manilla men 
make them worse every day. But we're all right on 
Tarrang. If any of our Sonsorol boys go ashore on the 
spree, they know what they'll catch when O'Keefe comes 

More natives than ever were now crowding around with 
nimble fingers, seeking to pick up any trifles lying about. 
Some who had spent their ready money were staggering 
about the roads offering combs and ornaments, and some 
their wretched wives and female relatives in exchange for 
dollars to purchase draughts of red wine to slake their 
burning thirst. It is a regular Pandemonium. " Such a 
racket that nobody can hear themselves think," is my 
comrade's terse remark. A mean-looking Manilla recruit 
limps along hand to cheek, blubbering like a great baby. 
A fellow-gambler has smitten him forcibly on the mouth 
for cheating, and half strangled him into the bargain. 
Vomiting strange maledictions, his adversary follows 


with a bitten hand. Things are getting lively, now that 
fighting has started, so after doing a little barter we start 
for Tarrang, carrying with us three carven combs, a 
bamboo betel-box, and a marafau or necklace of black 
hibiscus fibre, the insignia of some adult youth, who 
doubtless will catch it hot when his grandpapa sees him 
without it to-morrow. 

The day after the Fiesta the white wings of the long- 
looked for Santa Cruz are seen fluttering far out to sea. 
About noon she sweeps through the narrow harbour mouth, 
E. and I boarding her whilst she is still under way. I 
receive a most cordial greeting from the burly and jovial 
O'Keefe, whom I now meet face to face for the first time. 
A number of Sonsorol and St David's lads are on board, 
reinforcements for the band of workmen at Tarrang. 
Storms have swept their island homes almost bare of coco- 
nuts, and the poor people are only too glad to take service 
with the friend and benefactor who had done much for them 
in past years. 

On board the vessel is a prisoner, a Pelew chieftain 
named Tarragon, a noted homicide. He was one of the 
prime movers in the cutting-off of the trading schooner 
Maria Secunda and the massacre of the crew in 1894, and 
had long defied arrest. O'Keefe held him up singly with a 
revolver in the middle of a menacing crowd, and invested 
him with the order of the bracelet on the spot. We took 
him ashore under guard, and what the Spanish did to him 
I cannot tell, nor do I greatly care to know. He was a 
sullen looking ruffian enough. I daresay he left some others 
just as bad behind him. Doubtless the jaws of Justice 
opened and devoured him even as Alice's walrus swallowed 
the oysters. That very forenoon O'Keefe and E. had a long 
interview with the Spanish Governor, who was consider- 
ably irritated when he heard that the Dutch flag had been 
hoisted on the little barren isle of St David's, and vowed 
that they should hear of it at Madrid. O'Keefe was 
thanked and complimented by the Governor in the grace- 


ful and cordial manner in which the Spanish acknowledge 
a service rendered. There followed a considerable inter- 
change of hospitalities between our island and the shore, 
in which I unfortunately was debarred from taking a 
prominent part, my foot giving me much pain, which I 
endeavoured with some success to charm away by 
unremitting application to work, the good old Lirou 
coming over almost every day with some new tale or 
fresh string of curious facts. " Matches," the Sonsorol 
boy, was generally at hand to get what I wanted, for I 
could hardly set foot to the ground for days. However, 
the Spanish medico gave me relief at last — taking out a 
deeply-embedded splinter that had escaped notice all this 
while. The days were tremendously hot, the evenings 
pleasant and cool, and, thank goodness ! — no mosquitoes. 
There were plenty of books to read, and I was continually 
busy revising old notes and writing new ones. Mrs 
O'Keefe also gave me some valuable assistance in getting 
proper equivalents of my table of key-words in the dialects 
of Sonsorol, St David's, and Nauru. It was then that I 
appreciated what hard honest work Konias on Pilau had 
done for me. " That is a good boy — that Konias," said 
she. " When you come back again, mind you ask my 
husband to let you have a Sonsorol boy. They are good 
boys and always do what I tell them, and I know they 
would work well for you, because you are not always 
grumbling at them and finding fault." 

And if I ever do get back again to the Carolines I 
think I will take her advice. 

On the 14th December the bi-monthly mail steamer 
Satumus from Manilla came in with a batch of deported 
rebels. She was soon coaling at the Tarrang wharf. It 
seemed odd and incongruous to see numbers of Sonsorol 
and Yap men scrambling along with great baskets of coal 
on their heads, like the Egyptians at Port Said, or the 
Japanese coolies at Moji at the entrance of the Inland 
Sea. It was ludicrous to see a stalwart native stalking 


along the quivering plank, basket on head, mother-naked 
under the scorching sun, save for a scanty girdle of red 
hibiscus fibre twisted loosely round his loins — his long 
hair bound up in a bunch behind, with generally a comb 
stuck in it, ornamented by bits of fluttering newspaper 
or cock's feathers. Some of the workers were thickly 
begrimed with sweat and coal-dust, and presented a very 
comical appearance. They did not take any particular 
notice of the Manilla men on board. Those of the 
garrison ashore they have weighed in their own mental 
balance and found wanting, and view the newcomers with 
good-humoured indifference and a shade of contempt, as 
feeble and unwarlike beings. 

The Saturnus had left Manilla on the 7th, and con- 
sequently brought some interesting news of the progress 
of the rebellion. There has been a battle near Cavite, 
and a whole villageful of rebels — some eight hundred in 
number — have been cooped up by the Spanish rein- 
forcements lately arrived via Singapore, and shot down 
to the last man. Considering how the rebels behaved 
after capturing Imus and Bacor one cannot well blame 
the Spaniards for their retaliation. In Manilla just now 
there is considerable feeling against Germans and Ameri- 
cans, and by implication of course Englishmen. There 
are two German and three English men-of-war lying in 
the river, which is just as well in case of accidents. 
The morning the Saturnus left, six rebels were brought 
out and shot on the Luneta esplanade, whilst upwards of 
fifty were reported to be lying in jail ready for platoon 
practice. Their deaths will leave humanity none the 
poorer. Such, at all events, is the opinion of the new 
commander lately arrived from Spain — a man of the 
Parma or Alva type, who, like one of Carlyle's heroes, 
" does not believe in the rosewater plan of surgery." 

So the local governor across the water has plenty to 
think of, and forty more idle, worthless, mutinous rogues 
to house, victual, and discipline. 


Just after the Saturnus left things went a bit askew in 
this island of Barataria, and the good governor's noddle 
was sorely perplexed. A Chinese trader of O'Keefe's came 
down from the neighbourhood of Girigir in the north in 
great distress of mind to complain that a party of natives 
had come upon him and forcibly taken his boat for a fish- 
ing excursion. He was thumped and beaten with sticks, 
and spears were thrown at him, but none of them wounded 
him. When the report of these doings was laid before 
the governor he sent up a sergeant and two privates that 
very day to summon two of the principal natives accused 
to come down and give an account of themselves. This 
they very obediently did, for the Spaniards could never 
have forced them to come down against their will. On 
examination both accuser and accused managed in the 
space of about half an hour to involve themselves in such 
a hopeless fog of lying and perjury, that the governor, 
losing all patience, settled matters with a vengeance by 
jailing them all for two days on short commons as an 
inducement for the future to tell a plain tale plainly. If 
he had sent the interpreter to join them as well, no great 
harm would have been done either. 

On December 16th I received another visit from 
Matuk of Gochepa, who told some more odd facts about 
the Pilungs or aristocracy and the Pimlingai or slave 
class. (Pilung, probably = Sanskrit Puling, a male, and 
means " The Men.") The Pilungs were the old settlers 
— autochthones — and the Pimlingai were castaways from 
other islands. The latter used to call themselves Mal- 
ailai, which possibly answers to the term Malaiu or 
Malay, in Japanese Marai. He gave me to understand, 
moreover, that an ancient judge called Magaragoi intro- 
duced the distinction between freemen and slaves by the 
wearing of the Roai or comb of mangrove wood. Lirou 
came in the afternoon, and as a final bonne bouche, served 
me up further food for thought in the form of the follow- 
ing Yap traditions. 



There was a wise old man in Tomil named Anagumdng, 
to whom Le-gerem showed all the stars of heaven, and 
the seasons of their rising and setting. After three 
months' study this apt pupil took seven men with him 
(the usual " perfect number" in Yap tradition), manned 
a large Gothamite canoe, and sailed into the unknown 
southern waters, in quest of the land of Balao (the Pelew 
Group), under the guiding of the constellation Mageriger 
or Pleiades. Entering the northern reef passage and 
passing Bab-el-Thaob, he came down to the island of 
Peleleu. A little to the northward of the last-mentioned 
island there lie certain conical islets named Kokial scattered 
about the wide lagoon. Here he found a new sort of 
shining stone (which the men of London call arragonite 
or calcite), and conceived the idea of hewing it into 
various portable forms to serve as a rude medium of 
exchange. There was an abundance of pearl-shell here 
as well, to which he helped himself liberally for the same 
purpose. The shining rock he found, and with infinite 
trouble cut it with his shell-axes into the form of fishes 
about a yard long. Some fragments, for the sake of 
variety, his men worked into the shape of a crescent 
moon. Others again they chipped into wheels of different 
sizes, rounded like the orb of the full moon. With these 
last, when they had bored a big hole through the middle 
of each, Anagumang was satisfied. So they loaded up 
their canoe and returned ; the voyage back only taking 
five days. When they took the stones ashore Le-gerem 
kept the wheels with the hole in the middle, and threw 
away the rest as worthless, and put into operation a power- 
ful charm to centre all the desire of the people on the 
recognised standard coinage. 

Before this time, ruefully remarks the narrator, there 
was no fighting in Yap. Ever since that, however, there 
have been constant civil wars in the land, arising from the 


eagerness of each tribe to acquire a large portion of the 
coveted treasure. 

After this there were frequent expeditions going to the 
Pelews from Tomil, Rul, and Gochepa, and many were 
the people who lost their lives from imprudently putting 
to sea in the stormy season. Others, moreover, after 
reaching the Pelews, perished on their return journey, 
their vessels swamping or upsetting from carrying heavy or 
carelessly stowed freight of these precious and fatal stones. 
Others again were slain in battle by the people of the 
country, who were valiant men, and resented these uncalled- 
for visits, and the plundering of their beds of pearl-shell. 


The yam and the taro were in Yap, but as yet there 
was no fire to cook them. The natives used to dry them 
in the sand, and, as it were, sunbake them. And the folk 
suffered grievously from internal pains, and besought 
Yalafath to help them once more. Immediately there 
fell a great red-hot thunderbolt from the sky, and smote a 
Choi tree (Pandanus). At the contact of the fiery element 
the Choi broke out into a regular eruption of prickles 
down the middle and sides of every leaf. Dessra, the 
Thunder god, thus found himself fixed fast in the tree- 
trunk, and called out in a lamentable voice for somebody 
to deliver him from his irksome prison. A woman named 
Guaretin, sunbaking taro hard by, heard the voice, and 
helped the distressed god. He inquired on what work 
she was engaged, and when she told him, bade her fetch 
plenty of moist clay. This he kneaded into a goodly 
cooking-pot (Thib), to the great delight of the worthy 
housewife. He then sent her in search of some sticks 
from the Arr tree (called Tupuk by the Ponapeans), 
which he put under his armpits and infused into them 
the latent sparks of fire, and went his way. This is how 
the art of making fire from the friction of wood, and the 
moulding of pots out of clay came to the primitive folk of 


Yap. Hence two proverbs suggested to the cautious and 
practical Yap mind. 

Moral — " Never refuse to do a good turn to those in 
need, it may pay you better than you think " ; and 
" Beware of hidden fire even when you see no smoke." 


The indefatigable fairy mother Le-gerem prepared to 
astonish her people with a further display of first-class 
magical powers. One day a very big canoe was seen 
slowly floating down from the clouds, let down by 
innumerable ropes or pulleys, just over the village of 
Gocham or Gotham in Tomil. The people flocked in 
crowds to see the wonderful sight. Some inauspicious 
words of the impatient multitude broke the charm. 
Before the canoe could be lowered in safety to the 
earth, the ropes broke, and the wondrous structure was 
smashed up beyond all hopes of repair. Then Le-gerem 
hewed a Vol tree, measured it out with care, and with 
infinite pains made another of similar model. The 
long and somewhat clumsy Yap canoes, running high 
in bow and stern fore and aft like Scandinavian vessels, 
with their heavy solid outriggers and the curious fish- 
tail ornamentation in bow and stern, show how the 
industry of the Gothamite ship-builders followed the 
directions of their long-suffering patroness. 

After the departure of the Saturnus for Guam and 
Ponape I made busy preparations for embarking myself 
and my belongings in the Santa Cruz, O'Keefe having 
kindly offered me a passage in her up to Hong-Kong. 
On the 22nd December, having taken a cordial leave of 
the Spanish governor, priests, officials, and my native 
friends, I went on board the little schooner, heavily laden 
with a cargo of beche-de-mer, much in request amongst 
the Chinese for their New Year festivities. I took with 
me about fifteen boxes of curios in all, which wanted a lot 
of storing. We left about noon, running Goror Point out 


of sight before sunset. We passed the Pelews on our 
right, giving them a wide berth, with a steady north-east 
monsoon helping us on our way until we were within 150 
miles of the Ballintang Straits, which separate Formosa 
from the north coast of Luzon. We spent a very quiet 
Christmas at sea, and the day after it a dead calm fell, 
lasting forty-eight hours just off Duguay Trouin reef. We 
had a motley crew, two Yap men, one boy from Sonsorol, 
one from St David's, one half-caste Pelew islander, and 
two half- wild natives of Ilocan. The first mate was an 
old Tasmanian, and not a soul on board except O'Keefe 
had the remotest notion of navigation. So it is hard to 
conjecture what would have become of us if anything 
had happened to the captain. But in Micronesia no 
one bothers his head in discussing what might have 
been. The last day of the year 1897 we passed through 
the Ballintang Straits between the Batuyan and Batang 
Islands. Entering the China Sea we encountered furious 
tide-rips and very rough water, also occasional squalls 
with heavy rain, and a considerable fall in the thermometer. 
Early on the morning of January 3rd the rude rounded 
and massive outlines of the dreary China coast were 
sighted. Slowly the distant Peak showed up clearer 
and clearer out of the banks of cloud-wrack. There 
fell a spell of light and variable breezes, when to our 
relief a tug-boat came out and towed us in through 
the narrow Lyeemoon Pass, past the Quarries and the 
Sugar Works ; finally, after we had received pratique, 
casting us off to our moorings opposite the weather- 
beaten waterfront of Wanchai about three o'clock on 
a bright and sunny Sunday afternoon. Thence into the 
bustling streets filled with rickshaws and pedestrians, 
where one realises that if Europe is still far off the 
islands are very far off too. 

And thus I made my first step back to the civil- 
isation of the West, carrying with me into the busy 
streets of great cities and the stirring hum of their marts, 


thoughts of a strange folk whom my people have not 
known ; carrying with me, I say, into our island of cloud 
and mist and fog, memories ineffaceable of tropic woods 
unscorched by frost, unstripped by rigorous winter, visions 
of bluest sky and sea, and of a serene, fragrant and 
lustrous air dreamed of by poets, but as yet unchronicled 
by artists. And now, weary of our smoky cities, I soon 
shall be returning to mountain and coral-strand, to a 
land of hanging woods and singing waters. As carols 
the settler of Yeat's Lake Isle of Innisfree : — 

" And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, 

Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings 
There midnight's all a glimmer and noon a purple glow, 

And evening full of the linnet's wings. 
I will arise and go now, for always night and day 

I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore ; 
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey 

I hear it in the deep heart's core." 


(a) clan names of ponape 

Called Tupu or Tipu, also Chou-tapa 

Note. — The names within brackets are those of the 
principal chiefs belonging to the several tribes. 

i. Tupu-en-Panamai (Noch, in Metalanim). 

2. Tupu-en-man tontol (King Rocha of Kiti), patron- 
saint Ilako, a name that appears in the Yap Pantheon as 
Ilagoth. The Man tontol, or Dark bird, is the Kau-alik 
or Blue Heron. 

3. Choun-Kaua (The Wachai of Chokach, Lap-en-Not, 
the headman of Not, and Chaulik of Tomara). 

4. Tupu-lap, a Mount Wana clan, allied to Nos. 2 and 1 3. 

5. Lipitan (Nanekin of Kiti). 

6. Lachi-alap (King of U). 

7. Tupu-en-Papa. 

8. Tupu-en-Luk = the children of Luk, the spirit of 
guile and mischief. 

9. Tip-en-uai, the descendants of Icho-Kalakal's great 
invading force from the South. (Nanekin in Metalanim, 
also Lap-en-Paliker, Lap-en-Langar, and the influential 
chieftain Nan-matau of the Palang valley. The totem of 
this tribe is the Likantenkap or Sting-ray. 

1 o. Latak. 

1 1. Chau-n-P6k. 

1 2. Tup-en-man-en-Chatau. The children of the Devil- 
Bird or Native Owl. (Chatau = Pueliko, the Ponapean 
Inferno.) In Malay the name of the Owl Burong Hantu 
has the same meaning. 

13. Tip-en-man-potopot. The Man-potopot or White 
Bird is the Chik or Boatswain bird. Another Kiti tribe. 


14. Choun-pali-en-pil. The people of the waterside. 
1 5. Naniak (Nanchau-Rerren of Roch and Annepein). 

16. Chou-n-Chamaki. Chamaki is the name of a hill 
near Chap-en-Takai on the south-west coast. 

1 7. Li-ara-Katau. This tribe is now extinct. 

18. Chou-n-mach. Probably representing the ancient 
Malay element. Literally. The People of the olden Times. 

19. Choun-Kiti. 

The old name for a king was Chau or Akata, and 
Icho meant a prince. The kings of Metalanim and U 
are entitled Ickipau, their queens Likant. The king of 
Kiti is variously called Nanamareki or Rocha, his wife 
being called Nan-alik. The wife of the Wachai or prince 
of Chokach is styled Nanep. The children of a king 
were called Cherrichou. Other chiefly titles were Taok, 
Nock, Chau-ivana, Nanaua, Nanapei, Nankerou-n-pontake, 
Nanit-lapalap, Nalik-lapalap, Nanchau, Chautel, Lumpoi, 
A untol-rerren, Mar} A u, A u-en-pon-pei, Ckoumatau, Chaalik? 
the smallest title of all. Then came the Maio or Freed- 
men, then the Aramach-mal or Common folk ; and, last of 
all, Litu or serfs, mostly descended from prisoners of war. 

Counted equal to the nobles were the two religious 
bodies, the Chaumaro or high priests, and the Laiap or 
priests of the second order. These were of great weight 
and importance in the land, and united the functions of 
doctor, magician, rain-maker, and diviner of the future. 
Theirs was the knowledge of medicinal herbs and poisons, 
the gift of Kapakap or prophecy, of the Macha-kilang or 
second sight, the interpretation of dreams and omens, and 
the dreaded power of the Ria or imprecation of curses. 
Upon them devolved the ordering of Court ceremonies 
and public festivals, and the seasonable invocation of the 
gods of rain and harvest, the staving off of famine and all 
calamities, public and private, and the maintenance of the 

1 Cf. Maori, Mara! Sir, a salutation of a young man to an older. 

2 Perhaps akin to S. -W. and S. Polynesian, Tauhkaleka, Taurekareka, and 
Taule'ale'a, a youth, beau. (In Maori, a rascal.) 


Charaui or Tabu. Theirs were the principal seats upon the 
Lempantam or high stone platform in the Nach or Council 
Lodge — theirs, next to the king's, the best portion of 
cooked food and kava upon the days of solemn festival. 

Throughout all the tribes great respect was paid to the 
chiefs, who were never addressed as " thou," but always in 
the second person plural u ye." As in Malaysia there 
were many special words used in addressing a chief, and 
again there was another set form of words for addressing 
the king, who was looked up to with great awe, and only 
addressed in the plural of majesty as " They." The 
chiefs mingle amongst their tribesmen with great famili- 
arity and affability, which, no doubt, forms a fresh bond 
of sympathy and union. They all hold together loyally ; 
offend one, and all are eager to take up his quarrel. If 
the chief be a kindly hospitable man, his people will follow 
his example. If he be a rogue and a churl, his people 
will act as rogues and churls too. And this I have 
observed is a characteristic of Caroline islanders in 
general. They seem to have little independence of 
judgment, and love to follow the lead of their chiefs in all 
things crooked or straight, right or wrong. 

(b) names of native diseases 

The miasmas arising from the swampy belt of alluvium 
surrounding Ponape give rise to various catarrhal and 
febrile maladies, very fatal to the old people during the 
rainy season, with its light and variable winds. An 
important factor in the health of the people is the trade- 
wind that blows clear and fresh out of the north-east from 
October to May. Their names for fever are : Cho-mau- 
pou and Chomau-karrakar, the first denoting the cold, the 
second the hot fit of the malady. 

They call the smallpox, introduced by a whaling vessel 
some forty years ago, and which carried off half the 
population of the island, Kilitap or Peeling Skin. 

Consumption, for which the natives also have to thank 


the whalers, is called by the grim name Ll-MONGOMONG 
or " The Lady who shrivels men up." 

The venereal disease, now happily quite of rare occur- 
rence, is called KENCH (Jap. Kanso), upon Yap Rabungek. 

Scrofula {Pir) is fairly common, the result of a poor diet. 

Leprosy (Tukotuk), somewhat rare, and of a compara- 
tively mild type ; probably introduced from the East by 
the early Asiatic settlers {cf Maori Tukutuku : a curse, to 

Rip is the generic term for sores and ulcers (Kusaian 
Ruf) {cf. Tahitian ; Ripa, wasting sickness). 

Cough is Kopokop (Kusaie Kofkof), a cold or catarrh, 
Tot or Punan. 

Asthma is Lukoluk. Hiccough, Marrer. 

Rheumatism, Matak. Vomiting, Mumuch. Headache, 
vertigo, Maaliel. 

Home-sickness or nostalgia, Lit-en-chap. Paralysis, 

Delirium, Li-aurdra. Insomnia, Ika-n-pong. 

Itching, Kili-pitipit or Quick-skin. 

Constipation, Tang, Teng. Dysentery, said to have 
been introduced from Manilla, Pek-en-inta. 

Squint is called Macha-pali, or eye on one side. 

Blindness is Mach-kun. Fainting is Machapong. 

Lameness is Chikel {cf. Javanese Chongkul). 

A swelling of the hands into hard lumps is called 
Komut-en-Kiti ; query, chalk-stones. 

The disease known as Tanetane in Polynesia, appearing 
as an eruption of light-coloured maculae on the brown 
native skin, is Chenchen (Kusaie Tantan, spotted). 

The curious furfuraceous disease, mentioned by Guppy 
as so prevalent in the Solomon and Gilbert Islands 
called Tokelau Leprosy or Tokelau ringworm, is very 
common in Ponape, where it is called Kili-en- Wai or The 
Foreign Skin. 

Elephantiasis is also common in this group which the 
ethnic mutilation (Lekelek) is supposed to guard against. 



I here give the native names arranged in alphabetical 
order, and where possible with the botanical name side by 
side. To each is affixed a description of its economical or 
medicinal qualities, use, or special virtues. I have some- 
times subjoined the neighbouring Micronesian, the Poly- 
nesian, or the Philippine Island name, agreeably to the 
recommendation of Guppy in his book upon the Solomon 
Islands, pp. 186-190. A more complete dissertation 
upon the widespread distribution of similar plant and 
tree-names throughout the great Pacific area will be found 
in a paper of mine which appeared in the Transactions 
of the Polynesian Society of New Zealand in 1897. 


Adit, Abitk, Abiut. The Yap name for a bush-tree 
bearing round edible fruit of a dull green, marked all over 
with light yellow raised patches. Flavour sweet and 
mawkish. The pulp has an offensive, sour odour. 

Aio. The Banyan-tree of Ponape (Ficus Indica). The 
Ao of the Mortlocks and the Aoa of Polynesia. (Also 
called on the east coast Oio.) 

Ais. (Parinarium laurinum.) The Atita of the Solo- 
mon Islands, the Adhidh of Yap, the A set of the Mortlocks. 
In the Pelews known as LAUG. It grows to a considerable 
height and produces large circular rough reddish-brown 
fruits about the size of a cricket-ball. A decoction of 
the pericarp is used for painting canoes red, and the 
kernel produces a good varnish-oil used in conjunction 
with clay for caulking seams of leaky boats. 

Ak. The generic word for mangroves. (Tagal BakaJi). 
The upper branches run into long straight wands or poles 
which are used for spear-shafts, rafters, punting-poles 
and husking-sticks. N.B. — In Polynesia Oka denotes a 
husking-stick or rafter. 

Alek. An elegant species of reed-grass, the slender 


stems of which are extensively used for making shutters 
and floorings. 

Aput, Apuit. A white-wood riverside tree used for the 
Kerek or figure-heads of canoes. 

Aulong. A species of wild ginger bearing a reddish or 
crimson spike of flowers called Likaitit. 

C H 

Chat. The Custard-apple (Anona squamosa). In Yap, 

Chaiping, Chaping. (Heritiera littoralis.) The Metalanim 
name for the Marrap-en-chet, i.e. the Marrap or chestnut 
of the salt water, the sea-side species, to distinguish it from 
the Marrap of the woods (Inocarpus edulis). The 
Chaiping has singular keeled seeds. The under part of the 
leaf is of a silvery whiteness. Wood hard and white, used 
by boat-builders. The Pipilusu of the Solomon Islands 
(Guppy). In Tagal Sapang denotes a hard-wood tree. 

Chair-en-uai {i.e. The Foreign Flower). The U and 
Metalanim name applied indifferently to a species of 
Gardenia, and to the Cananga odorata. (The latter is the 
Ylang-ylang of the Philippines and the Moso'oi, Mohoki 
and Motoki of Polynesia.) With Chair, Sair, " a flower," 
compare Javanese Sari, " a flower," and Polynesian Tiare, 
Siale id. 

Chakan. The Candle-nut tree (Aleurites triloba). 
Known in the Polynesian area as Rama, Lama and Ama, 
also as Tutui. The charred nuts used by the Ponapeans 
for making a black paint. 

Chakau, Choko. The kava of Polynesia (Piper Methy- 
sticum). From its pounded roots the national beverage is 
made. It is extensively grown all over the island, except in 
the Metalanim tribe, where its raising is vetoed. The word 
is connected with the Japanese Sake, Saka, which denotes 
(a) rice-spirit, (b) strong drink in general. Compare Kusaie 
Seka, (a) the kava-plant, (b) the drink prepared from it. 

Chalanga-en-ani. A fungus or toadstool. Literally 
"Devil's ear." 


Chapachap, Chap-el-lang. A sort of rush growing on 
the plateaus and hillsides. 

Chapokin. A species of wild arum. 

Chatak. The Elaeocarpus, and the Nil-Kanth of India. 
A tall forest tree, its trunk supported by wide flanges or 
buttresses. The wood is white and firm, much used by 
the Ponapeans for canoe-building. The berries are exactly 
the size and shape of an olive, but of an intense cobalt 
blue. They are eaten by the fruit-pigeons. I have seen 
the tree also upon Strong's Island {Kusaie). Habitat the 
upper hill-slopes. (Perhaps akin to Malay Jati, teak.) 

Chaua. The generic name for the Arum esculentum or 
Taro, of which several varieties are cultivated on Ponape. 
(Compare Motu, Nuku-Oro, and Marquesan Tao the Taro, of 
which word the Ponapean is a harsher Micronesian variant.) 

Chenchul (Ipomea sp.). A creeping plant with purple 
flowers, like a convolvulus, found on all the island beaches. 
Decoction of leaves drunk by child-bearing women. 

Cheu. The sugar-cane. (Compare Polynesian To, Fijian 
Ndovu, Malayan Tubu, German New Guinea Tab, Tup, 
Tep.) Called upon Ngatik Chou. In Paliker district the 
name Cheu is tabued, as it occurs in the name of a local 
chief, and the name Nan- Tap or Madame Tap is substituted, 
the older form of the word coming back into life and use 
in this curious way. (Varieties : Cheu-ntd, with dark-red 
stems. Cheu-puot, with light-coloured stems. Cheu-en-uai, 
with brownish stems. Cheu-en-air, with speckled stems. 
Cheu-rei, with banded stems and dark-coloured juice.) 

Choio. A waterside tree. Hard white wood. Droop- 
ing habit of boughs. Longish leaves. Habitat, the 
swampy banks near the mouths of the rivers. 

Chong, Chom. A variety of the mangrove {Bruguierd). 
(Cf. Polynesian Tongo, the mangrove.) The bark of the 
root-stems is used for dyeing a brown or reddish-brown 
colour. In some Pacific Islands bits of the bark are 
thrown into the calabashes of fresh coconut-toddy so as 
to set up a speedier fermentation. 


Choun-mal, i.e., " Worthless fellow." The Stinging Nettle. 
(The Salato of Samoa. Malay Jalatan id.) 

Chongut. A bush-tree in Yap with a burning milky 
sap, which, falling on the skin, produces obstinate and 
terrible ulceration. 


Ichak. A wild vine of the gourd family {Cucurbitacece). 
The natives use its fruit for calabashes. The name is also 
used to denote a coconut bottle. 

Ichao, Ichau, the Callophyllum Inophyllum. The Fetao, 
Hetau and Tamanu of the Polynesian area, and the Bitao 
of the Philippines. It is the Iter of Kusaie, the Icher of 
the Marshall group. Its wood is firm and durable and of 
a rich reddish-brown colour, equally good for boat-build- 
ing or for ornamental work. It produces round fruits 
with a bitter-sweet kernel, rich in a resinous greenish oil 
most valuable for rheumatism. It is the Ndilo oil of 
Fiji, which in 1870 commanded such a ready sale in the 
European market. In 1890 I sent two bottles of the oil 
from Samoa to Dr Tarrant of Sydney for experimental 
purposes, but, as frequently happens in these cases, no 
reply was ever received. 

Ikoik. The Kanava of Nuku-Oro, the Tou of the 
Marquesas. A littoral tree producing scarlet trumpet- 
shaped flowers. It has a dark brownish-red wood 
valuable for boat-building. 

Ikol. A small weed with round leaves used for dressing 

Ingking {Compotacea sp.). A littoral shrub found on 
the low coral islets in the lagoon bearing crimson fruit, 
oblong like that of a sweet-briar. Flowers small ; 
greenish yellow. A decoction of the bark and leaf are 
used to cure colic and internal pains. 

Inot(Sc<zvolaKcenigii). A tall littoral tree with large juicy 
obovate leaves of a bitter flavour and small white cruciform 
flowers with a violet centre. A decoction of the leaves 


forms a fine tonic, and the natives say an aphrodisiac. A 
curious appearance is given to the leaves by the presence 
of white, raised markings running into a network recalling 
the maculae of the Tokelau ringworm on the human skin. 
I have seen the shrub growing on the roadside near the 
Quarries and the Sugar-Works in Hong-Kong harbour. 
Upon Nuku-Oro it is called Manuka-pasanga. In the 
Mariannes it is called NANASO; in Japanese, KUSA-TOBERA. 

Ioio. A bush-plant running up to some ten or twelve 
feet in height, with leaves like a Canna and juicy stalks 
like a ginger plant. It bears white flowers. The fruits are 
red in colour and oblong in form, growing together in a long 
bunch or raceme. The juice is aromatic and astringent. 
A decoction of the pith is used by the natives as an 
unfailing specific for diseases of the mucous membrane. 

lol, Yol. A species of giant convolvulus growing on 
the hill-slopes : flowers large, white, with sulphur-yellow 
centre. A decoction of the leaves and seeds possesses 
properties akin to those of ergot of rye. Much used 
by the native women for procuring abortion. 

Ita, Ita-n-wal. The wild Ratan-cane (Samoan Lafo). 


Ka, Ke. A shrub cultivated for the sweet cinnamon- 
scented essential oil extracted from its bruised and 
crushed bark. The Ka-en-Mant is a particularly choice 
species (Cinnamum Terglanicum ?). 

Kalak. A tall bush-tree. 

Kalau. The Hibiscus Tiliaceus. (The Gili-fau of 
the Mortlocks, the Kal of Yap, the Lo of Kusaie and 
the Marshall Islands.) (The Ponapean name Kala-hau 
contains two elements, the latter the Polynesian Fau, 
Hau, Malay Baru, 1 Tagal Bali-bago.) Strips of the bark 
form the native cord or string, and was often beaten 
out into baste to make women's dresses (" Li-kau ") in 
olden times. From the flowers and leaves a decoction 

1 The Varu of Aurora and New Hebrides. 


is made possessing astringent qualities, a great native 
remedy for urethritis. 

Kamp-en-ial, Kamp-en- Yap. A bush-shrub with long 
narrow leaves, bearing tiny inodorous white flowers, 
four or five together on a stem. The Seasea of Samoa. 
(Eugenia sp.). 

Kamuche. A shrub growing some ten feet high, 
bearing small bluish-mauve flowers. Habitat, the low 
coral islets in the lagoon. 

Kanau, Kaman. A tall bush-tree with pinnate leaves 
and curious heavy wrinkled seeds like the kernel of a 
walnut. Firm white wood. Habitat, the banks of the 
Pillap-en-Chakola Creek, Ascension Bay, north coast 
(Cynometra sp.). 

Kanepap. A tall forest tree bearing minute flowers 
in panicles. Wood used in house-building. 

Kanepul. Bush - tree. (According to Dr Pereiro, a 
Dracontomelum, order Anacardiae.) 

Kangit. The name applied indifferently to the true 
Mango (Mangifera Indica) ; and to a large tree (Pangium 
edule), bearing huge round fruits like those of an alligator 
pear, containing ten or twelve seeds exactly like the single 
one of a mango, and filled with a custard-like yellowish pulp 
of delicious flavour. Upon Yap the tree is called RAUAL. 
Decoction of the boiled bark valuable cure for urethral 
troubles. The kernel of the seeds contains a narcotico- 
irritant poison. 

Kap. The generic word for the yam, extensively 
cultivated in all the districts. 1 {Cf. Japanese Kabu, a 
turnip ; Philippines, Gabe ; Polynesian, Rape ; Ape id, 
the Arum costatum. 

Some of the varieties : — 

Kap-e-lai, Kape-e-palai. Sweet variety. (Samoan Ufi- 

1 At the planting of the yams at the beginning of the rainy season there was 
held a singular ceremony. The chief priest came forward with a digging-stick 
in his hand, with which he raked about in the ground, with the solemn 
incantation, " Champa kota, airi koti" i.e., " Good soil rise up, poor soil sink 


lei, and Palai yam. sp., compare Mangaian Ui-parai.) 
Kap-en-mali : Round, light-coloured skin. Kap-namu ; 
Long. Kap-en-Ant : Light-coloured skin. Kap-mpulam- 
pul: Dark purple skin and flesh. Choice variety. The 
potato is called Kap-en-uai or the Foreign Yam ; and the 
Sweet Potato Kap-en-Tomara, or the Yam of Tomara, 
from a village near the Palang River on the west coast 
where it was first introduced. Similarly the Fijians call 
the sweet potato Kawai-ni-vavalangi, or the Foreign 
Yam ; the Malays Ubi-Jawa, the Yam of Java. In the 
Pelews the potato and the sweet potato are styled Tulngut- 
al-Barath, i.e. the Yam from the Westward. 

Kara, Kora. A tall forest tree. Hard heavy wood, 
white when first cut, but turning red after a few days. 
Good for cabinet-making. Habitat, hill-slopes above 
Metalanim harbour and around the Kipar and Paliker 
district on the west and south-west coast. 

Karara. A species of wild nutmeg (Myristica). Fruits 
chewed in olden time to make the teeth red. (Query, as a 
substitute for betel-nut ?) 

Karamat. Species of dead-nettle. Crushed leaves used 
for poulticing indolent ulcers. 

Karrat. A large plantain with bright orange flesh 
(Malay Kalat, Kusaie Kalas, Hindustani Kadli, Keld). 

Karrer. The Kiti and Chokach word for trees of the 
citrus family, such as the orange, lemon or lime. (The 
Kahit of the Mariannes. In Kusaie, Osas. In Yap, 
Gurgur and Guerguer^) 

Katai, Kotop. Varieties of areca-palm found on the 
plateaus and the upland slopes. Children sometimes 
chew the nuts, the adults very rarely. The habit of 
Betel-nut chewing practised so universally in the Philip- 
pines, the Mariannes, the Pelews and in Yap, somehow 
has not taken root firmly amongst the Ponapeans, who 
appear to find the stimulus of Kava-drinking sufficient 
for their needs. 

Katar. The tree-fern found in great abundance in 


ravines and clefts of the hills. The trunks are often used 
for posts in house-building. 

Katereng. The sweet basil. Used in soups and for 
making tea, an excellent fever draught. A decoction of 
the leaves in boiling water is a capital application to 
fevered, aching and wearied limbs. 

Katiu, Katia. The Ixora. A forest tree of upright and 
sturdy growth, with long narrow leaves and umbels of 
brilliant scarlet blossoms with a yellow centre. Spear- 
shafts are made of the stems, also punting-poles and 
rafters. This tree also grows in great magnificence upon 
Kusaie to the south-east and upon the King's Isle of Lele 
where it is called Kasiu. In Yap it is called Katchu y and 
in the Uluthi group Kathiu. 

Katol. The Paper-Mulberry (Broussonettia papyrifera). 
The Puuehu of the Marquesas and the Lau-Ua of Samoa. 
It is not common in Ponape, which may account for the 
absence of the native cloth called Sz'apo, Ngatu or Tapa 
by the Samoan, Tongan and Marquesan islanders. How- 
ever, rarity or absence of this fabric in Ponape was 
compensated by the bast obtained from the bark of the 
Hibiscus and the Nin, a ficoid tree. A curious and 
instructive word in this connection is the Gilbert Island 
word for clothes, Kun-ne-kai, literally Skin of Trees. 

Kawa. A tree growing on the mud-flats and salt-water 
marshes just inside the outer girdle of mangroves that 
hem in the lowlands. It has narrow, pointed, fleshy 
leaves growing two and two on a stalk, and bears tufted 
crimson flowers (Kandelia Rhcedii). 

Keiwalu. A wild vetchling. There are two sorts, one 
resembling an everlasting pea, with pinkish-purplish flowers 
and broad leaves ; the other, with smaller leaves and 
yellow flowers of like shape, found creeping everywhere 
around the beaches just above high water mark. 

Ken. A tree found growing on the swampy banks near 
the mouths of the rivers. It has dark brown wood, used 
for boat-building and for making posts for the houses. 


In the Solomon Islands, KENKEN is the Coix lacryma or 
Job's tears. 

Kerari. In Kiti, a shrub with rough leaves like those of 
a sage-bush and bearing bright blue flowers. On the 
North Coast, Maikon. Upon Yap, Tenk. 

Kiap, Kiep, Kiop. The native lily, with white petals and 
yellow stamens and pistils. The Kinf 'of Kusaie, the Gieb 
of the Marshall and Gilbert Islands. In the Mariannes 
Kafo is the flower of the Pandanus. Cf. Maori, Kopakopa, 
the New Zealand Lily. In Japan Gibo denotes one of the 

Kipar. The Kiti name of the Pandanus or Screw-pine 
(P. utilis and odoratisswius). The Fas, Far, and Fat, of 
the Mortlocks, the Fala and Fasa of Samoa, the Hala and 
Fara of Hawaii and Tahiti, the Hara-hagh and Harassas 
of Indonesia. In Japanese Tako-no-Ki, i.e., The Tree of 
the Octopus. 1 

Kirikei. The old name of the Wompul, Weipul or 
Morinda Citrifolia. 

Kiri-n-chom. The rhizome of the mangrove tree. 

Kirrak-en- Wal. Lit. The Kirrak of the Bush. The 
jamboo or Malay apple, the Nonu-fiafia of Samoa, known 
in other portions of the Pacific area as Kehia, Ehia, Ohia, 
Kahika, Kafka and Geviga. In the central Carolines the 
name Kirak or Girek denotes the native chestnut (Inocar- 
pus edulis) (cf. Maori Karaka, a tree with edible seeds). 

Kitau. The Polypody fern — much used for garlands. 
The crushed leaves and stalks are mingled with scraped 
coconut and a scented oil is expressed therefrom. 

Kiti. The Cerbera lactaria and C. Odollam, found on 
the island beaches. The Leva, Reva and Eva of Poly- 
nesia. Every part of the tree is highly poisonous, and the 
crushed nuts are all too frequently employed by the women 
of the Marquesas group for suicide. 

1 The natives of the Harvey Group (S.-E. Polynesia) have a strange idea 
current of a species of octopus that comes ashore at dark, climbs the Ara or 
Pandan tree and devours its fragrant blossoms. 


Kom. Cf. Japanese Kombu, seaweed. A seaweed with 
remarkable narcotic properties found growing in little tufts 
on the edge of the Mat or detached reefs in the lagoon. 
Used by fishermen in capturing the jellyfish Raraiak and 

Konok. The betel-pepper, a small species of the kava 
plant which climbs like ivy around the trunks of trees. 
The Kolu of the Solomon Islands. (In Peru Kunuka is a 
climbing plant.) 

Korront. A burr-bearing weed, found on rubbish-heaps 
and in the neighbourhood of the clearings in rear of each 
native settlement (Sida retusd). 

Koto. A species of mangrove with white flowers and 
circular leaves and rounded seeds. Wood white and firm, 
good for cabinet-making. It is the Hali-a-paka or White 
Mangrove of the Marianne Group. 

Kupu-n-Tanapai, i.e. the plant of the Tiger Shark. 
The fanciful name of the Osmunda regalis or Royal Fern. 


Lampa, mould, mildew. 

Likaitit. The rose-coloured flower-spike of the wild ginger. 

Likam. A climbing plant bearing flowers like a con- 
volvulus in shape — of a light mauve-colour — with a deep 
purple-mauve eye. 

Lim. General term for sponges (Polynesian Limu, 
Rimu — seaweed). 

Lim-en-kaualik is a scarlet sponge — Paia, a yellow one. 

Lim-en-tutu. The sponge of commerce, and Lim-en- 
auar a brown and dark-blue species. 

Lim-en-Tuka. Lichen or moss growing on trees, which 
sometimes is wonderfully like a sponge. (Specimen in 
South Kensington Museum.) 

Lim-Par. A long-fronded fern growing on trees over- 
hanging the riverside. 

Luach. A tree exactly resembling Callophyllum ino- 
phyllum, save that instead of round fruits it bears pear- 


shaped ones. (Upon Kusaie — Ltms.) The aromatic 
rhind used by natives for stringing garlands, and as an 
ingredient in preparing their Uchor or scented oil. 


Mai. The breadfruit, of which I counted forty-five species. 

Maikon. A shrub growing five or six feet high ; rough 
leaves, blue flowers. Decoction of leaves a blood purifier. 

Makiach. A bush-shrub. 

Mang. The swamp-taro (Colocasia) with forked roots, 
whence its name. It bears yellowish fiower-spathes. {Cf. 
Samoan Manga-na'a, Manga-siva,) species of water-taro. 

Mangat. A large species of plantain. 

Marachau {i.e. the king's garland or necklace). 
(Dysoxylum or Averrhea, sp. ?) A tall and handsome 
forest tree. The leaves grow by fives together on a stalk, 
and somewhat resemble those of an English ash. 

Marek. The common fern. 

Marrap. The Inocarpus edulis, the Ihi, Ifi and /* of 
Tonga, Samoa and Mangaia. In Efatese — Mabe. The 
Tahitian name is Mape. In Mortlocks, Marefa. It is a 
sacred tree in which Naluk the God of Thunder is sup- 
posed to dwell. Its boiled bark yields a valuable 
astringent drug. Its firm white wood is much used in 
boat-building, the root buttresses supplying good material 
for the bends and strengthening pieces. The large 
flattish fruits are very much like an English chestnut 
in flavour, and form a very welcome addition to the native 
fare. A sucking-pig or fowl stuffed with Marrap fruit 
and baked in the earth-oven is a dish not to be despised. 

Marrap-en-Chet. (In the white man's pidgin Ponapean 
" Marry-bunchy " ) is the Kiti name for Heritiera littoralis, 
properly not a Marrap at all. 

MatakeL The fragrant leaf-like flower of the Pandanus 

Matai. A medicinal bush-weed, decoction of leaves 
drunk by child-bearing women. 


Matal. Applied both to the bush pandanus and to the 
Freycinetia, the Salasala and hie of Samoa, the Kiekie of 
eastern Polynesia, the Give of the Banks Group, and the 
N'er of Yap. 

Matal-in-Iak. A bush-weed. Decoction of leaves 
good for headache. 

Mateu, Matu. The Sassafras or wild Sarsaparilla. 

Matil. A long-fronded fern. 

Mekei. The old name for the Kitau or Polypody fern. 

Mokomok. The generic name of the Tacca or South 
Sea arrowroot all over the Caroline area. (In Polynesian 
called Pia.) The Mamago of Mamako or the Solomon 
Islands (Guppy). One of the Uluthi or Mackenzie Group 
gets its name from the quantity of Tacca grown there. 

Momiap. The pawpaw, mammee or mummy apple 
(Carica papaya). The Ketela of Malaysia, the Es of Kusaie 
and the Est of Samoa. Introduced into Ponape about 1 840 
by an old French settler — the recluse of Nan-Moluchai re- 
ferred to in the account of our visit to the Metalanim ruins. 

Mpai. A species of tree-fern. 

Muerk (Psychotria). A bush-tree. Decoction of 
bark used for curing aphtha or thrush in children. 


Nan-Karu. Name given to plants of the orchid 
species, which also is designated by the name Kiki-en- 
kaualik or " Blue Heron's claw." 

Nan-Tap. The Paliker local name for the Cheu or 

Ni. The coconut palm, of which there are several 
varieties. 1 One has an edible husk (Ni-atol, the Niu- 
mangalo of Polynesia). N.B. — A curious freak of nature 
is sometimes seen in a single nut out of a cluster, the 
kernel of which is divided up into two, three, or four 
compartments, from each of which a shoot springs. 

1 In Polynesian, Niu, Nu ; Malayan, Niyor, Nur ; Philippines, Niyog ; 
Skt., Nariyar. 


This is called in Ponape Pat-en-parang. Upon Mokil, 

The nut has several names according to its stages of 
development. Small nut just forming, Kurup {Cf. Maly., 
Karapa, Kalapd). Green drinking-nut, soft kernel com- 
mencing to line the shell, Up in Kiti, Pen in Chokach and 
Metalanim. Next stage, kernel - thickening, Mangach. 
Stage when the nut is fully ripe and falls down ready for 
copra-making, Arring, Arrin. [Upon Pingelap, Takatak.~\ 
In the final stage the solid kernel occupying the whole of 
the interior takes on change, and becomes a soft spongy 
mass, and the shoot of the young palm sprouts out through 
one of the eyes. It is then called Par. The contents of 
the sprouting nut, when roasted, are a favourite diet for 
invalids. The husk is called Tipanit. From this the cinnet 
or cord is twisted. Inipal is the name of the natural 
cloth clinging around the base of the leaf-stalks or fronds. 
The flower-stalk is Tangkal ; the leaf or frond Paini ; the 
sheath of the flower-stalk Koual ; the central spine of 
leaflets Nok, and the oil Le or Ler (when scented, Uchor.) 
Nin. A ficoid tree allied to the Banyan. It grows 
abundantly in the valleys and hill-slopes. From the bark 
the woman's dress (" Li-kau ") was made. {Cf. Malay Nunu, 
the lesser Banyan.) N.B. — Nin in the Mortlock's denotes 
the Morinda citrifolia (Samoan Nonu, Gilberts Non, Malay 
Nona, Uluthi Lol.) 


Ngi (Metrosideros). A littoral shrub, eight to ten 
feet in height, with very hard but brittle wood, minute 
leaves, and small delicate flowers like those of a myrtle. 
It grows in great abundance on the small islands out in 
the lagoon, rooting itself firmly in between the blocks of 
coral, its roots washed by the salt water. It bears tiny 
capsules containing minute dark seeds resembling those of 
the tobacco-plant. When empty they resemble the bell of 
a lily-of-the-valley. Decoction of bark a native cure for 


dysentery. {Cf Pelew Islands, Ngis ; Lamotrek, Gaingi ; 
Pulavvat and Satawal, Aingi.) 

Ngiungiu. The Yap name for a climbing fern {Lygodium 

Ngkau. A common bush-weed both on mainland and 
coral islets in the lagoon. It bears small yellow flowers, 
like a marguerite or Michaelmas daisy. Leaves heart- 
shaped, serrated at edges, yielding when crushed a rank 
and powerful odour. The pounded leaves or a decoction 
of them are a valuable application to sores and ulcerated 

Och. A species of sago-palm {Metroxylon amicarmri). 
Habitat, the swampy lowlands and the neighbourhood of 
rivers ; the Ota of the Banks Group ; the Os or Rapun of 
Ruk and the Mortlocks. It produces large black, round 
fruits, with a scaly pericarp, which gives them considerable 
powers of flotation. The kernels are very hard, and ex- 
ported to Germany for button-making. They are an 
effective substitute for the ivory-nut or vegetable ivory of 
South America. Hence the Spanish call the tree Palma 
de Marfil or Ivory-palm. The Ponapeans do not make 
sago from it, like their Melanesian neighbours to the 
south and south-east. 

Oio. The Chokach and Metalanim name for the 
Banyan tree. 

Oliol. A bush-plant. Decoction of leaves good lotion 
for wounds and cuts. 

Olot. Species of sea-grass, with patches of which the 
mud-flats appear studded at low tide. 

Ong. The wild ginger, of which there are several sorts. 
{Cf Pampanga, Ango, Curcuma ; Samoan, Ango, Turmeric ; 
Javanese, Wong, gamboge. (Perhaps connected are the 
Chinese words Hoang, Wong, denoting a red, yellow, or 
orange colour.) 

Ong-en-Pele. A choice kind. 


Ong-en-P ele-en- Uai, i.e. Peles ginger from abroad. The 
ginger plant of commerce (introduced). 

Or. Bush-weed. Decoction drunk to cure sore throat 
and low fever. 

Oramai. Species of Ramie or Kleinhovia. Fibres of 
bark anciently used in making fish-nets. The Lafai of 
the Solomon Islands (Guppy). 

Ot, Wot. The Giant Taro (Arum costatum). In 
Kusaie, Wos. Called in Central Carolines Pulak or Purak. 
(In Solomon Island an Arum is called Kuraka.) (With 
Wot, Wos, cf. Samoan Vase, a species of taro.) N.B. — In 
the Polynesian area Puraka, Pulaka and Pulda denote 
various species of taro. 


Pat, Pai-Uet. Species of tree-fern. 

Par. Two sorts, Para-pein, the female ; and Para- 
man, the male. Bark of latter in decoction used by 
natives as a tonic. The Erythrina Indica — the Ngatae of 
Samoa, the Atae of Tahiti, the Netae of the Marquesas. 
In India it is called P ari-bhadra, the Par, or season 
coming round of the bhadra or fifth solar month, August, 
at which time the tree is covered with scarlet flowers. The 
Ponapeans divide their wet and dry seasons, which they 
also call Par, from the appearance of these brilliant blossoms. 
It is interesting to see the Asiatic name retained in this 
remote corner. (In Kusaie Pal also denotes a season.) 

Parram. The swamp-palm (Nipa fruticans), the 
Ballang of the Sulu Archipelago ; the Betram or Batram of 
Java. {Cf. Fijian Balabala, the Cycas Revoluta. Maori, 
Para, a fern. Marianne (P. to F.,R. to D.) FADAN,the Cycas 
Revoluta. Marquesan Pda-hei (i.q. Para-hei), a tree-fern. 
An island on the north coast of Ponape is named Parram, 
from the abundant growth of this palm on it. The 
strange-looking fluted seeds float for a long time in the 
water without injury. Hence one need not be surprised 
at the very wide distribution of this palm throughout the 


Micronesian and Melanesian area, carried by the ocean cur- 
rents. I did not notice the Parram either in Tahiti or the 
Marquesas. In the latter group however the fan-palm grew 
abundantly, especially upon HivaOa and Tahuata, a species 
that though found in the Solomon Group, unaccountably 
fails to present itself in ths Caroline Archipelago. 

Parri, Pearri. The generic name of the Bamboo 
(Bambusa). (N.B. — In Efatese, New Hebrides, Borai is 
the sugar-cane.) In the Favorlang dialect of Formosa, 
Borro is small cane or reed-grass. In Yap, Mor is the 
dwarf bamboo. In Kusaie the bamboo is called Alkasem, 
a word of doubtful derivation. In Hindustani, Baro is 
reed-grass ; and in Malagasy, Fari is the sugar-cane. In 
Nuku-Or, the bamboo is called Matira, which word in 
Maori denotes a. fishing-rod. The Ponapeans make flutes 
out of the smaller canes, using the larger ones to store 
up water in as the Marquesan islanders do. They also 
employ them as water-conduits (Kerriker). Hence the 
Ponapean verb Kerrikereti-pil, to bring down water from 
the hills for irrigation purposes by a line of bamboo pipes, 
end on end. 

Peapa, Peapea, Peepee. Varying dialect words for a forest 
tree with fine small leaves like those of a privet shrub. 
The wood is white, firm in grain. Used for boat-building. 

Peipei, Paipai-Ani, i.e. the Peipei of the Gods. 

Peipei, Paipai-Aramach, i.e. the Peipei of Mortals. 

Two beautiful ferns, closely resembling the umbrella- 
fern of New South Wales. The name is also applied to 
a species of Adiantum. Peipei is a poetical word, meaning 
long tresses of hair. 

Pelak. One of the gourd family, the fruits of which 
furnish the natives with their calabashes. 

Pena, Pona, Pana. The Thespesia populnea, a common 
littoral tree with a reddish-brown wood. The so-called 
rosewood of Polynesia. (Samoan, Milo ; Tahitian, Miro 
and Amae ; Marquesan, Mio.) In Kusaie, Pangapanga 
or Penga ; in Yap, Bonabeng ; in the Gilberts, Bengibeng. 


Perran, Paran. The Metalanim name for the orange, 
lime, or lemon-tree. 

Pinipin. One of the gourd family allied to the Pelak {q.v.). 

Poke (Pandanus inermis). Upon Lamotrek, Pogo. Bush 
variety — no aerial roots. 

Puek. The Puka or Pukatea of Polynesia. A species 
of tulip-tree. Wood soft and valueless. (Tongan, Buka, 
Hernandia peltata.) 

Pulok {Carapa Moluccensis). A tall, hard- wood tree, with 
curious curving flanges or buttresses. Habitat : the salt- 
marshes, where it occurs mingled with the Ak, Koto, Kawa, 
and Waingal. It bears a number of curious polygonal 
seeds, closely packed together in the pericarp like pieces 
in a puzzle. The seeds float, and, to judge from the wide 
distribution of the tree, drift long distances upon the 
ocean currents. A similar species is found in Africa, the 
kernel of which yields a useful oil. The wood of the Pulok 
is much used by native carpenters and boat-builders, especi- 
ally the curious ridges of its root-buttresses, which come in 
handy for the bends in fashioning the bows of a craft. 

Putoput. A shrub common on the low coral islands, 
recalling the Tou of Samoa (Sponia timoriensis). 

Pur. Flowers in general. In the U and Metalanim dis- 
tricts, Chair or Sair. (Javanese, Sari, a flower.) The Tree- 
gardenia is also called Pur or Chair ; in Yap, ANGAK. 


Ramak. The Mokil name of the Inot (Sctzvola Kcenigii). 

Rapun. The Mortlock name for the Och or sago-palm 

Rara. A species of Freycinetia. Leaves about a cubit 
long, fluted in the middle by a slightly serrated ridge. 

Rati/. A long fronded fern, also the giant fern. The 
Nase or Nahe of Polynesia {Angioptera erecta and Marattia 

Re, Rei. The varying tribal and local names for grass. 
Reirei (adj.) denotes a green colour. 

1 Cf. Pelew Islands, Ngas, a tree-fern. 


Re-chap, i.e., grass-rush or rush-grass ; a coarse grass. 
In decoction a vermifuge. 

Ro, Rirro, Rot. A small species of reed-grass, the stems 
of which are sometimes used for making the native flute. 


Taip. The Metalanim name for trees of the genus 
Pandanus in general. (Cf. Gilbert Islands, Taba, the 
flower of the Pandanus tree.) The bush variety is called 
Taip-en-wal, and the seaside species bearing large edible 
fruits — introduced from the Marshall Group — is called 
Taip-en-wai, i.e. the Pandanus from abroad. 

Talik. The Bird's-nest fern, resembling an English 
hart's-tongue, found on the sides of the stone-work of 
Nan-Tauach, and at the base of the branches of forest 
trees. The Talik-en-wal or Talik of the bush is a climbing 
species, forming most ornamental festoons amongst the 
nurseries of young trees upspringing in the undergrowth. 

Tikap. A species of mountain plantain. (In Samoa, 
Soa'a ; in Marquesan, Huetu ; in Tahitian, Fei.) Botanical 
name, Musa uranospatha, literally, the Musa (Arabic, 
Mawz\ with the spathe pointing heavenward. So called 
because the leaves of the plantain and its bunches of fruit 
point upwards, whilst the true banana, leaves and bunch, 
droops earthward ; vide Mr Grant Allen's excellent essay 
" De Banana." 

Ting. The Draccena terminalis. The TV, Ji or Ki of 
Polynesia ; the Ndili of the Banks Group ; the Ndong or 
Andong of Java. N.B. — In Samoa Tongotongo also de- 
notes a species of Draccena. 

Tip. The generic name for weeds, grasses, creepers, and 
undergrowth. {Cf. Polynesian Tupu, to grow ; spring up.) 

Tip-en-chalang. A minute and pretty species of sea- 
fan found amongst the patches of Olot upon the mud- 
flats at low tide. 

Tipop, Tupap, Tipap. The native almond (Terminalia 
catappa). Upon Kusaie, Sufaf. The Talie of Polynesia, 


the Salite of the Banks Group, the Talisai of the Philip- 
pines. Called in Solomon Group Saori (Guppy). 

Titin. Littoral shrub with soft downy leaves like those 
of a fox-glove. It bears small white flowers upon six or 
seven stalks, which grow into a cruciform branch, It is the 
Sisin of Mokil. (Tournefortia sarmentosa.) 

Tong. A tall buttressed forest tree. It has long lobed 
leaves and small seeds. The wood is of a dark reddish 
brown, hard and excellent for boat-building. The natives 
also use it for making their Kachak or food-troughs, which 
answers to the Polynesian Umete or Kumete. Dr Pereiro 
declares it to be either Dipterocarpus mayapis or Diptero- 
carpus polispermus. It is found in the interior of Yap, 
where it is called Ramilu. 

Tupuk, Tupok. A tree found on the mainland and also 
upon the coral islets in the lagoon. It grows from ten to 
twenty feet in height and bears umbels of greenish-white 
flowers, and clusters of dark berries, very much like those 
of our elder tree, which in scent they strongly resemble. 
The pounded bark is good as an external application to 
obstinate sores and slowly healing wounds. The wood 
was anciently used for making fire by friction, and also 
was employed in the manufacture of the Aip or native 
drum. In the Pelews it is called KOSOM, and is a sacred 
tree. Upon Yap Ar. In the Mariannes ARGAU. In 
Bisayan a species of Premna is ARGAO, in Tagal AGDAU 
and Alagao. 

U & W 

Waingal, Uaingal. (Lumnitsera sp.). A tall tree with 
small oblong leaves, notched at tip, bearing small crimson 
flowers and roundish flattened seeds. Wood reddish-brown, 
very hard and durable, used in house-building, and for 
making keels, masts, and gunwales of boats. Habitat, the 
salt marshes at the back of the mangrove-belt where it is 
found side by side with the Koto, Kawa, and Pulok. 

Want a/, Uantal (Ipomea pes-caprae). A sea - side 


creeper, bearing round black flattish seeds like broad 
beans, and pinkish purple flowers. 

Uch, C/ich, Uch-en-ant. Species of rush (Samoan Utu, id). 

Weipul, Wompul, Uvipul. The morinda citrifolia (Lit. 
Flame tree, so called from the bright yellow dye ex- 
tracted from its roots and wood). The Nonu of Polynesia, 
the Wong-kudu of Java, and the Tumbung-aso of the 

Wet, Wot, Ot. The Giant Taro. In Kusaie Wos. 
Cf Samoan Vase, a species of taro. 

Ui, Wi. The Barringtonia specioso and racemosa. 
Habitat, coastline of mainland and small islands. A 
species growing in the bush is called Wi-en-mar, or the 
Wi of the bush clearings. N.B. — In Samoan Vi is the 
Spondias dulcis. 

Ulunga-en-Kieil. " The pillow of the Kieil lizard" 
(Scincus). The parsley-fern found growing in tufts upon 
the flower-pot-shaped, limestone islets in the lagoon, also 
upon the trunks of coconut palms. 

Up. A creeper resembling our Wistaria, the pounded 
roots of which are used for stupefying fish. Yap Yub. 
In Malaysia Tuba. Compare Kusaie Op. 

Ut. The name for bananas in general. {Cf. Fijian 
Vundi, Samoan Futi, Ellice Group Futi, Nuku-Oro 
Huti, etc. etc.) 

Varieties : — 

Ut-en-wai. The Foreign or China banana with 
speckled skin. 

Ut-iak. Small, deep yellow flesh. 

Ut-en- Yap, or Yap banana, a choice species of plantain, 
pink flesh, very delicate in flavour, and the portion of the 
priests and high chiefs at a festival. 

Other varieties : — Karrat, Mangat, Tikop, q. v. 

(d) supplementary yap plant and tree-names 

Ari-fath., Uatol. Sp. Barringtonia. 
Ir-nim, Aral. Species of plantain. 


Raual. The Kangit of Ponape. Huge spherical fruit 
filled with delicious creamy pulp, enclosing large roundish 
seeds which when grated up and mixed with coconut 
shavings have a remarkable narcotic effect on foods. 

Gurgur. The native name for Citrus fruits in general. 

Gurgur-nu-ap is the orange. 

Gurgur-morrets, the lime. 

Lur. A weed growing on side of causeways in swampy 

Olomar. The sweet basil (Ponape Katereng). 

Langil, Thlangil. A variety of wild kava, the Avaava- 
aitu, or Kavakava-atua of south-west Polynesia. 

Wote, Ote. Sp. wild fig, bearing small reddish rough 
fruits on its trunk like Eugenia. 

Rtep. A sort of orchid climbing on trunks of coco- 

Rumig. A Callophyllum with pear-shaped fruits. 
The variety with round seeds is known as Bioutch. 
In Tagal Bitao. Fetao is the Yap name for the yellowish 
waxy flower of the tree. 

Adid. Bush-tree. Long-ribbed leaves, smooth reddish 
bark, spherical rough-rinded reddish-brown fruit. The 
Ais of Ponape called Aset in the Mortlocks. 

Topolop, Talaboi. Sp. Tacca. The Mokomok of 
Central and East Carolines. The Mamago of Solomon 

Tenk, a shrub with rough leaves and intense blue 
flowers. The Mateu of Ponape. 

Ruai, Tugu. Species of mangrove. 

Rung, Voi. Sp. Native chestnut (Inocarpus Edulis). 
In the Mariannes, Ufa. In Polynesian, Ifi. In the 
Philippines, Dungun. 

Limuet. Creeping plant, small round leaves, good 
for burns. 

Yenuk, Pipi. The common rush. 

Uelem. The King Fern. 

Re : Lem. Two species of Sea-grass. 


Kana. Parasol fern. 

Thengibur. Sp. fern. 

Trath. Hart's-tongue fern. 

Likelike niu. Var. parsley fern growing on trunks 
of coco-palms. 

Kopokop. Polypody fern. 

Para-lol. Long-fronded fern. 

Lek, Gulugulni. Asplenium. 

Likilik-a-voi. Parsley fern, sp. 

Tulubuk, Tilibuk. Common male fern. 

Gumar. Acacia inermis. 

Golat. Sp. thorny Acacia. 

Maikitibum : Mangamang : Mong. The Giant Fern 
of the swampy districts. 

Talafat. Sp. grass. 

Rangaranga. Parsley fern growing in cracks of old 

Lobat, Talilra. A delicate species of Adiantum. 

Tamagateu. Large fern resembling Osmunda Re- 

Orotrol. Thespesia populnea. A littoral tree. 

Komai. Rice (introduced). 

Yams. Dok, wild yam ; Dok-nu-obachai, variety intro- 
duced from Eastern Carolines ; Bia, species brought from 
Ladrone Islands ; Dal, short, oval, like sweet potato ; 
Dol, wild yam, small round seeds growing at base of 
leaves, like Ponape Likam ; Fap y sp. sub-varieties, Gote-lap 
and Nanebo. 

Thau} The breadfruit. (Artocarpus Incisa.) 

Varieties: (1) Yao-lei ; (2) Yae-reb ; (3) Tagafei ; 
(4) Fanum ; (5) Pemathau ; (6) Yao-uat ; (7) Dapanapan, 
(Jackfruit — A. integrifolia) ; (8) Yeo-tui ; (9) Mai-nior ; 
(10) Luathar; ( 1 1 ) Pe-au; (12) Yoa-tathen; (13) Yu-goi ; 
(14) Yu-ngalu. 

Gotruk. The Croton shrub of which there are many 

1 Cf. Ural-Altaic, Tkav, Thavi, a head. N.B. — In Polynesian Ulu means 
both head and breadfruit. 


very ornamental varieties with which the village squares 
and roadsides are thickly planted. 

Irich, Rich, Rit. The Draccena terminalis, the Ki of 
Hawaii, the Ti of south-west Polynesia. 

Notes on the Coconut. Flower, Achabai. Small nut 
forming, Machal (Samoan Aili). Green drinking - nut, 
Tod, Tub {cf. Hindustani Dob). Kernel thickening, 
Manao. Kernel further developed, Agel. Fully deve- 
loped, ready for copra, Marau (Samoan Popd), Sprouting 
nut, Bui (Tahitian Uto). Old mouldy nut, Ap. Husk 
surrounding nut, Kapat, Ling. Coconut-toddy, Achif. 
Stalk of nuts, Uongoi. Copra, Fatuis-a- Marau. Trunk 
of a tree, Binal. 

Mor. The dwarf bamboo, probably introduced anciently 
from Japan. Planted thickly on top of the ancient em- 
bankments which overlook the paved roads running 
throughout the southern portion of the island. 

Tifif. A variety of Canna Indica, with bright orange 
berries. Found in the bush in the neighbourhood of the 
taro swamps inland. 

Waraburub. An ornamental fern (Japanese, Warabi). 

Parafai. A large tree fungus, dried and used in 

Gathemat. Sp. Cordia, sweet-scented white flower. 

Tingiting. Species of Taro, yellowish flowers. 

Butral. A scitamineous plant, with purplish mauve 
spikes of bloom, a sort of wild ginger. 

Ao. The banyan tree (Polynesian, Aoa). 

Tengauai. Cerbera Lactaria. The deadly Leva, Reva, 
or Eva of south-west Polynesia. 

Amaral. A heavily-seeded nettle found outside villages 
near rubbish heaps. 

Maluek. A variety of morinda citrifolia. 

Ugina-maluak. Species bearing long white umbels 
of flower. 

At. A pitcher-plant, found in vicinity of Tan-ne- 
Erouach on South Ramung. 


Giligil-wath. Littoral shrub. Leaves used as medi- 
cinal plaster in Samoa. 

Tarau. Meadow-grass. 

Pui-wol. The Pulok of Ponape ; a large hardwood 
tree, with curiously keeled roots and polygonal seeds 
(Carapa Moluccensis). 

Gogoth. Sp. Betel Pepper. {Cf. Pelew Islands, Kokuth, 

Gonek. Prickly shrub, edible, oval fruit, turning red 
when ripe. 

The Banana grows in great profusion. Fruit, Pan ; 
Tree, Denai. Varieties : (1) Yereim, long-fruited plantain ; 
(2) Tengere, yellow-fleshed plantain, roundish (Ponape, 
Karraf) ; (3) Boul, Voul, small banana; (4) Tafagef, 
China banana; (5) Fak-e-uel, small, round; (6) Yugo ; 
(7) Ganaeko ; (8) Daver ; (9) Malukier ; (10) Arai ; 
(11) Gutnoi ; (12) To-nu-Uap ; (13) Sakas, large yellow 

Mai. The Taro plant. Tingiting, Lak, big, yellow 
flower, grows in swamps ; Gtiiagui, sp. 

Faa. The wild Pandanus. 

Olowalogu. Bush-shrub. 

Uapof. The Paper Mulberry (Broussonettia Papy- 

Ramilu. Tree with huge long leaves (Ponape, Tong). 

Arr. Coarse seagrass. 

Tha, Thea. A common weed, with yellowish flowers 
and strong-scented, heart-shaped leaves, the juice of which 
is very healing to wounds and ulcers. Common on coral 
islets off Ponape coast, where it is called Ngkau. 

Otrafangal. Large convolvulus. 

Utel, Roi. Reed-grass (Samoan, Fiso). 

Laingen-en-lip-otol. Curious marsh weed ; soft, red, 
spongy caps or buttons on stem for flowers. 

Kurmkiir. Burr-bearing weed (Ponape, Koroni). 

Thagumut. Bush-shrub, leaf like coffee. 

Fauteir. A species of cycas ; same name sometimes 


applied to the Nipa palm occasionally found in the 

BA. The Areca Palm. In Pelew, Buok ; in Sanskrit, 
Piig ; in Ladrones, Pagua. 

Chongot. Tall, poison tree ; light bark, long leaves, like 
Ramilu. White acrid juice, producing terrible swellings 
and sores. 

Avetch. Curious shrub, leaf like that of Eugenia or 
Malay apple in shape. White leaf on end of each bunch 
of seed capsules, which resemble these of tobacco. Small 
golden yellow, star-shaped flower. 

Choi, Trot. The Pandanus. 

Fal. The Pandanus flower. (Ponape, Matakel ; 
Mariannes, Kafo ; Samoan, Singano ; Tahitian, Hinano. 

(e) ponapean fishes, insects, birds, and 


Fishes. Many of these appear in the splendid illustra- 
tions of Godeffroy's album of the South Seas. 

Ukair. A bright golden-yellow fish about a foot long. 
(The Tapereper of Mokil.) 

Kamaik. A species of Parrot-Wrass. The Butter- 
Fish of New Zealand. 

Kapai, Kipai. Small reddish-brown fish with dark 
spots. Head and tail project out of a most comical suit 
of defensive armour shaped exactly like the square gin- 
bottle of commerce (Ostraceon cubicus). 

Palat. Length about one foot. Longish nose. Body, 
light red. Head, salmon-pink. Tail and fins, dark red. 

Pako. The generic name for sharks (Polynesian Mako, 
Mango) called Charaui on the Ant Atoll, where the 
name Pako is tabooed. Panayan (south Philippines). 
Baguis. Solomon Islands Pagoa ; Marshall Islands 
Bako ; Polynesian Mako, id. ; Gilbert Island Bakoa. It 
is an Asiatic word, the Sea-Tiger. Indian Bag, Bagha, 
a tiger. 


Another shark-name is Tanapai. The Tiger-shark, 
popularly supposed to be deaf. The dreaded Tanifa of 
the Samoans, the Ndaniva of Fiji. Compare with this 
the Maori Taniwha, a water monster, or sea-devil. Malay 
Danawa a goblin, evil spirit. Sanskrit Danawa id. 
N.B. — One of the words borrowed by the Malays from 
the Sanskrit, and which has filtered through into Micro- 
nesia and Polynesia. Cognate are S. N. Guinea Dirawa, 
an evil spirit. Pelews Deleb, Thalib, a devil. 

A. The mullet. 

Karangat. The bonito. From Ranga — to rise up, so 
called from its rising to the surface in great shoals like the 
English herring. 

Ki. A Dolphin or porpoise. 

Rock. A whale. (Sometimes pronounced Rack). It 
means the King-Fish. The word also denotes a high 
chief {cf Malay and Hindustani Rajah), and perhaps 
Fijian Ratu a high chief. {Cf Kusaian Lat, a whale). 

Pup. The Leather Jacket. Silvery-white below ; fore- 
head bright blue ; tip of nose bright blue ; sides and back 
yellowish brown ; body striped blue and yellow. One 
long erect spine just behind shoulders. Habitat, holes 
in the reef and in floating logs of wood. 

Lioli. Large dark-blue species of Leather Jacket. A 
deep-water fish. 

Paikop. A fish with a remarkably flat face and thick 
body picked out in chevrons of white and dark olive- 
green. The people of Palang on the Chokach coast 
are jocularly styled by their neighbours of Kiti Macha-en- 
Paikop, Paikop-faces, from the prevailing type of features 

Mengar, Mdngar. The Flying-fish, also known as 

Mdngar. Large brown and white speckled fish with 
spiny dorsal fin. The Spaniards call it Garrofa. 

Ikan. Greenish body, brown dorsal fins. Front fins a 
fine golden-yellow. {Cf. Malay Ikan, fish in general.) 


Tak. The Gar-fish, which often leaps on board fishing 
canoes, and inflicts mortal wounds with its sharp lance. 

Uat. The Bladder-fish, so called from its frequently 
puffing itself up like a balloon. The Sue of Samoa, 
the Huehue-kava of the Marquesan Islands. Deadly 

Pulak. Large, roundish, dark green body. Flesh 
firm like a halibut's. 

Pulak-tol. A remarkably handsome brown fish with 
black and white spiny dorsal fins, two yellow spiny 
pectoral fins and a continuous row of orange, black and 
white ventral fins. 

Chara. A pinkish-red fish, small body, large flat 
head. Row of spines along back. Minute teeth sharp 
as needles. 

Litak. The Climbing-fish, to be seen hopping and 
crawling in numbers upon the rocks and stones on the 
sea-shore. Colour — light green, speckled dark brown. 

Toik. Small red fish. 

Potarar. Small black and white handed fish. 

Mamo-tik. The beautiful little cobalt and orange fish 
seen playing in and out of the forests of coral in the 
pools and on the edge of the deep water. Called in 
Nuku-Oro Mamo-riki, and in Tahiti Mamo. Also known 
in Ponape as Ta-kap-en-taok. All these three are fond of 
the pools left in the reef at low tide. 

Uakap. Lower part of body steel blue, upper part 
dark blue ; black and yellow stripes. 

Kir. Bright crimson fish about I \ feet long. Spiny 
row of back fins. 

Korikor. A beautiful fish about \\ feet long, marked 
throughout with white and brown lozenges (<£>), a band 
of similar pattern but minute design running round the 
body. Fins and tail dark brown. 

Chaok, Chauk. Small fish, brown body, speckled 

Marrer, Merra. Large, dull, blue fish ; flesh rather 


soft and woolly. Excellent pickled raw with salt water, 
Chili pepper, and lime-juice. 

Li-er - puater (Chcetodon sp.). Length five to six 
inches, circular body. Large dark brown anal fin, white 
band round back, surmounted by a ridge of seven small 
yellowish spines. The far dorsal fin is edged with rich 
orange. Tail light, greenish-blue, sparsely tipped with 
orange ; thorax deep orange. Slight tinge of orange 
along belly. Lower part of face up to the eyes deep 
orange. Thin nose, projecting some f inch, orange. 
Slightly projecting lower jaw. Rest of body light pale 
green, streaked with wavy lines of alternating light blue 
and darker green from back of gills to tail. Mean thick- 
ness of body four inches. N.B. — Another closely related 
fish of the same name has tail, anal, and dorsal fins 
banded black and orange. Perpendicular black stripe 
down face. Nose and thorax white. 

Lipar. A flat fish, reddish-brown above. Meaning of 
name, Red Woman. Flesh full of small, crooked bones. 
Of little esteem for food. 


Two species of Sand-piper are found on the coasts, the 
smaller called Kulu, the larger Chakir. The former is the 
Tuli of Nuku-Oro and Samoa, the Dulili or Tulili of the 
Mariannes ; cf. the Indian Dulika, a wag-tail. The Kulu 
is known in the Pelews as Goto, in Yap as Ruling, in 
the Marshalls and Mokil as Rolech, and elsewhere in the 
Carolines as Ruling, Rulung, or Rilung. The Malay Chor- 
ling may be cognate. In South America we find very 
strange coincidences — Ouichuan, Chulla ; Araucanian, 
Chili, Thili, id.; whilst in Aymara Rullu means a partridge. 

The Ponapean name of the larger variety (Chakir) is 
paralleled by the Hindustani Chakor (Tetrad) ; by the 
Japanese Shako, a partridge ; and by the Quichuan 
Tsakua, a partridge. 


The most exacting philological critic cannot deny that 
these far-reaching coincidences are very curious. Many 
will probably argue that most bird-names are onomatopoeic, 
i.e., imitation sounds, and that the human machinery of 
speech being cast in a somewhat limited mould, would 
everywhere produce independently the same or similar 
results, even amongst remote tribes which have had 
absolutely no connection with one another. However, 
when we reach the animal, or, at all events, the tree-names, 
we shall find ourselves upon somewhat less debatable 
ground, and these will afford clearer evidence as to the 
separate waves of population rolling outwards from 
Indonesia to the farthest isles of the Pacific, up to the 
very shores of the great continent on the further side. 

Akiak, Kake. Varieties of white gull. The latter 
builds no nest, but lays its eggs in the small brush growing 
on top of the flower-pot-shaped masses of Takai-Mai or 
coral limestone which stud the shallow water off the low 
island beaches. From this habit the observant Ponapeans 
have deduced a slang word — Pon-Kake, i.e. like the Kake, 
to denote any useless, idle, lazy fellow. 

There is a large grey gull which they call Karakar. 

A brown tern with a white head (Parrat) is found on 
the coral islets of the coast. It makes its nests in the 
tops of the Barringtonia trees. Its young make very 
good food, albeit a trifle fishy in taste. 

Another sea-bird, black and white with two long tail- 
feathers, is called Chik (Phaethon). 

There are three sorts of heron, called by the generic 
name of Kau-alik. The first is the Matuku or Matuu, the 
common blue heron of Polynesia ; the second is the Otuu 
or Kotuku, the white heron, a much less common species ; 
the third is the speckled heron, doubtless a cross of the 
above two. The Kau-alik is jocularly styled in Tahiti 
and the Marquesas as Frenchman's turkey from the skill 
with which some of their colonial cooks will disguise his 
fishy flavour. 



Cherret. A reddish-brown parrakeet peculiar to the 
island (Eos rubiginosa). Cf. Maori, Toreta. The New 
Zealand parrakeet. The old name of the Cherret was 
Terrep-e-icho or King Terrep. Cf Maori Tarepa, a 
species of bush parrakeet. 

Li-maaliel-en-takai. A little brown bird inhabiting the 
bush. Its name means Woman-giddy-at-stone. The 
natives say that when a stone is thrown near it, it falls 
down dizzy. 

Murroi. Large grey dove. The Lupe or Rupe of 
South Polynesia. 

Kingking. Small green dove, maroon crest on head, 
breast maroon (Ptilnopus Ponapensis). Cf. Mariannes 
Kunao, a green dove. 

Kinuet. Variety of above, but with cream and maroon 
markings (Samoan Manumd). 

Paluch. Small dark violet brown pigeon, white breast 
— a ground pigeon. Peculiar to Ponape. Scientific name 
Phlegcenas Kubaryi from J. S. Kubary of the Godeffroy 
Firm in Germany who first made it known to science. 
Habitat, high up on the densely wooded mountain slopes ; 
shy and wild. The Ponapeans have used an ancient 
generic Malay name to denote a single species. 

Compare the following curious and interesting cog- 
nates which certainly cannot be mere coincidences ; i.e. 
German New Guinea coast, an area thickly scattered with 
Malay words : Palussia, Balus, Balusi, Barussi, Beli, all 
meaning dove or pigeon. 

Bismarck Archipelago — Palus, IValus, Balus. 

Pelew Islands — Bulohol, Pelokol. 

Tagala (Philippines) — Balos, Balod. 

Sulu Archipelago — Baud. (Sulu drops medial L.) 

Solomon Islatids — Baolo. 

Malay — Balam. 

Hindustani — Palka, Parewa, Parawat. 


Latin — Palumbes (whence Spanish Palomd) and 
Columba (P. to K.). 

The above show as well the exceedingly wide distribu- 
tion of the bird. This is only one of many instances out 
of the Micronesian and Polynesian to show how tenaciously 
the early Asiatic and Indonesian names of birds and 
plants have been preserved in the wanderings of this race 
over the great waste of waters. 

Cheok. A sort of blackbird ; a sacred bird in Ponape. 

Puliet (Myzomela rubrata). A red-breasted honey- 
eater, to be seen hovering round the coco-palm spathes, 
from which he draws his food. 

Kutar, Tirou. Varieties of the king-fisher (Alcedo). 
With Kutar compare Maori Kotare, the New Zealand 
king-fisher ; Tahitian Otare, a king-fisher. In Futuna the 
bird is called Tikotala ; in Samoan, Ti'otala ; in Tongan, 

Possibly in the last three the T or S represents the 
unconscious article, so frequent in the Gilbert group. 

Koekoe, Kuikui. Small, blackish-brown bird ; fly- 
catcher (Myagra pluto). 

Li-kapichir, Li-kaperai. Small cuckoo. Small bird, 
long tail ; dark colour (Endynamis Taitiensis). 

Li-mati. Small green bird, found in coconut groves. 
Resembles the Samoan lao, but smaller. 

Li-porok. Night bird ; black and white. Habitat, 
mangrove swamps. 

Li-kat-e-pupu. The name of several kinds of little bush 
birds. Breast red, plumage green, wings and tail dark 
green. Speckled black, white and blue, or white, yellow 
and blue, or black, red and blue. 

Lukot, Likot. The native owl. (The Pueo of Hawaii, 
the Utak of the Mariannes.) Dr Gulick in his Ponapean 
dictionary gives TEIAP, possibly an older word preserved 
in some of the districts as late as 1870, the date of his 
visit. For those who love imitative sounds I subjoin the 
following equivalents : — 


An owl is called Lulu in Samoa ; it is the Kasuk of 
the Pelews ; the Zuku or Kizu of Japan ; Timor, Kaku, 
Lakuko ; Indian, Ulu, Uluk, Ghughi'i, Kuchkuchua. 

The South American names have also a pleasing sound : 
Quichuan, Chusek, Chaksa, Pakpaka and Tuku ; Aymara, 
Choseka and Huku ; and the Araucanian on the south 
border of Chili has Nuku. 


Lang, Long. The Rango or Lango of the south Pacific. 
The common fly which simply swarms around the huts 
and cook-houses. 

Em-en-ual is the sand-fly, not half so troublesome as 
his relation in the North Marquesas. 

Amu-che\ Emu-che, Omu-che. The dialect words for the 
ever-present mosquito, the Namukik of the Mortlocks, the 
Namu of Polynesia, the Nyamok of Malaysia, the Yamuk 
of Pampanga (Luzon). 

Kat-el-lang, Kiti-el-lang. Lady of the sky or Dog of 
heaven are the quaint native titles of the Looper cater- 

The general term for grubs, small caterpillars, or 
maggots is Mach, Maach, Muach or Much, without doubt 
akin to the Japanese word Mushz, generic term for 
worms and insects. 

Some caterpillars are called Mueti, likewise a small 
reddish-brown horse-leech, found in great numbers in the 
bush after rain, and actually applied to the eyes by the 
natives in cases of ophthalmia. 

The common earthworm is called Kamotal, sometimes 

A flat spiral landshell is called Chepei-en-Kamotal, the 
dish or wash-bowl of the earthworm. Drs Finsch and 
Kubary discovered several curious endemic species. The 
dense hanging woods of Ponape, with their very consider- 
able height above sea-level, will no doubt yield a fresh 
curious harvest to the energetic explorer devoted to this 
branch of natural history. 



The large black ant, the bull-dog ant of Australia, is 
called Kakalich, a large dark brown one Loi-poro, and the 
small red ant Kat. 


Li-karrak, Li-n-karrak. Woman of Corruption is the 
word applied to troublesome insects of the bug and flea 

Til (Ngatik Thil). Applied to creatures of similar type 
affecting the head. Caucasian dialects, Til, Till, and Thil. 
(Indian, Dhil ; Araucanian, Thin?) 

Solomon Islands Tel, Sonsorol Tir id. 


The old word was Kari. 

Kul is the term applied to the black-beetle of commerce. 
They have a water-beetle, fancifully called in the Central 
Carolines " the turtle of the fresh water" and several dull- 
hued bush-beetles. The sand-hopper is called Men-en-pik, 
i.e., the creature of the sand. 


I noticed three sorts, one large and black {Likan), the 
other two small and speckled, called Chilapani-im and 
Naluk, the latter also a chiefs title. The web is called 
dialing- likan or Sal-ing-likan (Hindu, fhdl). 

A small red and black dragon-fly is common, which 
they call Man-en-kalip, the creature of the pools. 

There are at least three sorts of butterflies : one red, 
white and black, one sulphur-yellow, and one small blue. 
There are numerous moths, amongst them the Sphinx. 
The generic name for all these is Li-parruru or the 
Fluttering Lady. 

The cicala or cicada {Tenter) is very much in evidence 
in the groves on moonlight nights. Grasshoppers are 
found, to which they give the name Man-cheok. 


The name Tenter is applied also to any noisy, blustering 
person, to chattering busy-bodies, and carriers of tales and 
idle gossips. 

In a chant on Paniau we find allusion to the habits of 
this insect in approved Kalevala metre : — 

" Tititik melakaka-n-tenter 

Nin chounopong chenchereti." 

" Shrills the chirp of the cicala 

Thrilling through the silvery moonlight." 


A small sandy-hued scorpion is found, but its sting, 
unlike those of Java, Sumatra, and Timor, is not very 
venomous. The natives term it Iki-mang or Ikimuang, 
i.e., Fork-tail or Branch-tail, with their minute insight into 
small things. In Samoa upon Manu'a the centipede or 
scorpion is called I'UMANGA, word for word the same 
name as the Ponapean. The Upolu word is Mongamonga- 
iu-manga — the prefix denoting Beetle or Insect. 


Two or three kinds of centipedes (Scolopendra) are 
not uncommon in the thatch and under the tet or floorings 
of reed-grass in the huts, especially those of old standing. 
The old Malay name Alipan (Formosan Arripas) has been 
dropped — doubtless by some priestly or chiefly taboo, like 
the Te-pi custom of Tahiti. There are two ceremonious 
names for the creature which go to strengthen the impres- 
sion. Throughout the central Carolines the custom holds 
also. By day they call it Man-en-ran — the Creature of the 
Day. By night they call it Man-en-pong — the Creature of 
the Night. If this rule were neglected the careless person 
would be in danger of a nip from one of these crawling 
horrors. Similarly the earwig is called in Samoan Monga- 
monga-iao or The Beetle of the Day. The centipede's bite 
is often distressingly painful, though it is not so common 
here as in Indonesia, and the natives give it a wide berth. 

The people of Ruk call it Kutu-mal or mischievous 


insect, and the Samoans to the south Atua-loa or the long 
devil, for which relic of heathenry the missionaries have 
substituted Manu-loa or long insect. (It is the Saligo of the 
Mariannes, the Lalian of Timor,the Nina-kuru ox fiery worm 
of Peru.) 


Kieil The skink (Scincus) called Kiuen in Ruk and Gual 
or Kue I in central Carolines. Cf. Indian Ghariyal, Gavial, 
the crocodile of the Ganges ; cf. Motu, Uala, a crocodile. 
The Kieil is a large black lizard with red spots, slightly- 
yellowish below, and resembles a miniature alligator. The 
alligator itself they call Kieil-alap or Kiel-en-pil, of the 
arrival of which the natives have some tradition. Kubary 
brought a couple of young alligators with him to Mpompo, 
near the European colony, and for some reason or other 
let them loose in the Pillapenchakola River. One of my 
specimens of these " Kieil" as if foreseeing the alcohol 
bottle, furiously resisted capture, and when hit with a stick 
fastened to it like a bull-dog. The Kieil lives in holes in 
the ground, much preferring the sites of old burying 
places. The natives say he feeds on the bodies of the 
dead, which is very possible. They call him Chaot or 
" unclean," and view him with dislike and dread as 
Likamichik or " uncanny." A strange fact about this 
lizard is that he has established a regular colony on the 
low coral island of Paniau in Mutok harbour, right off 
the mouth of the Kiti river, a good two miles from shore, 
whereas on land he is not so easily seen, generally 
preferring the thick bush. On Paniau at first they were 
very bold, and would crawl close up to us at our meals 
and eat bits of meat thrown to them, to the great horror 
of the natives. But the speedy disappearance of some 
of the largest and boldest of these intruders soon made 
them keep their distance. 

There is a brownish-black house-lizard with a flattish nose 
which the natives call Lamuar* All night long one might 

* [Lipidodactylus lugubris.] 


hear them hissing and tchik-tchiking away in the thatch 
overhead, but they are perfectly harmless, nobody minds 
them. The same name is also incorrectly given to two small 
species ornamented with a double row of black and white 
circular spots down the sides like the eyes on the wings of a 
peacock-butterfly. Both are only three inches in length ; 
one dark green, the other light green with faint yellow mark- 
ings. (The accurate names are Li-pa-irer or the Speckled 
Lady and Li-menimen-en-cherri or the Lady who loves little 
children, a pretty and poetical idea.) N.B. — The former is a 
curious endemic species (Perocheirus articulatus) and has 
only four fingers, and the thumb shrunk down to a tiny knob. 

There are two slightly differing green and yellow lizards 
found around the trunks of the coco-palms which they 
nimbly dart up at the least alarm, called the Li-teitei-paini 
or Woman rout about or stir up coconut lea/and Nan-chelang; 
the latter much larger and of more brilliant colouring. 

The commonest of all however is the little green lizard 
with a tail of bright electric blue, so widely distributed 
over the Pacific area, occurring in the Philippines, Moluccas, 
New Guinea, Solomon Islands and the Pelews, and even 
as far south as Samoa and Rarotonga. 

Dr Cabeza speaks of a lizard of considerable length 
which he declares to be the Varanus, known in Yap and 
the Philippines. 

The large green and yellow iguana of Yap I did not 
meet with here, but the Ponapeans tell of a longish 
prickly green lizard which may be akin, found on the Och 
or ivory-palm. They call it Man-tau-och or Animal go up 
ivory-palm tree, also Man-kalanga or the climbing animal. 
Connected with this creature they have an old super- 
stition that anyone who meddles with it will presently be 
seized with dizziness and fall out of the top — no very 
pleasant prospect, as the ivory or Sago-palm runs up from 
forty to fifty feet. 

Dr Cabeza gives three species of the Lygosoma in scientific 
form, L. mivartioc ; L. atrocostatum ; and L. abofasciolatum. 


Dr Cabeza goes on to say that during his stay he saw 
no frogs or toads, but mentions the interesting fact that a 
species of horned toad (Cornufer corrugatus) is found in 
the Pelews, 1300 miles distant. He deals in a single 
sentence with snakes, almost as badly as the historian 
with the snakes of Iceland. " There are no land-snakes, 
but some are seen in the sea." 

I saw no snakes in Ponape, but I did meet with a 
specimen of a large pugnacious green eel. The natives 
called it Macho to distinguish it from the common river- 
eel. The macho is amphibious and has its habitation in 
the salt-water marshes behind the mangrove belts, where 
it lives on the purple and brown crabs (machat) crawling 
on the tree-trunks, up which it writhes itself and coils in 
the branches waiting for its prey. When I was in Paniau a 
woman in the Matup district was bitten by one of them and 
died in less than two days, probably from the shock ; the 
natives said from its venom. The natives fear it greatly, 
saying that the fierce creature is the incarnation of the spirit 
of a wicked and cruel chief who murdered his wife and 
children, and was chased into the swamp by the avengers 
and put to death. A specimen was obtained with great diffi- 
culty by Kaneke and Nanchom. It was a yard in length, 
body about the thickness of one's thumb, dark green in 
colour, the two long projecting fangs much in evidence. 

With the Ponapean name Macho, compare Japanese 
Mushi, a worm ; Marshall Island Moch, a sea-eel ; 
Central Carolines Mas, Mat, a worm ; Gilbert Island 
Mata, a worm ; Formosa Matkad, a sea-eel. 

All the following mean snake or serpent : German New 
Guinea Mot, Mat, Matsch ; Bismarck Archipelago Mote ; 
Louisade Archipelago Mata ; British New Guinea Mota, 
Mata, Ma; New Hebrides Mata, Mwata ; Malo Moata ; 
Santo Mata. In Kusaian, Mwat is a worm and Moet, 

There are two sorts of sea-snakes (Pelamis bicoler), both 
called Na-llupu-loi-loi or Nan-li-puloiloi, i.e., Lady madam 


with parti-coloured bands} One is banded black and white, 
and one black and yellow. Habitat, the beds of olot or 
sea-grass when the tide is out. 

Fresh-water Eels 

These abound in the creeks and rivers, especially in the 
deeper pools, and sometimes attain great length and thick- 
ness. The natives hold them in mortal dread, and call 
them Kamichik, that is Terrible. Nothing will induce the 
Ponapeans to eat their flesh. The old name, now dropped 
out of use by the taboo, is said to have been It (Pan- 
gasinan Igat). They will sometimes unexpectedly attack 
people fording the rivers, inflicting very severe bites. Mr 
C. F. Wood who visited the Kiti and Metalanim coast in 
his yacht about 1870 speaks feelingly of the horror he 
felt of these creatures whilst bathing in the creeks. Far 
up in the Kiti highlands on a tableland some 3000 feet 
above the sea is reported to be an extensive lake filled 
with these creatures, like the Tahitian lake Vaihiria and 
the Samoan Lanu-toa. Tuna is the name given to the 
eels in the high basaltic islands of Polynesia (Kusaian 
Ton), either from their dark colour (Micr. Ton, dark ; 
Mangarevan Tunatuna, black, brown ; Skt. Tarn, Tan), 
or derived from an old Aryan and Semitic root Tan, to 
stretch. (Cf. Hebrew Tannin, a water-snake, sea-monster.) 
The Mortlock islanders call the eel Tiki-tol, and use it for 
the equivalent of the Serpent in the Garden of Eden. To 
express the same zoomorphic notion of the Devil the 
Tahitians have the inimitable phrase, " Moo-rahi-avae-ore, 
i.e., " The long lizard without paws," or as the French 
have it, " Longue le'zard sans pattes." 

It is very remarkable the horror in which Micronesians 
and Polynesians alike hold lizards and eels, and it certainly 
seems to point to a traditional recollection of the croco- 
diles and venomous serpents they left behind them in the 
great rivers and jungles of Asia and the larger islands of 
1 In Samoan Pideilei denotes a necklace of beads strung in alternate colours. 


Indonesia. What proves this so strongly is the fact that 
crocodile and snake names in New Guinea in many in- 
stances coincide with lizard and eel designations current 
in the dialects embracing all the isles of the Pacific. 


First and foremost is that noble animal the pig {Puik), 
the Puaka or Puaa of south Polynesia. There are two 
varieties, one long and thin flanked with a long snout 
like a greyhound, known to the Australian farmers as 
Pangoflin ; the other with a short snout and serenely- 
swelling barrel, descended either from the sort introduced 
by traders and settlers in the last century, or from stray 
parents deposited in more remote times by Chinese or 
Japanese trading-junks. The names Puik and Puaka are 
certainly the Thibetan Phuag or Phak with which the 
Latin Porcus is a cognate. Even with the Melanesians 
who represent the early Dravidian element in these seas, 
the syllable Bu, Bo, or Ba underlies their names for pig ; 
the Malay word Babi is one of these primitive forms. 
In a few of the central Carolines we find the word Seilo 
or Silo (Javanese Chileng, a pig), which certainly points 
to the advent of a Javanese prau. In the Paliker district 
the pig is called Man-teitei, or the animal that grubs in 
the soil ; the name Puik being tabooed in the district on 
the death of Lap-en-Paliker's father who bore that name. 
This is a living instance showing how under our very 
eyes old words are dropping out of use in these isolated 
dialects and new ones taking their place, and yet folk 
thoughtlessly ask, " Why are not all the words in 
Pacific tongues clearly traceable to India ? " To this the 
above is partly a reply. In the next place we have not 
got all or anything like all the Asiatic dialects properly 
set down so as to form reliable tables of comparison. 
Moreover there are a good many dialects in Indonesia 
and in New Guinea, and certainly a few in the central 
Carolines yet unchronicled, which if set down would 


add their quota to the continually increasing number 
already established and brought together. Anyone 
who has seriously studied the gradual building up of 
the English tongue from Early Saxon, Norse, Danish, 
and Latin elements will readily see that tracing the 
influence of the rapidly succeeding waves of varying 
stocks is an intricate rather than an impossible task, as 
some philologists have somewhat supinely been content 
to call it. In the last place, most Micronesian and Poly- 
nesian words are very clearly traceable from Asia, though 
from long isolation they have been greatly planed, chipped, 
attenuated, and whittled down. A great deal of the rough 
material out of which the Aryan languages were developed 
doubtless entered into the composition of the Oceanic 
tongues which are classified as Melanesian, Micronesian, 
and Polynesian. Many such common words occur in the 
languages of the hill-tribes of India, and in the elaborate 
and probably much later Sanskrit. A more exhaustive 
study of Micronesian tongues will yield facts enough to 
prove occasional intrusions of Mongol and later Malay, 
which latter tongue in vocabulary may well lay claim to 
possess many Sanskritic affinities. 

The next domestic animal is man's faithful friend the 
dog, Kiti {Cf. Indian hill-tribes' dialect — Kiranti Kochu, 
Karwa Kuttu, Mundari Kota, Savara Kinchoi id.). Cf. Hin- 
dustani Kutta, Sulu Archipelago Kitu, Araucanian Kiltho. 

The dog is not only valued as a custodian, but for 
supplying a delicate dish in time of need, especially in the 
tribe of Metalanim. King Paul, unless report belies him, 
is particularly fond of the tongue, liver, and entrails, which 
are always set apart for His Majesty at high feasts. 

The native dogs are ordinarily of a dull brownish 
yellow, the tint of an old copper coin. Their nature is 
stealthy, sneaking and thievish. They are kept on very 
short commons, which is thought to increase their vigilance. 
Many of them — by nature, not art — are entirely lacking 
in a caudal appendage, which gives the poor wretches a 


very comical appearance. The unfortunate animal marked 
out for the feast is either beaten to death with sticks, or 
seized by the hind legs and its brains dashed out against 
the nearest stone. Unlike the Japanese the Ponapeans 
seem to have no consideration for animals. So that the 
Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals is likely to 
have its hands full for awhile if these islands should ever 
fall into the hands of John Bull or Brother Jonathan. 

Outside the Colony the sheep has not been introduced, 
though Narhun and the German trader at Chauenting 
keep a few, and the Ponapeans, like their Polynesian 
cousins, as a rule hate the taste of mutton whether fresh 
or preserved. Goats are found on Mutok (Tenedos) and 
on several places along the coast — introduced by early 
traders. The natives rather like their flesh, but view the 
animal with great disfavour for the havoc he makes with 
their breadfruit trees, ring-barking them as accurately as 
an Australian woodman clearing a eucalyptus forest. 

There is a singular word running throughout the Caro- 
line archipelago which shows that once upon a time their 
ancestors had a closer acquaintance with the above 
animals either in Malaysia or India. For the word for 
feathers or animals' hair all over the group is Un or Ul. 
(Compare Sanskrit Un, wool, fur, and Turkish Yun id). 

The domestic fowl Malek (cf central Caroline Maluk, 
Pelews Malk, Mariannes Manok, Malay Manuk, Peruvian 
Mallko, a chicken) is well represented in every settlement. 
Their plumage has a peculiar ruffled and bristly appear- 
ance. They are rather shy of approach and remarkably 
strong on the wing. The cock is called King (Peruvian 
Kanka), the hen Lu-tok or Li-tok, i.e. the Clucking female ; 
chickens are called Purrok, plural Purrongko, cf. Malay 
Burong, a bird. (Cf Peruvian Tokto, Maori Tikao-kao, 
Ruk Tukao.) Their eggs (Kutor) are small and not very 
easy to gather. Directly the cackle of a hen disturbs 
the air, the pigs and dogs are on the move through the 
brushwood to secure the precious egg. What they pass 


over the rats generally secure. Any chickens raised 
run so many risks in their infancy that it really is a 
wonder how so many come through with their lives. It 
is no uncommon thing in some quiet corner of a native 
hut to come across a mother hen sitting upon her eggs 
venting her displeasure by a crooning sort of twitter at 
the approach of a stranger. Fresh eggs are less esteemed 
than those which have been some time under wing. These 
the natives consider more savoury. Addled eggs from 
their delicious odour are called Puaich-en-uair, the inherit- 
ance of the bat ; and by the natives of Yap, Batai. 

Jungle fowl {Malik-en-ual) are to be met with on the 
mountain slopes. Adventurous young cockerels some- 
times descend into the valleys and engage in furious 
conflict with the chanticleers of the settlement, and find 
their way into the all-embracing ever-ready iron pot, for 
the watchful native, unlike the effeminate Manilla man, 
seldom throws away a shot, lead, powder and caps, being 
so scarce and dear. 

Kau (Ang. Cow) is the generic word for cattle. Henry 
Nanapei keeps a small herd in the Ronkiti valley. Like 
the Japanese, the natives do not particularly relish cow's 
milk. They fall eagerly however upon the condensed 
milk, whether the much advertised Nestle's or some less 
distinguished brand. It is all the same to them. It is 
sweet, and they like it. Beef, whether fresh or salt, lean 
or fat, tough or tender, I had nearly said cooked or un- 
cooked, is devoured with delight, forming a most welcome 
addition to their frugal fare of shell-fish, fish, and yams. 
There was a carabao or water-buffalo, imported from 
Manilla, employed in carting earth and stones in the 
colony at Santiago. He was of a vicious and surly dis- 
position, greatly admired by the natives for his enormous 
horns, with which he would upset any stranger who came 
near enough. 

The domestic cat is quite a household pet, and often 
enjoys a hearty meal of scraped coconut when the house- 
2 A 


dog goes hungry. Should he presume to actively remon- 
strate at this one-sided arrangement, he is either seized by 
the scruff of the neck and dropped out of doors, or kicked 
into a corner, where, lying supperless, head between paws, 
he views his hated rival feasting to repletion, growling to 
himself in a muffled undertone, never once taking his 
hungry, wistful eyes off the fast-vanishing provender — so 
near and yet so far. 

A kitten is called Kat-pul or Pusa-pul, " a green puss." 
The Malays for the same kitten would say Kuching-muda, 
or for a gosling Angsom-muda, exactly as in the English 
phrase, " a green gosling? 


Rokum, Rakum. Generic word for small crabs. 

Alimang. Large brown swimming crab, found amongst 
the roots on the edge of the mangrove swamps (Tagal, 
Alemang ; Samoan, Alimangd). 

Paru, Poru. A digging-crab that throws up little 
hillocks of sand on the shore. 

Karrach. A green rock-crab (Brachyurd). 

Omp. The coconut crab {Birgics latro or the Robber 
Crab). It is of large size, blue with red markings, and is 
furnished with enormous claws, with which it tears off 
the husks of coconuts and the tough pericarps of other 
oily and juicy fruits, and feasts on the kernels. 

Li-matal-en-iak. Small marsh-crab, speckled black 
and white or purple and white, with a disproportionately 
large red claw. 

Umpa. The Maka-ura of the Gilbert Islands. The 
hermit-crab, of which there are several varieties. 

Land, (i) Light green, found inside shells of sea- 

Sea. (2) Red and white, sometimes with golden 
splashes on claws, found in purplish or red 
and white shells. 


Sea. (3) Black and purple, claws tipped with red or 

yellow, found inside old broken shells. 
Land. (4) A dark blue sort, with red body and claws, 
resembling robber crab, wedges his body 
into old coconut shells or large sea-shells. 
Machat, Machaut. A purple and brown swamp-crab 
seen crawling over the dead timber and on the trunks of 
trees in the swamp and up the river. 

Chiwan, Kopuk. Marsh-crabs related to Machat. 


Urana. The lobster. {Cf. Malay Udang, a prawn ; 
Mortlock Ur, lobster.) 

Inchang (Hindu Inchna). Blue and white banded 
cray-fish found in holes on the mud-flats at low tide 
especially off Langar Island. 

Li-katap-en-chet (Squilla). A small sea - crayfish 
marked yellow, purple and white, no larger than a good 
sized prawn. 

Li-katap-en-pil (The Ulavai of Samoa). The fresh- 
water shrimp. The name means Useful Woman of the 
fresh water, which it indeed deserves as it is a capital 
addition to the Ponapean bill-of-fare, sometimes growing 
to a length of four or five inches. The women dip them 
out, the boys catch them with minute nooses on the 
end of sticks. 

Tapcp. Curious black and white or brown and white 
banded crayfish. The Tapapa of Futuna, the Tumal of 
Yap, the Thabethabe of Fiji. 

Tarrich. The timber-worm. Frequently mentioned 
by whaling captains in these seas, but never once with 

Lit. The generic name for sea-anemones. 

Ip. A curious slug-like creature of a light blue colour 
found adhering to the underside of limestone blocks on 
the reefs at low tide. Cf. Samoan Ipo, an edible mud- 
worm. On Yap, I nap. 


Li-ulul, Lidiil. Lady Pillow. A large blue starfish 
found on the sandy or coralline bottom of the shallow 
pools in the lagoon. Compare the Japanese term for the 
creature Tako-no-niakura, the Octopus' pillow. The 
Lamotrek folk call it Laul-a-garao or the Laul of the 
skies. The Ponapeans have a curious superstition about 
the Li-uhil that if taken out of water a heavy shower of 
rain will soon follow. Called on Ngatik Kich-el-lang, 
i.e., a little bit of the sky. There seems to be a hazy sort 
of connection in the native mind between the colour of the 
creature and that of the sky, upon which convenient peg 
some designing medicine-man or rain-maker hung his moral. 

There is another species of starfish brownish-red and 
spiny which they call Rar. 

Likant-en-Kap. Queen of the sea-bottom. The modern 
name for the sting-ray or skate-fish, of which there are 
several species in Pacific waters. The old tabooed 
name is given as Pae or Pai (Pingelap and Mokil ab- 
breviated form Pa, Pae), the Fai of the Mortlock Islands, 
the Hai-manu of Nuko-Oro (compare Polynesian Hai, 
Fai and What). In Yap Pai appears only in the com- 
pound word Pai-bok, the Bok or tail of the Pai. These 
are all abraded forms of an ancient Sanskrit word. The 
Tagala of the Philippines gives us Pagui, Pagi, with 
its usual change of G for Malayan R. {Cf. Layag for 
Layar, a sail; Niyog for Niyor, a coconut; Itlog, Telog for 
Telor, an egg.) The original form appears in Malay Ikon- 
Part, the Fairy Fish, from the Indian Pari, Peri, our 
Fairy. (In Sulu the skate is called Isda-palit). By some 
curious chance with us on the Atlantic side, the word has 
gone through exactly the same process as with our poor 
relations on the Pacific. Our collateral form for Fairy, 
Fay, has also lost the medial R. 

The names of three varieties were given me by 
Nanchau of Mutok. (i) Pae-pai-lik or skate-skale-little, a 
small sort, (2) Pata-lik or little-tail, and (3) Pai-wawa, the 
spotted variety known in Kusaie as Asasa. The Ray is fond 


of basking in the muddy shallows, and when trodden on by 
an incautious foot, it inflicts terrible wounds with the barb 
of its flexible tail. This the Ponapeans call Och (Poly- 
nesian Hoto, Foto, Oto). In the absence of iron the Caro- 
line islanders used these barbs as spear or arrow-heads, 
for which purpose they are eminently adapted. From the 
rest of the tail riding-whips are made of terrific cutting 
power. In Samoa the Foto or barb was frequently used 
for secret assassination. The old king Tamasese is re- 
ported to have met his death from unexpectedly rolling 
upon one of these wrapped up in his sleeping mats. A 
terse Samoan proverb thus runs : " Ua solo le fai, ua tuu 
ai le foto." " The ray runs off, but leaves her barb 

Til-en-Paran, i.e., the orange-coloured louse. A sort 
of limpet-like slug found sticking to the under part of 
limestone rocks in the shallow pools on the reef at low 
tide. Colour, white veined with dark red, with blotches 
or splashes of vivid yellow and scarlet. It is a Chiton, 
and I have seen a dull-coloured variety sticking to the 
sea-washed rocks on the coast of the north and south 
Marquesan Islands. 

Kick is the term for the octopus or squid, Li-puleio for 
the larger kind. With Kick compare Kusaian Koet, Mort- 
lock Kis, Mokil Kueit, Pulawat Kush, Lamotrek Kuich 
and Ngit, Nuku-oro Kueti, Marshall Islands Kweit, Fijian 
Kuita, Tagal Kugita, Malay Gorita, Ilocan Kurita, Mota 
Ugita, and Motu (Pt. Moresby) Urita. A line of very 
curious cognates, showing how rapidly the early Malay 
word gets attenuated as we get further and further east- 
ward away from Indonesia into the Pacific area and find 
the word at last down in New Zealand worn away down 
to Ngu or Ku. 

Beche-de-mer is abundant in these waters, variously 
styled the Holothuria, sea-slug or sea-cucumber, which 
when dried forms one of the staple exports of the great 


The generic term for these creatures is Men-ika or 
Man-ika, i.e., " Animal-fish " or Man-fish {Man = animal or 
Man, Ika = fish). Penipen, Pelipel, and Periper is another 
Caroline name for them, sometimes denoting a species, 
sometimes the genus. (Cf. Polynesian Penupenu — tough, 
glutinous, flaccid). There are a great many species, and 
the ones most highly esteemed for trade I mention first. 

Class No. i. The most highly esteemed of all, 
" Li-machamach-ueipul" " The favourite wife of the 
Flame-tree," called by trading-skippers the Tiger-fish, 
sometimes measuring a foot and a half in length. It is 
olive-green, covered with deep yellow spots each surrounded 
by a circle of deep olive. The touch of its tentacles or 
entrails produces a most violent itching and burning on 
the skin like the sting of a nettle, and the water it squirts 
out when taken out of the water if a drop gets in the 
eyes causes violent inflammation and sometimes loss of 

Habitat, the " mat" or detached reefs in the lagoon. 
It mostly lies in the deep water, six to ten feet, on the 
rocky shelves or amongst the coral lumps. 

In cutting up slugs for the try-pot we found inside 
some of the larger ones minute sea-eels, and small fry, 
upon which it appears these creatures feed. 

Main, the Shoe-fish, so called from its thick-rounded 
body, of a dark grey colour. 

Limach. Teat-fish. Large, black, covered all over with 
whelks and knobs and projections like a horned frog. 

Li-kapichino, Li-kapichinana, also called Penipen. Large, 
thick red, found on the Paina or outer reef. 

Torono. Large, reddish above, orange below ; found 
on the outer reefs at low tide. 

There are other edible varieties, some of which are put 
in with the rest as make-weights, or sorted into separate 
sacks. One dark yellow {Li-keniken), one light-coloured, 
found by moonlight {Penipen), one yellowish with black 
spots called in Kiti by the same name as the foregoing. 


There are four varieties sometimes eaten in times of 
scarcity, the common small thin black sort {Katup, in the 
Pelevvs Kasupl) ; one thick, black, nocturnal in its habits 
(Matup), after which a district in Metalanim is called ; one 
white, spotted-brown, found at the edge of mangrove 
swamps {Longun) ; and another light-brown above, white 
beneath (Kamet, Kamaf). 

There are other varieties which the natives do not eat. 
One large greenish-brown {Manet), one light-brown, spotted 
black, with a black line down the middle of the back 
(Uarer), one long black found under rocks and stones in 
the shallow pools {Chaparang), another long black one 
of similar habits known as Keeka or Kdka, and one dull 
green mottled dark-brown called Ul-alap-onge. 

Method of preparing Beche-de-mer. The slugs are taken 
straight ashore, split open with a knife, and the viscera 
( Ward) taken out — a most unenviable piece of work — and 
they are boiled in a deep iron try-pot. A substantial dry- 
ing shed has already been erected, the framework of stakes 
of mangrove-wood, thatched and walled in from the winds 
on every side with solid layers of young palm-fronds cut 
when the leaflets grow thickest together. Only the 
narrowest of entrances is left. Within is constructed a 
platform of shutters of reed-grass raised some four or five 
feet above the floor. On these the slugs, after the boiling 
process, are laid out to dry in a dense column of smoke 
which a carefully tended fire of driftwood below sends up 
night and day. When thoroughly cured, in course of 
which process they undergo considerable shrinkage, the fish 
according to their class are put up into sacks ready to be 
hoisted on board. They are kept carefully dry, as they 
spoil very rapidly with the least damp. The Chinese and 
Japanese value beche-de-mer very highly as a food, and 
pay very good prices, as much as £%o per ton having been 
realised with fish of the best quality. 

By a somewhat tedious preparation of stripping and 
soaking, the beche-de-mer is made into a delicious 


gelatinous soup, which has most invigorating properties, 
and when better known should take its place alongside of 
beef-tea and chicken-broth in the dietary of invalids, and 
as an easy rival of the much-vaunted turtle-soup of civic 
banquets. For the turtle, as every native knows, owes 
his flavour to the sea-slugs he feeds upon during the 
breeding-season. In combination with a peculiar vege- 
table styled Chinese parsley, beche-de-mer forms a most 
delicate stew, which I tested one evening at Macao and 
rendered it ample justice, to the delight of my Chinese 

(f) marine creatures of yap 
Crabs and Crustacea 

Small brown — Tafagif. The Rakumor Rokum of Ponape 
and the New Hebrides. Brownish purple, Teiteiguluf. 

Large — light blue and red markings (Sp. Cancrejo 
pintado). Maloob. 

Small, light brown, long arms. Or. 

Small, olive-coloured, hairy. Tamalang, Nomit. 

Small, spotted black, red and white, large red claw, 
found burrowed in sand and mud near in mangrove 
swamp. Gaburrogok. 

Hermit-crab. Yekayek. 

Burrowing crab. Kathiu. 

Robber or Coconut crab (Birgus latro) Aiyui. (Lamo- 
trek, Yeffi). Dark brown, Kafira. 

Swimming crab. Artim-a-dai. 

Cray-fish. Arangoi, ]\Iathithin. Black and white 
barred. Turned. 


Gaiutch, Aius, Gains. An alligator. A word derived 
from the Pelews, where they are occasionally found. 
(Malay and Philippine Buaiya, B to G.) 

Atelapok. The skink. A black lizard with red spots, 


about a foot in length, called Kieil in Ponape, Kiuen in 
Ruk, and Gual in the Central Carolines. 

Galuf, Guluf. The Iguana (Varanus sp.). 

Ataligak, Adaburru, Atarau. Sp. small lizards. 


Curlew (a) with curved bill. Kaku (b) with straight 
bill. Ruling. 

Plover. Sp. Gabachai. Albatross Mui-bab. Sacred 
to the god of war. 

Fruit-bat. Magelao, Maguilao 


Iritnen, N'min, the domestic fowl. Pilis, the dog. \Cf. 
Hindustani Pilla, a puppy.] 


Tai-on. Curious circular medusa, with six tentacles, 
found amongst the Lem or clumps of sea-grass which 
cover the sandy flats in the shallow lagoon, which the 
ebbing of the tide leaves with only five or six inches of 
water to cover them. 

Riir. A brownish-red starfish, studded thickly with 
bluntish dark blue points or spikes, about three quarters 
of an inch in length. 

Inap (Ponape, Ip). A curious bluish annelid adhering 
to the under parts of masses of limestone rock on the 

Rimich. The Tentumuoi of Ponape ; a gelatinous red- 
dish-brown creature, living in cracks and fissures of coral 
reef, stretching out a forest of suckers resembling a clump 
of water-weeds. 

Thilthil. Yellow or orange variety of Rimich, called in 
Mariannes Dodak-man-yagu, i.e. the animal that ducks 

Lon. Sp., jellyfish. 

Goloth. A sea-eel (murcena). 


Mokelikil, Ar, Marabilag. Species of sea-spider. 
Lilibots. A species of sea-snake, ringed black and 
white or yellow and black. 


Daotan. Grey body, whitish below, found on edge of 
mangrove belt ; edible, but scarcely palatable even in 
famine time. 

Buro. Large, inedible, greenish-brown. 


Somening. A large brown and yellow-winged grass- 

Osongol. The dragon-fly : one sort large, reddish-brown ; 
the other small, brown and yellow body. 

Galaoleu. Another species of dragon-fly ; body red, 
wings dark blue and white. 

Girrigir. The fire-fly, seen in great numbers in the 
evening darting in and out of the groves of areca and 
coco-palms like winged sparks of fire. 

Ngal. The white ant ; very destructive to pillars and 
flooring and furniture in houses. 

Ganau. The house-spider (Aranea). 

Riu. The cicala (Malay, Riang-riang). 

Elolal, Alolai. Worm. 

Gorro-mangamang. Caterpillar. 


Buol. The Cheuak of Ponape. 

Olaa. Large-pointed spines, spotted brown and white 
like those of porcupine. 


Along, Olong. The shark, i.e. the Hungry One. 
Litak. Small cobalt-blue fish, hovering round the clumps 
of branching coral, familiar to visitors in Pacific waters. 


Ngong. Small fish, banded black and white. Same 
habitat as Litak. 

U. The Leather Jacket. 

Rul. Sting-Ray. 

Kai. Octopus, or squid. Smaller sort, Luat. 

Tsinua. Black and white spiny fish. 


Boiangol. A dingy brown swamp-shell, resembling an 
elongated whelk. 

Dabau. A species of cockle found in mud near man- 
grove belt. 

Sana/. Black and white speckled shell. 

Atam-a-lang. Sp. whelk. 

Tinatef. Sp. cockle, speckled red, white and yellow. 

Eon. The Tiger cowry. 

Furufur. A curiously-shaped shell of the cockle order. 


Chakachak. Smashing of glass, rattling, clinking, 
chinking sound ; ticking of clock or watch ; tolling of 
a bell. Cf. Persian, chakachak, clashing of swords. 

Teteng. A slamming or banging sound. 

Rarrar : Patapatar. The falling or pattering of rain- 

Ngirringirrichak. The roar of a waterfall. 

Ueichip. To splash about whilst bathing. 

Tautau. A splashing noise as of oars or paddles. 

Monomonoi. Sound of liquid shaken in a cask. 

Rarrar. A rattling, scratching, ripping, grating or 
tearing sound. 

Mpimpering. To flare ; rumble, as a blaze of flame. 

Ngorrangorrachak. To jingle ; tinkle ; clink. 

Kuku : Kingking. The cooing of doves. 

Ketiketikak. To cackle, of fowls. 


Tontorrok. To cluck ; twitter, as a hen over eggs. 

Kokorrot : Kokkoroti. To crow as a cock. 

Chinchich. To skim stones along water ; to play at 
" ducks and drakes." 

Kumukumu-chak. The croak or grunting of the 
leather-jacket when taken out of water. Cf. Maori, 
kumukumu, the gurnard. 

U errenerre-chak : Uerreuer. To shout ; scream. 

Ngirchak. ■ The noise of rushing water ; fall of 

Terterak. A scraping or grinding noise. 

Tontot. Cry of cicala. 

Titik. Squeaking of rats. 

Ichi. To hiss, as snake or lizard. 

Uat. To hoot, as an owl. 

Momant. To rustle, as a dress. 

Kumuchak : Poch. The detonation of a musket or 

Pungpungak. The noise of the surf on the reef. 

Tui. The cry of a small black bird of the woods. 

Uetle. The note of the kinuet, a small green dove 
with maroon markings. 

Kamakamait ; Lokalokaia. The song of birds. 

Tukutukamak. Squeaking of rats. 

Li-aurara. Indistinct mutterings during sleep ; de- 

Nannamanam. To jabber ; speak confusedly. 

Kemmemar. To snore. 

Ngiringir. To growl ; snarl. 

Ngarangar. To quarrel ; scold. 

Ngai. To snap (as a savage dog). 

Molipe. To call out ; summon. 

Tantanir. To lament ; weep. 

Melakaka. The song of a chief. Cf. Hawaiian, mele ; 
Tahitian, umere. 

Kotuk. To break ; smash. 

Tenterong. To chatter. {Tenter, the cicala.) 


Uerreuer .• U erreuerre-chak. To shout ; scream ; 

Morromor. A noise ; tumult. 

Ngichingich. To shout (of a crowd). 


Kimai. A Metalanim wise woman of old from the 
Matup district, where the luou or ornamental bracelets of 
shell were first made. 

Chau-te-Leur. The name of an ancient king or dynasty 
of kings in Metalanim, when Ponape was under one rule, 
and the great walls of Nan-Tauach, the breakwater of 
Nan-Moluchai, and the sanctuary of Pan-Katara and the 
walled islets near Tomun were built by the divine twin 
brethren — the architects Olo-sipa and Olo-sopa. The 
last of them, defeated in battle by barbarian hordes from 
the south, under Icho-Kalakal, perished in the waters of 
the Chapalap river, near the great harbour, and was turned 
into a blue fish, the kital, which to this day is a tabu 

Chenia and Monia. Two adventurous heroes of old 
who explored the northern seas, until they saw the mid- 
night sky filled with fire, and returned home with speed. 

Kutun. God of the reef and all therein, and the little 
islands in the lagoon. His totem is the Li-er-puater or 
black and yellow choetodon fish. 

Rakim. God of house-building and carpentry. Accord- 
ing to Dr Gulick the god of evil, disease, death, and 
famine. In Ruk, Rakim = the rainbow ; and Sonsorol, 
Glagim ; and on Kusaie, Nelakem or Nlakem has the 
same meaning. So Rakim is probably a sky-god, answer- 
ing to the classic Iris. 

Chou-mach-en-cheu. The god of the sugar-cane. 

Li-kant-en-kap. The sting-ray (anciently Pae or Pat) 
the totem of the Tip-en-uai tribe, the descendants of Icho- 
Kalakal's great invasion. 

Changoro. The god of famine (worshipped in Chokach). 


Lumpoi-en-chapal. The name of an ancient hero who 
built the ancient fortifications at Chap-en-Takai, above 
Ronkiti, on the south-west coast. 

Nan-chapue. The god of kava and feasting. The 
Marrap or Native chestnut, sacred to him. 

Le pepe-en-wal. God of the inland wilderness and 

Nan-kieil-ilil-mau. God of the Kieil — a large black 
lizard with red spots, looked upon by the Natives as 
" li-kamichik" or " uncanny," from its savage disposition. 

Chokalai. The " Kichin-Aramack" or " little people " — 
the Trolls, or dwarf goblins, dwelling in the interior of 
the island. Doubtless here we have the tradition of 
dwarf Negrito hill-tribes, little by little exterminated by 
the early Malay settlers. 

Kona. The giant race of old. The grave of one of 
them is shown — an extensive barrow or tumulus at 
Kipar, near Annepein, on the Kiti coast. 

Cherri-chou-lang. i.e. The little angel from heaven. 
One of the lesser divinities who stole the kava plant 
{chakau) from the isle of Koto (Kusaie, or Strong's 
Island). A piece of the root dropped down from the 
feast of the gods in the clouds, and thus the kava plant 
came to Ponape. 

Chau-yap. An early navigator from Yap, in the west- 
ward, who was directed to Ponape by following the flight 
of the kutar, or king-fisher bird. Cf. Maori, kotare, id. 
According to one account, with his irar, or magic staff, 
he dug up the kava plant, and gave it to the men of 
Ponape, amongst whom he settled. 

Li-oumere. A fairy with long iron teeth, who visited 
Ponape and abode some time ; who was prevailed upon 
to show them in a ghastly grin, at the sight of the antics 
of a very ugly and comical buffoon. A man close by 
in hiding dashed out the coveted iron fangs with a stone, 
and great was the scrambling of the clan for their new- 
found treasures. 


Ina maram. The moon-goddess. Cf. Pol., Sina, 
Hina, Ina. Cf. Assyrian, Sin, the moon. 

Tau-koto. One of the gods of Kiti revered in the 

Chei-aki. An early navigator who landed on the 
Paliker coast, from the East Mortlocks, with seven com- 
panions, Manchai, Chiri-n-rok, Man-in-nok, Chinchich, Pai- 
rer, Roki, and Machan. 

Nan-imu-lap. (lit.) " The lord of the great house or 
lodge." — The god of dances. 

Nan-ul-lap. The Ponapean Priapus, and god of 
festivals. Sacred to Nan-ul-lap, who ruled all the con- 
tingencies of death, birth, sickness, and good and bad 
luck, were the turtle, the kamaik or parrot wrass, the 
marrer, and the tep fishes. They were ckapu, and only 
to be eaten by the chiefs of the tribe. 

Likant-Inacho. i.e. Queen Inacho. The presiding 
goddess of Chokach Island. 

Icho Kalakal. The war-god of Metalanim, i.e. Prince 

Icho Chau ; Icho Lumpoi. Tribal gods of Metalanim. 

Luka lapalap ; Luk. The prince of evil. Also, the 
spirit that flew over the face of the seas, bidding the 
lands rise up, and giving the names to trees and plants. 
Cf Scandinavian, Lok ; Loki y the prince of evil and 

1 Li-cher. Lady of the torch. 

1 Li-char. Lady of the knife or sword. 

Olopat. A demigod. The patron saint of Ngatik. 

Olo-sipa ; Olo-sopa. Demigods of the olden time who 
constructed the great walls, the stone-water frontages 
and wharves upon the islets between Tomun and Leak, 
on the Metalanim coast. Cf. the two great demigods of 
Tahiti, Oro-tetefa and Uru-tetefa. 

Nan-chelang. The god of canoe-building and carpentry 
incarnate in a green and yellow tree-lizard of the same name. 
1 The female guardians of Pueliko, the Ponapean inferno. 


Kaneki. God of the coconut palm. 

Inacho ; Likant-en-Aram ; Li-ara-katau ; Likant-e- 
rairai ; Li-mot-a-lang. Fairies — woodland goddesses or 
nymphs. The emblem of Li-ara-Katau was the lukot or 
Native owl. 

Nan-Ilakinia. God of Nan-Tamarui district, on south- 
east coast. 

Maile. A spirit who smites men with dizziness and 

Li - arongorong - pei. A sea - goddess worshipped on 
Ngatik, i.e., the Lady who loves the Holy places. 

Tau-Katau. The rain-god ; god of the breadfruit-tree. 

Li-Au-en-pon-tau. i.e., Lady-chief of the waterway. 
Goddess of the Palikalao river, on the south-west coast. 

Ilako. The family-god of King Rocha, of Kiti, on the 
south-west coast ; greatly revered in kava-drinking cere- 
monies. Cf. Yap, ilagoth, name of a god ; and Tagala, 
ilagai, to command, order, direct. 

Nanchau-en-chet. The lord of the morasses and salt 
marshes, dwelling in the body of the kaualik or blue 

Kili-unan. A hairy and shaggy goblin of the woods 
who brings disease and death. (Possibly a faint recollec- 
tion of the orang-utan, left behind them in Java, Sumatra, 
and other large islands of Indonesia.) 


Yalafath. The Creator ; regarded as a benevolent but 
indolent being ; incarnate in the bird mui-bab (albatross 
or Frigate Bird). 

Neviegai or Nemegui. His wife. 

Luk. The god of death and disease ; a mischievous 
and ever-active deity ; incarnate in the orra, a black bird 
of nocturnal habits. 

Luk-e-ling. The god of sea-faring men and navigation. 

Kuku-balal. The god of cultivation and planting. 


Kanepai. The god of the tsuru or Native dances. 

Ilagoth. The god who blesses and defends folk of 
good and peaceable life. (Ponape, Ilako.) 

Marapou. The sun-god. 

Urur. The moon-god. 

Mukolkol. The god of thieves and robbers, who 
generally leaves his votaries in the lurch in the long 
run. The Evil Spirit Luk also is a patron saint of the 
light-fingered fraternity. 

Mam. The goddess of childbirth. 

Uaga damang. The god of war. 

Dotra. The god of canoe-building, house-building, and 
carpenter's work. 

Magaragoi. The god who brings typhoons, gales of 
wind, and heavy rains. 
Madai; Wareleng. The gods of fishes, fishermen, and sailors. 

Pof. The god of women and love-making in general. 

Koko-galal. God of the niu or coconut palm. 

Lugeleng. The god of rain. 1 

Tereteth. Goddess of the atchif or coconut-toddy. 

Mui-bab. The god of war. 

Ilu-mokan. God of dances. 

Wol Trabab. God of strangers. 

Dessra ; Derra. God of fire and earthquake. 

Gora dai leng. The avenging deity who punishes bad 
men after death. A river flows by his abode, running 
underground. Tortured by fire, the bad spirit falls into 
the water, and the current takes him along and plunges 
him down into a deep hole or abyss of flames (lu-ni-gd) % 
where he disappears for ever. 

Karaneman. The god of whales and sharks. 

Ligich. The god of the turtle. 

Giligei. Ademi-god — theinventorof the^z or shell adzes. 

Lusarer. A hero of olden time, who taught the 
men of Yap to build fish-weirs of stone and wood. 

Bota-Sunumi. A title of Yalafath, the creator. 

1 Cf. Lamotrek. Luk-el-lang. The god of carpenters. 
2 B 



Yangalav. In Gochepa (central). 

Gutherei. In Rul (central). 

Ath. In Nimiguil and Goror (south). 

Gatamir. In Map and Ramung Islands (north). 

Magaragoi. In Tomil (central). 


Mai — Generic name. Cf. Tongan, Mei ; Marquesan, 
Mei. Cf. Chinese and Japanese Mai, rice. 

i En pakot. Long ; rough rind. 

Pon-panui. Long ; rough. 

Chaniak. Small variety. 

Paimach. Small variety. 
5 Yong. Small variety. 

En-uaoutak. Small variety. 

Takai. Round ; very hard. 

Impak. Round ; large size. 

En- uchar. Long, 
io Katiu. Long. 

Kumar. Long. 

En-machal. Long. 

Nine. Long. 

Letain. Small ; round, 
i 5 Nakont. Small ; round. 

En-pol-le. Longish. 

Apil. Round ; small. 

Chai. Smooth. 

En Kaualik. Long ; rough rind. 
20 En-chak. Longish. 

Nue. Large ; smooth ; round ; the most highly 
esteemed of all. 

En-charak. The mountain variety ; prickly rind. 

Koli. Seeded ; eaten ripe and raw (the jack-fruit). 

Pa or Mat. Seeded ; eaten ripe and raw (the jack-fruit). 
25 Kalak. Smooth; small. 


Taik. Smooth ; large fruit. 
Pulang. Smooth ; large fruit. 

All the following have a Rough and Prickly Rind 

Lipet. Large ; prickly rind. 

Uaka. Longish ; large. 
30 Potopot ; Puetepuet. Light-coloured ; long. 

En-pon-chakar. Reddish rind. 

Nan-umal. Longish. 

En-paipai. Long. 

Lukual ; Lokual. Wild bush variety ; very prickly. 
3 5 Tol. Small ; round ; dark rind. 

En-patak. Reddish ; longish. 

En-put. Very small ; round. 

En-cherrichang. Reddish rind ; small. 

En-patak, Long ; thin. 
40 En-par. Long ; darkish. 

En-kotokot. Round ; small. 

En-monei. Long ; thin. 
43 Ti. Long. 


(k) days of the moon's age x 

First period is called Rot or darkness, i.e., nights when 
there is no moon. Rot has 13 days. {Cf. Persian, Rat, 
the night.) 

1 Ir. 

8 Chau-pot-mur. 

2 Lel-eti. 

9 Chau-pot-moa. 

3 Chanok. 

10 Arichau. 

4 Chenok-en-komoni. 

1 1 Chutak-ran. 

5 Chanok-en-komdna. 

1 2 Eii. 

6 Epenok-omur. 

1 3 A ralok. 

7 Epenok-omoa. 

1 Most of these correspond closely to the ancient Tahitian sequence. In this 
connection cf. Appendix A to Tregear's Maori Comparative Dictionary. 

The Ponapean Ir is certainly the Tahitian Biro ; and the Tahitian Ari is 
clearly the Ponapean Arichau with its affixed princely titles. 



Second period — new moon— called Mack ; contains 9 
days, following the sequence of the numerals : — 

1 At. 6 Aon. 

A rre. 7 

Echil. 8 

Apang. 9 

Last period, Pul, contains 5 days 

1 Takai-en-pai. 4 

2 A ro-puki. 5 

3 Olo-pua} 

















Makeriker (Pleiades). 


1 4 U chu-nenek. 

15 Mel (The 

1 6 Langkoroto. 

1 7 Le-poniong (seen about 
time of variable winds). 

1 8 Katipar (the blank space 
in heaven known as 
the Magellan Cloud). 

19 Aron-mechei-rak = a 
comet ; also known as 
Uchu - pata-iki - mia — 
the star with a tail. 




1 1 



1 The Ponapean Olo is the Tahitian Oro or its equivalent Roo [cf. Hawaiian 
Lono, Maori Rongo) Marquesan Ono ; all varying titles of one of the Polynesian 
ideals of the Supreme Being, i.e., Sound. 

Cross ; also called 

(L) lamotrek star-names 

Uiliuil-al-evang. The Pole-star. 
Uiliuil-al-eaur. The Southern 
Pup, or the Leather- Jacket Fish. 
Tumur, Antares. 
Meal. Vega and a Lyrae. 

Ualego. Ursa Major. Literally, " The Broom." 
Ul. Aldebaran. Literally, " The Virile Momber." 


7 Evang-el-ul. Capella ; its appearance denotes heavy 

gales and bad weather. 

8 Magarigar. Pleiades. 

9 Oliel. Orion and Rigel. 

10 Kolong-al-mal. Sirius ; i.e., literally, "The Body of 

the Animal." 
1 1 Ping-en-lakh. Arietes ; i.e., literally, " The Centre of 

the House." 
1 2 Met-a-ryo. Scorpio ; i.e., " The Two Eyes." 
1 3 Sor-a-bol. Corvi ; literally, " The Viewer of the Taro- 

patches." Shines during Taro season. (Sor, to 

look ; bol, a Taro-patch.) 
1 4 Tchrou. Corona ; i.e., " The Fowling-net." 1 
1 5 Mai-lap. Althcea and (a) Aquiloe. 
16 Aramoi. Arcturus. (A ra, to conclude ; wo/, to come.) 

So called because the rising of Arcturus marks the 

end of the north-east winds which bring visiting 

parties to the island. 

1 7 Yuk-ol-ik. Cassiopcea ; literally, " The Tail of the Fish." 

18 Mongoi-sap. Gemini. 

19 Ik. Pisces. 

20 Mai ; man. Canis Major. 

21 Ililigak. Regulus. 

2 2 Gapi-sarabol. Speaker. 

23 Ngi-tau. Piscis Australis. 

24 Gapi-lah. Pegasi. 


1 Sarabol. 5 Mai-lap. 9 Ul. 

2 Aramaus. 6 Seuta. 10 Alltel. 

3 Tumur. 7 Lakh. 1 1 Man. 

4 Mai-rik. 8 KA. 12 Ich. 

(m) mortlock star-names 

1 Fusa-makit. A Ursce Minoris. " The Seven Mice," 
Makit. Cf. Ponape, Make; and Murray Island, 

1 Cf. Yap Chau, a fowling-net. Ellice group, Shau, Sheau, id. ; and 
Mortlock, Sen, id. 


Mokis, a mouse. Or it may mean " The Fus or Star 
that moves or changes its position." 
2. Ola. Ursa Major. 

3 Sen. Corona Borealis. 

4 Moel. Lyra. 

5 Manga-n-kiti. Gemini. 

6 Pou-n-man. Procyon. 

7 Vis. Leo. (Lit., The Rat.) 

8 Ap-in-Soro-puel. Virginis. 

9 Soro-puel. Corvi. 

i o Eon-mas. Crateris. 

i i Tanup. The Southern Cross. (Perhaps " The Shark" 

cf. Polynesian Tanifa : Taniwha, id.) 
1 2 Uk-en-ik. (Unidentified.) Literally, " The Fish-net." 
i 3 Sepei-ping-en-Sota. Delphini and Cygni. " The Bowl 

in the midst of Sota. 

1 4 Soto. Equuleus. 

15 Man. Sirius. The Dog-Star ; literally, " The Animal? 

16 Un-allual ; ellnel. Orion and Aldibaran ; i.e., 

" The Bunch of Three." Cf. Maori, Tau-toru. 

1 7 Ku. Aries. 

1 8 La. Pegasus. 

1 9 Marikir. Pleiades. 

20 Tumur. Scorpio. 

2 1 Mei-sik. v^o. Herculis. 
2 2 Mei-lap. Aquila. 

23 Aramoi. Arcturus. 

(n) yap star-names 

Told by Matuk, of Gochepa, on Tarrang Island 

Beginning from East to North. 

1 Mai-lap 1 . 3 Magirigir 3 . 

2 Un 2 . 4 Moul\ 

1 Mai- lap. cf. Mortlock, Mei-lap. 

2 Un. cf. Lamotrek, Ul (Aldebaran) ; Mortlocks, Ola (Ursa Major). 

3 Magirigir. cf. Mortlocks, Mariker (Pleiades) ; Ponape, Makeriker ; and 
Lamotrek, Magarigar, id. 

* Moid. cf. Mortlocks, Moel (Lyra) ; Lamotrek, Meal (a Lyrce). 


5 Yigelik or Yik-el-ik. 7 Mai-le-palafal. 

6 Ulagok. 

From East to West 

8 Yiliyel 1 . 1 2 Matarei. 

9 Sarabul' 1 . 1 3 Wonowon-le-y6r, the 

1 o Thamur*. southernmost. 

1 1 Thagalu. 

From South to West. 

1 4 Tholon-a- Wonoworfi. 1 8 Tholon-a-wun. 

1 5 „ matarei. 19 „ yiliyel. 

16 „ sarabul. 20 „ mailap, the 

1 7 „ thamur. westernmost. 

From West to North 

21 Tholon-a-magiregir. 24 Tholon-a-ulagok. 

22 „ ;;»«/. 25 „ mai-le-palafal, 

23 „ vigelik. the northernmost. 


GW ; Si-gat. A finger's length, i.e., 3 inches. 

Rua-gat. Two „ 6 inches. 

Sili-gat. Three „ 9 inches. 

Fa-gat. Four „ 1 2 inches, and so on. 

Si-ang ; Aug. One span. 

Ru-ang. Two spans. 

Sili-ang. Three spans, and so on. 

Rolibos. A half-cubit. 

Gopa. A cubit. 

Si-pap. Distance from tip of finger to centre of chest. 

Si-ngaf. One fathom. 

Si-gip. One foot ; literally, footprint. 

1 Cf. also Mortlock. Elluel: Allual, id. 

2 Sarabul. cf. Mortlocks, Soropuel (Corvi) ; Lamotrek, Sor-a-bol ; Ponape, 

3 Thamur. cf. Mortlocks, Tumur (Scorpio) ; Lamotrek, Tumur (Antares). 

4 Tholon ~ facing ; opposite. 




Aliu-Lap. The Creator or Supreme Being. 

Luk-e-lang ; Olevat. His sons — presiding over the 
work of carpenters and boat-builders. 

Semili-goror. The wife of Aliu-Lap. 

Selang. Her brother. 

Saulal. The Prince of Evil. 

Alis-i-let, also called Toutop. The Lamotrek Neptune 
and God of Fishes, called in Satawal Aliu-sat or Pon- 


Crescent Moon 






Elling. (Root, 
to shine.) 



Epei. (Whenatsundown 
the moon is canted 



over a little to west- 







Rua-bong. (The joining 



together (Rua) of the 




Full Moon 

1 1 













Mares ( = Ripe 

; de- 


Saopas- maimor 





Ur. (Sun and 




together on sea in 


Ro j milt-fan. 

the evening.) 


A rafoi. 

















[From " Die Bewohner der Mortlock Inseln," by J. S. 
Kubary ; published in Hamburg by the Geographical 
Society in 1878-79.] 

(q) days of the moon's age 




Natiu ; Netiu. 


A Hang, Elleng 














Aanak ; Effanak. 





















1 1 

A ro-puki. 






A ro-fiu. 






Ammas, Emmas. 




Aur, Eur. 





Named after 

certain Stars 


Vis (Leo). 


La (Pegasus). 


Soropuel (Corvi). 


Ku (Aries). 


Aramoi (Arcturus). 


Mariker (Pleiades). 


Tumur (Scorpion). 

1 1 : 

* Un-allual ; elluel (Alde- 


Mei-sik (vgo Herculis). 

baran and Orion). 


Mei-lap (Aquila). 


Man (Sirius, or the Dog- 


Sota (Equuleus). 


* Unelluel (Orion) = the bunch of three. Cf. Maori, 
Tautoru ; Mangarevan, Toutoru. id. 


Rasau, God of war. 

Sapinfa; Sau-piong ; Ulu-puau; Terie-lap; Piol. Tribal 


(t) days of the moon's age 

The Yap month has 30 days counted in three divisions 
(1) Pul= New Moon 










Nga-thalib deleb-e-pul. 







1 1 

Kaiper-e-pul-na-tha-kan- 9 




A regak-e-pul. 

1 2 

N ga-logoru-e-pul. 



(2) Bo trau 

= Full Moon 










A ningek-a-botrau. 






A regak-a-botrau. 



(3) Lumor = darkness. Cf. Pampanga, lumlum, 
hundum, id. Ponape, lumor, the sickness of a chief. 


Kaipir-e-lumor-ko-pul. 2 7 Nga-lal. 


Nga-ru-e-lumor-ko-pul. 2 8 Nga-nel. 


Nga-dalib. 29 Nga-medelib. 


Nga-aningek. 3 Ka-mai-e-pul. 



Maragil. 5 Tobil. 9 Ambin, 


Paga-ath 6 Dunom. 10 Yitch. 


Lagu. 7 MatJiaek. 1 1 Puloi. 


Olo. 8 Ya-olang. 1 2 Tchef. 




An independent list compiled by Chamisso during 
Kotzebue's Voyage in these seas in 1815-1818 





















1 1 



















A rotevalan. 





















Observe the wonderful coincidence with the Mortlock 
and Lamotrek equivalents with a mere change from N. to 
L. and T. to R. G. to K. and T. to S. 

This shows very clearly the minute and accurate astro- 
nomical knowledge possessed by the early Caroline Island 
navigators, and the very considerable range of their mari- 
time activity in generations past. 


(a) The following is the result of a preliminary inspection 
of some dredgings taken by the Spanish Cruiser Quiros 
in the Ant Lagoon to the west of Ponape Island, East 

The washings consist chiefly of Foraminifera, in addition 
to which may be noted Alcqonarian spicules, spines of 


several genera of echinoderms, numerous pteropods, hetero- 
pods, and ostracoda (including Bairdia and Loxoconchd). 
The most conspicuous foraminifera are : — 

Spiroloculina impressa, Terquem. 

Miliolina agglutinans (d'Orb). 
Pelosina variabilis, Brady. 
Textularia concava (Karrer). 
Globigerina bulloides, d'Orb, var. triloba, Reuss. 
Truncatulina rostrata, Brady. 
Calcarina spengleri (Linn.). 
Amphistegina lessonii, d'Orb. 

radiata (Fich. & Moll.). 
Operculina complanata (Defrance). 

,, „ „ var. granulosa, 

Heterostegina Depressa, d'Orb. 

(/3) The stone money of Yap is merely crystallised carbon- 
ate of lime (calcite), and is probably from a vein of that 
substance filling cracks in limestone or other rock. 

(y) A microscopical examination of a thin slice of the 
limestone from Gerem Islet, Lai, South Yap district, West 
Carolines, shows the rock to have been a calcareous sand 
composed of molluscan shell fragments, echinoderm spines 
and plates, foraminifera such as Orbitolites complanata Lam. 
Textularia barrettii I. and P., and Amphistegina lessonii 
d'Orb., also numerous pieces of Lithothamnion and joints of 
Halimeda. These organic fragments are firmly compacted 
by a dolomitised matrix with some cavities in the rock. 
The matrix is probably the result of crystallisation and 
subsequent dolomitisation x of a calcareous mud. 

(S) The reddish rock from Elik seems to be an impure 
limestone stained in bands by iron oxide. 

Kindly supplied by F. Chapman, A.L.S., F.R.M.S. 

1 Dolomitisation is the partial replacement of the carbonate of lime in a 
limestone by carbonate of magnesia. 




Four photographs — (a) Two " Tols" or woven belts of 
banana fibre crossed, one dark, one light coloured ; (/3) 
eight Kusaian " To/s " in line on screen ; (y) two finely- 
finished specimens of same ; (S) four ditto from the King's 

Notes on Photo (a). 

Black " To/," Length, 4ft. 9^ ins. 
Width, 7\ ins. 

Ends terminating with fringes knotted — stained salmon- 
pink. One end has five particoloured bands in various 
designs, each about f in. wide. 

In line with the length of the " To/" the space is occupied 
at regular intervals by three particoloured stripes and 
borders of various widths extending into the body of the 
" To/" for a distance of ten inches. Colours in stripes red, 
dark-blue, purple, yellow, pink and brown. 

The central portion is stained a glossy black, the texture 
having the appearance of horse-hair cloth. 

The upper right-hand end is woven in eighteen bands 
similar to those previously described, and of the same 
colours, save that the red and the blue are not found. The 
design is uniform but not continuous, the colours of each 
band running in broken lines. 

Light-coloured " To/." 

Length, 3 ft. 4$ ins. 
Breadth, 5§ ins. 

Made from natural coloured banana-fibre — fringed at 
each end. At varying intervals across the width, and 
almost uniformly disposed, are bands of interwoven orna- 
ment in dark red and black, forming diapers, ornamental 
chequers and diamonds variously disposed. The outer 
edges are bordered by two narrow lines in dark red. 

Notes on Photo (/3). 

These " To/s " sustain the character of the two described 


above, but are less elaborate in pattern, and woven in plain 
lines or checks. The natives use them for sashes and 
sometimes as a hat-ribbon. In Honolulu the curio-shops 
used to receive regular small consignments of these from the 
Boston mission at Mout on Ualan, and they were quite the 
fashion amongst the society belles of that city. 

Notes on Photo (y). 

Two exquisitely finished belts given me by Likiak-Sa. 
The upper one has a lozenge ornamentation in a lovely 
electric blue. The delicate designs of the one below are 
traced in brown, dark-red and dark-blue upon a sheeny 
white background. 

Notes on Photo (S). 

Four delicately finished Tols of the finest sort. The 
top one picked out in graceful patterns in blue, black, 
crimson and brown. The second striped light blue and 
white. The third striped reddish-brown, yellow and white. 
The lowest red-brown, with white perpendicular orna- 
mentation with the names of the weavers, Kenie and 
Malem, in broken lettering. 

Similar woven belts of the same fibre, frequently of very 
fine design, are found throughout the Melanesian area. 

In Aneityam (N.H.) they are called "N'etu." They are 
found in Santa Cruz, where they call them " Neveia- 
nikapu" specimens of which, brought by Mr Jennings, may 
be seen at the Liverpool and British Museum, and the 
Rev. Codrington showed me some very fine specimens 
which he said came from the Banks Group. 

One is reminded somewhat of the Basho-fu or banana- 
fibre fabric of Japan, said to be derived mainly from the 
Ryu-Kyu or Lew-Chew Islands. 

The same industry is seen in Sumatra, and I believe in 
many other islands of the Malay Archipelago. 

The loom is a simple hand-loom. In Ponape they 
call it Tantar, in Kusaie Puas, in Bencoolen (Sumatra) 




In the Malayan area the Rainbow is called Bahag-Ari 
or Pinang-Rajah, both of which names denote the belt of 
a great lord. Possibly some such elaborate and beautiful 
fabric as this was worn by the great chiefs of Malaysia in 
early days, before the Arab merchants plied, and before 
cheap tawdry cotton goods came in from Manchester. 


Notes on Ponapean Shell A dzes. 

Seven adzes and gouge ground down into present shape 
from central shaft or hinge of the Tridacna Gigas or Giant 
Clam. Found in the central vault called the Tomb of 
Chau-Te-Leur upon Nan-Tauach Island in the Island City 
of Nan-Matal, Metalanim district, Ponape, east coast. The 
five first named are now in the British Museum. 



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AgaSa, Metropolis of Mariannes, 53, 

55, 250. 
Albany Pass, 28. 

Alek, carver in native woods, 207. 
Aleniang Station, no, 176. 
Alligators, 18. 
Amaral Nettle, 248. 
Amon, Umin or Amin Village, 271. 
Amoy, coolie traffic, 42. 
Ancestral worship, 75. 
Ani, gods, 74, 84, 117. 

Present at kava making, 191, 193. 
Ant Islands, 22, 1 18, 210. 

Account of, 70. 
" Arbungelap " feast described, 95. 
Areca Palms {Katai and Kotop), 61, 

114, 189, 249. 
Arnold, Sir Edwin, 293. 
Aru Island, 76, 202. 
Arum {A.Costatum), 64. 
Asan village, rice planting in, 232. 
Atua on Eastern Upolu, kava drinking 

at, 191. 
Au of Marau — 

Gives author imormation, 211. 

On Palang people, in. 

On tradition of Nan-Matal, 81,83. 
Augustino, Padre, 57. 
Aulong {see ginger, wild). 
Author (F. W. Christian) — 

Arrives at Yap, 233. 

Ast Nalap, 63, seqq. 

Collection of seeds, 33, 46, 120, 
175. 308. 

Curios, 322. 

Extract from diary, 155. 

Interview with Don Jose Pidal, 

Ichipau, 105. 

the Noch, 203. 

Learns Kusaian dialect, 155. 

Leaves Manilla, 48. 

Leaves Ponape by Uranus, 228. 

On Washington Island, North 

Marquesas, 270. 

Returns to Colony, 175, 197. 

Starts for Manilla, 42. 

2 D 

Author (contimted) — 

Sonsorol work, 303. 

Starts from Sydney, 27. 

Studies Ponapean language, 67. 

Visits Barrow of Kipar, 69. 

Visits native markets, 47. 

Visits ruins of Nan-Matal, 76, 
85, 89. 

Visits Shanghai and Japan, 41. 
Avetch shrub described, 294, 308. 
Avira, Tahitian sage's prediction, 169. 


Babelthaob Island, 17, 18. 

Balakong village, 260. 

Ballintang Straits, 322. 

Bamboos, 343. 

Bananas, 334, 351. 

Banka, native craft, 39, 42. 

Banyan trees {Nin and Aio), III, 177, 

Barringtonia or Wi, 159, 181. 
Described, 182. 

Barter, Yap system of, 237, 270. 

Bats [Kalekaf), 161. 

Beche-de-mer, 374 ; method of pre- 
paring, 375. 

Beck, Louis, opinion of Likiak-Sa, 

Belolach Island, 51. 

Betel-Nut chewing and kava drink- 
ing, 189, 263. 

Bird's nest fern (Talik), 114, 182. 

Blanco, General, gives credentials to 
author, 47. 

Boating accident near Tapak, 201. 

Bolinao, 45. 

Bows and arrows, 136, 137. 

Bracelets, shell, 90. 

Bread-fruit groves, 149, 227. 

Bread-fruit wood, 306. 

Brugmann, Captain, at Ramung, 275, 

Bulual, graves at, 302. 

Butron, Captain, of the Velasco — 

On prevailing winds in Yap, 235. 
Opinion of Pelews, 17. 




Callophyllum {Bioutch) — Tree, 


Fruit, 249. 

Wood, 55 ; used in building, 305. 
Cananga (Ilangilang), 45. 
Canna or Indian shot, 260; seeds, 248. 
Canoe, Building of the first, Yap 

Legend, 321. 
Carabao, native buffalo, 45. 
Carolina Island, gives name to group, 

Caroline Islands — 

Abstract of histoiy of Spanish 
occupation, 24. 

Character of natives of central, 

Early navigators, 267. 

Languages, 310. 

Local names, meaning of, 93. 

Sketch of, 17 seqq. 
Carved Pillars of Yap, 306. 
Centipedes, 361. 
Ceremony, language of, 326. 
Chabrol harbour, 150, 151. 
Chamisso — 

Obtains Uleai star names, 267. 

Narrative of ' Kotzubue's Voy- 
ages,' 56. 

Visits Carolines, 23. 
Chamorro dialect, 231. 
Chamorros, natives of Mariannes, 20, 


Characteristics, 55. 

Emigration into Central Carolines, 
Channon, Dr, at Mout, 163, 166. 
Chapalap River, 116. 

Skirmish on, 25. 
Chap-en-Takai, ruins of ancient fort 

at, 209. 

Position of, 214. 
Chap-on-Nach, meaning 01, 93. 
Chau-Icho, meaning of, 94. 
Chaulik, 197, 200, 202. 

Invites author to Mutok, 176. 
Chau-Tapa, characteristics, 87. 
Chau-Te-Leur, King, 80. 
Chestnut, native, 338. 
Chikuru Island, 147. 
Chila-U, "Adze-head Rock," 223. 
Chokach Island — 

Basalt on, 82. 

Described, 226. 

Mats, 196. 

Precipice, 60, 63, 226. 

Chokach — 

Nallaim or High Priest of, 225. 

Wachai of, 59, 63. 
Chokalai cemetery and people, III, 


Christiano, story of, 98. 
Cicalas, 177, 
Cinnet Cord, 124. 
Class-names of Ponape, 324. 
Coconut, stages of ripening, 339, 340, 

Coconut- toddy {Karuoruo), 165. 
Codrington, Rev. R. H., describes 

stone buildings at Gaua, 84. 
Coloured fish, 244. 
Cooktown, 27. 
Copra, annual export of, 21. 
Crab [Birgus latro), 160, 179. 
Crabs, species of Ponapean, 370, 371. 
Craig, Hugh, Captain of s.s. Menmuir, 

27. 37- 
Cray-fish {Pahnurus) 262, 371. 
Crocodile stories, 300. 
Cycas circinalis {Fadan), 55. 
Cycas palm {Fauteir), 313. 


D'Urville, Dumont, visits Carolines, 

Dana, opinion of Nan-Matal ruins, 85. 
Dance-paddles, 86. 
Dances, native, 252, 253, 254. 
Darwin, 85. 
De Quincy, 292. 

Deer, tale of a spectral white, 267. 
Dewar, J. C. — 

Description of Kusaie, 156. 

Nyanza wrecked, 76, 98. 

Visits Lele, opinion of King, 

Dim, 34. 

Doves {Murroi, Kinnet, Kingking), 

Draccena, 247, 260. 
Drums, native, 138, 139. 
Duperry visits Carolines, 23. 
Dziamarous (Chaumaro), 95, 96. 
Dziautoloa, 108. 


Eastern and Western thought, gult 

between, 292. 
Eels in Ponape, 62, 73, 364, 365. 
Elik, orange-red rock from, 262, 265. 



Elceocarpus or Chatak tree, 117, 227. 

Berries, HI, 112. 
Enderby Islands (Los Martires), 20. 
Attempts to introduce Catholic 
faith on, 23. 
Etal Islands, 21. 
Eugenia, Malay apple, 256. 
Evolution of Man, Yap tradition of, 

Fal, relics of old gardens, 296. 
Fatumak, Minister of the Woods, 240, 

247, 255. 
Favorlang, dialect of Formosa, 231. 
Fireflies, 19, 240. 

Fire, Yap legend of invention of, 320. 
Fish dams or weirs (stone), 243, 266, 

278, 280. 
Fish-oil, process of making, 195. 
Fishes, list of names of Ponapean, 

.352, 355- 

Fish-hooks, ancient, 90, 126. 

Foelsche, Police-Magistrate at Port- 
Darwin, 32. 

Forbes, H. O., in sacred grove of 
Timor, 104. 

Formosa, hill tribes of, 42. 

Fowls, native, 368, 369. 

Freycinet visits Carolines, 23. 

Freycinetia leaves, 114. 

Fruit-bat, 245. 

Fulaet, altitude of, 151. 

Fun-Tan, Marianne God of ships and 
sailors, 233. 

Gal (Kal) settlement, 259. 

Gameu, 275, 278, 298. 

Gatchepa, 269. 

Gaua, Santa Maria, stone buildings 

at, 84. 
Genii, story of the Eight, 285. 
Gerem islets, 239. 

Gilbert Islanders' characteristics, 164. 
Gilifith Island, vegetaiion, 298. 
Gilolo Straits, 119, 144, 238. 
Ginger, wild, 114, 177. 

Bloom, 248. 

Cones of Rang from, 297. 
Ginifai settlement, 260. 
Goat Island {see Kambing). 
Goats, 18. 
Goror, 247, 251. 

2 D* 

Grey, Sir George, dream of South Sea 

Islands federation, 220. 
Guam (Guahan), volcanic island, 20, 

52, 54, 228, 230. 
Ancient cones or pyramids upon, 


Gulf of Carpentaria, inhabitants round, 

Gulick, Dr — 

Meteorological observations, 62. 
On Nan-Matal ruins, 85. 
Guppy, Book on Solomon Islands, 


Hale, opinion of Nan-Matal ruins, 85. 

Hall Islands, 20. 

Harbours, Ponapean, 60, 61. 

Hats, native, 124. 

Hawaii, daemon temples of, 170. 

Hayes, "Bully," at Lele, 152. 

Head of Laponga, 94. 

Hermit crabs (Umpa), 180. 

Herodotus, describes worship of Mylitta 

at Babylon, 290. 
Heron, blue {Kaualik), 125, 177. 
Hibiscus t Mace us, 112. 

Fishing nets of, 126. 

Traps and snares of, 125. 
Higgins, John, trader on Kalap, 144. 
Hogolu Lagoon, basaltic islands in, 

Hogolu, or Ruk Islands, 20. 
Holcombe, Captain — 

Murdered at Tench Island, 238, 

On winds of Yap, 235. 
Holtze, Curator of Botanical Gardens, 
Port Darwin, 32. 

Promises to classify seeds, 308. 
Horned frog (Cerastes) in Pelews, 298. 
Hong-Kong to Manilla, 40 seqq. 
Horace quoted, 18, 164. 
Houses of the Ancients, 53. 

Ichipau (Paul) of Metalanim, 75. 
Conduct towards author, 76, 104, 

119, 175, 198, 206. 
Proposes to send women and 

children to Lang Takai, 118. 
Spies, 101. 
Ichipau, King of U., 63 ; account of, 



Icho-Kalakal, tradition 01, 157. 
Idzikolkol, lands at Nan-Matal, 108. 
Idzipaus of Metalanim, 108. 
Ie-sina of Samoa (mat), 237. 
Iguanas ( Varanus), 298, 301. 
Ikoik trees, 182. 

Uoech, boating accident at, 279. 
Indonesia, 112, 119. 

Early Malayan Migrations from, 
Inot, medicinal tree, 183. 
Ipomeas Yol and Chenchel, 1 10. 
Iriu tree, 308. 

Iron, native names for, 133-135- 
Itet Island, the Monster of, 96. 
Ivory- Palm, 341. 
Ixora (Katiu) tree, 216. 

Blossoms, 91, 114. 

Jack-fruit {Mai-mat), 145, 14S. 
Judas, native teacher in Nalap Islet, 


Ka-n-Mant, yellow wood shrub, 114. 
Kake (white-gull), 184 ; Habits of, 

Kalap Island, 142 ; Productions, 145. 
Kalau or hibiscus, archways of, no 

(see also Hibiscus). 
Kamau seeds, 180. 
Kambing (Goat) Island, 39. 

Scenery, 55. 
Kaneke, 197, 201, 207, 227. 
Kangit tree, 299. 

Kap-en-Mailang Islands and lan- 
guage, 21. 
Kapara Islet, 118. 
Kapara, spring of fresh water in coral, 

22, 60, 210. 
Kava — 

Cargo of, 100. 

Drinking and betel-nut chewing, 

Festivals, 76, 87, 95. 

Making ceremony, 190. 

Plant and beverage, 1S8. 

Plant described, 211. 

Plea for use of, 193. 
Kehoe, J., 87, no, 119. 

Offers help in exploring ruins, 85. 

Reminiscences of, 98. 
Kehoe, Louis, no, 113, 119. 

Keppel Bay, pilot station in, 27. 
Keroun, extortionate demands of, 107. 

Superstition of, 85, 86, 89. 
Ketam, fortified post of, 214. 

Captured by Spaniards, 28, 99. 
Kevas, teaches author Kusaian lan- 
guage, 155, 168. 
Kilauea of Hawaii, 212. 
Kingfishers, 358. 

Kingsley, Charles, Westward Ho, 1S5. 
Kipar, Barrow of, 69. 
Kipling, Rudyard, 293 ; remarks upon 

the Rukh of India, 250. 
Kiti — 

Fight of men 01, 23. 

Tradition of iron men, 217. 

Tribes and Metalanim, war be- 
tween, 117. 
Kiti, King of — 

Battle with Chau-Kicha, chief of 
Wana, 214, 215, 218. 

House of, 215. 
Kiti River, 61. 
Kobe, author visits, 41. 
Kol, native kilt, 122. 
Konias, assists author, 303, 316. 
Konuk, or Betel-pepper, 182. 
Korror, King of, 261. 
Kosso Kisrik (rats) of Kusaie, 159. 
Kotzebue visits Carolines, 23. 
Kubary, J. S. — 

At Mpompo, 175, 200, 227. 

His List of star names collected in 
Mortlock Islands, 267. 

On Dr Pereiro's views on Nan- 
Matal ruins, 81. 

Opinion of ruins, 82, 85, 108. 

Plan of Pankatara and Itet, 95. 

Sketch plan of names, 93. 

Tale of Conger-eel of Itet, 96. 
Kupuricha peak, 60, 199, 228. 
Kusaie (or Ualan) Islands, 22. 

Discovered, 23. 

Inhabitants, 153. 

Language, 155, 168; Appendix. 

Name, derivation of, 156. 
Kyoto, temples of, 41. 


Ladrone Islands (see Marianne 

Lai, 243, 260, 265. 

Local Superstitions, 267. 
Lak or Water-taro (Colocasia), 18, 

248, 256, 260, 299, 308. 
Lamenkau, meaning of, 94. 



Lamotrek — 

Islanders' customs, 238. 

Legends of alligator, 300. 

Star names, 267. 

Uleai folk assemble at, 20. 
Lampongs, tribe of Sumatra, 94. 
Land-birds of Ponape, 357, 358. 
Land-shells, 213, 359. 
Lang-Takai, native fortress of, 116. 
Langar Islet, 60, 199, 227. 
Lap or Headman of, 175. 
Laponga, the Wizard, legend of, 

Lame at Kiti, 23. 

Bronze cannon discovered by, 
Le Hunt, description of Ixora trees in 

flower, 91. 
Leak, hill settlement, 207. 
Legaspi and Villalobos discover Yap, 

Lele Island, 150, 156. 
Axes and adzes, 157. 
King of, 173 ; receives author, 

Loom, 158. 
Manufactures, 158. 
Cyclopean Walls on, 158. 
Products, 158. 

Ruins, 157, 169; Measurements, 
Lew-Chew Islands, 229. 
Lewis, Evan, reminiscences of 

Lamotrek Islanders, 238. 
Li-kiak-sa, native teacher in Lele, 

.!54, 155. 159, 168. 
Lidah Pait, artificer of Passumah 

monoliths, 198. 
Limbi, 39. 
Lime Fruit, 250. 
Limestone rocks on Paniau, 180. 
Lirou, Chief of Tomil, 267. 
Author visits, 304. 
House, 305. 

An old tradition, 310, 318. 
Southern Yap version of Flood, 
Lizards (Lamuar), 180, 362, 363. 
Lockhart, Hon. Stewart, at Hong- 
Kong, 41. 
Lot, 106. 

Loth, the Fairy Mother, 282. 
Lukunor Islands, 21. 
Lumpoi, David, English-speaking 
Chief, 76, 78. 

At Nan-Matal, 104. 
Extortionate demands, 107. 

Luneta Esplanade — 

Fashionable promenade, 45. 

Military executions on, 317. 
Liitke, Admiral — 

Rediscovers Seniavin Islands, 109. 

Visits Carolines, 23. 
Luzon Railway, 45. 
Luzon Sugar-Refining Company at 

Malabon, 44. 
Lygodium, climbing fern, 295. 


Macao, 37. 

Machamach-men or Wizards of Yap, 

288, 289. 
Macleod, Willie, 48. 
Mactan Island, Magellan murdered 

on, 22. 
Magellan discovers Marianne and 

Philippine Islands, 22, 53. 
Mai Island, 198. 
Malabon, tobacco industry, 44. 
Malate (Manilla) Botanical Gardens, 

Fiesta at, 46. 
Malayan alphabets, early, 231. 
Malayan sea-rovings, 9, 119, 144. 
Maluek (Morinda) tree, 248 {see also 

Morinda Citrifolia). 
Mango groves, 227. 
Mangrove bark as dye, 268. 
Mangroves, 61, 328. 
Manilla, account of, 43. 

Botanical Gardens, 46. 

Diario, stanza from, 276. 

Population, 42. 

Products, 45. 

Rebels shot in, 317. 

Tondo, native quarter, 44. 
Mantapeitak Island, 76. 
Mantapeiti Island, 76. 
Manton Island, 142. 
Map Island, 234, 271, 280. 

Club houses, 294. 
Marachau tree, 177. 
Marau settlement, 209. 

Au gives author information, 211, 

Basalt slab, 213, 216. 

Flats, 210. 

Fort, 214. 

Native Hospitality at, 219, 220. 
Marche, Alfred, visits ruins on Tinian 

and Saipan, 54. 
Maria Secunda, cutting-off of the 
trading schooner, 315. 



Marina, Senor, Governor of Mari- 
annes, 50. 

On history of Mariannes, 53. 
Marianne Islands — 

Discovered by Magellan, 22. 

History of, 53. 

Spaniards conquer, 20. 
Marianne ladies, 262. 
Marquesan holy places, 170. 
Marrap-en-chet seeds, 180. 
Marshall Islands, 22. 
Martinez, Ensign, massacred with his 

party, 226. 
Massacre of Lieut. Porras and party, 

Mats, Ponapean, 127. 
Mateu shrub, 216. 
Matreu, bush town, 299. 
Matuk of Gochepa — 

On old traditions, 310. 

On Pimlingai, 318. 
Maypayo village, cock pit at, 45. 
Menmuir s.s., voyage from Sydney to 

Hong-Kong, 27 seqq. 
Metalanim — 

And Kiti Tribes, war between, 117. 

Bombarded by Spanish, 118. 

Descent of, 117 

Dialect, 118 and note. 
Metalanim ruins {see Nan-Matal 

Metalanim, Ichipau of {set Ichipau 

Paul of Metalanim). 
Michor settlement, 149. 
Migrations eastward, early Malay, 9, 

119, 144. 
Milai Island, 255, 257. 

Capuchin station, 258. 
Mindoro Island, 39. 
Mitchell, Joe, 51. 
Mok-Lal, 160, 161. 
Mokil (or Duperrey) Islands, 22, 144. 

Canoes, 145. 

Inhabitants, 143. 

King, or Icho of, 144. 
Mokomok man on native language 

and folk-lore, 311. 
Mokomok, or Arrowroot Island, 19. 
Mollusca on Paniau, 181. 
Morinda Citrifolia (Flame Tree), 122, 

Mortlock Islands, 21. 

Dialect, 124. 

Star names, 267. 
Motu dialect, 144. 

Mount Takaiu, Sugar-loaf Peak, 61. 
Mount Tolokom, 61. 

Mount Wana, near Aleniang, 117, 
119, 176, 183. 

Mout settlement, 150; account of, 163. 

Mpompo, 175. 

Murcenas, sea-eels, 181. 

Mutakaloch Islet, cellular basalt for- 
mation, 22, 60, 199. 

Mutok Island, 118, 176. 
Feast on, 186 seqq. 


N., Captain, 50, 56, 57. 

On Ponape natives, 58. 

Pilots Spanish cruisers into Oa 
harbour, 198. 
Nagasaki, early Japanese emporium of 

trade with Malays, 156. 
Nakap Island, 92. 
Nalap Island, 118. 

Described, 64. 

Placed at author's disposal, 63, 65. 
Nalio, Nanapei's mother, 65. 

Death of, 225. 
Naming the birds, Ponapean legend of, 

Nan-Matal ruins — 

Builders, 109. 

Conclusions on, 108. 

Description of, 79 seqq. 

Excavations, 85, 89, 102. 

Labyrinth of, 78. 

Measurements, 80, 86, 91, 100. 

Similar ruins, 82. 

Skulls found in, measurements of, 

Treasure trove, 89. 
Nan-Moluchai, meaning of name, 93. 

Breakwater, 198. 

Walled sanctuary, 92. 
Nau-Tauach, 79, 85, 86. 

Meaning of name, 93. 
Nan-Yo, Islands known as, 157. 
Nanapei, Henry, chief of Roukiti, 76. 

Author meets, 63, 175. 

Author takes leave of, 225. 

Imprisoned by Spanish, 26. 
Nanchau of Mutok, 83. 

Entertains author, 1 76. 
Nanchau- Rerren of Annepein-Paliet, 

entertains author, 197, 209. 
Nangutra Island, 95. 
Nantamarui, 1 10, 1 12, 197. 

Stone work at, 108. 
Nantiati, 197. 

Enormous basalt slabs at, 198. 
Native dance, 252. 



Native diseases, 326, 327. 
Negritos of Ponape, III, 112. 
Nei-Afu, spring of fresh water on reef, 

Nets, Ponapean, 126. 
New Year's Island, 32. 
Ngatik, or Raven's Island natives, 
22, 23, I75. 

Curious dialect on, 175. 

Ruins of a third Pankatara on, 
Ngi or ironvvood foliage, 183. 
Ngingich Island, 51, 233, 238. 
Ngiri courtyards, 255. 
Nkau, medicinal weed, 179. 
Nin tree, 177. 

Bark, native cloth made from, 
122, 124. 

Fruit, 112. 
Nipa palms, 63, 78, 180. 
Noch, Metalanim chieftains, 203. 
Not-tribe, 212. 
Nukuhiva sand- flies, 113. 
Nukuoro Island and language, 21. 
Nutmeg (Karara), 177. 


Oa, rebel stronghold, 98. 
O'Keefe, Captain — 

Author's agent and banker, 233. 

Cruise in Pelews, 51. 

Meets author, 315. 

Offers author passage on Santa 
Cruz, 322. 

Opinion of Pelew Islanders, 17. 
O'Keefe, Mrs, 268, 316. 
Obadiah, Deacon, 202, 203, 204. 
Obi Islet, 307. 

Olot or sea-grass, beds of, 199. 
Onoth village, 249. 
Oppenheim-Gerard, E., 51. 
Orange-tree groves, 233. 
Owl, native, 358. 


Pacific Atoll-Island characteristics, 

Pakin Islands, 22. 
Pal-akap, meaning of, 93. 
Palang people, peculiar speech of, 1 12. 
Palang River, Valley of, 63. 
Paliker hills, 63. 
Paliker natives, 58. 
Palmer, Miss, at Mont, 163, 164. 
Palomo, Padre Jose, gives author 

information, 230. 

Pampang, dialect of the Philippines, 

Pampanga Cock-fight, 46. 
Pampangs of Luzon, 55. 
Pandanus or Screw Pine, 336. 
Pandanus (Matal or Taip), 55, 1 12, 

"5» 159. 177- 

Fruit, 179. 
Pan-ilel, meaning of, 94. 
Pan-Katara — 

Meaning of, 95. 

Sacred Precinct of, 217, 218. 
Paniau Islet, Fishing-Station on, 178. 

Coral limestone on, 182. 

Tour of, 179. 
Panuelos, 46. 
Panui, meaning of, 94. 
Paper Mulberry Bark {Brottssonettia), 

native cloth made from, 124. 
Parasol-fern (A'ana), 305. 
Parat, sea bird, 180, 181, 184. 
Parrakeet, native, 357. 
Parsley Fern (Ulunga-n-Kieil), 182. 
Pasig River, 42. 

Passumah Monoliths, Sumatra, 198. 
Pat Kul, shell-axes, 85, 90, 193. 
Peak, the Railway, 40. 
Pei-Kap, meaning of, 94. 
Pein-Aring Island, 92. 
Peitak, meaning of, 94. 
Pelew Islands — 

Dialect, specimen-words of, 261. 

Expeditions from Tomil, Rul and 
Gochepa to, 319. 

Population, language and pro- 
ducts, 17, 18. 
Pereiro, Dr Cabeza — 

Account of Yap Islands, 234. 

Historiette, 80, 98. 

On Barrow of Kipar, 69. 

On Nan-Matal ruins, 81. 
Philippine Islands — 

Dialects, 275. 

Discovered by Magellan, 22. 

Revolution in, 229. 
Philology, abstract of, 68, 69. 
Pidal, Don Jose — 

Assists Author, 57. 

Policy in Carolines, 25. 
Pigeon English, specimen of, 203. 
Pigeons (Pahtck), III. 
Pigs, native, 366. 
Pilau, author at, 273, 298, 303. 

O'Keefe's station at, 265, 269. 
Pilung and Pimlingai, Yap class- 
divisions, 318. 
Pine-apples, 299. 



Pingelap (or M'Caskill) Islands, 22. 

Characteristics of inhabitants, 150. 

King of, 149. 

Notes on, 147. 
Pitcher-plant, 299. 
Plant and Tree-names, Caroline, 328, 

Poison-root, 91, 126. 
Pon-Kaim, 97, 207. 
Pona-Ul, ruins upon, measurements 

of, 115. 
Ponape, or Seniavin Islands, 21. 
Climate, 62. 
Description of, 59, 61. 
District, 61. 
Early history, 83. 
Flora, 62, 64 (Appendix). 
Harbours, 60. 
Islets in Lagoon, 60. 
Lame, coasts round, 23. 
Population, 61, 65. 
Salt marshes, 63. 
Star names, 267. 
Stone enclosures, 115, i7 c - 
Wars, early, 117, 211. 
Waterways, 63. 
Ponapean — 

Axes and knives, 132. 
Baskets, 128. 
Bottles, 129. 
Burial, 74. 
Carving, 130. 
Character, 71, 117. 
Combs, 129. 
Cooking utensils, 129. 

Dances, 139. 

Dress of men, 122. 

Dress of women, 123. 

Faith, 74. 

Food, 72, 73- 

Fan, 128. 

Fish hooks and fishing, 126. 

Fortifications, 214. 

Gods, 381, 384. 

Hats, 124. 

Hospitality, 219. 

Household implements, 127. 

Houses, 140. 

Husking-stick, 131. 

Legend of Kava plant, 241. 

Loom, 131. 

Marriage, 73. 

Materials for textiles, 124. 

Mats, 127. 

Mosquito screen, 127. 

Musical instruments and dances, 

Ponapean (conti?iued) — 

Nets, 126. 

Pillow, 128. 

Traps and cages, 125. 

Warlike character of, 117. 

Weapons, 136. 
Ponapean language, 84; twodialects,68. 

Meaning of local names, 93. 
Porras, Lieut., murder of, 163. 
Port Aru or Oa, action in 1890 at, 60. 
Port Darwin — 

Botanical gardens, 33. 

Description of, 32. 
Port Luis, 230, 232. 
Port Luis de Apra, 54. 
Posadillo, Spanish Governor, murdered , 

Pot Falat (see Lele ruins). 
Priestly caste, Ponapean, 325. 
Puia, cave at, 161. 

Fresh water shells, 295. 

Gilbert Islanders' settlement, 151, 
Pulak Island, meaning of name, 94. 
Pulok seeds, 180. 
Pulo-Suk, pirate stronghold, 20. 
Pulo-Wat, pirate stronghold, 20. 

Quiros discovers Ngatik, 23. 

Rafts, bamboo, 242. 
Ralik Islands, 143. 
Ramak shrub, 146. 

Ramung Island, 234, 237, 275, 281, 
300, 302. 

Rats, native, 125, 159. 
Banal tree, 249. 
Raur, trading depot, 20. 
Rife, Dr, at Mout, 163, 168. 
Robinson, Sir William, Governor of 

Hong-Kong, 41. 
Rocha, King of Kiti, 121, 176, 179. 

Plants trees, 181. 

Settlement at Aleniang, 1 10. 
[ Rocky Island, 27. 
Ronkiti, 64, 208, 225. 

Population, 65. 
Ronkiti River, 61, 62, 209. 
Ruk, or Hogolu Islands, 20. 


Saavedra, Alvaro de, discovers 
Uluthi and Kusaie Islands, 22. 

St David's Isle, Dutch flag hoisted on, 



Saipan Island, colony of Caroline 
Islanders upon, 232. 

Cones or pyramids upon, 53. 

Salazar, Alonzo de, discovered Mar- 
shall Islands, 22. 

San Bernardino, Straits of, 119. 

Sand-flies (Em-en-wal), 113. 

Santa Cruz, Catholic school at, 265. 

Santa Misa, Filipino rebels defeated 
at, 229. 

Santiago, Spanish colony, 56, 60. 

Sarung Sakti, artificer of Passumah 
monoliths, 198. 

Satoan Islands, 21. 

Saturnino, Padre, 57. 

Scorpions, 361. 

Screw-pine (P. edulis), 146. 

Sea-birds of Ponape, 355, 356. 

Sea-cucumbers {Holothurid), 184. 

Sea-snakes (Kafoldla), 159. 

Sea-weed, curious narcotic, 336. 

Seeds, deadwood, etc., drifting of, 180. 

Sempalok theatre, drama in Tagala 
dialect, 47. 

Shanghai, sights of, 41. 

Shark, capture of shovel-headed, 31. 

Shark, names of, 352. 
Worship of, 214. 

Shell-axes, excavation of, 85. 

Shenandoah visits Carolines, 24. 

Shimonoseki, 41. 

Sisin shrub, 146. 

Skink lizards (Kieil), 113. 

Slings, 136. 

Snakes, 18. 

Somerset, beche-de-mer and pearling 
trade at, 29. 

Sonsorol Island, attempts to intro- 
duce Catholic faith on, 23. 

Soto, Colonel, killed, 25. 

Spaniards conquer Marianne Islands, 

Spanish occupation ot Ponape, 24, 25. 

Spanish Micronesia, account of, 17. 

Spears, 137. 

Sponges, 184, 196, 209. 
Squid, various names for, 373. 
Steatite (soap-stone) carvings, 42. 
Stevenson, R. L., 177 ; South Sea 

Ballads quoted, 77. 
Sting-ray (Paibok) tail of, 309. 
Stone money-wheels of Yap, 236, 259. 
Stone images or Tikitik on Ponape, 

Sula Besi, 39. 

Sulu Archipelago dialect, 231. 
Sydney to Hong-Kong, 27 segq. 

Tagala, dialect of the Philippines, 

Tagals, 55, 234. 

Tahiti, scarcity of land-birds on, 257. 
Tahitian sepulchral monuments, 170. 
Taka Island, 147. 
Taka-tik, or Little Island, 227. 
Takabau instructs Author in Pelew, 

Takai-nin-Talang, stone on Chapalap 

River, 99. 
Talik-en- IVal, climbing hartstongue, 

Talisai, native almond, 45. 
Tamanu timber, 294. 
Tan - ne • Erouatch, land of Dead 

Heroes, 280, 294. 
Tapak Island, sacred enclosures, 76, 

82, 115. 
Tapalau Island, 51. 

Fiesta, 312. 
Tarragon, Pelew chieftain, prisoner 

on Santa Cruz, 315. 
Tarrang Island, 51. 

Sonsorol boys on, 303. 
Tattooing, 268. 
Tauak Island, 225. 
Tau-Mokata Channel, 226. 
Taylor, captain of Esmeralda, 42. 
Te Bako, "The Shark" account of, 66. 
Telemir Peak, 60. 

Tenga-uai or Cerbera lactaria blos- 
soms, 248. 
Termites' mounds, 28. 
Teton dialect, 38. 
Textiles, Kusaian, 158, 394, 396. 
The House of Taga, description of, 54. 
Theodoro, 48, 49, 51, 58, 85. 

Collects seeds and fruits, 120. 

Photos, 52. 

Runs away, 104. 

Sent to Aleniang, no. 

Taken prisoner and shot, 121. 

Te Bako and, 67. 
Thespesia trees, 55, 182. 
Thursday Island, account of, 29. 

Beche-de-mer and pearling trade, 
Tiati, feast at, 223. 
Timor, 34. 

Description of, 38. 

Early home of Malayo — Poly- 
nesians, 39. 

Portuguese Governor and Aus- 
tralian merchant, 35. 



Tinian Island, ruins, 54. 
Tipungan village, 233. 
Titin, medicinal tree, 183. 
To-Kogunsama, Emperor, interdicted 

trading expeditions, 156. 
Tobi, stone images of Yari upon, 170. 
Tol-en-Takai, 177. 
Tol-o-Puel, 177. 

Tolotik Islet, " Little Hill," 209, 225. 
Toluk of Omin or Amon, 302. 
Tomil Bay, Spanish Colony in, 237. 
Tomil harbour, 19, 51. 

Author visits, 304. 

"Big House," 306. 

European settlement at, 269. 
Tomun, or Tamuan Island, 76. 

King's dwelling on, 206. 
Tondo, ward of, 44. 
Torres Straits, 28. 
Tree-Gardenia, 227. 
Tree-lizards (Galuf), 19. 
Tribal jealousies, 217, 218. 
Tulengkitn, 142, 161, 175. 
Tupap, Umbrella Tree, 225. 


Ualan Islands (see Kusaie Islands). 
Uchentau, 79, 85, 102, 105, 207. 
Uleai Island, 20. 
Uleai star names, 267. 
Uluthi key-words, 310. 
Uluthi or Mackenzie Islands — 

Account of, 19. 

Discovered, 22. 
Umin, grave of chief of, 296. 
Urak Island, 142, 143. 
Uranus, author leaves Ponape on, 

Valley of Dwarfs (see Chokalai). 
Velasco, Don Miguel, Commander o' 
Quiros, 70. 

At Nan-Matal, 100. 

His popularity with natives, 25. 
Venus, Mail steamer, 48, 50. 

Enters Ascension harbour, 56. 
Victoria, Capital of Hong-Kong, 39. 

Description of, 40. 
Villalobos and Legaspi discover Yap, 

2 3- 
Voi tree, 19. 


Wachai of Chokach, 63. 
Account of, 59. 

Waingal seeds, 180. 

Walai Island, 273. 

Wampum, shell- bead money, 89. 

Water-melons, 299. 

Weilbacher, Captain, at Langar, 175, 

Whales, 353. 

Wichmann, Dr, on basalt of Nan- 
Matal, 82. 
Wilson, Captain of Antelope. 

On " Flower-pot islets," 180. 
On paved causeways of Pelews, 
Winds, season of, prevailing in Yap, 

235. 2 3 6 - 

Wizard, 193. 

Wood, C. F., on Ponapean super- 
stition, 104. 

Wote, wild fig tree, 308. 

Wyatt-Gill, Rev., legend of origin of 
pigs, 285. 


Yalafath, head of the Yap Pantheon, 

281, 284. 
Yam-vines, 257. 

Yam, varieties of, 333, 334, 349. 
Yap Islanders — 

Characteristics, 258, 262. 

Two Classes, 288. 
Yap (Guap or Wap) Islands — 

Account of, 18, 234 Seqq. 

Barter, 269. 

Canoes, 52, 145. 

Description of, 51. 

Discovered, 23. 

Gods, 384, 385. 

Graves, 295, 296. 

Inhabitants, 52. 

Language, 52. 

Mat, 237. 

Mespil system, 290. 

Pearl shells, 237. 

Population of, 241. 

Productions, 19. 

Scarcity of land birds, 257. 

Star names, 267. 

Stone money, 236, 259. 

Tabu system, 290. 

Trees, 257. 

Version of flood, 281, 286. 

Wharf of coral blocks, 265. 

Wizards, 289. 
Yetaman, chief of Gilifith, 300. 





UPI 261-2505 


996 .6 

Christian , 
William , 

The Caroline 
Islands : travel 
m the sea of the 

996 .6 

Christian , 

William , 
r The Caroline 
Islands : travel 
m the sea of the