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Presented to the
UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO
LIBRARY
by the
ONTARIO LEGISLATIVE
LIBRARY
1980
Digitized by the Internet Archive
in 2008 with funding from
IVIicrosoft Corporation
http://www.archive.org/details/fijiitspossibiliOOgrimuoft
FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
THE GEOGRAPHICAL LIBRARY
Nearest the Pole,
By Robert E. Peary, U. S. N.
Fighting the Polar Ice,
By Anthony Fiala
The Awakening of China,
Bv Dr. fF. A. P. Martin
The Opening of Tibet,
By Perceval London
The Passing of Korea,
By Homer B. Hulbert, A. M.
Flashlights in the Jungle,
By C. G. Schillingi
--n.c*X^aC<x ..'^^UpA^
/■
f^
^
•3 iTJ- '1*
y 5 1 5 o t < o
Fiji and its Possibilities
By f.
BEATRICE GRIMSHAW
Illustrated from
photographs
_i . .J!
r?^
New York
Doubleday, Page & Company
1907
,M
\ MICRO
IViA;
DATi: ^r>}:o...:^
Copyright. 1907. by Doubleday. Page & Company
Published, September, 1907
All Rights Reserved
Including that op Translation into Foreign Languages
Including the Scandinavian
PUBLISHERS' NOTE
THIS STORY FIRST APPEARED IN ENGLAND UNDER
THE TITLE "FROM FIJI TO THE CANNIBAL ISLANDS"
CONTENTS
Chapter I. Descriptive and Humorous.
A Far Cry to Fiji— The Wonderful Hills— History of
Fiji — Link Between Eastern and Western Pacific — The
Days of Thakombau — How the Colony is Governed —
Trade of the Islands — The Humours of the Penal System
Chapter II. On the Trail
27
Garden of the Swiss Family Robinson — Over the Hills
and Far Away — The Pandanus Prairies — Fijian Luggage
— The Curse of the Spotted Bun — A Tropical Forest —
Benighted on the Way
Chapter III. Native Food — A Fijian Home 41
Night in a Fijian House — A Colossal Bed — The City of a
Dream — A Fascinating Fijian — How to Drink Yanggona
— Wanted, a Stanley — Where are the Settlers? — The
Fairy Fortress
Chapter IV. Hospitality 67
"Plenty Shark" — Introduction to a Mbili-mbili — Down
the Singatoka River — A Mek^-mek^ at Mavua — Thalassa !
Chapter V. Personal Impressions 83
The Song of the Road — Fijian Fun — Night on the Wain-
ikoro— The Noble Savage Fails— The Village Plate— The
Lot of the Kaisi — Sharks Again — ^A Swim for it
vni
FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
lOI
Chapter VI. Contrasting Scenes
Off to the Ndreketi— Fijian Smart Society— A Native
Princess— The Sugar-cane Dance— Getting Bogged— The
Use of Bad Language— The Ndreketi River— A Splendid
Timber Country— A Native Diary— Truth About
Tropical Forests— How to Live on Nothing a Day
Chapter Vn. Industrial Surprises ^^i
At the Back of Beyond— The Last of the Cannibals— A
Pleasant Old Devil— The Plague of Fleas— When Gideon
Went Wild— Nanduri Once More— The Vanilla Planters
— Cattle-ranching in Fiji
Chapter VIIT. An Anglo-French Dilemma i39
The Mysterious Islands — Where No One Goes— What
Happened to the Cook— A Fairy Harbour— Extraordi-
nary Vila— History of the New Hebrides— What France
Intends
Chapter IX. The New Hebrides iS5
New Hebridean Natives — Life in an Explosive Magazine
— The Delights of Dynamite Fishing — The Sapphire and
Snow Mele — On a Coffee Plantation — Plan to Eat a
Planter — The Recruiting System — The Flowering of the
Coffee
Chapter X. Malekula— An Uncanny Place .... 177
Bound for Sou'- West Bay — The Wandering Steamer —
The Marriage Market in Malekula — An Avenue of
Idols — The Unknown Country — A Stronghold of Sav-
agery— Ten Stick Island
Chapter XI. Malekula — The Outer Man 193
How Bilyas Made Itself Strong — The Slaughtered Traders
— 'Into the Unknown Country — The Cannibal Toilet —
New Fashions in Murder — The Ignorant White Woman
CONTENTS ix
PAGE
Chapter XII. Malekula — ^The Inner Man 209
How a Malekulan Town is Defended — The Idol Dance —
Fintimbus and the Pig — Gregorian Chant in the Wilder-
ness— What are the Malekulans? — An Interview with a
Cannibal Chief — The Lost Opportunity — No Admittance
to the Temple — A Marvellous Mummy — The Bluebeard
Chamber — Making a Conical Skull — The Captain's Story
Chapter XIII. Malekula — Pagan and Warlike . . . 225
Idols of the New Hebrides — The Famous Poisoned
Arrows — The Threatened Schooner — The Breaking of
Navaar — An Ill-natured Sea-chief
Chapter XIV. Hot Times in Tanna 237
Hot Times in Tanna — An Island of Murderers — The
Terror that Walks in Darkness — A Tannese Village —
Avenging a Chieftain — Was it an Accident ? — A Council of
War— Netik— The Work of British-made Bullets
Chapter XV. Tanna — Its Scenery and Resources . . 257
Somebody's Picnic — The Simple Life in Tanna — The
Returned Labour TroubVe — Up the Great Volcano — The
Valley of Fire
Chapter XVI. Norfolk Island — Good-bye 279
The Story of Norfolk Island — A Woman in the Case — The
Fate of the Mutineers — In the New Home — A Valley of
Peace — Good-bye
ILLUSTRATIONS
Beatrice Grimshaw .
Frontispiece
FACING PAGE
Fijian chiefs and armed native constabidary . . 17
Fijian chief .......
T-1
Armed native constabulary
17
Sugar boats, Rewa River .
19
A Fijian jail
19
Coca ....
30
Cinnamon
30
A mountain house
32
Joni making fire
36
A root of yanggona .
36
Tiny Tambale .
• 45
The ndalo beds
. 45
Yanggona bushes
• 45
House of the Turanga Lilewa
62
A feast by the way .
65
Bringing up the yams
65
Morning, Lemba-Lemba
71
The Buli of Lemba-Lemba, with father and family
71
My followers on the Mbili-Mbili .
74
Getting ready for the meke-meke
74
"Three Sisters" Mountain, Vanua Levu
86
The village plate .....
95
Unpeopled country .
95
The boatless Wainikoro
. 98
The wild pineapples .
98
Makarita in festival dress .
. 103
Makarita in Sunday dress .
. 103
Sunday morning in Nanduri
106
xu
FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
FACING PAGE
The sugar-cane dance ,...••
io6
In the prince's house — Fijian bed . . . •
III
The wood-cutter
119
A dakua tree ......••
119
"Bad Lot"
122
The "Tevoro"
122
Vanilla .......-•
^33
On a cocoanut plantation ......
^33
Drying vanilla ........
133
The Anglo-French Naval Commission . . . .
140
H. M. S. Pegasus
140
Entering the stock-yards ......
149
Havana Harbour, Efat6 ......
149
Coffee-drying ........
172
Coffee in flower. .......
172
The refuge island of Wala — natives coming home to sleep
179
The avenue of idols .......
179
Chief's collection of boar tusks and jaw^s
184
Afraid to land — Sou'-West Bay ....
198
Conscience-stricken ......
198
Malekula warrior ......
203
The women's dance ......
211
Dancing and singing ......
211
The dance of Atamat and Finti^nbus .
. 213
A dancing mask ......
. 213
The forbidden temple .....
215
Bringing out the mimimy
. 218
Town of Lemba-Lemba
220
Infant head-binding .
220
Typical idols
227
" Wishing-arch " idol .
229
The strange-faced idol
. 229
A notorious cannibal .
. 234
Poisoned arrows
. 234
ILLUSTRATIONS
xui
Tannese scar-tattooing
Shooting fish
Night refuge
In the yam fields
The bad old man
Looking out for trouble
The allies coming in .
The council of war — the speaker for war
The coimcil of war — "What was that?"
Tannese woman ....
Tanna man .....
Tannese girl climbing a cocoanut palm
At the foot of the cone
Bushmen coming to see a white child
Fashions in Erromanga
"After life's fitful fever" .
The shore road, Norfolk Island .
Captain Drake, R. N., and Mrs. Drake.
House .....
Garden fence of whales' ribs and vertebras
Tennis, Norfolk Island
Government House, Norfolk Island
Government
FACING PAGE
247
247
250
252
252
259
270
275
275
282
282
286
286
292
292
.*i-?^
fK
-,>;H < ; f »f ' «■ ^»
FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
CHAPTER I
DESCRIPTIVE AND HUMOROUS
A Far Cry to Fiji — The Wonderful Hills — History of Fiji —
Link between Eastern and Western Pacific — The
Days of Thakomhau — How the Colony is Governed —
Trade of the Islands — The Humours of the Penal
System
IT IS a "far cry" to Fiji. Take ship from London, sail
down the coasts of France and Spain, journey up the
Mediterranean, by Scylla and Charybdis, and all the
ancient world ; reach Port Said, pass through the Gate-
ways of the East, and steam through the torrid Red Sea
into the Indian Ocean— and as yet you have hardly started.
A little further, and one comes to sun-baked Aden, and
isees the India-bound passengers leave the ship, con-
gratulating themselves that the long tiresome voyage
is over now. . . . Ceylon, and the magnificent East,
lift like a splendid comet on the horizon, glow for one
gorgeous day, and slip back into the past. Now the
East lies behind, and the West is long forgotten, and
what is there to come?
The South is still to come — the wide, free, wonderful
world that lies below the Line, and that is as utterly
unlike all things met with above, as the countries East of
Suez are unlike the countries lying West, in outworn,
unmysterious Europe.
4 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
Happenings are largely a matter of latitude. About
the fiftieth parallel, nothing interesting happens but
policemen, bankruptcies, and Lord Mayors' shows.
(Millionaires also happen — if you wish to be a millionaire
you must on no account stray below forty north — but
millionaires are not interesting, only instructive — in
the uselessness of money.)
Down toward the thirties, colour begins to glow upon
the gray outlines of Northern life, and in the twenties,
strange scenes and astonishing peoples paint it over and
over. Cross the Line, and now you may take the brush,
and indulge your vagrant fancy to the full, for nothing
that you can paint will be too bright or too strange.
Below the equator is the world of the south, and here
anything may happen, for here the new and the wild and
the untried countries lie, and here, moreover, you shall
come upon unknown tracts and places in yourself, on
which, if you had stayed within sound of the roaring
throat of Piccadilly, no sun had ever shone.
. . . And as yet, we are scarce half-way on our
journey. More weeks slip by, and, yellow, nude, and
harsh, West Australia of the goldfields and the great
unvisited plains lies on our port bow. More days, and
sparkling Melbourne is passed, and Tasmania has sunk
below the horizon, and still we are travelling on. . . .
Sydney, bright and eager and curiously young (where
have all the grp,ybeards hidden themselves? or are they
all at home in the old gray lands that suit their outworn
souls?), is forgotten, and the great English ship is left
at the quay, making ready for the homeward journey,
and still, in another vessel, for ever and ever, as it seems,
we are going on. . . . Seven weeks now since we
sailed from Tilbury in a storm of parting cheers, friendly
faces, wet with driving English rain, and with something
DESCRIPTIVE AND HUMOROUS 5
more, growing white and far away upon the pier — and
still the blue seas run in an unceasing river past
our rail, and we sleep at night to the sound of
beating waves. . . .
It is nearly eight weeks now, but the eighth will not
be completed. One morning we are all waked early by
the sound of the steamer shrieking for a pilot, and when
we hurry on deck, we are confronted by a sparkling
harbour, a green lagoon, and a pile of the most extraor-
dinary and incredible mountain ranges ever seen outside
the dreams of a delirious scene painter. There are peaks
three and four thousand feet high, the colour of a purple
thundercloud, jagged and pinked like broken saws;
peaks like side-saddles, peaks like solitary, mysterious
altars raised to some unknown god, and in the heart of
the glowing violet distance, one single summit fashioned
like a giant finger, pointing darkly to the sky.
Opposite the hills lies a pretty little town, under the
shelter of rich-green wooded heights. A quay runs out
from the land, and there are wharf officials, and custom-
house men on the quay, and in the background well-
dressed men and ladies all in white, and carriages and
in a word, civilisation — the last thing that we expected,
here at the ends of the earth.
It is some time before the new-comer realises that
Suva, the capital, is to Fiji in general as the feather in
the factory-girl's hat to the rest of her attire. Such a
splendid level as this is only attainable locally, and the
rest of the country suffers by comparison almost as much
as the decaying garments of Mary Ann from Bermondsey
pale before the proximity of that marvellous erection of
feathers and tinsel on her head. Still, to the traveller
from home, who has probably arrived with undefined
fears of "savages" about the beach, and the roughest
6 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
of tavern accommodation in the town, the first impression
is astonishing.
Suva, on landing, proves to be a good-sized town,
with a long handsome main street, edged on one side by
neatly cut grass, and great flamboyant trees in full flower
of vivid scarlet, bordering the still, green, waveless lagoon
that lies inside the barrier reef. On the other side stand
shops with big plate-glass windows, clubs, offices, hotels.
A little way out of the town is Government House, perched
upon its own high hill to catch the trade wind — long and
wide and deeply verandaed, with a tall flag-staff bearing
the Union Jack on the roof, armed native sentries pacing
at the avenue gates, and a stately flight of steps leading
to the porch, to be covered with red carpet on great
occasions. . . . And this is savage Fiji!
When we have chosen a hotel, disposed of our lug-
gage, dined, and settled down to have a rest on the coolest
veranda — for it is exceedingly hot, and the laziness of the
Pacific world begins to press hard upon us — we may as
well try to increase our understanding of the place where
we find ourselves, by reading it up, until the heat and the
sleepy swing of the long cane rocking-chair shall prove too
much.
Fiji is a British Crown Colony, situated in the South-
west Pacific, lying between the 15th and 22nd parallels
of south latitude, and between 157 E. and 177 W. longi-
tude. It consists of 155 islands, with a total area of
7,400 square miles. Most of the land is contained in the
two great islands of Viti Levu (Great Fiji) and Vanua
Levu (Great Land), which account for 4,112 and 2,432
square miles respectively. These two islands are ex-
ceptionally well wooded and watered, and could, it is
said, support three times the population of the whole
DESCRIPTIVE AND HUMOROUS 7
group. Viti Levu is in every way the most important
island in the archipelago. It contains the seat of govern-
ment, the principal harbours, and all the roads, and
much the greater part of the colony's trade. There is
one town in the group besides Suva — Levuka, the capital
of former days, on the small island of Ovalau.
The climate is certainly hot, though the thermometer
does not rise to any extraordinary heights. During the
three hottest months — ^January, February and March —
the highest shade temperature ranges between 90° and
94° Fahr., and the lowest between 67° and 72°, roughly
speaking. In the cooler months of June, July and
August, 59° and 89° are the usual extremes. The air
is moist as a rule, and in Suva, at all events, one may
safely say that a day without any rain is almost unknown.
On the northern side of Viti Levu, the climate is a good
deal drier, and in consequence less relaxing. Dysentery
is fairly common, but there is no fever to speak of, and
the climate, on the whole, is considered healthy. Mosqui-
toes are so troublesome that most of the better class
private houses have at least one mosquito-proof room,
with doors and windows protected by wire gauze.
One hears a good deal about hurricanes in Fiji, and
the stranger might be pardoned for thinking that they
are common features of the so-called "hurricane season."
As a matter of fact, however, they are rare, many years
often elapsing between one hurricane and the next.
Between 1848 and 1901 inclusive, there were only thirteen
hurricanes in the group, and of these only six were really
destructive. Most tropical climates would have a worse
record to show if carefully investigated. Although the
rainy months are damp and enervating, the drier half of
the year, from April to October, is extremely pleasant,
and not at all too hot.
8 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
. . Not asleep yet? . . . The trade wind hums
in the great vanes of the pahn-trees outside the hotel
veranda. It is very warm, and the flash of white foam on
the barrier reef, between the flat tops of the quaint
"rain- trees," and the red roofs of the lower town, is too
far away to offer even a suggestion of coolness. Is it not
too hot and drowsy a day to study Fijian geography and
history?
No, for we are in the hot season, and every day for
the next three months is going to be just like this, and
if one only reads and works in a tropical climate when
one feels like it, one will never get through any work at
all. That is part of the "white man's burden," and
pluckily he shoulders it as a rule. Most intellectual work
in the hot season is done clear against the grain from
beginning to end, after a fashion that would make the
London city clerk stand aghast. Yet it is excellently
done for the most part, and it does not, in Fiji, at all
events, seem to tell against the health.
So, beginning as we mean to go on, we will look up
the history books, and see what is the past record of this
strange land into which we have come. We have already
,noted, passing down the street, the curious mixture of
the population — whites, half-castes, Samoans, Indians,
Chinese, and more conspicuous than any, the Fijians
themselves, tall, magnificently built people of a colour
between coffee and bronze, with stiff brush-like hair
trained into a high ''pompadour," clean shirts and smart
short cotton kilts, and a general aspect of well-groomed
neatness. They do not look at all like "savages," and
again, they have not the keen, intellectual expression of
the Indians, or the easy amiability of the Samoan type of
countenance. They are partly Melanesian, partly Poly-
nesian in type, and they form, it is quite evident, the
DESCRIPTIVE AND HUMOROUS 9
connecting link between Eastern and Western Pacific.
East of Fiji, life is one long lotus-eating dream, stirred
only by occasional parties of pleasure, feasting, love-
making, dancing, and a very little gardening work.
Music is the soul of the people, beauty of face and move-
ment is more the rule than the exception, and friendliness
to strangers is carried almost to excess. Westward of
the Fijis lie the dark, wicked cannibal groups of the
Solomons, Banks, and New Hebrides, where life is more
like a nightmare than a dream, murder stalks openly in
broad daylight, the people are nearer to monkeys than to
human beings in aspect, and music and dancing are little
practised, and in the rudest possible state.
In Fiji itself, the nameless dreamy charm of the
Eastern Islands is not; but the gloom, the fevers, the
repulsive people of the West are absent also. Life is
rather a serious matter for the Fijian on the whole; he
is kept in order by his chiefs and by the British Govern-
ment, and has to get through enough work in the year to
pay his taxes; also, if the supply of volunteers runs short,
he is liable to be forcibly recruited for the Armed Native
Constabulary, and this is a fate that oppresses him a
good deal — until he has accustomed himself to the discip-
line of the force, when he generally makes an excellent
soldier. But all in all, he has a pleasant time, in a pleas-
ant, productive climate, and is a very pleasant person
himself, hospitable in the highest degree, honest, good-
natured, and clever with his hands, though of a less
highly intellectual type than the Tongan or Samoan.
Fijian solo dancing is not so good as that of the Eastern
Pacific, but there is nothing in the whole South Seas to
equal the magnificent tribe dancing of Vanua and Viti
Levu, only seen at its best on the rare occasions of a
great chief's wedding or funeral. The Waves of the Sea
ro FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
dance is one of the most celebrated ; it is danced by several
thousand men wearing long white streamers of tappa cloth
(a native-made stuff beaten out of the inner bark of the
mulberry-tree, and looking like fine white paper) . These
streamers, skilfully managed, suggest the crests of breaking
rollers with extraordinary vividness, and the roaring song
of the dancers closely reproduces the boom of the waves.
The history of the country goes back a very little
way — only as far as 1643, when Tasman discovered the
group and named it Prince William Islands. He did not
land, or make any explorations. Cook sailed within
sight of Vatoa in 1773, but did not visit any other of the
islands. Bligh, after the mutiny of the Bounty, in 1789,
passed Moala during his wonderful boat voyage to Timor,
and in 1792 returned in the Providence, and made some
observations. In spite of these visits, however, and in
spite of the fact that a number of Australian convicts
escaped up to the islands about 1802, they remained
almost unknown until D'Urville, in the Astrolabe, made
a rather brief exploring tour in 1827, and constructed
the first chart. Captain Bethune in 1838, the United
States Exploring Expedition in 1840, and a number of
British vessels afterwards, completed the survey of the
group. In 1835 the first missionaries arrived, and from
this time onward the islands began to make progress
toward civilisation. There is no need to repeat here the
story of the cannibal days in Fiji, since mission literature
has made this part of Fijian history famous all over the
world — rather too much so, as the colonist of to-day
declares. It takes a long time to uproot any fixed idea
from the mind of the slow-going British public, and
English people have not yet succeeded in realising that
the cannibal and heathen days of Fiji passed away more
than thirty years ago. To most of the home public, the
DESCRIPTIVE AND HUMOROUS
II
Fijis are still the gloomy land of mission story, or else
the "Cannibal Islands" of music-hall and nigger-minstrel
humour — a place impossible to take seriously from any
point of view, and certainly not a spot where any sane
man would either travel for pleasure or emigrate for
profit. Theirs is the loss, since the country is eminently
adapted for both.
It is enough, then, to say that in the earlier part of
the Nineteenth Century, the Fijian was the most deter-
mined cannibal known to savage history, and that
murders of the white settlers and missionaries were
frequent. By degrees, however, the untiring efforts of
the missionaries, and the influence of the settlers them-
selves, few as they were, began to make an improvement,
and in the early fifties the country was advancing rapidly
toward a better state of civilisation, when the rise into
power of the infamous King Thakombau, one of the worst
monsters of cruelty known since the days of Nero, for a
time held back the tide. Murders and massacres of the
whites increased, war among the natives was continual,
and there was small security for property. In 1855,
however, came a serious check to Thakombau's power.
The United States Government, incensed at the brutal
murder of a number of shipwrecked sailors, demanded
;^9,ooo compensation, which the savage king found him-
self quite unable to pay. He offered to cede the islands
to Great Britain in 1858, on the condition that the in-
demnity should be taken over with the country and
settled for him. England, as it happened, did not think
that a fine colony right in the middle of the Pacific trade
routes was worth buying at the cost of a decent country-
house in the shires; so the offer was refused, and the
richest prize in the South Seas went begging for more
than sixteen years longer.
12 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
The American Civil War proved the importance of
Fiji's cotton industry, and was the cause of a sudden
increase in the number of respectable settlers. Danger-
ous as the country still was, many families pluckily
emigrated from Australia, took up waste lands, and began
to make money rapidly. Some of them, it seems, thought
that war and war prices would last for ever, since they
lived splendidly on what they made, put down more and
more cotton, and made no provision for the reaction that
was bound to come. When it did arrive, many were
ruined. Some left the colony, others lingered on, half-
heartedly trying one kind of occupation after another,
and failing in all. It is the remnant of these, and in many
cases their children, who are the drag upon the wheel of
the country to-day. They are the failure element, the
unfit, the inefficient, and with the later importations of
ne'er-do-wells, from which no colony is free, they make
up an element of continual discontent and pessimism,
not only discouraging to the enterprising new-comer,
but actually hostile to him, in some cases, and bitterly
envious of his progress.
The successes among the early emigrants, on the
other hand, have in many cases done extremely well,
acquired large properties, and formed the beginning of a
native white population of the most desirable kind.
Cotton-growing has long been dead in Fiji, but sugar,
copra and other products have taken its place, and the
children and grandchildren of the early settlers are in
many cases quite as prosperous as their adventurous
forefathers.
To return to the days of the American War and
shortly after. A second check now came upon Thakom-
bau's power. The warlike tribes of Tonga, a neighbour-
ing group that had always been a rival of Fiji, began to
DESCRIPTIVE AND HUMOROUS 13
give serious trouble. Maafu, a powerful chief, invaded
the Fiji Islands, and it seemed as if a Tongan conquest
were imminent. Thakombau, in alarm, called the whites
to his aid, and arranged a constitutional government to
support his waning power. It was to be carried out by
white officials and ministers under himself as King, and
would, he hoped, enable him to keep his country out of
the hands of Tonga, without making any costly
concessions.
The hope proved vain. After two years (187 1 to
1873), "th^ mixed government broke down completely,
and the King and his chiefs saw themselves confronted
with a choice of two evils — to be conquered by Tonga,
or to give up the country to Britain. They chose the
latter, as the smaller evil, and in 1874 offered Fiji uncon-
ditionally to England.
England accepted the gift, and Fiji thenceforth
became a Crown Colony. From 1874 onward there is
little history to relate. History means trouble, and
Fiji's troubles were over. Thakombau, retired on a
good salary, and given enough royal honour to make
him happy and content, ceased to annoy. He became
a Christian, at all events nominally, and died, a good
deal more peaceably than he deserved, in 1883. The
missionaries, Catholic and Protestant, had succeeded
in Christianising the greater part of Fiji before the annex-
ation, and the rest followed soon after. White settlers
increased, Indian labour was largely imported to work
the plantations, as the natives of the islands did not care
to engage; trade developed; a new town — Suva — was
built, and took the place of the older chief town, Levuka,
as capital of the group. A succession of British
Governors, beginning with Sir Hercules Robinson, did
their best to develop the country and improve the
14 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
condition of the natives. In some cases their efforts were
more well-meaning than wise, and left a melancholy
legacy of mistakes for their successors to improve away,
but, on the whole Fiji has been fortunate in her rulers.
The Governor of Fiji is also High Commissioner of
the Western Pacific, holding jurisdiction over all British
owned and protected groups in those seas, and also over
British subjects living in groups owned by other countries,
or not owned at all. These powers are by no means
nominal; the position, indeed, is one of highest respon-
sibility, and the cause of law and order in the islands
generally has benefited much since the strong hand of
British authority has extended its powers so far.
The Governor is assisted by an executive council of
five, and a legislative council of twelve, six of whom are
unofficial members elected by popular vote. The natives
are governed through their chiefs, who are appointed by
the Governor. There are several degrees of official chief,
the smallest being the chief of a town called the Turango
ni Koro. Over each district is a superior chief, with con-
siderable power, called a Mbuli, and the whole country is
divided into sixteen provinces, fourteen of which are
ruled over by native chiefs who rank for the most part
as princes, and are called "Roko Tui." The remaining
two are under the control of British magistrates. The
chief of one province (Kandavu), is the grandson of
Thakombau, and would be King of Fiji were the country
not the property of Great Britain. He is quite contented,
however, being very well off, and held in considerable
honour by natives and whites. He is the only one of
the chiefs who habitually wears European dress; the
others preferring the national kilt or "sulu," worn with
a shirt, and without shoes.
The present Governor, Sir Eveiard im Thurn, C.B.,
DESCRIPTIVE AND HUMOROUS 15
K.C.M.G., came into office in 1904. Although his
time has been short, it has been long enough to prove
that in him the islands have the ablest ruler they have
yet enjoyed. Much has been done to improve the con-
dition of the lower-class natives and repress the occasional
exactions of the chiefs. Public works have been under-
taken, obsolete laws removed, and representation in
council granted to the planters. The vexatious ancient
system of land-tenure, which was complicated and un-
satisfactory, and a serious bar to settlement, has been
reformed, and many minor improvements made, under
circumstances difficult enough to excuse most rulers from
attempting any reform at all. Fiji certainly owes much
to Sir Everard im Thurn. Nor must the influence in
the colony of Lady im Thurn pass without notice. There
has never been a more popular governor's wife in Fiji
than this exceptionally cultured and charming lady, who
has so far identified herself with the interests of her South
Sea home that she has even acquired the Fijian language,
and speaks fluently to the native dignitaries in their own
tongue when chiefs are entertained at Government House.
The decline of the native population is a matter that
has occupied the attention of many governors, but so far
it continues unchecked. It is not as serious as the fall
that has taken place in the Cook Islands and other
British dependencies, but nevertheless the numbers of
the people, no matter what is done to ensure good hygiene
in the villages, and to preserve infant life, fall by some
hundreds every year. The 1901 census gave the follow-
ing result for the entire colony, including the outlying
island of Rotumah: Europeans, 2549; half-castes, 15 16;
Indian coolies, 1 7, 105 ; islanders from other Pacific groups,
1950; miscellaneous, 457; Fijians, 96,631. Total, 120,128.
The reasons suggested for the decline are many —
i6 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
introduction of European diseases, increase of chest
troubles owing to the wearing of clothes, over-indulgence
in tobacco (especially in the case of nursing mothers),
improper feeding of infants, &c., &c. No one, as a
matter of fact, really knows why almost every Pacific
race dies out by degrees through contact with the white,
and certainly no one knows how to stop the decline. The
causes do not lie so near the surface as might be supposed.
Here and there, all over the Pacific, one meets with a
stray island — sometimes part of a rapidly declining group
— in which the population is more than holding its own,
without any apparent reason. Niu6 is one example,
Mangaia is another, and it has been claimed that the
Tongan people are not diminishing, though satisfactory
proof of this is not at present to be had. In any case,
Fiji is not among the lucky nations, and so far has the
population declined even since the cannibal days, that
large tracts of fertile land are lying waste and uninhabited
in many parts of the group. Some of this is being taken
up, with the assistance and encouragement of the Govern-
ment, by those Indian coolies who do not take advantage
of the free return passage at the end of the five years for
which they are engaged to work in the plantations. The
Indians make industrious cultivators and good subjects on
the whole, and as they mcrease very rapidly, the time
cannot be many generations removed when an Indian
population will have replaced altogether the dying-out
Fijian race. It may yet happen, however, that science
will find some means of arresting the decay, and that one
of the finest coloured races in the world will be saved from
an extinction which every colonist and traveller would
deeply regret. The Fijians themselves are, unfortunately,
quite indifferent about the matter.
The trade of Fiji is by no means a negligible quantity.
1 I !1 \\ CHII-I -- ARMKIi \A i
V BEHIXD
FIJIAN CHIEF
ARMED NATIVE CONSTABULARY
DESCRIPTIVE AND HUMOROUS 17
The value of the yearly exports amounts to well over half
a million annually, and the imports are nearly as much.
Sugar is the most important product. The Colonial
Sugar Refining Company owns much of the good river-flat
country, and employs quite an army of employees of all
kinds, apart from the thousands of imported Indian
labourers who cultivate the land. A good many inde-
pendent planters cultivate cane for the company at a
fixed price, and seem to do well on the proceeds. Bananas
are largely grown, and exported for the most part to
Australia. Peanuts have been tried lately, with some
success. Tea and coffee are both grown, but do not
usually attain to the best quality. Copra (the dried meat
of the cocoanut) is a very important article of commerce,
and many planters have done extremely well with it.
Stock-raising is carried on with considerable success in
Taviuni, about Ba, and other parts of the colony. There
are a number of minor industries and products which are
still more or less on trial, among them vanilla and drugs
of many kinds. The timber industry is important.
And now, having been serious for so long, we may
look for a little amusement. We have not yet finished
our study of Fijian social and economic conditions, but
we can find all the humour we require without going
outside it. Is there not the penal system still to consider?
Certainly, at home, one does not look for delicate humour
inside the walls of a jail, or expect practical jokes in the
shape of a convict system. In topsy-turvy Fiji, how-
ever, the whole penal apparatus is one gigantic jest, and
is regarded as such by most of the whites, and not a few
of the natives.
To begin with, there is hardly any real crime, what
there is being furnished chiefly by the Indian labourers
i8 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
employed on the estates of the Colonial Sugar Refining
Company. The Fijians themselves, though less than
two generations removed from the wild and wicked days
of the Thakombau reign, are an extremely peaceable
and good-natured set of people. In the fifties and
sixties, and even later, murder, torture and cannibalism
were the chief diversions of a Fijian's life, and the power
of working one's self into a more violent and unrestrained
fit of rage than any one else of one's acquaintance was an
elegant and much-sought-after accomplishment. This
change, effected largely by the work of the missionaries,
but also by the civilising influences of the British Govern-
ment, and of planters and traders innumerable, is most
notable. Nothing can be more amiable and good-natured
than the Fijian of to-day; no coloured citizen in all the
circle of the British Colonies is less inclined to crime.
Yet the great jail in Suva, and the various smaller ones
dotted about among the country police-stations, are
always well filled; for the Fijian, being naturally rather
thick-headed, manages, in spite of all his amiability, to
run up against the British Constitution every now and
then. There are laws for his guidance and restraint that
do not exactly please him; and, as he cheerfully drives
a coach-and-six, or its Fijian equivalent, right through
them whenever he feels inclined, it follows that an inter-
lude of jail is an extremely common incident in Fijian life.
" What are most of the prisoners in jail for? " I asked
a government official one day.
"Saying 'Boo!' to a Buli," he replied; "that's about
the commonest crime. You see, no Fijian is allowed
to leave his village without the permission of the Buli, or
chief of the district."
"What on earth for?"
"Well, the idea is that the village can't get on with-
SUGAR BOATS, REVVA RIVER
A FIJIAN JAIL
DESCRIPTIVE AND HUMOROUS 19
out him. But sometimes he goes off without leave, and
when the BuU sends for him to come back, he tells him
to go and put his head in a bag — or words to that effect.
So then the Buli has him arrested by the native police,
and taken to Suva for trial and imprisonment. That is
the law."
"Aren't there any other offences?"
"Oh, yes. Sometimes they don't pay their taxes,
which have to be paid in kind, to encourage industry:
so much tobacco, or maize, or timber, or what not. Then
it's jail again. And sometimes they run away when
they have entered into a contract to stay a certain
time working at a special place. And just now
and then — though very seldom — some man hits another
over the head with a club for running away with
his girl; so there's another case. One way and another,
the jails are kept at work."
"Well, it seems to me cruel and tyrannical to make
convicts of the poor Fijians for such trifles."
" Oh, is it ? You wait and see ! ' '
I did. I saw. And I felt, on the whole, that my
sentimental pity was wasted.
The jail in Suva is a most imposing place. It presents
a fine stone w^all of considerable height to the view of
the visitor coming up the road ; and there is a great gate,
and a small door to come in by, quite like a European
jail. But when you have got inside, and begun to notice
the buildings scattered about the courtyard — dormitories,
solitary cells, cook-houses, and what not — it comes upon
you with something of a shock that the imposing wall is
nothing, after all, but a joke — one of the many jokes of
the wonderful Fijian penal system. It extends round
only three sides of the grounds, leaving the back com-
pletely open to the bush and the hills — as if the whole
20 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
establishment were a toy to be set on the mantelshelf,
and looked at only from the front.
"What on earth is that wall for?" I asked, in a
state of stupefaction.
"To look pretty. Don't you think it looks pretty?"
solicitously asked the friend who was accompanying me.
"Do they never run away?"
"Hardly ever, and if they do, they generally come
back."
"Why do they stay, when they needn't?"
" Well, I think, because they rather like being in jail!"
This statement seemed almost too much to swallow
at one time, but I found out afterward it was very near
the truth. The Fijian attaches no disgrace whatever
to being in jail; indeed, it would be hard for him to do so,
since the larger proportion of his acquaintance have
passed through that experience at one time or another.
He regards it as a slight inconvenience; an interruption
to his occupations at home, largely compensated, how-
ever, by the delights of a trip on a steamer down to
Suva, and a sight of the busy capital. Furthermore, he
is sure to find plenty of old friends in the jail, and they
welcome him joyfully.
"A-wa-we! Reubeni, is that you? Well, well, I'm
glad to see you. Here, Wiliami, Lomai, Volavola!
Here's Reubeni from Thakandrove! Come along, Reu-
beni, we're just going to supper. Why, you've come
at a splendid time; most of us are gardening at the
Kovana's (Governor's), and there's going to be a big
festival in the grounds to-morrow, and a tug-of-war.
You've never been to Suva, have you? No — well, it's
a fine place, and very gay just now. I hope you'll enjoy
your stay."
This, or something like it, spoken in Fijian, is the
DESCRIPTIVE AND HUMOROUS 21
prisoner's welcome to the jail. He is lodged In a building
fitted up with long shelves, on which he sleeps very
comfortably, and is looked after by a warder belonging
to the Armed Native Constabulary, who usually acts as
a sort of general servant to the prisoners, preparing
their food for them, and making himself universally
handy. In the morning, refreshed and inspirited by a
meal considerably better than anything he gets at home,
the convict starts out with a group of friends, in charge
of a warder, to the place where he is assigned to work.
Probably he has been put on hard labour, but — unless
there is any roadmaking or building to be done — the
labour available is not very exhausting. The grass
edgings and lawns of the town want a good deal of trim-
ming, so the convict probably has a knife handed over
to him, with a sharp, heavy blade, two feet long, and
squats down on the grass by the border of the main
street, to hack and trim at his ease all day. Perhaps
his neighbour is a friend from home, sent to jail for break-
ing a labour contract; perhaps it is an Indian who has
killed a Sugar Company overseer, and cut him into little
bits. In any case, they squat side by side, dressed alike
in neat shirts and "salus" of unbleached calico stamped
over with broad arrows, working away in as leisurely
a manner as possible, and thoroughly enjoying the gay
sight presented by the busy main street. . . . There
is a steamer in to-day; the pavement is dotted with
tourists — British, American, Colonial — armed with guide-
books and cameras and the totally unnecessary pugaree
that the travelling Briton loves to deck himself withal.
The tourists look at the convicts and their knives appre-
hensively. Reubeni is a mountain lad, and his hair is
very wild and long, and his teeth are big and sharp, and
he looks cannibal every inch, though in reality he
22 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
is as mild as milk, and the light of the local Sunday-
school. . . .
"James! James!" vociferates a lady tourist, fat
and elderly and nervous. " Why did you not bring your
revolver on shore with you, as I told you? I am sure
these savages are most dangerous — and the road is
literally full of convict murderers and thieves, all armed
with daggers! Do let us go back to the steamer!"
But perhaps Reubeni has some other variety of "hard
labour" assigned to him. The Government Ofifice up
on the hill — a great bee-hive of red-roofed buildings,
full of rooms and "departments" — needs a good many
messengers, and all day long one may see stalwart,
jolly-looking Fijians in broad-arrowed suits loafing
agreeably on the shady verandas, or strolling about the
town, conveying letters to Government House, or the
Commandant of the Forces, or the Club, or the Bank.
Every letter means a pleasant "yarn" with the house-
servants, and perhaps a lump of cold yam, or a bit of
tinned meat, out of the kitchen, while the answer is being
written. There may be money to send to, or from, the
Bank, or from one department to another. The convict
carries it, gets a receipt, and brings it back again. His
acquaintances among the white people recognise him
pleasantly as he passes.
" Well, Reubeni, you up here ! What are you in for ? "
"Not paying taxes, saka (sir)."
"That's very wicked of you. you won't go to Heaven
if you don't pay your taxes, you lazy beggar. Is this
your first time?"
""Eo, saka (Yes, sir). I have never been in the
King's service before." (Fijian term for being in jail).
"How do you like it?"
" It is not a bad service, saka, we have plenty to eat."
DESCRIPTIVE AND HUMOROUS 23
"Well, look me up when your time is out, if you'd
like to engage in Suva; I want a house-boy."
"Savinaka, saka (Very good, sir). I will come; I
think your service will be quite as good as the jail, saka."
One of the pet jokes of Suva is the home-going of
Reubeni and his kind, every evening a little before six
o'clock. The gates of the jail are closed at six, and a
few minutes earlier gangs of prisoners can be seen col-
lecting from every part of the town — some under the
care of a warder, but many alone — all hurrying anxiously
toward the jail. As the hour draws nearer, they hurry
more and more, and many begin to run, with anxiety
painted plain on their copper countenances. If they are
not in at six o'clock, a terrible punishment awaits them —
a punishment they would do anything to avoid. Dis-
cipline must be kept up, and there is no mercy for the
prisoner who neglects the closing hour.
What happens to him?
He is shut out of jail.
No supper for him — an unspeakable calamity this —
no evening gossip, no bed Until to-morrow he is an
outcast without a home. You may see him, perhaps>
if you drive past the jail a little after sunset, crouching
low on the threshold of the gateway, wiping his tearful
eyes with the hem of his broad-arrowed "sulu," and
presenting an excellent living picture of the famous line:
"Oh, who would inhabit this cold world alone?"
Poor Fijian!
I was staying with the resident magistrate in one of
the Vanua Levu districts during my subsequent totir,
and, hearing that there was a vanilla plantation some
eight miles away, asked if I could go and see it.
24 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
"Oh, certainly," said my host. "You can go on
a truck down the company's tram-line — they allow all
the white residents to use it — and I'll send a couple of
convicts with you, as I can't go myself to-day!"
The convicts w^ere produced — a pair of sleepy, wild-
haired Fijians, in jail clothing — and the magistrate told
them to push the truck for me dow^n to the plantation,
and wait till I came back to it.
"Savinaka, saka," they replied, saluting in military
fashion, and off we set — myself in a kitchen chair perched
somewhat perilously upon a flat, edgeless truck, the
convicts standing one each side of me, also upon the
truck, and "putting" it along with poles. They kept
up an astonishing pace along the eight miles of line,
being in excellent spirits over their job, which certainly
was pleasanter than the monotonous rice-husking on
which they had been at work. I should have preferred
their being a little less happy, however, if it had made
them a little less reckless, for they punted the crazy
vehicle along at fifteen miles an hour round every curve,
and chanced the meeting or overtaking of anything else;
the result of which was that, on one occasion, we swept
round a corner "full bat" toward an advancing truck
occupied by eight Indians going up to the settlement
we had just left. It was a single line, and destruction
seemed imminent; however, the Indians, seeing a "mem-
sahib" on the truck that was roaring down upon them
like a devouring lion, leaped wildly from their seats, and
contrived by unearthly efforts to overset their own
vehicle off the line into the ditch alongside, where it
lay with its whirling wheels turned up to Heaven, look-
ing extremely like a helpless, overturned beetle, as w^e
rushed wildly past.
Arrived at the plantation, the convicts sat down on
DESCRIPTIVE AND HUMOROUS 25
the truck, and feasted on biscuits and tinned salmon
which I bought for them at the store (having been
solemnly warned by the Government of Fiji not to dare
to give them money). I spent an hour or two in the
plantation, and returned when I was ready. The jail-
birds, who could, of course, have run away a hundred
times over if they had felt like it, were asleep in the shade,
waiting my pleasure. We spun merrily home again, and
at the foot of the hill leading to the house my tw^o con-
victs delivered me back safely to my host, and I delivered
them back to the same person. Whether they were in
charge of me for the day, or I of them, is a problem that
I have not yet been able to solve, even with the aid of
mathematics, because, if things that are equal to the same
thing are equal to one another, and if the convicts were
equal to taking charge of me and I was equal to taking
charge of them, then we were equal to each other — which
means either that they were English lady travellers or
that I was a Fijian convict; and both solutions seem
unsatisfactory somehow.
One other form of hard labour inflicted on the Fijian
convict is worth noting. The mails from Suva are
frequently carried up-country, to distances of forty or
fifty miles, by convict letter-carriers! They journey
alone, always come back as nearly up to time as a Fijian
can, and evidently see nothing anomalous in the fact of
being thus made their own jailors.
One might have a worse billet, in a hard and mis-
trustful world, than that of a Fijian convict.
CHAPTER II
ON THE TRAIL
Garden of the Swiss Family Robinson — Over the Hills and
Far Away — The Pandanus Prairies — Fijian Luggage
— The Curse of the Spotted Bun — A Tropical Forest —
Benighted on the Way
WHEN I had driven up to the top of the Flag-staff
hill in Suva, gone to see the Botanic Gardens,
boated up the Tamavua River, looked at Thak-
ombau's monument, exhausted the attractions of the
curio shops, and seen something of Suva society (which
is tiresomely like society at home, though so hospitable
and kindly that one must forgive it), somebody very
kindly told me about the plantations on the other side
of the harbour, and thereby started me on a quest after
information spiced with amusement that lasted the better
part of six months, and gave me what was, on the whole,
the second-best, if not the best, time of all my life.
The sail over to the plantation was a journey of
exquisite loveliness, for Suva Harbour is famous even
among the countless beautiful harbours of the wonderful
South Sea world. But it did not interest me very much
on the return journey. I had been seeing and hearing
things that made me think.
There seemed to be nothing that did not grow in the
place I had been seeing. Unkindly discredit has been cast
on the dear old " Swiss Family Robinson" and its remark-
ably catholic list of fauna and flora : vet it appeared to me,
27
28 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
walking about the plantation — a mere private experiment,
unsupported by much capital — that I had stepped right
back into childhood and the pages of that marvellous
book. Bananas, oranges and pine-apples were, of course,
as common as dust. Allspice dangled on one green bough,
fat red chillies on another. Turmeric, excellent for
curries ; fragrant limes, delicate vanilla, croton and castor
oils, ramie fibre, erythroxylon coca (where the cocaine
comes from), gum arabic, sisal hemp, cassia, teak. West
India arrowroot, cloves, annatto, areca-nut palms, ginger,
cocoa, papya, and a whole regiment of other useful or
pleasant things, "flourished" (as the early Victorian
novels used to say) " in the richest luxuriance." And all
these plants, without exception, had been proved to do
exceptionally well in Fiji. Many of them grew wild all
over the country; others, imported (such as cocoa, all-
spice and vanilla), had produced seeds and beans of a
quality surpassing anything else in the markets of the
world. Withal, there were tens of thousands of acres all
over the islands unused and unoccupied; white settlers
and planters seldom or never came to try their luck, and
the resources of this, the richest of all the rich Pacific
archipelagoes, was not one-hundredth part developed.
As to the reason of this, Suva, the European capital,
could offer me no suggestion, except the old, familiar
statement that no one had ever tried these things, and,
therefore, no one ever ought. A few Government officials,
primed with figures that looked extremely useful, and,
somehow, weren't, gave me quantities of information
that left the matter just where it was before. It is a
strange fact, and one I cannot explain, though I have
often noted it, that Government information seems to
lose much of its vitality in the canning process. It is
like canned butter or meat correct in weight, good to
ON THE TRAIL 29
look at, of excellent material, and yet, somehow, unsatis-
fying in the end.
So it came about that I made a resolve, and kept
to it, in spite of the objections of Suva — Suva, which
was clearly convinced, first, that I could not; secondly,
that I ought not ; and thirdly, that I should find it use-
less— to go through the interior of the islands myself and
see just what the native and his life were like, and of
what value the country still might be to possible settlers.
One or two white women, accompanied by Europeans,
had seen a little of the native country in recent years;
but none had gone very far, and certainly none had ever
travelled alone, I was told. Were the natives cannibal
now? Certainly not; cannibalism was as dead in the Fijis
as painting with woad in England. Were they rude to
strangers? By no means; they were the soul of hospi-
tality. But the sum of objection remained the same —
the objectors, who had never been ten miles from Suva
themselves, maintaining that "it was too rough."
One can always find the man who really knows, if
one takes time. I found him — a Government dignitary
of brisk and authoritative presence, energetic to the ends
of his smartly trained moustache, learned in the ways of
wild countries, and (strange to say) knowing not a little
of the country he was engaged in helping to govern. He
did not feed me with statistics, but came down at once
to fact.
" Rough? Yes, but not too much so," he said. " Cer-
tainly, go if you fancy it; you'll have a royal time. The
natives are capital fellows; they'll make a queen of you
everywhere you go, and you'll see some of the finest
scenery in the world. Firearms? Well, you might as
well have a Colt with you, as not; it's eas^ tc carry —
but you won't need it. . . . No trouble at all.
30 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
Anything else that I can do? . . . Well, good-bye,
and good luck!"
Then came the delightful preparations. I had never
been "off the road" before, and everything that had to
be bought was an added prophecy of enjoyment. The
side-saddle, the leather saddle-bags for small articles,
the minute steel trunk, two feet by one, for all my clothes ;
the mosquito-net and oilcloth-covered pillow, the tin
billy for tea-making, tin cups and saucers, common knife
and fork and spoon, common canvas shoes for rough
walking, parcels of ship's biscuits, tinned meat, tea and
sugar and salt — all spoke eloquently of freedom, and the
"call of the road," and long, bright days under the open
sky. And when I had engaged a time-expired native
soldier of the Governor's armed constabulary force to act
as interpreter and courier, and picked up a couple of
carriers at Ba, the " jumping-off place " into the unknown,
I was absolutely inflated with pride, and felt that Stanley,
Burton and Speke were not to be named with myself.
It would, of course, have been possible to walk
throughout the trip. But Fiji lies between the fifteenth
and twenty-first parallels of south latitude, and its hot
season is no trifle. By riding, I could cover twenty to
thirty miles daily of rough mountain bridle-tracks (there
being no roads in the interior) without suffering from the
heat, or feeling any fatigue, whereas the same amount
of walking, in a tropical climate, would have been tiring
and extremely hot. As for the men, forty miles a day
would not have exceeded their powers ; they were always
on the heels of my horse, burdened though they were;
and they travelled with a long, slow, wolf -like stride that
never slacked or altered, up hill or down, no matter what
the heat might be, or how sharply the rough track inclined.
Ba, the last fortress of civilisation on the northern
mJ^.
J^".--^'
^^i?*^
■4m
ON THE TRAIL 31
side of the great highland region I was to cross, is a half-
Fijian, half-European town; very hot in the burning days
of March, very much plagued with flies, fairly pretty, and
inordinately devoted to the interests of the great Sugar
Company. There is no escaping the Colonial Sugar
Refining Company in Fiji, save in the far interior. Thou-
sands of acres are covered with the beautiful verdigris-
green of the growing canes ; hundreds of the white popu-
lation are employed as overseers, mechanics, clerks and
managers on the various estates, while, as for the Indian,
Polynesian and Fijian labourers, they form a very large
item indeed in the census returns of the islands. I have
not the least doubt that the original pioneers of this
enormously wealthy company were met with exactly
the same cold-water-bucket comments and remonstrances
as the smaller would-be planters of to-day. The "oldest
inhabitant" (who is just as unbearable a nuisance in Fiji
as in any English shire) must certainly have told them
that sugar had never been grown in the Fijis, therefore
never could be; that the cotton industry had failed be-
cause of the close of the American Civil War, and, on that
account, all planters who planted anything would cer-
tainly be ruined; and that there was no possible market
for sugar, if they did succeed in growing it. Also, that
the oldest inhabitant had lived % years in Fiji, and you
couldn't teach him anything (which was painfully true).
The "C. S. R. " has drawn its hundreds of thousands
out of Fiji for many years now; but the oldest inhabitant
is not a whit abashed. He had been rampant in Suva;
he was genuinely distressed at my leaving Ba for the
mountains. There was only wild bush and barren rock
there, he said; I had better go back to Suva and take
drives along the Rewa Road, if I wanted to be
amused. . . .
32 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
But what mattered the oldest inhabitant, or anyone
else, to me, that splendid morning when I started off
with my three Fijians and the good Australian horse that
a kindly resident had lent me, toward the lonely country
of the brown men and women, away from w^hite faces and
white folk's unnecessary luxuries, into the wilds at last?
These first times! how one turns back to them again
and again with a glow of kindly remembrance, in the
hours when memory sits idle, feeding upon the honey-
comb of stored-up delights! The first day in a foreign
port with its strange brilliancy of light and colour, and
music of Southern tongues — never so bright, never so
musical again — the first night in the tropics under the
silvered palms and the purple, w^arm-breasted sky — above
all, the first day in the real wilds, alone with flowers of an
alien race, whose presence scarcely breaks the solitude;
the whole responsibility of the expedition lying upon
one's own single pair of shoulders and the certainty of new
experiences, adventures, perhaps even dangers, making
strange music upon chords that have^ lain untouched
through all a lifetime — such first times possess a fresh-
ness and a keen delight of their own, as perfect as first
love itself.
The weather was faultless, although the sun beat hotly
on the unprotected track. Fiji has one of the few really
satisfactory tropical climates of the world. Its hot season
is never too hot to allow of travelling in the middle of the
day, and its cool season is no warmer than an English
summer. It is true that in February, the month when
I commenced my travels, the power of the sun is almost
alarming; but sunstroke is practically unknown in the
islands, and I rode all day w4th perfect safety, protecting
myself from the scorching rays by a grass hat and a hol-
land coat, worn over my thin cotton blouse. This is
5^^^.
A MOUNTAi:, ilwl.L
ON THE TRAIL 33
quite necessary for riding in the hot season; without a
coat, one feels as though the flesh of one's neck, arms and
shoulders would soon begin to crackle and cook.
But the molten-gold glory of the searching sun at
high noon — the minute, photographic clearness of the
"thousand shadowy pencilled valleys" on the far horizon
hills — the fulness of light and life poured out by those
blinding rays that strike down through the slender bush
foliage as through glass, and bleach the very colour out
of the shadeless, quivering sky — these things, to the
traveller from the dim gray north, are worth all the heat
and glare, destruction of hands and skin, that must be
encountered. Enough sun, enough light, a royal pro-
fusion of God's most glorious gift; clear air like crystal;
a far-reaching sweep of silent, sunny prairie-land; the
warm wind in the feathered guinea-grass; the long,
unknown track winding ahead into the heart of wild,
battlemented, purple hills — this was the beginning of my
hundred miles' march through the great island. A happy
augury of happy days to come.
There is nothing under the northern star quite so
quaint, so weird and witch-like, as the pandanus prairies
of Fiji. The pandanus, or screw-pine, is an unnatural-
looking plant at the best, even when young and tender.
It begins its life in a most extraordinary screw-like shape,
looking much as though some malicious hand had seized
its long sword-like leaves, and twisted them round and
round. Later, it straightens out, and grows a number
of tall wooden stilts, on which it stands, firmly sup-
ported in all directions. Its foliage now consists of a
number of drooping mops, inexpressibly mournful and
depressed-looking. Among these mops hangs the fruit,
very like a pine-apple, but not eatable (for Europeans),
being made up of a number of hard red and yellow kernels,
34 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
woody and fibrous in structure. It is, all in all, a most
decadent-looking thing, strongly suggestive of the
eighteen-nineties and Aubrey Beardsley — who, it is true,
did not know or draw the pandanus, but who certainly
ought to have been acquainted with such a kindred spirit
of the vegetable kingdom.
All the hot morning I rode over rolling uplands of
pandanus prairie, the air growing cooler as the heights
increased, the threatening, dark hill-ranges still barring
the sky in front. The men, striding tirelessly along in
the rear, caught up with the horse every time I stopped
to walk. They were a dandy trio, my three Fiji-men:
neatly dressed in white singlets and coloured cashmere
"sulus" finished off with a smart leather belt; their
hair trained, clipped and oiled with the greatest care,
and their personal luggage tidily packed away in Fijian
trunks. A Fijian trunk is quite a curiosity in its way.
It consists simply of an oblong kerosene tin, about eigh-
teen inches by ten, cut in half lengthwise and the halves
fitted over each other after the fashion of those Japanese
travelling baskets that have become so common of late
years. Inside, the Fijian carries his clothes, his "sulus"
(a "sulu" is a piece of stuff two yards square, doubled
and fastened round the loins to form a kilt) of cotton,
cashmere, or flannel; his spare shirt or singlet, his bottle
of cocoanut oil, looking-glass and wooden comb, with
teeth six inches long, his tobacco, and all the rest of his
personal property of every kind. Contact with the white
man has not driven out the stolid common sense of the
Fiji-man, so far as to induce him to burden his life with
unnecessary possessions. Your carrier is provided for
six months with the contents of that little tin. He will
always have clean clothes and a smartly dressed head
out of its minute store of goods ; and, as for other wants,
ON THE TRAIL 35
the ever-ready bush and river supply them. A razor?
He will shave himself so clean with a chip of broken glass,
or a piece of shell, that you doubt his ever having had a
beard. A sponge? soap? tooth-brush? Green cocoanuts
supply him with an oily, juicy husk that does the work
of the first two, and as for the third, he rinses his mouth
after eating, and that is enough to keep his magnificent
teeth in repair, even if he does put them to uses (such
as tearing open tins that resist the tin-opener, and husk-
ing cocoanuts) that make the white man's grinders shiver
sympathetically in their sockets. He does not wear
shoes, even in the fullest of full dress, and the only use
for a pocket-handkerchief that he knows is to stick it in
the front of his singlet, for style. He wears a night-cap
— that is, a deep band of stuff intended to keep his mar-
vellous hair erect — but any banana-tree supplies him
with that. So finely has he cut down the superfluities
of life, that he does not even possess an inch of cotton
stuff- to tie up a chance cut with. A bit of dried leaf,
neatly tied on with banana fibre, will serve instead.
With the inexhaustible bush to draw from, he is never
at a loss.
About midday I felt hungry, and called a halt.
Gideon, my personal servant and interpreter, came up
for orders. There was a nice, shady little spot under a
big rock, and it seemed an excellent place to boil the
kettle; so I told him I would have some tea.
A Fijian's face is as plain a mirror of passing thoughts
as a child s. Gideon's dark countenance expressed
something like respectful scorn, if such an emotion were
possible, as he replied briefly:
"No water stop."
I felt first cousin to a fool, as I shook my horse
into a canter again. No water! The habits of the
36 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
hotel-living tourist had not yet been fairly shed. How
could I expect taps and filters on the Naloto Range?
Yet there was something curiously pleasant that day,
and many days after, in the dependence on Nature her-
self that was involved in just such delays and search ings.
No water for the children till Mother gave it; no lemon-
ade, till Mother threw a dozen great, gold citrons or
lemons out of her storehouse into their hands; no rope
to tie up the bundles, if Mother's store of slender tough
lianas was not at hand ; no lantern for the dark, if she had
not lit up the moon in time.
I was meditating thus, on the bank of a glassy little
stream, half an hour later, when the boys discovered
that nobody had got any matches for the fire ; and down
I came with a run. I did not feel like Stanley now.
Stanley would certainly have remembered the matches,
nor would he have forgotten to carry water, even if he
had omitted from his outfit the bag of spotted buns with
w^hich the last trader I had visited had successfully
tempted me. I did not feel that I ought to have had
those buns. It was not like an explorer; it was sure to
bring bad luck. And now there were no matches.
But Joni had got astride a bamboo that was lying
on the ground, and begun hacking at it with his knife,
carving a small, deep groove in its flinty surface, and
carefully shaping a splinter he had cut off from one of
the broken ends. Now Nasoni seated himself opposite,
and held down the bamboo with all his weight, while
Joni rubbed the end of the splinter violently up and
down in the groove. The exertion was great, and he
panted as he worked; but it was several minutes before
a little spire of smoke rose up from the groove, followed,
shortly after, by just a tiny petal of orange flame. Nasoni
was ready at once with a bit of crackling dried leaf ; and
JUM MAK1.\(. KIRE
A ROOT OF YAXGGOXA
ON THE TRAIL 37
in another twenty seconds the fire was blazing and the
billy was on, while the boys relaxed after their efforts,
and tumbled themselves down in the grass, in dislocated
heaps of happy laziness.
So I had really seen the famous South Sea method
of making fire by rubbing two sticks together! I had
always been rather sceptical about it, at best, and cer-
tainly did not expect to see a Twentieth-Century Fijian,
who dressed in "store" cotton stuffs, and went to church
five times on a Sunday, performing this famous savage
feat. It was my first example of a truth most thor-
oughly rubbed in by subsequent events, that the Fijian's
civilisation is only varnish-deep. Cannibalism has been
abandoned, cruelty and torture given up, an ample
amount of clothing universally adopted, yet the Fijian
of to-day, freed from the white control and example that
have moulded all his life, would spring back like an un-
strung bow to the thoughts and ways of his fathers.
This is a truth doubted by no man who knows the inner
life of Fiji.
Taking things easily, and not at all troubled by the
fact that I was not "making good time" (that malignant
fetish of the average traveller), I found myself, in the
afternoon, well up the slopes of the Naloto Range, and
entering the forest. For the best part of ten miles I
had ridden through land that was absolutely deserted;
land where the great, rolling prairies stretched like a
pale-green sea to right and left, unbroken save by the
melancholy mop-headed ghosts of the pandanus-tree.
There were no towns or houses, not so much as a stray
native padding along the track, or a patch of yam- or
taro-land, to show that the country was of use to some
one. And all the earth was thickly clothed with dense,
rich, reedy grass, six to ten feet high, excellent food for
38 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
horses, cattle or sheep — and every mile or two, tinkling
streams, or deep-voiced torrents, furrowed the heart
of the valleys. Twelve miles away there was a port with
calling steamers; three days' sail distant lay the great,
barren, populous land of New Caledonia, ready to take
any meat that fertile Fiji could send. Already, nearer
to Ba, more than one man had braved the scorn of the
oldest inhabitant by raising cattle for Fiji itself, and
accumulating a comfortable fortune. Why should these
great wastes of grass lie idle? The native owners, I knew,
were ready to let, and had given good grazing land as low
as a shilling an acre; there was no clearing required,
and no difficulty in driving stock to market. Why
should not
Gideon, who began to find the day wearisome, if not
tiring, here broke in on the current of my reflections by
gathering and presenting a splendid pink orchid, per-
fumed with a scent of such exquisite novelty and delicacy
that I could not make up my mind to throw it away,
even when it got in the way of my whip and reins. There
were large numbers of these about the edges of the track.
I could not, however, help sneering conceitedly, as the
afternoon wore on, at the want of accuracy displayed by
most travellers, in describing a tropical forest. The
"blaze of flowers" so often spoken of is not a feature of
the usual tropical bush. Every variety of green is there,
in choking, strangling luxuriance — exquisite tree-ferns
like great, green, lace parasols blown inside out; huge,
handsome trees with big, varnished leaves, or dangling
pale-green tassels a yard long; tall shaddocks, casting
down things that looked like oranges ten inches in diame-
ter, and were only a bitter delusion, nearly all rind; a
rare citron-tree or two, with rough-rinded yellow fruit;
numbers of pretty shrubs and bushes; and — tangled
ON THE TRAIL 39
through and round and under and over everything —
lianas thick and thin, brown and green, running Hke the
cordage of some gigantic saiHng-ship from airy heights
right down to the ground. This was the forest. True
there were flowers — one big tree was starred with waxy-
white, perfumed tuberoses; a handsome bush had blos-
soms like a pink-and-white azalea; another bloomed
like a meadow buttercup ; scarlet salvia lit flames in dim
green corners, and an exquisite lilac-flowered creeper
tangled itself about the borders of the track.
But all these were swallow^ed up, as it were, in the
overflowing life of leaf and tree, which shut out so much
of the burning sun above that we tramped along in a
cool green gloom. Why must the globe-trotter belittle
the very real beauty of these tropic jungles by plastering
it over with his own sensational falsehoods? It is lovely
enough, in all conscience without the non-existent
"blaze of flowers."
I was not the first to make this observation, as I
found when I returned to Suva, and read the fascinating
book of South American travel written by His Excellency
the Governor of Fiji, Sir Everard im Thurn, C.B.,
K.C.M.G. I fear I quoted the classical curse about the
people who capture our pet ideas before we secure them
ourselves, when I found my remarks anticipated in this
manner. However, the truth is a truth; let it stand.
For an hour or two the track was now so steep that
I had to walk, letting the horse scramble after me as
best he could. Then, when the sun was already setting
(for I had delayed a long time on the way, gathering
flowers and photographing), we came out into a narrow
gap that framed in a minature picture of half the island
of Viti Levu, or so it seemed. Here was the summit
of the 3,000-foot range, and somewhere in those wild.
40 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
barren hills below we must find shelter for the night,
since there was now no chance of reaching the town of
Nambukuya that day.
The men told me that there was a small village —
Nandrunga — within a couple of miles; and toward this
we made, scrambling and clattering madly down the
mountain side, to cheat the growing dark. The black,
monstrous peaks gloomed about us, sinister, strange and
evil in the gray-green dusk; the ten-foot reed-grass
waved its melancholy heads above us like funeral plumes ;
my three wild-eyed Fijians tramped silently in the rear.
Among these very peaks, and in this valley that we were
traversing, countless murders and ambushes had taken
place, and cannibal feasts been held, in the stormy
seventies. I was going to sleep in a native village, far
from any white people; I could speak hardly anything
of the language, and no white woman had ever before
ventured through these regions alone — indeed (so far as
I know), I was the first white woman who had ever
travelled through these mountains under any circum-
stances. All this, in the uncanny dusk, among these
wicked hills, fell rather coldly upon my heart; and I
resolved to sleep with my revolver under my head, when
rest and shelter should at last be reached. ... It
was absurd, dear reader, but I did not know it then.
CHAPTER III
NATIVE FOOD— A FIJIAN HOME
Night in a Fijian House — A Colossal Bed — The City of a
Dream — A Fascinating Fijian — How to Drink Yang-
gona — Wanted, a Stanley — Where are the Settlers? —
The Fairy Fortress
IN THE pitch dark, we forded a river, allowing the
horse to find his own way in and out, and at last
came up to a five-foot high palisade of thick bamboos,
surrounding a cluster of dim, tall objects that looked
more like haystacks than anything else. My men low-
ered the bars of a gate, and I rode into the village. All
was dark and silent, but the men soon routed out the
inhabitants of the biggest house, ran and looked for a
light, and succeeded in finding a ship's lantern. This
they lit, and then proceeded unceremoniously to take
possession of the house, lighting a fire in the small square
fire-pit near the door, "shooing" the sleepers out from
under their mats on the floor, and depositing my various
packages in convenient places. The inhabitants took
all this quite as a matter of course, merely asking (or so
I judged), who the marvellous apparition might be, and
then squatting down outside the doorways to stare their
fill, in stolid amazement.
While the men were making tea, and opening a tin
of meat, I looked about me with interest, examing my
quarters. The house was about thirty feet by fifteen or
twenty. There was only one room. The roof was very
41
42 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
high, and supported by a central post cut from a big
bread-fruit tree. All round the walls were pillars, or,
rather, pilasters, of similar wood, about four feet apart.
The rafters were of bamboo, the ridge-pole of bread-fruit.
Between the j)illars of the walls was fine tapestry- work of
reeds, which were laced together with black and red
sinnet (cocoanut fibre) woven in pretty patterns. The
floor was covered with a neat parquet of interlaced slips
of bamboo, hidden here and there by the sleeping-mats
of fine plaited rush or pandanus. There were three doors,
one in the gable end, and one at each side, but no win-
dows. I had been careful to enter by the side door,
being warned by Gideon not on any account to go through
the end door, which was for him and other kaisi (com-
moners), the side door being reserved for chiefs. The
outside of the house, as I saw it next morning, was very
neatly covered with reed-w^ork, the roof being deeply
thatched with dried grass. Like all mountain houses,
it stood on an earthen platform about four feet high,
faced with stones, and surrounded by a shallow ditch.
Cocoanut logs, slightly notched, formed the only means
of ascent to the doors. Not a nail was used in the whole
building, everything being laced and tied together with
sinnet.
Now some of the natives entered by the end door,
carrying small plaited cocoanut-leaf mats, on which lay
green banana-leaf platters full of baked yam. These
they placed at my feet, bowing low as they did so. I
was glad of the yams , for I knew by experience in other
islands what a satisfying food these crisp white tubers
make, and the mountain air had made us all hungry.
The natives and my men sat at a distance, watching me
eat, till I had done, and then divided the remains of the
yam, also of my tinned meat and tea, among themselves.
NATIVE FOOD— A FIJIAN HOME 43
Scrupulously just and generous they were over these
fragments of rare luxury, although the Fijian loves
tinned meat and tea as his own soul. One man would
take a bite off a small piece, then hand it on to the next;
the recipient would have a bite in his turn, and imme-
diately, with watering mouth, give the delicious morsel
to someone else, and so it circulated till finished.
It was nearly time for bed now, so my men put up
my mosquito-net on the bedplace, and told the Nandrun-
gians that only the women might remain in the house
for the night. This evidently impressed the Fijians
as the funniest idea they had ever struck; the men
cackled with laughter at the notion of anyone's object-
ing to sleep in a miscellaneous crowd of both sexes, while
the women crowed with triumph at having the wonderful
marama (lady) all to themselves. It is not often that
a Fijian woman gets a chance of making herself prom-
inent or getting the best of anything; she is simply
a drudge and a slave, as a rule, eating the leavings of
the men, doing all the hardest work, and pushed into
a corner at once, if such a rarity as a white visitor passes
through, because it is not modest for her to talk to, or
even look at, strange men, also because she is a dog,
a slave, and does not count. Now, the tables were
turned, and the utter delight with which the women
cleared the house, and ran about waiting on me after
the men were gone, was something worth seeing. They
screamed when I began to comb my hair, which was
certainly unlike their own short stiff brush, and remarked,
in a flattering tone, that it resembled the tail of a horse !
They went into hysterics of joy over all my clothes,
uttered strange savage "tck-tcks" of wonder at the
riding-gloves I hung up to dry, and told each other that
the marama wore "tarowis" on her hands, a word that
44 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
I could easily translate without a dictionary. One young
woman, shoebrush-haired, wild-eyed, and long of tooth,
caressed my arm in a passion of delight, even going so
far as to set her teeth gently in the flesh, and exclaim
longingly, "Vinaka na kakana!" (What good food!)
I knew that she was too young to have been a cannibal,
and that her exclamation was only a compliment — some-
what left-handed, it is true — to my British skin; but
the remark was interesting as an unconscious outbreak
of heredity. The young lady's parents, a fine old couple
residing in the next house, had, without any doubt at
all, enjoyed many a hearty meal of human limbs, in the
good old days, when the forearm was always considered
the choicest and tenderest bit.
A Fijian bed is a curious resting-place, but not un-
comfortable to a tired traveller. It is an immense
platform, about three feet high, occupying the whole
end of the house, and covered with six or eight layers
of clean, cream-coloured mats, edged with tufts of red
and blue wool. The foundation is made by screwing
a big log across the end of the room, and filling up the
enclosed space with close-packed grass and fern. Pillows,
made of a short section of bamboo trunk, lie about the
platform; the Fijians place them under their necks,
Japanese fashion, and protect their wonderful heads of
hair from disturbance. Fortunately for comfort, I had
my own travelling-cushion.
The women lay on the floor, and I slept well on the
big bedplace, although I felt very much as if I had
strayed into the Great Bed of Ware, and was in danger
of losing myself, and although rats, cats, bat and scut-
itering crawlies suggestive of centipedes created a sound
of revelry by night all over the excellent ballroom floor
furnished by the dais, until six o'clock thrust gray fingers
TINY TAMHALK
THE NDALO BEDS
VAXGGOXA BUSHES
NATIVE FOOD— A FIJIAN HOME 45
under the narrow doors, and waked me up. The women,
still exulting in their triumph, escorted me down to the
river, and showed me a deep, cool hole to bathe in.
While I enjoyed a dip, they sat on the bank and slapped
their hands on the rocks, beating time to a strange, hum-
ming, monotonous chorus in which they sang of my
many wonders and virtues. These impromptu addresses
in verse are very common in Fiji, and men and women
alike are most skilful in improvisation. It was rather
a novelty to take one's morning tub to the sound of a
hymn eulogising one's clothes, remote ancestors, rich
possessions of tinned meats and biscuits, and gorgeous
Turkey-cotton swimming-dress; but a tour through
the Fijis is one continual succession of humorous novel-
ties, and one soon gets used to them.
The little village looked indescribably quaint and
pretty in the slanting rays of the early sun. It num-
bered only about a dozen houses, clustered on their tidy
little green, like toys on a table. The curious stands
on which most Fijian mountain houses are perched
added to the toy-like appearance, and the immense
beehive roofs of the older buildings stood up among
the delicate young palms with the odd, almost sinister
effect that is a feature of all these lovely hill fortresses.
A strange mixture of opposing qualities, truly.
Everything was odd and new — the scanty sulus of
the men and women, worn without upper clothing,
for the most part ; the long bamboos that stood in every
house, to hold water, all the joints except the bottom
one being skilfully pierced, so as to create a very useful
water- vessel ; the big, frizzled head-dresses of the men,
so much larger than the neat, small coiffures popular
in the coast towns below. The Fijian of to-day seldom
or never dresses his hair in the enormous mop of ancient
46 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
times, for the early missionaries insisted that all their
converts should show their abandonment of heathen
ways by cutting their locks. Still, the hair of these
islanders is so extraordinarily thick, stiff and wiry, that
it can hardly be dressed after any European fashion, and
many heads may be seen in the mountains which, un-
cultivated and undressed, save for the popular bleaching
with lime to a yellow tint, display a ragged halo standing
loosely out for at least a foot round the face.
The Fijian who is careful of his hair — and most are
— does not allow it to run wild like this. It is his chief
object in life, first, to train his stiff locks to stand on end,
and secondly, to cut and trim them into the neatest
possible busby, some six inches high. At night, and
when en deshabille, he wears a compressing band, as
religiously as an East End coster-girl wears her curling-
pins. When the hair is long and erect enough, he takes
a looking-glass and scissors, gives the latter to a friend,
and holds the former himself, critically observing the
friend as he clips and shapes the dense bush with won-
derful skill. There are fashions in Fijian hair-dressing;
at present, the favourite mode is to shape the hair off
the forehead in a deep, slightly overhanging bevel,
curved sharply outward at the temples so as to make a
bush at each side of the head. The rest of the hair is
rounded off so neatly that it looks like a block of black
or yellow wood, several inches deep. Cocoanut oil,
scented with flowers, is freely used, and the men con-
stantly decorate their heads by sticking scarlet or white
flowers into them, exactly as one sticks pins into a pin-
cushion. I may here observe that Nasoni, anxious to
make an impression on the hearts of the country maidens,
turned up for the start that morning with his mahogany
bush of hair adorned with two kinds of red flowers, three
NATIVE FOOD— A FIJIAN HOME 47
kinds of white, a bunch of green-and-white ribbon-grass,
and an aigrette of fern ! It rained a httle after we started,
but Nasoni protected his elegant coiffure with a giant
taro-leaf, some four feet by three, held up unibrella-wise
by the stalk, and did not get a drop.
The rain cleared off soon, and we covered some
sixteen miles by afternoon, journeying for the most part
along the crests of narrow ridges, surrounded by a sea
of the most magnificent hill scenery in all Fiji. Never
before had I witnessed the solid lap of Mother Earth
tossed up into such a strange tumult as this. The worn-
out term "rolling mountains" exactly describes the
general appearance of the Fiji highlands, for they seem
ever about to break in colossal waves upon the valleys
and rivers below. And the colouring, the marvellous
blues — blue as hyacinths under a summer sky, blue as
sea-water lying six fathoms deep over a white coral reef,
blue as a carven cup of sapphire filled with the violet
light of sunset — what pen, what picture, can hope to
reproduce them?
For many miles there was no sign of human life, and
then, looking down from a windy crest of upland we saw
a tiny village, Tambal^, nestling far below in a deep
wooded cleft of the hills. We passed this by, but after
came upon an occasional small patch of yam or taro or
banana; and soon the dark red variegated crotons and
dracasnas, planted along the track, showed us that we
were nearing Nambukuya, the principal "town" of the
district, where the Mbuli, or local chief, had his dwelling.
I wish I could describe Nambukuya, as I saw it on
that golden afternoon, sleeping among the slanting
shadows of its rich orange-groves, in the round green
cup of a highland valley. On three sides of the little
town the hills rose up like fortress walls of purple
48 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
porphyry, but on the fourth, the lip of the cup was
broken, and through the break one saw, dim and deUcate
and shadowy pencilled, the far-off pale blue plains of half
a province lying below. . . . Surely I had seen Nam-
bukuya before, but not on this mortal earth. It was in
the strange country guarded by the " ivory gate of
dreams " that I had wandered down those shaded, scented
pathways and entered this little city of perfect rest and
silence, soundless save for the cool murmuring of the
stream that leaped right through the town in twenty
little crystal falls, shut in from all the world, save for
that one far-away glimmer of distant lands below. Every
one who has ever been young, and dreamed over a book of
poetry on some endless summer afternoon, knows of just
such a spot. Mrs. Browning's "Lost Garden," Tenny-
son's "Island Valley of Avilion" —
"Where falls not hail nor rain nor any snowj
Nor ever wind blows loudly, but it lies
Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard lawns
And bowery hollows . . . "
— the sweet, sleepy "Garden of Indolence," the solitary
mountain valleys of "Endymion" — all these I had
wandered through in the days when birthdays were far
apart, and the dream-world endlessly wide; but I never
thought to find myself, years after, in the prosaic noon-
day of life, riding a mortal horse through the actual
Fijian highlands, right into the visionary city of my
childish fancies.
All the pretty toy houses dotted about the neat little
lawns were quiet when I jumped my horse over the bars,
and entered the bamboo fence; for the people had gone
away to dig in the yam-fields, and cut bananas. Just
on my left rose, tier after tier, a strange erection of
NATIVE FOOD— A FIJIAN HOME 49
terraces, decorated with handsome, large-leaved water-
plants standing in an inch or so of clear water. From
terrace to terrace, a tiny stream slipped downward, losing
itself at last in the river below. Nasoni and Joni told me
that this really beautiful piece of landscape gardening
was a ndalo bed, where the ndalo, one of Fiji's most im-
portant roots, was grown in the slowly running water
that suited it best. Seeing that I was about to photo-
graph it, they hastily got into the middle, and struck
becoming attitudes. (I may here remark that Nasoni,
who was the biggest and very much the ugliest of my
men, was evidently the beau of the party, from the Fijian
point of view, for when we left the village a day or two
later, Gideon and Joni were allowed to go without remark,
while a plump young woman, in lilac sulu and an arsenic-
green pini, or tunic, followed Nasoni to the farthest out-
skirts of the fence, sobbing unrestrainedly, and hanging
on his apparently unconscious arm, without a shadow of
mauvaise honte. I am bound to say that Nasoni acted
exactly as if she were not there, and walked away, when
she finally loosened her clasp, without a single look or
word. Like beauty-men of other nations, he evidently
set a fair value on himself.)
Our entry into the village roused out one or two lazy
sleepers, who hurried forward in great excitement, for
word had gone on of our coming, and we were expected.
The native mission-teacher's wife was sent for, and in-
formed us that the Mbuli, or district chief, was away,
so I must come to her house. She proudly showed me
in; and, indeed, the house was an excuse for pride. Big
as a ballroom, and cool as a cave, in all that burning heat,
it had an immense floor-space of the cleanest possible mats
gaily edged with tufts of scarlet, orange, green, pink,
blue, violet, black and white wools (of European make,
50 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
these last). The great dim roof rose far overhead, un-
lighted; but the three doors that pierced the windowless
walls gave each a different view of exquisite beauty,
spread out below the lofty platform of green lawn on
which the house was built. The walls were three feet
thick, covered inside with elegant reed and sinnet-work,
and outside with a deep thatch of grass and leaves that
made the house look like an immense bird's nest. Now,
and many times after, I was struck with the common
sense shown in the design of these Fijian houses, and the
excellent way in w^hich they shut out the heat. I have
never once felt hot in a Fijian house, no matter what the
temperature outside might be, although European houses
are often oppressively warm in the hot season.
Great was the excitement when the villagers came
back, and found that the long-expected traveller was
really there. A bush town in Australia visited by an
unexpected circus may furnish a feeble parallel; or a
remote English village, upon which a black princess, with
her suite, should suddenly descend. The material fur-
nished for chatter and discussion was, of course, in-
valuable. The two great ends of a Fijian's existence are
eating and talking; he is always ready for either in
unlimited quantities. Five pounds weight of solid yam
is the minimmii allowance for a single man's meal, among
all employers of Fijian labour ; and the abnormal capacity
for eating which this suggests is fully balanced by the
appetite for talk possessed by these mighty trenchermen.
Wherever I spent a night, the greater part of the village
sat up to talk till morning. In the nearest houses I could
hear the faint buzz going on for hour after hour, as I slept
and ^voke, and slept again, and I knew that in every town
the same eager catechising of my men was going on, and
the same endless discussion of my hair, teeth, eyes, nose.
NATIVE FOOD— A FIJIAN HOME 51
blouses, ties, belts, pins, skirts, shoes, shoelaces, prob-
lematical "underneaths," manners, temper, religion, age,
history, financial position, relations, intentions, posses-
sions and characteristics of every kind, down to the
buckles on my side-saddle, and the things I had been
heard to say when I stepped on a nest of wood-centipedes.
But the folk in Nambukuya were considerate and polite,
in spite of their burning curiosity. They did not shove
or push, and when I lay down on the mats to rest, they
softly closed the doors and slipped away, one by one,
leaving me with nothing but the murmur of the high hill-
winds about the house-top for company, and gentle
twilight to encourage sleep.
Later on, came a feast — baked yam, and the great
blue roots of the ndalo, served with the inevitable mur-
dered fowl that is always given to a guest in Fiji. They
don't truss fowls in the Fiji Islands, but serve them up
with wildly divergent legs and wings, ghastly screwed
neck still decorated by the protesting head, beak wide
open and blank boiled eyes astare. After I had fed, the
Tiiranga ni Koro (head-man of the town) , came in with
a formal gift of uncooked yams and a great yanggona-
root, which he laid at my feet with an elaborate speech.
Yanggona (the "kava" of the Eastern Pacific) is the
universal drink of Fiji. It is the hard, woody root of a
handsome bush (the Piper methysticum) , which grows
freely in the mountains. The Fijians prepare the root
by grating or pounding, pour water over the pounded
mass, and strain it through a wisp of bark fibre. The
resulting drink looks like muddy water, and tastes much
the same, with a flavour of pepper and salt added. One
soon gets to like it, however; and, drunk in moderation,
it is extremely refreshing and thirst-quenching. The
Fijians do not drink moderately, I regret to say; they
52 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
often sit up all night over their yanggona, drinking until
they are stupefied and sleepy, and quite unable to walk —
for yanggona, taken in excess, paralyses the legs for an
hour or two, even though the head may be quite clear.
The British Government has forbidden the ancient
method of preparing the root, in which it was chewed and
spat out into the bowl, instead of being pounded. For
all that, yanggona is very frequently chewed at the
present day, when no white people are about.
I understood native customs sufficiently to give back
the root to the donor, with many thanks, and request
that it should be prepared for the people. We had,
therefore, a single brewing from a portion of the root,
little ceremony being made over the drinking, although
the people clapped their hands loudly at me when the
first cup was brought over to me. This is a form of
greeting used for chiefs. The Turanga ni Koro, a rather
unimportant personage, of no lofty descent, was the only
dignitary present, so the affair was necessarily informal.
In almost all the Pacific islands, kava (yanggona)
is the favourite drink of the natives. Its connection
with early religious ceremonies is obvious, since it is
generally prepared with considerable solemnity, and
according to a prescribed ritual. Women and youths
are not usually allowed to drink it.
Having finished the first bowl (which was prepared
in a tin basin, as the mission-teacher's house dare not
own a real yanggona bowl), most of the natives with-
drew to another house with the root and the bark strainer ;
and I am of opinion that they kept it up that night until
every bit of the great root, which weighed at least a
couple of stone, was finished. At all events, my men
were sleepy next morning, and infonned me, with a satis-
fied air, that Nambukuya was "plenty good place."
NATIVE FOOD— A FIJIAN HOME 53
I stayed in the little village over Sunday, and a very
interesting Sunday it was. At daybreak, the "lali," or
canoe-shaped wooden drum, was beaten, and the natives
held prayers in their own houses, first praying, and then
singing Fijian hymns — loud, determined, sonorous chants,
that sounded much more like war-songs than pious
petitions. Three times during the day they assembled in
the church (a large native house) for more praying and
singing, and again at night they held prayers in their own
houses. No work was done, except cooking yams and
killing a pig for a feast in honour of my arrival.
The women dressed themselves gaily in green, pink
and lilac tunics and sulus, the men all turned out in
spotless white sulus and shirts, with black ties. It was
evident that the religious exercises of the day were thor-
oughly to their tastes, and not at all too long. Fijians
cannot be bored, and one of their favourite occupations,
at all times, is sitting down on the mats in rows to chant
in chorus, for many hours at a stretch, about anything
and everything that may come into their heads. As for
an unlucky white person, entrapped into a Fijian church,
he must simply endure until it is over, as best he may.
He will not want to go twice.
In the afternoon, -everybody lay about on the mats,
both sexes rolling and smoking endless cigarettes made
of Fijian tobacco wrapped up in a slip of banana-leaf,
and chatting rather lazily and sleepily. There was a
smell of roasting food in the air; the shadows were
lengthening, the cool of evening coming on. What thing
that lay beyond that encircling wall of wide blue hills
could the heart of man desire? Was not this the Valley
of Peace, where no one wanted for anything, no one
quarrelled or nagged, no cold or hunger ever came, nor
fear for to-morrow, nor regret for yesterday? How
54 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
easily might one forget all the world outside, and dream
away the last years of a stormy life, cast up in this quiet
bay of nothingness and peace, out of the wild waters of
the white man's fierce existence?
But I was strong and young, and the white man's
world still called for me. And next morning, when the
sun was just lifting above the hills, and the great, green
banana leaves were crystalled all over with dew, and the
plumes of the waving guinea-grass were frosted glass and
silver, I mounted and rode away for ever. . . . Yet,
perhaps, in the gray years to come, I may find the gate
among the orange- trees once more ; may come back when
the heart is old, and the world has wearied, to rest here
in the arms of the purple hills, until the end.
One must stop somewhere in the matter of descrip-
tions ; I cannot make a pen-picture of the day's ride that
followed. Enough to say that it was very lovely, and
that my mind was almost wearied with beauty before
that thirty-mile march was ended. There were other
things to think of besides the scenery, however. The
track was mostly red clay, and slippery as greased glass.
My good Australian horse, Tan^wa, knew every inch of
the road, and civilly declined to carry me over any spot
he knew he could negotiate better without my weight.
Once, at the top of a long down-slope that looked safe
enough, I urged him on, after he had stopped. He
grunted, and went forward under protest, picking his
way carefully, for the path was but a foot or two wide,
and there was a big unprotected drop into a mountain
gorge on the off side. Suddenly, he struck a slide of red
clay, treacherously hidden by leaves. Away went his
hind legs, and, with a louder grunt than ever, he sat down
on the slope, like a horse in a circus, his forelegs squarely
planted in front, his hind hoofs tucked under the girths.
NATIVE FOOD— A FIJIAN HOME 55
Most horses would have snorted and struggled, and
probably rolled over the precipice, but Tanewa, as cool
as a green cocoanut (there are no cucumbers indigenous
to Fiji), merely turned round his head to look at me as
I sat on his uncomfortably shaped back, saying as plainly
as a horse could say it, "Who was right? I suppose you
will get off now?'' I did get off, feeling very apologetic,
and the good Australian rose deliberately to his four feet,
and pursued his way downward, quite unmoved.
By this time, word of our coming had gone round the
whole countryside, and at every village we came to the
same ceremony took place. I would jump Tanewa over
the pig-bars, and cross the green, desirous only of getting
away (for the path invariably led right through the
villages). The Turanga ni Koro, in a clean white shirt
and sulu, would rush out at the sound of hoofs, and waylay
my men. Then Gideon, all one grin, would approach me,
and begin:
"Missi Ngrims'aw!"
"Yes?"
"Turanga ni Koro, he say toa (fowl) an' yam in the
pire, pish he cook. He like you stop, ki-ki (eat)."
Then the Turanga ni Koro would proudly lead the
way to his house, instal me on a new mat, specially
unrolled, and enjoy a good gossip with my men. Enter
the murdered fowl, and the inevitable yam; perhaps a
steaming leaf-full of plump river-prawns as well. I
would cut a small piece off the fowl, and eat it for man-
ners' sake, while my men, after I had done, would joyfully
rend the remains limb from limb, and devour every bit, not
to speak of a trifle of five or six pounds of yam apiece.
Then I would make a small present, for courtesy's sake,
and call a fresh start. After four feasts (counting the
morning meal at Nambukuya), I began to reflect that
56 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
neither Stanley, Burton, nor Speke would have allowed his
men to make themselves sick with over-eating (for even a
Fijian can eat himself sick on animal food, which he does
not often get), and I resolved to put a stop to it. I
wished very much, however, that Stanley had been around
to tell me how to do it. I had an idea that he generally
hanged his followers when they disobeyed him, but I had
never hanged any one, or even seen it done, which was
certainly a difficulty in the way. There is nothing like
travel in rough countries for teaching you your own
deficiencies, as I had already learned. I could write
Latin verses, but I couldn't make bread — I could em-
broider on silk and canvas, but I didn't know how to
grease my boots properly — and here was another simple
thing, just the hanging of a Fijian, that I could not do,
either. I felt it was like something in "Sandford and
Merton" — something with a moral to it — but could not
quite remember what.
Under the circumstances, the best thing to do seemed
simply to decline to stop at any more villages, and I did,
though the disappointed faces of the villagers I left
behind me almost shook my resolution. The plan
seemed to be working all right, and I was getting rapidly
on toward the Singatoka Valley, when, a mile or so after
we had crossed a river, where a party of natives were
cooking yams on the bank, I missed Joni and Nasoni.
"Where are those men?" I demanded sternly.
Gideon, with an ingratiating smile, replied :
" I think they stopping along water — get some-sings
to eat!"
This w^as the last straw. I gave Gideon my opinion
of himself, in what the popular novelists call "fine,
nervous English " (it must have been, because it obviously
made him nervous as to what might be coming next) , and
NATIVE FOOD— A FIJIAN HOME 57
told him that it was entirely his fault for letting the men
stay ; also that I would not give them any tobacco money
for the next Indian store, or any more stray handfuls of
sugar to eat on the road ; and that I was going to ride on
now, and let them follow as they liked. The country
was growing more level, so I put Tan6wa to a canter, and
kept him at it for a good while. As a result, the three
men were very tired and hot when they caught me up
later in the day, and looked rather penitent. I was glad,
on the whole, that I had not hanged them, especially
when I heard Nasoni remark, with a chuckle, to Joni
that they would get plenty of roast pig at Natuatuathoko,
where we were to stop the night — for it seemed to me that
Nature herself would probably attend to the matter of
their extermination before very long.
All day, as I rode along, the same thought kept
coming up in my mind. Why should all these miles
and miles of fine highland country lie empty, untouched,
uninhabited? The Fijians did not need them, and were
ready enough to let, or even to sell, under the new laws
which provide for the improvident native by giving the
capital into the permanent charge of the British Govern-
ment, and only paying out the yearly interest. The
climate was splendidly healthy; the occasional forests
only covered a small part of the country, and were val-
uable in themselves for their timber; there was abun-
dance of water, and the bridle- tracks were everywhere
good enough for driving stock down to the coast. It had
been proved that horses and cattle did excellently all
over the country, and sheep in the hills. The sales of
Australian and New Zealand tinned beef and mutton
in the country were enormous, in spite of a heavy duty.
Anyone who started a cannery in the islands, so as to
avoid the duty and undersell the imported article, would
58 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
make a fortune. Further, there was a good export trade
in beef only half developed. And apart from this alto-
gether, coffee, sisal hemp, jute, and many other valuable
commercial products, were known to do excellently in the
hill country. Where were the settlers? and why did
they not come?
I have never, as yet, been able to find a satisfactory
reply to the latter question, except in the aggressive
attitude adopted by the oldest inhabitant to all new
blood and new-fangled ways, and, possibly, in the small
attention paid to such matters by the Fijian Government,
until very recently. Even at the time of writing, it is
not at all easy to obtain reliable information about the
exact amount of waste lands available for cultivation. I
can only tell the would-be settler that there is certainly
plenty of land to be had, and that details can best be
obtained by going inland to look matters up in person.
I hear that the Government is having a survey made,
but it will probably be a long time in the making, as a
government, like an alligator, requires considerable
space and time to turn around in. In the meantime, a
few of the rough facts which I obtained about this part
of Fiji, in the early part of 1905, from local residents of
long standing may be of interest.
On the Ba River, about 100,000 acres of native land,
600 feet above sea-level, is available. It is extremely
suitable for stock-raising. Rents probably not more
than a shilling an acre.
On the Tavua River, about 1,000 acres of similar land.
Between Ba and Nandrunga, a stretch of land six or
seven miles across, some hundreds of feet above sea-level,
suitable for coffee, or for stock-raising. Quite unin-
habited. Plenty of water.
Between Nandrunga, Nambukuya and Natuatua-
NATIVE FOOD— A FIJIAN HOME 59
thoko (over forty miles) the entire country, with one
exception of a few small yam-patches about the villages,
is unoccupied, and the greater part available as above
mentioned.
Yanggona, which sells for 15. 6d. a pound in Fiji, and
is used in the pharmacopoea of almost every country in
the world, grows wild among these hills, in the woods.
Citrons and lemons of fine quality also grow wild.
I would like to add here, that the present state of
Fiji — ^just beginning to open up for settlement, with lands
as yet unsurveyed in great part, and much of the interior
only roughly known — is just the period, in any country's
history, when settlers light upon the best chances, and get
on most rapidly. After everything has become smooth
and easy, and the value of all the lands is accurately
known, and the products that suit the country and the
markets best have all been tried and exploited, the cream
is off the milk — skimmed up by those who were enter-
prising enough to take the chances, and try to be the first
in the field. Fiji is no place, as yet, for the young man
who never had an enemy in his life, but, somehow, isn't
wanted at home; who has a moderate capital, and a
moderate amount of character, and can get along very
nicely if some one tells him just where to go and what
to do, and how to do it; who is excellent on a tram-line
of habit and custom, but as incapable of making a fresh
path for himself as the tram-car itself might be, off the
line. Men of another stamp, who will help the colony
to find itself, are what Fiji wants, and there can be no
manner of doubt that it will have them, as soon as the
public can be got to realise that the country is one of our
most important Crown Colonies, that Fijians are neither
dangerous nor cannibal, and that the climate is one of
the finest and healthiest in the world.
6o FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
. . . But, after all, who could be practical and
statistical within sight of Natuatuathoko ?
We were nearing it now, this mountain fortress town
in the very heart of the highlands. The Singatoka River
lay on our right, the hills w^ere behind and before, but we
were travelling now over a stretch of rich, level, meadow
country, where the fine, soft grass rose waist-deep on
either side, and the road itself was a wide, turfy avenue,
bordered here and there by splendid orange and lemon-
trees in full fruit. By-and-by, the track took a sharp
turn upward. We were leaving the river valley, to ascend
the strange little hill on which the town stands, as upon
a tower. Now the grassy road became steep and stony,
and the orange-trees almost closed in overhead. And on
each side, as I rode along, bushy crotons and dracaenas,
scarlet and black and yellow, made a quaintly ornamen-
tal hedge, while tall guavas shot above them, and dan-
gled great golden eggs, bursting with the richness of the
luscious pink pulp within, right over my lap. I accepted
the generous invitation freely; and in the rear I heard
a crunching and sucking that told me the ever-hungry
Joni and Nasoni were "at it again." Well they might
be, for nowhere in Fiji are oranges and guavas like these
to be found.
Higher up, and still higher! The path was neatly
edged with stones, and partly paved, but the horse
scrambled and clattered a good deal, for the way was
steep. Groves of exquisite bamboo, orange and lemon
shut in the track so that one could see little ahead.
But suddenly the way opened out, and before me stood
an immense Fijian house, seventy or eighty feet high,
the great roof crowded w4th men who were rethatching
it, aided by a scaffolding of bamboo. They raised a yell
that made even the sedate Tan^wa start and shy, and
NATIVE FOOD— A FIJIAN HOME 6i
shook their knives in the blue air, high up under the sky.
Then they began to scramble down the house like cats or
flies, and made a rush for me and my men. Even so,
thirty years ago, had the fathers of these men — some of
the elders themselves, indeed — rushed to greet visitors
to Natuatuathoko, with brandished weapons and terrify-
ing cries. But in the old days, there was war-paint on
their faces, the weapons meant strict business, and the
cooking-ovens, in the village above, were hot to receive
the luckless visitor, not to entertain him. To-day, the
men of this mountain town, once the home of every
devilish cruelty, were running and shouting, and swinging
their cutting-knives about, simply to express their uncon-
trollable delight at my arrival. A white woman up here!
a white woman alone! what a tremendous event, and
what a source of mad excitement ! Why, there was not a
white face for fifty miles on either side of Natuatuathoko,
and the magistrate himself only came round to hold his
court, in the big house they had been thatching, once in
every six months!
I feel inclined to say that "a hundred willing hands
were extended to lead my horse into the town, and help
me to dismount," because it is the proper, signed-and-
sealed sort of phrase to use on an occasion of this kind,
and the Natuatuathokians certainly ought to have done
it. But, as a matter of fact, they did not, being far too
much occupied in staring at me to think of anything of
the kind. When I dismounted outside the bamboo
stockade, and scrambled over the stile into the town,
they rushed to look at my side-saddle, crying out,
"Sombo, sombo!" (Wonderful!) Then they stared at
my habit-skirt, w^hich I was holding up as I walked, and
expressed their admiration of its length by loud "tck-
tcks." They told my men that I must be rich, to have
62 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
such a long sulu as that, and that I was certainly an
"Andi" (high chief tainess) , because of my height, which
was equal to their own. (In Fiji, the chief families are
all tall, and a tall woman, in particular, is almost sure to
be of the blood royal of Bau, Thakombau's birthplace.)
Following at a respectful distance, they accompanied me
into the town; my men, as usual, enjoying the glory of
the arrival exceedingly, and competing with each other
in the size and splendour of the lies they told about me.
I was the sister of the Governor of Fiji (a fact that would
have greatly surprised His Excellency if he had heard it) ;
I was also a most intimate friend of King Edward VI I. ,
who had specially despatched me from England to tell
him what Fiji was like. Moreover, my father had so
many cattle that England was too small to contain them,
and I was therefore asking questions, wherever I went,
about the amount of vacant grazing-land to be had in Fiji
for these superfluous "bulimacow." (Bulimacow is the
Fijian word for beef, and for cattle, singular or plural.
A milch cow is a bulimacow; also a bull. The origin
is obvious: confusion caused by asking the name of
the strange creatures when they were first brought
to Fiji.)
I did not pay much attention to these pleasing fictions,
however, for I was now within the town, and Nambukuya
at once fell from its pride of place in my heart. It was
not the most beautiful village in the world ; that honour
was transferred to Natuatuathoko, henceforth and for
ever. . . .
. . . Little enchanted town, how you linger in my
memory, though I spent only a night and a morning in
your wonderful citadel 1 How often I think of you, as I
first saw you from the grassy orange avenue below,
perched high upon your green pinnacle like a fairy
HOUSE OF THE TURAXGA LILEVVA
NATIVE FOOD— A FIJIAN HOME 63
town in an old-world story-book! The tale seemed
to tell itself, as Tan^wa plodded steadily along in the
yellow sunset.
**. . . And they travelled all day long, through
the black woods where the goblins live, and over the
mountains of No-man's-land. And at evening they came
to a beautiful river, that was deep blue, and the birds
sang in the trees beside it. Then they saw the road that
led to the magic city, stretching right before them, all
green and soft, and the most lovely fruits grew beside it,
and dropped on the path, with no one to pick them up.
And the magic city stood up in the clouds, and there was
a wall all round it, but if one stood at the gate, and
pronounced the words, 'Open, Sesame!' it opened
immediately. ...
And upon what did the magic gate open?
Upon a small grassy lawn, surrounded by a ring of
about a dozen quaint little native houses ; upon a tangle
of heavy-fruited mandarin orange-trees, lemon-trees,
guavas, scarlet-blossomed hibiscus, and graceful giant
bamboo, framing blue distances in the most beautiful of
natural arches and windows; upon an airy circle of
clouds and shadow-dappled hills, and far-away faint-green
meadows, ringing round the little fortress town with
what seemed a vision of "all the kingdoms of the earth,
and the glory of them." Very far below, the blue Singa-
toka wound like a ribbon about the base of the hill,
murmuring sleepily and ceaselessly all day and all night
long, in the stillness of the mountain air. They are
strangely silent, these hill towns, even in the early morn-
ing and evening hours, when all the people are at home.
The lightly treading bare feet of the mountaineers make
not so much noise upon the grass as a ripe orange falling
from the tree; children do not shout at play; there is
64 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
no calling out to teams, or dragging of heavy boats, or
sound of wheel or hoof, for countless miles beyond the
mountain wall — only the high hill winds in the whispering
bamboos, and the long murmur of the river.
The house to which I was conducted remains in my
memory as the most delightful I saw in Fiji. It be-
longed to a chief of some importance — the Turanga
Lil^wa. It stood upon a mound at least twenty feet high,
approached by a long flight of steep stone steps, and from
every one of its three doors one looked down, in the early
morning, upon a rolling sea of pearl-coloured mountain
mists, islanded by sharp violet crags and summits. With
the springing up of the clear white sun, these opalescent
mists broke and shredded away to garlands of lightest
thistledown, hanging about the dark-blue shoulders of
the hills; the river turned to golden glass, the yellow balls
of the oranges began to burn like fire, and sudden day
broke upon the silent town. Yet, perhaps, it was more
lovely still in the moonlight, the warm, wonderful tropic
moonlight that painted all the widespread distances in
delicate silver and misty blue, and frosted the dew-wet
domes of the strange peaky houses with elfin touches of
sparkling crystal. ... If Nambukuya was a place
for the old and weary, here was a place for the young and
happy: for Romeo and Juliet, for Sidney and Geraldine,
for wonderful story princesses, eloped from gloomy
palaces to the wilderness, and a cottage, and love.
And there, in the middle of the village, was the cottage
all ready — a cottage ornee, fit for a princess who had not
3''et learned to do without her high-heeled satin shoes and
her necessaire — quaint beyond description, with a Euro-
pean veranda, and an enormous high-pitched Fijian roof,
and odd little rooms partitioned off from one another by
cool w^alls of fitted reeds. It had been built for a former
A FEAST BY THK WAY
HRIXCaNG UP THE YAMS
NATIVE FOOD— A FIJIAN HOME 65
white resident — the officer in command of the native
garrison that used to occupy the town — and was still in
good repair, being occasionally used by the district
magistrate on his travels. An odd, delightful spot; a
hothouse for strange fancies, and fantastic fairy imagin-
ings born of long days' solitary travel and long hours'
moonlight thought. . . .
But, really, it is time to get away, for there is a big
distance to cover to-day, and the men have finished their
feast of yams and pig and fat river-crayfish, and the
bridle is being forced upon Tandwa's mildly protesting
head once more. So it is "boot and saddle" again, and
ride away, the richer by an exquisite picture of beauty,
and one or two oddly comic experiences. Among these
must be included the special honour paid me by the wife
of the Turanga Lildwa, who proudly brought out a
chair and table (evidently home-made), at which I was
requested to take my dinner. Chairs and tables, in the
mountains, are unheard-of luxuries, and the Tiiranga
Lil^wa is very proud of possessing these objects of art;
so much so, that I had not the heart to tell him that he
had got the relative heights hopelessly mixed — the chair
being a giant of its species, while the table was not eigh-
teen inches high. I ate my dinner on it, rather than
hurt his feelings, but I felt inexpressibly ludicrous, and
remarkably like a chicken drinking.
CHAPTER IV
HOSPITALITY
"Plenty Shark'' — Introduction to a Mhili-mhili — Down
the Singatoka River — A Meke-meke at Mavua —
Thalassa
AFTER Natuatuathoko, the journey became inextri-
cably involved with the Singatoka River. All
day I was concerned with that stream, fording it more
than once, climbing up and down the hills that bordered
its banks, and at last cantering easily for many a mile
through the beautiful river flats of the middle reaches,
the richest land in Fiji. There is almost nothing that
this land will not grow, and grow excellently. Sugar
does well on it; vanilla would flourish in all the little
valleys; bananas grow splendidly here and there, where
an enterprising Chinaman or two has taken up land;
cocoanuts bear heavily; cattle, if one may judge by the
specimens feeding here and there along the banks, grow
as beefy and big, as silken of coat and bright of eye, as
any prize beast bred in English meadows. It may be
said here, once for all, of the Singatoka River country,
that the land is unsurpassable, that many thousands of
acres are to be had, and that the rents asked by the natives
are very low — only a very few shillings per acre in many
cases. It is popularly said in Suva, by people who have
never left the towns, that the bar at the mouth of the river
is an insuperable obstacle to the development of the
country. This however, is not the case. The bar does
67
68 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
prevent steamers from coming up, but the Chinese settlers
seem to experience no difficulty in getting their fruit
disposed of, by means of lighters, which convey it down
to the sea, to meet the calling steamers. Nor is the bar
necessarily a permanent obstacle, since something less
than two thousand pounds will remove it, as soon as the
Fiji Government sees its way to spend the money. The
climate of the Singatoka is excellent; clear, bright and
healthy, and not excessively wet. There are no fevers
or diseases of any kind, not even malaria.
Villages were very few to-day, so the men did not
secure more than one or two feasts before we reached
the stopping-place for the night. We halted after a
day's travel of only about fifteen miles, since heavy rain
that fell in the middle of the day had delayed us an
hour or two. The sun had just slipped behind the hill
when we reached the lower Singatoka — a stream very
different from the shallow, brawling waters we had left
earlier in the day. This was wide and strong, dark agate
green in colour, and exceedingly deep. The night was
coming very rapidly; there was not a soul in sight, and
no boat visible. My men tied up Tanewa in the long
grass (since he was to be sent back next morning from
this side of the river) , and then sat down and began roll-
ing cigarettes. Whether we were going to get across the
river before dark — ^^-hether we were going to arrive any-
where to-night — ^what we were going to do anyhow — did
not trouble them in the least. That was "the white
man's burden" (or, in this case, the white woman's) —
their burdens were my box and provision-bag, nothing
more.
"Is there no boat?" I asked Gideon.
"No, sir," replied Gideon, with the utmost cheerful-
ness. (The Fijian generally addresses a lady as " sir.")
HOSPITALITY
69
" No ford anywhere? — ^no place we cross?"
"No, sir,"
"Then we'll have to swim, and pretty quick about
it. It's getting dark."
"All right, sir," lighting a cigarette and rising to his
feet.
I had dressed myself in expectation of some such
contingency, and had only to remove my riding-skirt
and shoes. This I was proceeding to do, when Gideon
remarked conversationally, with a brilliant smile:
"Plenty s'ark here."
I stopped at the laces of the second shoe, and asked
anxiously:
"What shark? All same R6war shark stop here?"
"Yes, sir. All same. Plentee."
This gave me an unpleasant sensation down the spine,
for I had heard many things of the R6wa River sharks —
how fierce they were, how they would swim up the river
for fully thirty miles, how they bit arms and legs off care-
less bathers, as the records of the local hospital testified.
And now I was informed that the Singatoka was infested
in the same way.
Stanley wouldn't have minded those sharks, I felt
certain. The men obviously did not. But I did, and I
hesitated.
"Sa lakomai mbili-mbili" ("There is a 'mbili-mbili'
coming"), remarked Nasoni at this stage, pointing out
across the water.
I looked about, half expecting to see some strange
river-beast or fish rising from the glassy tide ; but a much
more welcome sight met my eyes — a small bamboo raft,
coming across from the other side, paddled by a native.
In a few minutes it was alongside — a mere bundle of
sticks with a depression in the middle, and a sort of
70 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
rough bow formed by tying the small ends of the bam-
boos tightly together. Such as it was, however, I wel-
comed it gladly, for Lemba-Lemba, an important town,
was on the other side, and I had got to cross to-night, or
drown.
Saddle and luggage were piled on the mbili-mbili, and
I perched myself as safely as possible on one side.
In the gathering dusk I could just see white sulus
flitting about upon the further shore ; it was evident that
we were expected. When the raft grounded, a big, jet-
eyed, jet-bearded native, with a fine, dignified presence,
a neck and chest like a bull, and a voice to match, came
forward and welcomed me as one having authority. I
did not need to be told that this was the Buli, or high chief
of the district, for the deference paid to him by my men
at once informed me of the fact.
Good Buli of Lemba-Lemba ! what a pleasant memory
you left in the mind of the wandering marama, long after
she had sailed away from your hospitable town. Here,
at last, was someone with a head — kindly, hospitable and
jolly, quick to give orders, ready to stir about — a relief
indeed from the amiable dependence of the men. The
ascent from the river to the village was almost unscalable
that night, being nearly perpendicular, and so slippery
with recently soaked red clay that it resembled a huge
toboggan slide much more than a path. Even the bare
feet and strong prehensile toes of the Fijians slipped on
it, while I simply could not keep my footing at all.
But the Buli roared like his namesake animal, and out
of nowhere appeared two men armed with spades. These
scrambled in front of me, cutting steps as they climbed,
while another man, and the Buli himself, held my elbows,
and hoisted vigorously. In this fashion, all in the dark,
I came up to Lemba-Lemba, and was ushered into the
MORXIXG, LEMBA-LEMBA
«l'5*«itt«i6...'.^.1.,.
:^ri!r-^'"-.>^^-^-y.;.{Ail_
THE BULI OF LEMBA-LEMBA, WITH FATHER AND FAMILY
HOSPITALITY 71
Bull's own house, where supper was already waiting, hot
from the cooking-pits — ^ndalo, yams, crayfish, cocoanuts,
fowls, and a brace of plump sucking-pigs, cut up into
joints. All this was laid out on a real table, with two
real chairs, on one of which the good Buli took his seat,
a perfect firework of eyes and teeth and glowing good-
nature, while I took the other. He would not eat till I
had finished, however, and all the time, according to
custom, my hungry men squatted quietly on the floor,
waiting for their turn. Many a time, both then and
afterward, I longed to give the patient, tired creatures
their food, as soon as I was helped myself, instead of
keeping them waiting until my tea was made and my
meal finished; but I knew that this was undesirable,
and would probably make them unmanageable later on.
One hard lesson that the white man or woman must
learn with regard to Fijian servants is not to be too kind.
They may be considered in private, but one must never
openly show them that their comforts are a matter of
thought ; and the respect that they freely offer must not
be broken down by any lessening of dignity on the white
person's part. Like all savage races, they count kindness
as weakness, and although I have not, personally, found
them incapable of gratitude, I have found that an act of
indulgence, such as a gift of tea or tobacco, or a little
skilled care for some small injury, must needs be balanced
by a certain manufactured hardness of demeanour, if it
is not to form a ground for future laziness and carelessness.
This question of gratitude is a vexed one. Most of
the other writers say that the Fijians possess no such
feeling ; and certainly, what they may have is of a quality
different from ours. I have heard of a kindly old lady
(a white settler in Fiji), who tended a young Fijian
through a bad attack of dysentery, and succeeded, with
72 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
much trouble, in saving his Hfe. After he was well, he
came up to her house, planted himself on her veranda,
and demanded food and lodging. When she refused,
he was extremely indignant, and asked her, in an injured
tone: "Did you not save my life?" "Certainly I did,"
said the lady. "Then, of course, it belongs to you, and
you must provide for me!" declared the Fijian. His
benefactress, rather taken aback, tried to decline the
responsibility as politely as might be, but the Fijian stuck
to his point, and, only for the intervention of a Govern-
ment official, who was so tickled with the originality of
the affair that he carried the man off to Suva for a ser-
vant, the kindly lady would probably have suffered a
good deal of annoyance.
This is one side. There is, however, another. I
have known one of my men, to whom I had given an odd
sixpence for tobacco, collect all my shoes, and take them
off to clean immediately; and, on the journey through
the mountains, my interpreter more than once refused
tea for himself and the others, on the grounds that I gave
them "plenty ki-ki" (food), and that I should not have
tea enough for myself if they shared it. To see them
afterward, when we had reached an Indian store, boiling
their tea furiously over the fire till it was black and thick
as treacle, and then drinking it, sweetened to syrup,
with an expression of the most heavenly ecstasy on each
black face, was to understand that they had, previously,
made a real sacrifice.
The Buli shared my tea, on this occasion, with much
delight. Gideon prepared a specially powerful cup, well
stewed, for him. To present it, he squatted down on the
ground before the Buli, lowered his head, and held up the
cup, humbly saying: "Na ti, Turanga" ("The tea,
O chief!") The Fijian "kaisi," or commoner, pays
HOSPITALITY 73
immense respect to chiefs, and never dares to address
them unless squatting humbly on the ground at their
feet. Only an equal addresses a chief while standing.
After everyone had fed, and was satisfied, the Buli
put my men through a searching catechism as to myself
and my doings, enjoying the good gossip as heartily as
any old maid in an English chimney corner, and roaring
with laughter over some of their replies. It was then
explained to him that I should want the whole house to
myself that night, with his wife to keep me company.
The idea of being turned out of his chiefly mansion in
favour of that unimportant item, his wife, struck the
Buli as the greatest joke of the season, and his fat sides
fairly shook with laughter, as he bade me good-night,
and waddled down the cocoanut log out into the dark.
I fancy he ordered Gideon to sit up in the neighbouring
house and entertain him with conversation all night
long (Fiji fashion), for the low buzz of talk, punctuated by
an occasional bellow of enjoyment, was distinctly audible
until daybreak.
In the morning, the Buli offered me a pressing invita-
tion to stay a day or two longer; but time was not
unlimited, so I rather reluctantly left the pretty town
and its hospitable chief, giving two or three shillings in
exchange for my lodging, and, as usual, finding that
my small "tip" was considered extremely liberal. Now
came a difficulty. Tan6wa had been sent back, according
to previous arrangement, and behold, the boat we had
expected to meet us was not there. It had gone down
the river because of the " Bosi Vakaturanga," I was told.
As the Bosi, or Council of Chiefs, was being held in Suva,
a hundred miles away, it was difficult to see the connection,
but the fact remained. The mbili-mbili must carry us
down to Koronisingana ; there was nothing else to be had.
74 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
So, on to this bundle of sticks my baggage, my saddle,
myself and followers were packed, and we began our
slow drifting dow^n the river. A proper mbili-mbili is
not too rough a craft ; it has a sort of fence in the centre,
enclosing a comfortable seat, and is made with some con-
sideration for the matter of keeping its cargo dry. But
our conveyance boasted only a sort of rise or hillock on
each side of the central hollow; and, as I sat with my
feet in the latter, I could feel the water squirting up my
ankles every time the men made a feeble stroke with the
awkward bamboo pole. It had to be used as an oar, for
the river — ^which I could see right under my feet between
the bamboos, green, sunlit and clear — was much too
deep about here to allow the raft to be punted along.
There was every opportunity for observing the coun-
try as we drifted by ; and a very lovely country it was —
rich flats along the river shores, thick with the finest
grass, wasting away untouched, year after year; pictur-
esque cliffs sheltering the stream; long, hot, damp gullies
here and there, just the places for vanilla-growing;
and always the murmuring green river, winding endlessly
ahead, and the far, soft hills of hyacinth blue. So we
drifted on, into the country that I did not know; and
under the open sky, in the warm, fresh, river wind, life
seemed very good.
. . . We had had a feast of fowl and pig in the
morning, and a lunch of tinned meat and biscuit about
midday. But that did not trouble the men at all when
we got to Koronisingana in the early afternoon, and
found that the local chief had slain the fatted hen once
again. I will swear upon my honour and conscience
that they had eaten enough for ten already that day,
before they sat down to two fowls among the three,
and cleared them away, with ten or tw^elve pounds of
MV i'OLLi i\vi:k:-, it.\ iiii: .mi'.ii.i-mi;ii.
GETTING READY FOR THE MEKE-MEKE
HOSPITALITY 75
yam. When they had finished everything within sight,
they got up, said it was a good town, and that the Singa-
toka people would all go to heaven; and then went off
to bale out the boat I had hired, and transfer my goods
from the mbili-mbili. I wandered about, looking at
the pretty village, which was quite unlike the mountain
towns — much more straggling; not in any way fortified,
and less quaint in its architecture, since it wanted the
high mounds on which the mountain houses stood.
But the beauty of its trees and shrubs quite made up
for any lack of architectural interest. Every house
stood in a grove of many-coloured shrubs, and white
and yellow flowers, with splendid tall cocoanuts and big,
shady mangoes overtopping all. Paw-paws loaded with
their delicious little tree-melons, stood by almost every
door, and there were oranges there, too, as in every
Fijian town.
The Buli's house had a European toilet-glass; and
my men took full advantage of this, setting it on the
floor, and squatting before it in turn, to oil, stick up,
and decorate their hair. No London lady with a mass
of artificially produced waves and curls is more anxious
about her hair than a Fijian. In rainy weather, a
smoked banana-leaf is often used as a waterproof cover
for it, closely tied over the head. Those who do not
dye the hair yellow with coral lime, or red with annatto,
generally touch it up with soot to ensure its being of a
dense blackness. It is, therefore, not so completely
weather-proof as one might imagine, and is only kept
smart by continual vigilance.
The boat leaked badly, and the men had to bale in
turn all afternoon. This did not trouble them, however,
since all native boats leak, and the baler is generally as
active as the oar. We had neither oars nor paddles,
76 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
the only means of progression being a bamboo pole.
This was slow, so when we came to the shallows, Joni
would get out, and run, knee-deep, behind the boat,
pushing it gaily in front of him, for miles at a time — a
method of progression entirely new to me, but apparently
well known to the men.
Towns were scarce in this part of the river, and my
followers only succeeded in securing a fourth feed of one
fowl and a few pounds of yam, before we reached Mavua,
the biggest town on the Singatoka, where the growing
dusk obliged us to stop. How much they ate there,
I should not care to say, being anxious to retain some
character for truth-telling, in the midst of a sceptical world.
The town could not be seen from the river, but as our
boat turned in to the shore, and grounded near the bank,
a Mavuan suddenly appeared from nowhere, dressed in
an extremely small sulu, and armed with a knife three
feet long. Seeing that we were going to land, he com-
menced a mad dance on the river flat, under the orange
sunset, his high, stiff hair shaking about on his head like
a bed of sword-grass in the wind, his knife circling round
and round, while his huge mouth, every now and then,
emitted a yell of the wildest excitement.
I longed for a better light, to snapshot this strange
vision, and stranger welcome, but the sun was already
below the horizon, so that I could not secure a picture
that forcibly recalled — in appearance — the not-so-long-
ago days of the death-drum, the strangling noose, and
the "bokolo" (human body) served up smoking hot,
with savoury herbs, for the sunset meal. . . .
The amiable savage on the bank stopped dancing as
soon as we reached the shore, and hastened to hand me
out of the boat with a vigour that simply "yanked" me
over the gunwale, two or three yards out on to the gravel
HOSPITALITY 77
flat. He then drove my rings into my flesh by an agonis-
ingly hearty shake-hands, went and picked up the bundle
of reeds he had been cutting, and ran ahead of us up to
the town, whence an excited crowd issued at once to
escort us in.
Another pretty village — another hospitable Buli;
and something new this time in the way of houses, for the
Buli of Mavua has one of the very finest houses in Fiji.
It is about as large as an ordinary country church, or
town hall, with a tremendously high-pitched roof, and a
touch of European civilisation in the shape of two glass
windows, which make it unusually light. The bedplace
would accommodate three or four large families, and
the yanggona bowl is the pride of the Singatoka. By
its dark colour and thick, opalescent blue enamelling, I
judged it to be an heirloom many generations old. It was
the size of an ordinary spongebath, and was cut out of
one solid block from a giant forest-tree. Such a bowl as
this is greatly prized, and proportionately valuable, for
collectors of island curiosities are ready to pay large sums
in order to obtain a good specimen. Most of the chiefs,
however, prefer to keep them.
At Mavua, I was entertained with an excellent mek^-
mek^, or song and dance. There had been a small one at
Natuatuathoko — a sing-song that lasted for several hours,
beginning Vith some verses about myself, going on to
celebrate the glories of the horse Tan^wa, branching off
after that into something about the Audi Keva, a coasting
steamer, and subsequently chanting the saga of all crea-
tion, from Adam down to the latest Colonial Secretary,
so far as I could judge. But that was rather an unim-
portant function, whereas the Mavua meke-mek^ was one
"with all the frills on," got up, at some cost of trouble,
by the young men of the town to honour my visit.
78 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
It took place after the usual pig-and-poultry feast,
in the morning. A number of the youngest and best-
looking men attired themselves in white sulus, rubbed
themselves with scented cocoanut oil until their skins
were like dark-brown satin, and tied bracelets of striped
green-and-w^hite ribbon-grass about their arms. They
also placed aigrettes of ribbon-grass in their hair, and
fastened bunches of brilliant coral-coloured flowers
wherever they could be made to stay about arms and
shoulders, or among the ribbon-grass in their yellow-dyed
locks.
Thus attired, they looked a very smart and personable
set of young men, much more pleasing in appearance
than any other Fijians I had yet seen. The people of
Mavua have a tradition that, early in the nineteenth
century, a white man came to live in their town, and
took to himself several Mavuan wives. The half-caste
children of these, marrying among the pure Fijians,
introduced a strain of white blood, the effects of which
(or so they say), are felt to the present day. Certainly,
the Mavuans are somewhat lighter-coloured as well as
better-looking than the people of the other river towns.
But I could notice no trace of white ancestry in the hair,
which is as stiff and woolly as that of any other group of
Fijian people.
A mat was spread on the ground, and the young men
squatted on it in a row; one, placed at the rear, keeping
time to the music by clicking two sticks. The per-
formers began by slapping their hands in unison, and
then launched out into an extraordinary and graceful
sitting dance; heads, bodies, arms and hands swaying
with one impulse, in perfect time. Sometimes they all
swept low to the left, as if mown down by a scythe ; some-
times they gathered invisible armtuls into their arms, or
HOSPITALITY 79
pointed at unseen sights ; sometimes they raised an inde-
scribable twitter and twinkle of all their bristling decora-
tions, shivering and shaking as they sat. And all the
time they sang, with strong, splendid, sonorous voices, a
wild, sinister chant, that waxed louder and louder, fiercer
and fiercer every minute. What brazen throats! what
resonant lungs they had! The booming of the bass
resounded like the "bourdon" stop of an organ, and the
wild wanderings of the melody (if such it could be called)
brought to mind the rushing of sea-winds in the huge
fronds of the cocoa-palm, above the surf of a spouting
island reef. For an hour or so they sat and sang and
swayed, and then they stopped to clap in chorus once
more, and ended. The words were indistinguishable
throughout — not many of even the Fijians can tell the
exact meaning of the verses used in one of the traditional
ancient mek^-mekes — and I could not obtain any explana-
tion of the actions, but some of them seemed distinctly
suggestive of fishing, and the river.
Of how we got away — of how we passed several towns
and stopped (by earnest request) to feast at four, on pig,
yam, crayfish, fat river-clams, and stewed fowls cooked
with native peppers and shallots ; of how the men plotted
to stop at yet a fifth, and incited Gideon (who was a lordly
person, and didn't have to row) to tell me that Nasoni
was worn out with fatigue, and would be ill if I did not
shortly call a rest ; of how I sternly answered that Nasoni
might rest in the boat, and Gideon (who laughed wildly
when he saw how he was caught) should take his turn at
the oar for once ; of how the Buli stood at the foot of his
river-stairs, in his best Sunday sulu, and shrieked to us
to come up and have something to eat ; of how we floated
relentlessly past, like Elaine going down to Camelot, and
wouldn't call; of how, at long last, we came toward the
8o FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
mouth of the river, near the open sea, and I got up on
the seats, and said " Thdlassa, thdlassa!'' (or, at least,
felt like it) ; of how I reached a white magistrate's house,
and quartered myself therein, and was hospitably wel-
comed, also given clean clothes, and tea with real milk
in it — I cannot write in detail. Nor is it necessary to add
(therefore I add it, since the superfluities of life are the
only things anyone really cares to have) that Joni,
Nasoni and Gideon picked up most of the guavas, and
75 per cent, of the oranges, that we met floating down the
river from the trees on the banks ; that they ate them, and
that, furthermore, arrived at the constabulary station
where they were put up, they consumed (in addition to
one feast at Mavua and four coming down the river) all
the tinned meat, biscuit, tea, yam and rice offered them
by the Governmental authorities, as liberal rations for
travelled and hungry men.
That they were ill, after all, I know; for they left me
a day or so later (not in too good condition) when I hired
a cutter to take me down the coast; and months after-
ward, I heard that "the marama had taken Joni and
Nasoni away from Ba River down to the Singatoka, and
they came back very sick, for she had worked them nearly
to death!"
Before leaving the district, I heard that many thou-
sands of acres of the best land in all Fiji were to be had
on the Singatoka for banana-growing, tea, coffee, vanilla,
or stock-raising; and that the complicated and trouble-
some native laws w^hich had caused much difficulty about
land tenure in Fiji were being swept away. By the time
these lines appear in print, it will be possible for any
desirable settler to obtain land at low prices direct from
the Native Office in Suva, without any fear of offending
and, consequently, living on bad terms with his coloured
HOSPITALITY 8i
neighbours, and also without any doubt as to the security
of his own title.
There is no necessity to tell how I got back to Mavua,
and thence to Suva, seventy miles from the mouth of
the Singatoka. There was a very rough sea, and a cutter,
with a little dog-kennel forward, and a miserable creature
that crouched within, for a wretched day and night. . . .
But let us draw a rug over it, as I did.
X'- -f^i
I.
CHAPTER V
PERSONAL IMPRESSIONS
The Song of the Road — Fijian Fun — Night on the Wain-
ikoro — The Noble Savage Fails — The Village Plate
— The Lot of the Kaisi — Sharks Again — A Swim
for it.
NORTHWARD of Viti Levu ("Great Fiji"), where I
had been travelhng, hes Vanua Levu ("Great
Land"), the second largest island of the group. It is
over one hundred miles long, and thirty miles across.
On the map, it looked interesting and easy; so I took a
steamer up to Lambasa, the principal port, intending to
see something of the island.
Six weeks afterward I came back, having travelled
about a hundred and eighty miles in the interior; spent
the best part of a month, in different slices of time,
waiting for steamers; and learned, once for all, what
being " off the road" really meant. Viti Levu was a mere
summer's day picnic compared to Vanua Levu. Stanley
(I cannot get rid of the comparison) would have liked
Vanua Levu. He would have enjoyed the total absence
of bridges, the fine profusion of swamps and gullies, the
days when the men had to keep their knives always ready
to hack a path through choking lianas, the mornings when
it rained horribly, and one had to go on, and get soaked ;
the evenings when one had to put up in a house without
any doors, each open doorway serving as a sort of opera-
box for a score or two of greatly excited and interested
83
84 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
natives, looking on eagerly at the performance inside.
He would have liked to eat ancient biscuits soaked through
with rain, and thoughtfully wrapped up by one of the
men in a spare sulu, only half soiled — he would have
enjoyed rough-washed clothes, cleaned by himself in a
river with a scrap of toilet soap — the acquirement of a
permanently scarlet nose would not have grieved him as
it grieved me, and I am quite sure that he wouldn't have
got surly and unamiable every time it was necessary to
dirty his clothes with wet red clay.
I do not apologise for writing about the mere personal
impressions of this trip, because many books of travel
have taught me that the modesty which omits them is
mistaken. Most people like to know how a traveller
in out-of-the-way regions feels and thinks; without such
details, the account becomes a mere dose of undiluted
geography.
There were some small risks in the Vanua Levu
journey, but no great perils; many little hardships, but
no starvation, fever, thirst, dangerous heat or cold. The
only real difficulty was the responsibility, which, hour
after hour, and day after day, lay somewhat heavily
on my unaccustomed mind, new to uncivilised travel.
I wanted to see and understand the resources of the
country for myself, and to this end, it was necessary
to select the best tracks, from data furnished by a mass
of incoherent native statements, badly translated — to
decide where to go, in a country where each rare white
settler knew his own neighbourhood, and very little
beyond — ^to keep my horse from breaking his legs, or
getting drowned, every hour in the day, prevent my men
from running away, and keep myself in good condition
on a diet of tinned meat, dry biscuit, and milkless tea —
all these were tasks that called for a good deal of energy
PERSONAL IMPRESSIONS 85
small though they might appear to those real explorers
whose feats I was faintly copying, as Early Victorian
ladies used to copy fine steel engravings in pale niggling
pencil-work. Yet I enjoyed the trouble, enjoyed even
the inconveniences, after a fashion, since they were
richly paid for, in the pure gold coin that Nature mints
for sailors, campers, and gipsy wanderers alone. Some
need, so exceedingly deep down in the roots of humanity
that one cannot even define or name it, seems to be
satisfied by wanderings such as these. It is a need not
felt by all (though lying latent in very -.nany who never
suspect its existence, until sudden changes of circum-
stances call it out), and those who do not experience it
find it hard to understand. Yet it is one of the strongest
forces in the world — hunger, love, the lust of battle, alone
can rank with it in power over humanity. The "Song
of the Road"— the "Call of the Wild"— and other
terms coined by an analytical generation for this name-
less power, describe it more fairly than the trumpery
tinsel names of the guide-books describe the miracles
of the awful canyon lands of western America. But
those who know what it is to come home to Earth, under-
stand the meaning of the call, although at the very com-
ing, she lays a cold finger on their lips for welcome, and
says, "You shall know, you shall enjoy, but you shall
never tell. ... "
. . . After the monotony of Society in Suva —
after the days under galvanised iron roofs, and the chatter
about infinite nothings, and the long-tailed frocks worn
in shaded, scented drawing-rooms — came the out-of-
doors again; " boot-and-saddle " once more (it hurt my
sense of the dramatic unities to think that I didn't wear
boots, but shoes), and again the rough, half-known
86 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
country of the kindly brown men. Lambasa is the only
oasis of civilisation on Vanua Levu, and even it consists
merely of a Colonial Sugar Refining Company estate,
with what Goldsmith would have called "all its busy
train" of Indian and Solomon Island labourers, and white
managers, overseers, clerks and mechanics. There is a
store or two, also a Government Armed Native Con-
stabulary Station, and outside, the wilderness. No
roads, no towns save some Fijian villages, no white men,
except single specimens at intervals of several days' ride;
no regular mails, no stores, save a little shanty or two at
very wide intervals, kept by Indians or Chinese. Even
the native villages are far apart; you may journey
twenty miles without seeing one, whereas in Viti Levu
there is always food and shelter within ten miles at
farthest.
Nor are the people of Vanua Levu like the people of
Viti Levu. Farther away from civilisation, and less under
the influence of their own chiefs, they are rougher and
wilder in every way than the natives of the greater
island. In Viti Levu, any native I might chance to meet
on the road at once removed his headband, and laid down
his bundle from his shoulder (both acts of respect),
whereas, in Vanua Levu, parties of Fijians travelling
along the bush tracks would stare boldly and rudely,
swagger past with their head-bands in place, and even
keep their bundles of food on their shoulders while passing
— which, in a Fijian, is simply an act of deliberate rude-
ness and defiance. Nor did my men remonstrate with
them for their discourtesy. A Fijian, at best, is only
outwardly submissive to the white race. He is a craven
at heart, and therefore easily kept down by the British
rule; but loyalty to an employer is not one of his virtues.
Attack from these natives was a thing barely within the
PERSONAL IMPRESSIONS 87
bounds of possibility, so I did not fear it; but I knew
that if any trouble had occurred, my three big Fijians
would simply have run away to avoid being concerned
in it, and left me to see it out by myself.
Hearing that there was a good deal of excellent
native land available at Wainikoro, some twenty-two
miles from Vuo, where I landed, I secured a horse, and
engaged a couple of carriers to accompany myself and
Gideon, my special interpreter and servant, whom I
had brought on from Viti Levu. The horse belonged
to the local Buli, and had every vice that a native horse
can have. He shied, in a manner that I can only classify
as virulent, deleterious and disconnective; he bit like a
rat at bay; he kicked at me one-leggedly, like a misogy-
nistic ostrich; he was thick in the wind, didn't like hills,
was afraid of slippery places, and endeavoured (ap-
parently as a matter of principle) to wipe me off against
every cocoanut-tree he met. Such as he was, however,
he was the only means of travel available, so I engaged
him for a few weeks, and trusted to time and care to
improve his manners. The men named him "Somo-
somo," and always addressed him by his title. I asked
what it meant, and they told me, "Fiji flower, plenty
good flower'' — ^which led me to infer that either their
knowledge of horses was small, or their charity large; for
if Somo-somo was the flower of Fijian horse-flesh, it did
not say much for the remaining steeds of the colony.
The Flower did not like my side-saddle, first of all;
secondly, he entered a protest against that unexpected
outrage, my riding-habit; and thirdly, he objected very
strongly, in gross and in detail, to myself. These prej-
udices having been overcome in some degree, and a start
made from the hospitable house where I had been enter-
tained on my arrival, we got on our way to Wainikoro.
88 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
The chiefs of Vanua Levu would not allow their men
to go away for more than a few days, so (as a Buli, or
chief, has power over all the men in his district, and
none of them can leave it without his permission), I
had several different sets of carriers during my journey-
ings, instead of keeping the same men right through,
as in Viti Levu. This was not so good a plan, as the
men were making less money, and were therefore much
more prone to desert me, and to lag carelessly behind,
over country where they could easily have beaten my
horse. On the way to Wainikoro, I saw little of them,
except at meals. There was no question in Vanua Levu
of the demoralising Capuan luxury that I had experi-
enced on the Singatoka. Villages were far apart, and
poor, and though the contents of my purse obtained
sufficient food for all, there was no superfluity.
Half the day's journey to Wainikoro lay through
"The Company's" fields of bright-green sugar-cane.
Afterward, we came into woods beautiful as all the
Fijian forests are, and most pleasantly cool. The track
was about a couple of feet wide in most places,
and so steep that a good deal of walking had to be done.
Gideon was in his element, with a new audience for his
boastings and braggings about me. I caught odd
fragments of conversation, as we journeyed on, that told
me my social status was increasing. In Viti Levu, I
had merely been an intimate friend of King Edward's.
Here I was an "Andi," or princess, according to Gideon:
I had bags fuU of gold, and a hundred boxes of clothes in
Suva — ^he had carried them up from the steamer him-
self. I was such a great lady that I lived on tinned
meat and biscuit every day, and constantly had tea with
sugar in it, and I was splendidly generous, as befitted
such a personage; for every now and then I would give
PERSONAL IMPRESSIONS 89
as much as sixpence to buy tobacco for the men (Fijian
tobacco, of which one gets a good handful for that sum),
and I often gave away whole quarter-pounds of sugar,
just to eat as they liked. I had a revolver that would
kill twenty men at half a mile, and I had fought all
through the Boer War (in which struggle the Fijians
took the warmest interest), shot hundreds of Boers,
and cut their heads off afterward. . . . With these
and other fictions did my henchman entertain the gaping
carriers, who evidently swallowed every word and, in
consequence, respected their informant all the more,
in that he was privileged to be the servant of such a
celebrity.
I was not sorry that the men stayed out of sight a
good part of the day, for I could enjoy the beauty of
the scenery better when quite alone, and it certainly
was very lovely. Once the track broke suddenly out
of a grove of feathery ironwoods into the staring sun,
and dipped downward toward a wide green plain bor-
dered by brown and purple hills, with just one line of
distant mountain peaks rearing their blue battlements
on the horizon. . . . Only a range of mountains,
covered with reeds and forest here and there, rough and
uninteresting, no doubt, when one reached it, with ups
and downs and gullies and thickets just like the ground
about my feet, and yet . . . And yet, if I could
write all that those distant summits said to me, as they
lay sleeping in the still yellow light of the waning after-
noon— all that the eternal hills, far away and blue and
utterly out of reach, have said to countless souls since
the beginning of time — I should speak with the tongues
of men and angels, and tell what human lips have never
told, and never will.
I turned the horse down into the valley, and soon
90 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
the woods shut in the path again. But for long after,
as I rode through the quiet forest, with no company
but the murmuring hill-river at my side, two lines from
some half -forgotten poet kept chanting in my mind, sadly,
as befitted the lonely land and the waning day:
" . . . The heights of heaven
Where I shall never win."
Sunset was near, and sunset, in these latitudes, means
dark. I waited for the men, and told them they must
hurry. It was well that I did so, for we came soon to a
place where the track disappeared in a bog, and "Somo-
somo" had to be coaxed and driven over the narrowest
part, where it was quite safe for him to cross, although he
could not be induced to see the matter in that light at first.
After ten minutes' dragging and yelling and beating, he
was compelled to make the attempt, and landed safely
on the opposite side, not without a flounder or two that
made me glad I had had the sense to dismount. Then
one of the carriers opened a window into that strange
storehouse of contradictions and oddities, Fijian char-
acter, and showed me the queerest curiosity it had yet
furnished — a specimen of Fijian sense of humour. He
had watched the horse being got over with a perfectly
grave countenance, but as soon as it was fairly across and
I was mounting again, he went to the side of the track,
carefully picked out a soft piece of grass, laid aside his
load, and, flinging himself down on the ground, began to
roll and kick and screech with a mad, violent, almost
terrifying laughter, that surpassed any effort in that
direction I could have imagined in my wildest dreams.
That an}^ human being "could laugh like that, and not
kill himself, was in itself a most astonishing thing. He
choked, he crowed, he howled, he let out wild, eldritch
PERSONAL IMPRESSIONS
91
yells that woke all the echoes of the black, sinister valley
along which we were travelling; he lay on his face and
kicked, he lay on his back and writhed, he gave himself
over body and soul to a very devil of laughter. And, at
intervals, he screeched, in a voice half choked with
cackling; "The horse wouldn't go over. It wouldn't
go over."
It took some time before I realised that I was merely
witnessing a Fijian struck with amusement, not a man
dying in a fit. When I did realise it, I called him a com-
moner of the fourth degree (which is Fiji;m vituperation),
and told him to get up and come on. But I have never
yet been able to make out where the fun came in.
I had brought no watch on this journey (having
unluckily lost mine overboard from a ship, a little while
before) , and I had been trying to learn to tell the time by
the sun. It sounds simple enough, until one attempts it
and then one discovers that even in tropical latitudes the
sun is not exactly in the centre of the sky at noon; also,
that it seems to travel much faster at the beginning and
end of its journey than in the middle. After a good many
day's practice 1 found myself able (judging by the sunset,
which was about six o'clock), to tell the time within half
an hour or so; but I never got any nearer. As for the
natives, they have extremely little knowledge of time in
any case, and are never troubled at the prospect of being
benighted on the road. That, again, is "the white man's
burden," not any business of theirs.
We did get benighted on this occasion, and extremely
unpleasant it was, trying to bring Somo-somo safely over
the various bad and boggy bits in the dusk. Dark had
fallen by the time we reached the Wainikoro RiVer, which
I knew to be near the town — and behold, there was not
a sign of a human being, and no boat !
92 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
A lovelier spot I had never seen, even in beautiful Fiji.
There was no moon, but the wonderful tropic starlight
burned in the purple sky with such a clear radiance of its
own that the wide glassy river, edged with feathered reeds,
the splendid palms, lifting their dark coronets eighty feet
up among the stars, the orange-trees on the further side,
dropping their juicy globes now and then into the wave-
less mirror below with a dull, dead-ripe splash, all were
plainly visible. It was like a daylight scene viewed
through a piece of deep violet glass. The stillness was
intense ; the palm-trees on the banks stood motionless as
ebony-coloured plumes on a catafalque; the black river
moved by without a ripple. A spot where one could have
dreamed and wondered for hours; where Oberon and
Titania, in the magic starlight, might have.
" Sa senga na kakana, saka " (" We have no food, sir ").
A Fijian has no poetry in his soul — especially if he
has also nothing inside the most vital part of his mortal
machinery. My poetical musings were scattered at
once, and I came down to the plain prose of night, hunger,
an impassable river, and the men wanting their supper.
We had only a few biscuits left — the tinned meat was
unavailable until we reached a town, as none of the men
happened to have a knife. (I don't think Speke or
Livingstone would have forgotten the tin-opener, as I
did.) I gave out the biscuits, reserving rather less for
myself, in the dark, as I knew my hunger was more easily
satisfied than theirs; but the men seemed to guess what
I was doing, and gave back part of their share
determinedly. A Fijian woman would have had to man-
age with the scraps they left ; a white woman was as good
as a man to them, and men must share equally.
We could do nothing but wait for a native to pass ; so
the men made a fire to keep the mosquitoes off; walked
PERSONAL IMPRESSIONS 93
up the cocoanuts like flies, and threw down half a dozen
green nuts, husked them on a sharp stick stuck in the
ground, opened them, and handed them about. Then
they lay down about the fire to eat and drink, while I
walked up and down the river bank, waiting for a native.
It seemed as if no one was likely to come; but after
half an hour or so, I heard a crackling in the woods on the
far side. The noble savages ought to have heard it before
I did; but they never noticed it, being intent on sucking
cocoanuts, and when I pointed it out, they said it was
probably a pig. When the dark form of a native, very
slightly clad, appeared like a slim shadow on the opposite
bank, I called the men up again, and pointed across.
"That is not a pig," I said. They laughed; and one
more delusion about the "noble savage" vanished from
my mind. If he couldn't tell the time by the sun, never
knew when it was going to rain, and did not know a man's
footstep from a pig's, it seemed to me that he was not fit
for his part, and ought to be hissed off the stage.
Gideon, at my direction, yelled to the man and asked
if there was a boat or a canoe. No, there was neither.
They had a canoe, but it was away up the river, and
wouldn't be back till to-morrow. The men laughed —
they always did when we came to a dead-lock — and sat
down at once to smoke. I hustled them up again, and
told them to unsaddle Somo-somo, and lash a few sticks
together to put my luggage on. We should have to swim
for it.
They did as they were told, and I went down to the
river's edge to reconnoitre. I tasted the water — it was
brackish. Now, if there is danger of sharks high up in
the Fijian rivers, there is very much more close to an
estuary. I did not like it.
" Ask that man if there are any sharks," I told Gideon.
94 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
"No shark stop!" he rephed confidently. As neither
he nor the carriers had ever been within twenty miles of
the river, and as Fijians are absolutely reckless about
sharks, I did not set much value on his remarks, but
called over to the native on the far side, in rather bad
Fijian:
"Sa senga na ngeo?" ("Are there any sharks?")
Instead of the loud, comforting "Seng'ai, saka"
("None, sir") which I hoped for, came a complicated
reply I could not translate. Gideon's version was: "He
say sometime shark he stop, sometime no stop."
This was not good enough. Facing the astonishment
of the native, and the amused scorn of the men, I
declared I would not swim; that they must get the
canoe; that I was a great chief, and would assuredly kill
somebody if the Wainikoro people didn't go and capture
that boat, and bring it along, alive or dead — and other
things to the same effect. The men's amusement at my
fear of sharks broke up into fright, and they yelled to the
native to get the canoe — get anything — ^for this was a
terrible marama (lady), and there was no knowing w^hat
she would do unless pacified.
There is no power on earth like that of ill-temper —
real or manufactured. In an hour's time, the canoe
appeared, and Gideon hastily packed my goods and
myself on board. Across the Wainikoro we went,
followed by the small, meek, dripping head of Somo-
somo just above the water, and in another half-hour I
was installed in the usual native house, with the usual
gaping crowed at the doors, and the usual fowl and yam
preparing. Fowl is the one thing that a Fijian eats off
a plate, instead of a leaf. He does not care to lose any
of the precious water it was boiled in, so he always serves
the murdered bird on a tin plate, which in many cases
THK \1LL.\GE PLATE
<^4*wf*'y^*
?<^^^ij^^
i. :,ii.wi Li... COUNTRY
PERSONAL IMPRESSIONS 95
belongs to the village at large, and is sent about
from house to house, whenever a feast is in progress.
There was the usual fuss about hunting up the village
plate while the food was preparing, and at last it was
brought triumphantly in. Next morning, as I left, I
saw it being hurried to the native teacher's house, by
which I concluded that godly men from another village
were expected, and entertainment was being prepared for
them. Yam and ndalo are the common food of the
people, fowl and pig being rare luxuries, except among
the chiefs. In these days, the British Government keeps
some curb on the exactions and tyrannies of the native
rulers, and they cannot treat the " kaisi," or commonalty,
as high-handedly as of old. Yet, even so, the lower
classes live plainly and poorly, while the chiefs annex
everything that takes their fancy, in the way of food, order
the "kaisi" about like dogs, and compel them, as a mat-
ter of course, to work for their superiors without pay. In
Vanua Levu, which is nearly all wild unbroken country,
with very few white residents, I saw Fiji in the rough, and
it did not seem to me that the lot of the kaisi was at
all a happy one. Thirty or forty years ago, their chiefs
could slay them at pleasure. Now they must respect
life, at least; but the kaisi is not allowed to have a
soul of his own. He cannot leave his village without
the chief's permission; he must work without pay as
much as his superior desires, building houses or boats, or
cultivating the communal patches of yam and ndalo.
Ambition is impossible to him; born a kaisi, he must
remain one, and cannot hope for improvement in his lot.
Something of this is reflected in his ways of living and
even his expression of face. In the other Pacific groups
I have visited, a village at dusk is bright and merry,
sounding with music and laughter, and full of lights. In
96 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
Fiji, the towns are dark and silent at night ; there is little
singing, and the amusements are of a quiet kind, card-
playing and yanggona-drinking being the chief. The
Samoan, the Tongan, the Tahitian, or Cook Islander lives
for pleasure and amusement — picnics, travelling parties,
continual dances and songs, games of every kind enliven-
ing his day and night. Chiefs, in these other groups, are
less oppressive, and the communal system, with its care
for the tribe, and harshness to the individual, is much
less strictly carried out. But in Fiji, the kaisi has
not much heart to invent games and amusements. He
can be a jolly fellow enough in his own way ; he is exceed-
ingly good-natured, readily pleased, and delighted with
a joke. Still, at bottom, he has a spring of darkness and
melancholy that is ever ready to rise and overflow the
surface sunniness. His fathers lived lives of gloom and
terror, always under the shadow of the war-club and the
braining-stone, and within sound of the terrible "lali,"
or death-drum. When a chief died, the kaisi were
slain in dozens, and thrown into his grave, because — "a
chief must have grass to line his tomb, so that he may lie
soft." When a war-canoe was launched, it went down
to the sea over hundreds of writhing human bodies, whose
life-blood stained its keel, and whose death- yells sped it
on its way. Living men were placed in the holes that
received the supporting pillars of every chiefly mansion;
human bodies, frequently alive, were daily forced into
the red-hot cooking-ovens that supplied the meals of the
chief. What wonder that the shadow of these hideous
days — ^which can yet be remembered by the older men —
should still rest upon the younger generation?
I left Somo-somo peacefully grazing at Wainikoro next
morning, and went off to look at a stretch of country
immediately beyond, which I had been told was good
PERSONAL IMPRESSIONS 97
land for planters. What I saw was a patch about four
miles long, and apparently not much less in width, com-
posed of low, grassy flats, and pandanus prairie ; all nat-
ural land, but practically cleared. I heard that there was
a good deal nnore of the same kind further along the coast.
No one could tell me what the probable rent might be, but
it could not exceed a very few shillings an acre.
Next day, the horse was saddled early, but we could
not get away at once, as one of my men had gone off
to a mek^-meke in a neighbouring town, and had to be
fetched. It was well on toward noon when we got to
the river again — a few hundred yards higher up this time
but, nevertheless, at a spot where it was wide and deep
— and found that the canoe had been taken away again !
It was irrecoverably gone this time — ^gone out to sea on
a fishing excursion, sure to last till next day at least —
and there was not even a raft to be had.
Could not the men make a raft? I asked Gideon.
Gideon, indifferently chewing sugar-cane, said there
was no bamboo about here. Could they not make one
of anjrthing else? Gideon was not much interested;
did not think so, sir; didn't know what they did when
they wanted to get things across the river dry. Did
not know anything. Obviously wanted to sit down and
smoke.
With the calmness of despair, I extracted my swim-
ming-dress from my box, and went off into the wood.
Returning clad in "rationals" and a cloak, I told Gideon
to follow me with my goods, and to keep them dry,
somehow, anyhow, on pain of frightful retribution.
Then I left the cloak on the bank, waded across the
shallows, feeling unconscionably cold and shaky, but
assuring myself that I wasn't a bit afraid, and plunged
into the fifty yards' stretch of deep water. . . .
98 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
I never swam like that before; I never shall again.
Imaginary sharks chased my horribly conspicuous red
swimming-dress and white English skin right up to the
bed of greasy mud on which I landed. I was half up
the bank before I remembered that my clothes were on
the other side, and that Gideon in all probability would
rather die than bring them to my side of the river, since
it is strictly "taboo" for a Fijian man to bathe at the
same time as a woman. So I sat in the mud, and screamed
to a native woman who was watching the proceedings
from the farther shore; and she (having no fear of sharks,
as I, miserable craven of a *'papa-langi," had), put my
things on her head and came over at once. And I took
them into the bush and dressed, reflecting that Cook
would have made a raft; La P^rouse wouldn't have
minded the sharks, and Sir Samuel Baker would never,
never have forgotten to tie his clothes on his head before
he started across.
So, very humble, I mounted Somo-somo, who was
steaming and dripping in the sun, and rode away, back
to civilisation, as represented by the solitary house of
the kindly white magistrate and his w4fe, who had enter-
tained me at Vuo. It was a long day's ride and a pleasant,
and never, while my mortal frame hangs together, shall
I forget the wild pineapples that the men discovered
beside the track in a baking, sun-smitten little valley.
We were all hot and thirsty, and the fruit, though it
was as warm as if just taken out of an oven, was delicious
— rich, wild-flavoured, and so juicy that the men and I
had to go back to a stream and wash, after eating a pine-
apple apiece — with one over for Somo-somo, who sturdily
begged for his share.
I heard afterward that the Wainikoro River certainly
had sharks, and that recently, just below the spot where
HE liuAI LESS WAIXIKORO
THE WILD PINEAPPLES
PERSONAL IMPRESSIONS 99
I swam across, a native man and woman, crossing with
a dog between them, had seen the dog taken down by a
shark before their eyes. It is well known, of course,
that brown or black people run much less risk from
sharks than white; which may explain the stolidity of
the Fijian mind regarding these horrible creatures. The
river-sharks are not large — only six to eight feet, as a
rule — but they are quite capable of biting off a limb, or
inflicting a fatal injury.
CHAPTER VI
CONTRASTING SCENES
Off to the Ndreketi — Fijian Smart Society — A Native
Princess — The Sugar-cane Dance — Getting Bogged —
The Use of Bad Language — The Ndreketi River —
A Splendid Timber Country — A Native Diary —
Truth about Tropical Forests — How to Live on Noth-
ing a Day
THE next trip I decided to take in Vanua Levu was
a much longer one — up the Ndreketi River, and
into its forests, to see the timber country. The river
was only about fifty miles from my starting-place — a
two days' journey, if the tracks had been good — but it
took me four days' travel to get there. Only thirteen
miles could be covered the first day, because of a tidal
river, that had to be crossed late in the afternoon or not
at all. Tambia, my stopping-place for the first night,
can be cordially recommended to all future travellers
as an excellent place to let alone. We came in at dusk,
and were at once surrounded by the usual crowd; but ii;
was not a pleasant crowd on this occasion. Nearly half
of them seemed to be suffering from unpleasant skin
diseases. One or two were scaly like fish; several were
marked with horrible Fijian "thoko" — a disease that
shows itself in flat, button-like eruptions, turning by-
and-by to formidable sores — some had open ulcers, all
black with flies, on arms and legs; and not a few were
generally sick and decrepit-looking. Their clothes —
I02 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
— only a loin-cloth apiece — were unspeakably dirty,
and every unoccupied moment seemed to be spent in
hunting through each other's huge frizzled heads for
certain small game ; which, when found, were immediately
eaten by the finder!
This unsavoury gang pointed out the Turanga ni
Koro's house, and I entered by the side door; the men,
as befitted their low estate, going in by the door at the
gable end. This, as I have said before, is an important
piece of etiquette in Fiji, the side doors of the houses
being strictly reserved for chiefs and distinguished visi-
tors. Even at the present day, a kaisi who entered
by the side instead of the gable door, would probably
be thrown out again with considerable violence, and in
old times he would certainly have been clubbed.
The chief of the town was not in when I arrived. I
let the men put down my baggage, and seated myself on
the "tabu kaisi" mat (forbidden to commoners), which
the women at once spread at the upper end of the room.
The house seemed to be clean, but I did not like it. It
smelt close and heavy — a faint yet curiously revolting
odour seemed to cling about everything in the place.
I could not make out the cause, nor could I call up any
recollection of a similar smell, even from the varied
experiences of the last few months. I wondered greatly,
but my wonderings soon came to an end, for the Turanga
ni Koro appeared in a few minutes, and limped across
the floor to welcome me, leaning on a stick. His foot,
half hidden by a rough scrap of bandage, was almost
dropping off ;the bone was visible, and the odour. . . .
"Gideon!" I said, turning to my indolent head-
man, who was lying on the floor, chewing sugar-cane.
"This man got leprosy!"
"Huh?"
CONTRASTING SCENES 103
"This man leper? — all same sick Indiaman, Suva?"
"Yes, sir. All same," replied Gideon, taking another
plug of sugar-cane. He had seen cases of leprosy among
the Indians in Suva, and I knew he was almost certainly
right. That anyone could object to a leper as a host
and entertainer did not, however, enter into his view
of life. The Fijians are absolutely reckless about such
matters, and cannot understand the meaning of infection,
which, like the sceptical American farmer's wife, they
take to be merely "an idee in folk's he?ids."
I was sorry for the man, and still more sorry to hurt
his feelings, as I knew I should do, in leaving his house;
but leprosy! the mats and dishes and bed belonging to
a leper — the floor over which he trailed that fearful
stump. . . ! No, it was impossible!
I told Gideon to inform the chief that I could not
possibly stay in the house, because of his sickness,
although I was very sorry to leave it. Gideon told him,
and the chief, sitting on the floor, bowed his head sadly,
and said in a low voice: "Savinaka!" ("It is well!").
I got up and retired, with a few incoherent politenesses;
the men turned a small, passably clean family out of
another house, and I slept fairly well, enveloped in my
closed mosquito-net of fine lawn, till morning. Needless
to say, I was very early indeed on the way again.
Nanduri, ten miles further on, should not by rights
have been a stopping-place ; but who could have resisted
it, especially after Tambia? A big, handsome town
of several hundred inhabitants was Nanduri, with a
wide, grassy main street, and clusters of the prettiest
little houses imaginable running away all round it to
hide themselves in clumps of orange, palm, hibiscus
and flame-coloured crotons. The Roko Tui Macuata,
or Prince of Macuata, lived here, also a few minor chiefs.
104 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
The tone of society in Nanduri seemed as high as in
Tambia it had been low. Clean clothes were the rule;
nearly all the men and women had shirts and "pinis";
there was no visible skin disease, and the town actually
enjoyed the luxury of water laid on in pipes from the
river above! The white magistrate who ruled over that
district had had the pipes laid down, on one of his peri-
odical visits; and the people had taken very kindly
indeed to the labour-saving arrangement of stand-pipes
all along the street, and a shower-bath on the largest
green. This latter was in constant use all day long, the
natives delighting in the cool cataract that descended
from a perforated disc overhead, at the turning of a tap.
The publicity of its situation did not, of course, em-
barrass them at all, but they had some glimmerings of
European ideas and customs in such matters ; and there-
fore, for sheer style, they had enclosed the shower-bath
— ^with a bird-cage of bamboo bars!
The Roko was away; but his wife, Makarita, re-
ceived and entertained me right royally, giving me the
largest of the Roko's three fine houses to stay in, feeding
me on fowls, pork, and the best of river-crayfish during
the whole of my three dav^' stay, and organising various
mek6-mek^s for my entertainment. Makarita's marriage,
which took place only a year or two ago, was quite a
pretty little romance. The Roko is neither young nor
lovely, but he is a prince, and therefore should, by
rights, have married into some branch of the Thakombau
family — ^the descendants of King Thakombau, last mon-
arch of Fiji, under whom the 1874 cession of Fiji to Britain
took place. Indeed, a suitable lady had been selected,
and the Roko was thinking it over, when he happened
to meet Makarita, a girl of good but non-royal family,
and a great beauty, after Fijian fashion. He fell in love
CONTRASTING SCENES 105
with her at first sight, and shortly married her, against
the wishes of all the Fijian "smart set," and the open
remonstrances of his own district. The marriage has
proved a happy one, and the "beggar maid" fills her
position as King Cophetua's partner with dignity and
grace. I photographed her in three costumes — mek6-
meke dress, with mats and arrowroot-fibre kilts wrapped
round her into something very like a crinoline, and cocoa-
nut oil all over her body ; ordinary day costume of brown
cashmere (and very good cashmere at that); and "best
dress," composed of a pink satin "pini" or tunic, sulu
of white-brocaded silk, gold locket set with pearls, and
long gold chain. Shoes and stockings, of course, she never
wore, and her thick, stiff hair was trained upright, clipped
and neatly bevelled off at the edges, in native fashion.
The wretched Somo-somo seemed to be a little sick;
Gideon had been kicked by him, and was rather lame;
Nanduri was exceedingly pleasant — and so I stopped
three days, much to the delight of the men, who "went
out" a great deal, in this fashionable town, and enjoyed
themselves exceedingly. There were card-parties, where
euchre and whist were played with furious excitement
from eight o'clock p. m., until three a. m. — stakes nothing
but the glory of winning. There were yanggona parties,
where the men met to drink, and talk, until daylight and
paralysis of the legs (the effect of excess in this drink)
set in together, and they had to be propped up against
the wall, still talking, while the women fed them with
roasted bananas to drive away the effects of the orgy,
and enable them to walk home. There was a dance one
night at a town two miles away, which simply cleared out
Nanduri; and there were also daylight meke-mekds,
performed for my amusement by the boys of the town.
These last were the only festivals I witnessed, forMakarita
io6 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
politely warned me that the other entertainments were
"no good for me," and I took the hint, and remained at
home. It is unfortunately true that festivities got up by
Fijians are not, as a rule, possible for any white woman
to attend, as they usually end in indescribable orgies.
The passion for card-playing common to Fijians of
every class set me wondering what the result would be
if any one introduced bridge to the natives of these
islands. Judging by what I know of them, I should
suppose that it would sweep like a devastating plague
over the country. Work would be at a standstill, and
sleep and food would be taken only in snatches, while
the natives gave themselves up heart and soul to the new
game. They are excellent card-players, and they know
no medium in their amusements — witness the law that
had to be passed shortly after the introduction of cricket
to the islands, forbidding the game to be played except
on certain days of the week, because the Fijians had
taken to it so ardently that they would do nothing else.
The boys' meke-meke was both pretty and original.
A number of very bright and attractive little brown lads
dressed themselves up in white sulus, and armlets of red
and white flowers. They t^cxi commenced a clever
pantomime dance, singing as they danced, to keep time.
I was told that it was the "Sugar-cane meke-meke,"
representing the growth of the sugar-cane. In the first
figure, they all squatted low on the ground, shaking their
heads, with shut eyes, and murmuring slowly and softly
an unintelligible sentence that sounded like "Eratchi-
keveechi, eratch-k^veechi ! " Gradually they all stood
up together, growing taller and taller, and as they grew,
they waved their arms, and trembled all over from ankle
to crown, like the tall tasselled canes waving in the wind,
and still they kept on chanting, louder, faster with every
SUNDAY MORNIXC, IX NAN'DUKI
&:^'
- ' . . "•- jT'-iir*ti'*7Uwitr-
niL .-LuAK-L ANE DANCE
CONTRASTING SCENES 107
figure: " Eratchi-keveechi, eratchi-keveechi ! " There
were several figures that I could not make out, for want
of proper interpretation, but I succeeded in understand-
ing that one figure, which represented a series of hearty
fights (and nearly broke up the dance, through the fer-
vour displayed by some of the little actors), was meant
to picture the exactions of the chiefs, who compelled the
"kaisi," willing or unwilling, to come and cut their crop.
When the dance was over, I gave the boys some
biscuit and tinned salmon, and left them amicably shar-
ing the small gift with at least forty friends, Fiji fashion.
Nobody wanted to leave Nanduri, myself least of
all; but the Ndreketi was far ahead, and Somo-somo
was well again; so a start had to be made. Away in
the slanting early sun I rode from the pretty town —
away from all comfort, all decent food, all safe roads,
all kindly natives, and, apparently, from all good luck
as well. I lost my purse the first day, and though an
honest youth from a half-caste village (a curious spot, that
village, if I had time to write about it), found and brought
it back, later on, the loss caused delay and vexation
incalculable. Two days' hard travel it took to cover the
thirty miles between Nanduri and Tumba, on the Ndre-
keti. The first day, Gideon all but hanged Somo-somo
by tethering him with a slip-knot. The next day was
a series of perils for the unlucky brute, and anxiety for
me. If I had known all that lay ahead, assuredl}^ I
would have sent him back, and walked, but the mis-
leading accounts I got of the country ahead induced me
to push on. There was no road, no real track even. We
travelled by bare indications in the shape of crushed
branches or trodden grass; smashing through miles of
liana-knotted bush by the aid of knives, struggling
through marshes, scrambling up and down hills as steep
io8 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
as a house-roof, and slippery as butter, and worst of all
— encountering streams every mile or so. Every stream
or river was at the bottom of a perpendicular gully with
greasy clay sides, down which the protesting horse had to
be pushed and dragged, while I walked over on a cocoanut
log; some of them were deep and rapid, and many had
dangerous bottoms of soft clay. And now, after a fash-
ion that was exceedingly unpleasant, came my oppor-
tunity of learning what the people up in Lambasa had
meant when they warned me:
"Don't get your horse bogged!"
It does not sound very alarming, and I had supposed
that "getting bogged" was merely a case of floundering
into a soft bit, a rapid dismount, and a dirty habit,
while the horse got over by himself. Alas! it was con-
siderably more.
I had just dismounted to let the men lead the horse
down a gully that looked much like those we had passed,
and was scrambling up the far side, after crossing on a
log, when I heard a terrified yell from Gideon: "Missi
N — grimshaw! Horsie lie down, by-n'-by he n-dead!",
Turning round, I saw poor Somo-somo, having missed
the jump at the bottom, plunging and struggling madly
in the gully, which was filled with treacherous mud.
He had already sunk up to his belly; his eyes were start-
ing from his head, and he snorted fearfully through his
dilated nostrils, in the very extremity of terror. The
men hauled helplessly on the reins, screaming at each
other, and shaking with nervousness ; it was clear enough
that they thought the days on earth of the poor " Flower "
were ended. They were perfectly useless, and I had never
seen a horse in such a plight, and had not even heard
what ought to be done. The banks were hopelessly
steep; it was not far off dusk; the nearest village where
CONTRASTING SCENES 109
help might be obtained was two hours away — and all
the time, poor Somo-somo, whom I had really grown
fond of, was dying a horrible death, staring wildly at me
in vain hope of help, and breathing now in long-drawn,
painful snores of agony. ... I would have given
twenty pounds for liberty to sit down on the bank and
go into hysterics. If there had been anything human
with a head on it about, I certainly should have done so,
for the sight was indescribably painful, and the feeling
of helplessness still worse. But my three men were
three children of Nature, which meant three useless
babies in trouble of any kind, and Somo-somo 's life
hung on me.
I told one of them to take a stick at once, and test
the depth of the mud. The horse had now sunk to
half-way up the chest. Fortunately, the test revealed
that he had touched bottom, and would go no further.
The danger, however, was none the less, I knew that he
might struggle himself to death, and guessed that his
head would sink when he became exhausted. As for
the men, they were squatting down to their eternal
cigarettes, quite prepared to watch the horse die, and,
with true savage cruelty, to laugh over its expiring
struggles as an excellent show.
"Horsie he n-dead, by-n'-by," was all the answer
I got to my orders, when I told them to get up and try
to help.
. . . Then I lost my manners. It does not matter
what I said. There is a kind of English that every
Fijian understands and obeys. I gave them that English,
reproducing it phonographically from my recollections
of the sort of thing the South Sea Islander mates used to
say to the cargo-workers on the quays. I missed the
real style of it, no doubt, but what I gave them was the
no FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
best I could do, for a first attempt, and it seemed to
touch the spot. They got up and went to work.
I told them to haul on the head-rope, and lift the
horse's quarters with saplings. I made them cut down
a considerable section of bush, and fling it wholesale in
front of the poor " Flower." I compelled them to batter
down the perpendicular bank of solid clay, and cast it
on to the sticks and boughs, at the same time making a
practicable exit. I worked them like mules for over an
hour, and scolded like a turkey-hen all the time. At the
last, a piece of fairly solid standing-ground was manu-
factured, and Somo-somo, filthy, exhausted, terrified and
trembling, gpt out with one final struggle, and stood on
the bank, swaying on his feet, and looking like death.
But he was saved.
There was a long walk through the twilight and
the dark then, and a big, unseen river— the Ndreketi
^l last— to cross in the starlight, carried almost on the
necks of men who were walking shoulder-deep. In a
strange, dim valley, half a dozen natives started up out
of nowhere, and offered me food — bananas, cocoanuts,
odd little packets of porridge, made from ndalo roots,
sugar-cane, and cocoanut cream, tied up in green leaves.
I took it thankfully, and Somo-somo, who had been
walking behind me, relieved any fears I might have
had about his recovery from the late accident, by sud-
denly projecting a yard or two of dirty neck over my
shoulder, and grabbing the biggest packet of porridge
for himself. He was always well fed under my care,
but his manners, none the less, were those of a shameless
buccaneer.
The welcome sound of a white man's voice, calling
out of one of the endless gullies, told me at last that I had
reached the neighbourhood of the little settlement I
CONTRASTING SCENES iii
had been aiming for since I left Nanduri two days before.
In another half-hour, I was enjoying a real meal at a
real table, in the smallest and cosiest of the three "white"
houses that, together with a sawmill and its buildings,
formed the settlement of Tumba.
Here, as everywhere else in Fiji, I met with the kind-
est and most ungrudging hospitality. The white settlers
of the Fijis are surely the most hospitable people in the
world. A dirty, untidy hungry stranger suddenly ap-
pearing from the wilderness is welcomed as a long-
invited guest, given the best of everything, almost fought
over by several eager hosts, and pressed to stay as long
as possible. His entertainers apologise for not being
able to feed him on every civilised dainty known to Suva
or Levuka, and hope he can put up with a room that is
furnished less luxuriously than the guest-chambers of a
big hotel. They neglect their business to "show him
round," press gifts of curios, plants, shells, etc., upon him
when he is leaving, and send him away with a hearty
God-speed and a hope that he will come back again soon.
And the return for all this? Read most of the books
of travel that have been written on the Fijis, or other
islands. Note the sneers at rough accommodation and
primitive living; the unkindly fun poked at people who
have, perhaps, dropped a few of the customs of great
capitals; the "paying off scores" against generous hosts
who have managed in some way to incur the wrath of
consideration-loving guests — and wonder then, as I
wondered, that island hospitality should still be what it
is. A Fijian who eats and rests under the roof of another
regards such hospitality as a sacred claim, to be liberally
repaid in kind if opportunity should arise. A white
man takes all he can get, and laughs at his entertainers ;
would not dream of " knowing them at home," if he should
J 12 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
ever meet them there; and regards the sacredness of
the eaten bread as a fancy only fit for savages. Truly,
we do not seem to send our best a-voyaging in strange
countries.
The timber industry was what I had come up to
he Ndreketi to see, and exceedingly interesting I found
it. There are no woods in the world more beautiful and
valuable than the woods of Fiji, athough want of capital,
and, to some extent, want of enterprise, has prevented
their becoming widely known. "Bua-bua," the box-
wood of the Pacific, is vey common, and grows to an
immense size. It weighs 80 pounds to the cubic foot, is
very hard, and most durable. The "cevua," or bastard
sandalwood — a strong-scented, very durable wood —
grows freely, in logs one foot and two feet in diameter;
and the real sandalwood is also found, though not plenti-
fully. Another useful wood is "vesi," which grows two
and three feet in diameter. It is much like teak, hard,
heavy, and extremely lasting in the ground or out of
doors; it is also rich-coloured and very easily polished.
The " dakua" is one of the most valuable woods; it much
resembles the New Zealand kauri pine, and grows to a
large size, sometimes six and seven feet in diameter. It
contains a great deal of gum, and quantities of this can be
taken out of the ground wherever a tree has been. The
timber is useful for almost any purpose. The "yaka"
might be called the rosewood of the Pacific, if it did not
also, in some degree, resemble mahogany. It is a wood
of the greatest beauty, being exquisitely marked and
veined, and taking a high polish. This is a wood that
certainly should be known to cabinet-makers, and no
doubt will be later on. The "savairabunidamu," a
curious dark-red wood, is extraordinarily tough, and
can be steamed and bent to almost any shape — a valuable
CONTRASTING SCENES 113
quality. The "bau vundi" is a kind of cedar, very
workable, and most lasting. A singularly beautiful
timber is the "bau ndina," which is deep rose-red in
colour, tough and firm, and suitable for engravers' use.
Besides these, there are more than sixty varieties of
other woods, all useful or beautiful, and most to be
found in great profusion. The quantities available
are very large; a great proportion of Vanua Levu and
Viti Levu, and nearly the whole of many outlying islands,
is covered with dense forest, untouched so far, except
in two places — the small island of Ngeo, and the lower
Ndreketi River, where sawmills have been established.
It was the latter place that I visited. The upper reaches
of the Ndreketi are untouched, and there is valuable
timber along the course of almost every Fijian river,
within easy reach of rafts and steamers.
At Tumba Mills, most of the timber is obtained from
the forest eight miles farther up the river. I journeyed
up the Ndreketi in a boat one day, to see the timber
cutting, being conyeyed by four natives from the mill,
and attended by Gideon, who acted the distinguished
stranger, lounging on the seats, and entertaining the
rowers with long tales and many boastings. By this
time I had learned a good deal more Fijian than Gideon
supposed me to possess, and I could understand some-
thing of what he said. One long serial story that oc-
cupied nearly an hour, and was listened to with the
deepest attention and interest, excited my curiosity,
after a while, and I tried to make it out. ... It
was neither more nor less than an exact inventory of
everything we had had to eat since we left Lambasa!
"On Monday," it ran, "we had lots of yam, and
rice with sugar, and tea, and four biscuits each, at the
magistrate's, before we started. And on the way, there
114 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
were some oranges; and Rubeni got a lot of cooked
chestnuts from some people we met. Then, by-and-by,
the marama had lemons and water at a stream, and I
got the sugar she left in the cup, to eat. There was a
good town presently, where the Turanga ni Koro had
killed a pig, and we ate most of it, but the marama had
tinned meat, because she said the pig was sick when it
was killed. What did that matter? At Tambia, where
we slept, we got two plates of crayfish, and yam, and a
cup of tea the marama didn't finish. We stayed three
days at Nanduri, and that was good, for the first day we
had two boiled fowls among us, and yam, and ndalo,
when we came in; and next morning there was broken
biscuit the marama left, and the end of a tin of jam,
before breakfast ; and for breakfast . . ."
So it went on, day after day, disposing of Vanua
Levu first, and then going back into the history of the
journey through Viti Levu, six weeks before — a mar-
vellous feat of memory, and a most curious enlightenment
on certain points of native character. I enjoyed the
odd exhibition very much, until a sudden recollection
sprang up among the tangled oddments of three years'
travel, and brought to mv .xnnd a conversation I had
heard between two highly educated and greatly travelled
white men, on the smartest of the Cunard liners:
"Milan? yes, they do you very Vv'^ell there, if you
know where to go, but if you don't However, the
Hotel makes up for ever37thing. We got real English
food there, the genuine article, beefsteaks not scorched
or stewed, good bacon and eggs, excellent joints and
puddings — what does one want more? We stopped
over at Marseilles. Try the bouillabaisse there — do, old
man! Over -estimated ? Not a bit. Couldn't he) Last
time I went by the Mediterranean route, we found time
CONTRASTING SCENES 115
to run up to Venice, but you won't catch me there again.
Look what they charge you for soda-water! and at the
Z Hotel, where there is food fit to eat, the drains are
murderous; while the Y gives you oil in everything,
and makes soup out of the roasts. No more Venice for me !' '
. . . Was there much to choose, after all, between
the Fijian and the Briton?
The forest, or "bush," when we reached it, was
delightfully dim and cool, after the glare of the river.
A rough "skid road," crossed over with logs, had been
cut through it down to a cliff above the river, over
which the timber was slid into the water. Teams of ten
to sixteen bullocks hauled each log from its home in the
forest to the river highway, and once in the water, the
timber was floated or rafted, according to its weight,
down to Tumba Mill.
The "bush" here has very few flowers. There is
little light under the overarching roof of lofty boughs,
where the sun comes only as a thin trickle of stray beams,
sifted through the canopy of close-set green. Orchids
are found at times; and I heard rumours of strange,
rare blossoms, unknown to botanists, appearing here,
and in Taviuni, a great island not far from Vanua Levu.
(It may interest men of science to know that in Septem-
ber, 1904, some white settlers in the latter island found
a single specimen of a flower never seen there before —
a huge single blossom, shaped like a vase, and larger
across the top than an ordinary soup-plate. It grew
close to the ground, had apparently no leaves, and was
very much ruffled and fluted at the edge. The colour
was a grayish-lilac, with a large, dark-brown, cone-shaped
pistil in the centre.)
". . . Oh, the wonders of a tropical forest! the
tough lianas that barred our way at every step, and
ii6 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
had to be slowly and painfully hacked through — the
brilliant honey-birds hanging like living gems on the rich
blossoms — the marvellous chameleons, three feet long,
that crept sullenly away at our steps, changing colours
as they went! We could hear the fierce, wild boars and
dangerous wild cats crashing their way among the
thickets not far off; myriads of beautiful birds darted
through the air; serpents and centipedes crept at our
feet, and formidable ticks let themselves down from
overhanging boughs, and buried their jaws, through all
our clothes, in our flesh. . . ."
The above, I know very well, is what the reader
expects, when hearing about tropical forests; so I have
done my best to write the kind of thing that is popular.
It will out, however. I didn't see all those things —
though they were undoubtedly there, and I suppose,
therefore, I ought to have seen them. Stanley would
have seen them; so would Burton or Livingstone, or any
decent traveller. The w41d boars and cats would have
come up to call on him at once, instead of keeping ten
miles away: the snakes (harmless all) and chameleons
would have come out of their holes, and off their high
branches, and sat in his lap. or he'd have known the rea-
son why. Even the ticks would have shown their ugly
faces, and submitted to be photographed, like criminals
in jail. But as for me, all I saw was a flight of parrots,
gorgeous green and blue, with red necks, squawking away
across a clearing, and a nest of wood centipedes — hideous,
ill-smelling creatures, the size and shape of large sausages
— on which I nearly trod. It would not have mattered
if I had, as they were not the active, biting kind,, but the
sluggish sort that is only dangerous to a bare foot or hand,
which they burn as if with carbolic acid wherever the
skin touches. These loathsome creatures must live in
CONTRASTING SCENES 117
the shade; the sun is fatal to them. If a wood centipede
stays out too late at night, and is caught by the morning
sun while crossing some unshaded bush track on his way
home, he dies at once, and leaves his corpse rotting in the
cruel rays, as a warning to all won 't-go-home-t ill-morning
bush people.
Venomous centipedes are met with in Fiji, but they
are not very common, and their bite is more painful than
dangerous. I have found them under my bed, and about
the bathroom, in Suva houses — ugly beasts seven or eight
inches long, black, with red legs and feelers, horribly
active, and very ready to bite if touched — but I never
saw them in the bush. The only scorpion I saw in Fiji
came out of one of my own trunks; it was about three
inches long, and I shook it out of a nightdress just as I
was going to put that garment on. I saw one tick, hang-
ing on my horse's neck, as I rode back to Lambasa from
the Ndreketi. The wonderful stick insects of Fiji, familiar
in all home museums, are found on nearly every cocoanut-
tree. They are very ill-smelling, and squirt a fetid fluid
at one's eyes, if handled. Leaf insects I never saw, except
when the natives caught and brought them to me, but
all the guava-bushes have them, although a white man's
eye can seldom distinguish them from their shelter. They
are most miraculous and uncanny creatures, absolutely
leaves endowed with the power of motion, so far as the
most scrutinising eye can see — ^for even their legs and
heads are a precise copy of stalks and small leaflets.
Honey-birds — dainty little black-and-white creatures that
hang on the scarlet hibiscus blossoms, and dip their beaks
into the honey- vessel of the flower — I only saw about the
suburbs of Suva; and wild boars, cats, fowls, goats, or
cattle I never got a glimpse of anywhere. This is not
what is expected of a traveller, I know, and I humbly
ii8 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
apologise for my deficiencies, offering only the excuse that,
like George Washington, I cannot tell a lie, even when
I ought.
A white man cannot, as a rule, find his way about
the Fijian bush, but a native is never at a loss, even if he
is new to that part of the country. He will slash his way
through, with the heavy knife he uses so cleverly, at an
easy two miles an hour, and he will never be at a loss for
food and drink, even though the cocoanut palm is absent
from the forests of the interior. If there are no streams,
there is a thick ropy liana which oozes good water when
cut; and eatables are never wanting. Almost every-
where, the flat, arrowy leaves of a certain trailing vine
advertise the presence of plump yams underground;
wild potatoes are also found, and several other excellent
roots — ^among the best being the sugary root of a tall
thin shrub, conspicuous enough for even a white man to
see at once. There are also plenty of chestnuts, and one
or two kinds of berry. It is small wonder that, in a
country such as this, the native should be accused of
indolence and want of enterprise. If the roadsides and
commons of England grew roasts of beef and loaves of
bread (yams, potatoes and che^^tnuts being fair equiva-
lents of these, for a Fijian), we might find less industry
among our own working classes. And certainly, if every
man owned or shared enough acres of land to make him
independent of outside employment (as is the case with
nearly all Pacific islanders), most people would think
as little about the "sacred dignity of labour" — for some
one else, at some one else's starvation prices — as does
the provoking Fijian of to-day, who will not go and
improve his mind by toiling twelve hours a day in a
big company's plantation, for money that he doesn't
particularly want.
COXTRASTIXG SCENES 119
Land cleared from bush, about the Xcreketi, is said
to be extremely suitable for cocoa planting. There is
also a good deal of naturally cleared land available.
Returning from up-river, I spent a pleasant day or
two "loafing" about Tumba, watching the little steamer
from Suva coming up to ship timber, and seeing the big
dakua logs nm through the mill. The steamer is about
180 tons, and could go at least eight miles further up than
she has any occasion to do at present, since the river,
though not very wide, is extremely deep.
CHAPTER VII
INDUSTRIAL SURPRISES
At the Back of Beyond — The Last of the Cannibals — A
Pleasant Old Devil — The Plague of Fleas — When
Gideon went Wild — Nanduri once more — The Vanilla
Planters — Cattle-ranching in Fiji
THE Ndreketi, or, more correctly, the Senganga
district, is truly the "back of beyond." Here, in
the dense forests, and the lonely, little-known bush vil-
lages, traces of heathenism still lurk concealed, in spite of
the fact that all the natives of the district are nominally
Christian, and attend Sunday church, conducted by a
native teacher, with praiseworthy perseverance. The
"luveni wai" worship, though persistently combated by
the Government, has never yet been fairly uprooted.
This, so far as I could ascertain, is a strange mixture of
heathen "miracle play," devil-worship, and murder.
The natives taking part in it work themselves up to an
extraordinary pitch of frenzy, during which one of them
becomes filled with the spirit of a god, and declares him-
self to be invulnerable and immortal. During my stay
in Fiji, a case of attempted murder was tried in Suva,
which rose directly out of the "luveni wai," as practised
in the Senganga district. One man threw a spear at
another, to prove that the latter was really a god come
down from heaven, and therefore immortal. The "god,"
however, came off second best, being badly wounded, and
crippled for life, by the spear. The other was sentenced
122 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
to several years' imprisonment, as, apart from such
accidents, it is illegal to perform the " luveni wai " at all.
" Tembe-tembe " worship, which is devil-worship
pure and simple, is known to exist, although carefully
concealed, about the Ndreketi. There were one or two
men about Tumba who enjoyed the reputation of being
devil-priests on the sly. One interesting character, who
was always hanging about the house, was known as Tha
Levu (Bad Lot). He is a hereditary devil-priest, and is
sometimes suspected of following his ancestors' footsteps,
though this may be mere slander.
He is a very clever and civilised personage, with an
excellent English education, acquired during a term of
eight years' penal servitude in Suva, which he has not
lon^ completed. In 1894, there was a cannibal outbreak
within a couple of miles of the place I visited. A chief
who had been oppressing the people was murdered and
eaten, with all the ancient religious rites, by Tha Levu
and two other men. The others were supposed to have
influenced Tha Levu, who was only a young man at the
time, so he was let off with eight years' imprisonment,
while his companions were hanged. He has now been
back in his native village for a 3"car or two, and is a per-
son of considerable importance, much admired by his
neighbours. On one occasion, while I was passing
through the village, it came on to rain, and Tha Levu
politely asked me to shelter in his house. I went in, and
was entertained with courteous English conversation, and
photographs of Government House dignitaries. Sub-
sequently, Gideon, who was a perfect sieve of gossip and
chatter, informed me with sly giggles that Tha Levu was
"plenty good man, plenty big man!" and that he had
told my men all about the cannibal feast; said it was
first-class fun (as far as I could understand) , and that he
k
INDUSTRIAL SURPRISES 123
only wished he had a chance of doing it all again ! It was
perfectly obvious that Gideon and the others admired
him immensely, and considered him the biggest hero
they had ever met. I told Tha Levu that I thought his
name fitted him to a hair, and that I would like to take
his photograph to send home to England as the biggest
villain in Fiji. Mr. "Bad Lot" grinned delightedly, and
at once dressed up his head with a huge yellow allamanda
flower, to do the occasion justice. I photographed him
as he stood, and hope the English-speaking public will
admire him half as much as he obviously admired himself.
I much preferred a pleasant elderly gentleman from
across the river, who came up to call one day, dressed
in a nice white shirt and a heliotrope velveteen sulu,
and told us conversationally that he was a "tevoro," or
devil. He seemed rather a superior sort of devil, on the
whole; if he had horns, they were hidden in his stiff,
upright hair, and his tail was certainly not visible. Being
a devil, he told us, he had power over certain other devils,
among them, the demons who governed fleas, centipedes,
beetles and other objectionable creatures. He had heard
that my host was looking for him (which was true), to ask
his advice about the plague of fleas that made the house
almost uninhabitable; so he had come across the river,
and would be glad to do anything in his power, because
the white man had often employed his wife to do washing,
and had paid her well.
What could he do? we asked.
Well, said the kindly devil, he could drive away all
the fleas for us, for they were bound to obey him as their
master; and he would do it at once, if we liked. But
we must first assure him that we believed in this power.
If we disbelieved, it would paralyse him, and he could not
work. No one else had the power but himself. Any
124 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
man could do the simple things he was going to do ; but,
except in his hands, they would have no effect ; and even
he could not make them effective, if he was not helped
by our belief.
We all assured him that we did believe in his power —
truthfully enough, for we had heard of his performances
before this, and knew that, however he had done it, he
had driven away the fleas most successfully and per-
manently from the house of the junior partner a year
earlier.
The "tevoro," thus reassured, called up Gideon, and
told him to help him in moving all the furniture clear of
the walls. Gideon, gray with fright, and shaking all
over, obeyed him, and then bolted straight out of the
house to hide himself in the cowshed. The "tevoro"
went into the yard, picked up a common piece of bamboo,
and lit the end of it. He then returned to the house, and
walked three times round every room, close to the wall,
keeping his body bent double, and holding the burning
end of the bamboo about a foot from the line where the
reed-work walls joined the earthen floor. All the time,
he muttered softly to himself in Fijian. My host, though
a good Fijian scholar, could n^t understand what he said.
Every time he passed one of the two doors, he went
out into the yard, and snuffed the end of the bamboo on
the ground, afterward making a neat little dirt-pie of
the snuffings, and leaving it on the earth. The whole
ceremony did not take more than a quarter of an hour.
At the end, he stood up, and told us:
That the fleas would all go away.
That they would not all go at once; some would go
that night, and the rest to-morrow. (A rather notable
point, I thought.)
That they would not come back.
INDUSTRIAL SURPRISES 125
That we might never trust him again, if all this was
not true.
Then he accepted a present of a shilling and some
tobacco, and went smiling away. I never saw the ami-
able "tevoro" again; but he was certainly a nice old
devil.
All that he had promised came true. That night, the
fleas were much less annoying than before, and the baby,
which had been enjoying very broken rest, slept better.
Next night there was not a flea in the place, and the poor
baby's little bald head, which had always been spotted
as if with measles every morning, was white and smooth
again. If we grown-ups had been "suggested" into
thinking there were no fleas about, the baby, at all events,
could not have been influenced, nor could we have been
mistaken in the marks.
There was nothing in the bamboo to drive away the
fleas, for it was picked up in the yard, just as it lay; nor
are these active creatures so easily alarmed as to be driven
away by the sight of a little flame. Furthermore, if b}^
any sleight-of-hand some native drug had been used, it
would have taken effect at once, and not driven the invad-
ing armies out in sections as the "devil's" proceedings
certainly did. I leave the problem to other heads to
solve, confessing that I find it insoluble myself.
It was time now to be making my way back again to
Lambasa, for the Suva steamer would soon be due there.
But an unexpected obstacle arose. Tha Levu's society,
and (I suspected) the influence of certain midnight
gatherings in the forest, where the Wesleyan religion was
considerably at a discount, had gone completely to
Gideon's head, and he was getting beyond control. A
more curious jump-back toward the primitive type I had
never seen. My civiHsed, obliging, English-speaking
126 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
courier, with the bright, intelHgent face and sunny smile,
had utterly disappeared, and in his place I had a slouching
young savage, sullen, disrespectful, and careless, with a
flattened, stupid face, unlit by any spark of good-humour.
He took no care of my belongings, transmitted my orders
incorrectly to the men, and disappeared for hours at the
time when he was most wanted. This could not go on.
I did not wish to go back to Lambasa without an inter-
preter, as I knew too little Fijian to get along comfortably ;
but I made up my mind to give Gideon a lesson. The
white men of the settlement became interested in my
dilemma, and offered to "talk to him" for me; but I
knew that any such delegation of authority would only
make matters worse. So I waited until he slouched up
to the cook-house one morning, insolently late for some-
thing I wanted him to do, and began my sermon.
It does not much matter what I said. It was picturesque,
and there was a great deal of it, dealing mostly with the
lofty eminence of my own position in life, the many great
deeds which I had (not) performed, and the horrible
things I did to people who offended me. I ran rapidly
over the weak points in his own career, vilified his
ancestry, and suggested that it would be gross flattery to
describe him as food for cannibals himself. I told him
that he was to leave my service that instant, and pictured
briefly but vividly the crawling ignominy of his solitary
return to Lambasa. By this time, my big Fijian was
crying loudly into the chopped cocoanut prepared for
curry, and knuckling his wet eyes with his huge black
fingers. I told him that I did not care if he cried himself
dead; that he did not belong to me any more, and, in
fine, that he was to go at once, and never let me see him
again.
"Where I going, Missi N'grimshaw?" sobbed the
INDUSTRIAL SURPRISES 127
forlorn creature. I made the obvious reply. It convinced
him that I was in earnest, and, rejecting the small pile of
gold coins, representing his wages up to date, that I tried
to hand him, he trailed out of the house, and collapsed
in a miserable heap near the veranda. All day long he
sat there, asking me, whenever I passed: "Missi N'grim-
shaw! 'S all right?" and receiving the same invariable
answer: "No! go away." His anguish of mind rose to
full height when, later on, I went down to the river, and
on board the timber-carrying steamer for afternoon tea.
It seemed to him that I was going away at once to regions
unknown, and he hovered about the bank, his face lined
and drawn with despair. This tour had been the glory
of his life, and he could not face the disgrace of being cast
down before all Vanua Levu, after all his boasting and
peacocking. A Fijian's grief is like a child's — absolute
and intense for the moment, and rejecting all thought of
consolation — and, moreover, his vanity is the very
weakest spot in his armour. Small wonder, then, that
the culprit's wretched, anxious, tear-swollen face almost
softened my unkindly heart. But I did not call him up
till night, and then I only asked him; "Are you going
to be good?" "Yes, sir!" he said eagerly. "Then you
may tell me that you are sorry," I said. He looked down,
and his face grew sullen again, for a Fijian hates above
everything on earth to say that he repents — such an
admission is intermingled with various old customs that
give it a significance unknown to whites. I turned away
to the house. Gideon, seeing his last chance going,
called out; "Missi N'grimshaw!" "Well?" I asked, half
turned away. Very slowly came the reluctant words:
"I so-ry."
" All right, Gideon," I said. " You can go round and get
your supper, and have the horse ready at seven to-morrow."
128 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
It was all right. He ran like a mongoose to the cook-
house, his face split up with smiles ; and thenceforward,
till the end of the trip, I had no trouble with Gideon. A
day or two later, at Nanduri, he came to me and told me
that he had been " levu lia-lia " (very mad) at Tumba, and
that he was "tha" (bad). I agreed with him cordially,
and asked him why he had acted in such a manner. The
question seemed to have a certain academic interest for
him; he debated it seriously, and then said that he
thought the bad people in the woods had made him bad,
too!
That is all of Gideon. I dismissed him finally in
Suva, with his wages and a decent testimonial, and saw
him go off to buy a heavy blue serge coat, in which to
torture and delight himself of a Sunday; a sulu of black
French cashmere, at eleven shillings a yard ; quantities
of tobacco, sweet-stuff, fresh bread, sugar and other
civilised luxuries dear to the native heart. Wherever
he is he is a great man by reason of these possessions, and
his important journey, and is, no doubt, happy and
content.
My kindly hosts warned me, when I left Tumba, that
it would be well for me to ^\ear my revolver round my
waist, when travelling back, instead of having it conveyed
in the baggage. (No — I know Stanley wouldn't have
done that ; but then, he did not care how his jackets sat,
and didn't object, either, to looking like a cowboy on a
spree.) They said that my Ndreketi carriers were a rough
lot; that Gideon might break out again; and that, in
any case, the prevailing customs of the devil-worshippers
had given a bad tone to society up the river. So I carried
the weapon in my belt, and felt indescribably foolish,
but perhaps a little more peaceful at heart than I should
otherwise have been — for, after the week up the river, I
INDUSTRIAL SURPRISES 129
could not feel quite certain that one of these impulsive
children of Nature might not be moved suddenly to
heave a rock at the back of my head, should the fancy
take him as we plodded along.
The bad place where Somo-somo had got into trouble
was temporarily bridged by the villagers for me, and I
got safely to Nanduri in a couple of days, without any
adventure worse than ten hours of drenching rain. My
men were bitterly disappointed when I pressed on to
Lambasa, after a single night's stop at the Brighton of
Vanua Levu; but I wanted to see the vanilla plantation
at Lambasa before the steamer left, so was deaf to
their cunning hints about Nanduri, and melancholy
sighs. . . .
. . . It was at the resident magistrate's house in
Lambasa, a day or two later, that I found Gideon secret-
ing certain torn scraps of paper, and a broken ink-bottle,
that I had thrown away. He was much embarrassed
when I asked him what he wanted with such rubbish,
and only murmured shamefacedly that he ''plentee
learning write, school, Suva. ... "
. . . I shut my eyes, skipped a racial and moral
gap of some thousands of years, and felt firm ground
underfoot. In certain things, the black and the white
(like "the Colonel's lady and Judy O'Grady") are "as
like as a row of pins."
"You can have some of my paper and envelopes to
write to your friends, Gideon," I said in a lordly manner.
"It's a penny to Nanduri by the Government post.
Here — you can have a stamp. One envelope?"
"Thankyouverymuchdeedsir," replied my courier, all
in one word, and getting up to salute, military fashion.
"Seven umvelose (envelopes), seven samps, I liking
thankyousir ! "
I30 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
No wonder Nanduri was popular!
I was very much interested in seeing the vanilla
plantation, for this is one of those new departures that
have irritated the oldest inhabitant almost to frenzy.
Somebody in Viti Levu once failed with a vanilla plan-
tation. That was enough for the oldest inhabitant. He
solemnly cursed vanilla, throughout the rolling ages,
evermore; and to any tentative inquirer his sole answer
was and is: "Don't be a dam fool. It's been tried!"
Nevertheless, a certain enterprising man and his wife,
who were getting rich very slowly indeed keeping a
country store, resolved to brave the displeasure of the
oldest inhabitant and his numerous relatives, and try
whether the magic bean might not do for them what it
had done for others, in South America and the West
Indies. So, in the face of some actual opposition, and
continual ridicule, they expended their little capital of
;^2 5o on the leasing of eight acres of warm, sheltered
valley land, and the planting of 9,000 cuttings of good
Mexican vanilla. For three years, with the assistance of
one Fijian, and occasionally a couple of Indians, the
industrious couple kept their plants weeded and tended,
and, latterly, looked to the f utilising of the flowers —
a rather tedious business, done every day by hand, in the
earliest hours of the morning. And at the end of the
three years the reward came, for the plants were yielding
splendidly, and were expected to give about 9,000 pounds
of dried bean, bringing an average price of los. a pound.
The fruits of the first season were just coming in when I
visited the plantation, and the lucky young couple were
counting up their gains, present and future, with jo3'ful
hearts. Some of the old settlers, both of Suva and of
Vanua Levu, were exceedingly grieved — ^not, of course,
because the plucky pair were making money, but because
INDUSTRIAL SURPRISES 131
they were sure that there was something wrong some-
where, and it couldn't possibly be themselves, so it must
be the vanilla — or the planters — or something, anyhow!
Had they not been saying, all these three years, that the
chemical substitutes for vanilla had ruined the price;
that the cost of labour ate up all profits ; that the climate
wasn't right, and the market bad? — and there were these
people actually doing all the important work themselves ;
the husband getting up at break of day to oversee the
weeding and to fertilise the flowers, with a little occasional
help ; the wife attending to the scalding, and the sweating
in the sun, of the gathered harvest — the beans turning
out splendid in quality, and fetching up to 245. a pound,
with a safe average of 105. — and the whole enterprise
simply "humming!" It was disgusting — so they felt.
Mr. C. kindly gave me all the particulars I wanted,
and furthermore, showed me over his pretty little plan-
tation and modest drying-yard. The beautiful, thick-
leaved vines were trained over young castor-oil shrubs,
in one or two shaded valleys, where the sun was not too
fierce, and hurricanes could not damage the crop. The
work did not seem very hard ; indeed the planter has not
yet given up store-keeping, in addition. According to
Mr. C, there is no reason (except the oldest inhabitant)
why vanilla should not do well in Fiji.
"But remember this," he added, "it's the poor man's
friend — not a gold-mine for companies. Hired labour, of
the kind one gets in Fiji, won't do. You must work
yourself. Care, care, care — that's what vanilla needs;
care and common sense. A man with a family has a
great advantage ; he can set his boys and girls to work."
"Girls? In this climate?"
"Certainly! Vanilla's often cultivated by ladies alone,
with a little help for the weeding, in the West Indies. The
132 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
fertilising of the flowers is exactly the work for a woman's
fingers — just a pinch, and a touch with a match — and
it's done in the cool of the morning. The curing of the
beans couldn't hurt a baby, if it had brains enough to do
it. There's no great mystery in that, either; a good
handbook, or a few talks with a practical planter, should
set anyone in the right way. Yes, my wife and I are
satisfied with the results of our venture — ^v^^e may well be.
Of course, it could be done on a smaller scale, and still
pay very nicely indeed."
Cattle-ranching on a large scale is not exactly the
kind of thing one expects to find in a South Sea island,
but Fiji is full of surprises. It was only one surprise
more, therefore, when I received an invitation to visit a
large cattle ranch on Taviuni, belonging to one of the
oldest and most respected settler families of Fiji. The
T s have been in Taviuni for thirty years, and fortune
has favoured them greatly. If one needed a refutation
of the common idea that no one can grow rich in "The
Islands," this Taviuni family furnishes a ready instance
to the contrary.
Taviuni is one of the larger islands of the group, being
217 square miles in extent. It is supposed to contain the
most fertile land in Fiji, and to have the m.ost beautiful
scenery. The latter claim is hardly just, though the
island is very lovely. Anyone who has travelled much
about the group will certainly uphold the claims of the
Tholo West country (Singatoka and highlands) against
all other.
One gets to Taviuni in a little inter-insular steamer,
which may take a day, or the best part of a week, on the
journey, according to the number of islands that have to
be called at. On most of the islands one finds a " reigning
VANILLA
OX A COCOANUT PLAN TATIOX
DRYING VANILLA
INDUSTRIAL SURPRISES 133
family" of white settlers, who own the place, and make
their living by planting on a large or a small scale. Copra
is the invariable crop. The labour is nearly all imported
Indian, since very little agricultural work can be had
from Fijians.
If the steamer stops long enough, an invitation is
generally sent to any passengers there may be, asking
them to come ashore and lunch or dine. The outer
islands are lonely places, and white society is alwa3^s at
a premium. Most of the settlers' houses and surround-
ings, in spite of the isolation, are wonderfully well kept up,
and there is a standard of education and refinement among
the planters themselves that is astonishing to anyone
who has travelled in the larger British colonies, and seen
to what unfortunate depths the isolated settler and his
family too often descend. Indeed, it is a matter worthy
of very special note, that all over Fiji the white settlers,
old and new, might for the most part pass as town-
dwellers taking holiday in the country, so far as general
good manners and education are concerned. Exceptions
to this rule are nearly always due to native or half-caste
marriages, and these are not at all common. As for Suva,
it is quite the finest and most up-to-date city in the whole
Pacific (with the possible exception of Honolulu), and
there are many important Australian and New Zealand
towns that fall far behind it. Assuredly, Fiji is no back-
water in any sense of the word.
The great success of the T s of Taviuni has been
attained by a combination which they were the first in
the islands to try — cattle and copra, worked together.
The palms on the estate number about sixty thousand,
planted for the most part in regular rows forming arcades
of extreme beauty. Several thousand head of cattle
are generally run on the place, the number varying a
134 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
good deal from time to time. Every boat carries away
large numbers of beasts to Suva, which consumes the
greater part of the meat produced by the estate.
The copra is produced by the usual simple process of
the islands. The nuts are husked and opened, and the
kernel cleared out, by the native labourers. In wet
weather, the cut-up kernels are dried in artificially
heated sheds, while during the dry season they are spread
out on high platforms in the sun. This is all the prepara-
tion required, beyond bagging. Not a complicated
process, certainly, for an industry that pays so well.
Cattle do very well in Taviuni, as in most other parts
of the Fijis, and I have never seen better beasts than the
mob of some thousands that I assisted to drive into the
stock- yards on a certain memorable day of my stay. My
hosts had kindly offered me a mount, and told me that
they did not think the riding would be more formidable
than cross-country work at home; so I accepted. . .
and was more sorry than I should have cared to say, an
hour or so after the start from the pretty homestead in
the early morning. For I then discovered what a good
many British riders have had to learn in the colonies,
that taking a horse across any number of English fields
and fences has nothing in the world to do with taking
him (or letting him take you, as is more likely) over the
broken ground of a rough and wooded tropical country,
in company with a few thousand extremely excited cattle
which have got to be driven all in one direction, to a place
some miles away.
My moimt was a stock-horse trained, and a very high-
spirited young thoroughbred to boot, who wouldn't be
ridden except with a light snaffle, bucked when one held
him in, and could do feats in the way of step-dancing at
full gallop among boulders, gullies, tree-stumps, and
INDUSTRIAL SURPRISES 135
sudden deep holes, that made one suspect him of relation-
ship to a kangaroo. I never saw anything like it before,
and I have almost ceased to believe, at this distance of
time and space, that it ever happened. Horses do not,
and cannot, tear full gallop over country that has not a
level inch, that has as many holes as a honeycomb, and
as many stumps as a hairbrush, that is cross-barred with
gullies, and peppered with loose rocks. ... I must
certainly have dreamed it. Yet it didn't seem like a
dream; you cannot dream that the skin is coming off
the insides of your fingers, and the bend of your knee,
and find, a week after, that the traces of the vision are
still plain to be seen — you cannot, unless you have the
imagination of an Edgar Allan Poe, figure to yourself
what kind of a noise some thousands of cattle make
bellowing all round you — and you certainly cannot, if
you are an unlearned female, evolve out of your own
consciousness the sort of thing that men say to cattle
under these circumstances, when they think they are
safely out of hearing of the visitor — but aren't.
No, the horse and his surroundings were real enough,
though unusual. It would not do to take an expensive
English hunter out to such a place, and trust him to
follow an Australian stock-horse. Your hunter would
be hounds' meat before he had gone a hundred yards,
and as for his rider. . .
I did not get thrown that day, but no one saw the
occasions on which I escaped by the skin of a pommel
from blank disaster; no one saw how often my head
was in the scrub, and my heart in my mouth. I never
thought to get back alive. If the reader wants to know
why, let him take a young spirited stock-horse out round-
ing-up cattle in an extremely broken and woody country,
for the first time of asking — and he will have news to
136 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
tell me, however much he may fancy his riding. It may
be objected that I could not have driven half -wild cattle
in a strange country. I certainly could not, but my
mount could, would, and did. And if anyone wants
to know how it felt, let him imagine himself riding an
extremely active collie over fifteen hands high, driving
a dozen rebellious flocks at once in and out of a tangle
consisting of Stonehenge, Dartmoor, and the New
Forest, all hashed up together — and he will have some
idea.
I did drive cattle that day to some extent; at least,
I looked as if I were doing so, though as a matter of fact,
I was cursing the horse and saying my prayers by turns.
None of the beasts attacked us; I should not have been
sorry if they had, because then I could have stopped
squabbling with the horse myself for a little. It was his
mathematical accuracy of eye that was the worst of him.
He had been ridden by a man hitherto, and he knew
exactly how much space to allow for the half of a man,
when twisting and turning through scrub like an impres-
sionist dancer circling among her own draperies. But
he did not know how much to allow for the whole of me,
and every time he whisked round a tree on the near side
I just saved myself by the fluff of my habit. . . . If I
went cattle-driving every day for a week, I should be
conspicuously pious at the end of it — or else conspicuously
dead.
When we had ridden the cattle up to the stock- yards,
and the men were driving them in, one of my hosts
came up to me, and politely congratulated me on my
riding. (If he had only known . . . but he was too
well occupied during the ride to observe anything save
the fact that I was still alive.)
" I'm glad you've had a good time," he said. " Round-
INDUSTRIAL SURPRISES 137
ing-up is really great fun you know, and we always like
our visitors to see it."
"But mostly," he added, as an afterthought —
"mostly, you know, they fall off!"
" There, but for the grace of God, goes John Bunyan,"
I murmured, as I slipped out of my saddle.
"I beg your pardon?" said my host.
" I was only saying that I hoped there would be soda-
buns for tea," I explained untruthfully.
"It does make one hungry," he agreed.
Planter life in Fiji, in these days, seems to be approxi-
mating closely to what one has heard of planter life in
the West Indies, in the prosperous times of the earlier
Nineteenth Century. The comfortable houses, the con-
sideration of " appearances " that really means the highest
self-respect, the taste for literature and music, the gen-
erous hospitality and free-handed entertaining, the
pretty, though simple dress of the women, the manly,
open-air character of the men, the absence of stress or
hurry — all these things tend to make the planter class of
the Fijis representative of a dignified pleasant era that
one almost fancied had passed away from British colonial
life. Fiji is certainly not as other colonies. A colony,
generally speaking, is purely English, like India, its people
being, in consequence, impatient of their surroundings,
and only eager to get home for good — or it is purel}^
colonial, like Australia, with a new set of national char-
acteristics, which may be better or worse than the char-
acteristics of the home English, but are at all events
quite different. Fiji, however, has steered a course of
its own, and is Colonial and English at the same time.
It is hard to understand why, for the settler in these
islands, early or recent, seems always to have come with
138 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
the idea of making the country his permanent home, and
to have carried it out in most cases; furthermore, he is
usually proud of his country, and ready to defend it
against all comparisons. The fact, however, remains —
Fiji is more English than any other colony south of the
Line. A Briton may be pardoned for thinking that it
is none the worse.
CHAPTER VIII
AN ANGLO-FRENCH DILEMMA
The Mysterious Islands — Where No One Goes — What Hap-
pened to the Cook — A Fairy Harbour — Extraordinary
Vila — History of New Hebrides — What France intends
AT THE end of my twenty months' wanderings through
the islands of the Eastern and Middle Pacific, I
found myself in Sydney, where everyone was talking
about the New Hebrides.
It was September, 1905. The Anglo-French Con-
vention, so Australians hoped, would get to work on the
New Hebridean question almost immediately, and settle
all the thorny problems that had been perplexing and
impoverishing the settlers. There had been fresh mur-
ders in the islands, and a punitive expedition was talked
of. The ''White Australia" cry, which had insisted on
the passing of vexatious tariff laws against all New Hebri-
dean produce, was now being answered by a bitter wail
from white Australians up in the islands, who could not
make butter for their bread under the new enactments.
Altogether, the New Hebrides were providing much food
for talk and guesswork.
It was an odd fact, under the circumstances, that no
one really knew anything to speak of about the place.
The New Hebrides are not very far from Australia — only
about 1 , 500 miles northeast of Sydney — and they are by no
means an insignificant group, since they extend over seven
hundred miles of sea, and some of the islands are sixty
139
I40 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
and seventy miles long. Further, there is one monthly
boat direct from Sydney, and another that goes round by
New Caledonia. For all this, and for all the fact that
Australia understands the group to be the weakest spot
in her sea surroundings and defences, the great southern
continent knows almost nothing as to values, prospects,
and present conditions of the place. . . . True
daughter of her little northern parent, this big Australia,
inheriting the weaknesses as well as the virtues of her
mighty mother. For when did the stay-at-home English
accord to their far-off colonial interests more than a step-
dame's grudging share of interest and help?
I wanted to know a great many things about these
mysterious, murderous New Hebrides, where the interests
of England, France and Australia seemed to be clashing
in a manner altogether inexplicable, but none the less
astonishing. Questions, however, only succeeded in
reaping a remarkable crop of know -nothingness, don't-
careishness, and simple lie. Therewith was always
politeness, for the Australian is nearly, if not quite, as
courteous to women as the American — ^but only two
Sydney people could tell me anything at all about the
place, and their accounts were gloomy. I was not to
suppose that the New Hebrides were like Fiji. There
was no law, no government, and next to no regard for
human life. The natives were murderers and cannibals
to a man; I should be shot, if I went; if not shot, eaten;
if not eaten, killed by fever. Yes, a few travellers had
been, though it was not a tourist place by any means;
but they had all kept to the steamer right through the
trip, and only taken short walks ashore. If I persisted
in going, I had better do the same. But I should do
much better to stay in Sydney, and occupy the time
taking trips about the harbour, which really was . . .
THE AXGLO-FREXCH XA\ AL COMMISSIOX
.^y^-CtJ^
H. .M. h. ■■ rl-.(iAM_ :i ■
AN ANGLO-FRENCH DILEMMA 141
I had an engagement, and I could not stay to hear
about that harbour. People who have been to Sydney
will know why. But I had already heard quite enough to
decide me to follow the traveller's excellent rule of
contraries, and go to the New Hebrides forthwith. All
the really "good times" I have had, in the course of
many thousands of miles' wanderings about odd
corners of the globe, have been obtained by the
simple plan of avoiding the places which every person
should make a point of seeing, and seeking those from
which one is most carefully and earnestly warned
away.
The truth is that in the places where "everyone"
goes, almost no man sees with his own eyes. It is im-
possible to do so, unless you are a savage or a genius ; and
most of us are neither (though a select few, in the course
of history, have even contrived to be both). The cele-
brated spot, whether it be Lake Como, or Niagara, or
the Taj Mahal, Jerusalem at Easter, or Japan in cherry-
blossom time, is like a photograph upon which a count-
less number of others, all more or less similar, have been
superimposed in the well-known "composite" style.
One can only see the famous place through a dim haze
of Brown's, Jones's, and Robinson's historic British feelings
about it, outlined with touches of Smith the great trav-
eller's writings. In the whole blurred, worn-out picture,
each man's personal impression counts for just another
touch of shade set upon a shadow that has long been
there; just another high light lost in the edges of a high
Hght that has been in that precise place for cen-
turies. . . . It is impossible to admire by the bat-
talion, and yet enjoy to the full that sense of an individu-
ality enlarged by experiences absolutely new, that is the
real heart of travel-pleasure. And this, perhaps, is why
142 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
most people, if they would only acknowledge it, find
celebrated places a little disappointing.
Of the regions where "nobody goes," this much may
certainly be expected — they will be fresh. You will not
know beforehand exactly what you are going to see, but
it is sure to be interesting, for where the foot of the tourist
does not tread, strange customs and old ways flourish
undisturbed, and windows are opened into worlds far
other than our own. Also — I cannot tell the reason, but
I am very sure of the fact — there will certainly be some-
thing that is just as good as the hackneyed attractions to
be found along the beaten roads of travel, if not far better
— something very well worth going to, but fenced off
from desecrating tourists' feet by the barriers, whatever
they may be, that have made of the place a land where
"nobody goes." Many and various are these barriers,
in different places — extreme remoteness, want of com-
prehensive shipping services, bad climates, fevers, absence
of roads, of hotels, of proper food, liability to destructive
hurricanes, danger from uncivilised natives — these are
among the commonest causes. The New Hebrides group
has them all — yet it well repays every scrap of trouble,
every hour of hardship inflicted upon those who invade
its fastnesses ; and the beauty and mystery and horror of
the place will assuredly stamp their seal for life upon the
mind that has once experienced them.
From the steamship company that maintains a
happy-go-lucky service about the group, I obtained
much kindly help and counsel. Even their people
did not know anything to speak of about the interior
of the islands, but they gave me useful hints about
quinine and the like, and what clothes and other goods
not to take, and where I should not go, and how
long I should not stay. . . . Advice about the
AN ANGLO-FRENCH DILEMMA 143
islands seemed likely to resolve itself into a series of
negatives.
It was an eight days' voyage up to Vila, in a decent
little steamer that had only two passengers — island
traders both — besides myself. As we were in tropic seas,
and in a wild and strange part of the earth, interesting
things should have happened during that eight days.
They did not— save for the fact that the cook got drunk
and struck work, two days out, and that the rosy-faced,
smiling little captain went down to his cabin, mixed a
deadly draught of all the most abominable and powerful
drugs in the medicine-chest, poured together at random,
and went forward toward the regions of the galley with
the fearful brew in his hand — always smiling. . . .
I do not know why one of the mates said there was
a belaying-pin missing out of the rail, not long after;
for the wise passenger does not intrude himself or herself
into matters that are outside the passenger province.
For the same reason, I must acknowledge ignorance as
to why the cook did not die. I only know that there was
a wild, weird dinner that night, whereas we had feared
there would be none, and that until Vila was reached,
the cook, unlike the captain, "never smiled again."
But even this eight-day voyage in an island steamer
that takes no heed of the gospel of Clark Russell, comes
to an end at last, and there arrives a morning when the
sea is bright with the pale-blue dazzle of sun-smitten
tropic latitudes, and the flying-fish are glancing and
skipping about our bows, and Vila Harbour — surely the
loveliest of all the fairy harbours in the wonderful island
world — is opening out before us.
. Very blue and green and vivid and tropical;
very exquisitely set in peaky hills, and gemmed with
144 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
enchanted islets resting like scattered emeralds on the
turquoise plain of the bay — very far indeed above the poor
art of the mere word-painter, even if word-painting were
commonly read, which it is not — such is Port Vila, a
harbour that may fairly take its rank with such cele-
brated beauties of the shipping world as Rio in Brazil,
the Golden Gate of San Francisco, or exquisite Papeete
in Tahiti, the island of dreams. And it is well that the
harbour and approach are what they are, for the town
itself — the capital of the New Hebrides — comes with
something of a shock on an unaccustomed eye.
Washington, capital of the United States, has been
described as a city of magnificent distances. Vila,
capital of the exceedingly disunited New Hebrides, may,
in parallel fashion, be described as a city of magnificent
omissions. It is principally remarkable for what is not
there. Its splendid hotel, its handsome Town Hall, its
pier and promenade, its public buildings — are still in the
quarry. Its main street can be distinguished from the
surrounding bush, with care and a pioneering axe, since
it has something like a dozen different buildings, distrib-
uted over the course of a mile or so. The other streets
consist of crazy-lettered boards, planted about unin-
habited wilds, and declaring, in the teeth of probability,
that this particular section of guava bush or cottonwood
scrub is the Boulevard de Something, or the Avenue de
Something Else. That is Vila.
On the summit of a high peaky green island, out in
the bay, stands a big gray bungalow that shows prom-
inently among the palms. This is the residence of the
British Commissioner, Captain Ernest Rason, R. N. It
is fashionable, in the New Hebrides, to live on an island
by yourself, if you can, partly for coolness, and partly
because the impulsive manners of the natives, in certain
AN ANGLO-FRENCH DILEMMA 145
parts, are more easily kept in check when one can always
see them on their way to make a call, and get out the
afternoon tea and the Winchester rifles in good time.
Most of the mission stations, and many small native
villages, are situated on separate islets, about various
parts of the group. It is a quaint custom, and adds
much to the picturesque quality of the scenery.
(One of the passengers is trying to make the others
believe that he saw the following house-agent's advertise-
ment in a Sydney paper, not long ago:
" NEW HEBRIDES GROUP.— Most eligible residence for
gentleman's or trader's family, now in the market. Exceptionally
well situated upon the simimit of an island 1800 ft. high, with
splendid outlook over the adjacent cannibal country. The
residence is well out of poisoned-arrow range, and two hundred
yards out of shot of Tower muskets, but tenants possessing maga-
zine rifles can enjoy excellent native shooting from their own door.
The mansion is thoroughly up-to-date, and is replete with every
modern convenience, including bullet-proof bedroom shutters, ex-
cellent hurricane cellar, and handsome, airy fever ward. Good
dynamite fishing all round the estate. Monthly post, and yearly
man-of-war. The punitive expedition season is full of picturesque
interest, and mixed Governments flourish luxuriantly all the year
round in the circumjacent country. "
Was he speaking the truth? Well, I should not care to
undertake a, decision on that point. Strange things hap-
pen under the Southern Cross. But I do not ask any
reader to believe more than he feels inclined for.)
The New Hebrides are a good-sized group of islands,
thirty-five in number, varying from a few yards or acres
to a couple of thousand square miles in extent, and
covering a space of eight hundred miles of sea. The
native population is variously estimated at 60,000 to
100,000, and there are about three hundred French
146 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
settlers, and less than two hundred British and colonials
— ^most of whom are missionaries.
The islands are extremely beautiful, and remarkably
fertile. Three crops of maize a year can be raised with
little trouble. Coffee is largely grown, and there is none
better in the Pacific. Millet, for broom-making, grows
readily and pays well. Copra can be produced in the
New Hebrides to better advantage than in any of the
British Pacific colonies, the Solomons only excepted.
Eighty nuts a tree is considered a very good average
over the greater part of the South Seas. In the New
Hebrides, the figures I received seemed almost beyond
belief, but even allowing for much exaggeration, it
seems certain that the average yearly crop of nuts must
be quite twice as large as in Fiji, the Cook Islands, or
Tonga. I saw more than one tree that had three hun-
dred nuts at once upon it (as I was informed; I did not
count them, since that would have involved going up the
tree with a paint-pot and a brush to mark them off) , and
I heard of one or two that had four and even five hundred.
This is a more important matter than might appear
at first, for the copra trade is the true gold-mine of the
Pacific. The oil that is expressed from the dried nut-
kernels is used in many diiierent departments of com-
merce, especially soap-making, and the demand con-
stantly exceeds the available supply — so much so, that
the well-known firm of Lever Brothers have been buying
up large tracts of land in the British Solomons, to keep
their factories supplied.
On the whole, though they are mostly uncleared as
yet, these islands are quite worth having from an average
trading point of view. But they own other advantages,
less apparent on the surface — to us, though evidently
not to others.
AN ANGLO-FRENCH DILEMMA 147
For no less than fifty years, a tug-of-war, more or
less polite — at present, on account of the entente cordiale,
decidedly "more" — has been going on between ourselves
and France over the possession of the New Hebrides group.
I really cannot say why England has not allowed France
to take them over long ago — it is, however, certainly not
because she understands either the true significance of
the question, or the inner meaning of the attitude
assumed by the rival claimant, for the absence of all
attempts to support British interests in the islands, and
the easy manner in which every point of importance was
passed over on the occasion of the late Anglo-French
Convention, furnish only too much proof to the contrary.
One inclines to suppose that John Bull has simply let
matters slide, so far, because he does not care to be
troubled, and it would be troublesome to come to a
decision one way or the other.
Here is the history, in brief, of the disputed group.
It was discovered by the Portuguese De Quiros, in 1605.
The subsequent exploring, charting, and naming was
carried out for the most part by Captain Cook, though
the French captains, Carteret and De Bougainville, also
visited the islands during the Eighteenth Century, and
explored certain parts. The islands were given their
present name by the great English explorer, who, on the
same voyage, discovered and named New Caledonia—
a rich and valuable country which was allowed to pass
without opposition into the hands of France, in the early
Nineteenth Century. Before this annexation, no one
seemed very anxious to acquire the New Hebrides group,
but from the occupation of New Caledonia, the lesser
place began to come forward. Up to 1878 the settlers
and missionaries were almost entirely British. In that
year, however, an agreement was entered into with
148 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
France to recognise the independence of the islands,
France herself undertaking to do the same. (It is a
fact worthy of note that, in spite of this, six years later
France was negotiating with Germany to make arrange-
ments by which Germany should agree to the establish-
ment of a French protectorate over the group.) In
1886, France proposed to exchange the small island of
Rapa, in the Eastern Pacific, for the right to annex the
New Hebrides. Lord Granville was willing to accept
the proposal, but the Australian Premiers remonstrated
so strongly that it was finally refused.
From 1878 onward, an infusion of French settlers
and missionaries began to flow into the New Hebrides,
and every effort was made by the French Government
to strengthen their hold on the country. The result
has been that the French population now outnumbers
the British; that the commerce of the group is heavily
handicapped where English and Australian settlers are
concerned, and is heavily subsidised in favour of the
French; that British interests are everywhere going to
the wall, and that the French are openly expressing their
intention of acquiring the whole group, now that the
Anglo-French Convention has so obligingly agreed to
uphold the status quo ante. That, they declare, is all
they wanted; time will do the rest.
And now for the inner meaning of it all. Why does
France so ardently desire to obtain possession of a rather
unimportant island group in an out-of-the-way place,
that she spends many thousands of pounds a year in the
subsidising of traders, settlers, and steamer companies,
and brings all the heavy artillery of her famous diplo-
matic powers to bear on the maintaining of a paramount
position among a handful of cannibal savages?
For three excellent reasons: First of all, because
ENTERING THE STOCK-YARDS
HAVANA HARBOUR, EFATE
AN ANGLO-FRENCH DILEMMA 149
New Caledonia — that rich plum among island countries,
a land three hundred miles long, containing almost every
precious and semi-precious metal — cannot be securely
held without the New Hebrides group. The latter is
eminently fitted for the establishment of a naval base,
and contains three magnificent harbours, which neither
New Caledonia, nor any place within thousands of miles,
can match. Secondly, the opening of the Panama
Canal route will bring the islands so much nearer to the
great trading highways, that they will become more
important than they are at present, both from a strategic
and a trading point of view. Thirdly, New Caledonia
is not a grain-producing country; the New Hebrides
group is, and the other needs it as a permanent granary.
All in all, the problem resolves itself, for France, into
the fact that the permanent loss of the New Hebrides
will probably mean the loss of New Caledonia as well,
and, incidentally, of an excellent site for a naval base.
For us, it means that the loss of our rights would place
a hornet's nest belonging to a rival power at the gates
of our most important, and least effectively defended
colony, that British trade would be driven out of the
group, and that a stronghold which is really needed by us
as an offset to the naval base lately established by Ger-
many in New Guinea would be taken from us.
At present, the islands are in the most uncomfortable
and unsettled state it is possible to conceive. There
is no other place in the world where an uncivilised col-
oured race is to be found in an entirely self-ruling con-
dition, owning no real master, and not even "protected"
by any of the great Powers. At the time of my visit
last year. Monsieur Borde, the French Commissioner,
and Captain Rason, the British, could not pass laws, or
hold courts of justice; and there was actually no law
ISO FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
of any kind in the group. If a native murdered a white
man, the only redress was of the " might- is-right " pat-
tern, and was usually applied by the next man-of-war
that happened to come along. If a white man injured
another in any way, there was no legal redress at all. It
was certainly a curious experience to stay in a place where
murder, assault, or robbery were perfectly permissible
diversions, for any one who might fancy such forms of
amusement, and still more curious to see the quiet and
orderly manner in which life actually went on, without
the usual machinery of law and government to keep it
in order. Even the New Caledonia ticket-of-leave ele-
ment, of which there was more than enough, did nothing
worse than get drunk, and scandalise the Grundian pro-
prieties. All this, too, in spite of the fact that rifles
stand loaded in the house of every white settler, "in
case" — and that disputes over the ownership of land are
unpleasantly frequent. ... A strange state of affairs
— ^Alsatia and Arcadia combined. There ought to be a
useful moral attaching to this, I am quite sure, but I
have never been able to find it — which is a pity, because
morals of all kinds, in the tropics, are like ice — valuable,
scarce, and evanescent, and therefore not to be wasted.
In the spring of 1906, some time after I had left the
islands, the Anglo-French Convention, at that time
sitting in London, came to certain decisions about the
New Hebrides. It was arranged that a mixed com-
mission should consider the various disputes about the
ownership of land in the group, and that courts of justice
should be held for the trial of offenders, w^hen necessary.
Regarding the question of annexation, no progress
whatever was made. It had been hoped that some
division of the islands, at least, might have been pro-
posed, but the entente cordiale evidently stood in the way,
AN ANGLO-FRENCH DILEMMA 151
where vexed and thorny questions were to be discussed,
and the upshot was that in all essential matters, the
islands were left as they had been before — no man's
land at present, and France's land by-and-by.
There is no use in commenting on such a state of
affairs, since the conclusions to be drawn therefrom are
plain enough to anyone interested in matters of the
kind. But it is, perhaps, worth while observing that
the effect on the progress of the islands toward civilisa-
tion is, apart from political questions, entirely blocked
by the absence of all real authority over the natives. I
do not think that the most fervent advocate of the rights
of the natural man could uphold the claims of the un-
tamed New Hebridean to the freedom of his forefathers,
or sentimentalise in this case over the "noble wild man"
doomed to bow beneath the yoke of an oppressive civilisa-
tion. The New Hebridean, in his native state, is neither
more nor less than a murderous, filthy, and unhappy
brute. Tamed, cleaned, restrained from slaying his
acquaintances either wholesale or retail, and allowed
to live his life in peace on his own bit of ground, he is a
passable poor relation of the Maori or the Zulu, and can
even get on comfortably with his white neighbours,
growing and drying copra for them to buy, or doing a
little casual plantation work, and so collecting enough
money to furnish himself with tobacco, matches, soap,
cotton-stuff for the minimum of clothing that he wears,
ship's biscuit and tea and a bit of tinned salmon now
and then, a rough lamp for his hut and oil to burn in it,
and a pot or two for cooking. These are practically all
the luxuries of civilisation that the average islander has
any desire for, but their possession marks an immense
stride in the scale of progress for the "reclaimed" native
who gets so far.
152 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
At the present date, there is the merest fringe of such
Hfe, scattered about an impenetrable mass of utter bar-
barism. The missionaries, in sixty years' work, have
contrived to tame down completely a few of the smallest
islands, and to make a little impression here and there
upon the edges of the larger ones. But, in spite of the
work done by missions, the fact remains — patent to all
who have seen the islands as they really are, both on
and off the steamer routes — that the New Hebrides will
never be completely tamed except by force. Once
that is done — once the power of the mountain and bush
tribes is thoroughly broken, and their prestige among
the lowlanders taken quite away — the work of the mis-
sionaries will go on toward something more like an
encouraging result than it can show to-day. The lives
of the white settlers will be safe ; property will be secure ;
trade will be uninterruptedly carried on, and the group
will be twice as well worth having as it is to-day; while
into one of the darkest spots on the surface of the earth,
the light of civilisation and decency will have been
carried.
I do not wish to minimise the work of the mission-
aries, though one must allow thdt there is a good deal
less of the martyr about it, even here, in the worst
of the Pacific Islands, than the popular fancy imagines.
But one would certainly wish to see it carried on hand
in hand with the work of a strong and able government,
which could forbid the sale of poisonous spirits to the
natives, disarm the tribes, compel traders to cease
selling rifles and ammunition, and impartially punish
all offenders, white or black. This has been done
to a great extent in the British Solomons, and could
be done in the New Hebrides without any real difficulty
if they were once annexed or partitioned.
AN ANGLO-FRENCH DILEMMA 153
Various proposals have been made by Australia
and New Zealand from time to time, with the view
of settling this long unsettled matter. Australia has
certainly little right to talk, since she has of recent
years practically ruined British trade in the New
Hebrides, by imposing heavy duties on all island pro-
duce that enters her ports. However, one of her propo-
sitions, made a couple of years ago in an unofficial manner,
was that New Zealand should give over the Manihiki
Islands to France, for the undisputed possession of the
New Hebrides. No one seemed to be aware that the
suggestion was entirely impracticable, and even insulting
to France — since the Manihiki Islands consist simply
of two small coral atolls, each a mere strip of barren land
circling about a central lagoon some four or five miles
long. Mr. Seddon, just before his death, suggested the
exchange of Mauritius for the group. This was a better
idea, but it missed the main point of the difficulty — that
the New Hebrides and New Caledonia must be con-
sidered dependent on each other, and that any offer
of exchange should be based on an acknowledgment
of this fact. In any case, the French refused to
consider it.
French opinion in the group is plain. Whatever
the official utterances of France may be as to the
absence of all desire to annex, they are not upheld
by the colonists, by authorities in New Caledonia, or
by the local press. All these are loud in urging annex-
ation, and jubilant over every move that tends toward
the desired end. Pressure of an unobtrusive sort
has been put upon British colonists of late. The
English or Australian settler often finds his way a hard
one, unless need or greed drives him to discard his
nationality, and take out French papers of naturalisa-
154 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
tion. Then all is smooth. Duties are in his favour,
instead of against him, subsidies help him out, enemies
become friends. . . . The astonishing thing is that
the British colonists, so far, have taken next to no
advantage of this state of things. Their flag is an
expensive luxury, but they stick to it.
CHAPTER IX
THE NEW HEBRIDES
New Hehridean Natives — Life in an Explosive Magazine — •
The Delights of Dynamite Fishing — The Sapphire
and Snow of Mele — On a Coffee Plantation — Plan
to Eat a Planter — The Recruiting System — The
Flowering of the Coffee
POLITICS apart, it was the Islands again, and I was
glad, for I had learned to love the island world.
Yet it was not the Islands as I had known them, in the
dreamy Eastern Pacific, and in quaint Fiji, the link
between East and West. Where were my island
friends, my sunn^^-faced, subtle-minded brown Tongans
and Samoans — gay Aitutakians, Raretongans, Manihi-
kians, pleasant folk of Kandavu and Mbau, comical
Niueans, lovely women of far Tahiti, with their rose
and lilac tunics, their welcoming songs, their merry
laughter? Ill substitutes indeed were these ugly
creatures with flat savage features and unkempt hair,
paddling silently about the ship in ill-made log canoes,
wearing scarcely a rag apiece, and staring at the strangers
with sulky ungenial faces? Most of the men had rifles
on their shoulders, and bandoliers of cartridges across
their naked chests. All were silent, sullen, ugly. . . .
The Islands — yet not the Islands, as I had known them,
for my island friends were not there.
Coffee-coloured gentlemen of the Western Islands —
Fijian chiefs with manners that would not disgrace a
I5S
156 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
royal drawing-room, and wise, kindly, well-bred faces —
who could classify you in the same scale of creation
as these gorilla-like creatures? It is true that in Vila,
nearly all the natives one sees have been civilised and
Christianised, after a fashion, at the hands of the Pres-
byterian or Catholic missionaries. But in many cases
the Christianity is wearing very thin, and constant
association with the unregenerate heathen of the plan-
tations, who are usually recruited from the cannibal
islands further north, does not tend to strengthen what
little piety the converts possess. The popular idea
of the New Hebridean, for a wonder, comes very near
the truth. He is supposed to be, and is, treacherous,
murderous, and vindictive. He is to the full as sensual
and indolent as the Eastern Islander, and lacks almost
every virtue possessed by the latter. He is almost
inconceivably clumsy and stupid in a house, or on
a plantation; almost devoid of gratitude, almost
bare of natural affection; ready to avenge the smallest
slight by a bloody murder, but too cowardly to meet
an enemy face to face. Yet there are a few things
to say in his favour. He is wonderfully honest —
so much so, that in the bush districts, a coin or a lump
of tobacco found by the wayside will never be appro-
priated by the finder, but will be placed in a cleft stick
at the edge of the track, for the real owner to take
next time he may chance to pass that way — and if
the possessor never returns, the "find" will remain
where it has been placed until some white man, or
some "civilised" native from a plantation, passes by
and appropriates it.
In some cases, the New Hebridean is found capable
of receiving education, filling the post of plantation
overseer, or learning to be a good house servant; though
THE NEW HEBRIDES 157
such instances are very rare. The people of Aneityum
and Erromanga, being Christianised and civiHsed as far
as is possible to the race, have reached a general level
about equal to that of an intelligent English child of five
or six; Vila is quite a civilised spot, as far as it goes,
and in none of the Christianised districts of the group
is any malicious attack to be feared by the traveller.
For all that, the capital and the small settled districts
on the other side of Efatd are not quite the safest places
in the world. People who are nervous about firearms
assuredly cannot enjoy a happy existence there. Every
native has a gun, and almost every one carries it — loaded,
cocked, and slung about at every conceivable angle. It
is only intended for pigeons and flying-foxes, but that
it does not bring down nobler game any day in the
week is emphatically a matter more of "good luck than
good guidance." Some weeks before my arrival, a
Vila trader, peacefully parting his hair before the glass,
was interrupted by a rifle bullet, which sang across his
room, and buried itself in the wall beside the frame of
the mirror. The trader, not being troubled with nerves
(few people are, in the New Hebrides, else they would
not be there), calmly finished his toilet, and then picked
the bullet out of his wall, as a trophy. Not long after,
the Vila missionary gave a party, and asked some people
over from the mainland. They arrived rather late for
tea — giving as explanation the fact that they had been
peppered with rifle bullets coming across! As they
could not make out where the shots were coming from,
they thought it best to take a round, though convinced
that no malice was intended. This kind of thing is
fairly frequent; but little harm has yet been done, and
no one seems to mind.
"It is rather like living in a nursery full of naughty
158 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
children, all armed with cocked and loaded guns, which
you mustn't take away from them," observed the
British Resident Commissioner to me one day.
It was rather more like living in an explosive maga-
zine, to my mind. As the islands belong to nobody,
and the British and French Commissioners are only
there to hold a "watching brief" for their respective
countries, without possessing any real governing power,
the native is free to follow his ov/n uncivilised will,
in the midst of stores filled with firearms, ammunition,
and explosives of many kinds — all of which are specially
intended to charm the hard-earned plantation wages
out of his pocket. (Yes, he has a pocket, though
sometimes it comprises almost all his clothes, with
a boar's tusk on the breast, and a pig's tail in each
ear, for style.) Dynamite, for fishing purposes, is
sold by the stick as freely as tobacco, and handled
without the smallest care. Percussion caps, loose
gunpowder for the old-fashioned muskets that so many
natives own, cheap sulphur matches, and cartridges
of many kinds, seem to be necessaries of life to most
of the islanders, and are stored anywhere and anyhow.
It is not much to be wondered at that one-armed and
one-handed men are rather common sights about Vila,
nor that the piles of squared coral stone that mark
the native graveyards, under the seaward-looking palms
by the shores of the green lagoon, should hide beneath
their rudely fashioned cairns the tale of many a worse
disaster.
" Dynamite fishing is real good sport, but it's a nice
job, mind you," observed a member of the Australian
trader family with whom I had arranged to board during
m}^ stay in Vila. " I'm pretty good at it m3^self, but I've
seen things happen. . . . There's some of them at
THE NEW HEBRIDES
159
it now; there's always a few out. Come on the back
veranda and I'll show you."
I went out as requested, and saw the commonest
sight of Vila Harbour — a canoe lying in the water near
the shore, a native putting a match to something, and
throwing it into the sea; a dull booming explosion
and a fountain of updriven water, and then a scrambling
and scooping over the side of the canoe.
"So that's dynamite fishing?"
"Yes. Capital fun too. You put a bit of fuse
on to the end of a stick of dynamite — a short bit, mind
you — and then you light it and chuck it away. It
kills a lot of fish, if it explodes close enough to the water.
The natives cut the fuse too short, sometimes, they're
that careless, and then things happen. One wants to
cut right, and throw right. If the fuse is too long, the
sea will touch it before it's had time to explode the cap;
and if you throw too far away, the explosion's over
before it nears the water. Some fellers they "sky"
the stuff, so's they can let it have a longish fuse, but I
know a cove who skied it too straight, and got it right
in the boat again. What happened? Well, what 'd
you expect? . . . The sharks were handy about, and
they cleared up the mess. Another feller, he bit the ash
off the fuse with his teeth, and the native boys that was
left in the boat didn't think it worth while bringing
of him home without his head, so they took the boat
and scooted to their own island. I know all about it,
though, and you'd better come out with me if you'd
like to learn. It's worth your while, too, for you can't
do it in most islands; governments, when there is such
a thing, alwa3'S puts a stopper on it right off."
There is a trader in Vila to-day who has a very poor
opinion of the courage of Englishwomen — I shall not
i6o FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
say why. But — I have never learned to fish with
dynamite, and I am still happily possessed of both
my arms, and all my head. And, now that many
months have passed since I sailed away from the explosive
New Hebrides, I find myself able at last to avoid the
insane tendency to pick up my skirts and hurry inland,
that used to beset me at first, whenever I saw a harmless
boatful of fishing excursionists, gliding along a placid
British shore.
But, after all, Vila and its surroundings were not
what I had come to see. So, after a week or two spent
in the "capital," I decided to leave behind its stores
and street, its lumbering drays laden with sacks of maize
and coffee for the steamer, its Continental-looking
restaurant and caf^, its smart, sallow, well-dressed
women (a Frenchwoman will "make her toilet" even
in the Cannibal Isles) — and ride away into the bush,
where the coffee-growing country was, and one might
see New Hebridean plantation life at its worst and best.
The morning was dim and pearly, and the harbour
lay in long unruffled levels of crystal-gray, under the
shadow of green, gold-crested islands, when . . .
No, I cannot tell a lie. That was certainly the time
of day, and the scene that should have witnessed our
setting off. It would have been, in any decent book.
But we didn't set off in a book, my two English planter
escorts and myself. We set off in the actual dust of
the scorching Mel^ road, at half -past eleven instead of
six, just when the sun was at its very worst, the green
islands gray with heat, and the harbour almost too
glaring to look at, from under the brim of a wide-leafed
plantation hat. And if anyone wishes to know why,
that person had better try how long it takes to get
THE NEW HEBRIDES i6i
three people and three horses off in the morning, when
there is a big journey ahead. If he has tried, he will
not need to ask.
Undine Bay was our destination, thirty miles away,
and we all carried our goods with us — baskets and
saddle-bags containing clothes, food, billy-cans, and
other et ceteras, so that we looked, as we cantered along
the dusty track in single file, like Alice's White Knight
multiplied by three. Our horses were nothing to boast
of. Mine, not to embroider upon the humble truth,
was a cart-horse, nothing more. Indeed, one might
well have wished him less, for he was certainly over
sixteen hands, and had the paces of a hippopotamus,
but he was the only four-legged beast to be had for
hire in Vila, so choice there was none. Of his various
iniquities during that long, long, burning ride — of his
utter disregard of whip, heel, or rein — ^his iron neck
and jaw of cast steel — his unpardonable habit of trying
to scrape me off, like an inconvenient barnacle, under
the boughs of thorny lemon-trees — his blunder-headed
trampling on, after a million-hooked "bush-lawyer"
vine had fished for me and caught me, and was tearing
agonising bits out of my flesh — his heavy-hoofed sliding-
down nightmare descents, and low-bred, snorting panic
in deep boggy fords — of all these, I shall say nothing
The "gentlemen of England, who sit at home at ease " — on
properly broken horses, and never know from the cradle
to the grave why you carry a tomahawk in bush riding,
and what happens if you, or your escort, don't use it
quick enough — these pampered people would not under-
stand. . . . Yet we who have experienced such things
are the happier, for it is in the Anglo-Saxon blood,
gentlemen ; and some of you who read ^nis page without
understanding, will come to your own one day ^A'ith
i62 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
the creak of the high-pommelled saddle under you,
and all about you the scent of the unbroken forest where
no man's foot has passed. Then you, too, will know.
I had travelled the South Seas over and over before
I came to Efat^, but never from Papeete to Penrhyn,
and from Tutuila to Savage Island, had I seen such
colouring as I saw that day on Mel^ beach, where we
rode along the shore before we turned into the forest.
It was an immense beach of powdered coral, miles
long, and hundreds of yards wide, and it was so ex-
ceedingly white in the raging sun that its scoops and
shadows were blue of ultramarine, like the shadows
on a plain of snow. You could see the colour of the
air as you rode across this wide white plain, and it
was blue, clear blue, as though you swam in water.
Sapphire and snow was the whole marvellous picture —
the foreground was one huge sweep of blinding white,
the mountains far away were blue, the sea was blue
the sky was blue — ^the shallow lagoon was shot with
unnameable hues of changing hyacinth, and M^l^ island,
floating on a crystal plain, was one entire and perfect
turquoise. ... A very miracle of colouring, flung
down by Nature like a gauntlet of defiance in the face
of the luckless traveller whose trade it is to juggle with
words — "Draw that; tell that that, if you can!" ran
the challenge. . . . Spirit of wonderful Mel^! I have
not told, for I could not.
After we left the beach of Mele, we rode for ever
and for ever, or so it seemed, through the bush, over
narrow foot-tracks that only admitted our party in
Indian file. The light was dim and green most of the
day, for the New Hebridean "bush" is true tropical
forest, and the sun cannot pierce its dense roofing of
THE NEW HEBRIDES 163
leafage and knotted liana. Great banyans, their out-
running branches supported by companies of close-
ranked pillars, made strange imitations of shrines and
temples in the shadowy depths of the wood. Enormous
trees, whose names I never knew, shot up dark colossal
trunks with plank-partition roots buttressed as high
as our heads. Leaves of the wild taro plant, sappy
and juicy, lifted giant hands of green, as large as a
tea-table, on nine-foot stalks. Strange reddish figs,
odd pink and yellow berries, showed in the undergrowth,
some poisonous, some good for food; and wild nuts
and almonds of many kinds, without a recognised
name, crackled on the ground under our horses' hoofs.
. . . At night, nearing our destination, we plodded
across a plain of dry rustling reed-grass, where wild
boars, feeding upon wild yams, crashed and snorted
aside at the sound of our horses' hoofs. Roast pig
and roast potato, fat parrots and wood-pigeons; cocoa-
nuts, almonds and fruit in the woods; fish from the
lagoon — when the uncultivated land and unrented sea
provide so much as this for the mere trouble of taking
and cooking, can it be wondered at that labour for the
white man's plantations has sometimes to be recruited
by methods that do not exactly send up a sweet savour
to heaven?
Plantation life in the New Hebrides, however, is
peaceful and pleasant enough — on the surface. When
you live very many miles from your nearest white
neighbour — when you and your black labourers are
cut off from all the rest of the earth by a belt of densest
jungle on one hand, and a bar of sailless sea on the
other — it comes about, for the most part, that you
grow to be easily pleased, and contented with little.
The planter's wife and family are far more to him than
i64 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
the city man's; they are all his social circle — it is his
own sons who smoke and talk politics with him in the
evenings, and his own daughters who make concerts
with the old harmonium and the new violin, and hang
out spring exhibitions of pictures on the walls, and
get the new books and magazines down from Sydney
to make a small "home literary circle," all under the
one galvanised-iron roof. And the mother — ^well, there
is time to recall the long-gone hours of youth, in these
endless island days; and women, for all the fever and
the climate, and the hard work over hot stoves that
cannot be left to the charge of native servants, don't
lose their charm in the isolated plantation life as fast as
they lose it in the rush and strain of society. . . . Yes,
they keep their complexions better in Melbourne or
Wellington, and there is a smarter twist to a ribbon,
down there, and a more fashionable coil of the hair,
but . . . Nature knows many things she does not
tell to the city-dweller, and it's not so lonely in the bush
after all, for a married pair who learned long years ago
that they have made no mistake. For the others— -w^ell,
you do not find them in the lonely forest homes.
He is trading somew^here along Ihe coast; she is with
her friends in Sydney, because the children must be
educated, and the islands never suited her health, in any
case. There is nothing like the bush for testing to its
farthest limit the strength of that "silver link" and
"silken tie."
Very early, in the brief cool hours of the day, the
planter and his sons are off on their horses, after a
cup of the fresh perfumed coffee made from berries
gathered in the woods below. All morning they are
walking and riding about, overseeing the labour, giving
orders as to pruning, planting, gathering. At
THE NEW HEBRIDES 165
midday they ride home to a bath and an early dinner —
salt meat, tinned meat, or a bit of goat for a treat;
wild tomatoes and peppers; a pudding made from
the arrowroot that grows in the garden (and if you
think, you people in Europe, that you get real arrow-
root when you pay for it, come to an island plantation
and learn the difference) ; oranges and bananas, also
from the garden; baker's bread, made by the ladies
of the house, who are the only cooks. . . . One is not
luxurious, on a coffee plantation, but there is all a man
may reasonably want.
The heat of the day is now at its worst, and the
planter takes a nap in his long chair, while his wife,
tired with cooking, dozes on the cane sofa. The daughter
says she is going to have an attack of fever, but will be
out for tea — and goes off to her own room to spend an
unhappy few hours of sickness and shivering. Every
one expects a dose of this kind now and then, and takes
it as all in the day's work. There is not much fever
on this especial plantation, but on others lower down
it is so bad that a yearly visit to the colonies is a necessity,
to keep the owners in passable health.
Evening sees the men back from a second ride about
the estate, the daughter recovered, tea on the table,
the sun down, and the short tropic day over. By-
and-by there will be music; at present, there is talk. Not
of "news" — the green rampart of the forest and the
blue bar of the sea shut off all the outer world, and
save at steamer-time once a month, empires may rise
and fall, and kings may die, but the plantation knows
not of it. The talk is of the happenings of the day —
and startling enough some of them are, to a stranger ear.
"That big chap from Sou'-West Bay is sick — tree
fell on him."
i66 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
" Is he? The fellow that tried to axe me last week?"
"Oh no, not that one. It's the fellow you found
sneaking behind the cook-house on Sunday morning."
"Hope it'll keep him out of mischief, then; he's
as cheeky as they make them. He'd no business at
the house."
"Hadn't you better shift your bed?" asks one of the
ladies, sugaring his tea.
" No, rather not ! sick or well, he's a rotten bad shot."
I ask for an explanation, and am told that the labour
imported at a wage of forty shillings yearly from the
wild cannibal parts of the group, grows unmanageable
at times, and is prone to avenge small slights by shoot-
ing its employers — preferably after dark, through the
bedroom window.
"No one likes that fellow, I think," says the daughter
of the house, conversationally. "Why, it was only
the other day that I caught Ata, the kitchen-girl, putting
rat-poison in his rice to kill him. I'm afraid she's an
ill-natured girl herself."
"What did you do? and don't you think she may
poison you some day?" asks the guest with interest.
"Oh, I boxed her ears, and threw away the rice.
She won't poison us; of course, we keep the poisons
locked up — I really don't know how she got at that!"
"Our boys aren't a bad lot, but I do think young
X might be a little more careful with some of those
he's got," observes my host. "He lives down in the
bay, you know. An Aurora man of his has laid for
him twice with a tomahawk — fellow that has murdered
three natives already — and X has him as house-
boy, just to show him he doesn't care. Of course, one
doesn't want to send away a good strong boy because
he's made a swipe at you with an axe, or lifted a gun
THE NEW HEBRIDES 167
at you, but it's more sensible not to have him in the house
when you Hve alone, as he does."
"Q was uncommonly near getting it from one
of his lot," observes the son, spooning guava jelly
liberally on to his plate. " It was quite a funny thing.
Seems they'd planned to shoot him from the scrub,
and take his body off into the bush to eat (Q never
could make his men respect him, to my mind), and
I'm blessed if the cunning beggars didn't clear a path
ready to carry him away; cut it all but the last yard,
and left that to hide the opening. Well, Q had
a friend who happened to turn up in a boat all the way
from Vila for a call, that very day, and the two of them
were walking about the estate together the whole after-
noon; and every time the beggars hid in the scrub
tried to pot him, the friend happened to be in the way!
Q heard all about it afterward, and he simply roared.
So, when they found it was no go, they got tired and
cross, just like they do, and they agreed they couldn't
be bothered to shoot him, but they'd steal his boat
and run away. And they did, and Q never caught
them. Funny story, wasn't it?"
It was just the day after this, that an invitation
arrived from the plantation of the gentleman whom
I have called X , to luncheon at his house. It
was within fairly easy riding distance, so all my host's
family took a holiday, and we rode down in a body.
Mr. X was a young Oxonian, not twenty-four
years of age, who had been through most of the Boer
War, and found himself unable to settle down to an
office life at home, afterward. Accordingly, he bought
a plantation on Efate, and started out, with the assist-
ance of two other youths (all three under age at the
i68 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
time), to handle some dozens of untamed cannibals,
run a good many acres of coffee and millet, and, like
the virtuous youths in the stories, to make a fortune.
The fortune, owing to the duties lately levied against
all New Hebridean produce by Australia, has not yet
come, and the white partners have taken up other
employment. But this adventurous young Englishman
remains alone among his men, managing the plantation
without help, and quite convinced that good luck is
not far ahead. . . . These are the things that mere
schoolboys of the British race can do, when you take
them away from the grandmammas and aunts at home,
and turn them loose in the wilderness to shift for
themselves.
We had lunch, and a very good lunch too, in the
planter's little one-storied bungalow — ^built by those
three adventurous boys a year or two ago, when they
first took up the land. They lived meantime in a
refuge close to the site of the present house — a cavern
that might have come straight out of the illustrations
to a Ballantyne boy's book — ^big as a church, hung
with tapestry of trailing green vines at the mouth,
and fitted inside with a natural table and beds of rock.
Did ever three lads in their teens enjoy a more complete
realisation of a "story" life?
The lunch was not at all badly served, by a fierce-
eyed, sullen fellow in a very clean shirt and kilt — who,
as our host triumphantly assured us, was the much-
discussed murderer himself.
"That's what you call local colour, I suppose,"
said one of my hosts, evidently pleased to have the
institutions of the country shown off for my benefit.
(The murderer snatched over my shoulder for my empty
plate. He was a good waiter, but rather brusque.)
THE NEW HEBRIDES 169
I agreed that it was.
The " blackbirding " days are gone in the New
Hebrides — the gay old times when recruiting schooners
simply kidnapped the men they wanted, and sold them
outright vv'herever they chose. Nowadays, the men-
of-war, and the High Commissioner of the Western
Pacific (who lives in Fiji, six or seven hundred
miles away), keep a general look-out over the labour
trade, and any captain who carries off unwilling natives
by force runs serious risk. Further, the French and
British Commissioners at Vila have made certain regu-
lations (which is very funny, when one comes to think
of it, because there is no legal machinery, at the time
of writing, for enforcing them), and these regulations
enact that the plantation labourers shall be sufficiently
fed, honestly paid, and allowed to return to their own
islands at the end of their three years' engagement.
If not — ^well, there is, so far, no court and no prison
in the islands. One must suppose that the Commis-
sioners would simply "tell the man-of-war of you, if
you don't behave." They might do worse. A naval
captain has remarkably extensive powers, in such
out-of-the-way places, and what he hasn't, he takes.
Still, in the lonely jungle clearings of these great
islands, the planter is able to act very much as his
character inclines him to do. Who is to tell?
My hosts were kind to their labour, though they
did not treat them with any approach to sentimental
indulgence. But there were other stories. The British
settlers are not all saints, and the French planters are
not taken from a good class, for the most part — indeed,
there are whispers of ticket-of-leaveism here and there.
Some are good fellows, humanely inclined, some are —
not. Let it be allowed that the New Hebridean is
I70 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
a devil, and a murderous devil at that — it does not
improve even a devil to underfeed him, abuse and flog
him for the smallest cause, and count his life worth
nothing more than the few pounds you have paid the
schooner captain for recruiting him. And there are
plantations on Efat^ where all these things are done;
there are dark stories of natives kicked or beaten to
death, or so ill-used that they have been driven to
kill themselves; of children "recruited" in far-oif parts
of the group, and sold into actual slavery for life; of
house-servants so badly treated that the decent French
and English settlers will hardly enter the bungalow
where they are employed. In truth, a solid, settled
government of some kind is badly needed, on parts of
civilised and Christianised Efat^.
It would be untrue to say either that the labourers
are enslaved, or that they are absolutely free. A New
Hebridean from the wilds of the bush goes off with
the recruiting schooner very much as an English rustic
takes the shilling — for the most part, because he
wants to get away from home at any price, and
does not care what comes after. Like the rustic,
he is usually rather sick of his bargain when he fully
imderstands what he ha? done, and would be only
too glad to get out of it if he could, before the end of
his three years' term. Fear of being murdered by
some personal enemy in his own village is the commonest
cause of his offering himself to the schooner; some-
times, however, the small wage of two pounds or so
a year is the attraction, if he sees no other way of ob-
taining that vital necessity to a full-grown New Heb-
ridean— a rifle and a stock of ammunition. Some-
times the recruit is forced into the bargain by powerful
relatives, who desire to secure the presents commonly
THE NEW HEBRIDES 171
given to the family of each man. Often enough, he
is more or less deceived by the flowery representations
of plantation life furnished him by the recruiting cap-
tains, who commonly, though not always, obtain a
ten-pound bonus for every man they deliver. Under
proper conditions, however, and vigorously overlooked,
there is no reason why the New Hebrides labour trade
should not be carried on in as just and satisfactory
a manner as the Solomon Islands labour trade with
Fiji. There will always be men ready to engage for
the plantations, especially if the wages and food could
be made a little better than they are; and with effective
supervision, the blots that at present disgrace the system
would vanish. Even as things are, a good employer
will find the same men re-engaging now and then on his
plantation — though very seldom without an interval spent
in their own islands, at the end of the first three years.
I had only been a week or two with the hosts who
had asked me over from Vila (entire strangers to me,
but exceedingly kind and hospitable), when a message
came over from another plantation to the effect that the
R s had had the visitor long enough, and they were to
send her over to the S s, for it was their turn now !
The S s were total strangers also, and, like the R s,
had only incompetent native servants, so that the arrival
of a guest meant considerable trouble to the family them-
selves. But the hospitality of the islands passes lightly
over such trifles — even over the circumstance of having to
turn a daughter out of her bed, and leave her to sleep on
the floor, while the stranger guest, cuckoo-like, occupies
the couch from which she has been thrust away!
It was on the S plantation — one of the loveliest
spots in an island where every prospect was certainly
172 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
pleasing, and only the plantation hand was vile —
that I saw for the first time the wonderful picture of
fleeting beauty presented by the flowering of the coffee.
A coffee plantation, at any season, is very like a
huge ornamental shrubbery. Its pretty bushes, with
their polished dark-green leaves, are quite unsuggestive
of commerce, and the scarlet cherries, of which the
coffee "bean" forms the stone, light up the close-set
[foliage as effectively as the holly-berry lights its tree.
1 But the flowers are the true glory of a plantation. Once
a year they appear, and they last for three days only,
from the bursting of the bud to its withering away — for
but one day, in perfection. All at once, the whole
shrubbery breaks into sprays of heavy snow, and the
air is filled with a cloying hothouse sweetness — the coffee
blooms are out! A little like stephanotis, a little like
gardenia, sweet as tuberose, white as orange-blossom —
there is surely nothing in the tropics more lovel37than the
fair and fleeting coffee flower. Who first thought of
bending such a poetic tree to the uses of commerce? Who
divined that the ugly little stone in the scarlet fruit that
was child of the wax-white coffee flower, would make a
drink fit for the gods? ... I shall like coffee all my
life the better for having seen its beautiful beginnings.
Even the ugly untidiness of the pulping-pits, where,
in the season, the berries are crushed and stirred under
a stream of water, to detach the stones, and the arid
desert of the drying-trays, scorching in the sun, cannot
altogether deface the memory of the lovely blossom-
time, when all that Milky Way of scented stars breaks
out in the tropic dawn, to its one day of perfect life.
Successful as some of the New Hebridean planters
have been, one cannot conscientiously recommend
COFFEE-DRYIXG
COFFEE IN FLOWER
THE NEW HEBRIDES 173
British youth to emigrate to these islands at present.
Business is certainly not on the up-grade. The mur-
derous Australian duties, imposed at the cry of the
"White Australia" party (I did mention them before,
good reader, and I shall mention them yet again),
have ruined many, and are only too likely to hand over
a number of new citizens to France, in the course of
the next few years, if naturalisation continues to be
made as easy and profitable as it is at present. Tenure
of land is not too certain ; tenure of life no better. The
waste lands made available for use by the gradual
lessening of the native population cannot be touched,
since the New Hebridean will have none of the white
man if he can help it. The island fever — a bad form
of malaria — is a considerable handicap, though it could
be much reduced by proper precautions, and by an anti-
mosquito campaign similar to that at present being
carried out in West Africa. On the whole, settlers must
be recommended to keep away, until something further
has been done about the Vexed matter of ownership.
When that is once settled, one can honestly advise enter-
prising young Britons to secure whatever may be available
of the rich island lands. If not developed by the pur-
chaser, they will at least sell again at a profit later on.
English travellers, on the other hand, if they are
of the right kind, may be assured that they will find
much enjoyment in a New Hebridean tour. I do
not assert that nervous maiden aunts, or stout old
gentlemen devoted to their dinners and their clubs,
would enjoy the somewhat lawless atmosphere of the
New Hebridean group — its "plentiful lack" of roads,
its occasional shortage of fresh food, its fevers, lonely
places, and unfriendly natives. But those who do
not mind undergoing some discomfort and risk, for
174 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
the sake of marvellous scenery, many adventures,
and some of the strangest sights in the whole world,
will do well to try these islands when they are tired
of the Congo and the Amazon, and big game shooting
in the Rocky Mountains. And let them not believe
the people who assure them that they cannot and
must not "stop over," or go inland, for they certainly
should and can do both of these things.
Since the above was written, certain changes have
taken place in the administration of the islands. It
would be too much to say that they are entirely peaceful
and safe, or that order is satisfactorily established, but
much has been done toward both ends. The liquor
traffic among the natives has been practically suppressed
by the summary action of the British and French men-of-
war, who have stopped and overhauled every vessel carry-
ing supplies of spirits, and confiscated the cargo. The
uncontrolled shooting among the natives has received
a strong check by timely displays of force. In Tanna,
where tribal fighting was worst, peace has been prac-
tically established for the first time in the memory of
living men. Disarmament is proceeding rapidly all over
the group, through the systematic confiscation of all
gunpowder and cartridges imported by either English
or French, the native weapons being thus rendered use-
less to their owners. In all these matters, English and
French have worked successfully together, and feelings
of rivalry appear, for the time, to have passed away.
At present (April, 1907) the administration of the
group stands on a somewhat uncertain footing. The
Commissioners, English and French, have no clearly
defined position, and not much power. The signing
of the Convention, how^ever, and the agreement to a
joint Protectorate, have handed over the nominal respon-
THE NEW HEBRIDES 175
sibility for order to the civil arm, so that the rough
and ready (and usually most effective) justice of the
men-of-war will not in future play any very notable part
in the pacification of the islands. It is obvious that one
of two things is necessary for future peace — more law-
making and law-enforcing powers for the civil authority,
or a freer hand for the warships. At the moment there
is some cause to fear slipping back. Illegal recruiting
in especial, which has been a trouble in the group, but
which, for the time at any rate, has been effectively
checked by the vigorous action of the naval authorities,
is likely to create further difficulties in the future unless
a strong hold is kept upon the offenders.
Nothing in the history of the New Hebrides is more
striking or in its way more instructive than the tale of
the breaking-in of Tanna. It took place in a single day
of October, 1906, a year after my own visit. The natives,
who had systematically disregarded the threats and
warnings sent them from time to time, and continued their
tribal fighting regardless of risk to the whites, awakened
one morning to find H. M. S. Pegasus lying off the east
side of the island, and the French warship Vaucluse
keeping guard on the west. In helpless terror, and
certain that their last day had come, they sent messengers
down to the mission-house to discover what hope
remained. They were told that a meeting of the chiefs
was desired on the mission ground that day, and that
if they valued their lives they would come. A crowd
of some fifteen hundred people, including six hundred
armed men, answered the invitation, and sat or stood
in rows on the rising ground of the mission enclosure, to
hear what their fate might be. The British leader.
Commander D'Oyly, addressed the crowd through an
176 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
interpreter, and told them that it was the will of the two
great nations that tribal fighting should cease. The
island was surrounded, and no mercy would be shown
to the people if they did not enter into an agreement
to keep the peace. In reply, a Tanna warrior begged
to know whether the British chief w^as "speaking
strong." They had heard that kind of thing before, he
intimated, but nothing came of it. It was explained
to him that as Malekula had been served, so would
Tanna be treated unless the required submission was
made. The illustration was pointed enough, and the
chiefs came in and swore to end the fighting — only too
eager to make it clear that they gave in as fully and
freely as possible. Since then there has been peace in
Tanna. Many chiefs who had never seen each other's
faces have met and even become friendly, though but
a little while ago they were stalking each other's tribes
in ambush and in the dark, murder their only thought.
If the present state of affairs proves lasting, Tanna
will be fit for settlement in the near future — and it will
repay it.
Regarding the much discussed Convention, it has
now become known that the hurried signing of the agree-
ment was necessitated by the unexpected intervention
of a third Power, which was discovered to be making
large purchases of land in the group, with the view of
acquiring a controlling interest. This made immediate
action inevitable. None the less, it is to be regretted
that matters had to be hurried through in such a manner
that the vital questions of interest in the different islands,
possible exchange, etc., could not receive consideration.
No real progress will be possible until a definite con-
clusion on these points has been arrived at.
CHAPTER X
MALEKULA— AN UNCANNY PLACE
Bound for Sou -West Bay — The Wandering Steamer — The
Marriage Market in Malekula — An Avenue of Idols —
The Unknown Country — A Stronghold of Savagery —
Ten Stick Island
AFTER a few weeks the steamer came in, and my
experience of plantation life ended. I was bound
now for Sou'-West Bay, in Malekula, but it was not
so easy to reach that spot as the local maps led one to
suppose. From letters written at the time, the following
extract is taken.
"It was 65 miles, as the crow flies, to Sou'-West
Bay. The steamer, being neither a crow nor an eagle
as to speed, covered the distance between Saturday
afternoon and Thursday morning of the next week.
This is rather below her usual gait among the northern
islands, but still good.
"Time does not exist north of Efat^; the ship strolls
lazily about from store to mission-house, from planter's
to trader's, like a society woman trying to kill the hours
making calls. She stops as often as a suburban train,
during the day, and at night sleeps the sleep of the lazy
in a comfortable bay. Mrs. Missionary Smith has a new
blouse and a packet of hairpins up from Sydney — the
steamer stops and delivers them. Mr. Planter Jones
wants the vessel to call and take his boots down to Aus-
tralia for resoling — ^the vessel kindly does. Somebody
177
lyS FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
wants to give a dinner-party, and invites everyone on
board to go — the steamer politely makes that spot her
stopping-place for the night, and everyone is pleased.
There is no limit to the company's obliging amiability.
" Like the mysterious something in the children's
riddle, that went 'round the house, and round the
house, without ever touching the house,' we went round
about Epi, until it seemed as if the island had hypnotised
the ship, and would not let her away. We called at
nineteen hundred and seven ports on this island (I
speak from memory only; it may have been one or
two under — or over), looked in on Ambrym and Paama
for a few minutes, and then began doing Malekula with
the thoroughness of a Cook's tour. We were now in
the country of the real heathen, but the stops were so
short (we had 4,302 to make, I believe, that it was impos-
sible to see anything. At every port of the 4,302, and
at every other port on the trip, we took up, or landed,
or had brought on to the boat to visit, at least one white
Presbyterian mission baby.
"It rained Presbyterian babies throughout the
whole tour. They lay on saloon sofas sucking bottles,
they flopped on smoking-room seats chewing bananas,
they toddled up and down perilous unprotected decks,
and attempted to commit suicide over precipitous
rails, and wiped their small hands on newly painted
ventilators, and cleaned it off on officers' white and
gold coats, and held noisy synods of their own in private
cabins, with boxes of sweets representing the mission
funds, and a loud diversity of opinion as to the proper
application thereof. I like to be accurate, above
everything, and therefore I do not care to estimate
the probable infant Presbyterian population of the
New Hebrides as over four or five thousand; but that
- I ^^WWHg*- ■
\
THE REFUGE ISLAND ot WALA— XATIVES COMING Hw.\ih 1 < ) SLEEP
THE AVENUE OF IDOLS
MALEKULA— AN UNCANNY PLACE 179
is certainly enough to pacify any possible doubts as
to the supply of futiire missionaries, grown on the
premises.
"On referring to the mission maps I find that the
total number of mission stations in the group is only
forty-five. There must be something wrong some-
where. I cannot pretend to disentangle it. The
climate of the New Hebrides is notoriously destructive
to the memory, and the thermometer as I write is fast
' reaching the point at which the capability to be exact
melts out of the human mind. Before it quite reaches
that figure I must make haste to state that things are
as I said — more or less — that the Presbyterian baby
is the principal product of the islands, copra and coffee
coming a good way after; and that President Roosevelt,
if he undertook a trip in the Tamho or the Malaita,
would return to the United States even greener with
envy than with sea-sickness.
"Dates disappear, and times melt away, within
sound of the lazily whispering cocoa-palm. I do
not know when we came to Wala, a strange little island
off the coast of Malekula, where we stopped long enough
to see several interesting sights. Enough that we did
arrive there, and left again late at night, having been
lucky enough to see what hardly any tourist has time,
as a rule, to visit — the Sing-Sing ground.
"Wala is a tiny island, closely covered with thick
bush. One can easily walk all round it in half an
hour, and it lies only a few hundred yards from the
mainland of the great island of Malekula, over thirty
miles long. Yet five or six hundred natives sleep on
Wala every night, spending the day on the mainland
attending to their yam plantations, or pigeon shooting,
and coming home about four o'clock in a huge fleet
i8o FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
of canoes, every canoe loaded with yams and other
food, and decorated with a rifle set up in the bow.
"The Malekulan never stirs abroad without his
rifle — sometimes an old army Snider, occasionally a
new magazine rifle of excellent pattern, costing a good
many pounds. He is always more or less at war, after
the New Hebridean fashion, which is murder, plain
and plimip. No one is ever supposed to die a natural
death; poison or witchcraft is always assumed to be
the cause of decease when a man passes away from
sickness of any kind, and such a death demands revenge
just as loudly as an actual shooting. So it comes about
that the whole of Malekula is engaged in carrying out
one enormous 'vendetta' — all by means of treachery
and ambush. Every Malekula man goes in constant
fear of his life; if he has not shot anyone lately, or
fallen under suspicion of charming somebody's life
away, there are sure to be a dozen or two such injuries
scored up against his village in general, and one man's
death is as good as another, provided he belongs to the
obnoxious tribe.
"For this reason the Wala men seek safety from the
fierce bush tribes of the interior by sleeping on this little
fortress isle, that lies safely out from land. The neigh-
bouring island of Rano is unfriendly, and always picking
off stray Wala men when the canoes meet at sea; but
that is better than running the gauntlet of thousands
of fierce bushmen, or so the Wala men think.
"Most of the islanders were away when I landed
on Wala, and went for a sight-seeing walk, under the
guidance of a passenger. A few men who had come
home early wandered about the shore, wearing the
national dress of Malekula, which consists of a cartridge
belt of woven pandanus fibre, draw^n tightly round
MALEKULA— AN UNCANNY PLACE
i«i
the waist, a boar's tusk suspended round the neck,
and a pig's tail in each ear. One man, with his five
wives, was just coming up from his canoe, the women
carrying heavy loads of yams and babies. They wore
a small sash round the middle, and a few beads, trade
and native. The man was evidently a noble. Only
a Malekulan lord can afford several young, attractive
wives, for a wife costs from ten to twenty-five pigs
(pigs being the recognised currency), and it is the
possession of pigs that fixes a man's rank in the aris-
tocracy of the country. To become noble a man has
only one thing to do — kill pigs and give feasts. Eight
or ten pigs thus sacrificed will give him the lowest rank;
a hundred will make him something like a duke. . . .
Anything equivalent existing among the heathens of
London, or possibly the wild tribes of Sydney? Of
course not. . . . These tropical climates plant strange
fancies in the brain.
"This system of coinage creates a curious difficulty,
the like of which I have certainly never heard in any
civilised country — at least, I think not. A man is
generally old and ugly before he has amassed a large
number of pigs, and so acquired command of the wife
market. He picks himself out the youngest and
nicest-looking wives, consequently the most expensive,
and buys them. That is all right. But then starts
up some fine young fighting man, with hardly a porker
to his name, and the expensive twenty-pig wife takes
a fancy to him, and runs away to the bush with him,
and everybod}^ laughs at the old Croesus, and calls
him a fool. Truly, an extraordinary state of affairs,
causing the Christian traveller to lift up pious hands
of thanksgiving for the benefits enjoyed by his own
race, among whom such sinful absurdities are unheard of.
i82 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
"The New Hebridean wife is very hard-worked,
and not too kindly treated, but she has one source
of satisfaction, as a rule — the price that was paid
for her.
'" I cost twelve pigs,' Mrs. Frizzyhead No. i boasts
to Mrs. Frizzyhead No. 4, who is a new acquisition,
and inclined to be cheeky. No. 4, who is painting her
forehead jet black with burnt cocoanut, and drawing a
line of red ochre down her nose, pauses in her toilet to
say contemptuously, ' I cost fifteen ! '
"Mrs. Flatface, the sole joy of old Mr. Flatface,
from the bush, here chips in:
" ' I cost twenty, and two of them were big, as big
as a whaleboat from the steamer!'
"The Frizzyhead ladies subside, and wait till they
can catch young Mrs. Blackleg coming up from the
yam plantations, with a baby in her arms and a hundred-
weight of yams on her back, to revenge themselves
by telling her that she only cost ten pigs, and is a low
creature anyhow.
"We pass the 'hamal' by-and-by — a large, ornate
reed house, with a high gable roof, an extremely small
door, and no windows — where the men sleep and live
by themselves, when they feel so inclined. It is sur-
rounded by a high stone wall, and is strictly 'taboo*
for all females. It seems to be a kind of dim prototype
of the civilised club, and is evidently very popular
among the men, for when they are at home there are
always a few lounging about the enclosure, or peering
out of the door.
"Did I get over the wall, and stand where no female
foot had ever stood before? No — although I was
sorely tempted to do so — ^for my companions were
so much against the idea that I had to wait for a future
MALEKULA— AN UNCANNY PLACE 183
chance. I photographed the place instead, and went
on to the Sing-Sing ground.
"This was the strangest and most uncanny place
ever conceived outside of a nightmare — a bare, gloomy
alley, about a hundred yards in length, shadowed by
dark, overhanging trees, and faintly lit by stray gleams
of the declining sun. Along one side ran a perfect
graveyard of small, rough tombstones, or what looked
like them. These were altars for sacrificing pigs — and
other things. It is not very often, nowadays, that the
other things are available; still, the resident missionary
found it necessary to interfere only the other day, and
use all the influence he possessed to prevent the holding
of a projected cannibal feast; and there is reason to
believe that not a few natives have been eaten here of
late years, strictly on the quiet.
"Opposite the stone altars, looking indescribably
weird and evil in the red rays of the declining sun,
stood a long range of drum-idols, carved out of hollow
tree-trunks. They were of all heights, from two or
three feet up to thirty; they all had black, skull-like,
empty eyes, and wicked grins; their faces were carved
into ghastly wrinkles, and many of them had long
tongues hanging derisively out of their mouths. The
crowning horror was the strange black bird, or bat,
placed upon the head of nearly every one. These birds
were very fairly carved, and as big as albatrosses;
dead-black in colour, with a few narrow white lines
on the wings. Hovering grimly above the uncanny
idol-faces, their beaks bent down, their gloomy wings
outspread, they seemed the very spirit of Nightmare
itself.
"All the idols were hollow, with deep clefts in their
sides, so that they would give out a heavy, booming
i84 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
noise when beaten. They were supposed to represent
the departed ancestors of the natives; and the night-
mare birds, perched high up on the idols' heads, figured,
most fittingly, the dark spirits of those who were thus
commemorated .
"In the vacant space before the idol-drums the
natives hold their dances, at certain times of the year,
and also their feasts. Almost at any time the mocking
faces of the idols may laugh cruel scorn, and their drum
bodies thunder wild rejoicing, over the dying agonies
of. men slaughtered for cannibal feasts on the rough
stone altars that border the Sing-Sing ground. All
Malekula is determinedly cannibal, although the
influence of the various mission stations about the coasts
has caused the apparent suppression of man-eating
in places where the white people might actually see
it. All the bush villages are known to indulge in
cannibal feasting every now and then, and — 'not
once or twice, in this rough island story' — a white
man has furnished the filling for the cooking-pot.
"What goes on in the farther interior no one knows,
for no white man has ever been to see; but from the
reports of the natives it seems evident that man-eating
is so common as to terrify the milder cannibals of the
coastal districts from ever venturing across the wider
parts of the island.
"There was yet another strange thing to see before
we left Wala — the collections of boars tusks belonging
to the chiefs. These were displayed on a long stand,
that exactly resembled eight or ten bazaar stalls joined
together. There were some hundreds of them, placed
in long rows — how many exactly I had not time to
count, as I heard that the canoes were just coming
home from the mainland, and I wanted to be on the
MALEKULA— AN UNCANNY PLACE 185
shore to meet them. Many of the tusks were curved
into a complete double circle. These are greatly prized,
but are only obtained at the cost of much suffering
to the unlucky pig that furnishes them. He is tied
up in a house, and never allowed to wander forth, for
fear of destroying his tusks. From each side of the
jaw the teeth that oppose the tusk and prevent its
going too far are removed, so that in time it grows
right round through the unlucky animal's flesh, and
provides a splendid double armlet for the native who
owns the pig.
"There were also several large bouquets of pigs'
jaws, neatly tied together, hanging up on the stall.
These were patents of nobility, representing so many
pigs killed and feasts given, in order to attain chief rank.
"On the burning white shore, as I came out of the
bush, the canoes were beginning to come up in scores,
returning from the day's work on Malekula mainland.
The Wala people decorate their canoes with some taste,
a good deal of carving being seen. They are also
great builders of war canoes. One or two of these
lay on the shore as I came down on my way to the
steamer. They seemed large enough to hold fifty
or sixty men, and were partly dug out, partly built
up, the upper pieces being neatly laced and tied together.
These great canoes, however, are very seldom used."
Sou'-West Bay, another part of Malekula, to which
I was now bound, is a place of an evil reputation.
Murders of the whites have always been frequent
here, and the last was not many months old when I
landed. The steamer put in for half an hour to take
up copra, and land cargo. She seldom stops longer,
and her calls are somewhat irregular.
The place, as I saw it first, seemed to match in its
i86 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
appearance its odd seafaring name and wicked reputa-
tion. A wide stretch of water, with little shelter;
ominous overhanging cliffs and rocks; a beach of black
volcanic sand, torn by thunderous rollers. On the
shore, assembled, the whole white population of the
district — the Presbyterian missionary and his wife, one
married and one unmarried trader, and a French mission-
ary priest. This was Sou'-West Bay.
A few natives were hovering about the trees near
the beach — creatures of appalling ugliness and evil,
carrying a loaded gun apiece, and absolutely naked
save for a cartridge belt. There was nothing to be
feared from them, however. Sinister as is the history
of Sou'-West Bay, I understood the New Hebridean
well enough by this time to be quite certain that open
daylight attack, with a steamer in the offing, was the
last form of sport likely to attract him.
I had trusted to the hospitality of the islands in
making a stop here, and I was not mistaken. The
Presbyterian missionary at once invited me to stay with
himself and his wife as long as I liked, and I and my
baggage were swept off to the neat little house above
the beach where the Rev. Mr. B has his home. The
steamer was away again almost immediately, and only
a trail of black smoke on the far horizon marked the
disappearance of our last link with civilisation.
Of this, one of the most interesting spots in the
whole New Hebridean group, the travelling world,
so far, knows nothing at all. When a stray wanderer
does by any chance drift up in the Sydney boat, he
has neither time nor, apparently, desire to take even
a walk about the bay. Perhaps it is as well, however,
that the time-tables do not allow of any exploration,
for the Malekulans of this part are not company for
MALEKULA— AN UNCANNY PLACE 187
everyone, being impulsive by nature, and apt to commit
breaches of manners which, no doubt, they are the
first to regret in cooler moments — after the bones are
picked, and when the smoke of a man-of-war coming
to tea and talk with them becomes visible over the
Cottonwood tree-tops.
Malekula, or Mallicollo, as it is commonly called in
the geographies, is the unknown country of the New
Hebrides. Though only about sixty miles by thirty-
five, it is still for the most part unexplored, and the
white settlers and missionaries, of whom there are
only a few, all have their dwellings round the coast-
line, or on the outlying islets — as at Wala. For a
very few miles inland, something of the country is
known, and the island has t^vice been crossed at the
narrower ends. But the great tract l3^ing in the interior
is still untouched. What may be there, nobody knows,
although half a century has passed since the first settle-
ments of missionaries and traders on the shores. There
are all kinds of wild traditions current, as is generally
the case where unknown lands are in question. It
is said by the natives of the beach districts that a
tribe of pigmies inhabits the interior; and this has
apparently some evidence to support it, since one of the
medical missionaries assured me that he had himself
seen a man from the interior who was only four feet
six. It sounds like further proof, when one is told
that the coast tribes declare these pigmies are extremely
vicious and hostile, and that they are expert in the
use of poisoned arrows — these being well-known charac-
teristics of dwarf races, as observed in other lands.
There is at all events no doubt as to the character
of the forest tribes as a whole, since they furnish quite
sufficient proof of it from time to time, in their sudden
i88 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
descents to the coast, where they burn, slay, and destroy
wholesale, retreating again to their mountain strong-
holds unpursued and unpunished, for the most part.
They hold the tribes of the coast in constant terror,
and no money would procure a guide into the interior,
even with an armed force to guard him.
This is one of the reasons w^hy the island is still
virgin ground to the explorer. But there are others.
It seems at first sight that an island which looks on
the map as if it could be crossed in two days' march
should not remain long unknown. One very good
reason, however, lies in the fact that, commercially,
it would pay nobody to go. There is practically no
land in Malekula worth having. The country is known
to be hilly, broken, and irregular in the highest degree,
cut up by mountain ranges rising to four or five thousand
feet, and covered with the densest forest. No one
wants the interior. That is a second reason.
Another lies in the fact that the scientific explorer
is barred off by the question of expense. An armed
force would be a necessity to any expedition, and it
would richly earn its pay. Some losses would be cer-
tain. Fever could not be escaped; the hostile
tribes would fight hard, and poisoned arrows silently
sent out from the bush, or poisoned spearheads cunningly
concealed in the pathway, just where they would be
most likely to pierce an intruding foot, would certainlv
account for not a few of the travellers. For this reason,
a force out of all proportion to the apparent need of such
an expedition would have to be taken, fed, and paid.
Progress, also, would be extremely slow, and here expense
comes in again. So far as anyone has penetrated, the
country is so exceedingly irregular, precipitous, and
densely wooded, that only a few miles a day would be
MALEKULA— AN UNCANNY PLACE 189
covered at best. When the crews of the French and
English warships, Pegasus and Meurthe, marched eleven
miles inland, and back again, in a day and a night of
October, 1905 (much the most important journey into
the interior that has yet been made) , the exertion was so
great that several of the men fell out from sheer exhaus-
tion, before the first half w^as done. It may be judged
how much ground an ordinary expedition would be likely
to cover in a day, since this is the very best that a
body of trained, picked, and powerful man-of-war's
men could do, carrying only bare necessaries for the
march.
The tribes of the interior have, in many cases, never
been down to the coast, or seen a white man's face,
but they have nearly all managed to obtain rifles, and
where these are missing, poisoned arrows supply their
place. They are quite determined to allow no invasion
of their country, either by white people or natives
from the shore. The attitude which they main-
tain has a decided influence over the natives of
the other islands, and the murders and massacres
of white people which the Malekulans have successfully
carried out from time to time, have had a bad effect
over the whole group. For this reason, Malekula is
one of the first places to which any established govern-
ment would turn its attention, if the islands were
annexed. Something has already been done by the
French and English warships, acting together; but
the place cannot be thoroughly taken in hand, under
existing circumstances, and in consequence remains
exactly what it was in the days of De Bougainville
and Cook — a hell upon earth of cannibalism, murder,
and infamy unspeakable. For be it known that the
truth, or half the truth, about the lives of these savages
I90 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
can never be told. Any book which depicted them all
in all as they are would be fit for nothing but to be
burned at the hands of the common hangman. Darker
spots upon the surface of the earth than Malekula
there cannot be; worse fiends in hell or out of it than
most of the natives not the wildest imaginations of
madhouses could picture. And there description must
cease.
About the little mission-house in Sou'-West Bay,
heathenism and cannibalism surge like tides of a stormy
sea breaking upon a solitary islet. It is small wonder
that the Presbyterian mission and the Catholic alike,
one many years old, the other comparatively new,
have been able to do very little. The representatives
of both churches have had the narrowest possible escapes
for their lives from time to time; and things have been
so bad for the traders that a man-of-war called in 1904
with the object of taking them safely away, should
they so wish. One accepted the offer, the others remained
where they were, and simply "chanced" it until things
quieted down.
In Sou'-West Bay, close to the entrance, lies the only
piece of land in the group that belongs to Great Britain —
a small wooded islet of considerable height, only a few
hundred yards in circumference. The story of its
acquisition is an amusing one. Sou'-West Bay has
always been considered the best place in the islands
for target practice, by the man-of-war patrolling the
group, and this small islet was used as a target so fre-
quently that it seemed in danger of being gradually
shot away.
The chief who owned it protested, and wanted
compensation. The captain of the man-of-war, who
understood New Hebridean nature, knew that these
MALEKULA— AN UNCANNY PLACE 191
claims would be a ceaseless source of blackmail unless
they were settled once for all; so he bought the island
outright for the British Crown, paying ten sticks of
tobacco for it, and everyone was satisfied. The place,
since then, has always been known as "Ten Stick Island."
CHAPTER XI
MALEKULA— THE OUTER MAN
How Bilyas made itself Strong — The Slaughtered Traders —
Into the Unknown Country — The Cannibal Toilet —
New Fashions in Murder — The Ignorant White
Woman
THE mission-house stands in the middle of a clearing;
behind it, wave after wave, rise the unconquered
heights of the mysterious forest land, clothed in densest
green. One burnt and barren spot, some two miles
above the settlement, marks the former site of Bilyas,
one of the very worst of the villages near the coast,
which had been destroyed by the British and French
warships, Pegasus and Meurthe, three months before
my visit. The story — one of a good many similar
tales relating to Sou'-West Bay — may be given as an
example of the rest.
About August 1904, the men of Bilyas, a hill fortress
notorious for giving trouble, declared their intention
of "making themselves strong." This expression, in
the mouth of a Malekulan native or tribe, is best trans-
lated as a wish for self-advertisement — a. desire to
be widely talked of. It is on such occasions as this
that the white people are really in danger, for the mur-
der of a white man or woman is considered a plucky
and creditable performance among the tribes, and is
likely, on that account, to be selected as a means of
securing the desired advertisement.
193
194 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
In this case, the Bilyas men, who apparently wanted
to do the thing thoroughly when they began, openly
declared their intention of killing the crew of the
first recruiting schooner that should come into the bay.
Very shortly afterward, a French vessel appeared,
and sent out her boats. The Bilyas men were rather
disappointed to find that the Frenchmen — thinking
it was "better to be a coward for half an hour, than
a corpse for all your life" — had stayed on board the
ship themselves, and sent out the boats manned only
by natives from another island. However, they re-
solved, at least, to make a "bag" of the latter. Now,
it is not so easy as it might seem to entrap and murder
the crew of a recruiting boat, for they always work
in pairs, one carrying out the negotiations on the beach,
the other remaining some distance off, and keeping
the natives on the shore covered with their rifles, for
fear of treachery. The recruiting boat itself is usually,
though not always, armed as well. The Bilyas men,
however, were famed even among the Malekulans for
their high degree of accomplishment in the fine art of
treacherous murder, and they proved themselves equal
to the occasion. They greeted the recruiters most civilly,
and told them there were several men who were willing
to engage. There was a little polite conversation, and
then the men of Bilyas began discussing the bonuses
that were to be given to the relatives of the enlisters,
according to custom. They asked for guns, and
demanded to see all the rifles that were in the boat,
throwing open the breech of each one, apparently to
examine it, but really to see if it was loaded. Now the
native crew had very foolishly trusted to the covering
boat, and brought no loaded firearms themselves, so
aH the rifles were empty. This was good, so far.
MALEKULA— THE OUTER MAN 195
"Send away that other boat of yours; we are
afraid while they cover us with their guns," said the
plotters, acting under the orders of a cunning old chief
who was leading the party. The boatmen, misled by
the friendly tone, signalled to the boat to draw away.
It seems that after this, their hearts began suddenly
to fail them, for though they spoke no word, the old
chief read their faces, and said in the Bilyas dialect
to his followers: " Be quick, for these men are beginning
to fear us." He spoke with a smiling face, and held
the boatmen in conversation, using their own tongue,
while the Bilyas men closed in.
"They are thinking of going," warned the old chief,
still smiling, as he watched the faces in the boat —
faces now paling fast under the shadow of a fear that
was clutching at every heart. . . . "Now!" he cried,
dropping all disguise — and the men of Bilyas fired.
Three of the wretched victims dropped dead; one
fell dying; the rest escaped out to sea. . . . So Bilyas
"made itself strong."
A week or two later the Meurthe came in, burned
a couple of villages (the inhabitants having fled into
the bush), and steamed away again. In July of the
next year — 1905 — she returned, sent an armed expedi-
tion up into Bilyas itself, and killed four natives. A
French sailor, however, was killed also, and, owing
to some confusion about prisoners, the force retreated
in some disorder, leaving things on the whole much
worse than they were before.
As there were two or three outstanding murders of
white traders to avenge (the cases of Sarguey, Gardemer,
and others), the British and French now took the
matter up together, and on September 3rd, about
three weeks before my visit, the Pegasus and the
196 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
Meurthe sent a combined expedition inland, under the
leadership of Commander H. D'Oyly, of the Pegasus.
This force was not intended to take life, unless in self-
defence, but merely to warn the natives, and clear
out a hornet's nest that had long given trouble to the
whole bay. The work was done very thoroughly,
the town and all its contents burned, and the power
of Bilyas thoroughly broken. None of the actual
murderers were captured, either then or at any other
time. The real offender never is captured in such
cases, but the common (and very effective) course
of justice followed by British warships is to make
things so hot in general for the criminal's tribe, that
it is discouraged from any other attempts at cheap
advertisement for some time to come.
The murder of the Frenchman Sarguey took place
in April 1904, and was not unlike the other. In this
case, there was no one who wanted to "make himself
strong" — only a desire to secure goods without paying
for them. Sarguey had gone up in his cutter a little
beyond the bay to a spot called Lumbumbu, to buy
yams and pigs from the natives, who happened to have
a superfluity of both, and were willing to trade. They
were quite friendly to hiin, and when he took his pretty
white-sailed cutter up into the bay below the village,
and ran his dingy ashore into the midst of the crowd
collected to see him land, everything seemed as fair
and promising as the brilliant day and the lovely island
itself. But when the men of Lumbumbu saw the boat
all full of trade goods, they grew very covetous, and
began planning among themselves how to secure all
these riches without parting with their own goods.
Sarguey had two loaded rifles in the boat, carried as
men carry firearms all over the New Hebrides — "in
MALEKULA— THE OUTER MAN 197
case" — and the men saw that these must be got out
of the way. So they told the Frenchman that one
of them would go away with him in his cutter, as he
had got into trouble, and wanted to recruit for the
plantations ; and the Frenchman could take him anywhere
he liked. This meant a profit of several pounds, so:
"All right," said the trader cheerfully, "I'll take you,
my man; jump in."
" But my family — you know I must have a rifle for
, my family, or thev won't let me go," objected the recruit
' anxiously.
"Well, I'm not out recruiting, you see, and I haven't
got any trade rifles with me," said Sarguey. "I'll
send them one later."
"That would never do; I'll have one now, or I won't
go," declared the man sulkily. "Give me those you
have in the boat, to look at; perhaps they're good
enough. But I won't go if they are not."
Now a recruiter can get ten pounds for a good man
down at the plantations, if hands are scarce, and the
rifles were not worth two pounds apiece. Sarguey
turned to hand them over for examination.
. Master, take care!" warned one of his own
boatmen; "I think they mean treachery!"
It was too late. The rifles were scarcely out of the
boat before the whole pack fell upon the Frenchman
like wolves. One shot him in the back, another clubbed
him on the head, and the rest began to loot the boat,
with horrid yells of joy. The native boatmen, terrified
out of their lives, swam off to the cutter, and took
refuge there. They were not followed; so, after the
murderers had gone their way, and left the blood-
1 bespattered body of Sarguey on the shore, the frightened
crew ventured back to the lonely beach, and brought
igS FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
their master out to his ship. He was still breathing
when they found him. The rest of the story was told
as follows to the mission folk, in the pigeon English
that serves as a connecting-link among the Babel dialects
of Malekula:
"Head belong him, he break plenty. He tell me
takeum cutter big-fellow hospital, Ambrym. We
tell: 'What name (why?) we go Ambrym, you no good,
you dead.' He tell: 'No, all right.' By-n'-by he speak
wantuni one-fellow water, two-fellow water; we give.
No wantum more. By-n'-by he go finish (died)."
However, the Sou'-West Bay people, though treach-
erous and cannibal, are not in the habit of killing white
people "on sight." They may kill you, as they killed
Sarguey and others, if they see their way to a clear
profit by your death, or they may use you as a means
of advertisement as explained above — or they may
put an end to you by a sly bullet from the bush, if they
have taken a dislike to you, and think that your presence
is bringing down bad luck on the crops. But, if they
have no personal objection to you on the whole, and
they do not suppose you have been using spells to call
down a curse on the country, and no native has happened
to die a few weeks after you misguidedly gave him
five grains of quinine for fever — why, then, being suitably
introduced, you can beard the Malekulan in his mountain
den, if you feel inclined, and come off none the worse.
This was, at all events, the opinion of my kind host
of Sou'-West Bay, who, hearing that I was anxious
to get a peep, if possible, at some of the mysterious
bush towns, offered to escort me up to one that he
had never visited himself, and that was entirely
unknown to any white person. It was about six miles
AFRAID TO LAND-SOU '-WEST BAY
!^:
'C ■ • J
CONSCIENCE-STRICKEN
MALEKULA— THE OUTER MAN 199
inland, in the real fighting country, and it certainly
could not have been reached by the man-of-war's people,
had they been there, otherwise than with a strong
force and a couple of Maxim guns. Mr. B , how-
ever, thought that if he and I were to go up quite
unarmed, and only accompanied by a couple of boys
to find the way, and if we did nothing that might be
likely to annoy the natives, there was every probability
that our insignificance would protect us, so that we
should not be molested in any way. An idol dance
was to take place in this forest stronghold in a day
or two, according to the rumours current about the
beach, and Mr. B was sure that it would be very
well worth seeing.
I was quite sure that it would, also, and besides,
who would not have jumped at the chance of such
an exciting adventure? So we started off very merrily
in the early morning, taking a couple of mission natives
to find the track for us, and carry our food, and wearing
the lightest of cotton clothing, and the shadiest of
hats, to protect us from the raging sun.
We had some boating first, up a narrow winding arm
of the sea, dotted with exquisite green islands — a very
home of the fairies, lovely and silent enough to let one
forget that its actual frequenters were hideously painted
naked savages. Who was the first teller of "travellers'
tales" to vilify the beautiful mangrove? Why does
every wanderer slavishly repeat the old fables about
its ugliness and gloom? Spreading a close rampart
of glossy pale-green leafage, starred with small white
flowers, above the china-blue water of the lagoon —
weaving quaint reed-work of interlaced black stems
and roots, underneath the brave show of gloss and
colour — ^shooting up here a single spire of leaf through
2 00 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
the empty water, there a far-out little islet like a black
basket full of bright leaves — the "horrible" mangrove
and its "ghastly" foliage provided half the beauty
of the lagoon. It is not a wholesome or a healthy
thing to have about; but if one is to deny the beauty
of anything that is dangerous or evil, one must rule
out a large proportion of the loveliness of this perverse
yet pleasant world.
By-and-by we landed, and then, leaving the fiord
behind, we walked four miles farther inland, up toward
the mountain town. Four miles! what is that to any
healthy Briton? A mere stroll; a saunter scarcely
deserving the name of a walk at all. Four miles of
hard white English road, of bracing breezes. . . .
just an appetiser for dinner, no more.
But four miles in the New Hebrides is something else.
To begin with, there are no roads. There is usually
a track, some few inches wide, but one cannot even
keep it without a guide, and it is generally slippery
and boggy, for the annual rainfall, in these islands of
the blest, is reckoned by yards instead of inches.
Then there is no level ground. Either you are struggling
up the side of a slope so steep that you have to use
your hands, or you are sliding with clenched feet and
fingers down into a pit of destruction. The land
seems to be composed entirely of gorge and gullies,
and the track never appears to lead along them, always
across. Also, there is little air, and not much light
to speak of, because the overhanging canopy of densely
knitted leaf and liana shuts off both. Then it is hot —
a good deal hotter than the orchid-house at Kew, and
a good deal moister, and before you have gone a mile,
you are as wet with mere heat as if you had been dropped
bodily into the sea. It is long odds, too, that you
MALEKULA— THE OUTER MAN 201
have a touch of fever hanging about you, and island
fever takes all the stiffening out of your bones, and
weights your brain with lead. . . . Four miles is four
miles, to an unseasoned visitor, in the hot season ; still
more is eight miles eight. Some weeks later, I walked
thirteen miles, over very bad country, and survived the
feat; but more than that I never attempted while
in the New Hebrides. It is only about some part of
Efate, and in the interior of Tanna, that riding is pos-
sible. Elsewhere, almost all the travelling is done
by boat, so as to reduce the inland scrambling to a
minimum.
The scenery — it is an unpoetical comparison, but
really I cannot help it — ^was almost exactly like a trans-
formation piece in a pantomime. The enormous wild
taro leaves, great green parasols w^ith the rare sun-
light dripping through, standing up on tall thick stalks
higher than a man — the scaled and diamonded palm-
trunks, the close-set banyan columns, garlanded with
long drooping fringes of delicate creeper; the immense
nameless roots and buttresses of giant trees, projecting
themselves like the edges of "flats" upon the winding
pathway — the bird's-nest ferns, pale orchids, and knotted
lianas, perched aloft in the "flies" — all these needed
only the usual troop of posturing nymphs to bring the
very sound of the orchestra, and smell of gas and velvet
and orange-peel up before one's senses.
Instead, just as the pathway opened out upon the
most theatrical of "glades," we came upon a score
or two of young Malekulans clothed, as usual, in their
native impudence and a cartridge belt, and very busy
indeed making up themselves and each other for the
dance. One had just completed his head — a very neat
arrangement in powdered white wood-ash, giving him
202 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
an extraordinary resemblance to a negro barrister
who had somehow omitted to put on his clothes. A
rival had contrived to leave alternate stripes of his
own black wool, and to fix on a large black rosette of
close-felted vegetable fibre above the centre of his
forehead. The forehead itself was painted shiny black
with burned cocoanut. Another had used the same
invaluable pigment to darken his eyebrows, and circle
round his eyes, so that he presented a curiously theatrical
appearance, only a little marred by the broad red stripe
down his nose. Some had fastened plumes of cock's
or parrot's feathers, glossy black or vivid green, into
their woolly hair; others arranged scarlet flowers in
it with some taste, and all were striped about the face
with warlike vermilion paint in different patterns.
A pig's tail in each ear was evidently the crowning
touch of elegance, and boar's tusks, worn locket-wise
upon the chest, seemed the height of the mode. Most
of the men had charms done up in greasy little packets,
hanging on a very dirty sinnet string round the neck,
as a protection against murder. These, it may be
noted, were carefully adjusted on the back, not on
the breast, for a Malekulan always attacks in the rear.
Small water- worn stones are the charms most commonly
used.
All were armed with rifles, and if the ammunition
of the rest was to be judged by some specimens I saw,
every one was loaded for elephant at the least. As the
largest indigenous animal in the islands is the fruit
bat (excepting the wild boar, which is probably an
introduction, and is not at all dangerous), it seems
fairly obvious that the noblest of all animals was the
game for which my friends were prepared.
There was nothing noble about themselves, however,
:T>-.^' :.^ I --"W '^^^
MALEKULA WARRIOR
MALEKULA— THE OUTER MAN 203
for a more ill-looking crew I had never seen. Nor
does the Malekulan's expression beHe his nature. As
already suggested, he considers murder a fine art, and
treachery the highest of accomplishments. Cannibalism
he thinks a proof of a fine manly character, infanticide —
usually compassed by the simple method of throwing
unwanted children into the forest to die, or burying
them alive — is a recognised social custom. He trusts,
and is trusted by, no one, for he walks in the continual
fear of death, and with murder always lurking in his
own heart. In truth, the "Shadow cloaked from head
to feet" spreads, night and day, its gloomy wings over
evil, beautiful, mysterious Malekula.
A new fashion in murder, by the way, had come
in some time before my visit to Sou'-West Bay, and this
was the manner of it. You contrived to get on friendly
terms with your enemy, and began to talk to him.
Your gun, of course, was held under your armpit as
you talked, cocked and loaded as usual, because that
is a thing that no gentleman would think of objecting
to, when your arms were held harmlessly down by
your sides. And while you talked, discussing the last
pig-killing, and the yam crop, and the likelihood of a
hurricane, you kept carelessly shifting the gun about
under your armpit, till it was at the proper angle to
cover your enemy's heart. So, while you still talked
pleasantly, and still kept your innocent hands well
in view, another native diplomat, acting as your con-
federate, slipped up behind you and pulled the trigger.
. . . Very neat — and very Malekulan.
These warriors interested me greatly, by reason of
their demeanour, which presented quite a novelty in
my experiences of island travel. Some of them had
probably been "recruited" for labour in other parts of
204 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
the group, and must have seen white women; but many
certainly had not. Now, about out-of-the-way places
in the Eastern and Southern Pacific, the sight of a
stranger, especially a woman, creates almost as much
excitement as a flying-machine would do. Crowds
follow the visitor, and the liveliest and minutest curiosity
is expressed about all his or her belongings, peculiarities,
and manners. Life, indeed, for the time being, is lived
under a social microscope, and every word or action is
noted with the deepest interest.
Not so with my friends the Malekulan fighting men,
in the gloom of the dark-green forest. From a safe
distance, they regarded us with a sort of sullen curiosity,
not unmingled with fear. They did not smile; they did
not approach to question our native boys. They stood
or squatted in groups, leaning on their guns, and watch-
ing us uneasily under their lowering brows.
The missionary and I were hungry now, and we sat
down and ate, while the Malekulans, waiting for other
parties to join them, stood in the shade of the darkest
trees, and touched up each other's faces — always keep-
ing an eye upon us. We could not offer them any of
our sandwiches and cake (as etiquette would have obliged
us to do in other island groups), for Malekula is honey-
combed with caste superstitions, and no man will touch
food prepared at a fire used for cooking that of an}^ other
caste. Labourers on a plantation, preparing their evening
meal, may be seen lighting almost as many fires as there
are men, sometimes, before they will cook their
food. . . . Another of Malekula's many mysteries.
Whence comes the caste idea, among such a degraded
race? Whence, again, certain Jewish ceremonies, which
are almost universal? Whence the four or five distinct
racial types, and the six or seven entirely different
MALEKULA— THE OUTER MAN 205
languages, in this one island? Whence, above all, the
purely Caucasian face that appears in certain of their oldest
images? Why do the "hamals" or sacred houses, show
an architectural skill never displayed in the miserable
huts of the coast — though rumour says the towns of the
interior are well and handsomely built? What is the
truth about the pigmy men ? What is the real significance
of the figures of the "frigate" bird, that seem so closely
interwoven with all their religious ideas? . . . Nobody
knows; and, so far as I was able to ascertain, nobody
cares very much either.
I went over to the group of fighting men by-and-by,
to examine their decorations, and, if possible, converse
with them a little through the medium of our boys.
They seemed sullen and fearful, however, and disinclined
to speak. A few women soon after appeared with loads
of yams, and stopped to rest. They were evidently
terrified at the sight of me, and most of them would not
come near me. Those who did come regarded me with
a scowling suspiciousness which I was far from returning,
as I knew their presence meant that everything was right.
More than once in just such mountain fastnesses as these
has a too-venturous trader or recruiter, who had come up
with an armed guard of his own, received warning that
mischief was at hand by the sudden disappearance of all
the women; and more than once the warning has been
too late.
I picked up the basket of yams which one of the
women had laid down, and tried its weight on my
shoulder. It was amazingly heavy, and though I was
nearly a foot taller than the wizened little creature who
had been carrying it, I shovild not have cared to take it
very far. The women of Malekula are bent and mis-
shapen with the enormous loads they are obliged to carry,
2o6 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
and their expression is, if possible, more degraded than
that of the men. Pleasure of any kind is a thing unknown
to them — ^there is nothing for them to enjoy from the
pandanus-plait cradle slung over the mother's shoulder
to the grave, which is only a hole scratched in the surface
of the earth, unnamed and unremembered — if, indeed,
anyone takes the trouble to bury the poor little corpse
at all. I shall never forget the face of a bush woman
(who came down to the mission-house some days later,
from another village, carrying yams for her husband to
sell) when I gave her a pink ribbon and tied it round her
neck. A sort of sacred joy seemed to overflow her
whole countenance, and lift her far above the things of
common earth. She seemed to feel ennobled and exalted
by this wonderful thing that had happened. That she
should have had something given to her — she, a woman !
— and that it should be this marvellous piece of loveliness,
this nameless thing of beauty! Surely the skies were
going to fall! She was all one ecstatic grin until she
went away, evidently treading on air and feeling six
inches taller; and I was glad to know that her husband
could not take the treasure away from her, as anything
that had been w^orn by a woman might never afterward
be allowed to disgrace the form of the superior sex.
The basket of yams was not an easy thing to handle,
owing to its irregular shape, and I was careless enough
to let it slip and fall to the ground, while I had it. There-
upon from all the fighting men rose a roar of laughter
like the bellowing of a herd of bulls. I had not known
they could laugh before, and I certainly did not want
them to do it again. I asked for an explanation, and
received it from one of our boys, in pigeon English of
singular quaintness. ("Mary" is the pigeon English
for "woman.")
MALEKULA— THE OUTER MAN 207
"Mary belong Malekula man; she carry yam all-a-
time," the youth explained. "Yam he break very
quick, suppose you no put him down very good. You
make him capsize, that-fellow yam; all a Malekula man
he say: 'That-fellow Mary he no savee carry yam' — he
plenty laugh."
It was my horrid ignorance, then, that had amused
the Malekulans — the gross want of education I displayed
in dropping breakable yams on the ground. Luckily,
none were actually broken. "What sort of a woman
is this — ^what use is she, that she cannot carry yams.
Where was she raised? Who let her out?" were their
obvious comments.
One does not enjoy being pilloried for ignorance,
even in the wilds of the New Hebrides. I was quite
glad when the procession moved on.
Later we came to a halt. Most of the men had gone
on in front of us, and we could hear them singing and
dancing in the village above. A dozen or so were loafing
about the pathway, waiting for their turn to go up and
join in the performances. Our native guide would not
let us go on for some time, only answering our questions
with : " Very good you no go firs' ; that-fellow stop behin'.
By-n'-by he go on, then you coming."
When the fighting men were all safely past us (I do
not, and did not at the time, believe that they intended
any treachery ; our boys were rather a nervous and over-
cautious lot), we followed after, on the way to the town
which now lay not very far above.
CHAPTER XII
MALEKULA— THE INNER MAN
How a Malekulan Town is Defended — The Idol Dance —
Fintimbus and the Pig — Gregorian Chant in the
Wilderness — What are the Malekulansf — An Inter-
view with a Cannibal Chief — The Lost Opportunity —
No Admittance to the Temple — A Marvellous Mummy
— The Bluebeard Chamber — Making of a Conical
Skull — The Captain s Story
THE approach to the town was remarkable. For
some time before we reached the fence, the narrow
foot-track ran double, and in places treble. One could
not have found the right way unaided, save by chance,
since the pathways wound about in a puzzling fashion
that was evidently designed to mislead. At the last turn
below the village, a cluster of bullet-marks showed
conspicuously on the bark of a big tree. It looked rather
as if the crack marksmen of the place were fond of practis-
ing long shots from above on this point — a good one for
the effective picking off of undesired callers.
The town, when we reached it, we found to be ap-
proached through a narrow opening, very easy to defend
in case of attack. It was surrounded by a stockade, and
looked, on the whole, not the most peaceful place in the
world. At the far end stood a single tall gabled house,
the village hamal or temple. The other houses were a
mere collection of miserable huts, roughly built of reed
and bamboo, and with no walls to speak of. An open
209 j
2IO FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
space in the middle surrounded a cluster of great drum-
idols, with the usual uncanny skull-like faces. A boy
was beating these, so as to make a terrific din ; and round
and round the idols, in the brooding heat of the damp,
gray afternoon, rushed the natives, running at full speed,
and singing loudl}^ as they went.
There was something curiously familiar to me in
the whole strange, wild, horrible scene, although I had
never, with my bodily eyes, looked on the like before.
It was the very atmosphere of dreams that I felt — ^bad
dreams of the restless small hours, when a w^earied brain
had revenged itself upon an overtired body by opening
up a picture-book of ghastly nightmares, and fluttering
the leaves from midnight until dawn before the sleep-
bound mind. The very air was thick and cloudy, like
the air of dreams; there was only a stray gleam of sun-
light every now and then, painting sharp Rembrandtesque
effects among the shadows, as the ugl}^ black figures
fled endlessly past. The silence of all except the singers
added to the illusion. Women stood far off in rows,
dressed out w^ith armlets of white pearl-shell, bead neck-
laces, and a small pandanus-woven scarf round the waist.
They held a tall reed in each hand, and leaned on it, as
they shuffled their feet silently, stupidly, noiselessly.
Men, with an inch-wide belt of crimson fibre, set in an
emerald-green satin strip of pandanus leaf, about the
waist, and cotmtless adornments of tortoise-shell cuffs,
bracelets, and earrings, stood in motionless groups all
over the village, looking at the dance. The drums
thundered endlessly; the naked figures fled ceaselessly,
with bent heads and rushing feet, round about the idols,
while the wild, monotonous chant went on and on and on,
as if it never would end. The heavy air, and probably
a touch of the fever that is never very far away from the
THE WOMEN'S DANCE
DANCING AND SINGING
MALEKULA— THE INNER MAN
211
isiand traveller, added to the dream-illusion, until I
could have sworn that I was somewhere at home tucked
up (rather too warmly) in bed, and struggling with an
unpleasant nightmare that would, of course, dissolve
and vanish as soon as somebody came to call me.
. . . Hour after hour, the dance went on; and the
heat grew worse and worse, and the yelling of the chant,
and thundering of the idol-drums, seemed to paralyse
one's very brain. ... I shall never be sure whether
I did not dream the dance of Atamat and Fintimbus,
which took place some time — any time — I cannot tell
when — in the course of that bewildering afternoon.
If I did, I dreamed as follows. That Atamat, a
notorious cannibal chief and a famous murderer, with
a face like an iron devil, and limbs like the trunks of
trees, came out by himself, and danced a solo dance
over about half an acre of ground. The chant had
ceased, the drums were silent; in absolute stillness he
performed his dance. His bare feet made no noise upon
the dusty earth; like some evil shadow, he flitted sound-
lessly over and over, and across and across the dancing-
ground, using very little in the way of actual steps, but
showing wonderful lightness and agility, although his
immovable countenance and far-seeing eyes never for a
moment altered or relaxed. At one period of the dance,
it seemed evident that he was representing a bird of
prey; and the representation was certainly excellent —
it was impossible to misunderstand the steady sailing
motion, arms slanted or outspread, the short rising
flutter, and the quick dart or pounce. If I mistake not
greatly this is a cannibal dance, and used at sacrificial
feasts for the way in which the dancer's evil eyes glanced
over his audience, and the significance of the sudden
short rush, were exceedingly suggestive. Atamat is a
212 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
notorious cannibal himself, and there is certainly not a
man in his village who has not tasted human flesh; for
when such a dainty is on the menu, it is very carefully
shared out all round, even the small children getting a
bone to pick, to "make them strong."
("He plenty good ki-ki, one-fellow man," confessed
an old man on the beach one day. "Plenty good, Missi
— all same one-fellow chicken!")
There was no fear of a cannibal ending to-day, how-
ever; for all the women were in sight, and moreover,
the Malekulans are modest about this little weakness
of theirs. Like Kipling's hero, "They do not advertise'*
(when whites are about), and if they had contemplated a
bit of baked man as a treat, it would not have been
brought out. Nor is cannibalism an everyday occurrence.
If a man is shot his enemies do not let his body go to
waste, provided they can get hold of it, and revenge
often fills the cooking-pots, but deliberate killing for the
sake of eating is not common.
But the second part of the dance was still to come.
Atamat had not long finished his solo, when a loud
sound of chanting was heard in the distance. Nearer
and nearer it came, and at last into the town at the head
of a brave following stalked a young chief of some
importance, named Fintimbus. With him Atamat immie-
diately resumed the dance, his countenance as inexpres-
sive as ever.
A pretty fellow was Fintimbus, according to Male-
kulan ideas. He had a head like a black feather-mop,
adorned with a big green parrot-tail; his lips occupied
half his face, and his skull was shaped like an egg. He was
handsomely dressed in elbow-deep cuffs of solid tortoise-
shell, a trade cartridge-belt, a boar's tusk worn locket-
wise on his breast, and a pig's tail in each ear. On his
THE DANCE Ul AJ AMAT AND llMl.Mi:'--
A DANCING MASK
MALEKULA— THE INNER MAN 213
shoulder he carried a large black pig — alive — and with
this singular cotillion favour he began gravely "setting
to partners" to Atamat, who had now provided himself
with a big bouquet of palm leaflets and crimson ginger-
flowers, and a conch shell a foot long — ^both things being
extremely sacred in character, and also acceptable as
I. O. U.'s for a pig in case you didn't happen to have
one handy about the house. Fintimbus, it seemed,
had made an offering of the pig he carried to Atamat,
and the latter therefore was bound to furnish a "promise
to pay" in return. The whole thing, I knew, had a
symbolic meaning of some kind, but no one, then or there-
after, could tell me anything about it. . . . Alas for
that scientific expedition that has never been to Male-
kula! Even an ignoramus like myself can understand
that many dark points in the history of primitive races
might receive light from a patient investigation of this
tangled mass of nationalities, languages, and customs.
Why, why, why? I kept asking myself through all that
marvellous afternoon. . . . Why were the flowers,
after being offered, laid reverently at the feet of a little
idol that stood in a shrine by itself — why were the pigs
considered sacred — and why, in the name of all things
that drive men insane, was the dancing chant of this wild,
degraded, unmusical people as like Gregorian chant as
one pea in a pod is like another? I should certainly
think I had been crazy when I fancied this, were it not
that my missionary companion remarked himself that he
had often thought these chants exactly like the sort of
thing one heard when passing by some Continental
cathedral ! . . . No — there was no mistake. No choir-
singer could fail to recognise that steady rise and fall,
those sad minor cadences, those stately yet monotonous
intervals. ... I do not say that the heathens of
214 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
that cannibal town sang Gregorian chant as we know it,
while they danced with cocked and loaded guns round the
idol-drums in the square, but I do say that the two things
were cousins, and not far-off cousins at that. If anyone
wants an explanation, I can only recommend him to go
to Malekula and look for it, and pray for better luck
than mine.
Atamat and Fintimbus danced, I think, for about an
hour, and then stopped. I do not know why they stopped ;
there seemed no reason why they should not go on for ever.
It seemed to me then, as they had come to an end, that I
ought to seize the opportunity of interviewing such a cele-
brated personage as this notorious chief, so I went up to
him, and tried to carry on a conversation, with the help of
a mission boy who didn't know Atamat's language at all
well, and certainly knew very little of mine.
Atamat is not what the suburban lady would call
a "nice gentleman." He does not wear clothes, he has
no manners to speak of, and he has a way of looking
right through you, as if he saw something unpleasant
just behind you, but didn't think it, or you, worth
mentioning, that is rather disconcerting. I offered him
my hand ; he took it, looked at it, and gave it back, with
a countenance devoid of any expression whatever. I
gave him some tobacco; he grabbed it without looking
at me, bit a piece off, and turned his shoulder on me.
I wanted very much to ask him "How it feels to be a
cannibal" — ^but I was quite sure the boy was not equal
to that, so I told him I thought his dancing very good.
At this, he burst out into a wild chant celebrating his
own virtues and excellences, handed a yam and a taro to
the boy as a return for my tobacco, and walked off, still
chanting. And that was all the notice he took of my
insignificance, then or afterward.
MALEKULA— THE INNER MAN 215
An enormous tusker pig was then led in, as an
addition to the coming feast, by a procession of much
be-painted men, who entered the villages talking slowly,
and singing as they went. The dance had now gone on
for several hours. I was decidedl}^ bored, and our guides
were getting anxious to be away, as it seemed evident
that our presence was not enjoyed, though not actually
resented. Sullen unsmiling faces had watched every
movement we made since we entered the town, and
there was an atmosphere of " To-what-do-we-owe-this-
pleasure?" that was both unflattering and chilling.
Of one thing I was quite certain, long before the after-
noon was over — ^that Mr. B had been in the right
when he asked me not to bring my little revolver with
me, and told the mission boys to go unarmed, like
himself. The Malekulan is above all things suspi-
cious, and the close watch kept on our movements
was evidently intended to detect our intentions up
there. Our only way of assuring the people that
they were harmless, was to bring no possible means
of doing harm.
I think the desired impression was conveyed, for
just before we finally made up our minds to start home,
a sinister-looking personage swaggered up to us, and
said in fairly comprehensible pigeon English something
or other about "the Frenchman." Mr. B turned
to me and remarked: "That's a celebrated character
— the fellow who killed poor G . "
"Yes, I killum all right," said the man with childish
vanity, watching to see the effect of his words. I wanted
to secure a photograph of the criminal who had eluded
the ptirsuit of English and French men-of-war alike for
several years; but this was no simple bushman of the
hills, and he quickly got out of range of my camera.
2i6 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
Indeed, he slipped away into one of the huts, to be quite
safe. . . .
. . . It was several weeks after, and I was talking
to a British naval officer, in a civilised house near Vila.
"Why," said the naval officer, almost tearing his
well-groomed hair with disappointment — " why on earth
did you not bring him down with you when you had
him?"
. Six miles from anywhere, up in the fighting
country, in a town unknown to whites — Mr. B ,
myself, the boat-boys, with a pen-knife and two hatpins
among us for arms, against two or three hundred mur-
derous savages, provided with rifles, and very easy to
offend. . . I am content to acknowledge that I
thought the order too large to execute, and think so still.
If one had been Deadwood Dick, or Captain Kettle, and
had lived in a book, where all things are possible, the
outlaw who thus amused himself by defying the whites
would certainly have lived to repent his rashness. Mr.
B and I would have hypnotised the two or three
hundred warriors, tripped up and secured the murderer
by means of a timely display of "jiu-jitsu," and made
the boatmen carry our capture down to the shore — or
else we should have timed our visit to come off just as
an eclipse was due, prophesied its arrival, and assured
the tribes that the sun would never come out again unless
they gave up the murderer to us to take away. That
would have made an excellent chapter, and proved in a
flattering manner that two Britons are equal to two
hundred niggers any day in the week.
But I did not live in a book then, dear reader, though
I am living in one now — so I let the outlaw go, and
strapped up my camera for departure, only concerned
about the fact that we should be very late for supper,
MALEKULA— THE INNER MAN 217
at the rate things were going. And then we walked
single file out of the wolf-mouth entrance to the cannibal
town, and started away down to the coast once more.
The dance we had been seeing, I understood, was
the last of the dancing season. It is only at certain
times of the year that the Malekulans get up these fetes.
The missionaries say that there is some connection with
the gathering of the yam harvest; and, so far as I could
ascertain, there seems certainly to be a flavour of heathen
"harvest thanksgiving" about the proceedings.
Circumstances obliged me to make a much shorter
stay in Sou'-West Bay than I should have wished. I
was acting as correspondent for a colonial newspaper
that wanted an account of the native troubles at that
time prominent in the group; so a week or two was all
I could spare for the wonders and mysteries of the Bay
district. Two other days, however, were full of interest
almost equal to that of the "harvest thanksgiving"
afternoon.
On one, we went to a curious little village on the
borders of the inland fiord or lagoon. You came to this
village by two well-defined separate paths, approaching
it in different directions. One was intended for men,
the other for women. The tribes of the valley — who
spoke a language quite different to that of the tribes
of the hill above — did not allow women to walk upon
the same pathway as the "superior" sex. Further,
in this part, every married woman was distinguished
by a dark gap in the ivory-white teeth of her upper jaw,
where the two middle incisors had been knocked out
with a stone. This extremely unpleasant substitute for
the wedding-ring is found in various parts of Malekula.
The operation is performed by the old women of the tribe,
who greatly enjoy the revenge they are thus enabled to
2i8 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
take on the younger generation, for the injury once
inflicted by their elders upon them.
Our party, it may be noted, took the men's path
going up to the village. A native woman would have
been promptly knocked on the head if she had com-
mitted such a sacrilege, but we knew that, so near the
coast, the people would not resent my walking over the
tabooed ground, and it is always advisable, among
savages as degraded as these, to emphasise the fact
that the white race must not be expected to conform
to native regulations.
There was no getting round the "regulations," how-
ever, in a matter of very much more importance — the
question of seeing inside a hamal, or sacred house. A
village right on the coast, where the people had quite
a decent reputation, possessed a remarkably good hamal,
and I was very anxious, the day we visited the place,
to go inside. ... It might have been scientific
ardour, or it might have been feminine curiosity — I
could not undertake to say. Anyhow, I wanted to get
in very badly. But the natives would not hear of it.
Mr. B asked, I entreated, we both offered bribes.
The men were firm. I should not go in, they said. I
should not even put my head inside to look. Mr. B
might go if he liked; not the woman, on any account
whatever.
Mr. B went m, and came out enthusiastic in
praise of what he had seen. He had been into many
hamals, he said, but never had he found such carvings
and such mummies. The latter were there in bunches,
hanging up against the walls and roof-tree. It w^as a
terrible pity I could not see them, for no museum in the
world contained a specimen, and very few people even
knew that they were made. But the men all had guns,
BRINGING OUT THE MUMMY
MALEKULA— THE INNER MAN 219
and they were extremely emphatic about the question
of my entry. It was clearly no use.
We then set to work to persuade the villagers into at
least bringing out one of their mummies, that I might
photograph it. At first they refused flatly, but a good
deal of worrying, and a little plug tobacco, at last brought
success. One rather good-natured-looking youth (he
belonged to the highest type of Malekulan, a fairly well-
featured kind) went into the hamal, and produced a
wonderful thing, which he set up against the gable, warn-
ing Mr. B not to let me come too near, or touch the
sacred object.
It appeared to be the stuffed skin of a man, fastened
on poles that ran through the legs and out at the shoul-
ders. The fingers of the hands dangled loose like empty
gloves. The hair was still on the head, and the face was
represented by a rather cleverly modelled mask made
of vegetable fibre, glued together with bread-fruit juice.
In the eye-sockets, the artist had placed neat little cir-
cular coils of cocoanut leaf, and imitation bracelets were
painted on the arms. The face and a good part of the
body were coloured bright red. The ends of the stretcher
poles were carved into a curious likeness of turtle heads.
Standing up there in the dancing light and shade of the
trees, against the high brown wall of the hamal, the
creature looked extraordinarily weird and goblin-like.
It had a phantom grin on its face, and its loose skinny
fingers moved in the current of the strong trade wind . . .
it certainly looked more than half alive.
Well. I was glad to have seen it, but it is certainly
not the sort of object I should care to decorate my own
hall with, as I understand a local resident has done with
one that he was lucky enough to get as "loot" during a
recent punitive raid. That is the only occasion on which
220 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
one could secure a specimen of these remarkable mum-
mies. No money would tempt the natives to part with
one, voluntarily.
I may here add that I did succeed in seeing the inside
of a hamal later on — near Uripiv, along the coast, if my
memory is not at fault as to the name. It was during
the leisurely tour in the steamer down toward Vila again.
The hamal was near the shore, and I came upon it during
the course of a walk with one or two passengers. It
was not nearly so handsome as the building in Sou'-
West Bay, but as it stood by itself, and as there was
nobody near except a few unarmed old men and a woman
or two, it presented a chance which I should have been
sorry to miss. I hastily got over the bamboo fence and
went inside, in company with the other passengers. It
was very dark, and at first we could see nothing, but
by-and-by we were able to perceive a number of skulls
carefully laid away on shelves, like pots of jam, and a
dozen or two mummies, hanging up on the supporting
posts of the roof. Some of these were like the figure I
had seen in Sou'-West Bay; others seemed to be simple
skeletons covered with vegetable padding painted red.
There were also adzes, killing-mallets, and drum-sticks
of various sizes, curiously carved into the likeness of
semi-human faces, and painted roughly in colours. The
whole place smelt far from agreeably, and I did not want
to be caught, in case the old men went off to tell tales, so
I came out after a few minutes, and went down to the
ship again, as it was getting near sailing time. After-
ward, I heard that my sacrilege had been seen, and that
it was in consequence very fortunate for my health that I
had the steamer waiting outside to take me off.
I am inclined to think that if ever I go back to Male-
TOWN OF LEMBA-LEMBA
INFANT HEAD-BINDING
MALEKULA— THE INNER MAN 221
kula, I shall do well to avoid the neighbourhood of that
hamal. But anyhow, I saw the Bluebeard chamber!
It was while I was staying with the kindly and
hospitable B s (there are four families in the New
Hebrides whom I shall always remember with infinite
gratitude, and the B s are one) that I had the chance
of photographing what I believe has never been photo-
graphed before — the making of a conical head.
A good many years ago, certain men of science who
had procured skulls from all parts of the world were
struck with the extraordinary egg-like shape of some
that came from Malekula. No one knew much about
the people who owned these remarkable heads, and
Science, forthwith, erected rather a pretty theory on the
basis furnished by the skulls, placing the owners on the
lowest rung of the human ladder, and inferring that they
were nearer to the ape than any other type at that time
known.
Later on someone happened to discover how it was
that the skulls came to show this peculiar shape, and
the marvel vanished, when it was known that compression
in infancy was the cause. It is still, however, a curious
thing enough. Several other nations compress their
infants' heads, but none seems to attain quite such a
striking result as the Malekulan, in those districts where
the custom is systematically practised. A conical head,
when really well done, rises up to a most extraordinary
point, and at the same time retreats from the forehead in
such a manner that one is amazed to know the owner
of this remarkable profile preserves his or her proper
senses — such as they are. I could not hear, however,
that the custom was supposed to affect the intellect in
any way.
222 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
("It would be hard to affect what they haven't got,"
observed a trader, on this subject.)
The conical shape is produced by winding strong
sinnet cord spirally about the heads of young babies,
and tightening the coils from time to time. A piece
of plaited mat is first put on the head, and the cord is
coiled over this, so as to give it a good purchase. The
crown of the head is left free to develop in the upward
and backward fashion that is so much admired. One
fears the poor babies suffer very much from the process.
The child I saw was fretful and crying, and looked as if
it were constantly in pain; but the mother, forgetting
for the moment her fear of the strange white woman,
showed it to me quite proudly, pointing out the cords with
a smile.
She had a normally shaped head herself, and it
seemed that she had suffered by her parents' neglect
of this important matter, for she was married to a man
who was of no particular account. A young girl who
was standing beside her when I took the photograph,
had evidently had a more careful mother, for her head
was almost sugar-loaf shaped. It is interesting to know
that this well-brought-up young woman had married a
chief.
Malekulan skulls are considered rather Valuable
curios in these days, and it is hard to obtain one. I
succeeded in getting a native of Sou'-West Bay — never
mind how — to steal one for me out of a temple. I do
not know what happened after, but I am quite sure that
my coloured friend took good care of his own valuable skin.
The captain of the steamer rather envied me m}^
acquisition, when I came to go away. He had one,
but it was not such a good specimen. The story of
its acquisition, however, is worth repeating.
MALEKULA— THE INNER MAN 223
"I wanted a skull for some time, but I couldn't
hear of one," said the amiable sailor. "However,
last trip but one, a fellow with a sack came up in a
canoe and said he'd something for me. I told him
to come aboard, and blest if he didn't tumble out on
the deck a raw new head, eyes in and hair on and all!
'What the, etc., etc., do you mean,' says I, 'bringing that
filthy thing on to my ship?' 'I think you wantum
one-fellow head,' says he. 'So I do,' says I; 'but
I don't want a dirty thing of that kind; it's a nice clean
skull I want,' says I; 'and what's more, my man,'
I says, 'I'd like to know where you got it anyhow,
for you're a pack of murderers, the lot of you.' 'Oh,
he all right, he right,' says the fellow in a terrible hurry;
'plenty all right, I tell you! Pappa belong me, he
go finish yes'erday, and I bring him head; I think you
give me big-fellow tobacco!' ('My father died yester-
day; I have brought his head; give me a great deal of
tobacco.') "
"I did get a skull after all, next trip," he added,
reminiscently, "and I put it into a basin of carbolic
to soak, though it looked all right. And, as I'm a
living man, if a cockroach the size of a mouse didn't
run out of each eye, and one out of the nose, and there
they sat on the top of the skull and grinned at me ! . . .
Where are you off to? It isn't near tea-time yet!"
CHAPTER XIII
MALEKULA— PAGAN AND WARLIKE
Idols of the New Hebrides — The Famous Poisoned Arrows —
The Threatened Schooner — The Breaking of Navaar
— An Ill-natured Sea-Chief
ON THE subject of the idols of Malekula there is at
least a volume to be said, but it must wait for
speakers more competent than myself. I did not go
up to the New Hebrides to make scientific observations —
first, because I was not qualified to do so in a manner
that could add anything worth having to scientific
knowledge in general; and secondly, because I went to
the islands partly on business, and largely for fun —
two objects quite incompatible with serious research,
even if I had been capable of the latter.
For all that, no one possessed of a decent education
and an average share of curiosity could journey through
these mysterious, little- visited islands without constantly
"wanting to know" (like Rosa Dartle) a hundred things
that no one can tell; and most of them are connected
with, the images of idols. The missionaries, for whom
I have every respect, are unable as a rule to help. The
magnificent opportunities which they, and they only,
enjoy in these islands would make any scientific man
tear his hair with envy — embittered envy, too, since
no use, as a rule, is made of these rare facilities
by those who possess them. I do not see, however,
that the missionaries are to be blamed. Their education,
225
2 26 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
being strictly specialised, has not been of a kind
to lead them to take interest in such matters, or to
realise their importance; moreover, their case, as they
put it themselves, is reasonable. They are too busy,
they say, destroying all these customs and beliefs to
waste time in studying them, and too much interest
displayed toward them would hamper their real work,
by leading the natives to suppose that "heathen"
ideas were worth consideration. One may respect
such a position, while strongly disagreeing with it.
Some missionaries, however, have been sufficiently
interested in the strange customs about them to take
notes that may be really useful, especially in time to
come, when the advancing wave of civilisation shall
have swept away much that survives at present.
Among these is Mr. Watt Leggatt, to whom I am indebted
for permission to quote the following article from the
Journal of the Royal Anthropological Society of Australasia :
"A visitor to the island of Malekula, New Hebrides, is greatly
impressed by the huge images in the amils or village squares;
they are rudely carved and barbarously painted. His first idea is
that they are idols, but he learns that there is no worship paid
to them after they are once set up. On being told that they are
femes, or images of the dead, he naturally concludes that they are
representations of distinguished chiefs who have become demi-gods.
"Now while it is true that the Malekulans do, in circumstances
of danger, e.g., in a storm, shout appeals to their grandfathers for
help and protection, yet these images do not represent the apotheosis
of individual ancestors recently deceased. There is a very general
opinion that such is the case, but a little investigation shows it
to be erroneous.
"I think that they are rather the representations or tutelary
spirits of the different ranks, grades or castes into which Malekulan
men are divided. These are divided from each other by many
barriers, the most striking of which is that no man of rank can eat
food prepared on the fire of one lower. He cannot even light his
MALEKULA— PAGAN AND WARLIKE 227
fire with a brand from the other; but must make a new fire either
with matches or the old-time fire-stick.
"It will be noticed that these Temes, Demits, or Natemate
differ greatly from each other. Some are made of wood, others
of the butt of a fern-tree, some are painted in scrolls or stripes,
others in rings. Some display only a head, others are rude effigies
of the whole human body. In some the eyes are round, in others
oval-shaped, and curiously it was this trifling difference that first
attracted my attention.
"As the images were always spoken of as the property of
some one or other, and noticing that each man erected a new one
for himself, I naturally concluded that they were memorials of
his ancestors. The ignorance of the present generation as well
as the reluctance of the older men to discuss such subjects for a
long time prevented further knowledge. By degrees, however,
I noticed that an image of a different kind was set up by the same
man as he advanced from one rank to a higher.
"Quite lately while visiting the Maskelyne Islands on the
south-east coast of Malekula, the whole matter was cleared up.
The people there are perhaps deficient in the artistic skill of their
fathers, or may be while enjoying the festal rites, singing, dancing,
killing and feasting on pigs, they grudge the time spent in searching
for suitable trees or laboriously carving out new gods. Like
impecunious students at some of our universities who purchase
or hire second-hand gowns or hoods to enable them to pass for
their degrees, our Maskelyne Islanders buy the necessary Natemate
from their pastmasters, and resell them when they step higher.
He must, however, retain it while he remains in the rank it denotes,
and if he dies in that degree it is planted at his door.
"I have read of a similar custom in the island of Maewo,
where the ownership of some valuable mats is eagerly contested.
Too fragile to be removed, they hang, smoke-begrimed, in a dingy
hut ; but the honour of being known as their possessor amply com-
pensates the man for the pigs he has paid for them. Of
course, he can always get value for them by passing them on to
another.
" In the Maskelynes there are ten grades, each with its dis-
tinguishing Natemate.
" (i) Taresing. For which four boar pigs with tusks are paid
as initiation fee. The image is a rough post, five feet high and six
^28 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
inches in diameter. It is called Nahau, has a face roughly carved
at the top, and is painted blue and red.
"(2) Balanrum. Six pigs. The image called Savanral is
somewhat like a cross with the arms sloping upward. It is painted
in scroll designs in red, white, and blue. The head is painted
black, with little white feathers plastered over it.
" (3) Alunk. Six pigs. A fern-tree image called Bataru,
six feet high, coated with brown clay on which black designs are
traced. At the back of the head two short shafts stand up like
the handles of a wheel-barrow.
" (4) Matalau. Nine pigs. The image called Lovwis is a
long fern-tree trunk, carved with human figures or faces. They
have all got short sticks through the septum of the nose.
" (5) Bwiliau. Twelve pigs. The image Ambang is like
Savanral but is painted entirely red. In front of it two tiny human
figures called Mengov are set up. They wear caps of dried cocoa-
nut husk.
" (6) Bwilbon. Thirteen pigs. Bwila. A short figure of
wood, painted in scrolls of red, white, and black, with boar's tusks
from the jaws to the ears. There is hair on the top of the head.
" (7) Vilvilbon. Thirteen pigs. A large fern-tree figure called
Vilvil.
" (8) Balias. Ten pigs. Short figure painted in red perpen-
dicular stripes.
" (9) Meleun. Ten pigs. A figure about seven feet high,
painted in red and black perpendicular stripes. It is placed under
a thatched roof. Behind it is a small circle of flat upright stones.
" (10) Amat (high chief). I could see no image, but was
told that it was a long carved pole. On another island I was shown
a small carved stone image as the symbol of this rank. I am
doubtful if this is so. For this rank ten boar pigs are distributed,
and three killed. I have no doubt that there is a corresponding
division in each Mangke, as the ceremony is called, but I had
omitted to inquire at the time.
"There is an extra Mangke called Tan melev for which three
pigs are killed. The image is a long pole of hardwood carved
with human figures and faces.
"The colours employed in olden times were coral lime, yellow
oclire, a mineral green, and charcoal. Civilisation through the
trader has supplanted the green and yellow with laundry blue
MALEKULA— PAGAN AND WARLIKE 229
and red lead. They are more brilliant, no doubt, but less in keep-
ing with their surroundings.
"A remarkable fact is, that although the images are rude in
design, and out of all proportion, they are real attempts at por-
traying the human figure. Every part is carefully put in, yet
with the exception of the boar's tusks on one there is an entire
absence of the combination of the human and animal, as, e.g., in
the Hindu pantheon. This is possibly due to imperfect and
rudimentary notions of divinity, if these are at all gods. There
are no figures like the Ephesian Diana denoting the nourishment
of man and beast from many-breasted Nature. There are no
many-handed or many-eyed emblems of the omnipotence or omnis-
cience of the gods. We are still among the lowest and rudest
forms of religion.
"It is noteworthy that there are no female figures, although
there are some on North Malekula.
"The Natemate are set up round the Amil in no particular
order that I could see. When set up, reeds and ornamental shrubs
are planted round them, but only the highest were covered over.
"I hope others will pursue this interesting subject of which
I have but touched the fringe. The imagery of North and West
Malekula has many distinctive features which will repay a careful
study. We know next to nothing about the symbolism of the huge
drums, why some have one face and others have two, with three
eyes so ingeniously arranged that they serve as a pair for each face.
We are entirely ignorant as to the meaning of the great bird head
and outspread wings projecting from the ridges of the shrines, and
the prows of the canoes. I am sure that a knowledge of their
meaning would solve much that is mysterious in Malekulan mythol-
ogy, as many of their dances are representations of the dart from
covert and flight of a bird. Possibly their meaning is as obscure
to the present generation of natives as to ourselves, but there is
still hope that an investigation undertaken now^, may bring impor-
tant facts to light."
To this I can add a few notes of my own. The
very curious idol in the form of an arch, which I have
illustrated, does not seem to be at all common, and
is evidently not known in the district of which Mr.
230 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
Watt Leggatt writes. On the mainland of Malekula^
it certainly appeared to me that some sacred idea attached
to all the images in general, and there was, I heard from
a native some advantage (I could not make out what)
obtainable by walking under the arch-idol. A curious
parallel, this, to the " wishing-arches " familiar in our
own country!
The image with a double face — one face being carved
below the feet — is also, I heard, very uncommon. Its
upper face was the one that interested me the most,
from the peculiar type of the features. This, as I under-
stood, is an image of a very old traditional type. It is hard,
under the circumstances, to understand where the flat-
featured Malekulan obtained such an idea, for the features
of the image are undoubtedly those of a higher race.
"Higher race — well, I don't know," commented
an irreverent Australian who saw the photograph some
weeks later. " Looks to me like the very living portrait
of Mephistopheles in what-d'-you-call-em!"
There certainly is a flavour of the arch-tempter
about the mocking face of the image. . . . Will some
learned person kindly explain?
The question of the poison used for native arrows
is rather a vexed one in the islands. They are very
commonly carried, and opinion seems to agree on the
point that a wound from one almost invariably causes
death within ten days — ^generally about the ninth day.
Most of the white people believe that these arrows are
poisoned by being steeped for weeks in a decaying
corpse. One or two of the missionaries, however, say
that this is not the case, and that human bones, mostly
dug up after burial, are used for the points; death, in
consequence, being caused by blood-poisoning of an
ordinarv kind.
MALEKULA— PAGAN AND WARLIKE 231
I cannot say what the exact truth may be; possibly
both statements are correct, as customs may differ
in different places. I was fortunate enough myself,
in Sou' -West Bay, to come upon a native carrying
a bundle of poisoned arrows as used in that district,
and, as one of the mission boys was near, I asked him
to interpret my wish to see the arrows. The man —
who, as the photograph proves, was a singularly ugly-
looking wretch, even for Malekula — ^unwrapped the
arrows with a grin, and held them out to me to look
at. They had long sharp points without barbs, covered
so thickly with a brown gluey stuff that it was impossible
to see of what the points were really composed. These
arrows are always carried wrapped up in a neat little
parcel of banana leaf, so as to prevent any accidental
injury to the owner. The ordinary unpoisoned arrows
have long iron points with a row of small barbs, and
are carried without protection.
There is always the greatest difficulty in finding
out anything about native customs, since the people
are extremely reserved and distrustful, and the number
and variety of languages makes it most difficult to
exchange ideas. A native who can speak a little pigeon
English may try to inteipret but it is probable that
he knows the other mans language imperfectly, and
is incapable himself of even understanding the nature
of your idea. "Dead man" is about as near as most
people can get to an account of the manufacture of
poisoned arrows. It is unsatisfying, if sensational.
On this particular occasion, I suspected that there
was something not "purely Pickwickian" about the
carrying of those arrows, so, after giving them back,
and adding a present of tobacco, I asked ingratiatingly
what the old gentleman wanted them for? He giggled,
232 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
and made a reply which my interpreter translated as
"For killum man." Pressed to give further details,
he chuckled still more, and rapidly retreated toward
the bush.
. . . I was not at all suprised when a row of rather
wild-looking "bushies," all armed, appeared from
nowhere in particular, in the course of the next few minutes,
and began hanging about the mission grounds. The
boy said he was pretty sure they meant no harm to us,
but he thought they did not mean any good to the recruit-
ing schooner that had come into the bay overnight, for
they had been asking angrily where were the friends that
the schooner should have brought back to the bay from
the plantations — and their behaviour was undoubtedly
warlike. (What he really did say was something
like this: " I no think that fellow he make bad for misi-
nari; I think he plenty cross that schooner no takee-
him come him friend!") The schooner in question
was one that enjoyed a rather unsavoury reputation;
she had been in trouble over illegal recruiting more
than once, and no one would have been surprised to
hear, at any time, that her owners had paid in blood
the penalty of their bad faith — as so many before them
had had to pay, among these lawless New Hebrides.
She had come into the bay the evening before, and
had made the recognised recruiting signal, by exploding
a piece of dyriamite set adrift on a plank. Next morning,
her two boats, painted vivid scarlet, the recruiting colour,
had been out bright and early, but for some reason or
other they had not ventured to run up on the shore
and liad merely been rowing up and down the bay. . . .
Small wonder that they hesitated, if their consciences
were ill at ease, in a spot like Sou'-West Bay, where
over and over again the sands had been reddened with
MALEKULA— PAGAN AND WARLIKE 233
the blood of recruiting crews! The natives have long
memories, and they pay back with compound interest,
where they consider that they "owe one" — if, indeed,
they do not attack out of pure wantonness, as some-
times occurs.
I got out the camera when I saw the part}^ of bush-
men coming down to the shore, and tried to take a
photograph. These were sophisticated savages, how-
ever, and they were on an errand that they did not
wish to advertise. So most of them hid their faces
when they saw me focussing, and the resultant picture
showed very little.
Warning would have been sent from the mission
house to the ship, only that it proved to be unnecessary,
for the boats, after a little more rowing about, were
recalled to the vessel, and she set sail and went off
without having landed a man. And the bushmen, like
the Snark, "softly and silently vanished away," and
we all went in to tea.
The punitive expedition into the interior of Malekula,
which took place in October 1905, a few days before
my visit, had an excellent effect in calming down the
island generally. It started from Bushman's Bay,
and its immediate cause was the challenge sent out
by the men of Navaar to the whole British Empire.
They had been murdering stray whites, and carrying
on a hot campaign against the natives of an outlying
island, which endangered the lives of the missionaries
and traders very seriousl}^ as the people of Bushman's
Bay fired recklessly night and day across the water,
sending bullets right into the white settlement. Being
told by the men-of-war people to send down the chiefs
for a conference, and further, to stop that kind of thing
234 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
at once, they sent a message to say that the man-of-war
was an old woman, and that they declared war on
England! If the white chiefs wanted to see them,
they added, they might come up and do it. This was,
of course, intended as a mere defiance, for Navaar
(which had been brewing all the mischief), was eleven
miles up in the mountain interior, and had never been
even approached by white men.
The French and English warships, however, "had
much pleasure in accepting the kind invitation" of
Navaar. They brought a large party of bluejackets
to the entertainment, and a Maxim gun or two; and
they had surrounded Navaar, and placed the offenders
in a position where there was nothing to do but submit,
before the latter well knew where they were. After
the prisoners were secured, there was a brief scuffle
caused by the natives turning suddenly on their captors
in a body. Several Malekulans were killed, and the
British leader. Commander D'Oyly, had an extremely
narrow escape from a fatal stab. But the rising was
nipped in the bud ere well begun, and a number of very
sad and sorry heathens went down to the shore that
day, under strong escort. Later on, all were released
under promise of good behaviour; which, strange to
say, they kept. The claws of the worst fighting place
in Malekula had been effectively cut, and white men
and women's lives henceforth became possessions of
reasonable certainty, down in the coast-lands below.
The note of comedy is never wanting in savage
warfare. Wala and Rano, two of the islands on the
coast, had been sternly told that they must stop their
quarrels and make peace, because the lives of the whites
were endangered by their rifle-firing across the water.
A chief from Wala asked humbly to see the Great Sea-
MALEKULA— PAGAN AND WARLIKE 235
chief of the ship, as he wished to make terms. He
was allowed to come on board the Pegasus where, according
to orders, the bluejackets put him in a canvas tank,
gave him what he never had had before in his life — a
thorough scrubbing — before he was admitted to the
presence of the captain. Trembling all over, and utterly
subdued by this terrifying experience, he proffered his
humble request. They would certainly make peace,
he said — they would do all they were told — they would
never fire a shot again — only, there was just one favour
they would like to ask. Could the captain grant it?
" Certainly," was the reply. " Any reasonable request
will be granted, if it is at all possible. What is it?"
It was a very reasonable request indeed, said the
envoy, and the Great Sea-chief could grant it without
any inconvenience. All they wanted, before settlmg
down to peace, was that he should give them a man
from Rano to eat! Just one, no more, and the captain
might choose him for them — they would trust entirely
to his selection.
. . . It is hardly necessary to report the reply they
got. But I believe the men of Wala to this hour believe
that the sea-chiefs of Great Britain suffer from strange
prejudices, and are not at all good-natured!
CHAPTER XIV
HOT TIMES IN TANNA
Hot Times in Tanna — An Island of Murderers — The Terror
that walks in Darkness — A Tannese Village — Avenging
a Chieftain — Was it an Accident? — A Council of War —
Netik — The Work of British-made Bullets
TANNA is the southernmost but one of the New
Hebrides and enjoys a rather better chmate than
the northern islands, although the fevers are quite as
bad as those of Malekula or Santo. It is about twenty
miles by ten; mountainous and rugged in the interior,
and difficult to get about, as there are very few tracks,
and those not of the best. It has no harbours to speak of,
and the anchorages are bad.
This last statement did not excite my attention
very much when I came across it in various local works
of reference. It seemed to me that Tanna's deficiencies
in that particular line were matters that concerned
only the shipping companies and the captains directly
affected by them. Myself they did not interest, or
at least I thought so, until a certain November morning,
when I found myself standing on the deck of a Burns
Philp steamer, surrounded by all my wordly goods,
and looking with a very blank countenance toward the
biscuit-coloured coast of the island which I was going to
visit, and upon which I had just been informed I cotild not
possibly land. There was a tumbling blue-and-white sea
on, and the captain declined to risk his boats.
237
238 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
"What am I to do?" I asked.
"Go on to Aneityiim," said the captain pleasantly.
"We get there to-morrow, and there'll be a steamer
back here in a day or so."
"And if the weather is no better then?"
"Why, you can go back to Vila, and try again in
three weeks' time!"
The situation did not seem to admit of comment.
I walked aft, and sat down in the midst of a clutch
of Presbyterian mission babies, feeling very much
like the Malekulan in a pet, whom I had seen coursing
up and down his native shores not long ago, calling
out at intervals, "Oh, I am angry! I want a man
to eat!"
Two residents of Tanna, who were also desirous
of getting off at Lenakil, watched the shore with excited
interest. The sea began to go down a little, and it
looked as if we might have a chance, should any shore
boat venture off. And one did come off later on, dancing
and skipping alongside the steamer after a fashion
that made me thankful for my two years of "rough-
ing" it about the Pacific. To the traveller fresh from
home, the methods of landing passengers that obtain
about the islands seem at first a very bad joke, and then
a very unpleasant reality. Later, you grow callous;
you become used to the dangling rope ladder skipping
above the plunging boat, and the pla^-ful billow that
drops a ton of cold water in your lap, and the unbroken
reef that must be literally jumped on the crest of a wave,
the narrow passage full of tumbling foam, and edged
by coral splinters and pinnacles as sharp as broken glass ;
the squall that may get up at any inopportune moment,
and maroon you for a month where you least desire to
stay — and all the other little excitements that attend
..*^<f^-t
TANNESE SCAR-TATTOOING
t
HOT TIMES IN TANNA 239
embarking and disembarking about the "sunny isles
of Eden," beloved by poets who have never been there.
We landed safe and dry after all, the kind hosts
who had invited me to share their home during ni}^
stay remarking pleasantly that I was on Tanna now,
and I might think myself lucky if I got off again when
I wanted, for the uncertainty of when you might arrive
was only equalled by the uncertainty of getting away.
Tanna, we found on landing, had been enjoying a
very hot time of late. Drought and bush fires had
destroyed a good deal of vegetation, and the island
looked dry and burnt up. The tribes were "at it again,"
and more than twenty murders (which is the Tanna form
cf making war) had taken place in the last three months.
The house and plantation of a well-known trader had been
all but destroyed by a fire which was deliberately started
by certain hostile tribes, to burn up each other's gardens.
Tanna is always fighting more or less, and its popula-
tion— which could otherwise in all probability hold its
own — is rapidly diminishing. It has about five thousand
people, and seventy or more are shot each year — men,
women, and children — besides a large number who are
more or less seriously wounded. The arms used are
mostly old Sniders and Martinis, with an occasional
good modern rifle. The bullets are about the most
brutal things ever fired from a gun. They are great
lumps of lead, as large as the rifle can take, and have a
very heavy charge of powder. When they strike they
break, and inflict the most appalling wounds, splintering
bones, tearing out flesh by the handful, and scat-
tering destruction almost like a small shell. I could not
ascertain where they were made, but they seemed very
like the kind of thing generally used for elephants and
other big game by sportsmen. I have heard it suggested
240 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
that they are a special manufacture, and meant for just
the uses to which they are put. The maker, in any case,
is too modest to stamp his name on his work.
The Tanna people are a remarkable race, and, in
spite of their murderous tendencies, have a great deal
more character than the Malekulans. Queenslanders
know them well, for thousands of Tannese have been
employed in the Queensland sugar country from time to
time. Whatever they may have gathered of civilisation
in Australia stays with them but a little while after they
leave. On landing they generally take off all their clothes,
go back to their villages, paint their faces, and take a
hand in the latest tribal row, only too glad to be back
to savagery again. They let their hair grow, and engage
a hairdresser to do it in proper Tannese style — no trifling
job this, since it means an hour or two a day for many
weeks.
The hair is divided into minute locks of about a score
of hairs apiece, and each of these is wound round from
the base to within a few inches of the end, with very
fine fibre, so that the lock looks exactly like a piece of
tough twine, with a bushy tassel at the end. When
the whole head is completed, the effect is very striking,
as there are many hundreds of these tassel strings, ending
in a great bush upon the shoulders. A fillet of some kind
confines the hair over the forehead — a scarlet trade
ribbon, a strip of satiny-green pandanus leaf, or some-
times what looks like a long hank of tiny amber beads
on a flossy white skein of thread. This last is not what
it seems, however, being in reality a kind of fish-spawn,
often found in masses floating on the sea.
Most of the men wear armlets — a circle of carved
cocoanut, a trade bracelet made of china, or a strip of
dried grass, with a gay bunch of scarlet flowers thrust
bH( M M IM, i |s(i
NIGHT REFUGE
\
I
HOT TIMES IN TANNA 241
through it. The rest of the costume consists merely of
a leaf or two. The women wear a short kilt of dried
grasses, made full and spreading, and rather suggestive
of an emu's tail at the back. Both sexes are generally
ornamented with rows of parallel scars, or lines of raised
dots, made with the knife. The men are generally heavily
bearded, and strongly built; the women are of fair size,
and occasionally rather passable in looks. They are a
cheerful-looking race and quite devoid of the sulky,
hang-dog look that disfigures most other New Hebrideans.
Indeed, the Tannese, when not actively engaged in mur-
der or cannibalism, is not at all a bad sort of fellow. He
is an excellent sailor, and a splendid boatman, always
cheerful, if well fed, decently treated, and always ready
for an extra spurt of work, on any special occasion.
Like the Fijians, who were at one time the fiercest and
most brutal cannibals of the Pacific, and who are now
a peaceful and respecting nation worthy of the Crown
that owns them, the Tannese will in all probability
"train on" into a really fine race, as soon as they can be
restrained from continually murdering each other on the
slightest provocation, and induced to clean their houses
and themselves, and live decently and quietly.
A day or two after my arrival I got a native guide
and walked to Lamanian, a village some three miles
up in the bush, with the view of seeing something of
the fighting country. About Lenakil the tribes are always
at war, and a perfect reign of terror prevails among the
natives. The Tannaman dare not sleep in his village
by night, for fear of sudden surprise. After dark he
creeps out to the bush, and hides himself in a hole or a
gully till the morning. In the still, moonless hours he
may wake with a start, and hear a stealthy footstep
padding through the reeds close beside him, and to feel
242 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
the thud of a rifle-stock struck down on the earth within
a yard of his hiding-place, in the hope of discovering where
he Hes. The foot passes on — he is safe — ^but he cannot
sleep now; he must get up, and creep with painful care
through the scrub and the reeds to some yet lonelier,
yet more secret, spot. Is that the dawn at last, spreading
in faintest water-gray through the stems of the reeds?
It is — he must rise, shivering and weary, and hurry
home to the shelter of the village, before daylight sur-
prises him out alone in the bush, where every tree may
hide a murderer. And as he goes he keeps his rifle over
his shoulder, ready cocked and loaded, for he knows that
the enemies he fears fear him equally, and to-morrow night
he himself may be crawling on all fours about the stockade
of some hostile village, or gliding through the bush on
the other side of the bay, stalking just as he has been
stalked. Such is the Tannaman's life in these days.
On the way up to Lamanian we passed a good many
yam gardens, but only in one was any one working.
Here we found a few women digging and scraping under
the guard of two or three armed men. The women
nearly all had blackened faces — the Tannese sign of
mourning. The yam garden was a waste of parched and
powdery earth; the bush around was burned yellow
and brown; the pale sky above quivered with the fierce
midday heat. Stolid, ugly, and streaming with sweat,
the women worked dully on, breaking off for a few
minutes to stare and wonder at the visitor, and then
continued their heavy task. It was a weariful picture.
About the approach to the village the scrub had
been extensively cleared away, to prevent ambush.
The high, plaited-reed fence that surrounded the huts
was something of a safeguard, slight though it was, since
it could not easily be seen through by wandering sharp-
HOT TIMES IN TANNA 243
shooters. My native guide told me that it was some-
times supplemented by a portable bullet-proof fence, a
few yards in circimiference, inside which the women
sat and did their cookery.
The village itself was an ugly collection of low ram-
shackle huts, built of reeds and thatch. Its one beauty
was the great banyan-tree, which is never absent from
a Tannese town. Just at the entrance a tobacco-pouch,
a water-bottle, and a cartridge-case were hung on a
banana-tree, silent memorials of the last man who had
been killed by the opposing tribe. Most of the Lamanian
men were away, stalking the enemy through the bush
and reeds of the hills, but two or three, armed as usual,
were left to stand guard over the women.
There were some odd things hung up in the banyan-
tree — strange-shaped roots, fungi, neat little bundles
of sticks tied up like firewood. I was told that the last
were records or tallies of the biggest spiders' cocoons
that had been found ! When a Tannaman finds a spider's
cocoon he counts the eggs, and registers the number
with a bundle of sticks, one for each egg. It is his
ambition to "go one better" than the next village in
the score thus obtained. The other objects were simply
curiosities. The banyan, in fact, is the village museimi.
I could not find that there was any religious association
connected with these curious attempts at " nature study" ;
they seemed to be entirely scientific. More purely
utilitarian was the oddly shaped box I noticed in the
middle of the village — explained as follows by my pigeon-
English-speaking guide :
"One time Lamanian man he keep a bee there;
now I think the bee he clear out!"
Another day I went up to Imale, where there was
rumour of serious fighting. It was thought that an
244 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
attack — or something as near to an attack as the Tannese
ever make — would be made on this place in the course of
the day, for the Lowinnie men, who were hostile, knew
that a meeting of two tribes was to be held at Imale that
morning, and it was probable that they would try to
take advantage of the occasion. My host, the missionary
of the district, went with me. We carried no arms, as
there may be risk in doing so in Tanna, and there cannot
be much protection. As in Malekula, absence of firearms
at once proclaims the peacefulness of the visitor's errand,
so that he can approach a fighting village safely, as a
general rule. If the natives had any grudge against him,
and wished to kill him, he would be shot from ambush
in the back, so that firearms, even if carried, would not
be much use.
The walk up from the beach where we left our boat
to the hill village of Imale was exceedingly hot, as there
was a very steep rise, and no air circulated through the
tremendous reeds — over fifteen feet high — that shut in
the track. Every here and there these were cut away
so as to give a clear view ahead, and prevent surprise
from any one creeping softly along the open path round a
corner. We advanced quickly and rather noisily to the
village, and found a score or two of men sitting about
the square, nursing their guns. Right across the centre
of the open space lay an immense branch, cut down
from the great banyan overhead — a sign of vengeance
and a call for blood. The chief of the village had been
killed by the enemy, and this bough had been cast across
the village square to symbolise his fall, and act as a con-
tinual reminder. To-day it was to be burned, for a
friendly tribe from the other side of the bay had killed
the slayer of the chief, and his spirit was avenged. A
dozen or two of this tribe had slipped away at dead of
HOT TIMES IN TANNA 245
night in their boat, and come up to Imale in the dark.
They were now going to receive their reward from the
new chief of the village, who was the brother of the man
that had been slain.
No objection was made to our presence, and while
the missionary engaged in a little conversation with a
man he was hoping eventually to convert from heathen-
ism, I roamed about the square, photographing and
talking. I was not understood, but I did not under-
stand the replies I received either, so things were even.
There was a good deal of military science, in a small
way, about the disposition of the fighting men. The
women they had placed in an enclosure behind a high
reed fence. Some of their own number were perched
in high trees overlooking the approaches to the village;
others were squatted down on their heels, gun in hand,
at the two entrances. The rest sat or lay about the
village, keeping an intermittent lookout while they
talked, or stared at us with a kind of sullen curiosity.
I was sitting on the fallen banyan log, and watching
the villagers set fire to the far end of it, when two or
three men came hurriedly into the square, and rushed
up to an ugly old chief, who seemed to have quite as
much influence as the titular head of the village. They
carried a small green parcel, wrapped in banana leaf
and neatly tied with native fibre. Everybody wanted
to see it at once; all heads were bent over it, and all
eyes strained, while the old man untied the parcel, and
disclosed — a lump of fresh yam!
The celebrated footprint in "Robinson Crusoe"
could not have caused more excitement. To whom
did the yam belong? Whence had it come? How
had it been dropped where it was found, right in the
middle of a track leading up to the village? No one
246 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
knew anything about it. It seemed obvious that "an
enemy had done this thing," and an enemy who must be
unpleasantly near to the village at that minute.
Nothing could be done; so, after a good deal of
chatter, the old man merely told his followers to keep
a good lookout, and went on with his conversation,
which chiefly concerned the disposal of an enemy's body
supposed to have been partly eaten by him a few days
before. The missionary and I both wanted to know
about it — he because he wished to discourage this sort
of festivity; I because I wanted to get a thigh-bone as a
curiosity. It could not have hurt the gentleman who
had been made a roti of, and it would have been very
useful to me. But the old chief was "foxing"; he had
never heard of cannibalism, not he; the man hadn't
been eaten at all — ^he wasn't even sure that he had been
killed.
Such an innocent, amiable old man as he looked!
Such a simple, child-like smile as he put on! His gray
hair, tied up in a red and white pocket-handkerchief,
looked wonderfully venerable and reverend, and he
himself everything that was respectable — an impression
hardly detracted from by the circumstance that he wore
no other clothes save the head-dress referred to. And
yet — his fox-like old eye, shifting and twinkling under
those pent-house brows. . . .
"Now, look here, you know you did!" says the
missionary plumply.
The nice old gentleman's smile takes on a different
character — ^becomes, in fact, a giggle, like that of a
schoolgirl caught eating surreptitious chocolates.
"Well— I eatum jus' little-fellow bit!" he allows.
At this naive admission (based on a model that most
people will recall) I cannot help laughing irreverently;
HOT TIMES IN TANNA 247
and just at that moment, as Rider Haggard would say,
**a strange thing happens." The fifteen warriors squat-
ting at the other side of the square suddenly rise as one
man to their feet, and point their guns straight at us.
We are, in fact, in the position of a couple of deserters
facing a firing-party. There might be pleasanter positions.
"Stop that!" yells the missionary in Tannese; and
the natives lower their guns, looking a trifle astonished.
The old chief explains. It is quite a simple explanation
as he puts it — they saw a head moving some way behind
us in the scrub, so they were going to fire at it; that is
all. The circumstance of our heads — and bodies — ^being
equally in the line of fire is evidently not regarded as
pertinent to the matter in hand.
. . . Was it an accident, or what schoolboys call
an " accidental-done-on-purpose ? ' ' We never knew. The
New Hebridean mind is what Lewis Carroll would call
"scroobious and wily" — and no white man can follow
its turnings. It is quite capable of planning to kill you,
for no conceivable reason, and abandoning the plan, also
without reason, and in a minute. All that one can be
certain of about a New Hebridean is that there is no cer-
tainty in him.
It is now time for the pigs and kava, and a loud
grunting and scuffling forthwith arises behind the scenes.
The visitors are to be paid for the death of the enemy
they killed; and the payment takes the form of four
fine large black pigs, and a great heap of the root out of
which the Tannaman's favourite drink is concocted.
These are brought in in stately procession. The
pigs are then knocked on the head with clubs, and give
up the ghost without a struggle, though they look ugly
enough afterward, lying there in a blood-stained heap.
The recipients would rather have had them alive, but
248 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
custom prescribes that this blood-money must be given
Hterally stained with blood.
And now, relaxing their keen watch a little — ^for no
sufficient reason, since the enemy are just as likely to be
about now as they were half an hour ago — the men begin
to make speeches, and talk over the events that led up
to the murder for which they have just been paid. One
of the visiting tribe gets up, and walks backward and
forward, talking and gesticulating excitedly.
He seems to take turns with the old chief, who walks
out and back to meet him from the other side, talking
too. They are very like the figures in a fine-weather
mantelpiece toy — one out, the other in. A native who
speaks some English translates. It seems that between
them they are going back over the local history of the
last two or three years, registering every kill on one side
or the other, and working themselves up by enlarging
on their wrongs.
It is warmer than ever now; the bare dusty square
is simmering in the sun, and the sky is almost white
with heat. Even the naked Tannamen feel it; they
crowd together under the shade of the big banyan-
tree, turning their bushy, bearded heads and wild, fierce
eyes as one man toward the speaker of the moment.
Stra}^ lances of the stabbmg simlight touch the bandoliers
of cartridges that they wear, making a faint twinkle on
the dull brass and rusty buckles, and glancing off upon
the long barrels of the guns, that move and shake in the
shadow like ranks of tall, steel reeds. Above, in the
immense aerial forest of the banyan boughs, a mighty
swarm of locusts screams and chirrs ceaselessly.
If one w^ere lying ill of fever in one of those wretched,
sun-smitten huts, how fast that torturing chorus would
drive one to suicide or madness! . . .
HOT TIMES IN TANNA 249
And still the speeches go on.
"When will they stop?" I ask.
" There's no knowing. It may go on all day. The other
tribe will probably not dare to go home before dark."
" Then I suppose we may as well go ourselves." And
we went.
Down on the beach, the boat's crew were busy load-
ing wood, so I wandered off to see the refuges that the
people of Imale had been making use of at night. Here
and there, hidden among the pandanus and hibiscus
scrub close to the shore, I came upon low shelters of
plaited palm-leaves, laid against rude rough fences of
reed and leaf, meant to hide the faint glow of a cooking-
pit — ^baskets of food hung upon trees ; old blankets lying
in the sun at the mouth of some dark cave. These are
the places where the unfortunate villagers hide them-
selves after dark. An enemy may creep into a village
square at night, slip his rifle barrel inside a hut, and kill
the sleepers; but he can hardly hunt the whole bush
for his quarry. So the people of the hills hide themselves
near the shore at night, miles away from their own houses,
and return at break of day.
Not long after, I had a chance of seeing the Lowinnie
tribe, the very one whose approach had been feared by
the folk of Imale.
From the house where I was staying, I saw a long
string of bush people winding in single file down toward
the sea. I followed them, armed with my camera, and
found them down on the beach, the men standing about
with cocked and loaded guns, guarding the women as
they bathed in the sea. More than one woman of this
tribe had lately been shot, so they were especially careful
of the rest, for women are valuable property in Tanna,
worth several pigs apiece.
2 50 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
It was a bright and vivid scene — the intense white
sun beating on the snowy beach of broken coral, the
brilHant green vines traiHng across the strand, the burn-
ing blue sea, shading into clear apple-green close to shore ;
the wild brown faces, and gleaming smiles of the women,
excited by the importance of their armed bodyguard.
They wore the usual small fringe of grass about the hips ;
they had rubbed their bodies well with cocoanut oil, and
their brown skins shone with unwonted sleekness and
cleanness, as they came dripping out of the warm green
waves. Most of them were shy of the camera, and fled
with frightened cries; others, when begged to stay, stood
their ground for a minute, trembling and laughing.
There was no lingering to enjoy the pleasures of the bath.
As soon as all were out the column formed up once more
— armed men as advance and rear guards, women in
the middle, scouts scattered out to the left. I walked
along on the right for some way, watching the demeanour
of the scouts to the other side. They kept a sharp look-
out to the left, and carried their guns on their shoulders,
ready for immediate use. The worst of their enemies
lived over in that direction, and, as there was plenty of
cover, it was feared that they might do some sharp-
shooting, taking advantage of the large number available
for aim. There was no firing, however, and the column
wound off up to the hills in safety.
"Netik" is more or less at the bottom of the tribal
fights in Tanna. It is, briefly, a belief in the power of
one man to kill another by witchcraft. The Tannaman
firmly believes that if an enemy can obtain a lock of his
hair, a nail-paring, a bit of clothing, a scrap of half-eaten
food or half-smoked tobacco, he can with the fragment
make a spell that will cause the death of the owner.
Further, he keeps a constant lookout for oddly shaped
THE COUNCIL OF WAR— THE SPEAKER FOR WAR
THE COUXCIL iJl WAR- ■ W HA 1 W A.^ IHA 1
HOT TIMES IN TANNA 251
stones of all kinds, and when he finds something
resembling any part of the human body, he secures it at
once, makes offerings of food to it, and endeavours to
obtain the favour of the spirits through it, so that the
corresponding part of his enemy may waste away through
disease. If any Tannaman, therefore, suffers from disease
of any kind, he looks about for a man who may be sup-
posed to have some "netik" stone in his possession, or to
have obtained something belonging to the sufferer.
Sometimes the deed is actually claimed by an enemy
anxious to obtain credit for himself or to alarm others.
Sometimes an innocent person is fixed on as the cause.
In either case, there is trouble, and probably murder,
to follow. Every death, from any cause, is also put
down to "netik," and demands revenge as much as an
open murder. A continuous vendetta is thus created,
and fighting is never quite relinquished, at the best of
times. It would indeed be hard to say why it should
ever cease, under such circumstances.
At times there is some desire for peace manifested,
but it never comes to anything. During my stay at
Lenakil, a number of fighting men were seen one day
to be assembling on the shore below the house. This
is rather an unusual spectacle, so the missionary and
myself hurried down to see what was going on. It
proved to be a council of war. A number of the most
influential men from several different tribes had met
to discuss the fighting, and see if something could not
be done toward arranging a truce. For several hours
they talked, down on the blazing shore, in the slight
shelter of a clump of young palms, the speaker of the
moment standing, or pacing up and down, the listeners
squatting on the sand. The missionary joined in at
times, and tried to persuade them to come to some
252 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
agreement, but they did not pay much attention to
him. As for myself and my camera, they did not
trouble about either at all; a woman, in council of war
being obviously a negligible quantity.
One chief — an old and very evil-looking person —
addressed the house frequently and fluently in favour
of war. Another, who was young, heavily bearded,
and of a rather pleasant countenance, spoke in favour
of peace — so the missionary, who understood the lan-
guage, informed me. One could almost have guessed
the subject of the discourse unaided, however, from
the demeanour and features of the speakers — in one
case, mild and temperate, in the other, fierce, eager,
and excited. They remained on the beach talking
the greater part of the afternoon, and when they sepa-
rated at last, the speaker for peace had evidently been
defeated, and the advocate of war had won the day.
If the tribes could be disarmed, and the sale of
rifles stopped, fighting would probably cease, for the
Tannaman cannot murder from ambush with a club,
and he has not much taste for open warfare. But
the law that prohibits the selling of firearms by English
traders in the New Hebrides is a dead letter, and the
French do not attempt to check the sale at all. The
dual interest in the group, and the absence of definite
ownership, prevent the taking of any strong action
on either side, and so the loss of native life and injury
to property goes on unchecked.
No w^hite man has been killed on Tanna for several
years.
It cannot be long, however, before the reckless shoot-
ing of the Tannamen brings about another case. Not
to mention any other instances, myself and the local
missionary certainly came near to furnishing an example
/-4:^»^«aMP«H0»wr
HOT TIMES IN TANNA 253
in the village of Imale. I do not attempt to point
any moral. There is no use in saying that the owner-
ship of the islands ought to be settled and the natives
compelled to disarm because, at the present showing,
the New Hebrides tangle does not seem likely to
untangle itself before the trump of doom. Nor is there
any sense in blaming the traders. They cannot afford
to give up the sale of arms and ammunition singly,
since it would be merely casting trade into the hands
of the nearest rival, and depriving themselves of even
legitimate custom. If the sale of arms could be simul-
taneously stopped all over the islands, most of the
traders would be glad, as their profits from copra —
which depends on peaceful times for its production —
would at once go up. But no one can afford to stand
out, and there are a good many who would keep no
agreement in any case. The problem is one that may
best be left to those who are responsible for its existence.
While I was staying at Lenakil I happened to see
a particularly impressive sample of the work done
in Tanna by British-made and British-sold bullets.
Away in the hills a woman had been badly shot, not
by accident, as one might suppose; men, women, and
children are all the same to the Tannaman on murder
bent. My host, the medical missionary of the district,
was visiting the bush villages in that part, and decided
to take the chance of bringing the woman down to
his hospital, as it was certain that she would die where
she was. She was tied on a stretcher, and carried by
the natives over nine miles of almost pathless mountain,
bush, and gully, afterward journeying twenty miles
in an open boat. Next day the doctor decided to oper-
ate, and when half-way through his work sent for me to
come in and see the case, as it was rather singular.
2 54 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
I crossed over the sunny lawn to the hospital build-
ing, and entered the tiny white operating- ward. There
the woman lay on the table, her breast straining audibly
in the long mechanical heave of chloroformed respira-
tion, her deep-lashed eyes shut, her pretty little hands
hanging limp and lifeless over the table edge. She
was a young, attractive, very feminine-looking creature;
and the ghastly rift that disfigured her delicate side
seemed all the more anomalous and horrible. No modern
Mauser or Lee-Metford bullet could have inflicted such
a wound; only a shell could have paralleled it. Three
ribs were splintered, and two of them driven into the
lung, wounding it seriously. The liver had been rup-
tured by the shock of the bullet, and protruded through
the opening, a ghastly, gangrenous mass. She had
already lived ten days in this terrible state, so there was
a faint chance that she might survive, but the doctor
had not very much hope.
As no assistance was needed, I left the doctor and
his wife and native helper to their work, and came
out in the sunshine again, hearing still the laboured
heave of the struggling lungs, and seeing the poor pretty
girl upon the table, torn with such wounds as only a
soldier should ever have to face, and that for the safety
of his country alone. I thought of one other woman up
in the hills, who had died not long before, after living
more than a week with all her face shot away; of the
many men going about with crippled and shattered limbs ;
of the twenty corpses, some buried, some eaten, that had
been living human creatures only a few weeks before ; of
the reign of terror in the bush villages, and the "peril
that walked in darkness," night by night, the island
through. And I wished, most earnestly, that I could
see the strong hand of Great Britain or her Colonies
HOT TIMES IN TANNA 255
grasp the bridle of this wretched country, as unfit to be
left to its own guidance as any runaway horse, and
pull it firmly and determinedly into the road of civil-
isation and law-abiding peace. The missionaries have
done what they can; but the hand of a strong gov-
ernment could do very much more. Disarmed by
force, as the Solomons have been, held in check
by able police and magistrates, like the Fiji Islands,
the New Hebrides could in time be made a useful and
valuable country, populated by industrious, peaceful
natives. As things are, however, there is little hope.
Australia, to whom the islands should rightly look for
their preservation, will have none of them. France —
conspicuously unsuccessful with every Pacific colony
she has ever owned — is anxious to take them, rightly
or wrongly. Great Britain will not let either have
them, and will not take them herself. So the tangle
drags on, and the reign of terror continues unabated.
CHAPTER XV
TANNA— ITS SCENERY AND RESOURCES
Somebody s Picnic — The Simple Life in Tanna — The
Returned Labour Trouble — Up the Great Volcano —
The Valley of Fire
AFTER a stay of a week or two at Lenakil, I rode
over to Whitesands, some twenty miles away, on the
other side of the island, to see the volcano. The track
lay through the bush and over a chain of hills, and crossed
most of the fighting country. I took a native guide,
who could speak a little English, and started early
in the morning. Bush fires, mostly of malicious origin,
had been extremely prevalent during the past few
weeks, and I was rather uneasy to see half-burned
trees and smoking ashy slopes on our left as we passed
up a precipitous gully.
"What shall we do if bush fire come along, Simoni?"
I asked, vaguely recollecting "adventure" tales I
had read long ago, in which Australian and American
people, threatened by fires, had set fire themselves
to something or other, which somehow burned, and
protected them from the other fire — I did not exactly
remember how.
"Not do nothing," said Simoni cheerfully. "Cook
all-a same pig!"
I was quite sure that this was not the last possible
word on the matter, and I rather wished I could conjure
an Australian out of the banyan trunks in front;
257
258 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
because, according to the books, Australians are always
equal to dealing with fires and floods, and runaway
herds of cattle, and anything else that may occur upon
the King's highway to agitate a sensitive female, and
cause her to wish herself safe inside a Pullman car
with the blinds down. It was true that all the Aus-
tralians I had happened to see in their native lairs
had been engaged in buying and selling more or less
"alleged" gold-mines, inside a palatial office; writing
leading articles at dignified leather desks, or discussing
the virtues of different brands of wine, under' the glow
of shaded electric lamps, at a luxurious dinner-table.
This did not shake my faith, however, because I knew
that they were merely playing at that kind of thing,
and that they all had gone, or would go, or would like
to go, ranching and clearing and bush-whacking (I
do not know the correct translation of the latter word,
but it sounds satisfying, somehow), at the first oppor-
tunity. If not, the books must be wrong, which is
absurd, because nothing British is ever wrong; and
therefore, if an Australian — any Australian — ^had dropped
from heaven at that moment, he would, like "Epps's
cocoa," have been extremely grateful and comforting.
Q. E. D.
As it turned out, there were no more bush fires, and
I forgot all about them in half an hour, since it became
necessary to take my horse out for a walk on a string,
like a pet spaniel, every now and then, for half an hour
or so, during which time I scrambled like a cockroach
(only without its invaluable complement of extra legs)
up and down places that were never meant for the passage
of anything unprovided with wings. On a fine windy
tableland, some 800 feet high, we came to a halt at last,
and Simoni got out the lunch sack, and there was billy.
iA^N.NEjK (.rlRL LLl.\iiu.\w A li'LL'AM i rALJi
TANNA— SCENERY AND RESOURCES 259
tea, and bread and sardines thereto, and much refresh-
ment. There was a magnificent view from this point —
almost all of Tanna lying like a bright-green map under
our feet, with the great volcano standing up by itself
in the middle of a gray level plain, and the islands of
Aniwa and Erromanga floating on the blue horizon, far
away. And there was a pleasant little grove of trees to
break the force of the beating sun, and more than one
soft bank of bullock-grass to sit on, and rest. ... A
very pleasant place for lunch, it semed to me.
I did not know. . . . but that comes by-and-by.
More cockroach scrambling, down outrageous heights,
with the horse doing the chute business behind me as
if he had been brought up in a circus; more glaring
sun; more choking, drought-bred dust rising in clouds —
and now, half-way down to the plain, a sudden sound
arrests me. It is rather like thunder, but it is not
thunder; it suggests an earthquake, but the palm-tree
plumes are steady against the burning sky. It is, perhaps,
most of all like the low, threatening growl of a vicious dog,
magnified a million times ; but it does not really resemble
any sound I have ever heard before in my life.
Simoni points triumphantly to the smoking cone
some eight miles away.
"That the fire place; hear um sing out!" he says.
"By-n-by, hear um plenty smell!"
We are just beginning to "hear um smell," a mile
or two further on, upon a windy plain distinctly per-
fumed with sulphurous odours, when Simoni — suddenly
overcome by reminiscences that, like the flowers of
spring, "have nothing do do with the case" — bursts
out laughing.
"You savvy that-fellow place you eat 'um dinner?"
he asks chucklingly.
26o FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
"Yes; what about it?"
"All same place, Tannaman he eat woman, leg you
got in one-fellow box; two, three, four week!" Simoni
cackles explosively.
This requires explanation. Some little while before
a native woman had been eaten by the tribes above
Lenakil, and the missionary, I do not know how, had
obtained possession of some of the relics of the victim.
He had given me a thigh-bone, which I wanted to keep
as a memento of Tanna — rather a ghastly souvenir, it
must be confessed — and this bone I had packed away in
my box. Simoni knew all about it, and had prepared
the little surprise about the picnic-ground as a good
joke. . . . Now I came to think of it, it was certainly
he who selected the stopping-place. . . .A nice spot
for a picnic, truly.
There were very few natives about here, and those
we met seemed to be exceedingly alarmed, I really do
not know why, unless it was at the horse, since they are
still very unfamiliar with horses in Tanna. One or two
ran howling up the nearest palm-tree when they saw me,
and continued to climb, looking down and howling cease-
lessly, until I was well out of the way. It was evident
that they were not at all sure I could not, and would not,
ride up after them!
After the field of the cannibal feast was left behind,
and the view of the volcano had disappeared in a jumble
of trees, we went on and on for a good many miles through
a pleasant up-and-down valley, the path a mere crack
in the thickness of the bush as a rule, but now and then
showing the loveliest glimpses of distant green — blue-
green, smoke-green, gold-green — always green, and always
foliage, tight-packed as a pin-cushion. There seemed
to be nothing left on earth but tree-trunks and tree-tops.
TANNA— SCENERY AND RESOURCES 261
The ravaging hand of the utihtarian white man has not
so much as scratched Tanna as yet. If you want to go
to any place where the natives do not naturally go, you
will have to do it as Stanley did the forests of Central
Africa — with an axe and unlimited patience, at a couple
of miles a day — and your road will close up behind you
almost as fast as you make it.
It was hot, with the soaking, head-hammering heat
of the New Hebrides in December; but there were cer-
tain alleviations on the way. Not to speak of the price-
less green cocoanut, heaven's best gift to travellers in the
tropics, there were rose-apples in rare places, all waxy-
pink without and waxy-white within, and delicately
flavoured with otto-of-rose. And here were fat sticky
little figs, and great yellow clusters of tree-melons,
miscalled mummy-apples, and somebody's pine-apples
— he will never miss what I stole — and odd, nameless
orange-coloured capsules, enclosing sweet red seeds. I
stopped to levy tribute as we went along, because, if
one has got to work between meals (an unwholesome
habit at best), it is as well to make the meals as many
as possible.
It was a journey to break the heart of any one con-
nected with the copra trade. I wished that I had had
someone from a soap-making firm with me, to enjoy
his agonies at the sight of the wasted shiploads that
cumbered the ground in every direction. This part of
Tanna is a veritable gold-mine of copra. For miles
and miles of untouched forest the cocoanuts spread their
rustling fans to the hot sky; the pillared trunks stand
thick as cornstalks in a field; the huge brown nuts lie
scattered in rotting heaps, sending out feeble little shoots
that are certain to die ere long for want of air and sun.
Where the well-worn bush tracks cut through the
262 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
forest the Tannaman sometimes bestirs himself so far
as to collect a few nuts from the edges of the path, and
split and dry them, so that he may be able to buy tobacco
from the trader, and a knife, and beads for his women,
and a leather belt and pouch, and huge blunt-nosed
cartridges for the old Tower rifle that he uses to settle
his disputes with the next-door neighbour. But any-
thing more than this he will not trouble to do. What
is it to him that the earth for miles is rotten with white
nut-meat that could be transmuted into every luxury
of civilisation? He does not want clothes — he informs
the inquiring traveller, with beautiful candour, that
there is nothing wrong or deformed about him, to be
covered up, and that he would die with shame to be seen
in a shirt or a sulu ! He has no wish for a wooden house
with a tin roof, when he can exist happily in a pig-pen
that consists simply of a roof and nothing else. Why
(he asks) bother with walls and posts when you can lay
your roof right on Mother Earth, and thereby reduce all
the problems of housing to one simple common denomina-
tor (or words to that effect) ? Tinned meat and " samani"
are good, but they may be too dearly bought, and, besides,
in Tanna there are occasional "excellent substitutes
for the more expensive article," of which the coy bush-
man does not care to discourse. No, on the whole, the
Tannaman prefers to leave his "magnificent, natural
resources" undeveloped, and thank you kindly, sir.
He will not let you take a hand in the business either.
He has grown suspicious of white men and their motives
of late years, and although the letting of his land may
be all for his good, "Tommy Tanna" says, in effect, that
he does not care a bad word about his good, and will be
obliged to you to keep your fingers out of his cocoanut
pie, and return to the arms of the steamer company, for
TANNA— SCENERY AND RESOURCES 263
he does not want you, or the Hke of you, to play in his
backyard. ... So the copra country goes to waste
and the very few traders who still maintain a footing in
Tanna do not find that the seams of their garments need
frequent letting out. And the Tannaman shoots his
neighbour frequently, and eats of him frugally now and
then ; and under his dirty roof- tree lives the " simple life "
with his simple pigs and wives undisturbed.
Everything comes to an end, even a bush ride, with
walking obligato (which means walking when you are
obliged) across Tanna; and at last, having ridden "from
sea to sea," I and my guide (it is not grammar, but racial
pride is above grammar any day — and the guide was
black) arrived at the hospitable mission station in
Whitesands Bay, where I had been asked to stay a week
or two.
Mission stations, in the New Hebrides, occupy much
the same position as the monastery of the Middle Ages
did in England. They are almost the only centres of
light and learning in the midst of surrounding darkness;
the inhabitants act as guides and governors to all the
neighbourhood, and their hospitality is the traveller's
only refuge from camping with the land-crabs and mos-
quitoes on the "coral strand."
Like the ancient monastery, also, they are very com-
fortable places indeed, full of good cheer and simple
luxury, and the traveller who experiences their generous
hospitality may be very sure that he will be well treated.
There will be a big, cool house, with a good veranda and
handsome imported furniture; there will be a flock of
goats, a sheep or two, to provide milk and meat; there
will be another flock of servants, black but willing;
horses, boats, shower-baths, pretty drawing-rooms, bright
flower gardens — all in the midst of a wilderness of savages
264 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
and cannibals, and dirty, miserable native villages.
Truly, an oasis in the desert is a New Hebridean mission-
house.
Sulphur Bay was peaceful enough while I was there,
but so much could hardly be said for the mountain
interior. Only a few days after my arrival the word
went forth from the chiefs of the hill country that they
did not choose the white man should cross the island,
and that the path I had lately come by was to be closed
by a "taboo." It was also reported that bullets had
been flying on the said path, and that a native had nearly
been hit.
My missionary host thereupon arose, and said that
such things could not be tolerated, and that he would
go up into the hills and see about it. I petitioned to go
too, and was allowed. We started off in the early morn-
ing afoot, as the tracks were too bad for a horse. We
tramped thirteen miles, with perhaps half a mile of level
ground in the lot, and had intended to tramp almost
as much more, only that the chiefs happened to be down
from their towns that day, and information was to be
had more cheaply by questioning one of them on the
spot.
It was not very satisfactory. We were told that
the proclamation was really a mistake — ^that no one
wanted to do anyone any harm, and that nothing had
happened. Questioned further, the men of the moun-
tain allowed that they didn't want a certain tribe to use
that path, because the said tribe was at war w4th them-
selves. They might have said something — there might
have been a bullet or so — but there was no harm
meant. ... It seemed a hollow explanation; but
it was all we could get.
To my mind it was suggestive, and not pleasantly
TANNA— SCENERY AND RESOURCES 265
so. Tanna is getting out of hand; straws show the
way the wind is beginning to blow in more than one
quarter. The bush tribes are absolutely reckless as
to the destruction of white men's property when they
start out to burn each other's gardens or villages —
with the consequences that I mentioned earlier. They
are also quite careless as to any danger that may result
to white people from their very free shooting. It is
only the small number of the whites in Tanna that
have, so far, prevented the occurrence of any accident
from this cause. Bush tribes who are at war will
carry on their little disputes, Tanna fashion, by means
of separate murders, right round the mission-houses
and trading-stations, so that one never knows, when
staying in the island, whether a stray shot that sounds
through the cool sunset air, as one sits drinking after-
dinner coffee on the veranda, means a flying-fox justly
executed for orange-stealing or a murdered human
being.
"Tommy Tanna," furthermore, as he comes home
from Queensland, makes more and more trouble in
the island. The Queensland Tannaman is notoriously
the worst sort in Tanna, always at the head of tribal
fights, usually among those most strongly opposed to
the mission, and generally disposed to make as much
trouble as possible. The reason is simple enough.
He has been years away, his land is overgrown, his
painfully amassed pigs are eaten, his house is a ruin,
his yam plantations desolate — if, indeed, some greedy
neighbour has not actually annexed all his property.
The money he brought from Queensland is squandered
in a day, native fashion, and the Tannaman becomes
a poverty-stricken wanderer, full of restlessness and
discontent, and finding no outlet save that of making
266 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
trouble. Therefore he makes it, industriously, as a
profession and a sport at the same time; and the
island, in consequence, seethes with discontent and
disquiet.
With Tommy Tanna of Queensland — full of civilisa-
tion's vices, sharper and more knowing than his fellows,
yet a savage to the tips of his fingers — ^joins in the
conservative party of the island, the older chiefs, who
hate the white man and all his doings, and the younger
and more savage savages, who are beginning to take
alarm at the increasing power of the missions. For
two generations the missionaries did almost nothing
in Tanna. Now their work is beginning to take effect
and converts are coming in. This is alarming and
angering the opposition; and, backed up by the Queens-
lander Tannese, they are beginning to talk in an unpleas-
antly significant way. The Queensland labourer has,
after all, learned something during his foreign travels;
and the cry that he is now spreading about the island
is: "Tanna for the Tannese!"
" If the white man won't have us in his countr}^
we won't have him in otirs," declare the Tannamen.
And they are not talking idlv.
There is but a handful of whites in Tanna — not
much more than a dozen all told. It is hard for the
Tannamen to believe that these few white men and
women have the power of a great Empire at their back,
especially as no reason has been given them of late
years to realise this fact. The late punitive expedition
to Malekula created a smaller effect in Tanna than in
any other part of the New Hebridean group, for Tanna
lies far south, and its inhabitants are a different folk
altogether to the Malekulans — ^braver, bigger, more
warlike, and decidedly more intelligent. They will
TANNA— SCENERY AND RESOURCES 267
make a fine people when they are tamed. But at
present, the taming seems rather the other way
round.
Tanna's great volcano, famous as it is, has been very
seldom visited. The Sydney boat touches at Sulphur
Bay, or near it, twice every month, going and coming;
but tourists are rare birds in the islands, and even when
one or two do venture to brave the fevers and the can-
nibals (neither of which are nearly so black as painted),
there is very seldom time for an ascent of the cone.
Besides, when there is time, the tourist is quite
sure that he will be shot or eaten, or both, if he ventures
into the interior. There is always an ugly report
of murders (native) ready for every steamer, and the
inhabitants of the island, coming down on the beach
in warpaint, feathers, and full armament of rifle, car-
tridges, and bow and arrows, do not tend to allay any
nervousness that the traveller may feel. So there are
very few excursions up Tanna's fiery cone; except for
those indulged in by the men-of-war officers, who usually
"do" the volcano as a duty if their ship happens to cast
anchor in the neighbourhood.
Things, however, are not exactly what they seem
in Tanna. If they had been, one may be sure my
kindly hosts of the mission would not have despatched
me alone with a couple of pigeon-English-speaking
native guides to ascend the mountain, and see what
was to be seen. As to the cone of the volcano itself,
one might safely assure the most nervous old lady
who ever screamed at a mouse, that not a single heathen
Tannaman wotild venture to set foot on the spot. The
Tannese have a deadly horror of the place, and only a
civilised mission native will venture to approach it.
268 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
The climb is not a long one. I was not able to
ascertain the exact height of the mountain, but it is
generally supposed to be just under 2,000 feet, and this
certainly seemed about correct. My "boys" and I
started from the mission late in the afternoon, as I
wanted to see the crater after dusk. I took things
easily, and found that one could reach the mountain
and get to the top in an hour and a half without much
exertion.
We walked along the usual foot-wide bush track
for a mile or two, passing through a couple of "mission"
villages, where the people were clothed in bright pink
and scarlet cottons, and had fairly decent houses; and
meeting on the way an occasional wild "bushie," dressed
in nothing at all, or in a sort of upholstery fringe of
dried grass, according to sex. The women sometimes
carried a pet pig, a tiny squeaker no larger than a cat,
which they seemed extremely attached to, as a rule, and
conveyed about under one arm, for all the world like
a fashionable lady's lap-dog.
The boys, of course, kept up the maddening native
pace that looks so slow and easy, and in reality is so
hard to follow — a relentless, long, elastic, wolf-like
stride, that never slacks or alters up hill or down, that
comes of an ancestry unhampered by clothing, and
a life spent afoot on rough, hilly tracks, and that is
bound to wear out anyone but a very strong white
man in excellent training, if one gives in to its apparent
slowness and struggles to keep up. I did not, having
long since learned that pride of this kind may be too
dearly bought in a feverish, tropical climate. I simply
screamed at them to go slow, and kept on screaming
at appropriate intervals, until I reduced them to my
moderate three miles an hour, and made them stav
TANNA— SCENERY AND RESOURCES 269
there. Other travellers may find the hint useful.
The tangled bush-palm and pandanus matted together
at the roots with purple-flowered shrubs and trailing
pink convolvulus, and linked aloft by closely knitted
lianas, thinned out by-and-by, and began to display
a flooring of fine black sand. Then the trees ended
abruptly, and we were out on a barren, desolate plain,
painted crimson, buff, and yellow, curdled and coiled
like the scum on boiling milk, and looking as hot and
molten as though the wicked black cone in the centre
had only this morning cast it forth. Yet these lava
beds were old and time-worn, and where they did not
clink like metal under foot, were half crumbled into
rottenness. It is a long, long time — ^no one knows
just when, since the volcano erupted seriously, though
small outbursts are of constant occurrence. Still, it
is by no means a force to be despised. The mission-
house, several miles away, is often shaken by small
earthquakes that throw down the furniture and break
the china ; and even when the mountain is at its quietest,
in periods of long drought (the connection is not under-
stood, but drought generally means reduced activity),
the throb and gi*umble of its crater can be felt over almost
all the island.
After the lava beds are crossed, a plain of black
sand, level as a lake, lies before us, and right in the
centre, sinister and threatening, and grim, towers the
800-feet-high cone. A heavy cloud of smoke hides
the apex; from rents and fissures in the steep, black
sides rush jets of sulphurous steam. It is steep, but
the climb seems short and easy, looking across the
plain — one would imagine that ten minutes should
place the climber on the invisible crest.
Alas! I have climbed volcanoes before, and I know
270 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
those delusive cones. In ten minutes the men and
myself are slipping, slithering, straining, and scrambling
mid-leg deep in black ash, just on the beginning of the
rise. Every step is half lost before it is well gained;
we dig our fingers into the tepid ashes, and clutch at
lumps of slag sticking out above our heads; find them
give way, and narrowly escape rolling down into sul-
phurous, steaming cracks that will certainly show
red-hot after dusk. In twenty minutes we are only
about half-way up, but the worst is over, and our toes
are no longer turned upward at an acute angle to our
shins. We can see a valley on the other side of the
cone now — a demoniac little place, full of sulphurous
smoke-holes and ugly cracks; not the sort of spot in
which to take a walk for pleasure. There will be a
big outbreak there some of these days.
Up, still up! and now the sky-line in front of us is
sharp and near, and darkly outlined against a livid
cloud of smoke. We are almost there. One of the
men has been here before; the other has not, but we
are all equally eager, and we fairly run the last few
steps of the rise, up to the very verge of the pit, where
we stand flapping and shaking in a tearing wind, high
above the blue sea and the circled green horizon, right
on the volcano's fiery brink.
It is just a little disappointing at first. One had
expected a sea of fire, a welter of flame — though warned
beforehand that the mountain was sulking, and not
at its best — and here, when the stifling sulphur-gusts
roll far enough to leeward to show the interior, is but
a great black pit, with a red crack across the middle,
and a red fire-fountain jetting up drops of blood aw^ay
in the bottom. And after all, is it so very large?
But suddenly, without any warning, as I stand on
TANNA-SCENERY AND RESOURCES 271
the edge looking over, and feeling rather giddy, without
understanding why the scale of the place bursts upon
me. I realise what I am looking at. The sky-line
of the crater shuts out so much of the surrounding
world that there is nothing to compare with — ^but
somehow the "values" explain themselves all in a
second, and the crater expands like a bursting red
flower, while I, deprived of my lawful sixty-nine inches
and comfortable self-complacency, stand like a wretched
little insect, a speck that does not count, on the verge
of utter immensity. ... It was merely my eyes,
accustomed to things of moderate size, that were in
fault, not the crater. Eight hundred feet is the drop
from where I am standing to the sulphurous gorges
and canyons beneath; half a mile at the least is the
distance from lip to lip of the great black cup. And
as for the powers that sleep below. . . . I did not
mean to do it. I thought I had developed some nerve
during the course of some months' solitary wanderings
about the wild New Hebrides. I thought I could
face a noise without losing head and presence of mind.
But the fire-fountain jmnped a hundred feet higher
into the air, and the crater, like a w41d and wicked
brute when you put your head into its den, suddenly
bellowed right into my face w^th the voice of a dozen
tropic thunderstorms and a thousand angry bulls,
coupled to something that was entirely volcanic and
indescribable — something that turned one's spine to
an ill-set jelly, and made one mysteriously understand
the motions of the star-fish that jerks off its arms and
legs when suddenly terrified. I wanted to jerk off
mine, but instead, I found myself running down the
side of the cone hand-in-hand with two extremely
frightened niggers, without an idea as to how I got
2 72 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
there, or where I was going. It was not courage, for
I had none left, but pride of race, that stopped me
half a dozen yards below the crater lip. White people
must not be frightened before blacks. So I went back
and sat on the edge again — ^because the rush of hot wind
from below, and the extreme straightness of the 800-
feet-drop, inclined one to giddiness — and looked down
again. By-and-by it bellowed a second time, and the
very heavens shook, while the caky crumbled edge
I sat on trembled heart-shakingly. But I wanted
to see this time, so I looked down, still feeling very
much like the star-fish, without its happy means of
relief.
It was all over in a few seconds. The fire-fountain
rose half-way up the crater sides, and tossed a few glow-
ing lumps of lava into the air. They did not reach within
a hundred feet of the rim, but it was rather anxious
work, seeing how far they meant to go. The red crack
glowed scarlet; and from the dark wolf -mouth away
down at the bottom of all things, burst once and again
that terrifying bellow. It was impossible not to feel
that there was something alive — alive and powerful and
infinitely wicked — about the place. It was impossible
not to read anger and menace in the tones of that awful
thunder- voice. It was the voice of Nature herself —
but
"Nature red in tooth and claw
With ravine."
Nature, pitiless, avenging and cruel. The Nature
of floods and earthquakes, hurricanes, simoons and
fire. The Nature that sweeps man relentlessly from
her path in her anger, and blots out a countryside ot
crawling human folk in a single hour. If any man
says that he can look down the throat of such a devil's
TANNA— SCENERY AND RESOURCES 273
pit as this without emotion, and hear it speak without
fear, I think that man must he.
For more than an hour I stayed on the summit,
watching the crater with a fascinated fear that seemed
to expunge both time and fatigue. As the sun went
down in the glassy blue sea, and the sky began to darken,
the whole of the great pit was slowly lit up from below
as by some infernal illumination. The gray plateaux of
lava turned pink, and became spotted with holes of fire.
The huge canyon darted flames invisible in the daylight;
the fire-fountain glowed like molten brass. And every
now and then, as if the current of the light were being
turned on below by a giant hand, the whole crater slowly
brightened and glowed, and the canopy of dull-red vapour
hanging above it grew scarlet. At such times, from the
other side (an untenable position, by reason of the
choking sulphur smoke), there must have been a mar-
vellous view of a fiery valley, of which I could only see
the overhanging tableland. ... I never longed for
anything so much as I longed to see into that invisible
and unattainable gorge of flame.
And over all, above the jettings of the fire-fountain and
the booming of the crater-throat, rose, silent, still, and
pure, the dark-blue heaven and the eternal stars. . . .
If one could write the thoughts that come in such hours
and places, one would "speak with the tongues of men
and angels," and say that which cannot be said. But
through the iron bars of human speech, the human
soul can look forth but a very little way.
The wind on the summit was bitter cold, but the
cinders of the cone on which we stood were so warm
that the hand could not bear the heat five or six inches
below the surface.
It would have been quite possible for me to find a
274 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
spot in the lee of a hillock, scratch out a very warm
nest among the ashes, and spend the night there, and
see the sun rise, sending the men on to explain my
absence. But ... we had eaten all our food, and
there was no water left. And one gets desperately
thirsty watching a sulphurous crater in full blast. And
the thought of the lemons and cool tank-water down
at the mission proved too much, so I went down without
spending the night, and regretted it long after.
The touch of comedy that always follows close on
the heels of tragedy in "the islands" was not wanting
here. When the two Tannese guides had finished
running away (which they did at every explosion,
until they were tired out), and, clinging close together,
had ventured to look down into the crater, I listened
with considerable interest to hear what form the
untutored savages' expression would take at the sight of
this most colossal of Nature's wonders.
One untutored savage looked down at the fiery
valley below, and then drew back, remarking calmly
"All same calico!" (It is necessary to explain that
the Tannaman always buys red cotton.) The other
rose more fully to the occasion. He looked over like-
wise, drew back, and remarked very gravely: "All
same hell!"
A few nights afterward, lying off the island in the
Malaita, I could see the crimson cloud hovering high
above the black cone, blotting out half the crystal
stars. Every now and then, as before, the crimson
brightened into pure red gold, and then faded again.
And from time to time, the cloud-cap trembled and
the hollow arch of midnight sky resounded with the
booming roar of the great volcano's voice. So Captain
Cook found this southward sentinel of the New Hebrides,
BUSHMEX COMING TO SEP: A \\)!l 11. riULD
KKUMAXGA
TANNA— SCENERY AND RESOURCES 275
more than a hundred years ago. So we found it, and
left it, eternal and unchanged, and sailed southward
with the dawn, away from the islands.
About Erromanga, the "Martyr Isle," there are a
good many misconceptions. The murders of five of
the early missionaries on this island, including the
celebrated John Williams, have fixed an idea in the
public mind that Erromanga is the home of fierce sav-
ages, and almost uncivilised. On the contrary, it now
shares with Aneityum the honour of being the most
completely civilised and Christianised island in the
group. The last murder took place thirty-four years
ago ; and the islanders are now as peaceable and amiable
a set of people as can be found under the Southern
Cross. Much of the island is given up to sheep-farming,
the soil and grass being excellent. It was rather a
disappointment that the steamer only paused at Erro-
manga to land a passenger, and did not wait at all, so
that no visits could be made. But that is one of the
difficulties of seeing the New Hebrides. Without a
private yacht, at least six months w^ould be needed to
see all the important islands, unless one chose to be
satisfied with a single morning or afternoon's survey
of each.
The same difficulty tantalised one at pretty little
Aneityum — a month, or nothing. But after all, the
Aneityumese are civilised out of all interest.
It is very gratifying, from a moral point of view,
to see the clean, tidy, school-attending, prosaically
peaceful folk that have replaced the original savage;
but to the traveller, original savages are a good deal
more interesting.
Ambrym, with its great volcano — which takes several
days to visit — and the nimiber of heathens it still
276 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
possesses, was much more tempting, especially when one
heard that many strange native customs survive here,
among them the law which compels a woman who
meets a man to kneel down and crawl past him on all
fours! The Ambrym mission hospital has had many
cases of housemaid's knee to treat, owing to this peculiar
form of showing respect to the "lords of creation."
And as for Santo, with its savage people, its strange relics
of sixteenth-century Spanish history, and its reported
ruined city — relic of De Quiros and his " New Jerusalem"
— one would make a trip to the islands for the sake of
exploring it alone, if time allowed. But time, which
in one sense does not exist in the New Hebrides, is, in
another, the greatest barrier between the group and the
outer world. To see all the islands, you must have time
to spare, time to bum, time to throw away — an iron
constitution, unlimited patience, and plenty of money
as well ; but above all things, time. And the few months
that I was able to amass to spend on the New Hebrides
were not by any means enough. So Santo and Ambrym
went by the board; Erromanga was passed by, and
Pentecost, Aoba, Maewo, and Aurora not even looked
at. It was a pity — ^but I was not an exploring expe-
dition, worse luck.
At present the islands are in a state of paralysis,
so far as British enterprise is concerned, on account of
the duties already discussed. Nothing can be hoped
until these are removed. But if, or when, they are,
there is certainly a field for enterprise in the New Hebrides.
Almost any tropical product will grow, and grow well,
and Erromanga has a future before it for sheep-farming
on a moderate scale. Malekula is of little or no value
to the settler, being almost all mountainous bush of the
densest kind ; but many of the smaller islands could be
TANNA— SCENERY AND RESOURCES 277
used profitably if there were only a market for their
products.
Island fever is a matter of the greatest possible
interest to all settlers and travellers. It may be said at
once that the dangers of New Hebridean fever have
been greatly exaggerated. Many people appear to
suppose that the islands are ravaged by dread diseases
resembling blackwater, yellow and typhus fevers, which
lay hold of the newcomer without warning, and kill
him off in a few days. This is, of course, absurd. Malaria
there is in the New Hebrides; plenty of it, too, and almost
everyone suffers from it more or less. But malaria only
kills indirectly, by means of gradual weakening of the
constitution; and if good food is eaten, and common
precaution as to health observed, it may be, and often is,
escaped.
CHAPTER XVI
NORFOLK ISLAND— GOOD-BYE
The Story of Norfolk Island — A Woman in the Case — The
Fate of the Mutineers — In the New Home — A Valley
of Peace — Good-bye
ON THE way to the New Hebrides lies an island of
which mention cannot be omitted, in describing
this part of the Pacific. It is a British possession, six
miles by three, lying a thousand miles northeast of Sydney;
it has a population of about eight hundred half-castes,
and a hundred whites; and it was for many years noto-
rious to the civilised world as the worst plague-spot
in the whole plague-smitten system of colonial trans-
portation.
To-day, Norfolk Island is the most peaceful, sunny,
and happy spot under the Southern Cross. Lovely
almost beyond description it always was, but in the old,
bad, convict days, its loveliness, if felt at all, was felt
only as a mockery of the wretched imprisoned lives
that dragged themselves slowly there to a miserable
end, or — more fortunate, as they counted it — were
swung quickly out of life some morning, on the arm of
the never-sated gallows-tree —
Anywhere, anywhere, out of the world!
How the change came about, is a long story — so
far forgotten by the world in general, that one may well
risk telling it again.
279
28o FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
It begins where most stories begin — with a woman,
or, in this case, with several.
The women were Tahitians, and beautiful, and the
men were British sailors belonging to the man-of-war
Bounty. The year was 1789, and the Bounty, after a
long stay, was leaving Tahiti, where she had been col-
lecting bread-fruit trees to take to the British West
Indies. The sailors did not want to leave the lovely
island, and especially the lovely women. Jack Tar's
life was a bitter hard one, in those Eighteenth-Century
days. He was as often as not a pressed man, who had
never wanted to enter the navy at all; he was ill-fed
and roughly treated, and savagely punished for the
smallest fault; and he was often kept away from home
and friends for the greater part of his life. Small won-
der that Tahiti, with its fairy-like beauty of green waving
palm and violet mountain peak, of still lagoon and sunny
coral shore, its days ever warm, and nights always soft
and starry, its rich fruits and flowers, kindly people, and
indolent, dreamy existence, should have seemed to these
hard-bitten sailors, weary of discipline and work, a very
heaven on earth. . . . Commander Bligh was hard
put to it to get them away, and the trouble was not ended,
long after the fascinating island had sunk below the
horizon, for the strings of discipline had been relaxed
beyond the captain's power of tightening, and the end
at last was mutiny. Bligh, with most of his officers
and a part of the crew, was set adrift in an open boat.
The story of his marvellous voyage across the Pacific, to
Timor in the Dutch East Indies, is one of the most stirring
of ocean romances, but with the story of Norfolk Island
it has nothing to do.
The mutineers, twenty-five in number, including the
lieutenant and a midshipman who had been practically
NORFOLK ISLAND— GOOD-BYE
2«I
forced into joining, now took the ship back to their
beloved Tahiti; and prepared to enjoy a lotus-eating
life for the remainder of their days. Certain of the men,
however, feared that the vengeance of the British Crown
might reach them in a spot so well known as Tahiti, even
though it was very far away. These, after endeavouring
in vain to convince the rest, went away from Tahiti,
taking a number of native men and women with them,
and left the others behind, This was a year after the
mutiny, and there were nine white men, counting Chris-
tian, the lieutenant, six Tahitian men, and twelve Tahi-
tian women, in the party that left Tahiti.
Their fears were justified later on, for of those who
remained behind, six were shortly after captured and
taken home for trial, and three were executed.
Meantime, Christian's party had found and settled
down upon an isolated island, which had been discovered
by Carteret in 1767, and named Pitcairn, after the mid-
shipman who first sighted it. It was uninhabited, but
fertile, and though only three miles by two, seemed able
to support a good-sized population. The mutineers set-
tled down here, secure from pursuit, and determined to
enjoy themselves to the full. No more hard work, no
more cruel captains, no bitter wintry seas, or scanty
salt fare, or lonely womanless lives for them. They had
their own country, and were kings of it. They had beauti-
ful wives, and need never leave them any more. They
had jolly comrades who had been over half the world with
them, to keep them company in a pipe or a yarn, and their
own pretty little homes were fast being built in the palmy
dells of the island, and their crops were in the ground ; and
in a few years' time there would be the merry ring of
childish voices, and light tread of little feet, round about
everv man's door. Was not this indeed a heaven on earth ?
282 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
Ten years passed by. It was 1800 now. The homes
still stood, the fertile ground bore richer harvests than
ever, the little feet of the children were many about the
green valleys of Pitcaim. But where were the parents
— the sailor fathers, the soft-eyed brown Tahitian mothers
— and where were the Tahitian men who had followed
their strange white friends away into exile?
Dead, all but one miserable, horror-struck, repentant
soul — the sailor Adams. He alone survived — he and
the innocent children. The ten years that had passed
had been ten years of drunkenness, debauchery, fighting
and murder. First, the men had found out the way
to make intoxicating spirits from the products of the
island. Then, they had set a-quarrelling about each
other's wives. Then murder had been done, and done
again, and some had died mad with drink, and others
had sunk from disease. And the end of it all was —
Adams left on the island, the guardian of the children —
alone.
The man had been piously brought up in his youth,
and old teachings returned to him now. He vowed to
make his life an expiation henceforth, and to bring up
the dead men's children honestly and well. The vow
was nobly fulfilled. When Adams died, some twenty
years later, he left the island a model of every Christian
virtue, inhabited by a people of remarkable innocence
and goodness, who knew nothing of the outside world,
but supported themselves entirely on the produce of
their island home, and reverenced their aged guide as
the best and wisest of men.
Adams was succeeded in his governorship by a
stranger, one Nobbs, who drifted up to the island in
1828, and being a worthy character, was not long in
gaining the confidence and affection of the people. The
NORFOLK ISLAND— GOOD-BYE 283
inhabitants of Pitcairn now increased rapidly; ships
called more frequently, and the world began to hear
about this strange little colony, and to take a romantic
interest in it. Then began a system of "lionising" the
descendants of the Bounty mutineers, that has continued,
in one way and another, ever since, and that has cer-
tainly not been for the good of the people. With pub-
licity came visits, gifts, patronage of various kinds,
and at last, in 1856, when the population, now near two
hundred, had almost outgrown the limits of the island,
came the handsomest present of all — ^beautiful, fertile
Norfolk Island, which the British Government offered
to the people of Pitcairn for their home.
The gift was gratefully accepted, and the Pitcairn
Islanders moved across the Pacific, in a ship specially
placed at their disposal, to their new possession. A few
returned shortly after, but the great majority stayed.
Norfolk Island, at that time, had been lying vacant
for some years. Discovered by Cook in 1774, it was
in 1826 taken into use as a prison of special severity for
the worst characters among the criminals transported
to Tasmania (**Van Dieman's Land").
The atrocities of the Norfolk Island convict system
have been made familiar to the world in Marcus Clarke's
terrible book, "For the Term of His Natural Life." The
judgment of history acquits that merciless indictment
of all exaggeration. Whatever the crimes of the prisoners
may have been — ^and in many cases they were great,
though in many again they were the most venial of
offences — the punishment which all alike endured, in
the hell of Norfolk Island, was savagely disproportioned
to the ill-doing that brought it about. The discipline
was so severe, and the labour so hard, that suicide was
actually epidemic at times. Convicts used to draw lots
284 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
for who should kill the other, thus releasing two miserable
prisoners — one by murder, and one by execution. On
the gallows that stood always ready before the prison
gates, men used to be led out by dozens at a time for
slaughter. The lash was busy at the triangles half the
day. Men were worked on the roads, and at clearing
labour, until their worn-out bodies gave way, and then
tortured almost to death, or quite, for breaking down.
Iron rings in the walls, to which the prisoners were
chained like beasts, are yet to be seen in the crumbling
ruins of the prison buildings. In the little, still, sunny
graveyard that lies far beyond the town, on the edge of
the lonely sea, there are many nameless convict graves
among the white stones that mark the tombs of those
who came after. . . . Honoured names at home,
it may be, some of them, long and long ago — before the
fatal cheque was signed, or the blow struck in
anger. . . . Outcast for ever after, forgotten of
man, and almost, it seemed, of God, driven to death,
and cast into an unnamed grave — here, "after life's
fitful fever, they sleep well" — under the shadow of the
singing Norfolk pines, while Nature, kindlier than man,
covers honoured and dishonoured graves alike with
tender leaf and flower.
The shadow of misery and crime has long since passed
away from the beautiful home of the Pitcairn people.
The convict station had been permanently removed
some years before their arrival, and the unoccupied
buildings — soldiers' barracks, storehouses, prison — ^were
converted by the new owners into churches, courthouse,
and schools. They found the island in such order as
never another island in the Pacific could show — the
whole surface of six miles by three as well cleared and
laid out as a gentleman's park in England; splendid
NORFOLK ISLAND— GOOD-BYE 285
roads and substantial bridges constructed, weeds and
poisonous plants cleared away, and only so much bush
left in out-of-the-way places as might serve to protect
the game. Free men, working as ordinary settlers work,
would not have done as much in a century as had been
done by the convicts in less than one generation. It was
slave labour, and it performed colossal results, as slave
labour has done since the days of the Pyramids onward —
not often, though, on British-owned soil, and in the
Victorian age of England.
The Bounty people, numbering 194, settled down
contentedly in their new home, and increased rapidly.
During the half -century that followed their occupation
of the island, the world heard a good deal about them
from time to time, in spite of the fact that the place was
visited only by stray whaling ships. Queen Victoria
was much interested in the people, and sent them gifts
of goods and clothing more than once. The sentimental
world of the sixties shed the tear of sensibility over their
innocence and virtue. They formed the text of many
a magazine sermon on the uselessness of riches, such as
was popular, and profitable, in the seventies and eighties.
Later on, whispers began to circulate in the colonial
press, suggesting that the innocence of Norfolk Island
was growing a little out at elbows; but the public fancy
would not be deprived of its toy so easily, and it was not
till a Commission appointed by the Government of New
South Wales reported unfavourably on the general con-
dition of affairs in the island, that people began to realise
the Norfolkers were only human. Quarrelling and
malicious outrages, it seemed, had become frequent, the
island council, which had always administered justice,
was ceasing to give satisfaction, and the morality of the
place left much to be desired. Under these circumstances
286 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
it was thought best to annex the place to the Government
of New South Wales, and this was accordingly done in
1902, with the consent of the people. Since then, a
resident magistrate from Australia has governed the
island, and law and order are firmly reestablished.
Captain Drake, R. N., and Mrs. Drake, are greatly loved
by the kindly islanders, and their occupation of Gov-
ernment House has been in every way for the good of
the people.
The Norfolk Islanders now number over eight hun-
dred, and there are about a hundred white immigrants
of various kinds, most of whom belong to the newly
established cable station. The islanders themselves have
intermarried with whites so little as not to count, and are,
therefore, still half-caste. The natural tendency is to
suppose that "they must be nearly white by this time."
Of course, this is not the case, as the half-caste children
of the Bounty sailors and the Tahitian women have been
intermarrying ever since, and the dark blood is still
there. There are only eight surnames among the eight
hundred people — they are all Adams, Nobbs, Fletchers,
Quintals, Buffets, M'Coys, Christians, and Youngs, all
related and re-related and intermarried in a manner that
no outsider could possibly disentangle. Everyone is
everyone else's cousin many times over, everybody
resembles everybody else to such an extent that the
newcomer never knows who his acquaintances are;
most people on the island live alike, think alike, talk
alike. There are some variations, however, mostly in
the degree of colour. Many of the islanders are as white,
save for exposure to the weather, as most English, and
others are no darker than Italians. Some, again, are as
coffee-brown as a full-blooded Tahitian. There are
different types of feature among them. I have seen a
CAPTAIN DRAKE, R. N.. AND MRS. DRAKE
GOVERNMENT HOUSE
GARDEN FENCE OF WHALES' RIBS WH \ l.k I I r,K
NORFOLK ISLAND— GOOD-BYE 287
Christian (descendant of the Bounty officer of that name),
who had the typical face of the well-born naval man, to
a line. He was barefoot, and wore rough dungarees,
could read and write, but nothing more, and was glad
of any small labouring job that put a penny in his pocket
for tobacco. . . . Christian, the lieutenant, involved
in the mutiny against his will, driven to brutality and
crime by despair, and scorched throughout his brief life
on Pitcairn by such a sense of burning degradation as
only a broken King's officer in like case could know,
begged at the last to have his grave concealed, and his
name forgotten. The world would find the refugees
some day, he knew, and he could not bear the thought of
his name, once honoured, going down to all the ages as
that of a traitor to his King. ... It was a wish
impossible to fulfil. The Eighteenth-Century officer
might turn in his grave to-day, if he could hear how
often the tale of the mutiny is told, and how proudly
his half-black descendants cling to every fragment of
property, each garbled tradition, left behind of the life
that he only wished to be forgotten in its unknown grave
for ever.
Among the women, many show traces of the beauty
that was the undoing of the Bounty men, long ago. Large
dark, shining eyes are common, with long soft hair,
pleasant features, and a singularly sweet smile. The
voices of all the islanders are remarkably low and musical.
They are the voices of those whose ancestors for many
generations have never known hurry or anxiety, of people
dwelling in "a land where it is always afternoon" — of a
gentle dreamy folk, living slow sweeet lives as changeless
as the empty sea that rings round their island home.
Music is a passion with almost every islander, and the
tendency shows in their curious half -singing speech.
288 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
They are a dreamy folk, too, and will lie motionless for
hours under the murmuring pines, looking at the sea —
just as the indolent amiable Tahitian lies to-day, on the
grassy shores of the road leading out from Papeete.
But the sailor blood shows too, and strongly. There
are no finer boatmen, no more daring whalers, in all
the Pacific, than these indolent dreamers, when the
mood for action is on them. Most of the small stock of
solid cash which they need for clothing, groceries and
other luxuries of civilisation, is obtained by the sale of
whale-oil. This is a smaller source of income than in
former times, since the price of whale-oil has gone down
considerably, but a good deal is still made in this way
during the season, which lasts from about May to October.
I was not fortunate enough to visit Norfolk Island
at that time, and so missed the exciting spectacle, which
is occasionally to be enjoyed, of huge whaleboats tearing
through the sea at the ^eed of an Atlantic liner, fast
to a furious whale. The chase is a dangerous one, but
those who have had an opportunity of joining in it say
that there is nothing else in the world of sport to com-
pare with it. And indeed, one can well imagine that the
biggest of big game shooting might seem tame beside it.
It is a fortunate thing, for the traveller who loves
quaint and unspoiled places, that the five days' passage
from Sydney (usually stormy), in a small steamer, keeps
the tourist world away from Norfolk Island. Only
a stray wanderer drifts up now and then, to seek for
health, perhaps, in the quiet island valleys, or to spend
a holiday away from the cruel heat of Australia. The
people are glad to take in a boarder, and to make a
little money for dress goods, sugar and tea, and they
are (like all Polynesian or semi-Polynesian races) the
soul of hospitality. If the absence of contact with the
NORFOLK ISLAND— GOOD-BYE 289
outer world has made them simple and somewhat narrow,
it has also preserved them entirely from things that are
worse than a limited outlook. Every Norfolker, bare-
foot, uneducated, and unversed in the ways of the world
of society though he may be, is nevertheless a gentleman
in all essentials. The quiet self-possession, the low
pleasant voice, the easy courtesy of the Norfolker to any
stranger, whether a globe-trotting peer, or a broken-
down sailor run away from his ship, can only be matched
elsewhere in what is known as "the very best" society.
There is not the first trace of a snob about him, and the
gnawing worm of social ambition never eats at the heart
of his sun- warmed apple of life. Norfolk Island has a
bishop, a number of clergy, a carefully graded set of cable
company officials, one or two unoccupied land-holders,
and various store-keepers, large and small, so that all
the materials for cliqueism in its worst form are there —
"instead of which" everyone in the island knows every-
one else on terms of complete equality, the shoeless
fisher-lad beats the bishop at tennis, and goes to tea with
him afterward, the pretty island girl who is parlour-maid
at Government House chats to the visitors as she waits
at lunch, and the distinguished stranger arriving at the
island will probably be asked to join the butcher's or
the carpenter's family in a picnic up Mount Pitt — and
will certainly enjoy it if he goes. Yes, the flavour of
story-book Arcadia has not deserted Norfolk yet, in
spite of governors and cable stations.
Every family has its own share of the land, and raises
its own crops of potatoes, kumara (sweet potato), Indian
corn, and fruit. There is plenty of land for all, and some
over. The whaling industry is carried out by the men
who are in the prime of life, and the proceeds divided
among the different families by a system of "companies."
290 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
So many families belong to A company, so many to B
company, and so on. The entire proceeds of the season's
whaling for each company are divided among all the
families supplying active members to the company. If
a woman's husband dies, she still continues to draw her
share from the company to which he belonged, for Nor-
folk Island is kind to widows. Every family has its own
cattle and horses, both of a good kind as a rule, and
fowls are very commonly kept. Fish abound round the
coasts, and fruit runs wild everywhere, and there are
fine pheasants in the bush, and a perfect plague of fat
quails. Thus, the island itself provides all that is neces-
sary to life, and the proceeds of the whaling, or of fruit
and onion farming, go to furnish the small superfluities
that even a Norfolk Islander likes to have.
They are a handy folk, and can turn their abilities
to any useful art. All the people build their own houses,
and there is not a house in the island (save one or two
stores), that does not show the best of natural taste.
The model is usually the same — a long, low, one-storeyed
building, constructed of pine boards "weathered" to a
delightful brownish gray; pine shingle roof, high and
pointed, and topped with a gay red ridge-pole; deep
veranda running all round the house, and a tangle of
vivid flowering creepers overrunning the whole building.
Round about it the stately Norfolk pines rear their
splendid heads a hundred feet into the blue, and you
shall see, almost to a certainty, a slip of level turquoise
sea, set gem-like somewhere among the velvet folds of
the green encompassing hills.
The most elaborate, and by many the most admired
buildings on the island, are those of the Church of Eng-
land Melanesian Mission. Norfolk Island has for many
years been the headquarters of this mission, w^hich has to
NORFOLK ISLAND— GOOD-BYE 291
do with the Solomons, and, in a lesser degree, with the
New Hebrides. It owns a very handsome church, which,
possesses, among other beauties, stained-glass windows
by Burne-Jones, and some very elaborate pearl-shell
inlay work done by Solomon Island converts. There
are usually several hundred Solomon Island natives in
the Church schools, being trained by a staff of missionary
workers for teaching in their ow^n islands. The English
missionaries stationed in the Solomons come down here
from time to time to change and recruit. The Norfolk
Islanders themselves are partly Church of England, and
partly Methodist.
Other objects of public interest in the island there
are none, save the crumbling ruins of some of the old
prisons, and a broken-down arch on one of the roads,
known as the "Bloody Bridge," from a desperate fight
that once took place there between the convicts and their
guards. Philip Island and Nepean Island, lying close to
the shore, are only interesting from a far-off scenic point
of view, and there is not a single show waterfall or a rock
with a fantastic name, or any place called anybody's
"Leap," in the whole island. For this relief, the too-
much-experienced traveller will offer ready thanks.
Yet there is much to see there, and plenty to do,
after the fashion of Norfolk Island, which is like no other
fashion in the world. . . . Shall I tell it all, and let
the world in general into the secrets of the prettiest and
quaintest little place on the globe? Shall I let them
know about the rich warm valleys where grapes run
wild in the trees, and the purple globes of the passion-
fruit are strung as close on their long green tendrils as
gems on a necklace, and gold guavas lie tumbled in the
grass like the eggs of some magic bird, and peaches,
that would bring a shilling each in Co vent Garden,
292 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
are left to rot on the ground, because there are so many
thousands that not even the pigs can finish them, and
oranges and lemons hang like lamps in the dark green
boughs, and bananas droop under hundred-weights of
yellow fruit, and red coffee-berries glisten in the low
bushes, and melons and strawberries run riot in the gar-
den land above? Shall I send the invalid of the cold
northern countries, and the burning southern continents,
looking after a climate that is one long sweet spring from
year to year, without great heat, without chill or frost
or hurricane or drought? Shall I tell of the exquisite
beauty of an island that is all one flawless gem from shore
to shore — that mimics delicately the best of summer
English landscapes, and sets them in a frame of tropic
sea, and hangs them about with beautiful alien fruits and
flowers, as with a garland? Shall I tell of the kindly
simple people, and the endless afternoons in some pine-
shaded house above the sounding sea, where a girl, with
eyes of the burning South set in a face of pale old ivory,
sits dreaming over a worn piano, and plays her dreams
as they arise, and the father of the house, sea-bronzed
and strong, tells wild unbelievable stories to the stranger
of perilous adventures on the whaling-grounds? Nights
when half the island is out a-dancing in each other's
houses — days and weeks when lawn tennis is the only
thought from dawn to dusk, and no one troubles about
the crops, or the current European war, or the rise and
fall of far-away kings, because there is matter more im-
portant afoot, in the fate of the Island Cup — half-days,
and hours, and nights, taken up in an ecstasy of violin
or harmonium or flute playing, with all the neighbours
in hearing distance leaving their work and coming in
to join — celebration days, when all the Bounty families
dress in man-of-war costume, men in full suits, girls in
TENNIS, XURIOLK ISLAND
GOVERNMENT HOUSE, NORFOLK ISLAND
NORFOLK ISLAND— GOOD-BYE 293
jumpers and white skirts, and commemorate the day
when their forefathers landed on Pitcaim — ^mornings
of wild riding on sturdy island horses among the beauti-
ful hills, with companions, men and women, who sit
saddleless, yet steady as centaurs, and race the well-
equipped visitor madly up and down hill. . . Yes,
one may safely tell it all, for most of what one says will
not be believed — are not travellers proverbial fiction-
mongers? — and Norfolk Island is so very far away, that
of those who do believe, and would willingly go and
find this wonderful Vale of Arcady, scarce one will be
able to find an opportunity. So the bloom may remain
on the fruit for just a little longer.
The islanders have their faults. They have been
lionised and petted by a far-away public, too much and
too long. They are a little vain, in consequence, and
somewhat inclined to over-estimate their own importance
on the mighty map of the world. And — as one might
well expect — these children of lawless mutineers and
sensuous Tahitians are sensuous themselves. Yet, after
all, none of their faults equal, or even approach, the
corresponding vices of more sophisticated nations. And
they are very lovable, very generous, very kind, one may
well leave criticism at that.
Intermarriage is becoming a serious question. The
islanders passionately admire one another, and are
clannish in the highest degree. They marry almost
altogether among themselves, and the results that might
be expected are beginning to show. The type of physique
is distinctly on the down grade. Consumption is becom-
ing rather common ; cancer is seen now and then ; rickets
is not unknown, and there is rather too large a propor-
tion of weak intellect. Efforts are being made by the
resident magistrate and the Government doctor to
294 FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
induce the islanders to marry into other famihes, but
so far without much result.
No one who ever stayed in Norfolk Island left it
without regret. No one ever left it, but would dearly
love to visit it again. It is one of the few spots on
earth's surface that takes close and lasting hold upon the
hearts of all who know it.
So — not because they were ended, but because a
book must end — the tale of my wanderings closes. If
there is a moral, or a meaning, the reader must find it.
THE END
INDEX
INDEX
^U fin Islands
Route: London, dovm the coasts of France and Spain, up the
Mediterranean, by Scylla and Charybdis, Port Said, through the
Gateways of the East; Red Sea, Aden, Indian Ocean, Ceylon, 3.
West Australia, Melbourne, Tasmania, Sydney, 4. Fiji, Su\'a, 5-30.
Viti Levu, 5-81. Ba, over the hills and far away, 30-33.
Pandanus Prairies, 33-37. The Naloto Range, 37. A Tropical
Forest, 37-39. Xandrunga, 40-47. Tambale, 47. Nambukuya,
the city of a dream, 47-54. Natuatuathoko, 60-65. Singatoka
River, 60, 63, 67, 68. Lemba-Lemba, an important town, 70.
Koronisingana, 73-75. Mavua, the biggest town on the Singatoka
River, 76-81. Vanua Le\-u, 83-138. Lambasa, principal Port of
Vanua Levu, 83. Vuo, 87. Wainikoro River, 91-96. Wainikoro,
96. Wainikoro River, 97-98. Ndreketi River, 101-119. Tambia,
a place to let alone, 1 01- 103. Nanduri, a high-class town, 103-107.
Ttmiba, a town on the Ndreketi River, 107, 111-119. The
Ndreketi or Senganga district, the "back of beyond," 121-138.
Nanduri, 128, 129. Lambasa, 129-132. Taviuni, one of the
larger islands, 132-137.
Agriciilture, see also Industries, Americaa Qvil War proved tiie
and Products importance of Fiji's cot-
Australian emigrants, 12 ton industry, 12
cattle, 38, 57, 62, 67, 117 Andi Keva, a coasting steamer,
132-137 77
fowl, 51, 55, 71, 74, 76, 79, Anglo-French Convention, 139
94. 95, 104, 114, 117 Animal life
horses, 57
pig's. 53' 57' 65, 71, 74, 78,
79, 95, 104, 114
sheep, 57
vanilla plantation, 23-25,
i3<^i32
Allamanda, 123
Allspice. 28
birds
fowl, 51, 55, 71, 74, 76,
79, 94, 95, 104, 114,
117
honey-birds, 116, 117
parrots, 116,
river-clains, 79
297
298
INDEX
Animal Life
fish
crayfish, 65, 71, 79 104,
114
prawn, 55
shark, 69, 98-99
insects
beetles, 123
centipedes, 116-117,123
fleas, 123-125
flies, loi
leaf-insects, 117
mosquitoes, 7
scorpions, 117
stick-insects, 117
ticks, 116, 117
mammals
cattle, 57, 62, 67, 80,
117, 132-137
goats, 117
horses, 57
pigs, 53. 57. 65, 71, 74,
78, 79, 95, 104, 114
sheep, 57
wild boars, 116, 117
wild cats, 116, 117
reptiles
chameleons, 116
serpents, 116
snakes, 116
Annatto, 28
Areca-nut palms, 28
Armed native constabulary, 9,
21, 86
Arrowroot, 28, 105
Astrolabe, D'Urville's ship, 10
Australian emigrants, 12
Azalea, 39
Ba, 17, 30, 31, 38, 58
Bad Lot, (Tha Levu), a heredi-
tary devil-priest, 122
Baker, Sir Samuel, 98
Bamboo, 36, 41, 42, 44, 45, 48,
60, 61, 63, 74, 76, 97, 124
Bananas, 17, 28, 35, 42, 47, 48,
53, 54, 67, 80, 105, no
Banks, cannibal group, 9
Bar at the mouth of the Singa-
toka River, 67-68
Ba River, 58, 80
Bau ndina, a rose-red wood, 113
Bau, Thakombau's birthplace, 62
Bau vundi, a kind of cedar, 113
Beardsley, Aubrey, 34
Beauty in Fiji, 9
Bed, a colossal, 43-44
Beetles, 123
Bethune, Capt., explorer, 10
Biology, see Animal Life
Bligh, explorer, 10
Bog, a treacherous, 108-110
Bosi, or Council of Chiefs, 73
Botanic Gardens, Suva, 27
Botany, see Plant Life
Bounty, mutiny of the, 10
Bread-fruit tree, 42
British Colonies
coloured citizens, 18
Constitution, 18
Government, 9, 13, 14, 52
57
improvements, 13-14, 18
Bua-bua, the box-wood of the
Pacific, 112
Building, 21
Buildings
church, 53
Government House, 6, 22
house of a mission-teacher,
49-50
house of the Buli of Mavua,
one of the finest in Fiji,
77 . ^
house of the good Bull of
Lemba-Lemba, 70-73
house of Turanga Lilewa ,46
jail at Suva, 19-20
mountain house, 41-44, 45
Buli, term for a high chief, 18, 70
Burton, explorer, 30, 56, 116
Cannibal Islands, 11
Cannibalism, see Murders
Card-playing in Nanduri, 105,106
Cassia, 28
FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
299
Castor oil, 28, 131
Cattle, 38, 57, 62, 67, 117
Cattle-ranching, 132-137
Cells in Suva jail, 19
Census, 15
Centipedes, 116-117, 123
Cevua, or bastard sandalwood,
112
Chameleons, 116
Chestnuts, 114, 118
Chillies, 28
Chinese, 8, 86
Church, 53, 121
Cigarettes, 53, 109
Cities, see Geography
Citrons, 36, 38, 59
City, a dream, 47-54
Civilisation only varnish deep, 37
Civilised natives become excel-
lent soldiers, 9
Clams, river, 79
Climate, 7, 32, ^S' 57. 59. 68
Cloves, 28
Cocoa, 28, 79, 118, 119
Cocoanut, 42, 55, 67, 71, 73, 75,
78, 87, 93, 105, 108, no,
117,126
fibre (sinnet), 42, 50
Cocoa-palm, 79, 118
-planting, 119
Coffee, 17, 58, 80
Colonial Sugar Refining Com-
pany, 17, 31, 86
Commerce, see Industries
Constabulary, 9, 21, 86
Contents, vii
Convicts, 17-25
Cook, explorer, 10, 98
Cook-houses in Suva jail, 19
Cook Islands, 15
Copra (the dried meat of the
cocoanut), 12, 17, 133, 134
Cotton, 12,31
Crayfish, river-, 65, 71, 79, 104,
114
Cricket-playing law, 106
Crimes, 17, 18-25
Croton oil, 28
Crotons, 47, 60
Curio shops, Suva, 27
Ctirry, 28, 126
Curse of the spotted bun, 36
Customs
eating, 71
entering houses, rule for,
42, 102
Dakua, wood resembling the
New Zealand kauri pine,
112, 119
Dancing, 9
at funeral of great chief, 9
at wedding of great chief, 9
Mavuan sunset, 76
Mek6-mek^, a sing-song
dance, 77-79, 105, 106-
107
solo, 9
tribe, 9
Waves of the Sea, one of
the most celebrated
dances, 9-10
Decline of population, 15, 16
Devil worship, 122-125
Diseases, see Sickness
Dormitories in Suva jail, 19
Dracaenas, 47, 60
Dress, 34, 35, 45. 53
Drugs, 17
D'Urville, explorer, 10
Eastern Islands, 9
Eating and talking, two great
ends of a Fijian's existence,
50-51, 56-57. 65, 71, 75,
76, 79, 80
Economic conditions, 17
Education
early missionaries, 10, 11, 13
Sunday church, 121
Emigrants, Australian, 12
Entering houses, rule for, 42, 102
Erythroxylon coca (from which
cocaine is extracted), 28
Euchre in Nanduri, 105
Europeans in Fiji, census of, 15
300
INDEX
Executive council of five for
British Governor in Fiji,
14
Explorers
Baker, Sir Samuel, 98
Bethune, Captain, 10
Bligh, 10
Burton, 30, 56, 116
Cook, 10, 98
D'Urville, 10
La P^rouse, 98
Livingstone, 92, 116
Speke, 30, 56, 92
Stanley, 30, 36, 56, 83, 116,
128
Tasman, 10
U. S. Exploring Expedition,
10
Exports, 17, 58
Feasting, 9
Fever, 7, 68, 84
Flag-staff Hill, Suva, 27
Fleas, 123-125
Flies, 10 1
Flowers, see Plant life
Food Products, see Products
Forest, a tropical, 37-39
Fowl, 51, 55, 71, 74, 76, 79, 94,
95, 104, 114, 117
as served in Fiji, 51
Friendliness, 9
Funeral dance, 9
Gardening, 9
Garden of the Swiss Family
Robinson, 27-28
Geography
Ba, 17, 30, 31, 38, 58
Ba River, 58, 80
Banks, cannibal group, 9
Bau, Thakombau's birth-
place, 62
Eastern Islands, 9
Kandavu, a province, 14
Koronisingana, 73, 74
Geography
Lambasa, principal port
of Vanua Levu, 83, 86,
117, 129
Lemba - Lemba, an impor-
tant town, 70
Levuka, former capital of
Fiji, 7, 13, III
Mangaia, Island of, 16
Mavua, the biggest town on
the Singatoka River, 76,
81
Moala, Island of, 10
Nambukuya, the city of a
dream, 40, 47-54. 55- 5^
Nandrunga, a small village,
40, 58
Nanduri, a handsome town,
103-107, 128, 129
Natuatuathoko, a mountain
fortress town, 57, 58, 60,
61
Ndreketi River, 101-119,
121, 122, 128
New Caledonia, 38
New Hebrides, cannibal
group, 9
Ngeo, Island of, 113
Niu6, Island of, 16
Ovalau, Island of, 7
Prince William Islands, 10
R^wa River, 69
Rotumah, Island of, 15
Senganga, the "back of
beyond," 121-138
Singatoka River, 60, 63, 67,
68, 80, 81, 88
Singatoka Valley, 56, 75
Solomons, cannibal group,
9
South Seas, 11, 15, 27
Suva, present capital of
Fiji, 5, 6, 7, 13, 17-25, 27,
28, 29, 31, 67, 80, 81, 85,
88, 103, 117, 119, 122, 128,
130. ^33^ 134
Suva Harbour, 27
Tamavua River, 27
lininitoiinimHimmiDiiijUjllijI-jjUM'iiHimHiHli
FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
301
Geography
Tambale, a tiny village, 47
Tambia, a place to let
alone, 101-103, 104, 114
Taviuni, one of the larger
islands, 17, 115, 132-137
Tavua River, 58
Tholo West Country (Singa-
toka and highlands), 132
Timor, 10
Tonga, group of islands, 12,
13. 16
Tumba, a town on the
Ndreketi River, 107, iii-
119, 122, 128
Vanua Levu (Great Land),
6,23,83-99,113, 114, 127,
129, 130
Vatoa, Island of, 10
Viti Levu (Great Fiji), 6, 7,
39,83, 86,87,88,113, 114
Vuo, 98
Wainikoro, 87, 88, 91, 96
Wainikoro River, 91
Gideon's transformation, 1 2 5-1 28
wonder tales, 88-89, 113-
114
Ginger, 28
Goats, 117
Government
British, 9, 13, 14, 52, 57
Constitution, 18
Cricket-playing law, 106
House at Suva, 6, 22, 122
Penal system, humours of
the, 17-25
Post, 25, 129
Under the present Gover-
nor, 15
United States and King
Thakombau, 11, 13
Viti Levu, seat of Fijian
Government, 7
Government armed native con-
stabulary, 9, 21, 86
Gratitude, 71-72
Great Britain refuses King Tha-
kombau's offer, 1 1
Grief, 125-126
Guavas, 60, 63, 80, 117
Guinea-grass, 54
Gum, 112
Arabic, 28
Hair-dress, 45-47. 75. 78, 105
Half-castes, 8, 15
census of, 15
Heathen days of Fiji, 10
Hemp, sisal, 28
Hibiscus, 63, 117
High Commissioner of the West-
ern Pacific, 14
History, 10-17
Discovered by Tasman, 10;
Vatoa sighted by Cook,
10; Moala, observations
made by Bligh, 10; First
chart constructed by
D'Urville, 10; Cannibal-
ism, 11; Civilisation, 11;
Thakombau, King, one of
the worst monsters of
cruelty since Nero, 11;
Islands offered to Great
Britain in 1858, 11 ; Rich-
est prize in the South Seas
goes a-begging, 1 1 ; Aus-
tralian emigrants, 12;
Tonga tribes give serious
trouble, 12-13; Fiji a
Crown Colony in 1874,
13; British form of gov-
ernment, 13-14
Honey-birds, 116, 117
Horse of the author, Tan^wa,
54-55, 60, 63, 65, 68, 77,
84, 108-110
Horses, 57
House, a mountain, 41-44, 45
of a mission-teacher, 49-50
of the Buli of Mavua, one
of the finest in Fiji, 77
of the good Buli of Lemba-
Lemba, 70-73
of the Turanga Lilewa, 64-
65
300
INDEX
Executive council of five for
British Governor in Fiji,
14
Explorers
Baker, Sir Samuel, 98
Bethune, Captain, 10
Bligh, 10
Burton, 30, 56, n6
Cook, 10, 98
D'Urville, 10
La P^rouse, 98
Livingstone, 92, 116
Speke, 30, 56, 92
Stanley, 30, 36, 56, 83, 116,
128
Tasman, 10
U. S. Exploring Expedition,
10
Exports, 17, 58
Feasting, 9
Fever, 7, 68, 84
Flag-staff Hill, Suva, 27
Fleas, 123-125
Flies, 10 1
Flowers, see Plant life
Food Products, see Products
Forest, a tropical, 37-39
Fowl, 51, 55, 71, 74, 76, 79, 94,
95, 104, 114, 117
as served in Fiji, 51
Friendliness, 9
Funeral dance, 9
Gardening, 9
Garden of the Swiss Family
Robinson, 27-28
Geography
Ba, 17, 30, 31, 38, 58
Ba River, 58, 80
Banks, cannibal group, 9
Bau, Thakombau's birth-
place, 62
Eastern Islands, 9
Kandavu, a province, 14
Koronisingana, 73, 74
Geography
Lambasa, principal port
of Vanua Levu, 83, 86,
117, 129
Lemba - Lemba, an impor-
tant town, 70
Levuka, former capital of
Fiji, 7, 13, III
Mangaia, Island of, 16
Mavua, the biggest town on
the Singatoka River, 76,
81
Moala, Island of, 10
Nambukuya, the city of a
dream, 40, 47-54. 55. 5^
Nandrunga, a small village,
40, 58
Nanduri, a handsome town,
103-107, 128, 129
Natuatuathoko, a mountain
fortress town, 57, 58, 60,
61
Ndreketi River, 101-119,
121, 122, 128
New Caledonia, 38
New Hebrides, cannibal
group, 9
Ngeo, Island of, 113
Niu6, Island of, 16
Ovalau, Island of, 7
Prince William Islands, 10
R6wa River, 69
Rotumah, Island of, 15
Senganga, the "back of
beyond," 121-138
Singatoka River, 60, 63, 67,
68, 80, 81, 88
Singatoka Valley, 56, 75
Solomons, cannibal group,
9
South Seas, 11, 15, 27
Suva, present capital of
Fiji, 5, 6, 7, 13, 17-25, 27,
28, 29, 31, 67, 80, 81, 85,
88, 103, 117, 119, 122, 128,
130, 133, 134
Suva Harbour, 27
Tamavua River, 27
FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
301
Geography
Tambale, a tiny village, 47
Tambia, a place to let
alone, 101-103, 104, 114
Taviuni, one of the larger
islands, 17, 115, 132-137
Tavua River, 58
Tholo West Country (Singa-
toka and highlands), 132
Timor, 10
Tonga, group of islands, 12,
13. 16
Tumba, a town on the
Ndreketi River, 107, iii-
119, 122, 128
Vanua Levu (Great Land),
6,23,83-99,113, 114, 127,
129, 130
Vatoa, Island of, 10
Viti Levu (Great Fiji), 6, 7,
39,83, 86,87,88, 113, 114
Vuo, 98
Wainikoro, 87, 88, 91, 96
Wainikoro River, 91
Gideon's transformation, 1 2 5-1 28
wonder tales, 88-89, 113-
114
Ginger, 28
Goats, 117
Government
British, 9, 13, 14, 52, 57
Constitution, 18
Cricket-playing law, 106
House at Suva, 6, 22, 122
Penal system, humours of
the, 17-25
Post, 25, 129
Under the present Gover-
nor, 15
United States and King
Thakombau, 11, 13
Viti Levu, seat of Fijian
Government, 7
Government armed native con-
stabulary, 9, 21, 86
Gratitude, 71-72
Great Britain refuses King Tha-
kombau's offer, ii
Grief, 125-126
Guavas, 60, 63, 80, 117
Guinea-grass, 54
Gum, 112
Arabic, 28
Hair-dress, 45-47. 75. 7^, 105
Half-castes, 8, 15
census of, 15
Heathen days of Fiji, 10
Hemp, sisal, 28
Hibiscus, 63, 117
High Commissioner of the West-
ern Pacific, 14
History, 10-17
Discovered by Tasman, 10;
Vatoa sighted by Cook,
10; Moala, observations
made by Bligh, 10; First
chart constructed by
D'Urville, 10; Cannibal-
ism, 11; Civilisation, 11;
Thakombau, King, one of
the worst monsters of
cruelty since Nero, 11;
Islands offered to Great
Britain in 1858, 11 ; Rich-
est prize in the South Seas
goes a-begging, 1 1 ; Aus-
tralian emigrants, 12;
Tonga tribes give serious
trouble, 12-13; Fiji ^
Crown Colony in 1874,
13; British form of gov-
ernment, 13-14
Honey-birds, 116, 117
Horse of the author, Tan6wa,
54-55, 60, 63, 65, 68, 77,
84, 108-110
Horses, 57
House, a mountain, 41-44, 45
of a mission-teacher, 49-50
of the Buli of Mavua, one
of the finest in Fiji, 77
of the good Buli of Lemba-
Lemba, 70-73
of the Turanga Lilewa, 64-
65
302
INDEX
Humour, 17-25, 89-90
Hurricanes, 7, 131
Hymns, 53
Idols, see Religion
Illustrations, list of, xi
Imports, 17, 57
Improvements
British, 13-14, 18
early missionaries, 10, 11,
13. 18
planters and traders, 18
Sunday church, 121
under the present Gover-
nor, 15
Indians, 8, 15, 16, 17, 31, 86, 130,
Industries (see also Agriculture
and Products)
building, 21
cattle-ranching, 132-137
cocoa-planting, 119
Colonial Sugar Refining
Company, 17, 31, 86
exports, 17
Fiji, 16, 17
imports, 17, 57
roadmaking, 21
timber, 17, 19, 57,101,112-
119, 127
vanilla plantation, 129, 130-
132
Vitu Levu, 7
Insects, see Animal life
Ironwood, 89
Islands, see Geography
Jails, 17, 18-25
Kaisi, or commonalty, relation
to chiefs, 95-96
Kandavu, a province, 14
King's service, Fijian term for
being in jail, 22
Koronisingana, 73, 74
Lali, a canoe-shaped wooden
drum, 53
Lambasa, principal port of
Vanua Levu, 83, 86, 113,
117, 129
Land-tenure, 15
La Pdrouse, 98
Latitude, 6
Laws, see Government
Leaf-insects, 117
Legislative council of twelve for
British Governor in Fiji, 14
Lemba-Lemba, an important
town, 70
Lemons, 36, 59, 60, 63, 114
Leprosy, 102-103
Levuka, former capital of Fiji,
7. 13. Ill
Lianas, 36, 39, 83, 107, 115, 118
Limes, 28
List of illustrations, xi
Livingstone, explorer, 92, 116
Longitude, 6
Lotus, 9
Luggage, 34-35
"Luveni wai" worship, a mix-
ture of "miracle play,"
devil-worship, and mur-
der, I2I-I22
Maafu, a powerful chief of
Tonga, 13
Macuata, Roko Tui, or Prince
of, 103
Mails, carried by convicts, 25,
129
Maize, 19
Makarita, wife of the Roko Tui
Macuata, 104-105
Malaria, 68
Mammals, see Animal life
Mandarin orange, 63
Mangaia, Island of, 16
Mangoes, 75
Manufactures, see Industries
Massacres, see Murders
Mavua, the biggest town on the
Singatoka River, 76, 78, 81
Mavuan sunset dance, 76
Mbili-mbili, a small bamboo
raft, 69, 73, 74
FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
3^3
Mbuli, term for a chief, 14, 47, 49
Meke-mek^, a sing-song dance,
77-79, 105, 106-107
Missionaries, 10, 11, 13, 18
Moala, Island of, 10
Mosquitoes, 7
Mountain house, 41-44, 45
Mountains, see Geography
Mulberry-tree, 10
Murders, massacres, tortures and
cannibalism
cannibal days of Fiji a thing
of the past, lo-ii, 29, 37
chief diversions of a Fijian's
life, 18
during Thakombau's reign,
II
"luveni wai," 121-122
Tha Levu, 122-123
Music, the soul of Fijians, 9
Nambukuya, the city of a dream,
40, 47-54. 55. 58
Nandrunga, a small village in
Fiji, 40, 58
Nanduri, a handsome town, 103-
107, 128, 129
Native
banks, 9
census, 15
verses, impromptu, 45
Natives, chiefs, 95-96
civilised become excellent
soldiers, 9
decline of population, 15, 16
dress, 34, 35, 45, 53
eating and talking, two
great ends of a Fijian's
existence, 50-51, 56-57,
65. 71. 75. 76. 79. 80
gratitude, 71-72
grief, 125-126
humour, 17-25, 89-90
kaisi, or commonalty, 95-96
Mavua, 78
mixture of population, 8
New Hebrides, 9
regard for whites, 86-87
Natives
of the Solomons, 9
of Suva, 6-10
women, 43-44
Natuatuathoko, a mountain for-
tress town, 57-58,60, 61,62
Natural resources, see Products,
Plant life. Agriculture, and
Industries
Ndalo, one of Fiji's most impor-
tant roots, 49, 51, 71, 95,
no, 114
Ndreketi River, 101-119, 121,
122, 128
New Caledonia, 38
New Hebrides, 9
Ngeo, Island of, 113
Niue, Island of, 16
Number of islands in Fiji, 6
Oranges, 28, 47, 54, 60, 62, 63,
64, 75, 80, 92, 114
Orchid, 38, 115
Outfit, 30, 32, S3
Ovalau, Island of, 7
Palms, 8, 45, 92, 133
areca-nut, 28
Pandanus , or screw pine ,33,42,97
prairies, 33, 37
Papya, 28
Parrots, 116
Paw-paws, 75
Peanuts, 17
Penal system, humours of the,
17-25
Pepper, 79
Pigs. 53. 57. 65, 71, 74, 79. 95.
104, 114, 117
Pine-apples, 28, 98
Pini, or tunic, 49, 104, 105
Plant life (see also Products)
allamanda, 123
azalea, 39
bamboo, 36, 41, 42, 44, 45,
48, 60,61, 63, 74, 76,97,124
bread-fruit tree, 42
cocoa-palm, 79, 118
304
INDEX
Plant life
guinea-grass, 54
ironwood, 89
lianas, 36, 39, 83, 107, 115,
118
lotus, 9
mangoes, 75
mulberry-tree, 10
orchid, 38, 115
palms, 8, 45. 92, 133
pandanus, or screw pine, 33,
42, 97
potatoes, wild, 118
rain-palms, 8
salvia, scarlet, 39
shaddocks, 38
sinnet, or cocoanut fibre, 42
tree-ferns, 38
tuberoses, 39
Pleasure parties, 9
Police-stations, 18
Politics, see Government
Polynesian labourers, 31
Population, 15, 16
Possibilities, 57, 59
Post, 25, 129
Prawn, river-, 55
Prayers, 53
Prince of Macuata, or Roko Tui
Macuata, 103
Prince William Islands, 10
Products, see also Agriculture,
Industries, and Plant life
allspice, 28
annatto, 28
areca-nut palms, 28
arrowroot. 28, 105
bamboo, 36, 41, 42, 44, 45,
48,60,61,63,74,76,97,124
bananas, 17, 28, 35, 42, 47,
48,53,54, 67, 80,105, no
bau ndina, a rose-red wood,
113
bau vundi, a kind of cedar,
113
bread-fruit tree, 42
bua-bua, the boxwood of
the Pacific, 112
Products
cassia, 28
castor oil, 28, 131
cevua, or bastard sandal-
wood, 112
chestnuts, 114, 118
chillies, 28
citrons, 36, 38, 59
cloves, 28
coca, erythroxylon, from
which cocaine is extracted,
28
cocoa, 28, 79, 118, 119
cocoanut, 42, 55, 67, 71, 73,
75, 78, 87, 93, 105, 108,
no, 117, 126
coffee, 17, 58, 80
copra, the dried meat of the
cocoanut, 12, 17, 133, 134
cotton, 12, 31
croton oil, 28
crotons, 47, 60
curry, 28, 126
dakua, wood resembling the
New Zealand kauri pine,
112, 119
dracaenas, 47, 60
drugs, 17
ginger, 28
guavas, 60, 63, 80, 117
guinea-grass, 54
gum, 112
Arabic, 28
hibiscus, 63, 117,
lemons, 36, 59, 60, 63, 114
lianas, 36, 39, 85, 107, 115,
118
limes, 28
maize, 19
mandarin orange, 63
mangoes, 75
ndalo, one of Fiji's most
important roots, 49, 51,
71, 95, no, 114
oranges, 28, 47, 54, 60, 62,
63, 64, 75, 80, 92, 114
pandanus, or screw pine,
33> 42
FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES 305
Products
papya, 28
paw-paws, 75
peanuts, 17
pepper, 79
pine-apples, 28, 98
potatoes, wild, 118
ramie fibre, 28
rice, 24, 113
sandalwood, 112
savairabunidamu, a dark-
red wood, 112
shallots, 79
sinnet, or cocoanut fibre,
42, 5°
sisal hemp, 28
sugar, 12, 17, 31, 67, 86, 88,
89, 97, no, 113, 114, 128
taro, 37, 47
tea, 17, 71, 72, 80, 84, 88,
113, 114, 127
teak, 28
timber, 17, 19, 57, iii, 119,
tobacco, 16, 19, 53, 71, 72,
89, 125, 128
turmeric, excellent for cur-
ries, 28
vanilla, 17, 28, 67, 74, 80,
129, 130-132
vesi, teak-like wood, 112
West India arrowroot, 28
yaka, the rosewood of the
Pacific, 112
yam, 22, 37, 42, 47, 48, 50,
SI. 53. 55. 59. 65, 71. 75.
76, 79, 94, 95, 114, 118
yanggona, the "kava" of
the Eastern Pacific, 51-
52, 59, 77, 96, 105
Providence , Bligh's ship, 10
127
Rain-trees, 8
Ramie fibre, 28
Regard for whites, 86-87
Religion
church, 53
hymns, 53
Religion
"luveni wai" worship, a
mixture of ' ' miracle
play," devil-worship, and
murder, 1 21-12 2
prayers, 53
' ' tembe-tembe , ' ' devil-wor-
ship, 122-125
Reptiles, see Animal life
Resources, see Products, Agri-
culture, and Industries
R^wa River, 69
Rewa Road, 31
Rice, 24, 113
River-crayfish, 65, 71, 79, 104,
114
prawns, 55
Rivers, see Geography
Roadmaking, 21
Roko Tui, degree for the pro-
vince princes, 14
Macuata, or Prince of Macu-
ata, 103, 104
Rotumah, Island of, 15
Rulers
Buli, term for a high chief,
70
Maafu, a powerful chief of
Tonga, 13
MbuH, term for a chief, 14,
47.49
Robinson, Sir Hercules,
British Governor of Fiji,
13. 14
Roko Tui, degree for the
province princes, 14
Macuata, or Prince of Ma-
cuata, 103, 104
Thakombau, King of Fiji,
one of the worst monsters
of cruelty since Nero, 1 1 ,
13, 18, 62, 104
Thurn, Sir Everard im,
present Governor of Fiji,
14-15. 39
Turanga ni Koro, degree for
the chief of a town, 14, 51,
52, 55' 102, 114
3o6
INDEX
Salvia, scarlet, 39
Samoans, 8
Sandalwood, 112
Savairabunidamu, a dark-red
wood, 112
Sawmill, iii, 113
Scorpions, 117
Senganga, the ' ' back of beyond,"
121-138
Serpents, 116
Shaddocks, 38
Shallots, 79
Sharks, 69, 98-99
Sheep, 57
Shipping, see Industries
Shower-bath in Xanduri, 104
Sickness
chest troubles, 16
dysentery, 7
European diseases, 16
fever, 7, 68, 84
leprosy, 102-103
malaria, 68
skin diseases, 10 1
"thoko," a skin disease,
lOI
Singatoka and highlands (Tholo
West Country), 132
River, 60, 63, 67, 68, 80,
81, 88
Valley, 56, 75
Sinnet, or cocoanut fibre, 42, 50
Sisal hemp, 28
Skin diseases, loi
Snakes, 116
Social conditions, 17
Society, 104
Solo dancing, 9
Solomons, cannibal group, 9
Somo-somo, a horse from Vuo,
87, 90, 108-110, 129
South Seas, 11, 15, 27
Speke, explorer, 30, 56, 92
Stanley, 30, 36, 56, 83, 116, 128
Stick-insects, 117
Stock, 17
Sugar, 12, 17, 31, 67, 86, 88, 89,
97, no, 113, 114, 128
Sugar-cane mek^-meke, 106-107
Sulu, the national kilt of the
Fijians, 14, 23, 34, 45, 49,
53. 55. 62, 70, 76, 78, 79,
84, 105, 106, 123, 128
Sunset dance, Mavuan, 76
Suva, present capital of Fiji, 5,
6, 7, 13, 17, 25, 27, 28, 29,
31, 67, 80, 81, 85,88, 103,
III, 117, 119, 122, 128,
130. U3^ 134
Government House, 6, 22
Harbour, 27
Society, 27
Systems, see Government
"Tabu kaisi," mat forbidden to
commoners, 102
Tamavua River, 27
Tambale, a tiny village, 47
Tambia, a place to let alone,
101-103, 104, 114
Tan^wa, the author's horse 54-
55, 60, 63, 65, 68, 77, 84,
108-110
Taro, 37,47
Tasman, discoverer of Fiji, 10
Taviuni, a great island near
Vanua Levu, 17, 115, 132-
Tavu River, 58
Taxes, 9, 19, 22
Tea, 17, 71, 72, 80, 84, 88, 113,
114, 127
Teak, 28
"Tembe-tembe," devil-worship,
122-125
Temperature, 7, 50
Tevoro, or devil, 123-125
Thakombau, King, one of the
worst monsters of cruelty
since Nero, 11, 13, 18, 62
104
birthplace, Bau, 62
monument at Suva, 27
Tha Levu (Bad Lot), a heredi-
tary devil-priest, 122-123
"Thoko," a skin disease, loi
FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
307
Tholo West Country (Singa-
toka and highlands), 132
Thurn Lady im, wife of present
Governor of Fiji, 15
Sir Everard im, present
Governor of Fiji, 14-15,
39
Ticks, 116, 117
Timber, 17, 19, 57, loi, 111-119,
127
Timor, 10
Tobacco, 16, 19, 5^, 71, 72, 89,
125, 128
Tonga, a group of islands, rival
of Fiji, 12-13, ^6
Tortures, see Miirders
Towns, see Geography
Trades, see Industries
Tram-line, 24
Transportation, see Industries
Tree-ferns, 38
Tribe dancing, 9
Tropical forest, 37-39
Trunk, Fijian, 34
Tuberoses, 39
Tumba, a town on the Ndreketi
River, 107, 111-119, 122,
128
Tunic, see Pini
Turanga Lilewa, a chief of im-
portance, 64-65
Turanga ni Koro, term for the
head man of a town, 14, 51,
52, 55, 102, 114
Turmeric, excellent for curries, 28
United States Exploring Expe-
dition, ID
United States Government, 11,31
Vanilla, 17, 28, 67, 74, 80, 129,
130-132
plantation, 23-25, 130-132
Vanua Levu (Great Land), 6.
23. 83-99, 113. 114. 127,
129, 130
Vatua, Island of, 10
Vegetables, see Plant life, and
Products
Verses, impromptu, 45
Vesi, teak-like wood, 112
Village, a mountain, 45
Villages, see Geography
Viti Levu (Great Fiji), most
important island in the
archipelago, 6, 7, 39, 83,
86, 87, 88, 113, 114
Vuo, 87, 98
Wainikoro, 87, 88, 91, 96
Wainikoro River, 91
Wall of Suva jail, a joke, 19-20
Water-pipes in Nanduri, 104
Waterways, see Geography
Waves of the Sea, one of the
most celebrated dances, 9-
10
Wedding dance, 9
West India arrowroot, 28, 105
Whist in Nanduri, 105
Wild boars, 116, 117
cats, 116, 117
potatoes, 118
Women, 43-44
Yaka, the rosewood of the
Pacific, 112
Yam, 22, 37, 42, 47, 48, 50, 51,
53. 55. 59. 65, 71. 75. 76, 79,
94. 95. 114, 118
Yanggona, the "kava" of the
Eastern Pacific, 51-52, 59,
77. 96. 105
Zoology, see Animal life
:o8
INDEX
Route: Sydney, 139, 140. Port Vila, 143-144. Vila, 144.
M^le road, 160. Undine Bay, 161. Efatd, 162-176. M^le beach,
162. Mele Island, 162. Through the "bush," 162-163. Sou'-
West Bay, 185-187. Malekula, 187-235. Ten Stick Island, 190-
191. Bilyas, 193-195. Tanna, the southernmost of the New
Hebrides, 237-277. Lamanian, a village on Tanna Island, 241,
242. Imale, 243-253. Lenakil, 253-255. Whitesands, 257.
Advertisement for New Hebrides
145
Adzes, 220
Agriculture (see also Products)
plantation life, 163-173
sheep - farming at Erro-
manga, 275
Almonds, 163
Alunk, a kind of image, 228
Amat (high chief), a kind of
image, 228
Ambang, name for the Bwiliau
image, 228
Ambrym, 178, 275, 276
Amils, village squares, 226, 229
Aneityum, 238, 275
Anglo-French Convention, 139,
150. 174
Anglo-French dilemma, 147-154
Animal life
fruit bat, 202
goat, 165
locust, 248
mosquito, 173
parrot, 163, 202
pig, 163, 181, 164-185, 203,
213, 215, 227, 228, 247, 268
pigeon, 163, 179
spider, 243
wild boar, 163, 202
Aniwa, 259
Aoba, 276
Arch-idol, 229-230
Arrowroot, 165
Atamat and Fintimbus, dancing,
211-217
Aurora, 276
Australia, 140, 255
Balanrum, a kind of image, 228
Balias, a kind of image, 228
Bamboo, 209, 220
Bananas, 165
Banyans, 163, 201, 243, 244,
245, 248, 257
Bat, fruit, 202
Bataru, name for the Alunk
image, 228
Bilyas, 193-195
Biology, see Animal life
Bird's-nest ferns, 201
Boars, wild, 163, 202
tusks, 184-185, 202, 212
Borde, Monsieur, French Com-
missioner, 149, 158, 169,
174
Botany, see Plant life
Bracelets, 210
Bread-fruit, 219
British Solomons, 146, 255
Buildings
bungalow of Capt. Ernest
Rason, British Commis-
sioner, 144
"hamal," 182-183, 205, 209,
218-220
mission house, Malekula,
193
planter's home, 163-164
Bungalow of Capt. Ernest
Rason, British Commis-
sioner, 144
FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
309
"Bush" country, 162-163
"Bush-lawyer" vine, 161
Bushman's Bay, 233
Bwila, name for the Bwilbon
image, 228
Bwilbon, a kind of image, 228
Bwilian, a kind of image,2 28
Cannibalism, see Murders
Canoes, 185
Carteret, Captain, 147
Caste-superstitions, 204
Cities, see Geography
Clothes, 155, 158, 180-181, 203
Cocoanuts, 163, 219, 228
Cocoa-palm, 179
Coffee, 146, 160, 165, 168, 172,
179
Cook, Captain, explorer, 147,
189, 274
Copra, 146, 151, 179, 185, 253,
261, 263
Coral, 162
Cottonwood, 144, 187
Council of war, 251-252
Dancing
Atamat and Fintimbus,
211-217
idol, 199, 209-217
Sing-Sing ground, 184
solo, 211
De Bougainville, 147, 189
De Quiros, Portuguese explorer,
147
Discovery of New Hebrides by
the Portuguese, De Quiros
147
Diseases, see Sickness
D'Oyly, Commander H., of the
Pegasus, 196, 234
Drum-sticks, 220
Dynamite, 158-159
Earrings, 210
Education of the natives, 156
Efate, 157, 162-176, 201
Epi, 178
Erromanga, the "Martyr Isle,"
259, 276
Events on a plantation, 165-167
Explorers
Carteret, Captain, 147
Cook, Captain, 147, 189, 274
De Bougainville, 147, 189
De Quiros, Portuguese, 147
Stanley, 261
Fear author at Whitesands, 260
Ferns, bird's-nests, 201
Fern-tree, 227, 228
Fever, 165, 173, 188, 198, 201,
210, 248, 267, 277
Figs, 163. 261
Fintimbus, and Atamat, dancing
211-217
Fire-arms, 157-158, 174, 265
Fishing with dynamite, 158-160
Flowers, see Plant life
Food products, see Products
France's reasons for acquiring
New Hebrides, 148-149
"Frigate" bird, 205
Fruit bat, 202
Geography
Ambrym, 178, 275, 276
Aneityum, 238, 275
Aniwa, 259
Aoba, 276
Aurora, 276
Australia, 140, 255
Bilyas, 193-195
British Solomons, 146, 255
Bushman's Bay, 233
Efate, 157, 162-176, 201
Erromanga, the "Martyr
Isle," 259, 276
Imale, 243-253
Lamanian, 241, 242
Lenakil, 238, 253-255
Lowinnie, 244
Lumbumbu, 196
Maewo, Island of, 227, 276
Malekula, or Mallicollo,
176-235, 237, 276
3IO
INDEX
Geography
Maskelyne Islands, 227
Mele Beach, 162
Mele Island, 162
New Caledonia, 140, 147
149, 150, 153
New Guinea, 1 49
Paama, 178
Pentecost, 276
Port Vila, 143-144
Queensland, 265, 266
Rano, Island of, 180, 234
Santo, 237, 276
Solomons, 146, 255
South Seas, 162
Sou'- West Bay, 177, 185-
187, 190, 217, 220
Sulphur Bay, 264, 267
Sydney, 139, 140, 164
Tanna, the southernmost
of the New Hebrides,
175-176, 201, 237-277
Ten Stick Island, 190-191
Undine Bay, 161
Uripiv, 220
Vila, "capital" of New Heb-
rides, 143-145, 157, 238
Wala, a strange little island
off the coast of Malekula,
179-180, 184-234
Whitesands, 257
Ginger, 213
Goat, 165
Government
Australian view ")f the New
Hebrides, 140
men-of-war, 169, 174, 187,
189, 190, 199, 233
Tariff laws, "White Aus-
tralia," 139, 173
Grain, 149
Graveyards, 158, 183
Guava, 144, 167
"Hamal," 182-183, 205, 209,
218-220
Heads, conical, 221-223
Hibiscus. 2 19
History
Anglo-French Convention,
139, 150, 174, 176. Anglo-
French dilemma, 147-154.
Discovered by the Portu-
guese De Quiros, in 1605,
147. Offers of exchange
for New Hebrides, 148,
153. France's reasons for
acquiring New Hebrides,
148-149
Hurricane, 203
Idols
in dancing, 199, 209-217
in Malekula, 225
in the Sing-Sing ground, 183
Imale, 243-253
Insects, see Animal life
Islands, see Geography
Journal of the Royal Anthro-
pological Soc'y of Australia,
226-229
Kava, 247
Killing-mallets, 220
Lamanian, 241, 242
Land tenure, 173
Laws, see Government
Leggatt, Mr. Watt, missionary,
226-230
Lemon-trees, 161
Lenakil, 238, 253-255
Lever Brothers, manufacturers,
146
Liana, 163, 200, 201
Liquor, 174
Locusts, 248
Lovwis, name for the Matalau
image, 228
Lowinnie, 244
Lumbumbu, 196
Maewo, Island of, 227, 276
Maize, 146, 160
Malaita, S.S., 274
FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
311
Malaria, 173, 277
Malekula, 176-235, 237, 276
idols, 225
MallicoUo, see Malekula
Mammals, see Animal life
Mangrove, 200
Maskelyne Islands, 227
Maskelynes, kind of image, 227
Matalau, a kind of image, 228
Mele beach, 162
Island, 162
road, 160
Meleun, a kind of image, 228
Men-of-war, 169, 174, 187, 189,
190, 199, 233
Meurthe, French man of -war 189,
193. 195. 196
Millet, 146, 168
Missionaries, 146, 152, 156, 178-
179, 190, 225-229, 238
Mission house, Malekula, 193
Mosquitoes, 173
Mountains, see Geography
Mummies, 218-220
Murders, massacres, tortures,
and cannibalism
Australian view of New
Hebrides, 140
Malekula, 190, 203, 212
no redress for, 150
Sing-Sing ground, 183
Tanna, 239
Mythology, Malekula, 229
Nahau, name for the Taresing
image, 228
Natemate, 227-229
National dress of Malekula, 180-
181
Natives
clothes, 155, 158
education, 156
fear of author at White-
sands, 260
free with fire-arms, 157-158,
174, 265
gorilla-like, 156
honesty, 156
Natives
murderous, filthy and un-
happy brutes, 151
national dress of Malekula,
I 80-1 8 I
nobihty in Malekula, 181
population, 145-146
sullen and ugly, 155
Wala, 180
wives in New Hebrides,
181-182
women in Malekula, 205-
207, 210
women in Tanna, 249
Natural resources, see Products,
Plant Life, and Agriculture
" Netik," a witchcraft belief,
250-251
New Caledonia, 140, 147, 149,
New Guinea, 149
Nobihty in Malekula, 181
Number of islands in the New
Hebrides, 145
Offers to exchange for New Heb-
rides
Manihiki Islands, 153
Mauritius, 153
Rapa, Island of, 148
Oranges, 165
Orchids, 201
Paama, 178
Palms, 144, 158, 179, 201, 213,
249, 260, 269
Pandanus, 180, 210, 249, 269
Parrots, 163, 202
Pegasus, H.M.S., 175, 189, 193,
235
Pentecost, 276
Peppers, 165
Pigeons, 163, 179
Pigmies, 187, 205
Pigs, 163, 181, 184-185, 203, 213,
215, 227, 228, 247, 268
Pig's tail, 202, 212
Plantation life, 163-173
312
INDEX
Planter's home, 163-164
Plant life (see also Products)
banyans, 163, 201, 243, 244,
245, 248, 257
"bush-lawyer" vine, 161
Cottonwood, 144, 187
ferns, bird's-nests, 201
fern-tree, 227, 228
guava, 144
mangrove, 200
orchids, 201
palms, 144, 158, 179, 201,
213, 249, 260, 269
Poisoned arrows, 187, 188, 230-
232
Population, 145-146
Port Vila, 143-144
Potato, 163
Presbyterian babies, 178-179
Products, see also Plant life, and
Agriculture
almonds, 163
arrowroot, 167
bamboo, 209, 220
bananas, 165,
bread-fruit, 219
cocoanuts, 163, 219, 228
cocoa-palm, 179
coffee, 146, 160, 165, 168,
172, 179
copra, 146, 151, 179, 185,
253, 261, 263
coral, 162
Cottonwood, 144 187
figs, 163, 261
ginger, 213
grain, 149
guava, 144, 167
hibiscus, 249
kava, 247
lemons, 161,
lianas, 163, 200, 201
liquor, 174
maize, 146, 160
millet, 146, 1 68
oranges, 165
pandanus, 180, 210, 249, 269
peppers, 165
Products
potatoes, 163
rose-apples, 261
sinnet, 202, 222
sugar, 166
tariff laws, White Australia,
139. 153
taro, 163, 201, 214
tea, 165, 166,
tobacco, 151, 158, 214, 219,
231, 250, 262
tomatoes, 165
tree-melons, 261
wood-ash, 201
Protectorate, 174
Queensland, 265, 266
sugar country, 240
Rainfall, 200
Rano, Island of, 180, 234
Rason, Capt. Ernest, British
Commissioner, 144, 149, 158
169, 174
Religion
"frigate" bird, 205
idols in Malekula, 225
in the Sing-Sing ground,
183
Rivers, see Geography
Rose-apples, 261
Santo, 237, 276
Sarguey, murdered white trader,
195, 196-198
Savanral, name for the Balan-
rum image, 228
Schooner threatened, 232-233
Sea-chief, an ill-natured, 233-235
Sheep-farming,atErromanga, 275
Sickness
fever, 165, 173, 188, 198,
201, 210, 248, 267, 277
malaria, 173, 277
Sing-Sing ground, 179, 183-184
cannibalism on, 183
dancing on, 184
idols on, 183
FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
3^3
Sinnet, 202, 222
Size of New Hebrides, 139-140,
145
Skulls, 222-223
Soap-making, 146, 261
Solo dancing, 211
Solomons, 146, 255
South Seas, 162
Sou'-West Bay, 177, 185-187,
190, 217, 220
Spiders, 243
Stanley, 261
Sugar, 166
Sulphur Bay, 264, 267
Sydney, 139, 140, 164
Tan melev, a kind of image, 228
Tanna, southernmost of the New
Hebrides, 175 - 176, 201,
237-277
Taresing, a kind of image, 227
Tariff laws. White Australia, 139,
173
Taro, 163, 201, 214
Tea, 165, 166, 259
"Temes, " images of the dead,
226
Temperature, 179
Ten Stick Island, 1 90-1 91
Tobacco, 151, 158, 214, 219, 231,
250, 262
Tomatoes, 165
Tortoise-shell, 210
Tortures, see Murders
Tree-melons, 261
Tribal-fighting, 175-176
Undine Bay, 161
Uripiv, 220
Vaucluse, French warship, 175
Vila, "capital " of New Hebrides,
143-145. 157. 238
Villages, see Geography
Vilvil, name for the Vilvilbon
image, 228
Vilvilbon, a kind of image, 228
Volcano, 257, 267-275
Wala, a strange little island off
the coast of Malekula, 179-
i8o, 184-234
natives of, 180
Waterways, see Geography
White Australia tariff laws, 139,
153
Whitesands, 257
Wives in New Hebrides, 181-182
Women in Malekula, 205-207,
210
in Tanna, 249
Wood-ash, 201
Yam, 163, 179, 180, 181, 182,
203, 205, 206, 214, 217, 242,
245
Zoology, see Animal life.
il^otfolk llgiland
Adams, sailor, last survivor of
mutineer crew, 282
Bananas, 292
Barracks, 284
Bishop, 289
Bligh, Commander, 280
Bloody Bridge, 291
Bounty, British man-of-war, 280,
285, 286, 287, 292
Bread-fruit trees, 280
Bridges, 285
British West Indies, 280
Cancer, 293
Carteret, discoverer, 281
Cattle, 290
Celebrations, 292-293
Christian, Lieutenant of H. M. S.
Bounty, 281, 287
Church of England Melanesian
Mission, 290
314
INDEX
Churches, 284
Clarke, Marcus, author of "For
the Term of His Natural
Life," 283
Clergy, 289
Coffee, 292
Consumption, 293
Convict station, 283-284
Cook, explorer, 283
Coral, 280
Corn, 289
Courthouse, 284
Dancing, 292
Discovery by Carteret, 281
by Cook, 283
Drake, Captain and Mrs., 286
Dutch East Indies, 280
Emigration, 283
Geography
British West Indies, 280
Dutch East Indies, 280
Mount Pitt, 289
Nepean Island, 291
New Hebrides, 291
New South Wales, 286
Philip Island, 291
Pitcairn, named after mid-
shipman who first sighted
it, 281, 282, 287, 293
Solomons, 291
Svdnev, 279, 288
Tahiti', 280, 281
Tasmania, 283
Timor, Dutch East Indies,
280
Government Commission, 285
Government House, 286, 289
Grapes, 291
Graveyard, 284
Guavas, 291
History
Discovered by Carteret in
1767, 281. Pitcairn
named after the midship-
History
man who first sighted it,
281. Adams, last sur-
vivor of mutineer crew,
282.
Nobbs.new Governor, 282.
Discovered by Cook in
1744, 283. Emigration of
Pitcairn people to Norfolk
Island, 283
Horses, 290
Houses, 290
Inlay work, 291
Kumara, or sweet potato, 289
Lemons, 292
Manners, 288-289
Melons, 292
Mount Pitt, 289
Music, 287
Natives
descendants, 287-288
manners, 288-289
women, Tahitians, 280, 286
287
Nepean Island, 291
New Hebrides, 291
New South Wales, 286
Nobbs, new governor, 282
Onions, 290
Oranges, 292
Passion-fruit, 291
Peaches, 291
Pheasants, 290
Philip Island, 291
Pigs, 292
Pines, 290
Pitcairn, named after midship-
man who first sighted it,
281, 282, 287, 293
Plague, 279
Population, 279, 286
FIJI AND ITS POSSIBILITIES
315
Potatoes, 289
Prison, 283-284
Products
bananas, 292
bread-fruit trees, 280
cattle, 290
corn, 289
grapes, 291
guavas, 291
horses, 290
kumara, or sweet potato,
289
melons, 292
onions, 290
oranges, 292
passion-fruit, 291
peaches, 291
pheasants, 290
pigs, 292
potatoes, 289
quail, 290
strawberries, 292
sugar, 288
tea, 288, 289
tobacco, 287
Quails, 290
Roads, 285
Schools, 284
Sickness
cancer, 293
consumption, 293
plague, 279
Size, 279
Solomons, 291
Stained-glass windows by
Burne- Jones, 291
Storehouses, 284
Strawberries, 292
Sugar, 288
Suicide, epidemic, 283
Sydney, 279, 288
Tahiti, 280, 281
Tahitians, 280, 286, 287
Tasmania, 283
Tea, 288, 289
Tennis, 289, 292
Timor, Dutch East Indies, 280
Tobacco, 287
Victoria, Queen, 285
Whale-oil, 288
Whalers, 288, 290
Whaling industry, 289
Widows, 290
Women, 280, 280, 387
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