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TWO YEARS AMONG NEW
GUINEA CANNIBALS

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TWO HEW GUINEA DAXDIB&

They are naiives of Dir.awa. Notice their ticht-laced w.ii-N WOi the n«*e ornaments (chimanU g|

polished shell.

TWO YEARS

AMONG NEW GUINEA
CANNIBALS

A Naturalist's Sojourn among the Aborigines
of Unexplored New Guinea

A. E. PRATT

Gill Memorialist, Royal Geographical Society, 1891
Author of "To the Snows of Tibet through China," etc.

With Notes and Observations by his Son
HENRY PRATT
And Appendices on the Scientific Results of the Expedition

With 5Jf. Illustrations and a Map

PHILADELPHIA
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY

LONDON : SEELEY & CO. Ltd.
1906

Printed by BaLUKTTM, HaSSO* 6* Co.
At the Ballantyne Presi

MY WIFE

COMPANION, PRESENT OR ABSENT
OF MY MANY WANDERINGS

PREFACE

This record of two years' scientific work in the only
country of the globe that has still escaped exploration
purposely avoids the dry detail of a Natural History
Keport, such as might properly be submitted to a learned
society, and is intended rather to set forth to the
general reader the vicissitudes of the traveller's daily
life in unknown New Guinea, or Papua as I prefer to
call it. Every hour brought a new interest, and it
was with the intention of trying to communicate
some impression of that wonderful land in which we
sojourned, that the present account has been under-
taken. If the result is disappointing to the reader,
the fault must lie with the writer and not with Papua.

During my brief residences in the known parts of
New Guinea, I received much kind assistance and
furtherance in my marches into the wilds from
officials, missionaries, and settlers, and I would here
especially acknowledge my indebtedness to his
Excellency the Lieutenant-Governor, Mr. G. Euthven
Le Hunte, Mr. A. Musgrave, C.B., Captain Barton,
the Hon. D. Ballantine, Mr. Kobert Hislop, and
Mr. James Wood ; His Grace Archbishop Navarre,
Coadjutor Bishop de Boismenu, both of the Sacred

PREFACE

Heart Mission ; Dr. Laws and the Rev. H. Dauncey
of the London Missionary Society.

The Dutch officials to whom I am under deep
obligations are Mr. Kroesen, the Resident of Merauke,
Mr. M. C. Schadee, the Controller, and also the
captain of the gunboat Neas.

For permission to reprint the section on the
Lakatois and several other passages I am indebted
to the Wide World Magazine, and the chapter on
44 British Trade Prospects in New Guinea " is given
by consent of the British Trade Journal.

My particular acknowledgments are due to Messrs.
G. H. Kendrick, Mr. G. T. Bethune Baker, F.L.S.,
and Miss Wilmott, without whose help the expedition
could not have been undertaken, and I must also
mention Mr. S. H. Soper, F.RG.S., another friend
whose interest and assistance was of the greatest value
to me.

A. E. P.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I

BREAKING THE GROUND

The Author's many Journeys — New Guinea more Interesting than
all — The Second Largest Island in the World, and the last to
Guard its Secrets from Man — Its Vast Possibilities to the
Trader and the Man of Science — Great Riches in Birds and In-
sects— 770 known Species of Birds — The People — Their Many
Dialects — A Geographical Reason for this — Toilsome Travel —
Razor-like Ridges in Endless Succession — The Author's
Camps — Journeys Outlined — In Unexplored Country —
Gorgeous Scenery — Variations of Temperature — The Chief
Bugbear, Transport

CHAPTER II

DISAPPOINTMENTS IN DUTCH NEW GUINEA

Dutch New Guinea — The Coast — Unsavoury Mud-banks — Merauke
— The Dutch Settlement described — Its Wonderful Modernity
— A Fierce Tribe, the Tugeri, now described for the first
time — Their Appearance and Habits — Their Continual Mur-
derous Raids — The Fearful Bamboo Knife — Scientific Work
here impossible owing to Danger of going beyond Settlement
Boundaries — Outbreak of a Mysterious Disease at Merauke —
Its Swift Deadliness — The Symptoms — Determine to leave
Dutch New Guinea and prepare for a March into the Un-
explored Interior

CHAPTER III
CHANGES AND STRANGE SCENES

CONTENTS

TAQM

Post of Port Moresby described — A Good Second to Hades
or Aden — The Great Sight of Port Moresby — A Community
of Hereditary Potters— The Pottery Trading Fleet— The
Strange Vessels called Lakatois — Their Structure— Native
Orgies before the Expedition starts — A New Guinea Ballet
on Deck — Seclusion of Women after the Young Braves depart
with the Fleet— My Inland Expedition fitted out — Official
Courtesy — Details of Baggage — Transport procured after
Immense Trouble S9

CHAPTER IV

WE STRIKE INLAND

We start Inland — Friendly Natives but Hostile Mosquitoes — Bio to
Creek — Bioto— Guest Houses — A Splendid Game Region —
Daily Migration of Flocks of Pigeons — Greedy Coast Natives
— Carriers Inadequate — A Double Journey in Relays — We
meet the Chief Mavai. a great Papuan Character — Mavai's
Way of Life — His Harom — His Western Notions — His
Trousers — His Red Coat — His Severe Discipline — As we
proceed, Construction of Native Houses more elaborate— On
to Ekeikei and Dinawa — March through Wet Vegetation —
Tortured by Leeches and an Abominable Parasite, the
Scrub-Itch — A Gloomy Forest — Magnificent Orchids — Carriers
stimulate Laggard Comrades with Nettles — The Aculama
River — I discover a New Fish ... Si

CHAPTER V

THE FIRST CAMP

Journey continued — A Glorious Scarlet Creeper — Dinawa — Site
for Camp selected — Building Camp — Native Assistance-
Organisation for Scientific Work — Daily Routine— Teaching
the Natives how to Catch and Handle Entomological Speci-
mens— Sudden Affluence leads one of my Native Boys to
Desert — He is Caught and Reformed — My best Native
Assistant and his Wife — Female Influence a great Asset with
other Women — The Day's Work — Collecting at Night-
Photography — A Dark Room in the Wilds— Native Interest
in Developing 105

CONTENTS

CHAPTER VI
VICISSITUDES AND A DIGRESSION

PAGE

The Drought affects our Work — Butterflies begin to Fail — Forest
Fires — We descend to the St. Joseph River — A Temporary
Camp — A Wonderful Native Suspension Bridge — River
Scenery — Native Methods of Fishing — Dull Weather and
Little Success in Collecting — A Comic Incident — A Native
besieged by a Wild Pig — War — Native Hostility — A Chief
threatens to Cook and Eat our Heads — Strict Guard kept on
Camp — The Bird of Paradise — Papuan Game Laws — Natives'
Interest in Writing — Further Stay at the St. Joseph imprac-
ticable— A Flood destroys our Bridge — A Visit to a Native
Village — Curious Means of Ingress — Return to Dinawa — My
Cingalese Headman's Experiences — He evades Native
Treachery — Sudden Growth of New Township . . . .125

CHAPTER VII

GOOD-BYE TO DINAWA

A Beautiful New Orchid discovered and described — Drought con-
tinues— Sufferings of the Natives — I practise as a Physician
— Queer Native Diagnosis — Gaberio, an Intelligent Native,
goes collecting on his own account — How we kept touch
— The Wireless Telegraph of the Wilds — We determine to
take our Specimens to the Coast — Methods of Preservation
and Packing — Gaberio returns — He tells of the Murder of
one of his Boys — Hardships of Camp Life — Food and Ammuni-
tion fail — We try Cockatoo Soup — -A Visit from a Fine Hill
Tribe, the Ibala — They brighten the Last Days of our Stay —
Gorgeous Sunsets at Dinawa — The Ibala People return
according to Contract to act as Carriers — We depart — Trials
of the March to the Coast — A Mishap at Sea — Our Fine
Herbarium ruined with Salt Water — Port Moresby once again 141

CHAPTER VIII
INACTION AND AN EXCURSION

1 1

CONTENTS

Hood's Bay — Traces of Initiatory Rites at Kalo — The Kalo
Houses described — On to Kerapuna — A Shooting Expedition
— We lose the Trail — Class Distinctions at Kerapuna —
Return to Port Moresby by Sea — A Perilous Voyage in a
Little Canoe — Tragic Death of Flood, the Naturalist . .165

CHAPTER IX

TOWARDS THE UNEXPLORED

Beginning of Furthest Journey into Unexplored Interior — The
Everlasting Question of Carriers — Difficulties and Delays —
Epa again — Curious Method of Water Supply — Mavai wel-
comes us back — He provides a Dubious Treat — Ekeikei — The
Building of a Permanent Camp — An Elaborate Undertak-
ing— House-building on a Large Scale — Ingenious Papuan
Methods of Thatching — The Chief Kafulu proves Unneigh-
bourly— He does not fulfil his Engagements — Ow-bow's Em-
bassy— My Deputy is robbed — Precautions in Camp against
Attack — I go down to Kafulu and deal faithfully with him
— He relents, and restores Ow-bow's Goods — An Earthquake
and Hurricane at Ekeikei 183

CHAPTER X

UPS AND DOWNS

My man Sam goes to the Kebea to collect — We go to the Coast
again with our Specimens — A Dreadful Night in Bioto Creek
— A Crocodile River — A Tempestuous Voyage to Thursday
Island — Fever — Return to Port Moresby — Adrift for Three
Days in a Heavy Sea — A German Captain's Thrilling Story of
the Storm — We return to Ekeikei — A New Trouole — Epi-
demic of Measles among Native Followers — Harry goes off
alone among Cannibals — Adventurous Journey of a Boy of
Sixteen — Description of Native Village on a 1 5 -inch- wide Ridge 201

CHAPTER XI

A BOY OF SIXTEEN ALONE WITH CANNIBALS

Further into the Mountains — A Murder — The Settlement of the
Blood Price— A Pig for a Life — Harry's Further Adventures
alone among Cannibals — Various other Murders — The Village
of Amana — A Tree House — The Lunatic at Amana — Foula

— A Pretty Village 221

I 2

CONTENTS

CHAPTER XII
THE UNEXPLORED: AMONG PAPUAN PEAKS

PAGE

Still Higher in the Owen Stanley Range — The Road to Mafulu —
Beauties of the Forest — The Hill Step — Curious Habit of
Walking acquired in Abrupt Ground — Cold at High Altitudes
— A New Camp built — Alpine Signs in Insects and Flowers —
Routine Work — Food runs low again — Native Thieves —
Followers discontented — They fear the Hostile Mafulu People
— Daily Threats of Desertion — Strict Watch — My Rule for
Night Visitors — Compulsory Carrying of Torches and Dis-
arming— Weirdly Picturesque Night Scenes — Further Priva-
tions— Bird of Paradise Soup — Ugh! — Decide to depart —
Natives burn down Camp to ensure our going . . . .241

CHAPTER XIII

LAST JOURNEY TO THE COAST

A Dangerous Stream-Crossing — Babooni — Sunshine once more —
Successful Work — Poor Fare — Messengers to Ekeikei — The
Tree-Cabbage — Method of Cooking Tree-Cabbage — A Great
Curiosity — Spiders' Webs as Fishing-Nets — Dancing Festivals
— Back to the Kebea — Our Bean Crop — A Papuan Parliament
— We obtain Credit — A Wife-Beater — My only Act of Perfidy —
The Journey to Ekeikei — Back to the Land of Plenty — Last
Visit to Epa — Mavai unfriendly — He is talked over and
supplies Carriers — Example better than Precept — The Coast
again — An Accident — The Natives drink Sea- Water — Good-
bye to the Mountaineers 259

CHAPTER XIV

A FORTY-MILE TRAMP BY THE SHORE

A Comfortless Voyage — A Forty-Mile Tramp along the Coast —
Wonders of the Beach — Armies of Soldier-Crabs — A Crocodile
River — A Dangerous Canoe Voyage — At Port Moresby— A
Pathetic Incident — Last Days of our Stay in New Guinea . 279

CHAPTER XV

NATIVE MANNERS AND CUSTOMS

The Papuan at Home — His Good Points — Physical Characteristics
— Ceremonial Dress — Coast and Hill Tribes — Differences —
Local Distribution of the Rami or Petticoat — Its Decrease
in Length in the Mountains — Its Disappearance at Epa —

CONTENTS

Dandyism — The Priceless Chimani — The Shell Armlet —
Household Constitution — Rudimentary Government — Court-
ship and Marriage — The Price of a Wife — Position of Women
— Six Ways of Carrying an Infant — Meal Times — Weapons —
Clubs — Their Manufacture the Monopoly of One Tribe— Weird
Tribal Dances 289

CHAPTER XVI

BURIAL, WITCHCRAFT, AND OTHER THEMES

A Short-lived Race — An Aged Man a Curiosity — Burial Customs —
The Chief Mourner painted Black — Period of Mourning brief
except for the Chief Mourner — No Belief in Natural Death —
Poison always Suspected — Religion all but absent — Vague
Belief in Magic — Fin, a Form of Divination — How practised —
Its Utter Childishness — No Idea of Number — Forest Warnings
— " Wada," another Form of Sorcery — Mavai's Hideous
Magical Compounds — A People seemingly without History
or Legends — Pictures understood — Fear of the Stereoscope —
The "Bau-bau" or Social Pipe — How Made and Smoked —
Incidents of Travel — The Stinging Trees — Ideas of Medicine
— Sovereign Remedies — Bleeding — How practised — Hunting
— The Corral — A Strange Delicacy — Story of Native Trust in
Me — A Loan of Beads — Children and their Sports — Thirty
Ways of Cat's-Cradle 309

CHAPTER XVII

A NOTE ON BRITISH TRA1)E| PROSPECTS IN
NEW GUINEA

Sandalwood — The Sea Slug — Copra and Cocoa-Nut — Coffee —
Cocoa — Chil 1 ies — Rubber — Stock-Rai sing — G ol d — Tobacco —
Imports — German Enterprise — Our Lost Coaling Station . 333

CHAPTER XVIII

NOTES ON SOME BIRDS OF NEW GUINEA

The Birds of Paradise — Remarkable Species observed— Native
Names — Play-Places — Curious Habits — The Bower-Bird :
Artist, Architect, and Gardener 345

APPENDICES 351

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Two New Guinea Dandies .... Frontispiece

PAGE

Lakatois Preparing to Sail .21

The Bower-Bird . ■ . . .27

Guarding the Workers 33

Tugeri Natives . . .41

The Native Method of Tree-Climbing . . . .47

A Lakatoi and a House on Piles 55

Sam and his Wife 63

Hanuabada Girls Dancing 69

Girls Dancing on a Lakatoi 75

Epa Village . 85

Ekeikei Natives . 91

The Camp at Ekeikei 97

Native Collectors . .101

Hill Natives at Dinawa 109

Doboi, our Native Cook 115

The Native Village of Dinawa . . . . .121

Fishing on the St. Joseph River 131

A Rough Bridge . . . . . . . . 137

Native Women at Dinawa . . . . . .145

The Wireless Telegraphy of New Guinea . . .149

Natives of Enumaka . 155

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Vegetation at Dinawa 161

A Piebald People 169

A House at Kalo 1 j j

The Villages of Elevada and Hanuabada . . .187

New Guinea House Building 193

The Primeval Forest 197

Polling Lakatois 205

Houses at Hanuabada 209

A Deserted Village 215

Harry Pratt 225

Camp in the Owen Stanley Range 231

Two Views of a Native Bridge 237

Camp in the Owen Stanley Range 245

Unknown Species Discovered by the Author . . .251

The Author and some Native Collectors . . 255

A Spider's Web Fishing-Net 263

FiSHiNo wrrn Spiders' Web Nets 269

A Weird Tribal Dance 275

A Sea Coast Scene 283

Hanuabada Women Wearing the Rami . 293

Buying a Wife 299

New Guinea Weapons and Implements .... 305

Young Natives and Women Carriers . . . • 313

Smoking the Bau-Bau 319

A New Guinea Hunt 327

Hauling up a Log 337

CHAPTER I

BREAKING THE GROUND

The Author's many Journeys — New Guinea more interesting
than all — The Second Largest Island in the World, and the last
to guard its Secrets from Man — Its Vast Possibilities to the
Trader and the Man of Science — Great Riches in Birds and
Insects — 770 known Species of Birds — The People — Their
many Dialects — A Geographical Reason for this — Toilsome
Travel — Razor-like Ridges in Endless Succession — The
Author's Camps — Journeys Outlined — In Unexplored Country
— Gorgeous Scenery — Variations of Temperature — The Chief
Bugbear, Transport.

TWO YEARS AMONG NEW
GUINEA CANNIBALS

CHAPTER I
BREAKING THE GROUND

In the course of thirty years of almost continuous
journeyings in both hemispheres, it has been my
fortune to stray far from the beaten tracks and to
know something of the spell and mystery of the
earth's solitudes. My work in quest of additions
to the great natural history collections, both public
and private, of England, and to a less extent of
France, has led me to the Rocky Mountains, the
Amazons, the Republic of Colombia, the Yangtse
gorges, and the snows of Tibet ; but it is safe to
say that none of these has aroused my interest and
curiosity in so great a degree as the scene of my
latest and my next expedition, the still almost un-
explored Papua, second largest of the world's islands,
and almost the last to guard its secrets from the
geographer, the naturalist, and the anthropologist.

Fifty years ago, schoolboys, looking at their map
of Africa, blessed the Dark Continent for an easy
place to learn. A few names fringed the coast:
inland nearly all was comprehended under the cheerful
word " unexplored. " Such in great measure is the

BREAKING THE d HOUND

case with New Guinea to-day. Its 300,000 square
miles of territory, held by Great Britain, Germany,
and the Netherlands, and now lying fallow, are
destined in the course of the next half-century to
enrich the worlds of commerce and of science to a
degree that may to some extent be forecast by what
is already known of very restricted areas. What
New Guinea may become to the trader is outlined
later in the present volume, merely, be it noted, from
the outside observer's point of view, but this of
course has in it a large measure of uncertainty,
contingent on conditions of

44 Labour and the changing mart and all the framework

of the land."

Be this as it may, one thing remains sure, the
extraordinary value of Papua to the man of science,
particularly to the entomologist and the ornithologist.
In the department of ornithology alone, we already
know of 770 different species of birds inhabiting the
mainland and the islands, which places it in this respect
far above Australia, which, with a superficial area nine
times greater, possesses less than 500 species in all.

The ethnologist, too, has in Papua a happy
hunting ground ; for the tribes on the fringe of
exploration present wonderful varieties of type, and
as the mountain fastnesses of the interior are gradually
opened up, there can be no doubt that rich material
for the propounding of new problems and perhaps
the solution of old ones will come to light. Language
is curiously diversified : here you meet a tribe with
a distinct speech, and camping near them for a time
you learn the common currency of their tongue ; a

BREAKING THE GROUND

few miles further on appears another people, perhaps
not greatly differing in type, but with another language
altogether. Thus at Dinawa, where we were en-
camped for five months on the foot-hills of the
Owen Stanley range, the native phrase for "Make
up the fire " was " Aloba di " ; while at Foula, only
eighteen miles away as the crow flies, but far further
on foot, the phrase ran " Aukida pute." It is in
the statement " far further on foot," of course, that
the main reason of this linguistic variation is chiefly
to be found ; for travel in the Papuan highlands
is extraordinarily toilsome, owing to the exceeding
abruptness of the configuration, and the endless
succession of almost razor-like ridges. Thus the
tribes are confined to narrow areas. Long rough
ascents and descents and devious windings are the
portion of the wayfarer who wishes to reach some
spot that may even be visible from his last halting-
place. This experience, and our entire dependence
on native carriers to transport our heavy baggage,
with the various contretemps and difficulties besetting
the conduct of such a caravan, tempted me at one
time to call this book " Ups and Downs in Papua,"
as being at once literally and metaphorically true
and descriptive.

Despite the difficulty of migration, however, it
is certain that had our mission been one of explora-
tion pure and simple we could, during our two years'
sojourn, have traversed a far more extensive region
than we did. But our first concern was the examina-
tion of the butterflies, moths, and birds of the Owen
Stanley range, and that within particular and some-

BREAKING THE GROUND

what restricted areas, so that our work necessitated
encamping sometimes for months at a time at one
particular spot, in order that the collection and pre-
servation of our specimens might be carried on
under the most advantageous conditions possible in
such a wilderness. To this end we built two perma-
nent camps, one at Dinawa, and the other at Ekeikei,
at altitudes of 3600 and 1500 feet respectively. From
these bases we made short expeditions in various
directions, and established temporary camps on the
St. Joseph River, Mount Kebea, and finally at Mafalu,
our highest point of attainment, 6000 feet above the
level of the sea among the fastnesses of the Owen
Stanley range. Hut even that altitude is com-
paratively insignificant in the magnificent highlands
of Papua. The higher we rose it was only to catch
sight of still loftier ranges that piled peak on peak
as far as the eye could reach. The only one of
these that has as yet been trodden by the white man
is Mount Victoria, which rises to a height of 13,000
feet. This was made the objective of a special
expedition by Sir William Macgregor, who recently
crossed British New Guinea, a journey which took
him fifty-one days to accomplish. Sir William has
also explored the Fly Kiver tentatively, and D'Albertis
followed its course for 600 or 700 miles ; but when
these achievements are mentioned, one has exhausted
nearly all the serious efforts that have been made
in Papuan exploration. Within the last year the
Netherlands officials have issued a map that makes
many valuable additions to our knowledge of the
topography of the coast-line of their territory.

BREAKING THE GROUND

It may make for clearness in following my journeys
if the reader will at this point submit for a moment
to the drudgery of a brief examination of the map,
for my trail exhibits various doublings backwards and
forwards, and consequently exposes the narrative to the
risk of confusion, unless the main outline of the itine-
rary be followed. It had been my intention to work
first in Dutch New Guinea, but various accidents, and
the hostility of a warlike tribe, brought these plans to
an untimely end, and I had to spend the greater part
of my time within the borders of the British posses-
sion. Port Moresby, the British Government station,
consequently became my main base of operations, and
it was in a north-westerly and south-easterly direction
from that settlement that my journeyings lay. On the
first of these I went by sea from Port Moresby north-
west to Yule Island, separated from the mainland by
Hall Sound, and then I struck up the Ethel River as
far as Oofafa, where we began our march into the
interior. The chief points of the route as noted on
the map were Epa and Ekeikei, Madui, and then on
to Dinawa, where we established our first camp, and
settled down for five months' work, which included
a short expedition to the St. Joseph Eiver. Keturn-
ing to Port Moresby, and having some time to spare,
I and my son went down the coast 75 miles to the
south-east, partly on foot, partly by boat, by way of
Tupeselae, Kappa-kappa, Kalo, and Kerapuna, as far
as Hood's Bay, a journey rather of observation than
of exploration, for the region is within the sphere
of missionary enterprise, and cannot be regarded as
altogether unknown, although the geographer has not

BREAKING THE GROUND

yet by any means had his last word upon it. Reach-
ing Port Moresby by a reversal of the same route, we
returned once more to Yule Island, and struck inland
by way of Mekeo and Epa to Ekeikei, where we built
our second and most elaborate camp, which served us
as the base for our furthest journey to Mount Kebea,
and thence inland by way of Googoolee, Cooloo-coolu,
Babooni, Amana, Foula, and Avola, to Mafalu, our
highest point.

It may be worth while noting that as soon as we
had passed Bioto Creek on the Ethel River, existing
maps ceased to be of use to us, and with the exception
of a few vaguely indicated mountains, presented a com-
plete blank. Such outlines of topography as we have
filled in give in every case the native name of the
place. The fashion of rechristening localities, although
often complimentary to European explorers and their
friends, pastors, masters, and disciples, and probably
commemorative of a discovery, seems to me always to
sever an interesting link with the country under exami-
nation. For this reason I prefer the melodious native
name Papua to its western supplanter New Guinea.

Our chief movements inland may comprehensively
be taken to lie within a region bounded by a radius
of 50 miles around Delana on Hall Sound. On enter-
ing the unexplored region we found ourselves at first
in a flat, swampy country, intersected by a few tiny
creeks, some not more than two feet wide, running
through grass. We next passed the eucalyptus belt
and then came the forest proper, in which the trees
were at first set in isolated patches. Undergrowth
there was, but it did not attain any density, and at

BREAKING THE GROUND

intervals we could trace the trails of the sandalwood
cutter. Not long after leaving Oofafa we found a
rocky eminence, from which we enjoyed a lovely view
of the entire Bioto Creek winding between a dense
border of mangroves, the vivid green of which marked
the course of the inlet, even when the shimmer of the
water in the sunlight was entirely veiled by the over-
hanging vegetation. Beyond lay the broader waters
of Hall Sound, bounded by the wooded shores of Yule
Island, and to the west we could descry Nicora, a small
village on a hill of red clay. The vista was closed by
the sea, and in the clear atmosphere the picture was
one to be remembered. We then entered a flat tract,
an apparent plateau, at a height of iooo feet, and
for a time travelling was over comparatively easy
ground, but at Epa the forest and our difficulties
began in earnest. Henceforward we had to depend
on one or two trails very difficult to follow, and hills
and valleys became continuous. Fifteen miles inland
lay before us a line of rugged peaks, whither we were
bound, but many more miles than fifteen would have
to be covered before we reached them. Further off
still towered Mount Yule, our first glimpse of the
Papuan Alps. Passing Ekeikei we entered the region
of ridges, often scarcely twelve inches wide, and afford-
ing only the most precarious foothold. The path as
we rose became still more rugged, and was crossed by
numerous creeks. Then the character of the forest
changed, and we traversed damp and gloomy tracts,
where the thick vegetation excluded the sunlight.
The track at this point skirted vast and threatening
precipices. At Madui we encountered peaty and

BREAKING THE GROUND

spongy ground, thickly interwoven with roots, which
impeded our progress and made the advance peculiarly
toilsome, and the last stage to Dinawa was a long dip
and a longer ascent. Once there, however, we were
rewarded by a delightfully bracing climate and a
glorious panorama of mountain scenery, a delight we
often longed for at Mafalu, our furthest and highest
point, where all view, save through an opening we
ourselves cut in the trees, was denied us. Even that
was generally obscured, so incessant was the rain and
wetting mist. At favourable moments, however, we
would see through our clearing the sunlight in the
valley far below us, although we ourselves, dwelling
as we did among the clouds, were denied that boon.

Such then, in brief outline, were the changes of
scenery through which we passed. The alternations
of climate were not less varied. In Dutch New
Guinea it was very hot and humid, often 1 500 F. in
the sun and no° in the shade. On " cool" nights
we had temperatures varying from 75 0 to 8o°. At
Port Moresby 160° was no uncommon temperature,
and this was rendered worse by the lack of shade and
the stony, arid country. The great heat begins to be
felt about 11 a.m., and lasts until 3 p.m. during the
season of the N.W. monsoon. The atmosphere is, how-
ever, fairly dry at times, and the highest temperature
is not nearly so unendurable as I have found 900 in
the shade at Manaos, at the confluence of the Amazon
and the Bio Negro, where the air is saturated, and
one sits mopping oneself continually and praying for
sunset, although even that brings but slight relief.
This never happens at Port Moresby, where there is

BREAKING THE GROUND

sometimes a pleasantly cool evening. Towards night-
fall the S.E. monsoon dies away, and the same holds
good for Yule Island and Hood's Bay. For some
distance inland these conditions prevail, but after
Ekeikei (1500 feet) there is a decided change. Con-
siderable humidity prevails in the forest, and although
at midday the heat is scarcely less oppressive than on
the coast, yet the traveller is sustained by the pros-
pect of relief, for the evenings are deliciously cool.
The average day, too, was not unbearably hot at
these higher altitudes. In the neighbourhood of the
Deeanay precipice, owing to the dense forest and the
plentiful streams, it is quite cool all day, and at
Dinawa (3600 feet), although we have recorded noon
temperatures of 1200 in the sun, the average at 4 a.m.
was from 630 to 65 °. Winds were infrequent, but at
night there was a brief land breeze from the higher
mountains.

On the Kebea the climatic conditions are very
similar, but there is more mist, and in the morning
the valleys are filled with great masses of white
rolling cloud, which rise and disappear as the sun
gains power. These vapours sometimes assume a
perfectly level surface, so that they resemble an ocean
or a vast plain of snow, through which the higher
peaks rise like islands. At Mafalu the average tem-
perature was down to 590 F. at nights, and highest in
day 8o° under the leafage of the forest, and mist and
rain were almost continual from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m.
As the sun sank the heavens would clear, and the mist
floated past in thin wreaths, or lay still in long, ghostly
trails if no wind blew. The nights were often cold,

BREAKING THE GROUND

and these altered conditions were not without their
visible effect on animated nature, for at Mafalu the
insects changed, and we secured a fine selection of
Lepidoptera we had not met with before.

This brief sketch of the configuration and condi-
tions of the country through which we travelled may,
I trust, serve as a key to the more detailed account
of our journey, and with the directions and altitudes
thus succinctly placed before him, the reader may
possibly find it easier to follow us up hill and down
dale. There is one more point I would venture to
impress upon him, a point which will recur again and
again — he may fancy ad nauseam — the difficulties of
transport in Papua. But that was the main crux of our
experience, and its importance can hardly be realised
by one who has not undergone similar troubles. You
are entirely in the hands of the natives, without
whom you cannot stir a foot. All your impedimenta,
your food, stores, scientific implements, and " trade "
(material for barter, the equivalent of ready money)
must go on the backs of your cannibal friends, a
people without organisation, who are hard to collect
and hard to persuade to follow you. It is necessary
to rely on yourself to secure followers, though here
and there a chief may aid you. One such, the greatest
" character " we encountered in Papua, will be intro-
duced to the reader at the proper place. On the
march continual apprehension besets the traveller lest
his carriers bolt, for if this happened in the interior
he would be done for, and he would have a terrible
business to get out of the country, if indeed he got
out at all. Hence the reason why I have dwelt on

GUARDING THE WORKERS.

Cultivated ground is generally some distance from the villages. It is tilled by young women,
- r who are guarded by young natives armed with spears.

BREAKING THE GROUND

our perpetually recurring difficulties with carriers, for
the natives were veritably our staff and scrip ; and had
these failed us at a crucial moment, our expedition
would have broken down utterly, to the great loss of
those who had risked much on the undertaking.

On the commission of several friends, all scientific
enthusiasts, whom I have named elsewhere, I and my
son Harry, a lad of sixteen, left England in January
1 90 1, and sailed eastward on board the Duke of
Sutherland to Thursday Island, whence we proceeded
on board the Netherlands gunboat Neas to Dutch New
Guinea. My brief stay there, and the disappointments
that led to my seeking a different field of operations,
form the subject of the following chapter.

CHAPTER II

DISAPPOINTMENTS IN DUTCH
NEW GUINEA

Dutch New Guinea — The Coast — Unsavoury Mud-banks —
Merauke — The Dutch Settlement described — Its Wonderful
Modernity — A Fierce Tribe, the Tugeri, now described for the
First Time — Their Appearance and Habits — Their Continual
Murderous Raids — The Fearful Bamboo Knife — Scientific
Work here impossible owing to Danger of going beyond
Settlement Boundaries — Outbreak of a Mysterious Disease at
Merauke — Its Swift Deadliness — The Symptoms — Deter-
mine to leave Dutch New Guinea and prepare for a March
into the Unexplored Interior.

CHAPTER II

DISAPPOINTMENTS IN DUTCH NEW GUINEA

As we approached the shores of Dutch New Guinea,
we first descried low-lying tracts of marshy land. To
the water's edge came tall trees loaded with orchids
of the most brilliant hues and of many varieties,
notably the Dendrobium. The mangrove swamps, else-
where so common in New Guinea, were here entirely
absent. Under the trees, close even to the waters
brink, could be seen a dense tangled undergrowth.
There was no beach, only muddy shores. At low tide
the water recedes, probably for a quarter of a mile,
leaving hard mud flats capable of sustaining men bare-
foot. During the winter monsoon a heavy surf would
break on these flats, but we arrived in fine weather,
and the water was perfectly calm.

Of course, the Neas could not go inshore, but
had to stand off to a distance of at least ten miles,
and we had to land by the boat. A prominent feature
of the landscape was a great spreading tree, which the
Dutch sailors had taken as their chief bearing for find-
ing the mouth of the Merauke River. Had the hostile
natives only known how the access to their jealously
guarded territory depended upon that one landmark,
it would certainly not have been allowed to stand
long. These characteristic shores fringe the mouth of
the Merauke River, which empties itself through a

39 c

DISAPPOINTMENTS

small estuary about three times as wide as the Thames
at Greenwich. It is navigable for about six miles,
and at the furthest end it so narrows that the vessel
could be put about only by a clever manoeuvre, during
which her bow and stern all but touched the banks.
With a small survey boat, however, such as the Neas,
drawing from 10 to 12 feet of water, the river may
be navigated for about 160 miles. From larger vessels
lying in the river off the new Dutch settlement of
Merauke, which was our point of arrival, it was usual
to land in a small dinghy.

A row of a few yards brought us to a primitive
staging, built on piles, supporting a floating platform
of logs, very slippery with the slime left by the river
at high tide. These treacherous logs were far enough
apart to permit of a man's slipping easily between them
into the unsavoury stream. Unsavoury indeed it was,
for the waters of the Merauke are blue with a greasy
alluvial deposit, closely resembling the "blue slipper"
so well known to geologists in the Isle of Wight.
The Dutch Settlement lay close to the landing-stage.
It presented a rough collection of houses and barracks
for the Netherlands troops. The largest building was
the barracks, a fairly well-built structure of wood,
capable of accommodating all the Dutch troops, a
force of about 150. The house of Mr. Kroesen,
who was at that time the Resident, was quite
an attractive building, with a glass roof and thin
bamboo walls hung with a few curtains. It contained
ten apartments, all on the ground floor. Next in
importance was the house of the Comptroller, Mr.
Schadee, which had only one apartment, with a large

DISAPPOINTMENTS

projecting roof and a fine verandah, under which the
Comptroller entertained his friends. A little distance
away were the open sleeping sheds of the Javanese
convicts who had been brought there to build the
Settlement and to drain the marsh.

It is curious that the Dutch always choose low-
lying spots for their settlements. Some instinct of
home seems to draw them to the flat lands, and better
sites at a loftier elevation are neglected. Merauke,
however, was chosen for another reason. The Dutch
had been good enough to make their Settlement here
to prevent the Tugeri from making raids on to the
British territory. The thoroughness of the Dutch
character, however, appears in the equipment of their
station. When I arrived at Merauke the Settlement
was only two months old, but it was already furnished
with every accessory of civilisation, even including
iron lamp-posts from Europe. It offered, in this
respect, a striking contrast to the old British Settle-
ment of Port Moresby. Merauke was built in a forest
clearing, and the Dutch had already laid out gardens
after the Netherlands pattern, and were raising vege-
tables in the coffee-coloured soil — the result of cen-
turies of alluvial deposit — a soil so rich and productive
that beans may be gathered three weeks after being
sown. The gardening is carried on entirely by the
civilians, the officers and men confining themselves
exclusively to their military duties. As the Settlement
had been established in the centre of a dangerous and
turbulent district, it was protected with barbed wire
defences and with a ring of block-houses on the land-
ward side. The state of unrest then prevailing pre-

DISAPPOINTMENTS

vented me from carrying on my scientific work. I
had come to Merauke to explore and collect in new
territory, but the long-standing difficulty with the
warlike Tugeri tribe was still acute, and the very day
after I landed we had abundant proof of how unwise
it would be to penetrate into the interior. On that
day three or four Javanese convicts who were working
on the edge of the clearing were heard to shout as
though in distress. In five minutes an armed guard
was on the spot, but all the convicts were found
decapitated by the head-hunting Tugeri. The heads
had been taken off with the bamboo knife so cleverly,
that the doctor on board our ship told me that no
surgeon with the latest surgical instruments could have
removed so many heads in so short a time.

This bamboo knife of the Tugeri is a very remark-
able weapon. It is simply a piece of cane stripped
off from the parent stem, leaving a natural edge as
keen as the finest tempered steel.

Nor was this the only outrage. A Chinese woman
had died, and had been buried in the graveyard near
the Settlement. The next morning the grave was
found to have been violated, the head taken, and all
the clothing removed. The Tugeri never showed
themselves all this time, but it was known that they
were watching Merauke from the dense screen of
undergrowth which came down to the edge of the
clearing.

British settlers on the western boundary of British
New Guinea have for a long time been harassed
by Tugeri raiders from the Dutch side, and the
Lieutenant-Governor's report for 1 899-1 900 contains

DISAPPOINTMENTS

an exhaustive account of the negotiations between
the British and Dutch authorities for the suppres-
sion of these outrages and the indemnification of suf-
ferers. In 1896 Sir William Macgregor undertook
a punitive expedition against the Tugeri, and at the
time believed that he had finally driven them out of
British territory ; but during a murderous raid on the
Sanana tribe, shortly before 1900, many persons were
killed and carried away. The chief result of the
negotiations, apart from the settlement of indemnity
and the undertaking of search for missing persons,
was the Dutch decision to appoint a resident official
for that part of their territory which adjoins the
British possessions. Hence the establishment of the
Merauke Settlement, and the appointment of Mr.
Kroesen to take charge of it. The Netherlands
Government has guaranteed a special sum for the
administration of Merauke, and the Dutch officers
there have also been authorised to correspond directly
with the British officers in the western division on
matters requiring their mutual attention, instead of, as
the Blue Book says, " by the circumlocutory channels
of their respective Governments.,,

My opportunities for observing the Tugeri were,
therefore, necessarily limited, but I am, I believe, the
first person who has made any study of this remarkable
tribe, and, as far as I am aware, they have remained
hitherto undescribed. They are a very numerous
people, inhabiting a tract of country extending as
far west as the Marianne Strait, and as far east
as the Fly River at longitude 141 °. Inland their
boundaries are unknown, but it is probable that they

DISAPPOINTMENTS

extend a considerable distance from the coast. They
are known to have co-terminous boundaries with the
Kewi people, from whom the British draw their police,
and who are first found at the mouth of the Fly
River.

The first to visit the Tugeri was a renegade
missionary, who had absconded with some of the
mission funds. He came upon the tribe by accident.
They captured him, took away his boat, his clothes,
and all that he possessed. Curiously enough they
did not kill him, but gave him a house and food. He
stayed with them on very friendly terms for about six
months, and was at length taken off by a schooner
which chanced to touch on the coast.

The second white man who observed them was
Captain Pym, who is said to have been the discoverer
of the Merauke River, and who was certainly one of
the first traders there.

The Tugeri are a fine race, very fierce, and abso-
lutely unspoiled by European vices. The men stand
about 5 feet 8 inches on an average, and are clean-
limbed, powerful fellows, capable of any amount of
endurance. As a race, they are broad-shouldered,
sinewy, and of enormous strength. No European can
draw their bow. This weapon is made of a longi-
tudinal section of the bamboo. Near the grip the
diameter is about 3^ inches, and the wood tapers at
each end to a diameter of f-inch. The string is of
twisted fibre, and the arrow, which is made of a reed,
carries to a distance of at least 300 yards. Like all
savages, they are admirable marksmen.

In the typical Merauke Tugeri the head is rather

THE NATIVE METHOD OF TREE CLIMBING.

DISAPPOINTMENTS

conical, and the forehead high but receding. The hair
is sparse, beginning well up on the cranium, and
falling in long strands to the middle of the back
beyond the shoulder blades. The hair is plaited with
grass and string, and from the plait at the back rises
a single osprey feather. The eyebrows are straight
and meeting, the eyes black, large, and heavy. The
nose is broad and flat, but with a prominent bridge, the
mouth degraded and fatuous, but the lips neither so
thick nor so protruding as the negro's. The ears lie
fairly flat to the head, and are not abnormally large.
The men wear an enormous ear ornament of bamboo
bent into an open ring. Round the periphery of this
ring the flesh of the lobe of the ear, previously per-
forated, is stretched in infancy, and as the individual
grows the natural spring of the bamboo stretches the
flesh more and more, until in manhood a loop is
formed big enough to hold a ring of at least 4 inches
in diameter. It is extraordinary how the tribesmen
contrive to move amidst the tangled forest without
hindrance from this abnormal expansion of the lobe,
the most unusual flesh decoration to be found amongst
mankind. When the bamboo is out the loop hangs
like a long pendant, a perfect skein of flesh, a pecu-
liarly hideous accessory of savage adornment. Some of
the Tugeri wear an apology for a beard, or rather two
scraggy tufts of hair depending from each side of the
chin. The use of pomatum in any form is unknown.
The teeth are strong and fairly regular, but perfectly
brown, owing to the habit of chewing the betel-nut.

For personal adornment the Tugeri wear two
crossed straps of dogs' teeth strung together with

DISAPPOINTMENTS

grass. Each strap is about 3 inches wide, and is
formed of nine parallel rows of teeth. The strap that
rests on the left shoulder passes under the right arm-
pit; that over the right shoulder passes outside the
left arm above the elbow. The straps are lightly
fastened at the point where they cross the breast.
Round the right arm, just above the elbow, they wear
a curious armlet. In the case of the richer tribesmen
this is of shell, decorated with grass, or of grass deco-
rated with shell. The breadth is from 5 to 6 inches.
On the stomach to the right are two or three hori-
zontal scars made by cutting or burning. These are
self-inflicted for superstitious reasons. The lower part
of the stomach is tightly drawn in (often extremely
tight) with a coil of finely plaited fibre. This seems
to be worn for elegance alone, and tight-lacing is a
ruling fashion among the Tugeri dandies : the tighter
the lacing the greater the dandy. From fifteen to
sixteen years of age the young men are hopeless
victims to fashion. The Tugeri go barefoot, but wear
grass anklets adorned with shells, which rattle like
castanets as they walk. I observed, however, no
dances, although these, I understand, are performed
in their villages. For decency's sake they wear a
shell after the manner of the statuesque fig-leaf, and
their costume is completed by a necklace of dogs'
teeth and small pieces of bone, such treasures as a
savage prizes.

Despite the natural ferocity of the Tugeri, the tribe
is not without some rudimentary notions of courtesy,
and they paid the Dutch on their arrival a similar
compliment to that paid to Captain Cook, that is to

5°

DISAPPOINTMENTS

say, they were good enough to offer to provide wives
for the sailors from among their own women. Certain
traders in British New Guinea are not above accepting
this civility, for the possession of a native woman is
often a valuable business asset. Some sandalwood
cutters, for example, frequently make these left-handed
marriages, for the mistress is influential in obtaining
workers for her husband from among her own people.
One sandalwood cutter, a Malay, who has made a large
fortune at his trade, could always obtain double the
number of labourers procurable by any other trader on
account of his liaison with a native woman, by whom
he has a large family. His numerous Papuan blood-
relations stand him in good stead in his business.

The houses of the Tugeri are built of grass and
bamboo. The walls rise to a height of about ten feet
and are covered with a span roof. I observed their
villages only from a distance, however, and never
accompanied the Dutch soldiers on any of their expe-
ditions. Some of the villages are very large, consisting
of two or three hundred houses. Near the townships
immense cocoanut plantations invariably occur, and
these seem to form the chief wealth of the Tugeri.

A strange part of the Tugeri's paraphernalia was
their extraordinary drums. The body of these, shaped
like a dice-box, was hewn out of a solid log, hollowed,
and curiously carved. Midway at the narrowest point
was a clumsy handle, also hewn from the log. The
drum heads are of lizard skin. The performer carries
the instrument by the handle in the left hand, and
beats with his right. The noise is prodigious.

The tribe domesticates the gaura. This bird has

DISAPPOINTMENTS

frequently been described by naturalists, but a short
account of it may not be inopportune here, as I was
fortunate in obtaining many good specimens of it.
The gaura is half as large again as the guinea-fowl,
and weighs from five to ten pounds. The beak is
longer than that of the ordinary pigeon, but is not
large in proportion to the bird. It has the ordinary
characteristics of the pigeon beak. The head is small,
the neck short, the body full and fleshy, and remarkably
fine eating. The back is broad and rounded, the legs
brightish red and characteristically those of the pigeon
breed. The plumage of the head is a bluish silver
grey with a fine crest of a lighter shade. The crest
feathers are very open in their branching. When
erected, the crest spreads out like a fan and makes a
noble display. The breast feathers are a rich maroon,
the wings and back a bluish slate colour. There are
white patches on the wings, which are tipped with
maroon. The tail feathers continue the shade of the
back until within two inches of the extremity, when
they are graduated into a lovely grey, almost matching
that of the crest. For all its fine looks it is a silly
bird, short and heavy of flight, and easily killed when
once found. The sportsman locates the gaura by its
booming sound.

My ten days' stay at Merauke was a time of strange
misfortune, and while there I had the unenviable
opportunity of observing a very serious outbreak of a
mysterious disease, which was said to be that deadly
beri-beri, which has lately been occupying the minds
of men of science. For some time there had been
isolated cases among the Javanese convicts, but about

DISAPPOINTMENTS

the second week in April the Dutch authorities became
greatly alarmed by the spread of the disease. Cases
were reported daily, and all proved fatal. At last the
deaths reached the terrible figure of 160 in ten days.
The victims were all Javanese, the officials and natives
went unscathed. The doctors of the Dutch Colony
were very able men, but no relief could be given to the
patient beyond administering anaesthetics. I question
whether it was rightly styled beri-beri, for in South
America, at Manaos on the Rio Negro, I have seen
cases of the disease among the Portuguese rubber
gatherers, but these bore no resemblance to the sick-
ness at Merauke. The sufferers in South America
were generally men who led isolated lives in the vast
forests of the Amazons, gathering the sap of the hevea
braziliensis, and living for long periods on bad food.
Victims of this type of beri-beri generally live for nine
months, and those of strong constitution and in whom
the swelling had not risen above the knees recovered.
If the patient lives the old life and continues the old
diet in the forest, the disease gradually ascends until
it gets above the knees, and then its course becomes
very rapid until it reaches the heart.

I myself caught beri-beri on the Eio Branco, and
first noted its presence by the discovery of a numb
spot about the size of a halfpenny on each ankle.
The Brazilian medical men assured me that nowhere
in South America could I hope to get better, and I
was ordered to quit the country at once. Before I
reached Havre the numbness was greatly reduced, the
affected patch being then the size of a farthing, and
two months after I reached home, it vanished. In

DISAPPOINTMENTS

Columbia I have observed exactly the same form of
the disease as on the Amazons.

In Merauke, however, sufferers from the so-called
beri-beri had no seizure of paralysis in the lower
extremities. It was always in the abdomen, and was
accompanied by the most excruciating agony. Death
usually came in four hours. There was no relief
from pain ; the intestines seemed to be knotted, the
patient's face was pale and agonised. He continually
moaned, strained forward and doubled his body. He
held his stomach with both hands, and occasionally
lay down and rolled, and as the end approached, the
intestines seemed to be forced upwards towards the
thorax, and there was great swelling. The doctors
tried poultices and fomentations in vain. They also
administered castor oil without affording any allevia-
tion of the suffering. Perfect consciousness remained
until the very end, and the last thing the patient
always asked for was fruit. Five minutes after
making this request, he was dead.

One evening we spent with Mr. Schadee on his
verandah, there was with us his Javanese clerk (not
a convict), who was enjoying his cigarette and ap-
parently in the best of health. The next morning
he was dead. Our carpenter on board the Van
Doom was carried off with equal suddenness, and
he, curiously enough, had never been on shore all
the time of the epidemic. The victims were always
buried within five hours. As to the communication
of infection, it is doubtful whether the disease was
due in each case to external causes, or whether once
having broken out it spread from man to man. The

DISAPPOINTMENTS

bad rice,1 on which the Javanese live, may have been
the cause. At the same time it may be noted, that
the convicts were working in the abominable blue
mud of the river. Another article of diet supplied to
the Javanese was dried fish, very ill cured, or rather not
cured at all, and most offensive to European nostrils.

The epidemic was very costly to the Netherlands
Government. The Van Swoll, a Dutch merchant-
man, laden with the necessary plant for establishing
a settlement, was at that time lying at Merauke.
After the beri-beri broke out, there was no labour
available to unload the vessel. Mr. Kroesen accord-
ingly decided to ship the surviving convicts on board
the Van Swoll, and send her back to Amboina. There
she placed the convicts in a sanatorium, and went on
to Timor to procure a fresh batch of convicts, who
were to return with her to Merauke and unload her.
The delay to the Van Swoll alone cost the Dutch
Government 800 guilders a day.

No doubt a settlement in a low miasmatic country
is in itself unfavourable, but I am inclined to attribute
the disease to bad diet. This so-called beri-beri occurs
also in the native princes' prisons in India, where the
food is very bad. I am disposed to believe that the
Javanese were rendered liable to attack, because their
blood had been impoverished by several years of poor
feeding before they came to Merauke, and that the
climate and worse food than they had had in Java made
them ready to receive the germs of the disease.

Such was my visit to Dutch New Guinea. The

1 Since these lines were written an eminent medical man, a specialist
on beri-beri, has publicly advanced this view. — E. A. P.

DISAPPOINTMENTS

hostility of the Tugeri and the prevalence of disease
rendered scientific work out of the question, and
accordingly after ten days I returned to Port Moresby,
there to secure means of transport for an expedition
into the interior of British New Guinea, where I
proposed to continue my studies of the Lepidoptera
peculiar to that region.

CHAPTER III

CHANGES AND STRANGE SCENES

We sail to Thursday Island — A Rough Voyage in a Cattle-boat
— A Glimpse of Thursday Island — The Wonderful Colour of its
Waters — We reach Port Moresby — Contrast to the Scenery of
Dutch New Guinea — Magnificent Mountains — Evidences of
Drought — Vegetation burnt up — The British Government Post
of Port Moresby described — A Good Second to Hades or Aden
— The Great Sight of Port Moresby — A Community of Heredi-
tary Potters — The Pottery Trading Fleet — The Strange Vessels
called Lakatois — Their Structure — Native Orgies before the
Expedition starts — A New Guinea Ballet on Deck — Seclusion
of Women after the Young Braves depart with the Fleet — My
Inland Expedition fitted out — Official Courtesy — Details of
Baggage — Transport procured after Immense Trouble.

CHAPTER III

CHANGES AND STRANGE SCENES

While I lay at Merauke on board the Van Doom,
the steamship Moresby was signalled. On this I
obtained a passage to Port Moresby, the seat of
government in British New Guinea, so I accordingly
bade farewell to Captain De Jong of the Van Doom,
and in due course we weighed anchor for Thursday
Island, at which the steamer was to touch on her
voyage. The Moresby could not approach Merauke
nearer than twelve miles, so we went out to her on
a small petrol launch. There happened to be a
tremendous swell on at the time, and when we came
alongside the Moresby we found that the deck of the
launch was often ten feet from the companion, and
we had to watch our opportunity to get on board.
It was quite half-an-hour before we succeeded.

We found our steamer by no means attractive.
She was most unsavoury on account of the cattle
carried for the ship's use. The cabins were below
and very hot, for the vessel had been built for a cool
climate, and was not at all suited for tropical trade.
She was an ordinary cargo boat, and could not usually
steam faster than eight knots an hour.

A run of twenty-four hours' duration brought us
to Thursday Island, one of the great centres of the
pearl fishery, where many nationalities congregate for

61 D

CHANGES AND STRANGE SCENES

the purposes of trade. The stores are kept for the
most part by Chinese, and Japanese and Chinese boats
call there on their way south to Sydney. The coasters
also make it a point of call as they pass from Brisbane
and Sydney on their way to the Gulf of Carpentaria
and Normanton, the great centre of the Eastern cattle
trade.

Thursday Island, so small a dot in the Eastern
Archipelago that the tiniest mark a geographer can
make on his map is widely out of proportion to its
size, rewards the traveller well for a visit. Although
one can walk round the island in an hour and a half,
the locality is full of interest, and the pearl fishery is
very engrossing for the observer. The boats of the
fishing fleet afford a most picturesque accessory to the
scene, and the harbour is full of life. Small boats
dart about everywhere, and there is a continual coming
and going. The large Chinese and Japanese steamers,
of from 6000 to 7000 tons burden, are continually
arriving at and leaving the Government wharf. The
Europeans are most agreeable and hospitable. The
sea round Thursday Island is a most wonderful colour
— in parts emeiald green and silver, deep blue varied
with light yellow and brcwn, and everywhere perfectly
clear. The tides, which at times flow with the
rapidity of a mill-race, have been studied, but are not
yet understood. They are tremendously erratic and
very dangerous. Sometimes they run at the rate of
seven milef an hour, and against this steamers can
make no headway. The Torres Straits indeed, as
far as Cairns, are the most dangerous seas in the
world. It is, of course, very warm in Thursday

CHANGES AND STRANGE SCENES

Island, but the heat is tempered by the most delight-
ful sea breezes. I could have enjoyed a longer stay
than twenty-four hours, but that was the limit of our
vessel's call, and we left next day for Port Moresby,
which we reached after a two days' run.

As we approached the coast we found that it pre-
sented a very striking contrast to that of Dutch New
Guinea. Here the mountains came close down to
the coast, which was rock-bound, but not cut to sheer
cliffs. Inland the mountain ranges ran parallel with
the shore line, range towering above range, as far
as the eye could see, the whole prospect dominated
by the magnificent peak of Mount Victoria, which
sprang aloft into the azure to a height of 13,121
feet. Viewed from the sea Mount Victoria appears
to culminate in a plateau, but Sir William MacGregor
declares that it is really a mass of peaks.

As we drew nearer to the shore we noted unmis-
takable evidence of the drought, which had just set
in, and which lasted for nine whole months. The
vegetation was entirely brown, and everything seemed
barren and burned up. The drought, it was said,
extended as far west as the Fly River, at the 141st
degree of longitude. Even at an altitude of 6000 feet,
as I found afterwards, lycopodiums, orchids, and para-
sites were falling off the trees, and this, too, within
the zone of humidity for New Guinea.

The approach to Port Moresby is dangerous owing
to the reefs that encircle the coast, and accordingly
great caution had to be used in navigating the ship
into the harbour. The course lies east, then west
along a certain known channel, and finally the

CHANGES AND STRANGE SCENES

navigator follows the coast for a few hours, when,
rounding a promontory on his right, he catches his
first glimpse of this anchorage. The Government
post of Port Moresby, although picturesquely situated
among rolling hills which slope down to the water's
edge, is in itself unpretentious enough — merely a
collection of houses and offices of bare, galvanised
iron, architecturally as insignificant as rabbit hutches.
During the day the temperature resembles Hades or
Aden, whichever may have the priority. Here the
British official chooses to abide, although comfort-
able houses of sago, with thick grass thatch, cool on
the hottest day, offering a delightful dwelling-place,
might be had only a few miles distant. A paternal
administration, however, prescribes galvanised iron,
and there its servants swelter, patient and uncom-
plaining, after the manner of Britons.

Clustered about the Government buildings are
various other buildings — the jail, which more re-
sembles a pleasure-ground, shipping offices, stores,
and the hotel. On an elevation at the farther end
of the bay stands Government House, a pleasantly-
situated bungalow raised off the ground on five-foot
posts. The best building in the place, as one might
expect, is the station of the London Missionary Society.

Life at Port Moresby is not without its events, and
one of the most noteworthy of its public spectacles,
and one which I was fortunate enough to see on
a subsequent visit, is the annual starting of the
lakatois or huge sailing rafts, laden with pottery
for trade in the western part of the possession.

Those who are familiar with the postage-stamp of

CHANGES AND STRANGE SCENES

British New Guinea must, no doubt, have often won-
dered what manner of strange craft is depicted thereon.
The stamp, as will be seen from the accompanying
illustration, bears the representation of a boat, or
rather a raft, carrying two gigantic sails resembling
the wings of some weird bird, and the whole appear-
ance of the vessel is one that arouses curiosity. This
is the lakatoi, the remarkable trading vessel of the
hereditary potters of Hanuabada, a little village not
far from Port Moresby. The hamlet, with its neigh-
bour, Elevada, is built partly on land and partly on
piles in the water ; but while the land part of Hanua-
bada stands on the mainland, that part of Elevada
which is not aquatic is founded on an island.

The inhabitants belong to the Motu tribe, and
their numbers do not exceed 800. Their long grass-
thatched huts rise from sixteen to twenty feet above
land or water, and each has its little landing-stage on
a lower tier. The main poles supporting these struc-
tures are of rough-hewn tree trunks driven down into
the soft sand. At a height of from five to six feet
above the water the natural forks of the main poles
are retained, and across these logs are laid, forming a
rude platform. Ladders of very irregular construction
give access almost at haphazard from stage to stage.
Looking through the village below the houses, the eye
encounters a perfect forest of poles, and between the
dwellings in this queer Venice of the East run little
waterways just wide enough to let a canoe pass along
without grazing its outriggers. The houses themselves
each contain only one living apartment.

In and out among the houses ply the dug-out

CHANGES AND STRANGE SCENES

canoes, and a very charming feature of the village
is its crowd of children, playing with toy lakatois.
The smallest of these toy craft are made of a section
of bamboo ballasted with stones, with a sail of the
same shape as that of the great rafts used by the
grown-up people. The bigger children, scorning the
bamboo vessels, have a larger kind, in which the
canoes are real little dug-outs. These youngsters
are wonderful swimmers, and as they conduct their
little regattas they jump about in the water, swimming
and diving fearlessly, and enjoying the merriest pos-
sible time. The people of Hanuabada are an agreeable
and rather comely race. They are typical south-east
coast natives, with shock heads of black wiry hair.
The women, who carry on the characteristic industry of
the place, the work in earthenware, are lithe picturesque
figures in their long ramis or kilts of grass.

It is a curious fact that, although the Hanuabada
and Elevada people live actually on waters that teem
with fish, they are poor fishermen, being, in fact, too
lazy to follow that craft. They are accordingly helped
in this industry by the Hula people, whose fishing
fleet presents at night one of the most weirdly pic-
turesque sights in Papua. Of this I have more to say
in a later chapter.

For weeks before the annual trading expedition
Hanuabada is full of life. At every turn one comes
upon women crouching on the ground, fashioning
lumps of clay into the wonderfully perfect pottery for
which the village is famous. The men-folk, although
they do not condescend to take part in the actual
fashioning of the pots, are good enough to dig the

HANUABADA GIRLS DANCING AND SINGING.

Before the young braves sail on their annual pottery trading voyage, which they make
on board Lakatois (sailing rafts of canoes), they have great rejoicing, and the young
women dance on the decks of their strange-looking vessels.

CHANGES AND STRANGE SCENES

clay, which they take out of the ground with a stone
adze — a flat stone blade lashed to the shorter extremity
of a forked stick, the longer extremity forming the
handle.

There is a distinct organisation of labour among
the potters, the women being divided into 6i makers"
and "bakers." Several "makers" work together in
a group. They use no wheel, but seize a lump of
clay with both hands, and make a hole large enough
to get the right hand in, whereupon they gradually
give the vessel its contour. After being roughly
shaped, it is smoothed off with flat sticks or the palm
of the hand. The finished article of Hanuabada ware
is in the form of a flattened sphere with a very wide
mouth, and a neatly finished rim six or eight inches
across. Farther to the east, along the coast, the
pottery is highly decorated, but it is much more crude
in form, and has no fine rim. The pots are dried in
the sun for several days, and then they are turned
over to the " bakers," whose fires are blazing in every
street. There are two methods of baking. One is to
lay the pot on a heap of hot ashes ; the other to build
the fire right round it. The vessel is watched through
the whole process, and is continually turned on the
fire with a little stick thrust into the mouth.

When many hundreds of pots have been completed,
the Hanuabada people begin to think about the dis-
posal of their wares. Their great market is at Paruru,
a long way up the coast. They barter their pottery
for sago with the nations of that district, and it is
very curious to note that this extensive trading organi-
sation on the part of an utterly savage people has been

CHANGES AND STRANGE SCENES

in existence from time immemorial, and is no imitation
of European methods. To reach Paruru the potters
must undertake a perilous voyage, for which they are
dependent on the tail of the south-east monsoon.

Then comes the preparation of the craft, the
lakatois. Several hundred large dug-out canoes are
brought together, and are moored side by side at the
landing stages in groups of six or ten. While this
is being done many people are out in the forest cut-
ting rattans and bamboos for lashing the dug-outs
together, and for the upper framework of the rafts.
Across the canoes, after they have been ranged at the
proper distance (amidships, about six inches apart,
although their taper ends cause a wider gap at bow
and stern), are placed long bamboos, extending a
considerable distance beyond the port and starboard
sides of the outermost pair. Along the gunwales
of each canoe, at regular intervals, stout bamboo
uprights are erected, and to these the horizontal
cross bamboos are strongly lashed with fibre and
cane, until the whole framework is perfectly rigid.
To the cross framework the potters fix down a floor
of split bamboo, and all round the outer edges they
wreathe dried grass to prevent slipping as one steps
on board. This platform overlaps all round the raft
fore and aft, and the cross pieces are very strong and
firmly lashed. Openings are left in the floor above
each dug-out to enable the pottery to be stored in the
holds of the canoes. A clear space is left on the plat-
form, extending about six feet from bow and stern,
and on the whole of the intervening space houses
are erected in skeleton bamboo framework. These can

CHANGES AND STRANGE SCENES

be entirely covered in with mats to afford a shelter
in stormy weather or in rain. The roofs as well as the
sides are formed of mats. Wooden masts are now
stepped amidships and held in place with stout stays
of fibre, and then the lakatoi is ready to receive its
sails. These resemble vast kites, and were formerly
made of native matting stretched upon an outer
frame of bamboo, but are now made of calico. It is
difficult to describe their form, and they can best
be understood by a study of the accompanying
illustration.

Why the strange segment should be cut out of
the upper part, leaving two great wings, I have never
been able to discover. The sails of the lakatoi are of
themselves — things apart. Being stretched on a frame
they cannot bulge, but swing like boards. Their
points rest on the deck and work freely in a socket.
The sails are hung lightly to the masts by braces,
and there is no clewing up. In spite of their
comparative rigidity they are quite manageable, and
in case of sudden squalls can easily be let go.
The lakatoi is now ready for use — perhaps the most
remarkable -looking craft that ever went to sea — -
and has only to be tested. From the rigging and
the sails float long streamers of Papuan grass deco-
rations, and the fleet of eight or ten lakatois now
lying off Hanuabada affords, as the sun strikes the
brown sails, a really charming spectacle.

Before they proceed to sea the careful people
institute a trial trip, and celebrate a regatta with
several days of extraordinary festivity. The fleet is
sometimes augmented by some lakatois from other

CHANGES AND STRANGE SCENES

villages. These sail up to Port Moresby from the
east to join the main expedition. About eleven
o'clock in the morning, if the wind be strong
enough, the people of Hanuabada and Elevada begin
to test each vessel in the harbour, trying how the
ropes run, how the sails work, and how the lashings
hold together. Everything is thoroughly overhauled,
for the lives of the men folk of the village depend
upon the fitness of their queer craft. The crew go
on board and take up their positions. At the bow
stands the professional pilot, a man thoroughly
acquainted with the coast, and behind him, stretch-
ing in Indian file down the gunwale on port and
starboard, stand his crew, each man handling a long
pole. The steering is done from behind with two
poles slightly flattened at the ends, and forward, for
certain emergencies, they use a small Chinese sweep.
The crew pole gently out from land until the breeze
strikes the sails, and then far away they go merrily
down the harbour, tacking about in every direction
with wonderful dexterity, for the lakatois, clumsy
although they appear, are quick " in stays."

At last comes the day when the Hanuabada people
say, " If the wind is favourable, we will start to-
morrow." Vast quantities of farinaceous food are
brought on board, and the small dug-outs are busy
darting out from the village to the fleet, bearing the
stores that are to last the voyagers for their two
months' trip. Then the festivities begin. The
damsels of the village deck themselves most artisti-
cally with finely woven garlands that lie in close
cinctures round their brows. In most ravishing

CHANGES AND STRANGE SCENES

rarnis they go on board and celebrate the departure
of the young braves by the wildest dances on the
platforms fore and aft — dances that would put a
premiere danseuse to shame. They spin round with
such dizzying rapidity that, when I photographed
them, although I used a shutter snapping at a
hundredth of a second, the { image of the dancers
was somewhat blurred, as will be seen from the an-
nexed picture. As an accompaniment to the dances,
they sing the appalling and discordant songs of the
coast native, and the merriment and motion cease
only for the intervals of feasting on yams, taro, and
fish. The dancing is for the most part independent,
but occasionally there is some attempt at rudimentary
figures, and the little girls, with arms interlaced
after the manner of a " lady's chain" in the Lancers,
form a ring in the centre, while the bigger girls circle
around.

Some of the young braves sleep on board the last
night, and the next day at dawn, if the wind should
be favourable, a start is made. The last good-byes
are said, the small canoes dart to and from the shore
with final messages, and as the great lakatois slowly
get under way, the girls crowd upon the beach, shout-
ing and waving to their young heroes, until the last
odd-shaped sail has disappeared round the farthest
promontory. The men of the village will not be seen
again for two months, and some perhaps not at all, for
the voyage is long and beset with divers perils, and
not every lakatoi weathers the sudden treacherous
squalls and storms of the Papuan coast.

Their captains, of course, have no knowledge what-

CHANGES AND STRANGE SCENES

ever of the science of navigation, and sail their vessels
by cross bearings, or — when out of sight of land — by
sheer instinct.

During the whole time that the traders are absent,
gloom reigns in Hanuabada. At nightfall the de-
solate women bar themselves into their houses, and
remain in the most jealous seclusion until the daylight
reappears. It is a most unflattering reflection that
this custom has only arisen since Europeans first came
to Papua.

From Port Moresby I intended to go sixty miles
westward to Yule Island, and thence push into the
interior of British New Guinea, where I proposed to
pursue the special scientific work for which my expe-
dition had been undertaken. The point which I
intended to use as my centre of operations would
require a journey up country of at least three weeks'
duration, through an almost unknown region, where
only native paths existed, or, at the best, a missionary
road extending for a short distance. Wheeled traffic
was, of course, impossible, and everything would have
to be transported by carriers. The first necessity was,
therefore, to procure transport, a work of infinite diffi-
culty ; but at last, chiefly through the great assistance
and courtesy of Mr. Hislop, then resident magistrate of
the district of Mekeo, sixty miles west of Port Moresby,
I obtained a sufficient number of carriers. Mr.
Hislop then took the trouble to go as far inland with
me as our first halting-place, Epa, in order to help
me and to use his influence to persuade the natives
to give me their services. The gross weight of the
baggage to be carried must have been, at least,

CHANGES AND STRANGE SCENES

2000 lbs., and it consisted first and foremost of what
is technically known as " trade," that is, beads, axes,
1 8-inch knives, 9-inch knives, 6-inch knives, tobacco,
looking-glasses, red calico, bright - coloured cotton
prints, plane-irons for axe-heads, Jew's-harps — for
which a Papuan will do almost anything — and, most
valued of all, dogs' teeth. In addition to this, I had
to carry the whole of my apparatus for collecting — 100
nets, 60 to 70 cyanide bottles and enough cyanide of
potassium to poison the whole population of New
Guinea, store boxes, pins, cork bungs, and lamps. I
had also a complete photographic equipment.

For our own sustenance we carried a great
quantity of tinned provisions, and enough rice to
feed our carriers for the journey both ways. I ought
not to omit to mention our tents, another heavy
item of transport. For arms we had our 12 -bores,
our revolvers, one Winchester repeating rifle, and
one Winchester repeating shot-gun, with sufficient
ammunition. We also carried a store of empty
cartridge cases, recappers, loose powder, shot, and
caps, extractors and refillers. Before setting out it
was necessary to make bags of stout canvas, sewn
with twine and fortified with two coats of paint.
Into these all our baggage was packed, and each
bundle was duly numbered.

CHAPTER IV

WE STRIKE INLAND

We start Inland — Friendly Natives but Hostile Mosquitoes —
Bioto Creek — Bioto — Guest Houses — A Splendid Game Region
— Daily Migration of Flocks of Pigeons — Greedy Coast Natives
— Carriers Inadequate — A Double Journey in Relays — We meet
the Chief Mavai, a great Papuan Character — Mavai's Way of
Life — His Harem — His Western Notions — His Trousers' — His
Red Coat — His Severe Discipline — As we proceed, Construction
of Native Houses more elaborate — On to Ekeikei and Dinawa
— March through Wet Vegetation — Tortured by Leeches and
an Abominable Parasite, the Scrub- Itch — A Gloomy Forest
— Magnificent Orchids — Carriers stimulate Laggard Com-
rades with Nettles — he Aculama River — I discover a
New Fish.

CHAPTEE IV
WE STRIKE INLAND

We left Yule Island at 10 a.m. in a small boat,
accompanied by two Mission Fathers. Our baggage
came on with us at the same time in a rough boat.
We reached the mouth of the river at noon, and
found some natives there fishing. They were very
friendly and gave us some fish. At that point the
entrance to the river was about half a mile broad,
but across it there was a big bar. At 2 p.m. we
had entered the Bioto Creek, where we suffered tre-
mendously from mosquitoes. Here, in fact, they are
quite a terror, and this is believed to be the very
worst place for mosquitoes in all New Guinea. During
the first night that we halted there I had not fixed
my net properly, so I slept very little owing to the
annoyance of these insects. It is an unhealthy spot,
and fever rages. The village is very small, containing
only nineteen houses for the regular inhabitants, and
two houses, one at each end, for visitors. This pro-
vision for the stranger within their gates is a general
custom in every Papuan village. Despite this form
of hospitality, however, the Bioto people are not very
amiable, and I found them extremely greedy. The
region is a perfect one for game, especially for duck
and pigeon. Every evening one sees clouds of
pigeons flying over the sea from the mainland to

83 E

WE STRIKE INLAND

Pigeon Island. In the morning they return. This
migration is to secure safety, as Pigeon Island is
uninhabited, and in its mangrove swamps the birds
know that they can sleep unmolested. After a night's
rest, such as it was, we prepared to start again, but
found the natives somewhat unwilling to go on. At
length they agreed to take us by canoe as far as
the path to Epa, about ten miles from the Bioto
Creek, and from that place they would take us five
miles by road to Jack's camp, which was six miles
distant from Epa. For this journey they demanded
an absurd price — each carrier wanted a 1 6-inch knife,
a tomahawk, or a pearl-shell — and in this extra-
vagant rating of their services they showed them-
selves typical coast natives. The mountain people
would have done the same work for one stick of
tobacco. Before we had come to terms the day had
worn away, and it was necessary to remain another
night at Bioto. Next morning we were up early,
and by the time we had breakfasted, the carriers,
fifteen in all, who had come from their gardens the
night before, were ready to take up their burdens.
The number available was still inadequate, but as
no more were to be had we had to make up our minds
to a double journey. We stayed the night at Jack's
camp, sending on a messenger to Epa to ask the chief
Mavai to bring his people down the next day. By
ten o'clock the next morning Mavai had not arrived,
so we decided to walk to Epa and see him, at the
same time hoping that we might meet him by the
way. We took Sam (my Cingalese servant) with us,
and as there were two tracks, he took one and I the

WE STRIKE INLAND

other, each arranging to fire a gun if either should
meet Mavai. As it happened we met Mavai most
opportunely just where the two tracks met, and Sam,
who had only gone a few yards, was with us in a
minute. Mavai explained that, as it was already late
in the day, he would not call his people together, but
would make arrangements for them to carry for us on
the following day.

Mavai, the chief of Epa, is a magnificent autocrat,
and is proud to be the white mans friend. He was
credited with powers of sorcery — hence his extra-
ordinary influence. He overshadowed me with his
favour, and commanded his entire village to "carry
for Parki " — the Epan attempt to pronounce my name.
Thus I obtained the force I required to take me on-
wards, and I went, one might almost say, on the
shoulders of Epa — men, women, and children. The
chief himself shouldered a load, without loss of dig-
nity, and with great advantage to his royal pocket.

My princely benefactor was no ordinary man. He
stood about six feet high. His features were of
Roman type, his bearing active and alert, his frame
strong and wiry. Keen eyes looked out of a dark
copper-coloured visage, which gained by contrast with
a scarlet coat — a discarded British uniform, his only
ceremonial garment, donned on occasions of great
gravity. Such an occasion was the issuing of his
command to carry for me. With due ceremony he
mounted a platform erected near his house, and
assuming the red coat he addressed his assembled
people with magnificent oratory, emphasising his
speech by actions. Mavai is a strict disciplinarian,

WE STRIKE INLAND

and I have seen him administer personal chastisement
to recalcitrant villagers. He is a mighty hunter, a
fact attested by his crushed right hand, which
was maimed by a bite from a wild pig. Our
friend is a great polygamist, and formerly had
fifteen wives. When we were there at Epa he pos-
sessed only five, to whom he was extremely kind,
although he made them work pretty hard. One of
them was specially appointed to wait upon her lord
at his meals. On the death of another he was
deeply affected, and cut off his mop of hair. He
kept up considerable state, and at meal-times sat in
his house in a different apartment from that in which
he slept. He was not above taking food with us,
and used to ask for tobacco in a very lordly way.
He smoked a European pipe, of which he was par-
ticularly proud, and when it was between his lips
he used to touch the bowl consequentially and say,
" Parki," thus signifying to me that he was no small
beer. He would pay the deepest attention through-
out a long story, looking steadily at you, and when
you had finished he would tell you what he thought,
giving elaborate reasons. In the centre of his house
hung a hurricane lamp, which he had got from Jack
Exton, the sandalwood trader. He understood the
working of the lamp quite well, and kept a supply of
kerosene in the house in a tin. He was also indebted
to Mr. Exton for a further adjunct of civilisation, viz.
a pair of trousers very unfashionably big at the knee.
His Highness used European spoons, forks, and
knives.

Mavai had adopted a coloured orphan, whom he

WE STRIKE INLAND

kept under very strict discipline. This youth refused
to go with Sam to Oo-fa-fa, and when the chief found
out that his express orders had been disobeyed, he
cut off a stick and thrashed the boy indoors for all
he was worth. The boy received ten cuts, but neither
moved nor howled, although the women of the village
set up a dolorous wailing while the punishment was
going on. As soon as the castigation was finished,
Mavai seemed to be seized with sudden shamefaced-
ness, for he ran at top speed to his sago plantation,
and remained in retirement for a considerable time.

At Epa the native houses begin to be beautifully
constructed. They are on a raised platform, and
look like inverted boats, the roof being formed by
bending over long sticks, so as to form an arch that
is thatched with sago leaf. The floor is particularly
good, and at Epa there is an admirable guest-house,
with a fine level floor of split sago, the pieces being
i \ inches wide, neatly laid and bound together.

Mavai's guest-house, which adjoined his dwelling-
house, was open at both ends. The house poles are
very substantial, for they are driven into the iron
ground, which is very stony, and radiated great heat,
so that one could not go comfortably without boots,
although in this respect the natives seem to be
pachydermatous.

We saw Mavai's son build a house, neither asking
nor requiring assistance. Single-handed he brought
up his poles, peeled off the bark, and drove them in.

One evening during our stay there was a terrific
wind storm, a heavy north-wester, which tried the
architecture of Epa severely. One slender house

WE STRIKE INLAND

began to heel over, and it was accordingly tied to a
tree with strands of cane, and a large gang of men
held these stays until the worst of the storm, was
passed. Even Mavai's substantial house gave way a
little under the tempest.

It was about 9.50 when we started on our journey
from Epa to Ekeikei. We sent twenty-five carriers
on with their loads, and we ourselves followed
with the remainder of the baggage. Of course we
could not cany everything on this trip, and it was
my intention, when we finally reached our destination
at Dinawa, to send back mountain men to bring the
rest of the material up the forty miles' tramp from
Epa.

At first the path led downwards, and very soon
we came to a small river, over which — as the existing
bamboo bridge was unsafe owing to a freshet — we
had to be carried by the natives. We always took
great care to avoid, as far as possible, getting our
clothes wet, as this accident renders the European
traveller particularly liable to fever. In this case,
however, this precaution proved futile, owing to the
oncoming of a downpour of rain — the last we were
to see for nine months.

At times the brushwood was very dense, and we
had to cut our way, but where the forest was closely
matted above, forming a thick canopy which excluded
the light, nothing, of course, could grow beneath.
At points where the light penetrated, the undergrowth
was immediately thick again. The path, such as it
was, was stony and hard. As we trudged along in
the wet, we made the acquaintance of a new discom-

WE STRIKE INLAND

fort. This manifested itself in the presence of a
leech, a little creature about f-inch long, with a
slender body, very much smaller than the European
variety, but inflicting the same sort of three-cornered
bite. The native carriers offer the easiest victims,
for the leeches fasten upon their bare heels in great
numbers, and they had constantly to stop and brush
them off with little switches which they carried in
their hands. Sometimes, when the leeches had bitten
very deep, the carriers had to lay down their loads
and pull them off with their fingers. They would
endure them until they became too bad, say, when
a dozen or so had adhered to each foot. At this
time we did not suffer much, but later on, in the
journey from Faula to Mafulu, they got over the tops
of our boots and socks and attacked our ankles. The
bite was not actually painful, and the presence of
our enemy was not revealed until we realised that
our feet were wet with blood. The chief haunts of
the leech are wet stones and moss and low herbage.

Another discomfort which we experienced at this
point of our journey was the abominable attack of
the scrub-itch, a nasty little parasite that the way-
farer brushes from the low herbage as he moves
along. This hateful microscopic creature, which is
of a bright red colour, gets under the skin and causes
terrible irritation. The affection spreads, and if one
is so unwise as to scratch the place, there is no
hope of relief for at least three weeks. The only
satisfactory remedy is to bathe the part in warm
salt and water. Scrub - itch, leeches, and mos-
quitoes at times render life in the forest anything

WE STRIKE INLAND

but blissful, yet Nature, according to her law, offers
her compensations, even in the primeval forest.

About the elevation that we were traversing there
grows a particular kind of palm, peculiarly grateful to
the native when he is hungry — a not infrequent occur-
rence— and at such moments of stress they discard
their loads, search out this palm and cut it down.
At the top, just below the crown of the palm, the
last shoot, about six feet long, remains green. It is
opened lengthways, and is peeled until the inside
layers are reached. These layers are straw-coloured,
like asparagus, and to the taste are sweet, slightly
dashed with acid. Europeans, as well as natives, can
eat great quantities of this wholesome and en-
joyable food with impunity. It is excellent also for
quenching thirst, for which it is often most convenient,
as it grows in waterless regions.

The gloom of the forest was diversified by the
colours of its extraordinary orchids. One of these
(grammatophyllum speciosum), which had made its
home on a lofty tree, was of almost incredible luxuri-
ance, and could the whole plant have been secured,
it would not have weighed less than half a ton. I
despatched one of my native boys to climb the tree
to see if he could secure a specimen. He went about
his task in the native fashion. The climber stands
with his face to the trunk, which, as well as his
body, is encircled with a hoop of rattan cane. This
hoop he holds in each hand, and his ankles are tied
together. First, he leans back until his body has
purchase on the hoop, and then at that moment, by
the leverage of his ankles, he makes an upward

WE STRIKE INLAND

movement of about a foot. Then, falling backwards
against the hoop, and pressing his feet against the
trunk, he is supported for the next spring. This
operation is repeated with marvellous dexterity and
rapidity, and with this contrivance the youth makes
his way to the top. There is no tree in New Guinea
that a native cannot climb thus.

In the present instance, my man was not destined
to have any luck, for the network of roots round the
tree formed such a wide-spreading dome that he could
not make his way over to the crown to secure a speci-
men of the orchid, and the attempt had accordingly
to be abandoned.

We pressed on along the rough track, which was
everywhere beset with precipices and ravines that
compelled us to take the greatest care. The road was
fairly practicable, however, for transit, and there were
no very serious obstructions at this stage of the journey.
My people were in good spirits, and we plodded on
as gaily as might be, occasionally stopping and giving
the men a smoke. Despite the toils of the road,
these halts in the forest were perfectly delightful, for
we had in the improvement of the air a foretaste of
the pleasant freshness that was to make life in the
mountains of New Guinea so tolerable and even
attractive.

After five hours' march we arrived at Ekeikei,
rather tired and ready for slumber, but here, alas !
there was no rest for us. The native carriers had
to lodge, some in our hut, some under it, and their
method of spending the night was not favourable to
repose. Their idea is to sleep for half-an-hour? and

WE STRIKE INLAND

then light their pipes and spin yarns, which, to judge
by their uproarious laughter, must have been ex-
tremely diverting. After the story-telling, they obliged
us with songs, and the music wooed them again to a
brief period of slumber. It did not woo us, for the
coast natives have no ear, and their music is very
unlike the soft and flowing song of the mountaineers.
This performance went on until daybreak, when we
rose. In order to make a satisfactory day's journey
it was necessary to start at 5 a.m. We had to prepare
our own breakfast and give the natives theirs, and
then we set out for Madui.

Again, the path wound past high precipices and
deep ravines until we came to our first resting-place,
Bamboo Camp, so called from a clump of bamboo that
formed a natural shelter. Here the forest trees were
so high and thick that scarcely any sun or light could
penetrate. It was gloomy in the extreme, and very
depressing, the silence broken only by the drip, drip
of the rain, and the only sound of life was the " wauk,"
" wauk " of the bird of paradise.

For two hours the track skirted the Deeauay
precipice, and our way led under enormous over-
hanging boulders which would reach out some distance
overhead. These were the more impressive in that
they seemed to have no hold, and the imagination
made teasing suggestions as to what would happen if
one of them were to topple over. From the crevices
little springs issued, and in these damp nooks there
was a luxuriant growth of lichens and begonias in
flower. While accomplishing the long circumvention
of the crags, it was impossible to obtain a view of

WE STRIKE INLAND

the Deeanay, but as we broke out into more open
forest, close to Madui, one could form some idea of its
rocky magnificence.

Close to the Deeanay precipice we noted an extraor-
dinary sight. Under a large tree that rose to a height
of some 150 feet, were huge mounds, quite five feet
high, of veritable sawdust, that seemed to proclaim
the presence of man. On a nearer approach the
wonder became greater, for the heaps were being con-
tinually augmented by a constant rain of sawdust of
different grains, some finer than others. No human
sawyer, of course, was there, but the tree, to a height
of at least 100 feet, was riddled by coleopterous larvae.
Several families of these were represented. The tree,
which was about five feet in diameter, and had a thin
bark, was, as might be expected, dying. It must have
possessed some strange attraction, for it was most un-
usual in New Guinea to find beetles thus congregated.
The distribution is usually very scattered. The holes
were probably made at first by small beetles of various
families, but chiefly anobiadse, followed as a rule by
brenthidse, later probably by longicorniae. One species
follows the other into the same hole, each succeeding
species bigger than its predecessor. Sometimes the
lepidoptera make borings, but this sawdust was much
finer. Only a few living branches remained on the
tree, which was a mere shell. It was, however,
so well protected from winds that it still stood.
Close by we saw a native hut, uninhabited, of very
rude construction. This point of our journeyings
is otherwise memorable, for it was here, near a
creek, that we found some of our finest butterflies —

WE STRIKE INLAND

lycenidse, papiliosidse, satyridse, and ornithoptera
primus.

We were glad to continue the ascent to Madui,
where once more we emerged into the welcome light
of the sun. When we were two hours' distance from
Madui, one of our carriers struck work and refused to
go any farther. There was only one way of persuasion,
to which I was greatly averse, but his comrades con-
sidered it necessary, and their method, which was, after
all, not very harsh, had the desired effect. The other
carriers picked the leaves of a gigantic nettle, and
with these they gently whipped the reluctant one until
he was fain to "jog on the footpath way, and merrily
hent the stile a." A little later, he tried to desert,
but his comrades brought him back, and when we
halted he was kept in the centre of the camp under
strict surveillance. When he had had a good rest
and a hearty meal, however, he went on as cheerfully
as the others.

We reached the foot of Madui Hill at 3.30 p.m.,
and a climb of half-an-hour brought us to the summit,
which commands a fine view. On a clear day Hall
Sound is visible on the coast side, and inland there
is a grand prospect of mountain scenery. All the way
up it had rained incessantly, and we were drenched
to the skin. Our journey over rocks and precipices,
watercourses and ravines, had completely tired us out,
and, fortunately, the natives were too fatigued to sing.
Accordingly, we contrived to get a good night's rest,
and did not leave Madui until 9.25 a.m. next day.

Getting under weigh again, we descended from
Madui into a ravine, where we passed a delightful

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WE STRIKE INLAND

waterfall, far away up on the precipices of the river
Acularna, which we were to know better during our
stay in New Guinea. The waterfall was on one of
the tributaries of a little river, which we could see far
below us rushing over its rocky bed in small cataracts
that alternated with still blue pools. The trees in
the ravine were loaded with lycopodiums and ferns,
and, in their season, a few rhododendrons. The cluster
of flowers was like a golden ball the size of a man's
head. On a later journey I secured the root, but it
died before I could get it down to the coast for ship-
ment. These rhododendrons did not grow alone, but
attached themselves to tree trunks.

Another curiosity of the Acularna was a large
fresh-water prawn, of which I got wind from the
natives' talk. As soon as I heard it mentioned, I
told my boys that if they could bring me a specimen
I would pay well for it, and also for examples of
the fish of the Acularna. They accordingly went in
quest of the crustacean, and before long they brought
me a specimen. The prawn haunts the eddies under
the large boulders, around which the natives draw
their net so as to lie close to the shape of the stone.
They then pull it out of the water gradually, and
occasionally find that they have caught one or two
specimens. The variety is about 5 inches long, of
a transparent brown when caught, very much like
our British prawns, and when cooked of a rich red.
The pincers and legs are longer than those of the
marine species. They make delightful morsels, and
are a welcome addition to the explorer's larder, which
provides changes none too many.

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WE STRIKE INLAND

In the waters of the Aculama I had also the
good fortune to discover an entirely new fish, the
rhiacichthys Novce Guinea, which has been described
by Mr. Boulenger, and I am permitted to print his
account in the Appendix.

104

CHAPTER V

THE FIRST CAMP

Journey continued — A Glorious Scarlet Creeper — Dinawa —
Site for Camp selected — Building Camp — Native Assistance —
Organisation for Scientific Work — Daily Routine — Teaching
the Natives how to Catch and Handle Entomological Speci-
mens— Sudden Affluence leads one of my Native Boys to
Desert — He is Caught and Reformed — My best Native
Assistant and his Wife — Female Influence a great Asset with
other Women — The Day's Work — Collecting at Night —
Photography — A Dark Room in the Wilds — Native Interest
in Developing.

CHAPTER V

THE FIRST CAMP

To return, however, to our journey. We crossed the
Aculama by a missionary bridge, a rough structure
made of two trees placed about a couple of feet
apart, and laid with cross strips of wood. At once
we began our climb to Dinawa up a winding forest
path — the last stage of the march which was to
bring us to our permanent camp. I was always on
the lookout for natural treasures, and when we got
to the top of the ridge just beyond the Aculama, I
was fortunate enough to see in a ravine just below a
magnificent example of D'Alberti's creeper. D'Alberti
had discovered it on the Fly River. The one I found
here in the mountains was of the variety named
Macuna Bennetti. It ran up its supporting trunk
on a stem which was about 6 inches thick at the
base. At the height of 200 feet it found light,
threw out slender arms, and then dropped down
bunches of festoons 20 feet long, a magnificent blaze
of scarlet blossom. The flowers of the Macuna
Bennetti are distinguished by a calyx covered with
short hairs, some short and pliable, a few stiff.
When we reached the top of Dinawa Hill we found
patches of grass growing, which did not occur any-
where on the lower slopes.

We at once set about selecting a piece of ground

107 F

THE FIRST CAMP

for our camp, and found a level, grassy space, which
required only the cutting of a few trees to make it
clear enough for our purpose. There was, however,
very little brushwood to cut. Pending the building
of a more permanent home, we pitched our tent and
settled down for the first night at our base of opera-
tions. Dinawa village was fifty yards away, and the
native men came timidly out to look at us. They
were very suspicious, and their womenkind so shy
that it was a considerable time before they would
venture to approach our camp.

The day after our arrival the carriers went back,
and it was to the Papuans of the vicinity that we
had to look for the labour that was to build our
house. My Cingalese servant, Sam, spoke the lan-
guage, and he made the overtures to our dusky
neighbours. We were careful to let them get some
inkling of the "trade" we carried, and this seemed
to encourage them to greater boldness. Occasionally
we would open a box in front of our visitors and
show them an axe or a knife, whereat they would
say " lo-pi-ang," that is, "good," the first word, pro-
bably, that a European would hear from the lips of
a Papuan. A little present of tobacco would help
matters greatly, and in return for this the beneficiary
would say with the ingratiating guilelessness of a
child, " Parki lo-pi-ang" (good Pratt). In time the
neighbouring villages, hearing of the vast wealth that
had arrived at Dinawa, came in too, and I was able
to engage a force of workers, whose numbers varied
from ten to fifteen, and who commenced immediately
to build my house. These were to be paid when

to8

THE FIRST CAMP

the house was finished ; but during the ten days that
the building was going on they were given occasional
supplies of tobacco as a gratuity. The average wage
per day was three sticks of tobacco, or one rami, which
would mean about ij yards of scarlet calico. At
the end of the time each man was to receive a large
1 8-inch knife, or an axe, and a certain number of
sticks of tobacco.

For our house, we first drove into the ground two
stout poles 1 8 feet apart. These carried the main
beam of the roof. At a distance of 6 feet on each
side of these poles we placed the corner supports of
the house, each 12 feet high. The framework was
then joined up with poles of unsplit bamboo tied
with split cane, and the framework of the walls con-
sisted of upright pieces of split bamboo set in the
ground 1 foot apart. We then wattled these uprights
with smaller pieces of split bamboo, the sides and
gables of the house forming a complete basket-work.
From the ridge-pole we dropped bamboo rafters ex-
tending far beyond the walls, so as to give very wide
eaves, and throw the drip of the rain as far out as
possible. We were now ready to thatch the roof,
and for this we required large quantities of grass.
The natives by this time had gained sufficient con-
fidence in us to allow their women to work for us,
and accordingly I employed ten women as grass-
cutters, and kept them for several days at work cut-
ting with 6-inch knives, which we supplied. They
had no distance to go to find sufficient grass for our
purpose, but the procuring of heavier poles and
bamboo was a different matter. The wood had to

THE FIRST CAMP

be cut at a point some distance down the hill, and
it took quite three hours to bring up each of the
heavier logs. When the roof was on we nailed down
our floor, which was made of bamboo fixed to cross-
pieces 6 inches off the ground. The material was not
ideal, for the joints were never closed, and small
articles used to fall down into the cracks. We
made our door frame of axed wood and covered
it with thick canvas.

We had also to build our collecting verandah,
which we placed on the edge of a precipice not far
from the house. It had a 20-foot frontage, and was
12 feet wide, with a division down the centre at the
ridge-pole of the roof, which made it, properly speak-
ing, two verandahs placed back to back, so that when
the wind was unfavourable on one side, we could find
shelter on the other. The whole of the structure was
raised off the ground on poles, and the boys had their
quarters beneath.

Such was our establishment at Dinawa. When
we had finished it we began to settle down, and were
able to organise the camp for work. A native boy
called Doboi, from near Dinawa village, was engaged
as cook, and we had also a water-boy, Matu, whose
duty was to go down the hill, a tramp of three-
quarters of an hour, to a beautiful spring whence
we derived our supply. It was lovely water, for the
declivity gave no opportunity for decomposing vege-
table matter to collect. The well always ran clear,
and, even at the worst part of the drought, did not
fail us altogether, although its trickle had sunk to
the size of an ordinary lead-pencil, and the boy had

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THE FIRST CAMP

to wait quite a long time before he could fill the
billies.

We built our fire outside the house in the open
space, gipsy fashion, and hung the billy, in which we
did all our cooking, on a stick resting on two forked
upright sticks. Gradually our working day fell into
a regular routine. We awoke with the dawn, but
had always to trust to ourselves to make the first
start, as your Papuan will not wake a sleeping man.
He has indeed a superstitious awe of the slumberer.
If one must be awakened, it must not be by a shake,
and when Doboi had advanced far enough to bring
us a cup of tea in the morning, he would tread very
warily.

When we were fairly astir, we found Doboi already
about and the fire going. Then he would make tea
while Harry or I baked cakes. The bread rises easily
in New Guinea owing to the temperature, and we
were never at a loss for yeast ; for I had brought
with me a small quantity of hops, and we kept our
supply going by keeping back a piece of dough from
every batch. This fragment, no bigger than a pocket
matchbox, we placed in an ordinary pound tin, and
by noon it had swelled right over the edges. We
breakfasted on bread and dripping of pig, when we
had been able to buy one from the natives, and some-
times we substituted coffee for tea. By seven o'clock
breakfast was finished, the boys having had theirs
under the verandah. It was then time for them to
be off to their collecting, but they were difficult to
move. They wanted to sit and smoke. Once off,
they might do a day's work, but on the other hand

ii3

THE FIRST CAMP

there was just the chance that they would waste their
employer's time in the forest, smoking and telling
stories ; or, if they had killed and caught any-
thing, they would immediately sit down and cook
it. If this happened they would come home empty-
handed, quite shamelessly, saying " awpapoo achi" (no
butterflies).

Each boy was supplied with a large butterfly net
and collecting box. In every box we stuck a certain
number of pins, and told the boy that if he filled his
box with good specimens he would receive a stick of
tobacco. Bad specimens I always discarded in the
culprit's presence, so that his iniquity might come
home to him. I had, of course, to undertake the
training of the collectors myself, although Sam helped
to explain the method.

First, I got a butterfly and showed how to handle
it and pin it sideways into the box. The crucial
matter was the seizing of it once it was in the net.
It must be carefully taken between finger and thumb
and the thorax pinched on the under-side. If it be
pinched from above — as every butterfly collector
knows — the operator's finger-marks would show on
the wings and betray slovenly handling. Some of
the boys became very neat-fingered after a time, but
others would not learn at all, and were so shameless
that they would bring in part of a wing carefully
stuck on the pin — in fact, it was "anything to fill
your box." Occasionally the less scrupulous would
appropriate the pins to their own use. Of course
there was nothing for it but to pay off and send
away such useless fellows.

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THE FIRST CAMP

Making due allowance, however, for the fact that
they were savages, the general character of my
collectors said a great deal for human nature. Doboi
was a really good fellow, and had only one repre-
hensible escapade to his discredit. It was a case
of the deceitfulness of wealth ! He had worked
extremely well and had amassed a small fortune, a
blanket, many ramis, and a quantity of tobacco.
With these possessions, he became a small king in
his village. One day he vanished with all his goods.
Now Doboi was under contract to remain with me
while I was in the interior, and although he had
received much, he had not really worked off his part
of the bargain. Accordingly I had him pursued and
brought back, and thereafter for the rest of his time
he was a good boy. He was fourteen, but had attained
to full manhood, and was a very capable fellow.

My best mountain boy, however, was Ow-bow.
He was my right hand, my native first officer. I
could send him anywhere, for he was quick and
alert, but he always stipulated that he must go
armed, and believing him to be justified, I invariably
provided him with a weapon. He loved fire-arms
passionately, and to see Ow-bow enter a village with
his gun over his shoulder was to realise on a small
scale what a Eoman triumph must have been ! He
understood the weapon — his fellow-tribesmen did not.
Therein lay Ow-bow's power. He would fire a shot
in the air and then lay down the law to his comrades.
If there were any possibility of getting what you
wanted, Ow-bow would get it. He would, indeed,
have done well on an American newspaper. He

117

THE FIRST CAMP

understood how to make the most of what knowledge
he had, and was fully conscious that it gave him
superior power, which he was not slow to wield.
When he went to a village to recruit carriers, he
arrayed himself in his best, donned his finest beads
and feathers, and painted his cheeks in scarlet stripes.
Thus resplendent, with his gun over his shoulder,
he entered the village, strutting consequentially, and
immediately made his presence felt. He was a man
who would not and could not be refused. He showed
his wages and told the tribesmen that they, if they
carried for Parki, would become rich in like
manner.

More subtle still was his dealing when he had
been sent to engage women for grass-cutting or similar
employment. Ow-bow was a married man who had
permission for his wife to stay in camp with him,
and this lady proved his great advocate with her
own sex. While Ow-bow waxed eloquent and per-
suasive with the men, Mrs. Ow-bow would display to
the womenkind what wealth had also come to her,
and as she reasoned, her sisters were persuaded, and
took service with the white man. But Ow-bow's
flourishes with the gun were no mere vainglorious
show. In two months' time he had become a really
good shot, and after a morning's sport would often
return to camp with five or six birds. He invariably
accounted for his empty cartridges, while other boys
would return with spent cases and never a feather
to show for them. He grasped the method of aiming
at once and never showed any amateurish disposition
to squint along the barrel, but got his sights on the

THE FIRST CAMP

bird neatly and quickly and fired without hesitation.
He seldom missed.

During the morning, while the boys were out at
work, Harry and I would also be engaged with our
nets ; or, as our collections increased, we would be
busy putting specimens together, tending them and
seeing that they were not suffering from damp.
Sometimes, taking a couple of the laziest boys with
me, I descended to the Aculama and followed the
stream up its course, collecting as we went. As the
boys' skill increased, it became possible to send them
two by two so that several localities could be worked
simultaneously. Work, still further afield, fell to
Sam, who often went away with five or six carriers
on collecting expeditions that lasted a week or a
fortnight.

The best time of day for butterflies is from 8 a.m.
till noon. The boys returned to camp at times vary-
ing according to their luck or their laziness, and in
any case, we had all returned by three o'clock. Then
Doboi or Weiyah cooked a meal which varied in
excellence according to the state of the stores or our
luck with the gun, and afterwards we took our siesta.
The late afternoon or early evening found us at
work again on the collections or putting the camp
straight. Darkness descended quickly, and when there
was no moon we went to the verandah and began
collecting moths. On favourable nights we often
continued at work till daybreak.

The boys did not care about night work and
usually sat round the camp fire smoking, spinning
yarns, or crooning their charmingly plaintive mountain

119

THE FIRST CAMP

melodies until about i a.m., when they curled up under
the verandah and went to sleep. Occasionally one
or two very hard-up young gentlemen, whose need of
tobacco was urgent, would volunteer to assist in the
moth-catching, but for the most part they preferred
free evenings like the young working people of more
advanced nations. Visitors from Dinawa dropped in
until the camp became a thronged resort. Then
unfortunately things began to disappear, and it was
necessary to keep the natives at a greater distance
and restrict liberty of entrance. "No admission
except on business " became the rule for outsiders.
On my own boys, I found it was best to impose no
cast-iron regulations.

Nor were these all our occupations. Besides the
lepidoptera, there were ornithological and botanical
specimens to collect and preserve. Of the last, the
more succulent required constant care and changing,
and some took three weeks to dry. Photography
proved a pleasant change, and on nights unfavourable
for moths, we darkened the house with blankets and
had a spell of developing. At such times one realised
poignantly the limitations of a savage country, and
the value of things that at home are too common-
place to be remarked. Our chief lack was a good
flat shelf. Amateur photographers with luxurious
equipment should figure to themselves the discomforts
of a ridgy shelf of split bamboo on which no bottle
will stand upright. Groping in the dim red light
among one's materials on that crazy ledge was as
productive of maledictions as the royal and ancient
game itself.

1 20

THE FIRST CAMP

The natives were, at first, very much frightened
at the camera, the women especially, and some of
them were never reconciled to it. I showed them
stereoscopic slides of Papuan views on Negretti and
Zambra's veroscope. One fellow, on seeing his own
portrait stand out in bold relief, dropped the stereo-
scope and ran up a tree. I occasionally allowed a
few privileged natives to come into the dark room
to watch the developing. At first they were rather
alarmed at the red light, but gradually they became
interested in the process, and as the image appeared
we heard the inevitable " lo-pi-ang."

Such was our daily life at Dinawa — very enjoyable
in the crisp and bracing mountain air that reminded
one of an English October. But for the unavoidable
cares of camp management and fears for the endurance
of our food supply and the safety of our specimens, it
would have been altogether ideal.

123

CHAPTER VI

VICISSITUDES AND A DIGRESSION

The Drought affects our Work — Butterflies begin to Fail —
Forest Fires — We descend to the St. Joseph River — A Tempo-
rary Camp — A Wonderful Native Suspension Bridge — River
Scenery — Native Methods of Fishing — Dull Weather and
Little Success in Collecting — A Comic Incident — A Native
besieged by a Wild Pig — War — Native Hostility — A Chief
threatens to Cook and Eat our Heads — Strict Guard kept
on Camp — The Bird of Paradise — Papuan Game Laws —
Natives' Interest in Writing — Further Stay at the St. Joseph
Impracticable — A Flood destroys our Bridge — A Visit to a
Native Village — Curious Means of Ingress — Return to Dinawa
— My Cingalese Headman's Experiences — He evades Native
Treachery — Sudden Growth of a New Township.

CHAPTER VI

VICISSITUDES AND A DIGRESSION

As the days went on at Dinawa, there was no sign of
any breaking up of the great drought, which began
seriously to affect the success of our work. Butterflies
grew scarce, and daily the catch fell off, for the vege-
tation was getting very dry. Lycopodiums were drop-
ping off the trees, and often we could see, in the lower
grounds, great forest fires, which consumed the under-
growth throughout large tracts of country, miles and
miles being left blackened and burnt up. In these
conflagrations, millions of low-feeding and high-feed-
ing larvae must have been destroyed, and there was a
corresponding decrease in the insect life of the district.
Seeing that, for a time, there was not much more to
be done, we decided to quit our camp at Dinawa and
descend to the St. Joseph River; so, on July 22, we
set out with thirty carriers, and went down into a deep
valley, whence we climbed a ridge which brought us
to a native village so strongly stockaded that we knew
that the tribes must be at war — village against village
— and this unsettled state of affairs made it very
difficult to persuade the natives to pass with us through
the open country that lay between the hamlets.

At this place we changed carriers, and, accom-
panied by the chief of the village, we descended by an
extremely rough native path to the St. Joseph River,

127

VICISSITUDES

which we reached at 4 p.m., after a march of about six
hours. We found the river very low but beautifully
limpid and very rapid. For our camp we immediately
chose a small patch of sand close to the stream, the
only clear space we could find ; for the river bed and
the gorge itself were filled with enormous boulders
piled one upon the other in the wildest confusion.

Our temporary dwellings were of the simplest.
Harry and I occupied an ordinary fly-tent, and another
was pitched for our native followers. On the day
after our arrival we set about constructing a rough
bridge for our own convenience. This we did by
felling a tree on one side of the stream and letting
it fall across the river bed as far as it would go. We
repeated the operation with a thinner tree, which we
let fall from the opposite bank, and the branches of
the two intertwining in the middle, gave the structure
some sort of continuity. Along the two trunks we
could scramble without any very great difficulty. Our
feat of engineering, however, was as nothing compared
to the one achieved by our savage neighbours, for at a
little distance up the stream the Papuans had spanned
the gorge with a most wonderful suspension bridge.
Across the ravine they had swung four main chains
of bamboo. These were fastened at each end to a
rigid horizontal cross-piece, and this again was braced
on one side of the river to two trees, of no very great
thickness, but of tremendous sustaining power, while
on the other the chains were laid over the top of an
enormous crag, then across a little depression in the
ground behind it, and so were made fast to trees at
the height of a few feet from the ground. The four

128

VICISSITUDES

main chains were under-girt with loops of bamboo,
forming a cradle, along the bottom of which single
bamboos were laid on end, affording a precarious
footway. The total length of the span was at least
150 feet, and it swung clear of the tree-tops on the
wooded sides of the gorge. At its greatest dip the
bridge must have been 70 feet above the river. The
elasticity and swing were tremendous, and I confess that
the passage of the bridge was no joke to one unaccus-
tomed to its giddy eccentricities. On this veritable
tight-rope custom is everything, for I have seen fifteen
native carriers at one time dancing carelessly across it,
regardless of their heavy loads and of the tremen-
dous increase in the oscillation that their numbers
caused.

I crossed with some natives of the district, and
having descended the right bank of the St. Joseph for
about a mile, we came to the mouth of a small tribu-
tary, the bed of which we ascended for a distance of
half a mile. It was a toilsome ascent owing to the
enormous boulders, to which I have already alluded,
and I found that the safest way was to take off my
shoes and stockings and clamber along bare-foot. At
intervals among these boulders occurred calm pools of
exquisite deep blue water, and these the natives choose
as their fishing grounds. They favour the pools with
the narrowest outlets, and dam with leaves the little
waterfalls, or natural weirs over which the water rushes
from one clear expanse to another.

My native companions, being very agreeable and
obliging fellows, were kind enough to send to their
villages for the great fishing nets, 30 yards long and

129 G

VICISSITUDES

6 or 7 feet wide. When the nets arrived, the natives
collected stones about the size of an orange, wrapped
palm leaves round them, and then tied them to the
edge of the net, until it was evenly weighted all along,
at intervals of about 6 inches. They then lowered
their net into the water, so arranging it as to form a
half-moon, and, scrambling along the sides of the
watercourse, they gradually drew the mesh towards
them, until they reached the upper end of the pool,
where natives, standing breast-high in the water,
landed the fish, as they were pressed towards the
bank, in large dip nets. Some of the fish jumped
over the net, and some escaped down stream, and
even managed to plunge over the weir, for they were
strong enough to take a leap of 6 feet. We caught
eight beauties, none under 2 lbs. in weight, and some
up to 4 lbs. They were, as far as I could make out, a
species of fresh-water mullet, and in the main stream
of the St. Joseph similar fish, weighing as much as
15 lbs., are no uncommon catch.

These fish are wonderfully provided by Nature
with an appliance which helps them to combat the
extraordinary current. At one moment you will see
them being swept down resistlessly, but suddenly they
shoot off into the quieter water and attach themselves
to the rocks by a strong sucker near the mouth.
There they hang just outside the current, their tails
moving gently with the eddy; and when they have
recovered their strength, they make another dash
through the swifter waters, coming to anchor again
when baffled — otherwise it would be impossible for
them to stem the stream. The fish we caught that

130

FISHING WITH HAND-NET ON THE UPPER WATERS OF THE ST. JOSEPH RIVER.

VICISSITUDES

day made a most welcome addition to our larder, as
they are delicious eating.

From a scientific point of view we did not gain
much by our expedition to the St. Joseph Eiver.
Every day the skies were leaden, and during the
whole time of our stay we saw no sun. Butterflies
were scarcely more plentiful than they had been at
Dinawa, and once, after a whole mornings work,
Harry had only secured two — fine specimens, no
doubt, but even at that an insufficient reward for the
time spent. Every night we kept the lamp going,
but the moths were very scarce, although our camp
was in the heart of the forest.

Our life at St. Joseph River, however, was not to
be all tranquillity. Once we had an alarm which
fortunately degenerated into an incident of pure
comedy, although it might have been very serious.
At nightfall, one evening, a native boy, who had gone
out shooting, had not returned, and we began to
grow very anxious about him. At eight o'clock, how-
ever, he came into camp in a state of considerable
agitation and bringing a strange tale of a pig. He had
shot a tusker with No. 9 shot, but had only wounded
it, and the animal charged him, whereupon he had
thrown away his gun and run up a tree. Then the
pig sat down over against him and laid siege to him,
and our poor friend abode in the tree for several hours.
Finally, however, the pig's wound, which was over his
eye, so blinded him with blood that he raised the siege
in disgust and made off to his fastnesses.

As time went on the rumours of war increased,
and one day three natives came in from the village of

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VICISSITUDES

Mi-Mi, six hours' journey higher up the mountains,
on the top of a ridge. They came from the chief
of Baw-boi, a fierce warrior, who kept all the small
villages round him in abject terror. His emissaries
conveyed to me a most agreeable message, that if we
and our followers should honour him with a visit at
Mi-Mi, he would kill my men, and have the pleasure
of cooking and eating our heads — a compliment, pre-
sumably, to the superiority of European brains. I had
fully intended to visit him, but after this token of
cordiality I refrained, so that the menu of the chief
of Baw-boi's regal banquet has not yet included the
tempting item, " braised brains of Pratt." After the
chiefs intimation I kept fires going all night at both
ends of the camp, but it was not necessary to post a
stricter watch than usual, for three or four of my men
always kept awake in their hammocks during the
dark hours. This precaution is, in fact, so natural to
savages that they never need to be reminded of its
necessity. We heard that the chief of Baw-boi had
placed his village in a complete state of defence,
had excavated a trench 18 feet wide all round, and
had erected a stockade. The effect of these hostile
preparations on the weaker villages round we were to
learn later from Sam, who was, at this time, a day's
journey higher up the river carrying on collecting
work for me.

The days seemed very long from lack of occupa-
tion, and the nights also, for we could not sleep for
the roar of the St. Joseph River. Occasionally there
were amusing incidents. One of my men, Gaberio,
had a brilliant inspiration. He thought he would

134

VICISSITUDES

shoot fish with a rifle, and was allowed to go and try ;
but not only were they too quick for him, but, of
course, the water deflected the ball, and the refraction
of light through water makes a true aim impossible.
Gaberio, who had no knowledge of natural science,
covered his defeat by another excuse — u Water too
deep," said Gaberio.

We found here some indication of rudimentary
game laws existing among the Papuans. Round this
region dwelt certain chiefs, in whose territory grew
the play-trees of the raggiana or red bird of paradise.
These gentlemen intimated to us that any one who
came to shoot the raggiana must pay them a fee, as
the birds, by virtue of their coming to play in their
trees, were their property.

As the natives had little to do in camp, they used
to sit round Harry, watching him with the greatest
interest while he posted his diary, and exclaiming at
intervals, "mallelee lo-pi-ang" (good writing). It is
most singular that they should have had a word for
writing, for I found no trace among them even of
picture writing, if we except the markings on the
" bau-bau " or pipe ; but it is probable that they had
some means of communication by scratching on bark,
otherwise the existence of the term seems to be in-
explicable.

At length I saw that a further stay at the St. Joseph
was impracticable. A flood came down and washed
away our bridge, and it was with no great reluctance
that we struck our camp and returned to Dinawa.
On the way we repassed the village of Fa-lo-foida,
which stands on the top of a conical hill surrounded

135

VICISSITUDES

by precipices. It was strongly stockaded, and we had
a stiff clamber to get to the top. To enter the stockade
we had to pass through the outer native house before
gaining access to the centre of the village, a sort of
compound. The stockade was closely built, only a
few bars being left loose for ingress and egress,
and the entrance could easily be shut in case of
attack.

A march lasting from 6 a.m. till 12.30 p.m. brought
us back to Dinawa, where we found all well and in
good order, except our plants and one of the birds.
A " magnificent," a really beautiful specimen of that
species of paradise bird, which one of my boys had
brought in, and which we had hoped to keep in a
cage, had died, probably because when its captor
brought it into camp he slung it head downwards
from a pole, and kept it in that position several
hours. We were heartily sorry to lose so fine an
example of the kellelo, as the Papuans call that
variety.

Two days after our return to Dinawa camp, Sam
rejoined us. He had much to tell, for the times had
been rather stirring with him. My head man as well
as I had received the polite attentions of the Baw-
boi chieftain, who had sent in to say that he was not
afraid of Sam and his gun, and that he would cut off
his head and eat him. After this overture Sam was
careful to camp at the bottom of the hill, but our
adversary did not give up hopes of a Cingalese dinner.
A message came from another village that if Sam
would go there he would be presented with a pig ;
but he knew the Papuan too well. He replied to

136

VICISSITUDES

the messengers that if they had a pig they should
bring it into camp. Of course no pig came.

From Sam we learned further that the Fa-lo-foida
people, through fear of the Baw-boi people, had cut
the suspension bridge, and that the natives farther
up the St. Joseph Biver, on hearing of the tyrant's
warlike preparations, had left their villages and had
settled on the site of the camp I had just quitted.
Their object was, of course, to be near friendly Fa-lo-
foida, which would in time of stress be to them as a
fenced city. This incident led to the formation of
quite a new township, and before I left Dinawa for
good my old camp on the St. Joseph had become a
considerable village. It was a curious example of
the way in which political necessity affected the
locale of village communities.

139

CHAPTER VII
GOOD-BYE TO D1NAIVA

A Beautiful New Orchid discovered and described — Drought
continues — Sufferings of the Natives — I practise as a Physician
— Queer Native Diagnosis — Gaberio, an Intelligent Native, goes
collecting on his own Account — How we kept touch — The
Wireless Telegraph of the Wilds — We determine to take our
Specimens to the Coast — Methods of Preservation and Packing
— Gaberio returns — He tells of the Murder of one of his Boys —
Hardships of Camp Life — Food and Ammunition fail — We try
Cockatoo Soup — A Visit from a Fine Hill Tribe, the Ibala —
They brighten the Last Days of our Stay — Gorgeous Sunsets at
Dinawa — The Ibala People return according to Contract to act
as Carriers — We depart — Trials of the March to the Coast — A
Mishap at Sea — Our Fine Herbarium ruined with Salt Water —
Port Moresby once more.

CHAPTER VII
GOOD-BYE TO DINAWA

Among the scientific specimens I brought back to
Dinawa was a new phallonopsis which I had dis-
covered near Fa-lo-foida as we returned from our
camp on the St. Joseph. This orchid is one of the
superb treasures that occasionally reward the seeker
as he passes through the wilds of New Guinea. It
was found growing in the fork of a tree, where it
had plenty of shade and a rich damp bed of moss
and leaves. The leaves were a very brilliant dark
green, and on the spray, which was quite 3 feet
long, grew thirty magnificent white flowers of
exquisite fragrance. Each specimen must have
measured 2\ inches in diameter when the sepals
and petals were extended. Its whiteness fulfilled
the most rigid canons of the orchid fancier, for in
judging orchids there are whites and whites. The
value is determined by substance. You may get
a white that is very satisfactory, but there is a
thick waxiness of blossom that gives to a plant the
very highest value, and this delightful specimen was
as near the ideal as anything I have ever seen. It
had, of course, pseudo-bulbs, and did not live on
the tree, which is merely used as a means of support,
and the plant draws its nourishment from the humidity
of the atmosphere.

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GOOD-BYE TO DINAWA

Once more we settled down to the routine life of
the camp, but it became plainer every day that, as
there was no sign of the drought breaking up, there
was very little hope of satisfactory work until another
year. The skies were still brazen, and vegetation was
failing more and more. The sweet potato crop had
utterly failed. Those in store had long been con-
sumed, and the natives were absolutely starving round
us. It was no use for them to plant another crop of
sweet potatoes until the rain should come, and they
were wandering sadly all over the forest seeking what
sustenance they could. Their strength was failing,
and their privations were beginning to tell in terrible
emaciation. It was pitiful to see the starving creatures
come into camp, most of them mere skin and bone.
Their children, of course, felt the pinch hardest, and
there were many deaths. To see their condition one
could hardly believe that they would ever recover, but
they bore it all with a wonderful stoicism. Occa-
sionally they would try to catch a pig in their corrals.

The Dinawa people would also come to me for
medicine, and would constitute me their physician
for small complaints, such as headache, but I had
to be very careful in this respect, for I found out
that often they wanted medicine when nothing was
the matter. This recalls to me an amusing incident
of this period connected with my minor iEsculapian
dealings. One morning Doboi, Martu, and Ow-bow
came in, saying that Doboi's mother was ill. On
being questioned as to her symptoms, they told
me that she was aching all over her body, and her
head was particularly painful. Beyond these details

144

GOOD-BYE TO DINAWA

we could not find out anything, and as the woman
was some distance off, and it was not convenient to
go that day, we gave them a headache compound and
sent them off with it. Later in the afternoon the
boys returned and told us that Ow-bow's mother was
dead, but the tidings were not so alarming as at first
appeared ; for they added that " her head was dead but
her stomach was alive," from which I understood that
she was unconscious. The neighbouring Roman Cath-
olic missionary, on hearing this, said that he would
go over the following day. These cases were not new
to him ; in fact, he told us that fainting was quite
common. Obviously, the dead head and the live
stomach was a simple instance of swooning.

During this time we had permitted our man
Gaberio — whom I have already mentioned as being
with us at the St. Joseph River — to go off on his
own account collecting butterflies and birds. Gaberio
was a Papuan whom I had engaged at Port Moresby.
He was very intelligent, capable, and quick, and to
his other qualities he added a knowledge of pigeon
English. I mention him chiefly because the fact of
his absence brought home to us with considerable
force the value of that extraordinary system of inter-
communication prevailing among the Papuans, which
may well be called the wireless telegraphy of the
wilds. For some time Gaberio was, as one might
expect in such a region, entirely beyond our ken,
and although we knew he could take care of him-
self very well, as the days went on, and our departure
was approaching, we felt that we should like to have
tidings of him.

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GOOD-BYE TO DINAWA

One morning, while we were writing home, we
heard the natives calling from hill to hill. In that
pure air their voices carry magnificently for a great
distance, and village answers village with perfect ease
from ridge to ridge. A little later the natives came
in and told us that Gaberio was at a village called
Kea-ka-mana, on the northern slope of the hill beyond
us. It appeared that he was coming back by the
same route as he had gone, and they told us that
he expected to reach camp the next day. We thought
at the time that he might go from Kea-ka-mana to the
Kebea, but the natives said no, so we surmised that
he must have a good collection of butterflies and
birds, for he had had fine weather — finer, indeed,
than Sam, who after all had got together quite a
fine number of specimens. This news set us quite
briskly to the work of preparation for our departure,
for as soon as Gaberio should have returned we
determined to make all speed down to Epa. The
next day we were on the look-out for Gaberio, but
he did not arrive, so we concluded that he had either
gone to the Kebea or was remaining at Kea-ka-mana
collecting. We filled up the day with active pre-
parations for breaking up the camp, and, of course,
our chief care was our collections.

The first precaution was to take measures for the
preservation of our moths and birds, so we made deep
trays from the logs we had already sawn and held over
from our house-building, each tray being strong
enough to resist concussion, for as it would be
carelessly carried, swung on a long bamboo, and
allowed to dash against trees and other obstacles,

148

THE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY OF NEW GUINEA.

The natives shout their news from hill-top to hill-top, thus conveying it with
amazing rapidity.

GOOD-BYE TO DINAWA

the antennae and legs of our specimens would be
easily jarred, and very probably shaken off. The
butterflies did not require such care, for each specimen
was wrapped in paper and laid in sago boxes. Inside
the wooden cases we placed the moth boxes proper,
and in other two cases we laid our birds. Outside
everything we pasted paper, treated with arsenic, to
keep out insects when we should come to the lower
ground, for the tiny ants at Port Moresby are legion
and can penetrate the smallest aperture ; once the
ants enter a naturalist's collection, woe betide it !
Our only trouble during these packing operations was
that we had not any nails small enough, for the huge
ones we had brought from the coast very often split
the wood.

During our last fourteen days at Dinawa we had
one small gleam of good fortune in our collecting, for,
curiously enough, we had quite a run of good nights
with the moths. The nights were dark and misty,
and we very often had sufficient success to encourage
us to remain on the verandah and work until the small
hours.

The second morning after the day we had our first
news of Gaberio there was more calling, and shortly
we heard that our follower was still at Kea-ka-mana,
and that he had after all decided to go to the Kebea,
and would return that way. The next day, while we
were hard at work on our packing, we heard that
Gaberio was on the Kebea — very pleasant news — for
he was right in the heart of the best locality for the
blue bird of paradise and for heterocera. There was
another reason why this news was encouraging, and

151

GOOD-BYE TO DINAWA

that was that a native feast was pending at Kea-ka-
mana, and we had feared that Gaberio might be
tempted to waste his time there in savage orgies.
According to the latest intelligence, Gaberio would
still be absent four or five days, and as he was in
such a fine collecting country we hoped he would
stay out to the end of his tether. Gaberio, however,
did not fulfil our expectations in this respect, for
the next day, shortly after noon, we heard that he
was not at the Kebea at all, but that he was approach-
ing the village on the ridge opposite, about 500 or 600
feet above Dinawa. Three hours later the intelligence
department lied. It announced that Gaberio was at
hand, the fiction being invented, no doubt, out of the
savage's fondness for creating a little pleasurable ex-
pectation. Unconsciously, however, Gaberio himself
disproved the story, for we heard his gun far away on
the heights, and we were able to locate him. Before
nightfall we knew that he was really at the village
first mentioned, for we could clearly distinguish his
tent.

The next morning, September 21, both Harry and I
slept late, for we had had an extremely heavy day.
While we were still in bed we heard a shot from
Gaberio, whom we welcomed back about eleven
o'clock. He brought a really good collection, which
included three blue birds of paradise and four long-
tails. Gaberio's news, however, was not all good, for
he had to report that one of his boys had been mur-
dered. Whether the chief of Baw-boi had a hand in
it, or whether there was a private reason for the crime,
I cannot say. It was not on the Baw-boi side of the

152

GOOD-BYE TO DINAWA

river, so perhaps if it was not fortune of war it may
have been misfortune of love, for the eternal feminine
is as potent in Papua for evil as she has been in other
lands since Eden or Troy was lost. Be that as it may,
the lad, a carrier from the village of Kowaka, about a
day's journey from Dinawa, went out from camp at
Ta-poo-a one night into the forest, and there the
adversary overtook him. It is probable that he was
laid wait for, or he may merely have fallen to the
spear of some wandering marauders. The natives in
camp heard his cry and were speedily on the spot, but
it was too late. He had been speared through the
cheek, and his jugular vein had been severed. In a
very few minutes he died. The victim's own kindred
came in to take charge of the body, arriving even
before Gaberio's messenger could reach their village,
so swift and mysterious is the communication of news
in New Guinea.

Now that Gaberio was back we were more than
ever anxious to leave, for our provisions were running
very low, and we were living principally on cockatoo
soup. To make matters worse we had almost run out
of ammunition, and for some time not even a pigeon
broke the monotony of our poor fare. Occasionally
we procured one or two sweet potatoes, but the natives
were naturally very unwilling to sell them. A further
difficulty stared us in the face, for the exhaustion of
the natives through famine was now so great that I
did not know how we were to get our baggage down
to the coast, but relief dropped, if not from the clouds,
at least from the hills.

One day we heard that the people of Ibala, who

J53 H

GOOD-BYE TO DINAWA

had heard of the white men's coming, had been
sufficiently overcome with curiosity to make the
journey from their distant home to visit us. At that
home of theirs, far away on one of the greater
mountain sides of the Owen Stanley range, I had
often gazed with wonder and all the explorer's long-
ing. Some five or six days' journey to the north
towered a great and mysterious peak, higher than
Mount Yule, the northern slopes of which I imagine
were in German territory. Close to this mountain
was a range of low foot-hills, bare of trees, but
clothed, as far as we could make out through our
glasses, with rich pasturage, and it seemed an ideal
spot for some future stock-breeder in New Guinea,
for such open spaces for grazing-grounds are un-
common in the island. From these foot-hills there
rose continually into the clear air countless columns
of pale blue smoke, telling of a numerous popula-
tion. On the mountain the forests hung dense
to the summit, but the strangest thing of all was
that through these masses of trees there ran what
seemed like a drive, rising straight to the highest
ridge, its sides as sharply and clearly marked as
though it had been cleared by the hand of man.
There were no straggling trees dotted here and there
at irregular intervals from the sides. The forest left
off sharply in an ascending line, but the space seemed
to extend for at least 300 yards, and then the forest
began again, being as clearly defined as the side of a
well-built street. On the very summit we could make
out through our glasses the presence of giant arau-
carias? of which I obtained some specimens from Sam,

*54

NATIVES OF ENUMAKA IN THE OWEN STANLEY RANGE.

GOOD-BYE TO DINAWA

who, while absent on one of his short expeditions,
sent a native up the mountain for seedlings. I hoped
that one of these might find a home in some British
collection, but, unfortunately, it died of the drought.

It was from that region that the Ibala people
hailed, and certainly, had the difficulties of transport
not been so great, I should long ere this have visited
them in their fastnesses. These fine northern men
entered camp very shyly, and sat down with great
diffidence. In appearance they were really handsome.
Each man stood 5 feet 8 inches on an average ; all
were of fine physique and of a rich copper colour.
Their women, of whom they brought a few, were not
quite so tall. They were all in full finery, the men
decorated with feathers, their faces painted in regular
stripes with the juice of a scarlet berry. Between
each red stripe ran a line of charcoal to set off the
colour. A few of them wore the transverse pencil
of tapering shell thrust through the septum of the
nose, a form of decoration much affected by Papuan
dandies. The women's chief article of apparel was
the customary dogs' teeth necklace.

At first our visitors did not ask for anything, but
talked in a desultory way through Ow-bow, who knew
their language. Later in the afternoon, however,
they proffered a request for some tobacco. Here was
my opportunity. These admirable fellows, who had
come from a region where there was no famine and
were in the pink of condition, were just the very
material I wanted for my journey. Accordingly, I
said that they should receive tobacco on condition
that, on their being called by wireless telegraphy,

*57

GOOD-BYE TO DINAWA

they would return and carry me to Ekeikei. They
gave me their word, and I took the risk of their
keeping it. They received their tobacco, but were
in no apparent hurry to depart. In fact, they stayed
two whole days, got over their first shyness, and
cheered us up wonderfully — indeed, it was "roaring
camp ! " Growing bolder, they pried into everything,
and the house was always full. There was great
coming and going with the Dinawa people, with whom
the Ibala people were related by marriage, and the
nights were musical with unceasing mountain choruses.

Nothing would content them but they must see
everything that the white men possessed, and it was
very amusing to watch the men calling the women's
attention to anything that particularly attracted them.
They felt our clothes and looked with curiosity at
our photographs. In their power of appreciating and
understanding a picture, one could realise how much
higher in the social scale they were than their neigh-
bours, the Australian aborigines, to whom drawing was
unintelligible. They would pick out the portraits of
Dinawa characters, and exclaim with great delight, "Ow-
bow — Doboi — Martu," as the case might be. I gave
some additional tobacco to each man who would con-
sent to stand for his photograph, but they never quite
got over their shyness of the camera. Sometimes,
when I had got everything fixed and ready, my sitter
would get up and walk slowly away; some of the
women faced the lens, but even when doing so, they
would often cover their faces. Our visitors did not
understand guns, so we took care not to frighten
them with firearms.

158

GOOD-BYE TO DINAWA

On the third day, about ten in the morning, they
announced that they were going. They got together
the bags in which a Papuan carries his effects, packed
up their new acquisitions, and did a little business
with the Dinawa people in small articles I had traded
with the villagers, such as matches, tobacco, or an
axe, the greatest of treasures — for "trade," in the
Papuan sense, had not reached Ibala. I myself made
a few purchases from them, chiefly of clubs, for
which I gave in exchange some small knives. To
the Dinawa people they gave some sugar-cane, which
was greedily snapped up by our destitute neighbours.
Then they formed up, shook hands most cordially
with us all, took the route, and disappeared into the
forest, a party of men in front, the women in the
centre carrying the loads, and another party of braves
bringing up the rear. For a long time their shouts
came echoing back to us through the trees. It was
a most pleasant interlude, and when these cheerful
fellows were gone we felt the camp almost painfully
quiet.

One or two incidents occurred to break the mono-
tony of the remaining days. While I was collecting,
close to the Aculama, I heard the missionary dog
barking in great excitement, and discovered that he
had seen a tremendous snake. This I shot in the
head and brought into camp, where, on measuring it,
I found it to be 18 feet long and 4 inches in diameter.
It was of a non-poisonous variety — one of those
snakes that live on the small arboreal mammals. I
still retain the skin and skeleton as trophies. Even
minor incidents of these dull days seemed worthy of

159

GOOD-BYE TO DINAWA

setting down, and I note in my diary that one day one
of my native carriers, who was going off to the river,
demanded a gun. When I explained to him that he
could not have one, he remarked with great non-
chalance, "Maw-mo-na yow valeo dorka" — "Enough,
I understand very well," and he went off contentedly
without firearms.

I must not conclude my account of Dinawa with-
out mentioning what was perhaps the greatest of its
natural attractions — the almost overpowering magnifi-
cence of its sunsets. From the ridge I have watched
every variety of colour, ranging from amber, gold, and
orange, through purple and violet, to delicate shades
of mauve, green, and pink — in fact, every hue of the
prismatic spectrum was flung in magnificent profusion
across the sky from horizon to zenith. On certain
nights the whole landscape would be bathed in a
glow of reflected crimson. It seemed as if the world
were on fire. Even the vegetation was dyed a vivid
red, and as the rim of the sun gradually disappeared,
the tints melted to paler shades before they vanished.
A brief period of starless twilight succeeded, and
then the firmament was gemmed with a million spark-
ling points, and the tropic night reigned serene in
its marvel and mystery. Many and many a time I
have sat in rapt enjoyment of that gorgeous spectacle,
watching the constellations wheel westward until the
dawn overtook and hid them.

The day for our departure now began to draw
very near. All the specimens were safely packed,
but the question of transport pressed more and more
heavily. From the Dinawa people, as I have noted,

1 60

GOOD-BYE TO DINAWA

little help was to be expected. The fittest of the
men were abroad in the forest on foraging expedi-
tions, and when we asked the women to carry for
us, they replied that they could not come while their
husbands were away. We sent out our boys to see
what they could do in the surrounding country, but
they invariably came back to report that they could
recruit very few men. We ourselves, after a great
deal of wearisome tramping from village to village,
managed to enlist a meagre band of five fairly able-
bodied assistants, but our party was still very inade-
quate. This was on September 22. A few days earlier,
in pursuance of the compact the Ibala people had
made with me, I had set the telegraph in motion, and
told Fa-lo-foida to call up Keakamana, Keakamana
to call up Tapua, and so on stage by stage to the
distant home of my picturesque mountaineers, to
tell them that the time had come to redeem their
promise and earn the tobacco advanced on personal
security alone. The calling accordingly began, and
in less than ten minutes Ibala of the five days'
journey had received my summons. During the after-
noon the answer arrived. Ibala was willing and
would come. Accordingly, close to the time fixed
for our departure — September 23 — we were cheered
by the return of our merry friends, who came like
the honourable gentlemen they were to discharge
their obligation.

Even with this reinforcement we were still under-
manned, and decided to start with only half the
baggage, leaving Gaberio behind to see to the de-
spatch of the other half when the bearers should be

163

GOOD-BYE TO DINAWA

sent back. On September 23, at 9 a.m., we started
for Ekeikei. At twelve we halted at Madui, where
the natives wished to sleep ; but this, of course, was
out of the question, so we pushed on. As far as
Madui the drought still prevailed. After that point
it was damp, but not wet. In one way the drought
had served us well, for all the leeches had died and
we were saved from that pest; but the scrub-itch
was worse than ever, especially after we passed
Ekeikei. We reached the Bamboo Camp after a hard
march at 7 p.m., and both we and our followers were
thoroughly tired out. Next day we went by way of
Ekeikei to Epa, when our friends from Ibala went
back, having performed their undertaking. We found
Epa terribly parched, and it presented a very different
aspect to that which we had seen three months
earlier. Thence we proceeded to Oofafa, where our
old acquaintance Mavai saw us through with our
impedimenta. We travelled by boat to Pokama, where
we got on board a small cutter and set sail for Port
Moresby. Unfortunately, we encountered very heavy
weather, and had to beat up to our destination under
a lashing south-east monsoon. We shipped many
seas, and thus lost our fine herbarium, all the plants
in which were blackened by salt water. This was an
irreparable misfortune, and most disheartening after
the tremendous trouble we had taken in collecting
and drying our specimens of Papuan flora.

164

CHAPTER VIII

INACTION AND AN EXCURSION

Period of Inaction at Port Moresby — Christmas in New Guinea
— A Scratch Dinner — A Christmas Privilege for Cingalese to
obtain Spirits — Curious Effect on One Individual — A Note-
worthy Character — An Excursion to Hula — A Fisher Com-
munity— A Piebald People — Picturesque Night Fishing by
Flare Light — Fishermen often Killed by Gare-flsh — Hula
Houses — Various Traits of Native Life — A Walk round Hood's
Bay — Traces of Initiatory Rites at Kalo — The Kalo Houses
described — On to Kerapuna — A Shooting Expedition — We lose
the Trail — Class Distinctions at Kerapuna — Return to Port
Moresby by Sea — A Perilous Voyage in a Little Canoe —
Tragic Death of Flood, the Naturalist.

CHAPTER VIII

INACTION AND AN EXCURSION

As there was really nothing to be done until the
beginning of the year, we settled down at Port
Moresby in some spare rooms which Sam, my
Cingalese head-man, let me have in his house.

We occupied our time with the despatch of our
collections. The herbarium, of course, had perished,
but the moths, butterflies, and birds had come safely
down from Dinawa. We did not disturb the boxes
already packed, but merely stowed them in large
cases, packing them with cocoanut fibre and straw
to resist concussion. Each box was tin-lined, and
on receiving its full complement was soldered up.

For the procuring of empty cases I was greatly
obliged to the courtesy of Mr. Ballantine, the Curator
of the Intestate Office at Port Moresby. This work
occupied us in all over a fortnight, and finally we
despatched our collections to England by way of
Australia.

Thereafter the days were very dull and uneventful.
Christmas was fast approaching, but there was very
little hope of its being a merry one — for us, at any
rate. The stores of provisions were running very
short, and our Christmas dinner was probably one
of the queerest that was ever set before an exiled
Britisher. I left the task of preparing the meal

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INACTION AND AN EXCURSION

entirely to Sam, who managed somehow to procure some
wallaby, a piece of bacon, and biscuits. Instead of
pudding we had a Cingalese plum-cake, made by Sam's
daughter, and a glass of claret rounded off the banquet.
Harry and I dined together on the verandah, and
remembered absent friends, but we were not very
festive.

There is one curious observance of the Port
Moresby Christmas which may be worthy of mention
here. At that season any Cingalese resident in the
place may, on obtaining a Government permit, be
served with spirits at the Stores.

The effect of this privilege on one Port Moresby
worthy was truly deplorable. I saw him in the road,
and I have little doubt that he saw more than one of
me, but then, of course, it was a year since he had
permission before. He was quite a character, and his
residence was as peculiar as himself. It was built
entirely of flattened paraffin tins and other oddments,
a style of architecture which I have also noticed in
the West Indies.

Another Port Moresby character was Weaver, the
greengrocer ; he has a history, but no man knows it,
and it is popularly reported that he has a family in
Australia. He has been in New Guinea for some
years, and lives quite alone in an isolated district where
he built a house and took up some land. He stands
6 feet 2 inches, and is a curious eccentric fellow whom
nobody understands. He does not care for visitors,
and has even been known to threaten distinguished
personages with his gun when they dared to knock
at his door ! Twice a week Weaver brings in his

1 68

A PIEBALD TRIBE : THE MOTU-MOTU PEOPLE OF HOOD'S BAY, AND A
TYPICAL KALO HOUSE.

The piebald people are one of the mysteries of New Guinea, and their origin is unex-
plained. The spear in the warrior's hand is made of hard redwood, sharpened, and
has no metal. The house is built on an open wooden framework, and the flooring
of the dwelling-room begins at the bottom of the closed-in gable. On this inflam-
mable floor, within the thatch of flag-grass, they actually have a fire on a mud
hearth. The slanting pole is a ladder for the inhabitants. In some cases they
have little ladders for the dogs.

INACTION AND AN EXCURSION

vegetables, packed on two ponies, and sells them to
Europeans at Port Moresby. It is said that he is
accumulating money. He is perfectly independent,
and quite a character; utterly illiterate, he has the
dogged opinions which usually accompany lack of
education. He believes in himself, has no one to help
him in his work, and tells you quite frankly that he
thinks he could run New Guinea better than any one.
On all subjects under the sun the opinion of Weaver
is absolutely right and that of the world absolutely
wrong.

As the days dragged on Harry and I thought we
would vary the monotony of our life, and obtain a
change of diet, by taking a small excursion down to
Hula, the great fishing-place. By the courtesy of a
trader, who was going down in a whaleboat, we
obtained a passage. A voyage of a few hours took us
down, and we found the village fairly large, built like
Hanuabada, only most of the houses stood in the
water on piles. The shore is thickly fringed with
cocoanut plantations. The people, who belong to the
Motuan tribe, as those of Hanuabada do, live by supply-
ing the inland natives with fish. They go down to the
fishing-ground, about two miles from shore, in small
dug-out canoes, and this industry affords a very de-
lightful touch of colour to the scenery of this part of
the Papuan coast. The fishing is done at night, and
just as the sun sinks the canoes come up past Hula
in great crowds. In each boat are four or five fisher-
men, who pole up the shallows and paddle when they
come to deeper water. As the darkness deepens the
flotilla suddenly bursts into flame, for their method of

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INACTION AND AN EXCURSION

attracting gare-fish, which is their chief quarry, is by
burning huge flares of dried palm leaves. Each of
these flares is made up of a considerable bundle of
leaves, and the men brandish them about in their
hands. The light lasts for a considerable time. The
effect of these many fires, reflected in long tracks on
the water, is extremely picturesque. The fishing
lasts all night, and at dawn the fleet returns with its
catch.

The work is not unattended with danger, for some-
times the gare-fish, which are armed with a sharp
sword-like projection of bone from the front part of the
head, will, as they leap in blind terror of the light,
strike the fishermen and kill them. The natives set
up a stick in the water where any one has been killed
by gare-fish.

Another interesting feature of Hula was the pre-
sence there of a piebald people. For the most part
their bodies were brown, but they were marked with
pinkish patches unevenly distributed. It is not im-
probable that this marking might be due to a disease,
contracted from a too constant fish diet, but if it were
a disease I could not discover that it gave any discom-
fort. Against this theory must be set this fact, that I
observed one man in whom the light markings pre-
dominated. In fact, he was quite fresh-coloured, like
a European, and had light hair. These piebald people
were not a class apart from the rest of the Hula
villagers, but shared their life in every respect.

The piles on which the Hula houses are built look
quite insufficient to support the superstructure. The
pitch of the gables is not always uniform in the

172

INACTION AND AN EXCURSION

same house, and in these cases the ridge pole is not
horizontal.

Before we came to Hula, however, we had paid a visit
to Kappa-Kappa, one of the very few localities in New
Guinea that show any immediate result of missionary
effort and of a direct attempt to introduce the methods
of civilisation. There resides the agent of the London
Missionary Society, Dr. Laws, who has been perhaps
longer in British New Guinea than any other white
man, for his stay now extends over thirty years. The
missionary has a fine house standing on a slight ele-
vation and commanding a magnificent view to the
north and south. A remarkably fine road leads up
to Dr. Laws' residence, and 300 yards away is the
Christian village, built in detached houses along the
rise and forming a regular street. We were very
much amused to notice that the houses were all
numbered, and that many of them had Scotch names
inscribed on a little piece of wood fastened over the
door.

There were about sixty houses in all, and a
really fine church and school. This last we visited and
heard the children sing. They gave not at all a bad
performance for coast natives, to whose discordant
tones I have already alluded, and if my good friends,
the mountain people, with their beautiful voices and
their fine idea of music, had had the same training, the
effect would have been little short of charming. We
saw the place at a slight disadvantage, for the drought
had greatly withered the vegetation, and Dr. Laws'
fine orange trees were all dead. The natives, I was
glad to see, wore their ordinary dress, and no ridiculous

*73

INACTION AND AN EXCURSION

attempt had been made to thrust them into European
clothes. Dr. Laws did everything in his power to
render our visit pleasant, and to him and his wife
we are indebted for much kind hospitality. There
is much that is enviable in his pleasant dwelling-
place, and he seems to be on excellent terms with
the natives. As I have elsewhere had occasion to
remark, it is doubtful whether this generation of
Papuans is capable of much spiritual enlightenment
at the missionary's hands, but the seeds of industrial
progress at any rate are being sown, and the order
and apparent prosperity of Kappa-Kappa say much
for the work of the pioneer. There is no Paradise,
however, without its serpent, and the scourge of Kappa-
Kappa is the black snake, which attacks the natives.

The poison is most virulent, and Dr. Laws told me
that if he could see the sufferer immediately he could
save him, but if only a few minutes elapse before help
is available death must inevitably ensue within an
hour. This snake also kills the missionary's horses,
which it invariably bites on the instep. He keeps the
horses for his little trap, in which, at the close of our
visit, he drove us down to the coast, a distance of
about four miles.

Besides the things I have mentioned, we found little
else to interest us in Hula, and after a short stay we
set off to walk round Hood's Bay to Kalo, the next
village of any importance, situated a little way from
the coast. On the way we passed the little village of
Babacca, the headquarters of a copra trader called
Joher.

Formerly Kalo was the centre of strange cere-

174

INACTION AND AN EXCURSION

monial dances, connected with the worship of the
reproductive powers of Nature.

Initiatory rites were celebrated, and the orgies
taken part in by the young men and women were
often of the most indecorous character. By the
decree of a paternal Government these celebrations
have now ceased to exist. It is possible that they
were accompanied by cannibalism, but I am not aware
that there is any proof of this. Descriptions are
extant, but it is doubtful whether these have been
given at first hand, for the natives would certainly
not have admitted visitors to their mysteries.

The houses at Kalo are the most substantial I saw
in New Guinea. They were built upon 9-inch
posts and were raised 10 or 11 feet off the ground.
It was extraordinary to me how these posts were
secured, the soil seemed so loose and sandy ; about
one-third distance up occurred a cross-piece, above
which there were two others. The lower parallelogram
thus formed was crossed by two diagonal pieces of
bamboo, the third and upper parallelogram by one
diagonal piece ; these were the steps giving access to
the house, and their arrangements will be easily under-
stood by reference to the photograph. The third
cross-piece, above which the gable is enclosed, marks
the level of the floor. There was an open verandah
at one end, and the house had only one room. The
house was eaved, and was thatched with flag-grass,
and the whole structure measured 30 feet by 15
feet. On the inflammable floor, within the thatch,
they actually have a fire on a mud hearth. The
strangest sight of all was the elaborate carvings hung

175 1

INACTION AND AN EXCURSION

up outside, and it was a singular thing that no two
houses at Kalo bore carvings of the same pattern.

We stayed only a few hours at Kalo, and then
went on to Kerapuna, where we arrived about dusk
after a long day's march. At one point our advance
was barred by a small river, very still and muddy
and fringed with rank vegetation, the whole aspect
of the place proclaiming it the haunt of the crocodile.
It would have saved time had we swum across, but
the mere look of the place obviously made it unwise
to do so, so we fetched a slight detour until we came
to a little village where we were able to hire a canoe.

Kerapuna is a fairly large fishing village on the
east side of Hood's Lagoon, just within the entrance.
It possesses its missionary, Mr. Pearce, who lives there
with his wife in great isolation. It is many years
since he has been home, and it is not often that a
European knocks at his door. With him we found
hospitality. He is pleasantly housed and seems very
comfortable and is on good terms with the natives,
to whose spiritual needs he ministers in a little hall.
It is doubtful how far the Papuan can be reached
through theological channels at this stage of his
development. A great deal, however, can be done
towards training him in the simpler industries.

From Kerapuna we went out for a short shooting
expedition in the flat, trackless forest that lies inland.
The region is very gloomy ; tall Pandanus trees with
aerial roots and thickly matted branches obscure the
daylight, but there is no dense undergrowth. There
the gaura pigeon abounds, and we were fortunate
enough to shoot some.

176

INACTION AND AN EXCURSION

The little expedition, however, was rather un-
eventful, except at one point, where we discovered
somewhat to our anxiety that we had lost the trail.
The two natives we had brought with us went, one to
the right and the other to the left, searching for it,
and we kept shouting to each other all the time.
At last, after a couple of hours' search, we found the
track, which would have been visible only to a Papuan,
as there was no well-worn path. We required native
guidance also to get us back to the creek where we
had left our canoe.

If there were no division between the piebald
people and the ordinary inhabitants of Hula, at Kera-
puna we noticed a curious class distinction, founded
not on any physical peculiarity, but upon the mere
question of occupation. One part of the village was
occupied by the fisher tribe, the other part by a
purely agricultural people. The latter were extremely
lazy, and, as I have noted elsewhere, the lazier Papuan
tribes are never fishermen, and always employ some
more active people to do this work for them. The
tillers of the soil and the spoilers of the sea hold
rigidly aloof from one another at Kerapuna, and only
meet on the common ground of an exchange of com-
modities— the fish being purchased for bananas and
cocoanuts. Yet, strangely enough, the more active
tribe was evidently there on sufferance, and was
allowed to remain only because of the fish they sup-
plied. Another remarkable point was, that the fishing
populations dwelt on land and not on pile-built houses,
as at Hula and Hanuabada. In this district we could
get on without any other " trade" than tobacco.

179

INACTION AND AN EXCURSION

As there was nothing to tempt us to remain, and
as Kerapuna, even at the best, was a dull place, we
did not stay longer than four or five days. I was
very anxious, too, to get back to Port Moresby to
make my preparations for a second journey into the
interior to resume my work. We determined to make
the return journey by water, and accordingly hired a
little canoe from a native, who, with a companion,
came with us to act as our navigator.

The little craft was hardly more than 18 inches
wide, and just held the four of us in a rather cramped
position. We set our course, which lay twenty miles
across Hood's Bay to Hula, and started about 10 a.m.
in fine weather. When we had got about half-way,
however, the wind rose, and a tremendous swell began
to come in from the point where the reef opens sea-
wards, and very soon the dug-out was dancing like
a cork and was continually shipping seas, so that
Harry and I had to bale constantly.

I must say, however, that our natives knew how
to handle their craft, and were very expert watermen.
They kept the little square sail of matting under
excellent control, and steered with the flat of a paddle
from the side at the stern. Although they were very
frightened, they did their best, and kept the canoe's
head up to the seas very neatly. For a time, I must
confess, I myself was doubtful whether we should get
through safely. We were dripping wet and in rather
a sorry plight, but after rounding the point close to
Hula we got into calmer water, and we landed safely,
but very stiff and cold.

Two or three days later we bade good-bye to Hula,

1 80

INACTION AND AN EXCURSION

and the same whaler's trading boat that had got us
down took us back to Port Moresby, where I at once
set about active preparations for my second journey
inland.

On my return to Port Moresby I heard, to my
great regret, the news of the death of Mr. Flood, the
American naturalist. When I went up to Dinawa,
while on my first journey, I left Flood in Port
Moresby. Some time after he went up the Venapa
River, seeking land shells. He was foolish enough
to go alone, and his folly was the greater because
he was very deaf. At length the authorities got
alarmed about him, and Mr. Ballantine headed a
search party, but the only trace of the naturalist
was one of his camp fires. It is thought almost
certain that he may either have strayed away and
died of hunger, or he may have been devoured by
a crocodile. It was not the first time that a party
had gone out to seek Flood after his prolonged ab-
sence had given cause for alarm, and it was doubly
absurd of him to go alone, because, even with Papuan
attendants, it is difficult — as I myself have found —
to pick up the trail when once it has been lost. I
was much distressed about Flood, for he was a most
unselfish enthusiast in the pursuit of science.

181

CHAPTER IX

TOWARDS THE UNEXPLORED

Beginning of Furthest Journey into Unexplored Interior —
The Everlasting Question of Carriers — Difficulties and Delays
— Epa again — Curious Method of Water Supply — Mavai wel-
comes us back — He provides a Dubious Treat — Ekeikei — The
Building of a Permanent Camp — An Elaborate Undertaking —
House-building on a Large Scale. — Ingenious Papuan Methods
of Thatching — The Chief Kafulu proves Unneighbourly — He
does not fulfil his Engagements — Ow-bow's Embassy — My
Deputy is robbed — Precautions in Camp against Attack — I
go down to Kafulu and deal faithfully with him — He relents,
and restores Ow-bow's Goods — An Earthquake and Hurricane
at Ekeikei

CHAPTER IX
TOWARDS THE UNEXPLORED

On January i, 1903, Harry and I left Port Moresby
on board Captain Pym's vessel, the Whaup. This
took us to Yule Island, and from that point we
proceeded to Pokama, on the mainland. There
we were met and entertained by Cave, a hospitable
Papuan woman, widow of Captain Williams, a trader.
She has a very comfortable bungalow at Pokama, and
keeps a small store, where she does business with
passing traders, who are always welcome at her house.
She also owns a small light-draught cutter, which
brings sandalwood down from Bioto Creek, and this
boat she is willing to let out to travellers. She
also keeps up the beautiful gardens and fine mango
trees planted by her husband, and she cultivates
custard apples and a delightful fruit known as Sour-
sop. It is the shape of a kidney and about the size
of a pumpkin ; within it is a mass of creamy pulp,
surrounding black seeds. This pulp is most cooling,
and it is accompanied by a pleasantly astringent acid
juice, the whole fruit forming an ideal refreshment for
the tropics.

From Pokama we went by canoe to Yule Island,
where we halted at the Sacred Heart Mission, and
then went on to Aruopaka, where we stayed for
several days in the house of Mr. Russell. Mr.

185

TOWARDS THE UNEXPLORED

Eussell himself was absent, but we joined him later
at Moa, one and a half hours' row from Aruopaka,
a voyage which we made in our host's whaleboat.
From Moa we passed by way of Inawee, Inawa, and
Inawabia to Aipiana, the Government station, where
Mr, Eussell entertained us for five days. In the
curiously-named villages just mentioned we tried to
collect carriers, and at this juncture I sent Harry
back to Pokama to bring on the goods we had left
behind us, appointing to meet him at Bioto. During
his absence Mr. Russell and I went to the southward
through other villages Rarai and Nara, and picked
up twenty more men. On our way through these
southern villages we met Captain Barton, then the
head of the native armed constabulary, and now the
Administrator. With him I spent one night, and
then pushed on to Bioto with my thirty bearers, who,
as yet, had nothing to carry. To perform the journey
adequately I really should have had a force of seventy.
At Bioto we enlisted a few, but our numbers were
still very insufficient. At 4 a.m. in the morning
after my arrival at Bioto, Harry rejoined me, and
during that day we began sending the baggage by
relays to Epa. Harry had been enabled to bring all
our remaining goods with him through the kindness of
the Rev. Mr. Dauncey, who had lent him his whale-
boat. With the help of the Chief Constable, who
gave us the use of his canoe, we got the baggage
along to Ooiafa, from which point I was assisted
by my old friend Mavai, who sent down carriers from
Epa to take the stuff up to Ekeikei. At Bioto the
mosquitoes were at this time a terror, and were

186

TOWARDS THE UNEXPLORED

so thick that one could hardly put food in one's
mouth or take an aim with a gun.

While we passed through Epa on this occasion,
I noticed specially the extraordinary method of water-
supply there in vogue. A spring which supplies the
community was distant some twenty minutes7 walk
down-hill, and twice every day, in the morning and
just before dusk, the women went down to draw
water. This they carried in long bamboos, measur-
ing at least 12 feet. The partitions dividing the
sections of bamboo had been knocked out with a
long, hard stick, the bottom one was allowed to
remain, and these light but unwieldy receptacles,
capable of holding about thirty-six pints each, were
taken to the spring and filled. The open end was
plugged with a green leaf, and the women carried
the vessels up-hill held slantwise over their shoulder.
The bamboo was set up against a shady wall, beside
the house door, and the method of procuring a small
supply of water was comical in the extreme. When-
ever you wanted a drink two people had to officiate ;
a native took hold of the bamboo by the lower end
and you proceeded to the other. It was then gingerly
lowered towards you, for the greatest care had to be
taken not to tilt it too far, otherwise more water
than you wanted would have come out with a rush
and drenched you.

On my reappearance at that village I was very
heartily welcomed by the chief. I found him busily
engaged in hunting the cassowary and the pig,
and generally keeping up his reputation of a great
sportsman.

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TOWARDS THE UNEXPLORED

During this visit to Mavai, the excellent chief,
who kept fowls, presented me with two eggs ; these
we boiled with lively anticipations of a treat, but we
broke the shells only to discover that the eggs were
of a remote antiquity. We passed them on, however,
to Ow-bow, who received them with gratitude, for
he regarded chicken in this form as a very great
delicacy indeed.

I purchased some sago from the chief, and when
we got bearers together I started for Ekeikei. One
day's journey brought us to our destination, which
was situated 1500 feet above sea level, on the foot-
hills of the Owen Stanley range. This point I had
already selected in my mind as the scene of my
future labours, and I at once set about building a
permanent camp. I chose the site in a part of the
forest overlooking a fine valley, and we set to work
speedily, felling the forest trees to make the necessary
clearing. It was a big business, much bigger than
founding our establishment at Dinawa, but I intended
to erect much more permanent structures, which were
to be built large enough not only to serve for scien-
tific work, but as a depot for expeditions to other
districts. The house and two collecting verandahs
were all in one building, one verandah facing the
forest and the other the valley, so as to permit of
work being carried on whatever the direction of the
wind. The whole structure was built on poles 6 feet
6 inches off the ground, so that my natives could
shelter, sling their hammocks, and take their meals
below. This work occupied us three weeks, and in
it we were assisted by Mavai's people, who were

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helped by the villagers of the neighbouring chief,
Kafulu. These came in to lend a hand for the sake
of tobacco and other trade articles they needed.

The best thatch to be obtained in Papua is the
sago leaf, and of this the natives make roofs that
are water-tight and very durable. At Ekeikei we
adopted this method. Along the rafters of our house
we ran horizontal bamboos, and instead of a ridge-
pole roof we had two of these bamboos running from
end to end a few inches apart. The frond of the
sago leaf which we used for this purpose is at least
4 feet long ; it measures 6 inches at the base, and
tapers to a point. To begin the thatch, one takes
the leaf and bends it two-thirds away from the apex.
One starts from the bamboo horizontal that lies nearest
the eaves, and hooks the leaf over, laying the pointed
end out. On the next higher bamboo one hooks over
another leaf, similarly folded, so that its long pointed
end far overlaps the other, and so on until the ridge
of the roof is reached. The operation is thus repeated
until the whole roof is thatched. The space between
the two parallels which form the ridge-pole is finally
covered with grass laid thickly across and across.
The sago leaf is grooved laterally, and forms, as
it were, a natural water-spout for carrying off the
rain.

So durable is this roof that after an absence of
five months we found that our Ekeikei house was
still water-tight. This thatch is, however, a great
harbourage for cockroaches, and there must have been
millions of them in our house. At night we could
hear them rustling among the dry leaves. I could

191

TOWARDS THE UNEXPLORED

not ascertain that they had done any actual damage,
and they had the grace not to fall down upon us.

As soon as the camp was finished we settled
down to our old routine of work, very similar to that
observed during our stay at Dinawa, and for a time
all went smoothly. But suddenly a cloud loomed
upon our horizon in the shape of our neighbour
Kafulu. This worthy, whose village was an hour's
journey off, had often visited the camp while the
building was in progress. He was a very low type
of Papuan, with a receding forehead and a face
altogether ape-like. After his people, who helped
me in my building operations, had been paid off, I
did a little business with the chief himself, and
ordered sago stalks for wattling the sides of the
house. For these I paid in advance, but the sago
was not forthcoming. I made no complaint at first,
and this probably deceived him into thinking I
might be treated with further contumely, for he
suddenly began to threaten my boys, until at last
they would no longer venture out into the forest
to collect. Accordingly, I sent my trusty advocate
Ow-bow and his wife down to Kafulu' s village to
know the reason why he did not deliver the sago,
which was several weeks overdue. Ow-bow was
allowed to take a gun with him, but no cartridges,
and his empty weapon evidently was not impressive.
My emissary's experience was painful ; Kafulu did
not take his life, but he took his effects. Now,
every Papuan carries with him as his most cherished
possession a little net-bag, containing a charming
collection of oddments dear to the savage mind — his

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knife, tobacco, bamboo pipe, matches, which he had
earned, betel-nut and gourd, and little trophies of
the chase. All these Kafulu took from the unfor-
tunate Ow-bow, as well as his blanket, his dogs'
teeth necklace, and other adornments. Thus bereft,
Ow-bow executed a strategic movement to the rear,
and returned to camp with his tale of wrong. Kafulu
then sent in a polite message informing me that he
had no intention of sending the sago, and further,
that I was not to shoot bird, kangaroo, wallaby, or
any game around my camp, for they were his animals ;
otherwise he would burn the camp and kill us all.

As matters stood thus, I considered that greater
precautions were necessary, especially as I knew that
Kafulu had recently broken into and robbed the
mission-house at Ekeikei, for it was more than likely
that a treacherous spear might, in the darkness, pene-
trate the thin sago walls of our house, and perhaps
find its billet. We accordingly built around our beds
an inner screen of i|--inch bamboo poles, and even
though a missile had penetrated the thin sago walls,
it would have been stopped by this barricade.

Matters did not improve, and accordingly, taking
Harry and Sam with me, I determined to go down
and try what a little plain personal dealing could
accomplish with our agreeable neighbour. I found
him in his village, sitting apart, smoking the bau-bau,
and extremely surly. He gave us no greeting, in
fact, took not the slightest notice of us, and con-
tinued to smoke stolidly. We sat down, and I at
once opened the affair, Sam and Harry acting as my
interpreters. I told Kafulu that unless he sent the

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sago at once, and returned Ow-bow's goods, it would
be necessary for me to bring pressure to bear on him.
This was continued for three-quarters of an hour,
entirely on my part, for it was not until that time
had elapsed that Kafulu deigned to reply. He then
remarked that he did not want me in the neighbour-
hood, and that he could not answer for it that his
villagers would not wipe us out. At the end of an
hour he showed some signs of relenting, but the
victory was not yet won. The parley still continued,
and Kafulu resumed his pipe, whereupon I gave him
some tobacco, which he took without thanks. At the
end of three hours certain arguments, which I thought
proper to use, prevailed, and he produced some of
Ow-bow's goods. Ow-bow remarked that that was not
all, whereupon Kafulu promised to send everything,
to deliver the sago, and also that he would not
frighten our collectors any more. With this assur-
ance we shook hands upon it and I returned to
camp.

Two days after the sago arrived, and in four days
the whole of Ow-bow's possessions were returned.
They were brought in by some of Kafulu's villagers
and handed to their owner without comment. There-
after, as far as I could see, Kafulu lived a sober,
righteous, and godly life. I am not sure, however,
although he committed no overt act of hostility, that
he was not the instigator of some trouble which I had
at a later period with the Madui people.

During our stay at Ekeikei we experienced an
earthquake shock, not great but sufficiently alarming.
There were two distinct shocks, which shook the house

196

TOWARDS THE UNEXPLORED

violently, and the phenomenon was peculiar inasmuch
as it was not heralded by any preliminary rumblings
as is usually the case. Many of the other atmospheric
signs usually accompanying an earthquake were, how-
ever, present. There was a tremendous and oppressive
heat with death-like stillness; the skies were inky
black, and there was a perfect deluge of rain, so
heavy that it could easily have been described as pour-
ing down in bucketfuls. Then the heavens opened
with what seemed to be rivers of lightning, for the dis-
charges resembled great main streams with thousands
of fiery affluents, and all around us the thunder crashed
terrifically, seeming at times as if it were inside the
house. For three-quarters of an hour there was no
cessation of the din. A tree just below our verandah
was struck and split from top to bottom, but fortu-
nately no one was injured.

After the worst of the storm had passed, a fierce
hurricane came, tearing up the valley which our camp
faced. We heard its roaring long before we felt
its force. When it came it blew off some of the thatch
of one of our buildings. We were to a certain extent
protected from its full force by the large trees around
us, and at the same time we were saved from the
danger of falling trees, because, with a view to the
emergencies of such storms, we had taken care to fell
all the larger trees for a considerable distance around
our camp. The effect of the on-coming wind heard
at a distance had another weird parallel in the onset
of rain storms, for we heard the rush and patter of a
distant shower long before it was actually raining at
our camp.

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TOWARDS THE UNEXPLORED

At Ekeikei were swarms of wasps that haunted the
low bushes, and concealed themselves under the leaves
so cunningly that the traveller did not perceive them
till he was actually upon them. Their bodies are a
dark yellowish brown. At the least disturbance they all
rise together in a buzzing cloud and take vengeance.
The sting is severe, but the pain fortunately does not
last long. It dies out in six or seven minutes, leaving
a red lump which gradually subsides.

200

CHAPTER X

UPS AND DOWNS

My man Sam goes to the Kebea to collect — We go to the Coast
again with our Specimens — A Dreadful Night in Bioto Creek —
A Crocodile River — A Tempestuous Voyage to Thursday Island
— Fever — Return to Port Moresby — Adrift for Three Days in a
Heavy Sea — A German Captain's Thrilling Story of the Storm
— We return to Ekeikei — A New Trouble — Epidemic of
Measles among Native Followers — Harry goes off alone among
Cannibals — Adventurous Journey of a Boy of Sixteen — Descrip-
tion of Native Village on a 15-inch-wide Ridge.

CHAPTER X

UPS AND DOWNS

The day after I had settled the business with Kafulu,
I sent Sam on to the Kebea to collect Lepidoptera, so
that we might be working two different localities and
elevations at the same time. On April 26 Harry left
Ekeikei to fetch Sam back with the collections he had
made, for we had decided to go back to Hall Sound
and send home our specimens, which the humid
atmosphere was threatening to spoil. In due time
they returned, and after I had examined the results
of Sam's labours, I arranged with him to return to
Foula, where he had been collecting, while my son
and myself went down to the coast.

The journey down was not very eventful, but one
night we spent at Bioto Creek will always remain
memorable to us. At Bioto we put all our cases on
board a canoe, and set out with two natives to navi-
gate the overladen craft to Pokama. As we did not
leave until late we were forced to spend the whole night
in the creek. In our crazy vessel, weighed down
almost to the water's edge, for she had only three
inches of free board, we lay close inshore, under dense
mangrove trees. Sleep was impossible, for we were
assailed by mosquitoes and other discomforts ; added
to this we had to endure the stench of mud, the hoarse
cry of the mound-builder, the clacking of myriads of

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UPS AND DOWNS

bivalves as the tide receded, the incessant rain, the
inky blackness of the night, and the unmistakable
presence of innumerable crocodiles. Fortunately we
did not know then that only a short time before, near
this place, two natives had had a desperate fight with
a crocodile, which lifted one of them right out of their
canoe ; the other fought the crocodile gallantly, and
managed to get his companion back into the boat,
when the saurian, nothing daunted, returned to the
attack, and seized the poor fellow again, dismembering
him.

Although we had not the knowledge of this
accident to add to our troubles, that night in Bioto
Creek, which we spent cramped up in the most un-
comfortable position, was probably the most unenviable
I have ever passed. Darkness fell at 6.30; at
3.30 a.m. we were very glad to welcome the moon-
rise, and saw the light gradually silhouette the dense
matted branches of the mangrove. About 4 a.m. we
left our anchorage, and the dawn saw us well on our
voyage to Pokama. It was wonderful on our arrival
there how soon, under the influence of a good bath,
clean clothes, a white table-cloth, and a decent meal,
we forgot the horrors of the night that had just passed.

From Pokama we went on to Hall Sound, where
we were fortunate enough to find the ketch St. Andrew
about to sail, and on board that boat we secured a
passage. Setting out on the 4th May, we were often
badly becalmed, and on the third day we lay ten miles
off the coast for the whole twenty-four hours. On the
9th we sighted an islet thirty miles from Thursday
Island. This we passed safely, but at 1.30 a strong

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UPS AND DOWNS

tide from the leeward set us to windward of the next
island, where there is a bad reef, and at 4 p.m., when
we were running before the wind at the rate of six
knots an hour, we ran right on to it. As morning
broke we found we were on a shelving reef, and in a
very undesirable predicament indeed. We threw out
stone ballast, and after bumping about for four hours,
and making many unsuccessful attempts to get the
boat off, losing an anchor and chain in the process,
we managed to get clear with the flood tide. Next
night we got into Thursday Island, and, on examining
the ship, we found that some sheets of copper had
been torn off her.

At Thursday Island we were both prostrated by a
sharp attack of fever. This was the first time it had
seized me since I came to New Guinea, and it is not
unusual when a man has been living in the wilds for
some time, and has escaped malaria, that he falls a
victim to it almost as soon as he returns to compara-
tive civilisation and better food. In spite of this
drawback, we were successful in getting our collec-
tions despatched, and at 8 p.m., on the 23rd of May,
on a dark, dirty, and very gusty night, with a nasty
sea running, we left Thursday Island, and steered our
course for Hall Sound. In the vicinity of Bramble
Cay — a dangerous sandbank, about 160 miles from
Yule Island — we had our sails blown away, and were
left in an almost helpless condition, only two small
sails remaining. For the three following days we beat
about in a heavy sea, not knowing exactly where we
were, for we had not been able to take an observation
since we left

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UPS AND DOWNS

On the evening of Friday the 29th May we managed
to get under the shelter of Yule Island, inside the reef,
and into smoother water. This was fortunate, for that
night it blew a hurricane, and there was a heavy sea,
even where we were lying. When daylight broke we
went on, and anchored off the mission station at Yule
Island, whence we sent word to Port Moresby by
whaleboat that, owing to our disabled condition, it
would be impossible for us to go there to clear, for
the Customs regulations are that all vessels crossing
to New Guinea must clear at Port Moresby, Samurai,
or Daru. Of course, we could not beat up to Port
Moresby against the S.E. monsoon without sails,
so we lay there five days, until the whaleboat re-
turned with our clearance. Our stay was any-
thing but pleasant, for we had to remain on board
the small ketch under a blazing sun, as we were
unable to land until we got our clearance from the
Customs.

There was, however, one remarkable diversion
during this weary time of waiting ; for on our arrival
we found, to our surprise, a large iron sailing-ship at
anchor in the sound — certainly the largest vessel that
ever entered it. She proved to be the W. C. Watjen,
a German barque that had gone through a terrible
experience in the very centre of the typhoon, the tail
of which had given us so much trouble. I made
friends with the captain — a hero in his way — who,
without being aware of what an extraordinary feat of
seamanship he had performed, told me in the quietest
possible manner one of the most wonderful tales of
the sea it has ever been my lot to hear. It was

208

UPS AND DOWNS

indeed, in many particulars, almost an exact parallel
to Mr. Conrad's remarkable story, " Typhoon/'

The vessel was bound from New York for Yoko-
hama with kerosene. She had been out from New
York for 196 days without sighting a single ship, and
when off the coast of New Caledonia she encountered
the typhoon. The captain's first warning that a tem-
pest was brewing was, of course, a sudden and unac-
countable fall of the glass. Suspecting what was in
store for him, he went on deck and gave orders to
prepare for a typhoon. In fifteen minutes he returned
to his cabin, and found that in that short space of
time the mercury had actually fallen seven-sixteenths
more, and he knew from that indication that he would
shortly have to face a storm, which he may well have
doubted the powers of his vessel to weather.

Before very long the tempest struck her in all its
fury. For five days she encountered the direst perils.
Her cargo had originally consisted of 80,000 cases of
kerosene, and during the worst of the tempest 20,000
had been thrown overboard. On the very first day the
rudder was carried away, but by extraordinary efforts
the crew contrived to rig a staging at the stern for
steering, and they managed to fit up a primitive rudder.
The captain was injured when the rudder was carried
away, for the long tiller (the W. C. Watjen was so
old-fashioned that they did not use a wheel) swept
round and hit the master heavily on the groin. A
huge hole, six feet in diameter, had been knocked in
the stern when the rudder was carried away, and this
flooded the cabin and the middle part of the ship.
They managed to stop the hole and bale out the cabin,

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UPS AND DOWNS

but the tremendous seas denied the crew all access to
the forward part of the vessel, where the store of fresh
water was kept, and for five days they had nothing to
drink but the dish-water which had been left in the
cook's galley. Strangely enough, there was only one
very serious casualty, the second mate being disabled
by an accident to his knee. The captain told me that
during the worst of the storm they were continually
under water ; the seas seemed to strike them simul-
taneously at bow, stern, port, and starboard, and at
times seemed to descend even from the heavens. How
terrible the force of the tempest must have been was
proved by the fact that the great steel masts of the
vessel, six feet in circumference, had all gone over
the side.

Although thus disabled herself, however, the W. C.
Watjen was enabled to play good Samaritan to a
smaller German vessel in a like plight, and took up
her crew and brought them safely to Hall Sound.
All the bulwarks were carried away, iron plates one-
eighth of an inch thick were peeled from the sides of
the ship, and crumpled up like paper by the force of
the wind and sea. After the fifth day the captain was
able to take an observation, and, by the help of an
old chart, he concluded that New Guinea must be his
nearest land. Crippled as he was, he endeavoured to
make for Yule Island, where his chart, which was in-
complete, told him there was a mission station, and,
curiously enough, he was quite close to his desired
haven when he was discovered and towed in by the
Moresby after seventy-six days' stress. Had the vessel
drifted farther west, she must have gone on the reefs,

212

UPS AND DOWNS

and the crew would certainly have fallen victims to the
cannibal natives. It is really extraordinary how she
managed to escape all the dangers of the coral islands
that dot the seas for at least 200 miles west of Hall
Sound.

The same typhoon wrecked Townsville, unroofed
an hotel, reduced brick buildings to debris and killed
seven men ; at the same time the sea receded and left
the shipping dry.

When we had been lying in Hall Sound some
three or four days, the Merrie England came up
with the Administrator, Mr. Euthven Le Hunte, who
asked us to breakfast, and told us that for some
days he had been very anxious about the St. Andrew
and had been keeping a sharp look-out for us on
his passage from the west.

When we had finally got our clearance we set
about going to camp again at Ekeikei, but it took
us until the 17th June to get together our carriers.
The old difficulties in regard to them again beset
us, but after great trouble and much searching
and persuasion we obtained a somewhat inadequate
force with which we pushed on and got back to
Ekeikei on the 20th June. There five of our boys
deserted.

No sooner were we back in camp than a new
trouble assailed us in the shape of an attack of
sickness among our natives. We had hardly been a
week at Ekeikei and were just settling down to
our work, when one or two boys turned ill and
complained of headache and were very feverish, and
very soon the tell-tale rash proclaimed they had

213

UPS AND DOWNS

German measles. They were very miserable, poor
fellows, and lay, some under the house, and some in
the sun, all showing signs of considerable distress.
Nursing, according to our ideas, was of course im-
possible, for you cannot induce a savage to keep
himself covered up. A curious symptom in one case
was that the boy's speech was affected. We did our
best for them and gave them cooling medicine, and
fortunately they all recovered. As soon as they were
convalescent they wanted to go back to their villages,
and it was very difficult to dissuade them. That would
of course have been a very disastrous proceeding, as
they would certainly have returned only to spread the
infection, which is most easily communicated during
convalescence.

Knowing that they had caught the disease on the
coast, they were, naturally, very reluctant ever to
undertake any other journeys for me to the sea again,
and the situation was altogether very trying, for they
said that the white man brought the sickness. While
it lasted it was a very hard matter to hold the camp
together. Finally, however, when they saw that the
white man was doing everything in his power to help
them, they were reassured. On their own account
they tried to treat themselves, by the peculiar native
method of bleeding, which will be found more par-
ticularly described in the chapter dealing specially
with Papuan manners and customs.

On June 22 we lost Sam for awhile, for we had
to let him go down to Port Moresby to be treated for
some trouble in his leg, but he promised to return in
six weeks.

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UPS AND DOWNS

At the beginning of July Harry set out on a rather
adventurous journey, for I consented to allow him
to go alone to the Kebea. It is scarcely likely that
in the history of British New Guinea an English
boy of sixteen has ever been alone with cannibals.
His difficulties were not long in beginning, and I quote
the following extracts from his diary : —

"Left Ekeikei 5.30 a.m. After half-an-hour one
man played out, so I had to take about 12 lbs. out
of his bag and carry it myself; two hours from Madui
he played right out; a woman carried his load. We
travelled very slowly and stopped often. Did not get
to Madui until 4 p.m. ; found the little bottle of
brandy father gave me in case of need, broken and
contents gone.

"July 2nd, '03. — After changing carriers went on
to Dinawa, and after resting a little, on to the Kebea,
where we arrived at 5 p.m.

"July yth. — I left for Yo-ya-ka, on the other side
of the Kebea, as I wanted to get carriers to go to
Ekeikei to bring up father and Sam. They were very
frightened when I went into the village and would not
come near me. The road was very steep and I got
back very tired. It was a long walk. Could not get
any carriers.

"July 8th. — There is a feast at Yo-ya-ka and I
shall be very glad when it is over, as then I hope to
get carriers. There is not much food here, only
sweet potatoes. A difficult country to shoot or
collect in.

" July gth. — Hardly any food left. The natives of

217

UPS AND DOWNS

the village of Inomaka object to my collector shooting
there, and refuse to permit him to collect butterflies,
so the boy returned empty-handed. I am sending
a few carriers to father, only three. I have been
busy enclosing the end of the hut that Sam had
previously hastily built up, as it was left open. One
of my boys, Matu, left me yesterday and has not
returned.

" July 13th. — Shall be glad of the shooters' return,
for I have had no meat for nine days, only sweet pota-
toes. Last night I tried the lamp for moths and did
not do badly.

"July \\ih. — Shooters return with nothing. Ow-
bow arrived in the afternoon, but no carriers. Got
190 moths to-night and busy pinning them to-day.

"July 15th. — Father arrived at 4.30 p.m."

Amplified Note on the Journey to Yo-ya-ka

For my journey to Yo-ya-ka I started from a point
opposite the Kebea and went down past one of the
Yuni-Yuni villages, situated on a spur of the moun-
tains. We then made a long ascent of some 2000
feet leading up to the same ridge as Mount Kebea
where the village of Yo-ya-ka is situated. It was a
most remarkable place, and it is difficult to convey
exactly to those who have never seen it, the idea of
what these Papuan ridges with their strangely perched
villages are. They come up almost to a razor edge,
relatively speaking, and certainly the free foot-way on
that Yo-ya-ka ridge was no wider than fifteen inches.
This narrow strip of foothold followed the main street

UPS AND DOWNS

of the village, and on each side of it the houses were
on supporting poles. The extreme sharpness of the
declivity on each side, of course, made the houses
much higher on the side farthest from the road than
on that facing it. As structures they were not much
to boast of; there were about twenty of them and
all were tumble-down. The Yo-ya-ka people were
preparing for a feast, and when I arrived the men
were strutting about in their feathers and paint.
Various tribesmen from a distance had assembled;
three were from Tuni-Yuni and some from Bawboi.
Among the visitors we noticed some familiar faces.
A native helper named Gavashana recognised me at
once. He asked me to come in, so I sat down and
gave him some tobacco. The Bawboi people, how-
ever, were greatly alarmed at my appearance. They
began to cry and retreated, saying it was " Fi-fi," that
is, magic. Their acquaintances, however, reassured
them and made them come up to me and shake
hands. I then tried to induce a few men to enter
our service as carriers, but failed, so I determined to
return and started at once. When I had gone a little
way up the ridge, Ow-bow, for some reason best
known to himself, persuaded me to let off my gun,
whereat the whole of the merry-makers turned out
and began to jabber at the rate of nineteen to the
dozen.

I returned to the camp at Mount Kebea, and for
the next week or so experienced rainy weather and
great discomfort. All my provisions were gone, and
I had to live on sweet potatoes and a few birds we
could shoot. I tried eating the Drepanornis AVbertisii,

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UPS AND DOWNS

but it was the most shocking flesh I have ever eaten.
We roasted the bird on a split stick and found it as
bitter as gall ; as was to be expected, I did not go
further than the first mouthful, although I was very
hungry.

220

CHAPTER XI

A BOY OF SIXTEEN ALONE WITH
CANNIBALS

Further into the Mountains — A Murder — The Settlement of the
Blood Price — A Pig for a Life — Harry's Further Adventures
alone among Cannibals — Various other Murders — The Village
of Amana — A Tree House — The Lunatic at Amana — Foula —
A Pretty Village.

CHAPTER XI

ALONE WITH CANNIBALS

The next day or two are thus outlined in Harry's
diary : —

"July iyth, 1903. — Some natives arrived from
Deva-Deva and two from a village close by called
Coo-lu-coo-lu. These natives are going for us to
Ekeikei to fetch up our things, but they ask for a
gun as they are afraid of the Madui people — likely !

"July 2 ist— Father down with fever.

"July 23rd. — Yesterday's report that a man had
been killed proved correct. Getting some fine moths,
about 300 last night — good nights are rare. Sam re-
turned to-day with the three boys he took with him ;
they are to have a few days' holiday and then they
will return to us. Warm, misty, dark nights such as
we are having are best for moths.

"July 28th. — To-night the best night we have had
as yet, 750 specimens — 94 of which were Sphingadae.
On nights like this we do not go to bed at all. Getting
short of boxes. We have to send to Ekeikei for
material."

Note on the Murder of Ow-bow's Brother

One evening we heard a woman wailing down in
the village and knew that something was wrong.

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Shortly afterwards the natives began calling, and we
learned that some one had been killed. A messenger
came up to tell us it was Ow-bow's brother who had
been murdered. The latter man was much discon-
certed, and tried to persuade himself that it could not
be so. Later on, however, the messenger came up
with indisputable news, and we heard that the murder
had been occasioned by a proceeding that was to some
extent romantic.

It seemed that Ow-bow's brother had some time
before stolen the murderer's wife, and taken her away
to his own village and kept her there. After a time
it occurred to him that having got her he might as
well pay for her, after the native manner, and
accordingly he visited the husband in order to settle
his account. The husband, however, was not disposed
to receive compensation of this sort, and accordingly
he killed and ate the other. There is no doubt that he
had heard of the man's intention to come and see him,
and that he laid wait for him. The victim was either
speared or clubbed.

The wailing for the dead man lasted about four or
five hours, which is about the limit of Papuan mourn-
ing. After that time a murder becomes merely an
interesting subject of conversation, and the people
gathered around the camp fires, eagerly conversing in
low tones until far into the night. At first their dis-
position was to demand a life for a life, that they
might slay and eat, although, curiously enough, they
would not have committed cannibalism in the presence
of a white man or a native woman !

Next day our people and the villagers held a con-

224

HARRY PRATT.

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ference ; they did not meet, however, but simply
contented themselves with calling from ridge to ridge.
Gradually the idea of the vendetta wore out of their
minds, and at last it was proposed that the murderer,
instead of paying a life for a life, should simply pay a
pig for the murdered man.

Accordingly two messengers brought in the com-
pensation, slung on a pole. The pig was solemnly
slain and eaten, and the incident was closed.

The next extract from my son's diary is more
important, for if his journey close to the Kebea was
risky, it was not nearly so sensational as one he had
afterwards to make back to Ekeikei in order to relieve
our higher camp from the pinch of hunger. His own
account, however, scarcely gives a hint of the peril he
was in.

" July 30th. — All the boys engaged to go to Ekeikei
for the sago have run away, as they say that the
natives at the village of Madui are hostile. Sam has
gone out carrier hunting and obtained only two.

"July 31st. — I left this morning (as we are out
of trade and provisions) at 6 o'clock for Ekeikei,
arriving there at 4.30, but it was 2 a.m. before I
could rest;

" Sat, Aug. 1st. — Left Ekeikei early about 7 a.m.,
and reached Madui about 4 o'clock. Had a bad night ;
it was very long, and I had no sleep at all. The mist
very thick over the Madui hills. A good night for
moths had it not been so light."

" Aug. 2nd. — Eeached the Kebea at 3 p.m.

"Aug. 3rd. — Very busy making sago boxes.

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" Aug. 4th. — They killed another man at Madui the
night I was there — they are killing a lot of men,
women, and children."

The incident here outlined by my son may well bear
a little further amplification. Trade and provisions
had all but failed us, and I could not possibly go back
myself to our base at Ekeikei without serious loss of
time. It would have been out of the question, too, to
take back the whole party. There were sufficient
indications of the unrest among the natives at the time,
and consequently it was nothing but the direst neces-
sity that induced me to accept Harry's offer to go down
himself with a few carriers to bring up what we required.
I had great confidence in the lad's common-sense, he
knew the language, and he seemed to have the knack
of dealing with the natives. After serious considera-
tion of the risk, therefore, I agreed to let him go. At
first it was not easy to get our carriers to undertake
the journey, so evil was the reputation of the village
of Madui through which the party must pass, but after
persuasion we got the consent of a sufficient number,
and not without serious misgivings, which I was care-
ful to conceal, did I watch the little party set out. The
matter, however, was urgent. Starvation, rebellion,
and desertion of my followers threatened us had we
been left absolutely destitute. On the way down Harry
and his party got through Madui safely. They reached
Ekeikei, procured what they wanted from our stores,
and began the toilsome ascent once more. At Madui
trouble awaited them. There had been a native fracas,
a man had just been murdered, and the blood-lust

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was strong in the people, who, on Harry's arrival,
demanded that he should give up one of his boys to
be killed and eaten. My son, though well armed, had
the wisdom not to make any parade of force, and
resorted to persuasion. After much argument, he
persuaded the Madui people to forego their demand,
but it is not surprising that during the night, in the
course of which another murder was committed, he
kept the strictest watch, allowing himself not a wink
of sleep. One can well believe he found the vigil
"long." In the morning they got clear away with
their loads, and the same evening I was, needless to
say, relieved and delighted to welcome them back to
my camp on the Kebea. No youth of my son's age
has ever, I am sure, undertaken so hazardous a journey
among the New Guinea cannibals.

" Preparations to leave the Kebea for Foula.

"Aug. 8th. — Left the Kebea at 9 a.m. Left eight
loads behind me. Eeached Coo-lu-coo-lu at 11 a.m.
We ascended a hill 4000 feet high, then descended
2000 feet, very steep, then up again to Coo-lu-
coo-lu. Many of the inhabitants are absent making
sago.

"Aug. nth. — Kept two days for our relays. Only
by studying the daily routine of this journal can any
one realise the difficulty of getting about in New
Guinea.

" Eeached Ba-booni after three hours' walk, and
then descended 1000 feet to the river Aculama.

"Aug. 12th. — We arrived at Amana at 10 a.m.
There is a tree-house here, 40 feet above the ground —

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used as a look-out station. A small village, and the
people bad. About two months ago the chief mur-
dered a man and a boy close to our yesterday's camp.
We heard of five other recent murders. There is a
lunatic here, the first and only lunatic we saw in New
Guinea. We sent an armed native to call Foula to
our aid for carrying."

Notes on Amana and the Tree-House

Amana was a most peculiar village, and like Yo-ya-ka
was built on an extremely narrow ridge, so narrow
indeed that we could not pitch our fly-tent there, but
slept in a house the front part of which overhung a
precipice. The house commanded a most lovely view
far away into the valley, the slopes of which were
covered with dense wood. We could see the river
flashing at intervals through the greenery ; it must at
least have been 1 500 feet below us, but the roar of the
torrent came up to us with great distinctness. As we
approached Amana our carriers suddenly put down all
their loads and would not enter. On being asked why,
they said that some time before the chief of Amana
had killed one of their people.

We went in and made the acquaintance of this
worthy. He was rather a personable character, quite
bald, and with a very noble forehead, but, like most of
the more degraded aborigines, he could not look the
white man in the face. On hearing of our approach
he became frightened and retreated to a tree-house,
one of the most remarkable curiosities which we saw

230

pa a

< 8

h 1

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in New Guinea. In the village was a large tree, the
trunk of which reached up about 20 feet bare of
branches, and then the main stem divided into a
fork. Among the branches were two platforms. To
the first there was a very rude ascent, a rough ladder
consisting of two uprights with rungs placed at an
angle of at least 65 degrees. Above that was the
second platform, forming the bottom of the house,
which was reached by steps, very narrow, but not
so far apart as the steps of the lower ladder. The
tree-house is not uncommon in New Guinea, but it is
very exceptional to find two platforms. The uprights
and ladders were made of bamboo, and the rungs were
made of boughs cut anyhow with walo, a species of
cane which grows to a length of 20 feet, and is used
for lashings. Each cane is the size of a thick pencil,
and has a spiky outer cover. This is peeled off when
the cane is ripe, and it is then split, an operation
requiring great dexterity, and one which can only
be performed by the Papuans themselves, for none
but a native could split a 20-foot cane cleanly down
its entire length.

The higher platform which supported the house
measured about 12 feet by 6 feet; it was made of
bamboo cross-pieces, interlaced with bark. The roof
was covered with grass, and the only aperture was one
small door, over which the thatch came closely down.
There was just room for a person to crawl in.

We had considerable difficulty in inducing the
chief to leave his retreat, but at length he summoned
up sufficient courage to come out and speak to us.

At Am an a we noticed no conical houses, the dwell-

*33

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ings being for the most part of the kind known as the
" lean-to."

We noticed various other curiosities at Amana.
One was a rather mysterious grave, just outside the
village at the point where the carriers put down their
loads. This place, which for some reason or other was
regarded as sacred, was surrounded by a low stockade,
but no attempt was made to keep the enclosure — which
was quite overgrown — in order, and we learned nothing
regarding its origin, for the Papuans are a people with-
out a history.

The people wore an ornament, which we also
noticed among the Tugeri in Dutch New Guinea.
This was the oval, highly-polished grey seed of a
species of grass which grows at Amana. The villagers
wore the seeds on strings or singly in their hair. The
Tugeri string the seed into necklaces and wristlets.
As the grass grows only at Amana, it is a certain proof
of communication between the Tugeri and the hill
tribes.

The Lunatic at Amana

In the village of Amana we met the only half-
witted Papuan we saw in New Guinea. He had been
imbecile from his birth, and at the time we saw him
his age was probably from 28 to 30, but it might have
been less. He could not speak and was very deaf.
He was of a very pale coffee colour, and might
probably have stood about 5 feet 6 inches, but he
was strangely bent and very thin. He communicated
with his fellows by means of signs, and was regarded
in the village as quite an amusing character. In fact,

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to the best of my belief, he was maintained by the
villagers simply because of the amusement they got
out of him. He had a mother alive who was quite
sane, but he himself lived alone, and was very nervous
about coming out to see the white man. The tribes-
men, however, were determined to show him off, and
after a great deal of persuasion he was brought up to me.

They made signs to him to dance, and this was
evidently a common pastime, for, without the least
reluctance, he began his performance, which was un-
skilled enough and slightly repulsive. His dancing con-
sisted of wobbling the head and feet at a tremendous
rate and putting out his tongue. As soon as he began
to show off, the Amana people sat down in front of
him and enjoyed the spectacle. He took his mission
of purveyor of diversion with deadly seriousness, and
all the time he danced he made a strange mumbling
noise. He was popular with the children also, and
they would bring him out and set him dancing when-
ever they felt dull. For clothes he wore the usual
native costume of the mountains, except the tight
belt, which was perhaps too much an adjunct of
dandyism for this unfortunate to affect. Not only
would he dance at the word of command, but he would
take off all his clothes to order, and carrying his
meagre garments over his arm, he would run from one
end of the village to the other clapping his hands in
slow time. It was considered superexcellent fun to
make him dance with his clothes off, and all the time
the Philistines made game of the poor creature, who,
however, was no Samson !

Another primitive jest was to give him unpalat-

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able and impossible things to eat, but they had the
decency never to let him actually eat a gift of char-
coal— a not uncommon present — although they allowed
him to come within an ace of doing so. He was
tremendously greedy, and when cooking or eating was
going on he would try to grab all he could. As soon
as we began to prepare a meal he lost all fear of us,
and pursued his usual tactics. He would snatch at our
plates like a dog, seize as much as he could, and long
before one could say that curiously cumbrous phrase
" Jack Robinson," he would have it all stuffed into
his mouth. If we told him to go away, he would
remove himself for about five yards and sit down. In
a very few minutes he had crawled up again and would
make another raid upon our dishes.

We had some most interesting conversations re-
garding the lunatic with Ow-bow, who told us what
was to be known of his family history. Ow-bow said
descriptively that he was " bad inside," and added
oracularly, " Olana lakuana," which means, " Head no
good." We asked particularly if such a person would
have been allowed to marry, whereupon Ow-bow gave
an emphatic negative, saying, " Wabeeni daba kadena
enai makana afn?" which is literally, " Woman what
kind this fellow have ? " (" What sort of woman would
have this fellow ? ") The poor unfortunate was, how-
ever, extremely harmless. One could do what one
liked with him, for he was never known to lose his
temper.

"Aug. 13th. — Several carriers came, and we started
at 10 a.m. and arrived at Foula at 3 p.m. It is a

236

•LOOKING DOWN A NATIVE HANGING BRIDGE.
2. — A SIDE VIEW OF THE SAME BRIDGE.

ALONE WITH CANNIBALS

fairly large village for this part. They speak quite a
different language from that of the Kebea and Dinawa.
We rigged up a temporary verandah for our work. To-
day we got a few good butterflies, but few moths at
night ; too much light. The height of our camp here
is 2600 feet. We bought a pig to-day, killed it, and
found it quite a treat ; the meat was very good, and it
afforded us fat for cooking."

Foula Village

Just before the entrance to Foula village we noticed
the evidences of a great land-slide, which had left the
ridge of rock, along which our path lay, as clean as a
piece of china. The path had thus been rendered
perilous, but the natives had had the sense to put up
a light bamboo rail on each side, and this was ex-
tremely fortunate, for there was hardly room for the
foot, and a slip would have certainly meant disaster,
for the descent was sheer on each side for several
hundred feet.

Foula is one of the sweetest villages imaginable.
There are really two villages — the upper and the lower.
The upper one contains about fifteen to twenty houses
arranged in a circle, and the approach to it is through
an avenue of beautiful crotons planted by the natives.
To reach the lower village one had to descend for
about ten minutes. This other hamlet, which is
picturesquely situated close to a fine waterfall, is
divided into two parts, a narrow ridge connecting
the two. The houses in this village stand in a

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line, and are very substantially built. Past them
runs what looks like a road of well-trodden red
clay, which seemed as if it had been rolled, and the
whole place had the appearance of being beautifully
kept.

The Foula people were of a Jewish type of feature.
Their language differs considerably from the dialects
we had heard.

240

CHAPTER XII

THE UNEXPLORED : AMONG PAPUAN
PEAKS

Still Higher in the Owen Stanley Range — The Road to Mafulu
— Beauties of the Forest — The Hill Step— Curious Habit of
Walking acquired in Abrupt Ground — Cold at High Altitudes —
A New Camp built — Alpine Signs in Insects and Flowers —
Routine Work — Food runs low again — Native Thieves — Fol-
lowers discontented— They fear the Hostile Mafulu People —
Daily Threats of Desertion— Strict Watch— My Rule for Night
Visitors — Compulsory Carrying of Torches and Disarming —
Weirdly Picturesque Night Scenes — Further Privations — Bird
of Paradise Soup — Ugh ! — Decide to depart — Natives burn down
Camp to ensure our going.

CHAPTER XII

THE UNEXPLORED: AMONG PAPUAN PEAKS

From the Kebea to Mafulu it was a five days' journey
along the most rugged, toilsome, and difficult path.
At one point one has to traverse a ridge which turns
in a half-circle, and at the very top it is scarcely more
than 6 inches wide, sheer precipice running down on
each side. The dangers of the road were, however,
somewhat compensated for by the magnificent view
which one could enjoy from that point, and a butterfly-
collector had also something to reward him. As we
rested there, after having passed the most dangerous
part of the ridge, along which we had to crawl on our
hands and knees, I saw some of the rarer Papilios in
fairly large numbers. Unfortunately, they were all
rather worn specimens and of no value for the collect-
ing-box, and I was sorry that I was not there earlier,
so as to have captured these butterflies when they had
freshly emerged from the chrysalis. They measure
about 3 inches across from wing to wing, and are
of a most brilliant pea-green, shot with a lovely mauve
sheen on the under wings. The descent was very,
very steep, especially the last portion of the road,
where it descended abruptly to the creek. We had
to hold on by roots and vegetation and to look most
carefully after our footing, for a false step might have
sent us down a precipice, falling sheer for 800 feet.

243 m

AMONG PAPUAN PEAKS

But for the support of the growing things we could
not have made the descent at all, and the marvel was
how our carriers managed it with their heavy loads.
They seemed, however, quite unconcerned, and took
no notice of the dangers besetting them. They would
never think of lightening or setting down their loads,
but moved on in a zig-zag, catching hold of the creepers
as they went, without effort. The bed of the creek,
when we reached it, we found to be full of boulders.
While my men took a bath, I examined the gravel in
the river-bed, for it looked tempting for the mineral
prospector. By way of experiment, and to pass the
time, I washed out a panful or so of gravel, and noticed
a few colours in the sand that indicated the presence
of gold. It is not improbable that the prospector who
worked that creek would find considerable trace of
mineral wealth. Here I saw the indigenous bread-
fruit, about the size of a cricket ball, and full of kernels
smaller than a chestnut, only with a thinner rind and
of a chocolate rather than a red-brown colour. The
natives boil it, and we found it floury and very palat-
able, though slightly bitter. The Papuans are very
fond of this fruit when they can get it.

We ascended, by way of one of the two villages
known as Foula, for four hours, the climb being all
the way through dense forest soaking with the
humidity of the atmosphere. Even the hot sun seemed
scarcely to affect the prevailing damp. The rocks
which beset our path were covered with lovely-shaded
begonias, ferns, and trailing creepers, intermingled in
richest profusion of golden tints. In the early morning
the forest is alive with bird-life. The trees are of

»44

AMONG PAPUAN PEAKS

strange magnificence, particularly the mountain Pan-
danus, with its aerial roots, which cover an immense
space and all converge into one stem 60 feet above
the ground, whence the trunk runs up perfectly
straight. Around us; everywhere were also tree ferns,
some of them rising to 30 feet in height, and besides
these there were the enormous Lycopodiums with
leaves 10 feet long. These luxuriant forms of vege-
tation were thickly clustered upon the trees, and some
of the masses must have been of enormous weight.
They displayed a glorious profusion of scarlet, which
had taken full possession of its supporting tree, for
far above the domed mass of this superb parasite one
could see occasionally large clusters of brilliant
blossom here and there. More humble, but still very
beautiful, was a little fern, similar to our Parsley Fern,
which was distinguished by an exquisite iridescent
blue all over the upper side of the leaf, while on the
under side those fronds that were in seed showed a
most brilliant golden yellow. Parrots great and small
flashed about us, and now and then we caught a glimpse
of the white cockatoo with the yellow crest that is
found all over New Guinea. As we passed among
the feathered colony, all these birds set up a
tremendous screeching. The cockatoo, as I had
occasion to know at a later period, can, when
wounded, bite most cruelly. Of animals we saw little,
for the inhabitants of this region are mostly arboreal
and nocturnal. There are several species of the
smaller animals, including the tree kangaroo, of which
I wished I could have secured some specimens. These
are born very imperfect, and are placed in the pouch ;

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AMONG PAPUAN PEAKS

when they are once there the mother squeezes the
milk into their mouths.

We found the village of Mafulu very small and the
people extremely shy. One or two men were about,
and the women were at work in their gardens. We
sent on some of our men to discover the best possible
camping-place, a work of considerable difficulty, for
there are no plateaux in the Owen Stanley range, and
the contour of the ground, as I have already indicated,
is terribly abrupt. In fact, when one has travelled for
some weeks in these regions, a peculiar habit of
walking is acquired, which is somewhat equivalent
to a sailor's sea-legs. This acquisition the traveller
does not find out until he returns to low, flat ground,
when he suddenly realises that he is stumbling at
every step, and some practice is required to recover
the ordinary method of locomotion, and he has to
break himself of the habit of lifting his knees almost
to his nose. About an hour's march from the village
the men discovered a fairly level spot, and by the
time we came up they had, with axes and knives,
begun to cut a clearing of the undergrowth to enable
us to pitch our camp. We set up our own fly-tent
and the natives two tents and built a large fire, for
it was very cold and the boys were beginning to feel
the climate of that high elevation. Indeed, during
our whole stay at Mafulu we felt the stress of the
climate severely. That first night was very chilly,
and it was necessary to serve out blankets to the
natives in order to enable them to withstand the
cold. They slung their hammocks on sticks or trees,
sometimes one above the other, and close to these they

248

AMONG PAPUAN PEAKS

built large fires and kept them going during the
night. The sky at night was clear and starlit, but
the morning brought clouds, and mists enveloped the
forest, often accompanied by heavy rain that made the
place most depressing. The view was entirely shut
out ; everything was dripping ; our clothes were very
soon saturated, and the whole situation was most
uncomfortable.

The humidity of that region was proved by the
fact that the under side of the leaves of various plants
was covered with moss.

The day after our arrival we began the building of
a proper camp. We felled trees, erected a stockade
and also a platform some little distance above the
ground ; over this last we threw the fly-tent, making
a floor to it of split bamboo. Inside the tent we
arranged to have a fire in the native manner. We
put down a wooden frame, inside which we laid
earth closely patted down to form a hearth in the
Papuan style. After building our abode we had to
discover another spot where we could carry on our
work at night. When this was found, a further task
awaited us, for the forest came so close that we had
to open up a space to enable our lamp to shine out
and thus attract the moths. To do this we had to
fell more trees, and the precipitous nature of the
ground rendered our task all the harder, for once
when we had allowed a large newly-felled trunk to
slide, it got out of hand and careered three or four
hundred yards down the precipice, taking other trees
with it. Finally, however, we managed to open up a
gap towards the camp, which left us an excellent

249

AMONG PAPUAN PEAKS

clearing for scientific purposes. Here we built our
collecting verandah, and thither we repaired every
night, a little journey requiring some self-sacrifice, for
as we went those dreadful leeches I have already
described attacked our feet and legs unmerci-
fully.

We had to do a good deal of our work unassisted,
for our natives were not willing to accompany us, as
they feared the Mafulu people. We knew perfectly
well there was some risk, and never went up to the
verandah without taking our revolvers. As we
worked there through the small hours, our position
was brilliantly lighted up by our lamp, so that, had
the Mafulu people wished to do so, they would have
had every opportunity of taking a good aim at us.
Fortunately, however, they did not realise that while
our lamp made us very visible to them, it rendered
them entirely invisible to us, and although we some-
times felt rather uneasy, we never received any un-
pleasant reminder in the shape of a hurtling spear.
Had they known, however, how entirely we were at
their mercy, we might not have escaped.

As we pursued our collecting here, it was in-
teresting to note the Alpine signs in insects and
flowers. On the trees grew a very fragrant rhodo-
dendron. Moths were plentiful, but butterflies were
not, for everything in this dense forest was struggling
for light, and the butterflies had accordingly retired to
the tops of the trees. Here I counted at least twelve
different species of paradise birds.

We had not been long at Mafulu when we were
faced with another trouble. Our food supply began

250

AMONG PAPUAN PEAKS

to run low. We found that the tinned provisions
had been tampered with, and suspected native thieves ;
our suspicions one day being confirmed, when our dog
Yule brought in from the forest two empty meat tins
which had been broken open with the axe. This
evidence was incontestable, for we ourselves always
used the tin-opener. Of course, when we taxed our
Papuans they were ignorant of the whole affair. This
theft did not improve our larder ; meat ran out, we
had very little tea and no sugar, only a scanty supply of
flour, and, worst of all, no salt. We were accordingly
dependent upon sweet potatoes and yams, which we
purchased from the Mafulu people, and occasionally
a few bananas were obtainable. The boys soon began
to grumble about the cold and lack of food, but the
real reason of their discontent was, of course, fear
of the Mafulu people. Every day deputations waited
on Sam and myself and threatened to leave. It was
evident that the discontent was stirred up by two
ringleaders, so we found out who these were and
talked to them very severely, telling them they might
go ; but two men would not dare to venture back to their
own village through a hostile country, so, of course,
our permission to leave was not taken. These troubles
were very annoying, for we wanted to remain as long-
as we could, as we were getting admirable specimens,
but about the fourteenth day of our stay matters had
come to such a pass that we had to give the men a
definite promise that we would leave in a week.

With such a state of things constant vigilance
became necessary, and we had to divide the nights
into watches. Sam would take three hours and

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then I would take three hours, and some of the
natives were always awake for fear of other natives.
It was very lonely in camp, but we passed the time
smoking and watching a few sweet potatoes baking
in the embers. As our own fellows were disaffected,
it was necessary also to keep them under constant
observation. From the tent we could watch their
quarters, and Sam made a bamboo bed in the mens
shelter. They, poor fellows, had rather a rough time of
it, apart from their fears and discontent, for one night
a tremendous deluge of rain swamped their quarters.
Next day they went into the forest and cut a large
quantity of bamboo leaves, with which they made a
splendid rain-tight roof about 6 inches thick. As
it would have been a pity to have left without doing
our best to get specimens of the paradise bird, we
sent all our shooting boys away and allowed them
to take a tent with them. The long-tail paradise
birds frequent the Pandanus trees when they are
in seed, and when the shooters found a tree in that
condition they would camp near it and lie in wait
for the birds. While this little expedition was out,
Sam, Harry, myself, and a boy remained alone in
considerable anxiety, for while the guns were away
none of us had any sleep.

I cannot say that we had any actual threats, but
the country round about us was disturbed, and great
numbers of the Kabadi people, who had been to
trade with Mafulu, and were returning home, began
to stream through our camp. They came through
in strings, at intervals of an hour or longer. Some
of them carried pigs that they had received

254

THE AUTHOR AND SOME NATIVE COLLECTORS.

AMONG PAPUAN PEAKS

from the Mafulu people after dances and entertain-
ments. These companies consisted of men, women,
and a very few children. Several of them were painted
as for a festival, and they always passed through the
camp as quickly as possible, taking no notice of us.
The Mafulu people used to visit us a good deal with
the ostensible purpose of trading, but they always
took care to come armed with spears. This I did
not like at all, so I directed them to lay down
their arms before they entered, and if they came to
visit me after dark, I said they must light torches
and hail me from the edge of the clearing as they
approached. This they did, bat they seldom came
at night after I had put this restriction on them.
The few times, however, that they did come with
their torches, the sight was weirdly picturesque as
the lights came glinting through the trees, and then
congregated at the edge of the clearing, the flickering
glare throwing up the lithe, bronze figures of the
warriors into fine relief as they stood there waiting for
permission to enter the white man's enclosure. They
seemed to have a lot of intimate conversation with
our people, although only one of our men knew their
language. They were, however, content to do their
talking through the interpreter.

Before we left, our food had practically run out
and we were feeling the pinch very badly. Both
Harry and I were growing extremely thin, and we
were always taking in reefs in our belts. As regards
weight, however, we were in fine walking form. The
nerves of my people got no better. Sometimes they
would hear the Mafulu people calling, and then they

257

AMONG PAPUAN PEAKS

would be on the qui vive, thinking something was
about to happen ; they were, in fact, like men living
on a volcano. Before we left we were in such stress
that we were compelled to try bird-of-paradise soup ;
it was truly abominable, and after the first spoonful
we got no further.

All our things were packed, and Harry and I were
inside taking the fly-tent down, when suddenly we
heard a terrible uproar among the carriers. I rushed
« out, but by the time I got into the open I found one
of the native houses in flames, and in less than ten
minutes the whole camp was ablaze. I immediately
demanded of the boys what they meant by this act,
but they seemed to look upon it as a great joke, much
as youngsters at home would regard a bonfire. It is
not improbable that their object was to compel me
to go, for the previous day my shooters had brought
in twelve paradise birds, at which I had shown great
delight, and they probably thought that I should be
tempted to prolong my stay. It is just possible that
I might, for the last days were the richest we had
had so far as the capturing of birds and specimens
was concerned. When the camp was still roaring up
in flames we departed with our few remaining
followers, the main body having gone on already
with the chief part of the loads. One thing that
makes me sure that the firing of the camp was
deliberate was that the outbreak occurred in two or
three places simultaneously.

258

CHAPTER XIII

LAST JOURNET TO THE COAST

A Dangerous Stream-Crossing — Babooni — Sunshine once more
— Successful Work — Poor Fare — Messengers to Ekeikei — The
Tree-Cabbage — Method of Cooking Tree-Cabbage — A Great
Curiosity— Spiders' Webs as Fishing-Nets — Dancing Festivals
— Back to the Kebea — Our Bean Crop — A Papuan Parliament
—We obtain Credit— A Wife-Beater— My only Act of Perfidy—
The Journey to Ekeikei — Back to the Land of Plenty — Last
Visit to Epa — Mavai unfriendly — He is talked over and supplies
Carriers — Example better than Precept — The Coast again — An
Accident — The Natives drink Sea-Water — Good-bye to the
Mountaineers.

CHAPTEE XIII
LAST JOURNEY TO THE COAST

From our camp at Mafulu a march of from five to
six hours brought us to Foula. On our way we rested
at a little village, one of those belonging to the Foula
people, but situated on the opposite ridge. There I
missed my prismatic compass, and was rather con-
cerned, but I ordered a thorough search in the bags,
and was glad to find it. At this village the natives
were reluctant to move on, and I believe that they
were aware we were about to have bad weather, for
before we had gone much farther we were in the
midst of a deluge. I accordingly paid off all the
unwilling carriers and allowed them to return home,
hoping to get more at Foula. There they told us
that as the Delava River was swollen there was no
crossing, so I went down to inspect it myself and
found it in a most terrible state. The stream was
full of tangled mangrove roots and treacherous with
slimy ooze. It was a horrible and uninviting flood
to enter, with its foul waters and its mosquitoes, and
one knew that it was a veritable fever-trap. In we
had to go, however, the natives making a terrible
splashing. For the most part we were wading up
to our hips in water, picking our way as best we
could across the tangled mangrove roots, and occa-
sionally slipping down between them to a depth of

261

LAST JOURNEY TO THE COAST

two feet, these slips threatening to take Harry out of
his depth. For part of the way we had to swim.

When we had crossed we took our way to Babooni,
along a track which ran up a valley and then wound
up steep precipices. There was no actual village there,
but only a camp which had been built by Sam on the
extreme edge of the ridge. The situation was grandly
picturesque, for this ridge terminated in an abrupt
precipice, falling several hundred feet, and having the
appearance of a huge headland thrust out into the
valley. On each side the cliff came to within a few
feet of our collecting verandah, and looking down
from it we could see the confluence of three silvery
streams, winding through charming tropical vegetation.
Babooni would have been an ideal spot for a picnic.
There we spent three weeks and had wonderful success
in our work.

Except that we were in daylight and amid delight-
ful scenery — a welcome change from the awful gloom
of the forest at Mafulu — we were, as far as living
went, no better off than we had been on the higher
ground, and our staple food was still sweet potatoes ;
but it was something to have the sun again, and
altogether we were conscious of a reviving feeling of
exhilaration at Babooni. The Drepanornis Albertisii,
one of the finest of the birds-of-paradise, abounded,
and we secured a considerable number of specimens
on the opposite hill. 1 also secured a fine series of
the Ornithoptera primus, the bird-winged butterfly,
which is distinguished by its beautiful green and
velvet-black wings, with brilliant golden fore-wings,
the under side of which is black. It is very partial to

262

A SPIDER'S WEB AS A FISHING-NET : A STRANGE
NEW GUINEA DEVICE.

A very huge and strong spider's web, common to New Guinea,
is used by the natives as a fishing-net. They s^t up in the
forest a bamboo, bent as in the picture, and leave it until
the spiders have covered it with a web in the manner
shown.

LAST JOURNEY TO THE COAST

the flowers of the tree Spirea, among the foliage of
which its black and gold wings can continually be
seen twinkling. Its colour contrast, indeed, gives it a
most remarkable appearance in flight.

But scientific work cannot be done on sweet
potatoes alone, so I sent Wei- Yah and five men to
Ekeikei to replenish our larder. They took a week
on the journey, and on their return reported that the
Ekeikei camp was safe, but there had been thefts
from the stores at the Kebea. The foolish fellows had
come back without salt, and as five men cannot carry
very much, we were only a little better off than we
had been. We were also in dire want of " trade," and
there would be fairly long accounts to settle with our
carriers for the rest of the journey, the Foula men
having exhausted all our trade when we paid them off
at Babooni. In our straits, however, nature provided
us with at least one delicacy, and we shall always re-
member Babooni gratefully for its tree-cabbage. These
edible leaves grow on a small tree like a sycamore,
and the manner of cooking is as follows: Each leaf
is plucked separately, and when a sufficient number
has been got together they are tied up into neat
packets, bound round in banana leaves and cane string.
Then stones are collected and heated on a large wood
fire, and on the top of the hot stones the bundles of
cabbage are placed, and over them the natives lay
more banana leaves to a depth of about two feet, and
above all another layer of hot stones. In about one hour
the cabbage is cooked, the outer wrapping is taken off,
and the delicacy is served on a banana leaf or a dish.
It is a perfect god-send to the half-starved traveller,

265

LAST JOURNEY TO THE COAST

From Babooni we returned to the Kebea, varying
our route so as to include the village of Waley, which
we entered during a heavy rainstorm. Waley is a
pleasantly situated village, occupying the whole of
one side of a hill, where a large clearing had been
burnt out and planted with sugar-cane and bananas.
The natives had also laid out extensive and well-
planted gardens.

One of the curiosities of Waley, and, indeed, one
of the greatest curiosities that I noted during my
stay in New Guinea, was the spiders' web fishing-net.

In the forest at this point huge spiders' webs,
6 feet in diameter, abounded. These are woven in
a large mesh, varying from i inch square at the out-
side of the web to about Jth inch at the centre.
The web was most substantial, and had great resist-
ing power, a fact of which the natives were not slow
to avail themselves, for they have pressed into the
service of man this spider, which is about the size of
a small hazel-nut, with hairy, dark-brown legs, spread-
ing to about 2 inches. This diligent creature they
have beguiled into weaving their fishing-nets. At
the place where the webs are thickest they set up
long bamboos, bent over into a loop at the end. In
a very short time the spider weaves a web on this most
convenient frame, and the Papuan has his fishing-net
ready to his hand. He goes down to the stream and
uses it with great dexterity to catch fish of about
i 3b. weight, neither the water nor the fish sufficing
to break the mesh. The usual practice is to stand on
a rock in a backwater where there is an eddy. There
they watch for a fish, and then dexterously dip it

266

LAST JOURNEY TO THE COAST

up and throw it on to the bank. Several men would
set up bamboos so as to have nets ready all together,
and would then arrange little fishing parties. It
seemed to me that the substance of the web resisted
water as readily as a duck's back.

Waley was also a place for dancing. Thither the
tribes came for great Terpsichorean festivals, and
invitations used to be sent as far as Foula by special
messengers to bid the Foula people to these enter-
tainments. As we passed Babooni we had met these
couriers on their way to tell the Foula people about
a dance that was shortly to be held, and inviting them
to come and bring all their fine feather-work — the
Papuan dress-suit — and all their pretty women. These
dances often last for a week, and the revellers feast
during the day and at night dance by torch-light.
During the time we were in camp the noise of dancing
and singing never ceased, and the fat pigs were
continually being killed. This indispensable adjunct
of Papuan life is solemnly divided according to
ceremonial custom, and certain parts are reserved for
the leading degrees of the tribesmen. The guests
receive the more honourable portions, and in this
instance the chief from Foula would receive the most
honoured part of all.

The tribesmen come to the dance fully armed,
bearing spears 10 feet long, which were often splen-
didly decorated with birds' feathers ; over the point
would be slung a pod full of seeds, which rattled as
the spear was brandished in the dance.

When we left Waley we pursued a very winding
path through steep valleys, zig-zaging up the face of

267 n

LAST JOURNEY TO THE COAST

precipices and along the tops of almost razor-like
ridges.

On our return to the Kebea we picked a very fine
crop of beans of our own sowing. The Papuan bean
is broader than ours, and is gathered at a rather later
stage ; it is largely cultivated in the native villages.
Once at the Kebea we had seriously to face the prob-
lem of getting down to the coast. Here we were
with all our collections on our hands, as well as our
stores and " trade " to meet the charges of our carriers
none too plentiful. Obviously, the right plan would
be to get the natives to engage to carry for us right
down to Pokama on Hall Sound, for if we should be
faced with the necessity of paying off a gang at
Ekeikei, we should be cleaned right out of the equi-
valent of ready cash. I opened negotiations tentatively,
and allowed the idea to get wind among my followers ;
then the thing began to be mooted in camp conver-
sations, and the men would go off to discuss it with
their women-kind. At first they were in great doubt,
saying that it was very far, they did not know the
country beyond such a place, and they would be very
frightened in strange districts, especially on their re-
turn. At our invitation they gathered for a great
conference, and I may be said to have summoned a
Papuan Parliament, which immediately went into
committee to discuss ways and means. I sent out
Ow-bow, and several reliable fellows whom we knew
to be willing to go all the way with us, to induce the
others to come to the congress, and when we got them
together we told them that if they would go to Hall
Sound with us, we would make each man a certain

268

FISHING WITH THE SPIDER'S-WEB NET.
The natives are here using the curious net prepared in the manner shown in another picture.

LAST JOURNEY TO THE COAST

payment, enumerating the different articles we were
prepared to pay on our arrival at Pokama. We added
that if any one preferred that his wages should include
a preponderance of tobacco, or beads, or calico, over
other articles, we should be quite agreeable.

They gathered round our little house, some in and
some out, and smoked the everlasting bau-bau, keeping
up the while a quiet conversation. The women with
husbands made difficulties, as was to be expected.
They would say to any man who showed a disposition
to join the expedition: "But we want you to help
us in our gardens." One of the wives proved especi-
ally a thorn in our side. She was the worst woman
we met in Papua, the possessor of a terrible tongue,
and she was always setting the men against going
anywhere. The other women disliked her heartily,
and there were always rows when she came into camp.
Not once, but twenty times, were we annoyed by
these disturbances, for Gouba, her husband, believed
in attempting to tame his shrew, although, alas ! he
never succeeded. His methods were simple and
drastic. He would pick up a billet of wood, when
she was half-way through a tremendous scolding, and
fetch her a terrific blow over the back. Thereupon
ensued Pandemonium ; the other men and women
would gather round jabbering, but they made no
attempt to stop the beating once it had begun. The
unfortunate man had another wife, and the scolding
one was not always with him, but when she was
there was trouble. Gouba was willing enough to stay
with us, poor fellow, but Mrs. Gouba was always on
the qui vive for some village dance or other. Her

271

LAST JOURNEY TO THE COAST

social engagements invariably clashed with Gouba's
industrial projects, and between them they made the
camp very hot. To see her running with Gouba after
her was a memorable sight. Of course, no Englishman
likes to see a woman knocked about, but from what
Ow-bow used to tell us, I am persuaded that Gouba
was a sorely-tried man, and I should not be surprised
to hear that by this time he has arranged a divorce on
Henry the Eighth's plan, and that Mrs. Gouba is now
no more.

But to return to our Parliament. I finally carried
my point and engaged the carriers, but, alas ! it was
only by committing the only act of perfidy which I
can lay to my conscience in all my dealings with
natives. I found that if we were to get out of the
country safely I must offer some further inducement,
other than the ordinary articles of trade, and accord-
ingly, although I had no intention of contravening the
Government regulations so far, I said that a gun would
be included in the wages of those who went down to
Pokama. When the time came for this promise to be
made good, I simply explained that the Government
would not permit me to give them the gun. They
acquiesced quite cheerfully, and consented to re-
ceive compensation in other articles. That there
was no discontent or resentment, I am persuaded,
and I had ample proof of this in my final parting
from my followers, which I shall relate in its proper
place.

We now returned to Ekeikei, and on arrival there
passed from the land of starvation to the land of
abundance ; hunting was once more possible, and

272

LAST JOURNEY TO THE COAST

early on the morning after our arrival we sent out
our shooters, who came in loaded with cassowary,
Gaura pigeon, wallaby, pig, and other spoils. The
natives were in clover once again, and had a glorious
time building fires, dressing the game, and pre-
paring the food, for your Papuan's greatest pleasure
is to eat as much as he can, and in the shortest
possible time, to sing, and then to sleep. Meals of
Homeric generosity were devoured, and thereafter our
people sat round their camp fires singing the beautiful
mountain melodies of which I have already spoken.
The prettiest and most soothing of all their tunes was
the following, which has often with its gentle cadence
lulled me to sleep in the wilds : —

: ftz

- ^_

zft ~

Chi

■ li - pa

-la

1 —
a

chi

- li -

pa - la

B.C.

Zfz

rp:

ftz

£=.

r H

1—

- a

lay:

Chi-

- pa

- la

- a.

At Ekeikei we had, of course, to take up many
additional loads of baggage, and the resources of our
staff, already severely tried, threatened to prove entirely
inadequate. Further recruits were not forthcoming, so
all the baggage had to be re-distributed and the bags
repacked. Even when this was done, and an addi-
tional weight apportioned to each man, we found that
ten carriers more would be wanted, but as these were
not obtainable I decided to leave Wei- Yah with the

273

LAST JOURNEY TO THE COAST

remaining baggage until I could get down to Epa,
where I trusted that my old friend Mavai would send
it in relays for me to Oo-fa-fa.

At Epa things looked rather hopeless, for not only
did five of my carriers bolt, leaving me saddled with
their loads, but Mavai proved a broken reed. My
ancient ally was no longer a white man, and for some
unexplained reason had turned very uncivil. When I
asked for carriers he said he had " no people," but
his village seemed as populous as ever, and the same
numbers streamed in from the yam patch in the even-
ing. I had a big talk with him over night, but could
make no terms with him. Next morning Harry and I
again had a long quiet talk with his Highness, and at
last he relented so far that he ascended his platform,
but did not don the persuasive red coat. He waxed
fairly eloquent, gesticulated wildly, and at last, about
7 p.m., things took a better turn, and the first carriers
consented to engage with us. Then the right honour-
able gentleman resumed his seat, having spoken just
over half-an-hour. Next day they sulkily picked up
their loads and set out. Mavai himself, believing
that example was better than precept, marched with
the first detachment. He himself shouldered a load.
Thus we got everything away with the exception of
two loads, the carriers in charge of which sat sullenly
in their house. Finally, Harry and I had to go over
and make these two fellows pick up their burdens,
and thus we took leave of Epa.

The journey to Oo-fa-fa was accomplished in very
sultry, trying weather, through a country that afforded
little shade. The ground was stony, broken here

274

A WEIRD TRIBAL DANCE,

The central figure wears a huge head-dress of bird of Paradise plumes surmounted by a
gigantic aigrette of parrots' feathers (to be seen in the background). The rank and
file wear grass-fibre head-dresses.

LAST JOURNEY TO THE COAST

and there with patches of wild oats and groups of
eucalyptus trees, which ran up to a height of about 30
feet, and were conspicuous by their silvery bark, which
was constantly peeling off like tissue paper.

Having once undertaken the job, Mavai was as
good as his word, and took us down to Oo-fa-fa, where
we got boats. There I had a nasty accident. We
put up for the night in a hut belonging to Mr. Jack
Exton, the sandalwood trader, a very industrious and
indefatigable man, who has made good roads to haul
his timber down to the coast, and is very popular with
the natives. " Jack," as we called him, entertained
us very kindly at his camp when we first went to Epa,
and gave us every assistance in his power. During the
first night at Oo-fa-fa I was sitting on a native ham-
mock in the hut, when suddenly the cords gave way
and I fell backwards upon a sharp stump and hurt my
back severely. My leather belt saved me from any
very serious injury, and there was fortunately no
penetration, but the pain was intense for three or four
davs. I fomented the bruises with hot water at
Oo-fa-fa, and managed to get down to the canoe next
day, but I had to lie still during the rest of the
voyage. At Pokama I was greatly relieved by the
application of Elliman's Embrocation, but I had
difficulty in walking and was not free from pain for
ten days.

At the Sound some of the native carriers, those
paying their first visit to the coast, drank great
quantities of salt water without evil consequences.

The canoe voyage was rather uneventful. Our
flotilla was not numerous enough ; the canoes we

277

LAST JOURNEY TO THE COAST

had were overladen, and, accordingly, we sent some
baggage overland to Pokama. At that point the Rev.
Mr. Dauncey received us with great hospitality, and
with him we stayed while we were paying off our
natives. To Ow-bow I entrusted the wages of the
five rascals who had run away from us at Epa, and
I have no doubt he paid it over scrupulously.

After our business was concluded, the mountain
people went away with very happy faces, and bade us
good-bye, cordially hoping that they would see us
again, and saying that on my return, if I sent for
them, they would come down to the coast and carry
me up-country. Some of them even wept as they
took leave, and I must confess that I was genuinely
sorry to part from my warm-hearted, good-natured
followers, who had up to the last served me faith-
fully, in spite of occasional fits of refractoriness,
which, after all, were easy enough to understand.
It said a good deal for them that they followed the
unknown white man as cheerfully as they did.

278

CHAPTER XIV

A FORTY-MILE TRAMP BY THE SHORE

A Comfortless Voyage — A Forty-Mile Tramp along the Coast
— Wonders of the Beach — Armies of Soldier- Crabs — A Crocodile
River — A Dangerous Canoe Voyage — At Port Moresby — A
Pathetic Incident — Last Days of our Stay in New Guinea.

CHAPTER XIV

A FORTY-MILE TRAMP BY THE SHORE

At Pokama we got on board a vessel very heavily
laden with sandalwood. I did not notice how
perilously deep she was in the water until after we
had put to sea. This promised a voyage of great
discomfort, and Harry shortly became very sick.
Partly on this account, and partly because we wanted
to see a certain part of the coast more minutely, we
went ashore in a small boat, and slept that night at
the house of a coloured teacher in the service of
the London Missionary Society. Next morning we
set out on foot for Manu-Manu, forty miles distant,
a long and very toilsome tramp, often rendered doubly
difficult by the uncertain sands of the beach.
Where the tide had left it wet we found it as firm
to walk upon as a bicycle track, but in the dry sand
we often sunk to our knees. Harry, especially, suf-
fered severely, and his ankles were sore for a long
time after. The heat also was terrific, and added
greatly to our discomfort ; but the walk was not
without its interest and its diversion, although in
point of scenery it was rather monotonous. Very
conspicuous on the fringe of the coast vegetation
was the true species of the shore Pandanus. Inland
was dense forest, diversified with patches of grass
and marshland. Our itinerary was as follows : Our

281 '

A TRAMP BY THE SHORE

first stage was twenty-two miles from Giabada to
Issu, the way being greatly lengthened by the need
to follow the bend of ever-recurring bays, where the
treacherous sand and the lack of shelter from the
sun proved particularly trying. But at this part of
the march we saw one of the most extraordinary
sights of all our travels — many thousands of soldier-
crabs traversing the sandy beach in detached, regu-
larly ordered bodies that moved evidently by the
signal of some common commander. These " armed
battalions" stretched for miles, and no matter what
figure they assumed — whether wedge, triangle, or
rhombus — the dressing, so to speak, of the outer
ranks was perfect, and would have put many a
Volunteer corps to shame. Not a crab was out of
line. The advance was fairly rapid, and was always
towards the sea, for a distance of, say, two hundred
yards. When the crabs come out of their holes in
the sand they throw themselves into this compact
formation probably for safety. There was no walk-
ing along the beach for them — scarcely a clear
hundred yards for miles. When approached, they
quickened their pace perceptibly.

The individual crab is small and has no shell.
The spread of the legs would probably be ij inches,
and the body is of a dark fawn colour, exactly re-
sembling the wet sand of the beach, so that the
creature's hue is without doubt yet another of Nature's
adaptations for protection. It is remarkable also that
it imitates only the wet sand, for the dry sand is of
a dazzling silky whiteness.

At Issu we stayed for the night, and did our best

282

A TRAMP BY THE SHORE

to sleep, although the sand-flies were a great torment.
From Issu we went on to Manu-Manu, a stretch of
eighteen miles, and as we went we saw many sharks,
who followed us close inshore and kept pace with
us for a considerable distance, hoping in vain that
we would be unwise enough to bathe. Some natives,
who had followed us from Giabada, tried to kill them
by throwing sticks.

Manu-Manu was our last halt before taking a
canoe for Port Moresby. At the former place we
found some men to assist us, and after spending
the night there, and the best part of the following
day in preparation, we embarked. At the mouth of
the Manu - Manu River the crocodiles swarmed in
the brackish water. This is the point where there
occurred the fight between the natives and the croco-
diles which I described in one of my earlier chapters.
The canoe voyage that we made at this time was one
that was only possible in fine weather, for there were
many nasty headlands to round. The bays were very
deep, and at the middle of the crossing from point
to point we would often be ten miles off the land.
Often, too, there were treacherous reefs to avoid, but
fortunately we had moonlight after 2 a.m. ; and so,
sometimes sailing and sometimes paddling, we passed
the villages of Boira and Borepada and reached Port
Moresby at five on the evening of the day after we
had left Manu-Manu. We arrived at the Govern-
ment station just about the same time as the ketch
which was bearing the bulk of our baggage.

We entered Port Moresby by the western entrance,
which is not deep enough for large ships, and can

285

A TRAMP BY THE SHORE

only be made by canoes. At Port Moresby we had
intended to put up as formerly at Sam's house, but
we found news of deep affliction awaiting our faithful
head-man. His wife Heli was in terrible distress, for
she had lost two children while her husband was with
us in the interior. Both were boys, one of seventeen
known as George, and the other a bright little fellow
of ten called Foralis, who had been a great favourite
of ours on our former visit, and who used to make
himself very useful to us.

Poor George's death was a merciful release, for
although he was so well on in his teens, he was a
mere dwarf, and had been ill since his birth — a
sufferer from the so-called New Guinea disease, that
incurable and mysterious disorder which eats away
the legs. It is believed to be a form of leprosy.
He was a fleshless, melancholy little being, who lay
in bed all day, hardly ever moving. He had, how-
ever, all his senses, and it was pathetic to see him
pursuing his only amusement, playing with the petals
of flowers and with different coloured papers, of which
he sometimes made strings. Sam must have missed
Foralis very keenly, for the youngster was at a most
attractive age, and was beginning to be very useful in
various ways. He had become quite a bold little
horseman, and would often ride on errands for his
father.

We spent five days at Port Moresby in the usual
routine of packing for the homeward voyage, the first
stage of which we performed on the small steamer
Parna, which took us to Cooktown, where we were
interested to note the relics of former mining] activity,

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A TRAMP BY THE SHORE

for the place enjoyed a brief spell of prosperity, during
which pretentious banks and public buildings sprang
up, and still stand there as if in mockery of its
absolute deadness. The time was when they took
fifty tons of gold from the Palmer River, but those
days had long gone by, although there is certainly
plenty of mineral wealth in the hinterland that is
entirely unworked, and excellent for tin miners espe-
cially. No effort has been made to work this, and
it is difficult to get money for even a gold mine at
the back of Cooktown, so much British capital has
been lost there in wild-cat schemes. A once busy
railway still runs fitfully to the Palmer River.

We stayed three weeks at Cooktown, and during
the second week we witnessed a thunderstorm that
transcended in violence the worst I had ever seen in
South America, and that is saying a good deal.
After an intensely oppressive morning, a black cloud
came up from the westward, and the storm burst
with startling suddenness. In less than half-an-hour
every street was a veritable river, and the lightning,
continuous and seemingly ubiquitous, was accompanied
by cracking and rending thunder that could only be
described as appalling. Fortunately, no one was
killed, and the only damage was to the roof of
Burns's store, which was struck by lightning.

Save for the thunderstorm, our stay at Cooktown
was utterly uneventful, and at the end of the third
week we went down to Sydney and came home by
the White Star line.

287

CHAPTER XV

NATIVE MANNERS AND CUSTOMS

The Papuan at Home — His Good Points — Physical Char-
acteristics— Ceremonial Dress — Coast and Hill Tribes —
Differences — Local Distribution of the Rami or Petticoat — Its
Decrease in Length in the Mountains — Its Disappearance at
Epa — Dandyism — The Priceless Chimani — The Shell Armlet —
Household Constitution — Rudimentary Government — Courtship
and Marriage — The Price of a Wife — Position of Women — Six
Ways of Carrying an Infant — Meal Times — Weapons — Clubs —
Their Manufacture the Monopoly of One Tribe — Weird Tribal

Dances.

CHAPTEE XV

PAPUAN MANNERS, CUSTOMS, AND SUPERSTITIONS

My object in visiting New Guinea, as the reader
already knows very well, was not to prosecute the
proper study of mankind, according to Mr. Alexander
Pope, but it was impossible to live daily with those
unspoilt children of nature without observing a good
deal that was curious and noteworthy. I cannot
pretend to be a trained ethnologist, and accordingly
the notes that I have set down in this chapter on
manners and customs make no pretension to any
scientific co-ordination. I shall not therefore venture
to draw conclusions, nor advance any theories such as
would fall within the province of the professed an-
thropologist. My notes, too, were fragmentary, and
often, owing to the stress of our journeyings and the
pressure of the work which it was incumbent on me
to prosecute, I had perforce to leave unrecorded at
the time many things that might be useful to the
student of primitive peoples. Such observations, how-
ever, as I am able to make, however incomplete, may
safely be regarded as at first-hand, and it is probable
that in the majority of cases they were taken under
exceptionally favourable conditions for observing the
people just as they are. During our journeyings in
the interior we depended on native help alone, and
the people whom we employed were not, one might

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MANNERS AND CUSTOMS

say, scared out of their usual way of life by the
presence of a large body of white men. I and my
son went absolutely alone into the wilds with no
white lieutenant. We cast ourselves, as it were, on
the hospitality of the aboriginal Papuan (and can-
nibal at that), but as the reader has seen, we had
no reason to regret our draft on the bank of savage
fidelity.

In my second chapter I described the warlike
Tugeri of Dutch New Guinea, a tribe whose ferocity
has been such a thorn in the side of British and
Netherland officials alike. I certainly should not
have cared to trust myself with the Tugeri, but with
the gentler people of the south-east portion of the
island there was comparatively no great risk. My
first close acquaintance with the Papuans was with
the Motuan tribe, who lived around Port Moresby,
and my earliest acquaintances were made among the
potters of Hanuabada. The Motuans are fairly
numerous, numbering, it is said, about 1400 in the
Port Moresby district ; they may be taken as the
type of coast natives in this quarter, and roughly,
for the purposes of this account, I may distinguish
between " coast-men" and "hill-men," taking the
former to extend as far up as Epa. The Motuan
men are well-grown, standing about 5 feet 10 inches
on an average, the height of the women being from
about 5 feet 6 inches to 5 feet 8 inches. Their
features are very varied, and do not incline to any
single type. The colour is of a rich bronze, and
they are well and sturdily made. Most of them
have mop-like hair very much frizzed, and some wear

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MANNERS AND CUSTOMS

it tied up, while others have it short and curly,
looking almost as if it had been cropped and lying
close to the scalp. What we may call the " cropped"
hair required little dressing, but to keep the mop
hair in order they use a comb like a wide fork with
five prongs and a fairly longish handle. With this
implement they comb out their hair elaborately.

For ceremonial dances, and on festal occasions,
they wear a wonderful head-dress made of cockatoo
feathers, which looks, when it is assumed, like an
enormous flat horseshoe, passing over the top of the
head and slightly in front of the ears. It conceals
the ears entirely when the observer looks the wearer
full in the face.

The most cherished ornament, however, is the
necklace of dogs' teeth, which is prized by the
Papuans beyond any article of " trade" that the
traveller can give them. Not even a knife or an
axe is so welcome, nor can the traveller get so
much work out of the Papuan for any steel imple-
ment as he can for one or two teeth. I knew of a
case where a missionary, not with any fraudulent
intention, but merely from a desire to test Papuan
intelligence, manufactured imitation dogs' teeth very
cunningly out of bone, and offered them to a native.
The man, however, had too keen an eye to be done ;
he weighed the teeth critically in his hand for a
moment, and then handed them back with a scornful
f No good."

A further adjunct of their very simple costume
is the armlet, which is knitted from grass fibre with
a pointed cassowary bone. This primitive needle

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MANNERS AND CUSTOMS

has a hole running up its entire length through
which the grass fibre is threaded, and then the
ornament is woven either in a diagonal pattern or
in straight horizontal stripes, with strands of various
colours. They often actually knit it round the arm
or the wrist quite tightly, and when this is done
the ornament is permanent, and is never removed
until it is worn out. Sometimes they wear a bunch
of flowers stuck into the armlet, and these not par-
ticularly fragrant, but the Papuans are persuaded that
it is quite otherwise, and, poioting to their bouquet,
they say with delightful naive t£, " Midina Namu " —
" Good smell." Alas ! it is really the reverse, and
the wearers of flowers in this manner are by no
means pleasant neighbours.

They also wear anklets of feathers and strings of
beads, and in some of their dances I have seen them
decorated with huge bunches of grass, which hang
from between the shoulders and sweep the ground.
Some also affect a light band at the knee, and light
cane anklets which rattle as they dance.

Indispensable to the men is the little bag which
carries their few personal possessions : their betel-nut,
their lime gourd and knife, the invariable adjunct
of the delightful vice of chewing betel — as every
traveller in the Malay Archipelago knows — and the
" Paw-paw," a fruit with which a little European
tobacco is often eaten. The coast women carry a
much larger bag of knitted fibre, which may be best
described by saying that it resembles a hammock
with the ends tied together; in this they carry
potatoes and wood, and sometimes it is borne upon

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MANNERS AND CUSTOMS

the head, the centre of it being brought over so
that it is supported by the forehead, while the taper-
ing ends hang down over the shoulders. At other
times it is carried round the neck.

The chief costume of the women of the coast
tribes is the extraordinary petticoat made of grass or
of a wide-bladed weed, each leaf of which would
be about 3 inches wide. The blades composing
this garment fall down perpendicularly from a waist-
band, to which layer after layer is attached, until
the "Rami" has that fine spread which used to be
attained by more civilised women by a contrivance
which I believe was called a " dress-improver.'' As
we went inland and rose gradually higher and higher
in the mountains, we observed that the "Rami" was
growing shorter and shorter, until at length, just
after we had passed Epa, it disappeared altogether;
and one may reasonably consider the absence or pre-
sence of this garment as the great symbol of division
between the coast natives and those of the highlands
proper.

Among the men, both highland and lowland, the
great symbol of dandyism is the " Chimani," or nose
ornament. This is made from a section of a shell
about I of an inch thick in the middle, and tapering
most beautifully towards the ends. It is accurately
made, perfectly round and polished, and a good
example would be about a span long. A fine
" Chimani " very often has two black rings painted
round it, about 1 inch distant from the end. These
things are manufactured by the coast people, and
they drift by exchange through the whole country.

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MANNERS AND CUSTOMS

Very few young blades can afford to possess one,
and accordingly it may be lent, either for a considera-
tion or as a very special favour. The possessor of
one of these ornaments could easily buy a wife for
it, and sometimes it is paid as a tribal tribute by
one who may have to pay blood-money, or is unable
to give the statutory pig as atonement for a murder.

Another shell ornament is the armlet, made from
the lower part of one species of a conical shell; a
section of this adornment would present the figure of
a pointed oval, and, according to the part of the shell
from which the armlet has been cut, its ends either
meet or overlap without touching. To it they some-
times attach European beads or little fragments of tin.
Its manufacture entails a great deal of work and a long
continued grinding on stone or other hard substance.
Sam had a very fine one which he presented to a man
in order that that man might buy a wife, and my head-
man's generosity will be understood when I mention
that one of these armlets fetches £5 at Port Moresby.
A very affluent person will wear one on each arm, or
two on one arm, as I sometimes observed was the case
among the coast natives. This occurred chiefly at
Hula.

As regards households and tribal government, the
Papuan customs are simple in the extreme ; there is
no augmentation of households on the patriarchal
system of the sons bringing the wives under the
parental roof. Each household consists of the father,
mother, and children. The sons when they marry set
up a separate establishment, and when all have married
the grandparents usually remain alone.

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MANNERS AND CUSTOMS

The men marry after they are eighteen and the
girls much younger, for they are considered ready for
double-blessedness at fourteen. In the case of the
men, there are exceptions to this rule, for we met an
experienced young gentleman of fourteen, Kaukwai,
who confided to us, with an air of deep wisdom, that
he had already had two wives and had dismissed them
both.

In the villages there was no clearly defined form of
government. There was, of course, invariably a chief,
but his authority was not great, and nowhere did I see
an autocrat, except Mavai, with whom the reader is
already well acquainted. There is no regular council
of elders, but in isolated instances the younger
men may go to the elder for advice. The villagers,
however, are wonderfully conservative in their institu-
tions, and marriage between distant villages is un-
common. The man who dares to bring a wife from
a distance gains great credit for an enterprising person.
At Amana, for instance, we found an interpreter who
had married a Foula woman, and this person was
accounted strong-minded. He had either learnt the
Foula dialect from his wife or had acquired it while he
was staying at Foula courting her.

The method of wooing is, as with all primitive
peoples, more commercial than romantic. The intend-
ing suitor generally comes to the point during a tribal
dance which has been arranged by calling from hill
to hill. If the woman agrees to the match, the wooer
does not think it at all necessary to make overtures to
her father, but should negotiations be required he is
neither laggard nor bashful. He puts the price in his

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MANNERS AND CUSTOMS

bag and approaches the house of the sire, entering
boldly and sitting down unbidden. Not infrequently
the girl also comes in and sits probably in a hammock,
listening to the debate on which her destiny hangs.
The suitor at once names his price ; if the old man
thinks this is a promising bargain, he shows himself
quite willing to discuss matters. If there is tobacco,
the suitor takes up his host's " Bau-bau," draws a
few whiffs, passes it to the father, scratches his head
violently with both hands, and proceeds to haggle.
Should the father think the match a good thing, he
seldom withholds his consent long, but if he considers
the young man is under-bidding, he holds out stiffly
till the youth has raised the price sufficiently. As
soon as the father consents, the bride is taken away at
once and without any fuss. There is no ceremony and
no wedding feast.

The women are the agricultural labourers of Papua.
Early in the morning they go out to till the gardens
and the yam- or taro-patch ; they are the hewers of
wood and the drawers of water. Every night at
Hanuabada we used to watch the long files of them
wading across the shallow channels to the villages,
carrying the great bundles of wood they had collected.
Their families are not large, seldom more than two
or three children, and though they treat them quite
kindly, there is no demonstrative affection. At seven
years old the children are expected to assist in
domestic affairs, and begin to take their little part of
carrying water and firewood to the village. Their
faggots are tied up with wild cane string and are
carried home on the women's backs.

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MANNERS AND CUSTOMS

When the women go out to the garden, or when
they aid in heavy transport service, as in the case of
my expedition, the baby always accompanies them,
and I counted at least six different ways of carrying
the infant. i. In the net-bag, slung behind, and
supported by the band passed across the mother's
forehead ; to save abrasion a leaf was placed between
the forehead and the knot made by tying the two ends
of the bag together. Among many of the women
I noted a patch of white hair, just at the point where
the knot had pressed. 2. The child on the top of
the load, supported by the mother's left arm. This, of
course, refers to the time when they were carrying for
us, and had a particularly heavy burden. 3. Astride
of one shoulder ; this was practised by the men, and
the infant was so placed as to face the side of his
father's head. 4. Also a man's method, pick-a-back,
with the little legs round the father's neck. 5. The
child with the arms clasped round the father's neck
and no other support at all. 6. Similar to the last,
except that the child in this instance was carried by
the mother, who, being blessed with an exceptional
spread of " Kami " behind, could allow the little one's
feet to rest comfortably on that.

In the village communities on the hills there was
no very regular observance of meal-times. They ate
when they wanted to, but on the coast a meal was
taken in the morning, in the afternoon, in the early
evening, and sometimes at night. The cooking was
done by the women in the round earthenware pots
mentioned in the description of the Hanuabada
potters.

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MANNERS AND CUSTOMS

In point of dress and appearance the mountain
people differ widely from those of the coast. The
place of the 4 4 Rami" is taken by the cheebee, or
perineal band, a simpler garment than even the fig-leaf.
They are a shorter people, with better developed legs
than the coast natives, which is no doubt owing to the
extraordinary exercise imposed on the limbs by the
difficulties of the ground.

The women wear fewer adornments than the men,
their principal ornaments being the dogs' teeth neck-
lace and armlet, and on the breast a pearl shell, ground
with a stone night and day for three weeks until the
outer shell is gone and the mother-of-pearl is left bare
and polished. They tie up their hair with bark so
that the hair itself can hardly be seen, and sometimes
they plait it up into small tails. They carry the
customary bag of small odds and ends, and their
weapons are distinctly formidable. These consist
of the spear and club only. The spear is pointed
and jagged, and is made of very hard red-wood ; the
club has a heavy stone top, elaborately hewn into
sharp bosses. The Dinawa people do not know how
to make these clubs, which are manufactured in the
Keakama district, and their presence in the hills
proves that there is some system of commercial dis-
tribution.

But the most splendid of all the articles of the
Papuan costume is the feather head-dress, 16 feet
high, which forms the central point of attraction when
it occurs in a tribal dance. This ornament is
extremely rare, and is always an heirloom, for it has
taken generations to complete. It is a wonderful,

304

A STONE-HEADED CLUB.

-VARIOUS FORMS OF THE BAU-BAU, OR TOBACCO PIPE, SHOWING
DIFFERENT KINDS OF ORNAMENTATION.
Note on the left of the pipes the butt of one, showing how the end is closed
by the natural section of bamboo.

-A STONE AXE.

MANNERS AND CUSTOMS

fantastic device of feathers, built upon a light frame-
work. The Bird of Paradise and the Gaura pigeon are
laid under tribute for its construction, and the feathers
of the different birds, and of different species of the
same bird, are kept carefully apart, and are arranged in
rows according to their natural order. A few lines
of Bird of Paradise, a few lines of Gaura pigeon, then
a few lines of another species of Bird of Paradise,
and so on. The whole contrivance is most fantastic,
and looks really impressive in the weird light of the
torches as the dancers, decorated with flowing bunches
of grass behind, proceed with their revel.

The dances of the hill tribes are not elaborate in
form, and consist principally of violent jumping up
and down, accompanied by wild singing and noise,
but the coast dances, as carried out by the members
of the native police at Port Moresby, by permission
of the authorities, although less effective in point of
costume — for little dress at all is worn — have some-
thing of the orderly and progressive arrangement of
the ballet of civilisation. On the day set apart for
the dance at Port Moresby, a circle of native
drummers would seat themselves on the ground, and
would begin their monotonous performance — bang,
bang, bang; bang, bang, bang — apparently without
end, and with a wearisomely monotonous rhythm.
Suddenly, to the orchestra and the spectators would
enter two members of the Fly River police off duty,
carrying a long, thin reed. These would begin the
performance. They jumped up and down in regular
rhythm, crouching lower and lower as the dance pro-
ceeded, their movements getting quicker and quicker

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MANNERS AND CUSTOMS

as the drums " gave them pepper." Then, still crouch-
ing and still jumping up and down with incredible
swiftness, they would back out and disappear round
the side of the house. This ended the first figure.
For the second figure probably twenty of the force
would enter, marching sedately in Indian file, the
drums playing a slower rhythm. Suddenly the per-
formers would stop, then they would turn their heads
from side to side, and begin to move their legs slowly
in time to the drums. Still wagging their heads,
and without any increased motion of the limbs, they
would proceed right round the ring of spectators and
retire, without any perceptible quickening of pace. For
the third figure they reappeared in files, moving their
heads, the limbs still going in slow time. They ad-
vanced and retreated to and from the spectators several
times, singing as they went, and finally backed out.

We witnessed also a dance of the Mombare people,
who are likewise members of the native police. With
the dancers was one woman. Their method was to
jump up and down, and thus they worked slowly round
the oval enclosure formed by spectators. They held
themselves erect all the time, and their demeanour
was not serious, the dance being accompanied by loud
shouting and great perspiration. During all these
dances the Orgiasts fell into a terrible state of excite-
ment, and often could not stop dancing until they
fell quite exhausted. Mountain dances are some-
times accompanied by tragedies, for the confusion of
the revel is made the occasion for wiping off old
scores, and a dancer will suddenly fall dead, struck
through by the spear of his enemy.

308

CHAPTER XVI

BURIAL, WITCHCRAFT, AND OTHER
THEMES

A Short-lived Race — An Aged Man a Curiosity — Burial Customs
— The Chief Mourner painted Black — Period of Mourning brief
except for the Chief Mourner — No Belief in Natural Death
— Poison always Suspected — Religion all but absent — Vague
Belief in Magic — Fifi a Form of Divination — How practised — Its
Utter Childishness — No Idea of Number — Forest Warnings —
" Wada," another Form of Sorcery — Mavai's Hideous Magical
Compounds — A People seemingly without History or Legends
— Pictures understood — Fear of the Stereoscope — The "Bau-
bau" or Social Pipe — How Made and Smoked — Incidents of
Travel — The Stinging Trees — Ideas of Medicine — Sovereign
Remedies — Bleeding — How practised — Hunting — The Corral —
A Strange Delicacy — Story of Native Trust in Me — A Loan of
Beads — Children and their Sports — Thirty Ways of Cat's-

Cradle.

CHAPTER XVI

BURIAL, WITCHCRAFT, AND OTHER THEMES

The Papuans are not a long-lived race. The mountain
people die off about forty : at Googooli, high up on
the mountains, we saw one very old man, who may
have been sixty years of age — the only example of
longevity that we came across. He was a very
pathetic spectacle : his features were almost gone, the
skin was terribly shrivelled, and the eyes sunken.
He was bent almost double, and had a long white
beard. His fellow-tribesmen regarded him as a great
curiosity, and brought him to see us. Despite the
decrepitude of his body, however, there was no
trace of senility : his senses were unimpaired ; and
the poor old creature showed great gratitude for a
gift of tobacco.

Of the mountain people's burial customs I have
no precise knowledge, but at Hanuabada we were
able to observe a coast funeral. The dead body was
wrapped in a net and lashed to a pole, which was
borne by two bearers. To the funeral, which was
celebrated the morning after death, the whole village
turned out, and followed the corpse without any
regard to precedence, except that the chief mourner
— in this case, the mother — walked immediately
behind the bier. The chief mourner is invariably
blacked all over with charcoal, but the others wear

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BURIAL AND WITCHCRAFT

no token of sorrow. Just as the procession started
the women set up a tremendous wailing, which was
continued all the way to the grave. On reaching the
burial-place, which was some seven minutes' walk
from the village, the corpse was set down, and the
mother, seating herself at its head, encircled it with
her arms, the hands being clasped below the chin,
and began with shrill cries to try to call her son
back to life. For twenty minutes, while the shallow
grave was being dug, this ceremony proceeded, while
the rest of the mourners sat around. The corpse
was then lifted into the grave without much rever-
ence and was covered up, the mourners waiting until
this was done, whereupon they walked away and,
as far as they were concerned, the mourning was
over, and far from being a cause of sorrow, it had
become merely an interesting topic of conversation.
The chief mourner, however, if a woman, keeps the
house, and sees no one after the funeral for a space
that may extend to three weeks. It is indeed very
difficult to persuade a mourner to leave the house.
Another method of disposal of the dead is tree-
burial. A light framework of bamboo or sticks is
laid in the fork of a tree. On this the corpse,
wrapped in bark, is exposed. When nature has
done its work on the remains, the bones are after-
wards distributed among the friends of the deceased.

They do not believe in a natural death, and attri-
bute every decease to poison in a vague and general
sort of way. Belief in another world they have
none, and the most elementary ideas of religion do
not seem to exist. There is not even any definite

312

I. — YOUNG NATIVES' CURIOSITY ABOUT MY CAMERA.
2. — WOMEN CARRIERS ON THE WAY TO PORT MORESBY.

BURIAL AND WITCHCRAFT

superstition, but only a sort of vague and particularly
childish belief in some kind of magic under the
name of "Fi-fi." This is a sort of divination, and
is practised at night by a recognised medium, usually
a girl, who is "Fi-fi," and yet who is, at the same
time, believed to represent this mysterious power
known as "Fi-fi."

Fi-fi is supposed to be a spirit always invisible
and occasionally audible. It is considered a bringer
of both good and bad luck, but although this is so
no attempt is made to propitiate it. The cult indeed
is so absurd that the wonder is that the people believe
in it at all ; yet, although there is apparently nothing
supernatural on the face of it, the Papuans are willing
to credit its manifestations. When a tribe wishes to
know its luck, and when a hostile attack is imminent,
it has recourse to the rites of Fi-fi ; these are always
celebrated at night. The crowd gathers round the
fire, and the girl who is supposed to be the medium
of the power is told off to communicate with Fi-fi ;
from that moment, by a peculiar confusion in their
minds between the spirit and the medium, she becomes
Fi-fi to all intents and purposes. She retires to some
corner near at hand, where she is not seen, and from
there she whistles in different keys. The sound is
made entirely at the medium's discretion, but the
moment it is heard the people exclaim that Fi-fi has
come, and they judge by the whistling whether the
omens are favourable or not. They would seem to
have an idea of two Fi-fis, for the girl's first call
is two short notes repeated. No immediate answer
comes, and the people round the fire remark casually to

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BURIAL AND WITCHCRAFT

each other that the other Fi-fi has not heard, but
they say, " Gua-fua "— that is, "Wait." The girl
whistles again, and in a moment or two answers her-
self; then the listeners round the fire exclaim, " Oi-
kai-yoi, Fi-fi- m ai " ("You hear, Fi-fi has come").
Occasionally we have said to them, "Tell Fi-fi to
speak," but they refused point-blank ; and when we
asked them why they did not bring Fi-fi, they said
they could not. The priestess varied her whistle, and
then interpreted her own messages. Once a woman
is chosen to communicate with Fi-fi, she retains the
office for life. This form of divination occurred most
frequently at Waley.

The priestess is not above the Delphic trick of
framing her oracles to suit political necessity or
her own inclinations and likings. One would think
that people of such general common sense as the
Papuans would see the possibility of deception, but
they have implicit faith in Fi-fi' s manifestations.

Certain insects, I noted, were also regarded as
" Fi-fi." When a particular species of fire-fly entered
the house at night the natives immediately predicted
bad luck, or impending attack and extermination by
hostile tribes. This failure of intelligence at one point
is paralleled by their inability to grasp the simplest idea
of number. Further than three they cannot count,
although we often tried, by means of their ten fingers,
to instil some notions of a higher calculus into them.

On the march we observed the existence of a
curious system of warnings. Now and then a green
bough, newly broken off, would be found lying in the
path, and the sight of this almost drives the natives out

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BURIAL AND WITCHCRAFT

of their wits ; for it is the recognised symbol that
some one has been there who does not want you to
pass. It has a correlative in a friendly symbol, which
is also a broken bough, but in this instance it is not
entirely severed from the tree.

Another superstition is "Wada," which, as far as
one can ascertain, seems to be a belief in an invisible
man who stands near a tree, but is so like it that he
cannot be seen. As you go through the forest " Wada "
may touch you, and then you are doomed. After this
there is nothing for you to do but go home and die ;
and so great is the power of suggestion, that a person
who believes he has been touched by " Wada " gene-
rally does die.

Mavai practised " Wada," but it took a somewhat
pharmaceutical form with him. He made an abomin-
able mixture of rotten bananas, and all sorts of
decomposing matter. This he kept in his house and
gave to persons he wanted to be rid of, generally
without any evil effect, but that never shook his belief
in the efficacy of his decoctions. It was delightfully
comical to see the seriousness with which he sat com-
pounding his horrid messes, and telling you of their
dire results. It may be wondered how ever he got
the dread substance administered ; but then, of course,
Mavai was all-powerful, and the person who refused
to take his " Wada " drugs would probably have en-
countered "Wada" — a sure and certain "Wada" —
in the person of Mavai himself.

There was also some confusion of " Wada " with a
stone or a stick, and therein probably one might find
the truth about the real deadliness of the charm.

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BURIAL AND WITCHCRAFT

The Papuans are entirely without history as a
people, and of personal tradition they have only the
merest scraps. At Port Moresby they had a legend
of an eclipse, and referred to it as "Labi labi " (that is,
"night"). They have no tales of gods or heroes, and
their chief interest is the question, "Where are you
going?" and "What are you doing?"

They were very keen to see our photographs, and
had no difficulty in understanding a picture : therein
they differed greatly from the debased Australian
aborigines, who could never grasp the graphic symbol,
and in the famous instance, when shown a picture of
Queen Victoria, said it was a ship. They picked out
their friends' photographs at once, and recognised
them with exclamations of delight. For one of our
men, however, our stereoscope proved too much, as
the relief of the figures had probably been too realistic ;
and on being invited to look at a group of our re-
tainers, he no sooner put his eyes to the glass than he
howled and nearly dropped the instrument. He ran
away, saying, " Mookau meego" ("Man lives there"),
and could not be persuaded to look again.

I hope that during my next journey I may be able
to pierce more deeply into the psychology of the
Papuans, and it may be that, with greater familiarity,
they will communicate more of what they know ; for it
appears improbable that they should be as destitute as
they seem of legend or myth.

Over the "Bau-bau," or social pipe, I trust there
may be some discoveries in store for me. The Papuan
pipe is itself a most interesting instrument, not only
in its everyday use, but in its construction and in

318

SMOKING THE BAU-BAU.

This curious pipe is made of a length of bamboo closed at each end. Into a
small hole at one end is inserted a small green leaf rolled like a grocer's
paper bag. In this the lighted tobacco is placed. The smoker then reverses
the tube, and sucks in the smoke until the bamboo is filled. He now takes
out the tobacco and inhales a long whiff. The operation is repeated as long
as the tobacco lasts.

BURIAL AND WITCHCRAFT

the method of smoking. It is made of one joint of
bamboo, closed at both ends by the natural section of
the bamboo. In the side of the cylinder near one end
they drill a hole by applying a piece of hard wood
made red-hot. They press the red-hot wood to the
bamboo, and blow it to incandescence, repeating the
operation until a hole is pierced. They next knock a
hole in the opposite end of the bamboo, so as to admit
a current of air. The red-hot wood is now applied
again to the original hole, and they blow through the
hole knocked in the opposite end until the small hole
in the side is gradually enlarged. The "Bau-bau" is
now complete, except for its ornamentation. Elabo-
rate patterns are scratched on the hard enamel of the
bamboo with glass, a knife, a stone, or red-hot wood,
and the speed with which this decoration is accom-
plished is extraordinary.

In the accompanying illustration I show some of
the prevailing patterns. On the march our men would
cut a bamboo, and on reaching camp would borrow some
suitable tool from us, and make a pipe in a very short
time. They were sufficiently accomplished smokers,
however, to like an old 4 ( Bau-bau" best, and gave the
reason, which will be appreciated by every smoker,
that tobacco is not good in a new one.

The method of smoking is elaborate. They roll
a leaf into a little horn, and insert it in the smaller
hole on the side of the " Bau-bau/' within this leaf
is placed the charge of tobacco which they light, and
then placing their lips to the end hole they draw.
The little horn, or cigarette as one may call it, is now
removed from the hole in the side, and if the pipe is

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BURIAL AND WITCHCRAFT

new they blow away the first charge of smoke, by
placing their lips to the hole in which the cigarette
was originally inserted. Again the cigarette is placed
in the small hole, and the pipe is drawn from the end
hole. This time the smoke is intended to be used,
so the cigarette is removed from the small hole, and
the smoker applying his lips thereto inhales the whole
charge. Again the cigarette is removed, and the pipe
is filled by a long pull at the end hole, but this time
the smoker does not inhale the charge himself, but
removes the cigarette and politely hands the charged
pipe to his neighbour, who punctiliously rubs the
mouthpiece, and enjoys the long whiff. Very often
there is one drawer for an entire party, whose duty it
is to fill the pipe with smoke, and pass it so filled to
each of his companions in turn.

They usually sit in a circle for these smoking
parties ; and in camp the " Bau-bau " is continually
used. They grow their own tobacco, which is very
rank, and not good smoking at all. In fact, the
natives themselves cannot inhale much, as it makes
them giddy ; and they are not infrequently seized with
severe fits of coughing when the fumes have proved
particularly suffocating.

The supply of tobacco is carried in the armlet or
behind the ear — this last method being not unknown
to the festive Cockney, who, on Bank Holiday, is
seldom complete without a cigarette so worn.

The pipe at the end of the day's march was invari-
ably well earned, for the heartiness and endurance of
my carriers were almost incredible. On one occasion
I despatched a party to one of my camps, thirty miles

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BURIAL AND WITCHCRAFT

distant, through an almost inaccessible mountain
region. They left at eight o'clock in the morning,
and came into camp again at five in the afternoon
of the following day, having accomplished the whole
journey of sixty miles, and the latter half while they
were burdened with their loads of rice, tinned provi-
sions, tobacco and hardware, and all the other mis-
cellaneous articles known as "trade." The women's
loads weighed about 50 lbs., the men's somewhat less,
for the women are the great burden-bearers in New
Guinea.

The difficulties of our march were heightened by
certain natural features, particularly the stinging-trees,
which occurred close to Madui. The tree in shape,
size, and foliage resembles a sycamore, and has a
leaf of which the under side is extremely rough and
covered with spines. These possess a stinging power
like that of the nettle, only much worse, and the
irritation lasts far longer. The slightest touch is
sufficient to wound. First a white blister appears,
then redness, covering about a square inch around
each pustule ; rubbing aggravates the irritation, which
shortly becomes maddening. The pain is not allayed
for at least twelve hours ; and I have never observed
any natural antidote growing in the vicinity of this
stinging-tree, as the dock-leaf grows near the nettle.
Needless to say, the natives take the utmost care to
give these trees a wide berth.

A smaller stinging-plant, resembling our nettle,
only larger, with a rough under side of pale pea-green,
is also found at intervals in the forest ; both sides of
the leaf possess the power of irritation. The natives

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BURIAL AND WITCHCRAFT

use it as a universal specific for all ailments. As soon
as they come on a clump of this plant the women
discard their loads and gather bundles of the leaves,
which they carefully preserve for future requirements.
It is also applied probably for the sheer pleasure of
it when they have no actual disorder, and it is quite
common for them to rub their bodies lightly with
the leaves. This causes violent irritation, followed
by a feeling of pleasant numbness, like that which
results from the application of menthol. For a
mosquito bite this is a most admirable remedy, since
the irritation of the bite is allayed and goes down
long before the irritation of the leaf has passed. It
is a curious example of the old medical practice of
counter-irritation. Although we were glad to resort
to it for mosquito bites, no European would without
that cause risk the irritation for the sake of possible
future benefits.

While on the subject of Papuan sovereign re-
medies, I may mention a curious form of bleeding
which is in use among the tribes, especially among
the younger men. The bleeding is performed by
two persons, who sit opposite to each other. The
operator takes a small drill, or rather probe of
cassowary bone brought to an extremely fine point,
and this is attached to the string of a tiny bow
about 4 inches long. Holding the bow as if he were
going to shoot, the operator aims the little probe at
the patient's forehead, draws the bow slowly, and lets
the string go ; the probe is thus brought into sharp
contact with the patient's skin, and the operation
of drawing the bow and letting flv the arrow is

324

BURIAL AND WITCHCRAFT

repeated again and again until blood is drawn. It
should be remembered that the probe or arrow is
always attached to the string and never escapes. The
patient now leans forward, and the blood is allowed
to flow profusely on to the ground.

I have often seen as much as half a pint allowed
to escape. When faintness supervenes the wound
is staunched with ashes or any convenient styptic,
and the patient sits up. If the ashes fail to act,
cautery with a hot cinder is practised. Headache is
the usual trouble for which this remedy is applied,
and this frequency of bleeding may be the reason
why there is no heart disease or sudden death among
the natives. This may probably lend colour to the
theory of some physicians, that the increase of heart
disease and sudden death in civilised nations is due
to the entire abandonment of bleeding, once certainly
carried to excess.

Although the women do all the hard work of the
house and in the field, they are nevertheless regarded
with affection. It is erroneous to suppose that they
are compelled to be burden-bearers because they are
lightly esteemed. As far as my own observation
goes, the men are left free of loads, or are given
lighter loads, in order that they may be ready to pro-
tect the women from the sudden raids of other tribes.
Their gardens are often a considerable distance from
the village, and the women never go to gather yams
or taro, or to till their patches, without an escort of
young men as protectors.

On the other hand, the men are not idle, but
perform their part in the economic system by

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BURIAL AND WITCHCRAFT

acting as hunters. Their chief game is the pig, the
cassowary, and the wallaby. They hunt this quarry
with spears, and drive the game into nets which
have been spread between the trees and posts in
the forest over a considerable area, forming a corral,
approached by a long decoy, two long lines of nets
gradually converging. When the nets have been set
the drive commences. The beaters extend themselves
for a considerable distance, and, with the assistance
of dogs, gradually force the game towards the nets.
The game is plentiful, and as it closes towards the
corral, birds and beasts are forced into the centre in
crowds. At length the hunters close round the
opening, a final rush is made, and the victims are
despatched with spears. These hunting bouts occur
only at long intervals, and on the lower slopes of the
mountains. After a successful drive there is a great
jollification. Fires are built in the camp, the game
is roasted, and in an incredibly short space of time
every portion has disappeared, and the people are
lying around gorged.

In one particular delicacy favoured by the Papuans
I was, as an entomologist, very much interested. The
natives are exceedingly fond of the larvae of a large
tropical beetle, one of the Passalidse, which are found
in decayed tree trunks. Whenever the natives noticed
the presence of the borings made by the larvae, they
seized a native instrument, probably one of their stone
axes, dug out the dainty, which is about five inches
long, and ate it raw. Should a fire be handy, they
would sometimes throw the larvee into the ashes, give
it a turn or two, and then enjoy it : the flavour is

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BURIAL AND WITCHCRAFT

said to resemble that of a lemon. I could never,
however, bring myself to try it.

The Papuans are a jovial, light-hearted people,
and when a stranger has once won their confidence
they are hospitable and friendly. Their trust when
once gained will stand even rather severe tests, as I
found to my great satisfaction and advantage after
a stay of some months at Mount Kebea. I was
anxious to push farther into the interior, but found
myself absolutely without beads, which are the journey
money of the explorer. It would have delayed me
too long to have waited for the return of my mes-
sengers, who had been sent to the coast for a further
supply, so I hit upon the expedient of trying how far
my credit with the natives would go. I called the
tribe — men, women, and children — together, and in a
lengthy harangue I explained the situation to them ;
finally asking them if they would lend me their beads,
which every one of them wore on his or her person
in considerable profusion, promising them that on my
return I would pay them double the quantity. This
tribe, be it noted, was not to accompany me farther,
and the beads would have to be given to other bearers,
whom I should engage as I proceeded. These orna-
mentations are to the Papuans as precious as her
pearls are to a grande dame, but, nevertheless, every
man, woman, and child immediately consented to the
loan. This appreciation of the idea of credit — one
might almost say of banking — denotes a considerable
receptivity of mind, and shows that the Papuan cannot
be inaccessible to civilisation.

I cannot pass from the subject of the Papuan at

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BURIAL AND WITCHCRAFT

home without saying something about his children,
who are the merriest little creatures imaginable.
Without being very demonstrative, the parents like
them well enough, and the child is not at all hardly
used — although, be it remembered, the family pig has
a deeper place in the adults' affections. In times of
stress it is to be feared it is the pig that is first
considered, probably because it is so important an
article of diet. The devotion to this animal goes
far further than that of Pat, for it is not unusual
to see a Papuan woman acting as foster-mother to
a young pig.

But to return to the children ; up to the age of
seven their life is one long holiday, and they very
early begin to practise the use of weapons. Spear-
throwing is their favourite sport ; for this they use
a long stick of grass with an enlarged root. They
pull off all the leaves until the shaft is clean, and
the root is allowed to remain to represent the heavy
head of the spear. Their targets are each other, and
at a very early age they have acquired a marvellous
dexterity, hitting each other with nicest accuracy even
at 40 feet range. Every hit is registered with a de-
lighted jump and a howl. The amount of cleverness
and dexterity required for this spear practice was
realised by my son, who tried it, and found that not
only could he not hit, but he could not make the
spear carry. Very small girls play also at spear-
throwing, but they give it up early.

We were very much amused to find the presence
of " Cat's Cradle " ; we had thought to amuse the
little ones by teaching them this game, but we found

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BURIAL AND WITCHCRAFT

that they were already more than our masters therein ;
for they no sooner saw what we were after than they
let us know that they were well acquainted with it,
and whereas we had just the old stereotyped process
to give them, they showed us thirty different ways.
They did not, however, play in pairs as we do, the
players taking the string from each other's hands
in turn, but each child sits by himself or herself and
works out the pattern. It is really amusing to see
how they effect the different changes and the regular
routine of forms by the movement of the fingers alone,
without the aid of another pair of hands.

The dogs at Epa and Port Moresby were highly
favoured animals. Not only had they the run of the
house, but each house had an entrance sacred to the
dog. To this access was given by special dog-ladders
9 inches wide, with the rungs quite a foot apart, up
and down which the animals ran like monkeys.

331

CHAPTER XVII

A NOTE ON BRITISH TRADE PROSPECTS
IN NEW GUINEA

Sandal-wood — The Sea- Slug — Copra and Cocoa-Nut — Coffee —
Cocoa — Chillies — Rubber — Stock - Raising — Gold — Tobacco —
Imports — German Enterprise — Our Lost Coaling Station.

333 Q

CHAPTER XVII

A NOTE ON BRITISH TRADE PROSPECTS IN
NEW GUINEA

The intelligent observer of New Guinea cannot fail to
recognise that the country presents a vast unopened
field for the development of British trade. Many
sources of wealth are as yet absolutely untouched,
but experiments that have recently been made in
coffee, tobacco, cocoa, and rubber, yield the richest
promise. The geographical configuration of the coast
will greatly aid the enterprising trader, for many
centres of industry can easily be approached by water
at such inlets as Hall Sound, and the cost of trans-
port from the interior would consequently be a mere
bagatelle.

One of the chief industries is sandal-wood cutting.
The sandal-wood is found in arid, elevated regions,
and the particular spots where the trees grow in any
quantity are known to the trade as patches. These
patches, however, do not signify that the trees grow
closely together. One tree might be found here and
another might not occur for a hundred yards or so ;
but still there is an area of sandal -wood growth
sufficiently definite to justify the title " patch. " For
any one who understands the intricacies of the situa-
tion, and the proper method of going to work, there
is something to be made ; but at present the develop-

335

BRITISH TRADE PROSPECTS

ment of the trade is beset with difficulties which can
only be surmounted by one who is thoroughly familiar
with the country and the conditions.

A rich source of income, still only little worked,
is the trade in beche-de-mer, the sea-slug, which is an
indispensable article of seasoning in every Chinese
kitchen. This commands £jo a ton in the China
market, and the variety known as the " black fish "
fetches as much as £100 a ton. It is used for
thickening gravies and soups. These molluscs are
about 9 inches long and 3 inches thick, and are to
be found adhering to the corals. The Papuans dive
for them, and when they have secured them they are
split open, dried in the sun, and packed in boxes.
This trade could be made very profitable to any
capable operator who cared to embark a moderate
capital in its development. Divers can be had for
a little tobacco or a few shells, a knife or an axe,
but the chief expense is the preparation and pre-
servation for the market. As a matter of fact, an
enterprising Brisbane firm has lately introduced the
tinning system for this mollusc, but the China market
is supplied with the dried commodity untinned.

There is also much to be done in copra and in
cocoa-nut products generally. Large cocoa-nut planta-
tions pay well, as every part of the tree can be
utilised, and there is no doubt that a great deal of
business can be done with Java, which at present
cannot produce enough cocoa-nut fibre for its mat
industry, and actually brings consignments all the
way from Ceylon. The copra is in great demand
amongst soap-makers, and one large firm has pros-

336

BRITISH TRADE PROSPECTS

pectors at work in the interior of the islands with
a view to increasing the supply. To my own know-
ledge efforts are being made to extend this trade, by
several Europeans, east and west of Hall Sound, but
there is plenty of room for others without in any way
damaging the prosperity of the industry.

New Guinea is favourable to the production of
coffee, although the plant is not indigenous to the
island. A fine quality is grown at Wariratti. The
plantations are flourishing, but here again the enter-
prise is still young. The trade is so new that the
experimental stage is hardly passed. It cannot be
doubted that Australia offers a vast and lucrative
market to the future coffee grower of New Guinea.

Cocoa and chillies thrive in the Mekeo region, and
this district is also very rich in fruit. The Govern-
ment at Port Moresby often sends down a sailing vessel
to bring back large consignments of fruit for the con-
victs in Port Moresby jail. The fruit-farmer might
find in the Mekeo region a richer California.

In about the same condition as the coffee is the
rubber trade. Trees are found throughout the pos-
session, and the natives have some understanding of
the method of collecting the sap. Their operations
are, however, very crude and rough. I question
whether the New Guinea rubber would ever rival
in excellence the South American variety (hevea
JBraziliensis), which is undoubtedly the finest in the
market, although Ceylon is just commencing to send
rubber which may run it hard.

To the stock-raiser New Guinea offers a tempting
field. At the Mission of the Sacred Heart on Yule

339

BRITISH TRADE PROSPECTS

Island I saw remarkably fine cattle — cows and oxen —
which had doubtless been introduced from Australia.
Not only the headquarters of the Mission, but the out-
lying stations, were plentifully supplied with milk and
butter, and, at the time I was there, they hoped to be
in a position to kill a beast a week, an important con-
sideration, for fresh meat is valuable in New Guinea.
I did not see sheep in New Guinea at all, but goats
were met with at Hall Sound, although they are not
raised in any great numbers. On Yule Island the
pasturage is splendid, and drought, that terror of the
Australian squatter, is by no means frequent.

Turning to the mineral wealth, for the past five
years gold workings have been carried on at the Yodda
Fields, on the Mombare River, in the north-east por-
tion of the island. The gold is alluvial. Although I
cannot give the exact figures of the output, some idea
of the productiveness of the region may be obtained
from the fact that, for the last five years, 1 50 miners
have been able to live on these fields. When it is
remembered that the price of provisions at the Yodda
Camp is prohibitive, it is not an extravagant assump-
tion to compute that each man must be turning out at
least three ounces of gold per week to make it worth
his while to remain. There are other workings in the
Woodlark Islands, and there are certainly evidences
of gold everywhere in the streams of New Guinea. It
does not seem likely that the miners are turning their
earnings to the best account at the present time. The
local stores, of course, consume a great deal of their
dust, and when a man has got a fair pile together he
not infrequently goes down to Samarai, and has what

340

BRITISH TRADE PROSPECTS

he calls " a good time," returning with empty pockets
to begin his labour over again. I believe the Govern-
ment is now making a road to the Yodda Fields, and
when this is completed, the longer route will be aban-
doned, and provisions on the fields will be cheaper.

As regards imports for commerce with the natives,
the chief desiderata are the articles technically known
as " trade," with which the labour to be used for de-
veloping the exports is remunerated. The native
generally desires to receive from the white man
knives, axes, tobacco, Jews' harps, beads, dogs'
teeth, and red calico ; but it is to the exports that
the enterprising trader has to look in the future.

The finest field for enterprise in New Guinea —
and one which I have therefore left to the last
to be dealt with — is tobacco. The district of Mekeo
produces a magnificent leaf, of which the seed
has been imported from Cuba. The syndicate that
imported the leaf applied to the Government for
100,000 acres of land in the central division of British
New Guinea, but this request was opposed by the
New South Wales Government, without reason vouch-
safed to the Government of the possession, whose
officials in a recent report described this action as " a
very serious blow to the immediate development of
the country by Australian capitalists of high standing."
The same report, while deploring this misfortune,
remarks that the tobacco should do very well if the
leaf is properly treated for the market, as the soil
appears to be very rich. Very different was the action
of the German authorities in the Kaiser's New
Guinea possessions. With their usual indefatig-

34i

BRITISH TRADE PROSPECTS

able enterprise, the Teutons have financed a large
tobacco undertaking, and are exporting the leaf in
great quantities. Their syndicate has so far intro-
duced methods of civilised trade that they have struck
and issued their own coinage (which bears the image
of a bird of paradise), and their five-mark, two-mark,
and one-mark pieces are accepted by the natives
instead of trade. These pieces are, of course, spent
by the natives in the German stores. Not without
reason did the Prince of Wales advise Greit Britain to
wake up.

With all these extraordinary opportunities, it is a
curious fact that, as regards shipping, the island is in
a worse position for trade than it was twenty years
ago. Even as recently as 1902, the Moresby was
calling every five weeks at Port Moresby, but now her
route has been changed, and she sails from Sydney to
Singapore, calling at Port Moresby only once every
two and a half months. In the interval goods and
mails are carried in an erratic manner by a little
steamer called the Parua, by the Merrie England (a
Government survey boat), or by the St. Andrew, the
Sacred Heart Mission boat. Two small sailing vessels,
it is true, sail between Cook Town and Samarai, but
this does not improve the communication with Port
Moresby, the seat of Government, as these vessels
make no call there. It is almost incredible that the
second largest island in the world — the " Pearl of the
East," probably the richest region in proportion to its
size that Great Britain has the option of developing —
is thus left hermit-like in the midst of the eastern
seas. It is the more surprising when it is remembered

342

BRITISH TRADE PROSPECTS

that New Guinea lies directly on the trade route be-
tween Sydney and the great commercial centres of
China and Japan. We might have had a magnificent
coaling station on the east coast of the island, in
the Dampier Strait, but for the action of Lord Derby,
when he permitted the Germans to extend their
possessions so as to occupy almost a quarter of
the eastern peninsula of the island. As matters
stand now, a coaling station could only be estab-
lished at such a point on the south-eastern coast
that vessels coming and going from Sydney would
have to double the south-east cape, thus making an
awkward and almost impossible ddtour in these days
when time is more than ever the essence of every ship-
ping contract.

343

CHAPTER XVIII

NOTES ON SOME BIRDS OF NEW GUINEA

The Birds of Paradise — Remarkable Species observed — Native
Names — Play-Places — Curious Habits — The Bower - Bird :
Artist, Architect, and Gardener.

CHAPTER XVIII

NOTES ON SOME BIKDS OF NEW GUINEA

New Guinea is remarkable for its paucity of mammals
and its richness in birds. As we have already noted,
at least 770 different species of birds are known, and
to these doubtless many more will be added as the
explorer ventures farther into the interior. The chief
haunts of the blue bird-of-paradise, the Paradisornis
Rudolphi, are in Central British New Guinea, at an
altitude of from 4000 to 6000 feet. There are about
a dozen species of the bird-of-paradise, and at Mafulu
we obtained the following, of which I give, where
possible, the native name : —

Lophorina atra
Epimachus magnus
Astrapia stephaniae
Parotia Lawsii
Diphyllodis speciosa
Ptiloris magnifica

Wagoda.

Yawvee.

Beebee.

Aliga.

Kellolo.

Besides these we found two species of bower-bird —

Amblyornis subalaris.
Laurea lori.

The limit of the king bird (Cicinnurus Regius)
was at an elevation of about 1 500 feet. It has a bril-
liant crimson back, the throat crimson, with a green
band edged with another narrow band of crimson.

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BIRDS OF NEW GUINEA

The breast is white, the beak blue, two big tail
feathers curve gracefully outwards, and end in spatula?
of brilliant green on the upper side. There are also
shortish plumes on each side ending in a band of
green.

At Ekeikei and Dinawa, but chiefly at Dinawa,
were the playgrounds of the Diphyllodis magnified.
These were very remarkable. The bird chooses a
fairly clear space among saplings ten or fifteen feet
high. These it clears of leaves, and also the ground
between, making all beautifully clean and level.
There it dances, leaping from tree to tree, running
along the ground for a little, and then taking to the
branches again. Every movement is extraordinarily
rapid. If any leaves are thrown into the enclosure
the bird gets very angry, and flings them out again
immediately.

Sam told me that on the Kebea he had observed
the play-place of the Parotia Lawsii, which is even
more singular. The bird digs a hole, at least a foot
in diameter, and over it places cross-sticks. Above
these again it strews leaves and other vegetable refuse,
and on the top of that it dances. Its playtime is the
morning, but during the day it haunts the tops of the
highest trees, and is consequently very difficult to
come by.

I was fortunate enough to be able to observe one
of the latest and most wonderful discoveries among
the birds-of-paradise, the Paradisornis Rudolphi,
familiarly known as the blue bird-of-paradise. It
feeds on the larvse of beetles found in the umbrella
head of the mountain pandanus. This tree has adven-

348

BIRDS OF NEW GUINEA

titious roots which spring clear of the ground to a
height of sixty feet, and then throw out flag leaves in
the shape of an umbrella. From the umbrella top
hang fine clusters of scarlet fruit. The decomposition
of the vegetable matter at the point where the leaves
stretch out gives refuge to the pupse of beetles of
many diverse species, and these prove a great attrac-
tion to the blue bird-of-paradise, who finds them
excellent eating. The bird is about the size of a jay,
and is very gorgeous. The upper part of its wings
is a sky blue ; the side plumes are in gradations of
brilliant greenish blue and ultramarine ; when the
plumes are spread there is also a band of brown
feathers. The head resembles that of the common
crow, but is smaller. From the upper part of the tail
spring two elongated feathers with two light-blue
spatulse at the tips. In the same pandanus tree lives
also the Astrapia stephanise, remarkable for its long
tail, with two violet feathers and a white shaft. The
upper part of this bird's breast is a most brilliant
green, with a band of copper below. In one light it
appears shaded with violet. The back of the head is
violet with gold iridescence. The whole length of the
bird is 2 feet 6 inches.

Equally wonderful is the bower-bird, at once
gardener, architect, and artist. Not only does it build
the most extraordinary nest known to naturalists — a
long, tunnel-like bower framed like a delicate Gothic
arch, but it actually lays out a garden. I have myself
seen the creature's marvellous achievement. It has
definite colour-sense, for it picks the blossoms of
orchids, and arranges them in alternate lines of mauve

349

BIRDS OF NEW GUINEA

and white. The whole impulse is, of course, the
universal one of love, for among its rows of flowers
it dances to its mate. This was probably the prettiest
and most fascinating of all the sights provided by
nature in New Guinea, that land of surprises.

35°

APPENDICES

APPENDIX I

NEW LEPIDOPTERA DISCOVERED DURING
THE EXPEDITION

Species.

Dicalleneura ekeikei, spec,
nov.

Gunda kebea, spec. nov.
Pseudodreata strigata,

spec. nov.
Tarsolepis sommeri dina-

wensis, sub-spec. nov.
Pseudogargetta diversa,

spec. nov.
Osica turneri, spec. nov.

Cascera bella, spec. nov.

Hirsutopalpis fasciata,

spec. nov.
Omichlis hampsoni, spec.

nov.

Omichlis dinawa, spec,
nov.

Omichlis ochracea, spec,
nov.

Omichlis griseola, spec,
nov.

Omichlis pratti, spec. nov.
Omichlis rufofasciata,

spec. nov.
Stauropus viridissimus,

spec. nov.
Stauropus kebese, spec. nov.

Place.

Ekeikei

Mount Kebea
Dinawa

Dinawa

Dinawa; Ekeikei

Dinawa and

Mount Kebea;

Ekeikei
Ekeikei; Dinawa

Dinawa

Ekeikei and

Mount Kebea
Ekeikei

Ekeikei
Mount Kebea

Dinawa; Ekeikei

Mount Kebea

Season.

March and April
March to April

May and June

August and Septem-
ber ; January and
February

January and Febru- .

ary; August
May and June

September

January and February

January and February
March or April

March and April

353

APPENDIX I

Species.

Place.

Stauropus dubiosus, spec,
nov.

Stauropus bella, spec. nov.
Stauropus dinawa, spec,
nov.

Stauropus pratti, spec,
nov.

Notodonta irrorativiridis,

spec. nov.
Cerura multipunctata,

spec. nov.
Thyatira dinawa
Thyatira ekeikei, spec.

nov.

Parazeuzera celaena, spec,
nov.

Parazeuzera aurea, spec,
nov.

Scopelodes dinawa, spec,
nov.

Scopelodes nitens, spec,
nov.

Birthama dinawa, spec,
nov.

Contheyla pratti, spec,
nov.

Contheyla ekeikei, spec,
nov.

Contheyla birthama, spec. |
nov.

Dinawa rufa, spec. nov. j
Dinawa nigricans, spec, i
nov.

Pygmseomorpha modesta, |

spec. nov.
Pygmaeomorpha brunnea,

spec. nov.
Lasiolimacos pratti, spec.

nov.

Lasiolimacos kenricki,

spec. nov.
Lasiolimacos ferruginea,

spec. nov.
Euproctis rubroradiata,

spec. nov.

Mount Kebea ;
Ekeikei

Ekeikei
Dinawa

Ekeikei

Dinawa

Dinawa
Ekeikei

Dinawa

Ekeikei

Dinawa
Dinawa

Dinawa

Dinawa; Ekeikei

Dinawa
Ekeikei
Dinawa

Season.

A series taken in
March and April ;
January to March

January and February

May and June
May and June
September

January and February

August

September

August

March and April

January and February

July and September
August and Septem-
ber
August

August

August and Septem-
ber ; January and
February

January to February
August and March

354

APPENDIX I

Species.

Euproctis pratti, spec,
nov.

Euproctis irregularis, spec,
nov.

Euproctis albociliata, spec,
nov.

Euproctis novaguinensis,

spec. nov.
Euproctis sublutea, spec.

nov.

Diversosexus bicolor, spec,
nov.

Anthela ekeikei, spec,
nov.

Dasychira subnigra, spec,
nov.

Dasychira subnigropunc-

tata, spec. nov.
Dasychira brunnea, spec.

nov.

Dasychira minor, spec,
nov.

Dasychira kenricki
Dasychiroides obsoleta,

spec. nov.
Dasychiroides nigrostri-

gata, spec. nov.

Dasychiroides pratti, spec,
nov.

Dasychiroides bicolora,

spec. nov.
Dasychiroides brunneo-

strigata, spec. nov.
Lymantria ekeikei, spec.

nov.

Lymantria kebea, spec,
nov.

Imaus niveus, spec. nov.
Imaus spodea, spec. nov.

Imaus aroa, spec. nov.
Nervicompressa unistri-
gata, spec. nov.

Place.

Dinawa

Dinawa ;

River
Ekeikei

Aroa

Ekeikei ; Mount

Kebea
Dinawa ; Mount

Kebea
Dinawa

Ekeikei

Dinawa

Owen Stanley
range

Dinawa and
generally dis-
tributed

Dinawa ; Ekeikei

Dinawa ; Mount

Kebea
Dinawa

Ekeikei

Mount Kebea

Ekeikei and
Mount Kebea

Dinawa; Ekeikei
and Mount
Kebea

Aroa River

Dinawa

Season.

August

September

January

June and July
March and April

August
September
August
August

June to August

July and August ;
January and Feb-
ruary

January and February

March and April

August ; March and
April

January

July to September

355

APPENDIX I

Species.

Nervicompressa lunulata
Nervicompressa alboma-

culata, spec. nov.
Nervicompressa dubia,

spec. nov.
Nervicompressa kebea,

spec. nov.
Nervicompressa aroa, spec.

nov.

Lasiochra pulchra, spec,
nov.

Squamosala nigrostigmata,

spec. nov.
Taragama dinawa, spec.

nov.

Taragama rubiginea, spec,
nov.

Taragama proserpina, spec,
nov.

Arguda pratti, spec. nov.
Isostigena bicellata, spec,
nov.

Sporostigena uniformis,

spec. nov.
Odonestis centralistrigata,

spec. nov.
Caviria dinawa, spec. nov.
Porthesia ekeikei, spec.

nov.

Euproctis swinhoei, spec,
nov.

Euproctis virginea, spec,
nov.

Euproctis parallelaria,

spec. nov.
Euproctis kebea, spec.

nov.

Euproctis dinawa, spec,
nov.

Euproctis yulei, spec. nov.
Imaus pratti, spec. nov.

Deilemera kebea, spec,
nov.

Deilemera dinawa, spec,
nov.

Place.

Season.

Dinawa
Dinawa

Dinawa

Kebea

Aroa River

Dinawa

Ekeikei
I Dinawa

; Dinawa

i Dinawa

Dinawa
Ekeikei

Mount Kebea

Ekeikei

Dinawa

Mount Kebea

Dinawa

Dinawa
Dinawa

Mount Kebea

Dinawa

August
August

September

March and April

August and Septem-
ber
August

Taken in May and
J une, and again in
August and Sep-
tember

August

I January
Taken in May and
again in August

August

September
March to April

March to April

January to April

August and Septem-
ber
March

August

August and Septem-
ber

March and April

August and Septem-
ber

356

APPENDIX I

Species.

Deilemera pratti, spec,
nov.

Maenas punctatostrigata,

spec. nov.
Diacrisia pratti, spec. nov.

Diacrisia dinawa, spec,
nov.

Diacrisia kebea, spec. nov.
Celama fuscibasis, spec,
nov.

Celama aroa, spec. nov.

Acatapaustus basifusca,

spec. nov.
Acatapaustus ekeikei,

spec. nov.
Scoliacma hampsoni, spec.

nov.

Nishada melanopa, spec,
nov.

Acco bicolora, spec. nov.
Pseudilema dinawa, spec,
nov.

Ilema ekeikei, spec. nov.
Ilema dinawa, spec. nov.

Ilema costistrigata, spec,
nov.

Ilema unicolora, spec. nov.
Ilema hades, spec. nov.
Ilema nivea, spec. nov.
Chrysaeglia bipunctata,

spec. nov.
GEonistis bicolora, spec.

nov.

Macaduma bipunctata,

spec. nov.
Halone flavopunctata,

spec. nov.
Chionaema dinawa, spec.

nov.

Chionaema charybdis,

spec. nov.
Cleolosia aroa, spec. nov.
Asura ochreomaculata,

spec. nov.

Place.

Owen Stanley

range
Mount Kebea ;

Dinawa
Mount Kebea ;

Dinawa
Dinawa

Kebea
Dinawa

Dinawa ; Aroa

River
Dinawa

Ekeikei

Dinawa

Dinawa
Dinawa

Ekeikei
Dinawa

Ekeikei

Dinawa
Dinawa
Dinawa

Mount Kebea ;

type, Dinawa
Dinawa

Dinawa, type ;

Ekeikei
Dinawa

Dinawa

Dinawa
Dinawa

Season.

September and March

and April
August and March

and April
March and April ;

August
August

March and April
August

J anuary and February

September and Janu-
ary
March

September

June to July

August and February
August and Septem-
ber

J anuary and February
August and Septem-
ber

August and Septem-
ber
August

September

March and April ;

August
May to June

August

September

September
August

357

APPENDIX I

Species.

Place.

Season.

Asura flaveola, spec. nov.
Asura brunneofasciata,

spec. nov.
Asura unicolora, spec. nov.
Asura sagittaria, spec. nov.
Asura rosacea, spec. nov.
Asura dinawa, spec. nov.
Eugoa tricolora, spec. nov.
Eugoa conflua, spec. nov.

Dinawa
Dinawa

Dinawa
Dinawa
Dinawa
Dinawa
Dinawa
Dinawa

September

August and Septem-
ber
September
August
August
August
August

August and Septem-
ber
August
August

Amphoraceras rothschildi
Parabasis pratti, spec,
nov.

Collusa ekeikei, spec. nov.

Dinawa
Dinawa

Ekeikei ; Mount
Kebea

January and Febru-
ary ; March and
April

358

APPENDIX II

A NEW REPTILE FROM DINAWA

Toxicocalamus Stanleyanus

Rostral much broader than deep, just visible from above ; inter-
nasals nearly as long as the prefrontals, which are in contact
with the second upper labial and with the eye; frontal small,
slightly broader than the supraocular, once and three-fourths as
long as broad, as long as its distance from the end of the snout,
a little shorter than the parietals ; one postocular ; temporals, one
plus two ; five upper labials, second and third entering the eye ;
three lower labials in contact with the anterior chin-shields, which
are larger than the posterior. Scales in fifteen rows. Ventrals,
261; anal entire; subcaudals, twenty-five pairs; tail ending in a
compressed, obtusely pointed scute, which is obtusely keeled above.
Blackish-brown above • traces of a yellowish nuchal collar ; upper
lip white ; two outer rows of scales white, each scale with a blackish
central spot ; ventrals and subcaudals white, with a black spot on
each side, some of the ventrals with an interrupted blackish border.
Total length, 610 millimetres; tail, 40.

359

APPENDIX III

A NEW FISH DISCOVERED BY THE EXPEDITION

Mhiacichthys Novce-Guinece

Depth of body nearly equal to length of head, five to six times in
total length. Diameter of eye six or seven times in length of head,
interorbital width three times ; snout but very slightly longer than
postocular part of head. Dorsals VII., I. 8-9 ; longest spine, f ;
longest soft ray § length of head. Anal I. 8-9 ; longest ray as
long as head. Pectoral about 1 \ length of head ; ventral as long
as head, or a little longer. Caudal feebly emarginate. Caudal
peduncle 2\ as long as deep. Scales strongly ciliated, 37 to 39 in
a longitudinal series on each side, 14 or 16 round caudal peduncle.
Dark olive above, whitish beneath.
Total length, 225 millimetres.

Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson &* Co.
Edinburgh 6* London

GETTY RESEARCH^
3 3125 01378 3754

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