LECTURE VIIIFIJI AND THE WESTERN PACIFIC

North Island: Political.

Let us now start on our journey by rail and observe the country as we pass rapidly through it. At first wetravel through open lands with many prosperous-looking farms. Then, as we turn northward on the main trunk line, the scenery gradually changes; there are rugged hills, plateaus with steep broken edges, and rivers running at the bottom of narrow gorges. The whole face of the country looks disturbed and unfinished, and becomes wilder and more desolate as we approach the volcanic district in the centre. At Waiouru, we leave the train and mount a coach which jolts us sadly over the rough roads. From the station, looking northward, we can see in the distance the great cone of Ruapehu, with slopes of dark purple and a15dazzling cap of snow upon the summit. Beyond it are other cones, one of which, Ngauruhoe, we see here;16and below us, as we drive along, is the Wangaehu, a narrow stream flowing in a dark grey bed, its waters heavily charged with sulphur. Further on is the Waikiti, at the bottom of a deep chasm.

As we draw near to Lake Taupo we notice here and there puffs of steam rising from the scrub at the side of the road, and on the roadway we meet Maoris, tattered and dirty looking. Here we see two of them meeting and17saluting one another by touching noses. At last we drive on to the jetty at Tokaanu at the southern end of the lake. There are more Maoris here and on the steam launch which is to take us to the other end. Taupo lies right up on the central volcanic plateau, and we are about to visit part of the great geyser region a short distance from its northern end. It is the largest of the lakes of New Zealand, and is interesting not so much for its beauty, as it has little, but for its close connexion with Maori history. Here is a view18of the lake looking back towards Tokaanu and the volcanic range of mountains.

A short drive from the landing place at the northern end brings us to Wairakei, where we walk down a pleasant green valley to view the geysers. First wevisit the Champagne Pool, a little lake with steep red19walls and deposits of white silica on the lower rocks. Here the water is always bubbling and spouting at a temperature above boiling point. The deposits of silica often form beautiful terraces: the most famous in the world were at Rotomahana, not far from Lake Rotorua which lies at the north end of our district. Here are two pictures of the Rotomahana terraces; notice20the people bathing in the hot pools. These great terraces were destroyed by the eruption of Mount Tarawera21in 1886, but there are many smaller formations of the same kind to be seen in the district. Here, for22instance, is one gradually being built up round the Twin Geysers.

Further down the valley we come to the great Wairakei Geyser which plays for three minutes and then is quiet for eleven. Here is a distant view from23the opposite bank of the river; and here we see the geyser at work with great vigour. Notice the curious24projection in the foreground of the last picture; it is the trunk of a tree, petrified by the deposit of silica, which is not white here but pale coffee-colour. There is a rainbow, too, in the vapour above, which is unfortunately beyond the capacity of our camera. Other smaller geysers are all round us with deposits of claret-colour, black and yellow, due to the different salts dissolved in the hot water. The ground shakes with the explosions of steam beneath us, and everywhere is heat and vapour; yet all the time the cold waters of the Wairakei River are flowing by within a few feet of us. Scattered over the valley are beautiful lakes and pools of different colours. Here is one of them, the Blue Lake, lying in a corner of an old crater;25the perpendicular walls which form the bank in front of us are white striped with orange.

Everywhere in this district volcanic agencies have changed the face of nature. In one part we find longstretches of grey pumice plains, with no vegetation but dusty brown fern. In another part, great deposits of26sulphur have been laid down over the earth. It is a country with a beauty of its own, but more attractive to the tourist than to the colonist and settler. It still remains a barrier separating the centres of white settlement and only recently crossed by the trunk line of railway.

It was in this wild country, to which the rail and coach now bring curious visitors from all parts of the world, that not many years ago the Maoris made their last stand against British power. East and west of the lake is the King country of which we hear much in history; except for the tourist it is still in the main left to the Maoris.

In Australia, as we have seen, the real obstacles to settlement were the climate and the character of the country; the aborigines were pushed back into the wilder districts or simply crushed out of existence by the civilisation of the white man. Not so the Maori: he has been a very important element in the life of New Zealand, whether as friend or enemy of the white invader, from the time of the earliest settlers—the whalers of Cook Strait, and the traders, boat-builders, and missionaries of the Bay of Islands which lies on the east coast of the long northern peninsula. The British have been settled in New Zealand barely three-quarters of a century, as the proclamation of annexation dates only from 1840; while the Maori has been in possession for five or six centuries at least and shows no disposition to be crowded out. He was, when first we met him, on a far higher level than the aborigines of Australia.

Who, then, are the Maoris? They are a brown race, a race of seamen who came in their long double canoes from the islands to the north and settled along the neck of North Island—the Fish of Maui as theycalled it—and at Otago and some few other points in South Island. They brought with them their island customs, especially the division into families and clans which were always fighting among themselves. In New Zealand they found all the materials for their usual mode of existence: timber for their houses and sea-going canoes, native flax for the weaving of clothes, stones for their weapons, as they had no knowledge of metals; and fish everywhere in the rivers, lakes, and seas. So here they built their houses, with little patches of garden for their few vegetables, while the surrounding country was the common possession of the clan, whence they added roots, berries, and wild birds to the larder. Everywhere, in the best positions for defence, were dotted about their fortified enclosures,27or pahs, in which they took refuge in the numerous clan feuds. Their religion consisted of a kind of fetichism, and their whole life was subject to the principle oftapu, or taboo as we commonly spell it, a principle common over all this part of the Pacific, and among savage races elsewhere. The Maoris were chivalrous fighters, eloquent orators, and careful preservers of the traditions of their past history. Such was the race which, in the nineteenth century, contested the settlement of the island with us.

Here is a portrait of a chief showing the method of28tattooing the face. Here again we see him with histaiaha, or staff of office: he looks civilised enough29now; in fact, dressed as he is, he might be mistaken for an Englishman, but doubtless he was very different in the old days. He is nearly ninety years old, and so must have seen the settlement and fighting almost from the very beginning. The building behind the group is a meeting house of the usual Maori shape, though the galvanised iron roof seems scarcely to agree with the elaborate ornamentation of the woodwork. Notice the curious scroll carving on the fetich pillars:it is a favourite design among the Maoris and appears also in the tattooing of their bodies.

We see the Maori here in European dress and we find him entering Parliament and the learned professions, or becoming a successful farmer and grazier in every way as civilised as ourselves. But he is not anxious to be a mere imitator of the white man, as he is intensely proud of his own race and past history. In the remoter districts he still clings to his ancient fashion of life. Here is a typical group, in native dress, and here is the30simple private house of a chief. Again we have an interesting portrait of the daughter of a chief, holding31her father’s heavy staff; her curious dress is largely made up of the feathers of the wingless Kiwi, which we32have already seen.

The Maori dances are among the most interesting of their social customs. We may perhaps see thehaka, a survival of the old war-dance, performed by33half-clad warriors. It is now a ceremonial dance of welcome. Very different is thepoi, the pretty action-dance34and song of women and girls, which we may see in the dancing-house of any native village. We notice that the costumes of the dancers are made up of native flax and feathers. The chief native sport is the canoe race, as the water is everything to the Maori. Here is one of the huge dug-out war canoes, hewn from a single35tree-trunk, and now becoming somewhat rare; and here again we see his canoe used to mark the grave of a chief.36

We are now in the district south of the Bay of Plenty and near Lake Rotorua, which we reach by a railway running up the valley of the Thames. Here is a typical scene. In the group before us a woman37is smoking a pipe; we may often see the same thing among the peasants of Ireland. Down below, a crowd38of Maori children are bathing in the stream, while the tourists watch them from the bridge. The place iscalled Whakarewarewa, a name rather difficult to pronounce. This is the northern end of the geyser district, which we have already visited. Here we see39the tourists again, with their cameras, waiting for the great Wairoa Geyser to start; and here is the geyser40playing. Not far away are some Maori women cooking by the steam heat provided by nature.41

The centre of this region is Lake Rotorua, calm and cold, while all around on its banks are hot springs, geysers and boiling mud-holes. Here, where a few years ago was only bush, or primitive village, a fine modern town42has sprung up for the benefit of the tourist in search of beautiful scenery, or the invalid coming to the health-giving waters. Not far away is another lake, Rotomahana,43in a huge basin formed by the eruption which destroyed the famous terraces. Here we may enjoy the strange experience of boating on boiling water, with the geysers working all around us. Volcanic activity is everywhere in this wonderful country, and it is only natural that round it have gathered countless Maori legends.

We can easily understand the fondness of the Maoris for the water. They were a race of islanders and fishermen, never really happy unless their houses were built close to the water’s edge. This determined their mode of settlement; they only took to the dry land of the interior as a refuge from their enemies. So we found them, when first we entered the island, scattered along the narrow part of the Fish, where are bays and inlets in abundance, and along the coasts of the Bay of Plenty and the Taranaki Bight. Lake, river, and marsh were their dwelling places; and when we find them established of their own will in the interior, it is on the banks of Lake Taupo, a small sea in their eyes. The white settler wanted, in the main, the drier districts for his farms and cattle, that is, the parts of least value to the Maori; but none the less, settlement was noteffected without a generation of trouble and a long period of petty warfare.

[Seepage 105.

[Seepage 116.

[Seepage 108.

[Seepage 111.

Down to 1830, except for the missionaries, the Maoris knew us chiefly through the trading ships which visited the islands, and the few white men, not real settlers, who lived the life of the natives and sometimes took part in their clan feuds. The main occupation of the Maoris was fighting among themselves; and it was the petition of some chiefs in the Bay of Islands for protection from another clan which first led to the dispatch of a British official from New South Wales. This official had no real power and depended for his information as to the natives entirely on the missionary interpreters. Then a Frenchman intervened, and in 1835 proclaimed himself sovereign of New Zealand, apparently on the strength of some land which he had bought years before at Hokianga. This led to a league of the northern tribes, headed by the missionaries, which demanded British protection.

Next we hear of a French bishop setting up a mission at Hokianga, and a French syndicate buying land in Banks Peninsula, in 1838; while the English Land Company, started by Gibbon Wakefield, dispatched its first batch of colonists in the next year. As the result of these movements, the British Government was forced to take action, and the Governor of New South Wales promptly proclaimed our authority over the whole of New Zealand. His agent, Captain Hobson, concluded the Treaty of Waitangi, at the Bay of Islands, in 1840; by this agreement the native chiefs recognised British suzerainty. South Island was occupied just in time, as Hobson’s officers reached the Banks Peninsula only four days in advance of a French warship and party of French colonists. So that it was really France which hurried us on to the effective occupation of New Zealand.

The later history of our relations with the natives all hinges on the land question. The New Zealand Company, and many private speculators as well, bargaining through interpreters, believed that they had bought enormous areas of land for a mere nothing: the Maoris imagined that they had sold very little. Moreover, it was very doubtful who really had the power to sell the land, since the waste lands of the Maoris were all held in common. To settle the disputes the Home Government sent out a special Commissioner who decided that most of the bargains could not be allowed to stand. Even so the Maoris found it hard to appreciate our ideas as to sale and possession of land. There was endless trouble until Sir George Grey was sent over from South Australia in 1845, learnt the native language, and reduced both sides to order. For comparatively small sums he succeeded in buying gradually those parts of the country which were most essential to the white settlers, while leaving plenty for the support of the original inhabitants; for we must remember that the Maoris were very few in proportion to the area of the country. Grey was popular with the Maoris, and when he left, in 1855, the country was fairly well organised.

But the land question was not yet finally settled. In 1857, the Maoris tried to federate under a native king, the main object of the association being to oppose the further sale of land to the white settlers. The whole of Central Maoriland, east and west of Lake Taupo, was unfriendly to us. The trouble came to a head over a land claim in the Taranaki district, and the result was over ten years of raids and casual fighting which could hardly be called organised war, since it moved from district to district, and the different tribes had no common policy or unity. As the sections were subdued from time to time, the usual penalty inflicted was confiscation of land; so that by 1870 the whole of thecoast strip, from the north of Hawkes Bay round by Wellington to the Mokau River on the west, was in our possession. So, too, was all the land on both sides of the Lower Waikato, and a narrow fringe along the Bay of Plenty. Thus there was practically a ring fence put round Central Maoriland, and until quite recently there was no connexion between Wellington and Auckland across this isolated block. Sir George Grey, who had returned as Governor, in 1861, was largely responsible for laying down the lines on which the Maori problem was finally and successfully solved.

One interesting result of the war was that Wellington became the capital instead of Auckland. Auckland was the original settlement, moved from the Bay of Islands in 1842, and marked out by Hobson as the future capital. By its position it divided the tribes of the north from those of the south, and this was a great advantage in the early days of settlement. Port Nicholson, later Wellington, was founded in the same year by colonists of the New Zealand Company; while New Plymouth, in Taranaki, was settled in 1841. So we have three original and contemporary settlements, Hawkes Bay being split off from Wellington later. We have already seen a similar process in South Island. After 1865, the population of South Island increased very rapidly, until it exceeded that of North Island, while the Maoris in the latter were thought to be as numerous as the white people. It was inevitable that the capital should be brought nearer the centre of power of the white population, and so, in 1865, Wellington was chosen as the capital by a committee of Australians to which the question was referred.

We have seen the importance of the Taupo district in past history, and how throughout, as in South Island, the structure of the country has profoundly influenced its development and the relations of the settlers with the Maoris. If instead of travelling upthe trunk line of railway we had continued along the coast to New Plymouth, we should have realised the meaning of the purchase and confiscation of the narrow strip all round. We noticed before how the rivers radiate from the Taupo district in three directions to the sea; but in their upper courses they are of no use, since they flow between forest-clad hills, in deep gorges, where the stream is often broken by rapids,44such as we see here, on the Upper Waikato. The river up here does not seem to be of much value for navigation, and though the scenery is beautiful the river valley is not attractive to the settler. Lower down it is different.

We may reach the coast by following the line of the Wanganui, the most beautiful river in New Zealand. For scores of miles we rush down, in the little launch. In one reach the river is swift but smooth, running between sloping, densely forested banks; in another45steep fern-clad cliffs close in to form a gorge through which the water foams and swirls in rapids. Above,46we may catch sight of a Maori village; all the way down we meet canoes, slowly poling against the swift current; while lively parties of Maoris board us at every landing. Below Pipiriki the scenery changes, and near the sea we pass through open level country dotted with sheep and dairy farms, and these are steadily pushing the forest rim further back. Along the coast strip there is a whole string of small agricultural towns which suggest to us that the country round is of great value to the farmer. It is the same all the way to New Plymouth which lies under the shadow of Mount Egmont, a huge detached volcanic cone. Everywhere, in the clearings by the railway, are prosperous-looking dairy farms, the Taranaki district being specially famous for the quantity and quality of its dairy produce. Why is this so? The district is warm, it is also moist, as it lies on the west coast; infact Mount Egmont enjoys the heaviest rainfall in the whole island. Here is a farm in Taranaki with the47mountain in the distance, and here we have a near view of the great cone.48

The economic progress of North Island, so far as we have seen it, has consisted largely in the occupation49of the lowlands near the river mouths, and the gradual clearing of the forest further inland—a rather different forest from that of South Island, since the climate is warmer and drier. To open up the country for farming we had to reduce the hunting grounds of the Maori, and even to drain, in spite of his opposition, some of his favourite marshes. As a result of the settlement we find in the south-east, south and south-west, butter, wool, meat and timber produced in large quantities; while in the centre we have nothing but the scenery and some forest as yet untouched.

If we think of the products which are most valuable to New Zealand at the present day, we shall find that with the exception of timber they have been introduced from abroad by the white settlers and were unknown to the Maoris. But the marshland, dear to the Maori heart, produces one plant which was necessary to the natives in the past and is still very useful to us. This is the New Zealand flax, though it is more like hemp than the flax from which linen is made in the northern hemisphere. The Maoris wove the fibre of this plant into clothes. Here we see the long blade-like leaves50being cut in the swamp; we follow it to the mills where it is unloaded and sorted into lengths. Inside the mill it is put through various processes until the fibre finally appears as a rope or bale of fine white twine51ready for the market. In this form it is sent from the mill all over the world and commands prices as high as Manila hemp with which perhaps we are more familiar.

We will now leave the south and pay a short visitto the northern districts. Here the conditions are somewhat different. There is gold to be found at the base of the Coromandel Peninsula, and it is mined largely from the quartz rock, not merely washed from the alluvium as in South Island. This has led to the growth of a group of small mining towns. There is coal, too, in the basin of the Waikato and in the districts north of Auckland. The presence of these minerals in itself would lead us to expect a difference between the north and south of the island; but the difference extends further, to the vegetable products of the soil. We are moving out of the west wind region into the zone where, as in Victoria, the greater part of the rain falls in the mild winter, and the summer is dry and hot though tempered by the nearness of the sea. It is a land where the orange and the vine grow well, in great contrast to the cool and moist region in the south of South Island. Many people find the change from Auckland to Dunedin or Invercargill very trying to the constitution.

North Auckland has its forests, but they are different from those of the south, for here and here alone grows52the Kauri pine. Here is pictured the life of the tree. First we see it growing proudly in the forest; next53the lumbermen are at work on the huge trunk; finally the logs are hauled away, and at any of the little54ports of the peninsula we may see the timber ships loading; here, for instance, is a Norwegian sailing ship55taking in a cargo for Liverpool. The Kauri pine is responsible too for a curious local industry. The forests of the past have left masses of gum buried in the swamps, and many labourers are employed in spearing or digging for it. They become very expert in finding likely spots in which to probe. Here we have a group of Croatian diggers ready to set out for the day’s56work; notice the long slender spears which they carry and the great swamp saw for digging out thegum. We may see them scraping the gum and then follow them home in the evening over the desolate57plain to their primitive camp. It is a strange industry carried on by these foreigners, and the life seems hard, but the resin is one of the most useful for making our varnishes.

We have already noticed the great number of bays and inlets along the long northern neck of the island. In the far north is the Bay of Islands, the site of the58earliest settlement, represented now only by the small town of Russell. Fifty miles further south we have the deep inlet of Whangarei Harbour, where a port and a short railway line mark the presence of coal in the country behind. Finally, on Waitemata Harbour, a western arm of the wide Hauraki Gulf, stands Auckland,59the former capital and still the largest town in New Zealand. The population of the city with its suburbs is now over a hundred thousand. Only eight miles away by rail is Onehunga, on Manukau Harbour,60a gulf almost landlocked but opening into the waters of the Tasman Sea.

The best way to appreciate Auckland is to approach it from the sea. As we steam along the coast from the north, on our left is the curiously shaped Rangitoto Island, an extinct volcano; on our right is a long peninsula, with two low rounded hills, also volcanic, joined together by a low neck of land on which stands the suburb of Devonport. Across this neck we get a brief glimpse of the city standing on two groups of small hills with narrow valleys running down to the harbour between them. Then we turn round the North Head and suddenly the whole bay, two miles broad, opens out before us. On our left are the residential suburbs of Remuera and Parnell, with houses and gardens running down to the water’s edge; further up the bay is the main city with its long quays busy with traffic, and large steamers anchored in the deep channel.Beyond are more suburbs, and we can follow the winding inlet for fifteen miles through beautiful scenery which reminds us somewhat of Port Jackson. On the north side again another city is growing up, so that Auckland seems to be built round a great lake, open at the two ends. The air is clear and free from smoke and everywhere the sparkling blue water reflects the bright sunshine. Here we see Auckland, looking across the61water from Devonport, and here we look down on it from Mount Victoria.62

Auckland.

Auckland, for its beauty, has been styled the Naples of the South, and, like Naples, it has its volcanoes. We have noticed some of these already, and in the neighbouring country over sixty small cones, such as the one before us, can be counted within63a radius of ten miles. Even the hills on which the city stands are partly built up of volcanic debris. Fortunately for Auckland the volcanoes are no longer active, and it lacks also the picturesque dirt andsqualor of Naples. It is modern, clean and prosperous. It has also something more than beautiful scenery to recommend it. Though it suffered in some ways by the removal of the capital to Wellington, it is still, and is likely to remain the chief port-of-call in the Dominion. It is near to Sydney and is the natural centre for the trade of the neighbouring Pacific islands. It is the last port of departure for vessels sailing between Australia and America; and when the Panama Canal is finished, it will stand on the shortest route from the eastern United States to Sydney and Melbourne, and an alternative route to the Suez Canal for the United Kingdom and the whole of Western Europe. It is the chief link connecting New Zealand with the outer world, and a fit point of departure for our final cruise among the islands to the north.

We started our tour with the great continental land-mass of Australia; we shall end it with a visit to some of the many hundred scattered islands of the Pacific which are under British control and protection.1North-east from Auckland, for a thousand miles, we steam through the open ocean, sighting no land except perhaps the lonely Kermadec Islands, which are, as we have seen, attached to the Government of New Zealand, until we reach the fringe of the many groups of coral islands and reefs which fill so much of the Western Pacific. We shall touch first at Tonga Tabu, the southernmost and largest of the Friendly Islands, as Captain Cook called them, which lie just north of the Tropic of Capricorn and rather more than halfway round the globe eastward from London.

At Auckland we left behind us hills and fiords; on our right as we enter this group is the small but high volcanic island of Eua, the only one in the whole group which contains a river; the main island, Tonga Tabu, or Holy Tonga, lies on our left, and has a very different aspect. A low mass, green with what prove to be coconut palms, rises out of white surf and spray breaking over reefs of coral rock. We round a low headland and thread our way through winding channels among the reefs; on one side is the low mainland, on the other a string of green islets capping the reefs. After anchoring in the roadstead for a visit from the2doctor we are hauled alongside the little ferro-concretewharf. Beyond is a picturesque white town, Nukualofa,3the capital of the island.

At the wharf half the population seems to be gathered to meet us. Some are clothed, native fashion, in the famous Polynesian mats or in the bark-cloth calledtapa, or even in cotton; others are in European dress. The town with its white houses and verandas looks quite civilised. The inhabitants remind us of the New Zealand Maoris, though their colour is somewhat lighter; in fact, both peoples belong to the same great family, the Polynesians, or light-brown people of the Pacific, which is spread over many of the island groups which lie to the north-east and east of Tonga. It is this race which roused the admiration of early voyagers in these regions, both for its physical appearance and its character.

The Friendly Islands, though a British Protectorate, and, as regards all matters in which European interests are involved, under the jurisdiction of the High Commissioner of the Pacific, still have a native king and Parliament. The inhabitants are Christians, and are in a sense the most school-taught people in the Pacific. They seem to delight especially in mathematics and music, while shorthand is their usual method of writing. Tonga was the last of the independent kingdoms to come under European control. It was left to us as the result of our negotiations with Germany, at the end of the nineteenth century, and is now practically an integral part of our Empire in the Pacific. During the fifty years before we assumed control, it had made rather remarkable progress, under its native ruler, King George Tubou I., in the adoption, or perhaps the imitation, of Western ideas. This was largely due to the Wesleyan missionaries, and especially to the work of one missionary who occupied the post of Prime Minister.

We will now land and pay a call on the fatherof the present king. He receives us in civilised fashion4on the veranda of his house, but we notice that chairs are provided only for the guests; the rest sit on the ground in native fashion. A bowl ofkavais brewed for us by pounding, squeezing and straining out the juice of a root of a plant belonging to the family of the pepper-worts. It is the native substitute for alcohol, the use of which by any but white people is strictly forbidden in Tonga. Withoutkavadrinking, no social ceremony is considered complete, even to-day; and it has played an important part in the political and religious gatherings of the past.

Let us now look round the island. It is only about(2)thirty miles long and ten wide, shaped rather like the human foot, with two bays running far inland in the broadest part. The streets and the sea front of Nukualofa are mostly covered with short grass, and the town is partly hidden in the groves of coconut palms. It is the same all over the island. In the drier season we can follow broad grass tracks, for the most part running round the island; on both sides of us is a dense growth of palms, bananas, and tropical trees, such as we see in the picture before us. Everything is moist5and green and flat; yet, in Tonga Tabu, as in all the islands of this particular group, except Eua, we find no rivers, since the island is merely a block of coral rock, with a thin covering of rich soil, raised a few feet above the level of the sea. It is a form of coral island very common in this part of the Pacific.

We now leave Tonga Tabu for the northern islands of the group. Our decks are crowded with passengers. The natives are fond of travelling, and camp out on our vessel with a miscellaneous collection of luggage and food, including a number of pigs. We are bound for the Haapai Group, through a mass of small islets and foaming reefs; but away to the west rise several lofty volcanoes, some of which are still active. Weare touching here one of the great volcanic lines of the world, a line which we have already seen continued in New Zealand. Off one of these islands, Tofua, was the scene of the famous mutiny of theBounty.

We come to anchor on the leeward side of Haapai, at the one town, called Lifuka. There is no wharf here, and we lie a long way from the shore, as we see in this6picture. We may land in the launch or in one of the native boats which come out to meet us; and we can7survey the whole island in a short walk, as although it is five miles long it is less than two miles wide at the point where Lifuka stands. There is the same rich foliage and tropical fruit as in Tonga Tabu, but if we cross the island to the windward side we shall see a difference from our calm anchorage on the west. Here the south-east Trade Wind is blowing on-shore and the rollers are pounding incessantly and breaking8into surf against the coral rocks. It is a contrast which we find in most of the islands in this region.

We must hurry on to Vavau, the most northerly of the three main groups of the Friendly Islands. Here the main island is hilly, with high limestone cliffs and ridges. It is the top of a vast mass, heaved up by volcanic agency from the depths of the Pacific. So we have Vavau Sound, studded with islands and protected from the sea by cliffs and headlands running out on either hand. Here is a view of the Sound;9it may remind us perhaps of a Scottish loch, until we notice the coconut trees covering the hills and coming right down to the water’s edge. Gradually the Sound narrows, and after a rather abrupt turn we enter the landlocked harbour of Niafu, with its little wharf and10its group of houses buried in the trees. There are palms and bananas here as in the other islands, but Vavau is especially the home of the orange. The whole country round is a mass of orange trees, and the ripe fruit strews the grassy roads on which we walk.The picture is spoilt somewhat, especially near the town, by the style of the buildings. There is timber from New Zealand on the jetty, and the native grass and reed hut is giving place to the wooden house with galvanised iron roof, which is ugly and not well suited to the climate. The importance of Vavau lies in its deep and safe harbour, in a part of the world where such are somewhat rare.

Many of the islands of this part of the Pacific are often inaccessible, even for small vessels. Here we have an interesting method of landing on them; the figure11in the water is a native postman, who is swimming from our steamer to the island and carrying the mails sealed up in a water-tight can. The natives are fine swimmers and as much at home in the water as on the land.

From Vavau, we turn north-west, and after crossing about two hundred miles of open ocean reach the Lau Islands. These are the easternmost of the Fiji Islands and are, in Fiji, often spoken of as the Windward Islands. Here is one of the islands of this group: notice the white line of the fringing coral reef.12

In this part of our voyage we follow the course of the Trade Wind, as the Tongans have done for many generations, and the missionaries after them. As a consequence of the easy voyage down wind, the Tongans have had great influence on Fijian affairs in the past; they even established for themselves a kingdom, in the Lau Group, shortly before Fiji was taken over by Britain. Great navigators though they were, they had less skill than the Fijians in boat-building and carpentry; so they came to Fiji for their canoes. In Fiji canoe-building is a hereditary occupation. In former times they used great twin canoes, with a deck between; but now the usual form is a single canoe with raised sides and13a solid outrigger, and carrying mat sails. This canoe is capable of great speed, though it does not look very14safe. It is giving place now to boats of a European type.

The Fiji Islands, the most important group in this15part of the Pacific, are really the higher parts of a great bank in the ocean; the bank is fringed by reefs and coral islands, and in the middle is the Koro Sea, like a vast lagoon, with a wide opening to the south. On the western side of the bank are the islands of Viti Levu and Vanua Levu; these names, in the Fijian language, mean respectively the “Great Viti” and the “Great Land.” These two islands are by far the largest in the group. Both are volcanic, with high mountains and long rivers, and are quite different from the ordinary coral island.

We touch first at Ovalau, a small volcanic island eight miles by six. It lies some fifteen miles off the nearest point of Viti Levu, from which it is separated by shallow water much interrupted by reefs. Here is a view from our steamer of one end of Ovalau. We16are approaching Levuka town, which stands on a narrow strip of lowland hemmed in by a wall of17mountains. Levuka was one of the earliest settlements of the white traders, and at a later period was the capital of the group; but we can see that there is little room for expansion. So the capital has been transferred to Suva, on the southern side of Viti Levu, where the conditions are very different. Before leaving the island let us have a glimpse of the western side. Here we see a typical coast village; across the18narrow strait is another island, and beyond it in the distance rise the heights of the mainland.

On our way from Ovalau to Suva we pass near the tiny islet of Bau, which is so near the mainland of Viti Levu that we can walk almost dry-shod from one to the other at low tide. Bau, small as it is, was once the stronghold of the most powerful of the Fijian chiefs from which they long effectually resisted bothTongans and Europeans. The importance of Bau has departed, but its chiefs are still looked up to as the real aristocrats of the group, and their way of talking is the standard for classical Fijian.

After passing Bau and the wide mouth of the Rewa19River, we reach Suva, which lies on the margin of a wide bay almost enclosed by the protecting reef which we see in the foreground of the picture. Inside the reef is a spacious and safe anchorage for small or large vessels. Here is a panoramic view of the harbour;20and here are some native vessels; notice that their cargo consists of bananas. The houses are partly21hidden in the trees, so that the streets are very different from our own. Here is a street scene: notice that the women in the foreground are Hindus.22The Fijians are darker in colour than the Tongans, and many still retain their strange national habit of wearing their hair frizzed out in a huge mop. They differ from both of the two great races of this part of the Pacific, from the Friendly Islanders whom we saw to the east and from the Solomon Islanders whom we shall presently see to the west. In fact, the Fijians are almost certainly a mixture of these two races, with the addition of yet other strains.

We should expect that the mode of life and the history of the Fijians would differ from that of the inhabitants of the small coral islands, since they have for their home a comparatively large area of land with marked geographical peculiarities. Viti Levu is over23eighty miles from east to west and sixty from north to south. It is a land of mountain and river; whereas the ordinary coral island has no rivers worth the name. A range of rugged mountains runs along the northern coast, at no great distance from the sea, the highest point being Mount Victoria, which rises to 4500 feet. It is from this part of the island that the long rivers Rewa and Singatoka flow to thesouth-east, and a smaller stream, the Ba, to the north-west. The third largest river, the Navua, rises in other heights towards the south of the island, which we shall visit later. Here is a scene on the24Navua. The Rewa is long and winding, but it is navigable for shallow draught steamers for about forty miles from its mouth. The whole of the south-eastern part of the island is wet and was originally covered with forest; but the coast-lands to the north-west, under the lee of the mountain ridges, are drier and more open, as we may judge from this picture. We25can look across the forest, with its dense undergrowth of fern and creeper, and narrow trails along which we walk, and see in the distance the outlines of the jagged26mountains of old volcanic rock. There are no active volcanoes in the island, though hot springs in many parts show that volcanic activity is not yet entirely exhausted. Here are some of these springs.27

[Seepage 128.

[Seepage 131.

[Seepage 133.

Rivers have been an important element in the making of Fijian history, since it is in the fertile soil of the river deltas that the crops of the natives flourish best. Breadfruit and coconuts, together with the roots of the taro and the spindle-shaped yam form their principal food. The taro grows best in the wet districts, or where there is running water; so that the natives have long been familiar with simple methods of irrigation. These staple foods are supplemented by many kinds of wild tropical fruits and roots. The natives have pigs and fowls, but these are kept for state occasions; fish is the only usual non-vegetable food. The Fijians are clever fishermen, whether using the spear or arrow or net, or the fish-fences which they build in the estuaries of the rivers. In fact, the island provides them amply with all the food which they need, though sometimes there is a shortage as they lack means to preserve it. The taro and yams are stored in earth-covered heaps, as we store potatoes;and some of the vegetable food supply, especially breadfruit, is buried in pits and used in a partially fermented state. Here we have a formal presentation28of food, yams and turtle and theyangonaroot for making the native drink called hereyangonabut elsewherekava. It is a typical Fijian scene.

The native is content to cultivate his patch of land with simple implements, such as the digging stick, and is not anxious to work harder than is necessary for his own needs. He is not very ready to work for a European employer, while all his traditions, and the communal system under which he lives, make it impossible for the industrious individual to accumulate any private property.

The cultivation of produce for export is due to the initiative of Europeans, and is largely carried on by the East Indian immigrants who now form a very considerable element in the population. We have already noticed the Hindu women in the streets of Suva. For a few years, during the American Civil War, Fiji exported excellent cotton, but at the present day its export trade consists practically of sugar, copra or dried coconut, and bananas. The sugar-cane is a native of the wet and fertile lowlands of the deltas; but the cultivated kinds are mostly introduced from elsewhere. We find the cane fields covering much of the land along certain parts of the coast, and on the river deltas of Viti Levu and Vanua Levu; and these are connected by nearly two hundred miles of steam tramways, which carry the cane to the centrally placed mills. Here is a view across the Rewa, showing a29sugar mill; inside the ugly buildings we find the elaborate European machinery for extracting the juice30from the cane. Here again we are in the cane fields with Indian women at work. It is all unlike the native31agriculture, though it is very profitable to Fiji, since sugar is the most valuable of all its exports.

The coconut industry is far more picturesque; it is chiefly confined to the south side of Vanua Levu and to Taveuni and the other islands. The nut is grown for its kernel, which, when dried, is called copra, and yields the coconut oil which we use for various purposes. The tree grows everywhere in this region, but does not flourish in Viti Levu owing to an insect pest which seems peculiar to that island. The nut has always been much used by the natives for food, but it is now carefully cultivated for the production of copra. Here32is a plantation with the bungalow of the planter; notice the hills in the background; here again is a33tree carrying its fruit in curious clusters just below the crown of leaves. The natives, who are excellent climbers, swarm up the taller trees to gather34any fruit which is wanted in a not quite ripe state, as for eating or drinking; but the bulk of the nuts, intended for copra, are allowed to ripen on the tree until they drop off. The ripe nuts are then cut open,35the kernels extracted and dried in great trays and put into bags for shipment.

We will now leave the coast for a short trip inland, to see something of the country and the people in their more primitive condition and less mixed type. We travel up the Rewa river for about twenty miles, and there turn westward across country. We have left behind the steamer and the European trader and planter and plunge suddenly into a strange and wild world. At our first stopping place we are entertained with a display which reminds us that a very short time ago the Fijians were fierce fighters and cannibals. This is themekeor native war-dance and song, now only an interesting survival. First we see the dancers in the distance, entering the village in two lines. Their36faces are hideous with lampblack and vermilion, and they wear strange-looking dresses made of leaves. They go through many complicated evolutions. They rushtowards us, stabbing with their long spears and swinging their formidable clubs, and as suddenly rush away. They stamp and charge and shout and imitate all the movements of a battle. Finally they subside quietly.37The women also have their special dance, of which we have here a picture. The war-dance is now only a38game, but it was far different before our occupation of the islands. Though we still utilise the old tribal organisation, and govern them through their native chiefs and councils, we have forced the Fijians to understand that fighting, raids and massacres are an amusement no longer permitted. The constabulary,39which we see here with their rifles and maxim guns, serve generally only in the coast regions, where they represent a form of law and order which the Fijians readily understand; but even in the interior certain Fijians, less formally organised into a sort of rural police, keep effective order. Our little trip might not have been so safe or pleasant forty years ago.

We now leave the Rewa and strike across country south-westward. Our road is a mere track, and often we find streams to be crossed but no bridges to help us. To our carriers this does not matter, as they are not overburdened with clothes. They plunge in and40wade through the shallows, and they will carry us if necessary. On the wider streams canoes must be used, or a bamboo raft lashed roughly together. We may notice that our carriers have slung our baggage on poles carried on the shoulders of one or two men; this is the regular native means of transport, for carts are only used near the plantations, and by Europeans, where roads are available. In the old time the women would have carried the burdens, as it was thought beneath the dignity of a man to carry anything but his weapons.

Presently we reach a village where we discover an interesting native industry, the making of mats from41a kind of reed. Here we see girls at work weaving the mats, and in one of the native huts they are making baskets from the same material. The Fijians are clever at this work, and both mats and baskets are important articles in their daily life. They also used to make a peculiar but very artistic pottery, such as we do not find in the islands of Polynesia further east; but this42art is no longer practised except in a few places, and for the production of pots for domestic use.

Perhaps the most noteworthy native manufacture is that oftapacloth for their dress.Tapais made by beating out the fibrous bark of the paper mulberry, and sometimes of certain other trees. The art is known in Polynesia generally, and the Fijians, like many of the other islanders, also print the cloth in various patterns and colours.

We continue our march, passing many villages. Here is a corner in one of them; notice the native huts43of grass and reeds, very different from the wood and corrugated iron of Suva. Notice, too, the coconut palms growing all around. Here again we have a44more elaborately finished house, in the old style; and here is the interior of the home of a chief; it looks45somewhat unfurnished to our eyes, though it is cool and airy. At the next village the natives receive us with a solemn presentation of food andyangonain a rather dark hut. Here they are making theyangona.46Finally we reach Namosi, a picturesque native town perched up in the mountains. The town lies in a kind of pass between steep rocks, the “Gate of Namosi,” as47we see in the picture. The inhabitants are summoned together by the beating of the town drum, a hollow log of wood, and receive us sitting on the ground beneath48an ancient tree. We have reached the limit of our journey; but short though it is, it has given us some idea of the real Fijian as he is to-day, away from direct European influence.

The conditions in the other large island, Vanua Levu, are much the same as in Viti Levu. The island is long and narrow, but with the same irregular mountain structure, the same vegetation and the same contrast of wet and dry on the opposite coasts. We may remember that Ovalau, off the coast of Viti Levu, was much concerned in the past with the politics of the neighbouring mainland; the same was true of Taveuni off Vanua Levu. The dwellers on the rich coastlands of the larger islands led a very uncertain life between the raiders from the sea and the wild tribes of the interior. The sea was always the more important factor in the life of the whole group of islands; it united, while the land more often divided. We have already noted its importance in the relations of Fiji and the Friendly Islands.

Before we leave Fiji it is interesting to note that the line which divides East from West passes through this group, cutting the island of Taveuni into two; so that in one part of Taveuni we can stand with one foot in the East and the other in the West, or in other words, one foot may be in a place nearly twenty-four hours ahead of that occupied by the other according to Greenwich Time.

The Fiji Islands are governed as a Crown Colony—the only Colony so governed in the Pacific; and hitherto the Governor of that Colony has also been High Commissioner for the Western Pacific, that is to say, he has been in charge of most of the scattered islands in the Pacific which are more or less under British protection. We have already visited one of his charges, the Friendly or Tongan Islands. The number of these islands under the High Commissioner is very great, but unfortunately there is no regular means of communication between Fiji and most of them. Every month a steamer starts from Auckland, calls at Tonga Tabu, Haapai and Vavau, and then goes on to Levuka andSuva, exactly along the route which we have followed. But from Suva this steamer goes on to Sydney in Australia. Once a month, too, a steamer starts from Sydney, along the same route but in the reverse direction, to Auckland. With none of the other islands is there any direct means of communication; and when the High Commissioner wishes to visit them he must go round in a warship. We will accompany him on one of these tours, in order to see something of the other British islands.

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