Chapter 11

CHAPTER IIICHANGES AND STRANGE SCENES

CHAPTER III

CHANGES AND STRANGE SCENES

While I lay at Merauke on board theVan Doorn, the steamshipMoresbywas 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 theVan Doorn, and in due course we weighed anchor for Thursday Island, at which the steamer was to touch on her voyage. TheMoresbycould 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 theMoresbywe 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 forthe 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 emerald green and silver, deep blue varied with light yellow and brown, 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 miles 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 Island, but the heat is tempered by the most delightful 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.

MY CINGALESE LIEUTENANT, SAM, AND HIS WIFE AT THEIR HOME IN PORT MORESBY.

As we approached the coast we found that it presented 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 unmistakable 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 parasites 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 thenavigator 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 comfortable 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 uncomplaining, after the manner of Britons.

Clustered about the Government buildings are various other buildings—the jail, which more resembles 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 thelakatoisor huge sailing rafts, laden with pottery for trade in the western part of the possession.

Those who are familiar with the postage-stamp ofBritish New Guinea must, no doubt, have often wondered 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 appearance of the vessel is one that arouses curiosity. This is thelakatoi, the remarkable trading vessel of the hereditary potters of Hanuabada, a little village not far from Port Moresby. The hamlet, with its neighbour, Elevada, is built partly on land and partly on piles in the water; but while the land part of Hanuabada 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 structures 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-outcanoes, and a very charming feature of the village is its crowd of children, playing with toylakatois. 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 possible 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 longramisor 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 picturesque 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 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.

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.

There is a distinct organisation of labour among the potters, the women being divided into “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 disposal 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 organisation on the part of an utterly savage people has beenin 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, thelakatois. 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 cutting 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 platform, extending about six feet from bow and stern, and on the whole of the intervening space houses are erected in skeleton bamboo framework. These canbe 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 thelakatoiis 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 thelakatoiare 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. Thelakatoiis 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 decorations, and the fleet of eight or tenlakatoisnow 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 somelakatoisfrom othervillages. 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, stretching 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 thelakatois, clumsy although they appear, are quick “in stays.”

GIRLS DANCING ON A LAKATOI (A RAFT OF CANOES).

At last comes the day when the Hanuabada people say, “If the wind is favourable, we will start tomorrow.” 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 artistically with finely woven garlands that lie in close cinctures round their brows. In most ravishingramisthey 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 apremière danseuseto 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 annexed 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 greatlakatoisslowly get under way, the girls crowd upon the beach, shouting 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 everylakatoiweathers the sudden treacherous squalls and storms of the Papuan coast.

Their captains, of course, have no knowledge whateverof 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 desolate 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 expedition 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 difficulty; 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,2000 lbs., and it consisted first and foremost of what is technically known as “trade,” that is, beads, axes, 18–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.

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