Chapter 19

CHAPTER VIIGOOD-BYE TO DINAWA

CHAPTER VII

GOOD-BYE TO DINAWA

Among the scientific specimens I brought back to Dinawa was a newphallonopsiswhich I had discovered 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 2½ 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.

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 consumed, 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. Occasionally they would try to catch a pig in their corrals.

NATIVE WOMEN AT DINAWA.The background is the roof and side of the author’s house.

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 Æsculapian 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 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 Catholic 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 intercommunication 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 himself very well, as the days went on, and our departure was approaching, we felt that we should like to have tidings of him.

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 preparations for breaking up the camp, and, of course, our chief care was our collections.

THE WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY OF NEW GUINEA.The natives shout their news from hill-top to hill-top, thus conveying it with amazing rapidity.

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, the antennæ 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 forheterocera. There was another reason why this news was encouraging, andthat 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 approaching 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 expectation. 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 longtails. Gaberio’s news, however, was not all good, for he had to report that one of his boys had been murdered. 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 theriver, 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, whohad 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 longing. 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 uncommon in the island. From these foot-hills there rose continually into the clear air countless columns of pale blue smoke, telling of a numerous population. 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 araucarias, of which I obtained some specimens from Sam, 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.

NATIVES OF ENUMAKA IN THE OWEN STANLEY RANGE.

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,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 neighbours, 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 consent 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.

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 monotony 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 ofsetting 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 nonchalance, “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 without mentioning what was perhaps the greatest of its natural attractions—the almost overpowering magnificence 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 sparkling 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.

VEGETATION AT DINAWA.Some of the tree ferns grow to a height of 40 feet.

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, little help was to be expected. The fittest of the men were abroad in the forest on foraging expeditions, 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 inadequate. 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 Kea-ka-mana, Kea-ka-mana 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 afternoon 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 undermanned, and decided to start with only half the baggage, leaving Gaberio behind to see to the despatch of the other half when the bearers should besent back. On September 23, at 9A.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 7P.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 Oo-fa-fa, 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.

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