Chapter XV

Chapter XVTannaOf the larger inhabited islands of the New Hebrides, only Tanna remained to be visited. Instead of stopping at Vila, I went on to White Sands, Tanna, where the Rev. M. was stationed. The large island of Erromanga has but little native population, and that is all christianized; the same is true of the smaller islands of Aneityum, Aniwa and Futuna. I preferred to study Tanna, as it is characteristic of all the southern part of the archipelago. The population is quite different from that in the north, and one would call it Polynesian, were it not for the curly hair which shows Melanesian admixture. Light-coloured, tall, strong, with the fleshy body that is often a feature of the Polynesian, the people have, not infrequently, fine open features, small noses and intelligent faces of oval outline. They are more energetic, warlike and independent than those up north, and their mode of life is different, the Suque and everything connected with it being entirely absent. Instead, we find hereditary chieftainship, as in all Polynesia, and the chiefs are held in the highest veneration by their subjects. This state of things was greatly to the advantage of the missions, as the chiefs, even if converted, retainedtheir authority, whereas in the north the high castes, on their conversion, lost all influence and position, as these only depended on the Suque. The brilliant results of the missions in Tanna are due, apart from the splendid work of the two Presbyterian missionaries, chiefly to this fact. If the missionaries and the authorities would join forces for the preservation of the native race, great good might be done. Intelligent efforts along this line ought to comprise the following features: revival of the wish to live and the belief in a future for the race, increase in the birth-rate, rational distribution of the women, abolition of the present recruiting system, compulsory medical treatment, creation of law and order, and restoration of old customs as to daily life and food.MEN FROM TANNA.MEN FROM TANNA.The houses on Tanna are poor huts of reed-grass, probably because the perpetual wars discouraged the people from building good dwellings. The principal weapons are the spear and club, the arrow, as elsewhere in Polynesia, playing a subordinate part. A weapon which is probably peculiar to Tanna are throwing-stones, carefully made stone cylinders, which were hurled in battle. If a man had not time to procure one of these granite cylinders, a branch of coral or a slab of stone, hewn into serviceable shape, would serve his turn; and these instruments are not very different from our oldest prehistoric stone implements.Quite a Polynesian art is the manufacture of tapa: bark cloth. The Tannese do not know howto make large pieces, but are satisfied with narrow strips, used as belts by the men, and prettily painted in black and red.WOMEN FROM TANNA.WOMEN FROM TANNA.The dress of the men is similar to that of Malekula, that of the women consists of an apron of grass and straw; and they often wear a hat of banana leaves, while the men affect a very complicated coiffure. The hair is divided into strands, each of which is wound with a fibre from the head out. A man may have several hundred of these ropes on his head all tied together behind, giving a somewhat womanish appearance. It takes a long time to dress the hair thus, and the custom is falling into disuse.On the whole, the culture of the Tannese is low; there is no braiding or carving, and the ornaments worn consist only of a few bracelets and necklaces, with an occasional nose-stick; the only conspicuous feature are ear-rings of tortoise-shell, of which as many as a dozen may hang in one ear.On the other side of Tanna is Lenakel, where the Rev. W. was working with admirable devotion and success in a hospital. I crossed the island several times, and enjoyed the delightful rides through the shady forest, on very good bridle-paths the natives had made.Tanna’s most striking sight is its volcano; there is hardly another in the world so easily accessible; for in half an hour from the shore its foot may be reached, and in another half-hour one is at the top. It is about 260 m. high, a miniature volcano, withall its accessories complete, hot springs, lake, desert, etc., always active, rarely destructive, looking like an overgrown molehill. A wide plain stretches inland, utterly deserted owing to the poisonous vapours always carried across it by the south-east trade-wind, and in the centre of the plain is a sweet-water lake.I climbed the volcano for the first time on a rainy day. On top, I suddenly found myself at the end of the world; it was the edge of the crater, completely filled with steam. As I walked along the precipice, such an infernal thundering began just under my feet as it seemed, that I thought best to retire. My next ascent took place on a clear, bright day; but the wind drove sand and ashes along the desert, and dimmed the sunshine to a yellowish gloomy light. I traversed the desert to the foot of the crater, where the cone rose gradually out of brownish sand, in a beautiful curve, to an angle of 45°. The lack of all vegetation or other point of comparison made it impossible to judge whether the mountain was 100 or 1000 m. high. The silence was oppressive, and sand columns danced and whirled up and down, to and fro, like goblins. A smell of sulphur was in the air, the heat was torturing, the ground burnt one’s feet, and the climb in the loose sand was trying. But farther up the sea-breeze cooled the air deliciously, and stone blocks afforded a foothold. Soon I was on top, and the sight I saw seemed one that only the fancy of a morbid, melancholy genius could have invented, an uglyfever dream turned real, and no description could do it justice.In front of me the ground fell down steeply, and the torn sides of the crater formed a funnel-shaped cavity, a dark, yawning depth. There were jagged rocks, fantastic, wild ridges, crevices, fearful depths, from which issued steam and smoke. Poisonous vapour poured out of the rocks in white and brownish clouds that waved to and fro, slowly rising, until a breeze caught and carried them away. The sight alone would suffice to inspire terror, without the oppressive smoke and the uncanny noise far down in the depths. Dull and regular, it sounded like the piston of an engine or a great drum, heard through the noises of a factory. Presently there was silence, and then, without any warning, came a tearing crack, the thunder as of 100 heavy guns, a metallic din, and a cloud of smoke rose; and while we forced ourselves to stay and watch, the inferno below thundered a roaring echo, the walls shook, and a thousand dark specks flew up like a swarm of frightened birds. They were lava blocks, and they fell back from the height of the crater, rattling on the rocks, or were swallowed up by the invisible gorge. Then a thick cloud surrounded everything, and we realized that our post at the mouth of the crater, on an overhanging ridge, was dangerous; indeed, a part of the edge, not far off, broke down and was lost in the depths. Another and another explosion followed; but when we turned, we overlooked a peaceful landscape, green forests, palmsbending over the bright blue water, and far off the islands of Erromanga, Futuna and Aniwa.A visit to the volcano at night was a unique experience. Across the desert the darkness glided, and as we climbed upward, we felt and heard the metallic explosions through the flanks of the mountain, and the cloud over the crater shone in dull red. Cautiously we approached the edge, just near enough to look down. The bottom of the crater seemed lifted, the walls were almost invisible, and the uncertain glare played lightly over some theatrical-looking rocks. We could see three orifices; steam poured out of one, in the other the liquid lava boiled and bubbled, of the third there was nothing to be seen but a glow; but underneath this some force was at work. Did we hear or feel it? We were not sure; sometimes it sounded like shrill cries of despair, sometimes all was still, and the rocks seemed to shake. Then suddenly it boiled up, hissing as if a thousand steam-pipes had burst, something unspeakable seemed preparing, yet nothing happened. Some lava lumps were thrown out, to fall back or stick to the rocks, where they slowly died out. All at once a sheaf of fire shot up, tall and glowing, an explosion of incredible fury followed; the sheaf dispersed and fell down in marvellous fireworks and thousands of sparks. Slowly, in a fiery stream the lava flowed back to the bottom. Then another explosion and another, the thumping increased, one of the other openings worked, spitting viciously in all directions, the noise became unbearable. All one’s senses were affected, for the din was tooviolent to touch one’s hearing only. Then there was silence; the cloud rose, and beside it we saw the stars in the pure sky, and heard the surf beat peacefully, consolingly, as if there were no volcano and no glowing lava anywhere near.While we were standing on the brink as if fascinated, the silver moon rose behind us, spread a broad road of light on the quiet sea, played round us with her cool light, shone on the opposite wall of the crater, and caressed the sulphurous cloud. It was a magical sight, the contrast of the pure moonlight and the dirty glare of the volcano; an effect indescribably grand and peculiar, a gala performance of nature, the elements of heaven and hell side by side.At last we left. Behind and above us thundered the volcano, below us lay the desert, silvery in the moonlight, in quiet, simple lines; far away rolled the sea, and in the silence the moon rose higher and higher, and our shadows followed us as we traversed the plain and gained the friendly shade of the palm grove.Chapter XVIThe Santa Cruz IslandsAfter my return to Port Vila, where I again had the honour of being Mr. King’s guest, and having practically finished my task in the New Hebrides, I decided not to leave this part of the world without visiting the Santa Cruz Islands, a group of small islands north of the New Hebrides and east of the Solomon Islands. This archipelago has not had much contact with civilization, and is little known. I had a good opportunity to go there, as the steam yachtSouthern Crossof the Anglican mission in Melanesia was expected to stop at Vila on her way to the Solomons. She touched at the Santa Cruz island of Nitendi going and returning, and could therefore drop me and take me up again after about six weeks. While waiting for her arrival, I investigated some caves on Leleppa, near Port Havannah, which the natives reported to be inhabited by dwarfish men; but the results were insignificant.CANOE FROM NITENDI.CANOE FROM NITENDI.Passage having been granted me by the skipper of theSouthern Cross, I once more sailed the well-known route northward through the New Hebrides and Banks Islands; but from Ureparapara onward I was in strange waters. TheSouthern Crosswas a steamer of about five hundred tons, built especiallyfor this service, that is, to convey the missionaries and natives from the headquarters on Norfolk Island to the different islands. Life on board was far from luxurious; but there was good company and an interesting library. I had the pleasure of making some interesting acquaintances, and the missionaries gave me much valuable information about the natives and their customs. When the tone of the conversation in the evening threatened to become too serious, our jovial Captain S. speedily improved matters by his grotesquely comical sallies. A strenuous life was that of the missionary who was responsible for the organization of the voyage; he had to visit the native communities, and went ashore at every anchorage, sometimes through an ugly surf or dangerous shoals, generally with overcrowded whale-boats; and this went on for three months. I had nothing to do, and amused myself by comparing the boys from the various islands, who were quite different in looks, speech and character. There were the short, thick-set, plebeian natives from the New Hebrides, the well-built men from the Solomons, with their long faces and open, energetic expression, the languid, sleepy boys from the Torres Islands and the savage Santa Cruzians.The trip of theSouthern Crosswas important as an experiment, being the first with an exclusively native crew. Hitherto the Melanesians had been considered incapable of any work calling for energy, initiative and conscientiousness. Captain C. was convinced that this was unjust, and started on thisvoyage without any whites except the officers; the result was most satisfactory. The natives, when carefully and patiently trained, work quite as well as low-class whites, and have proved themselves capable of more than plantation work.MAN FROM NITENDI, SHOOTING.MAN FROM NITENDI, SHOOTING.It was a bright morning when we entered the lovely Graciosa Bay on Nitendi. The island had a much more tropical aspect than those of the New Hebrides, and the vegetation seemed more varied and gayer in colour. Natives in canoes approached from every side, and all along the beach lay populous villages, a sight such as the now deserted shores of the New Hebrides must have afforded in days gone by. Hardly had we cast anchor when the ship was surrounded by innumerable canoes. The men in them were all naked, except the teachers the missionaries had stationed here; all the others were genuine aborigines, who managed their boats admirably, and came hurrying on board, eager to begin bartering.The natives here have a bad reputation, and are supposed to be particularly dangerous, because they never stir from home without their poisoned arrows. A missionary had recently been forced to leave the island, after having been besieged by the natives for several days. But it would seem that they are not hostile unless one of their many intricate laws and customs is violated, which may happen easily enough to anyone unacquainted with their habits.I took up my quarters with the only white man in the place, a Mr. M., who managed a cocoa-nut plantation for an Australian company with boys from theSolomons. My first task was to find servants, as none had dared accompany me from the New Hebrides to the ill-famed Santa Cruz Islands. Through his coprah trade Mr. M. knew the people well, and by his help I soon found two boys who had some vague notion of biche la mar, real savages, who served me well in a childish, playful way. They were always jolly, and although they seemed to look upon what they did for me rather as a kindness than a duty, we got along fairly well. When it became known that my service implied good food and little work, many others applied, but I only chose one young fellow, probably the most perfect specimen of a man I have ever seen. He kept himself scrupulously clean, and in his quiet, even behaviour there was something that distinguished him from all the rest. It is difficult to put the beauty of a human body into words; I can only say that he was of symmetrical build, with a deep chest and well-developed limbs, but without the great muscles that would have given him the coarse aspect of an athlete. His greatest charm was in the grace of his movements and the natural nobility of his attitudes and his walk; for he moved as lightly and daintily as a deer, and it was a constant pleasure, while walking behind him during our marches through the forest, to admire his elastic gait, the play of his muscles and the elegant ease with which he threaded the thicket. I tried to take some photographs of him, but without great success, owing to technical difficulties; besides, the face had to be hidden as much as possible, as to aEuropean eye the natives’ faces often seem to have a brutal expression. The men of Santa Cruz, too, wear disfiguring nose-rings of tortoise-shell hanging down over their mouths, so large that when eating they have to be lifted up out of the way with the left hand. Another ugly habit is the chewing of betel, the nut of the areca palm, which is mixed with pepper leaves and lime. The lime is carried in a gourd, often decorated with drawings and provided with an artistically carved stopper. The leaves and this bottle are kept in beautifully woven baskets, the prettiest products of native art, made of banana fibre interwoven with delicate designs in black. Betel-chewing seems to have a slightly intoxicating effect; my boys, at least, were often strangely exhilarated in the evening, although they had certainly had no liquor. The lime forms a black deposit on the teeth, which sometimes grows to such a size as to hang out of the mouth, an appendage of which some natives seem rather vain.The dress of the men consists of a narrow belt of bark and a strip of tapa worn between the legs. Around their knees and ankles they wear small, shiny shells, and on their chests a large circular plate of tridacna-shell, to which is attached a dainty bit of carved tortoise-shell representing a combination of fish and turtle. This beautiful ornament is very effective on the dark skin. In the lobes of the ears are hung large tortoise-shell ornaments, and on the arms large shell rings or bracelets braided with shell and cocoa-nut beads are worn.The men are never seen without bows and arrows of large and heavy dimensions. Like all the belongings of the Santa Cruzians, the arrows show artistic taste, being carefully carved and painted so as to display black carving on a white and red ground. The points of the arrows are made of human bone.I bought one of the excellent canoes made by these people, and often crossed the lovely, quiet bay to visit different villages. The natives take great care of their canoes, and make it a point of honour to keep them spotlessly white, which they do by rubbing them with a seaweed they gather at the bottom of the ocean.On approaching a village it requires all the skill of the native not to be dashed by the swell against the reefs. A narrow sandy beach lies behind, and then a stone terrace 6 feet high, on which the gamal is built. Generally there was great excitement when I landed, and the men came rushing from all sides to see me. They were not hostile, only too eager for trade, and I had to interrupt my visits for a week and trade only at the house where I was staying, so as to give them time to quiet down. This helped matters a little, although, until the day I left, I was always the centre of an excited mob that pulled at my sleeves and trousers and shrieked into my ears. I was always cordially invited to enter the gamals; these were square houses, kept very clean, with a fireplace in the centre, and the floor covered with mats. As usual, the roof wasfull of implements of all sorts, and over the fire there was a stand and shelves, where coprah was roasted and food preserved.The natives are expert fishermen, and know how to make the finest as well as the coarsest nets. They frequently spend the mornings fishing, a flotilla of canoes gathering at some shallow spot in the bay.The afternoons are mostly spent in the village in adolce far niente. Each village has its special industry: in one the arm-rings of shell are made, in another the breastplates, in a third canoes, or the fine mats which are woven on a loom of the simplest system, very similar to a type of loom found in North America. Weaving, it will be remembered, is quite unknown in the New Hebrides.An object peculiar to these islands is feather money. This consists of the fine breast-feathers of a small bird, stuck together to form plates, which are fastened on a strip of sinnet, so that a long ribbon of scarlet feathers is obtained of beautiful colour and brilliancy. These strips are rolled and preserved in the houses, carefully wrapped up and only displayed on great occasions. Considering how few available feathers one little bird yields, and how many are needed for one roll, it is not surprising that this feather money is very valuable, and that a single roll will buy a woman. At great dances the circular dancing-grounds along the shore are decorated with these ribbons.For a dance the men exchange the nose-ringof tortoise-shell for a large, finely carved plate of mother-of-pearl. In the perforated sides of the nose they place thin sticks, which stand high up towards the eyes. In the hair they wear sticks and small boards covered with the same feathers as those used for feather money. They have dancing-sticks of a most elaborate description, heavy wooden clubs of the shape of a canoe, painted in delicate designs and with rattles at the lower end. The designs are black and red on a white ground, and are derived from shapes of fish and birds. Similar work is done on carvings showing the different species of fish and birds; the drawing is exquisite, and shows fine feeling for ornamental composition.MAN FROM NITENDI, WITH PEARL SHELL NOSE ORNAMENT FOR DANCING.MAN FROM NITENDI, WITH PEARL SHELL NOSE ORNAMENT FOR DANCING.The position of women in Santa Cruz is peculiar, although the Suque does not exist, and therefore no separation of fires is enforced. Masculine jealousy seems to have reached its climax here, for no man from another village even dares look at a woman. The women’s houses are a little inland, away from the gamal and separated by high walls from the outer world. Most of the houses are square, but there are some circular ones, a type very rare in these regions. To my regret I was never able to examine one of these round houses, so that I have no idea how they are built. To enter the women’s quarters, or to approach nearer than 100 mètres to any woman, is a deadly offence, and such breaches of etiquette are the cause of frequent feuds. Only once I was taken by one of my boys through the lanes of his village, and thiswas considered very daring, and the limit of permissible investigation. However, with the help of Mr. M., who was practically a “citizen” of one of the villages, I succeeded in taking some photographs of women; but only the oldest dowagers and some sick girls presented themselves, and among them I saw the most repulsive being I ever met,—an old shrivelled-up hag. At sight of such a creature one cannot wonder that old women were often accused of sorcery.It is surprising how much inferior physically the women of Nitendi are to the men. The men are among the best made people I ever saw, while the women are the poorest. The dress of the women consists of large pieces of tapa, worn around the hips and over the head, and a third piece is sometimes used as a shawl. Tapa is not made at Graciosa Bay, but inland; it is often painted in simple but effective geometrical designs.The majority of the population lives near the sea; I was credibly informed that there are hardly any people inland. The Santa Cruzian is a “salt-water man,” and there is a string of villages all along the coast. The inhabitants of the different villages keep very much to themselves, and their territories are separated by a strip of forest, and on the shore by high stone walls leading far out into the sea. On the whole, the two thousand people in the bay live very quietly, certainly more so than the same number of whites would without any police. It is not quite clear in what respect our civilization couldimprove them, as, like most aborigines, they have a pronounced sense of propriety, justice and politeness. There is very little disputing or quarrelling, and differences of opinion are usually settled by a joke, so that in this respect the savages show a behaviour far superior to that of many a roaring and swearing white.I found neither drums nor statues here, and of the local religion I could learn nothing. There is a skull-cult, similar to that on Malekula: a man will paint the skull of a favourite wife or child yellow, shut all the openings with wooden stoppers and carry the relic about with him. Towards the end of my stay I obtained possession of some of these interesting skulls. The idea in shutting the holes is doubtless to preserve the spirit of the dead inside the skull.One evening I crossed the bay to attend a dance. The starless sky shone feebly, spotted with dark, torn clouds. A dull silver light lay on the sea, which was scarcely lighter than the steep shores. In the silence the strokes of our oars sounded sharp and energetic, yet they seemed to come from a distance. In the darkness we felt first the outrigger, then the canoe, lifted by a heavy swell, which glided away out of sight in monotonous rhythm. Then light began to play around us, indistinct at first, then two silver stripes formed at the bow and ran along the boat. They were surrounded by bright, whirling sparks, and at the bow of the outrigger the gayest fireworks of silver light sprang up, sparkling and dying awayas if the boat had been a meteor. The oars, too, dripped light, as though they were bringing up fine silver dust from below. The naked boy in front of me shone like a marble statue on a dark background as his beautiful body worked in rhythmic movements, the light playing to and fro on his back. And ever the sparks danced along the boat in hypnotizing confusion, and mighty harmonies seemed to echo through the night air. The feeling of time was lost, until the opposite shore rose to a black wall, then, through the silence, we heard the cold rush of the surf beating moodily on the reef. We slackened speed, the fairy light died and the dream ended. We kept along the shore, looking for the entrance, which the boys found by feeling for a well-known rock with their oars. A wave lifted us, the boys bent to their oars with all their might, we shot across the reef and ran into the soft sand of the beach.MAN FROM TUCOPIA WITH TAPA DRESS.MAN FROM TUCOPIA WITH TAPA DRESS.But as the rain fell now in torrents, there was no dance that night.Mr. M. and I attempted a few excursions, but bad weather interfered with our plans, and a rainy period of three weeks followed. One squall chased the other, rattling on the roof, forming swamps everywhere, and penetrating everything with moisture. I was glad when theSouthern Crosscame back for me, especially as this was to be the beginning of my homeward journey.This time we touched at a small island called Tucopia, where a primitive Polynesian population still exists, probably the only island where this is thecase. When the steamer approached we saw the people running about on the reef in excitement, and soon countless canoes surrounded us. The appearance of these islanders was quite new to me. Instead of the dark, curly-haired, short Melanesians, I saw tall, light-coloured men with thick manes of long, golden hair. They climbed aboard, wonderful giants, with soft, dark eyes, kind smiles and childlike manners. They went everywhere, touched everything, and flattered and caressed us. We were all eager to go ashore, and at the edge of the reef an excited crowd awaited our arrival impatiently and pulled our boat violently on the rocks in their eagerness. Two tall fellows grabbed me under the arms, and, willy-nilly, I was carried across the reef and carefully deposited under a shady tree on the beach. At first I did not quite trust my companions, but I was powerless to resist, and soon I became more confident, as my new friends constantly hugged and stroked me. Soon a missionary was brought ashore in the same way, and then, to our greatest surprise, a man approached us who spoke biche la mar. He asked if we had no sickness on board, for some time ago the same ship had infected the island with an epidemic that had caused many deaths. We assured him that we had none, and he gave us permission to visit the island, telling us, too, that we were to have the great honour of being presented to one of the four chiefs. This was indeed something to be proud of, for in Polynesian islands the chieftainship, as I have said, is hereditary, and the chiefs arepaid honours almost divine. We took off our hats and were led before the chief, a tall, stout man, who sat in a circle of men on a sort of throne, with his ceremonial spear leaning against a tree beside him. His subjects approached him crouching, but he shook hands with us and smiled kindly at us. A noble gesture of the hand gave us leave to taste a meal prepared to welcome us, which looked most uninviting, but turned out to be beautifully cooked sago and cocoa-nut cream. We could not finish the generous portions, and presently signed that we were satisfied; the chief seemed to regret that we did not do more honour to his hospitality, but he gave us permission to walk about. While all the other natives ran about in great excitement over our visit, the good old man sat on his throne all the time, quite solemnly, although I am convinced that he was fairly bursting with curiosity. We hurried through the village, so as to get a general idea of the houses and implements, and then to the beach, which was a beautiful sight. Whereas on Melanesian islands the dancing-grounds only are kept cleared, and surrounded by thick shrubbery for fear of invasion, here all the underbrush had been rooted out, and the shore was like a park, with a splendid view through dark tree-trunks across the blue sea, while the golden, godlike forms of the natives walked about with proud, regal gait, or stood in animated groups. It was a sight so different in its peaceful simplicity from what I was accustomed to see in Melanesia, it all looked so happy, gay and alluring that it hardly needed the invitations of thekind people, without weapons or suspicion, and with wreaths of sweet-scented flowers around their heads and bodies, to incline us to stay. Truly, the sailors of old were not to blame if they deserted in numbers on such islands, and preferred the careless native life to hard work on board a whaler. Again and again I seemed to see the living originals of some classical picture, and more and more my soul succumbed to the intoxicating charm of the lovely island.But we could not stay; the steamer whistled, and we had to leave. A young native was going to Norfolk Island, and he took leave of his family and the chief in a manly way which was touching to witness. He bowed and laid his face on the knees of some old white-haired men with finely chiselled, noble faces. They seemed to bless him, then they raised his head and tenderly pressed their faces against his, so that their noses touched. The boy brushed away a tear and then jumped bravely on board.When we came on board, the steamer was crowded with natives, and they refused to leave. We had to drive them away energetically, and as their canoes were soon overcrowded, many of them jumped into the water with shouts and laughter, and swam several miles to the shore, floating happily in the blue sea, with their long hair waving after them like liquid gold. Thus I saw the last of the dream-island, bathed in the rays of the setting sun. My regret was shared by the boy, who stood, still ornamented with flowers and wreaths, at the stern ofthe steamer, looking sadly back at his disappearing paradise.Our good times, too, were over. We had a dull, rainy night, a heavy, broadside swell, and as the steamer had not enough ballast, she rolled frightfully. In this nasty sea we were afraid she might turn turtle, as another steamer had done some months ago. The storm became such that we had to lie at anchor for five days, sheltered by the coast of Gaua. It was with real relief that I left theSouthern Crossat Port Vila; sorry as I was to leave my friends on board, I did not envy them the long voyage to New Zealand.Two days later I took the mail steamer for Sydney. Although tired enough, and glad to return to the comforts of civilization, I felt real regret at leaving the places where I had spent so many delightful hours, and where I had met with so much kindness on all sides.THE END

Chapter XVTannaOf the larger inhabited islands of the New Hebrides, only Tanna remained to be visited. Instead of stopping at Vila, I went on to White Sands, Tanna, where the Rev. M. was stationed. The large island of Erromanga has but little native population, and that is all christianized; the same is true of the smaller islands of Aneityum, Aniwa and Futuna. I preferred to study Tanna, as it is characteristic of all the southern part of the archipelago. The population is quite different from that in the north, and one would call it Polynesian, were it not for the curly hair which shows Melanesian admixture. Light-coloured, tall, strong, with the fleshy body that is often a feature of the Polynesian, the people have, not infrequently, fine open features, small noses and intelligent faces of oval outline. They are more energetic, warlike and independent than those up north, and their mode of life is different, the Suque and everything connected with it being entirely absent. Instead, we find hereditary chieftainship, as in all Polynesia, and the chiefs are held in the highest veneration by their subjects. This state of things was greatly to the advantage of the missions, as the chiefs, even if converted, retainedtheir authority, whereas in the north the high castes, on their conversion, lost all influence and position, as these only depended on the Suque. The brilliant results of the missions in Tanna are due, apart from the splendid work of the two Presbyterian missionaries, chiefly to this fact. If the missionaries and the authorities would join forces for the preservation of the native race, great good might be done. Intelligent efforts along this line ought to comprise the following features: revival of the wish to live and the belief in a future for the race, increase in the birth-rate, rational distribution of the women, abolition of the present recruiting system, compulsory medical treatment, creation of law and order, and restoration of old customs as to daily life and food.MEN FROM TANNA.MEN FROM TANNA.The houses on Tanna are poor huts of reed-grass, probably because the perpetual wars discouraged the people from building good dwellings. The principal weapons are the spear and club, the arrow, as elsewhere in Polynesia, playing a subordinate part. A weapon which is probably peculiar to Tanna are throwing-stones, carefully made stone cylinders, which were hurled in battle. If a man had not time to procure one of these granite cylinders, a branch of coral or a slab of stone, hewn into serviceable shape, would serve his turn; and these instruments are not very different from our oldest prehistoric stone implements.Quite a Polynesian art is the manufacture of tapa: bark cloth. The Tannese do not know howto make large pieces, but are satisfied with narrow strips, used as belts by the men, and prettily painted in black and red.WOMEN FROM TANNA.WOMEN FROM TANNA.The dress of the men is similar to that of Malekula, that of the women consists of an apron of grass and straw; and they often wear a hat of banana leaves, while the men affect a very complicated coiffure. The hair is divided into strands, each of which is wound with a fibre from the head out. A man may have several hundred of these ropes on his head all tied together behind, giving a somewhat womanish appearance. It takes a long time to dress the hair thus, and the custom is falling into disuse.On the whole, the culture of the Tannese is low; there is no braiding or carving, and the ornaments worn consist only of a few bracelets and necklaces, with an occasional nose-stick; the only conspicuous feature are ear-rings of tortoise-shell, of which as many as a dozen may hang in one ear.On the other side of Tanna is Lenakel, where the Rev. W. was working with admirable devotion and success in a hospital. I crossed the island several times, and enjoyed the delightful rides through the shady forest, on very good bridle-paths the natives had made.Tanna’s most striking sight is its volcano; there is hardly another in the world so easily accessible; for in half an hour from the shore its foot may be reached, and in another half-hour one is at the top. It is about 260 m. high, a miniature volcano, withall its accessories complete, hot springs, lake, desert, etc., always active, rarely destructive, looking like an overgrown molehill. A wide plain stretches inland, utterly deserted owing to the poisonous vapours always carried across it by the south-east trade-wind, and in the centre of the plain is a sweet-water lake.I climbed the volcano for the first time on a rainy day. On top, I suddenly found myself at the end of the world; it was the edge of the crater, completely filled with steam. As I walked along the precipice, such an infernal thundering began just under my feet as it seemed, that I thought best to retire. My next ascent took place on a clear, bright day; but the wind drove sand and ashes along the desert, and dimmed the sunshine to a yellowish gloomy light. I traversed the desert to the foot of the crater, where the cone rose gradually out of brownish sand, in a beautiful curve, to an angle of 45°. The lack of all vegetation or other point of comparison made it impossible to judge whether the mountain was 100 or 1000 m. high. The silence was oppressive, and sand columns danced and whirled up and down, to and fro, like goblins. A smell of sulphur was in the air, the heat was torturing, the ground burnt one’s feet, and the climb in the loose sand was trying. But farther up the sea-breeze cooled the air deliciously, and stone blocks afforded a foothold. Soon I was on top, and the sight I saw seemed one that only the fancy of a morbid, melancholy genius could have invented, an uglyfever dream turned real, and no description could do it justice.In front of me the ground fell down steeply, and the torn sides of the crater formed a funnel-shaped cavity, a dark, yawning depth. There were jagged rocks, fantastic, wild ridges, crevices, fearful depths, from which issued steam and smoke. Poisonous vapour poured out of the rocks in white and brownish clouds that waved to and fro, slowly rising, until a breeze caught and carried them away. The sight alone would suffice to inspire terror, without the oppressive smoke and the uncanny noise far down in the depths. Dull and regular, it sounded like the piston of an engine or a great drum, heard through the noises of a factory. Presently there was silence, and then, without any warning, came a tearing crack, the thunder as of 100 heavy guns, a metallic din, and a cloud of smoke rose; and while we forced ourselves to stay and watch, the inferno below thundered a roaring echo, the walls shook, and a thousand dark specks flew up like a swarm of frightened birds. They were lava blocks, and they fell back from the height of the crater, rattling on the rocks, or were swallowed up by the invisible gorge. Then a thick cloud surrounded everything, and we realized that our post at the mouth of the crater, on an overhanging ridge, was dangerous; indeed, a part of the edge, not far off, broke down and was lost in the depths. Another and another explosion followed; but when we turned, we overlooked a peaceful landscape, green forests, palmsbending over the bright blue water, and far off the islands of Erromanga, Futuna and Aniwa.A visit to the volcano at night was a unique experience. Across the desert the darkness glided, and as we climbed upward, we felt and heard the metallic explosions through the flanks of the mountain, and the cloud over the crater shone in dull red. Cautiously we approached the edge, just near enough to look down. The bottom of the crater seemed lifted, the walls were almost invisible, and the uncertain glare played lightly over some theatrical-looking rocks. We could see three orifices; steam poured out of one, in the other the liquid lava boiled and bubbled, of the third there was nothing to be seen but a glow; but underneath this some force was at work. Did we hear or feel it? We were not sure; sometimes it sounded like shrill cries of despair, sometimes all was still, and the rocks seemed to shake. Then suddenly it boiled up, hissing as if a thousand steam-pipes had burst, something unspeakable seemed preparing, yet nothing happened. Some lava lumps were thrown out, to fall back or stick to the rocks, where they slowly died out. All at once a sheaf of fire shot up, tall and glowing, an explosion of incredible fury followed; the sheaf dispersed and fell down in marvellous fireworks and thousands of sparks. Slowly, in a fiery stream the lava flowed back to the bottom. Then another explosion and another, the thumping increased, one of the other openings worked, spitting viciously in all directions, the noise became unbearable. All one’s senses were affected, for the din was tooviolent to touch one’s hearing only. Then there was silence; the cloud rose, and beside it we saw the stars in the pure sky, and heard the surf beat peacefully, consolingly, as if there were no volcano and no glowing lava anywhere near.While we were standing on the brink as if fascinated, the silver moon rose behind us, spread a broad road of light on the quiet sea, played round us with her cool light, shone on the opposite wall of the crater, and caressed the sulphurous cloud. It was a magical sight, the contrast of the pure moonlight and the dirty glare of the volcano; an effect indescribably grand and peculiar, a gala performance of nature, the elements of heaven and hell side by side.At last we left. Behind and above us thundered the volcano, below us lay the desert, silvery in the moonlight, in quiet, simple lines; far away rolled the sea, and in the silence the moon rose higher and higher, and our shadows followed us as we traversed the plain and gained the friendly shade of the palm grove.

Of the larger inhabited islands of the New Hebrides, only Tanna remained to be visited. Instead of stopping at Vila, I went on to White Sands, Tanna, where the Rev. M. was stationed. The large island of Erromanga has but little native population, and that is all christianized; the same is true of the smaller islands of Aneityum, Aniwa and Futuna. I preferred to study Tanna, as it is characteristic of all the southern part of the archipelago. The population is quite different from that in the north, and one would call it Polynesian, were it not for the curly hair which shows Melanesian admixture. Light-coloured, tall, strong, with the fleshy body that is often a feature of the Polynesian, the people have, not infrequently, fine open features, small noses and intelligent faces of oval outline. They are more energetic, warlike and independent than those up north, and their mode of life is different, the Suque and everything connected with it being entirely absent. Instead, we find hereditary chieftainship, as in all Polynesia, and the chiefs are held in the highest veneration by their subjects. This state of things was greatly to the advantage of the missions, as the chiefs, even if converted, retainedtheir authority, whereas in the north the high castes, on their conversion, lost all influence and position, as these only depended on the Suque. The brilliant results of the missions in Tanna are due, apart from the splendid work of the two Presbyterian missionaries, chiefly to this fact. If the missionaries and the authorities would join forces for the preservation of the native race, great good might be done. Intelligent efforts along this line ought to comprise the following features: revival of the wish to live and the belief in a future for the race, increase in the birth-rate, rational distribution of the women, abolition of the present recruiting system, compulsory medical treatment, creation of law and order, and restoration of old customs as to daily life and food.

MEN FROM TANNA.MEN FROM TANNA.

MEN FROM TANNA.

The houses on Tanna are poor huts of reed-grass, probably because the perpetual wars discouraged the people from building good dwellings. The principal weapons are the spear and club, the arrow, as elsewhere in Polynesia, playing a subordinate part. A weapon which is probably peculiar to Tanna are throwing-stones, carefully made stone cylinders, which were hurled in battle. If a man had not time to procure one of these granite cylinders, a branch of coral or a slab of stone, hewn into serviceable shape, would serve his turn; and these instruments are not very different from our oldest prehistoric stone implements.

Quite a Polynesian art is the manufacture of tapa: bark cloth. The Tannese do not know howto make large pieces, but are satisfied with narrow strips, used as belts by the men, and prettily painted in black and red.

WOMEN FROM TANNA.WOMEN FROM TANNA.

WOMEN FROM TANNA.

The dress of the men is similar to that of Malekula, that of the women consists of an apron of grass and straw; and they often wear a hat of banana leaves, while the men affect a very complicated coiffure. The hair is divided into strands, each of which is wound with a fibre from the head out. A man may have several hundred of these ropes on his head all tied together behind, giving a somewhat womanish appearance. It takes a long time to dress the hair thus, and the custom is falling into disuse.

On the whole, the culture of the Tannese is low; there is no braiding or carving, and the ornaments worn consist only of a few bracelets and necklaces, with an occasional nose-stick; the only conspicuous feature are ear-rings of tortoise-shell, of which as many as a dozen may hang in one ear.

On the other side of Tanna is Lenakel, where the Rev. W. was working with admirable devotion and success in a hospital. I crossed the island several times, and enjoyed the delightful rides through the shady forest, on very good bridle-paths the natives had made.

Tanna’s most striking sight is its volcano; there is hardly another in the world so easily accessible; for in half an hour from the shore its foot may be reached, and in another half-hour one is at the top. It is about 260 m. high, a miniature volcano, withall its accessories complete, hot springs, lake, desert, etc., always active, rarely destructive, looking like an overgrown molehill. A wide plain stretches inland, utterly deserted owing to the poisonous vapours always carried across it by the south-east trade-wind, and in the centre of the plain is a sweet-water lake.

I climbed the volcano for the first time on a rainy day. On top, I suddenly found myself at the end of the world; it was the edge of the crater, completely filled with steam. As I walked along the precipice, such an infernal thundering began just under my feet as it seemed, that I thought best to retire. My next ascent took place on a clear, bright day; but the wind drove sand and ashes along the desert, and dimmed the sunshine to a yellowish gloomy light. I traversed the desert to the foot of the crater, where the cone rose gradually out of brownish sand, in a beautiful curve, to an angle of 45°. The lack of all vegetation or other point of comparison made it impossible to judge whether the mountain was 100 or 1000 m. high. The silence was oppressive, and sand columns danced and whirled up and down, to and fro, like goblins. A smell of sulphur was in the air, the heat was torturing, the ground burnt one’s feet, and the climb in the loose sand was trying. But farther up the sea-breeze cooled the air deliciously, and stone blocks afforded a foothold. Soon I was on top, and the sight I saw seemed one that only the fancy of a morbid, melancholy genius could have invented, an uglyfever dream turned real, and no description could do it justice.

In front of me the ground fell down steeply, and the torn sides of the crater formed a funnel-shaped cavity, a dark, yawning depth. There were jagged rocks, fantastic, wild ridges, crevices, fearful depths, from which issued steam and smoke. Poisonous vapour poured out of the rocks in white and brownish clouds that waved to and fro, slowly rising, until a breeze caught and carried them away. The sight alone would suffice to inspire terror, without the oppressive smoke and the uncanny noise far down in the depths. Dull and regular, it sounded like the piston of an engine or a great drum, heard through the noises of a factory. Presently there was silence, and then, without any warning, came a tearing crack, the thunder as of 100 heavy guns, a metallic din, and a cloud of smoke rose; and while we forced ourselves to stay and watch, the inferno below thundered a roaring echo, the walls shook, and a thousand dark specks flew up like a swarm of frightened birds. They were lava blocks, and they fell back from the height of the crater, rattling on the rocks, or were swallowed up by the invisible gorge. Then a thick cloud surrounded everything, and we realized that our post at the mouth of the crater, on an overhanging ridge, was dangerous; indeed, a part of the edge, not far off, broke down and was lost in the depths. Another and another explosion followed; but when we turned, we overlooked a peaceful landscape, green forests, palmsbending over the bright blue water, and far off the islands of Erromanga, Futuna and Aniwa.

A visit to the volcano at night was a unique experience. Across the desert the darkness glided, and as we climbed upward, we felt and heard the metallic explosions through the flanks of the mountain, and the cloud over the crater shone in dull red. Cautiously we approached the edge, just near enough to look down. The bottom of the crater seemed lifted, the walls were almost invisible, and the uncertain glare played lightly over some theatrical-looking rocks. We could see three orifices; steam poured out of one, in the other the liquid lava boiled and bubbled, of the third there was nothing to be seen but a glow; but underneath this some force was at work. Did we hear or feel it? We were not sure; sometimes it sounded like shrill cries of despair, sometimes all was still, and the rocks seemed to shake. Then suddenly it boiled up, hissing as if a thousand steam-pipes had burst, something unspeakable seemed preparing, yet nothing happened. Some lava lumps were thrown out, to fall back or stick to the rocks, where they slowly died out. All at once a sheaf of fire shot up, tall and glowing, an explosion of incredible fury followed; the sheaf dispersed and fell down in marvellous fireworks and thousands of sparks. Slowly, in a fiery stream the lava flowed back to the bottom. Then another explosion and another, the thumping increased, one of the other openings worked, spitting viciously in all directions, the noise became unbearable. All one’s senses were affected, for the din was tooviolent to touch one’s hearing only. Then there was silence; the cloud rose, and beside it we saw the stars in the pure sky, and heard the surf beat peacefully, consolingly, as if there were no volcano and no glowing lava anywhere near.

While we were standing on the brink as if fascinated, the silver moon rose behind us, spread a broad road of light on the quiet sea, played round us with her cool light, shone on the opposite wall of the crater, and caressed the sulphurous cloud. It was a magical sight, the contrast of the pure moonlight and the dirty glare of the volcano; an effect indescribably grand and peculiar, a gala performance of nature, the elements of heaven and hell side by side.

At last we left. Behind and above us thundered the volcano, below us lay the desert, silvery in the moonlight, in quiet, simple lines; far away rolled the sea, and in the silence the moon rose higher and higher, and our shadows followed us as we traversed the plain and gained the friendly shade of the palm grove.

Chapter XVIThe Santa Cruz IslandsAfter my return to Port Vila, where I again had the honour of being Mr. King’s guest, and having practically finished my task in the New Hebrides, I decided not to leave this part of the world without visiting the Santa Cruz Islands, a group of small islands north of the New Hebrides and east of the Solomon Islands. This archipelago has not had much contact with civilization, and is little known. I had a good opportunity to go there, as the steam yachtSouthern Crossof the Anglican mission in Melanesia was expected to stop at Vila on her way to the Solomons. She touched at the Santa Cruz island of Nitendi going and returning, and could therefore drop me and take me up again after about six weeks. While waiting for her arrival, I investigated some caves on Leleppa, near Port Havannah, which the natives reported to be inhabited by dwarfish men; but the results were insignificant.CANOE FROM NITENDI.CANOE FROM NITENDI.Passage having been granted me by the skipper of theSouthern Cross, I once more sailed the well-known route northward through the New Hebrides and Banks Islands; but from Ureparapara onward I was in strange waters. TheSouthern Crosswas a steamer of about five hundred tons, built especiallyfor this service, that is, to convey the missionaries and natives from the headquarters on Norfolk Island to the different islands. Life on board was far from luxurious; but there was good company and an interesting library. I had the pleasure of making some interesting acquaintances, and the missionaries gave me much valuable information about the natives and their customs. When the tone of the conversation in the evening threatened to become too serious, our jovial Captain S. speedily improved matters by his grotesquely comical sallies. A strenuous life was that of the missionary who was responsible for the organization of the voyage; he had to visit the native communities, and went ashore at every anchorage, sometimes through an ugly surf or dangerous shoals, generally with overcrowded whale-boats; and this went on for three months. I had nothing to do, and amused myself by comparing the boys from the various islands, who were quite different in looks, speech and character. There were the short, thick-set, plebeian natives from the New Hebrides, the well-built men from the Solomons, with their long faces and open, energetic expression, the languid, sleepy boys from the Torres Islands and the savage Santa Cruzians.The trip of theSouthern Crosswas important as an experiment, being the first with an exclusively native crew. Hitherto the Melanesians had been considered incapable of any work calling for energy, initiative and conscientiousness. Captain C. was convinced that this was unjust, and started on thisvoyage without any whites except the officers; the result was most satisfactory. The natives, when carefully and patiently trained, work quite as well as low-class whites, and have proved themselves capable of more than plantation work.MAN FROM NITENDI, SHOOTING.MAN FROM NITENDI, SHOOTING.It was a bright morning when we entered the lovely Graciosa Bay on Nitendi. The island had a much more tropical aspect than those of the New Hebrides, and the vegetation seemed more varied and gayer in colour. Natives in canoes approached from every side, and all along the beach lay populous villages, a sight such as the now deserted shores of the New Hebrides must have afforded in days gone by. Hardly had we cast anchor when the ship was surrounded by innumerable canoes. The men in them were all naked, except the teachers the missionaries had stationed here; all the others were genuine aborigines, who managed their boats admirably, and came hurrying on board, eager to begin bartering.The natives here have a bad reputation, and are supposed to be particularly dangerous, because they never stir from home without their poisoned arrows. A missionary had recently been forced to leave the island, after having been besieged by the natives for several days. But it would seem that they are not hostile unless one of their many intricate laws and customs is violated, which may happen easily enough to anyone unacquainted with their habits.I took up my quarters with the only white man in the place, a Mr. M., who managed a cocoa-nut plantation for an Australian company with boys from theSolomons. My first task was to find servants, as none had dared accompany me from the New Hebrides to the ill-famed Santa Cruz Islands. Through his coprah trade Mr. M. knew the people well, and by his help I soon found two boys who had some vague notion of biche la mar, real savages, who served me well in a childish, playful way. They were always jolly, and although they seemed to look upon what they did for me rather as a kindness than a duty, we got along fairly well. When it became known that my service implied good food and little work, many others applied, but I only chose one young fellow, probably the most perfect specimen of a man I have ever seen. He kept himself scrupulously clean, and in his quiet, even behaviour there was something that distinguished him from all the rest. It is difficult to put the beauty of a human body into words; I can only say that he was of symmetrical build, with a deep chest and well-developed limbs, but without the great muscles that would have given him the coarse aspect of an athlete. His greatest charm was in the grace of his movements and the natural nobility of his attitudes and his walk; for he moved as lightly and daintily as a deer, and it was a constant pleasure, while walking behind him during our marches through the forest, to admire his elastic gait, the play of his muscles and the elegant ease with which he threaded the thicket. I tried to take some photographs of him, but without great success, owing to technical difficulties; besides, the face had to be hidden as much as possible, as to aEuropean eye the natives’ faces often seem to have a brutal expression. The men of Santa Cruz, too, wear disfiguring nose-rings of tortoise-shell hanging down over their mouths, so large that when eating they have to be lifted up out of the way with the left hand. Another ugly habit is the chewing of betel, the nut of the areca palm, which is mixed with pepper leaves and lime. The lime is carried in a gourd, often decorated with drawings and provided with an artistically carved stopper. The leaves and this bottle are kept in beautifully woven baskets, the prettiest products of native art, made of banana fibre interwoven with delicate designs in black. Betel-chewing seems to have a slightly intoxicating effect; my boys, at least, were often strangely exhilarated in the evening, although they had certainly had no liquor. The lime forms a black deposit on the teeth, which sometimes grows to such a size as to hang out of the mouth, an appendage of which some natives seem rather vain.The dress of the men consists of a narrow belt of bark and a strip of tapa worn between the legs. Around their knees and ankles they wear small, shiny shells, and on their chests a large circular plate of tridacna-shell, to which is attached a dainty bit of carved tortoise-shell representing a combination of fish and turtle. This beautiful ornament is very effective on the dark skin. In the lobes of the ears are hung large tortoise-shell ornaments, and on the arms large shell rings or bracelets braided with shell and cocoa-nut beads are worn.The men are never seen without bows and arrows of large and heavy dimensions. Like all the belongings of the Santa Cruzians, the arrows show artistic taste, being carefully carved and painted so as to display black carving on a white and red ground. The points of the arrows are made of human bone.I bought one of the excellent canoes made by these people, and often crossed the lovely, quiet bay to visit different villages. The natives take great care of their canoes, and make it a point of honour to keep them spotlessly white, which they do by rubbing them with a seaweed they gather at the bottom of the ocean.On approaching a village it requires all the skill of the native not to be dashed by the swell against the reefs. A narrow sandy beach lies behind, and then a stone terrace 6 feet high, on which the gamal is built. Generally there was great excitement when I landed, and the men came rushing from all sides to see me. They were not hostile, only too eager for trade, and I had to interrupt my visits for a week and trade only at the house where I was staying, so as to give them time to quiet down. This helped matters a little, although, until the day I left, I was always the centre of an excited mob that pulled at my sleeves and trousers and shrieked into my ears. I was always cordially invited to enter the gamals; these were square houses, kept very clean, with a fireplace in the centre, and the floor covered with mats. As usual, the roof wasfull of implements of all sorts, and over the fire there was a stand and shelves, where coprah was roasted and food preserved.The natives are expert fishermen, and know how to make the finest as well as the coarsest nets. They frequently spend the mornings fishing, a flotilla of canoes gathering at some shallow spot in the bay.The afternoons are mostly spent in the village in adolce far niente. Each village has its special industry: in one the arm-rings of shell are made, in another the breastplates, in a third canoes, or the fine mats which are woven on a loom of the simplest system, very similar to a type of loom found in North America. Weaving, it will be remembered, is quite unknown in the New Hebrides.An object peculiar to these islands is feather money. This consists of the fine breast-feathers of a small bird, stuck together to form plates, which are fastened on a strip of sinnet, so that a long ribbon of scarlet feathers is obtained of beautiful colour and brilliancy. These strips are rolled and preserved in the houses, carefully wrapped up and only displayed on great occasions. Considering how few available feathers one little bird yields, and how many are needed for one roll, it is not surprising that this feather money is very valuable, and that a single roll will buy a woman. At great dances the circular dancing-grounds along the shore are decorated with these ribbons.For a dance the men exchange the nose-ringof tortoise-shell for a large, finely carved plate of mother-of-pearl. In the perforated sides of the nose they place thin sticks, which stand high up towards the eyes. In the hair they wear sticks and small boards covered with the same feathers as those used for feather money. They have dancing-sticks of a most elaborate description, heavy wooden clubs of the shape of a canoe, painted in delicate designs and with rattles at the lower end. The designs are black and red on a white ground, and are derived from shapes of fish and birds. Similar work is done on carvings showing the different species of fish and birds; the drawing is exquisite, and shows fine feeling for ornamental composition.MAN FROM NITENDI, WITH PEARL SHELL NOSE ORNAMENT FOR DANCING.MAN FROM NITENDI, WITH PEARL SHELL NOSE ORNAMENT FOR DANCING.The position of women in Santa Cruz is peculiar, although the Suque does not exist, and therefore no separation of fires is enforced. Masculine jealousy seems to have reached its climax here, for no man from another village even dares look at a woman. The women’s houses are a little inland, away from the gamal and separated by high walls from the outer world. Most of the houses are square, but there are some circular ones, a type very rare in these regions. To my regret I was never able to examine one of these round houses, so that I have no idea how they are built. To enter the women’s quarters, or to approach nearer than 100 mètres to any woman, is a deadly offence, and such breaches of etiquette are the cause of frequent feuds. Only once I was taken by one of my boys through the lanes of his village, and thiswas considered very daring, and the limit of permissible investigation. However, with the help of Mr. M., who was practically a “citizen” of one of the villages, I succeeded in taking some photographs of women; but only the oldest dowagers and some sick girls presented themselves, and among them I saw the most repulsive being I ever met,—an old shrivelled-up hag. At sight of such a creature one cannot wonder that old women were often accused of sorcery.It is surprising how much inferior physically the women of Nitendi are to the men. The men are among the best made people I ever saw, while the women are the poorest. The dress of the women consists of large pieces of tapa, worn around the hips and over the head, and a third piece is sometimes used as a shawl. Tapa is not made at Graciosa Bay, but inland; it is often painted in simple but effective geometrical designs.The majority of the population lives near the sea; I was credibly informed that there are hardly any people inland. The Santa Cruzian is a “salt-water man,” and there is a string of villages all along the coast. The inhabitants of the different villages keep very much to themselves, and their territories are separated by a strip of forest, and on the shore by high stone walls leading far out into the sea. On the whole, the two thousand people in the bay live very quietly, certainly more so than the same number of whites would without any police. It is not quite clear in what respect our civilization couldimprove them, as, like most aborigines, they have a pronounced sense of propriety, justice and politeness. There is very little disputing or quarrelling, and differences of opinion are usually settled by a joke, so that in this respect the savages show a behaviour far superior to that of many a roaring and swearing white.I found neither drums nor statues here, and of the local religion I could learn nothing. There is a skull-cult, similar to that on Malekula: a man will paint the skull of a favourite wife or child yellow, shut all the openings with wooden stoppers and carry the relic about with him. Towards the end of my stay I obtained possession of some of these interesting skulls. The idea in shutting the holes is doubtless to preserve the spirit of the dead inside the skull.One evening I crossed the bay to attend a dance. The starless sky shone feebly, spotted with dark, torn clouds. A dull silver light lay on the sea, which was scarcely lighter than the steep shores. In the silence the strokes of our oars sounded sharp and energetic, yet they seemed to come from a distance. In the darkness we felt first the outrigger, then the canoe, lifted by a heavy swell, which glided away out of sight in monotonous rhythm. Then light began to play around us, indistinct at first, then two silver stripes formed at the bow and ran along the boat. They were surrounded by bright, whirling sparks, and at the bow of the outrigger the gayest fireworks of silver light sprang up, sparkling and dying awayas if the boat had been a meteor. The oars, too, dripped light, as though they were bringing up fine silver dust from below. The naked boy in front of me shone like a marble statue on a dark background as his beautiful body worked in rhythmic movements, the light playing to and fro on his back. And ever the sparks danced along the boat in hypnotizing confusion, and mighty harmonies seemed to echo through the night air. The feeling of time was lost, until the opposite shore rose to a black wall, then, through the silence, we heard the cold rush of the surf beating moodily on the reef. We slackened speed, the fairy light died and the dream ended. We kept along the shore, looking for the entrance, which the boys found by feeling for a well-known rock with their oars. A wave lifted us, the boys bent to their oars with all their might, we shot across the reef and ran into the soft sand of the beach.MAN FROM TUCOPIA WITH TAPA DRESS.MAN FROM TUCOPIA WITH TAPA DRESS.But as the rain fell now in torrents, there was no dance that night.Mr. M. and I attempted a few excursions, but bad weather interfered with our plans, and a rainy period of three weeks followed. One squall chased the other, rattling on the roof, forming swamps everywhere, and penetrating everything with moisture. I was glad when theSouthern Crosscame back for me, especially as this was to be the beginning of my homeward journey.This time we touched at a small island called Tucopia, where a primitive Polynesian population still exists, probably the only island where this is thecase. When the steamer approached we saw the people running about on the reef in excitement, and soon countless canoes surrounded us. The appearance of these islanders was quite new to me. Instead of the dark, curly-haired, short Melanesians, I saw tall, light-coloured men with thick manes of long, golden hair. They climbed aboard, wonderful giants, with soft, dark eyes, kind smiles and childlike manners. They went everywhere, touched everything, and flattered and caressed us. We were all eager to go ashore, and at the edge of the reef an excited crowd awaited our arrival impatiently and pulled our boat violently on the rocks in their eagerness. Two tall fellows grabbed me under the arms, and, willy-nilly, I was carried across the reef and carefully deposited under a shady tree on the beach. At first I did not quite trust my companions, but I was powerless to resist, and soon I became more confident, as my new friends constantly hugged and stroked me. Soon a missionary was brought ashore in the same way, and then, to our greatest surprise, a man approached us who spoke biche la mar. He asked if we had no sickness on board, for some time ago the same ship had infected the island with an epidemic that had caused many deaths. We assured him that we had none, and he gave us permission to visit the island, telling us, too, that we were to have the great honour of being presented to one of the four chiefs. This was indeed something to be proud of, for in Polynesian islands the chieftainship, as I have said, is hereditary, and the chiefs arepaid honours almost divine. We took off our hats and were led before the chief, a tall, stout man, who sat in a circle of men on a sort of throne, with his ceremonial spear leaning against a tree beside him. His subjects approached him crouching, but he shook hands with us and smiled kindly at us. A noble gesture of the hand gave us leave to taste a meal prepared to welcome us, which looked most uninviting, but turned out to be beautifully cooked sago and cocoa-nut cream. We could not finish the generous portions, and presently signed that we were satisfied; the chief seemed to regret that we did not do more honour to his hospitality, but he gave us permission to walk about. While all the other natives ran about in great excitement over our visit, the good old man sat on his throne all the time, quite solemnly, although I am convinced that he was fairly bursting with curiosity. We hurried through the village, so as to get a general idea of the houses and implements, and then to the beach, which was a beautiful sight. Whereas on Melanesian islands the dancing-grounds only are kept cleared, and surrounded by thick shrubbery for fear of invasion, here all the underbrush had been rooted out, and the shore was like a park, with a splendid view through dark tree-trunks across the blue sea, while the golden, godlike forms of the natives walked about with proud, regal gait, or stood in animated groups. It was a sight so different in its peaceful simplicity from what I was accustomed to see in Melanesia, it all looked so happy, gay and alluring that it hardly needed the invitations of thekind people, without weapons or suspicion, and with wreaths of sweet-scented flowers around their heads and bodies, to incline us to stay. Truly, the sailors of old were not to blame if they deserted in numbers on such islands, and preferred the careless native life to hard work on board a whaler. Again and again I seemed to see the living originals of some classical picture, and more and more my soul succumbed to the intoxicating charm of the lovely island.But we could not stay; the steamer whistled, and we had to leave. A young native was going to Norfolk Island, and he took leave of his family and the chief in a manly way which was touching to witness. He bowed and laid his face on the knees of some old white-haired men with finely chiselled, noble faces. They seemed to bless him, then they raised his head and tenderly pressed their faces against his, so that their noses touched. The boy brushed away a tear and then jumped bravely on board.When we came on board, the steamer was crowded with natives, and they refused to leave. We had to drive them away energetically, and as their canoes were soon overcrowded, many of them jumped into the water with shouts and laughter, and swam several miles to the shore, floating happily in the blue sea, with their long hair waving after them like liquid gold. Thus I saw the last of the dream-island, bathed in the rays of the setting sun. My regret was shared by the boy, who stood, still ornamented with flowers and wreaths, at the stern ofthe steamer, looking sadly back at his disappearing paradise.Our good times, too, were over. We had a dull, rainy night, a heavy, broadside swell, and as the steamer had not enough ballast, she rolled frightfully. In this nasty sea we were afraid she might turn turtle, as another steamer had done some months ago. The storm became such that we had to lie at anchor for five days, sheltered by the coast of Gaua. It was with real relief that I left theSouthern Crossat Port Vila; sorry as I was to leave my friends on board, I did not envy them the long voyage to New Zealand.Two days later I took the mail steamer for Sydney. Although tired enough, and glad to return to the comforts of civilization, I felt real regret at leaving the places where I had spent so many delightful hours, and where I had met with so much kindness on all sides.THE END

After my return to Port Vila, where I again had the honour of being Mr. King’s guest, and having practically finished my task in the New Hebrides, I decided not to leave this part of the world without visiting the Santa Cruz Islands, a group of small islands north of the New Hebrides and east of the Solomon Islands. This archipelago has not had much contact with civilization, and is little known. I had a good opportunity to go there, as the steam yachtSouthern Crossof the Anglican mission in Melanesia was expected to stop at Vila on her way to the Solomons. She touched at the Santa Cruz island of Nitendi going and returning, and could therefore drop me and take me up again after about six weeks. While waiting for her arrival, I investigated some caves on Leleppa, near Port Havannah, which the natives reported to be inhabited by dwarfish men; but the results were insignificant.

CANOE FROM NITENDI.CANOE FROM NITENDI.

CANOE FROM NITENDI.

Passage having been granted me by the skipper of theSouthern Cross, I once more sailed the well-known route northward through the New Hebrides and Banks Islands; but from Ureparapara onward I was in strange waters. TheSouthern Crosswas a steamer of about five hundred tons, built especiallyfor this service, that is, to convey the missionaries and natives from the headquarters on Norfolk Island to the different islands. Life on board was far from luxurious; but there was good company and an interesting library. I had the pleasure of making some interesting acquaintances, and the missionaries gave me much valuable information about the natives and their customs. When the tone of the conversation in the evening threatened to become too serious, our jovial Captain S. speedily improved matters by his grotesquely comical sallies. A strenuous life was that of the missionary who was responsible for the organization of the voyage; he had to visit the native communities, and went ashore at every anchorage, sometimes through an ugly surf or dangerous shoals, generally with overcrowded whale-boats; and this went on for three months. I had nothing to do, and amused myself by comparing the boys from the various islands, who were quite different in looks, speech and character. There were the short, thick-set, plebeian natives from the New Hebrides, the well-built men from the Solomons, with their long faces and open, energetic expression, the languid, sleepy boys from the Torres Islands and the savage Santa Cruzians.

The trip of theSouthern Crosswas important as an experiment, being the first with an exclusively native crew. Hitherto the Melanesians had been considered incapable of any work calling for energy, initiative and conscientiousness. Captain C. was convinced that this was unjust, and started on thisvoyage without any whites except the officers; the result was most satisfactory. The natives, when carefully and patiently trained, work quite as well as low-class whites, and have proved themselves capable of more than plantation work.

MAN FROM NITENDI, SHOOTING.MAN FROM NITENDI, SHOOTING.

MAN FROM NITENDI, SHOOTING.

It was a bright morning when we entered the lovely Graciosa Bay on Nitendi. The island had a much more tropical aspect than those of the New Hebrides, and the vegetation seemed more varied and gayer in colour. Natives in canoes approached from every side, and all along the beach lay populous villages, a sight such as the now deserted shores of the New Hebrides must have afforded in days gone by. Hardly had we cast anchor when the ship was surrounded by innumerable canoes. The men in them were all naked, except the teachers the missionaries had stationed here; all the others were genuine aborigines, who managed their boats admirably, and came hurrying on board, eager to begin bartering.

The natives here have a bad reputation, and are supposed to be particularly dangerous, because they never stir from home without their poisoned arrows. A missionary had recently been forced to leave the island, after having been besieged by the natives for several days. But it would seem that they are not hostile unless one of their many intricate laws and customs is violated, which may happen easily enough to anyone unacquainted with their habits.

I took up my quarters with the only white man in the place, a Mr. M., who managed a cocoa-nut plantation for an Australian company with boys from theSolomons. My first task was to find servants, as none had dared accompany me from the New Hebrides to the ill-famed Santa Cruz Islands. Through his coprah trade Mr. M. knew the people well, and by his help I soon found two boys who had some vague notion of biche la mar, real savages, who served me well in a childish, playful way. They were always jolly, and although they seemed to look upon what they did for me rather as a kindness than a duty, we got along fairly well. When it became known that my service implied good food and little work, many others applied, but I only chose one young fellow, probably the most perfect specimen of a man I have ever seen. He kept himself scrupulously clean, and in his quiet, even behaviour there was something that distinguished him from all the rest. It is difficult to put the beauty of a human body into words; I can only say that he was of symmetrical build, with a deep chest and well-developed limbs, but without the great muscles that would have given him the coarse aspect of an athlete. His greatest charm was in the grace of his movements and the natural nobility of his attitudes and his walk; for he moved as lightly and daintily as a deer, and it was a constant pleasure, while walking behind him during our marches through the forest, to admire his elastic gait, the play of his muscles and the elegant ease with which he threaded the thicket. I tried to take some photographs of him, but without great success, owing to technical difficulties; besides, the face had to be hidden as much as possible, as to aEuropean eye the natives’ faces often seem to have a brutal expression. The men of Santa Cruz, too, wear disfiguring nose-rings of tortoise-shell hanging down over their mouths, so large that when eating they have to be lifted up out of the way with the left hand. Another ugly habit is the chewing of betel, the nut of the areca palm, which is mixed with pepper leaves and lime. The lime is carried in a gourd, often decorated with drawings and provided with an artistically carved stopper. The leaves and this bottle are kept in beautifully woven baskets, the prettiest products of native art, made of banana fibre interwoven with delicate designs in black. Betel-chewing seems to have a slightly intoxicating effect; my boys, at least, were often strangely exhilarated in the evening, although they had certainly had no liquor. The lime forms a black deposit on the teeth, which sometimes grows to such a size as to hang out of the mouth, an appendage of which some natives seem rather vain.

The dress of the men consists of a narrow belt of bark and a strip of tapa worn between the legs. Around their knees and ankles they wear small, shiny shells, and on their chests a large circular plate of tridacna-shell, to which is attached a dainty bit of carved tortoise-shell representing a combination of fish and turtle. This beautiful ornament is very effective on the dark skin. In the lobes of the ears are hung large tortoise-shell ornaments, and on the arms large shell rings or bracelets braided with shell and cocoa-nut beads are worn.

The men are never seen without bows and arrows of large and heavy dimensions. Like all the belongings of the Santa Cruzians, the arrows show artistic taste, being carefully carved and painted so as to display black carving on a white and red ground. The points of the arrows are made of human bone.

I bought one of the excellent canoes made by these people, and often crossed the lovely, quiet bay to visit different villages. The natives take great care of their canoes, and make it a point of honour to keep them spotlessly white, which they do by rubbing them with a seaweed they gather at the bottom of the ocean.

On approaching a village it requires all the skill of the native not to be dashed by the swell against the reefs. A narrow sandy beach lies behind, and then a stone terrace 6 feet high, on which the gamal is built. Generally there was great excitement when I landed, and the men came rushing from all sides to see me. They were not hostile, only too eager for trade, and I had to interrupt my visits for a week and trade only at the house where I was staying, so as to give them time to quiet down. This helped matters a little, although, until the day I left, I was always the centre of an excited mob that pulled at my sleeves and trousers and shrieked into my ears. I was always cordially invited to enter the gamals; these were square houses, kept very clean, with a fireplace in the centre, and the floor covered with mats. As usual, the roof wasfull of implements of all sorts, and over the fire there was a stand and shelves, where coprah was roasted and food preserved.

The natives are expert fishermen, and know how to make the finest as well as the coarsest nets. They frequently spend the mornings fishing, a flotilla of canoes gathering at some shallow spot in the bay.

The afternoons are mostly spent in the village in adolce far niente. Each village has its special industry: in one the arm-rings of shell are made, in another the breastplates, in a third canoes, or the fine mats which are woven on a loom of the simplest system, very similar to a type of loom found in North America. Weaving, it will be remembered, is quite unknown in the New Hebrides.

An object peculiar to these islands is feather money. This consists of the fine breast-feathers of a small bird, stuck together to form plates, which are fastened on a strip of sinnet, so that a long ribbon of scarlet feathers is obtained of beautiful colour and brilliancy. These strips are rolled and preserved in the houses, carefully wrapped up and only displayed on great occasions. Considering how few available feathers one little bird yields, and how many are needed for one roll, it is not surprising that this feather money is very valuable, and that a single roll will buy a woman. At great dances the circular dancing-grounds along the shore are decorated with these ribbons.

For a dance the men exchange the nose-ringof tortoise-shell for a large, finely carved plate of mother-of-pearl. In the perforated sides of the nose they place thin sticks, which stand high up towards the eyes. In the hair they wear sticks and small boards covered with the same feathers as those used for feather money. They have dancing-sticks of a most elaborate description, heavy wooden clubs of the shape of a canoe, painted in delicate designs and with rattles at the lower end. The designs are black and red on a white ground, and are derived from shapes of fish and birds. Similar work is done on carvings showing the different species of fish and birds; the drawing is exquisite, and shows fine feeling for ornamental composition.

MAN FROM NITENDI, WITH PEARL SHELL NOSE ORNAMENT FOR DANCING.MAN FROM NITENDI, WITH PEARL SHELL NOSE ORNAMENT FOR DANCING.

MAN FROM NITENDI, WITH PEARL SHELL NOSE ORNAMENT FOR DANCING.

The position of women in Santa Cruz is peculiar, although the Suque does not exist, and therefore no separation of fires is enforced. Masculine jealousy seems to have reached its climax here, for no man from another village even dares look at a woman. The women’s houses are a little inland, away from the gamal and separated by high walls from the outer world. Most of the houses are square, but there are some circular ones, a type very rare in these regions. To my regret I was never able to examine one of these round houses, so that I have no idea how they are built. To enter the women’s quarters, or to approach nearer than 100 mètres to any woman, is a deadly offence, and such breaches of etiquette are the cause of frequent feuds. Only once I was taken by one of my boys through the lanes of his village, and thiswas considered very daring, and the limit of permissible investigation. However, with the help of Mr. M., who was practically a “citizen” of one of the villages, I succeeded in taking some photographs of women; but only the oldest dowagers and some sick girls presented themselves, and among them I saw the most repulsive being I ever met,—an old shrivelled-up hag. At sight of such a creature one cannot wonder that old women were often accused of sorcery.

It is surprising how much inferior physically the women of Nitendi are to the men. The men are among the best made people I ever saw, while the women are the poorest. The dress of the women consists of large pieces of tapa, worn around the hips and over the head, and a third piece is sometimes used as a shawl. Tapa is not made at Graciosa Bay, but inland; it is often painted in simple but effective geometrical designs.

The majority of the population lives near the sea; I was credibly informed that there are hardly any people inland. The Santa Cruzian is a “salt-water man,” and there is a string of villages all along the coast. The inhabitants of the different villages keep very much to themselves, and their territories are separated by a strip of forest, and on the shore by high stone walls leading far out into the sea. On the whole, the two thousand people in the bay live very quietly, certainly more so than the same number of whites would without any police. It is not quite clear in what respect our civilization couldimprove them, as, like most aborigines, they have a pronounced sense of propriety, justice and politeness. There is very little disputing or quarrelling, and differences of opinion are usually settled by a joke, so that in this respect the savages show a behaviour far superior to that of many a roaring and swearing white.

I found neither drums nor statues here, and of the local religion I could learn nothing. There is a skull-cult, similar to that on Malekula: a man will paint the skull of a favourite wife or child yellow, shut all the openings with wooden stoppers and carry the relic about with him. Towards the end of my stay I obtained possession of some of these interesting skulls. The idea in shutting the holes is doubtless to preserve the spirit of the dead inside the skull.

One evening I crossed the bay to attend a dance. The starless sky shone feebly, spotted with dark, torn clouds. A dull silver light lay on the sea, which was scarcely lighter than the steep shores. In the silence the strokes of our oars sounded sharp and energetic, yet they seemed to come from a distance. In the darkness we felt first the outrigger, then the canoe, lifted by a heavy swell, which glided away out of sight in monotonous rhythm. Then light began to play around us, indistinct at first, then two silver stripes formed at the bow and ran along the boat. They were surrounded by bright, whirling sparks, and at the bow of the outrigger the gayest fireworks of silver light sprang up, sparkling and dying awayas if the boat had been a meteor. The oars, too, dripped light, as though they were bringing up fine silver dust from below. The naked boy in front of me shone like a marble statue on a dark background as his beautiful body worked in rhythmic movements, the light playing to and fro on his back. And ever the sparks danced along the boat in hypnotizing confusion, and mighty harmonies seemed to echo through the night air. The feeling of time was lost, until the opposite shore rose to a black wall, then, through the silence, we heard the cold rush of the surf beating moodily on the reef. We slackened speed, the fairy light died and the dream ended. We kept along the shore, looking for the entrance, which the boys found by feeling for a well-known rock with their oars. A wave lifted us, the boys bent to their oars with all their might, we shot across the reef and ran into the soft sand of the beach.

MAN FROM TUCOPIA WITH TAPA DRESS.MAN FROM TUCOPIA WITH TAPA DRESS.

MAN FROM TUCOPIA WITH TAPA DRESS.

But as the rain fell now in torrents, there was no dance that night.

Mr. M. and I attempted a few excursions, but bad weather interfered with our plans, and a rainy period of three weeks followed. One squall chased the other, rattling on the roof, forming swamps everywhere, and penetrating everything with moisture. I was glad when theSouthern Crosscame back for me, especially as this was to be the beginning of my homeward journey.

This time we touched at a small island called Tucopia, where a primitive Polynesian population still exists, probably the only island where this is thecase. When the steamer approached we saw the people running about on the reef in excitement, and soon countless canoes surrounded us. The appearance of these islanders was quite new to me. Instead of the dark, curly-haired, short Melanesians, I saw tall, light-coloured men with thick manes of long, golden hair. They climbed aboard, wonderful giants, with soft, dark eyes, kind smiles and childlike manners. They went everywhere, touched everything, and flattered and caressed us. We were all eager to go ashore, and at the edge of the reef an excited crowd awaited our arrival impatiently and pulled our boat violently on the rocks in their eagerness. Two tall fellows grabbed me under the arms, and, willy-nilly, I was carried across the reef and carefully deposited under a shady tree on the beach. At first I did not quite trust my companions, but I was powerless to resist, and soon I became more confident, as my new friends constantly hugged and stroked me. Soon a missionary was brought ashore in the same way, and then, to our greatest surprise, a man approached us who spoke biche la mar. He asked if we had no sickness on board, for some time ago the same ship had infected the island with an epidemic that had caused many deaths. We assured him that we had none, and he gave us permission to visit the island, telling us, too, that we were to have the great honour of being presented to one of the four chiefs. This was indeed something to be proud of, for in Polynesian islands the chieftainship, as I have said, is hereditary, and the chiefs arepaid honours almost divine. We took off our hats and were led before the chief, a tall, stout man, who sat in a circle of men on a sort of throne, with his ceremonial spear leaning against a tree beside him. His subjects approached him crouching, but he shook hands with us and smiled kindly at us. A noble gesture of the hand gave us leave to taste a meal prepared to welcome us, which looked most uninviting, but turned out to be beautifully cooked sago and cocoa-nut cream. We could not finish the generous portions, and presently signed that we were satisfied; the chief seemed to regret that we did not do more honour to his hospitality, but he gave us permission to walk about. While all the other natives ran about in great excitement over our visit, the good old man sat on his throne all the time, quite solemnly, although I am convinced that he was fairly bursting with curiosity. We hurried through the village, so as to get a general idea of the houses and implements, and then to the beach, which was a beautiful sight. Whereas on Melanesian islands the dancing-grounds only are kept cleared, and surrounded by thick shrubbery for fear of invasion, here all the underbrush had been rooted out, and the shore was like a park, with a splendid view through dark tree-trunks across the blue sea, while the golden, godlike forms of the natives walked about with proud, regal gait, or stood in animated groups. It was a sight so different in its peaceful simplicity from what I was accustomed to see in Melanesia, it all looked so happy, gay and alluring that it hardly needed the invitations of thekind people, without weapons or suspicion, and with wreaths of sweet-scented flowers around their heads and bodies, to incline us to stay. Truly, the sailors of old were not to blame if they deserted in numbers on such islands, and preferred the careless native life to hard work on board a whaler. Again and again I seemed to see the living originals of some classical picture, and more and more my soul succumbed to the intoxicating charm of the lovely island.

But we could not stay; the steamer whistled, and we had to leave. A young native was going to Norfolk Island, and he took leave of his family and the chief in a manly way which was touching to witness. He bowed and laid his face on the knees of some old white-haired men with finely chiselled, noble faces. They seemed to bless him, then they raised his head and tenderly pressed their faces against his, so that their noses touched. The boy brushed away a tear and then jumped bravely on board.

When we came on board, the steamer was crowded with natives, and they refused to leave. We had to drive them away energetically, and as their canoes were soon overcrowded, many of them jumped into the water with shouts and laughter, and swam several miles to the shore, floating happily in the blue sea, with their long hair waving after them like liquid gold. Thus I saw the last of the dream-island, bathed in the rays of the setting sun. My regret was shared by the boy, who stood, still ornamented with flowers and wreaths, at the stern ofthe steamer, looking sadly back at his disappearing paradise.

Our good times, too, were over. We had a dull, rainy night, a heavy, broadside swell, and as the steamer had not enough ballast, she rolled frightfully. In this nasty sea we were afraid she might turn turtle, as another steamer had done some months ago. The storm became such that we had to lie at anchor for five days, sheltered by the coast of Gaua. It was with real relief that I left theSouthern Crossat Port Vila; sorry as I was to leave my friends on board, I did not envy them the long voyage to New Zealand.

Two days later I took the mail steamer for Sydney. Although tired enough, and glad to return to the comforts of civilization, I felt real regret at leaving the places where I had spent so many delightful hours, and where I had met with so much kindness on all sides.

THE END

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