\J1^\^\J OflHfr -^ ufBtfl THE WAYS OF THE SOUTH SEA SAVAGE - . • : • . Mekeo Men in Dancing Decorations The .lis, s on their foreheads are made of fretted turtle shell with white shell behind and are only worn by men who. or whose ancestors, have killed an enemy in battle. The men aluav! carry an.l beat their drums whilst dar y uwuc. xae men aiuaj* THE WAYS OF THE SOUTH SEA SAVAGE A RECORD OF TRAVEL & OBSERVATION AMONGST THE SAVAGES OF THE SOLOMON ISLANDS & PRIMITIVE COAST & MOUNTAIN PEOPLES OF NEW GUINEA BY ROBERT W. WILLIAMSON, M.Sc. Member of the Council of the Royal Anthropological Institute AUTHOR OF "THE MAFULU MOUNTAIN PEOPLE OF BRITISH NEW GUIN'a" WITH 43 ILLUSTRATIONS & MAP PHILADELPHIA J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY LONDON : SEELEY, SERVICE & CO. Ltd. 1914 .. PREFACE The study of the more primitive races of mankind is ever a fascinating one, and no part of the globe now offers greater facilities for its enjoyment than do the islands of the South-West Pacific and New Guinea ; indeed New Guinea may almost be regarded as the last stronghold of the savage ; for, though it has had many white visitors and is under the government of European powers, and though much has been observed and recorded concerning the people of some of its coast-lines and the low-lying plains behind them, a great part of its mountainous interior still remains a sealed book, which no man has yet attempted to open and read. Some of these mountainous districts, however, which a few years ago could only be penetrated by an organized and strongly armed expedition, are now, thanks in part to the heroic efforts of missionaries, and in part to the gradual inward spread of Government influence and con- trol, becoming approachable by the solitary explorer ; and among these is the mountain area of the Mafulu people. But, though Government officials, with their retinues of armed police, had visited the Mafulu villages once or twice, and though the missionaries of the Society of the Sacred Heart, with their impelling zeal and energy, had five years previous to my visit to New Guinea in 1910 established a small mission station there, our knowledge of the Mafulu people was practically confined to the facts that they were short in stature, had only small villages, built suspension bridges across rivers, used short bows and long arrows, and placed some of their dead on plat- forms above-ground, instead of burying them, and that >3 PREFACE their women only wore narrow perineal bands, tied round the waist and passing between the legs, in lieu of the grass petticoats of their sisters of the coast-line and plains. Here then was a fine, open, virgin field for ethnological exploration and investigation. So, though I hoped to see something of the more primitive people of the Solomon Islands, and looked forward to a highly interesting and instructive journey inland among the villages of the New Guinea plains, the mountains of Mafulu were the real and ultimate objective of my expedition. I sailed from Sydney to the Solomon Islands, calling at Tulagi, the Government station in the island of Florida (one of the more eastern ones) and one or two other places, and later at Gizo, a trading and magisterial station in a small island of the New Georgia (further west) group, at which place I left the boat and spent some time among the islanders, away from civilization. From there I sailed to Port Moresby, the seat of the Government of British New Guinea, where I got in supplies and made my prepar- ations for my expedition into the interior of New Guinea. My base for this purpose was Yule Island, which is about sixty miles to the north-west of Port Moresby, and is the head-quarters station of the Roman Catholic Mission of the Sacred Heart. I received the utmost kindness and help from the members of this mission ; indeed the success which attended my expedition to the Mafulu district of the interior of New Guinea was largely due to their untiring help. Scattered portions of my observations concerning the people of the Solomon Islands are more or less identical with paragraphs appearing in the section (written by me) on "Melanesia" in the recently published work upon Customs of the World; and I am indebted to Messrs. Hutchinson and Co. for having given me their permission for tlii-. CONTENTS CHAPTER I THE RUBIANA LAGOON PAUE The people of Gizo— Island traders — Murders — Alone with savages — The Rubiana people— Coiffures — The houses — Friendly na- tives — A concert — A pleasant trip — A charming scene — Coral reefs . . • • ... 17 CHAPTER II THE RUBIANA LAGOON— continued Phosphorescent waves — Reluctant boatmen — An impressive sight — Club-houses — Native etiquette — My native quarters — Amusing misunderstanding — Rough accommodation — Mosquitoes and sand flies — Scale of culture — " Pilot fish " . 31 CHAPTER III KULAMBANGRA An ignorant plot — Treatment of the native — An uncomfortable prospect — A palm grove — Impressing the natives — A nervous companion — A bloodthirsty filibuster — Taboo — Taboo marks and signs — Plants — Crocodiles — A baby crocodile — Fauna — Flora . 43 CHAPTER IV THE RUBIANA AND KULAMBANGRA PEOPLE The Papuans — Pygmies — Marriage — Ceremonies — The Rubiana warrior — Beautiful canoes — Animal representations — Burial cus- toms — Shrines and images — Risks of the traveller . . 58 CHAPTER V RELIGIOUS BELIEFS AND PRACTICES OF THE SOLOMON ISLANDERS Supernatural power — Prayers and offerings — Village desertion — The fear of ghosts — Sacred stones — Idols— Magic and sorcery — Or- deals . . . . ... 71 CONTENTS CHAPTER VI ARRIVAL IN NEW GUINEA PAGE Port Moresby — A luxurious hotel — A friend indeed — A glut of trade — Scarcity of water — Plans for the expedition — My commis- sariat — Impossible advice — Catholic mission — A short cut — A tropical river — Inland trade — Final preparations . . 86 CHAPTER VII THROUGH THE MEKEO DISTRICT The Mekeo plains — A dangerous path — Travelling in New Guinea — The labour difficulty — Annoyances and humour — Collecting curios - Currency and trade — Sam's mistake — Society of the Sacred Heart . . ... 100 CHAPTER VIII THE RORO AND MEKEO PEOPLE Dress — Decorations — Chieftainship — Native courtesy — Ceremonies — Village life — A village dandy — Betel-chewing — Smoking — Evening in the village . . . . Ill CHAPTER IX MATTERS MATRIMONIAL IN MEKEO AND RORO Use of feathers — Continued relationship — Negotiations for marriage — The ceremony — Ceremonial observances — Polygamy — Divorce — The Roro district . . . ... 127 CHAPTER X RORO AND MEKEO DANCING AND MEKEO WAR FEASTS The village club-house— Head ornaments — A novel ornament — Native copyright law— Decorations of dancers — Dance music — Women dancers— Records of valour— A warlike Parade — Con- ferring decorations — The Kefe and Iofo . ... 137 CHAPTER XI MEKEO FUNERAL AND MOURNING CUSTOMS AND RELIGIOUS BELIEFS AND PRACTICES Burial— The ipangava— Mourning dress — Termination of mourning — Sorcerers— Sorcerers' snakes — Sorcerers' methods— Magic men 151 CONTENTS CHAPTER XII ENTERING THE MOUNTAIN DISTRICT— LAPEKA PAGE The carrier difficulty — Angabunga valley — Lapeka village — Paying the carriers — Trading — Women carriers — A cannibal tribe — A piece of luck — A deserted village — Ido-Ido — Duplicate villages — Making the best of it . . 163 CHAPTER XIII IN THE MOUNTAIN DISTRICT— IDO-IDO— THE KUNI PEOPLE The Kuni people — A physical peculiarity — Decorations — Cannibals — Primitive social system — The club-house — A curious custom — Wireless telegraphv — Preparing for a feast — The effects of a feast— Bluff . .' . . . 177 CHAPTER XIV THE MOUNTAIN DISTRICT— DILAVA—MAFULU Dilava — Malaria — " Malarial Boils '' — Primitive folk — Birds of Paradise — Fear of sorcery — Discomforts — Deva-deva — Mission station at Mafulu — A punitive expedition — Character of the natives — Illness — Interesting work . . 191 CHAPTER XV THE MAFULU PEOPLE Decorations — Staining the face — Food and drink — Bags and hammocks — The houses — The clan system — Taboos — Ceremonies and functions — Offences and punishments . . . 208 CHAPTER XVI THE MAFULU PEOPLE— contiuutd Property — Inheritance — Warfare — Hunting — Net-hunting — Trap- hunting — Birds — Fishing — Weirs . ... 220 CHAPTER XVTI THE MAFULU PEOPLE— continued Yams — Lack of artistic ideas — Music — Songs — Dancing— Counting and numbers . . . ... 233 CONTENTS CHAPTER XVIII THE MAFULU BIG FEAST PAGE Preparations — Formal invitation — The burial platform — The feast day — The ceremonies — The dance — Pig-killing — The purifica- tion — Devastation . . . ... 244 CHAPTER XIX CEREMONIES AND PRACTICES The perineal band — Right to dance — Making the drum — Nose- piercing — Marriage — Infant betrothal — Runaway marriages — The chieftainship . . . ... CHAPTER XX DEATH AND FUNERAL CEREMONIES Death — The funeral — Mourning — The grave — Removal of mourn- ing — A dying chief — A chief's grave — Funeral of a chief — De- sertion of the village — Chiefs' wives . ... 269 CHAPTER XXI RELIGION AND SORCERY Ghoets — Spirits — Haunted spots — Magic men and sorcerers — Ail- ments — Wounds — Inferior magic men — Omens . . . 280 CHAPTER XXII CONCLUSION An uncomfortable journey — Kind friends— Tropical heat— Scrub- itch— Ants — Medical treatment— A fascinating study — Pleasant recollections . . . ... 291 Index . . . ... 301 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Mekeo Men in Dancing Decorations Two Rubiana Woman . A Rubiana Man with Shield and Spear Woman of the Rubiana Village of Bullaui Sychele Woman and Children A House in the Rubiana Village of Sychele Two Kulambangra Women and Child A Rubiana Man and Boy Shrine of a Dead Chief in Sychele Memorial Image of a Dead Chief in Sychele Taboo Mark in Kulambangra Protecting Coco-nut Trees Tattoo Marks Mekeo Girls in Dancing Petticoats A Mekeo House in Course of Construction A Mekeo Village Club-House A Family Club-House in Mekeo . Mekeo Men in Dancing and War Decorations Mekeo Men in War Decorations . Mekeo Men in Dancing Decorations A Mekeo Village Club-House The Village of Lapeka . Lapeka People ' Men of Ido-Ido A Mekeo Village Frontispiece PAGE 22 32 38 38 40 52 60 G6 68 68 112 114 118 118 122 134 134 144 156 160 16G 172 182 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Village of Deva-Deva Deva-Deva Women Mekeo Girls . Illness Cape- . A Suspension Bridge A Mafulu Village Dead Pigs at a Mafulu " Big Feast " A Mafulu Club-House Mafulu Graves Mafulu Women Mafulu Women Collecting .Sweet Potatoes Yam Planting in Mafulu Mafulu Girls in Dancing Decorations Scene Prior to a Mafulu u Big Feast " Preparations for a Perineal Band Feast A Mafulu Village Mafulu Women Beating Out Bark Cloth A Group of Mafulu At the Spring TAGM 182 200 200 210 210 212 216 222 222 226 230 230 240 246 256 272 272 276 276 j. THE WAYS OF THE \ SOUTH SEA SAVAGE CHAPTER I THE RUBIANA LAGOON Many people at home are hardly aware that the Solo- mon Islands of the South-West Pacific are a group about 600 miles in length, and include seven large islands and an enormous number of small ones, and that, though there is a great physical similarity between the people of the whole group, and their languages are closely related, yet in matters of social organization, culture, technology and religious beliefs and ceremonies there are great differences, not only between the inhabitants of the various islands, but sometimes even between those of the same island. New Georgia is one of the larger islands, near the middle of the group, and on its southern shore is the Rubiana Lagoon, a long, irregular channel, with the main island for its northern shore and a labyrinth of small islands and coral reefs enclosing it to the south, and partially shutting it in at each end to the east and west. The Rubiana district is, as one would expect, extremely beautiful. It also has a special interest as being the home of one of the most powerful of the old head-hunting tribes of the group. From time immemorial the Rubiana people have b 17 18 ;;•;: HEAD . HUNTERS been a terror to the other natives of the Solomon Islands within a distance of a hundred miles or more. They used to go off in fleets of their great war canoes, ravaging the coasts in all directions, and bringing home large numbers of prisoners and heads of men, women and children, with which to do honour to their chiefs and to the ghosts of the great departed, to decorate their canoe houses, and for other ceremonial purposes. The Govern- ment has now been able to put a stop to the practice ; but this was only accomplished quite recently, and these Rubiana people are still extremely primitive, but little changed from what they were, undoubted cannibals, and most interesting to the traveller. Their mode and ideas of life have been very little modified anywhere, and in most of the villages they still remain unchanged. The people submit to our restraining government, because they are obliged to do so ; but they do not do it willingly ; they resent the presence of the white man ; and I am convinced that, if they had the power, they would not hesitate to clear off every one from their islands, and return to their customs of head-hunting, wholesale canni- balism and savagery, as of yore. When at Gizo, the magisterial and trading station of the Central Solomons, I had, through the kindness of Mr. Norman Wheatley, a trading coco-nut planter, who has established himself on the New Georgian coast near to the Lagoon, an opportunity of seeing something of its people. He took me from Gizo to his plantation in his boat, a comical little vessel, not much larger than a whale boat, with a box-shaped deck cabin extending nearly its whole length, above which stretched a gabled awning, m a king the boat look like a miniature Noah's ark. The ISLAND TRADERS 19 cabin contained the little engine and was used for carry- ing stores, and its roof was the place on which we sat (the awning rendering an erect attitude impossible), had our meals and slept at night. I shall never forget that little sea voyage in this boat ; for, though I had already seen coral islands on the passage from Australia, this was the first time I had ever been actually among the reefs ; and it was amazing to see how Mr. Wheatley had to make his little craft twist and twirl, backward and forward, in and out, as he traced his way through the intricate, and often tiny channels, the submerged reefs which they separated being to me sometimes quite invisible. These island planters and traders live under conditions which are difficult for folk at home to realize, and Mr. Wheatley's establishment was a good representative example. Far away from even the simple civilization of Gizo (itself merely a tiny group of wooden houses, with a single general store), with no other white man anywhere near, with a native wife and half-caste children, some quite dark, with a bevy of native servants working on the estate, and for neighbours the people of the villages around, almost as primitive as they were a hundred years ago, Mr. Wheatley was a person of great power and influence in his district, in which he had been established for many years, and where he had several coco-nut planta- tions. Native chiefs and leading people came to him from villages many miles away to consult him in their diffi- culties and troubles ; and these at the period of my visit were grave and numerous, for there was much restlessness and lawlessness in the district, many murders were occur- 20 MURDERS ring, and the people were ever in dread of what might happen next, more especially of Government punishment, in which perhaps the innocent might suffer with the guilty. Mr. Wheatley told me something of all this during our sail, and I had not to wait long after arrival at his house for confirmation of it. That same evening a chief and two other people of the Marovo Lagoon, on the north-east shore of New Georgia, came to tell him that a white man had been murdered there a day or two before. They were much perturbed about it, and there were prolonged consultations that evening and on the following day, Mr. Wheatley trying to ascertain exactly what had occurred. These people brought him shields and other things as presents, offerings evidently intended to stimu- late his activity in getting matters put right ; but he refused to accept them. On the following day came news of another murder (the victim this time being a native), which had occurred within a couple of miles of the house ; and afterwards, during my stay among these islands, other murders in the immediate neighbourhood were reported. It was obvious to me that even Mr. Wheatley himself, with all his influence, w r as by no means safe, and that any day might bring disaster upon him ; indeed within only a year or two before my visit his head had been regarded by more than one powerful native enemy as a prospective decoration to a village club-house, and might at any time become one. A few days after our arrival matters occurred which com- pelled Mr. Wheatley to go back immediately to Gizo ; but he placed some of his native men entirely at my service, and let me have the use of his boats, so that, though I had ALONE WITH SAVAGES 21 not the advantage of a white companion, who could be my guide and interpreter, and explain things to me, I was able to see something of the Rubiana villages. I had never before had experience of solitary travel amongst uncivilized savages, and I am not ashamed to admit that at first, when I found myself alone in their villages, the nearest white man far away, I wondered whether I was acting wisely, especially in view of the very disturbed condition of the district. The extreme interest of my surroundings, however, soon drove away all such thoughts ; also I knew that my association with Mr. YVheatley was a passport ; and, though it did not ensure absolute safety, for, as I have said, he himself was not free from danger, I believed that I was only running a fair business risk, and that the game was well worth the candle. In obedience, however, to Mr. Wheatley's imperative in- structions, I always, not only here, but in all my wander- ings among the Solomons, carried my pistol (a seven-shot Mauser) loaded, at full cock and ready to use at a second's notice ; and this was a great protection, more especially as the risk was not so much one of a combined attack upon me as of an act of individual hooliganism. At first I contented myself with day trips in a rowing- boat along the coral-girt coast, landing whenever I passed a village ; and I took with me two of Mr. Wheatley's men ; they were only Rubiana natives, and, as one of them could not speak or understand a word of English, and the pidgin English of the other was extremely limited and difficult to understand, they were not able to give me much inform- ation. The villages were but few, though the many long lines of old coco-nut plantations indicated that in days gone by 22 THE RUB1ANA PEOPLE there must have been many others ; for, whenever there is a plantation of old palms, it is a sure sign that there is, or has been, a native village there, or not far off. In these short excursions I was always received by the people with absolute friendliness, but unfortunately my conversation with them was necessarily mainly confined to signs and gestures. And here let me say something about the appearance of these Rubiana people and their surroundings. Their average stature is about 5 ft. 4 in. They are generally strongly, though not heavily built ; the colour of their skin is dark brown, and their frizzy hair is black. In countenance they are generally sinister, and they often have an underhand, treacherous expression, which does not tend to increase one's faith in them ; this indeed is well in accord with their character, for a Solomon Islander will rarely meet an antagonist face to face in open hostility, if he can get a chance of secretly stealing up to him and striking him down from behind. The clothing of the men is usually a perineal band, that is, a band of native bark cloth, tied round the waist and passed between the legs. The women's clothing is a piece of bark cloth stretched tightly over the buttocks behind, passing between the legs, and rolled up into a sort of bunch in front, the whole being kept in position by attach- ment, front and back, to a band tied round the waist ; to this is sometimes added a tiny apron hanging down in front. Their ornaments are few and simple — much more so than I afterwards found them to be in parts of New Guinea ; as a rule their only decorations are necklaces of string or cloth, the former often strung with beads, dogs' teeth, THEIR DECORATIONS 23 or anything else that takes their fancy, and armlets, made of single shells cut into rings or of plaited fibre (the latter being generally very tight) though some have, hanging over their breasts, crescent-shaped sections of large pearly oyster-like shells, or flat pieces of shell, cut like fretwork into quite pretty, and sometimes elaborate, designs. I never saw ornaments on their legs, which to me was surprising. Their hair is usually worn in a more or less unkempt mop ; cutting it close or shaving it off is a sign of mourn- ing, and old women often do this even when not in mourn- ing. There is a practice common here, as elsewhere in Melanesia, of applying to their hair lime paste, which at first makes it white, but afterwards turns it to a light brown hue, undoubtedly a wholesome antidote to vermin. The lobes of their ears are usually bored when they are children, and into the holes so produced are inserted pieces of shell, which are from time to time, as the children grow older, replaced by larger ones, until the holes have been so stretched as to admit of the insertion of ornamental discs three inches in diameter; but generally these are worn only on special occasions, and so the lobes commonly hang down as pendent fleshy rings. Of tattooing I saw nothing. It is in fact very little done in the New Georgia Islands, though it is met with in others of the Solomon group. The men do not usually carry arms within their own villages ; but they seemed always to do so when walking along the shore, probably a very necessary precaution in a spot where human life is held very cheap. Their weapons are generally either spears, adzes (what travellers in these 24 THE HOUSES parts commonly call " tomahawks "), or European axes and shields, the latter, which are about three or four feet long and one foot broad, being made of bamboo frames, strongly lashed together, and filled up with a groundwork or thatching of leaves or grass. The villages do not appear to be built on any definite scheme, the houses being scattered about irregularly, usually among the palm trees, a little way back from the shore, so that the palms and undergrowth beneath conceal them from the view of anyone approaching from the sea. They are built on the ground (not on piles), and are all very similar in construction, each one being oblong in shape, with a gabled roof, one gable end being the front of the house and usually facing seawards. In general con- struction it is a framework of timber, filled in with lath- work fixed inside it, and clothed with leaves of palms or grasses. The entrance, which is usually at the front gable end, is generally the only opening to the building, but occa- sionally there is also a small window opening in one of the side walls. Many of the houses have, projecting forwards from the front gable end, a semicircular, or almost semi- circular, apse-like addition, closed in with vertical sides, and having a fan-shaped roof, sloping downwards from the front end of the ridge pole, or below it. Other houses have instead a more or less rectangular pent roof, sloping down from the front gable end ; but these are not en- closed by walls, and in fact are really outside verandahs. Inside the better houses are one or two platforms, raised about a foot from the ground, and used for sitting or lying upon by day and sleeping on at night, and at the further end is a partition, carried part way across the interior of the building, behind which, as I gathered, the women FRIENDLY NATIVES 25 sleep. There are generally a few rough mats on the floor, and one, made of woven grass, hanging over the entrance opening. My visit to a more distant village was paid in a con- tinuous downpour of rain, which drove me for shelter into the houses, and brought me into closer contact with the people. To a novice like myself this first entry into the house of a cannibal native was a curious experience. At first it seemed to be pitch dark, and I could see nothing ; then little by little I became conscious of many bright eyes looking at me out of the darkness, and then of dim moving forms, which gradually developed into men, women and children, almost as guiltless of clothing as on the days of their births. It was a rather weird experience ; but, though the people crowded closely round me, they were perfectly friendly, and I soon got upon easy terms with them. My little pocket compass was an object of great wonder, for, though I did not attempt to give them a lesson in polar magnetism, they had wit enough to realize that, however I moved the compass about, the needle afterwards swung round and pointed always in the same direction. A still greater joy to them was my pocket magnify ing- glass. Under my instructions they looked through it at their hands, at hairs from their heads, at pieces of clcth, seeds, shells, everything they could get hold of ; and in- deed, so popular was this new wonder-toy that I began to fear that I should not be able to get it back again. These things would undoubtedly be regarded by the people as implements of magic, and would necessarily enhance the importance and presumable power of the man who possessed and manipulated them. In one of the houses I was entertained with what I must 26 A CONCERT respectfully call a concert. The people produced three native bamboo flutes, nearly four feet long. Each of them had a hole near one end, into which the performer blew, and three stop -holes lower down ; and with these they were able to produce a fair variety of notes. When the three flutes were being played together, the effect of their combined long-drawn-out wailing notes was very strange, and the special darkness of the house in which the players and the other people, by whom I was sur- rounded, could only be dimly seen, made it seem even more so. I confess that for a moment its effect upon my imagination was almost too much for my nerves, so utterly was I, notwithstanding my pistol, at the mercy of these wild, barely visible people who crowded around me. I was told that the pipes were played as accompaniments to songs at feasts, so I persuaded an elderly ruffian of most villainous countenance to add his voice to the music of the pipes. The general effect of his singing was rather like that of a very simple Gregorian chant ; there were not many notes, and generally each of them was prolonged, sometimes for quite a long time ; but now and again a great many words came out, patter-like, upon one note. The old man certainly had a true musical ear, for he never once made a false note, and during quite a long, continuous song he did not, so far as I could judge, drift out of his original key by a perceptible fraction of a note ; and the pipes were not very much support to him, for I was able to recognize but little connection between their notes and his voice. Having seen the villages of the near vicinity, I was ready to go off on a little expedition further afield towards the east. The scheme was to join a small open schooner A PLEASANT TRIP 27 belonging to Mr. Wheatley, which was sailing in that direction, taking with me a large open boat, to be towed behind the schooner, and five native attendants, one of whom — Pana by name — was much more intelligent, and knew more pidgin English than my previous interpreter, and for me and my men and impedimenta, when opposite the position of the village which I proposed to visit first, to cast off in the boat, leaving the schooner to sail on its way. For this it was obviously necessary that I should travel light ; so, discarding tent, bed, camp furniture, mosquito net and other travelling comforts, I contented myself with changes of clothing, some tinned meat, biscuits, jam and tea, a billy-can for boiling water, a bottle of whisky, tobacco and matches, some " trade " tobacco and other things for presents to the people whom I was to visit, a few medicines, my gun and pistol, some ammunition and my photographic things. I put my faith in Providence as regarded sleeping arrangements and the nightly atten- tions of the mosquitoes. We started off early in the morning, the party on board consisting of ten Rubiana men (five of them my attendants and the others the men who were sailing the schooner) and myself. It was evident that Mr. Wheatley had trained his men well in navigating the schooner ; but I have noticed in other places how readily the Solomon Islanders seem to take to things relating to the sea. There was only a slight breeze, so our progress was slow ; however, I did not regret it, as I loved this silent gliding along the narrow channels between the reefs in an earthly paradise of beauty, undis- turbed by the machinery of a steamer, or the rhythmic clanking of the oars of a rowing boat ; indeed I do not think that the enchantment of the islands ever took 28 A CHARMING SCENE possession of me more than it did in this never-to-be-for- gotten sail. I lay in the schooner lazily watching the brilliantly coloured and often strange-shaped fishes darting about beneath me, and gazing at the ever-changing pano- rama of palm groves, with the tropical sky above them and the golden sands and reefs and green lagoons beneath, and an atmosphere shimmering in the heat of an almost equatorial sun. This is not the place to explain the formation of these coral islands, the atoll, with its circle of surf-beaten reef surrounding the placid lagoon lake within, the barrier reef, surrounding the land enclosed by it, but with a lagoon channel between them, and the fringing reef forming the seashore of the land itself, and destitute of lagoon ; but I may say that the two former are as a rule infinitely more lovely than the latter. Neither pen nor brush can do justice to the beauty of a barrier-reefed island. The dark blue ocean is for ever beating on the reef ; when the sea is rough, the waves are lashing it with fury, and often dashing over it into the lagoon beyond ; or when the sea is very calm it laps sooth- ingly and sleepily with a gentle murmur upon the foamless reef. Within is the lagoon, a sparkling sheet of brilliant milky emerald green, for, though the sea outside the reef may be many fathoms deep, the lagoon beyond that narrow fringe of coral is very shallow. See it in rough weather, when the reef is fringed with a girdle of foam, and the barrier between the open sea and the placid lake within is sometimes barely visible. See it in the full light of a blaz- ing tropical sun ; the scintillating waters of the lagoon, separated only by a tiny thread of grey from the deep- coloured sea around it, and with a margin of bright golden CORAL REEFS 29 sand behind, seem almost electric in the brilliancy of their colouring. Then picture the groves of lofty coco-nut palms, some perhaps on the reef, many on the land within the lagoon channel behind its yellow shore, lifting their long, swaying stems high up into the sky, and there burst- ing out rocket-like into whorls of feathery leaves, with delicate tracery standing out against the heavens. Go again at sunset, when the waters of the sea are often a kaleidoscope of reds and yellows, purples and maroons, and when a western brilliance of red and orange is the back- ground against which the tracery of the palms stands out clear-cut and dark. It often happens that the most lovely things in nature are also the most dangerous, and of few things can this be said more truly than of coral reefs. Those of the South- West Pacific are but imperfectly charted, except in the tracks of regular lines of steamers ; and, even when clearly and correctly mapped, it is often most difficult to navigate a steamer, and still more a sailing craft, through their labyrinthine intricacies. At night you dare not try, except in spots where the known channels between the reefs are broad and well defined. But there are many places which, even in full daylight, call for the utmost watchfulness and caution, and are dangerous, however care- fully navigated ; for there are often swift currents among these reefs, and they themselves are frequently submerged. The practised eye can generally detect the presence of a submerged reef by noting the difference between the lighter colour of the shallow water beyond it and the deeper, darker sea in front ; but, when the sea itself is very shallow, this difference is sometimes very slight, and not easily observed. Hence many wrecks occur, even the boat by 30 CORAL REEFS which I sailed from Sydney to the Solomons — an old one, which had sailed these seas for many years — having got on a reef three times within the previous eighteen months. And the waters here are not desirable for even the shortest swim for life, as they are full of sharks. CHAPTER II the rubiana lagoon — continued In the afternoon the wind dropped absolutely, and there was nothing for it but to let go the anchor and wait. This gave me an opportunity of going ashore with my men, visiting a village and adding to my collection of photo- graphs. The attitude of the simple Rubiana people to- wards the camera was variable. Very few indeed had ever seen such a thing before, or knew what it meant, and some of them were frightened, the women sometimes rushing with loud shrieks into the bush. But I rarely had difficulty in getting groups. I found it a good plan to direct the camera to some distinctive object, and persuade some brave souls to put their heads under the cloth and see the picture on the focussing plate. This was the cause of wild excitement ; and these bolder spirits then aided me in inducing someone to stand before the camera, which en- couraged others also to do so ; I generally managed to get up a little chaff and fun, and so, good relationship between me and them being thus established, all fears vanished, and I had no further trouble. I am sure the people often realized in a general way that I was making pictures of them, though I suspect their idea was that the picture which they saw was that which would remain. At times so popular has been the camera, that for the sake of justice and peace I have had solemnly to photograph everybody, and thus produce general content - 31 32 PHOSPHORESCENT FISHES ment, unalloyed by knowledge of the fact that in many cases the operation was but a dummy one. I was in this village further removed from Wheatley's plantation than before, and my tea-basket and its contents, which had previously been regarded with comparative in- difference, were here the objects of much curiosity ; and so I afterwards found it to be in other Rubiana villages. We remained at anchor all that night ; and the contemplation, as night closed in, of the sunset effects in sky and on sea and the palm-clad reefs around me was a fitting ending to a memorable day. That night there was a fine display of phosphorescence in the sea, but it was quite different from the phenomenon as we know it at home. The spectacle was one of numerous large single stars of brilliant phosphorescent light, which appeared in all directions around us, all apparently coming to the surface like illuminated bubbles from below, darting along the surface of the water, and then vanishing, leaving behind them fiery trails, which again on disappearing were followed by new stars, apparently forming at the ends of the trails. I am unable to say with certainty what is the explanation of the phenomenon, but from enquiries made since my return home I think that what I saw were prob- ably Scopelid fishes of some form. Most of these inhabit the lower depths of the sea, but some of them have a habit of coming to the surface to feed at night ; and, as Nature has endowed them, as she has done many other deep-sea inhabitants, with phosphorescent organs, wherewith to light their way in the sunless abysses of the ocean, their hunting expeditions to the surface might well produce the fine spectacular display which it was my good fortune to witness. > I • • ' ■ A Rubiana Man with Shield and Spear The building in the background is the village ■' club-house," ^f^o^^rf no/ ^owed visitors are lodged ; they are also used for ceremonial observances ; women are not to enter, or, as a rule, to pass in front of them. A TROPICAL THUNDERSTORM 33 A little breeze enabled us to start off again early on the following morning, and carried us to the open sea, where there was a fair wind ; but again it dropped completely ; so, after waiting for some time, the schooner rolling about on the waves with lazily flapping sails, I decided to leave her to her idle ease, and I and my five men took to the boat, cast off from the schooner, and began rowing towards the labyrinth of reef-girt islands, beyond which was the inlet where lurked Sychele, the village which I proposed to visit first. I had some difficulty in persuading the men to start. They said it was a long way off, spoke darkly of the ap- proaching evening, of hidden reefs, of the difficulty of finding the way, of the chances of losing ourselves, and possible disasters ; but I was convinced that it was all an excuse to avoid the extra labour of beginning our rowing earlier than we had intended ; so I insisted upon our going, and regarded the fact that they gave way as a hopeful augury for the future. We had a lively time before we reached the islands, for, after about half an hour's rowing, a tropical thunderstorm burst upon us, with a racing wind and deluges of rain, and the sea, which a minute before had been like glass, became very rough. This lasted for an hour and a half, during which we were continually shipping great quantities of water ; but my four rowers stuck valiantly to their oars, and Pana, who knew the district, being at the helm, I occupied myself with the humble, but very necessary, task of continually bailing out, and it was as much as I could do to keep pace with the constant flooding of the boat. The storm abated as suddenly as it had commenced, the wind and rain ceasing simultaneously, and the sun coming out again ; though still the heaving waves assured me c 34 AN IMPRESSIVE SIGHT that it had indeed been a stern reality, and not a horrid dream. Most of the barrier reefs which I had seen were low, narrow, grey ridges, with but little vegetation, save a few palms growing singly or in groups ; and the lagoon channels beyond them were margined on their further shores with stretches of coral sands. The first island we reached was therefore somewhat of a surprise to me. Its coral margin was thickly clothed with tangled trees, bush and under- growth, and I thought it was a fringing reef ; but, as we skirted it, I got glimpses of water within ; and soon gaps in the vegetation disclosed a lovely lagoon channel thickly shut in on both sides — the mainland of the island on one side and the reef on the other — by dense masses of trees and vegetation ; it looked just like a dark, broad river slowly meandering through a South American tropical forest — truly a beautiful and impressive sight. I longed to land and investigate it, but the great waves dashing upon the reef would have knocked our boat to pieces if we had attempted it ; and, though we twice saw what appeared to be openings in the reef, they were so narrow, and appar- ently so shallow, that an effort to steer through them on a rising wave would probably have ended in a wreck or the breaking of our boat's back. The tufa-like margin of the reef sloped irregularly down to the sea, and every downward roll of the swell laid bare a garden of living, branching corals — red, blue, yellow, green, purple and brown — clinging like anemones to the rock, and away below us we could dimly see this garden continuing downwards until lost to sight. This was my first introduction to the living coral, though I often saw it after- wards. A pretty feature about these reefs of living coral, CLUB-HOUSES 35 which I also saw for the first time this day, is the multi- tudes of tiny fish of various colours, but mostly a brilliant blue or bluish-green, which play about among the coral branches on the reef. How, with a sea such as we had that day, they escape being dashed to pieces on the reef is to me a mystery. In spite of Pana's warnings we reached Sychele shortly before four, which more than ever convinced me that I had rightly understood his motive for objecting. It is customary in most parts of the Solomon Islands to have in the villages what ethnologists call ' ; club-houses,'* which, indeed, they are, but they are a great deal more besides. They are the centres of the social life of the people ; it is on their platforms that the men sit and talk ; it is there that important questions are generally discussed ; the bachelors of the villages sleep in them ; visitors arriving at a village must, unless they are prepared to meet with a very bad reception, immediately make their way to the club-house to explain the purpose of their visit, and are generally lodged in it. The club-houses are usually also the centres of ceremonial observances, both social and superstitious, and are often closely associated with many of the solemn religious ideas of the people. They are, of course, much larger than the ordinary houses, and in many districts they are strangely and fantastically decorated. In some of the coastal districts, and especially those of the old head-hunting areas, such as the Rubiana Lagoon, the large canoe houses, in which were kept the great war canoes, were the club-houses ; and they are so still, though in most places their warlike use has been stopped by the restraining hand of the white man. Great importance is attached to these club-houses ; women are 36 NATIVE ETIQUETTE not allowed to enter, or, in most islands, even pass along the beach in front of them, and the completion of a new club-house was, until recently, in many places (including Rubiana) the occasion for a special feast, in which victims were killed and eaten, their bones being afterwards hung up in the house ; though this cannibalistic feature is now more or less prevented by the Government. On landing at Sychele, therefore, I and my attendants, in obedience to the requirements of native etiquette, walked up to the village club-house, in which were squatted a considerable number of practically naked men — all most villainous of countenance. They scowled at us, but did not speak, nor to my surprise did Pana ; so for a minute or two the two parties faced each other in silence. It was clearly our duty to open the conversation, which upon my suggestion Pana did. Thereupon a babel of voices broke out ; and Pana, in answer to my enquiry, told me that they said they did not want a white man there, and were angry with him for having brought me. This was not encouraging ! I had anticipated that Pana would be able to deal with this portion of our travelling duties, and was rather taken aback at having to do it myself ; but with his assistance as interpreter I managed to make them understand that I had merely come to see them and their village, and wished to be friendly with them ; and this, coupled with a display of smiling geniality, and the pulling out of my pocket of some matches and tobacco, immedi- ately produced the desired effect, afterwards enhanced by a distribution of largesse. We were then all smiling at one another, except one of the Sychele men, who, I after- wards found, was the chief of the district, and whose countenance never once relaxed its severity during my MY NATIVE QUARTERS 37 visit to the village. It is possible that he was only main- taining the dignitv of his office, as in his treatment of me he was in other respects as friendly as the others. I had that night my first experience of sleeping alone in a village of savages. There was a good deal of rain, and the boat, which was only an open one, and had not even a plank flooring, was not a desirable bed ; so, with the permission of the chief, I and my men took possession of an unoccupied native house standing by the edge of the sea, and made it our home and sleeping quarters during our stay in the village. My house was somewhat separated from most of the other houses of the village, being under an overhanging coastal rock immediately by the edge of the water, which lapped against a rude platform of branches a few feet wide in front of the house ; but there were some other native houses immediately to my left. Privacy in this doorless house was of course impossible, and whenever I was having a meal there, which I always did sitting on my tea-basket in the doorway, my little narrow platform was occupied by a group of practically naked men and women, hedging me closely in, and eagerly watching and discussing my every movement. I was not sorry for this, as I felt that their attitude towards me was friendlv, verv different from what it had been on my first appearance in the village, and a specially good sign was the freedom with which the women approached me. When I had lighted and begun to smoke my pipe (evidently a performance most interesting to them), and evening closed in, and there was apparently no further variety entertainment in prospect, the group melted away, and left me to commune with nature and my thoughts. 38 AMUSING MISUNDERSTANDING The scene was very lovely : sea in front of me, a palm- clad island dimly seen beyond it, on each side nothing but rocks, palms and thick vegetation, and everywhere brilliant stars : stars in the sky, stars (fireflies) flitting in all directions among the rocks and trees and undergrowth, and stars (phosphorescent) in sheets at my feet at every plash of the waves, and a great quiet ; for this was only a small unsophisticated village, and there w r as not the noise of voices, sometimes increased by drum beating, which often pervades the darkening evening air in one of the big villages of the New Guinea plains. The thoughts were pleasant too ; I was having my first lesson in the sort of life I should probably have to lead, if I carried out my wish of trying to get among the mountain people of New Guinea ; and, in spite of its roughness and discomforts, I felt that I could go through with it. On the evening before my first night in Sychele I had an amusing illustration of the difficulty of getting natives to understand orders. I had brought with me from the schooner a small supply of wholesome water, but, not trusting Pana, I adopted the precaution, even with this water, of personally seeing that it was really boiling, before the tea was put into it. Pana, therefore, brought me the boiling water in its billy-can, into which, though I wanted only a single drink, he had put enough of the pre- cious liquid to last for a day. He smilingly expressed his complete understanding of my reproof of this wastefulness ; but, instead of returning some of the water to its original store-can, he simply threw it away upon the shore ! We, on the other hand, must often, in the eyes of the natives, seem equally obtuse and foolish in our ignorance of their customs. On one occasion, wishing one of them to ROUGH ACCOMMODATION 39 come to me, I beckoned to him in the ordinary European way ; he gazed at my antics in mute astonishment, and indeed may well have thought that my mind was some- what deranged. I learnt my lesson, however, and my sub- sequent beckonings with the palm of my hand facing down- wards, and all the fingers moving, instead of only one, were well understood. The nature of my accommodation was not palatial ; but travelling in these parts must not be attempted, unless one is prepared to rough it, and submit to its many inevitable trials and discomforts. A tiny oblong shed- like house, made out of rough branches of timber, with a thatching of palm leaves on its roof, an entrance (but of course no door) in the middle of one of its side walls, no floor, but two platforms of branches (one on each side of the doorway) raised about three feet above the ground, though simple, is quite as good a resting-place as is often procurable by those who enjoy Bohemian tramps in England ; and a rug goes a long way towards relieving the bones of the sleeper from the discomfort of the unyielding framework of the platform, and prevents any little articles which he has by his side from tumbling down between the branches on to the ground beneath. In other respects, however, I had to confess to myself that my sleeping quarters were not ideal. The close proximity during the night of five dirty unclad natives did not add to its luxury, more especially during my first night, when one of them was seized with fever, and had to be dosed with Epsom salts and quinine, and comforted, until his groans abated, by the oft-repeated assurance that I did not think he was going to die, an episode which occurred again on the following night, and in my subse- 40 MOSQUITOES AND SAND FLIES quent travels became a fairly frequent one. Then the mosquitoes and sand flies ! I had often suffered from both of these before ; but this was my first experience of sleep- ing without a net in a place which was badly infested. The floor beneath the platform was a pool of filthy, stag- nant water, a perfect breeding ground for mosquitoes ; and the presence of six hot and perspiring human beings was doubtless an attraction for their friends outside. The air was full of the creatures ; they and the sand flies worried us unceasingly the whole night long, and made peaceful sleeping well-nigh impossible. I have twice since then been in places on the New Guinea coast which were just as bad ; but in these places I was protected, at all events when my time for sleeping came, by a defensive net. Then the necessity for sleeping with a loaded pistol close to hand is at first a curious experience to a peaceful, law- abiding citizen, whose defensive measures for the night have hitherto been confined to locking the house doors. As regards this I may say, however, that it is a situation to which you soon accustom yourself, a few uneventful guarded nights being quite enough to dispel the fancies which at first are apt to be stimulated by the very fact of taking precautionary measures. I soon forgot that the nearest white man was many miles away. I had a most interesting stay at Sychele, going about among the people and examining their dress and orna- ments, their houses, canoes and implements. They appeared to be on a scale of culture somewhat lower than that of their western neighbours, whom I had previously seen ; their canoes had little or no decoration, and I saw but few fretted shell ornaments. Also thev were further STONE AGE PEOPLE 41 from Mr. Wheatley's establishment, and, as might be expected, their adzes and boring tools were generally fitted only with the stone blades and points of days gone by, whereas with the other people iron had been pretty generally, though not entirely, substituted. The voyage home along the lagoon to Wheatley's house occupied three days, the start being made each day very early in the morning, and it gave me opportunities of visiting a few more villages, and still further acquainting myself with the ways and customs of the people. We sometimes had difficulty in finding fresh water, which meant no tea for me, no boiled rice for my men, and parched mouths and throats for us all. Our sleeping places in the two intervening nights were open canoe houses, much more comfortable and drier than the house at Sychele with its stagnant pool ; but I here had my first introduc- tion to another insect pest which inhabited the place in swarms — the tropical flying ant, and the acquaintance thus commenced subsequently developed into painful intimacy. We passed a number of native canoes, which again was a new experience ; one of them was a very large one with twenty rowers, but unfortunately it was not near enough for me to see whether it was one of the beautifully decor- ated war canoes ; another, occupied by four women, we overhauled, and my men bought from them some pepper leaves for betel chewing, paying for them with matches, of which I had given each a box. These seas swarm with sharks, though you do not very often see them ; but you would not be long in doing so if your boat upset. They seem to be creatures of great vitality One evening, when my boat from Sydney was anchored in 42 "PILOT" FISH a Solomon island bay, we succeeded in catching one with a meat-baited boat-hook attached to a rope, and his execution required three shots from a repeating rifle, fired at a few feet range straight dow r n the brute's throat, as he hung under the ship's gunwale. The sharks are sometimes accompanied by what are called " pilot" fish, a most curious companionship, seeing that the fish are merely tiny bright blue or greenish-blue creatures, of which the shark could snap up twenty or more at a mouthful. The fish swims immediately in front of the shark, whose nose almost touches its tail ; and the idea on which the name of the fish is based is that it guides the shark, as indeed the shark always seems to be closely following it in its sinuous course through the sea. Whether the shark really does follow the fish, or w r hether the fish for some unknown reason chooses to swim in this apparently perilous position, and is allowed by the shark to do so in safety, is a question which has not yet, I think, been answered, and, whichever is the case, one wonders what can be the motive. I have watched these pilot fishes care- fully from time to time, and may say that my impression is that it is the shark w r ho really governs the movements of the pair, the fish merely keeping in front of its nose. CHAPTER III KULAMBANGRA Kulambaxgra is an island about fifteen miles from Gizo harbour. It is a single volcanic peak, sloping down on all sides to the sea, and having an almost circular outline, its diameter averaging between fifteen and twenty miles. It is thickly wooded with almost impenetrable bush right down to the shore, and surrounded by an irregular barrier reef of coral. It is said by the natives there that at the top of the cone there is a great hollow with a lake in it, and this, of course, may well be true. Portions of the coast-line of the island have evidently in days gone by been somewhat thickly populated — wit- ness the old palm groves which fringe it. But inter- village conflicts (an example of which will be referred to later on) have driven many of the coast inhabitants into the interior, whither it is difficult and unsafe to follow them. There are still, however, native villages of extremely primitive people upon its shores and on the adjoining islets ; so I decided to till up my remaining spare time at Gizo with a trip to this island, and for this purpose I took as a com- panion a young Australian sailor, named Cruikshank, who had had some experience among natives in the Bismarck Archipelago, and was well versed in pidgin English. I chartered a small open cutter, and engaged three natives to accompany us ; and this time, as I proposed to camp in one spot, I took my tent and some camp outfit. 43 44 AN ADVENTURE The usual difficulties and delays arose in starting, so the afternoon was well advanced before we got off ; and, as our course to Kulambangra was through reef -strewn waters, and grave doubts were felt regarding the statement of one of the natives that he knew the reefs, much pressure was put upon me to postpone the crossing till the following day. I was anxious, however, not to lose half a day, and so I decided to go, a decision which, as will be seen, led to what might have proved a disastrous adventure. We soon found that our would-be pilot knew little or nothing of the reefs, and that we must depend upon our own vigilance to escape them. So long as it was fairly light this did not matter much ; but, as unfortunately an anticipated breeze did not arise, our progress was very slow, and, when dusk fell upon us, and the reefs became almost invisible, we were still a long way from our destina- tion. Afterwards a strong breeze arose, but it was too late, as I dared not run under sail in comparative darkness among the treacherous reefs, and so we hauled down the sail, and set our men to row. Then our troubles began. The men, who had anticipated an easy, restful crossing in a sailing boat, began after a little time at the oars to show signs of getting out of hand, and eventually one of them was impertinent to Cruikshank, who promptly went for him with a blow, which sent him down full length in the bottom of the boat. This was the signal for a row, and I had to draw my pistol on the next man, who started up and was making for me ; happily he went back again, and I had not to fire. The ethics of the treatment of natives by white men are not so simple and easy as many people who have never been out of England imagine. It goes without saying that TREATMENT OF THE NATIVE 45 you must try to be kind and considerate, and absolutely fair and just with them, and especially must not strike them ; and yet sometimes, on an emergency, forcible measures become almost a necessity, for, if you once let them think that you are afraid of them, and that they can treat you as they like, your influence and control over them are at an end. Cruikshank's blow was perhaps a mistake; and yet. if he had not struck it, I doubt if we should have been able to keep the men under control afterwards. My act in covering the other man with my pistol will doubtless cause horror to the minds of some kind-hearted readers, more especially as I admit frankly that, if the man had not stepped back, I should have fired, and should probably have killed him. It must be remembered, however, as regards both Cruikshank and myself, that we were alone with these three natives in an open boat upon a sea swarm- ing with sharks, with reefs all round us, that night was closing in, and that little incidents of mutiny such as we were experiencing are apt to end in disaster to the white man, and, indeed, have often done so. It is common knowledge that in days of old the treat- ment of natives by white men was shameful, and that in many places it is so still ; and no one can dispute the necessity of rigid control of these matters by our Govern- ment magistrates and officials. The old " damned nigger " idea was bad, but the more modern one of " a man and a brother," as commonly interpreted in England, is a foolish one, held largely by well-meaning humanitarians, who do not understand what they are talking about, having had no experience of living among and dealing with savages. And from what I have seen myself and heard from English- 46 AN UNCOxMFORTABLE PROSPECT men from the most diverse quarters of our possessions, I think that our English Government has caused the judicial pendulum to swing too far in this new direction, and that the tendency, at all events in some places, is to deny fair treatment to the white man. The Government attitude really seems at times to approach the old legal joke that a man must not kill a burglar till after the burglar has killed him. In my case, although I was acting absolutely and solely on the defensive, my very life being in peril, I shudder to think what would have been my judicial fate if I had killed the man. One thing at least I can say, we never once had any trouble with these men again. They were quite docile and obedient, and indeed showed that they absolutely respected us, whilst we on the other hand took care to be perfectly friendly with them, and avoided all reference to the regrettable little incident of the boat. It was dark when, after about six hours' sailing and row- ing, we reached Kulambangra. This may seem a long time within which to accomplish fifteen miles, but the distance actually traversed had been increased by the need for circumventing reefs, and, when we were among them in the waning light, the utmost caution had been needed, and our progress had been very slow. We were, however, by no means yet at our destination. We were still outside the reef, and had to find the entrance into the lagoon ; and, though we were pretty sure it was not far off, we did not know in which direction, east or west, to skirt the reef in search of it. Fortunately there was just enough light to enable us to distinguish the white gleam of the surf, as otherwise a search for the entrance would have been a hopeless business. We first went east, A PALM GROVE 47 moving slowly, as near to the reef as we dared, and eagerly looking for the break in the line of foam, which would indi- cate the opening. Then we tried west, and rowed, probably a mile or more, without finding it. I began to fear that we should have to remain all night in our boat outside the reef, an uncomfortable prospect, as the sea was too deep for our anchor rope, and drifting would probably have ended in disaster on a reef ; so the only alternative would have been continuous gentle rowing, which might have ended in another mutiny. But, just as I was reaching the point of despair, we hit upon the opening, and in a few minutes more we were safely moored to the shore in the placid waters of the lagoon, where Cruikshank and I spent the night in the boat, the men being allowed to go ashore to sleep. We were up betimes next morning, landed our stores, pitched our tent close to the beach in a palm grove, and made things shipshape for our stay there. A coco-nut palm grove is a charming place in which to encamp ; but I would advise anyone who does so to be just a little careful as he wanders about the grove, and not to linger unduly under a very tall palm with a bunch of large ripe yellow nuts hanging from it. These nuts have a habit of coming down with a crash ; and once during my stay in Kulambangra a very large falling nut only missed my head by about a foot. If it had struck me it would assuredly have cracked my skull, and this and somewhat similar experiences in other places made me cautious. There was no village close to our encampment, but there were a few native houses not far off, and within a few hours, the news of our arrival having become known, we were honoured with visits from people of a neighbouring village. 48 IMPRESSING THE NATIVES Cruikshank, in his anxiety to impress these people, placed an empty meat tin on a rocky promontory a short distance away and invited me to show them the destructive powers of my shot-gun. I make no pretence of being a practised shot, but the distance rendered the experiment a fairly safe one, and I brought the tin down. The audience were visibly impressed, and this impelled Cruikshank to place the tin at a distance almost out of range, at which the chances of a hit were somewhat remote ; but there it was, and there were the people watching, so there was nothing for it but to face the ordeal, and by extraordinary luck I hit the tin again. I was in consequence treated with marked respect during the whole of my stay among these people, and even our three attendants, who were well acquainted with guns, regarded me with increased defer- ence. I had hoped to accomplish a visit to one of the villages of the interior, and a message was sent to its chief, who knew Mr. Wheatley, and was friendly, to come down to the coast and escort me there, but, as he did not turn up, I was compelled to abandon the plan, as without this chief's protection the danger of it was too serious to be risked. Hence my wanderings were confined to walks along the coral strand, with occasional wadings over shallows to an adjacent island, expeditions in the sailing-boat to the neighbouring villages, which, with their inhabitants, were indistinguishable from those of Rubiana, and now and then, when in a venturesome mood, little excursions a short distance into the interior, through the thick tangle of gum trees and undergrowth, palms, mangoes, bananas, pan- danus and tree ferns. Cruikshank, unfortunately, was rather inclined to be A NERVOUS COMPANION 49 nervous. Why this was so I could not make out, as I am sure he was not naturally a timid man ; but he had had some nasty little experiences in the Bismarcks, and I think he had been rather upset by the episode in the boat. He utterly mistrusted the natives, including the boys whom we had brought from Gizo, and no signs of apparent friend- ship reassured him ; indeed he seemed to think they only cloaked a treacherous intention. He carried the idea of not allowing a native to walk behind to such a point that, if I had been much influenced by his remonstrances, we could hardly have visited the villages at all, and I should have had to abandon my photography, as he regarded the necessary process of putting my head under the focussing cloth, when among the natives, as an act of almost criminal imprudence. It was fortunate for me that I had already had my little experience in Rubiana, as otherwise Cruikshank's constant anxieties and warnings must have made me nervous too. One great source of misgiving with him was the fact that the people themselves, when away from their own villages, always carried their weapons and shields, and it could not be denied that with them life was not safe. But I felt con- vinced that the risk to us in Kulambangra was even less than it had been to me in Rubiana, because we were within a comparatively short distance of Gizo, with its magisterial station, and I could not believe that the people would dare to attack us, even if they were inclined to do so. Nevertheless Cruikshank did give me a bit of a scare one night. We were, of course, somewhat at the mercy of the people when sleeping in our tent, so I had given them to understand that no one must come near it during the night on pain of the risk of being shot. But in the middle of D 50 NATIVE HOOLIGANS (I think) our third night Cruikshank woke me with a shake, and with much agitation told me that there were voices and whisperings just outside the tent. He picked up the shot-gun and I my repeating pistol, and after a few minutes' listening we certainly heard subdued voices, like whispered talking, and what sounded like a suppressed cough. I shouted, to let any intruders know that we were awake and on the alert, relying on their fear of our fire-arms, and hoping that, if there was any mischief brewing, they would be frightened away. There were no further sounds ; and, after making a reconnaissance outside the tent and listening for about half an hour, we settled down to rest again, though Cruikshank told me in the morning that he had kept awake all the night. On enquiring next day we could get no explanation of the sounds. I had a suspicion that our visitors might have been some wild pigs or other animals, attracted by the strange appearance of our tent, but pigs would probably have interfered with our tent-pegs, or left some other sign of their visit, and we could find no traces in the ground of either pigs, men or anything else. A scare of this sort, probably without foundation, may sound rather foolish to many readers ; but it will be well understood by anyone who has had experience of travel among the Solomons. The people of the islands in this neighbourhood had a short time before been terrorized by a band of native Rubiana hooligans under the leadership of one " Seto," whose savage instincts had apparently been too strong for his fear of the Government, and who had been going about from island to island killing indiscriminately. Kulambangra was one of the islands which they had visited, and I was shown the spot on the shore where Seto and some of his TABOO 51 men had crept through the bush and attacked and killed two men as they landed from a fishing expedition. Seto's last exploit had been in the immediately adjacent island of Vella Lavella, where he and his party had entered the house of a white trader and murdered his native wife and children. This had been followed by a punitive expedition by the Government, and Seto had been caught (he was in prison at Tulagi when my boat from Australia called there) ; but I afterwards heard that the evidence against him as regards the murder was considered insufficient, and so he was acquitted. I assume that the Resident Commissioner, who must, of course, follow the rules of justice, had no other alternative ; but episodes of this sort do not tend to restrain unruly natives, and some of the people of this district of the islands were, at all events at the time of my visit, in a very unsettled condition, as indeed my previous observations as to the Rubiana lagoon indicate. This certainly was the case at Kulambangra also, in illustration of which I may say that, soon after my return to Gizo, I learnt that a murder had taken place very near my tent the dav before that on which I left the island, and the murderer was a man whom I had photographed on the previous day. The word ' ; taboo " is one of the few words of the South Pacific which have found their way into the English lan- guage. With us it merely implies a social prohibition, but among the natives of the South Sea Islands the idea of taboo is one of superstitious prohibition. It may almost, as regards its operation, be compared with a curse. A chief will place a taboo upon a certain thing, after which no one will touch it. But the restraining strength of the taboo is not merely based upon the official authority of 52 TABOO MARKS AND SIGNS the chief ; its foundation is the belief in a supernatural power — a ghost or spirit — who, if the taboo is broken, will wreak vengeance on the offender. Hence ordinary people will often place taboos upon their property — their gardens, palm trees and other possessions — and no man dare violate these taboos, for fear of the evil power which the owner of the property would bring to bear upon him if he did so. There are numerous visible forms of taboo marks, indica- tions that trespassers will be prosecuted, or rather perse- cuted, by the avenging ghosts or spirits, the commonest being perhaps a wisp of grass tied to a stick or on a tree. In wandering along the lagoon shore of Kulambangra I found a considerable number of these taboo marks, most of them of forms which had not previously been described by travellers, placed in front of sections of the palm grove. Some of these were suggestive in themselves, but others were not so ; I give the following examples of the former and their meanings, as explained to me. One was a representation of a crocodile. It was made out of the broad mid ribs of two coco-nut leaves, placed horizontally one upon the other, and supported by upright sticks. The leaves were placed with their con- cave sides inwards, and their expanding bases, that of the upper leaf bending upwards and that of the lower one downwards, had been cut along their edges into tooth-like indentations to represent the crocodile's open mouth and teeth, and in this mouth was placed a coco- nut. The meaning of this taboo was that any man who stole coco-nuts from the trees would be eaten by a crocodile. Another form was half a bi-valve shell, inserted into the slit end of a vertical stick. This was apparently intended A DESERTED SHORE 53 to represent the human ear, and the warning which it gave was that the thief would lose his sense of hearing. Another was a bundle of leaves similarly inserted in a vertical stick, and the threat involved by it was that the robber would be carried by the winds out to sea in his canoe and lost. No explanation was forthcoming as to how such a calamity was suggested by the leaves, but it might well be based upon the way in which leaves are blown about and carried away by the wind. Again, another was a bundle of plants, also inserted in a vertical stick, and the threat conveyed by it was that boils, from which white matter would exude, would break out all over the trespasser's body, and he would die. This was not a very obvious meaning, and, as the plants were all so dried up as to be unrecognizable, they offered no clue ; but in reply to my enquiry I was shown some living plants, which I was told were of the same kind as those in the stick, and, as these were obviously spurges, all the forms of which exude white milky juice when broken, the mystery was solved. I tried to learn something of the history of these taboo signs, as it was clear that there must have been villages there at some time ; and I was told that three years pre- viously the whole of this palm-planted reach of coast near to my tent was occupied by villages, and that the land with the palms upon it belonged in plots to various individuals, each of whom had placed a taboo mark in front of his own group of palms. Troubles had arisen, however, from a love affair between a man of the village upon the site of which my tent was pitched and a woman of an adjoining village. There had been mutual fighting and raids, and the houses of both villages were burnt down ; this had brought about Government intervention, which had re- 54 CROCODILES suited in a general retreat of the people of all the villages into the interior, where they were then living ; but the owners of the coco-nuts still retained and exercised their rights over their trees. I could not discover any vestige of the old villages ; but to anyone who knows the amazing rapidity with which tropical nature sweeps over and overwhelms everything with the luxuriance of its vegetation this will not appear surprising. Crocodiles are found in these islands, generally at low water, on the margins of the mouths of the streams flowing into the sea and among the mangrove swamps beyond ; and, when the tide is very low, they even wander into the outer fringe of the bush. One of my native boys had a wonderful theory that, during these wanderings inland in search of prey, the crocodiles would make noises in imitation of the whine of a dog and the grunt of a pig, by which to entice their victims to their doom ; but I cannot say that I ever heard a crocodile either whining or grunting. I saw these beasts from time to time whilst in the Solo- mons and New Guinea, but did not meet with a large num- ber of them. At Kulambangra we had a special crocodile hunting expedition up a creek a few miles from our tent ; but, though we passed a hollow in the bush where three of them had been seen a few days before, and saw the remains of their al fresco repasts, and even forced our way through the mangrove tangle to a spot which was known as a favourite haunt, where a short time previously four men had been surprised by crocodiles and carried off, we never saw any. Perhaps it was as well, so far as the mangrove haunt was concerned, as progress across the muddy, swampy bottom through the thickly interlacing mangrove A BABY CROCODILE 55 roots and stems is not rapid, and the sudden appearance of the object of our search might have been embarrassing. There is no doubt that many natives, when bathing or crossing rivers and shallow estuaries, are surprised and taken, and sometimes they are caught on the dry land, for familiarity breeds contempt, or at any rate carelessness. I myself once enjoyed a night's sleep lying on the sandy shore under the happy belief that there were no crocodiles any- where near me, and was told the next day that they were numerous in the locality, and that I might easily have been carried off in my sleep. Speaking of crocodiles, I may say that I have had the curious experience of holding one in my hand. He was only a baby about a foot long, which we found in a pool near my tent. There was a full-sized crocodile, also close by, in the adjoining creek, which may have been the parent, but if so it took our interference with its offspring very coolly. In form and proportion it seemed to me to be identical, or nearty so, with the full-grown animal. As I held the little beast by the tip of his tail, he kept making ineffectual efforts to curl his head upwards and bite my hand ; but he could not manage it, and, though his little teeth had already formed, I doubt if he could have hurt me much, even if he had succeeded in securing a bite. I have already said something of the beauty of living coral, but on a visit to a village on another small island near to Kulambangra I had the joy of seeing it to perfec- tion. A reef stretching from the shore some distance out to sea, and only a few feet underwater, was a garden several acres in extent, completely covered with lovely corals and coral-like forms. Here were great solid masses, 56 BEAUTIFUL CORALS some of various shades of purple, others green and beauti- fully fringed ; there were curtains, with close-folded edges, projecting upwards and displaying many tints, a brownish- claret being the most frequent ; huge sponges, brown in colour, but patterned with greyish-green, grew in clusters, and among them were jelly-like masses of many colours ; large upright lumps, branching from the base, but with their branches cut away near the main trunk, leaving only stumps, were coloured a brownish-green ; stag's horns, two feet across and three feet high, were sage-green below and tipped with brilliant blue, whilst others, thick, like the antlers of an elk, were of a pale milky green ; and club mosses, small and great, bright purple, pale madder-brown, sage-green with dull reddish-purple tips, and dull purple with green tips, added to the kaleido- scope of colours. As our boat moved slowly over the reef, and we looked down into the water, we were gazing at a veritable fairy garden of beauty, all sparkling in the sun- shine. And the garden was inhabited by many brilliant- coloured fishes, some blue, green and greenish-blue ; others bright yellow with greenish tails, and again others painted in alternating bands of pale yellowish-white and black, but all scintillating, indeed almost metallic, in the brightness of their colouring. During the whole of my stay at Rubiana and Kulam- bangra I never saw any wild beasts except the crocodiles, and small things, such as snakes, large lizards (from 18 in. to 2 ft. long), centipedes, etc. ; and, indeed, I fancy there are not many of the larger animals near the shore. Birds were plentiful ; sea birds of different sorts, sometimes the much-reverenced frigate bird, pigeons, screeching parrots of various colours, cockatoos with even higher notes, SEA SLUGS 57 and other richly coloured birds, whose names I did not know. The shallows between the Kulambangra shore and a small neighbouring islet, across which I occasionally waded, were infested with sea-slugs, of which there were enormous quantities ; and, as they were often half buried or covered with sand, it was difficult to avoid treading on them. These creatures varied in length from six to eight inches, and averaged about two inches in thickness. They were ugly things, some black and others (generally, I think, a trifle smaller) a dirty yellowish or greenish-white. I was told that the former were the females and the latter the males, but do not know whether this was correct. One great disappointment in the Solomons, and after- wards in New Guinea, was the flora. I know nothing of tropical botany, and may have passed all sorts of interest- ing things without noticing them. I expected, however, at least to see quantities of lovely orchids ; but, though orchids there were in thousands, only once did I see them in flower, this being in Kulambangra, where there was a profusion of plants with flowering fronds three feet long hanging from the branches of the trees, and covered from end to end with lovelv white blossom. CHAPTER IV THE RUBIANA AND KULAMBANGRA PEOPLE The diversified types found among the native inhabitants of the islands of the South Pacific have ever been a source of much perplexity to ethnologists ; and as the process of racial intermixing and cultural imitation continues to confuse the distinguishing characteristics, physical, cul- tural and linguistic, by which alone the past histories of these already complex types of humanity can be traced, and their relationships with one another established, and as with increased contact with the white man old beliefs and practices die out and are forgotten, the solution of the many problems by which we are faced can hardly fail to become more and more difficult. I do not propose to touch upon the various, and some- times conflicting, theories of successive migrations from Southern Asia, with their resulting superimpositions of one type upon another and intercrossings, but will con- tent myself with stating the broad classification of the people, as they now exist, commonly adopted by eth- nologists. First we have the Papuans, usually of a sooty-brown colour, with black frizzy hair, among whom are frequently found men with somewhat Semitic noses, prominent brow ridges and backward-sloping foreheads, and who speak 58 THE PAPUANS 59 many comparatively distinct languages. These people probably once inhabited all the Melanesian Islands (in- cluding the Solomon group) and New Guinea ; but they are now found in a pure form only in New Guinea, and especially in the western portion of the island, which, sub- ject in parts to local Malay and other influences, is still almost exclusively Papuan. Next come the Melanesians, somewhat similar to the Papuans, but usually, and especially in their more eastern islands, not so dark, and without the special Papuan features to which I have referred. They are the outcome of later south-eastern migration from Southern Asia, and are now represented by the inhabitants of the groups called Melanesia (Fiji, New Caledonia, the New Hebrides, Banks and Santa Cruz groups, the Solomons, Bismarck Archipelago, Admiralty Islands and others). Some of them have in days gone by had subsequent migrations from their islands, westward to New Guinea, establishing themselves in the eastern portions of the island, intermixing with the Papuans there, and forming a mixed race, to whom the name Papuo-Melanesian has been given. Their languages are all closely related. Then come the Polynesians, of whom I need say but little here, except that they are a taller, stouter, lighter- complexioned, better-looking people, whose black hair is wavy or curly, instead of being frizzy, like that of the people already described. These are the present inhabitants of the more eastern islands of the Pacific, including Samoa, Tonga, Tahiti, The Marquesas and other groups, whence they have spread northward to the Hawaii Islands, and southward to New Zealand, where they bear the well- known name of Maori. 60 PYGMIES In very early days, before the advent of the Papuans,* Melanesians and Polynesians, there may have been a dwarf: or Pygmy (Negritto) race of people occupying some or; others of these islands ; whilst I was in British New Guinea, people of this character were found in Dutch New Guinea ; and the suggestion which I made in my book on the Mafulu people that they and other mountain folk of that portion of New Guinea, including the Kuni (of whom I shall say something), are a remnant of an early Negritto ancestry, has, I think, been generally accepted as a prob- ability by anthropologists who have discussed it. The people of the Rubiana Lagoon and of the Island of Kulambangra are, like the other Solomon Islanders, Melanesians, and among them, at all events, no trace of a partial Pygmy ancestry has yet been found. I have already spoken of their physique, dress and bodily decoration, and endeavoured to describe their villages ; but there are other matters of interest concerning them, about a few of which I now propose to say something. The social organization of these peoplp is simple in the extreme. They have no tribes in the strict sense of the term, and, though each village will probably have a head- man or chief, he is not a person of any great power or authority. For matrimonial purposes the people are divided into classes, and they have a law of exogamy, which forbids a man to marry a woman of his own class. 1 Associated with 1 The word " class," as here used, must not be taken as having the mean- ing of social grade, such as is commonly given to it in England. It has been adopted in connection with the general separation of Melanesians into divisions, to which the terms "tribe" and "clan" are not properly applicable. A Rubiana Man and Boy The boy's pendant is made The men nearly always carry arms when away ^^^^'^^UdinVbehind is a canoe house. ,f shell, which these people carve into beautiful ornaments. 1 ne 0uuain o MARRIAGE 61 this rule of exogamy is a system of descent in the female line ; and, as the wife is necessarily of a class other than that of her husband, it follows that their children are mem- bers of her class, and not of his, and are more closely related to her brothers than to him. Some curious results may follow from this ; for instance, so far as the question of exogamy is concerned, the son of a man's wife from one class and the daughter of his wife from another may marry, although they are half-brother and sister ; and, indeed, a father may marry his own daughter. There are, however, recognized ideas as to consanguinity by which such things would be reprobated, but they are by no means unknown. The leverate, that is the system under which on a man's death his brother or other near relation is entitled to his wife, is widely distributed throughout Melanesia, and probably exists in Rubiana. It is based on the fact that the purchase money paid by a man for a wife has been found by him and his family, so that she has become in a sense a family asset, which must not be lost ; and the priority of family claimants naturally begins with the brother, as the nearest relative, the rights of the other male relatives following according to rules of con- sanguinity. Initiation ceremonies, by which boys, on the approach to manhood, are initiated into the secrets and mysteries of the people, are a common feature of the social life of Melanesia. The forms of these ceremonies differ widely in different islands, and among some of them, notably the Bismarck Archipelago, the ceremonies are most elaborate. Certain fundamental features, such as the prior isolation of the initiates in one way or another, and especially their 62 CEREMONIES seclusion from the sight of women, and the restrictions placed in the meantime both on their diet and freedom, are common to nearly all the ceremonies. The initiates also in many places have to undergo considerable hardship during their period of isolation, and they generally have a terrible time during the ceremony, being frightened by strange, weird sounds and the appearance of awful masked figures, and often badly beaten, and even wounded, by way of testing their courage and hardihood. Ceremonies of this sort have been met with in the Solomon island of Florida, but no one has recorded them in the Rubiana Lagoon, as indeed there is really no authentic literature concerning it. Unfortunately the lack of a sufficiently capable interpreter and the shortness of the time at my disposal made it impossible for me to investigate the matter. The ceremony of marriage is practically nil, the bride being simply handed over to the bridegroom on payment of the price, after which the relatives and friends of both of them have a feast. When a woman is about to give birth to a child, the women of her village build her a small leaf hut away in the bush ; and there she has to remain in the damp and dirt, often with the rain pouring in from the roof, until the child is born. No male hand must take part in the building of the house, and no man, not even her husband, must approach it whilst she is there ; moreover, the husband must not see the child for at least a fortnight after birth. The women of the village celebrate the event by a religious ceremony, with sprinkling of blood. The life of a Rubiana warrior must now be a very dull one. Fishing, fruit and vegetable growing, a little hunting, THE RUBIANA WARRIOR 63 betel chewing, and smoking are its main occupations ; he also builds his houses and canoes, and makes a few primi- tive implements and such simple weapons — spears, clubs, occasionally bows and arrows, though these are not com- monly found in New Georgia, and shields — as he still requires for hunting and self-defence and such righting as he is able to indulge in. But he must often long for the good old days, with their head-hunting expeditions, their dangers and triumphs, the glory of the return home with boat- loads of heads and living victims, and the joy of strutting about the village, a hero, approved by the men, the delight of the women, and by no one more admired than by him- self. The Rubiana people make most beautiful canoes, not mere " dug-outs," but elaborately and carefully built boats. I had an opportunity in one village of watching the process of construction, and was impressed by the skilful way in which the slips of thin wood were fashioned to the exact shape required, and fastened rigidly together with closely knotted string made out of vegetable fibre. The canoes would for beauty of form and exactness and rigidity of build be a credit to any civilized boat-builder. When finished they are coated over with a surface of black resinous liquid, which hides all joints and knots, and gives each canoe the appearance of being made out of a single piece. What the liquid is I could not make out, but I fancy it is obtained from the fruit of a tree. It dries up, becomes quite hard, and so makes the canoes water- tight. In size these canoes range from small ones, intended for only one or two persons, to large ones, capable of holding twenty or more. The body of a big canoe 64 BEAUTIFUL CANOES usually curves up in front in a tall rostrum or beak, sometimes rising fifteen feet or more above the surface of the water, and there is a similar, but smaller, one in the stern. A large canoe is generally decorated with curved lines of cowrie and other shells and geometric forms, such as squares, circles, lozenges and other less simple designs, painted white upon its sides and up its bow and stern beaks, the lines generally following those of the canoe and displaying considerable artistic talent in their gradual approach to one another, as the surface to be decorated narrows to points at the tops of the beaks ; and I always noticed a line of larger cowrie shells fixed along the front edge of the beak of the bow. The most important decoration, however, is the grotesquely carved human head, to which is sometimes added the upper part of the body, in front of the bow beak, and the pair of eyes painted one on each side of the bow end of the canoe ; for these keep watch for dangerous hidden reefs, upon which the mariners might be wrecked, and the head also frightens away the evil spirits of the waters, who might otherwise bring disaster upon the party. In some cases I noticed, close to each of the two eyes, a painted representation of a snake. The war canoes were often of enormous size, capable of carrying one hundred warriors, and when these went off in flotillas on their head-hunting expeditions, they must have been an imposing sight. A war canoe was believed to be invested with a sort of supernatural power ; but, for a new canoe to acquire this, a man had to be killed by those on board her ; so the first trip was always taken in search of the needful victim. Some half-dozen years ago, when ANIMAL REPRESENTATIONS 65 the Government suppressed the head-hunting expeditions, most of the war canoes were destroyed. As regards the representation of a snake, to which I have referred, I shall deal with religious beliefs in a subsequent chapter ; but I may here say that sharks, crocodiles, snakes, bonitos, frigate birds, eels, owls, crabs and some other animals, are often regarded with superstitious veneration by the Melanesian people, and are frequently introduced into their decorative carving and designs. I saw a good example of this in one of the long wooden troughs, used for pounding taro, yam, sweet potato and other food. The trough was about ten feet long, and had the carved figure of a man projecting horizontally, face upwards, at one end ; and the side of the trough was decorated with a long line of alternate pairs of sharks and crocodiles, each pair with their noses facing each other and close together, being in fact only separated by the figure of a luckless man, who had an arm in the mouth of each, and whose life was clearly destined to be short. The bodies of the sharks and croco- diles were decorated with geometric patterns. The ideas of the Melanesians concerning all these animals differ in the several groups of islands, and even to a smaller extent within the groups themselves. Speaking generally, it may be said of the Solomon Islanders that they all look upon some or others of the animals as being embodiments of the ghosts of the great departed, or at all events as being closely associated with those ghosts. Hence they are commonly regarded with considerable superstitious awe, for in their ghostly capacity they can bring disaster to men and to communities ; and, as all ghosts are more or less malevolent, it is probable that they will do so, unless propitiated. So sacrificial offerings 66 BURIAL CUSTOMS are made to them to appease their wrath, and these enter largely into the superstitious observances of the people. It is the usual custom of the Melanesians to put the dead bodies of ordinary people either underground or into the sea, but those of chiefs and important people, though often buried, are frequently burnt ; and in my rambles in and about the villages of Rubiana and Kulambangra I found a number of what I may for the moment speak of as chiefs' graves, though, as will be seen, the term " grave " would not as a rule be quite correct. One special feature of these graves is a heap or cairn of stones, almost always piled up over the grave, stones being, I may say, specially associated with things supernatural all through Melanesia. Sometimes the cairn rises from front to back in stages, but usually the stones are merely piled up loosely. At the top of the pile they generally place either a memorial image, a rude figure of a man, usually carved out of the trunk of a tree, or a shrine, the two common forms of the latter being (1) a little gabled roof dropping down to the ground on both sides, either open at both ends (front and back) or enclosed with flat thin pieces of wood, often carved, and (2) a circular thatched roof supported upon a post, and not reaching to the ground, the shape of which varies from that of a circular tent to that of what I can only describe as a half-closed umbrella. Sometimes you find both image and shrine, and occasionally there is a tiny wooden image under the shrine. These stone heaps, images and shrines would not, how- ever, as a rule, if ever, be placed upon the spots in which the chiefs' bodies had been interred. The shrines only contain relics of them, probably their skulls, and perhaps Shrine of a Dead Chief in Sychele (Rubiana) A shrine usually contains the chiefs skull or some of his bones, or sometimes the incinerated remains of his body: and the people place offerings upon it, as they do on the stone heaps under the images. SHRINES AND IMAGES 67 a few other bones, and often the ashes of their burnt-up bodies, or, where there is no shrine, the relics would be under the heap of stones. Both images and shrines are usually decorated with ornaments, shell armlets being, it seemed to me, most commonly used for this purpose. At Sychele one of the " graves " was a huge erection of stones, surmounted by timber work and platforms, all in a state of considerable dilapidation ; and I was told that this was sacred to the memory of twenty chiefs. For this and other reasons I came to the conclusion that Sychele, which was even then larger than any of the other villages I saw, must in days not long gone by have been an im- portant centre of my head-hunting friends. As will be seen hereafter, the people are greatly under the fear of ghosts, and a chief having been a powerful man in his lifetime, his ghost will be powerful after his death, and must be propitiated by special attentions in burial and afterwards. The shrines and images are therefore sacred, and the stranger must be wary in approaching them in the presence of the natives, if he wishes to avoid getting himself into trouble. As an example of this I may say that I learned at an early stage in my observation of these things that, though I might pass freely in front of them, it was taboo (forbidden) to pass immediately behind; and I was thus prevented afterwards, when in the more remote villages of the Sychele district, from inadvertently committing an offence which mght have got me into trouble. It is (as will be explained hereafter) the practice of the people to make their food offerings to the ghosts at these grave shrines, if such I may call them, the food being placed on the highest level of the stone heap, immediately in front 68 RISKS OF THE TRAVELLER of the image, and there cooked with fire ; and I generally found ashes and the charred remains of food in front of the images. Referring to the caution which one has to adopt in approaching a sacred shrine, I believe that perhaps one of the most frequent causes of native attacks upon white men, after that of interference with their women, is neglect of their religious and social regulations. It is therefore im- portant for a traveller among them to acquire some know- ledge of these things, lest he should unwittingly do wrong. I more than once nearly made a mistake of this sort, notably on my first approach to a shrine, and again when I was calmly entering an empty building, in the shade of which I proposed to lunch, not having noticed the bunch of grass attached to its gable end, which indicated that entry was taboo. As regards the general question of the risk involved in travelling among these people, I may say that no white man, however careful he may be, is ever really safe ; nor indeed are the natives themselves, when they venture out- side their own districts. But the white man has to face not only the mistrust and consequent hostility which the people feel towards any stranger, but the special resentment with which they are disposed to regard white men. This is largely based upon the great differences between white and black, and partly, in places, upon recollections of past injuries to the people, and still more perhaps their women, by traders, sailors and adventurers who have visited them. If it should happen that a white man goes to a district where the last white visitor has in some way incurred the native anger, then indeed his peril is extreme. They will wreak their vengeance upon him ; and indeed, Memorial Image of a Dead Chief in Sychele (Rubiaxa) The people make offerings of food and other things to the ghosts in order to propitiate them, the gifts being put upon the heaps of stones on which the images are placed. Taboo Mark in Kulambangra Protecting Coco-nut Trees It is made of palm leaves, and represents a crocodile; the threat conveyed is that anyone stealing nuts from the trees will be devoured by a crocodile, and no man would venture to violate the taboo. RISKS OF THE TRAVELLER 69 apart from the question of revenge, they will probably be in fear of his repeating the offence, and so kill him off- hand. Then the taking of human life has always been regarded by these people as a virtuous act, a thing of which a man may be proud. The murder may have been of the most treacherous and cowardly kind ; the victim may have been only a woman or child, who has been struck down from behind whilst walking through the bush, but the fact remains that the man has taken human life, and for this he is applauded. Even natives who have been in close contact with white men, who perhaps have worked or are still working for them at their trading stations or plantations, are not to be trusted ; in fact I have sometimes heard it said that they are often less trustworthy than the others. This is perhaps due in part to the absence, on more intimate association, of the old wondering fear, and of course the necessary exer- cise of discipline and the occasional need for correction or punishment often breeds anger and determination to revenge ; but behind all other matters is the instinctive desire to kill for killing's sake. I remember a tale, told me before I started for the South Seas, by one who knows a good deal about them. It related to a friend of his, who was travelling about in a district of the Solomons, accompanied by a few native attendants, and the tale is that one of these natives approached the traveller and begged of him that he would always walk behind, and not in front of them, as, though they had no wish to hurt him, they could not trust them- selves to resist the natural impulse to strike him down from behind, if he gave them the opportunity. I know not whether this tale is true, but its source makes it hardly 70 RISKS OF THE TRAVELLER possible for me to doubt it, and in any case it is quite con- sistent with what I know of the native instinct. I, at all events, acting on the advice of Mr. Wheatley, was always, so far as possible, careful not to walk or stand with a native immediately behind me. CHAPTER V RELIGIOUS BELIEFS AND PRACTICES OF THE SOLOMON ISLANDERS The religious beliefs of the people of the Solomon Islands are mainly based on the powers of the ghosts of the de- parted and spirits which have never occupied human form, and they have not any notion of a single Supreme Being. The underlying idea, which permeates all these beliefs, is that of a supernatural power, belonging to the unseen, and acting in all kinds of ways for good and evil, which is called mana. This is a power or influence, not physical, but in a way supernatural, and it manifests itself in physical force, or in any kind of power or excellence which a man possesses ; it is mana that works to effect everything which is beyond the ordinary power of men, outside the common processes of nature ; it is present in the atmo- sphere of life, attaches itself to persons and to things, and is manifested by results which can only be ascribed to its operation. All spirits 1 have it, as also do most ghosts and some men. If a man has been successful in fighting, this success is not the result of his own physical powers ; it is because he has got the mana of a spirit or of some deceased warrior to empower him, this being perhaps conveyed in an amulet of a stone round his neck or a tuft of leaves in his belt, in a tooth hung upon the ringer of his spear hand, or in the form of words with which he brings supernatural assistance 1 By this term I mean supernatural beings which have never been human. 71 72 SUPERNATURAL POWER to his aid. If a man possessed of mana dies, this super- natural power, which has abode in him, will after his death abide in his ghost with increased vigour and more ease of movement. The possession of mana is not, how T ever, confined to spirits, ghosts and human beings. It may be immanent in animals and plants, and even in inanimate objects. If a man finds a curiously shaped stone, quite different from any stone he has ever seen before, he thinks there must be mana in it ; so he buries it in the ground when he plants his garden, or lays it at the root of a tree whose fruit it resembles, and an abundant crop from garden or tree convinces him that he is right — that the stone does possess mana. Even certain forms of words have power for certain purposes by reason of this mana. The original source of mana would seem to be the spirits ; but they can transmit it, and it is through this transmission that it passes into the possession of ghosts, human beings, animals, plants and lifeless objects ; and each of these again can transmit it. The mana possessed by a man has, as before indicated, been transmitted to him by a spirit or a deceased warrior, which in effect means the latter's ghost ; so the mana of the curious stone can be transmitted to other stones. Mana is itself impersonal ; but it is always in its opera- tions associated with some personal being, w T ho directs it. If a stone has mana, it is because a spirit has associated itself with it ; a dead man's bone has mana, because that man's ghost is with the bone ; a spoken charm is powerful, because the name of a spirit or ghost, expressed in the form of words, brings into it the power which the spirit or ghost exercises through it. PRAYERS AND OFFERINGS 73 All conspicuous success of a man is proof that he is possessed of mana, and, the greater the success, the larger is the amount of mana which he is presumed to have. His influence among his fellows depends upon the impression made on their minds that he has it ; he, for example, be- comes a chief by virtue of this impression. It therefore follows that it is the natural desire of every man to acquire the help of this power of mana. The fundamental underlying principle of the various religions and superstitions of the Solomon Islanders, so far, at all events, as prayers, sacrifices and other religious practices go, is the desire and effort of the people to get the power of mana for themselves, or secure its direction for their benefit. We are now brought to the subject of ghosts and spirits, an enormous one, which can only be dealt with here very briefly. There is a broad general distinction between the practices relating to ghosts and spirits, inasmuch as in sacrifices to ghosts the food offerings are generally consumed by fire and afterwards eaten ; whilst in sacrifices to spirits there is no sacrificial fire or subsequent eating. Throughout the Solomon Islands prayers and offerings are habitually made to either spirits or ghosts, or both. The prayers are generally forms of words, believed to be acceptable to the power addressed, and known only to those who have access to it ; but there are also natural calls for help in danger and distress. The offerings have various motives : some are propitiatory, substituting an animal for the person who has offended ; some depreca- tory ; others are offered to gratify, with a view to gain ; and again, others are merely intended as marks of proper 74 PRAYERS AND OFFERINGS attention and respect. There is no priestly order, strictly speaking, and any man can have access to some object of worship, and most men in fact either have or claim to have it, either by discovery of their own or by knowledge im- parted to them by others ; but, if the object of worship is common to the members of the community, then the man who knows how to approach that object is in a way their priest and sacrifices for them all. Indeed, where a chief conducts such a sacrifice, it is not a performance of a duty which falls upon him because he is a chief, but rather an office, his power to perform which has brought him to the position of chief. Women and children are generally excluded from religious rites. Dealing first with observances relating to ghosts, the simplest and commonest sacrificial act is that of throwing to the dead a small fragment of yam or other food which has been prepared for eating, this being regarded as the share of departed friends, or as a memorial of them, by which they will be gratified. This practice is universal in the Solomons. An extension of this is the placing of food on a burial-place, or in front of a memorial image, the food being afterwards taken away again and eaten. A still further development is found in the placing of food upon a burial-place, or in front of a memorial image, or into a shrine, and there burning and afterwards eating it. Very important persons sometimes have large and richly decorated shrines erected to their memories ; and with these are often associated solemn ceremonies, performed inside the shrine, for the benefit of the people of the com- munity, e.g. to bring them success in an intended warlike expedition. Pig's flesh is generally burnt, a solemn appeal PRAYERS AND OFFERINGS 75 for support is made to the dead man's ghost, and the pig is afterwards eaten. A curious feature in these, and, indeed, in minor sacrifices, is that the consuming of the food by the fire seems commonly to be regarded as an indication that the prayer has been heard and will be acceded to. Such a ceremony is for the benefit of all the people — success in an approaching battle ; but individuals, who have themselves acquired, and have had imparted to them, the knowledge of certain things — as, for instance, leaves — in which particular ghosts delight, will utilize their know- ledge for their own private ends. This is commonly the case as regards killing, either in a battle or of a private enemy ; indeed, without this supernatural support, the would-be killer subjects himself, not only to the risk of failing in the combat, but also to the probability that, even if he kills his victim, he will afterwards be at the mercy of the latter's ghost ; and it is only under the protection of a more powerful ghost, one with more inana, that he can safely engage in the conflict. He, therefore, first offers to his friendly ghost some of its loved food, and invokes its assistance and pro- tection, before attempting the proposed attack. Invocations to ghosts are not, however, always sup- ported by sacrifices or offerings. A Solomon islander in danger, difficulty, or distress, will naturally call upon the beings in whose power and will to help him he believes, but he will do so at other times ; he will, for instance, more formally supplicate a ghost, to save him from the perils of the deep, to speed his canoe, that he may quickly reach his destination, to help him in battle or in sickness, to aid him in fishing, or to bring him good crops ; and, if the result attained is to the man's 76 VILLAGE DESERTION satisfaction, he will then often address the ghost with words of praise. During my stay in Kulambangra I had the good fortune to come across an interesting case of superstitious village desertion, and propitiatory sacrifice to a ghost, my atten- tion being drawn to it by visits to two small villages, one an old one and the other obviously a new, indeed a barely finished one, both of which were absolutely deserted. The history of the matter, as afterwards explained to me, was as follows : the older of the two villages was the original home of the people from whom I obtained the in- formation. Their chief had died, and the village was haunted by his ghost ; so they had migrated to another spot, where they commenced house-building ; but almost immediately after their arrival there further troubles of superstitious portent had befallen them, and they had therefore had to move to yet another spot, where they made considerable progress in the building of a new village, this being, in fact, the new unfinished village which I had seen. Before this was finished, however, they had another death, which once again involved a migration. The spot selected this time was on a small outlying island ; and it was on a visit to their new village on this island that I saw the people, and obtained their explanation of the matter. They were hoping to return to their original first deserted village very shortly, as some of their members had on the previous day visited it, and removed the spell upon it by sacrifices on the dead chief's tomb, upon which they had built a fire, and there cooked a repast of coco-nut, taro and yam. The food was consumed by the fire, a sure indica- tion that the ghost was appeased, and their mission sue- THE FEAR OF GHOSTS 77 cessful. They had afterwards returned to the new village, Id which they were then living, and had that morning held a feast there, at which each person had received a portion food wrapped up in leaves. I enquired what they would have done if the fire had failed to consume the food, thus indicating that the ghost had not been appeased, and was told they would have again visited the grave, and one of them would have stood over it, holding in his hand a string, to which a stone was attached ; his hand and arms would have shaken under the influence of the ghost, and the stone would have swung round and round, upon which they would have asked the ghost what he wanted, and he would have told them. His demands might have been for native money, or for food, or both, and they would have been complied with, the money being put on the grave, and the food placed upon a fire made upon it, though in this case consumption of the food by the fire would not have been necessary. I could not learn from these people how the ghost would have answered their enquiries as to what he wanted ; but I have little doubt it would be by certain movements of the swinging stone upon the mentioning of the acceptable offerings, a method which, in one form or another, is well known in the islands, and of which a further example will appear later. Whilst walking along the shore on Kulambangra, I had another illustration of the fear with which the people regard the ghosts. I met an old man, a native of one of the inland villages, walking, armed with his axe and shield. I managed to photograph him, and then persuaded him to bring some of his people down to the shore for the same purpose on the following day. As I was some distance 78 SPIRITS from my tent, I suggested that he should bring them to a spot on the shore near the tent. This, however, he abso- lutely refused to do ; and the reason, as explained to me, was that some years ago a man of his village had killed a man of the village on the site of which my tent was pitched, and that it was taboo and dangerous for any man of his village to trespass on the site of the other one, as, if he did so, he would be attacked by the ghost of the murdered man and die. A woman, however, could do so without danger. Turning now to spirits which have never lived as human beings, we find a totally different mode of approach by those who wish to appease them, or secure their support. These beings have no shrines or memorial images, such as are erected for the great departed. Their sacred places are all principally the handiwork of nature, and the one thing which is almost always associated with a spirit is a stone, probably one remarkable in form. Some of these stones have been sacred to certain individual spirits from ancient times, and the way to approach any one spirit who is associated with a stone is often known to one man only, the knowledge having been handed down from generation to generation, and finally come to him ; and he alone can approach the stone, as it is he alone who, through that stone, possesses a personal acquaintance with the spirit ; any other person who desires the benefit of access to the spirit must obtain it by the mediation of this man. The person at whose instance the spirit is approached makes his present to the man whose right it is to do it ; this offering may be a pig, or mats, or native money, or anvthinsf else. Then the latter makes the offering to the spirit, placing it upon the sacred stone, and invokes the SACRED STONES 79 spirit's aid ; it by no means follows, however, that he will give to the spirit all that he has himself received, so that his association with the spirit is often highly lucrative. The motives for these ceremonies are various. A man is ill, and so, at his instance, the intermediary will make the offering to the spirit, with a prayer that the man may recover. The thing desired may be wealth, success in fighting, or in anything else ; or, again, it may be that a man has inadvertently trespassed on a sacred place, and so has offended the spirit with which it is associated, in which case he must make reparation to the spirit, lest it should cause evil to befall him. Though stones are generally the objects associated with these spirits, they are by no means the only ones ; the object may be one of the specially reverenced animals mentioned in the last chapter, or some other creature, in which case the man who is familiar with the spirit will visit the creature, and make his offering to it. It should also be mentioned that sacred things, such as stones, need not always have been sacred ; any man may find one which strikes his fancy by reason of its curious shape, and which he therefore suspects of association with a spirit ; and, if he succeeds in securing a clientele, and his operations acquire the reputation of being successful, this stone will pass into the list of known sacred stones, and his association with the spirit with which it is connected will be handed down by him to his successors. Sacred places and things are, or rather were, before the advent of the white man and his missionaries, abundant in the Solomons, and their character still survives in places where the old superstitions remain. These places and things all owe their sanctity to either ghosts or spirits. 80 IDOLS The places nearly always have stones in them, and, indeed, as we have seen, the sacred object often is a stone ; but whereas some places are sacred because the stones were found there, in others the stones have been placed! there because the places were sacred. The old idea that the people worship idols is not correct. Sailors, untrained travellers and missionaries found carved images and other objects, before which re- ligious ceremonies were performed and offerings were placed, and, not unnaturally, assumed that these things were idols, which were themselves the objects of worship. But in fact the carved images are only memorial images, the other objects are only regarded as being associated with the ghosts and spirits, and the ceremonies are directed and the offerings made, not really to the objects them- selves, but to the ghosts or spirits with which they are associated. Some of the objects, as, for instance, carved representations of sharks or other animals, are indeed the receptacles of the bodies of the departed, but they are not so of their spirits, and the objects themselves are in no way the things to which reverence is paid. Belief in magic and sorcery is found everywhere in the Solomons, and its accomplishment is effected entirely by the aid of ghosts and spirits, mana being the power which enables those who practise it to do so. Usually individual men are only skilled in one or other of its branches ; but there are sorcerers with extensive repertoires. Many of these people sincerely believe in the powers which they claim to exercise ; but undoubtedly there is a great deal of conscious deceit. The powers are handed down by men to their successors, whom they initiate. Ghosts and spirits are naturally malignant, and any MAGIC AND SORCERY 81 sickness, other than a common complaint recognized as coming in the course of nature, is believed to be brought about either by a ghost or a spirit, especially where the sufferer is an important person. The beings to which illnesses are, however, more usually ascribed are ghosts, who have been offended, or whose baneful aid has been secured with sacrifice and spells by people familiar with them, or who act through sheer malignity towards those who are still alive. The common idea is that the ghost is eating the patient. Often the first thing to do is to find out which is the ghost that has caused the illness. Perhaps, for example, it is ascertained that the patient has trodden unlawfully in a sacred place, and the assumption arises that it is the ghost of that place that has done it. In that case the familiar of that ghost is sent for, and he goes through some ceremony, and begs the ghost to remove the sickness. If the person does not get better, some other possibly offended ghost is appealed to in the same way. If the ghost cannot be ascertained, perhaps someone familiar with a powerful ghost will approach him and ask him to intercede with the offended one, whose identity it is assumed he will know. In some cases there may be reason to suspect that some person, having ill-will towards the patient, has approached his own familiar ghost, and set it to bring about the ill- ness, in which case effort will be made to induce that person, for a consideration, to call off the devouring ghost. If he refuses, recourse may be had to someone who is familiar with a more powerful ghost, who will drive away the other one ; and then the recovery or death of the patient may influence public opinion as to the relative powers of the two ghosts. 82 MAGIC AND SORCERY In some parts of the Solomon Islands when a man is ill the sorcerer called in will discover the ghost who is doing the mischief by suspending a stone at the end of a string, which he holds in his hand, and calling over the names of lately deceased people ; and, if on the call of any name the stone swings, it is known that it is the ghost of that person. Various alternative gifts to the ghost — such as yams, fish, or a pig — are then called one after another in the same way, and the swinging of the stone indicates the ghost's selection ; the accepted gift is then offered at the dead man's grave or sacred place. Different methods of producing illness and death by sorcery are found in the various parts of the Solomons ; but the underlying principle of most of them is that of bringing the victim into contact with the spirit or ghost which is to injure him. The method commonly adopted is the taking of a portion of the victim's body — as, for example, a piece of his hair, or of one of his nails — or some- thing closely connected with him — say a fragment of some food which he has recently eaten, or a leaf with which he has wiped the perspiration from his face — and applying to it the magic evil powers of a bone of the dead person, whose ghost is the operative power, or a stone filled with mana for doing mischief, or some other thing ; or perhaps throw- ing it into the sacred place haunted by the ghost. It is, therefore, a common practice among these people to hide anything which might be used in this way, so as to avoid its falling into the hands of ill-wishers. Various forms of medicine are met with, these also differing in the several districts ; but, though some of them really have an actual curative power, the belief in their efficacy is based on the supernatural, the idea being MAGIC AND SORCERY 83 that the cure is really effected by the spiritual being with whom the doctor operating is familiar. Weather can be controlled by ghosts and spirits, and therefore also by those who are familiar with them, and can invoke their action. Hence you have weather-mongers, who can provide wind, calm, rain, sunshine, famine and abundance for the benefit of their employers, or to the detriment of those employers' enemies. The ghosts and spirits have also imparted power to forms of words, stones, leaves, and other things, which, therefore, of themselves affect the weather. The methods adopted by these weather sorcerers are numerous ; but an example will give an idea of their character. A method of securing sunshine, observed in one of the Solomon Islands, was to tie certain leaves and creeper vines to the end of a bamboo cane and hold them over a fire. The operator fanned the fire, singing as he did so, to give it mono, and this mana was transmitted, by the fire to the leaves ; he then climbed a tree, and fastened the bamboo to its topmost branch ; and as the wind blew about the flexible bamboo the mana was cast abroad, and the sun shone out. A series of examples could, if space permitted, be given of magical performances engaged in for success in hunting, fishing, agriculture, dancing, war. and, indeed, in all the occupations of the people. There are men who have the power of divination. The information is usually conveyed to the people by a spirit or ghost, speaking through the mouth of the wizard, who, meanwhile, is apparently unconscious. Perhaps, when a proposed warlike expedition is being discussed, one of the party, known to be familiar with a divining ghost, will 84 ORDEALS sneeze and begin to shake — a sure sign that the ghost has entered into him ; his eyes will glare, his limbs twist, his mouth foam, and his whole body be convulsed ; then a voice, not his own, is heard issuing from his throat, approving or disapproving of what is proposed ; and this will seriously influence the decision of the party. In one of the Solomon Islands, when an expedition has started in a fleet of canoes, there may be hesitation as to the direction they shall take, or, indeed, whether they shall go on at all. Then one of them declares that his familiar ghost has come on board, for one side of the canoe has been pressed down. Then he asks the questions : " Shall we go ? " " Shall we go there ? " The rocking of the canoe is an affirmative answer, but if it is steady, the reply is in the negative. The method above described of discovering by means of a swinging stone the ghost who has brought about an illness really comes under the head of divination. Ordeals are employed in the Solomon Islands to vindi- cate the innocence or establish the guilt of a man accused of an offence. These ordeals take various forms, and a curious feature of them is that sometimes the person who undergoes the ordeal is not the alleged culprit, but the magic man or person who possesses the implement used for the purpose of the experiment. In one ordeal the accused invokes the aid of a man who owns a stone full of magic power. The people all assemble, and the accused publicly denies the charge against him, and offers to sub- mit to the ordeal. The owner of the stone then heats it, and throws it from hand to hand ; if his hands are burnt, the accused is guilty ; if not, he is innocent. In another ordeal the accused swallows a charmed stone, which has ORDEALS 85 been heated by the wizard employed, and his innocence is proved if he takes no harm. Another ordeal, adopted in case of accusation of a very serious offence, is for the alleged culprit to swim across a channel infested by crocodiles, the latter having been first called by the wizard with his charms. In this case it is sometimes the wizard, and not the accused, who ventures the dangerous passage. Readers need hardly be told that these old religious and superstitious beliefs and practices prevalent in the Solo- mons have in many places, where the people have been much in contact with white men, and especially with missionaries, been dissipated and discontinued ; but the Solomons have not yet been Christianized or civilized, and there are many parts, especially in the interiors of the larger islands, where little or no white influence has yet been felt ; and, indeed, even where this is otherwise, these people, like their more advanced white-skinned brothers of civilized lands, do not, on nominally or even truly abandoning an ancient superstition, entirely free themselves from the old fears and inclination to ceremonial self-pro- tection with which the superstition has been associated for so long past. CHAPTER VI ARRIVAL IX NEW GUINEA In the sail from Gizo to New Guinea I stopped for a short time at Samarai, the trading station at the eastern point of the island ; but Port Moresby, the seat of government, was the spot at which I made what I may call my real entry into the promised land of my expedition. The entry was not an auspicious one ; its opening episode was the dropping into the sea, during disembarkation, of a large case containing clothes, books, papers, compass, aneroid, and, worst of all, one of my cameras, and all my ammunition. Fortunately I had taken the precaution of having two cameras carried in separate cases, as otherwise all photo- graphy would have had to be abandoned ; but the ruina- tion of many other things was a real disaster, and I did not enjoy the work of unpacking the sea-sodden contents, and spreading them out in the sun, in the hope of saving as much of them as was possible. Moreover, I was suffering from a painful septic sore on my right heel, contracted at Kulambangra ; and this, in spite of all antiseptics, insisted on spreading and getting worse, making walking difficult and painful ; and I was told, by way of comfort, that things of this sort sometimes took several months to heal. I had had some almost crushing disappointments in previous efforts to get into the wilds ; and at Port Moresby it really seemed as if the 86 PORT MORESBY 87 fates were still against me, and that this last attempt was to be another fiasco. To make matters worse, warnings received at Sydney that I should not be able to reach the Malulu mountain district were here repeated with even greater emphasis ; though I think these gloomy forebodings must have been based upon my lack of training and experi- ence, and my age and slender physique, rather than upon any expected inherent difficulty in the task. So, though I busied myself with laying in stores and arranging and packing everything in proper form for inland travel with native carriers, and generally making my final preparations, I did so in a somewhat despondent spirit. I have refrained from describing the Government and magisterial stations in the Solomons (Tulagi and Gizo) or saying anything of my experiences there, preferring to confine myself to regions outside the limits of civilization. But, as I was about three weeks at Port Moresby, and it is a place of increasing importance, I propose to say some- thing about it. The town is situated on a neck of land, with the harbour bay on one side and the open sea on the other. Climatic- ally there is not much to recommend it. During the wet season of the north-west monsoon, lasting from about November or December to February or March, it must indeed be an unpleasant place to live in ; and even during the intervening nine months of the south-east monsoon, when there is little or no rain, and the ground cracks and gapes under the scorching sun, the dampness of the atmo- sphere, and still more the never-ceasing wind, generally strong and often half a gale, which sweeps across the promontory, are most uncomfortable. 88 A LUXURIOUS HOTEL I need hardly say it is not a town in the sense in which we should use the term in England. There are no formal roads with rows of buildings on both sides. The houses of the white inhabitants are scattered about anywhere and anyhow, and only rough paths and driving tracks lead across the grass and waste land. There are not many houses, the residents being only the Government officials, the staffs of two trading stores, and a small number of other people — most of them persons interested in mines and plantations in the interior. The house of the Lieutenant- Governor is about a mile and a half away, along the coast ; but the Government buildings and hospital and the prison are in the town. At the time of my visit there was only one " hotel," a straggling dirty wooden erection, boasting some bedrooms, but really little more than a drinking and gambling saloon. It was to this charming place that I made my way on landing ; and, before I had been half an hour on its veran- dah, I had two or three times declined urgent invitations of dirty, drunken men, complete strangers to me, to drink with them as a token of eternal friendship. I regarded the prospect of a few weeks' stay there with some dismay, for, little though I minded the true hardships of living among uncivilized natives, there was to me something loathsome about the filth of this hotel, and its dirty, tipsy guests. Moreover, I had to unpack and repack the whole of my luggage, separating the clothing of civilization, which I had worn on the outward voyage from England, and intended to leave at Port Moresby, from that needed for my ex- pedition into New Guinea, and effecting a redistribution of all my other belongings ; and there was no place in the hotel where I could do this. A FRIEND INDEED 89 Fortune then favoured me with her first smile ; Mr. Baldwin, the oldest resident of Port Moresby, and proprie- tor of one of its two trading stores, to whom I had a letter of introduction, insisted upon giving me the use of a bed- room in his house and the run of his spacious verandah for my work. Never had I felt more grateful for kind hospitality, relieving me, as it did, from the practical difficulty in which I was placed, and substituting the friendly companionship of Mr. Baldwin and Mr. Smythe, his busi- ness manager, and, last but not least, of Mrs. Smythe, who was in charge of his household, for the unsavoury associates of the hotel. During the first half of my stay in Port Moresby I was limping about the place, making my plans and preparations ; but the second half made me still more thankful for the good fortune which had sent me to Mr. Baldwin ; for the sore on my heel had spread to the ankle, and was so bad and inflamed that the doctor insisted on absolute rest. So I spent my days sitting in Mr. Baldwin's verandah with my leg up on a chair, and my meals were brought to me there by Mrs. Smythe, one of the kindest of women, who seemed to think that she could not possibly do too much for me ; indeed, but for her never-tiring help and attention, the possible months of helpless incapacity would, I am convinced, have proved a sad reality, and all my plans and arrangements would have been delayed, and probably to a large extent frustrated. Port Moresby seemed to be suffering from an incapacity to cope with the rush of work which was being thrust upon it. Prospectors, adventurers, miners and planters were coming in numbers ; but there was no accommodation for them in the town, and the Government officials, surveyors, builders and artisans of the place, already heavily over- 90 A GLUT OF TRADE worked, were quite unable to attend to their require- ments. Two of these visitors, immigrants from Australia, had secured an old open boat, placed it, resting bottom upwards, upon upright stakes upon the seashore, and so converted it into their dwelling-house. A party from Melbourne arrived — a young man with his mother and sister and another youth ; the two young men were proposing to join in some business scheme up-country, and the two ladies wished to establish themselves at Port Moresby, where they could be near the lads. They all wandered about, trying to find temporary accommodation, especially for the ladies, but without success, until Mr. Baldwin took pity on them, giving the ladies the use of his bedroom, and transferring himself to the verandah ; and the men only succeeded in getting most uncomfortable quarters. This arrangement was, of course, only temporary ; the ladies wanted to buy a house in Port Moresby, or to buy some land and build ; but no house was to be had, and, though there was land enough, neither agents nor surveyors were available to arrange the sale and stake out the land, nor builders to erect a house upon it. So the party gave up their plans in despair, and returned by the next steamer to Melbourne. I myself had the greatest difficulty in getting work done for me, simply because everyone already had more than he could manage. I had bought some old wooden cases which I wished to have strengthened and fitted with hinged lids and locks, for carrying trade goods and food ; and I could not find anyone to do this, until by good luck I came across a man who had fallen off a scaffold and broken one of his arms, and so was out of work, but was SCARCITY OF WATER 91 able with his one available hand and the help of a friend to do what I wanted. Another grave defect at Port Moresby was its lack of a supply of fresh water. There were apparently no springs there, and the people had to depend entirely upon water tanks, by the sides of their houses, in which the rain falling during the three or four months' wet monsoon was collected and stored during the rest of the year. When I was there they seemed to be perilously near a water famine, and the influx of visitors to the place made the matter still more serious. The life there is much what one would expect. The interests of the people go but little beyond their own dis- trict ; kings and emperors may die, devastating wars may break out, and the map of Europe may need redrawing ; but only fragmentary news of such events will reach Port Moresby, perhaps a couple of months after their occurrence, and no great excitement will be induced by it. Near to Port Moresby is an interesting group of Motu . and Koita villages. The Motu are typical Papuo-Mela- nesians, whilst the Koita speak a pure Papuan language ; but the two tribes have for long been closely associated together, the villages of each being close to, and even in direct continuity of, those of the other. The villages are all built on the shore, the houses being supported on long piles, and at high tide they are com- pletely surrounded by the sea. The dress of the men is a perineal band, and that of the women a grass petticoat, and their conservatism is illus- trated by the way in which, notwithstanding their close proximity to Port Moresby, they are but little changed, and come to the town and make their purchases in the 92 PLANS FOR THE EXPEDITION stores in the simple garments which have contented them from time immemorial. Unfortunately, owing to my lameness and the tim occupied in my preparations, I was able to see but little of these people, and have no personal narrative of any dealings with them to record. They are perhaps the best-known and most fully studied of all the native inhabitants of New Guinea ; and as the ethnological literature concerning the country contains a good deal of information about them and their mode of living and customs, their ceremonies and religious beliefs, I think I may here pass them by without further comment. The scheme of my expedition was to get to Yule Island, about sixty miles to the north-west along the coast, where I should be among the Papuo-Melanesian Roro people, and from there to travel inland up the valley of the great Angabunga or St. Joseph River, the villages of which are occupied by the Mekeo folk, who are very similar to the Roro ; I then intended to cut across through the little- known hill district of Lapeka to the Kuni country of the foothills, and finally to work my way up into the moun- tains, and so reach the villages of the Mafulu people, of whom practically nothing was known, and of whom I was hoping to be able to make a careful ethnological study. Considerable preparation was needed for all this. I engaged the services of an English-speaking Cingalese, Sam Silva by name, who had spent most of his life in New Guinea, had experience of travel and dealing with the natives there, and was well recommended, and I also hired two native servants. I bought my food stores, consisting mainly of Australian MY COMMISSARIAT 93 tinned meat (and horrible stuff most of it was !), biscuits, jam, preserved fruits, sugar, salt and tea, a few appetizing sauces and other dainties and a small supply of wine and spirits for use in case of illness. The food question was one which for a time caused me some anxiety. A past Government official, who had lived long, and travelled much, in New Guinea, and to whom I went for advice upon commissariat, drew up a list of what was requisite. I shall never forget the gradual development of that list and simultaneous lengthening of my face, for I knew of the difficulty of obtaining sufficient numbers of carriers in the villages of the interior, and my friend not only seemed to be putting into the list about two or three times as much food as I could possibly expect to require, but insisted upon its being a minimum, without which I must not dream of attempting my expedition. The following are a few of the items in this list, prepared to provide for my own personal food during a probable stay of about four months in the interior : — 360 lbs. of tinned meat. 144 ,, plain biscuits (with a large supply also of fancy biscuits). 60 ,, jam. 16 ,, tea (with a large supply also of cocoa). 28 ,, sugar. and these alone, excluding the weight of the other food included in the list, and of the tins, made a total of over 600 lbs., to which had to be added my clothes, tent and tent furniture, photographic apparatus, plates and developing tent, cooking and eating utensils, arms and ammunition, books, papers and many other miscellaneous 94 IMPOSSIBLE ADVICE things, and, above all, my enormous weight of trade goods, required as cash for payments to natives. But the list reached its climax when we came to the last item of rice for my carriers, of which he calculated that I should require two tons ! This was the final blow, as over| one hundred men would have been needed to carry the rice I alone ; and so absurd was the whole thing that during the j remainder of my stay in Port Moresby my friends there ] never ceased to chaff me about it, their usual remark on I meeting me being, " Hullo, Williamson, have you bought your two tons of rice yet ? " I was amazed at this impossible advice, which, though it 1 sounds like a joke, was absolutely sincere, and was speci- ; ally astonished at receiving it from a Government official, I accustomed to travelling in the country ; but I soon \ grasped the situation. It was one thing for an official, with a retinue of police boys and carriers, and all the authority of his office for securing their continued attend- ; ance during the whole of his journey, to travel slowly through the country, from village to village, his baggage ' being brought after him from time to time by relays, and left meanwhile in convenient guarded depots ; but it was quite another thing for an unofficial traveller, who wished to make a fairly rapid progress inland, and would have to be content with such help as he could get as he went on. So I followed my own devices, and reduced the quantity of food for myself to about half of the amount appearing in the list, expunged all but a few of the " dainties " which it included, and took only a small quantity of rice as a stand-by for my two permanent followers, for whom, I was convinced, I should always be able to get food in the villages through which we passed. ROMAN CATHOLIC MISSION 95 The ' ; cash "-boxes were necessarily a serious item in bulk and weight, as my money had to be in the form of axes, knives, plane irons, belts, pouches, red calico and other things, with a very ample supply of beads, " trade " tobacco and salt ; for these were the things needed to pav carriers, buy food in the villages and make presents to chiefs and others, whose goodwill might be useful to me. I, with Sam and my two Port Moresby native servants and all my impedimenta, were very kindly taken to Yule Island by Mr. Murray, the Lieutenant-Governor of British New Guinea, in his steamer ; and he personally introduced me to Monseigneur de Boismenu, the Bishop of the Roman Catholic Mission of the Sacred Heart, to whom I already had some letters of introduction from England. I stayed between two and three weeks at the head-quarter mission station there, receiving the very greatest kindness from my hosts, and, owing to the kind thoughtfulness of the Bishop, who placed a horse at my disposal, I was able, in spite of my lameness, to see something of one or two of the Roro villages. At last my ankle became nearly well ; so I decided to risk further trouble with it, and start off for the interior, more especially as I was promised horses for my journey through the Mekeo district. On the mainland, facing Yule Island, is the mouth of Ethel River, a little to the east of the Angabunga River ; into Ethel River flows Bioto Creek, and at the head of this is a Roro village, where there is a station of the Mission of the Sacred Heart. Another stream — Oroi Creek — flows into Ethel River, higher up, and on this the mission has a store-house. Bioto Creek has the unsavoury reputa- 96 START FOR THE INTERIOR tion of being a hotbed of mosquitoes and malaria ; indeed one writer has described it as the very worst place for mosquitoes in all New Guinea ; and, though I cannot vouch for the accuracy of this statement, I can truly say that I cannot imagine any worse place, though the neigh- bouring Oroi is just as bad. I have already outlined the scheme of my expedition into the interior. One convenient feature of this scheme was that, though my journey from the coast, through the! Mekeo country and Lapeka to the Kuni country, which took me among most interesting people, was a circuitous one, there was a short cut, through an almost unpopulated area, almost straight from the coast. This enabled me to leave a considerable quantity of my luggage at Oroi, and so largely reduce my impedimenta up to Dilava (the prin- cipal Kuni village), and then send down from Dilava to Oroi for what had been left there ; and the plan proved an excellent one. At 5.15 in the morning one of the Fathers and I started from the mission station at Yule Island in a whale boat, whilst Sam and my two boys with some of my luggage (the rest had been sent across in advance) followed in another. It was just before dawn, and delightfully cool, as we rowed out into the placid waters of Hall Sound. As the day broke we began to get glimpses of the distant mountains of the interior ; Mount Yule to the left, in form not unlike the Wetterhorn ; Mount Davidson, a long ridge with a precipitous gap bitten out of it, the latter reminding me strongly of Mickledore (in Cumberland), as seen from Walna Scar ; and a grand panoramic horizon of range after range and peak beyond peak behind. But I found myself gazing at less sensational mountains to the east, A TROPICAL RIVER 97 for there it was that I proposed to penetrate, and I knew not what lay before me. Discomforts and hardships I should surely have ; illness was probable and disaster possible ; but, overpowering all thoughts on these matters, was the longing wonder whether or not I was destined to succeed in my attempt to make a study of the strange, wild, almost unknown, cannibal Mafulu, whose villages were hidden away in the misty valleys of those distant mountains. My chance had come at last ! What was to be the outcome of it ? It took us about two and a quarter hours to reach the mouth of Ethel River. We could see two of the mouth openings of the Angabunga, though the coast here is such a confusion of mangrove swamps, mud banks and water that it was difficult to distinguish anything very clearly. The place is infested with crocodiles. After with difficulty getting the boats over the muddy shallows of the river mouth, we found ourselves in a truly tropical river, en- closed in a thick mass of mangrove and nipa palm, and winding inland in ever-changing sinuous course. Great tangled masses of water-lily, and in places fallen tree- trunks and branches, sometimes almost blocked our passage ; here and there were side inlets, which showed that the river was the centre of a large area of swampy, mangrove-covered ooze, whilst at times the mangroves were so thick and high that we seemed to be down in a river ravine ; the sickly smell of the mangroves pervaded the air. Birds, strange, many-coloured and beautiful, were standing on the water's edge, and on projecting logs, skimming along the surface of the stream, and darting from tree to tree, and the air was alive with the harsh cries of parrots and cockatoos and the plaintive notes of wood- 98 INLAND TRADE pigeons. As morning advanced, and the full sweltering heat of the sun came upon us, with never a breath of wind to cool the air, we were in a veritable vapour bath ; the air reeked with moisture and sickly odours, and I did not marvel at the place being a hotbed of fever. We reached Bioto village soon after 10 a.m., and I found myself the subject of considerable interest to the people, who had already witnessed the arrival of my impedimenta, and knew of my proposed expedition into the interior ; for here, as in most savage islands, there have always been mutual distrust and fear, and sometimes actual warfare, between the people of the coast - and those of the moun- tains ; and, though the more inland of the Mekeo folk have for some time past traded on neutral ground with some of the mountain people, the shells and shell ornaments of the former being exchanged for the stone weapons and implements and feathers of the latter, and though of recent years their mutual familiarity has been increased, the old fears have not been quite dispersed ; indeed the Mekeo people had that year been full of anxiety at the appearance of the comet, which was regarded, no doubt through the divination of the sorcerers, as presaging an attack upon them from the very people whom I was about to visit. I left Bioto almost immediately, and rode to Oroi, where the store-house was, and spent the rest of the day in separating the luggage which I proposed to take with me from that which I intended to leave behind and send for when I reached the Kuni village of Dilava. The store- house was in charge of a Filipino and his family, including among the latter a tiny girl, who had been bought from her widowed mother for the price of an axe, and thus saved FINAL PREPARATIONS 99 from the death to which she was destined at the hands of the Bioto people. I slept that night in the shed, and can only say that the evil reputation of Oroi as regards mosquitoes is well deserved. Early the next morning I started off on my journey inland, with one of the Fathers as my companion for the day and about thirty Bioto men to accompany me as carriers to the next village. CHAPTER VII THROUGH THE MEKEO DISTRICT I do not propose to give a detailed day-to-day record of my journey through the Mekeo plains, which was made entirely on horseback, as, though full of interest, it- was practically without incident. The Society of the Sacred Heart has mission stations in several of the villages ; and it soon became evident to me that instructions had been given by the Bishop that the great kindness which he and the Fathers had shown to me at their head-quarters in Yule Island was to be extended to me wherever I went ; and the Mekeo Fathers more than responded. I did not require my tent in this district, as I always had a mission station in which to sleep. Most of the Mekeo villages are near to the Angabunga River, and my journeys from village to village were through low-lying, flat and sometimes swampy country. It was generally thickly wooded bushland, in which little or noth- ing could be seen of the surroundings ; but the loss was partly compensated for by the relief of shade from the blazing sun above. The character of the bush, largely composed of gum, was rather monotonous ; though at times a pandanus tree (screw pine), with its curious pyramidal cluster of roots rising from the ground, and so supporting the stem, a wild bread - fruit tree, a fine 100 THE MEKEO PLAINS 101 cluster of bamboos, here and there a banyan (witness, no doubt, of many a strange scene in days gone by), or, in boggy places, a group of sago palms, gave it some variety. Often, and especially when near the river, the path was hemmed in on each side by thick, impenetrable masses of reedy grass, generally ten or fifteen feet in height, which, whilst they hid the view, did not give the compensating protection from the sun. Parrots, cockatoos, pigeons, and other birds were abun- dant, filling the air with their harsh, discordant cries ; while beautiful butterflies and otrier insects, large and small, of many colours — black, white, red, yellow, blue, purple, brown — flitted across the path. I saw very few wild animals, and do not doubt that such as there were would retreat into the tangle on hearing the sound of my horse's hoofs. Of flowers there were only very few. Open clearings or gardens, planted with sweet potato, yam, taro, sugar-cane, banana, areca nut and other things, were always signs that a village was not very far away. I might then expect, if it was late afternoon, to see men and women in parties of two or three or more, the women heavily laden with fire-wood, fruit and vegetables, return- ing home for their evening meal and night's rest. And the appearance ahead of a grove of lofty coco-nut palms — a sure indication of a village — told me that I had reached my journey's end, and that rest and a meal were soon to be my portion. The paths varied in quality. The few stretches of Government " roads," which I traversed, were as a rule fair horse tracks, and in some places were really good ; 102 A DANGEROUS PATH but even these were at times so narrow that the flanking trees or reeds on either side only just left room for me, and brushed against me on both sides as I passed. The native tracks were often difficult for a man on horseback, because of the branches and masses of creeper which spread across them, and threatened to strike him in the face, and perhaps unhorse him, at every turn. I found that con- tinual care and watchfulness were needed to avoid these dangers, especially as the horse, being well below the obstacles, disregarded them entirely, and was unwilling to stop, even when the decapitation of its rider seemed to be the only alternative. On one occasion my horseback travelling nearly brought my expedition to a disastrous termination. One of the native carriers was acting as guide, and the path through the dense mass of reeds, ten feet high, which I was follow- ing under his leadership, emerged on to the bank of the Angabunga River. The path was barely three feet wide ; on my left was the wall of reeds, and on my right the river, twenty feet or more below me. At this spot there was apparently nothing to be concerned about, as the horse was a fairly sure-footed beast ; but a sudden turn of the river showed that the path was so undermined by the river as to be a mere thin, projecting cornice, quite insufficient, as it seemed to me, to bear the weight of the horse ; and a joint descent of the path, my horse and myself into the river below appeared to be more than possible. I assumed, however, that the Father who had instructed my guide knew all about the paths, and would not have sent me along one which involved a danger of this sort ; so I went on, taking the precaution, as the path had widened a little and gave me more space, to take both feet out of the TRAVELLING IN NEW GUINEA 103 stirrups, throw my right leg over the horse's back, and sit side-saddle, as it were, facing towards the reeds, and ready in a second to make a leap at them if necessary. Happily no accident happened ; but, when I reached the mission station that evening, I was told that I had had a miracu- lous escape. It seemed that my guide had misunderstood his orders, and had led me off the proper path on a short- cut track, which was hardly regarded as safe for bearing the weight of a man, and was out of the question for a horse. Travelling in New Guinea is essentially a day-to-day matter. You may have a clear view as to the place you intend to reach, if you can, and the route by which you propose to do so, but all other matters have to be left to the goddess of Fortune ; unexpected difficulties may at any time arise, when least expected, and annoying delays are almost sure to occur. A patient and philosophic attitude of mind is essential to enjoyment of travel in the out-of-the- way parts of the world. Perhaps one of the greatest difficulties in New Guinea, other than those of climate, insects and illnesses, is that of procuring sufficient numbers of carriers. All the native tribes are inclined to be indolent, and unwilling to work more than is absolutely necessary. I do m t blame them for this ; indeed I think it is natural. Nature is prolific in her gifts to them, and a comparatively small amount of labour is sufficient to provide them with the food they require and such comforts as they know of ; so why do more ? I remember seeing a statement in an official volume that labour in British New Guinea was plentiful, which is perfectly true as regards the number of people who 104 THE LABOUR DIFFICULTY can work, if they will ; but, from all I heard, the state- ment is misleading as to the amount of labour actually procurable. When I was at Port Moresby, I met a man about to sail in his " auxiliary " ketch along the coast to Yule Island, and then go inland to the Mekeo villages to collect one hundred men to work in a mine or plantation inland of Port Moresby. I met him again at Yule Island, and was told that he had only succeeded in procuring ten men ; and I after- wards heard that, when he landed in triumph with his gang at Port Moresb}^, the number had dwindled down to three ! I gathered that in the mining and plantation districts this labour difficulty was a serious matter, and was ren- dered more so by the fact that British New Guinea, being under Australian jurisdiction, was subject to the Austra- lian labour law, under which importation of native labourers from other islands of the Pacific is prohibited. Whatever the advantages of this law may be, it can hardly be disputed that it places development in British New Guinea at a distinct disadvantage, as compared with that in German New Guinea and the other Pacific Islands. Indeed it seems that, apart from the actual need for imported labour, there is a further advantage in it, arising from the ease with which a " Kanaka," working in his own island, can run away at any time, if he feels inclined, a thing which the imported man can hardly do. In my voyage from Hong Kong to Australia my steamer called at four places where native labour was employed — Angaur in the Pelew Islands, Yap in the Carolines, Frederick Wilhelmshafen in German New Guinea and Simpsonhafen ANNOYANCES AND HUMOUR 105 in the Bismarck Archipelago ; and in each of these places I found that most of the natives employed were from other islands, and I was told that the running -away difficulty was the main reason for it. The difficulty of procuring a sufficient number of carriers is one which has to be borne in mind by travellers into the interior, who must reduce their impedimenta to the smallest weight and compass consistent with reasonable comfort and the accomplishment of the purpose for which they go there. I needed about thirty or more men to carry all I required ; but I could often only pro- cure about twenty, and I therefore had to arrange my cases and their contents carefully, so as always to be able at a moment's notice to marshal my effects, and decide which cases must be temporarily left behind. Even Government officials are sometimes subjected to troubles in connection with this matter. One of the Mekeo Fathers told me of an occasion when a resident magistrate's efforts to get carriers for a two months' expedition were met by a point-blank refusal, the men preferring the alter- native of one week's imprisonment as the lesser evil of the two, and even not seriously objecting to it, as it meant comfortable lodging and good food without work. Indeed, he said that the Lieutenant-Governor himself once met with refusal to obey his orders for the pre- paration of a canoe for an up-river expedition, though in this case the threat of imprisonment was ultimately effectual. The annoyances of these difficulties as to carriers are, however, largely compensated by their humours. The management of all these matters was in Sam's department ; 106 COLLECTING CURIOS but I soon found that he was almost useless in them, and had to take over the supervision myself. The luggage and the carriers being assembled before the start for the day's inarch, some of the carriers, if I was not careful and stern, would pick up nice easy loads, less than they ought to carry, and be off with them into the bush before I could stop them, and so leave me in the lurch as regards the indispensable things which they had left behind for others to carry. In a few days, however, I learnt my lesson as regarded these matters, and got to know how much weight I could properly expect each man to carry ; and after this I really had very little difficulty in controlling things. My arrival at a village was sometimes at first the subject of some anxiety to its people, this being based upon the supposition that I was a Government servant, and a con- sciousness of various little matters in which official regu- lations were not being strictly complied with ; but the harmlessness of my intentions being once assured, all fears passed away, and I was always received with perfect friendliness, chiefs and important personages generally claiming the privilege of shaking hands. During my journey into the interior I made it my busi- ness to collect curios, and this was a pastime which con- duced to much interest and amusement. What globe- trotter to the East has not relished the fun of dealing with the purveyors, who come on board at every port with their trays and boxes of ornaments, trinkets, materials and curios ? Who has not enjoyed the delights of beating these men down in price with all the artifices which his mind can conceive, and of afterwards displaying to his admiring friends the wonderful bargain he has secured ? Who can resist the silent glee of finding that his triumphant friend TRAVELLERS' CURRENCY 107 } has been " done " after all, and that his treasure has been '•."faked"? These two features of commercial intercourse, however, do not arise in the case of one travelling in the interior of New Guinea. The art of making sham curios for sale to the white man has not reached these simple people ; and buying too much on the cheap would be a most mis- taken policy, for you want the friendship and help of the people, and it is highly desirable that you should arrive at your next halting-place with a good character. It behoves you, therefore, to let them feel that they have done well in their bargains with you. But here comes the difficulty. Your currency is " trade " — beads, tobacco, calico, axes, knives, etc., and, though you know exactly what these things have cost in British money, it is difficult to construct a schedule of prices in such currency for garments, ornaments, weapons and utensils, or the crania of late -departed parents. My gold coins were axes and very large knives ; my silver ones were smaller knives, varying in value according to size, and other things ; the tobacco, made up into small sticks, and beads, large and small, formed my copper, as the quantity offered could be reduced to a single stick of the former, or a mere pinch of the latter. The people had, of course, no idea of the relative values of these various things from my point of view, and I was equally ignorant of the relative values of the things they had to offer me from their point of view ; but on the other hand each knew what it was he coveted the most. It is obvious that our trading interviews involved finesse of no mean order on both sides. At times a man would reject an article which I offered to him, and jump at another of 108 PAYMENT OF CARRIERS only a quarter its cost ; and these to me were happy moments, only clouded by the painful knowledge that I also was doubtless doing exactly the same thing. One lesson, which I learnt at an early stage, was that I must always keep my " gold " in concealment, unless and until i an important purchase was in hand, as these things, quite irrespective of their cost to me, were of the very highest value to the people, and the production of " gold " always produced an immediate slump in " silver " and " copper." The news of my first commercial venture in any village spread through it, and to other neighbouring villages, with amazing rapidity ; I generally had a steady flow of would- be sellers, and the opening of my treasure-chests and display of their contents w r as the subject of much wonder- ing excitement. This trading had a value in the more intimate and friendly relationship which it established between me and the people. They were, I think, generally much puzzled at my more extensive purchases, being unable to understand for what purpose I wanted so many articles. In one of the mountain villages, where I bought a considerable quantity of bracelets, necklaces, feather ornaments and other articles of personal decoration, the explanation suggested was, as I heard afterwards, that I wanted them for wear at a dance in my own village ; and it was recognized that I must be a very great man indeed to be able to afford and wear such an enormous quantity of ornaments at a dance ! The payment of my carriers involved difficulties of a somewhat similar, though much less complicated, nature. SAM'S MISTAKE 109 The Mekeo people display a remarkable unwillingness to go further than the next village, or at most one day's march ; so among them the difficulty of fixing rates of payment was not great. Unfortunately I began badly, as I relied upon Sam, who was supposed to have large experience, and found that he was paying the carriers six or seven times too much; and, though I at once reduced the tariff, it was difficult to entirely escape the effect of the bad precedent which he had established. I was deeply impressed by what I saw of the Mission of the Society of the Sacred Heart, both at Yule Island and in the Mekeo villages, and afterwards in the mountains. It always seems to me that the value and effectiveness of a mission, at all events as a civilizing influence, depend, not so much upon the religious denomination which conducts it, as on the personality of the missionaries upon the spot ; and as regards this I must express the immense admiration which I felt for my Roman Catholic friends in New Guinea. The care with which they learn the languages and study the customs, prejudices and superstitions of the differing tribes among whom they labour ; the tact which they seem to display in dealing with the people, avoiding, so far as possible, interference with the customs which do not gravely matter, and so having the greater influence in things which are important ; and the respect and confi- dence with which the people everywhere seem to regard them : all these were patent to me. What specially im- pressed me, however, was their great self-denial ; it seemed to me that, in their zeal for the cause, they were habitually 110 SOCIETY OF THE SACRED HEAR] contenting themselves with the barest necessities of life in order to encroach as little as possible upon the fund available for mission work and development. I am not . member of their church, so my testimony is that of ai unbiassed and independent witness. CHAPTER VIII THE RORO AND MEKEO PEOPLE The Roro people, whose villages are in Yule Island and on and near the coast of Hall Sound, on both sides of the Angabunga River mouths, and the Mekeo people, whose villages are scattered about the low-lying interior on both sides of the river, as far back as the foothills, are not abso- lutely identical in physique, and still less so in customs ; but the differences between them are so small that for the present purpose they may be taken as being in most matters practically the same, or similar. They are the most westerly of the Papuo-Melanesian tribes, as west of Cape Possession, at the eastern extremity of the great Gulf of Papua, the true Papuan area is reached, and no more Melanesian languages are heard. These Roro and Mekeo folk average about 5 ft. 3 in. in height, and their skins are of various shades of choco- late. They are rather well built, fine-looking men, and, as a rule, have not that sinister, furtive and, indeed, treach- erous look which prevails so largely in the Rubiana Lagoon and in Kulambangra. There seems to be no evidence of their having ever been cannibals ; and now they are all pretty well settled down, and their attitude towards white men is such that, in travelling through their country, it is ill 112 DRESS quite unnecessary to carry firearms. I felt as safe among them as I do in my own garden. The dress of the men is a perineal band ; but this is fuller and broader than that of the Rubiana and Kulam- bangra men. The women wear petticoats of grass, these usually reaching almost to the knees in the Roro district, but being generally only six or nine inches long in Mekeo ; their ornamental dancing petticoats, however, more thickly and elaborately made, and coloured in alternate vertical bands of red and yellow, generally reach the knee, or a little below it. After travelling among the Solomons, my entry into this part of New Guinea seemed to bring me into a new world. Almost everything — people, houses, villages — is different. The people are tidier and better groomed, the hair especially being worn in a large carefully combed mop ; more orna- ments are worn, and the number of varieties of necklaces, bracelets, arm ornaments, leg ornaments and anklets, belts and other forms of decoration adopted is considerable. Tattooing is only a slight and occasional decoration of the men, but is common with the women ; the amount of it, as regards the latter, varies considerably, being some- times confined to a little decoration on the abdomen, and sometimes extended more or less all over the front and back of the body and the face, which is the part done last. The colour of the tattoo marking shows only very faintly under their chocolate skin ; indeed I found that my camera did not bring it out, and some photographs of young women, illustrating the tattoo patterns, had to be obtained by first carefully painting over the marks in lamp black with a camel's-hair brush. DECORATIONS 113 Both men and women have the upper and lower lobes of their ears and the septa of their noses pierced, this being generally done when they are young. In the holes they insert various ornaments, worn chiefly at dances. For dances and ceremonial occasions they also stain their bodies and faces, the bodies with a red pigment mixed with oil, which gives them a shining appearance, and the faces with various colours and designs. A man in mourning stains his face black, to which are sometimes added spots of white or yellow. The Mekeo villages are very much larger than those of Rubiana or Kulambangra, and are in general form of con- struction long open spaces, with houses on both sides, facing inwards. The houses also are much larger, are built on piles, and have big verandah platforms in front. Outside, and generally surrounding, each village is a palm grove, beyond which are the nearer garden enclosures of the people, and often there is some open waste land between these gardens and the palm trees. The club-houses are very large, with long forward-pro- jecting platforms, and the larger ones generally have two such platforms, one behind the other, the rear platform being usually raised a foot or more above the level of the front one, and having benches, upon which the men can sit. Most of them also have remarkable roofs, projecting for- wards over the platforms like great pointed beaks, these projections generally narrowing down from the back (where thev are of the width, and in fact are continuations of, the main gabled roofs over the interiors of the buildings) to the front in unbroken lines or square-cut stages. The Mekeo people also have quasi club-houses, belong- 114 CHIEFTAINSHIP ing to family groups within the clans ; these are always erected at a considerable height on long upright poles ; but I could not learn the reason for this. The tree houses found in parts of New Guinea are generally places of final refuge on occasions of attack, but I met with no evidence that this is so with the family club-houses of Mekeo. The social systems of this part of New Guinea are some- what elaborate. There are various clans, each having its own distinctive clan badge, and in Mekeo certain clans are associated with each other by special ties, some of these relating to intermarriage and conduct of funeral rites. There are also varying grades of chieftainship within each clan. A Roro clan has a head chief, who possesses some dis- ciplinary power in stopping quarrelling and fights, and can pronounce taboos ; he takes the leading part in all ceremonies, and sits on the right-hand portion of the plat- form of the clan club-house during their performance. There is also a second chief, who performs the functions of the other in his absence, but who is inferior to him, and must sit on the left-hand side of the platform. There are in addition special war chiefs, leaders of the clan in time of battle, and magic chiefs, who by their occult powers secure success in war. In Mekeo, closely related though the people are to their Roro neighbours, a somewhat different system prevails. A Mekeo clan has a first and a second chief, but there is no question of the position (right or left) occupied by these men at ceremonies. The second chief, moreover, is in a way the war chief, and they have no other war chiefs, Mekeo Girls in Dancing Petticoats These are generally coloured red and yellow in vertical alternate bands. The girls decorate them- selves with all the ornaments they possess ; the crescent-shaped necklaces are made from large oyster shells, and the nose ornaments and some of the armless are of shell. NATIVE COURTESY 115 though they seem to have a form of chieftainship corre- sponding to the Roro magic chief. A Mekeo clan is often dispersed in several villages, and sometimes there is more than one clan in a village ; but in that case the houses of each clan are collected in a group together. Troubles, generally arising from some intrigue about a woman, or a dispute concerning a clan badge or similar matter, arise at times between two clans of the same village. j I had an illustration of this whilst staying in one of the Mekeo villages. It was late in the evening, and the people were dancing, when a man from a neighbouring village, in which I had stayed a few days before, arrived, armed with his war spear, and in a considerable state of excitement ; he explained that there was trouble in his village, quarrels having arisen between the two clans occupying it, and he had come as a messenger from his clan within that village to the members of the same clan in the other village, urging them to be ready to come and strengthen the body of their fellow - clansmen, if fighting should occur. The Mekeo people, notwithstanding the simplicity and rudeness of their habits of life and customs, are by no means devoid of ideas of mutual courtesy. For example, if A speaks to B about an article belonging to himself (A), he must speak of it as " our," as though it were the property of both of them ; but B in replying must refer to it as " your," that is, the property of A only. Again, if A and B are mutually, but differently, related to a third person, A must, in speaking to B, mention that person with reference to B's relationship, and not that of A. For example, if this third person is A's cousin and B's uncle, A will refer 116 CEREMONIES to him as B's uncle and B will do so as A's cousin. If, however, the relationship of the third person to A and B is similar, either of them, in speaking to the other, will refer to this person as our uncle or our cousin. A person speaking of himself to a relative refers to his relationship. Thus A, in speaking to his nephew B, says ''" I, your uncle," etc., and similarly B will say to A " I, your nephew." Is there anything more delicately polite than some of these rules of address in the forms of conventional etiquette in Europe ? The only form of physical salutation among these people is the rubbing of the nose against the other person's nose or hand ; and even this is only done by great friends, after a long period of separation. The Mekeo folk have several ceremonial performances. When a first child is born, the people of the village collect near the house, and sing all through the night ; and the next morning the child's father kills a pig or dog for them, and they have a feast. And when a boy reaches the age at which he should begin to wear his perineal band, his father kills a dog or pig, which he first hangs to the front of his house, and then gives to the boy's maternal uncle, and it is eaten by the members of the boy's mother's family; after this the boy is sent to the uncle, who in his own house puts on the band, but the boy's father and paternal relatives must not be present whilst it is being done. The last-mentioned ceremony, in which, it will be noticed, the mother's relatives take the principal part, is associated with the idea of descent in the female line, which is found in many parts of Melanesia, and to which I have already referred in the chapter on the Rubiana and Kulambangra people. CEREMONIES 117 In Mekeo there is a curious system under which a chief may in his lifetime confer the office of chief upon his suc- cessor, and afterwards the two are joint chiefs, either of whom may perform the duties of the office. This con- ferring of office is the subject of an important ceremony, which is the occasion for a feast, and, as numerous chiefs of other friendly clans are usually invited, and each of them brings with him a considerable number of his own people, the feast is a very large one. Probably some sixty or seventy wild pigs, kangaroos and cassowaries are killed, smoked and stored away in anticipation of it, and to these are added, when the day arrives, seven living village pigs. All the invited chiefs make their way, on arriving at the village, to the great verandah platform of the club-house of the clan whose chief is going to perform the ceremony, and there sit down ; and all the other people, hosts and guests, congregate around it. The chief then steps upon the platform, carrying the gourd in which he keeps the lime-paste used as a condiment in betel-chewing and wear- ing the insignia of his office, and with him comes the new chief about to be appointed ; then the old chief, in the presence of the assembled people, addresses the other chiefs, explaining to them the right of the proposed new chief to the succession, after which he rattles the spatula (a sort of spoon rather like a long mustard spoon, with which they get the lime out of the gourd) in his lime-gourd, and hands the gourd to the successor, who rattles the spatula, and then returns the gourd, and by this performance the conferment is complete. At the big feast which follows, the seven village pigs are killed and cut up, the fat of the back in particular being 118 VILLAGE LIFE separated from the rest ; after which the newly appointed chief, as a visible official act, cuts the backs of all the pigs into slices, doing it alone at first, but afterwards being helped by others. Then there is a general distribution of food, followed by a dance, which usually lasts throughout the night. I propose to deal with matrimonial and funeral ceremonies in subsequent chapters. One thing which impressed me in New Guinea, and especially near Port Moresby and in the Roro and Mekeo districts, where the people have been for so long in constant contact with white men, is the extreme conservatism of its inhabitants. In these districts more in touch with civiliza- tion, you find European axes and knives ; the adzes are often fitted with plane-irons, instead of with cutting-stones. Various other white man's productions have found their way into the villages, and some of the old superstitious practices and ceremonies have died away. But as regards dress, mode of life, clan and social systems, the con- struction of their houses and forms of their villages, and many of their ceremonies and superstitions, these people are to-day substantially the same as they must have been before the white man's influence had been brought to bear upon them ; and when you get into the mountains, you are among a people practically untouched by civiliza- tion. Come with me into one of the big Mekeo villages in the early morning. There you see the women in their scanty dress sweeping away the rubbish in front of the houses, lighting fires, and preparing the simple morning meals of taro and banana, or perhaps sweet potato, wild bread-fruit, yam, or pumpkin. There may, as the result of successful A Mekeo House in Course of Construction The floor will be added, and the interior walled in with timber on both sides and at the ends, with an entrance opening at the front between the interior and the forward projecting platform. A Mekeo Village Club-House __ This is usually a large building, and nearly always has a curious beak-like forward projection of its roof, the form of this projection differing in different houses; its floor is generally higher than that of an ordinary house, and can only be reached by a ladder. VILLAGE LIFE 119 sport, be some fish, or flesh of a kangaroo, kangaroo rat, wild pig, cassowary, or pigeon. Some of the food is being boiled in earthen sun-dried pots, made by the women of the coast, from whom the Mekeo people get them ; some of it is being roasted by simply placing it in the fire. If there is sago, it is soaked in water, wrapped in leaves, and then placed among the ashes, until reduced to a jelly. Some of the men are on the platforms of the houses ; but these are only the married men and very young boys, for youths who have reached the age of puberty are for- bidden the paternal roof until they marry, and indeed they may not cross the open village enclosure in daylight. You see them, however, among the men upon the platforms of the club-houses, waiting for their breakfast, or perhaps cooking it themselves. Let us now watch these people at breakfast. Some of the married men and all the bachelors are eating on the platform of the club-house ; but none of the latter must let a girl who is not related to him see him eat, as this would be a gross breach of etiquette, and would perhaps cause her to refuse to marry him. Most of the other married men are on the platforms of their houses. The women sit quite apart from the men, as the two sexes never eat together ; some are squatting on the ground, and others are breakfasting in the interiors of the houses. The eating is not a spectacle of refinement ; but they do not content themselves, as many more primitive people do, with using their hands for carrying the food to their mouths. They have their earthen plates made, as are the boiling-pots, on the coast ; and they have shell or bamboo knives, spoons made out of coco-nut shell, and forks with 120 VILLAGE LIFE two or three, or sometimes four, prongs, made out of bone of kangaroo or wallaby, or even cassowary. Some of the cassowary forks are rather artistically made, with perhaps two double prongs and carved handles. The meal is only a small one, and there will not be another regular meal till evening ; but many of the people will probably have occasional bites of food, or chew sugar-cane during the day. Breakfast is now over, and nearly all the able-bodied people are going off out of the village in different directions to their day's work. The men are probably going to clear some bush, cut timber, or make garden fences, though a good deal of time will probably be spent in sleepy laziness in their gardens, where they have built little houses ; perhaps some of them are going to hunt or fish. The women's work will be tilling, planting and cultivation in the gardens, and later in the day they will dig up or gather vegetables, bananas and other food, and collect fire-wood in the bush. And now the village is almost deserted, except by the old people, and a few women, who have remained to look after their children. But the yellow Dingo dogs are there, and bark, snarl, and sometimes, if we are not careful, snap at us, as we wander through the village. There are many pigs too, large and small, prowling with down-turned noses amidst all the offal and filth of the village, and snorting, squeaking and running whenever we come near them ; not English pigs are these, but descendants of the wild pigs of the bush, dark in colour, somewhat thin in body and long in face, and with long snouts, up-turned at the tip. The harsh cries which we hear now and VILLAGE LIFE 121 again come from white cockatoos, tied up as pets in the houses. So the still and peaceful village day passes slowly by. The sun burns fiercely down ; the moist heat is sweltering ; and a single walk from one end of the village to the other throws us into a profuse perspiration, for the village is closelv hemmed in bv the thick and matted bush, and there is probably little or no wind to temper the rigour of this tropical heat. It is now three or four o'clock in the afternoon, and the men, women and girls are returning to the village in parties of two, three and four. The women and girls are all heavily laden with fire-wood, vegetables and fruit, which they carry in native netted bags hanging over their backs, being suspended from loops slung over the tops of their heads ; some of them also have their babies, lying on the top of the contents of these big bags, or carried in smaller bags, or perhaps borne on their mothers' shoulders, or straddling sideways on their hips. The evening meal is similar to the morning one, and, this finished, the real social life of the village begins. The air is getting cooler, and the village becomes more lively, as more and more people come in. Groups of men and women are seated on the platforms of the houses and on the ground in front of them, and a number of men are on the platforms of the club-houses. There is much talking and laughing, and in places heated discussion, and shouting from group to group, and perhaps a quarrel or two to keep things lively. The light will soon be fading ; but we yet have time to give individual notice to some of these strange people. A few of the men are tattooed ; and the tattooed pattern 122 A VILLAGE DANDY on that old man's breast tells us that he has taken human life. Observe how proudly he bears his decorative record of the fact ! Most of the girls and women are tattooed ; it has been begun when they were quite young, and has or will be afterwards added to from time to time until they are married. Look at that young dandy strutting about the village enclosure, for the sun has set, and he is no longer forbidden to do so. There is no dance or ceremony impending, but his body shines with the oily red paint with which he has smeared it ; his black, frizzy hair has evidently received careful and prolonged attention, so beautifully is it combed out. His perineal band of bark cloth is immaculate in neatness ; and a fine necklace of beads round his neck, cut-shell ornaments, with coloured dracasna leaves tucked into them, on his arms, and bands on his legs, below the knees, render him a figure of beauty, which hardly requires the hibiscus flower in his hair to com- plete it. He is evidently paying court to some girl, and, if so, it behoves him to look his best ; also he must not bathe, and must refrain from all food, except a little roast vegetable taken with ginger in the evening, and his tight belt proclaims the empty stomach which his abstinence involves. See the petticoats of those two young women standing on the platform of their parent's house. They are much shorter than are those usually worn, and only hang in front and behind, leaving the hips and thighs quite bare. The girls are in mourning for a near relative ; probably it is their father, for the older woman, who has just come A Family Club-Hou.-e in Mekeo The village club-house belongs to the whole clan ; but sometimes prominent family groups have private club-houses of their own ; a peculiarity of these is that they are nearly always built high up in the air, being supported on long posts. BETEL-CHEWING 123 out of the house, and who apparently is their mother, has only the barest excuse for a petticoat, a few inches long, hanging in front and behind, and this is a sign of widow- hood. Many of the men have netted bags slung over their shoulders. These are not big bags, such as are used by the women for carrying burdens, for this is no part of a man's business ; they are quite small, and are only used for carrying the things which the men want for betel-chew- ing, smoking and other little conveniences of daily life. Most of the men are either chewing betel or smoking, so we may see how they do it. This betel-chewing is an old Malay custom, which has spread over the more westerly islands of the South Pacific. The man first takes a bite off a betel (areca) nut, which he seasons with a bite off a leaf of the pepper betel, after which he dips a wooden spatula into the narrow neck of a long-shaped gourd full of a white pasty fluid, and licks this off the spatula. This white stuff is lime-paste, made out of sea-shells. Notice how red some of the men's lips and teeth are as the result of their betel-chewing. If a big dance were pending, all the men of the village would be living on starvation diet by way of preparation ; then belts would be tied up very tightly, there would be much betel -chewing to allay the pangs of hunger, and they would be a very red-mouthed community. Smoking is a social habit all the world over ; but it is especially so with these people, as the owner of the pipe, having taken a pull from it, hands it round to his com- panions for them to do the same. The pipe is a piece of bamboo cane, about eighteen inches long and two inches or more in diameter ; it has been cut immediately above 124 SMOKING and below two consecutive partition nodes of the cane, and so was at first a hollow, closed-up cylinder ; then a hole was bored through the node at one end, and another flute- like hole through the outside of the pipe close to the node at the other end ; so that by putting the mouth to the bored end the air could be sucked out of the pipe, fresh air coming into it through the flute hole. The smoker makes a cigar- ette out of coarse native tobacco, wrapped up in a leaf, and inserts it in the flute hole. He then puts his mouth to the bored end, lights the cigarette, and sucks the air out of the pipe, which thus becomes filled with smoke, and, even after he has inhaled a little of this smoke whilst suck- ing, there is plenty left in the pipe. He then passes the pipe to a friend, who takes out the cigarette, inhales some of the smoke from the flute hole, and passes it on to another friend, who also inhales, and then probably replaces the cigarette, fills the pipe with smoke again, as did the owner, and returns it to him. The " smoke " is not what we should think a restful one, as there is so much removing and re- placing, and arranging and trimming of the cigarette, and so many short whiffs, some from the end, and some from the flute hole, are taken, first by one man and then by another. And now the daylight is fading fast and many of the cooking fires are very low ; but other lights are appearing, for the mosquitoes are coming out in full force, and will give us an unhappy time, and the people are stoking up some of the fires, and lighting others under and inside their houses, and on the platforms, to drive the insects away. How it is that these highly inflammable buildings, with their thatched roofs, do not catch fire from the sparks which fly in all directions is a mystery, and yet I am told EVENING IN THE VILLAGE 125 this very rarely happens. Many of these fires are kept burning till late in the evening, and the people sit round them in groups, looking, when darkness has set in, like a lot of chattering demons. If the moon is out, the scene is perhaps even more weird ; the dimly lighted outlines of the houses, faintly seen against the great background of bush, which closely hedges in the village and its surrounding garden patches ; the bright spots of fire, dotted here and there, most of them centres of circles of crouching, almost naked, savages ; the bush itself, with its thick undergrowth and great half- smothered trees, standing out in natural tracery against the moon-lit sky ; the groves of gigantic palm trees behind the houses, with perhaps a group or two rising from the centre of the village open space, rearing their long grace- fully bending heads high up above the outline of the bush ; and, lastly, the voices of the people, some talking, some laughing, some shouting, some perhaps singing their strange, wild, chaunt-like songs, and the monotonous rhythmical beating of native drums, complete a phantasy of sights and sounds, which, when first encountered, leaves upon our minds an impression never to be for- gotten. It is a strange experience to one who has not become accustomed to it, stranger in a way than it was in Rubiana, for here the village is so large, there are so many people in it, and there is so much to see and hear. It is difficult, as you wander in the darkness among the groups of people, to realize that it is not all a fantastic dream, that you really are the person who a few months ago was living under such different conditions at home, and that there your friends are still living the same old life, going to busi- 126 EVENING IN THE VILLAGE ness in their crowded morning trains, reading their daily papers, working in their offices and warehouses, golfing, playing tennis, going to dinner-parties and theatres, and always secure of varied and well-cooked, well-served meals at the appointed hours. CHAPTER IX MATTERS MATRIMONIAL IN MEKEO AND RORO Paying court to the girls and women, whether with a view to ultimate marriage or merely for present amusement, is the constant thought and chief diversion of every young Mekeo man who respects himself ; and in his old age he will relate with pride his successful efforts to induce a girl to leave her relations, or a married woman her husband, and to come away with him. The young man so enjoying himself must submit to various restrictions, without which he will not attract the favourable notice of the girls and women. He must in the first place submit to the food restriction or taboo to which all bachelors are subject, that is, he must not drink either water or coco-nut milk unboiled, or chew sugar-cane, or eat ripe banana or any fish or animal food ; and, when he reaches the stage of making direct advances to a girl, he must still further restrict his diet, as explained in the preceding chapter, and must always show himself oiled and smart, and be ready and able to help the older men in shooting, fishing, house-building and other matters. Feathers are often used as visible signs with reference to these matters. If a young man puts a yellow cockatoo crest feather in the upright white cockatoo feather com- monly worn by him in his hair, this tells all the world that he is courting a woman who has already had a child ; but, 127 128 USE OF FEATHERS if for the yellow crest feather he substitutes a small frag- ment of red cloth, the intimation is that the woman is enceinte. A white hornbill feather ornament also, though commonly worn in the villages without significance, may be used as a sign that the courted woman is married ; and a speckled feather indicates that she is tattooed. A man approaching a girl at work in the gardens, and placing any one of these feathers in a tree near to her, or hiding behind a bush and showing the feather above the bush, is offering marriage, and indeed the mere act of approaching her close with the feather in his hand may have the same significance. If the girl takes a fancy to her admirer, she often makes the next move by sending him some areca nuts or tobacco, or even by asking him to make some plaited bracelets for her. A young child or any other friendly person will serve as messenger, and naturally enjoys the goodwill of the couple. This message of the girl is, in fact, an invitation to the man to meet her, which he will do on a day which seems to him most propitious. He finds out where the girl is working, and, having well oiled and ornamented himself, he repairs to the spot, and there, concealing himself, peeps out at her. If she is alone, he whistles softly to her, and if she is with someone else, he throws to her from his con- cealment an areca nut shell or other light object. The girl looks towards the spot from which the whistle or missile has come, sees the man, and, if so inclined at the moment, comes nearer to him. A young man will sometimes pay a visit of this sort without invitation ; but he runs some risk in doing so, as, if the girl is not in the humour to go to him, she will perhaps not merely refuse, but will heap terrible insults upon hirn, COURTSHIP 129 even striking him, and sometimes invoking the help of her relatives. If the girl approaches her lover on his visit, they remain together smoking and chatting, probably among other things discussing the possibility of an elopement ; and after this a continued relationship is established between the two until the day when the man induces his parents to find the price to be paid for the girl, or perhaps persuades her to elope with him. In all these matters a multiplicity of charms of various kinds — sweet substances mixed with oil, crystals, love philtres and other equally potent agents — are used to induce compliance. The rising sun or dawn would almost appear to be the patron saint of love, for a young man will often at dawn remove his covering band and, holding it to the east, beg for good luck that he may prevail with many girls and women. A boy may marry at the age of about thirteen, and a girl at ten ; but as a rule the youngest ages would be more like eighteen for a boy and sixteen for a girl. Mekeo marriages are governed by a rule of exogamy, which makes it improper for a man to marry a girl of his own clan, of whatever village she may be, though he may marry a girl of his own village, who is not of his clan. The negotiations for a marriage are conducted by the boy's male relatives, who, whether the boy and girl are of the same or different villages, go to the club-house of the clan of the girl's parents in her village, taking with them and displaying the articles, other than animals, which they offer as the marriage price, and intimating what pigs, and perhaps dogs, will be given. The girl's relatives consider i 130 NEGOTIATIONS FOR MARRIAGE the offer, both as regards the articles displayed and the animals promised ; but they are careful not to remove any of the former until they have decided to accept the offer, as removal is a sign of acceptance. A girl must always be solemnly bought, as otherwise her family would be dishonoured. The girl's family, having accepted the offer, take possession of the things given to them, and imme- diately, or within a day or two afterwards, make an armed raid upon the boy's clan in his village for the pigs, and perhaps dogs. They go to the houses of the boy's relatives, carry off everything they find there, and make a general raid upon the pigs, dogs and coco-nuts of the entire clan in the village. The raid, however, has been antici- pated and prepared for by removal and concealment, and the raiders, so far, at all events, as pigs and dogs are concerned, do not get more than had been promised them. The girl's relatives then feast on the pigs. On the evening of the day on which the marriage has been agreed on (whether the raid has, or has not, been made) the girl, fully decorated, and two of her girl friends are taken to the house of the boy's father, and they remain in the house for that night, and, if the raid has not been accom- plished that day, they remain there till this has been done. Then a string of shells is given to each of the twc friends, and they return home, leaving the girl in the house of the boy's father. During all this time the boy has been hidden away some- where in the village or the bush ; but, the girl being still in his father's house, his friends seek him out and bring him home. He finds his bride seated on a mat on the verandah of the house, and he seats himself close beside her, THE CEREMONY 131 this being the first time he has entered his parents' house since he was a young boy and went to live in the club-house. It may be, if the marriage has been arranged by the parents, that the boy and girl have hitherto not known each other, and in any case they pretend not to do so ; indeed the girl turns her back upon the boy, who in turn sits with his back to her. There may be reluctance on the part of one or both of the couple to consent to the marriage, and in any case the girl will probably feign reluctance. Family persuasion may therefore be requisite, and during its continuance the couple remain seated back to back on the verandah. Then, the boy being willing, and the girl having overcome her genuine or feigned hesitation, the girl passes behind her back to the boy a piece of betel, or perhaps a pipe, into which she has inserted a cigarette, which she has lighted and smoked, so as to fill the pipe with smoke in the usual way ; and his acceptance and chewing of the betel, or smoking of the pipe, is the signal for one or other of those present to call out the names of the boy and girl and announce the marriage in a loud voice, whereupon all the others applaud, and the ceremony is completed. Then if, as is usual, the husband is not already oiled, his friends take him away, oil him, and bring him back to his wife. That night the wife again sleeps in the house of the husband's father, and the husband sleeps in the club-house. At a later date the wife removes the husband's waist- belt, which, until then, has always been worn by him very tight and covered, but which he will afterwards wear more loose and uncovered ; and it is a common thing for a youth who is matrimonially inclined to say, " Who will remove my belt ? " 182 SUBSEQUENT CEREMONIES Cohabitation may be postponed for two or three months, and in the meantime the wife still lives with her husband's parents, and he lives in the club-house ; and during this interval she must not work in the gardens. She is generally the one who decides when matrimonial relationship shall commence, and one way of signifying her willingness is to suggest to her mother-in-law or sister-in-law that they should go together to the gardens to work. Her presence in the garden is a signal to her husband, who then meets her there. After this, until the young couple have a house of their own, the wife continues to live in the house of her husband's father and the husband is free to live there also, or he may live more or less in the club- house. After an interval of anything between a month and a year or more from the day of the wedding further ceremonial observances between the families of the husband and wife take place. The relations of the wife give one or more village pigs to those of the husband, and the latter give to the former a similar number of wild pigs. Also the hus- band's relatives put on to the verandah platform of the club-house of the husband's clan a quantity of articles, which are taken up one by one by the wife's relatives, and the latter put on the platform similar articles, which are taken by the husband's relatives, an equal exchange being thus effected. All these matters of mutual giving of pigs and other things are, of course, always arranged before- hand. Then the husband's relatives have a feast of the village pigs which have been given to them, and the wife's relatives have a feast of the wild pigs which have been given to them, the two feasts being generally held side by side in two little adjacent gatherings. POLYGAMY 133 Elopements often occur. The girl will probably steal some of her parents' property, and the pair go off together to another village, or into the bush, and remain there until the anger of the girl's parents has been appeased, which may be in two or three davs or not for months. The propitiation of the girl's parents is effected by the relatives of the boy offering a marriage price of articles and pigs : but in the case of an elopement the price is not so great as it is in a regular marriage, as there is a certain amount of shame in the girl's family. The raiding by the girl's relatives takes place as in the case of a proper mar- riage, but there is no further ceremony, and the subse- quent interchange between the two families and feasts do not occur. Polygamy is practised among the Mekeo people ; but the number of wives rarely extends beyond three, and generally only wealthy men can afford the luxury. The ceremony on a marriage with a second wife is somewhat similar to that on marriage with the first ; but on the second wife coming to the man's house the first wife will often leave it, and he has, if possible, to appease her and induce her to return. One factor which makes for poly- gamy is the right of the eldest brother or nearest male relative (married or single) of a dead man to have his wife. This right may not be exercised for years or at all. The relative may give up his right to anyone else, or he may during a considerable interval go with the woman in the gardens and the bush, and perhaps ultimately bring her openly to his house as his recognized wife. Her entry to her new home, even if agreed to by the fir^t wife, is not, however, a peaceable one — at all events in form. The hus- band has with him a number of his male friends, all armed 134 DIVORCE with sticks, and the party, on reaching the house, find the first wife there, and with her all her women friends, and possibly some of her male relatives, all armed with sticks. A fight, generally only a sham one, takes place between the tw r o parties, in which the first wife's party try to defend the house against the entry of the second wife, and the husband's party, acting only on the defensive, support her in her effort to get on to the veran- dah platform of the house. When once she is seated on the platform her position is confirmed, and the struggle ceases. Divorce is easily effected by either husband or wife, but it is easier for the husband than for the wife. His method is simply to send the wife back to her father ; hers is to leave her husband and return to her relatives. If the latter event occurs shortly after marriage, the orna- ments and other articles given as the marriage price are returned. After divorce both parties are free to marry again. In the Roro district we find a ceremony which, as regards the negotiations for the marriage, resembles that of the Mekeo folk ; but the subsequent proceedings are different. On the wedding-day a party of the boy's friends surround the house of the girl's parents, and carry it by mimic assault with much fury and shouting. The girl escapes, runs away, and is pursued, and on being caught defends herself from her captors with hands, feet and teeth. In the meantime a battle royal is going on around her father's house. During the fight the girl's mother strikes every inanimate object about her with a club or other weapon, shouting curses in the meantime on the ravishers of her daughter ; but she finally collapses, and gives way r. a jg c z - £ '- z PS e — - .- >. C — — « — >\EF - 1L I ^20 ^jKfclJM 5^^^ a ^ "^^™ :*«. ^^r _ z - S : - S E | : Is 1 < : ■ a e - s 2 : S RORO MARRIAGES 135 to weeping, in which other women of the village join. She continues her laments for three days. The girl having been caught, she is taken in procession to the house of the boy's father, where she is placed on the verandah platform. The boy, on seeing them coming, runs away and hides, but is speedily caught by his friends, and painted and decorated, he protesting all the time ; he is then brought to his father's house, where he is made to sit down near the girl, and their marriage is proclaimed. The couple, however, do not take the slightest notice of each other. On the following morning the boy's father has to submit to a torrent of abuse from the father of the girl, which is only brought to a close by a propitiatory gift of a killed dog. There is also a pillaging expedition by the girl's people against those of the boy, somew T hat similar to the Mekeo one already described. In the afternoon the girl is painted and decked out by the boy's relatives, and the couple are again placed together on the verandah platform of the house of the boy's father, and again they absolutely ignore each other. On a repetition of the meet- ing on the third day, however, reconciliation between the couple is usually effected, and the girl hands betel to the boy, as in Mekeo. Finally the girl's mother, who has absented herself from all these meetings, comes to visit her daughter, over whom she weeps, until she is propitiated by the present of a killed pig. The second part of the marriage ceremony takes place some three to eight weeks later, prior to which the bride is not allowed to visit her father's village, or to eat food brought from it. On an invitation from the bride's re- lations the bridegroom's people march to the village of the bride's father, taking with them the bride, who, pro- 136 RORO MARRIAGES fusely decorated, walks at the head of the procession ; they carry pigs slung on a pole, and valuable feather head- ornaments, which are all given to the bride's father. Afterwards the bride is stripped of her ornaments, which are also given to her father, who in return gives to the bridegroom's people fish and bananas, which they take back to their own village and distribute among their friends, who have helped to provide the price of the bride. A few days later the bride and bridegroom again visit the bride's village, and presents are given to them. CHAPTER X RORO AND MEKEO DANCING AND MEKEO WAR FEASTS Dancing among the Roro and Mekeo people, though enjoyed as an amusement, is, as with most savage people, and indeed as it probably has been originally with all dancing, generally associated with ceremonies of one sort or another, these often being connected, or having origin- ally been connected, with some religious or superstitious belief of the people. One of the many occasions for a dance is the erection of a new club-house or repair of an old one ; and I had an opportunity of witnessing, in company with Father Desnoes, a great ceremonial dance in the Roro village of Siria in Yule Island, upon the occasion of the re-opening of their village club-house, which had been partly rebuilt and redecorated. Local chiefs had a few days previously visited neighbour- ing villages with presents of areca nut (the symbol of friend- ship among these people), carrying invitations to the dance, and a goodly company was expected. We arrived at the village at about eight o'clock in the evening, and found it lighted up with bonfires and hand-held flares of coco-nut branches. The front of the newly decorated club-house was completely concealed by curtains made of coco-nut leaves, and, though dancing had already commenced, it was at this stage regarded as only informal, being intended 137 138 THE VILLAGE CLUB-HOUSE for the entertainment of such of the visitors as had already- arrived — or, as it was explained to me, " to keep them awake " — until the real dance began. I shall say something about Mekeo dancing, to which Roro dancing is very similar, later on ; so I will here con- tent myself with saying that the people dance in groups, and that the dancing consists merely of slow, almost goose-step, movements by which the group progresses very slowly along the village enclosure. This brings me to the unveiling of the club-house, the great event, which the dance was to celebrate. The dancing ceased ; coco-nut flares were held in front of the building to light it up ; and we all assembled before it. The concealing curtains were torn away, and the newly repaired and decorated front was exposed to the admiration of hosts and visitors. The head chief of the village then stepped up on to the club-house platform and made a speech, in which he was followed by others. The main tenor of the speeches was the importance and valour of the people of the village, and especially of the speaker (this being a matter upon which each of them seemed to dwell long and lovingly), some friendly compliments to the visitors, and the beauty of the newly inaugurated club-house. This ceremony over, the real dancing began. The dancers were all fully decorated ; their faces and bodies were oiled and stained a shining red, to which were added, on their faces, bands of other colours ; their necks, chests and backs were heavily ornamented with necklaces, pen- dants of shells, beads, dogs' teeth and other things ; armlets, wrist-bands, leg-bands and anklets adorned their arms and legs, and bright -coloured leaves inserted in these DANCING ORNAMENTS 139 enhanced the decoration. But above all things I must mention the head ornaments, huge erections, some of them eight or ten feet high, made of cane, resting on the heads and shoulders, to which they were firmly fixed, and covered with kaleidoscopes of feathered trophies ; parrots, cocka- toos, water-birds, cassowaries, birds of paradise, pigeons, bower birds and others had contributed their quota to these gorgeous decorations. I have tried the weight of one of these structures, and marvel that men should be able to dance continuouslv hour after hour, sometimes all through the night, with such burdens upon their shoulders. I may say, as regards this, that there is often rivalry between villages and clans, each trying to keep up the dance longer than the others ; and the tucking of the pendent tail of a dancer's perineal band into his leg-band is an acknowledged challenge. As night advanced fresh parties of visitors kept coming in, and soon the village was so packed with people that I could hardly elbow my way through the crowd in the neighbourhood of the dancers. It was so dark that at first I could only see the dancers dimly, except when they were passing the fires on the ground ; but more coco-nut flares were brought out, and men carried these close to the dancing parties, in front and behind, to light up the groups, so close indeed that the flames sometimes almost swept across the dancers' faces, and they were constantly stepping with their bare feet in burning or incandescent fragments, this not seeming to incommode them in the slightest. I was much exercised by an extraordinary white, shining, disc-shaped ornament hanging on the back of one of the members of a party from a village on the adjacent main- 140 A NOVEL ORNAMENT land, where there is a station of the London Missionary Society ; and my ethnological interest was at once aroused by the belief that I had come across a native form of decor- ation which I had never seen before. This was before the extra flares had been lighted, and for some time I could not get a good look at this new ornament. At last, how- ever, my opportunity came, and I found that the object was neither more nor less than a white missionary card, on which was printed " Prepare to meet thy God." The ludicrous incongruity of this was none the less striking from the fact that the man w r as undoubtedly wearing it as an ornament, and not as an exhortation to his friends. This reminds me of a somewhat similar, though less humorous, puzzle, which I met with in Kalumbangra, where a strange new form of ornament, which I noticed in the pierced hole of a man's ear, turned out on examina- tion to be one of my spent cartridges ! There was much eager anticipation of the expected arrival from another village of a party, whose entry into the dance was likely to produce a lively scene. The Siria people had a grievance against these expected visitors, who on a previous occasion had destroyed a number of their valuable shell arm ornaments ; and the young Siria bloods made no secret of their intention to surround and hustle their visitors, a thing which might well end in fight- ing. At one o'clock in the morning these people arrived, all richly decorated, and with a fine show of the tall head erections ; and soon they commenced dancing by them- selves. Hence arose a further cause for quarrel, as they performed the " cassowary " dance, which was regarded as an insult to the Siria chief. I could not get a very clear explanation of the reason for this element of insult, but NATIVE PATENT LAW 141 it seemed that it was based on the fact that the Siria chief had recently acquired for his own people the right to per- form this dance, the movements of which are an imitation of those of a cassowary ; and somehow the recent death of his wife aggravated the offence which its performance by the visitors involved. I verily believed that I was going to witness a most interesting and exciting scene, as indeed was fully expected, but I was doomed to disappointment. I think it was the Siria chief himself who kept his people in order, and so prevented the fighting. This dancing question illustrates a somewhat abstract idea of these people, not unlike that of patent and copy- right, and not, I think, often met with among savages. They recognize the exclusive right of an inventor to that which he has invented, and he can transmit it to others. Thus it was as regards the special cassowary dance. Father Desnoes told me that once, having made for himself a bamboo smoking-pipe, with a division in the middle, by which it could be separated into two, and having after- wards made a hole in the pipe, by which he could hang it to the bottom of his shirt, he told the people that each of these improvements was his kangakanga (that being the native word expressing the idea), and they must not imi- tate it ; and he informed me that, though this was only said in joke, it was in fact a valid claim, and would have been recognized as such, if he had insisted upon it. The same term is used for a clan badge, in which case its importance is much increased, and any pirating may lead to serious fighting ; in fact during my subsequent journey through the Mekeo villages I was told of a fight of this sort, which had occurred the previous year. A party from the village of Inawi were 142 MEKEO DANCING travelling to a big feast and dance at Rarai, and in doing so had to pass through the village of Beipa. Among their dancing decorations they had included a clan badge, the right to which was in dispute between them and the Beipa people ; and so the latter attacked them, as they passed, and there was serious fighting, in which one man was killed and a considerable number were severely wounded. I stayed at Siria until daybreak the next morning ; but, though the dancing was still going on, and would probably continue for many hours more, I had to leave. And indeed I was dead tired, and should have seen little or nothing fresh by staying. My arrival at the Siria dance was too late to enable me to watch the movements of the dancers very closely, the light being insufficient ; but I had opportunities of doing this in Mekeo, and the following particulars are extracted from my notes as to dancing in one of the Mekeo villages. The decoration of the men was very similar to that of the Roro dancers, already described, except that with some of them the head decoration merely consisted of a single upright feather fixed on the top of the head. The dancers all carried drums, and sang and beat their drums as they danced. There are many — I think about forty — well-known distinct dances ; but I must here only refer very shortly to a few of those which I saw. In the first dance there were twelve men standing close together, facing one another in two opposite rows of six each, and progressing sideways very slowly along the village enclosure. There was no dancing in our sense of the word ; the movement was a slow progressive sideways shuffle, accomplished by means of a sort of goose step, and DANCE MUSIC 143 each step (that is, each double step of both feet) only carried them over two or three inches. The men of one row first moved the left foot two or three inches sideways, and then followed it with the right foot, and this was the step throughout the dance. Those of the opposite row did the same, except that with them the right foot moved first, and was followed by the left. At each movement of the foot they bent their knees forward and a little outward and lifted their heels off the ground ; but their toes never left the ground, or, if they did so, the lifting of them was too slight to be observable. These progressive shuffling movements were rhythmical, keeping time with the beat- ing of the drums and the monotonous wailing chant-like song. I have endeavoured to illustrate the combination in the accompanying figure. The top line represents the music Sana Hi^caC^A. ^ ^"n ^ ^"^ <1 "111 i i i beats m # m — o • « _ t^Ko L f L ft, gl* 1 Ea of the song. There was a tendency in the singing to make the first and third notes in the first bar rather longer and more accentuated than the second and fourth, but this was not sufficiently pronounced to justify my showing it '• in the figure. The middle line represents the beating of the drums, three beats and a rest to each bar. The bottom line represents the times of the alternate progressive move- ments of the left and right feet (in the other row of men the right and left feet). It will be seen that the rate of progress was one step of both feet for each bar. The drum- 144 LUDICROUS MOVEMENTS beating varied ; more commonly it was as shown in the figure ; sometimes, however, there were in each bar two beats followed by an interval of two ; at others there were three beats occupying the first half of the bar and one beat at the beginning of the second half ; and again, sometimes there were four beats to each bar, or only one beat at the beginning of it. As regards the dancing, although the general progressive movement was sideways, it was occa- sionally, evidently at known intervals, varied by the two rows stepping forwards towards each other. Most of the men kept time with their feet and the drums by rhythmical bobbings of their heads backwards and forwards, the feathers on their heads following these move ments, and giving them a rather ludicrous aspect. At intervals of a few minutes they all stopped, and there was a general unrhythmical beating of all the drums — a sort of finale — after which for a minute or so they were at ease, chatting and laughing, until one of them began again the monotonous singing and drum-beating, in which he was immediately followed by the rest ; they then all formed into lines again, and the dancing went on as before until the next rest interval ; and so on indefinitely. Later in the evening more men joined the dancers, and variations were made in the grouping and movements — for instance, for a time, instead of only two facing rows of men, there was a single row on one side facing a double row on the other, the hinder men of this double row having their faces to the backs of the men in front of them ; also the progressive movements of the group were sometimes backwards and forwards, instead of sideways ; at times there were a couple of men at the end of the group, facing inwards between the opposing lines. Mekeo Men in Dancing Decorations The ornaments in the middles of their heads are also signs of success by themselves or the >r ancestors in tattle. In some dances the girls are behind the men, and ho'd on by the ends of the long bands hanging from their waists. WOMEN DANCERS 145 Subsequently some women joined the party. These were all girls, as married women do not dance ; their decorations, though not generally quite so extensive as those of the men, were very similar, except that they had no ornaments on their heads, and that they wore their red and yellow ornamental dancing petticoats ; they did not carry drums. The girls often intermingled with the men in the same lines, but frequently they placed themselves at one end of the group. Their movements appeared to be more or less identical with those of the men, except that they did not indulge in the genuflexions and head- noddings, and they had no drums to beat. Generally, however, especially, as it seemed to me, when they were at one end of the close-packed lines of men, and so had more space, they swayed their bodies at each step with a side twist of the hip (rather like some of the movements of Arab and other Eastern dancing girls, but quick, instead of being slow), which made their grass petticoats at each step swing round and upwards, first on one side and then on the other, sometimes almost as high as their shoulders. When the girls were at the end of the group they were generally in front as regards the line of progression. I noticed that, when the party commenced dancing again after breathing intervals, the girls did not always all join in immediately, as did the men, some of them often standing out for a short time, and then slipping into the group, and commencing to dance with the rest, apparently as and when they felt inclined. In some of the dances each girl stood behind one of the men, holding in her hand the trailing end of his perineal band, which hung from his waist down to the ground, or K 146 WOMEN DANCERS nearly so. In one dance couples of men and girls walked side by side round the main group. Later at night many other men and girls came in 5 and some more complex arrangements and movements began ; in one of these the facing rows of men, with their atten- dant girls behind holding on to their perineal bands, dis- played a good deal of action in their advances towards one another, the men stooping and bending their heads down- wards in an apparently threatening way ; indeed at first I thought this must be a war dance, though I afterwards gathered that it was not so. The movement which struck me most, however, was one in which, the whole group being disposed in an oblong formation, with rows of men on each side and couples at each end, these end couples, with their attendant girls, crossed and changed places, passing one another in front of the rows, just as is done in one of the movements of the lancers. I may say, as regards this Mekeo dancing, that in many respects its movements bear a remarkable resemblance to those of the goura pigeon — a beautiful New Guinea bird — when dancing during the courting season ; and for this and other reasons I have come to the conclusion that in all probability the origin of the dance has been an imita- tion of this bird. One powerful Mekeo clan has a tradi- tion that they are descended from a goura pigeon, that an ancestor of their clan, though himself a man, had all the powers of movement and faculties of the birds, and that he used actually to dance with them, and so learnt the dance, and taught it to his people. The Mekeo people used to have a big war feast after a victorious raid upon an enemy or a successful defence against an enemy's incursion, and this feast was the occa- RECORDS OF VALOUR 147 sion for donning of the kefe or the iofo by such of the fighters as had succeeded in killing one of the enemy. The kefe is a large disc of white shell, in front of which is fixed a piece of turtle shell, fretted in an ornamental design ; it is worn on or over the forehead. The iofo is an ornament made of a tuft of feathers (usually white), fastened on to a flexible peduncle, made out of the quills of cassowary feathers, the upper part of the peduncle being covered with red feathers, and one or more upright feathers surmounting the orna- ment ; it is worn on the top of the head. Formerly only a man who had killed an enemy was allowed to wear these, and they were therefore insignia of which the wearers were greatly proud. Inter-village fighting rarely occurs now, as the Mekeo people are well under Government control ; but hereditary spirit and pride in the wearing of these records of valour make their owners wish to transmit them to their descen- dants, and this transmission is the subject of special ceremonies, which are, I was told, similar to those of the old fighting days. Before dealing with these ceremonies, however, I must explain two terms — the paangi and the aipa. The paangi is the formal ceremonial performance engaged in, primarily, by a man who has killed an enemy, and is therefore en- titled to wear the kefe and the iofo. He brandishes his spear at the height of his head, and in a loud voice sings a song peculiar to his family, and then in softer tones recounts his act of daring. Where the performer only in- herits the right, the act of daring recounted is of course that of his ancestor. This ceremony is, however, sometimes performed by one who has not taken life and has no inherited right, and it is then an act of bragging or insult- 148 A WARLIKE PARADE ing challenge, intended to provoke a combat in which he may earn the distinction. Also the ceremony is not always performed by the challenger himself ; it is sometimes en- gaged in on his behalf by someone else, especially by a war chief. The aipa is a warlike parade. Those who take part in it range themselves in rows of three, and so run rapidly through the village, brandishing their spears, with intervals of slow measured movements. Sometimes the warriors are attended by a large number of young boys, who beat their drums when the men are running, and during the intervals stamp their feet upon the ground in a rhythmic tread, corresponding to that of the men ; and I understand that, when all this is done by a large number of people, its effect is truly imposing. This brings me to the ceremonies, the occasion for which is the formal conferring upon certain individual members of a clan of the right to wear these honourable decorations. Friendly clans inhabiting the same and other villages are invited to attend. A small party of the clan giving the invitation start off in the evening, as soon as it is dark, make their way to the invited clans, and there they per- form the paangi and aipa, after which they place areca nuts upon the platforms of the chiefs and war chiefs of those clans, and to these is sometimes added the present of a pig. Prior to the arrival of the guests there is a war dance called falala ; the important persons and old men seat themselves on the platform of the club-house, and some of the men, generally the older ones, perform the paangi, after which the young men and girls form a rectangular group in front of the club-house, and there dance to the CONFERRING DECORATIONS 149 beating of drums, and the music of their singing, the men brandishing their spears, and the girls swinging their grass petticoats from side to side in the usual way. A pile of coco-nuts is provided, with which the singers ease their throats and quench their thirst. When night draws in the guests arrive, all armed with spears, and congregate at the end of the village ; and they and the people of the village remain for a time in solemn silence. Then the war chiefs and war-magic chiefs of the guests one by one perform the paangi, the hosts silently watching them. Next the hosts perform the aipa, after which the guests are presented with areca nuts, as symbols of friend- ship, and the hosts retire to the end of the village. After- wards the guests perform the aipa, traversing in doing so the whole length of the village enclosure. When this is finished, hosts and guests join together, and the war dance commences, and lasts through the whole of the night and part of the following day. On this day food, which includes raw meat, is distributed among the guests, and the con- ferring of the kefe and iofo begins. All the recipients of these decorations, that is, all the males of the clan, resident in the village, who are entitled to wear one of these insignia, but have not yet done so, including all ages, from the child at the breast, carried by its mother or sister, to the white-haired old man, range themselves in two facing lines with a space of about a couple of yards between them. Certain chiefs of the host's clan (generally the war chief and war-magic chief), carry- ing in their hands the decorations to be presented, and sing- ing the war song, perform the aipa, progressing in doing so between the two lines from one end to the other, and then 150 THE KEFE AND 10FO back again to the point of starting. And finally these chiefs perform the paangi in front of each of the recipients in turn, one after another, in each case proclaiming the valiant deed of the recipient or his ancestor which entitles him to the honour, and present him with his ornament or ornaments. Each one receives the kefe ; but the iofo is only given to such of them as have provided these chiefs with a piece of pig. It sometimes happens that all the members of the same clan, inhabiting different villages, meet together in one village to have this feast, which they all share in providing ; in that case the recipients of the decoration are not only members of the clan living in the village where the cere- mony takes place, but include members of the clan from the other villages. CHAPTER XI MEKEO FUNERAL AND MOURNING CUSTOMS AND RELIGIOUS BELIEFS AND PRACTICES The Mekeo people bury their dead in underground graves ; and, wherever the death occurs, the grave is always in the dead person's own village. Immediately after the death of any person, other than a little child, all the people of the village in which he died commence a period of mourning ; but, if he belonged to another village, to which he is taken for burial, this mourn- ing ceases immediately upon the removal of the body, and is transferred to his own village. There is no blackening of the bodies at this stage ; but the mourners abstain from dancing or singing, or any other noisy amusement. The relatives of the departed begin their mourning im- mediately after the death, whether it occurs in their village or elsewhere ; they must abstain not only from noisy amusements, but also from the use of red paint on their bodies, and the male relatives must wear nothing that is painted any colour ; also the grass petticoats worn by the female relatives must be the short ones, open at the sides, already referred to. Before describing the funeral ceremony, I must say that any persons of other clans, who have taken wives from the clan of the deceased, have the right to be present at the funeral, and indeed it is their duty to be there, and to carry out the funeral arrangements. These people are 151 152 BURIAL called ipangava (ipa= brother-in-law and ngava = father- in-law). The deceased is washed and dressed with a handsome perineal band, or, in the case of a woman, a decorative dancing petticoat, and is adorned with various ornaments. The body is then exposed in the club-house of the clan, or on an erection constructed for the purpose, and the widow or widower and nearest relatives keep guard over it and weep. Then all the other relatives, including often remote ones who have been invited, come in to see it, and weep over it. After everyone has arrived, and when the body begins to decompose, they remove the ornaments, wrap it up in a sort of mat made out of the ribs of the leaves of the sago palm, and carry it with tears and lamentations to the grave, which has been dug by the ipangava in the village, close to the dead person's house. In the case of a chief the lowering of the body into the grave is accompanied by much beating of drums, several times repeated, and blow- ing of conch shells. After placing the body in the grave, a little earth, just enough to cover it, is thrown into the grave, whereupon the widow or widower, who with much weeping and sup- ported by relatives has followed it to the grave, throws herself or himself upon it, and may remain there a long time, during which it is left only half buried in the way described. This practice is possibly a relic of an earlier custom of burying widows alive with their departed husbands. Eventually the grave is filled in with soil. After the funeral the nearest relative (husband, wife, brother or sister, etc.) of the deceased disappears entirely from sight ; enveloped in a rude bark cloth covering, he spends the days hidden from sight, and passes the nights THE IPANGAVA 153 weeping on the grave, though sometimes he will, during the night, make a tour round the village, visiting the spots frequented by the deceased, and wailing and calling to him. These midnight walks are only continued for a few days ; but the isolation and lamentation at the grave continue till the formal adoption of mourning to be mentioned below. The widow, whilst wrapped up in this covering, discards her grass petticoat altogether. The ipangava on the other hand have a much more pleasant time as a reward for their services at the funeral. A festival called the ipangava is held. This is a comic festi- val, which takes place immediately after the funeral. The (ipangava all assemble at the club-house, and dishes filled with vegetables are brought to them there, each of these dishes having placed upon it some ludicrous object with which the food is decorated. These objects may be ladles used for conveying food to the mouth, these being decor- ated with valueless feathers, or they may be half coco-nuts, stripped of their shells, which the ipangava are supposed to place on their foreheads or in their hair as a comic repre- sentation of the kefe shell ornament, already described, or they may be the bags which are generally carried upon the arms, but which in this case are old and torn — the humour in all cases being the uselessness of the gifts. But the real fun begins afterwards, when the leg of a boar or kangaroo is hung on to a pole in the middle of the platform of the club-house, and all the ipangava have to bite at it (a sort of game of " bob apple "), the younger ones probably being shy at eating in the presence of women, but the appetites of the older ones giving a vigorous zeal to their efforts. In this way a more cheerful tone is introduced into the party, and the occasion terminates with a distribu- 154 MOURNING DRESS tion among them of presents given by the mourning family. The general mourning restrictions above described con- tinue until the ceremony at which the more formal adop- tion of mourning begins, this ceremony occurring after an interval which may be short, or may be of several months' duration, the delay arising from the necessity of catching '•■ the necessary wild pigs, a process which may take some time. At this ceremony all the relations of the deceased, both near and distant, except the young men, present them- selves at the club-house of his clan, their bodies being more or less daubed with black, and those of the nearer relatives generally blackened all over. The heads of both men and women have been completely shaved, except that the former have left two little tufts of hair over the ears. There is a feast and killing of pigs and distribution of pig flesh and vegetable food ; after which all the relations, including children, wear mourning ornaments, these differ- ing somewhat in different clans, but being generally made of rushes or grasses, plaited into patterns, the designs of which vary according to the clan and station of the mourners. The ornaments worn by the more distant relatives are collars and bracelets ; but nearer relations generally have shoulder- and waist-belts, the waist-belts, however, being only worn by men. This blackening of the bodies and wearing of rush or grass ornaments continues until the removal of the mourning ; bathing in the mean- time is forbidden, and the relatives are generally also under a food taboo upon some special kind of food or delicacy, one relative perhaps abstaining from a special kind of banana, and another from tobacco. This applies also to TERMINATION OF MOURNING 155 the nearest relation, whose period of secluded isolation ceases when the blackening of the bodies is commenced. When some time, generally ten or twelve months, has elapsed since the last death of a member of a clan, the chiefs of the clan and of certain other clans specially connected with it hold a consultation together, saying that the village is "cold," that one no longer hears the sound of song and drum, and that it must regain its gaiety ; and they therefore decide to hold the feast for terminating the mourning. This is an important one, and much preparation is required for it ; pigs have to be fattened and gardens planted beforehand, to provide food for the feast, and, as the day approaches, hunting parties go out to catch kan- garoos, wallabies, cassowaries and other animals. When all is ready, messengers set forth in all directions to the neighbouring villages with invitations to the feast, carry- ing with them gifts of areca nuts. The ceremony commences with a solemn procession into the village of chiefs of the clans concerned, who chew betel as they walk, and make a rattling noise with their lime gourds and spatulse as a warning to the people to keep the track clear. When the procession reaches the village, a group of men is formed, each of them painted and decked for ceremonial dancing, and carrying his drum ; and these, at a signal from their leader, begin beating their drums, after which there are a few moments of absolute silence, followed by another beating of drums, as they advance into the village amidst the shouting of the people. On entering the village they are met by the relatives of the deceased, who loudly remonstrate with them, appealing to them not to increase their (the relatives') sadness by the desecration of dancing and drumming ; and these 156 TERMINATION OF MOURNING relatives even make a feigned attack upon the dancers for the purpose of stopping them ; but the effort is not effectual, and is not intended to be so. The dancing begins in the evening, and continues all the night, sometimes well into the following morning. The next day is devoted to the cooking and preparations for the feast. Late in the evening there is a great rattling of lime gourds and spatulse, which is a signal for silence ; then the chiefs of the associated clans, who have been in the club-house, step out, all decked with most valuable ornaments, and with solemn faces and slow and dignified step advance towards a structure which has been erected in the village enclosure, and festooned with vegetables, fish and flesh for the feast. The chief who acts as master of the ceremonies for the clan to which the deceased belonged then advances to the others, makes them a solemn offering of pigs, flesh and other things ; addresses them, explaining how the village was " cold," but they have come to make it " warm " ; expresses the joy of the village at their arrival, apologizing for the poorness of the feast which has been prepared, and begging them to condescend to partake of it. Then follows the final ceremony, performed by the lead- ing chief of the group of clans. All the relatives and friends of the deceased, who since his death have, in honour of his memory, been abstaining from certain particular forms of food, arrange themselves in a semicircle, each holding some of the food which he has been denying himself. Each of these is separately addressed by the chief, who, in speaking to him, refers to the self-denial he has undergone, swings the food two or three times round his head, and thus ter- minates his period of partial fast. The chief then removes * J ■ A Mekeo Village Club-House badge Jf'Se clan tVXn^V ° f ^ b J? ding: dec ^»ons, commonly including the clan- such asareseenTn'tJe p^u^e ^ ^^ ° n S ° me PartS ° f the building ' ° r 0n Pendants, SORCERERS 157 from the body of each one all his insignia of mourning, and places upon him the ornaments of ordinary life, telling him to resume the wearing of them as of yore. And so the period of mourning is at an end, and the sorrowing relatives return to their normal mode of life. Nowadays the Government, on sanitary grounds, forbids the burial of bodies within the village enclosure, requiring them to be interred in cemeteries just outside the village ; and it has placed other restrictions upon the practice of the chief mourners sleeping by the grave. The latter, at all events, of these injunctions, is not, I think, entirely obeyed ; indeed my first experience of the fear caused by their belief that I was a Government official arose from infringement of a burial regulation. The religious views of the Mekeo people differ consider- ably from those of the Solomon Islanders. In the first place, though they may have had an origin in some idea analogous to that of mana, it cannot be said of them that this is now their fundamental basis, or indeed that the idea of mana, as understood in the Solomons, forms part of them. Another difference is that, whilst in the Solomons the people fear, and endeavour to propitiate, individual ghosts, in Mekeo this is not so, their fears relating rather to ghosts generally. This second element of difference may, perhaps, be in some way connected with the first one, at all events so far as the ghosts are concerned, for the special fear of, and desire to please or secure the help of, an individual ghost in the Solomon Islands is based on the belief that this particular ghost is largely endowed with mana ; and where, as in Mekeo, the ghosts are only regarded as a general body, the question of the amount of mana possessed by any one ghost does not arise. 158 SORCERERS I think I shall be substantially correct if I say that the religion of the Mekeo people is a belief in certain individual > mythical beings, in ghosts and spirits generally (all of these being more or less malicious, and therefore the sub- '! ject of fear), and in magic and sorcery. Illness and death (except in the case of very old people) and the various other misfortunes which beset a man in the course of his daily life are usually attributed to one or other of these powers, and are generally ascribed to some act of sorcery, by which their malicious action is brought into operation. The sorcerers are extremely important people, and differ somewhat from those of the Solomon Islanders. There, sorcery can hardly be regarded as a cult ; as already ex- plained, any man may have access to some one individual ghost or spirit, and most men claim to have it ; and, though there are men who use their powers for the benefit of the community generally, and so attain to a position approaching that of priesthood, this is merely because they happen to be the " familiars " of the ghosts of certain chiefs or important persons, heavily endowed with mana, and therefore powerful to aid or injure the whole com- munity. In Mekeo, however, the sorcerers are a professional body. Their number is large, and they are a continual source of terror to the people, not only of other villages, but of their own villages also, though the people of one village often attach much value to a powerful sorcerer within it, in spite of their own fear of him, because of the services which he can render to the village in counteracting the evil action of some sorcerer of a hostile village. Their operations are now prohibited by the Government of British New Guinea on account of the mischievous SOCERERS' SNAKES 159 results which follow them; but the sorcerers are not yet exterminated, and still carry on their practices, as they have done from time immemorial. The fact is that it is by no means easy to get hold of them. Information of a more or less definite nature reaches the authorities, and efforts are made to identify and secure the offender ; but how is his offence to be proved ? So frightened are the people of these magic men that they can hardly be per- suaded to give evidence against them ; and this is natural, because the life of a person who has done this would not be worth much, if by chance the sorcerer should not be convicted ; and, even if he is taken and imprisoned, what reason has the native for assuming that the man will not be able to exercise his occult powers from the place of his confinement, and so bring disaster upon the informer ? Moreover, there can be no doubt that, much though the sorcerers are feared, many of them are regarded as most useful members of the community, especially, as I have said, as a protection against outside hostile sorcerers, and so live on terms of absolute good fellowship with their neighbours. The work of a Mekeo sorcerer is primarily the bringing about of illness and death or the preventing of them. The former of these operations is accomplished by the use of various media, the chief ones being snakes and certain magical stones. It is impossible in the compass of this book to give more than one or two illustrations of the various ways in which the sorcery is effected. It is believed that some sorcerers keep certain deadly snakes confined in pots, ready to inflict a mortal wound, when required. If the sorcerer, either on behalf of a client or to satisfy his own feeling of vengeance, wishes to kill a 160 SORCERERS' METHODS man, he procures a piece of his victim's perineal band, or anything else which will carry the aroma of his body, places it in the pot with the snake, covers the pot over, and makes it hot. The snake in his pain and anger bites at the cloth, which he perhaps regards as the cause of his trouble, and the smell of which he will probably associate with it ; all the sorcerer has then to do is to take the snake to some path along which the victim is expected to walk, hide in the thick undergrowth bounding the path, and let the snake loose upon the victim as he passes ; the snake, recognizing the scent which has such unpleasant associa- tions, attacks and bites the man, and his death is thus secured. It follows that death by snake-bite is generally attributed to the act of a sorcerer. This performance seems to be a fairly natural one, not in- volving the mysterious powers of magic ; but the use of stones and other articles for injuring a victim is a matter of sorcery pure and simple. A sorcerer generally carries a miscellaneous assortment of such things in a small-netted carrying-bag, such as is used by his more innocent neigh- bours for carrying harmless things — betel nut, lime gourd and other small articles of daily use. The following are examples of some of the articles found in Roro sorcerers' bags which have been seized by Government magistrates : stones, these being usually greyish water-worn pebbles and fragments of quartz crystals ; a necklace of croco- dile's teeth and other articles ; the lower jaw of a large lizard ; cassowary claws ; the remains of the claw of another large bird ; seeds ; fragments of wood ; and other things. Speaking generally, I may say that many of these various articles have been the subjects of incantations 2 •- II - — 7 < — - MAGIC MEN 161 and other ceremonial performances, and that the usual mode of performing acts of sorcery with them is, like that adopted in the Solomons, the placing of them in contact with something closely associated with the victim, as, for instance, some of his hair, a piece of his clothing, or the remnants of food recently eaten by him. The people there- fore regard them with the greatest fear, and are unwilling to touch or even look at them. Besides these true sorcerers, dealing out death and life by their mysterious practices, there are a number of magic men who place their powers at the service of the com- munity. Each of these specializes in some one department of magic. One attends hunting expeditions ; he chews areca nut, recites spells, engages in incantations, spitting between each incantation upon the leafy stem of a dracsena which he holds in his hand, and thus brings success to the hunters. Another gives his support to fishing parties, throwing into the water, where the fishing is to take place, the refuse of food which he has recently eaten. Again, another is a rain expert ; he has some magic stones, which he suspends by strings over a vessel full of water ; if rain is desired, he lets the stones down till they touch the surface of the water, and, when there has been enough rain, he draws them up again. There are also experts for secur- ing success of newly planted crops. The war-magic chiefs of the Roro people, already referred to, and probably some- what similar officials of the Mekeo, were in the old fighting days most important personages in time of war ; they doctored the warriors with mysterious medicines before the commencement of an attack, and, armed with various charms, accompanied them to battle. One is inclined to ask, as regards all these alleged magical L 162 MAGIC MEN performances, what would happen if the anticipated result did not in fact occur, as, no doubt, must often be the case ; and how can such superstitions survive. As to this, I would suggest to the questioner, as I did in effect in my chapter on the beliefs of the Solomon Islanders, that he should look a little nearer home, and say whether people much more educated than the simple, child-like savage do not cling to old superstitions, recording cases in which they have been confirmed, and forgetting others. No doubt the sorcerer or expert often has means, based on long experience in his own department, and quite outside his magical operations, of foreseeing probabilities ; and it may be pointed out that in many instances the failure of an effort in sorcery, in which the magic power of a spiritual being has been invoked, may readily be ascribed to the counteracting influence of a being of even greater power ; indeed this possibility is recognized, probably throughout the whole of Melanesia, and failures are commonly ascribed to it. CHAPTER XII ENTERING THE MOUNTAIN DISTRICT — LAPEKA My travels through the Mekeo villages had been easy ; but my entry into the mountain districts was the com- mencement of a period of hardships and discomforts. The start was made from Inawauni, the furthest inland of the Mekeo villages, and Father Egidi, who was in charge of the mission station there, came with me as far as the Kuni village of Dilava, where there is another station. The route to Dilava by Lapeka and Ido-Ido was, he told me, one which was but little used even by the natives themselves, and had hardly ever been traversed by a white man. We should be in a district outside the influence of the mission, and among very primitive folk ; and in view of this fact, and of the general feeling of mistrust, and sometimes hostility, which still subsists between the inhabitants of the mountains and those of the plains, it was thought wiser to travel armed ; so I had once more to take out my pistol, which throughout the Mekeo district had rested peacefully in my gun-case. Never before had I experienced such difficulty in getting carriers as we did on this start from Inawauni ; and the unwillingness of the people to come was made the more striking by the fact that even Father Egidi, their missionary, who was travelling with me, had the utmost difficulty in persuading a sufficient number of them to come. There 163 164 THE CARRIER DIFFICULTY were two reasons for this ; one was the reluctance of these people of the plains to face the cold nights of the moun- tains, the other was their fear of the mountain villagers. The second reason was remarkable, because the people of Inawauni have for some years past been in fairly close touch with those of Lapeka, and have taken Lapeka women for wives ; it only shows how hard it is to break through the barrier of mistrust and fear which is almost always found to exist between coast and plain natives and those of the mountains. We started off early in the morning, and shortly after leaving the village we crossed the Angabunga River, the men wading, and Father Egidi and I in a canoe. This was merely a rude dug-out, without outriggers, and, as the river ran verv fast, it needed some skill for the natives to pole us across, and a steady demeanour was required to avoid an upset. The other side reached, we commenced our inarch, a long, steep climb through such a confusion of vegetation as I had never before experienced. Think of the most difficult jumble of trees, undergrowth and bramble that you have ever attempted to penetrate at home, and you will have but a faint idea of this New Guinea mountain tangle ; of visible path there was absolutely none. And so it continued without a break during the whole of our ascent, and afterwards during the long weary day's march south-eastward along the great whale-back ridge, below which, at some distance off, lay Lapeka. We struggled on, every minute catching our feet and tripping over projecting tree roots, tangled ropes of rattan, and other creeping, hanging, twining stems, many of which were onlv a few inches or a foot or two above the ground, DIFFICULT TRAVELLING 165 and so were hidden by the great mass of vegetation through which we were trying to force our way. If for a moment we removed our eyes from what was immediately before us, we stood a good chance of being pulled up sharp across the body, neck, or face by a vegetable snake hanging across our path, armed perhaps with lacerating thorns ; indeed the utmost care did not save us from the thorns and prickles and hard sharp-serrated leaf edges, among which we were walking. Great trunks of fallen trees were scattered in all directions, some visible, some hidden by the undergrowth ; our first intimation of their presence was often a sharp blow upon the shin-bone, and our efforts at climbing over them frequently ended in a collapse, our feet breaking through the rotten timber, and we ourselves sometimes fall- ing headlong among the thorns and vegetable saws beneath. At times we had to make our way with difficulty across small side valleys sloping down to the Angabunga valley on the north side of the ridge, their bottoms swamps of decayed vegetable ooze and mud ; and many of them could only be crossed by a difficult process of balancing ourselves upon, or crawling over, trunks of trees, which lay in con- fused masses in the morass, and any one of which might break through, and bring us down full length into the mud. We never saw the sun, or even the sky, and, though this was, so far as the heat was concerned, a great advantage, we longed for a breath of fresh air, as a relief from the stifling atmosphere, reeking with the emanations of the rotting vegetation and black mud with which the ground was often covered. The Angabunga River flowed along the valley to our left, but we never saw it. We reached Lapeka in the evening, tired out with our day's labours, with sore and bleeding hands and faces, 166 LAPEKA VILLAGE and feet, legs, hands and wrists inflamed and irritating from the attacks of scrub itch ; Father Egidi had also been worried by leeches, though for some mysterious reason they had not attacked me ; and so I wearily super- intended the pitching of our tent in the middle of the village enclosure. Lapeka is a Kuni village ; but, as its proximity to the Mekeo village of Inawauni has caused much intermingling of Mekeo blood and the introduction into it of some Mekeo customs, I postpone describing the Kuni until I reach Ido-Ido, where the people are Kuni pure and unmixed. One curious characteristic of some of the people of Lapeka, which I never met with anywhere else in New Guinea, is a tendency to flatness of face, specially marked in some of the women, which, combined with finely cut noses and mouths, and bright, sparkling eyes, made them really very pretty, especially when seen in profile. I have not been able to arrive at any satisfactory, or even reasonably possible, explanation of this purely local peculiarity. The Lapeka people did not appear particularly pleased to see us, nor indeed were they so ; for, as we afterwards learnt, they were very angry with our Mekeo carriers for having brought white men to the village, and even threat- ened to kill these carriers, by way of punishment, on their return journey, though we did not think this threat was seriously meant. They did not, however, exhibit any signs of active hostility towards us, and we never felt that there was any ground for anxiety. On the day following that of our arrival we paid off our Mekeo carriers, some of whom, by the way, were women (a most unusual thing among the Mekeo people, though frequent enough in the mountains), and they all returned PAYING THE CARRIERS 167 home, except eight or nine, who decided to go on further with us, and then return another way. I gathered that their chief reason for doing this was their anxiety at the threats with which they had been assailed, for of course none of them had brought their weapons, and, as we had two guns and a pistol, they naturally regarded us as some- what of a protection to them. The paying off of these people seemed likely to be a complicated matter, as some of them had done a little carrying in Mekeo, and so had given longer service, and those who had struggled with the heavier packages up those steep slopes, and through that matted mass of jungle, were clearly entitled to special consideration. We there- fore hit upon what proved to be an excellent plan ; we paid them in tobacco, so that we could graduate each man's and woman's payment in equitable accord with what he or she had done for us. And then we opened shop, selling them such articles of trade as took their fancy, and receiving payment in the tobacco sticks which we had previously handed to them. It was a scene of the wildest excitement ; the carriers — about thirty altogether — col- lected round us, shouting and gesticulating like madmen ; and around them crowded the Lapeka people, eager lookers-on at such a scene within their village as it had probably never before been their lot to witness. The whole thing was extremely entertaining. None of these people have more than the most rudimentary idea of counting ; many of them cannot count at all, others only up to two, and only a few learned ones can get as far as five or ten. We sometimes had considerable difficulty in making them understand, and there were grave wrest- lings with arithmetical problems, in which the men of figures 168 TRADING helped the others. We took them one by one in turn, finishing with one man before we started business with the next, a process which at first caused evident anxiety to those behind, who saw all sorts of attractive things being borne away before their turn had come ; indeed so great was this distress that we had to open up our stores to satisfy the anxious ones that there was no immediate danger of the bank being broken before they had a chance of draw- ing from it. Often one of them offered, say, three sticks of tobacco for an article which he could only have for five ; and, though we could make him understand that it was not enough, he was quite unable to understand how much more was needed. Sometimes the difficulty was got over by inducing him to take some lower-priced article ; but, if he had set his heart on what he had first wanted, he would go to some other man or woman — probably a brother or sister, or near friend — who would bring his tobacco into the market, and we picked out of it the number of pieces needed to make up the amount. What the position between the two people would be — whether one of joint purchase or of financial accommodation — is a point on which I cannot venture to speculate. One feature of the whole business, which impressed me a good deal, was the way in which they seemed to trust us ; they never, so far as I could judge, seemed to have any suspicion that we were " doing " them, which of course we were not. The fact is they were like innocent, excitable children, and no doubt their experience of Father Egidi in their own village had taught them his fairness in dealing with them. The eternal feminine displayed her- self at times ; and there were most amusing scenes of lads with cherished treasures, careering round the village, WOMEN CARRIERS 169 hotly pursued by maidens — sweethearts or sisters prob- ably — intent on robbing them of their trophies ; and I noticed that the girls generally seemed to come off vic- torious. I regarded the whole performance with some satisfac- tion, because we were now in a district where villages were but small, and where the carrying difficulty would prob- ably be more acute, and I hoped that the evident satisfac- tion which the Mekeo boys felt at our treatment of them would produce a good effect upon the minds of the Lapeka folk, which in fact I am sure it did, notwithstanding the carrying difficulties which we afterwards experienced. After a long delay in trying to get carriers, we next morning started off again for Ido-Ido with our few remain- ing Mekeo men and others, some of the latter being women, from Lapeka and neighbouring villages. I here learnt a useful lesson — that in the mountains women will carry as readily as men, and will carry heavier loads. Several times since then I have had single women carrying weights which would have required the united efforts of two men. I really think that in this respect the women are actually stronger than the men ; and indeed a remarkable feature of the Kuni and Mafulu women is the strong development of their thighs. Xo doubt this is largely due to the heavy daily work of carrying wood and vegetables, which is done exclusively by the women. I was going lame again ; my right ankle had begun to trouble me afresh, and I had a painful sore forming on my left shin-bone. This sore was in fact my own unconscious doing, for, though I had been most rigorous when wide awake in avoiding scratching, I had unfortunately had a grand field day (or rather night) with my left leg when half 170 A DANGEROUS TRIBE asleep, and barely conscious of what I was doing. And now I was being punished for it. The march continued for some distance south-eastwards along the whale-back ridge, and was just as difficult as before. Once indeed we reached an open space, from which we could see Mount Davidson towering up close to us, beyond the Angabunga River ; but in a few minutes we had again plunged into the deep recesses of the thick, tangled, matted, steaming, rotting bush. We were now on the extreme confines of what might be regarded as reasonably safe country ; for just below us was the river, and on the other side of it was the country of the Boboi, a cannibal tribe of most unsavoury reputa- tion, quite beyond all fear of Government, hostile to white men, and indeed to anyone but themselves, and among whom it would be suicidal to venture, except with a strong armed escort. During this march we saw a number of hornbills, with their huge arched beaks, and started a cassowary, a wallaby and a pig. I also killed a small black snake, which was, I was told, one of the most venomous in New Guinea, its bite being certain death in about fifteen minutes, according to Sam, though Father Egidi thought you were given an hour or two to settle up your affairs. It may perhaps have been noticed that I have said very little about the larger fauna and the flora ; the fact is that in New Guinea, as in the Solomons, I saw extremely few of the former, as I generally had some of my carriers in front of me, and the creatures were all frightened away before I could get a chance of seeing them. And as regards interest- ing flowers, I can confirm statements of other writers as to their rarity ; orchids I saw in quantities ; but, as I have LOSING THE WAY 17 L already mentioned, the only one of these which was in bloom was on the seashore of Kulambangra, and the only other flowers of striking appearance which I saw in New Guinea were those of plants of the balsam family, growing in the mountains in moist places — generally by streams where the bush overhead was not so dense. Some of these were bright rich vermilion (probably Impatiens Herzogii), others pale washed-out vermilion (possibly sports of the same), and again others were of a more crimson red (perhaps Impatiens Hawkeri). During this day's march along the ridge we were again worried by scrub-itch and leeches, and again the latter for some unknown reason attacked Father Egidi and let me alone. We were both very tired when we stopped for a rest and to wait for the luggage, nearly all of which (in charge of Sam) had got behind us, owing to the extreme difficulty of carrying through the bush, and would, we knew, be some distance off. It was at this juncture that the Lapeka man who was acting as our guide, after much anxious gazing in all directions, told us that he had lost his way, and did not know where we were, or in which direction we ought now to go. This was not, it seemed to us, quite so serious as it sounded, because Ave knew that by following the whale-back ridge we had been going in the right direction ; but the difficulty was that to get to Ido-Ido we had to descend the left slope of the ridge, and in consequence of the precipitous nature of the descent, there was only one point at which it was practicable. It was quite on the cards therefore that we might wander about for a day or two, trying to find our way to Ido-Ido. By extraordinary good luck, however, whilst we were discussing the matter, a local native appeared, travelling 172 A DESERTED VILLAGE in our direction, and said he could guide us to Ido-Ido ; and, as he also told us that he had passed our luggage a very long way behind us, we decided to follow his lead, and push on, leaving the luggage to follow as best it might. Then came a few hours more of the trackless tramp, after which we began to descend ; and soon we were zig- zagging down an extremely steep ravine in the side of the precipitous wall of the mountain. The descent was to me rather trying, as the ravine itself was little better than a precipice, and we had to skirt along edges of apparently only a few inches of sloping ground, so overgrown with vegetation that sometimes I could not make up my mind whether the next step which I proposed to take would be upon ground or in mid-air, an important question, as in the latter case my descent would be a rapid one. How the natives with the luggage got down after us is to me a mystery ; but their bare feet give them some extra security, and they must be well accustomed to overgrown paths down steep mountain sides, and know instinctively where to tread. After a long and most unpleasant descent, during which we had a magnificent panoramic view of the river below us and Mount Davidson beyond it, we at last reached the valley, and were comforted by the assurance that we were now close to Ido-Ido. And surely enough our guide shortly afterwards led us up to — the remains of a ruined and deserted village, of which little more than a single relic of a roofless hut had survived the encroachments of nature ! The villagers of Ido-Ido had migrated elsewhere. This was a disappointment, especially as dusk was approaching, and I was certain that the luggage would be unable to get down the precipice before night fell, so that ■ > 3 z -r ^" >» * d O 1 ! 9 : — a z o. — A IDO-IDO 173 we should be without our tent or any other sort of shelter, without clothes to change into from the soaking wet things we wore, and practically without food, as we only had with us the small remnants of a little food we had carried with us to eat in the middle of the day. And then, to make matters worse, the rain began to fall, and in a few minutes was coming down in torrents. There was, however, no doubt as to our course of action. To remain inactive all night there, or anywhere else, was out of the question, as it would probably have ended in serious fever or worse. Tired and foodless though we were, we must keep on moving, even if we had to do so all the night ; so the obvious thing was to continue our search for the new Ido-Ido. For this we still retained the services of our newly acquired guide, who, after all, had led us correctly to the Ido-Ido he had known ; and we had some idea of the probable direction of the place, as it would certainly not be up on the ridge which we had descended, or across the river ; so it was a case of either searching to the north- west or the south-east, and there were grounds for thinking that the latter direction was much the more probable one. Nothing, however, is easier in these parts than to pass within a few hundred yards of one of the tiny villages without seeing it. Happily this misfortune did not occur ; after an hour or two of wandering through a wilderness of rock and bush, during which our guide several times decided that he was going wrong, and made us retrace our steps, we at last saw a few native houses, which he declared to be Ido- Ido. We had had ten hours' almost continuous struggle 174 DUPLICATE VILLAGES through the bush, and, though the rain had ceased, we were wet to the skin and completely worn out ; I remember no occasion on which I have felt greater relief at reaching my destination ; indeed the only trouble was the absence of changes of clothes, and the danger of sleep- ing in soaking garments, for we had no doubt we could get shelter and food of some sort, and the absence of our tent and commissariat was therefore a trifle, compared with what it would have been if we had been compelled to spend the night wandering in the bush. The Ido-Ido in which we soon found ourselves proved to be an amazingly small place, consisting merely of two tiny huts and a minute club-house ; and its occupants were an old man and his wife, his son and his son's wife, his daughter and her husband, a little girl, two small boys, a baby and some pigs. The " village " was crowded to- gether on a small clearing, about large enough to swing a cat in, on the top of a little knoll rising up in the valley a few hundred feet away from the Angabunga River. We learnt that there was another and larger Ido-Ido village quite close to ; and this illustrates a peculiar Kuni system under which clusters of villages, all bearing the same name, are built at short distances apart ; in fact the villages near Lapeka (already referred to) were also called Lapeka. The Ido-Ido village, the relics of which we had first found, had, they told us, been deserted a year or two before, the people having then migrated to their present district ; so it was not surprising that so little of it was left. The Kuni people, I may say, desert their villages, and migrate else- where, fairly often ; so that a traveller to a village, who has not been there quite recently, may often find himself in MAKING THE BEST OF IT 175 the dilemma in which "\ve were placed. A naturally restless disposition, coupled with the desire to make fresh clearings for their gardens, are, I gather, the reasons for these move- ments ; and they must be easily carried out, as the houses are most rudely built, and could hardly, I should imagine, stand for more than a very few years. I never heard any- thing of village desertion by the Kuni for superstitious reasons, such as I have described in one of my chapters on the Solomons. Tired out as we were, we were not inclined to start off again to the larger village, and decided to avail ourselves of the hospitality, for that night at all events, of the old man and his family. So we made a fire, and by the light of our lantern prepared our evening meal. Our own store of food consisted only of a little coffee, a few biscuits and a flask of brandy ; but our hosts gave us some sweet potatoes, which we boiled, and some sugar-cane, which we chewed ; so our plight was not very bad after all, and the few carriers who were with us had food with them. We and our men slept crowded together in the club-house ; and notwithstanding the attentions of the beetles, which swarmed the place, and were running all over us, and the constant vibration of the ramshackle little structure, caused bv the restlessness of our carriers, and the troubles of still fresh developments of scrub-itch, sheer weariness of body made us sleep soundly. Next morning Sam and the general body of carriers with the remaining baggage did not arrive early, as we had expected, so we had to be content with some more sugar- cane chewing by way of breakfast. Between eleven and twelve the men began to come in in driblets. Poor Sam had had a lively time of it. Two of the Mekeo carriers had 176 MAKING THE BEST OF IT deserted, a Lapeka man had been hurt, and the party had had to spend the night at the top of the precipice, which, as I expected, they had not reached in time to descend before dusk. The descent into the valley in the morning too had been most difficult, as they had had to let the larger cases down each stage most carefully, one by one, six or eight men above holding on to the ropes of a case whilst it was being handled by the others below. It was fortunate that none of my carriers or luggage had met with an accident in the process. There was no room for our baggage on our tiny village plateau, so, as it came in, I had it taken on to the adjacent larger village, which boasted five private houses and a club-house, and where there was also a village space in which I could pitch my tent and deposit our belongings. CHAPTER XIII IN THE MOUNTAIN DISTRICT — IDO-IDO — THE KUNI PEOPLE Our arrival with our carriers and baggage was the subject of some excitement to these Ido-Ido people, who, I believe, had never seen anything of the sort before, except on one occasion, some years previously, when the Mekeo resident magistrate, with his big retinue of carriers and armed police, had passed through their district ; and the pitching of our tent, the spectacle of the paying-off of our carriers, and opening out of our stores created even greater interest. We were told that a big feast was taking place in a village a few hours' walk away, and that most of the men of the Ido-Ido villages were there, so that we should not be able to procure carriers till the next day but one ; and, though I was eager to push ahead and get to my work at Mafulu, a delay of a day was a small matter. I had, however, as will be seen, to wait a good deal longer for carriers ; but the time was not altogether wasted, as it enabled me to observe things which I should not have done in a hurried passing through. The only pity was that day to day promises of carriers prevented my going to the feast village, as I alwavs had reason to believe that, if I went there, I should not only be just too late for the feast, but might lose my carriers, through not being at hand when the people turned up. My inspection of the village of Ido-Ido and its surround- m 177 178 THE KUNI PEOPLE ings and people was rather hampered by rain, and by the fact that nearly all the men of the village were away at the feast ; for, though a few of the men and all the women were in the village, I could not get much information from them, especially as under the circumstances it was desirable to avoid the risk of jealous misunderstandings through an appearance of too friendly a familiarity with their women. I also had more difficulty in obtaining photographs than I had ever before experienced, even in the Solomon Islands, so frightened were the people of my camera. The Kuni people, of whom the Ido-Ido folk are typical examples, are strikingly different from the Roro and Mekeo. They may be briefly described as short, averaging about 5 ft. 1 in. in stature, fairly strong and muscular, thou oh much more slight in build than the Roro and Mekeo, rather round-headed, of a sooty brown com- plexion, much darker than that of the Roro and Mekeo, and with black or brown-black frizzy hair. They are, I may say, almost identical in physique with the Mafulu people of the mountains further inland ; and if, as is now thought probable, these Mafulu have a partial Pygmy (Negritto) ancestry, there can be little doubt that the Kuni people have it also. I saw at Ido-Ido and Dilava a fair number of examples of the curious Jewish -looking nose, prominent brow ridge and backward-sloping forehead which, as I have already stated, are a common feature of the true Papuans, as dis- tinguished from the Melanesians ; indeed, this afterwards seemed to me to be more frequent among the Kuni people than among the Mafulu, a circumstance which, along with others, indicates a difference between them, as regards the relative proportions of the three types — Negritto, Papuan A PHYSICAL PECULIARITY 179 and Melanesian — from which they are probably both de- scended. A curious feature of these people and the Mafulu is the way in which the large toe is separated from the others, and projects slightly outwards. I am not aware of this peculiarity having been noticed among the Papuans and Melanesians of the Coast ; nor do I think there is ground for associating it with any Negritto ancestry. It is un- doubtedly extremely useful, as it enables them to cling with their toes to roots of trees and stones in climbing up and down the steep mountain slopes and ridges. If the peculiarity may be regarded as due to environment, one is led to the conclusion that all these mountain people, notwithstanding their undoubtedly mixed ancestry, must have lived in the mountains, detached from their neigh- bours of the plains, for a very long time past. The dress of both men and women consists of a perineal band of native bark cloth, often of almost nominal width, tied round the waist and passed between the legs. In this respect the women differ from those of the Roro and Mekeo villages, who all wear grass petticoats, though the Mekeo petticoats are very short. This reduction of the women's dress is one of the characteristic changes which you meet with in this part of New Guinea upon leaving the Coast and plain districts, and getting among the Kuni of the foot- hills and the Mafulu of the mountains. The Lapeka women (though strictly Kuni) wear short petticoats, but no doubt they have learnt this practice from the neighbouring Mekeo. The women, and occasionally the men, have a custom of tying up their hair into a series of small plaits, along and at the ends of which they attach beads, shells, dogs' 180 DECORATIONS teeth, areca nuts, pieces of cane and other decorations ; but otherwise the hair is generally allowed to grow in a more or less unkempt tangle, very different from the carefully combed mops which you see in Mekeo. Their other decorations are somewhat similar to those of the Mekeo people, though not worn nearly so extensively. This similarity does not necessarily arise from imitation, though for some time past the Kuni, as the people of the foothills nearest to the plains, and the Mekeo, as the folk of the plains nearest to the foothills, have been, as it were, the connecting links between coast and mountains ; and ^he exchanges of shell ornaments of the Coast for the feath rs of mountain birds (birds of paradise, bower birds, etc.), stone weapons, etc., made in the mountains, have necessarily brought the peoples a good deal into contact with each other. Tattooing is not a Kuni custom, and indeed tattoo marks would show but faintly on their dark skins. Cannibals there certainly are, and probably always have been ; though the people themselves insist that their cannibalism is neither indigenous nor ancient, having been learnt comparatively recently from the terrible Boboi people to the north or north-west of them, already referred to. Their cannibalism, however, is based on ideas different from those of the Rubiana people. I do not think the Kuni people were ever head-hunters in the Rubiana sense ; nor does there appear to be any evidence of their killing and eating human beings for the purpose of ceremonial observances. The victim always is, or should be, an enemy killed in war or in private vendetta. The great gastronomic superiority of human flesh over that of pigs is, however, frankly admitted ; and I fancy CANNIBALS 181 that many an inter- village fight must have been engaged in, not perhaps merely for the purpose of providing a state repast, but with a lively anticipation that this would follow a successful conflict. And cases have occurred in which Kuni people have eaten the body of one whose death has not been caused in hostile conflict, though such an act is strongly disapproved. Another curious rule prevails. The actual slayer of a man must not share in the feast upon his body ; but this rule also cannot be said to be always obeyed. There is a known case of a man who, having killed his wife, could not resist the temptation of what is recognized as the most dainty of all dishes — a young woman's breasts. In this case the man had broken both rules, and according to native superstition had laid himself open to the deadly illness which would presumably be the punishment for his offence. These people hold the belief, found among many tribes of cannibals, that the eating of the flesh of a slain warrior induces strength and courage ; and for this purpose large shares used to be given at cannibal feasts to young boys who had just arrived at puberty. They, also recognize, as do many others, that the cannibal feast is a contamination ; and it was always followed by a period of partial fasting, at the end of which the people bathed in running water, and so were purified. The Kuni people are now so much under the control of Government that open cannibal feasts have probably ceased ; but there is no doubt that the eating of human flesh is still indulged in secretly, both by them and the Mafulu ; and their neighbours, the Boboi, have abated none of their old practices in this respect. The social systems of the Kuni are most primitive and 182 PRIMITIVE SOCIAL SYSTEM simple ; indeed, in all matters their customs and habits are, like those of the Mafulu, well in keeping with the idea, based mainly on physical characteristics, of a partial Pygmy or Negritto origin, to which I have already referred. In fact, they and the Mafulu are, at all events in general appearance and conditions of life, just as primitive as are the people of the Rubiana Lagoon, and indeed more so, because they lack the latter's decorative art. Their villages are usually extremely small, having, like Ido-Ido, only half a dozen houses, or less, and a club-house, though some of them are rather larger ; they are nearly always perched on the tops of the razor-like edges, some- times only ten or twelve feet wide, which, with the inter- vening narrow deep-cut valleys, all densely clothed with bush, form the almost universal scenery of the Kuni district. The houses also are very small and rudely constructed, a remarkable change from the large houses, with their projecting platforms, of the Mekeo villages, and differing even from the Lapeka houses, which are rather more like the poorer and ruder ones of Mekeo. They are built on both sides of the ridge, and face inwards into the narrow village enclosure, formed along the top of it, between them. Instead of being, like the Mekeo houses, built on piles, they rest on the ground, though the backs of the houses generally require pile supports, as they project over the downward slope of the ridge. They usually appear to be somewhat oval in shape ; for, though the actual floor may be oblong, the thatched roof, which falls down from the central ridge pole to the ground on both sides, drops at the front and back ends in a curve. The entrance is merely a low opening at the front end, A Mekeo Village The bouses in these villages are built on the two sides of an irregular oblong open space between them ; they are raised up on piles, and are constructed of timber and thatched with long leaves ; each house has a projecting platform, upDn which the people sit. y The Village of Deva-Deva This is a Kuni village close to the Mafulu boundary ; and the inhabitants are barely distinguishable from the Mafulu. THE CLUB-HOUSE 183 and the people have to stoop very low to pass through it ; but the roof thatching over this opening is often left somewhat unfinished, and so gives a larger irregularly shaped entrance. Inside this entrance is a low barrier, over which they have to clamber into the true interior of the house. The club-house is at the end of the village, facing down the open enclosure between the houses. It is small, rude and insignificant, as compared with a Mekeo club-house, and is entirely devoid of any sort of decoration. During the night the people sleep in the inner parts of the houses, except such of the men as sleep in the club- house ; but, so far as I could judge, the men usually have their meals in the club-house, and the women in the houses. The village of Ido-Ido is most beautifully situated, being perched up on a little isolated ridge in the valley of the Angabunga River, flowing close to it to the north ; and the view from the village is very lovely — seeming especially so to one who has been tramping for days through ever- lasting bush, from which nothing is to be seen. In all directions we saw line after line of forest-clad ridges, with their intersecting deep -cut valleys ; whilst away to the north was a magnificent mountain panorama, in which Mount Davidson was still the most conspicuous object. On one day we took a walk down to the river, and in- spected the suspension bridge across it. The river was here 150 feet or more across, and the bridge, which was made of canes and rattan, was a remarkable piece of native work. It had rattan hand-rails on each side, and appeared to be perfectly easy and safe to cross ; but the approach to its nearer end involved a rather precipitous scramble 184 A CURIOUS CUSTOM down a steep rocky bank, which my lameness made it im- prudent for me to attempt. I secured a photograph of it, though, as I had to direct the camera downwards from the rock above, it was only a partial success. The roofs of the club-house and some of the other houses at Ido-Ido were covered with darts sticking into them ; these were made out of twigs of trees, and were about five or six feet long, and each of them had a bunch of grass tied in a whorl at or near its head, whilst some had a similar bunch tied at or near the middle. I found that these were connected with a Kuni custom, which had not before been described. When a woman has her first baby, the other women of her village, and often of some neighbouring village also, assemble and attack her house and the club- house with these darts, throwing them at the roofs, where they are afterwards left. We were to have started on our journey for Dilava the third day after our arrival at Ido-Ido, having been assured that the big feast would be over, and a sufficient number of carriers from that place and other neighbouring villages would be available. Those from the latter villages were to have come in on the previous evening, but none appeared, either then or on the morning fixed for the start ; so we were again disappointed, but were most solemnly assured that we should certainly be able to start first thing on the next (fourth) day, only to be again disappointed, as not a man turned up. Late in the afternoon of that day one of the men of the village came in from the feast ; he was attired in full dancing decorations, and brought with him the uncooked leg of a pig. He said the feast had been a very big one, that large quantities of pig had been distri- buted among the guests from the various villages, that the WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY 185 men from our village were on their way home, heavily laden with pig, and would only arrive late that evening ; and he made it quite clear that a start on the next (fifth) day would be impossible. I may here explain that, when a feast and dance are given by a Kuni or Mafulu village, the guests from other villages only consume there the sweet potatoes, yam, taro, banana, etc., provided by their hosts ; and that the pigs' flesh, the distribution of which is reserved to the last, is carried away by them to be cooked and consumed in their own villages. The news brought by this man was soon confirmed by the other returning roysterers, who sent " wireless tele- graphic messages " from a distant ridge, announcing their approach with a large supply of pig ; and immediate preparations were made for the cooking of it, the women of the village collecting fuel, stones and large leaves. These wireless telegraphic messages, as I call them, are peculiar to the mountain tribes, not being found in the plains. Messages are shouted across valleys from village to village in a way which to the unaccustomed traveller is amazing. It never seemed to me that any attempt was made to articulate the words or syllables of the message clearly, or to repeat them slowly, so as to make them audible from far away, but the last syllable of each sen- tence was always prolonged into a sort of continuous wail. The replies were to me almost inaudible, mere faint echoes of distant voices, and how the people could hear and understand them was a mystery ; yet they rarely seemed to have any difficulty in doing so. The general body of men returning from the feast arrived at the village in the middle of the evening, bring- ing with them, strung on a pole, the head and outside 186 PREPARING FOR A FEAST fatty layer of the back of a pig ; and preparations for cook- ing were at once commenced. The women built the fire. They commenced by erecting a pile of dried tree branches, laid in parallel pairs, each of which crossed the one beneath it at right angles ; after building in this way to a height of about four branches, they lit, inside the erection, a small starting fire, above which they placed more layers of branches, close to- gether, and with many branches in each layer, until there was material for a big blaze. The uppermost layer, which formed a sort of platform, was then covered with stones, averaging in size that of a very large orange or rather more, and upon these again they piled more wood, until there was a huge blazing pile of timber, with the laver of stones in its red-hot centre. The men in the meantime began preparing the pig ; they covered a space of ground with banana leaves, and upon this laid out the portion of pig, which, with its outside hairy part downwards, looked rather like a big opened bloater lying on a dish. They then began cleaning the upper surface by scraping and wiping it from one end to the other with their hands, a most disgusting process, in which I doubted whether the dirt removed was much worse than that imparted by their filthy hands. During all this process, however, they were continually washing the flesh with water, poured on to it from a bamboo water- holder. Next they spent some time cutting horizontal slices from the upper surface. Why this was done I could not make out. Father Egidi suggested that it might be intended to make the layer of flesh even in thickness, with a view to subsequent equitable division ; but this explanation, UNAPPETIZING FOOD 187 though possible, did not strike me as conclusive. Another possible idea was that the parts removed were for some reason regarded as not good for men to eat, but in the dim light of the fire I could see nothing to justify this assumption. One thing was clear, and that was that the parts thus removed were carefully kept, probably for food of either man or animal. They then with much care and mutual consultation divided the carcase into narrow strips, cut in a direction transverse to its length. These varied in both length and width ; but I could not satisfy myself that there was any method of equalizing by making shorter lengths wider than longer ones, though it may have been so. One portion was politely offered to us, and with equal politeness the gift was accepted. We were bound to do this, though for a moment I was rather concerned as to what our acceptance might involve. For us to eat pig's flesh in that climate would have been distinctly dangerous ; and to eat flesh which had been cleaned as this had been would have been a most nauseating performance. How- ever, we handed our gift to the carrier boys who were with us, and had no reason to think that our conduct was regarded as a breach of courtesy. By the time the cutting up of the pig was completed, the fire had almost burnt itself out into a great heap of red embers, in the middle of which were the stones, almost red-hot. The women then, by means of pairs of long sticks, which they used very cleverly as fire-tongs (very much as the Japanese use chop-sticks), picked off some of the charred, but still burning, wood above the stones, thus partially exposing the stones themselves ; after which they raked up the whole mass with poles, scattering 188 STONE COOKERY the stones, until they were spread over a surface much wider than that into which they had previously been built. They then covered the innermost of the stones with broad plantain leaves, upon which they put a layer of smaller leaves, which they sprinkled over with sago. I learnt that these smaller leaves were intended to catch the juices which escaped, and, when thus made tasty and luscious, would be eaten. On these smaller leaves they placed the greater number of the pig slices, spread out in two layers, one above the other, with the hairy sides upwards. Then was added another layer of plantain leaves, upon which was placed another layer of hot stones (the outer ones, which had not yet been used), and upon these were spread the rest of the pig slices, the use of small leaves and sago being dispensed with for this upper layer. Then the meal was left to cook, a process which I under- stood would take about an hour and a half, after which the orgy of feasting would begin, the feasters being the mem- bers of the village and a few invited friends. We were told that the chief of the village, to whom the pig had been presented on behalf of his people, would not himself share in the feast. Why this was so we could not learn ; but the prohibition may be based upon an idea similar to that under which in a cannibal feast the actual killer of a victim must not share in the eating of him. It was late, and we were very tired ; so we turned into our tent without wait- ing to watch the somewhat repulsive scene of the banquet. The following (fifth) day had already been abandoned as a possible date for our start, and indeed the people of our village, after their all-night feast, were obviously not in a condition to go, and we were told that those of a neighbouring village, which had promised to send carriers, A THREATENING MESSAGE 189 were only having their feast that morning ; so we concen- trated our efforts that day on securing an early start on the following (sixth) day, which we were assured we should be able to accomplish. In the morning of that same fifth day, however, a rumour reached us that the men from one of the villages were not intending to come ; so I sent Sam and one of my Port Moresby boys to make enquiry. They saw the chief of the village, and returned with a message from him that he had promised to send the carriers, and that they would come. But this cheering message was followed by another, shouted across the valley, that they would not come ; they were tired after the feast, and must have three days' rest before they did any carrying for me. I had already been so often disappointed by broken promises, and had wasted so much time in waiting, that I decided now to take stronger measures. So we sent for a Madu chief, who happened to be in our village, and explained the situation to him, I meanwhile taking my pistol from its holster, and handling it and looking to its loading, and sent him as a special envoy to the chief of the delinquent village with a message that, if he broke his word again, and did not send the carriers, as promised, next morning, we should come to his village and shoot down all their pigs. This was of course pure bluff, as it would have been out of the question for us to carry out the threat ; indeed there was something distinctly humorous in the idea of a party of three, armed with two shot-guns and a repeating pistol, embarking on a punitive expedition against a village of cannibals. Such a visit might have ended disastrously to ourselves, or, as is perhaps more probable, the firing of 190 BLUFF two guns and a pistol would have caused a general stam- pede of the villagers into the bush ; and in either case it would not have given us our supply of carriers. Moreover such a proceeding, if it had become known to the authori- ties at Port Moresby, would have got me into trouble. The next morning we were up betimes. The Mekeo carriers were of course ready, as also were those from our own village and some others ; but many from other villages did not turn up, and in particular there were none from the village to which I had sent my ultimatum. I decided to go on, however, taking my more immediately important impedimenta, leaving the rest behind in charge of one of my Port Moresby men, and sending a message to the defaulting village that, unless the remainder followed quickly, I should carry out my previous threat. I may here say that, whether as the result of my threats or not I cannot say, the other promised carriers came in not long after our departure, and the luggage which I had left behind followed closely on our heels. CHAPTER XIV THE MOUNTAIN DISTRICT — DILAVA — MAFULU The march from Ido-Ido to Dilava presented no special features ; the first half of it was similar to that I had previously experienced, though perhaps a trifle worse ; but the second half was an easy scramble along the path made by the missionaries of the Society of the Sacred Heart from Oroi Creek to Dilava. I had been told at Yule Island of a terrible precipice which would have to be descended in this march, and was surprised that we did not come across it. Later on, when back at Yule Island, I ascertained that the precipice in question was the one which I had descended between Lapeka and Ido-Ido, and it appeared that the Ido-Ido villages had originally been at the top of the big Lapeka ridge, another example of the way in which the Kuni people migrate from place to place. And yet another example of this was to be found at Dilava, some of the villages, close to the mission station there, having been recently removed to some distance away from it, much to the inconvenience of the Fathers. I was welcomed at Dilava with the same unbounded kindness and hospitality with which I had been treated at all the mission stations which I had visited in Mekeo. This is a somewhat important mission centre, being a moun- tain station, far away from all the others, and having been 191 192 DILAVA up to within about five years prior to my visit, when the Mafulu station was opened, the only mission station in the mountains. Here I found three Fathers — F. Rossier, F. Eschleman and F. Bodet — and a lay Brother ; so that, when Father Egidi and I arrived, we formed quite a pleasant little party. All the stations of the Mission of the Sacred Heart are noticeable for their extreme rough simplicity, both as regards the build and equipment of the stations and the very plain and monotonous diet with which the Fathers are contented. Whatever may be the amount of the sup- plies remitted to this New Guinea Mission, I can certainly bear testimony to the fact that none of the money is spent by the members of the Mission upon their own personal comforts and amenities, beyond the actual necessities of life : but I have alreadv referred to this. The Dilava mission house is the view-point from which I saw the most magnificent panorama that I have ever enjoyed in New Guinea. It is built on the top of a ridge about 3500 feet high, and the view all round it, and especi- ally to the north, is one of a huge confusion of mountains and valleys, now lit up by brilliant tropical sunshine, and again half concealed by rolling mists, such as will bear comparison with anything I have ever seen before or since. A few glaciers, and some open, rocky spaces in lieu of the never-ending forest, would have made it rival the finest beauty spots of Switzerland. But even these mountain places, above the zone of the mosquito, are by no means free from malarial fever. When I arrived at Dilava two of the party there w r ere down with it, and during my short stay there another of them fell a victim. MALARIA 193 I had many discussions, both in the Solomons and in New Guinea, on the much-vexed question of how malaria can be contracted. The orthodox view is, I believe, that it can only be conveyed by the infected bite of the female Anopheles mosquito ; but, though I am personally quite unable to express any opinion on the subject, I may say that two medical men, one in the Solomon Islands and one in New Guinea, both of whom have made a special study of malaria, were unwilling to assert that it was impossible to get it in any other way. The Mafulu Fathers stoutly deny the necessity for the mosquito, and their contention is based upon the assertion that there are no mosquitoes anywhere near Mafulu, and that natives there, who have never left the district, including young children, often get malaria. So far as the absence of mosquitoes is concerned, I can certainly say that I never saw, heard or felt one at Mafulu, so this premiss may, I should think, be conceded ; and I rely implicitly upon the Fathers' statement as to the people attacked never having been in a mosquito district. The question therefore seems to resolve itself into one of diagnoses, and to be whether or not it is possible that feverish attacks, which the Fathers have regarded as malaria, have possibly been something else. Another curious question, which I often discussed in New Guinea and, among others, with the Fathers of the Mission, is the relation, if any, between malarial poison and the septic sores with which so many dwellers and travellers there are afflicted. I was worried and lame with these sores during some of my time in the Solomons and the whole of my stay in New Guinea, but I never had a touch of fever there ; though on my way home, after the sores had healed, I had an attack, and it returned at gradually increasing 194 "MALARIAL BOILS" intervals and in steadily diminishing force for a couple of years after I reached England. The opinion was generally expressed that people who had fever escaped the sores, and vice versa ; and the con- clusion arrived at was that the sores were due to malarial poisoning, which manifested itself in this way, instead of in the recognized form of fever. Whether or not there is any possible foundation of truth in the idea is also a question which I am not qualified to discuss ; but after my return home I heard an Anglo-Indian refer to the " malarial boil," which on enquiry I found to be regarded as a form of malaria, a fact which interested me, because my spreading septic sore on my left shin had, whilst I was at Mafulu, developed into a great volcano with a crater half an inch across, which I could only regard as being a boil, and treated as such. A few days after my arrival at Dilava I lost my charm- ing and instructive travelling companion and friend, Father Egidi, who had to return to his own village. He very wisely did not attempt to return by the horrible way we had come, and went straight down by the new mission route to Oroi on the coast, whence he would work up- country through Mekeo. I was again delayed longer than I had intended at Dilava, as Sam, whom I sent down with a posse of carriers to Oroi to bring up the things which I had left there, took an un- expectedly long time to do it ; but this was only another example of the delays and vexations which attend the traveller in New Guinea at every turn and corner, and must be submitted to in a philosophical spirit. Another need for philosophy arose from the discovery that my boxes in Oroi had been the subject of a serious attack by BURYING ALIVE 195 white ants, which had eaten through the woodwork, and done a good deal of mischief to their contents. During my stay in Dilava I was able to see a few of the villages there, the inhabitants of which, like those of Ido- Ido, are pure Kuni. The people were, as I expected, identical in physique and clothing with those of Ido-Ido ; and, subject to a few slight differences, their houses and villages were similarly placed and alike in form and construction. I here saw wooden food dishes, which I had not seen at Ido-Ido, but they were very similar to dishes which I afterwards found in Mafulu. I was told that the Kuni people were just as primitive as regards the ordinary modes and customs of life as they had always been ; and from what I saw of them I can well believe this. Killing and cannibalism have doubtless been discon- tinued in Dilava, with its mission station, to a greater extent than in the more out-of-the-way places, such as Ido-Ido. But I was told by the Fathers there that five years prior to the time of my visit, these things were ram- pant even at Dilava. At that time it was the practice on the death of a chief to bury his wife alive with his body in the grave ; if a woman died in her confinement, the baby was buried alive with its dead mother ; a woman would kill her child for the smallest reason, as, for example, the wish to suckle a pig, which was considered as being more valuable than a child ; and one of the Fathers had actually seen a woman doing this, having killed the child to enable her to nourish the pig. A cheerful and benign-looking old man, who was most warm in his greetings to us on our arrival in one of the villages, and again on our 196 BIRDS OF PARADISE departure, had many times enjoyed the luxury of human flesh, and there were quite young men in some of the villages who had done so. I saw two little children under six years old, the father of one of whom had killed the mother of the other, and joined with other people in feasting on her body, this being again an example of breach of the rule against a man eating his own victim. All these things had within five years of my visit been common open practices ; and the people make no secret of it that, but for the fear of punishment at the hands of the white man, they would continue the practices as of old ; and it is not doubted that they are continuing them fur- tively, when they can do so without being found out. Again, five years before my visit the Dilava folk had been in a state of terror at an expected overwhelming attack and annihilation by the inner mountain people, and indeed the feeling of nervousness as to this had not yet quite died away. It is remarkable, in view of these facts, that I was able to stay at Dilava, and go from there up-country to Mafulu, in comparative safety. At Dilava I saw for the first time some birds of paradise ; but they were only females, and had not the wonderful plumage of the males. These birds and the goura pigeons are now partly protected by the Government. They do not attempt to restrain the killing of them by the natives, as this is regarded as being impracticable, and no doubt is so, and the numbers of them killed for feather decoration must be enormous. White men, however, are not allowed either to shoot them or to procure them or their feathers from the natives ; and this partial restriction no doubt saves a considerable number of the birds. THE COMET 197 I have already mentioned the anxiety felt by the Mekeo people at the appearance of the comet. I learnt at Dilava that it created even greater terror for the Kuni folk, who regarded it as an omen portending the total destruction of their race, and were full of proposals for killing all their pigs in the hope of thereby warding off the disaster. It is difficult, as regards both the Mekeo and the Kuni people, to picture the ideas in their minds, which associated the astronomical phenomenon of a comet with the specific disasters — an attack from the mountains in the case of the Mekeo people, and a general destruction of their race among the Kuni — which they feared. The superstitious ideas of all the New Guinea people, though differing one from another, have a common foundation in a belief in ghosts of the great departed and in spirits which have never lived as men, all of whom, with here and there a few exceptions, are regarded as malevolent to mankind ; also they are all in terror of the powers of sorcery practised by these ghosts and spirits, sometimes without human intervention, some- times through the medium of sorcerers ; and in connection with all these matters the belief in omens, good or bad, is found everywhere, and any extraordinary occurrence of nature is almost always regarded as a portent of great evil, the exact nature of which is usually propounded by a sorcerer. Once, when I was travelling through Mekeo, I had some difficulty with one of my Port Moresby attendants, who absolutely refused to sleep in the village club-house, in- sisting upon having a shelter close to me ; and his reason was his fear, not of the village people generally, but of the village sorcerer, who might bring illness and death upon him. And again, I had the greatest difficulty on leaving 198 FEAR OF SORCERY my other Port Moresby man at Ido-Ido for quite a short time in charge of the luggage, which had to be left behind until more carriers came on ; and here also his fear was of sorcery. Similarly when, as occasionally happened, I wished to send one of my native attendants on an errand, if only a few miles away from me, it was always, I found, necessary to let him have a companion ; and even the two of them travelling together were afraid. A difficulty again arose at Dilava. where, one of my Port Moresby men having gone down with Sam to Oroi, I wanted the other one to sleep in the village by the mission house. This village was close to the house, from which it could be reached in a few minutes, and, as it was at the other side of a little separating depression in the ground, it and the house were in full view of each other. Nothing, however, would induce the man to sleep in the village, and I had to find him quarters in a little shed close to me. A rather touching feature of all these difficulties was the child-like reliance which these natives seemed to place on me as a white man, albeit a stranger to them, to shield them from the malignant powers of sorcery and the mysterious evil agencies of the unknown. — My condition, when at Dilava, was far from satisfactory ; I was still very lame in both legs, and the hardships and discomforts through which I had passed, both in the Solomons and New Guinea, and the miserable diet with which I had had to be content, had apparently been more trying to me than I had realized at the time, and had seriously reduced my strength and powers of endurance. The change of climate in reaching the higher altitudes, though really a change for the better, had its disadvantage, because of the cold at nights. In the plains I had habitually DISCOMFORTS 199 discarded both coat and shirt, and had been amply covered by my open cellular vest, with khaki trousers, socks and boots ; and all through the evenings and nights only the merest excuse for clothing was needed. Perhaps I did not at first sufficiently appreciate the difference of climate in the mountains ; I had once or twice allowed myself to get a little evening chill, to the effects of which had to be added those of the heavy rains, which in the higher districts usually came on in the afternoon, on more than one occasion causing me to arrive at my destination wet through ; and, especially where I had out-marched my tent and baggage, I was sometimes without means of getting warm and comparatively dry before the cool of the evening and night set in. The situation was not altogether en- couraging, particularly as I had not yet even touched the main objective of my expectation — the investigation of the Mafulu people ; and I confess that I was sometimes oppressed by a doubt as to whether the game was really worth the candle, and was only kept up by my over- powering wish to carry out the Mafulu work. After ten days' delay at Dilava, I started off for Deva- Deva, my last resting-place before Mafulu. The usual difficulty as to carriers arose, notwithstanding the influence of the Fathers there, for the native mind knows little of gratitude, and is not much moved in its actions by any sense of kindnesses received in the past. This day's march brought us to the verge of an entirely different sort of scenery, the sharp, steep ridges and narrow, deep-cut intersecting valleys of the Kuni country, with their thick, unbroken covering of almost impenetrable forest, changing to the higher mountain ranges, with lateral ridges between them, and frequent gentle undulating slopes and wider, 200 DEVA-DEVA more open valleys, which are characteristic of the mountain district of Mafulu ; and. interspersed with the forests, were small patches and great stretches of grass-land, sometimes thinly covered or scattered with timber, and sometimes entirely without trees. The march was a comparatively easy one, as we followed the path cut by the missionaries, though it was in places much overgrown. It is astonishing to see how rapidly nature asserts itself, when left alone, in this tropical country. A carefully prepared path will become an impassable tangle in a very few months, and a deserted native garden soon loses all sign of having ever been cleared and cultivated. There was nothing worthy of record in this day's journey, unless it be that the rain began earlier in the afternoon, and was even more torrential than it had ever been before ; so that we all reached Deva-Deva in the condition of shivering drowned rats, a condition which, so far as I was concerned, was speedily cured by the pitching of my tent in the village enclosure and a complete change of clothes. Deva-Deva, though on the borderland of the more open Mafulu country, is, like the other Kuni villages, built on a narrow ridge ; but it was the largest Kuni village I had seen, having twelve houses on each side of the village en- closure, besides the club-house at the end. The people and their dress were again true Kuni, such as I had seen before ; but there was a difference in their houses. In some of these the ridge-pole of the roof was so short as to give the house a square or beehive appearance ; many had their floors raised by piles a foot or two above the ground, even at the inner end of the building, a thing which I had never seen before in the Kuni district. Where this MISSION STATION AT MAFULU 201 local variation comes from I cannot say, but it may be due to Mafulu influence. One interesting feature of this village was the large number of magnificent tree ferns, which formed part of the surrounding bush ; I had first seen these ferns in the neighbourhood of Ido-Ido, and had often met with them, sometimes in considerable numbers, in my subsequent marches ; but at Deva-Deva they were collected in great masses, and were a beautiful sight. The next day's march was similar to the previous one, except that the country became yet more open ; and finally, late in the afternoon, I reached the mission station at Mafulu, the aim and end of my voyage from England to the South Pacific — the Mecca of my pilgrimage. This station is the most recent of the establishments of the Mission of the Sacred Heart, having, as I have already said, been opened only five years before the time of my visit. It is a tiny place, perched on a rising knoll of ground, between two little groups of Mafulu villages. It is, I believe, the most inland missionary station in the whole of Melanesia. The story of its foundation is an interesting one. Ten years before my visit the Bishop (Monseigneur de Boismenu) and two other members of the Mission started from Dilava, which was then their newest station, and in fact had only just been opened, on an exploring expedition into the mountains, and reached the Mafulu district. Here they were attacked by the natives, and, as they afterwards learnt, their lives hung on a very slender thread indeed ; for the almost unanimous decision of the Mafulu chiefs was that they should be killed and eaten. But fortunately one chief, moved, no doubt, by considerations 202 A PUNITIVE EXPEDITION of prudence, and not by motives of humanity (a virtue with which these people are not encumbered), urged their release,, and succeeded in persuading the others to agree to it. So the unfortunate missionaries were allowed to get away, though all their clothing, food and possessions were confiscated by their captors, and they had to make their way, as best they could, back to Dilava. There was, of course, no missionary path then, and the privations which these brave men had to undergo must have been very trying. The news of this episode reaching the Government authorities at Port Moresby, a punitive expedition was decided upon. An armed force started from the coast of Hall Sound, worked its way up into the mountains, and attacked the Mafulu people, some of whom, including the brother of their most powerful chief, were killed. The expedition had been successful in inflicting punishment, but the Mafulu were in no way subdued ; indeed their hostility to the white man had only been stimulated and deepened, and the chief vowed that the next white man who ventured to his village should be killed under the tree, in the branches of which the box containing the body of his dead brother had been ceremoniously placed, and should then be eaten. The situation must have been of the nature of a stale- mate ; but some little time afterwards the Bishop per- suaded the authorities to dispatch a second expedition to the Mafulu mountains, and to let him accompany it, the object this time being to try to pacify the people by friendly overtures. The Bishop's courage was further demonstrated by a solitary conversation which he had with the irate chief, sitting under the very tree which was to be MISSIONARIES' DANGERS 203 the scene of vengeance, and it was rewarded by complete success. Peace was established, and it has never since been broken. This tale was vividly in my mind during my stay at Mafulu ; and I could not but marvel at the apparent absolute friendship and mutual confidence which seemed to subsist between the members of the Mission there and the natives, and at the childish delight with which the Bishop himself was received, when he came up from Oroi on a visit to the Mission, a number of the people going to meet him, and escorting him to the station in triumph. There must, of course, be an element of danger always hanging over the heads of the Mafulu missionaries, in spite of this apparent, and indeed real, attitude of friend- ship on the part of the people. Savages are savages all the world over ; their moral senses are not like ours, teach them how we will. They know not gratitude, and they are uncertain and irresponsible as children. No missionaries could have thought themselves more secure than did the devoted little band of five Fathers and five Sisters, who in 1904 were established on the coast of New Britain (in the Bismarck Archipelago) within forty miles of the German seat of government. No quarrel or difficulty that they knew of had arisen between them and the natives, nor was there any ground for anxiety ; but suddenly an attack was made, and within a few minutes everv member of the Mission was killed. And so, I fear, it might be at any time at Mafulu. Let a chief be taken ill, doctored by the good Fathers, and die ; let some Mafulu whom they have, perhaps quite uncon- sciously, annoyed, in pure spite against them, suggest 204 ILLNESS that they have killed this chief by sorcery ; let this idea get hold of the minds of these very superstitious, excitable and easily led Mafulu, and I do not think the lives of the members of the Mission would be worth half an hour's purchase. I spent upwards of two months at Mafulu, and would | have been there much longer had not the condition of mv health prevented it ; and during my stay I received the greatest kindness from the Fathers there — Father Fastre, Father Clauser and Father Dontenville. It was unfortunately a period of continued illness. As the result of my repeated drenchings I arrived at Mafulu with a bad feverish chill, which was followed by a sharp attack of lumbago and violent ear-ache, the latter leaving me for a time quite deaf in one ear and almost so in the other. The sore on my left shin spread in all directions, and culminated in a gigantic boil, which refused to be cured ; and another sore broke out on the thumb of my right hand, starting under the nail, spreading until the thumb was almost doubled in size, and so rendering writing, of which I was doing a large amount, very painful. I was, moreover, in a general condition of increasing physical collapse, so much so that during the second half of my stay I was reduced to skin and bone, got but little sleep, and could not eat much food, which of course only made matters worse. It was a tantalizing position, especially as the Fathers there and the Bishop, when he came up from Oroi, were in their kindness continually pressing me to abandon the work for the accomplishment of which I had come out all the way from England, and to get down to the coast, and away from New Guinea, at the earliest possible moment, ILLNESS 205 enforcing their advice with solemn warnings that, if, in my condition, I had an attack of fever or other serious illness, it was most improbable that I should ever return home at all. I do not doubt that their advice was good, indeed I know it was : but I am glad now that I refused to follow it, and took my risk, at all events until I had collected a fair amount of ethnological material. Then I gave in, and reluctantly departed, bitterly regretting, however, the loss of the third month, which I had intended to devote to the work, and in which I could have filled up many a glaring- gap in my notes, and carried out many a line of investiga- tion much more exactly and minutely. There can, I think, be no doubt that, whatever value there may be in my work at Mafulu, it would have been doubled if I could have had that third month in which to extend and complete it. Happily, when I reached the stage of being unable to travel about among the villages, I had got on so far with my investigations that I had no difficulty in continuing the work sitting on the platform of the mission station, or, when I could manage it. limping about to places close by. So far as the people were concerned I really saw as much of them — men, women and children — during this final part of my stay as I had done in their villages, as they came up in crowds every day ; indeed I was at this time engaged in making extensive purchases of Mafulu decorations, implements, weapons, skulls and other things, and this fact alone was sufficient to secure a large attendance of visitors. I was extremely fortunate in having the invaluable help of Father Clauser, who not only placed at my disposal the whole of the information concerning the Mafulu which 206 INTERESTING WORK had been collected by the missionaries during the previous five years, but knew their language and acted as my intermediary and interpreter in all my enquiries. People who have never occupied themselves with work such as I was engaged in can hardly have any idea of its difflcultv and delights, and still less so of the intense interest of investigating a people of whom practically nothing is known, when you have, as it were, the whole ethnological map to fill in, the scope of your enquiry ranging from the simplest matters, such as dress and implements of daily life, to questions of social organization, clanship, rights of property and inheritance and, most difficult of all, religious beliefs. Let the reader, endowed with an intellectual and analy- tical mind, try to imagine himself confronted by an equally intellectual investigator from the centre of China, who knew little or nothing of Europe or its inhabitants, with their customs and beliefs, but had come on an ethnological mission, and was putting him through a long and carefully prepared cross-examination concerning the people of his own country, their dress, arts, crafts, mode of life, social habits and organizations, ceremonies and religious beliefs. Let him imagine the difficulty he would experience in putting in clear and suitable words, selected from the copious vocabulary of his language, with its infinite minuteness of differences in meaning, definite explanations of the simpler subjects of enquiry. Let him then picture the progress of the investigation to the more subjective and abstract matters, and finally say what his answer would be to a question as to what he meant when he spoke of his " soul," and what were his ideas and beliefs concern- ing it. INTERESTING WORK 207 Let him next try to realize the position under a similar enquiry of a simple, untutored savage, whose ideas as regards abstract matters are of the crudest, who has never before attempted to give carefully considered and accurate answers to such questions as are being put to him, and whose language is quite insufficient in the paucity of its shades of meaning to express in anything like minute exactness the points which his questioner is trying to elucidate. He will then perhaps be able to appreciate the difficulties both of New Guinea cannibals in going through such cross-examination as is needed for ethnological in- vestigation, and of the investigator. Then let him add to all other obstacles the natural feeling of doubt and suspicion which this strange un- wonted catechizing is likely to arouse in the mind of the cannibal, and the positive fear, by which he is tormented, of talking of things supernatural ; and some idea will then be formed of the great difficulty of ethnological enquiry among such people, and of the doubts and misgivings as to possible errors and misunderstandings which must con- tinually oppress the enquirer. The delights of the work are obvious. The gradual collection of facts, like pieces in a Chinese puzzle ; the effort to put them together ; the discovery that they do not fit ; the recapitulation and correction ; the gleam of apparent light ; and finally the belief that a problem has at last been solved. What could be more interesting;' and exciting ! CHAPTER XV THE MAFULU PEOPLE The Mafulu people are in physique practically identical with the Kuni, and there can be no doubt that, whether the Negritto substratum to which I have referred is or is not admitted, the two tribes are very closely related, and must be regarded as being of a type quite different from anything found either on the coast-line or plains of British New Guinea. In culture also, and indeed in everything else, these two people are very similar, with the remarkable exception that, whilst the Kuni people speak a Melanesian language, the language of the Mafulu is Papuan. The ordinary dress of the Mafulu, both men and women, like that of the Kuni, is only a perineal band of bark cloth ; they are in fact practically naked. Their mode of hair- dressing and decorating the plaited strands of hair and their other ornaments are also much the same as those of the Kuni. Thev have several forms of belt, most of these being made of plaited or intertwisted cane ; and some of them, during the period of greatly restricted diet and much betel - chewing, which usually precedes some important feast or ceremony, are worn extremely tight, and are tightened more and more as the people grow thinner, to allay the pangs of hunger. The men often cover their heads with coils of bark cloth, which act as caps. There are also a few garments worn only on special occasions. 208 DECORATIONS 209 After recovery from a serious illness, including child-birth, the patient dons a long cape of rough uncoloured bark cloth, this being bunched up at one end so as to form a sort of hood over the head, and hanging down over the back, leaving the side of the body, hips and legs un- covered. The widow of a chief wears, as an emblem of mourning, a vest of string network, a simply made gar- ment, without sleeves, but with openings for the head and arms. Their decorations include hair ornaments, as worn by the Kuni, and a variety of necklaces and pendants of shells (cut or whole), dogs' teeth, beads and other things ; also arm and wrist bands, leg bands and anklets, made in various ways out of plaited fibre. Among the necklaces must be specially mentioned one of white cowrie shells, with their convex sides ground away, worn by certain relatives of a dead person as a symbol of mourning, and a very undecorative form worn for the same purpose by the nearest relative, male or female, this being simply a band of string or undyed twisted bark cloth, worn round the neck and hanging over the chest. The men often wear combs, made of from four to six thin-pointed wooden stems, bound together with plaited straw-like fibre. Both sexes wear ear-rings made of the tail of the cuscus. They remove the hair from the animal's tail, which they dry, and then fasten the pointed end to the blunt cut-off stump ; it is then bound round with a yellow straw-like material obtained from the fibre of an orchid. The people do not insert discs, etc., into their ears, so they have not the hideous hanging loops of ear so common in the Solomons. Their nose ornaments are merely shell pencils, about six inches long, passing through o 210 STAINING THE FACE the septa of their noses ; these, however, are only worn at dances and on special occasions, though wooden plugs are often inserted to keep the hole in the nose open. The tails of pigs are much worn hanging from the side of the head or from the ears over the shoulders ; they are covered with the natural brown hair of the tail. At dances and ceremonies the people put on as many of these decorations as they can collect. The men also have ribbons of bark cloth, generally stained in alternate bands of colour, hanging from their waists almost to the ground ; and the women have long narrow aprons, coloured in various geometric designs, and worn in front, hanging from their perineal bands or string belts. But the chief dancing decorations of the men are feather orna- ments. Cassowaries, birds of paradise, goura pigeons, parrots, cockatoos and other birds supply a marvellous blaze of colour to these ornaments, which are worn as great feather shawls over the men's backs, and on frame- work erections, sometimes ten feet high, completely covered with feathers, and carried above their heads, being sup- ported on the head with a sort of cane skull-cap and fastened securely upon the shoulders. The Mafulu, like the Kuni, do not tattoo ; but they stain their faces and bodies with vegetable and mineral dyes, the colours most commonly used being red, a greyish yellow and black. The staining of the faces maybe all in one or in different colours ; sometimes one side of the face is stained one colour and the other side another. They also add stripes or spots to the face. This staining is, however, but little indulged in, except on festive occasions. Black is the symbol of mourning. The daily life of the people is much the same as that FOOD AND DRINK 211 of the Mekeo, though necessarily simpler and quieter, their villages being so small and unsophisticated. Their vege- table foods are sweet potato, yam, taro, banana, sugar- cane, a wild bean, several plants of the pumpkin and cucumber type, almonds, the fruit of the pandanus pine and other things. For animal food they have kangaroo, kangaroo rat, wallaby, cassowary, " iguana," and various wild birds, fish, eels, mice, snakes and other things. They also sometimes eat wild and village pigs, but only sparingly, as these are valuable commodities, and the village pigs are only used for guests' consumption at a feast. Their staple drink is water, and they have no intoxicant. They have no cooking utensils, except pieces of bamboo stem, used for boiling. Food is roasted by placing it with- out wrap or covering in the red-hot ashes of a burnt-down fire and by a process of stoi.e cookery somewhat similar to that which I have already described. They cut up their food with knives made of simple strips of the cane of a mountain form of bamboo, the strips being sharpened at one end to a point, much as we make a quill pen. The side edge of the bamboo strip is bevelled inwards towards the concave side of the implement, and is exceedingly sharp, cutting like a knife ; and, when it gets blunt, they can get a new edge by peeling off a length of fibre. Their eating utensils, other than the bamboo knives, are plain wooden dishes and small pieces of wood, or some- times of cassowary or kangaroo bone, which take the place of forks, though they are without prongs. A piece of the leg bone of a pig is also ground down into a sort of scraper, and, though primarily used as such in preparing animal food, is also used as a fork. The Mafulu, like the Mekeo people, make netted carrying % 212 BAGS AND HAMMOCKS bags, of which there are several forms, including large plain bags used by the women for carrying vegetables and fuel, large ornamental ones worn by them at dances, and small ones used by the men for carrying their little requirements of everyday life ; most of these bags, however, are made by a curious process of network which is apparently peculiar to the mountains, and so are dis- tinguished from the slip-knot-made bags of the Mekeo people. The same difference in stitch applies also to their netted hammocks, and these are much more generally used for sleeping in by the Mafulu people than they are in Mekeo. In fact their use in Mekeo is only occasional, whereas in Mafulu it is almost habitual ; and, indeed, the narrow floor accommodation on each side of the long central fire- place of the Mafulu houses and club-houses makes ham- mocks much more desirable. The universal domestic animal is the village pig, who is quite as important as his brother in Ireland, though for a different reason, as there is no rent to be paid. This village pig is identical with the wild one, except that he has been caught and domesticated, or has been born in domestic servitude. Both sorts of pig form a leading feature in all their village ceremonial feasts ; and there a curious dis- tinction is observed, for the village pig is only given to the guests at the feast, to be taken away by them and eaten in their own villages on their return home, and the people of the village giving the feast have to content themselves with wild pig. The Mafulu villages are placed on the spurs and lower ridges of the mountains ; but these are not as a rule so narrow and precipitous as are those of the Kuni district, a U . THE HOUSES 213 so the villages have not to be so narrow in form. They are generally small, some of them only having six or eight houses ; but others attain to fifteen or twenty, and a few of them can boast fifty or more. These villages are usually collected together in little clusters or communities, the number in a community varying from two or three to seven or eight. The houses of a village are ranged in two parallel facing rows, with an open space between them. They are con- structed with rude tree branches, are oblong in shape and usually about eight to twelve feet long and eight to ten feet wide ; they have gabled roofs, the gable ends generally facing inwards towards the village enclosure, thus differing somewhat from the Kuni houses, which, though actually somewhat oblong, usually have a general appearance of being oval, or even beehive, in shape. The Mafulu houses are also built entirely on piles, whereas in the Kuni district these are only used to support the back of the house, as it overhangs the downward slope of the ridge. In front of each house, that is, of its front gable end, is a narrow plat- form about a foot or two from the ground, and this is screened from the sun by a curious overhanging pent roof, shaped like a fan or the roof of an apse. Behind this platform is the timber-work forming the front wall of the house, and in this, about a foot above the level of the platform, is a tiny entrance opening, by which you can climb and wriggle yourself into the interior. The roof is thatched with long leaves. On entering the house you find the centre of the floor space occupied by a longi- tudinal fireplace, about two feet wide, extending the whole length of the house from front to back, and the floor is on each side of this long central fireplace, and slopes 214 THE CLAN SYSTEM slightly upwards from the level of the fireplace towards the side walls. The club-houses, of which each village always has one, and generally two or more, are in construction very similar to the ordinary houses, except that they are larger. The inhabitants of each community of villages act to- gether as a composite whole in many matters, notably in holding ceremonial feasts and dances, and often in organ- izing big hunting and fishing expeditions ; but there is an internal differentiation between them. The Mafulu have a clan system ; and there are generally two, sometimes three or more, clans within the community. Each clan, however, has its own village or villages within the com- munity group, and two clans never live in the same village. There is, as might be expected, a special relationship between the members of any one clan. They have their own hereditary chief and sub-chiefs ; they co-operate together for their mutual protection, and an injury done by an outsider to one member of a clan (e.g. his murder, or the refusal of his wife's relations, on her eloping with a stranger, to recoup to him the price which he paid for her on marriage) is taken up by the entire clan, who join the injured individual in full force to inflict retribution. This internal division into clans is also specially marked by a rule of exogamy, which prohibits a man from marrying a woman of his own clan, whether she be of his or some other village of the clan, though he is free to marry a woman from a village of another clan within the community. I have said that each clan has its chief ; he lives in the village, or, if there are more than one, in one of the villages of the clan, and in the latter case there is a sub-chief in each of the other villages. CHIEFS 215 In the village in which the chief lives is his club-house, always built at one end of, and facing down, the village enclosure. This is in fact the club-house of the clan, and, though only used in everyday life by the people of the village, it is the club-house which is associated with all ceremonial observances affecting the clan as a whole. Each sub-chief also has his club-house, similarly placed, in the village under his jurisdiction, and that is the club- house of the village. Each chief and sub-chief is respon- sible for the upkeep and repair of his own club-house. Certain important personages have the right to have club- houses also, but these are their own, and are not clan or village possessions ; there are rarely more than one or two of these in a village, and, though one of them is generally erected at the other end of the village enclosure, a second, if there be one, is placed among the houses at its side. The Mafulu have their rules of social life and etiquette. When a boy reaches the age of ten or twelve, he must leave the parental roof, and live in the village club-house, but he is not, like the Mekeo youth, forbidden to cross the village enclosure. A young man who has reached the marriageable age, but is still a bachelor, must not eat in the presence of women ; he can take his meals in the bush or inside the club-house, but not on its platform, where women might see him. All people, young and old, except very important people, must pass behind the back of a chief — never in front of him ; and when a chief is speaking, all others must be silent. There are various food taboos. Young men are not supposed to eat wild pig until they are married ; but they are much better off than their Mekeo neighbours, as this 216 TABOOS is their sole restriction. All people who intend to take part as dancers or singers at a ceremonial dance and feast, or who are to be the subjects of a ceremonial performance, must abstain for a time from any food other than sweet potato, the period of restriction varying from one day in the case of a personal ceremony to one month in that of a " Big Feast." There do not appear to be any forms of physical saluta- tion, but there are recognized ways in which men address one another on meeting and parting. If A and B meet in the bush, A may say to B, " Where do you come from ? " and B will answer, " I come from ." A may then say, " Where are you going to ? " and B will reply to this. Then B may put similar questions to A, and will be simi- larly answered. These questions are not necessarily asked because the questioner is really anxious for information, but are in the nature of a formality — the equivalent of our " How do you do ? " The system of asking and answering these questions, though well recognized as a social form, is not in practice strictly adhered to. Also A, on coming to a village and finding B there, and wishing to salute him, will call him by name, and B will then call A by name. Then A will say, " You are here," and B will reply, " I am here." This form is more strictly carried out than is the other one. Then when A leaves he will say to B, "I am going," and B will answer, " Go." Then B will call A by his name, and A will call B by name, and the formality is finished. If A, being very friendly with B, comes to his village to see him, on A's departure B, and probably B's family, will accompany A out of the village, and will stand watching his departure until he is about to disappear round the corner of the path ; • -» . • . . . . Dead Pigs at a Mafulu "Bk; Feast" They axe laid out in a row in the centre of the village enclosure. Some of the bones of the dead chiefs, after being worn at the dance, are dipped in the blood of these pigs, and the skulls and other bones are touched with those so dipped. Thus the ghosts are " layed."' CEREMONIES AND FUNCTIONS 217 and then they will call out his name, and he will respond by calling out B's name. Nearly all the principal events of the people's lives are the subjects of ceremonies, most of these including pig- killing, feasting and dancing ; indeed, the only important event on which there is little or no ceremony is that of marriage. There is also a special " Big Feast," held at long intervals, for the purpose, as there can be no doubt, of "laying" the ghosts of their departed great ones. I propose, however, to deal with all these ceremonies in subsequent chapters. The Mafulu chiefs have no administrative functions. Im- portant questions, such as the holding of feasts, migrations of villages and warlike operations, are informally discussed by them with the sub -chiefs and other prominent persons ; but the chiefs, as such, have no power to arrive at authorita- tive decisions ; indeed, their personal active duties appear to be largely ceremonial. Neither have they any judicial powers. Civil disputes as to such things as rights of property, trespass and the like apparently rarely arise ; and punishment for wrongful acts within the community, such as stealing, wounding, killing and adultery, is administered by the injured parties themselves, favoured and supported by public opinion, and often, where the offender belongs to another clan, actively helped by the whole clan of the injured party. The penalty for stealing is the return or replacement of the article stolen ; but stealing within the community, and perhaps even more so within the clan or village, is regarded as such a disgraceful offence — more so, I believe, than either killing or adultery — that its mere discovery involves a distressing punishment to the offender. 218 OFFENCES AND PUNISHMENTS There is a method of discovering the whereabouts of a stolen article, and the identity of the thief, through the medium of a man who is believed to have special powers of ascertaining them. This man takes one of the large broad single-shell arm ornaments, which he places upon its edge on the ground, and one of the pig-bone implements already referred to, which he places standing on its point upon the convex surface of the shell. To make the imple- ment stand in this way he puts on its point, and makes to adhere to the shell, a small piece of wild bees' wax, this being done, I was told, surreptitiously, though I cannot say to what extent the people are deceived by the dodge, or are aware of it. The implement stands on the shell for a few seconds, after which it falls down. Previously to doing this he has told his client of certain possible direc- tions in which the implement may fail, and intimated that, whichever that may be, it will be the direction in which the lost article must be sought. He has also given certain alternative names of possible culprits, one of such names being associated with each of the alternative directions of falling. The fall of the implement thus indicates the quarter in which the lost article may be found and the name of the thief. Father Clauser saw this performance enacted in connection with a pig which had been stolen from a chief ; the falling bone successfully pointed to the direction in which the pig was afterwards found, and there was no doubt that the alleged thief was in fact the true culprit. Presumably the operator makes private enquiries before trying his experiment, and knows how to control the fall of the implement. As regards wounding and killing, the recognized rule is blood for blood, and a life for a life ; and this is so far OFFENCES AND PUNISHMENTS 219 recognized that the avengers of the victim, in carrying out their vengeance, often receive no opposition from the relatives of the wrong-doer, provided, of course, the justice of the case is recognized. Adultery on the part of a wife, but not of a husband, is regarded as a serious offence, if discovered. The injured husband will beat the guilty wife, and is entitled to kill the man with whom she has misconducted herself, which in fact he generally does ; though nowadays fear of Government punishment for murder will sometimes induce him to be content with receiving compensation, say a pig, instead. If, as sometimes happens, the wife actually elopes with her lover, the husband will as a rule not attempt to pursue her. He will, however, claim a return by her people of the price which he paid them for her on his marriage ; and if, as sometimes happens, this is not paid, the whole of his clan will, as already stated, join him in a punitive expedition, and sometimes the entire community will do this. Indeed, this is one of the more frequent causes of inter-community fighting. Any retribution for a serious offence committed by someone outside the clan of the person injured is often directed, not only against the offender himself, but against his whole clan. CHAPTER XVI the mafulu people — continued The property of a Mafulu may be classified as being : (1) his movable belongings, such as clothing, ornaments, imple- ments and pigs ; (2) his house in the village ; (3) his bush land ; (4) his gardens. The movable belongings are, of course, his own absolute property. The village house is also his own ; but this does not in- elude the site of the house, which continues to be the pro- perty of the village. Every grown-up male inhabitant of a village has the right to build for himself one house in that village ; he is not entitled to have more than one there, but he may have a house in each of two or more villages, and a chief or very important man is allowed two or three houses in the same village. On a house being pulled down and not rebuilt, or being abandoned and left to decay, the site reverts to the village, and another person may build a house upon it. Houses are never sold, but th ordinary life of a house is only a few years. The man's bush land is his own property, and his owner- ship includes all trees and growth which may be upon it, and these no other man may cut down ; but it does not include game, this being the common property of the community, and any member of the community is entitled to pass over the land, hunt on it, and fish in streams pass- 220 PROPERTY 221 ing through it, as he pleases. The whole of the bush land of the community belongs in separate portions to different owners, one man sometimes owning two or more of such portions ; and it is most remarkable that, though there are apparently no artificial boundary marks between the various portions, these boundaries are, somehow or other, known and respected, and disputes with reference to them are practically unknown. The man's garden plot or plots are also his own, having been cleared by him or some predecessor of his out of his or that predecessor's own bush land ; and he may build in his gardens as many houses as he pleases. His owner- ship of his garden plot is more exclusive than is that of his bush land, as other people are not entitled to pass over it. But on the other hand, if he abandons the garden, and nature again overruns it with growth — a process which takes place with great rapidity — it ceases to be his garden, and reverts to, and becomes absorbed in, the portion of the bush out of which it had been cleared ; and if, as it may be, he is not the sole owner of that portion of bush, he loses his exclusive right to the land, which as a garden had been his own sole property. No man can sell or exchange either his bush land or his garden plots, and changes in their ownership therefore only arise through death and inheritance. The subject of inheritance to property can only be dealt with here very shortly. The widow of the deceased is allowed to remain in his house for a time, has certain rights regarding the current season's crops, and is allowed a pig, which will be required by her at a later stage for the ceremony of removal of her mourning. Females are en- titled to nothing, though a few personal things are + 222 INFANTICIDE sometimes given them, apparently rather as an act of grace. Subject to these allowances everything goes to the man's nearest male relations. His sons, and male issue of deceased sons, have the first claim, sharing the property between them. In default of lineal male descendants the property passes to the nearest male collateral relatives. Individual killing in personal quarrel, as distinguished from slaying in warfare, is exceedingly rare among the Mafulu, except in cases of revenge upon adulterers. In these cases, however, it is regarded as the appropriate punishment ; and, as in the case of killing in revenge for murder, the family of the adulterer would hardly retaliate, if satisfied of his guilt. Infanticide, however, is extremely common. Setting aside the case of an unmarried girl, who has got into trouble, I would refer to infanticide practised by married women. A common reason for this is the simple one that they do not want to be bothered with more children ; and I do not doubt that the desire to suckle a pig, to which I have already referred in connection with a Dilava (Kuni) woman, is a reason for infanticide among Mafulu women also, as the latter certainly do suckle pigs. There are, however, some other rather curious reasons for infanticide by married women in Mafulu. For example, a woman must not give birth to a child until she has given a pig to a village feast, or, if she does so, it will be a matter of reproach to her. If, therefore, she finds herself about to have a child, and cannot provide the necessary pig, or there is no festal occasion at which she will be able to do so before the child is born, she will either procure abortion, or conceal the birth of the child and kill it. z gjs 5r- y^.^SB<; 2 M °.£ >«§ T3 w ;- en ._£ >. n « 5 — Si ^ Q. _ 3 M - _1 ~- o .'C WARFARE 223 Married women also often kill their children as the result of a superstitious ceremony. The child being born, the mother goes down to the river, takes a little water, and gives it to the babe. If the latter seems by the move- ments of its lips and tongue to accept and take the water into its mouth, it is a sign that it is to live, and it is allowed to do so. If not, it is a sign that it is to die, and she throws it into the river. This custom, which is quite common, has presumably had a superstitious origin, and it seems to be practised with superstitious intent now. There appears, however, to be no doubt that it is also followed for the purpose of keeping or killing the child, according to the wish of the mother. There is further, confirming the last statement, a well-known practice, when the mother o-oes down to the river with her babv, for some other woman, who is childless and desires a child, to accompany the mother, and take from her and adopt the baby ; and as to this, there is no doubt that, before doing so, the woman ascertains from the mother whether or not she intends to keep her child, and only goes with her to the river if she does not intend to keep it. This is done quite openly, with the full knowledge of the second woman's husband and friends ; and everyone knows that the child is not really hers, and how she acquired it. The Mafulu are a cannibal people, and my previous observations as to Kuni cannibalism may be taken as referring to them also, the views of the two tribes being identical as regards this. Warfare between one community or clan and another is forbidden by the British authorities ; but it has not yet been abolished. (See note at the end of this chapter.) The usual ground for an attack is either that some 224 WARFARE member of the attacked community or section of a com- munity has by personal violence or by spirit-supported sorcery killed a member of the attacking community or section, or it is of the matrimonial character (failure to compensate for an eloping wife) already explained. The underlying idea of the war is a life for a life ; and in the matrimonial matter one life is the sum of vengeance required. Hence the primary object of an attack has usually been accomplished when the attacking party has killed one of their opponents. If there are two or more persons whose deaths have to be avenged, a corresponding number of lives is required in the battle. Then the attack- ing party may suffer loss during the fight, in which case this has to be added to the account ; and loss by the attacked is introduced into the other side of it to their credit. The number killed in a battle is not, however, often great. When the required vengeance has been accomplished, the attacking party usually cease fighting and return home, if the enemy allow them to do so. They may retire before their vengeance has been accomplished ; but in that case they are probably doing so as a defeated party, with the intention of renewing the attack on a subsequent occasion. If the attacking party cease fighting, and try to return, the enemy may continue their counter-attack, especially if they have themselves suffered loss in the fighting ; but I was told that the enemy would not as a rule follow the attacking party far into the bush. It may be that what is regarded by the attackers as a correct balance of lives struck, on which they may retire, is not so regarded by the enemy, in which case the latter may try to prolong the fight ; and, if the attackers get away, there will probably be a retaliatory expedition, in which WARFARE 225 the position of attackers and attacked is reversed. The primary idea of a life for a life is, however, generally under- stood and acknowledged ; and if the enemy recognize the truth of the alleged reason for the attack, and have not lost more life than was required to balance the account, they usually rest satisfied with the result. An enemy wounded on the battle-field may be killed at once or taken prisoner. All prisoners, wounded or other- wise, are taken home by the party that secures them, and are then killed, apparently without any prior torture, and generally eaten. A prisoner thus carried off would be regarded as a man killed, which in fact he shortly will be. The women of a community follow their fighting men in the expedition, their duty being to encourage the fighters on the way out, and during the fight, by their singing ; but they remain in the rear during the battle, and do not actually fight. These women, of course, also run the risk of being killed or wounded or taken prisoners. Fighting between two communities may go on inter- mittently for years. Then perhaps the communities may get mutually weary of it, and decide to make peace. This act is ratified by an exchange between the two communities of ceremonial visits, with feasts and pig-killing, but no dancing, the pigs and vegetables and fruit distributed by the hosts among the visitors on the return visit being exactly similar in character and quantity to what the latter have given the former on the prior visit. The fighting weapons of the Mafulu are spears, bows and arrows, clubs, adzes and shields. The spears, made of a very hard wood, are about ten to twelve feet long. The bows, made of split bamboo, are extraordinarily short, generally only about four feet long when straight- 226 HUNTING ened out ; whilst the arrows on the other hand are from six to eight feet long. The clubs are generally between two and three feet long ; their heads are of ^stone, generally cut into a disc or the knobby shape of a pineapple, and, these being usually very heavy, the weapon is a formidable one. The adzes are of a form common in New Guinea, and are generally, but inaccurately, spoken of by writers as " tomahawks " ; they are shaped something like a small pick, a jstoufL blade being lashed into one end of the cross-piece. The shields are thick, heavy, cumbrous weapons, made of hard wood, and generally four and a half to five feet long and fifteen or sixteen inches wide in the broadest central part ; they are held by cane handles firmly fixed with thongs to the weapons. Hunting is a favourite pastime of the Mafulu, though it is only of a mild character, as the fauna of New Guinea is substantially that of Australia, and does not include big game. The animals chiefly hunted are wild pigs, kan- garoos, wallabies, the " Macgregor bear " (an animal which I have not seen, but which I fancy is one of the marsupials — there are no bears in the country), large snakes, casso- waries and other birds. The hunting weapons and contrivances used are spears, bows and arrows, nets and traps ; but adzes and clubs are used in connection with net-hunting. The spears and the bows and arrows employed for hunting animals and cassowaries are the same as those used for war ; but the latter are not much used. For shooting small birds they generally use arrows from five to seven feet long. The adzes and clubs are the same as those used for war. The people usually hunt in large parties for pigs (hunted with either spears or nets), kangaroos and walla- NET-HUNTING 227 bies (hunted with nets only), and Macgregor bears, casso- waries and big snakes (hunted with spears only). The hunters may be members of a single village or of a whole community. They generally return home on the same day, except when hunting the Macgregor bear, which is only found on the tops of high mountains, and so requires a longer expedition. They usually take out with them large numbers of young boys, who are not armed, and do not take part in the actual killing, but who, when the party reaches the hunting-ground, spread out in the bush, and so find the animals. While doing this the boys bark like dogs. Sometimes dogs are taken instead, but this is unusual, as they have not many dogs. A preliminary ceremony is performed by a person whose special duty it is, and who, I think, is usually the pig-killer. He takes a kind of fragrant grass, makes an incantation over it, rubs it on the noses of the dogs, if there are any, and, if they are using nets, ties it in several portions to the meshes of the net. This appears to be the only cere- mony in connection with hunting, but some of the charms worn are intended to give success in hunting. In spear-hunting, when children are employed, they shout as soon as the animal has been found, and then retreat ; and, when the animal has been found by either children or dogs, the hunting men attack it with their spears, if possible surrounding it. In net-hunting, which of course can only be adopted in fairly open spaces, the hunters fix a net in the form of a crescent, fifty or sixty yards long, and supported on poles, across the base of a narrow ravine, or a narrow ridge, these being the routes along which the animals generally travel. The children or dogs search for the animal, as in spear- 228 TRAP-HUNTING hunting ; and, when it is found, most of the hunters place themselves in a crescent-shaped formation behind the animal, so that it is between them and the net, and then gradually close in upon it, and so drive it into the net. Behind the net are other hunters, more or less hidden, who kill the animal with club or adze when it is caught in the net. They sometimes use spears in the event of an animal jumping over the net, and so trying to escape ; though in net-hunting the spears are more especially carried for purposes of self-defence in case of an attack by the animal. There is always an enormous amount of shouting all through the hunt. When the animal has been caught, they generally kill it then and there, except as regards pigs re- quired alive for village ceremony, which are disabled, but not killed. The hunting, except when pigs are specially required, is usually general ; and when any sort of animal has been killed the hunters are content. They surround the beast, and scream loudly three times, by which the people of the village or community know, not only that an animal has been killed, but also what the animal is. It is then brought home, and eaten by the whole village, if the hunt be a village hunt, or by the community, if it be a community hunt. Trap -hunting is much engaged in by single individuals. A common form of trap used for pigs is a round hole about six feet deep and two feet across, dug in the ground any- where in the usual tracks of the pigs, and covered over with rotten wood, upon which grass is spread ; and into this hole the pig falls and cannot get out. Small tree- climbing animals are often caught by a plan based upon the inclination of an animal, seeing a continuous line, to BIRDS 229 go along it. A little pathway of sticks is laid along the ground, commencing near a suitable tree, and carried up to its base, and then taken up the trunk, and along a branch, on which it terminates, the parts upon the tree being bound to it with cane. At the branch termination of this path is either a string noose trap or a very primitive bait- less framework trap, so made that the animal, having once got into it, cannot get out again. Or, instead of a trap, the man will erect upon the same tree a small rough plat- form, where he waits, perhaps all night, until the animal comes, and then shoots it with his bow and arrow. Another form of trap for small animals is a sort of alley along the ground, fenced in on each side by a palisading of sticks, and having at its end a heavy overhanging piece of wood, supported by an easily moved piece of stick, which the animal, after passing along the alley, disturbs, so bringing down the piece of wood on to the top of it ; this trap also has no bait. Large snakes are caught in nooses attached to the ground or hanging from trees. Birds of all kinds, except cassowaries, are killed with bows and arrows. There is also a method of killing certain birds of paradise, which dance on branches of trees, and bower birds, which dance on the ground, by means of nooses as above described, these being tied to the branch of the tree, or, in the case of ground nooses, to a stick or something in the ground. The natives know the spots where the birds are dancing, and place the noose traps there. Another method of killing birds is adopted on narrow forest-covered ridges of the mountains. An open space or passage about two or three yards wide is cut in the bush, across the ridge : and across this passage are sus- pended three parallel nets, the inner or central one being 230 FISHING of a close and impassable mesh, and the two outer ones having a mesh so far open that a bird striking against it can get through. These nets are made of very fine material, and so are not easily seen, especially as they are in partial shade from the trees on each side of the passage. A bird flying from the valley on either side towards the ridge is attracted by this open passage, and flies into and along it ; it strikes against one of the more open outer nets, and gets through it, but is confused and bewildered, and so is easily stopped by the central close-meshed net, where it is shot with bow and arrow. For fishing they construct weirs across the streams, the weirs having open sluices with intercepting nets, and hand- nets being used to catch such fish as escape the big ones. Fishing with them is more or less communistic, as it is generally engaged in by parties of ten or twenty men (women do not fish), and sometimes nearly all the men of a village, or even of a community, join in a fishing expedi- tion ; and everyone in the village or community shares more or less in the spoil. The fishing season is towards the end of the dry season, say in October or November, when work in the gardens is over, and the rivers are low. I cannot give the names of the fishes caught, but was told that the chief ones are large full-bodied carp -like fish and eels. The large weir nets are simply ordinary frameless nets about three to five yards long, and one yard wide, with a fairly small mesh. The hand nets are made in two forms. One of these is made of ordinary fine netting, and is bag- shaped, being strung on a round-looped end of cane, of which the other end is the handle, the net being about the size of* a good-sized butterfly net. The other form is also WEIRS 231 framed on a looped cane ; but the loop in this case is larger and more oval in shape, and the netting is made of the webs of a large spider. To make it they twist the looped end of the cane round and round among the webs, until there is stretched across the loop a double or treble or quadruple layer of web, which, though flat when made, is elastic, and when used becomes under pressure more or less bag-shaped. The fishers first make the weir of upright sticks placed close together among the stones in the river bed, the weir stretching across the greater part of, or sometimes only half-way across, the river. The side of the river left open and undammed is filled up with stones to such a height that the water flowing over it is shallow, and the fish do not escape across it. In the middle of the weir they leave an open space or sluice, behind which they fasten the big net. After forming the weir, but before fixing the net, the fishers all join in a sort of prayer or invocation to the river. For example, on the Aduala river they will say, " Aduala, give us plenty of fish, that we may eat well." Charms also are often relied upon. The big net catches most of the fish which are carried down bv the rush of water through the opening in the weir ; but a group of fishermen stand round it with their hand-nets, with which they catch any fish that leap out of the big net, the ordinary hand- nets being usually used for larger fish, and the cobweb ones for the smaller fish. They often have two or three of these weirs in the same stream, at some little distance from each other. A fishing party will often stay for some days at the place where they are fishing, and eat the fish each day as they catch it ; so that what they bring home for the village 232 WEIRS or community may only be the result of the last day's sport. But the women will sometimes come to the fishers, bring them food, and take some fish back to the village or community. A solitary individual sometimes goes off to catch fish with one of the hand-nets above described or with his hands, and eats or keeps what he catches ; but this is unusual. Note. — As these pages are being passed for press, news has been received of clan fighting in the Mafulu district, in which men are being tortured and killed, of an appeal by the missionaries for help, and of the departure for Mafulu of the Lieutenant-Governor with an armed force ; but I know not what has occurred, or whether disaster may have be- fallen the missionaries ! CHAPTER XVII the mafulu people — continued Agriculture is never communistic ; it is entirely an individual or family matter, men and households and families having their own gardens and plantations. The plants chiefly cultivated are those already mentioned as used for food. They have from time to time, as their gardens become exhausted, to make fresh clearings in the bush, the men cutting down the trees with their adzes, and making fences out of the branches, and the women clearing away the undergrowth. The gardens may be roughly divided into sweet potato gardens and yam gardens. In the former they also grow banana, sugar-cane, bean, pumpkin, cucumber and maize, and in the latter they cultivate taro and beans. In clearing for yam gardens they leave the upright stems of some of the trees and undergrowth for the yams to trail over. There are two curious Mafulu practices in connection with yam-planting. First, before planting each tuber they wrap round it an ornamental leaf, such as a croton, which they call the " sweetheart of the yam." Against this leaf they press a piece of limestone. They then plant the tuber with its sweetheart leaf around it and the piece of lime- stone pressing against its side, and fill in the soil ; but, as they do this, they withdraw the piece of limestone, 233 234 YAMS which they use successively for other yams, and, indeed, keep in their houses for use year by year. In the villages near the Mafulu Mission station the limestone used is generally a piece of stalactite, which they get from the limestone caves in the mountains. The belief is that by planting in this way the yams will grow stronger and better. Secondly, there is a little small-leafed plant of a spreading nature, only a few inches high, which grows wild in the mountains, but which is also cultivated, and a patch of which they always plant in a yam plantation. This plant they also call the " sweetheart of the yam " ; and they believe that its presence is beneficial to the plantation. The yam is apparently regarded by them as a vegetable possessing an importance which one is tempted to think may have a more or less superstitious origin — witness the facts that only men may plant it, that it is the only vege- table in the planting of which superstitious methods are employed, and the special methods and ceremonies adopted in the hanging of the yams at the Big Feast. The Mafulu ideas of artistic design are simple and crude in the extreme. They are utterly unable to produce any representation, realistic or conventional, of any object, living or dead ; indeed they cannot even produce a curve, and their powers are confined to straight lines, out of which they evolve zigzags, triangles and spots. And even these simple artistic achievements are only seen in the scratch- ings on a few of their implements, the plaiting of some of their personal ornaments, the patterns introduced into some of their network bags, and the colouring of some of their bark cloth garments and decorations. I only once baw the faintest attempt at decoration in any of their LACK OF ARTISTIC IDEAS 235 club-houses, and this, I learnt, had been done quite recently by a visitor from Mekeo. This deficiency was to me a matter of very great sur- prise. It would, of course, be absurd to compare the very primitive Mafulu with the highly organized and more cultured Mekeo people ; but the Melanesians of the Pacific, of whom the Solomon Islanders are a good example, though often as simple as the Mafulu in organization and general mode of life, are all able to produce elaborate and beautiful artistic designs, including excellent representa- tions of both animals and men. Whence then comes this extraordinary incapacity of the Mafulu ? There is only one conceivable explanation which I can offer, and that is the absence of totemism and of the imitative stimulus which it provides. Totemism, I may shortly explain, is a system under which persons of a certain stock or clan associate themselves with some object, generally an animal or plant, which they regard, or in days gone by have regarded, as their ancestor or as specially associated with the beginning of their history, and which they therefore consider in a sense as sacred, and are as a rule unwilling to kill or injure ; they commonly adopt the name of this animal or plant as the name of their clan, and introduce it into their decorative designs, and a represen- tation of it forms their clan badge. As Dr. Haddon has more than once pointed out. the desire to produce repre- — ^ sent at ions of the totem is a powerful stimulus to imitative artistic effort ; whereas in the absence of a totem this stimulus is wanting. I was unable, notwithstanding careful and minute enquiry, to find any totemism among the Mafuiu, or, indeed, the faintest trace of its having ever existed among 236 MUSIC them. If, as I believe, they are descendants of an early Pygmy race, who occupied New Guinea before the advent of the Papuans and Melanesians, then their ancestors were probably a pre-totemistic people ; they had no induce- ment for developing their artistic faculties, and have never done so ; and, as until a short time ago the Mafulu probably had little or no association with the people of the adjoining plains, they have not acquired artistic skill from them. I, of course, put this proposition forward, not as necessarily correct, but merely as the only one of which I can think. On the other hand they are a distinctly musical people, thus conforming to what I believe to be a general rule that music is usually more indigenous in hill country than in the plains. Their musical instruments are drums and jews' harps. The drum is of the well-known New Guinea type ; a long wooden instrument made from a hollowed-out tree trunk, open at one end, and with a tympanic membrane, made out of the skin of a reptile, stretched closely across the other. The jews' harp, which is regarded merely as a toy, is made out of a section of bamboo or some other hollow- stemmed plant ; it is made by cutting the section into three longitudinal strips, of which the centre one is slender and tapers to a point at one end, where it is free, and so forms a vibrating tongue ; the mode of playing it is some- what similar to that used for jews' harps at home. They also play a small flute, made out of bamboo stem, but this is really a Mekeo instrument. I believe the Mafulu people occasionally sing at dances to the beating of the drums ; but this is quite unusual ; and they never sing to the music of the jews' harp or flute. SONGS 237 Both men and women sing, generally several or many together. Their songs are all very simple, and are chiefly sung in unison or octaves. I was told that they sometimes accomplish simple harmonies, the notes of which may simultaneously rise or fall either with the same or different intervals, or may rise and fall in contrary motion ; or the harmony may be produced by one man or part of the group sustaining a note, whilst another changes it ; I myself heard an example of the latter of these, and also heard singing in which, while a group of men were singing the same simple air, some of them were occasionally singing one part of it, whilst the others seemed to be singing another part, thus producing a very simple catch or canon. I am not, however, quite certain as to this. Their songs are both cheerful and plaintive ; but the latter predomi- nate, and are mainly in the minor key. The subjects of their songs are generally sentimental love, and include ditties by young men about their sweethearts. They also have warlike songs ; and, when a special event occurs, songs are often composed with reference to it. For example, not long ago a chief was taken by the authori- ties to Port Moresby, and died there ; and songs about this were sung all through his district. Anyone will com- pose a topical song ; in fact, a man will begin singing one in the club-house, making it up as he goes on, and the others will join. The men have a very pretty custom of singing together very softly when at the end of the day they have retired to their club-house and have lain down to sleep, the singing being very gentle, and producing what I can only describe as a sort of crooning sound, like a lullaby or cradle song. I once heard one of these songs sung by my carriers the last thing at night as they lay 238 SONGS beneath the floor of the building in which I was sleeping ; and the effect was absolutely charming. As an example of Mafulu music I give the following, which, though not, I fear, quite accurate, is, I think, a substantially correct version of the music of a war song sung by the Mambule and Sivu communities in connection with joint hostilities by them against another community, and I have so far as possible added the song itself. "Whistling only. 15 •P-Sf- ^£L5 m M JE3 4=^ W. Singing m ^m 3=f=^ 2 Sttm? k -r 4 == £ « inr *—* \stVerse:E! e! ef Si ■ 2,nd Verse :Ef ef ef Nbul vu Mambule jiqu, e fudem ujeka q= la e?nujeka le lulu, jujn le It will be observed that the first line is whistling only. I was informed that it is a common practice to whistle the air before singing the first verse ; though I did not gather that it was always done. It will also be noticed that simple harmonies occur in the fourth and fifth bars. I cannot say whether the two parts in the music are sustained or taken up by the voices upon any defined scheme, and, if so, what that scheme is. Nor can I say whether the voices which take the lower notes in the music are silent after the word /a, or repeat that word in the sixth bar, with or with- out the upper voices, in order to bring the tune to a full close. I have only given two verses ; and, as regards the song in question, I doubt if there were any more. Unfor- tunately I am unable to translate the words, and can only give the meanings of the following : — DANCING 239 E I el el are merely meaningless exclamatory sounds, such as we have in civilized songs, and Sivu and Mambule are the names of the communities. I cannot give verbal explanations of the other words ; but I may say that a rough translation of the second verse is t; My village, your village is alike (or equal)." The Mafulu people, like other New Guinea natives, are fond of dancing, and indulge in it extensively, especially in connection with feasts and ceremonies. Their dancing is of an exceedingly active and lively character. The movements of the feet are lively and jumping, often half a hop and half a run ; and. whilst dancing, their heads are actively moving backwards and forwards and to both sides. The general progressive move- ment of a dancing party is slow, but not a crawl ; and the progress along the village enclosure is usually accomplished by a series of diagonal advances, by which they zigzag backwards and forwards across the enclosure, and in this way graduallv travel alono- it. Very often the dancers divide themselves into two parties, which in their zigzag progress alternately approach and recede from each other. The dancers are always facing in the direction in which at that moment they are moving. Men and women never dance together, except at the Big Feast. This method of dancing is in striking contrast to the slow movements of that of the Mekeo people. Another difference between Mafulu and Mekeo dancing is that among the Mafulu, though the drum-beating and dancing go on simultaneously, the singing, in which all the dancers and non-dancers of both sexes join, does not usually take place during the actual dancing, but only during periodic formal pauses, in which the drum-beating and 240 COUNTING AND NUMBERS dancing cease ; whereas in Mekeo the drum-beating, dancing, and singing all go on continuously and simul- taneously. A further difference arises as regards the dancing decor- ations. Both Mafulu and Mekeo natives have elaborate high framework head feather decorations, which are worn by some of the dancers ; and they are much ornamented about their bodies. But the Mafulu people generally wear their finest and most beautiful feathers on their backs, whereas among the Mekeo natives the head ornament is the chief feature of the decoration. There are special ornaments worn only at dances, but the people generally wear all the decorative finery they can procure. I have substantial ground for suggesting that, whereas Mekeo dancing is, as I have said, probably based upon an i nutation of the dancing movements of the goura pigeon, the Mafulu dancing movements are an imitation of those of one of the birds of paradise. Many South Pacific people, more advanced in most matters than the Mafulu, can only count up to three ; the Mafulu, however, have numerical phraseology which takes them up to twenty, though they rarely in fact count beyond ten. This phraseology is accomplished by the use of three words, " one," " two " and " another," and references to their hands and feet ; thus, for example : 1 is one 2 ,, two. 3 ,, two and another. 4 ., two and two. 5 ,, one hand. COUNTING AND NUMBERS 241 7 is one hand and two. 8 „ one hand and two and another. 10 „ two hands. 13 „ two hands and two and another. 15 ,, two hands and one foot. 18 „ two hands and one foot and two and another. 20 „ two hands and two feet. There is no numerical phraseology to indicate any number above twenty ; and in the ordinary affairs of life, although numeration can be carried in this cumbrous way up to twenty, they rarely use the numerals beyond ten, and anything over that will be referred to as tale, tale, tale, tale (which may be translated " plenty, plenty, plenty, plenty "). Important counting, such as that of pigs at a feast, is accomplished by the actual use of the hands and feet. The fingers stretched open mean nothing ; closing down the thumb of the right hand indicates one ; closing down also the first ringer of that hand indicates two ; and so on with the other fingers of the right hand, till you reach the closing down of the thumb and all the fingers of the right hand, which indicates five. Then, keeping all the right hand closed, they begin w r ith the left hand also. Closing down only the thumb indicates six ; and so on as before, until the thumbs and all the fingers of both hands are closed, which indicates ten. Then they go to the feet. They keep both hands closed and together, and with the right fist they point to the toes, beginning with the big toe of the right foot, and so along the other toes of that foot, and then go to the big toe of the left foot, and along the other toes of that foot, thus Q 242 COUNTING AND NUMBERS reaching the enumerative total of twenty. They do not, when wishing to indicate a number, simply place their fingers and hands and feet simultaneously in the requisite position to do so. They always go through the whole pro- cess of ringer and toe counting from the beginning. For example, to indicate eight, they turn in the thumb and all the fingers of the right hand, and afterwards the thumb and two fingers of the left hand, separately, one after another, until the right position is reached ; and similarly as regards numbers over ten, they solemnly turn down all the fingers one after another, and then point to the toes one after another, until they get to the position which indicates the desired number. When the fingers and toes of the person counting are exhausted, he has recourse to those of another person if he wishes to count further, although he has then passed the limit of numerical phrase- ology. For the purpose of counting big numbers they are always sitting, and as in counting they exhaust hands and feet, the latter are put together. If, for example, they reach eighty, there are four men sitting, with all their hands and feet crowded together ; and if the number be eighty-three, there is also a fifth man with a thumb and two fingers of his right hand closed up. Sometimes a number above ten, but not over twenty, is indicated with the hands only by counting up to ten in the ordinary way, and then opening all the fingers and counting again, until they reach the requisite amount in excess of ten. I do not think it can be said that these people have in their minds any real abstract idea of number, at all events beyond twenty. Each finger turned down and toe pointed to, in succession, seems to represent to their minds the article (e.g. a pig) which is counted, rather than a step in COUNTING AND NUMBERS 243 a process of mental addition. But this is a matter upon which I can only express myself in a very general way ; and indeed the mental stage at which the mere physical idea of the objects counted has developed into the abstract idea of numbers would in any case be exceedingly difficult to ascertain, or even, perhaps, to define. CHAPTER XVIII THE MAFULU BIG FEAST The fear of ghosts, and especially those of chiefs and great men, permeates the minds of most savage people, and many are the devices for propitiating, " laying," or driving them away. There can be little doubt that some such purpose as this has been the origin of the Big Feast of the Mafulu people, though I could find no evidence that this was still recognized. This feast, which is the greatest and most important of the Mafulu functions, is always organized by an entire community of villages ; it is not a very frequent event, and, indeed, is only held in any one village at intervals of from fifteen to twenty years. Only the members of one other community are invited to it. Extensive preparations are required for the feast ; so much so that, after the decision to have it has been arrived at, a year or two may elapse before it takes place. Large quantities of vegetable food — yam, taro, banana, sugar-cane and other things — are needed ; so bush land has to be cleared and planted. An enormous number of village pigs also are required, and these have to be bred and fattened, and an ample supply of sweet potato must be grown for their consumption. Large preparations of a structural and repairing nature are also required in the village where the feast is to be 244 PREPARATIONS 245 held. The chief's club-house there is repaired, or pulled down and entirely rebuilt ; or, if that is not the chief's own village, and so does not possess a chief's club-house, one is erected in it. The houses are put into repair. The people of the other villages of the same community build houses for themselves in the feast village, so that on the occasion of the feast all the members of the community (the hosts) will be living there. View platforms, from which the dancing can be watched, are built by all the people of the community. The people also erect near to, but outside, the village one or more sheds for the accommodation of the guests, the number of sheds depending upon the requirements of the case. Posts about twenty or twenty-five feet high and twelve inches, or nearly so, in diameter are erected in various places in the village enclosure, and each of these posts is surrounded with three, four, or five upright bam- boo stems, these being bound to the post, so as to make together a composite post of which the big one is the strong supporting centre. The leaf branches of these bamboos, starting out from the nodes of the stems, are cut off three or four inches from their bases, thus leaving small pegs or hooks to which vegetables, etc., can be hung ; and in the case of each post one only of its surrounding bamboos has the top branches and leaves left on. Each household is responsible for the erection of one post. About six months before the anticipated date of the big feast there is a preliminary feast ; after which dancing begins in the village in which the feast is to be held and in the other villages of the same community, and this dancing goes on every day until the evening prior to the day upon which the feast takes place. 246 FORMAL INVITATION About a month before the date of the feast a formal invitation is sent out to the community which is to be invited to it. they having been previously approached informally in the matter. For this purpose a number, perhaps ten, twenty or thirty, of the men of the community giving the feast start off, taking with them several bunches of croton leaves — one bunch for each village of the invited community, and these croton leaves are delivered to the chiefs of the several clans of the invited community, and tied to the front central posts of the club-houses of the villages. The formal invitation having been sent, the people of the community giving the feast begin to bring in the yams from the gardens, which they do day by day, singing as they do so ; and these yams are stored away in the houses as they are brought in. When the yams have all been collected, they are brought out and spread in one or more long lines along the centre of the village open space ; the owner of each post knows which are his own yams, and they will go to his post. The yams having all been laid out on the ground, the chiefs inspect them, and select the best, which are to be given to the chiefs of the com- munity invited to the feast ; to these selected yams they tie croton leaves as distinguishing marks. Then each man stands by his own yams, and has a boy standing by his own post ; each man picks up his best yam, and whilst holding these they all begin to sing. The moment the song is over, each man runs to his post with his selected best yam, and hands it to the boy, who climbs up the post, and hangs up the yam. After this they hang the rest of them, each man running with them to the post, and giving them to the boy, who climbs up and hangs them whilst SKULLS AND BONES 247 the man runs back for others, the performance being all in apparent disorder and there being no singing. Some of the best-shaped yams are hung to little cross-sticks about three or four feet long, which the boys then and there attach to those bamboo stems which have their top branches and leaves left upon them, the sticks being attached just below these branches. These selected yams will include those with the croton leaves, intended for chiefs. Of the rest the better yams are hung up higher on the posts, and the poorer ones lower down. The lowest of them will probably be five or six feet from the ground. After hanging the yams, the next step is to erect in the ground all round the village enclosure and in front of the houses a number of tall young slender straight-stemmed tree poles, with the top branches and leaves only left upon them. These poles are connected with one another by long stems, fixed horizontally to them at a height of seven or eight feet from the ground, the stems thus forming a sort of long line or girdle encircling the village enclosure. The taro is hung up without ceremony on the big posts, among the yams, the banana on the slender upright poles, and the sugar cane on the horizontal stems. They then further decorate the posts with human skulls and bones, hung round in circles below the yams and taro, but not reaching to the ground. These are the skulls and bones of chiefs and members of their families and sub- chiefs and important personages of the community. Finally croton leaves, tied in sheaves, are arranged round the posts below the skulls and bones, so as to decor- ate the posts down to the ground. One other specially important matter must here be mentioned. There will probably be in or by the edge of 248 THE BURIAL PLATFORM the village enclosure a high box-shaped wooden burial platform, supported on poles, and containing the skull and bones of a chief, these platforms and a special sort of tree being, as will be explained later on, the only places where they and their families and important personages are buried. If so, the people add to the bones on this platform such of the other skulls and bones above mentioned as are not required for decorating the posts. If, as is most improbable, there is no such burial platform, then they erect one, and upon it place all the available skulls and bones not required for the posts. These various preparations bring us to the evening before the day of the feast, upon which evening all the women of the community, whose families have supplied pigs for the feast, dance together in full dancing decor- ations in the village enclosure, beginning at about sun- down, and dancing all through the night. There is no ceremony connected with this dancing. The next day is the feast day. The guests are in the special guest houses outside the village, where they are dressing for the dance. They have probably arrived the day before, in which case they may have come into the village to watch the women dancing in the evening ; but they are not yet regarded as having formally arrived. These guests include married and unmarried men, women and children, nobody of the invited community being left behind, except old men and women who cannot walk. The women have brought with them their carrying-bags, in which they carry all their men's and their own goods (e.g. knives, feathers, ornaments, etc.), including not only the things used for the ceremony, but all their other port- able property, which they do not wish to expose to risk THE CEREMONIES 249 of theft by leaving at home ; they have also brought special ornamental bags to be used in the dance as mentioned below. The people of the village in the meantime erect one, two, or three (generally three) trees in a group in the very centre of the village enclosure. And now come the successive ceremonies of the feast, in which both married and unmarried men and women take part ; in partially describing these ceremonies I will call the people of the community giving the feast the " hosts," and the visitors attending it the " guests." The first entry of the guests into the village is made by their women, who come in without their dancing decor- ations, but in other respects fully ornamented, and with their large ornamental carrying-bags on their backs (not the common ones of everyday use), and in these they have put all their own and their husbands' goods. They walk in single file along one side and end of the village enclosure, and finally stand in two facing rows, one on each side of the enclosure ; after which the women hosts, also fully decorated, enter the village and place themselves in a group between the two rows of women guests. Then follows the entry of two women guests, excluded from the general entry above mentioned. They are presumably the wives of chiefs, and are decorated for the feast, but without full dancing ornaments. Each of them, however, holds in her mouth something intended to give her a terrible appearance, probably two pairs of pigs' tusks, one pair curling, crescent-like, upwards, and the other pair similarly curling downwards. Each of them also carries two spears, one in each hand. These two 250 THE PLATFORM CUT DOWN women run on opposite sides round the village en- closure, and when they meet at the far end, opposite the chief's club-house, they brandish their spears in a hostile manner at the building, the spears sometimes even striking it, though they do not leave the women's hands. They then generally go round the enclosure a second time, and again attack the chx -house as before. During this performance the host women are all dancing a sort of non- progressive goose step. Such of the guest men as are not going to join in the real ultimate dance then enter the village, they also being fully ornamented. They carry spears, and perhaps in their other hands their clubs or adzes. They all advance along the enclosure, jumping and dancing and brandishing their spears, but not singing ; and in front of them go all the host women, dancing as before. This double body of people, host women in front, and guest men behind, advance en masse along the village enclosure. When, in doing this, the guest men reach the three last-erected special trees in the middle of the enclosure, they attack the trees with their spears, and with kicks, and thus knock the trees down. I was unable to learn the signifi- cance of this part of the ceremony. Then, after some more formal dancing, which space does not permit me to describe, an important ceremony occurs. The chief of the clan cuts away the supports of the burial platform already mentioned, whereupon the platform falls, and the skulls and bones upon it roll on the ground. These are picked up, and put on one side, but without singing or ceremony. Finally, after a distribution among the chiefs and more important male guests of some of the vegetable food, the THE DANCE 251 real dance begins perhaps at nine or ten in the evening, and lasts the whole night, and perhaps till ten o'clock the following morning. The dancing is performed only by- some of the guest men, none of their women, and none of the hosts, either men or women, joining in it. The dancers are all arrayed in full dancing ornaments, including their heavy head feather erections, and chiefs also wear their distinctive ornaments of cassowary feathers ; and they all carry drums and spears, and sometimes clubs or adzes. After the dance has begun, the chief of the clan in whose village the dance occurs distributes among the more im- portant of these dancers, especially chiefs, the skulls and bones which had been put aside after the cutting down of the burial platform, and probably some or all of the skulls and bones which had been hung upon the big posts ; and the dancers receiving these skulls and bones wear them as additional decoration upon their arms throughout the dance. The dancing party enter the village at the end, walking backwards. Directly after they have entered the village they, still having their backs to it, begin to beat their drums, after doing which for a short time they turn round, and the dancing begins. The dancers beat their drums whilst dancing, but neither they nor the other people sing during the actual dancing. There are, however, intervals in the dancing, and during these intervals the drums are not beaten, but the dancers and other people, hosts, guests, men and women, all sing. At a subsequent stage the skulls and bones with which the dancers have been decorated, including those which had fallen from the burial platform, are all again hung up among the other skulls and bones on the big posts. A final distribution of food among the male dancers 252 PIG-KILLING concludes what I may call the first act of the drama ; and there is then an interval of a week or ten days, during which the village pigs, many of which are wandering about in the bush, are collected. Then comes the pig-killing. The pigs are brought out one by one, and killed by a blow on the head with clubs or adzes or anything else. This is done by a man who holds the recognized office of pig-killer, with the help of a number of others. Each pig is killed on the site of the burial platform which has been cut down. As the pigs are killed, their bodies are carried away and placed on the ground in a row, commencing at the end of the village enclosure, and forming a central line along it ; and it is usual also to place upon the row of dead pigs a continuous line of long thin poles, laid end to end, which are after- wards kept tied to the club-house as a record of the total length of the line of pigs, and thus of the number of pigs killed. This number is generally very large in proportion to the size of the community giving the feast. It may be anything from fifty to over one hundred ; in fact at a recent feast given by a community of seven villages, having between them about a hundred houses, they killed one hundred and thirty-five pigs. Chiefs of the hosts' community then take some of the bones (not skulls) from the big posts, and dip them into the mouths of the pigs, from which the blood is flow- ing. They then with the bones which have been so dipped touch the skulls and all the other bones on the posts, these including the skulls and bones of all the chiefs and members of their families and other prominent people buried in and by the villages of the community since the last previous big feast was held there. After this all the THE PURIFICATION 253 bones are again hung up on the posts, but, when the feast is over, they are removed ; and, the ceremony as regards those bones having been performed, they will never again be the subject of ceremonial observance. Next, the hosts set to work to cut up the pigs. This is not done by a chief or special person, nor is there any ceremony connected with it. The pieces of each pig are placed on banana leaves, by the side of the spot where the body had lain, and all the pieces are then distributed among the male guests. The feast is now over, and all the guests return to their homes, taking away with them everything that has been given to them. The village has, however, to undergo a process which is apparently regarded as one of purification. As soon as pos- sible after the guests have gone, the men of the community go off into the bush and capture wild pigs, for which pur- pose they may have to hunt for three or four days, or even for a week or more. They must have at least one pig, and they generally have two or more, even as many as six. When caught, the pigs are brought alive into the village, and are killed by the pig-killer upon the site of the cut- down burial platform. The pigs are then cut up and eaten by the members of the villages of the community, those of the village itself eating their portions there, and those of the other villages taking their portions away and eating them in their own villages. Except as regards the killing of the pigs on the site of the grave, the whole performance appears to be quite informal. After the eating of the pigs, perhaps on the same day, or if, as is probable, the feast lasts until late in the evening, then on the next day, the women of the village clear away the filthy mess of blood 254 DEVASTATION and garbage by which the village enclosure is filled, and sweep the enclosure from end to end with branches of trees. Then the bulk of the villagers leave the village and go off into the gardens and the bush for a period of about six months. The feast has denuded the village of food, includ- ing even sweet potatoes, to which they have had no time to attend during the period before the feast, and which have been used up in the feeding of the village pigs required for it. New gardens are needed, and therefore new bush has to be cut down, and the land must be cleared and planted with various things, and especially with sweet potato. For this purpose it is usual for them to build temporary houses on the scene of their labours. The old people, however, remain in the village, as also do some of the younger ones, who have to tend the gardens close to it. At the end of the period they all return, and village life goes on as usual. Probably this desertion of the village, although there is a practical reason for it, is based upon superstition, and is regarded by the people as being a formal leaving of the village, pending its complete purification. CHAPTER XIX CEREMONIES AND PRACTICES There is no ceremony on the birth of a child, except in the case of the first-born of a chief. On this occasion the women of a neighbouring community are invited. They come in their full dancing ornaments, armed in both hands with spears and either clubs or adzes, and rush into the village, first to the chief's house and then to his club-house ; and at each of these they make a warlike demonstration, actually hurling their spears at the buildings with such force that the spears sometimes go through the thatch of the roof. Then follows a distribution of vegetables among the visitors, after which one, two, or three village pigs are killed under a chief's burial platform or on the site of a past one, cut up in the ordinary way, as at the big feast, given to the visitors and taken away by them, and the ceremony is over. The similarity between this and the Kuni ceremony, already described, will be noticed. In most parts of Melanesia and New T Guinea young boys, when approaching the age of puberty, have to leave their parents' homes and sleep in the village club-house until they marry, and women and girls are rigorously excluded from these buildings. Among the Mafulu a similar custom prevails as regards boys, and the right to go into the club-house is ceremoni- ously conferred upon them when of tender age (two, three, 255 256 THE PERINEAL BAND or four years), long before the period at which they will be old enough to exercise it much. A curious feature of the Mafulu custom is that a similar ceremony is performed with reference to little girls, who are afterwards allowed to enter the club-house, until the time comes for them to receive their perineal bands, though they must not sleep in the building. The children are heavily adorned with ornaments, con- sisting, as a rule, chiefly of dogs' teeth, which are hung round their necks, or over their foreheads, and they usually have belts of dogs' teeth round their waists. Prior to the ceremony a number of box-like receptacles are erected in the village by the children's relatives, there being one receptacle for each child for whom the ceremony is to be performed. These receptacles are made with upright corner poles eight or ten feet high, boxed in with cross- pieces of wood up to a height of five or six feet. In these receptacles are put yams and taro ; upon their upright poles are hung bananas ; and upon their cross-pieces of wood are hung lengths of sugar-cane ; all this being done by the families of the children. Guests are invited from some other community or communities. There is a dance, in which only people from outside communities take part. A village pig must be provided by the family of each child, and each of these pigs is killed by the pig-killer under a chief's platform grave, or, if no such platform then exists, upon the site of one, and is cut up. Before the cutting-up, however, the child is taken from its parents by the man who is to per- form the ceremony, and placed standing for a few seconds on the body of the slain pig ; after which the man picks it up again, and runs with it to one of the club-houses, A CURIOUS CEREMONY 257 upon the platform of which two rows of men are sitting, and hands it to the man at the end of one of the rows. The child is then rapidly passed from hand to hand along that row, and then along the other row, after which it is returned to its carrier, who runs with it to the other club- house, on which also two rows of men are sitting, and where a similar performance takes place. During all this performance there is much shouting and calling out to the child-carrier to hurry. Finally, when the child is again handed back to its carrier, he returns it to its parents, and the ceremony is finished. Following this performance there is a general dis- tribution of the various vegetables and fruits among the people, including both visitors and members of the village ; but the portions of village pig are only given to the visitors. The vegetables are eaten then and there, and the visitors take away the pig for eating in their own villages. I could find no trace of any initiation ceremony for boys, with its previous seclusion and hardships and terrors ; but there is a ceremony for both boys and girls, when they reach the age at which they begin to wear their perineal bands — that is, for boys, ten or twelve, and seven or eight for girls. The preliminary decoration of the children is similar to that adopted for the club-house admission ceremony ; the erection of receptacles and provision of food and pigs, the invitation of guests and dancing, and the killing of the pigs are the same ; also each child has to stand on the pig which his people provide for him. At this perineal band ceremony, however, each child is decorated with a feather ornament, put over his head, R 258 RIGHT TO DANCE but which, instead of being tied up in the usual way at the back of the head, is left with the ends hanging over his shoulders. When the child is taken down from the pig the ceremony is at an end, but there will be a distribution of food as in the other one. The actual putting on of the perineal band is done afterwards without further cere- mony. If the child is the son or daughter of a chief, then, after the performance of standing on the dead pig and receiving the feather ornament, the child is placed stand- ing on a platform, which may be only five or six feet high, or as much as fifteen feet, though no further ceremony appears to be performed whilst it is on that platform. The next ceremony in the lifetime of a boy or girl is that of conferring the right to dance, and, as regards a boy, to beat a drum. This is similar to the perineal band ceremony, except that the child is dressed in dance ornaments (though not the fullest formal dance orna- ments), until the stage is reached of standing on the pig, when the putting on of the feather ornament is omitted ; and, instead of it, the person who performs the ceremony beats a drum for a short time, and then gives the drum to the child, who also beats it, and returns it to him . A young man, having received this right, usually has to make his own drum. For this purpose he must climb up the tree from the wood of which he is about to make it, and there, until the drum is finished, he must remain sitting among the branches, or, if these are inconvenient for the purpose, he may erect a scaffold around the trunk of the tree, with a platform on the top of it, and work upon that. Whilst working, he must always keep the MAKING THE DRUM 259 upper or tympanic end of his drum facing the wind, the idea of this being that the wind gets into the drum, and makes it musical. His food is brought to him, whilst in his tree, by some woman, probably his mother if he is a bachelor, or his wife if he is married, and he lets down a string by which he hauls it up ; but he is under no special restriction as to the food he may eat. There is a curious dissimilarity between the Mafulu custom as to drum-making and that of Roro and Mekeo. In the latter places there is no climbing up a tree, but the youth has to go away and conceal himself in the bush, and there make the drum ; three or four of them usually going off together for the purpose. Until the hollows of their drums have been charred and scraped into shape, many foods are forbidden to them, and they may only drink the water found in the axils of banana leaves and coco-nut milk, and must avoid contact of any sort with fresh water, as otherwise the embers with which the hollow is charred would refuse to glow ; also their food must be cooked in a particularly small pot, so that they themselves shall not grow too stout to dance well ; and, if any of them were to eat fish, a fish-bone would puncture the tympanum of his drum; but, above all things, they must avoid being seen by a woman, for if this tragedy occurred to one of them, his partly made drum would be useless, and he could only throw it away and begin another one. In describing these personal ceremonies relating to admission to the club-house, donning of the perineal band and conferring the right to dance and beat the drum I have referred to a man who handles the child during the ceremony. This person is not, it would seem, necessarily the chief of the clan or an important individual ; he is 260 PURIFICATION CEREMONY one who has bought from its owner the pig which is used for the ceremony ; but I could not learn what the induce- ment is for him to buy a pig which is to be killed and dis- tributed among a number of other people, and am sure that there must be some idea behind all this which I have been unable to ascertain. All these ceremonies are often tacked on to that of the big feast ; but, if not, they may be performed together, the people concerned in each ceremony being taken more or less in batches ; and indeed this generally is so. But in that case each class of ceremony would be performed separately. One person may have more than one ceremony performed for him on the same occasion ; but, if so, a separate pig must be provided in respect of each of these ceremonies, and there must be a separate receptacle and a separate supply of food in respect of each of them, though it does not follow that the total amount of food to be provided, other than pig, is proportionately in- creased. At a subsequent date there is always a purification ceremony, at which a wild pig or pigs will be killed and eaten by the villagers ; though, if the original ceremony has taken place during a big feast, the purification cere- mony in connection with the latter will be the only one needed. Nose-piercing also is a matter of ceremony. The opera- tion is performed on both men and women at or after the age of fifteen or eighteen, and either before or after mar- riage ; it is done for men by men, and for women by women. There is no special person whose duty it is to do it, but he or she must be one who knows the incantations which are required. There is no restriction as to diet or other- NOSE-PIERCING 261 wise placed upon the operator prior to the operation, but there is a day's food restriction imposed upon the person whose nose is to be pierced. Two instruments are used for the operation, one being a piercing instrument made of pig bone and sharpened, and the other being a small wooden plug, also sharpened. First the operator visibly, but silently, engages in two incantations, during the former of which he holds up the thumb and first finger of his right hand, and during the latter of which he holds up the two instruments. He then with the thumb and first finger of his right hand holds the septum of the nose of the person to be operated upon, whom I will call the i; patient," and with the left hand pierces the septum with the bone instrument. He next inserts the wooden plug into the hole, so as to make it larger, and leaves the plug there. Then he takes a blade of grass, which he also inserts through the hole, by the side of the plug, and, holding the grass by the two ends, he makes it rotate round and round the plug. This is a painful process, which frequently causes tears and cries from the patient. He then probably goes through the same process with various other patients, as it is the custom to operate on several persons at the same time. The patients are then all lodged in houses built for the purpose, one house being for men and one for women. These are not houses which are kept permanently stand- ing, but are specially built on each occasion on which the nose-boring operation is going to be performed. A great swelling of the patients' noses develops, and this spreads more or less over their faces. The patients are confined in the special houses until the holes in their noses are large enough and the wounds are healed. During this 262 NOSE-PIERCING confinement each patient has from time to time to do what is requisite to further enlarge the hole by inserting into it pieces of wood and rolled-up leaves into which pieces of wood are pushed. During all this period he is not allowed to come out of the house, at all events so as to be seen, and his diet is confined to sweet potato, cooked in a certain way. The cooking for all the patients, men and women, is done by the woman nose- piercing operator, assisted by other women. The potatoes are wrapped up in leaves (usually banana), each potato being generally wrapped up separately in one or more leaves ; and, when so wrapped up, they are cooked in red-hot ashes, and then taken to the houses where the patients are. When the hole in any patient's nose has reached the requisite size, and the wound is healed, he inserts a large croton leaf into the hole ; he may then come out and return to his own house, retaining the croton leaf in hi s nose. He must next occupy himself in searching for a black non-poisonous snake about twelve or eighteen inches long, which is commonly found in the grass. Its native name is faV uV obe, which means "germ of the ground." Until he finds this snake he must keep the croton leaf in his nose, and is still under the same restriction as to food, which is cocked in the same way and by the same persons as before. On finding the snake, he secures it alive, removes the croton leaf from the hole in his nose, and inserts into it the tail end of the living snake ; then, holding the head of the snake in one of his hands, and the tail in the other, he draws the snake slowly through the hole, until its head is close to it. He then lets the head drop from his hand, and with a quick movement of SNAKE CEREMONY 263 the other hand draws it through the nose, and throws the snake, still living, away. This completes the nose-piercing ; but there still rests upon the patient the duty of going to the river, and there catching an eel, which he gives to the people who have been feeding him during his illness. The nose -piercing is generally done at one of the big feasts ; and, as these are rare in any one village, many fully grown people are to be found whose noses have not been pierced ; though as to this I may say that nose- piercing is more generally indulged in by chiefs and im- portant people and their families than by the village rank and file. It commonly happens, however, that many people have to be done when the occasion arises. Each person to be operated upon has to provide a domestic pig for the big feast. I have been unable to discover the origin and meaning of the nose-piercing ceremony. The performance with the snake is a curious one ; but this is one of the animals as to which superstitious ideas are found in many parts of Melanesia. The Roro people of the coast have a practice of passing small white snakes through the holes in their noses, and their neigh- bours, the Pokau people (in whom there is a strain of Polynesian blood) insert the tips of the tails of larger black snakes into them ; but in both of these cases, whatever the origin of the customs may be, they are now no part of the original ceremony, being merely regarded as a method of keeping the holes open. A boy is regarded as having reached a marriageable age at about sixteen, seventeen, or eighteen, and the age for a girl is a few years younger. Marriages are usually contracted with women of another community, though sometimes the wife will belong to a 264 BETROTHAL village of another clan in the same community. Very rarely is she of another village of the same clan, and still more rarely is she of the same village, clan exogamy being the rule, and marriages within the clan, and still more within the village, being regarded as irregular and un- desirable, and people who have contracted them being considered as having done wrong. Polygyny is usual, and is largely practised, A man will often have two or three, or sometimes even four, wives and a chief or rich man may have as many as six. In the case of an ordinary person the wives all live with their husband in the same house ; but a chief or rich person may have two or more houses. A man who is already married, and then marries again, goes through a formality if it may be so called, similar to that of a first marriage. Opposition from the first wife sometimes occurs, but this is unusual. Infant betrothals are common ; but they are quite informal, and not the subject of any ceremony. The parents in such cases, whether of the same or different communities, are usually intimate friends, and are thus led to offer their children to each other for intermarriage. There is a known case of a girl of sixteen or seventeen years of age, who was what I can only call betrothed to the unborn son of a chief. A curious element in this case was that at the date, prior to the birth of the proposed husband, of what I call the betrothal, the price for the girl was actually paid — a thing which is never done till the marriage — and that, as I was most solemnly assured, the living girl and the unborn boy were in fact regarded, not merely as betrothed, but as actually married, and that, when the boy died, which he did in infancy, long before marital LOVE CHARMS 265 relationship between them was possible, the girl was regarded as a widow. I could not ascertain what happened as to the price which had been paid for the girl. A young man will speak of his sweetheart, present or prospective, as his ojande, which means his " flower," and this is so even if he does not yet know her ; and, when asked where he is going, he will reply that he is going to seek an ojande. If he is not already betrothed, and is matrimonially inclined, he has various expedients for accomplishing his desires. A youth who wants to marry, and does not know where to seek a wife, will sometimes light a fire in the bush, or better still in an open space (not in the village), when the air is still, and wait until a slight breeze blows the flame or smoke a little in some one direc- tion ; and he will then select a community or village which lies in that direction as the spot in which to seek a wife. A youth will often carry in a small charm bag some pieces of wood and stone, and will rub a piece of tobacco between two of these, and send this tobacco to the girl of his choice through a female relative of hers or some other friend ; and he believes that in some mysterious way this will draw her heart towards him, and make her accept him. The pieces of wood and stone need not be of any particular kind ; but he will have carried them for a con- siderable time, until they have, as he thinks, acquired the specific odour of his body ; and it is then that they have obtained their special power. It is impossible to induce a young man to part with a piece of wood or stone which has been so seasoned by time, and would take long to replace. Sometimes these things are purchased from a magic man, who professes to be able to impart to them a more effective power. 266 MARRIAGE A proposal of marriage is usually made by the youth through some female relative of the girl, or other suitable person, and not directly by him to the girl herself. Another custom may be mentioned here, though it only relates to a man who is already married, but wants another wife or wives. In clearing the bush for yam gardens it is usual, as regards the smaller trees, to cut away the side branches only, leaving the main trunks for posts up which the yams will climb ; but the man in question will in the case of one of these smaller trees leave uncut one, two, or three of the upper branches, the number so left being the number of the wives he desires ; and everyone under- stands its meaning. The marriage ceremony, following a parental betrothal, or with parental acquiescence, is a very informal matter, and in fact both the bargaining for the wife and the ceremony of the marriage are in striking contrast to the elaborate system of bargaining and mock raiding by the girl's family, and the wedding ceremonies, which are adopted in Mekeo. A day is fixed for the marriage, and on that day the youth goes to the house of the girl's parents, after which he and she and her parents go to the house of the youth's parents, and the girl is paid for then and there. After this the young people immediately live together as a married couple in the house of either his or her parents, until he has been able to build a house for himself. Neither are there any special ceremonies in connection with the fixing of the price. This is generally very small. Dogs' teeth, pearl shell necklaces, adzes, etc., are the usual things in which it is paid ; but there is always a pig, which has been killed under, or on the site of, the grave platform above referred to. The price, in fact, depends upon the RUNAWAY MARRIAGES 267 position and wealth of the girl's parents, except that there is always only one pig. The price is paid to the father of the girl, or, if dead, to her eldest brother or other nearest male paternal relative. A runaway marriage is still simpler. The youth has proposed to a girl through a friend, and she has con- sented ; and they simply run off into the bush together, and remain in the bush, or the gardens, or a distant village, until the youth's friends have succeeded in pro- pitiating the girl's father, and the price has been paid ; and then the couple return to the village. When chieftainship devolves on the death of a chief to his successor, there is no ceremony connected with the devolution. When a chief resigns in his lifetime, however, there is a ceremony. There does not appear to be a special dance and feast connected with this, it being always tacked on to some other ceremony or group of ceremonies. This par- ticular ceremony does not, in fact, begin until after the pig-killing. The retiring chief will have provided one or more pigs for the purpose of his ceremony, and these will have been killed with the others. He addresses the people and tells them that he is giving up his office and transferring it to his successor ; but in doing so he says nothing about that successor's title to succeed, that being always known and recognized. He then sits on his pig, and hands to his successor a bamboo knife, such as is used for the cutting up of pigs. The successor, having received the knife, takes the place of the retiring chief on the pig, and tells the people that he accepts the office of chief ; after which he goes round to all the pigs which are there in connection with all the various ceremonies to 268 THE CHIEFS FUNCTION be gone through, one after another, and in each case makes with the knife just given to him a small slit at the end of the mouth of the pig. This act is regarded as a performance by the new chief of a chief's office ; and, as under present customs the killing of the pig is commonly done by the pig-killer, and the cutting of it up is done by anybody, one is tempted to wonder whether the ceremony points to some chief's duty of the past, which has ceased to exist, or to some unknown origin of the status of the pig-killer. It will be noticed that there is, as regards the first official act of the new chief, an element of similarity between the Mafulu ceremony and that of Mekeo, already described. CHAPTER XX DEATH AND FUNERAL CEREMONIES When a man or woman is regarded as dying, he or she is at once attended by a woman whose permanent office it is to do this, and who has other women and girls with her to assist her, these others including, but not necessarily being confined to, the females of the dying man's own family and relatives. The house is full of women only. This special woman with the others attend the dying man, nursing him, washing him from time to time, and keeping the flies away from him ; but they apparently do not attempt any measures for curing him, their offices only beginning when he is regarded as dying. In the meantime they all wail, and there are also a number of other women wailing out- side the house. The special woman watches the dying person ; and when she thinks he is dead, she gives him a heavy blow on the side of the head with her fist, and pronounces him dead, which probably he generally is, at all events after the blow has been struck. Then the men in the village all commence shouting loudly. The reason given for this shouting is that it frightens away the man's ghost ; but, if so, it is apparently only a partial intimidation of the ghost, who, as will be seen hereafter, is subjected to further alarms at a later stage. The men communicate the news in the ordinary 269 270 DEATH way adopted by these people of shouting it across the valleys ; and so it spreads to other villages, and even to other communities. The man being dead, the wailing of the women inside and outside the house is changed into a true funeral song ; but this latter only continues for a few minutes. The special woman and some others, prob- ably relatives only, remain in the house ; but they do not touch the body at this stage. The other women, probably non-relatives, go out. The relatives of the deceased, both men and women, immediately smear their bodies with mud, but no one else in the village does so. This is the situation until the first party of women, generally accompanied by men, begin to come in from other villages of the same, and probably of one or more other, communities. These people, as they approach the village, commence wailing (not the funeral song) and shouting, calling the deceased by a relationship term, such as father, brother, etc., though they may never have heard of him before ; and, doing this, they enter the village, and go to the house. The incoming women all arrive smeared with mud, and crowd into and about the house, still wail- ing as before. They all look at the body ; and each woman, after viewing it, comes out and sits on the platform of the house or on the ground outside. The party of outside village women then cease their first wailing, and commence the funeral song, in which they are joined by the female relatives of the deceased and other women of the village. But again this only lasts for a few minutes, the period being longer or shorter according to the importance of the person who has died. Other similar parties, coming in from other villages, go through the same performance as they come into the THE FUNERAL 271 village ; and in each ease, as the women of each fresh party come out of the house after seeing the corpse, there is a fresh outburst of the funeral song on the part of all the women present, but always only for a few minutes. This goes on till the last batch of visitors has arrived. The total number of women in the village is then generally very large. After the last batch of visitors has come in, and until the funeral ceremony, all the women again break out into the funeral song for a few minutes about once an hour in the daytime, and less often at night. The funeral takes place probably about twenty-four hours after death. The body is now wrapped up by the special woman attendant, helped by the female relatives of the deceased, in leaves, especially banana leaves, and bark of trees, and remains so wrapped up in the house. It is placed with the knees bent up to the chin, and the heels to the buttocks. In the meantime men of the village dig a grave two or three feet deep in the village open enclosure. When all is ready, the funeral song begins again, the singers this time being the female relatives of the deceased and the women who have come from outside villages, but not the other women of the village of the deceased. Men of the village then carry the corpse, wrapped and doubled up, and place it, lying on its back, in the grave, and during the whole of the time, until the body is in the grave, the women continue to sing the funeral song. As soon as the body is in the grave, all the men, both villagers and visitors, shout again as before, and for the same purpose. The grave is then filled up, the women singing as it is being done ; and the funeral is then over. The relatives of the deceased now go into mourning. 272 MOURNING The widow or widower or other nearest relative wears the mourning string necklace already described. He or she, and also the other near relatives, smear their faces, and sometimes their bodies, with black, to which, as regards the face, is added oil or water. Some more distant relatives, instead of blackening themselves, wear the mourning shell necklace. And all this will continue, nominally without break, until the mourning is formally removed, in the way to be explained hereafter. In connection with mourning, I should also mention a curious custom, which I understand is common, though not universal, for a woman who has lost a child, and especi- ally a first-born or very dear child, to amputate the tip of one of her fingers, up to the first joint, with an adze- Having done this once for one child, she will possibly do it again for another child ; and a woman has been seen with three fingers mutilated in this way. Two or three days after the funeral there is a feast, to which members of another community are invited. They all come well ornamented, but, with one exception, they do not wear their dancing decorations. One of them, how- ever, usually a chief or the son of a chief of the community invited, comes in his full dancing ornaments. All the guest men bring with them their spears, and perhaps adzes or clubs. When they arrive the following performances take place, the village enclosure being left by the villagers empty and open : First two guest women enter the village enclosure at one end, and run in silence round it, brandishing spears in both hands, as at the big feast ; but they make no hostile demonstration. When these two women have reached their starting-point, they again run round the village, brandish- THE FUNERAL DANCE 273 ing their spears as before, and all the gue^t men, except the specially dressed one, follow them by advancing silently with a dancing step along the enclosure, also brandishing their spears. Thus the whole group goes to the other end of the village, passing the grave of the deceased as they do so ; then they turn round, and come back again in the same way, but on their return they stop before they reach the grave. Then the specially ornamented guest man enters alone, without his arms, but with his drum, which he beats. He dances up the village enclosure in a zigzag course, going from side to side of the enclosure, and always facing in the direction in which he is at the time moving ; and during his advance he beats his drum, but otherwise he and all the other people are silent. When in this way he has reached the grave, the chief of the clan of the village where the funeral takes place approaches him, and removes his heavy head ornament. Then follows the feast. Sticks are laid upon the ground over the grave, the sticks crossing each other so as to form a rude ground platform, and these are covered with banana leaves. One or more pigs are placed on this plat- form, and are then killed by the pig-killer and cut up, and vegetables and pieces of pig are distributed among the male visitors by the chief of the clan, helped perhaps by the family of the deceased. The killing of the pigs at this ceremony is regarded as the act which will, they think, finally propitiate or drive away the ghost of the departed. As soon as possible after the funeral pig-killing, the people catch some wild pig or pigs, and kill and eat them, and sweep down the village by way of purification cere- s 274 REMOVAL OF MOURNING mony, very much as they do in the case of the big feast, except that it is on a very much smaller scale, and that the people do not afterwards leave the village. The ceremony of removal of the mourning may take place after an interval of only a week or two, or of so much as six months, the date often depending upon the occur- rence of some other ceremony, at which the removal of the mourning can be carried out without necessitating a cere- mony for itself only. Visitors from some other community attend. The ceremony only applies to the nearest relative — the chief mourner, who wears the string necklace ; but, on his or her mourning being ceremoniously removed, the mourning of all others ceases automatically. This nearest relative has to provide a village pig. There is a feast, and dancing and pig-killing and distribution of food and pig, in the usual way. The pig is killed by the pig-killer under the platform of a chief's platform grave, or on the site of it ; after this the mourner's string necklace is cut off, dipped in the blood of the pig, and thrown away, and two lines of coloured paint, generally red, are daubed across each of the mourner's cheeks. There will at a later date be a purification ceremony, at which wild pigs will be killed, such as has already been described. In the case of a dying chief there is a special ceremony for ascertaining whether or not he is in fact going to die — a ceremony which is usually performed at his own request. Some vegetable food, probably sweet potato, or perhaps sugar-cane or taro, is given him to eat, although he may be very [ill, and may not have been taking food ; though of course, if he were insensible or unable to eat, this special A DYING CHIEF 275 ceremony could not be carried out. The inedible portions of this food, e.g. the peel of the potato or the hard fibres of the sugar-cane, are then handed to certain magical persons of the community, whose special duty it is to per- form the ceremony about to be described. Some of these portions of food may even be sent to some similar magic person of high reputation in another community, in order that he also may perform the same ceremony. Each of these magic persons has also handed to him a portion of a perineal band belonging to, and recently worn by, the ailing chief. Each of the magic men then wraps up the portion of food which has been given to him in the piece of band ; and this he again wraps up in leaves, and continues doing so until the parcel has become a round ball four or five inches in diameter. The men then separate, and each of them goes off alone to a spot outside the village, where he collects some very dry firewood, and heaps it up against the trunk of a tree to a height of, say, six feet. He then engages in an incantation, after which he puts the ball inside the bottom of the wood pile, and lights the pile at the bottom. Then he lies down by this fire and closes his eyes. After an interval of perhaps two to five minutes he gets up, as though awakening from a bad dream, and hears the wailing in the adjoining village, and asks him- self what all this wailing is about ; and he then appears to remember for what purpose he is there, goes to the fire, and takes out the ball. If the fire has burnt or scorched the food wrapped up in the ball, it is an indication that the chief is to die. If not, it indicates that he will live. These magic men then return to the village, and report the result. If their report be that the chief is going to live, the people 276 A CHIEFS GRAVE cease their wailing, but if it be that he is to die. the wailing continues. It is believed by the people that, if a hostile community can secure some of the food remnants and band, and hand them to their own magic man, for him to go through the same ceremony, he may maliciously bring about an un- favourable result, and thus ma} r cause the death of the chief. If the belief that such a thing had happened arose, it would be a casus belli with that other community ; and a case is known in which an inter-community fight did occur on this ground. If the report be that the chief is to die, the special woman attendant will give him the blow on the head, as in the case of the ordinary villager. Then follows the shouting, wailing and singing of the funeral song and arrivals of visitors, as already described, though everything is on a much more extensive scale, and all the members of the community smear their bodies. The grave is quite different from that of a commoner. There are two methods of sepulture adopted for chiefs, the grave being in both cases in or by the edge of the open village enclosure. The first of these methods is a burial platform, a very rough erection of upright poles from nine to twelve feet high, the number of which may be four, or less or more than that, at the top of which erection is a rude wooden box-shaped receptacle, about two or three feet square, and from six inches to a foot deep, and uncovered at the top, in which receptacle the corpse is placed. Sometimes the supporting structure, instead of being composed of a number of poles, is only a rough tree trunk, on which the lower ends of the branches are left to support the box. • " A Group of Mafdlu These people are believed to be the descendants of an original pygmy population, whose physique and lture have been modified by subsequent Papuan and Melanesian intercrossing. _ The dress of both men d women is merely a narrow strip of bark cloth, passed between the legs and tied round the waist. At the Spring rhe staple drink of the Mafulu is water ; but they sometimes drink a watery fluid obtained from a sort of bamboo. They have no intoxicants. FUNERAL OF A CHIEF 277 The second method is tree burial. The tree in which this is done is a special form of fig tree called gabi, the burial box, similar to the one above described, being placed in its lowest fork, or, if that be already occupied, then in the next one, and so on. A tree has been seen with six of these boxes in it, one above another. This tree is specially used for such burials. The natives will never cut it down. In selecting a village site they will often specially choose one where one of these trees is growing ; and indeed the presence of^such a tree in the bush raises a probability that there is, or has been, a native village there. At the funeral, all the women present, those of the village and of the whole community and the guests, join in singing the funeral song. When the grave, whether on a platform or on a tree, is reached, all the men present begin to shout loudly, and there is a terrible noise. They all have their spears, but there is no brandishing of them. Then some men (anyone may do this) climb up to the box, and others hand the wrapped body up to them, and they place it lying on its back in the box. This ends the actual burial ceremony. The black mourning face, and sometimes body-staining, is then adopted by all the people of the community. The special string necklace worn by the nearest relative and the other family emblems of mourning are the same as in the case of an ordinary person, except that the chief's widow will probably also wear the special mourning net- work vest already described, and that the mourning shell necklace, which in the case of an ordinary man is only worn by distant relatives, is worn by all the married men and women of the clan who have or can procure it. The subsequent feast and ceremonial dancing perform- 278 DESERTION OF THE VILLAGE ance are on a very large scale. No platform of sticks is placed on the grave for the pig-killing, the grave in this case not being underground ; but the banana leaves are placed around the supports of the burial platform, or around the trunk of the burial tree. The pigs are killed upon these banana leaves by the pig-killer and his helpers, and the killed pigs are then placed in circles around the platform or tree, and are there cut up. And now a true desertion of the village by its inhabitants takes place, as indeed is necessary, for the putrefying body is becoming offensive ; and it will be at least two or three weeks before the air becomes pure again. The villagers all go off into the bush, with the exception of two unhappy men, close relatives of the dead chief, who have to remain in the village. Whilst there alone they are well ornamented, though not in their full dancing decor- ation, but in particular, though not themselves chiefs, they wear on their heads the cassowary feathers which are the distinctive decoration of a chief, and they carry their spears. There they remain amidst the awful stench of the decomposing body and all the mess and smell of the pigs' blood and garbage about the village. It is a curious fact that, in speaking of these two men, the natives do not speak of them as watching over the body of the chief, but as watching over the blood of the killed pigs. When the stench is over, the villagers in the bush are informed, and they return to the village. Then follow the killing and eating of wild pigs and sweeping down of the village, as in the case of the death of an ordinary person, but again on a much larger scale. The removal of the mourning takes place after an interval which may be anything between one and six months ; and CHIEFS' WIVES 279 here again the ceremony and the subsequent purification ceremony are much the same as in the case of an ordinary person, except that they are on a much larger scale. Chiefs' wives and members of their families, and other persons of special importance, have platform or tree graves, like those of chiefs, and the funeral ceremonies on the deaths of these people are very similar to those of chiefs, though they are on a scale which is smaller, in proportion to the relative importance of the person to be buried ; and tney are subject to a few detailed differences. The special magic ceremony for ascertaining if the patient is or is not going to die is not performed in the case of these people. CHAPTER XXI RELIGION AND SORCERY The religious ideas of the Mafulu would seem to be even more elementary than are those of either the Rubiana folk or the people of Mekeo. The former of these recognize and offer sacrifices to the individual ghosts of people who have died ; the latter believe in and try to propitiate certain individual mythical beings ; but the religion of the Mafulu is apparently confined to a belief in, and fear of, ghosts and spirits generally, and I could learn nothing of any cere- monious observances relating to any one supernatural power. They have, it is true, a legend about a mysterious per- sonage named Tsidibe, who once passed through their country, and taught them all their customs, including manufacture and dancing ; but, though they treat his memory with great respect, and draw your attention to strange-shaped rocks, which they associate with him, and would on no account injure, they do not regard him as still continuing to exercise any influence over them and their affairs, have no ceremonies or observances with reference to him, and do not address to him any supplications. They certainly have a lively belief in ghosts of people who have lived and died, and in spirits which have never occupied human form, all of whom (ghosts and spirits) are evil disposed, and in sorcery. 280 GHOSTS 281 Every human being, male and female, has during life a mysterious ghostly self, in addition to his visible bodily and conscious self ; and this ghostly self will on his death survive him as a ghost. There appears to be no idea of this ghostly self leaving the body in times of sleeping or dreaming ; though, if a man dreams of someone who is dead, he thinks that he has been visited by that person's ghost. M death the ghost leaves the body, and becomes, and remains, a malevolent being. Then, or at all events when the funeral pig-killing has been performed, the ghost goes away to the tops of the mountains, where apparently it exists as a ghost for ever. The shouting immediately after the death, and afterwards at the funeral, are steps towards driving it there ; and the pig-killing ceremony completes the process. On reaching the mountains the ghost becomes one of two things. The ghost of a young or grown-up person up to, say, forty or forty-five years of age becomes the shimmering light upon the ground and undergrowth, which occurs here and there where the dense forest of the mountains is pene- trated by the sun's beams. The ghost of an elderly person over forty or forty-five becomes a large sort of fungus, which is indigenous to the mountains, where alone it is found. Anyone who on a hunting expedition or other- wise meets with a glade in which this shimmering light occurs will carefully pass round it, instead of going across it ; and, if he finds one of these fungi, he will neither eat nor touch, nor even tread upon it. The foods of these ghosts in both their forms are the ghostly elements of the usual native vegetable foods (sweet potato, yam, taro, banana, and in fact every vege- 282 SPIRITS table food) and certain other things ; and for the purpose of procuring food, or sometimes on the ground of dissatis- faction with their mountain abode, they pay visits to the village. As the intentions of the ghosts towards living humanity are always evil, their visits are feared by the people ; but I could not ascertain what was the nature of the injuries by the ghosts of which they were afraid, nor could I hear of any actual instance of a disaster or misfortune which had been attributed to the machinations of ghosts. When sleeping in their dark enclosed houses, however, the people fill up all openings by which a ghost might enter ; and, when the mission station at Mafulu was started, the natives were amazed at the missionaries daring to sleep alone in rooms with open doors and windows, through which the ghosts might come in. Spirits which have never been human beings are also malevolent ; though when we come to the operations of magic men or sorcerers, and to incantations and the use of charms, it will be noticed that these are by no means necessarily and invariably engaged or used for malevolent purposes. I was not able to obtain any satisfactory information as to these spirits, or their supposed attributes, nor, except as regards illness and death, as to the nature of, and ground for, the fears which the natives feel concern- ing them ; indeed, this is a subject upon which most natives all over the world are inclined to be reticent, partly or largely from fear. Even as regards the sacred places which these spirits are supposed to haunt, though the natives are not unwilling to pass them, and will men- into the fact that they are sacred, they are unwilling to HAUNTED SPOTS 283 talk about them. My observations as to spirits, other than those in connection with sorcery producing illness and death, must therefore be practically confined to the sacred places haunted by the spirits, and the demeanour and acts of the natives with reference to, and when they pass, these places. Speaking generally, any place which has something specially peculiar or unusual in its appearance is likely to be regarded as the abode of a spirit. A waterfall, a deep still pool in the course of a river, a deep narrow rocky river ravine, or a strangely shaped rock come under this category. There are also certain trees and creepers which are regarded as implying the presence of a spirit in their vicinity, although that vicinity has in itself nothing unusual. At the time when the path near the newly erected mission station at Mafulu was being opened some of the spirit-haunted creepers had to be cleared away, and the mission Fathers had the utmost difficulty with the natives, only two or three of whom could be persuaded to help in the work, whilst the others stood aloof and afraid. In the same way, when the Fathers wanted to cut down some of the haunted trees, only two natives were induced to help in this, and even they only did so on condition that the Fathers themselves made the first strokes ; and the Fathers were warned by the natives that evil would befall them. It was a curious coincidence that the Father who did this tree-cutting, being then and having been for a long time past perfectly well in health, was that evening taken ill with a bad sore, which nearly necessitated his being carried down to the head mission station on the coast. 284 MAGIC MEN AND SORCERERS If a party, in travelling through the country, passes a spirit-haunted spot, the leader turns round, and in a low voice tells the others that they are approaching the spot, whereupon they all become silent, though up to that point they have been chattering ; each of them then takes a wisp of grass and ties it in a knot ; they then walk on in silence for a period, which may be anything from five to fifteen minutes, after which, as they pass the spot, the leader turns round and they all throw their bunches of grass on the ground. In this way they avert the danger and may again chatter as before. Another somewhat similar ceremony commences, like the former one, with silence ; but, instead of throwing grass down as they pass the haunted spot, the visible sign of which in this case is a hole in the ground, the leader stops and looks round at the others, and then he and they press the palms of their hands down into the interior of the hole ; after which all is safe and well, as in the former case. Magic or sorcery, and those who practise it, and incan- tations and charms, and those who supply charms, are naturally associated with either ghosts or spirits, or both. Among the Mafulu people they are, I was assured, asso- ciated solely with spirits, and not with ghosts. A Mafulu magic man or sorcerer would never exercise his powers in a hostile way against anyone of his own village, or indeed of his own clan, or even, as a rule, of his oavii community. Apparently the sorcerer's victim is nearly always a member of some other community ; and the sorcerers of a community do not appear to be in any way either feared or shunned by the members of that community. There are also, as in Mekeo, besides the sorcerers, a MAGIC MEN AND SORCERERS 285 number of specialists, who can hardly perhaps be called true sorcerers, but who have certain specific powers, or are acquainted with certain specific forms of incantation, and whose services are from time to time sought by the people. Dealing first with the true sorcerers, they undoubtedly include among their number the men who perform the special ceremony already described for ascertaining whether a sick chief is or is not destined to die. They also seem to include the makers or providers of the various charms. There are two special matters which are regarded as coming within the province of the true sorcerers, of which one relates to rain and the other to illness and death. I will deal with them separately. The rain sorcerer is the man to whom the people go in anticipation of a proposed important event, such as a big feast, or perhaps a fighting or large hunting expedition, to ascertain whether the period in which it is proposed that the event shall occur will be fine or wet ; but he does not profess to be able to do more than this, and they never expect him to prevent or bring about the rain, or in any way hold him responsible for the weather as it may in fact eventually occur. The sorcery connected with illness and death is not so simple ; but I must only deal with it very shortly. This department of sorcery obviously includes the ceremony in connection with the supposed dying chief. But it is not confined to this ceremony, as it is generally believed by the Mafulu people that sickness, which does not neces- sarily end in death, and death itself, can be, and commonly is, brought about by the operation of sorcerers in one way or another through the medium of certain things, one of 286 AILMENTS which is the inedible part of some vegetable or fruit which the victim has recently eaten (e.g. the outside part of a sweet potato or banana or the cane fibre of a sugar-cane). No one ever carelessly throws aside his food remnants of this character, lest they should be used for purposes of hostile sorcery against himself ; he carefully keeps them under his control until he can take them to a river, into which he throws them, after which they are harmless as a medium against him. The fear concerning these remains is that a sorcerer will use them for a ceremony somewhat similar to that described in connection with the death of a chief, but in a hostile way. Serious illness or death of either an adult or an infant, if not caused by visible accident, is generally attributed, subject to limitations, to spirits acting through the medium of the sorcerers. The belief as to this arises if the victim, being an ordinary person, is comparatively young, or in the prime of life, say under forty or forty-five, or if the victim, being a chief or a member of a chief's family or a person of very high position, is even over that age, unless he is very old, and old age is recognized as the natural cause of his illness or death. No efforts appear to be made by imprecation or other supernatural method to propitiate or contend against these spirits, except by the use of general charms against illness, and except, so far as the propitiation or driving out of the spirit is involved, by one or other of the specific remedies for specific ailments mentioned below. The natives have, however, for common diseases cures, of which some are obviously purely fanciful and superstitious, but some are probably more or less practical. The chief ailments are colds and complications arising AILMENTS 287 from them, malaria, dysentery, stomach and bowel and similar complaints, toothache and wounds. Dysentery has recognized and accredited curers, both men and women. The operator chews and crushes with his teeth the root of a vegetable which is grown in the gardens, and then wraps it up into a small bundle in a bimch of grass, and gives it to the patient to suck. This remedy does not appear to be effective. There are men who are specially skilled in dealing with stomach and bowel troubles. The operator takes in his hand a stone, and with the other hand he sprinkles that stone over with ashes. He then makes over it an incan- tation, in which, though his lips are seen to be moving, no sound comes from them ; after which he takes some of the ashes from the stone, which he still holds in his hand, and with these ashes he rubs the stomach of the patient, who, I was told, generally at once feels rather better, or says so. There are also women who deal with cases believed to be caused by the presence in the stomach of a snake, which has to be got out. Here the operator takes a piece of bark cloth, with which she rubs the front of the patient's body, but without any incantation. Then, as she removes the cloth from the body, she makes a movement as though she were wrapping up in it something, presumably the escaped snake ; and afterwards she carries the cloth away with her, and the cure is thus effected. A man with toothache will say that " a spirit is eating my teeth." The people seem to have a knowledge of something inside the teeth, the nature of which I am not able to state definitely, but which apparently is, in fact, the nerve ; and they recognize that it is in this some- 288 WOUNDS thing that the pain arises ; but I could not ascertain the connection between the something and the spirit which is supposed to cause the trouble. If the aching tooth can be got at, they adopt a method, the native explanation of which was translated to me as being a drawing or driving out of the mysterious something from the tooth. This is done in some way with an ordinary native comb, without extracting the tooth itself ; but how it is done I could not ascertain. There is no incantation connected with the operation. Another cure is for the patient to chew the leaf of a certain tree, so that the sap of it gets into the hole in the tooth, and thereby, as they think, draws or drives out this nerve, or whatever the something may be. The Fathers of the mission told me that both these two remedies do really appear to be effective. Wounds are the speciality of many healers with special knowledge of the curative properties of various plants, and who gather the plant, make an incantation over it, boil it in water, and then with that water wash the wound. There are also men who operate surgically on wounds with knives made of stone or shell or bamboo. Charms, probably of a poisonous nature, are used generally for the warding off of sickness, these being carried in little charm bags. A general and universal cure for all ailments is a frag- ment of bark, tied with a piece of string to the neck or head, all neck ornaments having been first removed. If the belief arises that a death has been brought about by spiritualistic influence, the family will probably go to some person who is believed to be in touch with spirits and able to designate the culprit. I cannot say whether or not the person so employed is regarded as being a INFERIOR MAGIC MEN 289 sorcerer in the full sense of the word, or as merely one of the inferior types of magic men above referred to. Probably he is only the latter, as I do not think there are any juvenile sorcerers among the Mafulu, and this particular person may be quite a young boy ; indeed, there is in a village near to the Mafulu mission station a young boy who is supposed to have this power. As a matter of fact this boy is not quite sane ; but this state of mind is not among the Mafulu in any way a necessary, or indeed a usual, qualification for a sorcerer or magic man of any sort. The person appealed to will perhaps tell them who has done the deed, or will make some oracular statement which will lead to his identification. The culprit identified by him will in any case be a member of another clan, and most probably of another community. When he has been discovered, there will probably be a fight, in which the members of the victim's clan, or even, especially if the victim be a chief or big person, the whole of his community, will join the injured relatives, this question of suspected causing of death being, like that of non-repayment of the price paid for a runaway wife, one of the frequent causes of inter-community fighting. The class of magic men who are something less than sorcerers, and whose powers are perhaps confined to the knowledge of certain specific forms of incantation, would probably include the person who does the nose-boring, and perhaps the person who detects the causes of death above referred to. It would also, I think, include the men who ascertain the whereabouts of a stolen article and discover the thief, and who perform the ceremony in connection with hunting, and the persons who effect, or profess to effect, cures of a more or less superstitious T 290 OMENS nature, all of whom are probably not regarded as full sorcerers. The Mafulu people believe in charms. I have already referred to those used by young men desirous of marrying. But there are many other more important charms for various purposes, such as averting illness and death, success in hunting and fishing, and perhaps preservation in time of war. These charms may be stones, small pieces of different sorts of bark, flowers, or various kinds of poisons, though the poisons appear to be only used for averting illness and death. They are all procured from sorcerers, who may be of the same or of some other village, or of another community, and there are sorcerers who have specialities in certain sorts of charms. These charms are often carried inside small charm bags. They also believe in omens ; but of these I was only able to hear of two examples — namely, flying foxes, and fireflies, the latter, though common in the plains, being rare on the mountains ; and both of these are bad omens. Any person or party starting off on a journey, or on a hunt- ing or fishing expedition, and meeting either of these creatures would probably at once turn back ; and I was told that even a full war party starting off on a punitive expedition would turn back, or at least halt for a time, if it met one or other of them. I cannot help thinking there must be some other omens, which I have failed to discover. CHAPTER XXII CONCLUSION It was a sad moment when the day for my departure arrived ; but I was compelled to go, as I was then hardly able to stand, much less to walk. A native hammock had been slung upon a long pole, and ten extra men had been engaged to carry me down, the men taking the work in overs. We returned by the direct route to Oroi, via the mission path, the journey taking six days, of which four were spent in actual travel, one in resting at Dilava, and one in getting across Hall Sound to the mission station at Yule Island. The Bishop joined me at Dilava, and I had the benefit of his cheering companionship during the rest of the journey. My one-poled hammock was inevitable, as the width of the path did not allow of two men walking abreast, so the four carriers had to walk tandem, two in front and two behind. It was, however, by no means comfortable, and I was glad when, after two days' journey, we reached Dilava, and the path becoming broader, we were able to rearrange matters, fitting the hammock with double poles. The hammock had to be stretched so closely to the pole above it as to leave no room for my body between them. I therefore had to lie with my head and body on the right-hand side of the pole, insert my legs beneath it and stretch them out on the other side, and so endeavour 291 292 AN UNCOMFORTABLE JOURNEY to establish equilibrium ; this was all very well up to a point, but it produced a distinct list to starboard, and my head soon rolled off its cushion, and hung downwards, like that of a Christmas goose. My efforts to stop my carriers proved futile, and Sam, to whom I called for help, was far away, as, indeed, he generally was when specially wanted. The blood was rapidly accumulating in my head, when eventually I managed to attract the attention of the men, and made them put me down upon the ground, so that I was able, by a rearrangement of the cushion, to cure the trouble of a pendent head, though not to secure a really restful attitude ; and, as the hours passed by, my cramped and immovable position was far from comfortable. A further humour of the situation arose from my efforts to improve the equilibrium by projecting my feet out- ward beyond the net on the left-hand side ; the path was narrow, and trees and projecting rocks beside it were numerous, so frequent collisions between these and my feet were sources of some annoyance to my carriers, and still more so to me, though this latter point was one which did not appear to concern them much. Also they had a cheerful way of marching on with quick and buoyant step, utterly regardless of the long vegetable stems, often armed with prickles or serrated edges, which stretched across the path, and raked me fore and aft ; indeed I had to keep a constant look-out for these things, and cover my face and hands with my helmet whenever I saw one coming. The most absurd difficulty arose, however, soon after the beginning of the first day's march, when a steep ascent of a few hundred yards made my position— head down KIND FRIENDS 293 and feet up — distinctly uncomfortable. I managed, with the aid of Sam, who for once was at hand, to remedy this temporary discomfort by having the position of my litter changed, so that I travelled head first ; but I re- pented the change in sack-cloth and ashes shortly after- wards, when, the top having been gained, and a long descent of miles having commenced, nothing on earth would induce my men to revert to the status quo, and, Sam having once again vanished into space, I had to undergo a sensation somewhat akin, I should think, to that of apoplexy, in addition to my other ills. My carriers, I learnt, regarded my ailment with some perplexity, partly because I did not adopt the saddened mien of one about to die, but especially by reason of my pipe, the solace of my troubles ; for no self-respecting Mafulu would dream of smoking during illness. But the rudest shock of all came when they halted to inspect the dancing ground, partly completed, and already adorned with a few bright berries and flowers, of a bower bird ; for the helpless invalid, in a moment of excitement, was out of the hammock and scrambling up the bank, almost before they knew it ; and I think this must have been regarded as the final proof of gross malingering. The rest of my tale is quickly told. In a couple of weeks at the mission station at Yule Island, tended by my kind friend the Bishop and the Fathers and Sisters of the mission, fed up with all the nourishing delicacies that the establishment could provide, dosed with wine, cheered by the never-ceasing kindness of my hosts, and encouraged by their warm, and far too flattering, appre- ciation of the work I had accomplished, I rapidly gained health and strength ; and when the steamer which was 294 TROPICAL HEAT to take me back to civilization hove in sight, and the time for parting from these kindest of friends and from New Guinea — perhaps for ever — arrived, though still very weak and reduced, I was, like Mr. Micawber, able " once more to walk erect before my fellow-man." Life in the Solomon Islands and New Guinea is no bed of roses, even when you are settled down in a comfortable tent, and are not engaged in tiring, and often painful, marches through almost impenetrable bush. To begin with there is the moist tropical heat, which, day and night, keeps you in a profuse perspiration. The moisture is extraordinary ; even during the dry monsoon the air is like a vapour bath ; every inch of the clothing on your back and in your kit-bag is wet, and frequent hanging up of clothes in the sun, when opportunity arises, is one of the routines of your travels. Then there is the insect and small animal life; mos- quitoes, sand flies, ants, flying ants, and flying, crawling, running, jumping, buzzing, biting, stinging nuisances of all sorts and sizes infest the air, the grass, the bush, and worry you day and night, though the attentions of the mosquitoes are chiefly confined to the period between sunset and sunrise. Once I inadvertently stepped on to the nest of some enormous ants, and in a moment they were swarming up my legs, biting like fiends ; and, whilst I was almost helplessly trying to brush and beat them off, a number of them were running up my sleeves, and some had succeeded in reaching my neck and face. Huge spiders lurk in their webs in the dark shady places of the bush, and your first intimation that you have disturbed one may SCRUB-ITCH 295 be its running over your face, and perhaps trying to get down your neck. Scrub-itch is only met with in certain places ; but, when you cross its zone, it is really a terror. The minute creatures cover your feet and legs and often reach the upper part of your body, and there they bore holes in your skin, in which they bury themselves, and lay their eggs. The irritation is almost beyond endurance, and can only be partly relieved by kerosene, ammonia, or hot salt and water. If you scratch, you will repent it for weeks. No one, who has not experienced it, can realize the daily and nightly annoyance caused by all these insect pests. At night, if you are protected by your mosquito net, you are relieved for a time from their attentions ; but your face, neck, hands, wrists, ankles and feet, and the more exposed parts of your arms and legs are inflamed by a mass of bites and stings, and at first you are driven almost crazy ; though after a time you get more or less accustomed to it, and are able to bear it with comparative patience. There are also, of course, snakes (poisonous and other- wise) and huge centipedes ; but I never had any trouble with these. As regards the former, the white man's boots are a great protection, and it is the poor naked-footed carrier who is most likely to be a victim. Huge cockroaches abound also ; and they and the hermit crabs have a pleasant way of secreting themselves among your clothing, in your boots, or even in your bed. I do not know whether scorpions are abundant, as I only saw a few. On one occasion I found one in my kit-bag among my clothes. I was diving my hand into the bag for a garment, 296 ANTS and touched the creature ; but fortunately I was able to snatch away my hand before it had time to sting me. White ants are a great nuisance, as the}^ will eat through a wooden packing-case, and commit havoc with its con- tents ; though, so far as my experience goes, they only do this if the box is left some little time in one place. Whilst in Kulambangra I found that they had infested my leather gun-case. Cruikshank had a wonderful remedy for this ; he scattered sugar over the gun-case, and im- ported into it a quantity of big black ants, which, he said, would be attracted by the sugar, and then wage war against the smaller white ones, and exterminate them. His remedy was successful to the extent of attracting the black ants ; but they devoted themselves exclusively to the sugar, and took no notice of the others. So we had to tear off all the lining of the gun-case, and soak the leather with boiling water ; and the poor case still bears the honourable scars of war. The trouble of the biting insects is by no means con- fined to the irritation which they cause, though this is bad enough. Their bites have penetrated the skin, and left innumerable openings, into which the septic poisons, which seem to infest the moist tropical atmosphere of this region of the globe, can enter ; and this trouble is made even more serious by proximity to natives, with their loathsome sores and skin complaints, the swarming insects carrying the infection everywhere. Hence you have septic sores, which sometimes resist all efforts to destroy the microbes. Permanganate, car- bolic, boracic, iodoform, and even the powerful corrosive sublimate may be applied without result ; and, often, as the sore heals in one place, it breaks out somewhere MEDICAL TREATMENT 297 else and spreads. My narrative tells how I was troubled by this ; but it seems to be quite a common thing. The Bishop was once, I think, laid up for six weeks with it, and Father Fastre, when he first arrived at Mafulu, had a sore on his foot, which laid him up for five months. And this sort of thing not only incapacitates one for the time, but is a serious drain upon the system. The food question would probably not trouble a young man, with a strong and healthy appetite, as it did me ; but I would advise even him to take out carefully selected and tested tinned meat from England, and not to rely upon the resources of such a place as Port Moresby. The tins should be small, especially when required by a solitary traveller ; as, when once opened, their contents are quite unfit for eating in a very few hours. You must of course be your own doctor, unless you are one of an organized expedition which includes a medical man among its members. You have your medicine chest, and presumably have taken the precaution of learning beforehand something of the simpler and more likely ailments and their appropriate remedies, and you start off on your travels fairly confident. But, when you are alone in the wilds, matters assume a very different aspect ; you find that diagnosis is not quite so simple as you expected it to be, and that the remedies do not operate quite as they are supposed to do, and you are sometimes at your wits' end to know what to do. You must not think of the possibility of a serious, dangerous illness, with which you would be quite unable to deal, and which would prob- ably bring your travels to a speedy termination. The reader may ask, What on earth is the good of deliber- ately exposing oneself to all these discomforts and pains ? T 2 298 A FASCINATING STUDY The question has often been asked before, and the answer is always the same. The fascination of travelling in strange, wild countries compensates for everything. You may be a geographical explorer, or a naturalist, or your interest may be, as mine was, the study of some primitive branches of the human race ; it matters not what you have gone out for to see, as in all cases the great interest of it all buoys you up through the most trying discomforts, and you feel that the game is well worth the candle. To me the interest was intense. I was travelling among the modern, living representatives of primitive races of prehistoric times. We, at home in Europe, dig up the bones and implements of these people, exhibit them to the learned, read papers about them, expound our theories as to who and what the people were, how they lived, what they did and thought, and dispute the theories of our friends ; and how little do we really know about them! But in the Solomons and New Guinea one is actually living with such people, talking to them, observing their every movement, watching the daily current of their lives, studying their social system, noting their culture and technology, learning a little of what is in their minds, of their beliefs and superstitions, and getting to know some- thing of their ceremonies and the meanings of them. No careful reconstruction of dry bones, or ingenious conclusions, based often on very slender and doubtful premisses, are needed here, for one has got the living, moving, working, playing, talking, thinking man him- self. This aspect of the matter was ever in my mind during my travels, and added a sort of wondering sense of mystery PLEASANT RECOLLECTIONS 299 to it all ; it was to me something more than mere cold, scientific, ethnological observation and recording of data ; and even now, as I look back upon it, this is the side of the picture to which my memory clings. But, quite apart from the human interest of travel in the Islands of the Pacific, the marvellous beauty of one's surroundings there is alone an ample compensation for all its woes. I have in a previous chapter tried, feebly and ineffectively, to sketch the beauty of a coral island ; and I can truly say that I would delight to go through all my worst experiences again for the sake of another view of a coral-girt, palm-clad island and its lagoon, another wander along the golden beach in the bright, blazing sun- light, when the palm trees are reflected, sometimes in minutest detail, in the waters of the lagoon, another stroll in the early evening, when the sun is setting behind a grove of stately palms, and reflecting its coloured glories on the water, another final evening pipe, as I watch the soft mysteries of the almost departed light. INDEX Accident, An awkward, 86 Admiralty Is., 59 Adultery, Punishment for, 218 Adzes or "Tomahawks,'" 226; Rubiana, 23 Agriculture anions the Mafulu, 233 AipOj The, 147 Amputation as a sign of mourn- ing, 272 Angabunga or St. Joseph's R., 92, 102, 164 Ants, Flying, 41 ; Destructive, 195; Ferocious, 294; Black, 296; White, 296 Armlets, 23 Art, Mafulu, 234 Atoll, The, 28 Australian Labour law, 104 B Bags, Mafulu, 212 Bags, Men's netted, 123 Baldwin, Mr., 89 Balsams, 171 Banks Group, The, 59 Bark, A piece of, as a universal cure, 288 Barrier, reef, 28 Beetles, 175 Belts, Mafulu, 208 Betel-chewing, 123 Big Feast, Mafulu, 244 Bioto Creek, 95 ; village, 98 Birds, 97 ; in the Mekeo district, 101 Birds of Paradise, 196; killing, 229 Birth, 62 Birth ceremonies, 116, 225 Bismarck Archipelago, 59 ; initia- tion ceremonies, 61 Black ants, 296 Bleaching the hair, Rubiana, 23 Boboi, The, 170 Bodet, Father, 192 Boismenn, Monsgr. de, 95 ; ad- ventures of, 201 Bower-birds, Killing, 229 Breakfast, A Mekeo, 120 Burial, Government restriction, 157, Burial of the dead among the Melanesians, 66; Mekeo, 151; Mafulu, 271 ; of a chief, 276 Burial platform, A Mafulu, 248, 250 Bush, Monotonous, 100 C Cairns or graves at Kulambangia, 66 Camera, Effect of the, 31 Cannibalism amona; the Mafulu, 223; Kuni, 180 ; Dilava, 195 Cannibals, Rubiana, 18 Canoes, 41 Canoes on the Rubiana Lagoon, 63 301 302 INDEX Caroline Is., Labour in the, 104 Carriers, Difficulties with, 103, 163 Carriers, Paying off the, 108, 167, 177, 184, 188 "Cassowary" dance, 140 Centipedes, 56, 295 Ceremonies in Mekeo, birth, 116 : perineal band, 116 ; joint chief- tainship, 117; marriage, 130; marriage in Roro, 134, 148; Mekeo funeral, 151 ; ipangava, 153, 155 Ceremonies, initiation, 61 ; mar- riage, 62 ; religious, 74 Charm bag, A Mafulu, 265 Charms, 288, 290 Charms against illness, Mafulu, 286 Chiefs, Mafulu, 214; duties of, 217, 267 Chiefs, Mekeo and Roro, 114, 117 Children, Adoption of, 223 Children, Mafulu, 255 Clans, Mafulu, 214; Mekeo, 114 Clauser, Father, 204 Climate, Differences of, 199 Climate of Port Moresby, 87 Clothing of the Rubiana men and women, 22 Club-houses, 35; Mekeo, 113; A Kuni, 183; Mafulu, 215; ceremonies attending admission to a, 255 Cockatoos, 56 Coco-nut palms, 22, 28; dangers of the, 47 Combs, Mafulu, 209 Comet, Influence of a, 98 ; terror caused by, 197 Commissariat, 93 Conservatism in New Guinea, 118 Cookery, Mafulu, 211 Cooking a pig, 186 Copyright-law, Native, 141 Coral, Islands, beauty of, 28 Coral garden, A, 55 Corals, Beautiful, 34 Counting, Mafulu, 240 Courtesy, 115 Courting in Mekeo, 127 Crocodiles, 54, 97 Crocodiles, Representation of, 65 Cruikshank, 43, 48 Curios, Collecting, 106 Currency, Native, 107 D Dances, Mekeo, 142 Dancing in the Roro and Mekeo districts, 137; Mafulu, 239 Dandy, A Mekeo, 122 Danger from natives, The, 203 Dangerous path, A, 102 Dangers in travelling, 68 Davidson, Mt., 96, 170 Death customs at Dilava, 195; Mafulu, 269 Deserted villages, 76 Deva-Deva, 199 ; houses, 200 ; tree ferns, 201 Dilava, 96, 98, 163, 191; mission house, 192; magnificent pano- rama, 192 ; malarial fever, 193; the people, 195; cannibalism, 195 ; Birds of Paradise, 196 Disappointments, 86 Diseases, Cures of, 287 Divination, 83 Divorce in Mekeo, 134 Dogs, 120 Doutenville, Father, 204 Dress and implements in Sychele, 40 ; the Motu and Koita vil- lages, 91 ; of the Mafulu, 208; of the Mekeo people, 112 Drum-making, Mafulu, 258 Drums, Mafulu, 236 " Dug-outs," 63 Dying chief, Ceremony in the case of a, 274 INDEX 303 Ear ornaments in the Mekeo dis- trict, 113 Ear-rings, Mafnlu, 209 Ears, Piercing the, Rubiana, 23 Egidi, Father, 163 Elopements, 133 Eschelman, Father, 192 Ethel, R., The, 95 Ethnology, Difficulties and de- lights of, 206 Exogamy, 129; on the Rubiana Lagoon, 60 Falala, or war-dance, 148 Fastre, Father, 20-4 Fauna, 170 Feasts, Kuni, 185 Feather ornaments, Mafulu, 210 Feathers as signs, 127 Fiji, 59 Fishes, Brilliant coloured, 35, 56, 230 Fishing, 230 Flora, 170 : of the Solomon Is., 57 Food as an offering to the de- parted, 7-4 Food, Mafnlu, 211 Food stores, 92 Food supply, The, 297 Frigate birds, 56 Fringing reefs, 28 Funeral ceremonies, Mafulu, 271 G Gardens, Mekeo, 101 ; Mafulu, 221 German New Guinea, Labour in, 104 Ghosts and spirits, 67, 73, 157, 197: Mafulu belief in. 280 Gizo, 18 Goura pigeons, 146, 196 Grave, A Mafulu, 273 J Graves, Mekeo, 152 Guests and Hosts at a Big Feast, 249 H Haddon, Dr., 235 Hair-dressing, Rubiana, 23; Kuni, 179; Mafulu, 20S Hall Sound, 96 Hammock, A one-poled, 291 Haunted trees, 283 Hawaii, 59 Head hunters, Rubiana, 18 Hoods, Mafulu, 209 Hornbills, 170 Houses, Rubiana, 24 ; Mekeo, 113; Kuni, 182; Deva-Deva, 200; Mafulu, 213 Hunting among the Mafulu, 226 Ido-Ido, 172; new I., 173; fear of the camera, 178; situation, 183: bluff, 189 Idols not worshipped, 80 Illness attributed to spirits, 81 ; to sorcery, 285 Illness whilst at Mafulu, 204 Impatiens Herwjii, 171; L Haw- keri, 171 Inanimate objects, Supernatural power of, 72 Inawauni, 163 Initiation ceremonies in Melanesia, 61 Infant betrothal anions the Ma- fulu, 264 Infanticide among the Mafulu, 222 Inheritance among the Mafulu, 221 Insect life in the Mekeo district, 101,294 304 INDEX Invocations, 75 Iofo, The, 147 Ipangava festival, 153 J Jews' harp, Mafulu, 236 Joint chieftainship in Mekeo, 117 K KangaJcangci) patent or copyright, 141 Kefe, The, 147 Killing and wounding, Punish- ment for, 218, 222 Koita villages, 91 ; dress, 91 Kulambano-ra : inter- village con- flicts, 43 ; impertinent boat- man, 44 ; search for entrance, 46 ; suspicious sounds, 50 ; Seto, 50; taboo, 51 ; crocodiles, 54 ; birds, 56 ; sea-slugs, 57 ; orchids, 57 ; people, 60 ; ex- ogamy, 60 ; graves, 66 ; de- serted villages, 76 ; superstition, 77 Kuni District, 92 ; Ido-Ido, 173; beetles, 175; personal charac- teristics, 178 ; dress, 179 ; hair- dressing, 179; ornaments, 180; cannibalism, 180; social systems, 182; villages, 182; club-house, 183; suspension bridge, 183; custom, 184; feasts, 1 85 ; wireless telegraphy, 185; cooking a pig, 186; terror caused by comet, 197 Kuni, The, 60 Labour j The question of, 104 Lagoon, A, 28, 34 Lameness, 169 Lapeka District, The, 92, 163, 165; personal characteristics, 166; women's petticoats, 179 Leeches, 166, 171 Levirate in Melanesia, Custom of, 61 Lime paste for bleaching the hair, 23, 123 Lizards, 56 M f 'Macgregor Bear." The, 226 Mafulu, 97 ; mission at, 201 adventures of the Bishop, 201 punitive expedition, 202 ; ill ness, 204; physique, 208 language, 208; dress, 208 hair-dressing, 208 ; hoods, 209 mourning, 209 ; decorations 209 ; combs, 209 ; earrings 209 ; nose ornaments, 209 feathers, 210; staining the skin, 210 ; food, 211; cookery, 211; bags, 212; pigs, 212; villages, 212; houses, 213; clans, 214; chiefs, 214; club- houses, 215; social life, 215; taboos, 215; salutations, 216; offences and punishments, 217; property, 220; gardens, 221; women, 221 ; infanticide, 222 ; cannibalism, 223 ; warfare, 223 ; prisoners, 225 ; weapons, 225 ; hunting, 226 ; fishing, 230 ; agriculture, 233 ; art, 234 ; music, 236 ; dancing, 239 ; numeration, 240 ; Big Feast, 244; birth, 255; children, 255 ; ceremonies, 255; nose-piercing, 260; marriage, 263 ; infant be- trothal, 264 ; marriage cere- mony, 266 ; chiefs, 267 ; death ceremonies, 269 ; funeral ceremonies, 271 ; mourning, 272 : grave, 273 ; removal of mourning, 274 ; dying chief, 274 ; burial of a chief, 276; village desertion, INDEX 305 278; ghosts and spirits, 280; sorcerers, 284; healers. 287 ; charms, 288; omens, 290 Magic and Sorcery, 80 ; and Sorcery in the Solomon Is., 81 Magic men inferior to sorcerers, 289 Magic men, Mekeo, 161 Magnifying glass, A. 25 Malarial Wis, 194 Malarial fever, 192 Mcaia or Supernatural power, 71, 157 Mango swamps, 97 Maori, The, 59 Marquesas Is., 59 Marriage ceremonies, absence of, in Melanesia, 62 ; in Mekeo, 129; ceremony in the Roro district, 134 ; among the Mafulu, 264, 266 Meals, Mekeo, 20, 21 Medicine chest, The, 297 Medicine in the Solomon Is., 82 Mekeo people, The, 92; 98 \ villages, 100; scenery, 100; insects, 101 ; gardens, 101 ; carriers, 105; trade, 107; Mis- sion of the Sacred Heart, 109; people, 111; dress, 112 ; tattoo- ing, 112; ear and nose ornaments, 113; houses, 113; club-houses, 113; clans, 114; courtesy, 115; ceremonies, 116; chiefs, 117; daily life, 118; food, 119; work," 120; tattooing, 121 ; a dandy, 122; dress, 122 ; betel-chewing, 123 : smoking, 123; courting, 127; marriage, 129 ; polygamy, 133 ; divorce, 134; dancing, 137; personal decoration, 142 ; the ke/e and iofo, 147 ; ceremonies, liS; falala, 148; 'burial, 151 ipamjava, 153 ; mournin