Two Years with the Natives in the Western Pacific

 By

 Dr. Felix Speiser

 With 40 illustrations from photographs and a map

PREFACE

This book is a collection of sketches written on lonely eveningsduring my voyage; some of them have been published in daily papers, and were so kindly received by the public as to encourage me toissue them in book form. In order to retain the freshness of firstimpressions, the original form has been but slightly changed, andonly so much ethnological detail has been added as will help to anunderstanding of native life. The book does not pretend to give ascientific description of the people of the New Hebrides; that willappear later; it is meant simply to transmit some of the indelibleimpressions the traveller was privileged to receive, --impressionsboth stern and sweet. The author will be amply repaid if he succeedsin giving the reader some slight idea of the charm and the terrorsof the islands. He will be proud if his words can convey a vision ofthe incomparable beauty and peacefulness of the glittering lagoon, and of the sublimity of the virgin forest; if the reader can divinethe charm of the native when gay and friendly, and his ferocity whengloomy and hostile. I have set down some of the joys and some of thehardships of an explorer's life; and I received so many kindnessesfrom all the white colonists I met, that one great object of mywriting is to show my gratitude for their friendly help. 

First of all, I would mention His Britannic Majesty's Resident, Mr. Morton King, who followed my studies with the most sympatheticinterest, was my most hospitable host, and, I may venture tosay, my friend. I would name Mr. Colonna, Résident de France, Judge Alexander in Port Vila, and Captain Harrowell; in Santo, Rev. Father Bochu, the Messrs. Thomas, Mr. Fysh, Mr. Clapcott; inMalo, Mr. M. Wells and Mr. Jacquier; in Vao, Rev. Father Jamond; inMalekula, Rev. F. Paton, Rev. Jaffrays, Mr. Bird and Mr. Fleming;in Ambrym, Rev. Dr. J. J. Bowie, Mr. Stevens, Mr. Decent; inPentecoste, Mr. Filmer; in Aoba, Mr. Albert and Rev. Grunling; inTanna, Rev. Macmillan and Dr. Nicholson; in Venua Lava, Mr. Choyer; inNitendi, Mr. Matthews. I am also indebted to the Anglican missionaries, especially Rev. H. N. Drummond, and to Captain Sinker of the steamyacht Southern Cross, to the supercargo and captains of the steamersof Burns, Philp & Company. There are many more who assisted me invarious ways, often at the expense of their own comfort and interest, and not the least of the impressions I took home with me is, thatnowhere can one find wider hospitality or friendlier helpfulness thanin these islands. This has helped me to forget so many things thatdo not impress the traveller favourably. 

If this book should come under the notice of any of these kind friends, the author would be proud to think that they remember him as pleasantlyas he will recall all the friendship he received during his stay inthe New Hebrides. 

BASLE, April 1913. 

CONTENTS

 Chap. Page Introduction 1 I. Nouméa and Port Vila 19 II. Maei, Tongoa, Epi and Malekula 28 III. The Segond Channel--Life on a Plantation 35 IV. Recruiting for Natives 53 V. Vao 85 VI. Port Olry and a "Sing-Sing" 109 VII. Santo 136 VIII. Santo (continued)--Pygmies 161 IX. Santo (continued)--Pigs 171 X. Climbing Santo Peak 179 XI. Ambrym 191 XII. Pentecoste 224 XIII. Aoba 241 XIV. Loloway--Malo--The Banks Islands 250 XV. Tanna 270 XVI. The Santa Cruz Islands 277

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

 Shore in Graciosa Bay Frontispiece   Facing page Women From the Reef Islands in Carlisle Bay 3 Native Taro Field on Maevo 10 Man from Nitendi working the Loom 15 A Cannibal before his Hut on Tanna 22 Dancing Table near Port Sandwich 31 Old Man with Young Wife on Ambrym 40 Front of a Chief's House on Venua Lava 47 Man from Nitendi 54 Cannibal from Big Nambas 61 Woman on Nitendi 70 Canoe on Ureparapara 77 Dancing-Ground on Vao, with Ancestor Houses 85 Dancing-Ground on Vao 93 Woman from Tanna 99 House Fences on Vao 106 Gamal near Port Olry 115 Group of Large and Small Drums near Port Sandwich 129 View along the Shore of a Coral Island 136 Interior of a Gamal on Venua Lava 147 Wild Mountain Scenery in the District of the Pygmies 163 Irrigated Taro Field on Santo 179 Dwelling of a Trader on Ambrym 191 View from Hospital--Dip Point 199 Women cooking on Ambrym 205 Fern Trees on Ambrym 218 Group of Drums and Statues on Malekula 227 Cooking-House on Aoba 241 Fire-Rubbing 244 Tattooing on Aoba 251 Dwelling-House on Gaua 255 Ancestor-House on Gaua 258 Drum Concert on Ureparapara 261 Interior of a Gamal on Gaua 264 Men from Tanna 270 Women from Tanna 272 Canoe from Nitendi 277 Man from Nitendi, Shooting 279 Man from Nitendi, with Pearl Shell Nose 284 Man from Tucopia 287 Map 291

TWO YEARS WITH THE NATIVES IN THE WESTERN PACIFIC

INTRODUCTION

Late in the sixteenth century the Spaniards made several voyagesin search of a continent in the southern part of the great PacificOcean. Alvara Mendana de Neyra, starting in 1568 from the west coast ofSouth America and following about the sixth degree southern latitude, found the Solomon Islands, which he took for parts of the desiredcontinent. In 1595 he undertook another voyage, keeping a moresoutherly course, and discovered the Queen Charlotte Islands; thelargest of these, Nitendi, he called Santa Cruz, and gave the fittingname of Graciosa Bay to the lovely cove in which he anchored. He triedto found a colony here, but failed. Mendana died in Santa Cruz, andhis lieutenant, Pedro Vernandez de Quiros, led the expedition home. InEurope, Quiros succeeded in interesting the Spanish king, Philip III. , in the idea of another voyage, so that in 1603 he was able to set sailfrom Spain with three ships. Again he reached the Santa Cruz Islands, and sailing southward from there he landed in 1606 on a larger island, which he took for the desired Australian continent and called TierraAustralis del Espiritu Santo; the large bay he named San Iago and SanFelipe, and his anchorage Vera Cruz. He stayed here some months andfounded the city of New Jerusalem at the mouth of the river Jordanin the curve of the bay. Quiros claims to have made a few sailingtrips thence, southward along the east coast of the island; if he hadpushed on far enough these cruises might easily have convinced him ofthe island-nature of the country. Perhaps he was aware of the truth;certainly the lovely descriptions he gave King Philip of the beautiesof the new territory are so exaggerated that one may be pardonedfor thinking him quite capable of dignifying an island by the nameof continent. 

The inevitable quarrels with the natives, and diseases and mutiniesamong his crew, forced him to abandon the colony and return home. Hislieutenant, Luis Vaez de Torres, separated from him, discovered andpassed the Torres Straits, a feat of excellent seamanship. Quirosreturned to America. His high-flown descriptions of his discovery didnot help him much, for the king simply ignored him, and his reportswere buried in the archives. Quiros died in poverty and bitterness, and the only traces of his travels are the names Espiritu Santo, Bay San Iago and San Felipe, and Jordan, in use to this day. 

No more explorers came to the islands till 1767, when a Frenchman, Carteret, touched at Santa Cruz, and 1768, when Bougainville landedin the northern New Hebrides, leaving his name to the treacherouschannel between Malekula and Santo. 

But all these travellers were thrown into the shade by the immortaldiscoverer, James Cook, who, in the New Hebrides, as everywhere else, combined into solid scientific material all that his predecessors hadleft in a state of patchwork. Cook's first voyage made possible theobservation of the transit of Venus from one of the islands of thePacific. His second cruise, in search of the Australian continent, led him, coming from Tongoa, to the New Hebrides, of which he firstsighted Maevo. 

Assisted by two brilliant scientists, Reinhold and George Forster, Cook investigated the archipelago with admirable exactitude, determinedthe position of the larger islands, made scientific collections ofall sorts, and gave us the first reliable descriptions of the countryand its people, so that the material he gathered is of the greatestvalue even at the present day. The group had formerly been known asthe "Great Cyclades"; Cook gave it its present name of "New Hebrides. "

Incited by Cook's surprising results the French Government sent LaPérouse to the islands, but he was shipwrecked in 1788 on Vanikoro, thesouthern-most of the Santa Cruz group; remains of this wreck were foundon Vanikoro a few years ago. In 1789 Bligh sighted the Banks Islands, and in 1793 d'Entrecastaux, sent by Louis XVI. To the rescue of LaPérouse, saw the islands of Santa Cruz. Since that time traffic withthe islands became more frequent; among many travellers we may mentionthe French captain, Dumont d'Urville, and the Englishmen, Belcher andErskine, who, as well as Markham, have all left interesting accounts. 

But with Markham we enter that sad period which few islands of thePacific escaped, in which the scum of the white race carried ontheir bloodstained trade in whaling products and sandalwood. Theyterrorized the natives shamelessly, and when these, naturally enough, often resorted to cruel modes of defence, they retaliated with deedsstill more frightful, and the bad reputation they themselves madefor the natives served them as a welcome excuse for a system ofextermination. The horrors of slave-trade were added to piracy, sothat in a few decades the native race of the New Hebrides and BanksIslands was so weakened that in many places to-day its preservationseems hopeless. 

Thus, for the financial advantage of the worst of whites, and fromindolence and short-sighted national rivalry, a race was sacrificedwhich in every respect would be worth preserving, and it is a shamefulfact that even to-day such atrocities are not impossible and verylittle is done to save the islanders from destruction. 

The only factor opposing these conditions was the Mission, whichobtained a foothold in the islands under Bishop John Williams. Hewas killed in 1839 by the natives of Erromanga, but the Protestantmissionaries, especially the Presbyterians, would not be repulsed, and slowly advanced northward, in spite of many losses. To-day thePresbyterian mission occupies all the New Hebrides, with the exceptionof Pentecoste, Aoba and Maevo. To the north lies the field of theAnglican mission, extending up to the Solomon Islands. 

In 1848 Roman Catholic missionaries settled in Aneityum, but soongave up the station; in 1887 they returned and spread all over thearchipelago, with the exception of the southern islands and theBanks group. 

Of late years several representatives of free Protestant sects havecome out, but, as a rule, these settle only where they can combinea profitable trade with their mission work. 

Owing to energetic agitation on the part of the Anglican andPresbyterian Churches, especially of Bishop Patteson and theRev. J. G. Paton, men-of-war were ordered to the islands on policeduty, so as to watch the labour-trade. They could not suppresskidnapping entirely, and the transportation of the natives toQueensland continued until within the last ten years, when it wassuppressed by the Australian Government, so that to-day the nativesare at least not taken away from their own islands, except thoserecruited by the French for New Caledonia. 

Unhappily, England and France could not agree as to who should annexthe New Hebrides. Violent agitation in both camps resulted in neitherpower being willing to leave the islands to the other, as numericalsuperiority on the French side was counter-balanced by the absoluteeconomical dependence of the colonists upon Australia. England putthe group under the jurisdiction of the "Western Pacific, " witha high commissioner; France retorted by the so-called purchase ofall useful land by the "Société Française des Nouvelles Hébrides, "a private company, which spent great sums on the islands in a shorttime. Several propositions of exchange failed to suit either of thepowers, but both feared the interference of a third, and conditionsin the islands called urgently for a government; so, in 1887, adual control was established, each power furnishing a warship and anaval commissioner, who were to unite in keeping order. This was thebeginning of the present Condominium, which was signed in 1906 andproclaimed in 1908 in Port Vila; quite a unique form of governmentand at the same time a most interesting experiment in internationaladministration. 

The Condominium puts every Englishman or Frenchman under the lawsof his own nation, as represented by its officials; so that thesetwo nationalities live as they would in any colony of their own, while all others have to take their choice between these two. 

Besides the national laws, the Condominium has a few ordinances toregulate the intercourse between the two nations, the sale of liquorand arms to natives, recruiting and treatment of labourers, etc. Asthe highest instance in the islands and as a supreme tribunal, aninternational court of six members has been appointed: two Spanish, two Dutch, one English and one French. Thus the higher officials ofthe Condominium are:

 One English and one French resident commissioner, One Spanish president of the Court, One English and one French judge, One Dutch registrar, One Spanish prosecuting attorney, One Dutch native advocate, One English and one French police commissioner. 

The Santa Cruz Islands were annexed by England in 1898 and belong tothe jurisdiction of the Solomon Islands. 

Geography

The New Hebrides lie between 165° and 170° east longitude, and reachfrom 13° to 20° south latitude. The Santa Cruz Islands lie 116°east and 11° south. 

The New Hebrides and Banks Islands consist of thirteen larger islandsand a great number of islets and rocks, covering an area of about15, 900 km. The largest island is Espiritu Santo, about 107 x 57km. , with 4900 km. Surface. They are divided into the Torres group, the Banks Islands, the Central and the Southern New Hebrides. TheBanks and Torres Islands and the Southern New Hebrides are composedof a number of isolated, scattered islands, while the Central groupforms a chain, which divides at Epi into an eastern and a westernbranch, and encloses a stretch of sea, hemming it in on all sidesexcept the north. On the coast of this inland sea, especially on thewestern islands, large coral formations have grown, changing what wasoriginally narrow mountain chains, running north and south, to largerislands. Indeed, most of them seem to consist of a volcanic nucleus, on which lie great coral banks, often 200 m. High; these usuallydrop in five steep steps to the sea, and then merge into the livingcoral-reef in the water. Most of the islands, therefore, appear astypical table-islands, out of which, in the largest ones, rise therounded tops of the volcanic stones. They are all very mountainous;the highest point is Santo Peak, 1500 m. High. 

The tides cause very nasty tide-rips in the narrow channels betweenthe islands of the Central group; but inside, the sea is fairly good, and the reefs offer plenty of anchorage for small craft. Much lesssafe are the open archipelagoes of the Banks and Torres Islands andof the Southern New Hebrides, where the swell of the open ocean isunbroken by any land and harbours are scarce. 

There are three active volcanoes on the New Hebrides--the mightydouble crater on Ambrym, the steep cone of Lopevi, and the volcanoof Tanna. There is a half-extinct volcano on Venua Lava, and manyother islands show distinct traces of former volcanic activity, such as Meralava and Ureparapara, one side of which has broken down, so that now there is a smooth bay where once the lava boiled. 

Rivers are found only on the larger islands, where there are volcanicrocks. In the coral rocks the rain-water oozes rapidly away, sothat fresh-water springs are not frequently found, in spite of veryconsiderable rainfall. 

Climate

The climate is not hot and very equable. The average temperature inEfate in 1910 was 24. 335° C. ; the hottest month was February, withan average of 27. 295°, the coolest, July with 11. 9° C. The lowestabsolute temperature was 11. 9° C. In August, and the highest 35. 6°C. In March. The average yearly variation, therefore, was 5. 48°, and the absolute difference 23. 7°. 

The rainfall is very heavy. In December the maximum, 564 mm. , wasreached, and in June the minimum, 22 mm. The total rainfall was 3. 012mm. , giving a daily average of 8. 3 mm. 

These figures, taken from a table in the Neo-Hebridais, show that theyear is divided into a cool, dry season and a hot, damp one. From Mayto October one enjoys agreeable summer days, bright and cool, with apredominant south-east trade-wind, that rises and falls with the sunand creates a fairly salubrious climate. From November to April theatmosphere is heavy and damp, and one squall follows another. Oftenthere is no wind, or the wind changes quickly and comes in heavy gustsfrom the north-west. This season is the time for cyclones, which occurat least once a year; happily, their centre rarely touches the islands, as they lie somewhat out of the regular cyclone track. 

A similar climate, with but slightly higher temperature, prevails onthe Santa Cruz Islands. 

Flora and Fauna

The vegetation of the New Hebrides is luxurious enough to make alllater visitors share Quiros' amazement. The possibilities for theplanter are nearly inexhaustible, and the greatest difficulty isthat of keeping the plantations from the constant encroachments ofthe forest. Yet the flora is poorer in forms than that of Asiaticregions, and in the southern islands it is said to be much like thatof New Caledonia. 

As a rule, thick forest covers the islands; only rarely we find areascovered with reed-grass. On Erromanga these are more frequent. 

In the Santa Cruz Islands the flora seems richer than in the NewHebrides. 

Still more simple than the flora is the fauna. Of mammals there areonly the pig, dog, a flying-fox and the rat, of which the first twohave probably been imported by the natives. There are but few birds, reptiles and amphibies, but the few species there are are veryprolific, so that we find swarms of lizards and snakes, the latterall harmless Boidæ, but occasionally of considerable size. 

Crocodiles are found only in the Santa Cruz Islands, and do not growso large there as in the Solomon Islands. 

Animal life in the sea is very rich; turtles and many kinds of fishand Cetaceæ are plentiful. 

Native Population

The natives belong to the Melanesian race, which is a collectivename for the dark-skinned, curly-haired, bearded inhabitants of thePacific. The Melanesians are quite distinct from the Australians, and still more so from the lank-haired, light-skinned Polynesians ofthe eastern islands. Probably a mixture of Polynesians and Melanesiansare the Micronesians, who are light-skinned but curly-haired, and ofwhom we find representatives in the New Hebrides. The island-natureof the archipelago is very favourable to race-mixture; and as we knowthat on some islands there were several settlements of Polynesians, it is not surprising to find a very complex mingling of races, whichit is not an easy task to disentangle. It would seem, however, thatwe have before us remnants of four races: a short, dark, curly-hairedand perhaps original race, a few varieties of the tall Melanesianrace, arrived in the islands in several migrations, an old Polynesianelement as a relic of its former migrations eastward, and a presentPolynesian element from the east. 

Every traveller will notice that the lightest population is in thesouth and north-east of the New Hebrides, while the darkest is inthe north-west, and the ethnological difference corresponds to thisdivision. 

In the Banks Islands we find, probably owing to recent immigration, more Polynesian blood than in the northern New Hebrides; in the SantaCruz group the process of mixing seems to be just going on. 

The number of natives in the New Hebrides and Banks Islandsamounted, according to the approximate census of the British ResidentCommissioner in 1910, to 65, 000. At a conservative estimate we may saythat before the coming of the whites, that is, a generation ago, it wasten times that, i. E. 650, 000. For to judge from present conditions, the accounts of old men and the many ruined villages, it is evidentthat the race must have decreased enormously. 

Language

The languages belong to the Melanesian and Polynesian classes. They aresplit up into numerous dialects, so widely different that natives ofdifferent districts can hardly, if at all, understand each other. Itis evident that owing to the seclusion of the villages caused by thegeneral insecurity of former days, and the lack of any literature, the language developed differently in every village. 

On some islands things are so bad that one may easily walk in one daythrough several districts, in each of which is spoken a language quiteunintelligible to the neighbours; there are even adjoining villageswhose natives have to learn each other's language; this makes themfairly clever linguists. Where, by migrations, conditions have becometoo complicated, the most important of the dialects has been adoptedas a kind of "lingua franca. "

Under these circumstances I at once gave up the idea of learning anative language, as I never stopped anywhere more than a few weeks; andas the missionaries have done good work in the cause of philology, myservices were not needed. I was, therefore, dependent on interpretersin "biche la mar, " a language which contains hardly more than fiftywords, and which is spoken on the plantations, but is quite uselessfor discussing any abstract subject. In nearly every village thereis some man who can speak biche la mar. 

Colonization

As we have seen, colonization in the New Hebrides was begun by thewhalers, who had several stations in the southern islands. They had, however, little intercourse with the natives, and their influencemay be considered fairly harmless. 

More dangerous were the sandalwood traders, who worked chiefly inErromanga. They were not satisfied with buying the valuable woodfrom the natives, but tried to get directly at the rich suppliesinland. Naturally, they came into conflict with the natives, andfierce wars arose, in which the whites fought with all the weaponsunscrupulous cruelty can wield. As a result, the population ofErromanga has decreased from between 5000 and 10, 000 to 800. 

Happily, the northern islands were not so rich in sandalwood, so thatcontact with the whites came later, through the coprah-makers. Coprahis dried cocoa-nut, which is used in manufacturing soap, and thegreat wealth of cocoa-nut palms attracted coprah-makers as earlyas the 'Seventies of the last century. They were nearly all ruinedadventurers, either escaped from the Nouméa penitentiary or otherwisethe scum of the white race. Such individuals would settle neara good anchorage close to some large village, build a straw hut, and barter coprah for European goods and liquor. They made a veryfair profit, but were constantly quarrelling with the natives, whomthey enraged by all sorts of brutalities. The frequent murders ofsuch traders were excusable, to say the least, and many later oneswere acts of justifiable revenge. The traders were kept in contactwith civilization through small sailing-vessels, which brought themnew goods and bought their coprah. This easy money-making attractedmore whites, so that along the coasts of the more peaceable islandsnumerous Europeans settled, and at present there are so many of thesestations that the coprah-trade is no longer very profitable. 

Naturally, many of these settlers started plantations, and thus grewup the plantation centres of Mele, Port Havannah, Port Sandwich, Epiand the Segond Channel. Many plantations were created by the "SociétéFrançaise des Nouvelles Hébrides, " but owing to bad management thesehave never yet brought any returns. 

Thus, to the alcohol peril was added another danger to thenatives, --work on the plantations. They were kidnapped, overworked, ill-fed; it was slavery in its worst shape, and the treatment of thehands is best illustrated by the mortality which, in some places, reached 44 per cent. Per annum. In those days natives were plentifuland labour easy to get, and nobody worried about the future; so theruin of the race began, and to-day their number hardly suffices forthe needs of the planters. 

Then the slave-trade to Queensland, Fiji, even South America began, so that the population, relatively small from the first, decreasedalarmingly, all the more so as they were decimated by dysentery, measles, tuberculosis and other diseases. 

Against all these harmful influences the missions, unsupported as theywere by any authority, could only fight by protests in the civilizedcountries; these proved effectual at last, so that the missions deservegreat credit for having preserved the native race. Yet it cannot besaid that they have restored its vitality, except in Tanna. It seemsas if the system of imbibing the native with so much European culture, and yet separating him from the whites and regulated labour, had beennoxious to the race, for nearly everywhere the Christianized nativesdie out just as fast as the heathen population. 

About ten years after the French, the English began planting, andto-day nearly all arable land along the coast is cultivated. TheEnglish suffer much less from lack of labour, which is doubtless owingto their more humane and just treatment of the hands. In the firstplace, they usually come from better stock than the French, and, secondly, they are strictly controlled by the Government, whereasthe French Government does not even attempt to enforce its own laws. 

There is now some question of importing Indian coolies; the greatexpense this would entail would be a just punishment for theshort-sighted cruelty with which the most valuable product of theislands--their population--has been destroyed. Only by compellingeach native to work for a definite period could a sufficient amountof labour be produced to-day; but such a system, while extremelybeneficial to the race as a whole, stands but a poor chance of beingintroduced. 

The products of the islands are coprah, coffee, corn, cocoa and, oflate years, cotton. The chief item, however, is coprah, for the islandsseem specially suited for the growing of cocoa-nut palms. Rubber doesnot seem to thrive. 

In spite of the great number of officials, the Government does notmake itself much felt outside the larger settlements, at least on theFrench side. There are not yet magistrates on each island, so thatthe Government hears only so much about the crimes committed on theislands as the planters care to tell, and naturally they do not telltoo much. The British Government is represented by two inspectors, who frequently visit all the British plantations and look into labourconditions; the activity of the French authorities is restricted tooccasional visits from the Resident. 

Thus the natives have no means of complaining about the whites, while they have to submit to any punishment they may get on theaccusation of a colonist. This would be a very one-sided affair;happily, the missionaries represent the interests of the natives, and the power of the Government does not reach far inland. There thenatives are quite independent, so that only a few hours away from thecoast cannibalism still flourishes. Formerly, expeditions from themen-of-war frightened the natives; to-day they know that resistanceis easy. It is, therefore, not the merit of the Government or theplanters if the islands are fairly pacified, but only of the missions, which work mostly through native teachers. Still, the missions havehad one bad effect: they have undermined the old native authoritiesand thus created general anarchy to complete the destruction begunby European civilization. 

In the Santa Cruz Islands there is only one plantation, worked by boysfrom the Solomon Islands, as the Santa Cruz natives are not yet used toregular work. But to-day they frequently recruit for the plantationson the Solomons, and there come into contact with civilization. Therethe labour conditions are strictly watched by the British Government;still, boys returning from there have sometimes imported diseases, generally tuberculosis, which have reduced the population by half. 

Commerce

Communications with Sydney, the commercial centre of the WesternPacific, are established by means of a French and an English lineof steamers. A few small steamers and schooners ply at irregularintervals between Nouméa and the New Hebrides. 

The English steamers fly the flag of Burns, Philp & Company, thegreat Australian firm which trades with numerous island groups of theSouth Seas. Their steamers touch the Lord Howe and Norfolk Islands, stop for a few days at Vila, then call in a four weeks' cruise atnearly all the plantations in the islands. They carry the mail andply a profitable trade with the planters; they also do errands forthe colonists in Sydney, procuring anything from a needle to a horseor a house. Being practically without serious competitors they can setany price they please on commodities, so that they are a power in theislands and control the trade of the group; all the more so as manyplanters are dependent on them for large loans. To me, Burns, Philp &Company were extremely useful, as on board their ships I could alwaysfind money, provisions and articles for barter, send my collectionsto Vila, and occasionally travel from one island to another. 

The French line is run by the Messageries Maritimes, on quite adifferent plan: it is merely for mail-service and does not do anytrading. Its handsome steamer travels in three weeks from Sydneyto Nouméa and Port Vila, visits about three plantations and leavesthe islands after one week. This line offers the shortest and mostcomfortable connection with Sydney, taking eight days for the trip, while the English steamers take eleven. 

The port of entrance to the group is Port Vila, chosen for itsproximity to New Caledonia and Sydney; it is a good harbour, thoughsomewhat narrow. 

CHAPTER I

NOUMÉA AND PORT VILA

On April 26, 1910, I arrived at Nouméa by the large and very oldmail-steamer of the Messageries Maritimes, plying between Marseillesand Nouméa, which I had boarded at Sydney. 

Nouméa impresses one very unfavourably. A time of rapid development hasbeen followed by a period of stagnation, increased by the suppressionof the penitentiary, the principal source of income to the town. Thelatter has never grown to the size originally planned and laid out, andits desolate squares and decayed houses are a depressing sight. Two orthree steamers and a few sailing-vessels are all the craft the harbourcontains; a few customs officers and discharged convicts loaf on thepier, where some natives from the Loyalty Islands sleep or shout. 

Parallel streets lead from the harbour to the hills that fence thetown to the landward. Under roofs of corrugated sheet-iron run thesidewalks, along dark stores displaying unappetizing food, curios andcheap millinery. At each corner is a dismal sailors' bar, smelling ofabsinthe. Then we come to an empty, decayed square, where a crippled, noseless "Gallia" stands on a fountain; some half-drunk coachmenlounge dreaming on antediluvian cabs, and a few old convicts sprawlon benches. 

Along the hillside are the houses of the high officials and the betterclass of people. There is a club, where fat officials gather to playcards and drink absinthe and champagne; they go to the barber's, rollcigarettes, drink some more absinthe and go to bed early, after havingvisited a music-hall, in which monstrous dancing-girls from Sydneydisplay their charms and moving-picture shows present blood-curdlingdramas. Then there is the Governor's residence, the town hall, etc. , and the only event in this quiet city of officials is the arrival ofthe mail-steamer, when all the "beau-monde" gathers on the pier towelcome the few passengers, whether known or unknown. 

In Nouméa itself there is no industry, and the great export of mineralsdoes not touch the town. Once, Nouméa was meant to form a base ofnaval operations, and strongly fortified. But after a few yearsthis idea was abandoned, after having cost large sums, and now thefortifications are left to decay and the heavy, modern guns to rust. 

In spite of a prohibition, one may climb up to the forts, and berewarded by a beautiful view of the island, which does not impress oneas tropical. The rounded hills are covered with shrubs, and only in thevalleys are there a few trees; we are surprised by the strong colouringof the distant mountains, shining purple through the violet atmosphere. 

Seaward, we see the white line of the breakers, indicating the greatbarrier-reef which surrounds the isle with an almost impenetrable belt;a few channels only lead from the shore to the open ocean. 

On the 1st of May the Pacific arrived at Nouméa, and her departurefor Vila, next day, ended a most tiresome stay. 

It was a sad, rainy day when we left. Impatiently the passengers waitedtill the freight was loaded, --houses, iron, horses, cases of tins, etc. Of course we were six hours late, and all the whites were angry, while the few natives did not care, but found a dry corner, rolledthemselves up in their blankets and dozed. When we finally left, heavy squalls were rushing over the sea; in the darkness a fog cameon, so that we had soon to come to anchor. But next morning we hadpassed the Loyalty Islands and were rolling in the heavy swell thesouth-east trade raises on the endless surface of the Pacific. 

Next day, through the light mist of a summer morning, the formsof islands appeared, flat, bluish-grey lines, crowned with roundedhills. Slowly finer points appeared, the ridge of mountains showeddetails and we could recognize the tops of the giant banyan trees, towering above the forest as a cathedral does over the houses of acity. We saw the surf, breaking in the coral cliffs of flat shores, found the entrance to the wide bay, noticed the palms with elegantlycurved trunks bending over the beach, and unexpectedly entered thelagoon, that shone in the bright sun like a glittering sapphire. 

We had passed the flat cliffs, covered only with iron-wood trees, and now the water was bordered by high coral plateaux, from which aluxuriant forest fell down in heavy cascades, in a thickness almostalarming, like the eruption of a volcano, when one cloud pushesthe other before it and new ones are ever behind. It seemed as ifeach tree were trying to strangle the others in a fight for life, while the weakest, deprived of their ground, clung frantically tothe shore and would soon be pushed far out over the smooth, shiningsea. There the last dense crowns formed the beautiful fringe of thegreen carpet stretched soft and thick over the earth. 

Only here and there the shore was free, showing the coral strand asa line of white that separated the blue of the sea from the greenof the forest and intensified every colour in the landscape. It wasa vision of the most magnificent luxuriance, so different from theview which the barren shores of eastern New Caledonia offer. 

The bay became narrower and we approached the port proper. Smallislands appeared, between which we had glimpses of cool baysacross glassy, deep-green water, and before us lay a broken line oflight-coloured houses along the beach, while on the plateau behindwe could see the big court-house and some villas. 

A little distance off-shore we dropped anchor, and were soon surroundedby boats, from which the inhabitants came on board. A kind planterbrought me and my belongings ashore, and I took up my quarters inthe only hotel in Port Vila, the so-called "blood-house, " thus namedbecause of its history. 

Vila is merely the administration centre, and consists of nothing buta few stores and the houses of the Condominium officials. There islittle life, and only the arrival of the ships brings some excitement, so that the stranger feels bored and lonely, especially as the"blood-house " does not offer many comforts and the society there isnot of the choicest. 

I immediately went to present my letters of introduction to the FrenchResident. The offices of the British Residence were still on the smallisland of Iariki, which I could not reach without a boat. The FrenchResidence is a long, flat, unattractive building; the lawn around thehouse was fairly well kept, but perfectly bare, in accordance withthe French idea of salubrity, except for a few straggling bushes nearby. Fowls and horses promenaded about. But the view is one of the mostcharming to be found in the islands. Just opposite is the entrance tothe bay, and the two points frame the sea most effectively, numeroussmaller capes deepening the perspective. Along their silhouettesthe eye glides into far spaces, to dive beyond the horizon intoinfinity. Iariki is just in front, and we can see the well-kept parkaround the British Residence, with its mixture of art and wilderness;near by is the smooth sea shining in all colours. While the shoresare of a yellowish green, the sea is of every shade of blue, andthe green of the depths is saturated with that brilliant turquoisetint which is enough to put one into a light and happy humour. Thisbeing my first sight of a tropical landscape, my delight was great, and made up for any disappointment human inefficiency had occasioned. 

The French Resident, Mr. C, received me most kindly, and did me thehonour of inviting me to be his guest. I had planned to stay in Vilaa few weeks, so as to get acquainted with the country and hire boys;but the Resident seemed to think that I only intended a short visitto the islands, and he proposed to take me with him on a cruisethrough the archipelago and to deposit me at the Segond Channel, aninvitation I could not well refuse. My objection of having no servantswas overruled by the Resident's assurance that I could easily find somein Santo. I therefore made my preparations and got my luggage ready. 

In the afternoon, Mr. C. Lent me his boat to go and pay my respectsto Mr. Morton King, the British Resident. The difference between thetwo residences was striking, but it would be out of place to dwell onit here. It may be caused by the fact that the French Resident is, as a rule, recalled every six months, while the British Residenthad been at Vila for more than three years. Mr. King received memost cordially and also offered his hospitality, which, however, I was unable to accept. Later on Mr. King assisted and sheltered mein the most generous manner, so that I shall always remember his helpand friendship with sincere gratitude. 

I also had the honour of making the acquaintance of the British judgeand of most of the Condominium officials. 

It was a dull morning when we left Vila on board the French Governmentyacht. In days gone by she had been an elegant racing-boat, butwas now somewhat decayed and none too clean; however, she had beenequipped with a motor, so that we were independent of the wind. 

Besides the Resident and myself there were on board the French judge, the police commissioner, and a crew of boys from the Loyalty Islandsnear New Caledonia. These are excellent sailors and are employed inVila as French policemen. They are very strong and lively and greatfighters, and would be perfect material for a police force were theynot such confirmed drunkards. Because of this defect they all hadto be dismissed soon afterwards and sent back to their own country, as in Vila, instead of arresting drunken natives, they had generallybeen drunk themselves and were often fighting in the streets. Buton board ship, where they had no opportunity to get drunk, they werevery willing and always cheerful and ready for sport of any kind. 

We did not travel far that first day, but stopped after a few hours'sail in Port Havannah, north of the Bay of Mele. This port would be oneof the best harbours in the group, as it is almost entirely landlocked;only, the water is so deep that small craft cannot anchor. Yet itwould be preferable to Port Vila, as the climate is much better, Vilabeing one of the hottest, stuffiest and rainiest spots in the group, and its harbour is becoming too small for the increased traffic ofthe last few years. Port Vila only became the capital of the islandswhen the English influence grew stronger, while all the land roundPort Havannah belonged to a French company. 

We spent the afternoon on shore shooting pigeons. Besides a few ducks, flying-foxes and wild pigs, pigeons are the only game in the islands;but this pigeon-shooting is a peculiar sport and requires a specialenthusiasm to afford pleasure for any length of time. The birds areextremely shy and generally sit on the tops of the highest treeswhere a European can hardly discover them. The natives, however, are very clever in detecting them, but when they try to show you thepigeon it generally flies off and is lost; and if you shoot it, it ishard to find, even for a native. The natives themselves are capableof approaching the birds noiselessly and unseen, because of theircolour, so as to shoot them from a short distance. My pigeon-shootingusually consisted in waiting for several hours in the forest, withvery unsatisfactory results, so that I soon gave it up. 

We were all unsuccessful on this particular day, but it ended mostgaily with a dance at the house of a French planter. 

We slept on board, rocked softly by the ship, against which the wavesplashed in cosy whispering. The sky was bright with stars, but belowdecks it was dark and stuffy. Now and then a big fish jumped out of theblack sea, otherwise it was quiet, dull and gloomy as a dismal dream. 

Next day we rose early and went shooting again. Probably because wehad been given the best wishes of an old French lady the result was asunsatisfactory as the evening before. We then resumed our journey insplendid weather, with a stiff breeze, and flying through blue spaceson the bright waves, we rapidly passed several small islands, sighted"Monument Rock, " a lonely cliff that rises abruptly out of the seato a height of 130 m. , and arrived late in the afternoon at Maei, our destination. 

CHAPTER II

MAEI, TONGOA, EPI AND MALEKULA

Maei is a small island whose natives have nearly all disappeared, asis the case on most of its neighbours. There is one small plantation, with the agent of which the Resident had business. After we had passedthe narrow inlet through the reef, we landed, to find the agent in apeculiar, half-mad condition. He pretended to suffer from fever, butit was evident that alcohol had a good deal to do with it, too. Theman made strange faces, could hardly talk and was quite unable towrite; he said the fever had deprived him of the power of using hisfingers. He was asked to dinner on board, and as he could not speakFrench nor the Resident English, negotiations were carried on in bichela mar, a language in which it is impossible to talk about anythingbut the simplest matters of everyday life. Things got still worse whenthe agent became more and more intoxicated, in spite of the smallquantities of liquor we allowed him. I had to act as interpreter, amost ungrateful task, as the planter soon began to insult the Resident, and I had to translate his remarks and the Resident's answers. At last, funny as the whole affair was in a way, it became very tiresome;happily, matters came to a sudden close by the planter's fallingunder the table. He was then taken ashore by his native wife and thepolice-boys, who enjoyed this duty immensely. We smoked a quiet pipe, looked after the fish-hooks--empty, of course--and slept on deck inthe cool night air. Next morning the planter came aboard somewhatsobered and more tractable. He brought with him his wife, and theirchild whom he wished to adopt. As the native women do not as a rulestay with their masters very long, the children are registered underthe formula: "Child of N. N. , mother unknown, " an expression whichsounds somewhat queer to those who do not know the reason for it. 

After having finished this business, we weighed anchor and set sailfor Tongoa. This is one of the few islands whose native populationdoes not decrease. The Presbyterian missionary there gives the entirecredit for this pleasant fact to his exertions, as the natives areall converted. But as in other completely Christianized districtsthe natives die out rapidly, it is doubtful whether Christianityalone has had this beneficial effect, and we must seek other causes, though they are hard to find. 

After a clear night we sailed along the coast of Epi. The brightweather had changed to a dull, rainy day, and the aspect of thelandscape was entirely altered. The smiling islands had become sober, lonely, even threatening. When the charm of a country consists soentirely in its colouring, any modification of the atmosphere andlight cause such a change in its character that the same view may lookeither like Paradise or entirely dull and inhospitable. What had beenthus far a pleasure trip, a holiday excursion, turned suddenly intoa business journey, and this change in our mood was increased by aslight illness which had attacked the Resident, making the jovialgentleman morose and irritable. 

The stay in Epi was rather uninteresting. Owing to the dense Frenchcolonization there the natives have nearly all disappeared or becomequite degenerate. We spent our time in visits to the different Frenchplanters and then sailed for Malekula, anchoring in Port Sandwich. 

Port Sandwich is a long, narrow bay in the south of Malekula, andafter Port Vila the most frequented harbour of the group, as it isvery centrally located and absolutely safe. Many a vessel has foundprotection there from storm or cyclone. The entrance to the bay isnarrow, and at the anchorage we were so completely landlocked thatwe might have imagined ourselves on an inland lake, so quiet is thewater, surrounded on all sides by the dark green forest which fallsin heavy waves down from the hills to the silent, gloomy sea. 

Immediately after our arrival my companions went pigeon-shooting asusual; but I soon preferred to join the son of the French planterat Port Sandwich in a visit to the neighbouring native village. Thiswas my first sight of the real, genuine aborigines. 

No one with any taste for nature will fail to feel the solemnityof the moment when he stands face to face for the first time withprimitive man. As the traveller enters the depths of the virginforest for the first time with sacred awe, he feels that he standsbefore a still higher revelation of nature when the first dark, nakedman suddenly appears. Silently he has crept through the thicket, hasparted the branches, and confronts us unexpectedly on a narrow path, shy and silent, while we are struck with surprise. His figure is butslightly relieved against the green of the bushes; he seems part ofthe silent, luxuriant world around him, a being strange to us, a partof those realms which we are used to imagine as void of feeling andincapable of thought. But a word breaks the spell, intelligence gleamsin his face, and what, so far, has seemed a strange being, belongingrather to the lower animals than to human-kind, shows himself a man, and becomes equal to ourselves. Thus the endless, inhospitable jungle, without open spaces or streets, without prairies and sun, that densetangle of lianas and tree-trunks, shelters men like ourselves. Itseems marvellous to think that in those depths, dull, dark and silentas the fathomless ocean, men can live, and we can hardly blame formergenerations for denying all kinship with these savages and countingthem as animals; especially as the native never seems more primitivethan when he is roaming the forest, naked but for a bark belt, with abig curly wig and waving plumes, bow and arrow his only weapons. Whenalarmed, he hides in the foliage, and once swallowed up in the greendepths which are his home and his protection, neither eye nor earcan find any trace of him. 

But our ideas change when we enter his village home, with itsdancing-grounds with the big drums, the sacred stone tables, idols andcarved tree-trunks, all in a frame of violently coloured bushes--red, purple, brown and orange. Above us, across a blue sky, a tree withscarlet flowers blows in the breeze, and long stamens fall slowly downand cover the ground with a brilliant carpet. Dogs bark, roosterscrow and from a hut a man creeps out--others emerge from the bushand from half-hidden houses which at first we had not noticed. Atsome distance stand the women and children in timid amazement, andthen begins a chattering, or maybe a whispered consultation aboutthe arrival of the stranger. We are in the midst of human life, ina busy little town, where the sun pours through the gaps in the darkforest, and flowers give colour and brightness, and where, after all, life is not so very much less human than in civilization. 

Then the forest has lifted its veil, we have entered the sanctuary, and the alarming sensation of nature's hostility is softened. We whitemen like to talk about our mastery over nature, but is it not rathertrue that we flee from nature, as its most intense manifestations areoppressive to us? Is not the savage, living so very close to nature, more its master, or at least its friend, than we are? We need spaceand the sight of sun and sky to feel happy; the night of the forest, the loneliness of the ocean are terrible to us, whilst to the nativethey are his home and his element. 

It is evident that under our first strong impression of the native'slife we overlook much--the filth, the sores, the brutality of sociallife; but these are really only ripples on an otherwise smoothexistence, defects which are not less present in our civilization, but are better concealed. 

The next day we followed the coast of Malekula southward. There areimmense coral reefs attached to the coast, so that often the line ofbreakers is one or two miles away from the shore. These reefs are asolid mass of cleft coral stones constantly growing seaward. Theirsurface is more or less flat, about on a level with the water at lowtide, so that it then lies nearly dry, and one can walk on the reefs, jumping over the wide crevices in which the sea roars and gurgleswith the rise and fall of the breakers outside. These ever-growingreefs would surround the whole coast were it not for the fresh waterthat oozes out from the land and prevents the coral from growing atcertain points, thus keeping open narrow passages through the reef, or wider stretches along the coast free from rocks. These basins formgood anchorages for small craft, as the swell of the open sea cannotcross the reef; only the entrances are often crooked and hard to find. 

Our captain brought us safely into a quiet lagoon, where the yachtlay in deep green water, smooth as glass, while beyond the reef thebreakers dashed a silver line across the blue ocean. 

Of course we immediately went shooting on the reef. I did not havemuch sport, as I could see nothing worth shooting, but I was muchinterested in wading in the warm water to observe the multiform animallife of the reef. There was the "bêche-de-mer, " the sea-cucumber, yellow or purplish-black, a shapeless mass lying in pools; this isa delicacy highly valued by the Chinese and therefore a frequentarticle of exportation. The animals are collected, cut open, driedand shipped. There was the ugly muræna, which goes splashing andwinding like a snake between boulders, and threatens the intruderwith poisonous looks and snapping jaws. Innumerable bright-colouredfish shot hither and thither in the flat pools, there were worms, sea-stars, octopus, crabs. The wealth of animal life on the reef, where each footstep stirs up a hundred creatures, is incredible, and ever so many more are hidden in the rocks and crevices. 

The plants that had taken root in the coral were mostly mangrovebushes with great forked roots. 

CHAPTER III

THE SEGOND CHANNEL--LIFE ON A PLANTATION

When the tide rose, we returned to the yacht and continued our cruisenorthward, passed the small islands of Rano, Atchin, Vao and others, crossed the treacherous Bougainville Strait between Malekula andSanto, and came to anchor in the Canal du Segond formed by Santo andMalo. This channel is about eight miles long and three-quarters ofa mile wide at its narrowest point. On its shores, which belong to aFrench company, is a colony of about a hundred and fifty Frenchmen. TheSegond Channel would be a good harbour but for very strong currentscaused by the tides, which are unfavourable to small boats; itslocation, too, is not very central. The shores are flat, but riseabruptly at some points to a height of 150 m. There are level landsat the mouth of the Sarrakatta River and on the tablelands. 

The Sarrakatta is one of the sights of the New Hebrides, and a pull upthe narrow stream affords one of the most impressive views to be hadof tropical vegetation. The river cuts straight through the forest, so that the boat moves between two high walls of leafy green. Silentlyglides the stream, silently broods the forest, only the boat swishessoftly, and sometimes a frightened fish splashes up. Every bend weround shows us new and surprisingly charming views: now we pass agiant tree, which towers up king-like on its iron-hard trunk farabove the rest of the forest, trunk and limbs covered with a finelacework of tender-leaved lianas; now we sweep along a high bank, under a bower of overhanging branches. The water caresses the tipsof the twigs, and through the leaves the sun pours golden into thecool darkness. Again we glide into the light, and tangled shrubberyseams the river bank, from which long green strands of vines traildown and curl in the water like snakes. Knobby roots rise out ofthe ground; they have caught floating trunks, across which thewater pours, lifting and dropping the wet grasses that grow onthe rotten stems. Farther up the bushes are entirely covered withvines and creepers, whose large, thick leaves form a scaly coat ofmail under which the half-strangled trees seem to fight in vain forair and freedom. In shallow places stiff bamboos sprout, their longyellow leaves trembling nervously in an imperceptible breeze; againwe see trees hung with creepers as if wearing torn flags; and oncein a while we catch sight of that most charming of tropical trees, the tree-fern, with its lovely star-shaped crown, like a beautiful, dainty work of art in the midst of the uncultivated wilderness. Asif in a dream we row back down stream, and like dream-pictures allthe various green shapes of the forest sweep by and disappear. 

The Resident introduced me to the French planters, Mr. And Mrs. Ch. , and asked them to take me in, which they agreed to do. Having rentedan old plantation from the French company, they had had the goodfortune to find a regular frame house ready for them. 

After I had moved into my quarters the Resident returned to Vila, and I remained on the borders of the wilderness. What followed nowwas a most unsatisfactory time of waiting, the first of many similarperiods. Having no servants, I could undertake nothing independently, and since the planters were all suffering from lack of hands, I couldnot hire any boys. As the natives around the French plantations atthe Canal du Segond are practically exterminated, I saw hardly any;but at least I got a good insight into the life on a plantation, such as it was. 

With his land, Mr. Ch. Had rented about thirty boys, with whom hewas trying to work the completely decayed plantation. Many acres werecovered with coffee trees, but owing to the miserable management ofthe French company, the planters had changed continually and the systemof planting just as often. Every manager had abandoned the work of hispredecessor and begun planting anew on a different system, so that nowthere was an immense tract of land planted which had never yet yieldeda crop. In a short time such intended plantations are overgrown withbush and reconquered by the wilderness; thus thousands of coffee treeswere covered with vines and struggled in vain for light and air. Itseem incredible that in two weeks, on cleared ground, grass can growup as tall as a man, and that after six months a cleared plantationcan be covered with bushes and shrubs with stems as thick as one'sfinger. The planter, knowing that this overwhelming fertility andthe jealous advances of the forest are his most formidable enemies, directs his most strenuous efforts to keeping clear his plantation, especially while the plants are young and unable to fight down theweeds. Later on, weeding is less urgent, but in the beginning it is theone essential duty, more so than planting. Mr. Ch. Had therefore anenormous task before him, and as he could not expect any return fromthe coffee trees for two or three years, he did as all planters do, and sowed corn, which yields a crop after three months. 

His labourers, dark, curly-haired men, clad in rags, were justthen occupied in gathering the big ears of corn. Sluggishly theythrew the golden ears over their shoulders to the ground, where itwas collected by the women and carried to the shed on the beach--along roof of leaves, without walls. Mr. Ch. Urged the men to hurry, as the corn had to be ready for shipment in a few days, the Pacific, the French mail-steamer, being due. Produce deteriorates rapidly inthe islands owing to the humid climate, so it cannot be stored long, especially where there is no dry storehouse. Therefore, crops canonly be gathered just before the arrival of a steamer, making theselast days very busy ones everywhere. It is fortunate for the plantersthat the native labourers are not yet organized and do not insist onan eight-hour day. As it was, Mr. Ch. Had to leave more than half hiscrop to rot in the fields, a heavy rain having delayed the harvesting. 

The humidity at the Segond Channel is exceptionally great. As westood on the fine coral sand that forms the shores of the channel, our clothes were damp with the rain from the weeds and shrubs whichwe had passed through while stumbling through the plantation. Thesteel-grey sea quivers, sleepy and pulpy looking; in front of us, in a grey mist, lies the flat island of Aore, the air smells mouldy, and brown rainclouds roll over the wall of primeval forest surroundingthe clearing on three sides. The atmosphere is heavy, and a finespray floats in the air and covers everything with moisture. Knivesrust in one's pocket, matches refuse to light, tobacco is like asponge and paper like a rag. It had been like this for three months;no wonder malarial fever raged among the white population. Mr. Ch. , after only one year's sojourn here, looked like a very sick man;he was frightfully thin and pale and very nervous; so was his wife, a delicate lady of good French family. She did the hard work of aplanter's wife with admirable courage, and, while she had never takenan active part in housekeeping in France, here she was standing allday long behind a smoky kitchen fire, cooking or washing dishes, assisted only by a very incapable and unsophisticated native woman. 

On our return to the house, which lies about 200 mètres inland, wefound this black lady occupied with the extremely hard and puzzlingtask of laying the table. It seemed to give her the greatest trouble, and the deep distrust with which she handled the plates found eloquentexpression in queer sighs and mysterious exclamations in her nativetongue, in resigned shakes of the head and emphatic smacking of thelips. She was a crooked bush-woman from the north of Malekula, wherethe people, especially the women, are unusually ugly and savage. Alow forehead, small, deep-set eyes, and a snout-like mouth gaveher a very animal look; yet she showed human feeling, and nurseda shrieking and howling orphan all day long with the most tendercare. Her little head was shaved and two upper teeth broken out asa sign of matrimony, so she certainly was no beauty; but the sightof her clumsy working was a constant source of amusement to us men, very much less so to her mistress, to whom nothing but her sincerezeal and desire to help could make up for her utter inefficiency. 

It cannot be denied that the women from those islands, where theirsocial standing is especially low, are not half so intelligent andteachable as those from places where they are more nearly equal tothe men; probably because they are subdued and kept in degradationfrom early youth, and not allowed any initiative or opinions of theirown. But physically these women are very efficient and quite equalto the men in field work, or even superior, being more industrious. 

The feat of setting the table was accomplished in about an hour, andwe sat down to our simple meal--tinned meat, yams and bananas. Thenthe foreman came in. Only a short time ago he was one of the finestwarriors in the interior of Malekula, where cannibalism is still aneveryday occurrence. He, too, wears his hair short, only, accordingto the present fashion, he lets the hair on his forehead grow ina roll-shaped bow across the head. He is well built, though rathershort, and behaves with natural politeness. His voice is soft, hislook gentle and in the doorway his dark figure shines in the lamplightlike a bronze statue. 

Mr. Ch. Tells him that the boys will have to work all night, atthe same time promising an encouragement in the shape of a glassof wine to each. The natives' craving for alcohol is often abused byunscrupulous whites. Although the sale of liquor to natives is strictlyforbidden by the laws of the Condominium, the French authorities donot even seem to try to enforce this regulation, in fact, they ratherimpressed me as favouring the sale, thus protecting the interests ofa degraded class of whites, to the detriment of a valuable race. Asa consequence, there are not a few Frenchmen who make their living byselling spirits to natives, which may be called, without exaggeration, a murderous and criminal traffic. 

Others profit indirectly by the alcoholism of the islanders by sellingliquor to their hands every Saturday, so as to make them run intodebt; they will all spend their entire wages on drink. If, theirterm of engagement being over, they want to return to their homes, they are told that they are still deep in debt to their master, andthat they will have to pay off by working for some time longer. Thepoor fellows stay on and on, continue to drink, are never out of debt, and never see their homes again. This practice has developed of lateyears in consequence of the scarcity of labour, and is nothing butslavery. It might easily be abolished by a slight effort on the partof the Government, but there is hardly any supervision over Frenchplantations outside Port Vila, and in many plantations conditions existwhich are an insult to our modern views on humane treatment. On Englishplantations there is but little brutality, owing to the Government'scareful supervision of the planters and the higher social and moralstanding of the settlers in general. 

My host had some European conscience left, and treated his handsvery humanely, but I dare say that in course of time, and pressedby adverse circumstances, even he resorted to means of finding cheaplabour which were none too fair. The French by-laws permit the deliveryof alcohol to natives in the shape of "medicine, " a stipulation whichopens the door to every abuse. 

The boys were soon on hand, each awaiting his turn eagerly, yet tryingto seem blasé. Some drank greedily, others tasted the sour wine inlittle sips like old experts; but all took care to turn their backsto us while drinking, as if from bashfulness. Then they went to work, giggling and happy. 

Meanwhile, those on the sick-list were coming up for the planter'sinspection. The diseases are mostly tuberculosis, colds, indigestion, fever and infections, and it is evident that if they receive anymedical treatment at all, it is of a primitive and insufficientdescription. The planters work with fearfully strong plasters, patentmedicines and "universal remedies, " used internally and externallyby turns, so that the patient howls and the spectator shudders, andthe results would be most disheartening if kind Nature did not oftendo the healing in spite of man's efforts to prevent it. Naturally, every planter thinks himself an expert doctor, and is perfectlysatisfied with his results. 

Mr. Ch. Was ill with fever, nevertheless we went down to thework-shed. It was a pitch-dark night, the air was like that in ahothouse, smelling of earth and mould. The surf boomed sullenly on thebeach, and heavy squalls flogged the forest. Sometimes a rotten branchsnapped, and the sound travelled, dull and heavy, through the night. 

From far away we hear the noise of the engine peeling thecorn-ears. Two of the natives turn the fly-wheels, and the engine givesthem immense pleasure, all the more, the faster it runs. The partnersare selected with care, and it is a matter of pride to turn wheelsas long and as fast as possible; they encourage each other with wildshrieks and cries. It seemed as if the work had turned to a festival, as if it were a sort of dance, and the couples waited impatientlyfor their turn to drive the engine. The delight of the boys in thenoise of the machinery was very favourable to the progress of thework, and at midnight a long row of full sacks stood in the shed. Westopped the work and told the boys to go to sleep. But the demon ofdancing had taken hold of them, and they kept it up all night, andthen went straight to work in the fields when the sun rose. By thethird evening everything was ready for the arrival of the Pacific, and the boys were deadly tired and lame. 

We were just sitting down to dinner one dull, heavy night, when weheard a steamer's long, rough whistle. The Pacific. Everyone jumps upin excitement, for the Pacific brings a taste of civilization, and herarrival marks the end of a busy week and breaks the monotony of dailylife. We run to the shore and light strong lamps at fixed points, to indicate the anchorage, and then we rush back to finish dinnerand put on clean clothes. Meanwhile, the boys have been roused, andthey arrive, sleepy, stiff and unwilling, aware that a hard night'swork is before them, loading the produce into the tenders. 

The steamer approaches quickly, enormous and gay in the darkness, then she slowly feels her way into the harbour, the anchor falls, andafter a few oscillations the long line of brightly lit portholes liesquiet on the water, only their reflection flickers irregularly on thewaves through the night. In all directions we can see the lights of theapproaching boats of the planters, who come to announce their shipmentsand to spend a gay evening on board. There are always some passengerson the steamer, planters from other islands on their way to Vila orSydney, and soon carousing is in full swing, until the bar closes. 

All next day the steamer stays in the channel, taking on produce fromevery plantation, and for two days afterward merrymaking is kept up, then the quiet monotony of a tropical planter's life sets in once more. 

Sometimes a diversion is caused by a boy rushing up to the house toannounce that some "men-bush" are approaching. Going to the veranda, we see some lean figures with big mops of hair coming slowly down thenarrow path from the forest, with soft, light steps. Some distancebehind follows a crowd of others, who squat down near the last shrubsand examine everything with shy, suspicious eyes, while the leadersapproach the house. Nearly all carry old Snider rifles, always loadedand cocked. The leaders stand silent for a while near the veranda, then one of them whispers a few words in broken "biche la mar, "describing what he wants to buy--knives, cartridges, powder, tobacco, pipes, matches, calico, beads. "All right, " says Mr. Ch. , and some ofthe men bring up primitive baskets of cocoa-nut leaves, filled withcoprah or bunches of raw cocoa-nuts. All of them, especially the women, have carried great loads of these things from their villages in theinterior on the poorest paths, marching for days. 

The baskets are weighed and the desired goods handed to thehead-man. Here the whites make a profit of 200-300 per cent. , while onthe other islands, where there is more competition, they have to besatisfied with 30 per cent. Each piece is carefully examined by thenatives: the pipes, to see if they draw, the matches, whether theystrike, etc. , while the crowd behind follows every movement with thegreatest attention and mysterious whispers, constantly on the watchfor any menace to safety. The lengthy bargaining over, the delegationturns away and the whole crowd disappears. In the nearest thicket theysit down and distribute the goods--perhaps a dozen boxes of matches, a few belts, or some yards of calico, two pounds of tobacco, and twentypipes, a poor return, indeed, for their long journey. Possibly theywill spend the night in the neighbourhood, under an overhanging rock, on the bare stone, all crowded round a fire for fear of the spiritsof the night. 

Sometimes, having worked for another planter, they have a littlemoney. Although every planter keeps his own store, the natives, asa rule, prefer to buy from his neighbour, from vague if not quiteunjustified suspicion. They rarely engage for any length of time, except when driven by the desire to buy some valuable object, generallya rifle, without which no native likes to be seen in Santo to-day. Inthat case several men work together for one, who afterwards indemnifiesthem for their help in native fashion by giving them pigs or renderingthem other services. On the plantations they are suspicious and lazy, but quite harmless as long as they are not provoked. Mr. Ch. Had hadabout thirty men working on his plantation for quite some time, andeverything had gone well, until one day one of them had fallen intothe Sarrakatta and been drowned. According to native law, Mr. Ch. Wasresponsible for his death, and should have paid for him, which heomitted to do. At first there was general dismay, no one dared approachthe river any more; then the natives all returned to their villages, and a few days later they swarmed round the plantation with riflesto avenge their dead relative by murdering Mr. Ch. He was warned byhis boys, who were from Malekula for the most part, and this savedhis life. He armed his men, and after a siege of several weeks thebushmen gave up the watch and retired. But no one would return towork for him any more. 

Altogether, the bushmen of Santo are none too reliable, and only thememory of a successful landing expedition of the English man-of-wara year ago keeps them quiet. On that occasion they had murdered anold Englishman and two of his daughters, just out of greed, so as topillage his store. They had not found much, but they had to pay forthe murder with the loss of their village, pigs and lives. 

I tried to find boys at the south-west corner of Santo, where thenatives frequently descend to the shore. A neighbour of Mr. Ch. , ayoung Frenchman, was going there in a small cutter to buy wood fordyeing mats to sell to the natives of Malekula, and he kindly tookme with him. We sailed through the channel one rainy morning, butthe wind died down and we had to anchor, as the current threatenedto take us back. We profited by the stop to pay a visit to a Mr. R. , who cultivated anarchistic principles, also a plantation which seemedin perfect condition and in direct opposition to his anti-capitalisticideas. Mr. R. Was one of those French colonists who, sprung from thepoorest peasant stock, have no ambitions beyond finding a new andkindlier home. Economical, thrifty, used to hard work in the fields, Mr. R. Had begun very modestly, but had prospered, and was now, while still a young man, the owner of a plantation that would makehim rich in a few years. This good, solid peasant stock, of whichFrance possesses so much, makes the best colonists, and as a rulethey succeed far better than those who come to the tropics with theidea of making a fortune in a few years without working for it. Thesefall into the hands of the big Nouméa companies, and have the greatesttrouble in getting out of debt. Not only do these firms lend moneyat exorbitant interest, but they stipulate that the planter will sellthem all his produce and buy whatever he needs from them, and as theyfix prices as they please, their returns are said to reach 30 per cent. 

Besides these two kinds of French settlers, there is a third, whichcomes from the penitentiary in Nouméa or its neighbourhood. We shallmeet specimens of these in the following pages. 

After having duly admired the plantation of Mr. R. --he proved himselfa real peasant, knew every plant by name, and was constantly stoppingto pick a dead leaf or prune a shoot--we continued our journey andarrived at Tangoa. Tangoa is a small island, on which the Presbyterianmission has established a central school for the more intelligentof the natives of the whole group, where they may be trained asteachers. The exterior of this school looks most comfortable. Onehalf of the island is cleared and covered with a green lawn, onepart is pasture for good-looking cattle, the other is a park in whichnestle the cottages of the teachers, --the whole looks like an Englishcountry-seat. At some distance is a neatly built, well-kept villagefor the native pupils. I presented an introduction to the director. Heseemed to think my endeavours extremely funny, asked if I was lookingfor the missing link, etc. , so that I took a speedy leave. 

We spent a few lazy days on board the little cutter; the natives wouldnot come down from their villages, in spite of frequent explosions ofdynamite cartridges, the usual signal of recruiters to announce theirarrival to the natives. It rained a good deal, and there was not muchto do but to loaf on the beach. Here, one day, I saw an interestingmethod of fishing by poisoning the water, which is practised in manyplaces. At low tide the natives rub a certain fruit on the stones ofthe reef, the juice mixes with the water in the pools and poisonsthe fish, so that after a short while they float senseless on thesurface and may easily be caught. 

After a few days I was anxious to return to the Segond Channel, as I expected the arrival of the English steamer, which I wanted tomeet. I could not find any guide, and the cutter was to stay for somedays longer, so I decided to go alone; the distance was only about15 km. , and I thought that with the aid of my compass I would findmy way along the trail which was said to exist. 

I started in the morning with a few provisions and a dull bush-knife, at first along a fairly good path, which, however, soon dividedinto several tracks. I followed the one which seemed most likely tolead to my destination, but arrived at a deep lagoon, around whichI had to make a long detour. Here the path came to a sudden stop infront of an impenetrable thicket of lianas which I could hardly cutwith my knife. I climbed across fallen trunks, crawled along theground beneath the creepers, struck an open spot once in a while, passed swamps and rocks, --in short, in a very little time I made anintimate acquaintance with the renowned Santo bush. Yet I imaginedI was advancing nicely, so much so that I began to fear I had gonebeyond my destination. About four o'clock in the afternoon I strucka small river and followed its crooked course to the coast, so as toget my bearings. Great was my disappointment on finding myself onlyabout 1 1/2 km. From the lagoon which I had left in the morning. Thiswas a poor reward for eight hours' hard work. I was ashamed to returnto the cutter, and followed the shore, not wishing to repeat thatmorning's experience in the forest. The walk along the beach was notagreeable at all, as it consisted of those corroded coral rocks, full of sharp points and edges, and shaped like melted tin pouredinto water. These rocks were very jagged, full of crevices, in whichthe swell thundered and foamed, and over which I had to jump. Once Ifell in, cut my legs and hands most cruelly and had only my luck tothank that I did not break any bones, and got safely out of the damp, dark prison. But at least I could see where I was, and that I wasgetting on, and I preferred this to the uncertain struggle in theforest. In some places the coast rose to a high bank, round whichI could not walk. I had to climb up on one side as best I couldand descend on the other with the help of trees and vines. Thus, fighting my way along, I was overtaken by the sudden tropical night, and I had to stop where I was for fear of falling into some hole. Afall would have been a real calamity, as nobody would ever have foundme or even looked for me on that lonely coast. I therefore sat downwhere I was, on the corals where they seemed least pointed. I did notsucceed at all in making a fire; the night was quite dark and moonless, and a fine rain penetrated everything. I have rarely passed a longernight or felt so lonely. The new day revived my spirits, breakfastdid not detain me long, as I had nothing to eat, so I kept along theshore, jumping and climbing, and had to swim through several lagoons, swarming, as I heard afterwards, with big sharks! After a while thecoral shore changed into a sand beach, and after having waded for somehours more in the warm water with the little rags that were left of myboots, I arrived dead tired at the plantation of Mr. R. He was away, so I went to his neighbour's, who was at dinner and kindly asked meto join him. Although it was only a flying-fox, I enjoyed it as aman enjoys a meal after a twenty-four hours' fast. 

The men were just starting for Mr. Ch. 's, and took me with them. Myadventure had taught me the impassableness of the forest, and afterthat experience I was never again tempted to make excursions withouta guide. 

CHAPTER IV

RECRUITING FOR NATIVES

A few days later the English steamer came, bringing my luggage butno hope of improvement in my dull existence. A French survey partyarrived too, and set to work, but as they had not enough boys withthem, I could not join them. I spent my days as well as I could, collected a few zoological specimens, and read Mr. Ch. 's large stockof French novels until I felt quite silly. 

At last an occasion offered to see primitive natives. George, theson of a neighbour, had agreed to go recruiting for Mr. Ch. As Ihave said before, providing sufficient labour is one of the mostimportant problems to the planter in the New Hebrides. Formerly therewere professional recruiters who went slave-hunting as they would havefollowed any other occupation, and sold the natives to the planters ata fair profit. In their schooners they hung about the shore, filledthe natives with liquor and kidnapped them, or simply drove them onboard wholesale, with the help of armed Loyalty boys. Their methodswere as various as they were cruel, murder was a daily occurrence, and, of course, the recruiters were hated by the natives, who attacked andkilled them whenever they got a chance. The better class of planterswould not countenance this mode of procedure, and the natives arenow experienced enough not to enlist for work under a master theydo not know. Also the English Government keeps a strict watch onthe recruiting, so that the professional recruiter is dying out, and every planter has to go in search of hands for himself. Butwhile the English Government keeps a sharp eye on these matters, the French Government is as lenient in this as in the question ofthe sale of alcohol, so that frequent kidnapping and many crueltiesoccur in the northern part of the group, and slavery still exists. Ishall relate a few recruiting stories later on: some general remarkson the subject may not be amiss here. 

In years past the natives crowded the recruiting schooners by hundreds, driven by the greed for European luxuries, by desire for change, and inexperience; to-day this is the case in but very few and savagedistricts. Generally the natives have some idea of what they mayexpect; moreover, by trading with coprah they can buy all they needand want. They enlist nowadays from quite different motives. Withyoung people it is the desire to travel and to "see the world, "and to escape the strict village laws that govern them, especiallyin sexual matters, and to get rid of the supervision of the wholetribe. Sometimes, but only in islands poor in cocoa-nut trees, it isthe desire to earn money to buy a woman, a very expensive article atpresent. Then many seek refuge in the plantations from persecution ofall sorts, from revenge, or punishment for some misdeed at home. Someare lovers who have run away from their tribe to escape the rage of aninjured husband. Thus recruiting directly favours the general anarchyand immorality, and indirectly as well, since the recruiters do theirbest to create as much trouble as possible in the villages, knowingit will be to their advantage. If they hear of a feud raging betweentwo tribes, they collect at the shore and try to pick up fugitives;if there is no war, they do their best to occasion one, by intrigue, alcohol, or agents provocateurs. They intoxicate men and women, and make them enlist in that condition; young men are shown prettywomen, and promised all the joys of Paradise in the plantations. Ifthese tricks fail, the recruiters simply kidnap men and women whilebathing. This may suffice to show that, as a rule, they do not usefair means to find hands, and it is hardly surprising that wherethey have been they leave behind them wrecked families, unhappiness, enmity, murder and a deep hatred of the white man in general as thecause of all this misery. This recruiting is not only immoral in thehighest degree, but also very harmful to the race, and it is to-dayone of the principal reasons for its decay. 

Those planters who from principle or from fear of the law do notresort to such means generally have a special recruiting district, where they are well known, and where the natives know the treatmentthey are likely to get on the plantation, and feel sure they will notbe cheated, and will be taken back to their homes in due time. Theseplanters, I am happy to say, find hands enough, as a rule, while thenatives take care not to go to a French plantation if they can helpit. The system of recruiting is very simple. The cutter anchors at somedistance offshore, and a dynamite cartridge is exploded to announceher arrival; some time afterwards one of the whale-boats goes ashore, all the crew armed to the teeth, while the other boat lies a shortdistance off, to watch the natives, and to cover the retreat of thosein the first boat in case of attack. The planter, as a rule, stayson board his cutter. These warlike practices are really unnecessaryin many places, but as one never knows what indiscretions the lastrecruiter may have committed, and as the natives consider all whitesas belonging to one organization, it is the part of prudence to followthis old recruiting rule. 

I will not pretend to say that the natives will never attackwithout provocation. Even Cook, who certainly was both carefuland just, was treacherously attacked in Erromanga, for theMelanesian is bloodthirsty, especially when he thinks himself thestronger. But to-day it may be stated as a certainty that no attackon a recruiting-ship or on any white man occurs without some pastbrutality on the part of a European to account for it. As one of theGovernments does nothing to abolish kidnapping, and as the plantationsgo to ruin for want of labour, it would be to the interest both of thesettlers and of the natives to abolish the present recruiting systementirely, and to introduce a conscription for work in its place, sothat each male would have to work for a term of years on a plantationfor adequate wages and good treatment. This would be of advantage tothe islanders even more than to the planters. It would create order, and would employ the natives in useful work for the development oftheir own country. 

It will appear from all this that recruiting is still a somewhatdangerous undertaking, especially on the north-west coast of Malekula, the home of the most primitive and savage tribes of all the group. 

George, our captain, was a strange fellow, about seventeen years ofage: he might just as well have been forty. Pale, with small grey eyesand a suspicious look, a long hooked nose, and narrow, yet hanginglips, he walked with bent back and crooked knees, always bare-footed, in blue dungaree trousers, green shirt and an old weather-beatenhat. He hardly ever spoke; when he did, it was very suddenly, veryfast and very low, so that no one could understand him except hisboys, who evidently knew instinctively what he meant. The nativesare very clever in these matters. He was brave, an excellent sailorfor his age, and he knew the channels and all the anchorages. Hisboat may have been 6 or 7 mètres long and 3 mètres wide; she wascutter-rigged, and was probably very suitable for a trip of a fewdays, but quite insufficient for a cruise of several weeks, such aswe were planning. The deck was full of cases of provisions, so thatonly a little space was clear for us at the stern. The cabin wasabout 2 mètres long, 1 1/2 mètre wide, and 1 1/2 mètre high, andwas crammed with stuff--tinned meats, cloths, guns, trading goods, etc. One person could wriggle in it, crawling on hands and knees, but two had to wind round each other in impossible positions, andit was quite unthinkable that both should spend the night below. Butwith the happy carelessness and impatience of a long-delayed start, we did not think of the hardships of the future, and in fair weather, when the stay on deck in the brisk breeze was extremely pleasant, as on that first morning, existence on board seemed very bearable;but when it rained, and it rained very often and very hard, it wasexceptionally disagreeable. 

Mr. George took no interest in such details. Although he could haveimproved matters without much trouble, he was too lazy to take thetrouble. The sun- and rain-sail was fixed so low that one could notstand upright, and anyone who has experienced this for some timeknows how irritating it is. For food George did not seem to care atall. Not only did he lack the sense of taste, but he seemed to havean unhuman stomach, for he ate everything, at any time, and in anycondition; raw or cooked, digestible or not, he swallowed it silentlyand greedily, and thought it quite unnecessary when I wanted the boysto cook some rice for me, or to wash a plate. The tea was generallymade with brackish water which was perfectly sickening. Georgehad always just eaten when I announced that dinner was ready, andfor answer he generally wrapped himself in his blankets and fellasleep. The consequence was that each of us lived his own life, andthe companionship which might have made up for many insufficiencieson board was lacking entirely. 

It was the first sunny day after many rainy ones when the currentcarried us through the channel. When we got on too slowly the oarshad to help. After several hours we arrived in the open, and a freshbreeze carried us quickly alongside the small islands of Aore, Tutubaand Malo. Blue, white-crested waves lifted us up so high that we couldlook far over the foaming sea, and again we sank down in a valley, out of which we could only see the nearest waves rolling threateninglytowards us. Behind us the little dinghy shot down the swells, glidingon the water like a duck. In the late afternoon we approached the northpoint of Malekula, and followed the west coast southward, towards thecountry of the "Big Nambas"--our destination. Contrasting with otherislands of the archipelago, Malekula does not seem densely coveredwith vegetation at this point. We do not see much of the impenetrablebush, but rather a scanty growth of grass on the coral reefs, a fewshrubs and she-oaks, then a narrow belt of forest covering the steepcliffs and sides of the hills, on whose backs we find extensive areascovered with reed-grass. Even a luxuriant forest does not look gayon a dull day, and this barren landscape looked most inhospitable inthe grey mist of the afternoon. We slowly followed a coast of raggedcoral patches, alternating with light sand beaches. Towards nightfallwe anchored near a stony shore, flanked by two high cliffs, in about10 fathoms of the most transparent water. We could see in the depthsthe irregular shapes of the rocks, separated by white sand, and thesoft mysterious colours in which the living coral shines like a giantcarpet. The sea was quiet as a pond, yet we were on the shores ofthat endless ocean that reaches westward to the Torres Straits. 

Torn clouds floated across the hills towards the north-west, the starsshone dull, and it was very lonely and oppressively silent, nowherewas there a trace of life, human or animal. Lying on deck, I listenedto the sound of the surf breaking in the different little bays nearand far, in a monotonous measure, soft and yet irresistible. It isthe voice of the sea in its cleansing process, the continual grindingand casting out of all impurities, the eternal war against the landand its products, and the final destruction of the earth itself. 

The district of the Big Nambas, to whose shores we had come, takesits name from the size of a certain article of dress, the "Nambas, "which partly replaces our trousers, and is worn in different formsover the greater part of the archipelago, but nowhere of such sizeas here. It is such an odd object that it may well give its name tothe country. Big Nambas is still the least known part of the islands, and hardly any white has ever set foot in the interior. Unlike thoseof other districts, the natives here have preserved their old habitsand strict organization, and this is evidently the reason why theyhave not degenerated and decayed. The old chiefs are still as powerfulas ever, and preserve peace and order, while they themselves do asthey please. Big Nambas has had but little contact with the whites, especially the recruiters, so that the population is not demoralized, nor the chief's power undermined. Of course it is to the chief'sinterest to have as strong a tribe as possible, and they reserve tothemselves the right of killing offenders, and take all revenge intheir own hands. They watch the women and prevent child-murder and suchthings, and although their reign is one of terror, their influence, as a whole, on the race is not bad, because they suppress many vicesthat break out as soon as they slacken their severity. The chiefsin Big Nambas seem to have felt this, and systematically opposedthe intercourse with whites. But this district is just where thebest workmen come from, and the population is densest, and that iswhy the recruiters have tried again and again of late years to gethold of Big Nambas, but with little success, for so far only fewmen have enlisted. One of them was on our cutter, and had to serveas interpreter. The other four of the five boys were from Malekula, a little farther south. Our man from Big Nambas was known on theplantation as Bourbaki, and had enlisted two years ago. Before thathe had been professional murderer and provider of human flesh to thegreat chief. Now he was a useful and quiet foreman on the plantation, always cheerful, very intelligent, strong, brutal, with small, shrewdeyes and a big mouth, apparently quite happy in civilization, anddevoted to George. He was one of the few natives who openly admittedhis liking for human flesh, and rapturously described its incomparabletenderness, whiteness and delicacy. A year ago, when visiting hisvillage, he had been inconsolable because he had come a day late for acannibal feast, and had blamed his father bitterly for not having saveda piece for him. Aside from this ghoulish propensity, Bourbaki wasa thoroughly nice fellow, obliging, reliable and as happy as a childat the prospect of seeing his father again. We expected good serviceand help in recruiting from him, and promised him ample head-money. 

Bourbaki had run away without the permission of his chief, who wasfurious at the loss of his best man, and had given orders to kill therecruiter, a brother-in-law of George. Some natives had ambushed andshot at them while entering the whale-boat; the white had receivedseveral wounds, and a native woman had been killed. The boat pulledaway rapidly. Bourbaki laughed, and, indeed, by this time the littleincident was quite forgotten, as its only victim had been a woman. 

The morning was damp and dull. The hills came down to the sea in slopesof grey-green, the shore was a soft brown, and the rocks lay in darkpatches on the beach, separated from the greyish-green of the seaby the white line of the breakers. The hollow sound of the dynamiteexplosions glided along the slopes and was swallowed in distant space. 

A few hours later, thinking the natives might be coming, we gotour arms ready: each of us had a revolver and a repeating rifle, the boys had old Sniders. The cutter lay about 200 mètres off-shore, and we could see everything that was going on on the beach. Behindthe flat, stony shore the forest-covered hills rose in a steep cliffto a tableland about 100 mètres high. On the water we were in perfectsafety, for the villages lie far inland, and the Big Nambas are nosailors, hate the sea and possess no canoes. They only come to thebeach occasionally, to get a few crabs and shell-fish, yet each tribehas its own place on the shore, where no stranger is admitted. 

We took Bourbaki ashore; he was very anxious to go home, and promptlydisappeared in the bush, his Snider on his shoulder. We then returnedto the cutter and waited. It is quite useless to be in a hurry whenrecruiting, but one certainly needs a supply of patience, for thenatives have no idea of the value of time, and cannot understand therush which our civilization has created. 

Late in the afternoon a few naked figures appeared on the beach. Oneof them signalled with a branch, and soon others followed, tillabout fifty men had assembled, and in the background, half-hidden byshrubs, stood half a dozen women. We entered the whale-boats, twoboys and a white man in each, and slowly approached the shore. Allthe natives carried their rifles in their right hands and yams intheir left, making signs to show that they wished to trade. We gavethem to understand that they must first put down their muskets, and when they hesitated we cocked our rifles and waited. Some ofthem went back to the forest and laid down their guns, while theothers sat down at a distance and watched. We promptly put down ourrifles, approached and showed our trade-goods--tobacco, matches, clay pipes and calico. Hesitating, suspicious, yet tempted, theycrowded round the boat and offered their yams, excitedly shoutingand gesticulating, talking and laughing. They had quite enormousyams, which they traded for one or two sticks of tobacco or as manypipes. Matches and calico were not much in demand. Our visitorswere mostly well-built, medium-sized men of every age, and lookedvery savage and dangerous. They were nearly naked, but for a belt ofbark around their waists, about 20 cm. Wide, which they wore woundseveral times around their bodies, so that it stood out like a thickring. Over this they had bound narrow ribbons of braided fibres, dyed in red patterns, the ends of the ribbons falling down in largetassels. Under this belt is stuck the end of the enormous nambas, also consisting of red grass fibres. Added to this scanty dress aresmall ornaments, tortoise-shell ear-rings, bamboo combs, braceletsembroidered with rings of shell and cocoa-nut, necklaces, and thinbands bound under the knees and over the ankles. 

The beautiful, lithe, supple bodies support a head covered with long, curly hair, and the face is framed by a long and fairly well-keptbeard. The eyes roll unsteadily, and their dark and penetrating lookis in no wise softened by the brown colouring of the scela. The noseis only slightly concave, the sides are large and thick, and theirwidth is increased by a bamboo or stone cylinder stuck through theseptum. Both nose and eyes are overhung by a thick torus. The upper lipis generally short and rarely covers the mouth, which is exceptionallylarge and wide, and displays a set of teeth of remarkable strengthand perfection. The whole body is covered with a thick layer of greasysoot. Such is the appearance of the modern man-eater. 

Just at first we did not feel any too comfortable or anxious to goashore, and we watched our neighbours very carefully. They, however, were hardly less frightened and suspicious; but after a while, through the excitement of trading, they became more confident, forgottheir suspicions and bargained noisily, as happy as a crowd of boys;still, any violent movement on our part startled them. For instance, several of them started to run for the woods when I hastily grabbeda pipe that a roll of the boat had set slipping off the seat. 

After having filled the boats to the brim with yams, and the firsteagerness of bartering over, we ventured ashore. A suspicious crowdstood around us and watched every movement. We first showed them ourweapons, and a violent smacking of the lips and long-drawn whistles, or a grunting "Whau!" bespoke a gratifying degree of admirationand wonder. The longer the cartridges and the larger the bullets, the more they impressed them, and our revolvers were glanced at withcontempt and a shrug of the shoulders, expressing infinite disdain, until each of us shot a few rounds. Then they winced, started torun away, came back and laughed boisterously over their own fright;but after that they had more respect for our "little guns. "

Soon they became more daring, came closer and began to feel us, firsttouching us lightly with the finger-tips, then with their hands. Theywanted to look at and handle everything, cartridge-belts, pipes, hats and clothes. When all these had been examined, they investigatedour persons, and to me, at least, not being used to this, it wasmost disagreeable. I did not mind when they tucked up our sleeves andtrousers and compared the whiteness and softness of our skin with theirown dark hide, nor when they softly and caressingly stroked the softskin on the inner side of our arms and legs, vigorously smacking theirlips the while; but when they began to feel the tenderness and probablythe delicacy of our muscles, and tried to estimate our fitness for aroyal repast, muttering deep grunts, constantly smacking their lips, and evidently highly satisfied with the result of their investigation, I did not enjoy the situation any more; still less when I saw anugly-looking fellow trembling violently from greedy desire, rollinghis eyes in wild exultation and performing an anticipatory cannibaldinner-dance. We gradually began to shake off this wearisomely intimatecrowd; the fact that there were two of us, and that I was not alonein this situation was very comforting. However, in the course of thenext few years I became accustomed to this treatment, though I neveragain met it in such crudeness. 

We had slowly approached the forest and could get a few glimpses of thewomen, who had kept quite in the background and hid still more whenwe came near. They had braided aprons around their waists and rolledmats on their heads. Nearly all of them carried babies on their hips, and they looked fairly healthy, although the children were full ofsores. Evidently the men did not like our looking at the ladies; theypushed us back and drove the women away. We returned to the boats, and the natives retired too, howling, shrieking and laughing. Towardsevening another crowd arrived, and the performance was repeated inevery detail. Happy over the bartered goods, they began to dance, first decorating themselves with tall branches stuck in the back oftheir belts. They jumped from one foot to the other, sometimes turninground, and singing in a rough, deep monotone. We withdrew to the boats, and they dispersed on the shore, lighted fires and roasted the yamsthey had left. 

Far away across the sea there was lightning, the surf boomed moreheavily than by day, the cutter rolled more violently and restlesslyand the whaleboat scraped against her sides, while the wind roaredthrough the forest gullies and thunder threatened behind the hills. Wefelt lonely in the thick darkness, with the tempest approachingsteadily, afloat on a tiny shell, alone against the fury of theelements. The lamp was blown out, and we lay on deck listening to thestorm, until a heavy squall drove us below, to spend the night in astuffy atmosphere, in uncomfortable positions, amid wild dreams. Nextmorning there were again about twenty men on the shore, and again thesame performances were gone through. Evidently the people, influencedby Bourbaki, who was still in the village, were more confident, andleft their weapons behind of their own accord. They came to trade, and when their provisions of yam were exhausted, most of them left;only a few, mostly young fellows, wanted to stay, but some oldermen stayed with them, so as to prevent them from going on boardand enlisting. Evidently the young men were attracted by all ourwonderful treasures, and would have liked to see the country whereall these things came from. They imagined the plantations must be verybeautiful places, while the old men had vague notions to the contrary, and were afraid of losing their young braves. 

During a lull in the proceedings we climbed the narrow, steep andslippery path up to the tableland in order to get an idea of thecountry behind the hills. Half-way up we met two old men carryingyam down to the beach. They were terrified at sight of us, began totremble, stopped and spoke to us excitedly. We immediately laid downour rifles, and signed to them to approach, but they suddenly droppedtheir loads, ran off and disappeared in the bush. They evidently fearedwe had come to kidnap them, and we decided it was wiser to return tothe beach, so as not to irritate the people. Shortly afterwards anothercrowd of natives came along the beach carrying yam. They approachedwith extreme care, ready to fight or fly, but they were less afraid ofus than of the natives, for whom that part of the beach was reserved, and with whom we had been trading. They were enemies of the newcomers, who knew that they were outside their own territory and might expectan attack any moment. Squatting down near us, they anxiously watchedthe forest, ever ready to jump up. One of them, who spoke a littlebiche la mar, came up to me and asked me to anchor that night neartheir beach, and buy yams from them, which we promised to do. At asound in the forest they jumped up and ran away. George, wishing totalk more with them, took his rifle and ran after them, but they hadalready retreated behind some boulders, and were waving their riflesand signalling him to stay where he was. They thought we were in aplot with other natives, and had ambushed them. To such a degree dothese people live in constant fear, and thus arise misunderstandingswhich end in death, unless the whites are very prudent and quiet. Manya recruiter in our case would have welcomed this apparent provocationto shoot at the natives from a safe distance with his superior rifle. 

All day it rained in heavy squalls, coming from over the hills;everything was damp, the night was dark and still and we sighed inour narrow cell of a cabin. Next morning Bourbaki came back with anew crowd of natives, who again felt and investigated, happily, also, admired us. So vain is human-kind that even the admiration of cannibalsis agreeable. I let some of them try my shot-gun, and everyone wantedto attempt the feat, although they were all badly frightened. They heldthe gun at arm's length, turned their faces away and shot at random;it was clear that very few knew how to shoot, and that their Sniderscould be of use only at short range. This is confirmed by the factthat all their murders are done point-blank. 

Bourbaki brought news that in a few days there was to be a greatsacrificial feast in the village, and that, everybody being busypreparing for it, we had no chance of recruiting, neither could wesee the great chief, he being shut up in his house, invisible toeverybody except to a little boy, his servant. We landed a goat forBourbaki's father; the innocent animal caused terrible fright andgreat admiration. All the men retreated behind trunks or rocks andno one dared touch the strange creature. Bourbaki was very proud ofhimself for knowing goats, and fastened the poor little thing to atree in the shade. He then coaxed three old men on board. Clumsilythey entered the whale-boats, and even on board the cutter theysquatted anxiously down and dared hardly move for fear the ship mightcapsize or they might slip into the water, of which they were quiteafraid. They could hardly speak, and stared at everything, wide-eyedand open-mouthed. They forgot their fears, however, in delight overour possessions. A saucepan proved a joy; the boards and planks ofthe ship were touched and admired amid much smacking of the lips; adevout "Whau!" was elicited by the sight of the cabin, which seemed afairy palace to them. Smaller things they approved of by whistling;in general they behaved very politely. If they did not understandthe use of a thing, they shrugged their shoulders with a grimaceof contempt. A mirror was useless to them at first; after a whilethey learned to see; they were frightened, and at last they roaredwith laughter, put out their tongues, admired their sooty faces andbegan to pull out their bristles, for they all wore their upper lipsshaved. Naturally, they confused right and left, and became entirelybewildered. A watch did not impress them; the ticking seemed mysteriousand not quite innocent, and they put the instrument away at a safedistance. They asked to see some money, but were much disappointed, having imagined it would look bigger and more imposing. They preferreda little slip of paper, which they carefully hid in their belts. Ourstock of cartridges impressed them deeply, and there was no end ofwhistling and grunting. Sugar and tea were objects of suspicion. Theythought them poison, and took some along, probably to experiment ona good friend or a woman. Matches were stuck into the hair, the beardor the perforated ears. Pictures were quite incomprehensible. 

After an hour they left, less frightened than before, but still veryglad to leave all the mysterious and uncanny things behind. Bourbakimade fun of their innocence, and thought himself very civilized, but he himself was dreadfully afraid of my camera: "White man hesavee too much. "

The weather cleared towards evening. Some natives stayed on the shoreall night, lighted fires and sang songs in anticipation of the comingdance. Our boys mimicked them, laughed at them and felt very superior, though we whites failed to see much difference, and, as a matter offact, a short time after having returned home these boys can hardlybe told from ordinary bushmen. The shrieks of the savages pierced thevelvet of the night like daggers, but by and by they quieted down, and we heard nothing more but the rhythmic rise and fall of the surf. 

In the silver light of the rising moon the boats rolled gently behindthe ship like dark spots, and light clouds glided westward acrossthe stars, eternally rising behind the black cliffs and disappearingin the universal dimness. We were asleep on deck, when suddenly aviolent shower woke us up and banished us into that terrible cabin. 

No natives came next day; they were all busy preparing the feast. Wehad nothing to do but to loaf on the beach or on board, and smoke, as we had no fishing-tackle and no animals to shoot. The grey sky, the vague light, the thin rain, were depressing, and all sortsof useless thoughts came to us. We noticed the hardships of ourexistence on board, felt that we were wasting time, grew irritable anddissatisfied. If only my companion had been less sulky! But with himthere could be no pleasant chat, no cosy evening hour over a cup oftea and a pipe; and I would almost have preferred being alone to thissolitude à deux. I sat on deck and listened to the breakers. Oftenthey sounded like a rushing express train and awakened reminiscencesof travel and movement. The cool wind blew softly from afar, andI could understand for the first time that longing that asks thewinds for news of home and friends. I gave myself up wholly to thisvague dreaming, call it home-sickness, or what you will, it enlivenedthe oppressive colourlessness of the days and the loneliness of thenights. As usual, a heavy shower came, luckily, perhaps, to interruptall softer thoughts. 

Then followed a few clear days, which changed our mood entirely. Thecutter rolled confidingly in the morning breeze, and the sun glowedwarm and golden. In picturesque cascades the green forest seemedto rush down the slopes to the bright coral beach, on which the seabroke playfully. Once in a while a bird called far off in the depthsof the woods. It was delicious to lie on the warm beach and be driedand roasted by the sun, to think of nothing in particular, but justto exist. Two wild pigs came to the beach in the evening to dig foryam that the natives had buried there; a chase, though unsuccessful, gave excitement and movement. We could venture far inland now withoutfear, for the natives were all away at the feast. Brilliant sunsetsclosed the days in royal splendour. Behind a heavy cloud-bank whichhid the sun, he seemed to melt in the sea and to form one goldenelement. Out of the cloud five yellow rays shot across the steel-bluesky, so that it looked like one of those old-fashioned engravingsof God behind a cloud. When everything had melted into one gorgeousfire, and we were still helpless before all that glory, the coloursfaded away to the most delicate combinations of half-tones; soon thestars came out glittering on the deep sky, first of all the SouthernCross. Halley's comet was still faintly visible. 

In the morning the sky was cloudless, and changed from one lovelycolour to the other, until the sun rose to give it its bright blueand paint the shore in every tint. Then every stone at the bottom ofthe sea was visible, and all the marvellous coral formations, withtheir weird shapes and fiery colours, glowed in rose and violet andpure golden yellow. Above lay big sea-stars, and large fish in brighthues floated between the cliffs in soft, easy movements, while brightblue little ones shot hither and thither like mad. 

Bourbaki arrived with his younger brother, a neat and gentle-lookingboy. The feast was to begin that evening, and I asked Bourbaki ifthey had plenty of pigs to eat. "Oh no, " he said; "but that is ofno importance: we have a man to eat! Yesterday we killed him inthe bush, and to-day we will eat him. " He said this with the mostinnocent expression, as if he were talking about the weather. I had toforce myself not to draw away from him, and looked somewhat anxiouslyinto his face; but Bourbaki stared quietly into the distance, as ifdreaming of the past excitements and the coming delights; then hepicked up a cocoa-nut and tore the husk off with his strong teeth. Itmade me shudder to watch his brutish movements, but he was perfectlyhappy that morning, willing and obedient. At noon he went away tohis horrid feast, and for two days we saw nobody. 

We passed the time as usual; the weather was rainy again, andeverything seemed grey, --the sky, the sea and the shore, and ourmood. One is so dependent on surroundings. 

On the third day Bourbaki came back, a little tired, but evidentlysatisfied. Some of his friends accompanied him, and he brought wordthat the chief had given permission for a few boys to enlist, butthat we would have to wait about ten days until he could come tothe shore himself. Not wishing to spend the ten days there, doingabsolutely nothing, we decided to go farther south, to Tesbel Bay, and try our luck at recruiting there, as we had another boy, Macao, from that district. George gave leave to Bourbaki, who had beensomewhat savage these last days, to stay at home till our return, andhe seemed delighted to have a holiday. We were all the more surprisedwhen, just before we weighed anchor, Bourbaki came back, shaking handswithout a word. We were quite touched by this remarkable sign of hisaffection, pardoned his many objectionable ways, and never thoughtthat perhaps he might have ample reason not to feel altogether safeand comfortable at home. 

The wind being contrary, we had to tack about all night long withoutadvancing. Squalls rushed over the water, and then, again, the breezedied down completely, only black, jagged clouds drifted westwardacross the sky, and here and there a few stars were visible. Thecutter's deck was crowded with stuff, and there seemed less room forus than ever, except in the hateful cabin. The boys sang monotonously"for wind, " quite convinced that the next breeze would be due to theirefforts. A fat old man sang all night long in falsetto in three notes;it was unbearably silly and irritating, yet one could hardly stop thepoor devil and rob him of his only pleasure in that dark night. Wefelt damp, restless and sleepless, and tried in vain to find somecomfort. Next evening we reached the entrance of Tesbel Bay, andthe wind having died down, we had to work our way in with the oars, a slow and hard task. Bourbaki yelled and pulled at the oars withall his might, encouraging the others. These are the joys of sailing. 

Tesbel Bay is framed on two sides by high cliffs. Big boulderslie in picturesque confusion where the surf foams white againstthe narrow beach. Wherever there is a foot of ground, luxuriousvegetation thrives. Ahead of us lies a level valley that stretchesfar inland to the foot of a high mountain, whose head is lost in greyclouds. A little creek runs into the bay through high reed-grass, behind a sandbank. Just before setting, the sun shone through theclouds and smiled on the lovely, peaceful landscape, seeming topromise us a pleasant stay. The smoke of many village fires roseout of the bush at a distance. Two ragged natives were loafing onthe beach, and I engaged one of them for the next day, to guide meto some villages. Bourbaki and Macao marched gaily off, as they wereto spend the night in Macao's village. 

Next morning, while being pulled ashore for my excursion inland, Isaw Macao on the beach, crying, waving and behaving like a madman. Hecalled out that Bourbaki was dead, and that we must come to thevillage. I took him into the boat and we returned to the cutter. Macaowas trembling all over, uttering wild curses, sighing and sobbing likea child. Between the fingers of his left hand he frantically graspedhis cartridges, and nervously kept hold of his old rifle. We couldnot get much out of him; all we could make out was that Bourbaki hadbeen shot towards morning and that he himself had run away. We guessedthat Bourbaki must have committed some misdemeanour; as there was apossibility of his still being alive, we decided to go and look forhim; for satisfaction it was idle to hope. 

According to Macao the village was quite near, so we took our rifles, armed the boys, and in ten minutes we were ashore. The youngest, a fourteen-year-old boy, was left in the whale-boat, so as to beready to pick us up in case of need. His elder brother, a tall, stout fellow, also preferred to stay in the boat; we left him behind, and this left five of us for the expedition. Macao showed us theway, and as we followed him we watched right and left for a possibleambush. It was a disagreeable moment when we dived into the thicket, where we expected to be attacked any moment, and I could hardly blameanother fat boy for dropping behind, too, to "watch the shore, " ashe said. Not wishing to lose any time, we let him go, for we wereanxious to be in the village before the natives should have time torally and prepare for resistance. 

The path was miserable--slippery slopes, wildly knotted roots, stones, creeks and high reeds. We were kept quite busy enough watching ourpath, and were not careful at all about watching the bush; but wewere confident that the natives, being very poor shots, would betraytheir presence by a random shot. We were exposed, of course, to shotsfrom close quarters alongside the path, but we trusted to Macao'ssharp eyes to detect a hidden enemy. After an hour's brisk walk, we asked Macao whether the village was still far off; every timewe asked, his answer was the same: "Bim by you me catch him, " or, "Him he close up. " However, after an hour and a half, we began tofeel worried. We had no idea whether we would find a peaceful villageor an armed tribe, and in the latter case a retreat would doubtlesshave been fatal, owing to the long distance we would have had to goin the forest, where the white man is always at a disadvantage. Butwe had undertaken the adventure, and we had to see it through. 

After two hours we unexpectedly came upon a village. A dozen menand a few women were squatting about, evidently expecting someevent. The presence of the women was a sign that the people werepeacefully inclined. An old man, a relative of Macao's, joined us, and a short walk through a gully brought us quite suddenly into avillage square. About thirty men were awaiting us, armed with riflesand clubs, silent and shy. Macao spoke to them, whereupon they laiddown their rifles and led us to a hut, where we found Bourbaki, lying on his back, dead. He had been sitting in the house when someone shot him from behind; he had jumped up and tried to fly, but hadbroken down and fallen where he was then lying. He must have diedalmost at once, as the bullet had torn a great hole in his body. Hisrifle and cartridges were missing, that was all. 

The villagers stood around us, talking excitedly; we could notunderstand them, but they were evidently not hostile, and we toldthem to bury Bourbaki. They began at once, digging a hole in thesoft earth with pointed sticks. We then asked for the rifle, thecartridges and the murderer, and were informed that two men had donethe killing. After some deliberation a number of men walked off, one ofthem a venerable old man, armed after the old fashion with a bow anda handful of poisoned arrows, which he handled with deliberate care;he also carried a club in a sling over his shoulder. Of all thosestrong men, this old one seemed to me the most dangerous but alsothe most beautiful and the most genuine. After a while they returned, and two other men slunk in and stood apart. 

The natives seemed undecided what to do, and squatted about, talkingamong themselves, until at last one of them pulled me by the sleeveand led us towards the two newcomers. We understood that they werethe murderers, and each of us took hold of one of them. They made noresistance, but general excitement arose in the crowd, all the othernatives shouting and gesticulating, even threatening each other withtheir rifles. They were split in two parties, --one that wanted to giveup the murderers, and their relatives, who wanted to keep them. We toldthem that the affair would be settled if they gave up the murderers;if not, the man-of-war would come and punish the whole village. As myprisoner tried to get loose, I bound him, and while I was busy withthis I heard a shot. Seeing that all the men had their rifles ready, I expected the fight to begin, but George told me his prisoner hadescaped and he had shot after him. The man had profited by George'sindecision to run away. 

This actual outbreak of the hostilities excited the people so thatwe thought it best to retire, taking our single prisoner with us. Afew of the natives followed us, and when we left the village therelatives of the murderer broke out in violent wailing and weeping, thinking, as did the prisoner, Belni, himself, that we were going toeat him up, after having tortured him to death. Belni trembled allover, was very gentle and inclined to weep like a punished child, butquite resigned and not even offering any resistance. He only askedMacao anxiously what we were going to do with him. Macao, furiousat the death of his comrade, for whom he seemed to have felt realaffection, put him in mortal fear, and was quite determined to avengehis murdered friend. We shut Belni up in the hold of the cutter andtold the natives that they would have to hand over Bourbaki's rifleand cartridges, and pay us two tusked pigs by noon of the next day. 

On this occasion we learned the reason for the murder: Belni'sbrother had had an intrigue with the wife of the chief, and had beencondemned by the latter to pay a few pigs. Being too poor to do this, he decided to pay his debt in an old-fashioned way by killing a man, and Bourbaki was unlucky enough to arrive just at the right time, and being a man from a distant district, there was no revenge to befeared. Belni, therefore, chose him as his victim. The two brotherschatted all night with him and Macao, and asked to see Bourbaki'srifle, which he carelessly handed to them. When, towards morning, Macao left them for a few moments, they profited by the opportunityto shoot Bourbaki from behind, and to run away. Macao, rushing back, found his friend dead, and fled to the shore. By this deed the wrongto the chief was supposed to be made good--a very peculiar practice innative justice. It may be a remnant of old head-hunting traditions, inasmuch as Belni's brother would have given the dead man's head tothe chief in payment, this being even more valuable than pigs. 

The first excitement over, our boys were seized by fear, even Macaoand the other one who had accompanied us. Although they were inperfect safety on board the cutter they feared all sorts of revengefrom Belni's relatives, --for instance, that they might cause astorm and wreck the cutter. We laughed at them, but they would notbe cheered up, and, after all, Macao's horrible dread that his oldfather was surely being eaten up by this time in the village was notquite groundless. We were not in the brightest of humours ourselves, as this event had considerably lessened our chances of recruitingat Big Nambas; the chief made us responsible for Bourbaki's death, and asked an indemnity which we could hardly pay, except with thetusked pigs we demanded here. 

We could not stay longer in Tesbel Bay, as our boys were too muchfrightened, and the natives might turn against us at any moment. Wecould hardly get the boys to go ashore for water and firewood, forfear of an ambush. In the evening we fetched Belni out of the hold. Hewas still doleful and ready to cry, but seemed unconscious of anyfault; he had killed a man, but that was rather an honourable actthan a crime, and he only seemed to regret that it had turned out sounsatisfactorily. He did not seem to have much appetite, but swallowedhis yam mechanically in great lumps. The boys shunned him visibly, all but Macao, who squatted down close before him, and gave him foodwith wild hatred in his eyes, and muttering awful threats. Icy-cold, cruel, with compressed lips and poisonous looks like a serpent's, he hissed his curses and tortured Belni, who excused himself clumsilyand shyly, playing with the yam and looking from one dark corner tothe other, like a boy being scolded. The scene was so gruesome thatI had Belni shut up again, and we watched all night, for Macao wasdetermined to take the murderer's life. It was a dry, moonlit night;one of the boys was writhing with a pain in his stomach, and we coulddo nothing to help him, so they were all convinced it was caused byBelni's relatives, and wanted to sail immediately. A warm breeze haddriven mosquitoes to the cutter; it was a most unpleasant night. 

Next noon the natives appeared, about twenty strong, but withoutthe second murderer. They said the shot had hit him, and that hehad died during the night. This might have been true, and as wecould do nothing against the village anyway, we let the matter drop, especially as they had brought us Bourbaki's rifle and two tuskedpigs. The chief said he hoped we were satisfied with him, and wouldnot trouble anyone but the murderers. 

We returned to the cutter, and the pigs were put in the hold, where they seem to have kept good company with Belni, after a littlepreliminary squealing and shrieking. Then we sailed northward, with abreeze that carried us in four hours over the same distance for whichwe had taken twenty-four last time. It was a bitterly cold night. Wedecided to return home, fearing the boys would murder Belni in anunwatched moment, as they had asked several times, when the sea washigh, whether we would not throw Belni into the water now. The passageto Santo was very rough. The waves thundered against the little oldcutter, and we had a nasty tide-rip. We were quite soaked, and lookingin through the portholes, we could see everything floating about inthe cabin--blankets, saucepans, tins and pistols. We did not mind much, as we hoped to be at home by evening. 

Rest, cleanliness and a little comfort were very tempting after afortnight in the filthy narrowness of the little craft. We had noreason to be vain of our success; but such trips are part of the game, and we planned a second visit to Big Nambas to reconcile the chief. Wewere glad to greet the cloud-hung coast of Santo, and soon enteredthe Segond Channel. There we discovered that the old boat had leakedto such an extent that we could have kept afloat for only a few hourslonger, and had every reason to be glad the voyage was at an end. Itwas just as well that we had not noticed the leak during the passage. 

We brought Belni ashore; the thin, flabby fellow was a poorcompensation for vigorous Bourbaki. He was set to work on theplantation, and as the Government was never informed of the affair, he is probably there to this day, and will stay until he dies. 

CHAPTER V

VAO

I had not yet solved the problem of how to get away from the SegondChannel and find a good field of labour, when, happily, the Frenchpriest from Port Olry came to stay a few days with his colleague atthe channel, on his way to Vao, and he obligingly granted me a passageon his cutter. I left most of my luggage behind, and the schooner ofthe French survey party was to bring it to Port Olry later on. 

After a passage considerably prolonged by contrary winds, we arrivedat Vao, a small island north-east of Malekula. When one has sailedalong the lifeless, greyish-green shores of Malekula, Vao is like asunbeam breaking through the mist. This change of mood comes gradually, as one notices the warm air of spring, and dry souls, weather-beatencaptains and old pirates may hardly be aware of anything beyond abetter appetite and greater thirst. And it is not easy to define whatlends the little spot such a charm that the traveller feels revived asif escaped from some oppression. From a distance Vao looks like all theother islands and islets of the archipelago--a green froth floating onthe white line of breakers; from near by we see, as everywhere else, the bright beach in front of the thick forest. But what impressesthe traveller mournfully elsewhere, --the eternal loneliness andlifelessness of a country where nature has poured all its power intothe vegetation, and seems to have forgotten man and beast, --is softenedhere, and an easy joy of living penetrates everything like a delicatescent, and lifts whatever meets the eye to greater significance andbeauty. The celestial charm of the South Sea Islands, celebrated bythe first discoverers, seems to be preserved here, warming the soullike the sweet remembrance of a happy dream. Hardly anyone who feelsthese impressions will wonder about their origin, but he will hastenashore and dive into the forest, driven by a vague idea of findingsome marvel. Later he will understand that the charm of Vao lies inthe rich, busy human life that fills the island. It is probably themost thickly populated of the group, with about five hundred soulsliving in a space one mile long and three-fourths of a mile wide; andit is their happy, careless, lazy existence that makes Vao seem tothe stranger like a friendly home. Here there are houses and fires, lively people who shout and play merrily, and after the lonelinesswhich blows chill from the bush, the traveller is glad to rest andfeel at home among cheerful fellow-men. 

About seventy outrigger boats of all sizes lie on the beach. Ontheir bows they carry a carved heron, probably some half-forgottentotem. The bird is more or less richly carved, according to the socialstanding of the owner, and a severe watch is kept to prevent peoplefrom carrying carvings too fine for their degree. Similarly, we findlittle sticks like small seats fastened to the canoes, their numberindicating the caste of the owner. Under big sheds, in the shade of thetall trees, lie large whale-boats of European manufacture, belongingto the different clans, in which the men undertake long cruises tothe other islands, Santo, Aoba, Ambrym, to visit "sing-sings" andtrade in pigs. Formerly they used large canoes composed of severaltrees fastened together with ropes of cocoa-nut fibre, and caulkedwith rosin, driven by sails of cocoa-nut sheaths; these would holdthirty to forty men, and were used for many murderous expeditions. Forthe inhabitants of Vao were regular pirates, dreaded all along thecoast; they would land unexpectedly in the morning near a village, kill the men and children, steal the women and start for home withrich booty. European influences have put a stop to this sport, andwith the introduction of whale-boats the picturesque canoes havedisappeared from the water, and now lie rotting on the beach. Theirsuccessors (though according to old tradition, women may not enterthem) are only used for peaceful purposes. 

In the early morning the beach is deserted, but a few hours aftersunrise it is full of life. The different clans come down from theirvillages by narrow paths which divide near the shore into one path forthe men and another for the women, leading to separate places. The mensquat down near one of the boat-houses and stretch out comfortably inthe warm sand, smoking and chatting. The women, loaded with childrenand baskets, sit in the shade of the knobby trees which stretch theirtrunk-like branches horizontally over the beach, forming a naturalroof against sun and rain. The half-grown boys are too lively toenjoy contemplative laziness; gossip and important deliberationsabout pigs and sacrifices do not interest them, and they play aboutbetween the canoes, wade in the water, look for shells on the sand, or hunt crabs or fish in the reef. Thus an hour passes. The sunhas warmed the sand; after the cool night this is doubly agreeable, and a light breeze cools the air. Some mothers bathe their babies inthe sea, washing and rubbing them carefully, until the coppery skinshines in the sun; the little creatures enjoy the bath immensely, and splash gaily in the element that will be their second homein days to come. Everyone on the beach is in the easiest undress:the men wear nothing but a bark belt, and the women a little apronof braided grass; the children are quite naked, unless bracelets, necklaces and ear-rings can count as dress. Having rested and amplyfortified themselves for the painful resolution to take up the day'swork, people begin to prepare for departure to the fields. They haveto cross the channel, about a mile wide, to reach the big island wherethe yam gardens lie, sheltered by the forest from the trade-winds;and this sail is the occasion for the prettiest sight Vao can offer. 

The tides drive the sea through the narrow channel so hard as to starta current which is almost a stream. The head-wind raises short, sharp, white-capped waves; shallow banks shine yellow through the clear water, and the coral reefs are patches of violet and crimson, and we aredelighted by constant changes, new shades and various colourings, never without harmony and loveliness. A cloudless sky bends overthe whole picture and shines on the red-brown bodies of the people, who bustle about their canoes, adding the bright red of their matsand dresses to the splendour of the landscape. 

With sudden energy the women have grabbed the boats and pushed theminto the water. The girls are slim, supple and strong as the young men, the mothers and older women rather stiff, and usually hampered by atleast one child, which they carry on their backs or on their hips, while another holds on to the garment which replaces our skirts. Thereis plenty of laughter and banter with the men, who look on unmovedat the efforts of the weaker sex, only rarely offering a helping hand. 

From the trees and hiding-places the paddles and the pretty triangularsails are fetched and fastened on the canoes; then the boats are pushedoff and the whole crowd jumps in. The babies sit in their mothers'laps or hang on their backs, perilously close to the water, intowhich they stare with big, dark eyes. By twos and threes the canoespush off, driven by vigorous paddling along the shore, against thecurrent. Sometimes a young man wades after a canoe and joins somefair friends, sitting in front of them, as etiquette demands. Thefresh breeze catches the sails, and the ten or fifteen canoes glideswiftly across the bright water, the spread sails looking like greatred butterflies. The spray splashes from the bows, one woman steers, and the others bale out the water with cocoa-nuts, --a labour worthy ofthe Danaides; sometimes the outrigger lifts up and the canoe threatensto capsize, but, quick as thought, the women lean on the poles joiningoutrigger and canoe, and the accident is averted. In a few minutesthe canoes enter the landings between the torn cliffs on the largeisland, the passengers jump out and carry the boats up the beach. 

A few stragglers, men of importance who have been detained by politics, and bachelors, who have nothing and nobody to care for but themselves, follow later on, and only a crowd of boys stays in Vao, to enjoythemselves on the beach and get into all sorts of mischief. 

Obliging as people sometimes are when the fancy strikes them, ayouth took us over to the other island in his canoe, and was evenskilful enough to keep us from capsizing. Narrow paths, bordered withimpenetrable bush, led us from the beach across coral boulders up tothe plantations on top of the tableland. Under some cocoa-nut palmsour guide stopped, climbed nimbly up a slim trunk, as if mounting aladder, and three green nuts dropped to the ground at our feet. Threeclever strokes of the knife opened them, and we enjoyed the refreshingdrink in its natural bowl. Sidepaths branched off to the gardens, whereevery individual or family had its piece of ground. We saw big bananas, taro, with large, juicy leaves, yams, trained on a pretty basket-shapedtrellis-work; when in bloom this looks like a huge bouquet. Therewere pine-apples, cabbages, cocoa-nut and bread-fruit trees, brightcroton bushes and highly scented shrubs. In this green and confusedabundance the native spends his day, working a little, loafing agreat deal. He shoots big pigeons and little parakeets, roasts themon an improvised fire and eats them as a welcome addition to hisregular meals. From sun and rain he is sheltered by simple roofs, under which everybody assembles at noon to gossip, eat and laugh. 

Long ago there were villages here. An enormous monolith, now broken, but once 5 mètres high, speaks for the energy of bygone generations, when this rock was carried up from the coast, probably for a monumentto some great chief. 

While the women were gathering food for the evening meal we returnedto Vao. The breeze had stiffened in the midst of the channel, andone old woman's canoe had capsized. She clung to the boat, callingpitifully for help, which amused all the men on the shore immensely, until at last, none too soon, they went to her rescue. Such adventuresare by no means harmless, as the channel swarms with sharks. 

We explored the interior of Vao, going first through the thicket onthe shore, then through reed-grass over 6 feet high, then betweenlow walls surrounding little plantations. Soon the path widened, andon both sides we saw stone slabs, set several rows deep; presentlywe found ourselves under the wide vault of one of those immense figtrees whose branches are like trunks, and the glare of the sun gaveway to deep shadow, the heat of noonday to soft coolness. 

Gradually our eyes grow accustomed to the dimness, and we distinguishour surroundings. We are in a wide square, roofed by the long branchesof the giant tree. At our left is its trunk, mighty enough in itself, but increased by the numerous air-roots that stretch like cablesfrom the crown to the earth, covering the trunk entirely in somespots, or dangling softly in the wind, ending in large tassels ofsmaller roots. Lianas wind in distorted curves through the branches, like giant snakes stiffened while fighting. This square is one ofthe dancing-grounds of Vao. The rows of stones surround the squareon three sides--two, three or more deep. Near the trunk of the greattree is a big altar of large slabs of rock; around it are stone tablesof smaller size, and one or two immense coral plates, which cover theburied skull of some mighty chief. A large rock lies in the middle ofthe road on a primitive slide half covered by stones and earth. Longago the islanders tried to bring it up from the beach; a strong vineserved as a rope, and more than fifty men must have helped to drag theheavy rock up from the coast to the square. Half-way they got tiredof the job and left the stone where it lies now, and will lie for ever. 

On the other side of the altar are the drums, hollow trunks, whoseupper end is carved to represent a human face with wide, grinningmouth, and deep, round and hollow eyes. Rammed in aslant, leaning inall directions, they stand like clumsy, malicious demons, spiteful andbrutal, as if holding their bellies with rude, immoderate laughterat their own hugeness and the puniness of mankind, at his miserablehumanity, compared to the solemn repose of the great tree. In frontof these are figures cut roughly out of logs, short-legged, withlong bodies and exaggeratedly long faces; often they are nothingbut a head, with the same smiling mouth, a long nose and narrow, oblique eyes. They are painted red, white and blue, and are hardlydiscernible in the dimness. On their forked heads they carry giantbirds with outstretched wings, --herons, --floating as if they had justdropped through the branches on to the square. 

This is all we can see, but it is enough to make a deepimpression. Outside, the sun is glaring, the leaves quiver, and theclouds are drifting across the sky, but here it is dim and cool asin a cathedral, not a breeze blows, everything is lapped in a holycalm. Abandonment, repose, sublime thoughtlessness drop down on us inthe shadow of the giant tree; as if in a dream we breathe the damp, soft, mouldy air, feel the smooth earth and the green moss that coverseverything like a velvet pall, and gaze at the altars, the drums andthe statues. 

In a small clearing behind the square, surrounded by gaily colouredcroton bushes, stands the men's house--the "gamal. " Strong pillarssupport its gabled roof, that reaches down to the ground; the entranceis flanked by great stone slabs. Oddly branched dead trees form a hedgearound the house, and on one side, on a sort of shelf, hang hundredsof boars' jaws with curved tusks. Inside, there are a few fireplaces, simple holes in the ground, and a number of primitive stretchersof parallel bamboos, couches that the most ascetic of whites woulddisdain. Among the beams of the roof hang all kinds of curiosities:dancing-masks and sticks, rare fish, pigs' jaws, bones, old weapons, amulets and so on, everything covered with a thick layer of soot fromthe ever-smouldering fires. These "gamals" are a kind of club-house, where the men spend the day and occasionally the night. In rainyweather they sit round the fire, smoking, gossiping and working onsome tool, --a club or a fine basket. Each clan has its own gamal, which is strictly taboo for the women, and to each gamal belongsa dancing-ground like the one described. On Vao there are five, corresponding to the number of clans. 

Near by are the dwelling-houses and family enclosures. Each family hasits square, surrounded by a wall about 1 mètre high of loose stonessimply piled up, so that it is unsafe to lean against it. Behind thewalls are high screens of braided reeds, which preclude the possibilityof looking into the enclosure; even the doors are so protected that noone can look in; for the men are very jealous, and do not want theirwives observed by strangers. These enclosures are very close together, and only narrow lanes permit circulation. As we turn a corner we maysee a woman disappear quickly, giggling, while children run away withterrified howls, for what the black man is to ours the white man isto them. 

Having won the confidence of a native, we may be taken into hiscourtyard, where there is little to be seen, as all the social lifegoes on in the gamals or on the dancing-grounds. A dozen simple hutsstand irregularly about the square, some half decayed and serving aspigsties. One hut belongs to the master, and each of his wives has ahouse of her own, in which to bring up her children. The yard is alivewith pigs and fowls and dogs and children, more or less peacefullyat play. 

In Vao, as in all Melanesia, the pig is the most valued of animals. Allthe thoughts of the native circle round the pig; for with pigs hecan buy whatever his heart desires: he can have an enemy killed, hecan purchase many women, he can attain the highest social standing, he can win paradise. No wonder, then, that the Vao pigs are just ascarefully nursed, if not more so, than the children, and that it isthe most important duty of the old matrons to watch over the welfareof the pigs. To call a young beauty "pig's foot, " "pig's nose, ""pig's tail, " or similar endearing names is the greatest complimenta lover can pay. But only the male pigs are esteemed, the females areof account only as a necessary instrument for propagating the species, and nobody takes care of them; so they run wild, and have to look outfor themselves. They are much happier than the males, which are tiedall their lives to a pole under a little roof; they are carefully fed, but this, their only pleasure, is spoilt by constant and terrifictoothache, caused by cruel man, who has a horrible custom of knockingout the upper eye-teeth of the male pig. The lower eye-teeth, findingnothing to rub against, grow to a surprising size, first upward, then down, until they again reach the jaw, grow on and on, throughthe cheek, through the jaw-bone, pushing out a few other teeth enpassant, then they come out of the jaw again, and curve a second, sometimes a third time, if the poor beast lives long enough. Thesepigs with curved tusks are the pride and wealth of every native; theyare the highest coin, and power and influence depend on the numberof such pigs a man owns, as well as on the size of their tusks, and this is the reason why they are so carefully watched, so thatno harm may come to them or their teeth. Very rich people may havequite a number of "tuskers, " people of average means own one or two, and paupers none at all, but they may have the satisfaction of lookingat those of the others and feeding them if they like. 

It will be necessary to say a few words here about the pig-cult andthe social organization of the natives, as they are closely connectedand form a key to an understanding of the natives' way of living andthinking. I wish to state at once, however, that the following remarksdo not pretend to be correct in all details. It is very hard to makeany researches as to these matters, as the natives themselves haveonly the vaguest notions on the subject, and entirely lack abstractideas, so that they fail to understand many of the questions put tothem. Without an exact knowledge of the language, and much personalobservation, it is hardly possible to obtain reliable results, especially as the old men are unwilling to tell all they know, and the young know very little, but rely on the knowledge of theold chiefs. Interpreters are of no use, and direct questioning hasbut little result, as the people soon become suspicious or tiredof thinking, and answer as they suppose the white man would wish, so as to have done with the catechizing as soon as possible. Perfectfamiliarity with the language, habits and character of the nativesis necessary, and their confidence must be won, in order to make anyprogress in the investigation of these problems. Missionaries are themen to unite these qualities, but, unfortunately, the missionariesof the New Hebrides do not seem to take much interest in the strangecult so highly developed here; so that, for want of something better, my own observations may be acceptable. 

The pig-cult, or "Suque, " is found almost all over Melanesia. Itis most highly developed in the Banks Islands and the Central NewHebrides, and rules the entire life of the natives; yet it formsonly a part of their religion, and probably a newer part, while thefundamental principle is ancestor-worship. We must not expect to findin the native mind clear conceptions of transcendental things. Thereligious ceremonies differ in adjoining villages, and so do the ideasconcerning the other world. There is no regular dogma; and since eventhe conceptions of religions with well-defined dogmas are constantlychanging, religions which are handed down by oral tradition only, and in the vaguest way, must necessarily be fluctuating. Followingthe natural laws of thought, religious conceptions split into numerouslocal varieties, and it is the task of the scientist to seek, amid thisvariety of exterior forms, the common underlying idea, long forgottenby everyone else, and to ascertain what it was in its original purity, without additions and deformations. 

My observations led me to the following results: according to nativebelief, the soul leaves the body after death, and wanders about nearby. Apparently the idea is that it remains in connection with the bodyfor a certain time, for in some districts the corpse is fed for fivedays or longer; in Vao a bamboo tube is used, which leads from thesurface of the earth to the mouth of the buried body. The souls oflow-caste people soon disappear, but the higher the caste, the longerthe soul stays on earth. Still, the natives have some conception ofa paradise in which the soul of the high-caste finds all bliss anddelight, and which the soul ultimately enters. This idea may havecome up since the arrival of Christianity. It is customary to holda death-feast for a man of no caste after five days, for a low-casteafter one hundred, and for a high-caste after three hundred or evenone thousand days. The soul remains in contact with the world ofthe living, and may be perceived as a good or bad spirit of as muchpower as the man had when alive. To obtain the favour and assistanceof these spirits seems to be the fundamental idea, the main object ofreligion in the New Hebrides. The spirit of an ancestor will naturallyfavour his descendants, unless they have offended him deeply; and themore powerful the dead ancestor was, the stronger and safer do hisdescendants feel under the protection of his spirit. If a man has nopowerful ancestral ghost, he joins some strong clan, and strives forthe favour of its tutelary spirit by means of rich sacrifices. Thespirits admit those who bring many sacrifices to their special favourand intimacy; these people are supposed to have gone half-way to thespirit-world, and even in this life they are dreaded and enormouslyinfluential; for the spirits will help him in every way, the elementsare his servants, and he can perform the most terrible sorceries. Thushe terrorizes the country, becomes chief, and after death he joinsthe other ghosts as a powerful member of their company. 

The "Suque" transferred the hierarchy of the spirit-world into thisworld, and regulated the number of castes and the method of risingin caste; it also originated the rules for entering into connectionwith the other world. Its origin probably goes back to one of thosesecret societies so highly developed in Melanesia, of which I shallspeak later. 

Caste is obtained by sacrificing tusked pigs; it is possible thatthis has taken the place of former human sacrifices. The "Suque" isthe community of all the men who have sacrificed tusked pigs. It isan international society, divided into numerous groups composed of themen of different islands, districts, villages or clans. It is the onlymeans to assure oneself of bliss hereafter, and to obtain power andwealth on earth, and whoever fails to join the "Suque" is an outcast, a man of no importance, without friends and without protectors, whetherliving men or spirits, and therefore exposed to every ill-treatmentand utter contempt. This explains the all-important position of the"Suque" in the life of the natives, being the expression both ofreligion and of ambition. 

Frequently a young boy will join the "Suque, " an uncle on the mother'sside donating pigs to be sacrificed in his name after he has touchedthem with his hand. The boy is then free of the gamal, the "Suque"club-house. Later he works his way up in the society by attendingnumberless feasts and ceremonies, by having endless discussionson tusked pigs, by borrowing, buying and lending pigs, by plottingand sacrificing. 

The number of castes varies on different islands: in Ambrym there arefourteen, in Venua Lava twenty, in Aoba ten. On some islands, Santo, for example, the caste-system is connected with a severe separation ofthe fires; each caste cooks over its own fire, and loses its degree oneating food cooked on the fire of a lower caste. In these districts thefloor of the gamal is frequently marked by bamboo rods or sticks in asmany divisions as there are castes each containing one fireplace. Thehighest castes sit at the front end of the gamal, the lower at theback; these are forbidden to enter the gamal from the front, in ordernot to touch or step over the fireplaces of their superiors. At eachrise in caste the novice receives the new fire, rubbed on a specialstick and decorated with flowers; certain ceremonies attend the cookingof the first food with this new fire. It is then carefully tended inthe fireplace, and if it goes out it has to be rubbed afresh with thestick. The number of pigs necessary to a rise in caste also varieson the different islands. Generally, only tusked pigs are counted, and there are feasts at which as many as forty of these valuableanimals are killed. Naturally, the high-castes cannot keep all theanimals themselves, but they lend them, like money, to those who do notpossess the number needed to rise in caste; in this way a complicatedcredit-system has developed, by which the so-called chiefs supportand strengthen their influence and tyrannize the country. 

A young man, as a rule, owns no tusked pigs. If he wishes to raise hiscaste, he has to borrow from the rich high-castes, who are very willingto help him, but only at exorbitant rates of interest. First he has towin their favour by presents, and then he has to promise to return amore valuable pig later. The bargain made, the transaction takes placepublicly with some ceremony. The population of the district assembles, and all the transactions are ratified which have been negotiated inprivate. The owner holds the pig, the borrower dances around him andthen takes the animal away. All the spectators serve as witnesses, and there is no need of a written bill. In this way nearly all themen of lower rank are in debt to the high-castes, and dependent ontheir goodwill, and these can obtain anything they like, simply bypressing their debtors to pay for their pigs. 

As a rule, the highest castes of a district work together; they arethe high priests, who arrange everything connected with the "Suque, "set the dates for the feasts, and decide whether a man shall bepermitted to raise his caste. They are practically omnipotent, untilone of them rises by still larger sacrifices to a still higher caste, and becomes sole master. If there are no more degrees to reach, thewhole scale is run through again an octave higher, so to speak. Thejaws of the killed pigs are hung up in the gamal in bundles or rows, as a sign of the wealth and power of the proprietor. These chiefsare in connection with the mightiest spirits, have supernatural powerand are as much hated as they are feared. 

There is another independent witchcraft beside the "Suque, " forweather-making, charms and poisoning, which is known to privatemen. They take expensive "lessons" from old sorcerers, and transmittheir art to the young men they consider clever enough, for goodwages. These are the real mischief-makers, for they will lend theirmurderous assistance to anyone for adequate payment. 

In some islands there is also a "Suque" for the women, but it isquite independent of that of the men, and its degrees are easier toreach. Still, women of high rank enjoy a certain consideration fromthe men. 

Real chiefs do not exist in the northern part of the New Hebrides, but the chiefs are the high-castes, who, according to their rank andthe strength of their personality, have more or less influence. Theycannot give direct orders, but rule indirectly through pressure, threats and encouragement. Officially, all decisions are taken in ameeting of the whole "Suque. " The chieftainship is not hereditary, but the sons and especially the nephews of high-castes generallyreach high degrees themselves, being pushed by their relatives, whoare naturally anxious to be surrounded by faithful and influentialfriends. Thus there have risen aristocratic families, who thinkthemselves better than the others, and do not like to mix withcommon people. Daughters of these families command high prices, and are therefore accessible only to rich men, that is, men of highcaste. Young men of less good family are naturally poor, and since awoman, as a rule, costs five pigs, it is almost impossible for themto marry, whereas old men can buy up all the young, pretty girls;the social consequences of this system are obvious. In Vao conditionsare not quite so bad, because there is considerable wealth, and womenare numerous, so that even young men are enabled to have a family;in consequence, the race here is healthier than elsewhere. 

In Vao I had occasion to attend a death-feast. The hero of the daywas still alive and in excellent health; but he did not quite trusthis family, and wishing to make sure that his death-feast would notbe forgotten, he held it during his lifetime. His anxiety about thefeast is explained by the following facts. According to Vao beliefs, the souls of the dead travel to the island of Ambrym, and after fivedays climb a narrow trail up to the volcano. In order that the soulmay not starve on the way, the survivors often make a small canoe, load it with food and push it off into the sea, thinking it will driftafter the soul. It is generally stranded behind the nearest point, bringing the neighbours a welcome addition to the day's rations. Thiscustom is in contradiction to the feeding of the body through a tube, and proves that quite contradictory customs can exist simultaneously, without the natives noticing it. Half-way up the volcano sits amonster with two immense shears, like a crab. If no pigs have beensacrificed for the soul by the fifth day, the poor soul is alone andthe monster swallows it; but if the sacrifice has been performed, the souls of the sacrificed pigs follow after the human soul, and asthe monster prefers pig, the human has time to escape and to reachthe entrance to paradise on top of the volcano, where there are pigs, women, dancing and feasting in plenty. 

The feast I was to attend had been in preparation for some time. On allthe dancing-grounds long bamboos were in readiness, loaded with yamsand flowers, as presents to the host. Everything was brought to hisgamal, and the whole morning passed in distributing the gifts, eachfamily receiving a few yams, a little pig, some sprouted cocoa-nutsand a few rolls of money. This money consists of long, narrow, fringedmats, neatly rolled up; in this case they were supposed to be the matsin which the dead are buried, and which are taken out of the graveafter a while. These mats formerly served as small coin, as similarmats are still used on other islands, and they still represent a valueof about one shilling; but in daily life they have been quite replacedby European coin, and only appear on such ceremonial occasions. 

All the gifts were piled up, and when the host was convinced thatevery guest had received his just dues, he took a stick and smashedthe heads of all the pigs that were tied up in readiness for thisceremony. They struggled for a moment, the dogs came and lickedthe blood, and then each guest took away his portion, to have aprivate feast at home. The whole performance made a desperatelybusiness-like impression, and everything was done most prosaically;as for me, having no better dinner than usual to look forward to, I quite missed the slightly excited holiday feeling that ought to gowith a great feast. Formerly, the braining of the pigs was done withskilfully carved clubs, instead of mere sticks, and this alone musthave given the action something of solemnity; but these clubs havelong since been sold to collectors and never replaced. 

In spite of their frequent intercourse with whites, the people of Vaoare still confirmed cannibals, only they have not many opportunitiesfor gratifying their taste in this direction. Still, not many yearsago, they had killed and eaten an enemy, and each individual, eventhe little children, had received a small morsel of the body to eat, either with the idea of destroying the enemy entirely, or as thegreatest insult that could be offered to him. 

These same people can be so gay, childlike, kind and obliging, tactful and generous, that one can hardly believe the accountsone often hears of sudden outbreaks of brutal savagery, devilishwickedness, ingratitude and falsehood, until one has experienced themhimself. The flattering and confiding child will turn suddenly andwithout apparent reason into a man full of gloom and hatred. Allthose repressing influences which lead the dwellers in civilizedlands to some consistency of action are lacking here, and the moralsof the natives run along other lines than ours. Faith and truth areno virtues, constancy and perseverance do not exist. The same man whocan torture his wife to death from wanton cruelty, holding her limbsover the fire till they are charred, etc. , will be inconsolable overthe death of a son for a long time, and will wear a curl, a tooth ora finger-joint of the dead as a valuable relic round his neck; and thesame man who is capable of preparing a murder in cold blood for days, may, in some propitious evening hour, relate the most charming andpoetic fairy-tales. A priest whom I met knew quite a number of suchstories from a man whom he had digged alive out of the grave, wherehis relatives had buried him, thinking him old enough to die. Thisis not a rare occurrence; sometimes the old people themselves aretired of life and ask to be killed. 

What has preserved the old customs so well on Vao is the aversion ofthe natives to plantation work. But one day, while I was there, a shiprode at anchor off the coast, and a member of the French survey partylanded, collected all the men on the beach, and told them that unlessthere were thirty men on board that evening, the whole tribe wouldbe driven out of the island, as the island belonged to the Frenchcompany. This was, to say the least, extremely doubtful; moreover, it would never have been feasible to expropriate the natives in thissummary way. They were furious, but, unprotected as they were, theyhad to obey, and in the evening nearly all the young men assembledon the beach and were taken away in whale-boats, disappearing in themist and darkness of the night. The old men and the women remainedbehind, crying loudly, so that the terrible wailing sounded sadlyover the sea. Even to the mere spectator it was a tragic moment whenthe tribe was thus orphaned of its best men, and one could not helpbeing revolted by the whole proceeding. It was not womanish pity forthe men who were taken off to work, but regret for the consequentdisappearance of immemorial forms of tribal life. Next day thebeach was empty. Old men and women crossed over to the yam-fields, the little children played as usual, but the gay shouts were silent, the beautiful, brown, supple-bodied young men were gone, and I nolonger felt the joy of living which had been Vao's greatest charm. Theold men were sulky and sad, and spoke of leaving Vao for good andsettling somewhere far inland. It is not surprising that the wholerace has lost the will to live, and that children are considered anundesirable gift, of which one would rather be rid. What hopelessnesslies in the words I once heard a woman of Vao say: "Why should wehave any more children? Since the white man came they all die. " Anddie they certainly do. Regions that once swarmed with people are nowlonely; where, ten years ago, there were large villages, we find thedesert bush, and in some districts the population has decreased byone-third in the last seven years. In fifteen years the native racewill have practically disappeared. 

CHAPTER VI

PORT OLRY AND A "SING-SING"

The event just described reduced my chance of finding servants in Vaoto a minimum, as all the able-bodied young men had been taken away. Itherefore sailed with the missionary for his station at Port Olry. Ourroute lay along the east coast of Santo. Grey rain-clouds hung onthe high mountains in the interior, the sun shone faintly through themisty atmosphere, the greyish-blue sea and the greyish-green shore, with the brown boulders on the beach, formed a study in grey, whosehypnotic effect was increased by a warm, weary wind. Whoever was noton duty at the tiller lay down on deck, and as in a dream we floatedslowly along the coast past lonely islands and bays; whenever we lookedup we saw the same picture, only the outlines seemed to have shifteda little. We anchored near a lonely isle, to find out whether itsonly inhabitant, an old Frenchman, was still alive. He had arrivedthere a year ago, full of the most brilliant hopes, which, however, had not materialized. He had no boat, hardly ever saw a human being, and lived on wild fruits. Hardly anyone knows him or visits him, but he had not lost courage, and asked for nothing but a little salt, which we gave him, and then sailed on. 

In Hog Harbour we spent the night and enjoyed a hearty Englishbreakfast with the planters, the Messrs. Th. , who have a large andbeautiful plantation; then we continued our cruise. The countryhad changed somewhat; mighty banks of coral formed high tablelandsthat fell vertically down to the sea, and the living reef stretchedseaward under the water. These tablelands were intersected by flatvalleys, in the centre of which rose steep hills, like huge bastionsdominating the country round. The islands off the coast were coveredwith thick vegetation, with white chalk cliffs gleaming through themat intervals. A thin mist filled the valleys with violet hues, thesea was bright and a fresh breeze carried us gaily along. The aspectof the country displayed the energies of elemental powers: nowhere canthe origin of chalk mountains be more plainly seen than here, where wehave the process before us in all its stages, from the living reef, shining purple through the sea, to the sandy beach strewn with bitsof coral, to the high table mountain. We anchored at a headland neara small river, and were cordially welcomed by the missionary's dogs, cats, pigs and native teacher. There was also a young girl whom thefather had once dug out of her grave, where a hard-hearted motherhad buried her. 

I had an extremely interesting time at Port Olry. The populationhere is somewhat different from that of the rest of Santo: verydark-skinned, tall and different in physiognomy. It may be calledtypically Melanesian, while many other races show Polynesianadmixture. The race here is very strong, coarse-featured and livesin the simplest way, without any industries, and is the primitivepopulation in the New Hebrides. 

A few details as to personal appearance may be of interest. Among theornaments used are very large combs, decorated with pigs' tails. Pigs'tails also are stuck into the hair and ears. The hair is worn verylong, rolled into little curls and plentifully oiled. A most peculiardeformation is applied to the nose and results in extreme ugliness:the septum is perforated, and instead of merely inserting a stick, a springy spiral is used, which presses the nose upward and forward, so that in time it develops into an immense, shapeless lump, as ifnumberless wasps had stung it. It takes a long time to get used tothis sight, especially as the nose is made still more conspicuousby being painted with a bright red stripe on its point, and twoblack ones on each side. A more attractive ornament are flowers, which the men stick into their hair, where they are very effectiveon the dark background. In the lobes of the ears they wear spiralsof tortoise-shell or thin ornaments of bone; the men often painttheir faces with a mixture of soot and grease, generally the upperhalf of the forehead, the lower part of the cheeks and the back ofthe nose. The women and children prefer the red juice of a fruit, with which they paint their faces in all sorts of mysterious designs. 

The dress of the men consists of a large belt, purposely worn very lowso as to show the beautiful curve of the loins. About six small matshang down in front. Formerly, and even at the present day on festivaloccasions, they wore on the back an ovoid of wood; the purpose isquite unknown, but may originally have been a portable seat, as theMelanesian does not like to sit on the bare ground. Provided withthis article of dress the wearer did not need to look about for a seat. 

If the appearance of the men, while not beautiful, is at leastimpressive, the women are so very much disfigured that it takesquite some time to grow accustomed to their style of beauty. Theyare not allowed to wear many ornaments, have to shave their heads, and generally rub them with lime, so that they look rather likewhite-headed vultures, all the more so as the deformed nose protrudeslike a beak and the mouth is large. The two upper incisors are brokenout as a sign of matrimony. 

Their figures, except in young girls, are generally wasted, yet one occasionally meets with a woman of fine and symmetricalbuild. The dress is restricted to a small leaf, attached to a thinloin-string. Both men and women generally wear at the back a bundle ofleaves; women and boys have strongly scented herbs, the men colouredcroton, the shade depending on the caste of the wearer. The highestcastes wear the darkest, nearly black, varieties. These croton bushesare planted along the sides of the gamals, so as to furnish the men'sornaments; and they lend the sombre places some brightness and colour. 

Half for ornament and half for purposes of healing are the largescars which may frequently be seen on the shoulders or breasts ofthe natives. The cuts are supposed to cure internal pains; the scabsare frequently scratched off, until the scar is large and high, and may be considered ornamental. Apropos of this medical detailI may mention another remedy, for rheumatism: with a tiny bow andarrow a great number of small cuts are shot into the skin of thepart affected; the scars from these wounds form a network of fine, hardly noticeable designs on the skin. 

The life and cult of the natives are as simple as their dress. Thehouses are scattered and hidden in the bush, grouped vaguely aroundthe gamal, which stands alone on a bare square. No statues stand there, nor tall, upright drums; only a few small drums lie in a puddle aroundthe gamal. 

The dwelling-houses are simply gable-roofs, always without side-wallsand often without any walls at all. They are divided into a pig-stableand a living-room, unless the owners prefer to have their pigs livingin the same space with themselves. 

A few flat wooden dishes are the only implements the native doesnot find ready-made in nature. Cooking is done with heated stonesheaped around the food, which has been previously wrapped up inbanana leaves. Lime-stones naturally cannot be used for that purpose, and volcanic stones have often to be brought from quite a distance, so that these cooking-stones are treated with some care. In place ofknives the natives use shells or inland bamboo-splinters, but bothare rapidly being replaced by European knives. 

On approaching a village we are first frightened by a few pigs, whichrun away grunting and scolding into the thicket. Then a pack of dogsannounce our arrival, threatening us with hypocritical zeal. A fewchildren, playing in the dirt among the pigs, jump up and run away, then slowly return, take us by the hand and stare into our faces. Atnoon we will generally find all the men assembled in the gamal making"lap-lap. " Lap-lap is the national dish of the natives of the NewHebrides; quite one-fifth part of their lives is spent in makingand eating lap-lap. The work is not strenuous. The cook sits on theground and rubs the fruit, yam or taro, on a piece of rough coral or apalm-sheath, thus making a thick paste, which is wrapped up in bananaleaves and cooked between stones. After a few hours' cooking it lookslike a thick pudding and does not taste at all bad. For flavouring, cocoa-nut milk is poured over it, or it is mixed with cabbage, grease, nuts, roasted and ground, or occasionally with maggots. Besides thisprincipal dish, sweet potatoes, manioc, bread-fruit, pineapples, bananas, etc. , are eaten in season, and if the natives were lesscareless, they would never need to starve, as frequently happens. 

The men are not much disturbed by our arrival. They offer us a log tosit on, and continue to rub their yam, talking us over the while. Theyseem to be a very peaceful and friendly crowd, yet in this districtthey are particularly cruel and treacherous, and only a few daysafter my departure war broke out. The gamal is bare, except for afew wooden dishes hanging in the roof, and weapons of all kinds, notin full sight, but ready at any moment. We can see rifles, arrows andclubs. The clubs are very simple, either straight or curved sticks. Oldpieces are highly valued, and carry marks indicating how many victimshave been killed with them: I saw one club with sixty-seven of thesemarks. In former years the spear with about two hundred and fiftypoints of human bones was much used, but is now quite replaced bythe rifle. The bones for spear-points and arrow-heads are taken fromthe bodies of dead relatives and high-castes. The corpse is buried inthe house, and when it is decayed the bones of the limbs are dug out, split, polished and used for weapons. The idea is that the courage andskill of the dead man may be transmitted to the owner of the weapon, also, that the dead man may take revenge on his murderer, as everydeath is considered to have been caused by some enemy. These bonesare naturally full of the poisons of the corpse, and may cause tetanusat the slightest scratch. On the arrows they are extremely sharp andonly slightly attached to the wood, so that they stick in the fleshand increase the inflammation. Besides, they are often dipped in somespecial poison. 

All over the archipelago the arrows are very carefully made, andalmost every island has its own type, although they all resembleeach other. Many are covered at the point with a fine spiral binding, and the small triangles thus formed are painted in rows--red, greenand white. Much less care is bestowed on the fish- and bird-arrows, which are three-pointed as a rule, and often have no point at all, but only a knob, so as to stun the bird and not to stick in thebranches of the trees. 

Shields are unknown. It would seem that the arrow was not, aselsewhere, the principal weapon, but rather the spear and club, and the wars were not very deadly, as the natives' skill in handlingtheir weapons was equalled by their skill in dodging them. 

Having inspected the gamal, we received from the highest caste presenta gift of some yam, or taro, which we requited with some sticks oftobacco. The length of the gamal depends on the caste of the chiefwho builds it. I saw a gamal 60 mètres long, and while this lengthseems senseless to-day, because of the scanty population, it wasnecessary in former days, when the number of a man's followers rosewith his rank. Not many years ago these houses were filled at nightwith sleeping warriors, each with his weapons at hand, ready for afight. To-day these long, dark, deserted houses are too dismal forthe few remaining men, so that they generally build a small gamalbeside the big one. 

To have killed a man, no matter in what way, is a great honour, and gives the right to wear a special plume of white and blackfeathers. Such plumes are not rare in Port Olry. 

Each man has his own fire, and cooks his own food; for, as I havesaid, it would mean the loss of caste to eat food cooked on thefire of a lower caste. Women are considered unworthy to cook a man'smeal; in fact, their standing here is probably the lowest in all thearchipelago. Still, they do not lack amusement; they gather like themen for social carousals, and are giggling and chattering all daylong. Their principal occupation is the cultivation of the fields, but where Nature is so open-handed this is not such a task as we mightthink when we see them coming home in the afternoon, panting underan immense load of fruit, with a pile of firewood on top, a child ontheir back and possibly dragging another by the hand. Port Olry is theonly place in the New Hebrides where the women carry loads on theirheads. Everywhere else they carry them on their backs in baskets ofcocoa-nut leaves. In consequence the women here are remarkable fortheir erect and supple carriage. 

The work in the fields consists merely of digging out the yam andpicking other fruit, and it is a sociable affair, with much talking andlaughter. There is always something to eat, such as an unripe cocoa-nutor a banana. Serious work is not necessary except at the plantingseason, when the bush has to be cleared. Then a whole clan usuallyworks together, the men helping quite energetically, until the fieldsare fenced in and ready for planting; then they hold a feast, a big"kai-kai, " and leave the rest of the work to the women. The fences aremade to keep out the pigs, and are built in the simplest way: sticksof the wild cotton-wood tree, which grows rankly everywhere, are stuckinto the ground at short intervals; they immediately begin to sprout, and after a short time form a living and impenetrable hedge. But theylast much longer than is necessary, so that everywhere the fencesof old gardens bar the road and force the traveller to make endlessdetours, all the more so as the natives have a way of making theirfields right across the paths whenever it suits them. 

The number of women here amounts only to about one-fourth of thatof the men. One reason for this is the custom of killing all thewidows of a chief, a custom which was all the more pernicious as thechiefs, as a rule, owned most of the young females, while the youngmen could barely afford to buy an old widow. Happily this custom isdying out, owing to the influence of the planters and missionaries;they appealed, not unwisely, to the sensuality of the young men, whowere thus depriving themselves of the women. Strange to say, the womenwere not altogether pleased with this change, many desiring to die, for fear they might be haunted by the offended spirit of their husband. 

When a chief died, the execution did not take place at once. Thebody was exposed in a special little hut in the thicket, and left todecay, which process was hastened by the climate and the flies. Thena death-feast was prepared, and the widows, half frantic with maddancing and howling, were strangled. 

Ordinary people are buried in their own houses, which generally decayafterwards. Often the widow had to sleep beside the decaying bodyfor one hundred days. 

Being short of boys, I could not visit many of the villages inland, and I stayed on at the mission station, where there was generallysomething for me to do, as the natives frequently came loiteringabout the station. I made use of their presence as much as possiblefor anthropological measurements, but I could not always find willingsubjects. Everything depends on the humour of the crowd; if they makefun of the first victim, the case is lost, as no second man is willingto be the butt of the innumerable gibes showered on the person underthe instruments. Things are more favourable if it is only fear ofsome dangerous enchantment that holds them back, for then persuasionand liberal gifts of tobacco generally overcome their fears. The bestsubjects are those who pretend to understand the scientific meaningof the operation, or the utterly indifferent, who never think aboutit at all, are quite surprised to be suddenly presented with tobacco, and go home, shaking their heads over the many queer madnesses of whitemen. I took as many photographs as possible, and my pictures made quitea sensation. Once, when I showed his portrait to one of the dandieswith the oiled and curled wig, he ran away with a cry of terror at hisundreamt-of ugliness, and returned after a short while with his haircut. His deformed nose, however, resisted all attempts at restoration. 

The natives showed great reluctance in bringing me skulls andskeletons. As the bones decay very quickly in the tropics, only skullsof people recently deceased can be had. The demon, or soul, of thedead is supposed to be too lively as yet to be wantonly offended; inany case, one dislikes to disturb one's own relatives, while thereis less delicacy about those of others. Still, in course of time, I gathered quite a good collection of skulls at the station. Theywere brought carefully wrapped up in leaves, fastened with lianas, and tied to long sticks, with which the bearer held the disgustingobject as far from him as possible. The bundles were laid down, andthe people watched with admiring disgust as I untied the ropes andhandled the bones as one would any other object. Everything that hadtouched the bones became to the natives an object of the greatestawe; still they enjoyed pushing the leaves that had wrapped themup under the feet of an unsuspecting friend, who presently, warnedof the danger, escaped with a terrified shriek and a wild jump. Itwould seem that physical disgust had as much to do with all this asreligious fear, although the natives show none of this disgust athandling the remains of pigs. Naturally, the old men were the mostsuperstitious; the young ones were more emancipated, some of themeven going the length of picking up a bone with their toes. 

Most of them had quite a similar dread of snakes, but some men handledthem without much fear, and brought me large specimens, which theyhad caught in a sling and then wrapped up in leaves. While I killedand skinned a big snake, a large crowd always surrounded me, everready for flight, and later my boys chased them with the empty skin, a performance which always ended in great laughing and dancing. 

I had been in Port Olry for three weeks, waiting anxiously everyday for the Marie-Henry, which was to bring the luggage I had leftbehind at the Segond Channel. My outfit began to be insufficient;what I needed most was chemicals for the preservation of my zoologicalspecimens, which I had plenty of time and occasion to collect here. Oneday the Marie-Henry, a large schooner, arrived, but my luggage had beenforgotten. I was much disappointed, as I saw no means of recoveringit in the near future. The Marie-Henry was bound for Talamacco, in Big Bay, and took the Rev. Father and myself along. 

One of the passengers was Mr. F. , a planter and trader inTalamacco, and we soon became good friends with him and some of theothers. Mr. F. Was very kind, and promised to use all his influence tohelp me find boys. The weather was bad, and we had to tack about allnight; happily, we were more comfortable on the big schooner than onthe little cutters. At Talamacco Mr. F. Offered us his hospitality, and as it rained continually, we were very glad to stay in hishouse, spending the time in sipping gin and winding up a hoarsegramophone. Thus two lazy days passed, during which our host wasconstantly working for me, sending his foreman, the "moli, " to allthe neighbouring villages, with such good results that at last I wasable to engage four boys for two months. I took them on board at once, well pleased to have the means, at last, of moving about independently. 

We sailed in the evening, and when, next morning, we rounded CapeQuiros, we found a heavy sea, so that the big ship pitched andploughed with dull hissing through the foaming waves. She lay aslantunder the pressure of the wind that whistled in the rigging, and thefull curve of the great sails was a fine sight; but it was evidentthat the sails and ropes were in a very rotten condition, and soon, with anxious looks, we followed the growth of a tear in the mainsail, wondering whether the mast would stand the strain. A heavy sea brokethe rudder, and altogether it was high time to land when we enteredPort Olry in the late afternoon. 

A few days later I started for Hog Harbour, for the plantationof the Messrs. Th. , near which I meant to attend a great feast, or "sing-sing. " This meant a march of several hours through thebush. My boys had all put on their best finery, --trousers, shirts, gay handkerchiefs, --and had painted their hair with fresh lime. 

"Well, boys, are you ready?" "Yes, Masta, " they answer, withconviction, though they are far from ready, as they are still tyingtheir bundles. After waiting a while, I say, "Well, me, me go. " Theyanswer, "All right, you go. " I take a few steps and wait again. Oneof them appears in front of the hut to look for a stick to hang hisbundle on, another cannot find his pipe; still, after a quarter of anhour, we can really start. The boys sing and laugh, but as we enterthe forest darkness they suddenly become quiet, as if the sternnessof the bush oppressed their souls. We talk but little, and only inundertones. These woods have none of the happy, sensuous luxuriancewhich fancy lends to every tropical forest; there is a harshness, a selfish struggle for the first place among the different plants, adeadly battling for air and light. Giant trees with spreading crownssuppress everything around, kill every rival and leave only smalland insignificant shrubs alive. Between them, smaller trees strivefor light; on tall, straight, thin stems they have secured a place anddeveloped a crown. Others look for light in roundabout ways, making useof every gap their neighbours leave, and rise upward in soft coils. Allthese form a high roof, under which younger and weaker plants lead askimped life--hardwood trees on thin trunks, with small, unassumingleaves, and vulgar softwood with large, flabby foliage. Around andacross all this wind the parasites, lianas, rotang, some stretchedlike ropes from one trunk to another, some rising in elegant curvesfrom the ground, some attached to other trunks and sucking out theirlife with a thousand roots, others interlaced in the air in distortedcurves. All these grow and thrive on the bodies of former generationson the damp, mouldy ground, where leaves rot and trunks decay, andwhere it is always wet, as never a sunbeam can strike in so far. 

Thus it is sad in the forest, and strangely quiet, as in a churchyard, for not even the wind can penetrate the green surface. It passesrushing through the crowns, so that sometimes we catch an upwardglimpse of bright yellow sunshine as though out of a deep gully. Andas men in sternest fight are silent, using all their energy for onepurpose, so here there is no sign of gay and happy life, there areno flowers or coloured leaves, but the endless, dull green, in aninfinity of shapes. 

Even the animals seem to shun the dark forest depths; only on thehighest trees a few pigeons bathe in the sun, and as they fly heavilyover the wood, their call sounds, melancholy as a sad dream, fromafar. A lonely butterfly flutters among the trees, a delicate being, unused to this dark world, seeking in vain for a ray of sun and abreath of fresh air. Sometimes we hear the grunt of an invisiblepig, the breaking of branches and the rustling of leaves as it runsaway. Moisture and lowering gloom brood over the swampy earth; onewould not be surprised if suddenly the ground were to move and wrigglelike slimy snakes tightly knotted around each other. Thorns catch thelimbs, vines catch the feet, and the wanderer, stumbling along, almostfancies he can hear the spiteful laughter of malicious demons. Onefeels tired, worried, unsafe, as if in an enemy's country, helplesslyfollowing the guide, who walks noiselessly on the soft ground. Witha branch he sweeps aside the innumerable spider-webs that droopacross the path, to keep them from hanging in our faces. Silentlythe other men follow behind; once in a while a dry branch snaps ora trunk creaks. 

In this dark monotony we go on for hours, without an outlook, andseemingly without purpose or direction, on a hardly visible path, inan endless wilderness. We pass thousands of trees, climb over hundredsof fallen trunks and brush past millions of creepers. Sometimes weenter a clearing, where a giant tree has fallen or a village used tostand. Sometimes great coral rocks lie in the thicket; the pools attheir foot are a wallowing-place for pigs. 

It is a confusing walk; one feels quite dizzy with the constantlypassing stems and branches, and a white man would be lost in thiswilderness without the native, whose home it is. He sees everything, every track of beast or bird, and finds signs on every tree and vine, peculiarities of shape or grouping, which he recognizes with unerringcertainty. He describes the least suggestion of a trail, a footprint, or a knife-cut, or a torn leaf. As the white man finds his way abouta city by means of street signs, so the savage reads his directionsin the forest from the trees and the ground. He knows every plant andits uses, the best wood for fires; he knows when he may expect to findwater, and which liana makes the strongest rope. Yet even he seemsto feel something of the appalling loneliness of the primeval forest. 

Our path leads steeply up and down, over loose coral blocks, betweenferns and mosses; lianas serve as ropes to help us climb over coralrocks, and with our knives we hew a passage through thorny creepersand thick bush. The road runs in zigzags, sometimes turning backto go round fallen trunks and swampy places, so that we really walkthree or four times the distance to Hog Harbour. Our guide uses hisbush-knife steadily and to good purpose: he sees where the creepersinterlace and which branch is the chief hindrance, and in a few deftcuts the tangle falls. 

At last--it seems an eternity since we dived into the forest--we hearfrom afar, through the green walls, a dull roaring, and as we go on, we distinguish the thunder of the breakers like the beating of a greatpulse. Suddenly the thicket lightens, and we stand on the beach, blinded by the splendour of light that pours on us, but breathingfreely in the fresh air that blows from the far horizon. We should liketo stretch out on the sand and enjoy the free space after the forestgloom; but after a short rest we go on, for this is only half-way toour destination, and we dive once more into the semi-darkness. 

Towards evening we reach the plantation of the Messrs. Th. They areAustralians of good family, and their place is splendidly kept. Iwas struck by the cleanliness of the whole establishment, the goodquarters of the native labourers, the quiet way in which work wasdone, the pleasant relations between masters and hands, and last, but not least, the healthy and happy appearance of the latter. 

The brothers had just finished the construction of what was quite avillage, its white lime walls shining invitingly through the greenof the cocoa-nut palms. There was a large kitchen, a storehouse, atool-shed, a bakery, a dwelling-house and a light, open summer-house, a delightful spot, where we dined in the cool sea-breeze and sippedwhisky in the moonlight, while the palm-leaves waved dreamily. Thenthere was a large poultry yard, pigsty and paddocks, and along thebeach were the boat-houses, drying-sheds and storehouses, shaded byold trees. The boys' quarters were roomy, eight sleeping together inan airy hut, while the married couples had houses of their own. Theboys slept on high beds, each with his "bocase" underneath, to hold hispossessions, while all sorts of common property hung in the roof--nets, fish-spears, bows, guns, etc. 

Such plantations, where the natives lack neither food nor goodtreatment, can only have a favourable influence on the race, and it isnot quite clear why the Presbyterian missionaries do not like theiryoung men to go in for plantation work. Owing to the good treatmentof their hands the Messrs. Th. Have always had enough labourers, andhave been able to develop their plantation wonderfully. It consistsalmost exclusively of cocoa-nut palms, planted on ground wrested fromthe forest in a hard fight. When I was there the trees were not yet infull bearing, but the proprietors had every reason to expect a veryconsiderable income in a few years. The cultivation of the cocoa-nutis extremely simple; the only hard work is the first clearing of theground, and keeping the young trees free from lianas. Once they aregrown up, they are able to keep down the bush themselves to a certainextent, and then the work consists in picking up the ripe nuts fromthe ground, husking and drying them. The net profit from one treeis estimated at one shilling per annum. Besides the cultivation oftheir plantation the Messrs. Th. Plied a flourishing trade in coprahand sandalwood all along the west coast of Santo, which they visitedfrequently in their cutter. This same cutter was often a great help tome, and, indeed, her owners always befriended me in the most generousway, and many are the pleasant hours I spent in their company. 

After dinner that first day we went to the village where the"sing-sing" was to take place. There was no moon, and the night waspitch dark. The boys had made torches of palm-leaves, which theykept burning by means of constant swinging. They flared up in dull, red flames, lighting up the nearest surroundings, and we wound ourway upwards through the trunk vines and leaves that nearly shut inthe path. It seemed as if we were groping about without a direction, as if looking for a match in a dark room. Soon, however, we heardthe dull sound of the drums, and the noise led us to the plateau, till we could see the red glare of a fire and hear the rough voicesof men and the shrill singing of women. 

Unnoticed, we entered the dancing-ground. A number of men were standingin a circle round a huge fire, their silhouettes cutting sharply intothe red glare. Out of a tangle of clubs, rifles, plumes, curly wigs, round heads, bows and violently gesticulating arms, sounds an irregularshrieking, yelling, whistling and howling, uniting occasionally toa monotonous song. The men stamp the measure, some begin to whirlabout, others rush towards the fire; now and then a huge log breaksin two and crowns the dark, excited crowd with a brilliant column ofcircling sparks. Then everybody yells delightedly, and the shoutingand dancing sets in with renewed vigour. Everyone is hoarse, pantingand covered with perspiration, which paints light streaks on thesooty faces and bodies. 

Noticing us, a man rushes playfully towards us, threateningly swinginghis club, his eyes and teeth shining in the darkness; then he returnsto the shouting, dancing mob around the fire. Half-grown boys sneakthrough the crowd; they are the most excited of all, and stamp theground wildly with their disproportionately large feet, kicking andshrieking in unpleasant ecstasy. All this goes on among the guests;the hosts keep a little apart, near a scaffolding, on which yams areattached. The men circle slowly round this altar, carrying decoratedbamboos, with which they mark the measure, stamping them on the groundwith a thud. They sing a monotonous tune, one man starting and theothers joining in; the dance consists of slow, springy jumps fromone foot to the other. 

On two sides of this dancing circle the women stand in line, paintedall over with soot. When the men's deep song is ended, they chant thesame melody with thin, shrill voices. Once in a while they join inthe dance, taking a turn with some one man, then disappearing; theyare all much excited; only a few old hags stand apart, who are pastworldly pleasures, and have known such feasts for many, many years. 

The whole thing looks grotesque and uncanny, yet the pleasure in merenoise and dancing is childish and harmless. The picture is imposing andbeautiful in its simplicity, gruesome in its wildness and sensuality, and splendid with the red lights which play on the shining, nakedbodies. In the blackness of the night nothing is visible but thatred-lit group of two or three hundred men, careless of to-morrow, given up entirely to the pleasure of the moment. The spectacle lastsall night, and the crowd becomes more and more wrought up, the leapsof the dancers wilder, the singing louder. We stand aside, incapableof feeling with these people or sharing their joy, realizing thattheirs is a perfectly strange atmosphere which will never be ours. 

Towards morning we left, none too early, for a tremendous shower camedown and kept on all next morning. I went up to the village again, tofind a most dismal and dejected crowd. Around the square, in the dampforest, seedy natives stood and squatted in small groups, shiveringwith cold and wet. Some tried to warm themselves around fires, butwith poor success. Bored and unhappy, they stared at us as we passed, and did not move. Women and children had made umbrellas of large flatleaves, which they carried on their heads; the soot which had formedtheir festival dress was washed off by the rain. The square itselfwas deserted, save for a pack of dogs and a few little boys, rollingabout in the mud puddles. Once in a while an old man would come outof the gamal, yawn and disappear. In short, it was a lendemain defête of the worst kind. 

About once in a quarter of an hour a man would come to bring a tuskedpig to the chief, who danced a few times round the animal, stamped hisheel on the ground, uttered certain words, and retired with short, stiff steps, shaking his head, into the gamal. The morning was overby the time all the pigs were ready. I spent most of the time out ofdoors, rather than in the gamal, for there many of the dancers of theevening lay in all directions and in most uncomfortable positions, beside and across each other, snoring, shivering or staring sulkilyinto dark corners. I was offered a log to sit on, and it might havebeen quite acceptable had not one old man, trembling with cold, pressed closely against me to get warm, and then, half asleep, attempted to lay his shaggy, oil-soaked head on my shoulder, whilelegions of starved fleas attacked my limbs, forcing me to beat ahasty though belated retreat. 

In the afternoon about sixty pigs were tied to poles in front ofthe gamal, and the chief took an old gun-barrel and smashed theirheads. They represented a value of about six hundred pounds! Dogsand men approached the quivering victims, the dogs to lick the bloodthat ran out of their mouths, the men to carry the corpses away forthe feast. This was the prosaic end of the great "sing-sing. "

As it is not always easy to borrow the number of pigs necessary to risein caste, there are charms which are supposed to help in obtainingthem. Generally, these are curiously shaped stones, sometimes carvedin the shape of a pig, and are carried in the hand or in little basketsin the belt. Such charms are, naturally, very valuable, and are handeddown for generations or bought for large sums. On this occasion the"big fellow-master" had sacrificed enough to attain a very high casteindeed, and had every reason to hold up his head with great pride. 

Formerly, these functions were generally graced with a special feature, in the shape of the eating of a man. As far as is known, the lastcannibal meal took place in 1906; the circumstances were these: Someyoung men were walking through the forest, carrying their Sniderrifles, loaded and cocked as usual, on their shoulders. Unluckily, one of the rifles went off, and killed the man behind, the son ofan influential native. Everyone was aware that the death was purelyaccidental, but the father demanded a considerable indemnity. The"murderer, " a poor and friendless youth, was unable to pay, and fled toa neighbouring village. He was received kindly enough, but his hostssent secretly to the offended father to ask what they were to do withhim. "Kill him and eat him, " was the reply. They therefore prepared agreat feast, in honour, as they said, of their beloved guest, and whilehe was sitting cheerfully near the fire, in anticipation of the goodmeal to come, they killed him from behind with an axe. The body wasroasted, and the people of his village were asked to the feast. Oneman had received the forearm and hand, and while he was chewing themuscles and pulling away at the inflectors of the fingers, the handclosed and scratched his cheek, --"all same he alive, "--whereupon thehorrified guest threw his morsel away and fled into the forest. 

On my return to Port Olry I found that the Father had gone to visita colleague, as his duties did not take up much of his time. Hispost at Port Olry was rather a forlorn hope, as the natives showed noinclination to become converts, especially not in connection with thepoor Roman Catholic mission, which could not offer them any externaladvantages, like the rich and powerful Presbyterian mission. Allthe priests lived in the greatest poverty, in old houses, with veryfew servants. The one here had, besides a teacher from Malekula, an old native who had quarrelled with his chief and separated fromhis clan. The good man was very anxious to marry, but no girl wouldhave him, as he had had two wives, and had, quite without malice, strangled his second wife by way of curing her of an illness. I wasreminded of this little episode every time I looked at the man's long, bony fingers. 

One day a native asked me for medicine for his brother. I tried to findout the nature of the ailment, and decided to give him calomel, urginghis brother to take it to him at once. The man had eaten a quarter ofa pig all by himself, but, of course, it was said that he had beenpoisoned. His brother, instead of hurrying home, had a little visitwith his friends at the coast, until it was dark and he was afraid togo home through the bush alone; so he waited till next morning, whenit was too late. The man's death naturally made the murder theorya certainty, so the body was not buried, but laid out in the hut, with all sorts of finery. Around it, in spite of the fearful odour, all the women sat for ten days, in a cloud of blow-flies. They burnedstrong-scented herbs to kill the smell, and dug a little trench acrossthe floor, in order to keep the liquids from the decaying corpse fromrunning into the other half of the house. The nose and mouth of thebody were stopped up with clay and lime, probably to keep the soulfrom getting out, and the body was surrounded by a little hut. In thegamal close by sat all the men, sulky, revengeful, and planning war, which, in fact, broke out within a few days after my departure. 

The Messrs. Th. Had been kind enough to invite me to go on a recruitingtrip to Maevo, the most north-easterly island of the group. Here Ifound a very scanty population, showing many traces of Polynesianadmixture in appearance and habits. The weather was nasty and ourluck at recruiting poor, so that after a fortnight we returned toHog Harbour. I went to Port Olry to my old priest's house, and a fewdays later Mr. Th. Came in his cutter to take me to Tassimaloun inBig Bay; so I bade a hearty farewell to the good Father, whom I havenever had the pleasure of meeting again. 

CHAPTER VII

SANTO

There are hardly any natives left in the south of the Bay ofSt. Philip and St. James, generally called Big Bay. Only to thenorth of Talamacco there are a few villages, in which the remnantsof a once numerous population, mostly converts of the Presbyterianmission, have collected. It is a very mixed crowd, without otherorganization than that which the mission has created, and that isnot much. There are a few chiefs, but they have even less authoritythan elsewhere, and the feeling of solidarity is lacking entirely, so that I have hardly ever found a colony where there was so muchintrigue, immorality and quarrelling. A few years ago the populationhad been kept in order by a Presbyterian missionary of the stern andcruel type; but he had been recalled, and his place was taken by a manquite unable to cope with the lawlessness of the natives, so that everyvice developed freely, and murders were more frequent than in heathendistricts. Matters were not improved by the antagonism between theRoman Catholic and Presbyterian missions and the traders; each workedagainst the others, offering the natives the best of opportunities tofish in troubled waters. The result of all this was a rapid decreaseof the population and frequent artificial sterility. The primitivepopulation has disappeared completely in some places, and is only tobe found in any numbers far inland among the western mountains. Thesituation is a little better in the north, where we find a number offlourishing villages along the coast around Cape Cumberland. 

The nearest village to Talamacco was Tapapa. Sanitary conditionsthere were most disheartening, as at least half of the inhabitantswere leprous, and most of them suffered from tuberculosis orelephantiasis. I saw hardly any children, so that the village willshortly disappear, like so many others. 

Native customs along the coast are much the same as at Port Olry, butless primitive, and the houses are better built. There is wood-carving, or was. I found the doorposts of old gamals beautifully carved, andplates prettily decorated; but these were all antiques, and nothingof the kind is made at the present day. 

The race, however, is quite different from that around Port Olry. Thereare two distinct types: one, Melanesian, dark, tall or short, thin, curly-haired, with a broad nose and a brutal expression; and onethat shows distinct traces of Polynesian blood in its finer face, a larger body, which is sometimes fat, light skin and frequentlystraight hair. Just where this Polynesian element comes from itis hard to say, but the islands in general are very favourable torace-mixture along the coasts. As I said before, the Melanesian typeshows two distinct varieties, a tall dark one, and a short lightone. At first I did not realize the significance of the latter untilI became aware of the existence of a negroid element, of which I sawclear traces. The two varieties, however, are much intermingled, andthe resulting blends have mixed with the Polynesian-Melanesian type, so that the number of types is most confusing, and it will be hardto determine the properties of the original one. 

Finding little of interest in the immediate surroundings ofTalamacco, I determined to make an excursion into the interior of theisland. Mr. F. Put his foreman, or moli, at my disposal, and he engagedmy bearers, made himself useful during the trip in superintendingthe boys, and proved valuable in every way, as he was never afraid, and was known to nearly all the inland chiefs. 

After a rainy spell of six weeks we had a clear day at last; andalthough the weather could not be taken into consideration when makingmy plans, still, the bright sunshine created that happy and expectantsensation which belongs to the beginning of a journey. The monthlysteamer had arrived the day before, had shipped a little coprah, andbrought some provisions for the trader and myself. I had completedmy preparations, engaged my boys and was ready to start. 

In the white glare of a damp morning we pulled from the western shoreof Big Bay to the mouth of the Jordan River. The boat was crampedand overloaded, and we were all glad to jump ashore after a row ofseveral hours. The boys carried the luggage ashore and pulled theboat up into the bush with much noise and laughter. Then we settleddown in the shade for our first meal, cooking being an occupation ofwhich the boys are surprisingly fond. Their rations are rice and tea, with a tin of meat for every four. This discussed, we packed up, and began our march inland. 

The road leads through a thin bush, over rough coral boulders andgravel deposited by the river. We leave the Jordan to our right, and march south-east. After about an hour we come to a swampyplain, covered with tall reed-grass. Grassy plains are an unusualsight in Santo; the wide expanse of yellowish green is surroundedby dark walls of she-oak, in the branches of which hang thousandsof flying-foxes. At a dirty pond we fill our kettles with greenishwater, for our night camp will be on the mountain slope ahead of us, far from any spring. Even the moli has to carry a load of water, as Ican hardly ask the boys to take any more. He feels rather humiliated, as a moli usually carries nothing but a gun, but he is good enough tosee the necessity of the case, and condescends to carry a small kettle. 

Straight ahead are the high coral plateaux across which our roadlies. While we tackle the ascent, the sky has become overcast, thegay aspect of the landscape has changed to sad loneliness and a heavyshower soaks us to the skin. The walk through the jungle is trying, and even the moli loses the way now and again. Towards nightfallwe enter a high forest with but little underbrush, and work our wayslowly up a steep and slippery slope to an overhanging coral rock, where we decide to camp. We have lost our way, but as night is closingin fast, we cannot venture any farther. 

The loads are thrown to the ground in disorder, and the boys dropdown comfortably; strong language on my part is needed before theymake up their minds to pile up the luggage, collect wood and beginto cook. Meanwhile my own servant has prepared my bed and dried myclothes. Soon it is quite dark, the boys gather round the fires, and donot dare to go into the yawning darkness any more, for fear of ghosts. 

The rain has ceased, and the soft damp night air hangs in thetrees. The firelight is absorbed by the darkness, and only the nearestsurroundings shine in its red glare; the boys are stretched out inqueer attitudes round the fire on the hard rocks. Soon I turn out thelamp and lie listening to the night, where vague life and movementcreeps through the trunks. Sometimes a breath of wind shivers throughthe trees, shaking heavy drops from the leaves. A wild pig grunts, moths and insects circle round the fires, and thousands of mosquitoeshum about my net and sing me to sleep. Once in a while I am rousedby the breaking of a rotten tree, or a mournful cry from one of thedreaming boys; or one of them wakes up, stirs the fire, turns over andsnores on. Long before daybreak a glorious concert of birds welcomesthe new day. Half asleep, I watch the light creep across the sky, while the bush is still in utter darkness; suddenly, like a bugle-call, the first sunbeams strike the trees and it is broad day. 

Chilly and stiff, the boys get up and crowd round the fires. Aswe have no more water there is no tea, and breakfast is reduced todry biscuits. The moli has found the lost trail by this time, and wecontinue the ascent. On the plateau we again strike nearly impenetrablebush, and lose the trail again, so that after a few hours' hard workwith the knives we have to retrace our steps for quite a distance. Itis a monotonous climb, varied only by an occasional shot at a wildpig and fair sport with pigeons. Happily for the thirsty boys, westrike a group of bamboos, which yield plenty of water. All thatis needed is to cut the joint of the stems, and out of each sectionflows a pint of clear water, which the boys collect by holding theirhuge mouths under the opening. Their clothes are soaked, but theirthirst is satisfied and our kettles filled for the midday meal. 

Presently we pass a native "camp" under an overhanging rock: itconsists of a few parallel sticks, on which the native sleeps as wellas any European on a spring-mattress, and a hollow in the ground, with a number of cooking-stones. 

After a stiff climb we stop for our meal, then follow a pathwhich gradually widens and improves, a sign that we are nearing avillage. Towards evening we come to some gardens, where the nativesplant their yam and taro. At the entrance of the village I make myboys close up ranks; although the natives are not supposed to behostile, my people show signs of uneasiness, keeping close togetherand carrying the few weapons we have very conspicuously. 

We cross the village square to the gamal, a simple place, as theyall are, with a door about a yard from the ground, in order to keepout the pigs which roam all over the village. In line with the frontof the house is a row of tall bamboo posts, wound with vines; theirhollow interior is filled with yam and taro, the remains of a greatfeast. The village seems quite deserted, and we peep cautiouslyinto the interior of the gamal, where, after a while, we discern aman, lying on the damp and dirty ground, who stares at us in silentfright. He gets up and comes slowly out, and we can see that he haslost half of one foot from leprosy. From him the moli learns thatthe two chiefs are away at a great "sing-sing, " and the rest of themen in the fields or in their wives' houses. There is nothing for usto do but sit down and wait, and be sniffed at by pigs, barked at bydogs and annoyed by fowls. The moli beats vigorously on one of thewooden drums that lie in the mud in front of the house. He has hisown signal, which most of the natives know, so that all the countryround is soon informed of his arrival. 

One by one the men arrive, strolling towards the gamal as ifunconscious of our presence; some of them greet one or the otherof my boys whom they have met when visiting at the shore. Nearlyall of them are sick with leprosy or elephantiasis or tuberculosis, and after the long rainy period they all have colds and coughs andsuffer from rheumatism; altogether they present a sad picture ofdegeneration and misery, and there are few healthy men to be seen. 

My luggage is taken into the gamal, and I order the boys to buy andprepare food, whereupon the natives hurry away and fetch a quantity ofsupplies: pigs, fowls, yam, taro, of which I buy a large stock, payingin matches and tobacco. There are also eggs, which, I am assured, are delicious; but this is according to native taste, which likes eggsbest when half hatched. While the boys are cooking, I spend the timein measuring the villagers. At first they are afraid of the shiny, pointed instruments, but the tobacco they receive, after submittingto the operation, dispels their fears. The crowd sits round us on theground, increasing the uneasiness of my victims by sarcastic remarks. 

Meanwhile, the women have arrived, and crouch in two groups at theend of the square, which they are forbidden to enter. There areabout twenty of them, not many for nearly fifty men, but I see onlythree or four babies, and many faded figures and old-looking girlsof coarse and virile shape, the consequence of premature abuse andartificial sterility. But they chat away quite cheerfully, giggle, wonder, clap their hands, and laugh, taking hold of each other, and rocking to and fro. 

At last the two chiefs arrive, surprisingly tall and well-built men, with long beards carefully groomed, and big mops of hair. Like all themen, they are dressed in a piece of calico that hangs down in front, and a branch of croton behind. They have big bracelets, and wearthe curved tusks of pigs on their wrists. There is just time beforenightfall to take their measures and photographs, then I retire intothe gamal for my supper, during which I am closely observed by theentire male population. They make remarks about the spoons and theWorcester sauce, and when I put sugar into my tea, they whisper to eachother, "Salt!" which idea is almost enough to spoil one's appetite, only the delicious roast sucking-pig is too tempting. 

My toilet for the night is watched with the same attention; then, whileI am still reading on my bed, the men seek their couches in the long, low house. They stir up all the fires, which smoke terribly, then theylie down on their bamboo beds, my boys among them, and talk and talktill they fall asleep, --a houseful of leprous and consumptive men, who cough and groan all night. 

In front of me, near the entrance, is the chiefs place. He spendsa long time in preparing his kava, and drinks it noisily. Kava is aroot which is ground with a piece of sharp coral; the fibres are thenmixed with water, which is contained in a long bamboo, and mashedto a soft pulp; the liquid is then squeezed out, strained through apiece of cocoa-nut bark into a cocoa-nut bowl and drunk. The liquidhas a muddy, thick appearance, tastes like soapy water, stings likepeppermint and acts as a sleeping-draught. In Santo only chiefs areallowed to drink kava. 

At first, innumerable dogs disturbed my sleep, and towards morning itgrew very cold. When I came out of the hut, the morning sun was justgetting the better of the mist, and spreading a cheery light over thesquare, which had looked dismal enough under a grey, rainy sky. I madeall the women gather on the outskirts of the square to be measuredand photographed. They were very bashful, and I almost pitied them, for the whole male population sat around making cruel remarks aboutthem; indeed, if it had not been for the chiefs explicit orders, theywould all have run away. They were not a very pleasant spectacle, onthe whole. I was struck by the tired, suffering expression of even theyoung girls, a hopeless and uninterested look, in contradiction withtheir lively behaviour when unobserved. For they are natural and happyonly when among themselves, and in the presence of the men they feelthat they are under the eye of their master, often a brutal master, whose property they are. Probably they are hardly conscious of this, and take their position and destiny as a matter of course; but theyare constrained in the presence of their owners, knowing that at anymoment they may be displeased or angry, for any reason or for none, and may ill-treat or even kill them. Aside from these considerationstheir frightened awkwardness was extremely funny, especially whenposing before the camera. Some could not stand straight, otherstwisted their arms and legs into impossible positions. The idea ofa profile view seemed particularly strange to them, and they alwayspresented either their back or their front view. The poor things gotmore and more nervous, the men roared, I was desperate, --altogetherit was rather unsatisfactory. 

I was in need of more bearers to carry the provisions I had bought, and the chiefs were quite willing to supply them; but their ordershad absolutely no effect on the men, who were too lazy, and I shouldhave been in an awkward position had not one of the chiefs hit onthe expedient of employing his women. They obeyed without a moment'shesitation; each took a heavy load of yam, all but the favourite wife, the only pretty one of the number; her load was small, but she hadto clear the trail, walking at the head of the procession. 

The women led the way, chatting and giggling, patient and steadyas mules, and as sure-footed and supple. Nothing stops them; with aheavy load on their heads they walk over fallen trunks, wade throughditches, twist through vines, putting out a hand every now and then tofeel whether the bunch of leaves at their back is in place. They werecertainly no beauties, but there was a charm in their light, soft step, in the swaying of their hips, in the dainty poise of their slim anklesand feet, and the softness and harmony of all their movements. Andthe light playing on their dark, velvety, shining bodies increasedthis charm, until one almost forgot the many defects, the dirt, thesores, the disease. This pleasant walk in the cool, dewy forest, under the bright leaves, did not last long, and after two hours'tramp we reached our destination. 

At the edge of the square the women sat down beside their loads, and were soon joined by the women of the village. Our hostesses wereat once informed of every detail of our outfit, our food and ourdoings, and several dozen pairs of big dark eyes followed our everymovement. The women were all quite sure that I was a great doctor andmagician, and altogether a dangerous man, and this belief was not atall favourable to my purposes. 

We men soon withdrew to the gamal, where the men likewise had to beinformed of everything relating to our doings and character. The gamalwas low and dirty, and the state of health of the inhabitants stillworse than in the first village, but at least there were a few morebabies than elsewhere. The chief suffered from a horrible boil inhis loin, which he poulticed with chewed leaves, and the odour wasso unbearable that I had to leave the house and sit down outside, where I was surrounded by many lepers, without toes or even feet, a very dismal sight. 

I now paid my carriers the wages agreed upon, but they claimed that Iought to pay the men extra, although their services had been includedin the price. I took this for one of the tricks by which the nativestry to get the better of a good-natured foreigner, and refused flatly, whereupon the whole crowd sat down in front of the house and waitedin defiant silence. I left them there for half an hour, during whichthey whispered and deliberated in rather an uncomfortable way. Ifinally told them that I would not pay any more, and that they hadbetter go away at once. The interpreter said they were waiting forthe chiefs to get through with something they had to talk over, andthey stayed on a while longer. My refusal may have been a mistake, and there may really have been a misunderstanding, at any rate, I had to suffer for my unyielding way, inasmuch as the behaviour ofour hosts immediately changed from talkative hospitality and childishcuriosity to dull silence and suspicious reticence. The people sataround us, sullen and silent, and would not help us in any way, refused to bring firewood or show us the water-hole, and seemed mostanxious to get rid of us. Under these circumstances it was uselessto try to do any of my regular work, and I had to spend an idleand unpleasant afternoon. At last I induced a young fellow to showme the way to a high plateau near by, from which I had a beautifulview across trees to the east coast of the island, with the sea ina blue mist far away. As my guide, consumptive like all the others, was quite out of breath with our short walk, I soon had to return, and I paid him well. This immediately changed the attitude of allthe rest. Their sullenness disappeared, they came closer, began totalk, and at last we spent the afternoon in comparative friendship, and I could attend to my business. 

But the consequences of my short visit to the gamal became verynoticeable. In my hat I found a flourishing colony of horrid bug-likeinsects; my pockets were alive, my camera was full of them, theyhad crawled into my shoes, my books, my luggage, they were crawling, flying, dancing everywhere. Perfectly disgusted, I threw off all myclothes, and had my boys shake and clean out every piece. For a weekI had to have everything cleaned at least once a day, and even then Ifound the loathsome creatures in every fold, under straps, in pouches. 

On that afternoon I had a great success as an artist. My drawingsof pigs, trees and men went the rounds and were quite immoderatelyadmired, and preserved as we would a sketch of Holbein's. Thesedrawings have to be done as simply as possible and fairly large, elsethe natives do not understand them. They consider every line essential, and do not understand shadows or any impressionistic treatment. We mustremember that in our civilized art we work with many symbols, someof which have but a vague resemblance to the object they represent, whose meaning we know, while the savage does not. This was the reasonwhy I had often no success at all with what I considered masterpieces, while the natives went into raptures over drawings I thought utterfailures. At any rate, they made me quite a popular person. 

The sick chief complained to me that a late wife of his had beenpoisoned, and as he took me for a great "witch-doctor, " he asked meto find out the murderer. To the native, sickness or death is notnatural, but always the consequence of witchcraft, either on the partof enemies or spirits. The terribly high death-rate in the last yearsmakes it seem all the more probable that mysterious influences areat work, and the native suspects enemies everywhere, whom he triesto render harmless by killing them. This leads to endless murdersand vendettas, which decimate the population nearly as much as thediseases do. The natives know probably something about poisons, but they are always poisons that have to be mixed with food, andthis is not an easy thing to do, as every native prepares his foodhimself. Most of the dreaded poisons are therefore simply charms, stones or other objects, which would be quite harmless in themselves, but become capable of killing by the mere terror they inspire in thevictim. If the belief in these charms could be destroyed, a great dealof the so-called poisoning would cease, and it may be a good policy todeny the existence of poison, even at the risk of letting a murderergo unpunished. I therefore felt justified in playing a little comedy, all the more, as I was sure that the woman had died of consumption, and I promised the chief my assistance for the next morning. 

I had my bed made in the open air; even the boys would not enter thedirty house any more, and we slept well under the open sky, in spiteof the pigs that grunted around us and the dew that fell like rain. 

Next day the chief called all the men together; he was convincedthat I could see through every one of them and tell who had done anywrong. So he made them all sit round me, and I looked very solemnly ateach through the finder of my camera, the chief watching carefully tosee that I did not omit any one. The men felt uneasy, but did not quiteknow what to make of the whole performance. I naturally could not findanything wrong, and told the chief so, but he was not satisfied, andshook his head doubtfully. Then I talked to him seriously and triedto convince him that everyone had to die once, and that sickness wassomething natural, especially considering the filth in which theylived; but I do not think my speech made much impression. 

The men had now become very suspicious, the women were away, and Ihad great trouble in finding bearers and guides to the next village. Apleasant march brought us to this settlement, whose houses were closetogether in a big clearing. We were received very coolly by the chiefand a few men. My bearers and guides would not be induced to accompanyus farther, so that I had to ask for boys here; but the chief said hehad not a single able-bodied man, which I felt to be mere excuse. Ialso noticed that my own boys were very dissatisfied and sullen, and that something was in the wind. In order to raise their spirits, and not to leave our yam provisions behind, I had them cook the middaymeal, but the sullen, threatening atmosphere remained the same. Whenit was time to continue our march, I heard them grumble and complainabout their loads, and it all looked like rising mutiny. I was aheadwith the chief, who had consented to show us the way, when the molicame after me and informed me that the boys were unwilling to go on, that they were afraid to go farther inland and were ready to throwtheir loads away. Later on I learned that two of the boys had tried tobribe some natives to show them the road back to the coast and leaveme alone with the moli. I assembled the boys and made them a speech, saying that their loads were not too heavy nor the marches too long, that they were all free to return home, but would have to take theconsequences, and that I and the moli would go on without them. Ifthey liked, I said, they could throw away their tinned meats, I did notcare, and the two bottles of grog were not meant for me, and we couldeasily spare those. I grasped the bottles and offered to smash them, but that was too much for the boys; half crying, they begged me not todo that: the bottles were not too heavy, and they would gladly carrythem as far as I liked. Hesitatingly I allowed myself to be persuaded, and kindly desisted from the work of destruction. I had won, but I hadlost confidence in my boys, and was careful not to put their patienceand fidelity to any more tests, conscious as I was of how much dependedon their goodwill. After this episode they accomplished a long andtiresome march, up and down through thick bush on slippery clay, quite willingly. In the evening we reached a few huts in a clearingat a height of about 1200 feet, and went into camp for the night. 

While cooking, we heard dismal howling and weeping from a neighbouringhut; it was a woman mourning her husband, who had been dead ninety-ninedays. To-morrow, on the hundredth day, there was to be a death-feast, to which all the neighbours were invited. Of course, this man, too, had been poisoned. 

The fire of revolt was smouldering in my boys. They sat roundthe camp-fire in groups, whispering and plotting, grumbling andundecided; but I felt safe enough, as they were evidently dividedinto two parties, one faithful and the other mutinous, and the formerseemed rather more influential. They proved their goodwill to me bydelightful servility, and took excellent care of me. 

Next morning we were wakened by the howls of the unhappy widow, and soon the guests appeared, some from far off, and all bringingcontributions to the feast. They killed several pigs, and whilethe men cut them up in a manner rather more clever than appetizing, the women prepared the fires by lighting large quantities of woodto heat the cooking-stones. This lasted several hours. Meanwhile, every person present received his share of a half-rotten smoked pig, of the freshly killed pigs, yam, taro and sweet potatoes. The womentook the entrails of the pigs, squeezed them out, rolled them up inbanana leaves, and made them ready for cooking. When the fire wasburnt down they took out half of the stones with forks of splitbamboo, and then piled up the food in the hole, first the fruit, then the meat, so that the grease should run over the fruit; then thehole was covered with banana leaves, the hot stones piled on top andcovered with more leaves. Food cooked in this way is done in three orfour hours, so that the "stoves" are usually opened in the afternoon, and enormous quantities eaten on the spot, while the rest is put inbaskets to take home. The amount a native can eat at one sittingis tremendous, and one can actually watch their stomachs swell asthe meal proceeds. Violent indigestion is generally the consequenceof such a feast. On the whole, no one seemed to be thinking much ofthe dead man in whose honour it was given, --such things are said tohappen in civilized countries as well. 

I stayed in this village for another day, and many chiefs from theneighbourhood came to consult me, always complaining of the onething--poison. Each secretly accused the others, each wanted me totry my glass on all the others. I did not like my reputation of beinga magician at all, as it made the people still more suspicious of meand more afraid of my instruments and my camera. 

These so-called chiefs were rather more intelligent than theaverage. Most of them had worked for whites at one time, and learned tospeak pidgin-English; but they were as superstitious as anyone else, and certainly greater rogues. They were naked and dirty, but some hadretained some traces of civilization, one, for instance, always tookoff his old felt hat very politely, and made quite a civilized bow;he must have been in Nouméa in former days. 

There was no leprosy or elephantiasis here, but a great deal oftuberculosis, and very few children, and nearly all the men complainedthat their women were unwilling to have any more children. 

From the next village I had a glimpse of the wild mountains of westernSanto. I decided to spend the night here, left the boys behind, andwent southward with the moli and a few natives. This was evidentlythe region where the volcanic and coral formations meet, for thecharacter of the landscape suddenly changed, and instead of flatplateaux we found a wild, irregular country, with lofty hills anddeep, narrow gullies. Walking became dangerous, though the path wasfair. On top of a hill I found an apparently abandoned village, fromwhich I could overlook all central Santo. To the west were the rugged, dark-looking mountains round Santo Peak, with white clouds floatingon the summit, and a confusion of deep blue valleys and steep peaks;northward lay the wild Jordan valley, and far away I could distinguishthe silver mirror of Big Bay. All around us rose the silent, stern, lonely forest--imposing, unapproachable. 

On our way back to camp we rested beside a fresh creek which gailysqueezed its way through rocks and rich vegetation. A little teaand a tin of sardines were all the menu, but we enjoyed a delightfulbath in the cool water, and had as good a wash as we could withoutsoap. It was a great luxury after the hot days in the coral countrywithout any water. While our things were drying in the bright sun, we lay in the moss near the rushing stream, and it was like a summerday at home in the mountains. The water sounded familiar, the soft, cool breeze was the same, and while I lay watching the white cloudsthrough the bright foliage I dreamt of home. At home I had dreamt oftravel, and thus one wish follows the other and the soul is preservedfrom lazy content. I almost fancied I heard the sound of bells and thefar-away lowing of cattle. And again the reality seemed like a dreamwhen I roused myself and saw the dark figures crouching on the rocks, with their frizzy mops of hair and their Sniders on their knees. 

The village turned out to be too dirty to spend the night in, and Idecided to go to one which seemed quite near, just across a gully. HadI known what an undertaking it would be, I would not have started, for the ravine was very deep and the sides unpleasantly steep;but my boys managed the descent, over rocks and fallen trees, withtheir usual cleverness. At the bottom we were rewarded by a beautifulsight. Beneath us, in a narrow cut it had eaten through the rock, roared a river, foaming out of the depths of the dark wilderness. Itwas like one of the celebrated gorges in the Alps, only the tropicalvegetation which hung in marvellous richness and variety over theabyss gave a fairy-like aspect to the scene. The boys did not seemto appreciate it in the least, and prepared, sighing, for the steepascent. A simple bridge led across the gully; it was made of a fewtrees, and even provided with a railing in the shape of a vine. Theexistence of this bridge surprised me very much; for, consideringthe thoughtless egotism with which the natives pass through life, Ihad thought them incapable of any work of public utility. They rarelythink of repairing a road or cutting a vine, nor do they remove treesthat may have fallen across the path, but always rely on others tosee to it. 

The second village was not much cleaner than the first, but we campedthere, and the next day I went with the moli and a few of my boys tothe western mountains. The natives warned us, saying that the peoplewere "no good" and would kill us. But, for one thing, I could notsee that they themselves were particularly "good, " and, for another, I knew that all natives consider other tribes especially dangerous;so I stuck to my intention, only we hung all our available weaponsabout us, leaving the rest of the boys defenceless. 

This turned out one of the most strenuous days I ever had in theislands, as the road--and what a road!--constantly led up and downthe steepest slopes. It seemed to me we were climbing perpendicularmountains all day long, and I had many an opportunity of admiring theagility of my companions. I am a fair walker myself, but I had to crawlon my hands and knees in many spots where they jumped from a stone toa root, taking firm hold with their toes, never using their hands, never slipping, and always with a loaded and cocked rifle on theirshoulders. My boys from the coast, good pedestrians though they were, always remained far behind. 

First we reached well-tended taro fields, then a few scatteredhuts. The natives received us very kindly, and more men kept joiningus, till we formed a big, jolly crowd. The population here seemed veryprimitive, and evidently had but little contact with the shore, butthey were clean and comparatively healthy and flourishing, and I foundthem rather more frank, childlike and confiding than others I had seen. 

We roasted our yam, and while we were enjoying our frugal butdelicious meal, I witnessed rather an amusing episode. A bushman, painted black for mourning, suddenly called to one of my boys, andwanted to shake hands with him. My boy, a respectable "schoolboy, "was visibly annoyed by the idea of having anything to do with a naked"man-bush, " and behaved with icy reserve; but he could not long resistthe rural cordiality of the other, and presently resigned himself tohis fate, and made friends. It turned out that they had once workedtogether in Vila, and one had become an elegant young swell, whilethe other returned to simple country life. 

On the way back we rested by the river-bank, amusing ourselves byshooting pigeons with pistols and guns, feeling quite peaceful andhappy. But the sound of our shots had an unexpected effect in thevillage where I had left the rest of my boys. All the natives jumpedto their feet, shouting, "Did we not tell you that they would killyour master? Now you have heard them; he is dead, and now we willsee what you have in your boxes and divide it among ourselves. "

They approached my boys threateningly, whereupon they all ran away, with the exception of the ringleader of the mutineers of the lastfew days, who sat down on the box containing the trading-stock andsaid they had better go and see whether I was really dead beforeplundering my luggage. The situation must have grown rather strained, until some one had the good sense to go and look out for us, whereuponhe saw us sitting peacefully near the river below. This calmed thenatives, they withdrew, much disappointed, and my boys returned andprepared everything for my arrival with remarkable zeal. I founddry clothes ready, and tea boiling, and was quite touched by so muchthoughtfulness. I was not told of the day's occurrence till after myreturn to the coast, and perhaps it was just as well. 

By this time I had seen a good part of south-east Santo, and I waseager to visit the south-west, with Santo Peak. But without guidesand with marked symptoms of home-sickness on the part of my boys, I decided it would not be wise to attempt it. The news that we weregoing to start for home revived the boys at once. With enormousalacrity they packed up next day and raced homeward with astonishingspeed and endurance; I had had to drag them along before, now I couldhardly keep up with them. In two days we had reached the plain ofthe Jordan, had a delightful swim and a jolly last night in camp, free from pigs, dogs, fowls, fleas and bugs, --but not from mosquitoes!

The last day we strolled in and along the river, through theforest swarming with wild pigs and pigeons, while a huge colony offlying-foxes circled in the air, forming an actual cloud, and thenwe came to the shore, with the wide expanse of Big Bay peaceful inthe evening sun. A painful walk on the sharp pebbles of the beachbrought us home towards nightfall. 

CHAPTER VIII

SANTO (continued)--PYGMIES

The term of service of my boys had now expired, and I had to lookabout for others. Happily, now that I was known in the region, I hadless trouble, especially as I held out the prospect of a visit toNouméa. With six boys of my own and a few other men, I started onanother journey. 

I had always suspected the existence of a race of pygmies in theislands, and had often asked the natives if they had ever seen"small fellow men. " Generally they stared at me without a sign ofintelligence, or else began to tell fairy-tales of dwarfs they hadseen in the bush, of little men with tails and goat's feet (probablyderived from what they had heard of the devil from missionaries), all beings of whose existence they were perfectly convinced, whomthey often see in the daytime and feel at night, so that it is veryhard to separate truth from imagination. 

I had heard stories of a colony of tailed men near Mele, and that, nearWora, north of Talamacco, tailed men lived in trees; that they werevery shy and had long, straight hair. The natives pretended they hadnearly caught one once. All this sounded interesting and improbable, and I was not anxious to start on a mere wild-goose chase. More exactinformation, however, was forthcoming. One of my servants told me thatnear a waterfall I could see shining out of a deep ravine far inland, there lived "small fellow men. "

It was an exceptionally stormy morning when we started, so thatMr. F. Advised me to postpone my departure; but in the New Hebrides itis no use to take notice of the weather, and that day it was so badthat it could not get any worse, which was some consolation. Soon wewere completely soaked, but we kept on along the coast to some huts, where we were to meet our guide. Presently he arrived, followed by acrowd of children, as they seemed to me, who joined our party. Whileclimbing inland toward the high mountains, I asked the guide if heknew anything about the little people; he told me that one of themwas walking behind me. I looked more closely at the man in question, and saw that whereas I had taken him for a half-grown youth, he wasreally a man of about forty, and all the others who had come with himturned out to be full-grown but small individuals. Of course I wasdelighted with this discovery, and should have liked to begin measuringand photographing at once, had not the torrents of rain prevented. 

I may mention here that I found traces later on of this diminutive racein some other islands, but rarely in such purity as here. Everywhereelse they had mingled with the taller population, while here theyhad kept somewhat apart, and represented an element by themselves, so that I was fortunate in having my attention drawn to them here, as elsewhere I might easily have overlooked them. 

The trail by which we were travelling was one of the worst I eversaw in the islands, and the weather did not improve. The higherup we went, the thicker was the fog; we seemed to be moving in aslimy mass, breathing the air from a boiler. At noon we reachedthe lonely hut, where a dozen men and women squatted, shiveringwith cold and wet, crowded together under wretched palm-leaf mats, near a smouldering fire. There were some children wedged into thegaps between the grown-ups. Our arrival seemed to rouse these poorpeople from their misery a little; one man after the other got up, yawning and chattering, the women remained sitting near the fire. Wemade them some hot tea, and then I began to measure and take pictures, to which they submitted quite good-humouredly. 

I was much struck by the fact of these men and women living together, a most unusual thing in a Melanesian district, where the separationof the sexes and the "Suque" rules are so rigorously observed. 

We started off once more in the icy rain, keeping along the crestof the hill, which was just wide enough for the path. The mountainsloped steeply down on either side, the thick mist made an earlytwilight, we could only see the spot where we set our feet, whileall the surroundings were lost in grey fog, so that we felt as thoughwe were walking in a void, far above all the world. At nightfall wearrived at a solitary hut--the home of our companions. After havingrepaired the broken roof, my boys succeeded in lighting a fire, though how they did it is a mystery, as matches and everything elsewere soaked. Soon tea and rice were boiling, while I tried to drymy instruments, especially my camera, whose watertight case had notbeen able to resist the rain. Then I wrapped myself up in my blanket, sipped my tea and ate my rice, and smoked a few pipes. It certainlyis a reward for the day's work, that evening hour, lying satisfied, tired and dreamy, under the low roof of the hut, while outside thewind roars through the valley and the rain rattles on the roof, and afar-off river rushes down a gorge. The red fire paints the beams aboveme in warm colours, and in the dark corners the smoke curls in blueclouds. Around a second fire the natives lie in ecstatic laziness, smoking and talking softly, pigs grunt and dogs scratch busily about. 

In the morning the storm had passed, and I could see that the housewas set on the slope of a high mountain, much as a chalet is, andthat we were at the end of a wild ravine, from every side of whichfresh rivulets and cascades came pouring. Owing to the mountainouscharacter of the country there are no villages here, but numerous hutsscattered all along the mountains, two or three families at the utmostliving together. The structure of the houses, too, was different fromthose on the coast; they had side walls and a basement of boulders, sometimes quite carefully built. Here men and women live together, and a separation of the fires does not seem to exist, nor does the"Suque" seem to have penetrated to this district. 

We passed several hamlets where the mode of life was the same as inthis one. The dress of the men is the same as at the coast, exceptthat they wind strings of shell-money about their waists in manifoldrows. The women wear a bunch of leaves in front and behind. The weaponsare the same as elsewhere, except that here we find the featheredarrows which are such a rarity in the Pacific. It is surprising tofind these here, in these secluded valleys among the pygmy race, and only here, near Talamacco, nowhere else where the same race isfound. It is an open question whether these feathered arrows are anoriginal invention in these valleys, an importation or a remnant ofan earlier culture. 

The population lives on the produce of the fields, mostly taro, which is grown in irrigated lands in the river bottoms. 

In appearance these people do not differ much from those of centralSanto, who are by no means of a uniform type. The most importantfeature is their size, that of the men amounting to 152 cm. , thatof the women to 144 cm. The smallest man I measured was 138. 0 cm. , others measured 146. 0, 149. 2, 144. 2, 146. 6, 140. 6, 149. 0, 139. 6, 138. 4cm. The maximum size is hard to state, as even here the small varietyhas mixed with taller tribes, so that we find all the intermediatesizes, from the pygmy 139. 6 cm. High, to the tall Melanesian of 178. 0cm. My object, therefore, was to find a colony of pure pygmies, andI pursued it in many subsequent wanderings, but without success. Thefollowing description is based on the type as I constructed it inthe course of my travels and observations. 

The hair is very curly, and seems black, but is in reality adark, yellowish brown. Fil-fil is less frequent than among thetall variety. The forehead is straight, very slightly retreating, vaulted and rather narrow, the eyes are close together, straight, medium-sized and dark brown. The superciliar ridges are but slightlydeveloped. The jaw-bones are large, but do not protrude, whereas thechewing muscles are well developed, which gives the face breadth, makesthe chin-line round and the chin itself small and pointed. The mouthis not very large, with moderately thick lips, the nose is straight, hardly open toward the front, the nostrils not thick. As a rule, thegrowth of beard is not heavy, unlike that of the tall Melanesians;there is only a light moustache, a few tufts at the chin and nearthe jaw. Up to the age of forty this is all; in later years a heavierbeard develops, but the face and the front of the chin remain free. 

Thus it will be seen that these people are not at all repulsive, asall the ridges of bone and the heavy muscle attachments which make theface of ordinary Melanesians so brutal are lacking. On the contrary, they look quite agreeable and childlike. Their bodies are vigorous, but lightly built: the chest broad and deep, the arms and legs fine, with beautiful delicate joints, the legs well proportioned, withhandsome calves. Their feet are short and broad, especially in front, but the great toe does not stand off from the others noticeably. Thusthe pygmy has none of the proportions of a child, and shows no signsof degeneration, but is of harmonious build, only smaller than otherMelanesians. 

The shade of the skin varies a good deal from a dull purple, brownish-black, to coffee colour; but the majority of individualsare light, and the dark ones probably inherited their shade from thetall race. 

Deformations of the body are not practised, save for an occasionalperforation of the lobes of the ear. I never saw a perforation ofthe septum, nor women with incisors extracted. 

It seems as if the small race were better preserved here in Santothan the tall one. The diseases which destroy the other tribes areless frequent here, there are more children and a good number ofwomen. All this may be due to a great extent to their living inlandand not coming into touch with the unfavourable sides of civilizationas the coast tribes do, but even more to the hardy outdoor life in themountains. In their country one cannot walk three steps on a level, and the whole population is expert in climbing, very sure-footed, thinking nothing of jumping with a heavy load from one rock to another, or racing at full speed down the steep and uneven slopes. 

In character, too, they differ from the tribes near the water. Theyseem less malicious and more confiding, and show less of the distrustand shy reserve of the average Melanesian. They will laugh and chatin the presence of strangers, and are very hospitable. I do not knowif these are accidental impressions, but I can only say that I alwaysfelt safer and more comfortable in a village where the majority ofthe inhabitants belonged to the small race. 

With all this the pygmies are by no means helpless or even inferior, compared to their tall neighbours. Possibly, in former days, theymay have been driven from their homes in the plains back into themountains, but at present they are quite equal to the tall race, and the "salt-water men" are even a little afraid of their smallneighbours inland. What they lack in size and strength they makeup in speed and suppleness and temperament. The barrier between theraces has disappeared, and the mixing process is hastened by the factthat the small race frequently sells its women to the tall one. It israre for a woman from the coast to settle in the mountains, still, itoccurs frequently enough to alloy the purity of the pygmy race, and inno village have I found more than about 70 per cent. Of real pygmies. 

In the afternoon we came to the chief's dwelling. The old man livedthere alone with his wife, quietly and happily, venerated by all theother people. It was touching to see the little couple, delicate astwo dolls, who seemed to love each other sincerely, a most uncommonoccurrence in Melanesia. I really had too much respect for the oldpeople to trouble them with my measuring instruments, but I couldnot resist taking their pictures. After consulting her husband witha look of the greatest confidence, the old lady consented shyly, while he stood beside her as if it was an everyday event to him, and a sort of tribute I was paying to his age and position and thebeauty of his wife. 

From this point I had a fine view of the cascade that fell down in awide silver ribbon through the forest. Some months later all that wildscenery was destroyed by an earthquake, which caused many land-slidesand spoilt the cascade. Following the roaring river, jumping from oneblock of stone to another, we soon reached our camp, a large gamal. Aswe were nearing the coast its arrangements were adapted to the customsof the tall Melanesians. There were a few small individuals, but thetall race was predominant. The reign of the "Suque" was evident by thefloor of the gamal being divided by parallel sticks into compartmentscorresponding to the number of fires and castes, and each man satdown in his division and cooked his own food. 

Next day, after having waded through the cold water of the river, wearrived at the coast. From the last hills I sent a farewell look intothe wild green tangle of forest, rocks, ravines, cascades and valleys, over which heavy rain-clouds were gathering. Before me the greyish-bluemirror of Big Bay lay in the mist, and in the Jordan valley the rainfell heavily. The high reed-grass all around us rustled dismally, and the damp cold was depressing. I hurried home and arrived therein the night, wet as when I had started on my expedition. 

With regard to the pygmies I must not omit to mention the followingexperience. The fact that among them husband and wife live together, and that I had nowhere seen a man with two wives, made me suspectthat this race was monogamous, as other pygmy races are. I madefrequent inquiries, and was assured that each man was allowed but onewife. Still, I was not quite convinced, for it seemed strange to finda monogamous population in the midst of polygamous tribes. Othershaving given me similar information, I began to accept this theoryas a fact. At last, however, I found I had been deceived, as all thepeople had taken me for a missionary, and had fancied I was askingthem questions in order to interfere with their matrimonial customsby sending them a teacher or a "mission-police-man. " My error wascleared up, thanks to the investigations of a trader, for which I ammuch indebted to him. 

CHAPTER IX

SANTO (continued)--PIGS

The sun had hardly risen, yet the air hung heavy in the shrubssurrounding my sleeping-hut. Damp heat and light poured into theshed-like room, where hundreds of flies and as many mosquitoessought an entrance into my mosquito-net. It was an atmosphere to sapone's energy; not even the sunshine, so rare in these parts, had anyattraction for me, and only the long-drawn "Sail ho!" of the natives, announcing the arrival of the steamer, had power to drive me outof bed. 

She soon came to anchor and sent a boat ashore, and when I enteredmy host's house, I found some of the ship's officers there, ready forbusiness and breakfast. Probably to drown the touch of home-sicknessthat the arrival of a steamer brings to those who are tied to theislands, our host set about emptying his cellar with enthusiasm andperseverance, while the visitors would have been satisfied with muchsmaller libations, as they had many more stations to visit that day. 

While the crew was loading the coprah and landing a quantity of goods, the host started his beloved gramophone for the general benefit, and afearful hash of music drifted out into the waving palms. Presently someone announces that the cargo is all aboard, whereupon the supercargoputs down his paper and remarks that they are in a hurry. A famoussoprano's wonderful high C is ruthlessly broken off short, and weall run to the beach and jump on the backs of boys, who carry usdry-shod to the boat. We are rowed to the steamer, and presentlydescend to the storeroom, which smells of calico, soap, tobacco andcheese. Anything may be bought here, from a collar-button to a tinof meat, from perfumery to a shirt, anything, --and sometimes eventhe very thing one wants. We provide for the necessities of life forthe next month or two, hand over our mail and end our visit with adrink. Then the whistle blows, we scramble into the boat, and whilemy host waves his hat frantically and shouts "good-bye, " the steamergradually disappears from sight. My friend has "a bad headache" fromall the excitement of the morning. I guide him carefully between thecases and barrels the steamer has brought, and deposit him in his bunk;then I retire to my own quarters to devour my mail. 

Some days after this we went to see a "sing-sing" up north. We rowedalong the shore, and as my host was contributing a pig, we had theanimal with us. With legs and snout tightly tied, the poor beast laysadly in the bottom of the boat, occasionally trying to snap the feetof the rowers. The sea and the wind were perfect, and we made goodspeed; in the evening we camped on the beach. The next day was justas fine; my host continued the journey by boat, while I preferred towalk the short distance that remained, accompanied by the pig, whosehealth did not seem equal to another sea-voyage in the blazing sun. Itwas touching to see the tenderness with which the natives treated thevictim-elect, giving it the best of titbits, and urging it with thegentlest of words to start on the walk. It was quite a valuable animal, with good-sized tusks. After some hesitation the pig suddenly rushedoff, Sam, his keeper, behind. First it raced through the thicket, which I did not like, so I proposed to Sam to pull the rope on theenergetic animal's leg; but Sam would not damp its splendid enthusiasmfor fear it might balk afterwards. Sam managed, however, to directit back into the path, but we had a most exhausting and exciting, if interesting, walk, for the pig was constantly rushing, sniffing, grunting and digging on all sides, so that Sam was entirely occupiedwith his charge, and it was quite impossible to converse. At lastwe proudly entered the village, and the beast was tied in the shade;we separated, not to meet again till the hour of sacrifice. 

I was then introduced to the host, a small but venerable old man, who received me with dignified cordiality. We could not talk together, but many ingratiating smiles assured each of the other's sympathy. Thevillage seemed extremely pleasant to me, which may have been due tothe bright sun and the cool breeze. The square was situated on thebeach, which sloped steeply to the sea. Along the ridge were plantedbrightly-coloured trees, and between their trunks we could see theocean, heavenly blue. On the other side were the large, well-keptgamals, and crowds of people in festival attire; many had come froma distance, as the feast was to be a big one, with plenty to eatfor everybody. 

Palo, the host, was very busy looking after his guests and giving eachhis share of good things. He was a most good-natured, courteous oldgentleman, although his costume consisted of nothing but a few bunchesof ferns. The number of guests increased steadily; besides the realheathen in unadorned beauty, there were half-civilized Christians, ugly in ill-fitting European clothes, of which they were visibly vain, although they made blots on the beautiful picture of native life. Allaround the square grunted the tusked pigs. 

At noon four men gave the signal for the beginning of the festivitiesby beating two big drums, which called the guests to dinner. Palohad sent us a fowl cooked native fashion between hot stones, and, like everything cooked in this way, it tasted very delicious. Shortlyafterwards the real ceremonies began, with the killing of about twohundred young female pigs which had been kept in readiness in littlebamboo sheds. 

Accompanied by the drums, Palo led all the high-castes in dancingsteps out of the gamal and round the square. After a few turns thechiefs drew up in line in front of him, and he mounted a stone table, while everyone else kept on dancing. His favourite wife was nextto the table, also dancing. Palo was entirely covered with ferns, which were stuck in his hair, his bracelets and his belt. He stilllooked quite venerable, but with a suggestion of a faun, a Bacchus ora Neptune. It was a warm day, and the dancing made everybody perspiremore than freely. 

Now one of the other men took hold of a little pig by the hind-legs andthrew it in a lofty curve to one of the dancing chiefs, who caught thelittle animal, half stunned by the fall, and, still dancing, carriedit to Palo, who killed it by three blows on the head, whereupon itwas laid at his feet. This went on for a long time. It was a cruelsight. Squealing and shrieking, the poor animals flew through theair, fell heavily on the hard earth, and lay stunned or tried tocrawl away with broken backs or legs. Some were unhurt, and ran off, but a bloodthirsty crowd was after them with clubs and axes, and soonbrought them back. Still, one man thought this troublesome, and brokethe hind-legs of each pig before throwing it to the chief, so thatit might not escape. It was horrible to see and hear the bones break, but the lust for blood was upon the crowd, and on all sides there werepassionate eyes, distorted faces and wild yells. Happily the work wassoon done, and in front of Palo lay a heap of half-dead, quiveringanimals. He and his wife now turned their backs to the assembly, whilea few high-castes counted the corpses. For each ten one lobe was tornoff a sicca-leaf, then the missing lobes were counted, and after apuzzling calculation, the result was announced. Palo turned roundand descended from his pedestal with much dignity, though pantingfrom his exertions, and looking so hot that I feared an apoplexyfor the old man. I did not know how tough such an old heathen is, nor that his efforts were by no means at an end. Noblesse oblige andsuch high caste as Palo's is not attained without trouble. 

As female pigs may not be eaten, those just killed were thrown intothe sea by the women; meanwhile, the chiefs blew a loud blast on theshell-bugles, to announce to all concerned that Palo's first duty wasaccomplished. The deep yet piercing tones must have sounded far intothe narrow valleys round. 

Then poles were driven into the ground, to which the tusked pigs weretied. Some were enormous beasts, and grunted savagely when anyonecame near them. I saw my companion of the morning lying cheerfullygrunting in the shade of a tree. Now came a peculiar ceremony, inwhich all who had contributed pigs were supposed to take part. To mydisappointment, Mr. F. Refused to join in. Palo took up his positionon the stone table, armed with a club. Out of a primitive door, hastily improvised out of a few palm-leaves, the chiefs came dancingin single file, swinging some weapon, a spear or a club. Palo jumpeddown, danced towards them, chased each chief and finally drove them, still dancing, back through the door. This evidently symbolized somefight in which Palo was the victor. After having done this abouttwenty times, Palo had to lead all the chiefs in a long dance acrossthe square, passing in high jumps between the pigs. After this heneeded a rest, and no wonder. Then the pigs were sacrificed withmysterious ceremonies, the meaning of which has probably never beenpenetrated. The end of it all was that Palo broke the pigs' headswith a special club, and when night fell, twenty-six "tuskers" layagonizing on the ground. Later they were hung on trees, to be eatennext day, and then everybody retired to the huts to eat and rest. 

Some hours later great fires were kindled at both ends of the square, and women with torches stood all around. The high-castes opened theball, but there was not much enthusiasm, and only a few youngstershopped about impatiently, until their spirits infected some olderpeople, and the crowd increased, so that at last everybody was ravingin a mad dance. The performance is monotonous: some men with pan-pipesbend down with their heads touching, and blow with all their might, always the same note, marking time with their feet. Suddenly one givesa jump, others follow, and then the whole crowd moves a number oftimes up and down the square, until the musicians are out of breath, when they come to a standstill. The excitement goes on until the sunrises. The women, as a rule, keep outside the square, but they dancetoo, and keep it up all night; now and then a couple disappears intothe darkness. 

Next morning Palo, who had hardly closed his eyes all night, was verybusy again, giving each guest his due share of the feast. The largepigs were dressed, cut up and cooked. This work lasted all day, buteverybody enjoyed it. The dexterity and cleanliness with which thecarcases are divided is astonishing, and is quite a contrast to thecrude way in which native meals are usually dressed and devoured. Wewhites received a large and very fat slice as a present, which wepreferred to pass on, unnoticed, to our boys. Fat is considered thebest part of the pig. 

The lower jaws of the tuskers were cut out separately and handed overto Palo, to be cleaned and hung up in his gamal in the shape of achandelier, as tokens of his rank. 

Palo is a weather-maker. When we prepared to go home, he promised tosmooth the sea, which was running too high for comfort, and to preventa head-wind. We were duly grateful, and, indeed, all his promises werefulfilled: we had a perfectly smooth sea, and such a dead calm thatbetween the blue sky and the white sea we nearly fainted, and had torow wearily along instead of sailing. Just as we were leaving, Palocame to the bank, making signs for us to come back, a pretty custom, although it is not always meant sincerely. 

Late at night we arrived at home once more. 

CHAPTER X

CLIMBING SANTO PEAK

Some days later I left Talamacco for Wora, near Cape Cumberland, a small station of Mr. D. 's, Mr. F. 's neighbour. What struck me mostthere were the wide taro fields, artificially irrigated. The systemof irrigation must date from some earlier time, for it is difficult tobelieve that the population of the present day, devoid as they are ofenterprise, should have laid it out, although they are glad enough touse it. The method employed is this: Across one of the many streamsa dam of great boulders is laid, so that about the same amount ofwater is constantly kept running into a channel. These channels areoften very long, they skirt steep slopes and are generally cut intothe earth, sometimes into the rock; sometimes a little aqueduct isbuilt of planks, mud and earth, supported by bamboo and other polesthat stand in the valley. In the fields the channel usually dividesinto several streams, and runs through all the flat beds, laid out insteps, in which the taro has only to be lightly stuck to bring forthfruit in about ten months. Taro only grows in very swampy ground, some varieties only under water, so that it cannot be grown in thecoral region, where there is plenty of rain, but no running water. Inthese districts yam is the principal food, while we find taro in themountains of primary rock. Both are similar in taste to the potato. 

My next journey led me across the peninsula to the west coast ofSanto. As usual, it was a very rainy day when we started, but onceacross the divide the air became much drier. The clouds, driven bythe south-east trade-wind, strike the islands on the east side, and this is the reason why the east coast is so much damper thanthe west, and why the vegetation is so immoderately thick on theone side, and much less luxuriant on the other. On the west sidethe bush is thinner and there are wide stretches of reed-grass, but there is plenty of water, bright creeks fed by the rainfall onthe mountains. Here, on the coast, it was much warmer than where wehad come from, but the air was most agreeable, dry and invigorating, quite different from the damp, heavy air on the other side. 

Late at night, after a long walk on the warm beach sand, we reachedthe village of Nogugu. Next day Mr. G. , a planter, was good enough totake me with him in his motor-boat, southward along the coast. Highmountains came close to the shore, falling in almost perpendicularwalls straight down into the sea. Deep narrow valleys led inland intothe very heart of the island. Several times, when we were passingthe openings of these valleys, a squall caught us, and rain poureddown; then, again, everything lay in bright sunshine and the coastwas picturesque indeed with its violet shadows and reddish rocks. Theonly level ground to be seen was at the mouths of the valleys in theshape of little river deltas. 

The village to which we were going was on one of these deltas. Hardlyhad we set foot on shore than a violent earthquake almost threw usto the ground. The shock lasted for at least thirty seconds, thenwe heard a dull rumbling as of thunder, and saw how all along thecoast immense masses of earth fell into the sea from the high cliffs, so that the water boiled and foamed wildly. Then yellow smoke cameout of all the bays, and hung in heavy clouds over the devastatedspots, and veiled land and sea. Inland, too, we saw many bare spots, where the earth and trees had slipped down. The shocks went on allnight, though with diminished violence, and we continually heard thethunderous rattling of falling rocks and earth. 

Next day we stopped at the village of Wus, and I persuaded a daintydamsel (she was full-grown, but only 134. 4 cm. High) to make me aspecimen of pottery. It was finished in ten minutes, without any toolbut a small, flat, bamboo splinter. Without using a potter's wheelthe lady rounded the sides of the jar very evenly, and altogethergave it a most pleasing, almost classical shape. 

When we returned south we could see what damage the earthquake haddone. All the slopes looked as if they had been scraped, and the seawas littered with wood and bushes. We also experienced the disagreeablesensation of an earthquake on the water. The boat suddenly began toshake and tremble, as if a giant hand were shaking it, and at the sametime more earth fell down into the water. The shocks recurred forseveral weeks, and after a while we became accustomed to them. Thevibrations seemed to slacken and to become more horizontal, so thatwe had less of the feeling of being pushed upwards off our feet, but rather that of being in an immense swing. For six weeks I wasawakened almost every night by dull, threatening thunder, followedsome seconds later by a shock. 

Another village where pottery was made was Pespia, a little inland. Thechief obligingly gathered the scattered population, and I had ampleopportunity to buy pots and watch the making of them. The method isdifferent from that at Wus, for a primitive wheel, a segment of athick bamboo, is used. On this the clay is wound up in spirals andthe surface smoothed inside and out. This is the method by whichmost of the prehistoric European pottery was made. The existence ofthe potter's art in these two villages only of all the New Hebridesis surprising. Clay is found in other districts, and the idea thatthe natives might have learnt pottery from the Spaniards lacksall probability, as the Spaniards never visited the west coast ofSanto. The two entirely different methods offer another riddle. 

I made my way back along the coast, round Cape Cumberland. One of myboys having run away, I had to carry his load myself, and althoughit was not the heaviest one, I was glad when I found a substitutefor him. This experience gave me an insight into the feelings of atired and discontented carrier. 

At Wora I found that my host had returned to his station nearTalamacco. So I returned to Talamacco by boat; the earthquake hadbeen very violent there, and had caused the greatest damage, and Iheard that all the new houses of the Messrs. Thomas at Hog Harbourhad been ruined. 

Times had been troublous in other respects at Talamacco; the natives, especially the Christians, were fighting, and one Sunday they wereall ready, looking very fierce, to attack each other with clubs andother weapons, only neither side dared to begin. I asked them to dothe fighting out in the open, so that I could take a picture of it, and this cooled them down considerably. They sat down and began along palaver, which ended in nothing at all, and, indeed, no onereally knew what had started the excitement. 

In spite of the supercargo's announcement that the steamer wouldarrive on the twentieth, she did not come till the first of thefollowing month. This kept me constantly on the look out and readyfor departure, and unable to do anything of importance. At last wesailed, touching the Banks Islands on our route; and after enjoyinga few days of civilization on board, I went ashore at Tassimaloun, on the south-west corner of Santo, where I had the pleasure of beingMr. C. 's guest. My object there was to follow the traces of the pygmypopulation, but as the natives mostly live inland, and only rarely cometo the coast, I had to go in search of them. At that time I was oftenill with fever, and could not do as much as I could have wished. OnceI tried to reach the highest mountain of the islands, Santo Peak, but my guides from the mission village of Vualappa led me for tendays through most uninteresting country and an unfriendly populationwithout even bringing me to the foot of the mountain. I had severalunpleasant encounters with the natives, during one of which I fullyexpected to be murdered, and when our provisions were exhausted we hadto return to the coast. But every time I saw the tall pyramid of SantoPeak rising above the lower hills I longed to be the first Europeanto set foot on it, and I tried it at last from the Tassiriki side. 

After long consultations with the natives, I at last found two menwho were willing to guide me to the mountain. I decided to give upall other plans, and to take nothing with me but what was strictlynecessary. On the second day we climbed a hill which my guides insistedwas the Peak, the highest point of the island. I pointed out a highersummit, but they said that we would never get up there before noon, and, indeed, they did everything they could to delay our advance, by following wrong trails and being very slow about clearing theway. Still, after an hour's hard work, we were on the point inquestion, and from there I could see the real Santo Peak, separatedfrom us by only one deep valley, as far as I could judge in the tangleof forest that covered everything. The guides again pretended that wewere standing on the highest mountain then, and that it would takeat least a fortnight to reach the real Peak. I assured them that Imeant to be on its top by noon, and when they showed no inclinationwhatever to go on, I left them and went on with my boys. We had todive into a deep ravine, where we found a little water and refilledour bottles. Then we had to ascend the other side, which was trying, as we had lost the trail and had to climb over rocks and through thethickest bush I ever met. The ground was covered with a dense networkof moss-grown trunks that were mouldering there, through which weoften fell up to our shoulders, while vines and ferns wound roundour bodies, so that we did our climbing more with our arms than withour feet. After a while one of the guides joined us, but he did notknow the way; at last we found it, but there were many ups and downsbefore we attained the summit. The weather now changed, and we weresuddenly surrounded by the thick fog that always covers the Peak beforenoon. The great humidity and the altitude combine to create a peculiarvegetation in this region; the tree-ferns are tremendously developed, and the natives pretend that a peculiar species of pigeon lives here. 

I was surprised to find any paths at all up here; but the natives comehere to shoot pigeons, and several valleys converge at Santo Peak, so that there are important passes near its summits. One of my boysgave out here, and we left him to repose. The rest of the way was notdifficult, but we were all very tired when we reached the top. Therewas another summit, a trifle higher, separated from the first bya long ridge, but we contented ourselves with the one we were on, especially as we could see absolutely nothing. I was much disappointed, as on a clear day the view of Santo and the whole archipelago mustbe wonderful. I deposited a bottle with a paper of statistics, which some native has probably found by this time. We were wet andhungry, and as it was not likely that the fog would lift, we began thedescent. Without the natives I never could have found the way back inthe fog; but they followed the path easily enough, and half-way downwe met the other guides coming slowly up the mountain. They seemedpleased to have escaped the tiresome climb; possibly they may havehad other reasons for their dislike of the Peak. They were ratherdisappointed, I thought, that I had had my way in spite of theirresistance. They now promised to lead us back by another route, andwe descended a narrow valley for several hours; then came a long halt, as my guides had to chat with friends in a village we passed. At lastI fairly had to drive them away, and we went down another valley, where we found a few women bathing in a stream, who ran away at thesight of us. We bathed, and then enjoyed an excellent meal of taro, which one of the guides had brought from the village. Before leaving, one of my boys carefully collected all the peelings of my food, andthrew them into the river, so that I might not be poisoned by them, he said. A last steep climb ended the day's exertions, and we enteredthe village where we were to sleep. While the guides bragged to themen of their feats, the women brought us food and drink, and I hada chance to rest and look about me. 

I was struck by the great number of women and the very small numberof men in this place; after a while I found out the reason, which wasthat ten of the men had been kidnapped by a Frenchman while on theirway to a plantation on the Segond Channel, where they meant to worka few days. The women are now deprived of their husbands for at leastthree years, unless they find men in some other village. If five of theten ever return, it will be a good average, and it is more than likelythat they will find a deserted and ruined village if they do come back. 

This is one of many illustrations of how the present recruitingsystem and the laxity of the French authorities combine to ruin thenative population. (I have since heard that by request of the Britishauthorities these men were brought back, but only after about ninemonths had passed, and without receiving any compensation. Mostkidnapping cases never come to the ears of the authorities at all. )

As our expedition was nearly at an end, and I had no reason toeconomize my provisions, I gave some to the villagers, and thewomen especially who had hardly ever tasted rice or tinned meat, were delighted. One old hag actually made me a declaration of love, which, unfortunately, I could not respond to in the same spirit. 

Night crept across the wide sea, and a golden sunset was followed by along afterglow. Far away on the softly shining silver we saw a sail, small as a fly, that drifted slowly seaward and was swallowed up bythe darkness, from which the stars emerged one by one. The women haddisappeared in the huts; the men were sitting outside, around thefires, and, thinking I was asleep, talked about me in biche la mar. 

First they wondered why a man should care to climb up a mountainsimply to come down again; and my boys told them of all my doings, about my collecting curios and skulls, of my former wanderings and theexperiences we had had, and how often the others had tried to shootme, etc. In short, I found out a great many things I had never known, and I shivered a little at hearing what I had escaped, if all theboys said was true. At last, when I had been sufficiently discussed, which was long after midnight, they lay down, each beside a small fire, and snored into the cool, clear night. 

The following morning was brilliantly fine. We took a hearty leaveof our hosts, and raced, singing and shouting, down the steep hills, and so home. The fine weather was at an end. The sky was cloudy, thebarometer fell and a thin rain pierced everything. Two days later thesteamer arrived, and I meant to go aboard, but a heavy swell from thewest set in, such as I had never seen before, although not a breath ofwind was stirring. These rollers were caused by a cyclone, and gave ussome idea of its violence. I despaired of ever reaching the steamer, but Mr. B. Was an expert sailor, and making the most of a slight lull, he brought me safely through the surf and on board. His goods, however, could not be loaded on to the steamer, which immediately sailed. Wepassed New Year's Eve and New Year's Day at anchor in South-West Bay, Malekula, while a terrific gale whipped the water horizontally towardthe ship and across the deck. We spent gloomy holidays, shut up in thedamp, dark steamer, unable to stay on deck, restless and uncomfortablebelow. How one learns to appreciate the British impassiveness whichhelps one, in such conditions, to spend a perfectly happy day witha pipe and a talk about the weather!

On the morning of the third day we lay off the east coast of Malekula, on a blue, shining sea, with all the landscape as peaceful and brightas if there were no such thing as a cyclone in the world. 

I landed, packed my collections, which I had left in Vao, and, with thehelp of a missionary, I reached Bushman Bay, whence Mr. H. Kindly tookme to Vila. There H. B. M. Resident Commissioner, Mr. Morton King, didme the honour of offering me his hospitality, so that I was suddenlytransplanted to all the luxuries of civilized life once more. I spentthe days packing the collections awaiting me at Vila, and which I foundin fairly good condition; the evenings were passed in the interestingsociety of Mr. King, who had travelled extensively and was an authorityon matters relating to the Orient. He inspired me with admirationfor the British system of colonial politics with its truly idealistictendencies. The weeks I spent at Port Vila will always be a pleasantmemory of a time of rest and comfort and stimulating intercourse. 

In February I left for Nouméa, where I hoped to meet two friends andcolleagues, Dr. Fritz Sarasin and Dr. Jean Roux, who were coming toNew Caledonia in order to pursue studies similar to mine. The time Ispent with them was rich in interest and encouragement, and in MarchI returned to the New Hebrides with renewed energy. 

CHAPTER XI

AMBRYM

It was a miserable little boat in which I sailed from Nouméa. Wewere to have started on a Monday, but it was Friday before wegot off. The boat was overloaded. On deck there was a quantity oftimber, also cattle, pigs, sheep and calves, all very seasick anduncomfortable. The deck was almost on a level with the water, and evenwhile still inside the reef occasional waves broke over the gunwaleand flooded the ship. At nightfall we entered the open ocean. Nowthe waves began to pour on to the deck from all sides, and the bowof the vessel dived into the sea as if it were never going to riseagain. The night was dark, shreds of cloud raced across a steel-greysky, while a greenish patch showed the position of the moon. At thehorizon glistened an uncertain light, but the sea was a black abyss, out of which the phosphorescent waves appeared suddenly, rolledswiftly nearer and broke over the ship as if poured down from above. 

I looked on without another thought save that of pity for the poor sickcalves, when the captain whispered in my ear that things looked bad, as the ship was much too heavily loaded. In the darkness I could seenothing but that the boat was very deep in the water, and that herbow, instead of rising on the waves, dug into them. On deck a quantityof water ran backward and forward in a wave as high as the bulwarks, and it seemed as if the ship could scarcely right herself when onceshe lay over on one side. The growing excitement of the captain, his nervous consultations with the engineer and the supercargo, weremost uncomfortable; presently the passengers began to take part inthe deliberations, and to observe the behaviour of the ship. As ourcourse gave us a sidewise current, the captain ordered the sails to behoisted, in order to lessen the rolling; but the sea was too heavy, and we shipped still more water and rolled alarmingly. The captainsighed, ran hither and thither, then lowered the sails and took amore westerly course, in the direction of one of the Loyalty Islands;thus we had the current from behind, which made things still worse, as the sea, rolling along the ship, filled the deck from both sides;and as the bulwarks were blocked up by the lumber, the water couldnot run off, thus adding an enormous weight to the already overloadedship; the water ran forward, pressing down the bow, while the sternreared upward. 

When the captain saw the state of affairs, he lost his head completely, and began to lament piteously: "We do not want to drown, no, we do notwant to drown; but we are going to. Oh, my poor wife and children! Doyou like to drown, doctor?" I denied this energetically, but I couldnot help looking at the dark sea and trying to get used to the idea ofa closer acquaintance with it. The feeling of insecurity was increasedby the knowledge that the boat was old and in poor repair, and mightspring a leak at any moment. 

Meanwhile the skipper had turned her round and was making headwayagainst the waves, but still her bow would not lift, and the captainwept still more. His womanish behaviour disgusted me. At last a quietpassenger, an experienced sailor, gave some advice, which the skipperfollowed, and which helped matters a little, so that he regained hisself-control to the extent of calling a general council; he announcedthat he dared not continue the voyage, and asked our consent toreturn to Nouméa. We all agreed, and about midnight we approached thereef. Now there are lights in the passage, but they are so poor as tobe invisible until the traveller is already in the passage, so thatthey are of little use. We were trying to find the entrance, when theexperienced seaman I mentioned before, who was keeping a look out, called out that we were close to the breakers and surrounded by thereef. The only thing we could do was to turn seaward again and beatabout till daylight. After some hours the wind fell and the worst wasover; still, the night was unpleasant enough, and frequent squallskept us awake. We were all glad when the day broke and we were ableto enter the passage. We landed at Nouméa in the finest of weather, and our unexpected return created quite a sensation. We passengersconvinced ourselves that the cargo was considerably reduced beforestarting out again the next day. 

This time we arrived safely at Port Vila, where the British andFrench native police forces came aboard, bound for Santo, to quella disturbance at Hog Harbour; and so the hapless boat was overloadedagain, this time with passengers. 

Next day we arrived at Epi, and I landed at Ringdove Bay. Thestation of the Messrs. F. And H. Is one of the oldest in theislands. Besides running a plantation, they trade with the natives, and their small cutters go to all the neighbouring islands for coprahand other produce. There is always plenty of life and movement at thestation, as there are usually a few of the vessels lying at anchor, and natives coming in from all sides in their whale-boats to buy orsell something. From Malekula one can often see them tacking aboutall day, or, if there is a calm, drifting slowly along, as they aretoo lazy to row. When they have found the passage through the reef, they pull down the sails with much noise and laughter, and come toanchor; then the whole crowd wades through the surf to the shore, with the loads of coprah, and waits patiently for business to begin. 

On these stations, where almost everyone is squeezed into decentEuropean clothes, it is a charming sight to see the naked bodies ofthe genuine savages, all the more so as only young and able-bodiedmen take part in these cruises, under the leadership of one older andmore experienced companion. Their beauty is doubly striking besidethe poor station hands, wrapped in filthy calico. 

When the coprah has been bought and paid for, they all go to thestore, where they buy whatever they need or think they need. Thenative of the coast districts to-day goes beyond needs to luxuries;he buys costly silks, such as he may once have seen in Queensland, and he samples sewing-machines or whatever else tempts him. Inconsequence of competition, the prices for coprah and the wages oflabour are unreasonably high, and the natives might profit greatlyby this state of things if they knew the value of money or how touse it to advantage. But, as a rule, they spend it for any nonsensethey may fancy, to the joy of the trader, who makes an average profitof 50 per cent. On all commodities; or else the natives economizeto buy a pig (tusked pigs have brought as much as forty pounds), or they bury their money. 

It is astonishing how easily a native might make a small fortunehere, and how little use he makes of his opportunities, not onlyfrom laziness, but also because he has no wants. Nature suppliesfood in abundance without any effort on his part, so that matches, tobacco, a pipe and a knife satisfy all his needs, and he can spendall the rest of his money for pleasure. Thus the native, in spite ofeverything, is economically master of the situation in his own country, and many traders have been made to realize this fact to their cost, when the natives, to avenge some ill-treatment, have simply boycotteda station. Needless to say that the traders always do their best toexcite the natives' cupidity by exhibiting the most tempting objects, and, careful as the islander may be when buying necessaries, he iscareless enough when luxuries are in question. 

The house of the planters is a long, low building with whitewashedwalls, a broad, flat roof and wide verandas. Around it is an abandonedgarden, and one feels that long ago a woman's hand must have workedhere; but now no one cares about keeping the surroundings cleanand pretty, and the wilderness is reclaiming its own and advancingsteadily towards the house. Inside, the house is clean and neat;from the veranda there is a splendid view over the sea, in which thesun disappears at evening. 

The employés are quiet people, who have but little to say; the weatherand speculations as to the name and destination of some far-offsail are their chief topics. After lunch they sit in easy-chairs, enjoying the breeze and reading the papers. Soon the "Bubu" callsto work once more, and the natives come creeping out of their huts, away from their ever-burning fires. 

The production of coprah varies greatly on the different islands. Whileon some of them there is scarcely any to be had, there are others whichare practically covered with cocoa-nut trees; this is chiefly thecase on islands of volcanic origin, on which springs and rivers arevery scarce. It has been supposed that the natives, being dependenton the water of the cocoa-nut as a beverage, had planted these treesvery extensively. This is not quite exact, although it is a fact thatin these islands the natives hardly ever taste any other water thanthat of the cocoa-nut. 

In sun and shower, the natives work in the plantations in long rows, the women together with their husbands or with other women at somelighter task. The men dislike to be separated from their wives, forthey are very jealous; neither do they approve of the women discussingtheir husbands among themselves. For light work the women are moreuseful, as they are more accustomed to regular work from their youthup than the men, who are used to spending their days in easy laziness. 

Towards sunset, the "Bubu" announces the end of work, and the nativesstroll towards their quarters, simple huts of straw, where each man hashis couch, with a trunk underneath containing his belongings. Mealsare prepared by a cook, and the men go to fetch their rations, rice, yam, or taro. Sometimes there is meat, but not often, except inplaces where wild pig is plentiful. In that case, it is simplest forthe master to send his boys shooting every Sunday, when it dependson themselves if they are to have meat during the coming weekor not. After the meal, the natives sit round the fires chatting, gossiping and telling fairy-tales. They know stories of all sorts ofmonsters and demons, and excite each other by tales of these horrorsto such a degree, that bad dreams or even a general panic are oftenthe consequence, and the whole crowd turns out in the middle of thenight, declaring that the place is haunted, and that they have seena devil, who looked thus and so. If someone suddenly dies in a hut, it is worst of all. Death is invariably caused, so they all believe, by poison or witchcraft, and the natives will build another houseof their own accord rather than go on living in one they considerhaunted. If a planter loses many hands by death, his plantation getsa bad reputation, and the natives refuse to work there; so that it isto the planter's advantage to take some care of their labourers, andthey do so to a certain extent, whereas in former years the mortalityon French plantations was very high, as much as 44 per cent. Per annum. 

Sometimes, especially on moonlight nights, the boys wish to dance, and they all go to the beach and spend the whole night singing anddancing. Another amusement is hunting for crayfish on the reef atlow tide. 

My boys' term of service was over in a month. They were very muchafraid of being taken to another island, which was natural in a way, as a savage is really not as safe in a strange place as a whiteman. Besides, they had had their desire and had seen Nouméa, so thatthere was no longer any inducement for them to stay with me. Theyaccordingly became most disagreeable, slow, sulky and sleepier thanever, and as I could not be punishing them all day long, life withthem became somewhat trying. It is disappointing to find so littlegratitude, but the natives are quite unaccustomed to be treatedbetter by a white man than his interest demands, so that they suspecta trap in every act of kindness. Under the circumstances, I thoughtit best to dismiss my boys, and, finding little of interest in Epi, the natives having nearly all died out, I boarded the Australiansteamer for Ambrym. 

Although Ambrym is only twenty-five miles from Epi, I was five dayson the way, so zigzag a route did the steamer pursue. But if one isnot in a hurry, life on board is quite entertaining. The first day weanchored near the volcano of Lopevi, a lofty peak that rises from abase six kilomètres in diameter to a height of 1440 mètres, giving itssides an average slope of 48° which offers rather an unusual sight. Thewhole of Lopevi is rarely to be seen, as its top is usually coveredwith a thick cloud of fog or volcanic steam. It is still active, and but few whites have ascended it. At periods of great activity, the natives climb to the top and bring sacrifices to appease it, by throwing cocoa-nuts and yam into the crater. 

We touched at Port Sandwich, and then steamed along the coast ofMalekula, calling every few miles at some plantation to dischargegoods, horses, cattle and fowls, and take on maize or coprah. Atlast we arrived at Dip Point, Ambrym, where I was kindly received byDr. B. Of the Presbyterian Mission, who is in charge of the fine largehospital there. Its situation is not more picturesque than others, but the place has been made so attractive that one can hardly imaginea more lovely and restful sight. The buildings stand on level groundthat slopes softly down to the beach. The bush has been cleared, with the exception of a number of gigantic fig trees, that overshadowa green lawn. Under their airy roof there is always a light breeze, blowing from the hills down to the sea. In the blue distance risesAoba, and the long-drawn coast of Malekula disappears in the mist. Aquieter, sweeter place for convalescents does not exist, and even thenative patients, who are not, as a rule, great lovers of scenery, like to lie under the trees with their bandaged limbs and heads, staring dreamily into the green and blue and sunny world. 

Dr. B. Is an excellent surgeon, famous all over the group, not onlyamong the white population, but among the natives as well, who arebeginning to appreciate his work. Formerly they used to demand paymentfor letting him operate on them, but now many come of their own accord, so that the hospital never lacks patients. The good that Dr. B. Doesthese people can hardly be overrated, and the Presbyterian Missiondeserves great credit for having established the hospital; but itis a regrettable fact that all these efforts are not strong enoughto counteract other effects of civilization, such as alcoholism, which is the curse of the native race, especially on Ambrym. 

Although the sale of alcohol to natives is strictly prohibited by thelaws of the Condominium, the French pay no attention to these rules, and sell it in quantities without being called to account. The sale ofliquor is the simplest means of acquiring wealth, as the profit on onebottle may amount to five shillings. The natives of Ambrym spend alltheir money on drink, and as they are quite rich and buy wholesale, the results, in money for the trader and in death for the native, areconsiderable. For they drink in a senseless way, simply pouring downone bottle after the other, until they are quite overcome. Some neverwake up again; others have dangerous attacks of indigestion from thepoison they have consumed; still more catch colds or pneumonia fromlying drunk on the ground all night. Quarrels and fights are frequent, and it is not a rare sight to see a whole village, men, women andchildren, rolling on the sand completely intoxicated. The degenerationwhich results from this is all the sadder, as originally the raceon Ambrym was particularly healthy, vigorous and energetic. Theseconditions are well known to both governments, and might be suppressedon the French side as easily as they are on the English; but theFrench government seems to take more interest in the welfare of anex-convict than in that of the native race, although the latter isone of the most important sources of wealth on the islands, settingaside all considerations of humanity. If the liquor traffic is notspeedily suppressed, the population is doomed. 

Ambrym offers quite a different aspect from the coral islands, asits sloping sides are seamed by streams of lava, the course of whichmay be traced by the breaks in the forest, as the glowing mass flowsslowly down to the coast, congealing in the water to peculiarly shapedjagged rocks. Every few hundred yards we find one of these black wallson the shore in which the sea foams, and the sand that covers thebeaches is black too. In dull weather all this looks extremely gloomy, monotonous and imposing--the war of two elements, fire and water;and this dark, stern landscape is far more impressive than the gay, smiling coral beach with the quiet blue sea. 

My stay on Ambrym was very pleasant. By the help of Dr. B. , Iwas enabled to find four bright boys, willing and cheerful, withwhom I used to start out from Dip Point in the mornings, visit theneighbouring villages, and return loaded with objects of all sorts atnoon; the afternoons were devoted to work in the house. The weatherwas exceptionally favourable, and the walks through the dewy forest, on the soft paths of black volcanic dust, in the cool, dark ravines, with occasional short climbs and delightful glimpses of the coast, were almost too enjoyable to be regarded as a serious duty. 

The culture of Ambrym is similar to that of Malekula, as is plainlyshown by the natives' dress. The men wear the bark belt and the nambas, which they buy on Malekula; the dress of the women is the same as thatworn in central Malekula, and consists of an apron of pandanus orsome similar fibre, wound several times round the waist; this formsa thick roll, not unlike ballet skirts, but more graceful. It is apretty dress, though somewhat scanty, and the "skirts" flap up anddown coquettishly when the wearer walks. The other parts of the bodyare covered with a thick layer of soot, filth, oil, fat and smoke, for the Ambrymese are not at all fond of bathing. 

The villages are open, rarely surrounded by a hedge. The houses arerather close together, grouped irregularly in a clearing; a littleapart, on a square by themselves, are the houses of the secretsocieties, surrounded by images and large drums. The dwelling-housesare rather poor-looking huts, with low walls and roofs and anexceedingly small entrance which is only to be passed through onone's hands and knees. Decency demands that the women should alwaysenter the houses backward, and this occasions funny sights, as theylook out of their huts like so many dogs from their kennels. 

As a rule, the first event on my entering a village was that the womenand children ran away shrieking and howling; those not quite so near mestared suspiciously, then retired slowly or began to giggle. Then a fewmen would appear, quite accidentally, of course, and some curious boysfollowed. My servants gave information as to my person and purpose, and huge laughter was the result: they always thought me perfectlymad. However, they admired me from all sides, and asked all sortsof questions of my boys: what was my name, where did I live, was Ikind, was I rich, what did I have to eat, did I smoke or drink, howmany shirts and trousers did I have, how many guns and what kinds, etc. The end of it was, that they either took me for a dangeroussorcerer, and withdrew in fear, or for a fool to be got the betterof. In the latter case, they would run eagerly to their houses andbring out some old broken article to offer for sale. A few sarcasticremarks proved useful; but it was always some time before they realizedwhat I wanted. The fine old possessions from which they did not liketo part would suddenly turn out to be the property of someone else, which was a polite way of saying, "we have that, but you won't get it. "

In this way collecting was a very tiresome and often disappointingprocess of bargaining, encouraging, begging and flattering; often, justas I was going away, some man or other would call me aside to say thathe had decided to sell after all, and was ready to accept any price. 

Horror and silent consternation were aroused when I asked forskulls. "Lots over there, " they said, pointing to an enclosed thicket, their burying-ground. Only very rarely a man would bring me a skull, at the end of a long stick. Once I started on the quest myself, armed with a shovel and spade; as my servants were too much afraidof the dead to help, I had to dig for myself. A man loafed near by, attracted by the excited chatter of some old women. He told me sadlythat I was digging up his papa, although it was a woman; then hebegan to help with some show of interest, assuring me that his papahad two legs, whereas at first I could find but one. A stranger hadgiven me permission to dig, so as to play a trick on the son; butthe latter was quite reconciled when I paid him well. For a week allthe village talked of nothing but the white madman who dug up bones;I became a celebrity, and people made excursions from a distance tocome and stare at me. 

Although the Suque is highly developed here, there are other secretsocieties whose importance, however, is decreasing, as they arebeing more or less absorbed by the Suque. As each of these clubs hasits own house, we sometimes find quite a number of such huts in onevillage, where they take the place of gamals. Each Suque high castehas his own house, which the low castes may not enter. The casteof the proprietor may be seen by the material of which the hedge ismade, the lower castes having hedges of wood and logs, the highest, walls of stone and coral slabs. Inside the courtyard, each man livesalone, served only by his wives, who are allowed to cook his food. Theseparation of the sexes is not so severe on Ambrym as on Santo. On thewhole, it would seem that in the past Ambrym had a position apart, and that only lately several forms of cult have been imported fromMalekula and mingled with genuinely local rites. Even to-day, it isnot rare for a man from Ambrym to settle for a while on Malekula, soas to be initiated into some rites which he then imports to Ambrym;and the Ambrymese pay poets large fees to teach them poems whichare to be sung at certain feasts, accompanied by dances. Unhappily, I never had occasion to attend one of these "sing-songs. "

The originality of Ambrym has been preserved in its sculpture only. Thematerial used is tree-fern wood, which is used nowhere else but inthe Banks Islands. The type of human being represented differs fromthat on the other islands, especially as regards the more moon-shapedform of the head. Representations of the whole body are frequent, so are female statues; these I have only found again in Gaua, wherethey are probably modern inventions. Sometimes a fish or a bird iscarved on the statue, probably as a survival of old totemistic ideas, and meant to represent the totem animal of the ancestor or of hisclan. The meaning of these carvings is quite obscure to the natives, and they answer questions in a very vague way, so that it is probablethat totemistic ideas are dying out in the New Hebrides. 

Most of the statues are meant to represent an ancestor. If a native isin trouble, he blows his whistle at nightfall near the statue, and ifhe hears a noise, he thinks the spirit of the ancestor has approachedand entered the statue, and he proceeds to tell the statue his sorrowsand ask the spirit for help. Occasionally sacrifices are made to thefigures, as is shown by the pigs' jaws frequently found tied to them. 

The Ambrymese conceptions of the spirit world are very similar tothose of other islanders. The native likes to wear on his back orchest or arm the tusks of the most valuable pigs he has sacrificed, and has them buried with him, so that in the other world he may atany time be able to prove how much he respected his ancestors. 

The centre of the dancing grounds is generally occupied by the bigdrums, not quite so numerous but better made than those of Malekula. Bythe drums, too, the caste of the proprietor may be recognized: thehigher his standing, the more heads are carved on them. Horizontaldrums are sometimes found, but they are always small, and only serveto accompany the sound of the larger ones. 

There are usually a few men sitting round the drums, playing games. Onegame is played by two men sitting opposite to each other; one sticksa small shell into the ground, and his opponent tries to hit it withanother. There does not seem to be any winning or losing, as in ourgames, but they keep it up for hours and even days. Another favouritegame borders on the marvellous. One man has six shells and the otherfive. Each in turn puts a shell on the ground, and when they haveall been dealt, each in turn picks up one at a time, when the one whohad six before has five, and the one who had only five has six. Theystare at each other, wonder, and try it again; behold, the one whohad six at the beginning has five now and the other six. They tryagain and again, and each time the shell changes hands, and nobodycan explain how on earth it could have jumped from one man to theother. It seems too strange to be natural, and while a cold shivercreeps up their backs, they play on and on, with ever new delightand wonder. At such enviable pastimes these people spend their daysand kill time, which would otherwise hang heavy on their hands. Tops, nicely made from nuts, are a popular toy; and there are other games, more sportsmanlike, such as throwing reeds to a distance, and throwingwooden shells, at which two villages often compete against each other. 

After I had exhausted the surroundings of Dip Point, I marched alongthe coast to Port Vato, where I lived in an abandoned mission house, in the midst of a thickly populated district. At present, the peopleare quiet, and go about as they please; but not long ago, the villageslived in a constant state of feud among themselves, so that no mandared go beyond his district alone, and the men had to watch thewomen while they were at work in the fields, for fear of attack. Thesense of insecurity was such that many people who lived in villagesonly twenty minutes' walk from the coast had never seen the ocean. Thepopulation as a whole enjoys the state of peace, which the missionarieshave brought about, though there are always mischief-makers who tryto create new feuds, and there is no doubt that the old wars wouldbreak out anew, if the natives were left to themselves. 

These disturbances were not very destructive in the days of the oldweapons; it is only since the introduction of firearms that theyhave become a real danger to the race as a whole. They even had theiradvantages, in forcing the men to keep themselves in condition, andin providing them with a regular occupation, such as preparing theirweapons, or training, or guarding the village and the women. With theend of the feuds, the chief occupation of the men disappeared, and butfew of them have found any serious work to take up their time. Thuscivilization, even in its role of peace-maker, has replaced one evilby another. 

In this district, I could go about with my servants wherever I pleased;only one Santo boy I had with me did not feel safe, and suddenlydeveloped great interest in cooking, which allowed him to stay athome while the rest of us went on expeditions. His cooking was notabove reproach; he would calmly clean a dirty cup with his fingers, the kitchen towels occasionally served as his head-dress, and one dayhe tried to make curry with some iodoform I had left in a bottle onthe table. However, I had learned long ago not to be too particular, and not to take too much interest in the details of the kitchen. 

An exceptionally bright man had offered me his services as guide, and with his help I obtained many objects I would never have foundalone. He had a real understanding of what I wanted, and plentyof initiative. He made the women bring their modest possessions, and they approached, crawling on their hands and knees, for theyare not allowed to walk before the men. Later on the men appearedwith better things. It is an odd fact that all over the archipelagothe owner rarely brings things himself, but generally gives themto a friend. This may be due to the desire to avoid the ridiculethey would surely be exposed to if their possessions were to berefused. The extreme sensitiveness and pride with which the nativesfeel every refusal and are deeply hurt by any rebuke, may surprisethose who look on them as savages, incapable of any finer sentiment;but whoever learns to know them a little better will find that theyhave great delicacy of feeling, and will be struck by the politenessthey show a stranger, and by the kind and obliging way in which theytreat each other. It must be admitted that this is often enoughonly a veneer, under which all sorts of hatred, malice, and alluncharitableness are hidden, just as among civilized people; still, the manners of the crudest savages are far superior to those of mostof the whites they meet. 

One sign of this sensitiveness is their reluctance to express anydesire, for fear of a refusal. I saw a daily illustration of this, whenmy boys wanted the tin of meat for dinner which was their due. Althoughthey might have taken it themselves, a different boy came each dayto the room where I was writing, and waited patiently for some time, then began coughing with increasing violence, until I asked what hewanted. Then he would shyly stammer out his request. Never would theyaccost me or otherwise disturb me while I was writing or reading;yet at other times they could be positively impertinent, especiallyif excited. The islander is very nervous; when he is quiet, he is shyand reticent, but once he is aroused, all his bad instincts run riot, and incredible savageness and cruelty appear. The secret of successfultreatment of the natives seems to be to keep them very quiet, and neverto let any excitement arise, a point in which so many whites fail. 

They are very critical and observant, and let no weakness pass withoutsarcastic comment; yet their jokes are rarely offensive, and in theend the victim usually joins in the general laughter. On the whole, the best policy is one of politeness, justice and consistency; andafter many years, one may possibly obtain their confidence, althoughone always has to be careful and circumspect in every little detail. 

In general, the Ambrymese are more agreeable than the Santopeople. They seem more manly, less servile, more faithful and reliable, more capable of open enmity, more clever and industrious, and notso sleepy. 

Assisted by my excellent guide, I set about collecting, which was notalways a simple matter. I was very anxious to procure a "bull-roarer, "and made my man ask for one, to the intense surprise of the others;how could I have known of the existence of these secret and sacredutensils? The men called me aside, and begged me never to speakof this to the women, as these objects are used, like many others, to frighten away the women and the uninitiated from the assembliesof the secret societies. The noise they make is supposed to be thevoice of a mighty and dangerous demon, who attends these assemblies. 

They whispered to me that the instruments were in the men's house, and I entered it, amid cries of dismay, for I had intruded into theirholy of holies, and was now standing in the midst of all the secrettreasures which form the essential part of their whole cult. However, there I was, and very glad of my intrusion, for I found myself in aregular museum. In the smoky beams of the roof there hung half-finishedmasks, all of the same pattern, to be used at a festival in the nearfuture; there was a set of old masks, some with nothing left butthe wooden faces, while the grass and feather ornaments were gone;old idols; a face on a triangular frame, which was held particularlysacred; two perfectly marvellous masks with long noses with thorns, carefully covered with spider-web cloth. This textile is a specialityof Ambrym, and serves especially for the preparation and wrapping ofmasks and amulets. Its manufacture is simple: a man walks through thewoods with a split bamboo, and catches all the innumerable spider-webshanging on the trees. As the spider-web is sticky, the threads clingtogether, and after a while a thick fabric is formed, in the shapeof a conical tube, which is very solid and defies mould and rot. Atthe back of the house, there stood five hollow trunks, with bamboosleading into them. Through these, the men howl into the trunk, whichreverberates and produces a most infernal noise, well calculated tofrighten others besides women. For the same purpose cocoa-nut shellswere used, which were half filled with water, and into which a mangurgled through a bamboo. All this was before my greedy eyes, but Icould obtain only a very few articles. Among them was a bull-roarer, which a man sold me for a large sum, trembling violently with fear, and beseeching me not to show it to anybody. He wrapped it up socarefully, that the small object made an immense parcel. Some of themasks are now used for fun; the men put them on and run through theforest, and have the right to whip anybody they meet. This, however, is a remnant of a very serious matter, as formerly the secret societiesused these masks to terrorize all the country round, especially peoplewho were hostile to the society, or who were rich or friendless. 

These societies are still of great importance on New Guinea, but herethey have evidently degenerated. It is not improbable that the Suquehas developed from one of these organizations. Their decay is anothersymptom of the decline of the entire culture of the natives; and otherfacts seem to point to the probability that this decadence may haveset in even before the beginning of colonization by the whites. 

My visit to the men's house ended, and seeing no prospects of acquiringany more curiosities, I went to the dancing-ground, where most of themen were assembled at a death-feast, it being the hundredth day afterthe funeral of one of their friends. In the centre of the square, near the drums, stood the chief, violently gesticulating. The crowddid not seem pleased at my coming, and criticized me in undertones. Aterrible smell of decomposed meat filled the air; evidently theyhad all partaken of a half-rotten pig, and the odour did not seem totrouble them at all. 

The chief was a tall man, bald-headed, wearing the nambas, of largersize than those of the others, and with both arms covered with pigs'tusks to show his rank. He looked at me angrily, came up to me, andsat down, not without having first swept the ground with his foot, evidently in order not to come into contact with any charm that anenemy might have thrown there. One of the men wanted me to buy aflute, asking just double what I was willing to give; seeing that Idid not intend to pay so much, he made me a present of the flute, and seemed just as well pleased. Still, the others stared at mesilently and suspiciously, until I offered some tobacco to the chief, which he accepted with a joke, whereat everybody laughed and the icewas broken. The men forgot their reserve, and talked about me inloud tones, looking at me as we might at a hopelessly mad person, half pitying, half amused at his vagaries. The chief now wished toshake hands with me, though he did not trouble to get up for theceremony. We smiled pleasantly at each other, and then he took meto his house, which, according to his high rank, was surrounded bya stone wall. He rummaged about inside for a long time, and finallybrought out a few paltry objects; I thought best to pay well for them, telling him that as he was a "big fellow-master, " I was ready topay extra for the honour of having a souvenir of him. This flatteredhim so much that he consented to have his photograph taken; and heposed quite cleverly, while the others walked uneasily around us, looking at the camera as if it were likely to explode at any moment;and as none of them dared have his picture taken, I left. 

Rounding a bend of the path on my way home, I suddenly came upon ayoung woman. First she looked at me in deadly fright, then, with aterrified cry, she jumped over the fence, and burst into hystericallaughter, while a dozen invisible women shrieked; then they all ranaway, and as I went on, I could hear that the flight had ceased and theshrieks changed to hearty laughter. They had taken me for a kidnapper, or feared some other harm, as was natural enough with their experienceof certain kinds of white men. 

Walking along, I heard the explosions of the volcano like a far-awaycannonade. The dull shocks gave my walk a peculiar solemnity, but thebush prevented any outlook, and only from the coast I occasionallysaw the volcanic clouds mounting into the sky. 

From the old mission-house the view on a clear day is splendid. Onthe slope stand a few large trees, whose cleft leaves framethe indescribably blue sea, which breaks in snowy lines inthe lava-boulders below. Far off, I can see Malekula, with itsforest-covered mountains, and summer clouds hanging above it. Itis a dreamlike summer day, so beautiful, bright and mild as to behardly real. One feels a certain regret at being unable to absorball the beauty, at having to stand apart as an outsider, a patch onthe brightness rather than a part of it. 

At night the view is different, but just as enchanting. A fine dustfrom the volcano floats in the air and the pale moonlight plays softlyon the smooth surface of the bay, filling the atmosphere with silver, so that everything shines in the white light, the long, flat point, the forest; even the bread-fruit tree on the slope, whose outline cutssharply into the brightness, is not black, but a darker silver. Inthe greenish sky the stars glitter, not sharply as they do elsewhere, but like fine dots, softly, quietly, as if a negligent hand hadsprinkled them lightly about. And down by the water the breakersroll, crickets cry, a flying-fox chatters and changes from one treeto the other with tired wings, passing in a shapeless silhouette infront of the moon. It is the peace of paradise, dreamlike, wishless;one never tires of listening to the holy tropical night, for thereis secret life everywhere. In the quiet air the trees shiver, themoonlight trembles in the bushes and stirs imperceptibly in the lawn;and from the indistinct sounds of which the mind is hardly consciousthe fancy weaves strange stories. We see all those creatures thatfrighten the natives under the roof of the forest, giants with crabs'claws, men with fiery eyes, women that turn into deadly serpents, vague, misty souls of ancestors, that pass through the branches andappear to their descendants; all that we dream of in our northernmidsummer night wakes in tenfold strength here. 

Suddenly, violent shocks shake the house, explosions follow, likedistant shots, and the thin, misty silver is changed to a red glow. Thevolcano is in action, --a dull, reddish-yellow light mounts slowly upbehind the black trees, thick smoke rises and rises, until it stands, a dark monster, nearly touching the zenith, its foot still in thered glare. Slowly the fire dies out, the cloud parts, and it is darknight again, with the silver of the moon brooding everywhere. 

But the charm is broken by this warning from the primitive powers thatcounterbalance each other behind the peace of the tropic night. By andby, one grows accustomed to the uncanny neighbourhood of the volcano, and only the more formidable eruptions attract notice. Sometimes, while at work, I hear one of the boys exclaim, "Huh, huh!" to callmy attention to the fact that a particularly violent outbreak hastaken place; and, indeed, half the sky is a dirty red, the smokerises behind the trees as if from a gigantic bonfire, and the dulldetonations resound. The glowing lava flies high in the air, and comesdown in a great curve. One of these performances lasted several hours, presaging a wonderful spectacle for my visit to the volcano, whichwas set for the next day. 

Several natives joined my party, evidently thinking it safer to goto see the "fire" in my company than alone. Yet the Ambrymese ingeneral show remarkably little fear of the volcano, and regard it asa powerful but somewhat clumsy and rather harmless neighbour, whereason other islands legend places the entrance to hell in the craters. 

Quite a company of us marched through the forest, accompanied by thecannonading of the volcano; we felt as if we were going to battle. Wetraversed the plain and mounted the foot-hills; halfway up, we observedan eruption, but we could see only the cloud, as the crater itselfwas hidden by hills. Through thick bush, we came to a watercourse, a narrow gully, formed by lava-streams. The rocks in the river-bed hadbeen polished smooth by the water, and though the natives walked overthem with ease, my nailed boots gave me great trouble, and I had tocross many slippery spots on my hands and knees, which greatly amusedmy companions. We passed many tree-ferns, whose dainty crowns seemedto float on the surface of the forest--like stars, and often coveredthe whole bush, so that the slopes looked like a charming carpet ofthe loveliest pattern. This tree, the most beautiful of the tropicalforest, far surpasses the palm in elegance, whose crown too oftenlooks yellowish and unkempt. 

For a few hours we followed the river, which led nearly to the edge ofthe plateau. When the path branched off, I called a halt for lunch, as we were not likely to find any water later on. We were now quitenear the craters, and while we ate our rice, we heard the roaring, so that the boys grew nervous, till the joker of the company madethem laugh, and then the meal absorbed their attention. Still, theyoccasionally sent furtive glances skyward, to see if any lava wascoming down upon us. 

Having filled all our vessels with water, we marched on, and after ashort ascent, found ourselves on the great plain, 650 mètres abovesea-level, about 12 kilomètres in diameter, and shaped like a hugedinner-plate, a chain of hills forming the rim. It would seem that thewhole plain was formerly one gigantic crater; now only two openingsare left, two craters 500 and 700 mètres high, in the north-west ofthe plain. 

The ground consists of black, coarse-grained slag, which creaks whenwalked on, and forms a fine black dust. Naturally the vegetationin this poor soil is very scanty, --only bushes and reed-grass, irregularly scattered in the valleys between little hillocks rangedin rows. This arid desert-scene is doubly surprising to the eye, owing to the sudden change from the forest to the bare plain. 

In this seemingly endless plain, the two craters rise in a boldsilhouette, grimly black. One of them stands in lifeless rigidity, from the top of the other curl a few light, white clouds of steam. Itis a depressingly dismal sight, without any organic life whatever onthe steep, furrowed slopes. 

We camped on a hillock surrounded by shrubs; on all sides spread theplain, with low hills, rounded by rain and storm, radiating from thecraters, and where these touched, a confused wilderness of hills, like a black, agitated sea, had formed. The hilltops were bare, onthe slopes there clung some yellowish moss. The farther away from thecraters, the lower the hills became, disappearing at the edge of theplain in a bluish-green belt of woods. 

The sky was cloudy, a sallow light glimmered over the plain, andthe craters lay in forbidding gloom and lifelessness, like hostilemonsters. Hardly had I set up my camera, when the western giant beganhis performance. The clouds of steam thickened, detonations followed, and at each one a brownish-grey cloud rose out of the mountain, whirled slowly upwards, and joined the grey clouds in the sky. Themountain-top glowed red, and red lumps of lava came flying out ofthe smoke and dropped behind a hill. Then all became quiet again, the mountain relapsed into lifelessness, the clouds dissolved to athick mist, and only the steam curled upward like a white plume. 

I had taken care to observe how far the lava flew, so as to know hownear it would be safe to approach. The path towards the craters wasthe continuation of the one we had followed, and led to the northshore of the island, passing between the craters. It is remarkablethat the natives should dare to use this road, and indeed it is notmuch travelled; but it speaks for the courage of the first man whohad the courage to cross the plain and pass between the craters. Thesharp points of the lava caused great suffering to the bare-footednatives, and here I had the advantage of them for once, thanks to mynailed boots. 

The clouds had disappeared, the sky shone deeply blue, everythingreminded me of former trips in other deserts. The same dry air cooledthe heat that radiated from the ground, the same silence and solemnitybrooded over the earth, there was the same colouring and the samebreadth of view. After the painful march through the forest, whereevery step had to be measured and watched, it was a joy to step outfreely and take great breaths of clear, sweet air. 

After a short, steep climb, I reached the ridge, sharp as a knife, that joins the two craters, and following it, I suddenly found myselfon the brink of the crater, from which I could overlook the great bowl, 800 mètres wide. The inside walls fell vertically to the bottom, anuncanny, spongy-looking mass of brownish lava, torn, and foaming, and smoking in white or yellowish clouds. The opposite side rosemuch higher, and the white cloud I had seen from below floated ontop. There was a smaller crater, the real opening, and through a gapin it I had a glimpse inside, but failed to see much because of thesmoke. The general view was most imposing, the steep, naked walls, the wild confusion in the crater, the red and yellow precipitateshere and there, the vicious-looking smoke from the slits, the steamthat floated over the opening, swayed mysteriously by an invisibleforce, the compactness of the whole picture, in the gigantic frameof the outer walls. There was no need of the oppressive odour, the dull roaring and thundering and hissing, to call up a degree ofreverent admiration, even fear, and it required an effort of willto stay and grow used to the tremendous sight. The first sensationon seeing the crater is certainly terror, then curiosity awakens, and one looks and wonders; yet the sight never becomes familiar, andnever loses its threatening aspect. Still, the inner crater may bea disappointment. From a distance, we see the great manifestations, the volcano in action, when its giant forces are in play and it looksgrand and monumental. From near by, we see it in repose, and the craterlooks quite insignificant. Instead of the fire we expected to see, we find lava blocks and ashes, and instead of the clash of elementalforces, we see a dark mass, that glows dully. We can hardly believethat here is the origin of the explosions that shake the island, and are inclined to consider the demon of the volcano rather as amischievous clown than a thundering, furious giant. 

I went to the slope of the eastern crater to find a spot from which Imight be able to photograph an eruption, and returned to camp just asthe sun sank down in red fire, and the evening mists formed a whitebelt around the two black mountains. The tops of the craters shonered against a cool evening sky. 

Suddenly an immense cloud shot up, white and sky-high. One side of itshone orange in the last sunbeams, the other was dull and grey, andthe top mingled with the evening clouds. It was a wildly beautifulsight, gone too soon. A hawk circled afar in the green sky, nightcrept across the plain, and soon the moon poured her silver over thetranquil scene. I hoped in vain to see an eruption equal to that ofthe last nights. Everything was quiet, the volcano seemed extinct, the fog thickened, covering the mountains and the moon. It becamedisagreeably cool, and there was a heavy dew. The natives shivered intheir blankets, and I was most uncomfortable under a light canvas. Wewere all up long before daylight, when the volcano sent out a largecloud. The sun and the fog had a long struggle, when suddenly theclouds tore apart, and the welcome sunbeams came to warm us. 

I went to the spot chosen the day before and dug my camera into thelava and waited. My impatience was quieted by the splendid view Ienjoyed, embracing nearly all the islands of the group: Epi, Malekula, Aoba, Pentecoste, and higher than all, the cone of Lopevi. All thesefloated in a soft, blue haze, and even the two craters shone in aviolet hue. 

We waited for several hours, freezing in spite of the bright sun, between the damp, mossy walls of the gully where we sat, and thevolcano remained quiet, merely hissing and roaring and emitting steam, but a real eruption did not occur then, nor for several weeks later. Wereturned to camp, packed up our things, and hurried down the slipperygullies and lava banks, diving back into the thick, heavy atmosphereof the sea-level; and at nightfall I washed off the heat and dust ofthe day in the warm waves of the ocean. 

CHAPTER XII

PENTECOSTE

The term of service of my Ambrym boys being over, I tried to replacethem in Paama, but failed; but Mr. G. Kindly took me to Epi, whereI engaged four new boys. However, they proved as sulky as they weredirty, and I was disgusted with them, and quite glad they had refusedto sign for more than a month. As they were all troubled with manysores, they were of very little service to me, and I gladly sent themhome by steamer when their month was up. 

I returned to Dip Point, and a few days later Dr. B. Escorted me toOlal, where I took up my quarters with Mr. D. , a young Australianwho was trying to make a living by the coprah trade. In Olal, atthe northern point of Ambrym, the alcohol trade is particularlyflourishing, and numerous settlers along the coast earn large sumsby selling liquor. Everybody knows this, and numbers of intoxicatednatives are always to be seen, so that it is somewhat surprising thatthe authorities pretend not to have sufficient proof to punish thesetraders. If ever one of them is fined, the amount is so minute thatthe sale of half a dozen bottles makes up for it, so that they go onas before. I myself witnessed two cases of death in consequence ofdrinking, alone and at one sitting, a bottle of pure absinthe. 

The house of Mr. D. Was typical of the dwellings built by thecolonists. In a circumference of about 50 mètres, the bush hadbeen cleared, on a level spot somewhat off the shore and slightlyelevated. Here stood a simple grass hut, 3 mètres wide and 6 long;the floor was covered with gravel, and the interior divided intoa store-room and a living-room. On the roof lay a few sheets ofcorrugated iron, the rain from which was collected in a tank to providewater. A few paces off was another hut, where the coprah was smokedand the boys slept, and on the beach was a shed for storing the coprah. 

The actual work a coprah trader has to do is very small, amountingto little besides waiting for the natives who bring the coprah orthe fresh nuts, to weigh them and sell his goods. Occasionally hemay visit a distant village by boat to buy coprah there; but there isplenty of unoccupied time, and it is not surprising that many of thesettlers take to drink from pure boredom. Not so Mr. D. , who triedto educate the neighbouring natives, but with small success. 

I did not see much of interest here, or learn anything new aboutthe natives, but I was able to obtain some interesting objects, andmy collection of skulls was nicely started, until some one told thenatives not to bring me any more skulls, as on the day of resurrectionthe former owners would not be able to find their heads. The sameperson created all sorts of difficulties when I attempted someexcavations, and at last insinuated that I was a German spy. It issad to see that the very people who, by virtue of their educationand position, ought to help one most, work against one, while veryoften poor and plain people make sacrifices to help one along. 

A young Ambrymese who had worked for me for some days, wanted toenlist in my service when I left, although he grew tearful at thethought of Malekula, where I intended to go next, and where he wasconvinced he would be killed. Lingban was a light-haired native, very nice-looking, and a favourite with the ladies; this fact hadbrought him into considerable trouble, and he was obliged to leavehis home. He stayed with me for three months, and was not killed, but suffered much from home-sickness. He finally settled at the southend of Pentecoste, whence he could see his beloved Ambrym, count thecocoa-nut trees on the shore and see the heavy clouds over the volcano. 

From Dip Point Mr. S. Took me over to Aunua on Malekula, the stationof the Rev. F. Paton, a son of the celebrated J. G. Paton, the founderof the Presbyterian missions in the New Hebrides. He lived there as awidower, devoting all his strength, time and thought to the spiritualand physical welfare of the natives. 

Malekula has the reputation of being one of the most dangerous islandsin the group. The natives in the north, the Big Nambas, are certainlynot very gentle, and the others, too, are high-spirited and will notsubmit to ill-treatment from the settlers. Malekula is the secondlargest island of the group, and its interior is quite unexplored. Icould not penetrate inland, as I was unable to find boys and guidesfor a voyage they all thought extremely dangerous. Mr. Paton, whohad traversed the island at various points, consoled me by tellingme that the culture inland was much the same as along the coast. SoI gave up my plan, though with some regret. 

Mr. Paton took me to the south end of Malekula, and left me on one ofthe flat coral islands, which are all connected under the surface byan extensive reef. The landscape is charming, the sea above the reefshining in all possible shades, and small flat islands enliveningthe view in all directions. In these islands only Christians live, the few remaining heathen having retired to the mainland. 

Here on the south coast the strange fashion obtains of deforming thehead. This habit is very rare in the Pacific, and restricted to twosmall districts. It is now purely a matter of fashion or vanity, --thelonger the head, the handsomer the individual is thought to be, --butprobably there was originally some religious or hygienic notion atthe bottom of the peculiar custom. The operation is begun about amonth after birth, by rubbing the child's head with grease and soot, and then putting on a small cap of braided pandanus fibre, which isvery tight and allows the head to develop only in the direction of thecrown. When the cap becomes too tight, it is cut off, and another, a little larger, put on, until the parents are satisfied with theshape of the child's head. These baby skulls have an extreme shapewhich is very ugly, and the whole process can hardly be agreeable tothe patient; but the operation does not seem to have any prejudicialeffect on the intellect, and in later years the shape of the headbecomes somewhat less marked, although a man from the south of Malekulais always unmistakable. 

This region is remarkable, too, for its highly developedancestor-worship. Although the general ideas on the subject arethe same here as elsewhere in the archipelago, there is a specialveneration here for the head or skull of deceased ancestors. Thebones are generally used in making arrow-heads and lance-points, and the head, which is useless, is thrown away in most islands, or buried again; but in the south of Malekula, the heads are kept, and the face is reproduced in a plastic material of fibres, clay andsticky juice. The work is very cleverly done, and the face looks quitenatural, with fine, slightly Semitic features. The surface is varnishedand painted with patterns corresponding to the caste of the dead. Oftenthe face has eyes made of bits of shell, the real hair is stuck on, and the plumes and nose-stick are not forgotten, so that the wholebecomes an exact portrait of the deceased. Whether this head is to havea body or not is a question of caste. The higher the caste of the dead, the more completely is his body modelled. The heads of low castes aresimply stuck on poles, higher ones have bodies of carved wood, oftenbranches to indicate arms; but the bodies of the highest castes arecomposed of bamboo, fibres and straw, and modelled throughout in thesame way as the head. They are covered with varnish, and every detailreproduced, including dress, ornaments and caste signs. In their righthands these statues carry a "bubu" or shell horn, and in their left, a pig's jaw. The shoulders are modelled in the shape of faces, and fromthese, occasionally, sticks protrude, bearing the heads of dead sons, so that such a statue often has three or four heads. These figuresstand along the walls of the gamal, smiling with expressionless faceson their descendants round the fires, and are given sacrifices of food. 

Side by side with this ancestor-worship there goes a simplerskull-cult, by which a man carries about the head of a beloved sonor wife, as a dear remembrance of the departed. Among a flourishingpopulation it would naturally be impossible to obtain such objects, but here, where the people are rapidly decreasing in number, a statueoften enough loses its descendants, whereupon others have no objectionto sell it. 

The taste for plastic art shows in other things as well. I foundseveral grotesque dancing-masks and sticks, made for some specialdance. The feeling for caricature expressed in these articles isextraordinary and amusing even, from a European point of view. Here, too, the Semitic type appears, and the natives seem to delight in thehooked noses, thick lips and small chins. I gathered a rich harvest ofthese curios near the little island of Hambi; unfortunately Mr. Patoncame to take me home before I had time to pack the objects carefully, and I had to leave them in charge of natives until the arrival of thesteamer; when I found them again, after six months, they had suffereda good deal. 

Towards evening, while rounding the south-east corner of Malekula, our motor broke down, and we had neither oars nor sail. Fortunatelythe tide was in our favour, and we improvised a sail from a blanket, sothat we drifted slowly along and reached the anchorage late at night. 

Mr. Paton then took me to Malo, where a Frenchman, Mr. I. , wasexpecting me. On the east coast there was but little to be done, as the natives had nearly all disappeared; but I was able to pickup some skulls near a number of abandoned villages. I found veryconsiderable architectural remains, --walls, mounds and altars, allof masonry; buildings of this importance are to be found nowhere elseexcept in Aoré and the Banks Islands, and it seems probable that thepopulations of these three districts are related. 

I had an interesting experience here. Mr. I. And his neighbour didnot enjoy the best of reputations as regarded their treatment ofnatives. One day Mr. I. Took me over to N. 's place. N. Was justreturning from a recruiting trip to Malekula. We saw him comeashore, staggering and moaning; on being questioned, he told usthat he had been attacked by the natives, and his crew eaten up. Hewas in a frightful state, completely broken, weeping like a child, and cursing the savages, to whom, he said, he had never done anywrong. His grief was so real that I began to pity the man, andthought he had probably been paying the penalty for the misdeedsof another recruiter. Mr. I. Was just as emphatic in cursing thebloodthirstiness of the natives, but while we were going home, hetold me that Mr. N. Had kidnapped thirty-four natives at that veryplace a year before, so that the behaviour of the others was quitecomprehensible. From that moment I gave up trying to form an opinionon any occurrence of the kind without having carefully examinedthe accounts of both parties. One can hardly imagine how facts aredistorted here, and what innocent airs people can put on who are reallycriminals. I have heard men deplore, in the most pathetic language, acts of cruelty to natives, who themselves had killed natives in coldblood for the sake of a few pounds. It requires long and intimateacquaintance with the people to see at all clearly in these matters, and for a Resident it is quite impossible not to be deceived unlesshe has been on the spot for a year at least. 

While waiting at Dip Point for an opportunity to cross to Pentecoste, I saw the volcano in full activity, and one day it rained ashes, so that the whole country was black as if strewn with soot, and theeruptions shook the house till the windows rattled. I made a secondascent of the mountain, but had such bad weather that I saw nothingat all. We came back, black as chimney-sweeps from the volcanicdust we had brushed off the bushes. I heard later that the extincteastern crater had unexpectedly broken out again, and that severallava streams were flowing towards the coast. 

Pentecoste, a long, narrow island running north and south, resemblesMaevo in shape. My host here was a missionary who seemed to connectChristianity with trousers and other details of civilization. It wassad to see how many quaint customs, harmless enough in themselves, were needlessly destroyed. The wearing of clothes constitutes apositive danger to health, as in this rainy climate the natives arealmost constantly soaked, do not trouble to change their wet clothes, sleep all night in the same things and invariably catch cold. Anothersource of infection is their habit of exchanging clothes, thusspreading all sorts of diseases. That morals are not improved bythe wearing of clothes is a fact; for they are rather better in theheathen communities than in the so-called Christian ones. It is to behoped that the time is not far off when people will realize how verylittle these externals have to do with Christianity and morality; butthere is reason to fear that it will then be too late to save the race. 

We undertook an excursion into the interior, to a district whoseinhabitants had only recently been pacified by Mr. F. , my host; thetribes we visited were very primitive, especially on the east coast, where there is little contact with whites. The people were stillcannibals, and I had no difficulty in obtaining some remnants of acannibal meal. 

We frequently tried to obtain information about the organization ofthe family among these natives, but, being dependent on biche la mar, we made small progress. My observations were supplemented later bythe Rev. Mr. Drummond, for which I am very much indebted to him;some of these observations may be of interest. 

The population is divided into two clans--the Bule and the Tabi. Theformer is supposed to have originated from the tridacna shell, thelatter from the taro. Every individual knows exactly to which clanhe belongs, although there are no external signs. There is a strictrule forbidding marriage within the clan, and an offence against thislaw was formerly punished by death; to this day, even in Christiandistricts, marriage within the clan is extremely rare. No one canchange his clan. Children do not belong to the clan of the father, but to that of the mother, and property cannot be alienated from theclan. The father has no rights over his children, and the head of thefamily is not the father, but the eldest brother of the mother, whoeducates the boys and helps them along in the Suque. Land belongs tothe clan, which is like a large family, and indeed seems a strongerorganization than the family itself; but the clans live togetherin the villages, and as such they form a whole with regard to theoutside world. Quarrels between two clans are not so rare as thoseinside a clan, and the vendetta does not act inside the clan, whereasa murder outside the clan must be avenged. Uncles and aunts withinthe clan are called father and mother, and the cousins are calledsister and brother. 

However, this exogamic system could not prevent inbreeding, as therewas always the possibility that uncles and nieces might marry, sothat a "horizontal" system was superimposed across this "vertical"one, forbidding all marriages between different generations. Thus, all marriages between near relations being impossible, the chances tomarry at all are considerably diminished, so that nowadays, with thedecreased population, a man very often cannot find a wife, even thoughsurrounded by any number of girls. I do not mean to imply by thisthat the whole clan-system was organized simply to prevent inbreeding. 

As I have said before, young men, as a rule, either cannot marry, being too poor to buy a wife, or, at best, can only afford to payfor an old widow, a low-priced article. The young, pretty girls aregenerally bought by old men, who often buy them when children, payinghalf the price down, and waiting till the girl is of marriageableage. As soon as she is old enough, she has to work for her futurehusband, and is under the care of one of his wives. Later on, thehusband pays the rest of the money, builds a house for the girl, and the marriage takes place without any ceremony beyond a dinner tothe nearest relatives of the couple. In most islands the girl cannotobject to a match otherwise than by running away from a disagreeablehusband. Generally, when she has run away several times, and repeatedbeatings have not changed her mind, her parents pay back the moneyand the husband gives up his wife. What is valued highest in a womanis her capacity for work; but the young men have a marked taste forbeauty, and there are girls that are courted by all the young fellowsof the village, and who, although married to an old man, accept theaddresses of a young one. The husband does not seem to mind much, provided the woman continues to work well for him. 

There is such a thing as love even here, and it has been known togrow so powerful as to lead, if unrequited, to suicide or to rapidpining away and to death. 

On the whole, the women are treated fairly well by their husbands, but for an occasional beating, which is often provoked by foolishbehaviour; and they are taken care of, as they represent a greatvalue. There are old ruffians, however, who take a perverse pleasure intorturing their wives, and these unhappy women are quite helpless, asthey are entirely in the power of their husbands. Otherwise, the fateof the women is not as bad as many people think, and the severest ruleshave never yet prevented Eve from finding and taking her pleasure. 

During babyhood the children stay with their mothers; but from theage of four on the boys spend most of their time in the gamal, whilethe girls remain under their mother's care. Clothes are not worn bythe boys till they have joined the Suque, which, in some cases, takesplace long after puberty. The girls seem to begin to wear somethingwhenever the mother thinks fit, generally between the ages of four andseven. From that moment every connection between brother and sisterceases; they may not speak to each other, not meet on the road, insome regions not even see each other, and to mention the sister'sname before the brother is, if not an actual insult, certainly verytactless. Similar rules regulate the relations between parents-and children-in-law. 

The parents are very lenient to their children, and pass over everyimpertinence; they get small thanks for their kindness, and the boys, especially, often treat their mothers very badly. The natives' fondnessfor children makes them very good nurses, and it is a source of thegreatest pride to a native boy to take care of a white child. 

The father's death is of little importance to the children, and notmuch to their mother, who, as a rule, goes over to her husband's oldestbrother. If the mother dies, the children are adopted by a maternalaunt or some other woman of the clan. One reason why all this is ofno great importance is the far-reaching communism which is a featureof native life, every one sleeping and eating wherever he pleases. 

Mr. F. Took me up north, where I wished to study the population. I mustnot omit to mention that the population of Pentecoste is divided intotwo distinct types: the people in the south are like those of Ambrym, those in the north resemble the inhabitants of Aoba. This is evidentnot only in the dress, but also quite distinctly in the exterior ofthe people. Yet in spite of the close relations with Ambrym, the artof sculpture, so highly developed in the other island, is entirelylacking in the south of Pentecoste. 

In the north we find a dress similar to that of Aoba: the men donot wear the nambas, while the women have a small mat around thewaist. The art of braiding is brought to great perfection here, andthe mats from Pentecoste are surpassed only by those from Maevo. Thematerial is pandanus, whose leaves are split into narrow strips, bleached and then braided. Some of the mats are dyed with the root ofa plant, by boiling in a dyeing vat of bark. Besides the small mats, chiefly used for the women's dress, there are larger ones which serveas money and represent a great amount. They are as much as 1 mètrewide and 4 long, and are always dyed. The manufacture of these mats isvery laborious, and only high-caste men with many wives can afford tohave them made. The patterns for dyeing are cut out of banana-sheath, which is then tied tightly on the mat, and the whole rolled round athick stick. The dyeing takes almost an entire day. These mats areused, for example, to buy the valuable tusked pigs. 

The only form of wood-carving in this region are clubs, and those madehere are the most elegant of the whole group, and so much in demand inall the islands that they are quite largely exported. At present theyare mostly used as ceremonial clubs at dances. All those of modernmake are inferior to the old ones in regard to hardness, elegance ofshape, polish and strength. Here, in Pentecoste, I found the firstbasket-plates I had ever seen. They are frequent farther north, inthe Banks Islands, but do not exist in the south. These plates hadno centre, and had to be lined with leaves to make them serviceable, being mere rings. They are used to carry cooked food about. In theBanks Islands the natives have learned to braid the centre too. 

Up in these northern mountains I spent a most unpleasant week in wet, cold weather, in a wretched house; but I had the satisfaction offinding two boys to take the place of Lingban, who had, by this time, become semi-idiotic with home-sickness. 

I returned to the coast and waited for an opportunity to cross to Aoba, but the weather was so bad that even Mr. G. , an old sea-dog, would notrisk the voyage; so we tried to get to Ambrym instead, where I couldmeet the steamer for Aoba. We waited for a calm day, and started outin the tiny whale-boat. Soon we were caught by one after another ofthe ill-famed Pentecoste squalls, and though my skipper was knownas one of the best sailors in the islands, one squall struck us sosuddenly that the boat heeled over, and only a very quick turn ofthe wheel saved us from capsizing. The escape was such a narrow onethat even Mr. G. Turned pale, and decided to go back, especially asthe boys sat on deck, quite useless, green with fear and incapableof helping us in any way. 

It took us a long time to beat back, and we were all glad to feelsolid ground under our feet once more. After a few days we startedagain, but luck was against me on this occasion, and inside of twelvehours I missed the steamer no less than three times, which, in theNew Hebrides, implies a delay of four weeks. 

So, in a heavy whale-boat, I rowed along the coast toward Olal withsome natives. A dull rain drenched us, followed by glaring sunshinethat stewed us in heavy dampness. Like the ruins of a giant wall, blacklava blocks lay here and there along the coast. The surf foamed whitein the crevasses, and the forest rose, sallow and greenish-yellow, above the high bank. Here and there naked natives squatted on therocks, motionless, or looking lazily for crabs; among the huge bouldersthey looked tiny, and their colouring scarcely distinguished themfrom their surroundings; so that they seemed rather like animals, orthe shyest of cave-dwellers. Floating slowly on the grey sea, in thesad broken light, I thought I had never seen a more inhospitable coast. 

Owing to the heavy swell, we had difficulty in passing through thenarrow channel inside the reef. The great rollers pounded againstthe coral banks, and poured back in a thousand white streamlets, like a wonderful cascade, to be swallowed by the next wave. 

I found my friend, Mr. D. , in a sad state with fever, cold andloneliness; wrapped up in woollen caps, blankets and heavy clothes, helooked more like an Arctic explorer than a dweller near the Equator. Hespoke of leaving the islands, and, indeed, did so some months later. 

On my way to Aoba I had to spend a few days off Pentecoste, in suchrainy weather that I went ashore but once in all that time. The day wasfine, and I shall never forget the beauty of that woodland scene. Alovely creek winds through reeds, reflecting the bright sand and thebushes on its banks. Dark iron-woods rise in stiff, broken lines, and their greyish needles quiver like a light plume against the bluesky, where white clouds float serenely. Inland the forest swells ina green wall, and farther off it lies in rounded cupolas and domesof soft green, fading into a light around the distant hills. Underoverhanging branches I lie, sheltered from the sun; at my feet theripples caress the bank; delicate lianas hang from the branchesand trail lazily in the water. Swallows dart across the stream, and sometimes the low call of a wood-dove sounds from far away. Acricket shrieks, and stops suddenly, as if shocked at the discordantsound of its own voice. Far off in the hills I can hear the rushingof the wind, like a deep chord that unites in a sacred symphony withthe golden sun and the glittering water to voice the infinite joy ofliving that penetrates all creation to-day. 

Down-stream I can see the heavy coast banks, with a narrow strip ofbrilliant blue sea shining above them, and now and then a glint ofsnowy foam. Two pandanuses frame the view, their long leaves wavingsoftly in the breeze that comes floating down the valley. Half asleep, I know the delights of the lotus-eaters' blessed isle. 

CHAPTER XIII

AOBA

Next day I landed in Aoba, at "Albert's. " He was an American negro, who, after having been a stoker and sailor, had settled here as acoprah trader. His language was of the strangest, a mixture of biche lamar, negro French and English, and was very hard to understand. Withthe help of two native women he kept his house in good order, andhe was decidedly one of the most decent colonists of the group, and tried to behave like a gentleman, which is more than can be saidof some whites. He seemed to confirm the theory that the African issuperior to the Melanesian. Albert sheltered me to the best of hisability, although I had to sleep in the open, under a straw roof, and his bill of fare included items which neither my teeth nor mystomach could manage, such as an octopus. There were several othernegroes in Aoba; one was Marmaduke, an enormous Senegalese, who hadgrown somewhat simple, and lived like the natives, joining the Suqueand dancing at their festivals. He occasionally came to dinner atAlbert's; this was always amusing, as Albert thought himself farsuperior to Marmaduke, and corrected his mistakes with still morecomical impossibilities. Both were most polite and perfectly sober. Thetalk, as a rule, turned on stories of ghosts, in which both of themfirmly believed, and by which both were much troubled. Marmaduke wasstrangled every few nights by old women, while a goblin had sat onAlbert's chest every night until he had cleared the bush round hishouse and emptied his Winchester three times into the darkness. Thishad driven the ghosts away, --a pretty case of auto-suggestion. Iwas interested in hearing these stories, though I should hardly havethought a sensible man like Albert could have believed such things. 

The people of Aoba are quite different from those of the otherislands, --light-coloured, often straight-haired, with Mongolianfeatures; they are quite good-looking, intelligent, and their habitsshow many Polynesian traits. The Suque is not all-important here:it scarcely has the character of a secret society, and the separationof the sexes is not insisted on. Men and women live together, and thefires do not appear to be separated. As a result, there is real familylife, owing in part to the fact that meals are eaten in common. Thegamal is replaced by a cooking-house, which is open to the women;generally it is nothing but a great gabled roof, reaching to theground on one side and open on the others. Here the families liveduring the day, and the young men and guests sleep at night, whilethe married couples sleep in their huts, which are grouped aroundthe cooking-house. 

The position of the women, so much better here than elsewhere, isnot without effect on their behaviour. They are independent andself-possessed, and do not run away from a stranger nor hide indark corners when a white man wants to speak to them. Because oftheir intelligence they are liked on plantations as house-servants, and so many of them have gone away for this purpose that Aoba hasbeen considerably depopulated in consequence; few of these women everreturn, and those who do are usually sick. Some Aoba women have madevery good wives for white men. 

The people of Aoba are remarkable for their cleanliness, the dwellerson the coast spending half the day in the water, while those from themountains never miss their weekly bath, after which they generallycarry a few cocoa-nuts full of salt water up to their homes. Thewomen are very pretty, slim and strong; their faces often have quite arefined outline, a pointed chin, a small mouth and full but well-cutlips; their eyes are beautiful, with a soft and sensual expression;and the rhythm of their movements, their light and supple walk, give them a charm hardly ever to be found in Europe. The men, too, are good to look at. Considering the intelligence and thriftiness ofthe race, it is doubly regrettable that alcoholism, recruiting andconsumption have had such evil effects of recent years. 

I roamed about in the neighbourhood of Nabutriki and attended severalfestivals; they are much the same as elsewhere, except that thepigs are not killed by braining, but by trampling on their stomachs, which apparently causes rupture of the heart and speedy death. 

As I mentioned elsewhere, a man's rise in caste is marked on everyoccasion by the receipt of new fire, rubbed on a special stickornamented with flowers. Fire is lighted here, as in all Melanesia, by "ploughing, " a small stick being rubbed lengthwise in a largerone. If the wood is not damp, it will burn in less than two minutes:it is not necessary, as is often stated, to use two different kindsof wood. To-day matches are used nearly everywhere, and the nativeshardly ever "plough" their fire, except for ceremonial purposes;but they are still very clever about keeping the fire burning, andoften take along a smouldering log on their walks. 

Wood-carving and sculpture are wanting, except in the shape of drums, which are placed in a horizontal position, and often reach considerabledimensions. 

Not far from Albert's lived a man of the highest caste, my friendAgelan. He was planning to kill one hundred tusked pigs in the nearfuture, which would raise him to the highest caste far and wide, but would also impoverish him for the rest of his life. He livedquietly and comfortably, like a country squire, surrounded by hisrelatives and descendants. He seemed fond of good living, and his wifewas an excellent housekeeper. In the midst of a somewhat colourlessChristian population, wearing trousers and slovenly dresses, usingenamel pots and petrol-lamps, Agelan and his household were a genuinerelic of the good old times, and no one could have pretended thathis home was less pleasant than those around him. These things arelargely a matter of taste; and those who prefer grotesque attire tobeautiful nakedness will be happy to know that their wishes will soonbe fulfilled. I liked the old heathen, and spent a good deal of timewith him. A sketch of his home life may not come amiss, just becausethese primitive ways are dying out so fast. 

As I near the house, some dogs rush out at me, and a woman's voicecalls them back; Agelan roars a welcome--he always shouts, and likes toput on masterful airs; for in years gone by he was a very unpleasantcustomer, until the man-of-war--but that is all ancient history, andnow his bark is much worse than his bite. I have the honour of beingin his good books, thanks to certain medical services I was able torender him; he has an ugly cough, for which we have tried in turn:iodine, Peruvian balsam, eucalyptus oil, quinine, and other medicines;nothing helps, but he seems to enjoy swallowing the drugs. 

The floor of the house is hard clay; there are two fireplaces at oneend, and at the other some large drums serve as seats. Everywherein the roofing hang bows, arrows, bones, plummets, ropes, andclubs. Agelan has been toasting himself at a little fire of hisown; now he rises, coughing, and shakes hands. He is a very tall, strongly-made man of about sixty, with a high forehead, long, hooked nose, wide mouth, thin lips and white beard. His dress is theold-fashioned loin-mat, and around his wrists he wears heavy strandsof shell money. His wife, too, is very tall and strong, with quiet, dignified movements; she may be forty years old. Everything abouther is calm and determined; while not handsome, she has such a kindexpression as to look very pleasant. She wears a small loin-cloth, andher light coffee-coloured skin is scrupulously clean. Around her neckand over her left shoulder she wears a string of shells, and aroundher ankles, small red beads. Near her squats her little daughter, a pretty child of six; an adopted daughter plays near the fire witha small, thick-bellied orphan boy, who is always crying. The girls, too, wear little ornaments; and their dainty movements, curly heads, round faces and great dark eyes are very attractive. 

The midday meal is steaming under a heap of leaves and dust, and a manis busily scraping cocoa-nuts for the delicious cocoa-nut milk. Agelansends one of the girls for an unripe nut, which is opened in threedeft cuts, and I am offered the refreshing drink as a welcome. NowAgelan, who has been brooding for days over these matters, questionsme as to my origin and plans, and he roars himself nearly hoarse, for we cannot understand each other. The other man, a fugitive fromthe east coast, is asked to interpret, but he is sulky and awkward;not that he is a bad sort, but he is sick, and spends most of his timeasleep in a shed he has built for himself in a corner of the house, and only appears at meals. 

The youngest son comes in, the last left to Agelan, for the olderones have all joined the mission, --it is the fashion. This boy is aquiet, cheerful lad of twelve, already a high caste, for his fatherhas killed many pigs for him. He has shot a miserable pigeon, andhis mother and the girls laugh at the poor booty, much to his chagrin. 

Agelan now takes me to "view" a particularly fine tusked pig, tiedunder a roof, on a clean couch of straw; the boy shows it bits ofcocoa-nut to make it open its mouth, so that I can see and admire itstusks. Agelan would like nothing better than to show off all his pigs, and if I were a native I would pass them in review as we Europeansvisit picture-galleries; but I refuse as politely as I can. Wereturn to the cook-house, where the cocoa-nut rasping is finished;the man washes his hands in the water of a nut, splitting it open andsqueezing the water in a little spray on to his hands. Mrs. Agelanknows a simpler way; she fills her mouth with water and squirts it onher hands. The cocoa-nut gratings are kneaded with a little water, while the girls sweep the earth off the cooking-place and uncoverthe stones; an appetizing smell spreads, and the master of the housewatches the preparations with a sharp eye and a silent tongue. Onefeels that the least carelessness will provoke an outburst, and, indeed, a solemn silence has fallen on the company, only the wifesmiles quietly. 

"Lap-lap banana good!" Agelan roars in my ear, and I nod assent. Nowthe hot stones are removed with bamboo tongs, and the great flatobject, wrapped in banana leaves, is taken out. Mrs. Agelan throws backthe leaves and uncovers the beautifully cooked golden lap-lap. Herlord looks at it critically, and returns to his corner silent, butevidently satisfied. His wife cannot quite hide a smile of pride. 

The stranger now squeezes the cocoa-nut gratings over a wooden bowl, and a creamy juice runs through his fingers. The bowl is brought toAgelan, who looks at it as if reading an oracle; then he selects ahot stone from his own fire, and sends the bowl back to be embeddedin the gratings. He approaches with his stone in a wooden fork, and squats down near the bowl lost in thought, as if anxious not tomiss the right moment; then he drops the stone into the milk, whichhisses, bubbles and steams. A fine smell of burnt fat is noticeable;and while the liquid thickens, Agelan behaves as if he could performmiracles and was in league with supernatural powers. After a whilehis wife hands him the bowl, and he holds it over the pudding, undecided how and where to pour the milk; one would think the fateand welfare of creation depended on his action. Being a man of energy, he makes up his mind, and pours one stream right across the pudding, then empties his bowl and retires with a sigh to his seat. About tenmore bowlfuls are needed, but these are poured by Mrs. Agelan withoutfurther ceremony. The solemn hush is over. With a long bush-knife, Mama cuts the pudding into strips and squares and distributes it, and the meal proceeds amid general satisfaction. I am given a largeslab; fortunately it tastes very good and is easily digestible, for politeness ordains that one must eat enormous quantities. Atone stage of the proceedings the girls are sent to take some food tothe neighbours as a present. When everyone has finished, Agelan liesdown for a siesta, while his wife lights a pipe and squats in silenthappiness near the fire. The girls play with the dirty little boy, and the son plucks his tiny pigeon and a flying-fox; singeing thecreature's fur off occasions such an evil smell that I prefer to takemy leave. Mrs. Agelan smiles her farewell, the girls giggle, and whenI have gone some distance I hear Agelan, awakened from his siesta, roar a sleepy good-bye after me. 

CHAPTER XIV

LOLOWAY--MALO--THE BANKS ISLANDS

Having traversed the western part of the island, I sailed toLoloway, near the eastern point, one of the loveliest spots in thearchipelago. Lofty cliffs flank two sides of a round bay; at theentrance a barrier-reef breaks the swell, which glides in a softundulation over the quiet water, splashing up on the sandy beach. Allaround is the forest, hanging in shadowy bowers over the water, and hardly a breeze is astir. The white whale-boat of the Anglicanmissionary floats motionless on the green mirror; sometimes a fishleaps up, or a pigeon calls from the woods. In the curve of thebay the shore rises in two terraces; on the lower lies the Anglicanmissionary's house, just opposite the entrance. In the evening the sunsets between the cliffs, and pours a stream of the purest gold throughthe narrow gap. It is a pity this fairy spot is so rarely inhabited;Melanesian missionaries are not often at home, being constantly onthe road, or at work in the native villages. Mr. G. , too, was on thepoint of departure, and agreed to take me with him on his trip. 

In his alarmingly leaky boat we sailed westward, two boys baling allthe time. We ran into a small anchorage, pulled the boat ashore, andmarched off inland. The people I found here were similar to those inthe west, except that they had developed certain arts to a greaterdegree of perfection, particularly mat-braiding and tattooing. Thebraiding is done by a method very similar to that in vogue onPentecoste. The tattooing is mostly done by women and on women;but the men, especially the high castes, often have a beautifullydesigned sicca leaf running from the chest towards one shoulder, which probably has some religious significance. The women often havetheir whole body, arms and legs, covered with tattooing, as if withfine lace. The operation is done bit by bit, some one part beingtreated every few days. The colour used is the rosin of a nut-treeprecipitated on a cool stone and mixed with the juice of a plant;the pattern is drawn on the skin with a stick, and then traced withthe tattooing-needle. This consists of three orange thorns, tiedat right angles to a stick. The needles are guided along the designwith the left hand, while the right keeps striking the handle softlywith a light stick, to drive the needles into the skin. This is keptup until a distinct outline is produced; the operation is not verypainful. The skin is then washed and rubbed with a certain juice, which evidently acts as a disinfectant; at least I never saw anyinflammation consequent on tattooing. During the next few days someof the dye works out and falls off with the dry crust that forms onthe wound, leaving the tattooing a little paler. The patterns arerather complicated, and at the present day there are no recognizablerepresentations of real objects; yet there seems no doubt that at onetime all the designs represented some real thing. They are carefullyadapted to the body, and accentuate its structure. The women who dothe tattooing are well paid, so that only the wealthy can afford tohave their wives and daughters tattooed all over; and naturally atattooed woman brings a higher price in the matrimonial market than a"plain" one. 

In this same place I had occasion to observe an interesting zoologicalphenomenon, the appearance of the palolo-worm, which occurs almost allover the Pacific once a year, at a certain date after the October fullmoon. The natives know the date exactly, which proves the accuracyof their chronology. The palolo is a favourite delicacy, and theynever fail to fish for it. We went down to the shore on the firstnight; there were not many worms as yet, but the next evening thewater was full of the greenish and brownish threads, wriggling abouthelplessly. Each village had its traditional fishing-ground, and wecould see the different fires all along the coast. The worms weregathered by hand and thrown into baskets, and after midnight we wenthome with a rich harvest. The palolo is mixed with pudding, and saidto taste like fish; I am not in a position to pronounce an opinion. 

I returned to Nabutriki, and thence to Malo, where Mr. W. Informed methat the Burns-Philp steamer had already passed, and asked me to staywith him and his kind family until I should find an opportunity tocross. I accepted all the more gladly, as this part of Malo was stillquite unknown to me. The population I found here is probably identicalwith that which formerly inhabited the south shore of Santo. Thiswas interesting to me because of certain scientific details, thoughon the whole the life was much the same as elsewhere in Melanesia, with the Suque, etc. I collected a number of charms and amulets, which the people sold willingly, as they no longer believed in theirpower. Formerly, they were supposed to be useful for poisoning, as love-charms, or for help in collecting many tusked pigs. 

I also visited the neighbouring islands, and heard the gruesome storyof how the last village on Aoré disappeared. The Aoré people were forever at war with those of South Santo, across the Segond Channel. Themen of Aoré were about sixty strong, and one day they attacked aSanto village. Everyone fled except one man, who was helpless fromdisease. He was killed and eaten up, and in consequence of this mealthirty out of the sixty men from Aoré died. The others dispersed amongthe villages of Malo. In Aoré, I had the rare sensation of witnessingan earthquake below the surface. I was exploring a deep cave in thecoral banks when I heard the well-known rumbling, felt the shock, andheard some great stalactites fall from the ceiling. This accumulationof effects seemed then to me a little theatrical and exaggerated. 

The next steamer took me to the Banks Islands, and I went ashore atPort Patterson on Venua Lava. Here were the headquarters of a rubberplanting company; but the rubber trees had not grown well, and thecompany had started cocoa-nuts. I had met Mr. Ch. , the director, before, and he took me in. The company owned a motor-launch, which cruised all through the Banks Islands, visiting the differentplantations; this gave me a good opportunity to see nearly all theislands. The sea is much more dangerous here than in the New Hebrides, being open everywhere; and the strong currents cause heavy tide ripsat the points of the jagged coasts. 

An excursion to Gaua was a failure, owing to bad weather. Afterhaving shivered in a wet hut for four days, we returned to PortPatterson only just in time; for in the evening the barometer fell, a bad sign at that season, and the wind set in afresh. The launch wasanchored in a sheltered corner of the bay, near an old yacht and aschooner belonging to Mr. W. , a planter on a neighbouring islet. Allthe signs pointed to a coming cyclone, and suddenly it shot from themountains, furrowed the sea, and ruled supreme for two days. Fromthe director's house I watched the whirling squalls gliding overthe water, lifting great lumps of spray, that shot like snow overthe surface and disappeared in the misty distance. Rain rattled inshowers on the roof; everywhere was a hissing, rushing, thundering;the surf broke in violent, irregular shocks like the trampling of anexcited horse; the wind roared in the forest till the strongest treestrembled and the palms bent over with inverted crowns. In a momentthe creeks swelled to torrents, and in every gully there ran rivers, which collected to a deep lake in the plain. In the house the rainpenetrated everywhere, leaked through the roof, dripped on the beds, and made puddles on the floor. 

Meanwhile the captain and engineer of the launch had passed anunpleasant time; they had stayed aboard till the rolling of the boatdrove them to the larger yacht; but seeing the schooner break hertwo chains and drift on to the reef, they became frightened and wentashore in the dinghey, and home along the beach. Later they arrivedat the station and reported "all well, " and were amazed when I toldthem that the launch had stranded. I had just been looking from theveranda through the glass at the boats, when a huge wave picked upthe launch and threw her on the beach. There she had rolled about alittle, and then dug herself into the sand, while the tide fell andthe wind changed. Next day the cyclone had passed, but the swellwas still very heavy. Equipped with everything necessary to floatthe launch, we marched along the beach, which was beaten hard by thewaves. We had to cross a swollen river on an improvised raft; to oursatisfaction we found the boat quite unhurt, not even the cargo beingdamaged; only a few copper plates were torn. Next day Mr. W. Arrived, lamenting his loss; for his beautiful schooner was pierced in themiddle by a sharp rock, and she hung, shaken by the waves thatbroke over her decks and gurgled in the hold. The rigging was torn, the cabin washed away, and the shore strewn with her doors, planks, beams and trade goods. It was a pitiful sight to see the handsomeship bending over like a fallen warrior, while the company's oldyacht had weathered the cyclone quite safely. 

During the work of refloating the boat, Mr. Ch. Was taken very illwith fever, and I nursed him for some days; he was somewhat better byChristmas Eve, and we had the satisfaction of bringing the saved launchback to the station. He was visibly relieved, and his good humour wasagreeably felt by his boys as well as by his employés, to whom he senta goodly quantity of liquor to celebrate the occasion. We sat down toa festive dinner and tried to realize that this was Christmas; but itwas so different from Christmas at home, that it was rather hard. Atour feet lay the wide bay, turquoise blue, edged with white surf;in the distance rose the wonderful silhouette of Mota Lava Island;white clouds travelled across the sky, and a gentle breeze rustledin the palms of the forest. The peaceful picture showed no trace ofthe fury with which the elements had fought so few days ago. 

Tired with his exertions, Mr. Ch. Withdrew early, and I soon followed;but we were both aroused by the barking of the dogs, followed by thepad of bare feet on the veranda, whispering and coughing, and then bya song from rough and untrained throats. The singers were natives ofa Christian village some miles away, who came to sing Christmas hymnsin a strange, rough language, discordant and yet impressive. Whenthey had finished the director went out to them; he was a man whom onewould not have believed capable of any feeling, but he had tears in hiseyes; words failed him, and he thanked the singers by gestures. We allwent down to the store, where they sang to the employés, and receivedpresents; after which they spent the rest of the night with the hands, singing, eating and chatting. On Christmas Day the natives roasteda fat pig, the employés spent the day over their bottles, and I wasnurse once more, my patient being delirious and suffering very much. 

Before New Year's Day the launch was sent to all the differentstations to fetch the employés, an interesting crowd of more or lessruined individuals. There was a former gendarme from New Caledonia, acavalry captain, an officer who had been in the Boer war, an ex-priest, a clerk, a banker and a cowboy, all very pleasant people as long asthey were sober; but the arrival of each was celebrated with severalbottles, which the director handed out without any demur, although theamount was prodigious. Quarrels ensued; but by New Year's Eve peace wasrestored, and we all decorated the director's house with wreaths forthe banquet of the evening. The feast began well, but towards midnighta general fight was going on, which came to an end by the combatantsfalling asleep one by one. Thus the new year was begun miserably, and the next few days were just as bad. The natives looked on at thefights with round-eyed astonishment; and the director was in despair, for a second cyclone was threatening, and there was hardly anyone ina fit condition to help him secure the launch. 

All one morning it rained, and at noon the cyclone broke, coming fromthe south-west, as it had done the first time, but with threefoldviolence. We sat on the veranda, ready to jump off at any moment, in case the house should be blown away. The view was wiped out bythe mist; dull crashes resounded in the forest, branches cracked andflew whirling through the air, all isolated trees were broken offshort, and the lianas tangled and torn. The blasts grew ever moreviolent and frequent, and if the house had not been protected by themountain, it could never have resisted them. As it was, it shook andcreaked, and a little iron shed went rolling along the ground likea die. Down in the plain the storm tore the leaves off the palms, and uprooted trees and blew down houses. The cyclone reached itsclimax at sunset, then the barometer rose steadily, and suddenlyboth wind and rain ceased. The stillness lasted for about half anhour and then the storm set in again, this time from the north, striking the house with all its strength; fortunately it was not soviolent as at first. With the rising barometer the storm decreased andchanged its direction to the east. All next day it rained and blew;but on the third morning the storm died out in a faint breeze fromthe south-east, and when we came to reckon up our damages, we foundthat it might have been worse. Meanwhile the employés had had timeto recover from their orgy. A brilliant day dried the damp house, and soon everything resumed a normal aspect except the forest, whichlooked brown and ragged, like autumn woods at home. 

I made use of the first calm day to visit the lonely little islet ofMeralava. As it has no anchorage, no one can land there except inquiet weather, and so it had come about that the company's employéhad had no communication with the outside world for four months. Theisland is an extinct volcano, a regular cone, with the crater as a deepcavity in the top. There is hardly a level square mètre on the wholeisland, and the shores rise steeply out of the sea; only a few hugelava blocks form a base, on which the swell breaks and foams. Whenwe reached the island, this swell was so heavy as to render landingalmost impossible. All we could do was to take the employé aboard andreturn home. I was very sorry to have to give up my visit to Meralava, as the natives, though all christianized, have preserved more oftheir old ways than those of other islands, owing to their infrequentintercourse with civilization. For the same reason, the population isquite large; but every time a ship has landed an epidemic goes throughthe island, the germs of which appear to be brought by the vessels, and the natives evidently have very small powers of resistance. Wemay here observe on a small scale what has taken place all over thearchipelago in the degeneration and decimation of the aborigines. 

The people of Meralava live on taro, which they grow in terracedfields, the water being obtained from holes in the rocks, and oncocoa-nuts, of which the island yields a fair supply. 

The following day we started for Ureparapara, also a volcanic island, with an enormous crater, one side of which has fallen in; because, as the natives say, a great fish knocked against it. The sea haspenetrated into the interior of the crater, forming a lovely bay, sothat ships now lie at anchor where formerly the lava boiled and roared. 

In consequence of the frequent intercourse with whites, the populationis scanty. There is hardly a level patch, except the small strip atthe base of the slope and the great reef outside. Here, too, we haddifficulty in landing, but in the evening we found an ideal anchorageinside the bay. The water was scarcely ruffled, and little waveletssplashed on the shore, where mangrove thickets spread their brightfoliage. Huge trees bent over the water, protecting the straw roofsof a little village. In the deep shade some natives were squattinground fires, and close by some large outrigger-canoes lay on thebeach. On three sides the steep wooded slopes of the former crater'swalls rise up to a sharply dented ridge, and it all looks like aquiet Alpine lake, so that one involuntarily listens for the soundof cow-bells. Instead, there is the call of pigeons, and the dullthunder of the breakers outside. 

We took a holiday in this charming bay; and though the joys ofpicnicking were not new to us, the roasting of some pigeons gave us afestive sensation and a hearty appetite. The night under the bright, starlit sky, on board the softly rocking launch, wrapped me in afeeling of safety and coziness I had not enjoyed for a long time. 

Along the steepest path imaginable I climbed next morning to themountain's edge. The path often led along smooth rocks, where lianasserved as ropes and roots as a foothold; and I was greatly surprisedto find many fields on top, to which the women have to climb everyday and carry the food down afterwards, which implies acrobatic featsof no mean order. 

Ureparapara was the northernmost point I had reached so far, andthe neighbourhood of the art-loving Solomon Islands already madeitself felt. Whereas in the New Hebrides every form of art, exceptmat-braiding, is at once primitive and decadent, here any numberof pretty things are made, such as daintily designed ear-sticks, bracelets, necklaces, etc. ; I also found a new type of drum, a regularskin-drum, with the skin stretched across one end, while the otheris stuck into the ground. The skin is made of banana leaves. Theseand other points mark the difference between this people and that ofthe New Hebrides. As elsewhere all over the Banks group, the peoplehave long faces, high foreheads, narrow, often hooked, noses, anda light skin. Accordingly, it would seem that they are on a highermental plane than those of the New Hebrides, and cannibalism is saidnever to have existed here. 

My collections were not greatly enriched, as a British man-of-war hadanchored here for a few days a short time before; and anyone who knowsthe blue-jackets' rage for collecting will understand that they arequite capable of stripping a small island of its treasures. A greatdeal of scientifically valuable material is lost in this way, thoughfortunately these collectors go in for size chiefly, leaving smallobjects behind, so that I was able to procure several valuable pieces. 

After our return to Port Patterson the launch took me to a plantationfrom which I ascended the volcano of Venua Lava. Its activity showsprincipally in sulphur springs, and there are large sulphur deposits, which were worked fifteen years ago by a French company. A large amountof capital had been collected for the purpose, and for a few weeksor months the sulphur was carried down to the shore by natives andexported. Then it was found that the deposits were not inexhaustible, that the employés were not over-conscientious, that the consumptionof alcohol was enormous, and finally the whole affair was given up, after large quantities of machinery had been brought out, which I sawrusting away near the shore. In this way numerous enterprises havebeen started and abandoned of late years, especially in Nouméa. Itis probably due to this mining scheme that the natives here havepractically disappeared; I found one man who had once carried sulphurfrom the mine, and he was willing to guide me up the volcano. 

There are always clouds hanging round the top of the mountain, and theforest is swampy; but on the old road we advanced quite rapidly, andsoon found ourselves on the edge of a plateau, from which two streamsfell down in grand cascades, close together, their silver ribbonsgleaming brightly in the dark woods. One river was milk-white withsulphur precipitate, the other had red water, probably owing to irondeposits. The water was warm, and grew still warmer the farther up wefollowed the river. Suddenly we came upon a bare slope, over certainspots of which steam-clouds hung, while penetrating fumes irritatedone's eyes and nose. We had come to the lower margin of the sulphursprings, and the path led directly across the sulphur rocks. Mountinghigher, we heard the hissing of steam more distinctly, and soon wewere in the midst of numerous hillocks with bright yellow tops, andsteam hissing and whistling as it shot out of cracks, to condense inthe air into a white cloud. The whole ground seemed furrowed withchannels and crevasses, beneath which one heard mysterious noises;one's step sounded hollow, and at our side ran a dark stream, whichcarried the hot sulphur water to the shore. Great boulders lay about, some of them so balanced that a slight touch sent them rolling into thedepths, where they broke into atoms. Sometimes we were surrounded by athick cloud, until a breeze carried it away, and we had a clear viewover the hot, dark desert, up to the mountain-top. It was uncanny inthe midst of those viciously hissing hillocks, and I could not blame myboys for turning green with fear and wishing to go home. But we went onto a place where water boiled in black pools, sometimes quietly, thenwith a sudden high jump; some of the water was black, some yellowish, and everything around was covered with sulphur as if with hoar-frost. 

We followed the course of a creek whose water was so hot as to scaldour feet, and the heat became most oppressive. We were glad to reachthe crater, though it was a gloomy and colourless desert, in themidst of which a large grey pool boiled and bubbled. In front was adeep crevice in the crater wall, and a cloud of steam hid whateverwas in it; yet we felt as though something frightful must be goingon there. Above this gloomy scene stretched a sky of serenest blue, and we had a glimpse of the coast, with its little islands bathingin the sapphire sea. 

Next day we left for Gaua. Unhappily the captain met friends, andcelebrated with them to such an extent that he was no longer to berelied on, which was all the more unpleasant as the weather was ofthe dirtiest, and the barometer presaged another cyclone. After twodays it cleared up a little; I went ashore at the west point of Gaua, where the launch was to pick me up again two days later, as I meant tovisit the interior while the others went to buy coprah. Even now thewind and the swell from the north-west were increasing suspiciously, and after I had spent a rainy night in a village off the shore, Isaw the launch race eastward along the coast, evidently trying tomake a safe anchorage, with the storm blowing violent squalls andthe sea very high. 

On my way inland I still found the paths obstructed by fallen treesfrom the last cyclone, while nearly all the cocoa-nut palms had losttheir nuts. And again the storm raged in the forest, and the rainfell in torrents. 

I was anxious to buy statues of tree-fern wood; they are frequentlyto be seen here, standing along a terrace or wall near the gamal, andseem not so much images of ancestors, as signs of rank and wealth. Thecaste may be recognized by the number of pigs' jaws carved on thestatues. Often the artist first makes a drawing of the statue inred, white and black paint on a board; and these same designs areused as patterns for tattooing, as well as on ear-sticks and otherobjects. Female statues are common, which is an unusual thing. 

I obtained a good number of skulls, which were thrown into the rootsof a fig tree, where I was allowed to pick them up as I pleased. 

The Suque is supposed to have originated here; and here certainly ithas produced its greatest monuments, large altar-like walls, dams andramparts. The gamals, too, are always on a foundation of masonry, and on either side there are high pedestals on which the pigs aresacrificed. Among the stones used for building we often find greatboulders hollowed out to the shape of a bowl. No one knows anythingabout these stones or their purpose; possibly they are relics of anearlier population that has entirely disappeared. 

When I returned from my excursion I looked down on a wild foam-fleckedsea, over which the storm was raging as it did during the previouscyclones. I realized that I should have to stay here for some time, and ate my last provisions somewhat pensively. I only hoped thatthe launch had found an anchorage, else she must inevitably havebeen wrecked, and I should be left at the mercy of the natives foran indefinite time. The hut in which I camped did not keep off therain, and I was wet and uncomfortable; thus I spent the first of aseries of miserable nights. I was anxious to know the fate of thelaunch, and this in itself was enough to worry me; then I was withoutreading or writing materials, and my days were spent near a smokyfire, watching the weather, trying to find a dry spot, sleeping andwhistling. Sometimes a few natives came to keep me company; and onceI got hold of a man who spoke a little biche la mar, and was willingto tell me about some old-time customs. However, like most natives, hesoon wearied of thinking, so that our conversations did not last long. 

The natives kept me supplied with food in the most hospitable manner:yam, taro, cabbage, delicately prepared, were at my disposal; but, unaccustomed as I was to this purely vegetable diet, I soon felt sucha craving for meat that I began to dream about tinned-meat, surely nota normal state of things. To add to my annoyance, rumours got afloatto the effect that the launch was wrecked; and if this was true, my situation was bad indeed. 

On the fifth day I decided to try and find the anchorage where Isupposed the launch to be. The wind had dropped a little, but it wasstill pouring, and the walk through the slippery, devastated forest, up and down steep hills and gullies, across fallen trees, in a thick, oppressive fog, was strenuous enough. In the afternoon, hearing thatthe launch was somewhere near, we descended to the coast, where we cameupon the captain and the crew. They had managed to anchor the launchat the outbreak of the storm, and had camped in an old hut on thebeach; but the huge waves, breaking over the reef, had created sucha current along the beach that the launch had dragged her anchors, and was now caught in the worst of the waves and would surely go downshortly. Unfortunately the captain had sent the dinghey ashore sometime before coming to this bay, so that there was no means whateverof reaching the launch. The rising sea had threatened to wash awaythe hut, and the captain, leaving the boat to her fate, had gonecamping inland. 

I went down to the beach to see for myself how things stood, andwas forced to admit that the man had not exaggerated. In the midstof the raging surf the launch rocked to and fro, and threateningwaves rose on every side and often seemed to cover her. Still she washolding her own, and had evidently not struck a rock as yet; and ifher cables held out, hope was not lost. I watched her fight for lifefor some time, and she defended herself more gallantly than I shouldever have expected from so clumsy a craft; but I had little hope. Wespent a miserable night in the village, in a heavy atmosphere, amidvermin and filth, on an uneven stone floor. The rain rattled on theroof, the storm roared in the forest like a passing express train, the sea thundered from afar, and a river echoed in a gorge near by;to complete the gloomy scene, a violent earthquake shook the hills. 

In the morning the launch was still afloat on the same spot; thewind had abated, and the sky no longer looked quite so stormy. Duringthe night things improved still more, and we ventured to camp on theshore. The boys went for the dinghey, and although they had hard work, half dragging, half carrying it along the shore over the cliffs, theysucceeded in bringing it to our beach, and then made an attempt to rowto the launch, but were almost carried out beyond the reef. Encouragedby a faintly rosy sunset and a few stars, we waited another day;then the current along the coast had nearly ceased, only outside thereef huge mountains of water rolled silently and incessantly past, and broke thundering against the cliffs. The second attempt to reachthe launch was successful, and, wonderful to relate, she had sufferedno damage, only she had shipped so much water that everything wassoaked and rusty. The engineer began to repair her engines, and byevening she steamed back to her anchorage, where we welcomed her asif she had been a human being. 

The wind had quite fallen when we steamed out next day. It was dullweather, and we were rocked by an enormous swell; yet the water waslike a mirror, and the giant waves rose and disappeared without asound. It all seemed unnatural and uncanny, and this may have producedthe frightened feeling that held us all that morning. While we werecrossing over to Port Patterson a sharp wind rose from the north, and the barometer fell, so that we feared another edition of thestorm. If our engines had broken down, which happened often enough, we should have been lost, for we were in a region where the swellcame from two directions, and the waves were even higher than inthe morning. Fortunately the wind increased but slowly; presentlywe were protected by the coast, and at night we arrived at PortPatterson. The men had given us up, and welcomed us with somethingakin to tenderness. Here, too, the cyclone had been terrible, theworst of the three that had passed in four weeks. 

Soon afterwards the steamer arrived, bringing news of many wrecks andaccidents. A dozen ships had been smashed at their anchorages, fourhad disappeared, and three were known to have foundered; in addition, news came of the wreck of a steamer. Hardly ever had so many fallenvictims to a cyclone. 

Painfully and slowly our steamer ploughed her way south through theabnormally high swell. None of the anchorages on the west coast couldbe touched, and everywhere we saw brown woods, leafless as in winter, and damaged plantations; and all the way down to Vila we heard ofnew casualties. 

CHAPTER XV

TANNA

Of the larger inhabited islands of the New Hebrides, only Tannaremained to be visited. Instead of stopping at Vila, I went on toWhite Sands, Tanna, where the Rev. M. Was stationed. The largeisland of Erromanga has but little native population, and thatis all christianized; the same is true of the smaller islands ofAneityum, Aniwa and Futuna. I preferred to study Tanna, as it ischaracteristic of all the southern part of the archipelago. Thepopulation is quite different from that in the north, and one wouldcall it Polynesian, were it not for the curly hair which showsMelanesian admixture. Light-coloured, tall, strong, with the fleshybody that is often a feature of the Polynesian, the people have, notinfrequently, fine open features, small noses and intelligent facesof oval outline. They are more energetic, warlike and independentthan those up north, and their mode of life is different, the Suqueand everything connected with it being entirely absent. Instead, wefind hereditary chieftainship, as in all Polynesia, and the chiefsare held in the highest veneration by their subjects. This state ofthings was greatly to the advantage of the missions, as the chiefs, even if converted, retained their authority, whereas in the north thehigh castes, on their conversion, lost all influence and position, as these only depended on the Suque. The brilliant results of themissions in Tanna are due, apart from the splendid work of the twoPresbyterian missionaries, chiefly to this fact. If the missionariesand the authorities would join forces for the preservation of thenative race, great good might be done. Intelligent efforts alongthis line ought to comprise the following features: revival of thewish to live and the belief in a future for the race, increase inthe birth-rate, rational distribution of the women, abolition of thepresent recruiting system, compulsory medical treatment, creationof law and order, and restoration of old customs as to daily lifeand food. 

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

Quite a Polynesian art is the manufacture of tapa: bark cloth. TheTannese do not know how to make large pieces, but are satisfied withnarrow strips, used as belts by the men, and prettily painted inblack and red. 

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

On the whole, the culture of the Tannese is low; there is no braidingor carving, and the ornaments worn consist only of a few braceletsand necklaces, with an occasional nose-stick; the only conspicuousfeature are ear-rings of tortoise-shell, of which as many as a dozenmay hang in one ear. 

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

Tanna's most striking sight is its volcano; there is hardly anotherin the world so easily accessible; for in half an hour from theshore its foot may be reached, and in another half-hour one is atthe top. It is about 260 m. High, a miniature volcano, with all itsaccessories complete, hot springs, lake, desert, etc. , always active, rarely destructive, looking like an overgrown molehill. A wide plainstretches inland, utterly deserted owing to the poisonous vapoursalways carried across it by the south-east trade-wind, and in thecentre of the plain is a sweet-water lake. 

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XVI

THE SANTA CRUZ ISLANDS

After my return to Port Vila, where I again had the honour of beingMr. King's guest, and having practically finished my task in theNew Hebrides, I decided not to leave this part of the world withoutvisiting the Santa Cruz Islands, a group of small islands north ofthe New Hebrides and east of the Solomon Islands. This archipelagohas not had much contact with civilization, and is little known. I hada good opportunity to go there, as the steam yacht Southern Cross ofthe Anglican mission in Melanesia was expected to stop at Vila on herway to the Solomons. She touched at the Santa Cruz island of Nitendigoing and returning, and could therefore drop me and take me up againafter about six weeks. While waiting for her arrival, I investigatedsome caves on Leleppa, near Port Havannah, which the natives reportedto be inhabited by dwarfish men; but the results were insignificant. 

Passage having been granted me by the skipper of the Southern Cross, I once more sailed the well-known route northward through the NewHebrides and Banks Islands; but from Ureparapara onward I was instrange waters. The Southern Cross was a steamer of about fivehundred tons, built especially for this service, that is, to conveythe missionaries and natives from the headquarters on Norfolk Islandto the different islands. Life on board was far from luxurious; butthere was good company and an interesting library. I had the pleasureof making some interesting acquaintances, and the missionaries gave memuch valuable information about the natives and their customs. Whenthe tone of the conversation in the evening threatened to becometoo serious, our jovial Captain S. Speedily improved matters byhis grotesquely comical sallies. A strenuous life was that of themissionary who was responsible for the organization of the voyage;he had to visit the native communities, and went ashore at everyanchorage, sometimes through an ugly surf or dangerous shoals, generally with overcrowded whale-boats; and this went on for threemonths. I had nothing to do, and amused myself by comparing theboys from the various islands, who were quite different in looks, speech and character. There were the short, thick-set, plebeiannatives from the New Hebrides, the well-built men from the Solomons, with their long faces and open, energetic expression, the languid, sleepy boys from the Torres Islands and the savage Santa Cruzians. 

The trip of the Southern Cross was important as an experiment, beingthe first with an exclusively native crew. Hitherto the Melanesians hadbeen considered incapable of any work calling for energy, initiativeand conscientiousness. Captain C. Was convinced that this was unjust, and started on this voyage without any whites except the officers;the result was most satisfactory. The natives, when carefully andpatiently trained, work quite as well as low-class whites, and haveproved themselves capable of more than plantation work. 

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

The natives here have a bad reputation, and are supposed to beparticularly dangerous, because they never stir from home withouttheir poisoned arrows. A missionary had recently been forced to leavethe island, after having been besieged by the natives for severaldays. But it would seem that they are not hostile unless one of theirmany intricate laws and customs is violated, which may happen easilyenough to anyone unacquainted with their habits. 

I took up my quarters with the only white man in the place, a Mr. M. , who managed a cocoa-nut plantation for an Australian company withboys from the Solomons. My first task was to find servants, as nonehad dared accompany me from the New Hebrides to the ill-famed SantaCruz Islands. Through his coprah trade Mr. M. Knew the people well, and by his help I soon found two boys who had some vague notionof biche la mar, real savages, who served me well in a childish, playful way. They were always jolly, and although they seemed tolook upon what they did for me rather as a kindness than a duty, wegot along fairly well. When it became known that my service impliedgood food and little work, many others applied, but I only chose oneyoung fellow, probably the most perfect specimen of a man I haveever seen. He kept himself scrupulously clean, and in his quiet, even behaviour there was something that distinguished him from allthe rest. It is difficult to put the beauty of a human body intowords; I can only say that he was of symmetrical build, with a deepchest and well-developed limbs, but without the great muscles thatwould have given him the coarse aspect of an athlete. His greatestcharm was in the grace of his movements and the natural nobilityof his attitudes and his walk; for he moved as lightly and daintilyas a deer, and it was a constant pleasure, while walking behind himduring our marches through the forest, to admire his elastic gait, the play of his muscles and the elegant ease with which he threadedthe thicket. I tried to take some photographs of him, but withoutgreat success, owing to technical difficulties; besides, the face hadto be hidden as much as possible, as to a European eye the natives'faces often seem to have a brutal expression. The men of Santa Cruz, too, wear disfiguring nose-rings of tortoise-shell hanging down overtheir mouths, so large that when eating they have to be lifted up outof the way with the left hand. Another ugly habit is the chewing ofbetel, the nut of the areca palm, which is mixed with pepper leavesand lime. The lime is carried in a gourd, often decorated with drawingsand provided with an artistically carved stopper. The leaves and thisbottle are kept in beautifully woven baskets, the prettiest productsof native art, made of banana fibre interwoven with delicate designsin black. Betel-chewing seems to have a slightly intoxicating effect;my boys, at least, were often strangely exhilarated in the evening, although they had certainly had no liquor. The lime forms a blackdeposit on the teeth, which sometimes grows to such a size as to hangout of the mouth, an appendage of which some natives seem rather vain. 

The dress of the men consists of a narrow belt of bark and a stripof tapa worn between the legs. Around their knees and ankles theywear small, shiny shells, and on their chests a large circularplate of tridacna-shell, to which is attached a dainty bit of carvedtortoise-shell representing a combination of fish and turtle. Thisbeautiful ornament is very effective on the dark skin. In the lobesof the ears are hung large tortoise-shell ornaments, and on the armslarge shell rings or bracelets braided with shell and cocoa-nut beadsare worn. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The position of women in Santa Cruz is peculiar, although theSuque does not exist, and therefore no separation of fires isenforced. Masculine jealousy seems to have reached its climax here, forno man from another village even dares look at a woman. The women'shouses are a little inland, away from the gamal and separated byhigh walls from the outer world. Most of the houses are square, butthere are some circular ones, a type very rare in these regions. Tomy regret I was never able to examine one of these round houses, so that I have no idea how they are built. To enter the women'squarters, or to approach nearer than 100 mètres to any woman, isa deadly offence, and such breaches of etiquette are the cause offrequent feuds. Only once I was taken by one of my boys through thelanes of his village, and this was considered very daring, and thelimit of permissible investigation. However, with the help of Mr. M. , who was practically a "citizen" of one of the villages, I succeededin taking some photographs of women; but only the oldest dowagers andsome sick girls presented themselves, and among them I saw the mostrepulsive being I ever met, --an old shrivelled-up hag. At sight ofsuch a creature one cannot wonder that old women were often accusedof sorcery. 

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

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

I found neither drums nor statues here, and of the local religionI could learn nothing. There is a skull-cult, similar to that onMalekula: a man will paint the skull of a favourite wife or childyellow, shut all the openings with wooden stoppers and carry the relicabout with him. Towards the end of my stay I obtained possession ofsome of these interesting skulls. The idea in shutting the holes isdoubtless to preserve the spirit of the dead inside the skull. 

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

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

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

This time we touched at a small island called Tucopia, wherea primitive Polynesian population still exists, probably the onlyisland where this is the case. When the steamer approached we saw thepeople running about on the reef in excitement, and soon countlesscanoes surrounded us. The appearance of these islanders was quite newto me. Instead of the dark, curly-haired, short Melanesians, I sawtall, light-coloured men with thick manes of long, golden hair. Theyclimbed aboard, wonderful giants, with soft, dark eyes, kind smilesand childlike manners. They went everywhere, touched everything, and flattered and caressed us. We were all eager to go ashore, and atthe edge of the reef an excited crowd awaited our arrival impatientlyand pulled our boat violently on the rocks in their eagerness. Twotall fellows grabbed me under the arms, and, willy-nilly, I wascarried across the reef and carefully deposited under a shady treeon the beach. At first I did not quite trust my companions, but Iwas powerless to resist, and soon I became more confident, as mynew friends constantly hugged and stroked me. Soon a missionary wasbrought ashore in the same way, and then, to our greatest surprise, a man approached us who spoke biche la mar. He asked if we had nosickness on board, for some time ago the same ship had infected theisland with an epidemic that had caused many deaths. We assured himthat we had none, and he gave us permission to visit the island, telling us, too, that we were to have the great honour of beingpresented to one of the four chiefs. This was indeed something tobe proud of, for in Polynesian islands the chieftainship, as I havesaid, is hereditary, and the chiefs are paid honours almost divine. Wetook off our hats and were led before the chief, a tall, stout man, who sat in a circle of men on a sort of throne, with his ceremonialspear leaning against a tree beside him. His subjects approached himcrouching, but he shook hands with us and smiled kindly at us. A noblegesture of the hand gave us leave to taste a meal prepared to welcomeus, which looked most uninviting, but turned out to be beautifullycooked sago and cocoa-nut cream. We could not finish the generousportions, and presently signed that we were satisfied; the chiefseemed to regret that we did not do more honour to his hospitality, but he gave us permission to walk about. While all the other nativesran about in great excitement over our visit, the good old man sat onhis throne all the time, quite solemnly, although I am convinced thathe was fairly bursting with curiosity. We hurried through the village, so as to get a general idea of the houses and implements, and thento the beach, which was a beautiful sight. Whereas on Melanesianislands the dancing-grounds only are kept cleared, and surroundedby thick shrubbery for fear of invasion, here all the underbrushhad been rooted out, and the shore was like a park, with a splendidview through dark tree-trunks across the blue sea, while the golden, godlike forms of the natives walked about with proud, regal gait, or stood in animated groups. It was a sight so different in itspeaceful simplicity from what I was accustomed to see in Melanesia, it all looked so happy, gay and alluring that it hardly needed theinvitations of the kind people, without weapons or suspicion, andwith wreaths of sweet-scented flowers around their heads and bodies, to incline us to stay. Truly, the sailors of old were not to blame ifthey deserted in numbers on such islands, and preferred the carelessnative life to hard work on board a whaler. Again and again I seemedto see the living originals of some classical picture, and more andmore my soul succumbed to the intoxicating charm of the lovely island. 

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

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

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

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

THE END