The Land of the Hibiscus Blossom

Preface

LAST year, while travelling over Australasia collecting material for a work then being prepared, I thought to score a point for my firm while up in Northern Queensland by visiting that as yet considerably dark island, New Guinea.

The Melbourne editor and agent at once consented to my proposal, and considered, with me, that it would be of great advantage to the work if I could make my notes and sketches from the savages and their land direct, if I thought it was worth risking my life for; but was it after all worth the risk?

In Australia, New Guinea is a name to inspire fear and trembling; they are much nearer to the dreaded cannibals, and hear more of their deeds of atrocity than we in England are and do. Tales of death from fever to those who luckily escape the spears and poisoned arrows float down monthly.

God help you if you go to that fever-stricken land, wrote a Victorian friend, by way of farewell.

I considered it worth the risk, and as I had in former years lived with the cannibals of New Zealand, besides having had some distant relations wolfed amongst them in the good old days, I did not feel quite the same shrinking as a new chum might.

It was rather amusing to hear the sad forebodings of casual friends whom I picked up as I progressed towards my destination; the nearer I drew to it, the sadder became the gloomy farewells.

You are too plump to escape the natives.

Just the temperament to catch the fever quickly. And so on.

I made friends at Thursday Island, and was fortunate enough to find the mail-steamer going, not only to Moresby, but round the coast as far as Teste Island; so Mr. Vivian Bowden, the plucky manager of the enterprising firm of Messrs. Burns, Philip, and Co., made up his mind to take a little holiday and accompany me on the voyage round the British part of the island.

I am indebted to his kindness in many ways; not less to his great patience, allowing me to use their vessel pretty much as I liked, but in giving me time to take as many sketches as I wished, besides introducing me to the genial and generous traders throughout the islands of the Torres Straits, and where they had ventured to establish stations in New Guinea.

I met with no mishaps from natives, nor did I catch the fever. Everywhere I was cordially received and overpowered with kindness: by the Governor, his Excellency Sir John Douglas, the missionaries, white and coloured, the traders, and those splendid man-eaters, the natives; so that now I can hardly know which to admire or regret the most, since fate has forced me to say adieu.

I mixed with the traders and listened to their thrilling tales night after night; I went amongst the natives, who gave me presents, looked wonderingly upon my sketches, and treated me like a friend and brother, acting with scrupulous honesty, and feeling my arms and legs with apparent pleasure, but without desire.

The Kanaka teachers whom I met astonished me, without exception, by their patience under no ordinary sufferings and their Christian heroism; they had come to the land to lay down their lives, and went with contented faces about their daily sacrifices.

With the missionaries it was the same, Protestant and Catholic; it was not only a question of giving up the necessities of civilization, but the yielding up of their lives.

To write a story about New Guinea and introduce fictitious characters I found to be one of the most distasteful tasks I have ever attempted, as the number of white men who have as yet been there are so few that they are all known, with their characteristics, as well as the names of the islands, with their differences of outline, which lie about the coast.

Again, when I tried to work out my characters, the men I had known came up so vividly before me that I found it next to impossible to resist describing some peculiarity when building up my heroes.

Therefore, if any one is inclined to take umbrage, or fancy himself to be the person I describe, because in some points he may trace a resemblance, I trust he will exonerate me entirely as he reads, and believe me when I tell him that It is not you I mean.

There are no such characters in reality as Niggeree, Carolina Joe, General Flagcroucher, or Professor Killmann—remember that always as you read; they are entirely imaginary characters, or, rather, embodied principles of what might influence the future of this great island, if lawlessness was allowed to run riot and religion and order were not in the majority.

Yet I will, however, admit that there was a Toto at Hula. He may be known to those who have been there, particularly to those who may have been unjustly blamed for his iniquities.

Regarding the geographical correctness of locality, however, the truth of colouring, and the habits and customs of the people, I have been most rigid, and never for a moment permitted myself a licence; also I do not think that I have exaggerated the murders. If the incidents did not happen while I was there, that they have taken place, and are taking place weekly, a glance at the Government records of massacres and atrocities will convince any one; so that, although I escaped hurtless, it might have been otherwise I will at once admit.

Besides my own observations, I was indebted while in the Papuan Gulf for much information from Mr. Andrew Golchi, botanist and naturalist at Port Moresby, who placed his diaries and experiences of ten years at my disposal; Mr. Cuthbertson and party of surveyors; Mr. Bruce and the young missionary, Mr. Savage, at Murray Island; Father Virgirce at Yule Island; Messrs. Gerise and Moresby, of York Island; Mr. Kissick, of Teste Island; and Mr. A. Morton, Curator of the Museum, Hobart, a New Guinea traveller; besides many of the native teachers and traders with whom I sojourned.

His Excellency Sir John Douglas and his representative, Mr. Milman, at Thursday Island, also gave me the benefit of their experiences, and authenticated the sketches and notes which I had taken.

The Rev. Mr. and Mrs. Lawes I only saw for a few minutes at Port Moresby, as they had just returned from a coasting cruise; but when I reached England I had the benefit of many hints and suggestions from the Rev. James Chalmers, whom I met in London; also a very great amount of valuable information from my lately-gained friend, the Rev. Dr. S. Macfarlane, LL.D., whose long experience in the South Seas and New Guinea fully warrants the trust which I place in his criticisms.

Details of the discovery of two important rivers since I left the Papuan coast I received from my friend James Burns—to whom I beg to dedicate my story—Mr. Theodore Burns being the explorer, for particulars of which discovery see note on New Rivers.

I admire the missionaries, as I admire the traders, when I can place myself on their different platforms and look as they do; they are working faithfully and well in their different ways to civilize the savages. Yet this is not a missionary tale, but the words of one who believes as Professor John Ruskin believes, that what the savage gains from religion and civilization is not equivalent to his own benefits when left alone.

On the whole, I think we civilized savages murder as much and as atrociously as the so-called savages do in dark lands, even though we may not eat our victims; and, aside from this evil, I fancy that they are happier in their simplicity than we are with our vaunted civilization.

Still, since we have souls to be redeemed, and if the penalty of ignorance is damnation, then it is the duty of the missionary to enlighten the dark races, and ours as Christians, to help them to our utmost in their noble work.

Looking on the savages of New Guinea from a material standpoint, I think that they are much more comfortable as they now are than are our English poor—indeed, than many of our English middle-classes—who are fighting so madly for an existence, while they, the natives, bask away luxuriously on their coral-fringed and sunny strands.

Professor John Ruskin, the philanthropist and friend of mankind in general, wrote to me on my arrival in England, saying, I hope you intend to print some record of the kindness of the native race, whom I suppose our Christianity will now soon extinguish with gunpowder and brandy.

I have endeavoured to give a faithful record of the natives and their kindness, when not abused, towards strangers; and I trust to be able to tell further, at some future time, of their traits. As yet I can vouch that I never saw a native of New Guinea touch intoxicants; they are simple in their diet and drink, and have no more taken to our firewater than they have taken to our other habits. But how long it will be before they lose their simplicity, become converts, and finally are extinguished, is but a question of time.

We who are the favoured ones of earth teach the naked races how to dress themselves before we bury them. It is the legend of the devil and Adam being constantly enacted under the specious title, Civilization.

THE AUTHOR.

Chapter

1

An Island in the Torres Straits

A DARK NIGHT, AS NIGHTS are in the tropics before the moon rises, in spite of those dense clusters of stars which stain, like milk-splashes, the intense blue-black of that vault above, or the more isolated worlds which hang, as if they were electric globes let down by invisible wires, from that vast ceiling, whose extremity the eye cannot reach!

Very bright those irregularly hung lamps; very close-set, and sparkling, those clusters of gems beyond, very filmy the milk-stains upon that blue—black roof; but the space is too mighty to be illuminated even by those myriad lights, their effulgence is sucked up by the miles of atmosphere, and so on the shores, and in the jungle, darkness grapples with form and wins the battle; the eye looking up becomes dazed with that studded diamond vault and blinded to all beneath.

It is an island within that great barrier reef, which extends from above Keppel Bay to Cape York, and along the Torres Straits to the Papuan Gulf, making eternal summer and calm seas—one of those islands raised by the insect creators of continents, who are for ever working, regardless of time; one of the many formed, or in process of formation, which greet the anxious glance of the mariner every few miles of his dangerous navigation through those uncertain waters upon which the sun warmly smiles, and shows in the varied shades of delicious green, the spots to be avoided; and, in the threads of amethyst, the narrow passages to trust for safety. There are no charts to guide the mariner as yet, only the sharp eyes and the steady head; for woe to the unlucky master who pins his faith to a chart, when his vessel sails within these reefs.

This island has been long established as a place of call for vessels going pearl-fishing, bêche-de-mer, or copra collecting, and is inhabited by a tribe of blacks who give hospitality and work to the traders who have settled amongst them, and who feed them and teach them the refinements of civilization, in return for hospitality and assistance in their business.

The island is well protected from rough seas by the great coral wall which lies about two miles to westward, and is guarded from the near approach of uninvited visitors by hummocks and sharp-edged fringes which are covered at low-tide and surround the smooth sand-shore, layer within layer, with fathomless depths of ocean between, until the innermost fringe is passed. Then a long spread of shallow water has to be waded over, before dry land is reached, so that the trader, as he sits in his bungalow with his friendly servant-hosts behind him, need only wait and finish his pipe, if the visitor chances to be one of those interfering personages, until the unwary vessel safely runs and sticks against the protecting reef-walls, when he sallies forth to rescue the wrecked crew and claim the wreckage according to the very just and proper law of flotsam.

On this dark night there were several small stranger vessels lying about alongside Carolina Joe's own craft. (Carolina Joe was the title this protector of these friendly natives bore amongst his friends and admirers.) As these vessels were all safely at anchor-age, we must conclude that they had been here before, and did not come for hostile purpose.

Neat little craft, rocking under the starlight, and breaking the reflection of the sparkles below with their hulls and hull-shadows, but with nothing definite as regards outline or proportion.

On shore—along the dark strips of sand discernible only because of the more intense shadow of the palm and croton groves behind and the jet-like reflecting blackness of the water lapping softly against dead shells and broken fragments of coral—a heavy breath breaking upon the silence along with a faint cocoa-nut odour, apprises one of a native gliding past. The sand is smooth, and hard, and pleasant to the bare feet where it is not covered with those spider-spiked shells; and from the shallow parts you step upon a smooth warm plain, for the night is still too young for the heavy dews to cool the ground; thence into the copse, guided by the faint red glow from the drying-house. This gleam comes through the crevices of the corrugated iron sides of the shed, or further on from the hut, where the king and his family wait awake for the orders of their friend and master, the trader, and where they silently squat and smoke. The red fire from their pipes, and the sombre glow from their neglected log alone break upon the blackness of the night.

It is all quiet and indefinite until a splash of oars, from the rocking boats, breaks in upon the repose, a gentle splashing of paddles used by dextrous hands, and the huts are deserted, while the lonely shore is peopled as if by magic.

They are landing something from the boats, and, without a word spoken, the object is taken out, lifted by two indistinct forms, and carried forward, while the canoe drifts back again as the crowd disappear into the general dark envelopment of night, and once more all is still.

Chapter

2

Captain Cook's Telescope

THIS YER TELESCOPE, mates, belonged to Capting Cook.

Coudn't ha' believed it?

No, there's not a many as can.

Carolina Joe, as host, was exhibiting the curiosities of his bungalow to the brother traders, who were now sharing his hospitality for the night, some on their way to New Guinea, some to the islands and stations scattered over Torres Straits, devoted to pearl-fishing, copra or bêche-de—mer collecting, bird or curio hunting, &c.

The etceteras of their profession included various modes of making money, which may appear in the course of their conversations, and so need not be here explained.

Joe held in his brown paws a large copper and canvas-bound telescope, much battered, though hardly of ancient enough pattern to have done service in the Endeavour; yet, as these honest old sailors, who formerly scoured the seas and now bask their declining days under the cocoanuts, are proverbial for their rigid adherence to facts, it might have been Cook's.

This is how it happened, mates: ye all remember the Polly going on the reefs half a mile from here?

That night you lighted the fires at the wrong place, you old beach—coomber, observed, in a very gruff voice, a swarthy young man, from a corner where he sat panikin in hand, almost doubled up from the remains of the malaria fever.

That was the night, Nig! only you're all out about the fires, I knowst nothink what-some-ever about these yer fires; the natives had a wake on that night, and I was sound asleep until they called me up next morning, and no one can say that I didn't do my duty as a man; I saved the crew, as ye all know, and lent them my boat Daisy to carry them to Thursday Island.

That's true, Joe, the same smack that you afterwards sold the French missionary with, and which they have christened Pope Pius; and you say you are a good catholic.

I am a darned freethinker, as all the world knows; I've got all the books on it in that yer chest along o' my revolver and 'munition, and I only did my duty by that yer Daisy. Didn't these missionary chaps want to get to Yule Island after they were refused permits to land on New Guinea, and didn't they see the cursed smack afore they bought her? that was fair and square dealing, wasn't it? Did they ever ax me one question as to her age, or state of repair? and didn't they offer me right away 80l. for her, and no questions axed, and was I going to be a darned old fool and tell them she was rotten? Not likely, boys; Carolina Joe wasn't raised in old Virginia to come it that way; besides, didn't I get the boys to paint it all neat over inside and out without being axed in the bargain?

Joe paused a moment, flourishing Captain Cook's relic in his right hand and his empty panikin in the other, and glaring savagely in the direction of the doubled-up Nig, who only smiled quietly, without replying.

That's all correct, Joe; you did, even before they saw her, as soon as you heard they wanted a boat, cried out a very slender, gentlemanly young fellow dressed in spotless white, with an aristocratic and clean-cut face, who had twice filled his can from the bottle while Joe was speaking—but go on about the telescope.

Joe swaggered over to the deal plank which did service for a table, emptied about half a bottle of whisky into his panikin, drank it straight away without winking, and, drawing the hairy back of his hand across his grizzly beard, went over through the soft sand to his former place beside his sea-chest, and continued:—

Wall, along o' the other articles in that er wreck (and precious little there war, for all the trouble as I took over it).

What trouble, Joe? asked the young man, filling up for the fourth time, and emptying the bottle as he inquired.

Landing it on the safest reef in course; didn't I watch her all that cursed arternoon a-coming on afore the wind with the infernal moon—soon blowing in my teeth, and not a drop o' liquer to keep the ague back.

Oh you did, did you?

Of course a man's got to keep his eyes about him, or them niggers allays bungle business, an' not a wink o' sleep that night I got, thinking they'd get off after all.

But I thought you were fast asleep that night, observed Nig softly.

Asleep, who do you think could plant the fires right if I fell asleep?

A general grin passed round the company, as one little girlish-looking man, with bright blue eyes and fair moustache, drew with his knife corkscrew the corks from three more bottles of whisky, while the others held out their panikins for him to fill up, and then they settled down to listen, and light their pipes.

Cartainly Queen Ine is purty smart, and can do most anything I teach her to do, but it's best to superintend delicate work oneself.

Quite right, Joe! Quite right, responded, in a thin voice, Captain Allan Collins, with his head on one side; he wore it thus, not from choice or habit, but from necessity, having had it nearly severed at one time by natives, the same cause which produced his piping voice.

But about that telescope, Joe; how do you know it to have been Cook's? asked the youth with the clean-cut features.

Because after we got that wreck broken up, I found it amongst the coral under her hull, and because his name war written on it; of course, mates, it warn't very plain, yet I could just make it out, though the friction had wore off the date. I could just make out the letters, 'COOK,' a way he had o' spellin' his name, I believe.

Not an uncommon way of spelling cook. Might it not have belonged to some ship's cook—?

This from the youth with an air of innocence, upon which the others laughed.

Ship's cook! When did ye ever hear of a cook with a telescope like this?

It certainly would be superfluous furniture to cart about, but let's see it; is the name still on it?

Wall, you see, Queen Ine is fond o' polishing up brass work, and I guess that's how it wore off, but it was there when we fust had it, wasn't it, 'Spears'?

Oh, yes! right under where the canvas now is, we covered it so to preserve it, responded Spears, from his chin.

After it was gone, murmured Nig sadly, puffing out a little smoke from his nearly finished pipe.

Chapter

3

In the Bungalow

CAROLINA JOE'S ABODE, where this little convivial gathering of friends were now seated, was built after the style of the native houses upon the islands; a hut with posts and rafters of bamboo, lathed with split cane, walls and roof thatched with fronds of the bamboo and tattered fringes of the banana, a sloping roof with the ragged ends of the thatch hanging down between the bars of split cane, walls hung at odd places with tortoiseshells strung together and ready for transport, native curios, spears, shields, and ornaments, all there for sale purposes, yet giving the interior a most picturesque appearance. A rough form had been made by Spears, formerly a ship's carpenter, but who now represented the handy man of the island, a table likewise made from a roughly sawn board, and which, with three sea-chests, comprised the furniture of the bungalow—that is with the exception of the bamboo couches; with these the place was plentifully supplied, three sides of the room being taken up with them; broad springy couches, each capable of accommodating six or eight people, and where Joe was wont to loll and smoke during the days when there was no drink in the locker, for on these balmy islands whisky does not come every day in the week, nor even once in the month. Sometimes months passed before the ordered case arrived, and when it did turn up, one day was sufficient to empty it, the rest of the long interval having to be spun out with cocoa-nut milk. To-night Joe was merry, for three long-delayed cases had arrived all at once, so that the result meant a glorious orgie while they lasted.

The bungalow had been raised on the sands which served for floor and carpet, soft fine dry sand into which the feet sank deeply; like all native houses the door-way served to admit fresh air and light, so that while by day the sun glared outside, and beat upon the sea shores until they felt nearly red hot, or slanted in long white rays between the fronds of palms, here there was always a cool and constant twilight.

A pleasant home to rest in, amid tropic heats, in spite of the multitudinous life which swarmed and throve amidst that tawny coloured thatch; scorpions, centipedes, spiders and snakes—one gets used to all that as one gets used to mosquitoes, and soon forgets the dangers and discomforts; but upon the stranger, the flop-flap of the poisonous snake moving about at nights after mice and vermin inside the sleeping quarters, has a disturbing effect. The thud of the large centipede, as it drops from the roof upon your face or shoulders is apt to cause a shudder, while the sight of a huge hairy-limbed tarantula lazily moving towards you, not many feet off, does not conduce to speedy repose, any more than the buzzing and stinging of the myriad mosquitoes will do; yet to all these discomforts time brings the cure, and after all it is astonishing how little trouble there is about even misery when one gets used to it.

A pair of tight boots, or the parting with a dear friend, shape in alike by degrees.

This night the mosquitoes swarmed in myriads; spotted fiends bred in the mangroves and making night musical with their revengeful ditties; in the soft sands one being pricked in the foot never felt sure whether it was the bite of a centipede or the sharp edge of a shell; from the slender rafters heavy webs swung undisturbed, the whole only faintly lighted by the single tallow-candle which flared in the night breeze and overflowed the square sides of the empty gin-bottle which served as a candlestick. But those assembled were long accustomed to sights like this; indeed this represented Elysium after the close cabins of their little vessels, and they spread out their scantily clad limbs with an air of unaccustomed comfort.

A ruddy illumination of bronzed faces, bare arms and legs, and exposed chests, as they sat there gradually getting mellow and disconnected in their articulation, while fresh corks were drawn, and young cocoanuts emptied of their fluid.

These young cocoanuts are only used for the milk, which serves instead of water to quench thirst or dilute spirits, although on nights like this, and in such company, like the water used in the punch-brew of the Noctes club, one cocoanut went much further than a bottle of Tappit Hen.

The apartment was about eighteen feet by twelve, so that the company sat close and the single candle served to make objects discernible while at the same time flinging heavy shadows behind and above.

Spears and Danby (the youth with the aristocratic features) half reclined upon one of the couches in the shady side of the room, dangling their naked limbs, with their pijamas rolled up to the thighs for the sake of wading freely, and dipping their feet into the soft loose sand which they caught up between their toes and scattered about while they drank and smoked.

By the plank-table, and crouched together leaning his bare brown arms against it, sat Nig, or Niggeree, as the natives called him; sallow, thin, and looking undersized and weary, from the after prostration of the fever he had gone through, that wasting fever caught at Port Moresby: to-night he appeared to be about twenty-six; a weak young man, speaking in a low dejected tone, and with great effort; he was clean shaven, with regular features and eyes black and filmy; he only spoke when addressed or when chaffing Joe, and then said as little as he could as if finding the attempt too much for his strength; his pipe had gone out and he did not attempt to light it afresh, and when he lifted his can to his lips he merely tasted the contents, and put it down again with a contortion as if it was medicine.

Near him, on one of the sea-chests, sat Captain Allan Collins, with his head on one side, displaying a long thin neck, and sharing the seat with the German engineer, Hans Helfich; while on the ground amongst and half buried in the sand squatted the short and burly figure of that old sea—dog, Captain MacAndrews, master of the little reef-steamer Thunder, which now lay to leeward of the island.

The group here gathered together, and unconsciously striking up picturesque attitudes within this native-built hut, might well have been taken for a pirate crew holding their nightly orgies ashore under the wind-shaken flame of this candle—perhaps in drawing the picture it would be better to substitute a flaring torch for the flickering candle, only that this was a hut built of easily-ignited material instead of being a sea—rover's cave, while the gentlemen assembled were only honest traders and idlers out for an adventure instead of being bold buccaneers, so perhaps it is as well in