In Savage Isles and Settled Lands. Malaysia, Australasia, and Polynesia, 1888-1891 ... With numerous illustrations, etc

Preface

This book contains merely a short account of my impressions during a journey of some 50,000 miles, and extending over three years. A full account of all the countries visited would fill several volumes, and would form a work of a very different nature to the jottings contained herein, limited as far as possible to my own personal doings and observations. There is much, very much, both interesting and amusing that occurred during my sojourn in Queens land as A.D.C. to the Governor. But as such experiences would hardly be in keeping with a book of travel, I have not included more than the briefest descriptions of Australian life and society. My best thanks are due to the Rajah of Sarawak, and many others who have kindly looked through the manuscript. B. B.-P. Guards' Club, S.W. CONTENTS CHAPTER PA<.i: I. THROUGH THE OLD WORLD - - - - I II.

CEYLON AND INDIA - - - 32 III. SOUTHERN COLONIES OF AUSTRALIA - - S ' IV. QUEENSLAND - - - - - 85 V. PAPUA AND ITS PEOPLE - - 1 29 VI. NEW GUINEA WARFARE - 1 75 VII. MALAYSIA - - - - 2 10 VIII. BORNEO - 243 IX. NEW ZEALAND - - 287 X. THE TONGA OR FRIENDLY ISLES - - 314 XI. THE NAVIGATORS - 345 XII. THE SANDWICH ISLANDS - 378 XIII.

HOME THROUGH THE STATES - 392 MILEAGE OF THE JOURNEY - - 43 1 INDEX - - LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS PACK A NEW GUINEA LAKATOI - Cover new guinea natives - - Frontispiece MAP OF THE WORLD, SHOWING ROUTE FOLLOWED BY THE author - - - To face page i ADEN BY SUNRISE - - - - - 30 A NATURAL MADONNA - 72 PLAN OF SHEARING SHED - - - '75 BOTTLE-TREE AND GRASS-TREES - - - - 96 MAP OF EASTERN AUSTRALIA AND NEW GUINEA To face page 97 SECTION OF SUGAR-MILL - - 104 A QUEENSLAND BLACK - - - Il6 WOOMERA AND BOOMERANGS - 119 the barron falls - To face page 124 a cuscus - - - - - - 139 view from samarai - To face page 140 MAP OF THE EAST END OF NEW GUINEA - - 1 5 1 CATAMARAN - - - - 1 53 A NATIVE DRILL - - - 1 60 THE LAST CHARGE AT HUHUNA - - To face page I 77 SPEAR-HEADS - - 1 88 GREAT BLACK COCKATOO - "194 A MAN-CATCHER - - 200 new guinea TREE-HOUSE - - To face page 201 MOTUMOTU DANCE - - 205 JAVANESE CARRIER - - - LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS X I' AGE javanese bridges - - 22 7 chinese at dinner - " 234 traveller's tree - - - 237 rajah brooke's house - - 25' dyak dancers - " 255 map of north-west sarawak - 25" dyak suspension bridge - " 2°2 proboscis monkey - " - 276 monkey's skull - - - 27s 'mias' at home - To face page 279 santubong - - - To face page 282 NEW ZEALAND FLAX - " 293 GEYSER - " 3C9 MAP OF TONGA - - 315 A TONGAN ISLAND - - 31 7 TONGAN NATIVES - - - 31 S WOODEN GONG - - - - 340 KING GEORGE OF TONGA - - 342 APIA - - - - 346 CONSTRUCTION OF SAMOAN BOAT - - 347 SA MOAN CLUB - - - 348 THE KING'S GUARDS - - 355 the ceremony of king's cava - To face page 358 AN APPRECIATIVE AUDIENCE - 365 LADIES ON HORSEBACK - - 383 HILL IN OAHU - 386 THE LICK OBSERVATORY - - 408 THE CASTLE GATE - - - - 416 SNOW-SCREENS - - IN SAVAGE ISLES AND SETTLED LANDS

Chapter I. Through The Old World

The time for departure has arrived ! Feelings of excitement creep over one in spite of one's self. Sensations of pleasure and sorrow rise together. Pleasure at the prospect of all the many agreeable experiences one is likely to undergo during a journey which may last some years, and sorrow at the fare wells to one's relations and friends, people with whom one has lived and associated all one's life, and people whom perhaps one may never hope to see again ! Then there's the baggage, and that inevitable apprehension that one has forgotten to pack some thing of importance, and that brings thoughts of letters unwritten, and directions which should have been left with reference to various belongings and affairs. However, it is soon over. ' Good-byes ' are said ; final directions regarding health and the wearing of SAVAGE ISLES AND SETTLED LANDS 2 flannel, etc., are received as they should be by a dutiful son, and one is rattled off in a hansom to the station.

Here one is jostled about among the excited crowd of travellers and their leave-takers, bundled into a carriage, and finally the train moves out of the station and the journey is fairly com menced. With a sigh of relief, and a reckless, devil-may-care feeling about the ' things left undone,' one settles one's self down to reflect. Thus I found myself on the evening of February 3, 1888, starting on a journey to Australia vid Con stantinople and Suez, and in due time I was safely on board the night-boat for Rotterdam. Waking early next morning, a peculiar bubbling and scraping noise was going on. As I sat up in my bunk I began to come to the conclusion that we must be slowly but surely sinking ! I therefore thought it well to arise and dress myself, and on going on deck was surprised to see that the steamer was ploughing her way through fields of broken ice.

But she stuck to it manfully till we got to Rotter dam, where, however, the passengers had to be landed at a point some way down the river. I always liked Holland and the Dutch people ; at least, I like the latter, and they make the best of a bad bargain with the former. The cleanliness and the thrift of these peasants is wonderful to behold, their marvellous economy in utilizing every inch of ground for cultivation, and their delightfully quaint customs and tastes. How absolutely antithetical OLD v. NEW HOLLAND 3 is this half-submerged country with its dense popula tion of old-fashioned folk to the vast wastes and the shrewd colonists of the Australias which I was about to visit ! But we must be getting on, so, bidding adieu to the picturesque old red-brick houses, the canals and their barges, the women and young girls all wearing the same peculiar costume, and the dear dogs so cheerfully drawing their little carts, we flit onwards on our journey.

Then we get to Cologne, that Regent Circus of the Continent, and without stopping to look at the tourist-worn cathedral, or to invest in the genuine water of the place, we continue the tour up the banks of the Rhine. It is needless to describe the well-known river, with its headlands and castles and vineyards, nor shall I stop to discuss any of the towns we pass through, one of which, Darmstadt, with its savouring of second-class royalty, was very well known to me some years ago. Curious Old Nurnberg is passed ; one is pulled about by Custom-house officials at the frontier of Austria, and in a few hours more we are landed in Vienna. Speaking roughly, in the centre of Vienna is the old cathedral of St. Stephen, with its high tiled roof, and its spire 450 feet high. Round about the cathedral lies the old town, with its narrow crooked streets and interesting shops.

This is encircled by the ' Ring ' on three sides, and the river on the fourth. The Ring, which occupies the site of old fortifications, is, I think, the finest street I know, with its wide boulevards and numerous handsome buildings situated around it. Outside this extends the large new town. Vienna, like most inland places in these climes, can be very hot in summer and very cold in winter. But as in St. Petersburg you see men going about in the thickest overcoats on a hot summer's day, so here in Vienna in the depth of winter, with snow actually falling, you see men going without coats, women even without hats. Yet it is intensely cold, the streets are covered with frozen snow ; and gaily caparisoned, bell-bedecked horses dash along drawing their noiseless sledges. In the old town are some good curiosity shops, and old watches are a great speciality.

General Keith Fraser showed me one he got here, which on pressing a knob emitted the patriotic strains of ' Rule, Britannia !' I went one night to a ball at the British Embassy, where Sir Augustus and Lady Paget were dispensing hospitality to the elite of the place. The society of Vienna is said to be more exclusive than that of any other place in the world. No parvenu can hope to enter the charmed upper circles, and strangers are looked upon with suspicion unless specially intro duced. I felt lucky in thus getting an opportunity of a peep at the highest of the high. With gorgeous uniforms (though not so handsome as they were formerly) and orders, from the Golden Fleece down- ARISTOCRA TIC BEER-DRINKING 5 wards, old generals who served, and suffered too, in the war of 1S66, as well as young princelings in their teens, vied in the dance.

The Crown Prince Rudolph, who shortly afterwards met with his tragic death, was there. So was Count Kalnokv and many other well-known characters. Different people have different modes of living, but to the untravelled habitue of a London ball room (or rather supper-room) it might appear strange to find no champagne at such a ball ; and to see the dowagers and debutantes, the royalties and nobles, all eagerly imbibing the foaming beer, is enough indeed to make him raise his eyeglass. There is something more than mere chance in the way in which one often comes across friends. At this ball I happened to meet the only Austrian I ever knew, and as I had only seen him in London, and did not even know he was in Vienna, I little expected to meet him within a few days of my arriving in his country.

I went down one morning to the old palace to see what was to me an interesting ceremony — the changing of the guard. Although performed with great pomp, it is hardly so imposing a spectacle as we exhibit every day at St. James's. The Austrian uniforms of plain dark blue and soft caps, however serviceable, do not add much lustre to such a manœuvre. The troops, when at home in their splendid barracks, were busily employed digging shelter trenches in the snow ; capital practice when drill is out of the question, and plenty of ground available for the purpose without disturbing the gravel of the barrack square. War prophets are usually wrong, and General Keith Fraser, at that time our military attache in Vienna, was telling me how all the best authorities then declared that war with Russia was absolutely inevitable, and so soon as the snow cleared away operations would commence.

The snow has long since disappeared, so has the idea of a Russo- Austrian war ; but, like the snow, it will doubtless return in its due season. I then went on to Buda Pesth. This town, or rather Pesth, is a well-built city, with handsome edifices and embankments on the Danube. It is low and flat, but Buda, on the opposite side of the river, lies on a high lidge. The latter is picturesquely situated, with its citadel, palace, and cathedral rising in the centre. The two towns are connected by a magnificent suspension bridge, built by an English engineer. One soon realizes that one is in Hungary. The peasants, in their embroidered jackets with silver buttons, are speaking an unknown jargon, quite unlike any other European language ; and as you go along the streets, that excellent, well-timed music, now well known to Londoners, resounds from every cafe or hotel, where the swarthy performers are content with a few kreutzers dropped in the plate.

SUNFLOWERS AND SNOW 7 We leave again to rattle off by the comfortable, well - warmed Constantinople express, and dash through Hungary. The country is now all covered with snow, but I have been here under an almost tropical sun, to wander among the vineyards and maize-fields, and see the rows of æsthetic-looking sunflowers grown for their oil. Night comes on, and we pass the town of Temesvar, brilliantly illuminated by electricity, at that time the only town in Europe so lit. As we get more into the mountainous parts the cold increases ; the frost formed on the inside of the window falls off like powder, and remains as such on the cushions without melting. Once again we are alongside the ' blue ' Danube. and enter Roumania, passing the picturesque Iron Gate near Orsova, and undergoing the usual frontier examination by soldier-like officials.

One feels that one is beginning to get beyond the pale of what we consider civilization, when a big man enters the carriage enveloped in an elaborately-worked sheep skin coat and tall fur hat. But he would have been a more interesting companion had he not snored like a Carpathian bear. At last Bucharest is reached, and an unusual spectacle meets the eye on emerging from the station. Numbers of small two-horsed sledges with jangling bells dashing wildly about are the only vehicles, and in such a conveyance one takes one's seat. It is as good as a ride on a switchback to be driven along the narrow streets at a furious pace, whisking round corners, zigzagging in and out of the other rapid-going traffic, suddenly pulling up to avoid dashing into some other equipage, and then charging forward again with a yell from the driver and an ear-breaking crack of the whip.

Sometimes two or three other sledges abreast are met coming along full tilt. A sudden and disastrous collision seems inevitable. Then all shriek out wildly, your driver pulls over sharp to one side, the sledge scoots along broadside on, and the others fly past within an inch of one. But the roads, instead of being, as might be supposed, of hard, frozen ice (as the country roads are), are deep masses of dirty powdered snow. It is a marvel how the horses get through it without stumbling. Bucharest is not an imposing town. It is nothing more than an amalgamation of villages, consisting chiefly of small houses, mostly detached, with a very countrified air about them, and narrow, crooked lanes running in and out amongst the houses. Yet this is said to cover as great an area of ground as Paris !

The sightworthy objects are few and far between. The royal palace is nothing very out-of-the-way from an architectural point of view. The museum is, or was, new, and contained but few curiosities, except some stones found in Roumania with Latin inscriptions. And, by the way, the Roumanians look upon themselves as the modern representatives 'THE GAYEST TOWN IN EUROPE' 9 and descendants of the ancient Romans. On the bank-notes is a watered head of Cæsar, and the language is very near akin to Latin. Sir F. Lascelles, our Minister, seemed quite contented with his lot, though owning that what is to be seen in this capital is ' absolutely nothing.' I had a letter of introduction to a native of the place, and he showed me all he could, but frankly said : ' I am ashamed of my town.' I was on the whole not very sorry to leave what I have heard described as ' the gayest town in Europe ' after twenty-four hours, and to be sped along in a comfortable Pullman train in an hour and a half to the banks of the Danube at Giurgevo.

There is often much delay here in crossing the big river. In summer-time steamboats quickly convey people across, but when the ice begins floating down and accumulating in large packs boat traffic must cease, and the voyager must either 'wait till the ice floats by,' or till the river becomes compactly frozen over. The latter state was com pletely established when I was there, and all the passengers transferred themselves from the most civilized railway-train into the most primitive little sledges, two in each, with a couple of shaggy ponies and ferocious-looking, big-bearded drivers. The cold was intense, and not only all the trees about, but everything, from the rug of the ' carriage ' and the manes of the horses to the beard and eyelashes of the coachman, was thickly decked with white hoar-frost.

An icy mist hung over all. so that no extensive view was to be had. The sledges started off one by one in procession along the road, and after a couple of miles drove down on to the frozen Danube. Surrounded by mist, one could see nothing but the ice around — in parts smooth as glass, in others rough and snow-covered, with an occasional glimpse of other sledges in front. Following the not well-defined track, we passed several low swampy islands, and some large frozen in vessels, and it was often difficult to say whether we were on snow-covered ice or land. The tracks on the low-lying banks of the islands had become worn into curious undulations, in such a way that when driving along one could easily imagine, especially with the eyes shut, that one was in a boat in a seaway. After about a quarter of an hour we got across the river, and arrived at the railway-station of Rustchuk.

Numerous earthworks, more or less destroyed, reminded one of the importance this place had been during the Russo-Turkish War in 1877, but the town itself appeared uninteresting. all thickly enveloped in hard snow. We were now in Bulgaria, with its rough, innocent-looking, semi-Turkish, semi- Russian peasants. Russian is the universal language here, which seems curious, considering how small is the connection of this country with Russia. The railway journey through Bulgaria is not very BULGARIAN WILD-FOWL 11 interesting — at all events, for the first part of the route, where wide, open, undulating country is passed, with occasionally numbers of oak-trees still covered with brown dead leaves, which are said not to fall off till the spring. Little picturesque villages are seen nestling in the valleys, and distant glimpses of the Balkans gained.

This railway had lately been, and not for the first time, entirely snowed up for some weeks. These snow-drifts do not occur in the lar^e defiles, but in places where there are long cuttings not more than six to ten feet deep. These had become entirely full of snow, which had been dug out with immense labour, and now was to be seen piled up at the sides. Near Shumla the character of the country becomes more mountainous, and the snow is less. Very peculiar-looking hills rise on all sides, sloping up to near the tops, but crowned with an abrupt cliff of bright ruddy-yellow rock, looking like castle walls. Then we gradually get through the mountains, and pass through miles of swamp, the railway almost level with the water, and reeds growing up all around, in some places so high as to cut out all view from the carriage windows.

Passing along the edges of large lakes, the train starts up thousands of wild-fowl, which fly around till the air is quite darkened by them, and on we go, mile after mile, with more and more duck rising from the water. I expect a sportsman might find many a worse hunting ground than the neighbourhood of Gubedjie, and I AV SAVAGE ISLES AND SETTLED LANDS 12 longed to get out and stop there for a time. After skirting another large lake, which has the appear ance of an arm of the sea, but is really cut off from it by a low bank of land, we arrive at Varna, that port on the Black Sea so well known to our army in 1854. It is situated on the north side of the bay, on some small hills rising from the water's edge, but does not look an inviting town, being merely a collection of small houses with a few mosques.

The cemetery, with its numerous graves of English soldiers, is the chief object of interest. A boat takes us off to the steamer, which lies at anchor some way from the shore, and the journey on the Black Sea is commenced. It is curious to find that all the stewards on board are Italian, just as in the sleeping-car train all the attendants were French. Starting in the evening, the steamer is well in the Bosphorus by next morning, and the passengers all crowd on deck to see the succession of grand scenes. The Bosphorus is like a huge river running (and with a powerful stream) between high hills abruptly rising out of the water on both sides. Numbers of birds of all sorts fly about, but especially noticeable are the flocks of a certain small petrel, which con tinually fly rapidly along close above the water, in a hurried, impatient way, which gave rise to the idea of their being the ' souls of the departed.' Numerous fishing boats are dotted about ; and on shore many fine -looking houses rise one above CONTRABAND LOZENGES 13 another, becoming more plentiful as Constantinople is approached.

Descriptions have often been written of the grand sight presented by Constantinople and the Golden Horn when viewed from the Bosphorus. I am not quite sure that I was not just a little disappointed. One generally is so when one expects a grand sight. But to see the numerous white mosques with domes and minarets, and masses of houses interspersed with dark cypress-trees, rising in a gentle slope from the water's edge, cannot f"ul to please the eye. Around the entrance to the Golden Horn is a mass of shipping of all sorts, from large steamers to the native ' caiques.' On landing at Galata one has to go through a most amusing Custom-house examination ; at least, it amused me, being in no particular hurry and a happy state of mind, though doubtless very vexing to anyone pressed for time or out of sorts.

Large packages are easily passed over by the officials, but it is the small articles that arouse their curiosity. A box of lozenges with sealed paper cover was an object of great suspicion, and had to be torn open. My small camera could not be passed merely on my word that it was a photographic apparatus only. Of course, to open it meant spoiling all my best photographs of the Bosphorus, but the gentleman insisted on seeing the interior. A happy thought struck me. Instead of turning the knob and straightway opening the back, I asked to be supplied with a screw-driver, in order, as I explained, to take out all the small screws round the edge, and so open the apparatus. But after some hesitation he came to the conclusion that that would take too long ; so it was passed forthwith. Then, one would have thought that these officials must be well acquainted with the British tourist, and, as a consequence, with a Bradshaw's Guide.

Yet, to my surprise, they eagerly annexed this great work and passed it in to be examined by a literary expert, after which it was duly returned to me. One has often read of the different parts of Con stantinople, but it is difficult for a stranger to get a clear idea of it. Pera contains the hotels and European quarter ; Galata is the shipping part ; while Stamboul is the purely Turkish town, and Scutari a pleasant suburb. In Pera there are one or two tolerable though narrow streets, but Stamboul is chiefly a mass of irregular, crooked, dirty, badly paved, and often steep lanes. The mosque of St. Sophia is, of course, one of the first sights to see. Outside it is merely a vast pile of domes of various sizes, with minarets rising from among them. But the inside is truly stupend ous, the immense dome rising up 200 feet above the floor.

All around are great columns of various stones, flags, ostrich eggs, and lamps hanging from long chains, prayer-carpets spread over the floor, and many large Arabic devices. THE SUBLIME GATEWAY 15 Close by is the lofty marble gate of the old palace, which is hence called the Sublime Porte. Other mosques abound through the city, many of great interest, some being nearly as large as St. Sophia. There are as many mosques in Constan tinople as there are days in the year. At certain hours of the day ' muezzins ' will appear at the little galleries high up on the slender minarets, and, in a loud singing voice, call the faithful to prayer. Then there are numerous other sights. The tombs of the Sultans ; the museum of the Janis saries, a kind of local Madame Tussaud's ; the cemeteries, with their curious turbaned and be-fezzed tombstones — all have to be visited.

Rides must be taken round the huge old city walls, with their massive gate-towers, and money has to be spent in the Oriental bazaars. The far-famed dogs of Constantinople, to be seen by the dozen in every street, and who won't get out of your way, are fat, sleepy animals with thick reddish hair, very unlike the half-starved mangy curs who slink away from you in Cairo ancl other Eastern places. I felt that it was but my duty whilst here to have a real Turkish bath. However, I was much disappointed, for, although I went to what was recom mended as the best, I thought it was not half so com fortable, not half so Oriental, as those I had been to in England. The place was like a succession of lofty cellars, with numerous creeping things on the walls, and here one was pulled about by some cheeky boys ; even the sitting out afterwards, to drink Turkish coffee and vainly suck away at the hubble-bubble, was by no means my idea of Oriental luxuriousness.

The British Embassy is a fine palatial building, pleasantly situated on the rising ground of Pera. Sir W. White (also gone, alas !) entertained us to a curiously international luncheon, where the general conversation was carried on alternately in English, French, and German. There is a very good club for — I was going to say Europeans, but should say for foreigners ; in fact, I believe there are two, though I only went to the Cercle d'Orient. Plenty of gaiety seems to go on. We went to an amusing bal masque in the Theatre Francaise, which might have been in Paris or anywhere. At night the ladies are mostly conveyed in sedan chairs — not a bad idea for getting about the narrow, dirty streets. On leaving Constantinople the steamer at once enters the Sea of Marmora, and after some ten hours' steam gets into the Dardanelles.

This channel is not so picturesque as the Bosphorus, the shores being for the most part low open downs. Among the distant hills to the south is pointed out the site of Troy, conjuring up visions quite out of keeping with the surroundings. After some hours the town of Dardanelles, on the Asiatic side, is reached. It SMYRNA 17 is situated just at the narrowest part of the straits, less than a mile wide, known as the Hellespont, where Xerxes, and later Alexander, crossed their armies by a bridge of boats. On either side numerous forts are to be seen, both ancient and modern, the latter being well armed with heavy guns. We soon get out into the Ægean Sea, and pass ing Besika Bay and numerous islands, arrive at Mitylene. The town is very picturesque. A fine old castle crowns a small hill on the peninsula which forms the harbour, and splendid wooded hills rise abruptly all round, with houses dotted about them.

As the shades of evening fall the steamer gets under way, and by early next morning arrives at Smyrna. The Bay of Smyrna is certainly grandly pictur esque — a large sheet of water surrounded by great rugged mountains towering up into the storm-clouds. The town is situated on a flat piece of land almost level with the water, but immediately behind it rises a hill, Mount Pagus, surmounted by the ruins of an old castle, the view from which, of the bay in front and the plains of Magnesia stretching out behind, well repays a visit — as a guide-book would say. The quays form fine wide esplanades, but the back streets are narrow and dirty and thoroughly Eastern, though the houses generally have an Italian look, being painted yellow or pink, with green Venetian shutters and tiled roofs. The population is very mixed — Jews, Armenians, Turks, and Greeks loung ing about with Englishmen and Frenchmen.

The bazaars are most tempting, being full of quaint curios and antiquities. Luckily, Smyrna is not yet infested with sightseers, and so one goes about rather as an object of curiosity. I had no less than three self-appointed guides in my retinue, each one trying his best to explain everything. I made a great bargain with one 'vendor of curios,' after which one of my guides did me the compliment to say, ' You are yet young ! but you have your eyes open !' Again boarding the steamer, we then make for Greece, ancl land at the Piræus, the port of Athens. It is a small town situated on the bay, with several fortifications on the hills around. In twenty minutes the train runs up to Athens over a flat open plain. The country has a very tropical look, considering that it is in Europe, almost the only large plants being cacti and aloes.