LXXXIX. THE ANDAMAN AND NICOBAR ISLANDS…

LXXXIX. THE ANDAMAN AND NICOBAR ISLANDS

POSITION OF THE ANDAMAN ISLANDS -- ORIGIN OF THE NATIVES -- THEIR ROVING HABITS AND LACK OF CLOTHING -- THEIR HATRED OF STRANGERS -- THE NATIVES AND THE STEAMER -- APPEARANCE OF THE WOMEN -- THE ENORMOUS BOW AND SKILL OF THE MINCOPIE ARCHERS -- VARIOUS MODES OF FISHING -- EXCELLENCE OF THEIR CANOES, AND MODE OF MAKING THEM -- THE LONG PADDLES -- THE SHIP’S CREW BEATEN BY THE MINCOPIE CANOE MEN -- CANNIBALISM NOT PRACTISED IN THE ANDAMAN ISLANDS -- INGENIOUS FIREPLACES AND METHOD OF COOKING -- WANT OF ARCHITECTURAL SKILL -- EDUCATION OF THE CHILDREN, AND THEIR GAMES -- POWERS OF SWIMMING -- MATRIMONIAL ARRANGEMENTS -- DEATH AND BURIAL -- THE NICOBAR ISLANDS -- APPEARANCE AND COSTUME OF THE INHABITANTS -- THE CROSS-BOW AND ITS ARROW -- A PRIMITIVE HAMMOCK -- TOMBS IN THE NICOBAR ISLANDS.

We will now pass to the westward, and travel gradually through the wonderful group of islands which extends almost from Asia to America, and which is known by the general title of Polynesia. One or two of them will have to be omitted for the present, so as not to break the continuity of races, but will be described before we pass upward through America, from Tierra del Fuego to the Esquimaux.

* * * * *

In the Bay of Bengal, and not much to the eastward of India, is seen a group of islands, named the Andamans. They are of considerable length, but very narrow, seldom exceeding twenty miles in breadth, and are arranged very much after the fashion of the New Zealand islands, though on a smaller scale. These islands exhibit a phenomenon almost unparalleled in the history of the human race.

They lie close to India, a country in which a high state of civilization has been reached many centuries ago. They are almost in the middle of the track which is traversed by multitudes of ships, and yet their inhabitants are sunk in the deepest depths of savage degradation. Even the regular visits made by the Chinese vessels to the Andaman coasts, for the purpose of procuring the trepang, have had not the least effect upon them; and they afford perhaps the most perfect example of savage life which the surface of the earth can show.

The origin of the Andamaners is a problem to anthropologists. They are small in stature, the men being on an average but little above five feet in height, and the women being still smaller. They are very dark, but have scarcely anything except their color in common with the negro. They have neither the huge projecting jaws and cavernous mouth of the true negro, nor his curiously elongated heel; and though they are so small as almost to merit the name of pigmies, they are perfectly well formed. The hair, when it is allowed to grow, is seen to be thick and bushy, and resembles that of the Papuans; and it is the opinion of many competent judges that the Andamaners are the aborigines of the Papuan race, who have never permitted contact with strangers, and have preserved their own individuality intact.

In habits they are absolutely savage, their arts being limited to the manufacture of canoes and weapons, architecture and agriculture being equally unknown. They possess one of the chief characteristics of savage life in their roving disposition, never remaining long in one spot, a stay of three or four days being considered a long visit to any place. They have no laws, no religion, and no tribal distinctions. Marriage, as we understand the word, is unknown to them; and there seems to be few restrictions of consanguinity, a mother and her daughter being sometimes the wives of the same husband.

Clothing is entirely unknown to them; and when captives have been taken, they have always found clothes to be an incumbrance to them, though they were pleased with gaudy handkerchiefs tied round their heads. The only covering which they care for is one which they share in common with many of the pachydermatous animals, and employ for the same purpose. It is nothing more than a layer of mud, with which the natives plaster themselves in the morning and evening, in order to defend themselves from the attacks of the mosquitoes, sandflies, and other insect plagues.

Until the last few years our knowledge of the Andamaners has been almost nil, in consequence of their hatred of strangers, and the determined opposition which they offer to any foreigners landing on their shores. The very presence of a boat or a ship seems to excite them to frenzy. In Captain Mouatt’s valuable account of these islands is an animated description of a scene which occurred off the coast.

The steamer, on rounding a point, came suddenly upon two groups of savages, who were at first paralyzed by fear at the sudden apparition of the unknown object, with its columns of white steam roaring from the escape-pipe, its smoke, and its plashing paddles. In a few moments they recovered from their surprise, and raised a simultaneous shout of defiance. Two boats’ crews were sent ashore, to the extreme anger of the Mincopies.

“A peculiar natural phenomenon rendered the scene still more striking and impressive as the interval between the two parties, the savage and the civilized, was gradually diminished by the onward motion of the boats. The spray as it rose in clouds from the breakers dashing on the shore, reflecting the rays of the declining sun, magnified considerably the slight figures of the natives, making massive and formidable giants of men who were in reality little more than sable dwarfs. As the cutters neared that part of the shore where they had stationed themselves, and they clearly perceived that we were making preparations to land, their excitement was such that they appeared as if they had suddenly become frantic.

“They seemed to lose that restraint and control which it is the pride of the savage to exhibit in time of danger, and jumped and yelled like so many demons let loose from the bottomless pit, or as if there had been a Bedlam in that locality, and they the most unmanageable of its frantic inmates. Their manner was that of men determined and formidable in the midst of all their excitement. They brandished their bows in our direction; they menaced us with their arrows, said by common report--so often a liar--to be poisoned; exhibiting by every possible contortion of savage pantomime their hostile determination. To use a common vulgar expression of some of the seamen, they seemed to have made up their minds to ‘chaw us all up.’...

“The spear which he flourished incessantly was terminated by a bright, flat, pointed head, which gleamed with flashes of light, as, circling rapidly in the air, it reflected the rays of the sun. Sometimes he would hold it aloft, poising it in his uplifted hand, as if with the intention of hurling it with unerring and deadly aim at the first who dared to approach the shore of his native island. At length, in a paroxysm of well-acted fury, he dashed boldly into the water, boiling and seething round him as it broke in great billows on the beach, and on the rocks by which it was defended, and, fixing an arrow in his bow, he shot it off in the direction of the steamer, as if that were the arch enemy that had provoked his bellicose fury.”

The second party of natives, who turned out to be females, were as frightened as their male friends were angry. After several failures in launching a canoe, they rushed in a body to the jungle and hid themselves from the strangers. They exhibited the usual characteristics of the people, a basket for fish doing duty for clothes, and a patch of red ochre on their heads taking the place of hair. So repulsive were they in their appearance, that the sailors declined to leave mirrors on the shore as presents for them, saying that such hideous creatures ought not to be allowed to look at their own features.

The weapons with which the Mincopie men threatened the strangers are really formidable, and before very long the exploring party learned to hold them in great respect. The bows are sometimes six feet long and enormously powerful,--so powerful in fact that the strongest sailors tried in vain to bend the weapons which the pigmy Mincopies handled with such skilful ease.

The shape of the bow is very peculiar. Instead of being nearly cylindrical, largest in the middle and tapering regularly to each end, it is nearly flat except at the handle, on either side of which it becomes very broad. In fact, a good idea of it may be taken from a flattened hour-glass, the channel in the middle being the handle.

The force and accuracy with which these tiny men can shoot are really wonderful. They very seldom fail to hit their mark at any reasonable distance, and can make tolerably sure of a man at sixty or seventy yards, so that the Mincopie bow is really a far better weapon than the old “Brown Bess” musket ever was. One arrow that was shot at a boat’s crew at a distance of sixty yards struck a hickory oar, and knocked off a piece of wood as large as a man’s hand.

These arrows are very neatly made. They are about three feet in length, and are made of a reed by way of shaft, to the end of which is fastened a piece of hard wood in order to give weight. Upon this tip is fixed the head, which is usually the barbed tail bone of the sting-ray, and sometimes, though not always, poisoned. Should this terrible weapon enter the body, it cannot be removed without a severe operation, the sharp brittle barbs being apt to snap off and remain in the wound if any force be used in extracting the arrow.

Their consummate skill in the use of the bow is obtained by constant practice from earliest infancy. As is the assagai to the Kaffir, the boomerang to the Australian, and the lasso to the Gaucho, so is the bow to the Andamaner. The first plaything that a Mincopie boy sees is a miniature bow made for him by his father, and, as he advances in age, bows of progressive strength are placed in his hands. Consequently, he is so familiarized with the weapon that, by the time he is of full age, the pigmy Andamaner draws with graceful ease a bow which seems made for a giant.

Numbers of the toy bows and arrows may be seen scattered about an encampment if the natives are forced to leave it in a hurry, and their various sizes show the ages of the children to whom they belonged. The education of the Mincopie archer is in fact almost precisely like that of the old English bowmen, who, from constant practice in the art, and being trained from childhood in the use of the bow, obtained such a mastery of the weapon as made them the terror of Europe.

Being such skilful archers, they trust almost entirely to the bow and arrow, caring little for any other weapon. Even the harpoon, with which they catch the larger fish, is shot from the powerful bow. It is, in fact, a very large arrow, with a moveable head. This head fits loosely into a hole at the end of the arrow, and is secured to the shaft by a thong. It is a very remarkable fact that the bow and harpoon arrow of the Mincopies are almost exactly like those which are used by the inhabitants of Vancouver’s Island. They are twice as large, but in shape almost identical, as will be seen when we come to the North of America.

When they use the harpoon, a long and elastic cord is attached to it, one end of which is retained by the archer. The cord is made from a fibre which has the useful property of hardening by being soaked in water. For killing the fish when held with the harpoon the Mincopies use smaller arrows, without barbs or movable heads.

The Mincopies are very expert fishermen, and use nets which are made from the same fibre that has been mentioned. For small fish they make the nets of rather thin but very tough string, but for turtle and large fish they make nets of cord as thick as a man’s finger. One side of the net is held to the bed of the sea by heavy stones laid on it, and the other is upheld by floats.

The women search for molluscs, a business which occupies a considerable part of their time. They always carry neat baskets, in which to put the results of their industry, and each woman has generally a small net fixed to a handle, like that which is used by butterfly collectors.

In nothing do the Andamaners show their superior skill more than in canoe making. Their bows and arrows are, as we have seen, good specimens of savage manufacture, but in the making and management of canoes they are simply unapproachable, even though their tools are of the rudest possible description.

Furnished merely with a simple adze made of a stone fixed into a handle, the Mincopie boat maker searches the forest for a suitable tree, and after a week or ten days succeeds in bringing it to the ground. The rest of the process is so well described by Captain Mouatt, that it must be given in his own words.

“The next operation is to round the trunk, a process which they perform with remarkable dexterity, it being almost impossible to conceive how, with the imperfect instruments at their command, they execute their work with so much skill and neatness. Practice, however, must render them, as well as others, perfect; and hence it is that in a short time the rough and shapeless trunk begins to assume form and proportions; and, when the process is finished, exhibits a finish and perfection that even a Chinese carpenter, by far the most handy and ingenious of human ‘chips,’ would regard with a feeling of envy, as a work of dexterity which it would be vain for him to attempt to imitate.

“As soon as the trunk has been rounded, they commence the operation of cutting and chipping at it externally, until eventually the outlines of the elegant canoe begin to appear from the shapeless mass of the knotted trunk, just as, by the skill of the statuary, the beautiful figure gradually assumes its fair proportions in the block of marble. The shape externally is generally finished with great care and elaboration before they proceed to hollow it internally, the next process to which they direct their attention. The interior is excavated in the same perfect and business-like manner, until the shell is no thicker than the side of a deal bonnet-box, although it still preserves that strength which would enable it to resist successfully the utmost force and violence of the waves, should it even be assailed by a storm--a thing not at all probable, as, unless carried out to sea by some accident, it is rare that the Andamaners venture far from the shore.

“The buoyancy of these boats, when they are well constructed and carefully finished, is remarkable. They float lightly on the top of the waves, and, unless they have received some injury, it is considered almost impossible to sink them. We sometimes made the attempt, but never succeeded. We fired at them repeatedly when at Port Mouatt--which may be regarded as a sort of Andaman Pembroke-yard, where a fleet of Mincopie men-of-war were lying in every stage of preparation--but they still floated with as great ease and buoyancy as ever. They would make excellent life-boats, such, we believe, as have never yet been constructed by any of our most experienced boat-builders.”

Near shore the boatmen paddle about with perfect ease in these fragile vessels, though an European can hardly proceed twenty yards without being upset. When they go further to sea they add a light outrigger to one side of the canoe, and then venture forty or fifty miles from land. They always, in such cases, take fire with them, which has the double advantage of attracting the fish at night, and of cooking them when taken. Sometimes a number of boats will remain all night at sea, and the effect of their fires and torches is very picturesque when seen from the land.

The outrigger is certainly a new invention. The earlier travellers, who were always minute enough in their accounts, did not mention the outrigger, and, as far as can be seen, the idea has been borrowed from some Cingalese canoe which had got into a current and been drifted toward the island.

The paddles are rather peculiar in their form, and, apparently, very ineffective, looking something like long spoons with flattened bowls, or, on a smaller scale, the “peels” with which bakers take bread out of their ovens. The women are the paddle makers, and the implements vary from three to four feet long. They are cut from a very hard wood, and the work of making them is necessarily laborious.

Imperfect as the canoe and paddles seem to be, they are in fact absolute marvels of efficiency. The tiny Mincopies, furnished with these simple paddles, and seated in a canoe cut by themselves out of a tree trunk, can beat with ease our best oarsmen. Captain Mouatt got up several races between the Mincopies and his own prize crew in their favorite boat. In point of fact there was never any race at all, the Andamaners having it all their own way, and winning as they liked. The powerful, sweeping stroke of the man-of-war’s crew was beautiful to see, but the little Mincopies shot through, or rather over, the water with such speed that the sailors were hopelessly beaten, although they strained themselves so much that they felt the results of their exertions for some time afterward.

Slight, and almost as active as monkeys, the Mincopies ascend the tallest trees with the like agility, applying the soles of their feet and the palms of their hands to the trunk, and literally running up them. When they reach the branches, they traverse them with as much ease and security as if they were on firm land. Indeed, their powers of tree climbing seem to be equal to those of the inhabitants of Dourga Strait, of whom an account will presently be given.

We now come to a question which has often been agitated, namely, the asserted cannibalism of the Andamaners.

It is a question that every observant reader would be sure to ask himself, as the Andamaners are just such a savage race as might be expected to feed habitually on human bodies. Yet, though we find the comparatively civilized New Zealander sharing with the savage New Caledonian the habit of eating human flesh, the Mincopie, who is infinitely below the New Zealander, and certainly not above the New Caledonian, is free from that revolting practice. He undoubtedly has been known to eat human flesh, but only when urged by extreme hunger to eat the flesh of man or to die; and in so doing he has but set an example which has been followed by members of the most civilized countries.

That they are fierce and cruel toward foreigners is true enough, and it is also true that the bodies of those whom they have killed have been found frightfully mutilated, the flesh being almost pounded from the bones by the blows which have been showered upon the senseless clay in the blind fury of the savage. But no attempt has been made to remove any part of the body, and it was evident that the victors had not even entertained the idea of eating it.

The food of the Andamaners is tolerably varied, and is prepared in a very simple and ingenious oven. A large tree is selected for this purpose, and fire is applied to it at the bottom, so that by degrees a large hole is burned in it, the charred wood being scraped away so as to form eventually a large hole. This is the Mincopie oven, and at the bottom a heap of ashes, about three feet in depth, is always left. The fire smoulders away gradually among the ashes, and never entirely goes out; so that whenever a native wishes to cook his pig, turtle, or fish, he has only to blow up the smouldering embers, and in a few moments he has fire sufficient for his purposes.

These oven-trees are very carefully preserved, the natives never cutting them down, and always managing to prevent them from being entirely burned through. In illustration No. 2, on the 893d page, one of these trees is shown, with the fire burning in the hollow, and the natives sitting round it. The Mincopies always contrive to have the opening of the oven in such a direction that the rain cannot get into it and put out the fire.

Pigs have been mentioned as forming part of the Andamaners’ food. These pigs are small and black, with spare, hard bristles, that look like pieces of wire. They are wonderfully active, and, according to Captain Mouatt, “are the most curious and mischievous little animals in creation. They have a leer that makes them look like so many Mephistopheles, who have chosen to assume that peculiar form, in many respects a very appropriate one, for, if they are not so many little devils, they are certainly possessed by them.

“At the time of our visit to the Cinque Islands, we turned out a dozen of them, and, our unwonted appearance filling them with alarm, they ran off from us with the velocity of an Indian express train, squeaking like mad. We set off and had a regular hunt after them--a hunt that beats to chalks the most exciting scene of pig-sticking ever seen in Bengal. After discharging their rifles, some of the hunters would probably find the pigs between their legs, making them measure their length on the sand. The falls were made with considerable violence, though they were not dangerous, for they only excited our risible faculties; and as each one came down he was greeted with a loud and hearty burst of laughter, as a sort of congratulation to him in his misfortune.”

The architecture of the Andamaners is very primitive. Four posts are stuck in the ground in the form of a square, and the builder is quite indifferent as to their straightness. Two of them are much longer than the others, so that when they are connected by sticks, a sloping roof is formed. Palm leaves are then placed upon them, one lying over the other in tile fashion, so that they form a protection from perpendicularly falling rain. A number of these huts are generally erected in a circle, in some cleared space in the forest, which is sheltered by large trees, and within a convenient distance of water. One or two of these simple houses may be seen in the illustration.

Primitive as are these huts, some attempt is made at ornamenting them, the decorations being characteristically the trophies of the chase. Skulls of pigs and turtles, bundles of fish-bones, and similar articles are painted with stripes of red ochre, and hung to the roofs off the huts. Ochre painting, indeed, seems to be the only idea that the Andamaners have of ornament, if perhaps we except a string which the dandies tie round the waist, having a piece of bone or other glittering article hanging from it.

This ochre is in great request among the Mincopies, the women being especially fond of it by way of a decoration of their heads. As has already been mentioned, they shave the head completely, using, instead of a razor, a piece of flint chipped very thin, and having a sharp edge. They are wonderfully adroit at making these primitive knives, which are exactly like those of the stone age. The hair having been scraped off, a tolerably thick plastering of red ochre is rubbed on the head, and the toilet of a Mincopie belle is complete.

Not only is the ochre used for external application, but it is administered internally. What is good for the outside, the Mincopie logically thinks will be equally good for the inside. So, when he feels ill, he makes a sort of bolus of red ochre and turtle oil, swallows it, and thinks that he has cured himself. Wounds are dressed by binding certain leaves upon them, and in many cases of internal pains, bruises, or swellings, scarification is freely used. Certain individuals enjoy a sort of reputation for success in the treatment of disease, and are much honored by the less skilful.

It has already been mentioned that marriage is nothing more than taking a female slave.

When a wife becomes a mother, the only treatment which she receives is, that after the birth of her child she is plentifully rubbed with the red ochre and turtle oil, and is expected to follow her usual occupations on the next day. The young child is soused with cold water, poured out of one of the great bamboo vessels which the Mincopies use, and is dried by rubbing with the hand. Like its parent, the child wears no clothing; but if the party should be on their travels, and rain begin to fall, the mother pulls a few leaves from the next tree, ties them together with a fibre of rattan, and fastens them on the body of the child. This is the only clothing which an Andamaner ever wears.

Children are never weaned, but continue to take their childish nourishment until the mother is absolutely incapable of affording it. Both parents redeem much of their savage nature by their affection for their children, the father being quite as loving a parent as the mother--a trait which is often absent among savage tribes. The children reciprocate the affection, so that, in spite of the absence of any definite home, there is a domestic character about the family which could scarcely have been expected from such a race.

It has been already mentioned that the boys amuse themselves chiefly with small bows and arrows, having these toys of a continually increasing size to suit their growth. The girls are fond of disporting themselves by the sea-shore, and building sand houses for the waves to knock down, precisely as is done by the civilized children of Europe and America. Their great amusement is to build an enclosure with walls of sand, and to sit in it as if it were a house of their own until the rising tide washes away the frail walls. Both sexes are fond of swimming, and as soon as they can walk the little black children are seen running into and out of the water, and, if they can pick some sheltered spot free from waves, they dive and swim like so many ducks. A Hindoo, named Pooteeah, who was taken prisoner by the Mincopies, and his life spared for some reason or other, states that they are such excellent swimmers that several of them will dive together among the rocks, search for fish in the crevices, and bring their struggling captives to shore. This statement was discredited by those to whom it was made, as were several other of his accounts. As, however, subsequent observations showed that he was right in many of the statements which were at first disbelieved, it is possible that he was right in this case also.

This man, by the way, was furnished with two wives, mother and daughter, and, as he was above the ordinary size, Captain Mouatt expresses some curiosity as to the appearance of the progeny. He made his escape from the island before the birth of a child that one of his wives was expecting, and, as the Mincopie mothers are remarkable for their affection toward their children, it is likely that the little half-caste was allowed to live, and that a new element may thus be introduced into the race.

They have more than once made use of their swimming powers in escaping from captivity. Several instances have been known where Andamaners have been kept prisoners on board ship, and have seemed tolerably reconciled to their lot. As soon, however, as the ship neared land, they contrived to escape for a moment from the eye of the sentry, slipped overboard, and swam to land. They always dived as soon as they struck the water, swam as far as they could without rising to the surface, and then, after taking a single respiration, dived again, and so swam the greater part of the distance under water. This mode of swimming was doubtless practised by them when trying to escape from the arrows of an unfriendly party.

In Captain Syme’s “Embassy to Ava” there is a curious account of two young Mincopie girls who had been decoyed on board the ship. They were treated very kindly, and soon learned that no harm would be done to them. “They suffered clothes to be put on, but took them off again as soon as opportunity offered, and threw them away as useless encumbrances. When their fears were over, they became cheerful, chattered with freedom, and were inexpressibly diverted at the sight of their own persons in a mirror.

“They were fond of singing, sometimes in a melancholy recitative, at others in a lively key; and often danced about the deck with great agility, slapping the lower part of their bodies with the back of their heels. Wine and spirituous liquors were disagreeable to them; no food seemed so palatable as fish, rice, and sugar. In a few weeks, having recovered strength and become fat, from the more than half-famished state in which they were brought on board, they began to think confinement irksome, and longed to regain their native freedom.

“In the middle of the night, when all but the watchman were asleep, they passed in silence into the Captain’s cabin, jumped out of the stern windows into the sea, and swam to an island half a mile distant, where it was in vain to pursue them, had there been any such intention; but the object was to retain them by kindness, and not by compulsion, an attempt that has failed on every trial. Hunger may (and these instances are rare) induce them to put themselves into the power of strangers; but the moment that their want is satisfied nothing short of coercion can prevent them from returning to a way of life more congenial to their savage nature.”

Like many other savage races, the Mincopies make a kind of festivity on each new moon; and as soon as the thin crescent appears they salute it after their odd fashion, and get up a dance. Their dances are rather grotesque, each performer jumping up and down, and kicking himself violently with the sole of his foot, so as to produce a smart slapping sound. This is the dance which is mentioned in the preceding account of the two captives.

When a Mincopie dies, he is buried in a very simple manner. No lamentations are made at the time; but the body is tied in a sitting position, with the head on the knees, much after the fashion employed among the Bechuanas, and described on page 300. It is then buried, and allowed to decay, when the remains are dug up, and the bones distributed among the relatives. The skull is the right of the widow, who ties it to a cord and hangs it round her neck, where it remains for the rest of her life. This outward observance is, however, all that is required of her, and is the only way in which she troubles herself to be faithful to the memory of her dead husband. It is rather strange that, though the Andamaners make no lamentations on the death of a relative, they do not altogether dispense with these expressions of sorrow, but postpone them to the exhumation and distribution of the relics, when each one who gets a bone howls over it for some time in honor of the dead.

THE NICOBAR ISLANDS.

Immediately to the south of the Andaman Islands, and barely thirty miles distant, lie the NICOBAR ISLANDS. The group consists of nine tolerably large islands, and several of much smaller size. One of the large islands, called Great Nicobar, is twenty miles long by eight wide, while Little Nicobar is barely half these dimensions.

The islands are singularly fertile, and abound in various kinds of vegetation, especially in the cocoa-nut palm, not a specimen of which is to be found in the Andaman Islands. This curious fact is accounted for by the character of the Andamaners, who have an almost superstitious love for the cocoa-nut. If one of the nuts be washed ashore, it is always broken up and eaten; and if perchance one of the fruit happens to escape the sharp eyes of the natives and to germinate, its green feathery shoots are sure to attract the attention of the first Mincopie who passes in that direction. A similar barrier to the production of the cocoa-nut is found on the coast of Australia.

Although so close to the Andaman Islands, the inhabitants of Nicobar are very unlike the Mincopies, being a fine tall race, and of a copper rather than a black hue. Unlike the Mincopies, the men are very fat, especially about the breast, so that at a little distance they might easily be mistaken for women. Moreover, they wear the hair long, and parted in the middle, which to the eyes of a modern European, gives them a peculiar effeminate look. They wear neither beard nor moustache, their features are ugly, and their large mouths are stained a dark red from the juice of the betel-nut, which they are continually chewing.

There is one distinction, however, which is apparent at a considerable distance. In lieu of clothes, the men wear a strip of cloth, never more than two inches wide. This is passed round the waist, under the legs in front, and tucked through itself behind, the end being left as long as possible. The men place great value on the length of this tail, and he is the best dressed man who wears it the longest. Some of the wealthy among them have the tail dragging along the ground for several feet, like an European lady’s train. If possible, this tail is made of blue cloth, an article that is held in very high estimation by the natives.

The women are quite as ill-favored as the men, and increase their natural ugliness by shaving off all their hair. They do not wear tails like the men, but have a plaited grass girdle, from which depends a soft fibrous fringe about a foot in depth.

The character of the Nicobarians is far gentler than that of the Mincopies, the latter being proverbially fierce and cruel toward strangers, and the former soon learning to welcome foreigners when they have made up their minds that no harm is intended them. Captain Campbell, to whom I am indebted for most of the information respecting these natives, found them very agreeable and hospitable, ready to barter, and always welcoming him to their houses.

After a short time, even the women and children, who had at first been scrupulously concealed, after the manner of savages, came boldly forward, and were as hospitable as the men. On one occasion, while paying a visit to one of their huts, Captain Campbell tried to make friends with one of the children, all of whom were terribly frightened at the white face of their visitor. Finding that no response was made to his advances, he pulled the child from his hiding-place, and held him for a little time, in spite of his struggles. The mother made no opposition, but laughed heartily at the skirmish, evidently feeling that no harm was intended toward her little one.

The native weapons of the Nicobarians are very curious. As the people are not of a warlike character like the Mincopies, their weapons are used almost exclusively for killing game. The most formidable is a tolerably large spear headed with iron, which is used for killing hogs, and is thrown like the assagai of Southern Africa. They have also a smaller javelin for fish-killing, and a number of many-pointed hand-spears for the same purpose. The most remarkable of their weapons is a cross-bow, which is almost exactly like that of the Fan tribe of Africa. It is not very powerful, and only propels a small arrow. Its chief use is in killing birds.

Besides these weapons, every man carries a cutlass-blade from which the hilt has been removed, and a handle roughly made by wrapping some six inches of the butt with cocoa-nut fibre. It is intended not so much as a weapon as a tool, and with it the natives cut down trees, carve their canoes, and perform similar operations.

The architecture of the Nicobarians is infinitely superior to that of the Mincopies, and is precisely similar in character to that which is found among the inhabitants of New Guinea, the home of the Papuan race.

The native architect begins by fixing a number of posts in the ground, and erecting on them a platform of split bamboo. Over this platform he builds a roof shaped exactly like a beehive, and his house is then complete. The bamboo platform is the floor of the hut, and, being elastic as well as firm, serves also for a bed. To this hut the native ascends by a primitive sort of ladder, and passes into the chamber through a hole cut in the floor. The sides of the hut are adorned with the skulls of hogs, intermixed with spears, knives, bows, and arrows. The huts are kept peculiarly neat and clean.

A rather remarkable use is made of the hut. The open space between the floor and the ground is far too valuable not to be utilized, as it affords a cool and airy shelter from the sunbeams. Under this floor is suspended a primitive sort of hammock, which is a board about six feet in length, slung by ropes. In, or rather on, this very uncomfortable hammock the Nicobarian likes to lounge away his time, dozing throughout the hot hours of the day, sipping palm wine at intervals, and smoking without cessation. In fact, we seem to have got again among the inhabitants of Western Africa, so similar is the character of the Nicobarian to that of the negro. The “Scene in the Nicobar Islands,” represented on the 903d page, shows the personal appearance of the Nicobarians and their style of architecture.

The canoes of the Nicobarians are not so beautifully formed as those of the Mincopies, but are constructed on the same principle, being hollowed out of the trunks of trees, and supported by a slight outrigger. They have a very high and ornamental prow, and are propelled by short paddles. They are very light, and, when properly manned, skim over the water at an astonishing pace. Some of them are nearly sixty feet in length, while others are barely six or seven feet long, and only intended for one person.

The mode of burial is not in the least like that which is employed among the Mincopies. When a man dies, the body is placed in a coffin, which is generally made from a canoe. The canoe is cut in half, the body being laid in one moiety, and covered with the other half. In order to supply the deceased with provisions for his journey to the spirit-land, a pig is killed and placed in the coffin, together with a supply of yams and cocoa-nuts. In case he should be attacked on his journey, a quantity of weapons, such as bows, spears, and cutlasses, are placed in the coffin.

The body is buried in the middle of the village, and the spot marked by a stick, to which is attached a small streamer. After some time, when the body has been consumed by the earth, the coffin is dug up again. The deceased being now supposed to have completed his journey to his spirit-home, his bones are thrown into the bush, and the cutlasses and other weapons distributed among his relatives.

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XC. NEW GUINEA

THE HOME OF THE PAPUAN RACE -- DISTINGUISHING MARKS OF THE RACE -- DERIVATION OF THE NAME -- GENERAL CHARACTER OF THE PAPUANS -- THE SIGN OF PEACE -- AN UNFORTUNATE MISUNDERSTANDING -- DRESS AND ORNAMENTS OF THE TRIBES OF DOURGA STRAIT -- THEIR AGILITY AMONG THE TREES -- THE OUTANATA TRIBES -- TATTOOING AND ORNAMENTS -- ELABORATE ARCHITECTURE -- WEAPONS -- THE DUST SIGNALS AND THEIR MEANING -- THEIR UNSUSPICIOUS NATURE -- ABRAUW, THE CHIEF.

We now come to the very home and centre of the Papuan race.

New Guinea is a very large island, fourteen hundred miles in length, and, as far as has been ascertained, containing some two hundred thousand geographical square miles. It is separated from Australia only by Torres Strait, and, as we have seen, a certain amount of intercourse has taken place between the Papuans of the south of New Guinea and the natives who inhabit the north of Australia. Fertile in the vegetable kingdom, it possesses one or two animals which have the greatest interest for the naturalist, such as the tree-kangaroo, the crowned pigeon, and the bird of paradise. It is equally interesting to the ethnologist as being the home of the Papuan race.

Taken as a race, they are very fine examples of savage humanity, tall, well-shaped, and powerful. They are remarkable for two physical peculiarities. The one is a roughness of the skin, and the other is the growth of the hair. The reader may remember that some of the tribes of Southern Africa have the hair of the head growing in regular tufts or patches, each about the size of a pea.

It is a remarkable fact that, in the Papuan race, the hair grows in similar patches, but, instead of being short like that of the South African, it grows to a considerable length, sometimes measuring eighteen inches from root to tip. The Papuans are very proud of this natural ornament, and therefore will seldom cut it off; but as, if left untrained, it would fall over the eyes, they have various modes of dressing it, but in most cases manage to make it stand out at right angles from the head. Sometimes they take the hair of each patch separately and screw it up into a ringlet. Sometimes they tease out all the hairs with a wooden comb of four or five prongs, and, as the hair is very coarse and stiff, it is soon induced to assume a mop-like shape, and to increase the apparent size of the head to an enormous extent.

Indeed, the word Papua is derived from this peculiarity of the hair. In the Malay language, the word which signifies “crisped” is pua-pua, which is easily contracted into pa-pua. Even the hair of the face grows in similar patches, and so does that on the breast of the man, and in the latter case the tufts are much further apart than on the head or face.

The color of the Papuans is a very dark chocolate, sometimes inclining to black, but having nothing in common with the deep shining black of the negro. Their features are large and tolerably well made, though the nose is very broad at the wings, and the lips wide. The nose, however, is not flat like that of the negro, but is prominent, rather arched, and descends so low that when seen in front the tip nearly reaches the upper lip. The natives seem to be perfectly aware of this peculiarity, and perpetuate it in their carvings.

Although taken as a whole, they are a fine race, there are many diversities among the different tribes, and they may be divided into the large and small tribes. The former are powerfully built, but more remarkable for strength than symmetry--broad-breasted and deep-chested, but with legs not equal in strength to the upper parts of the body.

Their character has been variously given, some travellers describing them as gentle and hospitable, while others decry them as fierce and treacherous. Suspicious of strangers they certainly are, and with good reason, having suffered much from the ships that visited their coasts. A misunderstanding may soon arise between savage and civilized people, especially when neither understands the language of the other. An example of such a misunderstanding is given by Mr. Earle in his valuable work on the native races of the Indian Archipelago. Lieutenant Modera, an officer in the Dutch navy, embarked with several other gentlemen in the ship’s boat, for the purpose of landing on the shore of Dourga Strait, a passage between the mainland and Frederick Henry Island.

“When the boat had proceeded to within a musket-shot distance from them, the natives, who were armed with bows, arrows, and lances, commenced making singular gestures with their arms and legs. The native interpreter called out to them in a language partly composed of Ceramese, and partly of a dialect spoken by a Papuan tribe dwelling a little further to the north; but his words were evidently quite unintelligible to them, as they only answered with loud and wild yells. We endeavored, for a long time without success, to induce them to lay aside their weapons, but at length one of them was prevailed upon to do so, and the others followed his example, on which we also laid down our arms, keeping them, however, at hand.

“We now slowly approached each other, and the interpreter, dipping his hand into the sea, sprinkled some of the water over the crown of his head as a sign of peaceful intentions. This custom seems to be general among all the Papuan tribes, and in most cases their peaceful intentions may be depended upon after having entered into this silent compact.

“This they seemed to understand, for two of them immediately did the same, on which the interpreter jumped into the shallow water, and approached them with some looking-glasses and strings of beads, which were received with loud laughter and yells. They now began dancing in the water, making the interpreter join, and the party was soon increased by other natives from the woods, who were attracted by the presents. Mr. Hagenholtz also jumped into the shallow water and joined in the dance, and they soon became so friendly as to come close round the boat; indeed some of them were even induced to get in.”

Meanwhile their confidence increased, and they began to barter with their visitors, exchanging their ornaments, and even their weapons, for beads, mirrors, and cloth. They were very inquisitive about the strange objects which they saw in the boat, and, although they handled everything freely, did not attempt to steal. One of them took up a loaded pistol, but laid it down at once when the owner said it was tapu, or forbidden. Unfortunately, a misunderstanding then took place, which destroyed all the amicable feeling which had been established.

“While all this was going on, they kept drawing the boat--unperceived, as they thought--toward the beach, which determined us to return, as our stock of presents was exhausted, and there seemed no probability of our inducing any of them to go on board with us. Shortly before this, Mr. Boers had ornamented a Papuan with a string of beads, who, on receiving it, joined two of his countrymen that were standing a little distance off with the arms that had been laid aside, but which they had been gradually getting together again--a proceeding we had observed, but, trusting in the mutual confidence that had been established, we did not much heed it.

“At the moment in which we were setting off the boat to return on board, this man fixed an arrow in his bow, and took aim at Mr. Boers, who was sitting in the fore part of the boat, on which the latter turned aside to take up his gun, but before he could do so he received the arrow in his left thigh, which knocked him over, shouting, ‘Fire! fire! I am hit!’ as he fell. The order was scarcely given before every one had hold of his arms (which, as before stated, were kept at hand), and a general discharge put the natives to flight, swimming and diving like ducks.

“Before they took to flight, however, they discharged several more arrows at our people, one of which struck Mr. Hagenholtz in the right knee, another hit a sailor in the leg, while a third pierced a sailor’s hat and remained sticking in it; and lastly, a Javanese had the handkerchief shot off his head, but without receiving any personal injury.”

Three of the natives were severely wounded, if not killed, in this unfortunate affair, which evidently arose, as Mr. Earle points out, from misunderstanding, and not from deliberate treachery. Seeing the boats being pulled toward the ships while four of their companions were on board, they probably thought that they were being carried off as captives, as has so often been done along their coast by the slavers. They could not be expected to understand the difference between one white man and another, and evidently mistook the Dutch sailors for slavers, who had come for the purpose of inveigling them into the ships, where they could not be rescued.

The tribes of this part of the coast are not agreeable specimens of the Papuan race. They are barely of the middle size, and lightly built. Their skin is decidedly black, and they ornament their bodies with red ochre, paying especial attention to their faces, which are made as scarlet as ochre can make them. The hair is deep black, and is worn in various ways. Most of the men plait it in a number of tresses, which fall nearly on the shoulders, while others confine it all into two tails, and several were seen with a curious headdress of rushes, the ends of which were firmly plaited among the hair. They are a dirty set of people, and are subject to diseases of the skin, which give them a very repulsive appearance.

Dress is not used by the men, who, however, wear plenty of ornaments. They mostly have a belt made of plaited leaves or rushes, about five inches wide, and so long that, when tied together behind, the ends hang down for a foot or so. Some of them adorn this belt with a large white shell, placed exactly in the middle. Earrings of plaited rattan, necklaces, and bracelets, were worn by nearly all. Some of them had a very ingenious armlet, several inches in width. It was made of plaited rattan, and fitted so tightly to the limb that, when a native wished to take it off for sale, he was obliged to smear his arm with mud, and have the ornament drawn off by another person.

Their principal weapons are bows, arrows, and spears, the latter being sometimes tipped with the long and sharp claw of the tree-kangaroo.

The agility of these Papuans is really astonishing. Along the water’s edge there run wide belts of mangroves, which extend for many miles in length with scarcely a break in them. The ground is a thick, deep, and soft mud, from which the mangrove-roots spring in such numbers that no one could pass through them even at low water without the constant use of an axe, while at high water all passage is utterly impossible.

As the natives, who are essentially maritime in their mode of life, have to cross this belt several times daily in passing from their canoes to their houses, and vice versa, they prefer doing so by means of the upper branches, among which they run and leap, by constant practice from childhood, as easily as monkeys. (See p. 909.) There is really nothing extraordinary in this mode of progress, which can be learned by Europeans in a short time, although they never can hope to attain the graceful ease with which the naked savages pass among the boughs. In some places the mangroves grow so closely together that to traverse them is a matter of perfect ease, and Mr. Earle remarks that he once saw a file of marines, with shouldered arms, making their way thus over a mangrove swamp.

The familiarity of these people with the trees causes them to look upon a tree as a natural fortress, and as soon as explorers succeeded in reaching the villages, the natives invariably made off, and climbed into the trees that surrounded the villages.

Wild and savage as they are, the Papuans of Dourga Strait display some acquaintance with the luxuries of civilized life and are inordinately fond of tobacco, the one luxury that is common to the highest and lowest races of mankind.

Some travellers have stated that these Papuans are cannibals, and it is certain that their gestures often favor such an opinion.

The Papuans of Dourga Strait are admirable canoe men, and paddle with singular skill and power. They always stand while paddling, a plan whereby they obtain a great increase of power, though perhaps at the expense of muscular exertion. They give as their chief reason for preferring the erect position, that it enables them to detect turtle better than if they were sitting, and to watch them as they dive under water after being wounded.

* * * * *

Skirting the coast of New Guinea and proceeding northward from Dourga Strait, we come to the OUTANATA River, at the embouchure of which is a tribe that differs much from those natives which have already been described. They are a finer and taller set of men than those of Dourga Strait, and seem to have preserved many of their customs intact since the time when Captain Cook visited them. Their skin is a very dark brown, and is described as having a bluish tinge, and they are said to rub themselves with some aromatic substance which causes them to diffuse an agreeable odor.

It is probable that the bluish gloss may be due to the same aromatic substance with which the body is perfumed. Mr. Earle thinks that the odoriferous material in question is the bark of the tree called the “rosamala.”

The blue tinge is never seen among Papuan slaves, and this circumstance adds force to Mr. Earle’s conjecture.

The features are rather large, especially the mouth, and the lips are thick. The custom of filing the teeth to a sharp point prevails among this tribe, but is not universal. The eyes are small, and the septum of the nose is always pierced so as to carry a piece of white bone, a boar’s tusk, or some similar ornament. The hair is thick, and, instead of being trained into long tails like that of the Dourga Strait natives, it is plaited from the forehead to the crown.

The men wear scarcely any real dress, many of them being entirely naked, and none of them wearing more than a small piece of bark or a strip of coarse cloth made either of cocoa-nut fibre or of split bamboo. They are, however, exceedingly fond of ornament, and have all the savage love of tattooing, or rather scarifying, the body, which is done in a way that reminds the observer of the same process among the Australians. The scarifications project above the skin to the thickness of a finger, and the natives say that this effect is produced by first cutting deeply into the flesh, and then applying heat to the wounds. Anklets, bracelets, and other articles of savage finery are common, and a man who does not wear an inch of clothing will pride himself on his boar’s teeth necklace, his bracelets of woven rattan, and his peaked rush cap.

The women always wear some amount of clothing, however small, the very fact of possessing apparel of any kind being conventionally accepted as constituting raiment. Their solitary garment consists of a small apron, about six inches square, made from the cocoa-nut fibre.

It is rather remarkable that these people have the same habit of placing their new-born children in hot sand, as has already been described when treating of the now extinct Tasmanians. When the mother goes about her work, she carries the child by means of a sort of sling made of leaves or the bark of a tree.

The architecture of the Outanatas is far superior to that of their brethren of Dourga Strait. One of these houses, described by Lieutenant Modera, was at least a hundred feet in length, though it was only five feet high and six wide, so that a man could not stand upright in it. There were nineteen doors to this curious building, which was at first mistaken for a row of separate huts. The floor is covered with white sand, and the inhabitants generally seat themselves on mats. Each of these doors seemed to be appropriated to a single family, and near the doors were placed the different fireplaces. Over the roof a fishing net had been spread to dry in the sun, while a number of weapons were hung under the roof.

This house was built in a few days by the women and girls, and was placed near a much larger building, which had been raised on piles.

The weapons of the Outanatas are spears, clubs, and the usual bow and arrows, which form the staple of Polynesian arms.

The bows are about five feet in length, and are furnished with a string sometimes made of bamboo and sometimes of rattan. The arrows are about four feet in length, and made of cane or reed, to the end of which is attached a piece of hard wood, generally that of the betel-tree. The tips are mostly simple, the wood being scraped to a sharp point and hardened in the fire, but the more ambitious weapons are armed with barbs, and furnished with a point made of bone. The teeth of the sawfish are often employed for this purpose, and a few of the arrows are tipped with the kangaroo claw, as already mentioned in the description of the Dourga Strait spear.

Beside these weapons, the natives carry a sort of axe made of stone lashed to a wooden handle, but this ought rather to be considered as a tool than a weapon, although it can be used in the latter capacity. With this simple instrument the Outanatas cut down the trees, shape them into canoes, and perform the various pieces of carpentering that are required in architecture.

The most remarkable part of an Outanata’s equipment is an instrument which greatly perplexed the earlier voyagers, and led them to believe that these natives were acquainted with fire-arms. Captain Cook, who visited New Guinea in 1770, mentions that as soon as he reached the shore and had left his boat, three natives, or “Indians,” as he calls them, rushed out of the wood, and that one of them threw out of his hand something which “flew on one side of him and burnt exactly like powder, but made no report.” The two others hurled their spears at the travellers, who were in self-defence obliged to use their fire-arms.

Not wishing to come to an engagement, they retired to the boat, and reached it just in time, the natives appearing in considerable force. “As soon as we were aboard, we rowed abreast of them, and their number then appeared to be between sixty and a hundred. We took a view of them at our leisure. They made much the same appearance as the New Hollanders, being nearly of the same stature, and having their hair short-cropped. Like them they also were all stark naked, but we thought the color of their skin was not quite so dark; this, however, might be merely the effect of their being not quite so dirty.

“All this time they were shouting defiance, and letting off their fires by four or five at a time. What those fires were, or for what purpose intended, we could not imagine. Those who discharged them had in their hands a short piece of stick--possibly a hollow cane--which they swung sideways from them, and we immediately saw fire and smoke, exactly resembling those of a musket, and of no longer duration. This wonderful phenomenon was observed from the ship, and the deception was so great that the people on board thought they had firearms; and in the boat, if we had not been so near that we must have heard the report, we should have thought they had been firing volleys.”

The reader will doubtless remark here that the travellers were so accustomed to associate fire with smoke that they believed themselves to have seen flashes of fire as well as wreaths of smoke issue from the strange weapon. Many years afterward, Lieutenant Modera contrived to see and handle some of these implements, and found that they were simply hollow bamboos, filled with a mixture of sand and wood-ashes, which could be flung like smoke-wreaths from the tubes. The Outanatas, their weapons, canoes and the remarkable instrument just described, are illustrated on the following page.

Some persons have thought that the natives used these tubes in imitation of firearms, but the interpreters gave it as their opinion that they were employed as signals, the direction of the dust cloud being indicative of the intention of the thrower. Others say that the tubes are really weapons, made for the purpose of blinding their adversaries by flinging sand in their eyes. I cannot agree with this last suggestion, because the other weapons of the Outanatas show that the natives do not fight hand to hand like the New Zealanders. I think that the interpreters were right in their statement that the tubes are used for signalling, and this supposition is strengthened by the fact that the natives of Australia do use smoke for the same purpose, as has already been described.

The canoes of the Outanatas are often of considerable size, measuring fifty or sixty feet, and, although narrow in proportion to their length from stem to stern, containing a great number of men. They are handsomely carved and adorned with paint, and both ends are flat and broad. The rowers stand up when they use their paddles, which are necessarily of considerable length, having long handles and oval blades slightly hollowed. The narrowness of these canoes strengthens the opinion of several travellers, that the Outanatas are really an inland tribe, descending the river in flotillas, and returning to their inland home when the object of their expedition is accomplished.

They seem to be less suspicious than their countrymen of Dourga Strait, and have no hesitation in meeting Europeans and exchanging their own manufactures for cloth, knives, and glass bottles, the last mentioned objects being always favorite articles of barter with Polynesian savages, who employ them when entire for holding liquids, and, if they should unfortunately be broken, use the fragments for knives, lancets, points of weapons, and similar purposes. Lieutenant Modera describes the appearance of one of their flotillas as representing a perfect fair, the boats being laid closely together, and their decks crowded with natives laden with articles for barter.

Unlike the Dourga Strait natives, those of the Outanata River had no objection to come on board the European ships, and visited the vessels in great numbers. Even their principal chief came on board frequently. On the first occasion he disguised his rank, and merely came as an ordinary native, but he afterward avowed himself, and came freely on board in his own character. For convenience’ sake he called himself Abrauw, i. e. Abraham, a name by which he was well known for a considerable distance. He offered no objection to going below and entering the Captain’s cabin, though his subjects were rather uneasy at his absence, and shouted his name so perseveringly that he was obliged every now and then to put his head out of the cabin window. He had all the regal power of concealing astonishment, and witnessed with utter imperturbability the discharge of firearms, the ticking of watches, and examples of similar marvels. He did, however, display a little interest in the musketry practice, which was directed at a succession of bottles, slung from the yard-arm, but whether he was struck with the accuracy of aim or with the needless destruction of valuable bottles is doubtful.

He seemed to be worthy of his position as chief, and was desirous of establishing an European settlement near the mouth of the Outanata. Unfortunately, the river, although a noble stream, has a sandbar across the mouth which effectually prevents vessels of even light draught from passing except at high water. The people in general were wonderfully honest, not displaying the thievish propensities which cause the visits of many savage tribes to be so troublesome. They even brought on board articles which had been accidentally left on shore. They probably owe much of their superiority to their connection with the Malay Mohammedans, many of whom visit New Guinea as traders.

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XCI. NEW GUINEA--Concluded

THE ALFOËRS OR HARAFORAS -- VARIOUS REPORTS RESPECTING THEM -- THEIR MODE OF GOVERNMENT -- AN ALFOËRIAN DIVORCE COURT -- TREPANG COLLECTING -- DESTRUCTION OF PROPERTY -- FUNERAL RITES -- TRIBES OF THE SOUTH-EASTERN COAST -- A QUAINT DRUMMER -- DRESS AND ORNAMENT -- THE TATTOO -- THE FULL-DRESS PETTICOAT -- HAIR-DRESSING -- EXCELLENCE OF THEIR CANOES -- AN INGENIOUS SAIL -- HOW TO STOP A LEAK -- THE PIG-PET -- ARCHITECTURE -- DEFENCE AGAINST VERMIN -- HOUSES OF REDSCAR BAY -- DREAD OF STEEL -- TRIBES OF THE NORTH-WEST COAST -- THEIR CANOES -- MODES OF FISHING -- AQUATIC HOUSES -- MODE OF GOVERNMENT -- APPOINTMENT OF A NEW CHIEF -- NEW GUINEA WEDDINGS -- THE KARWAR, OR HOUSEHOLD GOD -- THE WAR-DANCE -- CEREMONIES AT FUNERALS.

We must here give a short space to some tribes called by various names, such as Haraforas, Alfouras, and Alfoërs, and supposed by many ethnologists to be a separate family living in New Guinea and the neighboring islands, but as distinct from the generality of the inhabitants as the Bosjesman of Southern Africa are from the Kaffir.

This theory, however, has now been shown to be untenable, and it is now known that the word Alfoërs, or Alfouras, is applied by the tribes of the coast to those who live in the interior. The word has a Portuguese origin, and as Mr. Earle remarks, is applied to the mountaineers of the interior, just as the Spaniards called the aborigines of America “Indians,” and the Mohammedan inhabitants of Salee and Mindano “Moros,” or “Moors.”

Most of the accounts that have been received of the Alfoërs are not at all to be trusted. They have been described as peculiarly disgusting and repulsive, ferocious, gloomy, living in the depths of the forest, and murdering all strangers who came in their way. In fact, they have a worse reputation than the Andamaners. It has been ascertained, however, that these evil reports have originated from the coast tribes, who have a very strong objection to allow foreigners to penetrate inland.

The reason is obvious. The visits of the traders are exceedingly valuable, furnishing all kinds of tools, weapons and ornaments, which constitute the wealth of the savage. The natives, having purchased these with articles which to themselves are comparatively valueless, can sell their superabundance to the inland Alfoërs, and make an enormous profit on their bargain. If the white men were allowed to go inland and trade directly with the natives, their profitable traffic would be broken up.

As far as can be ascertained, the Alfoërs are in much the same state as were the Outanatas before they were visited by traders. Those who were seen were remarkable for a certain stupidity of aspect, a taciturnness of disposition, and a slowness of movement, which are not found among the Outanatas. As, however, they were slaves, it is more than likely that these characteristics were the result of servitude.

Subsequently some discoveries were made among the Alfoërs, which entirely contradicted the reports of the coast tribes. They are certainly rough in their manners, and if they take a dislike to a foreigner, or if he should perchance offend any of their prejudices, they eject him from the district with more speed than ceremony; taking care, however, not to inflict personal damage, and refraining from confiscating his property.

As far as can be ascertained from the slight intercourse which has been held with these tribes, there is no regular form of government, the elders deciding disputes, and their decisions being respected. They are an honest set of people, paying the greatest regard to the rights of property; and being so scrupulous in this respect, that if any one should even enter the house of an absent man he is called to account, and made to pay a fine to the owner of the house. A similar law exists with regard to the women. If a man should even touch, though accidentally, the wife of another, he makes himself liable to a fine.

A curious example of this regulation is mentioned by Lieutenant Kolff. A man set out in his canoe to fish, intending to return in a week; but being caught by contrary winds, he was driven away from his own part of the coast, and was detained two months. Unfortunately he had only left at home provisions for a week, and his wife, finding herself without food, asked a neighbor to provide it for her. This he did, and as, day after day, nothing was heard of the husband, the woman transferred her affections and herself to the neighbor who had assisted her, and the pair went off to another island.

After two months had elapsed the husband came back, and, not finding his wife, demanded her from her brothers, who were then bound to produce her. They set off in search of the guilty couple, discovered them, and brought them back, when the injured husband demanded an enormous sum by way of fine. The man said that he could not possibly pay such a sum if he were to work for the rest of his lifetime. The affair was eventually brought before the elders, who decided that the husband had done wrong in leaving his wife so ill provided for, and that if he had supplied her with a sufficiency of provisions the acquaintance between herself and her paramour would probably have been avoided. So they decreed that the man should pay a small fine, and advised the husband to leave plenty of provisions at home when he next went out fishing.

The principal object for which the natives make these expeditions is the trepang, or sea-slug (Holothuria), which is in great demand in China, and is purchased by traders from the natives for the Chinese market. It is chiefly by means of the trepang that a man procures a wife. As is the case among many savage tribes, a wife can only be obtained by purchase, so that daughters are quite as valuable to their parents as sons. With the Alfoërs, the marriage present must always consist of foreign valuables, such as elephants’ tusks, gongs, China dishes, cloth, and similar objects. These are obtained by exchanging trepang with the traders.

When, therefore, a young man wants a wife, and has settled the amount of the marriage portion with the father, he goes off for a year on a hunting expedition. He takes a canoe, and sails from island to island, catching as much trepang as possible, and begging from all those whom he visits. At the end of the year he returns home, knowing that by means of the protective law his house and property will be perfectly safe, and presents himself to the father of the girl with the goods which he has obtained. It is seldom that he is able to make up the entire amount at once, but he is allowed to pay by instalments.

Property cannot be inherited, owing to a peculiar custom. As soon as any one dies, his relations assemble, gather together all his valuables, break them to pieces, and throw the fragments away. Even the precious brass gongs are thus broken, the survivors thinking that no one may use anything belonging to the dead. Large heaps of broken china, ivory, and metal are found on the outskirts of villages that have existed for any long time, showing that many deaths must have occurred within its limits.

The rest of the funeral ceremonies are curious, and are worthy of a brief description.

When death is ascertained, notice is sent to all the relatives of the deceased, who often are scattered widely apart, so that several days usually elapse before they can all assemble. The body meanwhile is kept sprinkled with lime, in order to retard decay as much as possible, and aromatic resins are burned in the house to counteract any ill odor. As the relatives come, they take their places in the house, and begin drinking. Before the traders supplied them with arrack, they had a fermented liquor made by themselves from fruit. They always offer the deceased a share of everything, putting a little food into the mouth of the dead person, and pouring a little liquid between the senseless lips. Meanwhile the women utter loud lamentations, gongs are beaten, and a stunning uproar is kept up until the time of the funeral.

When the relatives have all assembled, a bier is provided, covered with cloth, the quantity and quality of which accord with the wealth of the deceased; and the body is then brought out in front of the house, and supported in a sitting position against a post. The villagers then assemble, and a general feast takes place, a share of which is offered to the deceased as before. Finding that he will neither eat nor drink, in spite of the solicitations of his friends and companions, the body is carried into the woods, where it is placed on a platform erected on four feet.

This being done, the concluding ceremony is left to the women. They remove all their clothing, and then plant by the side of the platform a young sapling; this ceremony being called the “casting away of the body,” and considered as a symbol that the deceased has done with his body, and thrown it from him.

* * * * *

Passing more to the eastward of New Guinea, we come to some interesting nations inhabiting Brumer’s Island, and the neighborhood. These islands are situate about lat. 10° 45´ S. and lon. 150° 23´ E.

Living as they do on a number of small islands, the largest being rather less than three miles in width, the natives are necessarily maritime, passing from one island to another in their admirably contrived vessels. They are accustomed to the visits of ships, and boldly put off to meet them, taking no weapons, except for sale, and displaying the greatest confidence in their visitors.

One of these natives caused great amusement by his imitation of the ship’s drummer. Some one gave him a large tin can, which he, being a musical genius, immediately converted into a drum. At first he merely pounded it with his hands, but when the ship’s drummer was sent into the chains, and began to play upon his instrument, the man watched him for a little time, and then began to imitate him in the most ludicrous manner, his antics and grimaces being especially provocative of laughter. The effect of his buffoonery was heightened by the manner in which he had adorned his face. He had blackened his naturally dark features with charcoal, and had drawn a streak of white paint over each eyebrow, and another under the chin to the cheekbones.

The mode of salutation is rather ludicrous to a stranger, as it consists of pinching. When they desire to salute any one, they pinch the tip of the nose with the finger and thumb of the right hand, while with the left they pinch the middle of their stomachs, accompanying this odd and complex gesture with the word “Magasûka.” These natives seem to be a hospitable people, for, after several of them had been received on board and treated kindly, they returned on the following day, and brought with them a great quantity of cooked yams, for which they refused payment.

The men wear nothing but a small strip of pandanus leaf, but the women have a dress which in principle is exactly similar to the thong-aprons of Southern Africa. It consists of a number of very narrow strips of pandanus leaf, reaching nearly to the knee. The girls wear only a single row of these strips, but the women wear several layers of them, one coming a little below the other, like flounces. In wet weather the uppermost petticoat is taken from the waist and tied round the neck, so as to protect the shoulders from the rain, which shoots off the leaf-strips as off a thatched roof.

On gala days a much handsomer petticoat is worn. This consists of much finer leaf strips than those which constitute the ordinary dress, and it is dyed of various colors. Some of them which were seen by Mr. M’Gillivray were red and green, with bands of pale yellow and pure white. The tufts of which they were composed were extremely light and soft, and looked like very fine-twisted grass blades. Several of the women, by way of finishing their toilet, had blackened their faces. This process, if it did not add to their beauty, certainly did not detract from it, as their faces were originally so plain that the black covering could not make them more ugly. The young men and lads formed a curious contrast to the women in this respect, many of them being remarkable for their good looks.

The women usually, though not invariably, divide their hair into a vast number of little tresses, and twist them up like the thrums of a mop, while the men tease out their stiff and wiry locks as much as possible, and fix in them a slender stick, some two feet in length, decorated with a little plume at the top, the base being cut into teeth and so used as a comb.

The inhabitants of Redscar Bay use a more elaborate system of tattooing than that which has been described above. The men generally restrict themselves to certain portions of the body, such as the breast, cheeks, forehead, and arms, and even on those spots the tattooing is comparatively slight. But the women are so covered with blue patterns, that there is hardly a portion of their bodies which has not been thus decorated. They have various patterns, but the usual type is formed by double parallel lines, the intervals between which are filled with smaller patterns, or with zigzag lines. As the dress of the women consists merely of the leaf-strip petticoat, the patterns of the tattooing are very fully displayed.

The hair of the men is dressed here after a rather singular fashion. It is shaved from the forehead for some three inches, and the remainder is combed backward to its full length. A string is then tied round it, so as to confine it as closely as possible to the head, leaving rather more than half its length to be frizzed into a mop-like bundle projecting from the crown.

Those who are especially careful of their personal appearance add an ornament which is not unlike the pigtail of the last century. A tolerably large bunch of hair is gathered together and tied into a long and straight tail, the end of which is decorated with some ornament. In one case, a man had attached to his pigtail a bunch of dogs’ teeth. The mouths, naturally wide, are disfigured with the universal custom of chewing the betel-leaf mixed with lime, which stains the lips of a dull brick-red, and makes the whole mouth look as if it had been bleeding.

The hair is usually black, but some diversities of color are often seen. Sometimes it is black except the tips of each tress, where the hue becomes yellow or reddish, and sometimes the whole of the hair is red. In all probability, this change of tint is produced by artificial means, such as lime-water, the use of which is known in various parts of New Guinea. Those who have the entire hair red have probably dyed it lately, while those who have only the tips red have passed several months without dyeing it. There is but little beard or moustache.

As far as can be judged from appearances, the women are treated better than is usually the case among savages, and seem to be considered as equal with the men. They are affectionate parents, as was proved by the fact that children were often brought by their fathers to look at the ships.

The average stature of these natives was rather small, few exceeding five feet four inches in height. They were very active, but not powerful, as was proved by testing their strength against that of the ship’s crew.

Allusion has already been made to their skill in boating. These natives possess various canoes, some so small as only to hold, and by no means to accommodate, one person, while others contain with ease fifty or sixty at once.

The commonest canoe is that which is popularly called a catamaran, and which is more of a raft than a boat. It is formed of three planks lashed together with rattan. The man sits, or rather kneels, a little behind the centre, and is able to propel this simple vessel with great speed. Some of these catamarans are large enough to carry ten or twelve persons, together with a cargo. Instead of being merely three planks, they consist of three great logs of wood laid side by side, and lashed firmly together with rattan at their ends, in the centre, and midway between the centre and each end. There is no particular bow or stern, but the central log is longer than the others, so as to project at each end, and is generally carved into rude patterns, and ornamented with red and white paint.

Of course the sea washes freely over this primitive vessel, so that the natives are obliged to erect a small platform in the middle, on which they can place any goods that might be damaged by wetting.

One of the smaller catamarans is shown in the foreground of illustration, No. 2, on the next page, and just behind it is one of the large canoes with its sail struck. Such a canoe as this is about twenty-five feet in length. It consists of two parts, the canoe proper and the outrigger. The canoe proper is very curiously formed. It is cut from the trunk of a tree, and, in spite of its length, is not more than eighteen or nineteen inches in extreme width. The most curious part of its construction is, that the sides, after bulging out below, come together above, so that the space between the gunwale is barely eight inches, there is only just room for a man’s legs to pass into the interior of the boat. A section of the canoe would present an outline very much like that of the Greek Omega reversed, thus--℧. In order to preserve the gunwales from injury, a slight pole is lashed to them throughout their entire length.

As is the case with the catamaran, both ends of the canoe are alike. They are generally raised well above the water, and are carved into the semblance of a snake’s or turtle’s head, and decorated with paint, tufts of feathers, shells, and similar ornaments.

The outrigger is as long as the canoe, to which it is attached by a series of light poles to the gunwale of the canoe itself. The method by which the outer ends of the poles are fastened to the outrigger is very curious, and can be better understood by reference to the illustration than by a description. Like the ends of the canoe, those of the outrigger poles are fashioned into a snake-like form.

The natives can run along these poles to the outrigger with perfect safety, often sitting upon it when the wind is high, so as to preserve the balance of the vessel. In many canoes, however, a slight platform is laid upon these poles, so as greatly to increase the burthen-carrying space of the vessel; and a corresponding but smaller platform projects from the opposite side of the canoe. On this platform several paddlers are stationed, finding it easier to work their long-handled paddles from the platform than from the narrow space of the canoe itself.

The sail is made of strips of palm leaf, interlaced with each other. When it is not required, the sail is struck and rolled up, so as to occupy as little room as possible, and the mast can also be struck, like those of our sailing barges while passing under a bridge.

Two other kinds of New Guinea canoes are shown in the same illustration. These canoes are not found in the same part of New Guinea, but, as the natives travel in them for considerable distances, they have been brought together in the same illustration for the convenience of comparison.

Beyond the large canoe is a smaller one, with a sail that is set in rather a curious manner. There is no mast, but the two edges of the sail are fastened to slight spars, and when the native finds the wind to be favorable, he fixes the lower ends of these spars in the canoe, and supports the upper ends by stays or ropes that were fore and aft. The reader will notice the pointed end of the cylindrical outrigger. On the opposite side to the outrigger is a slight platform made of planks. The platform itself is out of sight, but the reader may see the heads and shoulders of the two men who are sitting on it.

This canoe is made near Redscar Point, and, except in the arrangement of the sail, is somewhat similar to the vessels which are built at Brumer Island. The paddles are between six and seven feet in length, and are rather clumsily formed, without any attempt at ornament.

The canoe to the right of the illustration is the most curious of these vessels. The body of the canoe is made out of the trunk of a tree, which is first shaped to a conical form at each end, and then hollowed. Over the ends is firmly fixed a piece of wood, several feet in length, so as to make the two ends into hollow cones into which the water cannot force its way. The gunwale is raised about two feet by planks which box in the opening of the canoe, and act as wash-boards, the seams being pitched and rendered water-tight.

These particulars are mentioned because in general the natives of New Guinea are singularly indifferent as to the amount of water which is taken in by their canoes, provided that they are not sunk. There is, for example, one kind of New Guinea canoe found in Coral Haven, in which the gunwales are not connected at the stern, which is left open. The water would of course rush in, were it not that one of the crew sits in the opening, forcing his body into it so as to render it temporarily water-tight. Even with this precaution it is impossible to prevent some water from making its way between the body of the man and the sides of the canoe, as it heels over by the force of the wind, and in squally weather another of the crew is obliged to keep perpetually baling with a large shell.

The most curious part of the canoe which we are now examining is the sail, which, clumsy as it looks, is a very great improvement on those which have been previously described, inasmuch as it can be shifted and trimmed to suit the wind.

The mast, instead of being merely stuck upright when wanted, is permanently fixed, but is so short that it causes no inconvenience when the sail is struck and the paddles alone are employed. It is fixed, or “stepped,” into a hole in a board at the bottom of the canoe, and is lashed to a transverse spar that extends across the canoe from one gunwale to the other. At the head of the mast is a stout projecting arm, through which is bored a hole.

The sail is made by matting stretched between two slight spars, and when not wanted it can be rolled up and laid up on the platform of the outrigger. The halyard, a rope by which the sail is hauled to its place, is fixed to the middle of the sail, and passes through the hole in the projecting arm of the mast-head. Hopes are fastened to each end, constituting the “tack” and the “sheet.” When the crew wish to put their canoe about, they do so in a very expeditious manner, merely letting go the ropes and hauling them in again, so as to turn the sail and convert the sheet into the tack, and vice versâ. As both ends of the canoe are alike, the vessel at once obeys the new impulse, and goes off in the required direction.

The canoe is steered with one special paddle some nine feet in length, of which the oblong, rounded blade occupies half.

* * * * *

The inhabitants of the New Guinea coasts are remarkable for their skill in swimming and diving. When H. M. S. Rattlesnake was off New Guinea, the anchor of one of the boats caught in the coral, and could not be dislodged. An old man who was standing on the beach saw that something was wrong, and swam off to the boat. He soon understood the case, and, after diving several times, succeeded in clearing the anchor, a feat for which he was rewarded by an axe. He always dived feet foremost, without an effort, and remained under water for about half a minute.

It is rather curious that the love of pigs which is found among the New Zealanders should be quite as strongly developed among the natives of New Guinea. The girls and women make great pets of them, and it is not at all an uncommon event to see a young girl tripping along in all the graceful freedom of the savage, holding a young pig in her arms, and caressing and talking to it as an European girl talks to her doll, or to her pet lapdog. These pigs are long-legged, black-skinned, stiff-haired animals, not at all agreeing with our ideas of a pig’s proper form.

The dress used by the women consists of slender leaf-strips, and forms a really graceful costume. Many of the women employ a kind of tattooing, though they do not carry it to such an extent as to disfigure themselves. The patterns, though elaborate, are very small and delicate, and extend over a considerable portion of the body. The arms and front of the body display a regular pattern, which is usually carried over the shoulder for a little way, but leaves the back untouched. The most delicate pattern is reserved for the arm and waist, where it looks like a delicate blue lace fitting tightly to the skin. The women are very proud of this ornament, and are always gratified when a stranger expresses admiration of it. The men occasionally use the tattoo, but in a comparatively scanty manner, confining the patterns to a star or two on the breast. Now and then a man will have a double series of stars and dots extending from the centre of the chest to the shoulders, but on an average a native of this part of the country is not so much tattooed as an ordinary English sailor.

The architecture of this part of New Guinea differs from that of Dourga Strait in being much more elaborate, but throughout New Guinea the style of house-building is so similar that we will take a few examples as representatives of the whole group of islands. All the houses are elevated on posts like those of the Nicobar Islands, but have several improvements in architecture.

The posts vary in number according to the size of the house, and about four feet from the ground each post passes through a wide circular wooden disc, which serves as an effectual barrier against the rats and snakes, which would otherwise take possession of the dwellings. The posts are connected together at about five feet from the ground by rafters, on which the floor is laid.

These rafters, or joists, support a row of poles laid horizontally side by side, and upon them are laid crosswise a great number of slighter spars, thus forming a framework, on which is fixed the floor itself, which consists of a number of thin planks taken from the cocoa-nut tree. The supporting posts are about ten feet in total length, and are connected at their tops by horizontal poles, on which a second or upper floor is fixed, precisely similar to the principal floor, though much smaller. On this upper floor are kept the weapons, implements, provisions, and similar articles, for which accommodation cannot be found on the principal floor. A supply of water, for example, is generally kept in the huts, a number of empty cocoa-nut shells being used in lieu of bottles, and closed at the orifice by a plug of grass. In fact, they are identical in principal with the ostrich-egg vessels of the South African savage, which have been already described upon a preceding page.

Entrance is gained to the house by a square hole in the flooring, and the primitive staircase by which the inhabitants ascend into their houses is equally simple and effectual. It is necessary that the stairs--if we may use the term--should be so constructed, that while human beings can easily obtain access to the house, the rats and other vermin shall be kept out. If an ordinary ladder or even a notched pole were fixed to the house, the rats and snakes would be sure to climb up it and take possession of the dwelling. The native architect, therefore, proceeds after a different fashion.

Immediately under the opening in the floor he fixes two stout posts in the ground, leaving them to project rather more than three feet. The posts have forked heads, and upon them is laid a transverse pole, which is firmly lashed to them. From this transverse pole another pole is laid to the ground, so as to form an inclined plane up which the inhabitants of the house can walk. It will now be seen, that if a man walk up the inclined pole, to the transverse one, he can pass along the latter in a stooping attitude until he comes to the opening in the floor. He can then pass his body through the opening and lift himself to the level of the floor, while the space which intervenes between the horizontal post and the floor affords an effectual barrier against the rats and other vermin.

The reader will better understand this description by comparing it with illustration No. 1, on the 916th page, which represents three of these huts. That on the right is seen from the end, and is represented as half finished, in order to show the structure of the interior.

The sides and roof of the hut are formed of slight spars which are lashed together by a framework, so as to form a support for the thatching. This is made of coarse grass pulled up by the roots in large tufts, and covered with an outer layer of cocoa-nut leaves. If the house be a large one, there is an entrance at each end, and another in the middle, each being closed with neatly woven mats. Similar but coarser mats are fastened to the lower portion of the sides, in order to exclude the wind.

Up to this point the architecture is identical throughout the island, but a divergence takes place in the shape of the house itself, according to the locality. The usual form is that which is represented in the illustration. Such a house as is there drawn is on the average thirty feet in length, nine in width, and thirteen in total height, so that a space of about three feet intervenes between the upper floor and the roof. The central figure of the illustration shows the side view of a finished hut, and the left-hand figure shows the end view of a similar dwelling.

In some places, however, such for example as Redscar Bay, the form of the houses is different. Instead of having the slender poles which form the framework of the walls bent over in a curved form, they are arranged so as to make a lofty and sharply-pointed gable roof. A house of this description, which measures thirty feet in length, will reach, on an average, twenty-five feet in height. There is no distinction between the roof and walls of the huts, except that the lower portion of the roof is covered with sheets of a bark-like substance, which is supposed to be the base of the cocoa-nut leaf flattened by pressure. The entrance or door of these huts is at one end, and is covered with a mat as has already been mentioned. Access is obtained by a sloping pole resting on a short post. In some of these huts a number of spears were seen in the interior, lashed along the sides, together with several human skulls; but whether the latter were intended as ornaments, or whether they were preserved in memorial of the dead owners, is not certain.

The people who inhabit Redscar Bay and its vicinity exhibited a curious mixture of shyness and confidence. They came freely to the ships as they anchored in the bay, and were very anxious to be admitted on board, peeping into the ports in the most inquisitive manner, and holding up their weapons and implements for sale. They have in use a rather remarkable arrow, with a head in the form of a pointed gouge or scoop.

One of these arrows is in my collection. The shaft is made in the usual manner from a reed, and is weighted at one end with a piece of hard and heavy wood. Into this wooden tip is cut a deep groove, into which slips the butt of the head. This is about eight inches in length, and is made of bamboo, the reed being nearly cut away so as to leave a piece rather more than half an inch in width in the middle, and tapering gently to one end so as to form a point, and abruptly to the other end in order to form a butt which can be slipped, into the wooden tip of the arrow.

Bamboo scoops of a similar description, but of a larger size, are used as knives, and are sharpened by the simple process of biting off a piece of the edge. When Mr. M’Gillivray visited New Guinea, he asked a native the use of the bamboo scoop; and when he found that it was used as a knife, he produced his own knife, and, taking up a piece of wood, he showed the superiority of steel over bamboo by cutting a stick vigorously with it.

Strangely enough, instead of being gratified with the performance of the knife, the man was so frightened that he pushed off his canoe, called his friends around him, and explained to them the terrible deed that had been done. The knife was offered to him, but he looked upon the proffered gift as an aggravation of the original offence, and declined all overtures toward reconciliation. This aversion to steel was found to be prevalent among the inhabitants of this part of New Guinea.

The bow by which these arrows are propelled is a very effective though clumsily made weapon. My own specimen is about six feet in length, and is made from some hard and tough wood, apparently that of the cocoa-nut tree. It is very stiff, and requires a strong arm to draw it. The string is a strip of rattan, like that which has already been mentioned when treating of North Australia.

Passing to the north-west of the island, we find that their appearance and manners are not very dissimilar from those which belong to their brethren of the southern coast. Taking the Dory people as our type, we find that they often display good examples of the high and narrow forehead of the Papuan family, and many of them have narrow and arched noses, together with lips nearly as thin as those of an European. Indeed, some of these natives possess a cast of countenance which is so like that of an European that several travellers have thought that there must have been some admixture of foreign blood. Such, however, is not the case, these peculiarities belonging to the individual, and not implying any foreign mixture.

The canoes of this part of the country are rather different from those of the southern coast. The mast is made of three distinct spars, united at their tops. Two of them are fastened to the side by pins passing through them, on which they work backward and forward, as if on hinges. The third is not fastened to the vessel, but its butt fits into a cavity from which it can be removed at pleasure. If, therefore, the natives wish to use their paddles, all they have to do is to lift the foot of this spar out of its socket, when the whole of the triple mast can be lowered on deck. When the wind becomes favorable, and the sail is to be employed, the masts are raised again, the butt of the third spar is stepped into its socket, and the triple mast is thus kept firmly upright. A similar contrivance is now proposed for our ships of war, as these triple masts made of three slight iron bars cannot be so easily shot away as the single and solid mast.

The natives are very expert canoe-men, and are accustomed to the use of their vessels from childhood. Even the small boys have their little canoes, which are so light that they can be carried to and from the water without difficulty.

They excel as fishermen, being as expert in the water as on it. The trepang fishery is energetically conducted by them, as it is by the sale of trepang to the merchants that they obtain the greater part of the foreign luxuries on which they set so high a value. The hawksbill turtle is captured principally for the sake of the shell, which is also purchased by the traders, and, together with mother-of-pearl shell, is mostly sent to the Chinese markets.

The mode of fishing with a net is much the same as on all these coasts. The net is three or four feet in depth, and a hundred feet or more in length. The meshes are about an inch in width. One edge is furnished with a row of flat pieces of light wood, which act as floats, and along the other edge are fastened a number of perforated shells by way of weights.

When the natives wish to use this net, they place it in a canoe, and look out for a shoal of fish. As soon as a favorable opportunity is found, the canoe is taken to seaward of the shoal, and let carefully into the water. Each end is taken in charge by one or two men, who bring the net round the shoal in semi-circular form, so as to enclose the fish. These men gradually approach each other, while another man beats the water with a pole, or flings stones into it, so as to frighten the fish into the enclosure. As soon as the two ends of the net have been brought together, the canoe comes up, and the net, with the fish hanging in its meshes, is hauled on board. They also use fish-traps, like those which have been already described in the account of Australia, sinking them by means of a stone, and raising them by a cord, to the end of which a bamboo buoy is fastened.

They are tolerable smiths, and have a kind of bellows identical in principle with those of savage Africa, but worked in a different manner. Instead of having a couple of inflated skins, they have a pair of wide bamboo tubes, about four feet in length, the lower ends of which are buried in the earth, and connected by means of channels with the hole in which the fire is made. The pistons are formed of bunches of feathers tied to bamboos, and the blower works them alternately up and down, so as to produce a tolerably constant blast. It is remarkable that the bellows of the Chinese itinerant jeweller are fitted with feather pistons. It is most probable that these bellows have been borrowed from the more eastern islands.

As to the actual working of the metal, it bears a curious similitude to that which is employed in savage Africa. The anvil is generally a stone, unless the native smiths can procure an iron “pig” or a piece of a broken anchor. They can work in silver and copper as well as iron, melting the two former metals and running them into moulds, to be afterward beaten and worked into shape.

The architecture of these tribes is rather remarkable. Like the generality of houses in New Guinea, the huts are raised on stakes in order to preserve them from vermin; but those of the Dory people are similarly elevated in order to preserve them from water. These natives have a curious predilection for building their huts on the sea-shore, and place them below the level of low water. They begin this curious style of architecture by building a long pier, or rather jetty, which extends far into the sea, and which keeps open a communication between the house and the shore.

At the end of this jetty the hut itself is situated, and is made of boarded walls and a thatched roof. Great as is the labor that is bestowed upon it, the house does not come up to our ideas of comfort. In the first place, the floors are made of rough spars, placed parallel to each other, but still far enough apart to cause some uneasiness, not to say danger, to an unpractised walker.

A good specimen of a Dory house is about seventy feet long, twenty-five wide, and fifteen high. Along the centre runs a tolerably wide passage, and at either side are a number of rooms, separated from each other and from the passage by mats. At the end next the sea there are no walls, but only a roof, so that a sort of verandah is formed, under which the inhabitants spend much of their time when they are not actively employed. Such a house as this is usually occupied by some forty or fifty individuals, consisting of about twenty men, together with the wives and families of those who are married. All cooking is carried on by the different families in their own chambers, each of which is furnished with its own fireplace.

The dress of the Dory natives varies but little from that of other Papuans of New Guinea. The men, however, often ornament their bodies with raised scars like those of the Australians, and they are fond of tattooing their breasts and arms with figures of their weapons. They are fond of ornaments, such as shells, twisted wire, and armlets of plaited rattan. They ingeniously utilize the latter ornament by plaiting a very thick and strong bracelet, and wearing it on the left wrist and fore-arm, so as to protect the wearer from the recoil of the bowstring.

Though not a warlike people, they always go armed, carrying the invariable parang, or chopper, which, as its very name imparts, is procured from the Malay tribes. These parangs are chiefly made in Borneo, as we shall see when we come to treat of the Dyaks. The Dory Papuans do not seem to fight, as do some savage tribes, for the mere love of combat; the chief object of warfare being the capture of slaves, each of whom is valued at fifty shillings.

This value is, however, a conventional term; and when a bargain is made with the Dory people for so many slaves, in most cases the conventional money value is intended, and not the actual slaves. In fact, the word “slaves” is used much as we use the word “horses” in reckoning the power of a steam-engine, or “tons” in describing the capacity of a ship. Perhaps the words “pony” and “monkey,” of modern sporting slang, are better illustrations.

Still, slavery is rife among the Dory people, who sometimes make a raid into a district, capture a village, and carry off the inhabitants into servitude. They do not, however, treat their captives badly, but feed them well, and seem to consider them partly in the light of domestic servants, and partly as available capital, or as a means of exchange when any of their own friends are taken prisoners by hostile tribes.

The government of the Dory tribes is nominally a delegated chieftainship, but in reality a sort of oligarchy. There is a certain dignitary, called the Sultan of Tidore, under whose sway this part of the country is supposed to be, and from him the chief of the Dory tribes receives his rank. When the chief dies, one of his relatives goes to convey the news to the Sultan, taking with him a present of slaves and birds of paradise as tokens of allegiance. This man is almost always appointed to the vacant place, and is bound to pay a certain tribute of slaves, provisions, and war canoes, the latter being employed in collecting the Sultan’s taxes. Should he fail to comply with these conditions, his village would be attacked by the Sultan’s fleet, and the whole district ransacked; so that the position of chief has its anxieties as well as its privileges.

His authority is more nominal than real, for he decides nothing but unimportant matters, leaving more weighty subjects to a council of elders, who, as a rule, administer justice with impartiality. Their laws are really good and sensible, and, though lenient, are based on the principle of the old Jewish law, the eye for the eye and the tooth for the tooth.

Marriages are managed in a very simple manner, the bride and bridegroom sitting opposite each other, in front of an idol, and the former giving the latter some betel-leaf and tobacco. His acceptance of the present, and taking the hand of the giver, constitute the whole of the ceremony.

The idol which has been mentioned is called the Karwar, and is found in every house except those which belong to Mohammedan natives. The Karwar is a wooden figure, about eighteen inches in height, large-headed, wide-mouthed, and long-nosed,--this peculiarity of the Papuan face being exaggerated. It is represented as holding a shield, and wearing a calico wrapper on the body and a handkerchief on the head.

The Karwar plays an important part in the life of a Dory native. It is present at his birth, takes part in his funeral, and, as we have seen, is witness to his marriage. In all cases of perplexity the Karwar is consulted, the devotee stating his intentions, and abandoning them if he should feel nervous, such a sensation being supposed to be the Karwar’s answer. There are plenty of fetishes, but these are only supplementary to the Karwar.

Without going into the details of the various tribes which inhabit this part of the earth, we will glance at a few of the most interesting customs.

These Papuans have a strong love for flowers, especially those which possess a powerful scent. They twine such flowers in their hair, weave them into garlands for their necks, and carry them in their bracelets and armlets.

They are fond of singing and music, and, as far as has been ascertained, are in the habit of composing extempore songs, as well as singing those ditties which they know by heart. As for their musical instruments, they consist chiefly of the cylindrical drum, a trumpet made of a triton shell, and a sort of Pandean pipe, composed of six or seven reeds of different lengths lashed firmly together. There is also a wind instrument, which is nothing but a bamboo tube some two feet in length.

Accompanied by these instruments, they perform their curious dances, one of which as been well described by Mr. M’Gillivray. “They advanced and retreated together by sudden jerks, beating to quick or short time as required, and chanting an accompanying song, the cadence rising and falling according to the action. The attitude was a singular one--the back straight, chin protruded, knees bent in a crouching position, and the arms advanced.

“On another occasion, one of the same men exhibited himself before us in a war dance. In one hand he held a large wooden shield, nearly three feet in length, and rather more than one in width, and in the other a formidable looking weapon, two feet in length--a portion of the snout of the sword-fish, with long, sharp teeth projecting on each side. Placing himself in a crouching attitude, with one hand covered by the shield, and holding his weapon in a position to strike, he advanced rapidly in a succession of short bounds, striking the inner side of his shield with his left knee at each jerk, causing the large cowries hung round his waist and ankles to rattle violently. At the same time, with fierce gestures, he loudly chanted a song of defiance. The remainder of the pantomime was expressive of attack and defence, and exultation after victory.

“But a still more curious dance was once performed a few nights ago by a party of natives who had left the ship after sunset, and landed abreast of the anchorage. On seeing a number of lights along the beach, we at first thought they proceeded from a fishing party, but on looking through a night-glass the group was seen to consist of above a dozen people, each carrying a blazing torch, and going through the movements of the dance. At one time they extended rapidly into line, at another closed, dividing into two parties, advancing and retreating, crossing and recrossing, and mixing up with each other. This continued for half an hour, and, it having apparently been got up for our amusement, a rocket was sent up for theirs, and a blue light burned, but the dancing had ceased, and the lights disappeared.”

An accompanying illustration represents this wild and curious scene. In the foreground are the dancers, each with his torch in his hand, and indulging in the grotesque movements of the dance. To the left are seen the musicians, one playing on the bamboo pipe, and the other beating the drum which has before been mentioned. One of these drums is lying in the foreground. It is a hollow cylinder of palm wood, about two feet in length and four inches in diameter. One end is covered with lizard-skin, and along the side there run longitudinal slits. The native name for this drum is “baiatú.”

The funeral ceremonies appear to differ according to the locality. Among the Dory people, when a man dies, the body is rolled in white calico, and laid on its side in a grave, its head resting on an earthenware dish. The weapons and ornaments of the dead man are laid in the grave, which is then filled up, and a thatched roof erected over it.

Should the deceased be a head of a family, the Karwar is brought to perform its last duties. When the man is buried, the Karwar is placed near the grave, and violently execrated by all the mourners for allowing its charge to die. The thatched roof being finished, the idol is laid upon it, and idol and roof are left to decay together. As is usual with savage tribes, funeral feasts are held at the time of burial and for some days afterward, those which celebrate the deaths of chiefs being kept up for a whole month.

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XCII. THE PHILIPPINE ISLANDS

THE AJITAS, OR AHITAS.

POSITION AND DIMENSIONS OF THE PHILIPPINE ISLANDS -- THE MALAYS AND THE NEGRITOS, OR AJITAS -- RESEMBLANCE TO THE BOSJESMAN -- THE BOW AND POISONED ARROWS -- SKILL IN ARCHERY -- THE SAVAGE INSTINCT -- MEETING A PARTY OF AJITAS -- THEIR APPEARANCE, AND CHIRPING SOUND OF THEIR LANGUAGE -- CONCILIATING THE ABORIGINES -- GOVERNMENT OF THE AJITAS -- THEIR ACTIVITY IN HUNTING -- NOMADIC PROPENSITIES OF THE AJITAS -- REVERENCE FOR THE DEAD -- A QUARREL, AND ITS CAUSE.

To the north-west of New Guinea lie several islands, which are grouped together under the general name of Philippines. They consist of a considerable number of islands, of which the northern island, called Luza, and the southern island, called Magindano, are by far the largest.

The inhabitants of the Philippines are of two kinds; namely, the Malays and the Negritos. The former are evidently not the aboriginal inhabitants, but have voyaged to the islands in their canoes and formed a number of settlements. As in the course of the work we shall see much of the Malay race, we will pass them by for the present, and only notice the Negritos, or little negroes, so called by the Spanish on account of their dark skins and small size.

This strange little race is mostly known by a name which is given in different forms. By some writers it is spelt Ajitas, by some Ahitas, and by others Itas. Of these different forms I select the first, which, by the way, is pronounced as if it were spelled Aheetas.

The Ajitas are quite as small as the Bosjesmans of Southern Africa, their average height being four feet six inches. They are well shaped, and their skins, though of a very dark hue, are not so black as those of the negro tribes. The features are tolerably good, except that the nose is broad and rather flat, and that there is a marked deficiency of chin. The hair is woolly, like that of other Papuans, and, as they do not know how to dress it, they wear it in a sort of mop round the head. The eyes are remarkable for a decided yellow tinge.

In common with other savages who lead an uncertain kind of life, fasting sometimes for two days together, and then gorging themselves like wolves, they are apt to have their limbs and projecting stomachs with a recurved back such as is the case with the Bosjesman, the back being bent like the letter S. Their shape is in no way concealed by their dress, which is nothing more than a wide belt of plaited bark fastened round the waist.

In many respects there is a great similarity between the Bosjesman and the Ajita. The latter live by the chase and by plunder, having no idea of agriculture. They always go armed, their weapons being bamboo lances and bows and arrows, the latter being poisoned. The effect of the poison with which they are tipped is to produce an unextinguishable thirst in the animal, which seeks the nearest water, drinks, and dies. As soon as it is dead, the hunter cuts away the flesh from around the wound, as the poison would otherwise communicate so bitter a taste to the whole carcass that the flesh could not be eaten.

Their bows are but slight, as are their arrows, the poison doing the work of death, and the depth of the wound being of no consequence. They are skilful archers, having the bow and arrow in their hands from infancy, and practising at any object that may take their attention. Both sexes use the bow, and the little boys and girls are fond of wading along the banks of streams and shooting the fish.

Like the Bosjesman, the Ajita is always at feud with the other races that inhabit the same country, and, small as he is, makes himself dreaded by reason of his poisoned weapons. Sometimes Ajitas are taken prisoners, and are generally enslaved. As they are light, active, and not bad-looking, they are often employed as servants by the dignitaries of Manilla.

One of these people was in the household of an Archbishop of Manilla, and was educated by him with great care. To all appearance he was thoroughly civilized, and at last was ordained priest. But the instincts of his savage nature were too strong for him, and the man escaped from his position and civilized society, threw off his garments, and rejoined his savage relatives. Such instances are continually occurring, and it is almost impossible to retain an Ajita in civilized society, no matter how well he may be treated, or how young he may be when captured.

The habits of the Ajitas are essentially of a savage character, and, as a rule, travellers in the Philippines are obliged to be very careful lest they should suddenly be set upon by these dangerous little creatures. Sometimes, however, they can be gentle, and even hospitable, and an instance of such conduct is related by M. de la Gironière, part of whose narrative has been translated and quoted by Mr. Earle: “We directed our course toward the north, among mountains always covered with thick forests, and which, like those we had just quitted, presented no traced route, excepting a few narrow pathways beaten by wild beasts. We advanced with caution, for we were now in the parts inhabited by the Ajitas. At night we concealed our fires, and one of us always acted as sentinel, for what we feared most was a surprise.

“One morning, while pursuing our way in silence, we heard before us a chorus of squeaking tones, which had more resemblance to the cries of birds than to the human voice. We kept on our ground, concealing our approach as much as possible with the aid of the trees and brambles. All at once we perceived at a little distance about forty savages, of all sexes and ages, who had absolutely the air of animals. They were on the banks of a rivulet, surrounding a great fire. We made several steps in advance, and presented the butt-end of our guns toward them. As soon as they perceived us, they set up shrill cries and prepared to take to flight; but I made signs to them, by showing them some packets of cigars, that we wished to offer them for their acceptance.

“I had fortunately received at Binangonan all the instructions necessary for knowing how to open a communication with them. As soon as they comprehended us, they ranged themselves into a line, like men preparing for a review; this was the signal that we might approach. We went up to them with our cigars in our hands, and I commenced distributing them from one extremity of the line. It was very important that we should make friends with them, and give each an equal share, according to their custom. The distribution being over, an alliance was cemented, and peace concluded, when they commenced smoking.

“A deer was hanging to a tree, from which the chief cut three large slices with a knife of bamboo, and threw them upon the fire, and, drawing them out an instant afterward, presented a piece to each of us. The exterior was slightly burned and sprinkled with ashes, but the interior was perfectly raw and bloody. It would not do, however, to show the repugnance I felt at making a repast scarcely better than that of a cannibal, for my hosts would have been scandalized, and I wished to live in good correspondence with them for some days. I therefore ate my piece of venison, which, after all, was not ill flavored, and my Indian having followed my example, our good repute was established, and treason on their part no longer possible.”

M. de la Gironière showed his wisdom in accommodating himself to circumstances, and in sacrificing his own predilections in favor of expediency; and if all travellers had acted in a similar manner, we should have known much more of savage manners and customs than we do at the present time. After propitiating his little black hosts by tact and kindness, he remained among them for some time, and by means of an interpreter, whom he was fortunate enough to obtain, continued to procure a considerable amount of information concerning a people of whom scarcely anything had been previously known since their existence.

The Ajitas live in small tribes, consisting of some fifty or sixty individuals. They have no fixed residence, but wander about the country according to the amount of game which they find. They have not the least notion of house-building, and in this respect are even below the aborigines of Australia, and at night they crowd round the fire and lie as close to it as possible. This fire is the central point of the tribe, the old people and children assembling round it during the day while the adults are hunting for game; and if the hunters should be able to bring in enough food to last for some days, they remain round the fire until it is all consumed.

There seems to be no particular form of government among the Ajitas, who always choose one of the oldest men to be the chief of each little tribe, and do not acknowledge any principal chief or king. Age is respected among them, and in this point the Ajitas show their superiority over many savage tribes. The language of the Ajitas is said to resemble the chirping of birds rather than the voice of mankind, but it must be remembered that the same was said of the Bosjesmen’s language when European travellers first came among them. Any language which is heard for the first time affects the ear unpleasantly, and even those of Europe are generally stigmatized by foreigners as gabbling or grunting, according to the pitch of the voice. Of the structure of the Ajitas’ language nothing is yet known.

In one point they are superior to many savage people. A man has but one wife, and both are faithful in the married state. When a young man wishes to marry, he asks the consent of her parents, who, on a fixed day, send her into the woods alone before sunrise, and after an hour the young man goes after her. If he can find her, and bring her back before sunset, the marriage is acknowledged; but if he cannot succeed in his search, he must yield all claims to her. It will be seen that the real choice lies with the girl, who can always conceal herself if she dislikes the intended bridegroom, or, even if he did find her, could refuse to come back with him until the stipulated time has passed.

The religion of the Ajitas seems to be, as far as can be ascertained on a subject from which a savage always shrinks, a mere fetishism; any object, such as an oddly-shaped tree trunk or stone, being worshipped for a day, and then forsaken in favor of some other idol.

Any real reverence in the nature of the Ajitas seems to be given to the dead, whom they hold in veneration. Year after year they will resort to the burial-places of their friends for the purpose of laying betel-nut and tobacco upon the grave. Over each spot where a warrior is buried his bow and arrows are hung, the Ajitas having an idea that at night the man leaves his grave, and hunts until the morning. Owing to this reverence for the dead, M. de la Gironière’s expedition nearly came to a fatal termination. They had succeeded in procuring a skeleton from the burial-place, when the theft was discovered by the Ajitas, who at once set upon them, and fairly chased them out of their country, the poisoned arrows proving to be weapons too formidable to be resisted, especially when used by foes as active as monkeys, who could pour their arrows on their foes, while they scarcely exposed an inch of their little dark bodies to the enemy.

It is owing to another form of this veneration for the dead that travellers have so often come in collision with the Ajitas. When a warrior dies, his companions are bound to take their weapons and roam through the country, for the purpose of killing the first living thing that they meet, whether man or beast. As they pass along, they break the boughs in a peculiar manner as warnings to others, for even one of their own tribe would be sacrificed if he fell in their way. Travellers from other countries would either fail to see, or, if they saw, to understand, the meaning of these little broken twigs, and in consequence have been attacked by the Ajitas, not from any unfriendly feelings, but in fulfilment of a national custom.

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XCIII. FIJI

APPEARANCE AND DRESS OF THE FIJIANS.

POSITION OF THE FIJI ISLANDS -- GENERAL APPEARANCE OF THE NATIVES -- THEIR PECULIAR HAIR, AND VARIOUS MODES OF DRESSING IT -- HAIR-DYES -- THE FIJIAN MIRROR -- WIG-MAKING -- THE AMBASSADOR AND HIS MESSAGE -- THE FIJIAN TURBAN -- WATER-PROOF HEADDRESSES -- DRESS OF THE FIJIANS -- THE “MASI,” AND METHOD OF WEARING IT -- EAR-ORNAMENTS -- NECKLACES AND FLOWERS -- TATTOOING AND PAINT -- PATTERNS USED FOR THE FACE -- DRESS OF THE WOMEN -- THE ROUGHNESS OF THE SKIN AND USE OF PAINT -- HAIR-DRESSING -- MAKING MASI AND MODE OF PRODUCING PATTERNS -- INGENIOUS MODE OF STENCILLING -- THE WOMAN’S APRON, OR “LIKU,” AND MODE OF WEARING IT.

To describe the inhabitants of all the multitudinous islands of Polynesia would be an agreeable, but impossible task, our space confining us within limits which may not be transgressed. We will therefore pass at once to the large and important group of islands which is popularly known by the name of FIJI.

This group of islands lies due north of New Zealand, and to the eastward of New Guinea, so that they are just below the Equator. The collective name of the islands has been variously given, such as Fiji, Beetee, Feegee, Fidge, Fidschi, Vihi, and Viti. Of all these names, the first and the last are correct, the northern portion of the islands being known as Fiji, and the southern as Viti. The reader must remember that these names are pronounced as if written Feegee and Veetee.

The inhabitants of Fiji are a fine race of savages, tolerably well formed, and with dark, though not black skin. Like other Papuans, they are remarkable for their thick, bushy hair, which they dress in a singular variety of patterns. As the appearance and costume of savage races are the first points which strike a stranger, we will at once proceed to describe them.

The most conspicuous part of a Fijian’s general appearance is his headdress, in the arrangement of which he gives the reins to his fancy, and invents the most extraordinary variations of form and color. Examples of the Fijian headdress will be seen in most of the illustrations. But as it would be tedious to describe them as they occur, I will mention a few of the most prominent varieties.

The hair of the Papuan race is always stiff, wiry, and plentiful, and grows to a considerable length; so that it necessarily assumes a bushy form if suffered to grow according to its own will. The Fijian, however, thinks that nature is to be improved by art, and accordingly lavishes all the resources of a somewhat artistic character on his hair. To train the hair into any of the graceful and flowing methods which distinguish those soft-haired races would be utterly impossible for a Fijian. He goes on quite the opposite principle, and, true to real artistic feeling, tries to develop to the utmost those characteristics which rightly belong to him, instead of endeavoring to produce effects which would not be consonant with their surroundings.

The principle on which a Fijian coiffure is arranged is, that every hair is presumed to grow naturally at right angles to the skin, and to stand out stiffly and boldly. Supposing, then, that each hair could be induced to follow its own course, without being entangled by others, it is evident that the whole head of hair would form a large globular mass, surrounding the face. It is, therefore, the business of the Fijian hair-dresser to accept this as the normal form of the hair, and to change or modify it as he thinks best.

It is impossible to describe the various modes of Fijian hair-dressing better than has been done by Mr. Williams, who resided in Fiji for thirteen years. “Most of the chiefs have a hair-dresser, to whose care his master’s hair is intrusted, often demanding daily attention, and at certain stages of progress requiring several hours’ labor each day. During all this time, the operator’s hands are tapu from touching his food, but not from working in his garden.

“The hair is strong, and often quite wiry, and so dressed that it will retain the position in which it is placed, even when projecting from the head a distance of six or eight inches. One stranger, on seeing their performance in this department, exclaims, ‘What astonishing wigs!’ another thinks, ‘Surely the beau idéal of hair-dressing must exist in Fiji;’ a third, ‘Their heads surpass imagination.’” No wonder, then, that they defy description.

“Whatever may be said about the appearance being unnatural, the best coiffures have a surprising and almost geometrical accuracy of outline, combined with a round softness of surface and uniformity of dye which display extraordinary care, and merit some praise. They seem to be carved out of some solid substance, and are variously colored. Jet-black, blue-black, ashy white, and several shades of red prevail. Among young people, bright red and flaxen are in favor. Sometimes two or more colors meet on the same head. Some heads are finished, both as to shape and color, nearly like an English counsellor’s wig.

“In some, the hair is a spherical mass of jet black hair, with a white roll in front, as broad as the hand; or, in lieu of this, a white, oblong braid occupies the length of the forehead, the black passing down on either side. In each case the black projects further than the white hair. Some heads have all the ornamentation behind, consisting of a cord of twisted coils, ending in tassels. In others, the cords give place to a large red roll or a sandy projection falling on the neck. On one head, all the hair is of one uniform length, but one-third in front is ashy or sandy, and the rest black, a sharply defined separation dividing the two colors.

“Not a few are so ingeniously grotesque as to appear as if done purposely to excite laughter. One has a large knot of fiery hair on his crown, all the rest of the head being bald. Another has the most of his hair cut away, leaving three or four rows of small clusters, as if his head were planted with small paint brushes. A third has his head bare, except where a black patch projects over each temple. One, two, or three cords of twisted hair often fall from the right temple, a foot or eighteen inches long. Some men wear a number of these braids so as to form a curtain at the back of the neck, reaching from one ear to the other.

“A mode that requires great care has the hair wrought into distinct locks, radiating from the head. Each lock is a perfect cone, about seven inches in length, having the base outward, so that the surface of the hair is marked out into a great number of small circles, the ends being turned in, in each lock, toward the centre of the cone. In another kindred style, the locks are pyramidal, the sides and angles of each being as regular as though formed of wood. All round the head they look like square black blocks, the upper tier projecting horizontally from the crown, and a flat space being left at the top of the head. When the hair, however, is not more than four inches long, this flat does not exist, but the surface consists of a regular succession of squares or circles. The violent motions of the dance do not disturb these elaborate preparations, but great care is taken to preserve them from the effects of the dew or rain.”

Whenever the Fijian desires to know whether his headdress is in proper order, he has recourse to his mirror. This is not a portable, but a fixed article of manufacture, and is necessarily situated in the open air. When the native sees a large tree with a sloping trunk, he cuts in the upper part of the trunk several deep hollows, and arranges the leaves of the tree so that the water from the foliage drips into them, and keeps them full. These are his mirrors, and by their aid he examines his hair, sees if the outline be quite correct, and, if he be dissatisfied, arranges it with his long-handled comb, and then replaces the comb in his mop of a head, carefully sticking it over one ear as a soldier does his forage cap.

Not content with having the hair plaited and frizzed out as has already been described, many of the Fijians wear great wigs over their own hair, thus increasing the size of their heads to the most inordinate dimensions. The natives are excellent wig-makers and, as their object is not to imitate nature, but to produce as fantastic an effect as possible, it is evident that the result of their labor is often very ludicrous. As is the case with their own hair, they dye these wigs of various colors, red and white being the favorite hues.

Three examples of these curious headdresses are shown in illustration No. 1, on preceding page, which represents an ambassador delivering a message from his chief to some man of consequence. Savages such as these have no idea of writing, but, lest they should forget the various terms of their message, they have recourse to a simple memoria technica, consisting of a bundle of sticks, no two being of the same length.

Each of these sticks answers to one of the terms of the message, which is repeated once or twice to the ambassador, who reckons them over on his sticks. When he delivers his message, he unties the bundle, selects the sticks in their order, and, laying them down in succession, delivers the message without a mistake.

In the illustration, the principal figure represents the ambassador, the others being his attendants. He has laid down several of the sticks, and is delivering the message belonging to one of them, while he is holding the rest in his left hand. His headdress is of that remarkable kind which consists of a number of conical locks of hair--a fashion which denotes a man of rank, as no other could afford to have such a coiffure kept in order. The man seated next to the ambassador has his hair in two colors, the greater part being dark and frizzed out from the head, while a couple of rolls of a lighter hue pass over the forehead. The central figure exhibits a favorite mode of hair-dressing, in which the hair is clipped very short, except in certain spots, in which it is allowed to grow, so as to form a series of brush-like tufts.

Men of consequence mostly protect their enormous mops of hair by a sort of thin turban, which is wrapped round them. The turban is made of a piece of very delicate bark cloth, or masi, nearly as thin as gauze, and perfectly white. It is sometimes six feet in length, but varies according to the quantity of hair. It is twisted round the head in different fashions, but is mostly fastened by a bow on the forehead, or on the top of the head. Several examples of the turban will be seen in the course of the following pages. Men of rank often wear the masi of such length that the ends fall down behind like a scarf.

In order to preserve their hair from being displaced by rain, they use a waterproof covering of their own invention. This is a young banana leaf, which is heated over a fire, and then becomes as thin, transparent, and impervious to water as oiled silk. The light turban offers no protection whatever, being soaked as easily as tissue paper, which it somewhat resembles.

Material similar to that which is worn on the head is used for the dress. The masi which is employed for this purpose is mostly from twenty to thirty feet in length, though a wealthy man will sometimes wear a masi of nearly three hundred feet long. In this case, it is made of very delicate material. It is put on in a very simple manner, part being wound round the loins, and the rest passed under the legs and tucked into the belt, so as to hang as low as the knees in front, and to fall as low as possible behind. A wealthy man will often have his masi trailing far behind him like a train. This is all the dress which a Fiji man needs. Clothing as a protection from the weather is needless, owing to the geniality of the climate, and the masi is worn simply as a matter of fashion.

Ornaments are worn in great profusion, and are of the kinds which seem dear to all savage races. Ear ornaments of portentous size are worn by the inhabitants of Fiji, some of them stretching the lobe to such an extent that a man’s two fists could be placed in the opening. The Fijians also wear breast ornaments, very similar in shape and appearance to the large dibbi-dibbi which is worn by the Northern Australians, and has evidently been borrowed from the Papuan race. Any glittering objects can be made into necklaces, which often combine the most incongruous objects, such as European beads, bits of tortoise-shell, dogs’ teeth, bats’ jaws, and the like.

Flowers are plentifully worn by the Fijian, who keeps up a constant supply of these natural ornaments, weaving them into strings and chaplets, and passing them, like belts, over one shoulder and under the other. In the illustration on page 937th, which represents the payment of taxes, several girls are seen adorned with these garlands.

Tattooing is almost entirely confined to the women, and even in them is but little seen, the greater part of the patterns being covered by the liku or fringe apron. When young, the women usually tattoo their fingers with lines and stars in order to make them look ornamental as they present food to the chief, and, after they become mothers, they add a blue patch at each corner of the mouth. The operation is a painful one, though not so torturing as that which is employed in New Zealand, the pattern being made by the punctures of a sharp-toothed instrument, and not by the edge of a chisel driven completely through the skin.

Paint is used very largely, the three principal colors being black, white, and red. With these three tints they contrive to produce a variety of effect on their faces, that is only to be rivalled by the fancy displayed in their hair-dressing. Sometimes the face is all scarlet with the exception of the nose, which is black, and sometimes the face is divided like a quartered heraldic shield, and painted red and black, or white, red, and black in the different quarterings. Some men will have one side of the face black and the other white, while others paint their countenances black as far as the nose, and finish them off with white.

Reversing the first-mentioned pattern, the Fijian dandy will occasionally paint his face black and his nose red, or will have a black face, a white nose, a scarlet ring round each eye, and a white crescent on the forehead. Sometimes he will wear a white face covered with round scarlet spots like those on a toy horse; or will substitute for the round spots a large patch on each cheek and another round the mouth, just like the face of a theatrical clown.

Some very curious effects are produced by lines. A white face with a single broad black stripe from the forehead to the chin has a very remarkable appearance, and so has a face of which one side is painted longitudinally with black stripes on a white ground, and the other half with transverse stripes of the same colors. A similar pattern is sometimes produced with black upon red. Perhaps the oddest of all the patterns is formed by painting the face white, and upon the white drawing a number of undulating lines from the forehead downward, the lines crossing each other so as to form a sort of rippling network over the face.

So much for the dress of the men. That of the women is different in every way. Though possessing the same kind of stiff, wiry, profuse hair as the men, they do not trouble themselves to weave it into such fantastic designs, but mostly content themselves with combing it out so as to project as far as possible on every side. Sometimes they twist it into a series of locks, which are allowed to fall on the head merely at random, like the thrums of a mop.

Paint is employed by them as by the men, though not with such profusion. Scarlet seems to be their favorite color in paint, and to this predilection Mr. Pickering was indebted for opportunities of ascertaining by touch the peculiar roughness of the Papuan skin. The Fijians, an essentially ceremonious and punctilious people, will not allow themselves to be handled, and Mr. Pickering was rather perplexed as to the means of ascertaining whether this roughness belonged to the race, or whether it were only a peculiarity belonging to individuals. The love of scarlet paint here came to his assistance. The vermilion prepared by European art was so much superior to the pigments of Fiji, that the natives were only too glad to have so brilliant a color put on their faces and bodies. Accordingly men and women, old and young, pressed forward to have a little vermilion rubbed on them, and the mothers, after having their own faces painted, held out their infants to participate in the same benefit.

The native cloth, or masi, which has already been mentioned, is made from the inner bark of the malo tree, and is manufactured in a simple and ingenious manner.

As at the present day English fabrics are largely imported into Fiji, and are rapidly supplanting the delicate and becoming native manufactures, the art of making the masi will soon become extinct in Fiji, as has been the case in other islands where Europeans have gained a footing. I shall therefore devote a few lines to the description of its manufacture.

The natives cut off the bark in long strips, and soak them in water for some time, until the inner bark can be separated from the outer, an operation which is performed with the edge of a shell. After it has been removed from the coarse outer bark, it is kept in water so as to preserve it in the necessary state of moisture; and when a sufficient quantity is collected, the operation of beating it begins.

Masi is beaten upon a log of wood flattened on the upper surface, and so arranged as to spring a little with the blows of the mallet. This tool does not resemble our mallet with a handle and a head, but is simply a piece of wood about fourteen inches in length and two in thickness, rounded at one end so as to form a handle, and squared for the remainder of its length. Three sides of this mallet, or iki, as it is called, are covered with longitudinal grooves, while the fourth side is left plain. Those specimens that I have seen have the sides not quite flat, but very slightly convex, perhaps by use, perhaps rounded intentionally. A masi maker has several of these mallets, sometimes as many as six or seven, each having some difference in the fluting, and with them she contrives to produce a fabric that has all the effect of woven linens among ourselves, the pattern being incorporated with the material.

There are in my collection several specimens of masi, one of which is singularly beautiful. It is thin, snowy white, and soft as silk, and, even at a distance, must have looked very graceful when wrapped round the dark body of a Fijian warrior. But it is only on a closer examination that the real beauty of the fabric is displayed. Instead of merely beating the masi after the usual fashion, so as to impress upon it the longitudinal grooves of the mallet, the native manufacturer has contrived to change the position of her mallet at every blow, so as to produce a zigzag pattern on the fabric, very much like the well-known Greek pattern of European decorators. It is beautifully regular, and, when the fabric is held up to the light, looks like the water mark in paper.

The plasticity of the malo bark is really wonderful. A strip of two inches in length can be beaten to the width of eighteen inches, its length being slightly reduced as the width increases. As the material is very thin and flimsy, a single piece being, when beaten out, no thicker than tissue paper, two or more pieces are usually laid on each other and beaten so as to form a single thickness, the natural gluten which this material contains being sufficient to unite them as if they had been one piece. Some specimens of their larger mantles, now in my collection, are as thick as stout brown paper, and very much tougher, appearing both to the eye and the touch as if made of leather.

When a large masi has to be made, many lengths of the bark are united to each other, the ends being soaked in arrowroot starch, laid carefully over each other, and then subjected to the mallet, which forces the two pieces of bark to unite as if they were one substance, and does not exhibit the least trace of the junction. As I have already mentioned, some of these masis are of very great length. Mr. Williams measured one which was for the use of the king on festival days, and found its length to be five hundred and forty feet. Many of the large, and at the same time thin masis, are used as mosquito curtains, and in that case are decorated with patterns of dusky red and black. The patterns generally commence at the centre, and are gradually extended toward the edges. The mode of making these patterns is well described by Mr. Williams:--

“Upon a convex board, several feet long, are arranged parallel, at about a finger’s width apart, thin straight strips of bamboo, a quarter of an inch wide; and by the side of these, curved pieces, formed of the mid-rib of cocoa-nut leaflets, are arranged. Over the board thus prepared the cloth is laid, and rubbed over with a dye obtained from the lauci (Aleurites triloba). The cloth, of course, takes the dye upon those parts which receive pressure, being supported by the strips beneath, and thus shows the same pattern in the color employed. A stronger preparation of the same dye, laid on with a sort of brush, is used to divide the squares into oblong compartments, with large round or radiated dots in the centre. The kesa, or dye, when good, dries bright.

“Blank borders, two or three feet wide, are still left on each side of the square, and to elaborate the ornamentation of these so as to excite applause is the pride of every Fijian lady. There is now an entire change of apparatus. The operator works on a plain board; the red dye gives place to a jet black; her pattern is now formed by a strip of banana leaf placed on the upper surface of the cloth. Out of the leaf is cut the pattern, not more than an inch long, which she wishes to print upon the border, and holds by her first and middle finger, pressing it down with the thumb. Then, taking in her right hand a soft pad of cloth steeped in dye, she rubs it firmly over the stencil, and a fair, sharp figure is made.

“The practised fingers of the women move quickly, but it is after all a tedious process. In the work above described, the Lakemba women excel. On the island of Matuku very pretty curtains are made, but the pattern is large, and covers the entire square, while the spaces between the black lines are filled in with red and yellow.”

We now pass to the liku, or fringed girdle of the women. This is made of various materials, and much trouble is usually expended in its manufacture. The ordinary likus are little more than a number of slight thongs fixed to a belt, and allowed to hang down for several inches. When worn, it is passed round the waist and tied, not behind, but on one side, and on festivals the bark cord by which it is fastened is allowed to hang so low that it often trails on the ground as the wearer walks along.

The thongs are made of the bark of a species of hibiscus, called by the natives vau, and used for many purposes, of long flexible roots like that of the cascus grass, and of different grasses. One kind of liku which is rather fashionable, is made of a vegetable parasite, called by the natives waloa. The thongs of this liku are not thicker than, packthread, and when fresh, are as flexible as silk. In process of time, however, they become brittle, and are apt to break. The color of this material is deep glossy black.

There are in my collection two specimens of the liku, one of them being made of the fashionable waloa. The other is the common liku. It is made of split grass, the blades of which are more than three feet in length. In order to make them into the garment they have been doubled, and the loops woven into a narrow plaited belt of the same material. The better kind of likus are, however, made with far greater care than is bestowed on this article. There is but little difference in the thongs, the chief labor being bestowed on the belt. In some cases the belt of the liku is four inches in width, and is plaited into elegant patterns, plaiting being an art in which the natives excel.

In general shape the liku never varies, being worn by girls and women alike. As long as a girl is unmarried, she wears a liku the fringe of which is not more than three inches in depth, and the whole article is so scanty that when tied round the waist the ends do not meet at the hips by several inches. As soon as the girl is married, she changes her liku in token of her new rank, and wears a garment with a fringe that reaches half-way to her knees, and which entirely surrounds the body. After she has become a mother, she wears an apron which quite reaches to the knees, and sometimes falls below them.

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XCIV. FIJI--Continued

MANUFACTURES.

MAT MAKING -- SAILS FOR THE CANOES -- FLOOR MATS AND BEDDING -- ROPE AND STRING -- SINNET AND ITS VARIOUS USES -- THE NETTING NEEDLE AND MESH -- FANS AND SUNSHADES -- THE ORATOR’S FLAPPER -- BASKET WORK -- FIJIAN POTTERY, AND NATIVE ART -- POTTERY RESTRICTED TO THE WOMEN -- THEIR SIMPLE TOOLS AND IMPERFECT MATERIALS -- MODE OF “FIRING” THE VESSELS -- GLAZING THE WATER VESSELS -- FIJIAN FISHERMEN -- VARIOUS KINDS OF NETS, AND MODES OF USING THEM -- THE TURTLE FISHERY -- A BOLD DIVER -- CONTRACTORS FOR TURTLE -- MODES OF CATCHING THE REPTILE -- A “HEAD” OF TURTLE AND ITS VALUE -- DANGERS OF THE FISHERY -- FIJIAN CANOES, AND MODE OF MANAGING THEM -- BUILDING CANOES -- INGENIOUS METHOD OF JOINING THE PLANKS -- TONGA CARPENTERS -- THE FIJIANS INFERIOR SAILORS TO THE TONGANS -- FIJIAN TRADERS.

Mats of various kinds are made by the women, and they display as much ingenuity in mat-making as in the manufacture of masi. Mats are employed for many purposes. The sails of the Fijian canoes are always made of matting, which is woven in lengths and then sewed together afterward, just as is the case with our own canvas sails. The width of the strips varies from two to four feet, and their length from three to a hundred yards. On an average, however, the usual length of these strips is twenty feet, that being the ordinary length of a sail. Sail mats are necessarily rather coarse, and are made from the leaf of the cocoa-nut palm.

Then there are floor-mats, which are used as carpets in the houses. These vary in size according to the dimensions of the house, but twenty feet by sixteen is a very ordinary measurement. They are generally adorned with a border or pattern round the edges, this border being about six inches wide, and often decorated with feathers and scraps of any colored material that can be procured. Mats of a similar character, but much finer texture, are used as bedding; the best kind, which is called ono, being of a very fine texture.

The native love of ornament is in no way better displayed than in their rope and string making. The best rope is formed from several strands of sinnet. This is a sort of plait made from the fibre of the cocoa-nut. The fibre is carefully removed from the nut, baked, and combed out like wool. Cordage is made by twisting sinnet together, and some of the Fijian cords are nearly as thick as a cable, and possessed of extraordinary elasticity and strength. The sinnet is used in a great variety of offices, houses being built and the planks of the canoes tied together with this most useful material.

When made, the sinnet is made into great rolls, some of them being of gigantic dimensions. Mr. Williams saw one which was twelve feet long, and nearly seven feet in diameter. These rolls are differently shaped, and each shape is known by its own name, such as the double cone, the plain hank, the oval ball, the honeycomb ball, and the variegated roll. These rolls are given as presents, and offered to the chiefs as tribute, together with other property. In the large illustration on page 937, which represents a tax-paying scene, one or two of these rolls are shown.

Sinnet is the favorite material for net making, but as it is costly, nets are often constructed of the hibiscus bark. Another material is a sort of creeper named yaka, which is steeped in water to dissolve the green matter, then scraped to clean the fibres, and, lastly, twisted into strings. It is remarkable that the netting needle and mesh are exactly similar to those which are employed by ourselves, and the same may be said of the mesh and needle of the Esquimaux.

The same ingenuity in plaiting which is expended in the making and rolling of sinnet asserts itself in various other manufactures, such as basket and fan making. In the latter art the Fijian excels, and, as the fan is almost as important to the Fijian as to the Japanese, much play of fancy is exhibited in fan making. Dissimilar as are these fans in shape, there is always a sort of character about them which denotes their origin to a practised eye.

I have a specimen in my collection, which is a very good type of the Fijian fan. It is two feet in length, and rather more than a foot broad in the widest part. The handle is made of cocoa-nut wood, and extends nearly to the end of the fan, so as to form a support through its entire length. It is fastened to the fan by double bands of the finest and most beautifully plaited sinnet. The material of which the fan is composed is cocoa-nut leaf, divided into doubled strips about the third of an inch in width near the base of the fan, and gradually decreasing toward its tip. A strong band of the same material runs round the edges of the fan, and the two ends of this band are secured to the handle by the same sinnet as has been just mentioned.

Such a fan as this is employed rather as a sunshade or parasol than a fan, and is held over the head when the owner happens to be seated in the sunshine. It is very light, and is really a much more efficient implement than its appearance intimates.

The form of the fan is exceedingly variable. Sometimes they are triangular, with the handle projecting from one of the angles, and sometimes they are square, but with the handle passing diagonally across them. Various modifications of the battledoor are in much favor, and there is one form which almost exactly resembles that of the Japanese handscreen.

It is rather remarkable that the aborigines of tropical America, such as the Caribs, the Accowais, and the like, make fans of precisely similar material and structure, except that the handle is not separately made of wood, but is formed from the ends of the leaf-strips of which the implement is made.

There is another curious article of manufacture which is properly Fijian, but extends through several of the Polynesian group. It is the orator’s flapper, which the native holds in his hand while he speaks in council. An engraving showing its form is given on the 949th page. The handle is carved into various patterns, and mostly, though not invariably, is terminated by a rude representation of a couple of human figures seated back to back. Sometimes the entire handle is covered with sinnet, plaited in the most delicate patterns, as none but a Fijian can plait. The tuft at the end is formed of cocoa-nut fibre, which has first been soaked in water, next rolled round a small twig, and then dried. When it is unwound from the stick, it has a crisp, wrinkled appearance, very like that of the Fijian’s hair, and is probably intended to imitate it. In the specimens of my collection, some have sinnet-covered handles, and some carved handles, while some have the tuft black, and others sandy red, just as is the case with the hair of the natives.

In their basket making, the Fijians are equally lavish of their artistic powers, weaving them in patterns of such elaborate intricacy as to put the best European makers to shame, and then, as if not satisfied with the amount of work bestowed upon them, covering all the edges with sinnet, braided into really artistic patterns.

Indeed, the Fijians are born artists. Their work, although sometimes grotesque, is always artistic, because always appropriate. They carry this feeling of art into the material whose plasticity allows the greatest freedom of manipulation; namely, earthenware. Some of the vessels which are intended for cooking are quite plain, while others which are made for other purposes are of elegant shape, and covered with ornaments. Mr. Williams suggests, with much probability, that the cooking pots are made in imitation of the cells of a species of black bee which inhabits the Fiji group of islands.

Several specimens of Fijian pottery are in the British Museum. As examples of intuitive art they are far superior in outline and ornament to the generality of decorated earthenware in civilized countries. A conventional imitation of nature is the principle which is employed by the Fijian potters, who find their chief patterns in flowers, leaves, and fruits, thus obtaining the most graceful curves, joined to great certainty and precision of outline.

Rude as is the manipulation of the potter, and coarse as is the material, the design of the vessel is sure to be bold and vigorous, putting to shame the feeble prettiness with which we are too familiar in this country. Going to nature for their models, the Fijian potters display a wonderful power, fertility, and originality of design. In any country, an artist who really studies nature is sure to produce works that are fresh and original; and in a country like Fiji, which is within the tropics, and in which the magnificent vegetation of the tropics springs up in luxuriant profusion, it is likely that an artist, however rude he may be, who studies in such a school, will produce works of genuine merit.

The art of pottery is confined to the women, and is practically restricted to the wives and daughters of fishermen. The material employed by them is a red or blue clay mixed with sand, and their implements are merely an annular cushion, a flat stone, one or two wooden scrapers, a round stone to hold against the inside of the vessel, and a sharp stick. They have no wheel: and yet, in spite of such disadvantages, they contrive to produce vessels so true in outline, that few persons, unless they are practically acquainted with pottery, could believe that they were merely rounded by the eye.

The shapes of nearly all the vessels are very elegant, as is likely to be the case from the models employed by the maker. They are often wonderfully elaborate specimens of workmanship. Permanently covered vessels, with a hole in the lid, are very common, and Mr. Williams saw one jar as large as a hogshead, that was furnished with four openings for the purpose of filling and emptying it rapidly. The most remarkable examples are the compound vessels, several being united together at the point where they touch, and further connected by arched handles. In some cases, even the handles are hollow, and have an opening at the top, so that the vessels can be filled or emptied through them. This compound form has lately been copied by Europeans.

Considering the amount of labor and artistic skill which is given to pottery, it is a pity that the natives are not better off for material and firing. The material is very coarse, and the very imperfect mode of baking fails to give to the vessels the hard and almost imperishable quality which distinguishes properly prepared earthenware.

After the vessels have been shaped, and the decorative patterns traced on them with a sharp stick, they are placed on the ground close together, but not touching each other, and covered with a quantity of dried leaves, grass, reeds, and similar materials. The pile is then lighted, and when it has burned itself out the baking is supposed to be finished. Those pots that are to be glazed are rubbed, while still hot, with kawri, the same resin which has already been mentioned in the account of New Zealand.

* * * * *

As may be expected in an island population, the Fijians are expert fishermen, and employ various means of securing their prey. Nets, weighted at one edge with shells and floated at the other with pieces of light wood, are much used; and so are the hook, the creel, and the weir. In some places a very remarkable net, or rather an imitation of a net, called the rau, is used. To the long, flexible stems of creepers are fastened a quantity of split cocoa-nut leaves, so as to make a fringe of considerable depth and very great length, one of these raus sometimes measuring nearly ten thousand feet from one end to the other.

When completed, the rau is taken out to sea and thrown into the water, the ends being attached to canoes, which stretch it to a straight line. They then make for a small bay, across which the rau can be drawn, and then capture all the fish by smaller nets or spears. Sometimes they do not trouble themselves to return to the shore, but bring the net round in a circle, the fish being so afraid of the leafy fringe that they avoid it, and keep themselves in the middle of the toils.

The principal use of the net is, however, in turtle fishing, a sport which may be almost called an art. The turtle fishers supply themselves with sinnet nets, some ten feet in width, and one or two hundred yards in length. While the turtle are feeding upon the shore, the fishermen carry out the net and shoot it to seaward, so that when the turtle returns to the sea after feeding, it is sure to be intercepted by the net, which has large meshes, in order to entangle the flippers of the reptile.

When the fishermen feel that the turtle is fairly caught, they proceed to get it on board, a task of very great difficulty and some danger, inasmuch as the turtle is in its own element, and the men are obliged to dive and conduct their operations under water. The most active diver tries to seize the end of one of the fore-flippers, and pulls it violently downward, knowing that the instinctive desire to rid itself of the inconvenience will cause the reptile to rise. Of course the diver can only retain his hold for a limited time, but as soon as he rises to the surface for breath another takes his place. Should the turtle be a vicious one, as is often the case, one of the divers grasps it across the head, fixing his finger and thumb in the sockets of the eyes, so as to prevent the creature from doing mischief.

Finding itself thus hampered, the turtle rises to the surface, when it is seized by the other fishermen who are in the canoe, hauled on board, and laid on its back, in which position it is utterly helpless. The successful fishermen then blow loud blasts of triumph on their conch-shell trumpets, and bring their prize to land.

In consequence of the number of men who are employed in this pursuit, the men almost invariably fish in parties, who are engaged by some individual. Sometimes they are the servants of a chief, and fish on his account, all the captured turtles belonging to him, but the fishermen always receive a present of some kind when they have been successful. Should the fishers be free men, they hire themselves, their nets, and canoe to some one who will pay the regular price, for which they are bound to make ten expeditions. Should they be entirely unsuccessful, they get nothing, but each time that they bring a turtle ashore they receive a present from the hirer, who is obliged, after the completion of the fishing, to give the men a handsome present. Sometimes several turtles are taken in a single day; but the business is a very precarious one, even the best fishermen returning day after day without catching a single turtle.

Some of the modes of catching the turtle are very ingenious. When the men have no net, they chase the reptile as they best can, keeping the shadow of the sail just behind it so as to frighten it, and keep it continually on the move. They will pursue it in this way for a long time, until the creature is so exhausted that it can be captured by a few divers without the aid of a net. When brought home, the turtles are kept in pens and killed as wanted.

Although the flesh of the turtle is highly esteemed, and the green fat is appreciated nearly as much as in England, the chief value of the turtle lies in its shell, the thirteen plates of which are called a “head,” and sold to the traders by weight. A “head” weighing three pounds is a fair one, a head that weighs four pounds is exceptionally good, while one that exceeds five pounds is hardly ever seen.

The dangers that beset the turtle fishery are many. Chief among them is the shark, which is very plentiful on these coasts, and which is equally fond of men and turtle, so that when it sees a turtle entangled in the net it makes an attack, and is as likely to take off the limb of one of the divers as to seize the reptile. Another fertile source of danger lies in the structure of the coral reefs, which form the principal shores of these islands. They are full of hollows and crannies, and it sometimes happens that a diver becomes entangled in them, and is not able to extricate himself in time to save his life.

As the canoes return home after turtle fishing, the women come down to the shore and meet them. Should the expedition be successful, the men return with songs and shouts of triumph, as if they were bringing home the bodies of slain foes, on which occasion, as we shall presently see, a scene of horrid rejoicing takes place. Should they be unsuccessful, they return in sad silence.

In the former case, the women welcome the successful fishermen with songs and dances, and sometimes become rather rough in the exuberance of their delight. Mr. Williams once witnessed an amusing scene, in which the women brought a quantity of bitter oranges down to the shore, and when the fishermen were about to land, pelted them so mercilessly that the men were in self-defence obliged to drive their aggressors off the beach.

As the canoe has so often been mentioned in connection with fishing, it will be now described. In principle it resembles the form which prevails among the great Polynesian group, though in detail it differs from many of the ordinary vessels. All the canoes possess modifications of the outrigger, but the best example is the double canoe, where two boats are placed side by side in such a manner that one of them acts as the outrigger and the other as the canoe.

If the reader will refer to illustration No. 2, on the 924th page, he will be able to understand the general appearance of this curious vessel. The two canoes are covered over, so as to keep out the water, and are connected by a platform which projects over the outer edges of both boats. Hatchways are cut through the platform, so as to enable the sailors to pass into the interior of the canoes. In the illustration a man is seen emerging from the hatch of the outer canoe. Upon this platform is erected a sort of deck-house for the principal person on board, and on the top of the deck-house is a platform, on which stands the captain of the vessel, so that he may give his orders from this elevated position, like the captain of a steamboat on the paddle-box or bridge. This position also enables him to trace the course of the turtle, if they should be engaged in the profitable chase of that reptile.

The mode of managing the vessel is extremely ingenious. The short mast works on a pivot at the foot, and can be slacked over to either end of the vessel. When the canoe is about to get under way, the long yard is drawn up to the head of the mast, and the latter inclined, so that the mast, the yard, and the deck form a triangle. The halyards are then made fast, and act as stays. When the vessel is wanted to go about, the mast is slacked off to the other end, so that the stern becomes the bow, the tack and the sheet change places, and away goes the vessel on the other course.

It will be seen that such a canoe sails equally well in either direction, and, therefore, that it can be steered from either end. The rudder is a very large oar, some twenty feet in length, of which the blade occupies eight, and is sixteen inches wide. The leverage of such an oar is tremendous, and, in a stiff gale, several men are required to work it. In order to relieve them in some degree, rudder-bands are used; but even with this assistance the men have great difficulty in keeping the canoe to her course, and are nearly sure to receive some very sharp blows in the side from the handle of the steering oar. Sometimes a sudden gust of wind, or a large wave, will bring round the rudder with such violence that the handle strikes a man in the side and kills him. With all these drawbacks, canoe sailing is a favorite occupation with the Fijians, who are as merry as possible while on board, singing songs to encourage the steersman, watching the waves and giving notice of them, and adding to the joyous tumult by beating any drum that they may happen to have on board. Even when the wind fails, and the canoe has to be propelled by poling if she should be in shoal water, or by sculling if she should be too far out at sea for the poles, the crew do their work in gangs, which are relieved at regular intervals, those who are resting singing songs and encouraging those who are at work.

Sculling one of these large canoes is rather heavy work, the great paddles being worked from side to side in perfect unison, the men moving their feet in accordance with the rhythm of their comrades’ song. As many as eight sculls are sometimes employed at the same time, should the canoe be a large one and the crew tolerably numerous. The sculling oars pass through holes in the deck, an equal number being out fore and aft.

The mode of building these canoes is so ingenious that I will try to describe it, though without a plentiful use of diagrams description is very difficult. Canoes of moderate size are cut out of single logs; and in these there is nothing particularly worthy of remark. But when the native ship-builder wishes to construct one of the great war canoes, he has to exercise all the skill of his craft.

Here it must be mentioned that the canoe makers form a sort of clan of their own, and have their own chief, who is always a man eminent for skill in his profession. The experienced Fijians know the workmanship of these men as well as our artists know the touch and style of a celebrated sculptor or painter, and contemplate both the man and his workmanship with respectful admiration.

The first process in canoe building is to lay the keel, which is made of several pieces of wood carefully “scarfed” together; and upon it the planking is fixed, without requiring ribs, as in our boats. The most ingenious part of boat building is the way that the planks are fastened, or rather tied together, without a vestige of the sinnet appearing on the outside. Along the inside edge of each plank runs a bold flange, through which a number of holes are bored downward at regular distances, so that when two planks are placed together, the holes in the flanges exactly coincide, and a cord can be run through them.

When a plank has been made, and all the flange holes bored, the edges are smeared with a sort of white pitch, upon which is laid a strip of fine masi. This of course covers the holes, which are reopened by means of a small fire-stick. The planks thus prepared are called “vonos.” When the vono is ready, it is lifted to its place, and very carefully adjusted, so that all the holes exactly coincide. The best and strongest sinnet is next passed eight or ten times through the hole, drawn as tight as possible, and then tied. It will be seen, therefore, that all the tying is done inside the vessel. In order to tighten the sinnet still more, a number of little wedges are inserted under it in different directions, and are driven home with the mallet.

By this process the planks are brought so tightly together that, when the carpenter comes to smooth off the outside of the vessel with his adze, he often has to look very closely before he can see the line of junction. Caulking is therefore needless, the white pitch and masi rendering the junction of the planks completely waterproof. The vonos are by no means equal in size, some being twenty feet in length, while others are barely thirty inches, but all are connected in exactly the same manner.

The gunwales, and other parts above the water mark, do not require so much care, and are fastened without flanges, a strip of wood or “bead” being laid upon the junction, and the sinnet bands passing over and over it and drawn tight with wedges, and the holes carefully caulked with fibre and pitch. When the canoe is completed, it is beautifully finished off, the whole of the outside being first carefully trimmed with the adze, and then polished with pumice stone, so that it looks as if it were made of one piece of wood.

Ornament is freely used in the best canoes, especially in the two projecting ends, which are carved in patterns, and frequently inlaid with white shells belonging to the genus Ovulum or egg shells. This form of canoe has gradually superseded the more clumsy forms that were once in use in Tonga and the neighboring islands. The Tongans often made voyages to Fiji, being better and bolder sailors, though their canoes were inferior; and, having been struck with the superiority of Fijian boat-building, have by degrees built their own vessels after Fijian models. Being also remarkably good carpenters, they have taken to boat building even in Fiji itself, and have in a great measure ousted the native builders, being able to work better and quicker, and for less pay.

In spite of their excellent canoes, and their skill in managing their vessels, the Fijians are not bold sailors, and, according to Mr. Williams, “none have yet taken their canoes beyond the boundaries of their own group.” He knew one old man named Toalevu (Great Fowl) who had a fancy that he could make a profitable trading expedition westward, and who accordingly loaded his canoe with pottery and masi, and started off. After two or three days, however, he became frightened, and made the best of his way back again, only to become a standing warning to rash voyagers. Yet in waters which they know the Fijians are excellent sailors, and the women appear to be as bold and skilful as the men, assisting in steering, managing the sail, and even in the laborious task of sculling or poling.

Owing to their excellence in canoe building, the Fijians carry on a brisk trade with other islands, supplying them not only with the canoes, but with the masts, sails, sinnet, and other nautical appliances, receiving in exchange the whales’ teeth, shells, weapons, and other valued commodities.

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XCV. FIJI--Continued

GOVERNMENT AND SOCIAL LIFE.

A NATIVE LEGEND -- THE RAT GOD, AND HIS MISHAPS ON A JOURNEY -- EVASION OF A HUMILIATING CUSTOM -- MODERN CHANGES OF GOVERNMENT -- THE VARIOUS RANKS OF CHIEFS AND PEOPLE -- THE SYSTEM OF VASU, OR NEPOTISM EXTRAORDINARY -- SINGULAR POWER OF THE VASU -- THE SYSTEM A HINDRANCE TO INDUSTRY -- THE VASU AS AN AMBASSADOR -- PAYMENT OF TAXES -- PRESENTATION OF THE CANOE -- TRIBUTE PAID IN KIND AND IN LABOR -- THE TENURE OF LAND -- A SINGULAR CUSTOM -- ATTACHMENT TO THE SOIL -- THE DISAPPOINTED PURCHASER -- THE FAMILY THE TYPE OF FIJIAN GOVERNMENT -- CODE OF ETIQUETTE AMONG THE FIJIANS -- THE COURT LANGUAGE -- THE “TAMA,” AND ITS MODIFICATIONS -- MEETING A SUPERIOR -- THE “BALEMURI” CUSTOM -- THE POLITE NATIVE WHO DID NOT GET A MUSKET -- HOW GREAT CHIEFS VISIT EACH OTHER -- ORATORY, AND MODES OF GREETING -- STRICTNESS OF THE CODE OF ETIQUETTE -- THE YOUNG CHIEF AND THE GUANA’S TAIL -- A FIJIAN FEAST -- THE VAST OVENS, AND MODE OF MAKING THEM -- PREPARATIONS FOR THE FEAST -- ARRANGEMENTS FOR THE BANQUET -- VARIETY OF DISHES -- MODE OF DRINKING -- HOW TO OPEN A COCOA-NUT -- CANNIBALISM -- THE KING THAKOMBAU -- PRESUMED ORIGIN OF CANNIBALISM -- NATIVE LEGEND -- THE CANNIBAL FORKS -- OPPORTUNITIES FOR HUMAN SACRIFICES -- “TAKING DOWN THE MAST” -- AN UNFORTUNATE MISTAKE.

Owing to the geographical nature of the Fiji group, which consists of seven groups of islands, some of them very large and some very small, the mode of government has never been monarchical, the country being ruled by a number of chiefs of greater or less importance, according to the amount of territory over which their sway extended. The various islands had in former days but little connection with each other. At the present time, more intercourse takes place, and in one instance the visit involves a singular and ludicrous ceremonial.

One of the gods belonging to Somo-somo, named Ng-gurai, went to visit Mbau a spot on the eastern coast of Viti Lemi, one of the greater islands, and to pay his respects to the god of that place. He was accompanied by a Vuna god named Vatu-Mundre, who gave him a bamboo by way of a vessel, and undertook to guide him on his journey. Ng-gurai then entered into the body of a rat, seated himself on the bamboo, and set off on his journey. After they had sailed for some time, Ng-gurai lost his way on account of wanting to call at every island which he passed, and at last, just as he arrived on the Mbau shore, he was washed off the bamboo and nearly drowned in the surf.

From this fate he was rescued by a Mbau woman, who took him into the chiefs house, and put him among the cooks on the hearth, where he sat shivering for four days. Meanwhile, Vatu-Mundre arrived at his destination, and was received in royal manner by the Mbau god, who tried in vain to induce him to become tributary to him.

After a proper interval, the Mbau god returned the visit of Vatu-Mundre, who had craftily greased the path, so that when his visitor became animated, his feet slipped, and he fell on his back. Vatu-Mundre then took advantage of his situation, and forced his visitor to become his tributary.

In consequence of this affair, the Mbau people pay a homage to the natives of Vuna, but indemnify themselves by exacting a most humiliating homage from the men of Somo-somo, though in fact Somo-somo is the acknowledged superior of Vuna.

Whenever a Somo-somo canoe goes to Mbau, the sail must be lowered at a certain distance from shore, and the crew must paddle in a sitting position. To keep up the sail or to paddle in the usual standing position would cost them their lives. As soon as they come within hearing of the shore they have to shout the Tama, i. e. the reverential salutation of an inferior to a superior, and to reiterate it at short intervals.

Arrived on shore, they are not allowed to enter a house, but are kept in the open air for four days, during which time they are obliged to wear their worst dresses, move about in a stooping attitude, and to say the Tama in a low and trembling voice, in imitation of the shivering rat-god. After the four days have expired, they may enter houses and dress in better clothes, but are still obliged to walk in a half-bent attitude. When a Mbau man meets one of these crouching visitors, he cries out, “Ho! Ho!” in a jeering manner, and asks the Somo-somo man whether his god is yet at liberty. The unfortunate visitor is then obliged to place his hand on his heart, stoop half-way to the ground, and say humbly that Ng-gurai is allowed his liberty.

Naturally disliking this oppressive and humiliating custom, the people of Somo-somo have of late years managed to evade it by means of foreign vessels. The custom of lowering the sail and paddling while seated was not binding on people of other countries, and so they contrived to visit Mbau on board of Tongan canoes, or, better still, English ship-boats.

Of late years the government has assumed a feudal aspect, the chiefs of large districts being considered as kings, and having under them a number of inferior chiefs who are tributary to them, and bound to furnish men and arms when the king declares war. According to Mr. Williams, the Fijians may be ranked under six distinct orders. First come the kings, and next to them the chiefs of separate large islands or districts. Then come the chiefs of towns, the priests, and the Mata-ni-vanuas, or aides-de-camp of the great chiefs. Next to them come the chiefs of professions, such as canoe building and turtle fishing, and with them are ranked any distinguished warriors of low birth. The fifth rank includes all the commonalty, and the sixth consists of the slaves, who are always captives.

As is often the case in countries where polygamy is practised, the law of descent passes through the female line, the successor of the king or chief being always the son of a woman of high rank.

The oddest part of Fijian political economy is the system of Vasu, or nephew--a system which may be described as nepotism carried to the greatest possible extreme. Mr. Williams’s description of the Vasu is very curious. “The word means a nephew, or niece, but becomes a title of office in the case of the male, who in some localities has the extraordinary privilege of appropriating whatever he chooses belonging to his uncle, or those under his uncle’s power.

“Vasus are of three kinds: the Vasu-taukei, the Vasu-levu and the Vasu;--the last is a common name, belonging to any nephew whatever. Vasu-taukei is a term applied to any Vasu whose mother is a lady of the land in which he was born. The fact of Mbau being at the head of Fijian rank gives the Queen of Mbau a pre-eminence over all Fijian ladies, and her son a place nominally over all Vasus.

“No material difference exists between the power of a Vasu-taukei and a Vasu-levu, which latter title is given to every Vasu born of a woman of rank, and having a first-class chief for his father. A Vasu-taukei can claim anything belonging to a native of his mother’s land, excepting the wives, home, and land of a chief. Vasus cannot be considered apart from the civil polity of the group, forming, as they do, one of its integral parts, and supplying the high-pressure power of Fijian despotism.

“In grasping at dominant influence, the chiefs have created a power, which ever and anon turns round and grips them with no gentle hand. However high a chief may rank, however powerful a king may be, if he has a nephew, he has a master, one who will not be content with the name, but who will exercise his prerogative to the full seizing whatever will take his fancy, regardless of its value or the owner’s inconvenience in its loss. Resistance is not to be thought of, and objection is only offered in extreme cases. A striking instance of the power of the Vasu occurred in the case of Thokonauto, a Rewa chief, who, during a quarrel with an uncle, used the right of Vasu, and actually supplied himself with ammunition from his enemy’s stores....

“Descending in the social scale, the Vasu is a hindrance to industry, few being willing to labor unrewarded for another’s benefit. One illustration will suffice. An industrious uncle builds a canoe in which he has not made half-a-dozen trips, when an idle nephew mounts the deck, sounds his trumpet-shell, and the blast announces to all within hearing that the canoe has that instant changed masters.”

The Vasu of a king is necessarily a personage of very great importance; and when he acts as delegate for the king, he is invested for the time with royal dignity. He is sent, for example, to other places to collect property, which is handed over to his king as tribute; and were it not for a check which the king has over him, he might be tempted to enrich himself by exacting more from the people than they ought to give. In this case, however, the Vasu is held amenable to the king, and should he exceed his proper powers, is heavily fined.

Taxes, to which reference is here made, are paid in a manner differing materially from the mode adopted in more civilized countries. In Europe, for example, no one pays a tax if he can possibly escape from it, and the visits of the tax-gatherer are looked upon as periodical vexations. In Fiji the case is different. People take a pride in paying taxes, and the days of payment are days of high festival.

On the appointed day the king prepares a great feast, and the people assemble in vast multitudes with their goods, such as rolls of sinnet, masi, whales’ teeth, reeds, women’s dresses--and often accompanied by their wearers--ornaments, weapons, and the like, and present themselves in turn before the king. Each man is clad in his very best raiment, is painted in the highest style of art, and displays the latest fashion in hair-dressing. With songs and dances the people approach their monarch, and lay their presents before him, returning to the banquet which he has prepared for them.

It is hardly possible to imagine a more animated scene than that which occurs when the tribute from a distant place is taken to the king, especially if, as is often the case, a valuable article, such as a large war canoe, is presented as part of the tribute. A fleet of canoes, containing several hundred people and great quantities of property, makes its appearance off the coast, and is received with great hospitality, as well may be the case. The king having seated himself on a large masi carpet, the principal chief of the tribute bearers comes before him, accompanied by his men bringing the presents with them in proper ceremonial, the chief himself carrying, in the folds of his robe, a whale’s tooth, which is considered as the symbol of the canoe which is about to be presented, and which is called by the same name as the canoe which it represents.

Approaching the king with the prescribed gestures, the chief kneels before him, and first offers to his master all the property which has been deposited on the ground. He then takes from the folds of his voluminous dress, which, as the reader may remember, is often several hundred feet in length, the whale’s tooth, and makes an appropriate speech. He compliments the king on the prosperity which is enjoyed by all districts under his sway, acknowledging their entire submission, and hoping that they may be allowed to live in order to build canoes for him. As an earnest of this wish, he presents the king with a new canoe, and, so saying, he gives the king the symbolical whale’s tooth, calling it by the name of the vessel. On receiving the tooth, the king graciously gives them his permission to live, whereupon all present clap their hands and shout, the cry of the receivers being different from that which is employed by the givers.

In the following illustration one of these animated scenes is represented.

Nearly in the centre is the king seated on the masi carpet, having his back to the spectator in order to show the mode in which the flowing robes of a great man are arranged. In front of him kneels the chief of the tax-paying expedition, who is in the act of offering to the king the symbolical whale’s tooth. One or two similar teeth lie by his side, and form a part of the present. In the distance is the flotilla of canoes, in which the tax-paying party have come; and near the shore is the new war canoe, which forms the chief part of the offering.

In the foreground are seen the various articles of property which constitute taxes, such as yams, rolls of cloth and sinnet, baskets, articles of dress, and young women, the last being dressed in the finest of likus, and being decorated, not only with their ordinary ornaments, but with wreaths and garlands of flowers. Behind the offering chief are his followers, also kneeling as a mark of respect for the king; and on the left hand are the spectators of the ceremony, in front of whom sit their chiefs and leading men.

Tribute is not only paid in property, but in labor, those who accompany the tax-paying chief being required to give their labor for several weeks. They work in the fields, they thatch houses, they help in canoe building, they go on fishing expeditions, and at the end of the stipulated time they receive a present, and return to their homes.

Should the king take it into his head to go and fetch the taxes himself, his visit becomes terribly burdensome to those whom he honors with his presence. He will be accompanied by some twenty or thirty canoes, manned by a thousand men or so, and all those people have to be entertained by the chief whom he visits. It is true that he always makes a present when he concludes his visit, but the present is entirely inadequate to the cost of his entertainment.

The tenure of land is nearly as difficult a question in Fiji as in New Zealand. It is difficult enough when discussed between natives, but when the matter is complicated by a quarrel between natives and colonists, it becomes a very apple of discord. Neither party can quite understand the other. The European colonist who buys land from a native chief purchases, according to his ideas, a complete property in the land, and control over it. The native who sells it has never conceived such an idea as the total alienation of land, and, in consequence, if the purchaser should happen to leave any part of the land unoccupied, the natives will build their houses upon it, and till it as before. Then as in process of time the proprietor wants to use his ground for his own purposes, the natives refuse to be ejected, and there is a quarrel.

The state of the case is very well put by Dr. Pritchard: “Every inch of land in Fiji has its owner. Every parcel or tract of ground has a name, and the boundaries are defined and well-known. The proprietorship rests in families, the heads of families being the representatives of the title. Every member of the family can use the lands attaching to the family. Thus the heads of families are the nominal owners, the whole family are the actual occupiers. The family land maintains the whole family, and the members maintain the head of the family.

“A chief holds his lands under precisely the same tenure, as head of his family, and his personal rights attain only to the land pertaining to his family, in which right every member of his family shares so far as on any portion of the land. But the chief is also head of his tribe, and, as such, certain rights to the whole lands of the tribe appertain to him. The tribe is a family, and the chief is the head of the family.

“The families of a tribe maintain the chief. In war they give him their services, and follow him to the fight. In peace they supply him with food. In this way, the whole tribe attains a certain collective interest in all the lands held by each family; and every parcel of land alienated contracts the source whence the collective tribal support of the chief is drawn. From this complicated tenure it is clear that the alienation of land, however large or small the tract, can be made valid only by the collective act of the whole tribe, in the persons of the ruling chief and the heads of families. Random and reckless land transactions under these circumstances would be simply another seizure of Naboth’s vineyard, for which the price of blood would inevitably have to be paid.”

Another cause of misunderstanding lies in a peculiar attachment which the Fijian has to the soil. When he sells a piece of land, it is an understood thing between the buyer and seller that the latter shall have the exclusive right of working on the ground, that none but he shall be employed to till the ground, or build houses upon it. The white settlers who understand the customs of the natives have accepted the condition, and find that it answers tolerably well. Those who are unacquainted with native ideas have often suffered severely for their ignorance, and, when they have brought a gang of their own workmen to put up a house on the newly purchased land, have been fairly driven out by armed parties of natives.

Mr. Pritchard narrates an amusing anecdote, which illustrates the working of this principle. A missionary had purchased some land according to the code of laws which had been agreed upon by the native chiefs and the colonists; all the natives who belonged to the family having been consulted, and agreed to the purchase. As a matter of course, they expected that the work of clearing the ground and building the house would be given to them. Being ignorant of this custom, the purchaser took some of his own people, but was immediately surrounded by a body of armed savages, who flourished their clubs and spears, and frightened him so much that he retreated to his boat, and made off. When he was well out of range, all those who had muskets fired them in the direction of the boat, as if to show that their intention was not to kill but merely to intimidate.

It will be seen from the foregoing passages, that the whole government of Fiji is a repetition of one principle, namely, that of the family. The head of a family is the nominal possessor of the land. All the members of the family use the land, and support their head, as a return for the use of the land. Districts again are considered as families, the chief being the head, and being supported by the district. The king, again, is considered as the father of all the chiefs, and the nominal owner of all the land in his dominions, and he is therefore entitled to be supported by the taxation which has been described. Practically, however, he has no more right to land than any other head of a family.

From the preceding observations the reader may see that a definite code of etiquette prevails among the Fiji islands. Indeed, there is no part of the world where etiquette is carried to a greater extent, or where it is more intimately interwoven with every action of ordinary life. If, for example, one man meets another on a path, both having, as usual, their clubs on their shoulders, as they approach each other they lower their clubs to their knees, as a token that they are at peace, and pass on. Retaining the club on the shoulder would be equivalent to a challenge to fight.

The leading characteristic of this code of etiquette is the reverence for the chief, a reverence which is carried to such a pitch, that in battle a chief sometimes comes out unhurt simply because his opponents were so much awe-stricken by his rank that they did not dare to strike him. Each superior therefore partakes of the chiefly character as far as his inferiors are concerned, and expects the appropriate acknowledgments of rank.

This extraordinary reverence is carried so far that it has invented a language of etiquette, no one with any pretensions to good breeding speaking in ordinary language of a chief, of a chiefs head or limbs, of a chiefs dress, or indeed of any action performed by a chief, but supplying a paraphrastic and hyperbolical phraseology, of which our own court language is but a faint shadow. The Tama, which has before been mentioned, is the right of a chief, and is therefore uttered by men of inferior rank, not only when they meet the chief himself, but when they come within a certain distance of his village. So elaborate is this code of ceremony that, discourteous as it might be to omit the Tama when due, it would be thought doubly so to utter it on occasions when it was not due. For example, the Tama is not used toward the close of the day, or when the chief is either making a sail or watching a sail maker at work; and if the Tama were uttered on any such occasion, it would be resented as an insult.

Passing a superior on the wrong side, and sailing by his canoe on the outrigger side, are considered as solecisms in manners, while passing behind a chief is so deadly an insult that the man who dared do such a deed would run the risk of getting his brains knocked out on the spot, or, if he were a rich man, would have to pay a very heavy fine, or “soro,” by way of compensation. The reason of this rule is evident enough. The Fijian is apt to be treacherous, and when he attacks another always tries to take him unawares, and steals on him, if possible, from behind. It is therefore a rule, that any one passing behind a superior is looked upon as contemplating assassination, and makes himself liable to the appropriate penalty.

If a man should meet a chief, the inferior withdraws from the path, lays his club on the ground, and crouches in a bent position until the great man has passed by. If, however, the two men should be of tolerably equal rank, the inferior merely stands aside, bends his body slightly, and rubs the left arm with the right hand, or grasps his beard and keeps his eyes fixed on the ground.

The act of giving anything to the chief, touching him or his dress, or anything above his head, or receiving anything from him, or hearing a gracious message from him, is accompanied by a gentle clapping of the hands. Standing in the presence of a chief is not permitted. Any one who addresses him must kneel; and if they move about, must either do so on their knees, or at least in a crouching attitude.

In some cases the code of etiquette is carried to an extreme which appears to us exceedingly ludicrous. If a superior fall, or in any other way makes himself look awkward, all his inferiors who are present immediately do the same thing, and expect a fee as recognition of their politeness.

Mr. Williams narrates an amusing anecdote of this branch of etiquette, which is called bale-muri (pronounced bahleh-moo-ree), i. e. follow in falling. “One day I came to a long bridge formed of a single cocoa-nut tree, which was thrown across a rapid stream, the opposite bank of which was two or three feet lower, so that the declivity was too steep to be comfortable. The pole was also wet and slippery: and thus my crossing safely was very doubtful.

“Just as I commenced the experiment, a heathen said with much animation, ‘to-day I shall have a musket.’ I had, however, just then to heed my steps more than his words, and so succeeded in reaching the other side safely. When I asked him why he spoke of a musket, the man replied, ‘I felt certain you would fall in attempting to go over, and I should have fallen after you (that is, appeared to be equally clumsy); and as the bridge is high, the water rapid, and you a gentleman, you would not have thought of giving me less than a musket.’” Ludicrous as this custom appears, it is based upon a true sense of courtesy, a desire to spare the feelings of others.

When one person of rank visits another, a number of ceremonies are performed in regular order. Should the visit be paid in a canoe, as is mostly the case, a herald is sent a few days previously to give notice of his coming, so as to avoid taking the intended host by surprise. As soon as the canoe comes in sight, a herald is sent out to inquire the name and rank of the visitor, who is met on the shore by a deputation of petty chiefs, headed by one of the Matas, or aides-de-camp. If the visitor be a personage of very high rank, the Matas will go ten miles to meet him.

As soon as the visitor and his retinue have reached the house of their entertainer, they seat themselves, and the host, after clapping his hands gently in token of salutation, welcomes them in a set form of words, such as “Come with peace the chief from Mbau,” or “Somo-somo,” as the case may be.

A series of similar remarks is made by both parties, the main point being that Fijian oratory is the driest and dullest of performances, always broken up into short sentences, without any apparent connection between them, and further hindered by the attitude of courtesy which the speaker has to adopt. It is impossible for the finest orator in the world to make an effective speech if he has to deliver it in a kneeling position, with his body bent forward, his hands holding his beard, and his eyes directed to the ground. In some parts of Fiji etiquette requires that the orator’s back should be toward the chief whom he is addressing. Nobody takes the trouble to listen to these speeches, or is expected to do so, the chiefs often talking over indifferent matters while the proper number of speeches are rehearsed.

The ceremonies on leave-taking are quite as long, as intricate, and as tedious; and, when the speeches are over, the two great men salute each other after the fashion of their country, by pressing their faces together, and drawing in the breath with a loud noise, as if smelling each other. A chief of inferior rank salutes his superior’s hand, and not his face.

When the visitors start upon their return journey, the host accompanies them for a part of the way, the distance being regulated by their relative rank. If they should have come by sea, the proper etiquette is for the host to go on board, together with some of his chief men, and to accompany his visitors to a certain distance from land, when they all jump into the sea and swim ashore.

As is the case in all countries, whether savage or civilized, the code of etiquette is rigidly enforced at meal-times. Even the greatest chief, if present at a banquet, behaves in as deferential a manner as the commonest man present. Though he may be in his own dominions, and though he may hold absolute sway over every man and woman within sight, he will not venture to taste a morsel of food until it has first been offered to him. Many years ago one chief did so, and, in consequence, the Fijians have hated his very name ever since.

So great would be the breach of manners by such a proceeding, that the life of the offender would be endangered by it. On one occasion it did cost the chief his life. He inadvertently ate a piece of cocoa-nut which had not been offered to him; and this insult so rankled in the mind of one of his officers, who was in attendance, that he ran away from his own chief, and joined another who was at war with him. A battle took place, the offending chief was worsted, and was running for his life, when he met the insulted officer, and asked for his assistance. The man was inclined to give it, but the insult could not be forgotten, and so, with an apology for the duty which he was called on to perform, he knocked out his former master’s brains with his club.

A still more astonishing instance of this feeling is mentioned by Mr. Williams. A young chief and his father-in-law were about to dine together, and a baked guana was provided for each. The guana is a lizard which has a long and slender tail. In passing by his relative’s guana, the young man accidentally broke off the end of its tail, which would necessarily be rendered brittle by cooking. This was held to be so gross an insult, that the offender paid for it with his life.

Etiquette is shown to its fullest extent when a king or principal chief gives a great banquet. As with the New Zealanders, such a feast is contemplated for many months previously; vegetables are planted expressly for it, and no one is allowed to kill pigs or gather fruit, lest there should not be a sufficient quantity of provisions.

Just before the day of festival, the final preparations are made. Messages are sent to all the neighboring tribes, or rather to the chiefs, who communicate them to the people. The turtle fishers bestir themselves to get their nets and canoes in order, and, as soon as they are ready, start off to sea. Yams and other root crops are dug up, the ovens made, and the fuel chopped and brought ready for use.

These ovens are of enormous size, as each is capable of cooking a number of pigs, turtles, and vast quantities of vegetables. With all our skill in cooking, it is to be doubted whether we are not excelled by the Fijians in the art of cooking large quantities of meat at a time. The ovens are simply holes dug in the ground, some ten feet in depth and fifteen feet or so in diameter.

The mode of cooking is very simple. A small fire is made at the bottom of the pit, which is then filled with firewood, and as soon as the wood is thoroughly on fire, large stones are placed on it. When the wood has all burned away, the pigs, turtles, and vegetables are laid on the hot stones, some of which are introduced into the interior of each animal, so that it may be the more thoroughly cooked. The oven is then filled up with boughs and green leaves, and upon the leaves is placed a thick covering of earth. The oven regulates its own time of cooking, for as soon as steam rises through the earthy covering, the contents of the oven are known to be properly cooked.

For the two or three days preceding the feast, all the people are full of activity. They take a pride in the liberality of their chief, and each man brings as many pigs, yams, turtles, and other kinds of food as he can manage to put together. The king himself takes the direction of affairs, his orders being communicated to the people by his Matas, or aides-de-camp. Day and night go on the preparations, the pigs squealing as they are chased before being killed, the men hard at work digging the ovens, some loosening the earth with long pointed sticks, others carrying off the loosened soil in baskets, while the flames that blaze from the completed ovens enable the workmen to continue their labors throughout the night.

On these occasions the Fijians dispense with their ordinary feelings respecting cooking. In Fiji, as in New Zealand, cooking is despised, and the word “cook” is used as a term of reproach and derision. In consequence of this feeling, all cooking is performed by the slaves. But on the eve of a great feast this feeling is laid aside, and every man helps to cook the food. Even the king himself assists in feeding the ovens with fuel, arranging the pigs, stirring the contents of the cooking pots, and performing offices which, on the following day, none but a slave will perform.

By the time that the cooking is completed, the various tribes have assembled, and the ovens are then opened and the food taken out. It is then arranged in separate heaps, a layer of cocoa-nut leaves being placed on the ground by way of dish. On the leaves is placed a layer of cocoa-nuts, then come the yams and potatoes, then puddings, and at the top of all several pigs. The quantity of provisions thus brought together is enormous. Mr. Williams mentions that at one feast, at which he was present, two hundred men were employed for nearly six hours in piling up the food. There were six heaps of food, and among their contents were about fifty tons of cooked yams and potatoes, fifteen tons of pudding, seventy turtles, and about two hundred tons of uncooked yams. There was one pudding which measured twenty-one feet in circumference.

Profusion is the rule upon these occasions, and the more food that a chief produces, the more honor he receives. One chief gained the honorable name of High Pork, because he once provided such vast quantities of food that before it could be finished decomposition had begun in the pork.

All being arranged, the distribution now begins, and is carried out with that precision of etiquette which pervades all society in Fiji. The various tribes and their chiefs being seated, the Tui-rara, or master of the ceremonies, orders the food to be divided into as many portions as there are tribes, regulating the amount by the importance of the tribe. He then takes the tribes in succession, and calls their names. As he calls each tribe, the people return their thanks, and a number of young men are sent to fetch the food. This goes on until the whole of the food has been given away, when a further distribution takes place among the tribes, each village first taking a share and then each family receiving its proper portion, which is handed to its head.

It is evident that the Tui-rara has no sinecure. He must possess the most intimate knowledge of all the tribes, and the ranks of their respective chiefs, and must at the same time be on the alert to distinguish any stranger that may make his appearance. Should he be a foreigner, he is considered a chief, and a chief’s portion, i. e. a quantity sufficient for twenty Fijians or sixty Englishmen, is sent to him. Of course he gives the greater part away, but in so doing he acts the part of a chief. It is, in fact, the old story of Benjamin’s mess translated into Fijian.

The men always eat their food in the open air, but send the women’s portion to the houses to be eaten within doors.

The first illustration on the next page will give an idea of a Fijian feast. On the left hand is seen the master of the ceremonies, calling the name of a tribe, and in the centre are seen the young men running to fetch the food. In the foreground is the portion of their tribe, consisting of pigs, yams, turtles, and so forth. In front of them are some of the curious drums, which will be presently described, and in the distance are seen the members of the different tribes, some eating, and others waiting for their portion. The curious building in the background is one of the Burés, or temples, which will be presently described.

From the preceding description it will be seen that the Fijians are not bad cooks, and that the number of dishes which they produce is by no means small. The variety of the dishes is, however, much greater than has been mentioned. They eat many kinds of fish, together with almost every living creature that they find in the coral reefs. Some of their preparations very much resemble those to which we are accustomed in England. For example, a sort of shrimp sandwich is made by putting a layer of shrimps between two taro leaves. Several kinds of bread are known, and nearly thirty kinds of puddings. Turtle soup is in great favor, and so are various other soups.

The Fijians even make sauces to be eaten with various kinds of food, the sweet juice of the sugar-cane being much used for this purpose. They also have a sort of an imitation of tea, infusing sundry leaves and grasses in boiling water, and drinking it when it becomes sufficiently cool. Most of their food is cooked; but, like ourselves, they prefer some food in an uncooked state. Small fish, for example, are eaten alive, just as we eat oysters.

They mostly drink water, or the milk of the cocoa-nut. To drink water in native fashion is not very easy. They keep it in long bamboo tubes, so that when it is raised to the lips the greatest care is required lest it should suddenly deluge the face and body.

Cocoa-nuts are opened in rather a curious manner. A stout stick is sharpened at both ends, and one end driven firmly into the ground. Taking the nut in both hands, the native dashes it on the stick, which splits open the thick husk, and allows the nut to be extracted. With a stone, or even with another cocoa-nut in case a stone should not be at hand, the native hammers away round the pointed end, and contrives to knock off a small round lid, which is then removed, leaving a natural drinking-cup in his hand.

* * * * *

We now come to the terrible subject of cannibalism, on which no more will be said than is necessary to illustrate the character of the people.

The Fijians are even more devoted to cannibalism than the New Zealanders, and their records are still more appalling. A New Zealander has sometimes the grace to feel ashamed of mentioning the subject in the hearing of an European, whereas it is impossible to make a Fijian really feel that in eating human flesh he has committed an unworthy act. He sees, indeed, that the white men exhibit great disgust at cannibalism, but in his heart he despises them for wasting such luxurious food as human flesh.

Even the Christianized natives have to be watched carefully lest they should be tempted by old habits, and revert to the custom which they had promised to abjure. For example, Thakombau, the King of Mbau, became a Christian, or at least pretended to do so. He was not a particularly creditable convert. Some time after he had announced himself to be a Christian, he went in his war canoe to one of the districts under his sway. He was received with the horribly barbarous ceremonial by which a very great chief is honored, conch-shell trumpets blowing before him, and the people shouting their songs of welcome. Thus accompanied, he walked through a double row of living victims--men, women, and children of all ages--suspended by their feet, and placed there to give the king his choice. The hopeful convert was pleased to accept the offering, touching with his club as he passed along those victims which seemed most to his taste.

The natives are clever enough at concealing the existence of cannibalism when they find that it shocks the white men. An European cotton-grower, who had tried unsuccessfully to introduce the culture of cotton into Fiji, found, after a tolerably long residence, that four or five human beings were killed and eaten weekly. There was plenty of food in the place, pigs were numerous, and fish, fruit, and vegetables abundant. But the people ate human bodies as often as they could get them, not from any superstitious motive, but simply because they preferred human flesh to pork.

Many of the people actually take a pride in the number of human bodies which they have eaten. One chief was looked upon with great respect on account of his feats of cannibalism, and the people gave him a title of honor. They called him the Turtle-pond, comparing his insatiable stomach to the pond in which turtles are kept; and so proud were they of his deeds, that they even gave a name of honor to the bodies brought for his consumption, calling them the “Contents of the Turtle-pond.” This man was accustomed to eat a human body himself, suffering no one to share it with him. After his family were grown up, he bethought himself of registering his unholy meals by placing a stone on the ground as soon as he had finished the body. His son showed these stones to an English clergyman, who counted them, and found that there were very nearly nine hundred.

One man gained a great name among his people by an act of peculiar atrocity. He told his wife to build an oven, to fetch firewood for heating it, and to prepare a bamboo knife. As soon as she had concluded her labors her husband killed her, and baked her in the oven which her own hands had prepared, and afterward ate her. Sometimes a man has been known to take a victim, bind him hand and foot, cut slices from his arms and legs, and eat them before his eyes. Indeed, the Fijians are so inordinately vain, that they will do anything, no matter how horrible, in order to gain a name among their people; and Dr. Pritchard, who knows them thoroughly, expresses his wonder that some chief did not eat slices from his own limbs.

Cannibalism is ingrained in the very nature of a Fijian, and extends through all classes of society. It is true that there are some persons who have never eaten flesh, but there is always a reason for it. Women, for example, are seldom permitted to eat “bakolo,” as human flesh is termed, and there are a few men who have refrained from cannibalism through superstition. Every Fijian has his special god, who is supposed to have his residence in some animal. One god, for example, lives in a rat, as we have already seen; another in a shark; and so on. The worshipper of that god never eats the animal in which his divinity resides; and as some gods are supposed to reside in human bodies, their worshippers never eat the flesh of man.

According to the accounts of some of the older chiefs, whom we may believe or not, as we like, there was once a time when cannibalism did not exist. Many years ago, some strangers from a distant land were blown upon the shores of Fiji, and received hospitably by the islanders, who incorporated them into their own tribes, and made much of them. But, in process of time, these people became too powerful, killed the Fijian chiefs, took their wives and property, and usurped their office.

In this emergency the people consulted the priests, who said that the Fijians had brought their misfortunes upon themselves. They had allowed strangers to live, whereas “Fiji for the Fijians” was the golden rule, and from that time every male stranger was to be killed and eaten, and every woman taken as a wife.

Only one people was free from this law. The Tongans, instead of being killed and eaten, were always welcomed, and their visits encouraged, as they passed backward and forward in their canoes, and brought with them fine mats and other articles for barter. So much have these people intermingled, that in the eastern islands, which are nearest to those of Tonga, there is a decided mixture of Tongan blood. With this exception, however, the Fijians went on the same principle as the Ephesians of Shakespeare--

“If any Syracusan born Come to the bay of Ephesus, he dies;”

save that, instead of merely putting to death those who came from one country, they only excepted one country from the universal law.

The reader may remember that a sort of respect is paid to a human body used for food. Educated people speak of it in the court language, and, instead of using any vulgar term, such as a human body, they employ the metaphorical language, and call it the “long pig.” As a general rule, the vessels in which human flesh is cooked are reserved expressly for that purpose, and both the vessel in which it is cooked and the dish from which it is eaten are held as tapu.

So highly is “bakolo” honored, that it is eaten, not with fingers, but with a fork, and the implement in question is handed down from father to son, like the merais and tikis of the New Zealander. These forks are quite unlike those which are used in England. They mostly have four prongs, but these prongs, instead of being set in a line, are generally arranged in a circle or triangle as the case may be. They are carved out of some very hard wood, and, when they have become venerable by reason of age or of the rank of their proprietor, they receive names of honor. For example, the cannibal chief who ate nearly nine hundred human bodies had a fork which was named “Undro-undro,” the title signifying a small person carrying a great burden. The fork was a small object, but it had carried to the lips of its master the bodies of nearly nine hundred human beings.

As the Fijians set such a value on human flesh, it is to be expected that they will invent a variety of excuses for obtaining it. For example when a chief builds a house, he kills at least one human victim to celebrate the event. If he builds a large war canoe, a series of sacrifices takes place. A man is killed, for example, when the keel is laid, and, if the chief be a very powerful one, he will kill a victim as each plank is fixed in its place. Even when it is finished the slaughter is not over, as, in the first place, the planks of the new vessel have to be washed with human blood, and, in the next, the launch must be commemorated in the same way as the building. One chief gained some notoriety by binding a number of men, and laying them side by side along the shore to act as rollers over which the canoe was taken from the land into the sea. The weight of the canoe killed the men, who were afterward baked and eaten.

Even after the canoe is launched, excuses are found for carrying on the system of human butchery. Whenever it touches at a place for the first time, a man must be sacrificed in honor of taking down the mast, this being done to show that the vessel means to make some stay at the place. If a chief should arrive in a new canoe, and keep up his mast, the people understand the signal, and bring on board a newly-slain victim, so that the mast may be taken down.

On one occasion, when a war canoe had been built at Somo-somo, the missionaries exerted themselves so successfully that the canoe was launched without the sacrifice of a single life. Eventually, however, their well-intentioned interference rather increased than diminished the number of victims. When the canoe arrived at Mbau, the chiefs were so vexed that it had reached them unhonored by human blood that they straightway attacked a village, killed some fourteen or fifteen men, and ate them in order to do honor to the ceremony of taking down the mast.

Sometimes, in order to secure a victim whenever one is wanted, the chiefs pick out secretly a certain number of men, and put them, so to speak, on the black list. Whenever a sacrifice is needed, all the executioners have to do is to find out how many victims are wanted, and then to go and kill the requisite number of the black-list men.

Whole towns are sometimes put on the black list, a curious example of which custom is given by Mr. Williams. “Vakambua, chief of Mbau, thus doomed Tavua, and gave a whale’s tooth to a Nggara chief, that he might at a fitting time punish that place. Years passed away, and a reconciliation took place between Mbau and Tavua, but, unhappily, the Mbau chief failed to neutralize the engagement made with the Nggara. A day came when human bodies were wanted, and the thoughts of those who held the tooth were turned toward Tavua. They invited the people of that place to a friendly exchange of food, and slew twenty-three of their unsuspecting victims.

“When the treacherous Nggarans had gratified their own appetites by pieces of the flesh cut off and roasted on the spot, the bodies were taken to Vakambua, who was greatly astonished, expressed much regret that such a slaughter should have grown out of his carelessness, and then shared the bodies to be eaten.”

The Fijian can seldom resist meat, and that he should resist “bakolo” could not be expected of him. In Mrs. Smythe’s “Ten Months in the Fiji Islands,” an amusing instance of this predilection is recorded. “A white man had shot and carried off a pig belonging to a Fijian, who, being a convert, went to a native teacher named Obadiah, and asked him to go to the delinquent and remonstrate with him. The teacher put on his black coat, went to the man’s house, and with much earnestness pointed out to him the iniquity of the deed, asking him how he would have liked it had a Fijian killed one of his own pigs. The man listened very respectfully, and allowed the error of his ways, acknowledging that the teacher had put the matter in a new light. ‘But,’ said he ‘the pig is now dead, and we cannot bring it to life again. Shall we throw it out and let it go to waste, or, as it is just baked, and you have not breakfasted, shall we not sit down, and you will ask a blessing?’

“Obadiah, taken by surprise by Q----’s penitence, and the compliment paid to his own clerical functions, and swayed perhaps a little by the irresistible love of all Fijians for roast pork, bowed his head, and reverentially said a long prayer, after which the two set heartily to work on the pig.” When the teacher went to the missionary to report his successful labors, he was quite astonished at being charged with complicity with the thief.

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