Chapter V: Part 5

Here is a portrait of a chief showing the method of tattooing 28
the face. Here again we see him with his _taiaha_, or staff of
office: he looks civilised enough now; in fact, dressed as he 29
is, he might be mistaken for an Englishman, but doubtless he was
very different in the old days. He is nearly ninety years old,
and so must have seen the settlement and fighting almost from
the very beginning. The building behind the group is a meeting
house of the usual Maori shape, though the galvanised iron roof
seems scarcely to agree with the elaborate ornamentation of
the woodwork. Notice the curious scroll carving on the fetich
pillars: it is a favourite design among the Maoris and appears
also in the tattooing of their bodies.

We see the Maori here in European dress and we find him entering
Parliament and the learned professions, or becoming a successful
farmer and grazier in every way as civilised as ourselves. But
he is not anxious to be a mere imitator of the white man, as
he is intensely proud of his own race and past history. In the
remoter districts he still clings to his ancient fashion of life.
Here is a typical group, in native dress, and here is the simple 30
private house of a chief. Again we have an interesting portrait 31
of the daughter of a chief, holding her father’s heavy staff; her 32
curious dress is largely made up of the feathers of the wingless
Kiwi, which we have already seen.

The Maori dances are among the most interesting of their social
customs. We may perhaps see the _haka_, a survival of the 33
old war-dance, performed by half-clad warriors. It is now a
ceremonial dance of welcome. Very different is the _poi_, the 34
pretty action-dance and song of women and girls, which we may
see in the dancing-house of any native village. We notice that
the costumes of the dancers are made up of native flax and
feathers. The chief native sport is the canoe race, as the water
is everything to the Maori. Here is one of the huge dug-out war 35
canoes, hewn from a single tree-trunk, and now becoming somewhat
rare; and here again we see his canoe used to mark the grave of 36
a chief.

We are now in the district south of the Bay of Plenty and near
Lake Rotorua, which we reach by a railway running up the valley
of the Thames. Here is a typical scene. In the group before us a 37
woman is smoking a pipe; we may often see the same thing among
the peasants of Ireland. Down below, a crowd of Maori children 38
are bathing in the stream, while the tourists watch them from
the bridge. The place is called Whakarewarewa, a name rather
difficult to pronounce. This is the northern end of the geyser
district, which we have already visited. Here we see the tourists 39
again, with their cameras, waiting for the great Wairoa Geyser
to start; and here is the geyser playing. Not far away are some 40
Maori women cooking by the steam heat provided by nature. 41

The centre of this region is Lake Rotorua, calm and cold,
while all around on its banks are hot springs, geysers and
boiling mud-holes. Here, where a few years ago was only bush,
or primitive village, a fine modern town has sprung up for the 42
benefit of the tourist in search of beautiful scenery, or the
invalid coming to the health-giving waters. Not far away is
another lake, Rotomahana, in a huge basin formed by the eruption 43
which destroyed the famous terraces. Here we may enjoy the
strange experience of boating on boiling water, with the geysers
working all around us. Volcanic activity is everywhere in this
wonderful country, and it is only natural that round it have
gathered countless Maori legends.

We can easily understand the fondness of the Maoris for the
water. They were a race of islanders and fishermen, never really
happy unless their houses were built close to the water’s edge.
This determined their mode of settlement; they only took to the
dry land of the interior as a refuge from their enemies. So we
found them, when first we entered the island, scattered along the
narrow part of the Fish, where are bays and inlets in abundance,
and along the coasts of the Bay of Plenty and the Taranaki Bight.
Lake, river, and marsh were their dwelling places; and when we
find them established of their own will in the interior, it is
on the banks of Lake Taupo, a small sea in their eyes. The white
settler wanted, in the main, the drier districts for his farms
and cattle, that is, the parts of least value to the Maori;
but none the less, settlement was not effected without a
generation of trouble and a long period of petty warfare.

_Copyright._) (_See page 105._

OLD GOVERNMENT HOUSE: WELLINGTON.]

_Copyright._) (_See page 116._

RAPIDS ON THE WAIKATO.]

_Copyright._) (_See page 108._

GREAT WAIRAKEI GEYSER.]

_Copyright._) (_See page 111._

A CHIEF’S DAUGHTER.]

Down to 1830, except for the missionaries, the Maoris knew us
chiefly through the trading ships which visited the islands,
and the few white men, not real settlers, who lived the life of
the natives and sometimes took part in their clan feuds. The
main occupation of the Maoris was fighting among themselves; and
it was the petition of some chiefs in the Bay of Islands for
protection from another clan which first led to the dispatch of a
British official from New South Wales. This official had no real
power and depended for his information as to the natives entirely
on the missionary interpreters. Then a Frenchman intervened, and
in 1835 proclaimed himself sovereign of New Zealand, apparently
on the strength of some land which he had bought years before at
Hokianga. This led to a league of the northern tribes, headed by
the missionaries, which demanded British protection.

Next we hear of a French bishop setting up a mission at Hokianga,
and a French syndicate buying land in Banks Peninsula, in 1838;
while the English Land Company, started by Gibbon Wakefield,
dispatched its first batch of colonists in the next year. As the
result of these movements, the British Government was forced
to take action, and the Governor of New South Wales promptly
proclaimed our authority over the whole of New Zealand. His
agent, Captain Hobson, concluded the Treaty of Waitangi, at the
Bay of Islands, in 1840; by this agreement the native chiefs
recognised British suzerainty. South Island was occupied just
in time, as Hobson’s officers reached the Banks Peninsula only
four days in advance of a French warship and party of French
colonists. So that it was really France which hurried us on to
the effective occupation of New Zealand.

The later history of our relations with the natives all hinges
on the land question. The New Zealand Company, and many private
speculators as well, bargaining through interpreters, believed
that they had bought enormous areas of land for a mere nothing:
the Maoris imagined that they had sold very little. Moreover,
it was very doubtful who really had the power to sell the land,
since the waste lands of the Maoris were all held in common.
To settle the disputes the Home Government sent out a special
Commissioner who decided that most of the bargains could not be
allowed to stand. Even so the Maoris found it hard to appreciate
our ideas as to sale and possession of land. There was endless
trouble until Sir George Grey was sent over from South Australia
in 1845, learnt the native language, and reduced both sides
to order. For comparatively small sums he succeeded in buying
gradually those parts of the country which were most essential
to the white settlers, while leaving plenty for the support of
the original inhabitants; for we must remember that the Maoris
were very few in proportion to the area of the country. Grey was
popular with the Maoris, and when he left, in 1855, the country
was fairly well organised.

But the land question was not yet finally settled. In 1857, the
Maoris tried to federate under a native king, the main object
of the association being to oppose the further sale of land to
the white settlers. The whole of Central Maoriland, east and
west of Lake Taupo, was unfriendly to us. The trouble came to a
head over a land claim in the Taranaki district, and the result
was over ten years of raids and casual fighting which could
hardly be called organised war, since it moved from district
to district, and the different tribes had no common policy or
unity. As the sections were subdued from time to time, the usual
penalty inflicted was confiscation of land; so that by 1870
the whole of the coast strip, from the north of Hawkes Bay
round by Wellington to the Mokau River on the west, was in our
possession. So, too, was all the land on both sides of the Lower
Waikato, and a narrow fringe along the Bay of Plenty. Thus there
was practically a ring fence put round Central Maoriland, and
until quite recently there was no connexion between Wellington
and Auckland across this isolated block. Sir George Grey, who
had returned as Governor, in 1861, was largely responsible for
laying down the lines on which the Maori problem was finally and
successfully solved.

One interesting result of the war was that Wellington became
the capital instead of Auckland. Auckland was the original
settlement, moved from the Bay of Islands in 1842, and marked
out by Hobson as the future capital. By its position it divided
the tribes of the north from those of the south, and this was a
great advantage in the early days of settlement. Port Nicholson,
later Wellington, was founded in the same year by colonists of
the New Zealand Company; while New Plymouth, in Taranaki, was
settled in 1841. So we have three original and contemporary
settlements, Hawkes Bay being split off from Wellington later.
We have already seen a similar process in South Island. After
1865, the population of South Island increased very rapidly,
until it exceeded that of North Island, while the Maoris in the
latter were thought to be as numerous as the white people. It was
inevitable that the capital should be brought nearer the centre
of power of the white population, and so, in 1865, Wellington was
chosen as the capital by a committee of Australians to which the
question was referred.

We have seen the importance of the Taupo district in past
history, and how throughout, as in South Island, the structure
of the country has profoundly influenced its development and
the relations of the settlers with the Maoris. If instead of
travelling up the trunk line of railway we had continued along
the coast to New Plymouth, we should have realised the meaning
of the purchase and confiscation of the narrow strip all round.
We noticed before how the rivers radiate from the Taupo district
in three directions to the sea; but in their upper courses they
are of no use, since they flow between forest-clad hills, in
deep gorges, where the stream is often broken by rapids, such as 44
we see here, on the Upper Waikato. The river up here does not
seem to be of much value for navigation, and though the scenery
is beautiful the river valley is not attractive to the settler.
Lower down it is different.

We may reach the coast by following the line of the Wanganui,
the most beautiful river in New Zealand. For scores of miles we
rush down, in the little launch. In one reach the river is swift
but smooth, running between sloping, densely forested banks; in
another steep fern-clad cliffs close in to form a gorge through 45
which the water foams and swirls in rapids. Above, we may catch 46
sight of a Maori village; all the way down we meet canoes, slowly
poling against the swift current; while lively parties of Maoris
board us at every landing. Below Pipiriki the scenery changes,
and near the sea we pass through open level country dotted with
sheep and dairy farms, and these are steadily pushing the forest
rim further back. Along the coast strip there is a whole string
of small agricultural towns which suggest to us that the country
round is of great value to the farmer. It is the same all the
way to New Plymouth which lies under the shadow of Mount Egmont,
a huge detached volcanic cone. Everywhere, in the clearings by
the railway, are prosperous-looking dairy farms, the Taranaki
district being specially famous for the quantity and quality of
its dairy produce. Why is this so? The district is warm, it is
also moist, as it lies on the west coast; in fact Mount Egmont
enjoys the heaviest rainfall in the whole island. Here is a farm 47
in Taranaki with the mountain in the distance, and here we have 48
a near view of the great cone.

The economic progress of North Island, so far as we have seen 49
it, has consisted largely in the occupation of the lowlands near
the river mouths, and the gradual clearing of the forest further
inland--a rather different forest from that of South Island,
since the climate is warmer and drier. To open up the country for
farming we had to reduce the hunting grounds of the Maori, and
even to drain, in spite of his opposition, some of his favourite
marshes. As a result of the settlement we find in the south-east,
south and south-west, butter, wool, meat and timber produced in
large quantities; while in the centre we have nothing but the
scenery and some forest as yet untouched.

If we think of the products which are most valuable to New
Zealand at the present day, we shall find that with the exception
of timber they have been introduced from abroad by the white
settlers and were unknown to the Maoris. But the marshland, dear
to the Maori heart, produces one plant which was necessary to
the natives in the past and is still very useful to us. This is
the New Zealand flax, though it is more like hemp than the flax
from which linen is made in the northern hemisphere. The Maoris
wove the fibre of this plant into clothes. Here we see the long 50
blade-like leaves being cut in the swamp; we follow it to the
mills where it is unloaded and sorted into lengths. Inside the
mill it is put through various processes until the fibre finally
appears as a rope or bale of fine white twine ready for the 51
market. In this form it is sent from the mill all over the world
and commands prices as high as Manila hemp with which perhaps we
are more familiar.

We will now leave the south and pay a short visit to the
northern districts. Here the conditions are somewhat different.
There is gold to be found at the base of the Coromandel
Peninsula, and it is mined largely from the quartz rock, not
merely washed from the alluvium as in South Island. This has led
to the growth of a group of small mining towns. There is coal,
too, in the basin of the Waikato and in the districts north of
Auckland. The presence of these minerals in itself would lead us
to expect a difference between the north and south of the island;
but the difference extends further, to the vegetable products of
the soil. We are moving out of the west wind region into the zone
where, as in Victoria, the greater part of the rain falls in the
mild winter, and the summer is dry and hot though tempered by the
nearness of the sea. It is a land where the orange and the vine
grow well, in great contrast to the cool and moist region in the
south of South Island. Many people find the change from Auckland
to Dunedin or Invercargill very trying to the constitution.

North Auckland has its forests, but they are different from those
of the south, for here and here alone grows the Kauri pine. Here 52
is pictured the life of the tree. First we see it growing proudly 53
in the forest; next the lumbermen are at work on the huge trunk; 54
finally the logs are hauled away, and at any of the little ports
of the peninsula we may see the timber ships loading; here, for
instance, is a Norwegian sailing ship taking in a cargo for 55
Liverpool. The Kauri pine is responsible too for a curious local
industry. The forests of the past have left masses of gum buried
in the swamps, and many labourers are employed in spearing or
digging for it. They become very expert in finding likely spots
in which to probe. Here we have a group of Croatian diggers ready 56
to set out for the day’s work; notice the long slender spears
which they carry and the great swamp saw for digging out the
gum. We may see them scraping the gum and then follow them home
in the evening over the desolate plain to their primitive camp. 57
It is a strange industry carried on by these foreigners, and the
life seems hard, but the resin is one of the most useful for
making our varnishes.

We have already noticed the great number of bays and inlets along
the long northern neck of the island. In the far north is the
Bay of Islands, the site of the earliest settlement, represented 58
now only by the small town of Russell. Fifty miles further south
we have the deep inlet of Whangarei Harbour, where a port and
a short railway line mark the presence of coal in the country
behind. Finally, on Waitemata Harbour, a western arm of the wide
Hauraki Gulf, stands Auckland, the former capital and still the 59
largest town in New Zealand. The population of the city with its
suburbs is now over a hundred thousand. Only eight miles away by
rail is Onehunga, on Manukau Harbour, a gulf almost landlocked 60
but opening into the waters of the Tasman Sea.

The best way to appreciate Auckland is to approach it from the
sea. As we steam along the coast from the north, on our left is
the curiously shaped Rangitoto Island, an extinct volcano; on
our right is a long peninsula, with two low rounded hills, also
volcanic, joined together by a low neck of land on which stands
the suburb of Devonport. Across this neck we get a brief glimpse
of the city standing on two groups of small hills with narrow
valleys running down to the harbour between them. Then we turn
round the North Head and suddenly the whole bay, two miles broad,
opens out before us. On our left are the residential suburbs of
Remuera and Parnell, with houses and gardens running down to the
water’s edge; further up the bay is the main city with its long
quays busy with traffic, and large steamers anchored in the deep
channel. Beyond are more suburbs, and we can follow the winding
inlet for fifteen miles through beautiful scenery which reminds
us somewhat of Port Jackson. On the north side again another
city is growing up, so that Auckland seems to be built round a
great lake, open at the two ends. The air is clear and free from
smoke and everywhere the sparkling blue water reflects the bright
sunshine. Here we see Auckland, looking across the water from 61
Devonport, and here we look down on it from Mount Victoria. 62

Auckland, for its beauty, has been styled the Naples of the
South, and, like Naples, it has its volcanoes. We have noticed
some of these already, and in the neighbouring country over sixty
small cones, such as the one before us, can be counted within a 63
radius of ten miles. Even the hills on which the city stands are
partly built up of volcanic debris. Fortunately for Auckland the
volcanoes are no longer active, and it lacks also the picturesque
dirt and squalor of Naples. It is modern, clean and prosperous.
It has also something more than beautiful scenery to recommend
it. Though it suffered in some ways by the removal of the capital
to Wellington, it is still, and is likely to remain the chief
port-of-call in the Dominion. It is near to Sydney and is the
natural centre for the trade of the neighbouring Pacific islands.
It is the last port of departure for vessels sailing between
Australia and America; and when the Panama Canal is finished, it
will stand on the shortest route from the eastern United States
to Sydney and Melbourne, and an alternative route to the Suez
Canal for the United Kingdom and the whole of Western Europe. It
is the chief link connecting New Zealand with the outer world,
and a fit point of departure for our final cruise among the
islands to the north.

LECTURE VIII

FIJI AND THE WESTERN PACIFIC

We started our tour with the great continental land-mass of
Australia; we shall end it with a visit to some of the many
hundred scattered islands of the Pacific which are under British 1
control and protection. North-east from Auckland, for a thousand
miles, we steam through the open ocean, sighting no land except
perhaps the lonely Kermadec Islands, which are, as we have seen,
attached to the Government of New Zealand, until we reach the
fringe of the many groups of coral islands and reefs which fill
so much of the Western Pacific. We shall touch first at Tonga
Tabu, the southernmost and largest of the Friendly Islands, as
Captain Cook called them, which lie just north of the Tropic of
Capricorn and rather more than halfway round the globe eastward
from London.

At Auckland we left behind us hills and fiords; on our right as
we enter this group is the small but high volcanic island of Eua,
the only one in the whole group which contains a river; the main
island, Tonga Tabu, or Holy Tonga, lies on our left, and has a
very different aspect. A low mass, green with what prove to be
coconut palms, rises out of white surf and spray breaking over
reefs of coral rock. We round a low headland and thread our way
through winding channels among the reefs; on one side is the
low mainland, on the other a string of green islets capping the
reefs. After anchoring in the roadstead for a visit from the 2
doctor we are hauled alongside the little ferro-concrete wharf.
Beyond is a picturesque white town, Nukualofa, the capital of the 3
island.

At the wharf half the population seems to be gathered to meet us.
Some are clothed, native fashion, in the famous Polynesian mats
or in the bark-cloth called _tapa_, or even in cotton; others are
in European dress. The town with its white houses and verandas
looks quite civilised. The inhabitants remind us of the New
Zealand Maoris, though their colour is somewhat lighter; in fact,
both peoples belong to the same great family, the Polynesians, or
light-brown people of the Pacific, which is spread over many of
the island groups which lie to the north-east and east of Tonga.
It is this race which roused the admiration of early voyagers in
these regions, both for its physical appearance and its character.

The Friendly Islands, though a British Protectorate, and, as
regards all matters in which European interests are involved,
under the jurisdiction of the High Commissioner of the Pacific,
still have a native king and Parliament. The inhabitants are
Christians, and are in a sense the most school-taught people in
the Pacific. They seem to delight especially in mathematics and
music, while shorthand is their usual method of writing. Tonga
was the last of the independent kingdoms to come under European
control. It was left to us as the result of our negotiations
with Germany, at the end of the nineteenth century, and is now
practically an integral part of our Empire in the Pacific. During
the fifty years before we assumed control, it had made rather
remarkable progress, under its native ruler, King George Tubou
I., in the adoption, or perhaps the imitation, of Western ideas.
This was largely due to the Wesleyan missionaries, and especially
to the work of one missionary who occupied the post of Prime
Minister.

We will now land and pay a call on the father of the present 4
king. He receives us in civilised fashion on the veranda of
his house, but we notice that chairs are provided only for the
guests; the rest sit on the ground in native fashion. A bowl of
_kava_ is brewed for us by pounding, squeezing and straining
out the juice of a root of a plant belonging to the family of
the pepper-worts. It is the native substitute for alcohol, the
use of which by any but white people is strictly forbidden in
Tonga. Without _kava_ drinking, no social ceremony is considered
complete, even to-day; and it has played an important part in the
political and religious gatherings of the past.

Let us now look round the island. It is only about thirty miles (2)
long and ten wide, shaped rather like the human foot, with two
bays running far inland in the broadest part. The streets and
the sea front of Nukualofa are mostly covered with short grass,
and the town is partly hidden in the groves of coconut palms.
It is the same all over the island. In the drier season we can
follow broad grass tracks, for the most part running round the
island; on both sides of us is a dense growth of palms, bananas,
and tropical trees, such as we see in the picture before us. 5
Everything is moist and green and flat; yet, in Tonga Tabu, as in
all the islands of this particular group, except Eua, we find no
rivers, since the island is merely a block of coral rock, with a
thin covering of rich soil, raised a few feet above the level of
the sea. It is a form of coral island very common in this part of
the Pacific.

We now leave Tonga Tabu for the northern islands of the group.
Our decks are crowded with passengers. The natives are fond of
travelling, and camp out on our vessel with a miscellaneous
collection of luggage and food, including a number of pigs. We
are bound for the Haapai Group, through a mass of small islets
and foaming reefs; but away to the west rise several lofty
volcanoes, some of which are still active. We are touching here
one of the great volcanic lines of the world, a line which we
have already seen continued in New Zealand. Off one of these
islands, Tofua, was the scene of the famous mutiny of the
_Bounty_.

We come to anchor on the leeward side of Haapai, at the one town,
called Lifuka. There is no wharf here, and we lie a long way from
the shore, as we see in this picture. We may land in the launch 6
or in one of the native boats which come out to meet us; and we 7
can survey the whole island in a short walk, as although it is
five miles long it is less than two miles wide at the point where
Lifuka stands. There is the same rich foliage and tropical fruit
as in Tonga Tabu, but if we cross the island to the windward
side we shall see a difference from our calm anchorage on the
west. Here the south-east Trade Wind is blowing on-shore and the
rollers are pounding incessantly and breaking into surf against 8
the coral rocks. It is a contrast which we find in most of the
islands in this region.

We must hurry on to Vavau, the most northerly of the three
main groups of the Friendly Islands. Here the main island is
hilly, with high limestone cliffs and ridges. It is the top
of a vast mass, heaved up by volcanic agency from the depths
of the Pacific. So we have Vavau Sound, studded with islands
and protected from the sea by cliffs and headlands running out
on either hand. Here is a view of the Sound; it may remind us 9
perhaps of a Scottish loch, until we notice the coconut trees
covering the hills and coming right down to the water’s edge.
Gradually the Sound narrows, and after a rather abrupt turn we
enter the landlocked harbour of Niafu, with its little wharf and 10
its group of houses buried in the trees. There are palms and
bananas here as in the other islands, but Vavau is especially the
home of the orange. The whole country round is a mass of orange
trees, and the ripe fruit strews the grassy roads on which we
walk. The picture is spoilt somewhat, especially near the town,
by the style of the buildings. There is timber from New Zealand
on the jetty, and the native grass and reed hut is giving place
to the wooden house with galvanised iron roof, which is ugly and
not well suited to the climate. The importance of Vavau lies in
its deep and safe harbour, in a part of the world where such are
somewhat rare.

Many of the islands of this part of the Pacific are often
inaccessible, even for small vessels. Here we have an interesting
method of landing on them; the figure in the water is a native 11
postman, who is swimming from our steamer to the island and
carrying the mails sealed up in a water-tight can. The natives
are fine swimmers and as much at home in the water as on the land.

From Vavau, we turn north-west, and after crossing about two
hundred miles of open ocean reach the Lau Islands. These are the
easternmost of the Fiji Islands and are, in Fiji, often spoken
of as the Windward Islands. Here is one of the islands of this
group: notice the white line of the fringing coral reef. 12

In this part of our voyage we follow the course of the Trade
Wind, as the Tongans have done for many generations, and the
missionaries after them. As a consequence of the easy voyage down
wind, the Tongans have had great influence on Fijian affairs in
the past; they even established for themselves a kingdom, in the
Lau Group, shortly before Fiji was taken over by Britain. Great
navigators though they were, they had less skill than the Fijians
in boat-building and carpentry; so they came to Fiji for their
canoes. In Fiji canoe-building is a hereditary occupation. In
former times they used great twin canoes, with a deck between;
but now the usual form is a single canoe with raised sides and a 13
solid outrigger, and carrying mat sails. This canoe is capable 14
of great speed, though it does not look very safe. It is giving
place now to boats of a European type.

The Fiji Islands, the most important group in this part of the 15
Pacific, are really the higher parts of a great bank in the
ocean; the bank is fringed by reefs and coral islands, and in the
middle is the Koro Sea, like a vast lagoon, with a wide opening
to the south. On the western side of the bank are the islands of
Viti Levu and Vanua Levu; these names, in the Fijian language,
mean respectively the “Great Viti” and the “Great Land.” These
two islands are by far the largest in the group. Both are
volcanic, with high mountains and long rivers, and are quite
different from the ordinary coral island.

We touch first at Ovalau, a small volcanic island eight miles
by six. It lies some fifteen miles off the nearest point of
Viti Levu, from which it is separated by shallow water much
interrupted by reefs. Here is a view from our steamer of one end 16
of Ovalau. We are approaching Levuka town, which stands on a
narrow strip of lowland hemmed in by a wall of mountains. Levuka 17
was one of the earliest settlements of the white traders, and
at a later period was the capital of the group; but we can see
that there is little room for expansion. So the capital has been
transferred to Suva, on the southern side of Viti Levu, where the
conditions are very different. Before leaving the island let us
have a glimpse of the western side. Here we see a typical coast 18
village; across the narrow strait is another island, and beyond
it in the distance rise the heights of the mainland.

On our way from Ovalau to Suva we pass near the tiny islet of
Bau, which is so near the mainland of Viti Levu that we can walk
almost dry-shod from one to the other at low tide. Bau, small as
it is, was once the stronghold of the most powerful of the Fijian
chiefs from which they long effectually resisted both Tongans
and Europeans. The importance of Bau has departed, but its chiefs
are still looked up to as the real aristocrats of the group, and
their way of talking is the standard for classical Fijian.

After passing Bau and the wide mouth of the Rewa River, we reach 19
Suva, which lies on the margin of a wide bay almost enclosed
by the protecting reef which we see in the foreground of the
picture. Inside the reef is a spacious and safe anchorage for
small or large vessels. Here is a panoramic view of the harbour; 20
and here are some native vessels; notice that their cargo 21
consists of bananas. The houses are partly hidden in the trees,
so that the streets are very different from our own. Here is a
street scene: notice that the women in the foreground are Hindus. 22
The Fijians are darker in colour than the Tongans, and many
still retain their strange national habit of wearing their hair
frizzed out in a huge mop. They differ from both of the two great
races of this part of the Pacific, from the Friendly Islanders
whom we saw to the east and from the Solomon Islanders whom we
shall presently see to the west. In fact, the Fijians are almost
certainly a mixture of these two races, with the addition of yet
other strains.

We should expect that the mode of life and the history of the
Fijians would differ from that of the inhabitants of the small
coral islands, since they have for their home a comparatively
large area of land with marked geographical peculiarities. Viti
Levu is over eighty miles from east to west and sixty from 23
north to south. It is a land of mountain and river; whereas the
ordinary coral island has no rivers worth the name. A range of
rugged mountains runs along the northern coast, at no great
distance from the sea, the highest point being Mount Victoria,
which rises to 4500 feet. It is from this part of the island that
the long rivers Rewa and Singatoka flow to the south-east, and
a smaller stream, the Ba, to the north-west. The third largest
river, the Navua, rises in other heights towards the south of the
island, which we shall visit later. Here is a scene on the Navua. 24
The Rewa is long and winding, but it is navigable for shallow
draught steamers for about forty miles from its mouth. The whole
of the south-eastern part of the island is wet and was originally
covered with forest; but the coast-lands to the north-west, under
the lee of the mountain ridges, are drier and more open, as we
may judge from this picture. We can look across the forest, with 25
its dense undergrowth of fern and creeper, and narrow trails
along which we walk, and see in the distance the outlines of 26
the jagged mountains of old volcanic rock. There are no active
volcanoes in the island, though hot springs in many parts show
that volcanic activity is not yet entirely exhausted. Here are 27
some of these springs.

_Copyright._) (_See page 128._

BANANA BOATS: SUVA.]

_Copyright._) (_See page 131._

COCONUT TREE.]

_Copyright._) (_See page 133._

MAKING MATS: FIJI.]

Rivers have been an important element in the making of Fijian
history, since it is in the fertile soil of the river deltas that
the crops of the natives flourish best. Breadfruit and coconuts,
together with the roots of the taro and the spindle-shaped
yam form their principal food. The taro grows best in the wet
districts, or where there is running water; so that the natives
have long been familiar with simple methods of irrigation. These
staple foods are supplemented by many kinds of wild tropical
fruits and roots. The natives have pigs and fowls, but these are
kept for state occasions; fish is the only usual non-vegetable
food. The Fijians are clever fishermen, whether using the spear
or arrow or net, or the fish-fences which they build in the
estuaries of the rivers. In fact, the island provides them amply
with all the food which they need, though sometimes there is a
shortage as they lack means to preserve it. The taro and yams are
stored in earth-covered heaps, as we store potatoes; and some
of the vegetable food supply, especially breadfruit, is buried
in pits and used in a partially fermented state. Here we have a 28
formal presentation of food, yams and turtle and the _yangona_
root for making the native drink called here _yangona_ but
elsewhere _kava_. It is a typical Fijian scene.

The native is content to cultivate his patch of land with simple
implements, such as the digging stick, and is not anxious to work
harder than is necessary for his own needs. He is not very ready
to work for a European employer, while all his traditions, and
the communal system under which he lives, make it impossible for
the industrious individual to accumulate any private property.

The cultivation of produce for export is due to the initiative
of Europeans, and is largely carried on by the East Indian
immigrants who now form a very considerable element in the
population. We have already noticed the Hindu women in the
streets of Suva. For a few years, during the American Civil War,
Fiji exported excellent cotton, but at the present day its export
trade consists practically of sugar, copra or dried coconut,
and bananas. The sugar-cane is a native of the wet and fertile
lowlands of the deltas; but the cultivated kinds are mostly
introduced from elsewhere. We find the cane fields covering much
of the land along certain parts of the coast, and on the river
deltas of Viti Levu and Vanua Levu; and these are connected by
nearly two hundred miles of steam tramways, which carry the cane
to the centrally placed mills. Here is a view across the Rewa, 29
showing a sugar mill; inside the ugly buildings we find the
elaborate European machinery for extracting the juice from the 30
cane. Here again we are in the cane fields with Indian women at
work. It is all unlike the native agriculture, though it is very 31
profitable to Fiji, since sugar is the most valuable of all its
exports.

The coconut industry is far more picturesque; it is chiefly
confined to the south side of Vanua Levu and to Taveuni and the
other islands. The nut is grown for its kernel, which, when
dried, is called copra, and yields the coconut oil which we use
for various purposes. The tree grows everywhere in this region,
but does not flourish in Viti Levu owing to an insect pest which
seems peculiar to that island. The nut has always been much used
by the natives for food, but it is now carefully cultivated for
the production of copra. Here is a plantation with the bungalow 32
of the planter; notice the hills in the background; here again
is a tree carrying its fruit in curious clusters just below the 33
crown of leaves. The natives, who are excellent climbers, swarm
up the taller trees to gather any fruit which is wanted in a not 34
quite ripe state, as for eating or drinking; but the bulk of
the nuts, intended for copra, are allowed to ripen on the tree
until they drop off. The ripe nuts are then cut open, the kernels 35
extracted and dried in great trays and put into bags for shipment.

We will now leave the coast for a short trip inland, to see
something of the country and the people in their more primitive
condition and less mixed type. We travel up the Rewa river for
about twenty miles, and there turn westward across country.
We have left behind the steamer and the European trader and
planter and plunge suddenly into a strange and wild world. At
our first stopping place we are entertained with a display which
reminds us that a very short time ago the Fijians were fierce
fighters and cannibals. This is the _meke_ or native war-dance
and song, now only an interesting survival. First we see the
dancers in the distance, entering the village in two lines. Their 36
faces are hideous with lampblack and vermilion, and they wear
strange-looking dresses made of leaves. They go through many
complicated evolutions. They rush towards us, stabbing with
their long spears and swinging their formidable clubs, and as
suddenly rush away. They stamp and charge and shout and imitate
all the movements of a battle. Finally they subside quietly. 37
The women also have their special dance, of which we have here
a picture. The war-dance is now only a game, but it was far 38
different before our occupation of the islands. Though we still
utilise the old tribal organisation, and govern them through
their native chiefs and councils, we have forced the Fijians to
understand that fighting, raids and massacres are an amusement 39
no longer permitted. The constabulary, which we see here with
their rifles and maxim guns, serve generally only in the coast
regions, where they represent a form of law and order which the
Fijians readily understand; but even in the interior certain
Fijians, less formally organised into a sort of rural police,
keep effective order. Our little trip might not have been so safe
or pleasant forty years ago.

We now leave the Rewa and strike across country south-westward.
Our road is a mere track, and often we find streams to be crossed
but no bridges to help us. To our carriers this does not matter,
as they are not overburdened with clothes. They plunge in and 40
wade through the shallows, and they will carry us if necessary.
On the wider streams canoes must be used, or a bamboo raft lashed
roughly together. We may notice that our carriers have slung our
baggage on poles carried on the shoulders of one or two men;
this is the regular native means of transport, for carts are
only used near the plantations, and by Europeans, where roads
are available. In the old time the women would have carried the
burdens, as it was thought beneath the dignity of a man to carry
anything but his weapons.

Presently we reach a village where we discover an interesting
native industry, the making of mats from a kind of reed. Here 41
we see girls at work weaving the mats, and in one of the native
huts they are making baskets from the same material. The Fijians
are clever at this work, and both mats and baskets are important
articles in their daily life. They also used to make a peculiar
but very artistic pottery, such as we do not find in the islands
of Polynesia further east; but this art is no longer practised 42
except in a few places, and for the production of pots for
domestic use.

Perhaps the most noteworthy native manufacture is that of _tapa_
cloth for their dress. _Tapa_ is made by beating out the fibrous
bark of the paper mulberry, and sometimes of certain other trees.
The art is known in Polynesia generally, and the Fijians, like
many of the other islanders, also print the cloth in various
patterns and colours.

We continue our march, passing many villages. Here is a corner
in one of them; notice the native huts of grass and reeds, very 43
different from the wood and corrugated iron of Suva. Notice,
too, the coconut palms growing all around. Here again we have 44
a more elaborately finished house, in the old style; and here
is the interior of the home of a chief; it looks somewhat 45
unfurnished to our eyes, though it is cool and airy. At the next
village the natives receive us with a solemn presentation of
food and _yangona_ in a rather dark hut. Here they are making
the _yangona_. Finally we reach Namosi, a picturesque native 46
town perched up in the mountains. The town lies in a kind of
pass between steep rocks, the “Gate of Namosi,” as we see in the 47
picture. The inhabitants are summoned together by the beating of
the town drum, a hollow log of wood, and receive us sitting on
the ground beneath an ancient tree. We have reached the limit of 48
our journey; but short though it is, it has given us some idea
of the real Fijian as he is to-day, away from direct European
influence.

The conditions in the other large island, Vanua Levu, are much
the same as in Viti Levu. The island is long and narrow, but
with the same irregular mountain structure, the same vegetation
and the same contrast of wet and dry on the opposite coasts. We
may remember that Ovalau, off the coast of Viti Levu, was much
concerned in the past with the politics of the neighbouring
mainland; the same was true of Taveuni off Vanua Levu. The
dwellers on the rich coastlands of the larger islands led a very
uncertain life between the raiders from the sea and the wild
tribes of the interior. The sea was always the more important
factor in the life of the whole group of islands; it united,
while the land more often divided. We have already noted its
importance in the relations of Fiji and the Friendly Islands.

Before we leave Fiji it is interesting to note that the line
which divides East from West passes through this group, cutting
the island of Taveuni into two; so that in one part of Taveuni we
can stand with one foot in the East and the other in the West,
or in other words, one foot may be in a place nearly twenty-four
hours ahead of that occupied by the other according to Greenwich
Time.

The Fiji Islands are governed as a Crown Colony--the only Colony
so governed in the Pacific; and hitherto the Governor of that
Colony has also been High Commissioner for the Western Pacific,
that is to say, he has been in charge of most of the scattered
islands in the Pacific which are more or less under British
protection. We have already visited one of his charges, the
Friendly or Tongan Islands. The number of these islands under
the High Commissioner is very great, but unfortunately there
is no regular means of communication between Fiji and most of
them. Every month a steamer starts from Auckland, calls at Tonga
Tabu, Haapai and Vavau, and then goes on to Levuka and Suva,
exactly along the route which we have followed. But from Suva
this steamer goes on to Sydney in Australia. Once a month, too,
a steamer starts from Sydney, along the same route but in the
reverse direction, to Auckland. With none of the other islands
is there any direct means of communication; and when the High
Commissioner wishes to visit them he must go round in a warship.
We will accompany him on one of these tours, in order to see
something of the other British islands.

The dotted portion represents the coral reefs, the black portion
land, and the arrows mark the deep-water channels.]

Starting from Suva we steam a little west of north, along the
chain of the Ellice and Gilbert Islands, which reaches quite up
to the equator. These islands are all coral atolls; Funafuti, in
the Ellice Group, serves as a type of all the rest. It consists 49
of a lagoon, about twelve miles across, roughly circular and
surrounded by a reef; the top of this reef appears here and there
above water in the form of coral islets, the largest of which
is Funafuti proper. The whole atoll is merely the coral-rimmed
summit of a huge mountain rising from the great depths of the
Pacific. Funafuti is a complicated atoll; many of the smaller
islands of the Fijian group are volcanic, and show a different
kind of structure. In these we sometimes find the old crater
filled with water, while the remnants of the slopes of the
volcano form the shores of the lagoon. A good instance of this
structure is Totoya, towards the south-east of the Fijian group. 50
Here the enclosing rim rises to over a thousand feet, but the
sea has broken through on the south and formed a lagoon. The
entrance is almost closed by the coral reef which encircles the
whole of the outside of the island. Coral reefs grow everywhere
if the water is shallow enough, so that we find reefs not only
around the coasts of the islands but growing on banks which are
isolated and entirely covered by the sea.

The dotted portions represent coral reefs.]

North of the Ellice Islands are the Gilberts, arranged also
in rows from south-east to north-west. They, too, are coral
atolls, with a thin soil which will grow nothing but coconuts and
screw pines; none the less, on coconuts and fish a fairly dense
population supports itself. They are, as we might expect, less
civilised here than in the larger islands which we have visited
further south.

From the Gilberts we turn south-west to visit another great row
of islands, the Solomons and New Hebrides. On our way we pass
Ocean Island, a small dot isolated from the rest of the Gilbert
Group. Here we find, in addition to the natives, a considerable
number of Europeans. The island is being exploited commercially,
but instead of making copra they are digging out valuable
deposits of phosphates. Here are some of the natives, and here is 51
a picture showing the excavation of the phosphatic coral rock. 52

Ocean Island has for us a further interest. North-west of it
lies Nauru, where also phosphates are obtained. Nauru belongs to
Germany, and the dividing line between the British and German
spheres runs between the two islands. If we follow the line
south-west, we see that it cuts through the Solomons and then
turns sharply west to New Guinea which it divides roughly into
halves. Germany shares with the United States the Samoa Islands,
north-east of Tonga, but her main sphere of influence is in this
western area.

On our voyage to the Solomons we pass another curious island, or
rather group of islands. This is Ongtong Java, where the people
differ from those of the islands which we have visited up to this
point. We are approaching a region where we know little of the
character and origin of the natives, a region more backward and
savage than any other part of our dominions in the Pacific.

The Solomons consist of a double row of long and narrow islands,
with high mountain ridges and many volcanoes, some extinct,
others still active. The largest island, Bougainville, at the
north end, is German; the rest are British. They have long
been known to explorers, but until recently their history
tells chiefly of resistance by the natives against Europeans
who have attempted to open up intercourse with them. Lately,
thanks to the good influence of the missionaries, and perhaps
still more to the better regulations made by the agents of the
British Government for intercourse between the wild men and the
Europeans, considerable advance has been made, and plantations of
coconut and other valuable products have been established in many
of the larger islands. Many of the tribes, however, are still
head-hunters and cannibals. The islands are covered with great
forests, and the plants and animals, as well as the natives,
resemble to some degree those found in New Guinea. The people go
naked for the most part, except for necklaces and bracelets of
shells and teeth. Their houses are often built on piles, like 53
those of the Papuans. Here we see a group engaged in a war-dance,
and here is one of their curiously ornamented canoes. 54

South-east of the Solomons we pass the Santa Cruz Group; the
name, as do many other names in this part of the world, reminds
us again of the early voyages of de Quiros the Spaniard, who at
the end of the sixteenth century first discovered these distant
islands. Spain has disappeared from this part of the Pacific,
and the region of islands is divided between Germany to the
north, Britain in the Solomons, and Britain and France in the New
Hebrides.