Chapter II

CONFUSING NOMENCLATURE OF THE PROTECTORATE--THE PAPUAN TYPE--
THE MELANESIAN--BLANCHE BAY AND ENVIRONS--SIMPSONHAFEN--WALK
TO MATUPI--THE CAPTAIN OF THE _SUMATRA_--ON THE ADMIRALTY
ISLANDS--THE MOÁNUS--THE USIAI--THE MATANKOR

In the following brief outline of the German colony I prefer to employ the names with which our atlas has familiarised us, for the nomenclature of these regions is somewhat maddening. In addition to the names which the islands had received from their discoverers, who were mostly British navigators, there are those with which the Germans re-baptised them on the acquisition of the colony. Then there are the native appellations in constant use between the planters and the kanakas (natives) who, commonly known as “boys,” are recruited for labour purposes from various islands in the Archipelago. Nobody deprecates the confusion this involves more than the officials themselves. The difficulty in coastal surveys of identifying this headland or that harbour with the German name and the native term has been frequently experienced, and natives who have been swept away from their local habitations in their canoes have found it utterly impossible to explain from whence they came, since the authorities were absolutely incapable of understanding to which part of the coast they referred. Herr von Lüschan, of the Berlin Anthropological Society, has strongly urged the retention of the native names.

The Protectorate of New Guinea includes not only the German portion of the island of New Guinea, known as Kaiser Wilhelm’s land, but also those islands in North Melanesia known as the Bismarck Archipelago, with Buka and Bougainville, two of the northernmost Solomon Isles and a few adjacent groups.

The varied and diversified inhabitants of the Archipelago, for lack of closer knowledge, are known as Melanesians. Anthropologically this is a sphere of interest where angels of the expert class fear to tread. Far be it therefore for so humble a wayfarer as myself to intrude! It may be well to mention that two distinct types have been differentiated by ethnologists. The island of New Guinea is regarded as the headquarters of the dark-skinned, woolly-haired Papuan, and it is interesting to read that Huxley believed that the aborigines of this island were more closely allied to the negroes of Africa than they were to any other race. The Papuan (Malay-frizzled) has been described by competent authorities as shorter than the European, but taller than the Malay, smooth-skinned, in colour deeper than the Melanesian, with thin long limbs, small dolicho-cephalic head, prominent nose, high narrow forehead, dark eyes, the frizzled hair worn in a mop, sometimes plaited with grease and mud. He scarifies his skin, and has no knowledge of pottery. The Melanesian closely resembles the Papuan, but is lighter in colour, stronger in build, coarser in feature, less prognathous. He has a knowledge of pottery, of weaving, practises tattooing and has initiation ceremonies and numerous symbolic dances. Mr Sydney Ray, whose linguistic studies of these races entitle him to rank as an authority, considers that Papuan and Melanesian languages, though apparently belonging to separate linguistic stocks, show no evidence of any kind connecting them outside the limits of New Guinea. He thinks that the Melanesian immigration passing eastward round the north of that island entered the Bismarck Archipelago. The peculiarity of the languages of these parts is their extraordinary diversity, natives of villages only a few miles apart being quite unintelligible to each other. This fact presupposes, says he, a long period of quite separate existence of isolated family groups, or gens. These conclusions arrived at by English scientists are borne out by the evidence of German authorities on the spot, men not purely scientists, but governors and officials of the Protectorate.

English Miles.]

Under a cloudless sky, with the bold outlines of New Ireland to my right and with the beautifully wooded upland scenery of the coasts of New Britain to my left, my thoughts turned to the pioneers of these seas, to the joy those who first broke into the silence of this exquisite region must have experienced, as after many days they once more beheld _terra firma_. As the steamer swiftly threaded her path along the tranquil scene, we espied occasionally rising above the woodlands thin wreaths of smoke, betokening human habitation. Having rounded Cape Orford and noted the receding shores of Great Bay (Grosse Bai) we approached the Gazelle Peninsula to the north of the island, parts of which have been settled by the colonists. Although the coastal survey is now complete, there remains a great deal of the interior still to be explored. Soon the fine outlines of an isolated mountain peak appeared in bold relief against the cloudless sky. This was the Varczin (Vunakokor), rising to nearly 2000 feet, standing as sentinel at the entrance of the channel, separating the two islands. This narrow waterway, in the year 1878, was half choked with pumice from a neighbouring volcano, but since 1890 it has been pronounced safe for steam navigation. At certain times, however, according to the prevailing winds, a deep current sets in against which sailing vessels are almost powerless. Ahead of us, surrounded with that beauty which dwells in deep retreats, set between ribbons of silver sea, we caught glimpses of the fertile, for the most part low-lying, well-wooded group known on our maps as the Duke of York’s Islands (Neu Lauenburg). Then as we turned sharply round Cape Gazelle and faced westwards, we passed on our right the Credner Islets, one of which on account of its favourable position has been chosen as a quarantine station, and on our left the picturesque little bay of Kabakaul, where a planter’s house and outbuildings were the first sign of white men’s presence. Here commences that belt of waving greenery which the cocoanut plantations present to the European traveller who for the first time gazes on the Kaiser’s territories in these latitudes. It stretches almost unbrokenly along the shores of Blanche Bay. In the neighbourhood of Herbertshöhe the white habitations of the colonists and other buildings gradually became visible between the cocoanut palm-trees. We were now sufficiently close to shore to watch the white surf breaking over the coral reef, for it may be well to note in passing, that two great agencies have for countless ages been hard at work here, forming and reforming the face of nature--in fact they are still busily engaged at the work. The first of these is the tiny coral insect. Everywhere, excepting when precipitous cliffs rise from great ocean depths, as on the East Coast of New Ireland, the coasts are girdled with reefs. Anchorage is difficult to obtain and landings are often situated where the coral is of raised plateau formation. The second agent is volcanic activity. Hot springs are found in many places, and in extinct craters, where portions of the sides have been blown out, letting in the sea, the colonist finds best shelter for his ships. Earthquake shocks are constant, and in my visit of four weeks I experienced quite half a dozen.

As we entered this beautiful bay we had reefs between us and the land, whilst on the other side a volcano, known locally as the Mother, frowned from the end of a promontory which on the north side semi-encircles Blanche Bay. Thus we gained admittance into one of nature’s busiest workshops. Our approach had been signalled. As we stopped in front of Herbertshöhe several canoes had assembled to meet us. In a boat full of natives a short distance off, I could only distinguish flat German caps of the well-known official type, surmounting frizzled hair, but as it came near I perceived that the occupants wore smart loin-cloths. Their arms showed vaccination marks, and through their armlets of woven grass had been thrust one, two, or even three European pipes. Their ear-laps hanging down to their shoulders were rich in personal property--in fact it struck me that the family heirlooms were thus safely bestowed.

They seemed excited, and when some mail-bags tumbled down the gangway my dull perception grasped the fact that I was beholding the transit of the Imperial mails. The operation interested me. The ship’s officer approaching, I asked him what these people kept repeating to each other. He explained that the one in charge was directing the others to “let them sleep,” and he pointed out that the mail-bags were being laid side by side in obedience to this injunction. The excitement of the Gazelle kanakas is intense when once the ship has rounded the low-lying wooded corner of the island (Cape Gazelle). The cry “Sail O!” is taken up and repeated from one to the other along the shore. Possibly the joy lies in the prospect of unlimited stores of tobacco, which the advent of the monthly mail from Sydney ensures.

I noticed that other natives not in official dress, who approached in canoes and gazed earnestly up at us, wore feathers or flowers with bamboo combs in their frizzled mops. In some cases the hair looked like a yellow or white door-mat, according to the individual’s taste in colour; necklaces of opossums’ teeth, highly valued, and difficult to obtain, adorned their dusky necks, whilst tight-fitting bangles on their wrists and arms, curiously carved out of the tridacna shell, together with smart loin-cloths (or lava-lavas as they are called), descending to the knees, completed, in my opinion, a very smart savage costume.

Having left her mails the steamer proceeded along a well-marked passage between reef-bound shores to her destination. Whilst waiting opposite Herbertshöhe, my attention was drawn to a church, with two spires, standing on an eminence slightly to our left, with adjacent European structures half hidden by trees, whilst below, a small schooner, a steam launch, and native craft denoted activities which apparently centred round long shed-like buildings. This was Vunapope, the property of the self-supporting Mission of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. The head of this Roman Catholic and important community was Bishop Coppée, a Frenchman, whose acquaintance I happily made. Almost opposite to where the steamer was stopping, I was given to understand that two houses standing in close proximity to each other constituted the one and only hotel in the settlement. The Governor’s residence was just visible through the palm-trees. It is situated on a commanding height and overlooks the headquarters of the New Guinea Company and the Government buildings. Not far away a landing-pier, sheds and store-houses belonging to the great trading firm of Forsyth are outstanding features along the coast-line. The senior partner of this successful commercial enterprise, known locally as Queen Emma, was to become one of my most interesting acquaintances in the Pacific. Her fine property, Ralum, with her residence, quite the finest planter’s house in the island, extends along the shore to the west of Herbertshöhe. A little distance away from the latter we passed the Wesleyan Mission’s buildings at Raluana, with its cluster of roofs and native huts. Thus south to south-west of us the gradually ascending palm-covered uplands encircled the bay. On our left, nestling at the foot of the Mother, lay the island of Matupi, its copra plantations and hot springs the property of the firm of Hernsheim & Co. It was joined to the mainland by a picturesque wooden bridge which claimed our admiration. Kanakas’ huts close to the water’s edge gave us our first impression of native life. To remind us how near we were to those subterranean, or perhaps in this case, submarine fires to which I have alluded, a rock rising to considerable height seemed to spring from the shining surface of the water. It was almost covered with vegetation, a few palm-trees aspired to fuller growth, but what was our amazement to learn that in one night, in 1878, during a terrific earthquake, it had been thrown up from the depths below!

Shortly after we lay alongside the wharf at Simpsonhafen, at the extreme end of the bay. Here we found two smaller steamers, one, the _Langeoof_, about to start shortly to various islands in the Archipelago to recruit native labour; the other, the _Sumatra_, was a trading-vessel belonging to the N.G.L., which was also preparing for an inter-island trading diversion on its way to Hong-Kong. After making arrangements to be transhipped early the following morning by the _Langeoof_ to Herbertshöhe, I accompanied some fellow-passengers who were anxious to see as much as they could during the few hours they were to remain at Simpsonhafen. We passed down the newly-constructed wooden wharf into the shed where goods being landed were carried by natives. We were not prepossessed in favour of the miscellaneous, but miserable specimens of humanity who swarmed about that quay. One shy youth was brought forward as the picture of a desirable bridegroom. His teeth, which were blackened, betokened that he was desirous of entering the married state. Pidgin-English is the vernacular in these parts, and the native, half comprehending the good-humoured banter of the ship’s officer, wriggled away from his grasp. The German introduced another of his pets--this was the most repulsive little dwarf one could possibly see--and if he had nothing better than that to show us, we told him we would wait no longer.

Nothing is more dismal than Simpsonhafen in its present stage. There are malarial swamps in close proximity to the wharf, and the place is fever-ridden; no doubt on the hills above there are healthy sites for dwellings, and probably important buildings will be erected looking down upon the harbour.

Leaving the long landing-stage we turned sharply to our right, where a road led to the post-office. We entered; it was simple enough in its internal arrangements--a gun with a collection of papers lay on the table.

“How do you like the look of that?” one of the party asked me. In view of the general disapproval felt at my leaving the ship, my reply was that fifty guns would not alter my intention to “stay over.” After buying post-cards and posting letters, we continued our way to a rudimentary inn, where we refreshed ourselves with lager beer, that _refugium peccatorum_ of these parts, for the tropical afternoon had afflicted us with an indescribable thirst. We thought it possible to compass a visit to Matupi before returning to the ship. The way was easily found, and for a couple of miles or so, we walked on good roads through plantations of palm-trees, until we came to the bridge we had seen from the ship. Here we met some companions who had left earlier than ourselves. They thought we could get natives to row us back to the steamer, so we continued our way, meeting a few kanakas occasionally. One or two carried European knives, which greatly alarmed a lady of the party. We also met some small native boys with roughly-made bows and arrows, which they kindly showed us, illustrating the fact that small children have in various climes much the same fashions in amusements. It was getting dark as we set foot on the island. Our way led past a Roman Catholic chapel built by native labour, then through a village enclosed with a split bamboo fence about four feet in height, the huts thatched with dried banana and palm-leaves. No surprise was shown at our presence; the natives were evidently accustomed to the curious glances of white people. Then after a short walk through more plantations we were hospitably received by the manager of Hernsheim’s, and sat in his verandah chatting and partaking of his hospitality until a boat belonging to the firm was announced to take us back to the steamer.

We had four natives to row us under the bridge out into the bay, and in about twenty minutes we were on the decks of the _Prinz Ferdinand_. The excursion had been delightful in its novelty, but after dinner we were even more interested in a visit we paid to the Danish Captain of the _Sumatra_. It was pitch dark, but we were courteously escorted with the aid of lanterns to the decks of perhaps the oldest ship then in the service of the N.G.L. The Captain, tall, well-built, fair, with keen eyes of the deepest blue, looked a typical Dane. For some three years it had been his lot to visit the different islands in the Archipelago for trading purposes. Ghastly tales he could tell of what had befallen white men in those seas, not by reason of wind and wave, but from man’s inhumanity to man. I shall never forget the weird sight as sitting round a table on the decks of the _Sumatra_, our only illumination a badly-trimmed paraffine lamp, we forgot the blackness of a starless tropical night, the buzz and whirring of insects, in the interest with which we listened, spell-bound, to the Dane’s racy account of adventurous days and stirring scenes. The boyish lightheartedness and charm with which he described in good English dangerous encounters with the natives of the Admiralty Islands I think we enjoyed most of all. Whenever the _Sumatra_ approached the shores of these islands for trading purposes, long canoes shot out from the coast, each carrying from twenty to fifty natives in the highest excitement, keen to exchange their copra and native commodities for knives, beads and other European articles. The speed with which they sent their canoes over the water was tremendous. The Captain considered the pace they went amounted to not less than ten knots an hour. To our inquiry if he never landed on these occasions, he explained how disaster after disaster had followed upon repeated attempts to establish trading stations on these islands, that the warlike, treacherous natives were not to be trusted. He always stood well out to sea, with full steam up, ready to be off in case of accident, and the sharpest lookout was necessary to keep the lithe, active islanders from swarming up on to the decks. In a few years, said he, settlements no doubt would be established on the island, and these picturesque sights, probably almost identical with those which are described by the first navigators in the South Seas, would be things of the past. The only person who had ever lived amongst these fierce islanders and still survived, was Bishop Coppée, although several had visited the coasts. A short time before, he had taken the prelate to an island of the group, the object of the latter being to see what could be done in the way of establishing a mission. When, at the end of a fortnight, he had called (according to agreement) to take him back to Herbertshöhe, to his surprise and relief the good bishop, unharmed, had rejoined him.

“That was just the bravest man I ever saw,” was the sailor’s verdict after a pause. It should not be long before I made his acquaintance was my mental resolve. Then we gathered that the Admiralty Islanders were greatly superior in intelligence to any other in the Archipelago, resembling the Papuans of New Guinea in living in pile-built villages over the sea. They are also not unlike the Solomon Islanders in their knowledge of seamanship in the handling of their long, well-built canoes. That they are known to take long voyages in these, is evidenced by the fact that Mr Parkinson, in his newly-published work entitled _Dreizig Yahre in den Südsee_, states how he met, in 1897, in the Schouten Group, off the north-east coast of New Guinea, two canoes full of Admiralty natives. Like the old Maoris of New Zealand, they possess a rudimentary astronomical knowledge, for they sail their ships according to what they have observed of the positions of the stars. When the Pleiades at nightfall are visible upon the horizon, then they know they may expect the north-west monsoon, and when the Scorpion makes itself visible to them at dusk of the evening, they begin to look out for the south-east winds. Besides naming the most brilliant stars, they have words to define north and south, east and west, a fact that shows that they have mastered the first elements of geography.

The Admiralty Islands consist of some forty, for the most part low-lying, reef-engirdled islands. The largest of these is, however, mountainous and about fifty miles in length. They are inhabited by three tribes--the Moánus, the Usiai and the Matankor. In the book to which I have referred, the author describes how he obtained insight into the conditions of these tribes. He was able to take down in writing from an intelligent youth, who with several others had been brought to Herbertshöhe from the Admiraltys some account of each. The passages which, I translate from the German run as follows:--

“The Moánus build houses in the sea. They understand canoes,
the rudder, how to propel the canoe with oars, they can swim.
They understand the wind, sailing, the stars, and the moon
and fishing. They agree with each other concerning spirits,
how to perform magic with the pepper-leaf, with lime. The
intelligence of the Moánus is great, their speech one and
undivided.

“The Usiai live in the bush. They do not understand how to go
by sea, nor the use of the rudder, or how to propel the canoe,
nor can they swim. In the canoe they unskilfully permit their
obsidian spears to get wet. The Usiai are cultivators of taro,
scrapers of sago, they are eaters of snakes, they eat men’s
flesh and drink sea-water. The body of the Usiai is filthy,
the breath is unpleasant, their teeth are covered with a crust
of dirt. Their speech is always different.

“The houses of the Matankor are by the shore. The Matankor
understand the canoe, how to sail and can swim. They can
make large fishing-nets. The knowledge of the Matankor is not
great. They know nothing of the stars or of the moon. They do
not understand magic with the pepper-leaf nor with the dust of
lime.”