The next day or two are thus outlined in Harry’s diary:—

“July 17th, 1903.—Some natives arrived from Deva-Deva and two from a village close by called Coo-lu-coo-lu. These natives are going for us to Ekeikei to fetch up our things, but they ask for a gun as they are afraid of the Madui people—likely!

“July 21st.—Father down with fever.

“July 23rd.—Yesterday’s report that a man had been killed proved correct. Getting some fine moths, about 300 last night—good nights are rare. Sam returned to-day with the three boys he took with him; they are to have a few days’ holiday and then they will return to us. Warm, misty, dark nights such as we are having are best for moths.

“July 28th.—To-night the best night we have had as yet, 750 specimens—94 of which were Sphingadae. On nights like this we do not go to bed at all. Getting short of boxes. We have to send to Ekeikei for material.”

Note on the Murder of Ow-bow’s Brother

One evening we heard a woman wailing down in the village and knew that something was wrong. Shortly afterwards the natives began calling, and we learned that some one had been killed. A messenger came up to tell us it was Ow-bow’s brother who had been murdered. The latter man was much disconcerted, and tried to persuade himself that it could not be so. Later on, however, the messenger came up with indisputable news, and we heard that the murder had been occasioned by a proceeding that was to some extent romantic.

It seemed that Ow-bow’s brother had some time before stolen the murderer’s wife, and taken her away to his own village and kept her there. After a time it occurred to him that having got her he might as well pay for her, after the native manner, and accordingly he visited the husband in order to settle his account. The husband, however, was not disposed to receive compensation of this sort, and accordingly he killed and ate the other. There is no doubt that he had heard of the man’s intention to come and see him, and that he laid wait for him. The victim was either speared or clubbed.

The wailing for the dead man lasted about four or five hours, which is about the limit of Papuan mourning. After that time a murder becomes merely an interesting subject of conversation, and the people gathered around the camp fires, eagerly conversing in low tones until far into the night. At first their disposition was to demand a life for a life, that they might slay and eat, although, curiously enough, they would not have committed cannibalism in the presence of a white man or a native woman!

Next day our people and the villagers held a conference; they did not meet, however, but simply contented themselves with calling from ridge to ridge. Gradually the idea of the vendetta wore out of their minds, and at last it was proposed that the murderer, instead of paying a life for a life, should simply pay a pig for the murdered man.

Accordingly two messengers brought in the compensation, slung on a pole. The pig was solemnly slain and eaten, and the incident was closed.

The next extract from my son’s diary is more important, for if his journey close to the Kebea was risky, it was not nearly so sensational as one he had afterwards to make back to Ekeikei in order to relieve our higher camp from the pinch of hunger. His own account, however, scarcely gives a hint of the peril he was in.

“July 30th.—All the boys engaged to go to Ekeikei for the sago have run away, as they say that the natives at the village of Madui are hostile. Sam has gone out carrier hunting and obtained only two.

“July 31st.—I left this morning (as we are out of trade and provisions) at 6 o’clock for Ekeikei, arriving there at 4.30, but it was 2 A.M. before I could rest.

“Sat., Aug. 1st.—Left Ekeikei early about 7 A.M., and reached Madui about 4 o’clock. Had a bad night; it was very long, and I had no sleep at all. The mist very thick over the Madui hills. A good night for moths had it not been so light.”

“Aug. 2nd.—Reached the Kebea at 3 P.M.

“Aug. 3rd.—Very busy making sago boxes.

“Aug. 4th.—They killed another man at Madui the night I was there—they are killing a lot of men, women, and children.”

The incident here outlined by my son may well bear a little further amplification. Trade and provisions had all but failed us, and I could not possibly go back myself to our base at Ekeikei without serious loss of time. It would have been out of the question, too, to take back the whole party. There were sufficient indications of the unrest among the natives at the time, and consequently it was nothing but the direst necessity that induced me to accept Harry’s offer to go down himself with a few carriers to bring up what we required. I had great confidence in the lad’s common sense, he knew the language, and he seemed to have the knack of dealing with the natives. After serious consideration of the risk, therefore, I agreed to let him go. At first it was not easy to get our carriers to undertake the journey, so evil was the reputation of the village of Madui through which the party must pass, but after persuasion we got the consent of a sufficient number, and not without serious misgivings, which I was careful to conceal, did I watch the little party set out. The matter, however, was urgent. Starvation, rebellion, and desertion of my followers threatened us had we been left absolutely destitute. On the way down Harry and his party got through Madui safely. They reached Ekeikei, procured what they wanted from our stores, and began the toilsome ascent once more. At Madui trouble awaited them. There had been a native fracas, a man had just been murdered, and the blood-lust was strong in the people, who, on Harry’s arrival, demanded that he should give up one of his boys to be killed and eaten. My son, though well armed, had the wisdom not to make any parade of force, and resorted to persuasion. After much argument, he persuaded the Madui people to forego their demand, but it is not surprising that during the night, in the course of which another murder was committed, he kept the strictest watch, allowing himself not a wink of sleep. One can well believe he found the vigil “long.” In the morning they got clear away with their loads, and the same evening I was, needless to say, relieved and delighted to welcome them back to my camp on the Kebea. No youth of my son’s age has ever, I am sure, undertaken so hazardous a journey among the New Guinea cannibals.

“Preparations to leave the Kebea for Foula.

“Aug. 8th.—Left the Kebea at 9 A.M. Left eight loads behind me. Reached Coo-lu-coo-lu at 11 A.M. We ascended a hill 4000 feet high, then descended 2000 feet, very steep, then up again to Coo-lu-coo-lu. Many of the inhabitants are absent making sago.

“Aug. 11th.—Kept two days for our relays. Only by studying the daily routine of this journal can any one realise the difficulty of getting about in New Guinea.

“Reached Babooni after three hours’ walk, and then descended 1000 feet to the river Aculama.

“Aug. 12th.—We arrived at Amana at 10 A.M. There is a tree-house here, 40 feet above the ground—used as a look-out station. A small village, and the people bad. About two months ago the chief murdered a man and a boy close to our yesterday’s camp. We heard of five other recent murders. There is a lunatic here, the first and only lunatic we saw in New Guinea. We sent an armed native to call Foula to our aid for carrying.”

Notes on Amana and the Tree-House

Amana was a most peculiar village, and like Yo-ya-ka was built on an extremely narrow ridge, so narrow indeed that we could not pitch our fly-tent there, but slept in a house the front part of which overhung a precipice. The house commanded a most lovely view far away into the valley, the slopes of which were covered with dense wood. We could see the river flashing at intervals through the greenery; it must at least have been 1500 feet below us, but the roar of the torrent came up to us with great distinctness. As we approached Amana our carriers suddenly put down all their loads and would not enter. On being asked why, they said that some time before the chief of Amana had killed one of their people.

We went in and made the acquaintance of this worthy. He was rather a personable character, quite bald, and with a very noble forehead, but, like most of the more degraded aborigines, he could not look the white man in the face. On hearing of our approach he became frightened and retreated to a tree-house, one of the most remarkable curiosities which we saw in New Guinea. In the village was a large tree, the trunk of which reached up about 20 feet bare of branches, and then the main stem divided into a fork. Among the branches were two platforms. To the first there was a very rude ascent, a rough ladder consisting of two uprights with rungs placed at an angle of at least 65 degrees. Above that was the second platform, forming the bottom of the house, which was reached by steps, very narrow, but not so far apart as the steps of the lower ladder. The tree-house is not uncommon in New Guinea, but it is very exceptional to find two platforms. The uprights and ladders were made of bamboo, and the rungs were made of boughs cut anyhow with walo, a species of cane which grows to a length of 20 feet, and is used for lashings. Each cane is the size of a thick pencil, and has a spiky outer cover. This is peeled off when the cane is ripe, and it is then split, an operation requiring great dexterity, and one which can only be performed by the Papuans themselves, for none but a native could split a 20–foot cane cleanly down its entire length.

The higher platform which supported the house measured about 12 feet by 6 feet; it was made of bamboo cross-pieces, interlaced with bark. The roof was covered with grass, and the only aperture was one small door, over which the thatch came closely down. There was just room for a person to crawl in.

We had considerable difficulty in inducing the chief to leave his retreat, but at length he summoned up sufficient courage to come out and speak to us.

At Amana we noticed no conical houses, the dwellings being for the most part of the kind known as the “lean-to.”

We noticed various other curiosities at Amana. One was a rather mysterious grave, just outside the village at the point where the carriers put down their loads. This place, which for some reason or other was regarded as sacred, was surrounded by a low stockade, but no attempt was made to keep the enclosure—which was quite overgrown—in order, and we learned nothing regarding its origin, for the Papuans are a people without a history.

The people wore an ornament, which we also noticed among the Tugeri in Dutch New Guinea. This was the oval, highly-polished grey seed of a species of grass which grows at Amana. The villagers wore the seeds on strings or singly in their hair. The Tugeri string the seed into necklaces and wristlets. As the grass grows only at Amana, it is a certain proof of communication between the Tugeri and the hill tribes.

The Lunatic at Amana

In the village of Amana we met the only halfwitted Papuan we saw in New Guinea. He had been imbecile from his birth, and at the time we saw him his age was probably from 28 to 30, but it might have been less. He could not speak and was very deaf. He was of a very pale coffee colour, and might probably have stood about 5 feet 6 inches, but he was strangely bent and very thin. He communicated with his fellows by means of signs, and was regarded in the village as quite an amusing character. In fact, to the best of my belief, he was maintained by the villagers simply because of the amusement they got out of him. He had a mother alive who was quite sane, but he himself lived alone, and was very nervous about coming out to see the white man. The tribesmen, however, were determined to show him off, and after a great deal of persuasion he was brought up to me.

They made signs to him to dance, and this was evidently a common pastime, for, without the least reluctance, he began his performance, which was unskilled enough and slightly repulsive. His dancing consisted of wobbling the head and feet at a tremendous rate and putting out his tongue. As soon as he began to show off, the Amana people sat down in front of him and enjoyed the spectacle. He took his mission of purveyor of diversion with deadly seriousness, and all the time he danced he made a strange mumbling noise. He was popular with the children also, and they would bring him out and set him dancing whenever they felt dull. For clothes he wore the usual native costume of the mountains, except the tight belt, which was perhaps too much an adjunct of dandyism for this unfortunate to affect. Not only would he dance at the word of command, but he would take off all his clothes to order, and carrying his meagre garments over his arm, he would run from one end of the village to the other clapping his hands in slow time. It was considered superexcellent fun to make him dance with his clothes off, and all the time the Philistines made game of the poor creature, who, however, was no Samson!

Another primitive jest was to give him unpalatable and impossible things to eat, but they had the decency never to let him actually eat a gift of charcoal—a not uncommon present—although they allowed him to come within an ace of doing so. He was tremendously greedy, and when cooking or eating was going on he would try to grab all he could. As soon as we began to prepare a meal he lost all fear of us, and pursued his usual tactics. He would snatch at our plates like a dog, seize as much as he could, and long before one could say that curiously cumbrous phrase “Jack Robinson,” he would have it all stuffed into his mouth. If we told him to go away, he would remove himself for about five yards and sit down. In a very few minutes he had crawled up again and would make another raid upon our dishes.

We had some most interesting conversations regarding the lunatic with Ow-bow, who told us what was to be known of his family history. Ow-bow said descriptively that he was “bad inside,” and added oracularly, “Olana lakuana,” which means, “Head no good.” We asked particularly if such a person would have been allowed to marry, whereupon Ow-bow gave an emphatic negative, saying, “Wabeeni daba kadena enai makana affi?” which is literally, “Woman what kind this fellow have?” (“What sort of woman would have this fellow?”) The poor unfortunate was, however, extremely harmless. One could do what one liked with him, for he was never known to lose his temper.

“Aug. 13th.—Several carriers came, and we started at 10 A.M. and arrived at Foula at 3 P.M. It is a fairly large village for this part. They speak quite a different language from that of the Kebea and Dinawa. We rigged up a temporary verandah for our work. To-day we got a few good butterflies, but few moths at night; too much light. The height of our camp here is 2600 feet. We bought a pig to-day, killed it, and found it quite a treat; the meat was very good, and it afforded us fat for cooking.”

Foula Village

Just before the entrance to Foula village we noticed the evidences of a great land-slide, which had left the ridge of rock, along which our path lay, as clean as a piece of china. The path had thus been rendered perilous, but the natives had had the sense to put up a light bamboo rail on each side, and this was extremely fortunate, for there was hardly room for the foot, and a slip would have certainly meant disaster, for the descent was sheer on each side for several hundred feet.

Foula is one of the sweetest villages imaginable. There are really two villages—the upper and the lower. The upper one contains about fifteen to twenty houses arranged in a circle, and the approach to it is through an avenue of beautiful crotons planted by the natives. To reach the lower village one had to descend for about ten minutes. This other hamlet, which is picturesquely situated close to a fine waterfall, is divided into two parts, a narrow ridge connecting the two. The houses in this village stand in a line, and are very substantially built. Past them runs what looks like a road of well-trodden red clay, which seemed as if it had been rolled, and the whole place had the appearance of being beautifully kept.

The Foula people were of a Jewish type of feature. Their language differs considerably from the dialects we had heard.