SAMOAN AMUSEMENTS — PIGEON CATCHING — THE DECOY BIRDS, AND MODE OF USING THEM — TRAINING THE BIRDS — FISHING: THE NET AND THE LINE — DARING MODE OF SHARK CATCHING — A BOLD FISHERMAN — CURIOUS ACCIDENTS TO THE DIVERS: THE SHARK AND THE CORAL — THE BOAR HUNT — A DANGEROUS FOE — SAMOAN COOKERY — THE PALOLO — ITS CURIOUS APPEARANCE, MODE IN CAPTURE, AND WAY OF COOKING IT — MARRIAGE IN SAMOA — CEREMONIES IN THE MARRIAGE OF A CHIEF — THE WEDDING FEAST AND DANCES — SAMOAN ARCHITECTURE — DIVISION OF THE HOUSE BY MOSQUITO CURTAINS.

The amusements of the Samoans are in many respects identical with those of other Polynesians, and therefore only those will be described wherein is anything characteristic of these islanders. One of the principal sports is pigeon shooting, which is carried on in certain parts of the wood expressly prepared for it. The principle on which the sport is followed much resembles that of the rat shooting practised by the Tongans. Several chiefs agree to go off on a pigeon-catching expedition, and at the appointed time the fowling ground is cleared of bush, a large circle is marked out by stones, and just outside the circle are made a number of ambushes, formed from leaves and branches, which are cut fresh daily.

The sport is preluded by a drink of kava, and when this indispensable preliminary is over, the chiefs repair to their stations, each having a net and a trained bird. The net is small, and is fixed to the end of a bamboo, thirty or even forty feet in length. The bird is perched on a stick near its master, and is attached to its perch by a string forty or fifty yards in length.

At a given signal, the birds are thrown into the air, and, following the instructions they have received, wheel round and round for some little time. The wild pigeons see them from a distance, and fancying from their movements that they are hovering over food, fly to join them. As they wheel to and fro with the decoy birds, the chiefs raise their nets and dexterously capture them. He who takes the greatest number of pigeons wins the game, and receives from each of the other players a stake which has been previously fixed upon. Generally the stakes consist of food or kava roots, and in such cases the winner practically gains nothing but the honor of winning the game, as the food is cooked and distributed by the winner to all his companions, and the kava is converted into drink.

These bird-catching parties last for a very long time, the players sometimes remaining on the spot for a month. Huts are consequently run up around the open space on which the birds are flown. The second engraving on the next page illustrates this sport very accurately.

The decoy birds are most carefully trained, the object of the trainer being to make them rise at the word of command, fly to the end of the string, wheel round in graceful circles for some time, and then return to the perch. When a bird will remain on the wing for five minutes and return to its perch at its master’s call, it is considered as having been highly trained, and is held in great estimation. The natives may be often seen engaged in training the birds in the open space in the centre of the village. The birds are encouraged in their flight by a peculiar mode of jerking the string.

Fishing is a very favorite amusement with the Samoans, who display a wonderful amount of skill and often of courage in their sport. The latter quality is chiefly brought into play when the natives are occupied in shark fishing. Whenever a great feast is to be held, the fishermen go off in search of sharks, the flesh of this fish being one of the principal dainties of Samoa. The fishermen go off in canoes, each canoe being manned by two or three fishermen, who are supplied with a strong rope, having a noose at one end and a quantity of animal offal.

Going to the edge of the lagoon, where the sharks lie under shelter of the rocks, the men throw the offal overboard, for the double purpose of attracting and gorging the sharks. They then peer into the water, and when one of the fishermen sees a shark lazily stretching itself on the sand that lies under the overhanging rocks, he lets himself very quietly into the sea, dives down with the rope in his hand, slips the noose over the shark’s tail, and rises to the surface. As soon as he gets into the boat, the men drag the shark out of his retreat, and haul away until the creature’s tail is raised out of the sea, when it becomes nearly helpless. A sudden jerk brings it into the canoe, where it is instantly killed.

Sometimes the shark lies in a deep submarine cave, with only its head out of the opening. The Samoan fisherman, however, is not to be baffled by this attitude, but dives down to the shark, and taps it gently on the head. The fish, replete with food, feels annoyed at the interruption, and turns round, exposing as it does so its tail to the daring fisherman, who slips the noose over it in a moment.

One young man, mentioned by Mr. Pritchard, was celebrated for his daring in this sport. He disdained assistance, and used to go out alone in a little canoe, dropping bait overboard in order to attract the sharks, and throwing his noosed rope over their tails. On one occasion the rope broke, but the brave fellow had no idea of losing both shark and rope. He leaped overboard among all the sharks, seized the rope, scrambled into his canoe again, and, after a long and severe struggle, succeeded in killing his shark and towing it ashore.

Sometimes the hook is used in shark fishing. The fishermen bait a hook, carry it out in a canoe in twelve feet or so of water, and bring the line back to land. Before very long a shark is nearly sure to seize the bait; and when the fish is fairly hooked, several men haul at the rope and drag the shark into shallow water, where it is allowed to flounce about until it is exhausted, and is then killed without difficulty.

Such a sport as this is necessarily attended with much danger, but the Samoan fisherman is nearly as much at home in the water as the shark itself, and treats his dangerous game with the same easy indifference which a Spanish matador displays toward a furious bull. Accidents certainly do happen in both cases, but they are the exception, and not the rule.

Another of their amusements which is dangerous is pig hunting. As the swine are allowed to run loose in the woods, they have reverted to their wild modes of life, and are sly, swift, active, and ferocious. It is thought a point of honor for a chief to challenge a wild boar, and to receive no assistance except in case of extreme need. The hunter is armed with his knife and tomahawk, or sometimes with a whale spade, which makes a very formidable weapon if the edges are kept sharp.

To kill one of the animals is no easy task. In the first place, a wild boar is so quick that nothing but the greatest activity can save the hunter from its tusks; and were the fight to take place on an open plain instead of among trees, behind which the hunter can jump when hard pressed, the beast might probably get the better of the man. Then the boar is wonderfully tenacious of life, and has a skin so tough that a sharp weapon and a strong arm are needed to inflict a mortal wound. Even when the animal has fallen, and is apparently dead, an experienced hunter always drives his knife into its throat, as boars have an awkward way of suddenly reviving, leaping on their legs, and dashing through their foes into the bush.

The sows are even more dangerous antagonists than the boars. They are, as a rule, lighter, thinner, and more active, and, although they have no long tusks wherewith to rip up their foes, they can bite as sharply and as quickly as wolves. Indeed, were it not for the dogs which are trained to boar-hunting, and are wonderfully courageous and skilful, though very ugly and most unpromising to the eye, they would seldom be brought to bay.

Mr. Pritchard gives an account of an adventure of his own with a boar, which gives an excellent idea of the ferocity, cunning, and activity of the animals. The boar had actually received two rifle bullets in his left shoulder, inflicting wounds which would have disabled, if not killed, most animals, but seemed only to irritate the boar by the pain.

“The fury of the beast was intense, with its two wounds and the worrying of the dogs. He stood grinding his teeth and frothing at the mouth, looking first at one and then at another of us, as if measuring an antagonist for fight. The chief suggested that one of us should tackle him, while the others looked on without interfering. Of course I had to claim the privilege to do so after such a challenge; though, in truth, this being the first boar I had ever encountered, I felt as if I had somewhat rashly undertaken the combat, for, even with his two wounds, I fancied he might possibly hold out longer than myself, and, if I failed to kill him, the failure would be fine sport for my comrades, and not soon forgotten in their jokes.

“However, I stepped out in front of the infuriated beast, and no sooner was I there than he was there too—quite promptly enough, I thought. He made a furious charge at me, which I received with the butt end of my rifle, trying to throw him over on his wounded side, but ineffectually. A second time he came at me, and a second time I checked him. As he drew up for the third charge, his long bristles standing on end, grinding his tusks and tossing the froth from his huge mouth, I drew my tomahawk. On he came, swifter than ever; the tomahawk fell deep into the thick part of his neck, and my boy Atamu did the rest with his long knife.

“It was rather hot work, for these boars have immense strength and no little dogged pluck, and their skins are so tough that often a spear will break short off without leaving even a mark where it struck.”

The same boar had previously forced the writer to employ rather a ludicrous manœuvre. He had fired at the shoulder of the animal, thinking that, if the bullet did not reach the heart, it would at all events disable him. But the boar made at him almost as it received the shot, and sprang on him so quickly that he was forced to jump over its head upon its back, and roll off toward the nearest tree. The smaller pigs are killed in a different manner. The dogs are trained to catch them by the ears, shoulders, and tail, and when the hunters come up they place a stick across the animal’s throat, and press it down until the pig is dead.

As to the cookery of the Samoans, there is little to distinguish it from that of the Tongans and other Polynesians of the same race. They have a great abundance of dishes, being able to produce almost as great a variety in that respect as the Fijians, and many of their dishes are extremely palatable to an European. Vegetables form the staple of the Samoan’s food, and of those he has abundant choice. Putting aside those vegetables which have been imported from Europe, he has yams, taro, bananas, bread-fruit, cocoa-nuts, and plantains. Sometimes these are cooked separately and sometimes mixed, in order to produce a compound more palatable to native taste. As a rule, the simpler specimens of Samoan cookery please even the English palate, but when the native cooks dress compound dishes the natives are generally the only persons who can eat them.

For instance, there is nothing better in its way than the young cocoa-nut, which is entirely different from the hard, indigestible state in which we see it in England. But when the milk is poured out, its place is supplied with salt water, and the contents allowed to become putrid, the compound is offensive to more senses than one. Some of their compounds are, however, excellent. Such is a sort of pudding made by pouring the juice of cocoa-nuts over bananas, and baking them together. Even the very young kernel of the cocoa-nut makes a very rich dish when baked.

The strangest diet of the Samoans is the annelid called the Palolo (Palolo viridis). Mr. Pritchard gives an excellent account of this curious being and the mode of cooking it.

It appears only in certain strictly defined and very limited localities in each group (i. e. in Fiji, Tonga, and Samoa); a month earlier, about the first week in November, in Samoa than in the two other groups. It rises directly from the bottom of the sea to the surface, appearing first about four o’clock in the morning, and continuing to increase in number, until about half an hour after sunrise, when it begins to dissolve, and gradually disappears. By eight o’clock not a trace of the palolo remains in the sea. They look just like so many worms, from an inch to a yard in length, showing every conceivable color as they wriggle about, and are soft to the touch.

“The time of their appearance is calculated by the old men of the various tribes, and is known by the sun, moon, and stars having a particular bearing to each other. A month before the great appearance, a few are found in each of the localities where they rise. Parties go out in their canoes to watch for this first appearance, for by it the calculation as to the second and great appearance is verified.

“When that time comes, whole villages, men, women, and children, crowd the scene; by two o’clock the sea is covered with canoes, the outriggers getting foul and breaking adrift without distracting the attention, as by four o’clock all are busied scooping up the palolos and pouring them into baskets made for the occasion. The noise and excitement from four to six o’clock is something astonishing, and the scrambling most amusing. And when, with canoes landed, the crowd disperses, the next thing is to prepare the ovens to cook the palolos, which are merely wrapped in bread-fruit leaves. They are sent round with much formality to friends at a distance, and sometimes kept three or four weeks by being occasionally warmed in an oven.

“I never could muster courage to do more than merely taste them, so repulsive is their very appearance as they roll and coil together, though Englishmen and even English women there are who eat them, and professedly with a relish, for which I suppose one cannot but accept their word. One lady in particular there is, as described by Dr. Seeman, a ‘strong-minded individual,’ who eats palolo with a remarkable gusto. I think she will not be deprived of her fancy dish by many of her visitors.”

There has been much discussion about the palolo, many persons having doubted whether it was ever an annelid, and believing the worms to be mere strings of spawn. The question has, however, been settled, and there is an elaborate paper on the palolo in the “Transactions of the Linnæan Society,” vol. xxii. p. 237.

The worm is allied to the well-known Nereids, several species of which are so plentiful on our own shores. It is flattish, about the sixth of an inch in width, and consists of a vast number of segments. The entire specimen has never been secured, so delicate and fragile is the creature, and it is with the greatest difficulty that a head can be discovered. Among the specimens first sent to the British Museum, not a single head could be found, and among a large bottle full of palolo collected expressly for scientific purposes, only one head was discovered. The head is a little narrower than the joints which compose the neck, and is furnished with two little eyes on the upper surface, between which are placed three tentacles, of which the middle is the longest.

The normal color of the annelid is green, and it is remarkable for the regularly dotted appearance of the back, one black dot being placed on the middle of each segment. So regularly does the palolo make its appearance, that among the Fiji group the months of October and November are known by the names of the Little Palolo and Great Palolo, the former being the month in which it is first seen, and the second that in which it makes its grand appearance.

Marriages in Samoa are conducted much like those of Tonga, the latter group of islands having borrowed many of the Samoan customs. It is thought rather below the dignity of a chief to court a wife for himself, and that office is generally undertaken by his friends, who praise him in the most unmeasured terms, and do all in their power to induce the girl to yield. When her consent has been given, the chief sends property to her father, and receives in return fine mats and other articles, this exchange being considered as the betrothal.

On the day of marriage, the bride, well anointed with oil, colored with turmeric, and dressed in large quantities of the finest mats, is placed in the malae, or open space in the centre of the village, attended by her young friends, who are arrayed in all the gorgeousness of savage finery, with wreaths of flowers and nautilus shells on their heads. She is also accompanied by the two duennas who have had charge of her, and who chant her praises and extol her virtue. The object of this public assembly is to prove whether the girl be worthy to be the wife of a chief. Should the verdict be in her favor, she is presented to the people as the chief’s wife, and, amid their acclamations, is taken into the house by her duennas and attendants. Should, as is very seldom the case, the verdict be adverse, all the male members of her family, even her fathers and brothers, rush on her with their clubs and kill her on the spot, in order to take away the disgrace which she has brought on her house.

After the bride has been led away there is a grand dance. This differs somewhat from the dances which are usually seen among the Polynesians. The spectators being seated in a circle round a cleared space, and keeping up a monotonous chant, the men first enter the circle, led by a young chief, and clothed merely in the little leaf apron, so as to show off the tattoo to the best advantage. Their leader goes through a vast number of steps, sometimes leaping high in the air, and sometimes executing movements of a slower and more graceful character, while every step is watched and criticised as it is danced by the leader and imitated by his followers. After the men have danced for some time they retire, and a number of girls enter, who go through evolutions of a similar character, and afterward both men and women dance together.

The houses of the Samoans are all built on the same model. They are very conservative in some of their ideas, and follow implicitly the plan which was adopted by the chief who, according to their traditions, first built a dwelling. At a distance, the appearance of the house has been compared to a large mushroom.

The first process is, to make a large platform of rough stones, covered with gravel, extending some twenty feet on every side beyond the walls of the house. In the centre are planted three posts, standing about twenty-five feet out of the ground. Upon these central posts are supported the rafters of the roof, one end of each rafter being fixed to them, and the other end to the tops of short posts about four feet high, which form, or rather which do duty for, the walls of the house. Real walls there are none, but at night the space between the posts is closed by blinds made of plaited cocoa-nut leaves. The whole framework of the roof is made in several sections, so that it can be removed.

The thatch is made of the leaves of the sugar-cane, nailed by the women to reeds with spikes made of the ribs of the cocoa-nut leaves. About four thousand leaves are required for thatching a house, and they are lashed carefully with cocoa-nut fibre.

The floor of the house is strewn with very fine gravel and covered with mats. There are no separate chambers, but at night the house is divided into a number of sleeping places by means of the mosquito curtains which are attached to the central post, and let down when required. It is a point of etiquette that all guests should be supplied with clean mats. The pillow used in Samoa is like that of Fiji, and is nothing more than a stick supported on a foot at each end.