We left Murray Island at 10 a.m., September 8th, by the Nieue, which the Rev. James Chalmers very kindly sent to us. A small crowd assembled to bid us farewell, and I know many of the natives were genuinely sorry that we were leaving. We spent such a happy and profitable time there, that we shall always have a soft corner in our hearts for this beautiful island.

We reached Erub (Darnley Island) about 3 p.m., landed, and called on Captain H—, who entertained us with his reminiscences of New Guinea. We sailed at daybreak next morning, and reached Daru in the early afternoon. About midday we ran on to a sandbank, but as the tide was rising this did not much matter; in fact, it was rather convenient, as we were thus enabled to have a meal on a steady boat, a matter of importance to some of our party.

At Daru we were boarded by Mr. H. W. de Lange, the Sub-Collector of Customs. Our little formal business was soon over, and we then called on the Hon. Bingham A. Hely, the very efficient Resident Magistrate. He kindly asked us to dinner, and we had an interesting talk about the natives of his division. Mr. Hely has lately made some observations on the important subject of totemism. On Sunday, September 11th, we arrived at Saguane in the forenoon, and Tamate, my old friend the Rev. James Chalmers, who has been described as the Livingstone of New Guinea, gave us a hearty welcome.

Unfortunately Mrs. Chalmers was ill with fever, which had prostrated her for some time. Tamate, as he likes to be called by his black and white friends, had also been quite ill from the effects of a nasty fall from a verandah in the dark, and he was scarcely well yet; indeed, it appeared to me that his health was much shaken, and no wonder, when one remembers all the hardships and privations he has undergone during his strenuous life of self-sacrifice.

Saguane is a small village at the southern extremity of Kiwai Island. The native village is dilapidated, and has a poverty-stricken appearance, probably owing to the fact that the village is only occupied for part of the year.

The Mission premises were adequate, but as little money as possible had been spent upon them, as even then it was by no means certain that Saguane would remain the permanent headquarters of the Fly River branch of the London Missionary Society. The buildings consisted of the Chalmers’ comfortable house, the church, which was also used as a schoolroom, a good schoolroom for the seniors, a study, and other rooms, also the South Sea teachers’ houses, the students’ houses, and various offices.

Saguane was a central and convenient spot for the Mission, but that is about all that could be said in its favour. The whole island is but little above sea-level; it is malarial, and the water-supply is poor. Although the place does not look healthy, Chalmers says it is the healthiest part of the district, except Daru. A considerable amount of Mission land had already been washed away by the sea, that end of the island having been greatly reduced in size of late years; indeed, since this account was written, the Mission station had practically been devastated by the sea, and Mr. Chalmers had commenced to build a new station on Daru.

From many points of view it was a disheartening place, and it was a wonder Tamate bore up so cheerfully. He had great difficulties with teachers, South Sea men are often unsatisfactory, and the Torres Straits islanders are practically useless as native teachers; so Tamate was endeavouring to educate his own men as teachers, but it was a long and wearisome task. Tamate had a very large area under his charge, his district was undermanned, and he was greatly in need of money help, as he was naturally very anxious to have a steam-launch for river work. Alas! Tamate will never require the steamer for which he was longing. In order to keep out as far as possible the gloom which subsequent events have cast over our memory of Chalmers, I will continue my narrative in the form in which it was written prior to the tragedies to which I refer.

Like other mission stations, the instruction of the young plays a prominent, one might fairly say the prominent, part in the work of the missionaries. Here it is especially needed, as these semi-migratory natives are ruder in culture than those we had met with in the east, and even the energy, enthusiasm, and sympathy of Mr. Chalmers can make relatively little impression on the adult population; but, indeed, this is pretty much the case with adults everywhere.

There are two schools in Saguane. A lower school for the village children, who reside with their parents. These are taught in the Kiwai language by the South Sea teacher and his wife. The attendance leaves much to be desired, as the children have to follow their parents in their annual migration to Iasa, and thus they lose two or three months in the year; and even during the time they reside at Saguane, neither the parents nor the children sufficiently appreciate the advantages of the instruction so freely offered to them.

The students of the upper school are all resident, and both sexes attend; I believe there are about a score in all. The English language is exclusively used. They learn reading, writing, easy arithmetic, geography, and Scripture. It is usual with Papuan children for their writing to be very good, and they have quite a remarkable knowledge of geography. The highest class can read English fairly well at sight. As in Murray Island, the change from one subject to another in school-time is made the occasion of marching and singing, which affords a welcome opportunity for blowing off steam. The children are neatly clothed, but wisely they are not overclothed. It is to be hoped that many of the students will volunteer as teachers to the various stations that Tamate is anxious to establish. Some will, doubtless, become Government servants; and there can be no question that they will render the Government great assistance in the future. Sir William Macgregor has often referred to the efficiency of the Mission schools.

Shortly after our visit Mr. de Lange was sailing with a native crew from Kiwai to Daru, when he was overtaken by a squall and his boat capsized. The boatmen were very plucky, and did all they could to save Mr. de Lange; but this promising officer was unfortunately drowned. The natives proved themselves in this emergency to be brave and faithful followers.

In addition to the instruction given in the school, the students are introduced to a more civilised mode of life; and the raising of the standard of cleanliness and comfort will of itself tend to improve the condition of the people. Perhaps the home life of the South Sea teachers is in this respect of more value than that of the white missionaries, for the latter are so obviously above the natives, and have access to what must appear to them to be limitless resources, that a real comparison can scarcely be made.

That this was the case was proved to me in an amusing, but at the same time pathetic, manner a day or two later. When I was at Iasa my opinion was confidentially asked by the chief about the missionaries, as Mr. Chalmers had persuaded them to accept a South Sea teacher, who was then at Saguane learning the language. My friends had been describing to me certain ceremonies they employ for the purpose of making the crops grow, and they were really anxious about the wisdom of adopting the new religion, which they fully realised would require them to give up these practices; for if they did not do as their fathers had done, how could the yams and sago grow? “It’s all very fine,” they urged, “for Tamate, as everything he eats comes out of tins which he gets from the store at Thursday Island; but how about us?”

The native teachers, on the other hand, live largely on “native food,” and cultivate their own gardens. The students are trained to do the same, and the girls are taught to sew and make simple garments, and to be clean and orderly.

Mr. Hely, in his last Annual Report, states that “there has been a great demand for teachers; in fact, what amounts to a religious revival has taken place at Mawatta, Tureture, Parama, and elsewhere. It is to be hoped that it will continue. Mr. Chalmers has been hampered by the seeming difficulty of procuring teachers for this portion of the possession. Men of good culture are required at such places as Mawatta and Tureture.

“At Parama the Darnley Islander, Edagi, has worked hard. He has built a very creditable church, with the aid of the people, with whom he is very popular, and has a large school attendance. At Giavi there is a Murray Islander, but I think that the results of his ministrations are small.”

We spent a quiet Sunday; the rest and comfort of the Mission station was most refreshing. I showed photographs and rubbings of patterns to some natives in the afternoon, and obtained a little information from them.

These mission stations are oases of kindness and comfort in savage lands. When one has been knocking about for days in a boat, with uncomfortable, and often unpalatable meals, and being always wet, and having broken nights, the rest in a haven of a clean mission-house is delightful.

Ray, Wilkin, and I started next morning in the Nieue for Iasa, the chief village and virtually the native capital of Kiwai Island, some twelves miles away. The whole district is very flat, and the shore fringed with a monotonous row of mangroves, a line only broken at Iasa by a grove of coconut palms. As at Saguane, the river is eating away the land which it had previously deposited, and we noticed large numbers of prostrate coco palms which had been uprooted by the encroaching water. Also as at Saguane, an extensive flat bank runs out a long way into the river, and thus the Nieue had to anchor a considerable distance from the shore.

The village consists of sixteen houses, all of large size. Five of the houses belong to local natives; the others are owned by natives from other districts. Each house is occupied solely by members of one clan, but there were two instances of one clan owning a couple of houses.

We took up our quarters at the west end-room of the longest house. This house was 285 feet in length, and was built on piles about seven feet from the ground; there was a broad ladder at each end leading up to the main entrances. Along the side facing the river were five small doors, each provided with a slight ladder, and it is only by these that the women and children may enter or leave the house. There were two doorways on the opposite side of the house, which at the time of our visit were not in use, as there were no ladders to them.

There is a separate room at each end of a house, which is evidently merely the deep verandah of the typical house of the Papuan Gulf walled in close to the gable. These end-rooms are the men’s quarters, and correspond to the club-houses and tabooed erections of other parts of New Guinea.

Over a considerable portion of New Guinea the men have a social life which is distinct from the family life, and is hedged round with observances and taboos. In a given community there are usually several societies or fraternities into which entrance can only be gained by undergoing certain initiation ceremonies. These are jealously guarded, and the mysteries are performed in sacred spots in the bush, which are tabooed to all women, children, and non-initiates, or they may take place in houses set apart for the purpose, such as the large erabo (elamo or eramo) of the Gulf District described by Mr. Chalmers. In these the sacred emblems are kept, and although I prefer to speak of them as “club-houses,” Mr. Chalmers was perhaps justified in originally calling them “temples.” The end-rooms of the Kiwai houses are to be regarded rather as club-houses than temples, as are also the marea of the Mekeo District, and the dubu of the Central District.

The long central portion of the house constitutes the dwelling of all the members of the clan, each family having its own compartment with a separate fireplace. Owing to the absence of windows, it was difficult to see any details when looking down the tunnel-like house; for the doorways let in but very little light. At night, when the family fires were burning and there was plenty of smoke reflecting and dispersing the lights, one could more readily gather an impression of the weird scene. Into, and out from, the sombre shadows there passed lank women and jolly children, whose bronze skins were picturesquely lit up by the flickering yellow flames.

We traded a little with natives, and Ray gave some tunes on the phonograph. At night-time we found much difficulty in getting back to the Nieue, as it was low water and a strong tide was running. We waded out a long way on the mud-flats, till the water was nearly up to our waists, and the breakers completely drenched us. After getting into water deep enough to float our boat we had a long wearisome pull to the Nieue, but we feared we should have to put back for land after all, as the current was strongly against us. However, the captain of the Nieue noticed our difficulties and, weighing anchor, sailed to meet us, but for this we should not have been able to get aboard. Dry clothes and a meal soon restored us to comfort.

Next morning we returned to Iasa. Wilkin made a careful study of the long house. I measured ten men and did some trading. We were allowed to appropriate the eastern end-room of the long house, and towards evening lighted a fire, sitting by which we had our dinner, a crowd of natives watching our every action with great interest. We afterwards bought some specimens, whilst Ray gave a phonographic exhibition, and secured two good records. The pungent wood smoke was very trying to the eyes, but this was preferable to returning to the boat; later we wrapped ourselves in blankets and passed the night on a native mat.

The following morning we took some photographs, and I sketched the interior of the long house. Whilst the others were embarking I sent the small boys away, and had a confidential chat with the men about several of their customs, and obtained some most interesting information from them. We became very friendly, and the men expressed sorrow when it was time for us to leave. One man said to me, “You master good master; you master no same other master.” By which he meant to express his gratitude for the sympathy I had given them and the interest I had taken in their affairs. I must confess that I was much touched by this unconsciously pathetic revelation of the apartness of the two races. Altogether they were very nice to me, and one or two of us walked to the boat with arms round one another.

The Kiwai people are somewhat different from the Torres Straits islanders in appearance and customs; their skin is very slightly lighter, and the nose is more arched; they do not use ceremonial masks except for the final stage of initiation, and they build long houses. There are other differences which need not now be mentioned. I think it is very probable that they came down the Fly River and drove some at least of the pre-existing population before them.

A very interesting feature about the Kiwai natives is that they are still in a totemistic stage of culture; in other words, their social life is bound up with a reverence for certain natural objects. A community is composed of certain clans, each of which is associated with a particular class of object; it may be a crocodile, a croton, or a pandanus tree. The animal or bird, or even an inanimate object, is the nurumara, as they call it, of every member of that clan, and a representation of that nurumara or totem is often worn on the person or carved on objects or otherwise employed as a kind of armorial bearings.

The following is a list of all the totems I have been able to record from Kiwai Island:—

• Sibara, crocodile.
• Diwari, cassowary.
• Demauru-uru, a catfish.
• Soko, nipa palm.
• Abiomabio, mangrove.
• Oso, croton or dracæna.
• Oi, coconut palm.
• Dudu-mabu, a reed.

• Korobe, a crab that lives in the nipa palm.
• Mabere-uru, a tree.
• Bud-uru, a kind of fig tree.
• Gagari-mabu, a small variety of bamboo.
• Duboro-mabu, pandanus.
• Nowai-dua, Polynesian chestnut.
• Noora, a stone.

There is a remarkably disproportionate number of plant to animal totems, which is very unusual, and even one of these, korobe, is associated with soko, the nipa palm being the main totem, while the crab that inhabits it appears to be subsidiary.

I have previously drawn attention to the large number of decorative designs on objects from the Fly River and neighbouring coast of New Guinea that are derived from plants. As we had then no information on the subject, I did not venture to offer an explanation, though I did suggest that the decorative employment of animals in Torres Straits and in the Louisiades and neighbouring islands was due to totemism. The distinctive character of the decorative art of this region can now be similarly explained.

Totemism has a restricted distribution in British New Guinea. We could find no trace of it in the Central District either among the Motu stock or among the hill-tribes that we visited. Sir William Macgregor has recently stated that it is prevalent all over the east end of the Possession, but it disappears at Mairu or Table Bay. There is no true totemism in the eastern tribe of Torres Straits. It is true that there were dog and pigeon men in Murray Islands, but the dog and pigeon dances during one of the Malu ceremonies were admitted to have been introduced by ancient culture heros from the western tribe, where I discovered totemism twelve years ago.

There do not appear now to be any ordinary totem restrictions on Murray Island, as there certainly were till very recently in Tut, Mabuiag, and other of the western islands of Torres Straits, and as certainly there are still in Kiwai.

In Kiwai a man may not kill or eat his nurumara. The children inherit the father’s nurumara, and the wife assumes that of her husband, as she has to go and live with him in the clan house. This custom accounts for the exchange of women when a man marries; thus it is usual for a man’s family to give a suitable girl in exchange for his bride, and so the balance of the sexes is approximately maintained.

Dedeamo, my interpreter, was a croton; his wife was originally a coconut, their little boy was a croton. When I asked Dedeamo what was his wife’s name he refused to tell me. One frequently finds that people in a low stage of culture decline to tell you their own names, lest you should obtain power over them, but one can generally get from them the names of other people; this good man evidently thought it was wiser to be on the safe side.

The Hon. B. A. Hely, the Resident Magistrate of the Western Division, has recently published a memorandum (Annual Report B. N. G., July, 1897, to June, 1878, C. A., 119-1898) on totemism in Kiwai and elsewhere in the neighbourhood, in which he says that when a tree is the nurumara of a clan, the members of that clan do not eat the fruit of that tree or use it for building or other purposes. For instance, the soko people roof their houses with sago leaves instead of the customary nipa palm. He adds: this custom is broken through in Kiwai villages, but it is maintained on the mainland. The duboro-mabu people make their mats of banana leaves instead of employing the leaves of the pandanus. The gagari-mabu people do not use bamboo. It is believed that the killing, eating, or using for any purpose of a nurumara would result in severe eruptions on the body.

Mr. Hely also informs us that in fighting or dancing the representation of the man’s nurumara is painted on his chest or back with clay or coloured earth, and it is a fixed law in battle that no man should attack or slay another who bore the same cognisance as himself. A stranger from hostile tribes can visit in safety villages where the clan of his nurumara is strong, and visitors from other tribes are fed and lodged by the members of the nurumara to which they severally belong.

At Iasa we bought an oval board about three feet in length that has a face carved on one side. It is called gope, and is hung up in houses to bring good luck; it is sometimes placed in the bow of a canoe for the same purpose. During the evening we spent there a similar but much smaller one (seventeen and a half inches in length) was pointed out to me by a native in the east end-room, and I managed to secure it also; but in the course of my confidential talk the following day I discovered that this was not a gope, but a madubu, or bull-roarer; they had previously spoken of it as a gope as some boys were near, and these were not permitted to know about the madubu. In my memoir on The Decorative Art of British New Guinea I had hazarded the suggestion that the gope is derived from the bull-roarer, and the evidence now appears fairly conclusive on this point.

One function of the madubu is to ensure good crops of yams, sweet potatoes, and bananas. I was not able to find out the whole ceremony, but gathered that a fence is made in the bush—one man goes first and makes a hole, and others come later with the madubus. When the natives were telling me about this I asked to be allowed to see a madubu, and one was brought. It was a thin ovoid slat of wood, very roughly made. I offered a round metal looking-glass for it, which was accepted. Two others were brought me on the same terms, one being a smaller specimen. I was particularly requested not to let women or children see them, and not to show them to the Saguane people, as “they no savvy that thing.” Of course, I carefully kept my promise to this effect.

A few years ago Chalmers sent a bull-roarer to England from the mouth of the Fly River, which was labelled “Buruma-maramu, a bull-roarer: when used, all women and children leave the village and go into the bush. The old men swing it and show it to the young men when the yams are ready for digging (May and June).” The name evidently signifies “the mother of the yams,” buruma being a variety of yam, and maramu is “mother.”

The bull-roarer is also employed in the initiation of boys into manhood. I gather that there are two initiation ceremonies; at the first the madubu is shown to the initiates in a tabooed and fenced-in portion of the bush. The second moguru ceremony takes place in the rainy season or north-west monsoon. The boys to be initiated, koiameri, are taken to the bush, and the orara is shown to them. This is a wooden image of a nude woman, which was described to me as “god belong moguru”; a smaller form of it is known as umuruburo, this is a thin flat board cut into the shape of a human being. During the ceremony the men are decorated, and wear a head-dress made of cuscus skin; or some wear on their heads long, doubled-up strips of the skin, decorated with feathers. The skin head-dresses, marari, like the images, must not be seen by women. I managed to secure both forms of headgear.

Women and uninitiated boys may not see an orara, nor an umuruburo. These, together with the madubu and marari, are carried at night-time from the house to the bush, and returned to their hidden receptacles in the end-rooms of the long houses. Between the moguru ceremony and the yam harvest the men make pandean pipes, and every young man carries and plays one.

I was informed of one fact which may throw some light on initiation ceremonies. The human effigies “look after” sago in the same way as the bull-roarers “look after” yams, sweet potatoes, and bananas. According to some notes made by Ray, the orara is shown to the initiates during the north-west monsoon, at the time when the sago is planted; but the madubu is swung and shown to the initiates when yams are planted in the south-east monsoon.

When food is scarce or of bad quality, if, for instance, a sago palm is split and found to be “no good,” the natives make moguru and put “medicine along moguru for kaikai” that is, perform moguru magic for food. Unfortunately there was not time for me to follow up this line of inquiry, but probably it will be found that the moguru ceremony is primarily a fertility ceremony, perhaps originally agricultural, and later social. The younger members of the community had to be initiated, some time or other, into the processes necessary for producing a good harvest. The time when the lad was growing into a man would suggest itself as being a suitable time for this, and for being instructed about his nurumara, and being recognised as a member of the clan.

In several parts of the world certain rites connected with agriculture were, or are, performed by nude women, and it is possible that these nude female effigies may have an analogous significance. Later I shall allude to the association of girls with the annual agricultural ceremonies in the Hood Peninsula. Probably a secondary sexual element has crept into the significance of these effigies in Kiwai. Similar effigies were said to have been employed as love charms in Murray Island, and I did not find out that there they had any agricultural significance; but this may merely have been due to the fact that a specialisation had taken place, owing to insular conditions.

It is, however, significant that the name of the Murray Island love charm was neur madub, that is “girl madub.” When I was in Erub in 1888 I obtained a neur madub (Fig. 9), which originally came from the island of Masig; it is a wooden image of a girl with scarification markings; the length is eight inches. I was informed when a young man wanted to marry a girl who would have nothing to say to him, he would go to a magician, and the latter would apply “poison medicine” to this figure and the girl would become insane. The sugob madub was a slat of wood, roughly shaped into a male figure, which was used to make tobacco (sugob) grow. In Mabuiag wooden human effigies, called madub, were kept in a small hut along with bull-roarers (bigu). The Madub used to “turn devil” (tartaian markai) at night-time, and go round the gardens and swing the bull-roarers to make the yams grow. They also danced and repeatedly sang—

In the daytime the madub turn into wood.

A wooden image, called Uvio Moguru, is used, according to Mr. Chalmers, at the initiation of the young men, and it must not be seen by women or children. He says it is also called Oraoradubu (which is usually translated as “God.”) I suppose this is the same sort of image as that which was given to me as orara, but of the male sex (dubu means “male” or “man”). “Oraoradubu makes everything grow, and they bring him presents of food when the planting season comes. They place food alongside of him, and then return and carry it away and eat it. He is always consulted before fighting, and presents are given to him, and he is appealed to for help to enable them to secure heads. If anyone is sick, food is given to Uvio, who is placed on the top of a big house (darimo), and he is addressed, ‘Oh, Uvio, finish the sickness of our dear one, and give life.’ The food is left there. Uvio is also taken and placed on the sick one when asleep, and he or she will get better. Uvio is always brought at night, because he is then a living being; during the day he is only a piece of wood. He cannot cause the dead to live.”

Until very recently these people were head-hunters; when an enemy was killed, the head was cut off with a bamboo knife and carried home on a rattan sling, which was inserted under the jawbone. The head was hung over a fire and all the hair singed off. During this process all the young girls of the village assembled and danced in a ring near—but not round the fire—singing all the while. The head was then taken away and all the flesh removed; after the skull was washed a carved peg was stuck in the skull, by means of which it was hung up on the main post of the house. This information was obtained from Mr. Chalmers, who also states that a young man could not marry if he had not a skull trophy, as no young woman would have him. Sometimes a young man would go to his friends at a distance—say to Mawatta or Tureture—and would remain there some months. On his return home he would bring with him several skulls which he had bought from, or through, his friends, but whatever his relatives might have been told in confidence, they gave out that he was a great brave, and the lady he loved would soon be his. A canoe has often been given in exchange for a skull.

In this island a number of very large, well-shaped, polished stone implements are found in the bush; the largest I have seen was in Mr. Chalmers’ house—it measured 18¾ inches in length. These stones are now placed at the head and foot, or all round the graves, and the natives do not appear to know anything about their former use. A small stone adze-head (tapi) was bought at Iasa, and when I asked who made it, I was gravely informed, “He make himself, he stop along ground all time.” The large implements are so cumbersome and heavy that it is difficult to understand how some of them could ever have been used, and I suspect the largest ones were in reality symbols of wealth or possibly of authority. As no stone occurs in situ for a distance of many miles, and none of this kind is known in the district, the implements have in all probability come down the Fly River. It is quite possible that stone implements have been out of use in this district for perhaps a century, owing to natives getting iron from wrecks and passing ships, and then bartering it to their neighbours; thus in two or three generations the knowledge of the use of stone implements would easily die out.

The natives say that Kiwai was first a small sandbank, but grew large; eventually trees and other vegetation sprang up on it. The first man came from a bird’s egg. The bird left the egg in the nest, and a maggot came out of it, which developed into a man.

Mr. Chalmers also tells the following legend concerning the origin of fire. At first it was not known how to make fire, and all the animals, and then the birds tried in turn to bring it across from the mainland. Eventually the black cockatoo succeeded, but dropped it at Iasa, as he burnt himself with it; and he bears the mark of his accident to this day in the red scar round his bill.

Fire is usually produced by the groove method, as is commonly done in Eastern New Guinea and Polynesia, but it is also got by friction of a strip of cane, as among the Koiari of the Central District. In the islands of Torres Straits it is produced by the drill method.

Although the Kiwaians cultivate the soil, they do not always live in the same spot. During the “nor’-west” most of the islanders live at Iasa, which appears to be regarded as the original home of the natives of the southern portion of the island. The temporary migrations are due to the collection and preparation of sago, the people having to go periodically to the places where the sago palm grows, and elsewhere they have gardens of yams and sweet potatoes. This fact renders it difficult for the missionaries to make much headway among the natives here.

On our return to Saguane we found that Seligmann had arrived. He had made several interesting trips in the Rigo and Mekeo districts, and had acquired a good deal of valuable information; he had fortunately escaped fever or other illness. Rivers had employed his time mainly in psychologising the Kiwaians. As Ray wanted to gain some information about the Kiwaian language, he decided to remain at Saguane for a fortnight, and to join us at Mabuiag, accompanying Mr. Chalmers when he paid his promised visit to that island.

We left Saguane shortly before midday on September 15th, had a roughish spin across the mouth of the Fly River, and early in the afternoon we glided through the narrow mangrove-bordered channel between Parama and the mainland of New Guinea. We ran on a mudbank at the western entrance, and as we had to wait till the tide rose we all went ashore at Old Mawatta. Here we found a temporary village of simple huts built on the ground. The people had come over from Parama to make gardens, and among them was the only Murray Island teacher in New Guinea. We soon purchased a decorated bamboo pipe, and by dumbshow and pidgin English I asked for a shell hoe. D’Albertis obtained some of these very primitive implements at Katau, or New Mawatta, and I bought one from the same village ten years before; but Mr. Hely told me that they had since then gone out of use. But to my joy one was brought to us, for which I gave a fish-hook; and in a very short time we had half a dozen on the same terms. Hardly anything pleased me more during this trip than to secure some specimens of this very rude and primitive agricultural implement, especially as there seemed previously no chance of obtaining it. The blade is made from part of a bailer-shell (Melo diadema), which is jammed into the perforation in the handle and wedged tight with pieces of wood.

We bought several petticoats and some bows and arrows. A living cuscus was also offered for sale in a basket, and was bought for two fish-hooks and a stick of tobacco; so now for the first time we had a pet. The cuscus is the New Guinea representative of the Australian phalangers, or “opossums,” as they are popularly called, and is a gentle nocturnal creature that feeds mainly on fruit. It has a face something like a lemur’s, and a very long prehensile tail, the terminal third of which is pink and destitute of fur. The dense fur is of a creamy yellow colour mottled with dark brown.

Formerly most of the men of Torres Straits produced scars in elaborate patterns on their shoulders, and the practice is still maintained by certain tribes on the neighbouring coast of New Guinea. I had paid some attention to this kind of form of scarification, and was always on the look-out for fresh examples. On inquiry I found that the custom had quite died out, but there was one old man left who had this mark, and he was much amused when I sketched it.

These Western Papuans have such very dark skins that ordinary tattooing would not show on them. Like the Negroes, Australians, and other very dark peoples, they produce large and often prominent scars which, being lighter in colour than the skin, are fairly conspicuous. It is evident from the appearance of many of these scars that the process of producing them must have been very painful.

Wilkin made notes of and photographed a number of the huts, which were very simple in construction, and which I at once saw were very like the former dwellings of the Western Torres Straits islanders. The islanders have all adopted the kind of house introduced by South Sea men, so the evidently very primitive character of these huts and the diversity they exhibited was of especial interest to us, as they gave us an idea of what had elsewhere passed away. The leaf petticoats also of the women of these primitive people were quite the same as were the petticoats of the Torres Straits women before they adopted the hideous calico gowns they all wear now.

We parted on the best of terms with our new friends, and a number came off in canoes and swarmed aboard the Nieue, peering into the cabin whilst we ate our dinner.

This place is called Old Mawatta, as it was the home of the original inhabitants of Katau, or Mawatta, as it is more generally called. These people were driven from their home by the hostility and constant raids made on them by more powerful tribes from Kiwai and Parama, so they established themselves some thirty miles to the west, as they found the proprietors of the district to be friendly disposed.

When I visited Mawatta ten years previously, I accompanied Mr. H. Milman, who was Acting Resident Magistrate of Torres Straits. On landing we were met by Mr. E. Beardmore, who employed natives in fishing for pearl-shell and bêche-de-mer, and by a host of natives, all of whom came up and shook hands with us. Amongst these was the chief, or Mamoose, as he is termed. The title was engraved on a crescentic brass plate, and hung on the old man’s chest like the label of a bottle of wine. This strange outward and visible sign was given to the man by Beardmore as a symbol of chieftainship. There was at the time a dispute as to the office of chief, the candidates being Billy, the son of the late chief, Gamea, a young man, who did not appear to be very popular, and Gabia, whom the majority wanted. I believe that Gabia’s chief distinction was that he was the most successful hunter of wild pigs in the neighbourhood.

We adjourned to Beardmore’s house, shaking hands en route with men, women, and children. Everybody was “decently” clothed, the women wearing long calico gowns, a disappointing sight, as the previous year when Mr. Milman was here the women wore only their characteristic small fore-and-aft leaf petticoat.

On coming out of the house all the people were marshalled. Those of the upper portion of this double village were on one side, those of the lower village on the other, while a few totally unclothed Masingara, “bushmen,” who happened to be there, formed a group by themselves. These latter were absolute savages who lived a few miles inland, whereas the natives of Mawatta have been in contact with Europeans for twenty-five years or more.

Then Mr. Milman made a speech to the assembled people. I did not write it down, but this is part of what he said: “No good you fellow have two Mamooses. Good thing you have one Mamoose, one man, Gabia; him Mamoose of two villages.” Then Mr. Milman formally presented him with a staff of office, which was a carved Japanese cane walking-stick, in the handle of which a shilling was inserted with the Queen’s head uppermost, and the Union Jack, which Billy had hitherto flown, was given to Gabia. The ejaculations and remarks of the crowd were expressive, but quite unintelligible to me.

The new chief was then told to build a court-house in the middle of the village, and a quantity of tobacco was given him to help pay for labour and materials. When it was built the staff of office was to be kept inside, and the flag was to fly on official occasions from a pole on the roof, and when there were any disputes the people would have to go to the court-house, and it would be the chief’s business to settle the quarrels, aided by the advice of the old men of the village.

The people in New Guinea usually bury their dead in very shallow graves, close to, or even underneath, the dwelling-houses. The Government puts a stop to this unhealthy arrangement, and so Gabia was told to prevent this in future, and to fix on a spot for a cemetery some distance off.

Next a social matter demanded attention, which strangely resembled a situation that is common enough at home. There was a young man named Kasawi, a fine industrious young fellow, who wanted to marry a certain young girl, and she wanted to marry him; but Kasawi was poor, and the parents of the girl tried to force her to marry a richer man.

Here also it is the custom for the man to give his own sister as a wife to the brother of the girl whom he wants to marry, but Kasawi had no sister. The old people were firm, but the girl would not do as they wished and marry an elderly Malay man who lived there, and who could afford to give good presents to her parents.

For a long time there had been considerable excitement in the village about this little love affair, as no one would give way. Mr. Milman told Gabia to decide in this matter, and there was a great palaver. Then the chief proclaimed that Kasawi might marry the girl, but when he was paid off by Mr. Beardmore, for whom he was then working, he would have to give the parents of his bride certain presents from his wages. A murmur of applause went round the crowd, who appeared to highly approve of this decision, and so the young people were made happy.

After the meeting broke up I took several photographs. The first business was to get the women to exuviate, and to appear in their native dress, for, as I explained to them, if I wanted to photograph calico I could do that at home. After a little time they retired to their houses with much laughing and giggling, and reappeared dressed solely in the national costume. Many of the women had a raised scar which extended from breast to breast—this is said to be made when a brother spears his first turtle or dugong; some had cicatrices on their upper arms and shoulders; most had scars on various parts of their bodies, but these were the result of cuts made for the purpose of removing pain by bleeding.

A native dance was got up for our benefit; owing to the shortness of time at the disposal of the dancers their costume was not so elaborate as is usually the case. On this occasion only the men danced, and of these there were about twenty or thirty. The usual dress consisted only of a pair of short pants; in the belt a tail was fastened behind, either of leaves or a flap of red or gaily coloured calico. The head was ornamented with a head-dress of white or black feathers or a band of bright-coloured calico; sometimes leaves or flowers only were inserted in the hair. Some put flowers in the large holes they make in the lobes of their ears. On their arms they wore woven cane armlets or bands, generally decorated with tassels or the gaily coloured leaves of the croton; on the left fore-arm they wore a long cane arm-band, which is used to protect the arm from the bow string when they shoot with bow and arrow, a long bunch of cassowary feathers was usually stuck in this arm-guard. Finally, there were bands of pale yellow leaves on their legs.

It is very difficult to describe the dancing, which was always accompanied with the beating of drums. Sometimes the men danced in a circle in single file, going either from right to left or the reverse, there was a pause after each turn. One figure was somewhat more complicated: the men advanced in a line up each side of the dancing-ground, the first pair who met retreated a little in the middle line, still facing the spectators; when the next two arrived, the first pair separated to allow them to pass between, and the new-comers took up their position behind the former, and so on, until the last pair passed between the gradually lengthened avenue of standing men. Several of the dances imitated actions in real life, such as planting yams or picking up pearl-shell from the bottom of the sea, or animals were represented, and a man would mimic the movements of a crab, a lizard, or a pelican.

The Pelican dance was the last; a couple of men came forward, jumped up into the air, and alighted on the tips of their toes. As the drum-beats became more rapid, so was their jumping quicker; so active were they, that we could hardly follow their movements. When they were tired other pairs came up, until all had danced. It was really a fine sight, and, of course, we duly clapped each set of dancers, and well they deserved it.

Mr. Beardmore said that his men often broke off in the middle of their work to practise a favourite step, and work might be knocked off for an afternoon in order to have a dance; sometimes one was carried on right through the night. Where missionary influence is strong enough, the native dances are discouraged or altogether stopped. I once saw an illustration of the change that has taken place in Warrior Island. Some of the younger performers were rather ashamed to dance, others were imperfectly acquainted with the steps, but the old women danced splendidly, and thoroughly enjoyed it. The natives were beginning to care less for their old customs and more for trade, as the men can earn quite a lot of money by fishing.

After the dancing we gave scrambles for tobacco, first to the children only, then to the women only. It was amusing for all of us, and there was great screeching and laughing. Then the barter commenced, and I was fortunate enough to obtain a number of interesting objects.

For a scrub-knife, that is, a knife with a very long blade that is used for cutting down the underwood when they make their gardens, I obtained a mask in the shape of a crocodile’s head made of tortoise-shell. This mask was worn during certain religious dances, and when I asked the man from whom I bought it to put it on in order that I might see how it was used, he refused, as he said if he did so he would die by a slow and painful illness, and he did not want to run the risk of this to please me, nor even for a stick of tobacco. Evidently it would be regarded as sacrilege to wear a mask of this kind on any other occasion than the sacred ceremony to which it belonged.

Below one of the large houses there were clusters of human skulls hanging like bunches of grapes or strings of onions; these were the skulls of enemies killed in battle, and they were hung up as trophies.

The possession of skulls is a sign of bravery, and so the men like to have them, and the women are very proud of their husbands if they have several. In fighting they use the bow and arrow and stone clubs. The most common kind of stone club is that which has a perforated disc of hard stone, finely polished and brought to a sharp edge, which is mounted usually on a short length of rattan, but there are others which have knobbed or star-shaped heads. Some of the skulls I obtained had holes in them that clearly showed with which kind of club the men had been killed.

After a man is killed his head is cut off with a bamboo knife; the blade is made of a split piece of bamboo, the handle being bound round with plaited string. When the knife is to be used a nick is made on the edge, close to the handle, with a small shell; then a strip is peeled off from the other end, the nick preventing the handle from splitting.