As explained in the Preface, I have not strictly followed a chronological order in this book, and the events narrated in this and the three following chapters took place from May 23rd to July 20th, during the whole of which time Rivers, Myers, and McDougall remained on Murray Island.

The Rev. James Chalmers had very kindly sent the Olive Branch to convey those of us who wanted to go to Port Moresby, and Ray, Seligmann, Wilkin, and myself took this opportunity to learn something about the natives of part of the south-eastern peninsula of British New Guinea. But for this timely aid it is most probable that we could not have got across the Papuan Gulf.

When the boat arrived, as is usually the case, we had to scurry round and put our outfit and apparatus together with as much expedition as possible. By the time we started we were all pretty well tired out and glad of a rest on this beautifully arranged and fitted-up boat. How I wished I could have her for the whole trip. It would have been perfect!

The Olive Branch is a fore-and-aft schooner 67 feet long—16⁸⁄₁₀ beam; gross tonnage 45·96, registered tonnage 32·4; carvel built. She was built by Lane and Brown at Whangaroa, Auckland, N.Z., in 1895. The Rev. F. W. Walker, having been to sea before he became a missionary, was sent from New Guinea to superintend her building, and having a master’s certificate he sailed her back when finished. The L.M.S. allowed £600 for her—far too little, it should have been £900—and she cost £1900! Walker with not unnatural enthusiasm tried to improve the boat as she was being built, and feeling his honour at stake he manfully determined to pay the balance himself, so he temporarily retired from the society and started trading in New Guinea. I hear he is doing very well, as he deserves to, but I am afraid that fair trading with natives on Christian principles will not conduce to a rapid fortune.

We had the usual medley of races on board—European (skipper and passengers); Malay (ship’s cook, Ali, from Penang, our cook, Ontong, from Batavia); Polynesian (first mate from Aitutaki, Hervey Group; a teacher from Rimatara, near Tahiti; a Samoan teacher, his wife and child); Melanesian (one boy from Keapara and three from Delena, British New Guinea); Negroid (a negro from St Vincent, probably not full-blooded).

We made a quick passage through Flinders’ Entrance, found rollers in the Gulf water, and as the wind was fresh most of us were hors-de-combat, and turned in very early, but had a broken night owing to a great deal of motion, noise, and rain.

Tuesday, May 24th.—A fair sea on and plenty of movement, dull sky and frequent squalls, and a heavy rain storm for an hour or so at noon. So far as the uninteresting sea and dull grey weather was concerned we might have been in English waters, but not as regards temperature—it was a pleasant temperature, neither hot nor cold, and the wind was warm. Not a very enjoyable day. Weather remained the same all day; too thick to see the New Guinea coast. Noon position: lat. 8° 57′, long. 145° 42′ E.; distance, 122 miles.

Wednesday, May 25th.—Weather looked squally in morning, and had slight puffs of wind with rain; but soon all wind dropped, and there we were at 11 a.m. lolling about the Papuan Gulf within sight of distant land, when the clouds permitted it to be seen, and the steersman vainly whistling for a wind. This kept on all day. We had a busy afternoon measuring anthropometrically some of the crew, and Seligmann tested the tactile sensibility of two of them. Noon position: lat. 8° 41′ N., long. 146° 5′ E.; distance, 27 miles.

Thursday.—Calm night; sails flapping in the wind and gear rattling. A quiet, soft morning; the continuous rain prevented bearings being taken. The captain thought we were about 19 miles off Yule Island. Cleared up later in the morning and had brilliant sunshine; sea perfectly calm, but with a long, steady roll. About one o’clock a little wind sprung up, and now, contrary to our fears, we began to hope we might anchor at Delena that night. Noon position: lat. 8° 53′ N., long. 146° 18′ 30″ E.; distance, 17 miles. The wind freshened slightly, which enabled us to get to our anchorage in Hall Sound, between Delena to the east and Yule Island to the west, about 4.45 in the afternoon. We had tea as soon as we could, and then landed; but the sun was setting, and it would rapidly be dark.

Delena is a small village of about twenty houses, situated on the sand beach at the end of a range of low wooded hills. On the high ground behind the beach are other houses, and here also is the L.M.S. Mission Station.

The Rev. H. M. Dauncey has a large house, which is very sensibly arranged, and must have been comparatively cheap to build. It consists of a large platform on posts covered by a corrugated iron roof. In the centre he has built large rooms with bamboo walls that do not go up to the roof. Thus there is ventilation above as well as through the walls, and instead of building the rooms in a solid block, one large room is detached so as to leave a broad gangway for a draught of air. The verandah is covered with creepers, and round the house are planted a large number of brilliant variegated crotons, hybiscus, and other shrubs, and the air was redolent with the sweet perfume of a grinadilla that was trained over an archway which sheltered one of the paths. The house is set in a large garden or plantation of bananas, coconuts, limes, and other fruit trees, and a short distance off are the teachers’ and students’ houses. Mr. Dauncey’s energy and enthusiasm, backed by those of Matapo, have made themselves felt, and doubtless must have effect on the natives, though of this I was naturally unable to judge. Matapo is the native of Rimatara whom we had on board with us on the Olive Branch. He had been paying a visit to friends in Torres Straits, and was now returning home.

My first impression of the Eastern Papuans was that they are markedly different in several characters from the Torres Straits islanders, who are Western Papuans. They are shorter, lighter, and redder in colour, have less rugged features, and a somewhat more refined appearance. They are all tattooed. The younger men appear to tattoo their faces only, though some of the old men have patterns on the arms and legs and chest. The women are tattooed more or less all over. True tattooing, which consists in pricking pigment into the skin, does not show on very dark skins; indeed, the skin of most of the Eastern Papuans is often so dark that the tattooing does not readily show on it. Like the African negroes and the Australians, some of the Western Papuans ornament their body by means of severe scars. This practice of scarification has now ceased in Torres Straits and is diminishing on the mainland of New Guinea, where the influence of the white man extends; but we have seen many men amongst the Torres Straits islanders and Western Papuans who tattoo themselves slightly, in imitation of Polynesian or Eastern Papuans. It appeared to me that these people are less excitable than the Torres Straits islanders. We did not stay long on shore that evening, as we could do nothing in the dark.

We went ashore about eight o’clock the following morning and stayed till about four in the afternoon. We measured half a dozen men, and made records of their hair, eyes, skin, ears, etc. Seligmann tested the tactile sensibility of one or two natives, and got some interesting results. Ray gave a tune on the phonograph, and got some young people to sing a hymn on a blank cylinder. Wilkin took some photographs.

We saw the whole process of making pots except the baking in a wood fire. None of us had seen the manufacture of handmade pottery before, and we were consequently much interested in it. Delena and Yule Island are the most northerly, or westerly, points at which pottery is made along this coast of British New Guinea. The pots are made of three shapes. The whole is done with clay, sand, water, a board on which the clay is mixed, a wooden beater, a stone, and a shell; no wheel is employed, but the pot is supported in an old broken pot and can thus be easily turned round. The women are very dexterous in using their hands and fingers, and they can make several pots in a day. The people have not much to trade with, and we did not see any decorated bamboo tobacco pipes.

What interested me most was a child’s toy throwing-spear. It consists of a short, thin reed, in one end of which is inserted the mid-rib of a palm leaflet, to represent the blade or point; but the real interest consists in the fact that it is thrown by means of a short piece of string, one end of which is knotted and then passed twice round its shaft; the other end is passed twice round the index finger. The reed is held between the thumb and other fingers, with the index finger extended; when the spear is cast the string remains in the hand.

The use of a cord to increase the distance to which a throwing-spear or javelin can be hurled is an ancient, though not a common contrivance. The Greek and Roman soldiers employed a strap (ἀγκύλη or amentum), which was secured to about the middle of a javelin to aid them in giving it force or aim. In this case the strap left the hand of the thrower.

The only examples of this device I can find among recent peoples are in the Southern New Hebrides, New Caledonia, and Loyalty Islands. Captain Cook was the first to describe the practice, but it has been several times recorded since the great navigator’s day. The short cord employed by these Melanesians is knotted at one end and has a loop at the other for the insertion of the tip of the forefinger of the right hand. The Maori, however, used a long-handled whip, kotaha, for hurling javelins.

Rigid wooden spear-throwers, or, as they are generally termed, throwing-sticks, are more widely distributed. They occur all over Australia, and the Cape York variety was borrowed by the Western Islanders of Torres Straits. Strangely enough, in German New Guinea a distinct type of throwing-stick occurs sporadically. Another form of throwing-stick occurs in America among the Eskimo and among the Conibos and Purus of the Upper Amazon, and formerly among the ancient Mexicans.

This child’s toy may yet prove to be a link in the chain of evidence of race migration.

These people also make very complicated string puzzles (cat’s cradle); indeed, this amusement is widely spread in this part of the world.

There was great excitement in the afternoon over the catching of five goats, one of whom was a full-grown “billy.” These belonged to Mr. Dauncey, and we had to take them to another mission station. What with the goats, ourselves, other passengers, our gear, bananas, and other food, we had a pretty good boatload on our return to the schooner.

Soon after our arrival at Thursday Island we met Mr. Dauncey, who was there on his way home on furlough; the only other time I had seen him was also at Thursday Island, ten years previously, when he had just arrived to commence his career as a missionary. Mr. Dauncey kindly said that when I went to Delena I could take some “curios” that were lying on his verandah. I did not forget his offer, and brought away with me three shields, a number of small masks from the Papuan Gulf, and, best of all, a sorcerer’s kit, which consisted of a strongly-made round cane basket, about a foot in diameter and ten inches in height, which was lined with the cloth-like spathe of the coconut-palm leaf. It contained a cooking-pot, uro or keke, that from its appearance evidently came from Boera, inside which were the following objects:—

A small, pointed coconut receptacle (biobio), three inches in length, decorated with strings of grey seeds; the medicine inside was kept in place by a plug of bark cloth. When wishing to harm a person the coconut is pointed to the place where the patient sits. The patient may ultimately recover. Attached to this were the lower jaw of a baby crocodile (auki), this makes dogs kill pigs, and a small bamboo tube (baubau), containing a black powder which is used for decoration in a dance.

A spine of a sting-ray (daiadai), which is employed thus: When a man is enamoured of a girl from another village, who will have nothing to say to him, he takes the spine of the sting-ray and he sticks it in the ground where the girl has been, then he puts it in the sun for a day or two, and finally makes it very hot over a fire. In a couple of days the girl dies. Before dying she tells her father about the young man, and the bereaved parents instruct a sorcery man to kill the young man by magic.

A smooth ovoid stone, three inches in length, closely surrounded with netted string, has had pink earth rubbed over it, and was enveloped in a piece of black cloth which was part of a man’s belt. This is taken into the garden at planting season and held over a yam, then water is poured over the stone so that it falls on to the yam. The stone is left on the ground in the garden till all the yams are planted; the stone is then returned to its bag.

Several pieces of resin were tied together with netted string in three little parcels, one having leaves wrapped round the resin. They were inside a small netted bag (keape). The bag with its contents is put on the top of a net that is to be used for catching a turtle in the night-time. This must be done by one man only, and no one else must see him do it. The charm must be put away before going out to fish the next morning. Another version was that the resin (tomena) is put in a fire so that the smoke of the ignited resin rises up into the net which is used to catch turtle or dugong. In either case it is a turtle or dugong fishing charm.

In the pot was also a broken skull of a small turtle; three cassowary toe-nails, one of which was hollow, being used as a protecting sheath for a spear when hunting pigs or kangaroos, so that the point of the spear should not break when thrown on the ground; various fragments of a friable, whitish, shelly earth (ăniăninadina), which comes from Toaripi, Lealea, and other places, and is eaten in the bush when no food is available.

Besides these there were also rounded pebbles of various sizes (nadi); two elongated ones, much larger than the others, were said to be yam stones, and the smaller ones may also be similar charms; some of the latter were in a bamboo tube (baubau), which had a protecting handle. In an old calico bag were nodules of iron pyrites and various stones, rounded pebbles, friable gritty rock, and a small piece of white coral (ladi), etc.

I should add that on subsequent occasions I showed one or two natives the contents of the sorcerer’s basket, and the information I have given as to the nature of some of the objects was gathered from them. If we could get several sorcerers to tell the truth about their own practices much remarkable information would be obtained.

The Rev. James Chalmers gives a vivid sketch of the manner in which he obtained the death-dealing crystal and other magic stones of a renowned “Maiva” (Waima) sorcerer in his Pioneering in New Guinea.

We returned tired, hungry, and very happy.

Whilst we were at tea the Government schooner Lokoko came into Hall Sound and anchored close to Yule Island. As soon as we could, the skipper, Ray, and I paid her a visit, but found that Dr. Blainey and Mr. Monkton had gone ashore to visit the Sacred Heart Mission. So we went also. Archbishop Navarre was very courteous and friendly. He quite remembered about me, as his former colleague, Bishop Verjus, an old friend of mine, had often spoken to him of me. We learnt no European news, as Dr. Blainey had heard nothing later than we had, which was the attack on Manila by the Americans, and I think the Spaniards had capitulated. We heard of Sir William Macgregor’s movements; he was then conducting the Governor of Queensland, Lord Lamington, and his party about the Possession.

The captain tried to sail next morning, but there was no wind. About midday he managed to crawl away, and we got a little wind outside; there was also a good roll, the remains of the late heavy wind. We sailed all night close hauled, but found next morning we had not at all advanced our course.

The next day a heavy sea was still running, and there was a fair amount of wind, but we only managed to cross the mouth of Redscar Bay, and get to anchor, just before sunset, in the lee of Redscar Head. The Vanapa and Laroki, two of the longest rivers in the central district of British New Guinea, flow into this deep bay, and the fertile alluvial plains of this region are dominated by the powerful Kabadi tribe.

We anchored the following afternoon off Borepada, in the lee of Haidana Island, and a long way from the shore. Here we landed a Samoan teacher, his wife, and their small boy, who had been paying a visit to her brother, “Jimmy Samoa,” in Nagir. They were bound for Manumanu River, but they could not be landed in Redscar Bay owing to the swell. Just after we anchored, Seligmann shot a frigate bird. I particularly wanted one, as this is the sacred bird of the West Pacific, and enters so largely into the decorative art of the archipelagoes off the south-east end of New Guinea. The bird has a lordly flight, and it is a fine sight to see several of them sailing high in the air; it seemed cruel, however, to kill the poor thing. Unfortunately, the rats on board the schooner destroyed the skin.

As we could not land the previous night the captain gave us a chance next morning (May 31st); so we were called before 5 a.m., had cocoa and biscuits, and started before sunrise with the rest of the teacher’s goods. The houses are of the ordinary Motu type, only slightly different from the Delena houses, and at high tide (as it was when we landed) some of the houses stand in the water with a long narrow gangway stretching to the beach above high water. We did a small trade in decorated lime gourds, bamboo pipes, and other objects. I found that the people made very little themselves, some of the specimens we bought came from Toaripi, over a hundred miles to the north-west, and others from Bulaa, seventy miles to the south-east! They apparently do not decorate the articles they make, and yet the women are very richly tattooed with various designs, but the men are only slightly so, and that chiefly a few broken lines on the face. I made a careful copy of the tattooing on the body and arm of one young woman; she posed excellently, and evidently felt very proud of her patterns being recorded, especially as a noisy crowd collected around us, and when I sketched a tattoo mark, the onlookers told her or touched the actual patterns as I drew them.

We also bought some flutes with two holes only, and one or two rounded stones which are used as charms to make the yams grow. We had great value for the hour and a quarter we were on shore; at leaving we saw several natives hacking away at a live turtle which was lying on its back, and happy children were collecting the blood in vessels. It was not an edifying spectacle. We parted in a very friendly spirit with the natives, and as the boat was leaving the shore I gave a scramble for bits of tobacco.

We entered the harbour of Port Moresby at one o’clock, and soon came to an anchorage off the Government offices. The Mission Station and village must be nearly two miles from the incipient township, and the Governor’s Residency is between the two, but nearer the Mission premises.

As soon as the Hon. D. Ballantine, the Treasurer and Collector of Customs, had boarded us, we landed in his boat and called on the Hon. A. Musgrave, the Government Secretary. He received us very kindly, and promised to do all he could to forward my plans. He informed me that they were getting up a grand dance at Hula (Bulaa), and that as the harvest had been exceptionally good there was plenty of food, and the people had spare time. He expected inland tribes would come down, and that there would be a great crowd, perhaps a couple of thousand natives; but this proved to be one of those reports that arise one knows not where, and which disappear on inquiry like a morning mist. I gathered that the dance was got up for Sir William Macgregor and Lord Lamington. Naturally I was very keen to go, but as the Olive Branch would be delayed by having to be run up on the slip to be scraped and repaired, she would not be able to get down in time, so Mr. Musgrave very kindly offered me a Government schooner, which he immediately got ready, so that we might start as soon as possible.

I called on Mr. Gors, the manager of Burns, Philp, and Co., the great Queensland and New Guinea trading firm. He is a very pleasant fellow and a good man of business, who did what he could to help us. I noticed hanging up behind a door of the store a number of strings of worked shell, such as the natives wear round their necks all along the coast. As I was asking about them, two or three all but nude Papuan boys came into the store and bought a couple for one shilling each. It seemed so strange to see natives buying a native ornament, which is used as shell-money, in a large store with coin of the realm.

Had a busy time the following day arranging about our trip to the east and buying “trade” and “tucker.” Everyone was very kind and helpful. Mr. Musgrave gave us dinner in the hotel, then we had afternoon tea in his house. I dined there in the evening, and later went on to Ballantine, who had an informal lantern show of local slides which were very interesting. A crew had been got together for us, so that we might start at daybreak the next day.

We got off early in the morning of June 2nd in the Peuleule, and arrived about four o’clock off Gaile, or Kaile (but the real name is Tava Tava), a marine pile village which is built perhaps a quarter of a mile from the shore on the fringing reef; but some houses are now built on the shore. Sir William Macgregor, the then Lieutenant-Governor, encouraged this innovation; but Mr. A. C. English, the very efficient Government agent for this district, states it is regrettable from a sanitary point of view, as the natives are far cleaner and healthier in their villages built over the salt water.

We were met by the teacher, a Port Moresby native, who accompanied us all the time and acted as interpreter. We photographed the village from the shore, with a group of natives on the sand beach. All the women were richly and thoroughly tattooed. We got off in a canoe paddled by girls, and clambered up the horizontal poles that serve as a ladder to one of the houses, and wandered from one end of the village to the other along the platforms. The planks of which the platforms are made are irregularly placed, often with spaces between them; and one has to cross from the platform of one house to another on poles which may be fastened or may merely be lying loose. The natives run along these easily with their bare feet, but we, with our boots on, found it a very different matter.

Crouching behind and beside the entrance of one house was a widow in mourning for her recently deceased husband; her head was shaved, her body smeared all over with charcoal, her chest was covered with netting, she wore a long petticoat, elongated tassels of grey seeds (Coix lachrymæ) hung from her ears, and on each arm she had four widely separated armlets of coix seeds, and round her neck were numerous necklaces and ornaments. She would not come on to the platform to be photographed, the reason assigned being that she would get a bad name for disrespect to the memory of her husband if she showed herself in public. She had no objection to being photographed in the house; but that was impossible as it was so dark.

Although all the people fish, one man had a great display of nets, and he was pointed out as the chief fisherman of the village; probably he was more expert than the others, and so had become more wealthy. We bought a few ethnographical specimens, and we were surprised to find that they wanted money for everything, and prices as a rule ran very high. We stayed so late that the sun had set before we got away.

We started fairly early on June 3rd, but as the wind was against us we had to make any number of tacks and our progress was exceedingly slow, and it was very wet sailing. The weather was, however, favourable enough, and we had a fine panorama of the coast and of the tier upon tier of hilly land behind that became lost to view in the misty distance. The hills appeared to be but thinly covered with trees, and presented a great contrast to the dense umbrageous foliage that overwhelms the mountainous Philippine Islands.

Taking the south-east peninsula of New Guinea as a whole, it is composed of a central range of lofty mountains, consisting largely of gneiss, slates, and crystalline schists of uncertain age, which, so far as is known, have an east-north-east strike. The less lofty lateral mountains, which form occasional massives, are composed of acidic and basic volcanic rocks, of which the former appear to predominate. To the east these mountains are bounded by contorted Tertiary beds that form a tumultuous hilly country, which extends to the coast-line. Most of the mountains and hills appear to be built up of contorted or much-tilted beds, and may be described as well-dissected folded mountain ranges.

But few extensive alluvial plains occur in the peninsula. The lower reaches of the Laroki and Vanapa rivers and the basin of the Aroa constitute a very fertile plain, inhabited by the well-to-do, independent Kabadi tribe, who exchange all kinds of native food for the earthenware vessels of the Motu potters. The largest of these plains is found in the Mekeo district, and here the natives seem to have advanced further from savagery in several respects than elsewhere on the mainland.

We arrived at Siruwai, or Kăpăkăpă as it is generally called, about 12.30; after lunch we went ashore in a whale boat brought to us by the L.M.S. teacher, a native of Niue, an island in the South Pacific.

Kăpăkăpă is essentially a marine village, but there are a few houses on the land, also several elaborately carved wooden platforms, or dubus. The dubus which are found in this region of New Guinea are taboo platforms, or stagings, on which the men sit and feast; here also they discuss private and public affairs. A dubu is, in fact, a sort of skeletonised club-house, which may not be approached by the women. (Plate XVII., A, p. 232.)

Close by, jutting above the level of the water, are a number of charred stumps which mark the site of the village of East Kăpăkăpă, which was destroyed by a band of Bulaa men. All, or nearly all, the inhabitants were killed, and the village destroyed by fire, a repetition of the history of the Swiss pile dwellings. Wilkin photographed the burnt piles, and also some houses in process of manufacture. He and Seligmann stayed here while Ray and I walked a mile and a quarter to Vatorata (Vatororuata) to see Dr. Lawes, the revered L.M.S. missionary and well-known Papuan scholar.

There is a fair road along an alluvial valley-plain, through which a small river runs. Most of the plain is covered with a tall, coarse, broad-leafed grass, with clumps of trees. Dr. Lawes’ house is situated on the spur of a moderately high steep hill. The Mission premises consist of 150 acres, all fenced in. The steep road immediately up to the house is lined by twenty students’ houses, each of which is named by or after the donor. These comfortable little houses cost but £5 apiece to build. Beyond these is a well-built handsome church and schoolhouse. The Mission residency is a large, comfortable, airy house, commanding a lovely view of mountains and lowland scenery.

Dr. Lawes, like most of the other white missionaries of the London Missionary Society, no longer does what may be termed ordinary evangelistic work in the midst of a village, this is performed by South Sea teachers, but he is practically solely occupied with the more important work of translating the Bible into Motu and in training native teachers, who here are all married men. The students, who come from various districts, can all read fluently, and are proficient in arithmetic up to fractions. They are well acquainted with the geography of Australasia, and are familiar with the position of Her Majesty the Queen with regard to the world and British New Guinea. Naturally they have mastered the main facts and principles of the Gospels. Their writing, as is generally the case in these native classes, is very good.

Mrs. Lawes superintends the domestic education of the teachers’ wives. Each wife cuts out and sews the clothes of the family, plaits mats, does the washing, makes the starch and dresses her husband’s shirts, prepares the food, and keeps the house clean and orderly. The husbands also work in their food-gardens, build the houses, and make the furniture. The advanced students conduct classes of younger ones.

I have gleaned most of the foregoing description from Sir William Macgregor’s final report, and I cannot do better than quote his summing up. “As far as an experience of ten years can enable one to judge, the system of education and training initiated and now in force at Vatorata is so suitable to the circumstances of the country and to the character and condition of the natives, that it would be difficult to suggest any change that would be an improvement” (p. 50). No one has had a better opportunity of judging the value of the work done by Dr. and Mrs. Lawes than has the late Lieutenant-Governor of British New Guinea, and it would be unseemly for me to do more than add my testimony to the wisdom of their methods of training teachers.

In dealing with primitive peoples the problem is constantly arising how far it is wise that their mode of living should be altered seriously. I imagine that nobody objects to the humanising of natives, a term which I prefer to the somewhat ambiguous one of civilising. At the same time I cannot refrain from pointing out that, according to some whose opinion carries weight, the less primitive peoples are Europeanised the better it is for them.

Dr. and Mrs. Lawes gave us a very cordial reception—the former is a veritable patriarch, the latter is very bright, and from all we have heard and seen has proved herself to be a splendid missionary’s wife. We had a most welcome shower-bath after the nearly as welcome afternoon tea. Dr. Lawes sent a note to Mr. A. C. English, the Government Agent for the Rigo District, who lives a mile and a half inland, to come across to see us. A pencilled reply came that he was lying on the floor shivering with a temperature of 104°, and all his blankets atop of him. Scarcely had we finished dinner than in he walked, having adopted his usual plan of taking exercise to shake off an attack of fever. We had a very pleasant chat about British New Guinea, and I made some rubbings of two pipes from an inland tribe, the type of decoration of which was new to me.

We walked back to the village of Kăpăkăpă, and happened on a dance. In most of the figures of the dance two parallel rows of dancers faced one another; the majority of the lads had drums, which they held in their left hand and beat with the extended fingers of the right. A number of lassies joined in the dance, and this was the first time in New Guinea I had seen both sexes dancing together. There was usually a girl between each lad, the girl on the boy’s right hand put her left arm round his right arm.