W. D. PITCAIRN, (continued 3)

We had nearly two tons of flour on hand which we were anxious to get rid of, as if kept much longer it would go bad. Mrs. F——h relieved us of one ton, and the remainder we sold to a German missionary and a small trader.

We had numerous visitors during the day, three of them from "Matupi," a large plantation the other side of Blanche Bay, owned by a German. The head station is situated in the centre of a native village and on the plantation there is a large herd of cattle. All were curious to know on what business we had come. They had an idea that we wished to trade in the neighbourhood, but such was not our intention. They wished us to come up to "Matupi" and see them, but, much as we should have enjoyed it, we refused as we were anxious to get back to New Guinea. We had only one day to spare, and for that we had arranged a picnic.

We took "Tokaiakus" on shore and introduced him to the ladies. They were much interested in him, for they had never seen a full-grown native of so small a stature. "Tokaiakus" did not altogether like the amount of attention paid him.

Several of the New Britain natives surrounded him, and with a piece of cane measured him all over. His expression of disgust was ludicrous, so to gratify him I said he must not take offence, as the natives were ignorant and knew no better. He smiled one of his beatific smiles in approbation of my sentiments.

Through Mr. P——, who can speak the language, we informed the New Britainites that we had obtained him from the country beyond the mountains, and this they implicitly believed. Mr. P—— who is a good amateur photographer, photographed him in company with his little daughter in the act of handing him a banana. The likeness was an excellent one, but strange to say the natives of New Guinea fail to grasp the meaning of a photo. "Tokaiakus" was greatly astonished at the sight of two milch cows and a horse. This was the first time he had ever seen anything of the kind. He had a wholesome dread of the cattle, and was much surprised on hearing that they were good to eat. He imagined the horse to be a big dog, as the latter animal is common to New Guinea. This was also the first time he had seen a white woman, and as they were kind to him he was favourably impressed.

Hearing that a boat was leaving early in the morning for the native markets in Blanche Bay, I expressed a desire to go in her. The boat, manned by twelve South Sea Islanders, labourers on the plantation, called for me at 4.00 a.m. In Blanche Bay, which was distant from our anchorage about five miles, three markets are held every week.

A market is also held on the plantation at Ralume. On these occasions from 100 to 200 natives congregate on the beach. They arrive at sunrise, having journeyed through the bush a distance of 12 miles. The women, who are heavily laden with huge baskets of yams, etc., do the whole of the marketing, the men simply looking on. They seat themselves in a semi-circle beneath the palm trees, removing their loads and spreading out their contents. The sight was a novel one to me. We arrived at the trysting place in good time, having to wait fully half-an-hour before the cavalcade made its appearance. Presently a low sound was heard produced by the crackling of the leaves and twigs, when through a narrow opening in the forest, a long line of women in single file was exposed to view. They numbered fully 100, each carrying a heavy load on her head. They comprised all sizes and ages, and varied in ugliness. Most of them had strong, gaunt frames; they looked for all the world like beasts of burden. Their appearance was rather repulsive. They were as nude as on the day of their birth. They strongly reminded me of a string of pack-mules wending their way through the Queensland bush. No sooner were they seated than their tongues were loosened. They were not too tired to talk, notwithstanding their long tramp. All were provided with water bottles, the water for which they obtained by digging small holes in the sand not two yards from the sea. They had also baskets containing balls of red clay, which they use for colouring their hair; none of them were tattooed. From their appearance and the absolute nakedness of both men and women I place them on a far lower scale than the natives of New Guinea. The men, who are strongly built, with rather forbidding countenances, are impregnated with laziness. They do absolutely nothing; while the women are engaged trading, the men stand some distance apart and do not converse with them. They employ their time for hours together in picking up the soft mud on the beach, rolling it in their hands into the form of a ball, then throwing it into the sea in order to watch the eddy made, and repeat the task ad infinitum.

I watched them for a time but soon wearied of it. I busied myself buying yams from the women. You have to pay one stick of trade tobacco for six yams. They prefer to receive the native money called "Tambu." It is worth two shillings per six feet. It is formed of tiny white shells with the centre cut out, and is a rare commodity.

With this money you can buy anything you like, a wife if desired. It is as much a standard coin of the realm as the sovereign is of the British Empire.

New Britain is the only savage country I have been in where the natives have a true money currency of a standard value. Some of the men wear this money in circles round their neck, and a few of them are the happy possessors of a mile of it. This money, which is called by the natives "Dewarra," is never used as an ornament but solely as a medium of exchange. The men clay their hair all colours, red, yellow, etc., it has rather a pleasing effect. They look as if they wore wigs.

Many of them curl their hair, forming it into a mop of twisted string-like plaits which hang all round their head in the shape of a fringe.

Referring to the natives of New Britain Count Pfeil remarked: "They are for the most part a tall, powerful set of people, but with all their strength they are entirely deficient in that graceful appearance which characterises so many negro peoples. Their figures are often plump, and the colour of their skin is that of a pure negro mixed with a tinge of red. Their hair is crisp, and always cleverly coated with a mixture of ochre, chalk, or clay. Their faces present a coarse, broad mouth, a flat nose, and very little expression."

The New Irelanders on the other hand are small and neatly built, their countenances are expressive and their disposition lively and cunning. The hair is dressed in a manner which makes it resemble an old Greek helmet. In New Britain and in the central part of New Ireland there is the custom common to both of dividing the inhabitants of a village, as regards marriage, into two groups, "maramara," and "pikalaba." Marriages of individuals within one of these groups would certainly be punished with death for the woman, and for the man with a heavy penalty of "dewarra." The children born in wedlock belong to the group of which the mother was a member. Both divisions regard a species of locust with special reverence. Their dead are either buried in the house or thrown into the water. In the north-west of New Ireland the practice is different. There the body of a chief is burnt upon a special wooden scaffold. The calcined bones are then collected by the heir and preserved as a memorial. Cannibalism is general throughout the country, and the inhabitants are not ashamed to speak of it. The sagas and myths of the people of New Britain deal mostly with obscene matters, although every piece of obscenity is carefully covered up, and is described in euphemisms and circumlocutions.

Having purchased a couple of tons of yams we rowed home against a very strong tide, reaching Ralume at 5 o'clock in the evening. We dined with Mrs. F——h the same night (Friday), and, as we were going away on the Monday, we arranged to hold our picnic on Saturday. We decided to go to Pigeon Island, half-way between here and Mioko. The ladies promised to find the eatables, we the vessel and drinkables. We made the vessel as comfortable as possible, and spread clean mats on wooden boxes, which had to do service as seats for our fair visitors. Our two natives were stationed at the gangway as a guard of honour, the British colours were run up, and we awaited the arrival of our distinguished guests.

At noon we received them on board. The party comprised Mrs. F——h, Miss G——e, the overseer's wife, and the three young native maids, already mentioned. They had brought with them fowls, hams, tongues, jellies, and a host of other good things, as an auctioneer would say, "too numerous to mention." Our vessel had never before carried so valuable a freight. Upon reaching Pigeon Island we were obliged to place the anchor on the reef, owing to the great depth of water beyond.

The island is well-wooded, and just the spot for a picnic. It was uninhabited, so we had it all to ourselves.

We had great difficulty in getting the dinghy over the reef, as, except at high tide, the water is shallow.

With some trouble we landed all the goods and paraphernalia, including a case of lager beer. The ladies had sensibly provided themselves with a couple of hammocks, as we did not intend to return until the next day (Sunday).

In a small clearing in the bush the dinner was set out. We had the ground for a table, and on it a tablecloth, an unknown luxury to us, and the canopy of Heaven for a roof. Here you are in the tropics. The night was warm, the mosquitoes numerous. They did not trouble us much, as we had served a long apprenticeship to their delicate attentions. It is only "new chums" who suffer from their attacks.

The moon was well matured, and lit up the darkness of the forest, casting a weird glamour o'er the scene. The beauty of the night recalled to my mind those trenchant lines of Southey:

A fire was soon burning brightly, on which a couple of pigeons we had shot were roasting. The three maids, offering a great contrast to the rest by their swarthy skins, were flitting to and fro, getting everything ready for our al fresco repast. We all laid to with a will; it was astonishing the rapid way in which the viands disappeared. For a time nothing could be heard except the tinkling of glasses and the clinking of knives and forks.

Dinner over, Samoan mats and rugs were spread on the ground beneath the shade of a group of palms, upon which we all reclined, smoking the kalumet of peace, the ladies joining us with cigarettes. The time passed rapidly until three in the morning, when the three native maids, assisted by two of the ladies, gave, in our honour, a representation of a Samoan dance. The dance was in harmony with the locality. We were delighted with the exhibition. In the early morn we had a dip in the sea, then went in quest of pigeons, but only obtained half-a-dozen. The ladies, meanwhile, were engaged collecting oysters on the rocks. After having exhausted the beauties of the island, we all returned on board and sailed for Ralume, reaching that place at five o'clock on Sunday afternoon. We accompanied our fair companions to the plantation, where we bade them an affectionate farewell, as we could not prolong our stay another day.

CHAPTER VIII.

RETURN VOYAGE.

The south-east "trades" were still blowing, and seeing no chance of their abatement, we regretfully left the shores of Ralume Bay.

In St. George's Channel we met with constant baffling winds, which greatly retarded our progress. On some days we made no more than a mile, the strong currents causing us to make considerable leeway.

We sailed close in to the shores of New Britain and back again to New Ireland, and so it continued day after day. We thought we should never lose sight of the Duke of York Islands, and had half a mind to run back to Ralume. The days were scorchingly hot, the decks not fit to stand upon. We were obliged every few minutes to throw buckets of water on them to enable us to move about, and to prevent the seams from opening. It was anything but a pleasure having to steer for four hours beneath such a sun. Down below in the little cabin it was just as bad, more stifling, if possible. How we longed for night to cool our fevered brows!

Not far from here, on the north-east coast of New Ireland, poor Charlie Hunstein met his fate. I met him on several occasions. Not long since, in 1889, he, with some others, journeyed from Finsch-hafen to New Ireland on a botanical expedition. He arrived there safely, but in a day or two a terrible earthquake took place, swallowing up the unfortunate Hunstein and his followers. What a terrible destiny, to perish in such a catastrophe without the chance of a struggle for life!

I saw the captain of one of the German New Guinea Company's steamers. He told me he was in the habit of steaming past the spot on his way from Finsch-hafen to the Bismarck Archipelago. Just after the disaster he was taking the accustomed route when, to his astonishment, the usual landmarks were nowhere to be seen. He therefore worked out his position, and discovered that there must have been some fearful agency at work to alter the configuration of the land in such a manner. The whole geography of the neighbourhood had been completely transformed. A vast expanse of land had been converted into water.

The suddenness with which such calamities occur is astonishing.

To-day everything wears its wonted appearance, but who knows what to-morrow may bring forth? what changes may take place in Nature?

To-day a man is in robust health, proud of his strength. To-morrow all this has vanished, and the living man has become an inanimate mass.

Our progress continued slow, until at last we sighted Cape St. George, the southern extremity of New Ireland. The locality has an historic interest.

Ten years ago, in the latter part of the year 1880, the ill-fated expedition organised by the notorious Marquis de Ray landed in the vicinity. The Marquis de Ray was a French nobleman living in Paris. He formed a gigantic scheme for colonizing New Ireland, intending, as he stated, to create there a New France. He caused grand plans to be executed, showing the different lots or farms for sale—smiling farms, with paddocks of grass, ready for occupation, and whole families of French farmers and peasantry sold up what property they possessed, and cheerfully paid their money deposits in Paris, thinking they were going to a land full of promise, where they would settle on their newly-acquired lands with their families and grow prosperous. Poor deluded creatures! Little did they dream of the fate in store for them. Little did they know the state of the country to which they were bound, and that they were hurrying from the frying-pan into the fire. It is astounding with what ease people are gulled by the plausible representations of an adventurous schemer.

Two large vessels, the S.S. India, and S.S. Genie, were fitted out for the expedition, each of them carrying about 300 emigrants. What a country to attempt to colonize! The Marquis had evidently picked out the most inhospitable place on the map. A wild, mountainous country, a deadly climate, and populated by dense numbers of ferocious and bloodthirsty savages! Not a white man on the island. And it was to make their living in such a land that these people had broken up their homes, converted all their possessions into money in order to buy farms there, and farming implements, such as ploughs, harrows, etc., with which to cultivate them. What did the Marquis care if they were all ruined, so long as he had the amount of their deposits safely in his pockets?

After many privations on the voyage, owing to the scarcity of provisions, they were landed in New Ireland in August. Great was their astonishment on beholding the country of their adoption, and great was their indignation against the cunning Marquis de Ray, who had so cruelly deceived them.

Many sickened and died, others were starved.

They implored to be taken away from the polluted spot, and to be landed in Australia. Some were removed to an island called Liki-Liki, where many of them died, and upon their fate becoming known, the remainder, broken in health and destitute of money, were landed at Noumea, New Caledonia.

There the storekeepers and traders generously supplied them with food, but found it impossible to get them employment. A steamer was sent by the Government to bring them on to Sydney, where they were placed in the immigration depôt until such time as they found employment.

The unhappy immigrants could not speak a word of English, but after a time they were drafted off up country, where they were employed as farm labourers.

What had become of the miscreant who had caused all this ruin and misery?

He was in France, living on the proceeds of his ill-gotten gains. Upon the true state of affairs leaking out, the Marquis de Ray was arrested, tried before the Tribunal in Paris, and sentenced to several years' imprisonment. Well for him that he escaped being hanged. This should be a warning to would-be emigrants to learn some particulars of the country in which they intend to settle, before embarking on the voyage. Let us hope that we shall never again have to record so ill-starred an expedition as the one launched by the French marquis.

Once clear of St. George's Channel, we seemed to lose the strong currents, and consequently made better way.

Returning was a very different matter from coming from New Guinea. We had now been four days at sea, and during the whole of that time had been beating about in the channel. We had still a long distance to travel, and from all appearances it would be several days before we reached our destination. It was of no use crying out against our luck. Head winds were the order of the day, so we consoled ourselves with the thought that the same winds had been favourable to us not long before. We amused ourselves by conversing with our two native companions and perfecting ourselves in their language.

In the evening, after supper, the dwarf graciously entertained us, telling us all about his people and their ways, and singing New Guinea carols.

He had a pleasant voice and kept good time.

Many of his songs were improvised on the spot, and he often introduced our names into them.

It is marvellous the power with which the natives of New Guinea compose verses.

He had a curious custom.

Having filled his bau-bau (pipe) with tobacco, and lighted it ready for use, he invariably made an incantation, something after the style of grace before meat. This was his way of offering thanks either to us or the "gods," for the plentiful supply of tobacco.

We were six days out of sight of land, and when in mid-ocean, I turned to the dwarf and asked him in which direction lay his home, the island of "Egum." Without hesitation he correctly pointed out the quarter, although, at the time, our vessel was several points out of her direct course. The bump of locality is highly developed in them.

As with certain animals, this instinct with natives is very strong. We had been absent from "Egum" three weeks, so our little friend was getting a bit home-sick and anxious to rejoin his family.

One day we were travelling at a speed of five knots an hour, when, following in our wake, we descried a huge shark. He followed us for some time in a most determined manner, hoping no doubt to receive some of the contents of our cooking pot. We did not disturb him at once, as we were interested in watching his two little satellites. He was accompanied by two inseparable companions, known as "pilot fish." They were less than a foot long, and beautifully marked by tiny, light-coloured spots. They swam just over him, always keeping in the one position. They were evidently his firm friends. I had often heard of these strange little fishes, but this was the first time I had seen them in attendance upon his "sharkship."

As I gazed, I could not help wondering what office they performed, and for what reason the shark had chosen them for his companions.

What bond could there exist between two such totally distinct species of fish? the one strong, powerful and noted for its voracity, the other for its diminutiveness, beauty of form and weakness? Maybe, the pilot fish in some mysterious way gives warning of danger to the shark. I know not. It must be of some service to him, otherwise he would not fraternize with the little creature.

In the river Nile, where crocodiles abound, it is said a tiny bird [3] takes up its abode in the mouth of the crocodile, and acts as his friend. At any rate the crocodile recognizes the friendship by never attempting to molest its winged companion.

Truly the works of Nature are wonderful and full of mystery!

Although we respected the pilot fish and had no feelings of hatred against them, the shark was sentenced to death. One of us got a Winchester rifle, and at the first shot riddled the head of the monster, his two little comrades escaping unhurt. The shark, without a struggle, soon turned belly upwards, and before we could reach him, sank beneath the waves. What became of his little friends it is impossible to say, for we saw them no more.

I wonder if they lamented the death of their late lord, or whether they sought comfort in the reflection that for every dead shark there were hundreds of living ones.

The day being very hot, I was in the act of lowering a couple of buckets over the side to get a supply of salt water to cool the decks with, when somehow or other the rope attached to them slipped out of my hand, and down went the buckets to the bottom of the ocean. This was most annoying, as we were now reduced to one bucket.

Sailing in mid-ocean, and having no coast to steer by, we "took the sun" at noon each day, in order to determine our position and keep our course or alter it accordingly.

By our calculations we should soon sight North Island, as we had now been five days out at sea.

We had no chronometer on board, so we could not be certain of our exact position.

On the evening of the eighth day out from Ralume, New Britain, we found ourselves ten miles to leeward of North Island. We rectified our course and, travelling night and day, beat our way between a perfect nest of islands, at times heaving to in order to trade with the natives who came alongside in their canoes.

Without meeting with any misadventure, we reached the anchorage at "Egum," on Wednesday evening, having been ten weary days on the voyage.

Long before we had arrived at the anchorage, the rocks near the beach were covered with the naked forms of our friends. Our cutter had already been recognized, and its name was being shouted from one native to the other.

To their delight we had returned in safety from our perilous voyage, for did we not carry two distinguished members of their race on board, namely "Tokaiakus" and "Sindiwaia"?

There was much shaking of hands, and they appeared anxious to hear of the lands we had visited and the sights that we had seen.

We landed our dwarf and his young friend in the bosom of their families, and I can safely aver they kept the natives of the island alive for many weeks with the account of their travels and adventures and the wonderful sights they had seen.

We spent two or three days here in order to refit.

We commissioned the natives to get us a turtle, promising to give them 15 sticks of trade tobacco for it.

They started off in one of their big canoes for a small island about seven miles away.

They stayed on the island all night, but were unsuccessful. Being anxious to earn the tobacco, and knowing that "no turtle no tobacco," was our motto, they remained another night, and succeeded in capturing a huge turtle weighing close on four cwt.

Their plan is to choose a clear night. They then lie in wait near the beach; the turtle leaves the sea for a moonlight walk, when the natives, armed with big sticks, rush upon it and turn it over on its back, in which position it is helpless. They have a cruel practice of burning the shell off the turtle when alive. We were much annoyed with them at this, but it was too late to expostulate, as we had not been witness to the practice. The turtle, which was a "green one," was placed on its back in the canoe and eventually brought to us minus the shell.

We felt much inclined not to buy it, but fresh meat is not to be despised.

When you have lived on tinned meats for some months, it is only natural that you should desire a change. In a turtle there is truly fish, flesh and fowl.

I don't know whether any of my readers have ever tasted a fresh turtle steak or not, but if they have not, my advice to them is do so at the first opportunity, for it is delicious, and superior even to the acknowledged rump steak.

We intended to keep the turtle alive until we reached China Straits, so as to dine off it on Christmas day. A turtle will keep alive in a boat without anything to eat for several weeks. It is only necessary to occasionally dash a bucket of salt water over its head to keep it cool.

Owing to its weight we had some difficulty in hauling it on board. We then lowered it into the hold, where we placed some wet cloths under its head.

It had to remain on its back for the next week and then its career in this world would be over.

How it did sigh to be sure! It seemed to have an inkling of its impending fate.

During the time we were awaiting the arrival of the turtle, we painted the vessel. We painted the bottom boards a chocolate-brown and the rest a dark green. All the masts and spars were scraped and oiled; the cabin painted inside and out.

Everything was put in proper trim, and when finished she would have done credit to the Thames Yacht Club.

She looked a perfect picture, with her raking topmast and the little 10-foot dinghy, painted a dark brown, towing astern. No one would have believed that she was engaged in the Bêche-de-mer fishery, but then you see we took a pride in keeping her clean and trim. We had never been accustomed, like some, to wallow in dirt.

Cleanliness is just as cheap as dirt, and much healthier.

The next day I was introduced to the native princess already mentioned in a previous chapter. She had on a lovely chaplet of wild flowers. For the rest her dress was plain and simple. As is customary with the Court ladies of these parts, she wore a low dress, even in the daytime. She was decidedly good-looking, and had courtly manners. We also saw her father. He was one of the best specimens of New Guinea natives. He had a frank, open countenance, and never condescended to pester us for tobacco. What was the result? Why, we willingly gave him some, as he offered a pleasing contrast to most of our acquaintances.

What a variety there is in the human race!

In native communities, as in European, individuals differ widely. Some are naturally of a vindictive character, cruel, sordid and selfish, their evil traits clearly defined in their countenances, whilst others are naturally open, frank, generous and unselfish, their good traits reflected in the mirror of their faces.

Having said good-bye to our two native companions and their friends, we weighed anchor and, sailing once more for China Straits, arrived off Samarai on Christmas Eve, feeling all the better for our expedition.

CHAPTER IX.

THE "TRIAL."

We landed our turtle, killed it, and then cut it up ready for our Christmas dinner on the following day. In our absence, about a dozen diggers had arrived on the island from St. Aignan and Sud-Est. Many of them were suffering from that dreadful scourge, malarial fever. We had returned in good health, but could not tell the day or hour when we, too, might be struck down by the dreaded fiend.

Surrounded as we were by sick and groaning men, our Christmas, instead of being a joyful one, was gloomy in the extreme. The air was stifling, the heat unbearable, and a sickly miasma was rising from the rank vegetation. It is not surprising, therefore, that our spirits were damped by the surroundings.

I had often suffered from the effects of malaria, so could sympathise with the victims. When laid low with it, to use a colloquial phrase, you do not care "who wins the cup." All interest in life has departed. When at its height, should any one take hold of you and throw you into the sea, you would not have the energy or the wish to utter a protest. I have seen ladies suffering from sea-sickness affected in the same way. At such a time, this mundane existence of ours has no attraction for them. They simply long for death to put an end to their misery.

This only shows how necessary it is to try to the best of your ability to keep up your spirits, for if once you give in it will not be long before you are removed to a better and healthier sphere. One of the diggers, Peter Carlson, a Swede by birth, was very bad, vomiting every half-hour.

He had recently returned from St. Aignan, an island 100 miles to windward, where he had been digging for gold.

He, together with two companions and a native boy, had arrived in a small cutter. When half-way he fell overboard, and would have been drowned had it not been for the plucky conduct of the native youth, who promptly jumped in after him, and with the aid of a piece of wood kept him afloat until the cutter came up with them. Strange to say, a few weeks later he left Samarai in the same cutter on his way back to St. Aignan, and, being a bit of a sailor, had charge of the tiller. A mountainous sea was running, and the night was dark, when suddenly a sea was shipped which carried him and the tiller overboard. That was the last seen of the doomed man. It is strange that having been saved on the outward trip he should be lost on the return journey. His death was much regretted, as he was respected and well liked by all who knew him.

It will be remembered, as stated in the sixth chapter, that on the 16th of November, the Governor (Sir Wm. Macgregor), in company with a number of diggers, went in the schooner Hygeia to Chad's Bay for the purpose of punishing the natives for the murder of Captain Ancell. He pulled down several of their houses, smashed up their canoes, destroyed their plantations, and took possession of their fishing-nets. Two months were occupied in capturing the natives, the last and principal malefactor being brought into Samarai on the 16th of January, 1889. The Government steamer Albatross, from Thursday Island, had been despatched to Milne Bay to bring down some of the "Taubadas," or leading men of the village, and one or two native witnesses, as the trial was fixed for Friday, the 18th January.

Numerous vessels were in the harbour (China Straits), the S.S. Albatross, schooners Hygeia and Lucy and Adelaide, besides other crafts of all shapes and sizes. The human race was well represented, there being all the colours of the rainbow—red, black, yellow and white.

The morning of the 18th dawned radiant with sunshine, not a cloud in the sky, and a cool, gentle breeze blowing from the west.

The island seemed to have shaken off its lethargy for once. All was bustle and activity; men arrayed in glittering uniforms were hurrying to and fro, fraught with important business. Natives clad in bright new pocket-handkerchiefs were strolling down the stately avenue of coco-palms intent on witnessing the festive scene. It had all the appearance of a gala day, the only thing wanting was a fife and drum band.

As the clock struck 10, a detachment of "Royal marines" was landed from the Albatross and Hygeia, armed to the teeth, and marched to the prison.

The governor of the gaol and the other officers of state arrived, and, upon the signal being given, the prisoners, eleven in number, were marched, with a strong guard of marines on either flank, to the court, which was held in the Government bungalow. Close upon the rear of the prisoners came the rabble, the whole forming quite a long procession.

Everyone who could spare the time was evidently determined to be present at this the first trial held in the new colony.

People of all grades were there, squatters from the west, traders, fishermen, sailors, diggers and storekeepers, all curious to know if the white man's death would be avenged.

The Court room was well arranged. One end was reserved for the judge, and opposite to him were the prisoners. On one side the Royal marines were drawn up, and opposite to them were the captains and officers of the Albatross and Hygeia; the rest of the mob having to content themselves with squatting on the floor à la native.

The learned Judge (Mr. Winter) and the "Crown Prosecutor" (Mr. Thomson [4]) took their seats.

Mr. Thomson then read the charge, which was duly interpreted to the accused. The prisoners were undefended.

Ketabu, a boy belonging to "Sariba," acted as interpreter.

Mr. E. G. Edelfelt gave evidence to the effect that on 25th October last he cleared the ketch Star of Peace, Captain Ancell, with two boys on board, one a native of the Louisiades, the other of Queensland, for Chad's Bay, for general trading purposes. The first witness called was the boy Charlie, a native of Pig Island, who was one of the boys on the ketch. He spoke English fairly well, and gave his evidence in a clear and straightforward manner. He identified most of the prisoners as being those on board when the captain was killed. He was cross-examined by his Honour.

After the captain had been killed, Charlie was taken prisoner and confined in one of the native houses on shore.

He managed, however, to escape from his gaolers, and after some hardships reached Samarai. The other boy, who was a native of Queensland, was not so fortunate.

In attempting to run away, his relentless pursuers attacked him with tomahawks and knives, inflicting terrible wounds. He had a gash in his skull several inches deep. I examined it myself. How he managed to escape death is a mystery to me. The blacks of Queensland are noted for the thickness of their skulls, but this boy beat them all. They left him for dead. He then crawled away and managed somehow to reach "Samarai," 30 miles distant. He was alive, but that was all. He could not speak for several weeks, and when he recovered, he had changed from a bright, intelligent boy into a stupid lad.

His speech returned to him, and, practically speaking, he is all right again.

When the cross-examination of Charlie had concluded, Mr. Thomson objected to Ketabu the interpreter, goodness knows why, for he was thoroughly to be relied upon, and suggested that a double interpretation by Kumatti, a native of Milne Bay, and about as big a liar as could well be found, and Mr. English, who is conversant with the "Motu" language, would be more satisfactory.

The Judge, although failing to see the necessity, granted the request, and for the remainder of the trial Messrs. English and Kumatti acted in that capacity. Other witnesses were then called, one of them from the village of Hayomah giving his evidence without fear or favour, the whole of the evidence clearly proving that the prisoners in court were guilty.

His Honour, the Judge, sentenced "Haniwana" and three others, who were the ring-leaders, to death, five to one year, and one to eighteen months' imprisonment, with hard labour.

One, against whom there was no evidence, was discharged without a stain upon his character, much to his surprise. The Judge then informed the six prisoners that he had given them light sentences owing to this being the first trial held, but that on future occasions prisoners would be dealt with with much greater severity.

The condemned men were then marched, under a strong escort, to their cells, and the crowd dispersed. The following week the four ringleaders were hanged, two of them at Samarai and the remaining two at the village where the tragedy took place. Thus ended this memorable trial and thus was the white man avenged. Had the British authorities treated previous murders in the same vigorous manner we should not now have to mourn the deaths of so many brave and loyal subjects.

A few weeks after the above trial, a report reached Samarai that the cutter S——l, in which I had recently returned, had been destroyed by the natives of Normanby Island, near Dawson Straits, and that the two on board, S——g and W——, had been murdered. I made enquiries of numerous natives in the district, and all told the same tale, so that we feared it was but too true. We petitioned the Government Agent, Mr. B. A. Hely, who, by-the-way, is a first-rate fellow, to take some active steps in the matter and find out the true state of affairs and, if necessary, to punish the natives.

He decided to charter the lugger Alice Meade, and called for volunteers. Two white men (Dick Ede and Richards) and I signified our eagerness to go, so Mr. Hely and we three laid in a stock of rifles and ammunition and set sail in the Alice Meade for the scene of the reported outrage. Dawson Straits separates the islands of Ferguson and Normanby, and is distant from Samarai about 80 miles. Nearly a week was occupied in getting there, on account of the difficulties of navigation. We made full enquiries on shore, but could learn nothing of any murder, nor could we find a trace of any wreck.

We felt convinced that the report was untrue, so returned to Samarai.

Eventually, the cutter turned up all right, and those on board were much amused at the news of their murder.

At this time, I was busy superintending the preparation of copra and pearl-shell for shipment to Queensland. The labour was done by natives, and, like many white men, they require to be watched or they will loaf and "slum" their work.

When engaged in any heavy work, such as carrying bags of copra or cases of shells, they consider it necessary to shout at the top of their voices. This is supposed to help them in their efforts, but I should say it was very exhausting. We often had as many as sixty natives working at the same job. For work of this nature, we paid them, as a rule, at the rate of three sticks of tobacco per day each man. They invariably attempt to impose on you. At the end of the day's labour many present themselves for payment who have not done a stroke of work. Unless you take some precaution, it is difficult to avoid imposition, as it is impossible to distinguish all those who have been working from those who have not. My rule is to give to each man a slip of paper with my initials written on it, and from anyone not producing it payment is withheld. Even with these precautions, unless you keep a sharp look out, you are apt to be deceived.

So the days came and went with marvellous rapidity. If busily employed, it is remarkable the way in which time flies.

One evening in March, as I was wandering along the beach, I saw in the distance a small open boat evidently making for the island. Glasses were at once brought to bear on her, for the arrival of any and every boat has a peculiar interest. The boat, or rather half a boat, presently grounded on the beach and the six occupants landed.

Four of them were black men, natives of the New Hebrides, the remaining two, whites. To my astonishment, I discovered in one of the latter an old friend of mine, a Mr. Thompson, whom I had often met in Queensland. He was a seafaring man, and at this time was acting as Government Agent on the labour schooner Myrtle. The boat they had come in was only 15 feet long, open, and with a square stern, in which they had travelled a distance of sixty miles, having had to row the whole way. They were a shipwrecked crew, and had left their vessel near Dawson Island for the purpose of obtaining assistance at Samarai. The captain of the Myrtle had remained on board, and had sent this, the only boat saved, on the above errand.

Having refreshed himself with food and offered a small sacrifice to his favourite god "Bacchus," Mr. Thompson gave us the following interesting particulars of their adventurous voyage:

The Myrtle, a labour schooner, commanded by I. Tornaros, an accomplished Greek, left Maryborough (Queensland) for the Solomon Islands on the 1st March. She had on board a Government Agent (Mr. Thompson), a mate and boatswain and a crew of six blacks. She also had six return islanders belonging to the Solomon Group.

She was a topsail schooner of 136 tons net register, heavily sparred and splendidly fitted up. Her commander had had a great many years' experience in the labour trade in the South Seas and was a first-class navigator.

March, it was be noted, is one of the three hurricane months in those regions, but it does not necessarily follow that a hurricane will occur in that month.

For a time everything went well; the weather was fairly good. We were speculating on the number of recruits we were likely to obtain, and the profits we would make by the voyage, but "L'homme propose et le Dieu dispose," and so it was exemplified on this occasion. To our surprise, the wind suddenly changed.

However, the glass did not show any sign of a coming storm. We held on our course as far as practicable, never dreaming for a moment what the future had in store for us.

The Myrtle was a strong, staunch vessel, and we had perfect confidence in the seamanship of her captain. The next day the wind veered again and the barometer had fallen considerably. Orders were at once given to shorten sail and prepare for the expected gale, but we did not realise that a terrible hurricane was so near at hand.

The wind soon increased to a gale, the barometer fell still lower; we were evidently in for a violent spell. The hatches were battened down; everything loose about the deck was made secure, the boats (four) were doubly lashed, and we stood prepared to do battle with the elements.

The captain now looked anxious, and fearing that we might be running into the jaws of a hurricane, altered the course of the vessel in order to escape from it.

Running away will not always avert the doom, in fact will often embrace it.

A wiser course for us to pursue would have been to strike the topmasts, which would have considerably reduced her top-hamper, "heave to," and quietly await the coming tempest.

Instead of which, we ran right into the centre of the most terrific hurricane it has ever been my lot to encounter. This was not my first hurricane, but it is one that I shall never forget as long as I live.

It suddenly burst upon us in all its fury. The wind shrieked and cut you like a knife. It was impossible to look to windward, the force of the wind was so great. The boats hanging in the davits were smashed to pieces, one of them being blown away bit by bit until not a vestige of it was left. The scene was indescribable. Every one believed his last hour had come. Presently the vessel gave a terrible lurch, and on the lee side the bulwarks were five feet under water.

She was beginning to settle when the captain reluctantly roared out "Cut away the masts." The boatswain quickly executed the order, the whole time being in peril of his life, the axe would often be lifted out of his hands, the wind playing with it as if it were paper. At last crash came the masts on deck, the topmast going between the legs of the old mate, and bang through the bulwarks, leaving him, wonderful to relate, unhurt. With the greatest difficulty the lashings of the masts were cut adrift and overboard they went. The boatswain, in cutting some of the rigging adrift, received a severe blow from one of the boats as it was clean lifted off the deck by the wind and carried over the bulwarks into the raging sea. He was laid up in his cabin for a fortnight. Having got rid of her heavy spars, the schooner righted herself, but what a wretched spectacle she presented! Stripped of all her beauty, robbed of her tapering spars, what was once a model craft had now become a mere hull.

In a hurricane the sea is never rough, but the surface is one seething mass of foam, with a blinding mist; and the wind shrieks with demoniacal laughter, as if mercilessly proud of its might. The blacks had secreted themselves down below, terrified out of their lives, and praying on their knees to their patron saints. They had completely given themselves up as lost, and for the matter of that, at one time, so had we all. The severity of the hurricane only lasted a few hours, after which a confused sea got up. This made things very uncomfortable, for the ship began to roll heavily, not having her masts to steady her.

The hurricane over, the grief of Captain Tornaros was heartrending to witness. He was part owner, and he loved his ship.

He had just cleared off all expenses, and had he not met with this disaster, would have made a good profit out of the trip.

We all sympathised with him. He had been 30 years at sea and had survived many storms, but in all his experience he had never seen one to equal this.

We were now several hundred leagues from the nearest land, and in our disabled state it was impossible to proceed on the voyage. We rigged up jury masts, but even then could not travel, except under a favourable wind.

What was to be done?

One of two courses was open to us, either to make for the Queensland coast or for the shores of New Guinea.

Captain Tornaros held a meeting on deck to decide the matter. He pointed out to us the dangers of the two routes, the New Guinea one, in his opinion, being the safer of the two. The danger of the Queensland route was the difficulty of navigating a disabled craft through the Great Barrier Reef.

However, there was not much to choose between the two.

After due consideration, the majority of those on board were in favour of making for New Guinea, some 400 miles distant.

The sails, such as they were, were set and we commenced our long and perilous voyage. Our stumps of masts were powerless to steady the vessel, so we slowly rolled along.

The captain had no sheet charts of New Guinea on board, therefore he would have to remain at his first anchorage and trust to Providence.

We had only half a boat left, the other half having been blown away by the hurricane. We fixed a square stern on her and canvassed her all over in order to make her water-tight. She was reduced to a length of 15 feet, so was not capable of carrying more than eight persons, whilst we numbered 20 hands all told.

One of the chief reasons for deciding upon the New Guinea route was that I (Mr. Thompson) had previously been there, and should we by good fortune ever reach that country, and be within approachable distance of Samarai, I could find my way there in our boat and procure assistance.

Anxiously the days went by. Occasionally I would go aloft to see if I could discern any signs of land. I was often disappointed; but one day, from my lofty post, I saw what I took to be the "Long Reef," which lies at no great distance to the eastward of New Guinea.

I was not deceived, and before long the heavy roar of the surf as it beat upon it was plainly audible to all on board. The issues of life and death were soon to be decided. Should we fail to steer safely through an opening in the reef, our doom was sealed. Should we strike on those rocks, frowning with a line of breakers bounding on to them in clouds of spray, we should be dashed to pieces and be buried beneath the curling foam.

The moment was an anxious one; all held their breath. We firmly believed our end was fast approaching.

The cook, who had never been to sea before, came on deck dressed in his Sunday best, ready to go ashore, and prepared to die like a gentleman.

Slightly to windward, a passage in the reef was visible. We made for it, but owing to her peculiar rig the vessel would not answer to her helm, but drifted to leeward, and in a few minutes more would be dashed to pieces amidst the cruel rocks. All hope left our breasts, there was nothing more to be done. We steeled our hearts and prepared ourselves to die like true British sailors. I cared not for myself, but I had a wife and family living in Sydney, and what would become of them after I had gone?

However, just when our doom seemed inevitable, the wind suddenly changed, enabling us to keep her up a couple of points to windward. We then managed to clear the dreaded reef, the surf washing the sides of the vessel, and we emerged safely on the other side. We were all devoutly thankful for our merciful escape from a terrible death.

Delivered as we had been from the jaws of death, our spirits rose proportionately. We now had hopes of reaching the New Guinea coast and escaping with our lives.

After avoiding numerous hidden dangers, we succeeded in reaching an anchorage off Dawson Island three days ago.

Such was the graphic account given us by Mr. Thompson.

We obtained the loan of the cutter Juanita, which vessel, it will be remembered, had been returned to the Government by the gold prospectors.

She was only seven tons register, but quite large enough for our purpose. Her gear was in very bad order, but with the valuable aid of Mr. Thompson, it was fixed up as well as possible with the poor material at our disposal. At Mr. Thompson's request, I consented to go with him in the Juanita to the assistance of the Myrtle, and, if possible, bring her into port.

We took with us a few tins of meat, some biscuits, tea, sugar, and last, but not least, a cask of water, as it was impossible to tell how long we should take on the voyage. Everything depended on the weather; but with a fair wind it was thought we should reach Dawson Island in one day. On the other hand, we might be several days on the way. We determined to keep going night and day until we reached the Myrtle. Both of us knew the locality well, and were not likely to lose our bearings.

Dawson Island is about 25 miles beyond the Engineer Group, and between it and the latter there are dozens of shoals and reefs, so that our local knowledge stood us in good stead.

When coasting along the Island of Basilaki, we met with strong north-easterly winds, which ever and anon would sweep down upon us in strong gusts, causing our little craft to dip her bows into the water. The night was dark, the gusts frequent, and as we were shipping a quantity of water on board, we had to take a couple of reefs in the mainsail. To add to our discomfort the rain came down in drifts, making us shiver again. We made very little way, but still held on, as those on the schooner would be anxiously expecting us, for Mr. Thompson's party had left them four days ago, and they had no means of ascertaining their safe arrival at Samarai.

In the middle of the second night we could just make out the outline of the Island of Anna-Goosa, and shortly after losing sight of it we heard a roar, as of heavy breakers, on the port side. The darkness of the night was such as could be felt. We well knew the meaning of the sound, and as we did not wish to hear it more distinctly, we kept to leeward for a time, until the sound had died away into a faint murmur. It was not surf beating upon a rock-bound shore, but an extra-strong "tide-rip" boiling with a force sufficient to turn us round like a top, and, had we been drawn within its vortex, might have destroyed us. The "rip" is strongest at "damoon" or flood-tide, and is caused by the action of the wind against the tide. I never did like these "rips," as they are most dangerous, and when feasible always avoided them.

We soon passed the Island Karaiwa, and had the satisfaction of seeing in the distance Dawson Island, with the schooner Myrtle lying a mile or so abreast of it. We reached her before sunset, to the great delight of those on board, as they were beginning to fear that some disaster had befallen us. A line was made fast to the Juanita and we jumped on board. I was introduced to Captain Tornaros, who at once took me into his cabin, where we discussed the situation over a bottle of old French claret and with the aid of some choice Turkish cigarettes. He recounted to me the experiences of the hurricane. The hull of the vessel was not damaged, but above the deck nothing was left. An immense hole gaped through the bulwarks, and altogether she had a woe-begone appearance. The captain was anxious to know if it was possible, in her present condition, to navigate her safely through the reefs and bring her to China Straits. We considered it was well worth a trial, and, with his consent, we determined to make the attempt the next morning, that is, should the wind be favourable. We argued that if the worst came to the worst, she could but be lost, and as she was at present, at anchor off Dawson Island, she was worth nothing to anybody. In case of an accident happening, we had the Juanita, which was capable of carrying the whole company, so why not make the attempt?

Dawson is one of three islands all lying close to one another. They are not inhabited, though on one of them there are a few native houses which have been deserted for several years. The islands are picturesque, and on one of them is a lofty hill and a few coco-nut trees. They are small in extent, and badly supplied with good water.

There is a narrow passage between the two furthest north, and it was through this opening we intended to go.

In the morning the wind was fortunately blowing from the north-east. Nothing could have been better. The captain at once gave orders to weigh anchor, the sails were hoisted, and we slowly wended our way between the islands without striking on a reef.

Meanwhile a couple of men had been put into the Juanita, with strict orders to keep close astern, in case of accidents.

The lead was kept going, as just here the place swarms with shoals and small coral-reefs. We passed over them in safety, and in the evening dropped the anchor off one of the islands, having traversed a distance of ten miles. The next day, the wind still remaining in the same quarter, we passed the Engineer Group and managed to reach Doini, 30 miles beyond. We anchored for the night, and on the following day succeeded in reaching China Straits, anchoring off Samarai in ten fathoms of water.

The cargo of the Myrtle consisted of general merchandise, and "trade," valued at £1,000. Captain Tornaros offered them at Sydney cost price, with five per cent. added, and succeeded in disposing of a large quantity. He then went to Queensland and informed the underwriters of the loss. They called for tenders for the purchase of the Myrtle as she lay at anchor in China Straits. Messrs Burns, Philps and Co., a Queensland firm of shipowners and merchants, bought her for £200, and sent one of their own steamers to tug her to Queensland.

Captain Tornaros was a heavy loser by the disaster, and evidently felt his loss keenly.

In a few days, to our surprise, the cutter S——l, supposed to have been lost, suddenly made her appearance in port. I immediately boarded her, and congratulated Messrs. S——g and W—— upon their safe arrival.

This was the third time that they had been reported as murdered.

At this time preparations were being made by K——, a trader, to form a coffee plantation on the mainland.

The land selected for the purpose was situated near a creek, the mouth of which is close to Coast Island (China Straits). The entrance to the creek is guarded by a small "bar" of sand, which is almost fordable at low water, but at high tide is navigable for small craft. The creek is a tidal one, and of no great depth. The banks are lined with mangroves, whose roots extend far into the water. On the branches are numerous oysters, known by the name of mangrove oysters. They are capital eating, and almost equal to the famous Rock oysters. The creek is about 15 yards wide, and at a little over a mile from the mouth suddenly narrows and becomes shallow. Here there is a small native village, containing seven or eight houses. The houses are built on a flat, and in time of heavy rains must be very damp.

The natives are not numerous, and are of a peaceable disposition. Their plantations are situate some distance away. Shortly after leaving the village the mangroves are lost sight of, and you enter a thick forest, lightly timbered and easily penetrated. This forest valley is well watered by numerous small creeks, and is flanked by lofty hills, covered with timber, of no great size, with a tropical under-growth, and not too difficult of access. The rain-fall here is heavy, but is quickly drained off by the above-mentioned creeks.

Following the creek for some distance, the country gradually becomes more mountainous, and continues so until you get to the other side of the coastal ranges, when you come upon the densely wooded shores of Milne Bay.

We made a thorough investigation of the neighbourhood, and, as a consequence, selected a site about a mile beyond the native township. The adjacent hills, or rather mountains, were not too steep for our purpose; moreover, there was an excellent supply of running water, which we could, without much difficulty, bring to bear on it; and, what was still more important, the site was in close proximity to the creek, by which the produce would be conveyed to the coast. No natives claimed the land in question; but, nevertheless, we had to obtain the consent of the Administrator at Port Moresby before we could commence operations.

His consent was readily given. Our first object was to obtain native labour.

I was instrumental in procuring the services of a number of natives from various parts on the mainland and the neighbouring islands.

We engaged them for one moon (one month), supplying them with the necessary tools, such as axes, half-axes, hatchets, etc.

According to our instructions, a small house was built by the natives of the village, to be used by us as a depôt for tools, provisions, etc.

Forty natives were engaged for one month, and those who wished to do so could renew their agreement for a further period.

The natives, I may state, are very fair axe-men, as it is work they are accustomed to. The first thing to be done was to form a nursery. For this purpose the slope of a hill, about an acre in extent, was cleared, nothing but a few of the larger stumps being left to rot in the ground. The natives worked well and hard, and accomplished the first part of their task in a creditable manner.

In the nursery we placed several thousand coffee plants for future transplantation. We next had ten acres cleared as a nucleus of the plantation proper.

At the time of my departure from New Guinea, the plants in the "Nursery" had a healthy appearance. In addition to these large quantities of coffee seed had been sown. The results of the experiment cannot, at present, be estimated, as three years must elapse before the first crop appears. Should the venture turn out a success, it will undoubtedly be followed by many others.

The promoter of it has had considerable experience in working the natives of New Guinea, and is looked up to by them, so that he has a considerable advantage over any newcomers.

I have received no news from that part of the world for the past six months, and therefore am not in a position to form an opinion of the progress that has been made.

CHAPTER X.

SOUTH COAST.

I had never been west of South Cape, but had often had a desire to visit Port Moresby. Finding that a vessel was leaving Samarai in a few days for that place, I decided to embrace the opportunity, as I should not like to leave New Guinea without having visited it. We passed "Kerepunu" and "Hula," two native towns built in the sea, and did not anchor until we reached Moapa, Aroma district.

This latter is the largest and most important district to the westward.

Here I was introduced to the celebrated chief "Koepina."

He can place 4,000 fighting men in the field at a few hours' notice. He is an old man, very tall and erect, with a Roman nose, austere looking, and seldom speaks, but like the renowned parrot, "is a devil to think."

Strange to say, in this district and to the west of it the men are absolutely nude, while the women wear the customary grass petticoat.

All the villages have a high palisade fence facing the sea, and extending the whole length of the beach. This acts as a break-wind.

Koepina frequently makes a raid on tribes in the adjoining districts and generally returns successful. The natives of this part speak the Motu language. I spent some time on shore and visited several of the villages.

The natives of Moapa, at the instigation of Koepina, have committed many murders, which in their opinion, is something to be proud of.

We then proceeded to Port Moresby, having taken seven days on the trip. The distance from Samarai is 350 miles. Port Moresby is the headquarters of the London Missionary Society. The site of the mission station was selected by Messrs. Lawes and Macfarlane, the pioneer missionaries of New Guinea, in the year 1873. The Rev. W. G. Lawes had for many years been a missionary in the South Seas, and therefore was well fitted for the work. A few years later the Rev. James Chalmers joined the mission, and at the close of the year 1885 the Rev. Dr. Macfarlane severed his connection with New Guinea and left for England, where he now resides. The mission has been established sixteen years, and taking into consideration the enormous difficulties of the undertaking, the result may be deemed satisfactory. Whether they have succeeded in making any real converts to Christianity is a question I prefer leaving open. Certain it is that in districts where their influence has extended, the danger from the hostile acts of the natives has been considerably lessened.

In the first years of its existence Port Moresby was very unhealthy, many of those engaged in the work of the mission falling victims to malarial fever. The health of the place has since improved, and at the present time it is one of the healthiest on the coast.

The harbour forms a large bay, at the head of which stands the Mission Station, consisting of numerous buildings: the dwelling-houses of the leading missionaries, school-houses, a large building in which the services are held, and two or three small houses. To the right of the Mission Station, on a prominent rise, is "Government House," the residence of Sir Wm. Macgregor.

On the east side of the bay, and near the entrance, are situated the various Government buildings—the Court House, the Colonial Secretary's Department, and beyond these a general store kept by Mr. Andrew Goldie, a lock-up under the charge of Messrs. Belford and Gleeson, and the dwelling-house of the Judge (Mr. Winter), in which also is the Government Printing Office, where the various official "Gazettes" are published under the superintendence of Mr. J. G. Allen, Government printer.

Below the "Mission Station" stands the native town, "Hanuabada," which contains about 400 inhabitants, and is built in the sea.

The climate of Port Moresby is very dry, and the soil poor. Nothing will grow there, not even yams, so that the natives suffer much from a scarcity of food. The women are very skilful manufacturers of pottery, tastefully ornamented and designed. At certain times of the year they take the pottery in their trading canoes far to the westward, where they exchange it for cargoes of sago.

The back country is very mountainous until the valley of the "Laroki" is reached, when a decided change for the better is noticeable.

Instead of barrenness there is fertility. Good pasturage is found, and cultivation commences. The Laroki River is about 17 miles from Port Moresby. After crossing the "Laroki" the country again becomes mountainous and rugged, and is inhabited by numerous hill tribes, both fierce and warlike.

A month previous to my arrival in Port Moresby, viz., July 1st, 1889, Sir Wm. Macgregor had returned from his successful ascent of Mount Owen Stanley.

I saw him on board the S.S. Merrie England. He had altered somewhat. He had lost two stone in weight and had a worn appearance; otherwise he was in good health.

As Sir Wm. Macgregor has penetrated further inland than any other white man, and has scaled the highest mountain in British New Guinea, the following abridged extract from his report of the journey will, no doubt, be interesting.

"I left Port Moresby on the 20th April, 1889, in my boat, manned with a native crew, accompanied by my staff, and proceeded along the coast to Manumanu. On the 22nd we entered one of the mouths of the Vanapa River, which opens into Galley Reach on its eastern side, about five miles from Manumanu. We got some seven or eight miles up the river the first day, having the tidal water for three or four miles; but beyond that point the river was swollen and muddy, and the current against us strong.

"On the 23rd we continued our course up the river for about seven miles. During the afternoon we began to approach the first low hills in the river's course, and had to ascend two rapids, the first we had met.

"On the 24th we had much difficulty in poling and dragging the boat up some rapids, the current being very strong, and the river, though falling, still deep. On this day we only accomplished four miles, in spite of our best exertions.

"On the 25th we continued our ascent, poling, pulling, or dragging the boat. We passed a number of rapids and by night found ourselves with hills on all sides of us. We passed a large rock on the right bank of the river, which seems to be quite exceptional in its formation in this part of the country. It is a grey stone, full of crystalline needles, like manganite.

"After we had pitched camp I went to examine a native-built suspension-bridge, which our hunting party had discovered up stream—a remarkable structure, occurring in such a locality and built by such a primitive people as the inland natives are in this district. At the spot where the bridge stands the river is narrowed by a rocky point that encroaches on the left bank from a steep hill immediately adjoining; advantage has been taken of this in building. The bridge, which is thus only about 70 yards long, is chiefly supported by a large banyan tree, which grows on the rock on the left bank, about 20 feet from the water's edge; it starts from this tree at an elevation of about 50 feet above the pool below, descends in midstream to about 12 or 15 feet from the water, and rises to about 20 feet on the right bank, where it is suspended to a tree not sufficiently large or strong to receive the whole of this end of the bridge, and is therefore supplemented by a post put into the ground, and this again is strengthened by a cross-bar to the live tree and fixed by stays extending backwards to trees behind. The material employed is rattan cane. Of these, fifteen are used to form supports, but as they have not all been long enough to cross the river, some of them have been joined by knotting. The floor of the bridge is formed of four of these canes, but as two appear to have been broken, the second pair have probably been laid down in effecting repairs. About two feet six inches from the floor there are two rattans on each side, and about two feet three inches above these again are three rattans on the lower, and four on the upper side. They are not plaited or twisted, but are kept in position by split cane worked from the floor to the middle and top rattans, which serves the double purpose of connecting the several strands and would probably prevent anyone from falling into the river should one stumble in crossing. A transverse section of the bridge would show it to be nearly V-shaped, but with the sides slightly rounded. The height of the V is about five feet, the width at the top about three feet six inches, and the distance of the middle strands from each other, about two feet. The top strands are kept apart by a cross-stick, the ends of which are tied to the top of each strand. Suitable platform approaches have been built at the ends, and the whole structure is both strong and graceful. Five of our party crossed it at one time, and from all appearances many more could have done so.

"On the 26th the river had become narrower as we advanced, and we had to contend with strong rapids.

"On the 27th we found the rapids very strong, therefore we decided to discontinue the journey in the boat, and selected a suitable camp on the right bank of the river. This place became our principal depôt for the expedition. By our estimate it is 40 miles from Manumanu by water, 35 miles of this being on the Vanapa itself. I sent Mr. Cameron, my private secretary, to Port Moresby to procure carriers, provisions, etc., whilst I remained in charge of the party.

"Everywhere there were traces of natives; none, however, were seen. The furthest distance inland from the camp reached by me, was between six and seven miles. Many of my party suffered from ill-health. All the hills in this district were of a slaty formation with thin veins of white quartz.

"About 2½ miles from our camp we discovered, on the 30th April, a rocky height on the first mountain we traversed (Mount Gleeson), whence a very fine view of all the mountains of the interior, right up to the summit of the Owen Stanley Range, could be seen. It was named, and is known to us as "Jack's Rock," and is strongly recommended to future travellers as an excellent observing-point, although its altitude is only about 1,000 feet.

"On the 12th May Mr. Cameron arrived with 15 men, carrying supplies. The whole of the next few days were spent in preparing the packs for the march inland, to commence next morning.

"We left camp on the 17th May. There marched out, all told, forty-two persons, four Europeans, including myself, George Belford (a Samoan half-caste, a man of excellent character and well acquainted with this country), five Polynesians and thirty-two Papuans.

"As the path had been cut for the first day's march, we covered about four miles before we camped in the afternoon at Exton Junction, where the Exton Creek enters the Vanapa River. We left Exton Junction early on the morning of the 18th, and had at the start some very steep ridges to cross. We passed several creeks in slate and quartz formation which looked, especially one, very promising for gold. The 20th was memorable as being the first time our native carriers expressed a desire to go no farther. On this occasion Belford, by the exercise of patience, by threats and expostulations, managed to bring the whole company into camp on the north side of Mount Kowald, about 500 feet from the summit.

"We required the whole of the 21st to descend the north side of Mount Kowald, at the foot of which we camped, on the right bank of the Vanapa River. A small native village was seen on a hill five or six miles from us. Mount Kowald was of the usual slaty formation.

"On it we killed three snakes, a matter worthy of mention only because we saw none farther inland. Several people suffered here from fever. Between one and two o'clock a raft was prepared, and by four o'clock we were all safely encamped on the other side of the river.

"We had only covered two and a quarter miles in two days, although those two days had been most fatiguing. On the 23rd we travelled about three miles, at first along the left bank of the Vanapa, and then up one of the spurs and crests of Mount Belford. As it was desirable to get further east before approaching the main range, it was deemed well to follow further along the crest of Mount Belford, whence it was hoped a spur might be found which might lead us to Mount Musgrave, and our march was therefore continued along the top of Mount Belford during the whole of the 24th. On the 25th we descended Mount Belford and camped in a wet, gloomy gorge at the foot of it. About three-quarters of a mile from our camp of the 25th we came next morning, at an altitude of 2,635 feet, to the Joseph River, [5] a fine mountain stream about 20 yards broad, running along the southern foot of Mount Musgrave.

"In the afternoon we camped on a spur leading us right up towards the crest of Mount Musgrave, at a height of 3,380 feet. At daylight next morning the temperature was 73°. On the 27th we continued the ascent of the ridge, following the native path. Fortunately for us the crest we had reached turned round towards the west and north and led us towards the main crest of Mount Musgrave, which was reached on the next day's march. It was determined that we should proceed eastward along the crest of Mount Musgrave until nearly opposite Mount Victoria, and then look for a ridge on the north side of Mount Musgrave, leading down in the desired direction. On our way back to camp we met numbers of natives. We soon became on friendly terms with them and managed to obtain a supply of food. They are physically stronger than the coast men. They do not tattoo, neither do they wear nose and ear ornaments. The nose is generally of the Semitic type. They always left our camp before nightfall.

"They are fond of, and will give food in exchange for, salt, beads and cutlery. Tobacco they do not prize greatly, as they grow very good tobacco themselves.

"On the 29th we were able to resume the ascent of the crest of Mount Musgrave, along which we proceeded about two miles on this day and camped at an altitude of 7,180 feet. The temperature was 70° at noon, but at night fell below 60°.

"Mount Musgrave does not differ in formation from Mount Belford; but, somewhat to our surprise, we found it to be composed of slate and quartz right to the top. Our path was crossed at several places between 6,000 and 7,000 feet, by well-marked veins of white quartz.

"Finding that there was no prospect of meeting with any spur running towards Mount Victoria (the new name given to Mount Owen Stanley), we determined to descend on the north side of Mount Musgrave. My own party now consisted of Belford, two Polynesians and six Papuans. After a succession of steep cliffs and gorges, we, by ten o'clock, reached a clearing, and after great difficulty in descending the steep rocks at the foot of Mount Musgrave, we reached the Vanapa River at about noon, at the foot of Mount Knutsford. We had considerable difficulty in crossing the Vanapa, on account of the quantity of water and the rapidity of the current. Immediately on effecting the passage we were at the foot of Mount Knutsford, the first mountain we touched connected directly with the Owen Stanley range.

"We ascended about 500 feet, and then camped. On the 2nd of June we continued our ascent. A temperature of 69° F. was marked before sunrise. We camped for the night at an altitude of 6,500 feet, where the temperature at 6 p.m. was 67°.

"Next day, June 3rd, we started at 7.30 a.m., and by noon had travelled one mile, when we were completely enveloped in fog, temperature 64° F. On the 5th of June we first came into contact, at an altitude of 9,000 feet, with an undergrowth of bamboo. At 2 p.m. on 6th of June we reached the summit of Mount Knutsford, 11,100 feet high. Here Alpine flowers and plants are met with. The quartz and slate formation extends to the top. The temperature at night and early morning was as low as 45° to 40°.

"We were now left with six days' food, and there was no appearance of any more reaching us. It was not without some anxiety that a forward march was ordered on the morning of the 8th. We accomplished fully five miles in a northerly direction along the summit of Mount Knutsford, and camped on a small creek that divides it at its northern end from Mount Griffith. At 9 a.m. next day we crossed the Vanapa for the last time. The altitude of this crossing was 10,130 feet, the temperature 59°. On crossing we began the ascent of the central ridge of the Owen Stanley Range. Early in the afternoon we reached the top of the great ridge at the point named Winter Height, which has an altitude of 11,882 feet, and about 5 p.m. we camped on the lowest part of the great central ridge, forming the lowest part of the central portion of the Owen Stanley Range, to which has been given the name of Dickson Pass. Its height is 10,884 feet, and it divides Mount Douglas from Winter Height. In our camp at Dickson Pass, the morning temperature before sunrise was 44°, and at 8 a.m. 55°. The forest here is mainly composed of cypress. We passed over the top of Mount Douglas, 11,796 feet, and had an opportunity of picking strawberries there. They were small, excellent in flavour, but not quite ripe. At 5 p.m. we pitched camp, after a march of about five or six miles, some four hours' march from the top of Mount Victoria, the name I have given to the highest crest of the great Owen Stanley Range.

"At about 11 a.m. of the 11th of June, I reached the top of the north-west peak of Mount Victoria, and I may mention that a few hundred feet from the top of the highest crest I saw the largest vein of quartz I have seen in the 'Possession,' about 15 inches thick. There are no trees on this mountain within 1,500 feet of the top, and but few bushes.

"We were camped two nights on Mount Victoria, the 11th and 12th of June, at an altitude of 12,452 feet, that is, about 670 feet from the top of the highest peaks. The temperature rose in the middle of the day to 70°. In the morning the grass was quite white with frost until the rays of the sun reached it. Icicles were brought into the camp, the largest one being over an inch in diameter, and seven or eight inches long. Mount Victoria is, during this season at least, emphatically a dry mountain. The crest of Mount Victoria runs from south-east to north-west, and may be described as composed of six different peaks, but they might be divided differently by different observers. The north-west one and the south-east one are a few feet higher than any of the others. The distance between the two is from a mile to a mile and a quarter in a straight line. I ascended to the top of all the peaks, the central ones being most difficult of access, which I climbed only after tremendous exertion. Mount Victoria is far from being the isolated block it has been customary to represent it. It is simply the eastern end of the Owen Stanley Range, which runs without a break, as one continuous whole, from the south-east end of Mount Victoria until the range meets Mount Griffith and Mount Scratchley; the length of this part of the range is about 20 to 25 miles.

"Mr. Cameron's calculations and my observations make the height of Mount Victoria 13,121 feet, an estimate that comes very near to that given on maps and charts, 13,205.

"The north coast was for several hours in the forenoon plainly distinct from the top of Mount Victoria. This mountain is some 15 to 20 miles nearer to the south than to the north coast. The country lying between it and the north coast is far less mountainous than that between it and the south coast.

"Looking from the top of Mount Victoria, only two great mountains are seen between the Owen Stanley Range and the north coast; these two are Mount Gillies and Mount Parkes. They are probably from 7,000 to 8,000 feet high. A valley, some two or three miles long, lies between Mount Parkes on the north, and the ends of Mounts Scratchley and Douglas on the south; this valley widens out and separates Mount Victoria from Mount Parkes.

"Smoke was rising from many points in this valley, which is not less than 30 miles long and will average four or five broad. It appears to carry a considerable population. There is thus north of the Owen Stanley Range, and between it and the north coast, a great extent of comparatively flat country; and there is much more population there than on the south side. It was impossible to see which way the rivers ran. Mr. Belford left a powder-flask on the top of the north-west peak of Mount Victoria, containing a paper, on which he has written that I ascended the mountain on the 11th of June, 1889, and named it Mount Victoria. The return journey from the top of Mount Victoria to the coast was accomplished in twelve days."

Sir William Macgregor is a hardy Scotchman, with a tall, gaunt frame, and possessed of great strength. He began life as a ploughman on a farm. He was mainly self-taught, and by dint of industry and perseverance rose to the position of a doctor of medicine.

He held the appointment of Government Health Officer in Fiji, and also took an active part in the administration of that colony. In August, 1888, he was appointed Administrator of British New Guinea.

A better man for the post it would be difficult to find. His energy is untiring, and by his dogged determination he manages to overcome difficulties that would appear to others insuperable.

His manners are rather uncouth, but they are suited to a wild and rugged country like New Guinea. Shortly after his arrival in that country he received the honour of knighthood.

During his residence there he has been engaged in exploring different portions of the "Possession."

In December last he ascended the Fly River for upwards of six hundred miles, and reached the boundary dividing the German and English territories.

The following is a short resumé of the expedition:—

He started on the 21st of November last in the steamer Merrie England. At a point, which he says is beyond D'Albert's farthest, in 5° 54′ S., he found the river divides into two branches of equal size. One of these, named by him the Palmer, he followed up for eight days to the frontier. The whale-boat stopped at 605 miles from the mouth of the river. The first mountains met with in the ascent are on the frontier, and were not explored.

Speaking of the climate, he says: "The heat on the whole, has not been oppressive for this latitude. The average day temperature in the shade has been about 85° Fahr., but of course it is a moist heat. The health of the men has been fair, some having suffered from fever—short, sharp attacks."

At a point (not far from Ellengowan Island) above the estuary, the river was found to be 599 yards wide, the rate of current midstream about 3¾ miles an hour, and at 50 yards from the banks about 2¾ miles; the depth was five to six fathoms. The influence of the tide was not observed above 120 miles from the mouth. As a waterway he says "the Fly river will supply excellent means of transport. After proceeding 100 miles the river is very monotonous, and continues so for the next 80 miles. The forest produces no food for man. For European settlement, such a country, as far as can be judged, is quite unsuitable; but, of course, no man can speak of the country beyond a mile or two from the river, the greatest distance to which we could penetrate."

Of the natives of the large island of Kiwai, in the delta, Sir Wm. Macgregor speaks favourably.

The island is about thirty-six miles long and two and a half broad. Sir William went round it twice, and walked across it once, visiting all the villages, and was everywhere treated with great friendliness. The total population he puts at 5,000. They produce large quantities of vegetable food, which may in future create a considerable export trade. The cultivation of the banana receives from them much attention. They have no fewer than thirty-six different varieties. They also plant and cultivate sago trees, of which they distinguish twenty-five varieties; of yams they grow twenty kinds, three of which are remarkably good; and of sweet potatoes ten, two of which are suitable for exportation. They possess no knowledge of pottery. The sole utensil is a large slipper-shell. Its name is "wedere," and the consequence is that the Kiwai native has no other name than "wedere" for all our pots and pans and different kinds of dishes.

In August news reached me of the murder of two white men by the natives of Cloudy Bay, South coast. Both men were well-known to me; one of them I had known for many years. Their names were "Jimmy McTeer" and "Frenchy."

They had been in the Louisiades digging for gold, had been fairly successful, and had arrived in Samarai early in July, where I saw a good deal of them. They had a great idea of thoroughly prospecting the mainland for gold, and intended to start from the head of Milne Bay, which is on the south-east coast, and make their way overland to Port Moresby, and determine, once and for ever, whether the country carried gold. It was a most hazardous undertaking for two men to attempt, but they were plucky young fellows, used to "roughing it" and without fear.

I entertained serious notions of accompanying them, but fortunately, as events proved, I was suffering from fever and was unable to withstand the fatigues of the journey.

"Frenchy" had about 16 ozs. of gold. I advised him to leave it behind at Samarai, in case of accidents, but he decided to take it with him, as it might come in handy when he reached Port Moresby. I suggested that it would be as well to wear a suit of armour, as in their journey they would meet with thousands of savages. They considered my suggestion a good one, so we fixed some corrugated iron on to a coco-nut tree. We then stood 30 paces off and hurled spears against it. The experiment proved a failure, the spear penetrating the iron into the tree.

They then suggested tortoise-shell, but whether they carried out the idea or not I cannot say.

They were of course armed with rifles and revolvers, but of what avail would they be against thousands of hostile natives? Nothing, however, would prevent them making the attempt, and they had good hopes of accomplishing their task.

I saw them off to Milne Bay, and wished them good-bye, with the fervent hope that they would meet with no disaster and arrive safely in Port Moresby.

Yet I hardly expected that they would escape from a cruel death. Both were young men with good constitutions, accustomed to hardships, and who would sell their lives dearly. The start was made from the village "Maivara," a number of natives watching their departure with interest.

The two, who had been mates together for some time, and had passed safely through many dangers, commenced their lonely tramp with brave hearts and in good spirits.

This was the last seen of the unfortunate travellers.

The first week of their journey, how they got on, what dangers they may have passed through, will never be known. It must ever remain a blank. One circumstance alone we know. When they had reached the country at the back of Cloudy Bay, they were surrounded by hundreds of savages and treacherously put to death. Their heads had been completely severed from their bodies, and one of the skulls, when found, was discovered smashed into pieces.

By-and-by the news reached Port Moresby. Sir Wm. Macgregor at once ordered the Merrie England to proceed to Cloudy Bay, with an armed party on board, who were instructed to find, if possible, the remains of the murdered men, and to punish the ill-doers.

A force of twelve men, well armed, landed as directed, and marched inland, where they came upon a large village, near which they found the two skulls (or rather what was left of them) of the unhappy victims. They also came upon the gold which "Frenchy" had in his possession, and which the natives had left untouched.

This discovery conclusively proved the identity of the men.

The armed party from the Merrie England shot down several of the natives, and informed the others that, unless the ringleaders were given up, they would destroy the village and its inhabitants. Two more good and true men have been added to the long list of those who have met with a tragic death in British New Guinea. Let us trust that they may be the last. The hope is no doubt a vain one, but we cannot be blamed for expressing such a wish.

CHAPTER XI.

CONCLUSION.

The coast runs as nearly as possible west-north-west and east-south-east. It has a most bold appearance, mountains of Alpine height, from 8,000 to 13,000 feet, rearing their heads, looking down in their awful majesty, backed by lofty ranges covered with dense scrub. The geological formation is sometimes basaltic, at others slate, porphyry, etc. Numbers of coral reefs jut out from the mainland, making the navigation difficult. Hundreds of islands of various extent are dotted here and there, sparkling in the sun like gems, diversifying the scene and lending colour to the landscape.

There are several magnificent rivers which carry off the great torrents of water from the mountains, notably the "Fly," named by the officers of H.M.S. Fly, when engaged in surveying the south coast in the year 1845. The "Fly" empties itself into the great "Gulf of Papua" and is navigable for six hundred miles from the coast inland. It will be the main waterway of New Guinea in the future. Then there are the "Baxter," the "San Joseph," "Aird," and "Tait," besides many others of less importance. The harbours are few and far between; the principal ones in British New Guinea are China Straits on the south-east coast, and Port Moresby and Hall Sound on the south coast.