CHAPTER V
We will now say "Tofa" to that splendid race and their pretty islands and make a start for Tonga, when the day "lost" will be reclaimed, as we recross the 180th meridian. The captain did not turn back the ship's clock here, but kept the Sydney time.
Passing between two prominent stone walls, we entered the harbor of Vavau, Tonga, another group of the South Sea Islands. This group appears on some maps as the Friendly Islands. Abel Tasman, who discovered so many countries before any one else, but allowed others to claim what he first saw, discovered the Tongan group in 1643. Over a hundred years later Captain James Cook, the explorer, made three visits to these islands, before and after he had planted the British flag on Australia and New Zealand. The Tongans have always had self-government, but the group is under the protection of the British. The native ruling power is King George Tubou II. Parliament consists of 32 elected representatives and an equal number of hereditary chiefs, all of native birth. The islands also boast a Prime Minister, a Chancellor of the Exchequer, a Chief Justice and other high officials.
King George Tubou II., at the opening of Parliament, wears a European court suit, a gold and jeweled crown, and a long mantle of crimson velvet trimmed with ermine, which is supported by two boys attired in tights, trunks, and feathered caps, while the king's soldiers line the highway along which the royal procession marches. To maintain that standard of royalty the natives are taxed $10 each a year, with maturity age at 16. The native head tax in Fiji is $5, and in Samoa $3, so the Tongan pays highly for the royal atmosphere he breathes.
The harbor of Vavau is the prettiest we have seen, but it would not be advisable to make that statement in Sydney, Australia. While the striking panorama offered by Sydney's is absent here, Nature's lavish tropical adornment offsets that feature, wrought mainly by the hand of man, in the former. For seven miles, from the imposing Heads to the small town at the other end, the shores are studded with cocoanut palms, and the bay is beautifully bedecked with small and pretty islands, thickly verdured with a moistened growth, the fronds of the cocoanut palm and leaves of the banana bush growing on these dipping their points into the still, mirror-like blue water from every side. Smaller vegetation grows upward for a time, but later yields to the seductiveness of the clear, calm, coral-reflected water, when the bright, tender tips of these become fondled, as it were, by the gentle ripples, adding more attractiveness to this unusual scene of natural beauty. These islands would remind one of a flower-pot overgrown with drooping ferns. The vessel is pointed straight, then veers, when the foliage of one of these green barriers seems almost to brush the water-line of the ship. After a turn in another direction, the course is straight again for a short distance. Another of these pretty islands is seen just ahead, when the vessel slants and seem to barely miss caressing the foliage drooping into the water. All the while the palm-studded shore maintains its most pronounced beauty. Traveling through Vavau harbor is like sailing through an enchanted botanical garden.
"Malolelei," the word a visitor first hears from a Tongan, is "Good day" in the native language. One soon asks another who knows how to pronounce the word to teach him the vernacular, for the salute is supposed to be returned. Every one says "Malolelei."
The Tongan is very friendly to the whites, which explains how the name "Friendly Islands" came to be applied to the Tongan group. Mariners, in early days, when shipwrecked on the shores of these islands, were killed, cut up, and made stew of. But nowadays they would be fed, housed and receive any and every attention that would make their misfortune easier to bear. Were a white man known to be in need, every native would feel it his duty to help relieve him. Each would bring with him food, and if the hungry man could eat all that was brought to him he might live to be as old as Methuselah without worrying about money to pay his board bill.
"The Sun is dead!" was the term used by the natives to describe a total eclipse of the sun that took place while traveling through the South Sea section of the journey. The words were spoken in a solemn tone, and it was amusing to note the difference in their voices and faces when, the eclipse being over, they shouted, "The Sun is alive again!"
Little of interest is to be seen at Vavau, as only 60 white persons live here, most of them traders. Native meat is scarce, as practically no grain or potatoes grow in tropical countries, so European food staples have to be imported to the islands of the South Seas. As an offset for these importations, bananas, copra and pineapples are exported to either Auckland or Sydney.
"Good-by to chops and juicy steaks—canned meat for you henceforth"—were the parting words an Australian received who left the ship at a Tongan port. He had decided to make his home in Tonga, and no person would feel the loss of a mutton chop more keenly than an Australian.
We again sail through Vavau's botanical harbor, and next stop at Haapai, a port on another island of the group. Traveling from South Sea ports, the deck of a ship is crowded with natives, whose bodies shine with cocoanut oil, and all have cocoanut palm leaf baskets and banana-leaf plates. Sometimes a piece of purple-colored taro is bitten off and eaten, or a dozen cocoanuts are tilted and natives drink the liquid; then a whole orange may be forced inside the mouth, when a series of prying with the fingers takes place, causing contortions of the face, in the effort to squeeze out the juice, when the caved-in orange will be withdrawn and thrown away. All are bareheaded, wearing vari-colored kilts and waists, and everybody happy and seemingly well fed. A feature of the Tongan's "luggage" is the great quantity of food each brings with him. They have good faces, but are not up to the general appearance of the Samoan.
The shore on which the little town of Haapai is built is a picture. Lined with an unbroken row of cocoanut palms, as far as one could see over the tops of these there was no other growth. Coral reefs are very pretty here, and tiny bright blue fish dart like butterflies from caves in the reefs and in turquoise-blue pools. At some places the bottom of the sea is like a garden, as growing therefrom is peculiar colored seaweed, striped and spotted shells being numerous.
Tonga homes cannot compare with those of Samoa. They are hayrick shaped, seldom have a window, and two doors generally lead to the inside. The floors are covered with cocoanut-leaf mats, and the beds are of mats of the same material. A lantern is used to light their huts at night; the oil burned in these comes from the United States. A big circular wooden bowl, with legs cut from the heart of a large tree, used to mix the native drink in, is another important utensil in the Tongan home; the bottom is of a slaty-blue color. Cocoanut-shell cups figure prominently in native utensils. Some Tongans, however, live in frame houses, roofed with iron.
A native drink, known as kava, is universally used throughout the islands of the South Pacific Ocean. The drink is made from the root of a shrub, which is sometimes pounded into small pieces with stones, but of late years graters have been used; and coffee-grinders serve the purpose still better. Gratings from the root are placed in the wooden bowl, and water is poured on these. The coarser grounds are strained from the kava by grass or fibers from the bark of certain shrubs or trees. A European would have to acquire a liking for this native drink, as at first it tastes like a mixture of soapsuds and ginger. When drunk to excess it does not affect the head, but the legs become paralyzed for a few hours; blindness also follows its abuse. Kava is served in cocoanut cups.
Tongans number but 21,000, and all belong to some religious denomination. Church collections are taken only once a year. The "basket" is never passed for contributions. A wooden bowl or a galvanized kettle is placed under the pulpit, and each goes forward and puts his contribution in the "box." A majority, 18,000 out of the 21,000, are identified with the Wesleyan Church, and this number contributes the sum of $25,000 a year. They build their own churches and give their services free. Few nails are used in these buildings, the timbers being secured by coir, or cinnet. If the wood be dark, the brown fibers of the cocoanut are dyed the color of the wood that is to be lashed. The cinnet lashing seen in the church buildings is splendidly done, and often resembles carving. The Tongans hold their churches in much reverence. At some frame houses in the towns is seen a round galvanized tank to hold rain water running from the roof. However, they consider it sacrilege to conserve the water running from the roof of a church.
A traveling acquaintance who had lived in Tonga for years was asked if white people locked their doors at night. "Yes," he replied, "the kitchen door—to keep the cats out."
Poverty is unknown here, as are jails. Each Tongan has 8¼ acres of land, and the copra from that area not only furnishes sufficient money to buy what is needed but allows a small surplus besides.
Not one murder has taken place in the group in over 20 years, and then a white man was mixed up in it. This will seem more remarkable when it is remembered that almost every native carries a big knife, with which to shuck cocoanuts and cut the stems of bananas. But two races live in Tonga—300 whites and the balance Tongans.
One hundred islands compose this group, Tongatabu, on which the capital is built, being the largest and most important. That island is 20 miles long and 12 miles wide.
Nukualofa, the capital, our next stop, is 1,100 miles from Auckland, New Zealand. Europeans there do not exceed 75 persons, but the native population is comparatively large. The King's palace and the Chapel Royal are the most conspicuous buildings in the town. A royal guard, consisting of half a dozen brown-skinned soldiers, dressed in scarlet coats, see that their king nor his property are molested. The king is a man of striking appearance, six feet four inches in height, very stout, and in the forties. The line of succession in Tonga passes through the mother, not the father. King George Tubou II.'s salary is $10,000 a year. The Tonga group is the only independent kingdom now left in the Pacific.
Grass grows everywhere in Nukualofa, including the streets. A buggy, drawn by a small, woolly horse, may pass half a dozen times a day along the main streets, or a native on horseback, with a flaring-colored shirt, may create a little temporary excitement occasionally dashing along a thoroughfare as fast as the horse's legs can carry him. Children do not appear to quarrel, roosters seemed to be imbued with the spirit of peace, and the weather is generally too hot for dogs to have a fall out; so one going to Nukualofa with distracted nerves is apt to feel stronger after a stay in the Tongan capital. To borrow from Samoa, it is another "land of delicious idleness."
It is in places of this character where one comes across British ne'er-do-wells, or "remittance men," as they are termed. These are sent from Great Britain by wealthy parents to isolated places like Tonga and Fiji, and a certain sum of money is sent them each month—enough to pay their board and a little over for spending money. They are too far away to disgrace the family, and it is cheaper to pay their expenses in far-off countries than it would be to support them at home. They are virtually prisoners in these out-of-the-way places, for they soon get in debt, and no one owing money can leave the islands. These men generally marry a native woman, drink all the whisky and soda they can get, and the wife's income from her cocoanut farm provides for the home.
Consumption is making inroads among this splendid race of natives. Some discard their native clothes and wear European apparel; they then live in a house instead of a hut, which is unnatural; but, worst of all, they cease to rub themselves with cocoanut oil, and in other ways neglect the customs of their ancestors. The native mode of living is much the better for the native. European customs do not seem to agree with colored races. It is the same with all native races—when they come in contact with the white man they generally go down hill.
Some of the prettiest trees in the world are to be seen in Nukualofa. They do not grow high, but their spread is so wide and the outlines of the limbs so regular that one never forgets them.
Flying foxes—large bats, or vampires—are sacred animals to the Tongan. Some distance from Nukualofa is a grove of large trees, and in the daytime thousands of the bats will be hanging from the limbs by their claws, heads down. At sunset they all wake up and fly over the island and make raids on fruit plantations. At sunrise they will return to the same grove and hang downward all day. These bats are as large as cats, with furry bodies, and the native believes something terrible would happen were he to kill one.
Tongans are more advanced, intellectually, than any of the South Sea races, not excepting the Maori, who is of the same race. A college in Nukualofa is well attended by natives.
Kaikai is the name of food in the South Sea Islands, as it is also in New Zealand.
Tongan women do not work like those of other South Sea Islands races. The men say it makes women ugly to work all day in the sun, and they prefer their wives to be good-looking and good-natured. Men even do the larger share of the housework.
White drill clothes are worn by all Europeans in Tonga, and every man has a tropical evening dress suit. The suit shows a wide spread of white shirt, generally starched, and high collar. Vests and trousers are white. The coat is a jacket, however, that stops a trifle below the waist line. At the back the jacket comes to a point. It is like a ship steward's jacket.
"Teddy Bears" are as universal as American oil and American sewing-machines. In any part of the world one may observe European children with "Teddies" in their hands.
Europeans living in the tropics become so enervated that such a thing as failing to keep an appointment is thought nothing of. The blood becomes thin, and the easy life they live practically unfits them for work they would be called on to do in a cooler climate. Then, again, they are looked up to in the sparsely settled white communities, and when they return to the Northland and practically become nonentities they painfully miss the pampering they received from natives. Most of these would prefer to live a sickly life in the tropics to a healthful one, contingent on hard work, in their native land. It is hard to rise above the pressure of environment.
We are about to start on Leg Five, but before doing so we wish to explain our divergence of travel in Australasia. On reaching Melbourne from Perth a day's time was all that was spent in the city at that time. We went to Tasmania, New Zealand, and then to Sydney. From New South Wales we started on the South Sea Islands trip. From Nukualofa we journeyed to Auckland, our second time in that city. Recrossing the Tasman Sea to Sydney, we journeyed to Melbourne by rail, the second time also we were in that city. Stopping there but a few hours, a start was made for Adelaide; then from Adelaide to Ballarat, and back to Melbourne, where some time was spent, from which port we sailed on our return trip to South Africa, and from which place we start Leg Five.