In the present instance, my man was not destined to have any luck, for the network of roots round the tree formed such a wide-spreading dome that he could not make his way over to the crown to secure a specimen of the orchid, and the attempt had accordingly to be abandoned.
We pressed on along the rough track, which was everywhere beset with precipices and ravines that compelled us to take the greatest care. The road was fairly practicable, however, for transit, and there were no very serious obstructions at this stage of the journey. My people were in good spirits, and we plodded on as gaily as might be, occasionally stopping and giving the men a smoke. Despite the toils of the road, these halts in the forest were perfectly delightful, for we had in the improvement of the air a foretaste of the pleasant freshness that was to make life in the mountains of New Guinea so tolerable and even attractive.
After five hours’ march we arrived at Ekeikei, rather tired and ready for slumber, but here, alas! there was no rest for us. The native carriers had to lodge, some in our hut, some under it, and their method of spending the night was not favourable to repose. Their idea is to sleep for half-an-hour, and then light their pipes and spin yarns, which, to judge by their uproarious laughter, must have been extremely diverting. After the story-telling, they obliged us with songs, and the music wooed them again to a brief period of slumber. It did not woo us, for the coast natives have no ear, and their music is very unlike the soft and flowing song of the mountaineers. This performance went on until daybreak, when we rose. In order to make a satisfactory day’s journey it was necessary to start at 5 A.M. We had to prepare our own breakfast and give the natives theirs, and then we set out for Madui.
Again, the path wound past high precipices and deep ravines until we came to our first resting-place, Bamboo Camp, so called from a clump of bamboo that formed a natural shelter. Here the forest trees were so high and thick that scarcely any sun or light could penetrate. It was gloomy in the extreme, and very depressing, the silence broken only by the drip, drip of the rain, and the only sound of life was the “wauk,” “wauk” of the bird of paradise.
For two hours the track skirted the Deeanay precipice, and our way led under enormous overhanging boulders which would reach out some distance overhead. These were the more impressive in that they seemed to have no hold, and the imagination made teasing suggestions as to what would happen if one of them were to topple over. From the crevices little springs issued, and in these damp nooks there was a luxuriant growth of lichens and begonias in flower. While accomplishing the long circumvention of the crags, it was impossible to obtain a view of the Deeanay, but as we broke out into more open forest, close to Madui, one could form some idea of its rocky magnificence.
THE CAMP AT EKEIKEI.
Close to the Deeanay precipice we noted an extraordinary sight. Under a large tree that rose to a height of some 150 feet, were huge mounds, quite five feet high, of veritable sawdust, that seemed to proclaim the presence of man. On a nearer approach the wonder became greater, for the heaps were being continually augmented by a constant rain of sawdust of different grains, some finer than others. No human sawyer, of course, was there, but the tree, to a height of at least 100 feet, was riddled by coleopterous larvæ. Several families of these were represented. The tree, which was about five feet in diameter, and had a thin bark, was, as might be expected, dying. It must have possessed some strange attraction, for it was most unusual in New Guinea to find beetles thus congregated. The distribution is usually very scattered. The holes were probably made at first by small beetles of various families, but chiefly anobiadæ, followed as a rule by brenthidæ, later probably by longicorniæ. One species follows the other into the same hole, each succeeding species bigger than its predecessor. Sometimes the lepidoptera make borings, but this sawdust was much finer. Only a few living branches remained on the tree, which was a mere shell. It was, however, so well protected from winds that it still stood. Close by we saw a native hut, uninhabited, of very rude construction. This point of our journeyings is otherwise memorable, for it was here, near a creek, that we found some of our finest butterflies—lycenidæ, papiliosidæ, satyridæ, and ornithoptera primus.
We were glad to continue the ascent to Madui, where once more we emerged into the welcome light of the sun. When we were two hours’ distance from Madui, one of our carriers struck work and refused to go any farther. There was only one way of persuasion, to which I was greatly averse, but his comrades considered it necessary, and their method, which was, after all, not very harsh, had the desired effect. The other carriers picked the leaves of a gigantic nettle, and with these they gently whipped the reluctant one until he was fain to “jog on the footpath way, and merrily hent the stile a’.” A little later, he tried to desert, but his comrades brought him back, and when we halted he was kept in the centre of the camp under strict surveillance. When he had had a good rest and a hearty meal, however, he went on as cheerfully as the others.
We reached the foot of Madui Hill at 3.30 P.M., and a climb of half-an-hour brought us to the summit, which commands a fine view. On a clear day Hall Sound is visible on the coast side, and inland there is a grand prospect of mountain scenery. All the way up it had rained incessantly, and we were drenched to the skin. Our journey over rocks and precipices, watercourses and ravines, had completely tired us out, and, fortunately, the natives were too fatigued to sing. Accordingly, we contrived to get a good night’s rest, and did not leave Madui until 9.25 A.M. next day.