As there was nothing to tempt us to remain, and as Kerapuna, even at the best, was a dull place, we did not stay longer than four or five days. I was very anxious, too, to get back to Port Moresby to make my preparations for a second journey into the interior to resume my work. We determined to make the return journey by water, and accordingly hired a little canoe from a native, who, with a companion, came with us to act as our navigator.

The little craft was hardly more than 18 inches wide, and just held the four of us in a rather cramped position. We set our course, which lay twenty miles across Hood’s Bay to Hula, and started about 10 A.M. in fine weather. When we had got about half-way, however, the wind rose, and a tremendous swell began to come in from the point where the reef opens seawards, and very soon the dug-out was dancing like a cork and was continually shipping seas, so that Harry and I had to bale constantly.

I must say, however, that our natives knew how to handle their craft, and were very expert watermen. They kept the little square sail of matting under excellent control, and steered with the flat of a paddle from the side at the stern. Although they were very frightened, they did their best, and kept the canoe’s head up to the seas very neatly. For a time, I must confess, I myself was doubtful whether we should get through safely. We were dripping wet and in rather a sorry plight, but after rounding the point close to Hula we got into calmer water, and we landed safely, but very stiff and cold.

Two or three days later we bade good-bye to Hula, and the same whaler’s trading boat that had got us down took us back to Port Moresby, where I at once set about active preparations for my second journey inland.

On my return to Port Moresby I heard, to my great regret, the news of the death of Mr. Flood, the American naturalist. When I went up to Dinawa, while on my first journey, I left Flood in Port Moresby. Some time after he went up the Venapa River, seeking land shells. He was foolish enough to go alone, and his folly was the greater because he was very deaf. At length the authorities got alarmed about him, and Mr. Ballantine headed a search party, but the only trace of the naturalist was one of his camp fires. It is thought almost certain that he may either have strayed away and died of hunger, or he may have been devoured by a crocodile. It was not the first time that a party had gone out to seek Flood after his prolonged absence had given cause for alarm, and it was doubly absurd of him to go alone, because, even with Papuan attendants, it is difficult—as I myself have found—to pick up the trail when once it has been lost. I was much distressed about Flood, for he was a most unselfish enthusiast in the pursuit of science.

CHAPTER IX
TOWARDS THE UNEXPLORED

Beginning of Furthest Journey into Unexplored Interior—The Everlasting Question of Carriers—Difficulties and Delays—Epa again—Curious Method of Water Supply—Mavai welcomes us back—He provides a Dubious Treat—Ekeikei—The Building of a Permanent Camp—An Elaborate Undertaking—House-building on a Large Scale—Ingenious Papuan Methods of Thatching—The Chief Kafulu proves Unneighbourly—He does not fulfil his Engagements—Ow-bow’s Embassy—My Deputy is robbed—Precautions in Camp against Attack—I go down to Kafulu and deal faithfully with him—He relents, and restores Ow-bow’s Goods—An Earthquake and Hurricane at Ekeikei.

CHAPTER IX

TOWARDS THE UNEXPLORED

On January 1, 1903, Harry and I left Port Moresby on board Captain Pym’s vessel, the Whaup. This took us to Yule Island, and from that point we proceeded to Pokama, on the mainland. There we were met and entertained by Cavé, a hospitable Papuan woman, widow of Captain Williams, a trader. She has a very comfortable bungalow at Pokama, and keeps a small store, where she does business with passing traders, who are always welcome at her house. She also owns a small light-draught cutter, which brings sandalwood down from Bioto Creek, and this boat she is willing to let out to travellers. She also keeps up the beautiful gardens and fine mango trees planted by her husband, and she cultivates custard apples and a delightful fruit known as Soursop. It is the shape of a kidney and about the size of a pumpkin; within it is a mass of creamy pulp, surrounding black seeds. This pulp is most cooling, and it is accompanied by a pleasantly astringent acid juice, the whole fruit forming an ideal refreshment for the tropics.