From Pokama we went by canoe to Yule Island, where we halted at the Sacred Heart Mission, and then went on to Aruopaka, where we stayed for several days in the house of Mr. Russell. Mr. Russell himself was absent, but we joined him later at Moa, one and a half hours’ row from Aruopaka, a voyage which we made in our host’s whaleboat. From Moa we passed by way of Inawee, Inawa, and Inawabia to Aipiana, the Government station, where Mr. Russell entertained us for five days. In the curiously-named villages just mentioned we tried to collect carriers, and at this juncture I sent Harry back to Pokama to bring on the goods we had left behind us, appointing to meet him at Bioto. During his absence Mr. Russell and I went to the southward through other villages Rarai and Nara, and picked up twenty more men. On our way through these southern villages we met Captain Barton, then the head of the native armed constabulary, and now the Administrator. With him I spent one night, and then pushed on to Bioto with my thirty bearers, who, as yet, had nothing to carry. To perform the journey adequately I really should have had a force of seventy. At Bioto we enlisted a few, but our numbers were still very insufficient. At 4 A.M. in the morning after my arrival at Bioto, Harry rejoined me, and during that day we began sending the baggage by relays to Epa. Harry had been enabled to bring all our remaining goods with him through the kindness of the Rev. Mr. Dauncey, who had lent him his whaleboat. With the help of the Chief Constable, who gave us the use of his canoe, we got the baggage along to Oo-fa-fa, from which point I was assisted by my old friend Mavai, who sent down carriers from Epa to take the stuff up to Ekeikei. At Bioto the mosquitoes were at this time a terror, and were so thick that one could hardly put food in one’s mouth or take an aim with a gun.
THE VILLAGES OF ELEVADA AND HANUABADA.
The latter is built on piles in the water. Its inhabitants are the potters of New Guinea.
While we passed through Epa on this occasion, I noticed specially the extraordinary method of water supply there in vogue. A spring which supplies the community was distant some twenty minutes’ walk down-hill, and twice every day, in the morning and just before dusk, the women went down to draw water. This they carried in long bamboos, measuring at least 12 feet. The partitions dividing the sections of bamboo had been knocked out with a long, hard stick, the bottom one was allowed to remain, and these light but unwieldy receptacles, capable of holding about thirty-six pints each, were taken to the spring and filled. The open end was plugged with a green leaf, and the women carried the vessels up-hill held slantwise over their shoulder. The bamboo was set up against a shady wall, beside the house door, and the method of procuring a small supply of water was comical in the extreme. Whenever you wanted a drink two people had to officiate; a native took hold of the bamboo by the lower end and you proceeded to the other. It was then gingerly lowered towards you, for the greatest care had to be taken not to tilt it too far, otherwise more water than you wanted would have come out with a rush and drenched you.
On my reappearance at that village I was very heartily welcomed by the chief. I found him busily engaged in hunting the cassowary and the pig, and generally keeping up his reputation of a great sportsman.
During this visit to Mavai, the excellent chief, who kept fowls, presented me with two eggs; these we boiled with lively anticipations of a treat, but we broke the shells only to discover that the eggs were of a remote antiquity. We passed them on, however, to Ow-bow, who received them with gratitude, for he regarded chicken in this form as a very great delicacy indeed.
I purchased some sago from the chief, and when we got bearers together I started for Ekeikei. One day’s journey brought us to our destination, which was situated 1500 feet above sea level, on the foot-hills of the Owen Stanley range. This point I had already selected in my mind as the scene of my future labours, and I at once set about building a permanent camp. I chose the site in a part of the forest overlooking a fine valley, and we set to work speedily, felling the forest trees to make the necessary clearing. It was a big business, much bigger than founding our establishment at Dinawa, but I intended to erect much more permanent structures, which were to be built large enough not only to serve for scientific work, but as a depôt for expeditions to other districts. The house and two collecting verandahs were all in one building, one verandah facing the forest and the other the valley, so as to permit of work being carried on whatever the direction of the wind. The whole structure was built on poles 6 feet 6 inches off the ground, so that my natives could shelter, sling their hammocks, and take their meals below. This work occupied us three weeks, and in it we were assisted by Mavai’s people, who were helped by the villagers of the neighbouring chief, Kafulu. These came in to lend a hand for the sake of tobacco and other trade articles they needed.
The best thatch to be obtained in Papua is the sago leaf, and of this the natives make roofs that are water-tight and very durable. At Ekeikei we adopted this method. Along the rafters of our house we ran horizontal bamboos, and instead of a ridge-pole roof we had two of these bamboos running from end to end a few inches apart. The frond of the sago leaf which we used for this purpose is at least 4 feet long; it measures 6 inches at the base, and tapers to a point. To begin the thatch, one takes the leaf and bends it two-thirds away from the apex. One starts from the bamboo horizontal that lies nearest the eaves, and hooks the leaf over, laying the pointed end out. On the next higher bamboo one hooks over another leaf, similarly folded, so that its long pointed end far overlaps the other, and so on until the ridge of the roof is reached. The operation is thus repeated until the whole roof is thatched. The space between the two parallels which form the ridge-pole is finally covered with grass laid thickly across and across. The sago leaf is grooved laterally, and forms, as it were, a natural water-spout for carrying off the rain.
So durable is this roof that after an absence of five months we found that our Ekeikei house was still water-tight. This thatch is, however, a great harbourage for cockroaches, and there must have been millions of them in our house. At night we could hear them rustling among the dry leaves. I could not ascertain that they had done any actual damage, and they had the grace not to fall down upon us.
As soon as the camp was finished we settled down to our old routine of work, very similar to that observed during our stay at Dinawa, and for a time all went smoothly. But suddenly a cloud loomed upon our horizon in the shape of our neighbour Kafulu. This worthy, whose village was an hour’s journey off, had often visited the camp while the building was in progress. He was a very low type of Papuan, with a receding forehead and a face altogether ape-like. After his people, who helped me in my building operations, had been paid off, I did a little business with the chief himself, and ordered sago stalks for wattling the sides of the house. For these I paid in advance, but the sago was not forthcoming. I made no complaint at first, and this probably deceived him into thinking I might be treated with further contumely, for he suddenly began to threaten my boys, until at last they would no longer venture out into the forest to collect. Accordingly, I sent my trusty advocate Ow-bow and his wife down to Kafulu’s village to know the reason why he did not deliver the sago, which was several weeks overdue. Ow-bow was allowed to take a gun with him, but no cartridges, and his empty weapon evidently was not impressive. My emissary’s experience was painful; Kafulu did not take his life, but he took his effects. Now, every Papuan carries with him as his most cherished possession a little net-bag, containing a charming collection of oddments dear to the savage mind—his knife, tobacco, bamboo pipe, matches, which he had earned, betel-nut and gourd, and little trophies of the chase. All these Kafulu took from the unfortunate Ow-bow, as well as his blanket, his dogs’ teeth necklace, and other adornments. Thus bereft, Ow-bow executed a strategic movement to the rear, and returned to camp with his tale of wrong. Kafulu then sent in a polite message informing me that he had no intention of sending the sago, and further, that I was not to shoot bird, kangaroo, wallaby, or any game around my camp, for they were his animals; otherwise he would burn the camp and kill us all.