British New Guinea is to most people the least-known part of our empire; but there are few valleys in its dark interior in which the prospector has not "chipped" some quartz formation, or "panned" some sand from the river's bed. The British flag was first planted in Eastern New Guinea by Captain, now Admiral, John Moresby, of H.M.S. Basilisk, in 1872. This officer, whilst employed in superintending the pearl shell fisheries in Torres Straits, learnt that adventurers, both American and French, were contemplating expeditions and occupation of the then unknown shores of Eastern New Guinea.
The captain of the Basilisk, being aware of the great strategical importance of these coasts to Australia, resolved to forestall any such attempt, and fortunately succeeded in securing for England the whole of Eastern New Guinea and its adjacent islands. Ultimately, however, a large part of his labour was lost owing to the retrograde policy of the times, when Germany was allowed to seize so considerable a part of North-Eastern New Guinea without opposition.
Samarai has now eclipsed Port Moresby as the chief port of the possession. It is built, or rather erected, upon a small island at the extreme south-east of the mainland, and is in direct communication with Cooktown in Queensland and the Australian capitals. From Samarai coasting-steamers run regularly to the mouths of the Mambare, Kumusi, and Gira rivers on the north-eastern coast, and in the upper reaches and sources of these rivers are the great gold deposits, the origin of which has completely baffled the mineralogist and geologist to explain. The men there do not trouble themselves as to its origin, however, and while the river-beds continue to yield a sure and steady quantity of gold to the ordinary miner, and the mountain gorges or creeks provide sensational "finds" for the more daring prospector, no one cares whether the presence of the precious metal is in accordance with the views of geologists or otherwise.
"It is a fact that the bottom is on top," said an old pioneer. "But then the outcrops are all inside the darned mountains, so we are quits."
The township of Tamata is the most important centre of the New Guinean goldfields, but the Yodda Valley camp rivals it closely, and it is expected that some of the new camps at the base of Mount Albert Edward will in time surpass them both. The fierce, unreasoning hostility of the natives renders prospecting at any distance from the settlements an extremely dangerous occupation, as the writer, who has had several experiences among the cannibalistic tribes of the lower ranges, can testify. As a rule, however, the prospector scorns all such dangers, and if he escapes the dreaded fever, trusts to his rifle for protection and his luck for fortune, and straightway proceeds to cut a path into some unknown river valley.
The famous Yodda Valley, where men at first made fifty ounces of gold (equivalent to £180 per day), was discovered in such manner, and if the stories of some of the prospecting parties who crossed New Guinea in all directions were given to the world, doubtless a "rush" would set in towards the deadly fever-swamps, unparalleled in the world's history both for its general extent and the amount of victims. Round the camp-fires at night, enveloped in their smoke to escape the many pests, the men of the various settlements regularly gather to discuss the latest news from the coast, and to consider the many strange reports of "great strikes" constantly circulated by the friendly natives. Frequently a party is organised to go and prove the truth of any such report, and when in turn word is sent back that the chances are good, a general exodus often takes place, all setting out for the new fields with light hearts and high hopes.
Miners cannot stay in New Guinea for more than one season at a time; they are forced by repeated attacks of the various fevers to leave their work and take a "spell" in the southern parts of Australia or New Zealand. In my opinion lack of proper food is the prime cause of these fevers, as it is only when the men are "run down" that the kuri-kuri breaks out among them. The stores are floated as far as possible up the rivers in oil-launches and whale-boats, and then transported overland to the camps by native carriers in the employment of the diggers. The majority of the miners are Australians; but in most prospecting parties there is usually a Scotsman and an Irishman, and not infrequently a German.
In the party with which I was associated there were two typical Australian prospectors, one German, one Irishman, and, including myself, two Scots. We also had six native carriers and two dogs. My Scottish comrade said that "the dugs were as guid as ony twa men"; but however that might apply to the whites, it was at least unfair to our dusky "boys," who were Fly River natives, and only cost one shilling each for wages per day. We all had had experience on other goldfields, and each man was fever-proof, which in New Guinea means impregnated with quinine. "Doc," the Irishman, was a Dublin University man of some repute. He had been in turn a member of a famous North Polar expedition, and an officer in the American Philippino campaign. Mac had been everywhere, but his accent seemed to become more pronounced the farther from home he wandered. The two Australians, Emu Bill and Starvation Sam, were good specimens of the wandering Anglo-Saxon. Bill was one of the pioneers of Coolgardie, but if he were addressed by his real name, William Hambley, he would probably not recognise it. Sam was the son of a governor of a not unknown "'link' in our chain of Empire"; but as he adopted his cognomen to hide his identity, and no one would dream of calling him anything else, perhaps I will be excused from going further into his family history. He was six feet five inches in height, had been in his time soldier, sailor, missionary, pearler, outlaw, and mail-carrier, from which description all Queenslanders and South Sea travellers will immediately recognise him. Our German companion was a first-class mineralogist and an excellent comrade—and cook; but he deeply resented the appellation of Kaiser, which Mac bestowed upon him.
"I am not Cherman," he would say. "I vas been as mooch English as you, Scodie."