BUSHIMAI, CHIEF OF THE BINANDERE PEOPLE
Green’s head was cut off and carried away as a trophy, and his body buried; not one of the bodies of the white men were eaten, though some of those of the police and carriers were. One miner climbed a tree near Duvira village and, being discovered there, was stoned from the tree and clubbed to death by children. A party of five miners and some of their boys drifted out to sea on a raft, with neither food nor water, except a tin of treacle; after seven days they were picked up by a German man-of-war, and taken to Sydney. Eight years later, I found Green’s cook living amongst a tribe upon the north-east coast, by whom he had been adopted, and one of whose women he had married. Many of the facts of the massacre I heard, a number of years afterwards, from some of the natives concerned in it, who were—as quite reformed characters—serving under me in the Armed Constabulary.
News of the affair at last drifted through to Moreton at Samarai; he first sent a vessel with the report to Port Moresby, and left for the Mambare in the Siai, accompanied by a miner named Alexander Elliott. The tidings were longer in reaching the Governor than they should have been, as the vessel carrying them encountered head winds all the way; and a duplicate dispatch, sent by Moreton overland, was delayed for some days at a village en route by a presumptuous and thick-headed Samoan teacher of the London Missionary Society. When Moreton arrived at the Mambare, he ascended the river in a whaleboat to the point where Green had been killed, the natives using against him on several occasions the rifles they had taken at the Station; for these, however, they had already expended most of the ammunition, and were at the best extremely bad shots. Finding that nothing was to be done at the Station, and that some miners, seven days’ journey further inland, were safe, Moreton returned to the Siai to await the arrival of the Governor. During Moreton’s absence some of the crew had taken the dingey ashore for firewood, and being suddenly surprised by the natives, had rushed into the sea and swam off to the Siai. Sione and Warapas, the coxswain and mate, had then placed their rifles in a cask and swum ashore, pushing it in front of them; when able to get a footing on the bottom, they had used their rifles against the men on the beach, and recovered the dingey. This action on the part of the two boys strikes one as an extremely plucky one, when one remembers that both sharks and alligators haunt the waters of Duvira Bay.
Sir William MacGregor now appeared upon the scene; his patrols of constabulary swept the country from the Opi River to the north, as far as the Gira to the south of the Mambare; and the Ruby launch patrolled the river. Clark’s murderers and Dumai, together with Bushimai, his sons and a number of principal offenders, were captured: it became a question with the natives whether they were to surrender, fight, or flee from the river beyond the reach of the patrols, and after a time most of them decided to take refuge in flight. Shanahan and a fresh detachment of constabulary were stationed at Tamata, the miners returned to their work, and a fresh start was made; but a breach had been opened between Europeans and natives that it was to take many years to heal, and was also to lead to a great deal more bloodshed. The only man in New Guinea who would have been able to deal with the situation now existing—other than the Governor himself—was John Green; and he had gone where miners and natives alike worry not. The Northern Division was destined for many years to prove the death of a long succession of officers or, at the best, the grave of their reputations. Shanahan, Armit, Lynch, Park, Close, and Walker were to die; whilst several others were either dismissed or called upon to resign. Many officers in later years preferred to resign rather than be sent there.
TAMATA STATION
CHAPTER X
The night before I sailed from Samarai, Sione came to me and told me that he had recently been married, and that Moreton had promised to allow him to take his wife on the next round trip of the Siai; he also asked a like permission for Warapas. I remarked, that if Moreton had given leave I had no objection, and that if one woman came, I saw no reason why two should not. “Very good, sir,” said Sione; “if you have no objection, Warapas will get up anchor and take the Siai out when you are ready, and a new boy, who signed on to-day, will act as mate; I will go off in a canoe and pick up my wife and Mrs. Warapas, and come on board as you go through the passage, since the tide will not allow me to come back.” To this I consented, telling Sione to order Warapas to send a boat off for me at midnight, when the tide served.
Night and eleven o’clock came, my books, papers, and private stores were sent off to the Siai, when Poruma—Moreton’s private attendant who had been handed over to me during his absence—said, “You have no whisky on board, sir.” Accordingly I went up to Billy’s pub to buy some; emerging from there, with a bottle of whisky clasped in each hand, I encountered a boat’s crew from the Siai, and the newly signed-on acting mate. That potentate gazed at my bottles and me, and then commanded his boat’s crew to seize me and take me on board; protests, curses, and threats were unavailing; seized I was, held firmly, dragged on board, and shoved down into my cabin, to be joined the next moment by a frightfully angry and protesting Poruma. “What the devil is the meaning of this, Poruma?” I demanded. “I don’t know, sir, I think the new mate is mad.” The cabin door was locked, and I cursed through the ports, while Poruma abused the crew in Suau and threatened the vengeance to come. Slowly the Siai dropped down the harbour, until a canoe scraped alongside and Coxswain Sione came on board, and in a moment the cabin scuttle was unfastened and Poruma and I released. Foaming with rage, I paraded the crew on deck and demanded an explanation of the outrage, which was explained in this way: the acting mate had served in a trading vessel at Thursday Island, where his master was in the habit of getting beastly drunk on the eve of sailing, and refusing then to come on board; and he always instructed a boat’s crew to land, dodge about outside the pub, and carry him on board whether he liked it or not. Going ashore with a crew to fetch me, he had been told by Poruma that I had gone to the pub; he had followed me there and, seeing me emerge with two bottles of whisky in my hands, had concluded that his old Thursday Island custom was to be carried out. My violence, threats, and curses he had taken as quite in the natural order of events. I listened to the explanation, and then gently suggested that the acting mate should spend the next two days at the mast-head; Poruma said he ought to be ironed and put in the hold, as his violent action had prevented him from telling me that there was no soap on board. “Where is the ship’s soap, Sione?” I asked. “That has nothing to do with my private stores.” “Mr. Moreton,” said Sione, “met plenty ships and plenty dirty men; when a dirty man came on board the Siai, Mr. Moreton would say as he left, ‘take this with my compliments,’ and give him a bar of soap. I suppose Mr. Moreton or Poruma forgot to tell you that it was all done.”