Some Experiences of a New Guinea Resident Magistrate

by C. A. W. Monckton

At Dobu I landed and called on the Rev. William Bromilow; as both he and Mrs. Bromilow had spent many years engaged in missionary work among the islands and were great friends of Moreton’s, he acted as a sort of bureau of information in regard to the native affairs of Normanby and Ferguson Islands. He nearly always had a long list of native crimes for one to investigate, principally murder, sorcery and adultery; the two latter, unless promptly attended to, invariably ended in the former. Bromilow gave me word of the man Ryan, and some particulars as to where I could find the native witnesses to the murder, which he had been reported as having committed; off accordingly I went, and arrested him.

The affair shortly was this. Ryan and his mate had been prospecting Normanby Island for gold: having no luck, they had gone to a native village and endeavoured to hire a canoe and some natives to take them to Dobu, where they hoped to find a vessel bound for Samarai. The natives undertook to take them there, “to-morrow”; several days passed and it was still always, “to-morrow.” The two white men became angry, thinking that the natives were merely fooling them and keeping them hanging on for what they could get in the shape of tobacco and “trade.” Accordingly Ryan had gone to a canoe that was lying on the beach and threatened that, unless the natives launched it at once and took them to Dobu, he would break it up; it was explained to him that the owners of that canoe were away and therefore it could not be used. Ryan refused to believe the natives and began to smash it with a tomahawk; at once a native, armed also with a tomahawk, rushed at him to protect the canoe. Ryan then drew his revolver and shot the man. I committed him to the Central Court for trial; and, not wishing to carry him and his mate about with me on the Siai, decided to run back to Samarai and lodge him in the gaol, pending the arrival of the Chief Justice.

Hardly had the Siai dropped anchor in Samarai harbour, than Symons came running down the beach yelling, “The Mambare men in the gaol have broken loose; they have cleared out the warders and are now armed with crowbars and picks. For God’s sake hurry up!” Hastily I ran up to the gaol, followed by my armed boat’s crew, and in a few minutes we had the Mambare men in irons. Then I sent for Armit, to ask his advice as to what I should do with them. “Flog the ringleader and keep the lot in irons,” said Armit; “there is nothing else to be done.” The following morning, as visiting Justice to the gaol, I held an inquiry into the whole affair, the result of which was that I ordered Goria, the murderer of Clark, and Bushimai, who were responsible for the outbreak, each to receive six lashes with a “cat of nine tales.” This being done, and Ryan having been safely lodged in gaol, I sailed again for Dobu and the Trobriands.

At Dobu I learnt from Bromilow that Fellows needed me badly, and so went straight on to the Trobriands. One morning at daybreak, when the Siai was about twenty miles away from the group, Sione came to my cabin and said, “The Eboa is in sight, sir.” I went on deck and sighted Graham’s old tub about five miles distant, and palpably endeavouring to dodge away from us. “Chase, Sione,” I said. “Give the Siai all she can carry.” It was a dirty morning, with a rough sea and nasty fierce rain squalls at intervals. Until the Eboa was sighted we had been dodging along under mizzen, staysail and jib only; Sione—who was at all times only too pleased to carry on—at once set mainsail and topsails, and the Siai, with her lee rail under water, tore after the Eboa as if she liked it. We began rapidly to overhaul her, while the wretched Eboa tried every point of sailing in an effort to escape. “Look, sir,” said Sione, “a guba to windward.” A guba is a fierce blinding rain squall, very narrow in width—sometimes only half a mile and seldom more than three miles—tearing its own track across the sea, and rarely lasting more than half an hour to an hour in duration. I looked at the guba, then I looked at the wriggling Eboa, still carrying every possible stitch of her ragged canvas. “Carry on, coxswain,” I said; “it would be a disgrace for the Government ship to shorten sail while that old tub carries it.” Whish! came the guba; on her beam ends went the Siai; bang! bang! bang! went topsail, staysail and mainsail; and, amidst the devil’s own din, we brought the crippled Siai up into the wind, hove-to, and began to clear away our wreckage. Nothing was to be seen more than fifty yards away in the blinding rain and spray torn from the tops of the waves by the squall. “God help the Eboa,” I said to myself, “for she must have gone to Kingdom come.”

As we worked at our wreckage, the guba passed as swiftly as it had come, and when the sky cleared we sighted the Eboa uninjured, still carrying all sail, the squall having missed her altogether. While we watched her, she apparently became aware of the crippled state of the Siai, for she suddenly went about and stood down to us; when within hailing distance Graham jumped on her rail and hailed: “Black Maria, are you in any danger?” “No,” I yelled back, “but there is a fine big bill for sails, thanks to you.” “All right, good-bye, this is no place for me;” and away went Graham, while the Siai proceeded to crawl into the Trobriands. I did not again fall in with Graham for many months, by which time he had paid his debts and the summonses had been withdrawn. When I did fall in with him, however, there still remained the matter of the anchor and chain. “Touching the matter of that anchor and chain,” I remarked. “There will be nothing further said about it by either Moreton or myself; that matter is settled once for all, after the way you stood down to my assistance in the guba, knowing well that, even if you helped me, I should have been obliged to serve the summonses on you and haul you into Samarai to answer to them, and that if I discovered the Government anchor and chain in your ship, I should also have had to jug you. I have reported the gear as lost, and if there is any further fuss, either Moreton or I will pay for them; but I want to know whether you really did collar them?” “If nothing further is to be said,” replied Graham, “I don’t mind telling you that I did take them. By the time I had refitted the Eboa, I was up to my eyes in debt to the stores; and they—knowing that they had the security of my boat whilst in Samarai—would not sell me an anchor and chain, for fear of my clearing out to German New Guinea and leaving them in the lurch. I always meant to pay my debts to them, but I couldn’t do it while the Eboa was tied up in Samarai; I would not steal the gear from a trader who could ill spare it, but I thought the Government could well afford an anchor and chain for an enterprising pioneer. Accordingly, one night I quietly sailed alongside the Siai, when only a few of her crew were on board, and sending a couple of my boys to her with a concertina and a supply of betel-nut, they wiled her anchor watch into going into the forecastle. I then unshackled the Siai’s chain at her windlass, fastened it on to my own, and—as the Siai drifted away—got my own boys back on board, lifted the anchor and went out to sea. The rest of the story you know; but, as a matter of fact, when you chased me, the Siai’s anchor and chain were the only ones I possessed. Now they are at the bottom of the sea, for as soon as I had money enough to pay my debts and buy some gear, I let her anchor and chain go in deep water.” I only met Graham again once or twice, but he afterwards took an appointment under some German prospecting company, and was killed in German New Guinea.

VILLAGE IN THE TROBRIAND ISLANDS

At last the Siai came to anchor off Kavitari, and I called upon the Rev. —— Fellows, and asked him what all the trouble was about. The first thing was, that there had been an epidemic of some sort among the natives, scores had died, and been buried a few inches below the surface in the houses of the village; truly the stench was appalling. The village was situated only a few score yards from the Mission house. I sent for the village constable, and demanded what he meant by allowing burials in the village. “I cannot do anything with the people,” replied the village constable; “they will not listen to the wise orders of the Government or the good advice of the missionary.” “He is a liar,” said Poruma; “make him dig up the corpses and put them in the cemetery. That man has got ten wives, and is always gammoning Mr. Moreton; some of his relations are buried in his own house.” “Is this village constable to be altogether trusted?” I asked Mr. Fellows. “No,” was the reply; “I regret to say that he gives me more trouble than any one else, and shelters himself under the protection of the Government and his office.” “Then, Mr. Fellows,” I said, “I should be greatly obliged if you would send off your Mission boat to the Siai, to carry a messenger from me, who will instruct Sione to land all available men, whilst I pay a visit to the v.c.’s house.” Poruma told the v.c. that we were going to his house, and he at once tried to make excuses to leave, upon the ground that he wished the village and his house cleaned up to a fitting state to receive me. “Don’t let him go,” said Poruma; “the last time we were here, he got ten pounds of tobacco from Mr. Moreton to buy yams with, and then got called away to see a sick mother.” Poruma then kindly leading the v.c. by the hand, we proceeded to his house; there—as Poruma had said—we found several bodies just beneath the floor, which the v.c. swore must have been placed there without his knowledge.

Going along through the village, Poruma still kindly leading the v.c. by the hand, we found everywhere freshly buried bodies. Mr. Fellows, who had at first accompanied me, then, at my request, went back to the Mission house, for the village was now swarming like a hive of angry bees. Sione, Warapas and a dozen armed men having by this time made their appearance, I ordered the v.c. to tell the villagers at once to disinter their dead and bury them in the cemetery. For a few minutes we were defied, but the police—mercilessly using the butts of their rifles on the heels and bare toes of the men—made them see reason, and drove them to the graves, where they were compelled to gather up the rotting remains of the corpses in baskets, and carry them to the cemetery. Once, and once only, they turned nasty; but Warapas immediately withdrew a boat’s crew and, before half a dozen levelled rifles, the Kavitari men funked. That exhuming of bodies was altogether a sickening and disgusting business, for matter and beastliness dripped the whole time from the baskets, and carriers, police and myself were seized by periodical fits of vomiting.

Having cleaned up the village, I again visited Mr. Fellows and asked him what his further troubles were. I found they were mainly due to the influence of the old paramount chief of the islands, Enamakala, who lived some ten miles inland, and who instigated thefts from the Mission and attacks upon the teachers. Plainly it was necessary for me to deal with the old chief, but I knew that, if I marched inland with an armed force, there would be a lot of bloodshed and the chief would escape; if I left, however, without doing anything, he would become bolder, and the position of the Mission after my departure would be an impossible one.