Night, a strong south-easter and rough seas came together; by morning we were still battling against the head wind, in much the same place as we had been on the previous evening. Again the look-out reported a canoe; this time a small out-rigger, struggling in the big seas, with but a single man in it. To the canoe went the Siai, only to find the man half paralysed by fright and exhaustion; time and again we got within a few yards, yelled at him and threw ropes, but all he would do was to look straight ahead and mechanically keep, with his paddles, his tiny craft’s head to the waves. The sea was too rough for us to drop a boat, but at last, sailing close to the canoe, Poruma and Warapas—secured by ropes round their waists—leapt into the sea and fastened a rope round the stranger and his canoe, whereupon we hauled the lot on board together. We found the native to be a Ferguson Islander, who had been taken by surprise and blown out to sea by the squalls of the previous night. The man at first was greatly relieved and overjoyed at finding himself safe on the Siai; then, when warmed and fed, he got in a funk that we should carry him away with us, as others of his people had been carried off by strange vessels. “Take me to my home,” he said, “and I will give you pigs or women, yams and sweet potatoes.” Satadeai told him we did not want his gifts, but would safely land him at his village when the weather permitted; also that I should be pleased if he would induce his friends to sell us all the yams and sweet potatoes they did not require. The Siai then put in three uncomfortable days, waiting for the weather to moderate sufficiently to permit us to land the man; then land him we did, and that was the last we saw of either him or his yams.
We learnt one thing, however, from his village friends and relations, namely, that the large canoe we had spoken the day before we picked him up, had been to Ferguson on a cannibal raid, where they had captured and eaten several people. I groaned as I thought how I had had that canoe full of malefactors in my hands, and had let them go; I also thought of the delightful story they would be able to tell in the villages. Poruma said, “Mr. Moreton would have known; he would not have let that canoe go. Mr. Moreton, he——” What Moreton would have done, I don’t know, as Poruma was asked to go to the mast-head and wait there until I needed him. Poruma at times was trying to the nerves! From here we sailed for Samarai.
CHAPTER XI
While we were at Samarai, I put Patten to work re-rigging the Siai. When Sir William MacGregor arrived, he gently hinted that he rather thought I must have caught Patten for the express purpose of refitting the Siai, a remark that I thought was better passed over in dignified silence!
Hardly had the Siai dropped her anchor, when in came a cutter owned by Thompson—the man owning the plantation on Goodenough Island—who reported that his Station had been surprised, and many of his native employees murdered by the islanders. Thompson himself only escaped by the accident of being engaged with some of his boys in night fishing on a reef when the attack occurred. Hastily, therefore, the Siai prepared for her departure to Goodenough Island once more; Thompson refused to accompany us, upon the ground that he had escaped once, and never wished to see the island or its inhabitants again.
Before leaving Samarai, I had to hear several cases set down for trial at the R.M.’s Court; among which were charges against Billy the Cook and Carruth of supplying natives with grog. The Ordinance, under which the cases were heard, was the first act passed by Sir William MacGregor, upon his Excellency assuming control of New Guinea, and was probably the most severe act of its kind in the world. It provided a minimum fine of £20 or two months’ imprisonment, and a maximum one of £200 and two years’ imprisonment, for any person convicted of supplying firearms, liquor or opium to a native. It defined a native, as any person other than of European parentage. The Emperors of China or Japan, or the Rajahs of India would be natives under the act; Sir William MacGregor was nothing if not thorough, and when he said that the natives should not have liquor, he left no loop-hole of escape for the person found guilty of supplying it.
Up to the time I left New Guinea, this act was always very strictly enforced; so much so, in fact, that hotel-keepers would not even supply ginger ale to a coloured man, for fear of having to defend themselves against a charge of liquor selling; and this is exactly what I found had occurred. Billy the Cook had imported a wife and a sister-in-law to help in the hotel; his sister-in-law, being ignorant of the local law, had sold a glass of something to a Malay over the bar, and a native boy passing, saw him drinking it and told Symons, who promptly charged Billy with a breach of the act. A nice time I had with this case; Billy, of course, swore he knew nothing about the matter, the girl and his wife wept and contradicted themselves half a dozen times over, and the Malay said he had bought ginger ale. My difficulty chiefly lay in the fact, that should I convict, the minimum penalty was too great for an innocent mistake; so at last I threw the case out of Court. Carruth’s case came on next. The evidence here was clear, but he tried to wriggle out of it, by saying that he had merely supplied the stuff for medicinal purposes; that was a little too thin, as the Malays all looked as tough as wire rope. I forget what I fined Carruth, but it was something heavy. “I am going to appeal,” he remarked; “I believe you think you are here to raise revenue for the Government.” “There is no appeal under this act,” I replied, “and if you are not careful you will get a little more; if, however, you are dissatisfied, you can petition his Excellency for a reduction or remission of the fine.” Carruth did petition the Governor, and I heard afterwards that the reply he got from the Government Secretary was, “I am directed to express his Excellency’s surprise at your petition and the leniency of the Magistrate.”
Under this act, a Resident Magistrate was empowered to issue an annual permit, to a “native,” to keep and use fire-arms; and in the case of a “native” possessing a greater proportion of white than coloured blood—in order to avoid individual hardship—a permit could be granted to purchase intoxicating liquors.
The Siai now sailed again for Goodenough Island, calling on the way for Satadeai, who was needed as an interpreter. Carefully picking our way among the shoals of the north-east coast of Goodenough, we at last dropped anchor abreast of Thompson’s Station and plantation. Here we found that the bodies of the murdered men had been buried by the natives, not eaten as I expected; and the house, though looted, had not been burnt. On this trip I had with me the Queensland boys—Billy, Harry, and Palmer—who had latterly formed the crew of the Guinevere, as I intended to use them as trackers. From the plundered house we found tracks of natives leading in a northerly direction; these we followed until we came to a village, the tracks leading into which were thickly sown with small sharpened foot spears, pointing in the direction from which we came; picking these out as we passed, we at last came to within a hundred yards of the village—apparently unperceived by the natives—and, rushing it, secured two men. The remainder bolted, and set up a clamour in the bush some distance away; dragging our two unwilling prisoners with us, we hastily returned to the Siai, reaching that vessel unattacked. Safely on board I examined the men, and found that the village from which we had captured them was innocent of complicity in the murders; they, however, were able to give me the names of the actual murderers and the inland villages from which they came.