Some Experiences of a New Guinea Resident Magistrate

by C. A. W. Monckton

Taking, therefore, ten men and Poruma, I left in the afternoon for the nearest village, swimming on the way a river in which alligators seemed to be disagreeably plentiful. Getting some miles inland, we ascended a ridge in a grassy pocket situated in the dense bush, and sighted the cocoanuts and gardens of a large village; at the same time, like quail, rose two scouts from the grass; these fled for the village, giving loud yells of warning, and were promptly pursued by four of my men. Shouts of defiance, mingled with the beating of drums and blowing of horns, answered the warning cries. “See, sir!” said Poruma, “the grass moves with spears.” Following his pointing hand, I looked and saw the tips of a long sinuous line of spears; hurriedly I whistled my men back, and ordered them to lie down in the long grass on the ridge. The line of spears came nearer, then the bearers broke into a trot and started up the hill; just behind them came a number of slingsmen, who were beginning to pelt the hill with sling-stones, which, however—concealed in the grass as we were—failed to do any damage. “Hold your fire, you blackguards,” I said to my men, as they began to flop home the breech blocks of their Sniders, and to whimper like a pack of eager hounds.

The sling-stones were now flying harmlessly over us; at about sixty yards I ordered the men to stand up and fire, the result being that several natives were knocked over, and for a minute their line reeled down the hill, allowing us to get in another telling volley. Reforming, they charged up the hill, only to be driven back again by a steady fire, I myself using a sixteen-shot Winchester repeater. Yelling with excitement, my men broke line in their impatience to charge after the Goodenough natives. “Don’t let them go,” said Poruma, “those bushmen are not beaten yet; Mr. Moreton, he——” “Shut up, Poruma,” I said, and then yelled at the men to lie down in the grass and crawl twenty yards downhill. It was well we did; for in a few minutes, the spot we had occupied was having chips knocked off it by sling-stones. “Oh, master, you know too much,” said my men as, in security, we watched the peppering of our late position. Then—sudden as a hail shower—the stones ceased, and again the islanders charged; only three, however, reached our line, the rest either dropping in the grass or turning and running away before our fire. By the time the three men reached us, the Snider rifles of the police were empty. I shot one man at about twelve yards, and hastily jerking at the lever of my Winchester threw it again to my shoulder, and pulled the trigger at a second man who was coming straight for me. The lock clicked, but no report followed, and dropping my rifle—as the man raised his spear to strike—I tried simultaneously to draw my revolver and squirm out of the way of the stab. Just in the nick of time, there came an appalling explosion close by my ear, nearly stunning me, and my enemy’s face seemed to go out at the back of his head; Poruma had fired both barrels of my shot gun into the man’s face. The order to charge was hailed by the police with a yell, and, using the butts of their rifles freely, they captured several prisoners from among the now flying islanders.

Then we returned to the Siai, dragging our prisoners with us, leaving the natives to bury their dead and succour their wounded: a small body of freshly arrived natives followed us, but a shot or two kept them at a distance. My men had only sustained a few bruises. I learnt that night from our prisoners, that we had rather taken the village by surprise, as a much larger body of men than we had yet encountered was available from some further back villages. I thanked my stars that we had not met their full strength, for it had been touch and go with us as it was.

The following morning—after letting go the Siai’s second anchor to render her doubly secure, and having chained all the prisoners in the hold—I landed every man on board, viz. fifteen fighting men, the three armed Queensland boys and Satadeai, for an attempt on the inland hill villages. Mesdames Sione and Warapas were left sitting on the hatch, with tomahawks in their hands, and instructions to crack any man on the head who attempted to break loose. We hid the Siai’s boats in the mangroves and struck inland, avoiding tracks in order to dodge ambushes, and marching silently in very extended order. Suddenly we came upon a point where half a dozen tracks from the mountains converged upon the main path to the coast; here I broke up my party into small bodies to explore the tracks, and all had orders to move at once towards any sound of rifle fire. I remained at the junction of the tracks with a lame boy, Giorgi, an ex-private of Constabulary, who, having injured his tendon Achilles in a fight, had been transferred to the Siai’s crew, as no longer fit for severe marches.

Giorgi knew a little of the Goodenough language, and as he and I sat and smoked our pipes—whilst I awaited a report from one or other of the scouting parties—we heard voices, and, secreting ourselves in the scrub, saw emerge from it half a dozen armed men only a few paces away. “Tell them to throw down their arms, or they die this instant,” I whispered. Giorgi yelled at them, and they stopped petrified by surprise; then—in response to a still more imperative roar from him—dropped the spears, clubs and slings, and stood still. Handing my Winchester to Giorgi, and taking his two handcuffs and my own pair, I walked up to the men, and, moving them together, handcuffed them one to another, Giorgi meanwhile uttering blood-curdling threats of what would happen to them if they moved. When I had secured them, Giorgi emerged; and great was the disgust of that six when they discovered that they had been taken by two men. Every one of these men, we afterwards found, had been concerned in the massacre of Thompson’s boys.

Shortly after this my scouting parties returned, and reported that the islanders were apparently in strong force in a village approached by a razor-backed spur, to which I at once proceeded. As we came to its foot, loud horn blowing and beating of drums showed plainly that our whereabouts was known; as I gazed at the spur, wondering how on earth I could storm the village without losing all my men, a party of natives suddenly emerged from the bush and, to our mutual surprise, walked right into us. A few hastily aimed shots on our part, and a few hurriedly thrown spears on theirs, ended the affair, the natives flying into the bush. They were evidently a party moving up to the assistance of the threatened village, quite unaware of our position.

This last encounter alarmed me exceedingly: for, when all was said and done, we only numbered fifteen rifles; and had that last party of islanders discovered us before we did them, or had they been more numerous, we should have been overwhelmed in the first rush. At close quarters an empty Snider is a no more efficient weapon than a club or spear, and numbers would tell: my revolver, at the most, would only last for a couple of minutes. Accordingly I summoned Sione, Warapas, and Poruma and put the case to them. “You have seen what happened just now,” I said; “shall we stop and fight the people ourselves, or shall we ask the Governor for help? I want your advice before we run away.” “The man who hunts the wild boar with a fish spear is not strong, only mad,” said Sione, “and we are but a fish spear.” “It has been a good fight,” said Warapas; “it will be a bad one for us if we stay.” “If Mr. Moreton were here,” said Poruma, “he would have had more men to begin with, and would not have run away.” Solemnly then I clouted Poruma’s head. “What do you mean by that, you young devil?” I asked. “We are far too few, and should bolt as fast as we can,” replied that injured individual.

Our course of action decided, I lost no time in putting it into effect; we therefore began our backward march. Yells of triumph from the natives told us clearly that our retreat was noted—though little cause for rejoicing had we given our opponents up to the present time. Shouts behind us and horns on either side, soon showed me that we were not out of the wood yet. For greater security, I marched my party along in the open grass patches, and kept them doubling like a hare from side to side, whilst occasionally a harmless volley shifted a too venturesome lot of natives out of our way; once or twice we faced about, and drove back the following body. The day wore on; and then I saw that unless I made the coast very quickly, dusk would be upon us, when, under its cover, the surrounding natives could come, unperceived, sufficiently near to shatter us with their sling-stones, while the flashing of our rifles would serve to keep them informed of our exact location. Hastily we made for the coast in a direct line by compass, plunging into and swimming a horrible alligator-infested stream on the way, and whacking along our reluctant prisoners. We struck the sea just at dusk, and marching out into it up to our middles—in order to prevent our figures showing prominently against the sky-line—waded along the coast, until opposite the point where we had hidden our boats, when once again we put off safely to the Siai. Mrs. Warapas and Mrs. Sione hailed their husbands with joy, and gladly handed over their watch.

At daybreak we sailed again for Samarai, on the way warning off a small trader bound for the disturbed district. On our arrival, I found the Merrie England at anchor with Sir William MacGregor on board, to whom I at once proceeded with my report. His Excellency listened to me and then asked, “Have you secured all the guilty men?” “No, sir, I have only nine of them.” “Why have you not arrested them all?” “Because, sir, they have taken refuge in a hill village, which is too strong for the Siai’s force to capture.” “I will give you Captain Butterworth and a detachment of Constabulary,” said his Excellency, “and you will go to Goodenough Island at once, returning here in two weeks with all the men wanted, in time for the return of the Merrie England from the Mambare; but see that there are no houses burnt and no trees cut down by your men. When will you be ready to sail?” “In half an hour, sir,” was my answer; “I only want time to water and provision the Siai.” “To-morrow will do very well,” the Governor told me; “now sit down and tell me about the rest of the district affairs.”

Sitting down, I unfolded my tale, getting approval here, remarks as to how I could have done better there, and so on, until I came to the gaol mutiny, and the flogging of Bushimai and Goria. Thunder of Heaven, as the Germans say, then did I catch the storm! “Mr. Monckton, I entirely disapprove of flogging under any circumstances; you have exceeded your powers and gone outside my known native policy.” In five minutes I was reduced to a very dismal state, though I don’t believe that any man other than Sir William MacGregor could have done it. At last I quacked out, “But, sir, I flogged under the authority of the Prisons Ordinance, and by the advice of such an experienced magistrate as Mr. Armit.” “It does not matter to me whose advice you acted upon, I expect my officers to act upon their own good judgment. Ask Mr. Winter to come to me, and come back yourself,” said Sir William. Glad to escape, I fled for the Chief Judicial Officer. “His Excellency wants you, sir; I’m in an awful mess, what shall I do?” “Don’t worry about it,” said that always sympathetic Judge; “go to my cabin, and bring up the volume of the Gazettes containing the Prisons Ordinance.” Finding that Ordinance, in desperate haste I tore after the C.J.O., arriving on the fore-deck close on his heels.