“What the devil is the meaning of the row in the village, Basilio?” I asked, by way of beginning the conversation. “It is humming like a swarm of angry bees.” “I don’t know, sir; but twice the fathers have sent here to-day asking for you, and I have answered that you were away, and I did not know when you would return.” Basilio was a devout R.C., and invariably referred to the Sacred Heart missionaries as “the fathers.” “I have warned Corporal Sara to keep ten men under arms,” he went on, “as I am certain there is trouble of some sort brewing, over the sickness of the people; ten have died in Veipa since you left, and the sorcerers say it is either the fault of the Government or of the Mission.” “Send a couple of men to the Mission house at once,” I said, “and ask Fathers Bouellard or Vitali to let me know what the trouble is.” Basilio sent the men off; meanwhile the angry hum from the village rose to a yapping, snarling note, that I did not like.
HOUSE AT APIANA, MEKEO
The Mekeo detachment, at this time, was the only one in New Guinea armed with bayonets. The strain on my nerves became rather greater than I could stand; therefore I bolted to the barracks and told Sara to turn out every available man to be ready for action in the village. Hardly had the men paraded with bayonets fixed, than back came my two men. “The Veipa villagers are fighting,” they said, “arrows are flying thick, and the fathers are trying to pacify them; unless you are quick, the missionaries will be killed.” Hastily I doubled my men down the path to the village, which I found lit up by enormous bonfires, while two opposite factions of villagers were wildly shooting arrows and fighting savagely; Fathers Vitali and Bouellard, with several brothers of the Mission, were dancing about among them and endeavouring to maintain peace. Veipa village had a nice wide straight street, in which the riot was going on; swinging my men into line at the end of it, I bid them charge. No one was killed, though a few bayonets bit deep, and a few skulls were damaged by the butt ends; in five minutes the natives were flying howling to their houses. Then I gathered up the fathers and took them off to supper with me, leaving a patrol to keep the village in order. “The good God sent you in time,” said Father Vitali; “we thought you were away, and that it was the revolution.” “After I have had a little sleep, I think the villagers of Veipa will think it is the revolution,” I remarked. “I will warrant them tribulation.” Later I had the two priests escorted home, and at the same time sent a message to the patrol, that they were to bully and bang the inhabitants about as much as possible, and also that they were to tell the natives that, if so much as a piece of soft mud touched the good fathers or sisters, I would make them believe that millions of devils were loose among them. “Remind them,” I said to the patrol, “of what happened to the two sorcerers climbing my fence, and tell them that I am devising a worse punishment still for them, if they offend further.”
The following afternoon, I sent for the village constable of Veipa and withdrew the patrol, as I heard from the priests that all was now quiet, and the people waiting in a chastened frame of mind for the punishment to come. The explanation of the riot, given to me by the village constable, was that several deaths had occurred, and, in compliance with Government Regulations, the bodies had been buried in the allotted cemetery; then several more people died and the village was filled with fear and wailing. Now came the sorcerers’ opportunity; and they promptly improved it by preaching to the people, that the plague had come upon them for abandoning the old practices of the tribe, in favour of Government and Mission ways. “Did we have deaths like this, when we buried our dead under the floors of the houses?” they asked, answering themselves, “No!” Then—instigated by the sorcerers—the natives began again to bury their newly dead in the houses, whilst others dug up those already in the cemetery, for removal to the village. The constable and Government chief had asked the fathers to come and help them to persuade the villagers to obey the law; but by the time the fathers could come, feeling between the factions—respectively obeying the constable and the sorcerers—was running high: arguments, threats, and persuasion having failed, the constable started removing the bodies by force, and the riot began. “Where is the chief sorcerer?” I asked. “He ran away when the row began,” was the reply. “Why did you not arrest him?” “I did suggest it,” said the v.c., “but he threatened to smite me with a wasting sickness, if I touched him.”
The village constable then reeled off a list of offenders and law-defying men in his village, which I wrote down, and then sent him off to tell them to come to me at once; they came—about forty of them—some looking sulky or sullen, some angry, and some frightened. “Tell them, Basilio, to sit down in a line in front of me.” They sat down; the v.c., glad to get a little revenge, hastening the laggards by sharp blows with his truncheon.
“Now,” I remarked, “I have heard a lot about sorcery since I came here, I am going to treat you to a little. Basilio, tell them to look at my eyes as I pass down the line, and tell me what they notice!” “Well?” I asked, when they had all looked, “what do they see?” “They say your eyes are not as the eyes of other men, alike in colour, but differ one from the other.” “Very true,” I said, as I stepped back a dozen feet where all could see me plainly. “Now tell them to look at my mouth,” and I grinned, showing an excellent set of false teeth. They looked. “Well?” “They see strong white teeth,” Basilio interpreted, smothering a grin as he guessed what was coming. Turning my back for a second, I dropped my false teeth into my handkerchief and, swinging round again, exposed a row of toothless gums. A yell of horror and amazement went up, and fearful glances were cast behind for somewhere whither to bolt. I swept my handkerchief before my mouth, and again grinned a glistening toothful grin. There were no sulky or defiant glances now, nothing but looks of abject fear and horror. “Ask them, Basilio, whether in all their villages, there is a sorcerer that can do such a thing as that?” “No,” was the answer, “the white chief is greater than them all.”
“Now explain to them,” I said, “that the white men know more witchcraft than their own sorcerers, but they do not practise it, as it is an evil thing. I am going to make things uncommonly hot for the sorcerers in this district: the first one I catch, I will show to you what a feeble thing he is; for I will smell at a glass of clear water and then make him smell it, and he will jump into the air and fall as a dead man.” A wonderful effect can be obtained with half a wineglass of strong ammonia, I may remark in passing. “Basilio, tell them I am going to punish them but lightly this time; but if I have to deal with this particular lot again, they will get something to remember. First of all, they will return to the village and remove the corpses to the cemetery; then they will clean up the village thoroughly; after that, they will return here and work in the gardens for a week without pay, and will cool their hot blood by living exclusively upon pumpkins.”
The v.c. then asked permission to make a speech to his people; he had been as much surprised as any one at my performance, but also regarded it as throwing reflected glory upon himself. He pointed out to them, that all this trouble had fallen upon them through neglecting his good advice and defying his authority; perhaps now they would see what a pattern he was for them to follow! He then began to take them individually to task, and to rake up past misdoings on their part that had escaped retribution; but here I cut the worthy constable short, and told him to conclude his remarks while they cleaned the village. I heard afterwards that he stood on a platform in Veipa, and inflicted a two hours’ oration on his unfortunate people. The next day the village constables from a dozen villages came in, to tell me that the people—with the exception of the Veipa villagers—were burying their dead in their houses, but that all the sorcerers had skipped for the bush.