Some Experiences of a New Guinea Resident Magistrate

by C. A. W. Monckton

The Maisina, from a state of utter collapse, had now ascended to the highest pinnacle of jubilation; loud were their crows and great their boasting. “The hitherto undefeated Doriri had met a force comprising Maisina, and had retired before it with loss, and were now in full retreat!” They made no allowance in their savage brains for the fact that the unfortunate Doriri had encountered, for the first time, a strange, powerful, and terrifying weapon in the shape of our rifles—things which flashed fire, accompanied by a terrible noise, and dealt death by invisible means at great distances. “I have never known such damnable rotters as the Maisina,” said Barton, “they are howling and paralysed with funk one minute, and gloating over a few dead Doriri the next. They are like a costermonger rejoicing at a victory over his wife or mother, gained by dint of kicking her in the ribs.”

We now prepared to cross the river in pursuit of the retreating Doriri: rafting was out of the question, as the river was eighty yards wide, ran shoulder high, and was as swift as a mill-race. The first thing to do was to place a piquet on the opposite bank to cover our crossing; accordingly, some of the strongest swimmers amongst the constabulary waded and swam across, with their rifles strapped on their shoulders and cartridges tied on the tops of their heads, while they were covered by watching men on our bank. Having crossed, they yelled that there was a shallow bank in the middle of the river, affording secure foothold; this information was a great relief to us, as our cotton rope was not long enough to stretch across the full river, and our lighter men (including Barton and myself) were not strong enough to wade without its assistance. On that shoal, therefore, we stationed some strong men, who held the end of our rope; then we all crossed safely on to it, and there clung together, until the constabulary, after repeated attempts, succeeded in carrying the rope over the remainder of the river, where they tied it to a tree. We then left our strongest men to hold on to the mid-river end, and struggled across, with the loss only of a few bags of rice; after which we hauled the rest of the men across, they clinging to the end of the rope. Thus our crossing was accomplished.

Following the track of the retreating natives, we came to the Domara River, where the Doriri foot-tracks dispersed in various directions. The Domara had a fine wide sandy beach, admirable country to fight in from our point of view. The prisoners now told us that Domara village was close at hand, and there accordingly we went, only to find it freshly deserted. It was a village containing, I should estimate, about 180 to 200 men; it was circular in shape, and surrounded by a moat, partly natural and partly artificial, ranging from fifteen to twenty feet in width, and about ten feet in depth, and clean and well kept. The houses were elevated on poles of from twenty to thirty feet high; the poles were merely props, as the main weight of the house was sustained by stout tree trunks, forming a central king post; sometimes additional support was given by pieces of timber fastened to live areca-nut palms. The village was certainly an example of high barbaric engineering skill; moated as it was, and with its high and easily defended houses, a very few of its male inhabitants would be necessary for its defence against any force armed only with spear and club. Hence it was easily seen how the Doriri were enabled to keep so many men absent in Collingwood Bay for so long a period. Some small gardens near were remorselessly stripped to furnish the carriers with their evening meal, and every village pig and dog was slaughtered; many spears and arms were also found and burnt, the Maisina taking keen delight in cooking Doriri pig over a fire made of Doriri spears. We remained two days in this village, while patrols of police went out and endeavoured again to get in touch with, or capture, Doriri; and the carriers plundered and destroyed gardens to their hearts’ content and Barton’s grief. The Doriri, however, had apparently had a bellyful of the awesome, magic fire-spear, and had departed from their villages for the hills. We found in the village, of all extraordinary articles, the brass chain plate of a small vessel, now ground into an axe head.

Now evidently had come the time for departure: the Doriri had learnt that there was a power stronger than themselves, and a power, too, that could make itself unpleasantly evident. The most essential thing to do was to convey a message to them, telling them to abstain from raiding Collingwood Bay in the future, if they did not wish again to incur the anger of that power. This we were shortly able to do. We then left on our return journey, though by a different route.

Leaving Domara village we marched, for about five miles, through jungle interspersed at intervals with small, old, and new gardens; but nowhere did our scouts get into touch with the natives, until we came to the Adaua again, near its confluence with the Domara. The river, at this point, was about one hundred yards wide and in flood, quite unfordable, and far too dangerous for rafts, as the cataracts and rapids of the Musa, passing through the Didina Range, were but a short distance below. The Doriri use a small, triangular raft made of bamboo, and are much skilled in its use; our men, however, were quite unable to manage the contrivance, it requiring as much knack as a coracle. Ilimo village, to which one of our prisoners belonged, was situated on a spur on the opposite bank; and from thence we could hear the voices of natives calling to one another as they watched our party. The scouts reported a small village lower down the river, and upon the same bank, which our prisoners told us was called Bare Bare; so there we went for the night, or until the river went down sufficiently to permit of our passage across. Bare Bare village was deserted, and apparently had been so for some weeks; it was approached by narrow winding tracts leading through a dense tall jungle of wild sugar-canes, which were well sprinkled with spear pits. We cut a wide straight lane through the jungle to the river, in order that our people might go and come with water in safety. The scouts found near here a new and much better ford than the one we had seen in the morning, and which our lying prisoners had said was the only one.

Doriri yelled, howled, and blew horns on the opposite bank most of the night, but did not venture to cross or interfere with us. In the morning the scouts reported that the passage of the river was possible at the new ford, so there we went. As we prepared to cross, eight Doriri appeared on the opposite bank, in full war array, dancing, yelling, turning and smacking their sterns at us. An ominous sound of opening breech blocks spoke plainly of the opinion the constabulary had formed of what would occur before we passed the ford. “We must clear that bank of natives and place a guard there, before the carriers attempt the river,” I said to Barton; “there are only eight men in sight, but the scrub may swarm with them, and if a man were swept off his feet by the current and carried down the river, he would most certainly be speared before help could reach him.” Barton agreed, and I ordered the six strongest of the constabulary and a corporal to cross the river and guard the landing point. The men started across, and had got within about fifty yards of the dancing, yelling natives, who still defiantly remained there, when I yelled to them: “Corporal, shoot those men!” The corporal halted his men, and, shoulder high as they were in the fast-flowing water, fell them into line; then slowly and deliberately, as if parading at the butts, he put them through the movements of firing exercise. “At one hundred yards with ball cartridge, load!” came his voice; “ready!” “My God!” said Barton, “it is like witnessing an execution!” and covered his face with his hands. “Present!” came the corporal’s voice again; “fire!” One man leapt into the air and rolled over, some of the others jumped as though stung; then they picked up the fallen man and bolted into the scrub, while the constabulary occupied the spot just vacated by them. “It is early in the morning,” said Barton, “but I am going to have a little whisky after that.”

All that day and the next we spent in crossing some very steep country in the Didina Range, in pouring rain, having awful difficulty in starting fires with which to cook our food, as all the dead wood was sodden with water. My personal servant, Toku, son of Giwi, at last, however, found a species of tree, of which he had heard from his father, that burnt readily even in its green state; after this we always carried a supply of this tree with us, with which to start the other wood. Getting fires lighted in rain on the mountains is not the least of the minor discomforts of inland work in New Guinea, and without fires one’s carriers are foodless, cold, and miserable. On future expeditions, from the experience I gained on this one, I always made my carriers make their carrying poles of a light, dry, highly inflammable wood, and when the worst came to the worst, took their poles to start the fires with, and made them cut fresh green ones for use until we could again get light dry poles.

Scrub itch and leeches made things very interesting for us in the Didina hills. The former is a tiny little insect, almost invisible to the naked eye, that falls in myriads like a shower from certain shrubs, and promptly burrows under one’s skin; it is not until one is warm under the blankets at night, that it gets its fine work in and renders sleep impossible, until one collapses from exhaustion. Stinging trees are another joy; they are harmless-looking shrubs with a pretty glossy leaf, that sting one more than the worst of nettles; one of my carriers, on the second Doriri expedition, fell over a bank into a clump of the infernal things, and was in such agony that I had to put him in irons to prevent him from destroying himself, while we greased him all over with warm rifle oil. Leeches don’t need any describing, only cursing, which they got very freely indeed from our bare-legged police and carriers, as they beguiled their leisure moments scraping festoons of the brutes off their legs; they wriggled through one’s putties and breeches in a marvellous manner, and rare indeed was the night when we did not find half a dozen gorged brutes somewhere in our clothing, and knew that one would later develop a like number of nasty little ulcers.

After crossing the Didina Range, we dropped down to a clear stream, the Dudura, upon which was situated a village of the same name; the inhabitants fled, but the constabulary succeeded in catching one man and his wife. The Collingwood Bay carriers knew of the village, both by name and reputation, and swore it was one of the worst offenders in raiding them. I put a very unfair direct question to the man. “Do you go to Maisina to kill people?” “Yes,” he naïvely answered, “of course I do,” as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “I am very sorry,” I told him, “but Government disapproves of the promiscuous killing of people, and you must come with me until you have learnt better.” The man’s wife was then told that we were taking him away in order to complete his education, but that later he would be safely returned to her. “You are a set of murdering thieves,” she said. (She was, I may remark, a strong-minded woman!) “I have not killed the Maisina, but you have looted my house.” “Point out any man of ours, by whom you have been robbed,” was the reply, as we ordered the whole expedition to fall into line. Unerringly she picked out several of the Kaili Kaili, incorrigible looters, and abused them vehemently, the while they reluctantly made restitution. Her confidence was then gained by a present of trade goods, to maintain her during the enforced absence of her husband, and as payment for conveying from us to the Doriri a full explanation as to the reason of our visit and hostility to them: she was a most talkative dame, and I doubt not held forth at length to the Doriri. Her husband seemed to regard the prospect of a sojourn in gaol as rather a relief from the company of his very masterful wife.

When we were leaving Dudura, Barton put in a plea for the natives. “Monckton,” he said, “let us now avoid any conflict with the natives; the poor devils did not know what they were doing in the past, they have now had their warning, and I can no longer stand seeing you use your police against them, coldly and mechanically, as if they were a guillotine.” “All right, Barton,” I replied, “the rôle of executioner does not appeal to me any more than it does to you, but it is sometimes a necessary one; still, I will defer to your views, and spare the people if possible. I only trust that the lesson we have already read them has been sufficiently severe.” Afterwards I had cause to repent my moderation, as the Doriri mistook our clemency, as savages invariably do, for a sign of weakness, and went on the raid again.