Some Experiences of a New Guinea Resident Magistrate

by C. A. W. Monckton

The next morning, I walked into the storeroom under the house, and the first thing my eyes lighted upon was the gelignite! My very blood froze! “Oia,” I yelled, “come here and be killed!” “What is the matter, sir?” asked he. “I told you to remove that stuff to a safe place, and you have put it here. Do you call this a safe place?” I asked. “You told me, sir, to put it in a safe place; there was nowhere else I could put it last night without it getting wet; and when I asked you where I was to put it, you told me with the double meaning you often use, [i.e. irony] ‘to put it in the sea.’” Oia, poor man, had thought I was being sarcastic at his expense, by way of impressing on his mind the necessity of keeping the stuff extra dry.

The time came for me to go again to Samarai, a quinsy in my throat forcing me to visit the nearest doctor—Vaughan, medical officer at Samarai. Vaughan was not really a fully qualified doctor, but was a man who had been for a length of time in the Indian Medical Service, in which he had gained a considerable amount of experience. He had come to the country as the manager of a company, which he had formed himself in Australia, to exploit the rubber lands of the Musa River, but his company had gone bang, and Sir George Le Hunte had appointed him to act as medical officer at Samarai; this appointment was afterwards much questioned, but really at the time there was no duly qualified man available. Moreton, R.M., was back, and accordingly—as of old—I took up my quarters with him. In gossiping with Vaughan, who, by the way, was a great friend of the Rev. Charles Abel, he told me that the Mission had got hold of some serious outrages perpetrated by miners in Milne Bay, and in which they alleged Symons was concerned. “But Moreton is in entire ignorance of all this,” I said. “Yes, Abel is going to spring it on the Governor, upon his return from Australia,” said Vaughan. “That is a nice Christian performance,” I thought, and then said to Vaughan: “It is probably only some cock-and-bull Mission yarn.” He answered, “It is nothing of the sort, I know the evidence they have got.” “Pooh! Medical officers are like missionaries, hardly competent to know what is evidence and what is assertion or mere rumour.” Vaughan had a warm temper, and I saw that I was working him the right way. “If I had not promised Abel not to say anything definite about the charges, I would soon shatter your self-conceited sufficiency,” he snapped. “All right, don’t get warm, I am going to look at my men,” I replied. “I’ll leave you sitting on your mare’s nest,” and off I went, leaving Vaughan snorting.

I then strolled over to the house Moreton had allotted to my men; they were sitting, chatting and smoking, on the verandah. “I hear,” I said, after a little casual conversation, “that these Samarai boys say, that we, of the North-Eastern Division, are ignorant bushmen ‘with no knowledge,’ that we only come here at rare intervals because the Samarai people are ashamed of our being seen by strangers.” “They shall pay for that,” said my men. “Yes, but how?” I asked; “I can’t let you fight them.” “Can’t you put them in gaol, sir?” asked they. “No, not without first finding out something they have done for which to punish them.” “Perhaps we can find out something about them,” said my men. “You are wise men,” I said, “not fools, as these Samarai people say; that is the thing to do. Now, you keep your mouths shut, put on your smartest uniforms and swagger down the street and buy cigarettes, then go to the ginger-beer shop, buy ginger beer and drink it there. Some of them are bound to notice you, and follow to watch; offer any that do so, cigarettes and ginger beer; then go to the stores and buy sardines, salmon, and sweet biscuits, that will attract more attention; they won’t miss a feed like that, if you give them the slightest encouragement. Get them back here and, as you feed, brag of all your fights and the arrests you have made; they will almost certainly answer by telling you what they have done lately, then keep your ears open and your mouths shut.” “Oh, master, it is good. We go dig a pit for a pig, a deep pit. But what about money?” questioned they. “You put in one shilling each, and here is a sovereign. To-night my orderly will bring me what news he can, to-morrow you will parade near Mr. Moreton’s house, and each man will tell me what he has learnt,” I answered. Then off I went to Moreton’s, where, later, I heard sounds of laughter and revelry coming from my own men’s house, and concluded the pig was in the pit.

Shortly afterwards, my orderly appeared. “Master, we have a fence round the pig and it does not know it.” “Where is the fence?” I asked. “In Milne Bay; some white men and the Samarai boat boys caught some men there and killed many pigs, and the white men killed some people.” “In fight?” I asked. “No, murder. One man was led away into the bush by the white men, with a rope round his hands, and was never seen alive again.” “Was Mr. Symons there?” I inquired. “At the killing, we do not know; at the capture, yes,” he returned, in answer. “Phew!” I whistled, “the Mission have got a bomb for Moreton! This sort of thing twenty miles from his Headquarters, and he in ignorance of it!” Then, to my orderly, “Go back to your house, and tell our men not to let the pig discover the fence.” It was high time now that I sought Moreton. “Did Symons tell you anything about trouble in Milne Bay?” I asked him. “Yes, he said that there had been some gold stealing, but that he had arrested the offenders and all was quiet again,” he replied. “Well, Moreton, there have apparently been some serious outrages there, in which Symons is alleged to be concerned; the Mission have got hold of it and are waiting until his Excellency returns to report direct to him, in order to get you into grave trouble for being in ignorance of the matter,” I told him. “How do you know this?” he asked. “A hint dropped by Vaughan of knowledge possessed by Abel, in the first instance; next, I have had my boys pumping Symons’ boat’s crew, and they confirm it,” I replied.

“It is a bad business,” said Morton, “but I don’t see how I can be held responsible. Symons has had charge of Milne Bay for a considerable time. These things have also occurred during my leave of absence, and while Symons was acting as R.M.” “I see plainly how you will be held responsible,” I said; “Symons was your subordinate, and if you choose to give him entire charge of a district in your Division, you should have occasionally looked in there, to see how things were going; you know perfectly well that the R.M. is the person responsible for anything wrong in the Division, whether his fault or not, and to plead ignorance is the worst excuse you can make. It is clear to me, that you must have lost entire touch with the village constables in Milne Bay, for they are trotting in and out of Samarai every second day, and yet you have heard nothing.” “I have allowed Symons control of the Milne Bay village constables; they report to him and are paid by him,” said Moreton. “What!” I exclaimed, “have you been egregious ass enough deliberately to allow the control of a district of village constables to pass out of your hands, the one service that allows you to keep your hand on the pulse of the district, and informed of what is going on? Moreton, if the crimes have taken place in Milne Bay, that I believe have been committed, then a fairly big scapegoat will be wanted by the Governor, and you will about fill the bill.” “Symons had charge of Milne Bay with the Governor’s consent and approval, and Symons did not like to be interfered with there,” said Moreton. “The fact remains that Symons was an officer subordinate to you, he had not joint control with you, he had control subject to your approval of his management of the district; anything he has done there, unless expressly disapproved of by you, can only be held as done with your approval,” I replied. “Symons reports direct to Port Moresby,” said Moreton. “Don’t you ever read his reports, or the copies?” I asked. “No,” said Moreton. “Then you are in the soup up to your neck,” I remarked; “for, on your own showing, you have entirely neglected and ignored one portion of your Division, and that portion a district right under your nose.” “What am I to do now?” said Moreton. “A little advice would be better than a scolding.” “Do!” I said; “investigate at once, and if there is anything in the charges, take immediate action against all concerned; you will then have shown that you are alive to what is going on in your Division, and that you are doing your duty.” “Will you see Vaughan and the Mission, and first find out for me what they know?” he asked. “Yes, I will do it at once, though it is not my affair,” I replied.

Off to Vaughan I then went. “Doctor, I have been talking over what you told me yesterday about Milne Bay with Moreton; he has decided to make immediate and full inquiry, and has asked me to ascertain what direct charges the Mission is prepared to bring against any person or persons. Can you arrange that I see the Rev. Charles Abel in the matter?” Vaughan arranged it, and I saw Abel, who, after some demur, gave me a list of alleged murders and outrages in Milne Bay, committed by three miners attached to a Government party commanded by Symons. I took the list to Moreton; and then, at his request, went to Milne Bay, where I obtained sufficient evidence to show that one miner had deliberately shot an unarmed native, and that another had shot a woman: there was also evidence to the effect that a man arrested by Symons’ boat’s crew had been handed over to the miners and led away into the bush, after which he had never been seen alive again, though there was no evidence of his death, other than that the natives had found a body too far gone to identify. There were a lot of other charges, in which the evidence was not clear. “What is to be done now?” asked Moreton. “Arrest the miners, charge them with murder, suspend Symons from magisterial duties, and leave at once for Port Moresby to consult with Sir Francis Winter,” was my advice.

On the top of everything else, there was a village constable missing, named Lailai; he had been appointed by Symons some nine months previously. Symons, by the way, had no authority to appoint village constables; this could only be done by the Governor, or by the Resident Magistrate by delegated authority. Lailai belonged to a village named Daiogi, one of a group burned by the miners accompanying Symons’ party. The following, an extract taken from my notes at the time, is the sort of evidence I elicited:—

“Lulubeiai, of the village of Daiogi, says, ‘I am the only child and daughter of Lailai. Lailai is dead. I know he is dead though I have not seen the body. He was a village constable. He went one day to the camp of the white men; he never came back. Gamadaudau, of my village, told me that he had seen my father tied up and beaten by the white man, Steve Wolff. My village is burnt and my people scattered. I know no more.’ Gamadaudau says, ‘I am a native labourer in the employ of Robert Lindsay, a miner, and I knew Constable Lailai. He came to the white men’s camp, and was tied up and beaten by Wolff and Morley, and his uniform was taken away by Wolff. Lailai was thrice flogged during the day by Wolff, and was left tied up to a tree for two or three nights; he was then led away by Wolff, Lindsay, and two other white men whom I do not know. He was tied up with ropes, but in such a fashion that he could walk. What happened after that I do not know.’ Two months later a native of Buhutu found the skull and some portion of a human skeleton in the bush, and from the fact that Lailai was the only man dead and not accounted for, and from the fact that near the remains were a pair of arm rings such as Lailai was in the habit of wearing, he came to the conclusion that he had found Lailai’s body, and so informed his fellow villagers. Then this. Charles Ward, miner, sworn. ‘I remember going with Mr. Symons to Wolff’s house, Wolff gave Mr. Symons Lailai’s uniform. Mr. Symons asked where he had got them. Wolff said he had found them in a deserted house.’”

This case afterwards broke down in the Central Court, for though Moreton and I conclusively proved that Lailai was missing, the evidence of his death was not strong enough; and even if we could establish that, then the only thing that we could prove was, that he had been maltreated by the miners, but not that they had murdered him. I had listened to the dead Lailai’s daughter, and seen her grief at losing her only relation; and I swore that, even if Wolff escaped on technical grounds on the first charge, he should not on a second, if effort on my part could prevent it. There was a second charge. Wolff had shot a man, who was running away, and a native with Wolff had seen the shot fired, and knew the running man well, while others with him had seen the killing, but could not swear to the identity of the dead man. The dead man’s relations, however, were able to identify his body. In this case there was no possible weak link. I arrested, upon Moreton’s warrant, Lindsay and Morley in Samarai; they were on their way to a new gold rush at Cloudy Bay, whither Wolff had already gone.

There was now no doubt that very grave offences had taken place in Milne Bay; and that if Symons had not condoned them, he had at all events shown a lamentable ignorance of such things as a missing village constable, a shot woman, and sundry other strange events, such as the always strictly forbidden burning of villages; and all these things had taken place in a locality in which a village constable’s truncheon was the only force likely to be required.