Suwarrow and its attendant isles have been planted in cocoanuts by Mr. Henderson. A few pandanus are here and there and more varieties of small weeds than is usual in low islands. There is, also, a great deal of fine, feathery grass, worthless, unfortunately, for feeding animals. Mr. Henderson tried goats upon it, and sheep, also, I believe; they ate the grass greedily but did not thrive, and soon dwindled and died. It was found, on examination, that the grass did not digest but remained in balls in the intestines. The cocoanuts, though most of them were planted eight years ago, do not bear very heavily; Mr. Henderson thinks they were not planted deep enough. He says they should be planted four feet under the soil, the sprouts being about five feet high. Bananas planted in imported earth are growing well, and some have taken kindly to the native soil; also chilli peppers from the high islands. Vi-trees are in full bearing, the hibiscus is gaudy with blossoms, and cotton-plants, not indigenous, but now become wild, flourish luxuriantly.
Suwarrow at some former period must have been a thriving and important settlement. One has the feeling that stirring events have happened here and that its history should be wild and romantic. At present it is very like the desert stronghold of a pirate. The pier is a very fine one and must have cost much money and labour; a number of houses are clustered near it, giving at first sight the impression of a village; there are beacons to guide the mariner and a "lookout" on the opposite side of the island. Turtles are caught occasionally, and large crabs and excellent fish. There are also birds, very good eating, and in the season innumerable eggs of a fine flavour may be gathered. One bird, no larger than a dove, lays an egg as big as a hen's, out of all proportion to her size.
I first walked over to the weather side; here I found it delightfully cool, but the tide was high, forcing me to the shingle, so I returned, marking on the way a fine, clear pool where I mean to have a bath to-morrow. The room where I am writing looks as though it were meant for a church or a schoolhouse; but of course that is only conjecture. It is a large room, long and narrow, with double doors at each side, a single door at one end, and four unglazed windows. The windows are protected by foot-wide slats arranged to move up and down like Venetian blinds; both doors and slats are painted green. The roof, open to the peak, is neatly thatched with either pandanus or cocoanut leaves, I am not sure which. A table, originally very sturdy, but now fallen into the rickets, holds the dead man's books: "Chetwynd Calverly" by W. Harrison Ainsworth, "The Mystery of Orcival," by Gaboriau, and an advertisement book about next of kin. Behind the table is a cotton-gin, the "Magnolia," with a picture of the flower indifferently well done on its front. I sat awhile on one of the two wooden benches that help furnish the room and studied the walls, over which are scrawled names: Etelea, Mitemago, Saviti, Patawe, Polohiu, Atolioinine, Salhisi, Kari, Fuehau, Laku, Mitima, Paopave, Munokoa, and many others.
In another large house of a single room, roofed with corrugated iron, I found all sorts of treasure-trove from vessels that had been wrecked on Suwarrow. Piled up in one end of the house are ship's blocks, oakum, strange, antiquated firearms, iron parts of a ship, and the two stairs of her companionway. There is a single oar, and a tool-chest with rope handles at either end, the word Sweden on it, and the top covered with canvas; an iron gate, two steering-wheels, a winch, a copper blubber dipper green with verdigris, the handle of wood and iron; two life-preservers, one marked Levi Stevens; small, glass-bottomed boxes for searching the bottom of the sea, wheels, hatch-covers, and I know not what. At the other end of the room a ladder leads up to a loft, where sieves for guano, a harpoon, a double-handed saw, and iron shell baskets are heaped together. Two immense iron tanks, painted red, stand at either side of the seaward doors.
Next to this house came the "office," with a little cubby partitioned off one side. I looked through the pigeonholes of the cubby and found a packet of thin sheets of tortoise-shell and a large parcel of a native woman's hair. Mildewed maps hang on the walls, the ceiling is adorned with ten rusty cutlasses, old ledgers lie about, and a bag of cotton lies on the floor as though it had just been dropped there. On one of the sides of the room is a broad, white band with painted black letters "Peerless wrecked on Suwarrow Island." In one corner stands a box of bits of old iron which are put in with cocoanuts when they are planted. It is called "cocoanut manure." This reminds me that the Paumotuans plant with their cocoanuts a rusty nail and a ship's biscuit. In the outer room sixteen decaying muskets are ranged in a rack. Shelves are filled with all sorts of tools, nails, axes, bush knives, tins of sardines and salmon, and a quantity of mouldy shoes in children's sizes only; among the shoes were a toy chest of drawers and a box of moulting feathers.
Passing another building containing miscellaneous wreckage, blue and white china among the rest, I came to the manager's house, a large, wooden-floored structure with a thatched roof. Here I found a native man at work on accounts, his old dog at his feet, which were wrapped up in the Union Jack to keep them warm. This room was evidently designed by a sailor and gave one quite the feeling of being on board ship. Instead of windows there were port-holes, three on either side, with a couple flanking the front door. Covers, painted black to imitate iron, could be screwed over the ports like deadlights on shipboard. The doors, one in either end, opened in two parts, being divided across the middle. The furniture consisted of two bedsteads of native wood with cocoa sennit laced across them to serve for mattresses. A couple of bunches of bananas hung from the roof. Against the wall hung the death certificate of the dead man, which, in such cases, must be the only proof that the death was due to natural causes, and not a crime. I copied the certificate.
Samuli lee aho 2 ....
he motu nai mate he malu va he tau
fro ia gauali 2 1889 Ka Papu
Ko Maro tolu ne ha nie ne tamu
Ka Patiti ma miti San ma
J ketiti ma Paemani Koe tau wine
Kwenia kia mounina kelie iki lagi ke
he tan ban nei kua hobooko kiai a tautala
June ati 2—1890
Next comes "government house," as Louis calls it, neatly thatched, the floors of wood, and separated into two rooms by panelled wood from a wreck; the rooms are connected by a wide, open doorway, the arched top and sides edged with brass. In one room is a table with a Bible and other books lying on it, a home-made sofa covered with a mat; two corner shelves, spread with newspapers cut in points where they hang over, are filled with miscellaneous books; chests, a compass-box, and a water-monkey with its neck gone stand about. On the walls are some rather pretty engravings, a few framed and one glazed. On each side of the house are small, square windows protected by solid wooden shutters that drop down when not upheld by a stick. The front and back doors are strong and divided across the middle. In the back room are two home-made bedsteads, sennit crossed, one with a mosquito curtain. Chests are on the floor, mats lie about, and a roll of fine mats is lashed to the ceiling. In front of the house, the gable end, are two large, rusty, iron boilers such as are used on ships. Inside the compound, which is neatly fenced with whitewashed palings, are two small, mounted cannon with a couple of vi-trees growing beside them. Returning to what I call the church, I passed a tool house, a large room filled with rusting tools. Two small casks of fresh water lie waiting there in case a boat should come ashore in distress for water. There is also an immense cistern sunk in the ground, filled with rain-water caught on the iron roofs, but that, I believe, is kept locked.
View of deserted buildings on Suwarrow Island. The man seated in the centre is Tin Jack