Two Years with the Natives in the Western Pacific

by Felix Speiser

After our return to Port Patterson the launch took me to a plantation from which I ascended the volcano of Venua Lava. Its activity shows principally in sulphur springs, and there are large sulphur deposits, which were worked fifteen years ago by a French company. A large amount of capital had been collected for the purpose, and for a few weeks or months the sulphur was carried down to the shore by natives and exported. Then it was found that the deposits were not inexhaustible, that the employés were not over-conscientious, that the consumption of alcohol was enormous, and finally the whole affair was given up, after large quantities of machinery had been brought out, which I saw rusting away near the shore. In this way numerous enterprises have been started and abandoned of late years, especially in Nouméa. It is probably due to this mining scheme that the natives here have practically disappeared; I found one man who had once carried sulphur from the mine, and he was willing to guide me up the volcano.

There are always clouds hanging round the top of the mountain, and the forest is swampy; but on the old road we advanced quite rapidly, and soon found ourselves on the edge of a plateau, from which two streams fell down in grand cascades, close together, their silver ribbons gleaming brightly in the dark woods. One river was milk-white with sulphur precipitate, the other had red water, probably owing to iron deposits. The water was warm, and grew still warmer the farther up we followed the river. Suddenly we came upon a bare slope, over certain spots of which steam-clouds hung, while penetrating fumes irritated one’s eyes and nose. We had come to the lower margin of the sulphur springs, and the path led directly across the sulphur rocks. Mounting higher, we heard the hissing of steam more distinctly, and soon we were in the midst of numerous hillocks with bright yellow tops, and steam hissing and whistling as it shot out of cracks, to condense in the air into a white cloud. The whole ground seemed furrowed with channels and crevasses, beneath which one heard mysterious noises; one’s step sounded hollow, and at our side ran a dark stream, which carried the hot sulphur water to the shore. Great boulders lay about, some of them so balanced that a slight touch sent them rolling into the depths, where they broke into atoms. Sometimes we were surrounded by a thick cloud, until a breeze carried it away, and we had a clear view over the hot, dark desert, up to the mountain-top. It was uncanny in the midst of those viciously hissing hillocks, and I could not blame my boys for turning green with fear and wishing to go home. But we went on to a place where water boiled in black pools, sometimes quietly, then with a sudden high jump; some of the water was black, some yellowish, and everything around was covered with sulphur as if with hoar-frost.

INTERIOR OF A GAMAL ON GAUA.

We followed the course of a creek whose water was so hot as to scald our feet, and the heat became most oppressive. We were glad to reach the crater, though it was a gloomy and colourless desert, in the midst of which a large grey pool boiled and bubbled. In front was a deep crevice in the crater wall, and a cloud of steam hid whatever was in it; yet we felt as though something frightful must be going on there. Above this gloomy scene stretched a sky of serenest blue, and we had a glimpse of the coast, with its little islands bathing in the sapphire sea.

Next day we left for Gaua. Unhappily the captain met friends, and celebrated with them to such an extent that he was no longer to be relied on, which was all the more unpleasant as the weather was of the dirtiest, and the barometer presaged another cyclone. After two days it cleared up a little; I went ashore at the west point of Gaua, where the launch was to pick me up again two days later, as I meant to visit the interior while the others went to buy coprah. Even now the wind and the swell from the north-west were increasing suspiciously, and after I had spent a rainy night in a village off the shore, I saw the launch race eastward along the coast, evidently trying to make a safe anchorage, with the storm blowing violent squalls and the sea very high.

On my way inland I still found the paths obstructed by fallen trees from the last cyclone, while nearly all the cocoa-nut palms had lost their nuts. And again the storm raged in the forest, and the rain fell in torrents.

I was anxious to buy statues of tree-fern wood; they are frequently to be seen here, standing along a terrace or wall near the gamal, and seem not so much images of ancestors, as signs of rank and wealth. The caste may be recognized by the number of pigs’ jaws carved on the statues. Often the artist first makes a drawing of the statue in red, white and black paint on a board; and these same designs are used as patterns for tattooing, as well as on ear-sticks and other objects. Female statues are common, which is an unusual thing.

I obtained a good number of skulls, which were thrown into the roots of a fig tree, where I was allowed to pick them up as I pleased.

The Suque is supposed to have originated here; and here certainly it has produced its greatest monuments, large altar-like walls, dams and ramparts. The gamals, too, are always on a foundation of masonry, and on either side there are high pedestals on which the pigs are sacrificed. Among the stones used for building we often find great boulders hollowed out to the shape of a bowl. No one knows anything about these stones or their purpose; possibly they are relics of an earlier population that has entirely disappeared.