The Solomon Islands and Their Natives

by H. B. Guppy

[425] This species was obtained at Ugi.

Leaving behind the slime and gloom of the swamp, the rising ground is reached, at the base of which the vegetation is of the most luxuriant character, and often have I lingered here in my Rob Roy canoe to admire the luxuriance of plant-growth that surrounded me. For on account of the lowness of the district, it shares the dampness though not the infertility of the swamps below. The soft clayey rock, which is exposed in the banks of the stream, affords a rich and even too productive soil. Nature runs riot and becomes prodigal in her profusion; and thus growth is too often associated with decay to present on all occasions a pleasing picture to the eye. Here the tree-fern, the croton, the wild plantain, and numerous areca palms flourish; but the alpinias, heliconias, and other scitamineous plants form the chief feature of the vegetation on this gently rising ground.

Higher up the stream, tall forest trees rise on each side often enveloped partially by a drapery of runners and climbing plants, their leafy branches spreading over the water. Stout lianas hang in festoons across the stream. Partly hidden amongst the greater vegetation may be seen the fan-palm of the district (Licuala, the “firo” of the natives), and another pretty little palm known as the “sensisi,” Cyrtostachys, together with the handsome foliage of a Plerandra (“fo”) and numerous areca palms. An occasional Dolicholobium (“lowasi”) with white flowers distributes its fragrance around. Ferns abound along the banks, varying in size from the small Trichomanes to the tree-fern, twenty feet in height, and the Angiopteris with its magnificent spreading fronds fifteen feet and more in length. If one leaves the stream for a few minutes at the foot of the hills, a moist, low-lying district is traversed, the home of the scitamineæ and the areca-palms, which latter are distinguished amongst the natives as the “momo,” “niga-solu,” “niga-torulo,” and “au-au.”

Ascending the hill slopes towards the source of the stream, numerous palms rise up on either side. The Caryota (“eala”) with its branches resembling the fronds of a huge adiantum, the handsome “kisu” (probably a species of Drymophloeus) and a tall areca known as the “poamau,” are those which frequently meet the eye. Interspersed among them we notice the lesser areca-palms and the fan-palm before alluded to. On the crest of the hill, at a height of some 200 or 300 feet above the sea, are found tall forest trees, some of them of gigantic size and attaining a height of 150 feet and upwards. Amongst them occur the banyan (“chim”), other ficoid trees with the flange-like buttresses, and the “katari,” a species of Calophyllum which supplies the natives with a resin for their torches. In the following description of the interior of the forest in this region I have referred at some length to the larger trees.

The interior of the forest. . . . To obtain a true idea of the forest-growth in these islands, it is necessary to traverse one of the more level districts in the interior, which is removed from the vicinity of the cultivated patches of the natives. Entering the confines of the forest direct from the full glare of the tropical sun, one experiences a peculiar and often oppressive sensation, which may be attributed to the combined influences of the warmth, the humidity, and the effluvia arising from the decaying vegetation, to the impressive silence that reigns, and to the subdued light or dusky atmosphere that there prevails. Meeting overhead at a height of some 150 feet from the ground, the foliage and the smaller branches of the lofty trees form a dense leafy screen roofing over, as it were, a series of lofty corridors in which the palms and the lesser trees flourish. The gloom that there prevails is rarely lightened by the direct rays of the sun, except here and there through the gap left by the downfall of one of the huge trunks that now lies rotting on the ground. Nor is the silence that reigns often broken, except by the cooing of the fruit-pigeons overhead or by the rushing flight of the hornbill startled from its repose. Here the steady blast of the trade is no longer felt and is only perceptible in the movements of the foliage of the tallest trees. Yet there is little in such a scene that would strike the mind of the merely æsthetic lover of nature. Flowers he rarely sees: they are only to be found where the sunlight can reach them in the partially cleared spaces in the midst of the forest, or on the sides of ravines, or along the coasts. On the other hand, however, he cannot fail to be impressed by the luxuriance and magnificence of the vegetation in this conservatory of Nature.

Under such conditions the palms flourish. The Caryota, the “kisu” palm, numerous areca-palms, with the tree-fern, give the character to the lesser vegetation. Huge climbing stems, such as the “droau,” the “aligesi” (Aleurites?), the “nakia” (Uvaria), the “awi-sulu” (Lyonsia) lie in coils on the ground and rising vertically reach the lower branches of the trees some fifty to a hundred feet overhead. The large purple papilionaceous flowers of the “droau” sometimes strew the ground at the bases of the tallest trees. If the forest be situated on a hill-side, the slope is clothed by Selaginellæ which often display in the midst of their dark-green foliage pretty bleached fronds that form a striking contrast to the prevailing hue. Mosses, small ferns, and fungi, such as the massive expansions of Polyporus and the more delicate plates of Hexagona apiaria and others, conceal in some degree the unsightliness of the decaying log. A drapery of lycopods and of trailing and climbing ferns, such as Trichomanes and Lygonia more or less completely invests the lower portions of the trunks of the larger trees. Seventy or eighty feet overhead the wide-spreading fronds of the birds-nest fern (Asplenium nidus) appear half-suspended in mid-air, as they project from their point of attachment to the tree. Lower down the trunk, the handsome aroid Epipremnum may be observed. Epiphytic orchids form no marked feature in this forest-scene, preferring, as they do, those situations where the direct sunlight can reach them, as at the coast and on the sides of ravines. Terrestrial orchids, however, with inconspicuous and sombre-coloured flowers thrive in the gloom and moisture of the forest.

The larger trees, to which I have not yet referred, often attain a height of 150 feet and over. Here the banyan and more than one species of Canarium including the “ka-i” or Solomon Island Almond tree, together with a Ratonia (“nekale”), a Vitex (“fasala”), the “katari” (Calophyllum) before mentioned, and numerous ficoid trees known to the natives as the “uri,” the “ilimo,” and the “nie,” figure amongst the more conspicuous of the forest trees. Many of them possess at the base of the trunk large buttresses or flanges, which, as in the “tobu,” “ilimo,” “nie,” and “maranato” (Sapotacea?), may rise twelve to fifteen feet up the trunk and extend some twenty feet away along the ground. Some of the ficoid trees throw off at a height of from twenty to thirty feet, large flange-like buttresses, which, on reaching the ground, form natural arches. These lofty trees, as I have already remarked, meet together overhead to form a leafy screen, which, whilst it excludes the direct rays of the sun, admits and confines both the moisture and the heat. This conservatory of nature contains within its own precincts the conditions for its preservation. Here the young tree grows up, its safety ensured, until at length it becomes a pillar in the edifice in which it was itself reared. The open character of the wood and the absence of scrub and undergrowth, more especially on level ground, have often been a cause of surprise to me. I have often walked without impediment through the gloomy corridors of such a forest, brushing past the huge trunks of the tallest trees, and winding in and out amongst the palms that number as many years in age as their giant compeers count decades.

On first treading in such a forest, the visitor is much impressed by the imposing appearance and size of the banyans and the buttress-trees. With mingled feelings of awe and pity he will perceive that between these monarchs of the forest there is waged an unequal struggle, in which the huge buttress-tree always succumbs to the rough embraces of its foe. He will observe all the stages in the struggle. Here the buttress-tree may be seen in its prime, but in part embraced at its lower part by the tightly clasping offshoots of the young banyan. Further on, in the midst of the interlacing columns of the banyan, the buttress-tree may be seen partially strangled. Dry rot has attacked its trunk reaching almost to the core, so that a sheath-knife sinks readily up to the handle in its substance; yet, far overhead the wide-spreading branches of this forest potentate are covered with green foliage, and still wave defiantly in the trade. In the prolonged contest the buttress-tree is dying hard, and in fact it is the stout investing trunks of the banyan that alone hold its victim erect. Near by may be another banyan of larger size and presenting the appearance of a maze of columns which may cover an area thirty to forty feet across. Its victim has long since disappeared, and a hollow in the centre of the maze of stems alone marks the former situation of the huge buttress-tree.

What finer or more impressive simile could be employed to illustrate the gradual degeneration and final downfall of a nation under the choking influences of vice, corruption, luxury, and misgovernment? A mighty forest tree is slowly strangled by the caresses of an insidious creeper. With advancing decay its tottering stem is alone supported by the tightening grasp of its foe. Yet its higher branches retain their vitality to the last; and when the end comes, its ashes add fertility to the soil and vigour to the growth of its destroyer.