“You have broken our custom. When we are building a new club house no one is allowed to touch the thatching till Koloka’s husband has put the first piece in position. I am glad for your sake that the dark days have passed. As it is the village men are all very angry.”
Matareu explained to the village assembled that he had offended in ignorance, but he and his boys had to finish the work themselves. They could get no more help.
This incident not only illustrates the difficulty there is in getting work done in Papua, but shows how a man with the best of intentions may get into trouble with the natives.
CHAPTER VII
A Chapter of Accidents
For the most part a missionary leads a hum-drum life, but at times excitements come in, and are as welcome as the plums in a sailor’s “plum-duff” if not too exciting. Most of these incidents occur in connexion with travelling. In the chapter dealing with visiting our district I shall tell you how we travel, but the experiences described in this chapter are chosen from different journeys, some of them in distant parts of the country.
After four years at Port Moresby I was ordered away so that I might try and get free from the fever. Communication with Australia was not frequent, and the first stage, as far as Thursday Island, was made with Tamate in the Mary, the little boat built by the Mission on Murray Island. Our captain was a character. Formerly a pearl diver, he had been compelled to give up his occupation owing to diver’s paralysis. His qualification for the post was his experience of small boats, and never was a man more sure of himself. Few sailors take ships through the Torres Straits without having an anxious time, and as we sat on the deck in the moonlight Tamate remarked, “Well, cap’n, I hope you are not going to put us on the Portlocks or Eastern Fields”—both dangerous reefs. “No, Mr. Chalmers,” replied the captain, “I know just where we are. We shall see the opening in the Barrier Reef at about nine to-morrow morning, if this wind holds.” With that we went below. It was a tight pack the three of us in the little cabin, but two out of the three were soon sleeping soundly. Later on the third, who is now writing this, heard one of the boys on deck shout “’bout ship,” an unexpected order when we were supposed to be many miles from any land and on a sea rarely visited by vessels. That the reason for the order was a solid one there was no room for doubt, for the next minute crash, and the little Mary trembled all through, and Number Three was shaken from his shelf-like berth right on the top of the little captain. Bump, bump, bump, went the Mary, and as soon as the little hatchway would allow we got on deck, there in the glorious moonlight to have a view of the reef much before the time the captain had promised. We were right on top of it. In a few minutes both rudder and false keel had been wrenched off, and left behind, and after each wave had lifted the little vessel she came down with a crash that threatened to jump the masts out of her. That she did not go to pieces was owing to the good sound work that had been put into her on Murray Island.
Returning from Fishing.