When all is ready it is a wonderful assortment, beating “Mrs. Brown’s Luggage,” and so wonderful that even a Waterloo porter would have his attention arrested, and wonder what it all meant.
Having made our preparations, now where are we going, and how are we going? The where you will find out as we go along, the how is answered by the whale boat, over the launching of which there has been so much shouting. The start is to be made about midnight, and to try not to be late, the crew are invited to a supper, and are kept about the place till it is time to load the boat. A wide margin must be allowed for this, or it will be long after midnight before we get away.
Midnight seems to be a strange time for starting, but it is chosen for reasons which can, like the sermon, be divided into three heads. Firstly: to escape the terrible heat of the sun. Secondly: to allow the strong south-east wind to die down, and make the pulling easier for the boys. Thirdly: to allow of landing at the end of the first stage early in the morning, when the sea is at its calmest.
There will be a big gathering to witness the start, but you must not run away with the idea that the white folks are the centre of interest. The men who form the crew have mothers and fathers and wives, and all have come to see them off, much as though they were going to the other side of the world. Now the start is not so distressing as it was a few years ago, when all the relatives considered it necessary to hug the members of the crew, and howl over them as though they had little hope of ever seeing them again.
As we have no landing-stage the passengers will have to submit to being carried to the boat, and if they have any respect for their clothes they will look out that the men who carry them have on some kind of covering, otherwise they may find themselves smeared with reddish oil. Papuans would never take a first-class certificate as stevedores. The boat is large and has plenty of room for all the cargo, but unfortunately the crew seem to think it necessary to put all the big, awkward things at the stern where the passengers’ legs ought to go, and the locker is always full of high-smelling blankets and small bags belonging to the crew. A certain amount of re-stowing is necessary, and perhaps rearrangement of the boys at the oars, and then we settle down for the remainder of the night. We are bound for the Nara and Kabadi villages, but as we are short of one man in the crew, we call at Geabada. No one lands; but in answer to our “Coo-e,” Avi the teacher appears. We inform him of our need and turning round he soon wakes the village and asks for a volunteer. Many questions have to be answered as to how long we shall be away, where we are going, and who forms the crew, before a man steps into the boat, rubbing his eyes as though they were full of sleepy-dust. As soon as he gets hold of an oar he is all awake, and again we get under way. The night being dark there is nothing to see, and the boys beguile the time by telling of experiences they have had at each point as they pass it. One yarn leads to another, and interesting bits of native history come to light, especially if there happens to be in the boat an older man who was with Lawes or Chalmers on their early journeys.
At last light begins to show behind the Owen Stanley range to our left, and the beauty of the sunrise is often worth the long hours in the boat. We are in good time, so will land and have a morning cup of tea. Water is in the boat, and firewood is all around, so there is not much time lost, and while we are enjoying real “Billy tea” the boys are roasting bananas in the fire. Had we been smart we might have had turtle eggs for breakfast, for natives coming along a few hours later found that our fire was made within a couple of yards of a nest containing a bucketful of eggs.
Nara Dancers.
