“Trainer keenly eyed them, whilst he made frequent exclamations, such as ‘Well, you want the schooner, I suppose,’ etc. The natives in the canoes were yelling and screaming loudly enough and brandishing their spears with as threatening an aspect as they could make, seemingly with the intention of cowing us. They approached within twenty yards, when the captain ordered the guns at the bow to be pointed fair for the batch of canoes ahead, while he arranged for those approaching the stern. ‘Are you ready, men, fore and aft?’ ‘Ay, ay, sir.’ ‘Let go, then.’ The two carronades discharged their fatal showers of grape, and before the smoke had rightly cleared away they were loaded and again fired amongst the savages. ‘Load again, my lads,’ said the captain. There was scarcely any wind, and the smoke which hung low on the water was a few minutes in clearing away. The screaming of the wounded people was appalling; some canoes were sunk or capsized and numbers of natives were swimming towards the shore. Nevertheless, there were many of them yet that kept their ground and had the reckless daring to make another bold push for the vessel’s side. ‘Fire,’ said the captain again, and another volley of grape flew amongst them. This discharge had not the great effect of the former ones, as the canoes were closer and the contents of the guns had not distance enough to scatter. The savages seemed to comprehend this, and in another moment were clinging to the schooner’s sides endeavouring to board; but the rapid use of muskets and pistols ultimately drove them away in an indescribable confusion, with, I am sorry to say, considerable loss.
“The whole affair was caused by the natural treachery of the natives. The part we played was unavoidable; in fact, our lives were at stake, and there was only one unnecessary shot fired after the final retreat of the natives. The men who had charge of the bow gun loaded it again unperceived by the captain, and before they could be stopped fired it after the savages who were making for the shore. This parting shot was, as they said, to revenge Tom Staples, the seaman who was speared. There was no one on board the schooner hurt during the affray but the carpenter, whose arm was broken by the blow of a heavy club wielded by a huge savage who was endeavouring to board.”
To repeat Mr. Coulter’s words, “The whole affair was caused by the natural treachery of the natives.” As the gentleman was on the spot he of course should know all about it. Still one cannot help suspecting that the captain’s “impatience” had not a little to do with the carnage which ensued. It would be interesting to be informed what were the orders of the impatient captain to the boat’s crew sent ashore to hurry the unwilling natives. Why were they unwilling? Was the firewood piled on the beach already paid for, or did that “really humane man,” the American captain, expect the oft-deluded barbarians to trust to his honour for payment when the cargo was fairly aboard. The first boatful was allowed to depart—the second—then came the third and last. “Where’s the price?” “Price be hanged, you precious lot of niggers! guess the only price you’ll get for this yer freight will be pitched at you from our big guns. Hands off the boat there, and let us shove her off!” This of course is a fancy picture; but there is a possibility that it is not very wide of the mark. If so, the niggers who, after they had seen their comrades mangled and torn by the murderous grape “made another bold push for the ship’s side,” showed themselves brave men, and compels us to reflect with abhorence on the firers of that “one unnecessary shot.”
CHAPTER XXIII.
Figian “fustian”—Figian battle-field tactics—The first rending of the root—Fighting implements of the Figians—Five-bladed swords—Execution of Tahitian Prisoners—The obdurate Cacahoo—Heroism of Nonfaho’s widow—Figian ship-building—Surprising skill of savage boat-builders—Ordinary sea-women—Superstitions of Figian sailors—The warrior of New Zealand—The sacred wind of Tu—Distribution of the locks of the slain—Cooking the warriors’ hearts—Australian weapons—Throwing the boomerang—The Australian spear—Thick and thin heads—Remarkable mode of Duelling.
In Figi the disposition to quarrel and fight is no less rife than in Samoa. A very trifling matter constitutes a casus belli, and their forces are gathered by the taga, a kind of review. Of these there is a series,—one at every place where the army stops on its way to the scene of action. If any part of Figian warfare has interest, it is this, and to the parties engaged it is doubtless glorious. They defy an enemy that is far away, and boast of what they will do on a day which has not yet come, and all this in the midst of their friends. The boasting is distinct from, though associated with, the taga, which means “ready” or “on the move,” namely, for challenging. The challenging is called bole-bole, and the ceremony, when complete, is as follows:—If the head of the party of allies just arrived is a great chief, his approach is hailed with a general shout. Taking the lead, he conducts his followers to a large open space, where the chief to whose help he comes waits with his men. Forthwith, shouts of respect are exchanged by the two companies. Presently a man, who is supposed to represent the enemy, stands forth and cries out, “Cut up! cut up! the temple receives;” intimating probably that the enemy will certainly be cut up, cooked, and offered to the gods. Then follow those who bole or challenge. First comes the leader, and then others, singly at the beginning, but afterwards in companies of six, or ten, or twenty. It is impossible to tell all that is said when many are speaking at once; but there is no lack of bragging, if single challengers may he taken as specimens. One man runs up to the chief, brandishes his club, and exclaims, “Sir, do you know me? Your enemies soon will.” Another, darting forward, says, “See this hatchet! how clean! To-morrow it will be bathed in blood!” One cries out, “This is my club!—the club that never yet was false!” The next, “This army moves to-morrow; then you shall eat dead men till you are surfeited!” A man striking the ground violently with his club, boasts, “I cause the earth to tremble; it is I who meet the enemy to-morrow!” “See,” exclaims another, “I hold a musket and a battle-axe; if the musket miss fire the hatchet will not!” A fine young man stepped quietly towards a king, and, holding a pole used as an anchor for a canoe, says, “See, sire, the anchor of Natewa (the name of the locality threatened); I will do thus with it,” and he breaks the pole across his knee. A man swinging a ponderous club says, “This club is a defence: a shade from the heat of the sun and the cold of the rain.” Glancing at the chief, he adds, “You may come under it.” A fiery youth runs up as though breathless, crying out, “I long to be gone; I am impatient.” One of the same kind says, “Ah! ah! these boasters are deceivers; I only am a true man in the battle; you shall find me so.” These great swelling words are listened to with mingled laughter and applause. Although the speeches of the warriors are marked with great earnestness, there is nothing of the horrifying grimace in which the New Zealander indulges on similar occasions. The fighting men have their bodies covered with black powder; some, however, confine this to the upper part only. An athletic warrior, thus powdered, so as to make his skin wear a velvet-like blackness, has a truly formidable appearance, his eyes and teeth gleaming with very effective whiteness.
Figians, says Williams, make a show of war at the taga, do no mischief, and incur no danger; and this is just what they like. The challenging is their delight; beyond it their ambition does not reach, and glory is without charms.
Notwithstanding the boasts of the braves, the chief will sometimes playfully taunt them, intimating, that from their appearance he should judge them to be better acquainted with spades than clubs, and fitter to use the digging stick than the musket.