The Story of Chalmers of New Guinea

by Janet Harvey Kelman

One day all the chiefs that could be brought together from the tribes near, met on board the war-ship Nelson in the bay outside of Port Moresby. They feasted there together, and then returned to the village. But the doings of the day were not over. Two of the big guns began to fire, and the natives danced with surprise. When darkness fell, search-lights gleamed and glanced round the bay. They fell on the far-off mountains and on the palm groves, and lighted up each creek and cranny on the shore. They fell on the quaint houses of Port Moresby, and on the dark faces of the startled natives. Then came the shriek of the syren. It leapt about like an uncanny thing, and seemed to come now from the plashing waves and now from the depths of the forest. Dogs and men fled alike from the noise of it into the darkest corners of their homes. Then the quiet of night fell on the village and on the “Beritani war-canoes.”

Next morning the officers of H.M.S. Nelson landed and marched to Mr. Lawes’ house. Hundreds of black eyes watched them, and hundreds of ears listened with delight to the music of the band.

The Union Jack was hoisted close to the house. After that Commodore Erskine read a paper, which told what Britain would do for New Guinea, and what she wished New Guinea to do for her.

The chiefs did not know what the Commodore read, but Mr. Lawes said it all over to them in their own language.

Though Commodore Erskine was there in order to tell the men of New Guinea what Britain wished, he could not be long with Mr. Chalmers and Mr. Lawes without caring about their work too.

One afternoon, when his ship was in the bay, he came ashore to see the school. The village bell began to ring. It did not hang in a church tower, nor over the door of the school, but from the branch of a tree. One hundred and twenty boys and girls pattered into a long cool room. The walls and roof were made of plaited palm leaves, and the air could get in while the hot sunshine had to stay outside. The children answered many questions. They knew where their own home lay on the map, and they thought of other places as near it, or far from it, for New Guinea was the centre of the world to them.

They sang “Auld Lang Syne,” and “God Save the Queen,” and afterwards they bowed their heads, and said, “Our Father which art in heaven.” They did not say it in words that Commodore Erskine knew, but with reverence and trust which are the same all over the world.

The Commodore would have liked to give the children sweets and chocolates, but he gave them something that they liked much better. Each of them bounded away with a string of beads, a bit of tobacco, and a fish-hook!

At many other villages in New Guinea the people were told why the “Beritani war-canoes” had come to their shores, and why the Union Jack was hoisted.

At one place there was great joy because one of the war-ships brought back seventeen men who had been tempted away by traders. One was a chief, an older man than most of those who had gone. He sat gazing from the ship while a canoe came from the shore. The two men in it climbed up into the ship. Then there was a rush and a cry, and the three natives were together. One of the men in the boat was the brother of the old chief. He had thought he would never see him again, and now they were together, weeping and rubbing noses, which was their way of kissing.