We were now only thirty or forty miles from our destination, and the next afternoon arrived at Ambasi. No white women had ever been there before, and for many days we were visited by parties of natives, all eager to see the strange white ladies. Women carrying their babies astride on their shoulders, old men leading little boys, and married couples, with or without their families, would pay us long visits, wanting to know what a sewing-machine was, to look at our bedrooms, and, above all, to taste our food. The nurse had her hands full soon after she arrived, for the people had great faith in her remedies, and patients presented themselves in shoals for treatment. Her pet patients appeared to be old men, who became frightfully jealous of one another if she appeared to devote more attention to one than another. They would glare fiercely at the patient who was being rubbed or otherwise treated, and were only partly mollified when their own turn came.
During our stay at Ambasi we dispensed with such luxuries as mirrors and sheets, and rolled ourselves in blankets, to sleep contentedly in hammocks slung on the veranda. We could not, however, do without mosquito nets, for without them rest would have been quite impossible. At night we were surrounded by the pale sparks of fireflies, and far below, on the beach, the natives’ flaring torches would flicker for hours as they fished, standing patiently in the sea. In the early morning the sweet notes of a bird would wake us from some lofty tree at the edge of the thick forest close by, behind which rose in majesty the great Owen Stanley range, standing out distinctly in the clear morning air. The highest peak, Mount Albert Edward, over thirteen thousand feet high, had not long before been ascended for the first time by a magistrate and one of the mission staff.
We could not always keep dry under our roof, which allowed the rain to penetrate it in many places. One memorable night I piled nearly all my belongings in a heap covered by a mat, and at last sought shelter from the prevailing showers under the table, which was, I am glad to say, rainproof. But it would not have done to be without rain, for it was our only water supply, the spring on the beach being too brackish to drink.
The Ope, a small river, was only three miles distant, within easy reach of the station by boat or beach. I visited it one Sunday morning, taking with me a village boy who knew a little broken English. It was a glorious walk on the hard yellow sand, for the tide was out, but the return journey was most fatiguing, for the waves had covered the firm portion, and at each step I sank ankle-deep in the yielding sand.
When we reached the Ope no canoes were to be seen, except on the farther bank. We called and beckoned, and after a time a small boy brought one over to us, on which we embarked. There were no paddles, a very slender stick being our only means of propelling it, and we naturally made poor progress. Our little ferry-man, however, was not disconcerted. Kneeling down and putting his right leg overboard he obligingly paddled with that, and most successfully.
It was at the place to which I was going that the launch had once been wrecked, and where, some years before, the Bishop of New Guinea and one of his laymen had spent the night in peril of their lives, after escaping from drowning and from a shark. It was with some anxiety, therefore, that I looked forward to our arrival.
I am bound to say, however, that no one could now accuse the villagers of evil designs on us, for I was presented with a young coconut to drink, and saw nothing amiss in the behaviour of the natives, unless a request to take down my hair can be regarded as such.
A chief had died the week before, and the dead man seemed to have been related to the majority of the people, for many were daubed with light yellow clay, which is their form of mourning. The widow herself was seated on her husband’s grave, which was situated inside the house. There, according to tribal etiquette, she must remain until she had finished making her mourning jacket of netted string trimmed with “Job’s tears.” I was glad the poor thing had something to occupy her mind, for the horror of the situation was increased by the presence of two old crones who, one on each side of her, wailed incessantly.
Burial in the house in more settled parts of Papua has been forbidden by the Government, and where the missions are located graveyards have been set aside and fenced in.
When my work at Ambasi was over the little schooner arrived once more to take us back. It was now the calm season, and our progress was decidedly slow. The little cabin below, where the nurse and I slept, was stuffy in the extreme, and it was delightful to get on deck in the early morning, though I was seldom able to do more than lie there with a bit of sail or a blanket stretched above to keep off the rays of the sun. Then it would become unbearably hot, and I would retreat to the airless cabin once more until the cool of the evening approached. All day long the sails flapped aimlessly and the blocks thudded loudly on the deck, for the breeze was usually too light to help us. Towards evening a wind sprang up, but too late to enable us to make for an anchorage among the reefs in the treacherous half-light. Matters improved as we got farther down the coast, however, and though on the last day we saw a waterspout in the distance we met with no mishaps, and finally reached our journey’s end in safety.