Fei are not prized merely because they are old, nor have they any sanctity as the legendary work of gods or ancient heroes. This was proved by an enterprising Irish-American copra trader, who, while living in Uap, carried on for many years a brisk, profitable trade by sending a schooner to The Pelaos with several natives, experts in all the essentials of fei. There the stones were quarried, properly shaped, and the schooner returned with a full cargo of genuine wealth, which was given in exchange for tons of dried coconut and bèche-de-mer.
The exchangeable value of fei seems to depend largely upon the eagerness of buyer and seller at the time of trading. Fatumak gave me, however, the following valuations, which possibly are a little high,—he was intelligent and a dear old fellow, but close-fisted to a degree, and his avaricious soul would no doubt have insisted, when trading, upon the very highest value. A three span fei of good whiteness and shape ought to purchase fifty “baskets” of food—a basket is about eighteen inches long and ten inches deep, and the food is taro roots, husked coconuts, yams, and bananas;—or, it is worth an eighty or a hundred pound pig, or a thousand coconuts, or a pearl shell measuring the length of the hand plus the width of three fingers up the wrist. I exchanged a small, short handled axe for a good white fei, fifty centimetres in diameter. For another fei, a little larger, I gave a fifty pound bag of rice—a somewhat extortionate price, but then the good, close-fisted Fatumak was not on hand to bargain for me. I was told that a well-finished fei, about four feet in diameter, is the price usually paid either to the parents or to the headman of the village as a compensation for the theft of a mispil.
For “small change” the people of Uap use flat pearl-shells, also obtained from The Pelaos. The smaller shells, about five inches in diameter, are always strung on a cord of plaited kaya twine at intervals of about five inches apart, with a cowrie in the middle of each interval; seven shells, thus strung, constitute what is known as a botha-ayar. The shells may be trimmed along the sides, but the thin edge facing the hinge must be always left intact, and a small hole is drilled only through the umbo, or base of the shell, whereby it is strung on the cord. The value of the shells is always computed by their width from the hinge to the opposite thin edge; to mutilate this edge is as depreciatory of its value as the boring of a hole in a coin is in our currency.
Charles Lamb reckons it as one of the choicest blessings to do good in secret and to have it found out in public. From this blessing a philanthropist in Uap is shut off; no alms can there be given in secret; there is there no keeping the left hand from knowing what the right hand doeth; for open, trumpet-tongued proclamation, the ponderous fei and the jangling shells are as efficient as a housetop. Likewise, there can be no pocket-money in Uap,—even granting the pockets.
Next higher in value to the botha-ayar is the single large pearl shell, called yar-nu-betchrek; it, too, may be trimmed at the sides, but the thin outer edge is always left in its natural state, no matter how chipped and ragged. To the hinge of the shells is attached a stiff loop of kaya twine which serves as a handle and also as a means of hanging them up out of harm’s way. Their value is estimated by measuring them on the arm from the finger-tips; a shell having a diameter of about an average hand’s length is worth one entire botha-ayar, every width of a finger beyond this almost doubles the value. Four of them are always placed upon the corpse of a notable man or woman before it is removed to the grave; whereof two are the perquisites of the undertakers, who are always of the slave class; the remaining two are buried with the corpse to pay for food on the journey to Falraman, the Uap heaven.
These shells are never used as ornaments, although they are often exceedingly beautiful and sometimes measure ten or twelve inches in diameter. They are money pure and simple.
Next in value to the yar-nu-betchrek comes the umbul, a sacred mat of banana fibre. A mystery shrouds the umbul; the manufacture of them is a lost art; they are believed to have been made by the primeval ancestors of the present race. As far as I could ascertain, they are about five feet wide (their length I do not know), and woven of extremely fine and soft shreds of banana leaf, with loose ends left sticking out all over them, almost like fur. I never saw one unrolled; they are always kept rolled up and enclosed in a case of matting; the umbul itself is never exposed nor seen. Some day, should a curator of “The Free Museum of Science and Art” in Philadelphia, unroll the umbul which I brought away from Uap, I hope that he will either correct or corroborate my description, which, I admit, is founded only on hearsay.
Umbuls vary somewhat in the diameter of the roll, but very little in the width; when they are used by way of exchange, their value is computed according to its diameter measured in spans of index and thumb, or deh. They are ordinarily valued as equivalent to the largest size of yar-nu-betchrek, or a good white fei, three deh in diameter.
The red shell necklaces, or thauei, might be also enumerated as currency. Their owners, however, rarely, if ever, sell them outright, but, as payment for work or labour done, permit their use for stated periods. This I discovered when trying to buy one, as I have already mentioned. Many men wore them but refused to part with them at any price; they could not; they had merely bought the privilege of pranking themselves up for a while. I did, however, obtain, as I have already said, an excellent thauei through the kindness of old Ronoboi, who paid for it, so he averred, ten botha-ayar, or seventy pearl shells.
Between traders and natives the medium of exchange is the ripe coconut, from which copra is made; they have in general agreed upon a rough standard of values for the articles most commonly in demand; for instance: the price of a large pilot biscuit is three coconuts; a stick of “nigger-head” tobacco, together with a box of Japanese safety matches, is worth six coconuts. The most extravagant deal I heard of was negotiated by that same royal old Ronoboi, who paid twenty thousand coconuts for a cooking stove, “made-in-Germany,” of thin sheet-iron. He was absolutely shut up in measureless content with his bargain, and vowed he was going to make bread in it; doubtless the kind of bread he will bake in it will, if possible, augment his content, but he will be forced either to begin or end with a new set of teeth and a rejuvenated digestion.