outrigger canoes, their appearance and construction—the famous lakatois—how the natives catch their fish; and a few words about fish that climb trees—a trip down the coast, and an unpleasant experience.
if you can imagine a cloudless sky of a deep blue colour, a sea so smooth that not a ripple is visible, and so clear that you can look down into it and see the dark rocks and the sandy bottom and strangely shaped fish swimming idly about amongst bushes of seaweed, which wave and curl with the ebb of the tide; and floating masses of jelly which occasionally double themselves into balls and then become floating masses again. if you can picture all this you will have an idea how clear the waters of the south seas are when the sky is cloudless. the hot sun is overhead, and the still air is full of a sweet fragrance. just above you you will see a frigate bird sailing lazily about, and by the sea shore just a faint ripple and a line of white show {58} you quaint and picturesque canoes—not the ordinary mere dug-out things which are so narrow in body that there is only room for a medium-sized man to sit, but long curiously shaped ones with poles stretching across and extended far out over the side; they are slightly arched, and at the end there is a log which rests in the water and lies parallel to the boat.
these outriggers are queer constructions, but no sea can upset a boat possessing them, and with the light shining full on the bright skins of their half-naked occupants, they look still more eccentric. to see a dozen of these queer craft being swiftly paddled through the water by men with bushy heads and fine massive bodies, and women more nude than dressed, but with their hair cropped close to their skulls, is not a sight to be seen everywhere, and well repays all the thousand little disadvantages that journeying to these parts entails.
there is a safety in an outrigger canoe that one cannot feel in ordinary native boats. there is not the same swift movement that one experiences when skimming through the water rowed by a half-dozen muscular maoris in their light-built canoes, or flying down rapids in a canadian canoe, but in place of it there is the calm repose of absolute security, and at times this latter condition is not to be scorned, especially when every moment you can see the fin of a shark rise out of the water. clumsy looking as these boats are, it is wonderful what complete control the natives have over them, how swiftly they swing them round or skim them between dangerous rocks, and dash over the surf through waves that would swamp and capsize an average lifeboat. these irresponsible creatures paddle on through the worst of waters, laughing at the spray as it breaks over them, and shouting with glee as they mount the great waves, which carry them high and dry on to the shore.
then the stately lakatois with their queer-shaped sails, looking as unlike sails as the body of a boat is unlike a canoe. they resemble an elongated kite with a semicircle cut out of the top, and if you saw one for the first time coming towards you on a dark night, it would give you a fright, so grotesque and weird is it. in daylight, however, its horrors disappear and the ingeniousness of its construction appeals to you; after watching it sailing placidly out to sea, steered as easily as any yacht, a feeling of admiration for the savage inventor of it comes over you.
to explain its construction would be a task too difficult for me, but, roughly, it consists of two or three large canoes lashed together and boarded over. on these boards is a kind of barn cut down and spread out considerably. this is used both for shelter and for carrying the pots and articles of barter. from the centre of this raft-like barge the two enormous sails project straight into the air; the two horn-like points of the top are decorated with long streamers; whilst others ornament the sails, making it look like a carnival barge. how the wind is caught or how the boats are moved about is a mystery to any but those who work them; if you ask a native he will explain it all to you: “he good fellow belong salt water, go easy.” and that is as much information as i can give. so with this vivid, though somewhat technical description of how the boat travels, you too must be satisfied, and look rather at its beauty than its ways of working.
the method of building canoes in these parts is interesting. a log of soft wood is obtained from an up-country tribe in exchange for fish or some other produce, and its outside is shaped by means of an ordinary english axe, while the inside is hewn out with the native stone adzes. these {61} they still prefer for delicate work, though they often attach the head of them to an ordinary axe handle. when a sufficiently deep hollow is made, the native lights a fire in it and works it about until the rough edges are smoothed down and other faults are rectified.
firing is also used to finish the outside, and if the fire goes out, or anything but a perfect result is finally obtained, they put the cause of it down to some accident, or wrong action which they have done in their youth. nearly all their calamities are thus explained.
the small canoes when finished often have the outriggers completely boarded over, thus turning them into big rafts, and making them capable of carrying enormous quantities of barter; for it is by boat they carry their goods from village to village along the coast. the lakatois are always used for long trips, and carry big crews, being often loaded to their full carrying capacity. when leaving port moresby for these periodical trips they carry pottery and exchange it for sago and other food.
the pottery industry flourishes at port moresby, and at most times it is possible to see the women at work. men never assist them in this industry; generally very thin old hags seem to superintend all the most difficult part of the work. the clay used for it is, i believe, a natural clay brought down from the interior and exchanged for some other article. instead of using a pottery wheel, each pot is literally built up from the inside and rounded with a stick or by hand—the sphere getting larger and larger, whilst the inside, towards the top, gets smaller. when finished a fire is lit and stones built up over it, and directly the right heat is obtained, the newly made pot is placed on them and baked.
nearly all the cooking is done in these contrivances, and they seem capable of standing any heat as well as a good deal of rough usage.
sago, yams, bananas, sweet potatoes, cocoa-nuts, and fish are the staple foods which the new guinea natives fatten on. the fish is often smoked and cooked in the earthenware pots or eaten raw. the method of smoking it varies, but generally it is roughly done in a hut.
owing to the extensive coral reefs all round these islands, fishing by means of nets is a difficult task, and one that does not often pay, as they get torn to pieces on the reefs. line fishing suffers from the same disadvantage, so that when a big haul of ground fish is wanted a method introduced by the traders is adopted—fishing with dynamite. this sounds somewhat peculiar, but it is most effective.
directly a shoal of fish is seen a charge of dynamite is exploded in the water, which has a most disastrous effect on the fish, as it stuns all within a tremendous distance of the discharge. boats are then run out, and with the aid of the natives the unconscious fish are picked up and thrown into them.
the papuans thoroughly enjoy the sport, and dive and swim after the floating things with great glee, laughing, and the shouting and splashing as they swim through the water with a fish in their mouth and one in each hand, is tremendous. on reaching the boat they throw them in and are away again as quick as lightning after more.
spearing is another method the natives have, for which purpose they erect platforms in the water. the fisher will stand on this platform with a long spear in his hand attached to which is a long thin cord. holding the spear in the air, ready to throw, he waits like a statue till his eyes catch sight of a big fish in the clear waters beneath. then suddenly you see the spear fly from his hand, and the next minute he is yelling {64} with delight and hauling in a struggling fish at the end of his spear.
the young natives are also fond of shooting fish, and go off in parties armed with bows and arrows, seldom returning without a good bag.
one often hears extraordinary tales of fishermen, and perhaps there is none better than the one told by jerome k. jerome of the plaster cast that every one claimed to have caught, but even this has to take a back seat when you are first told that a man has seen fish climbing trees. but in spite of the apparent tallness of such a yarn it is nevertheless true. in new guinea these piscatorical gymnasts can be seen, and mr. hardy, when visiting tupusuli (one of the most unique marine villages in new guinea, lying a few hours’ sail south of port moresby), had the pleasure of seeing these fish at their exercises.
the trip was an interesting one and worth relating. at the invitation of the rev. dr. brown, whose missionary work in these parts is well known, mr. hardy accompanied him on a trip down the coast to tupusuli. among the doctor’s guests were dr. wyllie who was out there on scientific work, prof. von yost, a german journalist who at certain times claimed direct relationship to {65} bismarck, and a few others who also can verify the following, as they too were among the party. it was a jolly expedition, and the yacht, which belonged to dr. chalmers the head of the missionaries in new guinea, was captained by a raratongan chief who was noted for his enormous strength. the scenery along the coast is wild and broken; here and there little villages backed by palm groves can be seen, and natives running about on the shore add to the beauty of the scene.
tupusuli lies in a little bay, and is protected from intrusion by coral reefs and mud-banks, but the yacht safely man?uvred these, and then the village came in sight. at low tide it looks extremely weird, as some of the huts are built on very high piles a considerable distance from the shore, right out in the mud. the village proper is also completely surrounded by water at high tide; behind it is a row of splendid palms, and a broad street dividing some huts where the men are generally seen canoe-making. as the tide was out when the yacht anchored, the party had to be taken off in the gig and landed on the nearest mud-bank, from which they waded into the village.
on the way they passed a clump of mangroves, partly surrounded by water, and it was here these {66} quaint little fishes were seen climbing up the bark of the mangoes. in appearance they look like a very small mackerel, though the head is rounder and more nobby, and from the breast two little legs, like those of a caterpillar, protrude. the tail and fins are exactly the same as those of other small fish. they seemed very shy, and on the approach of the strangers they scuttled down the trunk and sprang back into a pool of water at the foot of the tree, and nothing would induce them to show up again. here at tupusuli are the ruins of an old dubu house, which looks as if it had been an exceedingly large one.
after examining the canoes and many of the houses the party made their way back to the gig, and as the tide was now in they had not far to walk. on reaching the yacht, however, it was found that the anchor had got jammed, and as the wind was blowing pretty hard and the tide running in, the captain feared that they would go aground on a very nasty reef unless they got away quickly. all hands were brought to bear on the chain, but to their horror they found that their pulling was of no avail; all the time the yacht was swinging round and getting dangerously near the reef. suddenly from the shore a dozen canoes were seen coming out {67} full pelt. the natives had guessed what was wrong and were rowing out to help. soon the water was black with canoes, and the shouts of the natives were almost deafening. at last they were alongside, and one standing in the bow of his boat looked up at our captain. “me fix him, captain, you get anchor all right,” he shouted, and the next instant he had dived head foremost under the yacht. no sooner was he out of sight than another followed, and so on till the water was in a regular foam with diving and swimming natives, there must have been dozens of them, whilst crowds of others hung round in their canoes anxiously watching for their comrades to come up and report progress. as each woolly pate shot out of the water the watchers called out questions, but without answering they dived again—they had only come up for breath—and neither the party nor the natives were able to find out what was wrong. after nearly ten minutes’ work they all came up, and their disappointed faces told the tale. it was no good, the anchor was completely jammed, and in spite of all their efforts these good fellows could do nothing.
to save the yacht from grounding the chain had to be cut, and shortly after that the yacht rode out {68} of the bay clear of the rocks, amid the cheers of the natives.
jamming of anchors in these parts is not an uncommon experience, and to avoid losing them many skippers carry a charge of dynamite about with them, which they slide down the anchor chain at the end of a piece of slack rope. if the charge is timed properly and all goes well, the coral, between which the anchor is fixed, is blown to smithereens. some skippers, however, have had any but pleasant results from this experiment, and have not only lost their anchor but considerably damaged their boats.
