1. The Land

The main island of the Bismarck Archipelago is unquestionably the island of New Britain. From its northernmost point, Cape Stephens, it stretches first in a southerly direction about 100 kilometres to the isthmus that joins this northern part, the Gazelle Peninsula, to the main island. Then the land extends about 200 kilometres to the southwest to a second constriction between Jacquinot Bay to the south and Commodore Bay to the north. From there the rest of the island runs mainly westward, a distance of about 270 kilometres, the broad Willaumez Peninsula jutting out towards the north. The total length of the island is about 560 kilometres. The breadth is quite variable; from Cape Lambert in the north-west as far as Cape Gazelle in the north-east the breadth is about 90 kilometres, while the isthmus that joins the peninsula to the main island would not be much more than 20 kilometres. The greatest breadth of the island occurs between the northernmost point of Willaumez Peninsula and South Cape, approximately 145 kilometres; a narrower part is found further on, between Jacquinot Bay and the north coast, about 50 kilometres. The surface area of the island and the small neighbouring groups is approximately 34,000 square kilometres; that is, about as much as the Grand Duchy of Baden and the Kingdom of Württemburg put together. The preceding measurements make no claim to absolute accuracy. A precise survey of the island was undertaken by the Imperial Navy a few years ago, and at the conclusion other values were most probably provided, since the earlier measurements and cartographical representations which form the basis of the values given here are admittedly very superficial and imperfect.

As far as we know, two main geological formations appear to predominate in the island’s structure, namely volcanic lava and coral formations; the latter raised high above sea level by the strength of the volcanic activity. Volcanic action continues today, although compared with earlier times it has undoubtedly declined significantly. Along the entire line from Cape Gloucester in the west to Cape Stephens in the north-west, there stretches a number of active volcanoes arranged in groups, and numerous extinct craters bear witness to the strength of the subterranean fire. Earthquakes are not infrequent today, although they cause less trouble; they are, however, still strong enough to arouse feelings of anxiety at their onset, and to be a reminder that one day they could bring about an unexpected, calamitous catastrophe, against which people are powerless. Several of the earthquakes that I have experienced during my many years’ stay in the archipelago would have been, in spite of their short duration, strong enough to devastate a European town thoroughly; the solid stone buildings at home would have collapsed inwards, while out here the natives’ huts and the settlers’ houses built of wood indeed creak and groan in truly every joint, and thus shake so severely that standing upright actually becomes extremely difficult, yet because of their style of construction, they do not collapse.

The most well-known area up to now is the northern part of the island, the Gazelle Peninsula; that is, we know fairly thoroughly only the region lying east, north and north-west from Vunakokor (Varzinberg). In recent years the high mountain range forming the western edge of the peninsula, usually called the Baining Mountains, is starting to become better known to us, thanks to the Catholic mission that has been established there. Beyond Vunakokor the area really is still completely unexplored, and for the remainder of the island our total knowledge shrinks to the coastal strip and the offshore islands, and here too we must regretfully concede that our knowledge is only sketchy.

However, every excursion, no matter how small, into these unknown regions, steadily brings us new and unexpected discoveries and experiences. For later travellers and explorers there will still remain much to do, and a series of interesting surprises certainly lies ahead of them. Over the years the basic survey of the island by the Imperial Navy will also bring us much information about the inhabitants. 2

As the mail steamer from Australia approaches the coast of New Britain, the eye picks up, chiefly far to the north-west and west, hazy blue mountains whose peaks are frequently covered in thick cloud. Gradually the outlines become sharper; the high Cape Orford with the mountain range behind stands out clearly, and also to the north-east the outlines of high mountains stand out against the skyline – the highlands of southern New Ireland. Soon St George’s Channel is clearly marked by the high land of New Britain in the west and New Ireland to the east. The direction of this inlet, roughly 35 kilometres wide at the middle, is approximately along a north-south line. On pre-1890 charts navigators were warned of unknown dangers there; we have known for a very long time now that the navigable waters of St George’s Channel are deep and without any hindrance to navigation, although from time to time, depending on the prevailing wind, a strong current sets through the strait, alternating between northerly and southerly, against which sailing ships are almost powerless.

The east coast of the Gazelle Peninsula presents itself to the beholder from St George’s Channel as a high, mountainous land. The isthmus that forms the connection with the main island is significantly lower; it is formed from raised coral limestone. The same formation predominates on the east coast of the main island, with outcrops of volcanic rock inland. The mountains in the south of the peninsula are wooded throughout, rounded in form, with not very steep slopes, so that they seem well suited for establishing plantations. Numerous streams, large and small, furrow through the valleys, several of which cut deeply into the land. Into the small, Henry Reid Bay in the south of the peninsula flows quite a large stream, navigable by boats for a fair distance upstream from the mouth. The sea depth increases rapidly off the beach, and good anchorages are not available here. Henry Reid Bay is an exception, but even it offers a secure mooring only during a north-west wind.

As soon as Cape Palliser is passed, the scenery changes. To begin with, the mountains retreat somewhat and the slopes become more gentle; the uniform dark green of the tropical forest is interrupted by larger or smaller, grassy, pale-green shimmering fields, and the further north we go, the more these fields increase in extent, interrupted by patches of forest and traversed by deep, wooded ravines.

A little north of Cape Palliser lies a small bay, protected by an offshore coral reef with two small islets, and forming a good harbour even if only for small vessels. The natives call the place Mutlar and visit it occasionally to hunt turtles. A little north lies a small, concealed harbour, Rügenhafen (Putput to the natives), that I discovered in 1884 on a boat trip along the coast. The entrance is narrow, so that only one ship at a time can pass through; branches of the mighty forest trees, which extend from both sides over the narrow channel, brush the ship’s sides here and there with their foliage. Yet nowhere in the entrance is the water depth less than 13 metres, and in the basin which opens beyond this pass, a great number of vessels find room to anchor in depths of 11 to 12 metres. Vessels lie absolutely securely here, and since Rügenhafen and Mutlarhafen are the only safe harbours on the eastern side of the Gazelle Peninsula, they are certain to become of no lesser importance over the course of years when the establishment of plantations has opened up the hinterland. At present the shoreline still consists of a thick, tropical forest flora; nothing stirs on the surface of the crystal-clear basin, 3screeching cockatoos greet the visitor, and flocks of pigeons inhabit the treetops. Far and wide, deep, silent, forest tranquillity reigns, for the entire region is uninhabited; from time to time natives come from far away to exploit the abundance of fish in the harbour here.

About 4 kilometres north of Rügenhafen, a broad, deep valley cuts far into the land. Here is the mouth of one of the largest waterways of the peninsula, the Warangoi, which is named Karawat further inland. The fall is steep and the amount of water during the dry period of the year is not significant; in the rainy season it is transformed into a foaming, rushing, mountain torrent which can only be navigated with great difficulty upstream as well as downstream. Years ago, in the company of Bishop Couppé and the surveyor Herr Rocholl, I travelled the river by boat from the mouth to a point just south of Vunakokor. We covered this distance in a four-day journey, not without great exertion. From time to time the boats had to be dragged over shallow sandbanks, then fallen, mighty forest trees barred the way, from bank to bank, forming a barrier over which the pent-up water rushed, foaming and thundering; here and there were open stretches with deeper water so that paddles could be used, but even here we proceeded only slowly and with the utmost effort, for the current was a very strong one. The river ran in a bed that, with many bends, twined itself sometimes between steep banks that jutted out like bastions, and sometimes through reedy lowlands. Here and there mighty trees arched a leafy canopy over the surface of the water, or slender bamboo canes, united into mighty stands, stretched their fine, delicate foliage far over the banks, and between them shone the pale, columnar trunks of the imposing eucalyptus trees (Eucalyptus naudiniana), characteristic of the vegetation of New Britain.

The scenery is quite magnificent, and changes at each of the numerous bends, so that the four days during which we advanced upstream seemed to us to pass rapidly. But even more rapid was the return journey, for the distance that we had covered upstream in four days of hard work, we accomplished downstream in a four-hour journey. In a headlong rush our three boats raced downstream, driven solely by the strong current which was further enhanced by a torrential downpour that caught us unawares at our last camp site. The paddlers sat there helplessly; the entire effort fell on the helmsman, who had to maintain a steady eye and powerful arms to dodge huge boulders or tree stumps and skirt steep rocky banks, in guiding our fragile craft safely downstream during the raging journey. To be sure, every one of us was relieved when the thundering of the breakers proclaimed that the mouth of the Warangoi was nearby and our wild journey was at an end.

At the river mouth the New Guinea Company had set up a sawmill a few years ago, to exploit the abundant stands of timber, especially the valuable stand of eucalyptus.

Onward from the mouth of the Warangoi the landscape creates an increasingly pleasing and agreeable impression. The coconut groves become thicker, in places forming a dense border to the beach, and on the hills their tops project above the forest; extensive cultivated fields reveal the presence of people, whose grass-covered huts peep out of the greenery on the beach, and also on the high plateau and its slopes.

Inland the peak of Vunakokor, or Varzinberg, rises approximately 600 metres above the land, and ascending clouds of smoke, large clearings, as well as other signs, proclaim that population numbers cannot be small.

As we penetrate further northwards into the channel, initially we notice individual treetops looming like small black mounds on the northern horizon; they increase rapidly, and form a seemingly low, continuous wall; soon, however, we distinguish tree trunks and treetops, and then the white sandy beach and the shining foam of the surf on the coral reef; nearer still we recognise individual islands, the islands of the Duke of York group.

We round a low, wooded spur, Cape Gazelle, and there extending before us is a portion of the north coast of the Gazelle Peninsula; in the background the deep Blanche Bay towered over by the mountains of the Mother peninsula. On the right, lie two small islets, the Credner Islands; they are thickly wooded, and rise only a few metres above sea level. As a consequence of their isolated position, they were proposed by the administration as a quarantine station, and one could only with great difficulty find a more suitable site.

In the channel, signs of white settlement are sparse, but from Cape Gazelle onwards they increase rapidly. A few kilometres westward, at the small bay of Kabakaul, brightly shining, corrugated iron-roofed dwellings and warehouses become visible, and around about, extensive clearings and the beginnings of plantations betray the presence of white settlers. A little further on still, the number of buildings grows quickly; from the shore far inland stretch palm plantations; dead straight and at regular intervals, the rows of planted coconut palms march over mountains and through valleys; the virgin forest and grassy plains have long disappeared, and far along the shore, as inland, the eye perceives palm top upon palm top. The stately settlement of the Catholic Mission of the Sacred Heart with a twin-towered chapel and a number of single- and multi-storey large dwellings and school buildings comes next into view. The settlement, which was named Vunapope (foundation or root of the papacy) by the missionaries, is at the same time the seat of the Catholic bishop of the Diocese of New Britain. 45

6A little beyond the mission station, actually bordering it, is the Herbertshöhe plantation of the New Guinea Company with the settlement of the same name, and here also is the seat of the imperial administration. The stately home of the imperial governor, on a dominating hill, towers over a large number of dwellings, offices and warehouses that belong partly to the New Guinea Company and partly to the imperial administration, and following this are the extensive areas of the great Ralum plantation, which stretch along the beach towards Schulze Point, with their various annexes and plantation buildings.

Off Herbertshöhe one almost always finds a larger or smaller assembly of ships; beside stately German warships and the packet boats of Norddeutsche Lloyd, lie larger and smaller vessels belonging to the colony’s merchant and plantation firms, which maintain settlements on the various islands of the archipelago. A suitable harbour is not, however, available, yet the spacious roadstead is fairly protected and offers excellent anchor ground with moderate depth.

If we go ashore, we find broad, well-maintained roads which have been constructed, not without great cost, in part by the imperial administration and in part by the plantation owners. These roads lead inland from Herbertshöhe, and connect the individual plantation stations with their central bases and with one another; however, they also lead out over the plantation region, and year by year the roading system is further improved and extended. The young colony stands in other ways on the path of progress, as is revealed by a stately, two-storey courthouse, spacious hotels, narrow gauge railways, telephone wires, and so on.

Blanche Bay itself begins about 8 kilometres west of Herbertshöhe. It is bounded to the west and south by a high plateau that slopes steeply to the beach; in the north and north-east the boundary is the volcanic peninsula with the three extinct volcanoes North Daughter (Tavanumbattir or Balnatoman), Mother (Kombiu) and South Daughter (Turanguna). At the foot of Mother rise a further two low craters, the more northerly of which is extinct and covered with vegetation right to the floor, while the southern one with its adjacent crater Kaije is still mildly active. The inwardly collapsed crater rim allows a view right inside; in a ditch-like depression in its floor is a ponding of water, and on the sides, rising sulphur vapour has covered the stones here and there with yellow sulphur crystals. Kaije is a smaller crater on the rim of the above-mentioned one, and in 1878 was still in full activity; since then a quiet period has set in, and it is apparently becoming extinct, although in odd places hot sulphur vapour wells up between the lava blocks and the rocks feel hot. When I settled in the Bismarck Archipelago in 1882, one of my first trips was to the peak, or more precisely to the crater rim, of Kaije. At that time, numerous traces of the most recent eruption were still evident. Scorched tree trunks surrounded the foot and the lower half of the mountain, nowhere was there a green stalk visible, the volcano loomed black and barren over its surroundings. Only with the greatest care could one walk on the inner slope of the crater, the intense heat of the rock, and the rising, foulsmelling hydrogen sulphide gas quickly drove the visitor back to the windward crater wall. Today the sides of the mountain are almost entirely covered with vegetation, even the inner walls of the crater are beginning to be covered with pale green, and the rock has already cooled to the extent that one can walk about inside the crater without burning the soles of one’s boots. In the depths the volcanic hearth is still not yet extinguished, as demonstrated among other things by the numerous hot sulphur springs that pour from the foot of the volcano into Blanche Bay. One of these, situated beside the Hernsheim farm, Rabaul, has recently been used successfully for treating rheumatic pains.

From the peak of Mother, approximately 770 metres, which can be reached in a climb of about three hours from the beach, the visitor is offered a vista of incomparable beauty. Within a narrow field of view lie the sides of the mountain with the huge, deep gullies to the north, and with the maze of forested ravines and precipices. The highest peak itself, with the slight depression, the remains of the former crater, is overgrown with rank grass. To the south we peer into the smaller craters described above, and gaze upon the wooded South Daughter, approximately 530 metres tall.

Out of the clear waters of Blanche Bay rises the small, flat island of Matupi, and between the greenery of the coconut palms peep the corrugated iron roofs of the Hernsheim trading settlement. The ships that lie at anchor in the small safe harbour of Matupi look like miniatures. Beyond Matupi opens the broad basin of Blanche Bay with its dark blue water, above which tower two isolated masses of rock which, because of their shape, have been given the name the Beehives. Not far from the opposite shore, in the southern half of the basin, we notice a flat island about as large as the island of Matupi; this is Vulcan Island which in 1878, at the same time as the eruption of Kaije, rose from the depths of the sea, and is today already covered with vegetation. Seen from our vantage point, Blanche Bay gives the overall impression of being an earlier mighty crater, with an opening to the east through which the sea has broken. Around it the shore slopes steeply, in many places almost vertically, to the sea; especially in the southern half of the bay where the sea floor also drops steeply into the 7depths, and consequently no anchor grounds are available here. The shores of the inner, northern part of the bay, Simpson Harbour, are less steep. There is also a lesser depth of water, and because of its spaciousness and sheltered position, as well as on account of the totally safe entrance, this would appear to be suitable as a fleet station, the more so as on its shores extensive flat land is available for the erection of coal depots, buildings and other installations. The Bremen Norddeutsche Lloyd has recently established a large installation here, which will serve as the main base for the company’s steamers travelling in the archipelago.

Wandering further south, the eye then glimpses the broad, high plateau of the northern Gazelle Peninsula from which Vunakokor rises like an isolated cone. This part of the peninsula especially, when seen from our high vantage point, gives the perfect impression of an English park, with green lawns, isolated trees, small and large copses, and extensive woodlands. In the south and west this giant park is enclosed by high, shimmering blue mountains, the Baining Mountains.

Yet the scenic beauties are still not exhausted. If we turn to the east, before us lie both small Credner Islands (Balakuwor and Nanuk), also named the big and the little Pigeon Islands because of the pigeons that occasionally roost there. A little further on we espy the entire Duke of York group in a bird’s eye view; we can clearly distinguish the narrow arms of the sea that separate the individual islands, and wind like irridescent silver strips through the dark portions of land. Away over on the far side of St George’s Channel, like a spectacular backdrop to a magnificent landscape, rise the mighty mountains of New Ireland, to disappear as far to the south as to the north, in the bluish haze.

Once more, the picture changes when we gaze towards the west. The entire north coast of the peninsula lies at our feet with its offshore islands, the most significant of which is the extinct, wildly rugged crater Uatom or Watom (Man Island). Extensive coconut stands stretch from the beach up to the plateau, and between these, rising columns of smoke reveal the presence of dense population. Regular plantation establishment is just developing in this area, and only merchants and missionaries dwell at short distances along the shore. Actual harbours are not available here, and the anchorages, which according to the site offer greater or lesser security, are inferior. The broad bay which cuts into the land further westwards is Weberhafen; adjoining it, a splendid, wooded, well watered plain, running to the south and south-east, extends right behind Vunakokor, bordered in the west and south by the gently rising foothills of the Baining Mountains. This plain is expected in time to become of high economic significance, for the soil is deeper and better here than on the pumice plateau north of Vunakokor, where only coconut palms will be able to be cultivated successfully. The imperial 8administration is also endeavouring to connect this part of the peninsula by a road system with the seat of government in Herbertshöhe and the main landing place of ships there, since Weberhafen too offers no absolute protection.

Beyond the plain the high, rugged Baining Mountains cut off the view.

The preceding description offers only a slight impression of the magnificent view. In the wonderful combination of land and sea I know of only one view that can compare, that from the peak of Vesuvius. However, when the image that is offered to the eye from the crater rim of Vesuvius is compared with a landscape sketched in bold strokes, I would similarly compare the view from the peak of Mother with one of those prize exhibits in which the artist has reproduced each small detail with love and care. This is conveyed by the wonderful transparency of the air: at a distance where objects seen from Vesuvius are already disappearing into indefinite outlines, from Mother in a favourable light we can still perceive very clearly the feathery crowns of the palms on distant heights, or the trunks of forest trees on the steeply sloping mountain sides.

To the west of Weberhafen the Baining Mountains approach the beach ever more closely, and the flat shore margin becomes narrower, finally disappearing completely after the small island of Masava. This islet lies on a coral reef, and with this 9and the coast of the peninsula it forms a small, fairly safe harbour for smaller vessels. Close by lies a second small island called Masikonápuka, today still densely populated. Both islets were, right up until a short time ago, a type of stronghold from which the inhabitants made their raids, especially on the Baining Mountains, partly to capture slaves who were then traded on further to the east, and partly to seize virua; that is, human flesh. These events are now understood to be dying out as a result of the influence of the Catholic mission and the imperial administration.

From both previously mentioned islands onwards, the Baining Mountains come right down to the shore and rapidly rise to a significant height. Fertile valleys, through which foaming brooks flow, lie scattered among the mountains; for example, the valley of the Karo stream with its cascades and waterfalls. Inland about 8 kilometres from the beach the Catholic mission station of St Paul lies as a temporary, forward post, in a charming hollow surrounded by high, forest-crowned mountains.1

The character of the coastline does not change until Cape Lambert (Tongilus), the north-western corner of the Gazelle Peninsula. Before we reach here, however, we pass a group of small, uninhabited islands, the Scilly Islands (Talele). Once past the cape, we notice that the Baining Mountains, falling steeply right to the shore, appear as a coastal range that continues in a south-easterly direction. The mountains, soaring to a height of about 1,500 metres are wooded right up to the peaks. Out of the leafy green, waterfalls shimmer, and fairly full streams pour into the sea. The most significant of these watercourses, the Toriu (Holmes River) runs into the sea about 55 kilometres south-east of Cape Lambert. Here in recent years, the Catholic mission has established a steam sawmill which is at the forefront as quite the furthest advanced outpost of colonisation on the Gazelle Peninsula.

From the mouth of the Toriu onwards, the mountains gradually retreat, and the direction of the range which was, up until now southeasterly, alters and takes a more easterly course. This eastwards-extending range is apparently split from the mountain block in the north-west by a deep valley basin. From the peak of Vunakokor, and from Open Bay, this depression is clearly visible. Our knowledge of this mountainous district, although it lies not even 30 kilometres south of Herbertshöhe, is, however, still totally nonexistent; we do not even know whether the population of this mountain range is identical with the people of the north-western range, or whether one tribe differs significantly from the other.

From Weberhafen on to Cape Lambert and further along the coast from there, the sea voyage is quite dangerous, because of the many offshore coral reefs and sandbanks. However, the excellent annual surveys by HIMS Möwe are eliminating a great proportion of the dangers; however, coastal voyaging here still requires the greatest care and attention. Anchorages are available here and there along the coast, but only one single good harbour offers excellent protection. This is Powell Harbour (Tava na tangir), somewhat north of the isthmus.

10It is deep and spacious, and protected against all winds; in the inner corner flows a quite significant stream which is navigable by boat for a distance inland. The shores of the harbour, however, are swampy and covered with extensive mangrove forest, but with increasing cultivation of the extensive hinterland, this problem too might be overcome.

If I have described the Gazelle Peninsula in some detail in the preceding pages, it is because this part of New Britain is by far the most important on the island; I would even go so far as to say the most important part of the entire Bismarck Archipelago. The Gazelle Peninsula flourishes economically year by year, and will maintain its importance in this direction for many years to come. Through its central position, it is eminently suitable for serving as a starting point for cultural undertakings in other parts of the archipelago, and its harbours form important support bases for sea travel. The significance of the roadstead at Herbertshöhe and the small harbour of Matupi, as well as Simpson Harbour, has been growing for years. Imaginary dangers for shipping, designated on earlier charts of this region, caused navigators to give it a wide berth. Through the Imperial Navy’s reconnoitering, however, it has turned out that the greatest part of the alleged dangers do not exist, and since the archipelago is situated on the direct route between Australia and East Asia, each year more and more ships decide to take this closer route rather than going through the dangerous Torres Strait, full of reefs and other obstacles to shipping. Coal depots on the island of Matupi form an important supply point for steam traffic on this leg. This traffic has risen from year to year, in proportion to the expansion of the colony and with the growth of the young Australian confederation. From the recent population census one may assume that in about 100 years Australia will have a population of around 30 million people. This combined with the enormous traffic with East Asia, which is likewise constantly increasing in significance, must definitely have a beneficial effect on the Bismarck Archipelago. New, easily accessible trading areas for tropical products will be created, and the archipelago, within a few days’ travel of Australia, will be in a position to cover a great part of these requirements.

Today, all this still lies in the distant future, but from one decade to another conditions change for the better. In 1882 traffic with the outside world was limited to the voyages of several small sailing ships, which the resident firms retained for their trading undertakings; from time to time, at long intervals a larger sailing ship also appeared, to ship out the assembled products; warships occasionally called in and were only too happy when they could steam out again. Postal connections with Australia occurred three or four times a year. All of this has already changed. Regularly voyaging saloon steamers of Bremen Lloyd and an Australian line take the mail and freight between the archipelago, Sydney, Singapore, Hong Kong and Japan; settlers and settlements increase, and the import of wares, like the export of 11colonial products, yield higher values year by year.

In spite of this, the German spirit of enterprise which at other times turned eagerly towards all newly opened-up regions of the world, has so far denied the islands of the Bismarck Archipelago the attention that they merit so highly, in spite of all the favourable circumstances. The reason for this is in part the superficial and inaccurate knowledge of the archipelago, which prevails in all circles of German society, and partly the bad experiences that the Berlin New Guinea Company had gone through years ago in Kaiser Wilhelmsland. The Protectorate of the New Guinea Company had almost always been mentioned in conjunction with sad and disheartening news, and even rosecoloured portrayals like those of Dr Finsch and more especially those of Herr Hugo Zöller, were unable to blot out the painful impression induced by the incessant bad news from the protectorate. Since the Bismarck Archipelago was included in the encompassing title, ‘Protectorate of the New Guinea Company’, the evil reputation of the German part of New Guinea had consequently extended to the island region as well, an inference as illogical as it was unfounded, although certainly excusable in view of the superficial knowledge of our most important South Sea colony.

The plantations of the Gazelle Peninsula consist almost exclusively of coconut palms. The long-fibre, silky type of cotton was produced as a by-product years ago and still is to a limited extent today, appearing on the market as Sea Island Cotton; however, since cotton prices have fallen, this secondary cultivation is dying out. In the area where the larger plantations are currently found, on the high plateau stretching southwards from the shore up to Vunakokor, other products would scarcely yield a remunerative profit. The thin layer of humus which covers the pumice layers from earlier volcanic eruptions is insufficient for other cultivation requiring a deep, heavy soil; for example, cocoa and coffee. These have found a soil suitable to them on the eastern and southern slopes and in the valleys of the Baining Mountains, and in the extensive region that stretches from Weberhafen to Vunakokor and beyond. In these regions there await many thousands of hectares of profitable cultivation; stretches just as extensive are accessible for coconut cultivation. Beyond Vunakokor the population is sparse, and one does not run the risk of troubling or restricting the natives in their settlements.

The southern part of New Britain adjacent to the Gazelle Peninsula appears to be of lesser significance, at least as far as our current acquaintance with this region justifies an opinion of it. This part, having the same surface area as the Gazelle Peninsula, to which it is connected by a hilly isthmus, forms roughly a square with sides of 80 kilometres, including Duportail Island on the north-west corner. In the south-west a second constriction links this part of the island with the western part of New Britain. The entire eastern, northern and southern flanks slope steeply to the sea and have no absolutely safe anchorage. In Jacquinot Bay in the south, good anchorage is found during the season of the nor’-westers, whereas the harbour is only partially protected during the period of the south-east wind.

The entire central part of this section consists of a high mountain range which comes right to the shore almost everywhere, showing several flat or gently rising plateaux predominantly in the northeast. The western flank consists of a series of moderately high volcanoes whose three highest peaks are found on the north-west corner: the volcanoes North Son (Golau) about 600 metres high, Father (Ulavun) some 2,000 metres high, and South Son (Bamus) about 1,600 metres high. The offshore island, Duportail (Namisoko or Lolobau), is also volcanic. Golau is extinct; on the other hand Ulavun and Bamus, and one crater on Namisoko are still active. From time to time powerful eruptions occur; their glow is visible at night over a wide area. In 1898 I was able to witness such an eruption quite clearly, south-west of Sandwich Island;2 that is, at a distance of about 210 kilometres from the eruption site. The following year, as a result of an eruption by Ulavun, a broad strip of mud was visible, extending from the peak to beach level; in the lower, wooded zone of the mountain the devastation from this eruption was seen most clearly; here the vegetation had been totally ravaged by the hot mud: barren, dead tree trunks protruded from the already dried-up bed of mud, and in amongst this, huge lumps of rock debris, broken-off tree trunks, and so on, had piled up into insurmountable barriers. In 1896 [sic] no trace of this eruption remained. Further south of Bamus still other craters rise up along the coast, some active, others extinct, but of far smaller size and significance. This series of volcanoes, which takes up the entire western shore of Cape Quass, is separated from the central range by a deep depression which can be clearly observed from Open Bay to the north, and cuts deeply inland to the south-south-west. This depression receives the runoff from the series of volcanoes in the west and from the high mountain chain to the east; its confluence forms a rushing mountain torrent flowing into the so-called Hixon Bay, named Langalanga by the natives.

Of this part of the island too, we still really know very little. Seen from Wide Bay, the land seems to be well-populated from the beach to the mountain range, if we can draw any conclusion on the population size from the number and extent of the cultivations laid out everywhere, and from the rising columns of smoke. The steep plunge to the Langalanga valley in the west seems less populated.

12On the beach flats at the foot of the western side of the series of volcanoes, quite a large number of villages have been established; their inhabitants were, however, decimated by smallpox in 1897.

The northern shore towards Open Bay is named Nakanai by the inhabitants of the north of the Gazelle Peninsula. Years ago there were a few pitiful villages here, but these had disappeared by 1900. The coastline at the foot of the volcano is apparently called Wittau.

The only venture into the interior was undertaken in 1897 by Dr Hahl, Dr Danneil and Father Rascher. These three set out into the hinterland from the then-existing village of Watu on Open Bay, and after an arduous six-hour trek reached a village in the mountains. They were successful in establishing amicable relations with the natives, and, from their accounts and from the ethnographic articles brought back, which are the same as those that I have seen or bartered for on the eastern side, I have come to the conclusion that this population belongs to the same tribe that inhabits the eastern and southern coasts and the high mountain ranges, while the Nakanai and Wittau people belong to another tribe. The mountain inhabitants with whom the above-mentioned gentlemen came into contact were called Paleawe by the Nakanai people.

Economically, it seems that not a lot can be expected from this part of the island. It may be then that the Langalanga valley and the plains at the foot of the volcanoes should be given over to cultivation. In recent years there has been some success in establishing friendly exchanges with the natives of the northern and eastern coasts, with the result that a number of them were recruited as plantation workers. From the dense population there, one might anticipate obtaining a portion of the workers employed on the Gazelle Peninsula plantations in future. The Catholic mission is planning to set up a station there very shortly, and we may then hope to get to know these, in many ways highly interesting people, more closely.

The subsequent part of the island, between Jacquinot and Montague bays in the south and Cape Quass and Commodore Bay in the north, is on average about 50 kilometres wide. Here too the land is mountainous, and only on the northern side are larger, flat and gently rising stretches of outstanding soil condition available, mostly on the shore, enclosed by a border of mangrove trees.

We have now reached the large part of the island stretching to the west, with the Willaumez Peninsula extending northwards. The interior of this significant and interesting stretch of land is as good as totally unknown to us. The coasts have not yet been fully visited, but in the stretches explored thus far, a whole series of harbours have been identified on the southern side; a number of these must be designated as quite superb. On the stretch between the flat Cape Roebuck in the east and South Cape to the west, are, first of all, a number of smaller, sheltered harbours and anchorages, which form outstanding departure points for the cultivation of the stretches of land lying next to them as well as beyond. The latter exhibit overall the features of a gradually rising tableland upon which is based the not very high mountain range inland.

Offshore lie a number of small islands that show a terraced structure almost throughout. They are formed from coral limestone. Similar terraces are also to be observed on the coast of the main island, but these are frequently interrupted by watercourses and valleys, so that they do not appear so clearly here as on the small islands. Much further to the west, on the coast of Kaiser Wilhelmsland, this terrace formation comes into view particularly 13clearly and magnificently. Here, five to nine terraces are arranged one above the other, and these – for example, on Fortification Point – are so sharply pronounced that they might have been laid out by human hand with pick and shovel. While the terraces on Kaiser Wilhelmsland are to a large extent overgrown with grass, in New Britain both the terraces and their steeply sloping walls carry a lush forest vegetation.

Many of the islands are inhabited, and here, as on the coast of the main island, numerous, if not large, settlements are to be found. In the interior a more dense population seems to dwell, but we do not know much about that either.

A little westwards of the so-called South Cape (Cape Balli), north of the two small Ross Islands (Aveleng), lies a splendid harbour with several entrances, which was closely examined years ago by HIMS Möwe and has since then borne the name Möwehafen. It is formed from a series of three terraced islands which skirt the coast in such a way that, between coast and islands with the fringing coral reefs, a large basin is formed, offering ships of all sizes a totally safe anchorage, protected from all winds. Möwehafen is of paramount importance for the south coast of this part of the island: in future it will undoubtedly become the main trading centre for the western part of the island, as Blanche Bay is for the northern part of the island. A stream running into Möwehafen supplies superb drinking water throughout the year.

In 1896 I undertook a small excursion from Möwehafen that led me several kilometres inland. On a somewhat steeply rising path at an altitude of about 75 metres I and my companions came to a tableland, which bore signs of extensive, old, native cultivations. A well-trodden, broad path led inland, and following this we soon encountered great taro patches. The natives working on the cultivations promptly fled hastily into the protecting thickets at the sight of us; however, after several efforts we were able to entice the most stout-hearted out of their concealment. After initial communications had been established, still more natives joined us, until we were surrounded by about twenty of them, apparently the men working in the gardens. They led us to a small compound, comprising two huts, surrounded by a double palisade wall made of tree trunks. They indicated to us that they dwelt partly on the islands in the harbour and partly on the tableland, and after a while we heard drum signals from inland, a sign that there was a settlement there. We did not succeed in reaching it, however, although we followed the path leading there for a time and stumbled upon natives working. The soil was superb throughout, to which the large taro tubers grown in the cultivations bore ample witness. At several places I had a view over the tableland which apparently extended far to left and right, and only at a considerable distance inland was it bordered by high mountains. Möwehafen also therefore seemed to me to be very suitable as a start-off point for establishing agriculture.

The coast bore the same characteristics further to the west.

Between Möwehafen and Cape Merkus (Mulus) assorted good anchorages are available. Also, a number of quite significant watercourses empty here; the Pulié River, which pours into the sea not far from Cape Merkus, is of special importance because, in contrast with the general rule with local rivers, it has no bar beyond its mouth; this yields a water depth of 5 to 6 metres. Inside the mouth the river is 7 to 10 metres deep, and can be navigated for at least 20 kilometres inland by steamers up to 300 tonnes. Even in rainy times the current is insignificant, and the water never seems to overflow its banks. The soil on both sides of the river is superb, and appears to form a river flat, extending far inland.

Herr von Schleinitz, who navigated this river years ago as the first European, says about it: ‘This river, besides the Augusta River (Kaiser Wilhelmsland), is the most significant of all the rivers discovered and explored up till now, and surpasses even the Ottilien River (Ramu) with regard to navigation.’ I agree wholeheartedly with this opinion.

The forest on both banks of the river is certainly dense, but cannot be compared with almost impenetrable virgin forest and its giant trees. Deforestation would incur neither great difficulty nor expense, and the soil must, in my opinion, be suitable for every kind of tropical agriculture. I saw great stretches, that by clearing of the forest could easily be transformed into cocoa plantations. Also, the river flats do not bear the character of an absolute, low-lying area, but are sprinkled with small hills and ranges of hills, which seem eminently suitable for the establishment of settlements. The necessary construction materials could be sawn on the spot using water power without costly outlay, and I would, without exaggeration, designate the bank of this river as the most suitable site for settlement in the entire Bismarck Archipelago.

South-west of Cape Merkus lies a small, inhabited island group, ‘Liebliche Inseln’ on the maps. They are fairly densely covered with palms, and a few years ago the firm of E.E. Forsayth set up a small station here for the purpose of planting, but more especially for establishing friendly relations with the local natives, and persuading them to hire themselves out as plantation labourers. Gradually this undertaking seems on the way to being crowned with success, for natives from Cape Merkus right up to South Cape have gradually lost their fear of white people, and already work in the Ralum plantation of the above-mentioned firm.

From Cape Merkus onwards, the coast is fringed 14with numerous islets, and, between these and the mainland, lies a splendid, protected harbour. Here too the coast offers numerous starting points for setting up cultivation, although the rivers are only of minor significance; for the most part they efficiently drain the system of high volcanic mountains, which start here and climb to imposing heights towards the west. The mountain range nears the coast the further westwards we go, and finally forms moderately wooded bluffs, 30 to 80 metres high.

The western tip of New Britain is surmounted by two high volcanoes, the mountains Below and Hunstein. Both of these volcanoes, the former of which is still active, together with a number of smaller volcanoes (some active, some extinct), form the nucleus of the entire western end of the island. Mount Below falls from its peak to its base in a continuous slope, and has the shape of an almost regular cone. The coast has various small bays which have more or less good anchorages according to the prevailing wind direction; proper harbours are lacking here.

On 18 March 1888, this region was the stage for a destructive natural event. In the early morning of that day, a tidal wave poured onto the shore and spread so rapidly along the coast that shortly after 7 a.m. its presence was felt in the far north of the island, in Blanche Bay on the Gazelle Peninsula. It was driven onto New Britain as far northwards as southwards; the north-running wave reached Blanche Bay first, the one running along the south coast not fully ten minutes later. In the inner corner of Blanche Bay the united waves reached 2 metres high, and for about two hours there was a continuous flooding and receding of the sea; at the western end of New Britain measurement established that the wave had reached 12 metres tall.

It was established later that the tidal wave had been caused by an explosion of volcanic Ritter Island in Dampier Strait.

The wave destroyed a large part of the low-lying coast of the island. Broad stretches were totally devastated; in places the coastline was completely razed and covered with trees tumbled over one another, broken coral limestone, sand and rotting sea creatures for up to a kilometre inland. Numerous native villages were swept away, and a great proportion of the population must have lost their lives through the suddenness of the catastrophe.

Two Europeans, von Below and Hunstein, together with a number of their coloured attendants, also met their deaths in this natural event. They were returning from an inland expedition, and were camping on the beach that morning, awaiting the arrival of the steamer that would take them back to Finschhafen. The steeply rising terrain behind the camp was probably brought down by the tidal wave, and the tumbling masses of earth and rock overwhelmed both the camp and its inhabitants. In spite of the most exhaustive searches the camp site could no longer be found.

From the western end of the island a broad flat stretches along the northern shore as far as the Willaumez Peninsula. The coastline has various deep bays, as well as several quite good harbours and numerous, more or less important rivers. The most significant of these flows into the sea not far from the Willaumez Peninsula, but even today its course is totally unexplored. Off the coast are extensive coral reefs, endangering shipping; several small islands also lie here but are of little significance. Extensive stretches of shoreline could with time 15be opened up for cultivation; yet today there is still not one single white settlement. Of course the rivers are all closed by bars to navigation by larger ships, although smaller vessels may go far upriver.

In several places the mountain range of the interior is of insignificant height, so that the northern and southern shores of the island could be connected by a road network without great difficulty or expense. Such a road system would extend out roughly from the lowlands of the river whose mouth is not far from Cape Merkus on the south side. It could traverse the entire length, across fertile stretches of land. The produce could then be transported to loading sites on the river bank.

Herr von Schleinitz, who explored this coast, incidentally expressed his opinion as follows:

So runs the account of Herr von Schleinitz in 1887 in the Nachrichten aus Kaiser Wilhelms-Land without so much as a single part of it having been adopted, so far, to take advantage of the indications given therein.

The reader will recognise from the above that I attribute the greatest significance to this western part of New Britain. Should the colony, as we might suppose and hope, develop further over the years, the western part of New Britain will rapidly outstrip the northern part, the Gazelle Peninsula – not only in consequence of the greater extent of the fertile stretches of land, but also because of easier access by means of navigable rivers and more secure harbours. Herr von Schleinitz estimated the flat land on the north coast at 4,000 square kilometres. However, by bringing the fertile land on the south coast into consideration as well, we would confidently estimate the total extent as double. The native population, as far as we could discover at present, is not exceedingly dense; in any case it is nowhere near as dense as on the Gazelle Peninsula where the administration is already experiencing difficulty in settling the natives on predetermined sites, so that areas of land surplus to their food requirements can be developed for efficient plantation enterprises by whites. The natives there cultivate mainly taro and to a very limited extent coconut palms. They can therefore be relocated to dwelling sites much more easily than those who grow mainly coconut palms, as on the Gazelle Peninsula, and who are naturally less inclined to give up their ownership of profitable resources and lay out new cultivations that would yield a profit only after a considerable number of years. For natives who cultivate taro it is all the same where their dwellings are moved to, provided they find suitable soil there, and the necessary protection against possible land-grabbing by colonial settlers.

The Willaumez Peninsula, a part of western New Britain connected with the main island to the south by a broad base, stretches northwards, with a north-south length of about 65 kilometres. Up to 1889 maps showed a number of raised volcanic islands here, separated from each other and the main island by broad arms of the sea. Herr von Schleinitz finally pointed out that what had previously been regarded as individual islands were actually high mountains connected by low-lying land. Exploration by HIMS Möwe, as well as expeditions by various private individuals, have recently established the precise shape of the peninsula. From not too far away it appears as if one is faced with an archipelago of volcanoes of varying heights. None of them is active today; however, if we imagine that all of these craters were actually active at one time, this must have been a sight, the like of which may scarcely be found on the rest of the earth’s surface.

On the eastern side of the peninsula the spacious Hannamhafen offers a safer anchorage. The extinct volcanoes form a broad semi-circle around it. In particular, the regular, cone-shaped peaks of the Pyramidenberg, Zweigipfelberg, du Faureberg, Giquelberg, Raoulberg and Willaumezberg rise above their numerous smaller volcanic colleagues. Today idyllic calm pervades; the flanks of the firebelchers have become overgrown with vegetation part-way up to the peaks over the years, but the fact that the subterranean fire is active even today is evident in the north-western corner of Hannamhafen.

On the occasion of a reconnoitre by HIMS Möwe in 1900, in which the author participated, together with Geheimrat Dr Koch, Governor von Bennigsen, and Dr Alex Pflüger from Bonn, white steam clouds were noticed towards evening in the inner corner of the harbour, rising at regular intervals above the treetops. Since general curiosity was aroused, an excursion to the spot was undertaken very early the following morning.

Right on the beach small streams of boiling water bubbled out of the sand, and beyond a narrow sand 16barrier a small swamp of hot mud and water had formed. On skirting this swamp, we reached a wall of piled-up sinter blocks about 10 metres tall, over which we clambered for about ten minutes, forcing our way through the undergrowth and thickets. On emerging from the bush we saw before us, in a basin-like hollow surrounded by forest, a sinter field roughly 250 metres long and 150 metres wide, free of vegetation, from which several geysers hurled their boiling water and their columns of steam into the air. We carefully worked our way forwards over the hot and, in many places, very porous and brittle surface, past bubbling mud pools and hot springs, up to the larger, active geyser situated roughly in the middle of the field. In the interval of approximately two minutes it erupted for about a minute and spouted considerable amounts of water up high. Not far from this larger geyser was a smaller one which gushed water about 1 metre high in the same period.

It was extremely interesting to peer down into the throat of the larger geyser. When the water jet was perceived to have collapsed, one could step right up to the rim of the irregular, broad opening. Water, like steam, disappeared just as suddenly as it had been flung up; in the end there still remained a small film of steam at the bottom of the throat, where boiling water fell foaming and seething over mighty sinter blocks. This lasted for a few seconds, then it suddenly gurgled and roared in the depths, boiling water again broke forth vigorously out of every fissure, steam columns raged up and veiled everything that was going on further inside the throat, and in the middle of the steam cloud rose a water jet about 1.5 metres wide, that soared to about 5 metres and then separated into countless droplets which were hurled as a fountain about 10 metres high.

Beyond these two geysers, further back in the sinter field, lies a third, very large geyser. During our time there, this one sent no column of water skywards, and the intervals between the periods of activity could not be determined. However, there were indications that this geyser is active too, albeit at longer intervals. The sinter cone is very well preserved; we were able to go right to the edge of the throat, where we observed mighty volumes of boiling water bubbling wildly in the depths.

In the field there are also a number of small, hot springs, solfataras and mud volcanoes with masses of boiling, grey mud.

The boiling water thrown up had a strong salt content, with a pronounced acidic taste.

The subterranean hearth must lie very deep, as testified by the forest enclosing the sinter field. Mighty forest trees grew round about, right up to the edge of the field and stretched their green branches far out over it, indicating that soil temperature must be normal here, otherwise all vegetation would have died.

This geyser field is probably the remnant of once greater geyser activity, for round about, on later 17excursions into the virgin forest, we found sinter blocks of all sizes and stages of decomposition at altitudes up to 100 metres, and at one site a type of soil that Dr Pflüger identified as porcelain clay.

Although there are larger low-lying areas between the volcanoes, where cultivation might be very profitable, the peninsula can never be the stage for great undertakings because of its ground formation. Apart from that, the numerous volcanoes in their uneasy quiescence do not create an impression inspiring trust, and one involuntarily asks oneself the question: When will this place be the scene of a terrible catastrophe?

About 80 kilometres north-west of the outermost tip of the Willaumez Peninsula lies a small group of islands, indicated on maps as the Französische Inseln (French Islands). These comprise a northerly group, of which the island of Deslacs or Witu is the largest, the island of Forestier or Mundua the next largest, while about 50 kilometres to the south-west lies the isolated island of Mérite or Unea.

All of the islands consist in part of raised coral formations; however, the greatest part is volcanic rock. On the so-called North Island there are hot springs, and a not inconsiderable geyser, which develops significant activity right on the seashore, separated only by a sinter wall. This, however, does not appear to be regular. Right at the time I was there, the water fountain rose only about 1 metre; however, according to the natives’ comments, the geyser could from time to time hurl a jet of water up to 10 metres high, and from the signs around this seemed not unlikely. Moreover the natives have the boiling water from this bubbling spring at their disposal, using it for cooking their food; it is seen to be surrounded by natives virtually all day long.

The island of Deslacs has two harbours that should not remain unmentioned here. One, Johann Albrecht Hafen, is big and spacious but of little value, because of its considerable depth of water. On the other hand, the second, Peterhafen, although much smaller, is of decided importance for the island group. Both harbours are the remains of former craters, the walls of which have collapsed in places, so that the sea has poured in and filled the crater with water. The small one in particular, the really charming Peterhafen, demonstrates this most clearly. It forms an oblong with steeply falling slopes on the landward side, rising to a height of about 150 metres. To seaward a sand spit juts out, concealing the entire harbour from the sea, so that even ships sailing past close inshore would never suspect such a harbour. In front of this crater harbour an offshore coral reef with a wide, deep entrance forms a good, outer harbour. Peterhafen itself is not very spacious; on the other hand even during the strongest winds it is as calm and still as a millpond. From the high crater rim there is a splendid view over the little basin and the blue tides of the outer harbour, bordered with a white crown of foaming breakers that roll over the coral reef.

The island group, which is in part the property of the New Guinea Company, exports a fairly large quantity of copra and therefore the company maintains an agent here who exploits the coconut crop. When I visited these islands for the first time years ago, they were heavily populated; today only a small remnant of the population is left. Numerous natives were struck down by a smallpox epidemic which ravaged the New Guinea coast in 1897 and also extended to New Britain and several of the smaller islands. The epidemic was introduced to the French Islands from the Willaumez Peninsula and proceeded in a terrible way, particularly on Deslacs. The smaller islands suffered to a lesser degree, and only Mérite seems to have been spared.

About 60 nautical miles west of the French Islands lies an extensive coral reef, Whirlwind Reef, which in 1899 almost caused a disaster for the imperial cruiser Kormorant. En route from Kaiser Wilhelmsland to the Bismarck Archipelago the cruiser, because of a shift in the strong current, ran onto the coral reef. Although the ship had not been holed, the forward section had embedded so deeply into the reef that initially all attempts to float her off by steam power proved fruitless. They therefore proceeded to lighten ship; the major part of the coal supply was thrown overboard; then followed all heavier items that could be disposed of for the present: chains, part of the ballast, torpedoes, munitions, steam winches, and so on. The cannon were held back right till the last critical moment. Fortunately they were saved, for on the seventh day, due to never-failing presence of mind and prudence, the commanding officer Lieutenant-Commander Emsmann, and his officers, supported by an efficient crew who carried out the necessary steps for saving the ship with unflagging and exacting effort during the worrying time, finally succeeded in refloating the cruiser.

The heroic saving of the ship from going down is one of those deeds of our German navy which is acknowledged far too little at home. The attention of the greater public is only aroused when a tragic catastrophe occurs, like the sinking of a ship. If the good Germans at home were more familiar with the doings of our fleet, particularly overseas, they might perhaps be less inclined to deny expenditure on the navy. While every triviality at home is discussed as widely as possible, those events that are not accessible to the ordinary reporter are given only quite casual mention; at the most, a brief telegram announces the casualties.

The Neulauenburg group (previously Duke of York) is a group consisting of several smaller, and one larger, islands in St George’s Channel, about 188 nautical miles north of Cape Gazelle and 20 nautical miles west of the New Ireland coast. On modern maps the old, inconsistent names Amakata, and so on, once resplendent on older maps as island names, are gradually disappearing.

This brings me to the distressing question of geographical nomenclature. I am totally on the side of Herr von Luschan, the meritorious promoter of this question, when he turns against renaming, where good indigenous names exist. The Bismarck Archipelago and Kaiser Wilhelmsland in particular are brimming over with new-found names that hopefully over time will yield to the indigenous names, the more so since several of these are so ill-defined in position that it causes doubt for the traveller or seafarer where precisely the point in question lies. Thus, for example, it is extremely difficult to differentiate between the numerous points jutting out from the New Ireland coast: Kap Strauch, Ahlefeldspitze, Rittmeierhuk, and so on. The natives obviously do not know the names given by the Europeans, and the latter know the native designations just as little, and consequently it has come about that natives, adrift in their canoes, who finally arrived at a settlement, could not be sent back to their homeland because the name that they gave to their dwelling place was totally unknown. As a rule the origins of such natives have been determined from the type of construction of their canoes, from the weapons they carried, or from their decoration. Now, however, in a lot of cases it is quite difficult, even with the best will in the world, to discover the affiliations of the natives. With the tangle of languages predominating in Melanesia it is impossible for one individual to communicate with all the tribes; questions put forward are incorrectly comprehended by the natives and a false answer results, haunting the maps for further long years. The name Amakata, for example, certainly originated in this manner, by pointing, for clearer understanding. The native had understood that a name was wanted; he followed the direction of the outstretched hand with his eyes and gave the name of the particular island that had been directly pointed to. The answer accordingly ran a makata (a is the article), the name of one of the islands, and the inquirer made of this Amakata, as the principal designation of the entire group. This has no collective name at all, likewise the main island has no individual name. The earlier name of New Ireland, Tombara, arose similarly. It is an erroneous rendering of the word taubar, the direction from which the south-east wind comes, and therefore probably arose because someone indicated that direction with the hand. The number of similar examples can be multiplied without difficulty.

A further difficulty is that the natives have a particular name for a particular place or for a particular small island where they live, while distant natives know the place by a totally different name. During my brief stay on the islands of Durour and Matty I could not discover the local designations. A native of Ninigo who had lived there a long time designated them as Huen and Popolo. However, after we had got to know the natives of both small islands better, it turned out that the natives call their islands Aua and Wuwulu, and that Huen and Popolo are special designations of the Ninigo people. This example too can be multiplied ad infinitum.

As a rule, it can be defined thus: whole mountains and mountain ranges are given no collective names by the natives, but on the other hand individual peaks worthy of note have different designations in the various regions round about. Large islands that cannot be perceived or distinguished as such all at once, likewise have no designation; they are as a rule divided into individual districts or regions, whose names are also known to distant dwelling natives, and these are subdivided into villages or districts with unique names; the individual areas of the village on the other hand are recognised under special names by the residents. Inhabitants of neighbouring islands frequently have other designations for coasts, districts and villages of the islands nearby, that are never used by the locals. Parts of the sea, bays, harbours and straits have, as a rule, no special name, but are named for the nearest islands. Detached reefs seldom have a native designation. Characteristic foothills, prominences and mountain peaks, as well as rivers and streams have as a rule individual, independent names.

It can be seen from this that it is not always easy to establish the correct designation, apart from the difficulty that the written rendering of the name often provides for the European; and that in spite of the best intentions, we always come back to the embarrassing situation of inventing names and designations for localities that have none, and which nevertheless we perforce must name, because otherwise significant gaps would arise in the nomenclature, which might be regarded most disagreeably by travellers, seafarers and settlers.

Recently native place names have increased, which is as it should be, but it will still be a long time before we have done away with names like Herbertshöhe, Hannamhafen, and so on. Out of respect for the names and memories of old seafarers and discoverers, many of these names will still be retained, in spite of the natives’ designations ascertained in the meantime.

After this digression I will return to the Duke of York group.

It has a surface area of 75 square kilometres, and in 1900 the population numbers, from a census by the then Imperial Judge Dr Schnee, amounted to 3,373 individuals: 1,060 men, 935 women, 772 boys and 606 girls. The number of births came to 253, deaths 212. From this it would seem that the 19population is in a state of growth; however, this is not the case, for during my long stay in the archipelago the population has decreased markedly, and is being augmented continually by newcomers from New Ireland and the Gazelle Peninsula.

The islands consist entirely of raised coral formations that form steep shorelines, especially in the north and west. Repeated raising, interrupted by periods of sinking, can clearly be detected in places, and we can conclude from this that the same also occurred on the neighbouring islands. The highest elevations are the two hills on the island of Makada, 80 and 100 metres high. Otherwise, the islands are flat and covered with thick forest.

South of the main island of the Duke of Yorks lie a number of smaller islands, three of which, Ulu, Utuan and Mioko, form the splendid Miokohafen that provides a completely safe anchorage, protected against all winds. Two practicable entrances, the Levinson and the north-west passes, lead into the harbour and permit sailing ships to enter or leave the harbour by one or other pass, depending on the prevailing wind. South of Ulu the two small islands of Kabokon and Kerawara likewise form a harbour, but of lesser significance. At the north-west end of the group lies the island of Makada, separated from the main island by a strait which forms a somewhat protected anchorage. As a continuation of the big island to a certain extent, several small islets lacking particular importance lie off its extreme north-western corner. Also worthy of mention is the small Hunterhafen, close to the north-west corner, scarcely, however, of any consequence to shipping.

Although the harbour of Mioko must be regarded as quite outstanding, it is of little value for the future development of the archipelago because of its remote, insular position. In earlier years it had played a major role, and was for a time the starting-point for further commercial undertakings in the archipelago after the Hamburg firm of J.C. Godeffroy & Son established a station there in the mid-1870s. Also, the firm of Hernsheim & Co. founded their first settlement on Makada, relocating to Matupi in Blanche Bay a short time later. The original Godeffroy station on Mioko later passed into the hands of the Deutsche Handelsund Plantagengesellschaft which still runs it. It participated only to a limited extent in the commerce of the archipelago and has contributed little to its development over its many years of operation. The company’s main aim today is to recruit about 250 workers annually for its plantations in Samoa; thus creating markedly unpleasant competition for the archipelago, which annually requires an increasing number of workers for the inexorably expanding plantations, and coming very close to causing direct damage. Hopefully the administration in Samoa will gradually succeed in overcoming the laziness that has become second nature to the Samoans, to the point where that colony will be in a position to produce its own workers. The commercial undertakings of the company are taken care of by a staff of Chinese merchants, for whom one or two whites act as overseers on Mioko, as representatives of the parent company.

As in earlier times trade developed outwards from Mioko, so was Hunterhafen the startingpoint of the first Christian mission, having its main seat there until 1900. However, since then, it has withdrawn to the island of Ulu in Miokohafen and founded a secondary school under the guidance of a white missionary, for the education of native mission teachers.

In spite of early colonisation by whites, and in spite of a splendid harbour and a fertile soil, plantation agriculture only began to exploit this group of islands in 1901. The Catholic mission has acquired the southern end of the main island from the Deutsche Handels- und Plantagengesellschaft and set up a plantation there; the Methodist mission is cultivating Ulu, and the island of Kabokon belongs to a private citizen who has brought it into palm cultivation.

On the island of Kerawara the first station of the New Guinea Company in the Bismarck Archipelago vegetated for a while, setting its administrative apparatus in motion from here on outwards, in its own time. One could hardly have chosen a less favourable site, and accordingly in 1890 the company saw the need to transfer to the presentday Herbertshöhe.

2. The Inhabitants

Just as the island of New Britain can be divided geographically into various main divisions, it may also be divided ethnographically into several provinces that exhibit only a superficial, loose connection with one another. It remains to be seen whether these ethnographical provinces coincide quite precisely with the principal geographical divisions, and whether one might establish beyond doubt an original connection. Wherever we go on the island, we come across the effect of volcanic forces that have taken an active part in the mighty accretions of loose rock, and in the uplifting and sinking of the earth. Because of this the surface of New Britain, like its outlines, must, from time to time, have undergone great changes, and these changes have affected the population: dispersed tribes, erected barriers between some, and linked others again by bridges. These changes have not taken place slowly and steadily, but in fits and starts, in some places suddenly, in the form of mighty volcanic eruptions. All of this has, over the course of millennia, left its mark on the population, and the most cursory observer will notice the difference immediately when, for example, he sees a native from the Herbertshöhe area alongside one from South Cape or from the western end of the island.2021

22The northern part of the island, the Gazelle Peninsula, comprises as I have already mentioned, two main parts: the Baining Mountains with their foothills, and the north-eastern plateau, separated from each other by a depression cutting deeply into the land from Weberhafen, frequently traversed by the rivulets and streams which pour out of the mountains. This land depression stretches through the entire Gazelle Peninsula, from Weberhafen, out beyond Vunakokor, right to St George’s Channel, in this latter part forming the sunken valley of the Karawat or Warangoi River. The north-eastern plateau comprises deposited volcanic material: pumice, ash, blocks of obsidian, lava debris, and so on. This deposition did not originate suddenly from a catastrophe, as is indicated by steep slopes where one can clearly observe the laying down of strata over different periods; moreover major uplifting and sinking must have taken place alternately, because many of the strata were unquestionably deposited beneath the sea, then, after an uplift, covered by erupted material from the volcanoes, before sinking back into the sea. The source of this great volcanic activity is probably to be found in present-day Blanche Bay with its still partially active volcanic system, as well as in the far older volcano, Vunakokor (Varzinberg).

Before this mighty catastrophe, which may have stretched over a long period of time, the Gazelle Peninsula was undoubtedly inhabited by the same tribe. The volcanic activity buried part of the then surface under huge eruptions or sank other parts under the sea. Those who didn’t lose their lives immediately took flight, and found sanctuary in those areas that lay beyond the range of the volcanic activity. One such region was the present-day Baining Mountains with their foothills.

Even today therefore we find here the descendants of the original inhabitants of the Gazelle Peninsula, who by their isolation have indeed largely retained their original peculiar characteristics and their language. They were named Baining by their neighbours to the north-east. They know no tabu (shell money), have no duk-duks, and are not seafarers. They manufacture stone clubs with a heavy, perforated stone head, a skill that we find again only in a few areas of New Guinea. I have extensively discussed their characteristic dances, with curious, mask-like headgear, in another section. Physically too they differ from their neighbours in their solid physique; they are considerably inferior to them intellectually, and in this respect they probably belong among the most inferior tribes of the archipelago. Right up to the most recent times they were the objects of systematically organised slave raids with associated cannibal feasts.

Now where do the inhabitants of the north-eastern Gazelle Peninsula originate? It doesn’t seem difficult to answer this question with some certainty.

It must have taken a long time before the expanses covered with volcanic rubble clothed themselves with vegetation to the point where they formed a suitable dwelling place for human existence. Analogous cases demonstrate to a lesser extent that, both from the beach and from those areas spared from being overwhelmed, vegetation soon spreads over the barren ground and rapidly forms a continually developing plant cover. The weathering of rock is thereby promoted and expedited, and slowly an upper fertile layer of humus develops. The small volcanic cone, Kaije, on the Mother peninsula and the small volcanic island in Blanche Bay that rose above the surface of the sea in 1878 show this very clearly. When I visited these places in 1882 the already-developing vegetation was still quite sparse. Year by year it became thicker, and now covers not only the outside of the crater but is gradually creeping inside. On the volcanic island this has become even more obvious. Today the major part of it is covered with dense undergrowth, mostly casuarina, and recently a great number of trees and shrubs indigenous to the littoral zone have been added. In a few years’ time a dense stand of forest will exist here, and then the humus layer will increase rapidly year by year.

Roughly midway between the Gazelle Peninsula and New Ireland lies the small Duke of York group, formed from raised coral reefs. In my opinion it was already inhabited at the time of the great volcanic eruptions, the deposits of which did not reach this far, by a tribe that had immigrated from New Ireland opposite. Even if this was not the case, and had the island emerged simultaneously with the volcanic eruptions of the Gazelle Peninsula, and if the uplifting and sinking occurred at the same time, this would not be proof against my claim. An alternating uplifting and sinking also occurred in the Duke of Yorks; however, after the ensuing calm these small islands must have been covered with vegetation much more quickly than the Gazelle Peninsula opposite, and would have served the New Ireland people to some extent as a first stage on their migration. The present Duke of York people are today still in active communication with New Ireland opposite, and are closely related in speech and customs to the natives there. To a great extent the New Ireland people have gradually extended their expeditions outwards from the Duke of York group to the coasts of the Gazelle Peninsula opposite, and as they found them suitable for settlements they finally settled down there.

The original inhabitants, the Baining, who had settled in the mountains, offered no resistance to the intruders; between the coast and the mountains 23at the time there still lay a broad region turned into a wasteland by volcanic lava flows, which only in more recent times became suitable for settlement and cultivation. It is therefore easy to understand that the immigrants were able to settle unhindered on the coast, which was gradually becoming ever more hospitable.

These first pioneers associated little by little with tribally related locals from New Ireland; and a consequence of this is that the present inhabitants of the north-eastern part of the Gazelle Peninsula, the descendants of these immigrants, are extremely similar in many respects to the inhabitants of the southern half of New Ireland. On St George’s Channel and in the villages on the slopes of Mother the inhabitants regard themselves as relatives of the population on New Ireland opposite.

It might be going too far, to present all the similarities between the people of southern New Ireland and the inhabitants of the north-eastern Gazelle Peninsula. I will give, as an example, the affinity in language. Hundreds of words are the same in both regions; for example, mal = object, lakut = cloud, torom = to serve, tir = to ask, kuare = string, buk = to cook, kogo = to cough, matuane = uncle, tamane = father, mate = hole, bung = day, kapul = cuscus, nana = mother, palina = bark, and so on. Over the course of time alterations have 24occurred; and so almost all the words that are written with an ‘h’ on New Ireland have changed on the Gazelle Peninsula into a ‘v’ or ‘w’; for example, hudu becomes wudu = banana, hahina becomes wawina = woman, hat becomes wat = stone, harubu becomes warubu = to fight, taha becomes tawa = water, hilau becomes wilau = to run, and so on; many words on the Gazelle Peninsula leave out the ‘s’, thus lamas becomes lama = coconut, ngas becomes nga = path, kis becomes ki = to sit, pas becomes pa = taro, balus becomes balu = pigeon, mis becomes mi = to smoke, saring becomes aring = to beg, and so on. The Wesleyan mission, which has maintained settlements on New Ireland as well as in the Duke of Yorks and on the Gazelle Peninsula since 1875, taught in the local dialects in all three places during the first fifteen years. However, during this period it became clear to the mission leaders that it was only a matter of dealing with one single language, split into various, not very different, dialects. The mission in recent times therefore established the dialect of the Gazelle Peninsula as a universal language, both in the Duke of Yorks and on southern New Ireland, and finds no difficulty with this.

As differences in the language developed over the course of time, after the importation of new settlers had ceased so also did other characteristics develop. When we observe today in southern New Ireland those characteristics that are missing in the closely related inhabitants of the Gazelle Peninsula, they may be based on influences from northern New Ireland and from the north-western Solomon Islands, which asserted themselves once immigration to the Gazelle Peninsula had largely ceased. Consequently these influences must have remained confined to southern New Ireland and not disseminated as far as the Gazelle Peninsula.

Slowly the immigrants spread inland from the beach on the Gazelle Peninsula. By the time they had reached as far as Mount Vunakokor (Varzin), the original inhabitants, advancing from their mountain refuges, had regained possession of a portion of their former dwelling places, and there now developed a struggle between both tribes, which continues to this day. The new arrivals were certainly strong enough to hold on to their chosen dwelling sites, but the original inhabitants also possessed sufficient ability to resist, thus preventing further expansion. Today the invaders inhabit the coast up to about 12 nautical miles south of Cape Gazelle, as well as the entire north coast as far as Weberhafen; inland they do not go far over the Varzinberg. The small islands of Masava and Masikonápuka, west of Weberhafen, form several outlying colonies to the west. Their inhabitants had established themselves on the opposite coast only within the last forty years, and maintain a narrow coastal strip there today. The natives of these outposts, as well as their tribal relatives on Weberhafen, Cape Livuan and on the islands of Urara and Uatom, have been enterprising seafarers since time immemorial. They have for many years, long before the European discovery of New Britain, maintained contact with the natives living further to the south, in the region of the three volcanoes (Father and 25the two Sons), from where they brought the Nassa snails which are so highly prized by the people of their land and have a particular value as currency (tabu) on the high plateau. Through this trade these colonists lying out to the west have acquired many things from the natives living further southwards, with whom they came into contact. However, the mutual influence has always remained only slight, since the superficial trading of both tribes never led to closer, friendly ties.

The Baining who inhabit the mountain range on the western side of the Gazelle Peninsula (whom I shall designate as the North Baining), and the Baining who occupy the mountain range on the southern half of the peninsula, belong to the same tribe insofar as we can judge today. On the shore of St George’s Channel I came into contact with the latter; that is, we shouted back and forth over a short distance, because the natives were too fearful to await my approach. They had spears and clubs in their hands and wore bark loin-cloths decorated with bright patterns, whereas the North Baining, and, before the arrival of the white people, the other inhabitants of the peninsula, at least the men, wore no clothing. It is therefore not impossible that these South Baining are, or were, in contact with the natives living further to the south on the main island, and acquired various customs from there, as, for example, clothing. They are, however, different from them in that like the North Baining they have no boats and are therefore not seafarers, and also have no shields. I therefore tend to the opinion that they are to be regarded as tribally very closely related to the North Baining. Father Rascher, to whom we are grateful for so much useful information about the Baining, tells me that at Cape Buller and Cape Bogengang (St George’s Channel) he encountered the South Baining and found no difficulty in conversing with them: further evidence that the South Baining and North-west Baining belong to one and the same tribes. Also, south-west of Varzin the father came into contact with the South Baining, and ascertained that they belonged with the North Baining.

In various accounts of the natives of the Gazelle Peninsula, mention is made of a tribe that dwells in the interior of the peninsula south-west of Vunakokor, and is designated by the name Taulil. The Taulil are fought both by the Baining and the north-eastern inhabitants, and are in the process of dying out. A related tribe, the Butam, was totally wiped out a few years ago. From this hostility, and from the fact that both tribes have a divergent language, one came to the conclusion that they were totally different from the north-eastern inhabitants. However, this is not the case: they are scattered tribes of the population that occupies St George’s Channel still today, and which also immigrated from New Ireland, though from the more southerly part of the island, which to this day is different in language from the northern districts. The later immigrants, pressing onwards, drove the Butam and Taulil from their original dwelling places, and subsequently annihilated the former. 26The remnants of the Taulil tribe number about 300 individuals. Later in the general review I will assemble the little that is known so far about the Taulil, from which it appears that they are a member of the great north-eastern tribe.

South of the Gazelle Peninsula, and connected to it by a relatively narrow isthmus, stretches the mountain region that we have come to know in the descriptive section, with a series of volcanoes, still active in places, on the western shore.

In the mountain region we meet a tribe that has begun only recently to become known to us. Incomplete and full of gaps as our knowledge may be, it still entitles us to the assumption that we are dealing with a tribe that has little in common with the neighbouring tribes in the north, and stands on a higher level intellectually. It possesses superbly crafted clubs, some with round or oval heads, some with the striking end in the shape of a pineapple. We also find a club of peculiar shape, of which Powell3 gives a very poor illustration (page 109, certainly drawn from memory), the like of which is not found anywhere else in the region, neither in the Bismarck Archipelago nor New Guinea. Then we find peculiar mask dances and masks of the most diverse forms, which certainly show distant similarities with the duk-duk but are otherwise quite different. Furthermore, we find painstakingly constructed large boats with artistic painting. All of this seems to me sufficient to give this tribe a separate position.

In an earlier work (Die Volkstämme Neupommerns, in Abhandlungen und Berichte des Königlichen Museums zu Dresden, Festschrift 1899, No. 5), in consequence of the imprecise knowledge of this tribe at that time, I presented it as related to the Baining; however, this relationship stretches indeed only as far as the South Baining, and that too is a very tenuous one.

To the west, past Jacquinot Bay and as far as Montague Bay there occurs an admixture with the tribes on the opposite, north coast of the island, manifested, for example, in the current type of shields, which strongly call to mind Willaumez Peninsula and Nakanai. However, on the whole the influence of the inhabitants of the high mountains predominates.

The further westwards we proceed from Montague Bay, the more clear it becomes that this entire western part of the island is inhabited by a tribe that is closely related to the coastal population of New Guinea. However, from Cape Roebuck beyond Möwehafen to about Cape Merkus, there is a tribe that apparently differs greatly from the neighbours. Namely, in this region the skull is artificially deformed, so that it takes on a receding, strongly conical shape. The custom is not universal, however, and natives of this area without deformed skulls have the greatest affinity with neighbours dwelling further to the west, as with the natives on the New Guinea coast opposite, Rook Island. Trade still takes place today between the people around Finschhafen, the Tami Island people, and the natives of Rook Island and the natives of New Britain up to east of Möwehafen. I have come upon Tami boats with pottery in the region of the South Cape, and Rook canoes in the Arawa Islands.

On the northern side of the island the affinity with New Guinea is even more obvious. On the north coast the tribe has spread further to the east than on the south coast; it occupies the entire coastal region as far as Open Bay, where it has established its most recent outlying colonies; also, the natives of the island of Duportail, as well as those of the French Islands, belong to the same tribe.

Right at the western end of the island, the resemblance of the inhabitants with those of the coast of New Guinea opposite is at its most clear. Reciprocal trade exists with Rook Island, and in custom, as in language and in physical features, the greatest similarity prevails.

It follows from the above that we can distinguish four tribes on the island of New Britain, namely:

1. The north-eastern inhabitants of the Gazelle Peninsula, who in all probability have immigrated from southern New Ireland;
2. the Baining, the original inhabitants of the Gazelle Peninsula, who through volcanic events were driven back into the mountains of the west and south of the peninsula;
3. the tribes on the extension of the main island, south of the Gazelle Peninsula, and;
4. the tribes closely related to the inhabitants of the coast of New Guinea opposite, which occupy the entire western part of the island, and are differentiated from the other tribes on the south coast by deformed skulls.

The differences between the given tribes can easily be explained, in that they have lived in isolation from one another, and had no, or at best very little, communication. The fairly recent immigration from New Ireland satisfactorily explains the difference between the immigrants and the Baining. They were previously separated from each other by a broad arm of the sea, and when trade took place it could be one way only, since at that time the Baining had boats just as small as they are now.

The difference between the Baining and the inhabitants of the mountain region south of present-day Gazelle Peninsula can be explained similarly. The relatively low isthmus, which connects both parts today, is formed from raised coral formations, and where there is now an isthmus, a strait certainly existed earlier, separating the Baining highlands from the southern highlands. A similar divide may have been present between

27the southern highlands and the great western part of the island.

The mighty volcanic activity which in stages raised Rook Island out of the sea off the New Guinea coast, so that from the shape of the terraces we are still able to establish precisely the number and extent of the upheavals, also extended to New Britain. Here too we can follow the terrace formation, even if not to the same extent as, for example, on Fortification Point in New Guinea. Nevertheless, these terrace-shaped upliftings can be followed right to the isthmus that separates the Gazelle Peninsula from the main island. Besides these upheavals, volcanic eruptions, combined with vast deposits of erupted material, have made their contribution toward the island’s present form. The southern half of New Ireland, the Baining Mountains of the Gazelle Peninsula, the plateau lying to the south of it, and the western end of New Britain were indeed at one time separate islands. Their inhabitants had little to do with one another; and even after the individual islands were partially connected by upliftings of the earth, they preserved their special position and their peculiarities.

a. The Natives of the North-east of the Gazelle Peninsula

In the following account of the inhabitants, their usages and customs, I am following the previously presented organisation of the tribes, according to which clearly different ethnographic provinces can be defined. The first of these provinces encompasses the area of the Gazelle Peninsula, insofar as it is inhabited by immigrant tribes from New Ireland, and its borders have already been given.

However, from the outset I must emphasise that within this province, as within the provinces mentioned later, the traditions and customs are not universal, nor is the language. Peculiarities continue from district to district, but on closer acquaintance a common origin cannot fail to be recognised. The whole region is divided into a number of greater and smaller districts, each as a rule with its own name. Within these districts lie the individual settlements (qunan) usually comprising only a small number of huts, seldom more than ten. Here dwells a family, in the narrow sense. Should the family enlarge, then several members split off and form a new qunan. Thus develops a colony, dominated by a particular sib. A district seldom contains several sibs near one another.

Within the individual sibs, niurana, there are always several prominent people who are regarded as leaders and regents. The highest eminence is that of the a gala (g = ng), which means literally ‘the great one’. However, situations occur where the members of the sib simply depose the a gala because he does not show himself to be equal to his role, particularly if administering the family property badly or wastefully. His successor is always the next brother in succession or the next matrilineal nephew. These are also his successors on his death. The a gala then, is the actual chief and exercises the authority of a chief as far as it serves the benefit or the needs of the whole sib. He buys wives for the youths, who must subsequently pay back his outlay by working for him. He is the treasurer for the entire sib, and the family wealth in shell money – tabu – is held in his house. If he is an enterprising man, then he will encourage his people in the establishment of large gardens. It is then customary for him to pay for their support from the family wealth. However, the sum advanced, plus a bonus decided upon, is repaid to him after the sale of the harvest, to be deposited in the tabu house. Should the sib be a large one, and a great quantity of tabu be entrusted to him, this causes him quite a lot of trouble. The large coils of tabu can be distinguished easily; but in addition there are numerous bigger and smaller bundles and baskets, which all appear the same to an outsider, but they all have different owners, who must be remembered by the a gala. 28

However, he never makes a mistake in the administration, although difficult problems not infrequently make demands on his memory. His claim over family land and property is no greater than that of any other family member; however, he can alienate pieces of family land, but must consult with the owners first in order to obtain their consent. He hands over the proceeds to the owners on conclusion of the sale, or deposits it with the sib funds. As the a gala is usually a financial wizard, he not infrequently acquires a quite considerable fortune on his own account, from the funds entrusted to him, and is then designated also as uviana, rich man.

After the a gala, the rank of luluai is the most important. The luluai is the war leader of the tribe. Not infrequently the positions of a gala and luluai are vested in one person, but the designation is received by an individual who distinguishes himself in battle, and to whose leadership the other members of the tribe will willingly submit, if need arises, because his courage and ability are recognised by them. When the a gala grows old and is no longer able to lead his people into battle, he summons one or more of his luluai who must now take over supreme command from him. In return, this person enjoys certain privileges. He may, for example, retain a greater portion of the shell money captured on war expeditions, and he can keep his own property in his own house and deal with it as he sees fit. The luluai therefore has the opportunity of being able, in time, to become an uviana, from which the rank of an a gala is also attainable.

There is no outward identification of these honours; ornaments seen at times on the head, neck, chest and elsewhere, are not marks of distinction, but solely a means of beautifying the body.

All the affairs of the group are discussed in council. Either a particular day and a particular place is determined in advance or, in cases where the situation is urgent, the men are called together by signal on the wooden drum. It is astonishing the speed with which the warriors will assemble at the permanently established meeting place, usually the qunan or the compound of the a gala, after the drum signal has sounded far through the forest. The purpose of the meeting is then made known to those present, and an individual can offer his opinion. Not infrequently violent debates take place, and, if the affair is not exactly very urgent, they even break up without having resolved the matter. However, if the situation is of great importance – for example, if an invasion is threatened, or a member of the tribe has been slain or a woman has been raped – then resolution is achieved with astonishing speed and they proceed forthwith to carry it out. Let us suppose that an invasion is threatened. In this case, if they feel that they are not strong enough to repel the attack, the shell money is made safe immediately. Men and women silently load themselves up with the tribal treasure and carry it either to a friendly neighbouring tribe or, if it is already too late, they bury the money in a remote, predetermined spot in the forest. Under the leadership of the luluai, 29the men capable of bearing weapons lie in ambush, or advance to meet the enemy, in order to engage him on open ground if possible.

If the cause of such a mobilisation is not of absolutely vital importance, then the parties on both sides nominate mediators from neighbouring tribes, and these then bring the situation to a conclusion by thoroughly discussing the case, and decree a payment of shell money to the injured party. Only extremely rarely do the condemned ones disobey this sentence. After payment of the blood-money, the old men of both parties come together, exchange lime and betel nuts, and thus peace is restored. In particular cases – for example when a member of the tribe is slain by another tribe, or indeed eaten – peace is not so easily restored. The honour of the tribe requires in certain cases that the deed be avenged, and a state of war exists until the other tribe is paid back in the same coin. If the latter tribe is then intent on further reprisals, these feuds can carry on for a long time. When the need to negotiate a peace exists on both sides, it is the task of the mediator to prepare a way for this; each party pays the other compensation for the numbers killed during the time of war; after the ensuing payment betel nuts are exchanged and chewed, and the peace is then a lasting one, in any event as long-lasting as our European peace treaties.

It may also happen that a tribe feels too weak to avenge the wrong perpetrated against it. In this case a quite specific custom has developed, which of course must now yield gradually to the influence of the white man. This custom consists of somebody causing damage to the property of a totally disinterested person, compelling him to seek satisfaction from the original evildoer. This custom is called kamara. When I settled in New Britain in the early 1880s, this custom was universally recognised. However, this seldom went as far as killing; although I know of one such case, which was quickly brought to an end when the man who had interpreted this custom in too broad a sense was killed by his own tribal members. On the other hand kamara was always practised when one tribe had damaged the property of another and was not quick enough in paying the atonement due.

In a few instances I myself have been compelled to practise kamara. Right when I first settled here, sundry items, especially tools, were stolen from me quite frequently, without my being able to identify the thief. Several elderly native friends therefore advised me to make use of kamara, and so I became familiar with this institution. When such a theft occurred, I used to go calmly to my wealthy and influential neighbours, one of whom was one of the abovementioned advisers, take their canoes away, tell them of the theft that had taken place, and leave it to them to seek out the thief. This was successfully accomplished regularly, and we remained the best of friends in spite of it. Of course the canoes found their way back to their owners as soon as the stolen item, or compensation, was handed over to me, but so firmly rooted was the universal custom of kamara that my old friend did not consider blaming me for taking his means of transport, even though I had to use this method four times in one month in order to prevent further encroachments. I learned many years later, that at the time of the regularly held market days he posted spies everywhere, to watch carefully that nothing was stolen from me, and if the need arose, to be able to catch the thief quickly.

It is true that the practice of kamara did not go so well for everyone. The dog belonging to a trader living not far from me was killed. As he did not know the perpetrator, he endeavoured, relying on the kamara, to obtain compensation for himself by taking away a coil of tabu from a neighbouring luluai in his absence. However, the latter interpreted the situation in reverse, pushed the trader around in front of his house, smashed the planking of the boat drawn up on the beach and demanded the return of his property.

As the a gala is the head of the tribe, so every married, native man, whether he have one or several wives, is absolute master of them. The wife is his property and must work for him; if this property right is infringed by a third person, the husband is entitled to claim compensation from the latter, and this is in most cases determined in advance according to certain rules and customs. Adultery is not always punished by death, but on the other hand incest, pulu, always is; this includes not only sexual connection between natural brothers and sisters, but also between persons of the same tribal sign, or as we say, the same totem. However, the husband’s right does not extend to his being the executor of the death penalty in these cases; this right is reserved solely for the brother of the adultress, or her maternal uncle. In earlier times this right was almost always exercised, but under the influence of settlers, the missionary societies, and administrative authorities, the practice is waning. Of course this is not without regret on the part of the natives, who view such transgressions by women quite differently from white people, and fear, not unreasonably, that when their old law vanishes one day, the excesses of the women will increase. As a matter of fact they are quite right, for the women now know full well that in cases of adultery the authorities will protect their lives, and they are consequently less moral than was formerly the case. Adultery is therefore on the increase. This is one of the cases where we, with our progressive laws and humane views, interfere seriously in the life of the natives and cause infinite harm that spreads increasingly. In our efforts to set up the new, we break down the old, without replacing it 30with anything better. Compensation for the dead wife is paid to the husband in shell money by the one who carries out the punishment. It is usually the purchase price paid at the betrothal.

After marriage, the wife still remains a member of her own family, to whom she can return if the marriage is nullified by the death of her husband. In this event she is again sold by the relatives, should an admirer appear. But even during the husband’s lifetime she frequently returns to her family and stays there for a shorter or longer time. Should a separation occur by mutual agreement of the married couple, the family reimburses the husband the cost of purchase, and the marriage is thereby dissolved. Such separations are quite frequent, and they are increasing in recent times in order to avoid problems, partly within the family and partly with the authorities.

However, there are extraordinarily many cases in which the marriage is a lasting union for life. Petty quarrels between the married couple are of course the norm, and the wronged or aggrieved wife then goes to her relatives, to give expression to her anger; but such minor marital quarrels are not of long duration, providing no more serious grounds exist. After a few days, when her wrath has subsided, the wife comes back again, or the husband makes amends and sends small gifts, through friends or relations, as evidence of his good will.

It is quite common for the a gala to buy girls in very early childhood, in order to marry them off later at marriageable age to one or other of his young men, on repayment of all outstanding expenses. The rule is that the young man does not select the wife himself; she is chosen by his parents, his maternal uncle, or by his relatives. In more mature youth it may happen that a marriage based on mutual affection can be contracted for the people in question, and this is then enduring; usually this marriage is preceded by an optional marriage which must then be dissolved before the true marriage can take place.

The marriage of a very young couple, or more correctly their engagement, proceeds under prescribed ceremonies. These are almost universally the same and follow a defined order.

Mother and father, or the uncle in their place, go to the parents of the girl and hand over about ten fathoms of tabu to her father, who divides them up among the girl’s relatives. Then the girl goes with the purchasers to their dwelling, and here the father or uncle distributes tabu once more, to the people who have accompanied him. The girl’s parents then choose a certain day for a visit to the parents or the uncle of the boy (murvartulai). On this occasion they bring prepared food, which the other party accepts, and pays for with tabu. Moreover, they in turn are given prepared food, for which they pay an equivalent amount of tabu. During the subsequent feasting a day is chosen on which the young man, who should not be present at these ceremonies, is presented to the future in-laws. For this presentation the male relatives of the youth practise a dance, and the female relatives on the bride’s side do likewise. On the appointed day, the men present their dance first; then follows the presentation by the women, during which time the youth and those who have accompanied him form the audience. The bride’s parents then bring a present of about ten fathoms of tabu to the future son-in-law, and the parents or the uncle of the youth make a similar gift to the parents or the uncle of the girl.

That marks the beginning of the engagement of the young couple in a way. When both parties are still in their childhood, as frequently happens, the girl remains with her parents or relatives until reaching marriageable age, and likewise the boy or youth with his. Although both realise that in later life they will live together as man and wife, in chance meetings they act as if they had never seen each other before, indeed they are forbidden to look at each other or gaze after each other, or to mention the future union to others.

When the girl is old enough to marry, the mother of the youth sends an older woman to the future daughter-in-law’s home to fetch her. The woman envoy holds the summoned girl by the hand and flings betel nuts at the young man who is there, calling out: ‘Here are so and so’s betel nuts!’ The other men present gather up the betel nuts and eat them. The aim of this ceremony is to establish the acquaintance of both parties, and make it possible for them to look at each other from now on at chance encounters. The ceremony itself is called varabibir na buai (varabibir = the throwing, the stoning).

In some districts it is done a little differently. When the parties have agreed on the marriage, the friends of the bridegroom seize him, and hold him firmly on the ground while the parents or the uncle of the youth distribute tabu among the men and the weeping women present; this is the warakinim. On the day of the warakinim it is expressly forbidden for the young man concerned to bathe in the sea. Afterwards he is taken to a house that lies apart, in the forest, and here he is kept concealed for a period, paraparau. Several friends keep him company during this concealment, and relatives bring them meals, waralupa. During this hide-and-seek the wife is bought (warakukul), and only then may the bridegroom see her, when all the costs of the previously described ceremonies have been paid. When the bridegroom returns from the paraparau, he is splendidly adorned, with a plume of feathers in his hair, forehead-bands and armbands, he holds a special club (bagat) richly adorned with plumes of feathers, and an ornamental basket, plaited from 31palm fronds and adorned with feathers and bright foliage, is slid under his arm.

The ceremonies then ensue as previously described. If the acquaintance of both young people has taken place through the warabibir na buai, then the relatives arrange a further approach. For this purpose the young men, on inducement from the women, seize the bridegroom and bring him by night to the dwelling of his father or uncle, while at the same time the women bring the bride to the same place with a gift for the bridegroom of two fathoms of tabu; the men repay this gift by handing over the same amount of tabu to the bride, in the name of the bridegroom; although the bridegroom often delivers the present to the bride in person. After this exchange of gifts, the bride remains in the house of her in-laws and the bridegroom takes himself off to the bachelors’ house. Two or three days later, the bridegroom, accompanied by one of his friends, visits the bride once more, and she sets food before them; this ceremony is called tultuluai and is repeated from day to day, in order for the bride and groom to become accustomed to each other. If his future bride does not please the young gentleman, he demonstrates this by rejecting the gifts offered and by not touching the food set before him; the bride shows her aversion to the bridegroom by offering betel nuts or food to the young man only under compulsion. As a conclusive trial, on a certain day a fire is made in front of the hut. Bride and bridegroom sit opposite each other at the fire. If the bride turns her face to the bridegroom, this is a sign of consent; should she turn her face away, she is indicating her aversion. The bridegroom expresses his antipathy either by remaining very far away or by sending a young man to act as his spokesman. Nevertheless, the people are seldom dissuaded by this insubordination, the women must persuade and soothe, and should this not help either, then a battery of magical means is seized upon, to evoke mutual affection. However, if this still does not result in a union, both parties come together and mutually reimburse the outlay of shell money. With this ceremony the matter is at an end.

If, however, the young couple are in agreement, then at their daily rendezvous the bridegroom brings the young girl presents, which she packs in her carrying basket, or he accompanies her to work in the gardens and works with her there. When this communication has gone on for several weeks and there is no danger that through unilateral or mutual aversion the projected union might come to nothing, the bridegroom begins to build a hut, helped by his relatives. When the house is ready, the relatives bring one or two fathoms of tabu, and hand them to the young couple. This ceremony is called lake kinalatn; that is, the house-warming.

In the evening the young couple go into the future dwelling for the first time, and the marriage is thereby completed. Further ceremonies no longer take place.

If the bride has been married before, the dissolution of the former marriage must be completed 32by repayment of the purchase price to the first husband or his relatives before she can undertake another marriage. The new suitor pays the stipulated price to the wife’s relatives, a small feast takes place, and the wife follows the husband to his hut without further ceremonies.

Old people say that in former times on an appointed day all the marriage candidates had to gather at a certain place. Here they were seized quite roughly by the older people and thrown on the ground, one on top of the other. Those who lay underneath had to bear the weight of those above, and not infrequently they sustained considerable injuries. Finally, coils of tabu were brought out, and laid on the living heap, whereupon the weight was considerably increased, and quite often several of those lying beneath were crushed to death. After the elders had feasted their eyes on this sight for a while, they called on the young men to stand up, and the latter then set off to their concealment in their forest where, as described above, they had to spend some time.

Today this custom, as far as I have been able to ascertain, is no longer practised, and the milder form described is carried out universally, with a few small changes.

Polygamy is permitted, although not generally practised. As a rule it is only the wealthier people who can allow themselves the luxury of multiple wives. This situation is viewed more from the business side, since the outlay that is coupled with maintaining several wives is richly compensated, because they have to work for the husband in the cultivations and thereby provide him with a financial income. One of the women, however, remains the favourite, as it were, and her jealousy not infrequently succeeds in making life so miserable for the other wives and the lord husband that for better or worse he reverts to monogamy for the sake of domestic peace. The individual wives have separate huts; there is no difference between the children of the different wives.

We also find here a remnant of the totemism so widespread in Melanesia. It is not expressed by certain animals or other objects being used as totems; here one has the two designations tavevet and tadiat, which literally mean ‘we’ and ‘they’, and express membership or non-membership of a certain group. All those who are of the same lineage call themselves tavevet among themselves, and may be related to one another in the female or the male line; for them all others are tadiat. Relatives who are of the same lineage on the maternal side, may never marry each other.

As soon as a native enters a family as a son-in-law, there arise for both parties quite particular rules in the mutual relationships. A transgression of these strict rules would be regarded as a major break of tradition and punished accordingly. The son-in-law and parents-in-law address each other as nimuan; they never call each other by their usual names, and to do so is especially forbidden to them. This goes to the extent that if, for example, the father-in-law is called tokapiaka = to - breadfruit, or tolama = to - coconut, two not uncommon names, the nimuan henceforth does not designate the breadfruit as kapiaka nor the coconut as lama, but uses other names. The nimuan may indeed offer each other betel nuts and chew betel with each other; it is, however, strongly forbidden to them to eat or to see each other when one or other party, the parents-in-law or the son-in-law, is taking their meal. Likewise it is forbidden to the son-in-law to step into the dwelling of his in-laws. The daughter-in-law, after the marriage is completed, stands in exactly the same position with her in-laws.

Part of these rules also covers the brothers-inlaw (maku). They may not address one another by name, nor sleep in the same house. On the other hand they can visit one another in their dwellings and take meals together. After the wedding the sister is no longer permitted to associate or speak with her brother, she never pronounces his name, but designates him by another word.

This institution can lead to quite peculiar situations for white people, who are not familiar with it. I recall a case where father-in-law and son-in-law were arraigned together; I was functioning in the capacity of assistant magistrate, and although I was aware that a native can never be induced to say his own name until another native has been called to say that name, the prohibition that existed in this case was unknown to me at the time. It was not possible, neither for the magistrate nor for the assistant magistrate, to establish the names of both delinquents. Moreover, both people were from Blanche Bay, and had no acquaintances on Kerawara in the Duke of York group, where the court was then in session. All entreaties and all threats were in vain; it only remained to send the bailiff by boat to Blanche Bay to collect several natives who were not prevented by usages and customs from naming both of them. From this situation I got to know the ramifications.

If the marriage, as previously mentioned, can, for some petty reason, be dissolved as simply as the wife’s family returning the purchase price to the husband, there are, however, a large number of examples of marriages that are ended only through the death of one or other party. Many of these marriages can also be held up to our civilised concepts as ideal. The wife, who must lead an existence very full of burden during the marriage, remains faithful to her husband, raises the children, works in the gardens, carries heavy loads to the market, and makes a great effort continually, from morning to night, for the benefit for her husband. She is no less proud, when through her 33providing, the husband is in a position to lay by shell money, and the husband for his part shows his gratitude by handing over a small part of the earned shell money as hers. Indeed it can happen that before his death he may express his gratitude by giving her a larger quantity of his shell money as a present. The shell money acquired in this way does not go into the tabu house of the head of the family, who has nothing to do with it at all, but the wife stores it in the tabu house of her own family, and when she dies it goes to them or to her children. The husband also shows his gratitude to a good wife by drawing her into all consultations, and seldom undertaking anything without first obtaining her approval.

The birth of a child is always an important occasion. When the pregnant woman feels the first contractions, the female friends and particularly the older, more experienced women, are quickly summoned to assist at the birth. The pregnant woman kneels down and embraces one of the house posts, the older woman assisting takes her place behind her. With both hands she massages downwards on both sides, over the abdomen of the pregnant woman, thereby pressing the foetus downwards. Seldom does the delivery proceed unfavourably for the young mothers.

The birth of the first child, especially when the wife belongs to a chief or a wealthy man, does not go by without gifts of tabu and other solemnities. Some days before the birth, relatives and friends of the future father bring gifts of all kinds, in recent times especially items traded from the Europeans. When the wife feels that her delivery is near, the female relatives of the husband assemble in the dwelling; that is, those who are married and have children. The woman in labour lies in the open air on a coconut mat. In order that the birth goes smoothly and is not influenced by evil spirits and witchcraft, the sorcerer (tena papait) obviously dares not be absent, and practises his craft most earnestly, in a grave manner. From his little basket he takes a small pouch of burnt coral lime, murmurs his incantations over it and holds a little of the contents between thumb and forefinger, blowing it into the air in all directions. Evil spirits in the vicinity are scared away by this. The lime pouch is then handed over to the women who rub the body of the woman in labour with the blessed contents, whereby all possible magic bestowed by evil spirits to complicate the birth loses its power. However, since the enchanted lime alone has insufficient power to drive off all evil spirits, the sorcerer brandishes magical bunches of plants in all directions, among which the particularly potent green-yellow-red striped species of Dracaena (pal akada) should not be missing, nor the rapidly murmured incantations. All that the woman in labour eats or drinks is likewise enchanted before use.

After the birth of the child, it is handed over to one of the women of the husband’s family; or if none is present, then the closest female relative of the young mother takes her place. Should the newborn be a boy, the assembled women intone the far-reaching cry ‘Hüh! Hüh!’; if it’s a girl they cry, ‘Huh! Huh!’. This cry attracts all married women; young girls, however, must remain outside the enclosure and dare not enter the compound. Meanwhile the closest relative of the woman in childbirth has cut through the umbilical cord with a sharp shell or a sharp piece of bamboo, and smeared the wound with the leaf sap of Erythrina indica. After the birth the mother is carried into the hut by the women. The spouse then presents tabu to the women who have assisted at the delivery.

If the birth has taken place in the early morning or before noon, the relatives of the young mother hurry along, to hand over a gift of tabu to the father; it consists of a piece of tabu 1 to 5 metres long. If the birth occurred in the afternoon or evening, the gift-giving ensues the following day. The day after that, the spouse repays by distributing betel nuts and pepper among all the wife’s relatives, and smaller pieces of tabu. The newborn child is now brought forth and admired on all sides. Meanwhile a little heap of fragrant and magical herbs has been piled up and set alight. Nearby lie, if the baby is a boy, all the tools that he will need in future life: a club (aul kubar), feathered spear, slingshot and stones, bamboo knife, digging stick, and so on; if the baby is a girl, a rain cape (kukuwui), a little basket with betel and areca nuts, a little piece of tabu and a bamboo knife are laid down. The heap of fragrant herbs is lit, and a woman swings the baby through the smoke and says, ‘Grow strong! Earn a lot of tabu! Throw the spear and sling the stone!’ Should the baby be a girl, the exhortation goes, ‘Grow big, grow strong for work, so that you can till the fields!’ A sorcerer must be there of course; he extends his hand in the smoke and takes a little ash between his fingers, then rubs the baby’s eyes, ears, temples, nose and mouth with it, so that the infant is strongly charmed against evil spirits and witchcraft. On the same occasion the child is given a name. As a rule the father chooses the name of a relative or friend, and gives this person a piece of tabu. However, if he accedes to the special wish of a male or a female neighbour to name his offspring after him or her, then the latter gives a small gift of tabu to the child. They are not fastidious in the conferring of names: any object out of the three natural kingdoms is chosen, any deed that has already been undertaken, any event that coincides with the birth. All male names are prefixed by the masculine article to, all female names by the feminine article ia; a boy is called, for example, to kaur (the bamboo (m)), a girl ia kaur (the bamboo (f)); to vinau (the creeper (m)), 34ia vinau (the creeper (f)), and so on. On about the tenth day, when the navel has healed, the baby’s head is shaved and rubbed with lime. On this occasion those people who had given the baby’s father a gift before the birth, assemble and receive reimbursement in the form of shell money. Betel is distributed and the newborn is admired.

The first born, be it a boy or a girl, is provided with all possible delicacies by the closest relatives of the father during the subsequent four to six months; the best taro and yams, the best fish, and the finest foods are brought as a gift to the suckling infant every day. But when this period has passed, the father pays for it with shell money and betel.

The described celebrations take place only at the birth of the first child, all other births are attended by smaller ceremonies.

Girls who become pregnant without being married, first of all attempt to expel the foetus. Should this not succeed, then at the time of delivery they take themselves off into the forest, where the birth takes place without any assistance. The newborn child is killed immediately after the birth and buried without ceremony.

Otherwise the young mother is quite proud of her infant. When she has recovered from the effects of the delivery, usually after a few days, she takes her newborn about everywhere with her. A square of bark cloth is folded together, laid over breast and shoulders, and knotted across the back. The infant is enveloped in the folds so that only part of the tiny head peeps out and a little leg or two dangles. Besides this burden, however, the mother, as usual, still carries the basket filled with heavy loads, by means of a carrying band around her head. In the gardens she prepares a spot for the little one under a shady bush, and folds a mat over the baby to protect it from flies and other insects. Cleanliness is not seen as essential; if the mother happens to come to the beach or to a spring, a few handfuls of water are poured over the child and the worst dirt washed off. Where water is hard to come by, a few drops from the drinking shell must suffice for the daily toilet.

The mother breastfeeds the child until it can walk. At the same time it must get used to other forms of food from very early on: taro, yams, bananas, and so on, are chewed by the mother, formed into tiny balls, and pushed into the baby’s mouth. This diet agrees well with infants if they are particularly healthy, and they appear round and plump, to the great joy and happiness of the mother, who is very proud of this. The father does not have much to do with infants; outside the house the infant is always given over to the mother, in the dwelling the lord father condescends most graciously to carry his child about for a short time in his arms, but there is never a display of special love or affection. As the child grows, it follows its mother until about the sixth or eighth year, but a boy will follow his father more as he gets older. Then in most cases the boy will shift to his uncle’s compound, if such is available, and from then on actually belongs to him. Girls stay with the mother up until their marriage; even as small children they must be helpful in the gardens, and at eight or ten years they already carry heavy loads on their back. The boys help the uncle in his gardens, practise the various dances, and are proud when they are first accepted into the duk-duk or ingiet societies. From youth onwards they take pains to imitate the older people in looks and gesture as well as in behaviour, and a childlike, happy disposition or childlike boisterousness is basically foreign to them. A fourteen- or fifteen-year-old boy is already adult in his total appearance and behaviour. At this age his upbringing and education, insofar as as one can call it such, is complete; what he has not learnt up till now, he will not learn later either, when all his thoughts and aspirations are directed towards the needs of daily life. It is not uncommon for boys who were distinguished as being bright at an earlier age, to become apparently dull as the years progress. In the missionary schools it is frequently observed that children up to the age of twelve or fourteen learn quickly and easily, but with the onset of puberty they suddenly fall away and absorb nothing further.

At the death of a native the solemnities are no less numerous, their extent is, however, in accordance with the position that the dead person occupied during his lifetime. Chiefs, or those who held a similar rank, receive on their death the highest respect that one is in a position to give, whereby an honoured position is assured for the spirit of the 35dead man in the next world. Women and children are buried with less ceremony.

In the following, I will describe the interment of an a gala, as I witnessed it a few years ago. The person in question was a very old man who had enjoyed great respect over a wide area. He had been ill for a long time, and as it eventually became clear that he had only a few days, perhaps only a few hours, left, the great wooden drum (garamut) was sounded, and the signal was passed from compound to compound. The relatives streamed in from all sides, and the compound was soon full of men. The closest relatives sat in the hut, around the dying man, held his hand, touched his body, and murmured soothing words. Outside the hut the gathering women set up a loud lamentation; the rest of those assembled squatted on the ground, chewed betel nut and conversed in undertones.

After this had gone on for several hours, death finally came, and this event was immediately announced to the neighbourhood by drum signals. The wailing of the women increased, and a number of men joined in. In the meantime, the corpse was laid out on coconut matting in the hut. The death had taken place in the afternoon, and it was decided to bury the body the following afternoon. The drums sounded without interruption throughout the night, as did the lamentation of the women.

Early the following morning a low, upright frame was set up in front of the hut and decorated with coconut palm leaves and bright foliage. The corpse was then brought outside and arranged in a sitting position with the back against the above-mentioned frame. Men and women, close relatives, came forward to adorn the corpse in the traditional manner. Face and body were painted black, red and white; the head was adorned with a large plume of white cockatoo feathers and a headband; a broad necklace of cuscus teeth was tied round the neck; armlets and other jewellery were put on the corpse and bright Dracaena leaves and other strongly fragrant herbs were strewn around. The thumbs of the outstretched arms and the big toes of the outstretched legs were then tied together with a fine cord.

While this was going on, a group of men, women and children destroyed the gardens of the dead man, tore out taro and yam plants, knocked down stands of bananas, and felled a number of young coconut palms.

Meanwhile the lamentations of the women continued to ring out. Each newly arriving group raised a heart-rending cry of grief and intoned a lamentation in which the dead man was invoked, his passing mourned, and his praises sung in all manner of keys. After the arriving mourners had fulfilled their duty, they sat down in the crowd, chewed betel nut and chatted in muffled tones.

The men had meanwhile brought out the great coils of tabu from the tabu house of the deceased, who was a very rich man, and arranged them beside the corpse and on the frame behind him, so that the dead man was once more surrounded by all the family treasure. Then the well-known, loud cry of the tubuan4 sounded from the forest, a similar cry sounded from another direction – it was as if the forest were filled with it – and then a number of masked figures came leaping and springing from the bushes. A deep silence now reigned, the lamentation had ceased. With mighty leaps the tubuan danced round the corpse; with long-handled axes they hacked into the ground and into tree trunks round about, then suddenly they disappeared into the bush. Then the drum started up again and the lamentation began anew. Suddenly the call of the tubuan was heard again, and they came into view a second time, danced before the corpse to the accompaniment of the drums, and then sat down on the ground nearby.

The closest male relative then brought forward a coil of tabu, opened it, and laid it at the feet of the corpse. The tubuan then arose, performed another brief dance and placed themselves in a row opposite the corpse. A relative of the dead man then gathered up the open coil of tabu and distributed the shell money among the tubuan, who picked it up, danced again before the corpse and disappeared into the forest.

With this, the honouring of the dead man by the tubuan was concluded. However, there followed a further series of ceremonies which, in their way, were rather pathetic. It is the symbolic farewell from objects with which the dead man was occupied during his lifetime, or was in close connection with. The sea, on which he travelled so often during

36his fishing trips, approached (that is, a man brought seawater in a bamboo tube and poured it onto the ground in front of the dead man); the field which he had tilled and planted said its farewell by a man emptying out a basket full of soil; the fruits of the field and forest took their departure by betel nut, taro and other fruits being laid down. Sometimes the dead man’s canoe is brought out and the corpse placed in it briefly, in a sitting position; the paddle that the owner used during his life is placed alongside. Sometimes the canoe is used as a coffin and the body is buried in it. Years ago, in a village on the Varzinberg, I saw a body laid in state in a canoe, which was placed on a bamboo scaffold about 4 metres tall. In this case burial had been totally disregarded. This is, however, a rare event. The rule is burial in the ground.

During the previously described symbolic farewell ceremonies, the relatives have dug a grave. This is about 1.5 metres deep and corresponds with the body length of the dead man; it is dug either inside the hut of the dead man or in front of it.

The corpse is now fully decorated; that is, lime mixed with red earth is poured over it, lengths of tabu are bound round the neck, arms and legs, a larger quantity is laid alongside the corpse and buried with it. Then the dead man is wrapped in mats and tied in with lianas. Meanwhile an ear-splitting wail of lamentation is raised, in which all women especially join in at full volume. The men then lift the corpse and carry it to the grave, where two of them jump in to receive the body and position it in the cavity. There now arises a greater din than before; the men join with the women in a deafening wail, they lean over the grave apparently as if to follow the dead man into it; relatives drag them back, to prevent them from their intention; others scrape soil into the grave with their hands and feet, and only when the wild throng disentangles itself does one see that the grave has been filled in, in an incredibly short time.

After this paroxysm of grief, reaction sets in to some extent. Those assembled sit down round about, recuperate by chewing betel and then await, with the greatest peace of mind, the next honouring of the dead man, namely the distribution of shell money. This distribution can also take place before the burial of the corpse – no special rule appears to be observed. If the dead man is an uviana of great wealth, large amounts of shell money are distributed to those present. I have been present at burials where close on 2,000 fathoms of shell money were distributed. This too follows certain rules. The mourners usually sit in divisions, classified by sibs or families. The distinguished people, like the a gala, uviana and luluai, receive the greatest portion, often up to 5 fathoms. Then the remainder follow in descending order, so that several receive only a span length of tabu. The more who come to the distribution, the greater the fame of the dead man.

From the interment of the body in the grave until the following morning, the music of the great wooden drums continues unabated. This has the purpose of facilitating the entry of the spirit to Tingenataberan. Tingenataberan is a place that lies 37far to the east, where the departed souls go. As soon as the dead man is buried, the spirit, tulungiana, rises; however, it can only enter Tingenataberan at sunrise, and the drums must sound without interruption to support the wandering spirit on its way. This drum music is called tulatulai. At the rising of the sun all gaze intently towards the east; should a cloud stand before the rising heavenly body, this is a sign that the spirit is entering Tingenataberan. Here everything is in superabundance: tabu, bright-leafed Dracaena, loudly beating drums and continuous dancing and feasting. Before entry into Tingenataberan, the soul is asked by the spirit Tolumean, ‘Where is your tabu, where are the armlets that were given to you in the grave? How much tabu was distributed at your death?’ If the answer turns out to be satisfactory, nothing prevents the entry; if, however, it is not satisfactory, the soul is banished to Jakupia, after the spirit has ripped off its buttocks so that it becomes crippled and thereby identifiable. Jakupia is a wretched place, without festivities or dancing, without abundances of any sort.

Earlier on, the wealthy and distinguished were buried at sea in St George’s Channel. The ceremonies both before and after the sea burial were the same as I have described previously. The body was laid, amidst weeping and wailing, in a canoe and towed out to sea to be sunk with the canoe. This custom has been given up, as a result of the influence of the Christian missions, or is at least fast dying out.

As a sign of mourning the body is painted with a mixture of soot and oil. Close relatives blacken their entire body and renew the mourning colour daily; the further removed the degree of kinship, the lesser is the display of mourning decoration. The length of the mourning period also varies. Close relatives mourn for a year or more, more distant relatives only for a few weeks or a few days. Women have a particular sign of mourning, in which they make themselves exceedingly ugly; they smear their head with a thick ointment of oil, soot and earth, and use it to shape the individual strands of hair into approximately 3-mark-sized, flat, filthy plates, which are arranged over one another like scales. Such a filth- and soot-covered old woman belongs among the most repulsive things imaginable.

For natives of low standing, and for women and children, burial occurs with less ceremony, nor is the grieving and lamentation so pronounced as for the death of a wealthy or mighty person.

It is quite difficult to ascertain whether these lamentations and mourning customs correspond with the true feelings of the natives, or whether they are only exhibitions which the event demands. In many cases the latter is indeed the case; one can often observe a wife, after heart-breaking lamentation and copious tears, chewing betel at greatest leisure with her friends, chatting with them over inconsequential things, or laughing and joking with them. On the other hand I also know cases where the grief was deep and real. Men, who are by nature reserved, consider it unseemly to display their grief; 38nevertheless I have witnessed old men letting the tears flow down their cheeks when I have shown them photographs of long-dead sons or wives. Women apply less restraint on their feelings, and one frequently finds them grieving in an out-of-the-way spot in the forest, or in the gardens shedding copious tears for their dead. Widows, with whom one happens to come into contact, pour forth silent tears at the mention of their dead husband, and when it became known that I had the photograph of one or other of the dead, I was frequently begged to show it to the weeping person.

After a year or so, a special mark of honour is prepared for distinguished people, in which the skull of the dead man is exhumed, painted red and white, adorned with a plume of feathers and placed on an expressly erected rack. The tubuan and the duk-duk play a prominent role in this; they perform dances and organise ceremonies, and on a certain day the neighbourhood streams in, to receive gifts from the relatives, partly in tabu, partly in pigs, hens or crops. On this occasion the tribal treasure of tabu is openly displayed on a decorated, bamboo scaffold. Loloi (money in a coil) is ranged alongside loloi in a long row and beside this are heaped the pigs, hens and field produce intended as gifts (Meyer and Parkinson, Papua-Album, vol. I, plates 16-18).

One might postulate ancestor worship here. However, the natives have no concept of such a thing. The dead, whether ancestors or not, enjoy no veneration of any kind, neither do parts of the skeleton. The exhumation and painting of the skull, which I have previously described, is not bound up with exorcism or magical charms; the skull is for a moment the visible sign of the presence of the dead man, in whose honour the festival is held. The fact that one pays no especial reverence to it, is demonstrated by my being able to buy this skull for a trifle, without any difficulty, after the completion of the celebration.

I might mention here that in earlier times, according to the comments of several old natives, it had been the custom to bury alive one or more slaves or several wives with the body of the dead chief. The custom had disappeared with the arrival of the first colonising settlers, a good thirty years ago now. However, several older people in various districts have assured me that in their youth they had been present at such burials. I have no grounds for doubting this information. In Bougainville today this custom is still practised, or at least one or more slaves are killed in honour of the dead man. The idea on which this is based is that the souls of those sacrificed follow the dead man in the beyond, and serve him there. On the Gazelle Peninsula, varying quantities of shell money, as well as items of jewellery and weapons are laid in the grave with the dead man for this purpose. The custom still practised at the filling in of the grave, of leaning out over it with the ostensible intention of letting oneself be buried with the corpse, alludes to an earlier, now fortunately no longer existing custom, whereby close relatives freely followed the dead man into the grave. A particular incident of this kind is known to me; it took place in the inland district of Viviran in 1884. At the burial of a dead chief, one of his nephews leapt into the grave, or, which does not seem improbable to me, was shoved. There then arose an indescribable, wild confusion; some of those present scraped earth into the grave without stopping, others tried to prevent this and won the upper hand insofar as they succeeded in bringing the already partially buried person back into the daylight, although as a corpse. In the entanglement of a wrestling crowd of men, two older men were crushed to death as well, and a few died a short time later as a result of wounds received. In these inland districts, still little influenced by the settlers, many things may still happen that are unknown to us. But on the whole, I think that this custom has died out today, and is only recognisable still in the wild tumult and the efforts of the mourners in pretending to throw themselves into the grave.

Today, wherever north-eastern Gazelle Peninsula people have settled, they use a sea snail shell as money; its upper curvature is cut through, so that the individual pieces can be lined up on strips of rattan. This money is called tabu on the Gazelle Peninsula and diwarra in the Duke of York group. The sea snail from which this money is prepared is of the genus Nassa. The camelus variety of Nassa callosa is the most frequently used. Use of this snail shell, both as currency and as jewellery, is universal in most parts of New Britain, but also extends over a large part of New Guinea, although as far as is known, exclusively for the preparation of articles of jewellery. On the south coast of New Britain, in the regions east and west of Möwehafen not far from the South Cape, the snail shell likewise finds use as currency; here, however, it is prepared a little differently, in that the upper curvature is almost completely removed, and only a thin slice is used. The inhabitants of the Gazelle Peninsula use this preparation of the snail shells not as money, but only as raw material for the manufacture of ornamental items, as discussed later. The south coast inhabitants too, thread these shells on strips of rattan, seldom in lengths over 1 metre, and tie these to one another in bundles of varying size. In Möwehafen the snails are used in this form as means of tender, and called eddi, but also on the other hand used as material for the production of many items of jewellery.

The tabu of the Gazelle Peninsula is surrounded with dark mystery for many of its owners, and even 39this has of course added much to enhance its value. In the Duke of Yorks where the tabu was introduced from the Gazelle Peninsula opposite, there is no knowledge of the origin of the money in the districts around St George’s Channel and in the countryside around the Varzinberg; it is believed there that the money was brought to the people by spirits, and it is handled with a certain spiritual reverence.

Shrewd natives know how to exploit this in order to enrich themselves. I know of several such cases, which clearly illustrate this. A few years ago a rumour suddenly spread that a woman who lived in a village a few kilometres from my dwelling, possessed with the help of spirits the gift of quickly increasing tabu that had been handed over to her by the natives, so that the owners received it back doubled and tripled. Numerous natives, to whom this promised easy and effortless winnings, then deposited a wide range of sums with the wonder woman. Of course the spirit was not always in the mood for the task, it did not immediately increase the money paid in, but condescended only now and then to pay back the instalment with interest. Then too the depositor was given the most variable instructions, to make himself acceptable to the spirit, and when he did not observe these, repayment became very protracted. However, when patience was apparently at an end, first this one then that one was repaid their tabu with a handsome increase, and this then appeased the impatient ones and produced new clients. I warned in vain about the swindle, for I saw through it from the outset, and it was absolutely nothing other than a New Britain repetition of the Dachau bank swindle conducted by a local, Adele Spitzeder. For a long time my warnings were in vain, but finally those to whom the spirit had shown no blessing became impatient, and demanded in rage the repayment of their shell money. As Spitzeder refused, under all sorts of pretext, the administrative authorities had to mediate, and it then turned out that a considerable sum belonged to those swindled. But so firm was their faith, that even today very many natives do not want to believe the betrayal; indeed the cunning woman began the same manipulations soon thereafter in another district, with success; of course then to be severely punished by the authorities, upon which the helpful spirit made no further appearance.

On another occasion it was reported to me that on the plot of land belonging to a native whom I knew, there stood a tree from the top of which at certain times the spirits shook tabu onto the ground. Any person was allowed to gather this wonder-money, but beforehand he had to pay a certain sum of tabu to the owner of the tree, in this case a piece about a metre long. As a result of this information I went to the place, to see this wonder for myself. I could easily see that my presence was not very convenient for the owner, but nobody dared to turn me away. The wonder tree was a fairly large Ficus, and the ground round about was carefully cleaned. I found on the site not only the owner of the tree but also a number of natives who had taken their places early in the morning, and now intently awaited the tabu rain. On the day that I chose for my visit, the spirit had not been in a very free-giving mood. Now and then he had thrown individual snail shells from the top of the tree and those present had enough shells in total to produce a piece of tabu about 2 metres long. They were unprepared snails, such as are not found in this area, and this made it all the more mysterious. I remained there about an hour, and during this time about twenty snails fell to the ground here and there. It was quite clear that the snails had been put in the tree previously, but I could not immediately discover how it was made possible to allow them to fall individually, for in the transparent crown of the tree nobody was concealed, and in spite of the greatest scrutiny I could not discover any mechanisms. Several days later I discovered that the native in question, with several of his relatives, had bought a quantity of raw, unprepared snails from a white trader on the beach, who had brought them from Weberhafen, and they had paid a good price for them so as not to let news of the deal spread to other natives. The spirit was still active for some time, then he stopped dispensing his gifts completely; I also discovered that no really big benefit had been derived, the amount of tabu gathered up seldom equalling the admission fee. That the owner of the tree had a nice arrangement, I was certain. Then several months later I found out accidentally, through the talkativeness of one of the natives involved, how the affair had been set up. During the night the participants had tied individual leaves loosely together into little containers at the top of the easily climbed, many-branched tree, and laid a few snails in each one. As during the night there is very often total calm with no leaf stirring, the leaf containers retained their shape; however, as soon as the wind began to stir in the forenoon, the leaves sprang apart and their contents fell to the ground.

The natives on the north coast and Weberhafen of course never let themselves be caught by such a ruse. They know very well where the shell money comes from, even while telling their customers all kinds of fables about it. Each year, at the arrival of the southeast wind, these natives fit out canoes to undertake a journey of several months to the region at the foot of the volcanoes Father and South Son; often these voyages extend as far as the Willaumez Peninsula. Here they barter Nassa snails from the natives, indeed they themselves also fish in the shallow bays with muddy bottoms where the snails live. The Gazelle dwellers give this region the general name of Nakanai. 40

These Nakanai journeys are not exclusively for trading purposes; they frequently bear the character of raids, for when a native can take something from a weaker person without punishment or danger, he does so with relish. In Nakanai he knows that he is undisturbed, the imperial authority sits many kilometres away at Herbertshöhe and as a rule does not concern itself with matters that take place so far away. Also, no complaint reaches Herbertshöhe from Nakanai, and the native returning from his trading voyage is far too cunning to boast about how many gardens he has plundered during his absence, nor how many Nakanai people have been cannibalised. That the reciprocal commerce is not always friendly, is demonstrated by many spear wounds on the home-comers; it is equally certain that the ‘fatalities’ during the voyage indeed do not always have a natural cause.

I have had occasion to visit the Nakanai region several times, and the shy and fearful behaviour of the natives, combined with their constant preparedness with weapons, clearly shows that they do not exactly expect friendliness from visitors.

After the Nakanai voyagers have come home with the tabu obtained, the Nassa snails are prepared as previously described and threaded on rattan cords. This new money is inferior for a while, because it is not white. However, it gains a white shade over the course of time by scouring and bleaching.

When large quantities of tabu accumulate at a place, wheel-shaped coils of it are prepared, which can sometimes contain up to 500 fathoms or more of tabu. Such a coil is called loloi. As a rule it is covered with dry pandanus leaves and then wrapped round with a firm plaiting of strips of rattan. Such coils are opened only on very rare occasions and the contents distributed; they are, so to speak, the basic capital of the family to whom they belong.

Smaller sums are of course also kept as loloi, but these are opened and distributed at festivities, funerals and on other occasions. The old, wrapped loloi indeed also bear names, often the name of the uviana who put them aside long ago, or the occasion on which they were rolled up.

Shell money is not rolled up everywhere, but stored in baskets in the form of neat bundles laid together. This is the case in the St George’s Channel region, for example, where the money is not always so plentiful as in the areas lying further to the west. These bundles are called tutuqai, and are decorated by all kinds of snail shell and shellfish appendages, brightly coloured strips of rattan and the like.

Smaller sums up to 50 fathoms are kept in baskets, some fully threaded, others in sections of varied length.

In daily business the husband or the wife carries a small supply of tabu with them according to their circumstances, pocket money so to speak. Running expenses are met from this, and it cannot be denied that the ever-practical native possesses in tabu a currency which allows him not only to make quite small payments and outlays very conveniently, but also to accumulate the smallest earnings in order to set aside gradually quite a decent little sum from these savings.

For fixed sums there are certain names. A single snail shell is a vuana pal a tabu or palina; up to the number 5, the word palina is added to the number in question; for example, 5 snails are called a ilima palina. From 6 onwards, the individual snail shells are always counted in pairs, and one pair is called a tip. Six snail shells are therefore 3 pairs or a tip a nireit (a nireit is the designation for 3 when items are counted); 8 snail shells are 4 pairs or tip na ivat. The odd numbers up to 9, like the values up to 5, are named by appending to the number in question; for example, lavarua na palina (7), and lavuwat na palina (9). All quantities up to 38 are designated by tip if in pairs; for example, tip na arip (10 pairs), tip lavurua (7 pairs), tip na arip ma tip ilima (10 pairs plus 5 pairs = 30); if unpaired the preceding pair is designated, plus one. For example:

Forty snail shells are a waratuk or a dodo. Two waratuk are 1 bal (Matupi: a turu melmelikun); 2 bal are 1 papara, that is, a side, so-called because the length of the piece is reckoned from the middle of the chest to the fingertips of the outstretched arm, thus in many places it is also called a bogobogo, that is, the chest (on Matupi a leke, the length from the armpit to the opposite fingertips). Two papara are a pokono or 1 fathom. On Matupi 2 fathoms are called a vuna em-tabu, in Ralum a ura pokono, and 3 fathoms are utul a bal which in Ralum would be called about 0.75 fathoms. Three fathoms are a gaina; 10 fathoms are a tutuqu or arip; 20 fathoms are ura arip or ura tutuqu (Matupi = a kiga).

A full fathom contains therefore 320 individual snail shells; that is, a pokono = 2 papara = 4 bal = 8 waratuk = 160 tip.

For paying out larger amounts, the counting of individual snail shells stops and it is numbered only according to pokono or fathoms. One therefore seeks to profit by the counter being a man with short arms, while the recipients select a very long-armed one.

In counting larger sums, or when tabu is distributed among those present at certain ceremonies, it is quite amusing to observe the unconcern with which the payers throw great quantities of the 41highly valued money to the recipients, and with what indifference the latter let it lie undisturbed for quite a while and scarcely touch it, as if it goes against the innermost heart to pick the thing up. However, all this is only hypocrisy, for there is nothing in the world more dear to the heart of the native than tabu.

In the Duke of York group where the designations for counting are different from those on the Gazelle Peninsula, shell money (tabu or diwarra) is also counted differently:

There, greater lengths of diwarra are measured by the unit taben or 60; for example:

From the Duke of Yorks the diwarra has also found entry to parts of New Ireland opposite, but not in great quantities.

Tabu to the natives, then, represents our cash. In daily life it is the value standard for general trading, and in the markets one haggles and bargains over the value of goods on offer just as in our markets in Europe. If, for example, the supply of taro, yams, fish, and so on, is great, then the price drops; if there is short supply, the price rises. All payments in tabu are standard when it is a matter of financial reimbursement for goods supplied, or for a service rendered, or for an expression of respect; on the other hand again, the amount varies when it is a case of payments which bear the character of a fine or atonement. As it is written in our penal codes: ‘Punishment is by a fine from… Marks, and not exceeding … Marks etc.’ so also with the natives the size of the payment of tabu is measured according to the degree of culpability.

A native does not willingly dispense tabu if he does not have the prospect of recovering it, with interest, by any way possible. The apparent free giving at certain festivities is based as a rule on careful calculation, and whoever has much money, has numerous means of increasing it. The purchase of young maidens as future wives for the young men, the liberal feasts and celebrations at the time of the duk-duk and ingiet ceremonies are all calculated to turn a financial profit.

In the Duke of York group even today a domestic type of money is prepared, known by the name of pele. In trading there it is not used as money, but is the medium by which tabu, called diwarra here, is bartered from the natives of the Gazelle Peninsula. On the Gazelle Peninsula itself the pele is never used as real money; it is used to some extent for the preparation of certain items of adornment; however, the greatest part goes from the Gazelle Peninsula to Nakanai, where pele is very highly treasured, and is used as a means of exchange in purchasing the tabu snail shell (Nassa), so highly valued on the Gazelle Peninsula. The pele consists of small, circular discs about 4 millimetres in diameter. These discs are made from various shellfish and marine snails. The manufacture is the task of the women. First of all, the snails or shellfish are broken up into suitable, small pieces. By means of a small stone these are prepared to the point where they approximate the desired disc shape. A small hole is then bored through the centre of the disc with a drill. Irregularities on both surfaces are removed by rubbing the small plate on a stone, with sand and water, and the disc is then threaded onto a loop of fibrous cord. In earlier times the rim of the little disc was again carefully ground off after threading, so that it was completely smooth. In recent times, where demand has grown, one is no longer so painstaking; the threaded discs are again worked with a stone chisel and prominent excrescences are removed where possible, but careful smoothing of the margins no longer occurs. Older strings therefore differ from the more recent in that they feel polished, whereas the more recent fabrications are mostly rough. Individual shell cords are usually knotted into bundles of ten and are traded in this form. Length of the cords varies; older cords were up to 25 centimetres long, more recent strings are seldom over 20 centimetres, usually less.

While threading the individual discs, care is taken to thread those of one shade together, and among the colours dark-violet strings are differentiated as kalakalang, whitish strings as piir or mui and reddish-orange coloured strings as biga. These latter, because they are less common, have a somewhat higher value; the white and the dark violet shell have the same value.

Although pele is prepared on all the islands of the small group, there exists, nevertheless a certain division of labour. On the main island of the Duke of Yorks the individual small plates are roughly prepared, to be drilled and fashioned into round discs on the smaller islands of Mioko, Mualim, Utuan, Kerawara and Kabokon. In earlier times, before the arrival of white people, certain families had the privilege of coming to the Duke of York group to exchange pele for tabu. The white pele went especially to areas on the St George’s Channel, the bluish and dark pele on 42the other hand mainly to the north coast of the Gazelle Peninsula.

The preparation of this small disc money is, in any case, a skill that has been transplanted from New Ireland to the Duke of Yorks; the money still found today in New Ireland consists of similar small discs, which are prepared from different materials in the various regions.

From everything that has been said up till now about these natives, it is stressed that their total thoughts and endeavours are directed to the accumulation of tabu or shell money. No rendering of service, be it ever so small, remains unpaid for; when a native makes a gift, it indeed demonstrates his goodwill, but he definitely expects an equivalent return, preferably in the form of shell money. He accordingly devises various ways and means by which he can put himself in possession of the highly coveted tabu.

One of these is called vuvue or vuvuei and consists of goods being distributed that are then repaid at an organised feast appropriate for this. Only well-off natives can permit this, because not insignificant costs arise. The course of events is as follows. A native distributes all kinds of gifts to the people in his neighbourhood. Since the arrival of the white people these goods consist of merchandise like knives, spades, cotton material, belts, tobacco, pipes, and so on; in olden times foods of all kinds, garden produce, spears, clubs, decorative items, and so on, were distributed. The recipient in question then knew that in time he would have to make payment for this. When the general day for payment came, the donor erected a small, carefully made hut, upon which he had expended his utmost artistic ability. The ceiling of the hut consists of a painted arch called popo, hence the entire building is called pal na popo or pal na vuvuei. Its construction exhibits no small artistic ability. A bamboo frame the same size as the arch is thickly covered with bamboo battens about 2 centimetres wide, wound round with mal (bark material). This winding has the purpose of holding fast the lime mortar that is now put on. This lime mortar is carefully laid on and smoothed with a small piece of bamboo. When the mortar is dry, the white surface is painted with red and black colours, and the artist creates all kinds of designs to the best of his ability; for the most part he stylises human figures, concentric circles, zigzags and wavy lines. The house posts are often carved, often wound round with flowers; the sides of the little house are open. Between the supports a low trellis is attached, 30 to 50 centimetres high, and this too is painted and decorated with entwined flowers and carvings, mostly bird forms. Around it runs a border, about a metre wide, of bright leaves and buds, so that the hut rises as if from a flowerbed. The roof too is not forgotten; the edges are carefully supported and hung with garlands of white feather down; from the peak of the roof or its ends are raised long sticks decorated with feathers or flowers, and red hibiscus, multicoloured Dracaena and croton branches are placed among the roofing material. The whole small building makes a very fine, pleasing impression, especially when the flowers and garlands are fresh and blooming. On the floor of this hut banana fronds are laid, on which a sumptuous meal is spread, consisting of baked fish and hens, roasted and scraped taro tubers over which is sprinkled not only grated coconut, but also milk pressed out of the grated coconut kernel. On long, high frames beside the hut hang numerous bundles of bananas and at the foot of the frames are laid husked coconuts for drinking (kulau), and great heaps of sugar cane.

On the appointed day, advertised to the entire neighbourhood, men, women and children stream in in great numbers. Each one is festively decorated. By village or by family, dances are presented, firstly by the women then by the men; the festive atmosphere is not troubled by often five or six different groups dancing at the same time, accompanying their dance with loud singing, each group striving to drown out the others. The host of the feast stands to one side, as though he were totally indifferent to the whole thing. However, when the dance is completed, each group approaches him and and those who had previously received any item, lay their payment in the form of shell money at his feet, usually a little over the actual value. And so it goes on, until all have paid. The feast-giver observes closely that each one carries out his payment according to the gift, he also notes those who do not pay and later makes sure that his due is provided. It is quite astonishing how much acuteness of memory the natives apply to these events on the day. Although often several hundred have to make their payment, none is forgotten, no matter how small the individual item that was given previously, and which now must be paid for according to its greater or lesser value in tabu.

On completion of the payments, the titbits arranged for display in the pal na popo are distributed, and likewise the fruits hanging from the frames, and general feasting ensues.

The feast-giver usually makes a handsome profit, and in so doing increases his tabu wealth quite significantly. I know of one case in which the outlay was about 300 fathoms of tabu (monetary value about 750 Marks), the income 420 fathoms of tabu (about 1,050 Marks), a profit that must seem particularly high to a native.

Today things are much simpler. The vuvuei has remained the same in principle and the festivities still take place, but the painstaking building of the pal na popo or pal na vuvuei is already beginning to slip markedly into oblivion. For the most part 43they are now simple, undecorated huts, not to be compared with the really pretty and tastefully decorated little houses that were erected about twenty years ago for these events, and in which the organiser justifiably took great pride.

The dance presented on the occasion of a vuvuei is called kulau; it consists of set figures with precise body movements, and is danced only at this event.

It often happens that in time of difficulty, someone lends shell money to another. If a wealthy man borrows a certain amount of tabu from another of his equals, perhaps because he does not want to break a complete roll of tabu, or in order to complete one, the lender regards this as a favour and demands no interest. At the repayment the borrower puts on a small feast to express his appreciation for the kindness done. In all other cases the lender calculates interest, at quite a high level. For example, if a native, on the death of a relative, borrows tabu from his neighbour to distribute among those present, he must pay about 50 per cent for it: the natives calculate that for every ten lengths of tabu borrowed, fifteen lengths must be repaid to the lender. On other transactions as a rule 20 per cent is calculated; that is, for every five lengths of tabu the borrower must repay six. The time period plays no role; if the loan lasts one year or ten, the interest remains the same.

Another way of obtaining tabu, was by a game that was still evident at the time of my arrival in the archipelago in 1882, but which has not been practised for many years now. A framework was prepared from thin strips of bamboo, in the form of a large rooster that appeared quite lifelike when it was thickly oversewn with feathers (fig. 14). On the underside the framework had an opening wide enough to put over the upper body of a man. Three or four youths masked themselves in this way and then went from dwelling to dwelling presenting dances at each place, for which a piece of tabu was presented to them. However, since school attendance was neglected through such activities, the native mission teachers banned the game.

Fishing with traps plays a not insignificant role on the north coast of the Gazelle Peninsula. In Blanche Bay and at its entrance as well as eastwards and westwards from Cape Stephens, this method of capture is used. In individual spots in the Duke of Yorks as well, fish-trap fishing has become established, but not to the same extent as in Blanche Bay.

The traps either float on the surface, firmly anchored to the sea floor, or they are sunk to the bottom. The former, a wup and a widam, are used exclusively for catching a certain fish, urop, or with the article: a urop to be exact, which periodically appears in great schools on the surface, and is highly prized as a delicacy by the natives. It must not be missing from a feast; those who can, buy the fish as a particularly fancied food, and willingly pay a price that must be regarded as relatively high by natives, since for a full-grown specimen it generally amounts to 1 Mark. On the table of the settlers the urop is a welcome course.

In the sunken traps, considerably smaller in size than the former, and called a wup na tatakia, all kinds of reef fishes that live at the bottom of the sea or on the coral reefs are caught; the bright, varied contents of these smaller fish-traps are, as a rule, the delight of ichthyologists, and also supply the kitchen with many valuable contributions.

The wup in its completed form has the shape of a large balloon and is somewhat wider at one end than the other. The manufacture requires considerable skill, and great patience and time. First of all mature bamboo canes are cut in a suitable place in the forest, split into long strips about 4 to 5 millimetres wide and 2.5 to 3 metres long, and the edges and insides carefully scraped and smoothed. These lengthwise strips, which form the outer body of the fish-trap, are called pal a wup (pal = house); wider strips are similarly prepared for different use. From the outer, hard bark of a type of rattan, thin strips are cut, 2 to 3 millimetres wide, which are very supple and serve as bindings in the later stages of manufacture.

First of all the inner part of the trap is made. This consists of about ten to twenty bamboo strips, 1 to 1.5 centimetres wide and 2 to 2.5 metres long, according to the size of the fish-trap. These lengthwise strips, pal a bul, are attached at about two-thirds of their length to a small bamboo ring, about 15 to 25 centimetres in diameter, and the ring is closed with a net-like wickerwork of fine bamboo strips; this ring with its mesh is called aubene 44(= net). The individual strips, pal a bul, are now attached at both ends to bamboo rings, one of which forms the upper end, through which the fish get into the trap; the lower end is of course similarly open, but serves less as an entrance to the trap. The upper end, about 50 to 60 centimetres in diameter, and the lower, about 40 centimetres in diameter, are now prepared particularly carefully. They are the same as each other in arrangement; the pal a bul are attached to the outermost ring, and there follows a thick, funnel-shaped wicker-work, pal vavatur, approximately 15 to 20 centimetres wide, consisting of bamboo strips about 1 centimetre wide, then a wicker-work of narrower strips, pagal a tit. The rest of the length of the pal a bul remains free and without mesh, and fish that enter through the openings easily succeed in reaching the interior by pushing aside the sticks, but cannot swim out again because the staves do not yield from the inside outwards; the wicker-work, aubene, prevents the fish from passing through the fish-trap along its length; once in the funnel-shaped corridor the fish for better or worse must pass into the interior of the fish-trap through the easily yielding staves, pal a bul. To strengthen the upper or trap end of the fish-trap, a round collar of rattan and bamboo strips, about 3 centimetres thick, is laid on the inner rim, and the entire wicker-work is tied fast onto this; the ring, a pulpul bat, also serves for fastening the plaited rattan cords, a virvir by which the fish-trap is attached to the float. To the lower end is fastened a long, thin rattan cord, lal, used in raising the fish-trap from the water into the canoe to remove the possible catch; this end is provided with a cross-form wicker-work, kakatua, by which the individual staves of the fish-trap achieve a firmer binding. The outer covering of the fish-trap is formed from bamboo strips, pal a wup, lying densely over one another, laid over rings of varying width that give the fish-trap its external form, and are firmly attached to them by means of narrow rattan strips, pidikai. These rings, made from bamboo strips, are of two types: broad rings, loko, to give the fish-trap greater firmness, and narrow rings, piai, which, secured with the pal a wup, form the real shell of the fish-trap.

Various accessories belong to such a net, namely the float or buoy, to which the fish-trap is attached, the anchor rope, and the anchor. The float or buoy, babau, consists either of a bundle of firmly tied bamboo canes about 4 to 5 metres long, or a wooden float usually made from the inner wood of the breadfruit tree, which is not attacked by the boring clam; in the latter case the 4 to 5 metre long wooden buoy has a deep, broad indentation at one end, kala ta dokop, to which the wup is attached by means of the virvir. In the middle, the buoy has a further indentation, kokobot, which serves to receive the anchor rope, vinau; the latter is wound round the buoy and secured to it in a particular manner, called paraparik.

The anchor rope, vinau is made from lengths of rattan; usually three to four of them are wound round one another and held in place by wrapping with fine strips of rattan about 10 centimetres apart; the wrapping is called gogo. The anchor ropes are often of great length, occasionally up to 300 metres long if the wup needs to be anchored in deep water; the anchor ropes for the widam, which resemble the wup in form but are less solidly constructed because they are laid in lesser depths, are correspondingly shorter.

The anchor, vat (= stone), is a conical rattan basket; the securing head, kiki na vat, about 75 centimetres in diameter, is thick cane wickerwork on which coral blocks are piled into a conical heap. Then the rattans radiating out from the anchor head are bent upwards and these vatutia are secured with rattan rings, vat a lil, running round and round, and a strong loop, kol, is formed at the upper end.

When all is ready, several bamboo floats, goakara, are attached above, and to one another. On this are placed the anchor and the anchor ropes, the latter wound into great coils. The completed fish-trap is placed in a canoe, and the fisherman sets out, buoys in tow, to the place appointed for laying the fish-trap. The fisherman, by using familiar landmarks, can reach the exact spot, whose depth he knows. Having reached the spot, the anchor rope is secured to the ring of the anchor, which can be be carefully lowered. As soon as it has touched bottom, the upper end of the anchor rope is secured to the buoy and the fish-trap is joined on. In order to recognise the site of the fish-trap, a young sapling or a stick tied with brushwood is set up on the buoy. This sign, au anai is visible from afar, and every owner of a fish-trap recognises his property by this.

From land the owner maintains a good lookout, to note when fish go into the fish-trap; since the traps often lie 3 to 4 kilometres from the beach, a good eye is required to spot the fish gliding in.

The fish-traps which are sunk to the sea floor, wup na tatakia, are considerably smaller, about 1 metre long, and more cylindrical in shape. All kinds of bait are laid inside, and by diving they are set in position on the coral reef. A thin anchor rope, kuika made from interwoven lianas, extends from the fish-trap to the surface, and a small float attached to the upper end indicates the position of the fish-trap.

The completion of a deep-sea fish-trap, wup, with its accessories, is the occasion for a small feast. The women bring the necessary taro, yams, bananas and coconuts down to the beach and prepare them there, beyond the bounds of the fishing place. On this site, to which women are forbidden 45entry, stand the spacious huts in which the fishing equipment and canoes are stored. On the whole, women are not allowed to have anything to do with the preparation of fishing equipment; but it is permissible for them to carry the heavy coils of rattan, from which the anchor ropes are prepared, from inland to the seashore. It is forbidden for women even to touch the completed fish-trap and its accessories, because this might bring about an unfavourable outcome, and every catch could be spoiled. During the preparation of fish-traps and accessories the men avoid the women and have no sexual relations with them. Before its immersion, the fish-trap and its accessories are the subject of all kinds of sorcery, which has the purpose of bringing about a good catch. To the accompaniment of the murmuring of magic spells, the fishtrap is painted with red ochre mixed to a pulp with the sap of a particularly magical tree. This is called ramarama. Besides this, magical herbs are placed in the fish-trap and during this procedure a man skilled in magic murmurs luck-inducing incantations over the sea and over all the fishing equipment, which will not only invoke an abundant catch but also plead for calmness of wind and sea, so that the anchor rope does not break and the fish-trap be carried off. On no account should an unclean pig approach the fishing site on the beach, and similarly, the preparers of the equipment must abstain from any contact with a pig, and from eating pork, since this would totally thwart the success of the fishing. This superstition is so strong that, for example, the offering of pork for sale in the vicinity of the fishing site is not permitted, nor the transport of a pig in a canoe. A fishing site is given up once and for all should an enemy malevolently throw pig offal, entrails, and so on, into it, an offence that, if discovered in earlier times, would have been punished by death.

Catching fish is carried out in many kinds of ways besides fish-traps, however. Methods vary with the different areas of the coast, and are dependent in many ways on local conditions. A quite widespread type of fishing is by means of pakapakat and vinot which is used along shallow stretches of shoreline to catch a particular fish, called karua by the natives. The pakapakat is a net about 1.5 metres deep, provided with floats on the upper edge and sinkers along the lower edge; the vinot consists of two, crossed-over bamboo canes that form a wide angle. Inside this angle a triangular net is spread. If a school of karua appears in the shallows, two men go into the water with the pakapakat and place it so that the fishes’ way of retreat to the open sea is cut off. Those carrying the vinot then position themselves in knee-deep water, one vinot always abutting its neighbours, thus forming a broad arc. At a given signal, the men with the pakapakat make a noise and the terrified fish jump, describing broad arcs above the surface, into the vinot held before them.

For catching the fish tatalai which stays in great schools in shallow water close to the beach at certain times of the year, they use long baskets woven 46from coconut palm leaves. These are held just above the surface by men wading up to their waists and standing closely together. One or two men then scare the fish, which leap into the baskets. The method, like the baskets used, is called watar.

Net fishing is universal, and the natives show great dexterity in the making of the nets that are called by the general name ubene or, with the article, a ubene. The ubene are variously named according to the type. Lal are the big nets which as a rule belong to an entire village or community. They are up to 1.5 metres deep and are fitted at the lower edge with sinkers and at the upper edge with floats or buoys. Through the entire upper edge runs a rope as thick as a finger, with free ends, tulu. To use it, the lal is taken to sea in one or more canoes, depending on its length. They carefully try to cut the fish off from the open sea, and surround them with the net; once this has been achieved, the fishermen pull both ends to shore by means of the tulu, and, with the net, the enclosed fish. In earlier times they fished at the beach with a type of very fine-meshed net for a fish barely 3 centimetres long, that arrived from time to time, known as ainanga, and also prized as a delicacy by the settlers. Since the introduction of mosquito nets by the white people, these have been used for catching the small fish.

Small, funnel-like containers, ungut, usually the length of a hand, with an upper opening of 5 to 10 centimetres are prepared from the thorny branches of the rattan plant. The rows of thorns are positioned in such a way that their sharp barbs are directed inwards. A piece of bait is fastened on the floor of the funnel, and the apparatus is then placed between stones on the reef. Fish coming headfirst into the funnel are caught by the hooks and cannot get out.

The fish spear, padik, with two or more prongs, is recognised but not widely used, however. Hook-and-line fishing too is not significant. The earlier, native fishhook, qeo, has now totally disappeared; I recollect having seen it quite rarely in earlier years. Wherever line fishing is carried out today, European equipment is used. The original fishhooks were manufactured from the bones of a certain fish, and were very primitive; from the small significance of line fishing, the hook has never been developed or improved.

In some places great stretches of shallow water are enclosed with coconut palm fronds; at certain intervals wide openings are left, and are closed after a certain time. Fish which have entered at full tide are easily caught at low water.

Poisoning of fish, or more accurately stupefying them, is well-known in certain places; for example, on the island of Matupi. The technique is called aniboko. The roots of a certain liana, wun, are crushed, and poured into the stomach of smaller fish, caught previously. These are then sunk at short distances apart, and the big fish that swallow the bait fall into stupefaction, which brings them up to the surface, where they become an easy prey to the waiting fisherman in his canoe.

A type of prawn found in rivers, named kidama by the natives, is caught with fine-meshed nets.

All fishing is the men’s work; women cannot be involved with catching fish, nor in the preparation of the various equipment. Modern times have, however, brought about a change, and one can now observe women knotting fishing nets.

Turtle fishing is carried out everywhere, yet nowhere so systematically as by the inhabitants of the north-east Gazelle Peninsula on the extreme western outposts, from the island of Urar to the islands of Masava and Masikonápuka. Although there are turtles year-round, the real fishing season is limited to the period of the south-east wind, because the sea is too stormy in the north-west season. Usually a great number of vessels all set off at once on the hunt, and the provisioning of these with food is the job of the women. They also provide each vessel with square pandanus mats, from which the men can quickly erect a protective roof when necessary. The men prepare the nets needed for the expedition; these are from 20 to 30 metres long and 1 to 1.5 metres deep. The lower edge is weighted with stones and shells as sinkers, and a thick rope is drawn through the top row of mesh. These wide-meshed nets made from thick fibres are obtained from the island of Uatom and from the villages on Cape Livuan. Turtle hunting begins as soon as they reach the vicinity of Cape Lambert; but the real hunting grounds lie much further southwards, where uninhabited sandy areas of beach extend for a great distance. According to long-standing custom the hunting ground is divided between the participants from the different districts. Capture is carried out in various ways, but always in relatively shallow water or on the reef, where the turtles cannot escape by diving. When they sight a turtle whose location requires capture by net, they lower this into the water and try to surround the creature as quietly as possible. If this is successful, the net is quickly pulled more and more tightly, and the natives standing in the water seize the prey and lift it into the vessel with the help of their comrades. By careful stalking they can also successfully surprise the creatures feeding in shallow water, pounce on them and secure them as previously described. Turtles encountered on the high seas are caught as a rule by a skilfully thrown spear. Capture of the creatures during the mating season is very easy; natives maintain that this takes place on the sea floor, and that afterwards both animals rise to the surface. It should be very easy to capture them in this situation; the fishermen simply swim up to them, take hold of them 47and throw them into the canoe. Very many turtles are also caught on the beach where they are surprised during egg-laying. The natives say that the turtles dig a hole about 40 centimetres deep and 15 centimetres wide in the sand with their front flippers, a few species also using their heads for this. When the hole is ready, the creature puts the rear portion of its body in it and in a short time lays a considerable number of eggs, 100 or more. After about ten days the young turtles break out of the eggs, dig their way through the covering of sand to the daylight, and seek the sea. Both species of Chelonia are caught as well as the leathery turtle (Sphargis coriacea). The flesh of the two former is very tasty, and the shell of Chelona imbricata is a valuable item of trade. The flesh of Sphargis is less favoured.

When a sufficient number of turtles has been harvested, the hunting party turns for home. During the expedition only the speared or otherwise killed animals are consumed; the living turtles are tied by their front and back flippers and brought home. On the men’s arrival after weeks of absence, a great feast is put on, for which some of the harvested animals are provided for roasting. Small areas are fenced in shallow water for that part of the catch that will be slaughtered later, and the secured animals are placed inside.

Canoe building on the Gazelle Peninsula is to some extent a monopoly of the natives of the small island of Uatom (Man Island). Vessels obtained from there are recognisable by the prows fixed to both ends, and are designated by the name kakala. Vessels are also obtained from the Duke of York group but are inferior, however, and come in two types, recognised as mut and pongpong. The general name for a canoe is waqa or uaqa; usually the word is heard in combination with the article a. The actual body of the canoe is usually produced from the wood of the iting (with the article a iting), which is really soft and therefore easy to work with. However, in sea water it is quite durable and does not easily crack or fracture. Small imperfections in the wood, which let in water, are packed with the pounded kernel of the tita. An obliquely rising prow is fastened to both ends. In the kakala the prow is doubled, as in figure 15.

The long prow is called bakabakan, the lower one bitonomarum. The mut canoe obtained from the Duke of Yorks has only the longer prow, not the shorter point behind it. The prow of the pongpong is shorter and shaped like a hook, bending inwards (fig. 16). These three different types of canoe are therefore easily distinguished by the shape of their prow. Their size is naturally very different; there are small, single-person canoes, and all larger sizes up to twelve or sixteen people sitting one behind the other, for only in very rare cases is the width sufficient to allow two men to sit side by side.

The prow is carved from a single piece, yet in such a way that at its foot the wood divides at an acute angle, like wings, so that it can be attached to both sides of the boat; the angle thereby arising at both ends of the canoe is named tabaran. The spirit protecting the canoe would stay here; the inside of the canoe is called waquwaqu.

The outriggers with the float are always fastened to the left side of the canoe so that one end is always the cutwater, although in practice this front part of the canoe is not always directed forwards, but is frequently pointed in the opposite direction. However, a bow end, luaina, and a stern, bit a uaqa, are differentiated.

The outrigger boom, or more correctly outrigger booms, because there are always several, extend from gunwale to gunwale, and out over the gunwale on one side; the general term for these is taraba; the one in front is designated taraba valval, the one at the back teitei (tei = to steer) because the canoe steersman sits on this one, never on the one in front. The taraba are present in different numbers, according to the size of the canoe: the smallest number is two, one seldom sees more than six.

To give the taraba greater strength, they are fixed with several supports running at right angles to them; that is, parallel to the body of the canoe. These are called aunuruk. The taraba are forked at the outer end, so that they can be attached better and more firmly to the small pieces of wood serving as binders, which stick out of the float. The float, aman is a piece of soft wood about four-fifths of the length of the canoe. It varies in thickness according to the size of the canoe, but it is seldom more than 20 centimetres thick and usually cut square. 48Both ends are pointed and are called bur na aman; the aman is usually charred in the fire to make it stronger in the water. From the aman small flat boards rise in pairs at fixed distances according to the separation of the outriggers from one another. These are called li; they are tightly arranged, with their pointed ends driven perpendicularly into the wood of the float, aman, and the forked ends, aur na kubau, of the outrigger, taraba, firmly attached; as a rule they project somewhat beyond the forked ends, and are firmly bound to one another at their upper ends. The canoes obtained from Uatom are not secured to li by their front and rear outriggers, but to two small tree branches called pererek. These branches are not driven into the float like the li, but are inset by means of a right-angled projection, pal a kau or patimur, and bound on by cords; the forked ends project above the outrigger; canoes from the Duke of York islands do not have this embellishment.

A thick rattan cane is laid along the top of both gunwales from front to back, and is secured to the side walls of the canoe by thin strips of rattan. This fastening is named paqul. Small wooden boards are used as thwarts, a little wider than the width of the canoe. These thwarts, pal ab or pal a qul, are somewhat indented on the lower surface at each end, and these notches hook over both gunwales, thus giving greater strength to the whole canoe. The port side of the canoe, the outrigger side, is named na man; the starboard side is called natalai.

New canoes are often decorated with long white cords of down which are stretched from the canoe over the outrigger; this fastening, qoqol na wub, is also put on when the tubuan (see Section VIII) presents it to the water; on this occasion the ends of the li are also fastened with bunches of bright leaves.

The vessel makes demands on the owner. After each time it is used it is drawn up on the beach and either brought under a thick protective roof or covered with coconut matting to protect it from the sun’s rays. Prior to this it is washed both inside and out with a thick lime slurry. In order that the damp bottom of the boat doesn’t suffer damage, the canoe is raised on two or three forked supports, and the float is similarly treated.

Sails for propelling the vessel were previously unknown, and only came into use after acquaintance with the white settlers. In spite of this, for the most part propulsion today seems to be by means of shovel-shaped paddles, named wo.

An ostentatious canoe, uaqa na pedik, was customary in earlier years; today, however, like so many other things, it has already disappeared. This canoe was constructed just like any other, but at both ends between the soaring prows and the gunwales it had extremely fine, open-work carving, which was done by the most skilful carvers of this tribe. Bows, outriggers and float pegs were brightly painted and richly decorated with feather and down cords. It was prepared by wealthy natives and presented amidst great festivities; the curious, streaming past, paid, according to rank and fortune, a piece of tabu which was laid in the canoe. The designation pedik indicates that sorcery and belief in spirits were connected with this; the present generation, however, is not familiar with it, a further indication of how astonishingly quickly many old customs have totally disappeared under the influence of the new culture.

Medical knowledge among the natives of the Gazelle Peninsula is not insignificant. Even though it is now difficult to distinguish real remedies among the charms so often used, it is nevertheless an incontrovertible fact that for certain illnesses sundry more or less effective medications are known to them. These come almost exclusively from the plant kingdom. Medical knowledge itself does not have a high standing; on the other hand the possessor of it enjoys a special respect, and attains greater importance through the supposed inspiration by spirits. The natives’ anatomical knowledge is quite remarkable. This is of course a consequence of cannibalism: knowledge of the structure of the human body and the importance of the various organs being gleaned from this. One might assert that their knowledge in this connection would far exceed that of the average, educated European. They can report accurately the position of the individual internal organs, and are able to judge whether liver, lungs, stomach, and so on, are implicated in the illness. Many years ago I was summoned by the natives to a wounded man who had been hit by a bullet in a battle with a neighbouring tribe. It was reported to me that the bullet had penetrated the left side, injuring lungs and stomach, and had lodged in the right wall of the body. When I wanted to examine the injured man more closely, they showed me the site on the right side where the projectile was lodged, and it would have been an easy matter to extract it. I did not attempt to carry out the operation, however, as the injured man lay at the point of death. Lungs and stomach were undoubtedly shot through, although my medical knowledge would scarcely have extended to establishing this. The natives, however, gave impressive reasons for their assertion, and I was in no position to contradict. The wounded man died about two hours after my visit, and the following day, at the burial, they showed me the bullet that had been removed before his death; the corpse displayed a cross-shaped incision, about an inch long, through which the bullet had been extracted.49

The natives’ surgical knowledge extends to the treatment of skull fractures originating from slingshot stones, undoubtedly their high point. Should  a native be knocked insensible by a slingshot stone in battle, he is immediately dragged unconscious from the battlefield and brought to the person entrusted with the treatment of such wounds. This man immediately assesses the nature of the wound. Should the stone have crushed the temple, then he immediately pronounces the wound as fatal and undertakes no operation. If on the other hand the frontal bone is crushed, he immediately proceeds to trepanation. His instruments are the most simple imaginable: an obsidian sliver, a sharp shark’s tooth, or a sharpened seashell. Before the operation he washes his never very clean hands in water from a cubica (a coconut that is full of fluid but has not yet established a kernel); the wound is also carefully washed with the same water. Whether this fluid therefore has antiseptic properties I cannot say; the fact remains, though, that it is used. With one of the previously mentioned cutting instruments the surgeon now makes a long incision transversely across the contusion, to bone depth. Two assistants, aided by a thin strand of rattan attached to a lock of hair, slowly and carefully peel back the corner of scalp freed from the bone, until the surgeon has laid bare the entire damaged part of the skull. The next task involves removal of the bone splinters. The individual fragments are carefully removed with a sharpened piece of coconut shell, until the brain is visible. The surgeon now carefully observes it; should he find that the brain has a gentle, pulsating movement, he is very happy, and promises a rapid recovery; however, if he observes no movement, it is a sign to him that bone splinters have penetrated the brain, and he then assumes a serious demeanour. However, he does not give it all up for lost, but begins to search for concealed bone splinters. For this purpose he carefully parts the brain folds until he finds the bone splinters hidden between them and removes them; the instrument used is the coconut shell sliver mentioned earlier.

If all is crowned with success up to this point, the next stage of the operation begins. This consists of the surgeon smoothing the edges of the opening in the skull with a sharp object, a sliver of obsidian or a sharpened seashell, so that all sharp edges are removed until the hole is round or elliptical; great care is taken that fragments rubbed off don’t fall into the cranial cavity. When this task is completed, the actual operation has ended, and the surgeon now takes the necessary steps to allow the wound to heal. He covers the hole in the skull with a small piece, mal, of inner bark from a certain tree, or 50with a small piece of innermost leaf of a certain banana, which has previously been held for a few moments over a charcoal fire. Then the scalp flaps are slowly and carefully drawn over the skull and laid in their original positions. The hair around the wound is now cut off, and finally the whole area is carefully washed with water from a cubica. To hold the scalp flaps in position and thereby enable healing to take place, the upper part of the head is covered with a tight-fitting, wide-meshed network of strips of rattan, bearing the name kalil.

The surgeon ought now, by our standards, to be pleased with his work, but far from it; he now fastens on that which, in his opinion and in his clients’ conviction, is the only effective means of producing real healing, namely various charms. In this case two particularly powerful healing charms, named mailan and aurur, are blown into the air, hung round the patient’s neck, or else attached to some part of his body. Without this aid, the operation would not be complete, and in the opinion of the natives would have no favourable outcome in any case. Whether it be in consequence of the skill of the surgeon or as a consequence of the charms, this much is certain, that in almost all cases the operation is successful. Not only do I know of a great number of such patients, who today, many years after the operation, are still alive, but also my collection contains many skulls of natives who have lived a long time after the operation and many of whom I knew personally. All these skulls clearly show the smoothing of the edges and the ensuing scar tissue. In European collections, too, such skulls are certainly not a rarity. It can be marvelled that the always difficult operation is successful in so many cases, albeit with primitive instruments, even though they are used with the utmost care. The patient is usually unconscious during the course of the operation. The native doctors, tena papait (tena = one who is skilled; papait = charm), tell me that when a person regains consciousness during the operation, he loses consciousness again after a short time. An old native counted thirty-one cases in which he had undertaken the operation; of these, twenty-three were still alive; many of them had been brought before me. One of these had been trepanned twice, both times successfully; he is now an old man of about sixty. He received the first wound as a youth, the second about twenty-five years ago. It might happen that after the operation mental disorder appears, either permanently or episodically, but I know of no incidence of this occurring.

This operation is similarly known in the Duke of York Islands. The missionary, Mr Crump, tells me that a V- or Y-shaped incision is made there, and the wound is subsequently bound with dry strips of banana stalk. Moreover, on the Gazelle Peninsula the surgeons may have variations in technique, in such districts that are less familiar to me.

I must comment here that the operation is only undertaken when after removal of the scalp it is observed that the cranial bone is completely depressed and shattered. If the skull is depressed and individual pieces of bone still hang together, further intermixing is avoided; the skin flaps are carefully brought back into their correct position and the wound heals normally. Such depressed skulls are often brought to me; the skull wound had healed and formed a deep dent.

On the entire southern half of New Ireland and the offshore islands of Gerrit Denys and Caens, trepanation is also known. From the close relationship of the Gazelle Peninsula tribes with the tribes of southern New Ireland we should not be surprised. Here the operation is also carried out by men and, as far as I could ascertain, in the same way as on the Gazelle Peninsula. However, in medical practice they are even further advanced, in that trepanation is also resorted to there for certain illnesses, to give palliation to the patient, namely in the case of epilepsy, and for chronic severe headaches. In these cases an incision is made in the skin, and the frontal bone exposed. The latter is then pared with a sharp seashell until a furrow and finally a fissure is created in the frontal bone; the scalp is then again laid over it, medicinal plants laid on top, and after a short time, about ten days, the wound has healed. This has now led to trepanation of the skull by paring being regarded as a certain cure for various illnesses, and, in order to protect her children from headaches and epilepsy 51during their entire life, a caring mother does not neglect opening the frontal bone of her children by scraping; in some districts this trepanation takes place only once, but in other districts, on the other hand, twice or three times. Years ago I tended to regard the scars resulting from the operation as ‘decoration’, although I could not explain how a palpable, deep furrow occurred in the skull bone. Several years ago, in the vicinity of Cape Santa Maria, I was attracted by the pitiable cries of a few children, who, with several women, formed a small group in the shallow water of a small stream. I was not a little astonished when I saw on my arrival that two, approximately three-year-old girls were being held fast by several women, while their mothers vigorously scraped the exposed frontal bone with a sharpened shell blade. The scraping in itself did not seem to cause great pain directly to the little ones, the cries were indeed more of a protest against the enforced restraint, for as soon as there was a pause in the latter, the cries also stopped. The operation continued until a fine fissure, about 1 centimetre long and 0.5 millimetres wide, was evident, then the wound was rinsed with the not very clean water from the stream, and crushed leaves were laid on it; the binding was a strip of old cotton. The children operated on seemed to be hale and hearty; after completion of the operation both left the place holding their mother’s hand. This form of prophylactic trepanation only occurs in children, indeed only in the period between the second and fifth years. Fatalities must be very rare. The scars are very visible in later life and extend from the centre of the forehead right up to the hairline; when two or even three such operations are performed, the scars lie as a rule 2 to 2.5 centimetres vertically, side by side, and when a finger is traced over the frontal bone operated on, one can feel very clearly the deep furrows caused by the scraping. In the skulls of such natives that I have seen, the skilfully produced cleavage of the frontal bone had already completely healed (fig. 19).

In the case of bone fractures too the natives of the Gazelle Peninsula know how to help themselves. The tena papait is usually quite skilful in the management of arm and leg fractures, which he regularly treats. He fits the bone ends together and applies several bamboo saplings as splints. He also manages forearm fractures, and especially fractures of the tibia, surgically, by making a deep incision right to the broken bone and then exposing the fracture points as much as possible. Next he shaves a sliver about 6 centimetres long and 1 to 1.5 centimetres wide, from a certain type of bamboo. He forces the sliver down through the wound right to the bone, and draws the skin flaps over it, whereupon the broken limb is firmly wrapped round. After about two weeks he removes the bamboo sliver, and the wound heals like any other. I have seen a fracture of two right-side ribs treated in this way, and the patient recovered in a relatively short time in spite of the drastic cure.

On all the islands of the archipelago extraction of blood is a popular operation, practised by every native as a curative against any kind of pain. True venous blood-letting is indeed unknown, but blood is withdrawn from the body through numerous incisions. Forehead, back and chest, and frequently other parts of the body as well, are often covered with the scars of healed incisions. With truly stoical calmness, a Melanesian submits to this always quite painful operation, when not uncommonly fifty to 100 such incisions are made, 0.5 to 1 centimetre long and about 2 millimetres deep; the distance between the individual incisions varies, but usually amounts to 2 to 5 millimetres. Quite significant volumes of blood are thereby extracted occasionally, and entire pools of blood reveal the site of the operation. The efficacy of this blood-letting is not doubted by any native, and at the slightest pain he submits to it with the greatest forbearance. After sufficient blood has been drawn off, the wounds are rubbed with burnt coral lime, often also with a mixture of coral lime and certain crushed plants. Healing then ensues after a few days.

On the other hand, the only resource against internal illnesses is sorcery, and as a consequence of this the most basic rules of precaution, which in the initial stages of the illness might perhaps have led to a favourable outcome, are again most grossly neglected. Should the sorcery not help, then no other means would help anyway. Every year pulmonary illnesses claim numerous victims, although with appropriate care many a life might have been saved. In cases of epidemics, which are not infrequent, the mortality rate is frightful; especially so with dysentery, which claims countless victims. In vain can the white man take the most stringent measures and be on guard day and night; none the less the patient perishes, because he eats things that are, per se, not easily digestible, thereby undeniably causing aggravation of the illness, or death. Epidemics like smallpox, such as we experienced years ago in Kaiser Wilhelmsland and parts of New Britain, can completely decimate whole areas, and this is so well known to the natives that in many places they kill the sick at the appearance of the first symptoms, to prevent further spread of the epidemic.

The natives on the whole do not have much faith in the white man’s cures; unless doses administered are high, or have drastic effect. Glauber’s salt, castor oil, and so on, enjoy great popularity, as do all remedies that are distinguished by a horrible taste. There is little trust in medications administered in drops. On the other hand a native will undergo the most difficult and complicated operation by a white doctor with the greatest equanimity. He has 52absolute faith in the knife, and it often happens that a worker will go to his white employer with a request for surgical intervention for pain of any sort. The level of stoicism with which the natives undergo the most painful procedures without crying out in pain or pulling back a muscle is astonishing. In this regard they can be put forward as an example most worthy of emulation by the majority of white men, who lose courage at the mere sight of a knife.

One of the main questions we are faced with in establishing colonies, is to what extent should we raise and improve the sanitary conditions of the natives over time? The appointment of medical officers in individual districts is already a great step forward, but it is only the first step in a long series of measures that must necessarily follow if we want to assist in improving the sanitary standards of the natives. Vigorous education about cleanliness, not only of the person but also of the dwellings and their surroundings, is above all essential. The dwellings themselves cannot be considered unhealthy; in most cases they are appropriate to the circumstances of the natives, and might, with the exception of the sleeping places inside them, be regarded as suitable to their purpose. Where bare earth serves as a bed, often with a simple palm leaf mat as a groundsheet, it must be emphasised that raised, plank beds should be substituted, for which suitable material is easily obtained in abundance. I do not see the question of clothing as being so absolutely important, and I believe that by introducing cotton garments into areas where the people previously wore no clothing, we cause more illness than we might well imagine. Formerly the native seldom, or never, washed his loin cloth or whatever garment he wore, and within a short time these were thick with dirt and stains. Now he wears a few rags, whether they are dry or dripping wet, and it is apparent that he will often catch cold and frequent lung infections. However, all the changes can only be achieved with time, and it is pleasing to see that many of the plantation workers, who have come to recognise the need for hygiene and tidiness during their employment, continue to value the new experiences after their return home.

Furthermore, in particular cases where medical knowledge can be regarded as not unimportant, by and large in illnesses of which the cause is not obvious, wild superstition is revealed, expressed in different ways. Above all, there is a widespread superstition that when a person who has slept for several nights in a hut or in a compound with a sick person, goes off to another hut or another compound and sleeps there, the condition of the sick person consequently deteriorates. This is designated by the word kubak. In order to get round the problems arising from this, it is customary to isolate the sick man completely, with some of his friends, to give other family members more freedom of movement. These friends or nurses of the patient then serve him day and night, and must sleep near him, particularly at night. Should they leave the sick person for whatever reason, suspicion immediately falls on them that they are responsible for the deterioration in the illness, and the more frequent their absence the more the indisposition increases. The sick person will then indeed say: ‘A kubak (so and so)’, indicating that the person named has aggravated his illness by his absence. Relatives of the sick person then turn on the person indicated and attempt to bring him back; should he refuse, it is regarded as an evil intention, having the aim of aggravating the condition of the sick person, or even causing his death. This leads to all kinds of hostilities which, according to the connection of the person concerned, can have dangerous consequences. No other superstition has such a hold as this one, and in cases of illness it is almost impossible to persuade an inhabitant of a compound where the sick person is, to leave the compound at night.

Should a sick person die, everyone is of the firm conviction that it is the result of sorcery, and although the sorcerers enjoy very high respect, it can happen, however, especially when the dead person had been a man of position with great connections, that the respect is lost and it causes the downfall of the sorcerer. The latter must now pull himself out of the invidious position as well as he can, usually by paying tabu to the relatives and followers of the dead man. If, however, he is successful in clearing himself in the eyes of the people they proceed to other measures. A few whiskers or head hairs, a piece of the ear or finger, and so on, are then cut from the corpse, and a man adept in this kind of sorcery murmurs his spells over them, summoning the various spirits to punish the evildoer. This sorcery, named kom or komkom, never fails in its purpose, and should someone die soon afterwards, it is believed that this is a result of the kom, and that the dead person has brought about the death of the sick person through sorcery.

The kom is also used to prevent the theft of poultry. A small piece of the fowl’s claw is cut off, a magic spell cast over it, and the fragment is buried in the ground. When someone steals this enchanted hen he becomes quite decidedly ill or he dies.

On the north coast of the Gazelle Peninsula there is a frequently used spell, in which a person who wishes evil, throws a stone over the house of a sick person, at the same time pronouncing a certain incantation. This should bring about the death of the sick person and is the cause of numerous disputes. This behaviour is known as varlili atanai, and is taught in the ingiet societies.

As a rule it is essential to the effectiveness of the charm that it contains an article that forms a part 53of the one to be charmed; for example, his hair, a piece of his clothing, or something that has some kind of connection to him, such as his excrement, his food scraps, his saliva, his footprints, and so on. All such items can be used as panait; that is, as a medium for a papait or charm, consisting of an incantation or the murmuring of a certain spell combined with blowing hand-held burnt lime into the air. It is self-evident that the native clears away all such objects in conformity with these powers. This is the basis of the normal neatness of the compound, consisting of the earth floor being carefully swept each day, not for the needs of cleanliness and tidiness at all, but purely as an endeavour to remove everything that can serve as a spell to an evildoer. A native conceals or burns his shaved off locks of hair, or wipes the spat-out betel nut saliva off the floor just as carefully.

Another widespread superstition is that certain birds possess the power to announce the death of a man. Should such a messenger of death cry in the vicinity of a hut, it is hurriedly driven off by yelling and stone-throwing. The same omen is also conveyed by shooting stars, which in the natives’ minds are spirits that journey down to the earth to collect a man whom they have chosen.

In epidemics, which take a heavy toll, it is not uncommon that in the evening old and young arm themselves with burning palm leaves and sprigs and rangee, raging and wailing, through the entire village and round it, with the thought of driving out the evil spirits bringing the sickness. Even though the epidemic is seldom averted by this, such a driving-out of spirits offers the beholder one of those many unforgettable, eerily beautiful pictures, of which the archipelago is so rich. The landscape lying in deep darkness is suddenly lit by single torches that dart along among the bushes. They are quickly joined by numerous other blazing torches in the glare of which the huts and foliage sparkle, and which light up the wildly behaving natives, who move through the bushes and round the village waving their torches and yelling and gesticulating as loudly as possible.

The native also protects himself against sorcery and illness by charmed cords, either quite simple strings or ones decorated by tabu snails or small leaves of pele at each end. These cords, called kanubu are blown over with lime by a sorcerer and given healing powers by spells. They are worn not only to prevent an illness but also to cure one. In the former case they are worn round the neck, in other cases bound round the affected part of the body. There are various kinds; the most important and most highly regarded are the kunibu na ingiet bestowed by the ingiet society, and the kunibu talisabu which is knotted round the ankle in a particular way.

One might now suppose that the native, given the chance, would gladly accept the services of a white doctor. However, this is not the case. A white doctor, be he ever so qualified, does not impress a native at all. The opinions of the latter on what is and what isn’t beneficial to health, differ very widely from those of the whites. A laxative, a plaster for a wound or an ointment are acceptable to him, but he remains sceptical about operations of any sort. Should the doctor amputate his leg or arm in order to save his life, he can be certain that the amputee’s family will interpret this act of kindness quite otherwise, and if only they could, they would prepare all unpleasantness possible for the doctor. When there is absolutely nothing else, they will indeed allow themselves to be treated by the white doctor, but they don’t bestow particular faith on him, and moreover they make use of their sorcery as far as they can.

Quite frequently one encounters the opinion that the natives have become accustomed to living from day to day without a care of any sort. This is a very inaccurate view, because the native actually leads a life plagued by all kinds of anxieties. Among the greatest plagues of his life belongs his excessive superstition. He sees himself surrounded constantly by evil spirits and their influence. He trusts nobody, for who knows whether his nearest neighbour, his ostensibly best friend, is not trying by sorcery to bewitch him with calamities, illness and even death. Everywhere he perceives instances that he has been targeted; he suspects treachery and deceit everywhere. We cannot be surprised therefore that mistrust is a dominant feature in the character of the natives, not only the New Britain people but Melanesians generally. I would like to point out that for this reason it is much easier for a European to win the trust of a native, than for a native to trust a countryman from a distant region. Of course the native regards the white man as a being who is far superior to him in many things; the many evil spirits and the hurtful sorcery that surround the natives on all sides have no detectable influence on the European, therefore he is a white man from a land where there are other spirits and other charms, over which the local spirits and sorcerers have no power. To tell the natives that neither spirits nor sorcerers can harm them, is preaching to deaf ears; the feeling in the background is always: you have spoken well but we know better. So long as everything goes well, things are fine; this is usually regarded as the result of a spell or similar. But should the smallest calamity or the slightest failure occur, this can be ascribed without doubt to the influence of an evildoer, be this spirit or human agent. It was thus explained a short time ago by my gun-boy, who goes pigeon hunting for me; he would no longer go hunting with a certain native, for whenever he was in this person’s company he frequently missed the pigeon at which he was aiming, whereas when 54he went alone he seldom missed. In the gun-boy’s opinion, the companion had used some kind of magic so that he missed. On the whole natives judge things in this way, even though the situation may be explained very easily on natural grounds. The native is, once and for all, not susceptible to basic common sense; his only rationale is, and remains, sorcery on the part of evildoers or the influence of evil spirits. I have often listened with great amusement to the tales of the natives when they recounted how, in earlier times, they had brought the heaviest artillery in sorcery into battle against my wife and me, often at great expense, and with exceptional trouble, but always in vain. The lack of effect of the sorcery lay in native magic having no influence on whites, but nonetheless they are steadfast in the belief of its success against natives.

One of the most popular and simplest potions is the malira. This consists largely of objects from the plant kingdom – leaves, fruit, roots, resin, plant juices, and so on – that are secretly administered in various combinations: dry, fresh, in powdered or ground form, or by rubbing into the one to be bewitched. Usually one tries to mix it in with the food of the person to be bewitched, or with the powdered lime chewed with betel nuts; it is often sufficient for the person in question simply to be touched by the malira. The composition of this potion is very wide-ranging and diverse; new mixtures are continually being put into circulation and should be spirit-inspired, according to popular opinion. A new malira is given by the inventor to others, and obviously they have to pay for the favour. The price varies according to the reputation of a malira, corresponding both to the goal to be achieved and the effectiveness of the means. A malira of repute is therefore a good source of revenue for the inventor. Potions are used for the most varied purposes: they are believed to awaken love, or to encourage women to give ear to licentious proposals. Furthermore, they are believed to cause particular illnesses, or to prevent recovery from an illness, and much more. The potions that awaken love enjoy special demand. Although the malira itself is of a harmless nature, the native firmly believes in its excellent effects. Should these not occur, a reason is always to be found why the effect was not achieved, and other malira are sought.

The malira must not be confused with the tarin or taring. The latter is a poison and is used as such, to cause death. Of course there are different sorts of taring, that are probably none other than malira or potions, but the native markedly differentiates between them. The taring is likewise a great secret, although there are also several methods that are known to the great majority. I have investigated a number of such poisons as to their efficacy, by giving them to animals in their food. Several of them are undoubtedly fatal; others cause long-lasting and often fatal illnesses. A certain taring is obtained by drying individual portions of fish known to be poisonous, and rubbing them with burnt lime; several other media are dried-up plant juices that are prepared like malira. One medium that causes insidious, chronic illness is the thorny, fine, small hairs of the bamboo sprouts; these are scraped from the plant and mixed with food; they penetrate the gut wall and cause painful symptoms, and frequently death.

The potions that go under the name malira, are to a great extent used against women. But besides these, there are a very great number of media that men use among themselves, and which are grouped under the name pepe. Now one man of course can use a spell on another through pepe, to harm him. However, pepe is more frequently used in order to be inspired by the spirits. Both pepe and malira are media that are imparted from the spirits to humans.

The preparation of the pepe is a secret belonging to certain natives, to whom it has been communicated by spirits. It consist of parts of plants, that are crushed and, with betelnut and lime, formed into small packets wrapped in betel leaves. These packets are laid at the foot of the tree that the spirit in question has chosen as his dwelling. There are a great number of pepe spirits with different names. These are conceived as having an animal form but with a man’s head; the body has the shape of a fish or a bird or a lizard, and so on. Each of these spirits prefers a particular tree, and each bestows on the pepe the ability to make a certain revelation to those whom the pepe adopts; for example, how one should decorate oneself for certain dances, which hair style or body painting should be used, how the bunches of bright leaves used in dances should be arranged, how the conical hat of the duk-duk should be decorated, how the little hut used for the vuvue celebrations should be adorned, and so on. The procedure is generally as follows. The owner of the pepe in question prepares the little bundles mentioned above, and then invites participants who build little huts or lean-tos under the tree. Every participant receives a little packet upon payment, and once they are all distributed, the whole thing is eaten. The effect initially is a state similar to drunkenness, followed by a deep sleep. Those sleeping are carried or led to the little huts. Here they are now inspired by the spirits, and it is expected that the inspiration should occur immediately after the first dose; if this is not the case, then the procedure is continued until the inspiration results in dreaming. The one inspired then imparts the inspiration of the spirit to the owner of the pepe, and the owner then sells this revelation to others for a certain sum, of which the one inspired receives a small portion.

Several years ago I personally experienced the effectiveness of a certain pepe. The mixture would 55not be placed among delicacies, it tasted sharp and aromatic, and after the onset of a feeling of dizziness I soon fell into a deep sleep. The pepe had proved its effect so far but the inspiration, which in this case should have disclosed the assembly of a hair decoration of feathers, did not occur; on the other hand on waking up there occurred the sensation of a mighty hangover, with the probably inspired resolve never to test the power of the pepe again. The partaking of areca nut with betel and lime can certainly evoke similar responses in people who are not accustomed to using this stimulant. However, since all natives are experienced betel chewers, the ingredients must have a strong narcotic effect in order to cause the deep sleep in them too.

The spirits who invoke the pepe inspiration dwell exclusively in trees, and indeed each individual spirit has a particular tree, regarded as its dwelling. As a rule individual parts of this tree, flowers, fruit, sap, bark, roots or leaves have more or less magical power and find their use in some form in the preparation of the pepe.

Short feuds and long wars belong to the order of things on the Gazelle Peninsula, as in the whole of the Bismarck Archipelago. In earlier times more so than now, as fortunately the influence of settlers and the imperial government is beginning to bring about a change for the better here and there. However, where this influence does not exist, the most trivial reason is enough to cause the natives to have recourse to weapons. Fortunately these wars, although beset with great uproar, are not very bloody. A few dead on both sides suffice to pave the way for negotiations of peace, and close friends are always willing to act as intermediaries, for as such they receive special incomes and fees that are quite acceptable, from both parties. Although these wars have lots of disadvantages for the parties as a consequence, I have come to the conclusion, after many years of observation, that it is incorrect for one to see in them the reason for the decline in population. Of course it cannot be denied that as a rule the slain enemies are men in the best years of their lives, but on the other hand I believe that war has a stimulating effect on the natives, sharpens their intellectual powers and also develops their physical characteristics. Without war and feuds a primitive people grows sluggish, becomes mentally as well as physically indolent and in the course of time disappears from the scene. We see this frequently on the small islands of the Pacific Ocean, where nature offers abundant means of sustenance that can be obtained without special physical effort. On all these islands where neither war nor labour requires exertion of mental or physical powers, the population regresses, in spite of an apparently strong constitution. Therefore when we forbid the natives to conduct war, we must carefully consider how to provide them with other means of stimulation, such as work. If the population of the archipelago could be urged into daily, regular work, the broad, uncultivated areas that are everywhere at the moment might soon disappear, and a stronger, healthier population might gradually grow. A native would never take to regular work on his own initiative, however, and it is the duty of the administration, the missions and the settlers to encourage the natives to work, by gentle pressure, to make useful members of the community out of them.

But back to the wars on the Gazelle Peninsula; the reasons that form a casus belli are known to everyone; women are most often the cause. The relatives of the offender immediately hasten to deliver the amount of tabu customary for that particular offence to the injured party through a neutral party. Acceptance of this prevents the outbreak of hostilities. But in order to be prepared for every eventuality, preparations are made for war. Sentries are posted to thwart a possible surprise attack, the rolls of tabu are sent with the women to friendly natives in the neighbourhood or, should there be danger in delay the treasure is hidden in pre-arranged places in the forest. The weaker party even vacates its dwelling site and sets out for the kamare or battleground, as a rule an open grassy space from where the enemy’s approach can be observed.

Should the offered atonement money not be accepted, the real war, winarubu or winarua, begins. The parties stand facing each other, but are very much on their guard about coming to close quarters. Sham attacks are made, each party taunts the other, and after this has continued for a while, particularly with the intervention of darkness, the whole crowd withdraws, for night is no friend of any man, and one sleeps better in a hut than on the wide field of battle. The following day the affair breaks out again and only goes on until the intermediaries are in agreement with the offended party on a certain sum of atonement, and this has been paid over.

The case becomes more complicated if some particularly great heroes kill one of the opposing party in an ambush. This can only be atoned by vendetta, and the number of slain must be the same on both sides, before a peaceful resolution can be contemplated. In such an event, each party pays the other a certain sum in atonement for the slain, as well as a sum for the original offence and the case is thereby brought to a close.

If one or other party in such feuds succeeds in killing a man of standing, an a gala or luluai or similar, then the situation is even more complicated, for his death can only be avenged by the slaying of an adversary of equal rank. Relatives of the slain man bind small segments of tabu on their battle spears while murmuring magic spells, and then set out for the kamare. Here a particularly 56brave luluai steps from the ranks, dances and gesticulates in front of the enemy, hurls a stone at them, or throws the spear wrapped with tabu, a rumu na tutuluai. This is a challenge that indicates that the war cannot be ended before blood vengeance has taken place.

The slain enemies are eaten by the victors when the bodies can be removed successfully, and the proceeds in tabu fall to the victorious hero, to whom a certain amount of tabu is paid for each meal portion.

Very long, drawn-out wars are ended by great festivities at the conclusion of peace, and the diplomats who have negotiated the peace and brought it to fruition pocket payment from both parties, which is well-earned, as they not infrequently risk their lives in their efforts. In earlier years I frequently had to take on the role of negotiator in my neighbourhood, and I may boast that I have concluded more ‘everlasting peace’ than most of the diplomats in the civilised world. One of these conclusions of peace has remained particularly in my mind, because after all the preliminaries had been conducted and the compensation price for each individual killed had been determined after long bargaining, a stubborn, elderly a gala persisted that three loin cloths, about 5 metres of cotton and fifty sticks of tobacco about 1 kilogram in weight should be handed over to him by the opposing party. This exorbitant demand aroused general indignation, and since I did not want to see my hours of effort wasted, I had to send a special messenger to my house to bring back the things wished for. The outcome was thereupon satisfactory both ways, although for my part, as the gift made to me consisted of two of the scrawniest hens that could be produced, I did not recover my expenses. On another occasion it almost cost me my life. Some formality had not been fulfilled and I was regarded unjustly as the cause. The consequence was that when, accompanied by my wife, I arrived on the spot, I received a hostile reception and had to withdraw immediately. Only my accurate knowledge of the native trails saved our lives then, but for all that there was no pleasure in an endurance run of about 5 kilometres over grassy plains and through deep ravines, now and then sprayed with pellets from the pursuers armed with muskets. Yet it will always remain a satisfaction to me, that four years after my arrival, as a result of my negotiation and in spite of earlier long-lasting feuds, the tribes in my area had established a firm peace among themselves, that has not been interrupted up to the present day, although occasions have not been lacking when distant tribes often attempted to involve them in their wars and tribal unrest.

I come now to a description of the weapons used by the inhabitants of the north-east coast of the Gazelle Peninsula.

As a long-range weapon the sling, wajen, comes to mind immediately, and the stone, lika, catapulted by it. The sling consists of a cushion of several pandanus leaves folded together, and two cords, each about 1.25 metres long. The cushion is tied together at both ends and thus takes the form of an elongated, shallow pod to receive the stone. The cords are threaded through both the ends, which are tied together; one of them ending in a loop or eye that is stretched over the middle finger when in use; the other cord ends in a multiple knot that is held firmly between thumb and index finger. The operator holds both cords in the right hand in the described way, backwards over the right shoulder. The left hand with arm outstretched holds the sling-stone firmly in the cushion, at the same time stretching both cords. With a sudden jerk when the left hand lets go, the right hand swings the sling several times horizontally in a circle above the head, then suddenly releases the knots held between thumb and forefinger, and the stone flies with great force from the sling. Today this weapon has almost disappeared into oblivion, the younger generation has nowhere near the practice nor the precision that was encountered in earlier years. I have known old people who seldom missed their target, and broke the bones or shattered the skull of an enemy with a sling-stone at eighty or 100 paces. To use a sling, a free, open field is necessary, as offered by the broad, grassy plains of the Gazelle Peninsula. In dense forest the sling is useless, and here other weapons, namely the spear, rumu, and the club, ram, come into play.

Spears are found in various forms, but when they have to be used as weapons of warfare, they must first be dedicated by a special magic spell, malira. Such means of enchanting the spears are called kulit. In earlier times all the spears were stored in a special malira house from where they were brought in time of need, when they used the particular charm when polishing the spear while intoning the spell; and together these would impart a deadly effect to the spear.

The most frequently used war spear is the vulu, a long, thin spear with an extended sharp tip and a gradually tapering butt. Below the tip a piece of bark is always laid round the spear and painted white with lime. In battle this spear must always be gripped in the right hand and thrown from that; held in the left hand it loses its deadly characteristics.

Besides this there are a great number of other forms, among which those decorated with bright feathers immediately draw our attention. Ulang, or with the article, a ulang, is a common battle spear which is decorated at the butt with a very decorative, conical feather ornament of bright parrot feathers. This spear is indeed used in battle but finds more use as a gift to a participant at a feast, to whom respect is thereby shown. The pulpulu  57is a feathered spear of a simpler style; several long hen feathers and a few parrot feathers are attached at the butt, and for this attachment the wooden end of the spear is wrapped around with a dry leaf of the fan palm; the vivinegap is decorated at its extremity just like the pulpulu, and in addition a part of the shaft is wrapped round with short feathers, and two rows of yellow parrot feathers are placed along opposite sides, each feather slanted a little towards the rear.

Besides these feathered spears, the spears adorned with a bone at the butt end are worthy of note. They are recognised under the name lauka. These spears too serve usually as a gift for participants at a feast. In this case the bone is replaced by a wooden imitation named kavar tukau. Bones on the normal lauka are almost always the leg bones of the cassowary. However, human bones are also used from time to time, and the spear ornamented with one of these is called pal a kaluka. With this one there is a unique state of affairs. If a native is indeed slain, the relatives attempt to get possession of the victim’s tibia. This bone is then used for ornamentation of the pal a kaluka and remains there until the spear has brought about the death of the murderer or until it has pierced the victim perhaps killed by another native, several times. These types of spear are consequently rare in collections, while the pal a lauka with the cassowary bones are common enough.

The spear in the hand of a native at close range is always a very dangerous weapon, for long practice allows him to throw it with great accuracy and strength, with the result that frequently the body is pierced right through. But this skill too is gradually being lost, and in ten years’ time the spear will be a completely harmless weapon.

For close-quarters fighting the club is used, and there is a whole range of types with different designations. Many of these have become so rare over the course of years that today older people bring the young folk to me, to show them the old items stored in my collection and to explain their significance. Many valuable accounts and clarifications have been given to me through this.

I have gradually become convinced that all the clubs can be divided into two large main groups: those that have been there since time immemorial, that everyone knows how to make, and that consequently are not linked with sorcery and superstition; these weapons served then, and still serve today, as weapons for attack as well as for defence; however, besides these there are a number of clubs that, being introduced from distant regions, attracted attention through their rarity and their peculiar shape, and were therefore associated with sorcery.

To the former group belong clubs known under the names bakul or pakul, palau bubo, biri birika, lalam kutu, gelewa and kulai. Their shape is easily recognisable in plate 8.

To the second group belong the clubs palau, tawa or talum, tiara or mapina kumu, mukmuk, bau, aul kubar and duk duk kavivi.

Palau consists of a thickened rod at the lower end with a bored out stone head inverted on it. This club was originally imported from the Bainings, after which the manufacture of the stone head became gradually known in the Varzin districts through Baining slaves. I was able to observe the manufacture of the stone heads here years ago, and the method exactly matched that still used today in the Bainings.

Several specimens of tava or talum were available at Varzinberg, and according to local inhabitants’ comments came there from the Taulil. In shape the club has great similarity with such weapons from the Sulka region, and it is not improbable that it was originally dispersed further northwards from there by the neighbouring Saktai or Southern Baining. 58

Tiara, or after the linking charm, also named mapina kumu, was introduced from the region of Cape Strauch on the west coast of New Ireland. The club was regarded as somewhat rare and extraordinary by the natives.

Mukmuk is a club with a carved, conical upper as well as lower end piece. It had evidently been imported from southern New Ireland, where it is still common, to the opposite shore of St George’s Channel, whence it was adopted into the neighbouring districts.

Bau is a universally used club, but I have not been successful in finding out anything about its origin.

Aul kubar is a bakul decorated with bright feathers and is certainly an indigenous invention, just like the duk-duk kavivi and the boroï or pal a vat, which originated after trading with the whites.

In the old days all these clubs were stored in the malira house, a hut expressly built for the storage of magic potions and all items connected with them. Today these types of houses no longer exist. Even on my arrival in the archipelago they belonged among the rarities, and I cannot recollect ever having seen one. In times of war these clubs were brought out after the usual incantations had been murmured over them in the hut and they had been polished with the malira, or this had been attached to them using the bright leaves of certain types of cordyline. The various malira had different designations, and each type was only used in conjunction with a particular type of club. The tik a meme was always used to enchant the palau; the mapina kumu and bobo were used in conjunction with the clubs tava and tiara; mukmuk was enchanted by the charm kotkote, and bau with the malira known as au bukum. Aul kubar which, as we have mentioned earlier, was also used in marriage ceremonies, likewise played a major role in war, with the malira unique to it; when an enemy was slain with it, the victor danced round the corpse, flourished the club in his hand, and tore down the feather ornament with his teeth.

All these different magic charms had the purpose of making the club deadly, so that a single blow would suffice to lay the enemy on the ground. Allegedly the charms were introduced here from far away, together with the clubs. The war hatchet boroï or pal a vat was a common weapon years ago. An earlier club of the same name with a wooden, sharp-edged head, similar to the tiara, had been improved by removing the wooden head and substituting an axe blade that came from the white traders. Ornamentation of the handle, a flat, broad, lancet-shaped arrangement, ai lene, was retained and carefully decorated. Today this weapon belongs among the rarities, and it is difficult to obtain a specimen, as by and large a great portion of the previously described types of club must have completely disappeared already.

Among the musical instruments the wooden drum qaramut or garamut, reigns supreme, extending throughout Melanesia. It consists of a wooden 59block, oval or pear-shaped in cross section; the interior of this trunk section is hollowed out through a long, narrow slit in the upper long side, a task that required great exertion in earlier times when iron tools were still unknown. Undecorated carved knobs serve as handles at both ends. Manufacture of a slit drum is permitted to every native, and such an instrument is found in almost every compound. It is essential that every head of a family owns a drum, because otherwise he would not be able to communicate with his neighbours by drum signals. Sound is created by gripping a thick rattan pole, about a metre long, between thumb and index finger of the right hand, and guiding the lower end through a ring formed by the thumb and index finger of the left hand, so that the pole strikes the wooden wall of the drum on one side somewhat below the slit. A far-sounding boom arises, somewhat like an empty barrel being treated in the same way. The beating of the drum is called tintiding; the pole bua na qaramut. As a rule the owner names his drum, either after the maker’s name, or after a special event when the drum was used for the first time, or after its tonal quality.

By means of these drums the natives are in a position to send understandable signals to people living far away. Drum signals are differentiated as general signals and messages known to all natives and universally similar, and as private signals which are recognisable only to one district or to a certain group.

The following are known to me as common signals which are understandable from Cape Gazelle as far as Weberhafen, and are the same throughout.

The signal tuktuk vaturia means that an enemy has been captured and his body dismembered. To arouse the general attention of the neighbourhood, this signal, like all signals on the whole, is provided with an introduction, which is named koai. The koai consists of a series of rapid sounds in succession, not dissimilar to a drum roll; then follows the particular signal consisting of several slow hits, something like: ‘ting; ting; ting; ting; tingting; ting; ting; ting; ting’, and so on.

The signal sounds not only during the distribution and consumption of the corpse, but still several days after, as a rule with longer or shorter pauses during a period of five days and nights, as a propitiation as it were of the tribe whose member has been eaten. Scarcely has one party proclaimed its success by the tuktuk vaturia, than there sounds a signal called pal a mia from the opposing party, which has the purpose of calling together all men of the tribe capable of bearing arms. Each one who hears it yells a loud war cry twice, drops everything, grabs his weapons and runs without hesitation to the compound where the signal comes from. The head of the family has meanwhile divided tabu into small pieces 25 to 50 centimetres long, and each of those running up is given a piece, whereupon he breaks his spear, strikes the ground with his axe or club, and behaves in a warlike manner. This distribution of tabu is designated as kukuau. The signal sounds somewhat as follows: (koai): ‘ting, ting, tingting; ting, ting, tingting; ting, ting, tingting; (pal a mia): ting; ting; ting; ting; ting; ting; ting’, and so on. At each ‘ting’ those present yell their loud war cry.

When a man of importance has died, it is announced to the neighbourhood by a drum signal called kukukur ta ra minat from Weberhafen to Matupi, and a lal tabu from Blanche Bay to Cape Gazelle, but is the same throughout. It goes roughly: ‘ting, ting, ting, tingting; ting, ting, ting, tingting’, and so on. A generally similar-sounding signal is the ibut ra bong whose purpose is to indicate a particular day. Suppose, for example, that a chief has set down some celebration or other event for a certain day; now if it happens that for some reason the appointed time has to be postponed, this is announced to the surrounding area by the signal ibut ra bong. After the introductory signal has ended, the actual signal runs something like this: ‘ting; tingtingting; ting;’ the last somewhat louder and longer ‘ting’ indicates a day; should therefore the event be postponed for four days, the signal is repeated four times, on each occasion with an emphasis on the final ‘ting’.

Besides these general signals, there are, as previously mentioned, private signals, kulakula tiding, whose meaning is known only to the members of a particular family or clan. Through these signals distant people can be summoned and small, important announcements made. These private signals are long-standing and unchanging, and it is incumbent upon the individual members of the family to commit these to memory, from youth.

As a consequence of this signal system it is possible for the natives to spread a message with great rapidity, and in the first years of my stay I was frequently not a little astonished when news of incidents in far districts was given to me perhaps scarcely an hour after the event; likewise the natives were always warned in time when I attempted to surprise them in their compounds.

After the qaramut, the kudu plays a significant role, as it is the musical accompaniment for all the dances. The kudu is a drum, shaped like an hour-glass and covered at one end with the skin of a monitor lizard, on which heavy blows are struck with four fingers of the hand. The walls of this kind of drum are not infrequently decorated and painted; a few of them have a handle in the middle, often in the shape of a frog or lizard, and so on; these ornaments have no special significance.

After both of these musical instruments I now come to a number of instruments that must also be included, but all of which, without exception, 60serve the purpose of making oneself acceptable to women. The sounds they bring forth serve as dance or singing accompaniment only in a few cases. The most widely spread of these is the tutupele or tinbut. This instrument consists of two wooden battens, about 1 metre long, 10 centimetres wide, and in cross-section a shallow ellipse whose shorter diameter is 2.5 to 3.5 centimetres. Both wooden battens are often provided with a shallow, troughshaped hollow in the centre of the wood on one side. To use it, the player sits down and lays both pieces of wood across his legs, or lies them on two pieces of banana trunk, always making sure that a free space is left under the instrument, from where the emitted sound is amplified. The sound is created by striking with two small wooden clappers, about 3 centimetres thick, and is audible far off. A few players have developed particular skill, and understand how to strike regular drum rolls, interrupted by single blows, double blows and triples in quicker or slower tempo, by which extraordinarily great diversity can be brought to the playing. Especially on moonlit nights, the sound of the tutupele is heard far off in the villages; the lovelorn musician labours on his instrument with laudable patience for many hours, hidden, however, in the forest, for women cannot be present at the concert. Related to this instrument is the tidir, consisting of two dry, wooden rods that are held in the hands and struck against each other in a particular meter. It is not so far-reaching as the tutupele and serves as it were for more intimate transaction. According to its use the tidir has various designations. Thus it is called tidir a malira when the player gives a sign to his adored one that he intends to give her the love-inducing malira; the little rods are called belequa or qaro when a number of young men use them, squatting on the ground, singing their love songs; the designation covers both the music and the song.

The flutes, kaur, of which there are various kinds, belong here too. These flutes are produced from a certain thin-walled type of bamboo, about 40 to 55 centimetres long and about 2 centimetres in diameter. The upper, open end has a triangular notch, which is laid against the lower lip when playing; at the lower, closed end are a series of holes in pairs, 4 to 6 centimetres apart, that the player can close off with his fingers. The three tones created by the flute are repeated and combined in all possible modulations, and in the somewhat melancholy sounding melodies the lover expresses his yearning for his beloved. The kaur are either extremely simple bamboo tubes or they are decorated on the outside by the most varied burn patterns. In this decoration the maker lets his imagination run free, and if he is not lacking in patience the outside is provided with a confusion of ornamentation; human and animal figures are predominant but there are also concentric circles, zigzags, parallel lines, dots, and so on. These ornaments, however, bear no relation to the use of the instrument. Use is varied and is frequently connected with superstitious views. Kaur na pulu is a flute prepared with evil intent; it is connected with the superstition that when another person, not the owner, plays it, he subsequently commits pulu; that is, unlawful, sexual intercourse with a member of his own clan, a crime regarded as incest and which in earlier times would have been punished almost without exception by death. Other types are the kuvik na ka that are played by young men in the gardens, the kaur na tilik and the kaur na longlong which are all connected with more or less powerful magic for evoking love in the hearts of the young native women.

Both the following instruments, eiwok and dedede, serve the same purpose. Eiwok consists of two roughly finger-thick little bamboo pipes of different length, lying side by side; and dedede is a regular pan flute of several bamboo tubes of varying length, fixed side by side, from which as many different tones can be made as there are pipes available.

Two further instruments likewise belong in this division, namely the ngap and the baibai. The former is an instrument closely related to the Jew’s harp; it is made from a piece of bamboo of lancetlike shape, about 15 to 20 centimetres long, about 2.5 to 3 centimetres broad on the lower surface and running to a point. In the middle of this a long, narrow, thin leaf is peeled off; it sits with its base firmly attached to the broad end of the instrument, and runs sharply, just like the instrument, towards the pointed end. This sounding reed can vibrate freely in the cut-out slit. In use the instrument is held in the left hand, the pointed end with the reed is laid against the front teeth, and with the right hand the player gives a gentle tug by means of a thin cord attached to the base of the instrument. A vibrating movement arises, causing a low humming noise. The baibai is the nut of a type of Cycas (baibai); this nut is pierced by two pairs of opposing holes about 8 to 10 millimetres apart; a string is pulled through each pair of holes and fastened at the ends. In use, the ends of the strings are held in both hands and then the nut sitting in the middle is swung in a circle, upon which the double cords on each side of the nut become twisted; if this has gone on for long enough, the wound-up cord quickly unrolls with a gentle tug, twisting the nut around itself and thus creating a low humming or whistling sound; the rotating nut then rolls up the string to the other side, and a tug with the hand unrolls it again so that the whistling sound can be continued at will.

A woman’s musical instrument is the pangolo, a musical bow serving only as a plaything, that is now only seldom seen. In the Papua Album, volume 2, plate 23, figure 2, a girl is depicted playing the 61pangolo. The instrument itself consists of a fire-hardened little wand in the shape of a bow, about 40 centimetres long. A thin cord is laid doubled around both ends, and in order to create sufficient tension, one of the cords is joined to the bow by means of an adjustable loop of cord. By adjusting the loop, the bow string stretches more or less tightly. The female player places one end of the bow against the front teeth and holds the other end in her left hand; in the right hand she holds a thin, small wand, usually the central rib of a coconut palm leaf and with it, by lifting and a quick rebound of the cord, sets the latter in an oscillating motion, thereby creating a low humming.

The bullroarer, which plays an exceptional secret role in Australia, New Guinea and the Solomon Islands, is also known on the Gazelle Peninsula, but only as a children’s toy. On the other hand, on the western end of New Britain, at least along the coast west of Montague Harbour, as in Buka, Australia and New Guinea, the bullroarer is still a sacred instrument today, only used in particular celebrations, and not to come under the gaze of women.

Our Gazelle Peninsula native does not disdain decoration to beautify his body, he believes. Of course his views frequently run counter to ours, and we might count many of his means of beautification as disfigurements; on the other hand, we must further concede that in the presentation of items of adornment such as arm, neck and head bands he quite often demonstrates considerable taste, which frequently matches ours. For decking out his body, the native uses not only the most varied items of adornment, but also painting and the creation of artistic scars like tattooing.

I want to consider first of all painting, certainly the earliest form of decoration. It is designated by the universal name wartumu, but when it is put on for festivities of any kind it is called minōng, and when used for battle or war parties wartūn.

Application of the minōng is never just according to whim, however; each individual stroke, each dot, has its significance and its particular designation. The various types of minōng have different owners; for the most part they are in possession of them through inheritance, often also as a result of invention. Whoever wishes to use a minōng which belongs to somebody else must make a small payment to the owner.

I want to try to present a portion of the most practicable minōng. The colours used are: black, white and red; in a few cases green and yellow are also used; and, since the introduction of European goods, blue as well. The latter colour is scorned by conservative natives, however, and is only used by those progressives who have been infected with new ideas in the missions and in the service of whites.

Three strokes vertically down both cheeks, in the colours black, white and red, are called lur (= shedding tears).

A black stroke running from ear to ear across the cheeks and over upper and lower lip is toboa.

A red fleck on each cheek with a circle of white spots overlying it is called dukaduka (dotted).

If the entire forehead is painted white, this decoration is called pulapulang.

If powdered lime is painted by hand over one half of the face, the white design created is named paparia (papar = to deliver a blow, a box on the ears).

A streak along the bridge of the nose in a chosen colour is called tongo na pap.

A line in a chosen colour from the upper limit of the forehead right to the root of the nose is named bioro.

A line in one of the three colours from the inner angle of the eye over both eyelids as far as the ear is called bingbat.

A circle in any of the three colours, around the eye (in imitation of an owl’s eye), is called kurkur (owlet).

A triple coloured, black-white-red line diagonally across the face is called aukor.

A triple coloured line from the inner angle of the eye in an arc over the cheeks as far as the temple is called bebe (butterfly). Women must wear this decoration in red only.

Upper and lower lip outlines in black, white or red are called mulmul pap. (This is a creature which the natives maintain is the size of a kitten but with a prominent snout. Only very few people claim to have seen it; it is said to gnaw young coconuts and to drink from them).

Like the face, the hair is also variously coloured, and hair dyes are named warku. When both sides are dyed red while the crown and neck are black, the adornment is named vunvun.

If the entire head of hair is dyed red, it is warku nanami na la mar; if it is powdered with yellow it is called kobol (see later under colour designations, page 144); dyed green it is called limut and black utur.

The teeth too undergo a peculiar process, in which they are dyed black. This coloration is created by manganese ore, which occurs here and there, and for which the native pays quite highly. The powdered manganese ore is crushed together with young shoots of the tali tree (Terminalia litoralis) that have been gently roasted over the fire, and the paste (tawāl) is kept for two days. Then the real staining of the teeth begins. The tawāl is mixed with the sap of a certain banana plant, kalapua, and put over the teeth; this is repeated for two consecutive days, and on the third day the tawāl is put on, mixed with the sap of a certain root. The teeth are already stained black by the fourth day, and are then polished with the juice of a plant (Euphorbia?) 62to make the stain permanent. During the period of the staining the person concerned cannot chew anything; drinking water is poured into his open mouth and he is fed with chewed bananas. Sexual intercourse is strenuously forbidden to him during this time. Women stain their teeth only in particular districts; the procedure is the same.

I have been able to find no general term for body painting. However, here too each pattern has a different name.

Green, black, white and red stripes lengthwise from the shoulders to the ankle joints are called mangingi.

A black or white line from the shoulder down over the chest as far as the hips is called baqal.

A white line from the larynx to the navel is called leva.

A three-coloured line in the same position is lalu.

A similar line from the inner border of the knee diagonally across the upper part of the thigh to the upper margin of the hips is called kawakawal.

A triple-coloured line from the elbow across the upper arm to the shoulder and from there to the sternum, then doubling back along a parallel course is limana virua.

A triple-coloured line from the shoulder along the outer side of the arm to halfway along the upper arm is called vauvāl.

If the upper arm is decorated with a triplecoloured transverse line just below the shoulder, it is called kipakipa na lalai (lalai = Trochus amulet).

A red or white cuff around the wrist is called panau (also an armband which is worn at marriage).

Two triple-coloured lines, running over shoulder, back, side, and chest, crossing over each other on back and chest, are named veveuk.

Two broad lines, one red and the other white, from collar bone to nipple are called ū.

The forms of body painting given in the preceding passage are encountered universally, but besides these there are still other local forms, that have a limited spread.

Painting as a sign of mourning is called korkor when put on the face, on the other hand it is qiava when worn on the other parts of the body.

Likewise, in war, body painting plays a major role, but here it is always a form of magic charm, malira and has a quite specific purpose.

Borqunai is a black spot surrounding the right eye and extending to the middle of the cheek. The colour is obtained from the soot of burned aleurite nuts mixed with oil.

If the right eye is coloured black while at the same time the left eye is red, this decoration is called kotkot (the black crow). If, on the other hand, the right eye is white and the left black, the designation is kotkotē.

A black-red line from shoulder to shoulder across the chest is called ubu kum. If the same line is exclusively white, it is named minigulai (a type of hawk).

A black line from the navel over the right breast and shoulder as far as halfway along the upper arm is called ka meme (meme = a flash, or red); it ensures that the warrior has a sure arm for spear throwing.

If the entire lower face is painted black, which is named pap (dog), it causes the one being chased to stumble in fear and fall to the ground when he hears the loud breathing of his pursuer like the loud panting of an extremely breathless dog.

The artistically made wig of human hair also belongs to war decoration, and is then called warwoi (wig) a wardodo or ka ai wai; it has the effect of its wearer being able to approach his victim secretly, unseen.

In the inland districts around Vunakokor the right half of the body is painted with black and red colours, while the left is yellow. This painting is called malira baining because it originates from the Baining people.

A red and a black line from the right shoulder across chest and back to the left shoulder is called tur ma ra vi (vi = a knife made of bamboo, with which the human body is dismembered).

I want to add a few comments here about the designations of the colours. There are no real names, the colours are always given by the object being compared with another, whose colour is to some extent accepted as the norm.

One will say, for example: it looks like, or it has the colour of the crow kotkot. Over the course of time it has become customary for the substantive to be used, unaltered, as an adjective. This will be clearly recognised in the following.

Black is named from the various objects from which it is produced, or a black object is named as a comparison. Thus, for example, the word kotkot is heard used as the designation for black. Kotkot is the indigenous black crow; all things black, especially shiny black objects, are so named. Likutan or lukutan is similarly called black, but more in the sense of the term ‘dark-coloured’; tuworo is the black colour produced from the soot of the burned aleurite nut; luluba is the black morass in the mangrove swamps; dep is the black colour produced from the soot of the burned resin of the java almond tree; utur is produced from charred betel nut leaves mixed with oil. All these names are used to designate ‘black’, according to the blackness that one or other of the named items resembles.

Red is usually named tar or tara, which is the designation for the burned red ochre that is often used as a dye. Besides this, one often hears the designation meme – that is, lightning, especially when speaking of red cotton material – or birau –that is, fire flame – or qap blood, or kubar, which designates the red colour of the lips brought about by betel chewing. 63

White is pua or pupua (that is, the shining, sparkling, as, for example, the stars); kabang is likewise often used, and literally translated is ‘burned coral lime dust’.

Green is often called limut; that is, moss, or green grass, or the green covering that forms on white objects through dampness. For pale green the word qileqil is used, that is a certain pale green type of parrot; vok is the darker green of the green Eclectus parrot.

Yellow, when used for pale yellow, is leilei; pakar is the yellow of the cockatoo crest feathers; kobol is a darker, or orange-tinted yellow.

For blue there is certainly the word maremarumian; this indicates a dark colour or an opaque colour, as, for example, the colour of the sea, which is apparently opaque. Other designations for blue are bakut (that is, the clouds, the heavens), or vienau the iridescent blue of a certain kingfisher, or ioala the blue of the common Halcyon recurvirostris.

A step further into the culture of the savage people, is of course the production of permanent body ornamentation, and the most simple form of this is that which we universally regard today as decorative scars. There are various designations for these, the most frequent are the words buliran and vurvur. The former indicates ‘raised’ scars, a common flat scar is called manua which also signifies ‘ulcer’; the latter is called bohren and of course designates the production process, where wounds are produced by a charred, glowing wooden wand, and are rubbed with burnt lime and coconut milk to produce raised scars. For these scars the word kotto is also used; this is an obsidian flake, the instrument by which the wounds are caused.

A step further and we come to the widespread tattooing of the body. Tattooing in the Gazelle Peninsula natives is quite primitive; I have stated elsewhere5 that I regard this tattooing as the remains of a regular patterning that was brought in by the original immigrants from southern New Ireland, where we still come across it today. On the dark-brown skin the slate-blue marking of the tattoo barely stands out, and this type of body decoration has therefore never achieved such a significance among the dark-coloured Melanesians as it has among the pale-coloured Polynesians. Tattooing is produced by making 3- to 4-millimetrelong parallel lines close to one another by really scratching the skin and rubbing the wounds with soot from aleurite nuts. The face in particular is tattooed. Three systems of lines over the cheeks, extending outwards from the lower eyelid, are called lur, meaning tears; a double line from the root of the nose around the eye is called bebe which is a butterfly. Therefore we find here the same designations as in face painting. Six rows of lines on each side of the chest from the nipple to the abdomen are called tip (that is, a small piece of shell money); all other tattoo forms are called kotto, the name of the instrument by which the wounds are made.

Decoration of the person by means of ornamental objects is particularly popular among males, but here too sorcery comes once more into evidence, in that many of the objects regarded by us as ornaments also possess allegedly powerful magical effects. I might almost say that there is no single object of adornment that is not connected with some kind of sorcery.

Hair ornaments are universal, worn not only at festivities but very often in daily life, and made particularly out of variously coloured bird feathers. I have mentioned elsewhere (page 123) that these items of hair decoration are described in a dream, by certain spirits that live in trees and whose intervention is brought about by partaking in a potion called pepe. These sorts of items of adornment vary therefore both in the assembly and the arrangement of the individual components. A few, however, are handed down from olden times, and are constant in form and arrangement. Among these are the most important ones, presented in the following.

Kangal, a bunch of bright parrot feathers, especially from the malip (Lorius hypoenochrous), with a white cock feather in the centre. This ornament is worn both in dancing and in war.

Lakua, a big bunch of white cockatoo feathers; worn both in dancing and in war, and also for decoration of the male corpse.

Totokoi is very similar to the kangal, however, small ornaments assembled from cuscus teeth (shell money from the Duke of York islands) and white shell discs are added on.

Wamein consists of the previously named feathers and those of a species of Halcyon with an outer rim of hog’s bristles, the ends of which are dyed red.

Turlio is a bunch of yellow crest feathers of the cockatoo and Halcyon feathers; from this bunch there arises a human figure carved out of a sliver of wood, with outstretched arms bearing small bunches of a yellow-leafed plant. This ornament is a figurative representation of the pepe spirit Turlio, who is accepted as living in small bushes consisting of the goragora plant, the latter being represented by the bunch of feathers.

Beo is a crest of bright feathers going from the forehead to the neck; a carved bird (beo) is attached to the forehead side, and waggles from side to side with head movements.

Kawawar is a bunch of cassowary feathers falling from the crown of the head to the nape of the neck; small red feathers from the malip are fastened to its ends.

Bal a marit is the same ornament but pulled further towards the forehead, ending there with a short tuft of bright feathers. To both lastmentioned items of adornment belongs a bunch of ginger (kawawar) that hangs down the back, or is fixed through an arm ring.

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65Wamain a koto is a crest of plaited bracken fern, a hand’s breadth wide, extending from forehead to neck. The foliage is coloured black. This is a particularly powerful magical ornament that is often used in the ingiet feasts and protects against the evil influence of the spirits.

The beard is removed so that only a thin crown of hair runs from ear to ear over cheeks and chin. The beard is rubbed with lime, partly to give it a red colouring, and partly also to make the individual hairs rigid. This peculiar style of beard serves exclusively as decoration and has nothing to do with sorcery.

The majority of the following ornaments, as we usually call them, do not exclusively serve this purpose, but are in their way more or less powerful charms to achieve this or that goal, namely the goodwill of women and courage or invincibility in battle.

Figure 20 contains a number of the most common of these items.

Items 3 to 8 are headbands that are used in the most diverse situations. They are given the general name rărā. Items 3 and 6 are more narrowly designated as rărā na babat (babat = antidote), because they have the property of keeping evil spirits or the influence of dangerous sorcery at bay. Items 4 and 5 are rărā na vinarua that not only protect against danger in battle, but also make the wearer strong and courageous. Items 10 and 11 are named kalaqi na warqu (kalaqi = pearl shell, warqu = to rub or smear), and consist of small round, or oval egg-shaped pieces of pearl shell which are lined up and knotted together in the hair after this has been smeared with dyed coconut oil. In the natives’ opinion they are a strong charm for winning the love of the female sex. Items 7 and 8, named wamaing, are headbands that serve the same purpose. Item 9 is a girdle named wipit that has the same result; it is wrapped singly or in a number of up to ten or twelve around the waist, and consists of a row of Duke of York shell money interrupted by series of cuscus teeth, ngut, and tabu snail shells; the arrangement of this object varies and implies greater or lesser efficacy; whoever can afford it strings on a greater number in varying arrangements, in order to be quite certain of achieving his goal. Both collars depicted as items 1 and 2 are called middi or niddi. They are plate-like, broad structures made from Nassa shells that are especially prepared, and not valued as tabu. The individual little snail shells are sewn firmly side by side on thin strips of rattan, and the individual strips are then attached side by side, often up to twenty or more. The lower middi was common earlier in several inland districts, and has a series of small disks of Nautilus shell which are attached to several slivers of pele and laid on a red backing. This object was worn by the men in battle in former times, because special magical powers were attributed to it; today, however, it has completely disappeared, and only rarely does the collector succeed in obtaining an old, good piece for a very high price. The neckband represented as item 12 is named ngut, (ngut = cuscus tooth) after the material from which it is prepared. The individual teeth are bored through at the root, and each tooth is fastened to the others by thin cord. This type of standup collar is very valuable because the material is imported from New Ireland, and according to demand fifty to 100 teeth can be bought for a fathom of tabu. Since a few of these collars contain up to 2,000 teeth, then the price of the material alone can be 20 to 40 fathoms of tabu or, calculated in currency, 60 to 120 Marks without including the manufacturing costs, and therefore it is only rich people who can afford such a collar. Also, it is only an item for show and has no magical powers. The same is true of the wide, thin armrings that are worn here and there by old, rich people, and are named kakala (kakala = Tridacna clam). These armrings are shaped like a thin disc, with a sharp outer rim; the width varies from 2 to 5 centimetres; the greater the breadth, the greater the value. These armrings are very rare, and good pieces only come into the hands of the collector through a particularly favourable opportunity; they are inherited within families, or when no inheritor exists they are buried with the deceased owner. I know of one case where two such armrings were purchased from a native at a price of 150 fathoms of tabu (about 450 Marks); certainly they were two splendid pieces, 4.5 centimetres wide. One might think that the price should be considerably lower, since the raw material, the Tridacna clam, is plentiful on all the reefs. However, the high value is qualified in that it is not the common Tridacna shell of the reef that is used in manufacture, but a fossilised Tridacna shell found in isolated gorges beyond the Varzinberg. This species of Tridacna is certainly the same one that still lives on the coral reefs today, but by long deposition in the ground the shell has gained a particular alabaster-like structure, that is immediately noticeable to the expert.

The planning of the above-mentioned magical adornments is then not at all such a simple affair as the casual planning of a necklace or a bracelet in Europe. If the magical powers are inspired by the pepe spirit, then of course these powers are fixed into the particular article, and in its fashioning they are immediately transferred directly to the wearer; this is the case, for example, with the wipit and the kalaqi. However, the magical powers of the rarā for example, are a consequence of the sorcery of the ingiet and must be renewed each time, in order to be really effective; they are to some extent the 66external sign that the wearer is immunised by special ingiet sorcery. For example, in order to make a rărā na babat effective, the sorcerer prepares the following. Small, half-cooked pieces of taro, coconut and chicken flesh are wrapped in certain Dracaena leaves and little bundles are shaped; the following types of Dracaena are particularly powerful: mette, tikua, mette karau, tokabangia, and rangiene. The sorcerer then gives the prepared morsels to the person in question, and they have to be chewed and swallowed by the latter. This is in itself a small test of courage for this type of food is anything but tasty for tongue and palate, being harsh to the taste and with a quite abominable tang. After partaking, the man grasps his spear or his club and lays the rărā on his forehead; he is then immunised against all dangers of the battle.

The nose too must suffer in order to adopt a characteristic of ingiet sorcery. Of course these magical decorations are disappearing more and more, because not only do the settlers laugh about it, but the numerous workers who have come to the Gazelle Peninsula from all the other islands laugh as well. As a rule the native is very sensitive to ridicule, and the nasal decorations, however much they might possess strong sorcery and magical powers, do not have the power to resist ridicule. The most widespread are, or more accurately were, the nasal ornaments ibut and bilibaqu. Ibut are small, approximately 1 to 1.5 centimetres long wooden pins, three or four of which are inserted into each nostril, for which small holes are bored. Bilibaqu are the long, quill-like cassowary pinions, which are inserted through a hole in the nasal septum and are frequently decorated at both ends with pele shell disks. More rare are the mu(m, a small ornament of five or six cuscus teeth fixed alongside one another like a fan, secured into the side of the nose by a single tooth at right angles to them. All these are ingiet attributes and require a certain manipulation of sorcery to become effective.

Frequently the natives of the Gazelle Peninsula are seen decorated with flowers, bright leaves and fragrant plants, not only during festivities but also on apparently impromptu occasions. These bundles of foliage or flowers are in fact not so much a decoration as more importantly the bearer of certain magical powers, having this purpose or that. The bundles are given the common name purpur; according to the various combinations each purpur has a special name.

Lom, for example, is a necklace bundle of yellowgreen, strongly scented leaves of a plant bearing the same name; it serves exclusively as a decoration and has no secret properties.

Pur kikil is a garland of various leaves and herbs worn around the neck and falling over the chest, shoulders and back; it contains a special, powerful spell to awaken the love of a woman.

Munuba (bracken) is a garland of hanging, black bracken leaves which gives special protection in battle.

Winna is a broken-off bunch of red Dracaena with a stem about 0.5 metres long. The fronds are knotted round the neck and the stem hangs down the back. This gives protection in battle against all kinds of wounds. Like all similar media it therefore belongs to the group of charms designated by the group name mailan. Winna is quite a detailed charm; not only can the wearers not be called by their proper names (they must address each other as to malik), but the women also accompany the brave warriors at a distance and continually sing a song in which they summon the kalivuvur (whirlwind) to protect their husbands.

One might now think that the natives would very rapidly become convinced of the uselessness of all these charms, since wounds and death occur in battle in spite of them, or the courted beauty remains cold in spite of all love spells. However, this is not the case. Should the desired effect not occur, it is not the fault of the sorcery or the charm, but the fault of other counter-spells, but for the most part the fault of the wearer himself, because he has not fulfilled the imposed conditions, or has done this or that which makes the spell ineffective. The inventor of the spell, who is well paid for each occasion on which it is used, is well aware, in the event of failure, of the need to provide some plausible reason which has frustrated success. Perhaps the person in question stepped off first with his right foot instead of his left in setting out; perhaps this or that spirit encountered him on the way; perhaps the chicken that he ate did not have the prescribed colouring, and so on, so that a new attempt and a corresponding new payment must be made. A few years ago when a virulent dysentery epidemic cut down many natives, the earnings of the sorcerers flourished, and since all was in vain, a great raid was arranged on the spirits. This consisted of old and young armed with coconut palm torches, enchanted bundles of plants, and spears and clubs, rampaging through the village and its surroundings with frenzied yells, and after several hours of strenuous effort returning home satisfied, in full assurance that they were now finally rid of the evil. However, when this too was shown to be a wasted effort, the explanation was found that one of the evil spirits had hidden himself behind a rock, or in a hollow tree trunk or some other cranny, persisting in his evil ways, and every objection against that was in vain.

Dancing, which plays such a major role with all the South Seas folk, both Melanesian and Polynesian, has great significance to the inhabitants of the Gazelle Peninsula as well. The natives, who are not otherwise particularly attracted to physical effort, 67display extraordinary staying power in the dance and do not notice when, after hours of effort, streaming with perspiration, they sink to the floor completely exhausted.

I would regard it an impossibility to describe the dances in detail. Cinematography and gramophone combined would be the only way to give a satisfactory impression of them. However, I shall attempt to give a general survey of the dances of our natives.

Dancing is always accompanied by song and music, and no opportunity is missed to put on a performance. Marriages, births, funeral feasts and all the preliminary ceremonies connected with them are suitable occasions; but besides these there are numerous other opportunities which are never overlooked. The completion of a dwelling house or the enclosure of the compound, the first use of a new canoe, the end of harvesting in the taro or yam fields, the killing of a pig, the completion of a larger community project, all provide the opportunity for a dance. Of course duk-duk meetings and those of the ingiet cannot be held without dancing and singing. By and large, dancing can be divided as follows: ceremonial dances such as those performed by the duk-duk members and the ingiet societies (see Section VIII), and profane dances which are common on all other occasions.

The ceremonial dances generally have a constant character. They are performed according to traditional rules, accompanied by songs that are often so old and venerable that their meaning has become completely lost to the singers. They consist in part of sounds strung together that in olden times were words, but have gradually been mutilated over the course of time so that they are no longer recognisable.

The profane dances and songs have undergone a far greater alteration. Here too of course there are traditional forms, but, on the other hand, new songs and new dances continually arise, which have a longer or shorter existence according to their popularity.

It is interesting that our natives have been ahead of the civilised countries of the Old and the New World for centuries, specifically in the protection of intellectual property. Native writers, composers, choreographers and designers have enjoyed this protection since time immemorial. The creator of a dance, the writer of a lyric or the composer of a melody is master of his creation to such an extent that nobody else would dare to reproduce this product without previous permission from the owner. Since permission must always be purchased with a certain amount of tabu, a small revenue always flows in for a popular dance creator or writer. This protection extends not only to the original writer or composer, but to his descendants after his death.

Almost all dances are line dances; circle dances are totally unknown. The men, like the women, always dance in separate groups; quite exceptionally, an esteemed elderly lady is permitted to dance with 68the men. In this case she then plays a dominant role in the presentation, in some way forming the centre in all the turns or dance movements. A man never takes part in a dance for women. On the other hand children are permitted to take part in dances, and both father and mother look on with great pride as their children imitate the various body movements, showing great skill among the rows of dancing men or women. In the compounds one can frequently observe father or mother giving their son or daughter the first dancing lesson, at a very early age when they have barely learned to stand. A bright flower (or a whole bunch) is placed in each of the little one’s hands, and, while holding these in his hands, he must raise his arms alternately above his head, sideways or out in front, at the same time raising his little legs or bending his knees.

Wealthy or influential people have a specially constructed dance place. This consists of an avenue 20 to 40 metres long and 4 to 6 metres wide, bordered with brightly coloured bushes and often shaded by giant forest trees with thick foliage. The superficial humus layer is dug out to a depth of 0.5 to 1 metre as a rule, and is thrown up as a low wall on both sides, so that the site seems to resemble a long, shallow channel. This dancing place, taman, is always carefully cleaned and is the owner’s pride and joy. However, people are not very fussy in choosing a dance place; if no taman is available, then any free site in front of the huts or in the forest is suitable.

If someone has invented a new dance and written and composed an accompanying song, he assembles his circle of acquaintances and rehearsal begins. According to the level of complexity of the individual movements, the rehearsal goes on for a longer or shorter period. Very complicated dances often require a daily rehearsal of several hours over a period of four to six months. During the rehearsal, the basic idea is explained to the participants, after which the various actions, arm, leg and hand movements are taught, all having the aim of presenting a particular event as a pantomime. The accompanying song does not always have a connection with the pantomime presentation, and it is difficult for an uninformed person to be any the wiser after the presentation. To the white spectator a dance appears as a double to quadruple line of dancers holding bunches of brightly coloured feathers or flowers in their hands, their bodies decorated with all kinds of patterns with heads and bodies adorned with all kinds of jewellery, accompanied by a loud, not quite so lovely sounding song which is sung in unison by all the dancers, performing all kinds of movements: stepping or skipping, now forwards, now backwards, now standing or crouching, performing particular movements with the feet, stretching hands and arms, now to the right, now to the left, swinging the bunches of feathers or flowers in prescribed movements. Apart from the varied body decorations the dances seem exceptionally monotonous and all the same to a foreigner, whereas they are actually a complex series of different body movements, precisely measured according to set rules and patterns, and presenting, in pantomime, a quite specific event. I have discussed the ceremonial dances of the duk-duk and the ingiet in detail elsewhere (Section VIII).

It is customary in the dances to adorn the body from head to foot, not only by painting but also by putting on items of jewellery, as discussed above. The head is especially worthy of attention, and the arrangement of bunches of bright feathers, coloured leaves and flowers, delicately shaped shell discs and tiny, carved figures representing animals or human forms often discloses very good taste, which might scarcely be expected in these natives.

b. The Baining

Now that I have described the inhabitants of the north-eastern Gazelle Peninsula comprehensively, I can turn to the Baining. A description of this tribe, their manners and customs will turn out to be far more brief, for although we are quite well informed by the investigations of Father Rascher,6 especially about the North Baining, there is little over all that can be told about them, because in every aspect they are a totally primitive and simple people, such as I have encountered nowhere else in the South Seas.

In facial features the Baining has a pronounced similarity to his eastern neighbours. He has the same coarse features, the same tightly curled hair arranged in ringlets, the same skin shade. As he is a mountain-dweller, his physique has become significantly modified by his way of life, when we compare him with his neighbour. His body is more muscular, his chest broader and better formed, and his leg muscles in particular are strongly developed. He is therefore adapted to follow the steep paths of his mountain homeland up hill and down dale for long distances, even with the heaviest loads, without any apparent effort or sign of exhaustion; even small five- or six-year-old children are excellent mountain climbers, and inspire the involuntary admiration of the foreigner.

Men as well as women wear their hair cut short. Men often wear full beards, although they have learnt the plucking of beards from their neighbours, and have adopted it here and there. The body, especially chest and back, is usually hairy, and hair colour varies from reddish-brown to almost totally black. The same applies to head hair, which is never embrocated with lime, but is certainly bleached by sun, wind and rain.

Chiefs in the narrow sense of the word do not exist. The heads of the families hold weak sway

69over their family members and through working in the fields several families are bound into a loose association. Permanent dwellings or hamlets are just as little in existence. The Baining are migratory agriculturalists. Wherever they have laid out their taro field they settle for a while; when the field is exhausted, they choose a new site, often quite a distance from the previous one, and then construct their primitive huts there. Through these wanderings they gain a precise knowledge of their mountain homeland, and, founded upon a well-developed sense of direction, they are able, to an astonishing degree, to find their way in the forested gorges and steep mountainsides even though an actual path does not exist. Over huge boulders, fallen tree trunks, and through old, abandoned gardens they find their way directly to their goal and never get lost. Features that are scarcely evident to another eye, such as a snapped bough, a broken twig or a slightly scratched tree trunk are unmistakable signposts for them. Also, land and soil do not belong to anyone, the site on which the garden is temporarily set up seems to be regarded as property only for a moment, but they do not recognise a lasting claim; an allocation through inheritance, purchase, gift or barter is equally unimportant.

Father Rascher has recently provided valuable information on the difficult language, and I attribute to him the concise section on Baining language that the reader will find in a later chapter.

The Baining believes that he and his descendants, like all men generally, derive from a man, Herini, and a woman, Sichi. These first people have come forth from the spathe of the Areca palm. Among themselves they are called a chácat (plural of a chachracha); all other people especially the eastern neighbours and shore-dwellers are designated as a lba (plural of a lbacha).

Their belief in human mortality has the following basis.

A long time ago the sun called all created objects together. Everything came quickly, only the human stayed away and did not obey the command. Then the sun bestowed immortality on those who had assembled; the human who was not present, however, did not share in this gift and must therefore die. Everything else lives for ever; the stone and the rock retain their form, the sea is always there, the sky with the stars arches continually over all. The snake does not die either, it sloughs its skin and then lives on. Had the human been obedient, he would have received this feature of the snake.

The spirits of the dead, a ios (plural of a ioska), it is true, continue to live after death. However, they have no fixed residence, they exist everywhere. It is worth noting that people regard these spirits as being without substance and have a unique word for this, sasik, which means as much as being present but not visible; a philosophy that is not encountered elsewhere in the archipelago, where the spirits of the dead are represented in this or that form. They also have no fear of these spirits and relate no superstitions to them. 70

The sole spirit that causes fear in the Baining is a mystical snake, a chamki. This slithers about and eats the excrement of people who must then die. A chamki has numerous children which live in gnarled trees, in knots and outgrowths, and which are just as dangerous to people.

Otherwise the Baining is free of all superstition, a feature that must be stressed, in contrast to all his neighbours. He does not appear to have a sufficiently strong intellect to ascend to comprehensive superstition. Should a friend or relative die suddenly, he ascribes this to his enemy the shore-dweller, but he does not meditate on the why or wherefore.

The shore-dweller (colonists of the northeastern Gazelle inhabitants) is his general enemy. He knew how to completely subjugate and enslave the mountain-dwellers. In earlier times the Baining were taken away in great numbers as slaves, and traded as such to remote regions of the Gazelle Peninsula. It was worse still when the unsuspecting Baining were enticed in great numbers to the beach and there mercilessly slain, for the sole purpose of serving as roast meat for the evildoers at their feasts. Thanks to the Catholic mission a change was finally brought about, and now the Baining at least enjoy a secure life, although the shore-dwellers still regard the produce of the industrious agriculturalists, especially the taro, as their property, and take as much as they please without compensation or reimbursement. But gradually a change is taking place here too. The instruction and example of the white missionaries have to a large extent done away with the earlier subservience and slavish obedience, and the younger generation, who enjoy instruction in the mission schools, do not want to know about the superiority and presumption of their neighbours.

The marriage of a Baining is a very simple story. If a maiden pleases a man, then he proposes to her, or asks through the parents whether she would like to be his wife. If she is willing, then the situation is good; if she does not want to, she declares this without hesitation and that is the end of it. Often the suitor lets the woman be abducted by a friend; the latter waits by the path until the woman comes along, takes her by the hand and leads her to the admirer’s hut. She does not refuse, but follows willingly; however, when she nears the hut she makes her decision on the spot: remains there if it pleases her, or goes away again unmolested after she has declared her disinclination. However, if the affection is reciprocated the woman follows her husband, lives in his hut, helps in the taro field, and the union is seldom broken. No festivities, no feast, no ceremonies of any kind are customary. In spite of this, the Baining woman enjoys a significantly more independent situation than in the other tribes of the archipelago; she takes part in the men’s speeches; both sexes eat together; she does not allow any excessive workload to be forced upon her, and she hands the care of the children over to the lord and master when she has to take her load of taro home or to market. In the latter case, one frequently sees the man, armed with a spear, carefully carrying his little child in his arms, or when bigger he lets it ride on his shoulders.

At a birth there are likewise no ceremonies arranged. Several older women assist the woman in labour, but often she looks after herself. The birth of a child does not disturb daily life at all; after two or three days the young mother is working in the mixed garden as before. The infant is laid on a pandanus mat, or on leaves in the shade of a tree and left to itself. There is no talk of child-raising as such, the boy or girl learns those tasks which will be required of them as grown-ups and as useful members of the family at a very early age, and since the sum of these is not very great, they soon achieve the desired mastery.

On the death of a Baining, be it man or woman, it is just as simple. The family assembles, as do neighbouring friends, and a brief wail of lamentation is intoned over the dead person. A simple meal of taro is prepared and all those present share it. After they have departed, a grave is dug and the corpse laid in it; in many villages the grave is filled in, elsewhere the corpse lies there freely exposed. Whether dogs or pigs use the dead body as food seems to make no difference to the survivors. Yet it is characteristic that after a death the atmosphere in the huts seems to be subdued or solemn. For a period of several days no loud talking or raised noise is heard, a sort of solemn stillness rests over the neighbourhood of the place of death.

Child murder is apparently practised only when the mother dies as a result of childbirth. The baby is then killed because there is nobody otherwise to take the child, suckle it and raise it. Child mortality is quite significant, however, as a result of primitive nursing, insufficient food, and the total unfamiliarity of the natives with illnesses, their causes and their cures. For this reason the Baining tribe is not very numerous, and the future will show whether the missionaries have succeeded in raising the natives to a higher level, so that they are better equipped to withstand the rigours of the climate. On the mission stations the children, for whom residence there is on the whole agreeable, are instructed not only in Christianity but also urged into cleanliness and orderliness. Under supervision from the missionaries they must build good, roomy houses for their own accommodation, carry out regular cultivation of various tropical produce, and since they are on average quick-witted and not untalented, it can be expected that the indefatigable activities of the missionaries will, over time, bear good fruit. The small settlement of the missionary Father Rascher in the Baining Mountains, with the 71pupils’ little houses built in regular rows, erected from local materials and wood cut by the builder, might without exaggeration be called a model settlement, from which spiritual as well as physical benefit must come for the Baining.

That the Baining, in spite of his uniform daily life, also has a mind for great celebrations requiring extensive preparation and related expenditure of food, will be demonstrated in the discussion of the mask dances (Section VIII). But in other ways too he is a friend of festivities, in which pure enjoyment is always foremost. If the taro field has produced a rich harvest a great meal is prepared, the neighbours turn up, and people enjoy being there, while extraordinary quantities of baked tubers are consumed and group dances are performed. Other groups sit round about, chewing. Suddenly the dancers stop, those sitting round jump up just as quickly, grab stones, pieces of wood, food remains or rubbish, and with laughs and shouts pelt each other with the missiles for a short time and then sit down again; new dance groups form up and the previously described scene is repeated. Young men carry this sport as far as hurling human excrement; married and older people take no part in this.

Cannnibalism was common until not long ago, but disappeared under the influence of the Catholic missionaries. No characteristic customs took place. The victim was simply slain and prepared in exactly the same manner as if it had been a pig or a dog. The Baining presents himself today in his original state as an apparently quite harmless child of nature who possesses no predominantly good features, yet is not governed by particularly evil tendencies either. He has good talents but these do not develop; he cares about the maintenance of his daily life; all else is of secondary importance for him. He does not accumulate possessions, he is content with a primitive shelter that protects him against rain especially, but he sleeps on the bare ground and is apathetic towards everything that we would call dirt. His only wash is provided by the rain, which falls abundantly in his homeland, and it is amusing to see the care with which he crosses a shallow river, leaping from rock to rock in order to protect his naked, dirt-stained body from the cleansing influence of the water.

The main food source of the Baining consists, as already mentioned several times, of taro. Cultivation of this nutritious tuber is not without great difficulty and requires considerable expenditure of energy. Several families unite as a rule for communal establishment of a mixed garden. First of all the virgin forest must be felled, then the trunks and branches of the fallen trees chopped up and piled into bigger and smaller heaps. When these have dried out they are set alight and as much as possible of the felled wood is burnt; thick trunks that are not yet completely dry and offer resistance to the fire are left to lie where they have fallen. The cleared field is then surrounded by a strong, thick wooden fence for protection against wild pigs, and the native exhibits astonishing skill in erecting this, using solely a wooden cudgel. As soon as the enclosure is ready, they make a funnel-shaped hole in the ground with a stick sharpened to a point, a hul (plural a huleichi) and plant the taro slip in it. Soon the entire field is planted out with slips at regular intervals, and then the women’s work begins, consisting of removing the weeds that grow in wild profusion between the taro plants. In the fertile soil the taro tubers grow to considerable size and when they are ripe after six or seven months, they are pulled out as needed, by the men, and the upper leaves and stem removed so that a stalk, 30 to 40 centimetres long, remains on the tuber. In the harvested sections of the field bananas are planted. Also, between the taro plants they plant a number of the most varied vegetables whose leaves are very popular as food, and which compete in flavour with several of our varieties of cabbage or spinach. In the fields a type of Saccharum is never absent, its unbudded flower heads providing a popular food.

After the taro harvest and the planting of the field with bananas, a new field, begun in the interim, is fully set up and planted out. The fields planted with banana enjoy no further care, the bananas are harvested when the bunches are ripe, but the fences are not renewed nor are the profuse weeds removed and they and the wild pigs soon destroy the remainder of the bananas. Meanwhile, however, a new field has been prepared, and want never occurs.

Since the Baining are no seafarers, have no canoes at all, and fishing in the rivers or on the beach yields little result, they seek their meat supply wherever they can find it. Pigs are numerous in a wild and semi-wild state, and the Baining hunts them with his dogs and kills the swine at bay with his spear. However, his hunting companion, the dog, is valued as a delicacy too, and is duly honoured at great festivities. An occasional wallaby or a cassowary are welcome changes to the menu. At the same time the Baining eats pretty well everything that he can catch, but an exception is made for all seabirds, which he calls a lgieska; that is, to be superior, to be strong, to be privileged.

The preparation of taro, like the roasting of pigs and dogs, is quite simple. Taro tubers are roasted on glowing coals, meat is wrapped in leaves and similarly prepared. The South Baining prepare their food with glowing hot stones, between which the food is laid, covered with leaves, and cooked. Food preparation by means of glowing stones indeed is also familiar to the North Baining; but they are then used in conjunction with an apparatus that is characteristic of the latter tribe, and to my knowledge is encountered nowhere else in the South 72Seas. This apparatus is called a lus (plural a luski) and consists of a tube of tree bark about 40 to 50 centimetres high and 20 to 30 centimetres in diameter. This tube is placed on the ground and a bed of glowing hot stones is laid inside; it is then covered with a banana leaf and a layer of vegetables is laid on it and once more covered with a banana leaf; then in the same order there follows a layer of hot stones, a layer of vegetables and so on, until the a lus is full; hot stones form the uppermost layer. After some time the vegetables are cooked, taken out, sprinkled with salt water and in this way provide a meal which under the circumstances must be described as very tasty and also agreeable to a European palate.

Betel serves the Baining as a stimulant and a luxury item. The North Baining uses it in the usual way, namely Areca nut with betel pepper and leaves, dipped in powdered lime. He burns the latter himself from shells or buys it from the shore-dwellers. The South Baining chew a certain aromatic tree bark, masoi bark of the Javanese, with lime and a type of betel leaf, but no fruit of the betel pepper.

On Baining house construction there is not much to say, it is the simplest imaginable. A primitive framework is covered with a foliage or grass roof, the sides filled in with sticks and pieces of trunk. They are so low that one can barely stand upright in them. Low openings lead to the interior, and this is devoid of any furniture; the whole family sleeps on the floor, often several families who live in a hut together; but pigs and dogs also find shelter in this dwelling and lie freely alongside their human masters. A flickering fire is usually lit, partly to keep insects away, and partly to provide warmth in cooler weather. In this space the Baining spends his night; during the day when he is not exactly busy in the garden he squats contentedly in front of his palace, devoting himself to his siesta and smokes a cigar, suk (singular suiki) of home-grown tobacco; when it burns out he rolls another; that is, he lays tobacco leaves together and wraps them in a green leaf, then places the whole thing into a cigar holder consisting of a thin bamboo tube. I can say nothing about the flavour for I have never been able to persuade myself to try it; however, the stench of the smoke provides a conclusion about the pleasant flavour of the plant.

His speech flows rapidly from his lips, sounding not unpleasant, and I must admit that I always enjoyed hearing Father Rascher’s little pupils holding a conversation with him. Words followed one another in an uninterrupted stream of speech, accompanied by many gesticulations, of which the affirmative gesture particularly attracted me because it is so different from the usual one; namely in that one doesn’t nod the head but shakes it energetically back and forth several times. Baining singing should by and large be considered melodic, although their songs seldom have an understandable content. Actually, predominant harmony is 73found in their loud yodelling, snes, that sounds out over a broad area from the mountains, and often when there are several voices, it can provide joy and pleasure to a European ear.

After this description of the daily life of the Baining I want briefly to put their skills under examination. Here too we are once more astonished to find that they demonstrate a not insignificant understanding of art, especially in the production of paintings on bark material, which I will discuss in more detail with their masks (Section VIII). These intricate, fine designs find a parallel nowhere else in the South Seas. Equally worthy of note are the nets, a sangen neichi, knotted out of brightly coloured cords, which when newly produced find use in dances but later are also used as carrying slings. Other nets or slings are produced from a fine liana and called a gateichi. All kinds of articles are carried in these. Taro are transported as a rule by the adhering stalks, and it is astonishing what loads the women can carry for long distances up hill and down dale. For this purpose they make use of a carrying band several metres long, woven out of tough bark material; with this the taro stalks are tied firmly to one another so that a loose loop is left free. This is laid over the forehead. To raise the load the woman sits in front of it with her back turned towards it; she adjusts the loop of the carry band around her forehead, bends her upper body as far forwards as possible, draws her legs under her and then rises slowly but surely to her feet with the load, often as much as 150 pounds. Indeed, this gymnastic feat seems quite easy – however, it is not to be performed by somebody unpractised. I have witnessed the attempt made by powerful Europeans with only half the load, always without success. The carrying band, a garawacha, accompanies the Baining woman everywhere and is her inseparable companion. Small girls must carry loads during childhood, and perform this quite remarkably, by our standards.

The preparation of bark material from breadfruit tree bark, and from the bark of another tree unknown to me, is the work of the men. The bark strips are beaten with a club on a stone in the riverbed until all the wood parts are removed by the beating and washing, and the pliable bark cloth remains.

By wicker-work the Baining produce bulbous, balloon-shaped baskets of great durability, from brown and black lianas. In the production of nets of all kinds they are just as skilful, and have fine and coarse, narrow-woven and wide-meshed nets according to their type of use.

With this the presentation of their accomplishments is largely exhausted – apart from the manufacture of their tiny articles of clothing and their weapons. With regard to the former there is not much to say; the men of the North Baining go completely naked, the women wear a narrow loin cloth of plant fibre, hanging down in front, suspended from a closely fitting girdle, while behind a long bundle of fibres dangles down like a tail, apparently without purpose. When sitting down, the woman gathers both dangling pieces with a swift, sure grip and clamps them between her legs. It is undoubtedly this artistic tail that has provided the motive for the assertion of the north-eastern inhabitants, that in the interior of the Gazelle Peninsula live men with tails. This girdle, a niska (plural a nis), is worn by all the Baining women. The men of the South Baining wear a girdle of bark cloth drawn between the legs; the girdle is frequently carefully ornamented by painting. We certainly wouldn’t be wide of the mark if we infer that this girdle is borrowed from those tribes, Sulka, and so on, that live south of the isthmus and occasionally come into contact with the South Baining, known there as Saktai.

The weapons of the Baining consist of spears, clubs and slingshots. The spears are produced from the hard, outer wood of a certain type of palm easily split along its length, and are without any ornamentation. They are to a certain extent chiselled round, with one end chiselled to a point and hardened in a fire. In spite of the rough workmanship they are a dangerous weapon in the hands of the Baining, for from youth onwards they practise throwing, and over time attain astonishing dexterity and skill. The slingshot, a vrika (plural a vri), is absolutely identical to the slingshot of the north-eastern inhabitants of the Gazelle Peninsula; also, in throwing the sling-stone the Baining has had much practice, although this weapon finds use only in open country or on the shore, and by its nature cannot be used in forests and thickets. The club, a machracha, with the bored-through head is characteristic of the Baining. Its use has spread outwards from here as far as the inhabitants of the north-eastern peninsula, where it is known as a palau, and they also know how to make it. Previously, the most elaborate hypotheses had been put forward on the manner in which the boring out of the stone head had been carried out. The most simple explanation, as so often happens, had been overlooked. Professor Giglioli, in a comprehensive work on the stone clubs of the Baining several years ago, gave the correct explanation, which I made available to him from my observations. The native first of all searches for a suitable, already fairly round stone in a riverbed. He then takes it in his left hand and strikes it with another, somewhat pointed stone, always on a certain place on the future club head. A hollow gradually appears, and through continual hitting and removal of small stone fragments, it widens and deepens. A depression has now developed on one side; the same procedure is then undertaken on the other side, and the striking continues until the head is broken through and a hole formed. This is now 74gradually widened until it is big enough to push a rod through. This type of boring is customary among many other primitive peoples and is easily recognisable, since the opening is broader on the outer edges than in the centre. I was introduced to another type of stone drilling years ago at Berlinhafen in Kaiser Wilhelmsland. There the stone is drilled regularly by a bamboo tube with the help of moist sand, and this type of boring is easily recognisable because the bore walls are completely regular and of the same diameter throughout. The same type of drilling is also found among other peoples of nature; in the discussion on some areas of New Ireland I have pointed out, however, that very similar boring out could also be produced in other ways without a circular drill. The club heads of the Baining never have the flat, almost disc-like form that we recognise from particular areas of New Guinea. Strongly bevelled heads appear, but never with a sharp outer rim. The head is found in all stages, from strongly bevelled spheroid, to globular, to oval-shaped. The external shape is given to the head by rubbing on a hard stone; this type of grindstone with ground-in, trough-shaped depressions is found in all the watercourses and springs of the Bainings, and throughout Polynesia right to Europe, an indication that humans have universally carried on stone grinding in the same way. The club shaft is produced from hardwood, round, pointed at the upper end and thickened at the lower end. The drilled-out stone head is firmly fixed to this shaft, completely secured at the lower end by small wooden wedges firmly driven in, and the attachment site cemented with the crushed pulp of the parinaria nut. Nassa shells and red abrus beans are occasionally pressed into the cement as ornaments.

Besides this original club, the Baining has still other forms that have possibly been introduced from other areas. The flat club, about 120 centimetres long, about 8 to 10 centimetres broad at the lower end, narrower at the upper end and with a pointed triangular insert, might possibly be original; however, comparable specimens are also found on the north-eastern Gazelle Peninsula. In the Baining language this club is called a virki. On the other hand, the club called a birichi in the Baining language has undoubtedly been introduced; it has a similar shape to the a virki, but is circular, thicker below and carved into a conical wooden head at the upper end. The club which is called saringeichi in the Bainings has a pineapple-shaped head at the striking end, like the clubs that are familiar to us from the Sulka district, but is incomparably rough and more simple in presentation. A cudgel very similar to the stone-headed one almost certainly originates from there. However, it has a wooden head, almost globular in shape, gradually fused to the club shaft, instead of the stone head. I have also come across these types of clubs in the Varzin area, where, however, they belong among the great rarities.

Although sling shots and sling shot stones are customary throughout, the Baining, unlike his north-eastern neighbour, has not learned the art of trepanning. His medical knowledge extends to blood-letting by small incisions in the skin, and to staunch the blood flow he rubs burnt lime powder into the wound. He always binds wounds very carefully with all kinds of leaves, to which he ascribes healing properties, and which apparently have the desired effect.

The stone axe was his only work tool until a few years ago; today this has already disappeared, at least among the North Baining, and it is very difficult to obtain a complete specimen. Axe blades are still available here and there, however. Among the South Baining the stone axe is still frequently the only hand tool. Near Cape Buller on St George’s Channel I saw this unique stone axe with the usual knee-shaped handle in the hands of men who had apparently just come from felling timber; however, to my great regret I could not obtain a single specimen, because the people were too fearful to await my approach. In the preceding I have given in summary a fairly thorough description of this interesting, primitive people.

c. The Taulil and Butam

It still remains for me to devote my attention to the small tribes of the Butam and Taulil.

If we proceed from Vunakokor (Varzinberg) in a south-westerly direction towards the Baining Mountains, then after we have left behind the inhabited districts at the foot of the mountain, we come upon no further human settlements for many hours. For a long period the path crosses the plain, overgrown with thick forest, until deep gorges traversed by silver-clear streams make the way difficult for us. One of these streams runs for a considerable time between two vertical walls, and in order to find a suitable way over it we have to go downstream for a while.

It was in this dangerous spot that some of the murderers of Mrs H. Wolff were surprised and killed by the Taulil in 1902, at the moment when, in great tranquility, they were catching crayfish. Having passed the gorge and scaled the hill we notice coconut palms. These indicate an earlier dwelling place of the Taulil, named Palakukur. Only after we have scrambled up still more gorges do we come across newly laid out gardens enclosed with quickset hedges and here and there miserable huts. The Taulil, who call themselves Tulil, live here. The history of this tribe is closely connected with that of the Butam. The Butam, who in earlier years were still fairly numerous, lived south-east of the Taulil, 75in the hills and on the plain south of the Warangoi (Karawat) River. To their backs lived the South Baining, who occupied the mountains of the interior. In 1883 to 1885 in the districts of Kambange and Londip on St George’s Channel I frequently heard mention of the Butam, and the area of their habitation was pointed out to me, from the hills outwards. At that time this was already regarded as a tribe that was in the process of dying out, but it was a tribe with whom in those days one still came into contact from time to time on the shore, sometimes friendly, sometimes with hostility, according to the circumstances. The inhabitants around the Varzinberg always seem to have regarded the Butam as their enemies, and the chiefs of Wairiki at that time frequently recounted to me their raids against the Butam.

The Butam had a different language from the Taulil, but were friendly with them and occasionally fled to them when they were too fiercely oppressed by the Varzin people. Over the course of time, but still before the end of the 1880’s, the entire Butam tribe was wiped out, and the few who survived sought protection by the Taulil and were adopted by this tribe. Yet here too they found no enduring peace, for after annihilating the Butam the Varzin inhabitants turned on the Taulil. It remains a mystery how the Taulil, besieged from all sides, could hold out up to today, but the impenetrable forest with its deep, steep gorges always offered a secure place of refuge to those attacked. That the Varzin-dwellers were the prime attackers is beyond doubt; their warlike raids had in part the aim of providing fresh human flesh for their festivities, and in part they were bent on seizing slaves. The custom of vendetta existing among the Taulil then led to reprisals against the attackers, and so there existed that bloody feud which has lasted until recent times.

The districts of Wairiki, Malakuna, Tingenavudu, Viviren south and east of Varzin, and the districts of Tamaneiriki, Vunadidir, Nau-mauma, Rebar and Rapitok west and north of Varzin, took part in these cannibal raids. Usually they succeeded in surprising the unsuspecting Taulil people in their gardens and then men and youths were speared; women, girls and boys, and even infants were dragged into slavery. The flesh of the slain was divided piece by piece among the participants in the raid. These hunts lasted for days and extended as far as the Karawat River, which one seldom dared to cross, for fear of the Baining who roamed those lands on the far side.

Yet the attack did not always turn out to the advantage of the attacker, and when such a raid did not succeed in surprising the Taulil it progressed to the disadvantage of the attackers, and the Taulil repelled them with high casualties. The previously mentioned village of Palakukur was the scene of many tenacious struggles. Here the Taulil had strongly barricaded themselves, and received their enemies with a hail of stones and spears, so that it was a long time before they were successfully driven out of this fortress.

Occasionally the Taulil also made an attack on the enemy region, and the districts next to them had to be continually secured against surprise attack. Several years ago the Taulil carried out an almost unbelievable act of bravery. One of their chiefs, Tokomet, had been killed and the need for revenge was paramount. They learned that the entire Viviren were holding an armed gathering in a certain compound. Several courageous Taulil made use of this situation; they crept into the compound and fell upon their enemies with such vehemence that the latter fell over one another in their wild flight, leaving behind three of the bravest leaders, dead.

The Taulil maintained a certain friendship with several of the neighbouring tribes between Blanche Bay and Weberhafen, and thus occasionally in recent years they have also come to my dwelling, so that I frequently have the opportunity of trading with them. Physically they are scarcely different 76from the other inhabitants of north-eastern Gazelle Peninsula. They are somewhat swifter and more adroit in their movements, and their eyes betray a great degree of cunning. They are able to transport heavy loads with great endurance over long distances, but this is a characteristic they possess in common with all the inland inhabitants. They also visit individual tribes on St George’s Channel with whom they stand on a peaceful footing. Many years ago I met a group of about twenty of them who were fishing in Rügenhafen, and on first sight threatened to become aggressive, until a native from Kambanga who was accompanying me gave them a sign of recognition, upon which friendly exchanges immediately developed. Father Eberlein sought them out in their present dwellings; he was indeed received somewhat mistrustfully; soon, however, after his friendly intentions had been understood, the mistrust gave way and food was placed before him with great hospitality. I am grateful to the Father for a large part of this information on the Taulil.

Although the Taulil are competent agriculturalists, they may, on the other hand, also be regarded as bold and persevering hunting people. The bulk of the work in the garden is the task of the women. The men roam in all directions in the forest and hunt wild pig, cassowaries and marsupials with spears; they fish with nets for many kinds of fish and crayfish in the numerous streams.

They have their own unique language, which is totally different from the language of north-eastern Gazelle Peninsula. The Butam too would have had a unique language. However, they are also familiar with the language of their northern neighbours with whom they currently converse, which indicates earlier, far more peaceful communication.

The Taulil language manages without any sibilants, just like that of the inhabitants of north-eastern Gazelle Peninsula. The affinity of both languages is striking, as with the Baining language. This is not surprising, since the Taulil tribe is wedged between both of these large tribes and has undoubtedly been combined first with one then with the other over many years, and has been influenced by both sides.

The population, which has melted away to about 300 people currently, has much in common with their north-eastern neighbours in terms of manners and customs. For example, they have the ingiet society in common, and thereby, also, the banning of consumption of pork by the male members.

Father Eberlein tells me that a second society exists as well, consisting of all the warrior men and youths; the members of this society cannot eat the flesh of the white cockatoo, nor that of the red and the green parrots; the pigeon, raven, a species of falcon, the flying fox, and particular species of fish and certain types of vegetables are likewise forbidden to them (tambu). The superstition exists that should they disobey this prohibition, they will lose their lives in the next battle.

d. The Tribes of the Central Part of New Britain

A number of linguistically different tribes dwell south of the isthmus which separates the Gazelle Peninsula from the rest of the main island, in the mountains bordered to the east by Wide Bay and Jacquinot Bay, and to the west by the high volcanoes of the Father group. However, as far as we can judge today they belong to a common ethnographic province.

Only in recent times has there been success in making contact with these tribes. A number of younger people have been recruited as plantation workers; several of these have been taken in hand by the Catholic mission, and here Brother Hermann Müller has not only studied the language with great diligence and endless patience, but also made numerous writings on manners and customs, demonstrating that we have before us a tribe significantly different from the tribes that live on the Gazelle Peninsula.

We owe the first more detailed account of this region to the Wesleyan missionary Brown who visited it in 1878. However, he did not go far beyond Henry Reid Bay and his description of this journey, given in the Proceedings of the Royal Geographical Society, justifies our assumption that he encountered the mountain tribe of the Gaktei who were then undertaking a military expedition against the Sulka who lived on the shore. The Gaktei tribe inhabits the mountain ridges between Open Bay and Wide Bay. It is probably identical with the Paleawe whom Father Rascher, while advancing inland from Open Bay, came across in the mountains; possibly it also inhabits part of the southern Gazelle Peninsula and is identical with the tribes encountered at Cape Bogengang and Cape Buller.

Suffice it to say that we still know very little about the Gaktei, and what we do know is based on the evidence of the Sulka. The Gaktei tribe seems to be in a state of constant feud with the Sulka tribe, and over the course of time the latter has been driven from the shore region in Henry Reid Bay, which it inhabited in earlier times, and pushed further southwards.

The Sulka distinguish two further neighbouring tribes, the Tumuip, a mountain folk, and the O Mengen, who occupy the shore in Jacquinot Bay and in Waterfall Bay as well as the mountains behind.

The communication between these three tribes is a peaceful one; they undertake trade by barter and enter into marriages with one another; on the borders of the various tribal territories there are villages where members of the different tribes dwell peacefully alongside one another. 77

The habitat of the tribes extends over the highlands interlaced with deep gorges and valleys which I have mentioned earlier. From the beaches to the mountain ridges and peaks, the eye perceives numerous, carefully laid out and maintained gardens, from which one might infer quite a substantial population. Several years ago, while aboard HIMS Möwe steaming close inshore looking for an anchorage, we were accompanied on the shore by a numerous swarm of people, and new crowds were seen hurrying from the mountains in wild haste over the steep paths down to the shore, probably attracted by the sight of a ship that was slowly approaching in such immediate proximity to the shore. Numerous rivers and streams furrow the valleys; the most significant are the Mävlu (Powell River) and the Vulvut (Henry Reid River), both emptying into Henry Reid Bay.

In the following passage I will discuss mainly the Sulka tribe; the descriptions are based on the writings of Brother Hermann Müller.

The Sulka, as already mentioned, oppressed by the Gaktei over the course of time, have had to retreat further towards Cape Orford; not long ago they also inhabited Brown Island not far from Cape Turner, and still visit this island in their canoes today to catch fish and turtles. They are safe here from their enemies, the Gaktei, since the latter have neither canoes nor can they swim.

The tribe falls into two divisions. Men of one division can choose only women from the other for marriage, and the offspring belong to the mother’s division. Sexual congress between members of the same division is, as virtually throughout Melanesia, regarded as incest, and the guilty party is punished by death. Each division breaks down further into various families, kha (branch) or ngausie (vine). In each division nine such branches are recognised.

Among the Sulka the girl chooses her husband. She ‘sets her heart on the man of her choice’, as one says literally: ‘T’el ka ngaung mang.’ As a rule she pours out her heart to her father or another close relative, and the latter says something like: ‘Wait, we will invite him, in order to work on your behalf.’ He then goes to the young man in question and puts the marriage proposition to him. If the latter is willing, he is conducted to the bride’s compound where she has already prepared him a roasted taro which she hands, with a neck ornament, to him on his arrival. Acceptance of this gift is regarded as consent. The youth gives the neck ornament to his parents, upon which they pass a reciprocal gift to their son for his bride. The latter gives this in turn to her parents. The youth now remains in the compound of his future in-laws and assists his father-in-law in his work, especially in establishing a new garden for the young couple. After some time a day is decided upon for the bride’s father to lead her to her intended, when numerous spectators turn up. The father takes his daughter by the hand, leads her to her bridegroom and hands her over to him. The latter takes the bride by the hand and together they take the path to his parents’ compound; all the spectators follow. The youth hands the bride over to his mother and a pig is killed which, together with local dishes, is divided out among the spectators, who then go their separate ways.

The young bride, who henceforth until her wedding day is called a mogäang, now begins the life of a recluse, which often lasts for several months. In the rear of her in-laws’ hut, a dwelling is prepared for her by means of a partition. She must stay here with another young girl, the bridegroom’s sister or niece, who is called a savlaure during this time. During this period she is forbidden to touch taro that has been roasted between stones, meat, fish, and certain kinds of fruit, as food. Also, she must not drink water; she can quench her thirst by chewing cane sugar. Her food, consisting of certain fruits and taro that has been roasted in the fire, is prepared by the savlaure. The mogäang herself must touch nothing to make fire or to roast. The savlaure cuts the roasted taro tubers up into small pieces after she has thrown away the charred outer shell, for the mogäang must not touch this either. The latter then puts the pieces in her mouth by means of the rib of a coconut palm leaf, since handling them is forbidden. During this time an edible type of red earth is also given her to eat. The mogäang dare not be seen by any man; if she has to go out, she wears a long cloak of banana leaves extending from her shoulders to her feet, or covers her body with a mat; she must whistle also while en route, so that men become aware of her and promptly get out of her way. The women put designs on her breast, torso and back, partly by incision with obsidian knives, partly by branding with glowing ribs of coconut palm leaves. The bridegroom has to pay the women for this, with pork. During this time he is building his house.

This isolation of the bride has a great similarity with the isolation of young women in the Rossel Mountains of New Ireland.

When the period of isolation has expired, the wedding day is announced; pigs are slaughtered and food dishes prepared in quantity. The night before, the women come to the compound and spend the night singing with the mogäang; early in the morning they take her down to the water for a bath. After this they chew the aromatic vankie fruit, spit the chewed pulp over the bride and rub it 78in. She is then given a new loin cloth, and adorned with brightly coloured Dracaena leaves, and the necklaces and armbands given for this purpose by the bridegroom. This procedure is accompanied by the continuous singing of the women. Meanwhile the men in the compound are given gifts. When the bride is adorned according to local custom, she is led into the compound, where she is already awaited. Then the women present a dance and afterwards receive gifts. This brings the celebration to an end; the visitors gradually leave, and the newlyweds remain in their hut.

We now encounter the peculiar belief that man and woman, married and unmarried, are defiled by sexual intercourse. This contamination is called a si̥le, pronounced something like ‘a sle’. The married ones can cleanse themselves from this defilement by a process learned at their marriage – the men from the men, the women from the women. Unmarried ones afflicted with sle are avoided, and children are warned away from them by their parents. The contamination is supposedly detectable in their eyes. Nothing is accepted from them and particular care is taken to ensure that they do not approach the dance instruments (o kol). By their mere presence the painting on these instruments is sullied. One who is afflicted with sle will die of it, in the natives’ opinion, unless a particular ceremony of purification is conducted on him. Therefore those who have transgressed must immediately confess and ask someone to cleanse them.

The purification ceremony for men proceeds publicly as follows. A certain quantity of coconut kernel is crushed and mixed with sea water and ginger, accompanied by the murmuring of magic spells. After the contaminated person has drunk this mixture, he is thrown into the sea and has to take with him the leaves from which he has taken the medicine, and place them under stones on the sea floor. After this bath he throws away his previous items of clothing and wraps a new loincloth round himself. While this is going on, the men sitting on the beach sing a certain song. Those who came across the two people during sexual intercourse are regarded as unclean as well, and require purification, which is, however, much simpler in this case.

When a woman gives birth, the consequence in the natives’ eyes is that the men become cowardly, weapons lose their strength, and germination capacity is removed from taro slips destined for planting. To prevent this, the following ceremony is undertaken. As soon as it is known that a woman has given birth, the male inhabitants of the compound assemble in the men’s house (a ngaulu), bringing branches of a strong-smelling type of tree; they break the twigs off and place the stripped leaves on the fire. All those present take twigs with young shoots in their hands. One of them pronounces certain words over ginger held in his hand, and then shares it among those present. The latter chew it and spit it onto the twigs, which are then held over the fire and later fixed onto the shields and weapons in the house, the taro slips, the roofs and over the house doors.

The newborn receives from the mother the name of one of her relatives.

The firstborn sons and daughters in most families are favoured more than the other children. Among poorer families this occurs less frequently, because the means for the required festivities are lacking. When the firstborn children have grown up, a feast is given in their honour, at which the boys become o teivol (that is, the favoured one, the sublime, the unapproachable), and the girls become o kuhuingol (with the same meaning). At these feasts, given by the parents with the other relatives also contributing, the child sits on a seat, with neck, arms, shoulders and loins decorated as much as possible. The hair of the head is cut all round and adapted so that it forms a garland around the head. The boys are naked, the girls wear normal clothing. Thus the honoured ones sit and are admired by the gathering throng. Now clothing of the boy takes place. A close relative steps up to him, rubs his hips with a new loin cloth, murmuring soft magic spells over him, and then dresses the child in the new loin cloth. From now on the boy must no longer go about unclothed. Then various masked people appear and perform a dance, after which all those present are given gifts. On this day the teip is also initiated into the secrets of the masks; he is led into the mask house where everything is shown to him, and it is impressed upon him most emphatically not to divulge anything about this to women. Before his eyes a volunteer is cudgelled soundly, and he is threatened with the same punishment should he ever disclose the secrets to women. The man who was beaten receives a new loin cloth as reward for his pains.

In order that a child swiftly learns to walk, his little legs are tapped with grass stalks while speaking the words:

That is, ‘Light foot, light foot, be nimble so that you walk and stand.’

In order that the child quickly learns to talk, his mouth is tapped while saying: ‘Gu nere, gu nere! Ja muiiang i tit kar i nan! Ja muiiang i lenar!’ That is, ‘Speak mouth, speak mouth! Affront your father and your mother; insult your friends!’

To wean a child, it is taken to a neighbouring compound so that it does not see its mother. As a substitute for maternal milk, cane sugar is chewed, the juice spat into the cupped hand, and fed to the child. 79

The boys are soundly beaten by a masked man, a mongan, so that they develop strongly and become big.

When the boys have reached a certain age, about ten to fifteen years, they are circumcised. Occasionally the entire population of neighbouring villages gather for this ceremony. The operation takes place in the men’s house; the instrument used is a sharp obsidian knife. After circumcision the sides of the boys’ noses are pierced. Those circumcised must remain in the house until their wounds have healed. For eating and drinking they behave like the mogäang. If they go out, they wear a mantle as she does and the kol instruments are blown to warn the women to go out of their way. When their wounds have healed somewhat, they are led, over several successive days, to an isolated spot on the seashore. Coconut kernels are grated, laid on a taro leaf and sea water is poured over them. Then Dracaena leaves are steeped with another plant (porkhe). Someone murmurs an incantation over ginger roots, chews them, then adds the chewed mass to the mixture. Upon this, the boys are seized one by one, raised in the air and thrown into the sea. In order that each one tumbles in a somersault, the person involved in lifting the boy has to hold the boy’s hair firmly between his teeth to align the boy in the proper position. After the bath they are given some of the grated coconut kernel to eat, and they have to smear their bodies with the mixture, using the Dracaena leaves. After use the latter are laid on young holaut saplings, because it is believed that one will then grow as rapidly as these saplings.

At the time of circumcision the boys are called a vorongtuk (that is, literally ‘the noses’), and the men in attendance are called o savlaure.

When the wounds have fully healed, a great feast is presented. On the morning of the feast day the vorongtuk are bathed, smeared and adorned like the mogäang on her wedding day. They are then led to the compound where men and women dance. On this occasion various masked people also dance. The vorongtuk watch the dancing from a scaffolding erected for them, or from the roof of the house. In several villages the dancers take them on their shoulders and dance round with them. From now on they can be seen in public again, but persons of the opposite sex must still get out of their way, and above all must initially avoid any relationships with them.

The Sulka are of the opinion that circumcision is essential for procreative capacity, and for invigoration and strong growth of the youths. Those who have evaded the festive and public circumcision, probably to avoid the associated costs, are circumcised secretly.

An important ceremony in the life of a young Sulka is the blackening of the teeth. The black substance a kät traded from the Tumuip (probably a manganese-containing earth) is mixed with the grated bark of a tree, girpil; the mixture is then called a mui. From the moment when the blackening is carried out on the youths, they are called o gitvungol 80for the rest of their lives. Usually the ceremony is undertaken on several youths at the same time. The young men must lie in front of the fire, protecting their bodies from the heat with pieces of wood or banana trunks in front of them. When the blackening is spread on the teeth they must get them as close to the fire as possible, while the men assisting cover their eyes with their hands so that they suffer no damage from the heat. The operation naturally draws many inquisitive visitors into the compound again. Some of the men stay in the house, some outside; all the women sit in the open. A song is sung during the ceremony:

Should the blackening not stay on the teeth, it is the fault solely of the gitvungol. They say: ‘they have something evil on their hearts’, and first have to confess this. If they have acknowledged anything, one of the men assisting takes a piece of wood and spears it towards the fire while uttering certain words, according to the deed committed. Upon this, the black should stick fast.

As soon as the first coat is dry, they cry: õh!ũh! ẽh! and a second coat follows. Meanwhile the guests are entertained with pork, yams and taro. Soft food is pushed to the back of the mouths of the gitvungol so that they can swallow it directly without having to chew it. When they want to drink, water is trickled into their wide open mouths.

In order that the blackening remains firmly on the teeth, strings are bound onto the little fingers, the little toes, and the hair of the head, with incantations. Coconut palm fronds are plaited together and fixed in the house for the same purpose. When going out, an accompanist must rattle an instrument called ve̥ren to scare away certain birds and lizards, whose very glance is sufficient to cause the blackening to disappear from the teeth.

When it has been determined by the experts that the blackening has soaked in well and is fast, the gitvungol are led down to the water and bathed, while spells are again uttered over them. The attached magic strings are removed and bound on certain plants; the head hair is shorn round the head, while being retained in the middle; then they are smeared and painted, given a new loin cloth, and a new necklace and a new little bag, a gol, are hung round their shoulders. They are given a lime container in one hand, betel leaves in the other, then they return together to the compound where the guests are entertained to a celebratory meal.

Now in order to remove blackness that perhaps penetrated the body during the ceremonies and to prevent it causing harm, ginger roots hung in the house for precisely this purpose are taken to the sea several days later, crushed, and the expressed juice, mixed with sea water, is given to the gitvungol to drink. Then with grated coconut kernel in their mouths they are thrust into the sea, where they have to swim for a distance underwater. On emerging they have to eat up the grated coconut in their mouths and then they return to the compound.

In the days before this purification ceremony they must avoid contact with women, and are not allowed to drink water when they feel hot. If when overheated they go to the water to drink, they must keep the little toe or the little finger in the water long enough until they are cooled off. They declare that the kät might tempt them to consort with women during this time. Should they not resist the temptations, the kät leaves them; they are ridiculed and their teeth become white once more.

When a Sulka dies, all the natives from neighbouring compounds assemble round him to weep and wail. The dead person is stretched out on his bed and adorned; the interior of the house is also decorated. The dead person’s garden is destroyed; edible fruits are shared out, young fruit trees uprooted, pigs killed and distributed, and the dead man’s weapons are broken. On the death of wealthy and prominent men their wives are also slain. The guests remain by the corpse, which is buried the following day with much lamentation. A narrow, deep hole is dug inside the house and the dead person is fixed in a sitting position on a specially constructed crossbeam. The upper body rises above the hole, and over this a small tower-like structure is erected and well covered with banana leaves. The hole is lined with leaves in such a way that no soil touches the corpse. Stones are laid round the little tower and a fire kindled and kept alight. The relatives sleep for a time by the corpse, the men on one side and the women in the other half of the house.

After a time the driving out of the dead person’s spirit takes place. The time appointed for this banishment is kept totally secret so that the spirit does not hear of it and perhaps prepare to resist. On the previous evening, many dry coconut leaves are dragged together, and very early the following morning, when the kau-bird sounds its first notes, the natives suddenly raise a great cry; they strike the walls of the house, shake and rattle it, light dry coconut leaves and leap in all directions with them and then throw them on the path. They believe that the spirit of the dead man, terrified by all this, will make himself safe elsewhere. Those who have slept by the grave are now thanked with pork and produce, and from then on sleep in their own houses again.

When the corpse’s flesh has completely putrefied, the remains are taken from the grave and wrapped in leaves. The bundle containing the 81remains is hung up in the house. After several days a memorial feast takes place in the dead man’s honour. The pork and produce for this are laid out in advance, in portions for the individual families. Then at the feast the son of the dead man puts the bundle of his father’s remains on his shoulders and assigns each family their pork and produce, after which he takes the remains back into the house. At the feast, which lasts for three days, men and women dance, the latter with and without masks.

If someone builds a new hut, the remains are transferred from the old dwelling to the new.

Natives who have no relatives, or who have done evil in the locals’ opinion, or who have been slain outside the compound, are not buried inside the house on their death. Their corpses are laid on rocks, on scaffolding in the forest, or buried where they were slain. Those who have died suddenly are not buried. A frame is made in the house, the body wrapped in leaves and left to putrefy on the frame inside the house. Fruits are laid before the closed door of the house and the compound is abandoned.

In order to protect their treasures, their necklaces, their armlets, their dog and possum teeth and the like from theft, many bury these things in the forest, in an old wooden drum covered with a stone. If somebody dies without having disclosed the hiding place of his treasure beforehand, his spirit remains with it in the form of a large mouse. So if the heir is looking for the treasure and frightens the mouse away, he need look no further. Then the spirit appears to the searcher in the night and says: ‘You have hunted me from my treasure, go and collect it!’ Next morning the lucky person goes to the place where he roused the mouse and digs up the treasure.

In mentioning festivities, pork is nominated as the mainstay of the meal. Nonetheless, among the Sulka there are both men and women who do not eat pork and who are called o lapgiel, to distinguish them from o ngemsilang, the pork-eaters. The mother decides whether her child will be a lapgiel or a ngemsilang. The lapgiel form no special secret society. While others are presented with pork at feasts, the lapgiel receive neither fish nor the flesh of other animals. The lapgiel who have been unfaithful have no special punishment to fear, and are only branded by being named lapgiel peaik.

When a child dies, the father must pay the maternal uncle a gift consisting of shell money, armlets, and so on, for the loss of a member of the family.

After death the person’s soul comes to a place called Mlol. They have only unclear, blurred concepts about the life of the spirit at this place, which the Sulka imagine is situated ‘within the earth’. Before the spirit gets to Mlol it encounters two rocks, Kilkil and Kovangal, where it is questioned about its life. If it is generous it may travel on further; but if it is miserly it must wander back to the south into the region of the O Mengen. There it is transformed into a rock, and must stand in the surf.

Spirits drink from the rivers Lonan and Lopo. Those who have been slain must drink the bloodstained water in which they have bathed.

During the night there reigns great fear of the spirits of the dead, because it is believed that they wander around at that time and feed on humans. One kind of spirit, a kavengol, shines by night like a glow-worm. In the minds of the Sulka shooting stars are souls that are tossed into the air to plunge into the sea. The tail moves because other souls have bound dry coconut leaves to it and set them alight. They then blaze during the flight through the air.

The kot is a higher being, hostile to humans. All violent, natural events like earthquakes, thunder and lightning also bear the name kot. The most feared of them all is lightning, the unfailing avenger of various transgressions. A kot is also believed to dwell in some waters. For example, a kot in the form of a snake lives in the Vleomem River, and in the Lerum River there is one in the form of an octopus. If a stranger comes and bathes in one of the designated rivers or drinks from them and laughs about it, the kot takes possession of him and creates stones and worms in his body, so that he becomes extremely ill and will die unless a sorcerer is successful in driving out the kot. This occurs by laying taro leaves and ginger on the chest and trunk of the victim and uttering spells. If the sorcerer is lucky and the operation is successful, amid universal astonishment the stones or worms come out of the victim’s body onto the leaves and are burnt.

In the destruction of the village of Pahalum which was overwhelmed by a landslide, the Sulka perceive an act of vengeance by the kot. They recount it as follows: the inhabitants of Pahalum had laid a snake on the fire to roast it, without realising that a kot lived in this snake. After the snake appeared to be roasted sufficiently, they took it from the fire to cut it up. But to their astonishment they noticed that it was still completely raw and fresh blood flowed from it. Then while they were busy wrapping it up again to roast it once more, it suddenly became dark and a strong earthquake arose, but only around Pahalum; the deafening noise was, however, heard in all the surrounding villages. A mountain collapsed on Pahalum and buried it. One single person, a small girl called Lonelil, escaped with her life, although a falling rock crushed her leg. A stream, Sirar, bubbled forth from the ground on the unfortunate place, and now flows where the village previously stood.

In the waters and caves in the rock there are, according to Sulka, beings with bodies like humans, only more coarse and misshapen. These so-called mokpelpel or vutangmem live on certain plants and totally devour humans; hence the great fear of them. Oddly, the mokpelpel men are said to remain 82in their dwellings all the time and are seldom seen, while the women often go out. However, the latter can be heard from a great distance, because their extraordinarily long breasts make a clapping sound when they move. Thus if they hear a mokpelpel woman approaching, they hammer on a tree with a stone axe; then she will immediately turn back.

The existence of dwarfs is universally affirmed by the Sulka. These live in rock crevices and steal fruit from the gardens. Since they are very small in stature, they stand on one another’s shoulders to reach the fruit, which they carefully break off so that they do not fall to the ground and make a noise. The fruit, which is passed down from hand to hand to the ground, is received by their headman.

In the village of Kolvagāt lives a man named Kolol, who keeps two stone figures sitting on the floor of a dark, specially constructed house. One is called ngur pei (our grandmother) and the other ngur es (our grandfather), and their names are uttered in ceremonies of the supernatural. They are brought produce as tribute, and this is left with them to rot. When Kolol positions the figures so that their faces are turned towards each other, the gardens should flourish. But should he place them with their backs towards each other, famine would arise and people receive a setback. An ancestor of Kolol, while digging at the foot of a mountain, is said to have come across these two figures and to have built a house for them at their request.

The mystical ceremonies used to effect a cure from illnesses, wounds and sores are called a peim. For this they take ginger, lime, betel nut and betel leaves, and these are chewed. The sick person is brought into contact with the mixture, and signs are made on his body while uttering certain magic words. If the desired effect does not occur, then this or that was incorrect during the ceremony. But in all cases the sorcerer must be compensated for his troubles.

In order to bring alleviation to a pregnant woman during the pain of labour, a man who has empathy with her pretends to be ill, lies down in the men’s house and bends himself up as frequently as the pregnant woman’s cries reach him. The men gather, and busy themselves as though they wanted to alleviate his pretended pain. This goes on until the birth has occurred.

The following sorcery is used to cause a girl to desire a particular person. The person takes Dracaena, murmurs magic words over ginger, chews it, then places it on the Dracaena leaves and rubs it in while uttering the name of the girl in question. The leaves are then hung in the house and a fire kindled below them; this takes place on the evening before a dance. On the day itself the person gets up early, pours chewed, enchanted ginger into a leaf funnel with sea water, and covers his chest and back with this mixture by means of the Dracaena leaves. According to custom, the youth lays the bundle of leaves on a hut post and goes to the dance. When he sees the girl he ventures near her, and attempts to touch her with his back. Now when the girl sits down afterwards, she swoons, and in answer to those around says: ‘So-and-so has enchanted me, I want to marry him. Ask him to come and cure me.’ Then the young man enchants water and gives it to her. She drinks it and recovers. After the usual ceremonies the pair are then married.

If a young man develops a fancy for a girl, he can also use the following procedure to win her reciprocal love. He wraps certain types of plants in banana leaves, lies the bundle on a fire in an isolated place and sings a song in which the name of the girl in question is repeated over and over. He continues this for several days, until a dance takes place somewhere. On this occasion he rolls a type of cigar out of enchanted tobacco leaves and gives it to one of the girl’s relatives, who has been let in on the secret, to smoke. The latter smokes part of it right in the girl’s vicinity and blows the smoke in her face. He gives the rest back to the maker, who cuts it in two and places one part in the nest of a type of biting ant, and lays the other on the fire. During the night the girl suddenly experiences a strong affection for the young man. She will cry for him in public, take his hand, and beg him to marry her. Even if the youth repulses her apparently coldly, she will not give up pursuing him with pleas and cries. If she is restrained, then as soon as she is free again she runs to the young man and does not give up until he marries her.

If a wife runs out on her husband, the latter can avenge himself on her in the following way. He makes a noose out of twine, creeps carefully near the house where his wife is staying, and holds the open noose in readiness while he murmurs spells over it. As soon as the woman speaks he pulls the noose tight. Then he makes a fissure in a certain type of creeper and sticks the knotted twine in it. As soon as the first rain falls on the woman, her limbs will buckle, she will receive wounds, and generally become emaciated and die, unless a sorcerer succeeds in removing the spell. This procedure is called ‘voice binding’ or ‘noise binding’, and can also be used against men.

Another procedure is as follows: the husband attempts to obtain hair from the runaway wife, puts this in a hollowed-out fruit and carries it about with him for a while, waiting in hope that the wife returns. If this is not the case he throws the fruit with the hair into water where the ko-t lives. The latter is then reputed to enter the woman and gnaw away at her from within, so that she dies in great pain.

If the husband binds the hair to a certain type of swallow, the woman will then become fickle and run from one man to another.

If a cunning wife notices that her husband has 83some of her hair, she goes back to him, acts as though she wants to stay with him, tries to get hold of the hair and then flees with it.

If a wife refuses to let herself be abused by a husband, the latter can avenge himself in the following way. If the woman is a mogäang, the husband watches in the vicinity of her house when the moon is in the first quarter. As soon as the woman goes out in the moonlight to relax from her captivity, the husband blows lime from his hand towards the moon and whispers the words: ‘ivu, ivu, ivu, vur̃!’ This is supposed to cause her to bring monsters into the world or to become pregnant so frequently that she must soon die.

Still another behaviour is as follows: fruits are cut from three different trees, or a hole is bored in them, lime is sprinkled into the crevice or hole and certain spells uttered. The fruit is then crushed on paths that the woman must traverse, or buried. If the woman steps on the fruit or a piece of it, she becomes pregnant so often that she dies because of it. If a man has yearnings for a woman and she wants nothing to do with him, he can make her well-disposed towards him in the following way. He takes a coconut, murmurs spells over it and spits on the kernel. The nut is positioned where the girl or woman must eat it. When this happens, she loses her resistance against the man and willingly follows him.

To make the birth more difficult for pregnant women, the following method is used. The husband who wants to punish his wife in such a way pretends to be ill and must not speak. From time to time he moves his arms and legs convulsively, which is supposed to result in the foetus also making such movements, thereby causing the mother pain. When he believes that he has given the wife enough pain, or he fears that she will die, he pretends to be well again, and the wife will give birth without further difficulty.

A very widespread means of hurting people is mumut-sorcery. First of all they try to obtain food scraps, or the remains of a betel nut, or a betel leaf from the person to be harmed, and take this to the sorcerer. The latter divides this into two portions, and makes two little packets. He places one of these on the ground and kindles a fire over it; he ties the other to a rod by means of a cord, and sticks this near a pool in the ground so that the cord with the packet stretches into the water. He comes back after several days and now sees the spirit of the person who is to die sitting by the pool and staring in; he must approach very quietly so that he doesn’t scare the spirit away. He then goes to the fire that he has made and kept alight over the other packet, and there sees the same spirit sitting warming itself. Then the person in question becomes ill, just from the smell of a roasted taro tuber, which indicates to his relatives that he has become the victim of mumut-sorcery. The bewitched person must die unless an antidote spell is used quickly. For this purpose, leaves are placed between the fingers and toes of the sick person, and likewise behind his ears. Then any kind of flying insect is caught, tied to a 84fine thread and sprinkled with lime on its abdomen. It is put into a bamboo tube and blown away so that it flies. It is now supposed to seek out the sorcerer and fly onto him; a crowd of spectators follows with shouts and cries; of course incantations are not lacking as well. On its flight the insect sprinkles lime onto the sorcerer and makes him recognisable to everybody. He is now beseeched to take the packets out of the fire and the water again; when he does this, the bewitched person becomes healthy once more. If the sorcerer cannot be moved by gifts amicably to withdraw the spell, then indeed force is used to compel him.

A drink of a grated, wild type of cucumber and the milk of a young coconut, well stirred with the bone of a flying fox should reduce the effects of the mumut-sorcery significantly.

Fruit trees are protected against thieves in the following way. Magical words are spoken over certain grasses which are laid on the tree trunks. Then if anyone approaches he becomes insane, eats tobacco leaves and raw taro tubers and does other nonsense. He runs round the compound with spears, clubs and stones, chasing everybody out; if anyone remains he throws something at him. One can save oneself from him by calling out the words, o torhuk! o torhuk! immediately he lets the upraised arm fall. He continues his disorderly behaviour until brave men catch him, throw him to the ground, and tie him up. After a short period he is set free again, secret words are murmured over a small taro, a banana and a type of yellow earth and these are given to him to eat, after which he becomes rational again.

Another method consists of the head of a certain type of bird being laid on the trunk of the fruit tree. Whoever approaches, behaves as though insane and attempts especially to imitate birds. Or else malat vines are stretched out in the mixed garden and other bewitched specimens of the same kind are buried in the ground beneath the former. If someone steps on the buried vines his upper thigh will swell and he will break his spine.

Above all, every item that must be protected against theft is invested with bewitched objects that inflict injury on a thief who carelessly approaches them.

In treading on sma seedlings the thief contracts severe diarrhoea. A honpére plants cause headaches; ngitip seedlings have the effect of breaking the thief’s bones; coconut palms and betel palms are made safe from thieves by the bewitching of their own broad leaf-stalk ends, and tobacco plants are made safe by enchanted stones. Coming upon mat wood causes diarrhoea in the thief; whoever steps on has blossoms and dog excrement will lust to the point of madness and molest women in broad daylight, so that he must be slain.

Climbing up fruit trees that have been pelted with a bewitched stone will cause swelling of the testicles; treading on kisong seedlings causes a nasal ulcer, and on mip bark, ulcers in the armpit.

Even the murmuring of spells over fences will result in the thief who steals wood from the latter receiving a swollen head.

In addition, after the theft one can still reach the thief by sticking a human bone in the ground on the site of the stolen object; the thief will waste away and finally die.

For each of the evils that they incur by thieving, the thieves again have antidotes, except for the last-named, against which every means used proves insufficient.

A human lower jaw is wrapped with bark material, a layer of rattan is woven over it with gunhi bark and a piece of ginger tied on. The bone is exposed at both ends. It is worn into battle as a means of protection, on a string round the neck. If a weapon is raised against anyone who wears such a protection, he merely shows the bone to the attacker and the weapon falls from his hand so that he stands quite defenceless against the one attacked. However, against the Gaktei this protector is of no help, since they have similar ones that are much stronger than those of the Sulka and make the latter powerless. Also, a lower jaw gives no protection against common murder; only that the murderer of one who wears a lower jaw will die in the same way as the one whom he slew. Not everyone can create such a talisman, because only few know the necessary magic words, whose secrecy cannot be bought for anything in the world.

Using certain spells before immersion, one can be enabled to stay underwater for a long time. The same words also cure a chest infection. When the body of the sick person is rubbed with a taro leaf filled with water and wrapped with twine, while these words are uttered, the substance of the illness will go into the leaf with the water.

New canoes will be made swift by sprinkling with twigs during spells, and given protection against sinking. A new shield is brandished during incantations to make it light. By sorcery with ginger and words, catching nets will be made fruitful so that many pigs are enticed in. But should a bird’s feather be substituted for ginger, the net will rip and the wild pigs get out again.

The forest can be bewitched so that an enemy’s hunting remains a failure there; and there is another charm for a new house, to bring happy days to the inhabitants.

New drums, flutes and dance instruments must not be used before they are enchanted, to ensure marvelling and praise from the audience.

To make dogs aggressive so that they will attack wild pigs, a mixture of ground human bone, taro and buds of certain trees, enchanted with incantations, is thrust into the wide open mouth of the animal, 85whose upper and lower jaws are held apart by pieces of old loin cloth. As well as the above mixture, a ginger drink follows. Betel is chewed, and with certain incantations the dog’s paws, ears and muzzle are touched with it. After this the dog is thrown over the roof of the house in such a way that he comes down on the other side. Early the following morning the animal is given warm taro to eat, his eyes are washed with a vaul leaf while more spells are uttered, and he is then taken on the hunt.

A young pig is made pregnant by being given coconut with milk to drink and charms murmured over it, or else the same ceremony is used as that for women. Spells also have the effect that pigs grow rapidly and become fat.

If a patch of forest has been set aside for a new garden, then the day before they begin to clear it, ginger is thrown on it and trampled in. When the patch of ground is clean and they begin to plant the enclosure, again ginger is laid on the first fence plants; thus the whole fence will serve well. Ginger and a certain type of sugar cane are also the first plants to be planted in the enclosed site, with incantations. If there is a suspicion that the site has been enchanted earlier, somebody leaps about with a Dracaena and a long, painted stone with ginger on it, crying öh! öh! öh! while the hewn forest is burned. The enemy’s sorcery is thereby rendered ineffective. To promote the growth and prosperity of the taro and yams, one either leaps about with them, uttering spells, before they are planted, or chews betel and touches the slips to be planted out with spittle while again murmuring spells. Also, honpére twigs and ginger are stuck in the ground in their vicinity for the same purpose.

So that bananas and sugar cane flourish, ginger is planted nearby with incantations. Also for this purpose, many abstain from bathing in the sea, from the enjoyment of food for whose preparation sea water is used, and from taro which is well-cooked between hot stones.

When the coconut palms do not produce well, a Sulka kicks them with his feet in the very early morning as soon as the kau birds have sounded their calls, and utters spells at the same time.

While the gardens can be given advantage by sorcery, by use of other spells with the help of other media they can, on the other hand, be harmed, so that they fail.

There are also rainmakers among the Sulka. To enchant rain, stones are blackened with burned vankie fruit and laid beside certain plants and buds in the sun. After this, shrubs are laid in the water, the stones placed on them and then further shrubs on top, while a certain song is sung. Then a little house is built over the heap in the water and the rain will not be much longer in coming.

If it has rained long enough and they want it to stop again, stones are laid on the fire with incantations, and when glowing they are placed outside in the rain. The raindrops that fall on them burn themselves, and it stops raining. For the same purpose hot ash is flung in the air where, in the Sulka’s opinion, the rain gets burnt.

When an enemy lays out a garden, the Sulka, with certain words, can cause the occurrence of a prolonged drought, in which the garden must of necessity perish.

Stormy seas causing ill-favoured people at sea to drown, are summoned up in the following way. A feather is enchanted by using lime and hung in a little house over a fire. When the feather begins to swing to and fro over the fire the sea becomes stormy. To restore calm to the sea, they take the feather away from the fire. Another method for the same purpose is as follows. The Sulka catch two birds, a tongtong and a mursongik, take a feather from each and let them fly away again. The sorcerer ties the feathers to a cord with a kangi leaf, and attaches the cord to a fishing rod which he sets into the sand on the beach, so that the feathers hang down close to the surface of the sea. As soon as he has said his incantations he hides, and then the sea adopts a stormy motion. In thunderstorms a spear is set in the ground in front of the hut entrance, with the point upwards. This will prevent a lightning strike because they believe that lightning is frightened that it might hurt itself on the spear tip. The people believe that they drive away earthquakes by sounding the shell horns and striking the big wooden drums.

If natives come visiting a village, on that day the hosts plant neither sugar cane nor pit because they believe that it would not then germinate. Had sugar cane or pit already been planted on the day when visitors came unexpectedly, the cuttings are pulled out again and laid aside. At night the digging stick is laid outside so that it gets cold. In the evening a firebrand is thrown onto the path to the garden with the cry: ‘The day before yesterday warriors came (= the buds of the cuttings), today so-and-so has come with his warriors.’

Also, sleepiness overcomes the people on the occasion of a visit, so that they sleep in until broad daylight.

Anyone breaking the creeper a kopurik, or merely touching it, will have a sprained arm. If someone touches the fruit of the creeper a lopakau (which is bigger than a head), their head will swell as thick as the fruit.

If someone who is going fishing is bewitched – for example, with the words: ‘Catch human bones! Catch your spirit! Catch so-and-so’ (a dead person) – his labour is fruitless and he will not catch anything.

If the Sulka go to the Gaktei border and stop there, they do not name their enemies by name for otherwise these might come quickly and kill 86them. There they name the Gaktei o lapsiek (that is, rotten tree trunk), and believe that thus the limbs of their feared enemies will become clumsy.

By certain deeds the vengeance of the kot (see page 81) is provoked, so that the guilty person is struck by lightning or meets his death by some other natural event. Such actions are, for example, teasing a dog, forcing an animal to dance, killing a snake in the water, throwing live animals into the water, hanging a bird up by its feet, and so on. Also, whoever tells the old folktales in the daytime – this should only be done during the evening or at night – is struck by lightning.

When a boy eats the entrails or the foetus of a slain animal, his belly will be slit open in battle so that the entrails hang out. If a boy eats the flesh of a cassowary or a certain type of fish at the time his teeth are to be blackened, he will contract severe diarrhoea. If he eats the guvin fish, then at the appointed time when he has to hold his mouth over the fire he will develop a mouth as pointed as that of the fish.

A ring around the sun means that somewhere somebody has been slain. The ring encircling the sun is the blood of the slain person. A ring around the moon indicates that somewhere a great feast is going on. The phosphorescence of the sea is evoked by spirits, which bathe in the sea at night.

The children are forbidden to be too noisy and boisterous, because it is believed that their joy will cause a visit from native strangers.

If a person sneezes, the Sulka believe that somebody has mentioned his name.

The Sulka recount the following: several Luongan people (see tribal divisions) live apart from the others in separate villages. They prepare masks in the form of a great fish. When the mask is ready and deemed to be good, a man slides backwards inside it through the great throat. The mask is so big that he finds plenty of room inside. He takes lime and ginger with him to prevent the influx of sea water into the mask. The mask’s inhabitant carries a long, sharp stone with him for cutting, and now swims around with the mask, named lekal, looking for people. For example, if he spots someone swimming, he approaches this victim and cuts him through in the chest region, then pulls the lower portion of the body into the throat of the mask while withdrawing towards the tail end. A child is not cut through but merely killed, and taken in one piece. The lekal then swims back to his home, and boasts to his people about the deed perpetrated: ‘I have killed mine, now you go out and try it!’ He then pulls the catch he made out of the mask; after this exhibition it is buried. In heavy seas the lekal cannot make headway. When he tires he goes ashore, crawls out of the mask which he puts on his shoulders, and goes further along the beach on foot. Lime and ginger make him invisible. From time to time he is heard by the Sulka when he imitates the sound of a pig.

Another tale goes as follows: a long time ago there lived a man who saw himself reflected in the water. When he saw that he was ugly he sprang into the sea and has lived there ever since. His wife, who sprang into the sea with him, bore him many children so that now the rul people have become very numerous. If taro are taken to sea in a canoe, the smell attracts the rul people, and as soon as they are seen the taro are thrown to them. The rul people seize the taro, and no longer follow the canoe, which they otherwise would surely have bored holes through.

Certain sorcerers, o erīp, understand the secret methods that bring about the death of people. These killing techniques are called pur-mea (= bewitching people). This belief of the Sulka has a great influence on their lives, and without a knowledge of this, many of their usages and customs might remain inexplicable.

Every death of a strong person, apart from those who have fallen in battle or died by suicide, is ascribed to pur-mea and vengeance is demanded. However, the o erīp sorcerers can only use this particular spell against a person who is alone when encountered. As soon as there are witnesses, the spell does not work; this also explains the unwillingness of the Sulka to go out alone. The sorcerer kills his victim either by striking, strangulation, biting through the jugular vein, pressure on various parts of the body which should cause an internal haemorrhage, or by a thrust with part of a spear or a sugar cane through the anus into the torso, and so on. He has previously enchanted the murder weapon. In order to catch the victim, he lays a snare or throws an enchanted stone at him, to cause him to fall; then he leaps on him and kills him in one of the ways described. When death has occurred, the sorcerer throws a handful of enchanted soil over the dead person, who then comes back to life and goes home. Having arrived there he feels ill and lies down, perhaps saying: ‘I have been bewitched with pur-mea!’ This confession can still save him, because an antidote spell is then used. Unfortunately many do not make this confession, because they are angry with their circle of acquaintances who let them go out alone. Death occurs in the manner that the sorcerer has arranged, after a short or long period. Sometimes the dying person names his murderer shortly before his death, and the relatives then take on the obligation of avenging the death.

After the interment one man tears a bean pod apart before the eyes of the dead man (before the little tower has been wrapped over the upper body of the corpse). When night has fallen, an eye of the dead man comes out of the grave. It is shining, and 87small to begin with, but grows ever larger, buzzing like a flying beetle and going up and down in the house. Those present take stalks of pit, rub them between their hands and cry: ‘mōl! mōl! mōl! preng! preng! preng!’ or whistle. The eye then goes out the door and takes the path to the murderer’s dwelling. Rising and falling, it circles trees: the crowd follows, yelling and whistling, right to the murderer’s house. The eye goes inside and circles the murderer until he knocks it to the ground and lights a fire on top of it, upon which it disappears with a loud crack. Thus the murderer is identified.

Other methods of identifying the murderer are equally irrational. For example, a tree (Erythrina indica) is cut down, decorated, bewitched and set in a hole in front of the dead man’s house. Then, in response to questions, it will, by signs, give the identity of the murderer.

The obligation is on the dead man’s relatives to avenge his death by murdering the identified sorcerer who can, however, with sufficient necklaces and armlets, still buy his freedom; otherwise he must die, even though perhaps innocent. To carry out the vengeance the relatives usually hire a skilled, strong man, who accomplishes the task with a few assistants. After the deed he stays for a while with the relatives, who in turn must protect him from the vengeance of his victim’s relatives. Immediately the big drum is sounded, and a crowd of armed men comes to the house where the avenger is staying. The murdered one’s group comes likewise armed, seeks the body and buries it. The following day both parties assemble in the avenger’s yard. There is singing, the triton horn is blown, and the men perform war dances in which they throw their spears reciprocally into the shields. After all have received hospitality, a sham fight still takes place until finally gifts are distributed to the relatives of the murder victim, and peace is concluded. On a later day the murderer solemnly brings the murder weapon to the one who had hired him; the latter hangs it up in his hut and prepares a general feast as a fitting conclusion.

The depth of the belief in mystic murder, purmea, among the Sulka is demonstrated by the fact that the daily farewell greeting is an allusion to it. ‘Nga pur in’ (= they kill you!) is called after somebody departing, and ‘mur tugus’ (= all of us!) is his reply.

e. The Tribes of Western New Britain and the French Islands

The further westwards we go in New Britain, the less we know about the life of the inhabitants. From St George’s Channel to Dampier Strait there is only one European settlement, and any observations are extremely inaccurate and incomplete due to ignorance of the language. The natives of various northern districts of the Gazelle Peninsula do trade actively with the Nakanai district, but what they tell us of the habits and customs of the Nakanai people rings patently unbelievable, and must be taken with a grain of salt. According to the stories of these Gazelle Peninsula argonauts, the Nakanai people are far beneath them in every aspect, and they relish this in portrayals whose object is to present themselves as better, more accomplished people. This is a characteristic of all natives; every conceivable wickedness is laid at the door of the esteemed neighbour, often without any justification, and we can be fairly certain that with closer investigation the reality will present itself quite otherwise.

We are already quite well informed about the Sulka tribe. Through Father W. Schmidt (Globus, vol. LXXXVI, no. 5), who had access to Father Bley’s notes on the Sulka language, we know that these must be associated with the ‘Papuan languages’; that is, languages which have no recognisable connections with the Asian mainland. This is in contrast to the Austronesian or Malayo-Polynesian languages (Polynesian, Malay, Indonesian) which point for their origin to southern Indochina and possibly even to northern peninsular India. The same goes for the Nakanai language and likewise for the Baining language, and we might well accept that the further west we go in New Britain the more predominant is the Papuan element. As far as the ethnography of these regions is known to us, Papuan features are demonstrably dominant, thereby corresponding with the spread of the language.

The designations Papuan and Melanesian have been used fairly arbitrarily up till now. Only after we have become more closely acquainted with the languages of the groups known till now as Papuans and Melanesians, do we reach a position of being able to delimit the boundaries of both groups more rigidly and precisely. Previously these designations were really only geographical concepts, so that under Papuan we understand everything belonging to the large island of New Guinea, and under Melanesian all that which extends north-westwards from Fiji and New Caledonia in numerous groups of islands: New Hebrides, Santa Cruz, Solomon Islands, Bismarck Archipelago, as far as the Admiralty Islands, and those small islets further west. Within this region it is only over time that it will become possible for us to determine which tribes are recognisable by their speech as pure Papuan or pure Melanesian. Ethnographically or anthropologically one will perhaps never succeed in establishing a sharp distinction.

In the Sulka tribe the physical resemblance to the inhabitants of Kaiser Wilhelmsland is already striking, and this similarity is greater still in the people of the opposite coast of Nakanai. There is nothing to indicate that a close, intimate trade with the tribes of the Gazelle Peninsula ever took place, 88which would have led to a strong intermingling of both groups. On superficial observation Baining and north-eastern Gazelle inhabitants might perhaps be regarded as members of one and the same tribe; on the other hand cursory knowledge is enough to distinguish, for example, Sulka and Nakanai people from the inhabitants of the Gazelle Peninsula. The broad nose and the coarse facial features of the latter are only present to a lesser degree in the western neighbours. In the latter a semitic cast continually appears in the face, particularly the shape of the nose, which is found almost universally in New Guinea. The further westwards we go, the more common this feature is. I remember a few years ago, during a voyage to the Willaumez Peninsula in HIMS Möwe, together with the then imperial governor, Herr von Bennigsen, and Herr Geheimrat Dr R. Koch and others, having seen an elderly chief at Hannamhafen whose Jewish features struck us all. This resemblance became absurdly humorous when the old gentleman, at his own request, fitted my pince-nez on his protruding organ of smell, and unconsciously called to mind the typical Jewish bankers, so well known to us from pamphlets. This characteristic facial shape, which occurs particularly strongly in men, is the sole physical difference between the western tribes and the inhabitants of the Gazelle Peninsula. In skin colour, hair growth and body height I was able to find no difference, at least no general one. The Nakanai people are frequently distinguished by their tall stature; in general, however, body size does not go beyond average. Skin colour in western New Britain is on the whole somewhat paler than on the Gazelle Peninsula, but I believe this is due to local influences. In the plantations I have been able to observe that people from western New Britain seem paler on their arrival than the Gazelle inhabitants, probably because their homeland consists of shady forests. This paler shade had already disappeared one month later, when the people went about their daily work in the plantations.

One finds everywhere small nuances in skin colour within the individual tribes; and to use paler or darker skin as a characteristic feature, I regard as very misleading. Papuans and Melanesians have a brown basic colour, Polynesians a yellow-brown one; and within both of these groups extremes occur, on one side and the other, making it very difficult to recognise a basic shade. A very interesting example is instantly observable in the Bismarck Archipelago. Some time ago two Germans settled there, on a small island in the Duke of York group, sitting out in the sun naked for the entire day and maintaining a strongly vegetarian diet. Both people, who belonged to the very fair Germanic type have, after some time, as a result of this way of life, taken on the skin colour of the Samoans, and, were it not for the blond hair and beard, might be indistinguishable from the Samoan mission teachers, who are frequently active in the Duke of York Islands.

On a stretch of the south coast of New Britain, beginning about 15 nautical miles west of Cape Roebuck and extending as far as Cape Pedder, including the Arawa Islands offshore, we find a unique skull form produced by artificial deformation. In the entire protectorate I know of nothing similar or related. In the Solomon Islands this peculiar custom is also unknown; we come across it again only on the island of Malikolo (New Hebrides). The custom does not extend to the opposite, north coast of New Britain, although the inhabitants of both coasts are frequently engaged in peaceful trade along the land route. Deformation is practised by both sexes, but is not universal, for in each village a number of natural heads are also seen, as well as the deformed heads.

I have not been able to learn anything about the reason and purpose of this deformation; to my question: ‘Why?’ the answer was always given: ‘The women say that it is beautiful!’ I therefore tend to feel that we are dealing here with one of those widespread practices whose sole purpose is to enhance beauty. Thus skull deformation belongs with tattooing, scarring and wounding which the men of numerous native peoples undergo in order to appear more worthy to women.

Deformation is undertaken immediately after 89the child’s birth, by wrapping the head firmly with bark bandages, above the eyes. This wrapping is renewed daily and continues until the desired shape is obtained; that is, until the child is about 18 months old. Figure 10, on page 57, of a boy of about fourteen years old, is better than any description in demonstrating the peculiar shape of the deformed skull, for which these people have attracted the characteristic designation of ‘pointed heads’ from the local settlers. Apart from this artificial deformation of the upper head, the people are just like their neighbours both in their facial features and in other body form.

In each village there is a headman; if the villages are very large they often support several headmen. Nowhere does the headman seem to possess great power; he appears to be the central point around which the heads of the families or the oldest members of the families gather for advice. Both on the French Islands and Arawa I was able to observe that they threw out propositions of the so-called headman which differed occasionally from those of the older villagers, and that the same man submitted freely to the opinions of the majority. In all festivities the headman appears to be the leader, he is governor of the feast to some extent, and in battle too, if his age permits, he takes the position of a leader. At a celebration of peace between the natives of Arawa and a village opposite on the main island of New Britain, the festively decorated Arawa people travelled in their canoes to the village of their former adversaries. The Arawa headman delivered a speech to the mainland warriors assembled on the beach, which was replied to by one of the latter. Then betel nuts were offered by one group to the other and the Arawa people left their canoes and mingled among their former enemies. Pigs, dogs, produce of all kinds, fish, and so on, were then hauled out by both sides, and mutually distributed. However, according to people’s assertions wars must be very common, and a minor offence can lead to feuds and blood-letting. As a consequence, on sites where fairly large villages were to be found earlier, no houses or people are present a few years later, since the inhabitants have sought a new dwelling site. On the islands the villages are more durable, probably because their sites are more secure and less exposed to rapacious attack.

Fortification of the villages can well be ascribed to this general uncertainty. This consists of a palisade wall with a narrow entrance. In Nakanai these palisades are even doubled in places, and it would prove difficult for an enemy to pass undetected through these. On a brief excursion inland from Möwehafen I encountered extensive gardens that had been established by the natives living on the islands around Möwehafen. The shelter huts erected in the gardens were likewise surrounded by a double, high palisade, and at our approach the entire group of men sought refuge in their fortress. Only after long entreaties did they open the barricaded entrance and allow us to enter. Apart from a primitive hut there was nothing noteworthy, except for a fairly roughly made, wooden, slit drum which was being beaten loudly on our arrival, probably to give the neighbours warning. On our departure the drum was beaten again, and when we reached a similar fortress about ten minutes later we found the people armed, but calmly standing in front of the entrance. One could conclude from this that these natives too know how to send intelligible drum signals to their neighbours.

Pitched battles are not undertaken. Each side endeavours to surprise the other, and whoever perceives themselves threatened with this, retreats as quickly as possible. Nevertheless these wars can occasionally have a very bloody outcome and cost the lives of a relatively large number of people. In the bay formed between the western side of Willaumez Peninsula and the main island (Stettiner Bucht on the maps) there are numerous villages, formerly heavily populated. I visited one of these years ago, and then journeyed on to the eastern side of the peninsula, before returning. On the return journey the ship anchored off the same village, but although barely a week separated the two visits, I found the village, which had consisted of about forty huts, completely destroyed. The houses were ashes, and a frightful smell of corpses drove us quickly from the devastated site. Inhabitants of neighbouring villages, who came alongside in their canoes, told us that inland tribes had surprised the village and slain all the inhabitants. Since the nearest neighbours are quite often the most bitter enemies, I did not place much trust in these tales; yet in this case I may have been told the truth, for in the neighbouring villages I discovered great unrest; women and children did not venture outside the enclosure, and these villages had been reinforced and modified to withstand an attack. Whoever may have carried out the attack, this much is certain: no less than 100 natives had lost their lives.

We should not be surprised that population numbers are not increasing under such conditions, the more so since many other circumstances are contributing to the decline. It has frequently been presented as fact that colonisation by whites, and the illnesses and vices brought with them, gave rise to the universal decay of the people of nature. More particularly, the dying out of the people of nature has been ascribed to spirits, in the form of common schnapps. There may indeed be areas where schnapps has this result, yet in Africa, where enjoyment of this product of material culture is flourishing, no great decline is noticeable. In the New Guinea protectorate, schnapps cannot be blamed, since its delivery to natives is banned, and its importation for sale to the natives has never occurred. There are 90totally different factors leading to the destruction of the South Seas people. To come back to New Britain, a smallpox epidemic tore enormous gaps in the western part of the island years ago. The epidemic had been introduced into Friedrich Wilhelmshafen from Java, and the inadequate protective regulations resulted in the illness infecting a large part of the coast of Kaiser Wilhelmsland and then, by trade, leaping across Rook Island to New Britain, where it spread roughly as far as South Cape along the south coast and on the north coast as far as Nakanai. The result of this devastating epidemic, against which the natives were completely unprotected, can still be seen there in the significant decline of the previously quite numerous populations of the various districts, and one finds only mature adult men and women and the younger generation which was born after the epidemic. The population that was then in childhood and old age appears to have been totally annihilated. Not quite so devastating as epidemics, but nonetheless damaging, is the custom that on a native’s death his wives are strangled. This custom is widespread in western New Britain, and nowhere in the archipelago does abortion and infanticide occur to such an extent as here.

91No great care is taken in the construction of huts; the exceptions are those buildings that serve for certain celebrations and assemblies of the men, circumcision ceremonies in particular. In many places – for example, Nakanai and the Cape Merkus region – several families share one hut. These huts are long and low with several entrances; the interior is sometimes divided into different sections by mat walls, but just as often not. Here old and young dwell on the bare earth. In Nakanai men and women are often seen alongside the family pet, a fat pig, stretched out asleep, and it is self-evident that under such circumstances special attention is not paid to cleanliness. When the ground in the huts is sodden from heavy showers, dirty puddles appear and without further ado these are used as resting places for men and animals, so that it is often quite difficult to distinguish the pigs from the natives. On the French Islands when the terrain permits the huts are built in opposing rows, and I have observed this also on the Willaumez Peninsula; however, there is no general rule for group layout, for huts are found grouped around an open space or irregularly spread over it, with equal frequency. Towards the western end of New Britain we find reminders of the hut construction in Kaiser Wilhelmsland opposite, where as well as huts built on level ground there are also huts resting on poles, with a raised floor, below which is a free space for storage of all kinds of objects. In this area we also come across villages on poles, which differ only slightly from those in Kaiser Wilhelmsland. The open sea coast is never chosen for this; they prefer sheltered bays with shallow water, surrounded by mangrove swamps, which give the pole village inhabitants security against attacking enemies, partly as hiding places, and partly because they hinder the approach of an enemy, and in some places make it totally impossible.

Although the great majority of natives of western New Britain devote no great care of their dwellings, they are quite fastidious in their nourishment, and cultivate a fairly wide variety of foodstuffs. Tubers of taro and yams, especially the former, are planted in regular gardens, bananas are planted everywhere, and the coconut is not lacking either, even if not in great stands as in the northern half of New Ireland. We are largely unfamiliar with these tribes because of the low incidence of the coconut palm, since traders who establish themselves everywhere where there are products to barter, did not find a fertile field for trade anywhere here. The only exceptions were the French Islands, where large stands of coconut palms allow one to infer a previously significant population. Food is roasted over a charcoal fire, cooked between glowing stones, or cooked in bubbling hot springs as on the island of Naraga (French Islands). A more or less lively trade in earthenware cooking pots is carried out from the Tami Islands on the coast of Kaiser Wilhelmsland, especially along the south coast of New Britain as far as South Cape. This trade is less on the north-west coast and does not seem to extend beyond Cape Raoult. In those areas mentioned the familiar Tami pot is found occasionally, if only a few examples. People from Arawa advised me of the price of the pot, and even by native standards it is very high.

Pigs and dogs provide the natives with animal protein, and the various marsupials of the forest are also slain in great numbers for this purpose. Turtles are caught along the coast in great, wide-meshed nets. Similar nets, prepared from thicker cord and of enormous length, are used during forest hunting drives to surround great flat areas, into which the prey, mainly wild pigs, are driven.

I want to introduce here a peculiar, I might even say unique, industry, carried out in the region of Möwehafen – the harvesting of salt from the sea. Low huts are built with a simple roof to keep out the rain. Both side walls are open so that two light frames, one on either side, can be pulled out and pushed in again. These frames, about 75 centimetres wide, serve to support a large number of small troughs, made from pandanus leaves, side by side. The troughs contain sea water which vaporises when exposed to the sun. Through continued addition of sea water and the subsequent evaporation, a salt crust forms in the troughs; when this seems sufficiently thick, the leaf troughs are rolled together and tied in bundles, to be traded with inland neighbours. That salt harvesting did not extend far from here, even though salt water forms an almost universal trade item, is probably due to the great isolation of individual tribes one from another.

Eating utensils (and what can be regarded as such) are relatively extensive. Almost every adult male carries a spatula-like bone tool, used for breaking open betel nuts or removing the flesh from the coconut shell, on a cord round his neck or between arm and armring, or in the almost omnipresent 92shoulder bag. Sharp bamboo slivers and sharpened oyster shells both serve universally as knives for carving food. The coconut grater, a Cardium shell bound firmly to a little board, is never absent. Food is often served on fresh banana leaves; however, they also use plaited circular bowls or plates with or without a rim for this purpose, as well as oblong wooden dishes like those familiar on the Tami Islands. I have grounds for believing that many of the bowls that we encountered in the Tami Islands and around Finschhafen, were made on the south coast of New Britain, in the region between South Cape and Cape Merkus. Not only did the natives there mention that the Tami people have a predilection for bartering for the wooden bowls, but I also found bowls in widely varying stages of manufacture on the tiny inhabited islands round Möwehafen. The characteristic decoration which distinguishes one end of this type of wooden bowl, particularly the large specimen, was produced with care in every case, as was the smaller decoration on the side. This type of bowl is found from South Cape to the westernmost point, as well as on the Willaumez Peninsula and the French Islands. In both the latter regions, local manufacture is out of the question; the French Islands allude to the wooden bowls of the main island of New Britain opposite; and, on the Willaumez Peninsula, the interior of the main island is designated as the site of origin; probably the bowls pass along the trade route from one coast of the island to the other.

Cooking is universally a task for the women, although the men occasionally lend a hand, especially in roasting pig and dog. As with most Melanesians, the main meal takes place in the late afternoon, after the necessary material has been gathered during the day, from the gardens, in the forest, or on the sea. Any leftovers are packed in baskets and stored until the next mealtime; in this case when they get up in the morning they eat some of the food. Young coconuts provide drink only during festivities; usually cold water is drunk at mealtimes, and, almost without exception, empty coconut shells provide water containers, stoppered with a leaf, sometimes singly and sometimes two or three wound with cords and tied together.

Fire lighting is achieved by friction, as throughout the Bismarck Archipelago.

Luxury items of the natives of this part of New Britain are the same everywhere, namely tobacco and betel with the necessary adjuncts. Tobacco, which was introduced not long ago on the Gazelle Peninsula and the rest of the archipelago by the white traders, has already been in use for a long time in western New Britain, and without doubt had been imported from Kaiser Wilhelmsland opposite. The domestic plant is evil-smelling and has an absolutely frightful taste, no doubt partly as a result of insufficient preparation; nevertheless smoking has spread everywhere, and young and old seem to be imbued with the greatest sense of well-being when they exhale the dense, stinking smoke into the air. The plant is rolled together between the hands and wrapped in a green leaf; after the smoker has taken a few powerful draws, the thick cigar passes to the next man, and so on until the last remnant has died out. For chewing betel the same ingredients are used as elsewhere: areca nuts, betel pepper or leaves, and burnt lime. The lime containers are frequently prepared with great care, sometimes out of a flask-like squash, sometimes from a piece of bamboo cane.

The close relationship of these tribes with the Papuans shows especially in their ornaments and items of decoration. On the French Islands and Willaumez we encounter the wing-like armbands bedecked with Nassa snail shells. We find these from Cape Cretin to Friedrich-Wilhelms-Hafen; besides this, boars’ tusks and dog teeth stand in high regard, just as on the coast of Kaiser Wilhelmsland opposite. On the other hand forms are produced which have to be regarded as typical of certain regions. Figures 25 and 26 give an approximate idea of the richness of their jewellery, as well as of the resemblance to similar objects from New Guinea, and characteristic deviations of individual objects. Decoration is worn especially during dancing and festivities, although it is never entirely absent in everyday life. In Nakanai, in the region of Möwehafen, and on the Arawa Islands it is the men in particular who are distinguished by decoration; girls and women are less decorated and occasionally appear to borrow the men’s items of adornment. At any rate, I have not been able to observe a characteristic item of female decoration anywhere.

Plaited rings, especially piled high, serve as head decoration, and are worn on certain occasions in Nakanai (fig. 26, nos 17, 18). These rings, six to ten in number, are 1 to 5 centimetres wide; that is, the lowermost ring is the narrowest, each succeeding one is gradually broader. The outer rim of the flat ring made of fine plaiting, is sewn with scale-like shell discs (Nassa) laid over one another. Usually the narrowest of the rings is laid first on top of the cloud-like, combed-up hair, then follows the second and gradually the remainder, so that the broadest ring forms the uppermost layer. Instead of rings they also wear plaited caps, consisting of a single piece in the shape of a truncated cone, on the outer surface of which the Nassa discs are then sewn in a ring, achieving the same effect as with the rings piled on top of one another. Over this ornament the hair is frizzed out in the form of a hemisphere and pierced with the small bright feathers of various parrots, a hairstyle that has to be described as very tasteful and original. Powell, in his book, Wanderings in a Wild Country, gives an illustration of this hair decoration; however, it  93is arranged incorrectly, as he shows the broadest ring below and the narrowest above, instead of the order being just the reverse. Everywhere the face is beautified by painting; in Nakanai it is anointed with red ochre, and white lines of powdered lime are added around the eyes and over cheeks and nose. The nasal septum is pierced, as on the Gazelle Peninsula, and a cassowary pinion, decorated at the ends with Nassa discs, is pushed through the hole. Earrings are found everywhere, in the most varied shapes. A generally more extensive earring consists of a ring-shaped disc of turtle shell, 3 to 6 centimetres in diameter, whose outer rim is sewn with small discs of Nassa (fig. 26, no. 9). These earrings (sip on South Cape) are worn individually or in bundles of six to ten in the markedly extended ear lobes. On the island of Mérite (Unea) the ear ornament has a marked resemblance to a similar ornament on Kaniet and Wuwulo, where admittedly it is only worn by women, while on Mérite it is a distinction of the men. The uncommonly extended ear lobe, which hangs as far as the shoulder, is adorned with a large number of turtle shell rings, about 15 millimetres in diameter. The number of rings varies, and ranges from fifty to more than 100; on the lower end is a plaited band about 4 centimetres wide and 12 centimetres long, closely decorated with four to six rows of Nassa discs, pushed through and bent over, so that the whole ornament does not weigh much less than 0.5 kilograms. In the Arawa Islands they wear only this plaited band decorated with Nassa snails, from the end of which one or several sea snails hang; in this form it is called noknok.

Headbands are favoured especially in the French Islands and Willaumez; however, they are also found in the same form on the south coast of New Britain opposite, where they are called neningo. These are about 20 centimetres long and consist of a lower band of two to three rows of scale-like Nassa diskettes laid over the top of one another. Over this is a quadruple row of dog canine teeth, arranged so that the rows of teeth are placed opposite each other; that is, the points of all teeth in the lower row are pointed to the right, those in the second row to the left, in the third to the right, and in the fourth to the left (fig. 25, no. 5).

For pinning up the hair they use various comblike instruments, which are left sticking in the hair, partly to have them always at hand, partly also as ornament (fig. 25, nos 3 and 4). In the latter case the part of the pin or comb sticking out is sometimes decorated with bright bird feathers, and sometimes by being wrapped around with Nassa snail shells, coir seeds and so on. At Montague Bay the men wear huge wigs of cassowary feathers, attached to a hemispherical plaitwork covering the upper half of the head. On the crown is attached a bunch of red parrot feathers. I tend to regard this wig as a war decoration, possibly also a dance decoration; in any case I saw this head-covering only on my first visit, when through unfamiliarity with the whites, the people exhibited hostility; I did not see it later in use, although it was offered to me for sale.94

95The beard is removed, almost throughout the entire western part of New Britain and on the French Islands; partly by shaving with sharp obsidian slivers, and partly by plucking individual hairs of the beard. Various seashells are used for the latter purpose; the hairs are clasped between a pair of shells and removed with a sharp tug, or each individual hair is clasped between two thin cords that are twisted together. The hair is also twisted in with the cords and then pulled out.

Neck and chest ornaments are encountered abundantly in all tribes, and the closer one gets to the western end of New Britain, the more closely does this type of ornament resemble that of Kaiser Wilhelmsland, not only in form but also in production materials. Nassa snail shells and coir seeds are wound round the neck in various arrangements singly or in several strands as cords and bands, likewise strings of about 3-centimetre-long pieces of cassowary pinion, strung in such a way that the individual pieces are separated by two or three Nassa snail shells; coir kernels are also used instead of Nassa snail shells, but not as often. These types of strings are found both on the north and south coasts, and on the French Islands; they seem to be regarded everywhere as a form of currency; in any event they are stored in very large quantities, packed in baskets in the huts, so they are apparently not used exclusively as objects of adornment. For this purpose they are wound in numerous rows round the neck so that they hang down over the chest. Quite often the chest ornament hanging over the chest is attached to the neck ornament. The former, which also provides chest protection in many parts of Kaiser Wilhelmsland (which indeed is why we regard it as a battle ornament there), is exclusively an ornament here and is not in a position to protect the wearer against any kind of wound. On the northern side of New Britain and on the French Islands, we come across the familiar Ovula snail shells from Kaiser Wilhelmsland, attached in such a way that they abut one another on their long axes. Plaiting is attached at the joints, embroidered with Nassa shells or with coir seeds, and a triple-lobed network decorated with Nassa embroidery forms the lower part of the ornament (fig. 25, nos 10 and 11). On the south coast pig tusks seem to stand in higher regard than Ovula snail shells. As a rule they are arranged in pairs; the more closely they approach a complete ring shape, the greater their value. Smaller boar tusks which form only a half-circle, or are even smaller, are either attached in pairs or in several pairs to a 15- to 25-centimetre-long, rod-like plaiting that is decorated on the edges with Nassa snail shells; the attachment points are wound round with Nassa strings (fig. 27, nos 1-3). These types of chest ornament are always worn on strings of Nassa snail shells, arranged in rows like the tabu of the Gazelle Peninsula, or else in bands plaited from fine fibre in characteristic ways.

Nassa snail shells, which find such abundant use here as items of decoration, do not seem to hold the position of money as they do on the Gazelle Peninsula. On the greater part of the south coast of New Britain they are known as eddi, a name that calls to mind the plate-shaped neckbands, middi, of the Gazelle Peninsula. I refer to the more detailed description of this ornament in the discussion of items of decoration from the Gazelle Peninsula.

Besides the items of decoration already discussed, we find large polished rings made from seashell, attached to one another in pairs like the boars’ tusks, worn as chest ornaments, on both the north and south coasts. They are almost always produced from the thick end of a certain large species of Conus shell; I have never noticed Tridacna rings, probably because the art of boring is unknown.

Held in very high regard is a chest ornament of the large, golden-rimmed mother-of-pearl shell. The outside of the shell is ground clean and polished, and the closed end is completely removed so that only a half-moon-shaped piece of the shell remains. It is very difficult to get hold of these breast-plates, which are seemingly highly treasured.

Girdles are not worn everywhere but turn up occasionally. On Nakanai, strings of Pele discs from the Duke of York Islands, which have reached here by trading, are wrapped round the waist. On festive occasions men, especially, wear these strings in great numbers so that they form a thick pad. The Sulka and almost all the inhabitants of the south coast wear bark loincloths; these are up to 4 metres long and about 25 centimetres wide, and are often decorated with very tasteful designs.

Armlets are present in great abundance. On Nakanai they are prepared from turtle shell, and a great number, often as many as twenty, are laid on top of one another; they are then attached to one another by thin bast fibres. Trochus rings are everywhere, both those that are only slightly prepared, as well as those that are carefully ground and polished. On the north coast, west of the Willaumez Peninsula, the Trochus armlets are furnished with an engraved pattern and the indentations are filled with a black resin, so that a black and white design is produced, like that reproduced in figure 28. This type of decorated armlet is also found abundantly on the coast of New Guinea opposite, which it has reached through trading via the Rook Islands. Of far greater significance, however, are the plaited armlets, which display a very great diversity in form as well as in decoration, yet almost always show the greatest correspondence with similar objects from Kaiser Wilhelmsland (figs 25 and 26).

Complete armlets are plaited, and the plaiting 96consists of thin fibres about 1 millimetre wide, which in part retain their natural grey or greybrown shade, and are also stained red, yellow and black in part. The production is so painstaking that at first glance one believes that one is observing a dense, smooth tissue. Often the fibrous material is first plaited into cords 3 to 5 millimetres wide, which are then processed into armlets, by which the plaiting attains a rougher and coarser texture. In the French Islands, as on almost the entire north coast, but most frequently towards the west, they use a cord made of golden yellow fibre for such plaiting; this is identical to the cords that Dr Finsch illustrated in his Erfahrungen und Belegstücke, plate XXII (14), figure 3, from Finschhafen. These types of golden yellow cords cover a wide area; I have come across them both in Huon Bay and in Finschhafen, and also in Astrolabe Bay. They are prepared apparently as trade items, for west of the Willaumez Peninsula, as in Huon Bay, great hanks of this material were offered to me. Besides this plaited cord, a similarly prepared dark brown cord is found, especially west of Willaumez, and as a rule both are used together as material for armlets, in such a way that the golden yellow cords stand out as decoration against the dark brown background.

Seldom do the armrings consist of simple plaiting; in most cases they are sewn with Nassa shells. The edges are almost always embellished with a single or double row of closely abutting Nassa discs, often vertical rows of the same snail shell are laid transversely across the plaiting from edge to edge, or they form a zigzag line between the upper and lower edges. From Nakanai along the entire north coast and on the French Islands the armrings are not infrequently adorned on the upper edge with triangular single or double lobes, as we find so often in Kaiser Wilhelmsland.

These kinds of armrings from Willaumez can scarcely be distinguished from those of Finschhafen, although the industry is a local one in both places. Of course it is not impossible that these kinds of products also pass from hand to hand or from tribe to tribe along trade routes, or as gifts at festivities, as marriage gifts, and so on, and might occasionally be found far from their place of manufacture.

On the south coast armlets sewn with Nassa are worn less; here simple, closely plaited armbands 2 to 3 centimetres wide are more common. On South Cape, a bunch of white fibres or several long, bleached pandanus ribs are stuck in behind it.

On the Willaumez Peninsula and in the French Islands the wrist is encased in a cuff of densely packed plaiting. This cuff is not uncommonly plaited from variously coloured strips of fibre, so that bright patterns are created. In the same regions a very similar closely packed plaiting quite often also surrounds the ankle, and frequently extends 10 to 15 centimetres up the leg from the ankle joint. Both items are plaited directly onto the body of the wearer, and can only be removed by cutting off. Anklets made of 5- to 7-millimetre-wide strips of rattan, roll-shaped and 5 to 7 millimetres broad, are worn both in the north and the south.

The universally occurring decorative scars, found both on men and women, have to be regarded as body decoration. Usually arms and chest are decorated with these scars, in some places the upper thigh as well. They are very arbitrary in design and never form a particular figure; the most common are circles, or rows of several juxtaposed transverse or longitudinal scars.

Tattooing is only encountered very occasionally, and is restricted to single broad lines, either above the eyes or across the cheeks. These bands consist of closely adjacent lines, about 3 millimetres long, scratched with a sharp sliver of obsidian and then rubbed with black colouring material – ash from charcoaled coconut shell as a rule. In Nakanai you come across this tattooing most often, and it has undoubtedly been introduced from the Gazelle Peninsula natives, because it has the same patterns as there.

Weapons used in the western part of New Britain are the same everywhere, namely slingshots, spears and clubs.

Shields are borne everywhere as protection against wounding, just as in Kaiser Wilhelmsland; on the other hand bows and arrows have never been observed. Around South Cape we find a weapon that, in its style forms an exception for the South Sea islands and also for New Guinea, namely the blowpipe, a iu or lambu, and the dart blown from it, ingra. The blowpipe is not used as a weapon of war, however. It is used exclusively in hunting birds; yet it is noteworthy that this Indonesian instrument is encountered here. The blowpipe is made of various thumb-thick pieces of a particular, thin-walled species of bamboo joined together. The single tubes are carefully pushed into one another; the sites of the joints are smeared with resin and tightly wrapped with cords of fine fibre. The whole instrument is 3 to 4 metres long. The darts consist of 1-metre-long, thin bamboo slivers; one end is cut to a long, needle-sharp point, the other end is tightly wrapped in a down-like plant material over a length of 10 to 15 centimetres. In hunting birds, the hunter creeps as close as possible to his prey and then aims the long blowpipe, in such a way that he has a tree branch or something for support. The dart is then blown full blast out of the pipe, and an experienced hunter almost always hits his target over a range of about 20 metres. In hunting four-footed animals, especially pigs and wallabies, a spear is used in conjunction with the previously mentioned, wide-meshed, set nets into which the wild animals are driven. Hunting spears are not different from war spears, although spears certainly differ in form in the various regions. In Nakanai, among the Sulka and the neighbouring tribes, the spear is made from a specific palm wood and is 3 to 4 metres long as a rule; the sharp end is very often armed with a cassowary claw, which remains fixed when the spear is withdrawn from the wound, giving rise to severe inflammation and pus discharge. A 4 to 5 metre lance is familiar on Nakanai although it is used only in rare cases as a weapon, and is much more a ceremonial spear which on special occasions is carried as a distinction by those who are entitled to it. The front end is armed with a cassowary claw and a cassowary leg bone is fastened on the rear end. About 25 centimetres above the bone the spear is wrapped in a layer of thin palm leaves, which serves as the base for a long band of Nassa shells joined flush edge to edge (fig. 30), in which the spear is tightly wrapped over a length of 1 to 1.5 metres. Both the upper and the lower ends of the wrapping are surrounded with a cuff-like plaiting of bast fibres, besides which larger and smaller tassels of white cockatoo feathers are inserted into the wrapping. Ordinary war spears never have this decoration; they are completely smooth from one end to the other.97

98On the French Islands and on Willaumez, as well as west and east from there, we find spears with the front end adorned with two rows of barbs. These barbs consist of either strongly bent thorns of a certain species of plant, or more often of the bristly spikes with which various fish species are armed. These thorns are 5 to 15 millimetres long, very pointed and sharp, and are set in two opposing rows from 2.5 to 6 centimetres apart. The part of the spear armed in such a way is 75 centimetres to 1 metre long. Attachment of the thorns is highly characteristic. Each barb has a broad basal area that is used for attachment in an ingenious manner. First of all the end of the spear is tightly wrapped in a fibrous cord about 1 millimetre thick, and the barbs, in opposing pairs, are fastened into the binding by laying on strips of rattan about 5 millimetres wide. The strips, which cover the broad base of the barbs, secure these by being wrapped round the body of the spear. The entire reinforced part of the spear is then rubbed with Parinarium resin to give even greater security to the barbs, which become so closely bound to the shaft that they seem to be growing from it. A wide binding of red fibres and plaited cords completes it. At regular intervals between the barbs small tufts of red-dyed fibres and coir seeds are fastened, also tufts of coloured bird feathers. Another form of spear has a smooth tip with or without cassowary claw, and a cassowary bone on the rear end. About 20 centimetres below the bone the spear is wrapped in fibrous material up to a length of 30 to 35 centimetres. This binding consists of red fibrous material at both ends, about 8 to 10 centimetres long; in the middle there is plaiting of black, red and yellow fibre strips about 2 millimetres wide.

With good and careful manufacture of the plaiting, the individual, coloured woven strips are arranged in such a way that yellow, red and black rings and zigzags alternate with one another. The plaiting often recalls similar plaiting round spears on Bougainville, or clubs from the south-eastern Solomon Islands. Although preparation of the various war spears is universally familiar, material is not available everywhere. In the French Islands cassowary claws and bones are obtained from New Britain opposite via the trade route. As a rule cassowary bones are wrapped in bundles of ten, and often great numbers of such bundles are found stored in the huts on Mérite and Deslacs.

Towards the western end of New Britain these barbed spears are less common and the war spear as a rule is completely smooth and round with a 99long tip; the butt end is especially thinned, and the thickest part of the spear is always its mid-section. At Cape Gloucester years ago I saw, quite sporadically, spears that were wrapped with possum skin somewhat below the point. Since such spears are common in Kaiser Wilhelmsland, but apparently seem to occur only occasionally on the western end of New Britain, it may be assumed that they arrived there through trading.

Among the distance weapons belongs the universally used slingshot. This, as on the Gazelle Peninsula, is produced from a bowl-like cushion of pandanus leaf with two long cords. In the French Islands and on the north coast of New Britain the cushion is produced from the fibrous plaiting which covers the base of the coconut leaves, and the two cords are carefully plaited from fine fibres. The cord, which is held in the hand when hurling the stone, is provided with a disc of turtle shell the size of a 2 Mark piece [about 27 mm diameter], to prevent the cord held between the middle and index fingers from slipping out of the hand. The second cord, which is released when firing, is held between the thumb and bent index finger; it is smooth on the upper end so that it can be released easily.

Slingshot stones are available in great numbers of suitable size and shape from riverbeds everywhere. In the French Islands, supplies are obtained from the main island of New Britain opposite, where small wide-meshed net pouches plaited from lianas, filled with the ammunition, can be seen in the markets.

Clubs are found particularly among the Sulka and their neighbours, and are of a characteristic shape and highest quality manufacture. Both figures depict the shapes of the principal clubs of these areas. All of these clubs have a larger or smaller cone-shaped knob on the grip end.

Club 1 in figure 32 is found often on the Nakanai coast, although it has without doubt been traded from the hill tribes. Among the Sulka this club is fairly widespread. The whole club is round and the striking end in cross-section is narrowly lancet-shaped, and reasonably tapering. Clubs 2, 3 and 8 are likewise fairly common among the Sulka and their neighbouring tribes; 2 strongly calls to mind the club named virki by the Baining, which is known also as tawa or talum on the north-east Gazelle Peninsula, where the head of the club does not, however, taper as in the Sulka version.

Numbers 3 and 8 are, to a certain extent, modifications of number 2; however, number 8 might have arisen from an attempt to copy a club with a stone head. Clubs 4, 5, 6 and 7 are from the same region, but they are mainly a product of the inland tribe, the Tumuip, or, as they are called by the Nakanai people, the Paleawe, which is why these clubs are found now and then in Nakanai, where 100they have arrived as battle trophies. They are carved into a pineapple shape at the striking end, with three to eight rows of knobs, arranged in such a way that one row of knobs is always situated in the intervals of the adjacent rows. Most of these clubs are distinguished by painstaking workmanship.

Figure 33 depicts a series of clubs from the region between Jacquinot Bay and Montague Bay that has only become familiar to us in recent times and that deviate markedly from other clubs in the protectorate, especially in form. Clubs 1 and 2 are of the same basic form; 2, however, deviates substantially from 1 in that the blade is distinguished by surface relief and by painting in various colours. The broad, blade-like striking end is thick and heavy, the lower side having a sharper edge. The carved decoration, like an eye on the blade of club 2, is found again on clubs 3 and 4, which are otherwise devoid of any further ornamentation. From our understanding they are a quite unwieldy weapon. Club 3 can be wielded with one hand, while 4, because of its weight, requires both hands.

The shape of 3 rather brings to mind the shape of a boomerang of the Australians, but is always used as a hand-held weapon.7 Clubs 5 and 6 appear to be a wooden imitation of a long-lost stone instrument. The handle is clearly differentiated from the blade, the latter of course being prepared together with the handle out of a single piece of wood. The instrument is strongly reminiscent of the ceremonial stone axe from the Normanby Islands (British New Guinea), which, however, has a finely polished stone blade. Another similarity is that the reproduced blade, as evidenced particularly by number 6, is of lesser thickness, exactly like the stone blades of the Normanby axe. According to the comments of the natives, the Montague Bay axe is, however, a war weapon and not, as in the Normanby Islands, a state or ceremonial axe.

Further along western New Britain, clubs apparently lose importance; what has come into my view from these regions consist of fairly rough batten-shaped clubs with a simple tapering or a triangular-ending haft, a modification of the cone-shaped pommels of the neighbouring tribes.

Shields serve as defence against weapons of all kinds, throughout western New Britain. These are completely unknown on the Gazelle Peninsula: sufficient evidence that the peninsular tribes have never come into close contact with the western tribes nor even descend from them. As far as we know, three different types of shield are in use on western New Britain. The form in figure 35, which depicts a Sulka shield from the front as well as the reverse side, is very characteristic of this district. The decoration is of course varied but always revolves around the main motifs. The shape is always the same, an extended oval, the long diameter of which is about three times as great as the short one. The shields are made from a light white wood; the front surface is slightly curved and the edges hemmed with strips of rattan. At the midpoint of both

101diameters a projecting boss, matches a depression on the reverse side which contains the hand-hold running in the direction of the long axis. Above the boss on the outer surface run a number of rattan strips which cross at the highest point of the boss.

Both front and reverse sides of the Sulka shield are decorated with carved ornaments and these are accentuated by various types of painting. Again we find, as with the Baining ornaments, that the meanings which we Europeans give to these, are basically false. Both figures on the outer side to the right and the left of the central boss might well both signify human figures; the circular, or more accurately almost round designs on both the front and the reverse sides could represent eyes, and correspondingly from the swirls around them one might construct a human figure. It is unfortunate that the Sulka, who carve and paint these figures want to have absolutely nothing to do with such an interpretation, to the extent of laughing in one’s face when such a meaning is implied. Anyway I am not in a position to give an explanation of the designs, since obtaining one was impossible; however, there is no doubt that the designs have a significance, but here, as in so many cases, we must have patience until closer acquaintance with the tribe provides us with information.

In the area both east and west of Montague Bay, along the entire Nakanai coast from Duportail Island to the Willaumez Peninsula and westwards across it, and on the French Islands as well, we find another form of shield which, although varying in individual details has the same basic shape and the same organisation of decoration. This is an indication that a relationship exists between the inhabitants of the north coast and those of the south coast, which manifests itself in other ways as well.

The basic shape of this shield is a long rectangle with severely rounded corners, the length being about five times the breadth. The borders are mostly edged, but they are often decorated with a string of white down feathers. In the centre there is usually a boss which on the reverse side contains the depression for the hand grip; this is densely plaited over cross-wise with red-dyed rattan strips; similarly both ends of the shield are decorated with strips of rattan laid crosswise over one another, or more accurately reinforced, to prevent splintering of the light wood. Here too, both reverse and front sides are decorated, and on the front surface the design also gives the impression of a face. It has not been possible for me to unravel the decoration of the reverse side (fig. 36).

These shields differ in decoration according to district. The shields of Montague Bay on the southern side are almost exactly the same as those of the Nakanai region on the northern side. The latter, however, are much more primitive and rougher in the whole presentation and decoration; painting is 102often only hinted at, likewise the carved pattern. Frequently the edging with strips of rattan is missing as well, and the crosswise binding of the shield. However, on Willaumez and the French Islands quite significant deviations occur, for there especially the shield is produced with far greater care. The shape is more slender and narrow than those of the Nakanai and Montague Bay tribes, and the length is about seven and a half times greater than the breadth. The decoration of the front side is the same as those of their neighbours and here too we can discern a face both on the upper and the lower surfaces of the front side. The boss of the front side is carved in the shape of a bird and painted, and the binding of the whole shield with wide, red-dyed bands of fibre is far more carefully done.

The entire rim of the shield is most neatly and carefully hemmed with a thick rattan plait, from which tassels of fibre or of bird feathers dangle at brief intervals. Decoration of the reverse side is just as carefully performed; the outlines of the design are easily carved into the soft wood, and painted in white, black and red. According to the natives these figures, always referring to two forms in particular, represent certain sea creatures (fig. 37).

The shields described above, in spite of all the differences, have many features in common, and can be regarded unquestionably as variations of one and the same basic form. Further to the west, around South Cape and beyond, there appears a totally different form. Here the shields consist of three convex battens, arranged in such a way that two more narrow battens lie alongside the broader central batten, bound together by strips of rattan and other fibrous bands (fig. 38). The breadth of the central batten is as great as the breadth of both lateral battens. By binding together, three roughly square panels are formed, with a right-angled panel at each end; the combined squares are adorned with smoothly inlaid decorations which are enhanced by painting. Decorations of the reverse side are more rarely carved, but in most cases are only painted on. I have not been able to obtain anything reliable on the significance of the individual decorations.

All of these shields are produced from a very light type of wood, and are held with the left hand in battle, to cover the body. Most specimens have been pierced by spears, and the natives have a great dexterity in intercepting spears. At Montague Bay I was able to observe how, during an attack, the shield was held in the left hand, with the arm slightly bent in front of the body, to catch the weapons of the opposing party; at the same time it was regarded as dexterous to present always the narrow side of the body to the enemy, and to use the shields fully in this position as much as possible.

Right at the western end of New Britain still other forms appear; however, these never came into my purview. At any event the shield depicted in figure 38 is very extensively used at the western end of New Britain.

The stone axe is never used as a true battle weapon; its prime importance is as a hand tool. Both the shape of the stone axe and the material for the blade are not always the same in the various districts. We find a very characteristic axe on the French Islands, the Willaumez Peninsula and on the opposite south coast of New Britain, around South Cape. The blade is not fastened into a wooden haft or a wooden sheath but, like several stone axes from the northern Solomon Islands, wound round with a piece of rattan. The blades (fig. 39) are of various sizes, produced from a hard, black type of stone, and carefully smoothed and polished over almost the entire upper surface. To retain the actual blade in position, small ledges are 103ground on both sides, about a third of the way from the edge; below these ledges the rattan cane forming the handle is bent round the blade and then tied together with thin strips of rattan and tightly plaited over. This plaiting extends about 8 to 10 centimetres down the haft from the blade. I have seen this type of axe used as a hand tool in the production of house posts. However, it is also used as a sago mallet for loosening the inner pith of the sago palm, and I have in my possession a specimen captured in Stettiner Bay on the eastern side of the Willaumez Peninsula, when the natives of this area were driven back during an attempt to raid the boat of a European. Thus, from time to time it does have use as a weapon.

West of the Willaumez Peninsula one frequently finds axes in use with blades produced from Tridacna shell. They have the shape of a hollow chisel and stick into a conical sheath consisting of two hollowed out halves. This sheath is placed at the rear end of the blade and then firmly tied on with strips of rattan. The hand grip consists of a kneeshaped wooden handle, the short end of which is pointed and stuck into the upper narrow opening of the wooden sheath.

The attachment of the stone axes from Nakanai is similar, although in this region the blade is not of Tridacna shell, but prepared from stone similar to lava. The shape is also not that of a hollow chisel, but a common axe with a straight, rounded-off cutting edge. The wooden sheath of the Nakanai axe is far thinner and more artistically worked, also proportionally longer than the sheaths east of Willaumez. For tying they use a thin cord twisted from strong fibres, with which the whole sheath is tightly strapped round from bottom to top.

Everywhere on the great western part of New Britain obsidian slivers play a major role as a cutting implement. The material is available everywhere, and slivers with hair-sharp cutting edges can easily be detached. All cutting work that we find in this area has been done with such obsidian slivers, and in places where the canoe ends are adorned with decoration in relief, or where wooden bowls are decorated with deep carving, these slivers lie around in great numbers. When such a knife becomes useless, it is thrown away without any attempt to resharpen the cutting edge, and a new sliver is broken off.

Mother-of-pearl shell is likewise used everywhere as a cutting implement, especially the black-rimmed mussel pearl not uncommon on the beaches.

The coastal tribes, more especially the islanders of the offshore islets, are seafarers, but to varying degrees. For some, sea voyages consist only of small trips along the beach from one friendly village to another, or fishing trips to uninhabited islands in the neighbourhood. Others, however, are seafarers in the true sense of the word, and do not fear making relatively long voyages across the open sea in their canoes. Naturally this has an influence on the construction and the outfitting of the canoes; the more extensive the voyages to be made in them, and the greater demands to be made on their seaworthiness, the better made they are.

In Nakanai, on South Cape and at many places on the western tip, the canoes are long single trees, prepared without artistry from a hollowed-out tree trunk, equipped with booms and a float on one side for better stability. Both ends are occasionally 104decorated with surface reliefs that are enhanced by painting; in most cases, however, no decoration is used. In Nakanai, according to usual custom, the outrigger is removed and the body of the canoe is pushed under the roof of the hut as protection against sun and weather. The Sulka take significantly greater care in production; their canoes are wider and more spacious, furnished with small superstructures at both ends, and both gunwales are raised by a long plank. Both prows and the gunwale planks are decorated by painting, and these figures frequently recall in a quite lively way, the modern European decoration which we designate by the words Art Nouveau, since generally all painting from this region has an extraordinarily characteristic pattern. Its uniqueness is increased still further in that, besides the common red, white and black tones, various green and yellow pigments are also used. On the French Islands and further towards the western end of the island of New Britain we find even better made canoes, the seaworthiness of which is significantly greater, and which are not powered exclusively by paddles but by sails as well; indeed these sails are of the form used, for example, on the Tami Islands.

Canoe size varies a lot; on the north coast and on the south coast I was able to observe long canoes that often carried twenty people. The canoes never carry such a load at sea; seldom are they seen on the open sea with more than six people aboard, 105although close inshore in calm water they frequently carry up to twenty natives. On the Arawa Islands and further west of there one often comes across the great two-masted sailing canoe which is so common in New Guinea. The natives say that they purchase these canoes in the west, from other natives. Eastwards beyond Cape Merkus I have not seen them.

I wish to mention here that natives are driven quite frequently from south-eastern New Guinea onto the south coast of New Britain particularly. Thus about fifteen years ago a number of natives were driven from the D’Entrecasteaux Archipelago onto South Cape, and at Cape Gloucester I met people from the Trobriand Islands who had been settled there for so long that they spoke the local native language and felt so contented that they declined transport home. According to comments 106by the natives on Arawa (Liebliche Inseln) different pale-skinned natives were driven there, but they had been slain because they resisted. However, today there are still two older women on the island who, by their paler skin and their facial features, indicate that they originated from the south-eastern New Guinea islands. This kind of immigration also explains why at Cape Roebuck, for example, objects were offered to me that had come without doubt from the Woodlark Islands. How far these shipwrecks really extend is demonstrated by the case that, years ago on Roissy Island, a shield from the Trobriands was offered to me, which although very old, still bore traces of the characteristic painting found nowhere else.

In pages 143 to 166 of his excellent book, Unter den Papuas, Dr Hagen has given us a comparison of the various theories on the origin of the crinkly haired races, and also developed his own views, which deviate somewhat from the others. Finally, however, having considered all such apparently acceptable answers to the question: Where do these people come from; to which ‘race’ do they belong? we still come back to Dr Hagen’s answer: ‘I don’t know, nobody knows, not even the Papuans themselves!’ I have already emphasised in various ways that the population is extraordinarily mixed throughout the entire region; nowhere have we succeeded in authenticating a pure race. Certain external features, especially the hair, have been put forward, quite justifiably, as distinguishing features. But between these two main groups, the crinkly haired and the smooth-haired, there are so extraordinarily many blends that when other characteristic features are placed alongside, we are often not in a position to say whether the peculiarities of one or the other group predominate.

With regard to the Bismarck Archipelago type, Dr Hagen holds the view that it is an independent form belonging to the Austral-Papuan region, which has developed here and is closely and intimately related to the Australian type. Both belong together and form a secondary principal variation of humankind. The author points out, with justification, the great similarity, for example, between the New Britain people and the Queenslanders, and this similarity has also struck observers like Dr Finsch.

From travellers’ reports and other accounts, we now know that in Tasmania up until not long ago there was a tribe which showed even greater similarity with the then-living natives of New Britain. Above all, the Tasmanians had the crinkly hair of the archipelago inhabitants, whereas the present Australians as a rule have smooth, curly hair. If we now look at the accompanying map, which was taken from the work, Island Life, by Alfred Wallace, I believe that there is no difficulty in explaining the similarity of Tasmanians and the inhabitants of the archipelago. The map shows the probable shape of Australia at the beginning of the Tertiary Period. At that time that part of the world consisted of two large main sections, western and eastern Australia, separated by a broad arm of the sea. The northern-most tip of Australia was formed by the present-day Cape York. It is presumed that eastern Australia at that time was inhabited by a crinkly haired tribe which, if not completely identical, was still closely related to the inhabitants of New Guinea and the inhabitants of the Bismarck Archipelago. The inhabitants of western Australia belonged to a different tribe, which was probably very close to the Arafurans. At a later period, when, as a result of uplift, the sea separating both main islands gradually disappeared and a solid bridge connected the two islands, a migration of the tribes took place. In particular it was the smooth-haired western Australians who pushed eastwards along the new path, annihilated the crinkly haired eastern Australians and interbred with the survivors. In the south, the Tasmanians remained undisturbed by this immigration because, at a later period, Bass Strait separated their homeland from the rest of eastern Australia and set up an insurmountable obstacle 107against intruders into the south, just as the sea also forced a halt to their migrations in the north.

Between Cape York and the Bismarck Archipelago is inserted the high eastern end of New Guinea, whose population, as we knew up until a few years ago, had not much in common with the inhabitants of the Gazelle Peninsula or of southern New Ireland. However, since the Governor of British New Guinea, Sir William MacGregor, so highly renowned for exploration, traversed this part of the island in 1896, we know that in the ranges there dwells a tribe that is strikingly different from the coastal inhabitants and has a far greater similarity to the people of the north-eastern Gazelle Peninsula. A member of the expedition, on first seeing natives from the area around my dwelling several years later, was astonished at the great resemblance of the New Britain people to the natives he had encountered years ago during the ascent of Mount Scratchley.

When in an earlier section I represented the population of the island of New Britain (with the exception of the Gazelle Peninsula tribes), as being closely related to the tribes of New Guinea, I was referring only to the shoreline population of both islands. Between South Cape and Cape Roebuck isolated tribes dwell in the mountains, differing remarkably from the shore-dwellers. I have become acquainted with only few representatives of the former, on the occasion of a journey along the coast.

They had astonished me by their great facial similarity to the Gazelle Peninsula people, and upon questioning it was explained to me that they were prisoners of war, and therefore slaves, from the mountains.

We are thus in a position to reconstruct the 109entire sequence of a population which exhibits all the features of a closely connected and related tribe, from Van Diemen’s Land to New Ireland.

Whether this tribe formed the original population, or whether another existed before it, is difficult to determine, as indeed nowhere else is there found such an interbreeding of different races as on the islands of the Pacific Ocean. It seems certain that all these islands were inhabited in primeval times by a dark-skinned race; whether this race stood close to the Negritos, the Arafurans or the Australians is hard to determine, the more so since all three groups, and others, apparently interbred frequently, partially through gradual immigration into new areas, made possible by bridging of the sea gap as a result of powerful upthrusts. Similarly, major sinkings would have broken up land complexes and divided the population onto numerous islands and island groups.

That the geological situation has in many ways been the decisive factor in the distribution of population over the Pacific Ocean, we must accept as certain. As a significant uplift is verifiable in the west, so too in central Polynesia or to the east an equally strong sinking is demonstrable, as has been shown, for example, by the drilling into Funafuti atoll, carried out in 1896 by Professor Sollas under commission from the Royal Society, London.